#idk if it was ever mentioned that he was floating. that just feels right to me

[thermodynamic-comedian]

i do not know how lucid jonah's internal monologue was during the eyepocalypse but god i hope the eye kept purposefully showing him jonmartin. i hope he was up in the panopticon floating mid-air just crying his eyes out going "it should've been me. i should've been his manipulative codependent boyfriend"

#idk if it was ever mentioned that he was floating. that just feels right to me #possessed type of floating too. looking like he was hung but there's no rope #tma #the magnus archives #tma shitpost #tma spoilers #tma s5 #tma s5 spoilers #jonelias #jonmartin #jmart #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jonah magnus #the eye tma

[mikareo]

“ ࣭⸰ ★ HE'S JUST NOT THAT INTO YOU . . . ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ 呪術廻戦 ; gojo satoru x fem reader (1k)

⊹ ⠀⠀ valentine's day is approaching; and with a valentine comes love...or for worse...heartbreak.

contains; gojo satoru x fem reader, angst, mentions of fluff idk, there’s some swearing i think author's note; happy (almost) valentine's,, i’m projecting

1 day, 9 hours, and 47 minutes.

your last conversation wasn't anything out of the ordinary. there was no dry spell. no plateau. no failure to communicate. just you and satoru, plus the typical banter, talking about something as simple as what you were planning on making for dinner; to be more precise, what you were trying to make for dinner. you're a pretty awful cook according to him.

everything seemed to be going so well...really well...almost perfectly well— and with valentine's day right around the corner, you'd instinctively assumed that he'd ask you to be his. instinct is a difficult emotion, though. is it even an emotion? you're not quite sure, but your heart believes it is. your heart— which is practically pounding out of your chest at the current moment, stretching your skin, eager to feel the limitless fresh air and freedom that comes with floating on cloud 9— instinctively wants to believe satoru is your soulmate. you love him don't you? is the answer yes? it should be no.

you've known him for...what? four months? four months of your twenty years of life is seemingly small. that's only one point six-seven percent of your entire lifetime...one point six-seven percent of your life that you wish you could relive forevermore.

...he isn't going to text you back is he?

2 days, 2 hours, and 15 minutes.

each second passing is another flicker of hope that misses the candle wick. instead of lighting the path that leads to your eventual relationship, it lights a fire beneath your feet. your socks feel warm. there's coal beneath them. hot, burning coal withering away the sense of feel in your toes; breathing in the aroma of heartbreak until it becomes a roaring fire that consumes all of you.

why is he doing this? what did you do wrong? you haven't done anything wrong. he's just a man. a man who can't seem to stop playing with your heart.

you can hear his voice in the back of your mind. the part of your mind that connects to your heart. "can you facetime, right now? i'm having a bad day and i just want to see your face." he had to have meant that. "you don't need to apologize for talking over me, i love hearing what you have to say." a guy wouldn't just say that to say that. "don't be too hard on yourself, i know you'll figure everything out becuase you're you. you always know what to do." it couldn't have all been bullshit.

it can't have been bullshit.

because if that's all it was, then you're just a fool in love.

and fools in love are no better than clowns.

3 days, 14 hours, and 22 minutes.

you did what you hate doing. the thing that makes you want to scream into your pillow at the mere thought. the very thing that screams desperation and neediness and clinginess and insecurity all in one. you sent another message.

in the past, you've never had feelings strong enough to elicit such a response. your heart hasn't tied itself to another person's with a red satin bow. the fated string of fate hadn't found you yet. it allowed you to maintain a stable head and remain grounded with no hopes of love on your radar. you hadn't yet learned how to fly; until that day you met satoru and suddenly you had a hundred pilot lessons lined up day-after-day.

it was so easy being with him. everything was so easy.

for the first time ever you had no doubts. you weren't afraid of waking up one morning to find him gone. disappeared. nonexistent. you full-heartedly believed he'd never leave; and you believed he reciprocated those thoughts. now, though...now you may never know what bits and pieces he reciprocated— because your plane crashed. turbulence flew beneath the wings and drove the flight off course. the oxygen masks bellowed down upon the passengers, every seat being filled with your pounding heartbeats, and each and every one of them blew out of the window with no parachute. he didn't even try to cushion the fall.

4 days, 1 hour, and 39 minutes.

if there's one message you never expected to receive, it's surely 'seen 14 hours ago'.

you'd given him space and assumed he'd been busy with a million other things and hadn't had any time to send you a quick message. your last text wasn't even anything out of the ordinary, just a quick "are you okay?", you think that's pretty reasonable. it's reasonable, isn't it?

something could be seriously wrong with him. why else would he leave you on read? he's never done this before. usually, you're the one who's more distant between the two of you. that's how your relationship began, after all. he'd send five texts in comparison to your two; which later evolved into five rivaling five, and now to zero rivaling two. the scales have tipped. how do you rebalance them?

you trust satoru. there must be a perfectly good explanation for this odd irregularity that's occurring in your otherwise perfect relationship. after all, all of your friends love him— they think he's the greatest catch of the 21st century. he's never done anything in the past to warrant such strange behavior. this is simply a difficult week for him...and you'll be there whenever he's ready to vent.

5 days, 22 hours, and 7 minutes.

a broken heart isn't for the weak...but unfortunately, you're not one of the stronger warriors.

he's at another girl's birthday party. he hasn't messaged you back in almost six days...and he's with another girl? celebrating her? he could be holding her close and you wouldn't even know, because god knows he wouldn't tell you. he won't even say good morning anymore. he won't even answer your fucking three word message that you sent out of desperation and concern for his well being. instead, he's at the club with his friends, getting drunk and taking shots, having the time of his life; and you're sitting in your room watching his social media stories...believing that everything that went wrong is all your fault.

but it's not your fault.

it's not your fault you fell for someone like that.

someone like satoru gojo.

#i did fractions to write this #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo angst #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x y/n #satoru gojo angst #gojo satoru angst #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo fanfiction #gojo ff #gojo fanfic #gojo hc #gojo hcs #jjk x reader #jjk angst #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen angst #gojo satoru #gojo #satoru gojo

[bakugoushotwife]

Daddy's Home

a/n: yes this is a repost!! it got com labelled straight at posting last time and didn't even crack a hundred notes! btw there is a continuation coming by request so get excited for baby daddy satoru :0

cw: breeding, unprotetected p in v, daddy kink, sorta rough maybe idk

wc: 2.1k

“You really should know better angel.” He growls, his large hands gripping the backs of your thighs so hard they were starting to burn. You could only choke out a moan in response, your eyes stinging with tears as he fucked into you relentlessly. Your hips hurt from the wide-spread angle your eager husband loves to take you in, keeping your legs by your ears and fingers clawing at his biceps. The pleasure was so intense it colored your vision, circular orbs of bright greens and purples floated across your sight, and you knew you were losing composure. Your screams ramped up deliciously, making the strongest man in the world let his head fall back with closed eyes to memorize the sounds.

He couldn’t help it, really, and it was all your fault. He came home earlier than usual, meaning his sister-in-law’s toddler was still at the Gojo residence. He was two, and just a precious kid. He was usually well behaved and was a massive fan of his Ti-Ti and Uncle Sato. But when he entered his home to see you passed out on the couch, the little boy curled up on top of you, his heart skipped a beat. The boy shared a lot of your features since your sister was the mother, but it took him aback to see you look so peaceful. You had your arms wrapped tightly around him, even in sleep. Your breathing was light, mouth parted slightly. The little boy had his thumb in his mouth  and head buried in your chest. There were soft nursery tunes in the background, and he could smell dinner simmering on the stove. Everything was right in the world, it seemed. The boy must feel someone staring, for he picks his head up and sleepily looks at his uncle. The boy smiles softly at him before turning over on you and going right back to sleep. Gojo smiled at the sight, heart warming in his chest. He snapped a picture for you, but he couldn’t stop staring at himself. 

It stirred something inside him, something that yearned to see you cradle a child he gave you, one that looked just like you. He never pictured being a father. Not even when he took in Tsumiki and Megumi, he felt more like a cool older brother rather than their dad since he was still a teenager himself. But he also never imagined being a committed boyfriend turned completely whipped married man, but here he is. He couldn’t ever possibly imagine the joy and love he feels with the life you’ve built so far. He wouldn’t even know how to tell his past self about it, if he had to. It made him wonder if children were the same. He could only imagine a tiny little mixture of himself and the person he loves most, and he knows they can’t lose that genetic lottery. How could that not be the best thing in the world? Spoiling you for an extended period of time? He does that anyway. The thought of you growing his kid, watching you swell month by month, god it was so perfect to him.

So don’t blame him for this, you had to go and make him think about a family. So it’s only natural that he’s keeping you locked in this position, all his weight leveraging his slender hips into your body. He always abused this power, smirking at you as you twitched and jerked beneath him, getting more and more sensitive with each orgasm he brought you. You looked so good like this anyway, his sweet pillow princess just laying there taking him oh so well. Your hair somehow always fell so perfectly around your head like a halo, lips swollen and bruised from his assault on them and your face pulled together in a picturesque pout. Your gorgeous tits bounced rhythmically along with his feral thrusts, sweet hands pawing at him to ground yourself. Not to mention the view he has of your glistening cunt and cute ass, his balls slapping up against your warm flesh violently. He loved everything about it, watching your ever tight pussy swallow his long curved cock, coating him in your arousal and arrivals so beautifully it made him moan. His noises were always so breathy and dreamy, you felt blessed every time he made one. 

He was impossibly pretty, his hair messy from the paths of your fingers, the tendrils that hung in his face were starting to stick. His eyes always shined brighter, filled with focus and admiration for his wife. His mouth was also slightly open, soft pants leaving his similarly-swollen pink lips. You feel your core tighten again, pulling like a rubber band while your eyes rake over your husband’s body; pale skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat and several fleshy pink scars. His physique was ever perfect, tone chest and tight muscles through his abdomen, you loved trailing your fingers down them. You felt hyper-aware of everything, the sheets tickling your back and the noise from the fan overhead. The moon lit up the scene, giving Satoru an ethereal glow. 

“So pretty Sato..” You mumble mindlessly, smiling to yourself at your magnificent luck in attaining the world’s most beautiful man. 

“Thanks, pretty mama.” He says, managing to pull his lips together in a smirk. He was close, feeling your choking walls spasming around him made goosebumps spring up on his skin. 

You moan softly at the pet name and squeeze down on his muscular arms and his throbbing erection. He grins at your reaction, leaning over your upper half to whisper in your ear. The feeling of his breath fanning over your neck makes you squirm, making him chuckle airily. 

“You like being’ called mama? I’m tryin’ to make you one.” He grunts, kissing the shell of your ear. You can feel him twitching inside you, the slight squelch of your fluids was the only sound other than your soft moans punctuating every roll of his hips and the lewd words he whispered in your ear. 

“Oh yeah?” You muster the willpower to say, getting absolutely punished by his force. “My hubby wants to be a daddy?” You coo, holding the back of his neck. 

He shudders, and you can tell he definitely likes that. You giggle and watch his cheeks flush as that sends him over the edge, pumping his hot seed into you and moaning quietly through his high. He leaves himself there even once he’s come down, intent to keep any of his cum from leaking out. He does let your legs rest around his hips, knowing you must be incredibly sore. 

“You would want that, right?”

You look down at his member keeping you plugged up. “Looks like it’s too late for protests.” You joke, giving him a soft smile after. “Of course I want a family, I just never knew when you’d be ready. I’d love to see you be a father. No doubt you’d be great at it.” 

He smiles in that arrogant way of his. “Just like everything else huh?”

“I would say my favorite quality of yours is your humility.” You groan, rolling your eyes at your lover. 

Things would just spiral from there, his craving to breed you not fulfilled until you present him with the evidence. He would bring you vitamins and you would make sure to track your cycle and dress in a more accessible way at home. If possible, his need to fuck you has skyrocketed, forcing you to be impaled on his cock at any given spare moment of the day. You’re not surprised when your dress is slid above your hips shortly after hearing the front door open and clothes. 

“Hey there pretty mama.” His voice rumbles in your head, his warm bulge pressed against your bare ass. 

“Hey there baby daddy.” You giggle, bending over the counter a little more, wiggling your backside in his grip. His hands press into your hips for a moment, and then you hear the sound of his belt. You grin, spreading your legs wider. 

His expression is similar as he slides his arm around your hips so he could reach the front of your pretty pussy. As eager as he was to plant his kids in your womb he always took the time to get you ready for him. Your body instantly starts to tremble when he begins to rub methodic circles around your bundle, sending jolts of electricity through you. He chuckles at you, making sure his other hand was holding your hips upright. 

“That’s my girl, I know you love this shit angel.” He coos, sliding his hand down to slip a digit inside your waiting entrance. You moan lowly, clenching around the one finger. You’re a whimpering mess shortly after that, his second finger added to the mix doing enough to you fuck yourself back onto them. He always curled them perfectly, tickling your pleasure spot so perfectly you were coming around his fingers in record time. 

You turn your head to watch him pull his fingers out of your cunt, slipping them into his mouth happily. You moan at the sight, wishing nothing more than to have the evidence of his love growing in you. He cleans his digits, pulling off his underwear in a swift motion. His hard member slaps his white happy trail, and you’re wiggling in anticipation at the sight of his pretty length. His tip was leaking and pink, what you guessed must be at least an hour’s worth of need pent up causing that color. Even his veins were pretty, slender and purple perfectly decorating his long shaft. 

“Ooh, mama’s feeling impatient today?” He asks, quickly tugging his blindfold down to rest between his collarbones. He hums, eyeing your weeping cunt happily. “All this after just my fingers? You wanna be bred more than anything, isn’t that right?” 

He spits on his cockhead, stroking the lube around himself. You nod, his words and touch doing unspeakable things to you. It was true, you wanted him to knock you up just as badly as he wanted to do it to you. 

“Yes, I wanna make you a daddy so bad.” You whine, gripping the sides of the counter when you feel his tip spreading your lips. You gasp sharply when he shoves his way in, bottoming out with no resistance. 

He hisses at the tightness, always mystified by your pussy. “You’re gonna, I know you are. Not gonna give you the choice, princess.” He groans, grabbing hold of your hips and using the grip to slide you along his cock. It’s filthy, the sound of skin on skin and your helpless wailing. 

It only takes him a few minutes to have you sputtering brainlessly, grip loosening on the counter, your ability to support yourself long gone. You’re seeing stars and calling out for him in a mumbled pant, letting him know you were adequately satisfied based on your body language. 

“My pretty girl. She’s being so good for me, taking all this cum all the time. Makes me s’happy…can’t wait for my pretty girl to get pregnant..” He voices, only making your walls squeeze down on him sporadically. “I’m gonna give you my kids, mama, you be good and keep it.” He grunts, your ass rippling with his thrusts. He only needed a few more thrusts before his sperm was fertilizing your womb, making you feel impossibly good. 

Your soft pants are music to his ears. He grins as he slides out of you, easily sweeping you off your feet and into his arms bridal style. “Now go lay down and hold onto this round.” He winks, just intent on spoiling you even though you’ve explained that that doesn’t necessarily matter. He refutes you every time, simply refusing to accept that there was nothing extra he could do to help you conceive. 

Luckily you didn’t need any more help. Not two months later are you bringing him a handful of different at home pregnancy tests that prove that all the hard work has paid off. And naturally, you're swept into his arms like a baby yourself, getting peppered with kisses and sweet whispers of his excitement and his oaths to take good care of you, as his latest fantasy has come true. 

He stays true to his word, you don’t want for anything and he keeps you as happy as can be, though his insatiable craving for your body doesn’t lessen now that his mission was successful. Now that he gets to watch you swell with his child, your body changing to become even more heavenly if possible, he can only think of keeping you this way.

#jjk x reader #kyleewritesjjk #gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo #jjk thirst #jjk gojo #gojo smut

[seduzist]

that love, the crazy kind.

guinevere beck x fem! reader

cw: mentions of sexual harassment, stalking, obsession, murder, blood, smut (just a little), reader is kinda joe in this??? idk but they’re both crazy

beck was just different, different from anything you knew, she was the type of person that enchanted since the first time you saw her, looking for some book at the store you worked at. and since this day, you couldn’t stop thinking about her, stalking her anywhere, watch carefully every step she made.

didn’t take more than 10minutes for you to find out she liked girls, it was all over her social media, likes and shares here and there, it was like she was looking almost desperately for a girlfriend. and it has to be you, you were the one.

and of course, after some months of preparation, you showed beck that undeniable truth, she fall for you easily and just like you thought she was the perfect girlfriend. she was understanding and gentle, she was funny, sexy, lovingly, respectful, smart, and all of the things you’ve ever dreamed of.

everything was just how it should be. guinevere beck was just perfect.

until, that night.

one of her terrible friends invited you both to a stupid bar with stupid people and a stupid guy couldn’t stop looking at you. at first, she maintained her calm and silence, she wasn’t the jealous type, not at all.

she didn’t even lose it when he tried to hit you, asking you if he could buy a drink and giving a little drunk smirk that made she wants to take it off his face.

but when you denied the offer politely, telling him you weren’t interested, he tried to touch you, not your arm, or your hand, he tried to grab you by the waist and give you a kiss. of course you pushed him and told him to “get the fuck off”. he did.

beck was so perfect after this, she driven you home, told you to shower, helped you sleep with a nice mug of tea. she made you feel safe and sound like always, but that wasn’t enough, she had to actually keep you safe.

when you slept, she thought about the whole plan, she could stay with you all night, or she could go back to that stupid bar and make that idiot pay for trying to mess with was hers, and the second option looked way better.

so she got back, it was late at night, she waited in the totally empty and dark parking lot. the establishment wasn’t exactly the type that have cams on it, and by this angle she had the perfect view of who enters or leaves.

two hours passed, but beck was still wide awake, then she saw him, staggering pathetically, so drunk that at every step he didn’t fall could be considered a record.

she gets out of the car, approaching him, faking a smile.

“hi!” she said, getting his attention. “want to see something?”

[…]

when beck got back home, her clothes were drained in semi dry blood and she still had shiverings all over her, she did everything right? she got rid of the murder weapon, she disappeared the body, she made sure to drive back home in the way where there’s no cameras.

when beck took her dirty clothes off and went to a good and long shower, she made sure to take a good look at your sleeping figure, to remind her why she did all of this, it was worth it.

but if she truly trusted you and knew about your past, maybe if she had told you about what she did, you would have the opportunity to tell beck that a corpse floats on water after a few days of death, and that amounts of blood can’t go away in laundry, it must be burned.

when she did wake you up, through, it wasn’t to talk, it wasn’t even purposefully, she was just making noises and shaking the bed, when you looked at your side, you saw her, all naked with a pillow between her thighs.

“beck?” you called and she immediately stopped.

“i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to wake you up, baby.” her voice sounded genuinely sorry, but deep inside you knew she wanted you to wake up.

“it’s okay, keep going.” you whispered back, already sitting on the edge of the bed taking off your pajamas.

you couldn’t take your eyes off of her, her perfect body looked so good while pleasuring herself, you felt eager to touch her, but still undressed yourself slowly as she looked at you, like the sight alone made her even hornier.

when you finished, you get on top of her, taking the pillow off of her hands and kissing her instead, it’s like both of you were starving for each other, you didn’t know what made beck so eager but she certainly was.

you passed one leg through her waist, putting both of your centers together, it felt so good and warm, you couldn’t help but moan against her lips, starting in slow movements against her.

but when you looked down at her, you saw it, a little stain of dry blood just above her chest, you stopped immediately.

“what’s this?” you touched her skin, showing her exactly where it was the stain, she stuttered a few times but after some minutes she told you about everything. she thought you would be mad, or scared, she thought you would leave her, but you didn’t.

that night, you both made love more ferociously and lovingly than ever, for hours until your bodies couldn’t move anymore, that was the night when you and beck recognized you were equal, that isn’t a reason to hide each other’s feelings or personalities. that was the night where you felt like you belonged with someone, for the very first time.

#vanessa shelly smut #guinevere beck #beck x reader #you #fnaf vanessa #vanessa afton #vanessa shelly #vanessa shelly x reader #fnaf vanny #vanessa x reader #x female reader #x fem!reader #fem!reader #wlw #elizabeth lail

[janaispunk]

only bought this dress so you could take it off

series masterlist • this is part I

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

a/n: I was on my summer vacation last week, and I’m suffering from severe Dave York brainrot lately, which inspired a vivid daydream of Dave taking me on a little trip and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. I was planning to keep it a oneshot, but there are so many more ideas for this floating around in my head, so a part 2 miiight be happening. Please read the warnings, this one’s nasty! (it’s the murder daddy energy)

word count: ~10.4k (this was supposed to be a nice little pwp, idk what happened) (Dave was holding me at gun-point)

summary: You have been sleeping with Dave York for a few months, keeping things casual, when he suggests to go on vacation together. You’re not sure what to expect, but you agree, and Dave takes very good care of you.

warnings: bits of angst, dubious morality (Dave is cheating on his wife), kinda unhealthy relationship dynamics, age-gap implied, alcohol consumption, able-bodied reader, Dave pulls her hair, dom!Dave, sub!reader, rough sex, semi-public touching, sir kink, degradation kink, rough oral sex (m receiving), unprotected piv (reader is on bc in my head, but it’s not mentioned in the fic), dirty talk, Dave is a menace, spanking, choking, edging, spit kink, restraints, idiots in love, let me know if I missed any!

this is explicit 18+ content, minors do not interact pleaseeeee

Your phone starts buzzing on your work desk around 8 AM. You just got into the office and are starring at your monitor blankly, nursing a to-go cup of too expensive coffee and questioning your life choices. A regular Tuesday really.

You groan and flick your eyes down to your phone, your mind way too exhausted to deal with whoever is trying to contact you right now. You read the name on the screen and do a double take, your tiredness immediately forgotten. You hastily grab the device and press the green button to accept the call.

“Hey,” you say, trying your best not to sound just as eager as you suddenly feel. He doesn’t need to know the effect a simple call from him has on you.

“Good morning, sweetheart. What took you so long to answer, huh?” his voice sounds in your ear, calm and composed as always, but with a hint of teasing. You bite your lip, thankful that he can’t see how just hearing him speak has a blush creeping up your cheeks.

“S-sorry, just work and everything, you know?”

