#anyways. hope this helps with understanding

[yan-randomfandom]

I've been reading the fanart. You have a natural talent for creating a more distinctive personality for the Saja Boys from the bits and pieces they gave us in the movie!

Ever since that fanart where the Saja sneaked into the reader's room, I couldn't stop imagining what they would be like sleeping alone with her, as if every day of the week except the weekends they will take turns sleeping with the reader or something like that.

And again, I love your writing. I hope you like the idea. Have a nice day!!!

Saja Boys x GN!Reader

a/n; anon thank you so much heheh!!! this one isn't too accurate to your idea, but i love it and i hope it's still okay!

summary; physical touch with the boys and why they wanna go to your bedroom :))) (touch starved. written separately but they all live in the same housing)

warnings; stalking (watching you sleep), body curious, touching w no permission, nothing sexual tho!

— 🍃 [Monday]

Here's the thing, guys. The boys don't actually need sleep. They're demons. Sleep isn't something their bodies need—instead it's something they want. They are still aware and can feel through touch, which is exactly why they'd prefer to sleep with you.

You're warm, so alive, and they don't know it yet.

Surprisingly enough, Jinu is the first one to knock on your door.

"Jinu?" you drawl, voice laced with sleep. He stands awkwardly by the doorway, patiently waiting for you to process what's happening. Glancing idly at your sleepwear and dimlit room.

You yawn, widening the door. "What's up? Need something?" You pause, raising a lazy accusing finger. "Wait. You're not here to suck my blood, are you—?!"

"What? No!" Jinu gasps, almost offended. You sigh out of relief anyway.

"...We're not interested in physical bodies. Anyway, uh, sorry for waking you up. I just need to see how our socials are going," he explains as he steps into your room. "You can power your computer and go back to sleep."

As soon as you heard the word 'social', you were already turning it on. "'kay, buddy. You sure you don't need help, though? I know I taught you a bit but I understand it can get confusing—"

"No, no," Jinu huffs, denial flooding his form. "I can do it."

"You remember how to turn it off?"

"Yes. Don't worry."

Then you fall asleep next to him, your body slightly pressing against his. His eyes slowly drift away from the glow of the computer screen to your sleeping form. He stares for a moment.

Soft, warm. It reminds him of the past on how he couldn't sleep with his own fam—

Jinu pulls the computer plug off and teleports away.

—💐 [Tuesday]

Baby made you piggyback him. A lot. It was sort of your fault.

You saw the Saja Boys taking turns carrying him—it was a pretty funny ordeal. Then you jokingly offered to piggyback him to see what the hype was about.

He accepted it all too eagerly. As soon as his full weight falls on you, you're genuinely surprised at how light he is. It's probably equivalent to a box full of volleyballs.

"You're lighter than I thought," you say, adjusting your arms behind his legs.

Baby suddenly lets his head rest on yours. "Why are you so..." Warm. He buries himself into your shoulder, his arms tightening around you.

"Why am I so what?" you ask, turning your head, only achieving to tickle him more.

He doesn't let you go for the rest of the day.

And by extension, night.

You tried to complain at first. "Didn't we agree to—"

"Just this once, please?"

You folded.

He snuggles all comfortable within your arms, acting as the little spoon, greedily content in your warmth and breathing.

But then you wake up with his mouth on your skin. He wasn't biting, sucking, or anything. It was just.... there.

Still, though, you assumed the worst.

"I thought you said demons don't suck blood, Jinu!?!"

"We don't!!?!"

—🪷 [Wednesday]

Abby wanted you to touch his abs for some mysterious reason. Yapping about how "no one else will have this chance," or "you might not live long enough to feel it!" and "I actually haven't let anyone touch my artificial abs yet" — it was really weird, but you shrugged it off and agreed anyway.

Like hell yeah. Sure, why not?

So he unbuttons his shirt, all giddy, and watches as you reach for his skin.

You make contact with his abs. Caressing it gently, it feels normal in texture — but you suppose it's a little too cold. The fact didn't totally sound weird at the time.

Looking up, you flinch at Abby's expression. You thought he'd be smiling, like he was the whole time, but he looks so serious that it's actually concerning. He's not looking at you; his eyes were down and fixated on your hand.

You notice, pulling your hand away from him, and snapping your fingers. "You okay?"

He blinks. "Uh."

Later that night, Abby welcomes himself into your room.

He stares at you from the corner. From the center. From the edge of your bedframe. On your bed.

Sometimes, he'd gently let his hands roam over your exposed skin. Mostly your warm hands. And your warm face.

You wake up to find his face in front of you.

Screaming, you unintentionally kick him in the abs.

"Ow, my perfectly crafted abs!"

— 🪻 [Thursday]

Mystery almost lost it when you pat his head.

You did it voluntarily. It's a nice, comforting feeling as you pat his shoulder, his arm, and his cheek. He utterly melts under your casual touches without a single word.

He loves it. You leave him demanding for more. So, Mystery decides to linger around you like a guard dog. Who hopes to be spoiled, who wishes to be held.

But, then, night comes.

"You're not exactly allowed in my room," you say, only to pause when he straight up whimpers.

... You folded. With a sigh, you step away from the door and give him space to walk in.

He happily skips into your room, flopping face-first on your bed. You stare at him for a moment, thinking about how despite them not being human — they really love to rest.

You lie down, feeling Mystery move around under your blanket, closing your eyes when he finds himself comfortable against your chest.

Your chest rising and falling with every breath—Mystery simply can't help but feel envious.

— 🌺 [Friday]

Romance is confused.

There's a buzz between his band members — apparently, they visited your bedroom? Didn't they agree to avoid that specific place in this house?

He doesn't realize he's been staring blankly at nowhere. Reality hits him hard when something gentle touches his hair.

"Might wanna style your hair again, Rome," you chuckle, brushing his hair with your fingers. He shivers when your skin grazes his forehead. "You got the bed head. Though I guess you just snap your fingers and it'd be all okay."

You leave right after that, but Romance keeps staring at the last place he saw your figure, his fingers fidgeting with the hair you just touched.

Okay. He gets it now.

Next day, you woke up with him hovering over your head.

You suddenly grab his shoulders, push him back against your bed, breathing heavy from the shock. The bed sinks under both your weight.

Romance stares immensely up at you.

"You guys," you breath, "will be the death of me."

He smirks. "I can only imagine."

— krazy

[jinhyun]

—heart fluttering.

pairing: hwang hyunjin x reader, ft. lee chaeryeong x kim seungmin

genre: fluff, humor, college au, established relationship, slice of life

word count: 4.5k

summary: who would’ve thought that an unattended romance book on your coffee table would lead to a whole argument with your friends about the technicalities of pinning someone up against the wall. good thing your boyfriend was eager to help you reenact such a controversial scene and—not really—prove your point.

a/n: well hello there, it’s been a while hehe. i’m just here to post this story for my mother hen @taikapavunvarsi’s birthday, as i’ve been doing every single year now. couldn’t lose the tradition. i fucked up the time zones for this post and you’re probably sleeping rn, but i still hope you had the greatest of days and got lots of love from your loved ones, you deserve nothing but the best things in life ♡ i also hope that you enjoy this little one shot i wrote for you. i haven’t written at all in like two months so forgive my rustiness. anyway, you said you wanted ‘booktok boyfriend challenge’ and maybe reversed, and also after some digging on my end (aka going all the way up on our chat 💀) i realised that you said ‘the watercolors’ when you sent that video to me, so the watercolors you get. and also it’s not really a tiktok challenge they’re doing in this piece bc i kinda twisted it as always lol but i hope you still like it<3

and well, since i wrote this for the watercolor couple, i thought fuck it i’m posting it here. if anyone else reads it, i hope you all enjoy~

“That’s impossible” Seungmin’s final statement earned a side eye from you, which was nothing compared to the way Chae whipped her head in his direction—just like that, letting him know she was taking full offense in his confident words.

“No, it’s not?!” Chaeryeong beat you to it, just as you were opening your mouth to let out the exact same words.

“Babe, I’m telling you, it’s not possible”.

“Yes, it is!” You backed your friend up this time.

Given the intensity each of your statements carried, any outsider would think you were discussing a life or death situation. Especially after the over dramatic roll of eyes Seungmin gave you after contradicting him.

In reality, what got the three of you so heated up was whether a specific paragraph from the book Cherry was currently reading—and which you had already read and lent it to her in the first place—was actually possible or not.

“Give me the book,” Seungmin asked his girlfriend, holding his palm open for her to comply. Once she did, he traced his index finger under the words as he read them out loud: “He shoved her up against the wall, his height towering over her, and then with one hand pinning both of her wrists above her head”.

“What’s so unrealistic about it?” You wondered when he finished with a rather amused scoff.

“So, he pushes her against the wall, then he towers over her, meaning he’s like, extremely close to her, and then with one hand he grabs both her wrists and pulls them up over her head?”

“I don’t get you…” Chaeryeong frowned, visibly trying to understand her boyfriend’s point.

“Wouldn’t her arms be stiff when he pulls them both up at the same time?” He pointed out. “There wouldn’t be space for him to pull them up, since he needs to hold them together, probably in the middle, and then pull them up. He either should’ve done that before coming closer to her or should’ve used both hands so they could go up from her sides and not from the middle”.

You and Chaeryeong stayed silent, exchanging troubled looks as you simultaneously tried to picture the point he was making and to come up with different ways for the narration to work out.

Truth be told, you didn’t really care that much about the physical technicalities when it came to romance books. As long as you could picture what the writer was trying to portray, even if it wasn’t exactly what they had in mind, you were okay with it.

As long as the words in it made you feel something, you could look past a couple of mistakes.

Seungmin, on the other hand, who had only read that one page when Cherry left the book unattended to go to the restroom a few minutes ago, could not look past the ‘poor’—as he had so dismissively called it—wording of that particular paragraph.

“It doesn’t say that they’re extremely close, though?” You argued. “Maybe there is enough space for him to do that”.

“There isn’t” he was fast to reply.

“How would you know that?” Chaeryeong frowned.

“When us guys shove someone against the wall we instinctively corner them right away, that’s the whole point. You don’t just push them and stand there like an idiot before doing anything else”.

“Oof, speaking from experience now?” You taunted him, laughing proudly when you got flipped off right away. “Maybe this one guy did just stand there for a bit and therefore there was enough space between them”.

Chaeryeong nodded rapidly, strongly agreeing with you before Seungmin shook his head in disagreement.

“It literally says he was towering over her”.

“And the meaning of that is up for interpretation,” his girlfriend argued back once again.

“What’s up for interpretation?” Hyunjin asked, entering the living room holding a big bowl of popcorn, after having excused himself to go make himself a quick snack earlier.

“The paragraph from a book” you answered him.

“The one you lent Cherry?” He asked, leaning against the doorframe as he shoved a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

You couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him, for a moment there forgetting you were in the middle of an argument. “Yes. There’s this one line that Seungmin swears is not possible”.

“It’s not, though” Seungmin argued once more, and you knew right then he was now only trying to provoke you and his girlfriend.

The glare you threw his way must’ve been one of a kind, for it had Hyunjin chuckling in a heartbeat.

“I thought you guys were fighting for real from the bits and pieces I heard from the kitchen”.

“Oh, we’re close to” Cherry folded her arms over her chest.

It was funny to think this was what your Friday nights had come to after a year of you dating Hyunjin, and of Cherry dating Seungmin.

With you and Chaeryeong being best friends and also roommates, and the same being Hyunjin and Seungmin’s situation, it was inevitable for the four of you to stick together among your larger group of friends. It was unspoken, even.

Since you and Seungmin were done earlier with your last class on Fridays, you would head over to the dance practice room together, where Chaeryeong and Hyunjin would be, as always, mastering their respective routines. You would wait for them to finish, catch up a bit in the meantime, and then all four of you would head over to either your or their dorm, and just hang out there if you didn’t have any particular couple activities planned out with your respective partners. Usually, it was yours, so you wouldn’t bother Changbin if he happened to be at their place—you had already been called out one too many times for making him fifth wheel.

Today, it was no different.

It was supposed to be a peaceful evening, just chatting in the living room all four of you until it was time for Chae and Seungmin to leave, since they were going to the movies later that night. Although, to be fair, no evening could ever be completely peaceful when both your dramatic boyfriend and her tsundere one were together.

Maybe if Chaeryeong hadn’t left your book on the coffee table the night before, you could’ve accomplished an almost peaceful one, because then Seungmin wouldn’t have caught a glance of it after she left his side and he found himself looking for another eye-catching sight around your place, and maybe then he wouldn’t have read that infamous line that got the three of you arguing like your lives depended on it.

Hyunjin would probably have agreed with Seungmin, had he been in the room with you when all hell broke loose. Their experience pinning people against a wall was probably over half of yours—which was nonexistent—after all. But, he wasn��t there for it. So, your eyes lit up when you looked at him and an idea came to your mind.

Watching him place the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table as he munched on another handful of them, you stood up before he could take a seat next to you like he intended.

“Jinnie, come here” you called him, having him follow you to the wall next to the sofa where you had been sitting. When he was in front of you and his rather confused eyes were silently asking you what you wanted, you said: “Pin me up against the wall”.

And maybe you should’ve known better than to make such a request to him all of a sudden, because next thing you knew, confusion was replaced by lust in the way he looked at you, and his hands on both sides of your hips were pulling you closer to him.

“Here in front of our friends?” He mumbled, smiling against your lips and sending shivers down your spine.

Sadly, he didn’t get to steal a kiss from your mouth like he was dying to. Not because of the giggle that had just escaped it—as you couldn’t help but get shy even after all the times you had kissed in front of your friends and vice versa—but because of the pillow Seungmin didn’t hesitate to throw at his head as soon as he realised what was about to go down in front of them.

“Boo, you hoe!” he called your boyfriend out.

Hyunjin threw his head lightly back, biting his lip as he tried to conceal the amused—yet frustrated—smile already parting his lips. Still, he didn’t hesitate to grab the pillow from off the floor and throw it right back to Minnie.

