#worst case its awkward for both of them

[bameme]

We gotta keep up the public pressure on billionaires who own private jets until they start carpooling on chartered flights instead.

Not only will it help the environment, it also raises the odds of Elon Musk getting accidentally sat next to Mark Zuckerberg and I find that funny as hell.

[mooishbeam]

『♡』 Besotted

♡ featuring: yandere!ajax x f!reader

♡ summary: the love of your life knows you without asking, selfless and caring. however, you're slowly starting to realize the man you loved was a mask of the truth hiding underneath. wc: 12.5k+

♡ cw/tw: modern au, mentions of violence/blood, mentions of suicide, stalking, obsession, possessiveness, manipulation, rough sex, sideways sex, cockwarming, mating press, cunnilingus, drugging, overstimulation, praise, pet names (lots of them tbh)

notes: im so sorry i know it took me a long time but my time has been consumed by exams and its finals week soon so ahhhh. it's going to take me a little longer than usual until my semester is over, forgive me!! art by jam8366_dday on ig! <3 comments and reblogs are appreciated!

“Caramel macchiato for… Katheryne?” Your quiet voice deadens among the bustling crowd of businessmen, secretaries, and construction workers alike conversing through their morning wake-up. It’s incomparable to the serene appeal of a corner coffee shop—piled high with board games and books, the nooks and crannies decorated with some sort of trinket or knickknack you collected along the way, baubles that brought you joy and spread some to anyone that entered the cozy hole in the wall—“The Mad Hatter”. People are free to add stickers to the cash register, so convoluted with color similar to graffiti, including the pink-hatted cat Lyney glued to the top. Coffee tables share space with buoyant sofas, opposite of the display case viewing a multitude of extra sweet desserts and breakfast sandwiches. At night, the fairy lights bordering the wide veiled windows glimmered a dim hue that made feathery snow sparkle like stars during winter. You set the coffee under warm lights dotting the ceiling, emanating above the wooden interior. No one is finicky for your tastes; you are happy to see the familiar cheerful or grumpy faces entering the shop. You remember names, faces, and minute personal details they’d forgotten they shared over a steaming cup of latte left to warm because the art was too pretty to drink. They’re busy, but patient; they've acquainted you long enough to not be angry at the wait, and most times come to your defense against unruly customers. 

It's the worst—or for you, the best—in the afternoons, swarming crowds waiting for an afternoon pick-me-up. You and Lyney work to the best of your ability, serving up group orders with a quickness unparalleled by nearby chain coffeehouse’s. You regard it as your passion, although your parents were disappointed when you told them you and Lyney would be buying and renovating an abandoned property states over all for coffee; your delectable drinks have the potential to form long lasting relationships between you and other customers, and there’s a certain creative merit you relish whenever a guest takes pictures of the swan-like artistry foaming on the surface. The taste of bitter beans sparks moments of merriment, longing, and love—in some cases, it’s the best form of intimacy.  

Your best memories live in this shop; the ground powder that scattered everywhere and painted Lyney like a chocolate sculpture when he tried to push the inventory to the highest shelf or staying up after close in the middle of a blizzard to make flimsy homemade decorations for the grand opening with help from Lynette. 

It’s extra special that the very place you stand is where you found the love of your life. You met him at the register, loose curls dipped in autumn tones spilling over his long lashes. The void in his eyes motionless like the ocean before a low tide. You both stared at each other for a moment, taking in the lines and details of your flustering faces. You must’ve been staring for too long, as Lyney tapped your shoulder with a side eye that alerted you to the awkward silence and line heading out the door. You fumbled for apologies and took his order; the ginger boy chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck—Ajax—such a rugged name for a pretty guy. You prepared the Frappuccino with a drizzle of affection bespoken for him. When you gave him the drink, his hand grazed against yours, a kiss without lips. It left you breathless, and with an airy coyness he said, “I didn’t get your name?” You told him, and he tried out the sound on his tongue. You wished he’d say it over and over. With a rosy wash across his cheeks, “A fitting name for your beauty. Have a good day, (Y/N)” was all he said before he walked away, leaving you stunned and smitten. Lyney was the unfortunate victim that dealt with your wearisome fantasizing about Ajax. 

But Ajax already knew your name. And address, and friends.  

How could he not? When he saw you hanging lights in the windows on a particularly sunny morning that made your glowing face shine with pure radiance unrivaled by deities, he sunk endlessly. He vowed to walk at a distance at that same time every day to ogle your lustrous hair, your soft skin that didn’t break a sweat, the curve of your lips. You soon became an itch he couldn’t scratch, a plaguing thought that wiggled in the wrinkles of his brain and made it hard to sleep or work. You, you, you. Is your laugh a heavy snort or more lighthearted, do you have the same sense of humor as him? You’ll like what he likes, think what he thinks. 

You were constantly on his mind, he wondered if you were eating when he ate or how good you were sleeping as he drifted off to his. It’s not his fault that he snapped discrete pictures of your smiling face, you were too adorable to ignore. He valued coming home to kneel at the little shrine he made of your printed gaiety, surrounded by consistently fresh roses and citrus candles he thought you’d smell like. If he stood close enough, it was like you were right in front of him. The apron tied around your waist was a vibrant crimson—his favorite color. It's fate, the way the stars aligned and sent angels down to bless you with a pinafore of his approval. You had to know he was out there; he was already imagining returning to a cheerful home, and your swaying hips as you whipped up a glacé delight. He’d kiss you on the cheek, and you’d pop a tart blueberry in his mouth. Yes—it had to be this way, it must be what you wanted, too. 

Ajax coincidentally found himself rummaging through trash cans in the vicinity for an inkling of receipts from the shop. He stumbled upon it, of course—it’s not like he waited out until nightfall right before garbage day to have the highest chances of finding identification. The jagged fragment of a receipt led to your family, social media, and blogs you dedicated to your baking progress. And he’d monitor the sites on different screens with multiple tabs, an infatuated glaze over those dull eyes that kept him glued to the updates for hours. He made many accounts, liking your posts fervently with flimsy justifications of encouragement. You became reachable day by day. 

The day Ajax decided to pursue you upfront, it was a dream he hoped never to wake. He’d rehearsed it obsessively until the moment he stood in front of the glass door, a tremble in his restless legs at the thought of looking ridiculous. Seeing you up close felt like a special occasion. His heart was beating off-kilter in his quaking chest, as if jumping free fall out of a plane, and he held his breath until it opened. The confidence he mustered up before he got to the register did little to suppress the giddiness rolling in his veins. His pulse paced the closer he got. Two more orders and there you were; the center of his universe, and you didn’t know it yet. Pictures didn’t do you justice—no, he needed to see your grace preserved in museums depicted in rich Renaissance paintings onlookers could only fantasize holding or loving, but you’d be for him, and him alone. He drew a blank. “May I get your name for the order?” His eyes flickered with a brand-new luster, it melded certainty and delusion.  

She wants...my name.  

My name.  

The sweet harmony of your words lulled Ajax to an addicting turbid spiral that swept fondness through the tempest and scattered infatuation in its aftermath. A feeling too tenacious, it must be love. The incessant burn urged him to protect and guide you to him. You need him. Now he watched compulsively with a winded jaw, your smile to other men who couldn't compare to his devotion. They don’t know you like he does. He could map out the corners of your house from the slim backgrounds of your blog posts or name every club you’ve participated in since middle school. Hunger spread where his fists craved contact, like sunfire corroding the taught skin on his knuckles. They’ve breathed your air and existed in your presence. It’s undeserved, they’re unworthy. 

How fucking dare they. 

How lost you must be without him, led astray by intruding greed; he selflessly assumed his responsibility. You are his, after all. So, he stalked behind cars shadowed by harsh streetlamps to ensure you got home safe and intercepted your packages to check for threatening substances. The accomplishment he felt whenever he completed his—in his words, “duties”—instilled exultation beyond any memory. Within the envelopes, he’d leave an elegant note embellished with hearts hinting at his infatuation and the care he put in to maintain your safety. One letter turned to two, then five, to the point where you’d receive a sleeve stuffed with increasingly unhinged letters from your secret admirer that fanned out when you tipped it. 

On Christmas Eve, a limitless cloak of frozen stardust decided to flurry right before your shift ended. You covered Lyney’s shift so he’d have time to spend with Lynette and Freminent; it wasn’t like you had anything to do afterwards. You counted the flakes of the storm through frosted glass, thinking about the wellbeing of your family back home. Mailed gifts couldn't console the grief you felt during the holidays. A knock on the door turned your attention to the silhouette of a man wearing a slouched beanie with a pompom on top. You unlocked the door, and it swung open from the whirling heft of wind and smattered white across the wood from empty streets. 

“Sorry, we just closed-” You looked up, no time to register the freckled face from months ago, that stole your heart with a smile. Icy grains kissed his cheeks, as red as apples, and fused to the wool scarf draped around his trench coat. “Oh! Hello, again.” You tried to play it off, but the crack in your voice teetered. You were suddenly nervous. Ajax grinned hard and shuffled slightly inwards to escape the chill.  

“Hi (Y/N)! I was really hoping you weren’t closed, it’s a good day to grab a hot chocolate, y’know?” 

“It is. You’re probably freezing, please come in.” You should’ve been home by now, but for Ajax, you could spare a few minutes. He unraveled his winter attire to reveal a tightly fitted turtleneck and took a seat at the chair closest to you. You wrap around the counter and start the kettle, struggling with what to do next at the gaze gripping your mind. “One hot chocolate, coming up.” 

“How much I owe ya?” he chirped, arms resting on the table while he watched you grab two mugs. “No worries, it’s on the house. Consider it your Christmas present.” 

“I appreciate that, thank you. You really are kind...Lyney left you by yourself tonight?” You wondered how he knew Lyney’s name when they hadn’t met, but quickly brushed it off. 

“Yeah, I wanted him to spend time with his family.” 

“And you don’t have any here?” You didn’t retain your usual weariness towards acquaintances. On this lonely night Ajax didn’t feel like much of a stranger. 

“Nah, moved away to start this.” Your hands gestured to the quaint interior. Ajax scanned his surroundings, marveling at the scenery before he spoke. “What you’ve done with this, it’s lovely. Your ambition and dedication are apparent from the way you treat the customers, I can tell you’re passionate about what you do.” Your body flared like summer and succeeded in hushing the breeze. You poured a cup full of thick cocoa and plopped a dollop of whipped cream on both. “It’s not much, but-” the mugs settled on the table, and you sat across from him. “It smells amazing, (Y/N). You’re an expert at this” he interrupted. You traced the rim with your finger and rested your head on the other hand. 

“Thanks...I assume you don’t have family here, either? Think you’d be ripping open gifts by now if you did.” He took another sip. “Yup, they live in a different country. I should visit them soon” he sighed and glanced at the jumbled wool scarf. “Did a sibling make that for you?” you asked. 

“Yeah, my sister. A parting gift.” 

“It’s beautiful, she’s very talented” you remarked, admiring the delicate fleece. The bittersweet smile in response stuck to your heartstrings. “She is.” 

You both drank in silence and occasionally met each other's eyes, only to turn away. Something unsaid hung in the air. "Winter has a way of making us reminisce. It’s so depressing” you confided. You hadn’t told Lyney, but you were terribly lonely these past months. You replaced your emotions with extra shifts, but they came crashing down in the darkness of your bedroom. Ajax gazed at you like he could see through you. 

“The sky appears magnificent under the snow's embrace. Its purity is like the moon's gentle radiance. I don’t think there’s anything like a world covered in snow" he soothed. His words flustered you, and you homed in on the white trails dancing in your lukewarm cup. 

“I’ve never thought of it like that. I used to hate snow. It feels...intruding, I guess.” 

“But if we don’t allow ourselves to be intruded, how will we love?” he blurted. It was comforting to hear in the moment, and you returned his smile. 

“Is the hot chocolate good?” you asked. 

“It’s perfect.... you’re perfect.” You chuckled at the notion, mistaking it for pity. “I’m not perfect.” 

“But you are. The way you carry yourself, your intelligence, your courtesy. You’re flawless, gorgeous inside and out and you don’t even notice.” The way Ajax looked at you, on the verge of his seat and studying your face, lips, and hair. You couldn’t deny the flattery that drowned you and dragged you the more he persisted. “How would you know from one encounter?” His mouth fixed to say it, the truth, but he tight-lipped and reached into his coat pocket instead. He grabbed a blue velvet box and slid it to you. 

“I wanted to give you this. Ever since I saw you.” It felt expensive under your fingertips. You unclasped the front, and it opened to a twinkling pendant. It was a cable chain dangling an oval sapphire gem, with 18 karat white-gold halo sunbursts surrounding it. It’s breathtaking, as if stolen from the tomb of a goddess. 

“Wow, this is...stunning. Ajax, I can’t accept this; it’s too much” you pressured. You’ve never received a gift of this caliber from anyone, it didn’t feel right to look at it. 

“Consider it your Christmas present” he repeated. You shook your head and held up the box to hand it back to him. “I can’t, I shouldn’t-” 

“Please” he pleaded. He clasped your hands, a reassuring thumb gently caressing yours. You were so focused on its extravagance that you didn’t notice the note stuck to the roof of the box. Refined script dotted with hearts; the same style as the hundreds in your closet. Your mouth gaped. 

“This letter...you...have you been the one sending me all those love letters?” You should've had your suspicions, or the urge to back away, but you weren’t afraid. You tried to string together his ability to find your address or mail, or how he knew Lyney, but your brain couldn’t clear the fog of feeling loved after so many years. It’s a warm hug to the blood that instinctively ran cold. Your heartbeat’s fast, half with anxiety and the other with desire. 

Ajax solemnly hung his head and retracted his hands. He fidgeted with his thumbs. “I wasn’t sure how to tell you, I thought about being upfront, but I was so scared of your response and I didn’t want you to hate me, so I thought maybe if I sent them anonymously you could start liking the person behind it or if I played my cards right you’d find out who it was...but that doesn’t make any sense now that I’m thinking about it, I just wanted to be near you. You’re so amazing and smart and beautiful, I just...s-sorry…I’m rambling. I hope you can understand; I-I didn’t mean to harm I just want to make sure you’re safe” he choked. The strained words tumbled over one another and broke in places, where they traveled off at the end. Ajax averted your eyes, pools of tears threatening to fall from the corners. The sudden mood change took you off guard, and you reached for his guilty hands. You were on the verge of divulging your entirety for him, be it the isolation of the big city or lack of attention. He didn’t seem like a bad guy; he might have been misguided. What’s the harm in giving him a chance? 

“It’s okay, Ajax. I’m not upset, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t flattered” you giggled. “The letters are sweet, I read all of them. They make me feel a little better about living in a shithole apartment. Thank you.” He looked at you, bottomless intensity searching for more. “I’m interested in you, too” you added. 

“Then you’ll be my girlfriend?” It was phrased as a question but arrived as a proclamation. “...I would love that.” 

Ajax moved around the table. You rose to wrap your arms around his neck while he squeezed your waist with his head lying on your shoulder. The duping tears vanished like they didn’t exist, and his shameful expression morphed into a conniving smirk stretching unnaturally in his triumph. Your authentic touch, the smell of perfume wafting in his nose. It’s not citrus, but it’s you. You, everything is you. This is how things were meant to be. His eyes curved like arches from sheer elation, biting his lip to stifle the cackle. You’re together, at last. 

The snow stopped some time ago, but the blizzard was just beginning. 

Your relationship with Ajax progressed fast after that day. A weariness dulled within you after you came to your senses from your prior confession, and you weren’t sure about the stability of his neurotic nature. However, when Ajax showed up with a bouquet of the loveliest flowers you’ve ever laid eyes on during an exhausting shift, it shined above all else. He showers you with consistent love and attention and worships the ground you walk on with doting devotion. He's clingy and somewhat suffocating, but his sick adoration blesses you with rose-colored glasses; you’re divinity on a golden pedestal in his eyes, and if he fell hard, you fell harder. The considerate, caring, good listener he is makes the small hiccups go over your head. In the first few months you were unequivocally enamored, the kind that tied your universe to his. You patter about him to Lynette, who gives you half-concerned approval at the story of how you met and the “little things” you cherish.  

Like when he allowed you to move in without a second thought. The paint chipped around dodgy windowsills and fraying carpets, and your landlord wouldn’t pay for the fixes. Unfortunately, you needed a place to stay and couldn’t afford to speak up about the horrible conditions. You were used to your slumlord at that point, but the absence of working heat and busted appliances led you to the arms of your boyfriend, sobbing about the stress your landlord subjected you to. He scooped you like fragile glass as you faltered through shaky breaths grating your lungs and hushed your distress. Kissing your head, he rubbed your back and mumbled into your hair. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll take care of it...I’ll take care of everything.”  

A week later you’d found out that your landlord died from a gruesome suicide, and all tenants had to leave the auctioned duplex. Ajax took you in, and you began adapting to his midtown townhouse. Though you felt like a mooch at first, the welcoming interior had you snuggling between his downy bedding in no time. He shouldered your burden, accepted your genuine self and lavished generous replacements of the items you couldn’t carry. You don’t lift a finger around him, and he readily cooks and cleans for your comfort. 

