#The People Have Spoken ; Wall Shenanigans | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

moon-rivr · 3 months

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imagine Peter on a date with Mj but he forgot that the date night was “that” night of his “monthly man spider Shenanigans” so either there’s a werewolf moment or he slowly mutates.No worry Mj doesn’t get hurt they’ll reinvent the date

later time

pairing: peter parker x mary jane reader

contents: hair color specified (red), reassurance, and mutation (fur, fangs, and eight eyes 🥸)

author’s note: so i wasn’t sure what version of peter you wanted so i went ahead and just used tobey’s (sorry if that’s not what you wanted)

word count: 3.4k

The world seemed to disappear beneath your feet as you moved across the stage, the lights accentuating every movement that you made. All that mattered in this moment was you and the scene, that strive for perfection that you needed so badly. The weeks that you spent at your vocal coach's office proving themselves in this very moment. Every line that you delivered had the right amount of inflection, every line spoken with just enough volume that even those in the back could hear. Your movements halted as the music stopped, at the mercy of what the director would say about your performance.

"No," the director told you out flatly, the smile on your face fading away slowly. The clapping from the other aspiring actors quickly dimmed down at your rejection. The words didn't materialize in your head until you looked around to see that the rest of the cast was looking at you expectantly, a look of pity painted on their features. "Excuse me?" You asked, a bit dumbfounded as you stood in place. “I said no. We have plenty of girls like you. We're looking for someone younger, maybe someone blonde," the director didn't bother looking up this time before calling out the next person on stage.

After basically being forced to make your way off from the stage, you found yourself walking down Broadway. the path back home ignited a hollow feeling inside of you, seeing everyone's name up on the posters hanging on the wall except for your own. You should be used to this kind of rejection, since it's what you've managed to make of yourself during the multiple castings you've gone to. No matter how many times you got told no though, you couldn't help but feel the fresh sting coursing through your veins at knowing that you weren't good enough. You weren't good enough for your dad, not for the casting directors, and certainly not for Broadway.

Your attention was derived from the thoughts running through your head when you heard some cheering in the background, your eyes focusing on the swinging vigilante saving a kid from a burning building. The crowd burst out into cheers as spider-man set down the kid onto the pavement, a woman running over to the child and wrapping her arms around him in a protective matter. "Oh thank you, Spider-Man! You saved my little boy!" the woman exclaimed, tears streaming down her face from the sheer joy and shock running through her body. The praise flew straight to Peter's head, eagerly hugging the woman back after she'd embraced him.

You knew that you shouldn't feel this way, shouldn't feel jealous for all the attention that he received from the public. It'd taken Peter a while to stop being seen as a public menace to be seen as someone who wants to save the city. But you couldn't help feel a bit bitter at the recognition that he got from the people of New York, the way that they cheered him on like he was their idol. It only made you long for that feeling of being admired, of being the reason that someone gets excited. You shook your head as if that would get rid of the thoughts clouding your mind, making your way back home after the excitement of the scene died down.

"I got an alert that there was a pretty lady needing my help around here," you heard from above you, your boyfriend swinging upside down as he looked at you. "Really? Wonder where she is," you responded, coming closer to him as you slid his mask up to his nose. You hadn't seen Peter in a while due to your conflicting schedules, you with your acting career and him busy with school and his photography gig. He came down to the ground, holding you close to his body before sticking to a wall as a method to get back home faster. No matter how many times you do this, the sensation of being up in the air and looking down at everyone was something you'd never really get used to.

Peter set you down at the living room, sliding off his mask and starting to take off his suit. "How'd it go at the auditions? I’ve heard you rehearsing a couple times but I didn't wanna bother you," Peter inquired out of the blue, the rejection now making a forefront at the center of your brain. "Well, I got rejected. The director said I'm not exactly what they're looking for," you responded, sitting down on the couch as you rubbed your temples. You could tell that Peter was growing exhausted from being the primary provider between the two of you, since you didn't get a 9-5 job just in case an audition would open up just for you. Despite the exhaustion that he felt, he'd never say anything to discourage you from what made you happy.

"Don't worry. I'm sure you'll get your big break sometime soon," he told you as he sat down next to you, holding your hands in his own. "I just don't get what i'm doing wrong. I put my all into that performance and he said I wasn't good enough because I wasn't blonde," you told Peter, a couple tears making themselves known as they streaked your cheeks. "It's his fault for not recognizing your talent, MJ. You're perfect the way you are to me, red hair and all," he whispered, his thumb rubbing small circles on your hands. He wiped your tears away with his other hand, simply holding you until you felt better.

"I'll see you later, I have to get to class before they mark me absent again," Peter spoke up after a while, rushing to change into his streetwear. You stayed seated on the couch, looking at him as he went through the motions of getting dressed. "Do you resent me in any way?" You asked him quietly, his gaze going from the belt he was trying to buckle to your eyes. "Of course not. You're going for something that you want, I could never resent you for that," he answered you, leaning over and kissing your forehead before he grabbed his backpack. You were left at square one, having to look through different casting calls and calling the few actor friends that you'd made throughout the journey.

After a few calls, you'd come up with no results or rejection under the prose that directors were simply searching for someone else. You buried your head into your pillow to wallow over the mess that your career had turned out to be, willing yourself not to burst out crying for the second time today. Just when you were thinking about running off to a farm and raising a couple cattle to make for a profit, your phone rang in your pocket. "Hello?" Your voice came out muffled as you answered the call, expecting it to be Peter or Aunt May. "Mary-Jane Watson, right?" The director from earlier asked, already sounding unimpressed with the way this conversation was headed.

"Yeah, that's me," you managed to answer after a couple seconds, pulling the pillow off from your face and straightening yourself out as if he could tell your appearance wasn't exactly Broadway worthy right now. "So, the actress that's playing Maisie called in to say she has pneumonia. The role's yours if you wanted it, the character description fits you pretty well and it's still a pretty big supporting character," the director told you, a bit of excitement and disappointment combined flaring you up at the prospect. "Uh, sure, I can do that. When do rehearsals start?" You asked him, making a mental note of all the details that he was giving you. You were excited to have the chance to act on the big stage but you wished that it wouldn't be because someone was out sick.

Peter came back home a couple hours later, coming over to kiss your cheek once he set his backpack down. "Hey, how'd your afternoon go?" He inquired, sitting down on the couch next to you as his hand rests on your knee. "It was alright, I called in to a couple friends but they said that there weren't any rehearsals available," you responded, leaning against him a bit. "Don't stress out too badly about it, something will show up before you know it," he told you, his thumb circling around your knee. "Well, about that actually. The director from earlier called and said that i could have a role in the play. Not the role I wanted, but a role's a role," you added after a couple seconds, watching as Peter grinned down at you.

"That's amazing MJ! We should go out and celebrate," Peter told you with a smile, clasping your hands in between his. You wanted to tell him that there was nothing to be celebrated, that you were simply just a second option. That you were just taking scraps from what another actress couldn’t have. But instead, you chose to swallow those words and nod meekly at him at the suggestion. "Okay, that sounds good. Do you have someplace in mind?" You asked Peter, forcing yourself to act excited about the prospect of the dinner. "Well, I was thinking that maybe we could out to that restaurant that just opened up downtown," he replied, the place making you feel a bit nervous. You knew that you and Peter's economic status wasn't exactly the best, but you weren't gonna say anything that might embarrass him.

You simply nodded along to the suggestion, smiling as Peter kissed your forehead. "I'm just gonna go out on patrol to make sure that everything's okay before we out and relax. Is that okay with you?" He told you, waiting for you to approve before he went to put on the spidersuit. You were pretty sure he would've gone even if you said no, but he still liked to have the assurance that you'd be okay with it. You figured you still had a couple hours before he came back, choosing to go over the new lines that you'd been assigned. While rehearsals didn't start until next week, you didn't want to appear unprepared after already being the last resort.

"Hey MJ, wake up," you heard a faint voice in the background, Peter already having changed from his spidersuit into a formal suit. It was an odd sight to see him dressed up, so you took a couple moments to let the sight sink in before you stood up. "Sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep. I’m just gonna go and take a quick shower before we go," you told him, stepping off to the bathroom to hurry up and get ready. You'd fallen asleep while you were going through the process of highlighting your lines, some of the ink apparent on your cheek. You washed it off, getting in the shower to start the notions of getting ready. Despite the initial reluctance that you'd had about going out tonight and spending money, you couldn't deny that it was exciting to get dolled up.

You picked out a green dress for the night, the color matching the color of your hair perfectly. After taking your hair out of the towel, you dried it out before curling it in a beach wave style. You walked out of the bedroom after putting on a pair of heels and doing something light for your makeup, looking up at peter with a smile on your face. "How do I look?" You asked him, doing a small twirl. He walked over and wrapped his arms around your waist, just enjoying the comfort of being in your embrace for a couple seconds. Your relationship with peter had been nothing short of difficult, with the amount of breakups the two of you had under your belt, but you couldn't help but enjoy these moments between the two of you. Perhaps that's why you kept coming back for more.

"You look stunning, like someone that's definitely made for Broadway," he finally spoke up after a couple seconds, stepping back to extend his hand towards you. You grabbed his hand, following him out of the apartment. "Alright, grab on. The subway's delayed today," Peter spoke up, letting you hold onto him before he took off swinging. What would've been an hour long trip and three different subways turned into a fifteen minute adventure between the two of you. You fixed up your hair after the wind had messed it up a bit, following Peter inside the restaurant. "Hi, I have a reservation for Parker. two," Peter told the woman at the front, the two of you waiting as she scrolled through her computer to confirm.

"Alright, follow me," the waitress told the two of you, taking two menus off a stand before leading you two outside. "You'd requested a table outside, right?" The waitress asked to confirm, being met with Peter's curt nod as he pulled the chair back for you. You sat down and grabbed your menu, starting to look through the options. You couldn't help but notice just how expensive everything was at this place, your eyes drifting up from the menu up to Peter. "You sure we can afford to eat here?" You asked him quietly, not wanting to get anyone else's attention. "I wouldn't have brought you here if I couldn't afford it. Just order whatever you want without worrying about the price."

The waitress came back with the drinks the two of you had ordered, setting them down before taking out a notepad. "What would the two of you like to order?" she asked, tapping her pen against the notepad. You gave her your order first, Peter speaking up after you did. "Sounds good, I'll be back with your orders," she responded, grabbing the menus from the two of you before retreating back into the restaurant. "So how's it been going with your boss? Is Mr. Simmons still giving you a hard time?" You asked, taking a sip from your drink as you waited for his response. "Somewhat, though it's not really directed towards Peter Parker but Spider-Man instead. Really hates that guy," he responded, going on to ask you about the rehearsal you had lined up.

Peter's eyes turned into a dark shade of red in the blink of a moment, his jaw clenching tightly. It was hard to comprehend how'd he just gone from having a conversation to going into this sort of.. metamorphosis. He'd transformed into something completely foreign to you in just the span of a couple seconds, the moonlight behind the two of you only making seem to process speed up even faster. His face was now covered up in fur, fangs poking out of his mouth, and his eyes had multiplied by four. He blinked a couple times, like he wasn't sure if this was a dream or it was happening in actuality. You reached over to touch him, only to get rejected before your hand even reached him. "No, don't touch me. I'm a monster," he mumbled, his fangs obstructing most of his mouth.

Despite his current state, you could feel the embarrassment radiating off his body as he flipped the table over in a frenzy to walk away. You left behind money for the two drinks and a tip before the waitress got a chance to come back. "Sorry about the table!" You called out before taking off running in the general direction Peter had taken in. He'd managed to get away in the time you'd done the task, leaving you to look around in a frenzy for him. You approached him slowly once noticing him in an alleyway, the way that one would to a stray dog. You bent down to his level, taking his now furry hand into your own.

"Hey, it's okay. There's nothing to be embarrassed about. You're not a monster," you spoke quietly, wanting to give him some reassurance about the situation. "I'm sorry I ruined the dinner, I should've known but I've been so stressed out and caught up with all these things that I forgot," he spoke up, his voice coming out a bit garbled from the elongated fangs. "It's just a dinner, we can make it up. Come on, let's go home and wait for this to wear off," you told him, getting up and extending your hand to help him. He seemed to be doing better this time around, grabbing your hand as he got up from the dirty floor. The discarded dinner was the last thing on your mind at the moment, all you cared about was getting Peter somewhere he felt comfortable being.

The two of you took an alternative way home to avoid attracting anyone's attention, the way back home silent apart from a couple crickets chirping in the background. "So.. how long has this been going on?" You asked him after a while, wanting to understand more about his situation. "It's been going on since the symbiote morphed with me, usually I am aware of the calendar of when the symptoms come back. But I've been busy working extra shifts to take you out to dinner," he responded after a couple seconds, making you feel slightly guilty for how hard he's been pushing himself. "I'll get a job if it doesn't work out this time," you promised him, being met with eight eyes in response.

"You're not gonna do that, you're not gonna give up on what you want," he whispered, making you feel comfortable despite the state he was in. All the initial jealousy that you felt towards him faded away at seeing what he truly dealt with as Spider-Man, that he was much more miserable than he liked to portray. "Is there anything I can do to make this process easier for you?" You asked him, handing him a bottle of water from the fridge. "It doesn't hurt or anything, all there is to wait it out. I am a bit hungry though," he responded, almost sounding a bit guilty that he was burdening you with the mess. "I'll make you something, just sit there a sec."

You walked into the kitchen and put the skills that you'd attained working at the diner, making him a grilled chicken sandwich with a couple of fries. You set down the plate for him, sitting down on the opposite side. An idea occurred to you in that moment, grabbing a candle that you'd bought earlier this month during a sale and lighting it up between the two of you. "It's not a fancy dinner, but it'll do for now," you spoke up when he looked up from his plate, taking a bite out of your sandwich. "Thank you. for being understanding about all this. I know it's not everyday that you see your boyfriend turn into a man-spider."

"Well it's a nice change from Spider-Man," you responded light-heartedly as you dipped your fries into ketchup. The dinner between the two of you was nicer that you could've imagined, despite the fact that it didn't end the way you thought it would've. You stayed by his side throughout the whole process, watching intently just in case he had the urge to go outside or anything. he held you in his embrace, the fur covering his body adding to his body warmth as he made you comfortable. "It's almost Harry's anniversary," he spoke up after a while, his voice sounding somber. "We'll go out to the cemetery and put some roses down. Just worry about yourself right now," you told him, your hand intertwined with his. "I love you. I'm sorry I don't tell you often."

"I know. Your actions speak louder than you do," you told him, slowly starting to doze off just from how comfortable and at peace you were in that moment. Peter stayed quiet after you said that, his hand gently tracing up and down your arm as the two of you slowly started to grow more sleepy. "I love you too, by the way. I never tell you that enough and I'm sorry for the way that I act towards you," you told him, wanting to convey just how much you cared about him in this moment given how vulnerable he was. "I know, don't worry. Your actions are pretty loud too."

