#Like I just went past him thinking that there might be a solution to get the emerald back

[piko-power]

what the hell some jerk just stole my blue Chaos Emerald and I don't think I can fight him and I don't know if I can get it back help-

[lightsoutletsgo]

the one where ollie lives alone (cl.16 x bearman!reader)

pairing: mainly ollie bearman x oldersister!reader for this part but there's a plenty of charles leclerc x bearman!reader here and there!

word count: 4.2k

warnings: a whole lot of stupidity mentions of death, seemingly angsty in some parts (you'll see what I mean) this might be one of my favourite parts I've written for any series ever 😭 it's so dumb but so funny (according to the people who proofread for me!) as always let me know what you think! your comments are always appreciated. happy reading! mimi 🤍

taglist: @arieslost @iamapersonwholikesunicorns

“Jesus Y/N, what the hell is in here?” Ollie wheezed as he staggered past you, arms straining under the weight of the box he was carrying. You rolled your eyes, “You’re so dramatic Ols, it’s literally just makeup.” 

“Is that the last box ma belle?” You turned and saw Charles in the doorway, staring at you fondly. “Mhmm! Everything else is in the van.” You held your arms out to him and he crossed the room, pulling you in by your waist and kissing you softly, “I can’t believe you’re finally coming home with me…” You smiled, looping your arms round his neck, “Me either,” He booped your nose with his own, a loud cough making the two of you jump apart as Ollie leaned against the doorframe, one eyebrow raised, “Are you two done being gross?” “Shut up dummy.” You punched his arm as you walked past him towards the front door. You inhaled deeply, it felt strange but exciting to be moving out and into Charles’ apartment. 

Behind you, Charles watched Ollie stare at you, looking like he wanted to say something. He quietly padded up behind the younger driver and nudged his arm,  “Are you going to miss her?” Ollie was startled but quickly scoffed, “Hmm? No way!” Charles gave him a pointed look, “I get the whole place to myself! I can’t wait!” Charles gave him a smile and punched his arm gently, “We’re only ten minutes away if you need us.” Ollie laughed, “Thanks but I can manage!” 

♯ incident 1 - the dishwasher ⊹.∿  As it turned out, Ollie could in fact, not manage. Mere hours after you’d left him, you found yourself sprinting back up the stairs, cursing the old apartment building for still not having an elevator. You reached the floor of your old apartment and checked the door to see if it was open, turning the handle and entering you called out, “Ollie? I got your text!” You poked your head into each room as you went, searching for him, “What’s the emer…gen…cy…” You trailed off as you reached the kitchen, Ollie staring up at you with wide eyes, crouching next to the dishwasher that was… pouring out soapy bubbles? “Ollie!” “I think I made a mistake.” He said dryly, suspiciously poking some of the bubbly foam next to his shoulder, “Yeah, no shit Sherlock.” You said sarcastically, thinking of a solution, “You put dish soap in didn’t you?” He nodded sheepishly, “There were no dishwasher tablets left so I just… thought on my feet?” You facepalmed and sighed, “Okay well, we need to- DON’T OPEN IT!”

You looked on in horror as Ollie pulled open the door and a torrent of soapy warm foam spilled out and all over the kitchen floor, creeping further into the centre of the room, was it… growing? You looked over at your brother to see him staring back at you with comically wide eyes. “So that’s why we don’t do that.” You said, face deadpan. Ollie giggled nervously, “Oops?” A snort from behind you had you turning round to see Charles filming the whole thing, “Oh some help you are babe.” Charles coughed to cover up his laughter as he put his phone away and entered the foamy bubbly monstrosity that was now the kitchen. “Somewhere under here there’s a bucket and mop.” “Ollie?” “Yeah?” “You’re going in.” 

♯ incident 2 - french toast ⊹.∿ A few days had passed since the dishwasher incident and you dozed in Charles’ arms, enjoying the lazy Sunday morning sun slipping through the bedroom curtains. The previous night’s activities had left you a little worn out and with no plans for the day, you had wordlessly agreed that a cosy day in bed was just what you needed. A shrill sound pierced the air and jolted both you and Charles awake. You scrambled to find your phone, as Charles groaned, hands rubbing his face as your hand came up to feel how quickly your heart was pounding. You glanced at the screen as your hand met your phone and you scowled, Charles rubbing your back and doing his best not to laugh as he saw who was calling you,  “Ollie Bearman, you better have a damn good reason for calling me this early on a Sunday morning.” There was a pause, “It’s eleven o’clock?-” “That’s not the point!” You sighed, “What do you need?” “Well, you see… I have a question.” “Go ahead,” “So I was making french toast right? And I followed the recipe exactly as you wrote it out! Right amount of eggs, milk and sugar.” “So what’s the issue?” Ollie sighed, “It won’t cook but it smells a bit smokey…” You pinched the bridge of your nose, “Then turn it down?” “I don’t know how!” “Turn the hob dial down dummy!” Ollie went silent for a second, “Did you say hob dial?” Alarm bells started ringing in your head, “Why would I adjust the hob when I’m using the toaster.” You froze for a moment before pulling your phone away from your ear and putting it on speaker, unable to believe what you were hearing, “I’m sorry, what did you just say?” Charles gave you a concerned look, sitting even closer to you and wrapping one arm around you while the other rubbed your knee comfortingly 

