#I've never read many of those anyways so I feel like I can't give an honest opinion

[itsyourcoffinnowmylove]

I'm sure books back then had their own flaws but so many of the modern books I see seem like garbage. I want to try reading again but all the ones I come across are trashy romances with the same recyclable characters and plots over and over.

[prael]

c'est la vie - Kim Minju

Part 3 of folie à deux.

IZ*ONE Kim Minju x Male reader smut. (ft. a sprinkle of Wonyoung)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6

Masterlist word count: 10,553

c'est la vie - that's life

"I'm so fucked."

Fists clenched and eyes scrunched, you’re venting out loud to no one in particular. You repeat it, "I'm so fucked." Louder this time—to the sky. Well, more accurately, to the plastered ceiling of this little hole-in-the-wall. Either way, the solution isn't there.

It isn't at the bottom of a bottle either, but you're determined to find that out the hard way.

"Is there a friend I can call for you?" The woman behind the bar has stopped polishing off the glasses; interrupted by what she would say are the ramblings of a madman.

"There's no coming back from this." You throw your head forward, catching it in your now open hands, elbows resting on the wooden bar top.

"Sir? I'm going to call you a—"

"I don't need a cab." You draw your head from your hands and open your eyes—allowing the light to pour onto you from one of those little round lights above you. The drink sits in front of you, unfinished. Hard liquor in a tumbler just waiting to be thrown back like the three before it—a plea you can’t ignore. The large ice cube rests against your nose as you pour every last drop onto your tongue and swallow. "I do need another drink."

With the glass set back down, your body slouches and sinks. Eyes stare down at the empty glass and your face is cold to the world, cold to the woman across from you. You must reek of self-pity, the smell thick in the air. 

Let’s be honest, you've had far better days.

She's got her delicate fingers around the neck of the bottle, pouring you a fresh drink and placing it on a napkin, "you know, you're not the first person to stumble into this bar wearing a face like that."

You slide your eyes over to the glass and reach for it. "I highly doubt it."

"But, few of them show up this early, even if it is a Friday." She has a point: you’re propping up the bar alone and drowning your sorrows solo. In fact, there are only two other people in this whole place, sitting together at a table. "So what’s your story?"

"Does there have to be one?" You grip the glass in your hand, giving the stranger the best smile you can fake.

She steps back and brushes her hand on her trousers as she laughs, "I've seen many broken men and women sit at this bar and spend too many hours drinking their life savings, with hearts broken, dreams smashed and most of all, mistakes they regretted. But you seem different."

"Oh really, why's that?" Your eyes stare into your drink. It stares right back at you.

"You're still young."

"Does being broken have an age requirement?"

She shifts and reaches for something, something you can't quite make out, being locked in the most intimate of stares with your drink. It’s the sound of her placing down another fresh glass that gives it away. "Actually, yes. Because you've still got time to work with."

"That's the irony. All I have left is time."

“Then you have to believe in yourself to make the most of that time.” Her words are heavy, like their meaning holds weight within her too.

She lets you dwell on it for a moment while she pours her own drink. She settles herself against the bar top, across from you, resting her head in one open hand. Her gaze burns into you like sitting in the sun. You can feel something else too, a soft vibration in your pocket.

You finally break away from your staring contest with your drink—one you lost anyway—to fish your phone out of your pocket. The screen alights with Gaeul’s name and is followed by the words ‘1 new message’.

After a swipe, it reads, ‘wtf where are you? what happened?’ but the thought of sending a reply never crosses your mind. And, just in case, you switch it over to silent.

“Is that her?” The woman gently waves a slender finger towards your phone as you put it back where you found it. “The reason you’re here?”

"Do you press all your customers like this?"

“Only the interesting ones,” she returns her hand to her glass, taking a sip of it before continuing, “and there’s sadly so few of those.”

"And if I'm not as interesting as you think?"

"Then I'll buy you a drink.” She tilts her glass at you. "For the trouble."

"And if I'm fascinating?"

"I'll still buy you a drink." Another sip from her glass as her lip gloss stains the rim, "maybe two."

"Then no, it wasn't her." And here's the thing, you don't know who to blame. Yourself? Probably. Wonyoung? Maybe. The mystery cameraman who got it all on video? Almost definitely. 

“But it is another woman, right?”

“It’s complicated.”

“I’m not exactly rushed off my feet here.”

You sigh, unsure exactly where to begin with this whole mess. The complete story is a long one. You could tell her about your family—the trouble at home and why you had to leave—but that’s not for anyone to know.

"I transferred here. Moved here with my brother. He's at work right now, and he will be late into the evening." You pause to take another drink. Another burning sensation. "To keep food on our table and keep me in college." 

Even saying so little it weighs on you, the feelings of regret and the feeling that you're saying too much. You bite your tongue and hesitate.

"So why are you here and… you know... not at college?" She pushes you for more. She flicks a finger towards you with her free hand and then brings her glass to her lips.

You drag your eyes up for the first time and finally inspect the woman across from you.

She's your age, roughly—if you had to guess. She's pretty, and that part you're more confident about. She wears her long brunette hair over one shoulder, running in a loose wave, over her slate black blazer, which sits over a small black tee, cropped at the waist. She smiles when your eyes meet hers. And maybe she had no idea, and perhaps it's all subconscious, but the tips of her slender fingers squeeze slightly against the glass now that you're paying her some attention.

"I never got your name," you say with curiosity laden in your voice.

"Minju."

"And why is a young woman like you working here on a Friday afternoon?"

"Were you not the one telling me about your troubles?" She follows her words with a soft laugh.

"Call it quid pro quo. You answer and then I’ll tell you all about it," you say.

"Fine." She stands back upright, adjusting her blouse with a few gentle touches. The way her finger glides across the collar and tugs at it slightly. It's more than a little distracting. She cuts a sleek hourglass shape out of the shelves of bottled booze behind her. "I'm between gigs right now."

"Gigs?"

"Ah." She waves a finger. "My turn."

Minju tilts her head and then rests her palm against the bar—leaning toward you and eyes focused. It’s like an inspection and you instinctively sit up straighter.

"So why are you here?" she asks.

"Expelled. About..." You bring up your wristwatch into view. "About an hour ago."

Her brows go up a fraction and her eyes narrow on you again, almost as if to accuse you of lying to her. But her expression softens almost instantly. You would never notice if not for watching every second in painstaking detail. Her widening eyes reveal to you the thoughts passing through her mind as she racks her brain for a reason you would be expelled.

"You said that you're between gigs, so what is it you do?" you say, shifting the focus back away from yourself.

"I sing. I dance. I model. I act." She pauses with a bitter look. "However, right now, I serve drinks." You get it; she looks the part. That much is clear. She's far too gorgeous to be spending her time polishing glasses and serving screwdrivers to burnouts at happy hour. She looks every bit like a woman who should be so much more, but this isn't Hollywood, and the storybook tale of the waitress who makes it is so cliché.

You swill the last of your drink around in the glass, watching the little tidal pattern inside. The way the ice cube moves with the current, it hypnotises, entrances. You speak, looking down into the amber-hued ocean within your glass.

"And you have the talent to back up the looks?"

"So they tell me." There's no joy in the words or the tone. No pride or smug sense of achievement. If anything, it's dismissive. “It’s just a slow period. That’s life.”

“C’est la vie.” You catch her gaze as you utter the phrase under your breath.

Minju continues despite you, “but things will turn around soon enough. I'm going places."

"Every actor who is going places never seems to get there." Maybe it's the alcohol or maybe it's because, right now, you hate this city and everyone in it, but everything that comes out of your mouth is uncharacteristically curt.

And look, you regret it as soon as it leaves your mouth but that doesn't change the way you just dismissed her. It wasn't meant personally, but it's hard to stop your thoughts from curdling into words right now.

Minju is quiet, and the air becomes heavy. You swallow deep and finally look her in the eyes again. There's something there, some little flicker of emotion untold that gives her away for a moment. She is a woman told repeatedly that she has the world at her feet, but the hard truth of it is that she's here, working away behind the bar because, in fact, life is a lot more cruel.

Absorbed by her vulnerability, you feel the need to backtrack, "that's not—"

"So what, you look at me and see nothing but a girl who couldn't cut it?" There's a flash of fire in her eyes. A burn. A spark that sets the sky alight. A very attractive spark.

The way she fires it back. The passion in her words. The tension building between you as your eyes linger on each other.

You can't explain the attraction, but you can certainly feel it.

"No," you fire back without hesitation, leaning towards her, "what I see is a woman working two jobs just to afford a place to live." Your confidence rises with the alcohol pumping its way through your system and you do your damnedest to rescue the situation. "What I see is a girl with stars in her eyes and a dream that somehow she still keeps alive where so many more have given up. I'm not judging."

Silence.

Sudden, silent, and slightly sinister.

"Yeah, you were," Minju's eyebrows arch in amusement, "but that's fine, I'll take my turn now."

As she leans forward, there are words on her tongue. She looks ready to bite back, but she's looking over you, across the room, watching the only other two people in the bar leave. And for a minute, everything is held in suspense, you are locked together in silence, the clap of their shoes echoing through it. Then the sound of the door, and the brief exposure to the outside world, it's the rain pouring and the cars passing by and then it's the slam shut. It's just you and her, Minju, alone under the dim of the lights.

"So what was it?" she finally breaks the silence.

"Hm?"

"What got you expelled?"

You could lie. There's an opportunity for that. But what's the point? Even though she's a stranger, it doesn't feel like there's a risk if you just come clean and spill your dirty little secret, besides, you owe her one now.

"I got caught fucking in the library." The truth comes out plain and simple. It’s a brazen statement to make in the middle of the afternoon to a stranger. Her gaze shoots down at you. Whatever she expected, it wasn't that.

"I’m sorry, you were caught fucking in the library?" She repeats it out quizzically as if she’s taking time to process. Minju has this way of talking—a lilt in her voice. She has a tone and a pitch that rises and falls with each word. She's amused, that much is clear, by the slight smirk that has curled a corner of her mouth to accompany her sound.

"We were alone, or at least we thought we were, and it’s not like we hadn’t done it before, but apparently, there's evidence." You gesture your empty glass at her, a secondary conversation, unspoken but clear that you need another drink before you tell her anything else.

In doing so you see how she tenses her lips together, holding in her laughter at the thought. She’s holding and you’re watching until she finally cracks, her grin wide and laughter loud.

"Now I am the one judging you. You made fun of me for trying while you're too busy swinging your cock around to even try. So, you tell me, who is the stupid one here?"

"Alright I deserved that one." Your hand had been holding the empty glass to her but now you bring it to rest against the bar top. "In my defence, it's not like I had much of a choice. That girl..."

"Here we go. Let's see how you justify this one." She finally takes your empty glass and when the edge of her fingers brushes across the back of your hand, they linger for far too long. And when she draws back, dragging away those long, delicate fingers from your own, you find yourself suddenly cold.

"It's not like I could turn her down if I wanted to. Also I would never have done it in the library if she didn't make me."

"She 'made' you. Go on." There's scepticism in the words. Her mocking tone teasing you as you watch her turn to the shelves behind her, eyes scanning the possibilities.

"No one says no to her. Never."

"Wow, sounds like quite a woman," she says, ever more playful, as she reaches for the top shelf. Her blazer is pulled up now, ever so slightly exposing her back above the waist of her trousers. Trousers hugging the subtle swell of her hips. Her small, tight, round ass is defined through the fitted fabric. You can't look away.

"Everything comes easily for her. There are literally men fighting for her affections. They would die for her," the words tumble from your mouth, as your gaze lingers.

You must have been lost in the daze and absent-mindedly following the contours of her thighs because by the time you shift focus to her face, she's peering at you from over her shoulder. Eyes sharp as daggers, as if to say it’s a little too obvious.

"Wow she sounds like a real piece of work. I know someone like that too. " Minju turns with bottle in hand, hair swirling around her as she does so. She's graceful. Unbothered and unhurried by anything. "This one is perfect. This bottle is older than me."

She pours two fresh drinks with more ice in each.

"Am I going to regret this in the morning?" you question as the weight of the glass finds your hand.

"You might. But at this moment? No."

You trust her, somehow, inexplicably; you do.

She asks, “so, what will you do now?” it’s a question as funny as it is difficult to answer. 

The truth is that you haven’t got the slightest clue. You tell her as much and try to explain it as best you can, and her eyes soften as you share the details. It’s supposed to be a back-and-forth—quid pro quo—but she’s pressing you with question after question: how long have you known her? Is she pretty? Where does she see you in all of this?

“You and her. Still a thing?”

Minju is on your side of the bar now, sitting by your side with little caution about personal space; there’s not an inch of space between you. Her thigh presses against you and her upper arm is flush with your own.

"Me and Wonyoung were never a thing, not really."

Minju stops dead and chokes, holding her throat, and forcing the drink down. Her whole body shifts. She nearly falls off the bar stool and, after steadying herself, she stares blankly forwards.

"Wonyoung? Jang Wonyoung?"

"Yeah, her." The new drink meets your lips and its taste is a hell of a lot richer than the cheap stuff you were pouring down. It’s laden with a smoky taste over sweet tones.

There's a silence even after you finish taking a drink. Something untold hangs in the air. You know it. She knows it. She's here on the verge of telling you something, but what? And you sit here and wait, despite the racing of your heartbeat.

"I should have known." Minju shakes her head, laughing, but without a smile.

"Should've known what?"

"You're Wonyoung's new toy. I should have guessed as soon as I saw you, she has this effect on people."

You stiffen at that. It's always the truth that hurts the most and the fact is you really were just a toy. A convenient dildo.

"You know what you need right now?" She twists on the stool, and suddenly, you've got Minju looking straight at you. Eyes locking with you. Right there. Looking up at you. So close. Right there, leaning back ever so slightly so her chest arches towards you, accentuating her small breasts, straining against her shirt.

"Drinking helps," you reply, raising your glass.

"Yes, but so does fucking."

That’s a line. It’s one that shouldn’t come as a surprise because a girl like this probably has a lot of experience in being wanted, so who is to say she can’t turn the table for once? But in one breath you’re giddy, taken out of yourself and feeling drunker by the moment. Not on the booze, but her. She is intoxicating.

It takes you a few seconds to notice but her free hand slips on your leg, rubbing and caressing as it snakes further and further up.

"What?" You ask as if it needs confirmation and in those long few moments, you think you must have imagined it. And the same way a nervous laughter rises, the laughter spilling out of your throat, she is quick to quench the growing dread inside of you by sliding her palm across your bulge.

"Wait here." Something has switched inside her. You don’t know what, but either way, it's got her standing up and strutting towards the door. With each step, she opens her body language. A growing swagger, letting you see the sway of her hips. Left and right. Just enough to catch the eye. And oh boy, does your eye get caught. You couldn't pull your gaze away now if you wanted to.

She's swiping hands at the door now and flicking the locks. Then she's pulling the blinds shut. A giggle comes from Minju as she spins back to face you. She runs her bottom lip through her teeth and stares right into you.

You feel exposed but, strangely, comfortable. It's so very odd; with no clue as to what happens next. It has your heart pounding out of your chest.

"I thought you were alone tonight because you were upset, but no, I understand it now. You're frustrated. Angry. Stressed. She used you and got away with it."

She kicks off her heels, loses a few centimetres in height, and is walking barefoot across the floor - toward you. Her shoulder rolls to one side and then to the other as her body rises and falls, sashays with the pace of her hips. She can see that you're stuck. You’re rooted to the seat with a dumb look on your face, and yet she saunters ever closer.

“I am a little confused,” you finally say. She's so close that all your senses are lost to the approach of Minju's swaying frame. Her curves, her body, her gentle steps, the way her perfume smells—it's consuming you.

She ignores you and continues, "I’m frustrated too. I'm so frustrated that I'm wasting time in this damn bar. I'm angry at all the auditions that ended up with producers rejecting me. I know exactly what you're feeling. You're angry at the world and everyone in it." Her tone grows raspier. More raw and less stable. "You feel alone. Hung out to dry and in need of attention."

"And you feel the same?"

"Yes, and I'm hungry. Starved of any real satisfaction. You told me I’m going nowhere and I guess it means I need a little attention, too."

You watch her eyes flittering as she looks you up and down. The sultry grin she wears shows she likes what she sees.

"So what are you going to do about it, Minju? What is the solution?" You drop a look down to the soft and slender flesh of her neck.

"No strings. We get this all out of our system." Minju leans in. Lips so close to yours. She stays there. It's torture. "You let all that shit out. Take out your pent-up stress, frustration, anger."

"On you?"

"Exactly. You'll feel better. I will too. Because right now…" Her nose presses against the side of your own. Soft skin. Gentle pressure. "I need it rough."

Her hand lands on your thigh again, rubbing down the denim of your jeans.

The offer is enticing. It has your head swimming with dirty images of everything the two of you could do together, and your cock? Well, that's already twitching in your underwear.

