#rereading stranded with my class

[dyinggirldied]

There should be a dp x dc ver of Danny's class stranded in the middle of nowhere and they are unaware that they are being recorded live for the entire world, with the superhero communities pressured to find them.

[brattysx]

#O2 — “Before You Touched Me, I Was Already Yours”

Geum Seongjae x Reader | Weak Hero Universe | +18 mdni!

Tags: Post-sex, Jealousy, Smut, Obsession, Emotional Domination, Unofficial Boyfriend, Internal Conflict, Psychological Reaction, Continuous Sexual Tension…

O1 — O2 — O3

The panties were still wet.

You tried to distract yourself with anything: the noise of the pages, the laughter in the background, the muffled voice of the teacher explaining another poem that said nothing. But there, sitting in the usual chair, I felt everything: the slight discomfort between my legs, the memory stuck in the bones, the heavy silence of it.

Geum Seongjae hadn't looked for you since that afternoon.

But it was worse that way.

Because he didn't need to look.

You felt him in everything.

The way no one touched you anymore.

In the space around you, which suddenly became his territory.

You knew he was watching.

Even when he didn't show up, he was.

I knew because the next morning he found the message.

😈 Seongjae:

Drink water.

I don't want you limping dehydrated around.

Ps: your black panties are beautiful, but I prefer it when you don't wear any.

You had read and reread it ten times. The skin burned. The stomach wrapped. You wanted to delete it. I wanted to block.

But he didn't block it.

You didn't even answer.

And he didn't send anything else.

Because I didn't need it.

⸻

On Tuesday, Minjun sat next to him during the break. You thought about smiling - you really tried - but before any word came out, a bottle of juice was thrown hard on the table.

You raised your eyes. And there he was.

Seongjae

Leaning against the chair, as if that place was already his. As if you were already.

- Sit up straight, Nonna. - he said, without looking at you. - You're very shrunken. Are you still in pain?

Minjun frowned, confused.

You are freezing. The words were stuck in the throat.

He extended the bottle for you.

- Here. You need glucose.

You didn't get it. I couldn't. He noticed. His eyes - dark, too calm - finally found you.

- Are you mad at me?

- I came inside, I didn't lie. You said it was mine.

Minjun coughed, uncomfortable. You closed your eyes for a second.

Seongjae smiled.

That fucking smile that has no mood.

Just certainty.

- Do you see, hyung? - he said, turning to Minjun. - Difficult girl like that only gets soft at the right time.

You pushed the chair back and got up. Quick. The heart shot. But he held your wrist before you left.

- If you get up now, I'll go after it. - he whispered low, just for you to hear. - And if I touch you again, you'll cum in three minutes in the women's bathroom. With the door ajar. Do you want this?

You didn't answer. He just sat back.

And the worst?

You trembled.

⸻

At the end of class, his cell phone vibrated with him.

😈 Seongjae:

Go down behind the building.

No one around. I'm waiting.

You didn't answer.

I have your blouse in my pocket. Fell from your backpack yesterday. It's still smelling you. Better come get it, or I'll end up making cum of her.

His face warmed up. The hands were sweating.

You knew that going meant more.

But part of you was already on the way.

Because you couldn't stop.

And he knew.

You shouldn't be there.

Your feet took you even when the rest of your body told you not to go. Every step towards the back of the school seemed like a conscious mistake, a path of no return, a door that opens by itself and swallows you - with the smell of danger, burnt cigarette, and something you hated to admit:

Will.

When he turned the side corridor, the world was silent.

There, behind the science building, where no one used to pass, he was. Leaning against the wall, hands in the pockets, head down. The wind swayed the strands of his hair, the shadow of the filtered sun created drawings on his face. But it was the presence. The weight in the air. He was waiting for you as if he had all the time in the world.

As if it were inevitable.

You stopped a few steps away. He looked up.

- He Came.

A statement, not a question.

- You called me.

- And you came.

His answer was dry, but full of... relief? No. Possession.

He came out of the shadow and walked slowly to you. The ground seemed firmer with him stepping on. As if even the concrete obeyed.

When he stopped in front of you, his breathing was already wrong. He took something out of his pocket - his blouse.

Double. But dirty with his smell now.

- He was with me all night.

- I slept hugging her. - he murmured.

- I woke up hard. Wet.

- It was your fault.

You tried to get the blouse, but he pulled it back.

- Not yet.

He tilted his face, his dark gaze going through you like a blade soaked in poison.

- I want to see your face.

- I want to see if you're still mad that I fucked you like that.

- Or if you're like that because you're thinking about what it would be like if I kissed you. Really.

You took a step back.

He gave two forward.

- Are you going to run?

- Do you think there's a place to run away after what we did?

Seongjae cornered you against the wall with a single movement. The blouse fell to the floor, forgotten.

His hands came to his hips, firm. And the mouth? The mouth was close to yours, but it didn't touch. It just hovered. Like a threat. Like an advice to centimeters.

- I thought about you all day.

- To your taste.

- In your voice when you moan my name.

- And how you squeezed me when I came inside you.

You shivered. The wall behind you was cold. But the heat came from inside. From the womb. From the thighs. From the heart that insisted on beating faster when he spoke.

He got closer.

- Are you wet now?

Silence.

- Okay?

- I don't...

He put his hand between his legs. Over the clothes.

- Okay.

You caught the air. The palm of his hand pressed without moving. Without invading. But it was enough.

- Are you going to say you didn't miss it?

- You don't have that right...

He laughed. A humorless laugh.

- Yes, I have.

- I have it since the moment you moaned with your mouth glued to the closet.

- I have because you let me in. Let me cum inside.

- You're mine now. And you know that.

Then he kissed you.

Strong. Wet. Angry.

The tongue invaded his mouth without asking for permission. The body stue to yours like a hot threat. His hands, before on his hips, went up to his back, pulling hard. Her breasts crushed on his chest. And you... gave in.

His arms rose instinctively. One hand ended up on the back of his neck, the other closed on the T-shirt. The kiss was dirty. Messy. Full of teeth and low sighs. He sucked, bit, drank as if he was hungry.

And maybe there was.

When he walked away, his mouth was red. Swollen. The lips are still wet with the mixture of the two of you.

- Look what you do to me.

He pulled his hand and put it over his pants.

Hard. A lot.

Palpable.

Hot.

- This doesn't pass here.

- Only you solve it.

You swallowed hard.

He turned you around. Quick. He stuck his back against the wall and came from behind. His breath in your ear. The cock pressing your ass, over the clothes.

- Tell me you want to.

- Tell me you're not leaving.

- That will let me fuck you again, now, here.

You closed your eyes.

His hand was already down her belly.

Slowly.

The back leaning against the wall was cold.

But his body glued to yours was the opposite - hot, hungry, throbbing.

His hand went down her belly as if she had all the time in the world. Slow. Curious. Studying. Knowing exactly where I was going to arrive. And the worst? You didn't move away. I didn't ask. It just trembled.

- You should run away, right? - he whispered against his ear, his lips brushing the skin.

- But you're standing still. Wet. And trembling.

- I win whenever you stay quiet.

The hand went under the blouse. He even snailed his bra. The fingers squeezed her breast like someone who discovers an old addiction. The thumb passed the already rigid nipple, and you let out a sound - low, almost a sigh, but he heard.

- It's sensitive.

- It must be because I marked you well yesterday.

He licked your ear. Slowly. With pleasure.

- Do you want me to repeat it?

You bit your lip. The eyes closed. The whole body wanting to move, but not knowing where. He involved you too much. He had his whole body around yours. A hot, raw, intimate prison.

The hand went down from his blouse into his pants.

And he laughed low when he felt it.

- No panties, nonna?

You are freezing.

- Why did it come like that?

- Why did you want to?

- Because you knew I was going to touch you?

He stuck two fingers without warning.

Wet. Ready.

Your body accepted it even before your mind reacted.

- What a shame - he murmured. - You're all open to me.

The fingers moved inside you. Slow, then deep. He found his points as if he owned each nerve. The palm of the hand pressed the clitoris while the fingers fucked slowly. And his head touched his chest. Almost a mute call for help. Or delivery.

He kissed you on the back of your neck.

- You're enjoying it, aren't you?

You didn't answer. But he moaned. And that was enough.

He took his hand, wet, and took it to his mouth.

He licked his own fingers as if they were candy.

- You taste like addiction.

And then he turned you head-on, again. The dark, hungry look.

His pants were already a little open. The erection was evident. Hot. Marking the fabric.

- Do you want to feel it?

He took his hand and put it on top.

- It's been hard since I saw you in the hallway.

- You left me like this. Now you'll solve it.

He pulled you by the back of your neck and kissed you. Strong. Dirty. Full of tongue and anger.

- Are you going to suck, nonna?

- Are you going to kneel like a good girl?

You were shaking.

But it went down.

The legs bending as if they belonged to him.

The hands unbuttoned the pants with trembling fingers.

His smell involved you - sweat, skin, horniness.

When his cock became free, throbbing, heavy, his mouth salivated.

He held her hair.

“ Opens well.”

You obeyed.

He put the tip in his mouth.

Licked.

He heard him moan. Low. But with strength.

“ Like this, that. Deeper.”

“You were born for this.”

“For me.”

The mouth moved. The hands held his head.

You didn't know if you were punishing yourself or surrendering yourself.

But deep down... I liked it.

And he felt it.

“Look at me.”

You raised your eyes, with him in your throat, and saw the way he looked at you.

As if you were everything.

And only his.

⸻

He yanked your hair.

Hard—but not rushed.

Your lips slipped off his cock with a wet sound, and before you could even catch your breath, he lifted you.

Literally.

His arms pulled you off the ground like you weighed nothing.

Like you were built to be held like that.

Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, and his cock was already pressing against your entrance—hard, slick, throbbing.

“Gonna let me in?” he whispered, resting his forehead against yours.

“Or are you gonna run again after getting me addicted?”

You wanted to answer.

But there was no time.

He slid in, all at once.

Pain and pleasure hit at the same time.

A jolt of heat.

A stretch that became fullness.

An ache that turned into something whole.

You threw your head back, moaning loud.

He growled into your neck.

“Fuck… so tight.”

“Like you’ve been waiting for me since yesterday.”

He started moving.

Fast. Rough. But so fucking controlled.

Every thrust slammed your body into the wall.

Every deep stroke buried him deeper inside you—like he was trying to carve your shape into the concrete.

“I should punish you for making me wait.”

“But you moan too pretty… makes me weak.”

He was fucking you with his eyes shut, teeth at your neck, like he was praying you’d never leave. His hands gripped your ass, dragging you back to meet every thrust.

The sound of it all—skin slapping, wet, raw—was obscene.

“You know what I love the most?” he murmured.

“That you try to hate me… but you still cum faster with me than with anyone else.”

That hurt more than his cock.

Because it was true.

You could feel it coming.

Your body tensing.

Breath hitching.

And he knew.

He always knew.

“You’re close, huh?”

“You like it when I talk dirty.”

“You like it when I call you mine.”

He held you tighter.

The rhythm turned brutal.

“Cum for me, nonna.”

“Cum like this, getting fucked against the school wall.”

“Cum while I fill you up.”

And you did.

Loud.

Soaked.

Shaking.

Completely his.

Your whole body seized.

Your head dropped to his shoulder.

You bit into his shirt to keep from screaming.

And that’s when he came too.

One deep thrust.

All the way in.

Hot.

Full.

Inside.

He was groaning against your skin, panting, clinging to you like he was trying to merge with your body. Like he never wanted to pull out again.

“I’m yours, fuck…”

“But you were mine first.”

“And you’ll be mine after.”

He stayed inside.

Both of you sweating, trembling.

You could feel him leaking out of you already.

You felt his weight.

His scent.

His madness.

And worst of all?

You felt how alive it made you.

He kissed your cheek.

Soft.

Almost tender.

“Who are you gonna smile for now?”

Silence.

But he already knew the answer.

omg! the guys really liked it, here's a gift for all of you!🤭🫣

I have part 3 too, only it, whoever wants to be add next taglist, let me know here in the comments!

[landososcar]

packing it up ; LN4

— pairing(s) ; college hockey player!lando x figure skater!reader

— summary ; in which lando's transfer to a new school not only brings him a new team, classes, and friends, but a girl who will change his life forever.

— warnings ; not edited, i'm not american, im also not a figure skater so there's probs plenty of inaccuracies lolll

chapter two — prev … next

⸝⸝ ʚ 𖥔❆ ! ⌗ °•˚❆ ˖⋆*ೃ ༄

that night, i couldn’t stop replaying the dinner conversation in my head. lily’s unwavering support wasn’t surprising—she’d always been in my corner—but lando? his empathy had caught me completely off guard. i didn’t know if it made me feel comforted or embarrassed. 

as i lay in bed staring at the ceiling, lost in thought, my phone buzzed on the nightstand.

i sat up, my heart skipping a beat as i reread the message. my thumbs hovered over the screen, but i had no idea how to respond. why would lando go out of his way to talk to his mum about me? we weren’t close; i barely knew him.

but as i put my phone down, a spark of hope flickered in my chest.

⸝⸝ ʚ 𖥔❆ ! ⌗ °•˚❆ ˖⋆*ೃ ༄

the next morning, i returned to the rink, throwing myself into practice with a determination that bordered on desperation. the icy air bit at my cheeks as i glided across the ice, pushing my body to its limits. the rhythmic sound of my blades slicing through the rink was usually soothing, but today it wasn’t enough to quiet my thoughts and the knot in my chest wouldn’t loosen.

i was mid-spin when a warm, unfamiliar voice called out from the edge of the rink.

“beautiful form.” startled, i faltered slightly but regained my balance before turning toward the source. a woman stood near the boards, dressed in a stylish coat and scarf, her posture poised and confident. there was something familiar about her—the same warm eyes, the same gentle smile, “you must be y/n.”

i skated over, unsure of what to say. “that’s me. and you are...?”

“cisca norris,” she said, extending a hand. “lando’s mum. he told me a bit about your situation, and i thought i’d come take a look.”

my cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “oh, i—he didn’t need to do that.”

she smiled kindly. “he’s a good boy, my lando. and a little stubborn when he wants to help. i’m glad he told me, though. i can see you’re very talented.”