You’ve gotten accustomed to his presence. When you wake, he’s either watching you sleep silently or preparing food for you to take to work. Ajax follows you around like an obedient pet, smoothing your hair and highlighting how beautiful you look in your rough post-morning wake-up state. He’ll try to kiss you before toothpaste, and you playfully mush his disappointed face off to get dressed. He compensates by kissing in other places, your clothed knee as he ties your shoes or your hands when they interlock. Prior to departing, he attaches that sapphire elegance to your neck. You grab your tidy lunchbox and stroll together in the early hours of the morning for your opening shift. “Have a good day, baby” he says, and places sugary smooches from your lips to your forehead and back again. You’d stand there forever, embracing his warmth if your alarm didn’t notify you to start prepping.  

When Ajax isn’t around, and you’re busy piping frosting onto cakes, there’s a profound hole in your happiness that can’t be filled with buttercream. The way his nose scrunches when he laughs hard, and those hot honey strands tickling your cheeks when you sleep because his face is directly on top of yours make you crave his sight and touch. Sometimes you ponder what you’ve done to deserve someone so over the moon for you. Hell, you’d give him the moon if that’s what he wanted; it’d barely cover a fraction of the benevolence he’s evinced. For now, you blink distraction away, and there's spread sloppily piled over the cakes and countertop. You simper to yourself; such a handsome, tender handful. 

Your daydreams carry you through close, and you and Lyney remain as you wipe down tacky tables with rags lathered in disinfectant. You’re circling surfaces with vigor, quick to move to the next. You hear him laugh from another table. “Okay, speed cleaner. Missing your house husband?” he teases. You roll your eyes and pretend to throw the rag at him. “Hurry up, I wanna go home.” He fake cowers and throws his hands up in surrender. “Yes ma’am. Don’t waste all your strength, Lynette will be upset if you can’t dance with her tomorrow.”  

“I’m not some old woman, Lyn. I can party.” You force away the memory of sleeping on Lyney’s shoulder in the lounge area of a booming club. 

“Sure, grandma. Don’t forget your cane when I pick you up” he jokes. You chortle, and actually throw the rag this time. Too bad his agile form dodges it. “I gotta let Ajax know.”  

“...Right.” Lyney loses momentum and stares at the steaming bucket for a pregnant pause, stirring the rag to buy time. You glance towards him, and he shifts a peccant look. You turn on your heels and lean on the back of a chair. 

“Spill it” you demand.  

“Spill what?” 

“What you actually wanna say.” Lyney bites the inside of his cheek to physically restrain the itch that vents brutal honesty. “I don’t think you’ll like what I have to say.” 

You narrow your brows and sigh in disbelief. “So what? We’ve been friends since high school, just tell me.” He pinches the bridge of his nose and gulps a deep breath. “Lyney.” 

“It’s about Ajax” he exhales. “Oh.”  

“I’m worried about you.” You weren’t expecting the serious air, it sounds like an intervention. It's unnatural coming from your easygoing friend. 

“Really? Why?” you question. He blinks for a few moments, dumbfounded at the innocent audacity, or willful ignorance. 

“Some of the stuff you say about him...it creeps me out. How is it not creeping you out?” he stresses, gawking at the exorbitant gem. 

“Hmm, I’m not sure what you mean.” To you, Ajax isn’t the scary type. Mysterious maybe, but his affection prevents you from seeing him as anything but the missing half of your soul. 

“Okay. You don’t remember telling me how he kept that rotting coffee cup from when you guys first met? Or how he watches you sleep? He made your favorite meal first try and called it a ‘lucky guess?’” The more he goes on, the more disbelieved he becomes.  

“I think it’s romantic” you chide. He expels his frustration. 

“(Y/N), I'm not saying any of this to be a hater, but all of this is unhealthy. Unhealthy might be an understatement. I mean, the man acts like he can't live without you. What if you were to break up, can you be sure he won't lose his fucking mind?” The hypothetical calamity of separation sinks seeds in puddles of doubt. It’s not possible. 

“We love each other. That won’t happen.” 

“It’s been over a year, and you know nothing about him. He comes out of nowhere, sweeps you off your feet, love bombs you, and you take it at face value. Maybe he truly is the one and it’s love at first sight, but this whole situation is...odd. I care about you, (Y/N), and this guy scares me. He’s hiding something.” You attempt to formulate a fact you’ve learned about him, a detail to prove how close you’ve gotten, and come to realize there’s none in your reservoir. You know naught of his friends or family or wealth. Ajax tells you safe verities, like his favorite food and hobby. You don’t thirst for personal space or secrets when it comes to Ajax, and the stygian plunge in his eyes gives you no hints, but you believe the pleasing words that escape his lips either way.  

You glance at the empty Tupperware on the counter, that was once packed with a hefty sandwich and strawberries carved into hearts. He's effortlessly adorable, a small berry-stained note with a simple phrase: "you'll do great today <3". Your dream man, he wouldn't hide things from you, you won’t fathom the thought. “I-” 

Ding 

That dazzling toothy gapped grin spreads warmth across your chest and the room instantly feels a bit brighter. Ajax saunters like he owns the place, engulfing your frame in his stature and placing a kiss on your head. Lyney freezes though Ajax ignored his existence. “I’m getting ready to leave” you muffle into the musky denim jacket. He nods, but his action won’t follow his hands sturdy on your waist as you shimmy out. You make haste to the back room, past the pantry dry goods and collect your sweater and bag. 

You’re about to push open the swinging door when you pause, catching a glimpse of Ajax and Lyney through the oval window. They don’t normally interact in the same space, and you thought it best to respect their boundaries. Ajax is turned away from you, but you can see Lyney clear as day, a stone solid unease skipping on his skin that makes calculated breaths too obvious. It’s silent enough to hear a pin drop. His arms are stuck to the sides, and you observe the apron jumbled in his clutches shaking ever so slightly. He’s trained to the hickory grain of the floor, and from a small portion of Ajax’s visible face, it’s a dreadful expression unbeknownst to you.  

There’s an almost tenebrous loom towering over Lyney, and you feel an alarming shiver settle in your lower spine. Were his eyes normally this gloomy? Your heart rate palpitates when it shouldn’t. You want to look away from the swirling dark depths possessing your soulmate, shooting daggers at your friend. His jaw is clenched to popping, veins on his neck and hands chasing bone. He has a lethal grip on Lyney’s shoulder, and the rough tension pulls at the wrinkling undershirt. But he sneers—a twisted, coiling kind that doesn’t match his glare—an impersonation of affability. 

“Ajax” you mutter softly as you sway the door. He turns sharply, and it’s like a flipped switch. The rage decays to ash swiftly and he’s yours again, your adoring admirer. “I'm ready.” He waits for your approach and tangles your hands. You make your way out, freeing Lyney from capitivity. He holds the door open for you to leave, and you shout “Bye, Lyn! I’ll see you tomorrow.” A shell-shocked cast on his face, he doesn’t say a word. 

You sit at the dining table, feeling disconnected from reality while the kitchen rises with a clatter of pans and glass. You scroll through posts on your phone and occasionally peek over at the corridor to watch Ajax work. His passion shows when he cooks, rocking the skillet to upturn the veggies sizzling within. His broad back flexes with skillful movements, and he looks at you, winking with a teasing pucker on his glossy lips. You giggle. I was just imagining things. 

He slides the plates on the table and sits across from you. Ajax sits like a giddy child waiting for you to try their creation, and you take the first bite. The bountiful flavor dances on your tongue. “It’s really good!” you muffle through bites. A tinge of pink sets on his cheeks. “I’m glad you like it.” 

You chew haphazardly out of focus. You can’t help but notice how quiet your phone has been since you’ve moved in, it feels foreign in your possession. Not a single call from your friends came through, forgotten and invisible. You contemplate apologizing to Lyney tomorrow, it was wrong to get defensive towards compassion. Ajax interrupts his eating to track your fork picking at the meal. 

“You okay, sweetheart? You aren’t eating.” 

You awake from your trance. “Huh? Oh, nothing. Just feels kinda off.” Ajax’s back straightens, and he tenses throughout at a semblance of negative diction. “What does? The food? I’ll remake it” he stumbles. 

“No no, the food is great. It’s, I don’t know. I haven’t got a call from Tiggy in a while.” The corners of Ajax’s mouth contort. 

“Really...I heard he’s been hangin’ out with some new people.” His tone is dry, it strives to be nonchalant. His elbows rest on the table, and he carves his knife into bloody steak like struggling living bone. 

“So, I guess that means he can’t message me anymore, huh” you chuckle. He twists the knife deeper, as if it’s digging in his back. “He’s just a bad friend honestly. Not consistent, you even said he missed your birthday last year. Who needs a friend like that?” 

“I guess.” Meanwhile, you flip through your contacts searching for Tighnari’s name; come to find out he’s nowhere in your phone. In fact, a lot of messages and numbers seemed to have dwindled over time. Your own parents, vanished. Perhaps you were so overworked you’d forgotten they deleted. You start scouring for his profile, but it doesn’t come up. You can’t imagine Tighnari wiping out his entire presence, and it’s not just him. Outside him are the piles of male friends you seldom locate, and you become flustered at your blindness. You look at Ajax, and his eyebrows quirk up to inquire about your confusion. 

“That’s so weird. I should try calling him-” 

“Don't.” It’s not suggestive, its one note, stern demand. It rings in your ears, and when that mask slips for a terrifying moment, you hold your breath until it recurs. “’S not that I don’t want you to, honey. He clearly doesn’t care in the first place, that’s not a sign of a good friend. I’m just trying to help; you know I always have ou- your best interest.” There’s an unrelenting pit in your stomach telling you it’s wrong. “You seem tense since we left, Ajax. Are you alright?” He stops, it leaves you on edge when a formidable shadow casts over his eyes from his bangs that make them look as endless as the bottom of the sea.  

“I feel like...you’re straying away from me. You’re becoming more secretive. Have I done something to violate your trust?” You don’t consider how Ajax knew Tighnari, let alone how he’d find the password to your phone. It was your fault, it had to be. The solemn quiver of his lips clears your suspicion. You’d forget it all to see him happy again. You stand and sway to his side of the table, sitting on his lap to take his face in your hands. “Not at all, babe. My phone’s been acting up, I didn’t mean to accuse you. I just asked because you and Lyney looked high-strung. ‘M sorry.” You kiss him softly with reassurance, and he melts in your touch. The foggy residue shows on his blushing face, and you introduce another to his cheek. “I’m going to a party with Lyney and Lynette tomorrow, so I wanted to see if Tiggy would come.” 

“Ah...okay. Don’t worry, darling, it was a short conversation.” Vague and unassuming, but it didn’t matter now. Ajax can’t deceive you. 

The state you drifted off—lying on Ajax’s chest with his arms embracing your lax figure—is not how you awake. A piercing scream rises, and you jump out of bed in a drowsy stupor. “Ajax?” you addle. Metal clangs to the floor, and the sheets hang low on your hips before you dart down the stairs and through the dining room to discover the cause of the noise.  

He’s kneeling on the kitchen tile, compressing his forearm. Vermillion overflows between his fingers and palm and spatters his shirt. The knife, along with a clumsily chopped apple, is muddy with blood. “Oh my god!” You sprint for a towel and first aid kit crammed underneath the kitchen sink. When you return, Ajax is hissing from the sting, salty tears smeared on his eyelashes. You accompany him on the floor, ignoring the crime scene peppering the cabinets and gently glide his hands to get free view of the wound. “Are you okay?”  

“Yeah, now that you’re here.” It’s a nasty cut, not a gash but painful, nonetheless. You bring him to wash the excess blood, and pat it dry carefully. The fizz from disinfectant makes his arm jolt, but you hold him steady to apply. As you bandage his arm, he blinks away the twinge.  

“I’m sorry, baby. You have work in a few minutes, and you’re here taking care of me. Go ahead and get ready, I’ll do it.” 

“No way in hell am I leaving you like this. Don’t apologize” you insist, the end of your wrap stuffed to secure. You can’t conceive clocking in or partying tonight while Ajax suffers at home. “I’m gonna call out for a couple days so I know you’re well. Relax, I’ll be right back, okay?” He nods, and you rush to the bedroom to retrieve your phone. Ajax wipes his face on his sleeve, streaking insincere sorrow near the serpentine smirk. 

You spent the day cleaning the home, wiping the kitchen top to bottom and making dinner for Ajax. He rests in bed, and you often check in on him. Treating him like an intensive care patient might’ve been excessive, but he accepts your gentle touch and hand fed meals nursing him back to health. You’re lying in bed with him, and the load of his brawny chest forces yours into the mattress with your legs on either side. You massage the pads of your fingers into his scalp, and your breathing weighted blanket emits a groan. Dazed and fully lax, lulling from the rise and fall of your chest. 

The second day is the same, but the lack of pressure divides your dreary lids. It’s midnight, and it casts a fluorescent glow that permeates the room. You feel your way from walls to banister, and as you’re about to step down the stairs to get water, you pause before the living room. Crouched, peeking through the bars of the banister, you see Ajax on the couch in absolute quiet. Shade stands in place of his facial features, obscured besides the hazy veneer in his iris that bores into the journal in front of him. The collage catches moonbeams on the coffee table, crowded with tiny notes that peak out the uniform pages, and polaroid pictures glued to each sheet, stacked so thick it can’t close. He uses the pen you thought you’d lost moving in, running his tongue over the older bite marks on its base. Squinting your eyes fails at registering the specifics. 

You suck in a breath and take another step, hoping the unreliable foundation won’t give way to whining wood. He skims across the words as if they’re memorized, and crows to himself. Eeeeir. It conforms, and the minute you press into it and that haunting sound whispers through the house, Ajax cracks his neck to your position. You stiffen, a deer in headlights. He puts down the pen. 

“Oh, darling. I’m sorry, did I wake you?” he coos. You shoot to a stand, and Ajax meets you at the bottom of the staircase. “I-I just wanna get some water.” You feel meek and small, fairly avoiding his gaze. He enfolds your jaw with his bad arm like it doesn’t hurt, and pecks you on your forehead, light with anxious sweat. “I can get that for you, dear.” Before he can go, you interrupt. 

“Ajax.” 

“Hm?” 

“The book over there, did you make it?” He alternates between you and the book and glisters his pearly whites. He delicately hauls it to you, “I was going to wait for it to be done, but you can read it now if you want.” You hesitate. You aren’t sure if you want to read it. Regardless, you ferry it in your arms, hefty despite being incomplete. 

You unfurl the cover. 

Page after page, your pulse pumps sonorously in your ears, uncontrollable where goosebumps surge through ebbing limbs. Without a doubt, you’re frightened. Aghast, gaping mouth with eyes the size of dinner plates. Dating from your first encounter, poems and chaotic paragraphs of infatuation. Your sleeping silhouette, columns of reverence, strands of your hair taped like art—pictures of you you’ve never seen taken behind cars and lamp posts.  

The lengthy muddled captions emphasize how beautiful you are, how gracious you must be, because he hadn’t met you yet. On top of it all, written repeatedly in red and smothered in hearts, “I love you (Y/N)”. You don’t want to hold it. It’s broiling on your palms; you want it thrown in fire and scorched to shriveling. It almost reads as a manifesto, with jumbled threats sprinkled above overriding ink. Brutal crimes he’d commit if you were ever harmed, the gory actions he envisioned doing to your male customers. It’s incoherent and unorganized. The last page you flip to etches drought in your throat; A dried scrap of the towel you used to tend to his injury is taped inside. A new entry: 

“ (Y/N) takes care of me! without her I am nothing  my sun and star        ♡    my blood and bone           ♡  ♡ my goddess, my angel,   the very essence of my existence     ♡        ♡     my love is infinite and eternal   you are destined to be mine   ♡     ♡        forever, forever she is mine ”  

You peek up from the book, not prepared to face the source. Ajax ogles you with heart eyes that can’t contemplate the absurdity. They surround you, limit you from speaking undulating panic. Part of you is fearful, the other reserves pure love you still have for him.  

“Do you like it, honey?” No, you hate it. It’s scary and not the man you fell in love with. But those sonnets and odes dripping in honey—descriptions that trickle raw vulnerability and expose his truest intentions—are hard to detest when he treasures you earnestly. His expression, he��ll shatter to flecks if you devastate him. So, you scrape back the bile and oblige a strained smile. 

“I love it, Ajax. Thank you.” 

You’re excited to be at work, and relieved to see Lyney. His banter distracts you from the overbearing air at home. Ajax proceeds like nothing happened, or at least nothing for him. It’s fresh in your mind, torments your thoughts as you get ready for the day. His bare chest hugs you from behind while your brush your teeth and he trails groggy kisses from your shoulder to your jaw. It leaves heat on your ears, and dread in your stomach. The necklace going around you is a cage. 

Closing arrives, and you start wrapping things up. 

“Could you get the dark roast box?” Lyney asks from the bookshelf. 

“Heard” you reply, strolling to storage to find that unnamed box squeezed beside larger product. Balancing the contents, you swing open the door, and let out a gasp to your shock. 

“(Y/N)!” Hollers from the dining area. Collei, Tighnari, and astoundingly, Zhongli swarm near Lynette and Freminent. They’re removing their sweaters, but you don’t give Collei or Tighnari time before you charge at them with an immovable hug.  

“Tiggy, Collei! Oh my god!” She welcomes your embrace, and you hear a labored sigh from Tighnari as he tries to pry your arms. “You might fracture my ribs if you keep hugging so tight.” Collei chuckles, and you break the reunion. “I missed you so much!” she bubbles, practically doing happy feet to exert her enthusiasm. You move to Zhongli and greet him with a lukewarm “Hello.” 