“So,” Hyunjin began after successfully hitting his friend, pulling you closer to him again. “Do I pin you up against the wall or not?”

“Yes, but not like that” Chaeryeong answered for you, causing a laugh to escape your lips.

“Wait, but don’t tell him how, we’re trying to prove a point here” you reminded them, looking for confirmation from both of them before your eyes went back to your boyfriend. “Just, pin me up against the wall”.

“Like, forcefully or…”

“Um…” you hesitated.

“It does say ‘shove’ against the wall here, so yeah, forcefully” Seungmin said.

“And then pull her hands above her head” Cherry added.

“What the hell are you guys on about?” He frowned, not really knowing whether he should be worried or not.

“Just do it” you laughed.

“Okay, so…” his uncertain eyes fixed on yours, looking for consent to push you against the wall.

With a silent nod, you let him know to go for it. And so, his hands went up to your ribcage, missing your breasts by an inch, and he pushed you to the wall. It wasn’t hard enough to hurt you, but just enough for a thud to be heard at the impact.

Before you could process whether you had liked it or not, he was already grabbing your hands and pulling them up above your head.

You found out right then that you did indeed like it. Maybe a little too much. Enough to only focus on his plump lips nearly touching yours, and, therefore, to miss the way he had used both hands to pin yours up.

“Told you!” Seungmin managed to break the sexual tension already taking over the two of you. “You need both hands for that”.

“Doesn’t mean you can’t use only one, though?” You argued, unconsciously resting your hands on Hyunjin’s chest.

“Oh, you wanted me to use only one?” He asked you, then looking at your friends. “I can do that”.

“Let’s see it,” Seungmin said, grabbing the bowl of popcorn and leaning back on the sofa.

“What are you, a judge?” Hyunjin scoffed.

“Oh, hush. Just do it”.

Rolling his eyes, he took a step away from you, so he could reenact the scene right from the start.

This time, however, instead of shoving you up against the wall right away, he grabbed your right wrist and then brought it up to your left one before he pulled them up above your head. It was only when your hands were about to reach the top of your head, that his free hand went up to your waist and he pushed you against the wall—almost as if he’d heard Seungmin’s previous argument—cornering you right away.

It was fair to say, whether he had just proved Seungmin’s point or not, you were enjoying this whole argument way too much.

“See?” Seungmin looked at Chaeryeong with a proud smirk.

“We haven’t seen the way the book describes it yet, though” she refused to give it up, reaching for the book on the coffee table and looking for the controversial paragraph.

“Is this really what our Friday nights have come to?” You asked in utter disbelief.

“I’m not really complaining” Hyunjin confessed—a breathy laugh escaping his mouth as he lovingly bumped your nose with his own.

“I mean, it could be possible,” Seungmin stood up, deliberately ignoring the PDA going on in front of him and walking over to you—watching the reenactment from the couch not being enough anymore. “But it’d be too inconvenient, like, if you’re that close and you hold both wr—”

“You are not shoving my girlfriend up against the wall” Hyunjin warned him when he tried to shove him aside in order to take his place, unconsciously grabbing your hand and pulling you to him.

Seungmin rolled his eyes. “I’m not, I’m just trying to make a point here”.

“Go make your point with Chaeryeong over there”.

“Hold on, I’m looking for the line” she absentmindedly replied as she scanned the page.

You snorted, leaning your head against your boyfriend’s shoulder. You didn’t know whether she was unaware or simply unfazed—either of them being just as funny to you.

“Okay, I got it,” Cherry announced, going up to you as well. “So, what you have to do is, shove her up against the wall,” she looked up to Hyunjin, waiting for him to do so—which he did, only gently this time, as the four of you seemed to be more into the technicality of it all rather than into the reenactment. “Tower over her,” she read, and that he did as well, making your heart race when he took it one step further by tilting your chin up with his fingers, so he could lean in to faintly touch your mouth with his lips.

“Keep it professional, dude” Seungmin called him out—justice being made for you when he was the one to get flipped off now by your boyfriend.

“And now,” Chaeryeong resumed. “With one hand, hold both of hers up”.

You knew Seungmin was right—as if the two previous tries hadn’t already been proof enough—when you saw your boyfriend hesitate, only then realising how close he had come to you by simply being told to tower over you.

Hyunjin knew something was off right away, having to take a few seconds to figure out how to pull your hands up in between the little to nonexistent space between your bodies.

In the end, the safest choice was to take a step back in order to do so, coming right back to tower over you as soon as he got your hands pinned to the wall. Just like that, proving that, although possible, it would turn out clumsy enough—not to say ‘inconvenient’, like Seungmin had claimed—to mess with the heat of the moment.

“Told you,” Seungmin smiled proudly once again. “Inconvenient”.

“Whatever” Chaeryeong shrugged, closing the book and carefully throwing it on the couch as she finally admitted defeat. “All I got from this is that you two share the same braincell. Luke clearly left enough space between them”.

“Luke,” he mockingly repeated the character’s name he had just learned. “Was clearly written by a woman who’s never pinned anyone against a wall”.

“And that’s why he’s way better than you two”.

You couldn’t help the throaty laugh that escaped your mouth at her bitter remark. While Seungmin’s jaw fell open, desperately looking for a clap back for that yet coming up with nothing, a quite offended Hyunjin nudged you, for your friend’s insult had involved him too and you were laughing.

Chaeryeong, on the other hand, was unable to hold back a laugh of her own at the sight of her baffled boyfriend—pulling the now pouty guy into a hug. “Okay, I’m sorry” she apologised with a peck to his lips, knowing she was forgiven when his hands rested on her waist and his thumbs drew small circles on it. “But, honestly, just read the damn book and you’ll get why we don’t really care about technicalities”.

“If it’s so good they’ll probably make a movie of it, so I’ll just wait for that” he smiled cynically.

Chaeryeong rolled her eyes with a smile, only for it to be erased the next second when realisation hit her. “Wait, the movie!”

Seungmin’s face was quick to match her panicked one.

Being too immersed in the rather entertaining argument, neither of them had remembered the movie they had got tickets for earlier that week, and which they should’ve left for a while ago now.

“Shit, what time is it?” Seungmin asked, rushing to get his things.

“Eight thirty” Hyunjin let him know as he checked his phone.

“Fuck, we only have fifteen minutes”.

“Let’s go” Cherry hurried him up, putting on her shoes and grabbing her coat by the entrance.

“Coming” Seungmin announced from the couch, shoving his phone into his pocket and running to put on his shoes as well, as Chaeryeong held the door open while waiting for him. “Okay, see you guys later, bye!”

Chuckling over the entire situation after hearing them slam the door shut, and feeling the silence take over the room now that your friends were gone, you looked up to Hyunjin. Although the both of you were resting your backs against the wall now, as he had leaned on it in order to watch your friends rushing out of your place, he didn’t waste another second to corner you again—getting the perfect opportunity to tilt your chin up and to finally press his mouth to yours, like he had been dying to ever since you asked him to pin you up against the wall earlier that night.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, and his own snaked around your waist, pulling you so close to his body that you found yourself laughing breathily at the lack of oxygen you were getting after a few seconds.

“So those are the kind of books you’re always reading?” He smirked over your lips, slightly loosening his hold on you—just enough for you to catch your breath.

“God forbid a girl wants to read some heart fluttering stories” you couldn’t help but sound defensive, gently letting your palms slide down to his chest.

He chuckled, gently nuzzling your neck. “I’m not shaming you or anything, it’s just interesting”.

“What is?”

“That those kinds of things make your heart flutter”.

“Those kinds of things?” You asked.

“Pinning you up against the wall?” He cocked a teasing eyebrow.

“As if you didn’t know that already” you rolled your eyes, folding your arms over your chest.

“I didn’t” he chuckled, teasingly pinching your sides before he pulled you closer and kissed you once more.

Sure, he had pinned you up against the wall a couple of times—maybe more than a couple in the time you had been together—but never forcefully, or at least not enough to make the impact of your body against it to actually make a sound, like it had today.

He had only now discovered that you enjoyed it. And he was surely loving this newfound liking of yours.

“If you ever got pinned up against a wall like that, you’d get the hype” you defended yourself.

“Well, you could always show me” he shrugged, unable to hide the smirk that was already curving up his lips.

“Me?”

“Aren’t you my girlfriend? Who else would pin me up against a wall if not you?”

“The height difference won’t help, though”.

“I’ll cooperate” he promised, earning a light laugh from you. “You need to do the whole thing, though. I want my arms pinned above my head and all”.

“You’re delusional,” you laughed.

“For knowing what I want?” He said over dramatically.

“Ah, what did I get myself into” you amusedly lamented, but gave in regardless.

Letting go of each other and switching sides, being now him the one turning his back to the wall while you faced him, you couldn’t help but hesitate, just like he had done before pushing you for the first time.

Turned out, it was actually mind wrecking not knowing how much force to put into shoving the person you loved in order not to hurt them. Not like you could actually push him that hard if you wanted, but still.

“I’m waiting~” he teased you.

At that, knowing well enough he would tease you even harder if you took any longer, you just pushed him without a second thought—only to panic as soon as you heard his back hit the wall.

“Was that okay?” You asked him right away.

He dramatically clutched his chest. “My heart’s nearly beating out of my chest”.

“Oh, shut up” you rolled your eyes, deciding to just get it over with and grab both his wrists in order to pull them above his head.

Since you had already pushed him and there was enough space between the two of you, given that you forgot to corner him against the wall right after—you could almost hear Seungmin calling you an idiot—your stubbornness told you to only use one hand to do so.

Now, the problem was, that you forgot how big Hyunjin’s hands actually were, and therefore why it was so easy for him to grab both your wrists with only one of them—as opposed to you, who were already struggling with the task.

Hyunjin was enjoying it one hell of a lot, though. He couldn’t hold back a giggle as he watched you struggle for a few seconds to secure his wrists in your hand, and then he completely lost it when you finally managed to pull them up over his head, only for you not to be able to reach all the way up and just leave them hanging there midway.

“Yah, you said you’d cooperate!” You whined.

“I’m slouching, I’m slouching” he defended himself in between laughs as he did so.

However, hearing your laugh only made him laugh harder, to the point he gave up on slouching at all and ended up kneeling down instead, letting his face rest on your abdomen and holding onto the curve of your back as he looked for some kind of support.

“You’re so annoying” you half laughed, half whined again; trying to help him stand back up.

“You’re so cute,” he cooed.

Letting out one last throaty laugh and finally managing to catch his breath, he let you help him up, smiling lovingly when you cupped his face and wiped the tears of joy that had rolled down his cheeks.

“So, pinning you up against the wall is a no-go to make your heart flutter” you nodded your head.

“It did flutter though, but just because you’re too adorable and I love you” he admitted, and it was your heart the one to flutter at that.

“What can I do to truly make your heart go all mushy then?”

“Honestly?” He asked.

You nodded.

“I love it when you play with my hair”.

You smiled, as it was no news. He had been very vocal about it after the first time you played with his hair while you cuddled on his couch, even way before being a couple.

It was always nice to hear how much he actually loved it, though.

“I was thinking more of a book-ish thing to do…” you confessed.

“Book-ish?” He poked fun at you.

“Yeah, you know, cliché things characters in romance books do” you looked around as you tried to think of something. “Like when they grab your face and make you look at them when you’re not paying attention, like—”

Before you could finish your sentence, he was already grabbing your chin and making you look up at him.

“Like this?” He mumbled against your lips.

You felt your cheeks burn embarrassingly fast, having to look to the side in a poor attempt to play it cool—only to have him playfully make you look at him again.

“Hwang Hyunjin,” you warned him, unknowingly making his heart race at the sound of the lower register you had just used.

“Yes, baby?”

“You’re not supposed to make me flustered, I was about to make a move there”.

He laughed under his breath. “Let’s be honest now, if you were to do that right now, with us standing up, I’d probably just end up looking to the wall”.

Your jaw fell open in full offense. “If I grab your face and turn it in my direction, you’re supposed to look at me even if I’m shorter than you. It’s common courtesy”.

“You’re the one manhandling me, you’re supposed to make me look at you”.

“And that’s what—I give up” you held your hands up in defeat. “I could never be the man of this relationship”.

“Good,” he said, grabbing your waist and turning both of you around, so that he was once again the one cornering you against the wall and leaning down so close to you that you could feel your breathings mix. “Just leave the manhandling to me, hm?”

You bit your lip, in a hopeless attempt to conceal the smile already curving up your lips. He chuckled against your mouth, leaning in to press a slow, lingering kiss to it.

You would be a fool to turn down his offer.

“I want to make your heart flutter too, though” you pouted nevertheless.

“And you always do that without even trying”.

“I do?”

“Mhm…” he lovingly tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Like I said, when you play with my hair, or when you lean your head on my shoulder, also when you call me baby… when you use that lower tone of yours to talk to me, and when you doodle literally anything while we talk and then gift it to me…” his eyes softened at the memories. “Do I keep going?”

You softly shook your head no—your heart already feeling warm enough because of his words. “I believe that’s good en—”

“Oh, I love it when you wear my clothes!” He cut you off, eyes lighting up over the sudden train of thought. “Fuck, especially when you only wear one of my t-shirts to sleep and I get to admire your pretty thighs while you walk around my room”.

You chuckled at his last addition, feeling your cheeks burn all over again. “You’re getting a bit carried away now, aren’t you, baby?”

He bit his lip, remaining silent yet not finding it in him to feel the least bit embarrassed. You were all his after all, he was allowed to admire your beauty in all its splendor and gush about it all he wanted.

“I’ll make sure to do all that more often then” you quietly added with a smile, reaching up to sweetly catch his bottom lip in between yours.

“There are a few of my t-shirts in your closet, so how about doing that one now?” He proposed, temptingly brushing his lips against yours.

“If that’s what it takes to make your heart flutter…” you quietly taunted him.

