#even though chances of it happening are extremely slim

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

the things you do for love ; satoru gojo

synopsis; satoru begs you to wear the frilly maid dress he bought. against your better judgement, you indulge him.

word count; 7.0k (this was supposed to be short but i miss him terribly)

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, fluff fluff fluff!!, sickeningly sweet, literally just satoru being down horrendous, lots and lots of petnames (he is embarrassing), he’s ur biggest hypeman, entirely sfw!! (i feel like i have to specify that…), reader is a lil grumpy, satoru gojo is the most insufferable man on earth <3

a/n; this is just a silly lil wip i found in my drafts…. i dont remember what possessed me to write this i just think satoru would cry and fall to his knees and throw up blood if he saw u in a frilly dress

”— no.”

the word rolls off your tongue, instantaneous, with a decisive kind of sterness. leaving no room for hesitation, doubt or indecision; not a single gap for his argument to fit through, no loophole he could take advantage of to persuade you into giving in.

but despite all that, satoru just won’t back down.

”come on, baby, please?” he pleads, voice coaxing and sugary sweet. you can almost see those puppy dog eyes of his from behind the black glass of his shades. ”i already bought it and everything!”

”i don’t care,” you spit. a halfhearted attempt at appearing annoyed, in hopes it’ll distract him from the strawberry flush of your cheeks. ”i’m not wearing it. you shouldn’t have bought it, in the first place.”

”but sweetheart,” he drawls, tinged with a sadness he knows tugs at your heartstrings. ”it’s so cute. you’ll look so adorable.”

”not happening.”

”but —”

”— no. i’m seriously not wearing it, satoru.”

and it’s harsh, the flow of your words, sharp and firm; but that’s your only option when he gets like this. your only slim chance at survival, being almost painfully direct. that doesn’t stop your resolve from weakening pitifully when satoru’s posture wilts, though, obviously exaggerated but still somehow effective. you debase yourself for being so weak for him. 

but giving in just isn’t an option, this time. 

under normal circumstances, it wouldn’t take too long for him to persuade you. satoru can be annoying, extremely so — but when he’s being so stubborn about something, there’s usually a good reason for it, even if it’s just that whatever he wants you to do will make him happy. to you, it’ll do.

(his happiness is your priority, after all.)

but in this case, there’s just no way. absolutely no way in hell.

he’s still holding that thing up, like he genuinely thinks it’ll support his argument, swaying it lightly side to side. it really, really doesn’t. it does the complete opposite, in fact.

”but angel,” he tries, again. you wonder if he’s eventually going to run out of petnames, or if he’ll just keep cycling through them until he runs out of air to breathe. ”don’t you wanna see how it’ll look on you?”

a sharp scoff flows from your lips. 

he can’t be serious. 

you really, really, really don’t. if anything, you want everything in the world except for that. you’d rather smash a glass bottle into little pieces and eat them one by one. you’d rather sit on satoru’s lap in a room full of other people. you’d rather jump in front of a moving train with explosives tied to your back.

— it’s so frilly. 

you almost couldn’t believe it, yourself. when he barged into the room, cardboard box in hand, fresh from the mail; all while wearing an excited grin, foreboding, but you were too mesmerized by it to even notice. 

it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, so you didn’t think much of it. satoru buying you gifts is not in any way unusual, even and especially if you tell him not to — and usually, it’d be a sweet occasion. the kind of moment you can soak in, drink up, and then recall fondly for the rest of the week. 

every single detail is worth cherishing. how excitedly he always opens it up, eager for your reaction, and how you always thank him, no matter what it is. sincerely, because satoru can be awkward with his affection, but his love bleeds through in moments like these.

from expensive, well-kept bouquets to little flowers on the side of the road; from thought-out gifts to little trinkets; no matter what it is, the sentiment remains the same.

(this made me think of you. i want you to have it. 

i remembered you mentioning this brand. i love you.)

a way for satoru to show his love, without overwhelming himself or you. a way of easing him into it, when everything is still just so new to him. 

buying you whatever catches his eye is the perfect solution, according to satoru. and it exasperates you, sometimes, when you come home to five amazon packages right outside your doorstep — but deep down you know it’s more for him than you. because it makes him happy, to be able to, allowed to show his love for you in ways like this. in normal ways, easy ways, that say more than his words ever could. 

(being granted the luxury of making you happy. of loving you, even if satoru doesn’t think he’s very good at that, just yet. but he is good at impulse buying things he knows you’d like; so that’ll have to do, for now.)

which is why you couldn’t help but let his infectious joy seep into your bloodstream, trickling its way through your veins with a sweet kind of fervour. couldn’t help but smile, a tender curl of your lips, in tandem with his cute little grin. couldn’t help but grow a little bit excited, as he opened the package — 

to reveal a cutesy, frilly, maid outfit.

— and then your mind screeched to a halt. 

the look on your face must have been something special, horrified and flustered in equal measure. almost in disbelief, as he immediately began to gush about the outfit in his hands. look at the bows, isn’t it cute? god, you’re going to look so pretty. i mean, you always do, obviously, but —

you weren’t really listening. all your mind could do was spin in circles, trying to get some read on the situation, but it was just no good. he genuinely, thoroughly, truly and sincerely expected you to put on a goddamn maid outfit. 

if he had bought it for himself, then maybe you would've been at least a little bit excited. you’re sure he'd look good in it; with those big blue eyes of his, that cute, happy grin. so good that your heart would probably combust, a little. melt through the floorboards. 

but no — he wanted you to wear it. 

and despite your instant, firm protests, he just will not give it up. your boyfriend is a stubborn man, so it’s no surprise, but it’s still enough to irk you.

”satoru, for real. no! i’m not wearing it!”

”but you’d look so good,” he whines, loud and grating as he inches closer to you. still holding the dress up like a prize; you back away, instinctively, like it’ll burn if you touch it.

”i don’t care! it’s a maid outfit! why the hell would i ever wear it?” 

sunglasses seated at the bridge of his nose, satoru allows you to catch a glimmer of his eyes — an effective method of persuasion. he definitely knows their power, and he’s definitely flaunting them for the sole purpose of making you falter. that manipulative scumbag.

the fact that it actually works makes you even angrier, though.

a sharp turn of your head, and your gaze falls on the windowpane, lingering there as you grumble under your breath. he’s so annoying. you’re growing more and more flustered by the minute, too. 

”— because you love me?” 

satoru tilts his head, white locks of hair following the movement. soft and silky, nice to run your fingers through, but you chase the thought away as soon as it enters your subconscious. he looks almost hypnotizing under the sunlight, with the golden rays illuminating his features, smoothing over the contours of his face — as if the sun was made solely to shine on his skin.

and ah, you think, there we go. satoru’s classic tactic; using your love for him as a bargaining chip, pouting down at you like a kicked puppy. you like to picture his eyes all watery and glassy, everytime he tries it, as if he’s some rejected cartoon-mascot. so silly. 

valiantly, you fight off the temptation to smile, gracing him with another little scoff instead. shooting him an unimpressed look, a tiny raise of your eyebrow. ”that won’t work on me.”

”aww, come on,” he almost coos, inching closer still. ”don’t you love me? my sweetiepie? my cute lil’ mochi?” 

(he’s getting bolder with the petnames, you note. as if that’d change anything. they’re so cheesy it makes you recoil.)

”obviously.” you deadpan, trying your best not to let affection seep into the words. but you see satoru’s lips curl up, anyway. ”i’m still not wearing it, though. sorry.”

satoru sighs. heavy, exasperated — dare you say defeated? for a second, you delude yourself into thinking he might actually give in, for once, spare you both the trouble — 

until he falls to the floor, knees hitting the soft flooring with a loud thud. awfully dramatic. he clasps his hands together as if to beg and plead, a starved dog at your feet, and gazes up at you with newfound determination.

”please, baby — i’m begging you,” he groans, voice sad and pained, agonized, like you just threatened to break up with him. silly, silly man.

”don’t grovel.” a sigh drops from your lips as the pads of your fingers go to massage your temples. soothing what you’re almost sure is an incoming headache.

and he makes a certain noise, almost a whimper, like you just kicked him in the gut. you glance down at him as if to signal really? with your eyes, lips parting to speak — 

but your breath only hitches in your throat, and no sound comes out.

satoru’s eyes are almost teary. peeking out from behind his shades, big and glassy, eyelashes dewy with what you know are just crocodile tears. he’s far too skilled at it for his own good, though — maybe you should be supporting his acting career, instead of the weird teacher-slash-sorcerer thing he’s got going on.

and you’re weak, you realize, terribly so. because something deep within your chest constricts, at those sad eyes, heart squeezed painfully, and when you speak you note that your voice sounds a lot softer. 

”satoru,” you sigh, again; more resigned this time, a little fatigued. missing the way his eyes glint at the sound, as if sensing an opportunity. ”really. i’m sorry i wasted your money, but it’s just… not happening. okay?” 

attempting to sound delicate, your voice settles on a soothing tilt, like an adult speaking to a tantrum-throwing child. hoping it’ll be enough to make him falter even slightly. 

it isn’t, of course; if anything, his determination only grows. 

”even just for a short while?” he tries, voice sweet and pliant. all daisies and sunbeams, tailormade to tug at your heartstrings. ”just an hour or so! then i’ll be satisfied.”

”an hour? no way!” you scoff.

and this time, you don’t miss it. from behind those shades, a certain glimmer of something flickers through his irises — something keen and observant. a certain dread crawls its way down your spine.

”so it’s fine if it’s less?” he grins, changing tactics, smooth and decisive. ”half an hour. that’s as low as i’ll go.”

”oh my god.” an exhale, drawn out and exhausted, from the very depths of your chest. ”satoru. toru. no. i’m not wearing it at all. this isn’t an auction.”

”but it could be,” he purrs, still on his knees. it makes him look a little bit disturbed. ”c’mon. why are you getting so shy? guess what — i’ll even settle for twenty minutes. just for you.”

oh, he’s just awful. you want so badly to be mad at him, and that teasing, smug, shit-eating little smirk of his — but you can’t. 

not when he looks so effortlessly pretty, bathed in the light of the sun, surrounded by a mellow glow so tender it makes him look something like an angel. not when he’s acting so characteristically himself, so stubborn and infuriating and entirely impossible not to love. 

another sigh. you’re a little surprised you have enough air left in your lungs to breathe it out, and as much as you hate to admit it, you’re beginning to grow just a bit tired of the back and forth. ”i’m not shy,” you huff. ”i just don’t want to. it won’t look good on me, anyway.”

satoru blinks. genuine surprise shines in his eyes, for a second, like you caught him off guard. ”huh? of course it will. why wouldn’t it?”

a pause. gnawing at your bottom lip, you avert your gaze, trying to find the words. ”it’s just… tacky,” you settle on. ”it’ll look weird.”

”it won’t! you’ll look so cute!”

another huff, as your dispassionate, bored gaze meets his. ”and how do you know that?”

satoru's answer is instantaneous. ”you always look cute. just wanna see how you look in this,” he chirps, brandishing the outfit with barely contained excitement. thoroughly giddy. ”when i saw it, i knew it’d look adorable on you. and i’m never wrong!”

a soft pout plays at your lips, in the wake of his eager sincerity. barely noticeable, just a little embarrassed, but it’s there. and satoru’s seen it, finally — the road to victory. he knows he can win this, if he’s smart about it.

”i just wanna see you in it. just for a second. please? pretty please?” he tilts his head, tantalizing, showing off the blue of his eyes and the curl of his lips. ”then i’ll never ask you for anything again. promise!”

”okay, that’s a lie and we both know it.”

the grin that blooms on your lips is a mistake, you quickly realize, because satoru interprets any sign of joy on your face as positive approval. his determination grows.

”yeah, yeah… but i mean it! i won’t bother you if you just wear it once. just once!” he puts a single finger up, to emphasize the point. ”just wanna see my precious baby all frilly and cute. won’t you indulge me, oh my dearest?”

he’s grinning, now, all soft and teasing. it’s more breathtaking than he’ll ever understand. he’ll never even come close to understanding how gorgeous he is, like this — when there’s no one around to perform for, when he can just be himself. when it’s just you, and satoru, and the feeling of having all the time in the world.

(even if you don’t.)

and you know your face must be flushed, a soft cherry red, as your gaze falls to the floor. the heat on your cheeks and neck, the pitter patter of your heartbeat; you feel it all. 

and it’s embarrassing, to find yourself so fervently twisted around someone’s finger — to find that you don’t even really mind. being wrapped around satoru’s finger isn’t so awful, all things considered. it’s a scary thought, for sure, but he’d never abuse the privilege. probably.

— a sigh. 

you still don’t want to wear it. you really don’t. it’s just awful. tacky, and embarrassing, and overall unpleasant. 

… but if it’ll get him to stop nagging you like this… 

and if it’s just for a short while…

silence, only silence, spilling into the sunkissed air. outside your apartment, the sky melts into a buttery orange hue. an intense contemplation is etched into your eyes, and satoru takes note of it; opting to put the final nail in the coffin. his very last bid.

”fifteen minutes. then you’re —”

”ten minutes,” you cut him off. sounding just a tad exhausted — resigned to your fate. 

and satoru doesn’t even bother trying to hide his excitement. suddenly beaming, he shoots up to his feet, and it causes you to jolt. ”perfect,” he grins, holding the dress out toward you. a little too eager for your liking.

”— but seriously. i’m only wearing it once. never again,” you tilt your head. ”got it?” satoru just nods, happily, so excited he’s practically jumping up and down — and despite everything, you still can’t find it in you to be angry. 

he looks so earnestly giddy.

eyes brimming with suspicion and weariness, your hands reach out to take it into your arms; the puffy dress, the frilly headwear, and the black thigh highs. you’re surprised he didn’t invest in a pair of shoes, while he was at it. just to complete the set.

(you decide not to comment on it, knowing he’d have some poor, overworked shoemaker on the phone within seconds.)

”need my help putting it on?” he purrs, face suddenly very close to yours — and the sudden stutter of your heartbeat sparks a hitch of your throat. desperate to cover it up, you shoot him a hefty glare.

”oh, shut up,” you hiss, but satoru only grins wider. soft little giggles flowing from his lips, like a schoolgirl teasing her upperclassman. silly.

a heavy hesitance rests on your features, as you give the outfit another chance. judgemental eyes trailing over the bows and frills, giving it a thorough look, until your lips curl down into a soft frown. it’s not that bad, but…

”it’s kinda ugly,” you lie, decisively.

”really? i think it’s cute, though.” 

”yeah, ’cause you have no taste.” a click of your tongue. ”what’s so great about maid outfits, anyway? i don’t see the appeal.”

satoru smiles. carefree, amused — still very much teasing. ”well, we’re about to find out,” he chirps.

you give him a look, eventually giving way to a soft exhale. ”fine — but only ten minutes. at most.” a pause, as you stop to think. what else? ”oh, and no taking pictures.”

”— i’m taking pictures.”

…

the exasperated look you send his way doesn’t seem to phase satoru even in the slightest. he continues to smile at you, unbothered, soft around the edges, and you know you’re not winning this one either.

”… fine,” you sigh. ”but — not too many, okay? and you aren’t allowed to show anyone, either.”

”of course not,” he scoffs, almost offended. ”as if i’d let anyone else see you like that.”

stuck between feeling relieved and put off, you settle on simply letting it go. and satoru continues to speak, reassuringly, glossy lips shining in the sunlight as they part.

”rest assured, baby,” he hums, a melodic lilt to his sugarsweet voice. ”this stays between us. i swear on my honour.”

you snort. ”like you’ve got any of that.”

”mean. anyway — c’mon. i can’t wait any longer.” before you can think to protest, he’s ushering you away in the direction of the bathroom, big hands heavy on your shoulders as they push you. still hesitant, you make no move to resist.

(what have you gotten yourself into?)

with one final sigh, your fingers curl around the doorknob, outfit hanging off your arm. not before sending one final glance back at satoru, reinstating your conditions. ”just this once. then you’re selling it. or burning it.”

”yes, yes — you have my word,” he promises. before you can narrow your eyes, he pushes you forward, gently; bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet. ”go on, i’m waiting!”

”yeah, yeah…”

the door closes behind you with a soft thud, and the reality of the situation begins to finally dawn on you. the maid outfit weighs heavy on your heart, but light in your arms — you gaze down at it with pure contempt. it’s not like you have a choice, though. satoru won’t let you wriggle away from this one. and maybe, just maybe, a part of you wants to indulge him, after all.

(his smile shone so brightly, in the light of the sun.)

and it’s almost cautious, the way you begin to dress yourself; first the thigh highs, black and silky, then the outfit itself. pulling it over your head, your arms sneaking through the openings. 

it’s a perfect fit. 

a second passes. you stop to think, brows furrowing in suspicion — did the little bastard measure you? just to make sure he got it exactly right? he has been rummaging through your closet more than usual, recently, but you didn’t think much of it. over the years, you’ve conditioned yourself not to question the things that he does. that sneaky, sneaky man.

after putting on the headwear, you finally lift your gaze, tentative and slow — to take a peek at your own reflection. the flush on your face stands out, a contrast to the black and white colour scheme of the outfit. 

and you can’t help but exhale, a little exasperated.

it’s so… frilly. there are frills on the sleeves, on the shoulderpads, on the skirt, on the hems… everywhere. little bows litter the surface of the smooth fabric, a big one attached to the collar, and several smaller ones across the sleeves. 

and as much as you loath to admit it — it is kind of cute. 

still, you can’t shake the feeling that you’re only embarrassing yourself. it’s hard not to think, when a maid outfit is staring into your soul through the mirror — and you just so happen to be wearing it.

(what the hell are you even doing?)

a low groan slips from your lips, and you crouch down, to bury your face in your knees. the flush of your cheeks is beginning to spread towards the tips of your ears, growing hotter by the minute. satoru’s about to see you like this, of all people. how on earth will he react?

(what if he thinks it looks weird, too?) 

”i’m still waiting!” a voice suddenly exclaims, sing-songy and sweet, and closer than you realized. has he just been standing there and waiting in silence, this whole time? of course he has.

”just —” you croak out, words a little strangled. ”just… give me a minute.”

satoru lets out a high-pitched whine, cheek pressed against the cold wood of the door. ”but i’ve been waiting so long already!” he complains, pouting, the urge to see you growing unbearable. impatience tugging at his heart, so excited he can barely pull himself together.

(all he can think of is you, you, you.)

curling up into a little ball, you attempt to swallow the bundle of nerves in the back of your throat — but that jittery, feather-light feeling of your heartbeat just won’t go away. it makes you feel a little paralyzed.

you're actually, genuinely, sincerely about to go show off a goddamn maid outfit. what the hell.

when you finally grasp control over your vocal cords and part your lips to speak, the voice that spills out into the air sounds more than a little meek. but you can’t quite bring yourself to care, overcome by a heart-tingling nervosity and the heat of your skin.

 ”… i don’t want to.”

satoru pauses. 

he can picture you, in his mind’s eye; the way you must look, right now. clad in frills and a cute little skirt, face flushed red and embarrassed, as you shift from foot to foot. and it takes concentrated effort, to bite back the coo that threatens to crawl up his throat — but he knows it’s still not too late for you to change your mind. if he wants to see you, he needs to be careful. so he tactfully opts not to tease you.

”come on, angel,” he soothes, instead. voice smooth like honey, like coffee with cream and too much sweetener. ”don’t be embarrassed.”

you stay silent, still attempting to suffocate the tinge of humiliation in the depths of your chest. so satoru continues. ”just come on out, hm? might as well get it over with. then you won’t have to think of it again.”

a moment passes.

”… do i have to?”

the corners of his lips curl up.

ah, you’re so cute. all embarrassed, almost childish, in the way you’re still trying to be difficult; and satoru just indulges you, all too eager to get you to show yourself to him. ”yes, you do,” he coos. ”be good f' me and come on out, okay?”

a couple moments pass. eerily silent, growing second by second. the only sound that fills the air is that of satoru’s soft breathing, the distant whirring of the ceiling fan.

until finally, he hears the squeak of the bathroom floor. you stand up, turning to glance at your reflection in the mirror one last time, before hesitantly reaching for the doorknob.

it’s slow, the way you open the door, agonizingly so — pushing at it slightly and dragging the movement out. and you can feel satoru’s presence, right behind it, as he takes a step back to give you space. when you finally step over the threshold, you adamantly refuse to meet his gaze.

(satoru’s breath hitches in his throat.)

there you stand, gaze stubbornly averted, expression flustered and mildly annoyed. cheeks dusted a dark cherry-red, that crawls towards the tips of your ears as you fidget with your frilly, oversized sleeves. they’re dressed in little bows, awfully cute, and so is the skirt — short, but not enough to expose the skin of your thighs above the thigh highs. you still squirm a little, thighs pressed together. 

and then, of course, the big bow on your collar to complete the look. pink in colour, a stark contrast to the whites and blacks of the remaining outfit.

after a moment passes with nothing but pure silence, your lips part to speak. doing anything you can to stop yourself from looking over at the man in front of you, afraid of what you’ll see. ”i don’t think it suits me,” is muttered, a tiny huff. ”… and i still don’t see the appeal, by the way.”

— but satoru doesn’t answer. 

he just stares. uncharacteristically silent, in a way you’re wholly unaccustomed to. enough so that you find yourself gnawing at your bottom lip, fidgeting with the hem of the skirt, hoping the smooth texture will soothe your nerves a little. the beating of your heart resounds in your ears, sending blood flowing through your veins with excited pumps.

the silence festers, and all you can do is let it grow, your nervosity thickening with it — until it’s just too much to bear. 

(ahh, you knew it. it really does look weird, doesn’t it? that’s to be expected. 

still, you can’t help but feel just slightly dejected.) 

”… why aren’t you saying anything?” 

the little mumble comes out sounding embarrassed, and maybe just a little defeated, too. but satoru doesn’t hear it. as your gaze falls on the man in question, slowly, you take in his expression with a frown on your face — and realize that he isn’t just keeping quiet. 

he’s completely stunned. 

no matter how hard you stare, you can’t seem to get a good read on his expression. he’s just standing there, face completely blank, eyes entirely obscured by the black of his shades. the light streaming in through the glass of the windows has shifted its course, falling away from the two of you — but you still see the vague, red tinge crawling up his neck. 

and as soon as you spot it, satoru begins his descent.

crouching down to the floor, silently, he brings his hands up to cover his face. feet against the ground with his knees folded, pressed against his chest, stilling as he inhales sharply. shades seated on top of his head, pushed up by his hands when he buried his face in them. a groan drops from his lips, muffled by the skin of his palms — but you can hear it clear as day.

”hold on, just… give me a minute…” he finally croaks out, words somehow tiny. almost shy. 

upon closer inspection, you realize your eyes weren’t deceiving you — there really is a red hue to his neck, one you aren’t used to seeing on him. strawberry-tinged dust, staining his smooth skin, the tips of his burning ears. satoru actually looks flustered, for once. and your heart can’t help but flutter.

— he thinks he might actually, genuinely die.

it’s a wonder, he thinks, that he managed not to fall to his knees the very moment he laid eyes on you. all dolled up; frilly and cute, in his own words, though they don’t come even close to properly describing how adorable you look right now. with your flushed face, shy eyes, and all those little frills and bows adorning your dress. rendering him speechless, clogging up his throat with pure unbridled love. a mouthful of honey, too sweet for even him to swallow.

god. god. he really, really needs to pull himself together.

crouched down like this, face hidden behind his hands, he can physically feel himself grow more and more flustered. senses invaded by the sound of his heartbeat, deep and visceral, until it’s all he can hear — he knew you were going to look cute, obviously, but he was seriously underestimating you. your cuteness is lethal. 

even just the sight makes him weak in the knees. even just the thought of you makes him feel a little like his heart is attempting to break out of his chest. hurling itself at his ribcage with ferocious resolve, like he could keel over and die of heart failure at any given moment. he’s pleasantly surprised that he’s managed to suppress the loud squeal his body keeps trying to let out, honestly.

and while satoru struggles with his deep, internal turmoil, all you can do is watch. looking down at him with wide eyes, as his skin flushes a bright pink, like little chrysanthemums blooming from his neck up to his ears. 

yeah, you think, there’s no doubt about it. satoru is flustered. it’s not a side of him you get to see very often, so you can’t help but be just slightly caught off guard. staring at him silently, until you snap out of it, eyes simmering with something soft and delighted.

he’s so cute.

(and maybe, just maybe — it makes you want to tease him, a little bit.)

so you crouch down, facing him with your knees against your chest, jaw resting on your crossed forearms as you gaze at him. he’s still not looking at you, face hidden behind his palms, shying away from your view.

and then you sigh. the sound catches his attention, soft — and just a little bit dejected.

”… you’re the one who wanted me to wear it,” your lips curl down into a pout, ”and now you won’t even look at me?”

satoru stiffens. 

(you sound sad. you sound disappointed.)

slowly, he parts his fingers, desperate to soothe you — blue eyes peeking out through the gaps, as if the sight of you could blind him. he then proceeds to move his hands, tentative, laboured, like he’s dragging heavy weights off his body. like it’s a struggle. 

with his face finally exposed, all flushed and pretty, bright azure eyes stare at you; brimming with pure adoration. 

satoru exhales, almost shaky. he has to take another moment to simply look at you, as if drinking in every inch of your expression. memorizing every corner of the face he’s grown to love so much.

a moment passes. then two.

then, he practically pounces on you — engulfing you like a tidal wave, trapping you in his big arms as they go to curl around your waist. shades falling off at the impact, hitting the floor with a soft thunk.

”you’re killing me,” he whines, loud and right by your ear. nuzzling into you, squeezing you like he’s a puppy with a chew toy. ”you’re so, so, so cute. d’you want me to have a heart attack?”

a hitch of your breath. that’s all you can manage, utterly failing to keep up with him as he presses you up against his chest. rocking you back and forth in his embrace, smearing open mouthed kisses across your skin; whining and murmuring about how adorable you look. 

a flurry of warmth, of love, of something a little too precious for words. something distinctly satoru, that makes you forget about everything else — as if the world stops spinning somewhere outside of his arms. as if that’s where you belong.

all you can do is indulge him. maybe you’re spoiling him a little too much, but it feels nice; letting him drown you in his overwhelming affection. the thought of creasing the dress doesn’t even seem to cross his mind, as he squeezes the life out of you.

evidently, satoru suffers from an acute case of cuteness aggression. 

”so adorable,” he murmurs, leaving wet kisses on your cheeks. his exaggerated mwahs make you feel just a tad shy. ”my little sweetheart. all dressed up for me.” 

squirming in his hold, he only brings you closer, smothering you in his warm embrace. the slightly erratic beating of his heart is all you can hear, with your cheek squished against his chest. arms keeping you nice and still, lips lingering over that one ticklish spot behind your ear. 

a little giggle slips from your lips, and satoru feels himself smile; wide and giddy, boyish and adoring. nuzzling into the comfort of your chest, soft fabric brushing against his skin, a low whine escapes his throat. ”can't take it. wanna put you in my pocket.”

”your pocket?” a grin blooms on your lips, words dripping with honeyed amusement. satoru grins right back.

”my pocket,” he hums, approvingly. ”you’re just so cute and small. gotta keep you close, so i don’t lose you.”

a huff, lighthearted. 

suddenly, the grip around your midriff tightens — and you’re hoisted up, stumbling a little as satoru lets go of you. still holding onto you by your wrists, softly, delicately, as if you’re made of glass. when you lift your head, all you can see is his satisfied little grin, and the twinkle of his eyes.

your heart flutters. 

satoru gazes at you, silently, still drinking you in. every second spent staring into the brightness of your eyes fills his heart up just a little more; colourful, heart-shaped candies, scooped up and poured into the hole in his chest. patching it right back up, so effortlessly sweet that it makes him want to pluck every star from the sky and offer them at your feet. 

”alright,” he breathes, taking a step back. breaking the delicate silence, a little dance between him and time. fingers still curled around your wrist. ”do a twirl for me.”

a humoured scoff. ”hell no.”

”aw, come on! you gotta pose for the photo, baby.”

before you know it, satoru’s got his phone out — and it’s aimed right at you. by the time you notice it, you’re fairly certain he’s already managed to snap a couple pictures. so all you can do is sigh, in faux exasperation.

”c’mon, c’mon,” he coos. ”give me a smile, pretty.”

a roll of your eyes, as you bite your lip to muffle a soft bout of laughter. it doesn’t really work. ”i’m good.”

satoru seems unaffected by your words, pulling back from your touch reluctantly; just so he can make a show out of playing the cameraman, switching between elaborate positions and taking pictures from angle after angle. somehow, you get the feeling he’s forgotten your request to keep the pictures to a minimum.

(he looks like he’s having fun, though. so you let it slide. just this once.)

”god. you’re way too cute for your own good, you know that?” he murmurs, leaning down to take another picture. and it flusters you, how smoothly the words slip from his lips, how it seems like he barely even has to think about them at all. 

it’s a little embarrassing, in a heart-fluttering kind of way. but you do your best to hide it.

”you’re a sap,” is all you say, soft smile playing at your lips. 

”and you’re adorable,” satoru grins. 

then he slips his phone into his back pocket, satisfied with the collection, and grabs your hand.

his fingers curl around yours, softly — and then he lifts it up. bringing it to his lips. they’re warm, as he kisses across your knuckles, the tips of your fingers. soft as a feather, tickling your skin. 

(as if he’s whispering psalms under his breath. as if he’s worshipping you.)

then he tilts his head, eyes gazing at you sweetly. sweeter than fresh mandarin slices, splotches of marmalade, his favorite caramel fudge. and his eyes crinkle, crow’s feet and dimples peeking out as he smiles, an easygoing kind of joy blooming on that pretty face of his — youthful, boyish. it suits him more than anything.

his voice comes out smooth, awfully coaxing. so very easy to give in to, paired with that breathtaking grin. 

