#say no :/ or they would appear to be idiots and fails without even trying

[suchawrathfullamb]

reconstructing the poorly constructed female characters in nbc hannibal. by lamb. do yours, too, I'd love to read it.

alana bloom: the unspoken annoyance of this character is that the protagonists like her, yet the writing fails to show the audience why (probably because the author assumed her appearance was enough reason given she's the most conventionally attractive woman on the show and it's not a coincidence she was chosen as "the girlfriend"). so make her likable and interesting ffs. what would attract will graham and hannibal lecter? not an average person, for sure.

so let's have her more quiet, mysterious, intriguing, give her strange and vague lines, make her seem like she knows more than she lets on.

I'd introduce her as a someone who is interested in profiling Will and does consider it, without fluff about wanting to be his friend. "yes, I would profile him...but I don't want to. seems like that would cost me more than I'm willing to pay. so thanks, but no thanks."

make her weary of him, not with the pathetic savior complex. it's the contradiction again...she's supposed to be smart, but the writing fails her, making her look stupid and clueless. so make her fucking smart. make her attracted to will but aware that there's something boiling beneath the surface. "you're hot but you freak me the fuck out."

some weird murderer of the week is being analyzed and she says "yeah I know all about that", hinting at her mysterious life and past. maybe she had a psycho for a father, maybe she was married to some crazy person.

make her useful to abigail, not the generic psychologist the poor girl could never truly open up to. "you only know love through the cold steel of a knife. be careful what abuse you confuse with care." make her a little bit more realistic? what sabe woman wouldn't question a middle aged man's fixation on adopting a 19 year old? idgaf if he was your fucking mentor or whatever girl, as a psychiatrist that's absurd behavior that she never even once asked H what was up or warned Abigail to be less open. "I know him, but he's a man and you are a girl, and that's honestly a bit inappropriate so please think about your choices." give the girl an actual option. "you don't need to spend the night at a man's house, a man you barely know, stay with me if you hate the hospital so much". cause like...why bother crying about her death on the car if you didn't try to help?

when she comes to will, make her less hesitant. have her own her attraction. "I'm gonna have sex with you but I can't date you". he would literally be like yes girl, ideal, thanks lol. why can't she fuck the guy she is attracted to without all this fluff? give her more emotional agency and autonomy. she could fuck him without it meaning anything, ffs she's a grown ass woman.

maybe he gets weird during sex and she's like damn I'm kinda into it. make her self aware (as a fucking psychiatrist) of her own crap. make her turned on by it, willing to explore it with agenct!! because they do that in canon but make her look like a clueless idiot which is contradictory.

also. her being "the female character who loses her emotional control" is so annoying and boring. she doesn't need to yell to showcase emotional reaction and sensitivity. "you are all so selfish and self centered you don't care about anything other than personal victory". call them out.

when will goes to prison, drop the savior complex ffs. "i knew there was something going on with him but fuck why am I even more attracted now that it's gotten worse?" make her fucking face her own fucked up patterns, they're supposed to like her for a reason right?

also. she should've suggested a threesome lol (an actual, intentional one). oh come on, she should've. stop playing the naive woman.

when she decided to date hannibal she should've at least been like. maybe if I get closer I can actually gather evidence to decide what I believe. maybe I'm smart enough to know not to trust men. maybe I have basic instincts and know that I should always keep my eyes open. maybe there's a reason this mf fits the profile.

and my god, if the point was to say "hannibal's soo good he manipulated even this smart woman", it failed dramatically because the writing does not depict her as smart. quite the opposite.

so make her weary, make her suspicious, make her follow him, snoop around his house, ask pertinent questions, have the idea of learning how to shoot on her own. if she's that smart.

and when all hell breaks loose make her smart enough to not go to his goddamn house alone??? or make her angry at least, give us a good fucking reason to get her there by herself. a moment of realization setting in and anger boiling up and she thinks of abigail, and she goes because fuck everything and everyone.

then idk man, make her actually attracted and interested in margot lol.

tagging moots in case they want to rant/hop in/get creative.

@charleemoon @patchouii @honeygrahambitch and whoever wants to.

[deadrlngers]

i love making viotash compete in self-made challenges they are in turn terrible at. violante is a legend at fencing, gortash can't stick in the right position. gortash could bullseye an apple with a crossbow at meters and meters of distance, violante needs to get her eyes checked. violante can play 3 different instruments, gortash is better at making the clicking of machinery sing than any lute or lyre. violante could be a poet, gortash a chronicler.

[laserbobcat]

A WIP i'll never finish, i tried! I started this before march and will never finish it properly. I'm glad I had the energy to at least clean the last panels enough. I was trying a new style/process and it doesn't stick. Anyway, I'll just tell the rest of the story since I (probably) won't draw it, and maybe some of you like to read:

Nari turns into a god again, to his surprise. Turns out it's because the Lamb fucked up a new age reversing ritual they're trying out, and turned themselves into a baby. Too weak of a vessel, so the crown had to jump ships back to him. Narinder enjoys this IMMENSELY. Makes a dramatic evil laugh and give some kind of speech about how the Lamb is stupid and he's the boss now. He tells Aym and Baal to babysit the Lamb until they're old enough to be trained like they both were and "Maybe this time around they will learn obedience" and exits- also dramatically. The cultists start to panic, what the hell is that giant god, what do you mean it's Narinder are you kidding me? The tsundere Lamb's friend? The grumpy fisherman? Oh no what are we gonna do without the Lamb etc etc... Until Leshy laughs out loud and says "Just ignore him and wait a day or two, he's gonna get tired of bossing people around and miss his precious Lamb. He'll find a solution." Aym deadpan says five, Leshy says five days seems too long he'll cave in sooner than that, but Baal says "No we mean five minutes." And BAM the temple's door open again and Narinder is here yelling MORTALS I need you to remember EXACTLY the words they made you chant, I need it to reverse the ritual!

He quickly realized that this Lamb will not be HIS Lamb, HIS lamb is gone for good if he doesn't cook some good magic real quick. And that's the start of a period of time where Nari has to bust his ass trying to undo the Lamb's failed magic. I had bunch of stuff in mind, including: -Lambie being the worst and most insufferable baby ever. No one sleeps on their watch, and no one gets to be distracted for a second otherwise they start eating rocks. their yell is the loudest noise ever heard. The goat is a joke next to them. Everyone has the tired parent trait now. -Narinder smashing people to death when they're annoying and distracting him from his research. He adds their name to "the resurrection list" for the Lamb to deal with later. The followers somehow get used to it. -Morgan trying his best to keep Leshy away from his irritated brother, despite his intense need to annoy him at the worst time possible. -Narinder yelling "Fetch me my thinking Lamb!" and then squishing the baby between two fingers like a squeaky toy to help him focus (the baby enjoys that) -Saleos and Irene forcing a huge ass exhausted and irritable 19 feet god to take a rest, maybe go fishing to get some air. -Narinder accidentally hitting his head on the door frame of the temple. A lot. -Narinder reluctantly having to officiate the important rituals "I don't care about your damn crops but let's get this over with- NO we're not having an exhibitionist dance go back to work!" -Thena having to read most of the Lamb's writing for him because they write in cursive that is so pretty it's unreadable -Thena making him realize how much work the Lamb is doing everyday. Narinder keeps in mind that he will have to make him rest later. The end would be Narinder finally managing to reverse the ritual, and a butt naked, befuddled adult Lamb appearing on the floor of the temple. Narinder takes the crown off of his head and throws it at their face, and yells at them while changing back into his mortal form and stomping out of the temple: "You IDIOT baby god trying to CREATE new magics when you're not even able to master the old ones completely I CAN'T BELIEVE you would try something so stupid do you even realize how much of a pain in the ass it was to understand your weird logic and clean your mess I SWEAR if you ever do something like that I'll let you rot in whatever pit you dig for yourself AND DON'T YOU DARE SAY ANYTHING ABOUT THE RESURRECTION LIST-" And slams the door on his way out, leaving the lamb astounded.

Cut to Narinder getting back to his house in his tree, and flopping on his bed, exhausted. He massages his arms, visibly relieved to have them back to normal, without the pain. He sighs with a little smile, stretches, curls into a ball and falls asleep.

That's how the lamb finds him later when they carefully come to talk to him after hearing about all of what happened. Except the black cat loaf on the bed changed into a baby.

Rinse and repeat.

[demon-country]

The fact that I have already seen a good number of people complaining about how mean Stolas was supposedly being to Blitz in his song and thinking that he legitimately believes that Bliz is a wretched little worm that he owns is just. Utterly baffling. I'm genuinely unsure how anyone could miss the fact that it was an act. It was all a ruse he threw together on the fly in an effort to protect Blitz, wherein he pretended to be a big, bad, masterclass manipulator who was just using Blitz as his pawn.

For anyone who doubts it, here's the truth straight from the song writer's mouth:

This is literally the same exact ploy he pulled in Truth Seekers. He came in at the last minute and put on a big show to convince the people threatening Blitz and the rest of I.M.P that he was a big, scary demon who was so much more powerful than them (which he is) and practically owned them as his minions used to carry out his evil deeds (which he doesn't).

Though, perhaps I shouldn't be too surprised, since pretty much everyone I've seen talk about that scene fails to realize that that and his "who dares threaten my impish little plaything?" and "what's the matter, demon hunter? Never seen a real demon before?" comments were nothing but an act and he didn't actually believe any of it, too.

In Mastermind, he was trying to make sure that all of the blame would be put on himself, so that, as shown above, they would give Blitz the same treatment the others got when Blitz claimed they had nothing to do with it and were just following his orders.

In Truth Seekers, he was trying to intimidate the humans and make them so scared he wouldn't need to resort to violence to stop them. Why else would he put on that whole horror movie display and announce himself and his relationship with Blitz at all, if his entire goal was anything other than to incapacitate them with fear? If all he wanted was to get I.M.P out, he could have quickly and easily killed them without saying a word. Calling Blitz his plaything and saying that he was a real demon served to a) establish that he was the kind of person who had playthings, because that's the kind of cruel, domineering creature that most humans expect demons to be, and b) further intimidate them by implying that he was exponentially more powerful than the demons who just decimated their whole entire team.

He didn't mean any of it either time (except for when he called Blitz an idiot, maybe); those weren't things he actually believed. Why would he legitimately think of Blitz as his plaything and someone he owns when in both cases it was far enough in the timeline that he was already in love with Blitz and wanted a real, genuine romantic relationship with him and not just the fleeting taste of one he got while restrained by the full moon deal?

Those were classist/racist things to say, of course, and that was the point. That was language he deliberately used because it fit the persona he was using to appear villainous. Where he went wrong the first time and how his actual internalized racism came into play was in how he didn't for even one single second think about how those statements would look to the members of I.M.P, because he'd never once had to think about the fact they must get those kinds of demeaning comments all the time and had no way of knowing that he was faking. Calling them "little creatures" while he was scolding them probably wasn't part of the act though, and he didn't realize that it was classist/racist to say those things at all, regardless of intent, so he never apologized or reassured them that he didn't actually believe Blitz was his plaything or that they weren't real demons.