You can’t help the little sigh that you let out -work really has been a nightmare lately- and he chuckles sympathetically.

“You poor thing. Speaking of work, I actually have a favor to ask you.”

He knows fully well that he doesn’t need to ask you favors - you’d give him everything he wants, without question. His usual demanding tone is lacing his words and you involuntary clench your thighs together. God, you’re down so bad for this man.

This, as you need to keep reminding yourself, married man, who lives the perfect suburban life with his wife and their two kids. He’s not in love with you, you’re well aware of that, and you’re trying your hardest not to fall in love with him either.

You don’t know what exactly is going on between him and his wife and you don’t pry. He’s told you that things between them aren’t working out anymore and that they’ve agreed to stay together and play happy family until their girls are older. You’re not dumb, you know that this is the kind of story that every cheating man tells the other woman. And you’d probably call him out on his bullshit, if he were any other man. Hell, you wouldn’t have gotten involved with any other married man in the first place.

But Dave isn’t just any man and he’s got you wrapped around his finger ever since you met in a hotel bar a few months ago. You had just been stood up at said bar and Dave had been on a business trip, spending the night there. He came up to you, looking more handsome than any man should have the right to, bought you a drink and had you following him up to his room in the blink of an eye, which led to sex that was easily the best you had ever had.

Now, Dave calls you regularly, mostly when he’s close enough to meet up, but also some nights when he whispers filthy things into your ear until you come on your own fingers because he is too far away to put his hands on you.

You like to think that he cares about you, that you’re not just the willing means to an end and that you can actually give him something that he can’t get anywhere else. Something soft, a person that cares for him and gives him the chance to be soft as well. Because they exist, those moments of softness, in between tangled sheets and laughs shared in the darkness of your room, his fingers mindlessly dancing over your body when he thinks you’re already asleep and his lips pressed against yours a little too urgently when he’s saying goodbye to you.

But most of the time, Dave doesn’t like to care. He also doesn’t like to be soft. He’s ruthless, his edges sharp like a knife and he likes coming at you hard. He doesn’t tell you exactly what he does for a living, but you suspect that it’s dangerous and violent. He needs an outlet, somewhere he can let his aggressions run free, someone he can control.

This, you can definitely give him. You let him take it out on you when things get too much, you give up all control to him, and you love it. And he knows that you do. Sometimes you wonder if that’s the only reason he’s keeping you around, but you can’t bring yourself to believe it.

So, when your phone lights up with his name, you answer, trying to conceal your desperation to hear his voice, the hold he has on you, even if you’re fighting a losing battle. And when he’s asking for a favor, you hum questioningly, even though you already know that your answer will be “yes”.

“Take the next week off, and pack a bag. I’m having a few free days, so we’re going away for a bit, I’m picking you up on Saturday.”

He’s basically giving you an order, not stopping to ask if you’ve already got plans, if this might be a bad time, anything. Do this, be there, stat. Because he knows that you will do as he says and you know it, too.

Excitement bubbles up in you, the prospect of spending a whole week with Dave, something of a vacation, from what it sounds like, is more than you had ever allowed yourself to even daydream about. This is not what your relationship is about, it’s not what you do. Except that… apparently it is?

“I- okay, yes. That- that sounds great, Dave.” Your delight at his proposal is clear in your voice. “Where are we going? What do I need to pack? Do I need to prepare anything?”

He chuckles again and you can picture him shaking his head.

“No doll, don’t worry your pretty little head about it. Just bring your passport and pack for warm weather. And, sweetheart?” His voice drops an octave and he’s basically purring in your ear. “The sluttier, the better.”

He hangs up without waiting for your answer. You’re left to spend the rest of your workday in a daze, your panties soaked and your head busy with already cataloguing your entire closet and which things you’ll pack.

The days pass you by in weird chunks of time. On one hand, you can’t wait for Saturday, while on the other hand, you feel terribly unprepared, causing anxiety to creep up on you several times throughout the week. Every vacation you’ve ever been on has been meticulously organized and planned out by yourself and the lack of knowledge that you’re dealing with right now is entirely foreign to you.

What if you need a certain vaccine for wherever you’re going and you don’t have it? What if the flight has an early check-in that you need to take care of? Has Dave booked a hotel? How are the reviews? What do you need to prepare for?

The nervous urge to be ready for every kind of situation that you can’t satisfy right now is threatening to drive you crazy and you need to remind yourself more than once that this is Dave that you’re dealing with. Not one of your ex-boyfriends that would’ve come up with some half-assed plan that lacked in several vital points and required you to take care of things yourself eventually.

Dave is even more thorough than you, he doesn’t leave anything up to chance and he doesn’t forget things. You’re still reeling from the mere fact that he’s planning to take you away for a whole week. You’ve never spent that much uninterrupted time together and you honestly hadn’t thought that he would want to. This is couple stuff. And you’re not a couple. You’re just someone he sleeps with occasionally. You need to remember at least that.

You have texted him a few times, trying to get more information about the trip, but he hasn’t budged. You only manage to find out that he’ll come pick you up Saturday morning and that you’ll be gone for a whole week. And that you should pack a lot of bikinis.

“You make sure you’ll look good for me, and I’ll take care of the rest,” his text read. Followed up by a stern, “Stop worrying.”

You try taking his words to heart and get prepared in the one way you can: Buying lots of skimpy dresses and bikinis. You vividly picture him taking them off of you and it works. You do stop worrying.

Saturday finally rolls around and you’re ready, suitcase fully packed and dressed in a skirt so short that it will probably have you freezing your ass off on the airplane, but you can hardly bring yourself to care.

His taxi finally pulls up to your apartment building and he jumps out to meet you while the driver loads in your suitcase. You can’t help the giddy smile that’s on your face when Dave’s arms envelop you and your lips are on his before he even gets a greeting out. He chuckles as he kisses you softly, one of his hands cupping the back of your head, before he pulls away slightly to look at you. You’re breathless; the sight of him in his crisp shirt, the top two buttons undone to show off a sliver of his broad chest, his sharp jawline and those brown eyes trained firmly on you already enough to drive you a little crazy with need for him.

“Miss me that much, huh?” he murmurs against your lips, one hand still in your hair while the other one trails down to the hem of your skirt and skims the backside of your thighs before he gives your ass a rough squeeze. You nod quickly as a breath leaves you, not quite a moan but enough to clearly show him the effect his touch immediately has on you.

“Desperate little thing,” he grins and adds a playful slap to your backside before pecking your lips again and leading you towards the waiting car.

He slips in beside you, his hand immediately finding your thigh again and gently rubbing against the bare skin, creeping below your skirt’s hem again and again as you take off in the direction of the airport.

You’re falling into your familiar routine with him, the first effects of seeing him and the flare of your chemistry with each other calming down a little and allowing you to actually talk with him like a normal person, not a lovesick teenager. You’re filling each other in on the few weeks since you last saw each other, the little occurrences that you wanted to tell him about but didn’t have the opportunity to at the time. He’s not much of a texter and you understand that; he’s busy with his job and his family whose existence you still need to keep reminding yourself of.

His large hand doesn’t leave your thigh once throughout the drive, keeping a hold on you that feels especially possessive whenever his grip tightens. At the airport he grabs both of your suitcases and purposefully strides off, leaving you to walk beside him with nothing but your little purse. It’s not a grand gesture by any means, but still, no one has ever taken care of things for you like this and your want for him is bubbling inside of you.

He drops your baggage off at check-in and hands you your boarding pass. You can’t help the squeal that you let out when your eyes find the destination and you excitedly throw your arms around him.

“Are you serious? How did you know that I always wanted- But Dave, that’s SO much, I can’t have you pay for all this, I-“

He shushes you gently, though you can tell that he’s clearly pleased with how happy you are about where you’re going. He presses a kiss to the crown of your hand and rubs his hands over your shoulders.

“Of course you can. I wanted to do something nice for you, sweetheart, you’ve been so stressed out lately. And I-,” he trails off, looking almost a little bashful, “I wanted to spend my time off with you, without interruptions, you know.”

You think that he wants to add more, but he doesn’t, his expression slightly regretful like he accidentally said too much already. He barely verbalizes his feelings and you don’t push it.

“Thank you Dave, it’s- thank you. I really appreciate it.”

You lean up on your tiptoes and kiss him softly, trying to convey what you feel but can’t put into words. How you’re not even there yet and it’s already more than anyone has ever done for you. How ‘I wanted to spend my time off with you’ has butterflies erupting in your stomach, no matter how hard you try to suppress them. How it has you wondering if maybe, just maybe, you might be more for him than just the girl that he’s fucking on the side because his marriage is shitty. How much you wish that you were.

But you don’t have time to ponder all this because he possessively wraps an arm around your shoulder and leads you off towards security control, then to the gate where he gets you your favorite Starbucks without even asking for your order, and onto the plane, where he lets you have the window seat and his hand finds its way back onto your thigh.

You brought a book to read on the flight but you can’t make it through one page without losing your focus. Dave’s hand keeps climbing higher and higher, alternating between gripping your inner thigh tightly and drawing featherlight circles on the soft skin, and the heat that had been smoldering within you since you first laid eyes on him today is slowly but steadily becoming too much to bear.

Dave seems annoyingly unaffected, his face as composed as ever as he asks questions about your book, and you know that he notices the way you’re squirming in your seat, and how much he’s enjoying the fact that he’s the one to make you act like this.

You’re in the middle of a sentence when his fingers suddenly move all the way up your thigh and brush lightly against the fabric of your underwear. It’s a barely-there touch, but you’re so wound up that it’s enough to cause you to interrupt yourself with a loud gasp. He retracts his hand the tiniest bit, still hovering between your thighs, and tuts at you.

There’s a dark glint in his eyes that hasn’t been there moments before. You know this look and it takes everything in you to not clench your thighs together in anticipation of what’s to come. He raises an eyebrow, the condescension written clear on his face and his voice a low rumble, quiet enough for only you to hear.

“Shhh, sweetheart. Wouldn’t want everyone on here to know how much of a slut you are for me, now would we? Huh?”

He pinches the soft flesh on your inner thigh roughly when you don’t answer fast enough and you bite your lip, suppressing the whine that is threatening to come out of you.

“N-no…” you whisper and Dave arches his eyebrow even higher, looking at you expectantly. You gulp.

“No, sir.”

A small smile plays around his lips and he places a kiss on your cheek. “Good girl,” he mutters and his hand creeps up again until he’s rubbing against your panties, which you know are absolutely soaked by now. Your hips chase his touch and he chuckles darkly as he withdraws his fingers, completely this time, until he’s holding them up to your face. You can tell that the fingertips are shiny with the arousal that leaked through the fabric and you feel yourself blushing.

“Lick it off,” he demands, and your eyes widen. “H-here?” you dare to ask. His gaze hardens.

“You wanna talk back to me?” His voice is calm, but you can sense the tension that’s rolling off of him. You should be disgusted, both by his request and the way that he’s talking to you, but you’re not. This is how you want him, how you crave him.

You shake your head hastily, acutely aware that questioning him was probably enough to get you into serious trouble later on. The thought sends another wave of desperate arousal through you.

“Then lick. It. Off. I’m not gonna tell you again.”

His tone is clipped, his face a hard mask, but your eyes flick down momentarily and the growing bulge in his pants tells you that he’s not as unaffected by the situation as he wants you to believe. You train your eyes back to his face and hold his gaze as you lean forward and obediently clean his fingers with tiny kitten licks. His jaw tenses as he finally draws his fingers back from your tongue and runs them across your cheek, smearing the traces of your spit there.

A small whine slips out of your throat as you feel fresh wetness flooding your panties and he grins before he kisses you again, murmuring a “Good girl” against your lips. He leans back into his seat, his hand finding an almost innocent position close to your knee.

“Why don’t you read a little more, sweetheart? We’ll be there soon.”

He flashes you a smile that could pass as genuine but you catch the glint in his eyes as he clocks your dazed expression and your slightly parted lips. You nod dumbly and pick the book back up, but not a single word that you read actively registers in your mind.

You try catching glances at Dave, until by the fourth time, he pinches your chin between his fingers and turns your head back forward. “I said, read,” he murmurs into your ear. You know he gets off on this stuff, giving you stupid little orders. And on the fact that you let him. That you get off on it, too.

Your arrival happens in a blur. Dave leads you off the plane and through the smallest airport you’ve ever been to. Your brain is still a bit muddled from the unsatisfied arousal he’s ignited in you and now you’re excitedly turning your head left and right, trying to get in as many impressions as you possibly can. You’re not paying close attention to what’s happening and you’re thankful for the way Dave is taking charge without question. You’re happy to link you fingers through his and let him lead you wherever you need to go.

He retrieves your luggage, walks you out of the airport and to a waiting car. You spend the drive staring out of the window, your eyes wide, taking in all the beauty around you. It’s like you’ve arrived in literal paradise. You tell Dave as much and he chuckles, lifting your hand up to his mouth and pressing a gentle kiss against your knuckles. The unexpectedly sweet gesture has you blushing and a soft smile plays around his lips.

The hotel is, quite frankly, insane. If you had been worried about the amount of money that he’s spent on this trip before, it pales in comparison to how you’re feeling now. The building is nestled against the foot of a mountain, lush green trees surrounding the front and the road leading up to the entrance, while it opens up to a small, private bay where turquoise waves calmly roll up against the whitest sand you’ve ever seen.

There’s glass walls everywhere, giving you an almost 360° view as you step into the lobby. You know that you’re gaping and Dave actually laughs at your expression as he walks you up to the reception desk to check in. You’re not listening closely, too busy taking in your surroundings and convincing yourself that this is your real life and not some extremely realistic daydream that you’re having while sitting at your work desk.

Dave finishes up and wraps an arm around your shoulders to lead you to the elevators, stepping inside and pressing the top button. The doors slide closed and you can barely think about the fact that you’re apparently staying on the top floor before you’re being whirled around and end up with your front pressed against the elevator wall with Dave’s hands roughly shoving up your skirt until your ass is exposed to him.

Your surprised giggle morphs into a moan as his hand comes down hard to slap it, before gripping the flesh so roughly that it borders on painful. He presses his body up against yours and captures your lips in a sloppy kiss as his other hand slides up to cup your breasts over your tank top.

“Dave- we can’t-,” you gasp just as the elevator comes to a halt and dings. He growls and flicks your skirt back down, but keeps you pressed against his side as the doors slide open again. Thankfully there’s no other people around on this floor to witness your surely utterly disheveled state.

The dark glint is back in his eyes as he drags you along to your room number. He stops in front of the door and turns you towards him, his eyes trained on your face as he stares you down. His voice is low, his tone calm and controlled, but somehow it’s more threatening than if he shouted at you.

“You think you get to tell me what we can and can’t do? You think that’s for you to decide?” His hand grabs your face, his fingers digging into your cheeks, and you whimper. “N-no sir, I’m sorry, I just thought-“ He slaps your cheek, not hard enough for it to hurt, but enough to shut you up. Enough to remind you of your place in this dynamic. Your eyes flicker around hastily, your mind acutely aware of the fact that you’re in a public setting and that someone could walk in on this at any time. His hold returns your face, forcing you to look at him again.

“You don’t think, sweetheart. I decide and you listen, isn’t that right? If I want you to show off that slutty little ass of yours for everyone to see, then that’s what you’ll do.”

You nod to your best ability with his hand still grasping your face, mumbling another, “I’m sorry, sir.” You can barely think, the heat between your thighs almost making your legs buckle at this point. His thumb moves to play with your bottom lip and a cruel smirk grows on his face.

“You will be, doll. This is the third time you’ve disrespected me today. Looks like you’re in for a rough night, huh?”

“Yes, sir.” You can’t help the way you subconsciously bite your lip and you know that your desire is written all over your face, your pupils probably blown wide and your cheeks hot.

“Christ,” he chuckles and seals your lips with another kiss, “you’re a fucked up little thing.” You can only nod, prompting another laugh from him.

He steps up beside you and digs a keycard out of his pocket, holding it up against the door that responds with an affirmative beeping sound and a lock clicking. He pushes the handle down and swings the door open, holding it for you, a hand on the small of your back as you tentatively take a few steps inside.

The gasp you let out now isn’t fueled by your arousal, which is momentarily forgotten, but by your utter inability to believe what you’re seeing. You’re standing in a small hallway which opens up into a gigantic living room that’s probably bigger than your entire apartment and completely lined with glass walls, revealing a balcony and the shimmering sea several floors below you. You slowly walk to the adjoining bedroom that houses the easily biggest bed you’ve ever seen and a continuation of the glass walls. From what you can see, the en-suite bathroom features a lot of white marble.

You turn back to Dave, who has followed you silently and seems to expectantly take in your every reaction. “You’re crazy,” you tell him and he grins as you struggle for words. “This is- it’s so expensive, it’s- it’s too much, really. You’re crazy,” you repeat and he walks up to you to take your hands. His thumbs rub little circles over the skin and he smiles softly.

“As I said, I wanted to do something nice for you. You deserve it, sweetheart, you do.”

“But- but it’s-,” you trail off, mortified to realize that your bottom lip is trembling and your eyes are getting wet. You’re not going to cry in front of Dave, not because of a stupid hotel room. More like a fucking suite, your brain unhelpfully provides and your lip trembles harder. Dave quickly wraps his arms around your shoulders, his eyes searching your face.

“But it’s what?” he implores, his features displaying a look of such genuine concern that you’re pretty sure you’ve never seen on him before. “Sweetheart, do you not like it?”

You shake your head, trying to think of some way to explain that doesn’t make you seem totally pathetic. “It’s-,” you draw a deep breath, “it’s just- this is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. Like, ever. I just can’t believe you would- for me…” You trail off, not sure how to explain that you can’t grasp why he would be willing to spend this amount of money on you. “What I mean to say is, it’s beautiful. Just- thank you. Really, thank you.”

You smile at him and the relief is incredibly evident on his face before he pulls you into a hug, his arms engulfing you, one hand stroking you head softly. For once, his hands don’t wander down your body, he just holds you tight and you allow yourself to think that you could get used to this.

You feel awkward after your little breakdown, but Dave doesn’t mention it again. He lets you traipse around the suite to explore and unpack and follows you when you step out onto the balcony where you inhale deeply, enjoying the salty air and the view down to the bay. You think that it might be the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen in your life and you flash a beaming smile at him.

“You like it?” he checks again and you nod eagerly. “Good,” he mumbles and steps up behind where you’re leaning against the railing, one of his arms finding its way around your middle and his head resting on your shoulder. “That’s good.”

You stay like that a little while, taking in the scenery in front of you in peaceful silence, listening to the sound of the waves that roll against the shore and watching as the sun is sinking lower, a soft golden light spreading out across the sky and reflecting in the water.

Eventually, one of his hands slowly starts gliding up your torso. He cups your breast and his fingers graze your quickly pebbling nipple. You moan quietly and instinctually push your hips back against his crotch and the growing hardness there, which causes him to chuckle as he bends down to run his lips over your neck, leaving small kisses and bites on the sensitive flesh.

You’ve been riled up and let back down so many times today that you feel a bit crazed at this point, the need for him between your legs downright painful as you grind your hips against him and another desperate moan escapes you. “Dave, please… I need you.” Your head falls back against his chest and his other arm loops around your middle, pressing you against him as he tuts softly.

“So needy that you’re forgetting all your manners, huh?”

He pinches your nipple, hard, before his hand sneaks higher and loosely wraps around your throat. The anticipation of what is -hopefully- finally about to happen has you feeling lightheaded. You don’t care that you’re outside, that anyone could look up and easily spot you on the balcony, you would let him fuck you right there, as long as he just finally fucks you at all. You haven’t given him an answer and the hold around you throat tightens. Not enough for any real pressure, but enough to remind you of the power he holds over you.

“Please, sir,” you whine and he chuckles again.

“Not yet, doll,” he whispers into your ear and his hand leaves your throat, then he turns you around until you’re face to face. You can see that he wants you too, it’s written on his features clear as day, and you can barely fathom his level of self-restraint right now. You open your mouth, ready to beg again, ready to beg for anything to relieve the throbbing pain between your thighs, but he shakes his head curtly and even in your lust-filled haze, you know better than to keep going and shut your mouth again.

He grins at your obedience and gives your lips a quick kiss. “Good girl. You’ll get everything you want soon enough, don’t worry. Just gotta be patient a little more, okay?” You nod, and dazedly let him take your hand and lead you back into the bedroom. “But first, we’re gonna have a nice dinner. Think you’re gonna need the energy, doll.” His grin turns downright feral and a small shudder runs through you. “Show me what pretty things you packed, yeah?”

You hum your agreement and turn to rummage through the closet, pick out a dress and fresh underwear and wander off into the bathroom. You half-expect him to stop you and make you change in front of him, but he doesn’t say a word. Maybe seeing you naked would be even too much for his restraint right now.

You change into the dress; it’s one of the new ones that you bought only last week while daydreaming about how Dave would take it off of you. It’s a short silk dress, dark red and with an open back that basically only consists of a several straps that form a loose pattern over your skin, which is why you forego a bra and only pull on a black thong, a lacy, barely there scrap of fabric. You also redo your makeup, adding a lipstick in a shade that matches the dress and freshen up your hair, then step out into the bedroom again.

Dave is still wearing the black slacks that he wore all day, but seems to have changed into a new, creamy white dress shirt, while you were busy in the bathroom. The top three buttons are open, which is one more than usual, exposing more of his broad chest than you’re used to and you know that you’re wearing an expression of awe on your face. He’s so beautiful. He always is, he’s stupidly attractive, really, but it’s hitting you especially hard right now, in these new surroundings and with the prospect of having him all to yourself for one whole week.

He’s eyeing you as well, his gaze roaming hungrily over your body. You become acutely aware of just how short the dress is, how much of your naked skin is on display. You like your body, and you’re not ashamed of showing it off, but this place is fancy. You know you look good, but suddenly, you feel a bit awkward. “Is- is this okay? Because, I-,” you stammer a little, “I didn’t expect this kind of hotel and you said- you said you wanted slutty, so…” You trail off, biting you lip nervously.

Dave’s gaze softens. It’s giving you whiplash, how quickly he switches between the domineering, controlled, sexually charged persona that he’s displaying around you most of the time, and this sweeter, caring side. The side that wants to do something nice for you. He takes a step towards you.