”one tiny twirl?” he asks, politely.

he’s so annoying. 

(but you’re far too in love to say no.)

so with a single roll of your eyes, and a soft little scoff, you relent. indulging him once more, just one more time. just one little twirl.

satoru feels his heart squeeze painfully, deep within his chest, as he watches you spin around. skirt and frills ruffled by the movement. just once, a soft little twirl with your fingers intertwined. far too precious for his heart to take.

when you stop, just a tiny bit dizzy, he leans in, and the kiss he leaves on your forehead is soft. chaste, but it still pulls a blissful sigh from the back of your throat. satoru’s lips curl up against your skin, before he pulls back — eyes almost overflowing with affection.

”cutie.”

you blink. 

averting your gaze, flustering a little under the weight of his love-filled eyes, all you can do is emit a soft little huff. embarrassed, as it flows from your lips. but it only makes satoru’s smile grow further.

”okay, okay. you’ve had your fun.” you clear your throat. ”time’s up.”

suddenly, satoru’s eyes fill with something akin to dread — nose crinkling, just barely, a sign of his displeasure. ”noooo,” he whines, draping his arms around you. tugging you close. ”just a little more? please? pretty please?”

”nope! we said ten minutes. no take backs.”

”can’t i have an extension? since i’m your favorite?” satoru pouts, puppy dog eyes in full force. only this time, they don’t work as well as he’d hoped.

”nope,” you repeat, popping the p. ”sorry.” another whine buzzes right by your ear, and you smile. 

”and then we’re burning it.”

”noooo!” 

”sorry, but it’s gotta go.” you bite back a soft grin. satoru sounds agonized, voice dripping with grief, and it makes your heart dance with barely contained laughter.

”but then you can’t wear it anymore, baby…”

”that’s kinda the point, toru.”

”but you’re so cute in it,” he pouts, bringing you closer still. squeezing at your waist and rubbing his cheek against the top of your head. ”it’d be such a waste if you never wore it again, don’tcha think?”

he’s trying his best, you can tell — attempting to make you falter, coax you into wearing it just a little longer. but for today, you’re done indulging him.

”well, too bad.” nuzzling into his neck, your tone settles on a firm tilt; decisive, as you nip at his skin. just a little teasing. ”i said i’d never wear it again, and i meant it.”

a moment passes. maybe it’s the warmth of your lips on his skin, or maybe he can tell you aren’t budging — whatever the case, satoru finally seems to relent. an exhale tumbles from his tongue, deep and drawn out. ”fineee,” he drawls. ”i’ll just buy you a new one.”

”i won’t wear it. i’ll just get angry.”

”at lil’ old me? really?”

”really really,” you click your tongue. ”if you love maid outfits so much, why don’t you wear one yourself?” a beat. ”it’d look good on you.”

satoru perks up, suddenly. pulling away so his eyes can meet yours, bright and teasing, glazed over with something excited. ”oh?” he purrs. ”you wanna see me in one, huh? so bold, baby.”

a scoff slips from your lips, sharp but tinged with laughter. ”well, it’s only fair, right?” grinning up at him, your hand reaches out to smooth away his bangs. fingertips trailing across the expanse of skin, touch so very tender that his eyes flutter shut. ”i think you’d pull it off better than i ever could, anyway.”

a hum buzzes in his throat, seconds ticking by slowly; a dance with him and time. an attempt to prolong the softness of the moment.

”hmm… well, i’ll consider it.” just barely holding back a smile, he leans into your touch. ”you gotta wear it with me, though. we can buy a matching set!”

”that makes no sense,” you huff, with a raise of your brow. ”i’ve already worn it once, so next time, it’s gotta be all you.”

”sorry, baby, but you need to do it too.” he cradles you close, smoothing a palm down your spine, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. chest rumbling with the smooth timbre of his voice, words rich with teasing fondness. ”i’m too shy to do it by myself.”

and you really, really wish you could be angry with him — but it’s just impossible. 

satoru is just way too lovable, smile far too sunny and warm for you not to melt under. and his caress says more than words ever could, light and doting, careful and loving; like how a believer cups a handful of holy water. as if you could slip from his grasp at any moment, so he has to keep you extra close.

in the end, all protests and complaints die on your tongue. you only laugh, soft and breathy, filling the air with a fondness so palpable you can almost taste it. bordering on something close to a scoff, but never quite getting there. 

eventually, satoru does — begrudgingly — let you change out of the outfit. whining a little, sulking a tad, before brightening right back up again. like clockwork, the sun peeking out after a rain shower, the calm after the storm. always that same happy smile, wrapping you around his little finger.

satoru, in all his glory; your very own pocket of sunshine. annoying, stubborn, thoughtful — 

and yours, wholly and thoroughly.

(while you’re busy gazing at him adoringly, satoru grumbles under his breath. contemplation painted on his features, as his mind spins in circles. frills, bows, lace…

what kind of design would make him look the prettiest for you?)

#satoru ”my girl look so good today im abt to scream and moan and throw up” gojo #he is so husband coded to me. so unbelievably babygirl #he would absolutely wear a maid dress if u asked him to btw. and he would rock that shit so hard. #just……. gojo in a dress………….. breathe if u agree #im a firm believer in flustered satoru also….. #it wouldnt happen often but if u act cute enough i just think smth in his brain stops working #and he grins rly wide and tries to cover his face w his hands so you wont see how much hes blushing. if u tease him more he squeaks #who said that. #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x you #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk #gojo fluff #jjk fluff

[akoyaxs]

˚༄ Tunutu ✮ Meaning: object of desire, crush ✮ Pairing: Aonung x fem!human reader ✮ Meaning: object of desire, crush ✮ Warnings: Reader POV, smutty smut smut,seemingly unrequited love, misunderstandings, size kink, oral sex, p in v, aftercare, fluffy fluff fluff, ✮ Word Count: 12.9k

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To be fair, the reef was different. 

At least in the Omatikaya village, the na'vi knew you weren't RDA, that you were only fascinated with their culture and wanting to help. The trouble was, what could one small human do to aid the massive, muscular na'vi who, at every turn, always seemed to be the ones to help you out. Which is why when Norm received a help call from Jake Sully, you automatically offered yourself up for the job.

You had grown up alongside the Sully kids, always growing smaller and smaller in their eyes. Now in adulthood, you were still trying to overcome their teasing that you were still barely above their hips in their more muscular, lithe bodies,

And since the absence of the Sullys and Spider, you hardly had a reason to come around the Omatikaya village anymore. Although the science compound was tedious and cagey at times, you had traded your beautifully beaded na'vi style tops and tewngs for more "appropriate clothing". It was probably more suitable too; the older you got, the less the na'vi clothes fit your stubbornly human body. At least you were larger than na'vi in one particular place.

But as you watched the science labs fade away through the perilously open side of the helicopter, the forest too replaced by a vast stretch of ever-deepening glistening ocean, you felt a small pang inside you. It's not like you were leaving any family or friend, they were not so quite waiting for you at the reef.

Which is when it happened. You saw him.

You were always much more interested in na'vi than humans, how could you not be when they were so much more muscular, smoother, and well, bigger. But you had never seen a reef na'vi before, and on the very off chance you had carelessly thought of the Metkayina, you had forgotten to factor in their physique.

He was taller than any other na'vi you'd ever seen, his whole body broad and muscular and massive, his very toned stomach tapering into a sluttily slim waist for such a broad man and a slight x shape to where his very prominent abs met his ribcage.

As the helicopter settled on the sand, surrounded by a crowd of extremely confused and intrigued Metkayina, he was helping Neteyam keep them back. You shook your head- this was hardly the time to be drooling over handsome new boys when Kiri needed help.

Jake was running over, shouting at Norm and pulling him into a quick hug before he spotted you. He looked tired and strained and stressed, yet still managed to smile and pull you into a hug, clearly forgetting that you're a human and half-crushing you to death.

"Good to see you kid," he grins. "Well, you're hardly a kid anymore."

You had tried to help carry some of the boxes in, yet they were sized for Jake and Norm, and you were quickly left aone by the helicopter, surrounded by curious na'vi. You could tell no one saw you as a threat by the way they stared, as though you were something exotic and adorable and even amusing.

Moreover, you could feel his eyes on you, more weary and suspicious and almost taunting than his people, and you swallowed heavily before nervously making your way through the crowd and following the shapes of Jake and Norm ahead.

So maybe you hadn't had a great start with the mystery guy from the way he was staring, but you soon met him again when Ronal pulled you aside and into a marui.

There he was, standing between who was clearly Tonowari and a sweet-looking shorter girl.

"Oel ngati kameie," you said nervously, apprehensively gesturing and praying to Eywa that your voice didn't actually sound as timid and squeaky as it seemed to yourself.

The Olo'eyktan and the girl looked pleased, but he just continued to blankly and shamelessly stare at you, until your throat felt dry and the silence was starting to make you want to cry. But you refused to play into either of the roles na'vi assume of humans; the evil, power-hungry, trigger-happy demons, or the tiny timid pushovers.

"Jake Sully has requested you stay with us," Ronal finally said. "He believes you could be useful to the Metkayina."

"Well," you say, throat dry and desperately trying to keep your voice steady under the eyes of the four Metkayina. "I'm good at healing- I learnt much from the Omatikaya Tsahìk."

"This is my daughter Tsireya," Tonowari said, looking pleased with you. "She will help accustom you to our village, as well as my son, Aonung."

Instantly Aonung's eyes narrowed, and you feel your heart thud a little at the annoyance on his face at the instruction of him spending time with you.

"Father, first the Sullys and now a tawtute-"

"It is decided," Tonowari cut his son off. "The Sullys may assist you as well, and Toruk Makto tells me you are to have a human home on the edge of the village."

And that was that, apparently. No one asked you if you wanted to suddenly live in the reef, yet you had the Sullys and that was all that mattered. The small human area was hidden in the small forest beside a river and behind the Metkayina village, which was fair given the aesthetic monstrocity of it.

It was another horribly shiny metal demountable shared between you and Spider, each of you owning your own small room with a tiny cupboard, rickety bed and nothing more, and sharing a small space between.

Soon after you moved in, you could hardly get Lo'ak to move out, him and Spider always playing stupid video games and eating the shitty food you had hoarded, yet you took every chance to get outside.

It's not like you ever did much, you even managed to go the first few months without swimming or being in swimmers in front of all these beautiful na'vi, but you were determined to prove yourself.

So day after day, you worked endlessly on anything you could find to be helpful. You quickly learnt the new herbs for healing and how to navigate the bouncy village suspended over the water. You also found out the na'vi women loved your weavings and beadings, your "tiny hands" able to create very intricate works in proportion to their larger bodies.

And you found that Metkayina men were extremely intrigued by you.

You wondered if maybe Spider had blabbed to someone about you, about your greater attraction to na'vi than humans, because you suddenly found the healing marui that you often worked in when Ronal couldn't strangely often occupied by men with injuries that could have easily been healed at home or better treated by Ronal herself.

You also didn't miss their comments about the coverage of your clothing, about how small you were and the softness of your tawtute skin.

Okay so yes, maybe you were secretly crushing hard on Aonung, but the Olo'eyktans son treated you with amusement and cockiness when you happened to interact with him every now and then. So of course you were flattered by the attention of the broad strong Metkayina, and a woman has needs.

All the sexual interactions you share with the Metkayina range from adequate to somewhat satisfying, but the longer you stay in Awa'atlu and the more female friends you make, the more you hear.

All the village girls seem to talk about is Aonung, the prince of the clan. He's not exactly selective about the women he spends his time with, but his precious company is so apparently mind-blowing and pleasurable that it seems to be the most valued thing on the island.

Which is fine.

He obviously doesn't like you that much, and you'd probably have to fight off fifty village girls for that attention from him anyway. He never bothered to accustom you to the village, rather staring and glaring from the back or side as Tsireya befriended you. 

And you definitely didn't make an effort to get him to look at you. No, your increasingly smaller outfits are a reflection of your growing comfort in the village and the hot temperatures of the reef. The other villagers liked your outfits though, even if they did find it strange, often asking why you wore such large clothing. So you started to phase out the cargos and massive jumpers with flowy skirts and tighter tops.

Besides, you have options, even if all your admirers are only seeking the thrill and adventure and tightness of being with a tawtute.

A shout of laughter from outside brings you back to attention, and you set down the paste you had been mixing on a small table before quietly moving over to peek out. Just as you stick your small head out, you find yourself suddenly bumped backwards as several figures walk into the healing marui.

Folding your arms and frowning at the rowdy boys, you watch them as they comfortably space out around the marui. You recognise them instantly- the three skxawngs that Aonung always seemed to hang out with.

"Can I help you?" you ask, trying not to raise your brows when Koro laughs and shoves Nashvi forward to speak to you.

"Yeah," Nashvi grins stupidly. "Us and Aonung were out by the reef when an akula attacked, and we got a few injuries."

You can't help raising your brows at this. There are only several small scratches across the boys bodies, the worst only looking five inches long on Ongu's leg. But you have a job, and you aren't about to refuse to help Aonung's friends.

"Alright, sit down," you say tiredly, reaching up to lightly lead Nashvi to the woven mat you heal on.

As you turn to gather some more ointment, you can hear the three boys chuckling stupidly behind you, but when you turn, their smiles are quickly hidden and they don't make eye contact with each other. Shrugging off your discomfort and annoyance, you lift up Nashvi's hair to apply the ointment to the scratches on his back.

They are not easy patients. They're whiny when you touch their miniscule, pointless little scratches, and they chuckle and grin shiftily at each other every time you move. It's an awkward interaction with each, and finally you can't take the silence anymore.

"What were you doing out by the reef?" you ask, in a desperate attempt to make conversation.

"Aonung wanted to hunt," Koro shrugs.

"Where is Aonung?"

They all grin again at your question, and you straighten up and frown.

"Missing your boyfriend are you?" Ongu leers.

You straighten up instantly, a frown fixed on your small face and your fist clenched slightly around the bowl.

"What are you talking about?" you say coolly, turning away from the boys under the pretence of collecting more herbs to add to the ointment.

"You're pining after him," Koro grins. "It's so obvious, all the little looks you shoot him, batting your eyelashes whenever he's around. You're so cool and all with other guys, but as soon as Aonung's around you're acting like a little lovestruck prolemuris."

"I do not," you say hotly, forgetting to act cool and hide the deep flush across your cheeks.

"Please," Nashvi scoffs. "You couldn't be more obvious if you tried."

Your face is growing hotter and hotter, and when you turn around, you find that the three boys have crept slightly closer, so now you're stuck between them.

"I don't have a crush on Aonung," you lie, knowing full well that you aren't convincing anyone. "I don't even like him."

"These little outfits say otherwise," Koro grins, reaching out to pinch your hip.

You jerk away from the contact, the bare skin of your hip between your top and low skirt burning slightly from his touch and the accusation of his words.

"Fuck off," you grumble, pushing at his hands as he reaches towards you again.

"What happened to the sweet little girl whenever he's around?"

"She's about to do worse than those little scratches if you don't stop touching me," you growl, hoping you sound braver than you feel. Hot mortification is spreading through your body. Had you really been that obvious? Koro, Ongu and Nashvi are just laughing stupidly, watching you grow more and more flustered as you try to figure out what to say, or at least how to get away.

"You are rude skxawngs," you snap. "I helped you out, now leave me alone."

"Why?" Nashvi grins. "We're just having a little fun with you, tawtute."

"Why do you wear such big clothes anyway?" Ongu leers. "I know they're getting smaller for Aonung, but if you want his attention you should just take it all off."

You growl as they reach for your clothes again.

"Tell Aonung that-"

"Tell me what?" a deep voice says from the entrance.

Immediately, all four of your gazes flick to see Aonung leaning against the entrance, a small frown pinching between his brows as he stares at his friends.

"That you need to find better friends," you huff, reaching to flatten your hair and pull your skirt down.

"She's just being grumpy," Koro laughs. "We were having a fun conversation with her."

"Yeah, it was real fun," you snap, flushing crimson as Aonung's gaze flicks back to you. "Especially when you kept touching me."

Aonung's frown deepens when you feel his gaze pass over the redness their pinches left over your hip, and you brush your hair out of your face.

"Okay, I fixed up your little scratches," you scowl to Koro, Ongu and Nashvi, as Aonung just stares dully at you. "You can fuck off now."

"Careful with your mouth," Nashvi grins. "You aren't as attractive when you aren't smiling, tawtute."

"Get out," you growl, straightening to your full height, but still shorter than their crouched figures.

They just laugh stupidly, and you're growing more and more flustered and annoyed. You are torn between wanting to shout and curl up in a ball and cry until they get uncomfortable and leave, when Koro pulls the last straw.

"It's a shame that such a pretty little thing has no humour," he grins to his friends. "You know I'd-"

"Out," you shout.

They don't look at all as though they're going to leave, but then Aonung shoots them a certain sort of look you miss, because your heart is pounding fast and angry tears are stinging your eyes.

You're mortified, that they knew about your crush, that they managed to get so far under your skin, that everyone had so little respect for you that they only listen when Aonung tells them to do something.

As they file out, you can hear them snickering to each other, and their gazes blazing on your bowed head as they walk away. 

"You can leave too," you say off-handedly, turning away so your back is to Aonung.

"Oh?" Aonung asks, his voice deep and amused. "You're going to kick me out of my own mum's marui?"

"Yes," you grumble, sitting down and glaring at him. "You're a grown man Aonung, you can fuck off out of your mummies hut."

"Also your Olo'eyktan," he points out.

"Not yet," you seethe.

Aonung just laughs, his massive body still leaning against the entrance as he stares down at you, blue eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Are you alright?" he asks, once he stops laughing. You frown at the slight concern in his voice before glaring up at him.

"Yes I'm fine," you snap. "Now are you done?"

Aonung just stares for a few more seconds before he pushes off the wall and walks over to you. 

Oh Eywa's just playing a fucking game with you right now. Aonung reaches out, lightly taking your small head in his hand and gently tilting your face up towards him with a soft hand.

"Is what they said true?" he asks quietly. 

"Aren't you the one that finds my crush obvious as fuck?" you snap.

But you don't pull away, and you both know it. Instead, you just stay put little a stupid good girl and stare up at him, waiting for what he's about to do.

"I'm fucking pathetic, I know," you whisper. "I have to work my ass off just to get the tiniest bit of recognition, and this is the longest we've ever spoken. All you do is glare at me from other sides of the village, and I still liked you."

"You're not," Aonung says. "Pathetic, I mean. They're just skxawngs."

"They're your friends," you point out. "They're the ones that knew I liked you, that just come and fucking taunt me and touch me and-"

"Let me see," Aonung cuts you off.

You scowl at him and try to push him away, but he just easily grabs your wrist and peers around you to see your hips, where the mark is still red against your skin.

"It's not a big deal," you growl. "I just don't need shit for having a stupid crush. No one ever needed to know and it wasn't hurting anyone. If I knew what skxawngs you and your friends are, I'd never like you."

"This skirt is thin," is all Aonung says. "And short. Tawtute clothing is strange, but this one is small compared-"

"It was for you!" you snap. "All the stupid dressing up and acting nice and being sweet and trying to be pretty just so you would stop glaring and look at me for ONCE!"

Aonung's frown deepens slightly, like he's confused, like you aren't making any sense. Stupid alien boys, so oblivious to everything around them.

"I am looking at you," he says quietly.

"No," you hiss. "You're looking down on me like always, just because I'm a human-"

Your voice dies in your throat when Aonung instantly sits beside you, his hands picking you up as though you weigh nothing and placing you gently in his massive lap.

Your faces are a foot apart, your hands immediately falling to his shoulder to steady yourself, an unnecessary action given that he's easily holding you by your waist. 

"Better?" he asks sincerely, as though he genuinely thought this would help.

You can hardly breathe over the pounding of your heart. You are nervous and pissed and terrified and also fucking horny.

Oh Eywa, how is he doing this- just instantly making you forget everything that happened by placing you on his lap and staring at you with those large blue eyes.

"What are you doing here Aonung?" you say tiredly.

His ears prick up at the sound of his name, the first time he's heard you speak it. You can hardly miss the sway of his tail behind you.

"Injury," he shrugs.

You scoff, and he turns to frown at you.

"I am injured," he frowns. "I went to my mother and she told me to come to you."

"She did?" you ask, confused. "If you're hurt, why would she tell you to come to me?"

"So I could hear your great love confession?" Aonung shrugs, eyes sparkling with amusement.

You growl and make to stand up, but his hands keep you firmly planted in his lap.

"Trying to leave now?" he asks. "Don't you want to help me paksalin?"

"Don't call me that," you hiss. 

"You don't like it?" Aonung asks, looking confused.

"You're being mean," you say finally. "Everyone was right about you- you're a skxawng playboy."

"Playboy?" Aonung asks, sounding out the human word with confusion.

"Yeah," you say. "Like a slut."

Aonung laughs in surprise, brows raising at your annoyance with him.

"I thought you were all meek and sweet," he says finally.

"Not anymore," you grumble. "Cat's out of the bag sweetie, so I can go back to being a bitch again. Now let me go so I can help you out."

To your surprise, he instantly obeys, letting his arms drop to his sides so you can clamber out of his lap and collect your paste again. When you turn back, you notice the injury.

"You're hurt."

It's a blunt statement, and you're pointing out the obvious. Aonung has a no shit sort of look on his face, before he notices your concern.

"It's alright," he says gently. "I just got a little scraped by the akula."

"Aonung, there's an akula tooth stuck in your arm," you say, instantly kneeling beside him.

"There is?" he says, sounding interested. "Huh."

"Huh?" you hiss incredulously. "There is a three inch tooth stuck in your arm and you say HUH?"

Aonung just shrugs, and you crouch down to study it, before gently cleaning it up. He hisses a little when you first wipe over the wound, but he just grits his teeth and sits still with patience his skxawng friends could never possess.

"I should probably take this out," you say, once you've wiped all the blood that you can manage to, and placing a comforting, steady hand on the strong muscles of his shoulder.

"Fine," he grumbles.

"I'll be gentle," you promise. "It'll come nice and easy."

"That's what I want to hear," he says, smirking.

Your mouth parts in amused incredulity, and you lightly smack his shoulder as he turns his head to grin cheekily at you.

"Stay still," you instruct. "Straighten up like this, and try not to move too much. Now, just breathe."

Trying to ignore the very persistent flow of blood as you gently grab the top of the tooth, you start to very slowly pull it out.

"Ow," he hisses, his hand instantly jumping to take yours.

"Sorry," you say, giving his own hand a reassuring squeeze, and he quickly shakes his head and swallows.

"I'm all good, just pull it out fast."

"That's what I want to hear," you ask teasingly, and he laughs a little.

His laugh quickly turns into a groan of pain as you use his amusement as a distraction and yank the tooth out.

"Fuck," he hisses under his breath.

"Good job," you say, as though you're treating a child and patting his head like a good boy. "Here, you can keep the tooth as a souvenir."

"Tawtute," he says gently, before you can leave. 

"Yeah?"

"You aren't pathetic, liking me-"

"Yeah, you're very handsome and cool and hot, I get it," you say, rolling your eyes. "Listen Aonung."

And he does, looking up at you like a little puppy sitting on the woven floor, waiting patiently for you to speak.

"I never thought anything would come out of my crush, and I don't expect anything to come out of it. I'll get over it, just please, forget about it."

Aonung's slowly frowning.

"Tawtute, then what about the others?"

"What others?" you sigh, eager to get away and just disappear into your bed forever.

"I hear stuff too," Aonung shrugs. "From other guys."

"Like who?" you snap, growing more and more impatient.

It's like he's a little child sometimes, trying to figure out what he wants to say and then actually speaking the words, as though every sentence is taking every fibre of his being to utter.

"Ta'ru, Moy'ka, Khalo," Aonung shrugs. At that, your eyes widen and your face flushes. Those names are extremely familiar, ones that may be found at the bottom of my little black book.

"Oh my god," you groan, covering your face so he won't see your desperate flush.

"They seemed to really like you as well," Aonung grins. "Heard that you can be a feisty little-"

You glower at him and he cuts himself off with a shameless shrug, as though he knows you can't be mad at him.

"Fuck off Aonung," you snarl. "Just because I had a crush on you doesn't mean I'm gonna take shit from you."

"I'm just saying," the Metkayina shrugs. "You have excellent taste in men, but why are you messing around with the likes of Ta'ru and Moy'ka?"

"Well I don't have too many options, do I?" you growl. "How do you think it feels to be someone who's only options are only seeking the thrill and adventure and tightness of being with a tawtute?"

Aonung pauses, like he hadn't thought about it like that. You know he didn't mean to offend, just tease and taunt you just as he had with Lo'ak and Kiri when they first arrived in Awa'atlu, but his words stung deep.

You couldn't just mess around with anyone you liked, because really you only liked him and he knew that, and that pissed you off more than anything else.

"Just pull your massive head out of your skxawng ass for two seconds and see that not everyone has admirers falling out of the sky and at their fucking feet all the time, that I have to work tirelessly to prove myself and that the only release I can scrounge up is with the likes of Ta'ru and Moy'ka!"

You sigh heavily, not exactly regretting raising your voice at Aonung, yet it didn't bode well that you just insulted and shouted at the future Olo'eyktan.

Aonung is just watching you, his large blue eyes flicking over your agitated face, flushed deep pink and your smaller, duller eyes stinging with furious, mortifying tears.

You can't bear the pity in his eyes, can't bring yourself to listen to whatever he's about to say when he opens his mouth.

"I have worked enough today," you say stiffly, careful to act with appropriate respect, "tell your mother I went home and I'll need more pearls and shells for the beadings."

"Tawtute-"

You quickly turn, hating yourself for your timid, cowardly retreat from the hut with his ocean eyes fixed directly onto you, and slip off through the village.

For a moment, you think he might have tried to follow you by the creaking of the woven village pathway behind you, but you quickly manage to slip between maruis and bustling Metkayina and leave the village.

You can feel your heart pounding loudly, everything so awkwardly silent as you run towards your monstrocity of a home that you feel completely alone in the forest.

Spider isn't there when you fling open your door and bury your face in your pillow. 

You just sit in silence, face-down and not bothering to take off your expopack yet. 

Fuck, you messed up.

You confessed your crush, then flirted with him, then shouted at him, then ran away like the tiny coward the na'vi assume of humans.

Fuck Aonung.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

So maybe you actually were a tiny coward. Yes, you were a fiesty, flaming bitch at heart, but when it came down to the mortification you had faced in that marui with Aonung, not even your sheer stubbornness and determination to shout down anyone in your path could make you leave your home.

So, shamefully, the next days passed with you cooped up in your tiny home, back to wearing your massive ass jumpers over your lazy loungewear. Spider and Lo'ak didn't question your state - you suspect they know exactly what happened - they just moved over on the worn, already cramped sofa and passed you another remote.

The days were considerably shorter than normal when you're self isolating in what is basically a small tin shack, eating shitty food and binging hours of trashy television in the discomfort of your rickety bed.

Which is why, on the fourth morning away from the Metkayina village, you weren't at all surprised to hear the shouts of Spider and Lo'ak's familiar laugh from outside.

You had lazily woken up late in your bra and comfy, heart-patterned boy-short pyjamas that barely covered half your ass and thrown on your massive jumper, which hung a third of the way to your knees, grumbling to yourself that there were the boys outside and you couldn't just spend the rest of the day in your underwear.

When you finally left your room and stomped out to make a coffee in the tiny, tinny kitchen, you were too tired and uninterested to notice the suspiciously gleeful looks shot in your direction.

"Morning," Spider finally chirps.

"Is it?" you grumble, not looking up at your roommate as you slump into the creaky chair by the bench and dully watch the coffee drip monotonously into your chipped, yellowed mug.

Lo'ak snickers at your slumped back as you don't bother turn around to look in their direction.

"Someone's here for you," Spider grins, and you can hear the barely concealed amusement in his voice as you roll your eyes.

"I don't feel being squashed between your and Lo'ak's fat asses and playing video games right now," you sigh. "I can't be fucked for another day spent moping on that old, shitty sofa."

"Aw, is the little tawtute still upset about her little crush on the Metkayina prince?"

"Hardly," you scoff.

You snatch your chipped mug from the machine and just resigning yourself as the coffee continues to drip down onto the tinny bench, no longer having the patience for the infuriatingly slow drip of your greatest necessity before continuing.

"I should have realised what a cocky, brainless, dull, oblivious, pestering, rude, taunting, tiny-dick skxawng-"

"Hey," a deep voice protests from the sofa. 

A very familiar voice.

With a surge of horror and a deep desire to strangle and castrate Lo'ak and Spider, you see Aonung grinning at you.

Fuck, how can he manage to look good here, cramped in this ridiculously small shack that barely even fits you, in the horribly white light that flickered every five damn minutes and sprawled casually on that worn old couch?

His large blue eyes are glittering with amusement, looking large and more muscular than ever in the tiny living room.

"What are you doing here?" you breathe, torn between annoyance with the three skxawngs grinning at you, a desire to storm back into your room with your coffee and slam the door in their faces, and a conflicted delight and slight surge of desire at Aonung here in your house.

"Lo'ak asked me if I wanted to play video games," Aonung shrugs.

Lo'ak just rolls his eyes and says, "No, I said you'd been in your room for the last few days playing video games with us when he asked me why you hadn't been coming around the village. Then he said he'd never played video games, and I said I was coming here again, and then the skxawng just decided to come along."

"Right," Aonung concludes, shooting Lo'ak a scathing look.

"Right," you say too, unimpressed and unconvinced. "Well it's a bit cramped in here. Maybe you should leave."

