#i am one to forgive easily but its like...

[ishestillapunk]

Everybody Wants A Piece Of Pedro Pascal

tags: grief, death.

a/n: it was so hard to write all this and not kick my sheets because of the whole photoshoot. he's beautiful.

I don't usually do this, well, I never done this, but today and after waking up to such a brilliant, raw and profound interview I see myself in the need of disecting piece by piece of this interview and the parts that touched a deep fiber in me.

You, of course, don't have to read this. I mean, not if you don't want to. I would say this is more mine than other thing, like, a precious stone I want to keep memory of how I felt when this article came out.

Don't you ever get that feeling that something is yours? like, not in a delulu and possesive way, but in a sort of thank you-way.

This interview—article, post. Damn, I don't know how to call it, forgive my scarce vocabulary in English—appeared like water in the desert for me. I had a long night of insomnia, very long, used to deal with it, and also with it came the lovely question that every 20 yo makes themselves at one point.

What the fuck am I doing with my damn life.

My phone buzzes when I finally decide to let go of it so I grab it again, and there it is. Our beloved pascalispunk. Oh, he looks hella good. I say looking at the pictures. Oh, it's Vanity Fair. I say and then, I think: Of course there is an interview. So I look up for it.

I read and then the first thing that moves my chest is:

Over lunch in London, Pascal is a grand raconteur who tells stories with his hands and uses funny voices and loves to swear and drink cocktails and murder a cheese plate. He doesn’t take himself too seriously. At the same time, he’ll press right up against the sad and raw and confusing parts of being alive. His insides are on his outsides. He cries easily. He laughs loudly.

Maybe it's the writing, maybe it's me that lately I've been overly sensitive. It must've been the wind. I joke in my head when I feel like I want to cry. Something I love deeply about this man that is Pedro, is that he never stops being human. You get me, right? Like, with some celebrities I get the kinda... fake feeling. Don't wanna sound rude towards others at all, but, he just gives me that genuine and true feeling. That's what I mean by human.

Personally, I never been a fan of an actor before. A celebrity, in general. It just used to ick me, like, why would I do that? I had nothing against it, it just wasn't part of my persona. But then, I remember the first time coming across a video of him. I guess, yeah. Maybe we all want a piece of Pedro.

Pascal tells me about his “give up” years, when he was a struggling actor in New York decimated by the sudden death of his beloved mother, Verónica.

I felt connected truly with Pedro when I learnt about his life. The struggle and loss. That feeling that nothing is going anywhere, you know? Like. Damn, what is it all this for? I kinda feel like humans (or some of us, dk, mind you) have to search comparisions to other people to feel okay on where they are at the moment and its something that lately has been happening to me. My search is literally:

'Directors that got succesful at an old age'

'How to publish my first book while being fucking poor'

'How do I live'

Is this non-stopping loop where everything mixes with everything and I feel too exhausted to leave my bed. Ends won't meet. Food lacks in the fridge. Mama is sad. But he has been in the same spot, and he's here to tell it.

Life hurts a bit less.

“In my 30s I was supposed to have a career,” he says. “Past 29 without a career meant that it was over, definitely.” Feeling hopeless, Pascal started researching other professions. But whenever he came close to bailing on his dream, friends and family would step in. “When Pedro would say, ‘I’m going to nursing school’ or ‘I’m going to be a theater teacher,’ it was just like ‘No, no, no, no! You’re too good!’” says his older sister, Javiera Balmaceda, now a producer at Amazon Studios. “He’s wanted to be an actor since he was four years old. The one thing we’d never allow Pedro to do was give up.”

And here it is. The first tears I shed.

I dropped out of college after a month in a course of studies that I thought it was perfect for me. Turns out, I felt like I was dying because there was no art in it and I was fucking dying. It was driving me apart of my soul, I would cry on my way to class, I would have no very very happy thoughts about life. Then, a crisis. Me hugging my mom's knees and telling her "Mama, I need art" and she sees me, the girl who only went to arts school for her whole teen years and grew up attached to her desk computer, pirated movies in the night and writing down stories that keep her awake.

And she told me. "It's okay. We'll figure it out"

I was embarrased to tell my friends what I did after that crisis. God, you went through a freaking exam, burnt your lashes studying, passed it and now you're saying you want to do cinema?

Well. Nobody said that.

What I mostly received was.

"That's awesome. You were about to waste your potential"

And something that sticks with me that a friend said.

"The world deserves to see something created by you".

If you're reading this, I want you and oblige you to take it as a signal.

 A New Yorker cartoon featured a therapist reassuring his client, “It’s not strange at all—lately, a lot of people are reporting that their faith in humanity is riding entirely on whether or not Pedro Pascal is as nice as he seems.” “Well, then,” Ramsey tells me, “I’m relieved for humanity.”

Bella. I love you, Bella.

On days when she (Veronica) didn’t have a babysitter, she’d drop him off at the movie theater. He remembers being seven and in heaven, able to squeeze in two and a half showings of Poltergeist before his mom returned for him. At home he’d reenact scenes of being sucked into the closet or slide across the kitchen floor. Balmaceda tells me, “When our parents got cable, the HBO song would come on and Pedro would run around the house yelling, ‘A movie is coming! A movie is coming!’” [...]He sat at a distance from his family as usual, preferring to be close to the screen. But then he started crying so loudly when Whoopi Goldberg’s Celie was being separated from her sister that his mother had to collect him and help him catch his breath outside. 

When he talks about his childhood memories, I become honey. It gives me the assertive feeling that he is the kind of person that talks and talks and talks, and tells and tells stories and never run off them, and never gets boring, and they are always sweet (or bittersweet but sweet in the end)

He makes me think about my childhood with another lens to look through. Less remorse. More a kind of let-go-of-it.

Drugs were everywhere. Pascal remembers being 16 and taking acid and calling his mother to check in and let her know he was going to spend the night out. “And she sighs and goes, ‘Oh.’ And that was not normal. And I was like ‘Wh-why?’ and she said, ‘Oh, no, I was just hoping that we would all go to a movie.’ I was just so drawn to that kind of maternal attention, so I said, ‘I’m coming!’” He rushed home and sat mute and paralyzed, tripping in the back seat as they drove to see John Sayles’s City of Hope.

yes, more tears over here.

“I was having a really hard time when I was 18, 19, 20,” Pascal tells me. “I was struggling really badly with insomnia. I was reading James Baldwin and watching movies like Once Were Warriors and Muriel’s Wedding. I just was like an open wound to the reality of life.” He pauses to smack the table with his hand, groaning and laughing at himself. “It sounds so fucking pretentious, but I felt at this crossroads of coming into an understanding of what an unjust world we live in. This world, and its lack of equanimity, is just too painful to bear. How do you live in it?”

This is the moment where I had to stop reading. I was literally a cascade at this point. I felt like that song Killing me softly with his song by The Fugees and the part that goes:

I felt he found my letters

Then read each one out loud

I prayed that he would finish

But he just kept right on

I felt like he just grabbed all my diaries, my letters, my notes on my laptop. Everything. And just read them out loud.

And I felt less lonely for a moment, less detached from reality. More grounded to this moment that is, maybe, a wake up call.

That there is still time.

His grief had no place in Los Angeles, with its isolating highways and traffic and sprawl. So he went home to New York City, where he’d made some headway as an actor after college, only to find that his early luck had run out. He lived in a seventh-floor apartment of an East Village walk-up. Every night he’d have a cigarette on his fire escape and watch the moon rise between the Twin Towers.

Suicide grief is something I've never had the opportunity—well, more like favour of spilling my guts out for once—to talk with anyone. I went through it alone, mostly. I always think that there is no place as lonely as oneselves head (is oneselve's a word? am I dealing already with the precious side effects of twenty years of insomnia?). Reading Pedro talking about grief is ligthening.

I use to make myself a question, every now and then:

'When does it stop?'

Maybe never. And it's okay.

"Listen, I want to protect the people I love. But it goes beyond that. Bullies make me fucking sick.”

Just wanted to highlight this. Everyone should have this kind of values.

In the car, Pascal gasps and points out the window. “Look at that cemetery, isn’t it gorgeous?” he says. He doesn’t want to be buried—just throw him in the ocean. “Fish food, fish food, fish food,” he says. “And yet, I find sometimes cemeteries are so beautiful.” So, yes, now we’re back to talking about death.

In the car to Downey’s house, Pascal points at the word “FAITH,” which someone has spray-painted on a wall. He scrunches up his face in mock disgust. He’s agnostic, practically an atheist—and yet. “I still feel like I’m being mothered sometimes. I feel her witness all around me. I don’t feel like any of this right now would be happening if it weren’t for her.” There was something magical about María Verónica Pascal Ureta. Her firstborn son misses everything about her. Her beauty. Her smell. How funny she was, and how funny she found farts. “She couldn’t get past a fart of any kind without it absolutely destabilizing her into hysterics,” says Pascal. “She thought they were the most brilliant, hilarious, wonderful thing in the world.” She was also “very deep-feeling, very complex, very, very out of reach in a way,” he adds.

I tell you that I did nothing more than laugh and cry with all this part. Is that kind of make peace with death vibe that he sometimes gives me and I just take as a life advice.

I can't get mad at something that is long gone.

That I don't know the answers to.

That is as invisible as the air, and painful as a healed fracture.

And that I have to live, for those who aren't here anymore.

So... I will finish with this:

Of all the performances in Pascal’s now formidable career, Balmaceda singles out the monologue she saw him deliver as a sophomore in high school. It was a piece Pascal had written about a bike path near their house in Corona del Mar, a neighborhood he couldn’t wait to escape. Onstage, he described how, at first, he’d cross this narrow path that went over a bridge on foot, then progressed to riding over it gingerly on his bike, then with just one hand on his handlebars, and then, finally, being able to cross over with his hands in the air.

I can't wait to escape this place. A home that keeps me warm but silences me. Hugs that don't feel comfortable or familiar anymore. A room that is too little for the dreams that move this soul. A roof that isn't strong enough to hold me from touching what it's-maybe-waiting for me.

Somewhere.

Kudos to Karen Valby for such a great article.

if someone read this whole thing, uhm, thank you!

keep loving Peps. 💜

[lesbianraskolnikov]

I dont understand peoples confusion around how the people around rodya loved him. He just had the four he was not wildly popular. For one. I think his family still loved him because something was obviously wrong. But also thats his family I don't think they're going to start hating him because he suddenly lashed out and wanted to be alone. I feel the general consensus is that something was obviously wrong and that everyone could be forgiven so to speak. But i just dont get why this is baffling.

[twisting-in-wonderland]

Huh-? Why's my sax's mouthpiece all messed up?

...

... Ah.

(wip progress + 'lineart' under read-more--)

portfest outfits are so cool looking,,,

[godricgryffinsnore]

The Heart On The Map ♡ : A Harry Potter Fan Fiction.

pairing : Harry Potter x fem!reader

summary : Harry’s secret affection for you quite literally glows, and a certain map reveals more than just footsteps. It's cozy, romantic, and sprinkled with the perfect amount of mischief.

warnings : Extreme fluff (like heart-squeezing, kiss-you-softly fluff), Secondhand embarrassment (Harry being adorably awkward), Teasing from friends (Ron and Hermione’s chaos), Magical PDA (glowing hearts on enchanted maps 💘), Slight possessiveness (in the “you’re mine and I worship you” way), Uncontrollable grinning and swooning may occur (reader beware). Please let me know if I missed any.

author's note : English is not my first language, so please forgive me for any grammatical errors or spelling errors. Re-blogging is completely fine with me, but please don't copy my work. I love you all. Enjoy <3.

word count : 1.1k

main master list <3

banners : @dollywons and @saradika-graphics

There were many things Harry Potter kept secret.

Like how he added double sugar to his tea when Hermione wasn’t looking. Like how he practiced his “relaxed, totally cool” smile in the mirror every time he passed you in the corridor. And most sacred of all—more than the passwords to Dumbledore’s office or the secret of the Chamber—was the Marauder’s Map.