But with the power of hindsight and a more omniscient view of the characters that we get later on, it's so clear to see that all of these comments were only said as part of his theatrical portrayals of a villain, rather than things he truly believes, because he doesn't talk like that after Ozzie's when he realized just how much he had unintentionally been hurting Blitz. Don't fall for his ruse, guys, especially not when it's as blatantly obvious as it was in Mastermind.

[itoshiierae]

HIII IM BACK I hope you’re doing really well because you definitely deserve it and more! I was thinking about Rin x reader but like as academic rivals into lovers would be super cute!! I know it sounds super cliché but If you ever have time to maybe write something for this it would be so cute!! Thank you smm and have a great day 😚😚

- (ur biggest fan) 🪷

THIS WASN’T PART OF THE SYLLABUS ༄°ˎˊ˗⋆✩📝

ᡣ𐭩 ft: rin itoshi x f!reader ( academic rivals to lovers )

ᡣ𐭩 notes: hiii there 🪷 anon!!! i really hope you’ve been well too 🥹🩷 and omg academic rivals to lovers is literally peak delicious tension HAHAH like why are we solving math problems while secretly falling in love!!??? anywayyy, i’m sorry this took me awhile but i hope you enjoy this mini one-shot <33

ᡣ𐭩 cw: “enemies”-to-lovers, library tension, slow burn confession, high-school setting, first kiss, hand holding (yes it’s that intense), soft!rin but still sharp, mutual pining, competitive idiots in love, subtle angst, emotional tension thick enough to choke on, light banter

You've never hated anyone the way you hate Rin Itoshi.

Not in any real, visceral way, of course. Just in the way that makes your blood boil every time his name appears one line above yours on the rankings board. Just in the way that has you chewing on your pen in frustration when he hands in his paper before you again with that same unreadable expression, like he's already calculated your defeat before you even sat down. Just in the way that makes you scan every room for him, even when you swear you're not thinking about him.

And he? He's worse.

Because he never gloats. Never smirks. He just watches you with that same cold, heavy gaze that sees straight through you. The way you try to outpace him. The glances you think are subtle. And no matter how hard you deny it, he’s already pieced it together: he’s the one you refuse to fall behind for.

But tonight isn't about winning. It's the first time he's ever asked to study together. You only said yes to prove to him that you could be civil — that you weren't obsessed with him, especially not in the way everyone teased you for.

You simply just wanted to prove to everyone that you were capable of coexisting with Rin Itoshi; without combusting.

And now? It's past 9pm. The library's nearly empty. The overhead lights are dimmer than usual, buzzing faintly like they're tired too. Your elbows rest against the cool tabletop, textbooks spread out between you, notes scrawled in too many different colours.

"You're making that face again," he says, not even looking up.

Your head snaps toward him.

"…What face?"

He turns a page in his notebook, still expressionless. "The one you make when you're about to cry because I finished question eight before you."

You let out a quiet scoff — more embarrassed than annoyed, and shove his arm. "…. I am not."

He finally looks at you. And for the first time, his expression changes — the corners of his mouth twitch into something gentler, something real. It isn’t a smirk or a mockery, it’s something softer than you know what to do with.

You immediately freeze, because he’s never looked at you like this — not as a rival, not as competition to outscore, but as someone he’s been trying not to want, but failing miserably.

“By the way, Rin…. I’ll be honest, I actually used to hate you,” you blurt out, voice quieter than you mean it to be.

He leans back in his chair, legs stretching out beneath the table until his ankle bumps against yours and instead of pulling away, he leaves it there like he wants you to feel it.

“I never…,” he says.

There’s a pause before you look up, gaze cautious — wary, but laced with curiosity, like you’re bracing for the weight of whatever he’s about to say.

“….I never once hated you,” he continues, slower now. “You just made me care about you… And I don’t know why but that genuinely pisses me off…”

You don’t know if the ache blooming in your chest is from fear, or relief, or maybe both. Because the way he’s looking at you right now… it isn’t like you’re a name he needs to outrun anymore, but someone he’s finally willing to fall behind for. And then, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, his hand slides forward, fingers ghosting over yours like a vow neither of you are ready to say aloud.

“… W-wait… Rin,” you whisper, throat tight.

He squeezes your hand once like he’s grounding himself in the moment. Almost as if he needs you to feel it, to understand that this isn’t a game. It’s him choosing softness in a world he rarely allows it. It’s quiet but it says everything he won’t yet put into words and then —

“Y’know… you still make me want to win,” he says, voice low and steady. “But it’s not about topping a scoreboard anymore, not when all I really want is you…”

His thumb grazes the back of your hand; a simple touch, yet it sends a quiet jolt down your spine. His eyes, usually sharp and unreadable, have softened at the edges, like they’re letting you in for the first time.

“I want you,” he says again, quieter this time.

And somehow — despite the rivalry, the history, the weeks of tension drawn tight between glances, you realize you might want him too. Not in the fleeting, competitive way you once thought. Not as a challenge to conquer or a name to outrun. But in this very moment, with your fingers brushing against his and his words still clinging to the air like something sacred, you feel it:

The quiet truth that maybe, just maybe, you’ve both been holding back the same feelings all along.

The weight of it settles slowly. The unspoken meaning in his eyes, the soft confession still clinging to the air. It’s so unlike him, so startlingly out of character, that you don’t know what to do with it. You glance down at your joined hands, barely intertwined, and you could swear your pulse is louder than the ticking clock overhead.

“…Why now?” you whisper, voice soft, afraid to shatter the moment.

Rin swallows, his jaw tightening like he’s holding back something he doesn’t know how to name. And then, still holding your hand like it’s the only thing tethering him to this moment — he leans in, slow and deliberate, each inch a silent question, each breath asking if he’s allowed to get closer.

But you don’t move, not even when your pulse is sprinting beneath your skin, not even when your lips are only inches away from his, almost as if you’ve already decided to let him in. He pauses, just for a moment, eyes searching yours for any flicker of doubt. But when he finds none, he tilts his head and immediately closes the distance between you without hesitation.

For a second, it barely felt real — his lips on yours, your first kiss, and somehow, it was with him. This kiss is quiet — like a truth neither of you have dared to speak aloud. It unfolds slowly, tentative at first, then deeper, steadier as if Rin is tracing a moment he’s already replayed in his mind a hundred times. He kisses you like he’s slowly memorizing it piece by piece: the hitch in your breath, the flutter of your lashes, the way your fingers tremble when his thumb brushes gently along your jaw. It’s deliberate, unhurried — not rushed or chaotic. Infact there’s no need to because everything he’s ever needed is right here.

This isn’t a kiss meant to prove anything, this is a confession sealed between two people who’ve been circling the truth for far too long.

And when you finally pull back just enough to catch your breath — he leans in, resting his forehead gently against yours. His eyes don’t leave you and his voice is low, barely audible between the quiet thrum of your pulse and the silence around you.

“You still make me want to win,” he murmurs. “But this time… I’d rather win you instead.”

© itoshiierae 2025 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ please do not modify or repost my content onto any other platforms.

[hainge]

"In the book I didn't read, in the movie I didn't watch, in the photo I didn't appear in."​

Itoshi Rin x gn!gender

ft: angst. no happy ending. toxic relation ship. one shot.

an: the title is based of this portuguese song called intervalo (its my first language btw 🦐)

The wind bit through the silence as if it carried blades. Frost clung to the dead grass beneath your feet, but Rin couldn’t feel any of it, not the cold, not the sting. Not when you looked at him like that.

That expression.

Like Sae that night.

Cold. Detached. Like something inside you had already decided to leave.

“I gave you everything,” you snapped, voice cutting clean through the thick quiet. “I tried so hard to reach you, to understand you. But you don’t even try, Rin. You don’t fucking care until I say I’m done.”

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. His throat tightened. His hands were trembling, but he didn’t even notice. He only saw your eyes, dull, tired. Familiar. Exactly like Sae’s when he said he didn’t want to share their dream anymore.

You kept going, not letting him retreat. “I begged for your attention in the little ways. I let things slide, told myself it was just your way, that you weren’t used to this, to love. But Rin, this isn’t love.”

He wanted to say it was. He wanted to say he did care. But his mouth wouldn’t move. The words weren’t there.

You stepped forward, and Rin flinched without meaning to. Like you were about to say the thing that would finally break him. You did.

“I was patient. I was present. I was loyal to a man who couldn’t even look me in the eyes and tell me he needed me. You made me feel disposable , like I was a stand-in for something you couldn’t fix in yourself.”

You were crying now, but not from sadness. From exhaustion. Your voice didn’t shake. Your shoulders didn’t hunch.

You weren’t pleading.

You were done. “I worked every day to understand you, and you let me burn myself out trying to be enough. You just stood there. Like you are now. And I can’t keep loving someone who refuses to show up.”

Rin couldn’t breathe. It felt like his chest was collapsing, but he didn’t move. He watched the space between you widen, like the last crack in a sheet of glass just before it shatters.

You turned, not even sparing a final glance. And that hit worse than if you had screamed.

Rin’s heart pounded in his chest as he saw you walk away. Every instinct screamed for him to stop you, to do something, anything to fix this. But when you turned your back on him, it felt like the world had already made the decision. Like you had already made the decision.

Before you could take another step, he reached for your hand.

The touch was almost desperate, fingers trembling, voice shaking with the weight of things he’d kept buried. “Wait… please.”

You froze but didn’t turn around.

“I- I know I fucked up. I’m…I’m an idiot. I know that. I know I pushed you too far, and I know I never gave you enough, not the way you deserved.”

He took a shaky breath, trying to hold onto something that felt like control. “I built these walls…I thought they’d protect me. But I pushed you away instead. And I’m not asking you to forgive me. I’m not asking you to stay just for the hell of it.”

His voice cracked on the last sentence. He hated how weak he sounded, but it didn’t matter. The words were slipping out like sand through his fingers. “I just…I just wanted to be enough for you. And I know now I failed. But I’m not asking for a second chance because I deserve one. I’m asking because I can’t live with myself like this.”

His fingers tightened around yours, pulling you gently, trying to bridge the distance you’d created. The space between you felt like miles now.

But when you turned to face him, there was no softness in your eyes. No compassion. Just the same cold mask.

“I listened,” you said quietly, your tone flat, but with a bitterness he didn’t know you had. “I listened to everything. I heard you. And maybe that’s why it’s worse. You know what hurts the most, Rin?”

His breath hitched. He couldn’t speak, not with the way you looked at him. So cold, so tired.

“It’s that I cared. I really did. I stayed so long, holding on to a version of you that you don’t even want to be anymore. I listened to your excuses, your words, your apologies…and none of it mattered."

Your gaze dropped to his hand, still clutching yours like a lifeline. The disgust in your voice made his stomach twist. “You never wanted to change for us. You just wanted me to keep waiting. And I’m done. I’m tired, Rin."

The silence that followed was deafening. Rin's hand fell away, like a string finally severed from the thing he’d been holding on to.

“You changed because of Sae,” you said coldly, voice low, but the venom in it was clear. “Because you were too scared of being nothing in his shadow. You changed for yourself, for soccer, for your own damn pride. But not for me. Never for me. You only changed for your ego.”

He opened his mouth, but no words came out. He couldn’t speak against the truth that burned in your words.