Zhongli, your college boyfriend. The terms you ended on were neither good nor bad. He was a cold selfish player, who wanted to have his cake and eat it too. Unfortunately, he got clumsy with the surplus of women he juggled, and you found out you were a number among many. You shed misery in front of his dorm room, and he stilled a detached glare whilst you shouted through its paper-thin halls with unfiltered rage. It was one of the worst moments of your life. A couple years down the line, and you’ve learned to forgive him for his disrespectful, arrogant attitude.  

“You look well” he charms with silky bass. “I am.” 

The couple hours you spend catching up and playing board games goes fluently. Tighnari, Lynette, and Freminent rib about the rules they established mid-way through their card game, and you and Collei sit enchanted by the cozy villager simulation on her handheld console. One of her legs is on top of yours, and you’re leaning in her space. Zhongli can’t catch your sight, purposely projecting louder than usual as he enjoyed a drink made by Lyney. 

“She’s so cute! What’s that one called?” 

“Merengue, she’s my favorite.” 

“Hope Merengue helps you with your PhD thesis” Tighnari intrudes, followed by an annoyed sigh at the “+2” card Freminent puts down. 

“Ugh, don’t remind me!” 

“I didn’t know you were going for a PhD, that’s great” you praise. 

“I guess you wouldn’t know, since you don’t bother to call. Had to find out how you’re doing from Lyney” he jokes. You tilt your head. “Me? You have me blocked on everything.” 

“You don’t come up for me either. I’ve tried calling you a few times, but it went to voicemail. I assumed you had a new phone” Collei supports. You reply with a dry chuckle, and navigate accounts you blocked, evidence they were restricted. It concludes with blank lists where their names should appear. Nothing, not even a way to add them again. This whole ordeal makes you feel like you’re going crazy. You feel bile filling the chambers of your throat, accompanied by a distinct unsettling swell on your temples. Collei notices your furrowed brows and rubs your back. 

“Is everything alright?” Her voice is removed from static hammering your eardrums. 

“Uh, y-yes. I need some water.” You move to the register, where Lyney is wiping down the counter. He slides you a water bottle from the mini fridge. “Don’t throw up, I just cleaned this.” 

“I’ll do my best” you retort. He slants to you, whispering, “Sorry about Zhongli, they didn’t tell me he was tagging along.” You wave it off and take a swig.  

“We gotta talk later. You were right...he’s hiding something.” He gives a comforting nod, and a slender hand enters your peripheral vision.  

“You mind making another, Lyney?” 

“God, you’re insatiable” he complains, and takes Zhongli’s cup for a refill.  

“You both did an outstanding job with the café. It’s homely.” You snort, head resting on your hand. “Is that your way of saying it’s shit?” 

Zhongli frowns, “I’m being serious, I’m proud of what you’ve done here.” 

“Interesting. I’m surprised this isn’t a downgrade to you.” 

“Anything you contribute to is an automatic upgrade.” That sad attempt at flirtation makes you scoff. “Guess your post-college affairs aren’t as frequent if you’re stooping this low.” Maybe you weren’t over it completely. 

“How many times must I apologize?” 

“Until you die.” 

“I’m willing to do that, as many times as it takes.”  

You huff, “It doesn’t matter, Zhongli. I’m in a relationship.” 

“Are you happy?” You don’t have a quip for that question, and it rains on your emotions when you consider it. A flower struggles to bloom through intense downpours. 

“Of course I am.” His smile is frail, and he places a mellow hand on your shoulder. “Then he has all he could ever ask for.”  

The door abruptly opens. Collei’s holding it, and behind it, is Ajax. Dire tension hangs in the air, arid like the anticipation of disaster. Faint smirk and murky glower; the swirling spiral coaxes the same fear you felt last night, and the previous days. His face can’t decide what demeanor to convey, it forces gladness where darkness veils his stare. You tread away from Zhongli, praying he didn’t see the hand that was on you moments ago. Your friend's wave, but he doesn’t return the friendly gesture, instead firing a shaded cast of disgust. He saunters to you with wrenched posture, and each step makes your heart race. 

“Sweetheart, you didn’t answer the phone. I was worried.” He guides you to him by your lower waist. Zhongli watches as Ajax kisses the corner of your mouth, and you beam from the one that tickles your nose. “’M sorry, not feeling so good.” 

“You didn’t tell me you’d be at a party.” 

“It was a surprise.” 

“Ah, I see. These are your friends?” he asks, as if he doesn’t know. 

“Yeah, from back home.” 

“Hello” Zhongli chimes in, holding out his hand to shake. Ajax methodically turns his head to him. You swear you see a vein popping out of his forehead, a splitting stress on his teeth. “Who are you.” 

“Zhongli, I’m an old friend of hers from college. We had a few classes together.” 

“...Friend” he mocks with rictus, “I’ve never heard your name before.” 

“Emphasis on '’old’. I figured I’d stop by since everyone else was here, it’d be a shame to waste such lovely weather-” 

“You talk a lot” he states monotone. Zhongli sneers, “Some may say. I’m quite talkative during social gath-” 

“So shut the fuck up.” The room hushes. You feel the witnesses shrinking themselves at the crushing tension.  

“Excuse me?” 

“Why were you touching her.” He’s jittery, suppressing the turbulent urge shredding through him.  

“I didn’t realize she was your ‘property’” Zhongli scolds. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” You put yourself between them, splaying your fingers across Ajax’s chest. His mood switches easily at your expecting gaze. “Ajax, baby, I’m tired. Can we go home now?” He pauses for a final glare at Zhongli. 

“Of course. Let’s go.” 

You breathe a sigh of relief and hold onto his arm as you storm out of the coffeehouse, no time for goodbyes from your friends. You center on leashing Ajax home. Blocks down, you hear the far-off patter of footsteps on stone getting louder. It’s too dinning to ignore, and as you turn around your free arm is snatched by Zhongli. You shriek, “(Y/N), wait, don’t go yet-” 

Whack! His head flies back and pushes him off balance before his feet find stability. It happens so fast, and you look at Ajax, who has a most terrifying dusk pouring on his livid features. Blood gushes from Zhongli’s nose, but he straightens up tall with his fists held in front of him. Ajax cackles, and jabs between the fists that barely have time to block. His movements are fluid, swinging effortlessly after they fall to his sides. Zhongli paces back, and Ajax charges towards him with quick solid blows that make his loafers scratch on the pavement. He plants a mean gut punch to his torso, and Zhongli doubles over until Ajax punches him in the eye with steel knuckles. He collapses, but his fighting hands linger, any chance to defend himself against your merciless boyfriend. That is, until Ajax sits above him, and begins beating him to a pulp. 

Whack! Whack! Whack! His hits are thundering and vicious, tracking blood to his skin from the momentum. You feel lost to time, lost on what to do to save this situation. It sounds like bone swimming in curdling clots and makes you sick. You dive to Ajax, gone by the dead visage. You snake your arms around his waist.  

“Ajax! Please stop!” you scream at the top of your lungs. It falls on deaf ears, but you continue to scream. You’re sobbing into his back and yelling to a hoarse end, when suddenly the punches stop. He gets off Zhongli mechanically and braces your faint legs to rise. It’d be wholesome if not for the blood splattering his hands. He notices your tears and wipes them away, streaking faint blood across your cheek. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. I’m here now.” 

The entire walk home, he’s silent. You hate it when he’s silent. There are cuts spread over his hands and blood steadily runs from the top lip to his swollen bottom lip. He stares off in the distance, concentrated on something—rage, anger—stirring in his cotton-filled brain. You can't read him, and you wonder if you ever had that privilege. 

The pieces come together themselves in a puzzle you unconsciously rejected. You can’t recall the last time you spoke to your parents. His ability to know your favorite meals without talking or gifting you outstanding presents that surfaced memories you’d long forgotten. Collei, Tighnari, Lyney, it’s unmistakable. You beg to be naïve again, hopelessly in love and enraptured.  

You’d rather keep your eyes shut. The sinister rampage spilling out of him is miles apart from the Ajax who serves you breakfast in bed every day and places soft kisses on your body from head to toe. Love is enough, and you know how much he does to show it. Was there another way? Is it your fault this happened? You can’t focus either or organize your jumbled thoughts, and find yourself searching for reassurance within him, any inkling of affection to prove he still loves you. When you sheepishly reach out to grab his wounded hand, he curls around it, and the thump in your heart reignites. A pulse loud enough to subside the dread clamoring in your feet, warning you to run. 

You make it home, and Ajax goes to the kitchen sink to wash away his crimes. He watches red cyclone down the drain, and you lean on a counter close to him. 

“Ajax?” 

“Yea?” he chirps.  

“Zhongli...will he be okay?” you meek. 

“Mhm. I didn’t kill him.” The matter-of-fact reply renders a shudder in your bones.  

“Is something wrong?” The kitchen is small, and from the way you’re standing you’ve closed yourself off to him. 

“No baby,  nothings….nothings wrong” he says, that convincing tone, smooth like satin. 

“But I’m worried. You’ve never acted like this before, tell me what’s on your mind.” He shuts off the water, and the cylindrical pull seeps a guttural groan. He grips the granite, and even that seems to deform. He finally turns to you, a hurt expression colliding with fiendish somber eyes and taut lips. 

“Am I not good enough for you?”  

“You are more than enough” you hearten. Ajax rebuttals a bitter laugh and spouts the candor he’d been gnawing on. 

“I tried. I tried ignoring your kindness. I tried being pitiful, hurting myself so that your eyes were only on me”, he creeps towards you, and your feet move on their own backpedaling. The echo of his self-inflicted scar produces beads of sweat, distracting so that the back of the wooden chair presses into your back and you almost topple over. Nowhere to go, and now he overshadows you with delicate fingertips slithering across your paling cheeks and behind your jaw, “but you’re surrounded by love. People love you.” 

His words drag and descend further, “Ohh, and it’s not fair at all.” 

“Why are they allowed your attention. It should be me. Only me. Don’t you want me?” Laced with love, but you can’t taste it. His dilated orbs ping-pong as they scan your face for confirmation. You bring your palms over his and muster fading courage in timid waves. 

“I love you Ajax. So, so much. But the way you’re acting scares me. It’s my fault and I could’ve gone home, but I haven’t seen them in a long time. I didn’t think things would end up like this.” He pauses, and engulfs you in an ardent embrace, his hand on the back of your head and another on your lower back. Oh, sweetie muffles through strands of your hair as he sways your bodies. You’re mannequin-like in his stifling sight. 

“Nononono, it’s not your fault honeypot. You’re too pure for this world, so kind without thinking. So perfect” he mumbles, absurd drivel seeping through the coherent parts in formidable notes—how he loves you, needs you, can’t live without you— “but they’re leeches. They try to taint you, show you horrible, disgusting things. That piece of shit was looking at me, he was asking for a fight. And he tried to put you in the middle. You could’ve gotten hurt, or God know what. I’ll protect you, my sweet, at any cost." 

“Ajax, I don’t need your protection.” It’s silent, profound when he retracts. You forget how to breathe or talk as he slides to your shoulders and holds them in place. His voice lowers. 

“You don’t need…me?” 

“No, that’s not what I’m saying-” 

“So let me help, let me be yours” he pleads. You don’t respond—you can’t. Each explanation you formulate sticks to the roof of your mouth and swells like a spell drunk in your throat. Ajax tenses, clinging to your skin. He reflects on a thought, and it blooms with a twinkle. 

“What if I just...lock you up?” 

“...What?” you say, hardly above a whisper. It’s arid to swallow, and shivers ripple under sweltering heat prickling your limbs. 

“I wouldn’t put you anywhere bad. It’d be a pretty place; I’ll take good care of you like I always do. Wouldn’t you like that?” He has a hopeful grin on his face, and when he lets you go for a second you jerk away from his reach. Your back hits the opposite wall, nauseous and lightheaded, shaking your head aggressively to push away the existence of the idea. He wrenches his neck, and you glimpse the deluded flush on his face. “No... I’m not gonna do that.” 

“Ah, sweetheart, I know it sounds scary. Can we try it first?”  

“You’re not gonna put me in some fucking cage like an animal” you assert. His eyebrows furrow, offended at your assumption that he’d trap you somewhere unpleasant. 

“I’d never do that to you. I love you.” He inches towards you, and you inch farther. The keys are in front of him, you can’t leave on your own. The steps you take feel critical. 

“Let’s sleep on it, we can discuss in the morning.” No. No no no no. You pan to the staircase, and Ajax curiously watches your paranoid glances. Before he can grab you, you sprint for the stairs. Wind travels in your ears and settles at your graceless movement catching hold of the banister, leverage used to leap. Adrenaline flows steadily in your veins, and your senses feel muddled to mush, focused on pushing your legs to proceed. There’s no room for thinking past the will of your body. You hear airy tsks coming from the dining room, and a singsong “Don’t make me chase you, baby.” 

Suddenly, the creaking floorboards succeed at a roaring parade marching behind you. Closer and closer, a sound you didn’t know he possessed. You don’t dare turn around; the squeak waltzes with your deafening heartbeat. You change direction, making haste to the peaceful bedroom you share, now eroding under his hearty stomps. You clash with the door, and barge in. Slamming it shut, your shaky hands promptly lock the knob. Ajax stops in front of the door and lets his fingertips dance along the wood, “Open the door, please.” 

The knob shakes aggressively, rattling in the socket and threatening to pop. It’s pulling against the edges of the door that rive at his harsh yanks. He perpetually pulls and twists it, “Darling, c’mon open the door, my sweet.” You’re sure if you don’t, he’ll axe his way through instead.  

“Please let me in, baby. Please, I’m dying without you.” 

“I don’t wanna fight anymore... please”, his tone barely lifts above the depth of wood, but you hear the faulty voice keeling in cracks. You know you shouldn’t open the door, but his sorrow beckons you as it often does. He wails so hopelessly, as if you’re punishing him for an unavoidable inevitable. It’s an innocent sob peerless to the ruthless violence he displayed hours before; the harrowing glare of the man you thought you knew was all too terrifying. But he’d never do that to you, would he? You’re his darling sweetheart, his infinity now and forever. You filled his divergent heart and sutured it anew. He needs you.  

Though your hands fidget to stay at their sides from common sense tucked in a forgone crevice of your headache, you force your hand up, and turn the knob. Maybe you should’ve never let him into the shop on that cold night, instead bidding him farewell and trudging in the snow to your crumby apartment. You’d continue running the shop as usual with Lyney. Things would’ve been different, wouldn’t have been so complicated to cut loose from tangling lies knotting the more he consumed you.  

But no, that couldn’t have happened. He would find you, it’s destiny that you’d never part. Stalking in bushes and narrow alleyways until the perfect moment he could walk towards you and catch your eye again, and you’d fall for another pass of courting words.  

Ajax stands there with sparkling sadness streaming down his cheeks that mingle with his quivering lips. He drops to his knees instantly in prayer and looks up at you with doey puffy eye bags that nearly make you overlook everything, about Zhongli, about the red flags that grow green the more you squint. It’s just you and him, that’s all it had to be. In times like these you reminisce about the sweet boy you cuddled and confided in, and things feel as they were. The messy-haired Ajax you remember pulls your lower half close to him with large hands that latch onto your waist the more you adjust. His face is mushed to merging in your stomach, and he sighs heavily, taking in your scent like the last breath he’ll ever have. They snake around you, and you meet eyes again. “I don’t want you to be afraid of me. I love you angel. So much I’d rip my heart out and put it in your hands…. you control me” Desperation clings to Ajax, and you urge to console him. You intertwine your fingers through his hair. 

“Ajax, this can’t happen again. Okay?” you caution, a warning dripping with compassion. 

“Mhm. Okay.” Unexpected warmth blooms over his cold aura, but the light doesn’t reach his eyes. His hands travel the contours of your hips and thighs, occasionally squeezing with an appreciative huff. He parts your legs and dips to your inner thighs to mold the doughy fat as his lips traverse your lower abdomen, decorating it with wanton kisses. “Love you so much” he utters. His touch is impassioned and fluid, he softens underneath your bottom and circles his thumb like a masseur. Ajax takes his time navigating your sensitive points, and switches between fluffy and solid pressure that licks down your back.  Skin to skin contact wasn’t enough, he wanted to crawl in your ribcage and live in your lungs so he could sense your steady breaths. He wanted to bask in your existence, feel the radiance of your touch and ethereal voice curl and melt into him, to make him nothing and all in your eyes. 

Your digits tangle in his hair, and when he nips your tummy, you tug his scalp. “Fuck” Ajax groans, strained through his lips. The peachy wash draping his cheeks is cherubic, appeased by the rhythmic kneading. One hand slinks under your shirt and guides a fingertip vertically on your spine, the other sculpts your rear. It’s dizzying how easy it is for Ajax to captivate you, a trance that turns your knees to jelly and leaves you at his mercy. You ignored the impulse igniting your muscles to push him off. You want him closer, suffocating you so deep the clouds of his scent dismantle your fear. You take his chin and redirect his attention, and he waits for order like a loyal dog.  

“Ajax.” 

“Whatever you want, princess” he toys, that boyish simper releasing butterflies through your body. 

“I want you.” He hoists you up without a word and carries you to the bed. He brings you down, a priceless vase above the pillowy cushioned bedding. “You comfortable?” You nod, blushing from the way Ajax gawks at your half-hiked shirt, and shorts hanging low on your hips. “Good.” He’s breathless, restraining his impulse to pounce and devour you. No matter how restive he was, Ajax usually prevented himself from indulging beyond your comfort; but tonight is different. It's starving while a succulent meal taunts you, only satiated by the sight of it. He hastily removes his shirt and pants, freckled muscles flexing as he discards them to the floor. It’s hard to avoid the growing spot staining his stretched white briefs. Spreading your legs, he crawls between them. He regards you for a second, but when you reach behind his head he plunges into a longing kiss.  

