#except that isn't how it's going...at all

[snail-day]

Just thinking about how pissed off idol! Satoru gets when he's at the signing table with the rest of the group and you, an audacious little thing, skip over him. Like, most fans at least stop to say hi to everyone, maybe blush a little or even ask for a quick selfie. Basic fan etiquette, right? But you? No, you walk past him every single time, eyes locked on Suguru like Satoru isn’t even there. As if Satoru isn't the most popular member of the group.

At first, he laughed it off. Shrugged. Maybe you were nervous. Maybe you didn’t want to look desperate in front of your bias.

But then you did it again. And again. Every damn fan event, every meet and greet. Always with that sweet smile for Suguru, a polite nod for Nanami, even a little blush for Sukuna, of all people, but nothing for him. Not even eye contact. Simply acting like he doesn’t even exist.

And that? That pisses him off more than anything.

He tells himself it’s nothing. That you’re just another fan. But then he finds your Instagram.

You follow every member - except him. You've posted shots of your wall lined with photocards. Suguru’s limited-edition album cover, Nanami’s keychain, Sukuna’s photocard. No sight of him. Not even once. Not even daring to read your captions.

Again, it shouldn't matter. You're just some nobody that can't even reach his level. He’s got millions of followers. Fans who scream his name. People who cry when he so much as waves.

But somehow you've invaded his mind. You’ve become an itch he can’t scratch. A face he searches for during performances. He’s memorized your posts, studied the filters you use, stared at your tagged location until his manager started asking questions.

So this time, when you line up at the meet and greet again - when you try to glide right past him with that same practiced indifference - he acts before he thinks.

Leans over the table, fingers gently brushing your wrist as you try to hand your album to Suguru.

“Hey, princess,” he murmurs, eyes hidden by tinted lenses, smile just a bit too wide. “Thought we had a thing going. No kiss for me?”

The cameras go wild.

Flash after flash, fans gasping, security moving in. Your stunned expression immortalized in high definition. Satoru doesn’t care. He’s grinning like a man who just won.

And when the headlines drop the next morning - “Gojo Satoru Gets Flirty With Fan - Who's the Mystery Girl?” he's ignoring requests from his managers to speak about the situation. Ignoring that call from the head of his company.

Instead, he can't help but laugh when he sees that you finally followed him. How cute.

[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

[lily-bisque]

ＷＡＹ ＯＵＴ ＴＨＥＲＥ 𖠰 ⋆☾𓃦☽⋆⁺₊✧🪵𓇢𓆸

volume five — todo a su tiempo

✦ ── pairing: lumberjack!sukuna x citygirl!reader

✦ ── synopsis: taking a hike, alone, in a massive forest to escape your mundane life may not have been the greatest idea you'd conjured up—a realization you'd come to soon after you managed to lose your map miles inland. but when a lumberjack who knows the land like the back of his hand offers you a place to stay, you think maybe your life isn't so tragic after all. besides, for the sake of your safety, who knows what lingers in the shadows after nightfall?

✦ ── contents: lost in the forest au, forced proximity, bantering, angst, trauma/torture aspects, minor injuries, eventual romance, eventual smut, no use of y/n, more tags to be added.

✦ ── a/n: all of the comments and feedback i've received so far has been absolutely amazing, it always encourages me to plow through volumes! i appreciate and love all of you <3

✦ ── word count: 4.9k

archive ─ playlist

series masterlist - previous volume - volume six

art by outdmilk on twt

The following days you could only describe were bliss.

Sukuna and you had established a set—yet, unspoken—routine. You’d wake up, hop to the kitchen, and get breakfast started. 

He’d disappear into the bathroom, hacking up a storm with his toothbrush and shuffle into work clothes.

You’d learned how he’d dress his eggs, that he only drank his coffee black which you scowled at upon discovery, and which mug he liked to sip from.

You even started packing him a lunch—which he called unnecessary every single time despite never turning it down.

You got comfortable in the clothing he’d bought you, despite having no sensitivity for fashion outside of red flannels and blue jeans.

If he wasn’t going to accept payment in the form of a wire transfer, you were going to ensure that you were going to pay him back through duties despite still being incredibly indebted to him.

He was a jerk, but a jerk who saved your life.

You dusted off his entire CD collection, reorganized his dining sets after polishing them, and scrubbed his tiles until they shined.

Twice.

From what you could puzzle together, it seemed that he worked down at a sawmill and treaded down the hill to reach his pick-up before heading into work. The extra lumber he’d chop on occasion, he’d leave in a lump come winter time when it’d be too cold to stand outside for long periods of time.

You’d bothered him quite a bit the next day about putting up a clothesline out back, which he found irksome but completed nonetheless that evening, along with fixing the dryer. 

You thus called the clothesline useless if he was just going to fix the dryer and he flicked your forehead.

He’d hammer you about checking your bandages and curse you out when you’d forget, and you’d raid his book collection and sit beneath a tree to pass time.

Uraume was quite the companion—plopping on you to rub their mud-covered mane to which you’d giggle at. 

You’d both fall asleep beneath the haze of the afternoon heat that hung sweetly in the air. Days were old, nights were young. You’d tan your shoulders, haunted by the melancholy of youth. The sky felt bigger than everything.

You’d scoop yourself three helpings of ice cream that’d dribble down your hand, Uraume lapping it up when it’d muddled around your palm.

The rusted windchimes on the patio became your favorite noise.

Nothing made sense except your virtue for stillness. You knew nothing was okay, but it felt otherwise.

You occasionally found yourself lurking near the shed, toying with the lock and peering between the slivers of cracked wood, but it was completely black inside—further frustrating your curiosity.

You’d argue with Sukuna every here and then—bickering about who’d tracked dirt in, when you’d use all the hot water before he had the chance to shower, or Sukuna telling you that you’d talked too much when you’d feel restless after being cooped up all day, your only friend Uraume who wasn’t of much help since they couldn’t actually speak back to you.

Sukuna was mean but he was sufferable.

“You ever try a root beer float?”

You had your hand resting on the side of his TV, giving it a couple of smacks to get rid of the static. Thankfully he had cable but you could tell he rarely used the old box. “Who hasn’t?”

He grunted at your bluntness, pulling a beer can from the fridge along with a pint of vanilla ice cream. “How about a root beer float with beer?”

You turned to frown at him, obviously not excited at the mixture of ale and milk. “That sounds disgusting.”

“Don’t knock it ‘till you try it, city girl.”

𖠰 ⋆☾𓃦☽⋆⁺₊✧🪵𓇢𓆸

“Where on Earth did you learn this?”

You shoved an orange plastic straw into your mason jar that was both foamy from the sprite and beer can you’d dumped in along with a hefty scoop of ice cream. 

You were yet to be sick of ice cream.

You swirled your straw, eyeing it suspiciously as Sukuna had already spooned half of it down.

“Lots of free time,” he smirked, a line of frothy ice cream above his upper lip.

You grimaced, tossing a napkin at him and taking a sip.

You were a little pissed off that you liked it.

“Aren’t these called dirty root beer floats?” You quirked with an emphasis, metal spoon churning the thick cream. You pulled your knee up to your chest, resting your chin against the cap.

He shrugged, adjusting in his seat and reaching a long armover to the fridge. He propped it open, grabbing himself yet another can of beer to guzzle down.

You could only watch in awe at his bottomless pit of a stomach.

Pushing away your glass, you folded your arms over your knee and leaned forward. “Are you an orphan?”

He side-eyed you mid-sip, surprised at your sudden and blunt inquiry, bringing the can down just to crush it with his hand. “What’s it to you?”

You tilted your head, before retreating. “Nothing. Just curious.”

“Stop poking your nose where it ain’t belong,” he scoffed, pushing up from his seat and tossing the mutilated can into the sink.

Your nose scrunched, knowing you’d yet again managed to cross unmarked territory. Your time here was short, and though Sukuna simply seemed to be a hostile and reticent guy, you felt like there was more to him somehow. It was naive to think he’d care to express it, though. You don’t think you’ve ever met anyone more closed off than him.

There was something stewing beneath the surface of his hardened demeanor you couldn’t place.

But that was coming from a woman with forever bubbling emotions that seemed to simmer indefinitely.

You hated small talk—you’d never been able to stomach it. The feigned smiles and comments about weather or formal confabulation. You’d sworn against it after your divorce, severing most ties with a family that indulged in table talk and pleasantries.

His footfalls disappeared into his room and you huffed, peering out the window and feeling a sense of frustration, a moon-struck madness cast upon you.

Until he returned to the kitchen just moments later, a box in his hand that you’d become quite familiar with.

He got to one knee before you, resting your foot atop his muscled thigh as he undressed your ankle.

You pretended not to twitch when his calloused fingers grazed your bare skin, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You didn’t know an ankle could be so ticklish.

“My parents,” he started, nearly mumbling under his breath. “Killed a real long time ago.”

You quirked a brow, something you couldn’t decipher lurching in your chest as you shuffled in your seat.

“Joined the army with my brother. Half-brother. We got into some argument, way back, n’ I haven’t seen him since. Just left him on some mission and never turned back.”

You stayed quiet for a moment, watching Sukuna’s hands still near your ankle as those tightly etched lines on his face only dug deeper, as if the only expression he could reserve was a scowl.

You inhaled sharply, worried that you were treading on thin ice already. “What’s he like? Your brother.”

Sukuna scoffed. “My brother? Real arrogant bastard.” He placed an antiseptic wipe into his mouth just to tear it open with his canines. “Aggressive, unhinged.”

“Like you,” you quickly added with a tug of your lip.

Sukuna glanced up, a sarcastic grin coloring him before he leaned forward to flick your forehead, a gesture he’d gotten incredibly comfortable with executing.

“Ouch!” You yelped, hands flying to shield your forehead as Sukuna snickered under his breath. “The hell was that for?”

“For being a lil brat,” he jeered back, finishing up the dressing.

You slowly lowered your hands, resting them on your thighs and frowning.

“Been quite a few days now,” he started, effectively changing the subject, lowering your leg and peering up at you. “I’ll walk you down the main trail first thing. Had someone pick up my shift.”

You could feel your heart skip a beat, shuffling in your seat as you averted eye contact. “Well, I’m not sure if I’m totally healed and—.”

“If you complain too much, I'll just drag you by the ankle.”

Or in normal, non-Sukuna terms, he’ll carry you on his back like he did up the hill.

“But I-I,” you began to fumble over your words, perturbation spiking. “I haven’t completed my fill yet and cleaned enough—.”

He spoke your name curtly, a volume slightly raised above your own that it had you come to a halt in your rambles, heat warming your cheeks discomfitingly. “Tomorrow morning. Won’t say it again.”

A rock of desperation sat thick in your throat, feeling yourself develop a case of cottonmouth in real time as Sukuna retreated to his room for the evening. You fidgeted with the hem of your shirt, biting the inside of your cheek.

To put it plainly—you didn’t want to leave.

You liked it here compared to your real life in the city. It was stupid to think that you could continue to mooch off of Sukuna by sleeping on his wearing and scruffy couch and cook him two meals and think he’d allowed you to stay.

But he’d done far more than enough. Opened his home to you and fed you and allowed you autonomy with nothing in return. 

You didn’t like being indebted, but you did like Sukuna’s shabby little nook in the forest.

Lamentably, your little vacation and respite had come to an end.

In all honesty, you probably could’ve walked down by day three. But you ignored your near-healed injury and deluded yourself into thinking this newfound peace was something you could continue to indulge in.

You plopped down on the couch, crossing your arms over your chest, eyes dialed in on his popcorn ceiling marked with water stains and dust.