"No, we'll go," Spider grins, nudging Lo'ak, who also smirks. "You guys have fun, and make good choices!"

"Spider!" you hiss, but your two ridiculously infuriating friends had already extricated themselces from the demountable and disappeared between the sparse forest that hid your human home. You can hear their snickers as they move towards the village and away from the situation they left you in.

Some friends.

You huff an annoyed sigh before lifting your coffee to your lips and taking a small sip. You are staring directly at Aonung, who's shifting slightly on the couch, but you're determing to not back down this time.

Mostly because there's nowhere left your you to run away and hide, now that Aonung has invaded your home.

There's a few moments of tense silence where you continue to sip your coffee and coldly study him.

"I brought you shells pearls," Aonung blurts, nose scrunching slightly.

You raise your brows at him, surprised that he caved to your silent coldness so fast. When you don't reply, he continues.

"Like you asked. Before you left. You told me that you needed more pearls and shells for your beading... so I thought... maybe..."

At your continued cool silence, Aonung trails off. You're surprised to see a faint purple tinge to his handsome face. 

Is he blushing? Is he nervous?

At this realisation, that the cocky prince of the clan in front of you was nervous because of you, an idea clunks into place.

A risky idea for sure, but it was hardly like you could get any more mortified, and an opportunity like this, to have Aonung like this, didn't come every day.

"Why are you here?" you ask dully, finally setting your coffee down with a decisive chink and pinning him under the full attention of your gaze.

"I - um - brought you the shells and pearls-" he starts to say.

"Not because of the shells and pearls."

It wasn't a question, it was a statement. An obvious statement, at that.

"Or the video games," you add, eyes narrowing slightly. "Why are you here, Aonung?"

"You haven't been coming around the village," he swallows. 

"I've been busy,"you shrug.

You're horribly aware that your hair is a mess, that you are wearing nothing but a bra and practically underwear under your massive jumper.

Aonung also seems to notice your sloppy and careless appearance, or at least your hair (you pray to Eywa he doesn't notice your clothing, or lack thereof) but he doesn't point your laziness out, which is wise of him.

He reaches for the mask Lo'ak often uses and takes a deep inhale. 

"My mother wishes you come back soon," Aonung mutters.

"And you?" you ask coolly. "Ronal would have told me herself- she has no qualms with coming to visit me here by the river. So what do you want?"

A heartbeat of silence. Aonung blinks. You raise your brows.

"I'm sorry."

The words hang in the air for a moment, trapped, no doubt, between the stifling walls of the ridiculously small room, between you seated at the rickety table and Aonung's much larger, stronger body seated at the peeling sofa.

"It's probably good you weren't around the village lately," Aonung says offhandedly, his voice growing somewhat stronger as you don't yell at him again. "Koro, Ongu and Nashvi were in need of some healing."

"From what?" you roll your eyes. "A prolemuris bite? A stubbed toe?"

"Well," Aonung says, looking more encouraged now, "someone may have beat them up a little for teasing and taunting and being skxawngs."

You look up at that, and find an adorably self-pleased expression on Aonung's face.

"And why would someone do that?" you ask.

"Maybe they wanted to show they were sorry?" Aonung grins. "And they knew it would take more than shells and pearls for forgiveness."

"Why do you want forgiveness?" you sigh, leaning forward on the table to stare better at him.

Aonung sits up and shifts on the sofa, clearly making room for you.

You aren't sure you want to, unsure what will happen if you're that close to him, but you can't help it.

Despite your pretences of confidence and annoyance with him that veneered your facade of sweetness and kindness you had hoped would gain his attention and even affection, you were just a people pleaser. 

And all you really wanted was to please Aonung.

So you picked yourself off, leaving your coffee to grow cold and doubtless forgotten about on the creaky table.

You settled into the sofa besides Aonung, trying to ignore how annoyingly, incredibly, deliciously massive he is as he blinks down at you.

"You are small," he says. "And meek yet furious at the same time. I can't figure you out at all, and you intrigue me, tawtute."

"How flattering," you say dully, and Aonung frowns, as though that was not the reaction he was expecting. "If you fought Ongu and Nashvi and Koro then why aren't you injured?"

"I'm a good fighter?" Aonung shrugs, looking pleased with himself.

You know that well- the Metkayina training grounds for warriors were across from the village, and the closest marui to it was the healing one you often occupied, given that most injuries came from the warriors.

So when you could get away with it, you would peek out the entrance of the healing marui to watch the warriors train. All large muscular men and lithe beautiful women. But no matter who you distracted yourself with, your eyes would always drift back to Aonung.

The way his jokey demeanour vanished the instant he had an opponent, the swiftness of each of his calculated movements, the way you knew, even though you could never hear, that he was taunting and glaring and ridiculing his opponent between powerful blows.

It attracted you more than you'd like to admit, the way he was effortlessly than the others, the ease with which he could toss his opponents around. And when he won, his muscles gleaming with laborious perspiration and a grin fixed on his handsome face...

It was all very attractive.

"Yes yes," you say instead, biting your cheek to stop from rolling your eyes. "You're very strong and incredible."

"You don't sound convinced," Aonung narrows his eyes at you.

You squint back. He really is brainless, just a pretty hunk.

You said what you said and you meant it - and now you don't need him acting all confused when you don't fawn all over him, batting you eyelashes and twirling your hair and practically sucking his dick.

It really is a cocky, brainless, dull, oblivious, pestering, rude, taunting, tiny-dick skxawng thing for him to do - finally speaking to you, looking at you, even trying to flirt with you just as you decide to let it go, set your sights away from him.

So you straighten up to your full height, still several feel smaller even sitting down, and wait as he opens his mouth.

"You confuse me tawtute," Aonung admits.

"No shit, given that you have as many braincells as men I can pull," you mutter, raising your brows at him.

Aonung huffs in annoyance, and you fold your arms further.

"Bold of you," you scowl. "To act like you're the annoyed one after the other day."

"Well," Aonung huffs, blinking furiously, looking torn between confusion and continued, unjust annoyance.

"Well what?" you snap. "Whenever I'm around the village I'm just the tawtute, and now you come into my house, the only place I can just relax-"

"This is my village," Aonung says stiffly.

You blink.

"Oh," you seethe. "So that's what this is about."

"What?"

"That the entitled Olo'eyktan's son is shocked to have someone tell him how it is, to not be beloved and cherished all the fucking time, to not have someone sucking his dick every-"

"I wouldn't protest," Aonung shrugs, smirking down at you before taking another breath from the mask.

You blink again. Just as you think you've called him out, that maybe a word you say will manage to penetrate through that perfect hair and gorgeous head of his- he manages to prove you wrong.

You just growl in irritation and stand back up, storming back towards your room and not bothering to turn back to him.

As you predicted, your coffee lies cold and dreary and lonesome, forgotten on that creaky table in your irritation with him and his stupid damn confusion with you.

"You can let yourself out."

But he doesn't, he just follows you into your room as you flop down onto your bed.

You glare at him, shocked that he has that much nerve to follow you into your room when you clearly don't want to see him.

Spider definitely wouldn't be brave enough to bother you right now, and Lo'ak or Neteyam probably would also be apprehensive.

But cocky, stubborn Aonung just ducks his massive frame through the doorway - a tight squeeze but he somehow manages - and peers hazily around your room.

Of course, the demountable you and Spider call home was built with Jake and Norm in mind, yet Aonung's head was taller than both other men, his braided bun inches away from scraping the ceiling. 

From the bed you continue to glare at him, silent and glowering as he raises his eyebrows at the underwhelming room.

"So this is your room?" he asks, eyes darting back to you. "I always imagined it more..."

There's apparently no words his five brain cells can find, and you roll your eyes again.

"Not everyone can live in the nicest marui in the village," you point out. "Not everyone can live in the village at all.

Aonung sighs again, before his eyes light up and he spots something.

"Don't touch my stuff," you grumble, but he's already stooping his massive body to something.

"What is this?" he asks earnestly.

"What is what-" you snap, before your eyes widen in horror and your mouth parts in silent mortification.

Looking comically small in his ridiculously large hands is your underwear. And to your absolute fucking horror, it just has to be your smallest thong, black and delicate and a little lacy.

"Give that here," you huff, instantly leaping up and trying to snatch it back. Aonung's grin only widens when he realises what it is, and you think you could die of mortification right then and there on your bedroom floor in front of the metkayina prince.

"How come you never wore this around the village?" Aonung chuckles, easily holding it up from your limited reach. "I can promise you, this would grab much more attention than your other tawtute clothing."

You attempt to snatch it back again, face flushed to a deep red now, and he just laughs again.

He looks down at you and frowns at the massive jumper hanging halfway to your knees. 

"And why are you back to wearing those cloaks and blankets?"

"It's a jumper," you say hotly, feeling your face flush that the realising that Aonung had noticed you, or at least the difference between short skirts and tanks and your oversized "blankets".

"And it's comfy, much more so then all the little stuff I tried before."

Aonung just huffs slightly, eyes trailing shamelessly over you again.

"Spider wears a tewng," Aonung reasons. "Besides, these things are much smaller than out clothing anyway."

You gape and shove at him. Predicably, his massive body doesn't move in the slightest. Aonung frowns, and you can guess what he's thinking.

Na'vi are completely comfortable in their bodies- which is easy when they're all slim and muscular and tall and perfect.

You on the other hand, are not. You aren't big by human standards by any means, yet the love and affection you harboured for your body when with the humans had slightly dissipated when surrounded by gorgeous na'vi all the time.

So even though you have put in the efforts to dress for attention, you were always careful not to show too much, which is what stirred the attention of the other male na'vi.

What lay below the strange tawtute clothing- what is so much softer and curvier than na'vi women that you keep teasing them with, yet keep tantalisingly hidden.

But then a thought occurs to you, and it makes you... more interested, or so to speak.

Aonung is curious about you- and you know what you want. It's not like you're expecting anything beyond sex- even that is a stretch -with the handsome, desirable na'vi man.

It's not every day you have this opportunity, to have Aonung like this, all curious about you for the first time since you arrived in the reef, despite months of hoping desperately he'd at least look at you.

So the idea forms in your head, the way you can finally get the Metkayina princes attention.

He is intrigued by you, and you have no hesitation to assume that means in the same lustful, experimentative way other na'vi men have been.

"Why?" you grin. "Do you want to see me in it?"

Aonung freezes. His eyes gaze from the tiny thong to you and back to the skimpy, lacy black material.

"I- if you'd like," he says off-handedly, and you smile to yourself.

He's right where you'd like him. Tantalised by the offer you pose, intrigued by what you've hinted but hidden since you've arrived in the reef.

So slowly, he sinks onto your bed and you slide away the little boy-short pyjamas you had been wearing under the jumper.

"Do you-"

You cut Aonung off with a sly grin, slowly lifting your the sides of your large jumper.

"No need sweetheart," you grin. "I'm already wearing some."

Aonung's ears flatten instantly at the word sweetheart, one you know he doesn't understand judging from his expression trying to interpret if that's a good or bad thing.

But then his eyes fall onto you, and you automatically find his hands on your hips and tugging you closer.

And you know you didn't make a mistake.

He lets out a small hiss, as though he didn't even notice he did, at the sight of your body from underneath your massive jumper.

None of the na'vi - besides your casual partners - had ever seen you in something this small before.

None had seen the squidge of your ass and thighs, the smooth supple skin cloaking your curves.

The men had said it all before- how soft you are, how small you are, just how much give you have.

Na'vi women are all lean muscle, yet the pure humanity of your body lies in the squishiness of it, in your ass and thighs and chest and stomach in ways na'vi would never have.

And then Aonung's hands are on you, kneading your ass, eyes staring down at the way your body moves and jiggles with his slightest touch, pupils blown wide as they are when na'vi make tsaheylu.

It's something that never ceases to send a shiver through you - the awe and delight and worship with which na'vi seem to find in your strange squishy body, 

Then he's looking at you, and his usually baby blue eyes are dark and rough like the deep oceans. It's exactly what you were hoping for, the hunger and desire in his handsome face as he stares, seated but still slightly taller on your bed. 

"Take this off."

It isn't a question or a request, it's a fucking order. For the first time, it strikes you that he really is going to be Olo'eyktan, just by the forceful defiance in his deep voice fuelled by his sudden interest.

Hook, line, and sinker.

You push away slightly and he's frowning like drawing away from him is a goddamn dereliction.

Aonung's impatient, no sooner have you lifted up your jumper over your waist when he's tearing it up and over your shoulders and tossing it into the corner of the room.

"Pxasìk," he mutters, staring straight at you.

It's in no means meant to be a sexy outfit, just a simple thong and bra, but the way Aonung just stares at you is like he's seeing something completely new.

He's not foreign to females- you'd heard quite enough tales about his various exploits, but he looks like a teenage boy seeing his first pair as his gaze flicks up to your face, then he reaches out.

His hands are just this side of too rough, and you can almost feel yourself melting away in his hands that are larger than your head.

You let out a small whimper as he squeezes, and you feel the last strings of his restraint snaps.

Aonung finally picks you up, one hand holding you up by the waist. His casual display of strength is fucking dizzying, and you feel yourself getting wet before he crashes his lips onto yours and drops you in the nest of his lap.

Kissing is not something you are accustomed to when you need to wear your expopack all the fucking time, and you're half terrified about how the last time you kissed someone was a human scientist at least a year ago.

But it's hard to think, so you just lean into him.

The kiss is messy and airless and hardly graceful, but you wouldn't have it any other fucking way. You're all greedy and breathless, desperate for anything, his soft lips against your own, his amber and sea-salt scent, his warm that you nearly forget about everything else and get lost in the kiss.

You've never kissed like this, been kissed like this.

He's just as hungry as you are, but kissing a na'vi is different.

He's just so fucking... big. 

His hands are holding you everywhere- your waist, your ass, your tits, your thighs. He's tilting you this way and that and opening you up to deepen the kiss. His face is so large, the force and hunger and ferocity with which he's kissing you practically about to send you bending backwards if it wasn't for him clutching you tight to him.

It's hot and hungry, almost animalistic as his fangs lightly sink into your lip. You moan like a fucking whore into his mouth, and his textured, massive tongue lightly licks the blood away as he shifts.

It's just a warm, horny mess between the two of you, full of teeth and tongue and your tiny whimpers at each movement of his hands over your skin.

And suddenly it's all getting to much, the sudden emptiness in you that only he can fill, and you're gasping for breath and pulling away to stare at him.

Aonung too is breathless, head automatically following yours but you place a hand on his chest to stop him.

"Aonung breathe."

He grunts his objection to your words.

"I can hold my breath underwater for-"

"I can't have the future Olo'eyktan dying on my bed," you say, smiling at his indignation to stop kissing you. 

"I'm fine," he grumbles.

"Well I won't be able to drag your massive body out if you do pass out," you point out.

"Aw, are you going to try and rescue me?"

"No, I need to hide the evidence," you quip.

Aonung wrinkles his nose at you, but you just thrust the mask at him. With a childish eye-roll, he takes a deep inhale before disregarding his very vital possession and crashing his lips back onto yours.

You find yourself growing more comfortable. Aonung is hungry for anything, his muscles tensing when you make certain movements, and you find yourself doing them again.

Tugging him closer by his necklace. Lightly brushing your nails up his back. Threading your fingers into his braided bun.

When you lightly tug on his soft braided hair, he growls a little and shifts you closer. When you trace your tongue gently across his fangs, his grip tightens suddenly around your ass.

"You're so soft syulang," he whispers.

The sound of his voice all deep and gravelly, his breath all hot and heavy on your neck, his hands roving over every single inch of your skin, it's all just so.... much.

You miss his mouth on yours, but soon enough it's kissing its way down your neck. Each shaky breath of yours is met with him on your neck and collar, lips pressing, tongue lightly licking at your skin, sucking and kissing.

You were familiar enough with this- na'vi men were territorial creatures. But you had never seen any girls from Aonung's little black book walking around with hickeys, and at the rate he was going, your whole neck would just be one fat love bite.

And you'd be fine with that.

You feel his nose nudging lightly against you, breathing you in as his lips brush over your collar. Scenting you.

 His sudden gentleness with you doesn't quite create the friction you so desperately need right now, but his hands trailing and squeezing and exploring your smaller body satiate you. For now.

Then the ferocity is suddenly back, and he's nipping at your body again. A moment later, you realise that he must have only been satisfied because now you smell faintly like him, like amber and sea-salt, yet you know to another na'vi, his mark on you would be almost overwhelming.

When he finally reaches your bra - you could tell he'd been savouring this moment, kissing his way down to it - you can see the hungry gleam in his glittering blue eyes, his tail flicking excitedly behind him and an insatiable smile on his handsome face, fangs poking lightly through his soft lips. 

And like you'd thought, he's impatient and greedy and ravenous. He doesn't bother with the delicate clasp, no doubt guessing the struggles na'vi endured with their massive fingers against the small clinch, simply ripping it straight off your body.

"You ass," you gasp, looking helplessly at the pieces of what was once your bra tossed carelessly from the bed. "We live on a fucking island, where am I meant to get another br-"

"I'll make you more," Aonung promises. "I'll make you ten tops."

You highly doubt that- Aonung doesn't seem, or at least what you'd heard about his playboy experiences, like the sort for after care let alone gift giving.

But your half-hearted annoyance and indignance dies in your damn throat when his hands enclose your tits.

"You're - fuck- you're so small, syulang," he grunts, staring wide-eyed down at you.

Indeed, you'd never felt smaller against a na'vi then right now. Held in his warm lap, one of his hands big enough to hold both your breasts, both large enough to wrap around your whole body.

The thought of that makes you moan unconsciously, and Aonung blinks at you in surprise. You don't bother to play anything cool; with his hands where they are, he can feel how hot and nervous and hungry you are.

And when he meets your eyes again, you can see he feels the same.

Suddenly you're being laid back against your bed and Aonung's comfortingly heavy figure is over you, hands holding you tightly as his lips brush against your breasts.

It's an unexpected movement, one that has you arching in surprise, pushing your chest up and opening it all up to him

He goes on without hesitation, licking over your tit gently, grinning a little at your whine, the stark contrast of your smooth supple skin against his rough tongue just driving you fucking crazy.

He wraps his lips around your nipple and suckles at it, before he nips lightly at the underside of your tit.

And then you're arching and whining and tangling your fingers in his hair, and then he's kissing down your stomach and sliding away your thong before you even know what's fucking happening.

"Wait!" you gasp, cupping his face away from your cunt to get him to look at you. 

"Yes, syulang?"

"This is your first time," you say, trying to swallow heavily. "With a human."

Aonung just blinks, looking confused and slightly offended that you're stopping him from doing as he was going to.

"Don't... um... I should be making this good for you," you breathe shakily. "I want to make you feel good- to... um..."

Aonung just laughs as though you're being hilarious, and reaches up to pat your hair with one massive, warm hand.

"Mawey tawtute," he grins. "I want to make you feel good too."

"But-" you say, face twisted with worry, but once fucking again, he manages to kill your words.

He kisses the soft, squishiness of your thigh, inches away from your bare pussy, and you gasp lightly as he sucks a sweet purple bruise into the soft skin. 

Then, eyes looking carefully up at you to see your reaction, he lightly sinks his fangs into your leg. You gasp so loudly you think they might hear you in the village, hands instantly leaping to find balance in his braided hair. 

The sting is a welcome, warm pain, especially when he lightly licks away the droplet of blood and brushes your clit with a large turquoise finger.

You can't speak, just scrunch your nose tightly, grip onto his braids for dear life as he muscles his way in between your thighs and goes to fucking town.

His mouth is fucking massive- his hands are massive, pinning your hips down. 

You're squirming from the moment he gets onto you, sucking lightly at your clit, a delighted, puppy-playful glint in his large blue eyes, tossing your legs over his shoulders so his face is pressed even closer to you.

He suckles at you so eagerly, tongue stroking over your hole, over and over and over. You can't help it, the way you're simultaneously squirming away from the overwhelming pleasure of it all and the way you're rutting your hips into his face.

"Fu- fuck, Aonung."

It's all messy, you're so wet, his face is shining with your slick and his spit, and he slides a finger back and dips it in.

Instantly you gasp, jolting upwards and arching your back high to the ceiling. Aonung's about to grumble at your squirming when you tug at his hair and he groans.

"Sorry, sorry," you whisper, flushed with mortification.

Aonung just looks up at you and grins, kissing your hip lightly and mumbling against your lips,

"Go ahead syulang."

He slides a second finger in beside the first one, easing them together, fuelled by your breathless moans and groaning into your clit as you tug at his braids with each helpless squirm, his deep rumbles vibrating warmly against you.

He has a look on his face that tells you plainly- he's enjoying this as much as you do. It's in the glint of his eyes and his wide smile.

And the way his tail is thumping happily behind him, unrestrained and untethered, telling you one thing.

He's fucking hard.

You notice it by the way his hips are tilted, rutting slightly against the mattress, but he seems unwilling to take his hands away from you, from the curve of your ass and your slick.

And you want to help, so you squirm a little more to slide down to reach him.

"Aonung, don't you want to just-"

"Just one," he pleads, looking up at you.

It's crazy, how someone that's twice your size and has no fucking idea what it is can look as an adorable as a puppy when he wants to.

And who are you to deny the Metkayina Prince?

So you just accept your fate and hope to eywa you don't black out too fast, clinging to his braids and trying to muffle your moans into your hand.

Your legs begin to shake around his head, eyes rolling all the way back as you moan louder and claw at your rickety brass bed head.

Then, when you accidentally jerk and squeeze your legs around his face, he moans shamelessly against you and that's all it takes.

With a hand clasped tight over your mouth to muffle your moans of pleasure, coming undone on his tongue, clamping down on his fingers and leaping head first off the edge you'd been teetering on.

You have no idea what to do, just know you're rocking aimlessly against his face, crying out and holding onto him for dear life.

He continues through it all, licking and kissing and nipping and sucking with such fervour that you think he might just pull your soul out of your pussy, eyes watching you with desperate lust yet also with sweet curiousity.

Whether you're conscious or unconscious you don't know, all you can sense is the overwhelming waves of pleasure crashing again and again over you. 

"Holy shit," you breathe, finally coming down and lightly tugging at his braids. "Aonung come on, let's find something for you."

Aonung frowns, clearly wanting to keep going, but he obliges when you grin and brush your fingers over his face.

He's all dopey and messy and gorgeous, face shining like the fucking ocean, but he just wipes it carelessly and moves back up your body to shower your chest and neck with more kisses and light nips.

"Aonung," you say gently, squirming slightly underneath him.

He just grunts to show he's listening, flicking your nipple lightly with his large, rough tongue. You fight back your broken moans so you can speak.

"I want to fuck you," you whisper.

That gets his attention fast. You nearly laugh at the way his head snaps up, eyes wide with surprise, and he tilts his head.

"Syulang, we have time, we don't have to-"

"No," you growl, frowning and trying to get him to understand. "You can kiss any girl anytime, see any tits any time, but this is the only time I'm ever going to have you and I want to do everything."

Aonung blinks, looking surprised, before bursting into deep, rumbly laughter that makes you scowl.

"What?" you grumble, annoyed and reaching to cover your tits.

That makes him grumpy, and he easily just pushes your arms away so he can pillow his chin between the cleavage and rest his face to look up your body at you.

His massive body, double the proportions of everything you have, is a comfortable weight over your smaller body, his hands absentmindedly stroking your soft skin.

"I'm not going to see any tits any time," Aonung says simply. "These are my favourites."

"You-" you wrinkle your nose at him to hide your annoyed smile as he licks lightly over your breast, then sucks a little hickey into the underside of the soft cleavage.

"Tawtute, you're all soft and smooth and squishy."

You let out a breathless little laugh, amused by the childish simplicity with which he expresses himself, stroking his large face fondly.

"But I don't want to waste our time when this is the only-"

"It doesn't have to be the only time," Aonung shrugs, blinking at you. "You can come to me whenever you like."

That's a layered statement. Whilst that has you reeling with delight and satisfaction, you can't help wishing that maybe he would come to you, that maybe he'd ever want this more than you do. Want you more than you want him.

"Or I'll come to you," Aonung amends. "But if I come to you whenever I'd like, you'd be getting sick and tired of having me around."

"Why don't you find out," you whisper. "Just how tired you can make me."

And with that, you're in agreement.

Placing you in control, he rolls over onto his back, careful not to crush you, and lifts you lightly to rest on his chest.

You reach out to tug at the band of his loincloth, your fingers quick and desperate and practically scrabbling at the knot, and Aonung watches with amusement and curiousity.

Finally, it's untied and you draw it away. And fuck. He's naked. 

The prince of the clan is naked in the bed, straddled under you, staring up at you like he's never seen something so... precious.

So yes, maybe you've imagined this a million times. Thought about him naked, here, in the reef, in the river, in the marui, in every possible place.

For a human, you can be a horny little thing sometimes, and the thing that fuelled that most was your little crush.

But now he's here, and you're eager to see him.

All na'vi are big compared to you, every na'vi cock you've ever seen and felt and took is just large and beautiful and big, but Aonung just seems obsene.

Never once, in all your filthy imaginations, had you truly dared to factor in the sheer size of him. Just by looking at his massive muscular body, one could guess, but they'd still have their fucking minds blown.

He’s big. So fucking big it has your eyes bulging and heart thumping and mouth almost watering. His cock is just as beautiful as him, just as smooth pale blue with the delicate darker stripes and glowing tahnì.

When you reach out and touch it, his hips jerk slightly and his pupils widen as your smaller hand closes gently around it.

Fuck, you need two hands to hold it. It's heavy and hot and obscene in your small, smooth hands, and you look up at him with amazement.

He's just staring back, waiting for you to do what you want with him. Whatever you want.

You shift your hand down, too small to hold all of him but he groans anyway, feeling warm and sticky precome gushing from the tip to coat your fingers.

"Fuck, syulang, so good," he grunts, seemingly mindlessly rocking his hips up into your hand.

You just want to be good for him. To make him feel good, in any way near the way he made you feel, to repay him. 

But at the same time, the heavy weight of his cock, let alone the sheer damn size of it, has your head spinning and mouth watering. You want it stretching everything inside you, bullying its way into you, fucking its mark deep into you until you're ruined for anyone else.

You just want everything.

It's greedy of you, you know that, to be lusting after what might quite literally be the most unattainable man in the clan, but you can't help it. From the moment you set eyes on him, that's all you wanted, him as yours.

But since you can't have that, you'll just have to make this time worth it, get him to fuck you enough to last a lifetime without him.

"Come on," you grin. "All this for me?"

Aonung grunts as you tighten your hand slightly around his painfully hard cock, eyes studying the way the tahnì's light flickers and shimmers with each of your movements, the way he pulses in your hand.

"You have me now syulang," he mutters. "You don't need all those big, stupid guys."

"You are literally the stupidest guy ever," you point out. "But also the biggest."

At the last word, you lick a stripe up his length, and his hand jumps into your hair and he chokes out a groan.

"Even your tongue is smooth tawtute," he mutters, almost to himself.

"I'll try my best," you say, pulling back a few inches to study his dick. "I've never done this with a na'vi before-"

"It's alright," he whispers, trying to pull you closer, and you frown.

"I want to do this," you pout. "Please- it just might not be very tidy."

Aonung tries to pull you away, tries to hide the way his cock is pulsing, but you can feel each heartbeat through the heavy weight in your hand.

"Come syulang, we have time later," he pleads. "You wished to fuck."

"I don't want this to be over too soo-"

"I will come every day if that's what you'd like," Aonung huffs. "Just let me make you feel good."

So you oblige, pushing hard at his shoulders, and he lies back onto the pillows as you lift yourself up and straddle him.

"Are you sure?" Aonung asks, furrowing his brows at you. "You are small and-"

This time you're the one to cut him off, rolling your hips fluidly over his much larger ones, feeling your whole body tighten at the new friction of your slick and throbbing clit sliding up along his hardened length.

He doesn't protest again. He just lets his hands fall to rest on your hips, sliding your smaller body on his before bringing you down to grind harder.

You moan and he lets out a small noise in his chest, and it takes you a moment to realise he's purring.

Surprisingly, he doesn't seem abashed by the sounds he makes, instead he just rests his head back against the pillows to watch your movements with eyes darkened with lust.

You can feel that familiar heat growing rapidly, too rapidly, between your legs straddled either side of him, so you quickly lift off his hips. Thankfully, Aonung seems to understand, or maybe the teasing is just too much for him too, because he helps you line him up with your entrance.

At the slightest movement, your legs stretching further to lower yourself onto his cock, you know it's going to be a stretch. More than any fingers, any cock, anything you've ever taken, and you think he knows it too, by the way he's staring so avidly at you.

But you're impatient, hardly caring how much you get hurt, just wanting him inside you, stretching you, marking you, ruining you, and you drop further down so the head of his cock starts to press into you.

And then you're dropping further, hair cascading messily all over you, lips bit tight to hide your pain before the massive hardness of him slides past the ring of resistance and starts to smoothly sink into you.

You cry out and Aonung hisses.

"You're- fuck, you're so tight syulang," he groans. "The others did not lie."

You can't answer, sinking further down, head lolling back at the overwhelming stretch of it all, hands resting firmly on his chest to anchor yourself.

Aonung's breathing heavily, his eyes blown wide to black moons ringed in a thin line of pale blue, and you can see he's trying to control yourself as you grit your teeth and sink further onto him.

You're whining and whimpering and he half-looks like he wants to stop out of concern for you, but you shake your head at him. Instead, he sits up, cradling your small figure against his massive chest and takes control, sliding in.

And in. And in.

Just when you think there's no more left for him to go, he keeps going. He lets you sink your teeth into his shoulder to muffle your sharp cries, gently smoothing your hair and whispering comforts and praise to you while his other hand reaches down to rub circles on your throbbing clit.