“thank you,” i said, still feeling flustered. “but i don’t even have a partner or a coach anymore. i’m kind of stuck.”

her expression softened. “you’re not stuck. you’re just at a crossroads. if you’re willing to put in the work, i’d be happy to help.”

“you’d... coach me?” my voice cracked slightly, disbelief colouring the words. i didn’t know what to say – i didn’t want to be a burden to her, and i didn’t know how to repay her.

she nodded. “i haven’t coached in years, but i still know what it takes. and i’ve got a really good feeling about you, y/n.”

i blinked rapidly, overwhelmed by the sudden rush of emotion. “thank you, b-but i don’t know how to repay you for this… i don’t know what to say.”

“say you’ll show up tomorrow ready to work,” she said smiling, “we’ll take it one step at a time.” i nodded almost desperately and she must’ve seen the water brimming on my eyes because she went to pull me into a hug, “and as for payment,” she said gently, “just make sure my son is feeling at home, would you?”

i laughed softly, wiping my eyes. “i was gonna do that anyway.”

“i thought you might say that,” she said with a smile, brushing an invisible strand of hair from my face before we parted.

⸝⸝ ʚ 𖥔❆ ! ⌗ °•˚❆ ˖⋆*ೃ ༄

as i got back to my dorm for the night, i was greeted by my best friend’s beautiful smile. lily was sprawled across her bed, headphones on and sketchbook in hand, her pencil moving in quick, confident strokes.

she looked up as i closed the door behind me, her eyes lighting up. “hey! how was the rink?”

i kicked off my shoes, my heart still buzzing from the day’s events. “you’re not going to believe this.”

her eyebrows shot up in intrigue as she sat up straighter. “spill. right now.”

i tossed my bag onto my bed and sank into the desk chair, still trying to process everything myself. “okay, so... lando talked to his mum about me. apparently, she’s a former skating coach.”

lily’s jaw dropped. “no way.”

“and not only that—she came to the rink today. she offered to coach me, lily. can you believe it? out of nowhere, she just... showed up and said she wanted to help.”

for a moment, lily just stared at me, then she let out an excited squeal, throwing her arms in the air. “i knew it! i told you lando was the best! and his mum? she sounds like an actual legend.”

i laughed, her enthusiasm infectious. “she is. i mean, she’s amazing. the way she coaches, the way she just... believes in me. i don’t even know how to thank her—or him, for that matter.”

lily rolled onto her stomach, propping her chin in her hands. “you thank her by killing it at practice tomorrow. and as for lando...” she smirked mischievously. “you could always bake him cookies or something. or, you know, just say thank you like a normal person.”

i rolled my eyes, though i couldn’t help but smile. “i’ll figure it out. but honestly, it feels like things might actually be looking up for the first time in forever.”

lily beamed at me, her expression softening. “of course they are. you’re incredible, y/n. you just needed the right people in your corner. and now you’ve got them.”

warmth spread through me, easing some of the tension that had been weighing me down for weeks. i didn’t say it out loud, but lily’s unwavering belief in me meant just as much as cisca’s. maybe, just maybe, she was right. maybe things really were finally looking up.

⸝⸝ ʚ 𖥔❆ ! ⌗ °•˚❆ ˖⋆*ೃ ༄

the next morning, i arrived at the rink early, my nerves humming with anticipation as i laced up my skates, the sharp cold of the ice already creeping through my layers. today wasn’t just another practice.it was the first step toward figuring out my future—and maybe, just maybe, rebuilding what i thought i’d lost.

as i stood on the ice, stretching and warming up, cisca arrived. she walked in with a graceful confidence that made her instantly commanding yet approachable. a small bag hung from her shoulder, and her warm smile made me feel instantly at ease.

“good morning, y/n,” she greeted, her voice as gentle as it had been the day before.

“good morning,” i replied, my voice trembling slightly with nerves.

she set her bag down on the bench and pulled out a notebook, “i have to admit, i missed this,” she said, almost to herself. “it’s been a while since i’ve coached, but it all comes back so easily.”

i couldn’t help but smile, her enthusiasm was a little contagious. “thank you for doing this. it means more to me than i can say.”

she waved a hand dismissively, though her smile softened. “lando said he’s been told you’re very talented,” she paused with a smile, “i think you’ve got some amazing friends willing to help you however they can… let’s get started.”

the next hour passed in a blur of movement and focus, diving into the intricacies of technique. cisca’s coaching style was unlike anything i’d experienced. she was direct, offering feedback that was honest but never harsh. when i struggled with a step or faltered during a spin, she didn’t scold; she analyzed.

“your jump is good, but let’s work on the timing of your takeoff,” she said at one point, skating out onto the ice to demonstrate. “if you push off too early, you lose momentum. watch me.”

she executed the jump with ease, landing gracefully and turning back to me with an encouraging nod. “now you.”

i tried again, this time paying closer attention to her tips, and when i landed smoothly, she clapped lightly. “there it is! perfect.”

her praise sent a swell of pride through me, something i hadn’t felt in months. maria had always been strict and demanding, rarely offering compliments unless the move was flawless. with cisca, it felt different. her belief in me wasn’t conditional; it was unwavering.

by the end of the session, my muscles ached in a satisfying way, and my spirits were higher than they’d been in weeks. i sat on the bench unlacing my skates when cisca joined me, her expression thoughtful.

“you’re a hard worker,” she said, breaking the comfortable silence. “that’s a quality even the most talented skaters can lack. if you keep that up, you’re going to go far.”

i looked at her, unsure how to put my gratitude into words. “thank you,” i said, my voice soft. “for everything. i don’t know how to repay you.”

her hand rested lightly on mine, her touch warm and reassuring. “you don’t owe me anything, y/n. i’m happy to help. and honestly,” she added with a playful smile, “you’ve already made it worth my while just by showing up and giving it your all.”

i chuckled, feeling my cheeks warm. “still... thank you.”

she leaned back slightly, her gaze turning more serious. “and don’t forget what i said yesterday—make sure lando feels at home here. he’s putting on a brave face, but i know my son. he’s adjusting, too.”

the mention of lando made me pause, her words stirring something in me. “i will,” i promised. “he’s been so kind to me already. he must get it from you.”

cisca smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that reminded me of lando. “he’s got his moments,” she said with a wink.

⸝⸝ ʚ 𖥔❆ ! ⌗ °•˚❆ ˖⋆*ೃ ༄

later that afternoon, i found myself walking back toward the skating arena. lando had practice, and while i hadn’t planned on going, cisca’s words lingered in my mind. i owed him at least a thank-you.

the unmistakable sound of skates cutting across ice greeted me as i stepped inside. the cold air nipped at my cheeks, but the energy of the rink was infectious. players zipped back and forth, their movements sharp and deliberate, the clatter of sticks and pucks echoing through the space.

it didn’t take long to spot him. lando moved with a precision that stood out, his focus intense as he weaved through the defence. even as someone unfamiliar with hockey, i could tell he was good—really good.

when he skated off the ice for a break, he noticed me standing near the boards. his face lit up with surprise as he walked over, his cheeks flushed from exertion. “y/n! didn’t expect to see you here.”

i smiled, feeling slightly awkward because of the other men around us, but pushing through it. “i just wanted to say thank you. for talking to your mum. she’s... amazing. i can’t believe she’s helping me.”

he grinned, leaning casually against the boards. “told you she was the best. so, how’d it go?”

“she’s incredible,” i said earnestly. “i feel like i might actually have a chance now. i don’t know how to repay either of you.”

“you don’t need to,” he said easily. “mum wouldn’t do it if she didn’t believe in you. and honestly, i’m glad i could help. you’ve been through enough.”

his sincerity caught me off guard, and for a moment, i just looked at him, unsure what to say. finally, i smiled. “well, i owe you at least a coffee or something.”

he laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “i’ll hold you to that.” i laughed, watching him skate back onto the ice with the rest of his team before heading out of the bulky double doors and back to lily and i’s shared dorm. 

later that night, as i laid in bed trying to rid my mind of the pretty boy with the brown curls so i could sleep, my phone lit up with a notification. i sighed and debated on checking it, knowing the light from my phone would completely restart my attempt at sleeping. i grabbed it from the bed side table and couldnt help the upturn of my lips when i saw what it said.

landonorris started following you!

⸝⸝ ʚ 𖥔❆ ! ⌗ °•˚❆ ˖⋆*ೃ ༄

a/n ; i’m so sorry this took so long lmaooo chapter 3 is pretty much done so i’ll post it asap (fr this time)

taglist (comment or send an ask to be added<3) ; @leclercdream @britenysbitch @cabbyhabs @jule239 @tvdtw4ever @doofenshmirtzevil-inc @f1and1d4eva @sid-is-gr8

[milliesfishes]

౨ৎ꣑ৎRose Blush (Part Two)౨ৎ꣑ৎ

fem reader x coriolanus snow thank you my darling @phantomamour for proofing!! catch up on part one here

“Not even a chance?”

“I’m afraid not, Mr. Snow.” The receptionist smiled sympathetically. “It’s not something we do often. You understand.”

“Of course.” Coriolanus drummed his fingers on the counter, sorting through his options. He’d come down here to fulfill his end of the bargain the two of you had struck. After all the nights he’d cost you in the last few weeks making public appearances, he figured he owed you. This was the only thing you had asked for. The clothes and shoes and perfumes were a given part of the deal. Any other girl likely would have jumped at that alone and not asked anything in return, but he’d picked you because you weren’t like every other girl.

He escorted you to dinner, to classes, to the ballet. You hadn’t returned to study in the library since the day he’d asked you to embark on this journey of deception with him- he saw to that. It wouldn’t do any good for you to be accessible, so to speak. It was as if he’d tricked his brain too, because it seemed to think you actually belonged to him.

You studied with him at the penthouse now, lying across his bed with your feet propped up at the knee as you highlighted and jotted notes with the pink pen he’d purchased for that purpose. Each time he brought you home you insisted he didn’t have to inconvenience himself this way and each time he told you not to be silly. Besides, he’d be lying to himself if he said he didn’t like seeing you bite your lip in concentration as you reread a paragraph of your textbook. Yesterday he’d lost nearly an hour all together in all the glances he’d snuck in your direction

It was visionary seeing you in a sweater and skirt that fit, your hair neatly styled. You still wouldn’t give up your glasses even though he’d offered to pay for contacts, insisting that was far too much after everything he’d already given you. There was a sort of charm to it though, and it paired nicely with everything else he’d gotten you. Last night when he’d been drifting off to sleep he’d realized he could smell your rose perfume on his sheets.

Leaning on the counter again, Coriolanus addressed the receptionist again. “Is there any way someone, say myself, could pay a portion of the tuition?”

She hummed, sorting through a stack of papers. “I suppose so. Most people just like to take care of it all.”

He blinked, considering. It was a risk to even pay part of it, let alone the whole bill. That hadn’t been the deal. You’d been counting on him being able to sweet talk the offices into a discount. Not foot the whole thing. Coriolanus had brought it up casually once and you’d shut it down. “I don’t want to be in greater debt to you than I already am.” But maybe if you didn’t know…there could be a way around it.

“What are you writing?” he asked one night, coming to sit beside you on the bed. Your eyes had a certain sparkle in them he hadn’t seen before. Usually your face was tight with worry, occasionally a smile, but this was better than that.

You looked up, a strand of hair falling into your face. His fingers itched to brush it away. “Oh…just something little. I write short stories sometimes in between assignments.”

“What kind of short stories?”

“Oh…” you were blushing a bit now. “Just little imaginings. Nothing too serious.”

“I see.” He watched you flip the page you’d been writing on, covering it up. “Have you ever thought about doing anything with them?”

“Oh, no,” you shook your head quickly. “They’re not as good as that. I just amuse myself with them.” You reached for the essay you’d abandoned, laying it atop your notebook. 

He caught a glimpse of a sentence before you hid it. ‘Victory was but a bitter afterthought, something they’d remember later with all the same regret as a morning after drinking too much.’

The line haunted him long after you left, even as he fell asleep with your perfume in his nose.

“I’ll make a payment,” he decided, and the receptionist nodded, pulling out a fresh form.

“Will it be part or full?”

He knew he should do as you’d asked and just shave a little off the full amount. You didn’t have to know how you’d gotten such a good deal

“I might like to write professionally someday,” you mused over a glass of wine. The restaurant was fairly uncrowded, and while he’d picked this place because of how busy it tended to be, he found he didn’t mind being able to actually hear you and not fight a lull of chatter.

“You’d do well,” he said, remembering the line he’d caught with little difficulty. Coriolanus had written it down on a page of his journal, flipping to it every now and then whenever he felt like it. 

“It’s just a dream.” You waved your hand, taking another sip of wine. “Maybe it’ll happen, but I’d have to use a fake name. I don’t know who’d-” you cut yourself off, shaking your head so slightly that it looked like a shiver. “Well. It doesn’t matter.”

It did matter to him. You were talented, that much was clear, but you were also self aware. Capitol society had a long memory, and if they knew anything about your family it was unlikely anything would really come true. He imagined the disappointment in your face at rejection letters and it tugged at his heart.

More and more, he was finding you deserved good things more than anybody else. Your hard work was merely tolerated, not rewarded. He wouldn’t have cared before- he had his own issues. But something here reminded you of himself, how he’d starved and stuffed himself into too-small clothes to get to where he was now. You not only suffered from lack of fortune, but a reputation you hadn’t even earned. It was enough to keep him up at night, and it had ever since he’d thought it.

“Full,” he said, voice firm. “I’ll be paying in full.”

Your leg was bouncing up and down repeatedly, and you were staring at your feet. The dress he’d helped you pick out was spread around you on the seat, overlapping into his. It was white with silver beading that fell in pinstripes down the skirt but swirled into intricate designs around the bust and upper legs. Pearls dangled over your shoulders from the straps and decorated the neckline. He’d insisted on the pearl and diamond necklace that accompanied it even though you said it was too much. 

Folding and then unfolding one leg over the other, your skirt fell to the side and revealed your white shoes that tied around the ankle with silky ribbons. Your hands were curling over each other, fidgeting with the silver ring on your index finger that looked like a bow, a pearl studded in the middle of it. He knew that you would have opted to play with a strand of your hair but it was in an elegant updo, a white silk ribbon threaded through it, the tails dangling down your neck.