“I said, I’m using the toaster.” You stared at your phone, mouth slightly agape, “You’re making french toast in the toaster?” “Correct.” Charles snorted and choked back a huge guffaw of laughter as the hand he’d placed on your knee came up to cover his mouth, his face turning pink with how hard he was laughing, “Ollie! French toast isn’t made in the toaster!” “It’s called french toast!” You pressed the video button and changed the call to facetime. Your brother stared back at you, looking rather dishevelled, “That’s a rather deceiving name if you ask me!” You groaned, facepalming, “You make it in a frying pan” Charles was no help next to you as he wheezed silently, grabbing his own phone to record the conversation for later use and hilarity. “Well how was I supposed to know that?!” Ollie was indignant as he pleaded with you through the screen, “OLLIE! You’ve watched me make it hundreds of times!” He pouted through the screen letting out a little ‘hmmph’ “Well if you hadn’t abandoned me, we wouldn’t have this issue would we!” You rolled your eyes, “For the last time, I did not abandon you! I live a 10 minute walk away!” 

You sighed before laughing at your brother lovingly, “Alright then silly, head over for lunch and I’ll show you how to make french toast the proper way.” Charles snorted once more and you both burst into giggles as your brother scowled at you, “Stop laughing at me!” Ollie whined, you caught your breath and wiped your eyes, heart warm at the silly moment you knew would turn into a fond memory, “Uhhhh Y/N?” You looked back at the screen to where Ollie was turning the camera round to show you a sparking, smoking toaster, “I don’t think it should be doing that…” You cursed as Charles scrambled out of bed, pulling mismatching socks on as you grabbed a hoodie, “Change of plans Ols, we’re on our way!” 

♯ incident 3 - Gerald ⊹.∿ Things were peaceful for a couple of days after the french toast debacle - something you were more than thankful for, wrapped up in your perfect little bubble with Charles. Of course you continued to text Ollie, but there had been no major crisis that required your immediate attention. Until there was. 

It had been one of those long lazy days spent at home, until Charles had announced he was taking you to dinner and told you to get all dressed up. You’d slipped on one of his favourite numbers and he’d shown his appreciation more than once, sliding his hands round your hips and squeezing while you waited to be seated, pulling your chair out for you to sit down and sliding his hands down your arms once you were seated, moving his chair round the table to sit closer to you so he could place a slow smooch against your neck. You hummed happily as he fed you a mouthful of his dish, “I knew you’d like it!” You smiled at him, “I like most things you suggest…” He bit his lip as his eyes darkened slightly, “Is that so?” You nodded, eyelashes fluttering as your lids close, “What if I suggested something a little… more intimate?” You giggled, picking up your wine glass to take a sip and hide your face, too shy to keep the eye contact, “I wouldn’t mi-” Your phone blaring cut you off and you gasped, rushing to put your glass down as other customers in the restaurant glared at you, Charles chuckling quietly next to you, his hand resting on your thigh and rubbing soothingly. 

“Ollie I swear to go-” “He’s dead.” You heard your little brother sniffle and adrenaline kicked in, “Ollie, who’s dead?” You kept your voice as calm and quiet as possible, you heard him sniffle once more before a sob left his mouth. That was all you needed to hear before you were grabbing your clutch and nodding towards the door. Charles tilted his head and you mouthed your brother’s name. He nodded understandingly and rushed to pay the bill before you were both scurrying back to his car. As soon as you were buckled in you put your phone on speaker, “Ollie… Honey… what happened?” Charles also looked panicked as he heard Ollie’s choked sob, “He was fine and then he just… wasn’t.” “Who Ollie, who’s not fine?” You pleaded, “Ge-” You cursed as the call cut out, “It’s okay ma belle, his phone probably just died, we’re almost there okay?” You nodded, hands nervously twisting and wringing together in your lap. Charles eyes darted to your hands for a second before looking back at the road, one hand leaving the steering wheel to gently hold your hand in his. You looked at him and squeezed, a wordless thank you. 