The stretch in you feels so tight that you doubt you can move, and Aonung hisses again as you clench around him.

"Just a little more, paskalin," he whispers, biting back a groan as he rocks another inch into you, your silent tears streaking his chest, your whimpers and whines practically injected into him through your mouth on his shoulder.

"You're so big," you choke out, gritting your teeth as he pushes in another inch, which seems literally fucking impossible.

And fuck, he's still got a few inches left and there's just simply no more space. You frown with frustration, but then he's dropping your remaining weight onto him and buries himself deep inside you.

You cry out, face twisted in the delicious mix of blunt pain and sharp pleasure, and Aonung just remains there, holding you close and sheathed within you, letting you adjust and clench and breathe heavily.

"Holy shit," you groan. "You're right here."

The bulge of his dick is evident in your body, and you lay a breathless hand over it. A sick part of you wishes it'll remain there forever, his mark fucked into you long after you can't fuck him anymore.

He too takes a breath, lazily and careless from his mask, before laying it back down and finally starting to move.

The stretch is a delicious burn as Aonung rocks his hips deeper, until he's as far in as he's going to get, before he pulls out an inch and makes his first, experimental thrust. To his delight, it has your eyes rolling back and you arching your tits right into him.

His lips find his way on your neck, your nails digging into his broad back as he rolls his hips and thrusts deep into you. You can't hold it back anymore, moaning shamelessly like a whore into his ear all the while scratching your mark into his back.

He, in turn, is moaning and cursing against your neck, his mouth all messy, nipping and kissing along your neck and collar and chest.

It's all just a test, really. Sensing out each others bodies, learning what you like; there's nothing about this you dislike.

You love the squeeze of his hands on your curves, knowing he loves your curves just as much- judging the way he's pinching your ass, kneading your tits and tracing the little squidge of your belly.

"So good syulang," he whispers when you clench around him again. "You're doing so well."

He's whispering nearly unintelligible things against your neck, words of worship, mutters of how tight you are, little praise of how well you're doing.

You just cling onto him, moaning shamelessly into his ear, arching further and further with every deep, forceful thrust, feeling as though he's fucking your soul straight out of your body.

If he hadn't been holding you up, you think you may have just turned to jelly and flopped backwards, yet his hands are warm and present on your back.

You shift slightly, up and down, trying your best to meet each of his thrusts, and there it is. The start of the knot, the one you begin to pull, to unravel.

And then he knows it, because all of a sudden he's speeding up and thrusting deeper and rubbing circles on your clit, and you're a moaning mess, hands raking through his hair and over his back, gently caressing his face and digging sharply into his waist.

All it finally takes is the nip at your neck, the soft whispered shower of desperately spoken words you can't even hear, and then you've tipped over the edge.

Aonung just fucks you through it all, cradling you body and still muttering those words you can't make out. You're making a fucking mess, your sharp cries and moans and whines tearing through the home so loudly you'd thank Eywa forever that Spider's far away in the village.

And then when you still, the change that goes through Aonung is surprising. He had been rough by human standards, but it never seemed to strike you just how gentle he had been until he just loses all vestages of control.

He's moving at animalistic paces, and you're unravelling into a moaning, trembling mess under him, teeth sunk into his shoulder to try and quiet your sounds, because you sure as fuck can't hold them in.

You yelp as he speeds up now, brutal and animalistic as the last tenterhooks of his strained restraint snaps and he buries himself deep inside you. He's hissing a million unintelligible words against your skin as he spills himself inside you, rocking his hips the whole time until he finally comes to a shaky stop.

It's all just quiet. And still. 

No words are spoken, just your faint moans every now and then in the aftershock of your earth-shattering orgasm.

After a moment, when you finally start to return to yourself somewhat, you realise he's layed back against the bed, you curled lightly on his chest. His arm is tented protectively over you, your own wrapped tight around his own chest, your hair spilling over your shoulders onto both your spent, slightly sweaty bodies. 

Then he finally moves, a small shift to pull you even closer, gently slide you up his body you you're in his view, when he can nuzzle lightly into your neck.

You whimper at the sudden cold emptiness inside you as he lifts you off him and closer to his face, but he lightly kisses all over your flushed face, once, twice, again and again, soft, gentle brushes of his lips over your shining skin.

"Are you alright, syulang?"

You can't answer. Aonung, the prince of the clan, the guy you've been crushing on since you came to the reef, the one that was the most unattainable man in the reef, had just fucked every morsel of animation out of your body, and is now cuddling you close.

"Why are you doing this," you manage to say weakly.

"You do not like having me here?" Aonung asks, brows furrowing in confusion, looking slightly hurt.

"No," you say quickly. "But you don't have to stay here with me- you're free to go if you wish. Don't feel like you have to take care of me."

Aonung's frown deepens, but he just nuzzles closer, his face pillowed with your soft, raw breasts.

"I will stay," he says decisively. 

"But you don't," you say quietly. "I've- I've heard things, that you are just... well... slutty. We both wanted sex Aonung, you don't have to feel obligated to help me, especially when you never did with others before me."

"I will stay," he says again. "I want to stay with you, syulang."

It's strange. You don't feel uneasy, but you're not used to cuddling after intimacy, not with men only being with you for the experience of fucking a tawtute, not when you're wearing your expopack.

But now, for the first time, you're just spent the fuck out, collapsed on top of the future Olo'eyktan, being praised and kissed and cared for by the elusive, unattainable Aonung.

And then there's the problem. The fact that Aonung has lit a flame no others will be able to fuel, the fact that he's made you come harder than any other ever will, the fact he's stretched you to the point no other will ever be able to fill.

"I think you've fucking ruined me," you mumble sleepily into his neck. 

"Have I?" he asks, sounding slightly pleased with himself.

"For anyone and everyone."

So there's just the question left, the one that's been ringing in your brain since he kissed you, since he touched you, since you came so hard your vision went fuzzy.

And you know there's never going to be another chance to ask it. So here fucking goes. But then he answers it before it even leaves your raw lips.

"You will not need others syulang," he growls. "I will take care of you."

And you think you could melt away. All you wanted.

It seems impossible that this is happening- maybe he fucked you so well you simply passed away, and your heaven was just him caring for you. Maybe you're still fucking dreaming, and you haven't woken up, and Lo'ak and Spider will be playing video games outside on that shitty old sofa.

But then you reach out to tentatively touch his face, and you know it's real.

He's still breathing raggedly, and you pass him the mask.

"Breathe, Aonung."

"I-"

"I don't want you passing out before you can finish what you were trying to say," you reprimand him.

Aonung laughs slightly and obliges, before setting his mask back down.

"I liked you too, tawtute," he whispers. 

"Fucking hypocrite," you hiss, your supposed annoyance at complete odds with your uncontrollable, delighted grin.

"I liked your sweetness," he grins, kissing your nose. "And kindness and determination. You asked why I did not speak to you- I was ashamed."

You blink in surprise, and pull back a few inches.

"Not of liking you," Aonung continues. "Ashamed that for the first time in my life, I was nervous. You made me nervous, with all your perseverance and tawtute clothing and cuteness."

You shut him up, crashing your lips onto his and snake your hands around his neck.You kissed him.

You can feel his heartbeat picking up against your chest as he shifts, one of his hands on your waist and holding you up so your faces are closer, the other tangling in your long hair.

He smells good, like amber and sea-salt, and his lips are so soft and warm that you nearly forget about everything else and get lost in the kiss.

And it means everything that you don't need to speak. Who needs tsaheylu to read each other when you can kiss him like this?

"I will make you those tops I promised," Aonung says, pulling away. "And I can order a new hut. If you prefer your tawtute clothing, teach me to make you more."

Fuck. 

This is better than anything you could have dreamed of, imagined in those long afternoons in the healing hut staring lustfully at Aonung from afar.

And now he's here, cuddling you, offering to make you gifts and asking what you like.

"My little tunutu," he whispers.

The words send a shiver through you.

The same way you'd felt this whole time, wanting all of him with everything you have, desperately willing to give whatever you have to offer.

And now he feels the same.

Tunutu.

My little desire.

#aonung #avatar #avatar the way of water #avatar fandom #aonung fanfiction #aonung x reader #aonung x female reader #avatar smut #avatar fanfiction #aonung fic #aonung x y/n #aonung x you #aonung smut #aonung x human #aonung x human reader

[flamingpudding]

Part 4 of Ghost Kid in Gotham

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How to catch a baby brother

Richard 'Dick' Greyson had a problem. It wasn't a nuclear level of problem but it also wasn't a paper cut level of problem either. Because apparently he had a baby brother no one in their family but Damien knew about. Granted Damien had confessed that said baby brother was dead and had supposedly died eight years ago.

The explanation that Talia had apparently pulled another Jason was not helpful at all. According to Damien, in response to Tims findings, there was no other way for the twin to be alive other than Talia having preserved his body and then decided after eight years to drop it into the pits. Well lets just say his opinion on that woman if it was already down in the depth it certainly was now.

Which, considering the glowing Lazarus green eyes, could mean that there was now an eight years old child running loose in the Bat Cave with Pit Madness. Not just a simple feral eight years old that looked like perfect B adoption material and so happened to be blood related.

"Guys we need a plan. We can't just let our little teethling run loose."

"Richard, do not refer to my brother as little teethling." Dick only grinned. "Well the little biter needs a nickname and until I find something else fitting its teethling. Or do you have a better suggestion?"

Sweet little Baby Bird was now glowering at him. Oh protective were we, his little brothers definitely were the cutest. He was definitely going to tease sweet little Dami about this later once the first phase of new little brother crisis was over. For now they had to find the little guy first. The Cave wasn't exactly childproof.

"Let's use Jason as bait." Tim suddenly suggested causing the second oldest to grimace. "The little guy apparently likes biting him. We could use that as an advantage."

"Absolutely fucking not." Little Wing disagreed and Dick chuckled in good humor.

"Aw come on Little Wing, this is your chance to make a bond with our new baby before any of us can."

"For once I agree with Todd. Absolutely not, who knows where he has been. I will not have my brother become sick from biting him." He would have cooed at this, if Jason's face change from surprise at the agreement to a purely offended scowl wasn't so funny.

"Okay no biting bait. But we gotta draw out the little guy and calm his Pit Rage." If that feralness the kid displayed had even anything to do with Pit Rage.Considering the glowing eyes though he would think so. Dick eyed Jasons for a moment, he didn't seem to be affected at all nor had he said anything about the Pit being upset or feeling anything strange. So maybe the little guy wasn't suffering to an extrem from it? But he had apparently been brought back by a Lazarus Pit, so the likelihood with their experiences so far was slim.

"Well we gotta find a way to secure the little guy before B comes back or Alfie finds out." Jason mentioned still scowling at Damien. "By the way, I want to be here when you guys tell B about this. I wanna see his face and make fucking sure the little biter won't be turned into another kid soldier."

"Jason." He scowled, this was definitely not the right time for that sort of discussion but he had a point, they needed to find little… what had Damien said his name was? Wait did Damien even tell them the little guy's name? They all had just been using nicknames so far.

"Dami, what's the little teethling's name again?"

"I haven't told you yet." Ah okay so he didn't have a hole in his memory. "It's Danyal, but when we were younger he didn't like the way grandfather and our teachers called his name and insisted on being called informally as Danny."

"Okay right, so we better find little Danny and get everyone together to introduce-"

"Might I ask who this 'little Danny' is, Master Dick?"

He did not scream. But his heart rate shot up with Alfred just appearing behind him like that. Really sometimes Alfred could be as bad as Cass in the ways of sneaking up on people without them knowing.

"Alfred, hey hi what are you doing down here?" He was not nervous, no he wasn't. The way the butler narrowed his eyes at him did definitely not scare him at all, nope.

"I was informed that all of you returned uninjured." Though his eyes narrowed at Jason's hand that got cut earlier and his brother instantly tried to hide it behind his back when he noticed Alfreds eyes on him. "But the four of you, despite having returned to the Cave, have not come up yet. So I was merely checking on you, to make sure nothing was wrong after all."

He gulped. Really there was no way of ever hiding anything from Alfred.

"Jason brought a child to the Cave that we found out is Damien's twin that had died eight years ago but was brought back to life and is now feral and hiding somewhere in the cave."

At least it was Timber that blurred out everything they knew so far.

"His name is Danyal." Baby Bird added and the four of them waited for Alfred's reaction.

"I see. I will go prepare one of the rooms then and inform Master Bruce to return sooner from his meeting with the Justice League then. As well as prepare for a family dinner as soon as possible, I assume. Will my help be needed in finding young Master Danyal?"

"No worries Alfie, I think I have an idea on how to draw out the little shiiii-biter. You made cookies, right?" Jason at the last minute corrected his words because of the look and Dick couldn't help but snicker.

"I indeed did. If my help is not required then I will be on my way."

Giving them all one last look over, the Butler smiled before he turned to leave. Dick, Tim and Jason let out a sigh in relief once Alfred had left again to which Damien only eyed them strangely.

A little while later Jason went to get the cookies and came back with the plate and staring at a green post-it note. "Since when does Alfie stick green post-it notes with cryptic shit on plates?"

"What?" His brother only shrugged offering the note to him. Tim was looking over his shoulder at it and the two stared at the strange writing.

"I think Cass or Steph might be pulling a prank on us? These look just like random squiggles."

"Let's leave this for later and look for the little teethling." He passed the note to Tim, noticing the curiosity in his eyes. Oh boy, he probably should make sure his little brother gets some sleep instead of trying to encrypt whatever was written on that little note all night.

"Now everyone lets take a cookie, resist eating it and go hunt down our little teethling."

Damien narrowed his eyes on him. "I told you to stop calling Danyal that." The little baby bird still took a cookie though and marched away into the bat cave. They had separated wandering through the Bat Cave trying to cover as much ground as possible and by this point Dick was ready to call for Cass to join them, maybe even wake up Duke just so they would finally find the little kid.

That was until a familiar yowl of pain resounded in the Cave. The direction made Dicks stomach sink once he remembered just what was in the Cave in this direction. "Jason!"

Once he arrived there he feared for the worst. Jason avoided the area, because B had placed their Lazarus Pit there and his brother had often said that it was one of the reasons he didn't like coming to the Cave that much anymore let alone into this area of the Cave. To hear his brothers shout of pain from that area couldn't mean anything good.

Well that was until he got to the scene. Dick didn't know how long he stood there frozen but at some point he knew he took out his phone to take some photos of what was happening. Tim was already laughing and Dick was pretty sure that Babs was most likely recording this with one of the many cameras B had in the Cave.

Jason lay with his back on the ground, with one hand his brother was still holding the cookie waving it desperately before Danny's face who was biting down on the other arm sitting on the downed vigilante's chest. Little hands gripping onto the arm in an attempt to make sure no one was taking his chewtoy away from him. Meanwhile Damien was trying to lift the little biter off Jason by holding him with his hands under the kids armpits.

"You little shit! FUCK! Come on, here is the cookie! Take the fucking cookie! OUCH FUCKING HELL! How is he resisting Alfies cookies!"

"Danyal, No! You do not know where Todd was or how dirty he is. Let go of his arm this instant. We do not want you to get sick!"

"Hey!"

This was gold, Dick decided, and would go straight to the black mail as well as family memories folder.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #damian wayne #feral danny #jason todd #danny and damian are twins #dp x dc #de aged danny #fanfic #dick grayson #richard grayson #tim drake #dc x dp #crossover #alfred pennyworth #unedited #no beta wie die like danny #Jason the chewtoy #Alfreds cookies are irresistible #Danny doesn't know that yet #clockworks post-it notes are cryptic and in ghost speech #dpxdc

[stardust-kenobi]

The Wrong Ingredient

Severus Snape x Fem!Reader

Summary: As a teaching assistant at Hogwarts, working on creating a new calming draught seemed to be a straightforward task. However, when you accidentally use the wrong ingredient, Professor Snape is more than willing to help alleviate the effects.

Word count: 4k

Warning: smut, fingering, piv, sex pollen (my fav), sort-of teacher/student relationship (reader is 2 years post graduation), mild DUB CON

A/N: Apologies to my followers who are not interested in Harry Potter content. This is my first (and potentially only) fic I am writing for Harry Potter, I just have had an insane infatuation with Severus Snape this week and I just had to write this to get it off my mind lol. Feel free to disregard :)

Read on AO3

The roaring of the snowstorm grew louder by the moment as you tried so desperately to focus on perfecting the potions assignment for the Professor. You were distracted by the storm, entranced by the blanket of white that coated the roof and distant hills. With the halls of Hogwarts empty for the Holiday break, you felt an even deeper appreciation for the warmth and coziness inside the castle.

As a recent graduate of Hogwarts who was now assigned to be a teaching assistant in your second year after graduation, part of your job was helping the professors with their lesson plans. Even if that meant sacrificing part of your holiday break spending the day alone…with Professor Snape. Persistent footsteps approached you, entering the classroom, followed by the sound of a slamming door. You jolted in your seat. 

“Any progress?” Professor Snape asked blankly.

During your studies at Hogwarts, you were always fond of Professor Snape. He was cold and stern, something that usually would have made you weary of a person, but there was something about his demeanor and the way he cared for you that created a soft spot for him in your heart. You had to admit, though, he was hard to talk to at times. He was not a man for many words, so even though you enjoyed him as a professor, there was a bit of unexpected tension being alone with him. You could not deny, though, that you found him to be extremely attractive. 

You sighed and hesitated to look back at him. Snape will be disappointed in your response. 

“Unfortunately, no” you breathed. 

“Pity” He scoffed, but ended with the faintest smirk. He was hard on you the same as he was when he was your professor, but he made some fun of it every now and then.

“Sorry, Professor Snape. I just don’t think these ingredients will work” 

“It’s experimental, Y/N, we won’t know until it is done” He shrugged. 

You were working on a high-intensity calming draught. A harmless potion that many wizards and witches could find great use in, especially during high-stress situations. The ingredients were simple, but they just didn’t make sense to you. 

Lavender, crocodile heart, rose petals, and peppermint. 

You read the list back to yourself several times. You weren’t getting the reaction you’d hoped for inside the simmering pot, and the ingredients weren’t behaving as you’d expected as you followed the procedure you were familiar with.

“Sometimes the best way to test potions is to try them yourself” Snape spoke with a condescending tone as he noticed your hesitation. 

“Are you suggesting I just drink this myself and see if it works?” You reiterated and trailed with a light chuckle.

“If you won’t, I will” He shrugged and smirked back at you from across the room. Professor Snape was professional, of course, but he was right. Sometimes trial and error is the quickest way to test potions. The ingredients were simple, so the chance of them causing any harm was…potentially slim. 

The day was long and you had grown tired of staring into the stirring liquid.

Fine, you thought, what is the worst that could happen?

You poured the purple-hued brew into the glass in front of you. Without thinking too much more about it, you threw back the potion, letting it trickle down your throat. It was potent, minty, and slightly earthy. Not the worst potion you’d tasted…but not the best either.

Your face twisted in uncertainty for the flavor.

Snape held his eyes to the book in front of him as he sat at his desk across the room. He was wildly uninterested in the reaction or the success of the potion you’d brewed. He had more important things to handle, and an experimental calming draught for a future lesson plan was low on his priority list, so of course, that means you were the one to take on the task.

You waited for a reaction.

And waited.

Nothing. You felt nothing. 

Just before you were going to give up and accept the defeat, you actually began to feel something. It was warm and fuzzy, laced in your veins and flowed slowly up your arms. 

Perhaps this is the beginning of the calming effects, you thought. 

The warmth felt funny as it seeped deeper into your bloodstream. Before you knew it, each of your extremities flowed hot with its calming effects. But there was something else. Something you’d never felt from a potion before. A tingling and most desperate sensation found its way between your legs. 

“P-Professor?” You struggled to call out to him, suddenly weary of how you were beginning to feel. You swallowed hard. 

“Yes, Y/N?” He called back, his eyes still glued to the book.

“Are there any…similar potions that I could have accidentally created instead of the calming draught?”

He looked up suddenly. 

“No, there is-....” Snape stopped mid-sentence, setting the book down gently, “Well perhaps, but you would know the difference between peppermint and spearmint”

You looked down at the extra green leaves that remained unused near the pot. You had collected this from a different area of the field than normal, but it smelled and looked like peppermint, so you did not think twice about it. However, now that he questions it, you worry it was, indeed, something else. 

“Let's just say maybe I didn’t, though. If I accidentally used spearmint, what would that mean?” You countered nervously.

His eyes grew wide for a moment. 

“Show me the plant” He insisted. Snape quickly rose from his seat and walked over to your desk. 

You showed him the green leaves you believed to be peppermint. He towered over you.

“It's peppermint, right?” You asked wearily, looking up to him. His furrowed brows revealed his concern.

“No. This is certainly spearmint” He pressed his lips tightly together and twisted the stem between his fingers. 

Your heart sank. What had you done?

“What… what did I brew, then?” You asked cautiously. 

Snape appeared more worrisome and now even a bit uncomfortable. 

“What do you feel?” He asked slowly and cautiously rather than answering your question.

You were hesitant to tell the truth and he could sense it. 

“I feel very warm… and quite…um” You trailed off as you felt your heart beating a hundred miles an hour. Suddenly you felt a raging sense of attraction to his natural musk and cologne. God, was he always so breathtaking?

“Aroused?” He questioned. 

“Yes”. You squeezed your eyes shut. Your cheeks rushed with blood as your response was trailed by a muffled moan. You were embarrassed to admit feeling this way in front of Professor Snape, but there was nothing you could do to stop it. And to hear your professor of many years, and now your colleague, ask you if you felt any sense of sexual arousal made you excited, too. 

“I feared as much” He turned away slowly, bringing his hand to cover his mouth. 

“Professor wha-”

“Quiet. Give me a moment to think” Snape demanded. He paced the room slowly. 

It grew more intense with each passing second. The tingling created a sensitivity upon the surface of your skin. You grazed your arm with your fingertips and chills shot down your spine. 

You clenched your thighs together as your arousal intensified. The professor turned around at this same moment, and let his eyes catch sight of your discomfort. 

He looks good today, you thought to yourself. His jet-black hair fell so beautifully atop his shoulders, and his dark attire somehow never looked better than it did right now with the way it draped down the length of his body. 

“You’ve created something that many have experimented with in the past, but… it's not well documented. It’s dangerous. Think similar to a love potion, however…much more potent” Snape explained, ending his pacing right at your desk once again. His emphasis toward the end was all you needed to hear.  You could tell he was attempting to maintain his composure but you could also sense he was on edge.

“Oh, God” You cried, lowering your head to look down at your feet, “What do I do, Professor?” You begged. Your fists clenched the edges of the table. You needed a release. Or an antidote. “What is the recipe for the antidote?” 

Truly, you wanted the release. Your staff dormitory was nearby, just right down the hall, you could take care of this quickly. Snape looked around, ensuring you were both alone, then used a quick flick of his wand to close the shutters on the windows. It was dimly lit in the classroom now with only the light of many candles illuminating each corner of the room. It was…romantic. Most everyone in the castle was gone. Any remaining professors were locked away in their offices, and the students were well on their way home by now. 

“There isn’t one” He stated firmly. The warm amber luminescence glowed so beautifully upon his skin. 

The effects of the accidental potion were nearing unbearable, now. Every fiber of your being ached so desperately to be touched. 

“Fuck…I…I need” You breathed heavily, clenching your lower belly as your arousal pooled itself between your legs. Your cunt begged you for something…anything. You’d never cussed in front of Professor Snape before, but he could feel the urgency in your voice.

“You must relieve it” He snapped. Frustrated with the decision he knew was about to have to make.

“Severus…” You begged desperately, using his first name for the first time ever. You weren’t even sure what you were begging him for. 

“I must speak bluntly, Ms. Y/L/N, so listen carefully. You are no longer my student. I am not your professor. But this must happen in order to save you.” He began frantically, checking again to make sure the doors were locked. His clarification of your relationship with one another seemed to be more of a reminder for himself than for you. 

“Save me? Christ, will this kill me?” You cried out.

“Yes. If your body is not brought to orgasm several times, it will begin to affect the very core of your nervous system. There is no other way to stop it.” He explained. Hearing him talk about orgasms was unexpected but it aroused you.

Dammit, you thought, can’t he just fuck me? 

No. No matter how much you wanted him right now, you did not want to put him in that position. 

“Okay, I will…I will go back to my room now” You managed to say. He sighed in anticipation of what he would say next. 

“You can’t do it yourself” He began, his voice faltering as he failed to make eye contact with you, “It has to be another person”.

Snape knew exactly what had to be done. The moment he saw the spearmint you placed in his hand, he knew. 

Suddenly, your legs trembled beneath you and your knees buckled. As you felt yourself fall, Professor Snape quickly caught you. His arms wrapped beneath your arms and he lifted you up onto the desk. You whimpered in reaction to this contact against your skin. It was…electrifying, but you were running out of time. Your body was running hotter by the second. In a feeble attempt to cool yourself, you peeled the robe from your shoulder. 

“Please” You begged, gesturing to the fabric that held you hostage in your misery. 

“I-” Snape began, reaching to grab your robe. His eyes searched yours for uncertainty but found none. The expression he held revealed what he couldn’t say. He wanted you. He wanted to help in more ways than one. But no matter what he told himself, he couldn’t help but feel that it was wrong. 

While you squirmed on the table, you watched as Professor Snape eyed the remaining liquid in the cauldron. It was only a few drops, but it was enough to at least bring a man to his knees for a woman begging him to fuck her. But he didn’t need it in order to want you. Snape needed it to convince himself it wasn’t wrong. 

He breathed out heavily before pouring the few drops into the glass and throwing it back, getting as much as he possibly could. Snape winced at the flavor. 

“Professor…w-what are you doing?” You whimpered through your words. 

“We both took the potion. We thought it was a calming draught, and it wasn’t. And we did what we had to do to treat the effects” He responded quickly as if it was rehearsed. You knew what he was insinuating. If anyone found out, if anyone asked, that’s what happened. If Snape was under the effects of this potion too, he would need his release, same as you. With only a few drops, It would be less intense for him, so he could better handle himself. 

“If you’ll allow me, I will help you, my dear” He whispered as he came closer to you propped on the table, holding his face close to yours, speaking sensually against your lips. In one swift motion, he pulled the black robe off your shoulders, letting it rest on the table, leaving you in your sweater and mini skirt. 

Before you could even finish your nod of approval, the hem of your skirt was being pulled up frantically, followed by his wandering fingers that stopped just at the hem of your panties. You were practically dripping and he could feel it. 

“Oh darling” He groaned, standing between your open legs and pressing his lips against your ear. Every hair on your body stood up when he finally got this close to you, “You are so wet for me” 

You rolled your hips against his hovering fingertips. As you looked down, you faintly noticed the bulge that grew in his pants. You weren’t sure if it was the microdose of the potion, or how arousing it was to be in this situation with you, but it was a most intoxicating sight. You could feel the heat radiating from him and knew that he was fully under the effects of the potion. Not nearly as badly as you, but he was about to lose control.

“Professor Snape, I can’t take it anymore, please” You begged him. You needed something inside of you, now.

“Very well” He smirked subtly as he pulled the soaked fabric to the side and pressed his fingers flush against your clit before rubbing rhythmic circles. 

“Fuck!” You cried out and threw your head back, which was quickly caught by Snape’s hand. He held your head up to meet his gaze. The aching and burning persisted but were soothed slightly once his skin was upon yours. It was a surprise to be so reactive to the faintest of touch, but the angry fever burning your skin was electrified, enhancing every single one of your senses. 

“Look at me, Y/N. Oh, you sound so lovely” His voice was like honey as he talked you through your pleasure, admiring the sounds that flew from your lips.  

You locked your gaze with his and stared deep into him. 

It was overwhelming. All of it. The state of your writhing body. The way he looked towering over you. The feeling of his fingers on your delicate bud. Seeing him in such a vulnerable state, something you’d never thought you’d see in a million years. It was all so incredible and absolutely riveting. You thought you might be dreaming.

Snape’s thumb remained working at your clit while two fingers were suddenly pushed inside your cunt. Your walls clenched around his digits as he began pumping them in and out, curling them with every stroke. 

“You need to come. Come for me” He insisted, knowing that the first orgasm would help begin to subside your symptoms. You could’ve reached your high just from the sound of his voice alone, so you knew you were close already. 

Your mouth fell open as the tightest coil of nerves bundled at your core. Suddenly, without hardly any warning from your own body, your orgasm burst open, radiating and flowing through every fiber of your being. Stars danced in your eyes as the euphoria washed over you. Moaning and profanities filled the air, breathless and aggressive as it took you over. 

“That’s it, my love, just like that” He encouraged you through it, keeping his pace while he fucked you with his fingers. You curled your hips, riding his hand instinctively. You came down so slowly, feeling delirious but still hungry for more. More of him.

His cock was stiffened and strained in his trousers, begging to be released, but not until he ensured you were okay after your first high. You reached for the hem of his pants in desperation. 

“I need it” You struggled to form your words. 

“You need my cock? Is that what you need?” He whispered to you, watching your face twist in pleasure as his fingers curled harder with each thrust. 

“Please, Professor” You begged. There was something so hot about calling him that in this setting. He could never admit it, but he loved it, too. 

“As you wish”

He pulled his fingers from your pussy, leaving you empty and clenching around nothing. You whined at the loss.

He watched you struggle to remove your sweater and glided his hands up the side of your body to help pull it over your head, which revealed you wore no bra underneath. Snape growled lowly in approval of the sight. Your bare breasts glistened with sweat under the candlelight. He delicately trailed his fingers down the front of your body, circling your stiffened nipples along the way.