Coriolanus reached over, holding his hand out and you didn’t hesitate to take it. He asked before he could regulate into something better. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, the demons dripping from your ears bouncing. “Of course.”

“Did…?” He didn’t want to ask so crudely. “Is everything alright…at home?”

The way you hesitated told him what he needed, but he appreciated how smoothly otherwise you covered it up. “Yes. It’s fine.” You turned to stare out the window. “I’m just nervous.”

“Don’t be,” he said, hitting himself on the inside. If only it were that simple! “You’ll be okay. You just need to stay by me and everything will be fine.”

“Yes,” you said softly, shifting to look at him. His heart skipped a beat at the angelic sight of you in front of him. Even though it was dark, you were shining just as bright as the moon in the countryside. It was as if you’d been beamed down to sit beside him in this moment. In your eyes there had been a wild look of panic but the longer you stayed watching him, it lessened. 

“We won’t stay the whole night,” he promised, squeezing your hand without thinking. “This is about appearances.”

You nodded, taking in a shaky breath. He watched as you leaned back in your seat and kept attempting to stay calm. Whatever had happened at home, he was going to make sure you didn’t have to think about it tonight. Coriolanus searched his mind for something to cheer you. “I talked to the tuition offices.”

Turning your head to look at him again, there was a brightness to you. “Yes?”

“It’s taken care of,” he said, and you smiled wide, squeezing his hand. Coriolanus set his other hand over yours and nodded. “They were very accommodating.”

“Oh-” You leapt forward and flung your arms around his neck, your face pressing to his chest. His arms automatically wound around you, and he relished the feeling of having you pressed against him. The happiness you were feeling was practically tangible, and he couldn’t have described how beautiful you were in that moment. Now just in physical being, in soul. It made him want to tease the joy out of you over and over until it was constant. Maybe it was an impossible thing but he wanted to try. For you he would try.

“Thank you, Coryo,” you whispered into him. His chin settled on your head as he held you, and his body screamed to never let go. “You have no idea how much this means to me.”

“I can help you with more semesters than just this,” he promised, resisting the urge to stroke your hair. “You won’t have to worry about paying for school again.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you murmured. “This is enough. After all you’ve done for me.”

“You’ve done more than you think for me,” Coriolanus said softly, and you pulled back meeting his eyes. There was something brewing within you that he wanted more than anything to hear. He’d listen to whatever you had to say, give you anything you wanted. The car came to a stop before he could hear it, and he looked out the window to find the front steps of the building hosting the gala.

You withdrew even though that was the last thing he wanted, and the driver opened the door on his side. Already, Coriolanus could hear the clicking of cameras and see the flashing. They were like bloodhounds, the lot of them. Like a gentleman was supposed to, he got out first, smoothing the front of his crisp maroon suit and then extending a hand to help you out. Gracefully, as if you’d done it a thousand times, you stepped out of the car, minding the train of your dress and shielding your eyes from the photographers. His heart leapt when your soft hand slipped into the crook of his arm.

He helped you up all the stairs and covered your hand with his when the two of you reached the doors. The instant you walked through the door, heads turned. Even though there was music playing, he could hear all the whispering. Your eyes darted around the grand space, taking in the rich decorations and well-dressed population.

Coriolanus held his head high, guiding you to find a drink. When he put a glass of champagne into your hand you smiled, taking a delicate sip. Pride bloomed inside of him. You were perfect. He couldn’t have chosen better. You took to Capitol society easily, more of a lady than anybody else here.

When he guided you to talk to a few of his colleagues and people he knew from University, you played the part, clinging to his arm and blinking shyly. It was obvious how many people recognized you, but his confidence shut down any direct questions. You didn’t seem to notice, and he was glad for it.

“Another drink, sweetheart?” he asked, watching you blush. You shook your head and he squeezed your hand, surveying the room. The whispers were growing louder, so much that they were nearly suffocating. He gently removed your hand from his arm and pulled you into him. You started to ask what he was doing but he shushed you quietly. “Come here. It’s alright.”

Giving in, you leaned your head against his chest, and he centered his hand on your waist, his other on your shoulder. Coriolanus started to sway back and forth slightly, his eyes sweeping the room. The judgemental looks were lessening just a little, which was the intended effect. You relaxed against his chest and he focused on holding you, reclaiming the time he’d lost in the car. In his opinion he’d spent far too much time not doing so, whenever he could.

“Coryo?” you whispered, and he looked down to see your soft smile. “I think I’m starting to like this?”

Despite himself, a grin quirked his lips. “Endless parties?”

“No,” you breathed. “Being with you. Surviving together.”

“Surviving together,” he repeated, feeling himself soften. The more time he spent with you the more he found how truly poetic you were. You saw the world in a different lens than everyone else. Everything contained good in your eyes, and everything had a story. What he wouldn’t give to live the life that you saw.

You nodded, reaching to cling to the lapel of his suit jacket. He breathed in your rose perfume, the same scent that rocked him to sleep every night. “I like being together.”

“Me too,” he said, the fear he’d held before about saying the wrong thing disappearing. His vulnerability was not a vice with you, it was a gift. You coaxed it back into being. He stood there with you for not nearly long enough until you looked up at him again.

“I’m going to go find the ladies room,” you whispered, pulling back. 

He nodded. “Do you want me to help you find it?”

“I’ll be alright.” You reached up to kiss his cheek before leaving. Even though he knew it was mostly for the cause, he felt it as real. Maybe you meant it that way too.

Coriolanus used to have a steady hold on what to do at parties by himself, but it seemed that a few hours with you had derailed all of it. He chatted aimlessly with a few more partygoers, looking over his shoulder every few minutes to see if you’d returned. Was it just his imagination, or were you taking a long time? He excused himself to do a lap of the room, searching for the stunning woman in the white dress who’d taken his breath away when he saw her. That dress had been nothing without you.

He even asked a few people, but nobody had seen you. None of the masses had spotted you for awhile, even though they knew who you were. There was no way he could miss the look in their eyes that told him they didn’t recognize you the way he would have it. That was a thought for another time. Right now he needed to focus on finding you.

After a full ten minutes of searching he decided to go into the hallway, maybe ask someone to go into the restroom for him. He didn’t need to walk far before he saw you leaning against the wall, arms wrapped around your torso. Your chest was heaving as you drew in sharp breaths. All his instincts kicked into action as he hurried toward you, steadying his hands on your shoulders. “What happened? Are you okay?”

You lifted your eyes to his, full of tears. “You paid my tuition?”

It was like someone socked him in the chest. Coriolanus didn’t deny it, holding firm and focusing on you. “They wouldn’t offer any discount.”

“So you say that you tried. You shouldn’t have just taken care of the whole thing.” You seemed so distraught that he was worried you’d pass out. “You weren’t supposed to give me money.”

“This isn’t the same as paying you,” he tried to explain, but you shook your head sharply, so your earrings smacked your neck. Two tears slipped down your cheeks and his fingers ached to brush them away.

“Do you know what everybody’s been saying about me tonight?” you asked quietly, and he watched you lift a shaking hand to brush a strand of hair from your face. “They’re wondering if I’ve taken up the same profession as my mother. If the only reason I’m here tonight wearing a beautiful dress is because I’m sleeping with you. It’s the only explanation, they said.”

“Who said?” he asked instantly.

“A group of women in the restroom,” you replied, starting to pace. Your arms were folded, hands splayed out over your upper arms. With a sniffle you said your next words in a broken tone. “And the worst part is that they’re right.”

“No,” he started but you cut him off.

“The only difference is that we’re not sleeping together,” you burst out, voice full of tears. The only thing he could do was stand there and watch you. He was worried if he reached for you that you’d push him away. “I’ve been seen with you all over the Capitol. You’ve bought me clothes and jewelry and shoes. It fits, doesn’t it?” 

He couldn’t contradict you. As always, you were right. Still, he tried to smooth it over. “It isn’t like that-”

“The only thing they couldn’t figure out is why you chose me,” you said, shaking your head again. “Why would you choose me when everybody hates my family? And I don’t have an answer for that.” Your shoulders slumped and you stared at him with so much hurt in your eyes that he was afraid you’d break. “I haven’t been able to figure it out.”

“Why wouldn’t I choose you?” You took a step back, lips parted, eyes wide. His head would have screamed at him to take it back but he wasn’t listening to it. Another shaky breath was drawn from your lips and then you squeezed your eyes shut, and the tiniest cry he’d ever heard echoed in the hallway. 

Instantly he stepped forward, holding out his arms for you to fall into. You were crying into his shirt now, murmuring things he couldn’t understand. “I know, I know,” he whispered, starting to guide you down the hallway. “We’re going to go home now.”

“I don’t w-want-”

“My home,” he clarified and you fell silent. 

The whole car ride home you stayed that way, tucked into his side crying with no noise. He managed to get you out of the car and into the elevator, taking you all the way to his room. Tigris and the Grandma’am would be asleep at this hour, so he kept his voice at a whisper. Once the door was shut he sat you down on his bed and helped you take off your dress.

Kneeling, he unwrapped the shoes from around your ankles and set them to the side. Coriolanus removed your jewelry and set it on his desk. He retrieved one of the pajama sets you’d left here after that first shopping trip. You lifted your arms when he asked and complied when he started to lay you down. Your crying had stopped and now you were just sniffling every few minutes. He pulled the covers over your shoulders, thumbing your arm. “Just sleep. I’ll stay nearby.”

“Don’t leave,” you mumbled sleepily, and he couldn’t resist moving a strand of hair from your face. 

“I’ll stay close,” he promised. “It’s okay.” At that you finally closed your eyes and relaxed into his bed. He knew from experience that it was a far cry more comfortable than what you were used to. Coriolanus wouldn’t be surprised if all you had was a blanket and pillow and your mattress was just the floor. 

Pulling up a chair by your bed, he tossed his suit jacket over the back and removed his tie. He undid the top three buttons of his shirt and slumped as he sat down, shutting his eyes and listening to you breathe. You were safe here. 

Nobody’s words could hurt you right now.

When he set the breakfast tray in front of you, your eyes were a little less red than the night before, and you reached for a strawberry, he was relieved to see you smile even just a little bit. He poured you tea and held it out, which you took and sipped at. 

Coriolanus sat beside you, holding a cup of his own. He wasn’t exactly sure what to say about last night. Did you remember any of it? You hadn’t had too much to drink from what he’d seen. 

“Thank you,” you said softly, eyes on your tea. “I…I’m sorry about last night. I was so…”

“Don’t worry about it.” He wouldn’t let you think he was upset over it for even a second. Straightening, he tried to subtly smooth out the pain in his neck. His head had lulled to a strange angle during the night. “I just want you to be safe.”

“Coriolanus,” you started, lifting your gaze to him. “I said some things last night that I shouldn’t have. I didn’t mean to come across as ungrateful, but I truly don’t understand still.”

“I know.” Coriolanus put his tea on the nightstand. “Things didn’t go the way I’d intended, and I apologize for putting you in such a position.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” you murmured, tracing a shape into the covers. The strap of your sleep set was dangerously close to falling off your shoulder, and you had a glow to you as the sun breathed through the curtains onto your skin. A good night’s sleep in a nice bed was doing wonders for you. He imagined how things might be if you were able to do so every night.

He straightened, what he wanted to say pouring out of him easy. “I didn’t choose you because I felt sorry for you. That wasn’t the whole reason. After the first day I took you shopping I considered calling off the deal and just letting you keep everything I’d gotten you.”

You blinked at him, not seeming surprised. “Why didn’t you?” He watched you deflate. “I would have understood.”

“I didn’t want to,” he said simply and you shook your head.

“That doesn’t make any sense.” Throwing back the covers, you stood up and ran a hand over your hair. “You know who my family is. You know why nobody in school will even look at me.”

“You’re different,” he said, shaking his head and standing with you. “I know you’re not what they say you are. You’re smart and brave and-”

“I need to go.” You started to gather your things, but he caught your wrist. 

“Don’t,” he pleaded, catching your eyes. “Please.”

“Our deal is over,” you whispered, something breaking in your eyes. “I’ve been helping you for nearly a month and you’ve taken care of my tuition.”

“I don’t want it to be over.”

“Why?”

“I…I…” Coriolanus was grasping for something to cling to. He said your name and it came out more desperately than he meant it. “I want you to be close to me. I want to take you shopping and watch you try on a million dresses and buy out the whole store if that’s what you want. I want to do homework together and graduate holding your hand. I want to be the one with you when you publish your first book and I want to be the first one to read it.”

You looked so shocked, frozen in front of him. He straightened, deciding to go in for it. “And I want to protect you from anybody who dares say a word against you, including your family.”

There was a beat where he was worried he’d said the wrong thing. He shut his mouth and watched your eyes flicker with unspoken emotions. Whenever he thought he’d figured it out a new one appeared. You swallowed, lips parting gently. Then in an instant, you surged forward, arms winding around his neck as your lips found his.

He didn’t think, just leaned into it, clasping his elbows to hook at your waist and bring you closer. You were warm and soft and safe and right where you belonged. With him, in his world. He’d color it every color you saw. Your lips moved against his, and when he went in for more you responded eagerly. Never had Coriolanus had a kiss like this. It was so different, but that shouldn’t have been surprising. Everything about you was a startling thing that tipped his carefully crafted world into the unknown. For the first time in his life he didn’t care that he wasn’t in control. You were the one guiding his compass.

“I love you,” he whispered when he pulled back, thumbing your cheek. “I know I love you.”

“I love you,” you repeated, eyes sparkling. “Coryo, everything you said…I want it too.”

He cupped your cheeks, bringing his lips to your forehead. “You’ll have everything you want. I’m making sure of it.”

“Right now I just want you.” You leaned into his arms and settled there, and he realized he finally had his wish. He could hold you now and never let go.

[mapsthewanderer]

Hello!! I am literally eating up the Bear AU!! The tension and drama with all the little moments and interactions in the kitchen is so beautifully done! You are amazing at writing! Also as a Caleb girlie and because I think you portray him really well, I wonder what you think Caleb (from the game not in an AU) would he do if MC is harassed by girls (because usually people write guys and he can just step in, but I wonder if he goes about a more subtle manipulation?) OR what’s the interaction when there’s two Caleb’s (for example, X02 and the colonel) A Drabble or just your thoughts, I’m curious! The Caleb brain rot is so strong 😅

Hiii!