It’d only been a few days, and though you hated how abrasive and standoffish Sukuna was, he was possibly the first person to really notice you.

His eyes didn’t rake over you and allow you to blend into the crowd. He treated you like a nuisance at times and your banter was practically never-ending, but you’d oddly found a sense of mutual understanding between each other.

Two people who felt abandoned by the real world.

You shut your eyes, dragging your hands over your face as you pulled the thin sheet over your head, attempting to shake off your plethora of emotions you didn’t have the energy to sort out.

𖠰 ⋆☾𓃦☽⋆⁺₊✧🪵𓇢𓆸

“Don’t even think about forgettin’ nothin’. I’m not coming all the way back up.”

You rolled your eyes, adjusting the rucksack on your back as you shuffled down the wooden steps. “I won’t. You got a switchblade I can borrow?”

Sukuna eyed you as you leaned over to tie your boots, your face shielded from him as your unnecessarily wide-brimmed hat flopped in the early morning haze. “Uh. No. You’re outta luck,” he murmured, shoving a hand into his jean pockets and glancing down the hill.

You looked up at him from the ground, unable to hide your blatant surprise. “You’re kidding. A lumberjack doesn’t own a blade?”

He just shrugged, averting his gaze and narrowing his eyes. “We gonna get goin’ or what?”

You scowled, hopping to your feet and dusting your knees off. “Wow. You really have mastered the art of deflection,” you taunted, walking past him just to nudge his arm.

He flinched at the contact, watching you pad down the trail with a permanent scowl, the ink on his face contorting with each antagonized expression.

“So,” you called out minutes later, only a few feet behind him as he’d overtaken your slow pace easily. You didn’t even try to keep up with his long strides, as if he couldn’t get rid of you any quicker. “What’s the plan if we’re cornered by a pack of mutts again?”

Sukuna only ignored you, but you could see his irritation light up in the way his fingers flexed at his sides.

Just the sound of your voice seemed to infuriate him sometimes.

You jogged up towards him, craning your head up and squinting against the harsh rays of the sun tethered high in the sky, her light filtered through flitting leaves. “No plan? Because a switch blade would be of some real relief—“

“Do you ever stop talking?”

You shrugged, undeterred. “You’ve asked me that before. You should know the answer.”

𖠰 ⋆☾𓃦☽⋆⁺₊✧🪵𓇢𓆸

“Are we almost thereeeee,” you whined out, hands hanging limp at your sides as you dragged your feet.

It felt like your muscles were on fire, tensing with each movement and flaring as your exhaustion only roared on.

“Nope.” 

Sukuna was at your side now, irritated that you kept falling too far behind and resigning to your slow tempo. 

You continued to huff and puff and bitch and moan, but as much as Sukuna hated to hear your grievances, he also enjoyed seeing you suffer in the afternoon heat.

Sweat beaded across your browline and down your spine, your top clinging to the perspiration. Your eyes hung low, as if you could pass out any moment from heat stroke and your throat had gone dry after chugging all of your water.

Sukuna on the other hand? The guy was in tip-top shape. And it drove you mad. His stamina was one to rival a wolf with.

“C-can’t we take a break?” You groaned out of breath.

Sukuna let out consecutive tsks, watching as your rucksack made you hunch over like you were about to topple a stack of dominoes. “Now how could we when we’re so close.”

You shot him a glare. “You literally just said we weren’t close.”

“Heats’ got me hallucinating,” he sarcastically defended, arching a brow at you with a sharp grin.

You opened your mouth to call him a slew of curses that equated him as crass and crazy, when your foot stalled.

You gasped, effectively tripping over your own foot as you stepped on your undrawn shoe lace, arms flying forward.

Sukuna’s eyes bulged, arms instinctively reaching forward and stepping in front of you.

And as clumsy as you were, your foot caught the back of his, pushing him backwards, your hands smacking against his chest.

You both fell with a timber-like thud, crashing into a pile of brush. You could hear Sukuna wince and grunt as he broke your fall. 

His massive hands were around your waist, your face stuffed into the crook of his neck and accidentally taking in his scent—cigarettes and a woody musk so undeniably him.

The two of you were still for a moment—could’ve been mere seconds, could’ve been minutes—until you inhaled sharply and pushed off of him, falling to the side with an unceremonious thunk!

Sukuna stared at the sky, arms flopped to his sides lazily as you scrambled over words, heat rising from your nape all the way to the crown of your ears. “I- Sorry I didn’t mean to—,” you stopped yourself, eyes fixing on his palm.

He seemed to have sliced it open against brush, a bleeding wound the size of your pinky across the front of his hand.

“Oh my god, your hand,” you gasped, fingers reaching out to smooth a finger near the broken skin, but Sukuna seemed to beat you to the punch.

He sat up quickly, tugging his hand away from you like you’d burn him if you came into contact and getting to his feet. “Christ, woman. I’m fine.”

You furrowed your brows, swallowing a thick lump of contrite lodged in your throat. “Are you sure? Your hand looked—.”

“We going or what?” He interrupted, a deep contempt and frustration brewing on his face, like he’d tasted coffee somehow even more bitter than his regular order.

He scoffed at your momentary silence and picked up his pace down the path, fingers flexing at his side again.

You bit your lip, scrambling to your feet and hurrying after him.

Though, you made sure to never fall too far behind this time, just a few paces behind him.

𖠰 ⋆☾𓃦☽⋆⁺₊✧🪵𓇢𓆸

For the duration of what was left, you kept your gaze lowered on the floor before you, occasionally kicking a pebble and watching it scurry away.

Sukuna kept his pace manageable. But he didn’t utter a word to you.

The tension was more than palpable—like a thick, tempestuous cloud hanging over the both of you that neither of you dared to acknowledge.

Your heart never really slowed to a resting pace—whether that be from another unbridled argument with Sukuna or the exertion of the walk. You didn’t dare attempt to decipher which possibility it may be.

You picked at the skin around your nails, feeling like a little kid who’d gotten in trouble and blindly followed their parents around.

Thankfully, this was the last you’d be seeing of him. No more stifling arguments that left your skin flaring.

“My truck is just down the road.” Sukuna suddenly broke the silence, his pace coming to a stop.

“What?” You squeaked out immediately, peering up at him from the rim of your hat.

He gave you a strange look, cocking his head to the side reluctantly. “Uh, we’re here. I wouldn’t mind giving you a lift back to—.”

“No!” You interrupted, shaking your hands in front of you. You hadn’t even noticed how long the two of you had been walking, the rushing sound of cars from a nearby freeway augmenting your senses.

Sukuna narrowed his eyes, gaze dancing across you. If you were any less lucid, you could’ve sworn you’d seen remorse coloring him.

“I’ve got it figured out from here. Thanks, Sukuna,” you breathed out slowly, a wide smile across your cheeks that pinched the skin uncomfortably.

He couldn’t shake off the odd feeling churning in his chest, coughing it away and averting his gaze with his hands planted on his hips. “Suit yourself.”

You glanced at the open road, just past it was a gas station where you’d be able to rest before calling for a ride.

“I’d say see you around but we both know how unlikely that is,” you admitted with a dry laugh, goosebumps littering your body in a cold sweat.

He side-eyed you, jaw clenched as he mulled over something in silence.

But you could barely take it anymore.

“Goodbye, Sukuna,” you whispered, any louder and it wouldn’t be a promise.

He brought a hand over his hat, before bowing his head, real lumberjack-like.

“Bye, city girl.”

𖠰 ⋆☾𓃦☽⋆⁺₊✧🪵𓇢𓆸

You nearly passed out at the rest stop, chugging three bottles of water and splashing your face in the restroom before plopping on one of those window seats.

The cup of ramen you downed had your head lolling, belly satiated and brain fuzzy as you waited for your phone to charge up.

Halfway through day three with Sukuna, your phone had died and you didn’t care to charge it.

Not like you could anyway. You didn’t bring a charger and Sukuna had a phone at least several generations behind with a cracked screen. You wondered if he even cared to use it.

Your phone buzzed on and, lo and behold, fifteen missed calls and twenty texts ranging from your boss to your colleagues.

And one missed call from your mother.

Great.

You skimmed your fingers through your hair, ordering an uber. Truthfully, you didn’t want to deal with any of this until you slept for ten hours minimum but you didn’t have the luxury to ignore all of your issues as much as you’d like to.

So you hopped from your seat and rolled your shoulder, dragging your feet to your rideshare.

𖠰 ⋆☾𓃦☽⋆⁺₊✧🪵𓇢𓆸

“Look who decided to show up.”

You rolled your eyes at your peach-skinned boss, stepping into the shabby building with flickering neon logo lights nestled between a 24-hour convenience shop and a hole-in-the-wall bar and karaoke.

“I already texted you and called to apologize. Please don’t make my migraine worse,” you shot back, rolling your neck as exhaustion still seemed to plague you. You plopped down on the weathered couch, the familiar sinking feeling having you toss your head back and groan. “Is Shoko out on a run?”

She padded over to you, half of her face shielded from the milky braid she was so adamant on wearing all of the time. To be quite frank, you didn’t know what the other side of her face even looked like. Which was odd for the duration you’d worked under her. “She’ll be back in a few. You do understand these are grounds to fire you, yes?”

“My god, Mei Mei. We both know you’re not going to do that,” you sighed, feeling like there were bare canines skimming over your nape, any harder and they make break your irritated skin. “Take three days out of my pay. Happy?”

She bristled, turning on her heel and leaning against her desk. “She was worried sick,” she started, tone flat and monotonous. “Filed a missing persons report and everything.”

You bit your lip, eyes dialed in on the chipped rim across the room beside the grey and lifeless metal lockers. “You sure you weren’t worried sick?” You attempted to break the tension, though you knew the answer.

She scoffed incredulously. “I was. Worried that I’d somehow have to find someone as competent as you looking to be a modern day scullery maid,” she sighed out, peeling documents from her desk to skim over.

You huffed, grabbing your bag and shoving up from your seat to rake through your locker. “When’s the next service?”

“45 minutes from now. Rest up, it’ll be some back breaking work.”

𖠰 ⋆☾𓃦☽⋆⁺₊✧🪵𓇢𓆸

She wasn’t kidding.

Your first day back on the job after your accidental get-away was to some dilapidated house on the edge of town. Some affluent couple with too much free time decided to delve into flipping-culture, enter your cleaning company to fix up the place before they got to work on the infrastructure and furnishing.

For the following five hours, you scrubbed, brushed, mopped, sponged, wiped, squeegeed, buffed, shined, and polished the place until every limb of yours nearly gave out.

Shoko didn’t mind keeping close company the entire time, scolding your ear off and pinching you.

“Do you know how awkward it was to call your mother? Do you?” She huffed between scrapes of the bathroom tub, removing the age old grime. “She said you’d probably gone on some bender after—.” She halted herself mid-conversation, worrying her lip between her teeth.

You glanced over your shoulder with knitted brows, hand stilling against the mirror. “After what?”

Shoko bit the inside of her cheek, slowly continuing her movements like she was inconspicuous, regretting ever uttering a word.

“Sho. What are you talking about?”

She slowly turned to meet your gaze, a sheepish smile on her lips. “Naoya sent her an invitation, too.”

Your mouth hung open, the rag in your hand effectively falling into the sink. “Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck,” you cursed under your breath, snapping your gloves off. “Of course he fucking did.”

You pulled your phone from your pocket and hurried out of the bathroom, striding into some empty bedroom littered with old couches draped in plastic, heavy drapes shielding any source of light.

The only illumination in the room was your phone, lighting up your face as you frantically searched for her extremely buried contact and hit the call button.