For the first time, he kissed you. His supple lips pressed firmly into yours, adding another layer of intimacy you were not expecting. You moaned into him, feeling his hands cup your burning cheeks as he pulled you into him. As you sat at the edge of the table with Snape positioned between your legs, you felt him shuffle with the clasp of his pants. 

Excitedly, you pulled away from the kiss to see his impressive length released from its restraints. Your thighs clenched together at the sight, which caused you to moan. You could see it on his face, he was burning with the same passion, but he was nervous. Maybe with less of the potency of your accidental creation, you would have had the luxury of anxiety, but not in this state. 

“Are you doing alright?” He asked you, one hand on the back of your neck, forcing your gaze onto him, and the other grasping the base of his cock, ready to give you exactly what you needed. What he needed. 

“More than alright” You breathed. 

“Good” He smiled back at you. You realized in this moment that he’d never fully smiled at you before, and it warmed your heart. 

Hurriedly, he yanked your panties off your body, throwing them to the ground. He pushed up your skirt, making sure it was out of the way. Ever-so-conveniently, the table was at his hips’ level, putting his cock at the perfect height.

He plunged into you, hard. A strangled, choked whimper caught in your throat as you felt overwhelmed with the fullness. Professor Snape sucked in a sharp breath, pleased with how you wrapped around his cock so perfectly. 

“Oh my God” You cried out as he began thrusting slowly, allowing you to adjust to him. It could not last long though, because Snape could feel the animalistic urges overcoming him. 

“Oh, fuck” He groaned deeply, staring down to where his cock disappeared inside of you. 

Something unraveled within Snape. His cautious demeanor was long gone. His brows furrowed into almost an angry expression as he snapped his hips passionately, fucking you hard and ruthlessly now. Your whole body tingled and spasmed in reaction to each thrust. His cock stretched you so wonderfully, and he was intoxicated by the way you took him. Like you were made for him. His hands gripped both sides of your waist, using your curves as leverage to go deeper. 

“You take my cock so well, darling” He praised, increasing his pace.

“It feels s-so fucking good, Professor. I’m going to come again, please…don’t s-s-stop” You stuttered, tripping over your own words as you felt drunk off the pleasure. With the rise of your next orgasm came the subsiding of the heat that coursed through your veins. 

“My pretty little whore, come on my cock” He growled, angling his hips at a deeper angle so that his cock brushed your most sensitive area with each thrust. 

It came over you again so suddenly, sending your body into a pleasurable convulsion. Snape pushed you backward, laying you flat on your back atop the table, and wrapped his fist around your throat. The pressure against your neck made your mind go fuzzy as you rode the high of your second orgasm. 

It felt…otherworldly. Like nothing you could’ve ever imagined. He faltered none in his thrusts as you floated through such indescribable euphoria. As you came back to what felt like reality, you opened your eyes to see Snape admiring you in your most vulnerable state, continuously taking his cock like you were made for it. 

Just one more. You only needed one more. You could feel it. One more orgasm would treat these effects. The only problem was, your body was weakening, and you weren’t sure if you could take it.

“One more, darling. Just one more” He breathed through his moans.

“I-I can’t” You cried. 

“You can. You must, Y/N.” He reminded you with encouragement, “Be a good girl and give me one more”

You nodded weakly. While he fucked you hard, he brought his fingers up to your swollen clit to bring you to your third release. You spasmed beneath his touch. It felt so good. Too good. You squirmed involuntarily, but Snape was not having it. He pulled his length out of you and quickly turned you around, bending you forward to press your face into the table. 

Before you could even process what was happening, he sunk himself back into you from behind and resumed his relentless thrusts. He could hold you down better in this position. He was more in control. 

Even quicker than the first two, your third orgasm unleashed itself upon your body. You writhed and cried out his name, mixed with other profanities as it washed over you. You had an unfamiliar feeling coiling in your lower belly. Before you knew it was even happening, you were squirting through your orgasm, something that had never happened before.  Snape groaned lowly in approval. 

This orgasm was followed by an icy flush that mixed with your blood, taking the burning sensation away completely. It was an ultimate feeling of relief. The pleasure was so intense, a stray tear trickled down your cheek.

“I am close” Professor Snape muttered.

“Come inside me, professor” You whimpered, sending him over the edge instantly.

His thrusts faltered and slowed as a warmth spilled deep inside your walls, coating your cunt completely. Snape bent over to press his chest into your back as he caught his breath. You both were slowly coming down from not only your release, but from the effects of the potion. You expected to feel shame or embarrassment, but neither occurred. 

He was careful pulling out of you, knowing how weak your legs probably were. You tried to catch your breath as he offered his hand, helping you to your seat near the table. 

Without another word, he helped you back into your sweater to allow you to regain your decency as soon as you could. It was hard to process what had just happened, but you truly did not regret even a single second of it. 

“I am sorry for what had to happen, Ms. Y/L/N” Professor Snape said as he kneeled down to look at you. His eyes looked sorrowful and full of guilt, like he blamed himself for what happened. It broke your heart to think he felt this way. You enjoyed this and you know he did too. 

You smiled and held a sleepy expression as you giggled and shook your head. 

“I’m not” You confidently responded.

The same smile you saw for the first time earlier returned to his lips.

“Good” He muttered. 

——-

Please forgive any canon inconsistencies. This was entirely self-indulgent lmaooo. Obviously this potion does not exist and I made it up based on actual calming draught ingredients!

#severus snape #professor snape #snape x reader #severus snape x reader #severus snape x you #harry potter #harry potter fandom #smut #fluff #pollen #sex pollen #dub con #snape headcanons #snape smut #snape x fem!reader #female reader

[novellafaire]

TWST BOYS AS YOUR BOYFRIEND

Just some headcanons on what I think they would be like as boyfriends ♡

Heartslabyul - Savanaclaw - Octavinelle - Scarabia - Pomefiore - Ignihyde - Diasomnia (here!)

• this man is a hardcore simp for you

• he admires how you don’t fear him, and that you instead seek him out, treating him as you would anyone else

• given that you’re dating, it means he trusts you wholeheartedly already, and that he plans on maintaining this relationship long term forever

• nightly walks!!

• it’s so peaceful, and the chances of people interrupting you are slim, so he enjoys taking the time to spend with you

• please listen to his rants about gargoyles

• if you do, and can remember what he says about them, he’ll fall even harder for you

• just the fact you’re trying makes him unbelievably happy

• ice cream dates!!

• two things he enjoys at the same time; you, and ice cream

• given that he is a heir apparent to the throne, he will warn you about the responsibilities you’ll have to deal with in the future because you’re dating him

• if you pursue the relationship even after knowing that, he’ll be so happy and relieved

• more possessive than he is jealous

• he is a dragon after all

• he’s more envious of the amount of people you know, and how people aren’t scared to approach you, nonetheless talk to you

• his possessiveness shows when other people are affectionate to you

• is that thunder in the background?—

• he does not appreciate it when people start flirting with you, and he will make his presence known if that happens, which effectively stops the person

• comfort him and shower him in affection when this happens

• he loves your affection so much

• not big on PDA, given his princely status, but in private he is extremely affectionate

• holds you in his arms all the time, which is incredibly comforting given his tall stature

• will let you touch his horns, but they are sensitive so be gentle

• finds your compliments endearing, but if you called him cute or something sweet like that, he may malfunction for a minute

• will want you to get a tamagotchi as well so Roaring Drago can have a friend!!

• you guys take care of them together like they’re your children

• nobody would dare to mess with you. period.

• if they know you’re dating *the* Malleus Draconia, then they know not to bother you unless they have a death wish

• Malleus is protective of you and he makes that very clear

• arguments don’t really happen that much, but if they do it’s not explosive and usually can be resolved easily by just talking it out

• most of the time it’s probably caused by miscommunication

• will often pay you random visits at Ramshackle

• would absolutely MELT if you made sure to invite him to things

• that means the world to him

• Lilia adores you so much, and was very much a wingman in helping you and Malleus get together

• he’ll make sure both of you guys are happy in the relationship and are being treated right

• Silver doesn’t have much of an opinion of your relationship, he trusts Malleus’ judgement

• he will protect you ardently though as well

• Sebek… has very mixed feelings about you

• on one hand, he’s appalled that Malleus would allow himself to love a “lowly human”

• and before you and Malleus began to officially date, Sebek would constantly try to keep you away from Malleus

• except that always backfired and made Malleus irritated

• and so now that you’re officially dating, he’ll actively protect you as well, given that you’re the lover of his Lord

• would definitely show you his dragon form if you wanted him to

• he would bend over backwards to make anything you wished for to come true

• he spoils you

• even if you want something practically impossible, he will somehow make it happen

• would love for you to meet his grandmother, but understands how intimidating it would be for you, so he’s willing to wait until you become more comfortable with the idea of entering a royal family

• loves telling you stories

• and listening to anything you say

• every word that comes out of your mouth he will cherish beyond a doubt

• he will research any of your interests, and actively ask you questions about it so he can hear you talk more about them

• over all, Malleus is the type of boyfriend who will love you deeply and immensely ♡

• chaotic

• will actively try to jumpscare you because he finds your reactions amusing and adorable

• loves surprises

• would always try to cook you food and give it to you, but thankfully Silver (a literal godsend) will always swoop in and save you from having to eat his father’s cooking

• Upside down kisses!!

• Lilia loves doing those because he gets to catch you off guard while also getting a kiss

• to him it’s perfect

• also loves to pepper your face with kisses

• and pinch your cheeks

• is totally fine if you do it back to him as well

• on that note, he doesn’t mind PDA at all

• also lowkey enjoys how it embarrasses Silver (and Sebek)

• he will sing to you

• if you can’t sleep, you’ll get to hear one of his infamous lullabies

• he will also play pranks on you a lot

• would love it if you gamed with him

• not at all a jealous person

• he’s been alive long enough to understand that he shouldn’t feel that way — he loves you and you love him, and that’s all that matters

• if someone did try to flirt with you, he would be more amused than anything else (unless ofc you were uncomfortable)

• Silver and Sebek are usually the ones to stop anybody else’s advances on you

• he will tell you stories of things he’s been through

• sometimes they’re so far fetched that you doubt he’s being serious, but he always is

• if someone talked bad about you or messes with you, Diasomnia will band together to take care of them

• Lilia would corner the perpetrator, condemn them for their actions/words, and then let Silver and Sebek take over, under the pretense of letting them train their knightly skills

• he would probably teach you at least basic self defense so he knows you can be safe even if he’s not around

• you’re seen as the other parent in Diasomnia… even though chances are you’re significantly younger than them ( at least Malleus and Lilia)

• he’s amazing at comforting you when you’re upset

• his dad instincts kick in and he’s coddling you in his arms, listening to you and then giving his perspective

• headpats!!

• arguments don’t happen much between you guys because Lilia has a lot of experience and he knows how to avoid such issues

• loves floating by you, and teasing you when you can’t reach something

• Malleus is fond of you because Lilia is the person who has been by his side his whole life, so he’s happy that Lilia has found someone he loves

• Sebek respects you greatly because of how much he respects Lilia — he is nothing less than a gentleman when you’re around

• Silver appreciates you greatly

• at first he was unsure of you (because he only wanted the best for his father), but when he saw the way Lilia looked at you

• he knew just how much you meant to him

• so now Silver will do anything he can to protect you as well

• over all, Lilia would be a very fun and chaotic boyfriend ♡

• such a gentleman

• he’s literally so sweet to you omg

• most of your dates are you guys cuddling, but it’s great because Silver is literally the best cuddled there is

• anytime you sleep by him, it’s the best sleep you’ve ever had

• the fact you don’t judge him for his habit makes him so thankful as well

• the animals that always seem to surround him grow fond of you as well

• he isn’t much of a jealous person because he trusts you immensely

• but that doesn’t mean he likes it when people flirt with you, and so he’ll be by your side in a heartbeat

• sometimes he does get worried though that you might leave him for someone who can always give you their full attention ):

• will teach you how to use a sword if you wanted to

• especially because it helps him feel more comfortable knowing you could defend yourself

• not that he thought you couldn’t before, it just helps reassure him, that’s all

• horseback riding dates!!

• if you’ve never ridden a horse before, that’s okay, he’ll guide you

• he also loves it when you guys ride on one horse together, so you can wrap your arms around his waist with one of his hands resting over yours

• would also love it if you came to watch him in the equestrian club

• if someone talks bad about you or messes with you, they’ll witness one of the rare instances where Silver is genuinely mad

• he will tell them off for how wrong their actions were, and then proceed to make sure you were alright

• on that note, he’s okay at comforting verbally, but amazing at comforting physically

• his hugs are so soft and sweet, and you can feel how much he cares about you

• he doesn’t see the point in PDA, but it’s not uncommon to find you guys napping together out in the open

• his hugs are the best

• always has a soft smile on his face when you’re around or when he talks about you

• Lilia also played wingman for him

• Silver always feels terrible if he fell asleep on accident while you were talking

• but he always reassures you that he was listening to everything you said (which is true)

• will protect you from his father’s cooking

• does everything a gentleman would do

• gives sleepy kisses that are so soft and gentle

• arguments are essentially nonexistent between you two, given that his personality is incredibly calm that it also exudes a sense of calmness to those around him

• that, and you guys make sure to communicate well

• will hold your hand and bring it up to his lips so he can kiss your knuckles

• forehead kisses!!

• he loves it when you play with his hair while he’s sleeping, especially when he can lay his head in your lap

• he will praise you, but not excessively

• Malleus likes you and is happy that you’re simply there for Silver

• Sebek thinks it’s ludicrous for Silver to have a partner when his sole duty should be to protect Malleus

• Sebek will complain about Silver’s lack of dedication to Malleus, but deep down he is glad Silver has found someone he loves

• Lilia absolutely LOVES you

• he’s so happy his son found a person he loves, and is so supportive

• he’s constantly teasing you guys, but he does it out of the goodness of his heart

• will 100% tell embarrassing stories of Silver as a child

• but seriously, he’s happy that Silver has someone else he can rely on

• especially cause he knows Silver’s lifespan isn’t the same as that of the fae…

• he’s glad that he knows Silver will always be happy with you around

• Silver is very happy that you and his father get along

• cause his father means the world to him

• over all, Silver is the sweetest boyfriend you could ever want ♡

• …

• why

• not going to lie, he probably never thought he would date anyone

• because to him his sole purpose was to protect Malleus

• and to be completely honest, that won’t change. Malleus will forever continue to be his main priority

• buuuut he does genuinely care for you (even if he refuses to admit it)

• he [affectionately] yells at you constantly

• and will lecture to you about how wonderful Malleus is

• but if will also listen to anything you have to say, no matter what it may be

• refuses to admit he’s a jealous person, and will always make up excuses

• the moment someone flirts with you though? he’s right there yelling at them

• arguments happen quite often to be honest

• and most of the time they have to do with his appreciation obsession of Malleus

• they can get pretty explosive as well, given his extreme emotions

• so it’s best to just give each other space before trying to solve the issue

• he loves it when you go to the equestrian club though because it gives him an opportunity to showcase his amazing skills

• will also teach you how to ride a horse, but he’s not exactly the best teacher there is

• he’s trying though

• he’s also not great at comforting people, given his inherently loud nature

• he’ll be very stiff while holding you in his arms, and gets flustered as he tries to think of ways to help you

• not a fan of PDA because he thinks it’s unbecoming of a knight

• ( and totally not because he gets easily flustered by the affection )

• will hold your hand tho, under the pretense of ensuring you don’t get lost

• even if you’re literally in your room

• if someone talked bad about you or bothered you, he would immediately be there to defend your name and honor

• basically he yells at them

• he’ll be extremely happy if you not only listen to his praises of Malleus, but if you also participated in them too (except he may feel the slightest twinge of jealousy)

• Malleus likes you, he just wishes Sebek would give you more attention

• on a similar note, Silver feels bad for you

• he will also roll his eyes at all of Sebek’s antics

• Lilia believes that your presence will help Sebek grow as a person, and is very supportive

• Sebek would love for you to meet his parents, but he would never admit that

• he really admires his mom so her opinion of you would matter quite a bit to him

• he just wants to make sure she also likes you

• with that in mind, Sebek would be a very interesting boyfriend ♡

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #twst diasomnia #diasomnia #twst malleus #twst lilia #twst silver #twst sebek #malleus draconia x reader #Lilia vanrouge x reader #silver x reader #sebek zigvolt x reader

[isthedogawolfdog]

I just saw a reel on Instagram, which I absolutely refuse to link because I don’t want to give it more views so I attached a recording of some of the more relevant parts above, but basically this woman (who I assume was a photographer due to the cameras and such) was in the middle of the Arctic doing who knows what. She starts off the video saying something “incredible” happened, and the footage then cuts to her being surrounded by roughly 13 wild wolves. Yeah, you read that right. Due to the poor quality that is my recording, I’ll try and break down what’s happening to the best of my ability.

Throughout the video you can see that the wolves seem not quite quite laid back, but aren’t scared. The wolf closest to the camera at roughly seven seconds in is regarding them with a look that kinda says “hey, what’s this?”.* All the wolves are either walking along on their path, or taking a closer look, not necessarily circling the two individuals but definitely keeping an eye on them. This is probably due to them not seeing people at all prior to this experience. Now, I know that might sound odd, but some areas in the Arctic or places super far north in general have wolves that just haven’t seen people. There was a documentary (which I forget the name of) that covered researchers interacting with a pack who hadn’t seen people. There was also a book (Never Cry Wolf by Farley Mowat) published a while ago that dealt with a pack similarly. When described, the behavior in both the book and documentary kinda reminds me of the wolves in this video.

A quick look at the animals tells me these people aren’t in any real danger, however, should the wolves get more curious and get closer things could probably get a bit tricky. Wolves being naturally neophobic, attacks on humans from healthy wild wolves are slim to none these days. Plus, you really shouldn’t interact with wild animals no matter what they’re acting like. Preferably these people would’ve tried scaring them away the second they saw them approaching (acting aggressive, maintaining eye contact, and whatever you do, don’t run!), but instead, we had to have a Disney princess moment.

In the extremely rare chance that the wolves had seen these people as food, we would be seeing more quicker movement, heads below their shoulders**, various behaviors to test and see whether the people were fit enough for a snack, etc. though this is not the case here. So why, might you be wondering, is this bad if the wolves aren’t hunting the people and the people aren’t interacting with the wolves?

Well, you should never, never, interact with wild animals like this, which if you’ve been following my blog for a while now you probably already know. These wolves, if they so happen to see people again, now associate people with something they can get close to without them getting hurt, which works great if you want a cool selfie, but isn’t good if you are a park ranger, a worried parent, or any other person in a position of authority really, let alone if you have a gun. Historically, if a wild animal (especially a wolf!) gets too close to people, they get shot. It doesn’t matter if the animal was exhibiting dangerous behavior or not, people can’t risk it. Basically, wolf getting closer to people and realizing they can do it without problems = them trying again at a time where things are different and people think “oh no, big and wolf!” and kill it.

I’m not sure how the encounter ended, but later footage shows the wolves farther away rallying as a group, so I assume everything went okayish despite the obvious errors. TL:DR, these people are endangering these animals with their need for a cool video, don’t be a Disney princess, and stay away from wild animals even if they look friendly.

*the wolf closest to the camera has its ears kinda flat and to the side, this is called airplane ears by some biologists (yes seriously) and it is a sign of uncertainty.

**fun fact: theories vary, but some have guessed that prey animals can tell whether a wolf is hunting from whether or not their heads are below their shoulders or not! This would explain why we see videos of wolves calmly walking passed a herd of elk while they stay rested, and why other times the elk will bolt as soon as they see the predator.

#wolves #wolf

[multiwreckedmess]

(a very horribly belated) February Filth Fest Day 21

Pairing: Yang Jeongin (IN) x gn!reader Prompt: Voyeurism WC: 2.1k Summary: We all have guilty pleasures. It just so happens that you are INs. TW/CW: No pronouns used but yn is femme coded. Masturbation (both yn and IN). Not consensual voyeurism. Otherwise pretty tame.

Once again for those with short attention spans and wandering minds - MINORS DNI. This is not meant to represent any person or event. This does NOT represent any skz member, I don't know them

 Jeongin’s room was the best room in the dorm. The other guys thought the reason was it was the largest of the four rooms in the apartment but he’d hardly done anything with all that space. In fact he wouldn’t have minded if the room only fit a small desk and twin bed as long as it had that window.

 The dorm was high enough up in the high rise apartment building that it was nearly impossible to effectively see into the apartment even without blinds drawn. The only conceivable way was to be in an apartment in a different building at the same level. Even then the chances were extremely slim that the timing would be right, or the curtains of both windows not drawn.

 He noticed you the first night in his room. The warm glow of your bedside lamp filling the frame of your window. Almost two in the morning and you were awake, just his luck, he grumbled internally as he shuffled to close his blinds. Exhausted, he tugged one long curtain halfway across his window with a huff. That’s when he saw you. Reclined on your bed, face illuminated by additional glow of your phone and one hand suspiciously south of your waistband. He gasped to himself, acutely aware he should not be watching this, that this is only meant for you but he couldn’t help it. The lump in your sweatshorts moving in languid circles, your nose scrunching and brows pleading, he couldn’t turn away.  His cock twitches in response, half hard and growing by the second. “Shit,” he whispered, palming himself. It’s not a scene meant for him, he knows it’s not meant for him. It’s meant for no one and that makes it all the more alluring. No performance, not an act, not lying. Brows softening, unadulterated bliss crosses your face. Ears burning he hastily closed the blinds, stomach fluttering and flopping. Breathing unsteady, the room swimming below his feet as he shuffled back to his bed. Shakily he shoved his hand in his boxers, dry hand pumping his hard cock. The tug reminds him that he shouldn’t be doing this. It’s not right. He practically blacks out as he cums into the fabric of his boxers.

 It only gets worse from that night forward. No matter how tired he was after schedules he found himself pressed to that glass window, waiting for his private show, heart pounding in his chest. Some nights, when he cracked the window open, he swore he could hear your moans. Your beautiful unfiltered moans, ragged and unabashed, as though no one could hear them. But he could. Or he wanted to believe he could. It was an addiction of sorts. A ritual. Every night he watched intently as he palmed his half-hard erection, waiting. His breath fogging the glass, nose pressed eagerly to it. A routine almost akin to brushing his teeth. And somehow you’d always been there, no matter how late he was.  You’re late. Not that you had a usual time but to him, you’re late. Jeongin thought he was late to begin with, frustrated that practice had gone so long. Frustrated with himself for not picking up the choreography faster, frustrated he’d kept everyone late. Frustrated and needing release. He grunts, free hand balling into a fist. Where the fuck were you? His bicep flexes. “Don’t fucking punch the glass idiot. That won’t do shit.”  Then you appear. And it’s well worth the wait. A small green bottle clutched in your hand and clad in lingerie, a delicate pink sheer babydoll. God the way your lips wrap around the opening of the bottle. His eyes roll back, thumb running over the tip of his cock. To have your lips around him like that. He shudders, forcing his eyes back open. You’ve placed the bottle on your nightstand splaying out on your bed for him to see everything. As much as he’d seen you, he’d never seen you as bare. Usually relying on imagination tonight he’d need his eyes more than his mind. His mouth runs dry as your hands sweep down your stomach.

 “Damn, for me?” He mutters to himself. “You shouldn’t have. You know I want you no matter what you’re wearing.”  One of your hands reaches over the unseen edge of your bed, pulling out a long white object. Holding it in front of you, you seem to study it carefully, yanking off a tag with a chuckle. It must be new. In all of his days watching you, he’d never seen you use any sort of toy and that one would’ve been seen.  Jeongin holds his breath as the wide white head of the wand disappears between your thighs. Suddenly your hips jump up, your eyes and mouth opening wide in shock. His grip around his member tightens to a vice, fighting to keep his eyes open. “Shit, not too fast, fuck.”  After a few clicks you lower it again, hips slowly writhing on the bed, lips pressing together tightly, eyes closing in ecstasy. Your nipples tent the flimsy fabric of the lingerie. If he was there, those cute little cups would’ve been ripped aside for him to lavish attention on your chest. How you would squeal and arch for him, what he would give to know what you sound like. Jeongin swallows dryly, trying to keep his focus on your expressions. Memorizing them for a test he’ll never be qualified for.  “Please, please, please,” he chants to the empty room quietly. “Cum for me pretty. Show me how good you feel. Make a cute mess between your legs. Ruin your sheets.” The pace of his own strokes move faster, hips joining and fucking into his tight fist. Thighs twitching in ancipation of his release he leans forward, nose smashed into the cool glass as if it helped him see just a little better.  Mouth hung open, feet pressing hard into the mattress, your hips cant up as your body shakes.  Jeongins shoulder rests against the window as his full strength goes into his palm. His lips burn from his teeth bearing down on them, reedy wheezes escaping through his nose as he pleads for release. What would your tummy look like covered in his cum? Brows knit he focuses on willing it to be. Shiny and glistening in the low light as it bounced off the liquid with your slowing breath. Pretty and pearly, spreading slowly as you giggled. “Gonna cum,” he announces to no one with a whine. His own mouth twisting into a silent oh, his legs and abs clench to brace for release.

 And then you look at him. Big eyes staring from your window into his. Jeongin would swear to it. You lock eyes with him as you cum violently against your new toy. “FUCK!” He yells. It’s too late, he’s too far gone. Abs tensing, cum splatters the window, dripping down slowly. His head bumps into the frame, blood gushing dramatically from a small cut. Frantically he closes the blinds and pulls up his sweatpants, underwear clinging to his still weeping cock. An unknown timer for a group member appearing at his door started the moment he yelled. Quickly grabbing the roll of toilet paper by his bed to blot his wound he races to right his clothes.  A knock.  “Hey! Innie!”  Minho’s voice is sharp, easily cutting through the closed door. Trembling Jeongin nearly rips the door off its hinges as he yanks it open. Minho, having been leaning on the frame, nearly tumbles with the sudden motion, catching himself with his dancer's grace and righting with ease.  “Hey- heard you yell,” he tries to ask casually what the commotion was, instead being equally awkward and stilted.  “Yeah, just, upset? Rehearsal, I was…practicing more?” Jeongin shrugs, mimicking a false sense of collectedness. Panting and sweating it’s the only excuse he can possibly think of to explain how disheveled he is.  “Okay well you’re bleeding so…”  “Slipped, hit the bed. That’s all. That’s what you heard.”  The older man looks him up and down and rolls his eyes before slowly making his way down the hall to his room.  It was too close.

 A buzz at the intercom jolts Jeongin from watching his favorite drama at the kitchen table. A cursory check at the apartment’s entry camera shows a package being dropped at the door, the courier not bothering to come up the rest of the way. Hair messy, socks shoved into slides, clad in gray sweatpants and soft cotton shirt, Jeongin calls the elevator. Anticipating one of several possible orders he’d placed to have arrived, he happily bounds to the small parcel awaiting him. But it isn’t awaiting him. The name on the top is unfamiliar and as he reads farther down he realizes that it isn’t in fact for this building at all.  He doesn’t have anything he’s doing that day, Jeongin decides with a sigh. “Don’t worry buddy, I’ll get you home,” he says, patting the parcel and placing it beneath his arm. Luckily the trip isn’t long, it’s just across the street, one building number off.  Fixing his glasses he studies the apartment number. Also not the same has his, the final two numbers are flipped. He smiles, poor courrier must have number dyslexia or they’re having a rough day. Dialing the apartment he smiles into the half orb of the camera, waving politely and holding the package.

 The door buzzes open to let him in. But of course Jeongin’s not one to just leave a package stranded in a mailroom where it could get lost or stolen. Instead he calls the elevator, a mirror image of his own apartment lobby, and selects the floor. His heartbeat speeds up. Why was he doing all of this again? He’s just being a friendly neighbor! Jeongin excuses. There’s nothing strange about a fellow neighbor bringing misplaced mail to its correct door! He’s not being weird.  The elevator opens to a hallway, not unlike his own again, with a small window at the end, facing his building. Drawn in like a moth, Jeongin presses his fingertips to the glass as he looks up. Although from this angle and in the daylight there wasn’t much to see but glass and concrete. Only a floor up, his room. He could tell. Curtains drawn tight. Still he counts, each floor to confirm. Slowly his head turns to look at the door next to him and then down at the package. And then the door opens as his head lifts to confirm the number again.  It’s you. Standing at the door with a smile and extended arms. Jeongin’s pulse quickens. He’s going to finally hear you speak. Finally know what you sound like. His lower abdomen seizes as his spine tingles in anticipation. Your lips open as you inhale, ready to catalog and file every vowel you utter into his memory for further review. Lungs halting at the top of the inhale he waits as you stand frozen. It doesn’t feel right suddenly. He tries to check the package again but his vision keeps going black. In fact he can’t even remember how he saw the address to begin with. The door is closed again in front of him and you’re gone. The window is gone too. The lights disappear. And then it’s all black.

 His underwear is still sticking to him uncomfortably as he kicks the sheets off in a desperate bid to wake up. With a groan he sits up. Blood dried over his cut he carefully inspected his face in the mirror. A dream, a weird dream, Jeongin repeats to his reflection. Really, really, very, very, super, weird WEIRD dream. Finally he draws open the blinds, revealing the streaky dried mess from the night before. Licking his teeth to summon more saliva he grabs a pair of dirty boxers from the floor and spits directly onto the window. Pressing his full weight into his arm he scrubs away the shame, or what he can. He’s half out of it as he works, at first in small circles and then in large swipes up and down. Still streaky, although less cloudy and obvious as to what substance marred the view. What he needs is window cleaner, but for now this will have to do.

 Dumb to let himself get overwhelmed, dumb to have done it in the first place, dumb to have continued. He chides himself silently as he stares into the dark of your room from his. A thousand drastic thoughts cloud his mind almost enough to miss the small white paper with hastily scrawled bubble numbers on it hung askew in your window.