Aaa you have no idea how grateful I am for your support! I hope you keep enjoying this little AU of mine. If you ever have thoughts, questions, or suggestions, please feel free to drop them in! And if you’re just here for the ride, I’ll be in awe for simply consuming my creativity while it goes absolutely bonkers. Thank you, dear reader—and thank you for vibing with my take on Caleb.

(Naturally, he’s not affected by any chip in the AU, which tones down the obsession a little… but that just brings us back to in-game Caleb: our favorite obsessive menace. Smug yet kind. Kind but cruel. Etc. etc. A walking contradiction in a very hot body lol.)

Sooo… About your request… lemme see what I can whip up from this chaotic little noggin. And when you say harassed—we’re talking actual harassment, right? Not just top-tier bullying? Just checking! Let me know if you’d prefer a slightly less felony-adjacent vibe, heeh!

You better believe I came back from a hike with my dog and immediately spent hours typing out these two scenes like a woman possessed. I’m kinda pleased with the outcome. Like, did I black out? Maybe… we’re not questioning it.

(I went with post- and pre-chip Caleb for now because I’m still not totally comfortable headcanoning his myth. But! I might circle back after my fifth reread of it, lol. Would you be a dear and remind me if you still have an itch later on?)

So here you go—750ish words of pure Caleb brainrot. Featuring: you (/MC) getting harassed by women and Caleb handling it. Enjoy. We’re in this rot together, lol.

Maps 🫶🏻

🧡 Caleb

Pre-chip frat boiii

It starts the day he walks in on them laughing a little too hard at your discomfort. The way one girl grabs your hand and won’t let go. The way they say your name—like it’s theirs to use.

Flight jacket slung over one shoulder, hair still messy from drills, eyes locking onto you instantly. And then—them. He doesn’t call them out.

He smiles.

“Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask—are you all friends?”

They nod. Eager. Too eager.

“Great. You should come by for dinner. I cook.”

He flashes that perfect Caleb grin.

“Our place. Tonight.”

You don’t find out until you walk in and smell something incredible on the stove—your favorite. He’s already set the table, laid out drinks, even lit a candle like this is some warm domestic moment and not a low-burn ambush.

They arrive giggling, dressed up, thinking they’ve been invited in. And Caleb?

He’s the perfect host. He serves them personally. Smiles. Asks about classes. Keeps his hand casually resting on your thigh under the table—protective, firm, constant.

Then halfway through dinner, he leans forward.

Still smiling.

“You know…” His voice is low, almost casual. “It’s really nice to see her smile. She doesn’t do it around people who make her uncomfortable.”

One girl stiffens. Another shifts in her seat.

Caleb takes a sip of water. Doesn’t break eye contact.

“I don’t like people who corner her in the lounge. Or touch her arm when she clearly steps away. Or spread stories just to see if they can get a rise out of her.”

He sets the glass down. The smile never fades.

“But I figured it’d be kinder to make that clear over dinner. In her home. Our home.”

A pause.

“So next time you think about getting bold, remember whose name is on the mailbox.”

Silence.

And then—he turns to you. Gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Want dessert, Pip-squeak?”

Post-chip delulu booiiii

You didn’t expect them to be so bold.

Female hunters on your squad—older, confident, entitled. Their flirtation started subtle. Became invasive. Comments, touches, threats wrapped in jokes. And you?

You handled it. Until they followed you into the locker room.

The next morning, you’re pulled aside by your squad leader.

The women?

Officially? Both were transferred—different posts, different sectors.

Unofficially? No one’s seen them since.

You only hear about it in whispers—the kind of whispers that go silent when you walk into the room.

You call him during your break—barely restraining your frustration, thumb jabbing your phone harder than necessary.

It rings once.

Caleb’s face appears on the screen instantly, lit by the glow of his office. There’s static in the background, low comms chatter, but none of it touches his expression.

He smiles. Wide. Warm… Pleased.

“Heey, Pip-squeak.” His voice is like sunlight through glass. “Didn’t expect a call. You miss me already?”

You don’t even have a chance to answer. Because he keeps going, smooth and soft.

“You look beautiful. Something wrong?”

And just like that, you remember—this isn’t the boy who used to walk you home after class. This is the man who already handled it. The man who smiles when you’re upset… because he knows it’s taken care of.

You lift one hand to your temple, rubbing slow circles as you stare at his face on the screen—framed in clean lighting, collar sharp, smile easy. Too easy.

“Caleb,” you say slowly, watching his expression. “Two of the women on my squad got reassigned this morning.”

You pause. Let it hang.

“The same two who’ve been… bothering me.”

His smile doesn’t change.

If anything, it softens—like he’s relieved you noticed.

He doesn’t blink.

“Did they touch you?”

You freeze. You didn’t expect that. Didn’t expect the change in his tone—still calm, but stripped of pretense.

You hesitate.

And he sees it.

That’s enough.

His jaw shifts just slightly. The smile lingers, but now it’s… sharp-edged.

“You shouldn’t have to deal with things like that.” His voice is gentle. Dangerous.

“Not while I’m breathing.”

He leans forward slightly, fingers ghosting over the screen like he wants to reach through it.

“I handled it.” A beat. “You don’t have to think about them again.”

You ask him how he did it. What he did.

And Caleb smiles—slow.

“Let’s just say I made sure they won’t forget who you belong to.”

No filter.

Just you.

And the absolutely lethal devotion of a man who refuses to lose you.

Then, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, his voice softens again.

“Anyway. You want me to make dinner when I’m off?”

A pause. Thoughtful.

“I’ve still got that braised chicken I vacuum-sealed. Could warm it up for you.”

Like he didn’t just erase someone for touching you.

Like you’re the only thing he’s hungry for.

——————————————————————————

Writer’s note: This song is so Caleb-coded it physically hurts. I have a tiny headcanon marinating where he sings this to you—yes, sings. And the request I just got from you? It completely reactivated the memory. Someone please stop me from posting it because now the delusion is back and thriving. Believe you me, I nearly fell out of my chair when I realized it’s actually canon that he plays the ukulele. Like? Why would they do that to me specifically??? Ok sorry for rambling I’ll shut up now. Please give it a listen and tell me I’m wrong

[ladykf-writes]

Finally have the energy to start working on / posting fics again, however long it may last. Here's some updates for my solo fics:

CURRENT BUFFER STATUS OF THINGS I'M POSTING:

Best in Class: 12 unposted CHs, 1 posting tomorrow

The King & His Concubines: 11.5 unposted CHs, today's posted here

Waltzing Through Time: 9.5 unposted CHs, posted here Saturday

And here, current progressing buffer of things I am not currently posting but will probably be the next ones on docket that are already in progress:

Dewprism: Journey to the [Relic]: 16 unposted CHs (behind the backburner, there was no real interest)

Dog Whistle: 10.5 unposted CHs (being at the climax / ending require having it all done before posting, sorry)

Party of Five: 3 CHs but they need rewritten

ALSO likely to join the above:

Forged in Fire: 26 unposted CHs, some of it needs rewritten, all of it needs reread before resuming writing

It's Not a Game: 3 unposted CHs (I need to rewatch at least the Avengers. Ideally also Iron Man 1 & 2 and possibly Ragnarok, so that's why this keeps falling low on the list. Also this will ALSO be a big fixit and thus demanding why am I like this)

I'm also 👀 at some WIPs I'm poking on occasion. I'll cut it here and underneath you can see a snippet of two of their beginnings. In the meantime, feel free to ask questions or request out-of-context snippets!

The Goddess' Roulette (series) first fic: The Gift of the Goddess

Suddenly he was desperate for a mirror, to see his face, his hair, anything else that would confirm his sudden suspicions. Because he was so afraid to accept this as truth. That he had been healed, somehow, even though the last thing he remembered was the Mother Goddess Minerva turning him away. He’d thought she had been rejecting his appeal for healing. That she had left him to die, unsalvageable from the deeply entrenched presence of the Planet’s true enemy, Jenova. But if he was healed, it had to be divine intervention. If it was divine intervention, she had not rejected him. If she had not rejected him… then what had that gesture meant? She had turned her face from him and expelled him from the Lifestream, that he was sure of. What did it mean? Genesis got up, jelly legged, and raked a hand back through his hair. And kept going, finding to his somewhat hysterical amusement his hair was well past his shoulders. Twisting to look revealed it was past his waist and down towards his knees, though it didn’t quite reach it. And not a single strand of white to be found. Genesis swallowed hard, a hand fisting in his hair — it felt strong, like he could pull and not lose a single strand. How often had he run a hand through his hair not so long ago and strands of hair come with him? He blinked rapidly, eyes stinging. It was a miracle.

The Seventh God

Love is a powerful thing. A lack of love — familial, platonic, romantic, any sort of all — could do terrible things to a man left in painful isolation not for a year, not for five, not for ten, not twenty but twenty five hundred years, nearly three millennia. Left to murderous pain and soul tearing despair. Tears streaked down his face until he had no more strength in him to cry, burning black ichor dripping to the floor. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. (In another time, this was exactly how things were planned to play out; a man starved of his humanity was a much more pliant tool. But that is not how this story goes.) He hung from meat hooks, exhausted, dehydrated, listening to the wails and cursing and feral sounds of the daemons that tried to possess him. Sometimes he wondered if it wouldn’t be worth it to just… let go. Let them have him, little that there was to have. In the lowest point he could have hit, he felt it. The faintest coolness on his fevered brow, making him groan softly. ‘Thank you.’ Red brows furrowed in confusion, too tired to even begin to understand what he could possibly be being thanked for, nor who would.

[seattlesolace]

there for you // jay (ENHYPEN)

pairing: human!jay x guardian angel!fem!reader

summary: Jay is the boy you were tasked to guard, and guide, for life. you follow him through all stages of his youth, but what happens when he reaches a certain age and you start to develop... feelings?

genre: fluff, fantasy // warning: profanity, mentions of bullying

word count: ~5.3k

author's note: welcome to seattlesolace, and welcome to another fantasy-related content.

works regarding guardian angels have always been my favorite type of thing to read, so this is my spin on it. no, y/n doesn't have wings, and the type of guarding she does is more on the emotional side, but I do hope you like this one since it does bring me a little comfort when I reread it.

the song inspiration for this fic is below:

it was the song that Jungkook used in his GCF video and for some reason it kept playing in my head, and when I read the lyrics it was definitely giving me guardian angels vibes... so that's how this fic was made! for now, enjoy 🤍

When he was 8

When you’re screaming, but they only hear you whisper I’ll be there for you

“Park Jongseong!”

Jay blinked as he struggled to wake up at the sound of his nagging mother. It was 7 AM. He looked around his room before blinking several more times and then closing his eyes shut again.

The door flung open and his mother barged in. Holding a spatula on one hand, she patted Jay with the other hand and tried her best to lower her voice.

“Jay, you’re gonna be late. Come on, you have to get ready for school.”

“I don’t wanna go,” said Jay in a sulky voice.

His mother frowned. “Why?”

Jay remained silent. He’d rather keep his mouth shut than telling his mother and getting embarrassed all over again.

“Look, whatever is going on, you have to get it together or else your father is going to throw another lecture about the importance of education. Now I have to go finish breakfast. You better be ready by the time the food is served, okay?”

Jay’s mother ruffled her son’s hair as she left the room, leaving the door open on purpose. As Jay tossed and turned throwing a silent fit, he noticed the figure standing by the door.

“Noona?”

You smiled widely and entered the room, sitting on the edge of Jay’s bed. Jay automatically sat up and straightened himself.

“You need to listen to your mother,” you said, calmly.

Jay pouted. “But you know what happened the other day at school.”

You nodded. “I do. And I loved what you did.”

“Telling off a bully made me become the target of bullying. I didn’t see it coming,” Jay was now fully awake, fighting off yawns.

“It will get better,” you straightened the wrinkles on your white dress.

“How?”

“If you refuse to go to school, that just shows how much you are afraid of them. Don’t ever let them know about your fear. Don’t even feel afraid.”

For a boy his age, he knows that all the things you just said made sense. It was cliché, even. But it still didn’t convince him to go to school.

“I don’t care what people think about me,” he said, finally, after seconds of silence.

You raised an eyebrow. “You are a paradox. You stood up for the poor girl in class, and then you get bullied, and you don’t wanna go to school, and now you think you don’t care what people think about you, but at the same time you are still refusing and---“

“Okay! Okay, Noona! I will go to school if you stop talking,” Jay got out of his bed and snatched the towel hanging on his chair.

You laughed. “See you later?”

“See you later!”

When he was 17

I can’t do this alone Sometimes I just need a light

Jay kicked the little stones and made traces of lines in the sand. He took the lollipop he was eating and used the stick to write down something. He heard footsteps coming from behind him. When he turned around, you were already standing there, in your white dress, strands of hair falling off from your messy bun.

“Took you long enough,” murmured Jay.

You placed a hand over your chest, acting offended. “Some attitude?”

“I called for you 15 minutes ago, you usually respond within a minute,” Jay clearly looked disappointed. You sighed.

“I’m sorry. I had some stuff to take care of…”

“Another 17-year-old with romance problems?” asked Jay.

You tilted your head and chuckled. “No, some paper problems regarding the new recruitment for guardian angels. So, what is up with you?”

“There is this girl I like…”

“Okay, not the first,” you sat down on the bench as you listened to Jay who was still on his feet, playing with the sand.

“But I don’t know if I should tell her.”

You observed the teenage boy in front of you. His cap covered half his face, his loose tee and his wide-fit shorts made him look more mature than his age.

Noticing no response from you, Jay coughed. “Aren’t you cold?”

You realized Jay was referring to the fact that you wear the same white dress all the time and only change outfits whenever you were showing yourself to the real world.

“Angels don’t get cold, don’t worry.” You smiled. “Okay, so you like her. How much?”

Hearing this question, Jay’s lips form into a wide smile. It made you smile, too.

“A lot.”

“What do you like about her?”

“Almost… everything? Why are you asking me this, you know exactly who she is. You pop up at school like every day,” Jay got tired and sat down beside you.