But not for the reason you might think.

You see, somewhere between sixth year’s chaos and seventh’s slow-burning hush, Harry Potter had done something rather... sentimental. And completely irrational, if you asked Ron (which Harry never did).

He’d charmed a heart—small and shimmering—onto the very parchment the Marauders created, and it glowed, ever so softly, around one specific dot. Yours.

Not Ginny. Not Cho. You. The girl who laughed like a spell misfiring. The girl who once beat Malfoy at chess and made it look like art. The girl who borrowed his quill and returned it with tiny daisies drawn all over the feather.

And worst of all—or best, depending on how you looked at it—the girl who had no idea.

── .✦

It started on a Thursday.

A rainy, sleepy sort of Thursday, where the windows of the common room wept soft silver trails and the fire crackled with just enough drama to be comforting.

You flopped beside Harry on the couch with a groan that could’ve summoned a Healer.

“I’ve written ‘henceforth’ six times in this essay. Is that even legal?”

Harry laughed, setting the map aside (too quickly, if anyone were watching).

“You could say 'thus' instead,” he offered, but you shook your head.

“No. I’m reclaiming henceforth. It’s powerful. It’s poetic. It’s—” You paused, eyes narrowing. “Wait… was that the Marauder’s Map?”

Harry went rigid, like someone had hit him with a mild Petrificus Totalus. “Um. No?”

You arched a brow.

He sighed. “Yes.”

And before he could think—before his brain could outrun his heart—you were leaning over him, plucking the parchment off the cushion like it owed you answers.

It opened easily in your hands, revealing the winding paths and pulsing names. You blinked.

“Wait. Is that… a heart?”

Silence. A heartbeat. A single crack from the fire.

Harry Potter, Boy Who Lived, Hero of the Light, Slayer of Serpents and Secrets, turned beet red.

“I—it’s just… it’s not a big—okay, yes, it’s a heart,” he mumbled, scrubbing a hand over his face. “It’s dumb, I know. I can remove it—”

“Don’t,” you said, suddenly soft.

He peeked at you through his fingers.

You were staring at the heart-shaped glow, your own name twinkling in its center like stardust caught in moonlight.

“It’s cute,” you whispered. Then smirked. “Slightly stalker-ish. But cute.”

He groaned, flopping backward dramatically, his glasses askew.

“Why am I like this?”

You leaned closer, your hair brushing his shoulder, voice low and warm.

“Because you’re completely whipped for me, Potter.”

He made a strangled noise. “I am not whipped.”

You gently tapped his chest. “Then explain the heart on the ancient, priceless magical document.”

“I just… like knowing where you are,” he muttered. “So I can walk you to class. Or sit near you at lunch. Or save you a seat in the library.”

You bit your lip, your heart doing acrobatics. “That’s… very sweet. And sort of terrifying. But mostly sweet.”

Harry looked up at you then, every ounce of Gryffindor bravery burning in his stupidly green eyes.

“I like you, you know,” he said, breathless. “Really like you. Possibly dangerously. You make me forget how to speak in complete sentences sometimes.”

You smiled, slow and blooming.

“Good,” you whispered. “Because I like you, too.”

And then, in the hush of the firelight and the steady tap of rain, you leaned down and kissed him. Soft. Honest. Like a promise and a poem had collided into lips.

Somewhere beneath the couch, the Marauder’s Map pulsed. The heart glowed brighter.

Harry Potter, for once, didn’t care who saw.

── .✦

It had been three days since the Marauder’s Map incident.

Three days since Harry had declared his undying affection with a magical glowing heart. Three days since you’d kissed him and made his brain short-circuit like a faulty Remembrall. Three days of absolute, uninterrupted, lovesick bliss.

Unfortunately, three days was also about as long as it took Ron Weasley to notice anything.

── .✦

"What's that glowing on the map?"

It happened during a perfectly innocent evening in the common room. You were working on homework. Harry had pulled out the map for “patrolling purposes” (translation: to check where you were every seven minutes). And Ron, bless his nosy soul, had leaned over his shoulder mid-yawn.

Harry froze. The map, sprawled open across his lap, was very clearly displaying your name, outlined in the shape of a fluttering, glowing, pulsating heart.

“Oh,” Ron said. “Oh. Oh?”

Harry panicked.

“That’s—nothing. A bug. A map bug. One of those… cartographical hexes.”

“Mate,” Ron deadpanned. “There is a literal love heart glowing around her name. What sort of maps have bugs shaped like affection?”

Hermione, already suspicious, looked up from her book. “What love heart?”

Ron grabbed the parchment and pointed like he’d discovered Atlantis.

“This! Look! Look at it twinkling, Hermione. Twinkling! Like it’s in love!”

Hermione took one look and broke into the most insufferable smirk this side of the Black Lake.

“Harry,” she said sweetly, too sweetly. “Did you… customize the Marauder’s Map?”

Harry buried his face in his hands. “I didn’t mean for anyone to see it!”

“Oh my God,” Ron said, now thoroughly scandalized. “This is worse than when Fred used the map to track Angelina’s bathroom schedule.”

You, meanwhile, were trying (and failing) not to laugh. “So… I’m twinkling now?”

Hermione was grinning. “Darling, you’re radiant. You have a magical beacon of Harry Potter’s undying affection around your name.”

“UNDYING AFFECTION?!” Harry squeaked.

Ron looked personally betrayed. “You put a heart on the map and didn’t tell me? What happened to bro code?”

“Ron, you nearly hexed yourself trying to flirt with a portrait last week.”

“That portrait winked at me!”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Honestly, you’re both hopeless.”

You leaned into Harry’s shoulder, cheek pressed to his robe, and murmured, “You can keep the heart, by the way. It’s cute.”

Harry turned red. “Yeah? You like it?”

“Really,” you hummed. “Might make one for your name next time.”

Ron clutched his chest like you’d stabbed him with a Cupid’s arrow. “I swear, if I see two glowing hearts, I’m transferring to Durmstrang.”

“Can’t,” Hermione said without looking up. “They’d never survive your emotional constipation.”

“Oi!”

── .✦

The heart stayed on the map. You added a star next to his name the next day. Ron did, in fact, see it and screamed into a pillow. Hermione stole the map once just to annotate it with color-coded bookmarks.

And Harry?

He just looked at you every time it glowed, whispered “she’s mine”, and blushed so deeply even the Fat Lady giggled.

[miorirenkova]

“dream about me” CHAPTER 01

park sunghoon x fem!reader

“park that car, drop that phone

sleep on the floor, dream about me.”

CHAPTER 01 , CHAPTER 02 , CHAPTER 03, CHAPTER 04, CHAPTER 05, CHAPTER 06

synopsis: you weren’t a good person—everyone knew that. cruel, sharp-tongued, and ruthless in high school. but you weren’t a killer. at least, that’s what you told yourself.

just as you were trying to change, news breaks: your high school enemy, park hana, has taken her own life before university.

and her brother?

he’s convinced it’s your fault. determined to make you pay. but the deeper he digs, the more you both realize—hana’s death isn’t as simple as it seems.

warnings: heavy mentions of suicide and bullying, violence, abuse, terrible parenting, heavy topics like death (mentions of a character’s death), gaslighting, manipulation, corruption, blackmail, guilt, trauma, revenge, LOTS of angst, fixation, smut (smut warnings will be given in the smut chapter!!), forgive me if i miss any/more might be added

note: i am so damn sorry for such a late release as i said itd be released in a week but i took a lott more. i was having a hard time sorting the plot out and i also had to go out of city but to compensate i will try to release the next chapter faster!! pls forgive me </3 also this first chapter might be a little boring as its just getting into it and the first chapters might be more story driven rather than romance, but bare with me it gets better!

song for this chapter: anthems for a seventeen year old girl

whole paragraphs in italic are flashbacks of past events and color text without quotations are lyrics ! if they have quotations too, they are lyrics + dialogue in story.

playlist link: click here !

mdni . hate comments will be deleted.

!!.under cut.!!

————————————————————————

the rain comes down in a slow, steady drizzle, soaking into the fresh dirt covering the coffin. black umbrellas dot the cemetery, shielding faces already cast in shadows. the air is thick with something unspoken—grief, guilt, or maybe just the weight of the truth no one wants to acknowledge.

you stand at the very back, far from the neat rows of mourners.

you shouldn’t really be here. but you couldn’t get yourself to believe the news until you saw it yourself.

and here you are, standing at her funeral.

hana’s funeral.

park hana, the same girl you used to bully.

her funeral.

the whispers haven’t stopped since the news broke, and they only grow louder now. hana’s friends glare at you through their tears, some shaking their heads like you have no right to be here.

maybe you don’t.

you couldn’t think of a proper answer to the dilemma in your head. the whispers and glares felt loud. screaming at you.

and his silence?

it was the loudest.

sunghoon hasn’t looked at you once. he stands by her parents, his jaw clenched so tight it looks like it might crack. his fingers twitch at his sides like he’s barely holding himself together.

the priest’s voice drones on, but you can’t hear the words. all you can hear is the way hana’s voice used to curl around lies so easily, the way she’d smile just a second too late, the way she’d say your name like it was something filthy. and yet, she’s the one in the casket. she’s the one everyone cries for.

the way she would easily get everyone to see you as the bad one. her as the helpless, kind, smart girl. they didn’t know the way they would spit her words, laced with venom, at you. the way she would mock you.

to others, it was her just trying to fight back. but you could tell those words weren’t a try. she knew it affected you.

your fingers curl into your sleeves. you don’t cry. not because you don’t want to, but because you don’t know if you should.

you don’t know whether your sad, angry or confused. you don’t even know who your sad, angry or confused with.

slowly, the people who had gathered pay their respects and start pouring out.

but sunghoon doesn’t move. he stays there, staring down at the grave like if he just looks hard enough, she’ll come back. slowly, as if he knows you’re still here, his head turns, his dark eyes locking onto yours.

the rage in them is ice-cold. calculating.

you swallow hard. you should leave.

you don’t know what to feel anymore.

————————————————————————

you groan as you slam your phone down on your table, the sound of the news in the background blaring in your ears, despite being muffled due to its source being the living room.

“park hana, high school graduate committed suicide in summer break before college reopens. the second suicide of a student from this high school. is this a cause for concern?” you hear the reporter on the news channel say, the words sounding like an annoying ring to you.

you can’t wrap your head around why it’s bothering you so much. maybe it’s the fact that she was the very person you used to bully. and the fact that there are people who believe its you, whose responsible for her suicide.

maybe you are.

but deep down, something’s screaming at you, telling you not to feel guilty, that there’s so much more to it.

she even got the scholarship she lost and was so fucking happy, her happiness was almost contagious. too bad she held venom when it came to you.

you had no right to comment but it felt so unnatural. almost like she did it for a purpose other than escaping.

but it’s not like anyone would hear out the person who bullied the victim, right?

————————————————————————

the campus is too bright. too loud.

it was the first day of college for everyone. but for you, it was anything but the fantasies of perfection you had.

it couldn’t be, when the events of last week hovered above you like a sword waiting to fall.

the campus was too full of people who don’t know who you are—who you were.

maybe it was good they didn’t know who you are. they wouldn’t start pointing their fingers at you. start looking at you the way your old schoolmates would. bring up your rotten but recent past.

but he was there. of course he was.

you really should have changed colleges. but it was too late when you found out.

when hana got the scholarship for this college, turns out sunghoon applied too and got in. great, both the park siblings would be there to make your life worse than it already is.

except, one of them is gone.

and the other? he looked at you like he wanted your blood, then and there.

thankfully, you hadn’t run into him yet. and you were planning to keep it that way. you would stay away from him as much as you could. and plus, it’s not like he would want to run into you either. he probably wants you out of his sight too. its a surprise he didn’t change colleges himself.

you grip the strap of your bag tighter and keep walking.

it’s not like you didn’t expect this. hana’s death wasn’t just a tragedy—it was a spectacle, a story passed around like a curse. and you, as always, were at the center of it.

a murder suspect who walked free. a bully who got what she deserved.

you find your lecture hall and slip inside, choosing a seat near the back. you groaned, you really didn’t want to take this class early morning.

you even missed the opening assembly because you slept in so you don’t even know what material is being covered. great! as if your day wasn’t bad already!

you looked to your left to examine the person sitting next to you. they.. looked sweet? maybe they could help you out. you could atleast try? it doesn’t hurt.

