#trying to figure that out and its very hard because i love the horror of fae soap too much | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jeanbie · 5 months

Text

PRESCOTT ★ masterlist.

pairing: connie x reader

warnings: explicit sexual content, awkwardness/second-hand-embarrassment, porn with plot, alcohol, sex under the influence, semi-public sex, quickies, blowjobs, doggy | wc: 13k

note: the yapper allegations are true - example a: this fic. 10k of connie and mama, all because you guys overwhelmed me with love for ghostface!! it's a gift for you guys ✩࿐ connie is sooooo gekko coded in this fic btw!!

★ sequel to ghostface

⏤ After Halloween, you've been trying your hardest to avoid being near Connie Springer, but a little bit of alcohol on Porco's birthday is all it takes for you to find yourself back in his arms.

You can think of a thousand different reasons to avoid going to Porco’s birthday party, but all of them turn to ash in your mouth the second Ymir levels you with her dirtiest glare imaginable.

“Just how many birthdays are there going to be in November?” you ask, punching in the number of the last bottle of Dr Pepper into the vending machine. It threatens to hold the bottle hostage for a moment until you shake the machine by its sides, all whilst desperately trying to avoid looking at Ymir.

You’ve never been a very good liar, nor a great actress, which is exactly why you’re not at all surprised that she’s managed to notice your strangeness since Armin’s birthday. At one point, you thought you were doing a marvellous job at containing the humiliation inside of you, but Ymir’s analytical breakdown of every irregularity in your behaviour made you aware of just how obvious you’ve been making it. It’s a wonder she hasn’t already figured out the exact reason for your distance, created suspiciously after leaving Armin’s flat.

But, it’s not like you can just outrightly say that you got fucked by one of her friends in Eren’s cupboard on Halloween. The timing wasn’t right. And, on top of that, there was nothing remotely wrong with that fact to justify your withdrawal from society because of it — that had happened purely because of how hot Connie actually was underneath that Ghostface mask.

And now, every memory of that moment has been altered so that his face appears bowed over your spread legs instead of that sloping plastic mouth of wide horror. And it’s dreadfully humiliating.

“Porco’s is the last one,” Ymir says, leaning her weight on the other vending machine full with snacks. The library has an entire wing that permits food and drink, but with midterms looming around the corner, you’re not about to waste any more time drinking down here when you could be working, and no more time spent on conjuring up the image of a man you’ve met — and fucked — once.

“I barely know Porco,” you try. It’s true. While you’ve been running with Ymir and Reiner for a long time, it’s only been a few months since you met their extended group consisting of Porco, Pieck, Yelena and a few other faces you only see at house parties or in between classes. “Did I even get invited, or is this one out of pity, too?”

Ymir rolls her eyes. “More out of association, really. Plus, he thinks you’re hot, so that helped.”

“I’m charmed,” you mutter, taking a swig of the Dr Pepper before she, too, decides to rattle her jacket pocket for some loose change. “I’m just your hot friend.”

“Damn straight,” Ymir laughs, sliding her coins into the machine, eyes torn between two drinks. A line is forming quickly behind the pair of you, which makes Ymir slow down on purpose as she makes her choice. With her tongue between her teeth, she thinks long and hard before saying, “Seems like you made quite the impression at Armin’s birthday.”

You try very hard to ignore the regretful twist in your belly. “What? With who?”

Ymir looks at you from the side, crouching after a beady glare to get her drink. “Who are you expecting?”

“Nobody. I’m just curious.”

“Yeah, right. You’ve been acting weird lately,” she accuses, finally giving way to the growing line of students. Ymir looks up in acknowledgement as Reiner rounds one of the glass doorways, immediately heading straight to the instant coffee machine with a grumble. “Don’t think we haven’t noticed. We have.”

“Who’s we?” you ask, slinking in her shadow as she sets off towards Reiner. There must be some sort of gravitational pull between the pair of them — it’s probably what makes them so enjoyable to be around, the reason you choose to call them your closest friends.

Ymir claps Reiner on the back. “We is us. We’ve noticed.”

“Noticed what, sorry?” Reiner asks distractedly, looking up once his little cup is under the tap, the machine screaming to life.

“How weird she’s been since Halloween.”

“Oh. Yeah, you have been acting sus,” Reiner comments, in a way that makes you feel like he’s simply going along with whatever Ymir is saying to spite you. It wouldn’t be the first time, either. He had played his part in convincing you to go to Eren’s Halloween party, and you conveniently remember that party being the main factor behind your week-long self-imposed exile.

“How?” you snort, rather defensively.

“Just weird,” Ymir explains. “Like how you totally blanked us when we called you over the other day outside of Tom’s.”

You vaguely recall seeing Ymir and Reiner standing with a bunch of people outside the corner shop a few days ago. Behind Reiner’s wide body had stood Connie Springer, dazzling in his baggy blue jeans, and it had been enough for you to simply wave and be on your way.

“Being busy doesn’t qualify as being weird, guys.”

Reiner stirs his coffee and shrugs. In hindsight, you know that there are probably better ways to get over the embarrassment you feel from Halloween. It wasn’t even as if you regretted what happened — you didn’t. Being bent over a suitcase in Eren’s utility cupboard had been a thrill, a real pleasure. Connie had been concealed beneath a Scream movie mask and you were blissfully unaware of him, and you like to think that is the only reason why you acted so out of character.

Cumming with your legs in the air, desperately fiddling with your clit and greedily trying to catch every last drop of Ghostface’s cum? That was so unlike you! You’ve never been that horny, that turned on, that animalistic and needy. And seeing Connie a few days later, looking the way that he did, becoming a familiar face — you can’t explain the feeling very well, but mortified comes close.

How are you supposed to look him in the eye without replaying what you did together over and over again? How are you supposed to face him and try and be normal, when you were anything but when he had his cock up your cunt?

“Still being weird, by the way.”

Ymir’s voice doesn’t register until she grabs the back of your neck gently and squeezes, and it’s as if you’ve been rebooted to life. The library canteen manifests into view once more, and you look over at Ymir and Reiner sheepishly, trying to think of something to say that can justify your behaviour.

But nothing can. Yes — you’re being weird.

Unfortunately, you think your strange behaviour will only continue once Ymir looks over your head and smiles, and a wave of dread washes over you.

Please be someone I like. Please be anyone but the one person I do not want to see—

“No fucking way,” Ymir laughs joyfully. “Congrats on finding the library, Pock.”

A deep laugh sounds from behind you, and you brave a glance over your shoulder in hopes that it might just be Porco standing there. But as soon as you turn and spot three people standing there, one being the very last person you wanted to see, you feel your body grow hot and your mind whirl.

Great. Fucking great.

Porco glances between you and Ymir for a second, a smirk still on his face, and you’re almost overcome with relief when Reiner pulls you back to stand near his hip slightly, an arm draped over your shoulders.

“First time for everything,” Porco finally replies. By a small mercy, he has devoted his attention to Ymir, the little blonde girl behind his elbow falling into place near Ymir’s armpit. Not that you’re looking at any of them — your eyes are stupidly glued to the guy standing just in front of Reiner.

The guy who had you undone in a fucking utility cupboard.

Unlike at the party, your options are limited on what to look at instead of Connie, which is precisely why you enslave yourself to taking him all in, every last detail of his face, his body, while his eyes are drawn to Ymir as she talks.

Just like how he was on Armin’s birthday, every feature on Connie’s face is practically glowing with charm. It is a miracle that he ended up being more attractive now than he was with the mask on — you hadn’t put too much thought into conjuring up a false image under the mask that night, but even if you had, you wouldn’t have even considered pulling together someone who looked like that.

As you’re ogling his face and body, your heart lurches unexpectedly when Connie glances back over to where you and Reiner are standing, a smile pulling up on his lips. A small set of dimples appear in his cheeks as he does so, the sharp shape of his eyebrows rising as he studies you in particular.

Of course he recognises you. After all, Connie was the only one wearing a mask that night, physically speaking. You pray that Reiner isn’t paying close enough attention to the wandering eyes of his friend as Connie takes a good, long look and you half-heartedly fidget into his side.

“Just you guys?”

Even though your eyes have zeroed in on Connie’s mouth, you blink and process the question with a delay. Thankfully, it seems like Reiner’s talking to Connie instead of you, which you’re grateful for. You have nothing to say to Connie, anyway.

Connie’s green eyes flicker up from his tight assessment of you to Reiner’s face — another act of mercy.

He nods his head backwards, gesturing towards the circular stairs that spin up to the third floor, “Some of us are on the third floor. Marco, Jean…you know. I’m going in about an hour, I’ve gotta go to work.”

Whatever else he says you completely zone out from, though not on purpose. Connie looks both the same and completely different to how he did on Armin’s birthday; his buzzed hair is now a blonde wash, his skin looking more tanned from it.

Now that you’re up close, you count at least three moles on his face in a cluster of spaces, under his eye and across his cheeks. He says something, the tick of his jaw making you glance down ever so slightly to his neck before lifting back to his face — where in a shock, you discover his eyes are back on you.

For how long have you been gawking at him? And how long has he been looking back?

“Did you get that from here?”

You blink. Then, you realise he’s talking to you.

Surprised, you jut your head forwards slightly and look at him with wide eyes. “Sorry?”

Remarkably, Connie laughs, as though he finds your bemusement amusing. He points at the bottle of Dr Pepper in your hand, smile widening into a grin. “That,” he says.

“What?” For a second, you’re mostly confused. Out of everything you could have expected Connie to say to you after Halloween, you had never guessed it would be about the drink in your hand.

Reiner’s arm loosens around your shoulders as he turns to look at you, probably because your silence is stretching on a little too long to be normal. Unbeknownst to Reiner, you know that judging by Connie’s own lapsed silence, he’s perfectly content with waiting until you answer — just to hear you answer, if you even do.

You carefully look back at Connie, as if trying to gauge his sincerity, and for a moment, you catch a glimpse of something in his eyes, a taunting lift of his eyebrows.

He likes your silence. He’s relishing in it.

“Yeah,” you decide to say finally, pointing over your shoulder to the vending machines. “There.”

Connie nods. He could have quite easily figured it out himself, and once he looks away, towards Ymir rather than the vending machines, you realise belatedly that he isn’t actually interested. He was just trying to start a conversation. And you blew it.

“I think I had the last one, though,” you add, which makes Connie break away from Ymir’s story she’s sharing with Porco and the blonde girl with a little bit too much enthusiasm to be faked. Reiner’s entire arm falls from your shoulders and he assesses the gap between you and Connie. When did it get smaller?

Connie steps closer, only once, craning his head around your shoulder to the machines.

“For real?” he laughs, inspecting the selection of drinks from afar. Then, Connie hums, “what else is there?”

Is he seriously asking you about the drinks in the vending machine right now?

Your mouth falls open in surprise — this is not at all how you expected this to go down. You’d been toying between Connie being a total douche and making lewd references to the cupboard, or perhaps being so disinterested in your existence that all he said was hello and nothing more. The casual topic is almost disturbing, so out of the character profile of his that you drew up in the days spent avoiding him.

“Um…I’m not sure,” you reply honestly. The only thing on your mind is him, and his black cloak in the dark cupboard. His voice, his laugh, his hands on your body.

Beside you, Reiner clears his throat and he shoots both you and Connie an insincere smile, before making a speedy exit towards Porco while Ymir is busy entertaining the other girl. You watch with dismay as he moves away.

How could he just leave you here like this? Of course, he doesn’t know that you’re in an internal battle against your feelings for Connie, but still, solidarity! You can’t believe his lack of loyalty.

“I’ll have a look,” is what Connie replies with, and you blink furiously at him as he shortens the distance between you and steps past you. His hand slips very slightly past your leg, a finger delicately brushing past your thigh, and if it weren’t for your hyper-fixation on his every gesture and movement, you might have missed it entirely.

All you can do is watch over your shoulder as he walks towards the vending machines, rather slowly at that, and stands in front of it to browse the selection.

You’re left standing there, away from the throng of friends discussing Porco’s party, even further from the guy who rearranged your guts on Halloween and has been a plague in your thoughts. And for a few seconds, you’re torn on where to go next.

Stand with your friends and avoid talking to Connie? Stay in your place? Leave and go back to your things?

You do none of those things. There is no reasonable explanation for why your body decides to turn and head in Connie’s direction, no explanation you think is good enough. But, you move regardless, until your feet stagger in Connie’s shadow and he glances to the side, surprising himself when he sees that you’ve followed him.

You look between him and the machine, careful not to spend too long caught in the surprised yet pleased look in his eyes.

“Told you,” you say weakly, looking back at the machine.

“Yup, I can see that,” Connie replies, with a slight laugh that feels oddly reminiscent of the way he chuckled over your bent body in the cupboard. His eyes drop to your mouth for a brief second before clamping on your eyes once more, “You want something?”

It takes a beat for you to realise he’s asking in relation to the vending machine. “Oh, no. I’m fine.”

“Oh, okay,” he replies, and maybe you’re overthinking it, but he sounds almost confused. Maybe he is. Maybe he’s confused as to why you’ve followed him over here to do nothing once you’re by his side. He wouldn’t be the only one confused by that; you’re still trying to make sense of it yourself.

Once his eyes are back on the vending machine, you let out an internal groan and focus on the outline of his jaw, desperately thinking of something to say before he punches in the numbers for a bottle of Fanta and says, “you good?”

There’s a pause. What can you say, now that the chance to say anything is here?

You glance back towards the group near the coffee machine and bite the inside of your lip. They’re just a few steps away, engrossed in a conversation you might want to be a part of. Instead, you look back at Connie and nod dumbly, “Yeah. I’m okay.”

“Okay,” he nods, crouching to get his bottle.

Why the hell is this so awkward? Last week, this man had been up your snatch, trying to shove his dick up your ass. Why is seeing him after the fact so fucking uncomfortable?

“Did I do something?” You don’t know what you expected Connie to say after he got his drink, but it definitely wasn’t that.

“What? No?”

His brows pinch together slightly. “Just thought maybe you got uncomfortable or something.”

“…Why?” you ask slowly.

“You’ve avoided coming near me every time I’ve seen you since Armin’s birthday,” he starts. Has Connie suddenly appearing everywhere after Halloween been less of a coincidence than you originally thought, and instead more of a deliberate choice?

You blink, following along with his words, “and you blocked me on Instagram, so I just—” And how the fuck does he know about that?

So, he’s right; you did block him after Armin’s party, but only because you viewed his story on accident after a stalking session once you got home. Honestly, you never thought he’d notice, never need to notice. The hot flush that swarms your body is uncontrollable.

“I…” you start, but the words die like ash in your mouth.

Connie faces you, looking thoughtful. “It’s cool if you got cold feet after Halloween. Sorry if you had a bad time.”

“Wha—wait, I never said I had a bad time,” you rush to say, probably sounding a bit too eager, but it’s too late to reign it back in. You mutter to the floor, “the opposite, actually.”

“So, you did like it.”

“Wasn’t that kind of obvious?” you reply, laughing slightly. “I just…I don’t know. I didn’t expect to see you after Halloween. I just freaked out, it’s not personal.”

“Blocking me felt personal.”

“I panicked! I didn’t want you to think I was weird for finding your Instagram and then looking at your stories and posts and—” You stop. In order for Connie to find out that you blocked him, it would require him doing some online stalking of his own, and once the penny drops, your head jerks back in alarm. “I…I’m sorry?”

At that, Connie sniggers, shaking his head and taking a step back when someone manifests out of thin air behind you in demand of the vending machine. He reaches out for your arm and gently guides you away with him.

Frantically, you look back at the group; Ymir is neck deep in her story, the blonde in her arms enraptured by whatever it is she’s saying. Reiner and Porco are the only ones taking interest in you and Connie, but you look away before their curious glances can garner any attention.

“You don’t have to say sorry,” Connie says, his hand dropping after a beat of holding your arm. “We’re good, mama.”

Mama — just the word makes you feel weightless.

“Mm,” is all you can say in reply.

But Connie seems unperturbed by your lack of response. “You going to Pock’s party this weekend?”

Right — the very thing you had been discussing before your entire afternoon tilted on its axis. Porco’s upcoming birthday was becoming a hot topic in conversation, but you aren’t even sure if you’re going or not. An invite through somebody else doesn’t feel like much of an invite to you, despite that being the case for the last two parties you’ve been in attendance of.

“Uh… Maybe,” you tell him. “I actually don’t know Porco that well.”

“Huh.” Connie’s brows raise, his mouth in a falling slope, “Really?” He looks to the side in Porco’s direction, but you don’t join him. You’re too busy analysing the crestfallen look on his face, wondering what on earth put it there. “I thought he liked you.”

“That’s what Ymir told me.”

He looks back at you immediately, “Do you like him?”

“I don’t even know him.” But, then again, you didn’t know Connie at one point, and it hadn’t been enough to deter you from taking his hand and letting him lead you into Eren’s cupboard with your skirt up over your arse. Based on the flat look on Connie’s face, you assume he’s probably thinking the same thing.

“He’s not really my type,” you add, simply for no reason at all. But Connie’s face tugs up because of it.

He laughs shortly, “That’s good, then.”

Is it? You want to ask why, but Connie’s already looking back at the group and raising his brows in acknowledgement. All of them are looking over at the pair of you almost expectantly, and he addresses you with a simple smile and says, “Maybe I’ll see you at the party, then.”

Your heart is speeding up in your chest. Even though this entire conversation has been drier than bones, something inside of you wants him to stay.

“You’re going?” you ask him, walking slowly by his side as you head back towards your mixed friends.

“Of course,” Connie replies. “I’ll buy you a drink if I see you?”

“Yes,” you say, for it’s all you can say without feeling like you’re going to explode from overheating. And now that the group is mere steps away, you don’t want to compromise the secret hanging between you like a forbidden fruit, waiting for someone to pluck it off the branch and make it known to the world.

Connie says nothing else in confidence to you. All you catch once he turns to leave is a quick goodbye before he follows Porco back up the stairs to his books, meanwhile Ymir is officially taken with the blonde who is pulling her arm in their wake. Only Reiner remains, one eyebrow raised suspiciously.

“Don’t,” you caution him.

“Don’t what?”

“Just…don’t.”

Reiner grins; something tells you he knows more than he’s letting on that he does. But he saves you the drawn out humiliation of raising the point in the library, but you’re not in the clear, yet.

Not by a long shot.

21:43 Reiner: soooo 21:43 Reiner: what happened with you and connie 21:45 You: nothing? 21:45 You: i dont even know him lol 21:46 Reiner: why r u lying 21:46 You: ?? 21:47 Reiner: ik you guys fucked lol

A horrified cry leaves your mouth when the message pops up. All you’ve done since Armin’s birthday is avoid the window of possibility of anybody finding out what happened on Halloween. Are you really that bad of an actress?