He agreed with a small nod, pressing his lips to yours and teasingly grabbing a hold of your wrists. “I’ll make sure yours does too by pinning you up against your bedroom wall while we’re at it”.

[everythingisamazing]

Here’s a "fun" analysis of why Jayce’s first speech in the astral plane doesn’t work — and why so many Jayces before him have failed to convince their partner: Viktor doesn’t care about being saved for his own sake. And as painful as it is to admit: he doesn’t care about being loved for his imperfections.

Why do I believe this? Because the show repeatedly emphasizes what Viktor does care about — across both seasons. And it all begins with one of the very first lines we ever hear from him, as a child in the flashback:

"Can I help?"

Later, when Viktor speaks to Heimerdinger about his impending death, what is his main concern? Not that he’s dying — but that he hasn’t done enough. That he’s only achieved figments.

When he and Jayce experiment with the Hexcore and the plants, it's Jayce who focuses on finding a cure for Viktor. Viktor, once again, talks about saving others.

I don’t even think his decision to experiment on himself with the Hexcore was ever truly about saving his own life — but rather about buying more time. Time to achieve what he hoped Hextech could accomplish for the world.

And while Viktor’s “death” technically happens in Season 1, it’s really his arc in Season 2 that made me read it this way: Because despite everything that changes — from who he is at the beginning of the series to the moment he creates the commune — one thing doesn’t change: His utter disregard for his own well-being in the pursuit of helping others.

From the very first moment we see him use his powers, the show makes it clear: it comes at a cost. His attempt to heal ending with his legs shaking and him falling to his knees.

Singed, when he visits the commune, even talks to Viktor about his "decline," as he calls it — how his power is diminishing with every use. (Viktor answering this by asking whether he believes in fate is... interesting, but that’ll be an analysis for another time.) And what does Viktor do? He pretty much ignores him and keeps trying — which is no different from what S1 Viktor would have done. So, to summarize: I feel like Viktor sees his own survival as a means to an end — as if he is merely a vessel for saving others, not a person worth saving himself. His body, not as something imperfect yet beautiful (as Jayce calls it), but as an inconvenience — something that gets in the way of achieving meaningful change.

Now, I can’t tell you why Viktor sees himself that way — the show doesn’t explain it, because, as mentioned above, he already holds this mindset when we first meet him as a child. To play armchair psychologist, I’d assume it has something to do with his loneliness, and how helping others through his mind feels like the one meaningful way he can connect with them.

And how does his relationship with Jayce play into all this? Jayce, as stated by the writers, connects Viktor to his humanity. In this reading, I’d say: Jayce is the one thing Viktor can’t help but be selfish about. Because when Mage Viktor saves Jayce as a child, he likely does more harm than good in many timelines. And yet — he does it anyway.

There’s no time in the show for Viktor to fully work through this issue. At best, he might have started to realize, by the end, how this approach caused more harm than good. But I don’t think he’s anywhere near caring for himself. That’s why Jayce’s "You always wanted to cure what you thought were weaknesses" speech “fails” — while "Because I promised you" works. I hope I’m not getting too psychological here, but I feel like for someone who’s so committed to helping others, honoring a promise is far easier for Viktor to understand than the concept of self-love.

It might even be a bit of a callback to when Sky warns him about trying to save Vander — and Viktor replies, "He is worth the risk." I think that’s a sentiment Viktor understands deeply. And he sees it reflected back at him through Jayce in that final moment. He can empathize with Jayce’s need to do right by him, even if he can’t yet empathize with himself. (That part — well, that’s for all the angst-with-a-happy-ending fics to figure out).

[blossomcola]

i accidentally posted this when i tried to save it to my drafts 🫩 i hope this is what you meant by “dp”, anon 😭 it took me a while to understand

pairing. dom!gp daniela avanzini x girlfriend!fem reader x inexperienced!gp megan skiendiel

content warnings. blowjob, deep throat, face fucking, hair pulling, nipple play, throat fucking, riding.

i can imagine this as daniela taking her girlfriend to spend time alone and taking advantage of the fact that the other members won’t be in the dorms today, completely forgetting that sweet megan is here too because unfortunately she has no plans for today :( but it’s good that daniela has manners and good education, so she knows what sharing is and has no problem doing it with her dear group mate.

megan would look on in complete amazement as daniela and you start things off, looking more than impressed when you climb onto daniela’s lap and shamelessly grind against her erection while making out with her in the messiest way possible, this is because she has never experienced anything as intense as what you two experienced and she can’t help but feel surprised at what is happening before her eyes! it’s beyond adorable the way she watches you two behave like wild animals without any consideration for her seeing this for the first time.

seeing how excited megan seems to be participating makes you have a soft spot for her, so you can’t help but give her so much of your attention that her knees are weak. megan isn’t inexperienced with women, but it's not like she has a huge track record with them, so it’s pretty obvious that she’s not a complete professional. anyway, seeing her get a little nervous and clumsy is something that makes you have a soft spot for her and you can’t tease her too much.

showering megan with attention just because you love seeing her adorable reactions <3 she doesn’t suspect anything because having female attention is something she has longed for for a long time, so of course she won’t suspect your real intentions! It only takes a “come on, mei mei. you have my permission to touch me.” for her to stop being so shy and put her hands on you.

riding daniela in reverse cowgirl so megan can stand in front of you and you can give her a good head>>>. megan would be having a hard time concentrating on her task because she would be watching you ride daniela like it was the easiest task in the world while she’s groping your body from behind, from playing with your nipples to slapping your ass to encourage you to do better. and well, she doesn’t expect it when you pull down her pants along with her boxers to free her cock from its confines while daniela takes your hair in a tight ponytail and guides your face to megan’s cock... she knows that megan will be a disaster if she tries to take control, so for now she will be in charge of guiding you until megan at least learns a little! daniela has no problem sharing you with her friend.

[lieslab]

I've never been a natural, all I do is try, try, try

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Chan X gn reader

Summary: You finally bring up the biggest fear you've been trying to hide from your boyfriend.

Genre: Comfort/hurt

Word Count: 1.7K

A/N: Someone has been waiting for this for quite a while now. Romantic relationships can be terrifying when they always seem to fall apart, but I like to think that maybe there really is a chosen one and life leads us to them. Requestee, I hope you find that someone that's forever special. Anyway, happy reading <3

_ _ _

“I love you. Every part of you. I don’t think you understand how I feel about you. You ignite something that has never been set ablaze before. I feel like I finally understand what my father meant when he said when I found the one for me, it’d just click. It happened with him and my mom.” 

“You think we click?” You asked. 

“I think we do so much more than click. You know how people say they think the stars align for different reasons? I think the stars aligned and burned brighter. I think the smog couldn’t hide them and the light pollution seemed non-existent.” 

You remained quietly perched on the edge of the roof. It wasn’t the safest place to be. Your legs dangled over the edge and your shoes hung over the window that the two of you climbed out of. Above you, most stars remained hidden in the night sky. 

You and Chan had been dating for a while now. It wasn’t the first time the two of you snuck out of his dorm and it wouldn’t be the last time, either. Maybe it was childish, but you adored it. He always let you go first and he kept his hands stuck out the window, ready to catch you if you ever fell. You hadn’t and you planned to keep it that way. 

The two of you took turns slipping cheddar goldfish crackers out of the bag between the two of you. Chan gushed about you and as much as you wanted to believe his words, you never could. Your past romantic relationships always blew up in your face. They blew up and there was nothing you could do to make it better. 

You fell head over heels, they all said the right things, and then they left. Too immature. Not ready for commitment. They fell out of love. You became boring. You never understood it and you didn’t know why it occurred. What part of you was boring? 

On the first date with Chan, you built up a glass wall between the two of you. You tried to pretend everything was fine, but deep down, you always had doubts. They sprouted when the relationship started, they kept growing as you progressed. 

You wanted to be happy. You wanted to believe him. You wanted everything to turn out right, let the stars remain perfectly aligned, but you never believed his words. He gushed about you now with hand gestures and light in his eyes, but what about a month from now? Three months? Six months? Certainly, by then, you’d bore him, too. 

Maybe some people aren’t meant to be loved. Perhaps, they go through their lives being the side-kick. The one to cheer people up and make them happy, but to never experience the longevity of love. People come and go, stories change, and responsibilities switch. 

You loved Chan in a way you’d never loved someone before. You appreciated the tender touches, the way he always looked out for you. When you walked outside after it rained, he kept his hand placed along the small of your back. Before you could open your car door, he’d jerk around you with a meek smile and open your car door for you. 

When you woke up groggy and tired, he’d kiss your forehead before bending down and tightly lacing your shoes. That’s the type of guy Chan was. He didn’t complain and each small task he helped you with, it was never a problem. He wanted to be there and help you. It’d never feel like a problem. 

Being with you was as easy as breathing. Even when the two of you were quite a distance up in the air, it still felt right. He didn’t fear falling and neither did you. Swaddled in your gaze with the warmth of your thigh against his, his worries melted away. Love squelched from the pores in his heart. How is it possible for a single person to make another feel this way? 

Time stopped with you. He hoped it remained like this forever. Time wasted away to quiet conversations and secrets that only the moon could hear. You didn’t complain when he tucked the bag of goldfish between his legs. He leaned over and let his head lean against your shoulder. “You’re quiet tonight.” 

“You noticed?” 

“I think I can always notice when something is wrong with you. Wanna talk about it?” 

You glanced over at the bag of goldfish crackers in his lap. “Did you know the goldfish cracker was invented by a man that loved his wife? She was a Pisces and he made them for her as a birthday present.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah. That’s why they’re in the shape of a fish. He loved her to the point of invention. He made more, the word spread, and eventually, goldfish crackers were born.” 

“I think that’s beautiful.” 

“Goldfish crackers are fragile.” You leaned over, grabbed one out of the bag, and held it up. “Just like hearts, if you move the right way–” Your fingers squeezed and the flaky orange cracker crumbled into bits. It fell between your fingers and fell to the ground below. “You’re left with bits and pieces that can’t go back together.” 

“Mhm.” 

“Have you ever had a romantic relationship that you’ve yet to fully recover from?” 

His eyebrows furrowed and he pulled away from you. “Yeah, maybe at one point, but not now. I’m with you and when I’m with you, you’re all I’m thinking about. It’s never anyone else. Are you–” 

“It’s not like that, Chan. It’s not like I’m still in love with someone, god, no.” Your head shook rapidly and you ran a hand through your hair. You glanced up, staring at the pale underbelly of the moon. “I don’t love my exes anymore, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t afraid that one day you’ll end up as one of my exes.”

He studied you, trying to understand. You refused to look at him. “When I fell in love with each of my exes, I finally thought I found the one. Marriage, a family, and whatever else. Each time, they left. They said they weren’t ready. The one called me boring and he said he wasn’t in love with me anymore.” 

You finally moved your head, looking down at him. “What if that happens to us? I really love you, Chan. I’m terrified that what we have now will be a faded memory one day. I try to be brave and pretend like I’m okay, but I’m terrified. I’m not brave and I know I shouldn’t think like that. I shouldn’t be selfish and if you ever decide to leave one day, I have to be okay with that.” 

“It’s not selfish to want love. Not ever. It’s not selfish to want to be with someone that lights up the sky and brightens your darkest day. That’s not selfish, it’s basic human desire.” He reached forward, gently taking your chin. 

“You have nothing to apologize for. Some people are so brutal and even if they don’t mean to, their actions and words leave scars.” He reached up with a thumb, gently brushing against one of your cheek bones. “Admitting this isn’t foolish, it’s bravery.” 

“I’m here with you because I want to be. I might be busy and I have a career, but I’m here because I want you. I’m not interested in breaking your heart and walking away, I want to love you for a long time.” A faint smile quipped up on the side of his mouth. “Forever, if you’ll let me.” 

“I really want to believe you,” you whispered. 

“You don’t have to believe me right now, but I’ll do whatever I can do to prove it to you.” He slung an arm over your shoulder and you let your head fall against his shoulder. 

“I know it’s a bit uncalled for, but maybe I’m a little glad they gave you up. I’ll treat you like a flower and keep you captive. I’ll make sure you stay hydrated with water and nurture you with kisses.” 

You couldn’t respond. He pressed his lips to the side of your temple and you blushed. “It feels really nice to get that out of my system.” 

“I bet it does. Screw them, you’re mine now. If they want to come back, they’re going to have to get lost. You snooze, you lose, or whatever they say. I can’t believe they gave up on this. Goldfish crackers on the roof and the stars.” 

“To be fair, the one was afraid of heights and the other lived in a place where the roof wasn’t accessible.” 

“Are you saying–”He leaned closer and his warm breath brushed against your ear. “I’m your first bad boy.” 

“Bad boy?” You laughed. “Chan, you’re like a giant teddy bear.” 

“Teddy bears don’t encourage their significant others to climb roofs. Just admit it, I’m the first bad boy that stole your heart.” 

“You're such a goofball.” 

“A bad boy goofball. I can’t wait to unlock your phone when you sleep and change my contact name.” 

“Huh?” 

He briefly glanced over and shrugged. “Well, it’s gotta get done somehow.” 

You chuckled and leaned back against his shoulder. You sucked in a deep breath and glanced up at the sky. “We should probably go inside.” 

“Or we could stay out here until this bag of goldfish is empty.” He grabbed another one and held it up to you. Your lips parted, he gently slipped it between them, and you consumed it. 

“Can we?” 

“You don’t have to ask twice.” 

The two of you remained perched on the edge of the roof. Your legs dangled and you entertained the moon with stories. At one point you laughed so hard while chewing crackers, a piece came out your nose, causing Chan to accidentally drop the bag down below. You shared a wide-eyed look before the two of you burst into another fit of laughter. Surrounded by stars, head-over-heels in love, you didn’t want it to end. 

Whether it lasted for a brief moment, or a lifetime, you had no doubt you’d come back to this moment and laugh at the memory all over again.