#moon-rivr #peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fic #tobey maguire #spiderman #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman fic #mary jane watson #peter x mary jane #peter x mj #tobey maguire spiderman #peter parker fluff #spiderman fluff

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ofstormsandfire · 4 months

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okay so the people have spoken and they wanted me to talk about fic updates on here so. don't threaten me with a good time or anything!

coming to you live (or live-ish, nanowrimo and the end of the semester kind of kicked both of our asses) from yours truly as well as my friend @illusion-of-death is a fun little AU of breath of the wild, where...

well, okay.

you like dungeons & dragons?

you like modern AUs? (especially modern AUs where nonhuman characters remain nonhuman)

you like university AUs? (or just, school shenanigans in general)

you like gay shit? (though really, that's something of a given with me.)

consider reading Carry Me From These Walls, where Cym and I went slightly apeshit and are gleefully continuing to do so. years ago, Link and Zelda were in a D&D campaign with their friends, run by Zelda's mom, which ended in tragedy. years later, their paths cross again as they coincidentally happen to be attending the same college, the University of Hyrule, and a new campaign begins...

...but there might be something going on outside the campaign, something that may very well be the reason why the last campaign ended the way it did. it's probably fine, though. right? right.

we put up the latest chapter, Chapter 26, this morning. it's a fun one. the Second Chancers (for every D&D party must have a silly name) might even make it up to that Divine Beast on their own.

man that was fun. I really should do this more often lol

#fanfic be upon ye #hopeposting #carry me from these walls #my writing #friend writing #loz #botw

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animatorweirdo · 2 years

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The hawk’s fading song

(This idea has been spending time in the drafts, so it’s time I grab it from the darkness and bring it to the light. This is a chapter for a new series, which will not be continued til I finish my current one, so enjoy,)

(This is from Maedhros’s view, so you don’t get confused)

Pilot chapter

Warnings; Growing friendship, treachery, war, mentions of death, angst and after thoughts.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- When he first laid his eyes upon you, you somehow felt different from your house and the Easterling kin. You belonged to the house of Ulfang. However, unlike your father and brothers, who had nothing but pride and arrogance. You were quiet and more refined. You didn’t speak unless spoken to, and your family didn’t include you much as they swore loyalty to his house.

Maedhros first thought you were shy since you were the youngest of the family, but that thought soon vanished when he saw you walk around Himring with glee and curiosity to see everything his people had to offer.

You looked carefree and cheerful, like a child discovering the world. It was a surprise to him because you looked happier going on your own than staying with your kindred. His thoughts about your kin disappeared as he couldn't help but observe you more.

It felt refreshing because, in his mind, you were a pure soul, and watching you interact with his people made him long for the peace and unity his people once had with the world, long before Morgoth and the crimes his family committed for the sake of the oath.

Watching you grew his curiosity, so Maedhros decided that he wanted to try speaking with you. It had barely anything to do with his alliance with your people. Your cheerful and free nature was somewhat compelling, pulling him to you. He watched from the side as you climbed the stairs to his walls and whistled to summon a hawk. He was surprised, and his curiosity grew only higher.

Maedhros knew your people used trained hawks to deliver letters and help scout the lands, but watching you pet the bird with a smile was enough to make him approach you.

You were surprised to see him but remained respectful and bowed your head toward him. You almost turned back into your quiet self like in the court, so Maedhros managed to ease up the air, and the conversations flowed like a calm river.

He learned a lot about you and your kin, and it felt refreshing to talk about something than politics or his brother’s shenanigans. You even allowed him to pet your feathery companion, who happily accepted the gentle head pats.

You claimed to be an oddball of the family. You have little interest in politics, so you remain quiet but enjoy going to see new things and people. Your father has expectations for you, but you rebel a little, learning the way of the sword and riding around upon a horse. You just want to see the world around you more than many other women and maidens who prefer to stay home and do embroidery and house chores.

Maedhros enjoyed your little statements because you reminded him of his half-cousin, Aredhel. You two would most likely get along. Even though; you would most likely end up traumatized since everyone from his family tree tends to be wild and rough. You might be too innocent and soft to handle any of that.

He started seeing you around. You two were busy with your people and duties, but he took the chance whenever you got some privacy and an opportunity for a chat. It was nothing personal like some would have imagined, seeing him talk to an edain in private.

You two exchanged stories, and he had a chance to learn a lot about humans, and the difference between the culture between them and his kin was kind of shocking. He never understood one of his cousins, Finrod’s, fascination with humans before, but now he knew, thanks to you.

Maedhros enjoyed talking with you, and it was a pity he couldn't chat more with you when your people settled down someplace far away from Himring, so he took his chances to talk with you whenever your family visited for a political meeting.

You often exchange well wishes, but sometimes you share family drama that happens once in a while. Maedhros sometimes share the family drama of his own and teach you a thing or two about the Eldar and speaks about Valinor and its wonders.

You always had that look of wonder whenever he spoke about his former home. He kind of grew to adore it because it reminded him there were still good things in this dark world filled with darkness and wars.

However, things soon started to go wrong.

He should have noticed the signs early. That there was something wrong with your people, that they were hiding something.

One day, during one of your meetings when you two stop to talk about things. Maedhros was telling about the valars and Morgoth. You asked what the black foe was like out of curiosity, but when he described the dark valar to you. You froze.

You didn’t say anything and seemed to be in deep thought, but then he noticed how your hands began shaking. He got concerned, so he tried to ask if you were feeling unwell. You claimed to be fine, but you began acting strange, making his concerns worse, especially when you seemed to be avoiding the truth.

He couldn't inquire more about your strange behavior after you left and suddenly stopped visiting. He heard nothing about you for months. It made him concerned because it seemed you had simply vanished from the face of the earth. After some time, though. He concluded you were busy with your life and tried to move on with life.

He should have taken that as a warning sign.

Weeks before the plan to finally assault the iron fortress with the union, he received strange letters. No one managed to figure out who sent them, and they were strangely crypted, like the mysterious sender didn’t want anyone else to read them.

Maedhros did not understand them at first but slowly picked up the pieces and put together what the mysterious sender wanted him to know. They told him of plans and described a dark man with promises of wealth and lands.

The letters were confusing, but he became suspicious because the letters described people of the eastern lands ready to fight for the dark and oppress the light. It heavily describes the Easterlings and that they might be in league with Morgoth.

He was concerned. However, his brothers didn’t catch on to the message and told him to brush them off because they had the forces to overthrow Morgoth, and the plan had already set its course. They couldn't back down now. They also thought the letters might be coming from a pretender and a spy.

Maedhros shouldn't have ignored the letters as they proved to be warnings.

Right after, everything started to look up for them on the battlefield. The Easterlings turned their backs on them and started killing his people. Maedhros was aware it might happen, yet he ignored the warnings and couldn't do anything to stop the tide of the battle.

He and his brothers managed to slay Ulfang and his traitorous sons, but it was already too late, and they couldn't do anything but retreat.

Hundreds dead, lands lost, and worst of all, Fingon had been killed. They couldn't retrieve much from his mangled body except the bloodied blue cloak.

They had suffered a loss worse than in the battle of the sudden flames.

Maedhros was careless. Too desperate to overthrow Morgoth and finally take back the silmarils from the iron crown.

He and his kin suffered a bitter defeat, and no doubt the black enemy laughed at their misfortune. Easterlings were out of control and taking everything they wanted from the innocent people, and there was nothing he could do except purge them from his lands.

Maedhros went through all the letters, and just as he thought. The hints and signs were all there, and yet, in his incompetence, he did not heed them. And it cost the lives of those who fought for him and the life of his dearest friend. He had failed.

One question remained, what happened to you?

He couldn't honestly care, but he also couldn't help but wonder what became of you. Your reaction to Morgoth was the first sign, then you just vanished. You were not there to fight by your family’s side, so your fate remained unknown.

Did you side with your family on the betrayal? Did you become the leader of your people after your father and brothers died? What were you currently thinking? Did you regret any of it?

Maedhros tried to stop thinking and feeling hurt over the betrayal. He hated the feeling because it made him think about all those times sneaking away to talk and spend time away from the politics and the drama of families with you. Did any of it matter to you, or was it just another farce to gain his trust?

Whatever it was, it didn’t matter anymore. The damage has already been done, and you were just another human from a group of traitors.

#maedhros x reader #maedhros #silmarillion #silmarillion x reader #silm fic #middle earth x reader #easterling reader #maedhros x human reader #human reader #The battle of the unnumbered tears #tolkien #noldor #silmarillion fanfiction #The hawk's fading song #series

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narcoticwriter · 1 year

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Spin the Wheel & Get Some Crack Pairs!

@eujean

I'm bored, so I did this. Again. Includes all playable characters plus Al Haitham, Kaveh, Dehya, Mika, and Paimon.

Using '&' because whatever it's up to the interpretation of the viewer. Some will be longer than others because eh.

Arataki Itto & Sangonomiya Kokomi

PFFT LMAO- He is absolutely not on her level and her social battery would be gone within thirty minutes. Unless they get along, then maybe it would go up.

This dynamic is as 50/50 as a coin toss and I'm here for it.

Nahida & Kuki Shinobu

This would be nice, actually. I can see Nahida being able to destress her a bit and Shinobu would also take care of her. Funny shenanigans in the beginning due to Nahida's looks and mannerisms would be fluffy and quite entertaining.

Solid dynamic.

Yun Jin & Yoimiya

Awww this would be nice to see. Y'all, if you didn't see Yun Jin during Lantern Rite looking at the fire works, you need to watch the video because she would totally do the same with Yoimiya's. They would talk and talk and Yoimiya would make her feel so welcome.

Actually one of her voicelines about Kazuha is like 'people who talk about poetic stuff have great stories and are trying to hide certain things' and Yun Jin absolutely does speak in that way sometimes so her letting down her walls and getting the truth would also be really good.

This would never happen, but it's nice to think about.

Nilou & Kujou Sara

. . . oooh. Oh this could be good. I haven't watched Nilou's story quest yet, but from what I hear, she's extremely intertwined with the community at large. She has a healthy level of dependency on people that is communal and is also quite interpersonally connected.

This contrasts with Sara's solitude and the distance she places on herself from others and any idea of a close relationship. She cares about them and treats them fairly, but she's not all that enthusiastic about the idea of knowing them personally.

In short, I'd pay to see what happens next.

Fischl & Kamisato Ayato

Oh, fuck me, I'm laughing out loud at this.

Instant crackery. Bonus if Ayato tries to cook Oz.

Lisa & Thoma

It's giving honest and loving caretaker and terminally ill charge getting close to death's door in a specific scenario that belongs to a specific niche of content.

Outside of this convoluted take of mine, it'd be very wholesome and very much two care-giving figures taking care of their respective responsibilities AKA the Kamisato siblings and Mondstadt in general.

It makes me feel comfortable and tended to.

Dehya & Yanfei

Dori can absolutely afford Yanfei's egregious prices in the case that Dehya unintentionally busts some heads she ought to have not had in an intense moment or two.

Or Yanfei hires her as a bodyguard while she goes through Sumeru as the Akademiya have a vested interest in her 'disappearing' as they know they cannot win against her as she's helping her client there sue for fraud and memory theft that was totally greenlit by some figureheads in the Akademiya.

In summary: Better Call Saul, but for Genshin Impact.

Rosaria & Yae Miko

. . . would Rosaria be able to not try to kill her over how absolutely suspicious she is? Would she run and hide instead? Could she even do that?

It would be funny up until Yae Miko got drunk in Angel's Share in Rosaria's presence. Would pay to find out if there were casualties.

Mika & Eula

THE WHEEL HAS SPOKEN. HOYOVERSE SHALL PROVIDE.

No but seriously, Eula being canonically terrible with directions and Mika canonically being her cartographer is just peak crack as the potential for clownery is astronomical.

Bonus if some of that confidence rubs off on the kid and Eula can have a proud parent moment for herself. She deserves it.

Bennett & Collei

(cue a whole bunch of awws and coos)

Bennett gets lost and Collei finds him and they go through the forest together with all the hijinks you'd expect. Collei gets another friend and Bennett gets another friend. Everyone wins.

B-but his bad luck- SHUT UP THEY'RE FRIENDS NOW.

Kaedehara Kazuha & Tartaglia

Wow. I don't know what to think about this, to be honest. They wouldn't interact all the time, as Kazuha is hardly sedentary in any way, but every time they do happen to meet, maybe they spar before catching up.

I feel like Kazuha's demeanor would put Childe at ease and on edge at the same time, but Childe also wants to trust him and to be trusting. This is a good thing as Kazuha is very honest and upright despite his initially flowery words.

They part ways with lighter hearts than before, that's for sure.

Ganyu & Barbara

It would have to be through letters because what time do they have to leave their jobs and self-imposed obligations? They'd be very nice and polite to each other but other than that? Nothing much, really.

Lukewarm.

Beidou & Zhongli

I honestly choked when I saw the wheel do this shit to me and I feel like I've expounded on it more than enough on my harem blog, but I will say this:

Beidou will not make the mistake of going shopping with him twice.

Biased as hell, but I would love to see them interact in canon.

Dori & Sayu

Dori would be pretty surprised when Sayu dropped the mora for the price of a high-quality comforter to sleep in. She almost threw in a free pillow out of shock. Almost.

It would happen once, but not ever again.

Faruzan & Chongyun

These two are in completely different fields and lives. Their personalities are so obtuse that it's impossible to see them interact. No one has ever considered these two before. Not even me.

Which is precisely why they would bond over the unfair circumstances that life has thrown against them that were completely beyond their control.

Give us that 300K slow burn complete strangers to comrades fanfic. You know who you are.

And now, for the grand finale . . . spinning the wheel three times each for this one.

Hu Tao & Wanderer

. . .

I don't know what this dynamic would be, but sign me the fuck up.

#genshin crack #genshin headcanons #genshin impact #narky thinks #going ham

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rainbowdaisy13 · 11 months

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I've lost all faith in all Swifties and Gaylors outside of this small Kaylor korner on Tumblr, you guys seem like the only people who actually care about acknowledging that Taylor hangs out with other people who've displayed bigoted and/or predatory behavior outside of Ratty.

Trying to tell Taylor fans outside this corner of the fandom including most Gaylors that XYZ friend of Taylor's has done racist things in the past or XYZ friend of Taylor has pedophilia allegations against them is like yelling at a brick wall at best and something that'll get you constantly harassed and maybe even doxxed at worst.

It really feels like you guys are the only ones who care about acknowledging all of the bad shit and not just the bad shit Ratty has done and telling people who are rightfully upset about everything that sucks and not just Ratty that we're valid for being upset.

You guys are the only people I feel comfortable saying as someone who had CSA attempted against me that I felt triggered when Taylor worked on music with Urie and feel trigged whenever Taylor works on music with Kravitz due to the various abuse allegations against Urie and Kravitz openly admitting to being sexually attracted to minors in an interview. All the Taylor fans I've tried to talk about being upset about this have ignored it so they could pretend Taylor doesn't make problematic choices at best and condoned it because they find them attractive at worst.