You folded your arms, leg bouncing as you heard the line buzz, before it clicked on.

“Mom! Hi, I just saw your message—.”

“Where on Earth have you been?”

You froze, nails digging into your biceps. “Let me explain, o-over dinner. Tonight?”

You could hear her sigh on the other side, voice nothing but crestfallen. You could imagine her lounging in the living room, legs folded while she perused whatever tabloid she could find around the house resting in her lap, phone pressed to her ear. 

All while wondering what she’d done to deserve a daughter like you.

“I have plans. I’m just trying to understand why I could not reach you.”

You swallowed thickly. “I went for a hike, mom. I got lost and—.”

“Is it because of Naoya? Did the wedding invite bother you?”

And God, did you hate how she just knew these things. How could she be so certain and understanding but lacking any sort of sympathy for you?

”No one wants to see a wedding invite from their ex-husband,” you tersely stated, knuckles whitening against the tight grip on your device. “It doesn’t matter anymore. I’m not going.”

You couldn’t mask your dejection.

“Like hell you aren’t. The Zenin’s invited us, and so God help me if we aren’t in attendance. Especially after all they’ve done for us,” she firmly spoke, skimming her fingers through her wiry hair.

Even after your divorce, the Zenins still offered to take care of your family. You’d turned down their hush money since the start, ensuring you wouldn’t spread the fine details of your muddled relationship, but your mother enjoyed her early retirement and stuffing her pockets. 

You gritted your teeth, your discomfort only manifesting into blinding anger. Your lips tightened upwards and curled inwards, wrinkles littering the crease in your forehead. You wanted to scream at your mother, incoherent and inconsolable until you couldn’t anymore.

The relationship you held with your mother was too violent for tears. A woman who’d clipped the wings of her offspring and watched her stumble clumsily, never offering a hand to ground her. Built upon your own wreckage. Swallowing the words you so wished you could utter.

She hadn’t been your mother in a long time, really. 

You don’t know when it happened. Maybe when she’d haggled you for your too-short skirt when you were thirteen and barely growing into yourself. 

Maybe it was when you’d gotten accepted into your dream college and she could barely display an ounce of pride.

Maybe it was before you’d walked down the aisle, expressing your worries of having a small wedding that she only silenced you with a tut of her tongue.

Maybe it was after your father passed. Her blinded by grief and rage brought upon you like a monsoon, shoving you and gutting you beneath the tide.

Maybe it was when you told her you couldn’t bear children, not after trying for months and your husband's tone only becoming more and more clipped with each passing moment. 

Maybe it was when you’d come to her at four in the morning, crying when you’d found evidence of his infidelity and she’d only given you that same blank stare she wore, telling you that every man slips up and to turn a blind eye.

You hadn’t understood the severity of the situation you were in until it was too late. Marrying a man who so desperately wanted to continue his lineage.

And when he couldn’t? He’d just find it elsewhere.

Who said you didn’t want that as well? A child to call your own. A pathetic part of you thought this marriage would save you—sweep you out from under your feet and carry you to a higher standing. 

You thought that after all those years of gutted self-esteem, that a lavish white wedding would slap a bandaid on it.

It was pitiful. 

But what hurt the most was that you had no one on your side. Not your mother, not your father, not even a lover. No one to stand beside you when it all felt like it was tumbling down.

You wiped the vain tears from your cheeks, clearing your throat as you chose not to resign to your emotions, a tactic you’d taught yourself. “Okay, mom.”

You hung up, ignoring her calls of protest on the other line.

There was really no arguing with her, you saw no point in it.

You still had time before the wedding, enough time to build yourself up to someone untouchable by their comments. Comments not just from the Zenin family, but from your own kin.

You shoved your phone into your pocket, sniffling and blinking back the last of your tears.

No use in crying over it now.

Padding back into the bathroom, you watched Shoko spray away the suds she’d worked up. “Hey, I was gonna ask. What was the name of the guy you stayed with?” She queried, wiping her forearm against her forehead.

You averted her gaze, focusing on the sink you needed to bleach. “Sukuna.”

She chuckled to herself, making an ‘ouhhhh’ sound that you smacked her for, drawing a cigarette from her pocket and thumbing the sparkwheel.

No matter your protests, she assumed that this mystery man was your secret lover.

You snagged the lighter from her before she could get a chance to light it.

“Hey! I was using that,” she pouted, lower lip jutting as she frowned.

“Uh huh. No smoking indoors and on the job. Do you want to lose your job?” 

She scoffed, snagging the lighter back. “Funny coming from you. Smoke detectors were turned off for cleaning and repairs.”

You huffed, snapping a new set of gloves on.

The sound of fire kindling had your stomach lurching, sent into a volley of somersaults. 

The smell was even worse.

Of course she had to be smoking Marlboro Reds.

[ysaefinn]

Knight!Suguru x bratty!royal!reader

Okay then, I hear you loud and clear.

Sit with me and think of a royal reader that is the middle ground. Scheming but there's definitely a generous amount of attitude for spice. A brat.

But oh does it work wonders for you, most times. Leaning on a hip, arms crossed, eyebrow raised like whatever outrageous demands you've just made were your god given right, yours just as the crown. The harsh flashing light reflecting off your jewels works like a brain-melting hypnosis. "Yes, your highness!" "But of course, your highness!" "As you please your highness!" Ah- Music to your ears. The world at the palm of your hand.

Hmmm but only most times. Your knight seems to be immune to your spell.

Suguru has made it crystal clear the very first time you tried pulling one of your trusty reliable tricks.

Hands on your hips, rolling your eyes, and teasing him about being 'Oh so cruel' and 'not knowing how to have fun' when he stood between you and the kitchen window you tried sneaking out of in the middle of the night. Unmoving like a brick wall with a polite little smile that could melt gold on his undeniably handsome features– one you wouldn't say you could confidently read. The moonlight contouring his beastly build.

He looks like a big bad hound watching over the gates, his no was as polite as can be, but it was absolute. –Alright then change of strategy–

Batting your eyelashes. One delicate finger slowly creeps up his chest. His breath visibly hitches and he looks almost enamored, clearly lost in the attention. Great! Time to go for the kill! You get on your tippy toes, faces mere inches away from each other. And with the sweetest tone you could muster, you begin "Won't you let me get my way just this once?" A second, another, Suguru is heavily breathing then he... smiles-! Wider than he usually would before placing a big arm over the small of your back. Perfect! He's definitely in your pocket no–OhHuh?! With a swift move, he throws you over his shoulder and starts making his way to your sleeping chambers. "Nice try, but I'm afraid I can't overlook this in particular. Their majesties' orders, I'm very sorry Your Highness. It's quite late after all, we wouldn't want you to miss out on any sleep, now would we?"

Un-be-lievable. Absolutely outrageous. But you swear the heat and redness of your face were results of being caught off guard, nothing much!

It's quite frustrating really. Seems you've met your match. But if anything, it just clears your doubts. From the moment you shook hands with your newly appointed guard do– body guard –ever so thoughtfully appointed by the Monarch–You figured that he won't be so willing to join your endless collection of marionettes. It makes your eye twitch really. You've always been the child who threw tantrums when your noble playmates wouldn't hand over their toys despite having mountains of trinkets already. He is an exception, the enemy of absolute control. A threat, but one that you can't deny is very very enticing.

He wouldn't flat out tell you to act right of course! Perish the thought, he was but a servant! You hold the cards! You are the hand that swings the sword! But he'll find ways. He's very indulging and sweet –it honestly feels sincere– but his messages are received nonetheless.

A sweet gentle smile always present as he tuts and politely reminds you to cut your lady in waiting some slack. To go easy on your maids for misplacing one of your countless rings. To turn a blind eye on the very miniscule alteration made to your breakfast. Maybe he oversteps every now and then. A weird look; a raised eyebrow; a little snicker. The most he has ever gone was playfully threatening to 'tell your father how bad you were being if you kept acting up' not like the king isn't at the palm of your hand as well. But still.

Audacious.

It's like his heart is armored as well!! Why doesn't he listen? Why doesn't anything work? Everyone else is mindlessly dancing to your tune so you know for a fact you haven't lost your magic just yet. What's so different about this man? How does he not only manage to stay untouched but also leave a clear mark on you back?

You almost want to obey, to be good, maybe you'll even get a reward if you let yourself fall into his arms. What if he lets you run your hands over his strong arms and feel up his firm body you've always been so curious about? What if you get the chance to touch his long gorgeous inky hair? What if he lets you doze off on his soft ches-

...

This cannot be happening.

Seems it can though. It didn't take you too long to recognize the longing look in his eyes, clear boundaries were never set, blurred lines were his gateway, and you knew love when you saw it. Before you know it you were inviting him to spend the night with you almost on the daily, kissing him on empty halls, pressing your entire body against him while holding his bicepts during your walks in the garden, he'd hold you in his lap under the shade of tree deep in the woods away from prying eyes, pluck fresh fruit off the trees and hand freed them to you slice by dutiful slice, he replaces your heavy crowns with lighter softer alternatives made with flowers.

He even promised to marry you.

Lovers or not, he will always be your knight. And you were his to serve, his to protect.

And his to correct, on occasion.

It was his fault really. This was bound to happen eventually. Nothing is set in stone and the crown heir must prove themselves worthy –Something you excelled at. It was something he admired you for, truly! You're clever, very aware of your strengths and use them to your advantage, the perfect leader, he loved you for it...just not now.

A shiny carriage from the west arrives early in the morning. Out emerges a new shiny toy, a prince gift wrapped in silks and gold –you always loved shiny. The royal foreigner makes his way not to your father, not your mother, but directly to you. And Suguru might be a brute good-for-nothing soldier, but it doesn't take a genius to put the pieces together, this is the suitor your parents have chosen for you. The firstborn prince of esteemed royal birth, from a country that is nothing to scoff at, of course, this is happening. A marriage of convenience to strengthen the bonds between the nations someting something the fishing industry isn't what it used to–Oh piss off.

Suguru is right at your side when the obnoxiously sparkling man finally comes to a stop before you, he is right there beside you when he holds your gloved hand and places a kiss at your knuckles, and he is right there when you –without missing a beat– giggle at the gesture and bat your lashes right back at him.

Suguru's body freezes, then his jaw clenches and snaps back to place and he can't help but snarl.

Guard dog. One in dire need of a leash.

He knows you have no choice but to play along, he knows that you marrying another man is the most likely outcome. But he is selfish enough not to care, he wants to pull you close by the waist, tuck you underneath his chin and send the envoy back to wherever he came from. He is your knight, and you are just as much his. It wouldn't have been a problem if this were only one of your many masterful performances, he wouldn't have minded much. What you have with Suguru was real, not a business move, not a transaction.

But it still itches at his core.

No matter how many times you reassure him that it was all fake, no matter how many times he pins you the walls of your room and makes you repeat declarations of love, no matter how much you promise that you'll get rid of the foreign prince, that you'll get in your father's head, that you'll do something, anything. Suguru is still very much bothered.

It's never enough, nothing puts him at ease. Every time you finish a conversation with a kiss to his forehead and walk away to be with that other man, it feels as if Suguru's wounds were stitched without taking away all of the cancer. It never mattered whether it was real or not. Suguru is a selfish man, and a greedier lover.

And you came to find this out after an incredibly inappropriate night of wine and poetry with your supposed future husband.

Come on. You were pushing it at this point. How could you think he wouldn't be feining to claw into your newest toy by now?