A longing kiss followed by hungrier ones. It’s abruptly rough and needy against your bruising lips, some skimming the corner of your mouth and tracking to the main course. He frees you for a breather, but the space doesn’t subdue the dull ache thrumming in your core. His nose brushes against yours, and you pull his flyaways back to get the full scale of his feral demeanor, sweating and reddening in the unshakable heat.  

You collide again, hands behind your head through the wild exchange. You can’t keep up; he bites your bottom lip and relieves it with the glide of his tongue. Your slow and steady lover begs for entry with a ravenous push, and you allow it to ruin you. The wet appendage invades your senses, explores your mouth in nonsensical shapes and withdraws with a filthy sound before returning. “So. Fucking. Good” he exhales through your intertwining tongues. You’re moaning into each other, lasting in the moment, forgetting everything. His hips start to grind against you, practically dry humping your clothed lower half. You wrap your legs around him and steer his twitching length to roll into you, nudging the inseam of your shorts to your neglected clit. He engulfs your moans, and retreats with strings of spit connecting your tumid lips. 

Ajax descends to your neck, and places damp and eager kisses along it. You feel the piercing remnant of a bite accompanied by sucking. His fangs pinch and snag and make you whimper. A budding purple and blue blend blotches to your collarbone--draining you like a vampire. His hands stay busy committing your curves to memory in greedy gropes. Ajax doesn’t notice his low rambling, “yea, you’d never leave me, right? I’m all you need”, to “you're mine.” It’s overstimulating, and so is the hammering pulse in your clit.  

Your abused neck is exposed to the delicious sweep of cold air, and he hurries to your shirt. In one swoop, it comes off with the impatient unclasp of your bra. He submerges a stiff peak in warmth while he works the other. His tongue swirls around the nipple, pushing in with a stiff tip and trading it for sucking. It elicits a moan where teeth graze and tweak the bud. “My pretty girl” he murmurs and delivers attention to the next. Ajax massages your spit-soaked tits firmly and diligently in fondling motions. His passion renders him shameless, and it encourages you to fold. You find yourself swerving your hips to his bulge to goad his thirst. He responds with languid nudging, and glances at the space inside your shorts, coated with slick film from your panties. Whine caught in his throat, he salivates and unconciously holds your legs apart. You impel him downwards, and he nuzzles the line to the hem of your shorts.  

“Can I taste you, princess?” It had to be hypothetical, since he was already unbuttoning them with his teeth and tearing them off. “Please?” he pants, a half-lidded mess itching to immerse in your desire. Before you can answer, a rrrip shreds through the room; the culprit of your mangled underwear remains, and you shriek. “Ajax!” you scold, but he’s not bothered when he rips the rest of it to display your arousal. “I’ll get you new ones, I’ll buy you the whole store” he sighs, forcing your thighs rearwards with his hands. He angles himself like a sniper and submerses in your pussy. 

Ajax doesn’t rush, he lazily trails his tongue around the outside and plays with the folds shlicking against him. He outlines the clit and meticulously weaves his skillful tongue, caring for the spots that make your back arch; paying special attention to your entrance, as he teasingly delves in just enough to coax a moan, then laps a flat tongue over your wetness. Ajax’s  ministrations are torturous, rapturing all while ignoring your release. He parts the labia and plashes the juices covering his chin and glossy lips. Your heart is in your ears, winding and coiling at the flicks of his tongue, his fingertips forging red indents on your thighs. Ajax begins to rock himself into the mattress, a fleeting friction comforting his sore erection. His leisurely grinding matches the pace of his mouth making out with your pussy. Mmmf he groans, and the vibrations oscillate. He gently slurps your lips, gasping for another mouthful and lapping at your clit. Your back levitates, and you tug his scalp. It only earns another growl, and faster swipes over the sensitive bud. 

“O-oh fuck” you moan, watching Ajax lose his composure and rut himself into the bed like an animal. He’s panting with a quiver, whimpering some rendition of your name until he sputters. He jolts from the material emptying his balls and soaking the sheets, but his energy doesn’t deplete—It seems to motivate him as he hoists you to his mouth. Ajax always prioritizes your pleasure, but it’s difficult to stop him once he’s invested. And he isn’t done feasting, sloppily eating you up with little concern for your fluttering senses. He rides out his orgasm and brings you to yours, and you hardly realize the intoxicating slide over your clit spelling his name. Ajax, Ajax, Ajax, marked into you; It brings you to a chant as you come undone. Ajax doesn’t waste a drop, avidly cleaning up the juices pulsating out. “Thank you, fuck, thank you so much” he whispers. He swills the bud, and you spasm and squirm from ecstasy in his iron grip. “Ajax, p-please.” 

“I got you.” He gives one last French kiss before exiting tranquility. A combination of spit and arousal blankets his mouth, and he smiles like the happiest man alive. “You okay?” Not a thought in fruition, tender mellowness smothering you. You wince from the prolonged position, and he immediately puts you on your side.  

“Need to feel you.” He wrings his underwear down, and reveals his pulsing shaft adorned with beads of come dribbling down the rosy pale tip. He’s above you, trapping one leg over his shoulder, and aligns himself with your sex. “Perfect tits, perfect pussy. You’re so beautiful, all for me.” The bulb slips in effortlessly, and he sighs at the muscle clenching around him. Each inch drives seamlessly into you, stretching your unadjusted frame. He lulls on your ankle, absorbed by the coziness enveloping the base until he bottoms out. Then it’s unmoving. Agonizing, even, the way you feel him twitch inside. “Y-you can move now.” 

“Let’s just stay like this for a little.” He rubs your leg, savoring the serene patter of rain smacking the wide windows and toasty light dusting your dazed appearance. It’s intimate and placid minus the rise and fall of your bodies, and you’re surprisingly shy. You rush to cover your face, but Ajax grabs you. “Don't hide, pretty girl. You’re stunning” he flirts, kissing your hand. 

“Do you love me?” His blinks are exaggerated, confused that you’d ask such an obvious question. 

“Of course.” 

“What do you love about us?” He brings your hand to his cheek. “You complete me. You’ve forgiven me, loved me, and accepted me for who I am. I can be open around you.” He kisses your wrist, silken as to quell the trivial thoughts resurfacing. 

“I’ll love you until the end. I’ll find you in the next life and start all over, even when this universe collapses. I won’t let anyone get in our way, so love me forever.” Ajax pulls out to the tip, and you whine at the loss of wholeness. Then, he drives his sticky cock unhurriedly to the hilt. You mewl, and he palms your chest. “Shh, ‘s okay.” The milky translucent trail links you and erupts obscene syrupy noises. “What are you thinking for baby names?” You can’t focus, the swinging strokes graze your g-spot. You’d say anything to him at this point; you need him deeper. He casually thumbs your clit and continues at a sluggish tempo. “I really like the name Aleksei” In and out, veins embellishing your walls. You meet his thrusts and shudder, though he stops occasionally to redirect the sopping length. 

“A-ahn, you’re so wet, it keeps slipping out” he moans. He picks up the speed, squelching stirring with whimpers. “I love you, honeypot. Sosososo fucking much, just wanna breed this pretty pussy every second of the day. Ah- you wanna be a mommy, yeah? We can have a big family, hah, just you me and the kids. Wouldn’t you like that, darling?” He’s drilling into you, stuffed to bursting. You feel yourself approaching and seize his wrist. “’M close!” 

“Give it to me, fuck, please” Ajax whines, and you climax under him, juices saturating his balls. You don’t get time to recover; he fucks you through your orgasm. You’re reeling, clawing at his forearm when he puts you flat on your back. “Wanna come inside. Can I, please? I want it so bad” he pleads. He adjusts you to a mating press with brute force, and plummets inside.  

It’s vicious, staggering plap’s and squelching audible from outside. The headboard bangs on the wall while he pummels your pussy. A sheen of lust shrouds his eyes, and his heavy balls smack against your ass as he wrecks you. More, more, more drowns him in senseless fucking, precome frothing at the base. You convulse around him, and he burrows full throttle. When his tongue finds yours, you interweave through the sloppy pumps. His balls tighten, and he chases his high frenetically bobbing. “O-oh, fuck, you’re gonna make me come.” Harsher, meaner strokes hit you quick, and Ajax melts into endless whimpers striking his climax. Ropes of thick white paint your insides, teeming to globs where they crowd your pussy and leak to your ass. Ajax bucks into you, and you milk him dry. The shakes eventually stop, and he goes limp on top of you. You feel him softening, his steady inhale. He smiles at you, showering you with affection you couldn’t resist.  

“I should use the bathroom” you suggest, patting his back as a signal to get off. “Sure. Wait here, I’ll get you cleaned up.” He returns after an eternity, with cloudy water and a tepid towel. 

“Here, drink this.” You take the cup and sip. Ajax tips it a bit, urging you to gulp. He wipes you down lovingly while you swallow the contents. He disregards your vulva, however, collecting the come on his fingers and pushing it in. Oddly, you’re leaden—insanely leaden, so much so that your head tilts to one side and threatens to give up entirely. Your knees are wobbly, and your bones are lost in a dreamlike state. Ajax passes the towel under your chest.  

“You know, I didn’t feel bad about it, when I strung his guts across the wall. I only thought of you.”  

No. It can’t be true. 

You can’t scream or fight, and simply gape at the words hulking through your numbed rationale. The towel cools your sweat, but the fear persists.  

“I met him behind your complex. He was bitching about rent, sleazy fucking scum. I asked him if you live there, and he went on a rant about it. Saying nasty stuff no one should ever say about you. I couldn't help it, (Y/N), I had to see his organs carved out of his body.” Your jackhammering heart doesn’t compare to your sloth behavior. You want to run, move in with your parents again and pretend; pretend like your life hasn’t been propelled into disarray, pretend that the ginger boy caressing your face didn’t butcher a man.  

“Ajax, let me go” you cried, a teardrop coursing across your temple. He wipes it, “I’m not holding you, dear. You can’t stand on your own right now, but the effect will wear off after you sleep. Rest for now, okay sweetie?” 

“What did you put...in my...” You’re swooning, ferried by the effect of the unknown medicine sprinkled in your cup. With no will to combat, your eyes reluctantly close. His pupils are desolate and obscure, the night of a severe blizzard. 

“I’m sorry, but I won’t make the same mistake twice.” 

tags: @zhochikennugget (if anyone else would like to be tagged, dm and i'll tag you on the next one :)

[lebbys-world]

Secrets, Soba, & Smiles

Todoroki x gn!reader; teenagers in love, fluff, reader gets caught off guard a bit

notes: thanks for all the love on my last post :) im glad that so many people enjoyed my writing !! the kitchen scene is very artem from tot coded, which makes sense bc ive been obsessed with that game recently. anyways, hope you enjoy !! <3

You peered down the hall, checking to make sure it was clear, before walking towards the elevator.

The soft hum of the door opening led you to walk inside, pressing the button for the fifth floor.

You looked down at your phone to check the time, quickly noticing you’d received a follow up text from your boyfriend.

Before leaving your dorm, you had sent him a message letting him know you were about to be on your way up. 

You smiled to yourself as the elevator made its way up the floors, shooting him back a quick reply.

More often than not, you found yourselves having these late-night dorm dates as a means to compensate for the lack of public relationship.

Throughout the school day, you two were just seen as close friends, allowing any suspicions to just be laughed off. After all, there was no sense in blatantly lying about your relationship to your friends.

But if you both feigned ignorance, it managed to keep their suspicions at bay. 

With all earnest, you weren't necessarily trying keeping your relationship with the icy-hot boy a secret from your peers.

You never had concern for them finding out - albeit the barrage of questions and attention may be a bit overwhelming.

If anything, the concern you had was for the general public finding out that two rising heroes had feelings for one another.

You feared the worst case scenario: a villain using your adoration for each other as a weapon.

Maybe you were overreacting, but the nightmare situation it was, you wanted to prevent it in any way you could. So, as a safeguard, the both of you had agreed to just keep things to yourself.

This agreement worked well anyways, as you and Todoroki settled into the awkward ins-and-outs of first time teenage love.

So, yes, for now, things were okay being a sort of ‘secret’.

It was a secret for you two to share.

You were his, and he was yours.

The elevator door opened once more as you reached the fifth floor, stepping out into a familiar, yet different, hallway.

You made your way to your boyfriend’s room, before giving a gentle knock on the door.

Soon enough, the doorknob turned, the door creaked open, and heterochronic eyes met your own. 

You laughed to yourself before commenting, “well, I made it here in one piece.”

He gave you a soft smile back, “yeah, you did.”

That was the smile that always managed to killed you.

A smile that you never saw him quite show to anyone but you.

The way his lips turned in adoration, a genuine love and joy meeting his face. His eyes would crease with that smile, and, every time, without fault, you’d melt at that smile.

It was a smile that felt like it was only for you.

Interrupting your star-struck daze, Todoroki tilted his head.

“I meant to tell you before you got here, but I still wanted to grab some snacks from the common room.”

You stood up straight, pulling yourself back together.

“Oh, I could’ve just picked them up on the way.”

“It’s not a problem; I’ll just go now. You can set your stuff down. I'll be back shortly."

He started walking past you to begin his quick mission, when you followed on his heels. 

“I’ll come with you! Two people are better than one!”

He paused, gave a nod of appreciation, and the two of you carried on towards the main floor.

The short trip there was spent debating what snacks would be best for this late night excursion, with you insisting that your favorite food was the only way to go.

By the time you'd made it to the kitchen, Todoroki had been pleading his case for soba - per usual.

“Look,” he said, now pointing to a something sat on the shelf of the pantry. “They still have some left over. We could probably make two servings.”

He met your eyes with diligence, looking like a young child begging for a toy at the store.

As much as your favorite snack was calling your name, you thought to yourself that maybe some cold soba would be nice as well. 

“Fine, but I’m making the sauce.” You sighed, accepting his pleas. I mean, how could you not when he had given you such a cute look?

He smiled, his invisible tail practically wagging as he pulled out a pot and began to fill it with water. 

Nearby, you opened up the fridge and pulled out a few ingredients to start making into a light sauce.

You swiftly put on an apron, and started mixing things together before feeling complete with your makeshift recipe.

You took a spoon and dipped it in, giving it a taste. Having it meet your own liking, you called your boyfriend over, making sure it would suit his taste as well.

Continuing to stir, you thought to yourself how something about this unplanned cooking trip had just felt so right

It was almost as if you two were a married couple, working on making dinner together after a long day of work.

The idea made you blush.

Deep inside, these calm nights were the kind you hoped the future would bring many more of.

You were about to turn around and call to him again when you were suddenly met with two arms wrapped around your waist.

You let out a small gasp of surprise as Todoroki took the spoon from your hand, following through on your request and trying the dipping sauce you had made.

He hummed a tone of satisfaction and let his head rest atop your shoulder. 

“It’s really good, Y/N. Thank you, for your help.”

At that moment, you thanked God that your boyfriend couldn't see your overwhelmingly red face.

You doubt you would’ve even been flustered if Todoroki wouldn’t have pulled that hugging-you-from-behind cliché.

I mean, heck, he probably didn't even realize he was doing something that even could catch you so off guard.

Your boyfriend probably just thought he was hugging you, sharing his adoration for your cooking and determination.

And here you were, heart going overdrive all over his simple motions.

Having felt your heart rate spike, he let go after a moment, returning back to the care of draining the pot of soba. 

You took a moment and collected yourself a bit, finally giving a delayed reply:

“Yeah, anytime, Sho. It’s what I’m here for.”

He looked at you again, turning his gaze away from the sink, and gave you that melting smile of his.

That smile that makes you feel like everything in the world is okay, even if just in this moment.

Somehow that smile managed to calm your panicked heart, reminding you to take this all one step at a time.

You returned his smile with your own. A smile of your own that you hoped he admired just as much as you did his.

“…”

“...SHOTO, THE SOBA-”

all fictional works are for entertainment purposes only. all rights to characters, media, references, and other third party materials belong to their respective owners. do not repurpose, modify, copy, or repost my work to other sites without permission. © @lebbys-world 2024.

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[luv4ikeuu]

Coaster Crush - Jake Sim

— ೄྀ࿐summary: your friends convince you to ride the disco pang pang. not only do you face your fear, but you see a cute boy in the process. ˊˎ-

word count: 1.7k

warnings: nothing really, if there is smth lmk!

note: if you don't know what the disco pang pang is maybe search it up before reading so you can kinda understand what's going on

The fresh nightly breeze nipped at your skin as you walked through the crowds of people in the amusement park. The bright, flashing lights of the different rides beckoned from every direction, promising an evening full of fun. The sweet, sugary scent of cotton candy and the savory aroma of pretzels wafted through the air, mixed with the sounds of excited screaming, loud pop music, and laughter.

"Guys!" Hanni exclaimed, her voice full of enthusiasm. "How about the Disco Pang Pang?" Danielle's eyes lit up, squealing with excitement. "Oh my god! Yes, let's do it!"

You hesitated. You've always been a bit of a scaredy cat when it came to rides. Never going near the ones you deemed unsafe, the Disco Pang Pang being no exception. With its lack of seatbelts, and only a lousy rail and your own strength (or lack there of) to keep you grounded, the idea didn't seem too thrilling for you. "I don't know, guys." You muttered. Your voice laced with uncertainty as you eyed the spinning contraption.