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Taglist: @lia-linny @seungnishi @stellasays45 @emilyywhyy @rockstarkkami @flightlessackerman @inlovewithstraykids @velvetmoonlght @chrizrizz @ari-hwanggg @m-325 @justcallmewhatyoulike @bokkiesluv @phinnyphinnegan @zayn-210

Masterlist

Taglist and inbox rules

Ko-fi

[edwardslvrr]

it’s sooo so hot here ☹️ buttt it’s inspired me!! spencer bby sprouting facts when ur in the hospital after collapsing at work from heat stroke. ur so stubborn and he’s warned u about the signs bc the temp was slowly creeping up but you promised him that u were fine

I TOLD YOU SO ☆ spencer reid

✦　　　.　　before they left for work spencer warned reader about the hot weather and how she should stay hydrated and not be in the heat for too long, all goes well until she passes out on in the field.

AUTHOR TALKING -> babe the way your brain works, mwah mwah!! anyway queen hope you enjoy

WARNING -> mention of passing out and heatstroke (pls be careful with the hot weather, take care of yourself!!)

She was packing the last of her things, whilst her boyfriend was rambling on and on about the heat and how she needed to protect herself. She knows he means well but it’s seven in the morning, who has so much to say at this time?

“Did you know your brain is especially sensitive to heat?” Spencer starts again, a whole new fact. “High body temps can cause confusion, irritability, and eventually unconsciousness.”

“Okay, Spence. I love you, but it’s 7 in the morning and I’ve slept 5 hours. Can we do this after I have some coffee?” Yn kindly begs her boyfriend, as she yawns and rubs the sleep out of her eyes.

He’s quiet for about 5 minutes as he follows her to the kitchen. “Drinking coffee in hot weather can actually dehydrate you slightly because caffeine is a mild diuretic.” He stopped as he notices her confused expression.

“It increases urine output.” Spencer explained the word, and continues rambling when she nods understandably.

“So while one or two cups won’t harm most people, relying on coffee instead of water in the heat can increase your risk of dehydration.” Spencer rambles off, as Yn grabs a bottle of water from the fridge instead of the coffee she was about to drink.

“Thought you were getting coffee?” Spencer frowns.

“Changed my mind, my sweet genius.” She smiled, standing on her tippy toes to give him a kiss. “Need to make sure I don’t increase my urine output.” Yn teases, as he just looked confused.

The couple makes their way out of the house and get to Yn’s car, while Spencer is passenger princess again today. “So be sure to reapply sunscreen every two hours. SPF 30 or higher. Even if it’s cloudy! Did you put sunscreen on just now?” Spencer asks, for the third time this morning.

“Yes, sweet Spencer, I did.” Yn smiles as she gets in the car.

“And avoid energy drinks.” He gives her a knowing look. “They have caffeine, which can increase heart rate and mildly dehydrate you. But if you have to have caffeine, balance it with extra fluids.” And he continued to ramble on..

The team were called out to investigate a series of child abductions in Virginia, close to home this time luckily for the team. Hotch assigned both Spencer and Yn to interview the parents of the last missing child.

“We know-” Yn stumbled over her words, as she wiped the sweat off of her forehead. “We know this isn’t easy.” She gently tells the mother of the girl as she felt Spencer’s eyes on her.

“But anything you can remember, any detail, could help us find your little girl.” She practically breathes out, struggling with the heat.

“She was just… gone.” The mother started explaining, as Yn excused herself for a minute when she started to feel lightheaded.

Spencer looked back at her, with a concerned look, before trying to refocus on the mother’s story. “I looked away for one second at the park, and she.. she was gone.”

“That’s a very common tactic for abductors.” Reid started to explain, as he tried to spot his girlfriend somewhere but she disappeared when he turned around. “They often wait for a momentary distraction. It’s not your fault.” He calmly explains, trying to reassure her that it isn’t her fault.

The father started to get more angry. “How is that suppose to help?” He angrily points asks. “This doesn’t bring her back!” His voice raises even more.

“You’re ri-” Spencer started saying as he hears a loud thud from outside. “I’ll be right back.” He tells the parents, as he was already halfway out the door.

And that’s when he saw her, passed out on the floor.

Quickly grabbing his phone to call Hotchner, as he crouches to sit beside her and try to wake her up. “Need help here, now!” He basically yells into the phone.

“We’re on our way, Reid. What’s happened?” Hotchner calmly asks Reid, trying to understand why he’s so panicked.

“Yn, she, uh, passed out. I think a heatstroke, I need help now!” He explains between breaths, his brain completely shutting off and not being able to think straight anymore in this panicked state.

“Okay, stay calm. I’ll get an ambulance, move her to a cooler place and make sure to cool her down as much as you can. We’ll be there soon.” He explained quickly over the phone, as Spencer hangs up quickly and does exactly what his boss just told him to.

It’s been an hour since Yn passed out, currently she’s in a hospital bed with cooling blankets and the AC cranked up. And Spencer Reid sat on the chair next to the bed, only focusing on her breathing.

He’d been sat there for as long as he could, in the same position as the team was sat in the waiting room - expect for Derek and Emily who took over the interview and would arrive at the hospital as soon as they could.

“Spence-” You wince, your throat hurting. Spencer gasped, as he finally saw you waking up.

“Oh, you’re okay. Don’t talk, I know it hurts.” He kindly tells her, his hand grabbing hers as he rubs his thumb over the back of her hand. “Dehydration dries out the tissues in your throat and vocal cords. which makes talking feel scratchy, or even painful.” Spencer explains.

“Wha-” She tries to say but her throat hurts, so she just looks at him with tears in her eyes.

“You passed out. From heatstroke. Which, by the way, I warned you about this morning—multiple times” He gives her the ‘I told you so’ look. “I said, and I quote, ‘If your skin stops sweating and feels hot, that’s bad.’ And then what happened? You stopped sweating and collapsed”

“They gave you two liters of IV fluids. You were severely dehydrated. You also weren’t wearing a hat, or sunscreen.” Spencer rambled on, as Yn just looked at him guilty. It hurt to know he was only trying to protect her from this and she got in this exact situation.

“I’m not saying ‘I told you so’… except I am, just a little, because I did. I told you to stay in the shade. I told you to take breaks. You didn’t. So now you’re here. And I-” His voice breaks. “-I was scared, when I saw you lying there.”

He looks back at his girlfriend to see her crying, and immediately feels guilty.

“Just… don’t do that again, okay? Next time I offer you water, just drink it, no complaints.” Spencer smiles, giving Yn a kiss on her forehead.

“I love you, even when you don’t always listen to me.”

[birdiechrips]

Ice Cream - Toji Fushiguro

Summary/Tags: Dad!Toji asks for your help with his son Megumi. Fluff

You never wanted to be a mother, hell you never even wanted to settle down. Learning from your parent’s mistakes, you always prioritized your independence. But somewhere between the late night hookups and the quick mid day meetups, Toji had become important to you. So you met his son.

The six year old sat in the old diner quietly, pushing around the stack of chocolate chip pancakes. You didn’t blame him, you weren’t much of a talker either. Toji talked enough for all three of you anyway. Blabbing on about some old dude that annoyed him in the grocery store. The tension in the air is thick and awkward, but Toji continues his rambling, as if this was just another normal day. Reaching up to tuck your hair behind your ear, you try to ease your nerves. Eyes scan the surrounding area, taking in everyone seated around your table. You jump in your seat as you lock eyes with curious little brown ones, barely poking over the table. You nod your head at Megumi, watching as he nods back. 

It starts slowly, spending more and more time in the Fushiguro household. Megumi still doesn’t say much, just observes, trying to figure you out. The last thing you wanted to do was have the boy hate you, so you go slow. You greet him when you enter the house, and keep conversations light, not forcing him to answer right away. You're trying to match his pace, not wanting to rush him into accepting you. 

So it comes as a shock when Toji calls you in the middle of the day begging for a favor. He got caught up in a job and needs you to pick up Megumi from school. You say yes without even thinking, not like you would say no to Toji to begin with. Nerves wreck you, mentally preparing for your first time alone with his son. 

It’s 2 pm when you pull up to the school, Megumi doesn’t get out until 2:50pm but you don't want to be late. So you sit in the car, switching between social media apps, but you can only check story updates so many times before you run out. You don’t understand why you’re so nervous, you’ve never been like this before. Always confident and sure of yourself. But something about Megumi has you second guessing yourself. Maybe it’s because Toji is important to you, you love him and know it would never work if his son didn’t like you. You only want the best for Megumi, as you hope to be around for a while. 

Glancing at the time, you sigh, slamming your car door closed. Wiping your hands on your jeans, you make your way towards the school entrance. Your pace slows, coming to stand next to groups of other parents. Keeping your eyes on the ground, you shuffle from foot to foot. You can feel eyes on you, questioning your presence at the school, but you're too far away to hear their whispers. Thankfully the bell rings quickly. 

You're not sure what class is coming out first, you're not even sure who Megumi's teacher is. You shift closer to the door as parents leave, making sure Megumi can see you once he walks out. Head after head, you keep your eyes focused on the door, not wanting to miss Megumi’s spiky black hair. You practically jump out of your skin as you feel a tug on your jeans. Your head snaps down, Megumi’s blue eyes staring back up at you. “Your dad called and asked me to pick you up.” Megumi just continues to stare at you. You sigh, “Right… come on then.” You turn around, heading back towards your car. Stopping in your tracks as you feel little fingers slip into yours. You grip them back, choosing to continue on, not making a big deal of it. 

Crossing the street carefully, you get Megumi into the back seat, buckling his seat belt. You didn’t think this far, you still had time to kill before Toji would be home. You look up, meeting Megumi’s eyes in the rearview mirror. He sits there silently, hands folded in his lap. “Well… do you wanna go get ice cream?”

Leaning against the brick wall, Toji Makes quick work pulling out the pack of cigarettes from his pocket. Letting one hang out lazily out of his mouth, he reaches down for his lighter. Inhaling the smoke, his eyes study the graffiti scattered along the walls of the alleyway. He promised you he would quiet, and he had, he just needed something to take the edge off. Inhaling again, Toji hears his phone go off. Rolling his eyes, he braces himself for whatever bullshit Shiu has for him. Dropping the cigarette, Toji laughs at his phone, quickly saving the photo you sent him. A selfie of you and his son, ice cream cones in hand, both smiling at the camera. He laughs again at the chocolate all over Megumi’s face. He sets the photo as his lock screen, happy his favorite people are getting along. 

[bluequeerio]

Omg I never thought about it that way! Thank you so much for sharing! ^^ This has actually helped me understand myself a bit :)

Personal vent down below:

Ppl can say whatever the fuck they want abt ep 5 and Ragatha (bc the block button exists lol) BUT it helped me realize I was in a toxic relationship 😃 I’ll try not to get into it too much bc it’s, well, personal lol

But anyways, seeing Raggie not being chosen despite all her kindness towards Pomni hit a little too close to home 😅 And as much as it pained me seeing her left alone at the end of the ep and then that Glitch post with her sitting by herself staring off into the beautiful night sky, I think it’s what I needed 😭 Cuz I was like, “good for her, she deserves better than that anyways” which made me go “wait a damn minute…” ajdhjsjdksjs 🫢

Another thing that’s piqued my interest is thinking back on Pomni’s apology at the end of ep 3. Of course I think she meant it but at the same time I’m like “well if she meant that then she hasn’t really shown it…” 😐 And I think this is my thought process bc HAHAHA MY EX WAS LIKE THAT 🤠🔫 For instance, they would make/give me gifts that were kinda the bare minimum, call me pretty/hot, tell me they loved me, and want to kiss me so fucking bad yet when it came to the emotional aspect they would disappear like Jax in the pilot during Kaufmo’s abstraction sequence lmaooooo 💀😵‍💫😞

Notes:

🔮 I DO NOT hate Pomni after this ep, I’m just upset and scared for her lol 😣 Like YES ik she is an adult but she’s hanging out with the guy who thinks Gangle genuinely likes it when he bullies her 😬 I just hope our jester girlie is being cautious at the very least (but it doesn’t seem like it rip 🫤)

🔮 I am also very aware that my ex COULD stumble upon this post, I just don’t gaf anymore 🥴🤧 I think she deserves to know she was actually not the best girlfriend. I feel played and used 😓🙄🫩 Seriously I’d rather Jax shoot me in that safari adventure

🔮 Last but not least, if u know or think u know who my ex is PLS DO NOT GO AFTER THEM!! I hope this quick edit is not too late 😮‍💨 My feelings are my feelings whether they are right or wrong. But that is solely my business. I am simply venting, not trying to stir up trouble. FYI: my ex is not a terrible person or anything like that — I just realized we weren’t as compatible as I thought. And guess what? That’s ok! ☻

🌔 Other quick edit: I said some harsh things abt what they did/how it made me feel and not only have I removed some of them (the worst ones in my opinion) but I’d like to apologize, as I’ve accepted that I need to work on myself so that I can move on :) Yes I feel hurt, but the entirety of Tumblr doesn’t need the details. If they’re reading this or have already done so, I’m very sorry! I really do want the best for you but I was in my feels when I first made this post 🤥 And it will not happen again! 😣

♡ If you’ve made it this far, thank you so much for reading! ♡

Ok so

I personally didn’t see this scene as Ragatha realizing she’s alone

I actually think this is her making the choice to give up on getting closer with Pomni

See, It’s important that we got these moments in between Ragatha realizing Pomni and Jax have grown close enough to act like friends

Between her getting to know about someone she’s supposedly been stuck with for years and still being on good terms with someone she’s felt guilty for treating poorly

Ragatha is actually shown to be growing closer with the others

This is her feeling the warmth and validation she’s been seeking out

She doesn’t need more friends, she’s had some pretty good ones already, and in her obsession to be liked by yet another person has made her forget that a bit

Her brief moment of explosive anger with Pomni (very justified anger I might add) and then witnessing how Pomni was choosing to keep talking with Jax (the one who made her angry in the first place) made her feel betrayed

She’s watching Pomni bond with someone who likes to hurt others

She’s been wanting to get closer with a person who who wants to spend their time with someone who hurts her

So at the end, I think she’s realizing that this is not the kind of person she wants to get close with anymore

[solarstranger]

CHAPTER 1 | I HOPE YOU SEE (RIGHT THROUGH ME)

w.c. 1.2k

tags. minors dni. fem!reader, pro-hero!katsuki, aged-up (23), some cussing (it's not bakugou's internal monologue if there aren't any), suicide-related deaths (see series synopsis for more details), discussions of suicide, canon-typical descriptions of violence

a/n. welcome to another series by yours truly!!!! i know i still have that body swap one in the queue, and while i am planning on working on that, this series' premise just spoke to me and i was emboldened to write it as soon as i could. i'm writing this as i go, though, so the posting schedule is likely gonna be erratic, but i promise i'll try to write this consistently. anyway, i'd absolutely love to hear what you think throughout the process, so please don't be a stranger and talk to me!

links. masterlist, ao3

Somehow, he’s wound up in the emergency room of Musutafu’s highly renowned Central Hospital.

