#reminded me of us :( us in another universe i suppose | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sumeruin · 3 months

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bad idea, right?

♫♪: pairing: toxic ex! scara x afab! reader (modern but still in universe au)

♫♪: warnings: written by a minor, kind of dubcon but reader is very obviously into it, slapping, spitting, bondage, degradation, slight humiliation, toxic relationships, pet names, fingering, female anatomy but no pronouns or gendered terms used, i think that’s it but if i missed any please let me know!!

♫♪: a/n: originally meant to post this like. weeks ago lmao sorry <3

♫♪: minor writing smut, dni if uncomfortable!!

fuck. you don’t know why you keep doing this, if you’re being completely honest. he’s bad for you. so, horribly, unbelievably bad for you. and yet, as he sits on your couch, leaning back and propping his feet up on your coffee table like he owns the place, you don’t want to kick him out. all you wanna do is slap that stupid smirk off his face and let him fuck every single thought out of your mind.

his voice breaks you from your thoughts. “are you planning on saying anything, or am i supposed to just stare at you?” his eyes linger on your waist, following the curves of your body and leaving you feeling much too exposed for your liking.

you cross your arms over your chest defenseivly, returning his smug stare with a glare of your own. “why are you here? i thought i made it clear last time that i never wanted to see your face again.” unless it’s in between my legs, your brain adds silently, and you desperately try to shoo those thoughts away. if you start thinking about how good he is in bed, you’ll never be able to make him leave.

he clearly notices your internal struggle, raising an eyebrow and letting out a laugh that’s only slightly mocking. his condescending gaze makes your cheeks heat up with embarrassment. how does he always manage to make you feel humiliated when he’s the one who keeps crawling back? “you did, but we both know that’s not true. i bet if i looked between your legs right now you’re wet just from looking at me. you always were into the weirdest things. you found another guy willing to slap you around yet?”

your face burns at the reminder of the things you’ve asked him to do, all of them depraved and perverted in nature. from the times you’ve begged him to spit on you, to the times you’ve placed his hand on your throat and silently urged him to apply pressure while he was fucking you. it’s clear he enjoys your humiliation, a fact that only makes you more humiliated and only sends yet another pang of heat in between your legs.

“th-that’s none of your business, *scaramouche*. just- what do you want?” he flinches ever so slightly at the venomous way you say his name, and that fact that you’re calling him that at all. you never call him that, it’s always “kuni” or “scara” or some random pet name. never “scaramouche”.

after a few painfully long moments of contemplative silence, he slowly stands up and walks towards you, and you can’t help the way you reflexively lean into his touch when he grabs your chin. he chooses not to answer your question, simply tilting your head to face his as he speaks, tapping your cheek with two of his fingers. “open.”

despite your best judgment, you obey, silently opening your mouth and gazing up at him in confusion.

he simply admires the sight for a moment, then, without any kind of warning, he spits directly into your open mouth. his grip tightens on your cheeks so you can’t close your lips, and he smirks to himself as you grimace at the feeling. “you done being a bitch yet? or am i going to have to fuck it out of you?”

you glare, though he only laughs in your face at your attempt at intimidation. “you look pathetic, trying to intimidate me while my spit is sitting on your tongue and your drooling all over me like a dog. is that what you are? my pathetic, stupid little mutt? maybe i should put a leash on you. then you wouldn’t think you could leave me.”

he lets go of your cheeks, though he gives you a threatening look that promises consequences if you try to do anything other than swallow. you do, sending him another barely threatening glare as your voice comes out. “fuck off. ‘m not yours anymore.”

scara only gives you a mocking smile at your words, gripping your wrist and dragging you over to the couch before practically throwing you on the cushions. you’re suddenly thankful for that throw pillow phase you went through a few years ago. maybe celestia did have a plan besides making you waste your money.

he hovers over you, his eyes furious and his mocking smile gone, seemingly having decided to drop the faux nice facade and embrace the dominance he holds over you. his hand curls around your neck, not tight enough to choke you yet, just enough to cut off a little bit of oxygen and fill your brain with that fuzzy, soft haze. “fine. you wanna be like that, huh? i can deal with a brat.”

he yanks your pajama shorts and underwear down your legs, carelessly tossing them to a random corner of the living room before working on your shirt. he doesn’t even bother trying to take that off the right way, he simply rips the fabric down the middle and exposes your perfect tits, which he then decides to start massaging with his left hand. with his right, he takes his belt off and restrains your hands behind your back. you can’t control the moan that falls from your lips as your back arches into his touch, and you’re only a little ashamed of how desperately needy your voice sounds. “fuck, scara-!”

he grins in response, his eyes trailing from your exposed cunt to your eyes as he responds, his free hand trailing down to rub little circles against your clit. “yeah? i’m right here, doll. not going anywhere.”

scara relishes the way you jolt under his touch, body shaking as whines and mewls fall from your lips. fuck, it’s been so long. you hadn’t realized how deprived you’d been until someone was finally playing with your pussy. no one’s ever as good as scara, not since you slept with him the first time. he knows very well how much he’s ruined any other guy for you, how he’s the only one who can make you cum this hard. and he loves it.

he deems you wet enough after a few more moments of him rubbing your clit, and then he slides two of his fingers in your twitching cunt, not even bothering to take off his rings beforehand. not that you’re complaining, you both know how much you love the feeling of the metal rubbing against your insides. he notices the way you start to drift away, and lands a heavy slap to your cheek, snapping you out of the pleasure induced trace he put you in with a predatory grin. “are you trying to hide from me? you should know better.”

you can only whine in response, trying to blabber out a coherent response while on the verge of cumming your brains out all over your ex boyfriend’s fingers is much harder than it looks. all you manage is another little mewl, gazing up at him with teary eyes as you whine out the words. “not- not tryin’ to hide, kuni… p-please, need more- need- need to cum, please let me cum!”

scara only gives you another grin, clearly pleased with your performance, and he slips another finger inside you, scissoring them and making you cry out as your back arches and your legs twitch from where they’re resting on either side of his body. your moans get less coherent, but he doesn’t seem to mind. he just pulls his fingers out of your pussy and holds eye contact while licking them clean, then pulls his pants down just far enough to take his cock out. he slaps it against your clit a few times, and pats your, quickly reddening, cheek condescendingly as he speaks. “i don’t think you’ve done anything to deserve getting fucked.”

his soft pats switch to a harsh grip on your chin abruptly, and he forces your face to make eye contact with him while he continues. “why don’t you convince me, hm? tell me how sorry you are for pretending you wanted to leave me, how much you missed me. then i’ll consider it.”

scara’s grin is wicked now, staring deeply into your fucked out eyes as your face scrunches up and you start to sniffle at his denials. he’s the one who started this, why is he making you seem like the desperate one? you wouldn’t be this desperate if he had just kept his stupid hands to himself. still, though, your cunt aches from the overwhelming emptiness, little drops of slick drooling out and making a mess of your favorite blanket.

so, you obey like always, the words flowing from your lips with an ease that makes it seem like something you’ve always known, a deep rooted fact that you can’t possibly deny as you stare up at him through thick lashes with glossy eyes. “p-please, kuni, need you so bad, it hurts! i- i was wrong, wasn’t- wasn’t thinking… missed you so much, please!”

scara smiles, baring his teeth in a way that you distantly know should terrify you, but as he thrusts deeply inside you, filling you up so well with one deep stroke, you can’t find it in yourself to care anymore.

you aren’t sure you ever did.

#⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ angel’s creations ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎#genshin smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin fanfic #genshin x you #genshin x reader smut #scaramouche x reader smut #scara x y/n #scaramouche smut #scaramouche x reader #scara x reader #scaramouche

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ddarker-dreams · 1 year

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Entanglement.

Yan Kafka x F Reader.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, power imbalance, unwanted kissing, mild not SFW implications. Word count: 1k.

“You’re still refusing to wear the clothes I gifted you, dearest?”

A dulcet voice smoother than the finest silk coos from behind.

You don’t deviate from your original task. Just outside the window, the cold, unforgiving vacuum of space looms. A mere panel of specialized glass is the only barrier between you and infinite nothingness. The concept used to frighten you, to a paralyzing extent. It got to the point your oh-so-benevolent captor had to make adjustments. Using some technology you’re unacquainted with, the dark canvas morphed into a familiar, more palpable set piece: the scenery of your home planet.

You’ve since overcome this hurdle and no longer require the mirage’s services.

Space isn’t what you fear anymore. No, it’s the woman with the future in her eyes who holds that distinction.

“It isn’t to my taste.”

“I know,” she agrees. Her perfume is near stupefying when it invades your senses. “It's to mine.”

Kafka is either aggravatingly unassuming or laser-sharp with her intentions. You’re never given time to adjust to her fickle ways, the second you think you might understand her, she reveals just enough that you’re right back where you started.

Gloved fingers hover over your wrist, causing your hair to stand on end. As if she’s playing a glissando on the piano, her fingers slowly creep up, from your forearm to your bare shoulder. Presently, you’re wearing one of the few garments you were allowed to bring. It’s a plain, white dress that she longs to stain with her own palette.

Her arms envelop your midsection from behind. She nuzzles her nose into your neck, swaying you back and forth while she hums a haunting ballad. Can she hear the skipping of your heart? Does she consider it just another instrument to compose her hedonistic harmonies?

“Are the stars truly that interesting?” she murmurs against your skin. “Surely, they aren’t prettier than I am, hm?”

“Maybe. At least they understand the concept of personal space.”

“Oh, I do as well. I just choose to ignore it when it comes to you.”

“I wish you wouldn’t.”

You can feel her smile.

“You’d be lonely without me. Maddeningly so.”

“Insanity is tempting if you’re the alternative.”

She laughs, the sound low and husky, belying any offense taken, if you had the hubris to think anything you said could hurt her. Before you can register anything, she twirls you around. In this new, uncomfortable intimate position, you’re forced to look her in the eye. There’s no quality of hers that unsettles you more. They draw you in and devour you like a black hole, picking apart actions you haven’t even committed yet.

It reminds you, similar to the path she walks, that nothing you do will ever amount to any meaningful change in your circumstances.

Kafka settles her gloved pointer finger and thumb on your chin, tilting your head up. Whatever she’s thinking is as unknowable as the universe itself. Her fondness for you is an illness without a cure — even she must know how sick it is. Something tells you that if a remedy for it ever existed, she’d refuse to take it, and would instead crush the vial before your eyes.

“What a beauty you are,” she praises through lidded eyes. “There is no greater joy than knowing you feel every second we’re apart, just as I do.”

Irate, you try moving your head away, but this causes her grip to tighten. Never enough to hurt — it’s only meant to warn.

“I take it you don’t like the cosmetics I brought back, either?”

Kafka delights in asking questions she already knows the answers to. If she had anything resembling a hobby, you suppose that would be it.

The skin beneath her eyes crinkled with amusement at your abrupt vow of silence. You fight off a shiver at the look. It’s all-consuming, dangerous in a way that rouses your primal instincts. She leans down close enough that you can feel her breath fan against your face. Her head tilts in a deliberate show of faux curiosity.

“Is your tongue frozen? Should I think of a way to warm it up?”

The hand that isn’t holding your head in place toys with the strap of your dress.

Swallowing thickly, you shake your head. You know when to surrender in a losing game.

“... No.”

“No?” She repeats, mimicking the inflection of your voice. “Ah, well, that’s a shame.”

You almost sigh in relief when her hand retreats. She reaches into a pocket on the inside of her coat and pulls out a tube of lipstick. She applies the roseate pigment, maintaining smoldering eye contact with you all the while.

After what feels like an eternity, she descends upon you, her lips seeking yours in a fit of scathing passion. You freeze up at the unexpected boldness. She takes advantage of your reverie, interlocking your lips in a languid motion. There’s no urgency to the kiss, she takes her time with you, just how she likes it.

Her hand presses against your back, urging your chest to arch into hers. It isn’t until her hand starts venturing down that you return to your senses. In a fit of panic, you raise your hands to push her away. The defiance gets you nowhere — she catches your wrists with ease and holds them in place.

Fortunately, she pulls back, although she doesn’t relinquish her grip.

“I knew this color would look good on you,” Kafka sighs, almost wistful. Then, she raises your wrist and presses a lingering kiss against your pulse point. It leaves a smudged lipstick stain behind. “That leaves the issue of the outfit. Hm, what to do, what to do…”

As if hit with an epiphany, her eyes light up in microscopic supernovas. “I know. If you need my help applying makeup, then why should getting dressed be any different? Why, you should’ve said so sooner.”

Indignant, you seethe, “That isn’t…! Fine, I’ll put it on myself. Just— just turn around, okay?”

“Of course. Anything for my sweet, shy girl.”

Surprisingly, Kafka acquiesces. She pivots on her heel and covers her eyes with her hands. A teasing gesture, if you had to guess.

Just when you believe you’re regained a semblance of control over the situation, she throws in a comment that snuffs out this fledgling hope.

“I’ll give you to the count of a ten before I come and help you myself.”

#just wanted to write a little something for my Woman #kafka x reader #yandere kafka x reader #honkai star rail x reader #yandere honkai star rail x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #my stuff

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mrsnancywheeler · 4 months

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the lakes (12) // finnick odair x f. reader

summary: it's supposed to be over, you and Finnick are supposed to spend the rest of your lives helping each other heal. living as peacefully as possible, but the the third quarter quell throws a wrench in your domestic bliss.

previous chapter / next chapter

masterlist

7.9k words

warnings: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, extreme mental health issues, suicidal ideations, gore/violence/death, self-hate, allusions to trafficking, use of explicit language, more angst, mentions of vomiting, dissociation, terms of endearment, unedited, no use of y/n, a codependent couple with a shared savior complex, paranoia

When you'd realized the monkey mutts had stopped where the beach began you wanted to collapse into the sand in relief. All you could do was stare on as Peeta tried to comfort the Morphling woman who'd sacrificed herself for him before her body was raised from the waters. Even if Plutarch was supposedly in on the plan, it seemed like the arena couldn't wait to kill you all off as soon as possible. The conversation switched to finding food, another thing your brain couldn't care less about. You supposed you should be from all the running, fighting, and sweating, but you just had a huge pit in your stomach as you thought about how Finnick could have died not long ago.

It had always been a possibility that you were very consciously aware of, but the imminent threat wasn't really present. You had no qualms that he would be able to protect himself, yet he hadn't been able to when the fog came rolling in. Well, he would have been able too if hadn't come to Peeta's rescue, but to get out, that was a requirement. Adrenaline has kept you going after that, when the monkeys attacked, but the dread filling you now was like lead.

“Hey," One of Finnick's warm, calloused hands cupped your face, “What's going on, sweet girl?" His face had that endearing always somewhat cocky smirk on it that was a permanent source of comfort in your life. But you just stared at him, at those ocean eyes you would drown in if given the chance. The look in his eyes shifted to one of higher concern, “Are you hurt?" He looked up and down your figure, looking for sounds, tilting your head to see the back, looking for signs of infection and grew more concerned when he found nothing to send off alarms. “Angel, you gotta tell me what's wrong." He urged.

You tried to blink yourself out of your stupor, "Nothing just wanna be with you.”

"You are with me.”

"Yeah I know.” He looked at you suspiciously, but knew better than to push. You grabbed this hand and he squeezed it, pulling you along as he went on his search for oysters. When he was sure he found a spot and began his digging you sat down in the water. Letting the soft waves ripple across your legs, if you closed your eyes you could pretend to be home again, this was so similar.

“I'd never leave you alone, you know?" Finnick's voice brought you back from the fantasy and you looked at him quizzically. He was still digging through different areas, of course the oysters were in such unnatural places, that was a reminder of how fake the fantasy was. "I'd always come back to you. You don't have to worry about me leaving you behind, or making you feel abandoned.” You looked away, staring at the glistening waters once again. There was no words you could think of to say, you wondered if you were still in shock, it felt nothing like how it had been described, but maybe this was all some weird, fucked up trauma response the universe had left you with as further punishment. Your mind was blank of anything other than how he, your amazing, smug, caring, generous, loving Finnick could actually be taken from this world and it would keep on spinning without him. Then his hand grabbed yours once again and he effortlessly pulled you from the water to walk with him back to Katniss and Peeta.

You laid your head on Finnick's shoulder as everyone began to eat. He opened one of the oysters up and offered it to you, but you just shook your head. There was no room for hunger, no room for anything except trepidation.

He shook his head back at you, “You need to eat." Finnick offered it back to you, he was so bossy and it made you love him even more.

“I'm not hungry, Finn." You knew you were exposing yourself with the nickname, which you only used when you felt most vulnerable, but it slid off your tongue so easily in the moment.

“You're gonna talk to me now?" He asked playfully, trying to lighten the load. You scowled at him, lightheartedly elbowing him in his side and he laughed.

“You're so mean to me." You burrowed your head back into his shoulder.

He scoffed, “I just put all my effort into a monologue of my devotion to you and then you decided staring at the waters which are in front of us all the time was more interesting.”

He was right of course even if it was all in jest, but you weren't going to let him win regardless of that fact. “It was hardly a monologue-" He turned to you abruptly, you frowned when your head lost contact with your shoulder but he grabbed your hands in his.

“I don't understand why you have cared about and loved me so deeply, except in the way that I know that's how I feel about you. You being here is the bane of my existence because I know that there isn't a day I could live without seeing your smile or sweet domesticity. You don't understand why I want to protect you so badly, but it's the same way you want to protect me. There isn't a universe where I could leave you when I know you need me, I married you as a promise that I would always return to you, protect you even if you're stubborn and here anyways. Death couldn't part me from a world that you were still in.” His sea green eyes were so serious and it did reverberate within your heart, but you still let yourself laugh.

"You are such a sweet-talker.” You announced with an eye roll, knowing he was right about how you felt. Except maybe selfishly if death parted the two of you, the only assumption you had made was he'd find someone else, some other smarter, braver, prettier partner who only couldn't compare to you in their adoration of him, but maybe that was a stretch as well.

“And you are impossible to please." He quickly packed your lips which left your yearning for his honey-dripping lips for seconds longer, if you suffocated with them on your own it would be the happiest you'd ever be. “Now eat, my love." You could melt into the sand thinking about how this man would pour out a heartfelt monologue just for you to leave your head long enough to eat, he was perfect, there would never be anyone else like him, and there never had been. He was it for you.

Screams interrupted your thoughts and you instantly stood up, “That's new." Peeta said as he rose as well, you all stood, staring across the beach where water seemed to be overflowing a portion of the jungle. Flooding that rushed from the trees and was so tall it was as high as the Cornucopia that bounced against, leaving large waves to rush up your feet. A drone came to pick up a body and it solidified in your brain that regardless of what Plutarch had planned these were never meant to be long Games, nor particularly violent with all the events occuring.

“Someone's here." Katniss said sharply, quickly pulling out an arrow, ready to shoot. You looked at the figures approaching from the jungle, not too far away. The aggressive motions of one of the figures nearly instantly told you who it was.

“Johanna." You whispered out and then Finnick was running forward.

“Johanna!" He shouted, catching her attention. You followed after him as she yelled back at him. Beetee and Wiress instantly run into the water when you realize Johanna’s figure was so obscured because she was covered head to toe in blood.

“Oh my god, what got you?" You asked, there was no way that much was hers or even someone else's. It was clotted in her hair, her skin, each piece of fabric.

“We were all the way, deep into the jungle where I thought it was going to be safe. That's when the rain started, I thought it was water, it turns out to be blood. Hot, thick blood, coming down. It was choking us! We were stumbling around, gagging on it blind.” Johanna signs through her explanation, ignoring Wiress’ mutters of tick, tock, tick, tock. Which you push away as well as just Wiress being Wiress. “That's when Blight hit the forcefield, he wasn't much, but he was from home.”

"What's wrong with her?” Katniss asks about Wiress, still muttering.

“She's in shock." Beetee is washing the blood of his glasses in the sea water. “Dehydration isn't helping, do you have fresh water?"

“We can get some."

Wiress is clinging to Johanna, desperately repeating her mantra. Who's trying to shove the older woman off, for most of you this is just the dynamic that's been accepted. You've each accepted a role to maintain relationships with one another, Wiress the crazy one, and Johanna the aggressive one. Katniss is put off and runs to Johanna, ready to fight.

“Hey what're you doing?" Johanna yells, Finnick trying to pull her away as you try to get between her and Katniss. “I got them out for you!” They're finally ripped apart when Peeta has his arms around a visibly confused Katniss. "Let go of me, Finnick!”

"Let's just go get you cleaned off.” You tilt your head walking with her and Finnick into the water. "I'm sorry about Blight.”

"Yeah.” She says gruffly as she dunked her head into the water, blood instantly beginning to spread into the once clear waters.

"And I didn't really get to thank you for saving me earlier, so thank you, Johanna.”

"Well I'm sure he would've killed me himself if I hadn't.” She nodded her head at Finnick. “Better go make a better impression with the Girl on Fire over there." She rolled her eyes, stalking over in that direction.

“Deep down she appreciates a thank you." Finnick's wrapped his arms around you from behind and you sway in the water. You hummed in agreement, just enjoying the feeling of his arms around you. What you would give for this to be the two of you in your kitchen back home is immeasurable as well as the things you would do to get that back.

“Were you serious though?" You blurt out, forcing yourself to acknowledge your feelings with him. There's a beat which you figure must be confusion as he tries to figure out what you're referring too. Before you have a chance to add on, he'd seemingly figured it out though.

“Of course I was serious. You don't have to worry because you're not gonna get rid of me that easily, angel." He chuckles, his lips pressed to the side of your head. You nod slowly,

“Thank you." You mumbled out, embarrassed that you'd even let the anxiety take over, but also not completely convinced. It felt shameful that no amount of words or actions was seemingly able to convince the deepest parts of your soul of anything but the worst.