Hanni and Danielle let out a groan. "Don't be such a buzzkill, Y/nnie!" Hanni teased, her tone light and playful. She's right, you'd hate to ruin the night for them, but.. just look at the thing!

"I'm not!" You protested. "It's just.. it doesn't exactly look the safest." Danielle rolled her eyes before pulling you towards the rides entrance.

You anxiously waited in line, observing the riders as their bodies jerked and jumped in every direction. You watched as a girl went stumbling around in the middle, looking for her seat. The operators cheeky comments only added to your uneasiness. "C'mon someone help her!" He shouted.

Poor girl.

"Maybe I'll sit this one out." You suggested, your voice slightly trembling. "Absolutely not!" Hanni declined. Her arms folded on her chest. "You have to get on it. It won't be fun without you!" Danielle chimed in with a pout to her lips. "Besides, maybe you'll find your soulmate." Hanni added with a sly smirk and a shimmy to her shoulders. You laughed, your face flushing with embarrassment. "Oh shut up!" You smiled.

You've seen the viral videos, the operator maneuvers the poor girl into the handsome strangers arms. The outcome? Well, it's usually awkward. Fun, but very, very awkward.

The ride came to a stop, the previous riders stumbled off, dizzy and giggling. "Our turn!" Danielle squealed, her eyes shining with excitement. She hastily boarded the ride, pulling you along with her.

There was no chickening out now.

As you sat down, your mind flooded with worst-case scenarios. What if you end up hurting someone? What if you fall and crack your head open? What if you fly out!? So many things could go wrong, you couldn't believe you let your friends talk you into this so easily!

Your worries momentarily faded as a group of three attractive men stepped onto the ride. The one in the back caught your attention first, with his thick eyebrows and sharp nose, his pale skin radiant under the bright neon lights. The middle one flashed a charming smile, his eyes big like a bambi. While both men were undeniably handsome, your gaze kept drifting to the boy in the front. He had boyish grin that spread ear to ear. Sparkling eyes that held a playful charm, similar to one of a mischievous puppy.

"Oh they're cute!" Hanni whispered, nudging you with her elbow. "Hanni stop!" You whispered back, trying to hide your own fascination.

The trio scanned their surrounding, looking for an empty spot big enough to fit the three of them. Finally, they settled on the other side of the disc, directly across from you.

Your eyes met his, and for a brief moment, you felt the world around you disappear. The rides music and the peoples laughter turned into background noise as you locked eyes, you exchanged a small bow before forcing yourself to look away.

"Cute!" Hanni whispers, snatching you out of your thoughts, "Oh, he's so your type!" Danielle adds, her voice barely audible over the loud music. You were quick to hush them, your face flushing with embarrassment.

Well.. they're definitely not wrong.

The rides music swelled, signaling the start of your ride. Just then, the operators voice boomed through the speakers, his enthusiastic demeanor infectious. "Alright everyone, you ready?" He asked, his tone playful. The crowd responded with a few murmurs, to which he chuckled. "Oh, tough crowd tonight." The laughter that followed calmed your nerves a bit as you found yourself smiling along with everyone else.

The operator continued, "Welcome aboard the Disco Pang Pang! As you can see, there are no seatbelts, but we do have railing for you to hold onto. So make sure you're holding on tight!" He lowered his tone dramatically, "I won't be going easy on you." His voice was full of mischief, and you couldn't help but wonder if he was being serious, or just being funny.

The operators pointing finger caught you off guard, your eyes widening in surprise when he looked you directly in the eyes. "You!" He exclaimed.

"What's your name?" He asked with a warm smile, easing your nerves.

"Y/n!"

"A beautiful name for a beautiful girl." He said with a wink. "And how old are you, Ms. Y/n?" He asked, his smile saying he had a plan up his sleeve.

Before you could answer Danielle jumped to your defense, "Hey, don't you think it's a bit rude to ask a lady her age?" The crowd snickered at her cheeky comment. "Oh, very sorry ma'am." He chuckled, his smile unwavering.

Your voice was barely audible over the music when you finally replied, "I just turned twenty!" The operators eyes lit up, "Well, happy late birthday!" He exclaimed, his smile wide and genuine. "I'm guessing those are your friends, correct?" He asked as he gestured towards Hanni and Danielle. You nodded, laughing.

"Are you single ma'am?" Hanni's bubbly voice jumped in. "Single and ready to mingle!" The crowd hollered a whooped at Hanni's remark, the operator chuckled along. "That's what I like to hear!"

With a mischievous glint in his eye, the operator searched for his next victim, his gaze scanning the ride until it landed on a new target. "And you, sir? What's your name?" he asked, his brow raised with curiosity. You followed his gaze, and you found yourself looking at the same handsome stranger who had caught your attention earlier.

He responded swiftly, voice calm and confident. "I'm Jake!" He shouted back. Is that an accent on him?

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-one!" Jake replied, his charming smile on full display. The operators smirk grew wider. "Single?" He asked, his tone cheeky. Jake only nodded with a sheepish smile.

"Well would you look at that? Looks like I've found my victims!" His smirk infectious, yet slightly menacing, hinting at the chaos that was yet to come. With the flick of a switch the ride roared to life. The music swelled, drowning out the chatter and nervous laughter.

As the ride began to spin, you felt a sense of ease, the gentle spin lulled you into a false sense of security. But before you knew it, it span faster, the lights around you blurred into vibrant streaks. Your hair whipped around your face, the wind swooshing in your ears. The rides jerky movements sent your body bouncing up and down, your stomach getting that weird feeling with each jolt. Hanni's laughter and Danielle's shrieks of delight mingled with the music, creating a chaotic symphony.

Your hair whipped around is every direction, covering your vision, so you instinctively lifted your a hand from the railing to brush it aside. But in that split second, the ride lurched forward, making you lose your grip on the railing. Sending you stumbling toward the middle of the floor.

Now you're the poor girl.

Your attempts to get back to your seat were useless due to the operator expertly controlling the ride to prevent you from going anywhere. With every wobbly step you took, he'd only jerked the ride again, sending you stumbling around like a chicken without its head.

"Go towards the handsome fella! He'll help you!" He teased, his voice cutting through the sounds of screams and laughter. Jake held an arm out, ready to catch you, "Come on! I've got you!"

You shook your head no. Your shyness held you back, unwilling to go to the arms of the handsome stranger in front of you.

"Ah don't be shy! He won't bite.. not unless you want him to" The operator chuckled. With that, he tilted the ride with violent jolts, sending you tumbling towards Jake, your body colliding with his.

Your attempts to scoot away from him were useless, every lurch of the ride making you fall right back into his embrace. His strong arm wrapped around your waist.

You both laughed nervously, your face inches apart, your hearts racing in perfect sync. The rides merciless jolts threatened to break Jake's grip, and you felt yourself slipping away, stomach lurching with each jump. "You're not holding her tight enough, Jake! She's slipping away!"

The ride spun faster, and Jake's grip tightened. You felt a rush of excitement mixed with embarrassment as the operator continued to taunt you. "Look at that! You're so cute together!"

Your heart raced with adrenaline, your laughter filling the air as you thought about the absurdity of it all. Jake's chuckle was warm and gentle, his breath caressing your skin as he held you securely against his body, his embrace surprisingly comforting despite being a stranger.

The rides chaotic motions eventually slowed down, the ride finally coming to a stop. The silence was palpable, the only sound being your ragged breaths and Jake's gentle laughter.

"That's a wrap folks!" The operator announced, cutting through the silence. "It looks like we've got a new couple on our hands." The crowd erupted into cheers and applause. You could hear Hanni's and Danielle's hollering, and even Jake's friends whistling.

Jake's eyes locked onto yours, a shy smile spreading across his face. His gaze making you feel like you were the only two people on earth. "Nice to meet you," he said, his voice low and husky, his words barely above a whisper.

Your heart skipped a beat as you smiled back, feeling a sense of comfort.

"Nice to meet you too."

[darlingofvalyria]

❝Like we're going to hustle the shit out of his brain.❞

part 01 | it's called a hustle, sweetheart

chapter summary:

[ The math is easy in Helaena's head. One brother, heartbroken and moping and in a red flag relationship redder than Mars, and one hot best friend who is definitely his type. It's 1 + 1 = 3, really. ]

[ 2,345 ] [ series masterlist ] | best friend's brother!aemond targaryen x f!reader, ft. cregan stark x f!reader & aemond targaryen x alys rivers,

contains— this is going to be comedic and stupid in its comedy, bear with me - fake dating, fwb situation, toxic on and off alysmond, no use of y/n - mentions of sexy times but no sexy times yet (it'll be coming though, so minors gtfo) - multi parts - no kings, no martyrs, no betas.

a/n— the main vibe is silly and sexy !! you're hel's hot friend !! you getting it down with cregan stark (as you should) !! dunno yet how many parts, but we vibing !! comment, reblog & like at will, mwa ♡

You and Hel watch her baby brother, Aemond of usually calm and pretty countenance, drag and wince as he took a mug of coffee- a slow, almost painful affair - mumble something, somewhat of a gratitude and an apology 2 in 1 special, and reverse drag and wince back into into the room.

It's a painful shuffle. A Michael Jackson awkward moonwalk attempt. A pitying regression from the usually very pretty boy you've made it a habit of teasing.

In the past few months, there hadn't be a lot of teasing from you.

When the door clicks, you turn to Helaena with an absurdly amused snort. "He's really such a pathetic little meow meow, huh?"

She slaps your arm. "Stop it. He's really down. Alys really did a number on him this time."

"She always seems to do a number on him every time they breakup." You fight the urge to roll your eyes, for the sake of the concerned frown on your best friend's pinched, starlight eyebrows.

After all, this isn't the first time of the very many on and off moments of the Alys and Aemond Train. You bore witness to it like you're sat in an empty cinema, popcorn stale and it hurts your jaw to chew, and the train has come unloose from the tracks about thirty minutes into the film, but the plot is predictable because it recycles.

Which makes it a garbage film you can hardly stomach, rolling your eyes and getting the fuck out of the cinema about to demand a refund.

Sure the first time, you felt bad, felt horrible for the both of them as it did seem like they loved each other. You had even commended the maturity of their decision, expressed sympathy and an even pious comments of 'but you were both so good together!'

But then the pity kind of loses its momentum when it's been the third time. The fourth. The fifth. So on and on and on...

At some point, you start thinking that maybe Aemond Targaryen— of pretty Jupiter glaze and cherry-pinched lips, a Greek god humbling at the image of Alicent Hightower and Viserys Targaryen's genes combined— third time's the charm! or fourth in Viserys' case, snort  — is kind of a masochist.

Because despite saying that they're growing toxic for each other, he comes back.

Every.

Goddamned.

Time.

The maturity made way for screaming matches, bolts of peaking jealousy, and purposeful social media posts made to hook, line, and sinker the other person— like. Gods.

There was pettiness. There was red flags. And then there was the Wikipedia page that pops up when you search 'who is the worst toxic relationship?' and it doesn't even have a paragraph. Or a sentence. Just a picture of Aemond and Alys.

If Aegon Targaryen was made of easy vices and churlish, lazy smirks— his fingers, though cold and sometimes clammy, are still nice against your shoulder when he makes lazy circles at an attempt to flirt before you laugh it off and threaten rip his balls off, because if there's a few things that piss off Helaena, it's her older brother trying to go near any of her friends —

Aemond liked it in deep, ruby-red shards of a cracked heart being put together again and again. At first with superglue. Now he was more or less going with prayers and spit.

At some point, the pity turns to amusement turns to a roll of your eyes turns to concern shifting from the young man to his sister, your best friend, left somewhat the only one left to care for her crash and burn of a baby brother.

And you know for a fact that Daeron Targaryen is a menace on a dirt bike, and yet out here, in these streets, Helaena was worrying for Aemond.

Their mother's favourite child, their grandfather's most studious, and the pride and ego of Kings Landing U Business Department.

Helaena isn't used to worrying about Aemond like this.

You're not used to Helaena worrying for Aemond like this, and the usually pretty boy you liked to tease was starting to piss you off because of it.

"Hel," you start carefully, knowing you're threading on dangerous waters. As much as Hel adored you and no matter how many times she says her brothers are idiots cut from a blended cloth of her Hightower and Targaryen roots— she was also unmistakably protective of them.

She sighs, putting down the pancake batter she was mixing, and you, who was in charge of actually frying them, turn. She had hoped to talk to Aemond when he woke up, but clearly he was still very much smashed at any attempts of comfort or reprimand, even she wasn't sure anymore.

"I know, okay?" Hel mutters. "I know it's stupid."

"It's not stupid," you rush. At her doubtful look, you insist. "It's really not. I care about the little punk too. Even though lately I kind of just... want to hang him by his boxers on the balcony... make him see reason from there."

It works, Hel laughs. Then she smirks. "That little punk is only three years younger than you and a whole foot taller, babe." Then she blinks. Eyes going wide as saucers, which would be comical if not for the fact that she looked like she got the prophecy of Bathroom Urge Number #1. "Oh gods. Oh my god!"

"...Did you poop yourself?" Her face descends into a scowl, swatting you with the bowl. You yelp, giggling. "Hey, hey! Stop- Hel, you're going to spill everywhere! You know kitchen rules! No violence near the stove!"

"I was about to say I got it, you harlot! I didn't shit myself!" But she stops pestering you with the bowl as you snort.

"Okay, one, harlot? Who are you? A medieval peasant?"

"Please. If we were in the Middle Ages, I'd be a princess."

"That's actually too true, my princess, how dare I."

Hel raises an eyebrow. "But back to point- wait, actually, damn, where were you last night?"

Helaena already knew the answer. Apart from the fact that it is a best friend's duty to be apart of every slight and win in another's life, you had used your regaling tales about Cregan Stark as a means to distract Hel from worrying about her brother every time he broke up (or her; they're very gracious to each other as they take turns in piling to this toxicity), once again, with Alys.

"At Cregan's," you respond lightly, turning to flip another pancake into an awaiting plate. You were at Cregan's last night, so you only found out about Aemond's newly- and briefly - placed single status this morning when you got into the apartment you shared with Hel. She promptly placed her brother in her room while she, seeing as you weren't in yours, slept on your bed.

"And what did you do?" She knew exactly what you did— what you both did, every time since meeting again two months ago at the bar you worked.

"I helped him, uh." You stuck your tongue out, busying yourself with breakfast to clench at an excuse. "With his taxes."

Helaena snorts. "What does taxes have anything to do with the hickies? Gods, you look like you got mauled."

You snicker, fingers briefly dancing over the blue and violet marks over your neck and collarbone. It dipped lower to your chest and thighs, but you weren't going to tell your best friend that. By her wry grin, she already knew anyway.

"Okay, okay, enough of that. You said you 'got it'? Got what? A way to stop your brother's toxic relationship with the very hot older woman that we all known and adore as Alys Rivers?"

"Yes!" Then she hesitates. "But... are you and Cregan...?"

"What? No! I told you." You roll your eyes. "It's just a thing with us. We're both single, not really ready for the dating scene. He broke up with a serious relationship not long ago, he's not ready for it, and I'm sorry, but unlike your brother, is dealing healthily with it."

"With you."

"With me, yes." You shrug, turning off the stove once you've scraped the entire bowl. "So no, we're not in a relationship. But what's your plan got to do with my amazing- and frequent - sex life?"

"And you're sure you don't like him like that?"

You roll your eyes. Hard. "Yes, my royal pain the ass, I am."

Before you can react, Helaena has grasped you by your arms, watery lavender eyes wide and begging.

"Hel, I love you, but I don't like you like that."

"I love you too and same, no, no—"

"What do you mean 'no, no'? That is so offensive—"

"—I mean Aemond."

"I don't really love your brother either, though, I find him extremely pretty," you muse.

"Good! Might help with my plan!"

"What is your plan?"

"I will owe you, so, so much."

Your eyes narrow. "The fact that you're not telling it to me straight means it's a big ask, Targaryen."

As guilt flashes in her eyes, you know you're right. "So, so much. I swear. I will do your laundry— the chores! All of 'em! For a month!"

"Helaena Targaryen, I swear to the gods—"

"Canyoupleasefakedatemybrother?!"

You blink, triyng to unwound what she just spat in one exhale. "I am not fucking the sad out of your brother, that is also not healthy."

"What!? No!" Hel inhales, enunciating better now. "I said, Can you please fake date my brother? My poor, heartbroken, wonderful, you said so yourself 'very pretty', baby brother?"

She blinks, owlish and pityingly, the way you know she knows has gotten her out of a lot of messes. Has gotten her brother, Aegon, out of a lot of messes with their grandfather, who you know to be an asshole to anyone— the incident when he sideway called you a whore, still very bright in your mind; a grudge that keeps on going — but his granddaughter.

"Hel, I adore you, but that's the single most, stupidest thing I've ever heard."

"No, no, it's a lot more complicated than just you fake dating him, duh, I mean like, he knows it too! Like we're going to hustle the shit out of his brain!"

Your eyes flicker to Helaena's room where said sad sack she wants to hustle the shit out of, is in. "Elaborate."

"I meant like. Okay, so we know how this is going to go, right?" She rolls her eyes, her voice lowering to a hush, but her grip on you is just as strong. "They're broken up, he mopes around for a few days, goes to the seven stages of grief the on steroids version, making weird posts and baits against Alys until one of them takes a bite, then they meet trying to feel each other, suss each other out, next thing you know, they're in bed together and we're back to the Good Days of Aemond and Alys as seen on TV! But oh wait, it's worse every time it recycles! Like your favourite show but with butt-ugly new cast they never address!"