“I was just the relief,” you continued, voice steady, but the anger was there, raw and unfiltered. “I was the distraction. When the game got too hard, when your world started falling apart, you’d come running to me, because I made it easier for you to breathe. But I wasn’t the one you were fighting for. It was never about me.”

You took a step back, away from his touch, and the finality of it felt like the last thread between you snapping. “You used me. And I let you. Because I thought I could change things. I thought maybe… maybe you’d see me the way I saw you. But I was just another thing you needed to hold onto, a crutch for your own damn insecurities.”

Rin’s head spun. “That’s not true…” he whispered, but it was weak. Pathetic.

“Don’t,” you snapped, voice low and tight. “Don’t lie to me. I watched you. I watched as you shut me out more and more, as you pushed me aside for soccer, for your stupid rivalry with your brother and Isagi. I stayed, hoping you'd come back to me, hoping you'd notice me. But you didn’t. You just wanted someone to fill the empty spaces, someone to make you feel better, and I let you.”

You shook your head, the exhaustion in your voice now clear. “I can’t keep fighting for someone who doesn’t even care enough to fight for me.”

Rin opened his mouth again, but the words choked in his throat. He wasn’t even sure what he could say anymore. He didn’t deserve to fix this. Not now. Not after everything you’d just said.

You turned, your back to him once again, and this time Rin didn’t stop you.

“I tried,” you muttered under your breath, barely audible, but to Rin, it sounded like the weight of the world. “I really did. But you’re too selfish to see it.”

Rin stood motionless, his outstretched hand trembling in the biting cold, the weight of your words sinking into him like shards of ice. His throat tightened, the apology he longed to utter caught in the storm of his own guilt.

You turned back to face him, your eyes devoid of warmth, mirroring the same coldness Sae had once shown him. The resemblance was uncanny, and it struck Rin harder than any blow.

"And don't you dare," you began, your voice steady but laced with finality, "use me as the reason you play football."

Rin's breath hitched, his heart pounding in his chest. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words died on his lips.

"You think," you continued, your gaze unwavering, "that because you pushed me away, because you treated me like a crutch, that now you'll become the best? That I'll be your excuse for your failures and triumphs alike?"

Rin's eyes widened, a mix of shock and realization dawning upon him.

"You don't get it, do you?" you said softly, yet the weight of your words was crushing. "I won't be your scapegoat. I won't be the reason you think you can succeed. You need to face your own demons, not hide behind me."

Once you turned away, Rin collapsed to his knees. The world around him blurred as his breath became shallow and erratic. His chest tightened, each inhale feeling like he was suffocating. It was the same sensation he had felt that night with Sae, when he had told him he didn't want to share their dream anymore. The same overwhelming sense of helplessness and fear.​

His hands trembled uncontrollably, and his vision swam as if he were underwater. The ground beneath him felt distant, as if he were sinking into an abyss. His mind raced, but no coherent thoughts formed, just a cacophony of guilt, regret, and despair. It was as if his body had betrayed him, shutting down in the face of the emotional storm.​

He wanted to scream, to reach out, to undo the damage. But his voice was trapped, his body unresponsive. All he could do was sit there, paralyzed by the weight of his own failures.​

[palabraasinnecesarias]

"Aren't I lucky?" 752 words.

couldnt get them outta my head so naturally im back

Sharing a space had become the most normal thing about them, Akane had noticed. Everywhere she went, there he was. In the mornings, they’d seem to bump shoulders as they made her way down the stairs for breakfast if he wasn’t already eating. The walk to school required both, apparently. During lunch, if he was still hungry and didn’t have enough money to buy himself an extra bite at the cafeteria, it didn’t take long to find her and see if she’d be finishing whatever bento Kasumi made that day.  

Their walks home had been quite uneventful, she’d noticed, appreciating the peace of no bicycle bell ringing in a teasing menace nowadays. If they weren’t at the dojo, they’d be sharing the space of the family room; she enjoyed some evening television now and then, Nabiki typically having beat her to the remote and calling dibs. Tonight, the youngest tendo found herself with no older sister, yet couldn’t claim control of said remote.  

When taking her last step into the family room after remembering Nabiki would be out for the evening, she hadn’t considered that her fiancé was wanting to enjoy some cable entertainment.  

Ranma was laying on his side, a bag of rice cakes just at arm’s reach, laughing quietly by himself. Without much of a thought, she stepped further into the family room, stopping until reaching him and letting herself sit beside him. He glanced up at her momentarily, acknowledging her presence with a mumbled, “Hey, tomboy,” before returning his attention back towards the television.  

He laughed again, and she returned his greetings quietly. He was seemingly captivated by the purposeful funny obstacle course on television in which every competitor’s goal was to finish the race, failing miseribly, or rather comically, getting knocked out midway or just as they were beginning their race. And for obvious reasons, that seemed to bright up Ranma.  

And she had caught herself thinking, it was delightful, his laughter that is.  

“Look at this idiot, Akane,” he snorted, “he ain’t gon’ make it.”  

She glanced at the television, chuckling along with him for a moment before returning her attention back at the young boy having a grand time. She gingerly bit her lower lip, trying to withhold her own grinning smile, finding herself fawning at the way his laughter resonated within just them two.  

It tugged at her heartstrings, furrowing her eyebrows at the instant realization that she was probably appearing like a lovesick adolescent, even if she was; she didn’t seem to bother about such details. Instead, she allowed herself a moment, and listened to his laughed carefully. She wanted to memorize it, engrave into her brain the way the corner of his grin curled high.  

And just then, he looked up when it cut to commercials, lifting an eyebrow, suddenly making her become conscious as to how she must’ve appeared with her own stupefied expression. Still, it was hard to disperse of the corners of her lips, unable to hide how joyous she felt.  

“You ‘kay, Akane?” He began sitting up, adjusting himself to lean forward, his smile and laughter dismissed for a curious one. And he was suddenly too close, and she could take in the extra details of his face, such as the elongated length of his eyelashes blinking expectantly at her.  

“Yeah,” she replied with a bigger smile, creases forming around her eyes as she continued, “I was just enjoying your laugh.” And her own laughter erupted as she saw the shift of his eyebrows raise high, with a subtle hint of blush overtake his face, yet he stayed put.  

“Y-yeah?” He hadn’t known what to say to that, and she found his nervousness enduring, nodding timidly at him.  

“Yes,” she said.  

“Geez, Akane,” he breathed in, his voice hardly audible in an under breath, “saying things...like-like-”  

“Like I’d love to hear your laughter forever?” She teased childishly, giggling as such just as her hands reached to hold his cheeks and squeeze, her teeth showing as she wrinkled her nose, “Aren’t I lucky?”  

He didn’t say anything to that, but she could see the way his eyes soften as they looked at her, along with his eyebrows, pulling her in as she smiled more tenderly at him.  

“You’re such a... such a...”  

“Dork? Dweeb?” She laughed louder, releasing her hold on his face, not surprised when Ranma’s own hands instantly reached for hers to hold. His flustered face beamed brightly, and oh, god, how she loved him.  

“Yeah.” He replied.  

[sophiethewitch1]

In Death's Embrace Pt. 2

Jason Todd x Death!Reader

Part one!

Jason shoots up in bed, his hand stretched out. He’s sweating, drenched in his own panic in fear. His hand falls into his lap, still twitching. He doesn’t remember what he was dreaming about, doesn’t remember what he was trying to grasp.

He knows he failed. He knows it slipped through his fingers like sand. He doesn’t think there’s anything more tragic in the world. He doesn't know why.

“Once again, you amaze me. Breaking the rules of the universe, not once, but twice.”

His hand is wrapped around his gun before you even finish the sentence. It’s pointed between your eyes once you do. To your credit, whoever just broke into his apartment without triggering any of his alarms, you don’t even flinch. No, you just fold your hands behind your back and give him an odd look.

You tilt your head, eyes moving over the scars on his face and catching on the lock of white hair he sports. Then, your face breaks into a smile, and something in Jason’s heart jumps. There’s a knowing in your eyes that he doesn’t like. An understanding.

You see through him, somehow. He doesn’t like it. He’ll shoot you for the offence.

“Who are you? How did you get in here?” Jason demands, assessing you like you assess him. You don’t look like a combatant, in long dark flowing fabrics. Still, he knows not to underestimate someone based on their appearance.

That damned clown never looked like a threat. And now he was standing here, with someone who seemed just as crazy in his bedroom. Only someone that crazy would break into his home.

“Are you going to shoot me?” your words are teasing, eyes fond. Maybe you’re crazier, then. You don’t believe he’ll do it. He will.

He should have already. It’s base curiosity that holds his trigger finger. That’s what he thinks it is, at least.

“I might,” he finally says, “Again, who the fuck are you?”

“It’s interesting talking to you like this. You knew who I was straight away last time, but this time you turn your weapon to me,” you continue, ignoring his threat. A muscle jumps in his cheek, annoyed at your presence, at your blatant disregard for him.

“Last time?”

Your smile turns into a bright grin. He’s momentarily stunned by it.

“So, you really haven’t won just yet. That gives me a small measure of pride,” you say, walking over to the window with your hands still behind your back, “Maybe enough to spare you from my anger.”

You look over at him again. Purse your lips.

“Maybe not.”

“I think you forget who is holding the gun,” Jason reminds you, clicking his teeth at the way you just shrug.

You go quiet. No more teasing words or ominous warnings. Jason should shoot, shoot now. He’d hate the cleanup, hate the mess, hate all the effort, but it was necessary. You were dangerous. That much was obvious.

Instead, he opens his big dumb mouth and asks, “What do you want?”

You sigh, shaking your head. “Is it terrible I don’t know? Rules are rules after all, but this situation is… complicated. You’re not another Sisyphus, you don’t even want to be here.”

“You broke into my home and started threatening me. That doesn’t sound complicated,” Jason insists. This is such a fucking weird conversation. And Sisyphus? Jason had done his homework, he knew about the mythical man who cheated death. He thinks he’s actually quite a lot like Sisyphus.

He still doesn’t appreciate the comparison.

“Yes well, I don’t want to be here either, de-” your voice cuts off, eyes widen in surprise, and then narrow on him like he caused some great offence. Inside him, he feels his dead little heart wither even further at the sight. Like you being upset with him was one of the worst mistakes of his life.

Once again, you broke into his house. All he’d done was tell you to get lost. Oh, and maybe threaten to shoot you, but who cares about that. He soothes the momentary panic, insisting you obviously hadn’t.

Which is dumb. He’s being an idiot. Jason Todd is being an absolute moron right now, and he just needs to shoot you.

Instead of paying attention to the gun trained on you, you stare out his window, at the streets of Gotham’s Hill district below. The sun is rising, rays bursting through the fog. The people are just getting up with it. It’s one of the few times the city is anything close to quiet. Most are still sleeping, and so is crime.

Warm sunlight catches on your cheek, and again, something inside Jason cries out at the sight. It’s worrying.

“I think I want you dead, again,” you confess.

Jason’s breath whooshes out of his lips, and his gun arm twitches for a second. Well, fuck him, that’s certainly a statement. And again, why hadn’t he shot you?

He still doesn’t do it. He must be crazy, too.