“It's a clock!" Katniss yelled out catching everyone's attention, she helped Wiress out of the water where they've been sitting and began walking towards the Cornucopia . “This entire arena seems to be laid out like a clock, with a new threat every hour, but they stay only within their wedge.” Katniss explains and you all follow her, "It all starts with the lightning, then the blood rain, fog, monkeys, that's the first four hours. At 10 that big wave points from over there.” She points forward, Wiress stops walking. As if she's cautious of something.

“Wiress, you're a genius." Finnick smiles as you all keep trekking forward.

“The tail points at 12." Peeta observes when you reach the shining Cornucopia.

“That's where the lighting strikes at noon and midnight.” Katniss further explains.

“Strikes where?" Beetee asks, holding his coil of wire close.

“That big tree." She points once more and Beetee seems pleased, Wiress sits down on the edge of the rocks murmuring a nursery rhyme to herself.

"Great job, Wiress. We'll try and listen more next time.” You patted her shoulder before following the rest of the group to where a circle is being drawn out in the sand. Dividing it up in the clock like sectors of the arena. Trying to find out what comes next in each portion of the arena.

“It doesn't matter as long as we steer clear of whichever sect is active, we'll be safe, yeah?”

" Relatively speaking.” Finnick nods along and then Wiress' ambience of nursery rhymes is quiet and she gasps. Your head shoots towards where she would be and there's Gloss, knife in Wiress' chest. Before you'd even had a chance to react Katniss’ arrow had pierced through his chest, you'd no clue where she'd come from, but you could hear a sound of outrage from Cashmere. You followed the sound and saw her lunging forward, blindly trying to avenge her brother. Without a second thought you'd shoved Katniss out of the way and a knife was flying out of your hand into Cashmere's heart. Her head hit the ground and that dreadful buildup of guilt was returning. She'd always been kind to you, there were amicable jokes and small complaints to one another at parties. An understanding that you'd struggled through the same, ever present issues and now you were once again the person cutting that life short after allowing a bond to be created. But you had to keep Katniss safe, to get her out of the arena, regardless of the consequences.

The Career pack had seemingly crept up on all of you, Finnick and Peeta were fighting off the attacks of Brutus and Enobaria. Your next knife barely missed Enobaria as she fled to the other side of the Cornucopia, Katniss’ arrow doing similarly with Brutus. Peeta tried to run after them, even if people talked about him like he was the weaker one, you'd seen from the way he trained with Brutus that it was anything, but true. Finnick knew that regardless of Peeta's strength he needed to be protected, kept alive, so he blocked him from the chase. Katniss; however, did try to follow after them, make sure the two were gone, Johanna followed behind. Under no circumstances could you let the Mockingjay get hurt, Peeta was because of that, but she was the one you'd been instructed to get out.

You looked over at Finnick, trying to communicate with him that you'd be following and he gave a curt nod. Only a few steps in though you were completely thrown off your balance, your brain started buzzing. You weren't sure what was going on except that your hands were desperately searching for crevices in the rocks to hold onto. The force of the wind whipped at your skin so hard it genuinely hurt and your fingers tried not to slip on the wet rocks. It was spinning, the Cornucopia was spinning around at full force, trying to throw you off, you tried to calm down. Focus on seeing if you could spot Finnick through the water sprays and the way it hit your face in harsh droplets. It wasn't that different from being on a boat, crabbing when the weather got difficult, being tossed around. Maybe if you shut your eyes that's what you could imagine this was, but then your hands were slipping and you were trying to force your body to stay still. Fingers blindly searching for another crevice, rocks scratching at them as you tried to dig your fingers into the rock. Body sliding down, it didn't matter that you could swim, if the impact was too harsh you could go unconscious on impact and no amount of experience in the water could save you from that.

Finnick would be okay though, if anyone was fine it would surely be him. He'd know exactly where to place his grip, he'd be strong enough to hold on, he could probably hold onto someone else too. Those thoughts are quickly cut short when you hear yourself screaming as something, something sharp, has lodged itself into your back. Breathe, you tell yourself digging your fingers into the rock deeper. Something is tearing into your back, the pressure of the wind definitely isn't helping, and you're barely able to focus on keeping hold of the slick rocks. Through the wind you can hear more screams, shouts, too obscure to make out who the belong to, but it reminds you that you need to survive long enough to rescue Katniss, you need to keep holding on.

Finally, the movement is slowing down, at least you think it is, maybe your perception of speed has just changed. By the time the Cornucopia comes to a stop you still feel dizzy, like a phantom of the spinning. When your brain stops buzzing the pain in your back is worse than you expected. It's torturous to try and stand, but you bite your lip, trying not to groan as you stand. Your legs are wobbly at first and then you hear Finnick call your name.

“Finnick there's something in my back." He's running towards you, eyes full of concern. Your taking deep breaths to try and move through the pain, “I need you to take it out."

Soon he's behind you and before you can say anything more his hand grabs yours from behind, "This is gonna hurt a lot-”

"Don't tell me, just rip it out, like a bandaid.”

"Angel, I can't do that. I'll do it as fast as I can, but I can't just tear it out without causing more damage." His fingers are rubbing circles on the back of your hand.

You're crying a little and even though it causes more pain you laugh a little, “It's one of those stupid scalpel chains isn't it?"

“Yeah, sweet girl, squeeze my hand as hard as you need too." You're nodding, putting the free arm to your mouth to try and muffle yourself if you scream at all. Trying not to bite when you realize this is just as excruciating as the fog had been, fingernails digging into Finnick's hand as he pulls out each piece of the chain. “I've got you, angel, it's okay." By the time all the pressure from the chain has left your back you feel faint. “There we go, all done, you did such a good job." There's no chance to acknowledge him when you're letting yourself run to the edge so you can hurl into the water.

You force yourself to keep standing, “How bad is it?"

“Just deep enough to stick, but you're gonna be okay.” Finnick helps you steady yourself, avoiding the tender wounds on your back.

"Let's just get what we need and get off this bloody island." Johanna says and everyone complies.

“I can carry you, if you want." Finnick offers, already helping you across the rocks.

“I can walk, Finnick, I'm sure soon enough we'll be hit with something else that gives me enough adrenaline that I won't even feel it." You shrug, trying to force yourself to have good spirits. “And I still think hypothermia was worse so-"

He lets himself laugh, shaking his head, “You say that about everything."

“Because it's true! I was so cold that I felt like I was on fire and I was seeing things, I'm sure my back can take a few hits."

"Okay, angel, whatever you say.”

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

You don't know how long had passed since they stripped you of your wet, muddied, bloodied clothes, or since they injected you with something that made you pass out until you woke with seemingly no injuries to remind you of the past except the stitches in your side. You do know that now they've allowed you rest, before you're thrust back into the Capitol to be seen, to be crowned. The blankets felt like the softest thing to ever grace your skin and the mattress itself is a blessing, but you can't appreciate it when your eyes bore into the wall, guilt infesting your bloodstream.

Light floods into the room and you fear that you've been lost in your head for so long it's already time for them to play dress up with your lifeless body. But his scent is something you've always known instantly, saltwater, sand, the smell of home. You don't even look at him, there's no point, you need the darkness to engulf you and let you have a redo.

“I wish you let me die in that arena." You don't recognize your own voice, so hoarse, so numb.

He took a cautious step into the room, “I know." Finnick sounds like he's already resigned himself to this, to whatever this is. You finally tear your eyes from the walls, briefly having let them pass over his figure, but doing nothing more than scooting over. You hope he got the message you silently urged for and of course he does, he gets you so well. When his body heat is by yours once again, you resent that you're able to have it, that you fought to have it.

‘You don't deserve to cry,’ is what you had begun to tell yourself the moment they grabbed you from that arena. The tears of a murderer do little to those whose blood they've shed. Yet when his hand is cupping your cheek, you feel the tears returning. The longer the silence persists, the better you'll be able to hold back from crying, but eventually you succumb to the uprising of tears and you've probably stained whatever Finnick is wearing.

“He's my best friend Finnick." Was. He was your best friend. Before you dug your talons in, chewed up the parts you needed, and kept the blood on your hands. That bright, beautiful boy that by all means you were supposed to end up with. You'd resisted that ending so much the universe had seemingly decided to make it a tragedy instead. “My best friend." His home was yours, his family was one with you, but you had to be selfish and greedy, so karma took its place.

Finnick's hands cradled your head, and you let yourself push away just to melt right back into them. “And he tried to kill you."

It made you seethe, how dare he be right, "Because I used him, I did that to him. He should have killed me, I'm not meant for this, Finnick.”

"Angel, the Capitol is eating out of your hand, you go out there, you smile and laugh, they love it. And then you walk straight off that stage to me.” You've sat up, trying to stop the hyperventilation that's taken control of your body. You can feel his hands on yours, trying to guide your breathing, but your brain felt too loud to even attempt to follow.

“Why'd you let me do it? You should've told me it was stupid, you should've let him win. He has a family who cares about him, oh my god his family!" Maybe it's not fair to blame Finnick, it had been your idea after all, but it helps because you felt like the insurmountable grief would eat you alive.

He pressed his forehead to yours, “I know, I know, angel, I'm sorry." Later you'll feel more remorse for what you said, but now you could barely breathe.

"You'd said you wanted to keep me safe and now I've screwed it all up because the world is punishing me."

Finnick had gone back to trying to steady your face, for his hands to calm you, which only works to remind you every one in a while to breathe. “Nothing is punishing you, this isn't your fault."

“No, it is, it's all my fault, Finnick! I couldn't just be satisfied with how my life was supposed to be. I wanted you so bad and pushed away my fate and so now the universe has to punish me"

“Stop it." His voice is grounded, caring but stern like the way he's been holding your face. “Don't do that, sweet girl, no one is getting retribution against you for anything.”

"What are the odds? Who does that happen to, Finnick? I just happened to get pulled in the same year as my best friend who everyone knows I'm supposed to end up with and then suddenly you want me again?”

"The odds are never in anyone's favor. And I wanted you anyways.”

You've begun scratching at your chest, which you've never done before, but the newfound anxieties seem to have taken over. But Finnick instantly is pulling your hands away. "I'm not meant for this, I'm just supposed to be the person who gets married and lives in some small house on the beach, who goes to the markets, not this.”

“And you put on a show for them, angel, and then we get to go back home and live that life as much as possible. You only have to keep the act up for them." You didn't have it in you to keep explaining otherwise, you were exhausted, although part of you told yourself you'd be better off without sleep, that you didn't deserve rest. Finnick could of course sense it all and pulled you into his chest. The warmth you'd so missed finally fully surrounding you, protecting you from everything, even your own thoughts for a little while. It was a heat you so desperately craved and the idea you'd never feel it again had haunted you when you'd almost died in the cold. So you nuzzled yourself deeper into his chest, "Get some rest, sweet girl.” His lips pressed to the top of your head.

Your brain refused to rest peacefully, but if you so much as mumbled in your sleep Finnick was there to soothe you until it passed and eventually he was waking you. For a moment, when your eyes had just fluttered open, it was easy to imagine that it was just you and Finnick back home, that none of that had occurred had ever happened. Maybe if you convince yourself of that delusion for long enough it would be an easy enough fantasy to slip into whenever you needed to give the Capitol a facade of joy. You were a victor after all.

“They're just going to do the same process that happened before the parade before your stylist gets whatever she had planned ready. I'll be there when you're done."

"Finnick, I'm sorry.”

"You don't have to apologize to me.” He understood what you'd gone through, he'd been there too and even though you knew that it still felt cruel to have blamed him for anything related to your actions.

"I-” He interrupted you with a kiss, you'd almost forgot what his mouth was like, the taste of honey on his lips.

"I’ll meet you after, angel.” He parted ways with you at the sleek, silver door to a scarily, clinical room. Soon enough you were being surrounded by a flock of your designing team to get your primped to the nines.

“You literally had me on the edge of my seat, it was divine." One of them squawked, making sure your body was completely devoid of any hair they hadn't specially planned to be there. You simply smiled as gratefully as you could, nodding along with each remark they made.

“We need more games like you, I mean they're all interesting, but you brought such a kick to it. One of the most entertaining by far!" One squealed, trimming your nails. Making a small look of disgust when he pulled out the dried mud and blood lodged underneath your fingernails.

“Oh, you'll be a must have at my big birthday gala next month. You will come won't you?” The woman with bright green hair who was powdering something onto your face asked eagerly.

“Of course, you've all done so much for me!" Your face hurt from the forced smiles as you gushed, and they oohh’d and aahh’d at your performance.

“You are the sweetest little thing, I could just burst!" The green haired woman waved her hands around expressively, the others nodding along with her.

“Anyone who doesn't already love you, will have to now!" The man announced, putting down your hand.

“Well we've done the makeup Cambrie requested, so we’ll let her know you're ready for the dress. It's simply divine. You'll wait right in there." You were ushered into a much more comfortable looking room and the smell of food instantly made you salivate. You'd forgotten how long it had been since you'd last eaten, especially something more than small fish, rabbits, berries, and nuts. Instantly you dove into each dish you could, eager to finally fill your stomach that has longed for food for over a week now.

You'd nearly eaten your fill when Cambrie’s bright voice filled the room. “I knew it would be you, I told everyone I could how much of a sweetheart you were! And now everyone wants one of my looks. You are such a blessing!” She kissed both of your cheeks,"You know what they're calling you?” You shook your head, not sure if you really wanted to know. "A Princess!” She squealed, obviously filled with glee."That's amazing to work with."

You smiled as big as you could to match hers, “Oh I'm flattered, but why that?"

“I mean look at you, the sweet, little girl from District 4 with two men pining to have her. Not a slob like some of the victors from past years, perfectly kind and refined." If it was considered kind and refined to manipulate and kill other children, then you guessed you would fit the bill. “So your dress reflects that, the princess style as one would say. I would've loved to incorporate a tiara, but since you'll be crowned at the end of the night we had to forego that."

The dress shimmered like the ocean in sunlight,"It's beautiful.” You said starting at the gown, it felt wrong to dressed in the Capitol's finest as Conway was being shipped in a wooden coffin back home.

“Just like you!" Cambrie clapped her hands together before leading you out of the room to where you'd wait to be presented back in front of Panem. Finnick immediately caught your eye and you resisted running straight to him.

“You look beautiful." He had a twinkle in his eye, that made you want to slip back into the fantasy that all of this wasn't because you'd won the Hunger Games, that it was just a regular day.

“You're not too bad yourself.” You shrugged with a playful smile. Then faster than anticipated it was time to go, Finnick squeezed your hand encouragingly. You let your smile fall for a fraction of a second to take a deep breath before plastering it back on.

“You've got this.” He whispered, kissing your hand before releasing it as you walked towards the steps of the stage.

“You know her, you love her, our very own Capitol Princess and victor of the 69th Annual Hunger Games!" He shouted your name into the microphone to a resounding applause as you walked onto the stage. Making sure to wave to everyone you could each of whom flailed their arms in excitement. “I think I speak for all of us when I say we're very excited to have you back." People cheered in agreement as you let out an airy laugh in response.

“Well Ceaser, I'm glad to be back, everyone is so kind!" You were smiling so hard your nose scrunched up, in hopes that they found it adorable.

“I would ask you what you're most excited for now that you're back, but I think we know the answer to that one." He quirked his eyebrows and the audience murmured in agreement.

You felt your face getting hot and looked down shyly, “Oh Ceaser-" You tried to make yourself seem as much like a hopeful romantic, innocent girl as you could. Maybe it could reverse the effects that manipulating Conway may have had on how you were perceived.

“Am I right? Have you been able to rekindle flames with a certain Capitol Darling?" You hid your face in your hands for a second, kicking your legs, the audience laughed, and you were certain there must be cameras somewhere planted on Finnick to try and capture a reaction. "I think we know what that means.” Caesar shot his blinding smile at the crowd who cheered.

“All I can say is there are many things I'm excited to return to, and people." You'd accepted since your interview that if you did win then your romantic life would be of great interest to the Capitol, so you didn't shy away from playing into it, giving a small, longing look off the side of the stage that the cameras would be sure to pick up.

“And I suppose for now you'll make us settle for that as an answer?"

“For now, Caesar, a woman has to have her secrets." You repeated, alluding back to your original interview, and the audience gave a playful groan.

"Well then, for now, that's an answer we'll have to be happy with. But I know we're all burning to go over these highlights with you.” The highlights, your moment to try and keep up the persona while rewatching the moments already ingrained into your mind. Everyone watching seemed eager with anticipation of the cheers were any indicator.

“I wouldn't want to keep anyone waiting then." Your gaze was purposely wide and as doe-eyed as you could make it be. The Bloodbath was first, your kills, the alliance and you were able to maintain the facade as he pestered you about your abilities with the knife. You distracted your brain with how cold the auditorium seemed to be, how thin the fabric of the dress was which left you trying not to shiver. Then it was conversations with Conway and you tried even harder to play into the act while trying to detach yourself from reality.

“I know some people were definitely rooting for you and Conway in the tragedy of it all, but I have to ask, and I want you to be honest. Did you love him?"

“He was my closest friend in the world, of course I loved him." Not like how he wanted you too, or how you knew logically you should have loved him, but it was love. Your voice was soft, sweet, and trembled with the fear of tears. Which you decided could actually be helpful at some point to keep painting yourself in this light.

You could have sworn you saw audience members crying, not because they cared about you, or him, but because to them this was a tale of tragedy that added a kick to their entertainment. Caesar hummed, “But you loved someone else more?" His voice was softer in the microphone as well.

You looked at him, “Only one of us was going to come out of the arena, it wasn't a matter of who I loved more." What a lie, if it was Finnick you were certain you'd give it all up for him in a split second. Sounds of sobs filled your ears and you pushed down the anger you felt at these people for how they'd ripped your life, Conway's life apart , just to cry over it now. Next was the highlight where you'd almost died and that was much easier to talk about, besides the fact that you could currently feel how cold your nose was getting which made your body want to curl up, you took every muscle to resist that impulse though.

“What were you thinking when that parachute was flying down from the sky?"

“Honestly, Caesar, it's fuzzy, but I'm pretty sure I was hallucinating." You forced a nervous laugh which the audience returned in full force and so did Ceased. You turned your body to face them, “However since then all I've wanted to say is thank you, to all of you who sponsored me during the games." The tears about Conway you let spill in full force about this instead, silently hoping it would win even more people over. “I'm just so grateful for all the generosity you've shown me and I will forever be." The crowd gave out noises of approval.

When the coverage of the battle between your allies and the Careers began and all the way up to those you cared about most in those Games, you let your soul float into the clouds. Allowing a smiley, teary eyed autopilot to take over your brain. You don't remember leaving autopilot until you were seated in some sort of throne-like chair, President Snow giving a speech to the citizens of Panem. He turned to you and you rose as he approached you with a crown, a crown that represented how you backstabbed your way to the top.

You bowed your head slightly as he placed the cold metal on your head, “Wonderful job, my dear." He said gruffly with a smile and although you could feel your body shaking, you forced one back.

“Thank you, Mr. President."

Yet he reiterated his statement in a way that gave you chills that you couldn't understand, “A wonderful job, you've really proven what these games are about."

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

"Did we leave the spile in one of the trees?” You ask, dehydration certainly isn't helping how lightheaded you felt.

Peeta nods, “Yeah, impossible to know which one though."

"I'll go find it then.” You volunteered.

"I need to give the beach a good walk around, as well, let my brain finish thinking something up.” Beetee stood up, coil of wire in hand.

“You're not going alone." Finnick objected, ready to go with you.

“I'm not going alone, I have Beetee. We'll be fine, Finnick, it's a circle you'll be able to see us the whole way around." He looked reluctant, but knew there wasn't much he could do unless he followed you around, but he couldn't leave Johanna to take care of both Katniss and Peeta.

He sighed, “Be safe." His tone was even, straight-laced, “Beetee make sure she doesn't do anything stupid."

You scoffed, “I'm looking for a spile!" But Beetee nodded to Finnick. “I’ll be fine! If I need you I'll scream." He exhaled, running a hand through his hair.

“I'll send out a search party if you're not back in 20 minutes."

You looked around the arena slowly before looking back at him, “I'm sure there's no way of telling, but I'll be back. I promise." You smiled and he's still frowning, but he kisses your forehead and lets you walk off with Beetee.

“20 minutes!" He shouts after you as you begin walking around the perimeter of the beach, looking around the trees.

“So what's your plan with that?" You nod towards the coil Beetee is fiddling with.

“We've got water, lighting, a conductor, everything we need to electrocute." Beetee responds, you're ducking in and out of the trees. Searching for where the spile could be nestled in. You're far enough that you can't really see the group through all the trees, but that doesn't bother you until you hear a scream. It's far enough away that it's faint, screams of a young girl and then Katniss. You and Beetee are looking around, listening to the noise that's carried only by the breeze, when another voice enters the cacophony. It's familiar to you, but your brain struggles to process the sound. “That's you." Beetee says slowly.

Your brain does; however, instantly register the next scream, calling your name, Finnick. Instantly you'd ran out of the treeline back into the sand, back to where you'd left the group. “Finnick!" You screamed back, heart racing in panic. “Johanna, where's Finnick?" Both him and Katniss are gone, you can hear their shouts on top of the other noises.

“He followed her in." Johanna tilted her head towards the jungle and your legs instantly started moving, to find him, to show him the screams aren't really you. “It's already closed off, you can't go in."

"What do you mean, closed off?” You get your answer instantly when your hands touch the shield surrounding the woods the screams are coming from. You see Katniss running forward screaming and Peeta comes up by you, telling her it's just the birds. What birds? She's being hounded by them as she falls to the ground and you realize the screams are coming from them.

“Jabberjays." Beetee says, coming up behind you. You let your hands trace along the wall as you keep walking.

“What're you doing?" Johanna asks, exasperated.

“I have to find him, if he can at least see me-" Her scoff interrupts you but you keep darting your eyes through the trees in this clear cage, following it.

“He knows by now that it's not really you.”

"I know that!” You don't mean to snap at her, it frustrates you that you even pulled your eyes away from the jungle. "I know him, Johanna, and if he can see me then he'll know for certain that I'm okay." You're about to turn in the jungle as you follow the wall but Johanna grabs your arm, you start to shove her off. “Let go of me!”