Hel takes a deep breath, defeated and desperate all at once. "I am so tired of it. Mom is so tired of it. You're tired of it. And I know, deep down, Aems knows this isn't a sustainable way to love someone. To be in love with someone. But he doesn't know anything but Alys. She's his first everything- yeah, I know about that too, it's disgusting. But now... there's you! My very hot, very beautiful, very amazing best friend."

You nod. "I am agreeing with most of your points so far, especially the compliments geared toward me."

She playfully slaps your arm, continuing. "If we pitch this as like, you helping Aemond make Alys jealous... make it seem as if we're helping him out by sussing her out... you're a total bombshell, babe, Aems will see that there's more to love and lust than just Alys Rivers. It doesn't have to tell all, start and end with her. Every time." She grins as if she's so smart, finally releasing you and placing her hands on her hips to complete the look of 'Yeah, my idea is brilliant, I know'.  "We just need to get his eye away from the not really prize, and make him realise there's more than just the toxic in and out of a failing relationship with your first love."

It's hard to tell her that her idea might not be so bad after all, but Helaena is already grinning as she reads your face like an open book, jumping and clapping around silently.

"Hold on, girlfriend," you say lamely. "How are we even sure I'm his type? Imagine thinking all this, and I'm a plate of grass to a carnivore."

Helaena snorts. "Please, girlfriend. You're older than him, hot as hell, and has a coochie that keeps Cregan Stark well entertained that he's politely said no to the female population that wants him. You are not grass. You are a prime rib-eye they need to ship from the other side of the globe and further ruin our climate."

At your snort, a blush spreading across your face, you press your tongue against your cheek, not willing to concede just yet but feel your will slipping with all the positives.

First, no chores for a fucking month.

Two, you'll have fun (in his own way), adorable pretty boy Aemond again, sans the toxic.

"He can't fall in love with me, Helaena," you say carefully. "I'm serious. I don't like him that way."

She is already shaking her head.

"Of course not, he won't. We just need him to focus on anything else other than Alys. Gods bless her soul."

"She's still alive, Hel, Jesus."

"But you're perfect for this. No ones going to fall in love with anyone. I promise." Helaena grins, tearing a piece of pancake and popping it in her mouth. "My plan is foolproof."

A few thousand hours later, her plan, is in fact, not foolproof.

TAGLIST (message to be added! please ensure you are able to be tagged to get notifs): @fan-goddess @snh96 @valeskafics @opheliaas-stuff @tempo-rary-fix @fantasticpeaceharmony @diannnnsss

[milkywaydrabbles]

anything nsfw (or sfw idm) with mikey and a taller reader? or any other tr boys? no sub!reader please

A/N: I hope this is what you were looking for! I did both SFW and NSFW it was v fun. However if you'd like a m!reader or gn!/reader please let me know! I'll also do it for any other requested TR boy ty mwuah

Mikey x Tall!Reader

Lord the way Mikey would have had her head if they didn’t grow up together. She was always a cocky little shit on being taller than him--and seeing eye to eye with Draken. She’d been friends with him, Shinichiro and Emma your whole life. She used to be so small and shy and cute--what happened?

It felt like from one day to the next she grew in her own skin, having an awkward growth spurt as a teen and looking like a newborn giraffe learning how to walk for the first time. Always nervous to talk to boys and girls--the boys would look at her like some kind of freak, and the girls would simply make fun of her for her height. ‘How will you ever get a boyfriend if you’re so tall?’

Mikey was always there for her afterwards, make sure she knew that he still liked her a lot even if she was taller than him.

And then the years passed, and Mikey changed, and she changed too. Except now, Mikey was the leader of Bonten, one of the most dangerous gangs in the country and she was, well, a new executive climbing the ranks. No longer the shy, scared little girl, she was just as ruthless as the rest of them.

And all the while, by Mikey’s side no matter what. She was cocky, but respectful in front of the rest of them. Honestly the rest of the execs just thought you were a childhood friend and nothing more--much like Sanzu.

But what they didn’t know was that she’d joke and prod at Mikey behind closed doors. He was a ruthless leader, but with her he’d turn back into a kid, scowling at the way she’d hold things over his head (literally!). 

“I can fire you.” He’d start. “I can fucking kill you. You know that right?” throwing daggers her way when he scowls, arms crossed. She’d simply snort and say “You could. But then you’d be bored when you’re alone wouldn’t you?” She’s right.

Imagine the shock of the rest of the execs when Mikey ‘accidentally’ drops the ball during an interrogation mission. Rats were found smuggling drugs out from underneath them to make a quick buck and Mikey was personally there, front and center to get info. Of course, he wasn’t the one doing the torture, he’s too good for that. She stood behind him with a stone cold face, that could bring most of the men in the room to their knees. But the assholes who were caught kept egging her on like she couldn’t hold her own. Like a woman shouldn’t be in the ranks at all.

“You’ll do well to not insult my girl like that.” It didn’t go unnoticed, Sanzu and Rindou glancing at each other for a moment but thinking nothing of it--you were an executive, he could just be talking like you were his in the same way the rest of the execs were under his command. 

They kept sneering, until they realized she was the one doing the torture and not the usual suspect of Sanzu. It was gruesome and honestly one of the worst cases of torture they’d seen, but all the information was extracted. Which means she turned into their executioner, pulling a glock out from its holster underneath your shirt and putting a bullet between their eyes. The silence was deafening, only Mikey laughing to himself and raising her hand to his lips with a quiet ‘that’s my girl’ and a kiss to the back of her hand.

The next meeting the execs had (that Mikey wasn’t a part of) turned into a madhouse.

NSFW: 

Mikey was always one to want to stay in control, but he had his work cut out with her. She was so good at keeping him underneath her, practically whimpering at the way she would tease his cock with her fingers, with her mouth, with her pussy. 

“You’re such a good boy, Mikey.” She’d coo, fingers slowly wrapping around his erection and pumping at a snail’s pace; teasing. “Coming home to me after such a busy day.” She leaned down and gave the head of his dick a kiss, holding his hips down so he can’t buck them up into her face. “Are you going to let me take care of you, baby boy?” He nodded, breath shaky as he exhaled, “Y-yes, please.”

She used her height to her advantage, push up bras and plunging necklines her best friend to tease him even in the office. She just had to lean only a little bit, pretending to lean down and read whatever it was he had in his hands before Mikey was panting like a dog begging her to let him fuck.

She’d sit down on his desk, short skirt and pumps that made her legs look even longer, spreading her legs ever so slightly so he could see the pretty lacy panties she’d been wearing. Mikey would get on his knees ready to eat that pretty pussy, only for her heel pressed against his chest to stop him (and he was still so far away, fucking long legs). You know that one scene of Wolf of Wall Street? Very much that.

Whenever  they fuck she’s very much on top, bouncing on his lap for her pleasure only. And if he cums before she’s ready to stop? Well Mikey better get used to overstimulation quickly, she’s not done yet.

[lizpaige]

Fics I Read This Week 👩‍💻

hi I want to smooch all of you for the amazing adam's birthday we all had 😘 trc tumblr was popping off like it was the 2010s lmao this is a list of some of the fics i read this week that i loved and think you will toooooo

First Ditch Effort by @clotpolesonly - I don't normally tag authors (bc I can't always find their tumblrs haha) but I must in this case because their commentary in the tags on every post is just amazing lmao. The pynch dynamic in this fic is INCREDIBLE UNREAL SHOWSTOPPING like do yourself a favor and read this and then re-read it.

the cost of a lover by summerequinox - help! i love an escort!Adam fic, r u kidding meeeeeee???? there aren't enough. This one is great, I re-read it. Plus painter!Ronan is just the best profession for him in any non-magic!au.

at my best when I'm at my worst by shinealightonme - pretty sure this was a re-read too. The jealousy in this fic is so delicious. Ronan is such a dumby being jealous of Adam and Declan going to the same college. The long distance struggles are too real it hurts, but it's so good.

It's Always Sunny in Henrietta by dealwiththedevil - I must confess I have not seen the show just clips and memes BUT you def don't have to to enjoy this fic. Adam the flirty af bartender trying to seduce the angsty bouncer Ronan (with the help of Henry + Blue) - its so silly and good!

For the kiss, I would do most anything by DiltonsBunker (AmbivalentPug) - The soft and awkward dynamics of first loves and first times were just impeccable here. Pynch are so sweet to each other and it is so fluffy and good.

bury me in your bedroom without sheets by burningcicadas - We need more fem!Pynch and we need more fem!Pynch without name changes. The PINING in this is just sooooooo fucking good. But like pls write another part and let them smooch I am begging you

dig into the ribs by sunmoontruth - there needs to be more trans fics in the fandom. This is a new one and a greaaaaaaat one. Both Adam and Ronan are trans with wildly different experiences, love the religious refs, love a supportive older bro declan, just so good

[bellewintersroe]

Max Verstappen x HornerDaughter!

Part 8, here’s the LINK to part 7, how tf have I got so far already? Pls comment guys to let me know what you’re thinking or if you have any conspiracy’s about what’s gonna happen, I love the engagement, keeps me motivated lol. Also just a quick shout out I don’t dislike Kelly, I just used her for the story as it’s FICTION, if ya’ll hate desperately on peoples partners for no justified reason then leave pls cos it’s weird. Only a short chapter but I wanna get more of a build up before we reach more deeper into the story :)

Leni wakes up with one of the worst hangovers ever, plus, she’s on the bathroom floor? That would be the worst part of the night, but when her memory pieces back together and she has to deal with what happened the night before going back to sleep on the bathroom floor seems fine… Taglist: @ironmaiden1313 @callsignwidow @fangirl125reader @norassimpingzone @roseseraj @eugene-emt-roe @copper-boom @its-elias-world @cassiopeiia24 @larastark3107

“Ugh.” My voice cracked, eyes momentarily opening only to squeeze shut again when a blinding light, sunlight, stung my eyes. My first thought was, fuck, I’d left my contact lenses in, my second, why on earth was on the bathroom floor?

Momentarily I was dazed, my eyes feeling like they had cheese shredders in them. I peeled the dry lenses out of my eyes, dropping them in the toilet. Thankfully it was a clean toilet and I didn’t wake up to my own vomit. With a groan and a slight grace, I sat up straight, blinking around the room. My phone laid besides me, and shakily, I reached out to unlock it. As I did I wanted to curl up and DIE. A drunken text from Max only caused flashbacks from the night prior. We kissed, and I really fucking enjoyed it. Me and Max kissed. Max Verstappen and I, my long time FRIEND kissed. My heavy head dropped into my palm, groaning again. I’d broken every single rule I’d set myself, NOT to go there, or at least wait a few months. Drunken me seemingly had the control of a horny 18 year old. When I realised I had 0 underwear on that’s when I became even more confused.

We hadn’t had sex? No, no. For sure we hadn’t done that. I don’t think he fingered me? Turns out they were stuffed in my bag for some bizarre reason, and I couldn’t quite piece together why on earth they weren’t actually on me. I don’t even know if I wanted to know, thinking about it too much gave me a serious case of hangxiety, and my poor stomach couldn’t tolerate it. Pathetically, I wretched over the toilet and threw up even more contents from my nights intake.

Please God, stop me being sick and I will never drink again. Ever!

It was crazy how such an extreme hungover could bring an atheist to become religious, right? With last nights actions I couldn’t even bring myself to respond to Max, plus, his message made no sense, something about being too drunk and his birthday. I felt too much shame, he probably only kissed me because he was just as fucking plastered. I was confident he’d never want to do that sober, surely not?

The only thing I could do was sit down in the shower, contemplating every single action from the night before, letting the water cleanse my skin of the pure sins. What would my dad say if he knew I’d been snogging his golden boy? It would make it awkward to say the least.

I laid in bed, hair dripping onto the pillows but I didn’t have it in me to care. I’d added too much embarrassing shit to both my private and public Instagram story which had already been viewed and most likely screenshotted thousands of times. Mortified wasn’t even the right word, if it wasn’t for my empty stomach I would’ve vomited from that alone.

Max: sorry that made no sense, hope you’re not feeling too rough this morning? thank you for coming yesterday I had such a good time Max: I hope nothing makes you feel weird from last night, it’s fine between us right?

When I awoke at 2pm I felt my chest tighten at Max’s texts. I even smiled that he had acknowledged last night, a little weird of me seeing as I wanted to pass away earlier, but with my hangover relatively slept off, my feelings for Max were coming on strong.

Leni: hey I just woke up again sorry, I had such a good time, hope you had a good bday

Leni: I don’t feel weird, we’re all good Leni: do you? I caught myself smiling a little too hard, awaiting his reply, when I saw the speech bubble of him forming a response and started giggling, I knew that I was already a goner. I was so deep down afraid of getting my heart broke seeing as Max was fresh out of a relationship (even if he’d mentally checked out) I had to push myself away from any kind of intimate interaction. It had already gone way too far.

Max: no, no not at all

Max: probably the best birthday I’ve had I hated how hard I smiled, my heart kinda sunk when I began overthinking everything I didn’t need to. It all seemed fun now, but how would something between Max and I ever work. What if he decided one day this was all too soon, or if he didn’t actually like me? Our friendship would be screwed forever. I hesitantly locked my phone, staring off into space as I began imagining every scenario possible. I’d have no option but to revert whatever happened between Max and I back into how it was before, if that was even possible. What if Max suddenly thought I was super obsessed with him and I was bugging him by texting him too often?? I scratched my head uncomfortably at the thought, cringing down to my bones at the idea I could possibly be a nuisance to him.

One way to fix this??? Cut communication online from slim to nothing- or as least as I possibly could without growing attached or seeming rude. It was a plan, and it was a plan that commenced today, as much as I didn’t actually want to do it, as long as I didn’t have a sip of alcohol I’d be fine… right?

What could go wrong?

[rascalentertainments]

Wish Granted Ship Dynamics 💛💜

The DTIYS challenge is nearly done being made, but in the meantime, I thought it would be fun to share the shipping dynamics for the story currently (and possibly after)

Star x Asha (Starstruck)

This is actually one of my favorite kinds of dynamics in any media. Someone full of joy and comedy bringing some fun into another person's life and they become better for it is such a wonderful thing. In this case Star bring the joy to Asha that she's been missing for most of her life. And more he shows his kindness, the more she's falling in love with him.

Star takes a little while to realize what he's feeling for her is love, so his gestures to her go from regular kindness to romantic throughout the story. One thing that he does is kiss Asha's hand to comfort her when she starts to worry. Its actually a celestial based custom one does to calm someone down, but after he finds out its a romantic gesture for humans, he starts to fluster after he does it. (She finds it cute anyway)

He can tell when she's in danger or stressed and Asha can feel the same for Star, even when they're far apart. They can literally feel each other. They just want to keep each other safe in their arms. Could it be because she called him down and they're connected from that? 😉

(During Story)

At first Asha can get annoyed with Star's constant optimism and silliness instead of taking the mission seriously, but the more she's around him, she starts to soften and open up to him later in story about what happened to her father and saba. Not to mention she won't admit she finds him charming sometimes.

Also, Asha starts finding more things she likes about Star. Besides his optimism, he's also eager to help everyone just like she is. He's got a kind and cute smile, his sense of humor is infectious, he has a cute smile, he's a sweet guy, he also can be serious if someone is in danger and its kind of attractive, and why does she keep thinking about his smile? So when the uh.....ending arrives, the thought of never seeing him again breaks her heart.

(Post-Story)

One idea I had in mind after they (possibly) get together is that they go from an awkward pinning phase to being ridiculously lovey-dovey. If you thought Magnifico and Amaya were ridiculous, Asha and Star are just as bad. Minus the stealing wishes thing of course. 😂 Star always show affection and isn't completely shy about it, but after Asha finally opens up and becomes more like herself, the two of them adore each other and are so affectionate it actually starts annoying some of the teens later. Dhalia, Dario, Hal, Bazeema, and Safi are pretty okay with it. Most of them could see the two of them liked each other already. Simon is...indifferent about it for some reason. Gabo is secretly happy for them but he can do without the constant PDA when they get carried away.

Star: "You'll always be my princess." 💛

Asha: "And you'll always be my prince." 💜

Gabo: "And I didn't help take down the monarchy so you two could make just make goo-goo eyes at each other. Get a room." 😕

2. Bazeema x Safi (The background ship)

I'll keep this part brief since they're actually more of a background thing. Not that there's a problem with it, I just want to make sure that the main story is still being told. It's more of a sweet background ship that you enjoy seeing unfold when there's breaks for the cast. These two are more like two quiet mice with a shared fondness for nature.

They actually know each other from afar, since they both grew up in Rosas. But they never spoke to each other until years later cause they were too shy to talk. Yes, I'm serious, its the worst case of "JUST SAY SOMETHING" ever. 😂 When they get thrown together because of becoming "accomplices" to Star and Asha, that's when they finally get over their shyness. Bazeema sort of speaks like Fluttershy and disappears suddenly, while Safi barely speaks at all. Yeah, he doesn't have a ton of lines, but I swear its not anything against him. (Except for that Chicken obsession, is he just Gonzo?) I think it fits better and its s better not to his Dwarf counterpart. Plus he'll only say things that are important in some way.

They're just really sweet to see together, really!

3. Dhalia x Flazino (Would you believe they got shipped by accident?)

So I already established that Asha and Flazino are friends only. Since there are some Wish viewers that stated they want to see a male-female friendship without going romantic, so I did that here, they're platonic only. Can't say the same for him and Dhalia though, lol. She's pretty chipper while Flazino wants to burn the place to the ground.