"This isn’t going to help, it will just make things worse."

"Can they really get any worse?"

Minju brings your hand, hers and yours, to her waist. Your thumb feels the soft material of her shirt, and your fingers touch that small patch of skin below it.

"Are we prepared to find out?" Your lips graze gently against hers. The thrill. The electricity in the air.

"I’m ready. More than ready. Just this once, do what you want to do and make me the star of your fantasy. Use me. Make me everything you need." She plants her lips firmly on yours. You both go quiet, muffled by a kiss.

Nothing to do but feel.

Minju's grip tightens on your leg, and yours on her waist. The other hand slides up to her chest, finding her breast, cupping it and feeling her. She opens her mouth. And you follow. Your tongues are colliding and sweeping across one another, eager and desperate.

So you push, guiding the two of you to stand. Minju staggers back, and you're with her every step of the way. Stumbling through a kiss. Hands everywhere. Uncertain. Lost, confused, and passionate. It's an incoherent tumble that takes you both crashing through chairs, pushing them aside until you hit something sturdy. Minju's ass slams against the pool table and she grunts into your mouth.

Her lips drag away and she smiles. "Fuck me."

You grab her by the hips, lifting her onto the pool table.

"I need to see the big cock that’s got Wony all worked up. She wouldn’t settle for anything disappointing." She's fumbling at your waist, struggling with the buckle of your jeans.

"This what you want?" Your words vibrate through her. And when you take a handful of her hair and tug, there's a long, soft, desperate sigh from Minju's parted lips.

"Use me. Abuse me." Her fumbling finally succeeds and the waist of your trousers slackens. "I know how I look, but don't worry, you're not going to break me."

She's pushing at your trousers, your boxers, and when that stiff dick pops out, her smile spreads into a big, stupid grin. It's not an unattractive expression—not really. It just tells the truth. She is excited. 

It’s as clear as day that you are too. You’re rock hard, stiff as hell, ready to fuck, and this, this will give you the chance to let it all out. All of it.

"Perfect." Minju grabs your cock in both hands, still warm, throbbing, and strong. "Just look at this thing."

You pull on her hair again, harder, until she breaks away from you, until she gives way—losing the grip on your cock and falling back on the table. And now you slow as if to savour the moment as you’re sliding your fingers under the waist of her trousers. Not often you get afforded a measure of control.

"C’mon, please, don't be gentle," Minju moans out through gritted teeth. The desperation is painted on her face and that’s the difference here: while a girl like Wonyoung wouldn’t let you go slow, Minju is the type of girl who makes you not want to go slow.

So you pull at the trousers of the girl sprawling out in front of you, tearing the button from the fabric, yanking them open and pulling them down those long, slender legs. The flesh is soft. And to touch, so smooth and light. Minju's breathing picks up—becoming shorter and deeper with each touch to her sensitive skin.

"I might leave marks."

Minju stares you down, hands already massaging over her panties. "I hope you will."

The thought is intoxicating, so much more so than the alcohol in your blood, as your hands paw over her legs; you knead soft skin with a kind of aggression you haven't felt before.

Minju is a rare girl.

Beautiful. And by definition, beautiful women have seen it all before.

But her?

The look she gives? Like no man has ever fully satisfied the itch within her. It's deep-set hunger. The kind that she chases endlessly for.

This hunger makes people behave stupidly, careless and forgetful of the consequences. And maybe you know that all too well but even still it's a risk worth taking. Every choice has led you here and maybe that is your solace, that it's not all downhill from here.

And as your hands reach her small satin panties, the warmth embraces you, and the urge within you grows. You hook your fingers inside and draw the panties aside to expose the tight pink flesh of Minju's cunt.

Not that you would expect anything else, but she is clean-shaven. So smooth. Not a single blemish. This is a girl who kept herself neat and pristine, and yet from her mouth spills utter filth, "just look at how wet this pussy is for you."

She's running her fingers between her lips, showing you everything she has to offer between her legs, showing you where she expects you dick will get put to use.

"This tight fucking cunt can take everything your thick cock has to give."

"Minju, you’re so..." You're standing over her, her legs spread wide beside you, blazer falling from her shoulders leaving nothing covering her but that low-cut top.

Minju stares right at you, eyes fixed, wide and eager, her chest heaves with every deepening breath she takes in. She's wild, reaching for you with one hand, stretching to hold you and then pulling at your shirt to draw you in.

"I'm so needy. Please fuck me." She's whining through closed lips as her other hand slips away from her pussy and glides over her taut abs and leaving her cunt ready to be used. She wants it, desperately, and you're drawing it out. Making it build inside her, and you hold your cock in your hand.

You're stroking, and she's watching. And for all her strain to pull at your shirt, to pull you into her, you hold back. You hold just long enough. Enough for her arm to fall limp. Enough for her to almost give in. "Please..." she trails off with a whimper.

You push the head of your stiff cock against her cunt—against her clit. Your hips roll as you run the entire underside of your cock between her lips. She gasps and breathes deeply. She's holding it all the while. All the time it takes for you to draw your cock back, so the tip is right there. Ready.

She let's go as you do. The air escapes her lungs with a sharp squeal. You let your cock sink in. Slow but persistent, you push further and further, feeling her tensing. Then the clench and tightness overwhelms. She gasps and squirms, wriggles beneath you and her nails scratch at the fabric of the table beneath her.

You push again, sinking your cock as far as you can through her wet hole.

There's a loud snap and squeal from Minju. Pretty girl broke a nail. It flew off somewhere across the room, such is her grip onto the table. "Fuck. So fucking full," she manages, barely. It's more the noise you force from her than any actual communication.

You draw your hips back and she's quick to encourage you, "again," she says.

Your hips are driving forward again, pushing every last centimetre back through her.

Minju whimpers. There's this short, sweet purr from deep within her. You feel her stretch, she moves a little, adjusting herself atop the pool table. There's a warmth that swells, tightens, and pulsates. And you feel the breath come easier. It leaves her as though her body has settled to a kind of ease and pleasure, some form of satisfaction.

You refuse to let her rest. It's not what she would want.

It's not what you want.

You run your hands along her inner thighs, past her knees until you finally reach her ankles and pull them together and hold them aloft. You lift and pull her ass up slightly from the table. She's suspended now while you fuck into her.

The shake of her small frame is completely erotic. Watching her ass and thighs jiggle as you fuck into her. That plump little ass taking slap after slap from your hips.

Her perfect skin reddens as her moans louden the longer you last. There are high-pitched squeals and low and gritty growls. They bounce around the empty bar, reverberating and multiplying—echoing back louder than before.

"Harder." She thinks she can take more. Look, Wonyoung was demanding, she wanted to control everything and push your limits, but Minju? Minju is whole different type of demanding. She's welcoming everything you have with every fibre of her being. Her pussy so eagerly taking it all, and it just seems like no matter what limit you push past, or the more Minju takes, the more she craves.

You pull her legs to you, calves on your shoulders, feet in the air, and your hands move firmly onto her hips. You steady her—ready her. Your grip bruises the tender skin (hey, it's what she wants) and then you fuck her like your life depends on it. Your cock pumping inside with reckless abandon.

"Keep going! Just like that! Fuck!" her voice rises over the rhythm of your low grunts, and the crack of your hips slapping against her ass.

Minju's face twists, red and flushed. She's so tense. Muscles tight around the neck and her teeth buried in the soft flesh of her lower lip. Her voice is low and raw, growling, as she pleads for more with words you can't pretend to understand. It's not eloquent or graceful... In fact, it's that incoherence that makes this all the better—so utterly unbothered, unconcerned with anything other than being thoroughly used, fucked and defiled.

She has that hungry glaze in her eyes when you look down upon her, a girl being exactly the kind of filthy thing she promised to be. And those eyes only draw you in, you're pushing over her, folding her legs further against her body until she's truly helpless. Pinned to the table. Bent in two. No ability, nor want, to stop you from dominating her.

"I'm gonna—" she tries to speak until you press down, right into her. She squeezes your cock inside that tight, creaming hole. Then she whines, loud.

So loud.

Her back would arch high if it could. But she can't break free. You have her completely immobilized with your upper bodyweight. And fuck does she love every second of it. She's got handfuls of her shirt, pulling it, clutching, writhing. Ecstasy courses through her and eyes roll.

And now she's rolling, you're turning her. Ankles in your hands, you have pulled out and you're flipping her onto her front, face down into the table. She’s just… accepting it. Not an ounce of fight in her. Not even a word. Just a throaty moan.

"Be a good girl for me, won’t you?” you’re ordering, “give me your hands.” 

She reaches her arms back over her subdued body and lets you take her delicate wrists.

She submits.

Just lying there prone, her delicate body against the table, with that tight little ass perched on the edge of it, and that skimpy underwear still pushed aside for her throbbing cunt. Those slender legs left hanging either side of you. And go on, you're allowed to think it in the simplest of terms; Minju is sexy. In a word, that's it. Sexy. And yet, the reality is there's so much more you can say. Every soft curve of her toned body is alluring, she is magnetic and inviting, and that cute face peering over her shoulder, long hair spilled all behind it. All the words in the world couldn't do justice to describe her—couldn't properly capture the image.

"What are you going to do to me, daddy?" Oh, she says it so seamlessly, slips it in like it's been on her lips for a while - floating in the atmosphere since you took control. And now that it's finally landed, you feel its weight. It has her voice different; smokey and dripping with sex. And it hits you straight between your legs. 

She licks her lips and tests it out again, just for good measure: "what does daddy think I deserve?" 

One hand holding her wrists against the small of her back, another gripping her hip. Her legs sway lazily, unable to reach the floor. Helplessly dangling, waiting for her fate. And you're not a man to disappoint a girl like Minju.

"I'm going to use the needy little slut in front of me," you say as the head of your stiff cock probes at her cunt, slipping between her wet lips and sliding against her swollen clit. Teasing her. 

You draw it back up again and pushing apart her ass cheeks with the length of your cock. Slipping under the thin fabric of her soaked panties.

She bites her lower lip and whimpers through her teeth. The head of your wet cock slides against her tight asshole, and her hips twitch back. "Whatever you need, take it from me." She means that. There's yearning in every word. The hunger and desire in her voice growing thicker.

You push against her, cock sandwiched between her cheeks, pushing your weight down and pressing her against the table. Her eyes close for a moment, her fingers curl into her palms.

"Yes. Fuck," Minju's desperate encouragement spills through clenched teeth.

You pull back your cock and replace it with your thumb, sliding your hand over her ass and slipping it against her puckered hole.

"Please da—" You slip the tip of your thumb just inside her ass and hold it there while she holds her breath. 

Anticipation— 

Waiting— 

Knowing what's coming next. 

Minju is completely still as you drive your cock into her cunt again. Sinking yourself in so deep—balls deep. Her hands become tight fists and her whole body is shaking. You withdraw and plunge again, and she hisses, breathing from the bottom of her lungs, ragged and shallow, and fighting to speak.

"I'm a dirty, needy, little slut and you’re going to use me—"

You spit at her spread ass, right onto your thumb, and use it to dig a little deeper. "What are you?" your question provokes an instant answer,

"I'm a horny slut. I'm a fuck-hole. That's what I am."

As if it's a reward for her honesty, you fuck her a little harder. Push your thumb a little deeper. She smiles through a howl of ecstasy, the sound swelling into the room.

"Tell me again," you command with another pump of your hips, stretching her even more with your thumb.

Her words crackle, dying in her throat with each impact of your hips, "I'm just a dumb girl who needs to be full of cum."

No sane man would refuse it. Not you, not anyone. Definitely not you at all. You couldn't resist any part of her, but especially not that filthy demand. Especially not with how you felt watching those gorgeous fucking curves ripple every time your hips slapped against her ass.

It's all so easy, how you continue, keeping pace. Thumb deep in her ass. Balls smacking against her soaked pussy with every thrust. It's a pleasure all too overwhelming—a thrill, a sensation, a powerful sense of utter fucking satisfaction and all-consuming desire—an erotic overflow inundates, a swell, an ever-growing crest inside your balls.

"Minju. I'm. Gonna—"

"Cum in me? Please." She's the hallmark of innocence-gone-wrong; the way such words roll off her tongue with playful ease. And she knows all the right ones. The ones that she knows will bring all the right reactions. To speak to you on a primal level. She's at it again, cutting into you, "Inside— Inside me."

Cutting through you like the blade of a knife, right to your core and you obey—fuck.

"Daddy please."

You're incensed.

Dogged with the pounding you're giving her, you have lost control of just how deep you have your thumb in her ass. This is so Indecent. Obscene, even. For you, or for anyone, to just... enjoy something like this. Your body is roaring with lust as her ass and cunt both squeeze on you, clamping you as you drive yourself to the brink.

"I wanna... feel your hot load," her voice comes shaking through the unabated pounding you're inflicting. "Fill me please," she's begging and it sounds a little clearer now, stronger, a little louder, no doubt because she knows it's almost done.

You tug at her wrists, pulling her arms back and her body away from the table. Her head hangs forward beneath a wave of hair. Face covered by sweat streaks across those pretty sculpted features.

"Please, I'll be a good girl and take every drop. All the fucking cum that daddy has. Make me your stupid dirty little slut," she compels, then yelps with every new slam and stroke of the stiff cock being buried into her again and again.

That tight asshole, and that cock-hugging pussy. All the relentless slamming that you have done and will do. All the desires, with the pent-up frustration, the rage and anger and tension that has built up—you release it. Everything goes as you send your load rushing through your cock to paint her insides.

Pushing everything you have in. Pumping. Driving hard.

Her squeals are like music to the soul. Relief and rapture are overflowing. And fuck. What a ride. What a rush. You pump her full until she's gasping for air, struggling in your grasp and making sure to moan each and every dirty word into the atmosphere as she fights to hold on. What a thrill. And as the two of you hit the limits of physical exhaustion and exhilaration, you pull back. Letting the girl lay there, spent, and filled, on the pool table.

Used.

Satisfied.

Sullied.

Minju to you, today, is a feeling of freedom. Fulfilment. Absolution. As she lay limp, arms out, legs hanging, hair draped over her face and pooling on the table—a girl well fucked and on display. She is satisfaction. And she is dripping with your cum.

She slips her fingers under her panties. That shrivelled piece of fabric that clings, or struggles to. Now she pushes them off her hips and they tumble over her feet.

When this beautiful girl speaks her voice has the distinct scratch of someone whose lungs have had the oxygen stolen from them, her throat sore with moaning, "I need more."

She moves to her back and you can only watch in amazement as she turns to you with that flush face. One of her small, delicate hands falling between her legs and her dainty fingers tracing around her cunt—through her pink folds, and dousing them in your leaking cum.

There's a knock at the door. It rattles in the frame. "Open up!" It's the voice of the young man seeking an afternoon drink. You think that, luckily, hopefully, between the blinds, the posters and the neon lights in the windows along with the dim lighting, he can't see in.

"Fuck off!" Minju shouts. Her chest is heaving, and there are the gentle lulls of a giggle welling in her throat.

You notice she hasn't moved the fingers away from her swollen and sticky cunt. There's a building cackle, almost as if she is going to fall into hysterics.

"Let me in! You should be open!"

"I said fuck off!" Minju's climbing from the table with a wild smile on her face. Cum is trailing from her cunt, pooling, oozing, dripping down her thigh, down her leg. Her tongue slides over her lips, she's eying you up like a tiger.

"I want to ride your thick cock." She's breathing the words out heavy and finally pulling that shirt over her head. Small round breasts exposed. Stiff dark nipples. Hard and taught. That bare torso. Tight and tone. Firm and solid. Every muscle defined under glistening, sweaty skin.

She pushes herself against you until you push between a pair of stools and your ass plants against the bar. "You made me a dirty girl, and now I can't stop."

You find her strength a little unnerving, the way seems so unphased and determined. She's running on pure adrenaline. It's hot, sure, a kind of raw passion is certainly not without appeal, but also maybe a touch too overpowering. The way that she grabs at you, a touch forceful, and the way you come together is perhaps too rough and less than elegant.

So unkempt, un-romantic, yet so insanely gratifying as her soft skin finds yours.

You take her body in your arms, lips on one another, exploring mouths with tongues. Grasping the round cheek of her ass as she lifts her left thigh up to your waist. Hand trailing between the two of you and then grabbing a firm hold of your cock, guiding the thing back to her pussy—and not letting go.

This is it. This is where she belongs.

It’s all so natural for her to be on the end of your cock, so much so that she can casually pull away from the kiss to switch her focus to finding a drink on the bar behind you. She’s taking a drink of it now and some of it spills from the corner of her mouth.There is something undignified in that, but utterly perfect nonetheless.

She's grinding against you now, swirling her hips and cooing like a little kitten, as your hands move over her ass and that silken smooth back.

Minju sets the empty glass back down on the bar, and pulls back to meet your eyes. She presses a finger to her tongue, her eyes gleaming and focused solely on you, as she guides a small, playful trail of drool to run over her glistening tits. "Fuck," she breathes through a grin, taking both her hands and smoothing that drool over her chest.