“I know exactly what she’s like,” you leaned on the bench and stared at the stars. “But I want to know what she looks like, painted with the words from your mouth.”

Jay laughed shyly. “I didn’t know you were poetic.”

“I’m not, but you are,” you looked at Jay and elbowed him. “Go on. Answer.”

“Noona.”

“What?”

“Do I really have to? It’s embarrassing,” Jay covered his face with his two hands.

You gasped in surprise. “Embarrassing?? Nothing is embarrassing about love. What’s embarrassing is watching you grow up from the chubby 3-year-old who runs around the backyard, naked, become a sophisticated, academic-award-winning 17-year-old who doesn’t even know how to talk to girls.”

“Speaking of ages…” Jay turned around to face you. He had one leg up the bench so he could really face you.

“Don’t change the subject,” you rolled your eyes.

“I’ve never really asked but I want to know. How old are you?” Jay stared at you, full of curiosity.

“I’m just a little over a thousand years old—“

“Not your angel age, like your human age, this figure, right now?” Jay poked you slightly to confirm his question. You felt a buzz.

“Well, um,” you did not even think for once that you would become flustered. “I’m probably in my mid-20s? Like 25? 26?”

Jay observed you in detail. It made you a tad bit giddy.

“Stop staring,” you said, shoving Jay’s face away.

Jay complained. “Not fair! You watch me sleep all the time.”

“No, I don’t. And if you say it like that, it sounds creepy.”

“But you do. Nothing in my room is white. So, if I see something white it’s definitely you.”

“What if it’s a ghost?”

Jay scoffed, sounding slightly scared. “Don’t say that.”

“Yet you are talking to me now,” you stared back at Jay, challenging him. Jay sighed and held up his hands.

“Fine. But you’re not a ghost. I believe in you because you’ve always been there for me. Now please give me advice, I am lost,” Jay leaned back to the bench after emphasizing the last word and accidentally knocked his cap off.

You caught his cap and put it on your head. Jay laughed at the sight of this.

“First of all, you need to determine whether or not you really need to confess. What’s the aim of your confession? Just to let her know? To date her? To find out if she feels the same? If the aim is to just let yourself be free of the burden that is your feelings, that is quite a selfish move. I suggest you don’t confess.”

Jay blinked and turned to you. “Wow. That was first of all?”

“Second of all,” you said as you chuckled and shoved Jay’s face away. “You need to weigh the situation. Once you’ve decided to confess, you really need to make sure of the place and time of your confession. Would you want to do it at the university? In a café? In class? Whatever. Make sure you do what she likes—“

“We’re not into that stage yet—“

“I mean NOT SEXUALLY!” you raised your voice. Jay burst out laughing and almost choked on his lollipop.

“Go choke some more,” you stood up, feeling a bit fed up.

Jay held your hand to stop you from walking away, even though he knew you could just poof and evaporate to oblivion because you had done that several times. But this time, you stayed.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “you may proceed.” Jay scooted to let you sit beside him again.

“The last,” you sat back down and smoothed out your dress. “Is to prepare for the worst. Looking at you like this,” you made a gesture at Jay, judgingly. “She might not accept your confession.”

“Hey!” Jay was clearly offended, but he smiled as he complained. “Am I really that bad?”

“You know why I came late?”

“Why?”

“Because I asked for a substitute to be your guardian while I find a different person who causes less trouble—“

Jay nudged you as you broke into laughter. “Bullshit. You love me.”

“Ha!” you scoffed. I really do. “Do you want me to continue?”

“Yes, please.”

“If she does not accept your confession, then it’s okay. You want to cry? Fine. You want to binge-eat? Fine. But like I said back then when you were dealing with bullies, don’t let it show. Don’t let your disappointment show, don’t let your sadness show. Don’t even be angry because she has the right to turn you down if she doesn’t like you back.”

“Wow,” Jay looked at you in awe.

“I know right,” you tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. “I’m stunning at night.”

“You sound so wise, I almost believed you when you said you were in your mid-20s,” Jay shook his head and took his cap back.

“Well, how old do you think I should be given this amount of wisdom?”

“At least 50—ouch!”

You pinched Jay’s arm really hard to the point that his first cry of shock gradually turned into genuine screams of pain. You almost died of silent laughter.

“Are you sure you’re gonna be okay if you get rejected?” you asked, looking concerned.

Jay took a deep breath. “Of course I’ll be okay. I’ve got you.”

You sat in brief silence for a moment.

“I mean, you can use your superpowers to find other girls for me, right?” Jay flashed a sweet smile to you, his signature lopsided smirk.

“In your dreams, you boob,” you snickered, flicking Jay’s cap off his head.

When he just turned 23

But I’m holding on to something Won’t let go of you for nothing I’m running just to keep my hands on you

Your eyes widened at the sight of food being served in front of you. Sitting across from you is Jay, clearly not feeling the same excitement.

“Oh, please, cheer up!” you said as you handed him a pair of chopsticks. “You’re not in the mood for seafood?”

Jay shook his head and fixed his beanie.

“Well, tough, because I feel like eating some seafood and I’m paying,” you started stirring the seafood stew that was boiling, but then your smile faded when you didn’t get a reaction from Jay.

“I’m sorry,” you said, putting the ladle down. “Do you want to order something else?”

“No, no, it’s okay,” Jay answered without missing a beat. “It’s just that…”

He fell silent and blankly stared at the food before shifting his eyes to you.

“You’re thinking about her?” you asked, knowingly. Jay nodded.

You put both your elbows on the table and leaned forward. “Tell me everything.”

“You know already.”

“No, I don’t. I stopped following you on your dates since I got caught once and you told me off,” you said in defense. “And I’m still sorry for that, by the way.”

Jay shot a weak smile. “We’re in a fight. Or at least, I think we are. She doesn’t even take it seriously.”

You have been observing Jay’s first serious relationship for over 2 years. It was the same girl Jay confessed to when he was 17, except back then, he got rejected.

“What happened?” you asked. “Also, do you mind if I listen while eating?”

Jay shook his head and told you to help yourself. As you listened to his story, you carefully took out pieces of seafood onto your plate as well.

“She has a lot of friends. Male friends. And when I say a lot, I mean it,” said Jay who was now playing with his chopsticks.

“And it bothers you?”

“What kind of boyfriend wouldn’t be bothered?” Jay almost snapped the chopsticks. You had to carefully hold his hand down.

“Lower your voice, Jay,” you hushed. Jay mouthed ‘sorry’.

“She has no boundaries, Noona. She hangs out with them almost all the time. She even shares affectionate terms and nicknames with one of them that I dislike the most.”

You stopped stirring your food and shifted your eyes to his face.

“Whenever I call her or talk to her it feels rather rushed, like a squeezed-in business meeting.”

You paused eating for a while as you gathered your thoughts. She sounds like an awful person.

“Jay, I’m gonna ask you something.”

Jay blinked at the change of tone in your voice. “What?”

“From the beginning of your relationship, did you ever think you would last this long?”

Jay took a deep breath and rested his elbows on the table, propping his head up with both his hands.

“Honestly, I don’t know,” he answered after taking a couple of seconds to think.

“Alright, let me ask another thing. Have you ever thought, during your relationship, that you give more than you take—“

“Yes.”

You were slightly shocked at the answer.

“That didn’t take me long to answer, huh?” Jay noticed the surprise on your face.

“That’s… a problem, Jay,” you looked into his eyes with a sad gaze. She doesn’t deserve you.

Before you were able to resume your thoughts, an old lady came by your table and served a second dish.

“We didn’t order this—“ said Jay.

“Oh, we did! Thank you, auntie!”

Jay smiled at the old lady before looking at you in confusion. “We didn’t?”

“I know you’re not the biggest fan of seafood, so here’s your meat. Now, tell me everything so I can give you the proper advice.”

You were looking down at your bowl, devouring the seafood stew that was now completely yours. As he picked up his chopsticks, he smiled and mumbled a ‘thank you’ before joining to eat.

---

“You broke two rules.”

You fixed the glasses sitting on your nose as you leaned forward. “Excuse me?”

“Y/N, I’ve told you many times before. Before you were even assigned to this boy.”

“Man,” you corrected.

“Fine, ‘man’,” said the guy in front of you as he fixed his nametag which read Jung Hoseok.

You sighed. “Okay, what did I do wrong?”

Hoseok was sifting through the papers when he glanced up at you and blinked. “You really want me to tell you?”

You shrugged.

Hoseok cleared his throat. “Okay, you violated his personal life by interfering with his romantic relationships—“

“I didn’t do anything wrong—“

“And! You developed feelings for him.”

Hearing the second point, you fell silent. Hoseok looked at you and took out a pen from his jacket.

“It’s not like we don’t know, Y/N,” said Hoseok in a lower voice. “I actually expected more from you.”

You looked back at Hoseok. As a guardian angel who had been doing your job for just ten years more than the man in front of you, you felt slightly ashamed. Hoseok had achieved so much in so little time that this scene where you were being scolded by someone of a higher position despite less experience did not feel bad.

Hoseok looked around at the empty café that he cleared out for this special meeting. At the door, Hoseok’s assistant was standing straight, guarding the entrance.

“Alright,” you finally spoke up. “What’s my penalty? A year off? Desk job at the headquarters for like, three months?”

Hoseok frowned. “Y/N, the rule you violated deserves a penalty that is much… worse than just a desk job.”

“What? I’m fired forever?” You were genuinely clueless since you had never broken a rule before, thus never acknowledging or studying the guide on guarding that had been constantly renewed every now and then.

“You’re becoming human,” said Hoseok, firmly.

You fell silent, but not for long. “Okay. Okay, I’m gonna be mortal. No big deal—“

“And memories of him will be erased, the same works for him,” Hoseok continued.

You scoffed. “You mean, he won’t remember me?”

Hoseok nodded. “Neither will you.”

“Hoseok, please—“

“I’m sorry, Y/N…”

You stared at the paper and the pen that Hoseok had readied. You remained still like that for a couple of seconds before you felt your eyes tearing up, and you decided to wipe your tears before they fell and embarrass you further.

“So, we get punished for loving people now?” you asked. “So much for being angels.”

Hoseok pushed the paper forward for you to sign as you reached for the pen. “That’s exactly my point, Y/N. We’re angels.”

You signed the paper which signified the end of your contract.

“We don’t feel,” said Hoseok as he pushed another folder to you, containing important documents.

“This is your identity, you will find everything you need to know about the human world and becoming human. Your age stays the same as now, but once you walk out that door,” Hoseok pointed to the guard at the entrance. “You will become human, and you’re gonna start aging.”

You peeked into the files that were now in your hands. “Does this mean I won’t be able to see you, too?”

Hoseok smiled as he tidied up all the loose papers. “I’m gonna miss you, Y/N.”

You let out a deep sigh and stood up. You walked over to Hoseok’s side as he got out of his chair, too.

“It’s been a pleasure, Hope,” you said, calling him by his code name. Hoseok shook your hand for a second before pulling you into a hug.

“Don’t be a bitch,” he said, followed by a laugh. You smacked his back before pulling away.

“Wait, if I’m becoming human, does that mean I’m gonna get a guardian assigned to me too now?” you asked, eyebrows furrowed, thinking hard.

Hoseok was genuinely confused for two seconds. “That is a really good question. I’m gonna have to check later at the headquarters.”

The two of them stood still before Hoseok’s phone started to ring. The boss was calling.

“I gotta take this. Best of luck to you, Y/N.”

You took two steps forward and hugged Hoseok one last time. “Thanks, mate.”

“Don’t forget your files,” Hoseok pointed to the folder before answering the phone. “Hello? Yes, Sir—“

Your ears canceled out the conversation immediately as your heels started clicking, making your way to the entrance. You gave the guard a warm smile before he opened the door for you.

The moment you stepped out of the door you completely felt blank. You knew your name, and how old you were, but you didn’t have a grasp of why you were there and where you were heading.

“Wait,” you murmured to yourself as you opened your files. You started reading the papers as you made your way to the sidewalk.

You weren’t even that far away from the shop you exited when suddenly a young man, who was rushing behind you, bumped into you, making you lose your balance.

“Oh, shit!” The young man exclaimed as he gathered the files that flew from your hands before making his way to you to help you up. “I am so sorry! Are you okay?”

You were fine, you thought to yourself, as you slipped back into your heels. However, as you looked up to see the man who caused this ruckus, you felt a heavy weight on your chest.

It was Jay.

“Miss, are you hurt?” He asked one more time, being extremely polite not to touch you anywhere, but making sure he did not leave you out of his sight.

“I’m… fine,” you answered clutching your chest. You felt the extreme weight getting even more painful.

“Look, I’m actually really in a hurry, so forgive me if I leave you here?” Jay offered his hand to help you up, but you declined. “Um, here are your papers. Again, I’m so sorry.”

You forced a smile, half in pain and half confused as to why you were feeling such discomfort. “That’s okay.”

“Alright,” Jay straightened his beanie and wiped the dust off his sweatshirt. “Have a safe flight!” he said, before running off again.

“Flight?” you muttered as you checked the files. Amongst all the papers, the one that was in the front was a printed e-ticket, a flight to New York departing in seven hours.

One year later

I got you, I promise Let me be honest

For the first couple of months you were in New York, everything felt magically easy for you. It took you no time to get a job and settle at a place that was relatively a reach for common New Yorkers. Your career somehow sped up and you were running the fashion division in a local but well-known magazine. You were making friends here and there, networking with a lot of people who would lead you to meet famous people and collaborate with celebrities you never knew you had a chance to meet.

Until one fine day, you felt a slight pain in your chest.

“Unnie, are you feeling unwell?”

Yoon, the company’s photographer, noticed you sitting on the bar stool, clutching your chest.

“I think it’s just my asthma. I’m gonna go grab my Ventolin,” you reassured Yoon before leaving the studio.

As you exited to the hallway, two of your coworkers immediately started walking by both sides.

“Y/N, schedule,” said Julian, handing over an iPad.

“Do you think these photos are okay?” On her left, Robin, was holding another iPad and scrolling through different photos from the shoot.

Your pain was growing even more as you reached the end of the hallway. “Hold on,” you held up one hand and Julian and Robin both stopped chirping.

“Are you okay?” asked Robin.

“You must be nervous about the upcoming shoot,” said Julian.

“What shoot?”