21:50 You: ????? 21:51 Ymir: wtf 21:51 Ymir: when?? 21:51 Ymir: how do u even know eachother???? im so confused

For a while, you entertain not replying at all — the horror of both of your best friends now knowing your embarrassing secret for some unkind reason is still sinking in.

But, Reiner seems all too enthusiastic to fill in with what he’s learned.

21:53 Ymir: hellooo???? 21:54 Reiner: on halloween hahah 21:54 Reiner: i only know because connie told me

(At the same time…)

21:55 Ymir: he’s obvs lying 21:55 You: why would he even tell you that? wtf 21:55 Ymir: ITS TRUE??

Lying would have been the smartest option. As Ymir begins to freak out, you berate yourself for not thinking of it sooner.

Still, the pressing irritation you feel in your head builds as you try and make sense of why Connie would even tell people. What on earth would he gain from doing that? A kick? An ego?

Suddenly, Porco’s rumoured “crush” on you starts tasting sour in your mouth.

22:08 Reiner: he kept asking for your insta and i thought it was weird 22:08 Reiner: so i made him tell me why tf he was so desperate 22:08 Reiner: and he said he hooked up w u on halloween and was looking for u so he could like link up or something 22:08 Reiner: idk 22:09 Reiner: i think he was blocked anyway looool why would you do that

Hey, it had been a knee-jerk reaction! But you wouldn’t expect either of them to understand, not when you barely understood yourself.

If only you could be like your drunken self all the time — maybe the simple mission of acting normal around Ghostface would be made ten times easier if you were.

Your mind slides over the memory of the utility cupboard again, and you urgently shake your head and sigh, throwing your phone to the end of the bed with a groan.

Perhaps it wouldn’t be so complicated if only you had left it alone. If you’d never gone online stalking, found Connie and then blocked him after viewing a story posted two minutes ago, then maybe you could have acted normal when the next meeting arose.

And, while you’re thinking about it, at least it was in public. You can’t imagine how stupid you might have acted if Connie had found you alone, perhaps in a bar or at another party, where the dark lights and the loud music could have entranced you into his arms and bent over some other questionable surface.

Considering how often Connie and Halloween have resurfaced in your mind, you can’t honestly say that none of the above wouldn’t have happened if you saw him again. You were lucky to have escaped in the library, albeit after a very awkward exchange.

With almost confident certainty, you believed there would be no chance Connie would want to broach a conversation with you again, not after the tremendous letdown of finding out the way you acted on Halloween was a one-time exclusive.

Having reflected on the whole thing, and suffered the painful consequence of Ghostface being a sexy friend of a friend, you’ll never do it again.

Your phone has been vibrating relentlessly since you threw it, and you reach for it once more and gloss over the messages. A few jump out:

22:18 Ymir: sorry its just too random 22:18 Ymir: im still in shock 22:18 Reiner: ikr 22:18 Reiner: someone needs to tell pock that his dreams of seducing her are over 22:19 Ymir: jfc 22:19 Ymir: im gay but even I’D pick connie over porco 22:19 Ymir: hey was he at least good?? 22:20 You: it was fine 22:20 Ymir: so thats a yes LMAO 22:20 Ymir: i just cant believe you let him fuck u on halloween 22:20 Ymir: YOU!!! 22:20 Ymir: its too amazing 22:21 Reiner: gotta hold her back at pocks bday lololol 22:21 Reiner: something abt a party just gets her going 22:21 You: why dont u stfu

Unbeknownst to them both, you’ve been having the same concerns. Porco’s birthday is a bump in the road you’re currently driving along to get to complete peace and happiness; the final birthday of November, the opportunity for a final drink before rushing to finish assignments before the Christmas rush begins, the scary certainty of seeing Ghostface again — only this time without his mask, which is honestly ten times worse in the sense that you can no longer pretend he is a thing, a someone, an entity drilling into you.

He will instead be Connie Springer; handsome, charming, popular, and as you’ve been made aware, a man who has been trying to look you up online for whatever reason you’re unwilling to think of.

And a little bit of alcohol never stopped you from making a complete and utter fool of yourself.

So far, so good: you’ve been at Invoke for an hour and a half now, and there have been no signs of Ghostface.

Ghostface is what you have elected to calling Connie in an effort to keep him at an arms length, and so far, it has not been working in your favour. Every mention of Ghostface takes you back to the 31st, and now that you’ve been in the club for almost two hours and have made the stupid mistake of drinking two (single) vodka lemonades, you can already feel your conflicted feelings about the subject simply fading away. Which is terrible! The total opposite of what you want!

Every so often, around Porco’s attempts to seduce you, you’ve found your eyes wandering around the lower level of the club, anxiously searching for a buzzed head to appear in a crowd. It doesn’t seem as though Porco minds or has even noticed, for his conversation simply folds over into a discussion with Reiner over something you don’t understand.

Unfortunately, however, your aimless people watching has caught someone else’s attention.

“Who’re you looking for?”

Instantly, you tense and rip your eyes off the crowd and back towards the voice, which belongs to Lynne, one of your friends from your Wednesday lectures and a good friend of Ymir’s. She smiles at you sweetly, eyebrows high.

“Oh, nobody, really.”

Lynne’s brows furrow until Ymir jumps in with, “She’s looking for Connie.”

You toss her the dirtiest glare you can conjure up, which she ignores pointedly, while Lynne’s features lift once again with recognition.

“Oh! The Spanish one?”

“I don’t know,” you tell her honestly, pinned under her eager gaze.

“With the really short hair?”

Your heart squeezes. “Oh, um—”

“—Yeah, Springer,” Ymir continues, immune to the look of pure disgrace on your face aimed in her direction. Knowing that there’s little you can do or say to keep her quiet on the matter, your shoulders sag and you lean back in your chair. By now, both Reiner and Porco have lent their ears to the cause, with both of them shuffling closer on their chairs.

Lynne sets her martini on the table. “I know him! My friend Lea has a crush on him, I think. Actually, I think a lot of the girls in the Quantum Mechanics class like him…”

Quantum Mechanics? Your eyebrows raise, not to mention with the effortless fact of Ghostface being more popular than you realised. Hardly surprising, though. If he was in one of your classes, you’d join the percentage.

“Girls take the Quantum Mechanics class?” Porco asks with a bemused laugh. “Wish I’d have known that before I picked Particle Physics. Nothing but nerds in there.”

“Don’t worry, your time picking up girls will come once you’re flying planes like Maverick,” Reiner assures him with a firm slap on the back.

“Wasn’t he in the Navy?” asks Lynne.

“There’s still time for all that,” Porco replies with a wave of his hand. While they focus on naval aviators and physics, you’re thankful the subject of Connie Springer has been put to rest, though you don’t forget to level Ymir with another dirty look before squirming in your chair and rising to your feet.

“Where’re you going?” Porco calls.

“Getting another drink,” you tell him. Your last glass of vodka lemonade had been drained a while ago. “Want one?”

“Sure, I’ll come with you,” he says, and while you’d rather like to avoid getting Porco’s hopes up now that his supposed “crush” on you has been made semi-public, it’s his birthday, and refusing would make you look like an asshole.

So, you nod and hang around while he chugs the last bit of his drink before rising to his feet, coming to your side with a hand on your lower back before you both set off down the miniature flight of stairs off the platform where the tables are, and down towards the sunken, dimly lit bar.

Since you arrived here, Invoke has doubled in guests; the dance floor is thick with dancing bodies, the music so loud that you can feel it vibrating through your feet and up your legs. Around the bar, a large crowd has formed, but you’re actually thankful of Porco when he shuffles you both into place at the far end, in an effort to slowly wedge the stragglers out of place once they’ve been served their drink.

“So, how’s your birthday been?” Might as well make some conversation to pass the time.

Porco looks back at you, perhaps surprised you spoke first considering you’ve made a brilliant effort in saying, at most, four words all night.

“Yeah, pretty good,” he replies with a smile. His arm tightens a smidge around your waist — you’re trying to ignore it valiantly. “My dad’s coming up tomorrow. Reckon I’ll be hungover for that.”

“That sounds nice,” you say politely. “…What’re you gonna order to drink?”

He scans the menu across the bar and hums; you see his lips tighten in on themselves as he thinks, before deciding on the worst drink imaginable, being a Fireball Cinnamon whiskey. You hope the cringe isn’t visible — who the hell orders whiskey in a club? Porco, apparently.

Three minutes pass and you’ve barely made a dent in the packed crowd by the bar, and as you’re still mulling over what vodka infused drink to indulge in, somebody slides into place on the free side of you. You feel their chest brushing past your arm, spot their elbow leaning on the surface next to your forearm, and the look on your face is no doubt comical when you lift your head and face the arrival to your left.

Porco turns his head, too, and his mouth widens into a joyful grin.

“Hey! You made it!”

With an expression of frozen surprise, you all but gape up at Ghostface as he leans beside you, his eyes flickering from you to Porco in amusement before he launches into some birthday greeting, his eyes above your head as though you aren’t even there. Perhaps a mercy on his part — you lower your eyes to the golden view of his neck and collarbones, the shirt he’s wearing uncannily similar to both Porco and Reiner. Looks like they’re matching, though there’s no contest on who is wearing it the best.

Before your mouth can water, you look away, straight forwards behind the bar. Your game of reducing him to Ghostface is forgotten. You pleadingly stare at the bartender in hopes that they might take pity on your situation and come to take your order, but to no avail.

The friends talk over your head for a while before they remember you’re still there. Although Porco’s arm is still tied around your waist, you feel Connie’s fingers brush over your arm gently, your eyes darting back towards him. Traitors.

“How’re we doing, mama? You good?”

Your jaw loosens.

“We should do shots,” Porco declares over the top of your head.

Connie nods, smile still wide, “Sounds good to me. What do you think?” He looks back down at you curiously.

Though your mouth is unbearably dry, and nothing sounds less appealing than the chemical-burn of a shot scratching down your throat, you muster a nod and helplessly turn back to the bartender, who has finally made his way around the sliding length of the bar and towards the three of you.

It’s busy tonight, and you can’t blame him for being busy, but with the birthday boy who apparently has a crush on you attached to your waist like gorilla glue, and Ghostface who is potentially interested in you after fucking you over a random suitcase sewn into your side, every minor inconvenience is beginning to feel personal.

“Let’s do tequila,” Connie suggests.

Your reaction is instinctive, “I hate tequila. Anything else, please.”

Tequila is the demon drink — it is the cause of every terrible decision you’ve ever made. It’s the small shot you took that made you unhinged on Halloween. It’s the first domino to fall before crashing into all the other dominoes put in place.

Connie’s grin widens. “Aw, come on.”

“Three tequila shots!” Porco’s already yelling the order over the bar. You almost want to scream.

The bartender slides over three little shot glasses almost overflowing with tequila, along with a little mini plate of limes that Porco brings closer with his fingers. A pool of dread is forming in real time as Connie leans around you, chest flat on your bicep, to grab his glass and yours, while Porco excitedly lifts both his glass and gaze in your direction.

Connie takes the little shot glass in his hands and lifts it up in a toast. “To the birthday boy!”

Porco says something in a jubilant cry, and for reasons unknown to you in that moment, you inch for your shot and turn to face Connie — bad move.

You forget to even shot yours as Connie lifts the salt-lined glass to his lips, licking the rim with his eyes glued onto yours. The flat spread of his tongue around the rim is what you zero in on for a moment, shimmering with the salt in a coy manner before he swallows the shot with perfect strategy. He barely even grimaces once its down, a glittering trail of it sliding down from his lip to his chin, and it is only when he wedges the lime between his lips in a grin that you remember your shot.

Porco shudders dramatically behind you. “Ugh, nasty!” And before he can get a word in sideways about your lack of ceremony in taking your shot, you reluctantly rip your eyes off Connie and down your shot, cringing immediately at the vile flavour, even when sucking the ever-living daylights out of the lime once its burning down your throat.

“Not so bad, right?” Connie laughs, his lips so close to your ear that you can almost feel them against you. Guiltily, although you hold no obligation to entertain Porco’s rumoured interest in you, you glance over in Porco’s direction and find, with a twist in your gut, that he’s already shuffled along, loudly laughing with another group of guys further down the bar, each in matching shirts. Must be a boy thing.

“How about that drink I promised you?” he asks, though it sounds more like a statement than a request, but you nod regardless. The bartender drifts back to collect the empty shot glasses and plate and glances up at you and Connie expectantly.

You feel him shift around you, crossing behind your back to stand on your right side, where Porco had once been situated. His left hand stays on the bar as he does this, until his arm is crossed around your back caging you inwards.

“Vodka lemonade, please,” you request to the bartender, who has served you this drink three times now and honestly had half the mind to run the order by you anyway. Connie pulls a face, intrigued, before making the same order. “A double,” you add. You’re going to need it.

Connie’s arm tightens around you when the bartender reaches for two new glasses.

“Wasn’t it vodka orange on Halloween?” he murmurs, this time with his lips definitely brushing your ear.

You shudder slightly. “Nobody brought lemonade to the party, I made do.”

“Uh-huh,” he replies. “How much you had tonight?”

“Two singles,” you reply, “and the tequila.”

“Uh-oh, I gotta catch up,” Connie says. His weight is angled on the bar in a way that makes you feel very exposed, despite being so wrapped up in his arm that to an outsider, they wouldn’t be able to guess that you weren’t there together.

The smile on Connie’s lips softens slightly, not as entertained as it was before, and he lets his eyes wander across your face for a moment until he says, “You look so good.”

Hesitating, you look at him and study the expression on his face. Within it, there are no signs to suggest he is lying — why would he, anyway? You’ve been trying to come up with excuses to justify Connie being here with an arm around you, as if he’s here for any other reason than because he’s interested in you. No surprise that you’ve been unsuccessful in that department. But acknowledging that he is willingly seeking you out after Halloween and more specifically, after that embarrassing shit show in the library, is a dangerous game to play.

Besides. So good — he could have just said “good” and moved on. But he didn’t. And you feel your face burning, your body sweating. Just from a little adverb.

“So do you,” you reply after a prolonged silence. He doesn’t seem too fussed by it, only more endeared. You go to say something more, and so does he, but then the bartender shuffles back with two glasses and thrusts the card machine in front of Connie. He whips out his card with no hesitation and pays for the drinks, arm loosening around you slightly as you reach for your drink and take a deep breath, spinning to survey the dance floor.

Ymir and Reiner have since moved from the table; you see Reiner with your handbag over his shoulder, leaning against a counter that frames the dance floor with a cocky smile, Ymir by his arm. Both are staring at you with smug expressions. Reiner even throws a thumbs up, and you scowl at him, feeling lost when Connie’s arm unravels from your waist and falls down between you both, his fingers pinching at your thigh gently as he turns his head to the right and says something to Porco.

“I’ll come find you later,” Connie says loudly over the music when he looks back at you. Something hopeful flashes in his eyes — it sounds more like a promise.

Despite his hand still being wrapped around your thigh like a goddamn claw, your thighs tighten and he lets go, eyes widening just slightly enough for you to notice.

There’s only one thing you can blame when you look up at Connie, in a daze, and say, “Okay,” like it’s nothing at all…

It’s the tequila, you think adamantly. Yes. Blame the tequila.

Connie’s smile transforms into a smirk, so wide that his teeth bare and the dimples you noticed in the library blossom on his face. He dips his head with a slight laugh, and then he lifts his fingers under your chin and affectionately flicks, his thumb running softly under your chin until his nail grazes your skin on his release.

“Be good, mama,” he says, and then he turns away, sliding into Porco’s new formation of friends so effortlessly that you have to blink a few times before it registers that he’s moved along.

Your stomach folds in on itself and clenches, and you take a large gulp of vodka lemonade and bravely turn to Reiner and Ymir, who both look entirely too pleased with the progress you’re making. Maybe you’ll be lucky and Connie will stay occupied until you manage to leave without doing anything horrendously out of character like on Halloween…

But you were wrong. So unbelievably wrong.

The hallway to the club toilets is wide and cold, the music reduced in a way that makes walking down its length feel like entering an alternate dimension of sorts. Your head is spinning once you cross the threshold, every drink you’ve had since the shot with Connie and Porco at the bar taking effect. And there have been at least three more since then, not including the criminally delicious Sourz shots you took with Ymir and Reiner, and then another shot you took off Lynne’s stomach — don’t ask, because you’re not willing to talk about how you ended up doing that in front of everybody.

The men and women’s toilets are right next to one another, with the one disabled toilet suspiciously locked and guarded by a fleet of friends who are nursing a sick girl back to health with a glass of water. If you’re not careful, that’ll be you later on.

You push past them heading for the women’s bathroom, when all of a sudden, a strangely familiar feeling of slender muscle wraps around your waist from behind and within a few seconds, you feel your feet lifting off the floor.

Shock rises up in you like a fountain, a surprised squeal leaving your lips as you watch the women’s bathroom disappear past your arm. Whoever has you bundled up has no intention of helping you on your way to open the floodgates — oh, no. Instead, the arm carries you into the men’s bathroom and around a corner, and you feel your heart rising to your throat, along with another string of surprised noises.

You’re carried past a wall of mirrors lining the sinks, and with a fleeting glance, you spy the shape of someone behind you wearing all black, and you might’ve wrangled around in panic if it weren’t for his buzzed head of hair, the sniggering in your ear. Actually, you might still wrangle around, but for a different reason.

Connie carries you to a stall at the far end that is thankfully clean, and he swiftly shuffles inside and presses you up against the door, sliding the lock in place while he laughs in your face, lips so close to yours they might as well be touching. His hand smothers into your hair affectionately while you stare up at him in bewilderment.

“What are you doing?” you gasp, still trying to process that you are, in fact, in the mens bathroom. While you’re here, you might as well admit to yourself that you expected it to be weirder in here than it is — where was the little trinket lady selling perfumes and key rings by the sinks? Where’s the puking people, the chatter, the laughter? There’s no sense of community in here whatsoever!

“Tour of the mens bathroom, you’re welcome.”

“I’m not allowed in here!”

“So what?” Connie laughs, sounding more infatuated than amused — but you blame any misreading of Connie’s behaviour on the however many gallons of alcohol running wild in your body. Yes, oh it is so easy to blame the alcohol! Connie’s nose gently pushes against yours, and you fight the dreadful urge to kiss him.

“I needed to pee,” you say weakly.

He nods over his shoulder, “There’s a toilet right there if you can’t hold it in, nenita.”

“I’m not going to pee in front of you!”