“I’m being greedy. I always have been, of course. It’s what I am… But especially this time, I think I’m being too greedy,” you sound sad, your fingers trailing across the wooden window frame, “I think I shouldn’t be here, but it’s the ones like you who make it hard.”

You rub dust against your fingers, and Jason feels embarrassed for the state of his home. He realises a second later what a stupid thought that is, you broke in. He wonders how many times he’ll have to repeat it to remember it. He feels uncomfortable and off-kilter, and he knows it’s because of you.

He needs to get you out.

“I’ve always hated the special ones, you know. The smart ones. You’re too good at pulling me, manipulating me, tugging on my strings like a puppet. You make me human,” you turn back to him, crossing your arms and resting against the sill. You’re comfortable in his home, more so than he usually is. Calm, relaxed, like the world is at peace, and worries are something of the past.

He wonders what that must be like. Fucking delightful, he bets.

“Are you not human?”

You raise an eyebrow in response.

Shit. Ah, fuck it. His finger tightens, and the recoil jerks his arm. The silencer keeps the early apartment quiet. Quiet, if not for the sound of the bullet clattering to the ground.

You both glance down at the crumpled piece of metal sitting pathetically on the floor. You lean over, pick the piece up, and then lift it to your eye, watching that same sunlight reflecting the early morning in the steel. A small rainbow flitters across your skin. You close your fist, and you stroll over to Jason.

It takes him a moment to remember to be wary of you, and by that time, you already have his hand cradled between yours.

You place the remnants of the bullet in his scarred palm.

“I expect an apology for that later,” your voice is soft, sweet. Loving, even after he shot you in the chest. Not like it did anything. Your fingers curl around his, tracing every crack and crevice. You do it with concentration, with precision, like you were made just to touch him, to comfort him.

A memory, gone in a flash. He feels it’s loss like a toothache.

He swallows, “I’m sorry.”

You laugh, and the sun’s not outside, it’s in his bedroom and it’s smiling and it’s everything and it’s here in his grasp and he knows it’ll be okay again. It has to be okay again. You said it’d be okay, didn’t you? He can’t remember. His head’s swirling, spinning, falling right into you. Right back into you.

“Or now, that’s fine too,” you sound delighted. He’s glad.

You let go of him, and move back to the window, drawn by the view outside. Jason's hand clasp and unclasp. The street obviously fascinates you, your eyes flicking back and forth and tracking the movement of every soul outside. He wants your gaze back on him.

Jason clears his throat. You glance back at him, then pointedly, his right hand.

He can feel his face flush, embarrassingly. He’s still holding the gun. He turns the safety off and tucks it back under his pillow.

He clears his throat again. He wants something from you, expects it, really. But he can’t tell what it is. He thinks you know, though. That you’re withholding it, for some reason. He’s irrationally irritated at that. You said you were greedy, but nothing could compare to his greed.

Even if you wanted him dead. He was starting to put together the pieces, but he couldn’t seem to feel alarmed. No, it simply wasn’t necessary, with you here.

Still, it’s not quite enough. He wants more. He wants to know more. So he waits for you to speak again.

“I’ve thought about doing this so many times over the years. It would’ve been selfish, and more than that, outside of my duty. You’re not one of mine anymore. For a little while, at least.”

He wants to be. He wants to be yours. He wants it more than he can breathe. If he’s yours, maybe you can be his.

You glance to the side, thinking out loud, “But then you went and started remembering. I’ve worked very hard to make sure that’s impossible, you know. That the memories from my realm stay there.”

You turn a disapproving glance his way.

“Of course, far be it for me to get in the way of a Wayne and his decision to break the world. You lot do that far too much, give me too much work,” you mutter that last part, hand moving to your brow. Like you’re massaging away a headache. He should be doing that for you.

“But you did it. And you’re here. And now I am, too. And I have to go soon.”

You drift closer to him, and Jason’s breath catches. He’s still. He doesn’t make a single movement, scared he’ll scare you away. He realises that’s stupid. That you caught a bullet to the chest. That you’re stronger than anything he could imagine.

He still thinks he could startle you if he’s not careful. That you’re like the mist outside, incorporeal. But Jason can do anything if he puts his mind to it. He knows how to catch the wind, how to gather steam on the underside of glass, how to cup sand and water and feathers and everything that would ever want to be outside of his reach.

You’re out of his reach. He has to let you step into it.

You stop a foot away from him. He grinds his teeth, and again, you raise a brow at him. He doesn’t move, despite his muscles screaming at him too. You give him a nod and take another step closer. He still doesn’t move, and you give him a satisfied look.

“So, what should we do, Jason?”

“How do you know my name?”

“What? Did dying strip you of any brains?”

The banter is familiar. He doesn’t mean to ruin it.

“Do you have to leave?” again, a voice in his mind whispers. You look sad, again. Again, again, again. All of this is an again.

“Eventually. Sooner rather than later,” you sigh, “You can keep a secret, can’t you, Jason?”

“Not if you leave.”

It’s a bold move. You take a step back, and he winces. Back and forth, back and forth… Still, he doesn’t take the words back. He can’t, because it’s the truth, and now that you’re here, there’s no going back. He’ll do anything to keep you with him, and if you go too far for him to reach, he’ll follow you.

“I think that’s an unfair request,” you say, and he shakes his head.

“It’s fair. You don’t have to stay forever, just a while.” Now that, that is a lie. You seem to know it, too.

You look out the window again. Jason, after a moment's hesitation, moves over beside you. You don’t flee, your attention is on the people below. He opens the window for you, and you give him another smile. He collects them like the rare treasures they are. You lean out into the air, and he freaks, then realises you’d shrugged off a bullet. He stays close, vigilant, anyway.

“I’m curious, I have to admit. What’s this place like?” you ask, resting elbows on the wood. The streets are foggy, as they usually are in the morning. The Hill isn’t the nicest place, not the cleanest either, but you look at it like it’s heaven incarnate. He can see his neighbour down at the local grocer, the old woman who hoards cats seeing her grandson off to school, and one of his guys hanging out on the street, keeping the space safe.

Under his orders. The Hill wasn’t the nicest place, but he liked to keep it as nice as possible.

...Peaceful, he wanted the people here to have their peace. He was obsessed with it, really.

“It sucks.”

You laugh again, music to his ears, “Not the best advertising.”

“I take it back, it’s the best place on earth,” he replies, barely paying attention to his words. He’s seeing how close he can get to you. How many inches he can claim. His face is almost in your neck by the time you lean back, and he curses under his breath.

“It doesn’t need to be,” you say, pushing away from the sill and turning to wander around his room. You take in everything about the space. From the general mess, to the Jane Austen books crammed into his bookshelf, to the mask he’s left half-hazard on his bedstand.

You watch it all, just as fascinated with the world outside as the one inside. He wants to believe that means he’s special to you. And if it doesn’t, that just means he needs to work a little harder.

Finally, you turn to him. You take in every facet of him, once again. Your all-knowing gaze finds his hair again. You seem especially fascinated by that. You lift your hands, and he’s in them before he realises he’s moved.

You map his features with your hands, and he makes a little sound in the back of his throat. Ignoring that, you wipe the bags under his eyes. He feels his sanity slip away under your touch. You trace the scar on his chin, the one above his left brow. The stubble along his jaw. The bump in his nose. The edge of his lips. He wonders at the smirk you give when he groans. And finally, you come to that strand of hair.

You tug on it. A memory fizzles again, and to his frustration, he can’t quite grab it. Can’t quite take it, claim it. It’s not his, not yet.

You haven’t given him permission to remember. He wants it, he wants it, he needs it.

“I think I can stay, maybe. Just for a little, just a little. You want that, right?” your hands cup his face, and he knows, somehow, that you’ve done this a thousand times. And if this is the thousand-and-first time you’ve held him like this, he’s glad. To be back in your embrace is the sweetest pleasure. The greatest relief.

“Yes. Yes, yes… yes, I do,” he’s nodding, he’s begging, he’s pleading with you. Just for a moment more, just a second more. Just a little bit more, before you let him go again. He leans down and presses his forehead to you, sighing in your scent, the wheat reeds in the wind, the warm sun on skin.

He wonders what he has to do to make sure you never let go again. He wonders if you’ll let him do it.

You shake your head, giving him a rueful smile, “You really are too cute, darling.”

That nickname. The key to his heart, his mind. Every single barrier keeping him from you is gone, crumbled by your will. He is thankful you’ve given them back. He is thankful for every moment you ever had with him. And he’ll make a thousand more.

He presses his lips to yours, arms holding you close. When you melt into him, sigh into the kiss, he feels a euphoria he didn’t know could be true. He feels a relief he didn’t know even in his days under, even when you only held him.

He feels alive with it.

“Thank you for coming back,” he whispers against you, and he can feel that familiar, that damning smile spread.

“You left me. I had to hunt you down myself, Jason dear.”

Maybe he couldn’t have his peaceful death. But he had a loving one, and that was all he needed.

[sevinagreatergood]

Please, Lily fans that treat Snape like the Boogeyman, you just go fuck yourself. Honestly. Lily appears for what? Like a chapter or something and she:

- Watches her friend being bullied for 5 years.

- As a prefect abuses her authority to favor her Gryffindor friends

- As a prefect calls Snape ungrateful from being saved by a murder that one of his bullies orchestrated.

- Compares her Gryffindor friend their problem to her childhood friend his problem that he suffered from since year 1 as a prefect by saying "at least they don't use dark arts"

- Smiles at his sexual assault as a prefect. "As though" and "twitched" means there was still a grin of some sort for a split second. That Harry could recognize it from far means it was very obvious from close

- Left a victim to their abusors as a prefect

- Made friends with people that spoke ill of Snape and their friendship

- Uses those friends as a reason to bury a friendship

- Never bothered to apologize herself for leaving him there hanging with James that litterally asked next if he should remove the underwear next.

- Went to date his bully next a year later

I mean, if she didn't like to fight the marauders in a combat. She could've at least called the teacher. I mean, she's a prefect AND the brightest witch, let her do something, my god. She can't possibly go confront those idiots after knowing them for 5 years that they WONT listen to her, whilst fully aware her authority doesn't work on them, so she relies on luck that they will back off.

I know it's mysoginistic to say that her most useful part was popping out Harry, but please. By god, tell me something else that was so worthy of her that she did? Ending the war? Couldn't have been done without Snape. Be a good friend? Failed horribly at that. Get a good husband? Failed in that too. I mean, her character was written by a mysoginistic woman that hates basically everything outside the normal heterosexual Christian idea of a stability and family.

Lily was bound to fail as a justified character the more we progressed as a society anyway. Believe me when I say, nobody would even stomach Lily. She's just that girl that would drive you insane by giving small jabs at you, be that toxic positivity person in your life, befriend people that hate you and say that everyone deserves a chance.

She would NOT take your feelings into consideration at all, if you're not the same fierce personality as her. So all the introverts out there would be fucked and be treated like her carpet. People with common sense wouldn't even like her. Imagine talking to her about abusive household and child neglect and she would be there "Well, there are worse things in the world than your depression."

Or go "At least you're alive. I know some people who aren't."

She genuinely makes me think of such people and makes my skin crawl. She's toxic positivity. It may look nice and sweet but it does not. All it does is make you feel bad and invalidate your own emotions, trauma and process. So please Lily fan while simultaneously being a snater. Know that you would be swiped left by her if you are not useful to her in any way or have a hard life.