As soon as Charles pulled up, you were racing out of the car, slipping your heels off and carrying them in your hand as you sprinted barefoot up the stairs of the apartment building. You reached the door and rang the bell, knocked, called his name, anything you could think of to attract his attention. The door opened slowly and it wasn’t Ollie that appeared but Arthuer Leclerc, looking ever so sombre, “Arthur?” Your eyes were panicked as you looked him over for any injuries or obvious isses. He simply held his hand out to indicate to you to enter and you slowly stepped through the door, “Where’s Ollie?” Arthur nodded, head down towards the ground and the panic rose in your chest again, “He’s in the living room, saying his goodbyes.” “Goodbyes to who?” You paced down the hallway and burst into the living room, your jaw dropping at the sight you saw.

Ollie stood in front of the coffee table that was lit with candles, dressed in a suit and your brain suddenly registered that Arthur had been dressed the same way. You were even more concerned when you saw Arthur’s girlfriend fully dressed in black,  standing next to Ollie with a comforting hand on his shoulder. You approached him slowly, arms opening and your expression softening as he turned to you with a red splotchy nose and red-rimmed eyes, he fell into your arms and you patted his back, gently shushing him, “What happened, Ols?” “He’s gone.” Ollie croaked out, “Who’s gone honey?” Your voice was gentle as you stroked his hair, the same way you did when he was younger and couldn’t sleep, “Gerald.” “Oh.” You said softly, “Was he a friend?” Ollie nodded and you held back a wince as he rubbed his snotty nose onto your shoulder, knowing he needed you, “He was such a good friend.” You led him over to the couch and sat down, his head falling onto your shoulder as you continued to play with his hair. 

You were aware of Charles appearing in the doorway and you gave him a brief smile, before turning your attention back to Ollie, “Would I know this friend?” Ollie nodded, his sobs quieting to sniffles, “You were his friend before I was.” Your stomach dropped as you frantically thought of who Ollie could possibly be referring to, feeling guilty that your mind was blank, “The funeral was lovely.” Arthur’s girlfriend nodded solemnly, a hand over her heart as the other hand came up to dab her eyes with a tissue, “The funeral has already happened?” You were confused as Arthur nodded, “Just before you got here.” Your eyes shot to Charles who was just as concerned and confused as you, “Wait, the funeral was here?” Ollie scoffed, “Well where else would it have been?” “Wait Ollie,” You held his face in front of yours, “Why was the funeral in your apartment?” “He wanted to be remembered in the place he was most happy…” Ollie sighed wistfully, his head turning to look at the coffee table once more. 

You squinted, focusing on a shape amidst the flickering candles and once more your mouth gaped as you stood up and stormed over to the other side of the room. “Ollie. Bearman.” You gritted your teeth, “Don’t tell me that this was all about a fucking cactus?” “Succulent!” Ollie snapped at you, wiping away a tear from under his eye, “He was a succulent,” He whispered as he looked down at the floor. Charles broke first, snorting in the doorway and you watched as he did his best to choke down his laughter, coughing and shaking his head, you watched as he excused himself from the room for a moment to force a solemn expression back onto his face. He returned but you could see the laughter threatening to bubble over as he took in the sight before him. Ollie, his younger brother and his younger brother’s girlfriend all dressed in black and in mourning for a succulent that sat sadly on the coffee table and looked like it had been watered a little too much.

“I’m glad you got here,” Arthur spoke up suddenly, “Oh goodie, do tell me why.” Your tone was sarcastic. “We’re about to do the funeral exit.” Charles was holding in his laughter so much that he now had tears streaming down his face and Arthur patted his back with a ‘there, there’ and handed him a tissue. “Arthur’s girlfriend has agreed to sing the exit song and we’re so thankful she has.” “Who is we Ollie?” You brow furrowed as you looked around the living room,  “I-I…” You sighed. “Go ahead.” You all stood still, heads to the floor as Arthur’s girlfriend launched into a rendition of ‘Memory’ from Cats, “Miiiiiiidniiiiiight, not a sound from the paaaaavemeeeent.” Charles quietly crossed the room to stand next to you, nudging you gently with his shoulder, “Interesting date night hmm?” You growled, “Don’t you dare encourage him.” Ollie approached you,  “Do you want to say your final goodbyes?” “Ollie, why would I care about a succulent?” He gasped, “It’s Gerald!” “Yes Ollie so you said, but why would I care that it’s name is Gerald?” Ollie shook his head, “Don’t even recognise your own friend…” Arthur tutted and even his girlfriend gave you a disapproving look as she continued wailing in the background, you mentally made a note to apologise to the neighbours the next time you were here during normal sociable hours. 