 “Call me.”

I'm a procrastinator what can I say.

IN has been wrecking me a little too hard lately and not to necro an ancient post but fuck it what's done is done.

#in smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #yang jeongin smut #jeongin smut #february filth fest

[bardcore-jaskier]

♡ Challenge for Netflix: stop treating Jaskier as comedic relief ♡

(I made this post piggyback riding off of my last one, like a part two if you will.)

Ok, so you know how Jaskier always seems to get into trouble? And either Geralt and as of season 2, now Yennefer as well, always seem be rescuing him? Even Jaskier himself made a joke about it to our beloved witch.

- "You don't get to play damsel in distress. That's my job."

Sadly, it paints a little bit of an unflattering picture of him to the audience, making many of us wonder (well, not on this side of Tumblr, we know he is a badass motherfucker) about how he survives whenever he is not by a strong witcher's/sorceress's side.

Have you considered though....

That the entire series is written and shot from the POV of ridiculously powerful individuals and Geralt in particular, being the main character of both the books, games & the series, has an extreme savior complex, more so bordering on a martyr complex.

In the Netflix Witcher series and unlike the books: Geralt's friendship with Jaskier started off rocky until he begrudgingly accepted that he can not get rid of the bard, eventually becoming a little fond of him, appreciating Jaskier's loyalty above every other quality Jaskier has, which makes Jaskier easy to trust. (However it is still apparent that their friendship is a little, if not a lot, one-sided)

Obviously Geralt doesn't want Jaskier's death or severe injury on his conscience, which is why he jumps in every time he senses danger, to save him before anything bad happens.

We as the audience only see Netflix's or rather Lauren's version of the story about a scorned hero who has a fragile, trouble magnet, human friend he feels responsible for. When in reality, the only few instances Jaskier wouldn't have survived without outside help were a) the Djinn, b) Rience, c) the opening scenes of Blood Origin.

Other than that, Jaskier is actually a VERY competent person! Alas, not much of that competence was shown on screen, we got mere crumbs of it to be honest. Like how despite being a flowery pacifist, he is braver than most + apparently he is a beefcake too. At 18/19 years old, he wasn't scared of approaching a witcher who at the time, was rumored to be a murderer. He always finds a way to stay lighthearted during the most dire of situations, always getting right back up with a smile or a snide comment after every traumatic experience, as if it never happened. (Is he like immune to PTSD or something? Nothing brings him down.) He even managed to start an elf smuggling operation for fuck's sake!

During the finale episode of season 2, many seasoned witchers died in battle at the hands of Voleth Mier, his chances of surviving were beyond slim. Any other normal human being would have dropped that damn jasper and ran for their life, but not Jaskier! No sir! He crawled his way towards Geralt under a wooden table, as monsters and witchers alike dropped to their deaths around him, all to help his friend!

In the books, Dandelion is presented to us as a smooth talker, able to get himself in and out of almost any kind of trouble with words + charisma alone. He is an Oxenfurt professor, has worked for the Redanian intelligence, he has connections all over the continent.

And I really hope that we will get to see all of that in future seasons, I hope that Geralt's attitude towards him changes, I hope that Jaskier gets the respect he deserves! Because after season 2, I am going to keep watching the series only for Jaskier alone. Also Yennefer. I do not much like Geralt and Ciri in the live adaptation at the moment.

#jaskier #julian alfred pankratz #netflix witcher #witcher netflix #dandelion #jaskier dandelion #geralt of rivia #witcher geralt #witcher ciri #cirilla of cintra #cirilla fiona elen riannon #yennefer of vengerberg #yenneferthewitcher #competent jaskier #bamf jaskier #geraskier #lambskier #yennskier #part elf jaskier #rant post #vent post #challenge for Netflix #netflix #lauren hissrich #joey batey #henry cavill

[love-kurdt]

This is Me Trying (byler): 2

word count: 10,471

warnings for this chapter: maaaajooorrrr depression!!! brief sexual content, homophobia, underage drinking, panic attacks, driving under the influence, near-death experiences, suicidal ideation. this is semi-autobiographical so pls be kind <3

in short: if you are emotionally or mentally vulnerable, please dni.

Mike’s eyes danced across the ceiling of Carter’s bedroom where, surprisingly, no one had come in and tried to kick him out. He detested popcorn ceilings. They were so… textured. Texture should not belong on ceilings. Maybe it was a good thing that things didn’t end up going any further with Carter, because then, he would’ve been staring up at a goddamn popcorn ceiling while Will Byers’ doppelgänger had his way with him.

He laid on his back with his skinny legs hanging off the edge of the bed, and folded his hands together over his stomach as he got lost in the travesty that was the popcorn ceiling. He tried to imagine that the endless expanse of polystyrene was actually just extremely puffy clouds, a bowl of cooked white rice, or freshly fallen snow that had recently been compacted together by a winter boot. His eyes trailed to the junction between the ceiling and the wall, which was adorned with a string of multicolored lights. He liked those kinds of lights, even if they kind of reminded him of the ones Joyce used to communicate with Will in the Upside Down. Over the years, slowly but surely, one of Vecna’s various torture mechanisms became simply Christmas lights again.

Fuck, Christmas break was coming up soon. He needed to get Nancy and Holly gifts before making the trek back to Hawkins. He hoped he’d have enough room in his car for everything, since he wouldn’t be returning after break. The realization hit Mike out of nowhere; since he no longer had a school to attend, he’d never have an academic “break” ever again. The last one he’d participated in was Thanksgiving, and he’d wanted to have one last memory of his parents being proud of him before he became the full-fledged failure of the family. It was evident, from the way his father had made multiple homophobic remarks aimed directly at Mike from across the dinner table, that he’d already failed. He chose to keep his mouth shut about potentially dropping out, at the risk of making things even worse. Now that his college career was officially over, though, “Christmas break” would be just “Christmas” from here on out.

He wondered if Will would be back in town for Hanukkah. He hoped so. The holiday season would be different this year. Mike would get the fuck over himself and leave the house. He would repair his purposefully neglected friendships. And he’d finally get the chance to see Will again, face to face. Though chances were slim, maybe Will would hear him out. Maybe Will’s hatred for Mike had faded a little bit. He still couldn’t quite comprehend the complexity of what exactly happened within the past year, and how what Mike already assumed to be pretty damn bad became even worse, considering how well the new year started off.

As soon as Mike had arrived back at his dorm in January, he diligently thumbtacked the post-it detailing Will’s phone number on the wall above his headboard. He wasn’t normally someone who believed in karma, omens, manifestation, or any of that hippie crap (because Mike was obviously a realist and a pessimist by nature), but he truly believed that seeing Joyce at Melvald’s was fate in its finest form. Forgetting his school supplies (along with his reluctance to just go back home and grab what he needed from his room) resulted in essentially coming out to Will’s mother. And that was one step closer to getting Will back. Now, all he had to do was call that number.

The post-it stayed on his wall for three months. Elvis hadn’t mentioned or questioned it; they weren’t official, anyway, so Mike was free to see whoever he wanted. Except Mike didn’t just want to see Will. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with Will. If only Mike could pick up the goddamn phone.

It wasn’t that Mike didn’t want to call; he wanted nothing more than to hear Will’s voice enveloped in grainy audio. He longed for the day he’d get to say Will’s name out loud instead of just writing it. But Mike was waiting for the right time to do it. He couldn’t call in the morning, because Will had insisted for years that, in the words of his stepfather, “Mornings are for coffee and contemplation,” and refused to be disturbed before 9am. He couldn’t call in the afternoon, because Will would most definitely be in class, or at work if he had a job, or hanging out somewhere with his new friends, and Mike didn’t want to impose upon that. And he couldn’t call in the evening, because what if the conversation went south? He didn’t want Will to go to sleep angry or upset, especially at him.

In reality, no time was a good time. Mike knew that confrontation was inexorable, and whether it came across as offensive or not was dependent upon how the conversation began. Mike, ever the strategist, prepared himself for a multitude of scenarios, from worst to best case; it turned out that predicting all possible outcomes during a supernatural war would help him immensely in this process. Ultimately, he chose to pick up the phone and call Will on the least problematic occasion he could think of: the date was March 22nd, 1990– also known as Will’s 19th birthday.

Mike had parked himself in the middle of his mattress, sitting criss cross on top of his navy blue comforter. He’d pulled his phone, monstrous, pale yellow, and with a spiral cord, off of his bedside table and into his lap. It wasn’t the most comfortable of positions to be in, and Mike’s back was slightly killing him (hunching over a notebook for hours on end all day probably didn’t help either), but it was the optimal setup for either an hours-long phone call or for slamming the handset back in place and hanging up as soon as the other end of the line picked up. But Mike knew he wouldn’t ever hang up. Never on Will.

Mike drew his eyes up the headboard of his bed and onto the wall until they met the post-it, in all its glory. Mike inhaled so hard he thought his lungs would spontaneously combust from the pressure in his chest. He feared his heart would stop the second the dial tone emerged from within the earpiece. Mike knew he had to do this now, or he never would. He’d already procrastinated doing this for too long. He gulped, his finger hovering over the rotary dial, and tried his luck.

The ringback tone went through once, twice, and–

One of the Christmas lights in the otherwise dark room flickered, causing Mike’s body to snap up to attention. He rose to defend himself from any monsters in his vicinity, ready to fight the– woah, he stood up way too fast. He was, apparently, still quite intoxicated. He sat back down on the bed, eyes still glued to the string of bright, colorful lights lining the perimeter of Charlie’s… Christopher’s room? Whatever. It started with C. After a few minutes of engaging in a staring contest with a fucking lightbulb, he let his shoulders go lax. Tension that he hadn’t realized had built up released from his neck as he rested his head on his palms. He wasn’t in danger, not anymore. Well, at least, not in the paranormal realm of things. The only monster he’d have to fight was himself. 

More specifically, the raging… situation that had yet to go down in his obscenely tight shorts. Cadence had done a number on him, even though it only lasted for approximately zero-point-five seconds. Mike shut his eyes tightly, not sure of what to do. He could wait longer, and run the risk of being caught with a very obvious boner by someone if they entered the room unannounced… or he could make a run for it and try not to be sidetracked by anyone he knew.

Mike opened the bedroom door a crack and peeked through, and thankfully, it didn’t look like the escape would be too arduous. He rushed out of the room, pushing through the multitude of bodies in search of the exit. The room was extremely hot, likely due to everyone’s combined body heat and the space heaters stationed in the corner of every room, which made it difficult to breathe. He hadn’t been much of a fan of the cold ever since he and Will got stuck in the Upside Down during the Vecnapocalypse. They’d ended up staying there for longer than initially anticipated; having almost kissed at one point, Mike freaked out and ran away, stupidly tripping on a vine and causing an entire side-battle in the Upside Down, nearly ruining the Party’s chance to defeat Vecna. So, no, he wasn’t much of a fan of the cold, but right now, Mike needed to escape the sensation of molten lava that crept up and slowly wrapped around his throat. His eyes caught a glimpse of the front door, and relief flooded through his veins.

But that feeling was short lived, because a vine curled around Mike’s wrist before he could take another step. He whipped around to see that the vine was actually a hand, and noticed that he vaguely recognized the hand’s owner, who was a girl from his Quantitative Literacy class. “Hey, Mike!” she smiled. She had black hair, light brown eyes, and a septum piercing. She looked badass. Bitchin’, as El would say. However, her bright teal eyeshadow, even in the dark, served as both a boner killer and the source for Mike’s impending migraine. So it was a blessing and a curse, really.

He tried to remember the girl’s name, but didn’t want to disappoint her when he’d admitted to not knowing it, so he uttered a painfully generic, “Hey! How are you doing’? Good to see you!” and gave her a rather light, impersonal hug. She appeared to be satisfied enough with his greeting. She pulled Mike down by his shoulder so she could talk in his ear without everyone hearing over the music.

“My friend over there saw you earlier and was wondering if you were single,” she said, pointing over to a group of two guys and two girls who were all huddled on the sectional couch. Mike raised a quizzical eyebrow. This conversation could go one of two ways. Mike hoped he wouldn’t have to make it awkward, but then again, he knew he probably wouldn’t ever see her again after that night. So that made him feel a little better in that respect.

“Oh,” he hesitated. “Uh… which one?”

“Shoot, I should have led with that!” she laughed. Mike laughed along, but his voice felt hollow. Luckily, she didn’t pick up on it. “The one with the blue hair! Her name is Chelsea.”

Mike looked over at the group, and made eye contact with the girl with the blue hair. He watched as she blushed and looked away. She was shy. She looked sweet. Damn it, Mike, now you’re gonna break yet another heart. What is wrong with you? Why can’t you just be normal?

“She’s pretty interested, you know,” the Girl With No Name said, unknowingly twisting the knife that rested permanently in Mike’s stomach. The lava curling around his throat became even hotter, burning through his skin.

“Yeah, totally, uh… that’s so cool!” Mike remarked passively. And yeah, it was cool, in theory… but hopelessly incompatible in practice. He glanced at the door, then back at the girl before telling her, “I hate to break it to you, but I’m straight as a circle.”

“Wait, what?” 

“I’m gay, like, really gay.” Mike blurted, probably loud enough for the entire room to hear. He heard someone whistle, and a few others cheered him on, but Mike wanted to burst into flames. The girl stared at Mike, stunned at his sudden outburst, seemingly at a loss for words. Mike felt himself choking on air. He needed to get out of there, and quickly. 

“Okaygottagoseeya!” Mike forced out in a single breath, not leaving any time for a response from anyone before he bolted through the crowd and out the door, successfully fleeing the scene. Grass met the soles of his Chuck Taylors as he continued to run across the campus quad, his breathing quick, ragged, and uneven. The frigid December weather did nothing to soothe the burning sensation throughout Mike’s body, which by now felt like it was burning from the inside out. His feet loudly slapped the pavement below him, and Mike was proud that he hadn’t slowed down or stopped yet. If one good thing were to come out of his time at the University of Indianapolis, it was his improved stamina from all the sex. Well, that’s fucking sad… and kind of hilarious, Mike thought.

He sprinted a few blocks, not caring to look for any oncoming cars. If he got hit, cool. Awesome. He’d thank the driver as he bled out in the street. But no one came to take him out of his misery. So he kept running, and running, and running. Mike’s long legs screamed as his practically nonexistent muscles struggled to carry him. The prickly, thin air he breathed in through his mouth reminded him of the sensation when he’d chewed a piece of mint gum and drank water right after. It was so fucking cold, but he was so fucking hot. Like, there was sweat dripping down his face. Or were those tears? Was he seriously fucking crying again?

Up until last year, Mike had never been the type of person to openly cry. He wasn’t raised to share his feelings or emotions. That was part of the reason as to why Mike had been so uncomfortable with the prospect of going to therapy. He never opened up to anyone, because he hated the feeling of defenselessness, and even more so despised the idea of being seen as weak. He prided himself on being the “fearless leader” of the Party. For fuck’s sake, he’d been the one to stare Vecna down as he thrust a sword straight into his heart. He’d proven his strength as a leader time and time again. But what would happen when Mike Wheeler let his guard down?

It turned out that Mike didn’t have to let his guard down; Will broke it for him. Will’s departure broke the dam of emotional repression that Mike had worked so hard for years to maintain. Mike suddenly became unable to stop himself from crying. He’d always silently envied Will for being able to express his emotions so freely, but now that Mike could do so as well, albeit uncontrollably, he didn’t envy Will at all. He wasn’t sure how Will had done it for all those years; the migraines, the exhaustion, the dehydration… It was awful. And Mike felt even worse when he recalled all the times when he was the reason for making Will cry.

Mike had also gotten accustomed to panic attacks. He had his first one on the day Will left. His mom came into his room to check on him. He’d looked up at her with scared, red-rimmed eyes, and his shoulders violently shook as he hyperventilated. His mom swiftly jumped into action, meeting Mike where he was at, grounding him, and helping him come back to earth. She’d held Mike in her arms as he sobbed, comforted him, and didn’t pry. But… she knew. He could never express enough gratitude towards his mom for what she did for him that day. Little did he know, though, that it only got worse from there. The second one happened after The Phone Call™, which led to his initial downward spiral. The third one happened in Warren Blakeley’s car after he’d been drugged and assaulted at that one party. And the fourth one… ‘twas a-brewin’.

Mike found his car despite his impaired vision, nearly ripped the driver’s side door off its hinges with how roughly he opened it, and slammed it shut behind him. He collapsed his entire body weight against the steering wheel before letting out the loudest, most guttural scream that he hadn’t even been aware he was capable of. He reached his hands up into his scalp, pulling fistfuls of hair with his hands as his surroundings melted away. Mike genuinely felt like he was going to die. Everything he’d said, done, and experienced within the past year and a half had been slowly building up inside him, and this was him finally cracking under the pressure.

Dear Will, I hate you. Dear Will, you broke me. Dear Will, I crave you. Dear Will, why? Why, why, why– Dear Will, fuck you. Dear Will, go to hell. Dear Will, I’m sorry. Dear Will, I miss you. Dear Will, I love you. Dear Will—

Mike turned his keys in the ignition, and the engine came roaring to life. He lifted his head up to the rear view mirror, rubbed his eyes a few times, and took a look at his reflection. The person staring back at him looked absolutely horrendous. He looked as if he hadn’t fully slept through the night since 1983. And that wasn’t far from the truth; Mike could count on a single hand how many a good night’s sleep he’d had since the day Will was first taken by the demogorgon, and all of those times, Will was there, by his side.

Mike shifted gears and turned his headlights on, pulling out of his spot and drifting out into the street. He knew what he was doing was a bad idea. Driving drunk was, first of all, illegal, and secondly, dangerous to not just himself, but to others. But he couldn’t give less of a shit; he’d figured out what he needed to do. He slowed down to a stop at the red light of the intersection where he’d have to take a left to go home.

“When you’re… different, sometimes you feel like a mistake. But you make [me] feel like [I’m] not a mistake at all. Like [I’m] better for being different. And that gives [me] the courage to fight on. If [I] was mean to you, or [I] seemed like [I] was pushing you away, it’s because [I’m] scared of losing you, like you’re scared of losing [me]. And if [I] was going to lose you, I think [I’d] rather just get it over with quick. Like ripping off a Band-Aid.”

The light turned green, but Mike didn’t turn left. He tapped his fingertips against the center console, drove straight ahead, past the light, and turned on his right hand signal.

He swerved onto I-65.

“Hello?” a familiar voice answered. Mike felt his breath hitch. His voice was deeper than Mike remembered. It was like he’d gone through a second puberty, if that were even possible.

“Will! Hi!” Mike exclaimed, sounding far too enthusiastic for his own good. He waited for a reply, but could only hear Will breathing on the other end of the line. He went to speak again, but Will beat him to the punch.

“… Mike?” Will said his name in a tone that Mike could only label as nostalgic dread. Oh god, he shouldn’t have called him. He shouldn’t have called him, but he did, and Will was on the phone, and had just said Mike’s name for the first time in a year.

Mike reclined onto his comforter so he was lying on his back with his knees bent, wrapping the cord around his finger a few times as he spoke. “Yeah, um… I was just calling to wish you a happy birthday, and to tell you that I miss you.” Well, that was vague, Wheeler. You can do better than– “And love you. So much.” …that. Fuck. Too far.

He heard Will gasp, then try to cover it up by clearing his throat a few times before responding. “How’d you get my number?”

Friends don’t lie, so Mike told him. “Your mom gave it to me over Christmas break.”

Will exhaled. Mike always savored that sound, and would have been content if that was the last sound he’d ever hear. But… that specific exhale didn’t convey contentment; this one was laced with light exasperation. “She shouldn’t have done that.”

Mike begged to differ. She most definitely should have done that, and Mike would be eternally grateful that she did. In the eleventh hour, where all hope appeared to have been lost in the most abysmal Christmas break to ever exist, Joyce Byers saved Mike Wheeler’s life. She’d given him a reason to keep on going.

“And you probably shouldn’t call me again.”

The color drained out of Mike’s face. His stomach churned with anxiety that seemed to exponentially increase by the second, and he suddenly felt the urge to throw up. This was the worst case scenario, but he didn’t think much of it. It was only a hypothetical, it wasn’t supposed to actually happen! Will was pushing Mike away. Again. But why?

“What have I ever done to you, Will?” Mike heard himself ask, his voice small. He felt like a kid again. At the end of the day, he was still a kid. He’d had to grow up too fast, a powerful disquiet having annihilated a majority of his childhood. He’d been so uncertain of where he’d end up after the war was over. And the one time Mike was sure of himself, sure of his feelings, and sure that Will Byers was his heart, he– 

“Enough. You’ve done enough,” Will’s voice, followed by the sound of the dial tone made Mike’s blood run cold. He set the handset back into its cradle, and continued to lay there on his twin-sized mattress, the rest of his body completely frozen. He felt his facial features involuntarily crumpling in upon themselves as the grief consumed him.

This had to be a nightmare. This couldn’t be real. Mike rarely prayed; he only did in life-threatening situations, where the probable end result was dying. But right now, Mike prayed the hardest he’d ever prayed in his entire life. Please, God, help me wake up. Jesus, Allah, Yahweh, whoever the hell you are, if you even exist at all… if this is real life, please kill me. I can’t live like this. After a minute or so, he opened his eyes. Nothing. Mike huffed a quiet laugh to himself; it was so typical of him to place responsibility on others, let alone God, to deal with his problems. He’d have to face this alone. He was always alone. And he fucking hated it.

Mike hated that he would never have Will in the way he wanted him, no, the way he needed him. Mike hated that he could never seem to get the closure that he believed he deserved. Mike hated that Will wouldn’t just be honest with him! You’ve done enough. What the fuck did “enough” even mean? Had he done something else? Did he do something other than that one time in August? Something during his first semester, or over Christmas break, that he couldn’t remember due to his steadily consistent, months-long intoxication? He couldn’t think of a single thing, which made him even angrier. 

He wished he could just… fall out of love with Will, or something. Maybe Mike could fall out of love with him. What was the worst that could happen if Mike picked up the handset again, and dialed the number written on that cursed post-it? What if he said to Will, “Actually, I don’t love you. That was just me being crazy”? Crazy together, that’s what would happen. He’d be reminded of the young boy who recognized his more-than-platonic love for Will; a version of himself that he could never get back; a boy who would call him out for lying to both Will and himself, because friends don’t lie. It wouldn’t be a lie to say that Will had hurt Mike badly enough to justify a grudge. At least he thought so. Then again, Mike hated grudges, and the person he became when he held them. Scratch that, he hated the person he’d become, period. He didn’t recognize himself anymore.

He’d started at the University of Indianapolis entirely heartbroken, but on the other hand, he’d finally discovered his identity as a young gay man. He met some new people, and fucked a lot more of them. But parties have to end sometime. Mike would lay in bed, covered in the sweat and cum of a random guy asleep next to him, and would get weirdly emotional when his mind would, as always, drift to Will. He’d sometimes close his eyes and pretend the guy was Will, and he’d fall for his own brain’s tricks, if only for a minute. After that minute was up, and he’d remember that Will hated his guts… he would drink. A lot. He was the life of the party… with a side of alcoholism. His temper got worse, his fuse got shorter, and his overall outlook on life became so cynical that he sometimes even contemplated dying, and not the kind of dying involving bones snapping and eyes exploding. But he’d never followed through with anything in his entire life, so he knew he wouldn’t be able to kill himself even if he wanted to.

The tears that previously poured out of his eyes like waterfalls had dried up, their presence remaining evident in the stiffness on the surface of Mike’s cheeks. He hiccuped, the sharp intake of air causing him to develop a cramp under his ribcage. He grimaced in pain, sitting up and lowering his feet to the linoleum floor. He shuffled to his wardrobe and opened it, sifting through some oversized sweatshirts, a windbreaker, and Will’s godforsaken yellow sweater before he found what he was looking for. It was over. This was it. He’d had his chance, and he lost Will for the third time in his life. He picked up the bottle of whiskey, unscrewed the cap, and raised it to his lips. Fuck Will Byers. Fuck everything.

The sun had traveled up and down across the horizon a few times following The Phone Call™ when he’d startled awake to a shrill ringing in his ears. He checked his alarm clock to see the time, and he rolled his eyes. He extended his arm out to grab the phone without having to move the rest of his body. “Bitch, I swear to God, you better be either pregnant or broken up with by Nathan, because it is two o’clock in the goddamn–”

“Mike. It’s El.”

Mike sat up then, his eyes wide with conviction. “El? Jeez, I’m so sorry for that incredibly blunt greeting. My friend Alex tends to call me around this time with all her latest life crises, so… I just kind of assumed.”

El hummed in understanding. “It’s okay. Let’s hope your friend Alex doesn’t actually get pregnant or broken up with, though.”

“Yeah, that would not be good,” Mike agreed with a laugh, leaning back onto his pillows and staring at the ceiling. He’d missed the sound of El Hopper’s voice. It had been way too long. “So, uh, what’s up?”

“I was hoping you’d be able to tell me,” El replied, and Mike’s reminiscing came to a full stop. Of course Will had called El. They were siblings who told each other everything. Even back when they were kids, especially after Joyce and Hopper finally got married, Will and El were joined at the hip.

“What happened?” she asked him, and Mike scoffed, lifting his free hand to run it through his hair, regretting it immediately when his fingers got caught in one of the many knots, since Mike hadn’t washed his hair in nearly a week.

“Wouldn’t it be counterproductive for you to hear the same story twice?”

“I want to hear it from your perspective,” El told him, and Mike clenched his jaw.

“Okay. Fine. Where do I start?”

“From the beginning would be great.”

So Mike told her. He started at the beginning, all the way back to when Will and El had just moved back to Hawkins in April of 1986. He told her about how he and Will hadn’t spoken for the whole six months that he’d been in California. He told her about how he had, in fact, written letters to Will; he’d just never sent them. He told her about the distance that Will carefully maintained between the two of them throughout the entire duration of the Vecnapocalypse, up until when they’d almost kissed in the Upside Down. He told her about how Will–

“And then a few days ago I called him to wish him a happy birthday and… El, I genuinely think he hates me. He hung up on me and… I don’t know. I don’t fucking know. I can't undo the past, and I can't get him out of my head.”

El remained silent for a few seconds, and Mike feared that their call might have been disconnected and he’d been talking to no one. But then, he heard the faint sound of El breathing, so he continued, “If any of this gets back to Will–”

“Why do you think I called you, Mike?” El cut him off, and Mike sat there in silence, unable to reply. “I called because I care, and because I want the best for both you and Will. Not just Will. I think you did the right thing letting him know you’re still there if he wants you to be.” Well that was… unexpected. And really kind, considering that this was the first time they’d spoken since she moved to Nashville. He truly had no idea why El still gave a shit about him after everything. He’d been a shitty boyfriend and a shitty friend, and these reasons alone were appropriate grounds to cut him out of her life. But El stuck around.

“Oh,” Mike whispered. “Thanks.”

“I just…” she trailed off. Oh no. What now?

“Just what?” he pressed, and he heard El sigh. Greeeaaaaat.

“I just think you shouldn’t have called so soon.”

“So soon?” Mike repeated, horrified. “El, it’s been seven months since I last spoke to him! When do you think should I have done it?” Should he have waited until they were out of school for the summer? Should he have waited until they were both out of college? Should he have waited until Will had forgotten about him?

“You should have let him call you,” El said to him, her voice strangely calm. “Or not called him on his birthday of all days. I don’t know, I’m just throwing ideas out there.” Yeah, no shit. Mike reached over to his bedside table again to pick up the bottle of whiskey, which still had about half left, and took a gigantic gulp, instantly regretting it when it scorched his esophagus.

“I don’t see how the fuck this is helping, Eleven,” he spluttered, wiping his mouth roughly with his sweatshirt sleeve. Sometimes, Mike wished El’s powers extended beyond telekinesis and telepathy, and, like, contained the key solution to all of his problems. That would be ideal. But no, she had to be all vague and mysterious and just throw ideas out there.

“Okay, well, if you want to be that way, then fine,” El’s tone turned cold. “I highly recommend you consider hashing it out in person.” She had no idea what she was talking about. The Will she had spoken to must have been a figment of her imagination, because Will had made it abundantly clear that he wanted absolutely nothing to do with Mike. As far as Mike was concerned, he’d never see Will again. But then El spoke once more. “I hope you and Will can eventually get your heads out of your asses and admit that you still love each other.”

With that, the line clicked, and Mike was alone with his thoughts. Or rather, one lone phrase, as the rest of his mind faded to nothingness: You still love each other. You still love each other. You still love each other. You still love each other. You still love each other. You still love each other. You still love each other. You still love each other. You still love each other. You still love each other. Those words played on a loop in Mike’s mind as he finished off his bottle of whiskey. From that moment on, “sobriety” and “Mike Wheeler'' would not appear in the same sentence, not until—

Woaaaahhhh! Livin’ on a prayer!!! The key change of the Bon Jovi song woke Mike back up with a start. This had already happened a few times, but thankfully, the loud rock music on Will’s mixtape would startle him awake each time he nodded off behind the wheel.

Mike concluded that he couldn’t blink anymore. Though his eyes were incredibly dry, due to lukewarm air blasting through the vents and directly hitting his corneas, blinking would cause Mike’s heart rate to lower and the rest of the world to move in slow motion. If only for a few seconds of his life, he’d trade out the mental torment, the anger, and the loneliness for tranquility, quiet, and warmth… then his eyelids would droop closed.

Mike pressed his foot a little harder on the gas pedal, trying not to get distracted by the corn fields that seemed to sway to the music with him. Hopefully Mike would get his third wind sooner than later (his second one was fleeting, and died out as soon as it began). The sun was coming up, which was definitely going to help keep him awake. The song ended, followed by a few seconds of suspended quiet between songs before a familiar guitar riff met Mike’s ears.