At least you guys aren't the type of people that would condone any of this awfulness just because you want to pretend Taylor doesn't make a lot of problematic choices and hangs with a lot of problematic people or because you guys find the bigots or predators that hang out with Taylor hot, I really appreciate it but otherwise this whole fandom sucks so bad that I don't see how any of it is redeemable and the reaction to the recent shenanigans Taylor has pulled just solidified this to me 💀

Thank you for sharing this. I’m sorry for your experiences and how Taylor’s actions and associations bring those feelings back up. I do not identify as a Swifitie because on the whole they are the exact opposite of people I fuck with. I’ve only ever felt a connection to the people in this corner of the fandom as well because truly the people I’ve interacted with here are the smartest, most well spoken and thoughtful of the fandom. The level of depth they can go into investigating all the clues matches the level of thoughtfulness and ability to critically think about Taylor as an artist, brand, and human

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elenothar · 2 years

Text

WIP word search

Tagged by @thelaithlyworm (*waves*) for FLUFF, NIGHT, and EXONERATE. Off the top of my head, I suspect I may only have one of these...

After some thorough checking, I indeed don’t have FLUFF or EXONERATE. Several options for NIGHT though, and I’m choosing the Guardian singing AU:

Shen Wei lives in a modestly-sized apartment near the university, having moved out of university-provided accommodation due to “noise”. What exactly that means Zhao Yunlan isn’t sure, but he has visions of thin walls and the particular kinds of sounds people who aren’t social hermits might produce keeping Shen Wei up at night.

Because this one only had one result, I’m adding @forerussake‘s (*more waving*) words I was tagged with to the same post: bright, heart, hurt

BRIGHT, actually in the opening paragraph of a languishing LTR tomb shenanigans fic:

It really wasn’t his fault this time. Wu Xie had still been at least a meter away from the interesting-looking artefact in a little nook off to the side of the burial chamber when a bright flash of light had engulfed him, a high-pitched whistling noise drowning out Pangzi’s startled shout.

Wu Xie coughed – more out of habitual reflex than any real reason to clear his throat – and blinked against the afterimages seared onto his eyelids.

“ – zhen, I swear to the heavens that if you touch one more – ”

“I didn’t touch it!” Wu Xie yelped, hands busily rubbing at his eyes, but there was still a weird golden sheen in his vision, followed by a deep, powerful tug, like somebody yanking him forwards with a hand clenched around his ribs.

HEART, unsurprisingly, turns up in almost all WIPs, so I had to choose. I went with the fic I’m actively working on at the moment, a very canon divergent Guardian fic that’s entitled ‘hostage shen wei’ in my drafts:

“Professor Zhou,” he says, gesturing towards the chair by the coffee table that already has a gently steaming teapot arrayed on it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Professor Zhou demurs, and probably truthfully so. He wants to learn about dark energy after all, and apparently relations between Haixing and Dixing are still not good enough to easily find answers elsewhere. Perhaps the Professor could be persuaded to tell Shen Wei a little of the current political atmosphere in return – not that he intends to be too forthcoming. There are plenty of reasons to be wary. “What is the appropriate term of address for you?”

He wonders what Professor Zhou was told about his situation.

“Just Shen Wei,” he says quietly. “I have no title.”

None that would concern a Haixingren, anyway, and he has hardly felt like Heipaoshi these last few years. That might still leave Professor Zhou with Shen-xiansheng should he wish for greater formality, but that term didn’t exist ten thousand years ago, and feels very Haixingren to Shen Wei besides.

“Shen Wei, then,” Professor Zhou says, inclining his head slightly, and Shen Wei’s mind blanks.

It hadn’t occurred to him that hearing his name spoken aloud could set a vice squeezing around his heart, but perhaps it should have. This is Kunlun’s name for him, the name Kunlun’s lips had shaped in a loving, reverential manner Shen Wei had never quite understood.

HURT from the singing AU again:

“Don’t mind him,” Zhao Yunlan says, ignoring the string of protesting heys when he continues, “you don’t get to work at the SID if you don’t have a screw loose somewhere. Lin Jing is an inventor – he came up with ear plugs that nullify the effect of Zheng Yi’s powers on the wearer.”

Shen Wei nods his understanding, but makes no move to take the box Lin Jing waves in his direction. “I won’t need them.”

Zhao Yunlan’s eyebrows hike upwards. “It’s not really safe without them. Her powers have a sonic as well as a mind control aspect.”

“Very few powers can hurt me,” Shen Wei says with a gentle smile, as if he isn’t admitting to very unusual invulnerability. “To assess whether I can help her control her power, I need to fully experience it.”

I’m tagging @eirenical, @sasamelons, @the-marron with the words: break, sun, mind

#ask game answers #fanfic #guardian #lost tomb reboot #wips

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sunlian · 1 year

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i haven't even played final fantasy xiv, but i cast brainworms upon ye: ♠ from the nonsexual acts of intimacy thing for zenos and yesui

one thing you can on Iv for; they are always gonna enable murder man shenanigans. Thank u bestie ❤️

(This is in a regency!AU that I am slowly working on akjdhsakj, where Zenos' murder/drama kid ratio is changed from 80/20 to like... 60/40)

------

♠: One character adjusting the other’s jewelry/neck tie/ etc.

"Hmm, I think you have the right idea."

Zenos raises his head at the sudden intrusion; he never had much patience nor inclination for these kinds of events, dances and soirees and the like, and as such, had sequestered himself away in one of the side rooms, at least for the moment. It was a beautiful room, to be fair, filled with paintings and sculptures and other pieces of art. The fact that the room was not really in use for tonight's revelry and politicking meant it was quiet. And it seems he was not the only one who was seeking a relief from the crowded hustle of the evening.

"And what idea would that be?" He asks, a small smile creeping its way onto his face as Yesui Dotharl approaches him. She sits down on the lounge next to him with a sigh, leaning back and looking up at him.

"Getting away from the madness, even if only for a moment," she replies with a slight groan. Zenos hums in agreement; he imagines her status as both the ward of an Ishgardian noble and the Warrior the Light would mean she had to deal with a lot of sycophants, back-handed compliments and who knows what else.

Though, he imagines she is getting more compliments tonight than anything else; her white hair is braided elegantly, leaving plenty free to fall free about her shoulders, and fine golden strands are threaded through the braids. Her dress is pale blue with darker accents, with only the slightest - and most likely bare minimum - amount of frills and frippery, short sleeves stopping at middle of her upper arms, showing off her scales and dark blue skin.

Zenos wonders when he started noticing such things as dresses and hairstyles. It is a relatively recent development.

"What about you? Much the same?" Yesui asks, rolling her neck and shoulders, and he manages to look away before she sees him looking at her so intently. He nods in agreement, choosing now to focus on one of the many paintings displayed on the walls.

"Indeed. I find I can only so much whimpering platitudes before they all blend into an endless droning, a sound not unlike a swarm of gnats."

Yesui quirks one white brow, before breaking into a snicker, then genuine laughter, shoulders shaking as she try to stop herself from laughing harder. The motion makes some of the fine strands in her hair come loose.

"That is such... that's exactly how I'd imagined you'd say that," she says as her laughter quietens down. When Zenos furrows his brow and turns back to her, she holds up her hands, smile wide and sharp, "It's not a complaint! I could benefit by having even half of your skill with the spoken word. It's endearing, too."

Has anything he's ever done ever been referred to as 'endearing?'

Before he can dwell on the thought, the muffled click of shoes on marble reaches them. Yesui frowns, standing up quickly.

"It seems people have noticed at least one of us is missing," she says with a barely concealed grimace, "I should leave, before someone finds me unchaperoned."

"Wait," he says as he reaches out. Yesui seems to freeze in place in a manner Zenos had not come to expect from her. His hands find their way to her hair, gently putting the golden threads back to where they were initially; he finds that they are actually incredibly delicate chains, hardy as they are beautiful.

Yesui's hair is soft, almost impossibly so. Yet another thing about her that he commits to memory.

The moment is perhaps a handful of seconds, not even a full minute, but it feels both like an age and too short, as Yesui's dark eyes stay focused and trained on his face, her mouth tight with... well, he's not actually sure. But, eventually, it does pass, and Zenos pulls his hand away.

"The ornamentation in your hair had become undone; it would not do to return to the ballroom without it fixed."

She stares at him for a while, before breathing out throw her nose, mouth quirking into a smirk.

"Thank you, Your Highness. Now, to return to the swarm of gnats, as you so eloquently put it" she says, amusement dripping from every word, before turning and leaving before he can reply. He hears voices, although they are muffled, about a minute later; no doubt whoever went looking for Yesui, and Yesui herself.

Zenos takes a moment to sit in silence. Perhaps, in a moment, he will rouse himself and return to the floor. And perhaps, when he does, he will get to talk to Yesui again.

Truly, these encounters made even the most stifled of social events worth coming to.

#ask #sphenisciforma #yesui dotharl #brainworm hours #not going in the tag im shy #anyways if ppl dig this i might sit down and actually like. write more of the AU

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isthatmanahimbo · 2 years

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This week we visit a character so near and so dear to this author's heart: Sagara Sanosuke!

Sanosuke is an early-antagonist-turned-deuteragonist in the shounen animanga series Rurouni Kenshin, first published in Shounen Jump in 1994. Set in the Meiji Era in Japan, Sanosuke serves a vital function in the narrative of the story as he provides an oft-overlooked perspective in the infamous Bakumatsu Rebellion as a man of the people. Anti-Shogunate, betrayed by the Imperialist government, Sanosuke is a staunch political radical who spends many of his largest character developmental moments advocating for democracy and for the voice of people who get spoken over most, giving him the role of perpetual underdog.

Though at first glance Sanosuke might not seem special with regard to his bulk, despite his constantly open jacket – he fulfills a very specific role within the fight sequences as tank and bulldozer. Even from the very beginning in his role as a fighter-for-hire under the alias "Zanza", a reference to his frankly absurd zanbatou sword which only he has been seen using due to being ridiculously unwieldy, Sanosuke is constantly pitted against fighters much larger than he is and emerging victorious through sheer grit and physicality. If there is a wall that Sanosuke cannot punch through, give him a pointer and a deadline, and he'll bust through it Kool-Aid Man style before you can forget him. Oh yeah!

Because of the reputation he's garnered as Zanza, and because of his experiences with the Sekihoutai during the war, Sanosuke rarely takes the opportunity to mind his own business if he notices shenanigans afoot on the street. Over and over, we see him disrupt main-character monologues and full-on conversations to correct An Injustice. Indeed, in his very first appearance, he asks a drunk man to meet him outside for causing a fuss in a restaurant, and handily beats ass. He even gets a cool scene where he stops proprietress Tae from stumbling due to the ruckus, in true action hero fashion. Swoon.

Though it is inarguable that his head is full of Justice, there's little else to be said for his intellectual prowess. He does have one or two instances demonstrating his ability to problem solve and figure out patterns, often in times of crisis, his ability to think on his feet and his ability to think are firmly treated as separate entities. He can figure out how to channel shockwaves in the middle of a fistfight, but if you ask him to follow a road going only one direction, he will get lost for an extended period of time and decide that the best solution is to start a fight so that the police can take him to the station of the city he needs to be in. He can trace an opium ring to its source, but when directed by a fighter much more skilled than he to "idk maybe block sometimes?", Sanosuke instead chooses to plow ever-forward, refusing to be slowed down by such things as not-getting-a-concussion or losing-functionality-in-his-arm-forever. What an idiot.

His respect for his female counterparts is notable for the time, as well, in spite of the scoundrel archetype he's been assigned – he does acknowledge when he is out of his depth, and he will advocate for their expertise and protect them with his body in order for them to finish whatever job needs finishing. He knows his role, and he knows that it is to serve – and as a result, he earns, over and over, the respect and admiration of everyone around him. Yes, even people who outwardly display nothing but disdain for him, will nonetheless step aside and trust Sanosuke to handle what Sanosuke do best.

If this author were moronsexual, my shirt would already be off.

Total Himbo Score: 19

#is that man a himbo?#whoa mama! rating: himbo #rurouni kenshin #sagara sanosuke #sanosuke rk

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hollandorks · 2 years

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Chapter 27!!!! Sorry in advance to Shelby bestie's other followers. I'm gonna spam her inbox and then maybe your timelines for good measure.

They were rushing head first into danger with a drug that could make them do anything, armed with nothing but the knowledge of some of the key players, a location, and some gas masks.

As if you haven't rushed head first into danger with less—

She feared for Gotham.

I know I've been saying this for ages, but girlie needs a suit. Get on it, Bruce. It's interesting to see the progression she's made throughout the series though. Like this used to just be for the girls and Batman, but now it's an entire city-wide worry.

I talked before how Reader and Bruce are very similar in that they do things out of love, no matter how misguided. But here, we see a way that the Reader has grown to be a bit more like Bruce even more, which happens when you're interested in someone. Plus, after all she's gone through, it makes sense that she wants to save everyone else the trauma.

Even though she and Bruce had barely spoken for the past several days, she still woke up from nightmares every night and silently crept into his bed to sleep.

You can love someone, be upset with someone, and still have a need to be around them when you're scared. Likewise, you can love someone, be upset with someone, and still want to comfort them.

Man, I love soft Bruce Wayne.

I need me some soft Bruce Wayne in my life.

She was resigned to a life of no sleep after she left. And with Bruce Wayne as reclusive as he was, she would have to accept that she might go long periods of time without knowing he was okay.

Or, you could go to therapy. You know, that's an option. A very recommendable one, at that.

Take the entire family with you, even. Alfred and Bruce.

She snagged the Batmobile keys from the desk right as he reached for them. He sighed. “You can take the motorcycle but I’ll just follow you.” She dangled the keys in front of him. Snatched them back with a grin when he reached for them.

LMAO are you five?????

But also, I love this moment for many reasons. Other than the fact it's super snarky and hilarious, Bruce Wayne's childhood effectively ended when his parents died. I know you and I spoke about love being a healing experience in regards to this fic, and I think this moment really encapsulates that. The Reader is absolutely being a complete immature child for this one tiny second and Bruce is experiencing this childlike moment by participating with the little shenanigan. It's like, before the reader, Bruce's psychology had been on pause since his parents died and, through the reader's many shenanigans, he's able to grow again and move past that wall he's been stuck pushing against for so long.

“Fuck!” Y/n wanted to hit something.

I wonder who else likes hitting things when they're mad. I wonder... who... I am... thinking of...

Certainly not someone whose name sounds like Ruse.

wait though now that I say that, I'm thinking about the fact that Bruce actually lives in a constant ruse. Constantly tricking people to his advantage (most of the time)

“Have you found anything useful, detective?” Bruce’s voice was dangerously calm. She knew what he was thinking, what he would say to her the moment they were alone.

This whole interaction really shows just how much these two balance each other out. When the reader gets super emotional and explodes, Bruce reigns things in and vice versa.

He closed his mouth. “If there is anything I can do to talk you out of it,” he said quietly. “I’ll do it. Anything.”

Anything than confront my feelings and confess my undying love for you. Then, I'll just jump off the roof.

She wanted to dance with Bruce Wayne, just once. Just one dance before shit hit the fan. Before she left Wayne Manor behind.