“hey,” you say, keeping your voice low. “sorry, i kind of zoned out earlier,” lie. you blatantly slept in but now we can’t go saying that and ruining our reputation, can we? “do you know what chapters we’re covering?”

the student—some girl with dark-rimmed glasses and a lazy slouch—glances up, blinking like she’s just now realizing someone is talking to her. “uh… yeah. professor said we’re going through chapters one to three this week.”

“oh, thanks.” you nod, relief trickling in. at least someone is willing to speak to you like a normal person.

she pauses, then adds, “you new here?” now focusing all his attention on you instead.

“..isn’t everyone new? i mean it’s the first day.” you ask, confusion settling inside you. isn’t it everyone’s first day?

“not really, some people took extra classes here to get a head start in the summer vacations. including me.” the girl replied, partially dividing her attention now to take down what the professor was saying. honestly, you were kind of blurring out the professor’s words. you definitely need to catch up later.

you nod before focusing back on the lecture, making small conversation with her as class went on, getting to know her name, emi, as well.

after class finishes, you drop by the vending machines and grab a snack. damn that professor’s lecture made you thirsty and you didn’t even talk that much. it also made you hungry, somehow.

you grabbed a drink and some chips, shoving the chips into your bag before opening the drink, letting the refreshing liquid cool your throat.

you take out your phone and scroll mindlessly through your phone, waiting for your next class when—

a shoulder slams into yours, hard. your breath stumbles out of you, balance shifting as your bag slips from your fingers. you barely register the thud before the realization sinks in, before the air around you turns razor-sharp.

you look up to see who you bumped into when your heart drops.

sunghoon stands in front of you, the overhead lights making his features look even colder, sharper. he doesn’t say anything. he just stares.

but his silence is worse than words. worse than the whispers from the funeral.

you swallow down the bitterness rising in your throat and force yourself to move, bending down to grab his bag that fell. yours barely hung off your shoulder but thankfully did not fall. his on the other hand, did fall.

the moment your fingers brush the strap, another hand gets there first.

“don’t bother.” his voice is quiet, but it cuts through everything. sunghoon snatches the bag from your hand, throwing it in his shoulder where it originally sat.

what the hell, man!?

you straighten up, meeting his gaze fully for the first time in months. his eyes are dark, unreadable, but there’s something behind them. something furious. something unforgiving.

“uh- sorry.. didn’t mean to bump into you.” you bow down awkwardly, apologising. please, please, just leave me alone..

“of course you’re fucking here,” he mutters.

and even before you can hear and process his words, he’s gone. disappearing into the crowd like he was never there. but his words stay. they wrap around you like chains, heavier than the whispers, heavier than the guilt.

you thought time would dull it. that after everything, after summer, after her, maybe he’d let it go.

but now, standing there in the middle of the hallway with everyone still watching, you realize—

sunghoon isn’t ready to let you forget. and maybe, neither are you.

————————————————————————

you felt your heart drop as you heard the announcer take your name. your name for the scholarship.

how?

how could this happen? you never meant to win. all you wanted to do was to make sure she would never win. you didn't even want this.

and yet, here you are.

you knew the look on hana's face without even having to look at her. hell, you couldn't look at her. you felt too guilty, even though you would never admit it.

you ran to the nearest bathroom, desperately wanting to avoid those disgusting stares that they were all giving you.

no, not all of them were bad stares. there were people congratulating you too.

but her stare, and the others who saw this differently? it was enough to drive you insane.

..what the fuck had just happened?!

you were snapped out of your thoughts when you heard your cat claw against your sheets, the unpleasant but comforting sound snapping you out of your thoughts.

the memories of that day. you felt so confused and lost. you didn’t know whether you should feel happy or guilty. even if you caused it.

even if you were the reason hana lost that scholarship.

but you weren’t trying to get it yourself either.

were you truly, deep down, indirectly responsible for her death?

you wanted her out of your goddamn brain.

but you couldn’t.

even when you went on a long drive, desperate to think about anything but that.

anything but her. anything but them.

your hands roughly gripped the steering wheel, the parking lot feeling ever so silent.

park that car, drop that phone.

you get out of the car, leaning on it as you slowly slid down it onto the cold floor of the parking lot, tears stinging your eyes.

sleep on the floor, dream about me.

flashbacks enter your mind once again, torturing you.

you wince as the floor of the lot scratches your knee, making you adjust your legs.

reaching for your phone in your packet, you take it out and unlock it.

your fingers tremble as you scroll through your old messages, ones you swore you’d never look at again. but something—something—pushes you to keep going.

then you see it.

a chat from hana.

you hadn’t seen it as you had muted her messages a long time ago due to not wanting to see her messages in a group chat you shared with her.

the timestamp makes your stomach drop.

sent the night before she died.

“i’ll make sure you start wishing it was you instead.”

————————————————————————

end note: kind of short and boring but forgive me it gets better trust </3 also interaction and feedback is appreciated! ty!!

[chansdoll]

현진 ─── the night we met 2

♡ pairing ៸៸ fratboy!hyunjin x afab!reader genre ៸៸ fluff, angst(ish) ៸៸ cw ៸៸ college!au , kissing , oral (f. & m. rec.) ♡ synopsis ៸៸ hyunjin asks for your forgiveness after the incident in the library. [ 3.9k words ] part one here a/n ๑ this is just to tie up loose ends from the previous part // a bonus smut scene. smut scene is at the end so its skippable if you'd like. also i am so sorry if this seemed rushed. i have covid and i feel like its affecting my ability to produce good writing :( ♡ masterlist

winter break passed, leaving behind a mixture of restlessness and anxiety about returning to campus. you’d buried yourself in family dinners and late-night movies, trying to distract yourself from the gnawing thoughts of hyunjin. but no matter how hard you tried, his face—and that moment—lingered in your mind like an unfinished sentence.

the day you returned to campus, the weight of reality hit like a freight train. you tried to focus on unpacking, on preparing for the semester ahead, but the knock at your door pulled you out of your thoughts.

when you opened it, hyunjin was there, his hands tucked into his coat pockets. his expression was unreadable—equal parts hesitant and determined.

“can we talk?” he asked softly.

your first instinct was to slam the door, but the look in his eyes stopped you. there was something raw and unguarded there, and as much as you wanted to hate him, you couldn’t deny the tiny part of you that needed answers.

you stepped aside reluctantly, letting him in. he stood near the door, as if afraid to intrude further.

“i owe you an explanation,” he began, his voice steady but laced with guilt. “i know what you saw in the library. and i’m not going to lie—it looks bad. it was bad. but it’s not what you think.”

you crossed your arms, leaning against your desk. “then what was it? because from where i stood, it seemed pretty straightforward.”

hyunjin winced at the sharpness in your tone but didn’t shy away. “the girl you saw… her name’s mira. we used to date. it ended a while ago, but she reached out recently, saying she wanted to talk and clear the air between us. i didn’t think much of it, so i agreed to meet her.”

he paused, his gaze dropping to the floor. “when we were talking, she said she still had feelings for me. i told her i didn’t feel the same way, but… she kissed me. i didn’t expect it. i didn’t even know how to react at first. i was caught off guard.”

you narrowed your eyes. “you didn’t exactly seem to be fighting her off.”

“i froze,” he admitted, his voice heavy with regret. “and i hate that i did. the moment it happened, i knew how bad it looked, and i should’ve stopped her sooner. but it didn’t mean anything to me, i swear. i pushed her away afterward, but by then, you were already gone.”

silence hung between you like a fragile thread, and hyunjin took a tentative step closer.

“i should’ve come to you right away, explained everything,” he continued. “but i didn’t know how. i was afraid you wouldn’t believe me—or worse, that you’d believe me and still think i wasn’t worth trusting.”

you felt a lump rising in your throat, a war waging inside you. his words sounded genuine, but the memory of that kiss was still fresh, a bitter sting you couldn’t shake.

“why should i believe you now?” you asked quietly.

hyunjin met your gaze, his dark eyes filled with earnestness. “because i care about you. i wouldn’t be here if i didn’t. i know i messed up, but i’m willing to do whatever it takes to fix it—to earn your trust back.”

you bit your lip, torn between anger, hurt, and the flicker of hope his words stirred. 

you studied hyunjin’s face, searching for any hint of dishonesty. his eyes didn’t waver, and the weight of his words hung heavy in the room. still, the ache in your chest wouldn’t let up so easily.

“i don’t know, hyunjin,” you said, your voice quieter now, the edge in it dulling. “i want to believe you. i really do. but that doesn’t erase what i saw or how it made me feel.”

he nodded slowly, his shoulders sagging as though he’d been expecting that response. “i get it. i do. and i don’t want to pressure you into forgiving me right away. i just… i needed you to know the truth.”

you turned away, fiddling with the edge of your desk. the silence stretched, broken only by the faint hum of your heater. “this isn’t just about the kiss,” you admitted, your words tumbling out before you could stop them. “it’s about trust. and i don’t know if i can just snap my fingers and have that back.”

hyunjin exhaled sharply, as though your words had hit him straight in the chest. “i don’t expect you to,” he said. “but i’m willing to work for it, if you’ll let me. even if it takes a long time. even if it means starting over.”

you turned back to him, unsure of what to say. his sincerity was disarming, but the weight of your emotions made it impossible to make a decision in the moment.

“maybe,” you said carefully, “i need time to figure out what i want.”

hyunjin nodded again, though disappointment flickered in his eyes. “take all the time you need,” he said softly. “i just hope you know how much you mean to me. i’ll wait, no matter how long it takes.”

you swallowed hard, his words tugging at something deep inside you. “okay,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

hyunjin gave you a faint smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “i’ll leave you to think,” he said, stepping toward the door. “but if you ever want to talk—or even just yell at me—i’ll be here.”

he left without another word, the door clicking softly behind him.

as soon as he was gone, you sank onto your bed, burying your face in your hands. you wanted to cry, to scream, to let it all out—but instead, you sat there, staring at the space where he’d been standing moments ago.

your heart was at war with your mind, but for some reason you just couldn’t let it go–let him go. 

you watched the door for a long moment after it closed, hyunjin’s words echoing in your mind. he’d been honest—at least, it felt like he had—and his remorse seemed genuine. still, the hurt was fresh, and the memory of him with someone else still stung, even if you two weren’t an established couple.

but deep down, you couldn’t ignore the tug in your chest, the part of you that didn’t want to let him go.

before you could overthink it, you got up and swung the door open. hyunjin was just a few steps away, his head down, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

“wait,” you called softly.

he froze, his shoulders tensing before he slowly turned around. his eyes searched yours, hesitant, as if he didn’t dare to hope.

you stepped into the hallway, wrapping your arms around yourself as if to shield against the vulnerability of what you were about to say. “i’m not saying i’m not hurt,” you began, your voice steady but soft. “and i’m not saying this won’t take time. but… i don’t want to lose what we have.”

hyunjin’s eyes widened slightly, the weight of your words sinking in. “you mean that?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

you nodded, feeling your chest tighten. “i do. but you have to understand, hyunjin, trust isn’t something i can just flip a switch on. you’ll have to earn it back. and i need to know you’re willing to do that.”

“i am,” he said immediately, his tone firm and unwavering. “i’ll do whatever it takes. i just—thank you. for giving me this chance.”

you offered him a small, tentative smile, still guarding your heart but allowing a flicker of hope to shine through. “don’t make me regret it.”