Another knock at the door. Another fist pounded into its frame.

All these fucking interruptions.

"Ugh! Fuck this. Come on, follow me." And before you know it, she's guiding you across the room. "I'm going to ride you until I can't walk. Until I'm so sore that every step will remind me what it felt like to have you deep inside me."

Your phone rings, on the floor in the pocket of your trousers. Who would call right now? Just as one interruption finally concedes at the door, another emerges.

Minju bends to fish it out of your trousers. Her little ass, one cheek marred with a handprint from your grasp, is so close you could bend forward and eat it (any other time, you would.) but it's not that which intrigues you the most. When she rises, slowly, your phone is in her grasp, screen displaying Wonyoung's name.

"This should be fun," Minju chuckles to herself. She swipes the answer button and raises the device to her ear. "Hello?"

Minju reaches out to hold your hand and pulls you toward the staff only door. "Sorry, he's a little busy right now," she says as she walks through the door with you in tow. Her head pivots. Minju stares, eyes boring deep into yours. That sultry expression. The spark of desire igniting all over again.

Minju turns on her heel, letting you go and taking a step back. Thin fingers stroke over her cum-soaked thigh, up and along her wet lips, higher and past her flat stomach, sliding between her firm tits. "He is really busy."

She points at the couch in the break room, gesturing you to sit. You oblige, a little nervous about the turn of events. She's rubbing at her perky little tits as she speaks, "do you want me to take a message?"

"Minju..." you say with warning, ready to take the phone off her. But it's so hard to ignore how utterly sexy she is, and your hand starts to stroke along your shaft. She turns her body and poses, looking over her shoulder to you, and she grins. Minju affords you all the time you need to admire her while she listens to the ramblings of Wonyoung through your phone.

Minju steps toward you, looking down at you. "You need to speak to him?" She rests a hand on your shoulder, and then she clambers over you, straddles you. Her leaking cunt right above your cock. She licks her lips and rubs her slick pussy over your stiff dick, eyes focused on you, head tilted down. "Give me one second."

She holds the phone against her collar and shifts above you, resting the tip of your cock against her hole.

"Minju, let me—"

She sinks onto your cock. 

Inch by pleasurable inch, she takes you. Minju rocks forward and adjusts to settle on the length of your rod. Fully hilted and stuffed. She's a slick sheath of velvet on your stiff rod and you realise then just how perfectly she fits on you. You bite your tongue, trying to not make a noise so you don't alert the woman on the other end of the phone. Minju, however, is careless, and she lets out a soft moan as she shifts on you, readying herself.

Cum still seeps out of her cunt and down your shaft—your own and hers in some messy cocktail. The smell is sharp but unmistakable. It hangs in the air as the unmistakable evidence of what has happened and what will happen again. It’s so potent; invigorating and exciting. A reminder of everything and more, as if you would ever forget it—as if you could ever forget what she has become for you.

Minju draws the phone back to her face and, with a cocky smirk parting her lips, she speaks again, her voice breathy and full of lust. 

"He's in a bit of a tight spot right now." She throws you a wink and continues, "give him ten—wait, no—give him fifteen minutes and whatever is left of him is all yours."

There's the sound of a voice coming through the phone, so unmistakably Wonyoung's but you can't make a word of it out. There's another sound, one much dirtier, that fills the air between the two of you. The soft squelching as Minju rocks and rotates those full hips on you.

"Sorry, what was that?" Minju is stifling a giggle and not-really trying to keep the naughtiness of the situation in check. "Yeah, Wonyoung,you’re right. It's me, Minju," she purrs, biting her lip as her eyes fix on you. Then her tongue flits from her lips, sweeping from left to right.

‘It's me, Minju.’

Look, it’s not really a surprise that they know each other well. It was always a possibility that Minju had just heard of Wonyoung but had never really been acquainted. Thinking back, however, the strength of her reaction to the girl’s name should have told you everything. The truth is now ever so clear. 

Not that Minju is going to let you process it. She will not allow you to focus on anything other than the caress of her pussy over your sensitive cock. She's elegant with the movements of her hips—the motions subtle and slow. Her pace is sinful. She's running her tongue over her teeth and staring at you, enjoying the quiet grunts that rattle from your throat.

"He showed up in—" Her breath hitches and she catches a moan in her throat before it escapes. "In the bar, drinking alone."

There's a gasp, then another as she strokes her hands through the locks of your hair. "Yeah. He was doing that." She's laughing under her breath and looking you up and down. "That thing with his hand, yeah, it's cute."

“What? No. I wouldn’t.” You’re getting half a conversation and none of it makes any sense.

She reaches out her hand to the side of your face, thumb brushing the line of your jaw and her body leaning in. "He's got a sexy jaw line," she admits and then picks up the speed of her movement. 

Her hand slides down your neck and presses into your collar. "His body?" Minju hums as her hips are churning; her body is rolling and her abs are flexing. "Yeah, I think so too."

Minju's back arches and her tiny tits bounce as her movement changes, bouncing rhythmically on your cock. She's adjusting and getting more comfortable on you. As the seconds pass, she's getting rougher and moving ever faster. 

Fuck.

"Well, he's drunk, so it's no surprise."

It's been no end of strange situations over the past couple of months, but this may well be the strangest yet. The girls are having a friendly conversation, but one is on top of a cock that's dripping with her mess.You're still trying to piece it together. They're friends—that much is clear. But there's still so many questions unasked: How? Since when? And why are they having their catch up right fucking now?

Her delicate frame moves fast now and the rise and fall of her chest growing sharper leading to short breaths.

"Mhm," she utters, keeping her voice low and words at a premium. "N—No we aren't." To give her credit, she's actually very good at sounding natural. In some twisted way, it's one hell of an audition for how talented of actress she can actually be. 

But that image comes crumbling down before your eyes.

Just for a moment, the picture freezes. Her mouth is half-open, eyes wide. She bites down on her lip, silencing herself, and then she drops her hand from her ear. She's hitting her fist, clenched around the phone, against her thigh repeatedly as she fights against her own body. There's another choked grunt as she is being pushed ever so close to the edge.

She draws the phone to her face again, breathing in deep and staring at you with those glossy eyes scanning all across your body, and she swallows. 

"We aren't fucking," Minju denies, as your hands creep up from her slender thighs, sliding over those beautiful taut hips, gripping tight and helping pull her back and forth. It's clear, from the way she bites down on her bottom lip, the subtle trembling of her chin, she's hanging on by a thread, ready to lose it at any second.

"No. Don't—" Minju holds the phone out, and she’s looking at it—you can see it too—Wonyoung has just ended the call. "Ah fuck it." Minju throws the phone down on the couch.

She looks at you with a face that's a little lost in thought, considering things unknown to you. All while her body is on auto-pilot, still fucking down onto you. 

After a moment, her face changes, an expression of indifference, of calmness. She smiles a little and rests both of her hands on your shoulders. Staring deep into your eyes, she grows ever more serious with a tinge of intent. She shifts from auto-pilot to manual, tightening the grip with her legs and slowing the pace, but fucking you harder.

Minju rides the ridge of your cock. Your whole length is dragged up and down her insides, setting every inch of you on fire. She moans every time she slams onto you. 

Every time. 

She's falling further apart in front of you—coming completely undone. Eyes rolling and biting that lip again. Hips shifting in all kinds of directions. A cacophony of beautiful grunting sounds that flood the room.

Minju is a woman derailed by pleasure.

"God. Your cock— Your cock is—" She's struggling now and you're only going to make it worse. Using the hands on her hips, you buck yourself up into her, bringing yourself a fraction closer each time. 

"The things this cock— the things you— fuck." Minju has no power to string any kind of sentences together, no matter how many words you force from her. They grow less and less like words you can understand until all that remains are these loud and unashamed gasps. 

Gasp after sharp and unstoppable gasp.

The rush of exhilaration courses through her, from the crown of her head to the tips of her toes. She feels it. All over. It's written on her face, in the way that she moves and in the look in her eyes. A look like that is a hard thing to fake, even for her—there's nothing else like it. Minju is cumming all over your cock and every bit of it is evident in every tense muscle, the quiver in the corner of her mouth, the sheen across her brow, the mist in her eyes as she blinks lazily and tries not to be overcome, overawed, with emotion and all the intense sensations, one wave after another, rippling through her.

You're just about there again too. You try to warn her, but you're fucking up into her with so much energy that you're not sure if the words ever left your mouth. But she knows it, somehow, because she has renewed aggression in her. Even through her orgasm, she's bouncing on your cock with such ferocity. Minju takes hold of your head and draws you into her. Nose to nose. Foreheads touch. "Cum in me again."

They're four of the best words she could have said.

She rides you faster still as you pump rope after hot rope into her cunt, your entire length filling her already overflowing cunt. You cum so hard inside her that the world seems to distort, twist, and wane.

"Yes! Yes!" she shouts in a whisper—her voice stolen by pleasure. "Fill my little pussy."

And with every last ounce of strength you have, you continue. Bucking into her, driving deeper with the last throes of your second load. It's too much. It's beyond pleasure and into pain now, as you have nothing left to give her.

You squeeze at her hips and waist, holding her down and doing everything you can to stop her fucking you.

You're panting. Tired. Done.

Done.

Minju raises herself just enough to slip that ruined and swollen cockhead from the depth of her. You watch as your combined fluids flow out of her onto your leg.

All that filth, a dirty combination of the two of you. Two loads of your cum drained into that one pretty pussy.

Minju is stroking a hand up your stomach, your chest, along your neck and jawline. Across your face and to your chin, so slowly, as if memorising your features.

You watch her body, so fucking perfect, flexing and trembling still and her breasts heave beneath sweat and exertion. Her breath is so ragged that a chuckle emerges between the hard, deep inhales and exhales. She's sweating, perspiration painting her body and strands of long hair matted to her head. So beautiful. Always so fucking beautiful.

She looks into your eyes, studying, thinking. "You feel better now," her voice has returned to the softness of before, low and sultry. "Don't you?"

With a smile, your hands move again, wandering further up. They snake their way around her slender waist. There's something strange, something new, about how they explore her—before, you were quick to set them and demand control. But not now. Now, it's tender and grateful and you have a slow, searching rhythm to the touches that skim the skin across her skin. 

"Yeah." It's honest. You do. She has done her magic, she has restored the balance, and the release has cleared a space within the self, within the mind. You stare back into her gaze, "thank you."

"No." Minju brings her head forward, her face almost colliding with yours. "Thank you. This is exactly what I needed, I really—" She bites down on her lips and hesitates. She pauses for a second before she begins to move herself off you. Standing up straight, wobbling for a moment on the spot before stepping off and the sticky remains of your fucking cling to her inner thighs, glistening on the flesh, thick and trailing down from her hole.

She stares at you for a moment in some profound silence. You sit on the couch, on that musty old fabric, fully spent and staring. She's searching for something, eyes drifting over the room until it catches her eye, and she heads right for it.

You find the strength to stand and as you do, you’re still watching the sway of her body—noticing each bounce of her perfectly formed butt. Your eyes linger, appreciating the body that was given to you, enjoyed by you, and that gave so much to you. Your strength slowly builds from within, your legs are sore, your stomach and core are aching, your lungs feel crushed.

She's fumbling around on the table for something, she's leaning over slightly, her thighs pressed together. She wears sex like a crown—the pride, confidence, and accomplishment manifesting in her natural glow. Minju radiates. There's always something so electric about a woman in the post coital haze.

"You smoke?" she asks.

"No."

"You should," she says as she turns, fishing one out of the pack and perching herself on the edge of the table, crossing over her legs. "Makes you less nervous. You might need it."

There's an elegance in the way she slips the filter between her lips. An attractiveness in the casual way that she places the box down. With practiced poise, she flicks her wrist with lighter in hand so it flips open and her thumb runs against the sparkwheel. Once, twice, and on the third go the light takes and the flame holds steady. Minju lights the end of the cigarette and leans in, taking a deep draw and holding it.

It's mesmerising to watch. The way her mouth closes around the stick, how the soft glow dances upon her features. A darkness in the hollows of her cheeks as the smoke fills within, while she flicks the lighter back closed and slides it on the table.

Minju tilts her head back as her lungs empty, billows and tendrils escape into the room.

In the silence, you've had some realisation.

Minju is cool.

Like— really cool.

So you stand naked, facing her, in the breakroom of the bar she... works in? Owns? Hell, you don't even know that. Doesn't matter. And you finally ask her, "how do you know Wonyoung?"

For a long moment she just smiles, blowing smoke towards you, teasing with silence.

"We go way back," she says, and that is hardly the complete answer that you've hoped for. 

Eventually, she offers more. "High school. We were friends." Minju studies the cigarette, eyeing the burning stub. "Guess you could say we were closer than that. Fuck. If not for—"

Silence.

And yet you wait.

"Well, there was this boy," she continues eventually, offering a soft and resigned smile. "My crush, and then my boyfriend. He was my first. First kiss, first date. First—" Minju looks over to the wall and inhales hard on the cigarette again. She breathes in slowly and you watch the small ember dance, the edges turning amber and glowing bright before she brings the cigarette down and flicks ash in the tray.

"What happened?" you ask, taking a seat alongside her on the table, pushing a cup aside to make space. It's not exactly hygienic, but nothing the two of you just did was.

"Wonyoung happened. Right before we left school, he left me for her and he thought he had a chance, but, well, you know Wonyoung. She's unattainable."

"You blame her?"

"Fuck no. But it didn't exactly bring us closer. He left me for her, she rejected him. What a mess."

There is always something when Wonyoung is in the picture, a messy little tangled web, something hidden behind those silky smiles. She's the reason for many lost loves and many lonely nights. You take a pause to appreciate that fact—to see what's really at the core. She’s the common denominator. Wonyoung—the arrogant heartbreaker.

"So what was all that about? On the phone?" you ask, trying to make some sense of it all.

Minju laughs aloud, tilting her head back and blowing smoke up towards the ceiling. She holds her cigarette between her slim fingers and rests her other hand on your thigh. "I wanted to play with her a little. I wanted her to know. Because well, and no offense, but you’re one of her possessions. She basically owns you. Don't get me wrong, it's kinda hot, but I wanted to see how she would react."

"So you teased her."

"Pretty much."

She laughs a little. There is some spark in her eye, born out of childish fun.

"Don't think she cares," you shrug.

You both turn toward the door that leads back into the bar. You both heard it. Out there. The knock against the front door of the bar.

Minju turns to you, crushing her cigarette into the ashtray beside her. There's a smirk on her lips and amusement in her eyes. In that look alone, there's a lot to unpack; there's an air of knowing, a glimmer of deviousness, and something else lurking beneath the surface.

"Then why is she knocking on the door?"

Next Part

[incarnadinedreams]

This isn't really new or anything but the more I reread random passages the more convinced I am that there's something very unique about the way Jiang Cheng reacts to Wen Ning and it's just so interesting!

I'm convinced it's more than just being angry. It's more than just hating him, or blaming him for Jin Zixuan's death or his sister's life. It's more than being a Wen, and it comes long before so many of those tragedies unfold anyway.

There's a sort of urgent, visceral reaction to Wen Ning's presence that just has this different feeling to it than how he reacts to any of the other characters. Even characters he has strong emotional responses to, it's never with the same panic or recklessness. It's not the same as the whole "vengeful wrath, fathomless hatred, or raving ecstasy" situation he's got going on with Wei Wuxian (sexy as that might be).

When it's Wei Wuxian, it's all "...well, well. So you're back?" and "Haven't you got anything to say to me?" Even when he's not being very nice, even when he's throwing teacups and furious at Wei Wuxian, there's still an edge of calmness in the way he lashes out. He's fucking mad but he's had more than a decade to think about this and he's got things to say and he's trying so hard to get a reaction from Wei Wuxian that he just won't give him.

But he can't tolerate having Wen Ning anywhere near him. Much of the time he instantly lashes out, physically, in ways to create space between them. He's mean to Wen Ning, but he doesn't really have much to say to him; he just wants to get away from him.

It really stuck out to me how instinctive and instantaneous and emotional that reaction is when I was reading this passage from chapter 81 (ExR translation since I've got it on hand in digital text form), when Jin Ling returns Zidian and rushes back into the fray during the Second Siege:

When Jiang Cheng was unaware, he stuffed Zidian's ring back into his hand and sprinted toward the crowd, all the way up to the most dangerous area before the mouth of the cave. Jiang Cheng was about to chase after him when he managed to slice a few corpses, staggering. He felt that Sandu was no lighter than hundreds of pounds. Two female corpses threw themselves at him from both directions.

Jiang Cheng cursed. As he lifted his sword again, another pair of hands tore the two corpses into pieces, "Sect Leader..."

Jiang Cheng lost his temper as soon as he heard the voice. He kicked Wen Ning away and cursed, "Get the fuck away from me!"