The two of them start out as work friends who only saw each other when Sabor needed his food. Flazino would talk about how stressful being an apprentice is (minus telling about the Hamlet) while Dahlia would tell him the mishaps of her day. They're just really relaxed with each other. At first its just to vent a little once in a while. But then Flaz started showing up to the kitchen on breaks, Dhalia started to bring him extra meals when it looked like he needed the extra energy, the two of them would talk about things more personal for hours..... they're dating and they just don't realize it. 😂

Then there's Dahlia fangirling over Magnifico. She admires his confidence, skills with magic, charisma and his loyalty to his citizens needs. Flazino has only one of those things and it destroys a part of himself that she likes the worst boss on Earth. She'll come to her senses, don't worry. 😅

4. Magnifico and Amaya

THEM:

Basically: Team Rocket in public, Hades and Maleficent in private. I liked the idea the art book had of the citizens not knowing they were evil, so I figured they'd have a personality that was friendly and inviting (like how TR puts on acts as charming hosts) to the public. But when they're alone they have a more sinister/spicier side to them and Sabor wants to barf. 😂

While they may have their little differences, the one thing they have in common is wanting absolute power, no matter the cost. They've worked together for years making their magic stronger that they know each other inside and out. So when they go against the heroes, they sort of mock their relationship. Kind of like they're saying their own love is stronger than two teenagers who don't know anything. Stating that there's no way the two of them could love each other after such a short amount of time together. (Its also a shot at the "falling in love in 3 days" trope Disney used to do.)

Given where the Disney villain couple theme comes in, they heavily mock Star and saying its pointless to love a human who can't love him back. And on Asha's end its basically telling her she just calling on Star by accident as if to give a reason the two of them couldn't work and it kind of makes Star question himself and his purpose, same goes for Asha. Yeah, they're just assholes, even towards other couples. 😂

@oh-shtars @signed-sapphire @chillwildwave @annymation

@snackara @your-ne1ghbor @ishadow246 @tumblingdownthefoxden

@uva124 @cocoapowderpictures @natsuki208

[tempestgnostic]

The Werewolf: Archetype and Identity

Someday I’ll make a list of my alterhuman and otherhearted identities, but I’m not sure when that will be. For now, I’ll just talk about the the most prominent one: The Werewolf. I capitalize the name for both its significance and the fact that it’s an archetypal identity, so to speak. (I also use he/him throughout this essay, simply because I’m speaking of The Werewolf in relation to myself, and as myself.) I’m not a specific werewolf in any sense, and I’m not drawn from just one piece of folklore, or even one broad interpretation. It’s much bigger than that. Of course, explaining all the finer details would require an essay, and time is at a premium nowadays. Therefore, since brevity is the soul of wit, and tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes, I will be brief. Pay no attention to the appropriately-timed readmore.

Let’s look at an example of what I mean: the eponymous baron in Bisclavret is a specific werewolf, but he’s also one of many depictions of The Werewolf as a somewhat noble being who is wronged by others—in this case, his wife—as a consequence of his true nature. This “noble beast” interpretation can be contrasted with folk tales of feral werewolves who threaten villagers and fear neither torch nor blade. Werewolves aren’t solely monsters meant to inspire empathy or fear, however. They can also serve specific literary functions, often as symbols of broader concepts and experiences. The werewolf story can be used as a metaphor for a young person coming-of-age, a challenging tale of tangling with the darker aspects of human nature, or even as an exploration of queer identity and the liminal spaces we occupy. These are certainly not unique to werewolves, and the latter is especially common among other creatures embraced by the horror genre.

Each broad interpretation of The Werewolf feels to me like a part of my identity on some level. I’m the werewolf who feels guilty for the harm he’s done, who tries to resist his feral urges, but I’m also the one who embraces that side and indulges in it. I’m the werewolf who was born this way, the one who was blessed (or cursed) by some spirit or deity, but also the one who was bitten or scratched—forever changed out of cruelty, indifference, or even a dark perversion of love. The only bits of werewolf folklore I won’t engage with on some level are those from practices and cultures that are closed for me. They’re not mine to claim on any level—certainly not in any way that would be respectful.

Like so many in our community, my connection to The Werewolf is intricately intertwined with almost all other aspects of my identity. I’m genderqueer, yet I strictly use he/him pronouns. I have a beard—a thick one, at that—and a flat chest, yet I also identify myself as butch and sapphic. It’s been uniquely gender-affirming for me to have partners who identify as lesbians—to be fully seen and understood as butch. It would feel incredibly uncomfortable and even dysphoric for me to be with a straight woman. Even within queer spaces, at times I feel either gravely misunderstood or utterly invisible. I am, on some level, expected to conform, and my refusal to do so marks me at best as ‘confused,’ and at worst as a threat.

I embrace the androgyny in my voice and mannerisms, and I easily—often unintentionally—slip into different social presentations depending on who’s around me. (I’m also autistic, to no one’s surprise.) Code-switching comes naturally to me, likely as a result of having to cobble together adequate social skills over the course of a decade, but also as a matter of safety as a queer person who’s only ever lived in red states. The Werewolf is a liminal creature, existing in several different worlds at once and moving through them with varying levels of ability. I am no different—charming and quick to make friends when I know the social landscape, and terribly awkward and clumsy when I don’t.

In the interest of keeping this even remotely readable in one sitting, I’ll wrap this up here. The Werewolf can be a charismatic yet dangerous lover, a pitiful and wretched thing, a creature just beyond the veil of understanding, or even a kindred spirit. I am and have been all of these things, both in my external life and my mind’s inner world. I experience phantom and mental shifts, and I see myself in so many depictions of werewolves in media. This part of my identity plays a vital role for me in kink—though I’ll save the details for a properly 18+ post—in my relationship dynamics, in my pagan spirituality, and many other parts of my life. It fits neatly over my gender expression like a second skin and provides a backdrop for my social presence. I am The Werewolf As Archetype: a being representing liminality, transformation, and embracing authenticity—at any cost. It is a vital part of me, without which I would cease to be.

[missamericadog]

on my way home from the gym i had a really stupid thought of "hey it's been 7/8 years since aa7 so what if capcom reflect that by doing another fucking time skip" i then tried to roll with this bad idea and flesh it out a bit and see what it could look like

so here i present to you my version of the worst ace attorney 7 pitch in da whole wide WORLD !!!

[SPOILERS FOR AA4 AND AA6, NOT REALLY AA5 CAUSE UH NOTHING TO REALLY SPOIL I GUESS LOL?]

come 2024 it will have been 8 years since AA6 so fuck it, 7 years time skip (Again 🙄🙄🙄) to reflect that time

introducing Ace Attorney 7, or Justice & Cykes: Ace Attorneys

Apollo has been in Khurain for the past 7 years restructuring its legal system, meanwhile Phoenix has retired from law to do the same with Edgeworth (who's stayed as Chief Prosecutor) in Japanifornia. He's still acting as a mentor to Thena and is still in charge of the WAA, but doesn't take cases himself any more. Him and Polly don't really keep in touch as much as they should, as both are too busy

maybe Apollo gets homesick tho, or Phoenix offers him his old job back or what, but either way a 31 year old Polly moves back to Japanifornia to be a lawyer there again

case 1 is a tutorial for two reasons:

1) apollo hasn't done law in this country in nearly a decade

B - phoenix has reworked the WHOLE system (i.e. introduced two fun mechanics from GAA)

it should be a simple case, but the problem is that this new system nick introduced fucking baffles polly: why does he now have multiple witnesses on the stand at once? and why is there a jury system? (does this take away from GAAs unique identity? idk)

he solves it btw ofc he does, with help from his professional magician assistant trucy

at the end of the case phoenix calls polly & trucy to his office and tells them they're siblings

cut to case two, where we are focused on an Athena case (possibly set before 7-1? so as to keep the weighty cliffhanger as long as possible). trucy is assistant for this too. fuck it. she's assistant for most/all of the game. trucy deserved better in 5 and 6, capcom.

reintroduction to investigation segments, which remain unchanged. athena, now mid 20s, is a lot more confident and independent, though maybe still needs to ask for help and advice from nick more than she'd like. solves a two day case just fine, even with new prosecutor (maybe Sebastian Debeste? or a rookie who has a similar character arc to us in previous games)

case 3 back to apollo, and him and trucy are probably taking the news itself well but not the fact it took OVER A DECADE FOR NICK TO TELL THEM, and it doesn't help that nick just pins it to him being too busy and forgetting lol

either way a case has come in so the two of them take it to distract themselves but there's gonna be a little awkward tension in the air throughout especially whenever they visit thena and nick

solve it

case 3 back to thena, and her journey of independence & also now dealing with Wright family drama lol

solves case

case 4 back to polly, who's still miffed but is trying to be an adult about it

solves case

case 5 nick is suspected of murder, and trucy is witness so Apollo and Athena work together to solve it, with alternating trial days or maybe one leading investigation and the other court

there'll be a moment where apollo can't help for whatever reason and this is athenas big breakthrough indepdence moment as she solves this bit alone

also guest prosecutor franzy von karma; reveal she was the mentor of previous prosecutor (maybe on the bench with her? why has this not been a thing other than dgs3-3 capcom.)

solves it's not nick or trucy, all of them gain confidence within each other and themselves

game over everyone's happy

[thejaded0nes]

Chapter Three: Starting off Small

First | Last | Next

She sits in her dorm room, her roomie was absent as usual, the only sight of them is the bed and pile of envelopes they send to cover their rent. Zoe couldn’t complain honestly, it was a pretty good deal. She never really got along with anyone she roomed with, much perfuring to have an area to herself. She sat on her bed, curled over a clipboard and frantically scrawled in answers.

“Address… occupation…” she mumbled mindlessly as her eyes meandered around the page. She jumped from question to question answering some, avoiding others. As she did her mind wandered, “worst case scenario, this is all some placebo and I’ll just have to go back to estrogen.” She sighed and she scribbled her signature, “best case scenario, maybe I won’t feel any more dysphoria.” Her mind went over Dr Aceilia’s talk briefly, “maybe this really could revolutionize trans care, but still.” her chest tightened as she finished her thought, “What did Avie mean by ‘knowing her better then she did.’” As this idea reached its apex, her eyes trained on the final question. One she had been bouncing off of repeatedly. Almost instinctively she reads it aloud, “How would you describe your own gender identity?” 

Her face scrunched, she stood and paced the room, only lit by the string of fairy lights strung along the top of the walls. Her mind raced, she had come out as trans to her parents before highschool and they weren’t that supportive. Zoe was adamant this was what she wanted and it took some convincing before her parents relented. Now however, she had the downtime to give it more thought, and she wasn’t quite sure how to answer that. She hated the idea of any kind of masculine presentation, and while she was certainly more comfortable with femme presenting, recent events had made her think. She pulled a large sweatshirt and pajama pants on, grabbed a package of instant noodles and headed off to the shared kitchen, head still swirling.

Zoe wanted to feel gorgeous, powerful, and while it's a struggle to have the former recognized, the latter has been obfuscated in tandem. She took incredible care in her figure but not in the way many others did. The idea of having to rely on others made her slightly ill, so she did a lot to be able to care for herself. She worked Mondays and weekends, practically to the bone when put in conjunction with college. As she placed her noodles in the microwave and pressed start, Zoe remembered an instant at work. She was carrying something and it wasn’t really that heavy, but the sloshing liquid inside along with the few points from which she could grab on to, it was awkward. She breathed and focused, sometimes she wished she had a few more limbs, so often left with her hands full. One of her coworkers offered to help and she was happy to accept. As he walked away he mentioned “if you need me to carry anything else heavy for you let me know”, she cringed.

It was a classic case of eww-phoria, while it was validating in a way, she felt demeaned. Zoe didn’t want to say anything at the moment but it did hurt, come to think of it why didn’t she? She collected her food and marched off back to her dorm, currently neck deep in her own head. Then, all at once she's snapped out by the sound of a door clicking open, her door clicking open.

Her head darted up from its sullen position, and was met with Justin. He was nice but couldn’t take hints. He had been slinking up to Zoe every day for the past week, both in the dorms and the halls. She had always given him short curt responses, he took this as a hard outer shell he had to crack. She took this as an insult. Today was not a good day for his latest courting attempt but when it came to reading rooms, Justin was illiterate.

“Hayyy!” He slunk against her door frame like a february snowman, the dark black scruff on his chin looking like the dirt in his snow white face. “Gotch yerself some noods?” somehow he asked the question like it wasn’t obvious.

“Yes, I made myself raman,” she began to fiddle with the noodles, keeping them from setting, “I was filling out some paperwork-” She was cut off.

“Yea y’know, its realy good wit some fried egg. oh and dont for the pork.” He went on and on. Zoe stood there, the warmth of the cup radiating into her hand, the warmth of her rage steadily radiating into the air. She let out a breath as she fiddled with the noodles watching the steam slowly fade as the barricade in front of her did not. She blinked and smiled a strained smile, one that clearly said, ‘gods I’d rather be anywhere else’ hoping he’d pick up on her hint. “Mmm, Hmmm.” she hummed almost instinctually. 

“oh that reminds me of this one anime where this guy teaches this girl how too…” the words fade into her ears. He’s going on it again, she thought, he’s doing that thing where he mentions how this reminds him of some anime, she stifled a chuckle as she felt him reach the end of his dialogue tree. Now he offers to watch it with me.

“Maybe we should watch it sometime.” Yea maybe. That was what she always said when he would do this, then they discussed some time, and she plans to be out of the dorm that weekend. “...i was thinkin maybe we could watch it together sometime, im free this weekend if you are, I know your realy busy.” Zoe prepared herself to perform her part of the worst dance ever, but as she fiddled her noodles she realized they have congealed into a block, despite her efforts the meager excuse for a meal she held had been rendered inedible. She stares into the brick, peering into the folds as if they were ones in her own head.

“Heyya earth to Zoe,” he snapped his fingers to grab her attention and something snapped. In an instant she dropped the waste in her hands and grabbed the waste in front of her, “woah! commin on a little strong ay?” He chuckled. She tightened her grip around his wrists. “Quite.” the words dripped out with a venom that shocked them both. Justin flinched as she twisted his arm, forcing him to the ground, “heyheyheyy!! Yacoulda jus said no!” 

“I did that last month. Then I told you I had to study. Then I told you I had already seen it, and here you are, still.” her grip tightened with the last word. 

“Hey look, your pretty strong for a girl.” he squeezed it out in a half flirty tone. A fire lit in her eyes, of all the moments to hit on someone, he chose now? With another grip she felt a slight crack as his wrist popped causing a girlish scream to erupt from him. She stopped and her grip lightened slightly, “Is that supposed to hurt me? All you’ve got are some barbed words.” She pulled him up from his knelt position, “You couldn’t if you tried.” 

She let go and felt him scramble away, only looking back to make certain she wasn’t pursuing her. Zoe stood in the hallway, hands aloft. They slowly return to her sides as she moves to kick the cup noodle to one side and closes her door with a click. She waltz over to the questionnaire and picks up the pen and fills in the last blank, 

“How would you describe your own gender identity?” 

“N/A”

Hey, psst, down here.

This is the last part that's only exposition!

Next Chapter, Zoe starts her hrt, I am so excited!

[jasminegazer]

Chapter 10 Part 1

“For years, I have trained you.”

Her father began standing before his throne. Karai stood with her head bowed. She knew this was coming. But the shock and fear still found a way to creep into her.

“Perfected you. Raised you. Created a vision into what this clan could live up to.”

Her father’s cold voice became harsher and harsher as it rose on each word. He paced to the wall.

“And now . . .”

Her father punched the wall, immediately creating a spiderweb of cracks.

Shimata

Karai had never seen anything good happen when he was this filled with rage. She needed to think of something. Anything. Now.

“THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY ME?! BY SURRENDERING THE MISSION?! BY NOT ONLY LETTING THEM LIVE! BUT TO ALLOW THEM TO ESCAPE AS WELL. THOSE VILE RATCHET BARBARIC CHIKU-”

“There are more.”

A beat of silence followed Karai’s interruption.

“What?”

Oh shimata that actually worked. Keep Going!

“There are more mutants. Than the four terrapin creatures. From what I gathered they consider themselves a family. Cousins and siblings.”

Her father’s figure loosened from its original stature. Moving to have his arms crossed behind him, back facing Karai. “And? What importance does this have to your failure?”

Karai was fighting both her giddy relief and anxiety at this point. To massive beast clawing at the edges of her mask.

“So instead of raising alarm to all of the mutants by obtaining a small group, why not use my role more to our advantage? If I gathered enough information you could devise the perfect plan to obtain all of the mutants. TCRI will have so many mutants in reach that they are more than likely to leave the majority to your disposal.”

A long stretch of silence came before the two warriors. Karai was preparing herself for the worst. Any day could be the end so she had to be prepared.

“You have impressed me my daughter. You may proceed with the mission. I will contact TCRI.”

She let out a heavy breath of relief. That was close.

“But. You still disobeyed me. And therefore a punishment must be imposed to restore your honor.”

Karai hesitated before bowing once more. There was no point in fighting or begging for this to stop. She chose this path but she wouldn’t be foolish enough to leave it to head into the woods.

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

He really let his anger out with that.

Karai hissed as she covered a bruise forming on her cheek. This was the least of her problems. She had plenty of other injuries. Plus 2 weeks of being suspended from field work.