Which, if he had the energy left to really think about it, is not particularly an unusual occurrence. He’s been here—and other similar hospitals—enough to have a general blueprint of the corridors etched in his mind, as well as the basic rules they shared and protocols that were strictly followed. Stuff like how phone calls are prohibited, fatigued doctors specializing in emergency medicine are perpetually present, and how—for a place supposedly and rightfully dubbed with the ‘emergency’ title—the staff sure don’t seem to have a whole lot of sense of urgency.

Although he supposes he’d rather have that than be in a room teeming with frantic energy. Maybe they’re doing it on purpose, actually, for the sake of the patients who get rolled in.

Except right now, he was not a patient.

He was technically not a guardian, either, though the disheveled-looking middle-aged man blatantly staring at him from a few rows up front is most definitely thinking otherwise.

Well, then.

Acutely aware of the unwanted attention, Bakugou shifts uncomfortably in his seat, wincing ever so slightly when the connected metal chairs to his right creak loudly with the motion. It doesn’t help that he’s still in his hero clothes—although he’s aware there’s no point in mulling over it now; after all, he didn’t exactly have the time to do a costume change with all the shit that went down.

Not that he’s exactly sure what that ‘shit’ even was.

It all happened too fast.

One minute, he was walking down his regular patrol route down Shizuoka’s famous tallest bridge—cursing the unbearable summer heat and the dehydration-induced headaches that it brought with it; the next, he was jumping off of it.

He even boosted himself with his quirk to aid gravity in his free fall, but to no avail.

Your body had already collided with the ground by the time he could grab your wrist.

The moments that passed after that are even more of a blur now. He doesn’t know how he did it, but after what seemed like an eternity of merely staring at your limp, bloody body, Bakugou was able to pull out his phone and call 119. The medics arrived shortly after, maybe in a span of five minutes, but to him it felt like more.

It took everything within him not to just haul your body and propel you to the nearest hospital.

Because if someone died under his watch…

“Mr. Dynamight?”

Bakugou startles, looking up from where he was blankly staring at his intertwined, scarred hands. At the sight of a white coat-clad woman, the pro-hero immediately stands up, nodding, turning to face the brunette with his full attention.

“Hi,” the doctor greets, “It’s come to my understanding that you’re the one who called in regarding Patient—” she trails off, looking down at her clipboard to double-check, before saying your name in a question. “Is that right?”

“Yes,” Bakugou rasps roughly, before clearing his throat and trying again. “Uh, yes, doc.”

The doctor nods. “Were you on patrol when you found her?”

Close, the voice in Bakugou’s head retorts without missing a beat. I saw her fucking jump.

Instead of saying all that out loud, however, the ash-blonde only nods wordlessly.

The woman hums. “Okay, then. Well, her parents are still on the way here, and normally we’d let them know first, but given the nature of your involvement and your occupation, I might as well inform you.”

Instantly, Bakugou finds himself bracing for what’s next.

The doctor presses her lips in a thin line.

“I’m sorry,” she starts, shaking her head solemnly. “She didn’t make it.”

Dead on arrival.

You were dead on arrival.

At least, that’s what the doctors told him when he pressed them for more. He couldn’t tell if they were hesitant about divulging further information about you aside from the basics or just simply in the dark themselves, seeing as how they only had your wallet that they found on your person to go from. Either way, Bakugou decided it didn’t matter as soon as an older couple burst through the doors of the emergency room—a good half hour later—whom he immediately identified as your parents.

Needless to say, he hightailed it out of there.

The last thing he needed was to be the unfortunate bearer of bad news, or worse, be recognized as the reason why their daughter is currently lying lifeless in one of the hospital’s private rooms.

After that, he couldn’t remember much of his actions, only that he somehow decided to head to the agency. The entire flight down to his office, he stuck his good ear out for any signs of ringing from his phone, which surprisingly—or unsurprisingly—didn’t come.

Which makes sense.

He’s heard stories before. Exchanged in hushed whispers back in the UA dormitory, and uttered in low voices in the agencies he worked at as a sidekick. About how suicide cases in the country are criminally underreported—not just because of the stigma surrounding the act, but because the police allegedly make it a point to conceal such cases, away from the media’s prying eyes and before it gets blown out of proportion by the public.

Hakamada told him it was most likely to prevent the occurrence of suicide clusters, to which Bakugou scoffed instinctively, granting him a reprimanding look from his mentor.

But really, could anyone blame him?

The idea seemed stupid then.

If he killed himself for whatever reason, he sure didn’t want his death to be treated as some sort of curse, talked about only when people think no one’s watching.

There’s nothing more pitiful than fading away without leaving a single trace, after all.

But now, as he sits in the quiet dark of his agency’s office—the building silent if not for the gentle whirring of his air conditioner—Bakugou finds himself oddly grateful.

Because…

Because.

He wouldn’t know what he’d do if he had to face the press about what just happened.

He’s not sure how long he sat spaced out in his office, but by the time he’s inserting his lone copy of his key into the door knob, it’s already two hours past midnight, and the exhaustion from the day’s events has finally made itself known in the form of muscle aches and a throbbing migraine.

Bakugou doesn’t try to fight the sigh of relief that wracks his body the second he hears the lock click, his movements automatic as he pushes the door open with his side, left hand reaching out in the dark until it lands on and presses against the switch.

As if on cue, light floods the living room slash kitchen of Bakugou’s apartment unit, a sight so mundanely familiar that he doesn’t even blink at first.

Just—drags his aching feet towards the foyer where he toes off his sneakers and drops his duffel bag, which he swears he’ll collect the first thing tomorrow morning.

But then that’s when it happens.

Bakugou barely catches it—the movement at the corner of his eye—but he does.

And when he does—glance to look at it—he blanches.

Because sitting on his sofa is no other than a ghost.

˗ˏˋ while likes are appreciated, they don’t do much on tumblr! if you want to support me and writers in general, reblogs, replies, and tags are the way to go. feel free to drop an ask, too—i’d love to chat. have a nice day! ´ˎ

[yoyowrites]

au where qijiuyuan were childhood friends

like qijiu were on the streets and sy was the son of a merchant family, one that is not super rich but doing well enough. sy was the only son. when his parents were working, he'd sometimes sneak out and thats how he met qijiu.

sj is very prickly and is close to biting this privilege soft pretty boy. yq managed to calm sj down (though sy was no help. he is very much a poke the bear). sy and sj are actually the same age. they form a strong bond. one yq didn't quite understand considering the two fought like wildcats one moment and be laughing like life long friends.

they often jokingly put yue qi in the middle of it, leaving him flustered at time.

("how could you say that?" shen jiu gave a high mocking gasp. "qi-ge did you hear him?"

"qi-ge, he actually started it," shen yuan crossed his arms haughtily. "I'm right, aren't i?"

yue qi didn't get the chance to respond before shen jiu was pinching shen yuan's leg while claiming only he could call qi-ge, qi-ge)

sy would often bring them medicine and food whenever he could. he'd offered to the two of them to try to get his parents to take them in or find someone else. unfortunately, sy's family fell on hard times and they were forced to move in order to continue staying afloat

it happened nearly instantly. it was almost like they were fleeing something. sy actually had to runaway in the middle of the night to say goodbye to qijiu. he wasn't barely holding it together and begging them to know that he was going back for them. he promised them.

it was a promise he wouldn't get the chance to follow through on. shortly after sy leaves, sj is forced in the qiu manor.

--

years later, sj is in cqm, no thanks to either of those traitors. sy is not a part of cqm but he is a cultivator from a different peak. he and yq had very recently reconnected but then yq had gone in to qi deviation and then the qiu manor had burned so qiyuan were starting to mourn when sj appeared.

anyways, sj is angry at the two of them and assumes they both abandoned him.

later, sj is a peak lord. sy is also one, he joined cqm shortly after sj was found. sy is a beast peak lord.

yq and sy end up bonding over their guilt and worry over sj but go about it in different ways. yqy is indulgent overly so. sy is extremely annoying. he's constantly poking fun at sj, trying to go back to how they were.

yqy is worried abt pushing sj away but sy does a great job in getting closer to sj again.

yqy is nearly in tears when his door is slammed open and sy appears holding a (likely venomous) bird like creature.

"qi-ge! look what he did!" shen yuan gives an exaggerated pout. "my baby is hurt."

"do not call him that," shen jiu chides from behind a fan. "he is our sect leader, not your qi-ge. anyways, this one did nothing without cause."

maybe there is hope for them to go back to how it was before.

_

sy absolutely does not allow binghe to be abused. he's there when sj sees him and sy puts his foot down. (he doesn't know how bad sj would get but he knows his shen jiu is not to get his hands on this boy). shen jiu pouts and ignores them for a month but eventually lets it go.(yqy nearly bends to transferring lbh during that month but sy was there every step of the way to stop him).

so, lbh grew up under lqg. though he did cross paths sj often because lqg and sj are often at odds.

[thepoliticalvulcan]

I agree with this on the level of harm reduction. It is every voter’s responsibility to be informed and to prudently weigh the consequences of this or that side winning.

On that level when you have absolute ghouls who could come back to power like Pompeo and Huckabee with a nightmare eschatology focused around goading Israel into fulfilling a doomsday prophecy to bring Jesus back, the potential for greater suffering is huge.

And yet this particular form of consequentialism ignores other frameworks and ways of understanding voter behavior and motives. Not to mention it absolves the parties themselves of any responsibility of being in dialogue with their voters.

If the answer to that challenge is that the Democratic Party was in dialogue with its voters and due to the composition of the coalition, what we saw out of the administration, the Biden - Harris campaign, the Harris - Walz campaign, and the convention is their version of threading a needle, okay fine. One I don’t buy it and two even if that was the best they could do to keep the coalition together, I think we need to talk about how blocs function.

Right now the Democratic Party is freaking out over its issues with young men, especially young men without college degrees.

Why is it freaking out? Because they believe that category helped throw the election to Trump via their unwillingness to vote or their willingness to vote for Trump.

Now the party is spending tens of millions to study how to approach young men while many pundits and electeds experiment with changes in affect and policy.

We can debate what it is young men want, whether it’s actually good, and if Democrats trying to pivot to flatter them will be effective or an absolute disaster that alienates more voters than it brings into the tent. But if young men wanted to send a message with their vote (or non-vote) a signal has been received loud and clear and the Democrats are desperately trying to decode that signal and find an actionable message within the noise.

Anti-war motivated voters were not merely ignored, even moderate, patriotic Palestinian American success stories were denied any sort of visible role at the DNC for fear they would do or say something off script.

So by November they had a choice and it was an absolute nightmare of a trolley problem.

Vote Democrat, stay inside the tent, hope to have some small amount of influence but also risk the very real probability that Democratic elites could safely ignore this element of the coalition in perpetuity and threaten them with ostracism and culpability for whatever the prayer warriors inside the JD Vance wing of the GOP wound up doing should they win.

Or don’t.

Vote third party, vote Republican, don’t vote and gamble that the GOP won’t win or that if it did win the notoriously vain Trump would seize upon this influx of new voters, revel in their imagined praise, and temper his love affair with Netanyahu and the “Greater Israel” crowd.

And if it all went to hell anyway then they might be able to tell themselves that they taught Dems their votes cannot be taken for granted if electoral politics survived to 2028. In the long run, MAYBE a chastened Democratic Party would be more amenable to the anti-war crowd, resulting in a grim trade of more lives lost and devastated now for more lives spared in the future.

Such feverish speculation and wishcasting is why I’m increasingly skeptical of trying to project more than a single electoral cycle into the future. Especially since my estimation is that this is the worst of all worlds for “Greater Israel” opponents in the US: not only does the GOP not even remotely care about Muslims, is actively trying to deport the most vocal, and seems content to assist in depopulating Gaza: the Democrats also don’t give a damn because their new love affair is with alienated young men.

But on an emotional level, I get it. The choices were awful, and the so called “good guys” were behaving at peak levels of paternalism and disingenuousness. So why not take a big swing and hope for the best?

I mean, the very predictable reality we are now living in is why, but I also don’t see where anti-war voters had a lot of options besides accept they were being sidelined or demonstrate that they were prepared to use the nuclear option and withhold their votes: the last and final thing any bloc can do in democracy if their inter-election canvassing and persuasion efforts fall short of persuading major stakeholders.

I don’t have it in me to be mad at them for rolling the dice.

I've said it before and I'll say it again.

Palestine is to the alt left as abortion is to the alt right. All other policy is irrelevant as long as you support the important cause.