“Oh, fuuuuck me. Goddamnit,” Mike indignantly announced to the universe, gripping his fingers tighter on the steering wheel. The voice of Joe Strummer began to shout alongside the wailing electric guitar. Now, Mike was very awake. His mind became a film reel, playing back memories he thought he’d blocked out a long time ago.

Darling you’ve got to let me know / Should I stay or should I go? 

Once everyone had been debriefed on what was happening in Hawkins, Will and Jonathan immediately went to work on making customized mixtapes for everyone. Mike sat on his father’s La-Z-Boy in the living room and watched in awe as the brothers put their minds together and churned out each tape as if it were second nature. He couldn’t help but feel a little jealous of Will’s extensive musical knowledge, for one, as well as the strong sibling bond they shared. Having grown up surrounded by sisters, Mike often felt like the odd one out. His parents shamelessly and openly favored his sisters over him, which further excluded him, whether it was intentional or not, on their part. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like if they ever found out he was gay. That would be a disaster.

If you say that you are mine / I’ll be here till the end of time.

While Will and Jonathan were out getting more cassettes, Mike got a hold of and sifted through everyone’s handwritten lists. He had no idea Dustin enjoyed metal music so much; most of his list consisted of songs by Black Sabbath and Metallica. It wasn’t much of a surprise to him, considering how much of an impact Eddie Munson had made on the two of them. He still couldn’t believe he was gone. Part of him refused to accept it. Eddie could still be alive. He was just in the Upside Down somewhere. They could still save him. There was still time. There had to be time. Mike’s subconscious must have known he’d needed a distraction from the subject of Eddie— not dying— yes, dying, because he found Will’s list. To Mike, this list was a small glimpse into Will’s mind, so he decided to memorize it. He’d do anything to get closer to Will, even if it meant racking his brain in the process.

“You like my mix?” Will’s deep vocal timbre demanded Mike’s attention, and he swiveled his upper body around to see Will leaning over his shoulder, his hands planted on either side of Mike on the back edge of the chair. When did he get back home? That didn’t matter, because Will’s arms looked amazing in Mike’s blue and yellow striped shirt, stretching the short sleeves in all the right places. Was that a vein on his bicep? Mike gulped loudly, becoming flustered at their very close proximity. God, he needed to get ahold of himself. Pining over his best friend like this was not—

“I can make you a copy if you want,” Will said, and Mike’s eyes lit up in surprise. Will would really do that for him? Mike realized then that he hadn’t said any actual words during this entire interaction, and borderline blushed at the thought of Will rendering Mike speechless, but he needed to talk. Now.

“Really?” he asked, and Will nodded. “That would be amazing! Thank you!”

“Of course. I’ll have that ready for you in about an hour,” Will smiled, pulling out of Mike’s space, but not removing his hand from the recliner. Mike took this moment to shift in his spot to face Will, placing his hand atop his friend’s before he could walk away. Will turned back in Mike’s direction, eyes frantic yet welcoming. 

“You’ve always had the best music taste of the Party. I’ve missed it,” Mike had a sentimental streak, what could he say?

“You have?” Will squeaked out, seeming surprised at Mike’s confession. 

“Uh, of course! Why wouldn’t I have missed it?” Mike asked, and Will shrugged.

“I dunno, just… you’ve always liked synth pop stuff more than punk rock. Like, your first song on your list is ‘Smalltown Boy’ by Bronski Beat… which I’m not entirely shocked by? But I always thought you liked that kind of stuff over my taste.”

“Well, you thought wrong, Byers, because your music has always been my favorite to listen to,” Mike quipped, his voice infected by his ever-growing grin. “You taste top tier.”

Wait, did Mike just… What did he just say? He said, quote, “You taste top tier.” As in Will Byers, as a person… tasted top tier. What if… Mike’s mind meandered into treacherous territory as he wondered what Will tasted like– NO! Not now! He was just about ready to pass away right then and there. Mike could just imagine his headstone; Here Lies Michael James Wheeler. Cause of Death: Inability to Formulate a Fucking Sentence.

“Oh, do I, now?” Will raised an eyebrow, a smirk lifting a corner of his gorgeous mouth. Mike nearly fell off the chair. Could his egregious mistake have given him a little bit of leverage in the flirtation department? Will seemed to think so.

Mike played it off casually with a simple, “Yeah.”

“Cool,” Will remarked, placing his other hand over both of theirs, sandwiching Mike’s hand between Will’s palms. So Will liked being (accidentally) flirted with. Note to self, Mike thought, fuck up more often.

Mike smiled so big that his mouth nearly fell off his face. “Cool.”

So you gotta let me know / Should I stay or should I go?

It was the summer of 1989, and all was well. Hawkins was no longer nationally renowned as an extra-terrestrial hybrid between earth and hell, but simply as a small town in the middle of nowhere, Indiana. It was the summer of 1989, and Mike was lying on the basement couch with his legs hanging off the edge. His eyes were closed, and he wore his headphones which were attached to his Walkman, playing Will’s mixtape on repeat, just as Mike had from the second it fell into his hands back in 1986. He felt the thumps of the opening and closing of the basement door, followed by light footsteps treading down the stairs. He cracked a singular eye open, but opened them both fully when he registered that it was Will who was entering his space.

“Mike, we’ve gotta talk.”

It's always tease, tease, tease / You're happy when I'm on my knees 

“Okay, what’s up? Are you–” Mike sat up, pulling his headphones fully off his head and resting them around his neck. Then he saw the look on Will’s face. He looked livid.

One day it's fine, and next it's black / So if you want me off your back / Well, come on and let me know / Should I stay, or should I go?

“What the fuck are these?” Will spat. Mike’s eyes widened at what Will held in his hands. How did he–

“SHOULD I STAY OR SHOULD I GO NOW!!!” Mike cried out, cranking the window down with his free hand and letting the wind rush through his long, black hair. His sobs broke into a maniacal, rueful laugh as his hair violently whipped into his eyes. He lifted his left hand and extended it out the driver’s side window, feeling his fingers being forced apart and back together by the rippling sea of oxygen and carbon. Rock bottom felt like the top of the world.

“IF I GO THERE WILL BE TROUB-ALLLLLLL,” he yelled through the thick strands, spluttering a bit as some pieces made their way into his mouth. He tugged them away, but to no avail, as the wind obviously had a mind of its own, but Mike continued on with his tirade of near-incoherent screeching, face full of loose curls. “AMIFF I SHTAY ISHWILLBEE DUBALLLL!”

The road took a slight bend, and Mike obliged to the demands of the pavement. The sun was bright enough that it burned into his retinas. He pushed his hair out of his face once more to view the scenery, only to be met with a pair of bright yellow headlights belonging to a tractor trailer. Only now did he perceive the loud noise of the truck’s horn; his car radio had been blocking it out. He also noticed that he was in the opposite lane, and about to collide head-on with the trailer if he didn’t move fast enough,

With enough adrenaline to fuel a thousand demodogs, Mike swerved to the right and dodged the truck with only seconds to spare. He took a moment to process the fact that he could have died. He knew his hands held the steering wheel, and his foot was still on the gas, but the rest of him was thoroughly detached from reality. “Should I Stay or Should I Go” blared on through the speakers, but Mike could only feel the vibrations rumbling from the floor of the car. He could have died, but he didn’t. But he felt his heart stop, and it felt simultaneously comforting and cataclysmic..

Mike knew that he couldn’t continue on, not like this. As if the road could read his mind, a small lookout area appeared within his vicinity, and he took this as a sign to pull over onto the shoulder to regroup. He parked his car, turned the music down, and clasped his hands in his lap, waiting a few more seconds before turning the car off, unbuckling his seatbelt and opening the door.

The actual sun had begun to rise. The air was crisp, and the wind chill slightly nudged it into even colder temperatures, sending a shiver down Mike’s spine. He hastily cowered back into the lingering warmth of his vehicle, searching the passenger side for… there it was. He pulled a crimson colored University of Indianapolis sweatshirt from behind him and shoved it over his shoulders, zipping it up. He did a double take at what the block-style letters spelled out, rolling his eyes and laughing bitterly to himself at the sheer irony. He continued to laugh as he opened the car door once more, heading towards the lookout.

Mike stood at the top of a steep cliff, guarded by a rusty guard rail that looked like it would fall apart with the next gust of wind that hit it. The trees below him were bare, their branches contorting every which way, slicing the air around them like an army of spears. Beyond the line of trees he could see the miles-wide stretch of farmland, and the miniscule house that sat on the corner of the property, chimney smoking. In an atmosphere as peaceful as this one, Mike stood idly at the edge of the lookout, thinking about how this would be a beautiful place to die. If he were to lift just one leg over the rail…

Mike, don't do it! I don't need my baby teeth, twelve year old Dustin’s voice echoed from the back burner of his mind. Seriously, don't do it, man! Of course his thoughts traveled back to that time at the quarry. How could he ever forget? Even as a child, he’d been completely wrecked without Will. If this memory proved anything, it proved that history repeats itself.

Dentist's office opens in five, young Troy’s voice began, and Mike glanced down. This time, he wouldn’t be able to turn back. Four… This time, El wouldn’t be able to save him. Three… This time, no one would be there to grieve for him. Two…

“What are you doing, Mike? Is this a joke?”

“No, Will, I’m in love with you.”

“Don’t say that. Please don’t say that. You don’t mean it.”

“But I did mean it!!!” Mike screamed into the silence, startling a flock of birds below. He lifted his hands up to his face, covering his bloodshot eyes. He heaved out a low growl, raising his voice until it hit the top of his range, cracking with an agonizing shriek. “I meant all of it! I love you! I always have! Fuck, Will, why couldn’t you just see that?!”

He let out a quiet sob, but no tears followed; he’d cried the rest of them out over the course of the past few hours. His throat felt like it had been rubbed with coarse sandpaper. He took a step back from the ledge and kicked a few of the rocks at his feet, watching them fall. Mike decided he didn’t want to die that day; not by alcohol poisoning, not by tractor trailer wreck, and not by jumping off a cliff. The only way he could die was if he did all he possibly could to get Will back. He turned his back on the trees, briskly walking back to his car.

I’m gonna make sure you, William Jacob Byers, know that I meant every single word.

About half an hour later, Mike walked into the convenience mart of a gas station. His hangover headache was beginning to form, and his intermittent yawning had become more and more frequent, so he figured some coffee would solve both of those problems. He stopped at the entrance, looking down at the stack of newspapers to his right. Mike recalled himself making a mental note back at the frat party to check his horoscope, so he leaned down to pick one up, searching for Aries when he found the page.

December 15th, 1990: Do expect some appreciation for the efforts you've put into recent days, dear Aries. However, do not get your hopes too high, because your actions may not lean towards gratification if you expect too much.

Well, Chicago Sun Times, it’s a little late for that, Mike thought, tossing the paper back onto the pile and walking to the refrigerator to grab a bottle of water, and then to the coffee station. He filled a cup and dumped about seven packets worth of sugar into it before capping it off and heading to the register.

The clerk behind the counter, an older man, looked like he’d been having the best goddamn morning of his life. He beamed from ear to ear, and Mike could feel the positivity radiating off of this man from a mile away. When he got closer, he noticed a singular studded earring on his right earlobe.

“Hi, how’s it going?” The man smiled at Mike, crows feet forming in the outer corners of his eyes. Mike tried to mirror the expression, but failed miserably.

“It’s going,” he sighed, setting the water and coffee down on the counter and watching the clerk type in the prices on the register.

“Looks like it. You look rough, kid,” the man sympathized, pulling the money Mike slid onto the counter towards him and counting the bills. Mike shifted from foot to foot, anxiously waiting for the cashier to hand him his change so he could get out of there.

“Wanna talk about it?” he quirked an eyebrow, and Mike stopped his fidgeting. He looked up at the clerk, took a deep breath, and–

“Yeah. God, you don’t know the half of it. So I’m gay, right? And, like, that’s cool. And I’m in love with this friend of mine who I’ve known since kindergarten. He’s… he was my best friend. For years. And we went through this major thing that nearly killed us, but somehow it didn’t, and that was great, because then I was able to tell him how I felt. Right? Wrong. So, like, he moved to fucking Chicago without any kind of warning, or maybe, I don’t know, a Hey Mike, you hurt me because you said or did A, B, and C, and this is why I’m leaving. Something that could represent ‘the end’ to me. Because I’m not that great at picking up on when to quit beating a dead whore– horse. Horse. Jesus. I’m not beating any whores, I promise. But anyway, I went to U of Indy, and that was fan-fucking-tastic, because I was finally okay with who I am. I’m pretty good at the gay thing, and other guys seemed to really dick– uh, dig that. And by that, I mean, well… you can put two and two together, right? Right. Okay. So, even when I was with all these guys, I always thought about Will. All the time. He’s a part of me, you know? I couldn’t imagine life without him. So when I called him up on his birthday in March, which was about seven months into the not-talking-to-each-other thing, which I never signed up for in the first place, he basically told me to fuck off and never speak to him again. And then I realized I had to live without him, so I kind of spiraled, and now I can’t fucking sleep without drinking, and I can’t function without some form of physical touch from another man, but I’m never fucking fulfilled because it’s not Will who’s doing the physical touch, and I fucking love him, and I need him more than he needs me, and now I’m fucking driving to Chicago to find him and… Oh my god, I literally just poured my heart out to a stranger. I’m still kind of loopy. I’m so sorry.”

“That you did. I’m happy to listen, though,” the cashier merely chuckled, waving his hand in friendly dismissal. “You’ve really been put through the wringer, kiddo.”

“Well… thank you,” Mike softly smiled as he took his change from the counter, and shoved it into his pocket before turning around in preparation to leave.

“Best of luck in your travels! Go get your man!” the clerk called after him, and Mike laughed as the glass door slowly fell shut behind him.

Pulling onto the campus of the American Academy of Art was not something Mike had expected to be on his Sunday agenda, but here he was, pulling into a visitor parking spot next to the Admissions office building. He got out of his car, slamming the door, and smoothing his jeans over his thighs, feeling slightly self conscious about how they’d been crumpled up in a ball in his back seat after his most recent midnight excursion with Wyatt Bowman. Although, if he were being honest, anything was better than those denim cutoffs. Especially considering the mission he was currently on. Speaking of.

At first glance, this was not a traditional campus. There was not a single quad to be seen. There were no outdated buildings or directories, let alone any form of indication of a college campus, aside from the little rectangular flags with the school’s logo that hung from every other lamppost lining the sidewalks. All of the academic buildings were dispersed amidst other buildings belonging to different businesses and companies within a specific limit of blocks, which would make it much more difficult for Mike to figure out where the hell Will could even be within this organized chaos. Mike figured it would make the most sense to head into the Admissions office building first, so he could at least get a map.

The interior of the building was bright, with students’ art framed along the walls. He walked over to the nearest painting in the room, pausing to admire the work. There was a Monet-inspired landscape closest to the door, and a cubist portrayal of a still life stationed beside it. Mike could see why Will chose this school. They cultivated the talents of their students and turned them into true artists. Nothing could have prepared Mike for the next piece that caught his eye.

It was him. It was Mike; large in scale, vibrant, and full of life. Mike held his breath and stared back at the incredibly detailed, realistic portrait. He knew he didn’t need to look at the label that was tacked to the bottom of the painting to know whose work it was, but he couldn’t help himself. His eyes dragged downward and nearly passed away when he read the title: William Byers (b. 1971), “The Heart” (1989). Oil on Canvas. Mike’s chest swelled with pride, but quickly deflated at the looming, deafening voice in his head that routinely reminded him of what he’d lost. But that’s where everything stopped making sense.

The label stated that Will had painted “The Heart” in 1989, the same year that Will left Mike without turning back. He’d begun attending the American Academy of Art in September of that same year, leaving only three and a half or so months of the semester to complete the painting. So why would Will, after he completely erased Mike out of his life, still refer to Mike as the heart? And which heart was Will referring to? His own, or the one he’d shattered? Mike hadn’t realized he’d zoned out, so when a middle aged lady appeared next to him, he nearly leapt out of his skin. Her outfit, a floor length dress paired with a shawl, made her look quite ominous out of the corner of his eye.

“This is one of my favorites,” the woman stated.

“Yeah… mine, too,” Mike hummed, unmoving. 

“Have we met?” she began, but didn’t give him a chance to reply. “Perhaps you’re one of my lecture students, I can never quite put a name to a face. But I must say, you look quite familiar,” she told him, turning back to the painting with her arms crossed over her chest, deep in thought.

“Probably because I’m the guy in the painting, heh.”

“Oh gosh, silly me!” the woman exclaimed, flushing red as she put a palm to her forehead. “I didn’t even make the connection! So I assume you’re close with the artist, then?”

“Yeah, I know…” Mike began, then cut himself off with a grimace. “Knew him.”

“How nice!” Luckily, she didn’t pick up on Mike’s vacant expression. Instead, she continued on, “If you’d like, I can connect you with some students if you’re interested in touring the school.”

“Uh, no thank you, ma’am, that’s alright. I was just wondering if I could have a map if there’s one available?” he asked, and she nodded, turning on her heel to open a drawer of the front desk.

“Of course! And no need to call me ma’am, Miriam works just fine.”

“Well, thank you very much, Miriam,” he smiled at her as she handed him two pieces of color-coded, glossy paper; a campus map, and a map of Chicago.

“You’re very welcome, Mike. And when you see him, tell Will that I ordered those brushes he needed.” He didn’t recall ever telling her his name, or mentioning Will in their short conversation, but Mike became hyper aware of the fact that Miriam likely knew something he didn’t. Will had evidently told her about him. Apparently it wasn’t too slanderous, though, so he felt cautiously optimistic.

“Um… I… okay,” he rushed out, backing out the door as politely as he possibly could. “Thanks! Bye!” As soon as he was out of the Admissions office building, he ran down the street. He was so close to finding Will. Now, all he had to do was find the dorms.

Mike looked down at the map in his hands, then up, trying to find the building number, then back down again to confirm if he was even on the right street. The map said the boys’ dorms should be there, but all he could see was a brick wall in front of him. He was just about to rip all his hair out before he felt a tap on his shoulder.

He turned to see two girls looking up at him, concern etched on their faces. One of the girls wore a ski hat over her blonde hair, paired with a pink windbreaker, while the other girl donned a sherpa denim jacket and a beanie that still allowed her to show off her impressively long box braids that cascaded down to her hips.

“Hey man, are you okay?” Sherpa Girl asked. His gaze traveled down to notice their intertwined hands and he blinked, looking back at the two girls and nodding. At least he was amongst friends. He gripped onto the map in his hands for dear life, hoping they’d just leave him be so he could be disorientated in peace.

“Yeah, fine. I’m fine,” he shook his head, forcing out a smile. “Thank you though.”

That didn’t seem to cut it for Sherpa Girl, because she shared a knowing look with Windbreaker Girl. “Do you think he looks fine, babe?” she looked up at Mike with narrowed eyes. “I don’t think he looks fine.”

“No,” Windbreaker replied to her girlfriend, “He most definitely does not. Also, he shook his head ‘no’ while saying he was fine, so… busted.”

“Okay, what of it?” Mike waved his hands around in the air in frustration, pacing in a small circle before returning to face the two girls. “I’m just walking around this… very complicated campus.”

Windbreaker let out a giggle at that, leaning into Sherpa’s shoulder to muffle her laughter, which melted Mike’s heart a little bit.

“You’re obviously lost, dude,” Sherpa pressed. “At least tell us what you’re looking for, maybe we can help you.”

Mike let out an exhale of defeat, awkwardly shoving his hands in his sweatshirt pockets. “Any chance you know of a guy named Will Byers?”

Sherpa’s worryful expression shifted as she exclaimed, “Oh yeah, Will? He’s the cleric in our D&D club!” Mike’s brain short-circuited at the weight that sentence held.

“…He still plays D&D?”

That was when Windbreaker Girl’s eyes widened in recognition. “Wait… are you Mike?” Mike felt like he was being charged with a crime, but he nodded anyway. “Thee Mike? As in Mike Wheeler?” she asked again, and he couldn’t refrain from feeling a bit embarrassed by the implication that her vocal inflections gave off.

“Unfortunately,” he muttered, but was completely caught off guard when Sherpa did a little jump in place, her face splitting into a wide grin. Wait a minute. They didn’t despise him? He was so confused.

“No. No, this is great!” Sherpa elaborated, letting go of Windbreaker’s hand in order to reach into her purse. Huh? “I’ll give you his address.” Oh.

“He lives off campus with our friend Kate, but she’s usually at work all day on Sundays,” Windbreaker explained while Sherpa found a fancy, expensive-looking art pen and scribbled the address onto a grocery receipt. She handed it to Mike, who read it, then had to read it one more time to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. 7 Maple Street, Chicago, IL.

He gulped loudly, peeling his eyes away from the piece of receipt paper. He nodded in thanks, as no words seemed to come out of his mouth when he attempted to speak.

“My name’s Ivy, by the way, and this is my girl Hannah,” Sherpa– Ivy– said, wrapping an arm around Windbreaker– Hannah’s shoulders, pulling her into her side as they walked past and away from him. “Tell Will we said ‘you’re welcome’!” he heard her call back to him. He wouldn’t even try to decode what the fuck that meant.

Mike eventually found his car after wandering around aimlessly for a few more minutes than he’d have liked to admit, and landed in the driver’s seat with a thud. He pulled the map of Chicago out of his pocket and dug in his middle console for a pen, locating Maple Street in seconds. It was about a fifteen minute drive away. Okay. He could do this.

As he drove, Mike thought about what to say. How could he even begin to explain why he was there, on Will’s doorstep? How could he justify his batshit insane motive? I got drunk for a year and moaned out your name while hooking up with a guy named Carter? I was driving under the influence and decided to come to Chicago instead of going home? I almost killed myself on multiple occasions on the way here, but made it out alive just to tell you that I love you? Mike groaned. He didn’t want to be a stuttering mess, so he figured he’d at least try to plan out his… speech. But he had never really been much of a planner in respect to his social life. Give him a few monsters, and he’d be golden. But his crumbling social life was far from an apocalypse, and Will was no monster. He’d just have to wing it.

Will’s house was pretty. It was a small Cape Cod style, yellow with blue shutters. It had a small plot of grass in front, with a few stairs leading up to the doorway. The doorway that Mike stood in, lifting his knuckles to the door.

Mike knocked.

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#byler #byler fanfic #byler fic #byler tumblr #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things 4 #stranger things 5 #will byers #mike wheeler #will x mike #mike wheeler x oc #thisismetrying1 #thisismetrying2 #i cannot believe this is done it took me an eternity #this is my first time in months meeting a deadline on time and it's not for school rip

[fleshing-out-fodlan]

Crimson Flower vs. Azure Moon Ingrid

I went into this super excited to see how Ingrid’s relationship with her father would change based on the route because surely that would be a big deal, right? Well apparently not, she seems to just completely forget about him on both routes so I was a bit disappointed by that, I guess I just made up all the drama CF Ingrid has with her dad. 

Thesis: Ingrid’s character is one that changes significantly based on the route, with CF Ingrid being much more emotionally closed off and sympathetic towards her opponents while AM Ingrid places a much higher emphasis on the value of loyalty and tradition.

Chapter 12

CF

AM

CF Ingrid shows a lot more hesitance than AM Ingrid, which makes sense when you consider their positions. CF Ingrid essentially abandoned everything she knew (especially if she’s the only BL you recruited) whereas AM Ingrid still has her family, her friends, and her homeland. CF Ingrid would be in a scarier position and regardless of her feelings it’s only realistic for her to have doubts. Something I do find important with CF Ingrid though is her saying she needs her father to see ‘reason’ when talking about explaining her side to him. A common argument in this fandom is X character only joined Y route because of Byleth. While there are certainly characters whose presence on certain routes can be difficult to explain I don’t think CF Ingrid is one of them and I think her choice of the word ‘reason’ here shows how she was not purely influenced by her emotions and bonds to other people but that she thought long and hard before making her decision to the point where she feels she has a chance, regardless of how slim, of making her father understand. AM Ingrid on the other hand is very confident in her decision and she paints her opposing side in a very negative light, contrasting CF Ingrid’s more sympathetic view.

Chapter 13

CF

AM

CF Ingrid seems to be trying to approach the war from a practical stand point, attempting to ignore her emotions. It’s not doubt what she’s going through is extremely difficult, yet when Byleth goes to talk to her she focuses on giving a report about what happened as opposed to trying to seek some sort of solace from Byleth. She doesn’t open up about how she’s feeling until Byleth directly prompts her too and even then, she underplays the turmoil I’m sure she’s going through and immediately shifts the conversation. By contrast, AM Ingrid seems to be expressing her emotions more openly as we can see from her discussing the betrayals of the western nobles. I wonder if this is a trend that will continue or if this difference is a one off thing. We also see AM Ingrid emphasizing the importance of loyalty, a value we know was very important to pre-timeskip Ingrid. The phrase ‘after all the royal family has done for them’ indicates that Ingrid believes those nobles are indebted to the royal family. This language is also particularly interesting due to the fact that it can be applied to literally any protest. What if there hadn’t been a war and commoners had instead started protesting a cause important to them, would AM Ingrid view that as a betrayal too? There’s no definitive answer (at least not yet) but it’s something to think about.

Chapter 14

CF

AM

We see the same thing here as we saw last chapter, CF Ingrid being more stoic and AM Ingrid emphasizing blind obedience. CF Ingrid obviously admires Judith and regrets how things played out. Despite this, CF Ingrid simply states that they ‘can’t change the past’ when Byleth acknowledges her feelings. This is a particularly interesting sentiment coming from Ingrid considering how much pre-timeskip Ingrid dwells on the past (particularly Glenn). Of course, Judith was not as important to her as Glenn so these events can’t be treated as equals, but CF Ingrid still demonstrates a strong resolve to move forwards despite her hardships. AM Ingrid on the other hand comments on being filled with ‘hatred’ and ‘anger.’ Overall, AM Ingrid holds more resentment towards her enemies, which makes sense considering she’d have minimal exposure to the empire outside of propaganda while CF Ingrid knows the kingdom and it’s people intimately. However, important to note is that Ingrid is filled not just with anger and hatred but ‘his anger’ and ‘his hatred’ (his referring to Dimitri). Pre-timeskip Ingrid struggled with being her own person and I think her idolization of Glenn is the best example of this. Ingrid being filled with the same feelings as Dimitri is an extension of this flaw. Furthermore, she even goes so far as to say it’s ‘difficult [for her] to oppose his wishes’ showing how Ingrid has fallen into the trap of blind obedience. CF Ingrid doesn’t express difficulty thinking for herself, in fact I imagine she’d have a more sympathetic view towards the kingdom than would be common place among the imperial army. However, AM Ingrid’s hatred for the empire to me comes across a lot more like someone who was told what to think as opposed to someone who is intimately familiar with all the strengths and weaknesses of the empire.

Chapter 15

CF

AM

Not to sound like a broken record but we again see CF Ingrid focusing on practicality instead of her emotions. I’m not going to dwell on that fact since I’ve talked about it a lot already but I just wanted to mention it. Another recurring theme with CF Ingrid is her looking towards the future, although I feel it is much more obvious here than last chapter. She is not taking time to celebrate their victory, instead she is thinking of what can go wrong and giving Byleth advice on how to increase their odds of victory. Personally, I quite enjoy AM Ingrid’s dialogue here and think it’s by far the best we’ve seen so far. Ingrid’s struggles with her territory is one of the more interesting aspects of her character to me so I love seeing it mentioned. She also mentions struggles with feeling helplessness which I believe is a large struggle for Ingrid. As a child, she lost Glenn then watched as all three of her childhood friends turned into disasters, all while being completely unable to do anything. Because of this, academy Ingrid was quite controlling and often tried to fix everyone’s problems. Seeing these aspects of her character touched on in her explore dialogue is great, even if it’s just a brief conversation.

Chapter 16

CF

AM

Here, we see CF Ingrid getting more in touch with her grief which she’s been avoiding. The war has finally taken her to a point where she has to fight against her loved ones and can no longer push her feelings to the back. This therefore also forces her to confront the complexities of her relationship with Glenn. CF Ingrid would have a very complicated relationship with Glenn that I really don’t have time to fully dive into here but it’s clear that CF Ingrid still values the relationship she had with Glenn and regrets ‘betraying’ him. I also think the use of the word betray in particular here is interesting because it implies she still feels some sort of obligation to him. Despite CF Ingrid having cut her own path, she still feels guilty for letting down all those that relied on here and this guilt can explain why she’s been especially reserved and practical attitude on this route as she tried to compensate for her guilt by throwing herself into helping the cause. In contrast, AM Ingrid’s dialogue in this chapter is honestly very basic and I don’t have much to say. The one thing that stood out to me was her saying there will be another ‘grand battle.’ I love looking at specific words used and thinking why that word was chosen above any other, but sometimes I worry this analysis technique can get a little nitpicky because while, yes, some words are chosen for very specific meanings, there are also times when not much thought was put into the word choice. This is one of those instances where I worry I’m being a bit nitpicky but regardless I’m still going to discuss what thoughts this provoked. Describing something as grand is obviously a compliment and I believe this word choice shows AM Ingrid glorifying the war in a way. AM Ingrid in general is filled with a lot more anger and she also still strongly believes the knightly ideals. I do think these two factors, when combined, can easily lead to an over glorification of war, so while CF Ingrid seems regretful in this chapter AM Ingrid seems more excited.