Gotham: about to fall apart

Reader: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2dzf4T3RbEc

Her outfit was her own armor that night, flimsy as it was.

SEE BRUCE YOU SHOULD HAVE MADE HER A SUIT—

Bruce just doesn't wanna make her a suit in case it upstages him or it distracts him because the reader just looks so delectable in one—get over yourself, Mr. Wayne, pull it together

His eyes roved over her, head to toes and back up again. His mouth parted. His lips formed her name but no sound came out.

am soft.

He was in a carefully tailored tuxedo that hinted at the muscles underneath. His hair was clean and just slightly slicked back. Still slightly messy.

Very hot.

If Gotham's fate didn't rely on the success of these two idiots, maybe they'd actually be able to confess to each other already.

He wet his lips and tried again.

I can't help but notice that Alfred is conveniently missing. Like, he wasn't there to help Bruce with his cufflinks. I love that for him. Very smart Alfred.

See, Alfred doesn't want them to save Gotham either, he just wants them to get together. A man with a goal. I respect that.

“This was my mother’s,” he said as he opened the box. Inside was a delicate pearl necklace. “She said–she said every woman needed a set of pearls.”

BRUCE WAYNE—

*loud, ugly sobbing*

He ignored her and lifted the necklace from the box. Gently brushed her hair out of the way on her neck. She couldn’t hold back the shiver this time. She closed her eyes and imagined his lips touching the same place.

Bruce is—

I'm sorry but my dog chose this exact moment to take my black stiletto heel from my shoe rack and hand it to me. I thought it was appropriate to add that. She's totally not telling me to dress up, get out of the house, and find her a father in the form of one Bruce Wayne

Anyways, Bruce is such a flirt. Even when he's trying not to be. The man gave the woman his credit card to buy a dress, she could have easily bought herself some jewelry too, but instead he's like HERE'S MY DEAD MOTHER'S NECKLACE. Sir, you are not subtle just like my dog.

“We should go,” he said after a moment. As he walked away, she took a split second to collect herself. Her breath was shaky.

The closest Bruce Wayne can get to jumping off a literal building to avoid feelings in this moment is abruptly walking away.

It looked vintage. It suited him, somehow.

Maybe because Bruce, like the car, is frozen back in another time.

"How are you going to fit in that?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

That's one way to comment on his size, I guess—

Ma'am you are not subtle either.

The lie came easily to her tongue. “I’m nervous because I’m not a good dancer.”

OH MY GOD—

JUST TELL THE TRUTH

PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD

For the world's greatest detective, the man is shit at detecting BLATANT LIES.

“Wow,” she said with a laugh. “Finally something Bruce Wayne can’t do.” “I can’t sing either.”

Yeah, you know what else you can't do? Talk about your feelings.

She didn’t miss the way he said we and not I.

Neither did I!

Look at that character development from Bruce Wayne. He is slowly, but surely, becoming less of a lone wolf. If only Alfred were here to photograph this moment. He'd be so proud.

I should note: in case you can't tell, my allergies are making me drowsy, which makes me significantly less serious. It's hard to be serious when you're making faces, trying not to sneeze. I'm gonna keep making an effort though.

My alumni sweater will remind me of the many dollars I spent on my BFA and two minors and push me through this.

Something that I kind of noticed early on that Bruce seems to make bigger steps in character development and healing in comparison to the reader. This does make sense, though, because the reader had an extra struggle of her best friend dying and witnessing crime firsthand for the first time, whereas Bruce had that when he was eight years old. So, really, it took him forever to develop, but in the scope of the story he seems to be progressing faster.

Also, Bruce has had the extra pressure of his character development sometimes literally keeping the reader alive. Like the man has to accept the reader will be involved, otherwise she'll just involve herself without him and she'll be in more danger. So there's that.

The mantle of Batman settled between his shoulders. Tonight, he was only pretending to be Bruce.

Hang on, there's something here I want to comment on but my trains of thought are moving too fast for my allergy-ridden brain—

*cue the jeopardy music*

Firstly, what an amazing line.

Secondly, I think that what's interesting about this line is it frames it as something new. Batman pretending to be Bruce. When, arguably, Bruce's entire struggle is letting go of the Batman mantle and living as the person he is rather than the vigilante. It's the whole reason why he's not telling the reader about his feelings—because he can't, even for a moment, drop Batman.

That being said, it makes sense that the reader does see it as new, because Bruce has always been Bruce with her. It's just that it's only toward her. He's Batman with Alfred. He's Batman with Gordon. So, it's endearing that the reader sees this as something novel simply because its novelty is only applicable to her.

I don't know if that's very coherent, but I'm doing my best

The entryway to the venue was covered in huge gold drapes that hung from the ceiling, most of which was a glass skylight. There were flower arrangements everywhere, and small advertisements for the silent auction in the ballroom before them. Double doors were propped open underneath a huge staircase that curved upwards on either side.

Oh my god. I'm pretty sure if I ever walked into a venue like that, I'd be struck by lightning.

“Me too,” he murmured back. His fingers tightened around hers.

I LOVE THIS.

I love, love, love, loveeee this. This is exactly what I mean. He wouldn't show this level of vulnerability with anybody else except the reader. This is Bruce bleeding through Batman for her. He's nervous too and she is the only one who is ever privy to that information. At least, in a way where Bruce would voluntarily let someone know that information. Alfred is also involuntarily privy to Bruce's feelings.

“You are causing quite the stir. I knew the moment you arrived from the absolutely frantic screams from outside. It was like the Beatles had come to America again.”

Thank you, Shelby, because not only are you very good at humanizing Bruce, but this makes Alfred so human too. Sometimes, I've noticed, it can be pretty easy to be swept away by the role Alfred plays and forget that he's a person with his own experiences. So, Alfred becomes a plot device and not a proper human character. But you do so well at side-stepping that and making him human.

He seemed distracted and only put two strawberries on his plate as he kept peering around the room.

lol because that's totally not suspicious

Good on the reader, making him look normal by filling his plate.

“Of course you didn’t. Just think about how embarrassing it’d be if you passed out in the middle of dancing with me,” she said with a grin. “Or if you passed out–later.” Fighting, she meant. As Batman.

I love that you needed to clarify what later meant. It's hilarious.

She almost fainted when he absently licked a bit of juice off of one long finger. Fuck.

BRUCE WAYNE WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU

OUTRIGHT FLIRTING LIKE THAT

What would the people say? It's obscene!

(I'm kidding, in case you couldn't tell)

She let out a little sigh of pleasure as she ate. Bruce gave her a sharp look.

HEY!

You don't get to give the reader shit for sighing when you seductively licked your finger after eating a strawberry! She didn't give you shit for it, so return the favor, would you? How rude!

The flames from the candles softened the angles of his jaw and cheekbones.

The same way love softened his hard exterior and/or made it harder

Excuse me, I'll let myself out—

“And…I wanted to say–whatever I’ve done–I’m sorry.” He tightened his hold on her, inadvertently causing her to stumble even closer.

It makes me so soft how he tightens his grip on her because he's afraid of losing her. He does it in so many ways, figuratively speaking, but seeing it in literal form just makes me soft.

Bruce crushed her to his chest in one abrupt movement that stole what was left of her breath. Both of his hands slid up her bare back. She shuddered at the touch. Trails of fire blazed up her spine where he’d touched her. “No,” he said into her hair. “That’s not–I didn’t–” He made the same frustrated noise again. “It’s okay,” she said. “Don’t feel guilty. I know I came in and messed up your whole life and–” Bruce’s arms tightened around her even more. She barely noticed that the song had ended. “No,” he said again. “I didn’t mean it like that. At all. I fucked up saying that. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

SHELBY—

I'm so soft!!!!!!!!!

Look at this!!!!!

This whole interaction is just so adorable and shows the thing I was talking about! Bruce is Bruce around the reader. This is probably the only time he's ever willingly hugged someone, let alone initiated a hug, since his parents died. And of course, it's with the reader, who he loved more than anybody else in the entire world. I love that. Where are my tissues tell me I didn't run out of them because of my allergies

She sure wished Mayor Williams and his ilk would get on with threatening Gotham, because she needed Bruce to finish this conversation.

SHUT UP

Relish in the fact he started a conversation!! Stay in the moment! It's a nice moment! Don't ruin it!

GOD, these two idiots and their incessant need to run away from scary feelings—JUST TALK—

Sorry, sorry, I'll calm down. It's just the allergies.

His tone was almost…regretful.

Me too, Alfred.

No, she wanted to say. Let’s go home. Let’s forget Gotham and go home

Me too, reader.

“I have no idea what you could say to make me pissed off like this,” she told him in an angry voice. “But hopefully no one questions it too much.” He opened his mouth to say something but she hauled back and slapped him hard against the face. She winced internally. She probably should have pulled back a little.

Okay, this makes more sense toward the second read through, because I misunderstood that she was just talking to him privately. I thought that she yelled out "I have no idea what you could say to make me pissed off like this" the first time I read it and it made me tumble over with laughter because that's one way to lie without lying.

But now it makes me laugh for a completely different reason because Bruce was going to say something like—

I wanna know what he was gonna say! Was he gonna be like "what do you mean"? Was he gonna be confused? Was he gonna try and say something to make her upset? Like, just to go along with the show? I wanna know!

Poor Bruce was probably so confused, but he deserves it because he's been so silly this entire fic with his desperate avoidance of feelings

“So let me hold you.” “I’ll see you back at home, you asshole,”

I noticed this with the first song, but I love how you make the songs essentially say what the words they actually want to say. Like it's been very clear that Bruce wanted the reader to Stay and it's been very clear that the last thing the reader wanted to do is slap Bruce and tell him to leave when she wants to be around him the entire time and talk to him.

“Well, it was very convincing,” Alfred said. She could hear the laughter in his voice.

ALFRED—

Alfred cracks me up.

Then a thought came to her. Might as well have some fun on the way to saving Gotham. “He’s lucky he’s huge, if you know what I mean.” There was a choking noise in her ear.

THIS ALSO CRACKED ME UP

Bruce has been tortured every single time he wears an earpiece and the Reader's around. First, he's on the motorcycle and gets jumpscared and now this.

That being said, I assume it was Bruce who choked and not Alfred, who was likely trying to contain his laughter.

Alfred was laughing softly.

YES I WAS RIGHT!

She sucked in a breath and whirled away from him, only to come face to face with the mayor and two members of his security detail.

I just wanna know what went through the reader's mind when she decided that the best course of action would be to walk away like perhaps he wouldn't pursue her? It's hilarious.

“Me,” she said, and then she punched him in the face.

AS! YOU! SHOULD!

Shelby, this must be the most hilarious "shit's about to go down" moment in the history of ever. I love it so much.

I love how you've contrasted the bad with the good throughout this entire fic. With every bad moment is a good one and vice versa. Good, be it romantic or comedic. I love it and I love you.

⌨

P.S. Another hint is that I was the only one using a wheelchair during the salute of my particular school. And, to find my tumblr, you just have to go through my IG highlights. It's there. It used to be my old username. And if you find out who i am, you can certainly find my instagram and therefore my tumblr.

But honestly if you find out who I am we can cut out those two extra steps lol You'd still have figured me out

Anyways, I'm gonna write my Ch. 28 review in a second. I think I just need something to wake me up a little bit first.

OKAY YES I'M READY FOR THIS. Sorry to everyone who follows me because I'm probably going to be long winded on all of these catch-up reviews whoops 😅

No comment on the very first part. Just no comment. 👀

Yes exactly re: her being like Bruce! And soft Bruce Wayne. I love him too.

These characters really really need therapy. I might just have to write it into the sequel because damn. They need it.

Ugh wow okay you pointing out the childlike behavior and it being healing for Bruce etc! I didn't even know I was doing that tbh! But yes, I was going for (at least) a few moments where Bruce just gets to be silly with her. Even if it's mostly just her being silly. Wow my subconscious is so smart. Good job me 😂 (I'm kidding, but I did want this to be about Bruce learning to heal through love etc, even if I didn't set out do it in this particular way!)

Ruse=Bruce. Yes. Of course. His parents set him up for this didn't they....

Bruce did jump off the roof once to avoid confrontation so, you know....plausible.

Idk what I expected with that youtube link but that wasn't it😂 Perfect.

He definitely would be distracted by her in a suit

Literally the whole inner monologue of the reader this chapter is like maybe we should say fuck Gotham and just....fuck it out. And she was right.

Alfred too is like, fuck Gotham, you two should fuck it out. (See the ch 30 scene where Bruce admits to buying condoms before the gala)

Your dog is trying to be your wingman/ woman/ wingdog? Love that for her. It's like she knew this was about the gala scene

I can't even comment on all of your little comments because they are 1) so fucking funny but 2) so fucking accurate

That's one way to comment on his size RIP 💀

Allergies are the worst and I love that it's making you be less serious even though you're suffering!

The sweater comment 💀 college in a nutshell!

I think Bruce needs a different type of healing though because he hasn't opened himself up in so long. Seems faster in this because we're only getting a snapshot of his trauma--whereas, like you said, the reader is currently experiencing trauma, and also lost her mom not too long before. So she's had less grieving time with all of this! But, true, Bruce kind of is backed into a corner and has to be the Smart One and The Adult because the reader is kind of a chaotic dumbass and forces him to be 😂

Yes yes yes to all that re: Batman and Bruce! I think instead of one being the alter ego, he's both, but sometimes he is one pretending to be the other! Glad you caught that in this moment! He's kept them very separate from the reader but now he 1) doesn't want to pretend as much but also 2) is forced to press the two sides of himself into one man just simply because of the events taking place. He's letting himself be comfortable with her with both parts of himself. You're so right.

"Bruce bleeding through Batman for her" yes exactly 🥺

Also thank you about Alfred 🥺 I try very hard to humanize him! I also think the movie does a good job with this and wanted to include some of that dynamic. Like, we first see Alfred in his role (solving riddles with Bruce, telling him to shower, keeping things running with Wayne Enterprises but also keeping Bruce running). But after the Riddler's attack, Alfred in the hospital is so humanized. He has his own trauma over the Waynes' deaths, his own baggage, and they did such a good job incorporating his very human emotions and experiences in this part of the film. Obviously, I was very inspired by this and fell in love with this Alfred so....here's what we ended up with 😅

The reader is totally not thinking about fueling up for sex. Nope. That's not on her mind at all. She 100% only means that he might need energy to fight as Batman later and that's it. (She's lying to herself)

Poor Bruce licking his finger is like "why is she looking at me like that am I gross do I have something on my face oh god she's embarrassed of me I forgot all of the manners Alfred taught me" while the reader is imagining everything that finger could be doing if you know what I mean

You're truly killing me with all these comments I love it 💀 😂

Thank you I love that interaction with them too 🥺 It also made me soft.

Poor reader just wants the conversation over so she can find out if Bruce wants to get it on with her or not

Also yeah no she was talking privately to him 😂 Would've been hilarious the other way too though.