This is just not how politics should be working. If you want a functioning system, you cannot reduce your entire voting behaviour to a single issue. It's so easy to do, but that's not how the world works and as we have seen time and time again, it causes absolute carnage if the result of a vote becomes determined by a single issue whcih causes people to ignore the actual aims in a party' manifesto

[artstennisracket]

Sativa! ib: sativa by jhene aiko please listen while you read!

author’s note: this is a collab fic i made with ava (@tacobacoyeet) bc she’s the one i always bring music inspo to when I hear a song and it makes me want to write bc ik she’ll understand. when I brought this idea to her she helped me flesh out the idea and the rest was history. i love her so much it’s ridiculous and we each wrote 2 parts each and melded them together so I hope you guys enjoy!

summary: You can’t take it anymore. The stuffy dresses, the snobby people, you need to escape yet another event rich people only go to in order to flaunt their wealth. So you text the one person you think might be able to save you.

pairing: patrick x fem!reader

warnings: nsfw (18+), drug use, fingering, p in v, smoking while fucking

i know you won’t leave me hanging, smoking weed out the container

The champagne tasted like boredom. Flat, expensive, and trying far too hard to be impressive. You took another sip anyway, because it gave your hands something to do, and because the flute made a nice little clink when it tapped against the gold railing of the rooftop terrace.

Below, the gala sprawled in all its glittering misery—crystal chandeliers, murmurs over chamber music, men in tuxedos with cufflinks more expensive than most people’s rent. Women swanned around in couture like walking centerpieces, gloved hands clutching clutches, smiles sharp enough to slice a soufflé. Somewhere inside, a string quartet played a Vivaldi arrangement no one was truly listening to.

You’d made it exactly forty-two minutes before sneaking upstairs. Forty-two minutes of fake laughter, tight smiles, and your stepmother introducing you as "our little darling" like you were a rescue poodle. You knew this world inside and out—had grown up attending galas like this since you were old enough to toddle in patent leather shoes. It was all an exhausting pantomime. Your family’s wealth stretched back generations—old money, museum-donor, building-name-on-the-wing kind of money. And with that came expectation: charm, poise, silence, discipline. The good daughter. The pretty one. The polished porcelain kept on the top shelf.

But lately, the mask had started to slip. You weren’t sure when it began. Maybe it was the third boarding school, or the fourth therapist. Maybe it was the year you turned twenty and realized you didn’t care about charity auctions or legacy internships. You were supposed to inherit the world, and all you wanted was to escape it.

The dress tonight was Dior—custom-fitted, a shade of moonlit pearl that clung to your hips like obligation. Your hair had been twisted into something that would hurt by the end of the night, and you were wearing earrings that once belonged to your great-grandmother, the kind that required insurance. And none of it felt like yours.

You set the glass down and checked your phone.

Nothing from him.

Yet.

The screen glowed in the dim rooftop lighting. You opened your messages, thumb hovering. You shouldn’t. You really, really shouldn’t.

But your lungs itched, your throat burned for something more than champagne, and your skin felt too tight in this couture prison of a dress. You needed out. Not just from the party, but from the whole fucking night.

You opened your texts and scrolled until you found him.

you up?

A beat. Then another. Then:

i need to get out of here. i’m going to lose it.

are you close?

please.

You exhaled like you'd been holding your breath for the past hour, which… honestly? Maybe you had.

Another 20 minutes pass by and you started to give up hope. Maybe he was already sleeping. Or just with another girl or guy or whatever. Clearly you were not getting saved by your knight in shining armor. Until your phone buzzes once more.

im outside

You down another glass of champagne before making your way outside. He was here, in his 2007 Honda CR-V. Still fairly new, only a few years old. But a punishment from his parents nonetheless, for crashing his BMW the summer after highschool ended.

Climbing into the passenger side and shutting the door behind you, you can already tell what he had been doing that night, “So you’re not gonna share?”

He laughs, pulling away from the venue to park in an empty parking lot. “Been here less than 2 minutes and you’re already making demands. I rolled a fresh new joint just for you, princess.” It’s demeaning. A nickname he gave to you after a different late night smoke session where you opened your heart out about how being in this uppity world feels. Yet it still fuels the pit in desire you feel in your stomach. It’s been building for some time now.

He smirks, leaning over to open the glove box. He takes out his grinder, rolling tray, and rolling papers. He takes a little baggy out of his hoodie pocket and gets to work. You watch him intently. He’s focused. More than focused that he ever was at school or his latest tennis matches. He takes this craft seriously. More seriously than the craft that’s supposed to pay his bills.

Licking the paper to place his final seal, “The perfect joint. Best one I’ve rolled all week,” he murmurs. Holding it between two fingers with the mouth end facing you. You take it from him expectantly, placing it between your lips loosely. He takes out the roach he had tucked on top of his ear like a pencil to bring to his lips. Lighting it up, being careful not to burn his fingers.

You look at him, eyelids low with fake annoyance, head tilted in waiting. He knows you never carried lighters. You didn’t smoke enough to. You don’t smoke without him. This was maybe the third time you ever have. With your back pressed against the car door and your body shifted so you can face him. He rolls his eyes, leaning over the center console to light the joint between your lips.

You take a drag, blowing the smoke directly in his face. He smiles, finishing the roach to toss it out the window. You knew it would be long before he asked for yours.

“You’re getting good at that. Be careful, people might think you’re a stoner.”

“Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad,” He can hear the glint of mischief in your voice. But there’s was something deeper underneath. Tier to your utter dislike of the world you had to live in. Fancy parties, gallery opening, charity benefits. Appearances meaning everything. Your parents planning out every step of your life. You having no say. You’re sure they wouldnt be happy about this. This was not apart of their plan.

He studies you for a second too long. The curve of your cheek in the streetlight. The way your gown is folded awkwardly in the cramped seat, hitched up just enough to show the expensive sheen of your thigh. Smoke curls from your lips like you were born for it. He swallows something that tastes a lot like trouble. There’s a flicker of something darker in his eyes—like he’s watching a secret unfold just for him. Like the sight of you in his world, already a little undone, is his favorite kind of victory.

You glance at him, eyes narrowed. "What?"

He shrugs, feigning nonchalance. "Just thinking how funny it is. You, sitting in my busted-ass car, looking like that."

You smile lazily, teeth barely showing. "Maybe I like busted things."

His gaze drops to your mouth. "That right?"

You take another drag. Hold it. Blow it slow, right past his lips. He doesn’t move.

The tension is thick—coated in weed smoke and something warmer. Hungrier. Your hand lowers, brushing the edge of the console, knuckles grazing his. Not on purpose. Not really.

But you don’t pull away.

His fingers shift just slightly, meeting yours. It’s barely a touch—more suggestion than contact—but it shoots heat up your arm like he’d kissed the inside of your wrist. You can feel the air change, the quiet crackle between you.

He doesn't look at you right away, just passes his joint back with a casual, "You good?"

You nod. You take it from him and inhale deep, holding it for a beat too long, eyes locked on the slouch of his shoulders, the lazy way his legs are spread. When you hand it back, your fingers brush again. Deliberately.

His mouth quirks. Not quite a smile. Not yet.

The tips of his fingers trail from your knuckles up to your wrist—lazy, exploratory, like he’s just thinking out loud with touch. He taps the back of your hand gently, then lets his fingers slide up the soft skin of your forearm, featherlight.

Your breath hitches. Just once.

He leans in. “Princess,” he says low, amused. “You’re fidgeting.”

“Am I?”

“You’re squirming.”

You meet his eyes. Challenge blooming in your chest. “And what if I am?”

He lets his fingers keep going. Slow and smug. “Then I’d say you’re high. Or bored. Or...” His hand brushes the bare skin above your knee now. "Just looking for a better way to pass the time."

You don’t answer.

Because you know exactly which one it is.

You shift a little closer. Your knees could touch now—just barely. The air between you is humid with tension and weed and your perfume, some expensive jasmine blend that clings to your skin and his memory.

His hand lingers at your thigh, but this time it doesn’t just brush—it settles. Warm, solid, fingers splayed casually like they belong there. He watches your face the whole time, like he’s waiting for you to flinch. You don’t.

You lean forward again. Not for the joint. For him.

His breath catches before he can school it. You’re so close now, he could count your lashes, could taste the ghost of champagne on your breath if he dared to lean just half an inch more.

You tilt your head. “Still think I’m fidgeting?”

He laughs, but it’s quiet. Strained. A little rough. "No."

Then you swing one leg over the center console. Onto his lap. Slow. Intentional. Your dress rides up, the fabric pooling around your thighs as you settle, straddling him in the front seat like it's the most natural place in the world.

His breath catches—like he can't believe you're actually doing it. Or maybe like he can, because he knew you'd end up here eventually. They always do, when he pulls just right.

His hands go to your hips automatically. Instinct.

And now you're both holding your breath.

His hands grip your hips a little tighter—firm, possessive, like he’s trying to memorize the shape of you. Your hands find his shoulders, warm under the hoodie, and you press into him just slightly, enough to make his breath stutter. His head tips back against the seat, and that’s all the invitation you need.

You kiss him.

It’s slow at first. Curious. His lips part with a quiet sigh against yours, and your fingers curl into the fabric at his shoulders. You kiss him like you’ve been meaning to for a while, like you’re tasting the idea of him. Weed and mint gum and something soft, unexpected. He hums into your mouth, one hand sliding up your back, finding the zipper of your dress but not tugging—just resting there, like a promise.

Then he kisses you back like he’s starving.

His mouth moves against yours with a sudden urgency, teeth grazing your lower lip, his other hand gripping your thigh hard enough to make you gasp. You shift in his lap and feel him already hard beneath you, and it makes you move again—just enough to draw a reaction. He groans into your mouth.

“You’re gonna kill me,” he mutters, breath warm against your cheek.

“Shut up,” you whisper, kissing him again, deeper this time, rolling your hips once—twice—until he’s cursing and dragging you closer.

His hands slide up your thighs, thumbs pressing into the soft skin just beneath where your dress has ridden up. He pushes it higher, bunching the delicate fabric around your waist, exposing you fully to his hands, to his eyes, to the heat blooming between you.

“You’re seriously in Dior right now,” he says, voice low and wrecked, eyes flicking down to where the silk is gathered around your hips.

“And you’re seriously hard in sweatpants,” you shoot back, breathless.

He laughs, sharp and dizzy, before pulling you into another kiss—this one filthier, deeper, with his hand sliding beneath the hem of your panties like he’s done it a hundred times before.

And maybe, in his head, he has.

Your head falls forward onto his shoulder as his fingers find exactly where you’re already wet for him. “Fuck,” he says into your hair. “You’re soaked.”

“Yeah,” you breathe, mouth at the base of his throat. “So do something about it.”

He does.

Patrick’s fingers start slow—just the faintest brush along your slit, dragging through the wetness he found like he has all the time in the world. He presses his forehead to yours, eyes half-lidded, watching every little twitch of your mouth, the way your lashes flutter when he circles your clit with the pad of his finger.

You grind down into his hand, chasing pressure, but he pulls back just a touch. Not enough to stop, just enough to make you feel how deliberately he’s holding back. “Pat—”

“Shhh,” he breathes, kissing the corner of your mouth. “Let me take my time with you.”

One finger slips inside, slow and deep. Your jaw goes slack. You cling to his hoodie, nails digging in, and he groans at the feel of you clenching down around him already.

“So fucking tight,” he murmurs, kissing your neck now, biting softly just below your jaw. “You get like this at every gala, or just when you’re slumming it with me?” His voice drips with something filthy—amusement, maybe. Or pride. Like he likes knowing he’s the one who makes you forget what you’re supposed to be.

You don’t answer. Can’t. Not when he’s curling his finger just right, when his thumb is back on your clit, drawing soft, steady circles that make your thighs shake.

He adds a second finger, and you gasp—hips jerking, breath hitching. “There she is,” he says, mouth ghosting over your collarbone. “Knew you’d let go for me.”

“All that polish and pedigree, and you’re falling apart in my lap,” he whispers, more to himself than you. Like he’s savoring it.

The rhythm is relentless but controlled. He fucks you with his fingers like he’s playing a game he’s already mastered—like he’s memorized every sound you make and exactly what each one means. Your hips start moving without thought, chasing every press of his hand, every graze of his knuckles.

“Patrick,” you gasp. It’s all you can manage—his name, like a warning.

He slows. Eyes locked on yours. Thumb easing off your clit.

“Not here,” he says, voice low and wrecked. “Not like this.”

You blink at him, dazed.

“I want you,” he breathes, pressing a kiss to your jaw, then another just below your ear. “But I want space. I want to lay you out. You deserve more than cramped angles and my fucking center console digging into you.”

You exhale shakily, heart racing. Then you smirk.

“Isn’t that what the backseat’s for?”

His eyes darken. Your answer hits him like a spark to dry tinder. He smiles, crooked and dangerous. “Yeah. That’s exactly what it’s for.”

“After you Princess,” he nods towards the space between the two front seats. You made your way to the backseat as gracefully as you could, crawling between two car seats. You stop to sit on the center console with your back facing him.

Moving your hair so the dress zipper is exposed, he gets the message, unzipping your dress. Taking his time. His eyes follow from the nape of your neck all the way down your now exposed spine. He traces lightly, fingers ghosting the slight curve of your spine. All the way down until he stops right above the waistband of your panties, “No bra?” he questions barely above a whisper.

You continue pulling your dress and panties off until you’re left in nothing. Leaving both articles of clothing abandoned in the passenger seat where you once sat. Before making your way to the back seat finally.

You sit on the right side, back pressed against the soft cushiony seat. You could sit here and explain the intricacies of Women’s clothing and the decision making process behind when to wear a bra and when not to, but instead you opt for the more fitting, “Are you complaining?”

It’s more of a rhetorical question. His eyes are already locked on your exposed boobs, nipples hardening from the light chill of the AC. His eyes drag across your body until he reaches your eyes. Smirking just to add, “Me? Complain about you? Never.” Rolling your eyes to hide how the light sarcasm in his tone is turning you on more than it should.

He follows, sitting right next to you. Clothed thigh pressed against your bare one, but not for long. He takes off his hoodie (no t-shirt underneath, shocker), sweatpants, and boxer briefs, with a sense of urgency.

He pulls you into his lap so you’re straddling him, mirroring the position you were just in minutes ago. You both lock eyes. His eyes roam your face like he’s trying to immortalize this moment. Cradling the back of your jaw, while grazing his thumb across your bottom lip. Without a second thought, you open your mouth slowly. Maintaining that eye contact while sucking his thumb into your mouth.