“Why?” he laughs. Oh, he’s finding this terribly funny, and you hate that every laugh makes your stomach dip. “You’ve done it before.”

You gape at him. “That’s totally different!”

“Not really,” he croons, and before you can protest any further, Connie leans forward and presses his mouth against yours.

You might have swooned, if not for the door pressed against your back and his body trapping you against it. His mouth is firmly pressed to yours, the taste of his last drink strong on your lips — vodka orange, how peculiar. It feels warm, a little clumsy at the worst of times, though you’re not so much looking to fault him on his performance, your mind too busy focusing on his hands cradling your head like a prized possession, the irregular throb between your legs back to torment you.

Connie shifts a thigh between your legs, and with a lurch, your head falls back and crashes against the door rather unsexily. He sniggers again, still peppering kisses to your puckered lips, his mouth wet and shiny as he pulls away and presses a trail from your lips to your cheek, down to the slope under your earlobe down your neck.

Your heart is drumming erratically in your chest, your head spinning for a multitude of reasons. If you weren’t currently sandwiched in a toilet cubicle, you’d be incredibly turned on — actually, where you are is inconsequential. You know for a fact that you’re wet and it’s Connie Springer’s fault.

Your body sags slightly, each kiss pressed to your neck burning you like a naked flame. Connie’s hands find themselves all the way down by your thighs, pulling up the useless little skirt you’ve decided to wear for the special occasion of Porco’s birthday. Not for any reason in particular, of course, other than because you looked exceptional in it.

Connie’s teeth push against your skin as he grins, fiddling his fingers near your panties. With a skirt that short, he wonders why you bothered in the first place. He wiggles a finger up to your crotch and laughs to himself when it’s wet.

“I love these short skirts, mama,” he says quietly.

Of course, Halloween’s short skirt had been solely part of the costume, but today, there’s no real excuse for just how short is actually is.

“This Pock’s birthday present?”

You whimper, but only because Connie moves his fingers away and presses his hips up against you. His nose prods your earlobe, and you feel just how hard he actually is beneath his trousers now that he’s aligning his chest with yours.

“No,” you say rather defensively. “It’s for me.”

“Oh, really?” he asks.

“And for you, I guess,” you hurry to add. The tequila’s talking again!

Connie hums along to what you’re saying with keen interest, pressing a wet kiss to your jaw before he moves his lips against yours, ghosting them across your mouth while his eyes find yours in the dark.

“One of these days, I swear I’ll fuck you on something comfortable,” he tells you, and you pause for a second until it registers. His mouth curves, “just not today.”

With that, Connie lifts up your skirt and tugs down your panties, all while you stand there with your jaw hanging low, eyes wide in the thrilled rush. For a second, your hands drop to his waistline, shyly toying with his buttons.

“I think it’s real cute that you’re shy today,” Connie starts, already spreading your pussy apart with his fingers. His body loosens up when you ping the button free from the front of his trousers, as though letting you undress him.

“I’m not shy,” you protest. You were shy before, but now you have the foolish guidance of alcohol in your system, the only reason you’re not slutting it out for him the way you were in the utility cupboard is because you can now see him, and because you’re in a club bathroom.

On Halloween, the darkness made you more confident than it should’ve; now, you can see Connie in the very dim bathroom light, very much real, very much grinning hopefully while he stabs a finger into you, watching with joy as you gasp in pleasure.

“Shy girl,” he murmurs against your mouth.

Although he’s unbearably close, you manage to pull down his trousers and fist at the hem of his underwear, eager to prove otherwise. Turns out you didn’t need the Halloween darkness to feel confident; all it took was a little comment from the man you’ve been thinking about fucking you for over a week, and his finger up your cunt.

Your mouth hangs open when he lazily pushes his finger in and out of you, adding a second after a few minutes and pressing a kiss or two to the corner of your mouth. Connie hears you let out a breathless whimper, his fingers curling.

“Feels just how I remembered,” Connie mutters.

“God.”

It takes real effort not to moan out loud in the cubicle. Your hands fly around his wrist, hidden between your thighs comfortably, and you keep your eyes closed as you ever so slightly grind your hips backwards and forwards. Without even opening them, you know that Connie is looking at you darkly, his gaze so heavy you can feel it in the same realm his fingers are — his looks are sexual all on their own, you’re amazed to discover.

You bite your lip, braving a look at the man in front of you. Connie’s cool and collected, his expression as impassive as his Ghostface mask was, and by some twist of fate, you feel no embarrassment or urge to hide away when you look into his eyes, those little shadowed beads staring almost boredly into you. Though, you know he’s far from bored — his dick is so hard between his legs it looks painful, and you glance down at it, reaching for it with your hands.

Connie flinches when your hand comes into contact with his cock, the warmth of your fingers unexpected as you run one finger over the tip, your other hand wrapping around the base of his dick. This you never had to do on Halloween; back then, he’d just ushered you in the cupboard and bent you over. Must have been rock solid under his cloak, brushing the tip against your panties until you all but begged him to fuck you.

“Not so shy now,” you sneer at him.

Connie kisses you with a grin. “You’re so brave for touching my cock, honey. Nice job.”

“Thanks.”

His mouth wanders again, but your confidence is coming back in a giant wave; not long after Connie’s got his fingers pruned with your wetness, a cocky and drunken smile on his face, you reluctantly force his hand away and watch the smile slide off his face when he looks up at you in alert.

Whatever he is about to say is cut short when you sink to your haunches and find Connie’s dick level with your eyes. Immediately, Connie’s hands rise from below to above, smoothing around your head and cheeks as you assess the mission stood tall before you.

There’s no time wasted on stalling; Connie can’t help but let out a quiet moan when you take more than half of his dick into your mouth at once.

In your head, you keep telling yourself to watch him, gauge every reaction until they’re things to get more drunk off, but even after a minute or so of watching him, your lips tight around his cock, you feel an embarrassed flush work its way from your cheeks to your neck.

The little flat circle of light is behind his head, his face coloured with shadows, and you can only see his eyes due to the glint of them flashing in the dark. You find, unsurprisingly, that it excites you — looking for the face you know is there somewhere, uncertain of what he looks like as you suck his cock.

Connie’s hands tighten slightly around your head, his legs widening apart as he stables his swaying body. His thumb brushes across your neck before curling up to your lower lip, curled against his dick, and he hisses, so quiet that you almost miss it. Then, he says something in Spanish and pulls your face closer to him.

You feel his dick brush the back of your throat right as you gag with the length of him, your thumb tightly wrapped in your palm. Not that it works — each time he pulls out and thrusts his dick back in, you retch, the reflex hitting, which only makes him moan harder.

“Shit, mama,” he groans, voice a little strained but far from tuckered out. You glance up around tears; his head is leaning to the side, his cheek practically glued to his shoulder, and a glint of saliva on his lip tells you he’s wide-mouthed, overcome with pleasure.

You didn’t suck his cock on Halloween, there’d been no time for it. His eyes flicker down and find yours, the light hitting him just right, and you whimper around him, a hand cautiously coming to the base of his dick to save you from another round of gagging.

“Gotta say,” he rasps, grunting when he jerks his hips back against your mouth. This time, you adjust; your tongue is flat against his shaft, running along the vein bolting across it while he staggers and falls still. His head straightens as he looks down at you appreciatively, “I love looking at you like this.”

You hum. He can interpret it however he likes, which you suppose he does because he grins, chuckles to himself in satisfaction, and gently slaps his hand across your cheek. It barely hurts, but you put on a show to whine around him and wrinkle your nose, which he seems to like. He moans loudly, running his thumb across every feature he can reach without accidentally removing himself from the wet hole he’s buried inside.

“I liked my shy girl, but you just look so fucking pretty when you’re actin’ like a slut.”

Your brows raise, though you can’t say you didn’t expect that. After all, you’d dug out your sluttiest skirt from first year just for Porco’s birthday, all whilst trying to convince yourself that it wasn’t for him because you knew he’d be there. The affectionate way he’d called you “slut” on Halloween echoes in your mind. You knew nothing about Connie, and yet you’d read him like a book.

You feel your body inching slowly back against the door, and you wouldn’t be shocked if your shoes were visible underneath the stall door from the outside. It had been the most trivial thing about getting on your haunches to suck Connie’s cock, but all of a sudden, you’re reminded of where the fuck you are and your heart stammers, your hand loosening around his dick.

Fortunately, Connie doesn’t misread this. Instead, he pulls himself out from your throat with a quiet curse and pulls at your hands so you’re up on your feet. Slightly off balance, you wobble in his arms as he presses a wet kiss to your mouth, his hands wrenching around your thighs and lifting you up off the floor once more.

You snake your arms around his neck, hands brushing against the bleached fuzz atop his head, while Connie reaches between his legs for his dick and slides it until he finds the wet folds of your pussy. You moan into his mouth happily, the tip of his dick sliding between you, lapping up all your juice like a tongue.

With one arm wrapped underneath you, holding you up around his waist, he quickly reaches into the breast pocket of his shirt and pulls out a glossy packet, a condom he took out of his wallet in a hurry whilst watching you set off in the direction of the bathrooms.

At least one of you is responsible — you’d forgotten about it completely, and you get comfortable and stable on his hip while he tears open the packet with his teeth and folds it over his cock.

“You came prepared,” you say to fill the silence.

He laughs through his nose. “We both knew it was gonna happen.”

Did you? Hoped for, maybe — knew, not so much.

“We didn’t use it last time,” you point out.

“Rookie mistake. Won’t happen again, angel.”

Rookie — you almost laugh.

You run a finger across the nape of his neck where his buzzed hair ends, watching him shudder as he makes sure the condoms on properly, “Just this once, then.”

Connie’s eyes flicker up to yours. “Oh, you’re precious.”

Then, now that his tip is back pressed against your entrance, he lines himself up with a grin and pushes you down. Your legs are tight around his waist, no doubt strangling him, but now that you’ve taken a seat on his dick, your jaw slackens even wider and you forget where you are again, moaning so loud that Connie has to come forward and kiss you just to keep you quiet.

He laughs into your mouth, wildly entertained by the fit of your bodies, his body relaxing now that his dick is back somewhere wet and warm. Like Halloween, you’re tight, which feels miraculous considering how many times your fingers and toys have been shoved up there since that night, trying to find an alternative to having to seek him out, hoping to forget he existed and simply replace his legacy with something inanimate. Failure was met. Here you are.

You’ve never been fucked against a toilet stall door before, and you find with slight shyness that you don’t quite know what to do. Keeping your eyes on his and arms wrapped around his neck, you struggle to drag yourself up and down off his dick, though he seems very content with doing all the work himself, and you quickly let him.

Connie pistons his hips back up into you, going so deep that a tight wheeze leaves your mouth straight into his. He remains as cocky as he has been all night, the corners of his mouth curved upwards as he watches you with a narrowed gaze.

The stall door rattles dangerously behind your back, the plastic rattle filling your ears as Connie picks you back up higher, his mouth flushed against your own to quell your pleasured noises. What he wouldn’t give to actually hear them one day.

Your cunt clenches around him and he groans, tongue flicking up past yours as he rearranges you on his cock. Your chest brushes up against his; how he desperately wants to rip off your top and shove your tits in his face, to leave little bites across your skin like a brand. Forgetful, you reach an arm up and grab the top of the stall door, taking more of him inside of you as a result. Not like there’s anyone to see you, anyway; unlike the joyful hubbub of the women’s bathroom, the men seem careless of coming in here tonight.

Your legs tighten around Connie as he daggers himself into you, winding the knot in your stomach tighter until it feels as hard as his dick is up your snatch. He hisses, his arms buckling as your back slides precariously down the door — but he doesn’t want to let up. No, you’ve both been daydreaming about each other enough times to know that this simply isn’t enough.

Connie’s just about to hike your leg higher up his body when a cacophony of laughter sounds across the bathroom, and in an instant, your hand snatches off the top of the door and he scurries to catch you so you don’t fall to the floor with a fright. Your eyes are blown wide with the horrifying realisation that people are coming in — you spoke too soon.

Connie pulls himself out of you, clamping a hand over your mouth as you cry out, the tight fit of his dick felt now he’s gone. Then, he spins you around and is left with no other choice than to bend you over the toilet. The lid is closed and you cock a leg up on it instinctively, your hands clawing at the shelf above the tank.

There’s simply no time to spend being a snob about the setting. It’s a downgrade from the utility cupboard, but considering that was where you first let Connie fuck you, you can’t be too disgraced by your second encounter being in a toilet cubicle.

Third times a charm, right?

Connie bends you over, his hand sliding from your mouth and sliding to your ass. Both of his hands hold you in place while he fumbles back for your hole, and once he finds it, quivering in anticipation, he plunges back inside, glancing at you as you very quietly let out a breath once his dick sinks inside.

Like old times, he fits in there like a man made for it, the stretched burn of his dick gone now that you’re once again familiar with the shape and size of him.

Suddenly aware of the people using the bathroom, you bite your inner cheek desperately, hoping to remain as quiet as you possibly can when a man like Connie is fucking himself into you. A flame of arousal burns inside of you as the voices grow louder, more rambunctious. Connie clenches his teeth and smiles, trying not to laugh when the voices begin to talk, oblivious to you both.

You can’t stop. Not now.

You feel him settling in your lower stomach, your ass slamming down on his skin with a slap so sudden it makes you toss your head back to look at Connie with wide eyes. His smile splits apart, silent laughter falling from his mouth as he stills in place.

Nobody seems to have heard — if they have, they are minding their own business.

Connie shakes his head at you slightly as if in assurance, and you clamp your teeth down so hard on your bottom lip that Connie has to nod his head up to force you to look away. Your eyes return to the peeling paint of the walls, trying so eagerly to keep the knot tightening in your tummy from unravelling in ropes of white.

Connie shifts a hand up to his abdomen, and you feel his knuckles against your ass to keep the sound of slapping skin from rippling out across the bathroom. Whoever’s here is loyally hanging around the urinals on the parallel side, a few others talking over the sound of running sinks.

Connie bristles when you clench harder around him, desperate to keep your mind and body in tact. Your leg shifts, letting Connie sink deeper ever so slightly, the tip of him pushing past an untouched boundary.

God, you want to scream; yell, cry, moan out and let everyone know. But you don’t. Your mouth hangs open and a silent scream comes out, your face twisted up in pleasure as Connie quickens. His dick spears into you like a machine, so perfect in rhythm that you’re amazed you’re able to stay so quiet. You do whimper, however, so quietly that the people outside would have to be pushed up against the door to hear it.

You knock your head back, braving a look over your shoulder at Connie, keeping your cool when you find his eyes are already looking at you, glazed over in a kind of hunger made visible now you’ve turned around to face the fall of the light. A little bead of sweat lines his neck, and you crane even further to look at your ass bouncing off his hand. His other hand creeps around from your waist between your legs, where his thumb and finger flick and twist at your clit.

You twitch violently, the build up of tension so strong that you can feel a heat rising up from the balls of your heel up your legs. You look at Connie pleadingly, an unspoken message sent from your eyes into his. Connie’s brows raise as he pounds into you silently, playing dumb. But when you accidentally whimper a little louder than expected, he can’t hide his amusement.

Of course, he knows you’re close. If your shaking legs weren’t enough indication, then the way your cunt is clutching him like a vice has given you away. Luckily for you, he’s not absurdly far behind — you feel better than any cunt he’s been in before, and he doesn’t think it would take much for him to coax one out of him whenever you were involved.

Connie squeezes your ass with his hand, abandoning his safety assurance of remaining quiet, and now that the taps are back on and the music has picked up a bit outside, Connie speeds up relentlessly.

Your hands slide from the edge of the shelf up to the wall, and with nothing to grab, you slump ungracefully and do your best to keep upright. His cock burrows in deeper, tip prodding against a spot that makes you carelessly moan out loud, but that doesn’t matter anymore.

You can hear the sound of your ass slapping against him as your bodies connect, his grunts more pronounced now he can afford a bit of noise with the taps.

He doesn’t even care if they can hear, as long as it’s not a bouncer determined to kick you both out of the club. Connie doesn’t even spare more than a second entertaining the idea before he falls back into the wickedly cosmic feeling of your pussy around his dick. He would happily put himself up here every day of the week if he had the chance.

Meanwhile, you feel a bubbling sort of pain in your lower stomach, the knot unwinding slightly until your legs shake uncontrollably, a white rush of heat blinding you as you give way. Thankfully, Connie catches you and holds you up, feeling your pussy heat up with pleasure as you cry out and cum around his cock. You immediately silence yourself and clamp your mouth closed, but the taps silence outside and you fear the damage may have already been done.

Connie hasn’t caught the silence of the taps yet. He pulls your hips back so that he continues to push his tip against your spongey walls, feeling the ribbons of your cum dribbling down both of your legs, down the length of his fingers as he toys with your clit like a button. His chest rises and falls heavily as he mumbles to himself, like trying to contain a whispery moan, until he can’t any longer.

Connie spears in and out, and in, and out, your pussy clenching up sensitively as he finishes his tempo and slams back into you with a final drag. He bows his head, groaning as he cums, the condom filling with his seed warmly. He remains inside of you for a moment, shuddering through the tremors of your orgasms, eyes closed tightly as he twitches. You flinch as his dick jolts inside of you, and tossing your head over your shoulder tiredly, you wait patiently until he pulls his eyes open and finds your gaze eagerly looking at him.

He laughs breathily, ears trained outside the door. For a second, it’s clear, until both of you hear a very downtrodden, “What the fuck” from someone at the sinks, and he has to reign in his laughter in an effort to gaslight the stranger into thinking they imagined the sound of you both cumming.

Ordinarily, you would have been ablaze with disgraced horror at the thought of someone hearing you being fucked. But now, with Connie’s endeared gaze on your face, his smile the kind of smile you’d want to do sinful things for, you find yourself shaking with bemused laughter.

Of course, it’s the tequila. Totally the tequila, and not because you secretly enjoy being a slut for Connie Springer.

“Still a slut?” you ask. God, you almost sound desperate for him to say yes!

Connie sniggers, running his hands up your arched back. “Biggest slut I ever saw.” Your smile widens happily. “Look at you grinning about it.”

“Sorry,” you say earnestly, tightening around him as you try to heave yourself up. Connie hisses unexpectedly and pulls himself out of you. He reaches to the side and unravels a few squares of tissue, using it to kindly wipe between your legs. You stop him midway, “I’ll take that pee now. Turn, please.”

Connie laughs and throws his hands up in surrender, spinning on his feet after grabbing more tissue to dry the slick juices off his dick. You take pleasure in staring at the shaped curve of his ass as he does this, half-disappointed when he reaches for his underwear and trousers and pulls them up over whatever goods you were marvelling over.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” Connie says offhandedly.