“Turn around for me, sweetheart.”

You do, giving him a little twirl before turning back around and meeting his gaze. He looks… you don’t know how to describe it. The hunger for you that you’re familiar with is there, but it’s also something else, something… more. “You look perfect,” he assures you and you can’t help but believe him. Then he continues, “take off your underwear.” You blink at him and he cocks an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t want any panty lines when you’re looking so gorgeous with that pretty dress.”

You know fully well that the tiny thong that you’re wearing isn’t leaving any panty lines, but you also know better than to argue. The thought of having nothing to protect your modesty under the very short hem of your dress makes you feel exposed, a little uneasy, which is probably exactly what he wants. Always testing your limits, always looking to see how far he can push you, how far you’d go to please him.

You slide your thong off and make to toss it in the direction of your suitcase, but he clicks his tongue and holds his hand out towards you. You put it into his waiting hand and he stuffs it into the pocket of his pants. You suppose that he’s planning something and that you’ll get to know about it when he wants you to, which isn’t now, so you keep your mouth shut and step closer to him. “Dinner?” you ask softly and lean on your tiptoes to kiss him. He returns the kiss, his tongue entering your mouth swiftly, giving you a taste of how much he wants you, before he pulls back and grabs your hand instead, leading you out of the suite and back to the elevator.

It’s just the two of you when you get on, but two floors down, you’re being joined by an elderly couple who you greet politely. As soon as their backs are turned to you, Dave’s hand is under your dress, running a finger through your slick folds. You manage to swallow your surprised gasp, but flinch slightly, and you see him smirk out of the corner of your eye. He slides his finger up and down your slit, brushing your already oversensitive clit a few times, and you bite down hard on your lip to keep the sounds inside that threaten to spill out of you.

When the elevator finally stops, he withdraws his hand and waits until the couple is a few steps away from you, until he leans down to whisper in your ear, “Good girl, learned your lesson I see. Now, what do you say?”

“Thank you, sir,” you breathe, your legs a bit wobbly and your arousal already leaking out of you.

“That’s right.” He pats your ass in a sort of condescending appreciation and you follow him into the dining area.

The hotel’s restaurant is located on the first floor, a beautiful, light-filled space that opens onto a big terrace which seems to float over the ocean and gives you a gorgeous view of the sunset’s colors that have become even more intense since you left your room. You’re being led to a small table for two and you gape at the view, causing Dave to laugh at you again, but it’s a warm laugh, that feels like he’s genuinely happy about how much you’re enjoying yourself.

You try reading through the menu, but you know maybe half of the things that are on there, much less how anything tastes or what you would prefer. You shoot Dave a sort of helpless look and he grins. “Want me to order for you?” he asks and you nod gratefully, trying not to feel embarrassed about how out of your depth you are. He orders something, along with a bottle of red wine, which you very much appreciate. You don’t know much about wine, but this one tastes really good. It turns out that he ordered some kind of fish for you, that you still have no idea how to pronounce right, but now you know that it’s freaking delicious. You tell Dave as much and he gives you another smile that seems much too soft and overwhelmingly right at the same time.

Dinner with him is much easier than you had anticipated. Apart from your excitement about the whole trip, you had been a little nervous about spending an entire week with him, having to make much more conversation than you usually do. It’s not that you never talk, but sooner or later, you end up naked with him whispering filth into your ear. You don’t go out on hour long dates, maybe a drink at a bar, but no big dinners and extensive talks. Until now.

Now you know that he’s a great listener, making you feel heard and understood, never once giving you the impression that you’re boring him. You also learn more about him, about his past, though he stays vague about his current job and the situation with his family. But it’s nice, being with him like this. Another thing that you could get used to, but that’s also another thought to shove into some far away corner of your mind. Be thankful for what it is, don’t become greedy for more, you tell yourself.

After two glasses of wine and a dessert that you could have died for, watching the sun set over the ocean until the night sky took over, you’re buzzing with happiness, but also excitement for the next part of the evening. The whole dinner was better than you could have imagined, but you have also been turned on for hours, with the man that you want right in front of you. When Dave finally stands up and pulls your chair out for you, you all but jump up and flit to his side. He chuckles and looks at your eager face. “Don’t get too excited, sweetheart. Tonight isn’t gonna be all that fun for you.”

The dark glint in his eyes is back and you’re subconsciously clenching your thighs together. The simple thought of what he might do to you is enough to push the arousal that has been simmering inside of you to the forefront of your mind again. You’re amazed how quickly he can sink back into that domineering character that could make you do almost anything with a simple snap of his fingers. He wasn’t like that at dinner, he didn’t once give you the impression that you’re below him or that he doesn’t respect you, separating this sexual dynamic that you’ve established from other parts of your interactions with clean precision.

He leads you out of the restaurant, his fingers grazing the bare skin on your back and you’re once again reminded that you’re completely bare beneath the skimpy dress that you’re wearing. His hand dips lower, playing with the hem that feels like it’s barely covering your ass. Goosebumps are forming on you lower back and your thighs and he chuckles darkly.

He keeps playing with your dress during the elevator ride, his fingers sliding underneath and grazing your ass repeatedly, until you’re fully riled up again. You’re a little nervous now. He promised to be rough several times today and you don’t doubt that he will. You’re excited as well, you want him rough, crave his control over you, but still…

He takes out the key card and opens the door as you follow him quietly, waiting for instructions. You can feel the tension rolling off of him. As soon as the door clicks shut, he’s on you, crowding you back against it, his hands grabbing your wrists and pulling them up above your head while he leans down to capture your waiting lips.

The kiss is messy, all teeth and tongues as he devours your mouth, towering over you and keeping your wrists fixed to the door while his whole body is pressing into yours. You arch into him, helplessly trying to get him closer as you moan into his mouth when he bites at your lower lip, keeping it in between his teeth as he pulls back a little before letting it go. You whine, the quick stab of pain transforming into pleasure and traveling straight to your pussy, which causes you to spread your legs wider and grind your hips against him.

He gathers both your wrists in his large hand, still pressing them against the wall above your head, and lets his other hand roam over your body, grabbing at your waist, bunching up the dress there. “Looked so good tonight, all dolled up in your pretty dress…” he murmurs with his lips now dragging against the soft skin of your neck, occasionally nipping and sucking at the skin, “and all this just for me, sweetheart?” He bites down right below your ear and your hips buck against him.

“Yes, yes sir, fuck…”

Your breath catches in your throat when he abruptly pulls the neckline down to expose your breasts and scratches his fingernails over your nipples. He pinches one hardened bud between his nails and pulls slightly before he lets go and watches how the flesh bounces back, then he repeats the motion on the other side. You’re gasping, tears are welling up in your eyes, it hurts, but it hurts so good, your pussy is completely soaked and you just want him to finally, finally fill you up.

Then he steps back, his jaw flickers as he watches you, still pressed against the door, panting softly and with a dazed expression on your face.

“Get on your knees.”

You get down immediately, hoping against hope that maybe he’ll let you come sooner when you’re being good now. He allows himself a cold smile at your eagerness and steps closer until you have to crane your neck to look up at him. He opens his belt and slacks in sure, controlled movements, the only evidence of his own need for you being the massive bulge that’s right in front of your face. He doesn’t waste time, shoving his pants and underwear down in one move and letting his cock spring free.

You gasp quietly, your mouth opening on its own accord at the sight of his massive length and you look up at him hungrily. “Open wide,” he tells you softly, almost gently and you obey, sticking your tongue out and watching mesmerized as he lets his tip rest on your tongue for a few moments. He pulls back slightly, smearing a mix of your saliva and his pre-cum across your cheeks, then slapping you with his cock, which causes you to moan. “Filthy little thing,” he murmurs and sinks into your wet mouth in one hard thrust.

You gag almost immediately, your throat contracting around him and he groans as he grabs your head and holds you still. Tears well up in your eyes and you already feel lightheaded from the lack of oxygen. He finally lets go and you desperately suck in a lungful of air before he starts thrusting into your mouth again, hitting the back of your throat every time and causing you to choke around him. The way he pushes you around, uses you for his own pleasure has a new rush of wetness flooding your pussy and you’re itching to touch your clit, just a little bit.

He notices how you’re squirming beneath him, how one of your hands is inching closer between your legs and he stops his thrusts, his cock still taking up most of your mouth, and looks down at your face.

“You wanna touch yourself? You like having your face fucked like a whore?”

You nod as best as you can and hum desperately, gazing up at him through your tear-soaked lashes. He furrows his brow, looking down at you with that wicked glint in his eye. “You know how to ask properly, I didn’t hear you sweetheart,” he tells you, sinking even deeper into your throat and you fight to suppress another gag. You hum again and look at him pleadingly; he’s well aware that you can’t ask him anything with his cock filling your throat like this. “Guess you don’t want to, then,” he shrugs, “hands behind your back. You’re not touching that pussy without my permission.” You whine, your clit throbbing painfully for attention, but you obediently cross your wrists at the small of your back.

“Poor thing,” he coos and pats your head in mock-sympathy, then moves his hand back to hold you in place as he pounds into your throat with renewed force. You gag around him, tears flowing all over your face and drool streaming down your chin and onto your tits. He sinks into you again and again, holding you up by your head and making you sputter around him, desperate to somehow draw air into your lungs. “Take it,” he growls, “take it like the little slut you are, down on the floor for me. That’s how you like it, don’t you?” He finally pulls out of you and slaps your cheek when you don’t respond immediately. “Don’t you?!”

“Y-yes sir,” you rasp, gasping for breath, tears and spit still all over your face.

He crouches down cups the cheek that he just slapped, his thumb rubbing at the tear-stained skin under your eye. You’re positive that you look a mess, mascara running down your cheeks and your dark lipstick smeared all around your mouth, mixing with your spit. Your hands are still behind your back, the arch in your body making you push your chest out and putting your tits on full display for him. He starts toying with your nipples again and you want to cry. An orgasm feels so close, yet so far away. You feel like you could come with just a few strokes on your clit, but you have no idea how much longer he will string you along until he finally deems it enough.

“You’ve been such a good girl, sweetheart. So patient all day, I bet you’re dripping all down those pretty legs right now, aren’t you? So desperate and ready for me, yeah?” His voice is a low growl in front of you and you whine your agreement. It’s not enough for him. “Say it. Tell me how desperate my little slut is to finally get fucked.”

You hesitate, your eyes dropping to the ground in front of you. “I-,” you gasp as he roughly grabs your chin and forces you to look at him, waiting for you to do as he said. “I need you to fuck me, so badly. I’ll be so good, I promise, just p-please, sir,” you whine, feeling pathetic, your voice trembling and your face burning. No matter how many depraved things he gets you to do with him, for him, talking like this still gets you embarrassed. Which is precisely why he makes you do it.

“And what are you?”

You feel your face heating up. “Your s-slut, sir.”

He grins as he adds another slap against your cheek. “Damn right you are.”

He straightens back up, tugs himself back into his pants and looks down at you. “Bedroom.” You scramble to get up, but he shakes his head and lands a hand on your shoulder, pushing you back down again. “No no. You’re gonna crawl.” You sink back on your hands and knees, the amount of embarrassment and arousal that you’re feeling making you dizzy, and you look up at him shyly.

He nods approvingly and bends down to tug your dress up higher until your bare ass and pussy are on full display. “Good girl, right where you belong. Off you go, come on.” You bite your lip and start crawling towards the bedroom, his footsteps right behind you and you can feel his eyes drinking you in as another groan grumbles in his chest.

You stop in front of the bed and give him a questioning look. He gestures for you to stand up and you get back to your feet with trembling knees. He steps closer, his hands ghosting over your shoulders and toying with the straps of your dress.

“Such a pretty dress,” he murmurs as he slides them off your shoulders, the garment slipping down your body, leaving you bare except for the heels that you’ve been wearing all evening. You’re painfully aware of the power dynamic between you, how you’re completely naked and at his mercy while he’s still fully dressed. His hands roam over you, leaving goosebumps in their wake and come to rest at your hips. He squeezes the flesh there, then turns you around until you’re facing the bed.

One hand reaches up to your neck and he bends you over until your upper body is resting on the mattress, your back arching and your ass up in the air for him. He takes a step back and lands a slap on your backside without warning. You yelp, your body instinctively lurching forward and your legs shaking with the strain of keeping your balance in your heels. He notices, of course, and says, “You better keep those pretty legs steady, doll,” before reaching forward and massaging your stinging flesh. You hum, trying to get your muscles to cooperate, but your legs won’t stop trembling.

Dave’s touch leaves your body and he sits down on the bed beside your head, his eyes searching your face. “What’s your color, sweetheart?” he inquires, softly stroking your cheek. “Green,” you answer without hesitation. It has already been a lot and you’re sure that he’s nowhere near finished with you, but you like it like this. You crave it. He nods, his touch still gentle on your face.

“And what do you say when you need me to stop?”

“Red,” you whisper, leaning into his touch. “Good girl,” he murmurs and leans forward to press a kiss to your cheek, before he stands up again and disappears from your field of view.

“So,” his voice drawls from behind you, “I think I’ll give you twenty-five tonight, how’s that sound, sweetheart?” You gulp, but know that there’s only one acceptable answer.

“S-sounds good, sir. Thank you,” you breathe, the apprehension clear in your voice, and he laughs quietly.

“And what did you do to deserve this?”

You bite your lip again, struggling to think through the fog of arousal clearly enough to give him an answer that he’ll be satisfied with. “I d-didn’t listen and talked- talked back at you, and…” you trail off when his hand dips between your legs, swirling through the wetness there before retreating again. You inhale sharply and continue, “…and that was disrespectful. I’m sorry, sir, it won’t- it won’t happen again.”

“We’ll see about that,” Dave mumbles and his fingertips ghost over your lower back. “But that was a nice little speech, sweetheart. Starting now, you’re gonna count them out for me, yeah? Lose count and we’ll start over.” You nod and your hands grip the sheets as you try bracing yourself.

The first slap meets your flesh, not as hard as you know he can go, but hard enough to get a small scream out of you. “One,” you force yourself to say and he hums appreciatively, before landing the second slap exactly on the same spot as the first one. “T-two,” you whine, his handprint searing on your skin.

You make it until eleven before your legs give out, your trembling muscles collapsing under the task of keeping you upright in your heels while your body is scrambling to get away from the oncoming assault on your ass cheeks. You fall forward, your knees hitting the mattress right after Dave’s hand connected with your backside again. “Twelve, I’m sorry, sir,” you choke out.

“It’s okay,” he assures you, stepping closer and running his hands soothingly over your back as he searches your face, a look of soft concern on his face. “What’s your color, doll?”

“Green. Still- still green, sir,” you breathe out and you mean it. You feel like you’re on fire, but in the best way.

“Yeah?” he questions, “want me to continue?” and you nod your head eagerly. The concern washes away from his face, his jaw tensing and his eyes growing cold again. “Fucking masochistic little slut,” he growls and you moan, your walls desperately clenching around nothing.

He lets you stay with your knees on the bed, your ass still up high for him, until you’ve finally reached “twenty-five, t-thank you, sir.” You’re sobbing at this point, your skin feels raw where he hit you, but you’re also damn near delirious with want for him.

Dave strokes your skin gently, telling you what a good girl you’ve been and how proud he is of you, and you bask in his praise. Then his hand travels lower, slipping between your thighs until his fingers are running through your folds, feeling how soaked exactly his rough treatment has left you. “Fuck doll, you’re dripping. You really liked that, huh?” he murmurs as he pushes two of his thick fingers into you, sliding in easily and making you moan loudly.

He thrusts into your tight heat roughly, causing you to arch your back and spread your legs wider, your release so close that you can almost taste it. He keeps going until he feels you growing tighter, starting to clench around his fingers, and slides them out of you abruptly. You sob, feeling your orgasm subside again.

“I think you were about to come without permission, sweetheart. You just promised me you’d be good, didn’t you? Guess your greedy little cunt just can’t help herself, huh?”

You whimper an apology and receive another slap to your abused skin, causing you to jerk forward. “No doll, you stay right here. Give me your hands,” Dave’s stern voice orders from behind you. You let him take hold of your wrists, leaving you completely at his mercy in the position that you’re in, and he digs your panties out of his pants pocket, looping them around your wrists until they’re tightly secured.

When he’s satisfied with his work, you finally hear the rustling of him taking off his clothes. Without warning, you feel him swipe the head of his cock through your drenched folds, teasing you with the tip, grazing your clit and causing you to gasp, then sliding back until he’s prodding at your entrance. You whine loudly and try pushing your hips backwards, but his hold tightens around you, keeping you in position.

“Not so fast. Be a good girl and beg for it,” he requests, in a voice that still sounds so controlled, while you feel like you’re barely able to form words anymore. You’re not embarrassed anymore, the promise of his cock so close to where you want him wiping all inhibitions from your mind.

“Please sir, I need you so badly, please fuck me, I’ll do anything, just please…”

You feel pathetic begging like this, but you couldn’t care less. Dave lets out a strained groan behind you, and then he’s pushing into you in one strong thrust. It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve taken him or how wet you are, his size always stings at the first intrusion and you wail, your body being pushed forward by his movement and he grips your bound wrists, holding you steady as he starts pounding into you.

“So fucking tight and wet you little slut, fuck you take me so good, being such a good girl, fuck…” Now his voice sounds wrecked behind you and you moan loudly at his words and at the way he’s splitting you open. This is what you had been craving for hours, the feeling of him thrusting into you again and again, and you push your hips back to meet his thrusts, to get him even deeper.

One of his hands grips your hair and pulls, forcing you to arch your back even more and slightly shifting the angle where he’s pounding into you, hitting something so delicious inside of you that you almost come on the spot, your walls already fluttering around him, but you’re not allowed, your scrambled brain reminds you, you need…

“Please sir, I’m gonna come, can I please…” Your voice breaks off into a sob when his movements slow down and he pulls out of you, pushing you forward until you’re laying flat on the bed, and he starts working on releasing your bound wrists.

“Good girl, asking for permission,” he praises, “but you’re gonna look me in the face when I make you come tonight.”

He frees your wrists and turns you around so that you’re on your back, looking up at him through teary eyes, desperate for your release. “Poor thing,” he coos as he gets between your legs, placing his large hands on your thighs and spreading them wide. His cock nudges at your entrance but he doesn’t sink back into you, his gaze trained on your face and his hand wandering up to play with your bottom lip.

“Open wide,” he tells you and you obey, parting your lips and sticking your tongue out. His breath has turned heavy by now and he hovers over you, hungry eyes roaming over your face, your open mouth and your wet eyes. He draws back the tiniest bit, then he spits into your mouth, his saliva coating your tongue and you whine, the filth of the whole situation making your pussy clench once more.

“Keep it open, show me.”

You hold still, your mouth wide open, feeling his spit mixing with yours as you stare up at him, waiting for his next command. “Now swallow,” he finally says and you do, showing him your empty mouth afterwards and he grins. “Fuck, you’re such an obedient slut, being such a good girl for me. You’d do anything right now, wouldn’t you? Fucked all the thoughts out of that pretty little head, yeah?”

“Yes, anything,” you whimper, and he sinks his cock back into you without preamble. Your eyes widen at the sensation of being full again and the new angle, moans of his name falling from your mouth and you wrap your legs around him, grasping at his wide shoulders to hold onto something as he starts pounding into you again with raw strength.

One of his hands wraps around your throat, squeezing until you feel light-headed, intensifying the feeling of his deep thrusts into you. Pleading whispers leave your lips, but you don’t even know what you’re begging for anymore, if you want more, if you want him to stop.

His movements speed up even more, hitting spots inside of you that have you moaning and squirming underneath him and the hand on your throat travels down to your breasts, toying with your nipples, pinching and pulling and sending delicious waves of pain through you.

You’re so close again, when his hand slides down to rub at your clit, making you scream and throw your head back, your eyes pinched close. He grabs at your face and forces you to look at him.

“Oh no, you’re gonna look me in the eyes when I make you come, are you gonna come sweetheart?”, he growls. You whine and nod desperately, your eyes shining with tears. “Go ahead then, come for me, squeeze my cock like the good little whore you are.”

He swirls his thumb over your neglected clit once more, gives you a particularly hard thrust and your vision swims, your whole body tensing up before you bear down on him and fall apart. You’re clenching rhythmically around his cock as the orgasm tears through your body in pulsing waves and you’re pulling him over the edge with you as he climaxes with a deep moan, spilling his release inside of you.

You’re a trembling mess, your breath stuttering and your mind still caught up in a blissful haze, and you’re only vaguely aware of him collapsing beside you, but you register the tender kiss that he presses to your cheek before he gets up and retreats to the bathroom.

The next thing you feel is the bed dipping as he sits down beside you again and you slowly blink your eyes open. Maybe it’s the post-orgasmic bliss that you’re still lost in, but you think to yourself that he looks especially beautiful right now, his face relaxed with a small smile playing around his mouth, where the stubble of his beard is showing through at the end of the day, and with his brown eyes warm again now as he looks at you.

“May I?” he asks and holds up a damp towel. You nod, returning his smile and watching as he brings the towel down between your legs, cleaning you up and soothing your hot skin. He gently turns you over and spreads some kind of healing balm over your burning cheeks, careful not to touch you too roughly. He also cleans your face, his soft touches almost enough to lull you to sleep.

When he’s finished, he maneuvers you around, causing you to giggle, until you’re in the middle of the bed and he can pull the covers over you, sliding in beside you and wrapping his arm around your middle. You shuffle closer until you’re securely tugged into his side, your breath fanning against his broad chest.

“You good?” he asks, looking down at you and placing a kiss on your forehead. “Yeah,” you smile up at him and stretch to reach his mouth with your lips. He kisses you back, his hand coming up to play with your hair, and you smile even wider. As much as he likes to be rough with you, you think that what he actually needs, is the softness.

series masterlist

if you enjoyed reading this, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment! <3

#dave york #dave york fanfiction #dave york x reader #dave york x f!reader #dave york x you #dave york x female reader #the equalizer 2 #the equalizer 2 fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedrostories #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fandom

[dazyskiie-luv]

Overblot mc/yuu but...????

TW — mention of vomiting, fighting Crowley and winning (sorry Crowley lovers), past death. I like thinking a lot tbh

not necessarily angst but it is in here! Same with fluff...this was really just me rambling.