Obviously that is not very nice and poor Wen Ning didn't deserve a kick for being legitimately helpful there, but the point is that not only does he lash out - the reaction happens even when he's clearly got higher priorities going on in a chaotic situation. Throughout that entire event he reacts in a somewhat more even-keeled way to almost everything except Wen Ning being in his vicinity.

And it's not just after Wen Ning's death, not just after he became Wei Wuxian's greatest weapon, not just after he was forced to kill Jin Zixuan - it's specifically a pattern established from the moment he woke up in the Supervisory Office without a core:

Before he could say anything, those sun robes reflected against Jiang Cheng's eyes. His pupils suddenly shrunk.

Jiang Cheng kicked Wen Ning, toppling over the bowl of medicine. The black liquid all spilled onto Wen Ning. Wei WuXian wanted to take the bowl of medicine. He pulled up Wen Ning as well, who had been shocked speechless. Jiang Cheng roared at him, "What's wrong with you?!"

At this point he doesn't even know how he was rescued, since he was unconscious for all of that, and thinks they're in a Wen trap and likely going to die (or worse). But there's so many echoes of that interaction again, and again, and again between them.

And combined with Wen Ning's remarks during the scene just before this, where he tells Wei Wuxian about the discipline whip injuries and how Jiang Cheng 'should have other injuries as well', the way the narrative is so deliberately ambiguous on what exactly occurred, it all makes me want to crawl up the walls and gnaw on the light fixtures wailing WHAT DID YOU SEE, WEN NING?! WHAT DID YOU SEE?

At a minimum, Jiang Cheng knows that Wen Ning was there at Lotus Pier prior to his capture by the Wen guards, because they'd both seen Wen Ning examining Jiang corpses on the training field before they fled for Meishan.

But everything after that is only implication and subtext and suppositions and speculation, not directly stated in the text. But based on his reaction, you can pry my headcanon from my cold dead hands that that Wen Ning probably witnessed all or much of what happened to Jiang Cheng after he was captured, and Jiang Cheng knows it.

I've also posted before how I think there's an at least nonzero chance that Jiang Cheng was never directly told that Wen Ning wasn't actually there with Wen Chao when they saw him early on, but came later to try to help (because when Wen Ning gives Wei Wuxian that information Jiang Cheng isn't conscious, and nobody tells Jiang Cheng anything. I don't think that headcanon changes much either way, but there is a slight difference, at least emotionally, between 'I helped you while I was there to slaughter your clan and destroy your life' and 'I came when I heard my crazy cousin was slaughtering your clan and tried to help you' and I think it's a juicy thing to add to the pile of misunderstandings they each have of the other's motivations and actions).

Which, if I go with these two ideas together, really drives home what a bespoke and specific nightmare the way the Golden Core reveal played out - not only the substance of the reveal, but the fact it was Wen Ning who revealed it.

He was already furious that they were even there at Lotus Pier, particularly Wen Ning. But the way it all happens it feels like it's not just echoes of the amplified emotions of the confrontation with Lan Wangji & Wei Wuxian in the Ancestral Hall, it's not just Wen Ning being a Wen, or even Jin Zixuan's death, the way the narration calls out. It feels like there are deeper layers to it.

I also feel a bit stupid for not noticing before this probably extremely obvious to literally everyone else who isn't a dumbass like me parallel of Wen Ning getting a gruesome scorching whip mark across his chest at Lotus Pier in the course of saving Wei Wuxian (more or less, sort of - we know as readers Jiang Cheng was intentionally trying not to hurt them with Zidian, but I don't think Wen Ning knew that when he jumped in).

Jiang Cheng looked to find that the uninvited guest was Wen Ning. Immediately, he raged, "Who let you inside Lotus Pier?! How dare you!"

He could manage to tolerate others, but definitely not Wen Ning, the Wen-dog who put his hand through Jin ZiXuan's heart and ended both his sister's happiness and her life. Just a look, and he felt the urge to kill him right there. How dare he step foot on the earth of Lotus Pier—he really was looking for his death!

Because of the two lives and many other reasons, Wen Ning had always felt guilty, and so he'd always been somewhat scared of Jiang Cheng, consciously avoiding him all the time. Right now, however, he blocked Wei WuXian and Lan WangJi as he faced him, taking the hard lash. A gruesome scorch climbed across his chest, but still he didn't flinch.

I don't know that it actually means anything but it's making me FEEL THINGS incoherently at this specific moment, so. Also I find it legitimately sad that Wen Ning has to live with guilt over things that happened when he was controlled by someone else, though the scene before the Ancestral Hall when Jin Ling starts crying on the boat is probably a better example of that. Anyway.

It's just there's so, so many layers to how uniquely horrible it is for Jiang Cheng that he not only finds out about the Golden Core transfer this way, but also that Wen Ning, specifically, directly witnessed this life-shatteringly huge deception and sacrifice too - while Jiang Cheng was unconscious, no less.

And, well, we know how everything got capped off in that scene...

Obviously the shock of the information was going to get a huge reaction no matter what, no matter who or how he found out. Even without the Wen Ning element, it already hits every one of his deepest weaknesses and insecurities and fears.

But to come from the guy who'd witnessed his family being slaughtered, who'd witnessed who-knows-what humiliations heaped on him (who also happens to be the same fucking guy that Wei Wuxian thought it was worth leaving Yunmeng Jiang for, breaking his promise for...), the guy he blames for his sister's tragic fate (whether that blame is misplaced or not), the guy he exhibits a panic response towards even decades later, and goddamn.

There are just so many layers to this perfect little nightmare reveal on so many different levels aren't there?

There's just SO much meaty stuff for these two to dig into post-canon and all we get is an extra with a 'oh yeah sometimes Jiang Cheng yells on night hunts and Wen Ning is there' about it?!

I should probably just shut up and go read some Jiang Cheng and Wen Ning focused fics or something (whether romantic or platonic that's probably an area I really haven't explored enough vs. the amount of sheer interesting hints and material the novel gives to work with! If by some miracle anyone made it to the end of this beast feel free to drop any recs that explore them, especially that 'what did Wen Ning see?!' aspect of the whole situation because that is the current little brain worm haunting me right now).

[serpentarius]

been trying to wrap my head around the cancellation of "Our Flag Means Death" and why it hurts so fucking much. lots of folks who are much more eloquent than I have summed it up perfectly, but I still think it’s important I add my voice to the matter. 

It really, really sucks that the hurt is being compounded on us every time another queer/minority-led show gets prematurely cancelled. and for a long while, we also had to deal with the many shows that deliberately queerbaited us, which was a shitty and traumatic experience unto its own. And even though we’ve largely surpassed that early-‘00s-flavoured brand of queerbait now, mainstream queer media is still predominantly white-led. With the cancellation of OFMD, we've lost one of the very few intersectional queer shows in the mainstream. Shouldn’t we be beyond asking for crumbs at this point? Shouldn’t we get unabashedly intersectional shows helmed by and starring queer, BIPOC, and trans folks without them being axed for no rhyme or reason?

It’s exhausting at this point, honestly. OFMD has done so well in terms of viewership and engagement and fan response—almost entirely due to word of mouth and little thanks to the Max marketing team, mind you—and even still the show got cancelled? Can they make it make sense????

For me, the thing most akin to this OFMD situation was when Sense8 got cancelled. And yes, the fandom fought, and we eventually DID get a movie that wrapped things up years later! That gives me hope for OFMD, that maybe another network will pick it up, or maybe they’ll be able to make a movie someday. But what makes me sad about cases like Sense8 is knowing that the creators still had to force the narrative around the amount of time they were given. That the corporate overlords who only care about numbers and profit dictated how much time they had to wrap up their story.

And it fucking kills me that DJ only wanted one more season. One more season to complete the vision.

I'm just so mad that queer people are constantly being jerked around and used for profit and then left high and dry. And then we're given excuses like "oh there's no budget" or "oh there's not enough viewership, that's all it is". like, sure, maybe those are contributing factors, but then I look at all the useless garbage shows that have little viewership and high budgets that keep going forever and then I think "hmmmm, the math ain't mathing." It's fucking transparent; the corporations can spew all they want with their rainbow capitalism and talks about diversity, but the evidence is clear, and they can't convince me homophobia/racism/transphobia/etc. is not a factor in these decisions.

Anyways, back to OFMD. OFMD made me fall in love with fandom again. I drifted away from fandom for a while in my 20s, and while OFMD wasn't the first fandom that drew me back into the madness, it's certainly the largest. The sheer amount of creativity both within the show and outside of it has blown me away; I've read some of the best fics, seen some of the best art, and witnessed some of the most incredible creativity from people in this fandom.

And let's not forget the role of the show's creators and how they've interacted with us fans. They made us feel seen. And made us feel loved and valid, even when we were being weird and loud and horny. It's so fucking rare to see that. But they understood; understood that the show they made was for us, for any of us who've been marginalized or made to feel Othered or different or stuck in life or unsure of our identities. And they gave us so much love for it.

The story... man. The unique combination of quirky humour and bright visuals and dark, introspective moments, the gorgeous costumes and soft, lovely, unabashed queerness, and veteran actors and new actors all getting to shine, brilliant comedic actors getting to show off their dramatic chops and vice versa. For me, seeing Rhys Darby - an actor I've loved for a long time, but who I never thought I'd see in a leading role - getting to be the romantic lead in a queer role? And seeing acclaimed director/producer/screenwriter/actor Taika Waititi play opposite Rhys, as an indigenous Blackbeard? Fucking incredible. OFMD Edward Teach you will always be famous to me.

Anyways... despite my long ramblings here, I still don’t think I've been able to get to the root of WHY exactly this show has inched its way under my skin and stayed with me in the way it has. Maybe I'll spend years trying to understand it. But I DO know that it's in part to do with seeing both older queers AND a diverse range of queerness onscreen, in a way that I've never seen in media before. I DO know that OFMD has forced me to look inwardly, and allowed me to realize some important things about myself. About my own queerness, my own identity, things I'm still figuring out. I've cherished being able to see myself in Stede, in Ed, and each of the crew members. In Roach’s love for cooking, in Oluwande’s ability to mediate; in Jim’s quick temper, in the way Izzy builds walls to guard his heart. In Buttons’ quirkiness, in Wee John’s sass, in Frenchie’s ability to turn pain into humour; in The Swede’s silliness, in Lucius’ bluntness, in Pete’s soft heart beneath the skepticism. Lastly, OFMD has inspired me. To create, to write, to draw, to devour other peoples' works and worlds while I sit in sheer, overflowing joyousness at their talent.

so yeah. the news of this cancellation is upsetting and hurtful and disappointing. And it's making us cry, and it's making us grieve, and may make us hollow and numb at times because we've lost yet another thing we love so deeply before it was meant to go. It's so much more than "just a TV show". It means more to us than any passive mindless idiotic mind-numbing bullshit - because even though there's a time and a place and a purpose for that type of media, it's the thought-provoking work, the work that creators pour their entire hearts and souls into, that hit us deep in our own souls. The work that changes our lives. The work that has the ability to save lives, as I know OFMD has done for so many. 

please know I'm sending immense amounts of love and strength to those of you who are also hurting. we'll get through this, one way or another, and I'll keep up with the hope that we'll get more someday; but in the meantime, I'm holding you tight. ❤️️🫂

[pomogando]

IM BEGGING YOU. MORE ILLUMINA X READER PRETTY PLEAASE??? ^_^

How to Be a Human Being

Illumina doesn't want to admit he wants your attention

No real warnings, romance intended, Illumina is trying REALLY hard for you even if it doesn't seem like it. I hope I did him justice

Word count: 1,176

He doesn't understand your fascination with these.. Vile creatures.

You found it when you came home from work, just sitting on your bed. It was almost as if it was waiting for you. You didn't give it a second thought as you excitedly took it as your own. It reminded you of your favorite person after all.

This insulting mimicry of him was small and fat, eerily enough having his lone horn and wing along with his usual uninterested expression.

Illumina would never admit he was bothered by these pests. He would never expose that he had such childish feelings. He didn't want to show that type of weakness in front of anyone. Especially not you.

What's even more bothersome is that the damned beast seems to hate him for no clear reason, usually trying to nip his arm or growling if he spoke to you. When you weren't looking, he took the opportunity to berate it harshly, not that the beast seemed to care.

Yet despite all the flaws Illumina could dutifully list to you, you still thought they were the cutest thing.

That was the worst part. You loved them. He can't even get rid of them because the last thing he wants is to hear you upset at him. You were too nervous to talk to him as is.

That bothered him even more. He never minded when mortals couldn't look him in the eyes. He even relished in it, but you? Why were you scared of him? Maybe he was scared, too. Not that he would ever admit that. Definitely not. He'd die before he admitted he wanted your attention.

So, despite how badly he wanted to rip the marshmallow-like creature in half, he tolerated it for you. No matter how many times it nicked at his legs or purposefully got in the way of him trying to speak to you.

He didn't understand why he felt these useless feelings of jealousy. It's not like they could do anything to him. He was clearly better than this beast. You prefer him, he'd think.

...he still hates it. How childish.

He hated it even more as he watched you try to groom it. It squirmed in your grasp and whined as you tried to brush its silky fur. Your black shirt covered in white shed. "Calm down!" You scolded, "You're fine!" Not that it listened. It squealed while trying to escape your grasp. He didn't understand how you tolerated such bratty behavior.

At the sight of him, it immediately settled down in your lap. Illumina presumed it was to show off how much "better" it was compared to him. He huffed in annoyance.

Your voice brightened the room for him. "I didn't even notice you, lumi." You smiled at him. A moment of silence made you do a double take, thinking you said something wrong. "I-Illumina, I mean. Sorry, I've been scrambled recently.." You spoke nervously.

"I assume it's because of your new houseguest." He looked down at the critter, which was now attempting to bury itself into your shirt.

"How haven't you grown tired of it, I wonder." He leaned down to your level. Your eyes met his, he liked those small moments. You tilted your head. "Tired of them?" You questioned, softly pulling the creature's cheeks. That made him even more annoyed.

Sure, Illumina mentioned he didn't like physical touch, but why didn't you do it anyway? He knew it was irrational, but the least you could do was read his mind. Now you're replacing him with this putrid animal. How offensive to his very being that it was getting your affection.

"A pretentious yet unsightly creature.." He continued, cringing at it on your lap, licking its back leg (or at least, attempting to with its chubby body)."It doesn't even care about you. It doesn't listen." He bit his tongue back, almost adding how he could be better company. He didn't want to feel these types of feelings. They were insignificant and made him want to tear his heart out.

You got up and stood up next to him. The pale creature climbing off your lap and scurrying to his side. He still towered over you, making his wing flutter in a strange feeling. "I feel like you're too harsh to it. It's sweet in its own way."

He blinked, narrowing his eyes. "It's just a small freeloader," he felt the bean nip at his toga, making him even more agitated. "It has no respect for anyone." He lightly shook his leg to try and discourage the bean.

"That's not true. It just gets peckish when hungry. It turns into a cuddlebug once it's full." you said happily. "You should see, I took a video of it climbing into my bed when I wasn't paying attention." He felt stupid at how jealous he felt at these pests. He wasn't even paying attention as you looked through your gallery for the forsaken video.

You were about to show him the video when he spoke up, your phone falling to your side. "I just don't get it. Why would you love something that's like that? It's not like you need it when you have me-" His emotions spilled out without him thinking.

Your eyes widened as a small giggle left your lips. He paused. His cheeks turned pink, and it was very noticeable on his pale skin.

Illumina was used to mortals cowering at his feet, pathetic yet satisfying.

Yet here he was watching you laugh at his own foolishness. You loved him. How embarrassing for him.

Anyone else and he would've been quick to shut it down, but he liked your laugh. You rarely laughed around him.

He hadn't realized when the bean vanished. He was too focused on you. He didn't even notice he felt full again, as if a part of him had been separated for as long as the bean existed.

"It's.. I didn't know if you would enjoy that kind of thing." You spoke softly, making him feel even more flustered. "I mean, you're a deity, I'm just a.." You trailed off from your own embarrassment.

He hesitated to open his mouth. This was hard for him to say. You could tell by how Illumina looked as if he wanted to pull his hair out.

He fumbled his words, "perhaps, the wretched beasts MIGHT'VE been a subconscious manifestation of mine." He hated feeling like a fool in front of you, but he wasn't entirely against it. "And.. perhaps... I should be a bit more open with you about my own feelings."

"..I wish for you to treat me like any other mortal." He finally spoke, for once looking away from you. "Despite my own actions."

"..please."

He wasn't sure why he felt as if he felt like he needed to show how much power he held. He was scared of you seeing him as anyone else. But he also wanted it.

You put your hands on his cheeks, smiling. The touch made him jolt.

Illumina also smiled.