“Don’t care,” you tell him, wiping up and flushing. You did a valiant job in keeping all that in as he was fucking you — well, you wouldn’t want a repeat of squirting down his Halloween costume, would you? “We’re not there yet.”

He looks over his shoulder as the toilet flushes. “How ‘bout you let me take you out sometime so we can get there?”

You smile at him, “You want to see me pee that badly?”

Connie rolls his eyes, turning his body so he’s facing you as he pulls you into his arms. “Not what I meant.”

“I know,” you laugh, unable to help yourself when you lean forwards to peck his lips. His eyes widen happily, the dimples deepening on his cheeks. “Ask me in the morning.”

“How? You blocked me, remember,” Connie says, sighing with an emphasised sadness. He locks his hands behind your back, caging you against his chest.

“I did no such thing.”

“If I look right now, I’ll be unblocked, then?”

You nod, nose brushing his. “You will.” You unblocked him out of morbid curiosity before heading to the club with Ymir and Reiner.

Connie hums loudly, brushing a kiss over your lips, then your cheek, then your jaw. His arms squeeze slightly around you before he gives in and releases you, reaching round to slide the lock free. He then pulls it open, wedging next to you before creating a gap for you to leave first, like a true gentleman.

“I can’t go out first,” you tell him. “What if someone sees me?”

“We’ll walk together,” Connie offers, already ushering you out of the cubicle. As you step out, he hurriedly fiddles with the back of your skirt, plucking it out from where its caught in your underwear and he follows your quick steps to the sinks.

Despite your anxious desperation to flee the scene without being caught, you stop by the sinks and press the tap on, coating your hands in a generous amount of soap before glancing at him.

“You, too.”

He sniggers. “Yes, ma’am.”

“I know we just fucked in a toilet cubicle, but there are still germs in here,” you fuss, scrubbing your hands. “I touched the wall.”

“I only touched you.”

“Scrub.”

He slathers his hands in soap and rinses them under the water, only looking up in the mirror when someone steps into the bathroom behind you and starts with a noise of surprise once he sees you bent over the sinks.

“Um,” the guy starts. When you look up, you freeze.

“She’s drunk,” Connie says smoothly, then gestures to the cubicle you were just in, “don’t go in that one. Vomit everywhere. Poor thing.”

“Oh, okay,” the guy replies, shrugging before stalking off to the urinals. Men are really such simple creatures.

You watch him go in the mirror and look at Connie questioningly. He shrugs. He leans over to the paper towels and pulls two out, handing you one. Then, once your hands are dry, his arm returns around your waist for the mutual walk of shame out of the bathroom and back into the club.

Connie says, his mouth pressed to your head, “So where’d you wanna go?”

Your heart thumps nervously. “No preference…”

He tuts. “Think on it.” You will, thanks for the pointer.

Connie’s arm tightens around you in a way you can’t explain once you round the corner and step back out into the wide hallway, which fortunately seems less busy than it was when you last saw it — with the not so fortunate exception of Porco stopping in his tracks a few feet away from your both, his eyes jumping between Connie’s arm and your face wildly before his mouth hangs open dumbly.

Connie smiles normally. “Hey, big boy. You alright?”

Your body is tense with nerves — not even a day ago, you were being told of Porco’s rumoured crush on you; not even a few hours ago, he’d had his arm around you at the bar. Your feet shuffle uncomfortably, guilt rising, until you watch Porco’s shock expression morph into one of morbid curiosity, his brows arched in and upwards while a shocked smile takes shape on his lips.

Thankfully, he looks amused, nowhere close to annoyed or hurt like you had expected. He laughs, at first slightly and then uncontrollably, before he holds his stomach and steps closer with the bathroom in mind.

“What the fuck,” he wheezes out. You’re just happy he looks in good spirits, all things considering. It’s one thing for the girl you might like to be fucking someone else, and another thing for that someone else to be one of your best friends. “I’m good. Are you guys good?”

Connie flashes Porco a winning smile, one that makes it look like he has won a great victory whilst simultaneously making you feel like you’re missing something.

“I think so,” Connie replies, sparing you a glance out the corner of his eye.

You gulp, trying to find the words to say.

“You don’t need to explain,” Porco urges quickly, seeming far too entertained than normal. He walks up to you both and steps around you, “Literally.”

He tosses you a warm and genuine smile before vanishing around the corner, and only after he’s gone do you look back at Connie, torn between being relieved and ashamed.

“We have his blessing,” Connie says with a firm nod, and you hold back a scoff and roll your eyes, pinching the skin of his wrist.

“You’re so mean. It’s his birthday!”

“I know. That’s why his blessing is so important.”

You shake your head, ignoring his laughter in your ear as you try to march off back into the club, his arm still glued around your waist like a permanent attachment. You even find that with every step back into the buzz of the club, the expected drilled shame of being fucked by Connie never comes. Instead, you only feel a content glow widening in your chest, painting your skin, the promise of a date hanging over your head like floating stars and clouds.

Thank you tequila, you think. And, in a way, thank you Eren, for the Halloween party that led Ghostface between your legs and Connie Springer into your life.

━━━━━★. *· @gorehsk @arminarlertssword & @madstronaut for simply being the reason why i wrote this sequel

#aot #attack on titan #aot x reader #connie springer #connie springer x reader #connie x reader #connie springer imagine #connie springer smut #connie smut #aot connie #ghostface #snk #aot smut #aot imagine #connie aot #jeanbie

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raineandsky · 6 months

Note

Hello! Would you write a Villain finding out that the city's bravest (Villain's favourite) Hero has an irrational fear. Domestic vibes?

...if it interests you ofcourse!

this DOES interest me i love this!!! thank you for the request, hope you enjoy :D

Despite what the city thinks of them, the villain is not a soulless monster.

Now, the villain always enjoyed a good scare. A knife too close to the face, or a finger on a detonator, or a good old kidnapping. Easy scares, something that would scare anyone.

The hero is facing the villain’s guard dog, though, and the villain’s starting to suspect that their usual slight scare isn’t as slight as they intended.

The villain’s dog is a doberman, of course, with the teeth and the growl to match. They chose him because everyone’s scared of dobermans, and so far he’s done a pretty good job of keeping nosy heroes out of the villains business—because most heroes have the sense to turn on their heel upon seeing him.

This hero though, the absolute moron, does not seem to have this sense. They’re cowering on the floor and are decidedly not running away like they’re meant to.

The villain gives the hero a half-thoughtful nudge with their toe. “[Hero]?”

The hero’s gaze snaps up to them momentarily before settling back on their dog. “I-Is that yours?”

“Yeah.” The villain gives him an affectionate pat on the head. He’s too busy growling at the hero to respond. “He is.”

“Can you, uh, call it off or something?”

“He’s a guard dog, [Hero],” the villain snaps with a hint of exasperation, “I’m not meant to call him off, you’re meant to leave.”

“Okay, yeah, great, cool, yeah.” There’s a moment of silence filled with the dog’s rumbling. “I–I can’t leave.”

The villain snorts at that. “I know you probably worked very hard to get this far, but I can’t let you go any further. Nice try though, I—”

“No.” The hero’s voice is so quiet the villain barely hears it. “I can’t leave.”

Clearly there is a secret meaning in that. The villain can’t be bothered figuring it out. “It’s the, uh, it’s the dog,” the hero continues after a long moment. “I’m– I’m really afraid of dogs. I just freeze up when I see one, um…”

The villain can’t believe it. On any other hero, they would’ve struck gold with this. But this hero is one of the nicer ones, one of the ones that seems to have a sense of morality beyond the skewed moral compass the agency seems to drill into all heroes.

Long story short, this hero is one of the villain’s favourites. They can’t leave them like this—it’s embarrassing, for one.

The villain puts a hand on their dog. “Alright, calm down.”

The growling stops almost immediately. The dog sits, oddly polite, his head tilted like he’s just seeing the hero with interest for the first time. The hero looks back at him with no less horror than before.

The villain flops down next to them. “He’s harmless now, see?” They reach a hand out, and the dog snuffles his nose into their palm. “He’s well-trained. He only does things like that on my command.”

The villain gives him a scratch under the chin and his tail thumps rhythmically on the floor. The hero’s eyes don’t move from his face. “What’s, uh, what’s he called?”

The villain should’ve seen it coming. They could lie, maybe, but their dog would rat them out immediately. He’s too well-trained, goddamnit.

The silence stretches a second too long. “His name’s Tiny.”

Tiny’s ears prick up at his name. The hero blanches and accidentally catches his attention again. “You call that tiny?”

“It’s ironic.”

The hero watches in pained silence as the villain makes a show of petting him. They’re pressed into the wall like they’re hoping it’ll swallow them whole, their hands balled into anxiously white, tight fists.

Such a stupid name has clearly not done its job. The villain holds a hand out to the hero. The hero stares at it like the villain’s handing them a gun.

“I’m trying to help you here,” the villain says after another painfully long moment. “Give me your hand.”

The hero slowly—agonisingly slowly—sinks their hand into the villain’s. The villain’s grip snaps around their wrist so fast they yelp.

“Okay,” the villain says smoothly, “now you’re going to pet him.”

The hero’s eyes widen and their mouth moves in what is clearly about to be a sharp god, no.

The villain tugs them forwards before they can complain. Tiny bumps his nose against the hero’s palm hopefully. The hero’s breath hitches, their arm tense in the villain’s hold.

“Calm down,” the villain says, not unkindly. “He likes you, see?”

The hero finally shifts their hand to give Tiny a halfhearted pet. He leans into it avidly, his tail thudding joyously against the floor again.

A smile tries to break on their face, their body finally relaxing slightly. They sink into relief a little too easily, leaning into the villain a bit more than the villain’s willing to admit they like.

“He’s softer than I thought he’d be,” the hero comments. Their voice has lost that tense edge, thankfully.

“He’s a good dog.” The villain sighs and Tiny huffs back. “He’s done a great job of keeping your lot out.”

The villain finally lets go of the hero’s wrist to let them give him a scratch under the chin. “Until me.”

“Yeah, well, you’re a very weird anomaly. He was probably wondering why you weren’t hightailing it out of here like everyone else.”

The hero hums thoughtfully. “He didn’t bite me.”

“I don’t teach him to bite; he’s just here to scare. Maiming people I don’t like is my job.”

The two of them fall back into silence for another moment, though this one isn’t long or uncomfortable. The villain simply watches the hero suck up to their one line of defence, their breath a lot more even than it was before.

“Speaking of maiming people,” the villain continues, “we should get to me kicking your ass at some point, shouldn’t we?”

The hero laughs brightly, and the villain tries not to feel too relieved at the sound. “Yeah, I suppose so.” They get to their feet, shaking the ache out of their limbs. “As long as you don’t use your attack dog as an unfair advantage.”

“I already told you, [Hero], he doesn’t do the biting” — The villain springs to their feet excitedly — “I do.”

#creative writing #writblr #writers on tumblr #writing #writing community #heroes and villains #hero x villain #request #and thank you for the request as always!! always love yalls ideas #sorry it took so long D: i was literally sat here googling phobias so i could find one that would give the most Cute Moments #funnily enough its hard to have a Cute Moment when youre sobbing on the ground because theres a spider or something

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yourdeepestfathoms · 2 months

Text

Various Perrine Headcanons

because i love that silly little moose

NOT a mother figure

In fact, due to the way she grew up, she’s extremely uncomfortable with being treated like one

She does take care of the others, but it’s not in a motherly way

She’s a big sibling to them, and that’s it

Anything more than that makes her very uncomfortable and uneasy

(Personally, I think of Clémmie as the Mom Friend of the group)

To bounce off of that, Kingsley once called her “mom” as a joke, and she got legitimately mad at him

He was like “🧍🏻what”

ANYWAY!

Perfectionist

Does most of the cooking in the group

Doesn’t know how to ask for help, and she mostly shoves away concern

Tries to be the voice of reason, but she’s a total hot-head and gets upset/mad easily

Kingsley loves to poke that bear (moose)

Scared of storms but would rather die than tell anyone that

Likes collecting animal skulls (she names all of them)

The other kids will sleep in her room sometimes, but every time she goes to their room for the same comfort, she stops short and returns to her room, unable to actually ask

She takes being the oldest way too seriously

By that I mean she uses it as an excuse to never let anyone help her or take care of her

She’s trying to get better about that, but it’s hard

Soooooo emotionally constipated oh my god

Sometimes hears humming out in the woods, but she never heeds its call

Also sometimes thinks she sees a looming figure of something tall in the trees surrounding the cottage, but she does the smart thing and closes the curtains

WOULD survive a horror movie tbh

Will fight for the other kids

Cold hands

Very tender-headed

Covers her mouth when she laughs

Really fast and quick on her feet (she’s terrifying at Tag. it’s like being chased by an actual moose) (similarly, she never gets caught at Tag)

Also really good at climbing trees

Now getting down is a different story

Once fell out of a tree, breaking at least three branches underneath her on the way down, and the others actually thought she fucking died

She had this GIANT bruise striped across her stomach for WEEKS, as well as MANY broken ribs, and Cole was so worried because they thought she might have some internal bleeding, too

But she was FINE!

Doesn’t trust doctors (or whatever the whimsy forest version of a doctor is) (physician?)

Not above biting

Doesn’t like when things get too close to her face

Loves when people play with her hair, but she’d rather die than tell anyone that

Will remind Cole to drink water when they’re hyperfocused on writing, then not drink water herself all day

Bites her nails down to the quicks

Gets mad when people mistake her mask for a deer

#she reminds me of amicia from a plague tale #if anyone has played that game you’ll understand #i’ve seen a lot of people call her a mother figure #but if you look at what’s been revealed about her backstory #i think she Would Not be comfortable in that role #there’s a very big difference between a mother figure and a big sister figure #just because perrine is the oldest and physically the most feminine does not denote her to the role of ‘mother figure’#but that’s just me!#yaelokre #meadowlark #the lark #perrine yaelokre #yaelokre headcanons

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bowieandqueen11 · 1 year

Text

Leon Kennedy Being Protective Would Include...

Request: Hi there!! I saw you were open for Resident Evil requests, and I was wondering if I could request some angry headcanons of Leon being protective of an injured reader maybe?

Sure my lovely! I can't wait to see Death Island, I've missed seeing Chris and Jill together ;3

It's been a little while since I've written so forgive me if this is a jumbled mess, I'm trying :')

Warning: very very slightly spicy! Mentions of injury/blood and a little strong language!

(I do not own Resident Evil or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @halfwayriight.)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°

I hope y'all don't mind I write for RE4 Leon because PHEW this man just keeps getting finer and finer please-

Being sent to rescue the President's daughter in a remote rural Spanish village wasn't exactly how you figured the few weeks after yours and Leon's engagement would go, but considering your track record you probably should have seen it coming. Ever since the two of you survived the horrifying events of Raccoon City nearly seven years ago, Leon had refused to leave your side for a moment. Wanted to run out and grab groceries while Leon had finally, after hours and hours of arduous training had crashed out on the couch? Too bad! The blanket you had tucked around his waist is soon flung to the floor, a sixth sense ringing in the back of his head that you were leaving, and soon you can hear the soft patter of his socks as he runs to pull his trainers on and follow out the door after you. Krauser wanted to match the two of you up with separate trainees during your sparring matches? Too bad! Leon mutters and argues with him in the corner of the training ground until he swings with a big grin over to you, using the session as an excuse to try and pin you to the wall, or the ground as often as he good, his thick bicep wrapping around the arch of your back until you were trapped impossibly close to his panting mouth.

I mean, he is a giant dork so be ready for a terrible, absolutely cheesy beyond belief one liner. His breath glances behind the shell of your ear as you try to squirm out of his grasp, but his bicep flexes tightly in time, keeping you squarely pressed up against his abdomen. The tip of his knife clashes against your own, propelling you backwards and only further into his eager hands. You should see his face: despite how hard and soul destroying he finds the agent training, the look of absolute delight that crinkles in the corners of his eyes and raises the edges of his usually sullen lips could rival the ferocity of the sun. That's the effect you have on him: enough to bring weaker men to their knees. Enough that he would travel through hell for eternity, relieve the nightmares he wakes up mewling from each night, if only to feel your heartbeat pressed up against his flushed skin.

'Well beautiful, looks like you're caught between a knife and a hard place.'

Although he moves with you, you can feel a slight bulge begin to form in his cargo pants anytime your hips pulse back against his own. 'And you, Rookie', you murmur out, enjoying the way his stomach seems to warm against you at the words: the way you can feel his heartrate spike. 'Should stop moving your mouth and instead look at your feet.'

His eyes widen in surprised horror as you use the heel of your right boot to kick out his feet from beneath him, legs flying up in the air as you use your weight to knock him onto the matt behind his ass. You can't help but bust out laughing at the way he lands on his back like a little bug, holding out a hand to help him back up. You should have known that wasn't going to happen from the shit eating grin that stormed across his face as soon as his fingers grasped against your own, but when you face planted into his neck, your legs bracing themselves by landing tightly around his thighs, neither of you were complaining. Well, until Krauser gave you both clean up duty for messing around, but it was well worth it.

As you're piling away stocks of boot knives back into their correct storage cases, you feel the soft bump of Leon's hip hit against your own; despite being berated in front of all your fellow agents, he was still glowing. You sigh, hitting the back of his shoulder. 'I must really love you, you know that?'

His face whips around, mouth dropping open in mild shock as he blinks at you. 'That reminds me, I haven't told you I love you today!'

'Leon, you did at breakfast, in the canteen remember? And in the changing room. And when I left to use the bathroom', you start to count on your fingers, ignoring Leon who's trying to pull at your hands and tug your attention back to him. 'And when we started clearing up!' He just ducks between your arms, starting to chuckle as he reaches up and presses a kiss to your forehead.

'Well, I still do love you. More than anything.'

When the two of you had received the orders for your current mission, Leon was more than relieved to be coming as your partner. It also meant, though, that during the whole drive up the rickety country lanes, your tired stupors gazing out at the knobbly branches and half-dead roots of the surrounding countryside were disturbed by your fiancée constantly checking up on you. I mean, for the last hour you could find his eyes burning blazing holes into the side of your face, he spent every moment he wasn't flicking through the case files glancing at you behind bowed, wispy eyelashes. It was a continuous thing: catching his reflection admiring you as his irises rolled over your face before back down to his lap with a hoarse cough.