"You go in there and it could be the next hour, the moment those stupid mutts are done, whatever is in there you'll be stuck with.”

"I don't care!”

She grabs you again, "But he does!” The frustration makes you want to cry all over again. She's right and that infuriates you, looking back inside the bubble when you catch a glimpse of him. Sitting, knees to his chest, covering his ears as he whispers something to himself, eyes clenched shut as birds flutter around him.

You don't care if he can't hear you when you hit the wall, “Finnick! Finnick!" Johanna mumbles something, but you don't listen. Too busy trying to beg him to look your way, but he doesn't. All you can do is watch him as he talks to himself, the way his fingers dig into the side of his head, how hurt he looks. You hate yourself, for disregarding him to go search for the stupid spike, for letting him be there for you and now not being there for him. "There's gotta be a way to break it.” Your voice cracks.

"I helped design the technology, it's unbreakable." Beetee’s voice is quiet in the clamor going on in your head. You hate him too right now for giving them this, something to stop you from getting to him. Forehead pressed to the wall as you let yourself cry, let the shame take over your body. You've forced yourself to keep your eyes on him, to suffer more, a just punishment for allowing this to happen. If you'd stayed out then the screams wouldn't have ever lured him in deeper. At some point he removed his hands from his ears and began to stare forward numbly. Allowing the birds to screech in his ears with your stolen voice, you resent yourself more for not trying harder, for letting him slip into such a state even if there was nothing more to do. Centuries seem to pass when suddenly there's a silence and your head falls forward, the wall is gone, the birds are lying on the jungle floor.

Instantly you're running forward, you want to scream out in relief that it's finally over, but you're terrified to startle him. You kneel down in front of him, there are streaks on his face from what must have been tears, but now he's just blank. “Finn?" It's whispered, so as not to put him on alert.

Slowly his eyes moved to your face, at first it's somewhat untrusting, like he doesn't believe it's really you. The worry on your face must prove to him otherwise because that look is soon gone.

“Are you okay?" You know the answer is no, but you don't know what else to say, too guilt ridden to think of a way to help.

“Yeah, I'm fine." He mutters and you nod just kneeling by him.

Your stomach is churning, it felt like your blood was full of pure, unfiltered anxiety, so you force your foot not to tap, but you can feel your toes twitching. “I'm sorry.” You croaked out and he shook his head again, "No, I am, I'm sorry Finnick. I should've stayed with you, I should've-"

“Are you hurt?" His hoarse voice asks, it's numb like the way his eyes are.

“No, Finnick, I was fine, I am fine!"

“Then it doesn't matter." He shrugs.

“It matters to me." Finnick looks at you, like your words are finally sinking into him. Cautiously you bring your hands up to his, “Do you wanna go to the beach? We can, we can go there." Besides the fact he always wanted to be at the beach back home, that was especially true when the episodes of not being able to ignore the burden on his shoulders happened. Your own uncertainness made you angry with yourself, he was always putting on a facade to be strong when you needed him too and now when it was your turn, you couldn't even stop your voice from shaking. His head moved ever so slightly, “Yeah? Come on." Slowly you began to rise, keeping your hands on his as he stood as well. As carefully as you could you guided him back to the sands of the beach, to the waters.

He instantly submerged himself in the water as he sat down, letting waves rise on him. You followed suit, wrapping your arms around him and he leaned back into you. “Don't leave me either." Finnick eventually spoke, the setting sun highlighting his face.

You shook your head furiously, “I won't." Maybe you didn't understand what about you he found grounded or endeared him, but you did know you never wanted to see or even think of him the way you just had, again. You also accepted there would never be a day where you didn't think about it, what you did, how he looked, how he acted, how scared he seemed. It would haunt you and you would let it, if only to make sure it never happened again. Part of you wished the seawater would consume the both of you here, forever immortalize you with it and make sure there was never a moment you could be parted from each other's arms. Yet a larger piece of you was more determined than ever to execute the plan the best you could so you could be free of the control and mind games of the Capitol, so you could just live the rest of your life out with Finnick the way you'd both intended. To end it all, no matter what it took, so nobody else would have to live the life of the so-called ‘Victor.’

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

I cannot thank you all enough for reading, this was a longer one and I'm sorry it took so long to get out. feedback, likes, comments, reblogs, are all super appreciated and my ask box is open, I'm slowly getting through requests as well! you're all so amazing and sweet, it's really kept my passion for this series alive and I have so many ideas. again thank you all so much for reading 💋

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sinofwriting · 20 days

Text

So Many Reasons - Ollie Bearman

Words: 3,343 Summary: She honestly just wants to go to these two races to see her brother so he won’t complain about never seeing her anymore that is it. She has exams, an internship, and a job, she doesn’t have time for any of this. Note(s): Thank you V once again for commissioning the fic! I had a lot of fun writing it and may or may not have spent an hour researching different business degrees and universities and such. Reader is Andrea Kimi Antonelli’s older sister. Age gap of 3 years between her and Ollie. Not good family dynamics between her and Kimi and their father.

Taglist | Masterlist | Emergency Dental Fund

“Andrea, no.” Her voice is firm, perhaps harsh but she doesn’t care. She was tired, hungry, and had to stay up for at least another six hours. Her last red bull in her bag sounded better every second. “C’mon, sorella. It is my first F2 race. You can miss a few classes.” Her jaw clenches and she forces herself to take a deep breath. Thank god this was just a phone call. “No, Andrea. I can’t. I have exams.” “Ask for an extension.” “Andrea,” she snaps. “Does padre know you are asking me this?” His voice is quiet, “no.” She sighs, pushing away her work. “How is your school work going?” “It’s fine.” “And the sim?” “Good.”

It’s quiet between the two siblings.

“It’s been months since we last saw each other. Do you not miss me?” “We saw each other at Christmas.” She reminds him but softens. “Of course I do. But I’m busy. I can’t take a few days away to go to a race, at least not one that’s not in Europe.” She looks at her planner, at the days blocked out with different colors. Purple for exams, blue for classes, yellow for work, green for work and classes, the dreaded orange for when she had both exams and work. It was filled for days, weeks, and months. “I could maybe make it for Imola.” She’d have to talk to her professors, put in her time now for work, but she didn’t have any exams the day after his feature race. “Maybe even Monaco if you can get me a spare pass.” She shouldn’t go to Monaco, not with her final exams to obtain her MBA starting just the day after the race, but she didn’t have any work those days and she could always bring her books with her. “Really?” She smiles at the excitement in his voice. “Really. Are you sure you want your big sister around?” “Yes. It will be nice to have family in the paddock. Someone other than dad.” She hums, eyes widening as they catch the time. “Let me know about the passes for the different races, okay? As soon as you get them I’ll talk to my professors.” “I will.” “Bye Andrea.” “Bye.”

—

“Mr. Garcia?” She knocks on the door frame. “You asked to see me?” He smiles, beckoning her in. “Yes. Please sit.” He gestures at the chairs in front of his desk before quickly typing something. She sits down, smoothing the fabric of her skirt. “I wanted to talk to you about your plans after you get your MBA.” “I’d like to get a travel position or be able to work remotely half of the time. Then I think after ten years of doing that, I’d like to take a bigger account or two.” He hums, looking at her consideringly. “Why the travel position?” “I like traveling, going to different places, and when I went once before with Maria, I liked what she had to do.” “You're also good with languages.” “Yes.” “And the hybrid?” She fidgets a little. “The same reasons really as the travel position and I like the extended hours.” His lips twitch into a smile, “Maria hated remote.” She nods.

“She said you’d be suited for it.” Her leg that had started to bounce stops. He leans forward, “I’d like to keep you on. I know that your internship with Maria ends the first week of May. And that you’re only supposed to continue to work with us until August. But I’d like to offer you the remote position, starting June 20th.” She looks at him with a slight open mouth. “What,” she clears her throat. “What exactly would that look like?” He pushes forward a folder. “All of the details are in there, but there are two important things. There will only be a few days every month that require you in the office. Those days are always made known at least two weeks in advance, some as much as six months.” She nods. “The second is you will have strict deadlines. Miss two within a three month period and you will be on probation, meaning that for a time you will be spending at least eighty hours in office for the month, until your probation is up. Look over all the details and get back to me next week.” “Of course.” Taking the folder, she stares at it before standing. “Thank you, Mr. Garcia.” “Of course, Ms. Antonelli.”

—

“Andrea!” She calls, seeing him looking around. His head turns to look at her, a large grin taking over his face. “Sorella!” He calls, jogging over to her. “You made it.” She rolls her eyes, pushing him away when he tries to give her a hug. “I told you two weeks ago I’d make it to Imola. It’s not my fault, you don’t listen.” She touches her ears before giving him a quick hug. “How are you feeling?” “Good.” She hums, following him as he leads her to what she assumes is Prema’s space for this race.

The good was false that was more than clear to see, if she wasn’t his sister, she’d know just by looking at the F2 races so far. Round four with no podiums? Or pole position. Her brother was surely smarting. She wondered if it had hit him yet that he wasn’t the most talented driver in this series yet.

Entering the Prema garage she smiles when Rene immediately greets her.

“How are you?” “I’m good. Very good. How are you? How is Angelina?” “I am good, I’m sure you saw the Indycar news.” She nods, watching as Andrea starts talking to either a mechanic or an engineer. “I did. It sounds amazing.” “Very amazing. And Angelina, well,” He pauses, turning his head and calling her over.

“Oh, Y/N.” “Angelina.” She greets back, melting into the hug the older woman gives. “How are you doing?” “I’m doing good. And you are well?” “Of course, it is the season.” She smiles at her, knowing all too well how much everyone loved the motorsport season.

“Kimi!” Angelina calls and she has to stop herself from flinching at the use of his nickname. “You did not tell me that your sister was coming.” He shrugs, “She’s coming next race as well.” “You are coming to Monaco?” She shrugs, adjusting her purse. “It’s my last free time before my exams and Andrea asked when I was going to come.” Rene and Angelina share a look but before either can say anything, someone interrupts.

“Angelina, Dino and Antonio are wondering about the next shoot.” The older woman sighs, “And neither of them could get me themselves.” He shoots her a grin, and it’s the sight of his grin that makes her realize that this is Andrea’s teammate. “I volunteered.” Angelina shakes her head, muttering under her breath but leaves the small group.

“Ah, Ollie, this Y/N. Y/N, this is Ollie.” Rene introduces. She shakes his hand. “Nice to meet you.” “You as well. Are you new to the team?” “No.” She laughs, pulling her hand from his. “Just a guest for this race and next.” “Oh.” He looks at Rene questioningly, but the older man is already in conversation with other people. “I could give you a tour, if you’d like.” “You don’t need to do that.” He smiles, giving a small shrug with his shoulders. “I don’t mind.” “Don’t you have race prep?” She can see just behind him, Andrea talking to another two people, their heads all gathered around a tablet. “I finished mine already.” Her lips purse. “At least let me get you a coffee from Ferrari’s hospitality.” Her nose nearly wrinkles at the word coffee, but Ferrari… She wasn’t into motorsports by choice, but she was Italian. She knew the allure of Ferrari and more so now Charles Leclerc than the team itself better than anyone. “So, coffee?” He grins. She sighs but nods. “Just one though.” She doesn’t think she could stomach another one.

“You don’t like coffee do you?” He asks nearly twenty minutes later as she sips at the coffee he got her and she chooses not to think too hard about the money she tried to hand him that he refused. “No.” She laughs. “But you like Ferrari.” “I’m Italian, Ollie. I think I get kicked out of the country, especially this part if I don’t bleed rosso corsa.” “Yet your brother is a Mercedes junior.” She pauses, “My brother?” His eyebrows furrow. “I’m sorry, it’s just Kimi, he has a picture of you. I asked about it once, because I already knew what his girlfriend looked like.” “I didn’t know that.” She wondered when the picture was from. Not from this Christmas, that was for sure. Ollie stares at her for a few seconds, something dancing in his eyes before turning the conversation back around. “It is a bit funny isn’t it? An Italian choosing Mercedes, while an Englishman chooses Ferrari.” “A second Charles Leclerc in the making.” She muses, remembering an article that said it. He flushes red. “I wouldn’t say that.” She shrugs, “Then other people will for you.”

Her phone buzzing makes her look away and she rolls her eyes at the text from Andrea. “I have to go back, Andrea is looking for me. Thank you for the coffee.” He nods, standing with her. “No problem.” He then opens his mouth again, quickly closing it. She raises an eyebrow and he flushes a bit more. “Could I get your number?” “Ah.” She glances down at her phone, another text on the screen. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” “Why not?” She can think of a million reasons. “It’s just not a good idea.” She settles on. “What if I want it as a friend?” She sends him a look and he grins. “I could do friends.” She shakes her head, “I need to go. Thank you again.” “Anytime.”

—

“You're at a race.” “Padre.” She greets, watching the screens as the sprint race goes into its fifth lap. “Andrea asked me to come.” “You don’t like races.” Her lips thin. “No, I don’t. But he wanted to see me, I made time.” “Have you made time for the interview I want scheduled?” “No.” He starts to say her name and she shakes her head. “No, padre. I’m here for Andrea, to see him. Just like I will be for Monaco, that is it. I have no interest in working for you.” “For the family.” “Or that.” He sighs.

Crossing her arms over her chest, she winces at the way Andrea gets overtaken, can already imagine the way he’ll beat himself up over it if he doesn’t regain the position, especially with the way Ollie is in P2, no battle in sight, as he more than comfortably keeps the place.

An arm wraps around her shoulders and she easily goes into her fathers side. “I miss my little girl.” She bites back on the words that want to crawl from her throat. “Love you too.”

—

“So,” she startles at the sound of a voice and the owner of it grins. “You don’t like coffee.” “Hello, Ollie.” “Hi.” He greets back. “You don’t like coffee.” He repeats. “I don’t like coffee.” She can’t help but smile at the way he grins at her responding to him. “What about,” he pauses looking around, before leaning closer and lowering his voice. “Red bull?” “I’m listening.”

She has to stop herself from giggling as Ollie leads her through Ferrari’s garage. She really shouldn’t be here. And not just because she shouldn’t even be at the race.

Stopping in front of a door, she watches as Ollie knocks, sending her a grin as he does.

“Hello?” The voice is a little confused. “Ollie! Come in, come in.” And Ollie grabs her hand, intertwining their fingers as he pulls her into the room with him. “Hi Charles.” Her eyes widen at the name and she quickly schools her expression though neither are looking at her. “What are you doing here?” Ollie grins at the older man. “I wanted to introduce you to someone and raid your fridge.” Charles rolls his eyes. “At least you don’t ask permission anymore.”

The tease makes her stiffen, this was a lot more than she felt she should be seeing or hearing.

“No, I learned.” Ollie laughs and then he’s tugging her closer. “Charles, this is Y/N.” A bit of tension leaves her when he doesn’t say her last name. “Y/N, this is Charles.” “Bonjour.” She greets, keeping her free hand firmly by her side as she wiggles her fingers in Ollie’s hand, but he just brushes his thumb over her knuckles. Charles’ eyes brighten at the greeting. “Bonjour. Est-ce un accent italien que j'entends?” (“Hello. Is that an Italian accent I hear?”) “Oui. Je suis italienne et je vis actuellement en France.” (“Yes. I am Italian currently living in France.) His grin widens. “Oh, très bien. Votre français est bon.” (“Oh, very nice. Your French is good.”) She ducks her head. “Merci.” (“Thank you.”)

“I didn’t know you spoke French.” Ollie says. She gives him a look. It should make his smile falter a little, but it only grows. “An Italian living in France. A bit uncommon, no?” Charles asks, handing her then Ollie a Red Bull. Before grabbing one for himself. “I study there.” “What are you studying?” Ollie asks, “Ki,” he stops himself. “Andrea never said.” Her eyes narrow at the catch, wondering why exactly he did it. “Accounting. And I’m not surprised. If it’s not something racing related, my brother has no interest.” Charles laughs. “I think Lorenzo and you would get along well. Having siblings that live and breath racing while you don’t.” “Maybe.” “Are you close to getting your degree?” “I am actually. My final exams start Monday.” “And you came to the Monaco Grand Prix?” Charles’ eyes are wide. “Yes.” “My goodness.” He looks at Ollie, winking at him. “This one is a keeper.” “Oh,” she says, feeling blood rush to her cheeks and Ollie is turning pink. “We aren’t.” He shrugs, taking a drink of his red bull. “Maybe not yet.” His eyes then fall to their still intertwined fingers and she gives another tug to Ollie’s hand, expecting him now to let go, but he doesn’t. “No, not yet.”

—

“What race are you coming to next?” Her hand tingles at the sound of Ollie’s voice. “I’m not.” “What?” She turns to face him. “Andrea wanted me at the first race of the season, but I couldn’t make it, so I said I’d come to these two.” She doesn’t mention that the want of her coming was because he apparently missed her. She had her doubts about that, especially after this weekend. “You don’t think he’ll ask you to come again?” She looks around, seeing no one nearby, she sighs. “Even if he did, I wouldn’t come. I love my brother, but not on race weekends, not during the season. I’ve seen you more than him.” Ollie’s face that had looked shocked, turns to understanding. “I’m sorry. I had no idea.” She shrugs. “He’s busy.” Ollie looks like he wants to argue, but he doesn’t.

Instead he leans a bit closer, “so, could I get your number now?” She laughs, shaking her head. “No. Still not happening.” “Oh, c’mon. I won today. This is the one thing I want as the Monaco F2 feature race winner.” She shakes her head. “Maybe, if you actually wanted it as a friend. I’d say yes.” “And why can’t we be more than friends?” He’s closer now somehow and she has to swallow around the lump in her throat. “Ollie,” Her name spills from his lips in a gentle sigh as he leans ever closer. “We can’t.” She whispers, hand against his chest, holding him place. “Why? Give me one good reason why.”

He’s guiding her backwards, down the short hallway and into a room that’s thankfully empty, the door shutting behind him.

“One good reason.” “You’re Andrea’s teammate.” “For nine more weekends.” She lets out a shaky breath, watching as his tongue darts out to wet his lips. “I’m busy with school and work.” “You have final exams this week, which you’ll pass. And I’m busy with work as well.” “You're younger than me. I’m twenty-two, you just turned nineteen.” He shrugs, her eyes following the strong line of shoulders with the movement. “I’m an adult. And I like you.” “Ollie.” She breathes. He’s closer than ever before, their lips nearly brushing. “I’m still waiting.” Her eyes scan his face, his words full of confidence, his body too, but he’s flushed and his nervousness is easy to read. And she delivers the reason that has to make him see reason. Because she doesn’t know if he stays this close to her if she can stop herself from kissing him. “Your parents,” his throat bobs. “Would never approve.” He looks at her and she looks back, holding her breath, waiting for him to back away but he doesn’t, and god when does Ollie ever do things she expects. “They don’t need to.” He whispers and then he’s kissing her.

—

“What are you talking about?” “Andrea,” “No.” He stops her, shaking her head. “What do you mean, you are seeing Oliver?” He spits the name out. “Don’t, Andrea.” “NO!” His face is red and she’s reminded of the times when he wanted candy that she had and threw a fit over not getting it instead. “He is, he is,” he shakes his head. “I don’t even know what he is. He is my teammate, he works in motorsports, you hate motorsports.” She keeps quiet, watching as her brother processes the news. “He is younger than you, barely older than me. And you.” He shakes his head again. “Does padre know?” She scoffs, now shaking her head. “Does padre know? That’s all you care about isn’t it. If our father approves or not, if he knows what he thinks, because heaven forbid Kimi,” he flinches at the name. “You think for yourself.” “That is not.” “Don’t.” She cuts him off. “Yes, he knows. Don’t worry he disapproves as well. So, you don’t have to think for yourself again.”

She stares at her younger brother, knowing that this is her fault, but she can’t, she still doesn’t have it in her to deal with it, not today. “I will talk to you sometime, Andrea.”

—

“Your fans are lovely.” Ollie makes a humming sound, half asleep. She pauses her scrolling on twitter, unable to stop herself from liking the picture of Charles’ dog in his own personal little car. “Your fans. Very creative as well. They can’t call me a gold digger, but a fame seeker? Well, if the shoe fits.” “They what?” He sounds so much more awake, it makes her laugh. “It’s just hate, Ollie. I’m an old woman praying on the young. Apparently I’m like Piquet.” “Ew.” And she can picture his nose wrinkling. “You know you aren’t though right?” “An old woman?” She jokes. “A predator.” She softens, turning in his arms, so that they are chest to chest. “I know.” “I mean, really if anything I was.” “You were very insistent.” He flushes. “Only a little.” She nods, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “Only a little.”

“I know we talked about it before, but are you okay with everything?” “Yes. I mean, it hurts that Andrea is still not okay with it but my father’s opinion has not mattered to me in a long time. And no matter what the media and fans were never going to give us peace, so I made my peace with that as well. Besides, your parents are okay with it.” “They love you.” “Our friends are understanding.” “They are.” “And you aren’t about to dedicate any more podiums to me.” He grins at her and dread starts to form in her stomach. “Ollie…” “About that last one.” “Ollie!”

@crashingwavesofeuphoria @poppyflower-22 @racingheartsposts @gemofthenight @peachiicherries @lpab @hiireadstuff @iloveyou3000morgan @boiohboii @bibliosaurous @skepvids @elliegrey2803

#ollie bearman x reader #ollie bearman imagine #f2 imagine #f2 x reader #formula 2 x reader #formula 2 imagine

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corroded-hellfire · 9 months

Note

practically begging for a drabble in the universe as as you wish where they finally get the place to themselves and don’t have to be quiet

You say drabble, @munson-blurbs and I write over 5k words. Please enjoy this little glimpse at what happened right after part one 🥰

Warnings: smut, p in v, unprotected (wrap it up), oral, m and f receiving, older!eddie, babysitter!reader, breeding kink

Words: 5.1k

[As You Wish masterlist]

Eating outside in February in Indiana wouldn’t be your first choice, but when your last class gets out after everyone else has had time to claim indoor spots to chow down, you’re forced to eat your lunch at the picnic table that’s getting most direct sunlight. At least you’d been able to grab a nice hot bowl of soup to keep you warm. The sun comes out from behind a cloud, and you think that maybe your luck is changing when you look up and see Peter strolling over to you.