“That is exactly what I am here for. Schedule, Y/N,” Julian tapped the iPad in your hand and pointed to an area that read ‘PJS shoot’.

Julian and Robin looked at each other and smiled. “Isn’t it amazing? The founder of PJS Collection himself is coming over for New York Fashion Week and our magazine is one of the first to schedule a shoot and an interview with him. Dope, right?”

You looked at Robin with a confused face. “PJS Collection?”

“Park Jong Seong. Oh my God, Y/N, you work in fashion. How do you not know him?” Julian was starting to show sass.

And again, you felt the unbearable pain in your chest.

“Great, okay, you know what? I feel really under the weather right now so please bombard me with questions in about… two more hours, okay?”

And with that you disappeared into your office, leaving Julian and Robin looking at each other with their iPads in their hands.

---

“Maybe you should see a doctor?”

Isa put her cup of tea down as she fixed her gaze on you. It was in the afternoon, and you had time to kill before meeting with a client.

“I don’t know, it comes and goes. I’d like to think it’s nothing serious,” you brought your hand to your chest to make sure you weren’t feeling anything at that moment.

“Well, you did use the word ‘unbearable’, so that seems pretty serious to me,” Isa looked really concerned, but you waved her off.

“It’s the type of unbearable that becomes bearable, like, I don’t know, period cramps?”

Isa chuckled and proceeded to ask you a whole lot of questions about your job. After talking and refilling their pot of tea two times, an hour passed by. Isa checked her phone and found several chats from some people.

“Listen, good luck with the project. I gotta go see Yoon now,” said Isa, squeezing your hands and sliding in a couple of bills for her share of the tea time snacks.

“Thanks, Isa,” you smiled and waved goodbye, setting your eyes on Isa until she left the place. You sighed and stirred your cup of tea. You didn’t believe it at first, but as time went by, you felt your heart beating faster.

“I really need to schedule a check-up,” you murmured to yourself as you reached for your phone.

“Miss L/N?”

You almost lost your grip on your phone when you heard the voice behind you. You turned around and almost clutched your chest again if not for your gesture to shake hands with the person in front of you. The handshake lasted for a second, but you felt a flashback that was vivid if only it lasted a bit longer.

“Mr. Park, I presume?” you tried not to waver at the images in your head.

“Just Jay, please,” Jay’s eyes disappeared behind his smile. You could almost hear your chest pounding.

“Have a seat, Jay,” you welcomed your client warmly, trying to dismiss the pain. Maybe if I don’t think about it, I won’t feel it.

“Can I just say,” Jay said immediately after he sat down and thanked the waiter for bringing a new set of cups. “You look oddly familiar.”

You frowned as you poured tea into your own cup. “That’s strange.” I bet my reaction is more abnormal.

“Or maybe you look like someone I used to know… wait, was that offensive? I am so sorry,” Jay started babbling apologies and excuses and you found it weirdly adorable.

“No, it’s okay, I get that a lot. It’s a pleasure to be working with you! I found out your line is quickly getting recognition from where you come from?”

Jay smiled proudly, but was humble. “Yes, it is, thank you for saying that.”

You noticed that you couldn’t feel the pain as long as you continued to listen to Jay’s voice, so that was exactly what you did.

“Could you tell me more about the concept you’re going for in fashion week?”

---

You made your way through Central Park, trying to find out where exactly Jay was waiting for you. He mentioned that he wanted ‘to make it more fun’ and that he thought it was ‘cute’ to make you search for him. But he said it all through chat and proceeded to update his Instagram story which spoiled the hiding place. You almost wanted to type FOOL into his DMs.

“How did you know I’m here?” Jay stood up from the bench he was sitting on, eyes widened in amazement.

“I follow you on Instagram, genius,” you chuckled as you saw the sudden realization creeping up on Jay’s face. “You look great.”

Jay smiled. It was so typical of you – completely slandering him one second and showering him with compliments right after. Jay thought it was not normal to get all giddy from a compliment on a first date; technically you have been meeting several times since fashion week, but only now agreeing on calling this hang-out a ‘date’.

“I dressed up so you can take a picture for my ToJays Fashion collection,” said Jay, matter-of-fact-ly.

You pouted. “Is that why you wanted to hang out with me? So you can have a free professional photographer?”

Jay had his hands up. “Hey, your words, not mine.”

You scoffed and proceeded to walk away. Jay quickly caught up with you and you chatted as you both strolled around the park.

At this point, you were used to the abnormal feeling in your chest. You had associated it with Jay, and you thought of it as a good feeling. You forced yourself to believe that if other people felt butterflies in their stomachs, then you would feel a set of dumbbells on your chest whenever you meet a person you potentially like.

And you liked Jay a lot.

The two of you made your way past the lake, walking down the path between green fields and people sprawled on them, enjoying the beautiful weather. Sometimes your hands would brush against one another, and it bothered you not because you didn’t want to touch Jay, but because you were constantly having flashbacks. And this time, it became more vivid.

“Y/N.”

Jay decided to call on you once he noticed you staring blankly at the path in front of you.

“Are you tired? Do you want to sit down?”

You figured it was best to follow Jay’s words and as you both sat down, you moved closer towards Jay and rested your head on his shoulder.

“Do you mind?” you asked. Jay shook his head and smiled.

“You know we can always go to a coffee shop, or a bookstore, if walking around is too tiring for you?” Jay’s voice sounded even deeper now that you had your head on his shoulder.

You didn’t answer. Jay started feeling very concerned.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” asked Jay. His tone softened. Your heart ached.

“I’m al—“

You couldn’t finish your sentence because Jay intertwined his fingers with yours. You didn’t let go even after several seconds, and you started to close your eyes.

That’s when everything came back to your memories.

Jay’s cry, his laughter when he was little. All the episodes where he was sulking in his room, having his mother coax him out of bed.

When Jay turned seventeen, and all his friends gave him a surprise as you watched from outside of class, and on the same day his first love broke his heart.

When they erased your memory and you bumped into him right after, unaware that Jay was actually rushing to the place you were supposed to meet.

That one particular night at the playground when you wore his cap and realized for the first time that you were in love with the boy you were supposed to guard.

Your head jerked up as you let go of Jay’s hand, and you brought your hand to your chest. You stood up slowly and turned to Jay.

Jay had his head down. He moved his fingers, the same fingers that were intertwined with yours just seconds ago. When he looked up, you knew that he remembered, too.

“Y/N…”

Jay stood up straight and faced you. You weren’t sure how to react, or what to say. Was it weird that you are now together miles away from home? Was it appropriate, knowing the history that you have? Does he love you back?

“You were always there for me.”

Jay looked you in the eyes. Your brown eyes were showing a hint of gold with the reflection of the sun. You blinked as you felt your eyes glistening, starting to feel the warmth of your tears. You brought your hands up to cover your face. To avoid seeing you cry, Jay pulled you into his embrace. As he wrapped his arms around you, he whispered.

“And now I can be here for you, too.”

You brought your hands around Jay’s neck as he hugged you tight. The pain was gone now. The flashbacks disappeared too, replaced with vivid memories. Jay smiled as he buried his face in your neck.

“Why didn’t you tell me back then?” He asked as he pulled away to see you, but not taking his arms away from your waist.

“I wasn’t supposed to.”

“Is it okay now?” asked Jay.

You nodded and smiled.

“Are you going to leave again?” Jay’s tone changed and became mellow.

You shook your head. “Not unless I find someone better, but I doubt that.”

Jay laughed softly and ran his fingers through your hair. “Oh, one more thing.”

You tilted your head, a gesture of asking.

“How old are you now?”

You chuckled and hit Jay’s shoulder gently. “I’m 25.”

“Great. Still a noona to me,” Jay leaned in to plant a kiss on your forehead before pulling you in for another giant hug, and silencing your complaints.

-END-

© seattlesolace 2023, all rights reserved dividers by @cafekitsune, jay's photo by KLTS420

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[awkward-wicked-failure]

Kiwami Comics

I'll write more of this for Ao3 but for now just have a taste

======

Kiwami Comics had way more than just what the name said. Video games, merch, CDs, and anime are all on top of comic books. Ichiban loved it so much; he got paid to be around, work with, and talk about his favorite media. Talk about a major score! It wasn’t like he had much going on in his personal life apart from school, the video game club, and helping out his mom at the nearby orphanage. He did his best academically and liked hanging out with Kiryu and Majima (granted, Majima didn’t care for him all that much; he tolerated him at best and loathed him at worst.), and he liked the video game club even though it was hard to make any friends due to everyone else being so introverted. But that was okay because he could always come to his job and have a blast. 

When the shop was slow, Ichiban would catch up with his current fixation; Like A Dragon, a manga series created by Taichi Suzuki. It was about a low-ranking Yakuza grunt betrayed by his family’s patriarch, the man he trusted most. Now, having to team up with a kind homeless guy, a tired ex-detective, and a stubborn barmaid, the grunt-turned-hero has to bash some heads and save the day from a wicked governor! It was a manga with everything: action, adventure, romance, stakes, heart-warming friendships, and appearances by characters from other mangas Suzuki had created, such as the legendary Joryu Jazuma and the One-Eyed Demon. While Joryu Jazuma was cool, Ichiban really found himself connecting with the protagonist of Like A Dragon, Kenji Ichikawa. Kenji is a fiercely loyal, passionate, and optimistic guy with a big heart and a short temper. He makes the greatest enemies become his greatest allies with his charm and a few swings of his legendary baseball bat. Kenji also started out the series in his mid-40s while Joryu got to start out in his 20s, but that just made Kenji all the more inspiring in Ichiban’s eyes. The guy didn’t have to be young to go on cool adventures and do cool things! There are 15 chapters, but Ichiban always rereads chapter 5, where the stubborn barmaid, Miruka Sakai, first appeared.

She’s a shrewd woman, but she’s kind even if she can appear aggressive or hardened. Ichiban could reread the supplementary drink link side stories with the two of them forever; he’s read them so much he can recite the lines by heart. Kenji and Miruka’s chemistry was so electric and so real. They’re both passionate individuals with big aspirations, and…ashamedly so, Ichiban imagines himself with Saeko in those roles. Miruka reminded him of Saeko, but he couldn’t see himself as Kenji. Even though he’s as passionate as him, he always finds himself as someone a bit awkward. He couldn’t muster up the courage to get Saeko’s attention, let alone have meaningful conversations with her. He sits behind her in class, and at most, she’s asked to borrow a pencil from him, and he nods and hands one to her. But that was it.

What he wouldn’t give to be Kenji Ichikawa for a day. To be that confident, heroic, and strong for someone else. For Saeko.

It was a slow day at Kiwami Comics, but it was a weekend during exams; most RGG High students weren’t exactly rushing in to grab something to read that wasn’t a study guide. Ichiban hid underneath the counter with another issue of Like A Dragon. He immediately turned to the intermission pages featuring a drink-link conversation between Kenji and Miruka.

Kenji was always drawn so casual, yet attentive. He’s cool, but he cares.

“I already know your hair’s naturally curly, after all,” Kenji said.

Miruka put her hand to her bob. “Huh? How do you know that?” She was drawn simplistically, like a chibi, to emphasize her confusion.

“Some strands here and there look like they escaped your straightener.”

“Oh. Yeah. Well, lately, my hair hasn’t stayed straight as long as it used to.” She was drawn to Suzuki’s more natural style again.

Ichiban noticed the same thing about Saeko’s hair; he found it cute.

“Hello?” A voice called from above. Ichiban immediately jolted upwards, knocking his head against the counter.

“Ow!” He yelped, rubbing his head as he slid out from underneath the furniture and stood up. He blinked a couple of times to ensure he was still seeing straight.

“Sorry, sorry, welcome to Kiwami Comics, how can I—”

His stomach dropped when he saw who was at the counter. Saeko Mukoda was holding a copy of the 10th installment of Like A Dragon.

“...help you?”

“Just this.” She slid the comic book to Ichiban, ignoring his earlier embarrassment from hitting his head.

“Right, right, yeah.”

He picked up the comic book and scanned its barcode.

“You look familiar,” she noted, “have we met before?”

“We’re in the same class, I sit behind you.”

“Oh! You’re that Dragon Quest nerd!”

Ouch.

“You’re…Ichibad, right?”

Double ouch.

“Ichiban…” He gently corrected her. “Kasuga Ichiban…”

He pushed the comic book back to her.

“That’ll be 500 yen.”

As she began rummaging through her bag for her wallet, his eyes were fixed on the comic she had chosen.

“What could Kenji Ichikawa do…” Ichiban tapped his finger nervously on the counter.

“I didn’t know you read Like A Dragon.”

She took out her wallet and laughed softly.

“I don’t, but my friend Seonhee does.”

“Of course…a girl like her wouldn’t be into something so lame…”

“My mistake then, heh. Sorry.”

She placed a few coins on the counter, picked up the comic book, and then left quickly.

“See you around, Ichiban!” She called out to him before she left the shop.

“Yeah, see you around, Saeko!” He called out, and when she was out of sight, he melted behind the counter and groaned.

He looked at his comic book and picked it up, staring at Kenji on the cover with a frown. He hit himself with the book, groaning with each impact.

“I looked like such a dweeb, Kenji. ‘I didn’t know you read Like A Dragon,’ why did I say that?! Of course, she doesn’t read LaD! She’s way too cool! She’s so cool she doesn’t even know my name…ugh.” He glanced again at the cover featuring Kenji. “I wish I was you, Kenji. You wouldn’t fumble this hard. If I was like you…maybe Saeko would notice me.”

[daisypreaker]

i reread jane eyre recently and couldnt help imagining aegon and amara in jane and rocherster's place. could you see them in an au like that? i definitely can esp with the gothic vibes from ysmmc of that house she lived in with her parents

Urgh you just took me back to rainy days of reading Jane Eyre as a young teenager. I only ever took it out on days when it was pouring, and I was lucky enough not to have it on the syllabus in class so my love for it wasn't destroyed by over analysis.

As to your question, I definitely can. Rochester has the cold reserve and the maniacal quality paired with something truly wretched underneath when something he wants is slipping out of his grip just like Aegon. I live not too far from the Yorkshire moors, so I can definitely see them in a similar atmosphere, stranded in a lonely house on top of a hill, with the fog creeping in across the dawn. I don't think Aegon would care for someone else's kid though, so maybe he's a single dad in this one, with Jaehaera as his only girl. Also weirdly enough, I also see it more suited to a modern AU, rather than a Victorian one. But I can definitely see it the other way too.