I was really nervous with the song lyrics and I may or may not have like read the fic aloud listening to tje songs to make the timing match up with everything 😅😅😅

Alfred in this chapter....stealing the show. As usual 😂

Bruce is rethinking ever letting her have an earpiece again 😂 Yes Bruce choked because he was about to die of embarrassment, Alfred was keeping his mouth shut so he didn't let Bruce know how fucking hilarious he found it 😂

She was definitely hoping he didn't see and or recognize her 😂 She's kinda dumb but I love her!

And thank you 🥺 I constantly know how much angst I'm putting readers through and try really hard to balance it all out 😂

Okay. Okay. Is your particular school the one Adam Sandler spoke at? I still have no idea how to find you in particular through that because I am not a good internet sleuth 😂 Let me just say, it's good that I've been with my husband so long because I would never be able to properly social media stalk a man I was dating and would probably end up with either a dickhead or a psycho or both 😂

This is so much fun. I'm so excited you're catching up on all the chapters and I don't even feel that bad for spamming everyone!

#asks #anon #motn spoilers #my bestie ⌨️#⌨️ anon #⌨️

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odoraful · 2 months

Text

Are there other matters?

blade piques your auntie's interest when you visit her shop to run some errands.

content: blade & reader are friends (they secretly like each other); a little humorous :) word count: 723 a/n: *drops my first hsr fic and runs away* i might write a part 2 resolving the shenanigans that occur here if there's enough interest!

Blade had barely spoken a word this entire outing. Not that it was unusual for him, however, his wordless, watchful demeanour made every passer-by shrink away. It appeared to others that he was less of your friend and more of a guard dog. Despite the names of the Stellaron Hunters being cleared, just the sight of him with his stony stare was of automatic suspicion among the Xianzhou Loufu.

He folded his arms and leaned against the side of the building, watching you converse warmly with a merchant selling metal working supplies.

“An apprentice in the Artisanship Commission?” The merchant said in awe. “I remember when you were-” she placed a hand to the side of her hip, her voice dripping with fondness “-this big and dreaming about joining the commission, and look at you now!”

Out of the corner of his eye, Blade saw the merchant lift a hand and ruffle your hair. Despite the slight resigned look on your face as you leaned into the touch, you still laughed. To see someone as capable as you be treated like a child was an intriguing sight. His gaze travelled from your upturned lips to your hand smoothing out your tousled hair.

“Thank you, auntie. Expect me to visit you a lot more often nowadays.”

She tsked and squeezed your cheek. “Ai-yah, you should already be visiting me more.”

You noticeably grew bashful at her words. Luckily, your auntie’s disapproval vanished quickly. “Now you just hold tight, I know exactly what your junior apprentices need.” She crouched out of sight below the countertop and rummaged through the storage, the sound of tools clinked against each other.

You turned towards Blade and gave a thumbs up with both hands. He acknowledged you with a single nod. The grin on your face was too bright, almost blinding. You turned back to speak with the merchant.

Blade stared at the back of your head. Your smile was gone too soon.

Despising the ache he felt, he shook his head, keeping those strange, simmering feelings within him at bay.

“Boyfriend! Are you going to help carry this?” The merchant’s voice pierced through his musings.

Boyfriend...?

There was the tiniest waver in Blade's blank expression. He saw her gesture towards a wooden storage box on the counter, one hand on her hip.

You collapsed onto the counter. “Aeons, you don’t have to yell out like that!” Your hands covered your reddening face. “And he’s not my boyfriend.”

No matter how well one may hide it, family members had a heightened sense for when young people were in love. Highly amused by your reaction, your auntie pushed a little more.

“You know he’s watching you as if I’m going to steal you away or something.” She leaned in closer and mock whispered, “Is he one of these crazy possessive types?”

“Auntie!” Your eyes turned into saucers in shock. “He’s not.”

She lifted both her hands with a cheeky, knowing grin, as if to say ‘you don’t have to tell me, I already know.’

Blade was surprised at the familiarity of the look. It was one he often saw on Kafka, with her naturally sassy countenance. She had that exact knowing smile when she had asked him about the details of his sudden excursion during his downtime today. He angled himself off the wall to walk to your side.

“At least get to know his name, it’s Blade.” You said, firmly.

“Ohh Blade, huh?” The merchant’s critical eyes trailed up and down, assessing the man who had wooed her niece. “Hm…a tough guy name. What do you do?”

“You are referring to my occupation?” Blade asked.

Your auntie wasn’t expecting such a deep, gravelly voice that it made her physically jump. You scrambled to pick up the wooden box, heaving it into your arms. Blade head jerked to your movements in alarm. You tried to back away at a fast enough pace that etiquette would allow when exiting a conversation.

“Thanks auntie, but we really need to go now. Love you!” You frantically gestured at Blade to follow.

Your auntie bellowed with laughter. “Alright then, make sure you visit me again soon! You too Mr Blade!” She called out as you scurried across the market square. A puzzled Blade followed beside you, attempting to take the heavy box from your hands.

#✏️〰odorawrites #i got back into hsr at the start of this year and blade was my first limited 5 star character muahah #honkai star rail #hsr #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #blade x reader #blade x y/n #blade x you #blade #hsr blade #blade hsr #hsr blade x reader #hsr blade x you

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twxins · 7 months

Text

🍊 🍋 THE NOTORIOUS TWINS 🍋 🍊

‘Everyone knows they’re twins’, people say. That is until they see them standing next to each other in person, and then they start to ask questions...

But whether people believe their brotherhood to be blood-bound or not is irrelevant to them. They share a birthday, they share a blood type, and they share a bond. An utterly unbreakable bond. All their lives, the pair have not been separated by more than a mile. Biological or not (✨that is the mystery✨), they are twins through and through.

Although, like all brothers, they certainly do their fair share of bickering!

Growing up in the borough of Newham in a working-class area of London, it didn't take much for the twins to fall in with dodgy crowds. And in conjunction with circumstantial exposure to London's infamous criminal underworld, a certain set of circumstances running in parallel led them to their currently questionable profession: a pair of hitmen for hire. Assassins, if you will. And, to put it bluntly, they have gained a reputation in various international underworlds for being a pair of right crazy fuckers!

Nevertheless, the twins operate exclusively within the underworld and dislike it when the lethal events of their lives cross paths with the innocent. They do not carry out hits on civilians and will go out of their way to keep the blameless at a decent distance from their dangerous shenanigans.

That said, sometimes collateral is simply unavoidable...

Of course, to disclose one's real name in such a profession would be more than foolish. As such, the twins are known to operate under the zesty codenames of Lemon and Tangerine.

🍊TANGERINE 🍊

Likes: Bespoke suits, gold jewellery, (English) football, boxing, being right, expensive apparel, high-end liquor, jazz music, punk music, shitty cigarettes.

Dislikes: Being spoken down to, wifebeaters, racists, feeling underdressed, bratty kids, being micromanaged, being filmed/ having his picture taken.

Feisty and fowl-mouthed, Tangerine is without a doubt the more firey of the two. Fiercely protective of his brother, their rough upbringing has led Tangerine to go through life with his fists up. His coping mechanism with his high-pressure lifestyle consists of cursing and kicking the nearest walls - or any readily available object, to be honest.

However, despite being a bit of a loose cannon, Tangerine is as tough as nails. A scrappy little fighter, he is persistent, resourceful and has a brain like lightning when it comes to thinking on his feet. And his endurance is borderline frightening. He should have been killed at least fifty times by now and yet he keeps on kicking. The guy could smash his head through a thick sheet of bulletproof glass and then be back on his feet and ready to roll in the next five seconds - trust me on that.

Essentials for any mission: Gun (x2 at least), bulletproof vest, favourite set of brass knuckles, pack of cigarettes.

🍋 LEMON 🍋

Likes: Engineering, trains, technology, Thomas the Tank Engine, soft textures, snacks, Tetris, honest people, jazz music, punk music.

Dislikes: Piercingly high-pitched noises, bristly textures, big noisy crowds, different foods touching each other, underhanded people, fake people, diesels.

Lemon would likely be described by many as the more laid-back of the two brothers. Without a doubt, he is far better at keeping a level head than his tearaway twin. That said, though, if you give him reason enough to be wary of you, you may find yourself up against a deeply daunting opponent.

An expert marksman and incomparable strategist, his ability to read people and see through their superficial masks makes him a formidable foe and a fierce friend, depending on where you fall on his alignment scale. A scale which he measures using definitive traits from the characters of his all-time favourite and profoundly philosophical show, Thomas the Tank Engine.

Essentials for any mission: Gun, phone, hydrating beverage, Thomas the Tank Engine sticker book.

#🍋 & 🍊 || A B O U T #(( ;; ooc ;; SAVE ;; ))#(( ;; ooc ~ pinned ;; ))

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tiodolma · 1 year

Note

I already sent scenes, but I couldn't resist sending you a bit more, just because this is hilarious as hell. Here, have more scenes shenanigans!

Morgana: What do you have to do?

Merlin: *dutifully answers* Not interfere with destiny.

Morgana: Why?

Merlin: Because it's none of my business.

Morgana: Which is why you under no circumstance will meddle in people's relationships.

Merlin: But-

Morgana: Especially if it's our counterparts love life!

Merlin: I just want Morgan to be happy.

Morgana: *pinches the bridge of her nose* Merlin, let her learn from her mistakes.

Merlin: *slumps his shoulders* She's my friend.

Morgana: *smiles sad* I know, but our previous life was enough of a lesson, don't you think?

Merlin: I know...

...

Morgan: I'm surprised, my lord.

Lord Henry: Oh? *looks at her curiously*

Morgan: Not once have you spoken about Merlin nor have you done one of your schemes.

Lord Henry: *shrugs* A friend told me I should know better than to interfere with other people's lives.

Morgan: Would that friend be Anna?

Lord Henry: *smiles a bit* Maybe.

Morgan: I'm glad for you. She's a good influence on you. Tell her my thanks as well. I was this close to strangling you.

Lord Henry: I'm sorry...

Morgan: You're a good friend, Henry. Never change that, but... don't get in the way of my plans, yes?

Lord Henry: Fine. *shifting uncomfortably, because he did get in the way of her plans again*

A few hours later...

Morgan: *growling* I'm going to kill him, slowly and painfully.

Merlin: Who would that be? *letting out a yawn*

Morgan: Henry, that's who!

Merlin: You can kill tomorrow. Come back to bed.

Morgan: *comes back to bed* Let me remind you of one thing and one thing only, Merlin. This-

Merlin: *rolls his eyes* Never happened, I know.

...

Lord Henry: *hiding in the kitchen*

Anna: Would you mind explaining why is Lady Pendragon is looking for you with looks that could kill?

Lord Henry: *squirming* I did the one thing you told me not to...?

Anna: *glares at him* We talked about this!

Lord Henry: I know! But I just couldn't...

Anna: Just... just don't talk to me, right now.

...

Arthur: Henry?

Lord Henry: Yes?

Arthur: Did you by any chance had anything to do with me changing my room at the last minute?

Lord Henry: *trying to look innocent* No...?

Arthur: And then telling Merlin that my sister had nefarious plans to sleep with me on my own room?

Lord Henry: Me? I would never.

Arthur: *lets out a sigh* Look, I know my sister and Merlin have a complicated relationship, but would it kill you not to lie to my advisor? We both know my sister would never do such a thing.

Lord Henry: *thinking* Oh, sire, if you only knew.

Henry: (enters his room and finds anna chained to his bed) ...she didn’t

Anna: (rolls her eyes) now she’s onto me!

Henry: (looks her over and see that she’s been made to wear the revealing garment of morgan’s dancers) ...and you just let her do it.

Anna: what was i supposed to do huh? Throw her against the wall?

Henry: (sits on the bed while removing his boots) gotta admit that’s a good look on you.

Anna: (blushing angrily) get me out of these chains, you fool.

Henry: (changing his clothes to sleepwear) i mean you can do it yourself now. I’m the only one here.

Anna: ...i can’t.

Henry: (pulls on his sleepin tunic) what do you mean you can’t?

Anna: the iron burns.

Henry: (shift closer to inspect her tied hands. He touches the chain and gets a vision of merlin getting tied up in bed as well)

Anna: (watching henry and admiring his face close to hers... plus he smells nice,suddenly the room feels hotter and she is now very aware of how exposed she is)

Henry: (reels back in shock because of the vision)

Anna: (alarmed) merlin?

Henry: (blinks) what is it with you and chaining me up?

Anna: I’m the one in tied up here, not you!

Henry: no, i mean you chained me up in your hovel once. Morgan used these chains to tie Merlin to bed as well.

Anna: (raises chin imperiously) great minds think alike.

Henry: (tucking himself in beside her) maybe i should just sleep here beside you. The view is great. (Winks at the outline of her breasts peeking out the sheer garments)

Anna: i swear i’ll put a dagger to your throat the minute i am out of these

Henry: looking forward to it, milady.

Anna: (furious) oh that’s it grrrrgrrrr (here eyes glow gold and the irons dissolve)

Henry: i told you, you could do - (finds himself pinned by anna to bed, dagger on his throat)

Henry: - it

Anna: (now angrily straddling on henry. One hand holding the blade to his neck and the other hand gripping at his his hair tightly)

Anna: i’m going to chain you up myself (presses blade to his throat)

Henry: (scared, distracted by anna being so sexy and close, his adams apple bobs)

Henry: see that wasn’t so bad! (Grins at her)

Anna: (pulls his hair, he winces, so she leans her face close to his, blade starts to cut into the skin) you are enjoying this...

Henry: (already feeling the sting of the blade, he lets his own eyes burn gold)

Anna pulls back in fear, but Henry catches her hand that was holding the blade. He looks down at her wrist and sees that it was bruised from the iron. Takes her other hand that’s on his hair as well.

He rubs on both her wrists and mutters the healing spell. Anna gasps when the bruises heal.

“Now I did something.” Henry gives her a small smile while letting go of her wrists.

Henry looks up at Anna, at this Morgana. He couldn’t help but stroke her cheek with the back of his fingers. Anna leans into it but I’ll still watches him warily.

“So now that you’re a lord, you are now brave enough to do this?”

Henry retracts his hand as if burned. It is true. This place is changing him. No. He is a different person in this world, with a different upbringing, a much privileged lifestyle. This is a much different life. He is Henry in as much as Merlin.

Anna catches on to his hand before he could drop it. She grips it tight. "Why are you still afraid, Merlin?”

Henry curls the fingers of the hand she was holding, "I can’t play into Lady Morgan’s schemes. I can’t let her use you against me or this world’s Arthur.”

Anger flashes through Anna’s eyes. Before Henry could react she had closed the distance between their bodies and pressed her barely clothed torso to his chest.

"Did it ever cross your mind, Merlin, that I could still easily topple her if I wanted to? Our magic is strong here. We can overpower her if we need to.”

Henry takes a deep breath, dizzy from Anna, from Morgana’s, intoxicating proximity. "W-what do you want from me?” He squeaks.

“A better chance at life,” she replies her breath hot on his lips.

“For us?”

“For us.”

#mergana au #this become bbc mergana #i made it hot #merlin x camelot reincarnation #sorry i got carried away

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afortiicri-aa · 4 years

Text

[ @bloomingempress ]

WEAK!!