But poor you. Couldn't have been caught at a worse time. Frustrated from having to shush an aggressive snarling attack dog on an almost daily basis and being a little tipsy from the alcohol, clearly having forgotten your manners near the empty bottles of wine before coming back to your real man, you waste no time tearing into him about how whiny and needy he has been, how he has no basis to any of these accusations he's throwing around so carelessly, how it shouldn't even bother him this much anyway as he is nothing but a servant to you, and that he should to act like one.

His to protect. His to serve. His to correct.

So...act like a servant? Your word is law, Your Highness!

You don't know how or when exactly you found yourself pinned to the wall with your wrists tightly held together and dwarfed by one big hand, while the other tightly grips your tummy keeping you frozen in place.

"W-what do you think you're doing-?!" "Act like one, huh?" He moves to kiss you all messy and rough, for the first time in weeks, undoing all the progress that pest may think he had made.

He pulls away leaving you warm and needy.

"S-Suguru I'm–"

"Be quiet" he snaps, yet he doesn't raise his voice, he sounds calm and controlled, but Oh so betrayed. You've possibly done irreversible damage to the man who adores you most."You've said enough, listen to me very closely" his glaring hurts so good this is a new side of him you aren't too guilty you lured out of the shadows. "Whether or not you'd like to admit it. I am your man." It sounds more like a judge's verdict than a knight's oath.

"I'm not one of your little toys. I'm your husband" and it sounds so right, you didn't know how much you needed to hear it.

"But sure. I'll indulge you, Your Highness." but this felt like a slap to the face in all honesty, you worked really hard to get him to use your name, the title was only a little bit between the two of you at this point, but he has never said it with more venom than now.

"I'll act like your knight once more, and teach you some manners."

[crunchystarz]

Hello! Yesterday (the 20th) was my 17th birthday, and I wanted to know how the house wardens would celebrate the reader's birthday. Feel free to ignore if you have done this in the past or don't feel like doing this one, no pressure!

How each of the housewardens celebrate your birthday hcs

Housewardens x GN!reader

CW: none just some short and fluffy headcanons, could be read as platonic or romantic

A/N: going to admit this is way shorter and way goofier than my usual stuff but we deserve a lil fun around here okay, I got to this a lil late lol but I get to post it on Kalims birthday so yay also happy late birthday anon I hope you enjoy (⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠)

Riddle Rosehearts

*Riddle knows every birthday so of course that includes you. He was the first to wish you a happy birthday. Of course in typical Riddle fashion he was as formal and respectful as could be even if it was just a happy birthday.

* Riddle was in charge of setting up your party, it would be out of tradition if you didn't hold a party correct? So of course he set up a birthday party for you like he would an unbirthday party.

* He definitely makes sure everything is according to your liking and preferences no exceptions. He wants everything to go smoothly just for you and your big day. He even helped bake the cake with Trey (he got kicked out of the kitchen)

*Genuinely was stumped on what to give you and he even went to Cater for help. Thankfully his cheerful upperclassmen knew what might peak your interest.

* Riddle is all about rules so now you have to awkwardly sit as he has everyone sing you happy birthday because rules are rules. Sevens bless your soul

Leona Kingscholar

*Doesn't make a huge deal and throws you a casual "Happy Birthday" Doesn't mean he won't make you feel special by any means. It's your day and he'll make sure you enjoy it.

* Leona is the kind of guy who pretends to forget your birthday then brings in your gift immediately after. Speaking of gifts Leona isn't one to care enough to flex his money he won't get you anything super expensive but instead something that really means something to you.

*He won't throw you anything big like a party but he'll definitely hang around you all day "just cus" He'll offer to go out on the town or just to chill out in his dorm. Stealing you away from those loud mouths and giving you some peace and quiet. That's what he claims anywho.

*He's overall casual about it as he is most things but he still wants you to feel loved and appreciated so he does all the small things that'll make your day any better.

*A nice nap would be nice right? Come on relax you deserve it. Dragging you down to nap with him later in the evening.

Azul Ashengrotto

* Azul would try and offer you something nice either that being having the tweels be your personal butlers for the day(depending on Floyd's mood this Is either hell or a fun lil field trip) or he'll allow you to host a party at monstro longue free of charge. Not everything he does is for personal gain.

* Azul o sweet Azul had already planned out your present in advance. Deep behind his persona we all know he's just an awkward guy, he'd be so embarrassed and would feel a bit guilty if he didn't get you something you 100% liked. Thank you Jade for the research

*Constantly checking on you and everything going on because he has a reputation to uphold people!!(He just wants you to have a good birthday shhh)

Kalim Al Asim

*A big party.It's Kalim and what's one thing Kalim is known for? Parties, trust and believe he's going all out despite if you like big patties or not. He puts way too much time into planning it but at least you know he cares. It's like the complete opposite of Leona. Anything but chill and casual.

*He gives you way too many expensive gifts, could you even accept these? So much gold...damn nepo baby You're grateful nonetheless.

*Kalim makes sure Jamil makes all your favorite foods. He even offered to help but Jamil immediately shoots dow the idea of him being in the kitchen while he's working.

*Malik is following you around all day like a puppy he just wants to spend time with you honestly. It is your special day after all

*Magic carpet ride. Why? Because he wants to show you a whole new world (wink wink nudge nudge). Plus the sky is the best place to see the sunset. It'll be something to relax after a very hyper birthday.

Vil Schönheit

*You honestly think Vil forgot your birthday because he was so unusually quiet that it was until Rook is dragging you into a part of Pomefiore you haven't seen before and. SURPRISE!

*You didn't take Vil as one for surprises but here he is. A surprise birthday party just for you. Vil tells you to relax that he'll handle everything.

*Vil kinda guy to give you one of those gift baskets for your birthday and I've been standing of this thought since forever. Its full of your favorite things...and his skin care products.

*I also like the Idea of Vil treating you to a Spa day for your birthday. Again just relax and let Vil take care of you.

Idia shroud

*It takes so much effort for Idia to go outside and tell you happy birthday in person that's a birthday present in itself. He was just going to shoot you a happy birthday text and have Ortho give you the present he got you for him but he likes you too much so he supposed he could tell you in person...

*He is so awkward when giving you his gift you basically had to just take it from him because he was so scared you wouldn't like it or it wasn't going to be good enough. But he's so smug when you tell him you like it. Of course you'd like he Idia knows his player 2 more than anyone (he was terrified)

*On how he'd actually celebrate your birthday, he'd realistically do something super chill and preferably just the two of you like a movie night or just gaming. He's spending time with you regardless.

*He tries really hard to make it super special even if you two don't do much.

Malleus Draconia

*Malleus is so dramatic about your birthday. He's not Kalim dramatic but he almost gets there. There's no big party or anything but he's all over you.

*Like if he could actually work a phone like a normal person you'd get a text the second it strikes midnight with a really dramatic happy birthday text.(That or an ominous ass gif ) I Instead he's knocking at your window just to say happy birthday.

*A Picnic for your birthday is just so cute and simple and I think it's a Malleus thing to do. He'd do more but he was going over things with Lilia and according to this is the most tame thing on that list.

*Gift wise I think he'd give you a gem of some kind. He's a dragon fae and I feel like he'd give you something shiny like that as a birthday gift.

MASTERLIST

[eeriesilkworm]

There's a real possibility we get a Will Byers centric love triangle in ST5

We know the Duffers love a good love triangle.

So much so, they've given us one (or several) in every season of Stranger Things thus far—and I don’t think they’ll break that streak in Season 5.

One thing I’ve noticed is that while some love triangles stretch across multiple seasons (like Steve/Nancy/Jonathan), the writers also introduce at least one new triangle each season.

Here’s a quick breakdown:

S1: Steve / Nancy / Jonathan S2: Steve / Nancy / Jonathan + Joyce / Hopper / Bob + Lucas / Dustin / Max S3: Robin / Steve / Tammy + Joyce / Hopper / Alexei + Joyce / Hopper / Mr Clarke S4: Steve / Nancy / Jonathan + Mike / El / Will + Robin / Vickie / Vickie's ex-boyfriend S5: Steve / Nancy / Jonathan (likely resolved) + Mike / El / Will (will come to a head) + ???

Sometimes they’re played straight, but the writers also love to openly mock the love triangle trope, too—especially in Season 3:

For example, Hopper gets irrationally jealous over Joyce talking to Mr Clarke and even Alexei—prompting Joyce’s sarcastic line about how every man she talks to must be her boyfriend. And of course, there's Steve wrongly assuming Robin has a crush on him, then confessing to her, only to find out she actually liked Tammy Thompson.

Basically, there’s no one way the writers use this trope. They clearly enjoy it—but more importantly, they enjoy subverting it.

So, call me delusional but I think it's likely that we could be getting another Will Byers love triangle in Season 5:

He's the main character of the season and his arc will (partially), revolve around his "coming of age" and acceptance of his sexuality, after all.

Will has consistently been portrayed as someone who is considered attractive or desirable in-universe. In every season except Season 3, a girl shows interest in him despite his nerdiness and perceived queerness.

And now, it looks like the Duffer Brothers are visually rebranding him as a romantic lead:

His new hair and costume design feels both heroic and boyish. The flannel—once a staple of his wardrobe and a symbol of his innocence—is slowly being phased out, suggesting a gradual loss of that innocence. However, he’s still buttoned up. That tells me Will is stepping into his manhood (and by extension, his sexuality), but he's still holding something back. He's going to need to be pushed out of his comfort zone; both physically and emotionally.

Even narratively, there are established links which hint at a possible non-Mike love interest:

When we look back at Will’s comment about not falling in love, we often read it as foreshadowing his feelings for Mike—or hinting that he already is in love with him. But I also interpret it as something more: Will doesn’t believe he will ever inspire love (or romantic attraction). He sees himself as undesirable.

Think about the four original members of the Party. Yes, they’re all considered uncool nerds to some degree—yet three of them are affirmed through romantic connection: Lucas has Max. Dustin has Suzie. Mike has El. They each receive validation and the feeling of being wanted.

Will does not.

And yet, the writers have made a consistent effort to show us that Will is considered attractive—despite his belief that he isn’t, and despite the lack of romantic validation he receives. That creates a real disconnect. A kind of cognitive dissonance.

Having Will repeatedly receive attention from girls—only to reject them or appear disinterested—was an effective way to subtly hint at his queerness. But it’s happened so many times now, that there needs to be a payoff.

What is the long-term point of making the canonically gay kid, who already believes he’s undesirable, only receive interest from women?

Er, there isn’t one.

It makes sense, then, to give Will the opportunity to experience mutual same-sex attraction with someone who isn't Mike.

Because Will's arc about accepting his sexuality doesn't just have to culminate in the realization that Mike loves him too (as sweet as that is).

It should culminate with the knowledge that queerness is valid, that he is considered desirable and worthy of romantic interest, and that he isn't alone in experiencing queerness.

Additionally, as mentioned above, Will is already perceived as queer—he’s been bullied for it his entire life, despite never explicitly coming out. Hawkins is a small town where word travels fast. So if there is another young gay guy in town, chances are… they’ve already heard of “Zombie Boy” Will Byers.

He'd certainly be on their radar: he’s good-looking, he’s mysterious, and he’s still closeted, which means he’d likely be discreet.

And let’s not forget where Will was emotionally at the end of Season 4, especially regarding his feelings for Mike:

He’s starting from ground zero in Season 5. He has zero hope that Mike feels the same way, and he’s likely going to be making zero moves.

In fact, most Byler theorists agree—it makes sense that Mike will have to be the initiator in Season 5. Will is just too emotionally shut down to make the first move.

But… wait a minute.

If this season is supposed to be about Will coming into his own as a young gay man—about self-acceptance, confidence, and owning his identity—how does that make sense if Mike is the one initiating everything?!