* EDIT: WHY DID IT TAKE HOURS UNTIL I FINALLY GOT TOLD I WAS WRITING OVERBLOT WRONG.

I think about MC overbloting a lot and I also think about adding it into my own books because of how??? good??? the idea???? is???????

I genuinely imagine that even from the start MC was in danger of overbloting themself, with the stress and despair of finding out they aren't in THEIR world, away from their (family and/or friends) with possibly NO WAY BACK EVER because of some egocentric crow refusing to do more than he wants to???????

They would obviously be hella upset, stressed, depressed, anxious, etc because they know NOTHING of this world and is practically a BABY among people who lived here THEIR WHOLE LIFE.

So as more overblots happen, the more their OWN overblot is brewing. Bubbling, waiting to enter the game. Especially with the magic always getting slashed onto them. I think the only reason why they HAVEN'T overbloted just yet is because of grim

a more personal headcanon; Grim's fire, when you have a close bond with him, sorta starts erasing your blot and fueling HIS flames, making it more powerful. Essentially, think of when you're close friends with someone... you'll find it easier to fight for them right?? like you have more power to do that??? that's what its like

Now think of when MC is just TOO deep in their mind, TOO deep into their emotions and its the ONE TIME grim isn't there to help. They go to throw up blot and after panicking for a bit they just accept it. They accept that "I'm gonna overblot and probably die" because they're just too tired to worry abt themself

They don't tell anyone and since the overblot is already taking over the entire inside of their body, grims flames can't really???? get it all???? It'll always be there and it'll continue to grow and slowly grim notices that when he's feeling more powerful than ever while MC is showing obvious signs of getting ready to overblot

Grim choosing not to say anything to other people would be like... i guess out of character but at the same time i think In character????? He knows how tired MC is with dealing with everyone and honestly he's tired of it too so YASSS SLAY HENCH-BESTIEEE!!!!!

Sooner or later the others would notice too and it would be a little late to help MC since the overblot is already seeping out of their skin like they're crying. and honestly? their body IS crying. it's crying blot. And even as everyone is screaming and panicking about MC, they're just... sitting there.

Like they're annoyed everyone is making a big deal out of it considering no one cared before, and they're just like "stfu we're in class" and then focus on the teacher going "u can continue im sorry abt that."

And everyone is just??? confused?? because why aren't they going haywire or like.....???? idk..... crying in pain....????? what...........

MC just chilling the entire day while overbloting, even their overblot monster just floating behind them in peace and waving at times when people look for too long while everyone else is wary and giving them (+ grim who's always in MC's hold) a bunch of space while the teachers and dormleaders have their pens/wands/wtvr thr fuck at command just incase

but then everyone just realizes that??? MC isn't gonna???? do anything?????? and it kinda irritates them because why aren't you doing shit its freaking them out.

And lets say,,, ortho... as discreetly as he can... scans you. And it shows that you're perfectly fine??? like you aren't dying or in pain. It even shows the Blot monster being alright too like its just a guy standing there.

And now the confusion is up to 100 because WHAT????

MC and the Blot [+ Grim] just doing their everyday assignments and eating in the cafeteria with their friends being visibly tense and MC just raises an eyebrow like "whats wrong with yall tf" before continuing to absolutely DEMOLISH a burger they got for free. FREE!!! best day ever fr they'll tell you that much

I feel like the Blot would get sorta aggressive/protective when it comes to people who has like hurt MC to the point they had to take a nurse visit (half of the school but its alr we gang fr) but when it comes to crowley....??? They'll see the FULL POWER of a magicless blot monster which is actually more terrifying than the others.

The blot going hulk on crowley is so funny to imagine for me cause he'd just be running away and suddenly gets smashed into a pillar from a literal stomp. just one. and it was relatively weak compared to the Blot AND MC picking up and swinging that SAME PILLAR to smash it into crowley.

All that anger and other negative emotion finally coming out the SECOND they even so as HEAR that crows heartbeat nearby. It gave everyone whiplash but then again they also all collectively thought that he deserved it considering he hasn't truly done anything to HELP the students but just to HELP the schools reputation.

I'm half certain a student died there and he just covered it up and they turned into a ghost that haunts places. (i mean... look at the three ghosts in Ramshackle. they used to be students there I'm pretty sure????? i forgot.)

As MC is beating the DOG SHIT out of crowley the Blot is just cleaning everything up slowly because they realized that they dirted up the place :( and when MC is done they help too as the teachers all circle around a throughly beaten and bruised Crowley who has blood seeping out of his mouth while being half awake.

Of course they help him don't die because they honestly don't want the one helpful person to go to the equivalent of jail in twisted wonderland for committing murder and ykw thats so real.

I feel like as Mc stays in this overblot form everyone thats close-ish to them gets memories of things that's happened to them in the past like how MC did. But it's worse. I want an mc thats traumatized im sorry and i want it to be worse than what half of these guys went through.

I need them to feel guilty even more. Like. "Oh my god I really said that when— holy shit" FEEL BAD!!!!! Grim would already know their past because I know I would be cuddling into Grim's stomach and crying about everything.

When Mc finally stops "Overbloting", the Blot would still be there but as its own person :D How does this work????? it works bc I said it does.

The Blot™ would help MC a lot and vice versa, basically acting like parents now with how worried they get over everyone and the other. Grim is eating the attention up though as both Mc and The Blot cuddle as therapy (and bc they wanna)

Everyone (especially idia) would need time to like... get used to that because there's "NO FUCKING RECORD OF AN OVERBLOT BECOMING ITS OWN PERSON AND BEING....NICE?????"(shrouds words not mine ong) and when they do get used to it its like everyone is genuinely happier because! gasp! they are!!!

kick the crow out the seat. Both the Blot and Mc are the new headmaster contrary to the students voting them when Crowley got demoted from it.

I also feel like....??? Instead of MC goinf back home cause they realize just how BAD it was back home, they choose to have a bridge between both realities so that its their (friends and/or families) choice on if they want to be with them in twisted wonderland or not.

MC & Blot beating the shit outta Crowley as everyone watches (and cheers)

#🪐:maxwrites.exe #♡ #gn reader #x reader #twisted wonderland #◇ #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #♤ #Overbolt MC #Overbolt Yuu #Overbolt #dire crowley #Headmaster Crowley #ortho shroud #idia shroud #The Great Grim #grim twst #☆ #Nobodies really mentioned here besides the one I put tags as.... #also not truly an x reader but still it can be worse if you see it as one #romantic or platonic is up to you! #♧ #long post #overblot #oh my god. #crying i said bolt this entire time.

[ofthecaravel]

Heaven In Time

Chapter 1: Thoroughfare

Danny Wagner x Sam Kiszka

Summary: Danny, en route to California to find love, picked up small town runaway Sam on a Texas thoroughfare and has been on the road ever since. While Sam adjusts to life as himself, Danny's wondering if he's found love without even leaving the South.

Tags: Religious trauma, mentions of homophobia, Anxiety, very sweet little crushes, idk all very soft when its not Tense

Words: 5.4k

A/N: HEAVILYYYYYY inspired by Thoroughfare by Ethel Cain, even borrowed a lyric here and there. Any and all credit to my beloved Hayden. First chapter of ??? maybe 4?? but I haven't decided. There's going to be more mention of Sam's questionable Southern Baptist Christian upbringing in those and I understand that may not be everyone's cup of tea so feel free to scroll if that may be upsetting for you.

~~

“Do you think we’re gonna get arrested?”

Over the gentle splash of the thin, chlorinated water, Sam heard Danny’s long sigh. Usually he laughed at all of Sam’s misplaced little comments and queries, but sometimes he just sighed. Sam knew he didn’t mean anything harsh by it, but it definitely didn’t feel good. 

“Not if you don’t say anything,” Danny answered plainly. A smile ghosted his tired face as he rotated to face Sam, who stared back as he awkwardly bobbed with his long hair trailing behind him like a veil. After however many dusty miles and state lines they’d crossed, it always felt good when they had a motel to crash at instead of the cramped cabin of Danny’s pickup. And it felt twice as good when the motel had a pool, especially when it was nice and late at night and there was no one else around. Sam wasn’t much of a swimmer, but he was happy to tread water and watch Danny float. His broad chest would peek just over the surface of the water and his eyes would close while his dark curls moved like the fingers of lazy clouds. 

Yeah, Sam was happy to watch that. 

“It doesn’t feel right,” Sam murmured, watching his fingers flex anxiously under the water in the refracted view the harsh fluorescents provided. With the country sky full of nothing but mosquitoes and the occasional whistling breeze, the yellowing pool lights were the only thing illuminating them. Sam felt suddenly self conscious thinking of how washed out he must look in this rare moment where he was the one being watched. He turned to the side, only offering Danny his profile. 

“They won’t know the credit card ain’t mine until we’re in Arizona,” Danny insisted in a hushed voice. “And even then, I didn’t give the desk my real name. We’re golden if you can keep that mouth of yours shut. Can you do that for me, cowboy?”

“Sure I can.” Sam bristled, but knew Danny’s request was justified. Ever since Danny had taken pity on him and picked him up on that thoroughfare back in Texas, Sam never seemed to be able to do the right thing. He had gotten as far as he had in an attempt to remove himself from the suppressing influence of his uber religious hometown, but so far it seemed like he was still dragging it along with him. It was an embarrassing first impression to leave on someone as great as Danny was turning out to be, but he hadn’t left Sam behind yet, so Sam figured he must have some redeeming qualities that kept him around.

“Atta boy,” Danny smiled, his eyes closing as he lolled his head back and drew in a deep breath of the cool night air. “Christ alive, I needed this. How long do you think we drove today?”

“5 hours?” Sam guessed, thinking back on the day. “Felt longer ‘cause of the sun.”

“Damn that sun,” Danny cursed. “Burned the hell out of my nose, too.”

“We can get lotion or something at the next gas station,” Sam offered. Truthfully, he found the ruddy blush on Danny’s nose and freckled cheeks extremely flattering, but he knew it had to hurt. Growing up in Alabama, Sam knew a thing or two about sunburn.

“With what money?” Danny laughed humorlessly, sighing again and running a hand over his face. “Although at this point, I’d be willing to skip a dinner to get my hands on some lotion. Mm. Not that I don’t appreciate your presence, but...” 

Sam blinked blankly, feeling an implication pass him by like they often did. He didn’t say anything in return and sank a little further into the pool, trying not to feel even more stupid than he already did. Being tired certainly wasn’t helping, but he was really starting to feel the weight of all of his graceless actions from the past week pile on him as they swam in silence. Hopefully Danny would want to head up to their room soon and Sam could just try again the next day.  

Danny noticed Sam’s silence and opened his heavy eyes to observe him with a worried look. Sam’s neck was craned and the sharp point of his nose grazed the water as he continued to stare into the palms of his submerged hands. He was halfway to prayer by the looks of it, and Danny guessed that probably wasn’t too far from the truth. It was a state of mind Sam never really seemed to leave. Danny remembered the scandalized look on Sam’s face when they’d shared their first diner meal together and Danny had picked his fork right up and gotten to work when the waitress had brought their plates. Now he knew to wait and let Sam save them with a quick round of grace before eating. Sam had never asked for his hand to hold when doing it, but somewhere between the Texas border and New Mexico, Danny had offered it up and they’d been doing it that way ever since. It sure made it a hell of a lot more tolerable for Danny to wait for Sam’s long winded recitations with his slender hand in Danny’s. He really didn’t mind too much, especially after he’d begun collecting little glimpses of the seemingly excruciating evangelical life that Sam had left behind in Alabama. Danny didn’t pry, but there was a lot about Sam that he didn’t know. He watched Sam lit up in the pale, shifting luminance coming from the pool and realized with a strange, absent pang that he wanted to know. Maybe all of it, actually.

“Not a star in the sky,” Danny commented dreamily, tilting his neck back to stare at the pitch black sky after another long minute of staring at Sam left him feeling flushed. “It was always easy to pick ‘em out when I was on the farm, but I really have to squint when I’m in cities sometimes. It’s a crying shame.”

“We had to have all the lights out in town at a certain time so I always got to see the stars,” Sam replied in a small voice. “My brothers were always looking for Castor and Pollux, but we got lost after finding Orion every single time. Always forgot whether to look up or down or west or what.”

Sam smiled at the memory, remembering watching his older brothers bicker in whispers in front of the window while pressing fingers to the glass and eventually calling Sam in for help. Their parents fell asleep fast and heavy, so nights were usually when he and his siblings really got to be themselves. Sam found himself tired during the days almost all the time, but he’d carried his drooping eyelids with a bounce in his step. Even on the rare instances when he dozed off during study or services, he’d take a ruler to the knuckles with a smile. 

“I’ve always been partial to Orion,” Danny agreed, searching it out as he said it. “Probably because it’s easy to find and I’m a simple man when it comes to stuff like that.”

“You’re plenty smart,” Sam complimented. He finally lifted his head from his gloomy stance, his ear resting on his shoulder as he turned his smile on Danny. “Especially with maps. We’d be halfway to Argentina if I were the one navigating.”

“I wouldn’t mind that at all,” Danny laughed. “We can go there after we find love in California, how about that?”

“Perfect,” Sam complied, feeling a familiar sour rush of adrenaline when reminded of their end goal. It was ignorant to feel shocked over and over when he thought about it, especially considering that talk of Danny’s unknown Californian love were some of the first words Danny had ever said to him. Danny had pulled up next to Sam on the side of the road in his beat up pick up truck, told him not to run, and asked if he wanted to go see the West with him.

“‘Cause love’s out there,” Daniel had explained after Sam had hopped right in. “And I can’t leave it be.”

And Sam had agreed. Out of luck to spend and no more energy in his body to spend on walking, it was the perfect escape. It still was. It’s just that the more time he shared with Danny, the more he disliked the thought of Danny sharing time with anyone other than him. Sam was suddenly very sure he was greedy and selfish and wicked, and he made plans to pray on it after Danny had gone to sleep.

“Smart,” Danny echoed with an airy laugh, finally lifting his hair from the water and shaking his head slightly. “I don’t know about all that. If this were a movie, I’m pretty sure I’d be the muscle of the operation.”

“I guess that’d make sense. How much can you lift?” 

Danny gave Sam a mischievous look and shrugged, hoping the smirk creeping onto his face didn’t give away his plans for what he’d do next.

“Not sure,” Danny answered coolly. “How much do you weigh?”

Before Sam could respond, Danny rushed forward as fast as the water allowed and grabbed Sam around the waist, boosting him up with a noisy splash. Sam shrieked initially, but it gave way to a surprised laugh, every nerve alight with buzzing heat as Danny lifted him up. Danny could only manage to keep him up for another few moments before buckling at the knee from the close contact, allowing Sam a little time to plug his nose before Danny dunked him under.

Sam met the shifting blur of the pale water and felt a jarring, overwhelming peace as the water swallowed all sound and sensation and he began to sink to the bottom. For a second, he thought he might like to stay there forever, just floating and free from everything he didn’t understand about what was happening to him, what had already happened. What he wanted to happen. 

Sam didn’t even feel the sizzle of his lungs begging for air until he opened his eyes best he could and saw the blur of what was waiting for him up above.        

Now, Sam had obviously been far too young for him to remember his baptism, but as he brought himself back to consciousness and pushed himself out of the water and into Danny’s arms, he imagined it was a similar experience. Without really thinking, his arms went around Danny’s neck and he breathed in a great, shuddering gasp, desperately filling his chest with air as Danny’s arms reflexively wrapped around him and kept Sam pinned to his chest as he coughed.

“Fuck, Sam, did you forget to breathe?” Danny whispered urgently, resisting the urge to shout and wake the other motel patrons. “I mean, pardon my French, but you scared the shit out of me for a second there!”

“Sorry,” Sam choked out as he began to control his breathing and let it give way to an embarrassed laugh. “I got distracted for a minute.”

“Yeah, I’d definitely say you were coming up on a minute!” Danny sputtered, patting Sam’s back in a last ditch effort to knock any water loose. “I’ve never seen anyone go that long underwater. Good lord. You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m okay, I promise,” Sam insisted, leaning back to flash Danny a sincere look of assurance. Curiously, he didn’t feel the need to unlock his arms from behind Danny’s neck when doing so. In the same way, Danny didn’t feel the need to release his grip on Sam, keeping their bare chests flush as Sam comically mimicked drawing in deep breaths and releasing them to demonstrate his capability.

“Fine, fine, I believe you,” Danny relented, despite the anxiety still fluttering in his chest. “Just don’t scare me like that again. I get nervous enough when you’re out of my sight, and now you’re telling me I gotta worry about you when you’re right in front of me? Phew.” 

“What do you mean you get nervous when I’m out of your sight?” Sam laughed, his dark brow crinkling inquisitively as his stomach gave a little flip. 

“Just worried you’ll get to wandering,” Danny replied with faux nonchalance. “Don’t want some lawless vagabond picking you off the street.”

“Ain’t that what you did?” 

Danny tossed his head back and let out a loud laugh, knowing he needed to be much quieter than he was but doing nothing to rectify it. Sam burst into a round of hushed giggles and attempted to put his hands over Danny’s mouth as he shushed him theatrically. They goodnaturedly tussled  for a minute before Danny finally let Sam go, pushing him back and looking away with a nervous laugh still running its course in his chest.

“I got enough law in me to keep an eye on you,” Danny continued on, flicking his wrist lightly to splash Sam. “Can’t have you leaving me to drive the rest of the way on my own.”

“Well, I only ever leave if there’s not much worth staying for,” Sam muttered. It wasn’t entirely true when considering the importance of what he’d left behind in favor of hitchhiking aimlessly in pressing Texan heat, namely his family. He felt guilty saying it, but Danny took his words with pillow softness. His laugh melted into a shy smile that fell on Sam like a kiss on the forehead. 

“Lucky me, I suppose,” Danny smiled, punching Sam gently on the shoulder. “I’ll do my best to make the rest of the trip worth staying for.”

“You won’t have to try too hard,” Sam replied sincerely. “I’m having a lot of fun so far.”

“Yeah?” Danny questioned with an amused arch of his eyebrow. “You’re having fun coughing up dust in the passenger seat of a beat up truck that doesn’t work half the time? You’re having fun having to share flat, suspiciously stained motel beds with some sorry hick you met two weeks ago?”

“Well, when you put it that way, it sounds terrible,” Sam laughed. “But it is fun. It’s the in-between stuff that’s fun.” 

“Like what?” Danny prodded, giving Sam another playful little splash. 

He asked without any real pressure, but there was a big part of Danny that really needed to know if he was making this spontaneous road trip a good time for Sam. It seemed a little ridiculous to some extent considering that when Danny set off, he wasn’t expecting any kind of lingering company in the slightest. At the end of the day, Sam was a borderline neurotic runaway that Danny had taken a chance on after some strange gut feeling had told him to take a left and not a right while driving aimlessly. But at the same time, Danny was really starting to like him. It both confused and warmed him.

“I don’t know!” Sam sputtered. “It’s always fun to look through gas stations for stupid knick knacks. That mood ring keychain was pretty cool, you have to admit.” 

Danny only laughed in response. The tacky keychain had pretty obviously been for kids, but with the way Sam’s eyes had lit up when he pressed his thumb to the heat reactive surface, Danny had found that fact the least important part of the equation.

“It’s fun when the diner menus have stupid names for the sandwiches,” Sam continued, feeling increasingly more embarrassed talking about himself. “And I definitely have fun when I get to listen to my station on the radio.”

“And you can continue to have that fun in half hour intervals,” Danny asserted, trying not to roll his eyes while recalling Sam’s beloved church music station. “Anything else?”

“Hmm. This is pretty fun,” Sam answered with a quick, impish shrug. “Even though you tried to drown me.”

“Hey!” Danny scoffed while Sam sailed into another round of delighted giggles. “I’ll show you drowning!”

Danny reached out and they wrassled again, a flurry of arms and bickering laughter as Danny pretended to try and dunk Sam under the water. Once again, Sam’s arms went around Danny’s neck as they struggled, and once again he made no move to remove them when Danny slowed. However, this time around, when Sam felt the careless adrenaline fueling him with a whisper of unknown courage, he seized it and gave Danny a quick kiss on the cheek. It was no more than 2 seconds of his lips on Danny’s slightly stubbled skin, but it struck Danny like a slap to the face. Sam released his grip on him and gave him a good natured smile. 

“Seriously, this is so fun,” Sam insisted. “But we’ll never sleep if we keep being rowdy. Bed?”

“Good thinking,” Danny replied a little too quickly, successfully fighting a quiver in his voice and letting out a silent, choked sigh when Sam turned his back on him and started making his way to the edge of the pool. Facing away from Danny allowed Sam a moment to let his innocent, grateful gesture sink in. He began to panic slightly, rushing out a hurried mental prayer that Danny hadn’t taken it the wrong way. Sam almost turned to apologize, but decided it would be more awkward if he did, instead electing to haul himself out of the pool and grab his towel as if nothing out of the ordinary was raging inside his head.

Meanwhile, Danny definitely wasn’t taking it the wrong way. But he was taking it in a very surprising way. Feeling sudden and immense guilt, he realized that he was really going to have to book it to the hook where his towel hung in order to cover the “reaction” he was having to Sam’s little kiss. Thankfully, he was able to make it without Sam seeing. Danny felt grateful for his Southern charm when Sam finally did turn his doe eyed smile back on him and Danny was able to steer their conversation in a new direction as they walked to their room and he kept his towel tightly wound around his waist.

-

But neither one of them really recovered from it. Something so small and instantaneous weighed heavily in the back of their minds as they went about their separate nighttime routines and turned away from each other when Danny turned the light off. 

After an infuriating hour of staring up at the flaking ceiling and listening to the muffled whistle of a keening wind outside the window, Sam finally heard Danny begin to snuffle and sigh, signifying sleep. He released a pent up sigh and rubbed a hand over his eyes as he tried to manifest sleep. A few hours prior he had been nearly nodding off at dinner, but now that he was alone in the inviting dark with Danny, it was hard to keep his eyes closed. Usually he whispered himself to sleep with psalms that lulled him into a fuzzy, dreamless void, but it felt wrong to do so with the imagery pervading his mind. None of it was graphic, simply a replay of how it felt to float in Danny’s arms. And how safe he felt with Danny’s hand on his back. How the feeling of his mouth on Danny’s cheek made him wonder how it would feel if it were the other way. How it would’ve felt if Danny had picked that moment to turn slightly, causing Sam to catch his lips instead of his stubble. 