“Not again,” you groan under your breath.

“Hey,” Peter says as he takes the seat opposite you. His smile looks genuine enough, but you know it’s hiding the smarmy intentions beneath.

“Hi,” you reply before shoving another spoonful of soup in your mouth.

“Aren’t you cold sitting out here?” Peter takes his hands out of his pockets and blows his hot breath on them.

No, I’m perfectly comfortable, you moron, you think to yourself. Peter is a nice enough guy, but ever since he started hounding you about why you wouldn’t go on a second date with him, he’d been insufferable. Why couldn’t he just let it go?

“A little,” you admit. “Couldn’t find a space inside.”

“My car is parked just over there,” Peter says, nodding his head in the direction of the parking lot to your left. “You can eat in there; I don’t mind.”

“No, thanks. I’m fine here.”

Peter sighs and tilts his head to the side as if he’s a confused puppy. “Why are you afraid to be alone with me?”

You almost choke on your latest sip of soup. “Afraid? I’m not afraid, Peter. I’m alone with you right now, aren’t I?”

Peter shrugs and it takes everything in you not to roll your eyes.

“So, why no second date then?”

The moment the words leave his lips, you drop your spoon into your bowl with a clang and bring your hands up to rub over your face.

“Peter,” you say with a deep sigh, “we’ve been over this.”

“I just want a straight answer from you,” Peter says, as if this isn’t something you’ve already given him many times over.

“How about a list?” you snap, unable to hold back your frustration any longer. “You talk with your mouth full. You called nursing a ‘girl major.’ You stared at the waitress’s chest the entire time she was at our table. And when the people next to us started speaking Spanish, you mumbled something about learning to ‘speak American.’ Which, Uncle Sam, isn’t even a God damn language. So,” your voice is rising and attracting the attention of other students, but you couldn't care less, “if you would kindly fuck off, maybe you can leave with your testicles intact.”

With that, you gather your food and rush off to the nearest payphone. Your fingers, still slightly numb from the cold, dial the number as though on autopilot. To your utter relief, he picks up.

“Scott’s Auto Body, this is Eddie speaking.”

It’s been two days since you two hooked up, devouring each other carnally in his bed while his wife wasn’t home, and you were left unsure about how to proceed. Yes, Eddie had confessed that he had feelings for you–feelings much deeper than the lust that had consumed you that evening. But, as with anything, there were consequences to these actions. And what if the consequence was that he no longer wanted you around? That you only served as a painful reminder of the way he broke his marriage vows?

“Yo? Anyone there?”

You clear your throat, forcing yourself to speak into the receiver. “H-Hi. It’s me.” You bite your lower lip and cringe. Me? How the hell is he supposed to know who ‘me’ is?

“Hey,” Eddie says, and you could swear there’s relief flooding his tone. “How are you?”

The concern in his voice mixed with the fact that he knew it was you simply by a stuttering greeting has you flustered and gripping the phone even tighter.

“I’m okay,” you manage. There’s a beat of silence before Eddie replies.

“Are you?”

“Do you remember that time you told me if I, uh, wanted to bail on something, or…”

“Is someone bothering you?” His tone is firm but kind and it reminds you all over again of why you fell for him.

“More annoying than anything,” you admit.

“Is it that prick you went on a date with months ago?”

Did you mention that recently? Or did Eddie remember that from when you told him a few weeks back?

“Unfortunately,” you say.

Eddie sighs. “Jesus, take the hint, pal.”

“Oh, he’s had more than hints,” you tell him. “He’s been given very direct answers multiple times.”

The only sound that comes from the other end is the faint banging and scraping from the garage. You lick over your cold, chapped lips as you wait for him to say something.

“Where are you?” he finally asks.

“Having lunch on campus. It was peaceful at first.”

This time there’s no silence as Eddie quickly shoots back with, “Do you want me to come get you?”

“Only if you’re on your lunch break. I’ll even buy you something to eat,” you offer. “What are you in the mood for?”

“You.”

The answer and how he gave it so immediately has your face burning despite the bitter breeze blowing outside. You shuffle your boots on the ground and take a self-conscious glance around, as if someone could hear what he just said to you.

“Eddie,” you lightly admonish.

“Love when you say my name.” The way he clears his throat after the admission has you wondering if he meant to say it aloud at all. It gives you butterflies either way. “Be there in twenty, pretty thing.”

Before Eddie gets there, you grab two sandwiches for you to split. To save yourself any possible embarrassment, you pretend that Eddie’s infectious grin is more for the food than it is for you.

It’s more difficult to do this when roaming eyes accompany his smile; the chocolate hues soaking in every last millimeter of your body. “Hi,” he murmurs, reaching over to help you with your seatbelt. You don’t need any assistance, and he knows this, too, but it grants him the opportunity to brush his fingers against yours.

“Where to?” he asks, unwrapping his sandwich from the thin plastic covering and taking a bite. The nickname ‘baby,’ is on the tip of his tongue, but he has to hold back. At least until the two of you figure out what the fuck is going on.

“Home, please,” you say softly, tearing off a piece of your own PB&J. You silently curse yourself for getting such a childish sandwich, but considering the way Eddie’s practically inhaling his, he doesn’t appear to be bothered.

He’s only driven a few blocks when he breaks the awkward silence, leaping right onto the back of the elephant in the room. Or car, rather.

“So, um, about what happened on Saturday,” Eddie starts, but you quickly cut him off.

“I know…you’re married.” You lower your head, too heavy with shame. He’s going to say that I shouldn’t babysit the boys anymore. He’s going to call it all a huge mistake. “It never should have happened.”

You feel your head move slightly as Eddie takes his forefinger and turns your chin to face him. “But it did. And I’m not mad about it.” His voice is firm, confident…it’s something you’ve never witnessed before when he’s talking to his horrible wife.

“…you’re not?”

Eddie shakes his head with a small smile, unable to hide his amusement at your obvious surprise. “Not even close. I’m only mad that we can’t, y’know, actually be together.” His hands grip the steering wheel tighter as he says it; it can’t be a coincidence.

But we can, you think, pressing your lips together in an effort to silence yourself, just leave her and be with me.

Instead, you nod and mumble, “I know.” You take another small bite of the sandwich, hoping the sticky peanut butter will glue your tongue to the roof of your mouth and keep you from saying something stupid and clingy.

Eddie looks at you with wide eyes. “Do you…do you regret it?”

It’s a loaded question. Do you regret letting Eddie Munson fuck you in his marriage bed—the one he shared with his wife—splitting you open while moaning about how good you felt? Not at all. Do you regret that it stirred up feelings that can’t be reciprocated because of his marital status? Absolutely.

“No, I just wish…” you trail off, forgoing your original thought, lest it sound like an ultimatum. Instead, you pose a question of your own. “Saturday night, when you told me you cared about me…how did you mean that?”

He sighs, coming to a complete stop at the stop sign. Throwing the car in park, he turns to you with a look of longing and desire.

“Like this.” Eddie leans in and kisses you, tucking his upper lip under yours. His hand caresses your cheek, and he finishes it off with a soft bite to the plush of your lower lip.

The honk of an irritated driver snaps you both from your passionate stupor, and Eddie uses his right hand to shift gears and his left to give a one-finger wave. You assume that that’s the end of the conversation until he speaks again.

“I’ve cared about you since I saw how great you were with my kids,” he admits. “Tried to convince myself that it was just because, y’know, if something happened to you, it would affect them, but…”

“But?”

“But it was so much fuckin’ more than that.” He doesn’t have enough time to list all the ways he cares about you, the ways he dreams of loving and protecting you. “And now that I really know you, shit, I can’t imagine a world without you in it.”

Eddie stops the car again, ignoring the angered shouting of the person in the vehicle behind you as he turns on the flashers. Before you can open your mouth to ask what he’s doing, his lips are on yours again. His large hands cup your face, the callouses giving you goosebumps as they glide over the soft skin of your cheeks. The butterflies in your stomach seem to float up into your head as you feel lightheaded when the two of you separate.

Not wanting to truly bring that wall down and let him see just how much this is affecting you, you attempt to play it cool—hide how flustered his tender kiss has you.

“And, uh,” you say, clearing your throat before you continue, “what you said about wanting to hear the noises I make…?”

Immediately, Eddie’s eyes darken, and it ignites a fire in your otherwise cold body. He leans in towards you and his voice is low and silky as he says, “I wanted to hear every. Single. Sound.”

It’s getting more difficult by the second to restrain yourself when he makes you want to climb into his lap right then and there.

“And do you? Do you, um, still want it?”

A groan comes from deep in his throat as his eyes never leave yours. “So fucking bad, baby.”

The intense hunger his eyes hold almost has you snapping and throwing yourself at him, but you manage to hold onto that last single thread of restraint you have. Instead, you figure this would be better in a place that isn’t being invaded by the frigid air or when anyone could look in at you two since you’re still in the middle of the road.

“Is anyone at your house?”

Instead of giving you an answer, Eddie puts the truck into drive and presses down on the gas pedal so hard that you think it will fall through the floor of the car. The sudden speed has you pressed to the back of your seat, and you laugh at how impatient he is to get you back to his place.

“Fuck, I love that laugh,” Eddie mumbles more to himself than you.

When you get to the house, it’s so hard not to tear into one another on your way to the front door—even with the biting chill in the air. But there are neighbors and the last thing that needs to happen is someone assuming anything is going on between Eddie and the babysitter and make Brittany out to be some kind of martyr.

As soon as the door is closed behind you though, Eddie has his chest pressed up against your back, his warmth seeping into you.

“Fuck, baby, I don’t know where to touch you first,” he growls in your ear.

“How about…here.” You reach down for his hands and bring them under your shirt. Sliding them up your tummy, you settle his palms right on your breasts. There’s a big goofy grin on Eddie’s face as he gently squeezes at the bra-covered flesh.

“Love these, sweet girl.”

Closing your eyes, you let your head drop back against Eddie’s shoulder as he fondles you.

“You have any idea how many times I thought about your hands on me like this? And other ways?” you ask, your breath bitching when his thumb brushes over your nipple.

“And what about your hands on me?” Eddie asks before pressing hot kisses against the side of your neck.

“Mmm, thought about that too,” you admit. “But I mostly thought about my mouth on you.” You unzip his coveralls and drop to your knees, pushing his boxers down so you can take him in. Precum pearls at the tip of his cock, threatening to drip down the shaft along the thick vein that runs through it.

You wrap your hand around the base, giving kitten licks to his leaking slit.

“Don’t tease me, please,” Eddie whines, cupping his own balls briefly just for the extra sensation.

You move them out of the way, settling in a bit more. “You mean like this?” you ask salaciously, pressing little kisses along the underside of his erection before sliding your tongue along it.

The man whimpers like a damn puppy, clenching his fists and flexing his thighs in a feeble attempt to hang onto his sanity.

“O-Okay, yeah, please, fuuuuuck,” he groans as you take all of him into your mouth. His legs twitch, and his knees nearly buckle and have him crumpling to the ground. “Yeah, right there…shit, thas’ perfect.”

Eddie’s pretty moans encourage you each time you bob your head and envelop him in the warmth of your mouth again. One of his hands rests gently on the top of your head; not grabbing or forcing, simply resting there as if he needs to be touching you in every possible way that he can.

“Christ,” Eddie says with labored breath as he looks down at you with heavy-lidded eyes. “I’ve imagined those pretty lips wrapped around m-my cock so many times. But fuck…nothing beats the actual sight of it. Love watching as I disappear inside your sweet little mouth.”

His words have you moaning around his cock, sending delicious vibrations throughout his body. It’s enough to have him teetering on the edge. The hand that isn’t resting in your hair comes up and rubs over his face as he drops his head back and stares at the ceiling with unfocused eyes. Whimpers spill from Eddie’s lips like a prayer, and you start to move your head faster, trying to let your jaw hang looser.

“Shit, baby,” Eddie manages through panting breaths, “I-I’m not gonna last.”

Keeping up your motions, not pausing for a moment, you moan around him to let him know what you want. You’ve dreamt — both daydreams and sleeping dreams — about him finishing inside your mouth and you need it to come true.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks. Another moan around his throbbing dick is how you deign to respond. “So close, princess. Being such a good girl for me—shit. My sweet girl has such a sinful tongue.”

His words have you practically dripping, and you need nothing more than for Eddie to peel your soaked panties off of you. One of your hands slides up and cups his balls, which has him practically keeling over.

“Fuck! Babe, I’m gonna—I’m gonna, shit, I’m cumming.”

Eddie’s warm release fills your mouth, and the tangy taste is like heaven on your tongue. You make sure to milk him for everything that he’s got before you pull off and swallow it all. A little bit dribbles down the side of your mouth, but you catch it with your thumb and pop it into your mouth, making sure to get every last drop.

“Holy shit,” Eddie says, trying to catch his breath. “C’mere.” He tosses his coveralls and boxers aside and helps you off your knees and into the bedroom. “Show me that perfect fuckin’ body of yours.”

Anyone else ever saying that to you in your life would make you self-conscious and be tempted to hide yourself. But Eddie makes you feel safe and desired in a way you never thought possible. He wants to see you like this. It’s a dizzying thought.

You comply, heat blooming up your body towards your face as his gaze is trained on you while he makes himself comfortable up against the headboard. Every little movement, his eyes track it. It’s like you stripping down bare is a class he has to take and he’s the most studious student there ever was. By the time you’re slipping off the last offending item—your drenched panties—you’ve already forgotten that the heap of your clothes is there at the foot of the bed.

Crawling up the mattress to him, you’re about to straddle his waist when he shakes his head. He scoots down a bit so his head is resting flat against his pillow.

“Want you to ride my face, sweet girl.”

The request catches you by surprise and you can’t help the pinch that forms on your brow.

“Are you sure?”

Instead of a sexy or witty remark, Eddie looks you dead in the eye so you know how serious he’s being. “If you don’t sit on my face right now, I will die.”

Leave it to Eddie to bring the theatrics into the bed with you. Still, you give him a skeptical look as you raise an eyebrow.

“You might die if I do,” you say.

“Bullshit,” Eddie says as he reaches for you. Despite your reluctance, you let him pull you up higher towards his mouth. Eddie knows you though and can tell there’s something else you want to say. He looks at you imploringly, doe eyes blinking up at you.

“No one’s ever even eaten me out before you did,” you admit. It surprises Eddie, but he puts a pin in that for later—right now he really needs you to sit on his face.

“Well, let me show you what you’ve been missing out on, babe.” He gently tugs you up so that your pussy is hovering over his mouth. “Now, I’m gonna eat you out, and I need to hear your beautiful noises, yeah?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Fuck,” he moans as he wraps his hands around your thighs and lowers you onto his lips. His tongue glides through your folds and fucks in and out of your hole. You seize the opportunity to grind your exposed clit against his nose.

“Eddie, feels s’good,” you whimper.

Eddie moves away for a second, and you frown at the loss of sensation. “I know you can be louder than that,” he grins before resuming his previous position.

Nerves flood your body. You’re not used to being loud during sex; no guy before Eddie had even given you that urge. You will yourself to relax and let him take care of you, your hands gripping the headboard as you ride his face.

“Yes, Eddie! Holy fucking shit,” you cry out, feeling his hold on your thighs tighten. “You’re gonna make me cum all over your face.”

Eddie just gives a muffled hum of approval, moving his tongue but keeping his head still so you can keep rhythmically pressing your clit against his nose. His tongue is magic, fucking in and out of you like he can’t get enough.

Your release hits you hard, and you lean back to brace your hands on his thighs as you ride out your high, practically screaming your moans loud enough for Peter to hear back on campus. Ironic that his persistence for a second date drove you into the arms—and bed—of another man.

You keep whimpering “Eddie” over and over again as you come down, a pathetic little mewl that has him melting. He gently lays you on the bed and hovers over your gorgeous body, pressing kisses to your lips, smearing them with your own slick.

“Love how you say my name, sweetheart,” he murmurs, a slight growl in his voice. “Also love how you taste.”

The word “love” plays on a loop in your head. You want to hear him say it about you. You want him to make love to you, not just fuck you. Could that fantasy ever come to fruition?

The touch of Eddie’s hand on yours interrupts your longing thoughts. He brings your palm to his cock, and you instinctively wrap your fingers around the hardened length.

“Got me hard again, baby,” Eddie hisses, “like a damn teenager or somethin’.”

You can’t hold back any longer, and the words spill out of you. “Inside me, Eddie,” you plead. “Please.”

“You don’t have to beg, but I’d be lying if I said I hated it.” He smirks, watching as your hand glides up and down his erection. He hasn’t been this turned on since…well, since he came home to you wearing his clothes two nights ago.

“Please, need you inside me, wanna feel how nice you fill me up.” You open your legs wider, and Eddie situates himself between them. Your pussy clenches around nothing, desperate for some friction.

He’s got one hand on your right breast, the other holds his cock. “Ready for me?”

“Yes, yes, God yes.”

You feel him push into you, and you instinctively arch your back. His calloused hands slide around your waist as he gives slow, gentle thrusts until bottoming out.

“How’s that? Y’good?”

“So, so good.”

His thrusts get deeper and more intentional, and he grins when he hears the small moans escaping your lips.

“E-Eddie?” Your voice is a strong whisper; it’s all you can manage with the way he’s pounding into you.

“Yes, princess?” A shiver snakes its way down your spine at the nickname. Princess. You’re Eddie’s princess.

You stumble over your words, flustered by the new pet name and anxious about how your next request will be received. “Can you, um, say what you said the other night?”

Eddie’s brow furrows in confusion as his hips keep a steady pace, unruly thatch of pubic hair deliciously grazing your clit. “I said a lot the other night, baby,” he chuckles. “You’ll have to be, uh, a little more specific.”

You try and push away the embarrassment, reminding yourself that you’re safe with Eddie. “When you said y-you were going to fill me so good and knock m-me up,” you try again, squeezing your eyes shut in anticipation of a bad reaction.

Eddie groans and gives an involuntary hard thrust of his hips. “Holy shit, you’re telling me you like that?” He throws his head back when you nod. “Fuck, baby girl, you have no idea how hot that is to me.”

“So hot,” you agree with another feeble nod of your head.

Eddie grips your waist and flips the two of you so he’s leaning back against the headboard and you’re in his lap. “Shit, Princess. You want my babies, huh? Want me to fill you with my cum, huh? Won’t let any drip out of you, gotta keep it all in there.”

Your eyes practically roll back in your head. All you want is his babies, to walk around with a swell to your belly because Eddie Munson fucked you until he got you pregnant.

“That’s it,” he continues through gritted teeth, “I know you can take it. Such a good girl, wanting all of my cum.”

“Y-Yes, Mr. Munson,” you whimper pathetically, “I’m your good girl.”

Mr. Munson has his brain short-circuiting, and his hips snap upwards at a rapid pace. He wants this to last forever, but the way you look and feel has him on the edge of release once more.

“Fuck, ‘m gonna cum. Call me ‘Mr. Munson’ again, baby,” Eddie pleads, pupils blown wide as he begs to hear your beautiful voice.

“Mmm, want your babies, Mr. Munson!” You watch as he throws his head back at the sound of your moans, keeping his frantic pace. “Ri-Right there! Yes, yes, yes!”

The two of you come down from your highs together, you slumped against his chest and his hands resting on your bare back.

“M’pretty sure that’s the best sex I’ve ever had,” Eddie finally manages through heaving breaths.

You peek up at him with incredulous eyes. “Really?”

“Hell fuckin’ yes.” He leans down and presses soft kisses along the expanse of your neck. “Everything about you turns me on so ridiculously much. It’s insane. The more I learn about you, the hotter you get.”

You grin to yourself and nuzzle your head against his chest. “Was the best for me, too,” you admit.

“Yeah?” Eddie cocks an eyebrow in disbelief. There’s no way he can compete with the younger guys throwing themselves at you…is there?

“Are you kidding?” You look up at him with a shy smile. “All you have to do is look at me and I get wet.”

“Good to know,” Eddie says with a playful smirk. He turns away for a moment before whipping his head back around, peering at you dramatically. “How ‘bout now?”

You press your lips to his in what’s supposed to be a romantic kiss, but your smiles get in the way.

“Hey, uh, did you…” he starts, clears his throat, and then tries again. “Was I really the first guy to eat you out?”

You nod, downcasting your eyes in embarrassment. “No one ever offered, but I never asked or anything, so…”

Eddie takes your chin in his hand and pulls your gaze back to him. “You never have to ask me,” he murmurs, nudging his nose against yours. “I love being able to make you feel good. If I ever turn down eating your pussy, call an ambulance, because I clearly need medical attention.”

Giggling, you go to rest your head on his shoulder when you catch sight of the clock on his bedside table. “Oh, I have to go get the boys,” you say, trying not to sound too disappointed.

“Pretty sure we left a trail of clothes around the house. You go get the troublemakers; I’ll clean up.”

You nod and lean up to press a tender kiss to his lips. He cups your face in his hands and just stares. “Don’t want to let you go,” he murmurs, just short of a whine.

“I won’t be long,” you whisper against his lips.

“Hurry back,” he calls out dramatically, but he’s only half-joking. All he wants is you in his bed, tangled in the sheets, touching each other like you’ll never get enough.

You reach for your purse and dig out your keys. “Wait, I don’t have my car. You picked me up from campus.”

“Take my truck, baby,” Eddie offers, taking his own set of keys from the coveralls laying on the ground and tossing them to you. “We can take the kids to the park or something then the Munson men will bring you back to your car.”

“Such gentlemen.” You giggle when Eddie bows, still fully naked.