Well… maybe Mike needs to make the first move when it comes to Byler. But that doesn’t mean Will has to stay passive the whole season.

It’s possible that Will could gain some much-needed confidence—maybe even a bit of romantic “practice”—by taking a more active role with someone else first.

Giving Will a (temporary) new love interest would also level-out the playing field between himself and Mike:

There's a real sense of karmic justice and ironic foreshadowing in Stranger Things.

Will's jealousy of Mike and El's relationship has been hinted at for two seasons now—and he even complained that Mike only called a couple times while El had a "book of letters" from him.

What’s interesting is that even after Mike takes accountability for their argument and they make up, that specific comment—about the phone calls and letters—is never addressed. It lingers.

That’s why I think we could see a similar conversation (or even a full-blown argument) between Mike and Will in Season 5. But this time, Will might be the one receiving phone calls or letters—from someone else.

And let’s not forget: it’s possible that the Byers are temporarily staying with the Wheelers in Season 5. If Will has a secret admirer, and he’s trying to keep it quiet, Mike is going to find out. (Excellent way to manufacture drama).

I also feel compelled to reiterate that the Duffers have shown time and time again: they can handle love triangles in many different ways.

They can play it for comedy. They can make it completely one-sided or delusional—like Mike projecting his own jealousy, much like Hopper did with Joyce in Season 3. A love triangle doesn’t have to be serious or long-lasting. It could span multiple episodes, or just one. It could involve a kiss—or zero physical contact at all.

And it doesn’t have to disrupt a Byler endgame—in fact, quite the opposite:

Seeing Will Byers receive romantic attention from another male character would serve as a reminder to the audience that Will is desirable and that he has options—this increases the stakes for Mike.

The GA will start wondering if this is really Will's endgame, and if he is truly ready to get over Mike. The GA, especially those who never shipped Byler before, may find themselves unexpectedly invested. They might even feel disappointed or sad at the thought of Will "moving on."

It also creates space for the writers to show us jealous Mike. Just as we've seen jealous, longing Will, a temporary love triangle allows us to explore Mike’s feelings through that same lens of romantic insecurity.

This brings the possibility of Byler to the forefront of the GA's subconscious. At the same time, it invites them to root for Mike, and therefore Byler.

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

The sad thing is, there isn't two issues here.

When addicts don't have safe, private, affordable housing, then they are forced to go wherever they can, including the buss stop shelter.

What separate solution to that can you imagine?

Station a cop at the buss shelter to arrest them? And do what with them, take them away and put them where, for how long, with what money? A night in jail? A few years in prison? If they died that would solve your problem, except it won't, because those addicts are part of other lives and starting an addiction is a painfully common way to cope with someone you love dying.

Same with the 2AM screaming and door banging and threats. As long as people with mental illness are thought of as dangerous, they'll be treated like criminals by default, not worth any time or resources to help. Just ignore them or lock them up.

That's not working for you though, is it. There's no one safe for you to call when someone needs help, when you need help with a situation you're not trained to deal with.

You know how protests bock streets and stop traffic? How some protests bring broken windows?

That's not a separate problem from the issue that got those people on the street. We can't solve our own problems by pretending that the pain of other people is separate from us.

I will never be safe until the people around me are too.

So I smile and keep walking when the guy follows me down the street yelling threats with his fists up. When someone bangs on the door at midnight.

My adult nephew shouts random insults while walking down main street, he cackles and breaks into a run, and I hope no one new to town sees him and gets scared. The people who know my nephew know he's never hurt anyone. They know that just the idea of hurting someone's feelings can send him spiraling, desperately trying to make it right. He's on mediation for depression. He does daily meditation.

But a stranger won't know that.

The people threatening me or making my hackles rise might be drunk, or having some kinda episode, or maybe just be an asshole, but I don't want them dead. I don't want them shot or tossed in prison for resisting arrest. It won't help.

What might help is

-the practice some places are starting, where trained mental health professionals and people who know how to deescalate are dispatched instead of the cops. People feel safer calling them. Less people get hurt, when guns and handcuffs aren't being waved around, when the only long term result isn't just a fine or holding cell. More people end up getting help when it's there to be given.

What might help is

-a program like one of my neighboring communities have, where there are purpose built houses people can live in for free and if no one's actively living in it for a year the place goes to someone else. Compare that to half the houses in my town standing empty, slowly rotting, while lots of the people where I live are technically homeless. Some live outside in tents at -50 F.

My grandma lived just down the street from a safe home for troubled adults. She could barely walk and was basically blind, and went to the little local store for her shopping alone. When my nephew visited her, for the first ever, he was SAFE walking down those streets too. People were used to seeing someone like him around. They knew there was someone they could call if anything happened they needed help with, and they knew it wouldn't end in anyone getting shot or locked up.

Strangers saw my nephew yelling in the middle of the street and stopped to chat about the weather with him. Can you imagine?

We're all getting hurt from different parts of the same issue.

Those of us dealing with unusable buss shelters and seeing someone be scary in public still have a little more breathing room than the people who everyone's told to be scared of.

We've got more social credit. We can make the people in charge listen. We can help fix this. For them and us. For everyone.

But not by saying there are separate issues here.

I wish there were a better way to talk about some hot button issues without pushing the hot button.

[emskryptonite]

Heartbreak

a/n: ahhhhhh my first fic here!!! i'm a teensy bit nervous but mostly excited!! this was written for my bestie @heartsforjh but i hope everyone enjoys it!! also just a psa: if you enjoy feel free to drop a follow! my inbox is always open so feel free to come chat whenever!! MWAH ❤️

Summary: Being best friends with Dick Grayson was easy, and falling in love with him was even easier. Everything gets a lot more complicated, though, when you realize you have a disease that can only form through unrequited love.

Pairing(s): Dick Grayson x fem!Queen!reader, Wally West x fem!Queen!reader if you really squint

Word Count: 3.6k

Content/Warnings: Hanahaki AU, unrequited love, angst, not really any comfort, Dick isn't present the entire way through (mostly by mentions until the end), not proofread, reader is described at Oliver Queen’s daughter but it only says it once (i think) so it’s easy to ignore (otherwise could be read as gn!reader), I think that's all but if I missed something let me know!!

You really shouldn’t have been surprised. Of course, only you could love someone so strongly, despite the feelings not being returned, that you would contract a disease so rare that some people still think it to be folklore. 

You met Dick Grayson when the both of you were nine, right after Bruce adopted him and he officially became Bruce’s ward. The billionaire had wanted the young boy to have a few friends his age, hoping it would help him adjust. So, he got Barry Allen to bring over his nephew, Wally West, and Oliver Queen to bring over his daughter, you. The rest was history after that; you were three peas in a pod, rarely ever seen without the other two. 

You suppose it was inevitable for you to fall for one of the two boys as you all grew older, and of course, it had to be Dick. How couldn’t it be, though? He was effortlessly beautiful, and he knew all the best ways to make you laugh. He brightened up the room every time he walked in, having the radiance and the gravitational pull of the sun. Wally was wonderful in every way, no matter how talkative he can be, but Dick Grayson is just way too easy to love.

Unfortunately for you, you would spend the majority of your teen years loving him from a distance, while he spent the majority of his going from relationship to relationship. You had been forced to watch from the sidelines as he went from one girl to the next, and of course, you couldn’t even hate a single one of them because heaven forbid he dated outside of your extensive friend group. From Zatanna to Barbara to Kori, you stood aside and watched the boy you love fall in love with others over and over and over again. Eventually, you had sort of made peace with it; that is, until last week when you coughed up a flower petal.

You were nothing short of confused as you stared at the pink petal resting in your palm. Honestly, you weren’t even sure what type of flower the petal was from at first. It took days of research to find out that it belonged to a primrose. Shortly after, the internet informed you that primroses (specifically pink ones) are often a representation of unrequited love, and that’s when it clicked for you.

You were quite the reader; your father highly encouraged gaining as much knowledge as possible. You read about the disease before, but you, like most of the world, believed it to be a made-up story, something to ease the minds of people whose love isn’t returned. You figured it was a sort of legend, thought up to more or less say, “Yeah, sure, they don’t love you back, but hey, at least you don’t have flowers growing from your lungs because of it!” Except, you do. You do have flowers growing in your lungs, taking up all the space where the air you breathe in should be. 

Since you had read up on the disease years ago, you were more than aware of the two options you have treatment-wise. You could get surgery before the plant grows too large, but you’d lose all memory of the person you love. That means you wouldn’t remember a single minute of the time you’ve spent with Dick, none of the laughs, none of the tears, none of the slow patrol nights spent on rooftops, knowing one of you shouldn’t have left your city to go hang out with the other. Besides, what does that mean for Wally? Half of your memories with him overlap with half your memories of Dick. Would there just be bits of your friendship that you would never be able to recall?

As unnerving as all of that is, and as much as you don’t want to lose your memories, you know the only other option is letting the plant continue to grow until it completely takes over. Yeah, you could either completely forget the person you love the most (and quite possibly parts of other relationships you have), or you could die because a primrose plant took over your lungs. 

Of course, there technically is a cure, but you’re not getting your hopes up any time soon. If the one you love gives you a confession, a real one, one that they mean, the plant will die, and you’ll go back to life as normal. However, you’ve silently loved Dick Grayson for ten years now. You’ve watched as he’s loved every girl your age except for you for ten years now. If he wanted you, he would’ve made his move by now. 

You know what your options are, but more importantly, you know that no one under any circumstances can know of your condition.

Wally found out. You swore you could make it through one movie night, but halfway through the first movie, the coughing started, and but the time it stopped, you’d coughed up two entire flowers’ worth of petals. Wally was freaked out at first, to say the least.

“Oh, my god. Are you alright? You could’ve told me you were sick. We could’ve just reschedu- Are those flower petals? Where did flower petals come from?” His voice halts to a stop when he sees the drained look on your face as you stare up at him. “Are- Are they from you?” His brows are high on his forehead, and you can’t help the guilt that crawls up your spine from making him worry.

“Wally, please don’t worry-” He’s quick to cut you off.

“Don’t worry? You’re coughing up flower petals! Why would I not worry about that? You know what? I’m calling Dick. You’ll listen to him.”

“No!” His head snaps toward your direction, “You can’t tell Dick! Please don’t tell Dick, Wally.” Tears are brimming in your eyes now, and it breaks Wally’s heart a bit.

“Okay. Okay, I won’t tell him, but you’ve gotta tell me what’s going on, alright? We’re best friends, so whatever this is, I’m gonna help you through it. That’s what I’m here for.”

You hesitate, but you know deep down that you need the help and, more importantly, the reassurance. “Alright, I’ll tell you everything, but I’m being serious, Wallace, this stays between us. No one else can know.” You level him with a glare, letting him know how serious you are.

“You have my word.”

“I, um, I have this really rare disease. It’s called Hanahaki. Basically, when you really love someone and they don’t love you back, flowers will begin to grow in your lungs, until eventually, they take over.”

“So, what do we do? Is there a cure? Or- or some kind of treatment?” He shifts closer to you, and you see the worry deep in his eyes again.

“The only real cure is if the person I love feels the same way and confesses to me, but I know he doesn’t. So, that’s off the table,” you sigh.

“So, what’s left. You just deal with this forever?”

“Not exactly…” You trail off a bit. “I could have surgery done to remove the plants from my lungs, but in doing so, I would lose all memories of the person I’m in love with.”

“I’m assuming you don’t want to do that, then?”

“No. Not particularly.”

“Where does that leave us- you?”