(Remus? Bro, the kid was trying to be as normal as possible and acted normal as possible. He didn't want to talk about his troubles at all, stomaching his secrets and whatnot. So obviously she wouldn't be confronted with "it's a hard knock life for us" theme out there. Aside the once a month occurrence that his friends looked after too, it WAS an easy person to deal with.)

She treated a friend of 7 years like a charity case. Who the fuck do you think you are then? Not a better friend, that's for sure. If your life was tough, miserable and exhausting. You better not lean on her. Because she wants the friends who are fun, extrovert, not that troubled by life, like herself.

She had an amazing life. Clearly well fed and wealthy enough for her sister to look down on Snape's poverty (which Lily didn't). Obviously, she couldn't handle a miserable wreck of a human being by her side whose life existed of neglect and abuse. That's your Lily. That's canon Lily. A girl incapable of understanding deep rooted emotions, unwilling to hear you out even, then dump you when things get too tough or heated.

Because she herself was a privileged girl that got everything (just like her crappy dead husband, James) so her emotion range is that of a rock. It's time for people to wake up from that disgusting Lily slumber they have. Actually, many of the marauders fans should wake up.

You would not be part of their friendship and probably would be their next chew toy. Some maraudersfans at least accept that their characters are trashy. But Lily fans? It's like "if you dare touch her, etc" bro, she's horrible.

Many might argue that she was not as horrible as James and what not. But to me she was. She was worse than James. Because she was the actual one and only friend of Snape. The girl that could basically represent his emotions. And she abused it. You would be an imbecile if you didn't notice how much Snape is dependent on you.

She didn't let him down slowly and softly. But basically ripped his heart out and kicked him to the curb. Who the fuck even breaks up a friendship of 7 years like "Uhm, well you know, right? My friends don't like you so I don't either and my friend did keep telling me about how much they hate you but I was protecting you from them you know? Now I can't. Otherwise I look like a loser."

That's how the conversation sounded to me.

[s1llyalabaster]

Haii! Can i request ratio x gn!Reader who is always clingy and clings to ratio everywhere they gotta whether it's holding his arms, or his fingers, or anything, even when they sleep reader always clings to him, ratio can't event get out of the bed ini the morning cuz how tight their grip is. Idk man just a though at 2am lol

WAAAAGH this is such a cute idea!!! I'm so sorry that I wasn't able to pump this out faster and earlier but here it is anon!! (Gonna be doing bullet point for this because I can't really think of how to put multiple scenarios into one whole fic)

Like Dust on an Alabaster Head - Veritas Ratio

Just like what the title says, where reader clings to Ratio like a speck of dust on his alabaster head. ~300 words , SFW

◘ I can imagine you, Ratio, and other researchers sat at a meeting where you're supposed to concentrate and take notes etc, but *THE* Doctor just somehow ends up clenching his jaw in slight embarrassment when you two link fingers or even nudge your foot at his.

◘ ANON YOUR IDEA OF THE BED SCENE IS SO CUTE AS WELL LIKE?!?!?! Imagine Ratio, having a seminar to attend in the morning, using every atom in his body to slowly slip out of your (quite strong) grip. But he ultimately fails as your body somehow works like a bear trap, detecting the movement of that of Vertias'.

◘ Another scenario would be when you two have an off-day, you'd just be always attaching your fingers to his body when you two go on a walk, or spend some time in the library. Despite his half-assed remarks to keep your hands off him, from his body language itself, it seems that he doesn't think it's as unbearable as he says it is.

◘ Your clinginess even shows in text! Dr. Ratio doesn't really text much, even with his accquaintannces, let alone his coworkers. So when he leaves his phone on his work desk without care, his coworkers are shocked to see him reply to your flirty messages or sticker spamming on the dot, not even seconds sparing. You know how phones can have custom "do not disturb" modes? He probably has notifications on only for you 24/7 and ignores everyone else's.

◘ Currently obsessed over domestic malewife! Ratio SO what if you wrap your arms around Ratio when he's cooking or doing chores, and he's trying to pry them off to avoid any danger hazards but you're just clinging on like an octopus or a koala..... GOT ME SO SOFT

◘ Your clinginess would definitely grow TENFOLD when you're tired and you'd be asking him to piggyback carry you around the house until you're satisfied (your last ounce of awakeness decides against doing so in public).

◘ I have a feeling Dr. Ratio would be the "appears touch repulsed but is actually touched starved" type, so sometimes he does really appreciate your clinginess and you taking the initiative to touch him, hug him, kiss him and whatnot. It'll take some time for him to work up the courage, or in his words "stoop so low as to ask for touch like an idiot", to ask for kisses etc.

[urauntiefaye]

Yandere!Yuma Profile🔞🕊️🔪 

WC: 867

TW: Yandere!Yuma, Toxic relationship, mentions of extreme physical violence, extreme(?) case of emotional and mental manipulation, toxic boundaries, usage of sex for manipulation, isolation of reader, cussing by me, gaslight/manipulated/peer pressured noncon sex, not proof read fully, that should be all let me know if there’s anything I missed. 

A/N: Just a heads up that this is completely fiction, and in no way shape or form actually represents how Yuma is in real life. It is not real life, things written in this are NOT real and are used solely for the headcanon and the FANfiction. I cannot stress this enough, if you feel uncomfortable with this kind of content simply just scroll away and do not click continue to read. This is essentially a "dead dove" content. So again if you do not feel comfortable do NOT proceed and scroll away.

Dangerous, Yuma is indeed a dangerous Yandere 

However, I don’t think he will show them until way later in the relationship where you’re essentially trapped with him. 

He’ll act like the perfect boyfriend, but in an interesting way. 

I’m a firm believer than yandere Yuma is an A tier list manipulator 

He covers his toxicity with sugar and honey. 

For example, boundaries. 

Now as well all (hopefully) know, boundaries are essential in any kind of relationship you have with someone. And he sets them, saying “oh, I’m just not comfortable with this, they’re my boundaries” and said boundaries would be- No talking to other men, doesn’t matter if it’s your coworker or family, if it is your family he HAS to be present with it. Not wearing revealing clothing out in public, you can not be outside without him or any later than 4 pm, if you have work and have to work later than 4 then you better get home as soon as it’s over, if you fail to do so then you will have to quit your job. 

But that’s okay right? Since their you know..boundaries��

However if you try to set any he will make you seem like an idiot and appear to be an insecure person who has trust issues. 

Now he will never actually cheat on you, but in a way to “keep you in your place” he will actively flirt with other girls and will make it known to you that you should be grateful he chose you because look at all the other girls who willingly throw themselves at him. 

With the violence I don’t think he will get violent towards you until you're in a place of your relationship that you can’t leave because you are now solely dependent on him. And I mean the point where your friends and family no longer are in contact with you, you have no job, and live with him, along with no license or car of your own. 

He needs to know that you are completely dependent on him for every need and want you have.

And only then will he start showing his true violent toxic nature. 

He won’t punch or kick you, but he won’t hesitate to slap you, grab you by your neck, or throw things at you. Expect to have bruises on your body. 

He also uses sex for a variety of reasons. He’s studied you in every single way he knows exactly what you do and don’t like. If he needs a little extra help in manipulating and convincing you he will give you the most mind blowing night of your life. 

But if he needs to put you in your place because you spoke out or broke one of his “boundaries” he will use sex to make it click in your tiny little dumb brain that you need him, and that he is the sole reason why you’re even alive. Will gaslight you and forcefully persuade you into sex. 

Sex being mention, he kind of has a set schedule for when you two fuck. The kind of guy that gets pissed if you reject him because he sees it as you no longer loving him, or the possibility that there’s another in your life. Will make you feel like shit until you give in. 

That being said, there are reasons for his madness. 

Is he doing most of this because he is a borderline sadist and gets off seeing the sheer fear in your eyes? Yes, of course. But it’s not the only reason. 

Yandere Yuma has intense issues with abandonment, he needs to feel loved and needs reassurance that you won’t leave him. He won’t ever tell you this, and he won’t ever actually show this to you. 

On the outside it just appears that Yuma gets off being controlling and abusive towards you, but on the inside he is just so fucking terrified that another person it going to abandon him, he feels that he needs to take these extreme cautions to keep you close. 

And unfortunately because of this extreme fear and embedded anxiety he tends to lash out. 

Screaming, throwing things, making sure you have sex every morning and day. ANYTHING to keep you near him. 

Because of this it’s actually a reason why you two would never have children of your own. Deep down he knows his thoughts are fucked up, but he can’t stand the jealously that rises up at even the meer thought of sharing you with another living being. 

Children and Animals are off the table. 

You want to read books and watch t.v? He will monitor what it is and your emotions. If he gets even the slightest amount of feeling that you’re getting too emotionally attached or are taking your attention off of him. He will go about ways of taking that form of media from you. 

He needs to make sure you are thinking of him 24/7. 

He thinks of you every single second of the day. 

Pretty much Yandere Yuma needs to make sure your world is completely consumed and absorbed around him, just like his world revolves completely around you. 

[worfs-glorious-hair]

What Astarion had to say at Tav‘s and Gale‘s wedding…✨

Follow-up of this post about the utter BS that is the fact that the game heavily implies that Gale and Tav married without the tadpole crew. There’s just no way!

Gale x Druid!Tav (Unnamed, no pronouns); SFW; 1,9k words

The Wedding Speech

“You know it’s funny, a surprising majority of you people gathered here only know Tav as their hero in shining armor, who defeated every obstacle in their way, slain each and every one of your foes that you could not and rescued every stuck kitten from a tree that you asked them to.

You got a competent druid, fighting for the balance of life and nature and doing good for the sake of it and not for rewards, who was kind, generous and oh so selfless, you name it.

And the competent and patient druid had a wizard by their side, wherever they went, whenever you met them was he there, always suspiciously close to Tav — ‚the mighty wizard of Waterdeep’ who would still try to appear as the pompous archmage he once was, all powerful, very much full of himself and overall very wizard-y, all while he failed miserably at that as long as Tav was in any proximity to him.

Gale could try to pretend to be the stern academic as much as he liked, it could honestly be very entertaining, when it was not excruciatingly painful to watch, as if he would not incinerate anything at any given moment that dared to threaten Tav.

Which included me, once, to be honest, but this is not the matter of today.

The matter of today is that I know these two, who you call ‘heroes’, like you will never know them: I know them as pining idiots!

You should have seen them back during our days on the road what they were like when we made camp in the evenings after doing all of these good deeds and surviving all the fighting, when Tav’s diplomacy and reason had turned out to be eventually insufficient despite their noble and great efforts.

Our usual evening in camp went like that: We would find a spot to settle in, get rid of our armors and would try to find some peace of mind, eat whatever we could get our hands at for dinner and get some rest before the next day, wondering which new horrors would await us then. And if we were lucky we had found some wine on the road that did not taste like the cheapest vinegar. This is, at least, what it was like for us.

Now let me tell you what it was like for these two, the pining, love sick puppies whose company we got instead of the bubbly, confident druid and the powerful, effective wizard you lot had the privilege to experience.