That meant no school. No kickboxing. No hanging out with April. . . Nevermind. That still wasn’t an option until she apologized. But hey. She only had to wait 2 weeks for that awkward conversation. Yaaay

Speaking of which, Karai might as well have put her mask back on before she walked into her shared room. But no she was too tired for that and could use a discussion with Jennika no matter how restricted the seriousness of the tone could be.

She was already half way to her bed before her sister noticed her arrival. She was fiddling with her guitar. A common sign that quite the show had happened while she was gone.

“You will not believe how low Lieutenant has fallen. I saw him sparring with like 2 newbies, straight of the street, and they beat his ass so go-”

Jennika stopped mid sentence as Karai dropped to sit on her bed. Her wide smile of mischief was swapped with a look of concern melting from rage to annoyance. Jenn threw done her guitar carelessly.

“Ano meinu no musuko.” Karai’s roommate grumbled as she dug around for their first aid kit. They always made sure to have one in case of training or . . . situations. Like this.

Karai didn’t need to handle another situation right now. Especially if it put Jennika in danger. “Hey. Don’t bring my grandmother into this.”

Jenn turned her head furiously. “Unless she was like you then I don’t give a shit.”

“And if she was?” Karai playfully countered.

“Then screw me. At least she probably wasn’t half as reckless with her body as you are with yours.” Jenn flicked her forehead. Karai didn’t mind. She managed to lighten the mood.

Instead of focusing on Jenn’s poor medical technique, she started to pick that the fabric of the mattress. It was soft and firm.

. . .

“Jenn.”

Her sister hummed in response.“Thanks for breaking the tension. Felt like I was bouta choke on it.”

That got a chuckle out of both of them.

“I . . . I need you to call me a different name. When we’re out doing missions.”

“Is this because of the talk that got you and dad into this whole situation?” Jenn dramatically jestured to her face at the last bit.

Karai was honestly a little shocked. Her sister was blunt to say the least. But not usually when it came to situations. One of the few topics where she kept her opinion to herself. Karai was used to and thankful for that.

It wasn’t much of a topic one would like to discuss.

“Can we not talk about it?”

“Who said we would?”

Karai really did try not to let the feelings show but somehow they snuck onto her face. Jenn seemed to notice, seeing by the way her face detensed. She let out a frustrated sigh.

“Whatever happened, all I know is the only reason you’re here is because whatever you did that upset him was important enough to you to make you do it and find excuse to get you out.” Jenn pressed her forehead against Karai’s. “As long as you’re still smart and careful enough to keep getting out alive enough to be fixable then I don’t need to ask anything.”

Karai smiled as she leaned into her sister. “Watashi?”

“Anata.”

They sat for a while. It was dangerous to have moments like this in public. Compassion can be used easily as a tool against you in a ninja clan. Especially one as prestige as the Foot. So they saved this for their room. When they needed a place and person to let the walls fall down.

Jenn broke the silence by getting up to pick up her guitar. “So.” She clapped on the word. “What do you want me to call you? On the field?”

Karai thought about that for a minute. Looking around the room before landing on her bed. An old ichimatsu doll rested in the corner. Supposedly from her mother. She remembered blurs of being quite attached to the thing. But could never hook onto the memory of how the silky hair had become stained from blood.

“How about Miwe?”

Jenn snorted as she flopped back on her bed, guitar in her lap. “Alright! I like it. You ready to hear about what happened while you were gone now, Miwe.”

Karai chuckled at the thought of such antics. “Sure. I’ve got time to kill.”

Previous Masterpost Next

ONE MORE PART AND WE’RE DONE WITH THIS STORY!!! Ah I had so much fun writing the sisters ever in the Foot (yes they are sisters and no they aren’t a ship). As well as sprinkling in a little lore. Stay tuned for the last part.

Cowabunga turtle fanz!

[lily-alphonse]

Emily/Abigail the gem girls plss

This one is hot. How do they fit together though? (imagining a scenario of Emily spraying Abigail with water for trying to eat her crystals lol)

SOME AO3 RESEARCH LATER

Oh damn this one is very rare. I got nothing from that research lol. Come on guys we need people on this one the sapphics are being neglected once again!

Ok let's see.

I imagine them actually getting close because they are both very naturally affectionate people. They love hugs and teasing and stuff.

When Abigail and her friends start coming to play pool at the saloon every Friday night it starts out with compliments and “honey”, “dollface.” Abigail loves Emily’s style, and Emily loves Abigail’s makeup. (I headcanon Abigail can do a FIERCE cateye wing in her sleep). As Emily gets more comfortable with them she starts coming over to lean on Abigail (since Emily is tall and lanky and Abby is short) and calling her “BB” and “sugar” and even her girlfriend. “Oh my girlfriend is here look at that smokey eye oh my YOBA!”

Abby ends up looking forward to Fridays a lot for their little interactions. And if Emily ever comes into her dad’s store it makes her day. So Abby wonders why they don’t hang out outside of work. But the more she thinks about it, the more she thinks she doesn’t just want to hang out. She actually kind of wants to date her for real.

But Emily’s never given any indication that it was anything but teasing, and she’s a bit older, and it’s literally just her job to be sweet with everyone. That’s Abby’s rationalization for skipping the saloon that Friday, at least.

Maybe it’s concern, or her friends getting involved, or simply divine intervention, but Emily tracks her down Saturday morning. And at what is likely the worst possible time, too, since Abby is up by the lake practicing her flute where no one can bother her.

She’s startled when she stops playing and hears clapping.

She whirls around to the source of the sound to see Emily in a colorful homemade sweater. “Bravo!” she calls out, crunching through the leaves to meet her.

Abby just about drops the flute in a panic. “You weren’t supposed to hear that,” she says sheepishly.

“The flute AND the drums, that’s impressive,” Emily says with a smile, coming to sit down next to her on the boulder she was leaning against. “And it’s just me BB, I’m a far greater embarrassment than you could ever be.”

Abby scoffs, putting her flute back in its case.

“I’m serious, you’re so incredibly talented,” Emily counters.

Abby would turn back to look at her again if she wasn’t blushing. “Thanks.”

“Are you okay?” Emily asks, concern edging in her voice. “We missed you last night.”

Abby turns to meet her eyes then, wishing her expression would tell her if she meant “we” or just her. But she doesn’t find the answer in her eyes.

Emily loops their arms as she often does, but also takes her hand, threading their fingers together. Abby can’t breathe.

“You’d tell me if something was wrong, right?” Emily asks carefully.

“There’s nothing wrong I just…” Her heart is pounding. She can barely think but she wills herself to continue. “I like you, Em.”

Abby expects the world to fall out from under her but it doesn’t. Emily’s face barely even changes. She doesn’t seem surprised, her smile just grows a bit. “I like you too, BB.”

Oh no. It’s her worst fear. She’s turning it into their game, or a misunderstanding, and she’s going to have to repeat herself and its going to be so awkward. “No like, I… like-like you.”

Emily nods. “I know what you mean.”

Abby is still stuck in disbelief, when Emily just finally leans over and kisses her.

“Amethyst” would make a banger fic title for this pairing lol

Send me any Stardew Valley rarepair and I will tell you how I would make them work! (Even non-marriage npcs) If youre lucky you may get a mini fic out of it. Check the list below to see if Ive already answered yours

Rarepair Masterlist

[zhongwans]

Going on a trip down memory lane in honor of the WOH concert's 2nd anniversary!

When May 3 rolled around everyone had mixed feelings because on one hand: YAY LLD REUNITING ON STAGE WITH THE REST OF THE GREMLIN CAST! but on the other, farewell concerts mean the end of the show's promotion period which also marks the end of interactions between the main actors. And worse, it also marks the start of CP breaking, whether it's just the actors being more distant and reserved with each other throughout the concert (compared to when they were promoting the show) or in the worst cases, like the Love and Redemption concert, where they broke CP so brutally.

But the worst of all (for me at least) is the gloating. The gloating of solo fans, the gloating of the fans of other CPs, and the ever insufferable presence of yxh accounts that have been trying (and failing) to make up conflict between GJ and ZZH the very moment the show started getting the tiniest bit of attention. When it was announced that their Tom Ford livestream was to be done separately, it was made a big deal with all those vultures screaming all over weibo how they were finally "competing with each other", and yxhs fanning the flames at the sidelines.

So when the concert rolled around the atmosphere in the fandom was bittersweet. The more experienced fans were telling us what to expect and going: "They'll probably break CP. There's nothing we can do except hope they'll do it gently".

But as we've learned before, the WOH fandom is a circus and the WOH cast our ever indulgent clowns. Fans found out that GJ and ZZH were sharing a dressing room for the concert and everyone lost their shit. And that's when we knew we were fools to think this farewell concert would be like every other farewell concert, because nothing about this fandom has been normal from the start 😂

In private, a lot of us were gearing each other up for the very strong possibility that GJ and ZZH will nowhere be as close in the concert as they seemed to be when they were promoting WOH. Turns out, not only did they seem even closer and more touchy than before, but the rest of the cast seemed to have finally snapped and lost their marbles altogether. Solo fansites were whining about how hard it was to get good solo photos of GJ and ZZH because they stuck close to each other throughout the entire event.

Even better, they didn't seem conscious of the attention at all. The crowd in the concert hall screamed at the smallest interactions between them and they didn't even look fazed. I wouldn't have blamed them if the screaming made them feel awkward and conscious, but the fact that they just didn't care and even occasionally played along with the hoard of screaming shippers just made me appreciate them even more for being so natural about it and not treating it as something to be ashamed of.

And going beyond showing it with actions, ZZH also verbally acknowledged the fans that like both of them in his speech at the end of the concert. It's often said in CN fan circles that being a CPF from a BL drama is the hardest road to take as a fan (in c-ent at least) because it puts you at the very bottom of the fan heirarchy. CPFs in general are at the very bottom of the fan pyramid but BL CPFs in particular are considered to be even lower. It's a given not to mention you or acknowledge you, and you should only exist in the very fringes of fandom. That's why a lot of BL novel fans (I'm talking about c-fandom specifically) don't really like live action adaptations or their actors, because to them these actors are just using the stories they love to gain popularity, and once they get what they want are quick to toss it and its fans aside as some kind of dark and shameful secret of the past that has to be buried. That's why ZZH's acknowledgement at the end of the concert meant a lot to CPFs, because finally, they get to have a 'seat' at the table along with everyone else.

And of course, the promise and the hug that melted even the most jaded c-fandom veterans 😂

It was really a privilege to be allowed to witness this moment. They could have taken the easier path but chose instead to share this moment with us. It truly was amazing to see them hug and firmly cement their relationship (whatever it may be) in front of thousands of people (with many more watching through the stream) when the norm in the industry is to break CP at this point.

And boy did they mean it. Months after the end of the concert, they were still stubbornly expressing a sense of unity and support for each other. At a time when toxic ZZH fans were really ramping up their attacks against GJ, ZZH pinned his and GJ's duet on his weibo page not only once, but twice. When the livestream host refused to read out a fan's username that had ZZH's name on it, GJ bluntly asked her to read it out loud, saying that censoring it out "isn't polite".

And you gotta wonder if that's part of what all this is about. Since February 2021, there have been many attempts to discredit the close relationship between them and not only has it not stopped, it has gotten much worse. ZZH is no longer in the picture (publicly, at least) but they're still at it and their tactics growing more and more brutal and unhinged the more time passes. In the beginning, ZZH was the evil one who forced poor innocent GJ to do CP marketing with him, and now GJ is somehow an evil mastermind who used ZZH to do CP marketing against his will and crushing him after. Just what is this obsession? It's been almost two years now, ZZH is out of the public eye, his career halted indefinitely, and they're still at it. I'm sure there's more to it but I can't help but feel that part of the reason for all this is because in an industry that rewards the people who are willing to pull off the dirtiest tactics, and encourages the worst kind of competition, GJ and ZZH dared to to treat each other with so much sincerity and kindness.

And just so this post doesn't end on an angsty note, remember when after the concert people were crying and hugging each other, having mental and emotional breakdowns, only to see, about an hour later, videos of GJ and ZZH laughing and giggling onstage, whispering in each other's ear, and then singing "Love to fight if you want to win" together like a pair of newlyweds? Yeah. While the rest of us peons were crying our hearts out, those two were busy treating the concert afterparty like a wedding banquet. Truly the life of an NPC.

And lastly, before I become too emo and write five more paragraphs, I just want to say that even if I'm no longer posting as much about them, I'm always still here waiting.

任山高水远 你在我也在 🏔🍊

[light-everything-in-pink]

hmm

how about harley aka helly

ASDIB!Helly/Harley Robinson headcanons! (TW: bullying)

(and also, ASDIBAU refers to the AU as a whole, and ASDIB refers to the in-universe show)

•A rare case of my AU Helly NOT having—to some extent—an ability to see things he shouldn't like the 4th wall. Works for me as it would make the narrative shenanigans of ASDIB even worse and more of a headache if he did (it already was one with Modfall, as the Narrator there is his own character). Also a rare case of a straight Helly, although his general awkwardness over his one-sided flirt schemes (one-sided as in he doesn't take reciprocation well) and gender expression shows.

•I forgot to mention this but Mr. Robinson is in his late-30s at the 'main' events of ASDIBAU, while Harley is in his early teens. That means he lost his parents way too early in his life 🥲 (not the worst Helly backstory tho. The MD one had [REDACTED] his parents).

And said loss happened at the same time Robinson got the Trauma™.

But due to the connected and misfortunate series of events, Harley and Robinson got along like bread and butter, although not as stable without them.

•Local helicopter enthusiasist and loves the feeling of the wind going against his body! He's a natural adventurer and gets himself into trouble (nature or social). However, he is not yet used to patching himself up because he was used with his late parents doing it for little young him.

•His favorite cereal is Fruit Loops while he surprisingly likes a little bit of matcha. The matcha part comes from when his late mother lets him have a taste of "adult ice cream".

•Regular customer of the local toy store, always getting things from it and either tries to tinker with the toys he bought or just play with it as it is. Also the local sunshine boy and the light in Robinson's life (note the fact that Robinson is just Poli + Unsolved Depression, and it will get worse), making modified vehicles that can play songs.

•Doesn't go to school anymore because he is the one bullies always pick on. From his wardrobe choices, hair length, and even just his general personality, Harley ended up feeling despised amongst his peers, and is going thru an oddly optimistic 'emo' phase that goes "no one understands me and if they do meet me near the trees! :)"

In short, he has Trust Issues™, something surprisingly many Hellys lack.

•He doesn't like Narrator at first, especially as the later came off as controlling to his trapped uncle. But whenever he is both resting from collecting things around the attic and at the same time the tapes have its intermissions (which is night for Broomstown as the show takes place at daytime), Harley started to 'talk' (via poor Morse) to Narrator. Getting under the latter's persona was surprisingly an achievement, and due to the things Harley finds in the attic and what Narrator tells him about himself, Harley is a bit aware that:

Narrator lost someone thru unfair fates and tragedies, using the semi-digital microworld of ASDIB as an escape, the only thing he knew of the real world,

And...there is certainly a connection between his late mother's letters, Robinson's nightmares, and the way Narrator presents his semihuman form to Robinson.

"Were you just a living program, Narrator?"

"Of course, my little lily. I'm...part of a set of experiments my company did where instead of hiring a voice actor...they made me alive instead."

"That was oddly specific. But why are you so open about this, 'Narra—'"

". …- . -. / .. / …. .- …- . / -. --- / ..-. ..- -.-. -.- .. -. --. / -.-. .-.. ..- . / .-- …. .- - / .- -- / .. -.-.-- / … - --- .--. / .- … -.- .. -. --. -.-.--"

"😐 Alright..."

Harley sat down the creaking attic floorboard as he puts together a picture frame of the main voice cast of this old cartoon, and his eyebrows narrowed at the cast, especially with the crack line conveniently going between to men: likely the real voice actor for Poli, and another, unknown person.

Well, it's 'unknown' in the sense that this man doesn't seemed to be credited in any credits, but it made the brunette curious regarding that one redacted area in the credits where any sorts of a VA for the Narrator stood.

What's worse is that this...man...

Resembles his semi human form.

Meanwhile, another person deep inside Broomstown lifted up her pen. This might be too early for her to invoke him to be more open to not just the kid of the man he trapped inside, but if she is too slow with this...

Nobody will win this game.

Nobody will be saved, physically or emotionally.

The story must go on, even if it repeats over and over.

And over

And over

And over

And over.

()Will you sing in grief for a lost soul whom you loved and was unable to express such intricate emotions to, even after death?

I don't think so, at least I can't. I would rather wish this world to end already. I'm too tired, I'm too tired. I just want it to end already. I'm too tired seeing this echo of a show struggling to exist. Why can't I euthanize it with words of farewell and ending the end? Is there really a planned end for this show? Have I been running around in circles?

Am I a fool for thinking that my suffering is undeserving? I didn't want to be in this role, I never wanted to. But the power of actions overpower the power of words, and something is wrong about each and every action he takes, we take, everyone takes.

If only I let go all those years ago, then I wouldn't have to bear seeing the echo if his face again...but a part of me longed to be with him again...

One way or another.

And I won't let her get in the way again.

Maybe the boy in green has a point: I was running around in circles. But what I did has no reversal; it never have in the first place. I don't even understood what it was that I can do, and to think I have it all is quite pathetic of myself.

All I did was ending up making psyches rot inside this glitched little show!

So...

Can I sing a song of grief, for my love that have no one to feel?

No; I do not deserve affection.

I never did.()

<>Please...let go of me.<>