You stare at Wally for a long moment, knowing that the next thing that comes out of your mouth just might break him. You don’t want to hurt your friend, but you know that he deserves to know. “The flowers will eventually take over my lungs, and I’ll… I’ll die, Wally.”

“What?” He stands from the couch, his voice rising once more. “So, that’s it then? I just have to sit around and watch my best friend die! You can’t do that to me, to any of us! You have to get the surgery. There’s no way this person is that significant. I’ll help you recover. I’ll-”

“It’s Dick.”

His head whips in your direction once more, the worry and stress on his face giving way to something more solemn, more serious, so not Wally. “What?” He practically whispers the word, more shocked than you thought he would be. Apparently, you had hidden this crush pretty well.

“I’m in love with Dick. That’s why I don’t wanna forget. I can’t- I can’t forget him, Wally. I can’t.” You’re breaking down now, and your best friend is quick to gather you into his arms, reclaiming his seat on the couch.

“That’s why you didn’t want him to know. I’m sorry, so so sorry.”

You both know there isn’t much more to be said after that. So, that’s how your movie night ended, with a movie paused halfway through and you curled up in Wally’s arms, crying until you couldn’t anymore. And if Wally shed a few tears of his own after he was sure you were asleep, he’d never tell a soul.

It had been a couple of months since that night, and your condition was worsening. The petals you’d been coughing up were now covered in blood when they surfaced. You knew you were running out of time, but you didn’t want to admit it. 

You had gotten good at dodging Dick’s offers to hang out, and it had gotten easier when he got back together with Kori. There was a small part of you that was hurt, the part that had the tiniest sliver of hope that maybe he did love you back and that all of this would go away soon. Needless to say, that part of you had been squished like a bug. The rest of you, though? The rest of you couldn’t even pretend to be surprised. The rest of you wanted to hate him for not returning your feelings, wanted to blame him for the condition you’re in, but you couldn’t. You know better than anyone that you can’t help how you feel. You can’t help that you love him with every fibre of your being, the same way that he can’t help that he’ll only ever see you as a friend.

The most difficult part of all of this, though, has been avoiding Dick’s family and your own family. They weren’t buying your excuses any longer, and honestly, you were running out of them anyway. You missed them all dearly, so you decided you would just have to tough it up and power through it for the day. Bruce invited you, your dad, and Roy over to the manor for dinner, and you were much more excited than you like to admit. Dick was tied up in Bludhaven, so you didn’t have to worry about him. It was all going so well; you should’ve known that something would go wrong.

“So, Ollie, how is Queen Industries doing?” Ah, yes, you’ve reached the point of the evening where your father and Bruce talk business because they really can’t help themselves. It would’ve been fine, albeit boring, if you and Tim hadn’t started snickering. It choked you up a bit, the air catching in your throat to make it tingle, and then the coughing started. You tried to run to the nearest bathroom, hoping you could hide it, but it was no use. 

This was easily the worst coughing fit you’d ever had, and although it started as the usual bloody petals, it only multiplied from there. You were only able to stop coughing and catch your breath when an entire pink primrose landed on the table in front of you. You slowly look up, taking a weary look at the faces around you through teary eyes. You’re met with nothing but concern and fear, and it makes you feel even worse. You want to say something, to try to make things better, but the room starts spinning. You’re only able to get out one word before you collapse into your father’s arms, “Wally.”

When you wake up, you find Wally on one side of the hospital bed you're on and Roy on the other. You look around to gather your bearings and see your father leaning into Dinah’s arms, most likely for comfort. You can clearly see the concern on everyone’s faces, and that same guilt kicks back up. Sure, it’s not your fault that you’re in this condition, not really, but you should’ve told them, warned them. You know that now.

As you look back at Wally, Roy notices that you’re awake, “Hey, how ya feelin’?” His voice is soft, uncertain.

“Uh, not great, right now.” You wince as the two men help you sit up.

“Yeah, that was pretty scary for us. I can’t imagine how you must’ve felt,” Wally chimes in. It’s that your father realizes you’ve woken up and makes his way to the foot of your bed with Dinah close by. 

“I wish you had told me,” he says, solemnly.

“Dad-”

“No, it’s alright. I know you had your reasons. Bruce looked into your diagnosis and briefed us all. Please, please, tell me you’re getting that surgery.” There are tears in his eyes, and for once, Oliver Queen is struggling to keep it together.

“I, um, no, I hadn’t planned on it.” You turn your head to your left, unable to look your father in the eye.

“Sweetheart-”

“I don’t want to- I can’t forget him, Dad.”

“Honey, I know this person is obviously very important to you, and I understand. I know how it feels to love someone, but think about everyone else in your life. You have so many other people who love you, and it would really hurt them to lose you.” 

The two of you stare at one another for a short while. Your father’s eyes were pleading, silently begging you to consider his side. You were consumed with thoughts, caught in the middle. Finally, you make your decision.

“Alright. I’ll have the surgery, but only on one condition.”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart, I’ll make it happen.”

“I have to talk to Dick. Face to face.”

“Are you sure?” Roy questions from beside you.

“Yeah.”

“I’ll go call him now,” Wally says, although he seems a bit unsure.

The next half hour is filled with the others taking turns checking up on you and trying to lift your spirits. At some point during that time, Bruce called Dr. Leslie Thompkins to come perform your surgery, assuming the conversation with Dick goes well. 

It’s nice, really, to have all of them here with you. You’ve missed them the past couple of months, and now more than ever, you regret avoiding them.

Soon enough, the man of the hour walks in, and of course, Kori strolls in behind him. You feel horrible for being so disappointed that she’s here; after all, she probably wanted to check on you as well. You just wish Dick would’ve come by himself. 

Everyone, thankfully, is more than aware that this conversation should be private, and they all leave the two of you alone without having to be asked. The worry is evident on Dick’s face as he nears your bed, and suddenly, you’re not sure if you can hurt him like this. Honestly, no matter which option you go with, it’ll do some damage to your best friend, but which one would be easier for him to recover from?

“Wally said you’re sick? That you collapsed at dinner? What’s going on?” His brows scrunch together, and he reaches his right arm out to lay a hand on your shoulder.

“I, um, I have Hanahaki, Dick. It’s a really rare disease that can only form out of unrequited love.” You play with your fingers in your lap, refusing to look at your best friend.

“So- So you’re in love with someone, and they don’t love you back? Who is stupid enough not to love someone as amazing as you?” He seems utterly shocked, and the irony of his words isn’t lost on you. In fact, it hits you so hard that your throat starts to tingle, and before you know it, you’ve coughed up another whole primrose. You catch a glimpse of Dick’s stunned expression, and you realize just how little he knows.

“I have primroses growing in my lungs. Eventually, they’ll take over, unless he magically begins to love me back.”

“Wha- So, you know he doesn’t? Like for sure. There’s zero chance that this guy returns your feelings.”

“I mean, I haven’t outright asked him, but it’s obvious. He’s never seen me in a romantic light, and he never will.”

“So, what are your options?”

“Well, there’s only one other option, surgery. Dr. Thompkins is actually here to perform it now, but I just wanted to ask your opinion.”

“I’m assuming there’s some kind of downside, then.”

“Yeah. I, uh. I wouldn’t remember him at all.”

“Look, I know this guy is really important to you, and the thought of not remembering him probably really hurts you. But, no matter who this guy is, the rest of us need you here.”

“So, you really think I should go through with the surgery, no matter who the guy is?”

“No matter who it is.” He seems so sure, so confident that this is the right move that you almost want to tell him. You almost do. You lay your right hand over his own, ready to lay out your feelings, to see if that changes his mind, but as soon as you open your mouth, your mind is rushed with memories of every time you had watched him love someone else. You relive every time he called you a “good friend” after you consoled him after a rough breakup. You recall every time he excitedly told you which one of your friends he was dating. It makes you sick to your stomach, and you have to hold back another coughing fit.

“I’ll go through with the surgery then,” you settle for. You give him a tight-lipped smile. You know this would hurt him, but you couldn’t bear to continue to live through the torture of loving him while knowing he’d never truly see you.

Just moments later, your friends and family were ushered away as Dr. Thompkins began to sedate you before the surgery.

“We’ll be right here when you wake up,” Dick smiles warmly at you, attempting to bring you comfort.

You wake a few hours later with a headache, a scratchy throat, and the odd urge to breathe as deeply as you can. You hear people shuffling all around you, checking your vitals, making sure everything has gone well; someone even hands you a glass of water. You take a few sips while your eyes adjust, the blurriness slowly dissipating. When your eyesight is back to normal, you take a slow look around, smiling at the fact that so many people came to be sure you’re alright. 

However, as you glance around, there’s one face that you don’t quite recognize. You don’t question it for the moment. You recognize the woman under his arm as your friend Kori, so you reason that she must have brought her boyfriend along.

You’re quite shocked, however, when he steps forward with a bright smile on his face.

“See! I told you everything would be fine and dandy!”

You furrow your brows, and your head tilts to the side a bit. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”

You watch as his face falls, and you notice your best friend, Wally, walking up behind the strange man. The man’s mouth opens like he’s about to say something, but Wally grabs his shoulders, gently tugging him into another room. You shoot your father a curious look, and you receive one that says he’ll fill you in later.

“She was messing with me, right, Wally?” Dick is pacing in front of one of his best friends, hands running through his hair, mind going a thousand miles a minute.

“It was you, Dick.” Wally doesn’t know what else to say. He knows you might be a little mad at him later, but Dick deserves an explanation.

“What?” He turns toward the redhead, breathless.

“She was in love with you. She had been for, like, ten years, since we were teenagers.” Wally watches his friend completely deflate, a man who once brightened up every room he entered, now overcome with the shadow of grief, mourning a friendship that you couldn’t even recall.

“So, she doesn’t remember me at all? We’ve been friends since we were nine, and now there’s just nothing?”

“It looks that way, yeah. I’m so sorry, man.”

“Wait. You knew?”

“Well, I-”

“Why didn’t you tell me? We could’ve done something!”

“Don’t act like you’ve been in love with her this whole time! If you were, she wouldn’t have gotten that stupid disease in the first place!”

“I could have tried! I could have- I could have-” Dick cuts himself off mid-sentence, falling to his knees on the floor, tears now streaming down his face. 

Wally is quick to join him, tears quickly welling up in his eyes as well. “I wanted to tell you, man. You have to believe me, but she made me promise not to. And, god, just be glad you didn’t have to see how bad she got. It tore me apart to watch her cough up those petals. I’ve never seen her so worn down.”

“I did that to her…”

“No. C’mon, don’t think like that. Neither of you could help how you felt about one another. I know the situation sucks, but it’s all over now. You guys can start over, let her get to know you again.”

“Yeah… Yeah, I guess so.” As Dick sat there, mourning a friendship that never existed to you, he felt a twisting pain begin to grow in his chest, clawing at his insides, ready to take him down to his lowest level, and he couldn’t help but think about just how much it felt like heartbreak.

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[yup-thats-me]

—Shopping Spree • S. Mingi

𐙚pairing: bf!Mingi x gf!reader 𐙚summary: ❝your boyfriend takes you on a much needed shopping trip❞ 𐙚warnings: none 𐙚a/n: I hope you like this noonie. I apologize if I'm not describing the clothes enough. This just isn't my style. I tried :'')

⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚

"Girl," Mingi dragged throwing a tee on Y/n's face. "How many times have you worn that tee?"

Y/n shrugged, snot looking up from the screen in her hand. "Who cares. Still wearable, isn't it?"

Mingi paused, taking the empty space beside her. Being with the girl for over two years now, Mingi knew how she could get.

When the two first got together. it honestly surprised the singer that Y/n was not crazy about clothes. Having his fair share of girls hitting him up just for the riches, Mingi thought she would be the same, given enough time.