It feels like a scavenger hunt to find all the articles of clothing you’d shed, but you’re finally able to get dressed and dart out of the house to pick up Ryan and Luke from school.

When you return back, small Munsons in tow, the scent of just-fried bacon wafts past your nostrils.

“That is the best smell in the world,” Luke declares. He walks towards the kitchen as if he’s in a trance.

You follow behind him and Ryan and see Eddie washing a frying pan out in the sink.

“Daddy!” Luke clings to Eddie’s hips, surprised to see his dad home early. He squeezes him tight, and Eddie has to swallow his emotions before turning around to greet him.

“Hey, buddy.” He drops the pan and sponge in the sink and scoops Luke up and presses a kiss to his head, then ruffles Ryan’s hair.

“Bacon smells good,” Ryan says, peering at the counter where the strips lay on oil-soaked Bounty sheets.

“Thought it could be a snack for the ride to the park. How’s that sound?” Eddie asks, already knowing the answer.

Both boys cheer, with Luke breaking out into some sort of kung-fu inspired happy dance. His little feet shuffle back and forth along the kitchen tile while his little hands punch the air.

Eddie just laughs and tells his sons, “Go change out of your school clothes and grab your heavy coats.”

Once they’re out of the kitchen, you raise an eyebrow at Eddie and speak softly to him. “Hungry after such a vigorous workout?”

“A little.” He chuckles and gives a shrug. “But really, I was paranoid that it would smell like sex in here.”

You giggle and cover your mouth, worried that you’re too loud. The last thing you need is for the boys to ask what’s so funny.

“You’re so fucking cute,” he whispers, kissing just under your earlobe.

Ryan and Luke come back into the kitchen before you can respond, so you just stand there flustered. It goes unnoticed, since the boys ramble on as the food gets packed up, sneakers are tied, and doors are locked.

“This is the best day ever!” Luke announces, opening the car door and climbing into his booster seat.

“I agree.” Eddie throws a wink in your direction, and your stomach does a flip as you buckle your seatbelt.

Maybe there is more than just lust between you and Mr. Munson.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #older!eddie #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fan fiction #request #AYW #AYWS

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thankskenpenders · 10 months

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Sonic Prime: "Season 2"

Eight more episodes of Sonic Prime are out! They're labeled as "season 2" despite just being the next eight episodes of the first (and presumably only) season, allowing Netflix to market it as multiple seasons without having to give the cast and crew raises. They love doing that shit to their original cartoons. Ugh.

Anyway! Last time, I gave the show some leeway because it was still finding its legs. This time, though? We're now two thirds of the way through the series, and sadly, I think it's time to accept the truth:

While there are parts I like, a lot of this show... kinda sucks?

This multiverse sucks and Rouge was robbed

Previously, I noted the pattern of each universe spotlighting a different friend of Sonic's (Tails in New Yolk City, Amy in the jungle world, Knuckles in the pirate world) and predicted that, hopefully, Rouge would get her time to shine next. And with 16 episodes left, surely there's time to explore new worlds that are more interesting than the jungle and pirate worlds. Those were just the warm up act. Right?

...Right?

Nope! That's it! There are no more worlds.

This multiverse show where anything is possible really is just about another Eggman-controlled dystopia world, a jungle world, and a pirate world. That's all they came up with! Just those three, and two dead worlds that don't really count - one a featureless wasteland, the other a ghostly echo of the original Green Hill dubbed "Ghost Hill." (Sonic's friends appear here as holograms stuck repeating a single line each. It gets old immediately.)

The jungle and pirate worlds and their inhabitants being so overwhelmingly generic becomes unforgivable the moment you realize this is all we're gonna get. It just leaves me wishing they'd thrown this whole concept out and finally made a normal Sonic cartoon with no twist in its premise. A few of the new takes here are good, particularly Nine as a darker riff on Tails, but so many of them don't feel anything like the fun characters they're supposed to be. They're stock cartoon characters wearing the Sonic casts' skins.

I'll admit my bias is showing, but god, Rouge is REALLY done dirty by this setup. The normal Rouge we see in the first episode is so fun for how briefly she appears, but then in all the other worlds she's reduced to a generic action girl with zero personality. What's her purpose, exactly, when every AU version of Amy is ALSO a straightforward action girl? It drives me absolutely insane that they gave us a PIRATE ROUGE and she doesn't care about treasure. They do nothing with this! How!!!!!!!! She's just never gonna get her turn. It's so obvious that Rouge is only in this show so that they can have another girl, but you could swap her out with another character like Blaze and it'd make no difference.

Speaking of the pirates, though...

The way things play out in the pirate world is so stupid

Previously, with the Paradox Prism shard within reach, Captain Dread Knux was regressing into his old obsessive personality. I'm fine with this. Sonic and Dread both want the shard, they're gonna fight over it. Obvious stuff. But the actual impact it has on the story is maybe the stupidest bit of writing in this entire show so far.

Basically, while fighting a couple of the Eggmen and their robots at sea, Sonic has to briefly run over to the enemy ship to fight them and grab the Paradox Prism shard while Dread and his crew remain back on their ship. Dread goes "Oh my god, look! Sonic's abandoning us! Traitor!" While Sonic is... like 200 feet away. Still in clear view. Fighting the guys who are trying to kill them. Retrieving Dread's beloved treasure for him.

And yet, Dread's crew buys this! And when Sonic runs right back over with the shard in hand, they're all like "HOW DARE YOU BETRAY US" and turn on him.

It's just. What?!

This isn't a huge part of the "season," but I highlight it as maybe the worst moment of the show's character writing. I'm reminded of Thorn Rose's backstory from last time, where she was depicted as suddenly snapping one day when she saw her friends pick one too many berries in the jungle. Sometimes a character just needs to pivot for the story to work, and they aren't really interested in getting there smoothly.

The Chaos Council fucking sucks

I tried so hard to like these guys, but they drag the show down so much.

The choice to have a team of five different Eggmen really just means that Eggman has been split into five one-note characters. Four of them revolve entirely around the most trite, predictable, boomer-ass jokes based on their ages. The teenage one is whiny and just wants to play video games. The young adult one is a vegan hipster who does yoga. The old one is cranky about all the whippersnappers and has a bad back. The baby is a baby. These are jokes that would've been tired if this show aired 20 years ago.

The odd man out is Mister Doctor Eggman, the middle-aged one with a toupee who's the stand-in for regular Eggman. But even he kinda sucks. The other four all being one-note joke characters means that he has to be the straight man of the group, so he's just very dry and serious and plot-focused without any of Eggman's fun eccentricities. He's neither particularly funny nor particularly sinister, which is just about the worst place for an Eggman to be.

He doesn't even have any incompetent robot lackeys to bounce off of, because the unfunny alternate age Eggmen fill the quota for bumbling secondary villains. But also, like... Orbot and Cubot are in this show! They were in the first episode! Where are they? God, I never thought I'd miss them so much...

But, okay. It's not ALL bad.

The highlights

There's a recurring theme here, which is that the best episodes are the ones where Sonic is pitted against a foe who can match his speed and they just let the animation carry it.

The first of the new episodes is mostly about Sonic fighting Shadow, and BOY is their fight fun to watch. Said fight happens because Shadow blames Sonic for shattering the universe and doesn't trust him to fix things. Shadow wants to restore their world, but he refuses to see the various AU counterparts as the same people Sonic once knew, and he doesn't really care what happens to them. Ultimately, though, he begrudgingly accepts that Sonic really is the only one who can hop between dimensions for Plot Reasons, and therefore lets him go try to do things the nice way. He sadly spends most of his time waiting around in the void between worlds, but in the last episode of the batch he and Sonic get to team up against the Chaos Council's forces and it's very cool.

As far as recent interpretations of Shadow go, this is a good one. He's a great foil for Sonic, which just makes me wish he could travel with Sonic to the different worlds. He's cynical and overly pragmatic in his approach, but his points aren't entirely wrong. His anger feels justified. They even let him have some snark! And Ian Hanlin is really great in the role - definitely a contender for Shadow's best voice ever. He just sounds so natural.

The other speedster Sonic fights is Chaos Sonic, the Chaos Council's take on Metal.

He can talk! Deven is basically doing a Jaleel impersonation for him? People are very mixed on this.

The idea behind Chaos Sonic is to turn Sonic's obnoxious smack talk and zingers back around on him, and I don't hate this idea, even if a lot of fans find him annoying compared to Metal Sonic. (Some comparisons have been made to Archie's Shard, but I assume this is a coincidence.) Like the rest of the script, his dialogue certainly isn't anything to write home about, but the fights he gets into with Sonic and co. are so damn fun and dynamic that I have to like him. I also like how expressive his eyes are on his dome screen face, and the animators have a ton of fun with the fact that his torso and head can rotate 360 degrees.

Unfortunately, he's destroyed at the end of his debut episode. I'm praying he gets rebuilt, because this show desperately needs better villains than the Chaos Council.

Again, the animation in Prime is maybe the best animation in any official Sonic media, period. I just wished I liked the characters and worlds enough to be invested in more of the fights. It's hard to care about the dozenth group battle against the generic Eggforcer bots and the baby in his Fisher-Price mech.

The note we end on

After fighting a giant glowing replica of the normal Eggman for... some reason? Episode 16 ends with Sonic and Nine getting into an argument over what to do with the Paradox Prism shards. Sonic wants to restore his original world, but Nine still wants to create a new, better world out of the one that's just an empty wasteland, believing he doesn't belong anywhere else. Nine angrily runs off with the shards, and Sonic is distraught as he realizes that Shadow was seemingly right about how he shouldn't trust Nine.

I kind of like this conflict, mostly because Nine is the standout character of this show. But my main problem is that we don't know what will happen when everything is fixed.

The logical assumption is that the alternate worlds will just... stop existing, right? That must be the idea if Sonic and Nine are treating restoring the original world and creating a new one in the Shatterverse as mutually exclusive options, right? If the Shatterverse disappears, will Nine and the rest all stop existing, too? The show seems unwilling to discuss this possibility, so I'm left not really knowing what the stakes are in this conflict. Nine becomes a whole lot more sympathetic and Sonic becomes a whole lot more monstrous if restoring the world will erase most of this show's cast from existence, but the thought that this could even happen doesn't seem to have crossed Sonic's mind. Sonic seems to want to take his AU friends back to the regular Green Hill - he at least wants to introduce Nine to his normal friends - but like... he can't really do that, can he? They're not gonna have four Tailses running around.

I don't really know what direction this is all headed in. I guess we just have to keep watching, even if I'm past the point of accepting that this show is mostly very mid.

It's just frustrating that everyone else working on this show is clearly giving it their all while the writers at Man of Action phone it in for so much of its runtime. The scripts drag this show down so, so hard. There are moments and episodes I like, but you have to slog through so much mediocrity to get there.

#tkp post #other media

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makeste · 4 months

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BnHA Chapter 410: Kacchan Fights a Baby

Previously on BnHA: Kacchan was born and then he grew up and murdered the Demon Lord.

Today on BnHA: Kacchan fights a baby. Tomura and Deku finally remember that they were supposed to have been fighting too this entire time, and get on with that once again. Tomura is all, “[literally just reaches out and grabs Deku’s face because Deku’s main character powers suddenly abandoned him in a fit of confusion].” Deku is all, “[chops off Tomura’s fingers which is somehow not even in the top twenty of violent things that have happened in this series in just the last five chapters].” Tomura is all “joke’s on you I still got your quirk :D” and fuck me he actually stole Danger Sense, what the fuck.

logically I knew AFO still had to be alive somehow because he’s too big of a villain to go out that easily without a proper sendoff. but deep in my heart, I’m still secretly disappointed

it just isn’t fair, lol. this guy has died more times than Rasputin and he’s still out here scheming his schemey schemes. when oh when will it end

sir you did not just say you had yet ANOTHER unused trump card up your sleeve??

(ETA: the translation isn’t fully clear here, but I think the trump card he’s referring to is the whole “I’ll just go back inside him and join the part of me that was already in there and we’ll take over Tomura’s body again together” plan that he was trying to pull off. I think. if not though, that’s certainly something worth speculating about.)

well as always the psychology in this series is unironically fascinating! he just wants acknowledgement at the end of the day, huh. just wants some love and attention. too bad he was born in a rat-infested hellscape and learned all the wrong lessons and turned into a crazed omnipotent murderlad

also he really did turn back into a baby sdfsdlkjfl oh no. I need to see Katsuki’s reaction to this immediately

oh my lord

(●__●)

lmao this is so incredibly fucked up

ngl though, this is karma at its finest. he tortured and killed so many people trying to earn everyone’s fear and awe and reverence, only to literally blip out of existence at the end with absolutely nothing to show for it

everyone please enjoy this series of panels of a deeply vexed Bakugou Katsuki picking a fight with this slowly melting evil baby

“you think I care that you’re a baby now. you think I won’t fight a fuckin’ baby. let’s do this you little punk”

also I’m sorry but it’s absolutely ridiculous that the gigantic chest wound Tomura inflicted on him got sewed up so neatly lol. AFO’s not the only one who stubbornly refuses to die no matter what

...

just once, it would be nice if Horikoshi didn’t immediately shred my plot nitpicks to pieces mere seconds after I write them

LMAO

BABY AFO DON’T CARE. BABY AFO WILL THROW HANDS WITH ANYONE ＼(｀0´)／

KACCHAN MY BELOVED FAVE OF ALL TIME, ARE YOU REALLY ABOUT TO LOSE TO A LITERAL FUCKING INFANT

WHAT HAPPENED TO “PERFECT VICTORY” LMAO. MOVING THE GOALPOSTS EVEN AS HIS CONSCIOUSNESS FADES. “EH, CLOSE ENOUGH”

-- OH FOR THE LOVE OF --

me: wow it sure is uncharacteristic of Katsuki to just pass out before he properly wraps up this battle

Horikoshi: oh yeah good point, sure would be a shame if someone... IMMEDIATELY ADDRESSED THAT CONCERN ON THE VERY NEXT PAGE

me: ఠ_ఠ

ldskjflaksdjfkds

fdsfsdkf. “SORRY ABOUT THAT, FOR A MOMENT THERE I ALMOST FORGOT TO BEND THE ENTIRE UNIVERSE TO MY WILL”

holy fucking shit. his body was all “um, just a quick reminder that you’re HORRIBLY WOUNDED and have lost like ten gallons of blood and all of your cells are about to call an emergency meeting to shut this thing down before you get us all killed.” and he was all “WHAT WAS THAT?!” and his body was all “oh my GOD, FUCK, OKAY just forget we said anything”

and meanwhile Baby AFO is just lying there all “(◉⌓◉)”

this six-month-old child is truly and sincerely still trying to kill Kacchan while screeching death threats in high-pitched baby talk

this actually would have killed him too, if he’d succeeded in passing out. all that just to be punk’d by a damn baby

you are actually shitting me right now

at this point I’m genuinely not sure which of them has the more powerful angry toddler energy

oh no ffuffkdsfk

meeeeelting. meeeeeeltiiiiiing!!! oh what a world what a world

jesus Horikoshi I am genuinely speechless

... welp

WAIT NO WAY, REALLY?!?!

?!?!?! WAS IT ACTUALLY THAT SIMPLE THIS WHOLE TIME

-- lkjf

three times. three times in the same fucking chapter. I give up. apparently I’ll literally believe anything this man says. does it feel good, Horikoshi. preying on your readers’ hopeful naivete

yeefuckinghaw lmao

GOOD JOB KACCHAN YOU DEFEATED THE EVIL BABY

awwwww

I actually had a theory about this! well more of a wishlist item, really. I can’t remember if I’ve actually posted about it yet or not. but it’s like. you know how Deku and Kacchan are always being really dramatic about holding hands? wanting to hold hands; not wanting to hold hands; being afraid to hold hands; holding hands via proxy, etc. etc.?

and you know how both Endeavor and All Might have each done their own version of the victory pose that Kacchan is referring to here? with each one using a different hand?

so you see, I was thinking that it might be nice. might be a little poetic and all that. if at the end of the fight, Deku and Kacchan did, in fact, hold hands. and then did the victory pose together. and it became like their iconic hero moment. them standing there together. having accomplished their goal and defeated TomurAFO through teamwork. realizing their shared childhood dream. and sharing that moment of triumph with each other and with the world, ushering in a new era of heroes

anyway yeah. I was thinking that might be a pretty good ending. but it looks like Kacchan maybe really is about to pass out here now, lol, so maybe not? anyways time to finally scroll down

-- okay I literally said awww again out loud

what a fucking nerd. I have never felt more fondness for a character in my life

every damn person watching this on the news better have leaped to their feet and started applauding, goddammit. those motherfuckers better be CHANTING HIS FUCKING NAME. all those nagging reporters better be bombarding his phone with calls. those fuckers who deleted his footage from the Shouto interview better be shamelessly leaving him dozens of voicemails acting like none of that ever happened and presumptuously asking when he can free some time in his schedule to visit their studio again. all the heroes who haven’t hugged him yet better be lining the fuck up. that one guy from the post-kidnapping press conference in chapter 86 better be writing a fifty page letter of apology!!

oh hey it’s a random pre-battle flashback mysteriously taking place in Troy “a few days before the battle” even though I thought they only moved into that place the night before the fight

I love how Katsuki immediately narrows his eyes (I assume. we can’t see for sure but that’s the vibe I get) at Jeanist and has to resist the urge to call the police on him for that pun

so Hadou’s wondering what Jeanist is talking about because they already evacuated the civilians, so what else are they trying to protect. and Edgeshot is all, “well obviously we’ve gotta protect everyone’s future,” which is a nice... rearshadowing?? for him saving Katsuki’s life later on lol

and now Mirko is all “get to the fucking point already.” which, same

so Jeanist says that Tomura is an even bigger problem than AFO, because at least AFO doesn’t want to murder everyone on the entire planet. and he concludes with “he’ll probably try to touch the ground and use his quirk.” which is a conclusion that I have to say wasn’t really worth two pages of flashback buildup for, considering that we all figured that out years ago

I’m guessing this is all just some sort of awkward transition back to Deku’s fight now lol

and now we’re getting two pages of exposition on how long it would theoretically take Tomura’s Decay to spread throughout the city, and then the entire country, yikes

damn. talk about stakes

and now finally back to Deku!!

shoutout to everyone who correctly predicted that Deku was once again talking out of his ass when it came to being out of Gearshifts. we all knew. unlimited supply

wow Tomura way to throw AFO under the bus

the way I recall it, AFO wasn’t the one who failed to kill him back then lol. but go ahead and talk your shit king

DEKU WHAT ARE YOU DOING

holy shit?!?!

like my first thought was “well last time he did this he just tried to steal OFA rather than Decay him, so he’ll probably try that again and it’ll be fine.” only to remember that the AFO inside Tomura is currently permanently(?) out to lunch, and Tomura himself doesn’t give two figs about stealing OFA. so, uhhhh >_>

(ETA: nevermind.)

but then this happened

Deku what the actual fuck

OH MY GOD??!?!

HOLY SHIT

okay. okay, fuck. lemme gather up my thoughts, and then we’ll wrap this up

they’ll never admit it, but you know the other OFA Vestiges secretly resented Shino a tiny bit for being the only one of them to not be gruesomely murdered. bet they all feel guilty for thinking that now

Shino and Banjou also seemed to have this cute little pseudo-rivalry thing going on, so I really feel bad for Banjou now. :/ he looks so horrified in that bottom right panel

gotta admit, I did not see this coming in the slightest. OFA has been this immutable “I do what I want!” quirk for so long that I never thought Tomura or AFO would actually succeed in stealing it, even partially. that shook me to my core

BUT, it’s also really exciting to me because it’s going to make this battle much more interesting if Deku can’t use his get out of jail free card. shit just got way more real and I’m here for it

lastly, so! let me tell you guys my prediction. I still can’t see Tomura being the final villain lol. I just can’t. it feels too anticlimactic. if I’m wrong, I’m wrong, and I’ve certainly botched MANY predictions in the past, but I have not yet learned my lesson from any of it and I will not apologize lol

so here’s what I think. Deku and Tomura battle it out for the next chapter or two, and Tomura snatches up more of Deku’s quirks one by one. we see all of the Vestiges disappearing and the mood gets more and more desperate. eventually we’re down to just Kudou and Yoichi. Deku is panicking, but for some reason Kudou seems even MORE panicked

Kudou/Gearshift eventually gets stolen too, and it looks like this might finally be it for Deku (I have no idea how he’d stop Tomura from Decaying the ground once Blackwhip gets stolen, btw, but maybe Katsuki or someone else interferes in desperation towards the end). but just when it looks like Tomura is finally going to take the last piece of OFA, Deku’s vibes suddenly do a 180, stopping Tomura in his tracks

cut to the OFA Moon Gorgeous Meditation Realm, where Deku and Yoichi are staring at the door -- yes, that door -- in shock. because it’s finally been opened (now that the other Vestiges are no longer there to keep it at bay). and just like that, enter AFO, for the THIRD FUCKING TIME :D :D

tl;dr, HERE’S HOW HORCRUX!DEKU CAN STILL HAPPEN!!! wait where are you all going. wait come back

anyway so wow that was a really bizarre chapter that I truly thoroughly enjoyed, which should probably be a bit concerning. on to the next two week break! (for anyone who’s not aware, Shounen Jump will be on break next week, so yeah.) I’m on chapter 391 now. so close but still so far. the end of the year has gone by too damn fast tbh

#bnha 410 #bakugou katsuki #all for one #midoriya izuku #shigaraki tomura #one for all #bnha meta #bnha theory #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha

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cheolism · 1 year

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you vs the universe

✧ jeon wonu x f!reader ✧ summary: you've had a bad day, starting from when the ac decided to give up in the middle of the night during summer. after a long, tiring day you return home to your beloved orange cat, butters, and your longtime crush/roommate, wonwoo ✧ wc is approx 4.2k ✧ tags: fluffy and comedy. roommates-to-lovers, mutual pining, the intimacy of mundane acts ✧ warnings: mentions of long hair; calls themself butters' "mother"; there's mentions of past injury; panic attack mention; mention of a sexual act but not in the context of it being sexual, but in the context of it being on a shirt bc i saw a sticker and got inspired ✧ note: sooooo the first two paragraphs are showing up messed up for me. There’s actually supposed to be another paragraph ahead of the current first one, but whenever I try and edit it in the post reverts back to the wrong one. So apologies for the first two paragraphs on here being messed up; when I try to fix it, it doesn’t work :(

You didn’t even want to enter your apartment complex. When you woke up in the early hours of night, you were covered in sweat. Your hair was stuck to the back of your neck, your shirt clung to your armpits. There was a damp spot on the bed from where you had been laying.