Chapter 17

CF

AM

I don’t think there’s much of note for CF Ingrid here, which is pretty disappointing considering it’s her last explore dialogue. The only think I really noticed is her taking solace in Byleth’s presence, something she does in a few other supports as well. However, this is the first time CF Ingrid mentions Edelgard. I’ve seen a decent amount of Edelgard/Ingrid stuff and I never understood it because they have no supports, but I wonder if this line contributed to that ship. She calls Edelgard one of few ‘allies [she] can rely on.’ She obviously has a fairly high bar considering that there’s not many people that meet it, but Edelgard is one of them. I wish they had supports or just some sort of interaction in general, I think it would make this line more impactful if we could see actual interactions between them but the way it exists now in the game honestly feels a bit shallow to me, even as someone who is interested in that relationship. AM Ingrid here displays a sense of responsibility towards Rodrigue after he dies, wanting to ensure that someone so important to her is able to get the best treatment. Furthermore, Ingrid’s desire to give him a ‘proper funeral’ shows an appreciation for traditional Faerghan customs. This fits in with AM Ingrid’s admiration for knighthood, a traditional Faerghan institution, and shows how her character overall views traditions as an important thing

AM Extra Chapters

Here Ingrid is simply giving us an update on the situation, doesn’t say that much about her character and it’s a role she played in CF too so what it does say I don’t think is relevant to this discussion.

Again I don’t have much to say and I can’t tell if I’m getting lazy or if the ending explore dialogues just aren’t as good. We do see here that AM Ingrid is obviously loyal to Rhea. The church is also a traditional institution similarly to knighthood so I do think this emphasizes AM Ingrid’s loyalty to tradition.

This is a pretty generic final dialogue and honestly quite similar to CF Ingrid’s final dialogue. She is grateful to Byleth and ready to fight for the cause.

My verdict: I feel like my bias was way more obvious in this analysis than the previous one but yeah, I prefer CF Ingrid. Not only do I prefer CF Ingrid, but it’s actually the only version of her I like. In fact, I used to hate Ingrid as a character for this very reason. My first playthrough was CF and I went in blind so I recruited very few people. This meant that the first time I played with Ingrid was AM and it resulted in me hating her for a long time before I started considering what CF Ingrid would be like. I tried to be fair and not overly harsh on AM Ingrid and I do want to take time to acknowledge some aspects of her characterization some people may like before totally trashing on her. She remains dedicated to her original dream and even achieves it in a few endings, is loyal to her family friends, and more in tune with her emotions. That being said, if you’re very attached to AM Ingrid maybe don’t read ahead. I personally don’t view Ingrid attaining knighthood as a positive for her character. Sure, it was a childhood dream, but 99% of childhood dreams are never attained and that’s no in and of itself a tragic thing, especially if the childhood dream is something harmful. While knighthood in and of itself may not be inherently harmful, the way AM Ingrid engages with it is. She believes in blind obedience and that belief makes her very susceptible to manipulation. She even goes so far as to say she wouldn’t oppose Dimitri, I can’t imagine any world where just following someone’s every command is a good thing. While CF Ingrid never goes directly against Edelgard’s command, she also never acts like Edelgard’s word is God and she even tries to persuade her family to her side, something she wants as an individual not because her king/emperor told her to. Through this process, I’ve realized a lot of what I like about CF Ingrid is actually headcanons I’ve made and I wonder now if I should make a post talking about my CF Ingrid and why she’s so great. A point I’ll count against CF Ingrid is how emotionally closed off she is. From a character writing perspective I do enjoy this approach, however she never really works on it (one of the pitfalls of her not having and CF specific supports to address her CF specific problems) which means in terms of judging her ability to live a fulfilling life this is a negative. And, while this post is supposed to be about their explore dialogue, I do just briefly want to mention AM vs. CF Ingrid endings because it is a large reason I prefer CF Ingrid. While AM Ingrid is more likely to become a knight, CF Ingrid is more likely to find solutions to her lands sufferings that surprise surprise didn’t require her selling herself to a random rich man which I love for her. So overall, I do find CF Ingrid to be significantly better than AM Ingrid.

#fe3h #fe3h ingrid #ingrid galatea #crimson flower #azure moon #fe3h analysis #not sure how well this one turned out #I felt like the explore dialogues weren't as interesting as Marianne's #And therefore the analysis was a bit lackluster #Honestly the dialogue didn't really touch on the aspects of CF Ingrid I find most interesting #Made it a bit difficult to write a compelling analysis but I did the best I could with what I had so hopefully it's at least #An entertaining read #crimson flower vs. azure moon

[sister-hawk]

mega spoilers for The Locked Tomb

ok here's what i just realized. we had no idea Harrow was seeing the body until the second book, because the first book is from Gideon's perspective and Harrow never told her about it. she told her about seeing the body in the tomb, but she neglected to mention that she's been seeing it walk around ever since. Gideon and Harrow have obviously had a very difficult relationship, which gets way way worse after Harrow opens the tomb. it gets so bad that Gideon seems to think her only course of action is to run away when no one is looking and join the Cohort. as far as Gideon is concerned, there's no salvaging that relationship, Harrow is just too horrible and evil and vile.

and then the events of Caanan House happen, and through the course of it all (especially after the pool scene) Gideon starts to see Harrow in a much more human light. she's not just the absolute monster Gideon has convinced herself that she must be, after years of trauma and abuse on the Ninth House (which she assumes was all Harrow's doing). Gideon sees her for who she really is, an equally traumatized teenager who has had an unimaginable weight placed upon her by her parents' actions (TWICE!). and i think she begins to hope. after all, these two were the only children growing up on shitty old castle/space station, carved into a dark and cold and desolate rock on the far reaches of the solar system, surrounded by a bunch of elderly cultists. they share a bond whether they like it or not. she sees that Harrow is more than she wrote her off as and she starts to think "maybe there's something between us after all." now i wouldn't go so far as to say she immediately wanted anything romantic, i don't know if either of them even understands romance. when have they ever had the opportunity to learn? but she clearly begins to think of Harrow as someone she can trust? kind of, that she must protect, maybe even love??? whatever the fuck that means for these two (though she tries so hard to convince herself that she isn't feeling this because she doesn't know how to deal with it).

then the fight with Cytherea happens, and after a desperate and hopeless attempt, Gideon makes the ultimate sacrifice. she chooses to stop fighting for her life, and instead to die, to ensure that Harrow would live. even though she wouldn't like to put it this way, this is Gideon's ultimate expression of love for Harrow. she chooses not only to die, but to be consumed. to be obliterated, to be erased from this life and the next, just so that Harrow can go on. she gave literally everything for this girl.

and then, when her spirit wakes up inside of Harrow, and she sees (unclearly) what Harrow sees, what is she looking at? what does she see waltzing around in Harrow's mind? the fucking body from the tomb. the body Harrow thought was so beautiful, that on the day Gideon nearly killed her and drove her to suicide, she saw and immediately decided to live for, on the extremely slim chance that it could ever wake up. she sees the body that saved Harrow from her previous cruelty (they were only children). and she knows, it's been with her this whole time. all this time and Harrow never said a word. even in the salt water bath, where all the truth was supposed to finally come out, this little detail never crossed Harrow's lips.

Gideon must have been utterly heart broken. This would be like if you suddenly found out that your girlfriend of the better part of a decade had secretly been seeing someone else this whole time. it must have crushed what was left of her soul. and to top it all off, Harrow pulls this insane plan to make herself forget Gideon. Gideon sees what she does, but of course she doesn't see why, because Harrow would never tell it aloud, especially not to someone like Ianthe. and all she can assume is, now that Harrow has what she needs (the Lyctorhood for which she was so desperate), she wants to throw Gideon away so that she'll never be beholden to another person. she'd never have to be grateful to Gideon, and she'll have the imagined girlfriend in her head, and Gideon will not even be left as a memory.

Holy shit the devastation this (apparent) betrayal causes cannot even be put into words. No wonder Kiriona is so fucking mean.

#the locked tomb #gideon the ninth spoilers #harrow the ninth spoilers #gideon nav #harrowhark nonagesimus #griddlehark

[pelleas-at-castle-nox]

Witch's Brew/Baker's Delight

Udon was a ferret who ran a rather successful Bakery on the campus of a magical institution, a rather upstanding member of his community, even if he did happen to moonlight as a witch with the local coven. It was after hours, his store front converted into a temporary venue as the tables were all decorated with fancy table clothes to host a little tea party. Guests weren't scheduled to arrive for another few hours, but being the perfectionist he was, all the work had been finished already, and he didn't have much else to do but sit there and scroll his phone hoping someone would show up early.

Soft clinking of metal heralded the arrival of a feline knight, a resplendent suit of silver inlaid mythril armor accenting a slim fighter's figure. Her paws, both hand and feet, were uncovered, though a discerning eye would see that the magical protection offered by the armor extended even to those extremities, even her cute long tail that marked her not as a pure cat, but a feline vulpine hybrid. Atop it all was a hat, a large ostentatious hat more logically associated with a wizard than a knight, but which also seemed inlaid with magical protection.

She was also overbearingly nervous, paw continuously trying to obviously reach for a sword which seemed to be conspicuously missing from her ensemble. She sat down at the opposite end of the table armor clattering audibly. If she had hoped to be stealthy, she had failed miserably.

The red and pink ferret was firmly juxtaposed off the small knight, possessing a welcoming and inviting chubby figure, complete with a heart printed yellow apron. He didn't know exactly why this jittery knight had sat down at his table, but he had nothing better to do so he quietly slid a plate of cookies closer. "Hey, you want some tea? Or a biscuit or something?" Despite his best efforts, some concern did bleed through his voice.

The comforting tones of the ferret seemed completely lost on the cat who looked like she'd have jumped out of her skin from the jolt she gave, and probably would have if not for her armor. "T-Tis I! Um, I mean, I'm Conrad, agent to His Imperial Majesty Glenn, responsible for the deaths of between 230 and 400 people in the 17th age of the Demesne." Her feline eyes vibrated with intensity as she looked down at the plate of cookies, paw twitching as she resisted the urge to take one. "Excuse me, sir. Are you by any chance... a witch?"

Udon had started tuning the knight out when it became apparent that she wasn't really going to be a good conversational partner, mentally going over his checklist one more time as he nodded along. "A witch? Yeah yeah..." He was technically a part time witch, but he was licensed and all, so he hardly saw how it mattered. Reaching over and grabbing a lovely tea pot, an equally lovely tea cup was filled. He took a moment to let it cool before taking a sip, frowning at the surprisingly bitter taste. No comment was made on the way his body seemed to visibly swell from just one taste. He reached over to a small ceramic jar and removed the lid, sighing as he saw its empty nature. "This shit has no sugar, and Sparky ate all the sugar cubes, is that cool with you?"

Conrad recoiled in fear and disgust, for this is truly...

Steeling her composure as best she could, the anxious knight nodded as another teacup began to be filled. "Y-yes, that will be fine.  As a Knight, if I take tea at all, it is without sugar…" Relaxing just a bit as she realized she'd not alerted the witch into defensive action, she chose to take a subtle approach and coax the damning information out of her. She knew she'd have absolutely no choice to partake of this devil's fair, really there was simply no way to avoid eating some of these cursed food items, none at all if she were to complete her mission. "Ahem... Now, pardon me for asking, but do you regularly hold council with imps and other such demons, perhaps meeting for tea and to practice illegal dark magic?"

Something within the kind and patient ferret snapped at the question, and in that moment his patience was lost. "Look dude, do you want a biscuit or not?" He'd put in all this effort to lay out a fine spread for anybody looking to unwind after a hard day, and here this cat was harshing the vibe so spectacularly!

Conrad's eyes darken in fear, and her ears pin back in shame.  The Emperor's most trusted agent has found a witch for whom she is no match. He evades even her most cunning inquiries with ease, and the brazen air with which she admits her heresy shows she fears neither man nor God. She cannot win, and defeated, she relents. "A... biscuit would be lovely, thank you."

A smile finally crossed the Ferret's face once again as he picked up a cookie and threw it across the table, effortlessly landing it right on the knight's waiting tongue. "Bitchin~" Horrified by the sudden display of perceived violence, her first instinct was to remove the cookie from her mouth, and yet she found such instincts overridden as her jaws slowly worked to mash up the buttery delight, delicious cream spilling out from between two layers of baked goodness. The flavor was more than she could handle, and like a starving beast, she let instincts truly take over, her paws shoveling the full plate of biscuits into her muzzle, washed down with the tea when she began to struggle to get it down.

Udon's brow raised, but he made no moves to stop the hungry knight, and even poured her an extra cup of tea to follow the first as he watched her face and hands begin to soften rapidly. "You sure you don't wanna take that pretty armor off? Are you on duty? Probably shouldn't be partaking of a witch's brew on duty."

The casual taunt forced an extravagant moan from the cat, who shook her head languidly. "N-never fear good sir, this armor's designed to withstand any manner of barrages, from within or without. It would take a truly catastrophic occurrence to wrench it from my b-uuuurrrrff... BAH!" Her protests were interrupted by a rumbling belch, and all at once the breastplate of her full mail burst off, a cascading gut bouncing free. A horrified meow reverberated, and Udon reached one thick paw up into the air, catching the sailing breastplate before it could fly off into the distance and wreck even a piece of his carefully planned Decor. He smiled brightly as he watched his handiwork, coming around behind the cat and beginning to fiddle with the straps on the rest of her armor. "I was just lamenting the lack of a center piece, I think you'll do nicely~" The tea pot was hefted up off the table, and after an experimental testing of the heat, which was indeed cool enough to drink from, the spout of the pot was placed in the knight's lips, tipped back, and poured freely into the dazed knight, who only grew larger.

Today's entry was based off the legendary OPEN RP between tumblr users slappycat and kirkegarde, neither of whom I will be tagging but I will put a link to said legendary text post because I think it's really funny and everybody should see it at least once.

#feedist kinktober #weight gain #magic weight gain #Ferret #catfox #clothes bursting #fat furry #conrad #udon

[myszumizu]

: let’s go, noctyx headcanons! hope y’all are doing good and thank you for the support on my last post <33

: gn!reader, talks of violence, killing and kidnapping mentioned, yandere

YANDERE NOCTYX

SONNY

. he can be quite possessive over you

. SUPER protective as well and would keep tabs on you at all times

. may sometimes let you go out with your friends or family but would need you to update him about your whereabouts at all times or he’ll track you down himself

. not that’ll it be hard for him as he makes you wear a necklace with a tracker for a pendant

. will definitely spoil you rotten

. sonny would allow you to walk around his house freely but if you think you can escape, think again

. his house has many hidden cameras which follows your every movement and alerts him if you do anything suspicious

. what can i say, technology in the future is super advanced

. he uses a mix of emotional and physical punishments

. will manipulate and gaslight you when you do something wrong

. only hits you if make him snap or attempt to escape, a crime he deems unforgivable

. however, sonny will never put your life at risk because you are the most precious thing in his life

. gets jealous relatively easily but will not do anything that can ruin his reputation

UKI

. have you seen this man become yandere for fulgur?

. you do not want him to be obsessed with you

. he’ll kill someone without hesitation with or without his abilities

. i feel like he’ll be quite controlling and may even use his psychic abilities to maybe brainwash / hypnotise you into loving him

. his punishments are HARSH and when i say that, i mean it

. when he punishes you, you will, without a doubt, end up with multiple bruises, cuts and a stern warning

. don’t worry though, he will make you feel better with a night of passion where you’ll find yourself covered in many marks

. you aren’t allowed to talk to anyone besides him and you are not to have any outside relationships

. heck, you cant even go out without him attached to your hip

. if you ever you act out, uki will have no problem restraining you

. if uki’s feeling slightly more sadistic, he might even stop your food and water supply until you have no choice but to beg for him to feed you

. he likes seeing you desperate

. your chances of escaping him is as slim as the chances of you getting vox and shoto to be seiso when they stream together

. yeah, not gonna happen

. try to escape him and i will guarantee you it’ll end up in a rough, rough night, even more rough than normal nights

. you will also be chained to his bedside for a whole month or even longer if he isn’t willing to forgive you

. anyways, i wish you all the best

FULGUR

. might probably be the best yandere to have out of the five

. he isn’t super controlling and is instead, very lenient

. he will not hit you, no matter the situation

. even his punishments aren’t so cruel

. fulgur is more of the obsessive type and is silently possessive so when he brings you out on “dates”, he’ll have to holding your waist or your hands

. will never tie you up or chain you because he doesn’t see the need to

. i mean, you’re such a good darling for him so what’s the point? chaining you up will only make you lose your love for him

. he has a few cameras here and there just for security reasons

. if fulgur ever catches you attempting to escape, he won’t flip out or hit you or anything like that

. instead, you will see something even more terrifying

. his eyes will lose their glow and you will be met with his face of disappointment

. he’ll begin to manipulate your emotions until you feel extremely guilty of your actions

. after that, he’ll pull you into his arms and rock you like you’re a baby that needs protection from the world

. again, fulgur ovid will never hit you but he will find other ways to get into your little head and ensure that you never leave him

ALBAN

. possessive, obsessive and protective

. he is also very clingy and must always be by your side no matter what

. will claw the eyes of anyone that touches you that isn’t him

. i don’t think alban would ban interaction with your family and friends completely but he will be watching as you guys converse

. he doesn’t want to risk anyone taking you away

. he will give you a lot of shiny presents with hidden cameras inside so he can keep track of who you talk to

. definitely has a shrine dedicated to pictures of you and has a few of your belongings as well

. alban dislikes the idea to physically hurting you because he doesn’t want to taint his partner forever

. might give you warnings if you do something out of line

. he may not hurt you but will hurt the other people around you

. if it ever comes to the point of him actually killing someone, he’ll pin the blame on you

. he’ll say something like “the reason [person’s name] died is because you decided to let them touch you”

. alban can be very manipulative and contrary to popular beliefs, he can be very intelligent as well

. but he can be a bit careless

. there’ll be times where you would be able to escape him but you will never manage to make it far and he’ll eventually drag you back

. and you know what that means

. another person you care about gone from your life

. well, that’s too bad but then again, you don’t need anyone else in your life besides alban, your beloved cat boy

YUGO

. i don’t know why but i can envision him to be someone condescending and sadistic

. during the first few months of him kidnapping you, you’ll be chained in his basement or his own room

. this means no interactions with friends or family whatsoever

. he’ll ignore your cries or pleas to release you and may even gag you if he gets too annoyed

. he is the second most controlling, right after uki

. hates the idea of you interacting with anyone else besides him, even if it’s an animal because only he gets your attention

. if you are being bad, he will slap your face as a reminder and if you continue, that’ll result in even more pain

. as crazy as it sounds, yugo would record your screams from being beaten and use it in his music

. his audience wonder why the sound effects are so realistic

. you will always be the first one to hear his new work(s)

. he dedicates each performance to you and he will announce this at the start before he begins playing

. i don’t think he’ll go as far as killing those you love unless you complain about them or bring them up too much (he gets jealous)

. if you behave for weeks, he may reward you with your favourite snacks or if he is feeling generous, maybe a phone call with your chosen friend or family member

. has an obsession of leaving marks on you

#myszumizu posted 💦 #nijisanji en #nijisanji x reader #noctyx #nocticks #noctyx x reader #x reader #yandere #yandere x reader

[danidoesathing]

wait hello I just saw that ‘feelings about the cowboys’ post and am EXTREMELY INTRIGUED by the “Lonesome Dreams is a time loop” thing??? 👀

ok ok ok so like. the plot of the lonesome dreams MV always kinda bothered me cause like if it's Huron and Blaquefut's first encounter, just. huh? How does Huron have a picture of Blaquefut in his pocket? why does he have a picture of Blaquefut in his pocket? is he searching for Blaquefut, if so, why? did he take this journey in search of him, and if so what could Blaquefut possibly offer to make him take such a dangerous journey? it just. never made any sense to me.

the island is implied and often theorized to be the afterlife or some kinda limbo. And Blaquefut does die during the Time to Run music video, so the idea of Huron going out to save his brother isn't really that much of a stretch. But he knows Huron at that point so Lonesome Dreams couldn't take place afterwards, right?

but like. what if its not their first encounter?

Time and death have always been a bit fucky in LH lore and like. lets say Blaquefut dies right? and somehow, Huron figures out this island exists and even though its insanely risky and may not work, he's willing to try. Because he can't just abandon his brother and he's willing to risk life and limb for it. So he does, and he does make it to the island. And then things just get...weird. it already doesnt make sense already with the changing biomes and the seasons changing within too short of a time. But even memories start to blur, even if the feelings remain. And washing up on the shore with nothing but a picture of man and the strong urge to find that man, Huron's left with no choice but to follow his instincts. It does eventually lead him to find Blaquefut, whose got no clue who he is either and well. we see what happens next. They form a close bond and get off the island together, and set off to all their future adventures together. They grow as close as brother and form a loyalty to the other unlike any other.

At least until it loops back around to the Time to Run MV and Blaquefut dies again.

and like. lonesome dreams the song is also weird in the sense that like. its not actually about the events of the MV and more about Huron having a strange dream about a lonely world that makes no sense. Maybe, one he's been to before 👀.

seriously like look at these

and hey hey. you wanna know another fun aspect of it that ive completely pulled out of my ass? with this theory and the fact that Huron is the one perpetuating the loop, it keeps with the "doomed both by the narrative and their own actions" and "I love and care about you a lot and that will be the death of us" things. Because the whole thing in the album is like. Huron really wants to go home to Helena. and as time goes on, he becomes more and more desperate to actually get back to her.

but in this scenario, its a timeloop. one he's causing, because he just...can't let go of his friend. He wants to get back to her more than anything but how could he just abandon his brother? if there's even a slim chance of saving him, how could he not take it? so he goes after his friend, and brings him along to this journey to get back home, and then Blaquefut dies again and Huron is going to go save him again and he just. isn't going to get home because he can't let go. Maybe if he took a different path, maybe if he stopped trying to go home and accepted that the life with Helena is unobtainable to him, then maybe they can avoid that fight and maybe Blaquefut can get out it alive. But Huron can't let go of Helena either, so he'll keep trying to return and Blaquefut is loyal enough to follow him to the ends of the earth and it just. keeps going. He can't have the life with both that he desperately wants but he refuses to make the choice necessary to free them from this loop. and thus the cycle continues.

#sorry this is half incoherent its like 4am here and im rambling about cowboy lore #i am pulling this all out of my ass and have little to canon evidence to prove this #however. you can prove me wrong either #also the lyrical transition to 'i feel like i know this place' 'i feel like i know this place' and 'i dont really know this place' :) #long post #lord huron #lonesome dreams #i put it under the cut cause im getting rambly in the bitch #and i need to talk to others about this theory like agggggh. so its going in the main tag #look at my theories boy #dani speaks #asks #ask

[imagine-knb]

gom+kagami realizing that they're starting to fall for a celebrity?

These headcanons are all under the assumption that this is a celebrity they've never met. If you meant it as in they already knew the celebrity and are acquaintances/friends with them, feel free to send the ask again! Admin Neon

Kuroko

despite being rational about it — he knows there's absolutely no way he would ever get together with his celebrity crush — Kuroko can't help but indulge himself a bit with the fantasy of it all

he's always daydreaming about scenarios where he would meet them, thinking of what he would say, how he could impress them, and the dates they would go on

imagine his utter joy, quickly replaced by sheer panic, when he realizes his celebrity crush is doing a meet and greet at the local mall in the upcoming weekend

Kagami

will deny to anyone and everyone that he has a celebrity crush, but it's pretty obvious in the way he pays extra close attention whenever he sees them in media

he doesn't own any merch of theirs because he's too afraid of being obvious, but that doesn't stop him from looking at their merch store all the time

when he's gifted a shirt with their face on it for his birthday, he goes red in the face and says he'll never wear it — he wears it to sleep almost every night

Kise

being a small-time celebrity himself (because he thought of his modeling job as giving him a celebrity status) he absolutely thinks he has a chance as wooing his celebrity crush

will harass his modeling managers about getting him jobs that have him inching his way into the life of his celebrity crush, even if those jobs have nothing to do with modeling

the day he actually gets on set with them however, he's not as flirtatious or suave as he had imagined himself being; in fact, he's acting like bashful, starstruck teenage boy

Aomine

in contrast to his redheaded rival, Aomine owns a lot of merch of his celebrity crush; he's not ashamed to say that some of that merch is not exactly safe for work

though he knows they're not in the same line of work, Aomine will definitely harass his blonde celebrity friend to help him get an "in"

he's another one who thinks he'll be so suave and alluring when he finally does meet his celebrity crush, but he ends up making an embarrassment out of himself when all he can manage is a few unflattering grunts and nods

Midorima

he's extremely rational about it and knows for a fact there is a slim chance he will ever meet his celebrity crush — he knows there's an even slimmer chance they would actually like him back

consumes all of their media and learns as much about their personality as he can from their Wikipedia page and a few other sources; he's the ultimate secret fan

on more than one occasion, he has thought about sending his celebrity crush their lucky item in their fan-mail whenever they have a new, big project coming up

Murasakibara

he gets irrationally jealous whenever someone mentions that they share the same celebrity crush as him; he feels like he should be the only person to like them this much

he doesn't actually talk about his celebrity crush with anyone because he doesn't want people to "steal" his chance with them — if he ever gets one

he actually does own some merch that he likes to carry around in his backpack; he'll take it out when he's alone and stare at it for a while, content smile on his face

Akashi

whenever his celebrity crush has a panel or interview happening in his area, Akashi is one of the first people to buy tickets to view the event; always front row, never anything less

he keeps his eyes on theirs the entire time, hoping for the chance that their eyes would meet — he'll never admit it, but he's hoping for love at first sight

when his celebrity crush eventually recognizes him because he keeps coming to their stuff, he's calm on the outside, but completely up in his feelings on the inside

#kuroko #kagami #kise #aomine #midorima #murasakibara #akashi #gom

[thoselethalarts]

Who's the Best (and worst) Roommate?

1. Matt. Simply by virtue that he's... never around? He spends extremely long amounts of time away from his room (spending the nights with Marcus usually instead), which means when he was a 2nd year you'd get the whole room to yourself most days. The times he actually is in his home dorm he mostly keeps to himself and reads or listens to audio books. He does like to talk and make friendly conversation though, so if you initiate he'll perk right up from whatever he's doing to chat. The most bother you'll have from him is when him, Marcus, and Kaz get together for a group study session, but they're able to move if you need privacy.

2. Kaz. He's just a sweet boy! If a bit if a pushover sometimes. He likes to talk and get to know you better, but is understanding if you'd prefer to be alone. Any mess he makes he makes sure to keep to his side of the room, though he also gets antsy when the room is a mess he doesn't like to voice his concerns when it happens. If you're feeling under the weather he'll offer to get you something from Sam's to help you feel better. He spends a lot of time away from his room throughout the day and mostly just comes back to sleep late at night (though he tries to be quiet as possible when he comes back too late). Every week him, Marcus, and Matt will have group study sessions and alternate between each other hosting, but they can usually move to the lobby if you ask.

3. Stahli. Yet another sweet boy! He likes to talk about his day and your day, and might offer to make you some tea and a treat when he's making some for himself. Actually he might offer you food often, since he's always looking for a taste tester for his cooking experiments. He's a little bit of a neat freak though and might pester you to clean things up if you leave the room too unkempt for his taste. Also, he can't stand strong fragrances so he might complain if you want to burn a candle/incense with too strong a fragrance or if you use body spray/perfume.

4. Phobos. He's antisocial and doesn't like being bothered. Being his roommate is only nice if you don't want someone to talk to, cuz chances are he won't want to talk to you even if you try and initate conversation. It's possible to befriend him, but it will just take a bit of time. He stays up really late on his computer, so hopefully you can sleep through the clicking of his keyboard. He gets pissed off if you try to have company over, but can ignore them by playing on his computer with his headphones on.

5. Marcus. He keeps to himself for the most part, so you won't have to worry about him bothering you, however insomnia + night terrors will make sleeping in the same room as him a bit of a challenge. You might hear him wake up or make startled noises periodically through the night. Also his boyfriend Matt is usually hanging around the room with him and will often spend the night. Somehow he's even more nocturnal than Marcus is. Hopefully you'll get used to it. Other than that him, Matt, and Kaz will have group study sessions sometimes and he'll host it in his dorm room. He's understanding though if you want him to move somewhere else.

6. Nyx. Unfortunately staying with him would kind of suck unless you share a lot of characteristics with him. He spends a lot of time alone in his room when classes are out, so I hope you weren't hoping for privacy. Because of his low heat tolerance he requires special accommodations and keeps the room fairly cool, so hopefully you like cooler temperatures too. He often stays up late on his computer and does voice calls with his friends, and while he'll try and lower his voice he still isn't that good at monitoring his volume. There's also a slim chance of Spontaneous Eels knocking on your door at any given moment with no warning. No they won't go away either if you turn them away. He sleeps with a sound machine and a lava lamp cuz he can't stand the dark and quiet. Also he will absolutely get upset if you have too loud of company over, even if he doesn't say something. Hypocrite.

7. Vantablack. As if being around them for long periods of time wasn't unnerving or invasive enough, their side of the room is a godamn quarantine zone. They like to decorate their side of the room with bones and teeth strung up like string lights along their bed and there's a locked chest at the foot of their bed which you can only assume is full of human skulls. Weird sigils are painted on the walls around the window and by the doorway and they will NOT let you scrub them off, no matter how much they bother you. There's a weird smell of moss and lake water that permeates their side of the room at all times. You get the feeling they might have been rummaging through your things when you're not home but you have no proof. They're talkative and really want to get to know you better, but you get this weird feeling that they don't just want to get closer to you because they want to be friends...

#ツイステッドワンダーランド #twst #twisted wonderland #oc #original character #matthiaos #kazuo guerrero #marcus tomford #nyx nocturne #stahli heimer #phobos banner #vantablack #vantablack entity