But after months into dating, when he saw the girl hardly ever went shopping or asked for anything, except of his time and love, which he showered her in, Mingi made it his mission to dig deep. It was then that he learnt of her childhood, and everything fell in place.

"Come on," Mingi said, pulling on her wrist. "Get up."

"Where?" her brows furrowed, confused "We don't have any plans for the day."

"We do now," and the man pulled her off the couch ignoring her whines.

"Help, my hot boyfriend is kidnapping me!"

Mingi scoffed, dragging her to the front door. "Real funny, sweetheart," he replied sarcastically.

Y/n pouted, following him to the car. "I swear if its a date, Song Mingi, I will crush your head. I'm not ready!"

"Is that a threat or a promise, love?" He smirked, earning himself a smack on the head.

The drive to god-knows-where was short though. After about fifteen minutes, Mingi stopped in front of a Off-White showroom. Killing the engine, he leaned over to undo her seatbelt, pecking her lips.

"A date it is," he smiled, opening the car door for her.

Y/n hoped out, refusing to let the man see her face growing red. As Mingi rounded the car, the man slung his hand over her shoulder, pulling her close.

"Let's get you some new clothes."

"But I have−," Mingi presses a finger to your lips, shutting you effectively. "No buts."

Upon entering, the singer watched fondly as you scurried off to inspect some sneakers.

"First clothes, then we can look at them shoes," he urged, pulling you to the garments section.

Knowing it was pointless to argue, you follow him without words.

"Now lets see," the man picked out pair of parachute pants from the hanger, placing them before you as if he was dressing up a doll. "Looks good, we'll try," he shrugged.

"Are you buying them for me?"

"Who else, love," he replied, inspecting some shirts.

"Then how do you know my size? What if it doesn't fit?"

Mingin smriked, leaning down to your ear. "Have you forgotten all the nights I've held that waist of yours when I fucked you deep?"

Choking, you hit him, scurrying away from him. "Pervert," you point.

"You know me too well," he smirked.

The man dargged you each section, picking out clothes that he thinks will fit and you'll like, adding them to the bag. "This, this and this," he pointed at some crops. "Which one?"

You shrug. "Don't they all look the same?"

"Girl, you're gonna make my head hurt," Mingi sighed, adding all three to the bag. "Those are different colors!"

You were about to protest but Mingi suddenly pressed his lips to yours, rendering you speechless. "No buts, remember?"

And your favorite part - the sweats. "This," you point at one. Mingi smiled. It was the first time you chose something for yourself that afternoon.

"Alright," he smiled, taking them from your hands.

Seeing you stand there satisfied with your pick, Mingi nudged you lightly. "Go on. You need more."

Smiling, you skipped as you went through the dozens of options. Picking one and another. "Good," Mingi commented when he saw how many you picked. "Now you will not steal my sweats," he praised, placing a kiss to your forehead.

"Who says I won't?" you grin.

After your much-needed shopping spree, Mingi stopped by an ice cream truck. "Care for an ice cream?"

"If I ever say no to that, shoot me in the head," you say before jumping out the door.

Smiling, he followed you like a lovesick fool.

do not copy, steal or translate my work on any other sites. All rights belongs to yup-thats-me© on tumblr

⋆.𐙚˚reqs are openᝰ.ᐟ

[yaoipologist]

i think it's a bit ridiculous how often i see people just blatantly wrong about grian in third life so i wanted to make a post saying my opinion:

it's so incredibly obvious to me that grian wants to be with scar. the initial deal - my life for your life - was made By Grian. it was offered and freely given. scar was wary talking to grian while the deal was being made because he thought grian was going to fucking kill him again. swearing fealty to him was not scar's idea, it was entirely grian's, made of his own free will.

immediately afterwards, grian does a full 180 and is very open about how much he dislikes being with scar and being tied to him. he tells everyone that scar is crazy, tries to disrupt his small plans that he disapproves of, even yells at him about what he wears ("put your clothes back on!"). it seems like it's a fight, like he disapproves of scar's every action and is being dragged along as an unwilling participant.

but grian doesn't leave. he doesn't go to other people for help leaving the situation, despite them offering. he warns people about scar knowing full well that scar knows what he's doing and is in full earshot (and laughs at scar's comments about it when they're alone). despite the deal allowing for his release, his loyalty to scar does not shake until the very end, no matter how much he complains.

and scar is not some cruel jailer. scar is absurdly nice and almost gentle with grian. "can we still be friends?" while handing him flowers, carrying him around on pizza's back, doing everything he can to make him laugh, always going along with his setups. scar never treats him like a vassal and instead treats him like a dear friend. it's clear that scar has genuine affection for grian, even as a red life. even if grian got in that situation unwillingly, scar doesn't use him like that.

if anything, there's an argument to be made that grian uses scar to get away with his own schemes. very often he not-so-subtly nudges scar to give him the go-ahead to kill. grian is very particular about rules and this season is no exception; he toes the line very carefully between what he's allowed to do and what he isn't, and crosses that line frequently for his own gain. he is the deadliest player that season by a mile, not in the least because scar lets him be.

but like i said, scar plays right along with it. he gladly becomes the partner in grian's explosive schemes and always backs him up, even when grian fails to always back HIM up. scar is more than willing to play the part of facilitator. he's not trapped either.

watching with all this in mind and the understanding that the characters aren't speaking exactly what they mean (because why would they? that's never been the case with fiction!), we understand that there is something more going on here. grian is not telling the truth when he says he does not like his partnership with scar, and looking at the way they actually act, it's pretty obvious he genuinely cares for and treasures him.

this is part of what makes video game roleplay so difficult to talk about - the medium allows unreliable narrators to lie directly to the audience's faces, where we tend to most believe them. subtleties in the storytelling can get lost if you take it all at face value and the real diamonds end up being seen as just shiny rocks.

i think it's very clear the swearing fealty thing was an excuse for grian to get close to scar. i don't doubt he actually felt bad about scar's first death, but i do doubt that it was the only motivation for teaming with him. if he was only there because he felt bad, he would not act the way he did. he wanted to be there, at least a little bit, from the very beginning.

(as always, this is an analysis of a piece of fiction that happened to be made in minecraft. none of this has any relevance to real world relationships. this is like dungeons and dragons to me and i will treat it as such)

[sister-hannah]

"I don't know what to do to fix that," she sighed. "I'm not sure I understand much of any of this just now. You're telling me this is normal, but everything keeps going sideways."

She lies still in his arms in silence for a time. It's easier not to speak. Everything she's said or done with him seems to have been wrong except for moments like this one. She doesn't know how to feel better after all of it. She isn't even sure she's gotten him to understand how she feels about anything that's happened this entire time.

Possibly it would be easier with him to remain mute. Body language seems to be the kind that works the best for them. Everything else just feels like a pile-up of failures on her part, failures she can barely seem to explain, much less repair.

She's not used to being quite this wrong-footed at every turn in relationships. It's unbalancing, and she doesn't know how to put down the accumulated burden she's carrying now.

[Sister Hannah enters the confessional booth, sighing with exhaustion in the darkness. She's a librarian and scribe at the Abbey, nearly your own age.]

I'm glad it's you taking confessions today, Papa. You always comfort me. Just hearing your voice feels like a kindness, and it's been a long day.

I don't even know if you remember me. I'm usually in either the library or the new scriptorium. Sometimes I find you books, when you're there.

If there's one thing I should probably confess while I'm here, it's that I wish I knew you better. I know the seal of confession protects what's said here today, so if you choose never to pursue it, we can forget I ever said it.

But if by some chance you wanted a friend -- someone to laugh with, or to help you if you need it -- I hope you will find me.

I love to see you smile.

Dark Lord's blessing on you, Papa. You probably get this sort of thing a lot around here, so forgive me for being forward, if I have been.

[Sister Hannah gets up to leave the confessional booth, slightly relieved to have spoken, but nervous about it too.]

Perpetua’s heart blooms at the unexpected confession, the sweet words making a blush rise beneath his mask. It’s unusual for anyone to give him such kindnesses, so he can only rely on impulse to respond.

“Wait!” he blurts out, hoping to catch Sister Hannah before she leaves. “That was, um… very kind of you, Sister. I do remember you, my dear. You are such a valuable resource to the ministry; how could I possibly forget such a treasure? The next time I see you, I will stay a little longer, si? We can certainly get to know each other then. My office is always open as well. For… anything.”

He takes a deep breath, heart fluttering wildly in his chest. Honestly, he isn’t even sure if Sister Hannah is still there, and the growing period of silence makes him worry that all he has said was in vain.

[caffeineaddictedturtle]

Look at all those chickens

OT8 × gen!Reader genre: fluff,drabble warning(s): lowkey hella cute, no beta we die like man an: i explain it here

Chan:

He would just look at you dumbfounded: what are you two going to do with these chickens? He knows you didn't think it through, he isn't mad at you, secretly loves all of them and wants to buy at least the same amount so you can have little chicken pairs.

Already thinking about buying a farm far away from everyone where you can have goats and baby cows, maybe some horse and of course dogs and cats. Heck, he would even buy you a whole zoo just to make sure his little princess has all the animals she can possibly think of.

Minho:

He would tease you with feeding them to his kids, enjoying how your face scrunches up from the thought. Deep inside, he is intrigued by them, and slowly warming up to the idea of having a bunch of baby chicks.

He also says up until the AM to look for chicken coops and things he can build for them so they can play and have a comfortable place to stay. He is trying to be secretive about it to surprise you and to not blow up his cover.

Changbin:

He would literally hold back tears and show you all the pictures he has saved on his phone about baby farm animals. He is a softie and you always knew it.

He names all of them silly names and feeling quite happy about them until one poops on his floor... he might be in for a wild ride with figuring out how to potty-train chickens.

Hyunjin:

He already wants to make sketches of you and your kids, thinking about poses he could have you hold them so he can make sure he gives justice to your beauty. Feels overjoyed by this new milestone you two accomplished: having a dozen of little feathery kids.

Han:

For a solid minute, he laughs, not thinking you are being for real. Then, when he realized he was happy, he named all of them names like pip, peep, squeak, lil pip jr. and the list could go on and on.

After a week or so of having them, he started

“teaching” them how to fly, making you watch it in horror. But let's face it, he is so clumsy he has dropped one or two of them accidentally when dropped one or two of them accidentally when you weren't home.

Felix:

As soon as you opened the box, his eyes light up, living that Stardew fantasy with you. He makes lots of pictures of them, you with the chicks, and his own SKZOO. He sends the latter picture to the group chat with the boys, announcing that BbokAri somehow ended up being a father and that the mother left them. You just laughed at the soap opera he suddenly started to write about his own merch plushie, but you didn't stop him.

Seungmin:

You showed him while the others were there as well, bragging about your new-found family with Minnie. Everyone was over the moon about how adorable they were, except your boyfriend, who simply told Felix that he thinks they are his kids, delivering it with the stone-cold expression he mastered probably at birth.

I.N.:

He gets super excited, although finds it a bit silly.

Said a joke along the lines of must’ve cheated with Felix's SKZOO, which earned a chuckle from you.