Akira practically bursts through the rooftop door, marches towards the Empress and gently takes both her hands in his. The biggest, most nervous smile is on his face. “Y-You can hold my hand anytime...!” Or even his face, his hair, his back (but tenderly because his scars still hurt!), he won’t mind one bit. He’ll melt in her. He’d die for her, he’d kill for her, he’d kill Sugimura for her.

#bloomingempress #Take Your Heart ; Akira #The People Have Spoken ; Wall Shenanigans #akiharu tag.#scars tw #death mention #i'm sorry he's just-- wow people care about me!! for real!

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titan-fodder · 3 years

Text

Prima Vista Part I

Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader wc: ~ 9.7k Warnings: dubious consent (because of alcohol), just copious amounts of sex, oral, squirting, 69ing, college shenanigans, obnoxious frat boys, terrible fashion choices A/N: At long last, here we have the beginning. Massive thanks to @pleasantanathema and @whats-her-quirk who have been cheering for me since I told them I wanted to right a “little college AU” for a “little collab” June and I have been planning for a while. Also, I don’t know where I’d be without Lauren’s fraternity knowledge, so extra thanks for that, babe. I hope everyone has as much fun with this fic as I did.

God, you hate frat boys.

Their sense of entitlement, all their fucking house pride. Brother this, brother that. It's annoying. Add in the factors of being an athlete on top of it, and they're downright insufferable.

So it makes absolutely no sense that you're at a fucking Pi Kappa Alpha party.

Your friend, Hitch, dragged you here (naturally), and it wasn't like you could really object considering she's the only real friend you have on campus. You study together and switch off between dorms to watch movies and bitch about classes. She's the complete opposite of you in many different ways, but you soul-bonded over biology and that was that.

Unfortunately, Hitch decided she would leave you to your own devices almost immediately, opting to skip over to a game of beer pong and flirt with a boy in her statistics class. You have no idea why considering he has a fucking bowl cut, but she's been talking about him for weeks now.

The party is filled with loud music and too many people with red solo cups. There's no way they're all of age, so you're already paranoid that the cops are gonna raid the place, but there's nothing you can do besides leave. It's a tempting thought.

Before you can, though, there's an uproar in the kitchen, and curiosity gets the best of you. Moving from your place against the wall, you make your way over to peek in and see what's going on. A large group of frat boys, what you think are sorority girls, and whoever else wants to join are raising their cups to cheer. An especially loud voice rings out above the rest, "One win down, eleven more to go!"

Claps and supportive shouts are nearly deafening.

"I think we can do it! Do you think we can do it?"

More cheers, more hollers.

"Let's hear it for UC lacrosse!"

You have to cover your ears this time. Should have known this party was to celebrate the win earlier that day.

When the crowd parts, you see the ringleader, Erwin Smith who is very well-known on campus for three reasons: he will talk your ear off about history if given the chance, he's irritatingly gorgeous, and he will fuck any pretty girl with a pulse.

Again—you fucking hate frat boys.

To ease your bad mood and possibly encourage you to have some semblance of a good time, you shuffle further into the kitchen to grab a drink. You feel a little exposed, not dressed like many of the other girls who are either in rompers or the classic sorority chick outfit (giant college shirts that cover their shorts). You are in a crop top, torn shorts, and a floral cardigan. Not your best outfit, not your worst.

There's no way you're touching any of the pre-poured cups or the jungle juice, opting for an unopened can of mediocre beer.

You feel someone approach you from behind, glance over your shoulder to see nothing but a broad chest covered by a fucking hawaiian shirt.

Craning your neck, you're met with another familiar face, one Mike Zacharias known as 1) Erwin's best friend, 2) one of the tallest guys on campus, and 3) the best lacrosse player on the team.

You haven't spoken a single word to him but that doesn't stop him from grinning at you, flipping shaggy hair from his face, and chanting a low, "Shotgun, shotgun, shotgun!"

"Are you god damn joking me?" You ask with a raised eyebrow.

"Hell no!"

"I have shotgunned a beer literally once in my life, and at least half of it ended up on my shirt."

"That's alright," Mike's smile shrinks to a smirk. "We're all about getting chicks wet in Pike."

Face falling, you scoff, "Yeah, okay, I'm leaving."

You sidestep him, cracking open the beer, but he follows close behind you. It makes a little bit of fear spike in your gut—everyone knows the horror stories that accompany many fraternities—but you're mostly just annoyed.

"Hey, what's your name again?"

Again. As if you've actually formally met before.

"Why do you care?"

Mike does not hesitate when he answers, "'Cause you look like you're having a shit time here, and I'd like to change that."

You roll your eyes, let your head loll over your shoulder to look at him again. If you're being honest with yourself, he's kind of extremely hot with his undercut and flippy hair, not to mention the stubble that's grown out just enough to make you think thoughts for a split second.

"A noble cause," you quip. "Truly."

He chuckles, watching too closely as you take a sip of your beer.

"So? Name?"

After too big of a swallow, you answer him, and light green eyes brighten a little.

"Oh, you're Hitch's friend, right?"

Of course that would be your only identifier on campus. Hitch is insanely pretty and very outgoing. It makes sense that people just know you as her tag-along.

It doesn't stop you from feeling slightly offended, though.

"Yeah, and you're Erwin's friend, right?"

"Among other things," he snorts. "Mike Zacharias." He holds out a massive hand that you eye before taking, figure you shouldn't be too much of a bitch and make a bad impression on the most highly regarded frat at the college.

"I know who you are, dude. Not many people don't."

"Aw, flatterer."

That grin is back on his face, lopsided and far too charming, and you definitely need to get away from him before you down a couple more beers.

"Freshman?" He pries, and somehow you wind up at the staircase, leaning against the wall and praying he'll just stand beside you instead of caging you in.

He does, and you let out a breath of relief.

"Sophomore."

His eyebrows shoot up for a second. "Fuck, you've made it through a whole year flying under my radar?"

You give him a wholly unimpressed look. "Wow, you really know what to say to a girl, don't you?"

"That came off as shitty, sorry. I just mean, like, you're super cute. Feel like I would have committed you to memory if I'd seen you."

Your face heats up probably more than it ever has in your life, but you still snap, "We haven't had a single class together, I never go to your games, and this is the first Pike party I've been to."

Mike nods. "Ah, that explains it. Just haven't given anyone a chance to notice you."

"Sure, let's go with that."

Another several sips. You hiss at the taste, and Mike laughs.

"Can't handle beer?"

"Can't handle shitty beer."

"Ouch. Want me to grab you something else?"

He really doesn't seem to understand the warnings all girls have heard over the years. That, or he just doesn't care. You don't know him well enough to pass that kind of judgement.

"Uh, no. I always make my own drinks at parties."

"That's understandable." Except it isn't. He doesn't have a clue.

"Well, you can go grab one, and I'll just finish this one for you. Don't want it to go to waste."

It's your turn to smirk now. "That desperate to swap spit, Zacharias?"

"Like this?" He laughs through his nose. "Nah. But I can think of other ways."

"We've been talking for literally two minutes."

"I'm perfectly capable of making decisions in two minutes."

"Not any good ones obviously."

Tilting his head, Mike thinks out loud, "Can't tell if that's an insult aimed at me or yourself."

"Take it however you want. I don't really care."

His eyes glint with amusement. There's no way you're escaping this any time soon.

Long, thick fingers close around the top of your can, and he gently tugs it out of your hand then keeps those eyes locked with yours as he takes a sip.

"Gross." You try to keep the teasing tone from your voice.

"Just go get another drink."

You actually listen, mostly to get away from him but also because you could go for something easier to stomach.

A game of King's Cup is going on in the kitchen, a five obviously being drawn because everyone suddenly pantomimes holding a steering wheel. It's surprisingly fun to watch, so you post up next to the counter after mixing orange and pineapple juice with rum.

"Four's whores!"

"Categories! Different beers!"

"Seven heaven!"

"Ayyy, waterfall!"

You shake your head as everyone drinks for way too long. Some people are already swaying in circles where they're sitting. Others are simply red-faced.

"Wanna play?"

"Jesus! You came outta nowhere."

Mike looks too smug for your liking, but doesn't say anything, just crushes the empty can in his hand and throws it into the trashcan next to the back door, all gooseneck and perfect arch.

"Let me guess—you're reigning champ at beer pong."

"Nah," he waves you off. "That's Erwin and Nile. King's Cup however…"

"King's Cup isn't even a competition. It's just flipping cards and getting fucked up."

"Well, yeah, but it's still fun."

You let out a heavy sigh, eyes still trained on the game going on, then concede, "Once this one is over, I'll play. Just to get you off my back." And because he won't have the chance to talk to you for the duration of the game.

"Excellent."

You manage to finish your drink by the time the round ends, have to rush to make another as Mike strides over to the table and steals the two seats that have been vacated. They're right across from each other. You don't know if you'd prefer that or just sitting next to him so he can't stare at you.

Sauntering over, you plop down and place your drink in front of you. The guy to your right is quick to introduce himself with hooded eyes and a self-assured smile. You give him basically the same treatment that you've been giving Mike, making him pout and turn away as a freckled girl deals out the cards.

It's fast paced, and you find yourself drinking more than you'd planned. Mike picks you as his buddy (of course), and the guy next to you makes everyone drink for nearly thirty seconds straight when he pulls an ace.

Still, you find yourself laughing as people scream and curse. You catch eyes with Mike often, and as you finish your second drink, he begins looking very attractive. More attractive than before. So attractive that you allow him to pour your third cup.

"If you roofied this, I'm gonna be real upset with you," you tell him just before taking a sip. He added more rum than you did, but that doesn't surprise you.

"Hey, one of Pike's virtues is being a gentleman."

As soon as he says it, about seven people around the table shout, "Pi Kappa Alpha!" like some kind of sports team, and you roll your eyes so hard it hurts.

You're drunk after this game. And, then you make another drink and get plastered. Meandering around the rest of the party, bodies begin to blur together, the music fades in and out, and you barely know what you're saying to Mike anymore as he follows you close behind in the same state. For every drink you've had, he's had two, and now he's walking around with a cup full of jungle juice nodding at his brothers, smiling at all the girls who look at him.

His room is downstairs unlike most of the others, right at the end of the hallway. It makes it far too easy to end up inside, but as soon as the door closes and his huge hands find your hips, your world disappears entirely.

The first thing you feel when you wake up is a nauseating pounding in your head. The second is a very large body behind you.

God dammit, you think, trying to recall the events of the night before.

Pi Kappa Alpha. Hitch left you, so you hung out with… Mike Zacharias? From the lacrosse team?

Frowning, you try to look over your shoulder, but all you can really see is a head of hair. However, you can feel the coarseness of his beard against your bare shoulder, and that's enough to solidify that it is indeed Mike behind you.

Shifting some brings more of your physical state to your attention—your naked chest under the blanket, the way your legs are pressed together, your pussy between your thighs… swollen? Jesus, what did he do to you last night? You can also feel something dry and crusty on your stomach which is both disgusting and relieving. At least he had enough sense to pull out.

Luckily, his arm isn't wrapped around you which makes it much easier to sit up on your elbow. It takes you a while to locate your clothes around the room from where you are, and even then, all you can find are your shorts, shoes, and bra. You peer around, trying not to groan at the headache threatening to make you black the fuck out all over again, but that pounding as well as the nauseating churning of your stomach is making it difficult.

You slide out of the bed, basically crawling to the little pile of discarded clothes. As you fumble with fastening your bra, you glance around one more time in search of your shirt and cardigan, but it’s no use. What you do see, however, is the obnoxious Hawaiian shirt Mike had been wearing the night before, and well… You’d rather not leave the Pike house topless, so…

Snatching it off the floor, you slip your arms through the giant sleeves and somehow manage to button up about half of it. Then, you’re flying out the door, desperate to be in your own dorm, curled over your own toilet, in your own clothes.

Oh, thank god his room wasn’t upstairs, you praise, trying to remember the way to the front door. There are numerous bodies and tipped over cups to navigate through, and you cringe at the various odors that assault your senses.

You see the door from across the room, so close and getting closer as you try not to trip over anything, but as you pass the kitchen, you hear a smooth, familiar voice greet, “Good morning,” in a smug way.

Erwin is leaning against a counter, smirking over a steaming cup of coffee. He’s wearing only sweatpants, his hair is a little mussed, and for a split second, you understand why he pulls so many girls.

Still, you roll your eyes and continue moving—a classic DNE situation, but the frat boy doesn’t seem to get the message, instead calling out, “Nice shirt!”

“Fuck off, Smith,” is the only thing you utter before leaving, slamming the door behind you.

Mike easily catches the frisbee that spins directly at his face then quickly throws it back to try and catch Nile off guard. It works, and the brunet curses and has to go running after the flying disc.

A few girls watching from the nearby fountain clap and yell his name, wriggling fingers in a wave as if he can actually see that far away. Mike gives one wave of his own hand then turns back to the grass where Nile is jogging back to his place.

“You did that on purpose, you asshole!” He spits.

Mike shrugs his shoulders, yells back, “Get better at frisbee, and you won’t have this problem!”

Nile throws the plastic so hard that it flies off toward the fountain, making all those girls scream and dive for cover.

“Yeah, I’m not getting that,” Mike shakes his head. Nile drags his fingers down his angular face before setting off on yet another trek, apologizing profusely then standing around to flirt like usual.

Blowing hair out of his face, Mike considers joining his brother, but before he can, he sees a familiar figure turning on the sidewalk, about to pass the fountain and head toward Hartley Hall.

His feet are moving before he really registers it, glad his long legs can carry him quickly even at a walk. Mike calls out when he’s a couple yards away, and you turn to him, eyes growing wide before you start to move faster.

He can just barely make out the words, “Nope. Not doing this,” and chuckles, catching up the rest of the way.

“Hey, chill, I just wanna talk.”

You turn to look at him, head tilted up, squinting against the sun, and Mike has never been more thankful for his height because you look so god damn cute all small and irritated with him.

“What is there to talk about? I don’t even remember anything.”

“Yeah, neither do I,” he says, lacing fingers together behind his head. “Shame.”

“Whatever.”

Mike tries and fails to hide a snort, nods at Nile as you both pass him and the gaggle of girls surrounding him. Mike has no doubt his friend will get at least one phone number out of it, if not all of them.

“Did you at least have a good time before you blacked out?” He ventures.

You shrug your shoulders, hitch your backpack up a little higher. “Maybe. But, if I was just around you the whole time, probably not.”

“Aw, come on! What did I ever do to you?”

“You need a list?”

Mike nods. “Would probably help.”

“For brevity's sake, I’ll just say that you started the night trying to get a literal stranger to shotgun a beer and ended the night fucking said stranger and… Not holding back, apparently.” Mike frowns, about to ask what you mean by that, but you elaborate before he can. Voice dropping, you question, “Do you have any idea how fucking sore I’ve been for the last few days? What the fuck do you even have hidden in those stupid shorts?”

“I’d be happy to show you again.” He grins sideways, and when you shoot him a venomous look, he figures it’s time to change the subject. “Anyway, I may have done that and more, but you’re the thief.”