“i won’t,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “i promise.”

the two of you stood there for a moment, the air between you heavy but no longer suffocating. slowly, hyunjin reached out, his hand hovering just over yours. you hesitated for a brief second before letting him take it, his warmth grounding you in a way you didn’t realize you needed.

the weeks following your decision to reconcile with hyunjin were a quiet, steady process of rebuilding. things didn’t instantly return to what they were, but there was a new foundation to work from—one based on honesty, slow steps, and open conversations. hyunjin had shown you through his actions that he was serious about making things right. it wasn’t just about words anymore; it was about proving his commitment.

at first, it felt like a delicate dance, both of you carefully navigating the space between you. you found yourselves texting more frequently, and the conversations were different this time—deeper, more thoughtful. he would ask you how you were feeling, not just about school but about life in general. and, in turn, you asked him about the things he usually kept private: his passions for art, his childhood memories, his fears.

there were moments where you still hesitated. small things would trigger a reminder of the hurt you’d felt, and in those moments, you would pull back slightly, needing time to recalibrate. but hyunjin respected that. he never rushed you, never pressured you. instead, he was patient. every time you would let a wall down, he would respond with kindness, not with expectations but with understanding.

one evening, after a quiet dinner at your place—just the two of you—hyunjin turned to you with a soft smile, a quiet sincerity in his eyes. “i meant it, you know,” he said, his voice steady but carrying that vulnerability you had come to know. “i’ll keep proving i’m worth your trust.”

you met his gaze and nodded, your heart opening in a way it hadn’t before. "i know," you said softly, a genuine smile curving on your lips. "you’re doing just that."

it was the small, everyday moments that slowly reknit the trust between you two. he would walk you home after late study sessions, his hand resting casually on the small of your back, a simple, comforting gesture that reminded you he was still there. you would study together at the library, him occasionally glancing up from his books to catch your eye with a smile that made the weight of midterms feel lighter.

in time, the hurt that once lingered began to fade, replaced with a deeper connection. you shared more—your thoughts, your dreams, your fears—and hyunjin reciprocated with an openness that made you feel closer to him than ever before. you realized that he hadn’t just kissed the other girl on impulse; there had been something else beneath that action, something he had to reflect on and learn from.

one afternoon, as you and hyunjin sat on a park bench near the art building, you turned to him, watching him sketch the sunset. the golden hues of the sky reflected in his eyes, and for a moment, you simply took him in—how much he had grown, how much you had grown.

"you’ve come a long way," you said quietly. "and i have, too."

he glanced up, meeting your gaze, his lips curving into a soft smile. "yeah. i think we both have."

you leaned in slightly, the space between you two comfortable and easy. hyunjin's fingers brushed yours, and for the first time in a while, there was no hesitation—no uncertainty, just the trust you had both worked so hard to build. you knew, without a doubt, that you were on the path toward something real, something lasting.

as the weeks turned into months, your relationship deepened. you celebrated the victories, like making it through tests or a successful art exhibit hyunjin had been part of. and you supported each other through the challenges—nights when stress weighed heavy, when old fears resurfaced, but you faced them together. 

it was one night, after you two came stumbling into your dorm, both a little tipsy from wine and full from the dinner he paid for, when hyunjin decided to take the next steps with you. he clung to you as you both maneuvered around your dorm, giggling and muttering sweet words in your ear. 

it wasn’t until you felt his hard on pressed against your back that you realized just why he was being so touchy. 

hyunjin’s arms circled your waist from behind as he rested his chin on your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin. his hands, firm yet gentle, explored the curve of your hips, making your pulse quicken.

"you’re so beautiful," he murmured softly, his voice low and full of adoration. his lips brushed the side of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine.

you turned in his arms to face him, your cheeks flushed from both the wine and the intensity in his gaze. his eyes, dark and full of unspoken emotion, searched yours, silently asking for permission.

“hyunjin…” you whispered, unsure of what to say but unwilling to pull away.

he cupped your face, his thumb tracing your cheek with a tenderness that made your heart race. "tell me if this is too much," he said softly, his forehead resting against yours.

you hesitated for only a moment before nodding, your hands finding their way to his chest. “it’s not too much,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

his lips danced with yours, and you were both tangled on the bed, hands roaming each others bodies within mere seconds. hyunjin rubbed the back of your thigh, his hands barely grazing your skirt. “are you sure? we don’t have to, you know.” 

you nodded, running your fingers along his hair, then caressing his cheek. “im not quite ready to go all the way, but.. that doesn’t mean we cant do anything, right?” you tilted your head as you asked, a small smile on your face. hyunjin grinned and nodded, giving your thigh a squeeze. “right. we can do whatever you want.” his eyes searched yours, slightly hopeful. 

he wanted you. he wanted to make you feel good. 

“ill tell you if i want to stop,” you said quietly, before leaning in and connecting your lips with his once again. 

hyunjin’s hands continued their exploration, his touch gentle yet firm, as if he was memorizing every inch of you. he kept his movements deliberate, mindful of your boundaries, but his eagerness was evident in the way his breath quickened and his lips grew more fervent against yours.

his fingers traced the edge of your skirt, sending shivers down your spine. when his hand slid under the fabric to rest against the fabric of your panties, you gasped, your body instinctively arching closer to him. he paused, his dark eyes locking onto yours, gauging your reaction. he slowly rubbed your clit through your panties, letting out a choked groan feeling the wet patch. 

“tell me if this feels good,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low.

“it does,” you whispered, your fingers tightening their grip on his shirt.

his hand slid under your panties, making you blush and squirm. he broke eye contact to look where his hand was, between your legs. your wetness greeted him immediately, coating his fingers and making his movements slick and quick. “so wet,” he dipped his middle finger against your entrance before bringing his fingertips back up to your clit.

you moaned, too flustered and worked up to respond to him. however, you did open your legs more for him, making him smirk. he leaned down, pressing kisses to your neck. he fought with his inner conscience, debating on if he should move forward with what he was wanting to do. 

he gave your lips one last kiss before sitting up and pulling his hand out from your panties. you whined from the loss of contact, but the sight in front of you just spurred you on once more. he sucked your essence off his fingers, pulling off them with a wet pop. “fuck, you taste good..” he kneeled in front of you on the bed, rubbing your thighs. “can i go down on you, baby?” 

you squirmed at the boldness of his words, but you nodded. within an instant your skirt was tugged off your legs, along with your panties. hyunjin’s mouth watered as he pried your legs apart, exposing your wet, needy cunt to his gaze.

 without hesitation, he laid on his stomach, kissing your inner thighs before planting a kiss right on your mound. he leaned down and inhaled your scent briefly before licking a stripe along your slit. you shivered, the delicate stroke of his tongue making your head spin. 

you had never been in this position before, so vulnerable. and you had definitely never felt these sensations before. it was almost too much for you to handle in one night. 

hyunjin gave each of your lips a soft suck before his tongue flicked on your clit, making your thighs shake and snake around his head. you let out a whine, your back arching. hyunjins arms wrapped around your thighs, holding you down and against his eager face. 

you squirmed, almost running from the intensity of his tongue’s movements. he wrapped his full lips around your clit, giving it a small suckle. you cried out, throwing your head back. he smirked against your sensitive flesh, burying his face into your cunt and suckling more for you. 

within mere moments, you came undone, your thighs clamping around his head, daring to suffocate him between your thighs. “o-oh my god,” you panted, your thighs trembling intensely. 

he licked you clean, humming at the taste of your nectar before releasing from your lips with a wet pop. he sat up, and ou tugged him back down immediately, needing more kisses. you were all dazed from your orgasm and greedy for more of his touch. he chuckled against your lips, petting your hair gently. “you okay?” 

you nodded, your eyes glassy and twinkling with lust. you felt his length prodding against your thigh, and you looked down to see it. the size of it made your tummy twist. hyunjin knew where you were looking, and the sight of you acknowledging it made his cock twitch against you.

“you’re.. so.” you trailed off, licking your lips and looking up into his eyes. “yeah,” he lay next to you, rubbing circles on your hips. “i can help,” you said eagerly. you wanted to make him feel good as well. 

he smiled a little, then nodded, laying back as he unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his pants. you swallowed nervously, looking him over. he slowly pushed his pants and boxers down, making his cock spring up against his slightly clothed tummy. he looked up at you, sensing your nervousness. 

he reached down and stroked himself, looking you over. “have you.. done this before?” he asked, his tone soft and unjudging. you blushed, shaking your head. you knew you wanted to help him, but admittedly, you had never messed around with a guy before. you didn’t even know where to start. 

he nodded in understanding, his hand slowing on his shaft. “show me.” you said, just above a whisper. “show me how.” 

hyunjins stomach flipped at your words, and he got impossibly harder. he nodded, reaching out for your hand. “okay.. wrap your hand around like this,” he guided you, his hand wrapped around yours as he showed you how to grip and stroke his cock. it was hot, hard, but also strangely squishy.

you quickly got the hang of it, and he let out a low groan, his head falling back into the pillow. “f-fuck, like that,” he muttered, watching your hand pump up and down with more and more confidence. your fist reached all the way up to his tip, gripping and massaging it deliciously. he let out a louder groan this time, his hips bucking. 

you blushed, his reactions making heat and wetness pool between your legs again. you felt proud that you were able to make him feel so good with your hand alone, but you wanted to push your limits, you wanted to use your mouth on him too. 

so, you leaned down, catching him by surprise. you cautiously licked the bead of precum off his tip, making him shudder. “you don’t have to,” he cupped your cheek, making you nuzzle his palm. “i want to,” you objected, leaning down and licking his tip again, lightly digging your tongue into his slit. you swirled your tongue around, gauging what he liked and what brought you the best reactions. 

it didn’t take long for you to have his cock head fully in your mouth as you stroked him. you suckled just the tip for him, your hands stroking the rest of his length. “fuck, you’re a natural,” he muttered, his eyes rolling back as he braced himself for his orgasm. “gonna make me cum already.”

his words spurred you on, and you redoubled your efforts, hollowing your cheeks and suckling with more fervor. 

he growled, his hips bucking as he tried to hold back his orgasm. “i-im cumming,” he warned you, his cock twitching in your mouth/hands. you pulled your mouth off, still stroking him through his climax. he fucked your fist, his hand gripping your forearm as he rode out his high. a slew of profanities and babbles left his lips.

his load spurted onto your hand and his tummy, making quite the mess. 

for a moment, hyunjin lay there, boneless and spent. however, he didn't want you to sit there with his mess on your hand, so he reached over to your nightstand and grabbed your tissues, helping clean himself and you up.

you both cleaned yourselves up and put on any remainder of clothes that was needed, then you lay together, cuddling for a bit before he spoke up. “did you like everything? it wasn’t too much, was it?” 

you shook your head no, smiling up at him. “not at all. it was perfect. thank you.” you beamed, rubbing his chest. he tightened his arm around you, kissing the top of your head. “good.” 

the soft glow of the early morning light crept through your dorm curtains, casting a warm, golden hue across the room. you lay nestled in hyunjin’s arms, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat soothing you. for a moment, the world outside your little bubble didn’t exist—no classes, no deadlines, no worries. just the quiet, comforting presence of the boy beside you.

“stay a little longer?” you murmured, your voice still groggy from sleep.

hyunjin glanced at the clock and chuckled softly. “i think i can manage that. besides,” he added, brushing a strand of hair from your face, “i don’t think i’m ready to leave just yet.”

you smiled, closing your eyes as his fingertips traced gentle patterns along your arm. this felt right—easy, natural, and full of something unspoken yet undeniable.

the two of you spent the morning like that, exchanging quiet words and lingering touches. hyunjin opened up about his childhood memories and his dreams of hosting his own art exhibit someday. you shared your aspirations, your fears, and the small, silly details that felt too trivial to tell anyone else but seemed to fascinate him.

eventually, the world started to intrude, as it always does. your phone buzzed with notifications, and hyunjin’s reminder alarm went off, signaling that time was running short. he groaned dramatically, burying his face in your shoulder.