You rolled your eyes at your younger brother and stepped forward to ‘pay your respects’ to the succulent. Your eyes narrowed, “Oliver. James. Bearman. That’s MY fucking succulent!” “It was nice of you to wear black.” He continued, nodding towards your dress and Charles blazer and pants, ignoring your exclamation. “We were on a date!” You screeched, Charles once again powerless to help in any way, instead just collapsing with laughter. You growled as you lunged for your brother, “Ollie, I swear there will be a funeral tonight.” You hissed, “Yours!”

♯ incident 4 - spiderman ⊹.∿ After everyone had said their goodbyes to Gerald, he had been unceremoniously dumped into the rubbish bin and that had been the end of it. Ollie had promised to buy you a new succulent and had learned that they did not, in fact, require watering every day, and you now forever had ‘Memory’ stuck in your head. Once more, peace had been restored but you doubted it would last much longer. 

Your theory was proved correct when a few days later, your phone rang. An unknown number. You ignored it at first, all too aware of strange reporters and crazy fans who would do anything to get closer to Charles. You simply went back to reading your book, until your phone rang again. It was an unknown number still and you grumbled, rolling your eyes and answering quite snappily, “Yes? Hello?” The voice on the other end of the line seemed almost taken aback, “Umm excuse me is this Y/N Bearman?” You sighed, “Yes it is, no I won’t give you a quote and yes Charles is great in bed, goodbye!-” “No wait please! I’m from downstairs! You live in 10B yes?” You stopped as your finger hovered over the end call button and brought the phone back up to your ear, “Uhhhh I used to, yes, can I ask why?” “Oh, well there’s a man trying to climb onto your balcony and I was concerned that’s all.” Your stomach flipped, your mind rushing to thoughts of someone breaking in when your little brother was home alone, “I’ll come over now! My younger brother still lives there.” You raced to grab your keys and jumped into your car, deciding to get there as soon as possible rather than walk. Who was stupid enough to break in in broad daylight? You briefly considered calling the police but you were sure the idiot would be gone by the time you got there. Your car pulled up and you craned your neck to look up at the balcony of your old apartment. Your eyes widened and you gasped as you spotted that there was indeed a man hanging off of your balcony, “Holy shit,” You mumbled, scrabbling to open the door and race towards the apartment complex. The closer you got you squinted as you realised the hoodie looked ever so familiar. “Ollie?!” You yelled up and shrieked as your brother looked down at you, giggling nervously as his feet kicked back and forth as he desperately searched for a footing, “What the fuck are you doing?” “Uhhh I can explain!” He yelled back to you, “H-hold on, I’m on my way up!” You hurried up the stairs, once more cursing the lack of elevator as you finally reached your floor, unlocking the door and rushing through the apartment to french doors out onto the balcony. 

“What the fuck were you thinking?” You screeched, leaning over the balcony and diving to grab him and pull him up, “Ollie that’s so fucking dangerous!” “Look!” You heard a kid shout from the street below, “It’s Spiderman!” You scoffed and rolled your eyes, "He wishes!" You paused for a moment to yell back, before resuming hauling your brother over the apartment balcony. “How did you even get up here? Why are you up here?” Ollie chuckled, panting slightly as he finally threw one leg over the ledge, “Funny story actually…” You raised an eyebrow, “Well please share,” “I forgot my key…” “I-” In your shock you almost let go of him and his scream attracted the attention of yet more passers by below, laughing and pointing at the odd sight they were witnessing. You smiled down awkwardly before turning back to Ollie once more, “Why didn’t you call me?” Ollie whined as you began to tell him off, “Because I didn’t want you to find out…” “Oh so this was a better idea- Ah!” You squeaked as Ollie tumbled over the ledge and onto the balcony. Landing on your stomach in a tangle of limbs, “Your foot is up my butt!” “Yeah well it wouldn’t be if you hadn’t been being stupid! Anyway, get your elbow out of my eye!” “Oh I’m sorry, I was making sure I wasn’t about to fall to my death!” You shoved Ollie off of you and led there on your back, panting, Ollie much the same,

“For the record, you are the shittiest spiderman there is.” “Thanks, that’s really boosting my confidence.” “Glad I could help.” 

♯ the resolution ⊹.∿ “We need more protection.” You announced loudly, stepping into the kitchen “Excuse me?!” Charles choked on his protein shake, cheeks turning pink and you heard Max snort on the phone, “God, no! You pervs… I meant like, we need protection from Ollie and his dumbass incidents.” Max cackled, “Charles has sent me the videos, I was dying at the dishwasher incident.” You groaned, crossing the room to stand next to Charles who sat at the breakfast bar. He grinned as you rolled your eyes at Max who you could now see was on facetime.  “Yeah, well I’m turning grey way sooner than I should!” You joked. You chatted with Max a little longer before Charles signed off with the promise of joining him to game later. 