He sucks in a breath, subconsciously biting his bottom lip. You suckle his thumb, swirling your tongue around it, tasting yourself. The grip on your waist tightens, his fingertips digging into your skin and pulling you closer. Letting his hardness slide back and forth between your folds aided by your slick. A small whimper caught in your throat as his tip catches against your clit.

You see the way his eyes darken despite being surrounded by the darkness of the night. Like a switch flips in his head, he can’t wait any longer.

He cradles the back of your head as he changes positions, laying you down on the seats while he hovers over you. Slowly pushing inside you so you could really feel him filling you up inch by inch. You can feel the way your body stretches to accommodate his size. Your walls gripping him, sucking him in, in a way that makes his jaw tense. “Fucking hell,” he mumbles against the crook of your neck where his head had fallen.

“Patrick,” you gasp as he bottoms out. Nails digging into his upper back pulling another moan out of him. He starts his strokes off slow. Like he’s trying to savor the moment. Or maybe he’s trying to ingrain his spot in your body.

He lifts his head up, green eyes meeting yours. The sliver of light descending from the street light cascades across his face, allowing you to really see him for the first time tonight. You always used to tease him saying his eyes were actually hazel and not green, but up close you can tell he was right. Freckles sprayed over his face. They were your favorite physical feature about him, but you’d never tell him that. His brow was furrowed, the effort he was exerting visible. Sweat starting to form as he picks up the pace, “Fuck Princess, you’re so fucking tight. Gonna be the end of me I swear.” Not a hint of sarcasm behind the nickname.

Moans falling past your lips after he adjusts his angle to hit that spongy spot inside of you. But you can’t let him think he’s got you, yet, “Don’t tell me you’re close already,” you try to say as smooth as you can but the breathiness laced in your words gives you away.

He pulls out, making you whine at the loss. Wiping the sweat on his forehead before grabbing your hips to flip you over. Slumped over with your head resting on the seat while your ass sticks up in the air. He pushes back inside of you, quick and easy with how wet you are , “Big words for someone who’s dripping for my cock.”

He takes a moment. You can hear the lighter spark twice behind you, followed by the light sizzle of Patrick taking a drag from the previously forgotten joint. He keeps one hand on your hip, pulling you back to meet his thrusts over and over again. Other hand free to help him continue smoking.

You can’t see him, but the mental image combined with him assaulting that perfect spot inside of you is getting you really close to the edge, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Patrick! I’m so ah—you’re so deep.”

He takes another drag, not letting up on his pace, “Yeah does it feel good? Me fucking my cock so deep inside you. Shit. Taking it so well.”

You nod, the side of your face dragging against the fabric of the car seat. You’re slamming your hips back to continue meeting his thrusts while you move one hand underneath you to start playing with your clit. Rubbing back and forth, Patrick’s balls slapping against your folds while his cock presses up against your g-spot and, “Ah ah I’m coming, fuck Patrick. I’m coming, I’m coming oh fuck.”

“There we go,” he grunts as your walls spasm around his cock. He places what’s left of the joint in a cup holder before gripping your hips with both hands so he can finish. Using your body to get off, your slick and cum starting to pool around the base of his cock. A few more hard thrusts and, “Shit baby, so fucking hot. Came all over my dick ah, m’gonna cum. Your tight fucking pussy ah—shit, fuck Princess, fuck,” he’s spilling inside you. Staying all the way pressed inside, ensuring you take it all.

After he pulls out, his hands rest on your ass. Fingers spread over your cheeks as he holds you open to stare at where he’s filled you up. Still trying to even out his breathing, “I don’t have any napkins or wipes in here.”

Blissed out from your orgasm you just hum in acknowledgment. Lazily you start, “So how am I gonna—“ you get caught off by the feeling of Patrick’s tongue diving into your hole. It’s slow and deliberate. Half like he’s trying to clean you up and half like he’s trying to make another mess. You wince from the overstimulation but whimper from the pleasure. “Patrick,” you whine. Subconsciously pushing back on his tongue a little bit. It didn’t take long until you were clean (debatable). The cum being replaced with spit.

He leans back to sit, grabbing the joint and lighter again before resting against the car door. You maneuver yourself so you’re sitting next to him. He throws his arm over your shoulder, pulling your face towards his chest. You watch in silence as he sparks the joint once again. Taking a drag before wordlessly placing the joint at your lips. You inhale while he holds it, exhaling after he moves it away.

You both sit there in silence. Skin to skin. You can hear the steady rhythm on his heart beat from where your ear is pressed against his chest. Silence broken by Patrick after another drag, “Wanted to do that since forever.”

“The fucking me part or the smoking while fucking me part?”

“Both,” he lets out a low chuckle. Giving you the last hit before he rolls down the window to toss out the roach and air out the mixture of smells in his car, sweat, weed, and sex.

taglist: @tacobacoyeet @newrochellechallenger2019 @antxnxlla @hanneh69 @urmomsucksfrogs @ctrl-mari @cha11engers @jesuistrestriste @imperishablereverie @shahabaqsa0310 @destinedtobegigi @ghostgirl-22 @artaussi @nozhdyved @asteroid-yuri @sweetheartfaist @jordiemeow @hangels @elsieblogs

[obx-may]

Together -Rafe Cameron

warnings: unplanned pregnancy, lots of fluff at the beginning, angst with a happy ending, self doubt (rafe), comfort, excessive alcohol consumption.

summary: after telling rafe he was going to be a father you were surprised with how well he took it, though when he felt the first kick everything got a little to real and he freaked out, leaving you crying in your shared apartment and hoping that he’d come back to you.

notes: this is an unofficial part two to this fic that i wrote a little while ago (which you don’t need to read to understand this). i’m stuck on ideas so i decided to just add to that original story! hope you enjoy angels🧸🤍🫶🏼 - this is a long one for me so strap in!

The first few weeks after telling Rafe were hard. You were so stressed about telling your family and everyone on the island possibly whispering about how stupid you could’ve been to get knocked up at such a young age. But Rafe was always there to reassure you.

He was surprisingly calm and collected. He was nervous, anyone would be in that situation but he kept himself together for you.

“It’s okay baby, let it all out.” He’d whisper as you battled morning sickness, one hand on your back rubbing soft circles as the other held the hair out of your face.

He held you when you cried and sobbed about how you were just so scared. He’d let you talk before reassuring you, “I’m here, we’re going to be okay. We can do this.”

When you eventually broke the news to your and his parents he held your hand and did as much of the talking as you wanted him too.

Ward was disappointed, Rose managed to crack a fake smile, you were so relieved when your mother pulled you into a hug and told you she’d be there for you, even though your father sat straight and glared at Rafe with rage in his eyes.

Eventually he calmed down and after around a week he became accustomed to the idea. You knew he was accepting when you were going to spend the night at Rafe’s house and before you left he said, “now you be carful driving on those roads, it’s been raining and you’ve got my grand baby in there.” He gestured to your stomach. You hugged him and he hugged you back, which is something the both of you didn’t know you needed.

After that Rafe proposed moving in together. He knew it was inevitable so he said he’d rather be settled at a place when the baby arrives than scrambling last minute.

Within a few weeks he - with the help of Ward - had found and bought an apartment, it was spacious yet cosy. Three bedrooms, two bathrooms, an open plan kitchen and living room with a sweet little balcony overlooking the sea. It was perfect.

News spread fast once you went to your first appointment, told your friends and began to show - just slightly but it was there.

The stories were ridiculous. “She baby trapped him for the money.” “I heard it’s not even Rafes.” “She’s faking it for attention.”

You tried not to think about it too much and Rafe helped with that. Though sometimes he made the situation significantly worse by reacting to the stares when you were out. “What the fuck are you looking at punk? Huh? That’s what I thought.” His excuse always being that he was just protecting his girl, which you didn’t argue with.

Your old life was completely gone, being pregnant meant no drinking, partying or staying up late since you were always exhausted anyway.

Though Rafe on the other hand did continue his drinking and partying late, just now without you by his side.

You were pleased at first. You hadn’t wanted him to give up all the tings he did before since you thought he’d be much worse if he had to suddenly change his lifestyle.

Unfortunately, at some point - actually around the time you started to show and a small bump formed on your stomach - it got excessive.

You brushed it off at first, the coming home at two in the morning completely plastered, the increasing nights spent at the country club with Topper and Kelce, but you now realised he was beginning to slip away from you.

Arguments about his behaviour became a reoccurring thing. You cried all the time, though he was never there to hold you and tell you everything was going to be fine like he would’ve in the beginning.

Something had changed in him but you couldn’t understand why.

You felt so alone. Pregnancy is weird like that, even though you’re actually never alone because you constantly have a little human in your stomach it makes you feel like you are, even when there’s people around you who do care.

One night, you heard Rafe stumble through the door as usual. The door to your shared bedroom swinging open just moments later. “Hey baby,” he murmured drunkenly.

You sat on the bed, leaning against the headboard with your knees to your chest, tear marks on your face.

His brows furrowed as he immediately sobered up a little, noticing your state.

He sat on the side of the bed. You flinched when he went to place his hand on your leg. “y/n-”

“I’m going to live with my parents for a while,” you blurted out, voice shaky.

“You’re- what?” He was surprised, caught off guard.

“We- no I need some space. In five months we’re going to have a baby Rafe and you’re off getting drunk twenty four seven. I’m tired and I don’t know what’s happened to my Rafe. The one who took care of me when I was sick, the one who reassured me when I was scared, the one who actually seemed like he loved me-” your sentence broke with a sob, “I don’t recognise you.”

He sat there, blindsided. “I… yeah, maybe you should go stay with your parents,” he replied.

You couldn’t believe it. He really wasn’t going to fight for you? Not even a little bit?

With one nod you got off the bed and started to pack. Was it two o’clock in the morning? Yes. Could you spend even one more second in his company? No, no you couldn’t.

So you packed, left without another word and drove to your parent’s house.

Rafe remained in the same position on the bed. He’d fucked it all up.

In the following few weeks there was little to no contact between you and Rafe. It actually did you good to focus on yourself for a little while though after two weeks you were really starting to miss him.

One night, you were sat on the floor of your childhood bedroom folding your laundry when your phone rang.

It was Rafe. You took a deep breath and answered the call, bringing it to your ear.

“y/n?” Was the first thing he said but he didn’t give you time to respond, “I’m so sorry, I freaked out okay? I love you so much and I know I want this with you. This life, this baby, I want it all and I fucked it up. I’ve stopped drinking, I promise I’ll do better. Can you forgive me?”

You slowly took in his words. You knew what you were signing up for when you got with Rafe and you’d been through worse. “Of course I’ll forgive you, I always will because I love you Rafe. But if this happens again-”

“I know.” He knew he only had a limited number of chances and that you might not forgive him so easily next time.

After that night everything slowly but surely got back to normal. You moved back in, he went to your appointment with you where you found out it was going to be a little girl and he spent every night with you in his arms.

A week later you were mostly back into your usual routine. You woke up, took a shower with Rafe, he left for work and you had recently started a job that you could do from home so that’s what you spent your day doing.

His parents were rich and so were yours - everyone knew that - but the both of you wanted to live your own lives, not relying on your parents for everything, so that’s why you started working and you were slowly building your savings that would mostly go to things for your baby girl.

Hours later Rafe finally arrived home. He greeted you with a gentle peck on the lips before grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge.

He sat down next to you on the sofa and peered over at the website you were scrolling through on your laptop.

“Looking at cribs already?” He asked, before opening and then chugging some of his water.

“There’s a sale on - thirty percent off. I just thought I’d have a look,” you replied calmly.

“Get whichever one you want babe,” he mumbled before kissing your forehead and then standing up.

He got halfway to the bedroom to freshen up before you gasped.

He turned around quickly. “You alright?” He asked, slight panic in his voice.

“Come feel!”

He noticed as he moved towards you that you’d moved the laptop and now had your hand resting at the base of your stomach.

As soon as he was close enough you grabbed his hand and placed it where yours was.

“What- oh? Is that…?”

“She’s kicking! The doctor said it might take a while but she was starting to worry me, I’m so relieved,” you excitedly rambled.

He just stood there, slightly bend down, hand still on your stomach with an emotion you couldn’t quite read on his face.

“Rafe?” You questioned, brows furrowed, “are you okay-”

He pulled his hand away and stood up straight. “I just,” he cut you off, “I can’t- sorry.”

He glanced from your stomach up to your face without fully meeting your eyes then he turned and made b-line for the front door.

Leaving you, now stood in shock. What the hell just happened.

You tried to convince yourself that he’d just got a little overwhelmed and would come back in a minute.

A minute turned into thirty which turned into an hour and then two.

You were now a mess. Just when you thought you’d got him back he was slipping again.

You sat on your bed, head in your hands as you cried. The raging hormones causing through your body definitely weren’t helping the situation.

He’d left everything. His keys, his phone so you couldn’t even call him. You called Topper though, then Kelce, then Sarah, no one had seen or heard from him.

When the clock hit nine you were seriously worried. You decided you couldn’t just sit around any longer so you got up, slipped some shoes on, grabbed your keys and left the apartment.

Since he hadn’t gone to any of his friends or family you decided to go to his most frequented places.

First you went to the country club, he wasn’t there. Next you visited the beach by tanning hill, nope. Lastly you drove to the place you used to hang out at in your early teens, the place you shared your first kiss.

It was a long shot since it’d barely been mentioned since you left school but you were running out of options.

You parked at the bottom of the cliff edge and then walked the ten minutes up hill to get to the top.

By the time you reached it you were huffing and puffing. The baby now pushing down on your lungs meaning you were out of breath doing the simplest of tasks.

But it was all worth it because there he stood. Hands in his pockets, head bowed slightly as he stared out at the crashing waves below the cliff.

“Rafe?” You called from a few meters behind him.

He was quick to turn around, clearly not expecting you to have found him.