“Excuse me?”

Mike tries to sound nonchalant as he accuses, “Stole my shirt and everything." Honestly, he's a little upset that he didn’t actually get to see you wearing it.

“I—”

“That’s my favorite shirt, you know?”

You laugh. Finally. “Are you serious?”

“Absolutely.”

“That shirt is fucking heinous, okay? You’re lucky I didn’t burn it.”

“Does that mean I can have it back?”

You make a little noise in your throat, something between a grumble and a growl, but you check your phone and tell him, “Fine. My next class isn’t for another couple of hours, so just…Follow me.”

It takes immense effort to not skip to your dorm like a little kid, but Mike is excited. He’s not gonna try anything weird, but just seeing your space? He’ll be able to get a better feel for you. So far, all he knows is that you live and breathe sarcasm and can’t handle your liquor well. It’s enough to get him a little more than interested, but it’s not enough to go off of.

The two of you gain a few looks as you make your way through the shared study space of the dormitory, heads turning, eyebrows raising in recognition. No one should be all that surprised; it’s not like Mike and Erwin haven’t frequented a lot of these rooms.

You lead him down a hallway, and Mike looks at all the little dry-erase intro boards hanging outside of every door. He’s a little surprised to see that the one by yours isn’t blank. Your name is written in bubble letters, surrounded by little hearts, and when you catch him looking at it, you’re quick to tell him, “Hitch.”

“Ah. Of course.”

He follows you inside, staying by the door to not invade too much of your space, but he doesn’t even try to be subtle as he looks around the small room. Pennant for the college hung up over a cork bulletin board that’s a mess of photos and sticky notes. Cluttered desk with just enough of it cleared to fit a laptop. Tiny succulents on the window sill. Double bed covered in a quilt. And there, in the open closet, Mike catches sight of his shirt—pastel pink and littered with palm trees.

After dropping your backpack on your bed, you step over to the hanging clothes and grab it, muttering, “Ridiculous,” as you hand it over.

Mike laughs as he slings it over his shoulder. “You know what’ll make you hate it even more?” You quirk an eyebrow, probably doubting that anything could, but your entire face falls when he informs you, “I have matching shorts to go with it.”

“No you do not.”

“Definitely do.”

“That should be a crime. You should be arrested.”

He chuckles, has a retort on the tip of his tongue, but something catches his eye—a bookshelf tucked away in the corner by your bed overflowing with novels and knick-knacks. Mike sees a particularly thick paperback, recognizing the black background and small desert picture on the spine.

“Bro!” He walks over, plants a hand in the middle of your mattress, and reaches for it. “Is this fucking Dune?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“This is, like, my favorite book, dude.”

“Seriously?” You sound just as disbelieving as you do disinterested.

Mike begins flipping through it, scanning over highlighted passages as he nods. “I have the whole series back home, but I only brought this one and Messiah with me to college.”

He straightens up but keeps a knee on the edge of the bed, and you plop down to sit on it, watching him closely as he continues to look over the notes scribbled in the margins.

“I had to read it in high school," you tell him. "Then my cousin gave me a lot of the books after I talked with him about it one time. I haven’t gotten around to reading them, though.”

“You really should,” Mike urges. “I mean, I know you probably have a shit ton of reading for classes, but if you ever get the chance, you should at least read the next two.”

“You some kind of closet nerd, Zacharias?”

“Kinda,” he admits, putting the book back on the shelf only to grab a worn copy of Fellowship of the Ring. “I mean, Erwin and a few others are well aware, but I don’t really broadcast it.”

“Not good for the cool guy image?”

“Nah, people are just more interested in other things,” he mumbles, eyes fixed on the tiny print.

“Mike Zacharias,” his gaze flicks to you as you laugh quietly. “Lacrosse god and big fucking geek.”

He closes the book and uses it to lightly hit you on the top of the head with it. You half-heartedly smack him right in his abs only to push against the muscle harder and ask, “Jesus Christ, what do you have under there?”

“You know, that’s the second time you’ve asked what I have under my clothes,” he points out, a little too satisfied. “Better watch out, or I’m gonna start getting ideas.”

You huff, but your hand is definitely still on his stomach, unmoving but warm through his shirt. Mike told himself he wouldn’t do anything weird once he got here, but you’re already on the bed and touching him, and he’d kind of really like to have this particular experience while sober, so he very slowly takes your wrist and moves it away.

It makes you look up at him, a question dancing in your eyes as your lips part. Mike makes sure his own stare conveys everything he’s thinking, wishes he could just transplant his thoughts into your brain so that he can put you a little more at ease around him.

You’re onto him, though, tugging your hand from his grip and blinking a few times. He figures you’re about to point to the door and tell him to take his fucking Hawaiian shirt and leave.

Instead, you pull on the fabric covering his ribs so that he loses his balance and has to catch himself before crashing into you. It puts his face level with yours, and you take the opportunity to kiss him—hard, desperate, and a little confused judging by the way you’re frowning.

Mike grunts, holding himself up with the arm on the side of your hips then uses the other to slide under the thigh closest to him and pull you further onto the bed. He’s straddling you in no time, up on his knees so that he doesn’t crush you.

Hearing the sound of shoes hitting the ground, he tugs his shirt off over his head, and then he’s curling over you again. Your mouths grow slick with spit. He slides his tongue past your lips, and you arch into him, fingers tangling in his hair. Mike pushes you back down so that he can strip you down to your bra and panties then takes the time to rid himself of his shoes and shorts.

“Oh, fuck,” he hears you breathe, and when he glances up at you, he finds you staring at what he knows is an intimidatingly large bulge under his boxer briefs. “It makes sense now—the soreness.”

Mike chuckles, slots his forearms on either side of your head and mutters, “Yeah, sorry about that.”

You lick his lips and he bites yours, bodies clashing together as he grinds himself against your covered pussy. Eventually Mike is able to snake a hand down your body, making sure to brush over your ribs so that you squirm beneath him. Fuck, he already loves the way you squirm. And, when he moves your panties to the side and teases your little hole, already wet just from making out, Mike discovers that he loves the way you moan too.

He’s slow as he pushes a finger in, groaning when you clench around it. Pumping it in and out, he gently works you open and wonders if he was courteous enough to do this the other night. He hopes he was.

You spread your legs for him, start bucking into his hand, especially when he hits that special spot inside you.

“Fuck, fuck, fu—” You grab his face, bringing it close to yours again so that you can muffle curses against his lips.

When Mike adds a second finger, your jaw drops, and you start to tremble.

“Too much?” He asks.

You shake your head, stutter a breathy, “N-no. Just—ah—slow. Go slow.”

He moves to suck on your neck, promising, “I will.”

Mike waits until you’re dripping into his palm and spread about as widely as you can be underneath him. Then, and only then does he shimmy out of his underwear and question, “Condom?”

“Bookshelf,” you huff. “In the jewelry box.”

When he opens it, a little ballerina spins, and Mike has to laugh at the ridiculousness of it. “That’s twisted.”

“Shut up.”

He grabs one of the gold packages and tears it open, then rolls the latex over his cock and discards the wrapper somewhere.

Mike only gives you his tip first, sits right inside your entrance so that you can squeeze him and get used to the feeling before he pushes in any more. You barely shift your hips back and forth, like an experiment. It’s just enough for Mike to see slick coating the end of the condom, and he nearly starts drooling.

He presses in a little more, appreciates the way your eyes roll into the back of your head, then adds one more inch.

“Jesus Christ.” Your breaths are coming in short gasps, words slurring together. He’s not even halfway in, and you’re already fucked out.

Your cunt is spasming around him, and Mike tries to get you to relax more by lightly rubbing your clit with the pad of his thumb.

You leak around him, pussy slowly but surely opening up a little more so that he can slide in further. He gives a few shallow thrusts that make you whine, then reaches up to grab one of your pillows which only sends him deeper.

“God dam—”

Mike lifts you and shoves the pillow under your hips, smiles in a way he’s pretty sure you hate, then jokes, “Better to fuck you with, my dear.”

“In...sufferable…” The annoyed tone is lost when you cry out. Mike buries himself as far as he can without hurting you. He isn’t quite balls deep, but you feel so fucking good that he doesn’t even mind.

Starting a steady rhythm that has every upthrust dragging over your g-spot, Mike watches through foggy eyes as your mouth opens and closes, chest rising with stuttering breaths before you exhale and moan. He dips his thumb between your folds to gather a little bit of slick and return it to your clit. The circular motion makes you arch again, and Mike abandons the little bud for just a moment so that he can unclasp your bra and pull it off. The sight of your tits bouncing in time with his thrusts almost does him in, but he holds back, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment to gather himself.

You’re just clamping around him so perfectly, pussy drooling and creaming on his cock, and Mike is not a quickshot, but for you—

He pulls out all at once, flips you so that you’re on hands and knees, then spreads you open to lick into you from behind.

“Holy—”

Mike’s cock is throbbing where it bobs against his stomach, but he can ignore it for the most part, focused on eating you out, sucking at your messy lips then dragging the flat of his tongue over your hole. He moves his face back and forth, wants to leave his mark on you in the form of stubble burn between your legs.

“Mike, Mike, fuck, please.”

He’s positive you can’t actually hear him when he teases, “Please what?” right into the crevice of your ass.

You growl, push against him, and swallow enough pride to beg, “Please fuck me.”

Biting his lip, Mike straightens up enough to watch his fingers disappear into your pussy. One, two, then a third that makes your messy entrance stretch for him. He lowers his face again, feather light licks around your sensitive hole, and when he twists his wrist so that he can tap on your spot, you come immediately.

A mixture of slick and squirt drips from your cunt and soaks into your quilt. Mike pushes more out as he continues to finger fuck you, humming at the way your arms give out and you fall against the mattress.

This is the perfect position for him. He replaces his wet fingers with his cock and ruts into you quickly, chasing after his own impending orgasm. Pretty little whimpers fall from your lips, fuck drunk as you babble, “Oh, god, Mike, Mike, fuck…”

He’s gripping your hips too tightly, pulling you back against him, shoving his cock deeper and deeper until he finally comes with a shudder and a low groan.

Mike pants for a few seconds, then leans down to press a few kisses to your spine, but instead of the usual happy sighs he gets from most girls, you just roll your shoulders and mutter, “Stop that.”

He does, then pulls out, takes a second to stare at your pussy—worked open from his size and still dripping. It would make a very pretty picture, but Mike wouldn’t dare try that with you.

You roll onto your back, a huff of air leaving your lungs as you scrub a hand over your face then tilt your head to him. It looks like you have something to say, but you just chew on your bottom lip, eyes moving from Mike to the door.

And, he can take a hint. You don’t have to say it.

With a self-deprecating snort, he pulls the condom off, tying it then tossing it into the trashcan by your bed.

“Yeah, okay,” he nods. “Let me just…” Mike tugs his clothes back on, kindly tosses you your top so that you can cover yourself like you obviously want to.

He makes sure to grab the Hawaiian shirt that brought him here in the first place, tossing it over his shoulder then striding to the door.

Chancing one more glance at you, you force a smile and try to pad his bruised ego. “Don’t worry, it was good. You were good. It’s just not gonna happen again.”

Mike fights a smirk, raises a hand in a wave, then steps out.

Not gonna happen again, he chuckles to himself. Yeah, right.

You don't understand how this keeps happening, how you keep ending up in bed with Mike fucking Zacharias.

This time you had gone to the disgusting bar right off campus, got one whole drink in your system before the familiar trio walked in. They were all in khakis and pastels—Erwin in blue, Nile in yellow, Mike in pink. Again.

You actually slammed your head down on the bartop because despite how basic he looked in his light polo, Mike was still hot.

Is still hot.

Back at the Pi Kappa Alpha house, you're a mess of limbs on his bed. You take immense pleasure in tugging his shirt off, and once his arms are free again, he's lifting the hem of your little skirt and mouthing over your thong.

You're more than tipsy after a couple more drinks but nowhere near as drunk as you were the first night. It hadn't taken much convincing from Erwin for you and Hitch to play pool with them, and when Mike had come up behind you to help you line up your shot, you knew you were a goner.

While he's busy between your legs, you take off your shirt and bra. Green eyes flick up as soon as you toss both articles on to the floor, and without any hesitation, Mike reaches up to grope your tits.

He's clumsy and distracted as he tongues over the warmth pooling in your underwear, squeezing plump flesh and pinching your nipple so that you whine and push your hips further into his face.

Mike groans, just as drunk if not more so. He's messy as he kisses your thighs, nearly rips your thong when he pulls it off of you.

His tongue feels good, too fucking good as he laves over your entrance, soothing an ache that isn't quite there anymore but definitely was a few days ago.

"Taste so fucking good," he grumbles, slurping and sucking and making you squeeze your thighs around his head.

"Okay," you pant. "Okay, okay." You grab him by the hair and lift his head from you, stomach flipping at the sight of the bottom half of his face absolutely covered in slick.

God dammit, why is he so sexy?

Your mouth waters, and the thought of possibly giving him head this time crosses your mind. You're just inebriated enough to stay relaxed, didn't drink to the point of throwing up, and he has gone down on you the last two times so...

Lizard brain taking over, you sit up, tell him to flip over, then start making your way down his body.

Mike grabs you before you can turn to face him, fingers digging into your thighs and pulling you down to sit on his face.

"Fucking—I'm trying to blow you, for Christ's sake."

He moves his head just enough to tell you, "So? You can do that while I do this."

And, he's not wrong. It just means that you're gonna get distracted.

For a while, all you can really do is control your breathing and undulate on top of him, but eventually you fall to your elbows and lick up his shaft from base to tip.

Mike really does have a nice cock—a beautiful cock—bigger than you've ever taken in terms of both length and girth, and veiny in the perfect way. Even his balls make your pussy throb, large and round, the right just slightly bigger than the left and now dripping with saliva as you lower your mouth further and further onto his cock.

The feeling of his tongue buried in your cunt is making you delirious, eyes rolling, muscles going slack as you gurgle around the tip hitting the back of your throat.

Mike groans into you, his legs starting to shake, and you assume in your half aware state that he's trying to not just skull fuck you into oblivion.

You know you're making a mess, both on his face and on his cock. The fingertips that have been holding you open shift, one of them slipping into your clenching hole, and your hips begin to move on their own volition, riding what he'll give you while moving your tongue back and forth.

You've only taken about half of him, doubt you can take any more. He's hot and heavy in your mouth, and when you pull off to breathe, you can taste pre cum on the back of your tongue.

It triggers something in you, makes you raise up and clumsily turn around so that you can work him inside of you.

Mike groans a long, "Fuuuck," and immediately starts thrusting upward.

You're lucky you're as wet as you are, but the burn that comes with getting so stretched out still makes you hiss. You brace yourself on his broad chest, feeling the dampness of sweat forming a sheen on him, and your own body starts to feel too hot.

You had wanted to ride him to feel in control of the situation for once, but you quickly realize it's not gonna happen, Mike gripping your hips and moving you how he sees fit.