You sighed, leaning against Charles’ side,  “What’s wrong ma belle?” You took another breath and paused, “I’m just… worried about Ollie…” Charles put his arm around you and rubbed your back soothingly, “What has you so worried mon amour?” His expression was warm and you knew he wasn’t angry with you, rather genuinely curious, “I just feel like… maybe he isn’t ready to live on his own yet?” Charles nodded at you and you took that as a signal to continue, “I mean, he’s always had me there to help him and I know someday he’s gonna have to get used to me not being there but I just feel like right now…” You trailed off with a sigh, “He still needs you.” Charles finished and you gave him a grateful smile and nodded. “But, I don’t wanna leave you. I love living with you and having you around and I love just... living life with you. Am I selfish for not wanting to give that up?” You bit your lip, moving away from Charles to pace the kitchen floor. Charles shook his head with a fond smile, 

“Ma belle… You’re not selfish for wanting to do something for yourself and I’m proud of you for wanting to pursue that, especially since it’s me you want,” he slid his arms around you as you stepped next to him and dragged you backwards to him, making you giggle, “but I also know that you want to be there for family and I can understand that, you guys are close, the same way that me and Thur are, probably even closer.” You hummed, leaning back against him, “Thank you for being so understanding.” You sighed, “Now I just need to work out how to fix it…” Charles smiled and turned you round in his arms, nudging your nose with his, “Well… we have a spare room?” 

Which is how you found yourself hauling boxes upstairs a week later, “Jesus Ollie, what the hell is in here?” You wheezed out and Ollie simply smiled at you, patting you on the head as he walked past you, arms empty, “You’re so dramatic Y/N, it’s literally just a few bits.” You poked your tongue out at him as he mimicked your words from just a couple of months ago. “Is that it mate?” Charles head appeared from behind the apartment door and Ollie nodded, as you finally conquered the stairs and planted the box down on the hallway floor. “Now let’s go over the rules one more time Ols.” He sighed, “Fine…” “Rule one?” You crossed your arms and raised an eyebrow, “No dish soap in the dishwasher…” He grumbled, Charles chuckled, “Rule two?” “No cooking without supervision.” Ollie recited as you nodded, “Don’t worry, that rule applies to Charles too.” “Huh?!” “Shush baby, rule three?” You turned back to Ollie, “No watering the succulents unless instructed, no matter how sorry I feel for them.” You nodded, “I am not having a repeat of Gerald and the… funeral.” You shuddered, as Charles snorted before asking, “Rule four?” “Always call one of you two if I forget my keys…” “And?” You raised an eyebrow, “No climbing balconies under any circumstances.”  You clapped your hands together and smiled, “Good! Well I can’t think of anything else, can you?”

You turned to Charles who shook his head and Ollie who just shrugged, “In that case, let’s go! Pizza for dinner sound good?” The three of you walked into the apartment and the door to the hallway swung shut, your arguments about pizza toppings muffled through the door, but the happiness and love you felt for each other not dulled in the slightest.

[thedarkdisgrace]

Ok, follow up post to the original cause I wanted to actually offer my analysis/interpretation on this.

I feel like this is a right/left brain analogy 🧵

Dazai covering his right side, the side supposedly responsible for the emotional & artistic things. It says alot about his mindset, accurate for that time.

It’s intriguing, then, Kouyou covers the “logical” side

I feel like this lends to why Chuuya & Kouyou do get along well. While both Chuuya & Kouyou are no doubt very intelligent (Asagiri literally refers to Chuuya as a genius) they both still lean very much into their emotional side as well. Even if Kouyou seemingly does so less.

Kouyou reveals herself, however, not only in her care for Chuuya but we mainly see it how she handled the situation with Kyoka.

She could have insisted Kyoka come back without ever changing her mind but when Dazai presents her with a way to save Kyoka from dark, she agrees quickly.

Kouyou clearly cares & wanted to help & protect Kyoka even if she went about it poorly. She was trying to help based on her past experiences, lest we forget that she tried to leave the mafia herself once, for *love* no less. She also tends to get emotional when talking about her past or her wish to help Kyoka.

But once she was presented with another solution, a far better one, she didn’t do “what’s best for the mafia”. Kouyou agreed to what was best for Kyoka & that was definitely a more emotional choice.

This is an area where Chuuya & Kouyou align. So, of course they would get along.

Chuuya always seems to find the balance between his logic and emotion. However, he can easily & often does lean more into his emotional side first, then his logical side.