It was shameful, but Sam felt himself tensing and carefully guiding each muscle so that he could turn over to lay on his side facing Danny’s back. Unable to lay alone with his thoughts any longer, he decided that the sight of the body next to him would be enough to quell the uncomfortable desire in his chest that was beginning to frighten him slightly. However, he was startled to find that Danny had turned over at some point as well. Sam’s heart flitted and jabbed at him from his ribcage as he took in the sight of Danny’s cheek pressed to the pillow, his mouth ever so slightly ajar as he drew in deep breaths. He was laying on his chest, and Sam fought the urge to trace the swells of muscles in his arms as they came to cross underneath the pillow beneath his head. There was a needling, demanding pull in Sam’s stomach now, one that yanked and strained the longer Sam took in the sight of Danny’s placid, perfect face in the spectral moonlight. It puppeteered him to slide a trembling hand up and delicately cup Danny’s freckled cheek. Sam felt as though he was doing something exceedingly terrible when his thumb traced a gentle journey over Danny’s skin that still buzzed with heat from his light burn. Danny drew in a big breath and released it through his nose, stern eyebrows knitting slightly in a dream as Sam screamed at himself in his head to move his hand, flip back over, and just go to sleep. Yet it seemed like such an insurmountable task now that he’d felt Danny’s breath on his wrist. Worse, it reminded Sam of the proximity of Danny’s lips to his own, only inches away and closer even to his fingers. Sam’s mind raced as he became obsessed with possibility. 

His dreams were quickly dashed in a moment of blinding, white hot panic as Danny sniffed and stirred, stretching his arms slightly as his eyelids fluttered. Even with Danny rousing, Sam couldn’t find the strength to move his hand. He kept it resting with soft pressure on Danny’s cheek as he panicked about whether or not to feign sleep. All the while, Danny blinked fully and his eyes came into focus. Sam settled for a fake, heavy lidded gaze, doing his own round of “half asleep” blinking as Danny studied his expression. Danny let out an amused huff through his nose and his arm facing Sam loudly disturbed the sheets as it lifted from under the pillow and his hand clumsily tapped against Sam’s own on his face. 

“You’re dreaming, Sam,” Danny mumbled, his voice low and grumbling as he fought to speak without falling asleep again. “Go to sleep.”

“Not dreaming,” Sam whispered tiredly. He watched as Danny’s hand stretched and rested fully over his own, Danny’s fingers curling a little as his eyes closed again and he began to doze. 

It was such a little thing, but that pull inside of Sam snapped. There was something overwhelming him, and in his exhausted, newly freed state of mind, he saw no other option but to succumb. For the first time, when he felt the compulsion to pray for his salvation, he ignored it outright.  

Shifting forward, Sam used his hand on Danny’s face as leverage to gently pull himself forward and press his lips to Danny’s. He did so with no real pressure, simply lingering as long as Danny would allow him to and trapping a shivering breath inside his lungs as his eyes closed at the relief. He fully expected Danny to spit and push him off the bed, leaving him right then and there to hop in his truck and find California all on his own like he was supposed to. His fingers pressed into Danny’s skin at the thought, holding on to him as long as he could before this impulse came back to bite him in what he was sure would be seconds.  

Instead, he was met with the ginger push of Danny’s lips meeting him halfway. It only lasted for a couple of seconds, and Sam could taste the lingering whisper of mint toothpaste on his breath behind the numbing warmth of his tongue, which did no more but tap momentarily at Sam’s closed lips. When Danny’s lips unstuck from his, Danny barely pulled away to speak, giving Sam the luxury of their close proximity for longer than he ever could have dreamed of. 

“Now you’re just getting my hopes up,” Danny breathed with a laugh that lasted only a fraction of a second and seemed more like a punch of air from his chest.

Not really understanding what Danny meant, Sam flew into another panic. He could no longer feign a sleepy stare and blinked rapidly with restless nerves waking him up all the way. His heart pounded in his ears and he prayed his hand wouldn’t prickle with sweat from the dread beginning to course through him. All at once, he could hear a chorus of a hundred voices from back home reminding him of the great, divine consequence of what he was doing. 

“Sorry,” Sam apologized, his eyes immediately prickling with anxious tears. “I just…”

“I just don’t want you waking up tomorrow and feeling all…you know, guilty or whatever ‘cause of something you did half asleep,” Danny murmured. He cursed his moral compass pointing him to true north, even in this miraculous circumstance when the dial seemed to be spun on its axis entirely.  

“I’m awake,” Sam argued in a whisper. “That’s why I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that with you sleeping, that’s-”

“I was awake, too,” Danny replied simply. “I mean, when...”

An infuriating, tense minute passed between the two of them. There was much to be said, and also nothing at all. Too little time had passed in each other’s company to have any kind of profound feeling to confess, and yet there was a confounding magnetism that left them staring into the other’s eyes with heavy breath and rattling hearts. Danny’s hand eventually fell from where it had lain over Sam’s, but before Sam’s heart could sting with hurt at the loss, he felt Danny’s arm adjust to wrap around his waist and pull him closer. With this motion, their lips connected again, and Sam breathed in sharply through his nose as he attempted to fall into the rhythm of this disarming, second ever kiss. The matchbox capacity of the motel room and the sleeping world beyond its cracked windows were swallowed up by the fervor of Danny’s shuddering breath and the heat rolling off his skin. Sam heard the chastising chorus in the back of his conscience begin to sing again when Danny’s hand on his lower back tightened its grip. His heart hammered thinking about roaring hellfire and scores of taunting devils, but when Danny carefully rolled Sam onto his back and Sam opened his eyes, he saw only an angel.

“This sure is a step up from your little gesture in the pool,” Danny acknowledged, caging Sam in with an arm at his side and another by his head. 

“I was only saying thank you,” Sam muttered sheepishly, struggling to speak with his throat so dry and his muscles so alive with flickering reactions he fought to suppress.

“What are you saying now?”

Sam fell silent. He had no experiences to draw on or words in his vocabulary to place what he felt about Danny. Kind, gracious, handsome Danny, hovering over him with the patience he doled out time and time again when lesser men would have rolled their eyes and drove off.

“I think…” Sam started, fighting to sort his scattered, uninformed feelings. “I’m still saying thank you.”

Unexpectedly, Danny’s eyes flickered with apprehension. Sam’s eyebrows knit with confusion when Danny leaned back to straddle Sam’s hips, suddenly wearing a somber expression. Sam’s bottom lip quaked and pouted as he hurriedly propped himself up on his elbows.

“What?” Sam blurted. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, fuck, I fucked it all up, didn’t I?”

“I just really hope you don’t feel like you have to…do anything for me just ‘cause I’m giving you a ride,” Danny said earnestly. “I’d be really sore if you thought of me that way. I don’t expect a single thing from you.”

Sam’s heart gave a deep, aching clench as Danny’s words sank in. He felt his eyes nearly welling with tears again as he watched Danny look down at his hands in his lap before flicking his eyes up to Sam, probing him for a response. 

“No,” Sam replied firmly, pushing off the bed to sit straight and stare up properly into Danny’s eyes. “No, no, that’s not it at all. I would never. Never ever. You should know that, Danny, come on. I, it’s just…”

He trailed off again, blushing with embarrassment as the words finally came to him, plain and true. 

“I just like you is all,” Sam admitted, thankful for the shade of night to conceal the flush he knew was painting his face pink. “I’m sorry.”

“You keep apologizing when you got nothing to apologize for,” Danny accused quietly. His hands were close to shaking as he tried to calm himself down, but it was hard not to shiver at Sam’s confession.

“Sorry. Product of my upbringing, I guess.”

“Well, I got a bone to pick with a lot of things about your upbringing, if I’m being perfectly honest.”

“Me too,” Sam whispered truthfully. 

Danny studied Sam’s face with that familiar worried look he found himself sporting every day now, taking a minute to smooth Sam’s hair back and get lost in his dark, doll-like gaze. 

“I know it wasn’t part of the plan,” Sam went on with a small, shameful voice. 

Danny let out an airy, one note laugh through his nose and rolled his eyes, finally plucking up the courage to cup Sam’s cheek as Sam had done to him. 

“I’m not even sure what ‘the plan’ is anymore,” Danny sighed, finding it difficult to look anywhere but Sam’s rosy frown. “I know what I said, but I think deep down all I really wanted to do was go. California just seemed like the best place to start.”

“So…” Sam coaxed, unable to stop himself from tilting his chin into Danny’s grip. “When will you know where you’re going?”

“Now that I’ve met you, Sam? I think I know where I’m headed.”

Before Sam could bring up any matters of direction, of Danny’s supposed destined Californian love, or of what was to become of them as a them, Danny kissed Sam for a third time. Nothing special, nothing mind blowing. Yet with it, Sam felt every saying about the magic number, three strikes, and the Holy Trinity itself fade in comparison. And when Danny laid him down again, Sam swore he could see the stars.

 -

The next morning, Sam sat in the passenger seat of the truck with his head hanging out the window, chestnut hair spilling behind him in the wind as the bare fields and pale blue sky rolled on by. With his shirt unbuttoned to remedy the heatwave, anyone would’ve been able to see the small, tender bruises lining his collarbone and marching down his chest. Beside him, Danny kept one eye firmly on the empty road and the other on his passenger. On a whim, he took a hand off the wheel to fiddle with the radio, adept fingers spinning the knob until a choral worship song came crackling over the waves. Sam turned his head at the music and made a fond sound, shoving Danny’s shoulder with a light push and settling back into his seat. However, after a minute of listening, Sam found himself reaching to change the station. He settled on a rock station blasting a song dripping with bass and drums, nodding his head along to it curiously as Danny shot him an incredulous smile. 

“I fear I’ve corrupted you,” Danny laughed, reaching out to muss Sam’s hair.

“Good,” Sam hummed. “I needed it.”

“Yeah, you did. Just remember you promised not to go running off on me. And no bar fights. And before you ask, tattoos are a solid maybe.”

Sam laughed, pressing up against the headrest as he kicked his boots up on the dashboard and allowed himself to recline. For a moment, it crossed his mind that this might be one of the first times in his life he felt truly comfortable. It also crossed his mind that Danny’s persistent worry of Sam running off into the night was becoming increasingly more ridiculous. As he looked at the man driving next to him, who was miraculously unaware of the midday sun setting his curls and perfect side profile alight, Sam knew with confidence there was nowhere else he’d rather be. 

~~

Chapter 2!

#the day i stop writing fanfics based off of ethel cain songs is the day i die #i will never stop or get better or learn #gvf #greta van fleet #danny wagner #sam kiszka #sanny gvf #greta van fleet fanfiction #greta van art #karoufiction

[seishiroh]

“THREE KNOTS.” / itoshi sae x f!reader.

— sfw. angst. non-established relationship. long distance lovers. pining. fluff. mentioned rin itoshi (not too canon compliant vague state of their relationship.) insecurity. some jealous undertones. misunderstandings. no real comfort.

— not proofread. might be a bit too wordy. also some chance of ooc-ness cause, idk, i tried though. :] ending might've sounded a bit rushed but i was trying to do something and it was not... doing anything. loosely inspired of NIKI's Autumn.

it's a tempestuous relationship—whatever you have with itoshi sae. but he's all you've ever known. whatever love is, it's defined by him.

you met him only three years ago. when he flew to japan to renew his passport only to stay because of blue lock—and whenever you think about it, it's almost like it was meant to be—you and sae.

the meeting him, the wanting him, the wanting you.

you're not sure what it is about him and what it is he saw in you that kept you together then. but his nights were yours. you'd trace your name against his exposed skin and you know he can tell, because you can feel him tense up whenever you do it.

he never stopped you then.

and you wonder which reaction was the most real from sae: the way he'd tense up as you traced your name or that he never told you to stop.

like you could.

like you had him.

you were both only eighteen; it's the first love you've ever known—maybe it's the only love you'll ever come to know.

but sae itoshi's reality is far from yours. so, so far from yours. that's why you're gripping his hand in yours like you'd fall from the earth or float away from it if you let go.

sae doesn't tell you this, not when he needs to board his plane with only a few minutes left, but he almost wishes he could stay with you.

play house, play lovers.

maybe he won't be itoshi sae, and you won't be y/n, but he'd love you the same.

you've gotten only barely a year of you and sae, but at the airport, you hold out your heart—soft and beating fast.

"i love you," you whisper against the pulse right under his ear, like if his heart could hear it, then maybe he won't have to go.

he hears you loud and clear. only because the language of your love is something he could recognize from a mile away.

sae itoshi is only barely nineteen. and i love you are foreign words even if he means to say them.

his thumb brushes against your bottom lip. it's gentle, along with his gaze, trained on the movement.

sometimes you wonder what goes through his mind whenever he does this, just right before he tilts your chin up, teal eyes meeting yours. you're also unsure what it is about sae's eyes that makes them look so piercing; you only ever see it when he's looking right at you.

he leans in, eyes flickering from yours down to your lips, then he brushes his lips against yours—it's barely there—like he's testing it like he hasn't done this a million couple times before.

then he presses a kiss on the corner of your mouth, butterfly kisses, fleeting then coming back for more.

only then—does he really kisses you. he kisses you like it's enough to make up for the words he's not saying.

"i'll come back," he says in between kisses; even at that, he can feel the smile on your lips. it's just a promise, but you smile like you trust him—like you genuinely believed it, like you'd hold him to it even if it took a decade.

"i'll call you when the plane lands," he adds.(because it's the best he could say.)

"it'll be midnight here," you reply, while still gripping on his unzipped tracksuit, your other hand against his chest—because he could keep the words to himself, but you figured the wild thumping of his heart couldn't lie, couldn't ever keep a secret.

"you'll answer," he tells you.

and he's right. he always is.

and one day, you'd wish all of these stolen moments with him were enough. only because they had to have been, only because itoshi sae knew little else outside football, but he knew you.

sae thinks you're quite easy to read from the get-go, but in the months you've spent together, sae has learned you. as though you mattered that much.

you were only barely nineteen. you think you might've shot to the stars when you dreamt about sae itoshi not leaving you or maybe keeping you.

"sae-chan!" his manager yells from a distance, "we have to get in now!"

it's barely there, but you can feel the way he sighs. when sae lets you go and walks away, he doesn't turn back, doesn't wave, doesn't glance to see if you're walking away too.

he doesn't look out the window once he's seated inside the plane; he doesn't watch the view of japan fade away.

but at one thirty-six am, your phone is ringing.

you pick up at the first ring—because you haven't slept, subconsciously waiting for his call.

his voice filters in first, too monotonous for the words he's saying, "i should've asked you to come."

you laugh. only because you know he doesn't mean it, not really.

you miss him already, though. so you allow his little lie. besides, maybe it's not a complete lie. perhaps he really thinks so, but even if he did, he'd never allow it.

unlike you, allowing his calls at midnight to talk about the day and whisper empty promises for the next few months.

"after soccer," he says silently, "we can stay together."

his voice is warmer through the phone, mostly from his exhaustion than anything, but you think it must mean something at least—that it's always you on the other end of the line whenever he comes home, it's always you on the receiving end of his smile through the screen, always you that you see him texting after his team wins a match.

"after soccer," you echo him with a laugh, "i don't think there's an after soccer for you, sae."

your tone isn't malicious when you tell him this, and he's not sure what comes first—that he knows he's hurting you or that he loves you more for understanding.

"i'll figure it out," he answers you, completely serious. he says he will like he could do it all on his own.

"i'll figure it out with you," you say. "i'm right here with you, sae," and you tell him because you think he needs the reminder.

it's odd, you hope you're not wrong, but you can feel sae smiling through the phone in the silence.

when you whisper these promises to each other, promises that are as empty as they are pretty—you think it must mean something.

sae only wanted things that pushed him towards his goals but then there was you... and for a while, you thought you belonged there.

it must mean something, that there was you—running and trying so hard to catch up to his dreams because he wanted you there. running eastward to the warmth that sae had reserved only for you.

but if you were more honest with yourself, there is nothing between you and sae.

sometimes, when sae is gone from you and far into his own world, you think perhaps you might've truly been delusional to think you ever had a shot at calling him yours.

that's why when he gets involved in a dating scandal—with someone who's not you—you have to pretend everything is fine. you think it shouldn't be much of a challenge to do so, since no one even knows about you and sae.

as for sae, you wait for his calls, but for the next few weeks, they never come.

still, you try to think maybe it's your fault. you haven't reached out since then, but he hasn't either; you're stuck with nothing but a promise that you're starting to doubt ever even existed.

you know you love him, and you'd like to think that somewhere in his heart, sae loved you too.

except it's not enough to keep you from doubting otherwise until itoshi rin comes knocking on your door, plane ticket in hand, like whatever you had with sae hadn't ended when you stopped talking to him weeks ago.

but sae's little brother is there, telling you to come to sae because his brother's not doing well without you.

you're not sure what it means because sae seems to have been doing just fine when you saw his recent game—especially when you saw a picture of him leaving a building with the rumored girlfriend.

that's why you're shaking your head at rin, who's still standing by your front door. at rin, who's sighing and finally relenting.

"i don't care what you do, i'm just here to give this," he tells you (and you can't help but pick up on the way he speaks like sae) but he reaches out and takes your hand, leaving you the plane ticket and walking away without so much as a goodbye.

the flight isn't til three more days.

you stare at it, laid on the palm of your hand, and somehow you feel like crying. sighing, you close your door and leave the plane ticket on your coffee table.

maybe the universe would do you a favor and let the wind take care of it, fly out the window or fall somewhere you couldn't find.

the next morning, it's still there.

when you come home, it's still there. you consider ripping it, hoping you won't let yourself stumble over and stupidly back into sae's arms somehow.

but when the night comes and there's a gaping hole in your chest where sae resides, you miss him so much you think you'd die—your resolve breaks. you think about texting him because that's the easiest part, but the curtains of your window sway forward at the wind, and it makes you think of sae and the way it's the first thing he does when he wakes up, opening the window and letting the air in, and how it would be so lovely to see him do it when you're there.

there's a plane ticket taunting you.

you figure flying all the way to spain for sae is crazy but if it meant seeing his face, hearing his voice—if it meant you'd have the chance to keep him in any way he'd allow, perhaps it'd be worth it.

rin sends you a message just as you're boarding the plane the next day; it's an address to an apartment in spain and instructions to contact sae's manager once you land.

you follow it all—heart over head until he's right in front of you, lithe fingers curling over the handle of your luggage and rolling it inside his apartment—where all his windows are open, all wind and sunlight pouring in.

"rin said you didn't wanna come," he speaks up, turning to look at you awkwardly standing by the door.

"i didn't—" you try to say, but it feels like a lie, "but i missed you more."

sae walks up to you, his hands tucked inside his jacket and his stare that never really gives away how he feels.

"why not?"

you give him a shrug. "is there someone else, sae?" you ask, so blunt and earnest that his lips twitch in a smile.

sae reaches out, holds onto your hips, "you've got a good brain in there. use it," he replies, lets your question fall back to you, "is there, y/n?"

you frown at him like you're a child telling him he's being unfair. "there might," you pause, "but then i'd have to leave," but your hands moving to his chest doesn't make it convincing.

his heart jumps at your touch, it beats steadily. it's a rhythm only you're privy to.

"...there isn't," he says finally, eyebrows furrowing. "you're with me."

you smile because you believe him, "you stopped calling, though?"

"you were upset," he quips.

you nod, point taken. "and you let me be upset at you, itoshi sae? just like that? and let me think maybe you don't love me after—?"

the scowl on his face is quick to form as you spoke, "shut up," he says, completely serious.

"will you say sorry?" you say instead, trying to sound teasing, but your voice is soft and it's the easiest thing in the world for sae to pick up on.

"no," he whispers, pulling you even closer.

"make it up to me?" you continue even though you know he'll shake his head, stand his ground. not scared enough to test his patience, even though maybe you should be.

you want to let up, to take it as it is. to love him with no need for anything else, but the reality of your feelings win and you're asking another question before you could stop yourself.

"am i with you, sae?"

"stupid," he mutters. "i love only you."

right there, in his hold and the sunlight hitting him just right, you find yourself in itoshi sae's apartment for the first time, finally offering you his affections.

perhaps the world can have him every other way, but him just like this, you get to have all for yourself. in the way he pulls you in, presses kisses to your skin. in the way he comes through the door and searches for you in the room, and he smells so good and feels so safe for no reason at all.

while you're there, still unknown to the world, your hands are intertwined beneath the tables when he takes you out, it feels just enough.

in the mornings, you wake up early with him. it's contagious—he's contagious. his habits and idiosyncrasies. when you're brushing your teeth, he's carelessly littering kisses on your neck until you're scolding him about how you can't move. he gives your hips a pat—once, twice—peers at you through the mirror, then he's off.

sometimes, you wonder what it would be like to be able to call him yours. say he's your boyfriend, mean something more.

you think about how nice it would be if you could stay here with him. play house, play lovers.

and no one had to know, because he was enough.

but when sae's stopped for a post match interview and they're asking about her—the girl in the pictures—you wonder if you're enough. because sae stops only for a moment, then he’s sneering at them to fuck off.

under the sheets and a few hours left before you fly back to japan, sae's room is dim in the night. you tug on the necklace he keeps on all the time, bodies pressed together in a bed only fit for him.

he hums, eyes sewn shut still.