After using the restroom you stumbled to the thermostat, softly cursing your orange cat as he wound himself around your ankles. You had stared at the thermostat for a second, uncomprehending. Then you frantically fled to Wonwoo’s room and woke him up.

“Well,” he had mumbled, squinting at the bold 85 that the thermostat boasted. He fumbled with it for a moment, before relenting and announcing it was broken. “I’ll call the landlord in the morning. Not like anything can be done about it until everything opens up.”

So the two of you had opened the windows and turned on every fan in the apartment. You checked the temperature of Butters’ water fountain, ensuring the flow was still cold. Wonwoo had watched as you cooed at the tabby, reaching out and petting him before pressing quick kisses to his little orange head.

“You care more about Butters than you do me,” your roommate had said. His voice was deeper than usual, and you foolishly fought against how it seemed to force its way inside you and settle.

“Only slightly.” Your knees had cracked when you stood again. Wonwoo was looking at your shirt, and it was then you remembered the grey cotton had done absolutely nothing to soak up your sweat and instead a large stain spread out around the neck.

After bidding Wonwoo a good-night (for the second time in a night) you had discarded your pajamas and underwear, pulling out brand-new everything.

Which was what led to your current predicament, which was also further evidence that the universe was against you.

It wasn’t until you were standing in front of your building did you remember that the t-shirt you were wearing was your last clean one. It was the one Wonwoo had gotten you two years back when he and Mingyu had gone on a vacation to the Pacific Northwest that depicted a redwood tree and had the phrase “Big Red Stick National Forest” written across it. Even worse: you were also wearing your last clean pair of underwear, having intentionally set it aside yesterday evening as a reminder.

The air conditioning was back on in the apartment complex, but that did nothing to stop your bad mood or clothes from clinging to you; even worse, the cold air made your sweat stains turn cool and freeze against your skin.

“The whole universe is against me,” you announced upon entering your apartment. Wonwoo glanced over from his spot on the couch. Butters stood from where he had been curled up on Wonwoo’s chest, stretching out before jumping off.

“I think you’re exaggerating,” Wonwoo said, rather objectively.

Butters pranced over to you, looking like a small show pony. He stretched out his front legs one final time before looking up at you, blinking his huge green eyes, and screaming.

“I know!” You agreed, leaning down and scooping Butters up into your arms. He immediately began purring. Butters forcefully rubbed his head underneath your chin and you returned the favor, rubbing your face in his. “Wonwoo just doesn’t understand us, Butters. He’s a meanie.”

“Now how is that fair?”

Wonwoo stood, stretching. You watched as he extended his arms up towards the ceiling, fingers splayed and reminding you of Butters after a nap. Wonwoo was wearing a tank top, one that hung from his frame and did nothing to hide his collarbone. His muscles flexed as he stretched and you couldn’t help but watch his biceps strain, and you sort of wondered what it felt like to press your hand against his lower back as he stretched, feeling how his muscles moved.

Once upon a time, Wonwoo was nothing but a string bean with awkward angles and too-sharp elbows and knees. That was the Jeon Wonwoo you had met; that was the Jeon Wonwoo you had agreed to room with.

But then he met Lee Jihoon and suddenly decided visiting the gym was a brilliant idea, filling one of your cupboard shelves with protein powder.

Again: proof the universe was against you.

You felt Butters take a deep breath, and then he was screaming again. You turned to look at him, and he reached up and settled a paw against your mouth. His lime eyes peered into yours and seemed to say “get it together, mother.”

He was right. You needed to get it together.

“Why is the universe against you?” Wonwoo finally asked, done with his stretching. He made his way to the door, his feet bare and hair sticking up on one side, looking so painfully domestic and sweet.

For a moment you let your mind wonder. You were a successful business woman returning from a long day at the office. There was air conditioning in your apartment. You were greeted by your trophy husband and cat. Wonwoo was telling you about his day, which consisted of cleaning and gaming. You were setting Butters back on the ground so you could grab Wonwoo around the waist, sneaking your hands up underneath that too-large tank top and settling them against his skin. You were kissing Wonwoo, unhurriedly and sweetly, taking all the time in the world because the matching rings on your fingers meant that the two of you were united forever, that you had until the end of the world to kiss Wonwoo and tell him you loved him.

And then Butters wiggled against you, moving so he could dangle over your shoulder and forcing you to hold him like you would hold a baby you were about to burp.

“First the air conditioning wasn't working.”

“Obviously.”

“The subway was crowded and stinky. My carriage smelled like someone pissed in it, and someone probably did. I tripped stepping off of the sidewalk and onto the crosswalk --”

“Are you okay?” Wonwoo interrupted, his dark eyebrows furrowing. He glanced over you, eyes darting behind his glasses. “Did you get hurt?”

You shook your head. Butters was purring so loudly that the neighbors could probably hear it. “Only my pride was hurt, if I’m honest. A nice man who was jogging stopped and helped me up.”

Wonwoo’s eyes narrowed for a split second before his face took on his normal neutral look. You wondered if he was still hooked on the prospect of you falling. A handful of months ago you had been in the wrong place at the wrong time, walking in front of Soonyoung just as Seungcheol launched a killer pitch at him, the ball slamming into your stomach and causing you to double over.

Wonwoo hadn’t seen it happen; had only heard Seungcheol and Soonyoung’s shouts from the kitchen where he and a few others had been talking. You remember Wonwoo suddenly appearing at your side, practically shoving Soonyoung away from you and taking you into his arms. You remember him petting your head as you cried from the pain, Seungcheol recounting what had happened; you also recall Wonwoo shouting at Seungcheol and Soonyoung, whisking you away from the get-together and ignoring his two friends for a week.

That entire week he was hovering around you. He would routinely ask if it was okay to touch your stomach, if he could look at it, just to see the progress of the violent bruise that was forming. Wonwoo constantly had a frozen bag of peas or corn ready for you, switching one out whenever he deemed it too warm. It wasn’t until the bruise was fading and you urged him to get in contact with Seungcheol and Soonyoung did he finally let up on his mothering.

He was a good friend, caring so much about your wellbeing. Your heart fluttered a little at his concern, and you shifted Butters in your hold so you could reach out and squeeze his arm. “Don’t worry about it, Wonwoo! I didn’t even land hard enough to get a scratch, see?”

You offered the hand of your palm for him to inspect. He glanced at it casually. He then reached out and grabbed your wrist, eyes trained on the skin there. “That was nice of the old man to help you,” Wonwoo said.

“Oh, he wasn’t old.” He kept his eyes trained on your palm. You wiggled your fingers. You wanted him to look away from your hand with that serious look, wanted him to instead meet your eyes with his dark ones and be on the receiving end of such an open display of devotion. But instead it was your hand he looked at with such seriousness.

Again: the universe was against you.

“Thought you said he was an old man,” Wonwoo returned, tone casually. He pushed up his glasses.

You shook your head, Butters letting out a trill of discontent at the movement. “No, I reckon he was around our age? You should’ve seen his calf muscles, Wonie. They were huge.”

Wonwoo hummed a little. His thumb began brushing against your palm, gently swiping the skin there. Your heart began to beat in rhythm with the movement of his thumb. “Did you get his number, then?”

You furrowed your brow. “Why on Earth would I do that?”

Wonwoo finally looked up from your hand. His eyes no longer had that serious look to them, and a small smile curled the edge of his lips. You liked how he grinned like that, when his smiles weren’t large enough and instead seemed to play with only one side of his mouth. It made him look adorable; endearing; sweet.

“Okay. So no air conditioning; you tripped; the subway smelled like piss. What else am I missing?”

Wonwoo’s thumb stopped brushing against your palm. He released your hand. You immediately missed it and wanted to reach out and return his hand to its rightful place in yours.

“Uh. My chapstick was so hot from the weather that when I went to apply it, it was all mush. My airpods disconnected and Taemin’s MOVE blasted in the elevator. A toddler was screaming in the middle of the CVS and I honestly wanted to start screaming with him, because today has fucking sucked.”

Wonwoo nodded. He was still grinning. “Wow. Anything else?”

“My clothes are smelly and wet -- even my underwear.”

Wonwoo blinked.

Your eyes widened. You let out a shriek; Butters screamed with you. “NO -- they’re wet from sweat! I’m wet from sweating! Not from anything else -- just sweat! Because it’s so hot! It’s hot outside!”

“Ah,” Wonwoo’s mouth was agape, eyes round. He glanced at the wall. Back at you. At Butters. Back at you.

The universe was fucking against you.

“You can borrow some of mine,” he said.

And because the universe was so against you that even your own self was against you, you agreed.

The t-shirt he gave you was several sizes too-large, as Wonwoo tended to go for comfort over what looked good more often than not. It was from the vacation you, he, Mingyu, Seokmin and Minghao had taken around Christmas. You had said something about the Grand Canyon being the perfect place to take pictures and then suddenly Wonwoo was presenting you with a plane ticket and saying your flight was the next day.

And so your little group of photography nerds had ooo’d and aaah’d the Grand Canyon. Wonwoo hadn’t gotten a shirt at the giftshop, you remember (and tried to shove away the shame you felt at remembering something as little as that), but at a gas station several miles out he had suddenly appeared with a plastic bag and a large smile.

Then he had presented you with the shirt you were wearing currently. It had a picture of the Grand Canyon with a little hiker on the edge. There was a quote bubble coming out from the hiker that said “I rimmed the Grand Canyon”.

Seokmin had actually peed himself from laughing so hard.

His underwear was snug around your middle, and you tightened your shorts in an effort to keep them up. You walked from the bathroom, feeling infinitely better. Wonwoo was setting a bowl next to the sink, and as soon as he caught sight of you his eyes went almost comically wide. You did a little spin, Butters screaming at your feet.

“Ta-dah!” You cheered, doing jazz hands. “Better, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Wonwoo agreed. “Loads better.”

You joined Wonwoo at the sink, pushing your hair behind your ears. A fan sat on top of the kitchen table, practically starting a tornado from how violently it spun the air.

“What’s up with your buddy over there,” you asked, nodding towards the fan.

Wonwoo looked over at the fan. He had been looking at your chest, but to be fair to him, that was where the iconic text that still sent Seokmin into hysterics eight months later was. Wonwoo was probably just reading the phrase and reliving Seokmin’s embarrassment at having wet himself.

“Ah,” Wonwoo began. He pushed up his glasses. “I had cereal and it was hot.”

“Your cereal was hot?”

He looked back at you, eyebrows raising. “No? What -- why the fuck would my cereal be hot?”

“You just said it was!”

“No? I meant it was hot in the apartment,” he clarified. Wonwoo’s voice had that same tone he got when he found someone absolutely ridiculous. “The heat is definitely getting to you.”

You rolled your eyes. “Whatever. But I do know you’re not leaving me to do all these dishes.”

The pile was tragic. It was tragic in that it was a sore reminder that even with the two of you combined, you and Wonwoo didn’t have a single responsible brain cell. Or perhaps you did; Butters was still alive, afterall. So that had to qualify for something.

At least the pile was washed off, you justified.

It could be worse.

Like Seokmin and Soonyoung’s shared apartment.

“Okay,” Wonwoo began. He turned to face the dishes with you, hands splayed on the counter. His hands were tan, just like the rest of him, from spending time outside exercising with Mingyu (Jihoon absolutely refused to exercise outside). Every time you looked at his hands and were reminded of how large they were, you couldn’t help but swallow and try to combat the heat that flashed through you.

His hands were big. Almost comically big. Except it wasn’t funny how everytime you saw his hands you wanted to reach out and lace your fingers through his, you wanted to press kisses to his palms, wanted to know how it felt to have his hands settled at the base of your neck, guiding your head into a kiss --

Anyways. Anyways.

There was a dull thud. You looked to see Butters peering over the edge of the coffee table at a book he had no doubt pushed off. He looked away from the book and at you. Your eyes met, and you knew for a fact that if Butters was capable of judging another being, he would absolutely be judging you.

“You were going to leave the dishes to me, though,” Wonwoo pointed out. You looked at him. He was smiling down at you, eyes crinkling.

“Okay, you caught me,” you returned. “Now that we both know each other’s evil plan, let’s do them together.”

There was a brief pause. And then Wonwoo narrowed his eyes, cocking his head. “Do you hear that?”

You went still, trying to listen. “No, I don’t. What --”

“My phone is ringing,” Wonwoo said, pushing away from the sink. “I better go and see who it is!”

“I see your PHONE IN YOUR POCKET, ASSHOLE!”

Nonetheless, you shoved your hair back from your face and looked down at the pile of dishes. Sighing, hopefully loud enough for Wonwoo to hear, you forcefully turned on the water. You shoved the plug into the sink, vowing to make Wonwoo pay somehow.

You rearranged the dishes, setting the larger bowls and plates on the counter. You tucked your escaping bangs back behind your ears again. You began with the bowls, scrubbing them and trying to come up with a master plan to get Wonwoo back for his desertion.

Maybe you could only do your half of the dishes and leave his dirty ones. But then he’d catch on and just start ordering out more in an effort to not have to clean. You could make him clean out the litter box, but it was his turn to do it anyway. You could invite him to a movie night and make him watch the Barbie movies, but then again he somehow always found a way to enjoy himself during them.

You could make him watch a kid’s show. Maybe like Bluey? Fuck wait, though, you genuinely enjoyed Bluey and didn’t want to turn it into a punishment.

You let out a groan when your bangs fell from behind your ears, obscuring part of your vision again. You shoved them back, uncaring of the water that fell from your hands and dripped onto the shirt.

Oh! You could invite him to a movie night and invite Mingyu and not tell him! You had unintentionally done it once, having forgotten to tell Wonwoo that you had invited your mutual friend until Mingyu was knocking on the apartment door. Wonwoo had seemed sour the entire night, but you waved it off at him just being pissed that Mingyu took the last soda from the fridge.

Yes. That was the play.

You grinned at your brilliance, wiggling a little in celebration. Your hair shifted and once again your bangs fell to your face, dangling in front of your eyes.

Groaning, you lifted your hands from the soapy water to try and force your hair to obey you and keep away from your face. Then two hands settled on your waist, squeezing.

You jumped, shrieking a little. Wonwoo laughed, his chuckle deep and bringing heat to your cheeks. He squeezed your waist again. “Just me.”

“Well I know that now,” you snapped. “Announce yourself next time, dude. Could’ve been holding a knife and stabbed you. Reflexively.”

“Reflexively,” he mocked, before letting out another huff of laughter. You felt his warm breath on the back of your neck. Despite the humidity and heat, you shivered.

His hands moved from your waist, but you didn’t get a chance to miss them as they traveled up your body, close enough for you to feel the ghost of them. “Don’t move, baby.”

Obediently, terribly obediently, you went still. His long fingers carded through your hair, untangling it. If you were Butters you would have been purring. Then Wonwoo chuckled again as if he was laughing at you, and you couldn’t help but wonder if you were somehow purring. Then you caught yourself leaning back into his touch and realized why he was laughing.

You immediately straightened, pushing as close to the sink as you could. The edge of the counter dug into your stomach.

Wonwoo tugged one of your locks of hair. “Listen to me,” he chastised you. “I told you to be still.”

“I am,” you whined.

He didn’t say anything. His hands returned to your hair. Wonwoo’s fingers resumed their petting, but this time they didn’t linger. He pulled at your hair, gathering it. It wasn’t until he was tying the scrunchie around your hair a second time did you realize what he was doing.

Your roommate was tying your hair up for you.

Wonwoo was tying your hair for you.

Jeon Wonwoo, the man you‘ve been daydreaming about for the past two years, the man you’ve been imagining holding hands and even kissing, was putting up your hair. He had seen you struggle with your bangs and took it upon himself to help you. He didn’t just hand you the scrunchie but did it himself.

You turned around as soon as you felt him tighten the scrunchie enough so it would hold. You peered up at him; he looked back down at you. His face was as neutral as ever, but even then you saw the little shine in his dark eyes. You wondered if you were delusional, wondered if he felt the same pull you did, if he felt the string that tied the two of you together tighten and urge you together.

“Why did you do that?

Wonwoo was quiet for a moment. Then he tilted his head, eyes narrow and sharp. “Guess.”

And then he was pulling away from you completely. Your mind was blank as he took a handful of steps away from you, watching him run a hand through his black hair and the muscles on his back flex.

Guess.

You were on him in a second.

Your hands went to his waist, turning him towards you as you lifted yourself onto the tip of your toes. He was leaning down to you, one of his hands going to your shoulder, bringing you close, the other to your cheek, guiding you to his mouth.

It was frantic and messy. He was pulling you closer and closer, arm wrapping around your shoulders and fingers sinking into your hair. His mouth was hot against yours, his tongue insistent and sloppy as it forced its way into your mouth. You let him in, your hands hurriedly shoving up the hem of his tank top and flattening against his skin. You felt the warmth of him, both from his skin and his mouth.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “Fuck.”

You let out a soft little noise somewhere between a sigh and a moan. He cursed again, his hands moving. One cupped your jaw and the other went to your neck. You let him manipulate you, his mouth taking and taking from yours, his teeth biting down on your lip.

The hand in your hair pulled sharply; you gasped.

Wonwoo pulled away. The hand on your jaw moved, the other one still holding you in place. You watched, heart fluttering and gut clenching, as he removed his glasses and tossed them onto the table.

And then his mouth descended onto yours, devouring once more. He pressed ever closer, his hand traveling to grip at your waist. He murmured your name, chanted it, as if it were ancient words of prayer. Wonwoo kissed you like you were a god and it was his offering, spit smearing across your mouths and nails digging into skin.

There was an inhuman scream. You let out a shout of your own against Wonwoo’s mouth, pulling away and whipping your head towards the sound.

Butters screamed again, scrambling against the coffee table before launching himself off it. He continued his scream as he sprinted across the living room and into the kitchen, his orange tail pointed straight up into the air. Butters slid on the hard floor as he came upon his food bowl, where the automated feeder was dinging and announcing dinner time.

You watched your orange cat inhale his food, completely unaware (or uncaring) of what had just taken place between his parents. Slowly you turned to look up at Wonwoo, who was already looking at you.

“Uh,” you eloquently began. Shyness crept its way into you, as if you didn’t just have Wonwoo’s tongue down your throat and weren’t half a second away from offering yourself on a silver platter.

“Hi,” he returned, just as awkwardly. He shifted, his hands moving. One remained at your waist while the other went to the table, retrieving the glasses he had heatedly discarded.

You watched as he put them back on. The air was silent between the two of you, but just as rigid as in the moments leading up to the kiss. But instead of filling you with passion and heat it made you cringe, your hands flexing against Wonwoo’s bare back.

“Okay --” “So here’s the thing --”

Both of you abruptly broke off. You and Wonwoo were both still as you waited for the other to continue. When neither of you did you couldn’t help but giggle, pitching yourself forward to bury your face into his chest.

Wonwoo’s chest rumbled as he laughed, his arms going around you to hold you close. You felt him press his face into your hair, glasses digging into the top of your head. Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest, thudding loud against your ribcage.

This was it.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for like, two years,” you mumbled into his shirt, words rushed and your mouth practically smashing against his chest.

Wonwoo was still for a moment. You felt as if eternity had fit itself into those few seconds of pause, your heart coming to a complete still as your mind leapt to conclusions. This was the moment everything would change, and your brain was screaming like Butters did at midnight when he found either you or Wonwoo's bedroom doors closed.

Then he was pulling you away from him, one of his hands coming to guide your chin so you were looking up at him. His eyes were soft and sweet, and the corner of his mouth was beginning to pull up in a smile. “Say that again? I didn’t hear you.”

“Yes you did,” you protested. You were grinning; your heart was dancing. “Asshole.”

Wonwoo chuckled again, and then his mouth descended on yours.

Okay. Maybe the universe wasn’t completely against you.

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simpingforstardew · 8 days

Text

misty [chapter three]

pairing: sdv harvey x reader

synopsis: harvey has always been a man of routine and order— although just as he begins to tire of his life in pelican town, a new farmer moves to the valley and turns his life around. chapter three.

warnings: poor overworked harvey :(( please enjoy my harvey playlist while you read ♡ (this is crossposted from ao3).

word count: 1.6k

<< last chapter | next chapter >>

The fluorescent lights of the clinic cast a harsh, sterile glow, illuminating the white walls and linoleum floors of Harvey’s small office, casting an unnaturally pale glow over the cluttered desk. The clatter of the doctor’s footsteps on tiled floors echoes through the empty hallways.

Today was supposed to be different. Today was supposed to be his day off.

For the past two weeks, Harvey had been working overtime, sacrificing his days off to update Pravoloxinanone prescriptions, coordinate with healthcare professionals around Ferngill, and arranging appointments for the townsfolk. Turns out that without the distraction of an attractive farmer, the passing work days have been unforgivingly laborious.

He could, in theory, ask Maru to pick up some extra shifts, to stay behind a couple hours more. He knew she was eager to help, but he couldn’t bring himself to burden her further. She had her own responsibilities, attending college lectures online while juggling part-time work at the clinic.

A sudden death rattle of his fax machine shattered the silence, its mechanical whirring cutting through the stillness of the office like a knife— a relentless reminder of the endless stream of tasks demanding his attention.