[kangshxrtie]

ch. 22 ⤍ PICK ME

you started your stream with your usual energetic greeting, glancing at the chat as it started to flood in with messages. you leaned back in your chair, smiling, ready to dive into the updates.

"so earlier today, i filmed this video with leeseo and wonyoung," you began, trying not to laugh too hard at the memory. "first of all, never let wonyoung behind the wheel—she scares me. she couldn't keep her hands on the wheel because she freaked out every time the car moved even a little. now, leeseo? that kid is wild. for some reason, she's actually good at driving." you paused for effect. "like, way too good for her age."

user1 idk who even let wonyoung behind the wheel. she's literally scared of driving.

you nodded, laughing softly. "i was wondering the same damn thing," you replied, shaking your head.

🗡️k_a_z_u_h_a__ when do i get to drive you? 😏

you raised an eyebrow at the comment. "you driving? should i be scared?" you teased.

🗡️k_a_z_u_h_a__ of course not. i'm a great driver!

"i don't know... should i let zuha drive me around?" you asked your chat, knowing exactly how they'd react.

user2 hell no

user3 run yn

user4 ur def not making it out of that one

🗡️k_a_z_u_h_a__ i love being a mod. there's so much power here.

🗡️k_a_z_u_h_a__ i'm banning everybody who said i can't drive!

you couldn't help but laugh at her response. "you can't just ban my whole chat, zuha!"

reinyourheart wait how is kazuha a mod b4 me? i've known u longer

🗡️k_a_z_u_h_a__ 🤷🏻‍♀️ i'm just good like that.

🗡️_yujin_an damn imagine not being a mod

reinyourheart even yujin

reinyourheart she prob doesn't even use it

🗡️_yujin_an actually 🤓☝️ i use my mod powers all the time to run polls. i'm also an og y/n sub so i got mod

reinyourheart y/n plz mod me since apparently you're just giving mod to anybody these days

"i don't trust you enough to give you those privileges."

reinyourheart but u trust yujin???

"well, not really, but she's our leader," you joked.

reinyourheart banning u from my chat now

"that's fine, i never watch your streams anyways," you quipped, earning a playful gasp from your chat.

reinyourheart 😮 fake

"i'm joking. please don't actually ban me," you said, breaking into laughter. as your giggles faded, your eyes caught an interesting question in the chat.

user1 what type of person do u want to date?

the question made you pause for a moment. "i've actually been thinking about this a lot recently," you admitted.

you leaned forward, ready to dive into your answer. "so, first of all, i like someone with a cool and relaxed personality, but they also need to be bright enough to make me laugh—even with the corniest jokes." as you said this, your thoughts drifted toward someone in particular.

🗡️k_a_z_u_h_a__ i feel like i can satisfy those requirements

you chuckled softly but kept going. "i also want to date a morning person, so they can help me fix my sleep schedule."

🗡️k_a_z_u_h_a__ i hate sleeping in

"i really hope they can speak japanese too, 'cause i wanna visit japan so badly."

🗡️k_a_z_u_h_a__ me

you grinned, ignoring her comments for now. "another odd requirement—i want them to be good at ballet. it's a talent i just really admire."

🗡️k_a_z_u_h_a__ me 🙋🏻‍♀️

"oh, and if they look like bae suzy, that's a huge bonus," you added with a nostalgic smile. "she was my ideal type when i was younger."

🗡️k_a_z_u_h_a__ pick me! choose mee!

"and another weird one—they need to randomly start stretching or doing squats whenever they feel like it. bonus points if they have abs. that's just..." you sighed dramatically. "so hot."

🗡️k_a_z_u_h_a__ i literally fit all the requirements

you finally broke, laughing as you read her string of comments. "i don't know if anybody can really line up to all these standards," you shrugged playfully.

🗡️k_a_z_u_h_a__ am i even here rn 😞

"y'all, if you know someone who meets all these standards, let me know," you told your chat, laughing at how many people were either playing along or just laughing at the interaction.

🗡️k_a_z_u_h_a__ chat suggest me #ynxzuha

🗡️k_a_z_u_h_a__ imma start banning ppl that type any other name

"you can't threaten my chat like that, zuha," you chuckled, reading her messages aloud.

🗡️k_a_z_u_h_a__ chat she noticed me

you shook your head, smiling. "but since you're here, what do you think of all these suggestions?"

🗡️k_a_z_u_h_a__ idk but i think that kazuha girl is pretty cool. i think u wld like her

you pursed your lips in thought. "hmm... i don't really know. i'll have to think about that one."

🗡️k_a_z_u_h_a__ trust

"i guess i'll trust you," you said, playing along. "but what are you doing right now? you should join me."

🗡️k_a_z_u_h_a__ i cant im filming leniverse rn

you gasped. "what do you mean? stop watching me and go film!" you teased, mock-scolding her.

🗡️k_a_z_u_h_a__ we good. they're not rdy yet

"alright, just don't get into trouble because of me."

🗡️k_a_z_u_h_a__ talking to u is more important tho :/

🗡️k_a_z_u_h_a__ nobody tell chaewon i said that

"there's a reason i act the way i do—it's because she says stuff like this," you said with an exaggerated sigh.

🗡️k_a_z_u_h_a__ i miss u lets hang out soon

"we literally hung out yesterday," you reminded her, laughing.

user5 u did?

user6 i miss when y/n updated us

you nodded, leaning into the camera. "yeah, because we filmed the collab!" you added, catching yourself before revealing too much. "when will that be posted, zuha?"

🗡️k_a_z_u_h_a__ shld be posted next week

"okay, tell your team to edit me well," you said with a grin.

🗡️k_a_z_u_h_a__ i will.

🗡️k_a_z_u_h_a__ i hv to film now talk l8r

"bye, zuha!" you waved dramatically, just as you got a perfectly timed message from yujin that she was almost ready.

"so, today we'll be playing games with yujin, who should be here soon," you announced to your chat. no sooner had you said it, you heard the familiar ping, signaling that yujin had joined the call.

"y/n, why didn't you warn me?" yujin exclaimed, her voice full of exasperation.

you blinked. "what do you mean?"

"leeseo just showed me what you all did in the video today."

"oh, that! yeah, she's crazy with it," you laughed, remembering the madness.

"she was all like, 'you wanna see what i learned?' and i'm thinking, sure, why not—'cause i'm actually curious about what y'all filmed. next thing i know, she reverses fast and does a freaking j-turn. i've never been so scared in my life."

"she did it first try, too. i was just sitting there, in shock."

"i just wish i had talked to wonyoung first," yujin muttered.

"i'm so glad you're the driver in the group. no way we'd be alive if wonyoung was behind the wheel."

"oh, absolutely," yujin agreed quickly. you both laughed before getting connected to the game, ready for the chaos that would follow.

zuhasgf connected

as soon as yujin's character appeared in the game lobby, you rolled your eyes, and immediately opened the menu, kicking her out without hesitation.

"alright, i'm in the game," she announced, unaware of what you'd just done.

"huh? y/n, did you just kick me out?" yujin's voice sounded confused.

you tried to act innocent. "wait, why'd you disconnect?"

yujin groaned, realizing. "you literally just kicked me."

"i think you need a new username," you replied.

"i can't get back in—did you ban me?" yujin chuckled.

"don't blame me because you can't get in the game," you said.

zuhasgf connected.

you immediately kicked her out again, this time banning her completely.

"y/n!" yujin yelled in disbelief.

"i told you to make a new username. i'm not accepting this one," you said firmly.

"just unban me!" yujin demanded, still laughing.

"are you trying to join with the same character?" you asked.

"yeah, did you unban me?"

"...of course," you lied smoothly.

once yujin finally decides to change her name back to normal, you two load into the game, the screen fades in, revealing your pirates standing confidently on a dock, the vast ocean stretching behind them, with a rugged ship rocking gently in the harbor.

"i don't have a shovel, so you're gonna have to do all the digging," yujin lazily announced.

"yujin, if you don't put some type of work in, i might actually fight you," you shot back.

you walk off in the opposite direction when you spot something off in the distance. "there's a ship here," you inform yujin.

she started her pirate roleplay. "arghh! i'm on my way!" yujin replied in a raspy pirate accent, rushing toward the ship with exaggerated enthusiasm.

suddenly, your screen started shaking violently. "what was that?" you muttered, trying to steady your view.

on the other end, you could hear yujin losing her mind, screaming incoherently. there were no actual words, just pure panic as she mashed buttons in a futile attempt to do... something.

while yujin flailed, you spotted an ocean crawler emerging from the sand. remaining calm, you casually pulled out your gun and shot it. meanwhile, yujin continued screaming in terror about something you couldn't even see.

then, out of nowhere, yujin set off an explosion—right next to you. the entire screen flashed red as both you and the surrounding enemies were blasted back.

"oh my god, yujin! what the fuck!" you yelled, your health bar dangerously low as you quickly ate some food to recover.

"you're welcome!" yujin chirped, completely ignoring the fact that she had almost killed you along with the monsters.

the battle ended, and you both wandered around the island, eventually stumbling upon a mysterious shipwreck. a spectral pirate appeared out of thin air, launching into an overly dramatic speech about ancient pirate lore.

"this is actually the longest speech i've ever heard. argh," yujin groaned.

you decided to pull out a ukelele from your inventory. yujin, never one to be outdone, joined in with her singing about finding the pirate captain, her voice cracking from the strain of trying to stay in character.

later, while you were still outside playing music, yujin's shrill voice pierced the calm.

"three ghost ships!" she shouted.

"let's go. we must go on an adventure!" you replied, dramatically diving into the water, heading for the ghost ship, determination in your heart.

however, as you swam, the tide came in, forcefully pushing your character back. you struggled against the current, while yujin, oblivious, had already made it onto your ship and was sailing away.

"yujin! get your ass back here!" you screamed, frantically swimming after the ship. "i'm literally sinking!"

after what felt like an eternity, yujin finally circled back for you. gasping for breath, you managed to pull yourself up onto the deck.

relieved to be back on board, you stood at the front of the ship, surveying the ocean ahead. you felt the wind in your face, the waves crashing against the hull. surely, yujin could be trusted to steer the ship... right?

but then you noticed something alarming. "yujin... we're gonna crash into this rock!" you said, your voice tense.

"anchor!" yujin screamed, but it was far too late. the ship slammed into the rock.

"we're gonna die on this ship. not even from the battles, it'll be from your terrible driving," you groaned.

"naww, we're good," yujin said confidently, somehow managing to reverse the ship and sail around the obstacle, acting like nothing had happened.

you decided to climb up to the ship's bowsprit, balancing precariously on the beam as the ship cut through the waves. "is standing up here a good idea?" you asked, already knowing the answer.

"argh! of course it is!" yujin replied without hesitation.

"is playing music as we go into battle a bad idea?" she asked, joining you upfront with her accordian, strumming an out-of-tune melody.

you pulled out your ukulele from the inventory, matching her energy, and for a moment, it was peaceful—just two pirates making music.

then, without warning, the water around you started to churn. from the depths of the ocean, a massive kraken emerged, its tentacles towering above your ship.

both you and yujin screamed in unison as chaos ensued. you were flung into the water but somehow kept playing your ukulele, refusing to let the music die.

"it's sucking us in!" yujin shouted, her voice on the verge of panic. "load the cannons! we gotta fight this off!"

"can we even fight this thing?" you asked through fits of laughter, doubting your chances.

you quickly switched to the cannonballs, aiming at the monstrous tentacles, firing off shots as fast as you could. you felt like you were making progress, but then you noticed the ship was being dragged deeper into the abyss.

your screen flickered and went dark with a red outline. "what is even happening?" you groaned as your character faded into the ghostly realm.

as a spirit, you wandered aimlessly, spotting another figure. thinking it was yujin, you approached, only to realize it was a random player—a man who's character gave you a casual nod.

"later, dude," he said, disappearing into the void.

you eventually respawned back with yujin, both of you standing on the remains of your ship, now just floating debris in the ocean.

"well, that was a great sea of thieves adventure. we lost everything," yujin said, pulling out her accordion.

you pulled out your ukulele, shaking your head but smiling. "yeah, it was great."

"the fucking kraken..." yujin muttered.

"literally right before the pirate ship, too," you said.

"literally the most random shit," she added, laughing.

"crazy," you agreed, both of you still basking in the aftermath of the chaos.

"anyway, i guess we have to end here," yujin said, the energy winding down.

"yeah, we do," you agreed, starting the stream wrap-up.

you exited the call with yujin, turning your attention to chat. "alright, chat, it's about that time," you said, leaning back in your chair with a relaxed smile. "i'll be live tomorrow for some more games, maybe with a few friends, but i haven't locked anything in yet."

you glanced at the chat as messages rolled in, then continued. "also, keep an eye out—our channel's dropping a new video soon, so make sure to check that out when it's up. but yeah, that's all for today!"

you gave a casual wave. "thanks for hanging out, and i'll see you next time." with a final smile, you ended the stream.

ALL CHAPTERS !!! | NEXT CH !!!

[eluxcastar]

This is so silly: Fatui Harbingers receiving a bouquet of flowers from their shy s/o?

Harbingers receiving a gift from their s/o

── ୨୧：harbingers x reader

୨୧﹑synopsis :: it's exactly what's written on the tin but with a side of me being off my head again

୨୧﹑content :: gn reader

୨୧﹑words :: 950

I'm so in love with the requests that let me answer them like a crackhead. but also I'm so sorry to the anons who want me to be serious I've just got the sillies. I spent the entire time calling it a pot until I realised the thing I was actually referring to is a vase and had to go back and change it all

if you're wondering where the shy part went, it was lost to this phenomenon called "I can't read" and by the time I realised it said that I was already done. I feel like this is the second time it's happened.

Alright usual order Tartaglia first. I'll be honest; I have no clue. Like, I literally left his here just saying, "Alright usual order", because what the FUCK would he do. He doesn't seem like a flower person, but also it being his s/o changes that so much because his s/o might make him a flower person. You could guess his favourite colour is yellow and suddenly it's yellow because he's so normal for you. He didn't even like flowers, but omg, you got him flowers. These are his new favourite flowers ever kinda thing.

Next is Arlecchino (more food is coming I promise), and tbh, I feel like she'd enjoy receiving flowers. It's not an overly flashy gift, and it probably took a lot for you to go out of your way to get that for her, let alone give it to her. She appreciates that you would get her a gift at all because receiving gifts feels nice sometimes. You can have a kiss for your flowers.

Third would be Pantalone, whose I kinda answered. Flowers are a gift, and honestly, I love the idea that as long as the gifts have sentimental value, that's what he'll treasure the most. He's gonna display those in his nicest vase for people to see. Why would you be nervous about that? The thought of what people think of them? No need. Nobody critiques his decor and means it. They know better.

La Signora would appreciate them, but they gotta be nice, yk? And like, you've gotta pay attention. There's no point if you just get whatever's available. Does she like those kinds of flowers? Do they smell nice? Compliment their surroundings? It's in the details that say you care because, to her, it means you were paying enough attention to consider it for what is a very standard gift for many people.

I did Scara then realised I forgot Sandrone omg anyway flowers, she would love those in her own silly little way. They're nice, and it's so cute that you went to the effort that she might just smile at you. She's 100% gonna keep those to herself and just stare at them for a while because someone got her a gift (this basically never happens) (if it did who the fuck are they?? unimportant 🙄)

Aight we got Scaradouche. Firstly no way this man is going to let you immediately know you got him a gift he likes. Flowers? That's such a girly present to give someone 🙄🙄 (They'll be in a pot on his dresser within the hour). He wouldn't usually want flowers, but since you already went and got them, he'll just have to. Just a little, I think he'd be losing it on the inside, kinda like when someone says they're so normal about something, and you know they're fucking lying. Like that

I totally missed Pulcinella last time, so he can get some flowers now. Honestly, I can see why I forgot him. I probably intended to do him but didn't have an idea and was like, "I'll come back to it", then got hit with this thing called filthy liar syndrome. Old people like flowers so he'd be happy with that, something nice to add some colour to a room or something Idk I'm not old (I'M SORRY I'LL BE SERIOUS). Some of you have no grandfather OR father you just like me fr so I'll throw in for y'all that he'd be proud of you for picking out such a nice gift and acquiring it of your own accord (which you are capable of) because it must've been difficult to get past the initial conversation starter problem.

Already off that train, we're finally at Capitano. I can't say for sure cause he has two lines but tbh, he seems like he'd like it. You can have a nice pat on the head and everything cause aww you went to all that effort just for him? That deserves a nice cuddle ❤️

Columbina thinks of it like anything else you do, more confused as to what the occasion is than anything and not very sure what provoked you to do this, but she accepts it and thanks you nonetheless because she still does like it. She just also wants to know what you're doing and why, but she's satisfied with the answer that you just wanted to and cuts you off before the apologies if she doesn't like it.