Imagine the scene in our camps, how they danced around each other…

Tav would follow Gale around, offer him nearly every magical item we had ever found, no matter it’s worth, was practically glued to his side, offered to get water with him for our dinner and would stare at him with big, sparkling eyes when he just did – anything really. Be it as mundane for him as reading a book, cooking in the evenings or preparing and practicing new spells.

But Gale, poor oblivious and equally pining Gale, managed to miss all of it. Or most of it. He definitely missed what it meant.

His eyes were as equally big and sparkly as Tav’s whenever he looked at them.

He would ask them for their opinion on their favourite herbs and spices in our meals, which reminds me, Tav, how much peppermint and salt does one soup truly need?

He would go out of his way to cast mage hand every morning to help Tav put on their armor, would teach them shocking grasp and would carry ridiculous amounts of books around which all somehow were about druidic magic, druidic customs and probably covered questions like ‘what does it mean when my druid ‘friend’ and hero cuddles with me in their wolf shape by the fire under the stars and let me warm my hands and feet in their fur when they don’t do that with our fellow travelling companions?’

I am surprised that he managed to cook anything at that point and under these circumstances, which just proves my point further that this man is more than a decent chef.

I would trust no one more to create an actual edible meal out of old bread, some fish and some dried up cheese than Gale.

And then, at some point of our journey, did he began to ask us all very ‘hypothetical’ and poorly disguised questions about what his next best steps should be in pursuit of a ‘theoretical’ romance.

A romance that was as ‘theoretical’ as casting polymorph on a spectator and having it actually turn into a sheep.

Great move, by the way, Tav! Always an impressive spectacle when you do that.

Oh, and you certainly did not want to be near them when they flirted. And somehow they thought that the best place to do that was amidst the godsforsaken shadow-cursed lands!

It came to a point on which I wanted to break the curse even more than Halsin or Tav wanted it gone just so that we would not be attacked by the lurking shadows any longer, so that therefore we did not had to fight anymore, so that Tav and Gale could not exchange their after battle pleasantries anymore, which oddly included for some reason talking abut reading books and a terrifying look in their eyes that made me feel real fear for the first time in my life that they might get down and dirty right in front of me, right there on the battlefield.

Thankfully it never came to that. But I lived in fear of every shadow we’ve slain until they finally managed to resolve that tension.

Which was especially odd, since I believe that one of the Absolute’s disciples we met at Moonrise Towers was the one to thank for that turn of events. Or maybe not. It was probably just a matter of time anyways.

Because this insane druid here, who has this very annoying and very beautiful gift of seeing the best in people and believing in them before the people even consider doing that themselves and this odd, purple wizard with his eloquence, books and spells and his weirdly enticing charm belong together.

A match made in heaven – no – based on what we have seen from the gods, it is a so much mightier match made from nights under the stars, hands tangled in fur, forged by devotion and the willingness to sacrifice what could aid us in favor of your love not hurting anymore.

A bond stronger than Gale’s hubris and hunger for ambition and a delusional promise of unlimited power.

A love that flourished in a place of darkness and dread, amidst a curse that turned every living, breathing thing into a shadow made from despair and hopelessness – a love that bloomed when I wondered if we would ever see the sun again. When I was still asking myself if we would actually manage to get rid of the tadpoles and not die in the process.

But amidst it all, despite it all, were there the two of you and the kisses you shared, when you thought we couldn’t see you and the ones you didn’t care whether we saw them or not.

There were your giddy, stupid smiles and the light that returned to your eyes, Tav. Don’t think I didn’t notice how much you suffered from the curse, how much it affected you and how you put on your brave face to give us hope and strength to continue our journey.

I saw it but I was not able to help you, not like Gale could.

Your smile was finally real again when he was around and close to you. I saw how you reached for him, when we ventured into the darkest parts of the curse. And he was already there before you even turned around to him – and assured of his presence you strode forward, your steps powerful and bold. And your magic raged on like I had never seen it before, burning away the darkness and the shadows, cleansing everything on it’s way…

And Tav, you showed me kindness and patience when I did not deserve it throughout all of our journey, you put up with me and my antics and most importantly you accepted who I was, when I barely could do it for myself.

And you saved me, you saved my life more often than I can count, you even brought me back from death because you said that you would miss me and our friendship too much. You could have left me behind, but you didn’t.

And eventually you saved me from myself back in the city, when you faithfully, persistently and firm as rock stood by my side when I faced Cazador. When I dared to loose myself were you there to remind me that I was worthy of a life in the light of being so much more than what he tried to break me into.

And Gale, you showed me magic that I thought to be impossible for me to learn.

You showed me how to protect myself with magic.

And you were the one to pull me out of Cazador’s ritual bounds, you saved me just as much as your beloved did there deep down under the city.

Tav, Gale, I owe you my life!

Especially since the both of you came after me when I burned after the brain fell and the tadpoles were finally gone.

You led me to safety but not back into darkness and despair, no, how could it be ever be dark and lonely for me again, when you, Tav, wrapped me in their cloak while you, Gale, created a magical barrier that sunlight could not penetrate? When the two of you assured me that friends do not get left behind?

I could have, wanted to, succumb to shame that day but you would not let me…

Hey, you two, you better listen close because I may not manage to say it another time: Thank you for helping me all this time, it was very kind!

No, in all seriousness and my undying respect for you:

I am honoured to stand here today and tell the world that I have never before witnessed a love so true, so fated to be, than yours.

You two are here, we are here, today to celebrate that we are living. That we survived and won and most importantly that we are here today to stand witness to your bond…

A bond stronger than fate and darkness and and a tedious journey. A bond that connects you, holds you together, a bond that stretches across worlds, across lives. I am sure that you would find each other in every life. And I am convinced that the two of you are crazy enough and willing to do anything, even getting abducted by mind flayers again, just for a chance to find each other again and fall in love again in another life, if you had to.

So let us raise our glasses to the ones who I am very glad I haven’t killed. Instead I have the honour to call them friends. Family even.

To Tav and Gale, here’s to your love and everything you had to do to get to today…

The Gods know it was no small feat.

You’ve earned it, darlings, you’ve earned it all –and everything that is yet to come for you…”

Tell me honestly, how much in love with Tav and Gale sound Astarion here?

[theshotsheardacrossworlds]

Flirt

Five times Agi flirted with Emmrich, and one time he flirted with her. Last section is NSFW.

Agnes Aldwir, otherwise known as Rook, was desperately trying and failing to stay calm when she went to speak with their newest recruit---Professor Emmrich Volkarin.

I wasn’t exactly enthusiastic about picking up a professor, especially after how shit my own educational experience was.

I thought, “Oh great, here comes another asshole know-it-all to make my life a living hell all over again.”

And then I met him.

And then I fell in love.

I’m in love with this man.

Fucking hells.

“What a fascinating place this Lighthouse is! What do you make of it?” he asked politely.

Zero thoughts.

Head empty.

Trust my heart, because it will never lead me astray…I really hope because I’m going to try—

She smirked. “I think I like it better with a necromancer in the place.”

His eyes widened. “Do you?”

Do it, Agi.

She raised what she hoped was a sort of sexy but also a bit cheeky maybe perhaps eyebrow. “Especially one with experience.”

Without missing a beat, he demurred, “I must be sure to live up to expectations.”

Mission accomplished?

Fuck yeah why not!

All the nervous tension in her body seemed to ease then. “Did you get the tour yet?”

If not, then Emmrich…how about a tour?

Please?

“Oh, I’ve been exploring, but…I noticed a few of the others taken aback by Manfred. And I overheard remarks about my skulls.” Give me names. “My necromancy won’t cause any undue worry, will it?”

Okay, if I’m being completely honest here, there might be some issues.

However, if we have open and honest communication between all parties, I think it should be alright! Yeah, I think that’ll work.

She offered a reassuring smile. “Everyone’s just new. Give it time. We’ll settle in, get to know each other…as long as we’re open and honest I think it’ll all be fine.”

Agi, you sound like a fucking idiot.

And he’s a professor!!!

He doesn’t appear convinced. Fuck.

He tilted his head towards her. “If you say so, Rook.”

Rook.

I can’t even tell him my real name.

He won’t even know me…just Rook.

As quickly as the tension left her and made her feel as light as air, it returned with a vengeance. “I’ll let you get back to it. See you later, Professor.”

She turned to leave, hoping to run and hide. However, when she heard him say gently, “Emmrich, dear,” she froze.

Emmrich.

Why the fuck did I fall in love you when you’re probably married or at the very least have several extremely attractive lovers and I’m a thirty-year-old virgin from Ferelden who no man ever looks twice at? Why? Why did I do this to myself?

He can never love me.

He can like me.

He’ll be my friend, I’m sure.

But that’s all I’ll ever be…that’s all I am.

Everyone’s friend.

An object of romantic love? Never.

Agnes blinked and realized that while she was wallowing, the necromancer was now standing in front of her, his hands gently holding hers.

“Rook? Are you alright?’

Oh fuck.

Her heart began to beat rapidly in her chest. “Oh! Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just been a long day.” A long week. A long month. A long year. A long several years.

Emmrich is absolutely not convinced. Shit. “Are you quite sure, my dear? You’re crying.” He let go of one of her hands and brushed away tears with his thumb. “Rest is most assuredly needed, Rook. As our leader, your well-being is of paramount importance. Please get some rest.”

Why…why is he being nice?

Why is he looking at me like he cares?

Like he…

No.

He doesn’t. He will never.

Nip it in the bud now. Save yourself from another heartbreak.

She stepped back and nodded. “Yeah. I will, thank you. And um, sorry. It’s all been a lot. Sorry.” Agnes mumbled, leaving his library.

But what if…

***

“And what sort of host would I be, if we didn’t end with some light refreshment?” Emmrich said politely, hands clasped at his waist.

Agnes blinked.

That is Manfred.

That is Manfred with tea.

That is Manfred with tea and biscuits.

Did he do that for me?

He can’t do this for everyone, right?

Alright. Be brave, Agi.

Taking a breath, she grinned. “Did you set all this up to make a good impression?”

His eyes widened. “Of course not! I was only—”

Do it, Agi.

“Because it’s working.” Agnes interrupted as a fierce sort of fondness swelled in her chest.

Please tell me I didn’t just make a fool of myself.

For a moment, something resembling shock crossed his features before he collected himself, glancing towards Manfred. “Then it’s my pleasure to share the tranquility of this place with you.” Emmrich offered his arm, which she took, releasing a breath she did not realize she was holding.

Holy fuck.

It’s happening.

He did have it arranged for me.

Oh, Emmrich. You wonderful man…

***

That’s it, Agi. Be professional. Be normal, for fuck’s sake.

Don’t think about those sexy hands of his touching you…

Yes, yes ten pupils in the same class. Crazy. Mad.

“Before you go, I wanted to thank you for your company in the Memorial Gardens.” Emmrich said after Agnes indicated that I should leave before I make a fool of myself. “There’s another ceremony I have to perform there, if you’d like to visit again. Not yet, but soon.” He stared at expectantly, hands on his slender thighs.

He…wants me to go with him again?

O-oh okay.

Maybe he…

Her heart began to race as she smiled. Be honest about what I want. Be honest about how I feel. “You know I can’t turn down spending more time with you.”