From time to time, when the Spanish police offers here to 'help' and 'accompany you' and 'give you anything you need' in your rescue of Ashley distract him with their hunched together heads and incessant whispering, you'll find him reaching over with a soft exhale to grab the edges of your fingers. He finds it grounding, comforting, to absentmindedly latch onto your hand and fiddle with the engagement ring on your finger; half the time he doesn't even realise you're doing it until he turns to you with surprised eyes, feeling you give his knuckles a reassuring squeeze. You're more than happy to share the adoring smile he bashfully sends your way, sliding his hand into your lap and rubbing your pointer finger tenderly over the scars on his palm.

When the two of you are attacked after a tumultuous journey to the main square of the village, you can barely side step the chickens clucking between your feet before Leon's jumped in front of you like a flailing shield. With arms spread wide like a flapping bird and a torso stiff enough you're surprised the hatchets don't just bounce off his pecs, he matches your every step like a shadows sewed onto your toes. It's almost like watching acrobatics, or more likely a circus act as you try your best to aim past Leon's head while he simultaneously uses his knife to stop a pitchfork from slamming into the side of your head. He's constantly dragging you over the shattered glass of window edges, kicking down ladders and pushing you behind him as he swoops his head out of the way of the oncoming chainsaw. Or worse, he uses his own body as a shield when the two of you have to jump off the roof of a hut you had become very conveniently stuck on, tucking you into his chest like a koala bear and rolling the two of you safely to a stop in a very stinky puddle of mud. He refuses to let you go until the Church bells stop ringing, and only then because he's nearly suffocating you with how tightly his arms are squeezed around your head.

On the lake, Leon is more than willing to let himself drown if it means saving you. When Del Lago tips over your rickety little raft, sending the two of you tumbling down into the imperceptible depths with a loud crash, alarm bells immediately start ringing in Leon's ears. He's not entirely sure if it's the shock of the freezing cold waves, or the way his whole body is nearly convulsing, doubled over in wracking shivers as he swims down into the deep to try and find you, but he manages in just the nick of time to grab onto your wrist and pull you out of the way of a set of mammoth gnashing teeth. He clumsily places his palms flat against the bottom of your ass, and nearly knocks the breath out of himself with how harshly he shoves you back into the boat in one fell swoop; so forcefully, in fact, that he nearly sends you ass over heels tumbling over the other side again. Your surprise is short lived, though, when you grab onto the edge of the rocking wood and peer over to see the fringes of Leon's hair floating almost serenely on the water's edge as he's dragged under.

Once you manage to haul him back up, you grit your teeth as he lands unceremoniously on your lap and clambers into a sitting position. Although he's trying his best to look calm, you can tell by the way he winces his head when you touch his knee that he's injured: the droplets of crimson that adorn your fingertips like the ink of a bleeding heart only consolidates the fact. You do your best to staunch it with your hand, reaching behind you with the other to try and steer the rudder over into the dock of a half collapsed-roof shelter, only to be distracted by the weight of Leon's torso resting against your heart. He literally does not give two shits about the fact that there's a pool of watery blood thrumming in time to the engine's hum as you drive forward, too busy cupping your cheeks with those fervent, gloved hands. His eyes are so wild, and oh so terrified as he checks you over, tilting your chin this way and that way as if to reassure himself. He's beginning to blink rapidly: an early sign that the trauma of your shared past is flooding into the locked away crevices of his head, and he's starting to panic.

His mouth blubbers open and shut, eyes falling sternly as he tries to stop himself from crumbling. As his shaking thumbs wipe some damp hair away from your eyes. As he stares deep into your eyes, the crying rookie you knew years ago locked behind his marred gaze. As his bottom lip trembles, like a man who nearly just lost everything... again.

'Are you alright?', he finally manages to choke out, as if the words are poison seeping out from the corners of his lips. He's terrified to say them: to know the answer, and yet he swallows thickly and repeats the question. 'Are you okay? Tell me your alright. Please.'

'Leon, sweetheart, I need to get the gauze out of my pack to try and stop your leg from falling off', you huff out with an exasperated light-heartedness, trying to make your fiancée smile again. Or in the least, loosen his grip on your cheeks so he didn't leave bruises. You knew what he was doing: back when the two of you were trapped within the enclosing walls of the Raccoon City Police Department, any time the two of you were separated, it would be the first question out of his mouth. His feet barely had time to stop themselves sliding across the floor, the hard material of his body armour nearly slamming into your chest as he wildly asked you. 'Are you alright?' Any time a licker grabbed at your ankle, any time an infected civilian pounced out of an unilluminated doorway to sink their teeth into the sweet flesh of your neck, as soon as the gunshot had finished reverbing through your head it would be the next thing you would hear.

'Are you okay?'

These days, the question usually fell into the night: a broken cry through the imposing isolation of twilight. When he would shoot up in bed, nearly scaring the wits end out of you until you realised what was going on. Glancing out into the dim shadows, you would blink languidly as Leon's hunched back, the juttering of the mattress quickly alerting you to the fact that he had his head tucked down into his hands, his hunched back tense as he cried. As you would sit up to rub at his back and guide him back down to bed, to rest his head down on top of you, his hands would scramble desperately until they reached yours. His bloodshot eyes were enough to send a jolt of fear spiking through your heart as his mouth fell open in heart-wrenching sob. 'Are you alright - are you alright? Are you real?'

It was almost enough to break you.

'Please, Y/n. I need to hear you say it.' Your drawn out of your thoughts by the feel of something damp landing on your fingertips. Leon was doing nothing to wipe them away, and so you finally relent and glance your eyes up to him. Soggy, shivering, a frown horrid enough to drive the devil out of hell, and wet eyes shining like fresh dew, the man arched before you was an enigma of multitudes. You could spot that frightened young boy in him, the one who had flushed crimson any time you had offered him his hand back at Raccoon City, lost somewhere within the hardened lines of the agent he had been berated to become.

You do the only thing in that moment the cogs in your brain can process: you pull him in for a hug. He falls easily against you, weightily, and you notice that he's not holding anything back as he rests the jut of his chin on your shoulder. He lets his hands fall until they're enclosed beneath the brackets of your arms, trying to squeeze his eyes shut and stop himself from whining when he feels the soft shapes you begin tracing over the wide expanse of his damp back.

And then you pass out? And Leon realises that you're infected too? That fear, that anguish he held in his heart suddenly revolved into fresh fury that coursed through every vein in his body. For a moment, as a cold shiver rolling through your tired body wakes you up, you can't figure out for the life of you where you are. Splintered wood seems to be scraping against the back of your legs, your hazy mind nearly lulled back to sleep by the sound of water gently lapping against the edge of the planks. It's only when you feel your head shift that you realise you're lying on Leon's thighs, whose looking down at you like the most heavenly cherub you've ever seen. He's biting his bottom lip, obviously conflicted, until he notices your awake and suddenly you're being tugged up as if you're a ragdoll. Before you can even say anything, Leon's pressing a dozen little pouty lipped kisses against every free inch of your face: drawing his bottom lip quickly over every line of cells that only a couple of minutes ago were tainted black with tendrils.

From then on, he tries not to show it. He tries not to belittle you, knowing you're as fully trained and even more competent than he is, but you're not stupid. You know Leon far too well, far too intimately, far too familiarly and easily for that. You notice the extra little touches here and there: a tighter grip by your hip bone when he gives you a lift up onto ledges, a clenched fist on your shoulder as he goes first through unlatched gates, magnum drawn at the ready as he points the red laser sight down into the cavernous mounds above the fish farm. The swifter, more intense glances whenever he notices you squeezing your fists shut, fingernails digging in and drawing blood as you try to stop the Plagas from burning up your forearm.

It's not until you reach the Castle's drawbridge that Leon's fury really starts to become physically visible. Even though Salazar had only been monitoring the two of you for a couple of hours, he was sharp enough to realise that Leon would raze the whole crumbling heap of a place to the ground if it meant keeping you safe. So what does he do? Clouds your mind, makes you a passenger to your own actions. As soon as your boot lands on the rubbled stones of the courtyard, Leon's swooping his head back as the point of your knife comes dashing towards his face, slicing a thin line across his eyebrow. He doesn't even blink as he races over to grab your arm, trying to pull you back against him as he had all those times in training, only to be met by your wicked grin. He was too slow: just out of reach as his gloved hand reaches out and shudders in horror as he watches you jam the tip of your knife into the soft skin of your side.

The wound is shallow, but it's enough to knock you out for the count. And for the rest of his life, Leon will spend every moment of every day blaming himself for it.

This man 100% gives you a piggyback, running like a wild mare through the bowels of the castle's barracks. He doesn't even seem to notice that a giant ass ogre is throwing huge boulders at his face, not even seeming to care as he leverages the full force of his body to kick out and send another hooded cultist tumbling over into the unfathomable abyss below. He doesn't even break a sweat as he uses his elbow to break the weight holding down the cannon, gripping onto the back of your thighs with clawing fingernails, as if he were trying to crawl into you, or die trying.

Once he's sure the two of you are safely within the Castle walls, he finally manages to catch Luis on his comms. Although you can't hear what he's saying, his knife edged tone cuts through the air as he mutters angrily, his shoulders hunched and tense. You piece together from where you're writhing in pain against the wall that he's 'persuading' Luis in a mildly threatening manner to meet the two of you in the cellars instead of the ballroom.

Luis steps back in surprise when he sees the two of you, not prepared to find Leon holding the agent that had nearly knocked him ass over heels a few hours ago being held bridle style in the man's arms. Leon refuses to let Luis carry you, and so the two finally compromise by you staying tight against Leon's chest, and Luis leading the two of you into a safer area deeper within the winding corridors of the ornate halls.

He surprisingly manages to lead the two of you into a tucked away little alcove by the main staircase with little trouble, beckoning Leon to place you down on one of the velvet chairs so he could clumsily try his best to patch you up. He keeps getting disturbed though, and you notice him getting more and more wound up by the way Leon peers over his jacket and watches his every movement like a buzzing wasp. You try to calm him down by reminding him that Ashley is the priority here, not you, but he just waves you off and crosses his arms with a grim frown. He turns instead to pace the eggshell carpet, distracting his mind by keeping watch.

You know he's worried. You know he's battling an unrooted anguish festering deep within his soul. That's been eating away at him for years. You know he's stressed, that he's sorrowful, that behind his tough exterior he spends his whole life feeling guilty. You know it reminds him of that day back in Raccoon City, when you had taken a bullet for him down in the sewers and he thought he had lost you for the first time. But you just couldn't find the right words the say. Couldn't find the right sentence to comfort him, to offer solace to his shuddered heart, to comfort the joyous kid you know he suffocates. To remind him that you're still here... and so is he. To force him to understand that everything that has happened to you, to him, none of it has been his fault. That he's a victim of circumstance, of it all, just as much as Ashley has been.

But why? Why oh why can't you tell him? Why can't you remind him of all the goodness that came after: how the threat of loss and the scent of death had been eclipsed, lulled into a type of serenity on that sterile cable car? When Leon had nearly jumped over the railings, just managing to slip through the closing doors in time to sit down on the bench next to you.

'You really think you can get rid of me that easily', he had murmured with a hoarse chuckle, but he looked like he was doing his best to choke back tears at the thought of you, thirty minutes ago on death's door, going down to face the dangers of the labs below. Thirty minutes ago, he had been on the brink of giving up as he had wrapped his gore stained jacket around your shoulder, and rushed headfirst into danger. He had been ready to let Mr. X to find him. To crush him. To end it all, at the thought of having to live without you.

He looked tired. God, he had looked so tired, as he awkwardly perched next to you. His lashes lazily blinked the tears back as he bashfully switched between checking his gun was loaded and fiddling with his fingers, unsure as how to start. Unsure as how to unload all the feelings that were stomping down on his chest, kicking up at his lungs and forcing a breathless exhale to leave him.

'You need to come with a warning sign you know, the amount of heart attacks you've nearly given me', he finally starts, mustering up the courage to glance his eyes sideways and look at you.

'Well, when we get out of here-'. He winces, and you grab tenderly onto the top of his hand. 'When we get out of here, I'll just- I'll have to make it up to you.' He smiles then, and you relish in the feeling.

'Oh yeah? How are you going to do that? 'Cause I was about to ask you out, but now you've done my job for me yet again I want to see what you've got planned.' You turn your head away and flush, and his heart swoons.

'How about... shakes and fries? I know a great place on 24th street-'. Before you can get your tangled mess of shaking words out, you're stopped by the pressure of Leon's plump lips gingerly pressing against your own. He pulls away quickly, bashfully nearly doubling in on himself like a tortoise retreating into its shell as he realises what he had impulsively done, chiding his body as his cheeks burn like lava. You watch him, mouth slightly agape but mind blank, and he thinks he's ruined everything until you lean forward and kiss him again.

You thump your head back against the crest that ran around the wall, wincing as you began to feel a headache snake around your temples. A final tug against the knotted bandage wrapped wonkily around your abdomen draws you out of the warm clutch of your daydream.

'You know', Luis starts with a smirk, and you can just tell he's about to teasingly cause trouble. 'Usually in the fairy tales, when the brave knight in shining armour helps the princess, he gets a kiss for his trouble.'

'You're about to get my foot in your mouth for your troubles', Leon growls out from where he's leaning against the banister.

'Thank you', you tell Luis seriously, giving his hand a tight squeeze as he removes it from your waist with a satisfied hum.

'This should hold until we get down to my lab. All my equipment should still be there, unless they've burned the place to the ground already, of course', he replies with a wink in your direction.

He could tell that Leon was growing more and more peevish, so Luis very astutely and very shrewdly decided to give the two of you some space. He tugs at your hand, pressing a final kiss against your knuckle before cocking his head and giving you a salute, spinning around on one heel. He swaggers off, using his shoulder to shove open one of the wing's doors, before peering in and allowing himself to be shrouded by the darkness within.

Leon won't even look at you. You can feel the self hatred literally seething off him like steam.

'You can't lose me that easily, you know?'

That makes him stop in his tracks. He slowly spins round, the frown hardening his face softening into a fond smile as he watches you struggle to a stand. You close the distance between the two of you, cupping his cheek and trying desperately to make him believe you. 'You won't lose me. You know how stubborn I am. I won't allow it.'

For the first time since the two of you had left your apartment a couple of days ago, Leon cracks a smile. You do the only thing you can do in that moment: you reach forward like he did all those years ago and kiss him, your mouth drawing over the salty tears beaded on his upper lip line. You pull away with a pop, and Leon looks at you with those puppy dog eyes, all the tenderness in the world pouring out from his heart and melting out of his pores as he grips onto your elbows.

'You promise?' His voice is harsh, but vulnerability trembles between the gaps of every word as he traces the stretch of skin where your engagement ring lies.

'Every minute of every day, Rookie. You know why? Because I love you more than anything.'

'Hey, that's my line!'

#resident evil #leon kennedy #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil imagine #leon kennedy headcanons #resident evil headcanons #leon s kennedy #leon scott kennedy #re #leon s kennedy imagine #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy headcanons

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critterbitter · 9 months

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What do you know- I'm trying out the askbox *eyes*

anyway I just wanted to say that high-key I think I'd follow any content you make at this point bc your art brings me so much joy. That doesn't tend to happen super often since i am,,,, very much so a hyperfixation-focused person HAHA

regardless I'm not exactly quiet about it but I adore your art and I look forward to each new time you post :D

I WISH i had the capability of pumping out art like you do bc man while I love to draw and have so many ideas all the time picking up the pencil is Hard Dude.

Also! In a recent post you mentioned the whole Twin Dragons AU and HC that people love to have- I'd be super curious as to your opinion on it!

-( ╹▽╹ )

I SEE YOUR TAGS AND IM.

I’ll have to slow down at some point on that Submas Grind, but the hyperfixation throes are REAL. Thank you for inhabiting the tunnels with me! People that tag and cheer artists on are the real mvps of the art economy.

As for twin dragon aus!

I’ve always seen Emmet as more zekrom esque, and Ingo more reshiram esque. Is it cause the typing matches their starters? Maybe, hehe.

Ultimately though, the guys are too multifaceted for me to easily split them into truth and ideals.

I also see the legendaries as Eldritch Abominations Beyond Understanding, so having the dragons in my iteration become the twins would, uh, have consequences. The funny goofy story would dip into horror territory instead. (Reshiram demands only truths, and anything not Absolute will burn. And zekrom’s ideals are beyond human understanding, and trying to understand the mad tangle of thunder would drive somebody insane.)

(I’m a huge tma fan. Can you see it? Man.)

((Also N’s a scary mofo for summoning reshiram. I’m digging directly into the whole “twin heroes have a civil war and it destroyed unova” backstory that pokemon set up, and the more I think about it the stronger my dread mounts at the idea of Zekrom OR Reshiram casually flying overhead.

But this is also just how I see the legendaries of the pokemon world! Lugia sinks islands. Groudon covers towns. Arceus loves the mortal world, and mourns because its immortality only brings grief. Giritina hates, because it’s the ghostly remains of every one of Arceus’s mistakes given drive, banished into the distortion realm. Normal stuff!)

You sly dog, you got me monologing! But here’s the tldr: Not sure i’ll ever make my own serious Dragon AU that follows my internal world building for pokemon. I’m too attached to my favorite trope: “the smallest people can still initiate the biggest of changes”, and I’m too attached to my other favorite trope: “legendaries are actually gods and you Should Be Frightened.”

So that’s why, in this essay, if the trio gets turned into pokemon, I’d make them route 1 run of the mill rats. Because rats can do whatever they want.

(Plus, patrats and pachirisu aren’t banned from the subway battles last I checked.)

If i had to make a goofy crack dragon au though, I think this would be the result:

The whole story would just be the trio and historians trying to figure out what the hell the twins got turned into, and concerns of other people becoming pokemon as well. So far, people are convinced they’re a paradox version of an archen. (I mean…)

(Alternate take of THAT, where elesa gets turned into a victini.)

#long rambling talk under cut!#click at your own peril #ask #mailbox #i have feelings for forces of nature that shape the pokemon workd #benevolent gods. apathetic gods. malicious gods…. mMMz #pokemon #guess this counts as submas!#submas #nimbasa trio #my two hot takes on the twin dragons au #critterbitter #critterbitter screams into the void #myart

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azure-firecracker · 3 months

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The X-Files Season 1 Review (First-Time Watcher)

(Any fans-please come talk to me about the show and send me asks-I’m obsessed!)

It did not take long for me to realize that this was going to become my newest hyperfixation show. It has everything I love in my shows-a strong focus on its main characters, campy sci-fi monsters mixed with some genuine creepiness, slow burn romance, banter. In short, it’s the perfect show for me. I was basically hooked right away.

Like all first seasons, it was pretty clear that the show was still finding its footing. There were some clunky bits to iron out and the show definitely found its vibe more and more as it went along. I would say it began getting overall more consistent around episode 10 (with individual exceptions before and after that).