What the fuck did you get Dottore flowers for?? Like, what would he do with them?? That's awkward. He'll take them off your hands, but after that, he kinda just 🧍 because what else does he do? He can look at them and sit them somewhere, but like they have no purpose. The effort is nice. He probably doesn't want these again tho unless he can use them for something. You'll get a thanks, but like he's kinda bad at hiding that he's got no idea what to do with it. Get him some flowers that are useful rather than decorative maybe?

We are at Pierro, and I think it's a bit of a mix. On the surface, he may seem like he doesn't want them and only accepts them to save your feelings but secretly treasures them ❤️ I like the idea of him being sentimental toward his s/o because something about it is just cute. It also matches the vibe, like, he's got a very closed-off exterior that you are used to that's meant to hide that adorable and undeniably vulnerable interior that really, really loves you and all of the things you do for him.

[literatureloverx]

To frame this analysis, I want to first point out a letter written by fyodor. For a letter most don't have access to, it puts into perspective a LOT about fyodor's character that was previously only speculated through analysis. It was given out during the manga's 10 year anniversary, you can search it up by typing 'fyodor letter bsd'.

But I will copy it here: "I have nothing to say. There is no one who supported me anyway. That's why there is no word I have to say. To anyone at all. Let alone words of celebration. It is impossible. I have always been alone. And that is fine by me. Has been, and always will be. Well... I felt a little less bored when I was playing chess with Dazai-kun. But that's it."

Now this points out something especially interesting, that out of all the people that served him, all the people who worshipped him through his manipulation, for hundreds and hundreds of his years of living, Fyodor found no substance through any of it. Fyodor is lonely, inevitably lonely not only because he has never let anyone into his mind (and uh. Not many people want to hang out with the guy who straps bombs onto kids), but because near nobody can understand him because, as pretentious as it sounds, he lives in a realm of "genius".

Fyodor lives in a world of sin that he sees himself as above, and wishes to find the book and write a "correct" world under God where there is no sin. And he also lives in a world he is bored of because nobody can challenge him. He explicitly uses the word "bored" in his letter. He is never shown to "like" his servants being completely submissive for pleasure, he just does it because he cannot trust anything straying. Now does this mean Fyodor wants to control those around him? Yes. Does this show that Fyodor finds this obedience engaging? No.

The only person he has shown interest in (not in a romantic way) is Dazai, who is the only one who can level at his playing field. This makes me wonder, is Fyodor's "type" someone far from who he would actually fall for? I feel that to grow interested in someone, Fyodor needs someone who can challenge him. Someone out of his control because they understand him on a level that others cannot, because they are on his equal. Fyodor left his life of boredom through one-sided "companionship" with Dazai.

Note: I find it kinda pathetic of Fyodor to seem so eager about their meet-ups too, since Dazai seems to hate it LMAO

Now I can see Fyodor WANTING to control someone for that safety net and I definitely can't see him going out of his way to get with someone if they're in the way of what he's after, no matter how much he loves them. Bro straight up tries to kill his favorite "chess partner". But it seems that if Fyodor ever wants to pursue a GENUINE relationship, he needs to leave his comfort zone because the only ones who will give him substance will be far outside.

This wasn't meaning any hate or anything, I just wanted to point out traits about Fyodor's character that i've observed, but also to hear your thoughts :D

(Also I can see Fyodor falling for not only someone who can challenge him but someone with a great love for humanity and empathy)

Wow, this was so detailed and awesome to read! Thank you very much for writing this. ❤️

I will break down my perspective on this analysis as you asked me to, but I can say that I agree with most of your points. ❤️

First of all, I know the letter you’re talking about. It actually made me sob for a while when I first read it. I felt the loneliness almost in my own body—the situation he’s in must be so dehumanizing for him.

That being said, I considered many of Asagiri’s explanations about the characters (the letter you cited, the one about White Day, their ideal types, etc.) and formed my interpretation of Fyodor this way.

I absolutely agree with the point that Fyodor is bothered by boredom and that he needs someone who can challenge him.

The question here is, what kind of challenge?

In this case, my point was: someone who can challenge him emotionally (as this is an underdeveloped aspect of his, since he really doesn’t have much opportunity to form meaningful connections with others). Not someone who matches his own mastermind (like Dazai, for example). He values Dazai's ability to read his mind but is not particularly invested in any kind of connection besides that of rivals since he can’t trust him. There is no longing for friendship (a meaningful connection) there. Just Do, Do, Do, and win.

Now, I also believe, like you said, since his motives are not bound to himself but rather the greater good of humanity, the most important thing for him to do is indeed—to win. How is he supposed to cleanse humanity of their sins otherwise?

Where my interpretation differs from yours is that I genuinely think he is very comfortable with being the lead in any kind of situation. What he is uncomfortable with is—guess what? Vulnerability, in general. Just like Dazai. And the most challenging vulnerability to overcome, in my interpretation, would be emotional vulnerability.

In my opinion, he would be interested in someone who can challenge him mentally but not strategically. He knows that feeling. It is true that Dazai quenches his thirst for competence and competition in that sense, but is such a person truly fit for Fyodor?

My main issue with a strategically competent partner is the high possibility of Fyodor never being able to fully trust her. I’ve read many headcanons and fanfictions about him and such a partner, but it never really clicked in my mind.

The aspect of him preferring an intelligent individual over a shallow one is, I think, a very common perception of his character in the fandom, which I wholeheartedly agree with.

But: emotional intelligence is a very powerful aspect of intelligence, as well.

Him wanting to control her for security reasons is absolutely valid in my opinion and interpretation too, since it was what I meant in the first place anyway. He wouldn’t manipulate his partner just for the sake of it—he is too deep of a character for that.

Overall, I hope I haven’t missed any of the aspects you were referring to. I’ll gladly edit my post if anything is missing! ❤️

In conclusion, I LOVED your analysis. I’m very glad when someone makes me think deeper about my own thought process and interpretations. Anything of that kind is deeply welcomed and appreciated! ❤️

To read my other works => MASTERLIST

[gavisuntiedboot]

Whenever you have the time could you write about Gavi with a gf that is a bit reserved and touch starved, her love language is physical touch but she doesn't initiate it with Gavi because her ex always told her she is clingy and annoying so she's insecure about it, so Gavi tries to show her it's okay by always cuddling her, or touching her in any way. And then over time she starts to initiate the cuddling/touching and Gavi is so proud and happy because she finally feels comfortable with him

Your writing is amazing btw, I've decided to wait for you to finish Just Pretend completely to continue reading it because whenever I finish the last chapter you post I get so sad because the next one isn't out yet and I can't live in the agony of not knowing what happens next

Pls hold my hand

"Princess, why do you have a sweatshirt that says ‘clingy’ on it?”

You looked over to Gavi, who plopped himself down on the couch next to you, grabbing the remote to cue the Netflix show the two of you had been watching for the last several weeks, eager to finally watch another episode, as the two of you held your shared series’ to a sacred standard. With only two episodes left of the latest “Drive to Survive”, you didn’t want to delay the experience with too much conversation.

"Just and inside joke between me and my friends.” You said, avoiding eye contact and focusing on the bag of m&m’s in front of you.

“Your friends think you’re clingy?” He asked, turning to face you as his hoodie slipped from his head, messy brown locks on full display. One of the things you adored about Pablo was how much he was always trying to protect you and look out for you. You weren’t really be confrontational, and this lead to some mistreatment and being pushed over at times by those close to you. Well, you used to. Since you and Pablo started dating about 8 months ago, he had been there to defend you against people who wanted to take advantage, and often was the voice reminding you to stick up for yourself.

“No no, it’s not them. It’s … something to do with my ex boyfriend. Do you still want to know?”

Gavi tensed at this. Despite you never saying anything explicitly negative about your boyfriend, all the stories Gavi heard made him hate the man with a burning passion. He had slowly but surely messed you up in so many ways, and now as Pablo worked to slowly unravel the knots tightened around your heart, he couldn’t help but curse the man that tied them to begin with.

“Yeah. You can tell me.”

You shifted in your seat, rather uncomfortable with the topic, but not wanting to lie to your boyfriend.

“Well, remember that little love languages quiz I made you do? Well I did mine like years ago, and I got physical touch. Which makes sense right because that’s one of yours and we seem to be getting along pretty well.” Gavi giggled at this, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and causing you to tense.

“Well, my last boyfriend wasn’t super into like… touching? Fuck that sounds sexual. I mean he didn’t really like being touched or cuddling or all that couple stuff. Didn’t like holding hands either. And like this one time, he was watching something on his computer and I was feeling bold or whatever and tried to sit on his lap — he hated that though. He liked pushed me onto the floor and told me to stop being clingy.” You forced out a laugh, trying to lighten the mood and soften the look of horror that had occupied Gavi’s face.

“That was actually why I broke up with him. Anyways I didn’t hug any of my friends for a month after that, and when they finally confronted me and I told them why, they got this made me for me. See, look at the sleeve,” you said, stretching out your arm to show him the ‘pls hold my hand’ embroidered on the sleeve. “So now whenever I’m in my clingy sweatshirt, my friends give me a ton of hugs and stuff. It’s funny. I think.” You say, winching slightly by the fact that Pablo’s eyebrows are still pushed together in anger.

He muttered his grievances about your boyfriend while cuddling closer to you, pulling you into his chest. Your cheeks warmed as they were pressed against Gavi’s beating heart. Despite the long time you had been dating Pablo, you still were shy when it came to initiating any sort of affection. You were too scared of annoying him and pushing him further away. So you remained shy and reserved, only responding to the touches he initiated.

“Give me your hand, silly. Never been with a girl who came with instructions before. Maybe I should get you a pair of panties that say-“ his sentence abruptly ended with a pillow to the face. You giggled, trying to pull away from his grasp, but he just pulled you closer, wrapping both arms around you now.

“Oh no no princesa. You’re not going anywhere. Now hush and make mean comments about Verstappen with me.”

~

Over the next few weeks, Pablo had made an active effort to make you more comfortable with being physical with him. Whenever the two of you were out, he held your hand or had you two link arms. He hugged you and kissed you on the cheek or forehead, asking, “you don’t want to give me a kiss back, Amor?” Puppy dog eyes and adorable pout on display, you coyly returned the peck to his jutted out lip. He smiled widely, teeth almost blinding you. He returned with an attack, kissing you across both cheeks, and ending with a searing kiss to the lips.

His favorite time was when you two watched shows together. He would always pull you in close, cuddling with you next to him on the couch. He would lean close and whisper his comments about the show into your ear, making your skin erupt in goosebumps as his breath famed over. He would press kisses into your temples, breathing in the sweet smell of your hair, and reminding you how much he loved being around you.

“You’re so warm amor - my personal furnace. I love it.”

“Your skin is so soft, feels so nice.”

“I wish I never had to get up from beside you.”

After three weeks of hand holding, kisses, and encouragement, you finally found the confidence to approach Gavi to heal your touch starvation. You put on your clingy hoodie again, laying out snacks on the coffee table and firing up her Netflix.

“Princesa I’m here! Where are you?”

Running to the door, you wrapped both arms around Gavi’s neck, pulling him into you and greeting him with a firm kiss. As he recovered from the unexpected greeting, you informed him that you would be in the living room pulling up a new series. He followed closely after kicking off his shoes, and peeling off his Barca jacket, picking up the hoodie you had laid out for him.

“Did you change shampoos? Used to be peach and now it’s strawberry.”

“How could you tell?” You asked, grabbing some drinks as Pablo got comfy on the couch. He crossed his arms across his chest, legs spread and back slumped.

“My clothes smell different around the shoulders. That’s usually where your wet hair sits.” He looked over at you, watching your eyes go wide. “Amor, you know I love you, stop being surprised when I actually act like it. Now what are we watching?”

Taking a deep breath, you walked back over. You grabbed the remote, pressing play.

“The new season of Black Mirror is out and I’m dying to see it. Heard this one is creepier than normal.” As you explained, you walked over to Gavi. Before he could move to make space for you on the sofa, you draped yourself over his lap. Your legs were to his side, back pressed to his chest. Your arms wrapped around his torso, and you laid your head on his shoulder. ‘Deep breaths it’s okay he’s not going to push you off.’

Pablo was stunned for a moment, so much so that he remained motionless. Once the shock wore off and he felt your slight tremble, he brought his muscled arms around you, pulling you tightly against him, soft lips pressing to your pulse point and freeing a soft gasp from your throat. He rested his head atop yours, the pressure and warmth comforting and familiar.

“Look at you being bold cariño. If I knew it would get you to sit in my lap we would’ve done this months ago.” You giggled softly in response, turning to face him. You rested your forehead against his, gazing deeply into the deep brown pools of his eyes. Leaning in, his lips eagerly met yours, refusing to release you. When you finally pulled away, you resumed your comfortable position in Pablo’s embrace. “I’m so proud of you, princesa.” The two of you fell into s comfortable silence, enjoying the show, squeezing each other tighter whenever things got intense.

“Can I get a matching clingy hoodie for whenever I want cuddles?” Pablo asked, smiling at you from above.