It’s the truth.

It’s certainly better than “I’m madly in love with you, and you can take me wherever you like.”

Was that a fucking sigh?!

He did, in fact, sigh. “How lovely to hear you say so.” Me and lovely in the same sentence. Weird. “I’ll always be glad to show you around the tombs, my dear. At your pleasure.”

My dear.

He’s never called me that before.

Oh shit. Oh fuck.

Oh, I’m really in it now.

Her smile changed into a grin. “I’ll take you up on that.”

“Wonderful! Until then.” He exclaimed with a bow of his head, and she turned to leave.

My dear.

I want to hope.

I want to so badly.

He called me…my dear…

Once in the hallway, she leaned against the stone wall, her hands flying to her heaving bosom.

My dear…

***

As Agnes and her comrades prepared to leave for the Warden Forward Camp, the Veilguard’s leader saw out of the corner of her eye that he’s wearing the sexy armor.

Oh shit.

Oh fuck.

What the red-headed mage called “the sexy armor” was Emmrich’s form-fitting preserved gurn hide armor.

Extremely form-fitting.

He’s so fucking slender, and I want to nibble his—

“Agi? Oh dear, I should be saying ‘Rook’ since we’re heading out shortly.” The necromancer chuckled to himself, approaching her with a warm smile.

I want to nibble his tiny, little waist and hips and maybe give him a lick and see what noises come out of his—

FOCUS.

Focus on the mission.

Focus on—

She giggled. “You can call me whatever you want when you’re wearing that, Emmrich.” OH NO. Much to her embarrassment, she continued to giggle. FUCK MY LIFE!!!! “You look so very handsome in the gurn armor.” STOP. “Anyways, I need to grab a few more items, please excuse me!” As quickly as her long legs would carry her, she darted towards the stairs and into Solas’s meditation room.

RUN. HIDE.

Okay, I can’t hide because I need to kill a blighted dragon.

Agi, get your shit together!

He’s only going to be next to you, flinging spells and being SO SEXY IN THE SEXY ARMOR.

Fuck.

***

Oh fuck yes, it’s sexy armor day again.

Agnes tried and is currently failing to remain calm as she watched her lover approach the eluvian room wearing his gurn hide armor. No Davrin and Assan yet so maybe I can flirt or grab his juicy ass—

“Where has my sweet girl gone? She seems so far away…”

She felt his hands on her waist, kneading her ample sides from behind, and his lips by her ear. “I assure you she’s right here,” she said quickly, trying and failing once again to ignore the throbbing at the apex of her plush thighs. Do it, Agi. He’s wearing the sexy armor. Come on! “And thinking about how utterly delicious you look, love.”

The not-so-subtle arch of a perfectly groomed eyebrow caused her to smirk.

I’ve piqued his interest. Good. Maybe I can flirt after all!

His mustache tickled her ear as he whispered, “Tell me about it, darling. I long to hear how I’ve captivated you.”

“You’re going to think it’s mad,” she bit back a moan when a hand found its way under her Dalish wraps. “B-but it’s the gurn hide armor. It’s very…oh dear, Emmrich…” Agnes gasped as his hand caressed her soft belly. “It’s very sexy.” As he pressed himself against her backside, she felt a twitch against her. O-oh my goodness.

A breathy moan fell from him, his mouth trailing kisses along the back of her ear down her neck. “What about it specifically? I must know every detail, darling.”

Oh shit.

Oh fuck.

No Davrin or Assan yet…

She licked her lips. “It’s that…it shows off your figure, but it’s more than that.” He wants to hear. He won’t say I’m stupid or too inexperienced. I trust him. I love him. It’s okay. Everything is okay. “Seeing you without your long coat and casting spells is very sexy, love.’

“Ah, so you derive pleasure from watching me perform, hmm?” His voice between a purr and a growl.

I can hear it now.

“How did Rook die?”

“Death by sexual combustion.”

Before she had a chance to respond, the doors to the eluvian room opened.

Oh no.

“Assan, your mother and her boyfriend are making out in the eluvian room again.” The Warden said with an eyeroll. “Are we going to have to stage an intervention?”

“Death by embarrassment.”

Agnes burst into nervous giggles and gestured towards the eluvian. “Hahaha, no. No, interventions are necessary. Nope. Not here. Anyways, let’s go. Right, Assan? Let’s go!” She pat Assan’s head and went through the eluvian with him, leaving Emmrich and Davrin behind.

The necromancer adjusted armor, eyes on the eluvian. Wicked thoughts flowed through his mind and promised himself that he would indeed perform for her later.

And boy did he! I couldn’t walk for nearly an hour after…

***

Though Agnes was tired from a particularly long day with Emmrich and Harding in Dock Town, she was not about to miss one of her favorite times of the week---Wednesday Game Night. Board games. Card games. Whatever. We just play games. It’s fun. And Lucanis baked cookies!

As she walked back to Emmrich’s bedroom, she was expecting to see him lying in bed reading.

Because that’s what he does most nights.

After she closed and locked the door behind her, she turned and nearly JUMPED OUT OF MY FUCKING SKIN! HOLY FUCKING SHITBALLS!

Her beloved was not, in fact, reading in bed.

Emmrich “It’s Making Love Not Fucking, Darling” Volkarin was, indeed, lying down on his bed.

Wearing a black silk robe that’s open.

His gold-rimmed reading glasses perched on the edge of his sexy nose.

Is that…what’s that around his cock?

A squeal of surprise tore through her as she scrambled inside, slamming the door shut. “Emmrich!”

“A little birdie told me you won at cards tonight, darling.” He breathed, his twinkling eyes on her. “I thought I might offer my best girl a very special reward.”

She hummed as she strode towards him, barely stifling a giggle. “Was this little birdie’s name Manfred?”

“Agi! Won! Good!”

Standing at the foot of the bed, she began to undress. “Because if it was, then Manfred left out an important piece of information, love.”

Emmrich raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Did he now? Why don’t you come over here, dear, and tell me all about it.” To her, he was elegance personified a deposited his glasses on the side table and is offering himself to me like he’s a fucking banquet. Fuck. Shit. Balls. HIS BALLS.

Now nude, she climbed into bed and leaned over him. “It was Go Fish, Emm. I beat Bellara and Lucanis at Go Fish.”

The most beautiful man I’ve ever seen and have the pleasure to love fucking guffawed. Laughing so hard he’s crying.

His cock is still very hard with a ring on it.

Well, since he’s already…prepared…

He insisted I come at least four times before he even thought about it.

He’s mad, but I love him.

I love him.

[tkaulitzlvr]

could i request a drunk tom? like what would happen if he drinks too much and the reader is with him 👀

INTOXICATED - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: when tom gets a little too drunk after a night out, it’s your job to get him home in one piece - which turns out to be a lot harder than it seems.

content: fluff

a/n: i really hope you like it thank you so much for the request!!

i had lost sight of tom, looking for the familiar black braids and bandana amongst the crowd of drunken bodies, knowing that my boyfriend would be there somewhere. he was already tipsy before he’d left me, the alcohol getting to him faster than it usually would. he’d told me that he was going to get another drink and that he’d “be right back”, so i had stayed put on the sofa we were sat at, slowly sipping my porn star martini and waiting for him to arrive. that was 10 minutes ago, and, despite knowing how crazy my boyfriend can get after a few too many drinks, i still began to grow worried, standing up and moving through the endless sea of sweaty bodies, but none of them were tom.

calling out his name would be pointless - the music was so loud that i couldn’t even hear the conversation going on right next to me, let alone would tom be able to hear me calling him. instead, i settled on searching the entire place for him, with little success. it was a saturday night, the bar completely packed as expected. after a chorus of “sorry” and “excuse me”s, i finally made me way out of the crowd, and to the bar, seeing tom drunk out of his mind, empty shot glasses around him. i storm over, him turning to see me as a large grin spreads across his face.

“babyyyyyy!” he slurs, reaching out and trying to pull me into a hug from the barstool he is sat on.

“don’t baby me tom! what happened to ‘coming right back’? i’ve been looking for you everywhere.” i scold, looking at his face and seeing that he is far too wasted to even realise how angry i am.

“sorry, i just wanted a drink.” he smiles lazily, gesturing to the empty glasses infront of him.

“a drink? how many have you had since you left? jesus christ how are you even still conscious?” i question, sitting at the bar stool next to him, not even attempting to count the shots he’d been shoving down his throat - the answer would have only frustrated me even more than i already was.

he was completely shitfaced. i don’t think he even realised that i was talking to him, or, talking at all. all that he could do was grin like an idiot, constantly trying to grab me or kiss me, placing his hands anywhere that they could reach, reminding me how turned on he gets when drunk - even more than his usual self. “i don’t know, maybe like 3? or 9? you should have some too!” he chuckles, failing to see the unimpressed look on my face, as i stare at him blankly.

“and who would take us home if i did? you were meant to drive us, remember? i can’t drink anything else ‘cause it looks like i’ll be the one doing it.” i sigh, resting my head in my hands, wondering how the fuck i’ll be able to get this man out of the bar and into a car without losing my sanity.

“whattt? no, schatz, i’ll drive. i’m perfectly fine, look.” he attempts to sit straight, this apparently sufficing as proof for his sobriety, but the second he removes his torso from where it was resting on the table, he wobbles slightly, trying to play it off as a stretch.

“see?” he says, genuinely proud of himself, a satisfied smile appearing on his face.

“jesus fucking christ.” i mutter, taking a deep breath. “you can’t even sit straight. i’m driving baby, end of.”

he nods, accepting my answer before finishing the last of his glass, holding his arm out and trying to wave the bartender over.

“tom what are you doing?” i ask, putting my hand over his and placing it back on the table.

“getting another drink.” he shrugs, saying those words so nonchalantly as if he isn’t one more sip away from passing out.

“are you insane? you’re absolutely wasted, let’s go.” i say, knowing that it won’t end here.

“noooo! im just getting started, let’s stay, please baby?” he begs, staring into my eyes and rubbing his thumb over my thigh, trying to win me over. his eyes were tired, half-lidded as he looked at me through them, completely out of it.

“no, come on baby. we’re leaving.” i insist, grabbing his hand and lifting him upwards, his arm wrapping itself around my shoulder as we begin to walk out. surprisingly, he could hold himself up pretty well - it was walking in something even remotely close to a straight line that proved impossible for him. when we reach the crowd of intoxicated bodies past the bar, he quickly pulls out of my grasp, taking my hand and leading me into it.

“let’s dance.” he slurs, attempting to grab my waist and pull it against his crotch, running his hands up and down my body.

“are you crazy? we are going home, come on.” i pull away from him, irritated by his advances but not at all surprised. normally, i wouldn’t complain when he acted this way, but when i wanted nothing more to be home and in bed, my body tired from having to look after him for this long, it only angered me more, dancing with him the last thing on my mind. my hand finds his once again, roughly trying to pull him through the flood of people, not without him opening his mouth once again.

“did i tell you how beautiful you look tonight?” he whispers in my ear, mumbling his words as he can barely utter a sentence, his hand falling to my ass and giving it a rough squeeze. i gasp, quickly turning my head to face him. his eyes are hooded, full of lust, a proud smirk plastered across his face.