It’s similar for Kouyou, even if we don’t see it as much from her.

Back to Dazai then, when he left the mafia & the cover on Dazai’s “emotional side” was gone Dazai seemed to also move more towards that balancing of the two sides.

He started off heavily relying on his logical brain & struggled emotionally. Often feeling numb or apathetic mostly, hence his suicidal ideation.

Then he meets Chuuya & this shifts. Chuuya forces him to experience new feelings. As Chuuya is a living breathing example of most things Dazai felt the world lacked. It opened Dazai to the idea that there is more to the world, there is more to *people*. Chuuya intrigues Dazai enough to make him want to live a little longer again. Chuuya gave him a reason to keep going, a promise of more.

From the moment he met Chuuya, it was a process of letting more & more emotions seep into his mind & his heart. We see how he feared for Chuuya in 15 even after they just met, even though Dazai *knew* it was a plan.

I might even venture to go as far as to say Dazai may not have feared for someone else’s life that hard before. It was a burst of unrecognizable emotions to him. After this, he only had more & more emotion seep in as the years went by. In Storm Bringer he was ready to sacrifice the city to give Chuuya a choice.

That relationship opened Dazai up to others later, namely Oda & Ango. Which only further encouraged the intermingling of his logical brain and his emotions. Then reaching the point at which the bandages were finally removed entirely and then he, like Chuuya, moved to striving to find the balance rather than relying on one side.

Bringing us back to current Dazai as he is still attempting to find that balance.

He still leans more towards his logical side. This, of course, in contrast to Chuuya who, while intelligent, more easily leans into the emotional.

Yet another thing between them that completes & balances each other. Soukoku will always pull the other back when drifting too far.

So, of course, Soukoku complement each other & it benefits them both.

Having Kouyou on Chuuya’s other side I think also does help Chuuya stay grounded while in the mafia. Chuuya isn’t one to lose who he is but I think having someone else who he knows *cares* like he does helps.

Now, additionally, if we apply this to Beast, I think this also says alot about beast Dazai & why Asagiri says beastzai would be the hardest for someone to portray.

Because *this* Dazai, is perhaps *too* far into his emotional side. He’s always intelligent but in beast, his actions aren’t fully logical, they’re emotional.

He appears cold & calculating as always but he saw another version of himself suffer the great loss of a best friend & allowed his emotional desire to prevent that from happening take control. Thus, his emotional side takes over, thus him covering the opposite side from canon Dazai, he’s covering his “logical” side.

I feel like this is the main difference between all the various Dazai we’ve seen.

PM Dazai relied heavily on his logical side, especially before meeting Chuuya. He rarely took emotion into account unless it involved the 3 people he actually cared for. We see him make emotional choices when it involves Chuuya, Oda, and Ango. Dazai did seem to let more and more emotion seep in over time as a result of knowing them, however, leading to that moment the bandages are removed.

Beastzai is leaning far too heavily into his emotional side, getting lost in it even. Acting solely on an emotional desire rather than a logical one. His desire to prevent a tragedy. He only was using his intellect to further that emotional desire.

Canonzai went through a steady progression, meeting Chuuya starts to open him up, this extending over time to Oda & Ango, leading to the cover on his “emotional” side being taken off.

But beastzai skipped all of that, all the *progression* to that point for canonzai & so beastzai just got all these intense emotions he never experienced before all at once when he saw canonzai’s memories & therefore he sunk far too deep, too quickly into his emotions.

Now current/ADA Dazai is the balance of the two extremes, and seemingly the closest to happiness.

ADA Dazai uses his logical brain as always but he also actually takes emotion into account as well and has more people he actually cares for now.

I think that says alot to the theme of bsd, leaning into that “everything is grey” dynamic. Everything is about the *balance* of things. Showcasing that anything in extremes in either direction doesn’t work.

Anyway, just some thoughts I had and interpretations of mine. Take them as you want, as always.

Oh and just to be clear, I don’t think Dazai was ever “emotionless”, even at his worse. Even if he was numb and apathetic. He was also lonely.

Just saying the more people he came to care about (Chuuya, Oda, Ango then later the ADA) the more he was able to feel a variety of emotion.

My original post:

[joostsblog]

joost klein x fem!reader who has a thing for his hands? loving when his hands wander all around her body.. fingering her during a pre-party then dragging her to hus room to finish the poor girl off both of them competing in eurovision

maybe joost even whispering things in her ear.. lots of neck kisses and reader wakes up in the morning neck, thighs, collarbones basically her whole body having hickeys ☺️

tysm if u do this

here you go :)

the one about his hands and also waking up covered in hickeys ~ joost klein smut

My masterlist here ✨💌

Pairing: Joost Klein x fem!eurovision contestant!reader

Description: Only fantasising about Joost's hands just isn't enough. You need to get the fellow eurovision contestant to actually touch you where you need to be touched.