“duty calls,” he sighed.

you laughed softly, nudging him to sit up. “i guess so. but thank you… for everything.”

he leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. “thank you for trusting me. for letting me be here with you.”

as he laced up his sneakers and prepared to leave, hyunjin paused at the door. his gaze met yours, and there was something in his expression—vulnerability, affection, and a promise unspoken.

“i’ll see you later?” 

“definitely.” 

tags: @ritsmith @bluesungology @jeonginsleftcheek @babigriin

part 2 taglist: @anniexx17 @gnabnahcbby @skzam03 @stayjinnie @ppeachyttae @merve0320 @micr0c0soms @stay-forever4419 @fallenangel7777777 @hyyunjinnn

©chansdoll do not repost, translate, or copy my works in any way, shape, or form.

[eva-does-their-best]

Going from "I'm not one of those trans people who do x or y" to "I am so one of those and I should have not judged them and I am glad that I got rid of the normative judgemental attitude I used to have".

Going from "I'm just a lesbian so liking trans men is wrong i don't want to deny their manhood" to "My sexuality is weird and that is fine, I like who I like despite the theoretical implications of it and I am not denying anyone's identity because I like them for who they are and respect them no matter what".

Going from "I'm just a regular binary she/her woman" to "I'm a girl and a woman but my dissociation and life experiences also make me feel impersonal so I can use it/its and I'm not weird for it, i wouldn't even be weird if I had no justification either, I can even use doll pronouns because I like them and they make me feel warm and happy and that is what matters".

Going from "Ok so these are all the labels with their very clear definitions and meanings and everything else is internet quirky stuff" to "I literally would not know how to explain what you are and I won't force you to explain it if you don't want, I don't need to understand it to accept you, you are valid and loved. If you instead want to explain it to me I'll do my best to learn and defend it whenever I can".

Going from "I am so sad, frustrated, angry and in pain because I will never be or look cis" to "I actually don't like the cis normative look, I don't want to cispass, I like trans beauty but specifically I like me beauty, the one where I am still myself but a more me version of myself. The world constantly told me what I should aspire to be and look like and like and I was brainwashed for so long but now I've broken free and am free to fully love myself and everyone else in this world who ever thought they were weird or ugly because my eyes find so much beauty in everything and everyone!"

Going from "Ew furries" to "I don't want to make fun of people who deviate from the norm because that is exactly what happens to me and we should all be together or else we are treating ourselves as exceptions and exceptions are easily revoked, I will learn to love everyone against a brain poisoned with conservativism and "normality". I like rats I should make a rat fursona or smth it would be so cute it'd so represent me :3".

Going from "I am useless, lazy, falling behind, a disappointment" to "I am physically and mentally disabled, there have never been accomodations for me in any aspect of my life and the intersectionalities of gender, sexuality, economical situation, etc. have made my life extremely difficult, I forgive myself for both failing and for blaming myself, I will seek help and advocate for myself to the best of my abilities and I will respect my limits in this world that was not made for people like me".

Learning is hard, changing is scary, but it's mostly just your brain being a conservative for the sake of commodity, safety and self-preservation, sometimes you need to fight your brain in a war of attrition but when you finally win you'll be so much happier.

I am so much happier now, my world is bigger and brighter and I see everyone and everything with a new, beautiful light. I look back on how I was and how I thought and how the world works and it all looks so much worse and grey, I am not going back there, this new mind is my home now.

And the best part is that I know I will keep learning more and changing more and the world and this life will keep getting better and better🥰.

[hazzashouse]

The Weight of a Name PART I

Author’s Note: This was my first attempt at writing for Anthony Bridgerton, and I loved delving into his intensity and passion. I’m considering writing a part two—let me know if you’d like to see where this story goes!

Triggers: Emotional confrontation, feelings of rejection, societal pressure

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Female!Reader

Word Count: 1,703

Summary: When Anthony Bridgerton’s relentless pursuit of you reaches its breaking point, a fiery confrontation reveals the depths of his feelings.

PART TWO: here

The soft hum of violins and lilting laughter echoed throughout the ballroom. It was a scene of perfection, one carefully orchestrated by the host to impress even the most critical members of the ton. You moved with grace, your every step measured and deliberate, but your mind was far from composed.

Anthony Bridgerton was watching you.

You had felt his eyes on you all evening, and no matter how hard you tried to shake the weight of his gaze, it lingered. It wasn’t just that he watched—it was the way he looked at you. As if he already had you. As if his claim was inevitable.

But Anthony Bridgerton wasn’t the kind of man you trusted easily. His reputation was whispered about behind fans and through veiled glances. He was handsome, yes, and powerful, but he was also dangerous. The stories of his past were enough to make even the boldest debutantes wary.

You had no intention of falling for a man like him.

————————

Later that evening, you had sought refuge on the balcony, eager for a moment of quiet. The cool air kissed your skin as you inhaled deeply, savoring the temporary escape. But your peace was short-lived.

“You’re avoiding me.”

The low, irritated voice made you stiffen. You turned to find Anthony standing just beyond the balcony doors, his jaw set and his dark eyes locked on you.

“I wasn’t aware I was obligated to seek you out,” you replied evenly, though your voice betrayed a hint of exasperation.

Anthony stepped closer, his movements deliberate. “You know precisely what I mean,” he said, his tone clipped. “I’ve been trying to speak with you all evening, but you’ve been too busy entertaining every other man in this room.”

Your temper flared, and you straightened your spine. “Perhaps that’s because every other man in this room doesn’t believe he has some divine right to my attention.”

Anthony’s eyes narrowed, and he took another step closer. “Is that truly what you think of me?” he asked, his voice low but seething.

“What else am I to think?” you shot back, your voice rising. “You stride into every room as if the world should bow at your feet, as if no one could possibly resist the great Viscount Bridgerton. Well, I’m not one of your conquests, my lord, and I won’t be treated as such.”

Anthony’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, he said nothing. But then he stepped even closer, his voice dropping to a near-growl. “You think I’m trying to conquer you? That this is some sort of game to me? I have been chasing you for months. I’ve ignored every other debutante, turned down every match my mother has pushed my way, and still, you look at me as if I’m nothing more than a rogue.”

Your chest heaved as his words hit their mark. “And why shouldn’t I?” you demanded, your voice trembling with emotion. “Do you deny it? Do you deny the countless women, the scandalous liaisons, the reputation you’ve so carefully crafted? How am I to believe you would ever honor a vow made to me when you’ve broken so many others?”

Anthony flinched, and for a moment, his mask slipped. There was pain in his eyes, a vulnerability you hadn’t expected. “I am not proud of my past,” he said quietly. “But you—you’ve made me want to be better. To be more than what they say I am.”

You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “And I’m supposed to believe that? Because you’ve paid me a few compliments and danced with me a handful of times? Forgive me, my lord, but I’ve seen how easily you charm others. I won’t be another name on your list.”

Anthony’s temper snapped, and he grabbed your wrist—not harshly, but firmly enough to stop you from walking away. “You don’t understand what you’re doing to me,” he said, his voice rough and urgent. “I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, I can’t think of anything but you. Every time I see you with another man, it feels like a knife to my chest. And yet, you look at me as if I’m nothing, as if I’m unworthy of even your consideration.”

His words hit you like a tidal wave, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. His grip on your wrist softened, and he took a step back, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

“You don’t know what it’s like,” he continued, his voice quieter now but no less intense. “To feel so completely undone by someone. To want them so desperately, so utterly, and to know they see you as nothing more than a mistake waiting to happen.”

Your eyes stung with unshed tears, but you refused to let them fall. “Do you think this is easy for me?” you asked, your voice cracking. “Do you think I enjoy rejecting you, knowing I might be giving up on something—” You stopped yourself, shaking your head. “But I can’t ignore the part of me that’s terrified you’ll hurt me. That I’ll wake up one day and realize I was nothing more than a passing infatuation to you.”

Anthony stared at you, his chest heaving. “You think I would hurt you?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “After everything I’ve done to prove myself to you?”

“What have you done, Anthony?” you demanded, your voice rising again. “You’ve watched me from across ballrooms and interrupted my dances, but have you ever truly shown me who you are? Or are you still hiding behind the charm and arrogance that the ton has come to expect from you?”

The silence that followed was deafening. Anthony’s jaw clenched, and his hands curled into fists at his sides. “You’re right,” he said finally, his voice trembling with restraint. “You don’t know who I am. But that’s because you’ve never given me the chance to show you.”

Your heart ached at the raw emotion in his voice, but you refused to back down. “Perhaps I would have, if I believed you were capable of being the man I need.”

His eyes darkened, and for a moment, you thought he might argue. But then he stepped back, his expression hardening into one of cold resolve. “You’ll regret this,” he said quietly, his voice laced with both pain and anger. “You’ll regret not taking the chance when you had it.”

And with that, he turned on his heel and disappeared into the shadows, leaving you alone on the balcony with your heart pounding and your hands shaking.

As you stared after him, a single thought echoed in your mind.

Had you made a mistake?

————————

PART TWO: here

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Idia Shroud: The Daily Grind

Oooh, his limited-edition shirt (from a live performance, implying he actually may have attended a concert in-person??) has the Fates on it! Idia also talks about getting birthday messages from his mobile games… True Gamer rep... though I cannot forgive him using an all-in-one cream for his face don’t let Vil hear—

THAT GROOVY IS TAINTED 😭 The less I say about it, the better…

Rise and Shine!

Idia Shroud lived by numbers. Measurements, code, games. They were dependable things, easily controlled and predictable, unlike the fleshy meat sacks called humans. The most improbable creatures of all.

The luck of the draw had been unkind to him this year. A test ("In person attendance is required, Shroud," Trein had told him sternly), on his birthday! If a higher being existed out there, Idia was certain he was their least favorite child.

Touching grass? Tch, so annoying.

Idia drew out a ragged groan and rolled his neck, which still ached from having slept upright in his gaming chair. Clasped in his hands was a rectangle, its screen glowing as one of his many mobile games booted up. He had a list to run through, missions to complete--all a part of his routine.

Another day. Better do my dailies before heading out.

He sighed.

A familiar home screen unfolded before his eyes. It was a lounge, newly refurbished and dipped in a neon glow. Balloons clouded the ceiling, banners and streamers were strung up, confetti dusting the floors. Jewel-colored flowers in crystal vases and sumptuous dishes crowded the avaliable space on tables. On special occasions, the background was automatically decorated in honor of the holidays.

A grinning anime girl faded in. She was dressed in a fluffy cloak and hat, keeping her cozy for the winter season. This particular version of her was a SSR he had dumped money into to max out (no expense spared for the best girl).

"Happy birthday, Gloomurai!" she chirped, parroting the same phrase that she did to all players once a year. "Geez, did you sleep in again? Wakey, wakey! How are you going to enjoy your birthday if you're only half-awake for all of it? ... Wh-What? You're wondering if I prepared anything for you? Don't be stupid. I-It's not like... I... like you or anything..."

"Hihihihi... Aaaah, the way she runs hot and cold is so cute, just the best! This is peak content!" Idia chuckled to himself. Here, in the comfort of his private quarters.

Beep, beep, beep!

Idia yelped and leapt up in his seat, nearly dropped his phone. He squinted at the blinking envelope icon that had overtaken the screen.

"... What? A new message?"

Who's it from? I-I don't talk to any of my classmates enough for them to contact me out of the blue like this... C-Could it be Riddle-shi shouting at me to attend the next dorm leader meeting?

Idia cautiously opened the message. He winced as he braced himself for the redhead's shouting (all caps) from the other end.

A cheerful jingled played, followed by pixelated fireworks popping off. Ortho exploded forth from the envelope with a giggle, the words HAPPY BIRTHDAY blinking on either side of him. The video message began to roll.