In terms of episodes, I enjoyed almost all the episodes of this season even though I would only call a couple stellar. Most episodes were fun or at least had fun moments, and the banter between Mulder and Scully (what’s their ship name?) is enough to keep me going through even the clunkiest and cringiest plots.

Speaking of Mulder and Scully, it’s rare that a show can make me love two characters so equally but I really do. Although Scully is much more in line with my usual favorite characters (she is my special girl and I will do anything for her), I also have a special place in my heart for Mulder’s neurodivergent traumatized puppy energy. Of course they really go together so it’s natural that I love them both.

The only weighty criticism I have for this season is that I feel Mulder gets more spotlight moments than Scully. Not egregiously, but it feels like he’s usually the one in the final fight, seeing the aliens, figuring it out, etc. I do know that they were trying to break gender roles by making Scully the skeptic, but given that the aliens are so real…here at least she often came off as oblivious and she sometimes felt like she was tagging along on Mulder’s quests. Which SUCKS! Because I LOVE HER and she could be SO USEFUL if the writers LET HER. This is why I really loved the moments where she got to step up. Veteran viewers…want to tell me if this gets better?

That criticism aside, I could watch these two fight monsters for days, and I know the S2-S5/6 stretch is considered the show’s best, so I’m looking forward to that.

Individual episode reviews under the cut.

Pilot: Fantastic introduction! It did a great job establishing the characters and their dynamic pretty seamlessly, as well as introducing the alien lore in a way that we could digest. It wasn’t perfect and the story was a bit clunky at times, but it got me hooked and did its job well. I also liked Scully being the audience surrogate here. 8/10

Deep Throat: This episode really solidified the dynamic introduced in the pilot, and is packed with great character moments. It gets a HUGE boost from Scully exchanging the guard to rescue Mulder at the end. I mentioned living for the moments when Scully gets to step up, but I think it was necessary to put this moment so early. Because Scully is new to the X-Files and also clearly wrong about aliens, it was necessary to show us that she had a lot to bring to the table and that Mulder needs her. Also a special shoutout to Seth Green as a stoner. 9.5/10

Squeeze: A very fun monster of the week episode, slightly reminiscent of BtVS. Decently creepy with that 90s horror/sci-fi vibe we all love. Plus lots of great Mulder/Scully moments. (Also, despite my complaints about Scully being underutilized, I enjoyed Mulder saving Scully at the end. Rescuing one another from mortal peril is actually my favorite trope, as long as it’s balanced. In that regard, this season has been). 8/10

Conduit: Honestly this episode was a little slow for me, I felt like the pacing could have been better. I had a hard time staying interested. Also it was hilarious that this was supposed to be Iowa because Iowa does not have mountains like that. It gets a boost from the ending scene which in itself is a 100/10. 6/10

The Jersey Devil: Now this is campier and goofier than suits the show, and I feel like they realized that soon after this. The Mulder/Scully banter still made this a good time, but it wasn’t great. Also not helped by the fact that everything happened during the day (the only time in this show where the lighting was too bright) and the Jersey Devil looked like a normal person with some dust on her. 6/10

Shadows: I found the mystery of this one quite engaging. Back with those 90s horror vibes we love, and it kept me guessing right up until the agents figured it out. Negative points for the lack of Mulder/Scully banter though. 7/10

Ghost in the Machine: Was this cheesy? Yes. Was it objectively good? No. Did I enjoy it anyway? Yes. Who doesn’t love a killer computer? Also Scully crawling out of the vents was badass af. Objectively like a 6/10 but 7/10 for my personal enjoyment.

Ice: Now THIS was the stuff. An objectively great episode of television. The tension, the paranoia, the fallout, seeing what our leads do under that kind of stress…brilliant. (Although my dad the geologist couldn’t help but point out that there is no ice sheet in Alaska). Very tempted to write an alternate version where Mulder actually is infected and Scully has to find a cure before the others kill him. That would’ve been interesting. Anyway 10/10

Space: Apparently people don’t like this episode but I enjoyed it. It had a ticking time bomb feel that I quite enjoyed. Also Mulder’s space nerdiness was adorable. 8/10

Fallen Angel: Similar to Conduit, this episode felt rather slow to me despite the fact that there was a lot happening. It just sort of failed to hook me, which is a rarity for this show. 6/10

Eve: This was FUN! I love when we get to unravel the mystery along with the agents and the plot twists definitely kept me guessing. Props to the child actors who did a great job. I did get thrown off by the many parallels to Stranger Things-even though this obviously came out first. 8/10

Fire: Once I got over my anger at sharing a name with Mulder’s horrendous ex, I liked this one. Both Mulder and Scully got good character moments here, with Mulder trying to shield Scully from all his drama and also showing one of his flaws-he’s susceptible to manipulation. Scully, conversely, was really the MVP of this episode and carried the investigation on her back. Also props to our bad guy of the week-great job being creepy! 7.5/10

Beyond the Sea: Immaculate. Probably my favorite episode of the season. Scully burying her grief in work and Mulder being gentler with her than he’s ever been. Scully’s family lore reveal. Both of them going toe to toe with this killer (forgot his name) and not knowing what to believe. Mulder getting shot and Scully getting FURIOUS. Scully’s complicated relationship forming with this killer while she also thinks about her father (rather reminiscent of Silence of the Lambs). Cinema. 10/10

Genderbender: So we have gender switching aliens who kill people…I’ll give the show overall a pass since it’s 1994 but I will not be revisiting this one. Extra points for Mulder yelling GET OFF OF HER at the guy who’s working his weird magic on Scully. Minus points for him blaming her for it after. 2.5/10

Lazarus: So we got panicked Scully 2 episodes ago and now we get panicked Mulder and it is GLORIOUS. I also found all 3 side characters-Scully’s ex as well as both criminals, interesting, especially as Scully’s ex began to mix with the bad guy. Minus points for not shooting the bank robber until after he started shooting up a room full of civilians, extra points for Mulder being great this entire episode. 9/10

Young at Heart: Episodes with creepy killers are always my favorite, and I loved seeing Mulder get toyed with. Reverse aging science…eh it’s not the main point. Minus points for the worst plan ever (let’s invite the killer into a crowded area and let him shoot at Scully even though apparently her bulletproof vest barely saved her), but extra points for Mulder angst. This man has so much guilt. 9/10

E.B.E: Honestly the plot of this one wasn’t super interesting but that’s not what we’re here for is it? Every Mulder and Deep Throat interaction? Perfect. Scully’s little « the truth is out there, but so are lies » speech? Immaculate. The ending where Deep Throat reveals his backstory and Mulder says « I’m trying to decide which lie to believe? » Cinema. 9.5/10

Miracle Man: A bit of a letdown after such a strong streak, but still solid. Pretty good! And I admired that they had the guts to kill the kid too. 6.5/10

Shapes: Another fun 90s horror episode, HEAVY on the BtVS vibes. And it actually dealt with all of the Native American issues better than I thought it would! Not necessarily well in every aspect, but I was expecting much worse considering Genderbender. 7.5/10

Darkness Falls: Y’all this was GOOD! I loved the sense of impending doom that was just present the whole time, and the melancholic feel of the entire thing. Minus points for the anti-environmentalist sentiments and for the blatant plot armor at the end (they really should have died…but then there wouldn’t be a show). 9/10

Tooms: While Tooms being let out on parole was a bit of a stretch, I enjoyed seeing Mulder stretched to his limit. He’s a good character to do that with. Tooms was an even better villain here than in Squeeze imo, because his craftiness really got to shine through. Huge bonus points for the scene in the car. « Mulder, I wouldn’t put myself on the line for anybody but you. » I’M DEAD. 8.5/10

Born Again: The most memorable parts of this episode for me were the thick fake New York accents and the fact that the kid was named Michelle so I kept quoting Derry Girls in my terrible fake Derry accent the whole time. 5/10

Roland: This was the only episode I hated. I could barely get through any Roland scenes-I thought the autism portrayal was clunky and unnecessary and I just don’t want to watch autistic people suffer. It pained me. There wasn’t even any Mulder/Scully banter to salvage it. In fact, it seemed they were barely in the episode at all. It gets half a point because Scully looked really pretty this episode. 0.5/10

The Erlenmeyer Flask: Now this was GOOD STUFF. I feel like since we know the aliens are there and there’s less mystery, alien-focused episodes so far have been slower and I’ve liked them less but THIS kept the pace up and the mystery going throughout. I was fully hooked. I was also WORRIED for Mulder at the end-I thought we were getting a season cliffhanger! And those chemical burns looked BAD. And I DID NOT expect Deep Throat to die OR for them to get shut down. Where the heck are they gonna go from here? I love it. My favorite thing about this episode was really getting back into Scully’s headspace for the last 10 minutes or so. With some exceptions, I feel like a lot of the season has been shown through Mulder’s eyes (part of my gripe from earlier), but the pilot was 100% Scully and circling back to her here felt right. I also liked that she had to do another hostage exchange-a parallel to the first time she really showed why Mulder needs her. So much to love here. 10/10

Idk how many txf fans I have here aside from my one post that made the rounds, but if you’re here congratulations for making it through my essay! Let me know if you’d like any more thoughts/analyses, and if you’d like shorter, episodic posts when it comes time for Season 2:)

#the x files #x files #txf #txf s1 #fox mulder #dana scully #mulder and scully #mulder x scully #msr #david duchovny #gillian anderson #azure txf reviews

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unseemingowl · 5 months

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Saga Anderson, and Nordic rep in Alan Wake 2

Early on in Saga Anderson’s exploration in Alan Wake 2, she runs into Ilmo Koskela. Fiercely proud of his Finnish heritage, Ilmo gregariously makes note of Saga’s Nordic sounding name and the familiar design of her knitted sweater. Perhaps a fellow Finn?

Alas no, Saga’s mom is Swedish she informs him. Immediately Ilmo’s face falls. I’m not sure if it’s actually just the animated character defaulting to his resting face, but either way the timing is too perfect. Cue uproarious laughter from me. People in the Nordics are on friendly terms of course, but we gotta have the tiniest bit of… scornfor each other. All in good fun of course. It’s traditional.

Now, I’m Danish, not Finnish, but still, I feel right at home in the towns of Bright Falls and Watery in Alan Wake 2. All of the little nods to Nordic culture and mindset feel so wonderfully familiar to me. The melancholia, the irreverent sense of humor, the affection for the Finnish and Swedish quirks of the characters. The game feels all the stronger in tone and narrative for Remedy embracing the Finnish roots of the studio.

Which is exactly why it sucks that I almost immediately saw the charm of those narrative decisions weaponised against Saga.

I first watched the scene between Ilmo and Saga on a lets play when I was trying to figure out if I should finally dip my toes into survival horror and buy the game. Delighted by the writing I took a look into the comments to see if people were vibing as hard with it as I was. They were. But I also saw a comment that made me frown.

Paraphrasing, it basically went, come on, like hell a guy like Ilmo would make the assumption that a black woman is Finnish. There are a multitude of reasons why I think that person was wrong, mainly that Nordic people love it when we run into each other in other countries, but it also just made me sad.

Saga being black does not negate her Swedish heritage. Formally, she is American, sure (I assume, not sure how that works in the US), but she’s raised by her single Swedish mom, of course she’s going to identify heavily with that part of her herself. It’s a profound and essential part of who she is.

But hey, I’m a white potato Dane, so I’m not gonna argue that I know much about the experience of being biracial. I’m gonna stick to what I know, which is that Saga is a very moving and beautiful example of something that I’m actually not used to seeing much of - a story about connecting with your Nordic heritage and roots. And it’s part of why I love her so much.

When Nordic people show up in big, international productions, it’s usually as Vikings, and sure, it’s fun to see our wild ancestors, but contemporary questions of Nordic identity and heritage is not something I often see explored. Not even in our own productions.

So much of Saga’s story is about family. Fighting for her current one, Logan and Casey (and sure, David too, lol), and rediscovering her first one. Tor and Odin.

Her discovering her ties to Tor and Odin is profoundly moving and made me teary-eyed several times over. And sure, a lot of those ties are fantastical in nature, but they still feel very much grounded - and what makes us Nordic if not the ties to our myths and legends that Tor and Odin have made themselves the living avatars of.

While Saga’s mom, Freya, had good reasons for leaving the Anderson seer magics behind, seeing them as part of what made her family fucked up, she also cut Saga off from the fullness of her capabilities. It is only through Saga reforming her family, healing its scars and fully embracing the Anderson heritage that she becomes as powerful a parautilitarian as she is at the end of the game. That’s beautiful.

And in fact I think Saga being black only deepens the richness of those themes rather than negate them or make them irrelevant. Because yes, Saga’s story would have been moving if she was a white character too, but I am very well aware that a lot of biracial people of Nordic ancestry can feel alienated from that part of themselves. Not least because questions of who gets to claim a Nordic heritage can get pretty ugly around here. There are most definitely people who share the racist mindset of that commentator. It adds an extra dimension. Which is why seeing Tor and Odin’s eagerness to claim Saga as part of the Anderson heritage is all the more moving. Through her magics, she’s just so obviously an Anderson, and they’re so damn proud to call her theirs and fight alongside her. Because they all got that wild Viking blood in them. They’re part of her and she’s part of them.

Roger Ebert, the film critic once called movies empathy machines. I think games, when they’re at their best, can be an even more intense variation of that. Which is exactly why it baffles me that some people can play through Alan Wake 2 and still think Saga is a stunt-woke character rather than someone fully and beautifully integrated in the narrative. A narrative which, at its most basic level – in my opinion – is about the mystical bonds we form with each other and the rest of the world through art and love and blood and family and heritage. All the great horror doesn’t negate that either, it amplifies it. Kind of like that clicker.

#I really didn’t mean to write like… a fucking essay #so this is probably gonna flop #but I love Saga so much #and as a Scandinavian woman #I feel so seen by her #and I hate that people are being so vile about her character #Saga Anderson #Alan Wake 2

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starry-bi-sky · 10 days

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Thinking about Rath and how other ghosts react to him. Unlike Dan, who's ruthless and cruel, tormenting the other ghosts for no other reason than he could, Rath just wants his family back; and he HATES that you aren't his family. Do other ghosts realize that Rath is in a Banshee Grief Spiral? Do they care with how powerful he ends up being? How does CFAU!Danny deal with Rath? Because unlike Dan, Rath wouldn't travel back in time to bring about his own future. If anything, he'd go back to PROTECT his loved ones.

Also I loved your tags going into how Danny doesn't blame Bruce for his friends death, and why he's going to kill the Joker personally. It was a great read.

its hard not to tell that Rath is going through a Banshee Grief Spiral asdfjh. Any ghost who sees him can take one look and go: oh yeah, that kid is going THROUGH it. And then they beeline the other way because Banshees can be vicious when they're Going Through The Horrors, because their perception of reality and the world around them gets warped by their grief. And the thing with the CFAU brand of Banshees is that they do eventually learn how to get themselves out of their own Spirals. It's something they learn how to do over time and (somewhat) naturally, as well as make bonds with other ghosts who can also help them get out of those Spirals if the banshee themself cannot for some reason or another.

Basically they build up their own support system and learn how to regulate their grief so it's not consuming them. Rath had that support system... in Sam, Tucker, Jazz, and his parents (albeit they didn't know he was a banshee). And finding Jason again helped soothe some of that grief -- not all of it, mind you, but it made it a little more manageable.

...And then it all got ripped away from him in the span of a week. 😬 yikes. Rath was going through a Spiral while he was with Vlad, and was desperately (and somewhat failing) to manage it all on his own. Vlad could've become a part of his new support system,... but didn't. He wasn't helping Danny with his grief. And the whole "ripping out his ghost half thing" only made it worse, and was a tipping point for poor Rath.

Another thing about CFAU Banshees is that human-born banshees tend to already be pretty... rare all on their own. Most Banshees are formed in the Zone, by the Zone, from the Zone. They're pre-programmed to learn how to handle that all-consuming grief and sorrow because it's something they're born with. Like someone born with chronic pain. Human-born banshees have to adjust, and it can be pretty... maddening all on its own. Which is where the support system can help a lot.

Where was I going with this beyond just info-dumping about CFAU Banshees? Ah, right. Absolutely the other ghosts care about Rath being in a grief spiral considering how powerful he is. But there's very little they can actually do about it, other than be relieved that he's left the Zone (he left when he couldn't find his family), and was out terrorizing the living realm instead. It's difficult to get close to Rath even if you're a ghost, and he's not going to listen to anything they say regardless.

They'd be very terrified of Danny until they realize that he's not Rath -- and they'd be able to tell pretty quickly after the initial terror passes. Phantom looks like,,, well; Phantom. Rath looks like a cross from Danny's childhood in Gotham (oversized, ragged clothes hanging off a small, malnourished child) and Sadako Yamamura from The Ring (uneasy, shambling presence, face mostly covered by his hair.) Rath's Future is an Apocalypse much like how The Quiet Place is an Apocalypse. Very quiet.

And I haven't quite figured out how CFAU!Danny deals with Rath, although you are right in that Rath would try and prevent his future and protect his loved ones. ...If he was lucid.

The version of Rath that Danny meets has very little grasp on reality due to years of unchecked grief. I'm not even sure myself if Rath would be able to recognize Sam and Tucker and his family. Any living versions he may come across are either hallucinations or, even worse, imposters. And he'll attempt to attack either for their deception.

And even if he could recognize his family as alive and as him being in the past, he's still so mentally unstable that Rath would lash out at anyone if he perceived a threat against his family, or if he believed they were putting themselves in danger. He'd be very possessive and controlling, preventing them from going anywhere that wasn't under his careful watch. Anyone trying to get them away from him, he'd attack without mercy.

Ultimately, Danny would need to quickly stun Rath long enough to trap him in the thermos, before he can do any more damage. Only then can Rath's healing actually begin.

Also ty! I'm glad you liked my tags about Danny's feelings about Bruce and his motives behind killing the Joker. I thought it'd be a fun compare-contrast between Jason and Danny, as well as a good signifier for how much has changed between them both in the last five years.

#danny fenton is not the ghost king #dpxdc #dpxdc crossover #childhood friends au #cfau #cfau danny #despite everything. murder is murder and danny did genuinely have to sit down and think about whether or not he actually wanted to go #through with murdering the joker. or if it was his own rage and grief talking. his encounter with rath forced him to stop and reflect.#'is this something i want and/or am capable of doing. or is it blind rage talking? when it comes down to it can i take a life?'#rath is one of my favorite changes to this au even if he never makes an appearance <3 what a horrifying little bugger.

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ghcstao3 · 1 year

Note

I saw your tags, you have challenged me!