He's raw this time, a thought that should scare you, but he feels so good even through the discomfort. Every vein and ridge hits all the sweet spots inside of you, the flared head of his cock smooth as it presses just where you need it to.

You're squirting again—he just seems to be able to fuck it out of you. It's not the high you're looking for, but the release in pressure still feels divine.

Mike seems to enjoy it too because he looks down at where you're connected, swears at the way you gush on his cock, then starts swiping fingers over your clit so quickly it almost hurts.

More fluid leaks from you, and Mike breathes a low, "Come on, baby, come on, 'm gonna fuck you dry tonight."

Hearing him talk like that—his hand rubbing over your overstimulated clit, his thick cock threatening to split you in two—causes heat to travel up your legs and down your arms until it settles in your stomach and floods you.

You cry out, stars and tears behind your eyes as Mike keeps going, taking everything he can from you until he's laying in a huge wet spot in his bed.

He lifts you just in time to shoot cum upward on your chest, white splattering then dripping down in strands to pool on his stomach.

You stare down at him, mouth hanging open and find him looking up at you with the same expression.

It's hands down the best sex you've ever had, but you're not about to tell him that. Instead, you dismount him like the fucking horse he is and stand on weak legs, actually have to lean on the bed for support.

"Just stay the night." His voice is deep and full of gravel. It's entirely too hot.

"Absolutely not." You shake your head, grab your shirt and his boxers then ask, "Where's the nearest bathroom?"

"Down the hall on the right, but you don't have to sneak out the window or anything. Just use the front door if you're tryin’ to run away."

You can't help but snort. Stupid. "I'm not trying to escape, dummy. I just need to pee."

"Oh. Right."

You slip out of the room, hoping it's late enough for everyone to be asleep, but you have no such luck as the door to the bathroom opens and fucking Erwin steps out.

He hums, looking you over for a moment as his lips lift on one side.

"Don't say anything," you grit through your teeth.

He holds his hands up in surrender, chuckles, acting all innocent. "Wasn't going to."

You squint, not believing him for a second, then move around him to get to the bathroom. Before you can shut the door, you hear him mutter, "Another one bites the dust," and consider running out and strangling him.

"Please please please come with me to this game," Hitch begs, her hands clasped together, imploring eyes wide and doe-like.

"No. You have plenty of other friends to go with. You don't need me there."

"But, I want you to be there. It's gonna be such a good match. Rival schools and all that."

You roll your eyes. "Hitch, in all the time you've known me, have you ever seen me give a single fuck about sports?"

"No, but you'll finally get to see Mike and Erwin and Nile play."

"All the more reason not to go."

"Do you not like them or something? Why wouldn't you like them? Everybody likes them!"

She doesn't know, and you don't want her to. She had been too caught up with that Marlowe kid at the party, then was kept busy playing pool with Nile to see you and Mike slip out of the bar together.

It's the only secret you've ever wanted to keep from her. You will take it to the grave.

"I just… I just don't, okay? I get a… Sleazy vibe from all of them."

You really don't. Not exactly. You're not a big fan of the 'fuck-every-chick-on-capus' mentality, but most college boys think like that. Only difference is these three can actually achieve it.

Hitch crosses her arms over her chest and gives you a look you've seen on your mother's face many times, usually when she has a point to prove.

"You know I'm just gonna keep bothering you until you come to one, so why not just get it outta the way?"

And, there's that point.

"Ugh." You know she's right, and you really can't put up with this all semester. "Fine, but I'm gonna bitch the entire time."

Hitch squeals and claps, bouncing where she stands. "Yes! Wouldn't have it any other way."

You dress in school colors, put your hair up so that it won't be on your neck as the sun beats down, then take Hitch's little hatchback to the field. You try to talk her into sitting toward the back of the crowd that's gathered on the bleachers, but she just pulls you to the front without acknowledging your request.

Even with the helmets, you can easily make out who's who, mostly because of their size. Mike and Erwin are doing some kind of pregame ritual where they hit their sticks together, shout something, and chest bump. It's the most alpha thing you've ever fucking seen and makes you question why you ever thought screwing one of them was a good idea.

To be fair, you never really did think it was a good idea. It just kind of happened. Three times.

But, it needs to stop.

You repeat that thought to yourself as you watch Mike sprint across the field and launch the ball into the goal several times. You repeat it as he dances around his opponents with ease, quick footwork until he can throw them off. You repeat it as he stands on the sidelines and takes his helmet off to shake out sweaty hair and squirt water into his mouth.

And, none of it really helps. Mike is pretty incredible on the field, especially with Erwin and Nile backing him up. Everyone in the stands is screaming, yelling their names and chanting. It's a little contagious, you have to admit. You get as far as clapping but refuse to actually cheer.

At some point, Erwin jogs over to the bleachers and waves his arms for everyone to get louder, and they sure do. Even through his helmet, you can see his sparkling white smile, and your own lips curl up as you shake your head at him. Unbelievable. He has all these people at his beck and call.

Erwin has to get back on the field, though, fueled by the crowd like the other nine players. They end up pulling ahead of the other team and finishing the game eleven to seven.

Naturally, Erwin announces a party at the Pike house, and naturally, Hitch drags you to it.

This one is even bigger than the last. It offends every one of your senses—too loud, alcohol permeating the air, bad drinks, worse dancing, and strangers rubbing against you as you pass them.

You give up on your beer before you’re even halfway through with it, just set the can on one of the counters and start milling around. You’d rather be anywhere else but here. Your head hurts from the game earlier, baking in the sun and not drinking enough water. Should’ve taken an Advil… And some Benadryl. Hitch wouldn’t have been able to bring you here if you’d been unconscious.

All of the lacrosse team is there, flanked with guys who won’t stop slapping them on their backs and girls who won’t stop batting their eyes and squeezing their biceps. It’s comical, really, the fairweather trend. There’s no way this would be happening if they’d lost their last three games. Instead, the team would be getting harassed and pestered, not so subtle comments about practicing more and replacing members. You’ve seen it all before.

Leaning against a wall, you watch it all unfold. It’s probably the most entertaining thing at the party other than the group of sorority girls dancing on a table. Things are getting out of hand already, and you would prefer not be here for the aftermath, but just as you're about to leave, Mike breaks away from the group and strides over to you.

“Hey, didn’t expect to see you.” He takes a sip from his cup, smiling around the rim.

You use your usual excuse: “Hitch,” and he nods.

“Right. Did you watch the game today?”

Crossing your arms, you mumble a, “Yes,” that Mike can’t hear but can definitely see.

He beams then asks, “You gonna tell me I played well? ‘Cause I did.” He’s all cocksure and giddy, and it makes your body run hot in a few different ways.

“I don’t think you need anyone else fawning over you,” you say with a condescending laugh.

“You mean you don’t want me to flex for you?”

“I’m leaving. Right now." When you push past him a little too roughly, it causes him to drop his cup, and your shirt is suddenly plastered to your chest and stomach. The white isn’t discolored, which leads you to believe, “Fuck, is this just straight vodka?”

“No, Christ,” he cringes at your wet state, looking genuinely apologetic. “It’s just water. Sorry.”

You scrunch your top up to wring it out, wondering what he’s doing drinking water instead of liquor, but you’re not about to pick on him for staying hydrated.

“It’s fine. I was about to leave anyway.”

He’s quick to stop you with a, “No, don’t. Just… change into one of my shirts or something."

Narrowing your eyes, you contemplate how many ways this can go wrong, how much you should not allow this, and even go as far as accusing, "You're just trying to get me in your room again."

"You wanna stay in a wet shirt?" Not really. "Come on."

He jerks his head toward the hallway, and you end up following him, grumbling the whole time because you swear to God if you end up on your back for him again, you're going to be very upset with yourself.

Mike beelines it for his dresser as soon as you're in the room, much quieter than the rager outside. He digs around in it, flipping all the way to the bottom then pulls out a heather gray tee.

"It'll probably still be a little big, but it's from high school, so you shouldn't drown in it."

He tosses it to you then, to your surprise, turns back to the wall to give you the privacy to change. You eye him the whole time, peeling off your top as well as your bra since it soaked through. His shirt still covers your little shorts, and you assume you look a lot like one of those sorority girls, but it's good enough, has that super soft feeling from being worn too much.

"Thanks. You can, uh… You can turn around now."

Mike looks over his shoulder, like he's making sure you're decent, then turns around fully.

"I was trying to get outta there anyway. Spilling a drink on you was a good excuse."

You open your mouth, choking on a scoff, then ask, "Did you do that on purpose?"

"No! It really was an accident. I'm glad it was just water, but I still feel bad."

You're squinting at him, but now you're curious about something else.

"Why'd you wanna get away from the party?"

Sighing, Mike shows a tired smile. "Honestly, I'm still worn out from the game. I'm already sore and covered in these god damn bruises. I just wanna relax."

"If you're covered in bruises, I can't imagine how the other team feels. You smacked the shit outta some of 'em."

"So, you were watching."

"I may have glanced up once or twice," you lie. "Anyway, why don't you just hide out in here?"

He shrugs his shoulders. "Erwin insisted I show my face, and I didn't want him to give me shit about being a recluse."

You can relate. It's why Hitch drags you everywhere. You wouldn't even leave your dorm for classes if you didn't have to.

Still. "Dude. You're definitely not a recluse. You're fucking everywhere. All the time."

"So? I can get tired too."

He's got a point.

"Can we just chill in here for a while?" He asks you.

"Why do you need me to chill? You basically just said you needed a break from social interaction."

"Yeah, but not all social interaction," he corrects with a small grin. "Please? I've got movies and video games, Zelda and shit."

Again, the contemplation kicks in, all the pros and cons. You know very well what this can (will) lead to, but you also want to escape the party. And, if Hitch whines about you leaving, you can tell her you were there the whole time. Not like it's a lie.

"Fine, but I have some stipulations."

"Oh, do you?"

"I do."

Mike waves a hand for you to go on. "Let's hear 'em then."

Holding up one finger, you tell him, "You have to let me snoop around your room—" he laughs. You lift another finger, "—and we are not, under any circumstances, having sex."

"Deal."

You tilt your head, taken aback at how quick he is to agree. "Wait, seriously?"

"Seriously. Go ahead. I'll pull up Hulu."

You hum, still suspicious, but start making your rounds, taking in photos from what you assume to be the high school soccer team he played on, then a fishing trip with Erwin, a middle-aged couple with a dog, and some pinned up tickets to sporting events he's attended.

He has a bookshelf against a wall, textbooks at eye level, but the top and bottom shelves are filled with sci-fi and fantasy novels that make you smile. His TV is fairly large, big enough to see the picture from his bed which is also sizable and draped with a plush comforter. The last thing that catches your eye is his closet, halfway open and full of jerseys and Polos. A few different pairs of shoes sit at the bottom, but pushed all the way in the corner are a few boxes of fucking Magic the Gathering cards.

"Oh, man. You really are a closet nerd. Like, literally."

"Huh?" Mike looks over at where you're kneeling, realizes what you're looking at and actually sounds self-conscious when he admits, "Yeah, uh, I wasn't joking the other day."

"I've never played—too technical for me—but my friends in high school did."

"There are baseball cards back there too if that makes me any cooler."

"It doesn't," you say bluntly before straightening up and reaching to shut the door to his room. Plopping down on the floor next to him (where he was smart enough to sit), you add, "But even I can admit it's kind of endearing."

"Oh yeah?" He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, that stupid lopsided grin on his too-handsome face.

"Don't get cocky, Zacharias."

"You wouldn't let me if I wanted to."

Both of you agree to a Batman movie, and you make yourself comfortable, kicking your sandals off and leaning against the bed behind you. You're a little too aware of Mike's body beside yours, but you're able to ignore it for the most part, keeping a few inches between your arms and legs. Of course, he still brushes against you when the movie ends and he takes the time to stretch. His shoulders roll, making his shirt strain over his back, and when he holds his arms out, linked at his fingers, you can't help but take a quick look at his bulging biceps.

"Fuck, I'm gonna feel like garbage tomorrow," he complains. You can see the bruises littering his arms, some of them thick lines while others are almost perfectly circular from where he was hit with the end of a lacrosse stick.

"You have any classes?" You ask.

"Just my ten o'clock and three o'clock."

You make a noise of acknowledgement then fall silent. You're not sure how to hold a conversation with him that isn't sarcastic or snippy since you haven't actually done a lot of talking in the first place.

"Sucks," is all you can come up with.

"It's alright. I've probably dealt with worse."

"Probably?"

"Well, nothing really comes to mind, but I'm sure I have."

You should get going. It's late, and you have a nine AM tomorrow. Plus, the longer you sit next to Mike, the more ideas pop up in your head. Dirty ideas. Ideas that will leave you disappointed in yourself.

"Well, I'm gonna head back. This has been…" You're unsure of what word to use, don't want to get his hopes up by saying 'fun'.

Mike figures you out and offers, "Tolerable?"

"Yeah, we can go with that. I'll get your shirt back to you sometime soon."

Mike chuckles and gets to his feet. "Just whenever you can." He grabs your wet top from the ground and holds it out to you, then reaches for the door as you slip on your sandals.

You feel him close behind you, close enough for his chest to push against your back when you straighten up. His arm is pressing into your side, hand curled around the knob and twisting it, but he's unable to open the door as you let your head fall against it.

"God dammit."

"Hm?" You can tell he's leaning down because his breath falls just over your ear.

"I said we weren't—"

He cuts you off, "But, you want to."

He's too hot and too smooth, and you can’t stop yourself from turning around and breathing, "Yeah, I want to."

It's different tonight. Mike takes his time undressing you, kissing and sucking your neck, your collarbone, your nipples that pebble against his tongue. It's unnerving even as you squirm and moan.

He eats you out lazily, flattening his tongue against your folds then dipping into your slit so that he can slip into your twitching hole.

When he adds a finger, you immediately grind down on it, silently begging him to work you open enough to take his cock, but he doesn't move any faster, apparently content to just drive you insane.

You're nearly begging by the time he turns you on your side and moves to lay behind you, hiking your leg up and pushing most of his length inside of you in one faultless motion that makes you choke and sob his name.

That stretch is back, delicious as it is painful as he splits you open. His thrusts are the same slow pace, cock dragging against gummy walls as he drapes an arm over you to toy with your swollen clit.

It takes you both longer than usual to come, but when you do, your whole body trembles against him, and you have to suck in several deep breaths until you feel like your lungs start actually filling with air.

Mike paints your back with warm cum, groaning right in your ear as he rubs against you, his cock sliding easily up and down your skin and making more of a mess.

That unnerving feeling blooms in your chest again, crawls up into your throat.

Tonight had been too casual, too natural. The way you hung out and watched a movie was already a little strange. Him fucking you from behind, holding you tight against his body, was too tender. And, now, after he leaves to grab a wet towel and uses it to clean your back, you find yourself searching for words again only to come up with passionate—intimate.

And, words like that scare you.

[ n e x t ]

#miche zacharias x reader #mike zacharias x reader #aot x reader #snk x reader #aot fanfiction #attack on titan fanfiction #mels prima vista #mels frat house

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