"Gooood morning, nii-san!" his little brother cried. "Did you get a good night's sleep? I hope so, because you'll need all that energy for your exam--and your birthday party afterwards!"

"B-Birthday party? When did I agree to attend that...?" Idia mumbled, running a hand through his fiery hair.

The prerecorded Ortho continued. "But I know you. You're probably thinking, 'Birthday party? When did I agree to attend that...?' ... Right?"

H-He got me nailed word for word!!

"We can't have you shut away in your bedroom as soon as you're done with that test! So to make sure you don't try and squirm out of socializing, I've recruited a guest character for an escort mission to your class and then to the birthday party afterwards. They'll be by to pick you up at 7:30 am. See you then, nii-san!"

Ortho waved farewell before he blipped out of existence. Idia sprung out of his gaming chair, slick with sweat from a freshly sprung, anxiety-induced leak. He stared at his phone in disbelief, his eyes wide and bugged out.

"D-Did I... Did I hear that message right?! S-Someone's coming to escort me to class?! But the time right now is…!!”

Knock, knock, knock!

“E-Eeeep!!”

This time, he did drop his phone. Its fall was cushioned by the mountain of cardboard boxes, opened chip bags, and volumes of manga loitering on the floor. The impact restarted the video message: “Gooood morning, nii-san! Did you have a good night’s sleep?”

“Idia-senpai?” a voice called out, joining Ortho’s. Your voice. “Are you there? I’m here to grab you for class.”

Th-Them?! He turned paler than Death, even as his cheeks and the tips of his hair burned bright pink. Why… wh-why did Ortho have to choose THEM for this?!

“H-Hold on a minute!” Idia called out.

He crumpled to his knees and gathered as much of his junk as he could, shoveling it into convenient hiding places to create the illusion of tidiness. His closet, under his bed, empty boxes and bookshelf space.

“How much longer?” you asked worriedly from the other side of the door. “You might be late at this rate—and you know how Professor Trein can be about tardiness.”

“A-Almost…!!”

Idia grabbed his phone and got back up, glancing at himself in the reflection of his monitor. His bangs had gone awry, covering one eye in cobalt bangs. He hurriedly brushed them away, trying to get his hair to behave as best he could, then attempted to straighten out the creases in his pajamas.

Screw the school uniform. There was no time left to make himself any more presentable than this. He’d have to deal with the disapproving shake of his teacher’s head when he slumped in. If was preferable to keeping you waiting.

His temperature spiked again. Pink became red. He waved frantic hands at his hair, urging them to cool off back to blue.

Calm down. C-Calm down, you’ve got this!! You’ve played so many dating sims, summon that main character charm!

But in real life, there were no clearly defined routes to head on. No dialogue options to choose or love flags to trip. No resets, should he fail miserably. He was left on his own to fumble through social interactions—and their consequences.

He shambled over to his door and, swallowing hard, cracked it open. A sliver of light poured in from the outside, along with your smiling face. He was a monster crammed into a gap, and you were his savior.

“There you are!”

Idia tried to picture a brazen male lead. The sort of guy that leaned against doorframes with a cocky smirk and casually went, “Hey, you.”

Nope, nope, nope!!! WAY too cringe! I-I can’t say that like I'm a confident alpha dudebro…! I can’t…!!

Idia froze, his mind defaulting to a 404 error. Even his heart seemed to stop, seized by clawing panic.

“H-Hey,” he said meekly.

"Happy birthday, Idia-senpai.” You blinked, slowly taking him in. "Did you sleep in again?"

E-Eh…? What is this weird sense of deja vu? They sound almost exactly like the birthday login lines from earlier... e-except it's a real person this time, not a fictional character...

The pace of his heartbeat quickened.

S-Something’s wrong with me. Th-This reaction’s definitely not normal!!

He flushed again, fervid as a flame. Short circuiting, overheating.

“Er… Idia-senpai? Are you feeling okay? Your hair, it’s going haywire, shifting colors like a lava lamp,” you vaguely gestured. “And you’re still in your pajamas. You hardly look ready to leave your room."

“I-I’m fine!” he squeaked. “I wasn’t expecting a guest, s-so… I didn’t prepare to receive… any... one…” Idia trailed off.

"Hehe. How are you going to enjoy your birthday if you're only half-awake for all of it?" You extended a hand to him. "Come on, it’s time to wake up.”

Just like the greeting from the mobile game.

Idia shyly ducked behind his door, hiding his burning face.

Is this a dream? If it is, I don't know if I want to wake up from it.

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

𝘿𝘼𝙔 𝙀𝙄𝙂𝙃𝙏: Cockwarming w/ Sam Winchester

a/n: okay so yeah, what if i projected completely onto this fic? i am only a woman, and ovulation week is utter hell, so forgive me if i have to take it out on fictional characters 🙄

masterlist | kinktober masterlist | AO3

When you’re ovulating, Sam is ashamed to say that he can’t keep up with your needs sometimes.

There was a time when he was a spry young buck that could go round after exhausting round, but as he ages and the harder he works, more than two rounds are few and far in-between.

He knows when it’s time, because you get that ravenous look in your eye whenever he rambles about a case, or when you admire his hands when they trail down whatever ancient text he’s managed to get his hands on.

Now listen, he’s stared death in the face more than once in his life, but sometimes you’re so horny, he fears that you may actually eat him.

Like right now, you’re perched in his lap all but eating lips with the way you envelope them in yours, your tongue aggressively searching his mouth. Sam can feel the mixture of your shared spit bubbling at the corner of each other’s mouths. 

You’re pinned between the table and him, and you’ve tugged him so far into your body that he’s convinced you’re trying to mold the two of you together. It doesn’t help that you’re desperately grinding down into his lap in search of some friction.

He forces his lips away from yours and a pout instantly finds its way on your face, but you let him go, tucking a strand of rogue brown hair back behind his ear.

“Honey,” Sam begins, and his voice is hoarse. “What’s gotten into you?” His question ends in a chuckle, because he knows exactly what’s wrong with you. “I ate you out this morning. You can’t possibly tell me you need more.” 

“Sam.” You huff out. “I’m sorry. It’s just… you know – you just… looked so sexy here all concentrated and stuff and I just…” You grind down on him for emphasis. “‘Just need to have you, need your cock. Please, Sam.” You’re whimpering in his neck by now; a pleading, rutting mess of need.

There’s no choice in fighting it because he’s growing hard in his jeans that now all of a sudden feel way too fucking tight.

“Okay, okay. I got you sweetheart.” He murmurs, and the hot fan of his breath caresses the shell of your ear. You let out a sigh that couldn’t be mistaken as one anything other than relief. 

You’re kissing again.

Both of your hands are buried in the soft locks of his hair, pulling him possibly closer to you to the point where you’re arching into the table, the polished wood of it digging into your lower back. 

The pain doesn’t deter you, even as one of his fingers traces the waistband of your shorts. “I’m not wearing panties.” You breathe against his lips. “Don’t need any prep either, just need you.”

“Want to cockwarm me, baby? Want to sit here all day full of me?” Sam all but growls and you shiver. “Please.” It’s a whispered plea. “Get up and turn around.”

You scramble to follow, and the material of your shorts are baggy enough that you can pull the crotch part of it to the side. You hear Sam fumble with the belt and zipper of his pants before he finally frees himself from the confines of them.

“Sit down.”

One of your hand braces itself on the flat surface in front of you, the other pulling the material of your shorts to the side. Sam holds you steady on your hip, holding his cock up so you can sink down easily.

You gasp when the tip of dick breaches your entrance, the telltale burn of him being enough to muddle your already arousal strained mind. It doesn't hurt, just a mild discomfort until you bottom out completely.

His thighs are warm and sturdy under you, both of his palms squeeze your waist as you adjust to him, his forehead pressing against the back of your damp neck. You’re breathing heavily until you finally relax, and when you do, you swear you would have melted.

“Good?” Sam asked heavily.

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @murdadixon @hallecarey1 @bunnybabe-babydoll @khxna @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus

“Mhm.” Your agreement was a borderline moan, “So good.”

[rotagnus]

messages from god & the universe <3

happy wednesday babies! i hope all of you are doing well. here is a little pac with guidance for all of you. if you guys are wondering why i am posting so much, i have a lot of free time on my hands and am trying to grow my intuition and my faith. i hope you guys enjoy this reading!! much love <3

pile 1.

the signs have been pouring in for you, and this is your permission to take them into your heart. a lot of you are hesitant, and do not want to believe that what you've seen is a sign, specifically the sign that's been lingering in your thoughts more than most. i am hear to tell you that this is what you think it is. a lot of you also seem to feel like you're always watching the happiness go by due to your own morals...many of the people you know have been experiencing joys lately that you have not given yourself access to.

don't worry. God has a plan for you, the universe, whatever you hold belief in. a lot of you have been finding joys in putting all of yourself into activities...maybe over-training, studying too hard, et cetera. take a break. i know you don't want to focus on these things that have been bothering you, but you should. the answer is right there. you'll be glowing, soon. your happiness will return to you, and it'll be visible; your skin might clear up, you might look better, you know what i mean? i love you, the universe/God does, and i assure you that you can take a deep breath and trust, trust that you will be okay.

pile 2.

a lot of you have experienced a heartbreak recently. this will uplift you, and it is not a sign that God/the universe has left you. sometimes, when everything is breaking; it's a sign that it's all coming together. everything will clear up soon. sometimes, you are meant to go on a journey alone; but you are never alone. your ancestors, guardian angels, higher beings...they're all with you. things have been going out of your life for a reason; bad ones permanently, good ones temporarily. but you must not focus on those right now. uplift your heart. you're powerful because you have a strong sense of compassion and kindness. utilize that. understand that not everyone wants to hurt you.

there are a pair of eyes on you, watching you. be wary of people, and be observant. your power lies in your heart, in your ability to forgive others. with the two of hearts, here, this may signify a union between you and something else, or someone else. you are divinely protected, and you need to have more trust in what is going to happen. it'll happen to better you. the universe is telling me to tell you that it's got you covered, on its own timing. so relax. also, the sense of discomfort you have will be uplifted.

pile 3.

there is a sense of vagueness and mystery in your life. cycles are ending, and you've come out glowing and strong. you've been reborn into a burning phoenix. this change has been for the better; think of who you were, particularly in the winter of 2024, the early months (november, december). you were most likely miserable; if not, this pile isn't for you, darling. you were closed off emotionally and you lost so many parts of yourself you believed that soon you would be nothing but empty space.

God/the universe is telling you to open your heart up. you have so many wants...so many desires, but you feel as if you'll lose this new you if you even dare to open up again. you're sensitive, easily hurt, and with this new change, it's hard for you to navigate this path. you're a lamb. the most important advice here is to be able to open up, but follow your judgements with people. trust the little voice in your ear. be vulnerable, be you, but with the right people. discernment is crucial. you will be tested to see if you've learned; so be prepared. but this new cycle is good. you needed this new start.

[evermore-fashion]

Did I make a mistake?