“tom stop! not right now.” i hiss, shaking my head and turning back to the doors as i push through them, hearing him laugh behind me.

“you know you liked it.” he mumbles, taking my hand as i hold it out for him, scanning the empty streets and trying to make out tom’s car in the darkness, the dimly lit street lamps providing next to no light.

i ignore his response, eventually making out the familiar r8 and turning to tom. “keys?” i ask as he slowly searches his pockets, pulling them out and tossing them to me, this the first time he has actually done something without trying to make a quick remark, or completely ignore what i had asked.

“come on.” i sigh, pulling him towards the passenger side and struggling to put him in the car. he laughs at my fight with his stubbornness, clearly finding this whole situation amusing. i manage to sit him down, pointing to his seatbelt.

“put it on.” i say, running out of patience with him.

“hmmm i think you should do it.” he smiles, staying put and waiting for me.

“fuck me.” i mutter, grabbing the seatbelt and wrapping it around his body until it clicks in place.

“gladly baby.” he smiles, happy with himself as he reaches for his jacket, trying to pull it from his frame.

“you know i didn’t mean it like that.” i shake my head, pulling the jacket back on and closing the door rushing over to the drivers seat, scared of leaving him alone for even a few seconds. i open the door, sitting down as tom quickly reaches over, planting a sloppy kiss onto my cheek, his breath smelling so strongly of alcohol that it takes me aback.

“i love youuuu.” he says, looking at me and resting his hand on my thigh. i laugh slightly, my heart melting at his attempt to be romantic, even in this state.

“i love you too.” i sigh, turning the engine on as it hums quietly over the radio. tom starts to tap his hands against the dash to the beat at an obnoxiously loud volume, but i am far too tired to even try get him to stop, letting him carry on as i begin the short drive home.

“come on, up the stairs. then we can go to bed, okay?” he let’s out a small “mhm”, kicking off his shoes as he does so, letting them tumble down the stairs, knowing that i’ll be the one to clean his mess in the morning.

he stumbles his way upwards, reaching the top of the stairs and walking into our shared bedroom. his body flops onto the bed, sinking into the sheets with a loud sigh. i pull him upwards, studying the oversized jeans and shirt he is wearing, knowing that he isn’t fit to change clothes himself.

without saying a word, i reach for the hem of his t-shirt, lifting the material over his head.

“woah baby, slow down! if you wanted to fuck you should’ve just asked.” he smiles, taking both of his hands and putting them on my waist, using his tongue to play with his lip piercing.

“we aren’t fucking tom, not when you’re like this. you need to get changed, you can’t sleep in this.” i explain as he sighs in disappointment.

“such a tease.” he mumbles, undoing the button of his jeans and pulling them off, sliding under the covers whilst i get into my own pyjamas, joining him in bed as he quickly holds my waist, his chest against my back, head rested in my neck. he places a long kiss on the bare skin, holding my waist and gently caressing it.

“goodnight.” i say. silence. for the first time tonight, he says nothing. i sigh in relief, shutting my eyes and assuming that he has fallen asleep.

“you sure you don’t want to fuck?”

requests are open! keep sending them in!!

[kiokos]

A GIRL’S NEWFOUND PROBLEMS

Sypnosis: Y/N L/N, a girl rejected by everyone due to her ‘unusual’ appearance, had met up and become friends with a boy who was obsessed with soccer when she was 13, without knowing he would be the reason that she got to meet with the 3 people who would make her life shine brighter than ever before.

A/N: let’s ignore how I haven’t posted in weeks…☺️ ITS BC OF MID TERM EXAMS CHAT💔💔💔

Genre: slight romance, crack, strangers to 4lifers, suggestive sometimes (?)

Failed the maths exam btw. Are we surprised? I think not.

Today was okay… except for the MASSIVE FUCKING WINDS??? THANK U SWEDEN WHAT A GREAT BLESSING IT IS TO HAVE UR HAIR FLY IN 18 DIFFERENT DIRECTIONS 💔💔 ALSO SORRY THIS IS SUPER MEGA SHORT I’M STILL IN WRITERS BLOCK:(

Taglist: @ihe4rtme

Chapter: 01

Previous: chapter 00

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You let out a sigh as you clicked ‘send’, before looking up at the door. The house-no, villa was MASSIVE. No wonder there were 4 people living here…! Actually, you were surprised it wasn’t the whole entire blue lock squad - surely it was necessary for it to be THIS big, right….?

As you were busy admiring the house, you soon realized that you REALLY needed to go inside… the wind was relentless, blowing your hair in 7 different directions, with you practically holding the wall to not get blown away. ‘When is this idiot going to open the door!?’ You let out a sigh of relief when he finally opened it.

Before you even stepped in, he chuckled at you before saying “you got yourself in a hell of a mess, girl.” Before you could reply, he had already left to tell the others that you were here. As the 3 others ascended from their cave, you silently told yourself ‘yup. I’m cooked. These guys are gonna be a fucking pain to deal with….’ You exhaled deeply as you took off your shoes and settled down your bag before settling down on a chair(as rin told you to.)

You were mentally preparing for rin to start asking questions, but it was actually shidou who was asking the questions here… so, once again, you are COOKED. You waited a bit before shidou finally opened his mouth. “So, like, when’s your birthday?” “Oh, it’s (Insert your birthday.)” “hmm, okay, where are you from?” “I’m from here. Japan.” “Right, right. Uhh.. guys, what esle should I ask?” Rin groaned as he pushed shidou aside. Rin started, saying, “do you have any pets?” “No, I don’t.” “Hmm, okay. Do you have allergies?” “Nope, none that I know of.” “Okay, do you drink?” “Well.. sometimes, but not often.” “Do you work from home?” “No, I don’t.” “Do you go to college?” “Yeah, I do.” “Okay.. do you smoke?” “No.” “Alright, what’s your workday routine?” “Uhm, it really depends on the day, but I often come home really late, so yeah.” “How would you handle conflict?” “Erm, depends on the situation, but I’d try to calm me and the other person down so we don’t cross any boundaries or get hurt.”

(Timeskip to after the interview..)

Rin sighed before turning to the other guys as he said, “yeah, she seems fairly normal… compared to karasu atleast. Alright, L/N-“ “you guys can call me Y/N.” “..okay, Y/N, you can go and pick out which room you’d like.”

You nodded as you got up and started wandering around the house before you pulled out your phone to text karasu.

[amymbona]

i’m (s)creaming for private school patrick.

like enemies to lovers in like a patrick is a duchebag who uses his dads money and power to the full extent, always ditching classes, getting caught with alc and drugs but never being expelled like all the other kids, and rumors that say his dad payed for the new building for him to stay after failing half of his classes way. readers also pretty well off, but she never abuses it and works hard for her grades.

him and readers friends are talking at the courts before practice and patrick saids something like why would you try hard if you’re spoilt anyway, and they get into a argument!!!!!!

just a start but i’ve been thinking about this for so long.

He's such a cocky little bitch, you really wanna punch his ugly face sometimes. Spoiled idiot who's daddy is willing to pull him out of every shit hole he jumps into. It's unfair, the Zweig priviledge, when there are people who work hard and put their whole being into something, just to have this Patrick guy come and steal their dreams.

You're the first person to ever tell that to Patrick, yelling at him, a small circle of people gathering around you two. You keep calling him a spoiled kid, a little bitch and much much worse while he just stands there, arms crossed, smirking, loving the way your cheeks turn red the angrier you are.

"Calm down, angel face, you're gonna burst," he counters, patting your shoulder. His words earn a laugh from the group of people around you, only pissing you off further.

"Trust me, you wouldn't like to see me burst," you smile sweetly, poking him in the stomach with to racket to push him away from you. He complies, raising his hands in mock surrender.

When you push past him, the crowd parts, allowing you to walk through. Walking away, you don't miss the whistle coming from behind you and someone complimenting your ass.

Now the more you try to ignore Patrick's presence, the louder he seems to be. Constantly giggling during lectures, occupying the court for hours so you can't even practice properly, smoking with his stupid friends. Patrick Zweig is suddenly everywhere and, without trying, makes your life complete hell.

He's so smug about it too, greeting you almost politely when you walk past each other, telling to smile and enjoy the life. Just being a usual jerk. You really see his face so often that he starts appearing in your dreams. And to be honest, Patrick aha a hard time forgetting your pretty face as well.

He surprises you by falling into step with you on one random afternoon, both of you on your way to the English lecture.

"I have an offer for you," he begins casually, not even sparing you a glance.

"I don't wanna hear it," you refuse whatever he has to say immediately.

Patrick snickers, eyes flicking towards the curve of your nose and your pouty lips. "I could get you to the New York Times, y'know?"

Your steps come to a halt, brows furrowing at the sudden offer, because that absolutely not something you were expecting. "What?"

Patrick turns to face you, a confident smile on his face. When there's a certain lack of excitement on your face he shrugs, lazily walking closer to you. "What? Don't play stupid with me, Y/N. I know about your journalism stuff."

"What are you even talking about?" you exclaim in confusion.

"Look, I'm not stupid," he sighs, eyes rolling. "You're good at tennis, we can see, but that's not what you wanna do, is it? I know you're constantly nagging to the prof about your writing stuff. And lucky for you, my dad is not short on phone numbers."

You can't believe it. All of this sounds so absolutely absurd that you wanna ask Patrick to pinch you to make sure this is real. Because if doesn't fucking sound like that.

"You're weird," you scoff, pushing past him. This is just stupid.

But Patrick is next to you in no time. "C'mon, Y/N, you know you want it. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Just say yes."

"I'm not accepting anything from you, Patrick," still determined, you keep refusing.

"Why not? Isn't that you dream?" the way he says it makes shivers run down your spine. Of course working for the New York Times is your dream, but you wanna get there through your own accomplishments, and not as a result of someone's rich daddy's call.

"That's none of your business," you mutter, attempting to outrun him.

But before you could walk any further, a big hand wraps around your elbow, and then you're facing Patrick again. Much closer now, you can see the freckles on his cheeks and nose. You've never noticed that before.

"Don't be stupid, Y/N. I could literally make your dream come true," the tone of his voice is now much softer.

"You could?" you snicker ironically. "It's my dream and I am gonna be the only one making it real."

Patrick looks at you silently, head tilting to the side as an attempt, you don't even know, to appear cuter? More innocent? To make you accept his offer?

"Think about it, Y/N," he whispers, palms finding their place on your shoulders. "Just at twenty years old, you could be working at the fucking New York Times. Isn't that thrilling?"

It would be thrilling, if it wasn't Patrick Zweig offering you such a thing, "And what do I have to do for that? Sleep with your rich daddy? Sell my soul to the devil?"

"Nothing," Patrick shrugs simply.

Now that sounds even more idiotic. "What the fuck?"

But Patrick is determined, smiling softly. He almost seems honest. "You heard me, Y/N. I don't want anything from you. I just wanna make you happy."

"Like I'd believe that," you scoff, prying yourself out of Patrick's hold. There's no real way you could possibly accept that.

This time, Patrick doesn't stop you, instead allowing you to walk away. But that stupid smirk stays glued to his face, because he's really not blind, and he saw you consider the opportunity. Even if it was for just a split second. "Let it settle in your head, angel face!"