As he starts to play with them, one immediately pinches him with its beak making you forget about your kids and making sure that your boyfriend is okay, babying him just a little more.

masterlist ║request something

[flwrfields]

THE ONLY EXCEPTION — PARAMORE • Y.SE

summary: si-eun never really liked physical touch, not until you came. as your friendship grew, he found you becoming his only exception.

a/n: heh, i'm getting active!!! this idea popped up when i was trying to sleep and i immediately put it in my notes so i wouldn't forget it LMFAO!!! and notice how i put the images in the correct order of si-eun getting run over??? heh.. heh. also, this fic's idea is inspired by paramore's song name "the only exception", so i suggest if you listen to it while reading!!

warnings: clingy reader, softie si-eun, mutual feelings, si-eun is definitely whipped for you, absolute FLUFF, lowercase intended, set in class 2 w/c: 1092

yeon si-eun, this guy never liked it when people touched him or be overly touchy. that was before you appeared into his life. at first, he found you absolutely annoying. he always found himself in situations where you're clinging onto him like your life depends on it. he hated how much you linked arms with him, how much you rested your head on his shoulder like a pillow, how much you held his hand, how much you hugged him... there's a lot of things that irritated him. one time, you ran towards him during lunch, all while yelling his name, "si-eun-ah!" the worst part is, all of his friends are sitting right next to him, probably laughing their asses off because he had to deal with your clinginess. they didn't laugh because they were mocking you, they would never! they laughed because they think it's funny how you're clinging onto si-eun, out of all people. you sat next to him, noticing how everyone is laughing and giggling. you tilt your head, wondering why. "did i miss something?" you ask, curiosity filled your voice. you receive shakes of heads, still hearing laughter. "no, no, we're laughing at si-eun!" baku says, pointing right at the guy, who seems miserable. but, you knew that miserable look of his would fade... you were sure of it. and you were right. as time went on, he warmed up to you. when you cling onto him, he can't bring himself to pull away. he stayed there. he let you be as close as you want. he's allowing you to invade his space, as if you successfully broke down the walls you've been trying to break through. and that's exactly what happened. you made him go soft, and surprisingly, he doesn't mind it. in fact, he moves closer to you when you hold him. he does all of this without any hesitation, no reluctance. he doesn't do it because he's forcing himself to — he's doing it because he wants to. he's letting you into his space. his safe space. he's never let anyone in before, and it's clear. but, hey, at least you're welcomed in.

months go by, you're still your clingy self. si-eun is completely warmed up to your clinginess. though, there's something different. he's being cautious. you're aware that si-eun gives you short responses. but now, his responses feel like there's another hint of emotion that you can't figure out. you never comment on it. to be completely honest, si-eun isn't sure when he exactly started feeling things for you. it was just a random friday — you, jun-tae, baku, gotak, and him. the five of you were out, standing on a basketball court. all you could hear is chattering, yelling, sneakers, the sound of the ball bouncing on the floor... it was a chaotic mess. you were playing basketball with the boys, protesting about how all of your height differences weren't making the game fair. all you got was teasing and laughing, making you roll your eyes without any actual annoyance. si-eun watched you from afar, feeling the corners of his lip twitch. then, you groaned and exclaimed, "i'm taking a break! you guys continue." as you walk towards where si-eun was sitting. you sit down, letting out a breath. "you sure you don't wanna join them?" you ask, your gaze focused on the three playing. si-eun hums in response, shaking his head. "no." you nod, not wanting to force him. suddenly, you lean your head on his shoulder. it's a normal thing for you to do, he should be used to it, right? well, no. si-eun felt his breath hitch. his heart raced, beating faster than usual. he froze, shoulders tense. you were too tired to notice, but he was noticing everything, every detail. he noticed your breathing on his shoulder, strands of your hair brushing against his neck, the way you bumped your knee against his — he isn't taking this very well. eventually, you noticed. you lift your head from his shoulder to look at him, seeing that the tips of his ears were pink, his eyes looking everywhere but you. you giggle, nudging his arm with your shoulder. "you're blushing." you mumble, teasing him. he turns his head away, making you giggle even more. you were about to say something else, but gotak interrupted you. "yah, lovebirds! come over here and play!" gotak yells, grabbing both of your attention. jun-tae smiles, nodding in agreement. you sigh and stand up, grabbing si-eun's hand in the process. "come on, they'll keep bothering us if we don't go." you softly say, tugging him onto his feet. he stands up with your assistance, his flushed face becoming worse after he processes the word "lovebirds". you don't comment on it, knowing that you're fully blushing as well. when you two arrive on the court, you're both a blushing mess.

currently, you're in si-eun's house, sitting on his bed as you eat some food you grabbed from his fridge. he's by his desk, studying per usual. his focus is on his notebooks, but it quickly shifts onto you when you speak up. "hey, si-eun? i gotta ask, do you like me?" he freezes, not expecting the question. "uh, no. why do you ask?" he replies, lying. "i don't know, i just feel like you like someone! you're acting all weird and stuff." "weird, how?" "you've been staring at me a lot. you blush when i do things i've been doing for months. you answer less. and i also heard from jun-tae that you stare at me with some type of way... like you're in love with me or something." si-eun sighs, hearing your explanation. he knows he can't hide anymore, he has to say it, he has to admit it. it's been months, it's now or never. "maybe i do like you." you blink, looking up from your food. your eyes widen, your cheeks flushing. you open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. you look down at your lap, smiling to yourself. "well, i'm glad to hear that." you whisper, glancing back to si-eun. he smiles at you, an actual smile. you've never seen si-eun smile like this before, and now that you're finally seeing it... god, he's so pretty. the silence drags longer than expected. it isn't an awkward type of silence — it's a comfortable one. you didn't say it exactly, but si-eun knows that you feel the same way as he does. and he knows that you'll still be his only exception.

© flwrfields

[fafodill]

Heyyy how are you doing?? How are you feeling??? I hope good :3 yu need love too

*Kisses hugs 👽👅*

And I just gonna leave this here for you to squeeze 👽

You're so sweet, thank you for the little Sneep.💚I'm honestly not doing good but I'll put it under there so TW everyone, sickness, old age, family and death of a parent. I will share some difficult stuff so please, take care of yourselves and scroll away if you need.

My dad is not doing good. And I mean he's not going to get better. He's 82 and they found cancer in his head and his health is dwindling rapidly. I had to fly back home last week to see him and support my mom through everything. Every day has been so packed with bad news or stuff to deal with that I feel like I've been there almost a month already.

We also found out he had other health issues he kept from us for years. As of now he still recognises us but yeah, the person he was is pretty much gone. A month ago he wasn't doing good (we saw some things were wrong) but he still had autonomy. Now he can't even eat by himself, make a sentence or even understand what's happening to him. Right now the idea is to make him as comfortable as possible, which isn't easy since he's very confused. A week ago they tried a treatment that was helping him and we saw him Sunday and he was doing pretty good! Two days later it's a catastrophe. He has no balance anymore and is hurting himself when he falls so, yeah, yesterday when we went to see him it was extremely rough.

He recognises me when I smile at him and smiles back. So I keep smiling and try not to tear up. But he's mostly gone. I just want him to stop being scared. Fortunately he doesn't realise much anything anymore it seems...

But yeah, no idea how this is gonna go, we're pretty much living from day to day.

Also money is tight and working right now is quite the struggle. I have barely energy to process everything that's happening and staying afloat.

On good notes, my mom and I are strong and pushing through this together. Also I was super anxious about my cat being all alone at home (except from my neighbor feeding him and a friend coming by from time to time) and my drummer 🥁 (yes I'm dating a drummer) is going to take care of him starting next week. I have a good support system even though most of them are far away. My best friend is in Switzerland tho and I see her on Friday, it's going to be nice. But yeah, my drummer and my cat are far away and I really need a hug.

So yeah, things are rough.

But I'm thankful to this sweet community.

Thank you. 💕

[lazylittledragon]

ok so

disclaimer it has been a long ass time since i read/watched any of suzanne collins' masterpieces but i'm doing my best with what i remember

i was thinking about the response to the hunger games when it first came out and how the irony of it is sort of old news at this point and now i can't stop thinking about how the exact same thing happened with squid game only worse in many ways.

context: the hunger games effect is the irony that one of the main themes in the book is everyone watching and ignoring the atrocities and societal failures at the root of it all in favour of swooning at a love triangle. and then the movies came out and everyone watching was ignoring the atrocities and societal failures at the root of it all in favour of swooning at a love triangle.

(for the most part, and way back when it came out. we've come a long way since then which is nice)

and then squid game released and the exact same thing happened but infinitely worse than just fandom discourse and somehow even MORE dystopian.

squid game at its core is about class division and how normal people are willing to do terrible things if it means escaping poverty. how the rich prey on the poor and milk them for all they're worth, for money or entertainment. how a capitalist society benefits nobody except those at the top. how someone will subject themselves to any level of pain or humiliation just to get out of debt. how even after seeing the first round of brutality and fearing for their lives, people will come back voluntarily and do it all again if they're desperate enough.

the point is not to want to be there. the point is to feel enraged at the people preying on the disadvantaged, to be horrified at how meaningless human life can become to someone for the sake of money, to wonder what it would take for you to feel the same.

and then rich people decided it was a good idea to do it for real. something something torment nexus.

i know that preaching about media literacy sounds a lot like 'look at me, i'm better than you because i understand The Themes'. but i don't understand how it keeps happening because most of it is about as subtle as a brick through a window. children forced to kill eachother = bad. poor people risking their lives = bad. surely that should be enough, even when it's muffled with nice clothes or a marketable game.

i can't be too mean to anyone back when THG first came out for overlooking the absolute atrocity of it all for 'which boy will it be', ESPECIALLY since most of us were similar ages to the characters. it's the kind of thing that doesn't really hit you until you're an adult and realise how helpless you actually are as a child, even if you don't know it at the time. honestly if anything it makes it even more effective, since it proves that people are susceptible to distraction tactics if it means they can ignore what's really going on, and if the girl is pretty enough.

and in the same way i can't fault the people who were part of squid game: the challenge or mrbeast's clusterfuck or even just going to the squid game escape room things they've made now. because it's a 'have your cake' kind of thing. you get to find out if you would survive, and you don't have to kill anyone, and MAYBE you win the lottery. and even though being subjected to filming conditions + unflattering editing isn't FUN, deep down you know that at the end of the day, you get to go home.

and you don't have to think about what you would do if the death game was real because it isn't, it's just an idea that someone has given you the most palatable piece of.

does anyone want to hear the thoughts i cooked on my commute today about how squid game got the hunger games treatment or do we just want the usual gay shit

[naamahdarling]

Tired of feeling panicky, or on the edge of it. Like really tired. Can't medicate it every day, it puts me to sleep so I don't even get to enjoy not being anxious. Also I've done benzodiazepine discontinuation and it sucks SO MUCH I never want to do it again.

But that leaves me just walking around like...this...and I honestly don't know how sustainable it is. Therapy and box breathing and "just worry about what you can affect" all of that is like trying to walk off having the shit beaten out of you, except it could happen again anytime, you can't control it, and there's no end in sight. As in, maybe it'll get better, but I don't know when.

I don't know how to do this. Everything is not awful, there is good in the world, all of that. I do believe it. I really do. But will I make it?

I'm so scared and too afraid to look for educated perspectives that say me and the people around me are going to be all right. I'm just so scared. And I know talking about it doesn't help anyone else, or probably even me. Sorry about that.

I just want to know that I don't have to be this afraid. I don't know what to do. The stress alone feels like it's going to do me in. I have aged in the past two years. Like, really visibly. Even my hair is a different texture. WTF.

I know that this isn't the only terrible time people have lived through, and that in many ways, nearly every generation has experienced some version of this and been okay -- well, traumatized, but okay. You know. Alive to be traumatized and all that.

Again, I find I need a credible adult to tell me that I'm going to be here long enough for things to be safe for me again, despite everything happening.

I feel bad about wanting that. They sure aren't going to be safe for a lot of people again. Why should I be any different?