As you're all well aware of I said goodbye to my blogs and Tumblr thinking my decision was final. However after reading all your wonderful messages I started to have doubts about my decision. So for the last few weeks I've been trying to pinpoint why I thought I had fallen out of love with high end fashion as well as Tumblr itself and the answer has been in front of my face for the best part of four years. A broken down friendship that has been plaguing my mental health… until recently and I'm going to finally explain why. I had a best friend for the best part of 15 years that went downhill both slowly and unexpectedly. We met on a forum back in 2005 and hit it off instantly. We then met up and went on various holidays, attended concerts together, did mini weekend breaks away and got to know each other's families really well. More importantly they were the only person in my life who knew about this blog and shared my love for high end fashion. Like most friendships though it had its ups and downs but no matter what we always gravitated back towards one another, until March 2020. A week or so before COVID and lockdown took hold of our lives they told me they had met someone. I was genuinely happy for them, except for the fact they had let slip that I was the last person to know. This broke my heart and their trust as they continued to let slip more details that indicated that I was being pushed out in favour of a new crowd (aka university friends who they had told me they disliked a few months beforehand) alongside their new partner. They stayed with their partner on and off throughout COVID and I was either pushed out the door or let back in depending on their relationship status. The relationship came to an end for good towards the end of 2022 and as always I was let back into their life with plans for 2023 being made. However I held back knowing the hurt it would cause me if things suddenly changed again. This was also my breaking point with them as I wanted to protect my heart from anymore hurt, and I believe this is where my love for creativity began to faulter. Whilst I found my love for gaming I felt this mental block around Evermore-Fashion and Evermore-Grimoire which I thought was down to my passions changing. I was clearly wrong. The friendship was up and down for another six months, until last summer. They had got back in contact with me despite the fact they had started acting cold towards me which manifested in a crap Christmas and Birthday. Yet I was still willing to hear their side of the story, but it never came as they ghosted me and I haven't spoken to them since which hasn't been fun to deal with both mentally and emotionally. Although I now fully believe this is what was killing my spirit and everything I had loved for so long. Anyway fast forward to January 2024, I've said goodbye to my blogs and Tumblr when lo and behold I come across a social media post that changed everything. The ex friend had written something personal that contradicted everything they had told me (over their relationship break up) which not only angered me but it lit a fire under my butt to stop stewing in the "what ifs?" as well as holding on to a small bit of hope that they'd finally apologise for treating me like a piece of shit on the back of their shoe for so long. Not only that but I started to miss why I enjoyed being online in the first place. I checked out Vogue to see what was occurring during Paris Fashion Week and I yearned to share the Spring 2024 Couture collections on Tumblr (even though I still think it's still a toxic cesspit). Yes I could easily start this up on Wordpress or Instagram but let's face it, Tumblr is still the easiest place to start blogging creatively. So here I am. The fog surrounding my love for fashion has lifted alongside the mental and emotional baggage I've been holding on to for far too long. There's just one thing I'm still wondering though… do you guys forgive me (as I feel like I've messed you all around ) and is it okay to come back? 🥹

[arolesbianism]

Oh baby I am getting way to ambitious with my current oni run for someone who's laptop starts screaming anytime it opens steam

[pascaloverx]

DEVIL (+18)

Summary: You are a demonic creature, capable of doing whatever you please, whenever you wish. Your goal on Earth is to terrorize as many souls as possible. Until, in a small community, you find the perfect victim for your mischievous games: Father Charlie Mayhew.

Author's Note: Honestly, I’m not sure if this story will have more than one chapter, but it will contain adult content and inappropriate language. Violence may also appear. Frankly, I just needed to write something about this character portrayed by Nicholas Alexander Chavez. The character and others, apart from Y/N, are not my creation. They belong to the Grotesquerie (2024) universe created by Ryan Murphy. To anyone reading this story, I hope you enjoy it.

AO3 LINK TWO

ONE

How tedious human life is. Not to offend anyone, but you were already tired of all the petty, complicated, and disjointed problems humans have. Not doing what they want, fearing consequences, and not always seeking to take advantage of others makes humans seem so weak. Humans need automobiles to move around, they have no special powers, they feel guilty for the slightest act, and when they sin, they believe a priest can purify their wrongdoings.

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. At least that's what the movies say I should say when I enter a confessional. Unless you'd prefer something more modern, like, 'Father, I really messed up. I committed an affront to good morals. Blah blah blah…'" You enter Father Charlie Mayhew's confessional, waiting for his response. You can hear the muffled chuckle he lets out at your casual way of speaking.

"It doesn't seem to me that you are truly repentant. Taking advantage of the informality with which you are speaking to me, may I ask what brings you here?" For a human, he has a voice that, in its more serious and deep tone, can be charming; it's easy to understand why he became a priest. With a voice like that, he could easily persuade you to be a devoted daughter of God, even if you were, in truth, a demon.

“Let’s say it was a call of nature. In truth, I’ve felt impure ever since I witnessed something terrible.” You say, trying to sound as human as possible, feeling as if your skin were burning from being inside the church. Just kidding; in reality, demons can be anywhere, even in religious places.

"What is it, my dear faithful of the Lord, that you witnessed?" Father Mayhew speaks with a certain nonchalance, as if he's almost sure he knows your answer. You try to catch a glimpse of him through the confessional booth’s small openings. He seems like the very embodiment of sin, perfectly crafted for thirsty thoughts.

"Father, I witnessed a delightful scene. It was a priest known for his youthful appearance and modern style, masturbating while thinking about the beautiful nun he had recently met. In fact, there was another moment that I witnessed. The moment when this same priest let the nun touch him in a sinful way. Oh, this priest's mind could only hope that these private moments would continue." You provoke him, subtly revealing that you know of his most intimate sins. The priest immediately steps out of his booth and opens the door to yours. His expression is furious, while you wear your most mischievous smile. Your attire catches him off guard, certainly. You’re dressed in a nun's habit, but entirely unlike the usual. Yours is red—the color of blood—with black lace details. It is the perfect blend of religion and sin, a nun’s habit styled like lingerie.

"What are you?" the priest asks, not in fear, but with a steady gaze fixed on you. You rise and slowly walk toward him, your steps deliberate, as he retreats. You can see his eyes searching for answers, trying to comprehend what you are.

"I am merely a concerned devotee, worried about who is managing this church, of course. Father, it shouldn’t be me reminding you that sin is wrong. But I think you already know it’s wrong—you just can’t stop. If the wounds on your back tell me anything, it’s that you enjoy punishing yourself for being a naughty boy. Let’s just say I’m your newest form of penance." You speak as you circle around Father Mayhew, who watches you with a gaze of fascination. In truth, you had peeked into the mortal priest’s sinful mind, discovering exactly how to become an irresistible vision for him.

"Why are you tormenting me?" Father Mayhew keeps his eyes fixed on you as you walk through the church, surveying what is supposed to be sacred ground. It’s remarkable, entering the so-called house of God, where sins lurk behind the angelic façade, just as Father Mayhew hides his dark thoughts beneath his cassock. You smile as your fingers glide over the candles, feeling the warmth of their flames between your fingertips.

"Me? Tormenting you? I’m simply fascinated by that devilishly handsome face of yours and the way you blend love for religion with the lust locked away inside you. Sister Megan must have had quite the time running her little fingers over you. Honestly, you, Father, are trouble, and I want to help you." You speak, captivated by the lust in his eyes, even as he remains partly afraid that you might be a punishment from the devil himself. You move closer, touching his cassock, tracing your finger over the places where he is wounded, where he hurt himself.

"More…" he whispers, closing his eyes as he feels your touch. He begins to moan softly from the pain you’re inflicting. Your fingers tighten their grip on the bruises on his back as he groans heavily. You bring your lips closer to the back of his neck, placing a few kisses there.

"Father, Father, Father. You're visibly excited in the middle of the church. What would the Bishop say about this? Or your faithful and devoted followers, who trust that their priest will be the purest of men?" You speak softly against the back of his neck, feeling him shiver. He turns to look at you, eyes thirsty for the pleasure of the flesh.

"It doesn’t matter, not really. 1 John 1:9, 'If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.' God, in His glory, will understand that in the face of temptation, I could not resist my sinful nature, and for that, I have failed in His eyes." Father Mayhew speaks, his eyes lingering on every detail of your face, but especially your lips. In his depraved mind, he’s already imagining. Imagining how his cock would fit perfectly between your lips, or how your moans must be as delicious as the tone of your voice. He lets his imagination of touching you, tasting you take over and lightly places his fingers under your lips, massaging them.

"Father, you are a perfect creature, but you are trapped beneath this mask of a devout religious man. I promise I will return here to unlock your true potential. Until then, remain under the flame of lust. Oh, and keep recording those workout videos; you have no idea how many souls your face and body corrupt. Now, to seal our first encounter together, repeat after me: I, Father Charlie Mayhew, accept your demonic presence to torment me for as long as necessary, committing myself to serve you." You say, gazing deeply into his eyes, as he seems lost in you. It takes him a moment to repeat your words, his eyes lingering on your attire, contemplating the implications of becoming entangled with you.

"Was that all?" He asks after repeating your words, his tone low as if he’s embarrassed. "When will I see you again?" There’s a note of desperation in Father Mayhew's question, as he watches you, trying to memorize every detail. You smile, thinking that he probably wants to remember you so he can indulge in pleasure later.

"You'll see me when the time is right. In the meantime, keep being a naughty boy," you say, caressing his face. Then, with a single finger, you touch his lips, slicing them open. He lets out a soft moan as blood begins to seep from his mouth. "Now it's time for my triumphant exit. Goodbye, Father," you say, leaning in to kiss him, as if to draw his very soul through his lips. The taste of his blood lingers in your mouth, sealing the recent pact between you. You lick his lips and then disappear. Like an illusion, you are no longer there.

[yeagersss]

WHEN THE WORLD CRUMBLES

Sukuna x f!Reader — Zombie Apocalypse AU

Synopsis: As Sukuna reflects on all the people he lost and the lives he took by his own hands, he shouldn't be surprised that this messed-up world decided to take you from him too.

Tags and warnings: excriminal!Sukuna, ANGST, violence, TRAGEDY, Reader and Sukuna die at the end, other characters die too, if this upsets you please turn back

Words: 2k

------

Jin was the first one to go by his own hands.

If Sukuna were told that he would be the one to drive a knife through his little brother's skull, watching him choke on his blood before crumpling to the floor... He wouldn't have believed it.

Perhaps if it were five years ago, he would have. Back when killing was a common thing for him. Splattering a man's brain on the floor for refusing to pay him back was an everyday occurrence.

Eventually, his actions caught up to him and he landed himself in prison.

Jin had been stupid enough to offer him a home even after he had served his years there. Even if Sukuna was sure that Wasuke, if he were still alive, would have disowned him for it.

Though his brother did keep his distance from him.

It wasn't until he met you did Jin warm up to him again.

Sukuna clung to the memory of his brother's warm smile and the way he had slung his lanky arm around his broader shoulders one day.

"What the hell are you smiling for? You of all people should know I don't deserve it."

"But you've changed and learned your lesson. That's all that matters to me, Sukuna."

He clung to it desperately as he watched the corpse of his brother slither across the floor, groaning and wheezing before finally succumbing to its wounds.

He hoped Jin would forgive him for this too.

------

Chaos and confusion.

Nothing but tragedy as he hauled his nephews and you into Jin's car.

People were screaming, bleeding, being eaten alive. Some would approach the car, begging and crying for Sukuna to let them inside. To take them to safety.

The world was crumbling. Yuuji clutched his head and sobbed over his dead father. Choso slumped against the seat, sweating and shaking but still consoling his little brother as much as he could.

If your gentle hand on his arm hadn't been there to ground him, Sukuna was sure he would have driven off a cliff and ended their misery by now.

So he pushed towards a safe zone. At least that's what he hoped it was when he saw some men from the military guiding people onto ships.

But one look at his eldest nephew, they suddenly raised their guns and screamed at them.

"Get the hell away from him! He's about to turn!"

Sukuna had easily overpowered one of them, wrestling the gun out of the man's hands while shouting at his family to get away from the raining bullets.

Back then, Sukuna had been naive. He thought he could save Choso. He thought he wouldn't make the same mistake he did with Jin. He thought that maybe, maybe there was a cure.

But there wasn't.

Choso had always been hostile towards him. Then again, he rightfully deserved the treatment he got from his eldest nephew.

But you always told him to make an effort with him. That Choso will eventually come around when he sees how much his uncle has changed. So he took your advice to heart like he always does and waited for that day to come.

It did, one day on a quiet afternoon as they stood in the balcony when Choso offered him a cigarette.

"...Want one?"