“I don’t think so, Pablito. You would never take it off.”

~~~

Guys I have the worst headacheeeeee but yay I posted!

[sprinklenoodles]

I'm baaaaack! I got a doozy of a piece too! For The Heir of Despair!

Read all that was there and I am here to share my thoughts in a slightly coherent way! Sorry in advance if I repeat myself! First, Byakuya, my boy. Oh my gosh are you an irredeemable prick! I say this in a good way by the way! Like, you wrote him good in the sense that I am routing for his downfall in some way and was very excited near the end when he slightly didn't get his way. Bravo! You have succeeded in making me dislike my boy! (I still love him <3) But, anyway, reading what's here really got my brain thinking! Like, what might happen with Byakuya and Junko. In fact, Here's a lightning round of fun little questions that make my brain do acrobatics in a skating park! Not for answering of course! That's be lame! I must expel these out though haha!

There! Got it out of my system!! As for some other thoughts, I enjoy the canon divergences! Obviously the main gimmick is itself one, but you get what I mean! Also, I have no way to segway into this but I was no joke quoting and spouting a bunch of goofy crap and like, I can't just NOT give a peak into the innerworkings of my mind. So, here. Take those and a bit of tidbits on the context I said them in. "Leave that little guy alone!" - Said mostly for Chihiro and Makoto, both when Byakuya was manipulate, mansplain, malewife-ing his way through existence. Less malewife though. Or scratch it. No malewife-ing for him. Not in this time line u_u "Byakuya! Have you learned nothing!" - Just any time Byakuya was doing stuff I found worthy of mocking him for. Might have to re-read everything to find the specifics cus I unfortunately did not count those moments in a spread sheet T-T "You're no good, Byakuya! You'll never be shit! You're just like your father!" - I find this one funny cus I legit find Kijo a saint in this in comparison to his son. It's both because the man hasn't really done much and he's not the focus. I also had a realization though that the reason I want this Byakuya to suffer so much is because I know he can do better than this! Like, Byakuya as a character! Unlike Kijo, he has the potential for redeemable qualities which makes his reveling in his own ego less camp, more pathetic. Like, Kijo makes it fun because he sucks, he will never improve, and that's that! And it's not like Byakuya can't be that fun camp! He just has to not be a monster! I like this factor in this Byakuya though in this fic. It really encapsulates how bad he could be. How he can surpass his father in horrible behavior, and actions. Like, it's sick reading how much he enjoys all of this and you did a really good job at it! Also, I have no idea how to fit this either but I DID mentally joke to myself that I wouldn't mind Junko actually cutting of a limb from Kijo just to make Byakuya suffer a bit (even if it probably won't be much sadly) and I have no idea how to take that... I think that, weirdly enough, I like ridiculing this Byakuya. I want him to fail. And like, it's insane you're writing can do that!! Be proud!! Like, this isn't even the type of fic I normally read and I've been able to enjoy it. You wrote many variants of just one rich guy and they're all distinct enough to feel different about them but similar enough where you can see where the divergences lie and I really like that!! And, it's oddly cool reading something and knowing that I could never write this. This goes for all your fics by the way but like, it's really cool reading this and just knowing that someone's able to write something I could never. I'm too much of a softie for Byakuya, even when I'm mean to him heehee! No clue if this makes sense by the way. I'm kinda blabbering now so I might end it here! But yeah! You got some cool stuff!

Aaahhh!!! Thank you!!! LOVE the art as always, it looks AWESOME!!

And yeah, Byakuya is NOT a good guy. He's very much a prick and supposed to be like that.

As for your questions, I obviously can't answer those... Though, the answer to some are no and some are yes... That's all I'll say.

And Chihiro is really going through it, with Makoto joining him soon. Byakuya will unfortunately not be leaving them alone 😔

Kijo is strangely enough a better person here, though he still ain't good. Like, he is very much on board with the killing game. He doesn't really like that Byakuya is in it cuz he doesn't want his heir to die, but that's all.

He's also very petty tho and is quite offended Byakuya kept him in the dark about everything. It's why he agreed to the motive. And unfortunately, no missing limbs for Kijo. That is reserved for another dad only in an AU that isn't mine...

But Byakuya is not nice, yeah. And like you said, he could be much better but he simply doesn't want to. He likes the way things are and loves to manipulate some of his classmates.

And that makes people not like him, just as intended. He's the protagonist but one you want to fail. Cuz if he doesn't, that means something bad for the rest of the cast...

But thank you!! I really like writing these different versions of him and it's really not as hard as it might seem. Tbh, it comes kinda natural if anything! Though, I get being the softie to Byakuya, I myself would never hurt him... Other than the countless times he got injured in my fics... :D

[papiliotao]

・❥・THE FIRST OF MANY YET TO COME

♡ — Reader: GN

♡ — Characters: Kazuha, Scaramouche, Xiao

♡ — Synopsis: the first "I love you"

♡ — Content: fluff, light angst(?), injuries in Xiao's, Wanderer era Scara but I'm calling him Scaramouche anyway because I can, established relationship

♡ — A/N: I can't do titles. I'm sorry. Please enjoy reading though!

Ever the poet, KAZUHA has no qualms with expressing his affections through the most flowery of words. Piles upon piles of love letters stashed away in your nightstand's drawer are a testament to his feelings for you, and by simply reading them, you can tell that whenever he is away at sea, his wandering mind can't help but drift away from reality to the thought of you.

To cope with his longing, he writes. He weaves haikus out of meticulously-chosen words, painting vivid pictures of you in all your glory, confirming that distance truly makes the heart grow fonder.

However, despite his eloquent musings to you, Kazuha has never once said the three words that you have been waiting an eternity to hear. They're not quite as grandiose as Kazuha's intricate poems, but the meaning they hold for lovers is remarkable. The words "I love you" have the power to create new universes out of nothing, to place stars in an empty sky, and to make the mundane hues of the world a little more vibrant.

And that's precisely why Kazuha has held off on uttering that simple phrase for so long. He's acutely aware of its significance, so he wants to make your first time hearing it from him special. You mean everything to him, and in his eyes, you deserve nothing less than the best he can offer.

However, as Kazuha stares out at the sunset over the sea with you by his side, those three words run rampant within the depths of his restless mind. His hand rests on top of yours as you watch the last rays of daylight paint streaks of bubblegum pink and marigold orange across the vast canvas of the sky. He feels his heart pounding as he catches a glimpse of you in the dying light of the sun. He nearly forgets how to breath. You're ethereal.

It is a magical moment spent in an irrefutably elysian place, and when Kazuha leans his head against your shoulder, he realizes that it's finally time to break the wall and speak the clause that you have been dying to hear.

He feels at ease with you. You are the one who brightens his day. You are a home for him to return to after his voyages across Teyvat. You are the one he wants to spend the rest of his life with. So with that epiphany in mind, Kazuha softly whispers your name to garner your attention. When you turn your head to glance at him, Kazuha finally allows himself to confess his sincerest sentiments.

"Forgive me for speaking these words in what seems like a moment of impulsivity," he starts, averting his gaze slightly to obscure the rosy tint dusting his cheeks, "but the truth is, I've kept them to myself for far too long." Kazuha pauses and takes a deep breath, composing himself before he utters the last of his thoughts. "You mean the world to me, dove. I love you."

Words of affection from SCARAMOUCHE are like breathtaking nights where meteor showers illuminate the skies above — rare, but they never fail to evoke a feeling of contentment within you. Scathing insults leave the tip of your lover’s sharp tongue more often than not, making affirming phrases expressing his infatuation with you feel like luxuries. You try not to take it to heart — after all, you know him well enough to see through his harsh act and realize that despite his mean attitude, Scaramouche adores you more than anyone else.

Instead of acting as though you are nothing to him like he does with the countless masses of people he views as worthless, your lover actually gives you the time of day ⁠— sharing surprisingly lighthearted conversations with you during stolen moments and seeking your company whenever he has free time. He reprimands you whenever you injure yourself or find yourself in a dangerous situation, but instead of sounding angry, the hidden breaks of his voice betray his fear.

The way Scaramouche comes back to you time and time again is enough to prove that he is deeply enamored with you. His fragile puppet heart, full of cracks and fissures, has been entrusted to you, and you have long since vowed to yourself that you will do everything in your power to protect it.

But no matter how much faith your lover places in you, he still can't seem to shake off his fear of rejection, and after all the heartbreak and abandonment he has faced throughout his life, you can't blame him. He has never spoken the words "I love you" because he is afraid of letting you in, lest you break him by leaving him all alone like everyone who has come before you.

In some ways he feels caged. He can't bring himself to stop loving you, the only one who is able to alleviate his pain and make him feel human, but he can't bring himself to directly convey his love for you out loud either. His dilemma causes a feeling of guilt to steadily build within him. He knows that the only way to free himself from his prison of illusions is to tell you what you mean to him, but he’s still not ready.

Sometimes he almost resents you for making him feel so conflicted, but now, gazing upon your sleeping form lying on the couch within the living room of your house, Scaramouche feels nothing short of pure adoration and wonder. He has been busy helping Nahida over the past few days, so he has been returning home late each night. However, you wait for him every time without fail. Scaramouche finds it almost bizarre that you’re still capable of treating him with such care and attentiveness after having to put up with his feeble displays of affection, but he’s not complaining, rather, he is touched by your willingness to stay with someone like him.

Indigo pools filled with moonlight collected straight from the tranquil atmosphere of the night scan the room for a blanket. When your lover finds what he is looking for, a quilt that appears as though it has been dipped into a pot of melted rainbows, he drapes it over over your frame. After ensuring that the icy fingers of the midnight air won’t cause you any discomfort, Scaramouche simply stares at you. His eyes soften as he leans closer toward you.

"This is absurd," he whispers to himself before placing a chaste kiss on your forehead. Is he seriously talking to you while you're asleep as if you'll hear him? Love has surely bewitched him. "But… thank you for everything. I love you."

He tests the phrase out as stars dance overhead, rejoicing his ardour-filled declaration of devotion. As he observes your sleeping face, he decides that the words just feel right when he directs them at you. Under the dim glow of the all-seeing moon, Scaramouche finally gathers up the courage speak the truth, and he hopes that perhaps one day, he will be able to tell you all that he feels under the light of the radiant sun.

Despite his blunt and cold exterior, XIAO is a fair lover. He will hear you out whenever you have something to say, and he is willing to negotiate with you if the two of you have differing views. However, there is one thing that he will never compromise on: your safety.

So when you seemingly disappear into thin air right under Xiao's nose without warning him first, he can’t help but feel uneasy. You know how much he hates not being able to protect you, so you never fail to tell him where you're going. This is entirely unlike the you that Xiao has grown to adore.

In spite of his misgivings, your lover tries his best to remain undeterred. He wants to believe in your ability to stay out of danger, and deep down, he's aware that you're not completely helpless. However, he can't quite shake the feeling of apprehension that tells him that something isn't right.

His worst fears are confirmed when he hears a desperate cry of his name rushing on the wayward wind. It's you. A shiver runs down his spine as his blood turns inexplicably cold.

You're in danger. You need him. Now.

Without hesitation, he follows the sound of your voice, which leads him to you. As he rushes to find you, adrenaline begins to course through his veins, and his troubled heart pounds frantically, threatening to leap out of his chest.

When Xiao arrives on the scene, his amber eyes widen as they lock on your form. You are slumped against a tree, panting heavily. Nothing but your laboured breathes can be heard in the empty clearing that you are sitting in. It's eerily quiet. The dissonance created by your pitiful state and the serene atmosphere feels disturbing.

Once your lover overcomes his initial shock, he wastes no time in making his way over to you. He sees the way you lift your head as you hear the sound of grass rustling under his footsteps. Xiao breathes a sigh of relief when he realizes you're lucid enough to take note of his presence.

"Why are you here?" Xiao asks you in a grating tone as his eyes scan your body. A subtle flame of poorly-concealed rage springs to life as he notices beads of crimson spilling out of a nasty gash etched across one of your legs. Torn fabric surrounding the wound is dyed shades of red by your blood. You're hurt.

"What happened?" he demands when he is met with silence.

"Ran into a ruin hunter," you tell your boyfriend between desperate gasps of air. Each ragged inhale wracks your body, and Xiao notices your eyes beginning to droop of their own volition. "I'm — I'm fine though." A frown paints itself across Xiao's face as he hears your words.

"Don't lie," he snaps, making you flinch. A small sliver of guilt lodges itself within his heart, but he does his best to ignore it. "You're injured," he says as he runs his fingers along your leg. He feels you shiver under his touch and immediately pulls back.

"Alright, I'm sorry," you manage to breath out, averting your gaze so that you're not staring straight into Xiao's honeyed irises that seem just a touch too cold at the moment. You take a second to regain your composure before speaking again. "I should have told you where I was going but," you start, hesitant to tell Xiao what you had been doing.

"But?"

"I was picking flowers for you, and I wanted to surprise you," you finish sheepishly, reluctant to admit that you had gotten yourself injured over something as trivial as preparing a gift for your lover. When you muster the courage to glance at Xiao, you notice that his eyes have widened, and they appear to be filled with glimmers of regret. "I'm sorry if I worried you."

"You did all this for me?" Xiao seems shocked, but at the same time, his gaze softens. He freezes for a second before shaking his head. "I should be the one apologizing. I wasn't here to protect you."

You offer your lover a weak smile before opening your mouth to say, "I forgive you."

Xiao breathes out a sigh of relief before carefully picking you up. A comfortable silence settles between the two of you as Xiao carries you bridal style and starts walking in the direction of Wangshu Inn. As he looks down at you in his arms, he feels words forming on the tip of his tongue. He contemplates allowing them to leave his lips, and in a moment of weakness, he gives in.

"Next time, call out my name as soon as you find yourself in danger," Xiao tells you, breaking the hush that once hung in the air. You nod as you bury your head in the crook of Xiao's neck. "I'll be there because —" Xiao hesitates. However, when he thinks back to how the greedy hands of death were a hair away from taking you away from him, he finishes his sentence.

"Because I love you."

I am definitely not biased toward anemo boys. Anyway, thank you for reading! Have a nice day :)

[vodika-vibes]

Hello! I've been reading a lot of your content lately and love your writing so much! I was wondering if I could request a little fic about Dogma x a very outgoing, naturally confident social butterfly kind of reader who works on base and a lot of clones seem really into them, but they only ever flirt with him or try to ask him out. And their admirers can't figure out why Dogma of all people but the reader has no kriffs to give and just keeps giving him all their romantic attention until he gets it. Thanks in advance!

Two Souls Intertwined

Summary: You’ve made your choice, you just have to convince Dogma that you mean it.

Pairing: Clone Trooper Dogma x GN!Reader

Word Count: 886

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: Hihi! Thank you for your request! I'm always happy to write for Dogma, so I hope you like this!

“Let me see if I understand you correctly,” You don’t look up from the game you’re playing on your comm as your coworker, and sometimes friend, drops into the seat across from you. “You’re surrounded by attractive men. At all times. And you want Dogma?”

You glance up at the way she says Dogma’s name, “What’s wrong with Dogma?” You ask, offended on his behalf.

“Well...he’s just...he’s not much fun, is he?”

“He doesn’t have to be fun, I like him anyway.”

“Just…” She shakes her head, “I know that so many of the men have a thing for you. And you’re, like, scraping the bottom of the barrel.”

You scowl at her, “I’ve made my choice, and, just for your comments, I’m going to go flirt with him even harder.”

She chokes on her caf, “I...what?”

You throw a cocky grin at her, and push to your feet, downing your caf in one long gulp, before you head out of the break room.

At this time of day, Dogma is probably outside. He likes to take what free time he’s allowed to read something. For a moment, just a moment, you feel bad about interrupting his free time, though you push the guilt aside with ease.

It’s not like he’s ever said, “Leave me alone,” after all.

You head through the halls, and open the door that leads to the courtyard in the middle of the base.

Why this base has a courtyard is beyond you, but you’re glad it does. It offers a nice change of pace from the sterile white and gray halls of the base.

And there he is, sitting under a tree with a datapad in his hands.

A bright smile crosses your face and you dutifully ignore the way that your heart skips when you see him.

You’re well and truly in love with him.

Dogma doesn’t say anything as you walk over to him, and he says nothing as you settle onto the ground next to him. Though he does glance at you when you shift so that your back is pressed against his arm and your head is tilted back to rest on his shoulder.

“Back again?” He sounds more amused than anything.

“Always.” You counter cheerfully.

“You are determined, aren’t you?”

You tilt your head back so you’re able to grin at him.

Dogma’s smile is tiny, but it is there, “Alright. Lay it on me.”

“What?”

“Today’s pick up line.”

You press a hand to your chest, a look of mock offense crossing your face, “I would never-”

“Ah, so I’ve been imagining all of those other pick-up lines, then?” Dogma asks with an arched brow, and you laugh and shift so you’re sitting next to him properly, “You know, my brothers are convinced that you’re using those just to get a reaction out of me.”

You roll your eyes, “They’re just jealous that I only have eyes for you.”

“Or they don’t believe it.” Dogma points out, “I’m sure that there are people who are more similar to you in personality than me.”

“Eh, maybe. But I’m not interested in them, I’m interested in you.” You reply.

Dogma sighs and rubs his hand over his face, “You...someday I’m going to actually believe you when you say stuff like that, and then what are you going to do?”

“Plan our date. Well, schedule our date. I already have our first date planned. We’ll get dinner and go for a walk, and then I’ll kiss you on the way home.” You nod once, “It’ll be perfect.”

He blinks at you, surprised.

You flash a crooked smile, “What? Is it really so hard to believe that I only have eyes for you?”

“Yeah, a little bit.”

“Hm, well then.” You muse thoughtfully, “How about this then? I’m in love with you.”

Dogma jolts in surprise, and you smile at him.

“I’m in love with you, and if you’re really not interested then let me know and I’ll leave you alone. But. Until that happens, I’m going to keep pursuing you.”

“...you’re in love with me?” He asks slowly.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Do I need a reason? I like you. You make me feel safe when I’m around you. You don’t judge me for being me.” Your grin widens, “I love you.”

Dogma releases a strangled noise and lifts his datapad to hide his face, “You’re impossible.” he complains, though he drops the datapad and flashes a small smile, “I’d like that date, actually.”

“...really?”

“Really.”

You laugh and fling your arms around him, knocking you both over, “Thank you! It’ll be the best date! You’ll see!”

Dogma just laughs and folds his arms around you, “I’m looking forward to it.” He replies, a warm smile on his face, “But I need you to get off of me.”

“Oh, right. Sorry.” You scramble off of him and settle on the grass next to him as he sits back up. “What are you reading, anyway?”

“Want me to read to you?”

“Will you?”

“Yeah,” He flips back to the start of the book, “Get comfortable.”

You shift and drop your head to his shoulder, and as soon as you’re settled, he started reading.

And this, really, is all you ever wanted. Who cares if no one else understands. You certainly don’t.

[sunflower-author]

Haii :3

can I request a yandere platonic lady Tamayo who is very protective of reader

OMG, I AM SO SORRY, I KNOW IT HAS BEEN LIKE 60 DAYS SINCE YOU ASKED I AM EXTREMELY SORRY BUT IT'S FINALLY HERE!!!