Scary Show AU (cw for cannibalism and murder)

Ghost is a very well-known yet still semi-anonymous Voice Actor for spooky shit. There's a huge following for him because, regardless of what role he's playing, he does a phenomenal job. He's only listed in the cast list as "S.R.Ghost"

Typically he plays the role of the creatures in this super popular show called "Cryptid Season" which follows a gang of college kids desperate for extra credit in their Biology class so they hunt cryptids as evidence/to study for their papers. He does the voice over and some of the motion capture (he's a big dude) for the monsters and such, his most famous one being "Goatman" (from the demonic Goatman's bridge in I think Texas?)

Meanwhile Soap is this animator who's starting to become really popular, and he announces a new show in the work: "Consume", where he voices one of the two lead roles. It's presented as a show about a normal, if not very lonely man, being tormented by a demonic presence in his home.

Plot twist: dude's actually a cannibalistic serial killer and ends up quickly befriending the demon. The demon helps make the man harder to track by police forces in exchange for the bones and souls of his victims.

Cast:

Soap as the killer

Ghost as the demonic entity

Gaz as a detective who's new to the case but also best friends with Soap's character

Price voices the seasoned detective who's been working this case "too damn long"

Ghost and Soap ABSOLUTELY fall in love while recording scenes together. The banter, the flirting, the sexy scenario of cutting up a corpse together; it's too much not to fall in love irl

(actually such a big brain idea but I don't know how you'd write it tbh lmao. Maybe the show itself, where the boys keep their names? Idk the original idea turned into something much greater)

took a minute to figure something out i'm ngl but i did. something (in any case i would love to see your proper takes(s) if you'd be up to it, seeing as it's your idea!! i feel like i couldn’t do it justice)

Just like any other actor, Ghost had to audition for the role.

His agent books it for him without consultation, knowing the project would be right up his alley—horror, monsters, no face required—and Ghost makes no argument in sending in his tape. He recognizes this process and takes no issue with it, and once out of his hands, he waits patiently for a congratulatory offer or a gentle rejection.

Just like any other movie, or show, or what have you. Consume is no different.

Supposedly. At first.

John "Soap" MacTavish is... many things. He's charming, according to most. Talented. A joy to be around. A man who wears more than several hats of a project, which certainly tells of someone trying to worm their way into the commercial industry.

He has the spirit and creativity, Ghost will allow him that. But he also doesn't know when to stop talking as soon as the important work is done.

Is Soap professional? Sure. Does Soap make sure all jobs are done with efficiency and done well? Yes, he does. Does it make him any less of a nuisance to Ghost? Absolutely not.

But Ghost would be damned if the project doesn’t find its way into his soft spots, despite its nature. He’d be damned if he doesn’t fall in love with Soap’s animations and the hard work and craft he puts into them.

Then he blinks, and the pilot is premiering. It does well (again, considering its content), and Consume is properly green-lit.

Which is when Soap proposes the idea of recording their lines in the same room. Together. Facing one another. Because banter, and chemistry, and whatever other reasons he insists upon.

Personally, Ghost wants to decline. He’s always felt somewhat awkward when recording as such with anyone, but professionally? He couldn’t really say no, could he?

And it is awkward, at first. There’s more takes than usual, and Ghost can sense Soap’s frustration, though the man never expresses it. He just plasters on a tight smile, calls for a break, and pulls Ghost aside.

Surely, surely this is where Ghost gets fired. This is where Ghost is told he’s going to be replaced, where he’s told to say goodbye to Gaz and Price and wish them luck, and move onto his next gig. This is where—

“Have I done something wrong?”

Soap’s face is so earnest. So painfully sincere.

Ghost clenches his jaw. Shakes his head.

“No, I—“ He sighs. “Just have to get used to the… face-to-face. Let’s—I’ll try again.”

Soap smiles wider, now, as he nods, something kind and warm and brilliant.

The second try goes much smoother. Ghost takes a deep breath and eases himself into scripted dialogue, into witty banter and subtle flirts like it’s any other project.

They continue to record lines as such, just the two of them, each episode at a time. At some point, Ghost worries, the line between script and show and reality gets blurred. At some point, he fears, that flirting becomes genuine.

And what would he know—the reviews only get better as that line becomes less and less clear. Natural, real-feeling dialogue, critics say. The relationship is authentic, claim viewers.

The love is actually heartfelt.

And fuck, if that doesn’t make Ghost realize a few things about himself.

About Soap.

Consume is no different, his ass. He might have to have a stern talk with his agent in the near future.

(Or not.)

#ask #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #ghost mw2 #soap mw2 #ghost x soap #ghoap #soapghost #ghostsoap #writing #alternate universe

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kit-williams · 3 months

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Here, I have a few "hear me out" character options for you. Lets see if any are too unfuckable for you or you at least find it entertaining XD

Here me out level: Very mild Ahzek Ahriman: kind of a douche but also really likes civilian remembrancers. Loves to fuck with warp magic and is also a repeat offender cannibal. yummy

Here me out level: Mild Argel Tal: (The best Word Bearer) Not a bad man pre heresy, and in a vision Lorgar has turns into a demon bug man. kinda hot ngl

Here me out level: medium Asterion Moloc: Chapter master of the Minotars. Kind of like Tyberos but worse also more brutally evil and paranoid. Is fucking massive, scarred and full of cybernetics.

Here me out level: hardish Eidolon: An Emperors children marine, like Fulgrim but even more of a narcissistic asshole. Gets corrupted in the heresy and is so much of a dick Fulgrim himself actually kills him. 8/10 would be his pet pre-heresy because post heresy he is dead 💀

Here me out level: ??? Mothman Mortarion: I would let that massive stinky man have whatever he wanted

Ahzek: 100% would DID NOT KNOW HE WAS A CANNIBAL I just love tragic magic boys who tried his best but like dad everything went wrong.

Argel Tal: 1000% WOULD both as normal and demon bug/abomination thing listen that vertical mouth could do things to me but yeah sometimes you just crave insect man sexual horror

Asterion Moloc: 50% would... I don't know enough about him or the Minotaurs much beyond just utterly ravaging the Lamenters. But Granted I could probably think up some sort of personality for him sexy enough to turn that 50% to 100% just like I've done with Tyberos.

Mothman Mortarion: Would and in my drafts am working on something for him

His mask had been removed for this occasion, bits of his flesh coming off with it, but ever the resilient one Mortarion hardly felt it as Isolde looked up in horror. The chittering insect like mouth mixed with a human one swirled and mashed together as he chittered down at her. His silvery wings fully spread, flicking in the light to catch her eyes as he preened and felt an excitement. Mortarion was intimate with the cycle of death and rebirth that Nurgle governed over and fecundity was a step in that cycle Mortarion walked past. He was content on being a creature that had lost it's life mate and warbled its never returned mating song.

There was an insanity that danced in Mortarions eyes as two smaller arms gripped and pulled on her clothes. They were in his section of the garden... away from the Grandfather's gaze and while it pained Mortarion physically and immaterially he would introduce his wife to Grandfather later... after intimacy was restored and pent up feelings were taken care of. His clothing and armor melted away off of his body...

Eidolon: I don't know much about him cept that he did get killed and might be alive? Unless someone else in lore is also... EITHER WAY

Emperor's children are always a hard sell for me idk how you can be more narcissistic than Fulgrim so yeah I just don't know enough about him to figure out if I even COULD write something about him.

So TL;DR: Everyone is would just Asterion Molec is someone I'd have to probably build up like Tyberos to make him work and Eidolon I don;t know enough about & him being an Emperor's Children makes him have an uphill battle for me to try and sexualize

#reply #answer #also surprise sneak peak about Mothtarion sex #Isolde is a perpetual don't worry #warhammer 40k #or I guess do worry about her #since she's Mortarion's secret wife #I just want to write more for that Lost in the Warp for Mortarion #but tiny night lord is being needy recently so it has been impossible to write anything longer than the blurbs #perhaps also this forced break is good for me too #who knows how close I was getting to a burn out #anyway I hope ya'll liked the sneak peak #mothtarion #mortarion #astarion molec #eidolon #Argel tal #ahzek ahriman

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starlitangels · 1 year

Text

Some Redacted Characters Playing Phasmophobia Headcanons

For any of y’all who don’t know, Phasmo is a kinda glitchy ghost-hunting horror game where ya gotta gather evidence to figure out what kind of ghost is haunting the “map” go watch someone play it, I think it’s hilarious

I’m not gonna play that game myself but I can watch others play it no problem

Shaw Pack

David straight faces through everything. Never sounds scared over the voice chat

Angel is laughing right next to him because he does have a death grip on their leg

Asher never turns his radio off so everyone can hear him at all times

Is also 100% fearless and knows all the background lore hints by heart

He still screams if he gets got by the ghost though

Milo. Yelps. At. Everything. And jumps

Like seriously if Asher puts something down too close to Milo, he will jump

Sweetheart is sitting nearby laughing their head off

Darlin’ plays with their mic muted unless absolutely necessary so their packmates don’t hear them yelp when something startles them

However they are also very efficient and ridiculously lucky when it comes to hiding and surviving hunts. Even better than Asher and he’s totally not bitter about it

That said Darlin’s not afraid to let the ghost get them in order to mess with the others by leading the ghost right to the boys

Milo’s totally not holding a grudge over it

The mates also have nights where they play together but Sam is kinda grumbly so his mic and controls are co-piloted by Darlin’

When the mates play together Angel always charges in headfirst, bold as brass, and ends up somehow doing most of the work and not dying even when their sanity stat plummets. They ignore almost all of David’s advice sitting next to them because they’re better at the game than he is

But they also scream and jump a lot more (most of it for show to entertain their friends who always get a good laugh out of it)

Despite being almost as good as Asher, Baaabe almost always gets got by the ghost first

Usually because the ghost was chasing Sweetheart and true to their Stealth nature even in a video game, they broke its line of sight and hid and the ghost caught sight of Babe

Sam is usually… there. When it’s Mates Night Game Night he stays in the van/truck. Darlin’ is the loudest backseat gamer

—

Solaire Clan

Darlin’ drags Sam into this game

Vincent loves this game

Lovely takes a long time to come around on it because being hunted in the dark by an unseen force kinda reminds them of Adam

Sam doesn’t know how literally anything works to the point where Darlin’ and Vincent tease that he’s refusing to remember what all the items do on purpose. Vincent calls him an old man and Sam shoots back that Vincent was literally born one year after him and just turned younger and to shut his damn mouth

Which of course makes Vincent laugh harder

Lovely eventually tentatively starts playing the game because of how much Vincent is laughing with Sam and Darlin’

And over time Lovely gets really good at it. A lot of it seems like dumb luck but no. They’re just good

—

D.A.M.N. Fam

First of all, the four-person multiplayer limit means Gavin/Freelancer and Huxley/Damien take turns and eventually Lasko and his Water Elemental I presume

Sometimes Damien and Huxley are both on the game and Gav/Freelancer swap, sometimes vice versa, etc.

Lasko screams at everything at first, but as he slowly learns the game he actually becomes the best at recognizing the patterns of each ghost type’s quirks

Damien tries so hard to get good at the game and never seem scared but Huxley’s laughter over the mic always clues the others into when Damien got spooked by something

Huxley jumps occasionally but usually just does whatever Lasko instructs him to do with a “sure thing bro” and his usual chill attitude

Although when he does jump there is always an audible thump over his microphone of his knees hitting his desk

Gavin and Freelancer honestly spend the whole game night messing with each other. Trying to jumpscare one another

Or Gavin is pretending to try to seduce the ghost and the lewd noises he makes while talking to the ghost with the spirit box with the radio on totally don’t make Lasko turn as red as a tomato

To their credit, Freelancer does try on their turn. It’s not their fault they get super focused and then Gavin putting a hand on their shoulder to ask if they want a snack makes them shriek much to the amusement of their friends

Lasko’s Water Elemental is even more chill than Huxley and played this game for ages before meeting the group and does their own thing but always to the benefit of the group. Rarely uses the voice chat for more than a few words announcing their intentions. “Power has been turned on.”—“Freezing temperatures confirmed in the upstairs back bedroom. That’s where the ghost is.”—“The ghost is hunting.”—“Okay. Hunt’s over.”

Freelancer and Gavin refuse to show this game to Caelum

Freelancer occasionally announces a false hunt to freak out the others—and almost always a real hunt starts right as they admit they were messing around and they’re the first to get got

If Freelancer isn’t down first it’s Huxley, who will purposely draw the ghost’s attention to protect his friends

That said the whole group usually survives the whole expedition each round once they get good at it

—

Misc. Bois

Aaron doesn’t play but Smartass does. Aaron becomes a decent backseat driver for lore

Elliott and Sunshine actively sabotage each other and mess around more than they pay attention. They still get everything done correctly anyway

Starlight plays occasionally and Avior never does but he will watch and he is the absolute best pattern recognizer and the best backseat gamer

Guy loves this game to pieces. Sometimes it makes Honey jump. They do play with him a lot but Guy is better at it

Ollie is the Actual Best at this game but no matter how much he plays it and “Gits Gud” as it were, he still gets spooked. His partner will play but not necessarily understand everything they’re supposed to be doing

The Project Meridian bois don’t have time to play right now. Please leave a message and they’ll call you right back

Geordi gets so easily spooked by the noises but he loves the game anyway. When things are happy and fine Cutie gets a kick out of listening to his frantic thoughts

Morgan can’t See his own future so the mystery of what’s going to happen is quite enjoyable because it’s the opposite of meeting new people and immediately knowing them better than they know themselves by Seeing their entire future

Blake can See his own future so the game isn’t fun and he knows what it’s going to be every time

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threepandas · 4 months

Text

I came across a yandere Hawks prompt, then a fic.

And I just? ......*thought about it* oh... Oh No™. He would make an EXCELLENT and FASCINATING Obsessive. A "you showed me One(1) scrap of genuine human decency and that unlocked something deeply unhinged and desperate in me, because my life has been a parade of quiet nightmares, and I am so SO good at Faking now, because it was BEATEN into me, that no one... NO ONE will ever see me coming".

I wanna write iiiit. Cause no one seems to grasp its not the Yandere part or the Cocky Hot Boy part? It's the HORROR MOVIE part. The hunting you on silent, deadly, all powerful wings. Ever present PR smile gone for once. Crouched on a light post. Unblinking.

As he WATCHES.

You never notice. Not for days upon days. Even as you can feel in your gut, something's wrong. That someone's watching you. But you can't catch them. No matter how hard you try, no matter what you do. You can't find them. All while he notes every little thing. Learns and observes. Sitting so very, very still. And watching, watching, WATCHING...

Even as he keeps showing up.

Always the friendly hero. So flirty! So trustworthy! Non threatening! Ha ha! He brought snacks~ Say, you seem WORRIED? You know, he IS the number 2 hero. He bet he can HELP. Be a shoulder to lean on, a figure you can TRUST. Say, did you know he likes the same things YOU do? What a coincidence, right? What are the odds? Ha ha~

The best yandere? Do everything in their power not to get caught. To ease you in to their crazy. Lay their trap like gentle rose petals, so thick and deep, you can't see all the warnings carved into the road at your feet. Normalize it. But careful! Can't let them SEE all the crazy, they know it's not normal. Better to tuck that just out of sight.

Play pretend.

He'd be so, SO good at that.

The thing is? I feel like? People keep forgetting his in Cannon motivations! Make him act like his Mask or against his core nature! He wants to be a HERO. Wants to save everybody until it's not NEEDED. But even then? He wants to be useful. He wants to finally rest. Needs to be needed. Wants to be GOOD. Everything his parents were not. Everything that was beaten into him by the HPSC.

He'd WANT to drop the mask... but be unable to.

Except when he's watching.

Hunting.

Like playing pretend. Infiltrating a Normal Life. He'd set it all up. The meet cute, the Heroic rescues, the dates. A whole timeline. A fake little life in a pretend little world. Lies upon lies. So he can be Normal. So you will love him. So everything will be warm and soft and HIS. A storybook romance... isn't it perfect? Isn't it JUST want you wanted? Almost... too much so?

Like someone read the diary of your mind.

Or... was stalking you for months. Watching. Correcting course and refining plans as new information was uncovered? But I mean... that would be crazy! Insane! No one would do THAT! And even if they DID, your loving boyfriend Keigo would stop them, right?

Of course he would. You're his world. The best thing to ever happen to him.

He'd NEVER let anything happen to you!

He'll keep an eye out, okay?

So feel nice and safe~♡ Your boyfriend is watching.

#yandere hawks #yandere #threepandas #some thoughts

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suusoh · 2 months

Note

Something something Johan slowly warming up to sex because of the implications of entering you something something bodies merging something something the last frontier of physical intimacy even if it doesn’t do much for him physically initially.

Words are not my forte but like before he figures out he enjoys putting his pp in you it might appeal to him just for the connotations of “entering” the person he loves/wants to possess. And then maybe he figures out he enjoys the physical sensation as well.

I imagine this slow progression from your post about the reader getting horny to him losing his shit about getting horny then once he’s done freaking out he still hates the fact that he’s horny. But the unexpected erections allow a very small little idea about fucking you, which he ignores for a while. But then the idea of that makes him consider the act of penetration and the implications, maybe reading/consuming content about it which describes its appeal. And little by little romanticizing it not in the normal way someone would, but in the “i have access to every part of you, every crevice” “this is as close as we can physically get” way idk if you get what i mean but. While the horror of being horny doesn’t go away, he gets a little bit, slowly, tempted to try it.

Looking at it not through the lens of pleasure, but his weird little tendency to blur the lines between himself and the people he loves which he (obviously) already does in terms of identity, but wow with you (and the power of his new dick-hardening ability haha kill me) he can do it physically. It’s not the same as the “we’re literally the same person” thing but there’s smth there idkkk i can’t describe my thoughts well. Anyway that way he can justify consider the act without admitting the extent of his humanity or stuff.

uh-huh! Once he gets over his somewhat aversion to it, and once he's accepted his attraction with you mentally, emotionally, sexually, and finally— physical manifestations of those attractions (as much as he loathes the fact that he's experiencing it) he'd still be interested, with feeling this for the first time with you. I think after a loooooooooooooonnnggg long long long while of finally getting over his view, he'd just let his sexual frustration boil over and finally go to you and be like "please help me with this condition of mine". (said condition just being his pp going hard, but johan treats it like it's some disease lmao).

I think a part of him is like still reeling and hating himself for letting himself get this like.... low?? I don't want to say low but like, it's like definitely a fall from grace from his perfect, non-human, "untouchable being" state.