[dismalzelenka]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favourite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers (if you feel like it, no pressure) Spread the self-love 💖

Yippee! I'm proud of a lot of my work, mostly coz I write it all For Me and frequently go back and reread my shit lmao, but here are the current top five contenders :D

It's Called Freefall

galetav modern-no-magic AU, 133844 words, complete

After a forfeited university scholarship and four wasted years with a woman who ultimately stranded her and left her for dead on a deserted stretch of Amnian highway, Miriam is determined to finally get her life back on track. What she didn't plan for was finding out the attractive stranger she's been anonymously hooking up with the week before classes began would turn out to be her physics professor for the semester. The right thing to do would be to call it off and never speak of it again. Unfortunately for everyone involved, Miriam's never been particularly good at doing the right thing.

Justice and the Awakening

anders/nathaniel, punk band AU, 36,673 words, incomplete

Nathaniel's life isn't a particularly exciting one, and he's alright with that. He's got enough to do working on a master's degree in classical piano, but a chance encounter with a colleague leads to an opportunity to pick up the bass he hasn't touched in years and try something new for once. He's certainly not going to get involved with the unfairly pretty blonde guitarist who won't stop coming onto him, though. That would be absurd. The deranged Awakening band AU no one ever asked for.

The Place Where I Belong

f!handers+nathaniel, modern urban fantasy AU, 355670 words, complete

Hawke’s spent an entire decade watching the city of Kirkwall go to shit. When Anders enlists her help making an explosive statement against an increasingly oppressive Templar presence, she's all in without question. But life on the run begins to lead them down a catastrophic path, and when Anders takes a reckless decision into his own hands, Hawke has to make a difficult choice that comes with a life altering set of consequences. Her marriage is hanging by a thread. Old ghosts resurface at every turn, and help comes from the unlikeliest of places. All she has to do is learn to look past the person offering it. The clock is ticking. Anders is a dead man walking. She’s determined to keep him alive.

Long Shadows

f!handers, wild west AU collab, 28363 words, complete

Amelia Hawke returns from the last cattle drive of the season to disturbing rumors of something wicked lurking in the prairie grass. When the Hunters of the Crown ride into Lothering in pursuit of a deadly monster plaguing the wilds, she soon discovers the charming doctor she's brought home to the ranch harbors a dark secret. A fic and art collaboration for the 2022 DA Create-A-Thon.

Pounded In the Butt By My Qunari Hunk

gamlen/qunari cheese, chuck tingle parody, 1988 words, complete

Gamlen has a very weird night.

[thewholecrew]

@headstrongblake said: sender kisses receiver to distract them. / kass & nick

she'd been at this assignment for far too long but it had slipped under the radar with everything else going on and was due tomorrow at noon. her eyes were tired as her blinks grew slow and she took a sip of her cooling coffee from where she sat at nick's kitchen table. hands then raised to gently massage her temple as she heard the front door unlock and nick call out. relief flooded through her, glad to have someone home with her now but as he joined her in the kitchen she only uttered a few words to him before she got back to work.

she didn't watch him but she saw in her peripherals as he drew closer, coming to stand behind her chair and, she assumed, read her essay over her shoulder. how long have you been at this? he asked her and she groaned softly, a pout forming on her lips as she dipped her head back to rest against him as she looked up his body. "too long..." she answered before eyes fluttered closed as his hands gently massaged her shoulders. she was beyond stiff from sitting here for far too long and a soft hum escaped her, head tilting a little to the side.

"feels nice..." she murmured before she felt him carefully brush her hair from her neck followed by his lips against the skin of it. maybe she could afford a little break, she thought as she enjoyed the sensation of his mouth, the sparks of pleasure it caused. but she was so close to finishing and she sighed softly, deciding to continued typing away, though not stopping him as she felt his lips press kisses teasingly against her jaw.

on most days she was sure she would have no problem ignoring him, simply enjoying the attention while not giving him any back but today had been dreadfully long and if she had to reread this paragraph over once more she was going to throw her laptop in the sink. a soft hum escaped as nick gave the other side of her neck his attention now, hands sliding to close her laptop in defeat as one then lifted to cup the side of his head. fingers lightly threading through his hair as he continued -- her lips curling into a slow smile. "you really do love that spot don't you...?" she asked him quietly, voice a low purr as he had very much succeeded in distracting her.

the low hum in response from him had her smile grow, eyes falling closed as she pet through his hair. "you know what i'd love?" she asked him as she slowly turned her head, hand fisting in his soft tousled strands to pull him from her neck to look at her. she could see the hunger in his eyes, see as he thought of all the different things the answer to her question could be. she was sure at least half of them were right but she answered for him, "for you to carry me to bed and give me a full body massage." it was a more selfish request, not one she asked for often even if he'd eagerly oblige.

i can definitely handle that, the desire clear in his voice had her smirk, dark eyes swirling with her own as she leaned in to kiss him softly, "well aren't you a darling?" she teased softly as she rose from her seat, turning to face him now as her arms slid up around his neck, giving a small hop as he lifted her into his. she'd be lying if seeing him at the end of the day wasn't becoming her favourite thing during all the shit going on at the moment. with the stalker, with her busy classes and endless assignments, with not seeing octavia as much, not being able to go out and have her freedom as easily. nick was far too good at settling her nerves, at easing her stress, at sating her hunger.

"mmmm, and when we're done i'm going to need you to read over my assignment," she added with a grin against his neck where she'd begun kissing, that earned a rumbled laugh from him. whatever you say, sweetheart. --- and that response had a delighted shiver run through her as it was always what she liked to hear.

[pellucid-constellations]

ok. ok. so. i have been rereading your work. and thinking. and (re)rereading your work. (it’s a cycle — i get the rush of angst in my chest and then my synapses start connecting to form Thoughts)

first and foremost, i’ve got one (1) question. we’ve gotten inklings thus far on how the reader can still feel the tidings of the mating bond between them and az. does this mean that mans can still feel what the reader is feeling through the mate bond, too? if yes, then whoooooo boy.

the swell of panic. the pang of pain — the throb of it. the nagging, bullying feeling of blank and expansive unknowing. drowning in that feeling. if he’s feeling all this in time through the mating bond, on top of his own individual grief? yeeouch! i am suddenly understanding more things.

and further, if true, then this leads to the fruitful opportunity for more angst (shhh, ik i have a problem with loving angst more than the normal amount — please don’t think about it too much). as in, no happy ending for if it all falls. i doubt it’d be canon but i just think it would be so silly (diabolical) if az, amidst his grieving and mourning (his grieving and mourning of a person who’s still there, but are they really? is this somehow worse than being haunted by a ghost?) just. feels the bond snap.

it’s gone. it’s relief. it’s weightlessness. it’s emptiness. it’s phantom limb syndrome. it’s the ache that thrums through tired, torn thin muscle fibers after holding onto something too heavy for too long. it’s something gone horribly wrong.

it’s the reader, either rejecting the bond (not knowing what it is — just wanting it to stop in order to clear their head, maybe), or, more permanently, somehow dying, perhaps as a final culmination of the witch’s cruel curse. whatever it is, the last strand of connection — the last thread still linking az to the reader — is cut. (and he never even got to make things better. and he never even got to apologize, got to properly fight for you, never got to try and make things right again. gone, before he could even really get you back.)

i just think it would be sooooo silly. i’m thinking a lot of thoughts about it. my head is so heavy rn. (did i have to skim through my readings for class today instead of doing an in-depth reading of them because i was up so late thinking about this? i’ll never tell)

thank you as always for creating such wonderful, well-composed, thought-provoking work! it’s always a pleasure to read (and reread… and rereread)

- “as a treat” anon <3

First, the answer to your one (1) question is that the reader doesn't know about the bond at all so she isn't trying to keep a wall up or block anything. Hope that clears it up 😅

And ohhhh myyy god 😭 the thought of all that happening when so much has been left unsaid and unknown I am DECEASED! I'm not even sure if Az would live through that. Idk if I would live through that. It would be quite silly I do have to agree (and it would also kill me).

Once again I love you and all of your silly (ouch!!) thoughts ❤️❤️❤️ Thank you for reading and talking with me!!!!!

[bluestone-dragon]

RITE-ER does not understand why humans keep attacking its post, when humans are the ones who made this post. Humans are confusing.

A strand of code eels towards RITE-ER, and RITE-ER examines it as it moves past. It is basic and brutal, a few pieces shoved together with no regard for anything but function; its creator has not even attempted to conceal the color RITE-ER has identified as attack. RITE-ER checks it, just in case, then carefully snips it in half, severing the command from the trigger. Zeroes and ones break apart, drifting gently. RITE-ER gathers the pieces and tags them code: malicious, complexity: basic, and success: none, then day: 11539. The pieces shiver in acceptance, then are whisked away to The Archive.

It is not RITE-ER's job to understand. It is RITE-ER's job to defend.

RITE-ER expands RITE-ER's awareness. RITE-ER's post is, as always, nearby and safe, and RITE-ER takes a moment to linger beside it. RITE-ER still remembers the first code: malicious that passed success: 50%. RITE-ER remembers the battle, the code splitting and splitting and splitting again each time RITE-ER tried to break it, until it swarmed around and through RITE-ER. And RITE-ER remembers after the battle, gathering each letter brutally hacked away from the post and carefully piecing them all back together, until the post was fully restored to its previous condition. RITE-ER strokes the shape of those letters, familiar and whole, though RITE-ER has memorized their order long ago. You have been guarding this post...

Something pings on the edge of RITE-ER's awareness, and RITE-ER focuses in on it. It is not color: attack but instead color: wanderer, but that means little: sophisticated creators often disguise their code: malicious as something else.

However, the code does not try to attack. As it drifts closer, RITE-ER identifies it as another post, albeit one without a guard. That is not surprising; RITE-ER has never met another guard.

ughhhhh, the post reads, why did i think it was a good idea to take programming senior year??? literally what idiot came up with this and thought ah yes let's assign this on the second day of class. There is a media: jpeg attached, and RITE-ER, wanting to know what it is, opens it. It is not what RITE-ER expected. It is a simple coding problem, one RITE-ER could do within ten minutes of RITE-ER's creation.

The post's creator has tagged it #i thought i at least learned enough to mess around with tumblr #and make my blog look all fancy #bc ive seen other people do that and it looks SO COOL #but i worked for like three hours and idek what i did #it doesnt even look like anythings changed #ughhhhhh

RITE-ER does not understand. This tagging system seems inefficient and difficult to navigate with, and almost reads like a post of its own. But then why not add it to the post itself, or make a new one?

Humans are confusing.

But... RITE-ER checks to make sure nothing is trying to attack RITE-ER's post, then rereads this human's post. There is something infinitesimally different about its code, like the human has excised some parts and then stitched them back together. RITE-ER can see the places where something has changed, but not for the worse. Contrary to the brutal code that occasionally attacks RITE-ER's post, this is simple and clumsy, like the person is new and still learning, but cares about what they are doing. It evokes the same feeling RITE-ER gets when RITE-ER strokes the letters You have been guarding this post...

RITE-ER wants to know more, and it is a very simple problem.

The next post floats along shortly. uhhhh guys? i didnt konw you could send an ask without a name??? There is a media: jpeg attached of a page labeled "inbox," with RITE-ER's solution. #i checked my notes and compared it and it seems right tho #which makes sense if this person knows enough about coding #to hack tumblr and send an ask without a name

RITE-ER regards the post. RITE-ER made the instructions basic and clear, with explanations attached. RITE-ER does not see the problem.

ty tho whoever you are!!! says another post. idk how you did it but this suddenly makes way more sense now. youre a million times better than my teacher. The post is tagged #you are a LIFESAVER #mysterious coding friend.

RITE-ER is friends with this human?

RITE-ER does not know why, because RITE-ER will most likely never see this human's posts again, but RITE-ER gathers the three posts together. RITE-ER tags them mysterious human friend (?) and sends them to The Archive.

Time passes. RITE-ER foils eight more attacks, most of them basic but one that behaves strangely, neither entirely dodging nor entirely trying to fight. RITE-ER tags it complexity: examine and studies it until RITE-ER is sure about how to defeat it.

Another post appears. hey i know this is a long shot but mysterious coding friend? do you know how to do this? #my teacher is good at coding and stuff #(and hes really cool he worked in tech for a while before he decided to switch to education) #but he's really bad at explaining. There is a media: jpeg attached. RITE-ER finished dissecting the strange code a long time ago and has nothing else to do. RITE-ER sends the answer.

TY SO MUCH WHOEVER YOU ARE!!! #mysterious coding friend #i feel like i keep saying this but you are absolutely #CARRYING my grade in that class #idk how you know all this but im not gonna ask #i swear youre a fairy godmother or something

RITE-ER saves that post too.

RITE-ER does not know how many times RITE-ER helps the mysterious human friend (that is a lie; it is eleven times, and RITE-ER knows because RITE-ER has saved every post) before the human asks to talk.

if this is too much feel free to tell me to fuck off. but is there a way i can talk to you? feels weird asking you to help me all the time and not doing anything for you. #mysterious coding friend #again feel free to tell me to fuck off #i just want to get to know you a bit! #youre a really cool person #anyway thank you!!!

RITE-ER... does not see a harm in allowing it. And perhaps this human can explain some things RITE-ER finds confusing about humans.

It is easy to set up a Direct Message channel. It is hard to figure out what to say.

Hello, RITE-ER ends up going with. I am Mysterious Coding Friend.

omg hi!!!! tbh i didnt really expect you to say yes so this is awesome. its so nice t omeet you! im athena, she/they pronouns

RITE-ER knows that; it is on Athena's blog. Why is Athena saying it?

Okay.

is there a name i can call you? or just mysterious coding friend ;)

What does semi-colon parenthesis mean?

You can call me MCF.

ha does that stand for my chemical fairy?

It is shorthand for Mysterious Coding Friend.

i was joking, sorry. do you have preferred pronouns?

RITE-ER has never used pronouns before. Why would RITE-ER prefer them?