"are you only ever with me, sae?"

there's a beat of silence. sae knows exactly what you're talking about, but he's almost sure nothing he could say will never stop you from wondering what if.

so he doesn't try to dispel it, but at least he pulls you in and presses a kiss on top of your head.

he offers you a whisper of yes, and that's all you get.

you're not sure why sae is risking this, when the media always has their eyes on him, but he insists on bringing you to the airport.

there's a sinking feeling in your gut you can't quite shrug off. but sae is holding your hand, igniting your body aflame, peering over you like there's so much he wants to say.

your anxiety insists that it's nothing good. the words never come, though; just sae hooking a finger around one of the belt loops of your jeans to pull you in.

he tugs one, two, three times more, securing you close to him and then he's cupping your face in his hands, kissing you like it's the last time.

all sweeter, all slower. like if he could pause the time, stay there forever, he might actually do it.

you wonder if he feels it now, the way you felt a year ago. in the airport, not really sure when you'd see each other again.

sae doesn't tell you to call him when your plane lands.

instead, he tells you to send him a message when you're home. you nod only because it feels better not to shatter this now, when he's all affection and the one who loves you most.

it's the first thing you do.

your chest is burdened with a weight that doesn't truly exist until his message comes before yours.

we're done.

you'd think that if you anticipate the pain, it would hurt less. but it doesn't, not for the quick sob that rips itself out of your chest, not for the tears that start falling before you make sense of it.

it's only a two-year run and you're barely twenty-one, but you think you'd be sae's forever.

it's a love hard-earned, hard-learned. a love letting go of you before you even stood a chance.

you tell him you're home, just like promised. right before you delete his number, because if you knew sae at all, he'd have your contacts deleted soon enough—if you're optimistic, maybe he'd do it more for him than you.

and miles away, you're right. while you grieve the love you'd always want, sae makes sure he won't crumble from thinking what if.

this is the choice he made for your sake, for his. he could only hope to god if he could finally keep you close to his chest, that you would still let him.

it's a terrible fate, though.

sae could only come back when the chance no longer exists.

#itoshi sae #sae x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #:: thread of fate #sae angst #blue lock angst #can u guys believe this is like almost 3k words #where did fjat come from.

[grippingbeskar]

unearthed

chapter five - married

warnings: canon typical violence, swearing, mentions of death (?) um idk i think that’s it???

a/n: gah. one of my fav chapters so far hehehehe ALSO PSA YALL— i’m trying to tag some of you in the taglist but your names aren’t popping up, i think this has to do with your settings?? i’m not taking anyone off i’ll retry to tag you ever chapter, but just so ya know!! if there’s like a line through it or it’s white instead of highlighted just have a look, or if i need to be following you just msg me and i will :)

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Just walk up there.

It’s nothing.

Nothing you haven’t done before.

You’ve been in front of thousands— millions of people before. You’ve been in arenas of people screaming and applauding, crowds swarming you as soon as you step out the door. This, being in a moderate sized room where half the eyes on you are stuffed in a helmet, should be easy. Child’s play.

It was nothing.

So why the hell are you feeling so terrified?

You were practically shaking— staring up at the set of stairs in front of you, leading to the Armourer who stood next to the original Forge. The one where every Mandalorian in the golden age would have been brought into the creed. And now, you were going to march up there and add your name to the list. You felt like an imposter, out of place in a flowing dress while you were surrounded by hard plates of armour and dark colours.

The only reason you moved was Bo-Katan behind you, a soft hand on the back of your arm nudging you in the right direction. You were grateful for her kind eyes as she nodded you up to the podium, and then your feet remembered they were attached to your body.

You met Din’s blackened stare, and started to move.

Your dress was loud. A brush of the light yellow fabric along the smooth granite ground sounded deafening. Like an alarm going off, alerting every watchful eye of the Mandalorian ancestors to your betraying presence.

Stars— you were starting to think like them, too.

It was hard not to get caught up in it all. The darkened room, soft whispers through helmets, and as you took the last step up, he was there. Your breath caught in your throat.

He looked the same as always. Of course he did, but it knocked the wind out of you all the same. Once he was in your sight, you didn’t look away. You couldn’t. His presence didn’t allow it. The Armourer said something, and the only reason you acknowledged her was because he did.

“This is The Way.” He says, the words sticking to you like glue when he practically purrs them out like that. This was the way it was now. You— a fake Mandalorian, unable to stand without everyone around you holding you up.

Swallowing hard, you felt Bo-Katan move away, but you were too busy watching Din take three steps to your side. His arm wrapped around yours, sneaking it’s way under the bare skin of your wrist, cold gloves skittering electricity up your arm.

And… oh.

It was like everything just stopped.

You could feel the press of his fingers, light but meaningful, like most of his small touches of you. He was careful not to wander the expanse of exposed skin, which he easily could, even in front of all these people. People who you’d… you’d actually almost forgotten everyone was there.

You stared up at him as if it was your first time seeing a night sky— entranced and all encompassed by the inky black and shining silver, and all the whispering voices faded away until it was just his rough breathing and his gloved hand on your feverish skin.

He didn’t look at you, just at where your own hand was placed, holding for dear life on one of the many plates of his armour. He led you with him over to the half sphere that sat in the middle of the stage. You peered in, seeing the eternal flame fluttering a reliable blue, with the water from the mines floating calmly behind it.

You grab him tighter— either out of reflex or wanting, but he leans into it. Lets you use him to stand, to stay strong in the face of the Armourer. You hope he’s strong enough to keep you standing on his own, because now he’s here, you aren’t sure how you stood without him.

Din was speechless.

He was known as a man of well chosen words to most, so his silence wasn’t unexpected. He was grateful he’d built that reputation, because even if he had to, he wouldn’t of found words that described why he felt frozen at the top of the stairs.

When he’d see you walk in, he felt like time had… stopped. It was stupid of him. He was meant to be in control. He was a King. Standing in front of his people; leading. But… stars, you were the only thing in 20 years that had made him freeze.

You walked so easily, like you were made to be there. It was like that first day, watching you walk through the city like the ground was made to bear your weight. He couldn’t look away. Couldn’t tear his eyes away from your slow, swift steps or the way you gracefully floated across the hard floors. Neither could anyone else. Outside his direct view of you, he could see his people watching. Some eyes were evaluating; the hard faces and helmets looking you up and down like they were scanning the battlefield— precisely and with no mercy.

Others watched like he did. In awe. Some eyes were soft, some whispers drifted their compliments towards her, even though they wouldn’t be heard. That’s how he knew they were genuine. They fell on deaf ears, but they were supposed to.

When you crossed the stage to him, the only thing that snapped his attention away was the loud voice of the Armourer in his ear, telling him to move towards you.

He could tell you were nervous when he got closer— for once, your eyes betrayed you easily. He thought that he was the one that’s hard to read, considering you couldn’t see his face, but you had schooled yours to a point of contention. He knew if you could see him— really see him, you’d read right through him.

But your eyes now, even though they held his, were unsure. He was supposed to just stand next to you, walk with you to where you would touch where the mines water meets the flame, and then you’d be one of them.

But he couldn’t help himself. Your dress, draping over your skin like liquid sunshine, made something angry and foreign to him burn in his chest. He wanted to feel what it was to be that close to someone— someone, he had to tell himself. Anyone. Not just you. It was a lie, but it was one he’s going to have to believe himself.

He was jealous of your dress, gently grazing the skin of your hips, gliding against the softness of your thighs. You were covered, but he knew what was under there. What was in reaching distance for him. Instead, he settled for your arm. As soon as Bo-Katan released you, he took his chance, and for the first time in a while, he followed what his rapid beating heart was telling him to do.

When he reached for you, you answered in earnest. Your hands were nearly clawing at him, holding on to the thickest parts of his armour and pulling him close to you. He let you find purchase on his body— the line of yours tucking tightly into him, and he found himself hoping you held him harder. Dug your nails in so hard that he felt the lines being marked on his skin. He wanted you to need to lean on him— to need him like he found himself needing you up here.

You clung tightly through the whole ordeal, Din not being able to remember much about it other than how warm you were against him, and how close your skin was to his. Just a few inches of armour, feeling so heavy on his body, and he would be able to feel you. He hates that he thinks about that— a million eyes on him, and all he can think about is how soft you would be under the rough calloused palm of his hand.

He doesn’t remember the last time he’s thought of feeling that. Let alone… longed for it.

The longer you held him, the more Din thought it wasn’t real. Maybe you were trying to sell it. As far as the rest of his people knew, you were supposed to be in love. You needed to be seen united and together, leaning on each other. This was just business to you— he knew that. It was to him, too.

It had to be.

The alternative… it was better to be buried than brought to light. Din wouldn’t handle that disappointment well.

The entire thing was a blur from the minute he touched you.

You remember the physical parts. Where he took you to the edge of the Forge, rested your hands on the edge of it. It was cold. Colder than he was, although he’d been pressed up against you so long his armour was as warm to the touch as your skin was. You wondered if he was that cold under that suit.

When you managed to shake that thought away, you remember him guiding your hand towards the flame. It was too hot, and you wanted to pull away for a second. You flinched, but Din kept you on the right path, guiding your hand and covering your reaction, and it ended up looking like a part of the carefully planned show.

The fire nearly licked the inside of your wrist— the water a sharp cold contrast. The Armourer spoke words, and you repeated them, but even they fade; pale in the shadow of the memory of how Din stood above you.

For the first time, he looked every bit the King you’d been told he was. He stood tall, watching as you knelt in front of him, never moving a fucking inch. Then, he reached out, gloved hand intertwining with yours as he led you down and out of the room, disappearing before you could speak again.

He didn’t have to do that.

He does everythin with purpose… and that little touch? That tiny extension of a person under all this? That was… well, it was enough to make you stumble out of the hall like an idiot.

It was mind numbing. How his fingers easily melted into the small gaps between yours, how eager he seemed to take your hand, how quickly he latched onto you and swept you out of the room, like he knew what you needed.

As you shuffled your way down and outside, you wanted to scold yourself. If anything, this was the part of the day you had to have a clear head about. You were left alone for this— it was just you, a short, isolated walkway, and a greenhouse in the middle of nowhere.

You’d asked about it. Why they had something like that out here— in an environment that seemed to harbour life well enough, despite the rumours of the toxic and cursed lands.

“It’s a symbol.” Din had replied, although when you’d asked him he’d just been The Mandalorian, the title feeling a little too official now.

“Of what?” He guided you with a hesitant hand, around the corner where the greenhouse came into view. It was small— modest, for the size of the population now. You could see the twisting vines and array of colours, though, and it was bursting with life.

“Of hope.” Din replied, and you chest tightened. “The Mandalorians that were left, after the Purge, they had nothing. Food reserves were scattered— the people were scattered. When a few banded together, this is was what came of it. It reminded them they were stronger together. Many think this was the place our true rebirth was born.”

The door was closed, but you could still see the colours bursting through it. You tried to look for him through the misted glass, but he was no where to be found. Your heart was racing— you had no idea what to truely expect in here. Would he say anything? Nothing? Would he whip out holochess to pass the time?

What made you the most afraid as you pushed the door open and stepped inside, would be that he was going to do exactly what that man said he would. That he’d share with you something you weren’t sure you wanted him to— something that would make you feel even less deserving than you already did.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to see. It just felt too… too big of a thing to take from him. Despite the small conversations, you’d begun to respect the silent presence of him. And after today, you couldn’t deny the effect he had on you. You didn’t want to take anything from him, not when he’d been so giving to you.

The air felt fresher in here, passing through you in easy breaths, like there was a calming effect inside the four walls. It was bigger than it seemed, or maybe the winding vines and tall bushes that hid you in every corner made it feel more like a maze.

You let your eyes wander, a mirage of purples and blues bursting in between the brightest of green leaves. It seemed to overtake the greenhouse— it was clear there was very little maintenance on the inside, like they’d prefer to just let it run wild. It added to the atmosphere. It was almost a little… romantic.

You swallowed the burning in your throat, and shut your eyes tightly.

“Hello?” You called out, and mentally slapped yourself. It felt stupid. He was in here.

Probably.

Oh, stars.

If he was the one that left you at the altar you think you’d just crawl into a hole and die—

“Around here.” The sound of his voice sends relief rushing through your veins. You followed the sound of it, the two words enough to set you on the right path. As you rounded the corner, you could see him nearly shining, and your chest didn’t feel as tight.

He was there. Looking exactly the same, but somehow completely different in the light of the greenhouse, compared to the dark hue of the Forge room.

The darkness suited him. He was more intimidating that way— a King head to toe. But here, he was more human to you. As far as you knew, he was human, but either way, he was more approachable. Simpler. Here, he was just a man in a pretty suit.

It was very, very pretty in this light.

“I have something to show you.” He says as soon as he sees you. He spits it out like it was a loaded gun in his hand, and the sight of you was enough to make him pull the trigger.

You don’t nod, or shake your head. You just freeze. Staring at him, he turns around, and there’s no words to mince for the feeling you get in your stomach. Fear, maybe, and a little bit of simmering curiosity. You don’t want to see him out of obligation, but for a fleeting second— just for a moment, you know what you want. That you’re curious. You want to see, and you let your eyes flutter—

“AH!” You hear it before you see it.

Two giant ears stick out the sides of the helmet, and then two clawed hands hand below them. When he turns around, you notice how Dins hands hold it gently. Whatever the hell it is.

Or rather, whoever.

All thoughts of the faceless man in front of you flood out for the first time in weeks. When two giant bug eyes whip around and stare at you, ears flapping with the movement, it’s impossible to have any thoughts other than—

“What… what is that?” You say before you stop yourself. “Fuck. Sorry— I didn’t mean that. I just—“

“It’s okay. He’s my—“ The little green thing wiggles around in his arms and then promptly drops to the floor like a sack of potatoes. “Foundling.”

“Oh. Oh!” You watch it stumble around, like it was formed out of proportion. The fast way it’s legs move seem out of alignment with its body, his head tipping forward, almost directing the rest of him, commanding it to follow.

With jagged movements, he ends up at your feet, where he promptly elevates upward, then plops back down again.

“Can he talk?” You say softly, not wanting to scare the little thing as you bend to his level. You look up to Din, who’s already watching you, and see him shake his head. “Well, that’s okay. I talk enough for the both of us.”

A metallic laugh echos from behind the small creature, and he babbles almost in response to it. The sound is infectious, making you grin as he waddles around, his ears tilting him to either side.

You reach out a hand, slowly, and instead of taking it he flies into you, resting in the crook of your arm. This angle gives you a better look, tiny hairs spiralling on his green head, a toothy smile and nearly wrinkled face. You’ve never seen anything like it before.

“He usually doesn’t take well to strangers.” Din says after a while, your body now curled half up on the floor to accomodate the tiny creature. “He likes you.”

“I can be very charming when I want to be.” You squint when you finally look up to him again, soft orange light pouring through the misted windows behind him. “He’s the little thing you were talking about, right? The found…”

“Foundling.”

“Right.” You stare down at it, watching its huge eyes blink at you, and the thing smiles. “Where the hell did you get him? I’ve never even seen… I’ve never seen anything like him.”

“He was a bounty.” You look up at Din, and clearly he can tell you’re horrified. “I didn’t know who, or what he was.”

You watch the little creature, who trusts you far too quickly for something that was clearly hunted by the likes of a Mandalorian. He yawns, speaking in little, incoherent mumbles before his eyes blink slower.

“Who would want to hurt a little guy like this?” His tiny hand wraps around one of your fingers, and you’re pretty sure you’re heart bursts.

“They’re dead.” His words are sharp and sure. It sends a cool shiver down your spine, but it’s definitely not fear.

You look back up at him, standing, and taking a step closer. Din holds your eyes for a moment, like he’s waiting for something.

You know he’s lethal. You aren’t surprised to hear he’s killed— he was a bounty hunter, and is a King. Neither of those titles are won by clean hands, not to mention the Darksaber at his side. If someone crossed him, or tried to take one of the few things he seemed to care about, you anything but surprised to hear they ended up dead.

“He’s sleeping.” You say to break the silence, and your voice drags Dins eyes away from your own.

“Here.” He reaches out, moving so close to you that you can feel the heat of his body. His real body— through the soft parts of him not covered by armour.

He scoops the sleeping form from you, and turns around, and it’s then that you notice the only other thing in the room. A hovering shape that opens on command, only to shut and float behind him once Din places his foundling in there. He’s so gentle with him. A man who just admitted to slaughtering what you can only assumed is dozens of people who got in his way, he’s surprisingly soft when he wants to be.

“Thank you. For letting me meet him.” You say, unsure of what to do next. Your hands go behind your back, eyes tracing the long vines wrapped around the frames of the greenhouse.

“I can never get him to sleep, but when I want him to stay awake, he passes out.” He stands in front of you, and even hidden under ten pounds of armour, he looks as awkward as ever. Your face splits into a grin, laughter softly shattering the careful barrier between you. “I wanted you to meet him. He’s… very important to me.”

“He’s very cute, too.”

“Grogu. That’s his name.” You try it out a few times, letting it familiarise itself in your accent.

“I like it. Nearly as much as Din Djarin. It has a nice ring to it.” You hum, and lean back against one of several wooden tables. It’s full of overgrown plants, some stretching onto the floor and splaying out under your feet.

Your hands dig into the wooden plank behind you, and the easy breathing from before is basically cut off the second he looks up at you again. It goes a little quiet, the whistle of soft wind floating over the top of the thin roof. You can’t stand the waiting around.

“Listen, you don’t… I don’t know exactly what you were planning; but I’ll say whatever you need me to when we leave here. The last thing I want to do is start this partnership off on the wrong foot.” He doesn’t say anything, conveniently finding the floor very interesting all of a sudden. “They told me about what you are meant to… do. And I don’t want you to— no, you don’t have to— can you say something so I can stop talking, please?”

Your heart was racing and you wanted to swallow your tongue if it would get you to stop throwing words around because yeah, maybe you did want him to take off that giant helmet because at the very least you’d be able to see if he was scowling or rolling his eyes or—

Laughing.

He was laughing at you.

Only a little, and you could only tell by the slight rise of his shoulders before he corrects himself and straigtens, but you catch it.

“Are you laughing at me.” You tilt your head, gaping slightly at him.

“No.”

“Asshole.” Rolling your eyes, you take a deep breath. An easier breath.

“It’s okay. We— no one’s coming.” You sigh and nod your head. “You did good today.”

“Seriously?” Now you’re the one who laughs. “I nearly froze the second I got up there! If you weren’t up there I would have fallen on my ass. It was like all those helmets were staring into my soul.”

“It’s an old tradition, but they were happy to see it revived. The Forge is special to my people. You being there— they were glad for it.”

“And this?” You ask tentatively, curiosity nipping at your heels and urging you off the wall a little closer to him. “Is this all an old tradition, too?”

He readjusts with your new closeness, but he doesn’t move away. Instead, he angles towards you, the crib his little baby was in only just visible behind his looming frame. He shrinks you with the long span of his shoulders, and you try not to let your eyes float lower.

“In the Old Ways, Mandalore observed very… reserved marriages.” He shifts again, nearly brushing you, and your heart beats audibly loud. “In most cases, a marriage was simply a well cooked meal and a question with an answer.”

“They just asked to be married. That was it?” He nods.

“Someone would present a gift, or a meal, some who were more intimate than others might try to make it special. But in most cases, nothing would change. They would just be. As they were before, but forever linked by the knowledge they shared. We would never know if anyone was married if they didn’t write it down, or share it with members of their clan. It wasn’t something that was shared in small groups, and no outsiders could ever tell the difference.”

“I’m guessing they weren’t fans of PDA back then, either.” He shrugs, the movement brushing your arm. “So, how’d they get to this whole thing, then?”

“As the Old Way shifted with time, so did their customs. Partners became more common, and they felt there was something missing from their relationship. Something that set them apart from the other members of their clan.” You go to answer, and bite your own tongue again before you can. “Physical touch. Intimacy. Simple touches, a kiss—“

“Partners didn’t kiss in the Old Way?”

“They never removed their helmets. Not to anyone.”

“So how did they…” He stares at you. He was really going to make you finish. “Or they didn’t…?”

“They did. At least, at some point, in some way probably. But mostly, The Way uses foundlings as a foundation for our people. Most Mandalorians’ don’t have any blood relatives in their clans, and if they did, they might not even know.” You make a small ‘huh’ sound. “But when the times shifted, it developed into the marriage system we have now, at least in the Old Way. The newer Mandalorians take on a more universal form of marriage, but the Old Way is still changed. A Mandalorian is to never remove their helmet in front of another living thing.”

“Yeah. I know that part.” You smile and gesture to him, and he stares back. He doesn’t move, his focus deadly and on you.

“When you become a partner of that Mandalorian, you are no longer another being. You become… one being. We remove our helmets, and all differences between us are bared. The things that keep us safe are torn away, and we rebuild to something new. Something connected— forever bound. You never take off your helmet in front of another living thing— but we are no longer seperate. They are a part of you until you take your last breath, and long past it.” You are spellbound. Mesmerised by his words— it’s the only way to describe it. He spoke so passionately about this, and it was hard not to feel the same. It was clear he took this very seriously, and although there was a bad taste in your mouth that you were taking this moment away from him, you couldn’t help but notice his word choice.

We are no longer seperate.

“You don’t have to show me.” You say softly, and he takes another step. He nods. “Ever. I wouldn’t take that from you.”

“This is The Way.” His hands hang by his sides.

“It’s not my way.” The slightest tilt of his head clues that you have his attention. “In my way of life, I don’t do anything I don’t want to do. And this— this is important to you. It should be something you share with someone special. Someone you care for.”

He says nothing, but his hands twitch just slightly, and for a second you think he’s going to go through with it.

“The only time I want you to take your helmet off, is when you want to. You’ve… you’ve been kind to me. Respectful of my wishes, and I want to do the same.”

“I’ve done nothing.”

“And it’s enough.” It was true. He had done nothing to make you feel out of place, or uncomfortable. He’d pushed none of your boundaries, and he’d offered to help secure a lead to search for your parents killers. This… it was the least you could do. “Besides. I’m traditional. If we’re going to do the whole ‘Way’ thing, we can do it the way those old dudes did. Helmet stays on. That’s the Way.”

“This.” He corrects.

“What?”

“This is The Way.”

“Stars. Okay, I’m going to whack you in the head with this olive branch I’m extending if you’re going to correct my grammar.” You raise your eyebrows, crossing your arms in front of you. “So… we’re good with this?”

He nods, and then says your name. His voice now is not wavering. It was full again, a brassy baritone surrounding the small space between you. “I had one more thing to say,”

You nod, and look down to your feet. He’d moved so close his beskar boots were nearly touching your toes. You didn’t move away.

“This is not how I saw myself getting married.”

“Great start.”

“I’m not— I’m saying it’s not what I imagined for myself. I’m not sure if I ever thought I would…” You nod. Wordlessly understanding. “When I agreed to this, I was still unsure. But, I I want you to know I have no doubts, now. Seeing you, hearing what my people think of you… your planet, your family— I will be what you need. I swear it on Mandalore herself. As long as it serves us, we will rule together, as equals.”