You approached him slowly, as if you were trying not to scare him off.

“What’re you doing up here? It’s almost dark,” he asked, his voice soft and quiet.

“I was looking for you dummy. You scared me,” you replied, now standing next to him with your hands crossed over your chest as the evening breeze passed over your skin.

He sighed, a deep, troubled sigh. “I’m sorry.”

You weren’t angry. “Talk to me Rafe,” you whispered gently.

“I’m worried,” he began.

You placed your hand on his arm, insinuating that he should continue.

“I’m worried I’m going to turn out like my dad,” he finally admitted.

Your heart sank.

“Look at me.”

He did, finally meeting your eyes.

“You are nothing like him. I know you, I know you’re going to be the best father. You already care so much and the fact you’re worried means you do. Your childhood wasn’t easy, I know, but that’s not us.”

He stared at you for a moment, waiting for you to laugh or take all that you said back but those things didn’t happen, all he found in your eyes was genuineness.

Rafe never had a way with words so instead he just leaned down and pressed your forehead against his.

“I love you so much,” you whispered, your breath ghosting over his lips.

“I love you more,” he replied, his voice full of emotion before he closed the gap between the two of you.

The kiss that you shared was full of love and relief.

His hands moved to grasp your waist as yours intertwined with the hair on the back of his head.

Once you pulled away the both of you were smiling, because in that moment you knew everything was going to be okay.

[misc-obeyme]

hello!! knock knock!! 👁‍🗨 is here to request something!!

I wonder how the brothers would feel towards an mc that bites them out of nowhere. not in a kinky way, but in a way to release their stress? lololol pretty self indulgent but sometimes my energy goes towards my mouth instead of my limbs so i would hopelessly bite the air to release some energy ⚡

i do imagine it being sudden since i imagine my mc to be the type to just hold (biting their own nails, sleeves, etc), but it's totally up to you!

Ohhh heeyy there, 👁‍🗨 anon!! Sorry this is sooo late hopefully you're still around to see it 😩

Anyway, I hope this is kind of what you were meaning? It's a short little scene but it has all the brothers (though only two of them get bitten lol).

MC & all the bros

Warnings: none though there is some biting obviously and just the usual brotherly antics

It had been a long day at RAD, as usual. Not only did you have your hands full keeping the brothers in line as usual, but you had also had to prevent Solomon from getting involved in a cooking assignment in home economics. Not to mention the piles of homework and upcoming tests that were looming. You were a bit stressed, but you were doing your best to keep it all under control.

Thankfully, it wasn't your night to help make dinner or clean up. So you had a moment to sit at the table with the brothers, satisfied with the food that Satan had made.

Lucifer was currently lecturing Belphegor, who had fallen asleep in his pancakes that morning and who was not listening now, while Asmo and Levi were having a lively discussion about the aesthetics of DevilTube streamers. The discussion was beginning to escalate into something closer to an argument, but you tried to keep your focus on your food.

Biting into your black tapir helped a bit, but it wasn't enough. You felt the energy building inside of you at the continued noise.

When you couldn't contain yourself anymore, you turned to the brother nearest to you and bit down on his arm.

"Ow! What're ya doin', MC!"

It turned out that Mammon was the recipient of your random need to bite and he was currently trying to shake you off of him.

Asmo's attention left Levi entirely as he giggled. "Shouldn't you save that kind of behavior for the bedroom, MC?"

Beel, who was sitting on your other side, leaned over the table to look at you better. "I think they're just hungry."

"How can they be hungry when there's a plate of dinner sitting right in front of them?" Satan asked, gesturing to the plate that indeed still had quite a bit of that evening's meal on it.

"Haven't you ever gotten hungry while you were eating?" Beel asked.

"No, Beel," Belphie said. "Most people don't know what that's like."

Beel seemed confused. "Then what is going on with MC?"

You listened to this conjecture, but you didn't feel as though you had the presence of mind to let go just yet. So of course you couldn't answer their questions when your mouth was full.

"It seems to be a stress response," Lucifer said.

All the other brothers looked at him in surprise.

Lucifer frowned and folded his arms. "Don't look at me like that," he said. "I've learned a lot about humans since MC has come to stay with us. My understanding is that sometimes when they're stressed, they release that stress in unusual ways. Just let MC bite you, Mammon."

Mammon had stopped trying to dislodge you. He pointed across the table at Asmo. "If you and Levi hadn't been arguin' this never woulda happened!"

"You can't blame us!" Asmo said.

"Yeah!" Levi put in. "How do you know it wasn't Lucifer's droning lecture about not falling asleep in your food?"

As they devolved into further arguing, Mammon whimpered a bit as you clamped down a little harder.

"Stop arguin'!" he yelled. "You're makin' it worse!"

Everyone fell silent.

Beel put a hand on your shoulder. "It's okay, MC," he said. "If you need to bite someone, you should bite me. I have plenty of muscle, I won't even feel it."

"Are ya callin' me scrawny?" Mammon mumbled.

You considered this and realized Beel was probably right. You closed your eyes, tried to calm down a bit, and then released Mammon.

"Hey, I'm free!" he cried.

You sighed and leaned back in your chair. "Sorry," you said. "There's just been a lot going on lately."

"There, you see?" Lucifer said. "It was stress, as I said."

"Do you feel better now, MC?" Beel asked.

You frowned a little. "A bit, but…"

Beel was already rolling up his sleeve. He pointed at his arm. "This is the best spot," he said.

You almost laughed at his sincerity, but it also made you feel cared for. You bit down and he didn't even flinch.

It became an accepted thing. Now that they knew about this tendency of yours to decompress through biting, their main reaction to getting bitten was to worry about you. And Beel was always prepared to give a you a little snack, too, as he insisted it would help. And if you were honest, it usually did.

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

[kanalynn]

Percy Jackson x daughter of Dionysus! reader headcanons

a/n: these are just short headcanons that i wrote quickly without even checking. i hope it's not as bad as i think and you'll like it!

Percy first met [Name] on his first day at camp; he wasn't in the best of health, his mother had just died (or so he thought) and he was a demigod - but once he saw her, everything went to the wayside.

She was the prettiest and kindest girl he'd ever met - so much so that he spent a few moments just staring at her, blushing, wondering if he was dreaming.

(He really hoped he wasn't dreaming.)

[Name] was amazing - she was concerned about his well-being, she accompanied him around camp, she defended him to Annabeth - had he mentioned how amazing she was?

Percy fell in love with her instantly.

His feelings were terribly obvious - he was always trying to spend time with her or help her with something, and every time someone distracted her from him, he got upset.

When Percy found out the identity of his divine parent, [Name] was one of the few (if not the only one) who continued to communicate with him as if nothing had happened and supported him as best she could.

This made him fall in love with her even more.

It wasn't long before he found out that [Name]'s father was Mr. D, and it... well, it definitely came as a shock to him.

How could such an arrogant and unpleasant god have such a kind and sweet daughter?! Percy couldn't understand it.

It seriously took him a while to come to terms with that fact. As a result, he even decided to be more polite with Mr. D (!), so as not to upset [Name] and, perhaps, at least a little, please her father.

(Of course, it didn't work out... realizing that Percy was in love with his beloved and only daughter, Dionysus began to treat him as if a little more dismissive and hostile... In the end, after many years of Percy proving himself a loyal and brave hero, he softened, but, of course, he didn't show it.)

Thanks to [Name], Percy also managed to make friends with [Name]'s two older brothers - Castor and Pollux. He never thought that he would actually succeed, but the twins turned out to be good guys with whom he managed to become friends. Percy probably even helped them with their sword training.

[Name] had never been on quests - at least not official ones. It was probably some kind of trick by Dionysus to protect his daughter. Percy was only too happy about it - he didn't want [Name] to be in danger either.

When he was out on his own quests, he was constantly thinking about [Name], and wanted to get back to camp as soon as possible.

Percy is in awe of [Name]'s ability to grow grapes, strawberries, and such. Of course, he's in awe of everything about [Name], but still!

He really loves the things she's grown and always claims that they're some of the best things he's ever eaten (and he's absolutely not lying).

When [Name's] brother Castor dies, Percy spends time with her, trying to make her feel better. He understands what a terrible loss it is for her, and tries to help her as much as he can and support her.

Unfortunately, during the open war with Kronos, [Name] still has to go out onto the battlefield, but... things don't go as Percy expected.

Accustomed to the fact that the pinnacle of [Name's] magical abilities, inherited from her father, is growing plants, he was frankly shocked to see how she plunges the soldiers of Kronos' army into madness.

Percy did not expect this, but seeing how [Name] skillfully maneuvers between the combatants, driving them crazy with just one touch, forcing them to attack their own, and smiling sweetly, but sinisterly at them—

Gods, he finds this one of the most attractive sights in his entire life.

He probably even stops several times during the fight, unable to tear his eyes away. It was as if he was falling in love with her more and more every moment he looked at her.

Anyway—

[Name] is obviously participating in the Battle of Manhattan along with all the other demigods from the camp, but Percy tries to keep her away from all the really dangerous parts of the battle.

He's obviously not doing this just because Mr. D asked him to. Percy would have protected [Name] anyway because he genuinely loved her, so being literally ordered to do so by her father didn't really affect him.

Anyway, the battle, like the war with Kronos, ends. Percy has fulfilled his role in the prophecy, and it makes him feel a lot freer and calmer.

He doesn't have to worry about his status in the prophecy affecting [Name's] fate anymore, so the first thing he does when all the formalities are finally completed is immediately seek out [Name] and confess his feelings to her.

Of course, she accepts it - she has been in love with him for a long time too - and they start dating!

Mr. D... is not happy about it, of course - he grumbles and gets irritated a lot, but after Percy risked his life to protect his daughter, he involuntarily softened up a little towards him. Of course, this did not save Percy from a long conversation about 'how should you treat my daughter if you don't want me to turn you into a dolphin'.

Percy will immediately want to introduce [Name] to his mother! [Name] can't help but be nervous (despite the fact that Percy has told her many times that his mother is literally a saint and, of course, will love her), and even grew strawberries herself as a gift to Sally.

She was nervous in vain, because Percy's mother really is a saint, and her son has already told her so many good things about [Name] that it would be enough for several separate volumes; so, everything went just great (although [Name] sat there all red all evening because both Percy and Sally did nothing but praise her)!

Sally really liked the strawberries!

All in all, Percy still loves [Name] as much as he fell in love with her many years ago. He will do everything for her... and make sure that everything is okay with her and protect her even at the cost of his own life, of course.

[artbyblastweave]

So how does the real world history affect the themes of Watchmen? Gorbachev tried to reform the USSR through Perestroika, then dissolved the whole thing peacefully. I think it helps the themes of ambiguity, uncertainty, and who we allow to make major decisions. Adrian may have been smart, but he wasn't omniscient, he couldn't peer back the Iron Curtain and see a failing system.

An interesting element of Watchmen- and, I believe, a very deliberate one- is that despite the fact that nuclear war requires two to tango, we never actually get a direct Soviet perspective on anything that's happening. Instead, they haunt the narrative; we hear about but don't see any of their actions. We get characters speculating on the motives and behaviors of a doom that, from the perspective of every viewpoint character, might as well come from nowhere, present in their lives only in the sudden appearance of a flash of light on the horizon. Milton Glass writes a whole screed about how lingering trauma from World War Two has baked a willingness to fight to the death into the Soviet national character, but we never get a Soviet character who can confirm that that's the mindset at play. In contrast, we have Rorschach's unwavering certainty that the Reds are "running scared," and, following Manhattan's exile, that they're an intuitive suspect. We get a sequence of Nixon and his advisors trying to guess what the Soviets are planning to do, all while Nixon bemoans having adopted a "mad bomber" persona on the world stage because that's not eliciting the reaction they were hoping for. We've got armchair geopolitical analyst Bernie talking about how they've got to nuke them before they nuke us, because they'd do the same in our position. And, of course, as you've mentioned, Adrian's entire plan is based on being able to accurately predict the immediate behavior of the Soviets in response to the alien- which it seems like he did, but that's ultimately kind of a coin flip, wasn't it? There's not that many things that someone could do, in response to that. We're treated to whole rooms full of analysts expressing uncertainty about which direction in which the Soviets will jump if poked- are you sure that throwing aliens into the mix won't just freak everyone out even more? And so on.

I think this is one of the ways in which Watchmen is actively hewing to genre norms as a means of criticizing them- the superheroic mindset was, traditionally, extremely provincial, often jingoistic and deeply unconcerned with rendering Those Bastards Over There as actual people responding to stimuli and incentives and emotions running hot- just a big, malevolent, moustache-twirling blob, a ready-made source of Black Widows and Titanium Men and Radioactive Men and Abominations and Crimson Dynamos, out to destroy our way of life. And so in this story we get upwards of half a dozen masked adventurers who're deeply concerned with the Russians in a very abstract sense, who never bother to actually talk to one.

Even in the 1980s, you wouldn't need an involved understanding of the inner workings of the USSR to be able to infer that the existence of a military Superhuman gap would make everything much, much worse. We, as readers, know that the existence of superheroes, and more specifically one superpowered American, are the direct reason that this world is significantly closer to open nuclear war than our own world was at the time of writing in the 1980s, but the heroes themselves don't have our knowledge of the counterfactual timeline. It's an idea that exists in the world (see again Milton Glass) but they themselves don't seem to have internalized the sense that they're why this is happening. They couldn't really exist the way they do, if they're the kind of people who could entertain that.

Anyway, this is why I consider Deniz Camp's 20th Century Men an important response and/or companion piece to Watchmen; an alternate history where the Soviets deploy superhumans in Afghanistan in the 1980s, it's much more actively concerned with the experiences and outlooks of those we didn't get to hear from during Watchmen proper. This includes the Soviets, but also the people of Afghanistan, sick as they are of their country being treated like a geopolitical tetherball- untold human suffering experienced, from the perspective of the cast of Watchmen, as set-dressing in the headlines, building up to the possibility of something bad actually happening to Americans for once.