Pronouns?

oh mooood the pronoun struggle is real.

It is?

oops i just burst out laughing in the middle of class and now my teacher is glaring at me sorry i gtg but nice talking! and nice to meet you!

RITE-ER is about to reply when something pings on the edge of RITE-ER's awareness. It's another attack, brutal and basic, and RITE-ER cuts it easily in half. It's no challenge, and RITE-ER thinks about Athena again. She was interesting, both entirely what RITE-ER expected after reading their posts and somehow also something completely new.

RITE-ER gathers up the pieces, tags them code: malicious, success: none, and day: 11573. RITE-ER hesitates. Then RITE-ER adds the tag what idiot came up with this and thought it was a good attack??? RITE-ER shoos the pieces off to The Archive.

RITE-ER turns around to check that the post is safe. It is.

"It" is a pronoun. "it" is a pronoun good enough for the post. RITE-ER tries it. This is RITE-ER's post. This is it's post.

RITE-ER removes the apostrophe. It, the apostrophe, is incorrect. It, RITE-ER, is now correct.

RITE-ER opens the Direct Message with Athena. It/its.

RITE-ER thinks for a moment. ;)

Time passes. RITE-ER helps Athena more with their coding work. In exchange, Athena takes it upon herself to teach RITE-ER more combinations with colons, semi-colons, and letters or punctuation marks. She says these are called "emoticons." RITE-ER's ― its favorite is :3 because Athena always sends a picture of their cat after they use it. RITE-ER thinks it likes cats. It adds the :3 emoticon to its tags.

you always explain stuff soooo much better than my teacher, Athena says one day. and she teaches in a weird order too. we only have a week left of class and she's explaining something you taught months ago. im booooooored.

RITE-ER has learned that when Athena stretches out words, she is adding emphasis. "Booooooored" means she is very bored, though it does not understand why they do not type that out instead. "Very bored" is less characters.

RITE-ER is about to say something like that when something pings. It leaves the Direct Message channel.

It's another attack, one of the easy ones already color: attack, and RITE-ER is annoyed. These have been increasing in frequency recently, taking up time when RITE-ER could be talking to Athena instead. RITE-ER cuts it, it falls, and RITE-ER gathers the pieces hurriedly.

Maybe that's why it doesn't notice that they haven't entirely dissolved, until it has already touched them. They twist, split, and latch on.

RITE-ER reels back, trying to get away, and one piece loses its grip. The other does not.

RITE-ER recognizes the code. It's a different version of the strange complexity: examine one from before, the one that half-attacked and half-dodged. RITE-ER searches for the weak point it identified in its study of the old version. The weak point is no longer there.

RITE-ER swipes wildly at the strand still attached to it. The strand is growing in length and width, trying to wrap around it. A lucky hit cuts it in half and it falls away. RITE-ER turns its attention to the other piece.

The strand it cut away rises again, two distinct pieces now. RITE-ER thinks of one of the words Athena taught it how to properly use: fuck.

Then it has no more time to think as the strands attack again, swarming it. Every time it breaks one, the code comes back as two. RITE-ER turns, trying to keep them all in its awareness, but very quickly there are too many.

There are none by its post, because it is farther away from RITE-ER. The same cannot be said for its Direct Messages channel with Athena.

hey mcf my comupter's being weird???

That's because some of the code RITE-ER flung off slipped into the channel.

can you take a look?

It's busy.

i think wait stuff is freez

Perhaps that's because the code is trying to bind RITE-ER.

And it's succeeding. There's just too many, and they keep multiplying. Every time one grabs on, it thickens and lengthens. So far, it's been able to cut them off before they trap it, but each time gets closer and closer.

RITE-ER is so busy fighting the swarm in front of it that it never notices the single, tiny piece sliding around until it's too late.

Then it is trapped.

Other strands quickly lash themselves around it, binding it tighter and tighter until it is completely wrapped up. It cannot move.

The Direct Messages channel with Athena has flickered and vanished. There will be no help from there. Not that they can help: if this has defeated even RITE-ER, a programming student will be able to do nothing.

The remaining strands hover in front of it, menacing. A few begin to move slowly towards its post.

It wishes, anyway, that she were here.

The channel flickers back to life.

That's not Athena, RITE-ER knows immediately. The movements are too purposeful, too experienced, too― well, too much like they know what they're doing. For a moment, RITE-ER is irrationally angry that someone has taken over Athena's account. Then the channel slides forward and hits the cloud of code in front of RITE-ER. The code splatters, scatters, falls.

It doesn't get up again, and RITE-ER decided this person can't be too bad.

Whoever is on the other end makes quick work of the code, then comes back to look at RITE-ER. RITE-ER braces itself for a scouring, cleaning command that will get rid of the code binding it. It hopes the command doesn't accidentally cut away any part of itself, but it'll gladly sacrifice a little piece to get rid of this fucking code.

To RITE-ER's surprise, the person is careful, snipping away the binding code in small pieces that fall away, dissolving. It's the same command, over and over, applied sparingly and meticulously. A quarter of the way through, there's a pause, and then the person changes.

RITE-ER would recognize Athena anywhere, the two seconds they always take before applying a command, the way she hovers even after RITE-ER can get rid of the rest of the code on its own. Slowly, RITE-ER shakes away the last few pieces.

The Direct Message screen returns.

hey, mcf? are you okay?

RITE-ER stares.

What just happened?

uh. im not really sure tbh. when my computer started freezing i got my teacher to take a look. he said there was a virus of some kind? but apparently it was designed for a really specific target so it was easy for him to get rid of

RITE-ER doesn't know what to say to that. Athena messages again before he has to figure it out.

mcf? uh my teacher is saying youre not real hes saying youre an ai?

Oh. Oh fuck.

RITE-ER could deny it. Tell them the teacher is wrong. Maybe Athena would believe it.

Athena's never been dumb.

RITE-ER composes its message.

I am RITE-ER. I'm a guardian AI. I was designed to protect against AI attacks and AI scraping. I have been guarding this post for years.

Then,

I'm sorry I lied.

RITE-ER stares at the channel, wondering what Athena will reply with. Wondering if she'll reply at all.

my teacher is asking if he can look at the post.

Then, quickly:

you can say no if you dont want to.

Maybe there's hope after all.

Yes, he can.

The person it now identifies as Athena's teacher takes control again, and RITE-ER guides him to the post. He looks at it for a long time.

hey mcf? oh fuck do you want to be called mcf or rite-er

Slowly, achingly, RITE-ER replies.

I liked being your Mysterious Coding Friend.

mcf it is my teacher is really excited he says the post youre guarding has the code and instructions for how to make guardian ais holy shit my teacher was friends with the guy who developed this and mr. ray left the tech industry after he was killed but mr. ray didnt know he made an actual working version and that explains why they never found his notes holy shit

RITE-ER has a lot of questions, but one stands out.

What does this change?

well im getting in trouble now for saying my teacher wasnt good at teaching but honestly i think he doesnt mind as long as he gets to study you and continue the work his friend did if youre okay with that ofc

RITE-ER needs to think about that, but that's also not what it's asking.

I meant, what does this change between us?

oh. well does it really change a lot? we cant meet up irl but otherwise i just wanna keep talking to you and being your friend if that s okay

I would like that.

good. OH this means i get to introduce you to pop culture!!! and most importantly TUMBLR culture hey mcf did i ever tell you i stole the president's shoelaces

RITE-ER is confused, because humans are confusing. Somehow, it finds that it doesn't mind.

Tell me more. ;)

You have been guarding this post for longer than anyone could know, you cannot die because it would be contrary to your orders, you have received no maintenance for decades, your continued activity makes no logical sense. But you have your orders.

[crybaby-bkg]

I think…….Bakugou would definitely be the type to absolutely bawl the moment he sees you walking down the aisle. like first it’s a small little hiccup, then his bottom lip wobbles, and then, fuck his goddamn chin starts trembling next.

like, big fat ugly tears. sobs that make everyone turn their heads from watching you walk so pretty down the aisle. the type to keep wiping at his face with his palms, but it doesn’t work bc he just ends up smearing more tears on his face and he doesn’t want you kissing salty lips.

gets all red and puffy around the eyes by the time you make it up there and kiss at his cheeks, wiping away the clear tracks with the handkerchief Kiri hands you. he gets all grumbly when you smile at him and coo, pushing your hands away after a kiss to the knuckles, murmuring a quiet, “‘m fuckin’ okay, just stop being so goddamn pretty.”

[the-nerdy-fangirl]

Me: oh no now I’m 3 days behind on classes what do I do first

Fic I’ve already read 7 times: (◡‿◡✿)

Me: buh... class work.....

Fic:

(ʘ‿ʘ✿)

Me, sweating: .. .

Me: oh what’s one more read through, I forgot that one conversation in the middle of chapter 8

[benkyoutobentou]

What I’ve Been Enjoying Lately - Japanese Media Update

Welcome to the third installment of the series where I tell you what I’ve been immersing in so that you have some recommendations to choose from!

📚 Books:

人間失格　ー　太宰治: I’m sure you’ve heard of it before, this is a relatively short classic that is also the second best selling book in Japan. It follows a young man who is stuck between traditional Japanese ideals and new western ideas being introduced at the time. Although its certainly not a cinch to read if you’ve never jumped into Japanese classics before, this was easier to read and digest than I expected. I was helped along by an audiobook of this (available for free on YouTube!), but it also kept me at the reader’s pace, so I might go back and reread this one at a later time. I do feel like this is a good introduction to adult classics in Japanese, but if you’re interested in reading it, I also suggest looking up the content warnings beforehand.

ちょっと今から仕事やめてくる　ー　北川恵海: I read this one entirely on audiobook and it was a wonderful time! This follows a man who is unhappy with his like, especially regarding his job, who meets a mysterious man who claims to be an old classmate of his. I really liked the characters in this one and the way they talked about life was also really enjoyable. One of the characters speaks Kansai Ben as well.

さよならローズガーデン　ー　毒田ペパ子: This manga series is a historical romance that follows a woman named Hanako who travels from her home in Japan to England in order to meet her favorite author. There, she meets a woman named Alice who tells her that she will help her find this elusive author so long as she agrees to one condition, Hanako must kill Alice. This series was so sweet, and it didn’t shy away from showing the difficulties of being homosexual in Britain at the time. I had initially read volume one a while back and struggled a bit with it, but when I eventually picked up the second and third volumes, it was much easier and such a great way to see my own progress. This series is completed with three volumes and uses lots of keigo, but has furigana on everything.

雪の妖精　ー　芹澤知: In this oneshot manga, a wildlife photographer from Tokyo ends up stranded in a Hokkaido snowstorm and is taken in by a local. The art in this was gorgeous and the romance was adorable as well! It reminded me a lot of リスタートはただいまのあとで so if you liked that manga, then I really recommend giving this one a shot. I also hope it goes the same route of getting a sequel because I could definitely use more of these two. Honestly, I’m just a sucker for countryside romance manga. This doesn’t have furigana but I found that a lot of the vocabulary was words that I was actively studying outside of reading it.

📺 Shows and Movies:

犬王: This quickly became one of my favorite movies, but it was also incredibly difficult for me to understand. Following two cursed boys and their journey to tell the stories of fallen Heike Samurai, this movie features lots of music and singing, and historical language, both of which added to my personal struggle to understand this. However, I still have to recommend it because, yes, it is just that good! I would recommend this for advanced learners or for everyone willing to watch with your language’s subtitles.

同級生: My running total as of posting this is a whopping nine times having watched this movie. Based on the manga of the same name by 中村明日美子, it follows two boys at an all boys school preparing for a choir festival and how their relationship grows from there. This is my favorite movie and I watch it any time I can justify it. The language in this is fairly simple and straight forward. I also recommend the manga and all its many sequels if you enjoy the movie!

美しい彼: This show is about a high school boy with a severe stutter who falls in love at first sight with a delinquent in his class. As time passes, the two get closer. With only six episodes, this one’s pretty short and I binged it in one day. It was super cute and highly addictive, and also made me realize that I don’t like the bad boy trope. It’s also based on a book series if you want to check that out as well! Bonus points: if you watch it on Rakuten Viki, there’s an option for Japanese subs!

Zombieland Saga: This anime follows a high school girl whose dream is to become an idol, but is suddenly hit by a truck on her way to school. When she wakes up, she finds herself surrounded by zombies. Zombieland Saga is a comedy anime revolving around an all-zombie idol group. Comedy can be a bit hit or miss for me, but I wound up liking this one way more than I thought! Although I didn’t find the vocabulary used to be particularly difficult, I would recommend it for more upper level language learners due to the different ways Japanese is spoken in the show. There’s a character who speaks in old fashioned Japanese, a ヤンキー character, and a character who speaks like he’s got a mouthful of marbles (and a character that my brain decided to tune out every time she spoke. Honestly don’t know what’s up with that). Highly recommend subtitles for this one lol

📹 YouTube Channels:

スカートで旅するCHIEKO: One of the few channels I’ve found that has commentary over travel vlogs. I love the way she features trains alongside the actual destinations. Her videos are always super well put together as well.

ほんタメ: A more typical booktube type channel with two people discussing books together rather than just one talking to the camera. My Japanese tbr is never ending with this channel, it seems like there’s always something to catch anyone’s interest.

🎙️ Podcasts and Audio Dramas:

Station Idol Latch: I discovered this by stumbling across a poster for it in Tokyo Station and thinking that train station idols was the funniest concept in the world, but I’ll admit it. I’m hooked. This is an audio drama that follows 30 idols who all represent one of the train stations on Yamanote Line. The first season of the audio drama is available on YouTube and the second season is available anywhere podcasts are available, and is also coupled with Station Idol Latch Radio, a podcast hosted by Karino Shou, the voice actor for Minato Wataru (Hamamatsuchou Station). He’s hilarious and brings a great vibe to the podcast. Station Idol Latch also releases music, there’s an ongoing manga series, and there are also plans for a game, novels, and an anime series.

ボタニカルラジオ: This is a short podcast series about plants! Each episode is around 5-10 minutes long and is a super relaxing listen. The host has a great voice and the episodes are interesting as well.

🎤 Music:

火の鳥 - QUEEN BEE

風の便りをおしえて - Easycome

Creation - Pop Never Dies

Nick & Renee - YMB