But another part is overwhelmed and overheating and melting in the inside from just how... how good this feels. It feels so good, too good. it makes him feel... real again for some reason. Like everything around him, your body, the air, the room, the whole world is suddenly so tangible, and it's like he's seeing how beautiful you are to him all over again, and shit he should be thankful— wait why is he feeling thankful? whatever, he is thankful that he's here with you and you're here with him and he's doing this human experience with you, and holy shit holy shit holy shitshit shit shit is it supposed to feel this good? God.... if this is what being human feels like, he doesn't think he could ever return to being a nameless monster again.

#“wait suso- you're not just gonna reduce johan's nihilistic and broken character and lack of humanity to just be solved by him cumming—”#SHHHHHHHHHHHHHH yes i am <3 #also darling is not solving anything. Nina and Tenma already solved his humanity thing <3 darling is continuing nina and tenma's efforts.#darling is doing their part!!!! salute 🫡🫡🫡#also like if y'all read invincible. fucking VILTRUMITES. 800 year old nihilistic inhuman beings who look down on pathetic humanity/humans #they get laid with humans once and suddenly they're like... “actually maybe humans aren't all that bad :// they have nice activities”#johan x reader #johan liebert x reader #yandere johan liebert #yandere johan liebert x reader #yandere johan #yandere johan x reader #c.johan liebert

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portaltothevoid · 11 months

Text

you're losing me part viii -- ex!terzo x reader, copia x reader

warnings: angst, violence, sexual tension, brief mention of blood

word count: 3.9k

taglist: @bitchywitchygardener @calitmediondelll @copias-juicebox @copiasprincipessa @da-rulah @deetz-ghuleh @fishwithtitz @ghostfangirlsweden @ivycasket @lurancyvenom @sodoswitchimage @water-ghoulette @zombiesnips-blog

With bared teeth and a sinister growl rumbling from your chest, you charged at Terzo. Your forearm pressing into Terzo’s throat as you shoved him against the door. “You fucking liar!” you snarled. Your voice sounded just like it did that first time you changed in this very office. It was deeper, more gravelly. Less human. “Is this some kind of game to you?!”

He was mute with horror. The only sounds coming from him were desperate gasps for air. His hands grasped at your arm to try and lessen the pressure of it, but it only made you push down harder.

“Answer me!” you demanded.

“P-please. I c-can’t…” he managed to wheeze.

Control yourself, my child. We still need him… an ethereal voice chimed in your mind. You gave him one last pointed glare before you released him, turning away in disgust. As you did so, his panting silenced.

Sitting at Terzo’s desk was a familiar, devilishly handsome horned man with eyes of literal fire. His elbows were perched on the arm rests of the chair as he looked over his laced fingers in front of him, he let out a disappointed sigh. “I thought we went over how to control your wrath.”

“How can I control it around that?” you said, throwing your hand in Terzo’s direction. “You expect me to stay calm when he pulls me in again with his… his charm and ‘poor me’ act? You really expect me to stay calm when he’s still hiding shit from me?”

“He’s not lying,” Asmodeus said matter of factly.

“I find that hard to believe,” you said, still feeling bold as your eyes sized up the King of Hell before you, which earned you a slight smirk from him.

“He has been doing what he’s told and only sharing what we allow.” You went to take a step forward, but when you blinked, he was standing in front of you, holding you by your shoulders. “You need to listen to him. He’ll explain what’s necessary. The only thing I can interfere with is if you attempt to take his life, and with that being said, if you lose too much control, there will be immediate consequences.”

“I don’t even know what I am! I’m being thrown in so many different directions. He’s fucking me over one minute, he’s sincere the next, and then goes back to threatening to destory my life. I can’t keep doing this,” you pleaded. “I can’t figure any of this shit out with him acting like Jekyl and Hyde!”

“You’re acting like a petulant child,” scolded Asmodeus. His lip twitched as if he was trying to resist showing his increasing annoyance. “You still love him; you never stopped. And yes, you love Copia too, but this has nothing to do with love and everything to do with destiny. All of you are involved. You each have a role to play.” Asmodeus stepped away from you and closer to Terzo as he snapped his fingers. Terzo then started to fall forward, rubbing his throat and breathing heavily.

“This isn’t a game, tesoro,” he said hoarsely. When he looked up, he froze.

Your eyes darted back and forth between him and Asomdeus, who held out his hand towards Terzo. “See?” he said. “The truth.”

“King A-Asmodeus,” he stuttered with a bow of his head. “Can she–”

“Yes. Both of you can see me, because I’m growing tired of how long this is taking,” Asmodeus deadpanned as he approached you again, placing a hand on your shoulder. “I’m removing the hex which has served its purpose. There isn’t time for this little pissing match. I need him of sound mind for what is to come…” as his voice trailed off so did his touch. He dragged his hand from you before pointing and walking towards the man staring at him in an awestruck haze. “Now, Terzo,” he began, placing his hand on his back, guiding him slowly towards you, “you will tell her the rest of what you know. There’s no longer a need to withhold information from her. And you,” he said, placing a hand on your back, “need to focus on your ascension. You’ve been bestowed a great honor, given a great gift. Treat it as such. Understood?”

You and Terzo could only nod, which earned you both a pointed glare. Each of you stuttered your own “Yes, understood, your Darkest Eminence.”

“Good.” And with that he was gone.

You stood there, staring at the now empty space Asmodeus once occupied, dumbfounded. Slowly you turned and shifted your gaze to Terzo who stared back at you with the same slack jawed expression. He was the first one to break the silence. “So, you…eh, you have been having visions, seeing the Infernals.”

“They didn’t want me to tell anyone.” You blinked rapidly, allowing the blackness in your eyes to dissipate. You were still furious at Terzo, but not enough anymore to go full on beast mode.

“What was that he said about a hex?” he questioned as he cocked his eyebrow, fully turning to you, and crossing his arms expectantly.

After clearing your throat, you muttered, “When you texted me last night, I got really pissed off. And didn’t know if you were gonna… do anything to me again, so I went and hexed you.”

He laughed as he grabbed your hand, pulling you to the love seat that was in the corner of his office. He kept his distance from you, placing you at one end and himself at the other. “If that’s not a sign of true love, I don’t know what is.” You only scowled at him in response. He took off his gloves, tossing them aside. Running his hand through his hair, he took a deep breath as he looked over at you. “I meant it when I said I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“That’s nice. You still did. Countless times. I’m done talking about it. What I do want to talk about is how the hell are you involved in this prophecy?”

“Well, aside from the Infernals showing themselves to me–” You crossed your arms and gave Terzo a warning look that made his cocky attitude fade as he cleared his throat. “You know how I’m only three months younger than Secondo?”

“Oh…” you said quietly as it dawned on you. “Same father…”

“Different mothers, sì. Did I ever tell you what little I know about her?”

You scoffed. “Not really. You just said how she wanted nothing to do with you and Nihil was a shit father that left it up to Primo to raise you both, because he couldn’t be bothered.”

“Bene, when she found out about Secondo just after I was born, she did not take that well. She had thought she was Nihil’s only partner, so there was a huge fight, which ended in her leaving and never coming back.”

Nothing could stop the burst of laughter that erupted from you. “Wow. Like father, like son.”

“At least I can remember all my partner’s names,” Terzo clapped back, casting his own threatening look towards you.

“Ooh, bravo,” you mocked sarcastically, with some weak applause and a roll of your eyes. “So that’s it? You think you're extra special because you don’t have the same mother and you’ve had some visions?”

“And you’re forgetting that it is me who is the current Papa.”

“And you don’t think Copia could be after you?” He casted a side-eyed glare at you. “You do realize ‘being Papa’ doesn’t mean shit when it comes to this, right? They’ve already scheduled Writer Ghoul to be here for the beginning of next year…”

Terzo fully turned his body towards you and leaned in closely. “And do you realize that’s exactly the point? We can change that. You can change that.”

“The only thing I’m starting to realize is that you–” Whatever snide remark you had brewing was shut down when Terzo put a finger to your lips and gave you the look he only did when he was done with you being a brat. You swallowed, shoving your words down with your gulp.

“Save your smart ass assumptions, amore. We’re destined for something beyond all of this. And I cannot for the life of me figure out why you can’t just accept that, despite everything, ti amo.” Your eyes turned to slits as your nostrils flared. Terzo moved you so you were also facing him. His hands rested on your shoulders and locked you in place. “Please, just listen. I’m not saying this to… I’m not trying to make you upset. I have to tell you everything now, sì?”

You let out a burst of air through your nose. “Fine. Talk,” you grumbled.

“I did go to the Seers about your mark when I first suspected what it was. That was before the… eh… first time… But after that, that was when I first saw Lucifer himself. He told me of my importance to His plan and of your importance. I had to be the one to bring forth your darkness. You don’t know how many times I asked, ‘why me?’ The only answer I’ve ever gotten was that I am destined for something greater than this. What ‘this’ is, I really cannot say, but now, the one thing I am certain of is that I don’t want to be without you. I’ve never… What I feel for you is something I’ve never felt for anyone. I’ve never been afraid of losing someone before. And I knew when you left after the Mabon Ball that I had done exactly that.”

“How could I stay with you after that? Why would I even want to?! And then you forced me–”

He rested his forehead on yours, sighing as he closed his eyes for a moment, before he moved back slightly, his dichromatic eyes boring into yours. “I know. I know what I did. I couldn’t stand how you left me for… him. I constantly felt worthless and undeserving of you. But I had to find a way to set what was inside you free. I thought what happened that night would be enough.”

“So, you hurt me in the worst possible way? You felt so undeserving of me you wanted to destroy me and then… make me hate myself like you do?” Your voice trembled. The anger had left. A tsunami of sadness washed over you as you felt tears welling up.

“It was jealousy. It was…” He let out a frustrated sigh as he clamped his eyes shut and shook his head in an attempt to sort out all of his thoughts. “I didn’t know what exactly was going to happen to you. All I knew is that you would go through various stages of ascension, but the first one, unleashing your Infernal self, would be the most difficult. Some of the things I did… bene, that was just me being, eh, a little bit fucked up in the head.” You couldn’t help but let out a breathy chuckle at his little shrug. “So I convinced myself that if I did my worst, and you became what you were destined to be – being cut from the cloth of Hell – the suffering I caused, the torment… would be overlooked, or forgiven, somehow. And then the weight of every action hit me and–” he moved his hands to hold your face, his thumbs rhythmically moving along your jawline. “–I regret so many things. I just… I want us to be as we were in the beginning. I don’t want to hurt you anymore. I just want… I want to love. And to be loved. I want you, tesoro. I want us. I want to be who you loved before all this.”

Your hands flew to his wrists. You had fully intended to tear him away from you, but you just held onto him. The thudding sound coming from your chest was deafening. Automatically, your eyes darted from his eyes to his lips. The next thing you knew, the space between you both was gone, you were leaning back, pulling him on top of you.

With Copia, there was comfort and safety, but with Terzo, there was unadulterated passion and fervent intensity. You craved both things. But was the passion worth the price? Could you find the intensity in safety?

Where Copia was domestication, Terzo was wildness. Essentially you had what at times felt like a disobedient beast tucked away in the darkest corners of your mind and slowly it was being brought to the light. It seemed as though Copia’s role was to tame it and Terzo was to allow it to be free. A part of you knew that was why, during that fateful summons, you let it happen. Part of your guilt stemmed from wanting it to happen. Your mind was reeling, yet your focus was the situation in front of you, or rather, on top of you. Right now, you didn’t want to have to choose between anything. You only wanted to feel.

When Terzo broke the kiss, you could see that fire for you burning in his eyes. You found yourself pulling him towards you again. He left a trail of kisses up your neck until he reached your ear. “Does your Cardinal ever make you feel the way I do?” His voice was breathy and sultry.

And that was why you couldn’t have nice things when it came to Terzo. Your eyes snapped open and you pressed your lips tightly together in a meak attempt to ground yourself as you tried not to fuel the anger you felt resurfacing. Without a word, your grip on his shirt tightened before you pushed him off you, sending him toppling to the floor. You sat up and shook your head in discontent. “You know, you really have a way of ruining a moment,” you said, deadpan.

“Is that what that was? Just a moment?” he said with a snarky tone. You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. He propped himself up on his elbows, looking up at you from his spot on the floor. “This just reminded me… You never did answer my question from earlier.” There was the slightest sly smile tugging at his lips. With a glare as your only response, “Do you love him?” he pressed.

“I am not doing this with you.” You got up and stepped over him, making it just a few steps before he followed suit, grabbing your arm to turn you back towards him.

“Then what are you doing with me? What were you doing with me, hm?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. This only spurred your irritation.

“The only reason. I’m even here. Is because I wasn’t going let you manipulate me again.” You started to storm off again, but he caught up with you in front of his desk. Using the same motion as before, he made you face him.

“And now you know that shit is over. When are you going to start seeing the bigger picture here, hm? This is more than any of us! How many times do I have to say it? You don’t just need someone who loves you by your side, you need someone who can lead.”

“Do you see the bigger picture? This isn’t about love, it’s about destiny! For all of us! It’s probably not even going to matter what we want in the end!”

“Esatto (exactly)!”

“Sathanas, what is your point? Are you just trying to piss me off?” Your irritation was verging towards volatile.

“I’m trying to make you see what you aren’t. The wedge I drove between us didn’t stop you from loving me. You don’t even realize how much you need–”

“This isn’t about you!” you yelled. “What!? Do you need an ego boost? Is this your fucked up way of begging me to take you back? To put the odds more in your favor? I can’t keep fucking doing this with you!”

Once again, you turned to leave but Terzo's hands rushed to your arms – his vice grip holding you in place as his fingers constricted your biceps.

“I know when the time comes, it will be me by your side.” You opened your mouth to begin your retort, but he cut you off by shaking you, forcing all of your attention on him as he leaned even closer to you, your foreheads almost touching as he looked down at you. “Stop trying to deny it,” he growled through his teeth. Briefly he shut his eyes before suddenly his whole demeanor softened when he opened them again. He moved one hand up to caress your cheek. “Stop denying your feelings for me. We both know they’re still there,” he laughed softly, his eyes followed his fingertips as they ghosted down your skin before tapping right at your heart. Almost seductively and with a glint of mischief, his eyes lingered on your lips for a brief moment before finally they met yours. “You wouldn’t be so… enraged if they weren’t.”

You could feel your chest rise and fall as you forced yourself to take deeper breaths in a vain attempt to remain calm. You didn’t dare say anything. In all honesty, you didn’t even know what to say, but you’d be damned if you ever were to admit to his face he might be even the slightest bit right.

Delicately, as if you might shatter, he slipped his hand down to hold your neck, his thumb continuing to caress your cheek. Your piercing stare never faulted, but that didn’t deter him from searching for something in your eyes. His face dropped in a way that looked like he was about to start begging you, but you weren’t sure for what. “I can't stand who I've become, tesoro. I can change. I promise you. I promise I will be a better man.”

There he went again. Promises, promises. Your scowl deepened. You could feel a growl readying itself, about to be unleashed, but you gritted your teeth. “Did you tell that to the sister that was in your bed just last night?”

Terzo's face went slack as the shock from your question sunk in. He moved his mouth like he was trying to find the right words to say, but nothing came out. You took this opportunity to finally lean into your hurt and your anger. You didn’t just walk into the fire of your wrath, you ran. And your eyes turned devoid of color.

Before he could even register what you were doing, Terzo's arm was pinned behind his back, your other arm was above his, across his back, creating pressure over his lungs. The desk dug into his gut as you pressed your body weight (along with what felt like five other’s) down on him as you folded him like a piece of paper. “Do. Not. Keep making me promises you know you can’t keep.” You pushed him harder into the desk. “You think all of a sudden you’ve changed in the course of half a day? Do you?” You pressed down even harder. “Answer me!”

He could only shake his head “no” as he gasped for air. Dissatisfied with that answer, you pulled him up and tossed him behind you like a rag doll, sending him stumbling backwards. You watched him as he attempted to gain his footing. His face paled visibly (even with his papal paints) when he saw the change in your eyes. He held his hands out in front him and you noticed how they trembled. You also noticed the deep feeling of satisfaction that nestled itself in you at the sight of that. “I kn-know it will… take s-some time… I— I can prove to you. Please, believe me, I don't want— I want to be the man you n-need me to be. I want—“

“Do you think I fucking care about what you ‘want’?” you spat at him as you closed the space between you both again. He kept backing up until his body was flush with the wall behind him. You placed your hands on either side of him, caging him in. “I know what you want. You want to feel like you matter, like you’re important. You want everyone to adore you. You want to be the center of attention.”

You took your hands off the wall, sliding them over Terzo's arms until they met in the center of his chest. Sensually, they trailed downward. “You only want me…” suddenly you took his jacket in your hands and yanked him toward you. With a twist of your body, you threw him onto the hardwood floor, flat on his back. Before he could register any pain, you were on top of him, pulling him up towards you again. The fabric of his silken jacket balled in your fists. “You only want me, because you want power. I'm nothing but a means to an end.” Putting both sides of his jacket into one hand, your other one went to the nape of his neck where your fingers slid through his hair before you made a tight fist and pulled his head back. “And that’s why you don’t care about anything else besides being by my side. So, no, I don't believe you when you say it’s me that you want. It’s not me and it never was. It’s my power.” Swiftly, you let him go from your preternaturally tight grasp as he fell back onto the floor with a thud and an immediate wince.

His eyes stayed shut for a few beats. You leaned back, so you were sitting on him. You rolled your eyes since this time you felt the hard bulge underneath you and his irksome smirk befell his face. The hex had definitely been removed. “Who's to say I don't want both things, dolcezza?” he chuckled, almost smugly.

Any control you had, any care for consequences, left. The fires of wrath had never burned this bright inside you and you let it consume you. Without hesitation, you brought your fist to his face. His head whipped to the side before your opposite fist made contact, busting his lip open. You yanked him up to you again by his shirt that was becoming stained as the blood trickled down from his face. “Why can’t you ever just love me!? Why am I never enough for you?!” you screamed in his face so loudly and gutterally that you could feel it ringing in your ears.

Letting him fall back, you wrapped your hands around his throat while you put all your weight down on them and squeezed. His eyes grew wide. His already bruising face started to turn red. He feebly grasped at your arms, desperately trying (and failing) to loosen your grip. You were too lost in your bloodlust to hear the door fling open and the cacophony of heavy footsteps behind you. You didn’t realize what was happening until you were being pulled off of Terzo.

You growled, screamed, and snarled like a rabid animal as you tried to get back to Terzo, so you could finish what you started. Being much, much stronger than you, your captors held you in place as you thrashed and swung your limbs trying to escape their hold to no avail.

part vii | part ix

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