He glances at the clock on the wall, his tired eyes struggling to focus through the thick lenses of his glasses.

3:30 pm.

Another hour wasted, another day lost to the demands of his job. He sighed wearily, running a hand through his greying hair. Harvey still couldn’t tell if the strands of silver were a testament to his age or his perpetual stress. He didn’t know which answer he would prefer.

He gazed out of his window, watching sparrows gracefully darting through the clear sky above. Dark-eyed juncos, specifically— Junco hyemalis. Harvey’s brief fascination with bird-watching while at University always managed to resurface during moments like this, when searching for an excuse to look away from his work.

The sight stirs something within him, prompting him to break the monotony. Locking himself in his office, Harvey realized, would only consign him to an evening of fatigue. So, he pushes away from his cluttered desk, picking up his green overcoat from the coat rack as he leaves the clinic.

Hurrying down the cobblestone path, Harvey’s mind races with a cacophony of thoughts. He fails to notice you walking his way until it is too late.

You collide with a jolt, and Harvey stumbles backward. The doctor could practically hear his heart pounding in his chest. His dishevelled appearance must have been evident, his fatigue and stress written plainly across his face.

“Oh, shoot, I—,” You panic, rubbing your shoulder bashfully, “I am so sorry, Harvey I-,”

“No, no, It is perfectly fine— I was just, distracted tthinking about a recent article I read about the recent rise of…” His voice trails off, acutely aware of how awkward he must sound, “Whooping… cough.”

“Hm, that doesn’t sound like much fun,” you grimace sympathetically.

“Oh, on the contrary! Pertussis is actually rather fascinating, that reminds me to reach out to Jodi and Shane to see if they can book a vaccination appointment for Vincent and J—”

“You’re doing the thing.” You interrupt, recognising a fellow workaholic when you see one. A kindred spirit.

“What thing? I am not doing a… thing.”

“Sure you are— you’re doing the thing I used to do at my old job,” Your tone gentle but firm. “You grovel and moan over your work, it stresses you out so you take a break, then you realize you’re stuck thinking about the work that was stressing you out!”

“Well, I am a doctor— There is no way for me to not think… I- I have an entire town to look after for Yoba’s sake. ” Harvey retorts defensively.

“Of course, and that’s the problem.”

“That is..?”

In that moment, as you notice the doctor picking as the skin on his fingers, you see the bags under his eyes; the paleness of his skin. You had seen undead creatures in the mines more full of life.

“Who’s looking after you, Harvey?” your voice softens, concern evident in your eyes, “I mean, I don’t want to pry, but I’m not surprised you’re stressed with the weight of the valley on you all the time. But you can’t manage that burden alone. Nobody could.”

“O-Oh, I um—,” Harvey falters, stammering as his defences crumble in the face of your genuine concern, “Appreciate your candour, truly, but you do not need to worry about me. My well-being shouldn’t be any of your…” He huffs, his cheeks flushed.

Despite his larger stature, Harvey’s wide eyes scanning your face anxiously made the man appear small; weak. You ignore the impulse to take his rosy cheeks in your hands, or to clasp his hands to calm his nervous fidgeting.

He clears his throat as his phone rings— a blocky grey mobile, a model you haven’t seen since 2005.

“I- need to take this call, I’m sorry.” He leaves, jogging back to the clinic. As you see him leave, you wonder what exactly he was apologising for.

As you push open the creaky doors of the saloon, the sounds of clinking glasses and laughter wash over you like a warm embrace. The dimly lit room is filled with the scent of aged wood and the tang of whiskey.

“Hey there, stranger!” Sam’s booming voice cuts through the din, drawing the attention of the entire room. His grin is as infectious as ever, and you can’t help but return it as you make your way over to the group by the pool table. Abigail and Sebastian wave you over eagerly, their faces lit up with genuine excitement.

“Hey gang, sorry I got caught up with something,” You drop your backpack on the polished wooden floor as you crash onto the plush sofa next to Abigail.

It’s been years since you’ve all been together like this—no screens or avatars, just flesh and blood friends reconnecting in the real world. You couldn’t help but feel a wave of nostalgia wash over you. Sure, Sebastian is now a little taller, Sam a little more pierced, Abigail a little more muscular. Despite what has changed since you last visited the valley to see your grandfather, the gang was still here. And with the way you all slip into conversation, it’s as if you never left.

As you settle in, taking in the familiar faces and the comforting hum of conversation, Abigail leans in with a mischievous glint in her eye. “So, what’s going on with your love life? It seems like every time we’d chat online, you’d either be lovesick or swearing off romance altogether.”

Your smile falters slightly.

It wasn’t as though you weren’t looking for love— if anything, you consider yourself quite the romantic— but with the chaos of the farm, dating seems out of the question.

“I don’t know, Abs. I’ve come to realise that dying alone is underrated,” You quip with a chuckle, hoping a comedic distraction will satisfy as an answer, “Honestly, the freedom of being single rules, you guys should try it some time.”

“Nahh,” Sam lets out a hearty laugh, flopping down on top of you and Abigail with all the grace of a newborn foal, “We’ve got the dating thing down, shout out to your lonely ass though.”

“Sam!”Abigail gasps incredulously, pushing the blonde off with a huff, though there’s a fondness in her eyes that belies her words, “Don’t be an dick!”

You all share a laugh as Sam looks up from his crumpled position on the floor, his puppy-dog eyes silently pleading for forgiveness.

Sebastian places his drink on a nearby table, sauntering over to the three of you, “Well, (Y/n) if you ever need a wingman, you know where to find me.” He smirks at you before picking up the pool cue resting against the wall.

“Pfft, as if they’d pick you to be their wingman when I’m right here!” Sam stands up, looking frantically between you and Sebastian before dropping dramatically to his knees, “Right, bestie? You’d totally trust me to pick you out a partner!”

Before you can imagine what having the punk as your wingman would entail, the bell above the bar’s front door chimes: Elliot strides through the saloon, exchanging greetings with Emily and Gus before running his fingers through his auburn hair. You wonder what shampoo he uses.

The poet’s eyes scan the room until they land on you. “Ah, apologies for the interruption. Have any of you seen Harvey, perchance? This is the second time he has failed to show…” Elliot’s voice trails off, concern etching lines into his chiselled features.

“Oh, I saw him earlier. He seemed,” Overworked? Exhausted? Close to death? “…busy.”

“Ah, well that certainly sounds like him. If you happen to run into him again, do try to convince him to re-join society.” Elliot laughs, although there is no more humour in his statement as there is truth.

As the author leaves, the conversation in the saloon continues to flow. Despite your best efforts, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you might have overstepped with Harvey earlier— the thought gnaws at you.

You don’t know why you are so worried about him, surely he can look after himself; surely it didn’t matter if he has somebody in his life to look after him. You try not to think about somebody else being there for him. Somebody else holding him at night. Somebody else wiping away his tears.

Instead, you force a smile, joining in the laughter, as your concern for Harvey lingers, a shadow over the otherwise cheerful atmosphere of the saloon.

#sdv #sdv fanfic #sdv x reader #stardew valley x reader #sdv harvey #stardew valley fanfic #sdv harvey x reader #sdv harvey x farmer #sdv harvey fanfic #stardew valley harvey #stardew harvey #harvey sdv #sdv harvey x y/n #sdv harvey x you

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vigilskeep · 7 months

Text

why the kirkwall chantry is dedicated to hessarian, and why that gives us more than just a cooler name for it with a sexy accusatory nickname for anders in there somewhere: an illustrated guide!

(wait, wait, please remind me who hessarian even is, i hear you ask. hessarian was the tevinter archon who ordered andraste’s execution on the pyre. but struck with guilt at the last minute, he mercifully (i GUESS) killed andraste with a sword rather than let her suffer in the fire. he converted to andrastianism a decade later and took the rest of the imperium with him. he’s really popular in tevinter because, you know, he kind of improves their whole role in the story, and the chantry there likes to think he’s the most important disciple. you may recognise him from being one of the spirits in the urn of sacred ashes gauntlet, from the lore behind the blade of mercy gift for fenris, and the ‘blades of hessarian’ group on the storm coast in inquisition.)

okay, let’s first get the basics down: why do i think the kirkwall chantry is dedicated to hessarian? merrill, our glamorous tour guide to andrastian nonsense, is going to show us why

here’s merrill examing the architecture of the kirkwall chantry. and it’s covered in this guy!

how do we know this guy is hessarian? let’s compare it to some other, canonical andrastion depictions of the latecomer disciple. hessarian is typically depicted with some type of crown or headwear to demonstrate his status in tevinter, robes to denote him as a mage, a long beard probably also symbolic of tevinter culture at the time, and, of course, his blade of mercy. we can see all of these on the figure repeatedly shown in and outside the kirkwall chantry, as well as a certain similarity in the face to the other depictions.

here’s another variant of how the kirkwall chantry depicts the blade of mercy! these are Everywhere, including right over the doors.

and here’s more variants of the same figure inside. he’s carrying some kind of incense burner instead of a sword here, but it’s clearly the same face with the same crown and that classic hessarian beard. note his position of power flanking the enormous andraste figure.

so... why does that matter? isn’t it just a repeated asset?

no, it’s CRAZY actually. and here’s a couple reasons why!

(fascinated by genitivi’s word choice of glitzy mansions, btw.)

firstly, the kirkwall chantry’s dedication to hessarian’s figure is one of the biggest markers that it, along with the gallows and the darkspawn, is a legacy of tevinter. as i said, he’s the favourite there. kirkwall was once emerius under tevinter’s rule, and from the moment we see the weeping twins that welcome you into the city, we’re supposed to remember that the city of chains has not changed all that much. just as emerius’ prisons now incarcerate mages, its industry is now powered by refugees, and the worst parts of its lowtown hold elves probably just as they once did, its magisters’ estates continue to hold the most powerful voices in the city: in this case, that of the chantry and grand cleric elthina. the hessarian statues that demonstrate the chantry’s wealth and power are inarguably either tevinter made or at least made in their style, with such similarity to the statues of slaves that terrorise the gallows courtyard. hightown is no more free of that inheritance than the circle.

secondly, the focus on hessarian can’t be an accident in dragon age 2, a game obsessed with the mercy kill. “without an end, there can be no peace,” says flemeth. somebody has to kill wesley rather than watch him turn into a ghoul. anders has to kill karl. hawke possibly has to kill their other sibling if they catch the taint in the deep roads. varric can kill bartrand when he goes insane. killing the serial killer of elven children rather than letting his madness continue is one of the most universally approved decisions in the game. in her last words, leandra thanks you for ending the mage keeping her alive with twisted necromancy, even if, and especially because, it means the end of her suffering in death. merrill has to kill a possessed keeper marethari. many more can be killed for being “too dangerous” to live, like the blood mage idunna. orsino is slain by hawke after transforming into a monster he would never have wanted to be. there’s probably a dozen more examples i can think of. and of course, in one of the most game-defining decisions hawke has to make, there’s the option to kill anders after the destruction of the kirkwall chantry. merciful is not the word i would use for that, but it has certainly been framed that way. i suppose that’s the same as what i think of hessarian’s actions, isn’t it? (we’re focusing on the andrastian relevance here and not the godawful treatment of mentally ill people in this game, btw, although. yikes.)

“don’t compare yourself to andraste,” says sebastian to anders. he could try telling the game that. hawke gets cast into a lot of roles, but when anders believes they will kill him, he’s casting himself as the martyred andraste, dying to burn rebellion into the face of thedas, and hawke as his hessarian, quick with the merciful blade. i suppose it’s fitting that the kirkwall chantry should be consecrated in the image of its champion. and that the chantry covered in that image gets destroyed moments before hawke makes their choice, if they decide to make a different one. it’s also worth mentioning that meredith is a mimic of andraste, too, with her stolen crown, making anders and meredith obvious combatants for andraste’s legacy in the game. hawke doesn’t get much command of the narrative, but maybe they can at least dodge being anders’ hessarian, if they choose.

idk i think it’s really fucking cool and we should talk about it more, basically! there’s a lot of other angles to take. hessarian is such a fun lore figure to explore. for example, i didn’t even get into the prominence of an andrastian mage figure here, or that the blade of mercy is the symbol of the templar order and was invoked even earlier, in dao, as the “blade of mercy” by traumatised mages who desperately sought to be purified by the templars’ judgement.

also, i think ‘the chantry of hessarian’s mercy’ sounds good. maybe ‘the chantry of our lady’s spilled blood’? that could be sexy. whatever. i’m workshopping it

#long post #kirkwall #anders #i’ve been to the church on spilled blood in st petersburg it’s so extraordinary

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vampykween · 5 months

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You know how some freaky stuff happens sometimes. People going missing with no evidence of them getting kidnapped at all. You see this woman with her child walking inside the grocery store, shopping for groceries then suddenly she turn a corner and she and her child was never seen again. What if that happens to wife reader and her child with toxic husband simon? Honestly I just want an excuse to read through his pov for once

anon this so eerie!!! because i literally had a nightmare i got kidnapped last night i swear!!! also, forgive me this isn't totally fleshed out :( but i knew i would be better at writing the emotional side of this versus a ton of action but i hope you enjoy it anyway!

simon could recognize you anywhere; he could never get enough of the familiar hairstyle you always wore and the curves of your body. he also could recognize the little hands clasped in yours, toddling after you. you used to always lovingly complain that your firstborn was his carbon copy, so he would quiet you with kisses and retort that you two would just have to make another baby so you could have your mini-me. you're debating between some odd two items on the shelf like you always did; he used to groan at how long you spent grocery shopping, it's not like your family strayed too far from what you got every week. now, he'd give anything to have you reminding him to check off the items on your list and to please stop letting the baby gnaw all over the handle of the cart.

simon's heart ached at the realization that he was admiring what once was his life from afar. now you two were divorced, lived in separate places (he's a little proud you worked your ass off to get your own place, but only marginally), and he didn't get to wake up on weekends with slobbery little kisses pressed into his scarred face followed by squeals of "daddy! daddy! wake up!"

shaking himself out of his daydreaming, he watches the three of you turn the corner, and despite feeling acutely aware that he probably looked like a creep, he trails behind you. instead of finding you and the girls, simon was met with the sight of a hastily abandoned cart and the tiny skeleton plushie his youngest always carried around.

suddenly he felt like he was on a mission; his senses were on high alert, and his head swiveled rapidly but steadily to survey his surroundings. there was nothing amiss in the aisle where you three had disappeared and so, he swiftly slinked through every aisle searching for any sign of his family.

when his search comes up short, simon's heart clenches painfully in his chest; his body growing hot with rage until he feels like a roaring furnace. he wasn't sure if the tears pressing behind his eyes were from anger or devastation. he couldn't bear losing his family again, not after he tried so hard to save them the first time. he may be emotionally damaged and shit at showing his appreciation, but you and those tiny girls were his entire universe. how was he supposed to go about his life when his reason for living had been snuffed out? you were the light to his dark and stormy aura, and he wouldn't rest until he found you; there was no alternative he would ever be able to forgive himself for.

#mic answers #mic writes #toxichusband!simon #toxichusband!ghost #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley

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starberry-cupcake · 6 days

Text

I'm back! Thank you kindly for your patience, we're done with Act III! It was probably a terrible idea to wait because this is so long, I'm so sorry.

previously, in harrowhark! a vagrant the ninth:

this happened

also a couple previews that will show up in this but are in the tag

currently, chapters 24-31 (END OF ACT III!!!):

harrow wakes up after sleeping a sensible amount of hours in yandere twin's room

yandere twin, who's into chomping cavaliers, complains about having had some harrow soup

they have a sort of tender moment, I guess

they have a complicated dynamic

harrow falls asleep again

she's in the bed and yandere twin is sleeping on the floor

and harrow is woken by the sound of self inflicted pain and torture

harrow gets tired of this and decides to just rip yandere twin's arm off

@lady-harrowhark reminded me that I called this (!!!) in this recap

I had absolutely 100000% forgot I said that but congrats past me!!!

so, there's this scene in which harrow rips yandere twin's arm off and puts a new bone-y one in there, remade with her own parts

like this

some people have told me in the replies that it's a sessual sort of scene, and I get that, I suppose it was the vibe it was going for

total respect to that

but I'm gonna be honest here

it felt like I was witnessing a birth and harrow was the midwife

so harrow lets yandere twin know that she's been improving her necro powers via studying and practicing to try to make up for her being "lyctor lite"

harrow and alleged gideon aka ortus are the only people here that seem to be getting any work done tbh

so now, with the new arm, inner chad can use the sword again

and yandere twin is happy because she's now a proper lyctor and has senior chad aka augustine's approval

harrow is proud of herself for doing nice necro things like chopping and reconstructing arms

as a thanks, yandere twin agrees to help harrow to kill alleged gideon the first aka ortus

nobody asked you, but ok

I actually have no qualms with alleged gideon aka ortus

because he's at least direct and honest about it

everyone here has an agenda, at least this guy's like directly trying to physically kill harrow

at this point, I respect the direct approach

augustine and emperor reverend professor john can go fu—

WELL, ACTUALLY, WE'LL GET THERE LATER

CHAPTER 28

we're back at gideon-less canaan house

canaan house isn't safe in any universe, all the trails lead to death

everyone who's alive or accounted for is having a sleepover

there's a bunch of people unaccounted for, actually

the kiddos from the fourth are allegedly hidden elsewhere

who knows, at this point

I don't trust anyone

there's a fog and rain and water rising still

which reminds me of the movie identity, in which they all were trapped in that motel because it wasn't actually a motel and they weren't actually alive per-se

magnus and abby say that protozoa should have decked mayonnaise uncle

which is one of the reasons why the gideon universe is superior

aside from the presence of gideon and camilla

I miss them so much I'm gonna start biting cavaliers

anyway, where in the hell is duracell bunny nephew???

he wasn't with mayonnaise uncle when he yeeted himself

his soul, which got detached from his body in the gideon universe, is still flying like a balloon across universes and dimensions, I guess

abby didn't expect regina george twin to die, apparently, and says "if she's gone, then perhaps that means..." but doesn't elaborate

nobody ever elaborates

abby also makes harrowbean read another one of the "harrow texts"

I can't keep adding them all together in recaps because this will end up being super long but here goes the new one

"I will remember the first time you kissed me —you apologized— you said, I am sorry, destroy me as I am, but I want to kiss you before I am killed, and I said to you why, and you said, because I have only once met someone so utterly willing to burn for what they believed in, and I loved him on sight, and the first time I died I asked of him what I now ask of you. I kissed you and later I would kiss him too before I understood what you were, and all three of us lived to regret it—but when I am in heaven I will remember your mouth, and when you roast down in hell I think you will remember mine"

so yeah, we've got a triangular situation, I suppose

I need to put all of them together to continue to draw connections

my though was that this could be ice cube barbie aka annabel lee, because of the long-lost sun, but I'm unsure still

I don't think the timing fits the other side of the 3d model that's the gideon's mom and rebel leader situation

inconclusive still

abby suggests harrowbean she might be haunted

which might also fit with ice cube barbie??? maybe??? idk

CHAPTER 29

harrow says she doesn't remember shit about chad

get perpetually owned, chad

mercygirl asks harrow things about her necro process for the arm reconstructing and the last thing she asks is "what is the name of the saint of duty?" to which harrow says "ortus the first" and mercygirl goes

me and my "alleged gideon" theory are very happy about this

the hill I will die on

mercygirl continues to use onomatopoeias to express herself

I do not want to think about what that would imply in a later situation I don't want to dig into

"you read unholy omens in the way people say good morning" that's what these recaps are, thank you very much harrow

that's our tagline over here, that's our brand

"how you loathed any sentence beginning with augustine says" SAME, BESTIE

I HATE THAT MAN

he can go fu— ANYWAY

harrow and yandere twin are having sleepovers so that harrow isn't murdered in her sleep

apparently the nudes are cyrus and his cavalier and yandere twin likes that energy

they gifted them to others as souvenirs too

it's like if you had a university classmate who sent nudes to the groupchat every birthday

yandere twin says augustine the asshole has agreed to help kill alleged gideon aka ortus the first

I don't trust any of these lyctors if they're willing to kill each other this easily

how do I know they've got my back in combat if they don't have each other's backs—

I CAN'T EVEN ARTICULATE MY THOUGHTS AND NOT SOUND TERRIBLE NOW THAT I KNOW WHAT HAPPENS LATER IN THE PARTY

ANYWAY

yandere twin reminisces about not having been apart from regina george twin much in their lives and hoping she's sleeping well wherever she is

I also don't know where she is

yandere twin tells harrow that she was more farsighted than her

which I'm sure she was, but she doesn't seem to remember shit about it, and the letters remain unopened

harrow thinks it's kinda gross that the cyrus lyctor murdered his cavalier to become a lyctor and then took all of their nudes to the emperor's bolthole

none of these lyctors are operating from a place of common sense, harrow

"you were lucky that the memory of your own cavalier did not hurt you—except sometimes in the form of a sick headache in your temples, or in words stuck on repeat in your head"

so, augustine's plan involves dinner

harrow, hearing that, is like this

they look for clothes in the cavalier's things

yandere twin says "valancy trinit was my height, weighed more than both of us put together, and —judging by her portraits— had a body that did not quit"

I sure hope she's a thick girl, because I've had enough disappointment with the gideon cover not letting her have the arms she deserves

I hope valancy trinit looks kinda like this

ANYWAY, here's the makeover vibes, as previously shared

apparently chad could embroider, which I have to admit is a good quality

hate giving him any props, but I must be fair

harrow painted the less cute skull in her repertoire and we respect that

they went to augustine's room and he's still an asshat

I don't like how he treats yandere twin tbh

I feel like yandere twin has a thing with validation because of how her life has been and he uses that

augustine justifies his betrayal to his fellow lyctor saying that he "caused more pain over these last scant forty years than I dare to admit"

mercygirl is also here for the party, all dressed up

SO HERE'S THE THING

I am so embarrassed I didn't pick it up on the fly and it took me the whole chapter to put it together

augustine tells her "dios apate, minor"

at the time, I didn't remember what it meant, and when I finished reading the thing, I was like "oh, it's exactly like the deception of zeus"