"From you? That's a surprise, kid."

"Yuuji told me that you're... trying your best. And I can see it too... So, just take it before I change my mind."

He remembered glancing back into the house and seeing how proud you looked.

But now there was nothing but pain and agony in your eyes as you watched him drive a bullet through Choso's head right before he could pounce on Yuuji.

------

"Uncle 'Kuna, guess what I am!"

Sukuna glanced lazily at his five-year-old baby nephew from the couch before going back to his phone. The boy had tied a red towel around his shoulders like a cape.

"A clown." He stated in a bored tone that earned him a whine.

"No! Clowns have red noses and scary makeup!" Yuuji exclaimed, making Sukuna groan in frustration and shoot a glare at him. Of all the nights he had to babysit the boy, it had to be tonight.

"What, brat? What are you?"

"A superhero!" Yuuji exclaimed with twinkling eyes.

But his uncle simply snorted, going back to his phone, and checking his email. Hmm, looks like a shipment is late. Someone is dying tonight. "That so? So what are you gonna do? Beat up your big, bad uncle?"

But Yuuji tilted his head. "Huh? Why would I beat you up, Uncle 'Kuna? I'll protect you from the bad guys!"

Sukuna smirked. Oh, if only this kid knew who he was. If only his family knew who he was. Dad had his suspicions but he knew he wouldn't say anything to get on the golden child Jin's bad side. His little brother did blindly defend him.

"Let's say, I was one of the bad guys. What would you do then? Huh, brat?" He asked, mouth stretched to his usual feral grin. Oh, he loved messing with this kid.

Yuuji crossed his arms and frowned. "Then... Then I'll save you from being bad!"

Sukuna rolled his eyes at that.

What a stupid, naive kid.

...

...

Yuuji was the one who volunteered to act as bait and sacrifice himself.

But the kid didn't have a choice. The bite on his forearm proved it. Yuuji had saved Sukuna by tackling the walking corpse to the ground before it could bite him. Only for it to sink its teeth in the kid's arm instead.

Sukuna thought the supply run had been going smoothly. But this world was too unpredictable. One minute, they were filling their bags with all the necessities. You and Yuuji had smiled brightly when both of you discovered a dusty board game on one of the shelves, already making plans to play it tonight.

But then the next minute, the store was surrounded by dozens of those abominations.

You were sobbing, clinging to Yuuji as you begged him not to go. He was like your son. Ever since this hell started six months ago, you did everything you could to be the parent that Yuuji needed. Even if he was stronger than anyone you had met, he was still a sixteen-year-old boy who had gone through too much for someone his age.

But all this world does is take and take. So it was only a matter of time.

As Sukuna guided you towards safety while Yuuji ran towards hell, the older man thought back to that memory once again.

Perhaps that boy wasn't a stupid, naive kid after all.

------

He met you in a bar a week after he was released from prison.

Sukuna knew he had deserved nothing short of a life sentence. But he had his connections. He had a top lawyer at his disposal.

But none of that mattered when that place had been a reality check for him. A realisation that he had fucked up immensely in his life.

He had lost everything he took for granted. Jin may have been foolish enough to offer him a home again, but he could tell his little brother kept his distance. He pitied him. Something Sukuna despised deeply but perhaps, deserved because of how fucking lost he was now.

You were the exact opposite of Sukuna. Chatty and bubbly yet graceful and soft-spoken. Your smile lit up the entire room and your eyes were too radiant.

And for some reason, you had fallen in love with him as deeply as he had with you.

You changed him for the better. Your words of encouragement, your warm embraces and your soft words of love had truly made Sukuna realise that even someone as shitty as him deserved a second chance at life.

Because of you, Jin had smiled at him again.

Because of you, Choso had stopped resenting him.

Because of you, Yuuji had the chance to be a normal teen in this fucked up hellhole.

It was all because of you.

So when he gazed at the bite on your trembling hand, he knew it was the end of the road for him too. The emotions that surged through him ranged from utter despair to nothing but rage as he hacked and sliced the corpse that bit you into tinier and tinier pieces.

He only stopped when he heard your pained whine and turned his attention back to you.

"S—Sukuna..."

He stepped closer but you screamed at him to stay away from you.

"No! S—Sukuna, please...! Do it! Please... Before I...!"

He grabbed the gun. His hands were shaking. Something that never happened when he held a weapon. He wondered if perhaps the universe was finally punishing him for his sins. From standing in front of people begging for their lives as he slayed them with a feral grin on his face to you who was begging him to pull the trigger while his hands trembled in fear.

He couldn't do it. Of all the people he had killed. Of all the lives that were taken because of him, you are the only one he can't kill. Even if it was to save you from becoming like them... He couldn't.

So he lowered the gun, letting it fall to the floor.

"No."

You were about to scream at him to run then only for you to scream when one of them suddenly snuck up behind Sukuna and sank its teeth into his shoulder.

Sukuna didn't budge. He didn't care as it ripped his flesh off. He didn't care when you shot it. But he looked back at you with a tender gaze when you ran to him and gently cradled his face with your hands.

You looked paler than ever, your cheeks were hollow and your hands were cold.

Even as you were turning, you were still so utterly beautiful.

"Y—You could have... You could have easily killed it... Why did you..." You choked out.

Sukuna craned his neck to gently kiss your palm.

"... Because it doesn't matter anymore." He whispered against your skin. His eyes were closed as he basked in your warmth for one last time.

He only opened it when he felt you press the cold barrel of the gun to his head. He gazed at you, searching your tearful eyes. But you simply dropped the gun and buried yourself in his chest.

You couldn't do it as much as he couldn't.

Both your fates were sealed and all Sukuna did was close his eyes and hold you close as he felt the life slipping from him.

------

"In here! I found something."

Two men and a woman walked in as they cautiously looked around. They navigated around the dead corpses on the floor. They cringed at the one that looked like it was cut into a million pieces.

They finally found some supplies.

"Ohh! Canned food! Finally something other than biscuits." The woman said as she eagerly shoved the cans into her bag just like the rest of the group.

Scratch scratch scratch

Groan

They tensed and quickly withdrew their weapons, pointing them towards the sound to see two of them slowly approaching.

What used to be a tall, muscular man with pink hair.

And what used to be a woman.

"Shit." One of the men hissed. "That tall one looks like it's gonna be a problem. Take out the other one first."

The other man nodded as he lifted his gun and aimed at the stumbling shorter corpse.

Only for the taller abomination to get in the way. It snarled and pounced the man, easily ripping off his throat.

The woman screamed and the man cursed loudly as they haphazardly started shooting at the two corpses.

Two lucky shots were all it took. And they were finally able to take them down before scrambling outside. All the while mourning for the friend they had lost.

Time went on.

More survivors came and more went.

Yet all of them failed to notice the look of peace in the dead, rotting eyes of the two corpses.

------

Tags: @moonstonejpg @sukubusss

[shizuturnspages]

I was thinking about male reader who rejected male yanderes because he is straight.

Can you make one for female reader rejecting Arlecchino and other female characters of your choice?

The Breaking Point

Synopsis: You never thought saying “no” would be this dangerous. You were kind about it, even gentle—because you never wanted to humiliate or shame them. You simply didn’t return their feelings. But for these women, whose hearts had twisted into something possessive and obsessive, rejection wasn’t closure. It was war. And the moment you walked away… something inside them shattered. Pairings: [Separate] Yandere Arlecchino, Yae Miko, Beidou, Clorinde, Ningguang x Female Reader

Arlecchino – The Orphan Flame That Burns Alone

You never wanted to be part of her world.

The fires of the House of the Hearth burned too hot, too cruelly—and though you admired her strength, you feared the way her gaze made your bones go cold. When she finally pulled you aside, voice low and hand warm on your wrist, you didn’t panic. You simply told the truth.

You said it cleanly, with no room for doubt.

“Arlecchino. I don’t return your feelings. I admire you—but I don’t love you. I don’t think I could.”

The silence that followed wasn't awkward. It was tense. Brittle. Like something had just been snapped in half and hadn’t realised it yet.

Her lips quirked into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“I see.”

You took a step back when her gaze sharpened. She looked down at her gloves, slowly pulling one off, knuckles flexing.

“Then you’ll have to be reeducated.”

“… What?”

“I protect what’s mine. I offer kindness to those who accept it. But if you reject it—if you throw it away like some child who doesn’t understand the value of what she’s been given—then I have to take control.”

You backed into the wall. Her footsteps were slow, deliberate.

“You will love me. Whether as my equal… or as my possession.”

Yae Miko – The Kitsune Who Doesn't Share

“Oh, dear,” she said with a smile.

But her tail had stilled. Her eyes sharpened like blades behind silk.

“You’re turning me down?” she echoed, voice lilting but frigid beneath its polish. “You mean to say, after all that time in the shrine, all that teasing, all those glances—you didn’t mean it?”

You swallowed. “I didn’t think you were serious. And I… I don’t feel the same way.”

She was silent.

Then: click. Her fan snapped shut.

“You wound me,” she said lightly. “But I suppose it’s not your fault. Mortal hearts are fickle things. Easily misled.”

Her smile didn’t move. But the air grew heavier, thicker with something you couldn’t name.

“I’ll forgive this, of course,” she said, stepping closer. “But understand—there are things in this world more persistent than love. Like obsession. Like fate. Like me.”

One of her fingers trailed your cheek, slow and possessive.

“I’ve watched you flourish beneath Inazuma’s cherry blossoms. I’ve waited, quietly, when I am not a woman made for patience. And now you reject me?” she whispered, brushing your cheek with the back of her clawed fingers.

“You don’t understand what you’re walking away from, little flower.”

You looked her in the eye. “I don’t want to. Let me go.”

The amusement drained from her expression. She tilted her head, curious—like a predator unsure whether to pounce.

“No.”

Beidou – The Pirate with a Broken Compass

“You’re not into me. Hah.” She tossed her head back, laughing.

But it was bitter. Too sharp. Her knuckles tightened around her cup.

“Nah, nah, it’s fine,” she muttered, slamming her drink down and turning away. “You’re just confused. You’ll see it eventually.”

But when you didn’t change your answer—when you said it again, just as gently, just as firmly—her storm broke.

“You don’t get it, do you?” she barked. “I’ve taken down sea serpents for less than what I feel for you. I let you into my crew, my heart—my home. Do you have any idea what that means to me?!”

You tried to walk away.

And she grabbed your wrist.

“You think you can just sail out of my life?” she hissed, voice tight. “I’m not some port you pass through. I’m your goddamn anchor.”

Her voice broke.

“You’re everything I want. And I don’t lose what’s mine.”

Clorinde – The Knight Whose Blade Trembled

You expected her to lash out. Maybe to raise her voice.

But she just stood there.

Still.

Too still.

“… Understood,” Clorinde said, voice tight. “Then I will respect your decision.”

You breathed out in relief. Until you saw her hand twitch near her rapier.

“…Clorinde?”

“I will not force you. That is dishonourable.” Her jaw clenched. “But I also cannot allow others to take what I’ve sworn to protect.”

Her eyes lifted to yours.

“If I remove the threats… if you are isolated, safe, mine… maybe then you’ll see reason.”

You didn’t see her move. You just heard the whisper of her blade leaving its sheath.

“You’ll fall for me once there’s no one left to fall for.”

Ningguang – The Empress Who Refuses to Lose

She didn’t raise her voice.

She didn’t flinch.

She just looked at you. And then, calmly, placed a sealed document on the table.

“I’ll be purchasing your home. Your family’s assets. The business you’re interning with. All of it.”

You stared.

“Ningguang—”

“You rejected me,” she said softly. “But rejection is a temporary state. Power is permanent.”

She stepped closer, manicured fingers brushing your cheek.

“I’ll rebuild the world until you live only in places I’ve touched. Speak only to people I approve. Breathe the air I give you.”

Her eyes were cold and final.

“You can’t escape me. Because I’ve already made you mine.”