“Equals.” You blink at him, enthralled. It’s hard not to be. When someone as stoic as him speaks so passionately about you… it has an effect. Apparently, more of an effect than you were prepared for, because you find yourself having to think about the promises you made him yourself.

That this was just business. Just a professional contract.

“I want to rule with you. I won’t repeat my planets mistakes. I know an ally when I see one. A decent person. A good heart.” He faces you straight on, and it was the second time in the span of a few weeks you’d thought about how easy it would be for him to kiss you. If he was anyone else, you might have done it by now. “I want to do this with you by my side. And I want to be by yours.”

You didn’t have words. For a Queen that had an affinity for charm, to weave a web of intricate patterns of conversation and pull information out of the coolest of characters, Din Djarin left you utterly speechless. You couldn’t stop your hand as it reached for him.

He looked down instantly, watching the bare skin of your hand graze over the pauldron of his armour. The contrast did something to him. You know it. He locked onto it like a trained missile, tracking the light trace of your gentle fingers until they stopped just before his elbow. You shudder a breath, and whisper to him that you want that too.

His hand moves next, a calculated move that holds the wrist of your free arm. The shift means he has to step forward, bringing himself to press against you. Your eyelashes flutter, nearly brushing beskar, as he slowly tilts your arm up and intertwines your fingers. The melt of your hand in his rests between both your heaving chests, and he tries to speak. Whispers your name so lowly you wouldn’t hear it unless it was as deadly quiet as it is.

He raises your interlocked hands up higher, and there’s only one place they would be going. Only one destination that he’s chosen. When your knuckles bump lightly on the sharp edge of his helmet, you bite down your tongue. The cool beskar disappears as he moves your hands just a bit lower and dip them under… and he’s soft there. A soft, giving material hidden under the hardest metal known to the discovered universe, and then he pushes you up.

The whole thing probably takes less than a few seconds, but time nearly slows to a stop with his hands in yours. He was going to show you what equals meant. He was going to show you him. Your chest was tight, body locked in a way that only the parts he was touching were lose and mouldable. You want to… you want to see him. This is something you want, because he wants it.

Your own fingers stretch out, and the helmet moves half an inch upwards.

There’s a sliver of skin. A tanned, cut jaw that you catch, and you shuffle closer, entranced. It’s selfish and dangerous but you want to be closer, want to rip the helmet off him like a kid at christmas, impatient and shaking.

Just as you indulged your most selfish desire in the slightest, leaned forward so you could press the thin wave of your dress closer, an earth-shattering boom came from outside, and the sandy ash of the desert painted the entire world bright orange. You were thrown to the side, glass breaking under your weight as you went flying into the misted glass of the greenhouse. You heard him shout your name; something strong, something to cling to as your head slumped toward the concrete floors.

The last thing you saw was his gloved hands reaching for you before everything went black.

@jillybean0706 @sparechild @stankferrik @doniveatry @local-mr-frog @littlegrungegirlaf @ghoulishsleep @pintsizedsunshine @kit-kat1211 @chvoswxtch @saradika @milo-and-moony @dontletyourchildrenwatchthis @s-u-t @namchai @mandalxrivn @djarinslove @cinnabunsprincess @lilhoebagsstuff @riizea @notsosecretspy @bluegalaxyprime @sarahmichelle5 @babygirlrex0504 @zorosbiggbooba @wakaladjarin @sharin1806 @deanstielneedsaspinoff @alwaysdjarin @heyheyheygaypay @clear-your-mind-and-dream @the-anchored-sailor-girll @placecalledspace @vibin-tings @blockysheep @jreads @my-mind-isnt-intact @jb3ar08 @junielov @misbehavingfirefly @teehee-47 @stargurl28 @puffy-fluff @howhighwepose​ @bbyaj​ @lake-145​ @darkerthanspace​ @fatima-marisa​ @icedcoffeeisbettertbh @killerglyphs​ @booksboysandbaklava @unxwxre @fxzys @bentfdhfunncfcgh @ktheunready @guiltywhore @northernbluess​ @sasakipsposts s @queenofthekill @madammarmalade @ray-rook k @leithatnight @datenshi666 @reginageorje @amatis-gray @vickie5446 @ssweetart42

#the mandalorian x y/n #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x y/n #din djarin fic #din djarin #mando xyou #mando x reader #mando x y/n #pedro pascal #the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian fanfiction

[the-heart-of-a-monster]

HOPPING ON HERE AGAIN FOR ANOTHER SUPER LONG THEORY POST BOYSSSSS

Hello THOAM people! How are you all doing today? Good? Great? Did you just have one of the best days in your entire life and you are certain that nothing could possibly ruin it for you now??

WELL YOU ARE WRONG. /j I AM HERE TO RUIN IT ALL.

that is very much a joke I’m sorry I’m very high on adrenaline right now becAUSE THE NEW COVERS FOR ISSUE 9 JUST DROPPED AS I’M WRITING THIS OUT AND I AM SO EXCITED TO SEE WHAT HAPPENS NEXT AND I HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS. So why don’t I just cut the dilly-dallying and get right on with it?

———

So, first thing I wanna mention is Sonic’s current state and his relationship status. (You may take that as out of context as you want lol) Sonic is currently in an internal state of panic mixed in with exhaustion. MAJOR exhaustion! Bro had to rush to Omega’s aid right after fighting Shadow in a cave full of ice. If that’s not draining as heck then I have no idea what isn’t. And on top of all that, he not only almost killed Omega, but he also knows now that his friends have known what was going on with him for a while! Probably ever since the scene where him, Tails, and Knuckles went out for breakfast and he passed out at the table. (I can’t remember which issue that was atm. I think issue 3…?) In short, Sonic is experiencing a whole rollercoaster of emotions right now, and he isn’t even awake yet! As soon as he wakes up I theorize he’s gonna be asking everyone a lot of questions, and will then ask for elaborations on top of all the answers he receives! I also don’t think he will be as trusting of others anymore, since his friends all knew of his biggest kept secret for a long while now and nobody said or did anything about it!

Now combine that with the guilt he must feel for Omega… The last thing Sonic witnessed before passing out was him going on a rampage and almost killing the robot. He must not feel great about that…! 🫢 And his relationship with Team Dark will be relatively strained as well. I mean, aside from Rouge probably. She loves Omega, but knows the context behind the situation and doesn’t blame Sonic much for what happened, so I think she won’t change much around the Blue Blur. Though his relationship with Shadow was already strained before all that, so… Yeah.

ALRIGHT TIME TO TALK ABOUT CHIP WOOHOOOOOOOO

We all know now that Chip has finally experienced what I’m calling, “✨God Puberty✨”

(Imagine there are pretty pink sparkles floating around the name. Kinda like the classic “You’re watching Disney Channel” thing)

This ✨God Puberty✨ has essentially opened Chip’s eyes, and changes the game completely! Now we not only have a god on our side but also a god who has context! I believe Chip will try and guide Dark Gaia back to its sleeping state to restore balance like they usually do, as explained in the comic, but the attempt will backfire seeing as Dark Gaia was awoken prematurely by Dr. Eggman. (More on him in a second) Chip will keep trying, because they’re a big floofy funny god that just wants food and just went through ✨God Puberty✨ so they’ll naturally wanna keep this going at a peaceful rate. Because despite all of his power, Chip is still Chip. Just a smol bitty guy who wants ice cream. With the addition of being a god. Sonic will then of course have to step in, leading to him getting his Gaia energy taken away and him being free of this curse, and then the events of the game finale play out as normal. Probably. It’s getting late now and I’m getting tired so my brain energy is wavering so idk exactly if that’s what will happen but it’s some food for thought I suppose.

NOW WE CAN FINALLY TALK ABOUT EGGMAN OH MY GOSH YES LET’S TALK ABOUT THE PATHETIC EGG-SHAPED SCIENTIST THAT WE CALL A MAN MADE OUT OF EGGS

To keep this short and simple, I’ll discuss Eggman within the context we have based solely on the new covers alone. Meaning the only speculation I’ll be doing is based off of those and the last few times we’ve seen the guy in the comic. Which actually was… A long time ago, actually. If I’m remembering correctly, that is. I could be wrong. ANYWHIZZLE LEMME STOP JABBERING AND LET’S GET ON WITH THE THEORIZING-

So the first cover shows a new, most likely final form of Sonic’s, encasing Eggman in a cracked eggshell while using his claws. Or more specifically, there is Eggman, acting as an egg yolk, sitting in a puddle of egg whites with the shell on each side of him, while Sonic’s Gaia claws slowly close in on him in the back. Sonic is staring at him menacingly, his anger and frustration reaching a boiling point due to all the stress he’s most likely experiencing combined with the Dark Gaia energy within him. This cover makes me assume that this issue is gonna act as the final battle against Eggman, a final “Screw you!” To the fat man in red. Obviously, Eggy ain’t going down without a fight, as shown in the next cover, but we’ll get to that in a minute.

The first cover suggests that Eggman is gonna be the main role of the issue, and that he’s gonna get his ass kicked. Sonic is gonna confront him, fully transform into his final Werehog form due to anger and stress, and we’ll then move onto the next issue probably. Again, I’m getting tired so this theory is getting pretty sloppy.

Now onto cover numero dos! I love this cover honestly, and it’s literally only because Knuckles and Tails are seen defending a transforming Sonic from Eggman. They are literally using themselves as like. A meat shield. Normally I’d be like “Oh no what happened????” But right now all I can think is “Omg ✨Brothers✨ 🤩”

———

AGAIN IM GETTING VERY TIRED NOW SO I WILL UNFORTUNATELY END THIS HERE AND WILL NOW GO BRUSH MY TEETH BUT HOPEFULLY I WILL REMEMBER TO COME BACK AND ELABORATE TOMORROW IF I HAVE THE TIME. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING, IT MEANS A TON THAT YOU TOOK THE TIME OUT OF THE DAY TO DO THAT.

oki ima go sleeb now thank you bai

The art for the covers was great btw I just wanted to let you know it’s absolutely wonderful I could look at it all day

you're gonna love what's gonna happent his issue, i can tell!!!!!!

only um. i think you were wayyy too tired so you confused sonic with metal sonic. either that ur ur just very polite to metals insistance that he is the real sonic.

#fan lore #clover-the-awesomest #long post #text heavy #fan theories

[dabisqueen]

Okay here goes:

Rockstar!Dabi to me is a Gremlin. Arrogant and playful, and cannot keep his hands to himself. And finds it funny.

You’ll constantly find him slipping his hand down your pants, not even doing anything sometimes just wanting to be an ass. He will of course get a feel before he pulls back, but if he’s in a mood, his hands will wander a little more until you yelp and push him away.

You scolding him gets him so riled up, he loves it. Idk what most people think but I see Dabi, especially a rockstar rendition of him, as a total switch. He’s happy to take control and he’s damn good at it, but sometimes it gets him going to think of you bossing him around and scolding him in the bedroom.

If you comment on his outfit, it’s all he wears for the next week. Doesn’t matter what you say. “That’s hideous.” “That’s way too lewd for a concert, Dabi!” “You’re going to get yourself kicked out of the concert!” The fact that you consider it worthy of comment fuels his ego. Not to mention he can see it in your eyes that you love it, regardless of his words.

Dabi cannot bring himself to admit this, but you were his first. He’s a horny impish Rockstar with countless fans ready to fuck him at the simplest request, but he never really put sex very high on his priority list. That is until you, whoever you were when you met him (my favorite thought is part of his security, that way you’re always around him) gave him the biggest boner he’s ever had, and then refused his advances. He saw a challenge in you, one that would be worthy of giving up his virginity too.

Speaking of, once you finally slept with him, he only became more insufferable (but you love it).

I have more floating in my head but these are the ones I was able to word right :)

Omg, this is so HOT!!!! This fits right into my Rockstar Dabi world! Him being a gremlin? Yep. An annoying but hot one? Yep.

These ideas are so good, I cannot add anything else to that. It's perfection.

Thank you so much and to all my followers: enjoy!

💙💙💙💙💙💙

#rockstar dabi #rockstar!dabi #mha au #bnha au #queen answers #dabi #bnha dabi #mha dabi #dabi my hero academia

[in-a-bucket]

Whit character analysis because this dude makes my brain go brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

Uh spoilers for all of drdt i guess? Idk better safe then sorry

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Ok, so it probably wouldn’t take much scrolling through my tumblr blog to figure out who my favorite despair time character is, can you blame me tho? I’ve always had a lot of thoughts about Whit floating around in my brain ever since I’ve gotten into drdt, but the amount of thoughts has exponentially increased since ch 2 part 1 finished a few days ago. I think we can all agree there’s something odd about Whit, The first time I really noticed it was right after Min’s execution. It was super gresome, probably one of the hardest to watch I’ve ever seen both in canon dr and fangans. This execution had Veronika of all people shook to their core, but Whit...

Uh, you are aware she literally got torn apart by wolves, right Whit? Hu even kinda calls him out on his comment immediately after this. Most people when they see a person die in front of them, they usually react with horror, fear, anger, sadness, you get the gist, but here Whit seems, mildly annoyed? I don’t really think that’s the best way to describe his reaction but either way, it’s too underwhelming for watching someone die right in front of you, especially in such a horrible way as Min’s execution was.

Ok then, does this mean Whit is some unfeeling asshole or something, well no, because earlier in this same trial he says this,

I mean this whole entire section shows that Whit isn’t some heartless monster, if he was just doing this for the sake of making sure they didn’t vote for the wrong person he didn’t have to add in stuff like this.

Ok so what’s his deal then, well remember how I said although chapter one got the brainworms started, but chapter 2 increased them exponentially. Well in chapter 2 it starts to become a lot more prevalent how odd Whit acts when it comes to death and the killing game as a whole.

He does this...

Making a joke about Min’s horrific death, having that kind of reaction to seeing Arei’s dead body, it’s not normal, at all if we take into consideration everything we’ve discussed so far, it just doesn’t make sense, especially cause he has moments like this,

Like the way I see this, he just seems to be really understanding of other people, and their feelings and circumstances, so it just seems super odd that he doesn’t really take death or the killing game itself for the matter all that seriously.

So basically, Whit’s a walking contradiction, why exactly is he like this? Well I believe it has to do with his secret.

His secret is worded exactly like this: “Your mother is dead, you always omit that truth”

I always found the way his secret was worded to be interesting, it’s extremely vague. Arturo’s secret also involves a dead family member, but that one specifies that the cause of death was suicide and that Arturo himself was involved somehow, now it’s highly likely this was worded in a way to make Arturo look as bad as possible, so what does this have to do with Whit’s secret? Well it’s a bit odd, his secret doesn’t make any mention of how or when his mom died, and the only way Whit is brought up is that he hides that truth, but it doesn’t imply that he was responsible in any way. It’s interesting that some secrets are more vague than others.

There’s also some other stuff you could analyze from it. Take the first part of Charles’s secret, “your older brother died” vs. “your mother is dead”, when you look at those two statements, don’t they mean the same thing? Why word them differently if they basically mean they same thing. Well Charles’s is worded in the past tense whereas Whit’s is worded in the present tense, why is that? Although this is more my personal opinion, Whit’s feels more like and intense statement, a fact that can not be ignored, this is what’s real here and now, which ties in to the latter part of Whit’s secret. He omits the truth, he denies it, but he can’t run away from it now that’s there written on paper, there for everyone to see.

So what does this all have to do with Whit’s contradictory behavior. Well I think it’s highly likely that Whit witnessed his mom’s death, whether it was an accident, a suicide, a murder or something else, he saw it all and, to put it bluntly, it broke him. He simply couldn’t handle the idea that his mom, someone he clearly loved a lot and cared about, as evidenced by what he said in chapter 1 with Teruko and Charles, was suddenly not there anymore. This was probably the absolute worse case scenario in Whit’s mind, and what do you do with a bad situation, you make it better of course! And that’s exactly what Whit did, even though his mom was dead he convinced himself that everything was completely fine in order to cope. If he remembers all of the good things about her, then she’s basically still here, and that means everything is fine, right? 

Now I’m gonna take a shot in the dark and guess that Whit’s mom probably died around time Whit was in middle school (so like 13 or 14 yrs old), I don’t really think she died when he was like elementary school age, and based on the way Whit acts in the prologue it wasn’t like super recent either. Considering he is able to identify his own secret during the ch 2 trial, his mom didn’t die with in the years that got erased from the students. Now middle school up till freshman year of college is plenty of time to develop a terrible coping mechanism, especially because it seems to be implied that was a pretty lonely guy, his dad worked overseas a lot and according to his character page, he doesn’t have any luck with love either, it’s possible he did have friends growing up but maybe his relationship with them fell apart after his mom died. Either way, it’s inevitable something like that would fester without a good support system.

Now several years later, Whit is thrust into this killing game and he is faced with people dying in front of him again, so he does what he knows best, pretends that everything is completely fine and that they’re all gonna get out of this somehow. so he tries to focus on the positives and tries to make a generally more positive atmosphere by cracking jokes every chance he gets, since dealing with the positives is way easier than dealing with the negatives. Thus stuff like this happens,

No it’s not alright Whit there is a dead body in front of you.

His hidden quote fits with this idea too, “We tend to idolize the dead”. It’s an accurate statement in real life, when people die we try to remember the good things about them from when they were alive. This is what Whit does, just to an unhealthy extreme.

There’s even this line from the FTEs which technically aren’t canon, but it still gives you a pretty good idea of Whit’s thinking process

Ya know shove all of your negative emotions down and away and only focus on the positive ones, this will totally not backfire in any way.

It also makes sense why he has the talent he has, to enjoy making other people happy with fulfilling relationships as a way to distract himself from his own pain.

So, where exactly does Whit go from here as a character? Well first of all I’m like 99% sure he’ll survive chapter 2, there’s evidence that shows he’s unlikely to be the killer and from a writing standpoint, if Whit were to be killed off now, then the only purposes he would’ve served in the story was comic relief and to give Charles some character development, so basically it’d be a waste to kill him off in chapter 2. I will say this though, if both Charles and Whit are still alive by chapter 6 that is a huge red flag and that probably means Whit’s the MM, I think the most likely out come is one or the other dies. I used to be super confident on Charles living and Whit dying but honestly, Charles is developing faster than I thought he would, so it could go either way. But I get the feeling the the peak of their arc will happen in chapter 4 (maybe 3, but I feel more confident about 4).

Under the assumption I made previously, chapter 3 happens as normal (whatever that is lol), but once ch 3 ends and ch 4 starts a certain someone has noticed that Whit is the only person who has yet to crack in any way, shape or form. So motive or no, Veronika starts to craft a plan, in order to make this killing game as fun as possible and to finally break her stubborn classmate. I could see this going one of two ways. Either Veronika kills Charles and pins the crime on Whit or she creates an elaborate trap for Whit to accidentally set off killing her or one of the other students. Personally I prefer option (and not just because Whit get’s to live), but because it allows for his character development to be explored in later chapters. Basically once the body is discovered, you can tell Whit is barely holding it together and then like midway through the trial he finally starts to crack. Then in like the aftermath of the trial it asl comes crashing down for him, everything that he forced himself to believe to make life easier he can no longer believe and its just ajkldlkjdljdalkfhlkfahafkkdhfsklfslkhfsakhj.

Anyway I’m probably gonna post this, go to bed, and wake up tomorrow and realize there’s more I want to add but that’s life I guess. I’ll probably end up making more whit posts anyways once the people I talk to discord start get my brain going.

This probably sucks but idc I have so much Whit brainrot you people have no idea.

#drdt #drdt spoilers #danganronpa: despair time #whit young

[ocs-by-kingspade]

Hello fantastic fandom fellows!

Just an update on my general life I suppose. I am a writer, if you didn't already know and I have many, many WIPs that I can't wait to be completed...

Unfortunately I am cursed with the blessing of ADHD, however I have long since learned my lesson and no longer post works that I have not completed... however that means that currently, none of my works are posted.

I will (eventually) post my stories on our wonderful AO3 for your consumption... but I'm hoping a little hype will force my brain into submission

Thusly, we come to the purpose of this post. To inform y'all about my different works so y'all can ask questions or just be hyped for my future works or whatevs. This, a short listing of fandoms and a brief description of each work.

A warning, most don't have names yet, but I'm working on it!

Good Omens:

A post season 2 story on stopping the Second Coming and remembering the past - M, with mpreg, true forms, Heaven bashing, and torture themes

A Love I Can't Remember - Crowley still feels hunted by their old bosses, but is this paranoia or something more? - M, with flashbacks, PTSD, really fucking powerful Crowley, and some Eldritch Horror themes

BNHA

Hisashi Midoriya is Toshinori Yagi. He tries to balance hero work with secrets and keeping his family safe. - As of yet unrated, Midoriya adults adopted Aizawa, Aizawa/Yamada, so many secrets and lies

All Might is hero by day, Villain by night who falls in love with a certain night nurse - M, AFO is Yagi's Dad, explicit torture and BDSM scenes, Toshinori/Inko

Surprise! You are Izuku's father, Toshinori! - T (probably to go up, I'm mean to the characters I'm sorry), Trans Toshinori, Trans Izuku, Inko was a Vigilante, Adopted Aizawa and Bakugo, Aizawa/Yamada, Very rough childhoods for our favorite parents

All Might is Evil, take 2. Runs evil company. Falls for a Vigilante - M, Toshinko (can you tell I'm a fan), evilnesses and idk I haven't worked as much on this one and I'm not as good as writing bad guys it gives me anxiety.

Inuyasha

Black Horse and a Cherry Tree - Sesshomaru raises Inuyasha's twin and discovers how to love a human - M for spicy scenes, major character death, battle scenes, birth scenes, they are all adults calm tf down! Sesshomaru/Rin, not apologizing (there will be a part two in modern day Japan if I EVER FINISH THIS, IVE BEEN WORKING ON IT FOR A DECADE)

HP

Riddle Me This, Riddle Me Black - Marauders Era, an OC forms friendship with the strangest people and changes the fate of the Wizarding World- M, child abuse, torture, trying to figure out Right from Wrong, vampires

Snape/James/Lily, Snape does his best for his family after his husband and wife die - M, child abuse, grief, mentions of alcoholism, secret relationship, trying to keep the Problem Child from killing himself is really fucking hard

So that brings us around. These are just the ones that I have actively started in some form or fashion. I have a Zutaraang that floats in my head too but have never committed anything to digital paper yet, so don't be afraid to ask about your favorite fandom!