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: in this version of eurovision no drama is happening, no dq etc, everything is just nice ❣️ i'm leaving for vacation tomorrow (to the netherlands actually lmao) so i probably won't be able to write anything for two week, i'm sorry babes :( filling up my inbox with requests, thoughts, feedback etc is still encouraged tho 💌

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, SMUT, nsfw, fingering (f receiving), protected sex, piv, swearing, consumption of cigarettes, not proofread

His hands were the first thing you noticed about the man. The way he held out his hand in front of you, greeting you with a handshake (which you thought was a bit odd). His hand felt firm yet gentle in yours and you couldn't help but admire the digits tattooed on his fingers.

"Nice to meet you," he had smiled at you and your heart had fluttered just a bit.

Your quick infatuation with Joost and his hands really was poorly timed. You were at eurovision to represent your country and you were supposed to be on your best behaviour. Absolutely no distractions allowed. Too bad thoughts of the blonde dutch man doing ungodly things to you kept intruding into your mind.

So you really shouldn't be spending as much time with him as you did. Always finding an excuse to talk to him in between rehearsals or at breakfast (your favourite because it meant you saw Joost's messy hair in the morning and maybe sometimes you imagined your hands were the ones responsible for that). Your vocal coach would be furious with you if she found out that you had been starting to sneak off with Joost whenever he went for a smoke. Just talking and laughing with him as you watched him smoke. Always paying close attention to those hands when he lifted one of them to his mouth to take a drag in between sentences.

"I think I might be a bad influence on you," he said. "You need to take care of your pretty voice," he mused with a smirk and you swear you caught him eyeing you up and down.

"Don't worry about me, I'm already corrupted," you joked.

"Really, how so?" Joost asked with a grin.

You watched as Joost took another drag, his cigarette delicately placed between his fingers. Oh, what those hands could be capable of doing to you. You couldn't help but let your thoughts wander off again. You wondered how his hands would feel on your hips if you were sat on his lap, his hands guiding you to grind against him. How his hands would feel in your hair, pulling on it while his mouth would kiss along your neck. How his hands would on your throat while he would thrust into you. How his fingers would feel slowly pumping inside of you, hitting all the right spots.

Joost raised an eyebrow when he noticed your absent state.

"You will have to find out," you said smirking.

"Mysterious, I like it," Joost said and finished off his cigarette. "After you," he said after he opened the door. You walked past Joost and your hands lightly brushed against Joost's. Shivers on down your spine.

You decided that maybe the only solution to your problem was to actually get into Joost's pants. Because then all your thoughts and fantasies about the man wouldn't have to plague your mind anymore when they would become reality. So you decided you would do anything in your power to achieve your goal.

~

You were sitting across Joost in a waiting area. He was handsomely dressed in that black jacket with the dark europe tie and his glasses with the thick brims. His fingers were nervously playing with the cord of his headphones. He looked ravishing. You crossed your legs which caused your thighs to be on full display with the short skirt you were wearing. You hoped Joost would notice and maybe also think about how his hands would feel so good on your thighs (and other places also).

"Excited for tonight?" you asked Joost.

"Huh?" he asked confused.

"The semifinals preparty," you reminded him.

"Oh, yeah," he nodded as he remembered. "Are you gonna be there?" he asked.

"Only if you're there," you said and Joost smiled.

"Then I'll be there, anything for you," he said.

"Anything?" you asked cheekily. Joost narrowed his eyes at you and gave you a grin.

"You will have to find out."

~

Joost's eyes immediately landed on you as you saw him enter the party. You were swaying your hips to the beat, hands up in the air as you enjoyed yourself on the dancefloor. You grinned at Joost and he didn't need to be told twice as he made his way over to you. You wrapped your arms around Joost's neck to hug him hello, still swaying to the music. Instead of hugging you, Joost put his hands on your hips and smiled at you as he probably assumed you wanted to dance with him. You didn't complain. The thin fabric of your skirt didn't serve much as a barrier between your skin and Joost's grip and still you wished the skirt was gone. Your fingertips cautiously dipped into the hair at the nape of Joost's neck and Joost responded by pulling you closer to him. It still wasn't close enough. Joost leaned down to whisper into your ear.

"You look very nice," his breath ghosted over the skin on your neck and your breath hitched.

"You do too," you said and it was almost sweet. You needed to get him out of here as fast as possible. "You wanna go for a smoke?" you proposed.

"I don't have any cigs left," Joost said.