I forgot that's what it was called

I mean, I got the "dios" part, obviously, but forgot the "apate"

my ancient greek professor is going to come back into my life to shoot me at my doorstep

to be fair to myself, it was a long while ago that I took ancient greek

AT LEAST I PICKED THE REFERENCE UP AFTER, OK????

god, I'm so embarrassed

palmolive, I'm so sorry, I promise I figured it out eventually

mercygirl punches augustine in the face, which is great

he insists on it being "minor", which idk where the line is there and I'm not gonna ask

idk which things are or aren't...involved in a minor form of zeus's deception

mercygirl says she's not wearing the right dress, I don't think it matters, it worked just fine

CHAPTER 30

everyone gets drunk except for alleged gideon aka ortus and harrow, because they're the only people in this group project who are doing the work

augustine and mercygirl start fighting about something their cavaliers did back in the day

they start toasting for cavaliers and talking about how "hot pyrrha was"

there is no respect for the dead in the emperor's bolthole

there's about to be something else in the emperor's bolthole in a minute though

I was excited about them drinking, though, because that's when people start spilling some truths

the lost commander of BOE is a "she", her name is/was Commander Wake, she almost killed alleged gideon aka ortus

I'm still spinning with the gideon's mom theory

and the background telenovela I've got going on

BOE found a Herald, killed it and turned it into weapons against these clowns

good for them, tbh, kill these drunk irresponsible bastards

emperor reverend professor doctor john thinks it's narcissistic of him to toast to himself

I want to murder him in cold blood

I hate this man so viscerally I want to rip him apart with my hands

the twist in this book is that I'm gonna reach to his murder and it's gonna be me

it's like bastian reading the neverending story but it's me killing this man

his full name is john gaius but I had been spoiled of his name by people not tagging their posts

he also does a "your mama" joke because he's my villain origin story

"part of your brain temporarily calcified into atheism" I'M GLAD, HARROW

so, they start to make out, all three of them

I finally caught up about zeus's deception and all about here

emperor awful is sandwiched between mercygirl on a table and augustine behind him and they forget there are children in the room

well, not children, but same difference, they're a million years old

harrow and yandere twin get the hell out of that display

CHAPTER 31

yandere twin wants to kiss harrowbean before she leaves to kill alleged gideon aka ortus, but harrow doesn't let her

harrow says "my affections lie buried in the Locked Tomb" to which yandere twin responds "Somebody might even exhume them for you"

when harrow mentioned not wanting to be touched while sleeping beside yandere twin, I remembered the pool hug and all that, that was a nice time

people were being killed left and right but it was a nice time

ANYWAY

harrow has a whole plan and has it all figured out, it's a really good plan, it works very nicely, but alleged gideon aka ortus isn't where they told her he was

sometimes, life works that way

the man you plan to kill isn't in the training room and all

she goes to look for him in not!dulcinea's crypt or whatever

and she sees this

and the spear

she follows the children's hospital trail of blood to the incinerator

alleged gideon aka ortus is inside the fire thingy and not!dulcinea is operating the controls

I wonder who could have predicted that this woman could still be an issue even after death

me, it was me

anyway, no time for I-told-you-so's because harrowbean decides to help him out of there

I'm very happy because I need him alive

he knows things and he's less bad than everyone else around here

because he's upfront about the killing

he tells her some things while he's kind of out of it

like to use blood wards instead of bone ones

that it will make her safe from "us"

"I know you're there. Kill me all you like. I would know you in the blindness of my eyes" he says and, among other things "Just tell me—back then—why you brought along the ba—"

WAS HE GONNA SAY BABY???? WHAT IF HE WANTED TO SAY BABY???

I'm still on my gideon agenda, sorry if it's embarrassing to read

of course emperor dickhead stops him before he can finish it

alleged gideon aka ortus says he doesn't remember shit afterwards and harrow sees her own mental state reflected in his

they can't find not!dulcinea, apparently

she's probably operating heavy machinery elsewhere

harrow is putting up her blood wards when she hears augustine and mercygirl argue about the whole zeus situation

the incinerator alarm apparently interrupted their plan of letting this happen

whether or not they had a hand on the not!dulcinea thing idk

mercygirl says she didn't move her

we end this act with ice cube barbie maybe annabel lee saying "The water is risen. So is the sun. We will endure."

obligatory yearning for camilla moment

That is the end of Act III and of my commentary because this was way too long and I need to make less chapters at a time istg

#luly reacts to tlt #harrow the ninth spoilers #harrow the ninth #tlt #the locked tomb #long post #gif cw

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kippah-for-lemon · 8 months

Text

A COUPLE OF YEARS AGO,

a neighborhood science teacher asked if I believed that the Genesis account of creation was true. I answered, yes. Great, he said. Would I like to speak to his class about my understanding of creation? This modern-day John Scopes thought he was inviting a modern-day William Jennings Bryan to reenact the classic duel.

However, I told the class that while I believed the Genesis account of creation to be true, I also believed the scientific theory of evolution to be true. My response was greeted by puzzlement on the part of twenty-five eighth graders and disappointment on the part of their teacher. I went on to explain that science is one of humanity's great truth traditions, and religion is another. The two have threatened each other since well before the theories of Charles Darwin were formulated. But they needn't be engaged in such a heated rivalry because their goals are so different.

Science can help us understand how the world was created, but it can't tell us why it was created. And religion has no business telling us how the world was created, but we desperately need it to help us under- stand why we're here.

Genesis doesn't discuss the survival of the fittest, but, as you well know, Darwin's scientific creation story does. That story's operativeprinciple of the survival of the fittest became known as Social Darwinism, which taught that only the truly gifted deserve to survive. It is unfortunate that this teaching has become an axiom of modern life. In contrast, our Jewish tradition has always taught that we are responsible for the survival of the least fit: the orphan, the poor, the lonely, and the stranger, to name just a few. And in Genesis 1:27 we are told that every single human being is divinely gifted and deserving of dignity. The opening of Genesis tells about the creation by God of a universe of harmony, balance, and beauty, formed from soupy chaos, tohu vavohu. It is the most profound story we know, and it reminds us why we are here. It sets forth our work, and our challenge. But is the story true?

Regretfully I must admit that the story is not true, or at least not yet. When will it be true? When we accept our responsibility as God's partners in creating the world described in Genesis.

-Rabbi Rick Jacobs (b. 1955)

An excerpt from my Temple's Rosh Hashanah prayer book. Under the cut is just a testimony from me but feel free to reblog for the quote alone.

It really stuck with me because I was raised Protestant. I even attended a private Christian (nondenominational) school for three years. Sixth through 8th grade (for non-Americans, I was the ages of 11-14 give or take).

I was taught that evolution wasn't real. I wrote an 8 page essay on why Charles Darwin was wrong and that The Bible was correct. Little did I know I actually did believe in evolution, and so did most of my peers as I reasoned that over a long time of adaptations maybe there could be a different species

I was shell shocked when I switched to a public high school (14 years old) and flat out told evolution was true (or well as true as a scientific theory can get). I lost my trust for authority, and I realized how damaging my education had been.

I'm AFAB, and so I was taught my responsibility was to be quiet and to please my husband. I often asked far too many questions, especially when it came to the teachings of the Bible, to the extent my own teachers, men and women who were supposed to nurture my curiosity and be my guide into the world, shunned me.

Starting my Jewish journey, I sobbed. I sobbed after the first service I went to. It's so different from what I had been through before. I'm so glad I'm allowed to ask questions and it's even encouraged. I'm glad the Torah is scrutinized and we are encouraged to study the book and even admit when G-d has done wrong.

My partner, knowing my past, pointed this specific excerpt out to me. I had to fight back tears. I feel so loved and welcomed in Judaism.

"...Jewish tradition has always taught that we are responsible for the survival of the least fit: the orphan, the poor, the lonely, and the stranger, to name just a few. And in Genesis 1:27 we are told that every single human being is divinely gifted and deserving of dignity."

#jumblr #jew #jewish #rosh hashanah #Rabbi Rick Jacobs #jewish tumblr #jew convert #jewish convert #jewish pride #jewish joy

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hana-no-seiiki · 1 year

Text

RECREATIONAL

THIRD PART TO FEROZEVE SERIES : [PREVIOUS] [MASTERLIST] [NEXT?]

YANDERE POP IDOL! OC x MANAGER! READER x YANDERE ROCKSTAR SMUT

tw/cw: reader uses gn pronouns but has a dicc, unprotected seggs, unrealistic seggs, anal seggs. switch! reader, switch! eve, gong! feroze. dub/non con.

status: unedited.

thank you hubby @moyazaika for letting me use your son again, and for the voters that picked this fic (🤰🏻) in the emoji poll.

By pressing the Keep Reading button you are confirming that you’re 18 and above + consent to seeing dark / sexual content.

“Mx. Ma-na-ger~ !” Eve drawled as he glomped you from behind. Despite not hearing what he had to say or do aside from assaulting you with hugs, you were already dreading the next moments of your life.

“Eve, no.” You tried slipping away but are unfortunately unable to defeat hours of dance routines and gyms sessions Eve had to go through as a part of his training and work.

“But Mx. Ma ↗ na ↘ ger ↗ ! ! ! ” His pitch fluctuated as you had resorted to shaking him off instead.

“Eve, I already told you that I’m busy.”

And then he pouted.

You see, when an idol like the Jisoo Han pouts it is almost as if the entire universe has ended. It’s like the feeling you’d get when every puppy or god forbid every kitten dies. The feeling of utter sadness so insurmountable you almost crumble to your knees.

Eve had the power to create smiles and laughter across the globe, but he also had the power to completely destroy any semblance of happiness from a person. You knew that power very well.

You pinch the bridge of your nose, desperately attempting not to cringe or cry from his actions.“Fine. I’ll be free next evening. Don’t. Bother. Rosy.”

You thought he’d be satisfied with your answer but he only pouts even harder.

You sighed. This absolute man-child. “. . . Soo.”

He immediately flicks back to his cheery self. A boyish grin on his face as he separated himself from you and skipped away. “Okay~! I’ll see ya soon.”

That was way too easy. Oh god. What could that demon be thinking of?

As soon as he left, another one of your man-children came into your office. Groaning, he plopped himself atop one of your bean bag chairs.

Feroze doesn’t utter a word, and you could tell that his hangover had been a pain to deal with. Usually he’d already be all over you. It sort of reminded you of how he was during your early days with him. Still, he made the effort to show up despite the massive migraine he should be feeling right now.

“I—“ You started, but you are unable to finish your words as he’d already beat you to the chase.

“I love you, really love you, but if your next words are I told you so. Just don’t.”

Darn, he knew you too well. Time to take a different approach to asserting your correctness.

“Well you know what they say—“

“I’m going out to eat.” He seemingly teleported in front of you, flicking your forehead. And then, he was out. Just poof. Disappeared.

You stared at the hangover medicine you prepared for him located in the drawer of your desk, and humphed, “. . .He didn’t even let me finish.”

There are many stages of love in Urdu and Arab world. Attraction, love and even death, but infatuation; عشق (ishq) was what Feroze identified with. Literally speaking it just meant love. Symbolically however, it meant so, so much more.

It was both all of love in itself and a stage of it. It was above the notion of logic or sense. Just as how he felt with you.

❝

Ishq Nazuk-Mizaj Hai Behad (Love has a delicate disposition)

Aql Ka Bojh Utha Nahin Sakta (It cannot bear burden of logic)

❞

As an Urdu poet Akbar Allahabadi would say.

Feroze’s entire existence revolved around yours. He breathed for you, he’d die for you. The biggest regret in his life was how he didn’t meet you sooner, didn’t treat you the way you were supposed to sooner.

Feroze wasn’t actually mad or even annoyed by your words earlier. He could never, ever have such feelings towards you. He just needed an excuse to follow Eve. As to why he didn’t just do that? Well he had to see your face that morning to cleanse himself, of course. One look at you per day and all the negative energy in his life seemed to just fade away.

“Mr. Khan! How’s the hangover?” Speaking of negative energy.

Eve and him had been bonding quite well over the past few weeks. It was a miracle in itself. Despite the former’s overt interest in Feroze’s manager, he found the boy too cute to be murdered in his sleep. He had this ‘baby-ghorl’ aura about him that Feroze couldn’t help but be amused with. The rockstar could see why this idol had so many fans.

Eve approached him, his usually sparkly grin covered by the dark mask his disguise included. Promotional material for their collab had already been released to the public and has thus put them in the spotlight once more. Trying to go to that bar last night was already hell in the first place, meeting in a cafe where anyone could see them? That was just a wish for death.

Eve slid a small glass bottle that looked a lot like those syrups they marketed for younger kids. Or poison, one or the other.

Without a word, Feroze downed the liquid. And then immediately regretted his decision, hacking at the taste of it all, “What did you just give to me?”

“A hangover cure. Those usually don’t taste good no matter what country I go to. I knew you were a lightweight but I barely got to drink before you —“ Eve halted his bullying as soon as he saw the deathly glare Feroze threw at him.“Fine~ Fine! I’m sure Mx. Manager already made fun of your situation.”

Feroze turned his hazel eyes to the bottle.

“You spiked my drink, didn’t you?”

Eve doesn’t freeze up, he doesn’t even flinch, not a sign of guilt could be found on him. Feroze wouldn’t be surprised if the ravenette actually didn’t feel a hint of remorse for what he did. He acknowledges the boy’s fearless attitude. “I’m sorry?”

“I said, you spiked my drink didn’t you? Last night. I saw you put it in, but decided you could have a little fun with your ex-manager.” He emphasized your current status, that being out of Eve’s employment and in his. “So, did you?”

Eve twirled a lock of his bangs, avoiding eye contact. His ears had turned completely red. The usual glow about him somewhat dissipated. “Not enough.”

Feroze who was much less careful about his reputation and actions took Eve’s hand in his and held it, tightly. His callused fingers contrasted greatly to Eve’s soft, moisturized hands. “Well, we can’t have our Soo here feeling unsatisfied do we?” He massaged each finger vigorously while simultaneously keeping it as still as possible.

“What’s the catch? You wouldn’t just give away the love of your life away. Would you?”

“No. You’re right. I would never. But the benefits outweigh the negatives. I believe this collaboration of ours will help everyone in the long run.”

“Deal.”

You loved schedules and planning. It was everything to you. It’s why you worked as a manager for all these years. The intricacies of time management gave you a rush you could not explain. Perhaps this emotion was akin to what Feroze confessed to feeling about you. Though you heavily doubted it was that close.

You weren’t the type to beat up people if they didn’t follow you or your beloved schedule.

Were you?

In any case, as appointed, you arrived at Eve’s and Feroze’s shared studio. Perfectly on time.

“So, what did you want me for?”

“Well, I was recording this track. I already have Mr. Khan’s vocals and mine I just need . . .”

You had the knack to read Eve’s mind before he even spoke. It was why he adored you so much. Studying him was just a part of the job in your case. Despite his almost angelic demeanor, he felt more like the child you had to babysit rather than a proper partner.

“No way. I can’t sing.” You waved your hands in protest. You can barely hold a regular note for too long, how were you able to keep up with those trained singers the company usually hired for these things? You were meant to be in the backstage, not the center or anywhere near there.

Eve easily shoved you in the recording booth, “That’s why I’m here silly. To help you, now get in the booth.”

“Eve—“ You mouthed, trying your best to get out. But the exit had already been locked. Damn, how was he so fast?

And it’s official. The idol had you trapped. So easily as well. He should have done this ages ago. “Soo.” Your voice barely came out, anxiety hindering its proper passage. This wasn’t going to actually be a recording session was it?

His right hand then grabbed your outer thigh. You flinched, you thrash around, but he doesn’t stop.“Soo, I can’t do this with you — gah —“

“But why not~? Aren’t you a good little manager? You’ll do this for me won’t you?” He unbuttoned your pants, slowly pulling them down. Savoring the reveal of your precious [s/c] skin. While his scarlet eyes were firmly glued to your face, his left hand wandered to your clothed cock. Three fingers pressed against it, moving up and down gently.

“Mmf — For your information, I’m only obliged to follow Feroze’s —“ He stopped.

His appendages leave your side in a second. You were utterly disappointed in yourself as you realized you already missed his skin making contact with your body.

“Soo?”

He stood still for seconds until his fingers twitched.

After which, he laughed.

“HAHAHAHAHA! You think you were ever someone else’s? You’re mine, [Y/N]. Mine.”

It unnerved you. Not how maniacal his words or his guffawing, no, it was how genuine it felt in comparison to his usual one. In fact you were so caught up with his breakdown that you couldn’t even protest as he carried you in his arms, shoving lube up your little asshole and making you face the wall.

You hadn’t even realized his own penis was not covered anymore.

Everything just hits you when he thrusted in. Filling you with one slide.“Now make music for me, hm?”

Despite the microphone being a little too far from you, you were positive it could pick up the moan you just made.

It was like you felt everything, pain and pleasure mixed inside you and you couldn’t tell if you were enjoying this sick act or completely hated it. But one thing was for sure, you do nothing to stop him. Completely consumed by the feeling of his dick rearranging your organs.

“Louder, baby.” He picked up the pace, before shortly cumming inside you without warning. A reminder of his status as a virgin despite his personality. It doesn’t take long for him to get going again. “I wanted to be inside you for so long. I want to stay inside you forever.”

As Eve started speeding up, a mop of red hair entered your vision, “Rosy—“

You expected anger, you expected a murder you’d have to somehow cover up. But all your current client does was grab Eve by the shoulders.

“Ease up there, Soo.”

Eve’s horrifically ‘calm’ expression switches back into his playful once he faced Khan. You didn’t even know how much fear was pumping within your veins until he calmed down (at least outwardly) “C’mon. I know even you wouldn’t be able to resist this little hole.”

Were they . . . in this together? No they couldn’t be. They were just so different.

If only you knew how alike they were.

The limited space in the booth didn’t really feel good to the three of you upon Feroze’s words “Scooch over.” Eve had to back up while he was still inside you, allowing the other man to squeeze in.

Feroze grabbed your chin with one hand making you look to his face. “Look at me, meri jaan. My ishq.” and your cock with the other, tenderly stroking your member. “I love you alright? More than anything else in this world.”

“Then —“

“Let you go? Not a chance in hell.” He chuckled, increasing the pace of his handjob.

If you thought that Eve using you was too much, it was nigh impossible to imagine the stimulation you were currently receiving. “Sh- sto . . hah — p. Please.”

“Don’t break them yet, I haven’t even came.” You could however imagine the pout on Eve’s face. His thrusts stuttering from its once regular rhythm.

“Ssh. We’re doing this to record their pretty voice aren’t we?”

“Stop! Wh - hah - what about Soo’s reputation?”

Eve would use those words to blame you for his future breakdowns later on, your show of concern making his dick even harder than it already. But for now he could only express this feeling of gratitude by pushing it in deeper. “I’m a solo act now baby. It’s fine~”

“F-Fuhuck, I’m — “ He came inside you the second time, making your slick hole even wetter and causing you to cum all over Feroze’s hands.

“My turn.” The older man yanked you away. Eve’s semen dripped down to your thighs and legs as he’d separated from you.

“Hey!” He protested. But if there was one person who was more swole than Eve it was Feroze. The man putting him in a slightly bended position; looking away, and you in between the two singers.

“Hold on to his waist, meri jaan.”

You do as your told, feeling Feroze align your dick to Eve’s hole. Wait- he was completely dry how would he-

The answer was that Eve would take you no matter what. It did not feel great to either one of you, the only lubrication that existed was your previous ejaculation, and part of you knew that Feroze intended that. “Mmf—!” Mostly because he doesn’t take any time to warn you before he also inserts himself but in you. “I haven’t done something like this in ages . . . but nothing could compare to this”

Feroze helps you into a rhythm that ensured that you were either completely inside Eve or him inside you at every moment. Overstimulating you once more. When it came for his turn to thrust however, he put so much power that often times it would move you forwards and go a bit to deep.

“Shit! You’re doing that on purpose!”

“Not my fault you’re too excited to put a lil lube in!”

“I- I - think I’m — ! “ You closed your eyes, feeling your second release. A high you’ve never once reached before. A kind of high that ruins others as you’d find yourself chasing it.

But you knew, you knew it’d be impossible without these two men aiding you in that climb.

Feroze was right behind you as you reached the top. Thick, hot ropes of cum spill all over inside of you.

The three of you took deep breaths, but it was only a short respite for what would be a long, long, night. “We’re not done yet. I only came once.”

“The hell—“

Feroze turned you to face him, positioning you atop Eve’s back. His handsome face looked stunning even underneath the dim lighting.

You did not know if his following question was directed towards you or ravenette, “You won’t mind this, won’t you?” Just that his cock had already been enveloped by Eve’s canal.

“Mr. Khannnn, you could have let me lube up.” The idol complained between moans.

“You took them no problem but not me?”

“You’re different! And bigger! Ah, fuck!”

“You deserve a little punishment for spiking my drink. Besides their cum should be more than enough.”

“He did what?!”

“Ack—!”

“Take it, کنجر (kanjr)”

Feroze cackled at your worried face and Eve’s pain, pounding into him without a care in the world. His sadism really knew no bounds.

You three ended up staying the studio all night. Your hole and cock being used up for all its worth.

The album ended up being a massive hit. The title track, the one with your ‘vocals’ ended up breaking records and staying at the top of charts for months.

Comments on the song largely talking about how realistic the sensual sounds of sex in the background was. Completely unaware that it was the two famous singers making love to you.

fun fact: i was rocking out to mlp music while writing this lol (that and my cousin watching van helsing in the background, very very loudly)

#hns.eve #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagine #yandere oc #yandere fic #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc x you #yandere x you #yandere idol #yandere rockstar #feroze #yandere ocs x reader #yandere story #yandere core #yan core #oc x reader

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