IM A LITTLE BEHIND BUT WORKING ON ALL THE OTHER REQUEST!!

TRUST!!!

Anyway I hope you like this<3

~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~

     "Y/N I told you many times haven't I," Tamayo scolded you, in your room.

"I just wanted to go out to see the festival... It only happens once a year..." You complained.

"Still that doesn't justify sneaking out. You could have lost control, gotten lost, or Kibutsuki might have found you, or-"

"I had human blood yesterday, and you know I handle a least a week without it, and I know the village, I've been reading about it for a while, and we haven't heard about... 'him' being around here my entire lifetime..." you cut her off by saying.

"You've never been around so many people, since you've been turned into a demon, there was no telling if you could handle, all the new walking blood bags around you, and reading about things is different than actually seeing things in real life, as for Kibutsuki, even he we heard no word about him being here, there is still his underlings that lurk around here. remember the last time Yushiro told us about the encounter he had with one of them?" Tamayo asks you.

"... Four days ago..." you say looking down, feeling guilty, knowing that she is right.

"Exactly four days ago, they are probably still hiding in this town somewhere, it's dangerous to go out alone...  you know, if you truly asked me and Yushiro, we would have taken you..." Tamayo says sighing.

"Yeah right... you're just saying that right now... but we both know if I asked you before, you would have said no, lecture me more about being outside, humans, demons... 'him' exactly what you're doing right now," you say, knowing the type of manipulation tactics she has used on you ever since you met her.

"All I'm doing is trying to protect you... ever since I met you, don't you forget who was the one that saved you all those years ago... That demon was about to devour you, and I was the one who killed him, if I wasn't there, you would have been dead..." Tamayo said. 

Every time the two of you argued and she had enough, Tamayo would always bring up your past trauma, guilt-tripping you to go along with whatever she was saying.

You stay silent knowing that you can't say anything, after she pulls 'that' card on you.

"I care about you Y/N, I truly do," Tamayo says sitting down beside you on your bed.

"Listen, maybe when you're older... give it a few years, and I promise, you me and Yushiro will all go to that festival," Tamayo says, with her signature smile.

It makes her look innocent, but we both know it is always used to hide what she truly is feeling. Her obsessed, psycho, crazy side, or maybe annoyed, irritated side, probably both.

"Older? I'm old enough, I am in my teens no doubt late teen years, in a few years I might well be in my twenties," you snap back at her.

"Correction, you would be in your twenties if you were still human... Demons age differently since they can live well longer compared to humans, menially it takes... even I am not too sure." Tamayo says calmly. 

"Yes you have been here a few years, however menially you've probably only aged a few months, and let's not forget about your physical state, when you get turned into a demon, you stop growing physically," Tamayo says.

As she put her hand on your head, in hopes of comforting you a bit.

"I managed fine on my own before you found me," You counter back.

"You lasted what? A little over a year, before I found about to be devoured by a low-level demon-"

"I was younger, I was still getting used to being a demon, but now I know how to do things, thanks to you and Yushiro, I'll be able to handle myself, Tamayo," You cut her off, not wanting her to say anymore.

"And if you were to run into Kibutsuki? Then what? how will you defend yourself, if he found out you were associated with me? He would do unspeakable things to you Y/N," Tamayo says sternly.

"The chances of running into him are very small, just how much demons actually get to see his face?" you say again.

"Y/N L/N, drop this," Tamayo says, sternly, before sighing and calming herself down.

Finally having enough of this, you stay silent, you can never win against Tamayo. This is how all your arguing ends with her, once she says your full name everything ends.

"You acting childish, auguring with me, selfish for leaving me and Yushiro worried-" Realizing what she is saying stops, looking down at her lap, it is never her intention to make you feel bad.

"Y/n I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"Yeah yeah, you didn't mean all those bad things you said and were about to say to me," giving her attitude. 

Rolling your eyes, you start to lie down on the bed, facing away from her.

"Well, since you're already mad at me, minus well tell you your punishment, no books for a month, and you will stay in your room for a week," Tamayo says turning to look at you.

You just stay silent looking the other way, waiting for her to go.

Getting the signal, Tamayo gets up from the bed walks to the door, turns off the light, grabs the door she looks at you for a moment.

"Goodnight Y/N," She says softly, only to be met with silence.

Sighing again, she closes the door, locking it.

[circeyoru]

This isn't necesarely a request, but I just feel the need to say this: I lietarly LOVE your work! Overlord Colector being one of my new absolut favorites! But I swear, everythig you write, I just eat up😭

U defenetly deserve all the praise and love! The way you dance with words just fascinates me so much!!! HDUDJJDHDJ, I DON'T EVEN KNOW HOW TO PUT IT IN WORDS PROPALY SO IMMA JUST JDHDISHKDHDKDVDJWGKDHDJDHDHHDZKBWUDGZHEGXHGS

Just quick question tough. It may be the fact that maybe I didn't pay atention, but in Overlord Colector, what are the Cages? Are they literal bird cages or what? You mentioned they had tallons with angelic steal and all that, so can you give us a better description (and by us I mean me, cuz I'm dumb, aparently)

I hope you have an AMAZEING day/night and I'm sorry if I misspelled words😭💗

Spoilers to those that didn't read this series yet, so I suggest you go to my MASTERLIST to read {Collection of Overlords} first. Or not, your reading experience, not mine

Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!! Thank you for your words!!! (my poor heart can't take these compliments) And you read my other works too!! People keep eating up my work like snacks... Hmm....

Anyways~ So, lore on Cages is basically this ask's topic. Gotcha. I've been wanting to expand on this, but didn't cause I wanted to do the whole meeting scene with the Overlords first.

First appearance of the Cages concept is in Part 2, at the beginning.

[Whispers of souls from the bodies of your provided winged creatures known as Cages flew around you.]

At first, Cages weren't a thing or that they weren't even in my mind, but it just popped up while I was writing. It's the idea of souls being around The Collector (Silver)/Reader/you that was the point, then I didn't like that they were just orbs of light. Too simple.

Then it's the idea. Something to hold the soul. What's associated with death and misery? Crows and ravens. What got me is that ravens are also linked with hunger, that's what the souls are on about, they hunger for freedom and their captor's favour to be set free (in some way). Yet they turned mindless over time.

That's a bit of thinking while I wrote this creature.

Now, Cages are named as such because they are actual cages to the soul within it. The voice behind the chantings: (below are just some examples taken from the story)

[“Sinners have been brazen.”] [“Very bold. They have stolen your land.”] [“Disrespectful. Undeserving.”] [“Lazy Overlords!”]

Their appearance is a mixture between a raven and a crow, never just one to differentiate them from the other Hell creatures. It's a uniqueness for them, and depending on the soul it houses, the appearance will take more raven or crow-like outlook.

Some permanent features of the Cages are their blood-red eyes, metal-bladed wings, metal beak and claws or talons, and black feathers. The metal parts are all angelic steel that's painted as a more natural colour to disguise it from those that would hunt it down or treat it like some Hell creatures.

These Cages are your last and successful prison for the many souls you have, I mean, Collector right? The souls you have at your disposal is not just the Overlords', that's why you call them Elites.

The idea of the Cages was to act as your eyes and ears around all of Hell. Remember the life-sized wooden figures and hollow knight armours you have? (also back in part 2) Yeah, those were your other experimented forms of prison. While both were good and acted like an unbeatable army you command, that wasn't your purpose. Especially so when you started collecting the souls of Overlords into your collection.

You took the idea from humans that were still alive and experimented with putting souls into the wooden figures first, then into armours to make them more intimidating. Finally, it was the bodies of ravens or crows.

Cages doesn't have unique abilities of their own since their purpose was to house souls you have collected and have them do your bidding. You can summon them at will, with or without notice or an outward command. Like in Part 5 where they just appeared. They are in tune to act according to your will and emotions. The words they speak is a bit of an echo to what you're conveying.

As for the possibility of someone owning those souls or your Cages? Impossible, anyone who tries to touch or capture them with said intention will have their soul forfeited to you. (like the ones in the floor in Part 2)

I think this answers what Cages are. Right?

[ayeliiss]

My two cents on MHA430 and Izuku's character

Disclaimer: this is NOT a hate post against Horikoshi and his manga. Simply, I need to lash my disappointment out somewhere and write my feelings down before I implode. I'm not trying to sound like 'ugh, I know better than them' at all, although I am aware some of my claims may give the 'why does the author think he knows so much?!' vibes, but keep in mind this is just my irrelevant opinion and it won't change anything anyway. So, please, don't come at me with 'lacking reading comprehension' or 'you're coping' (yes, I am) because I feel like fans are allowed to be upset at this ending even if you think differently! To each their own opinion, as long as it's respectful! Also, this might be unnecessarily long so, I apologize in advance.

Discussion about Izuku's character

First of all, if you're satisfied with the ending and what Izuku did/became, I'm genuinely happy for you. Truthfully, I envy you so damn much because I personally couldn't stop feeling empty and crying at night for him, and before you come at me with 'girl, he's fictional, it's okay you'll move on', yes, I know I'm a drama queen and I shouldn't be in one hell of a state for a fictional character, but I can't help it. I've grown as attached to him as I've ever grown to any character before, and there's no turning back. MHA is the first manga that ever moved me this hard and it'll forever remain a masterpiece for me, but it doesn't mean it's not flawed and should be free of criticism (always with respect for Horikoshi's work).

Funny thing is, I didn't even like Izuku when I first met him. He was the typical crybaby and too-optimistic MC I tend to dislike when I read a manga. Yet, the more I read, the more I started to understand him, the more I sympathized with him, and the more I loved him. I realized I related to him to such an outlandish extent, though I know we remain different in the way we act or think. But Izuku, even before Katsuki (and my friends know how obsessed I am with this blond lmao), became my first and greatest over-fixation and my main reason to continue reading/watching MHA. This manga changed my life; Izuku did too, and this isn't an understatement.

Just like him—and probably just like many of us—, I've endured bullying, been made fun of for being different, felt unwanted and hated, been belittled, and treated like shit for most of my teenage years. I think that's what really endeared him to me. I wanted to watch him grow, to watch him make real friends, to watch him receive the apologies and respect he deserved, to see him succeed. I wanted him to realize he was worth it and loved and, oh God, I wish he could know just how much his fans do love him.

And for 200+ chapters, I got what I wanted. Izuku got to live his dream, be around his idol who recognized him, and made new friends who admired him and wanted nothing but to be by his side. Then, the Vigilante arc happened, and everything changed. I won't dwell on the fact that, for me, this arc was the beginning of the decline of his character. It's worth noting though that it's at this precise moment that we've lost track of all his thoughts, but I'll focus on the ending, and how the way Horikoshi handled Izuku's character remains my biggest disappointment.

I sometimes joked with a friend of mine, saying, "Hori's favorite character is Katsuki and it shows so much, he even forgets he isn't his MC!" but I don't think it's much of a joke anymore.

Again, I'm very happy for those who are pleased with Izuku's closure. But, honestly, I can't grasp their process of thinking (I wish I could) because there's no way I can understand how it makes sense. It's not about him being quirkless—actually, I think this choice was cool—, it's about his obvious fucking depression.

After his initial withdrawal, there is never any resolution. He has never talked about his feelings to anyone, never opened up about all the things that bugged him, never taken it out on anyone. He just stopped having development, and never learned how to 'control his heart' (one of the biggest plots of the story, remember???). So, he continues to take everything up on his shoulders by the end of the story, and eight years later, he is feeling lonely, as he says himself:

Yes, I can read, and I know he's also saying he's happy with helping/encouraging other people. But it's literally denial. Izuku is in denial and it hurts me so much. He's alone (I'm not talking about how he's barely seen his friends, I know they didn't abandon him or anything, I'm talking about how he is feeling in general), deprived of his dream, and never got to talk about it to anyone (at least, on-screen. And if it's not shown, then it didn't happen). Even the adults around him don't see he's in pain—or, at least, don't think it's worth addressing. Aizawa can't even simply answer 'yes, you're cool' when Izuku obviously seeks praise and needs nice words after everything he's been through. He doesn't even get fans (except for two, waouh!) after saving the fucking world. He doesn't get a statue, no recognition. Katsuki leads a project for him to get a suit, but not the government? After everything he did? Why isn't he more recognized and acknowledged for his hard work? Killing him would've almost felt like a better choice lol (#it's a joke).

Even if, in the end, he gets to join his friends again and be a hero with them, he's still not opening up. How is it sane/healthy for him???? How will he even be able to maintain good relationships of any kind if there are already so many and huge miscommunication issues?

I hate this—I dislike how it's basically saying 'his feelings weren't that important!'. Izuku deserved better, a better closure. So much is missing from him; from this bitter ending, and I can't find any way to make myself feel better or to cope with it.

I am devastated, I feel empty for him, I just want someone to take him to therapy, to help him.

Some rumors have started to spread, about how 'Horikoshi has been forced to shorten his manga' but I don't believe this—MHA has been SJ's money-maker for a while. And even if it were to be true, the epilogue could've been handled differently. Hori could've focused on the most important parts (that he hasn't even shown/resolved at all) and left the irrelevant ones out (why introduce a new character if not to make us feel hopeful to see Tenko again, lol). He chose to not address the most important aspects of his story (including his MC's resolution and growth) and left us with huge plot holes. And now, we're stuck with our imagination, as usual.

I just can't with 'open endings' and 'it's left to interpretation' stuff. It's too easy to do that. I'm tired of mangakas not taking risks, rushing their own plots, and not digging deeper into their own MCs' traumas. I don't know what happened, but among the many issues left regarding this last chapter, Izuku's conclusion remains my greatest ick. I'm so sorry to say this, but Izuku didn't grow. He never learned from his mistakes and just didn't change—oh wait. Yes, he did change on one crucial aspect—his biggest trait, being obsessed with his childhood friend, totally disappeared! Maybe he started to stop caring about 'Kacchan and the others' and put himself first, to the point of forgetting the said childhood friend died twice for him, who knows? :))) (yeah, I'm especially pissed off at this lol don't mind me).

In my imagination, I see him being a pro-hero who continues to suppress his feelings and continues to act recklessly, to risk his life in the face of any danger that shows up. This is what happens when you leave it to fans' imagination, after all.

I know fanfictions exist, and I'm very happy this unclear ending motivated some writers to challenge their creativity. For me, it had the opposite effect. I'm disgusted, I am angry at Izuku and I know I'll struggle to finish my fics where he's involved because I don't want to deal with his character anymore. I'm too attached to canonical representation.

Man, I'm just devastated. I have no other words. And I'll have to live with this for the rest of my life. I feel betrayed. Shitted on. I'm dying inside and there's nothing I can do because it's over. Just like this long-ass essay, btw lol. Thank you if you're still here, thank you if you've read this! I'm pretty much open to discussion so if anyone wants to try and reassure me over some aspects or respectfully explain why I am wrong (I know I probably am, yet again those are my own feelings), please don't hesitate to do so. Also, I definitely need friends with whom I could talk about this deeper... so, my DMs are open too if you'd like to!

Much love to Izuku though; one of the best MCs I've encountered in my life, despite how he turned.

[heromaker-if]

do you have any other ifs that we can read whilst we wait😭😭🫶🫶

Hi anon! Thanks for the ask and your patience! 🥰

I do have some other IFs that I worked on in the past but I don't recommend playing them (I was still learning how to write at that time, so they aren't great). But if you want some IF reccs, I can recommend some IFs I've read recently.

(Sorry for the tags friends, and for the rants!)

(Released) My all time favourite is The Fernweh Saga by @lacunafiction - it's just genuinely so good and it always gives me the vibes of one of those shows you watch after dinner, that becomes part of your routine and you want to see desperately what happens after, and the characters become part of your memories, almost like people. It's just UGH such a good IF. If you like nostalgic hometown horrors, this IF is for you.

(Released) Very close favourite is Blood Moon by @barbwritesstuff - WEREWOLVES GUYS!! I've replayed this game so many times. It's one of those games that after you finish, no matter how long of a break you take from it, you always return to it. I love the "found family" of this game, even though it's not really found, it's just... family. I miss them! The romance in this story is also written so beautifully.

(Released) Another fav is The Golden Rose by @anathemafiction - it was one of my favs while it was still in WIP and after it's released I took so long to play it cause I never wanted to finish it. Like, I grew so attached to its story that I didn't want to let it go. 😭 Very well written characters and the descriptions of things, places, feelings, expressions, mannerisms, is so endearing and eye-catching, never a second where I skipped a line, I was CAUGHT. If you like a story with ominous beginnings, middles and ends, this is for you, not to mention the whole religion themes that are so interesting to dive into.

(Released) I miss this one so much but The Soul Stone War by @intimidatingpuffinstudios - there's two books out for this one already and each one is better than the previous. It's fantasy and about powers and there's a dragon lady that you can romance, and the POLY IN THIS IS BEAUTIFUL! Very soulmate-y romance and just generally captivating storytelling.

(Released) Nothing will ever hit the same as The Passenger by @the-passenger-if - there's just something so familiar, so memorable about this story. I don't think in my next lifetime I will ever forget it. It's about an eldritch horror battling with humanity and it's raw primal role as a monster. It feels short but only because you're so into it that time passes you by, but the tone and the flow of this story is very well done (as well as the characters! 🥰).

(WIP) I feel like everyone and their mothers know about Infamous by @infamous-if - but I'm going to talk about it anyways. It's a BAND IF, yes, music, yes, adrenaline, fame, and all the bad decisions that come with it. It's only one chapter out right now, but it's very worth it. I guarantee you the brainrot you will get from this game is going to consume your life.

(WIP) A somewhat popular one as well is Body Count by @bodycountgame - I haven't seen a game do the whole modern reality TV show with a tinge of horrifying brutal horror as well as Nell has, and even though it's still in its early stages, it's very well done and interesting. Lots of ROs to choose from, and genuinely funny humour to laugh about in between the crying sessions of a favourite character dying.

(WIP) Haven't heard that many people talking about this one to be fair but Chop Shop by @losergames - Also a very early stages game, but it's very adrenaline inducing and has so much potential that has me shaking in my seat. I'm already half in love with the cast and I can't wait to go need for speed and play a super chaotic individual.

Also any game by @hpowellsmith, they're amazing at creating consistent well written stories that have such great characters and even better representation. They do it so well, and I've been a fan of them for years now, definitely one of my role models!

I'm sure there are many more IFs out there that you NEED to play/read, but my mind is blank right now, and these are the only ones I could think of. I also don't have as much time to get into an IF, but I'm getting there (thinking of getting into Shepherds of Haven - which you should!)