#good omens #fandom post #atla #ineffable husbands #fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic writing #harry potter #severitus #james x lily x severus #hp oc #inuyasha #sessrin #Sesshomaru/Rin #villain all might #all might #all might x inko #all smite #trans all might #trans izuku #big brother bakugou #brozawa #bnha #mha #good omens au #crowley good omens #good omens true forms #good omens season 2 #polls #severus snape

[allgoldenelite]

idk if this makes any sense, but.

so recently, i've seen the following interpretation floating around: whenever kenny talks about don being family in his promo and stuff, and whenever he makes it clear that BCC crossed a line now because they hurt somebody who can never reasonably consent to what the elite is used to, he is in reality not talking about don at all, or at least, the work is commenting on kenny lying or using don as a sort of mental scapegoat for the people he actually cares about [insert names here, in this case from most people i have seen it being hangman], because this is juxtaposed with kenny accepting the screwdriver from matt (who says "for hangman?").

and it made me think.

because a) there's precedent for this: especially as a heel (right now i'd say the elite are in the process of being faces again), kenny has a tendency to avoid (especially the names of) people close to him, or transpose the pain or caring he associates with those people onto something else (championships, matches, other responsibilities). everyone remembers "AJ styles, prince devitt, and who?" but there are a couple of other examples. notably, as the collector, he put so much emphasis on him and don; it was always "me and don, we are family", "don this, don that", instead of mentioning or talking what was really going on (his tensions with the bucks). later this would even spill onto other characters (saying that him and the good brothers make a really good trio/team, which is just explicit enough to pass as commentary on kenny's avoidance of the bucks at that point).

and b) i feel almost like if this were another medium, like a theater play or a book, there could very reasonably be a twist that don isn't real. that his existence is a product of kenny's psyche as he tries to avoid confronting reality (sort of like some apparitions in silent hill). that by focusing so much on don, it's easier for kenny to blend out the things that would cause him to otherwise shatter into a million pieces. he always styled himself as an "unstoppable android", and a machine needs a version of reality parsed through its OS that allows it to march on in spite of how frightening the actual happenings behind the veneer of said OS are. in a way, it could be said that don is kenny's OS rn. don is still his own person who does things kenny wouldn't do or doesn't do things he would do, but it would imo fit with kenny's arcs that often thematically feature isolation and self-hatred, to "invent" a companion who has totally always been your bestest buddy since you were 6 years old and played the invisible strings to help you be where you are now.

don entered the stage as a true character in the elite's story around the jericho feud back in new japan, but it wasn't until the collector that he was heavily cemented by kenny as an important existence, someone whom he had secretly plotted with "for years" in order to orchestrate his belt-hunting run (among other things), and by then he began interacting with other characters in way that deviated from our then current understanding of kenny's morals and ideas, despite how close the two claimed to be. i've written before about how to me, the collector is a paradoxical being and the final manifestation of all the ugly and dark parts inside kenny that he couldn't exorcise, "much, much worse" than the cleaner could ever be. think if the cleaner is a juvenile street thug, the collector is the boss in his penthouse making a fortune off of people's suffering.

but, it's important to remember that kenny isn't fundamentally evil. he has gone on record in character to state that it was his own fear of confronting his darker feelings about ibushi that pushed him towards joining bullet club and turning into the "pitch-black devil" he became. heartbreak makes a villain, etc. it's not that boilerplate simple, humans are complicated beings even (especially) in wrestling, and that is also true for kenny's story in AEW, which started to take a turn for the worse as soon as he started tagging with hangman. the collector is paradoxical because he both wants to and doesn't want to exist, because he thinks the things he's doing are necessary and cruel at the same time, because he desires what he fears and fears what he desires (finding true fulfillment in tagging, hangman becoming champion, corrupting the bucks, the list goes on). it would make sense to me if such a being required a mental shield to focus on and withstand the pressure of the two sides of the paradox constantly pulling at your psyche, threatening to destroy it. as it fits within his own machinations, don is the perfect candidate for that.

now, this isn't to say i think kenny is going to turn heel again because there is an increased emphasis on him and don "being family" again. it's just a piece of the text that i find interesting to analyze. even if kenny doesn't turn, in order to inflict upon BCC the brutality that they inflict on people you care about, you have to go to some pretty dark places. and every time kenny does go to such places, the past has shown that he pushes others away so that his true feelings—kindness, compassion, an arrogance that's more a beautiful sibling of pride than an ugly child of hurt—do not get in the way. it just depends on how he emerges on the other side once said brutality is inflicted.

either way, i have to imagine that under normal circumstances, when/if (?) the thing happens that finally tips the bucket over and causes kenny to shake off all that hair dye from 6 years ago and see don for the fucked up manipulator of himself and his friends that he is, it's going to deal a pretty heavy blow to him. it's not too dissimilar to an abusive relationship: from the outside it's so easy to see and go "oh this guy is a grade a asshole, they need to dump him already", but when you're in it, it's everything but easy.

i say normal circumstances because i have a feeling that the way this is actually going to be resolved in the work is going to involve some kind of hook that if not fully, at least partially avoids such shattering of the mind. that could be a number of things: the "betrayal" (really that's been going on for years, but see above) being so brutal and surprising that kenny's mind snaps right from heartbroken into justified, or the situation involving a bright light that makes it much easier to bear. i'll leave it up to you to decide who or what that's gonna be.

thanks for coming to my ted talk ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#/joesays #/text #/long #im sorry this is what it's like to be severely mentally ill and a wrestling fan #this is unrefined af just take it #kenny omega #don callis #rasslin #somehow we're all wanda #big love to mikey for helping me brainstorm this

[babyjakes]

and you know, and so do i.

〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉

summary | andy calls you in for office hours, just as he’s done almost every week of the semester. you both know your grade in his class is the least of the worries that he hopes to address.

pairing | professor!andy barber x student!reader

warnings | ed themes mentioned: implied restrictive subtype, no real symptom talk/mostly just body experience descriptions (weak, dizzy, spaced out, confused), resistance to help andisolation, suggestive that reader is severely ill. angst; this is not a fic with a happy ending, this is not a fic headed in a happy direction. soft!very concerned!andy.

word count | 1,179

an | hi friends. this is one of those fics that i don’t really know how to write an introduction for. i think this was mostly written as a way for me to support myself when i wasn’t getting the support i needed. please heed all the warnings given; the topic of ed’s is very fragile, i know, and i want you all to be safe and make choices that’ll be healthiest for you. i wrote this originally after rediscovering a song i used to listen to a lot back in high school when i was in the worst of my anorexia; listening to it again after so long brought back a lot of memories, one in particular of one of the last times i was brought into the er. i was deteriorating heavily and i remember just lying there and staring at the ceiling, listening to this song and feeling like i was back at my childhood home, sitting by the open windows listening to the neighbors’ kids playing outside. idk, it’s a very vivid memory for me. here’s a link to the song (getting lighter, goldmund) for anyone who’s interested.

Sitting in your regular brown armchair, the worn vintage-patterned fabric barely bending beneath your shallow frame, your eyelids droop like flower petals heavy with rain; you could not focus on the man in front of you if your life depended on it.

Standing with his back to you, broad shoulders filling out the deep navy seams of his university sweatshirt, Professor Barber tends to the whistling kettle on the stove, carefully killing the heat as he asks his question again, “Y/n, are you sure you wouldn’t like a cup of tea?”

Eyes lazily resting on some point just beyond the tip of your own nose, you hum some sort of confirmation or agreement, though it isn’t enough for him to understand until he turns around briefly to look at you, his gaze softening in worry as he watches you watch… nothing. Pouring himself a mug, he adds a tea bag and joins you in taking a seat, picking his usual spot on the green sofa across the narrow office from you. Setting his drink down on the coffee table beside him, the man sets his hands in his lap, an expectant silence falling over the room as he looks you over carefully.

And you, are entirely somewhere else. Chapped bottom lip parted ever so slightly from the top, you draw in a shaky breath as something warm hits your cheek; you think it could be a tear before you realize the window is open right beside you, a gentle ray of sun shining in and landing just below your eyes. Closing them for a moment, you stop to listen, the distant sounds of blowing grass and voices from afar filling your chest with heaviness. The whole world feels so light, like you could step right off the ground and float up into the sky on the breeze. For a moment, just a moment, you begin to forget where you are. Everything sounds and smells like home; you wonder if the faint smell of tea leaves in the air is coming from your mother’s favorite olive-green mug.

Voice trembling, you manage to say, “It’s beautiful out.”

“It is,” Andy’s soft voice agrees through the darkness. Andy, he had told you to call him that. Sometime, weeks ago. You never knew why he kept calling you in to see him every Thursday afternoon, and he never offered any reason, and yet- you continued to show up, week after week. Or maybe, maybe you did know. Maybe you do. Maybe even, you know, that he knows.

“It feels like summer,” you admit, your own voice barely recognizable to you as you do your best to fight back tears that have for some reason built up; maybe it was the tenderness of his voice. Maybe it’s the familiar smell of the spring air. You realize that you don’t want to be here; this is a frightening place for you, sitting in the warmth of the early May sun. Your hands squeeze the armrests of the chair as you do your best to remind yourself of your surroundings, but you can’t help but feel like maybe you’ve fallen asleep; maybe you’re dreaming of home. Maybe you’ll never see home again.

“Do you like the summertime, y/n?” Andy asks, watching patiently as you continue to sit with your eyes fully closed, nostrils flaring slightly as you struggle to take in a breath that feels big enough.

Head still heavy with thought, you mumble an, “I don’t know.” I’d like to live to see another one, you think to yourself, but as always, the words just can’t seem to find their way past your lips.

Straightening himself a bit in his seat, Andy nods though you can’t see him, clearing his throat briefly before saying your name once more, “Y/n.” Your eyes open, gaze landing on the man as he sits just a handful of feet away from you, and the look on his face is something you’re not ready for; it’s full of concern. You can’t tell if that’s everything you’ve ever wanted, or everything you’ve been trying to avoid. “Do you know why I assign you here, every week?”

Breaking away from his softened gaze, you try to shrug off the question. “I am barely passing your course,” you admit.

Andy nods, though you somehow already know that’s not where he’s headed. “Of course. But you know that’s not why I ask you to come. That’s not why you do come, is it?”

Heaviness sinks into the tips of your fingers as you blink at his question; part of you knows there’s no point in answering. Though still, you find yourself confirming his guess, “No, it’s not.”

He hums with a nod, repeating your name once more. “Y/n…”

“I can stop coming,” you say quietly, everything about you: your voice, your body, your presence- suddenly feeling incredibly and dangerously small as your head drops in shame. “I-I can stop. I won’t bother you anymore.”

Shaking his head, Andy’s tone has softened as he tells you, “I hope you won’t stop. I hope you keep coming- I hope you’ll talk to me, y/n. I hope one of these days, one of these afternoons, you finally will.”

Swallowing down a lump in your throat, you can’t bring yourself to look at him again. You know you should get up, you should walk out before this can go any further, but there’s something too heavy about the sunlight on your face, the thick balminess of the air that keeps you trapped in your seat as you blink back more tears. You are stuck; there is no way out for you. And you think that you’ve probably been that way for a long, long time.

“I don’t want to talk,” though you’re expecting your voice to be full of bitterness, you’re surprised to find it’s more than anything else, just weak. Weary.

“I’m sure you don’t,” Andy acknowledges understandingly. “But don’t you think you should?”

“I-I can’t,” you say, eyes struggling up to meet his waiting gaze. “I just… I can’t.”

Smiling gently in defeat, Andy nods. “Well, I can’t force you, and I wouldn’t want to. But I will keep inviting you back, just in case,” he tells you.

As he shifts directions in the conversation, beginning to go on about something that happened the other day in class, the heaviness in your chest rots and blisters into a burning pain. Eyes clouding over as the man’s voice floats up and away, out of reach for your ears, something collapses a little inside you. Pressing your palms into the wood of the chair’s frame, you realize this’ll be the last time you sit here in this spot; next week when youre invitation arrives, you’ll ignore it. You have to.

Eyes drawing to a close once more, you inhale deeply, savoring the sounds of the world through the window as they grace your ears. You’re not coming back, and you won’t hear them again. And a part of you knows you won’t make it home for the summer.

#eun's writing #and you know and so do i #andy barber #andy barber fanfiction #defending jacob #defending jacob fanfiction #andy barber one shot #andy barber imagine #andy barber blurb #andy barber drabble #andy barber headcanon #andy barber x reader #andy barber x y/n #andy barber angst #hurt/comfort

[the-power-of-stuff]

yes you GET it!!!!

i love the idea of live actions sokka’s blatant sexism being almost triggered. it comes out when he’s agitated and has been shown up which i think would translate better to live action than just straight up jokes like in the cartoon. i think we’re in an age where misogynistic remarks are made more out of anger than in old timey jokes

“the pride she feels about being a guardian for her village ends up damaging his pride” completely!!! not only do we get to see her as the badass warrior that she very obviously is, but her drive beliefs and motivations behind what she does and who she is are so clearly laid out.

my biggest gripe with the episode was definitely the lack of buildup for sure. and the kiss. not that sukka were ever really slow burn, but that constant distance where they would meet intermittently and have those intimate moments made it feel like they were

maybe that’s something that can be not so much rectified in the next season, but worked on? because if their first kiss came about so quickly, i feel like the conflict of them next time they’re together should be greater than sokka’s overprotectiveness. or maybe it should be played up more - which i guess it will be as their whole arc that episode was condensed to twenty minutes. idk!!!!

ooo i like your predictions!! i feel like if they go with a year or so time jump then maybe it’ll go more similarly for them in s2? sure, they kissed when they last saw each other, but there’s been some time since then.

sokka’s been involved with yue, and i’d like to think amidst her travels with the kyoshi warriors suki has had time for a fling or two herself. they were each others first kiss, their first encounter with someone from the opposite sex their age, and while it clearly meant something to them, they were younger.

idk though, that’s me trying to rationalise their first kiss being so early. i’ve been interpreting their kiss as yes, definitely a romantic one, but also as a thank you from suki for, like she said, showing her the world. for being that last big push towards her leaving.

i’m rambling now so sorry for another long ask!! but on a slightly different note, i’ve seen some float around the idea of the suki and the kyoshi warriors having their own sort of mini subplot in s2 to do with the dai li.

i’m not 100% sold on this idea yet, but i thought it would be an interesting angle to have two groups/organisations that kyoshi founded at conflict. if done right it could just alter where the kyoshi warriors find appa without changing much else.

here’s the link that i saw posted on the atlatv sub - https://knightedgemedia.com/2024/02/suki-deserves-her-own-original-subplot-in-netflixs-avatar-the-last-airbender-season-2/

anyway thank you for such a detailed response! i love your blog so much and always appreciate how much detail you go into even answering lil old asks like mine <3<3

and i’d definitely be interested in reading a reimagining of the ep from you👀👀 no pressure tho!!!

Ooh, thank you for sharing that Suki theory! I do love the potential for building out more of the Kyoshi Warriors' storyline and explaining what they got up to between leaving the ferry station and discovering Appa. In the episode where they're crossing the Serpent's Pass, Suki mentions that she's heard the Fire Nation is working on something on the other side of the lake that they don't want anyone to know about, so clearly she's privy to some gossip at her ferry job. I always thought it would be neat if she and the Warriors decided to leave the ferry station to investigate, and that's how they ended up in the forest where they found Appa. But the idea of tying the Kyoshi Warrior's adventures into the Dai Li's conspiracies could be a cool way to pull Suki more deeply into the main story.

I wrote into a fic a while ago that Suki and the other Kyoshi Warriors got fed up with the bureaucracy of the ferry station and how trying to "maintain order" actually ends up being harmful to people (e.g., the lady in charge would rather force a pregnant woman to walk across a deadly pass than help her find her stolen property or otherwise get her onto the ferry), and it ends up being sort of eye-opening for them that the Fire Nation aren't the only ones doing harm in this war. (And in my story, that's ultimately why the Warriors end up leaving.) I think it could be interesting for the LA to delve more into this aspect of how the Earth Kingdom is dealing with the war, and it seems like the kind of thing that could fit with the darker tone they want the series to take. But however they end up doing it, I'd love to see them develop more of an explanation for why the Warriors are where they are when the find Appa!

Also I had a lot of fun thinking about a different take on the second episode of the LA. Got me through a dentist appointment lollll... Throwing my thoughts under the cut!

Okay, I’m totally stealing your idea about Sokka’s latent sexism coming out when he's provoked, cuz I just think 1) it makes sense as a defense mechanism for a guy who's feeling insecure in himself, and 2) it raises the stakes for him and Suki. XD

So! We keep “you’re trespassing on sacred ground!” and Suki being the one to tackle Sokka. I would’ve liked to have seen a little bit more of an action sequence during the ambush, so we (and Sokka) get a real taste of the Kyoshi Warriors’ skill. 

The Kyoshi statue glows, they have the village hall meeting. Sokka’s eyeing Suki the whole time with grudging interest. Suki notices and looks at him narrow-eyed, tilting her chin up at him and then looking away abruptly. She’s not sure how she feels about him yet.

Afterwards they walk, and Sokka does his whole, “I’m my village’s protector, too,” thing, to which Suki responds, “I don’t see how that could be true if you’re here.” Sokka stumbles, says something like, “Yeah, I mean, good point, it’s just…this was more important.” And then Suki gets heated (what could be more important than protecting your people??) and gives the Kyoshi Warrior spiel. 

That evening, Sokka rants to Katara and Aang about it. Katara’s like, “Sokka, it doesn’t matter, just let it go,” and Sokka’s all, “It does matter! Just because we’re here with Aang doesn’t mean our village isn’t safe! I worked hard to protect us all those years and— and anyway, helping Aang helps the village!” But inside he’s also thinking, “Have I let my people down? Or did they not need me that badly in the first place?”

The next day, Sokka storms over to the dojo, sees the Warriors practicing, and scoffs. “Fans? That’s your weapon?” and Suki’s like, “Excuse me?” Sokka goes, “At least I trained with real weapons—” “Real weapons, huh? Fine, let’s see it, then.” Sokka’s a little taken aback but he pulls out his club, they get into a stance, Sokka attacks, and Suki easily disarms him with her fans. “Well, Southern Water Tribe warriors are more known for hand-to-hand combat—” Suki immediately puts her fans away and gets into another stance. Sokka grits his teeth and attacks again, but Suki tackles him much like she did at the beginning of the episode. She’s hovering over him and he looks at her and his look of shock becomes a little sad. “I’m a bit out of practice,” he says, and Suki straightens, crosses her arms, and says snarkily, “Feel free to come back when you’re better prepared.”

Later, he comes back and Suki’s like, “Ready for a rematch?” but he gets on his knees and asks to be trained. Suki’s very surprised and just stares at him for a while. He apologizes. “Truthfully, there isn’t much need for warriors in my village…” And this strikes a chord with Suki because it’s not like there’s much need for warriors in her village, either (seeing as how they've kept themselves out of the war)… So she agrees to train him. But she says, “If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it right,” and pulls out a spare uniform.

After Sokka gets dressed he looks at Suki and asks, “Face, too?” “Of course.” And he tells her—but sincerely; not bragging, this time—that he actually knows about putting on facepaint because of the SWT warrior paint. And this time when Suki asks him to demonstrate, she's also being sincere. He starts putting on the Kyoshi Warrior paint, and she helps him, and oops! romantic tension.

They train. Suki is strict but there’s still a lot of closeness and touching. We get to see Sokka use the fans. We get to see Sokka almost best Suki before she gets over her surprise thirst and overtakes him. But then she’s still all “oh shit he’s hot” so she gets up. Training’s over.

I loved the delivery of, “Thanks, um…you’re a great teacher.” “And you’re an excellent student.” So I’m keeping that. Suki acknowledges Sokka’s role as his village’s protector. Sokka, sadly, “Can’t protect them if I’m not there, can I?” And Suki looks at him earnestly. “I’m sure that you made sure they were safe before they left.” “Why are you sure of that?” “Because we’re warriors. And it’s what I would have done.” Enter “you’re the fiercest warrior I’ve ever seen” and “truth is I envy you” spiel. They share an intimate look, like maybe they’re about to kiss, and then the bell rings.

I also really, really loved the moment where Suki goes, “The bell,” and Sokka, all dreamy and lovestruck, says, “You hear it, too?” because OMG what an adorable sap. So I’m keeping that, too. 

They go kick ass together. Sokka jumps in front of Suki to save her from a fireball with his fans. And as much as I like the idea of Suki getting to see a manifestation of Avatar Kyoshi right before her very eyes, I would actually take that part out because for a lot of thematic reasons that I won’t get into here, I prefer Aang and Katara realizing they should retreat to draw fire away from the island, rather than being told they have to leave. And because of that, Sokka and Suki’s goodbye has to be hurried.

While they're ducking for cover, Sokka apologizes again. "Suki, I'm sorry... For treating you like a girl. I mean...you are a girl, but for treating you like just a girl. I mean, a girl who isn't a warrior. I'm sorry for treating you like girls can't be warriors—"

Suki smiles and shakes her head, then kisses his cheek.

"Thank you, Sokka. For showing me that there's more out there."

He gapes at her.

"Now get out of here! We'll hold them off.”

He escapes with Aang and Katara, and while they're flying away on Appa, Sokka pulls off the headdress and runs his thumb over it thoughtfully. Aang says “Nice dress, Sokka,” and Sokka looks up and says, “It's a warrior’s uniform.” 

~fin!~

(I, too, enjoy the sort of slow burn way their relationship develops in the animated show, so I definitely get how you feel about the lack of buildup, Anon. So if it were my rewrite, I would keep that aspect in. ;))

Thank you so, so much for your asks!! I'm having a blast answering them, and I'm so happy to hear you enjoy my blog! 💗💗💗Feel free to keep 'em coming if there's anything else you wanna talk about!

#natla #natla spoilers #sukka #live action atla #netflix atla #spoilers #sokka x suki #suki x sokka #answered asks