"I think I saw a cigarette vending machine in the lady's restroom," you said and took Joost's hand in yours to lead him through the crowd. As you reached the door to the restroom you could feel Joost hesitating. "Don't worry, there's no one inside," you said and scurried through the door frame. The door closed behind Joost and the music was reduced to some sounds in the distance. Beside the vanity was the vending machine you had spoken of.

"This is a condom vending machine," Joost stated.

"Oh," you giggled. You took out a euro from your purse and proceeded to buy one condom. "Well," you said as you took the condom from the slot. "There's always other vices you could indulge in instead," you smirked at him.

"What are you proposing?" Joost asked, his hand leaning against the wall beside you.

"What does it sound like I'm proposing?" you looked up at him, condom in hand.

Joost took the condom from your fingers and put it in his pocket before he leaned down and his lips crashed into yours. His right hand held the back of your head, the other grabbed you by your hips. Your lips hungrily moved in sync with each other before they opened and your tongues met. Your arms wrapped around Joost to pull his body closer to yours. You wanted him to feel your breasts pressed against his chest. You sighed into the kiss as you could tell that this kiss alone wouldn't satiate either of you. You blindly reached for the door of one of the stalls and pushed it open before you both stumbled into it.

You broke off the kiss briefly to lock the door of the stall, Joost's mouth eagerly kissing along your neck instead. His hands were resting on your waist, slowly pushing up the fabric of your top to reveal your stomach. You were pressed against the wall of the bathroom stall, not an inch left between you. Joost's lips found yours again. You opened your legs slightly so Joost's leg could slip in between yours. His right hand trailed down your hip until it rested on your upper thigh. You couldn't stop yourself from grinding your hip against Joost's thigh as vivid images of him fucking into you flickered through your mind. You moaned against Joost's lips as you desperately needed to make your wants known.

"I- I- I need," you tried to get out in between kisses. "I need you."

"You got me," Joost murmured against your skin as he kissed down your neck again. "Don't worry, m’en meisje."

His hand ghosted up your thigh and pushed up the hem of your skirt. Your arousal was hot with anticipation. As his hand reached your panties his fingers softly grazed over the fabric right where your clit was. Your hips bucked lightly and Joost grinned against the skin of your neck.

"So eager," Joost tutted.

His fingers carefully pushed your panties to the side until his fingers could dip into your folds. Your head fell back and you bit into your lip to stifle any moans you otherwise would have let out if you two were in private.

Your folds were slick with arousal eliminating any friction as Joost's fingers started circling your clit.

"You're so wet for me," Joost whispered against your ear. Your hands were desperately grabbing onto his shoulders, keeping yourself upright as your knees buckled. Joost's other hand was resting by your side, keeping you close to him. "So ready for me," he said, voice as soft as ever.

Joost stopped circling your clit and you almost let out a groan in frustration. His fingers inched closer to your entrance until they slipped inside of you. Your mouth slacked open, eyes tightly squeezed shut and Joost's hand caressing your side. Your nails dug into Joost's skin as his fingers slowly pumped in and out of you.

"You feel so good," Joost murmured against your ear. "I bet you would feel so good around my cock." You let out a loud moan as his words triggered your vivid fantasy. "Would you like that?" Joost grinned against your skin. "Me fucking you properly?"

"God, Joost," you could only whimper.

"God, you're barely holding it together," Joost whispered. "You're so good for me," he said as he continued pumping his fingers in and out of you.

Suddenly you could hear the restroom door fling open and the voices of two women enter. Joost swiftly pressed his hand on top of your mouth but still continued moving his fingers inside of you. Your mind didn't even register what the voices outside the bathroom stall were talking about as all your mind was occupied with was Joost. Your body was trembling and you did everything in your power to keep yourself from orgasming right then and there as you knew that you would not be able to keep quiet through it. Joost pressed gentle kisses to the skin on your neck as your heavy breathing only intensified.

A few moments later the door closed and you were alone again. Just as you were about to allow yourself to climax Joost withdrew his fingers from you, leaving you trembling uncontrollably.

"Pleaseplease, Joost please," you could only press out. Joost's hand caressed your side and his lips trailed along your neck.

"Sshhh, mijn lieverd," Joost shushed, slowly brushing your hair behind your ear. "I need you to be a little bit more patient," he looked at you fondly. "I'm gonna take you back to my room and we're gonna do this properly." You let out a frustrated groan. You could feel your slick arousal almost dripping down your legs. Joost smoothed down your skirt and top (and his own pants that hid his raging boner) and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. "Come on," Joost said with a grin, his hand held out for you to take as you still stood there dumbfounded.

Reluctantly you took Joost's hand and let yourself be led outside the restroom. You didn't take too many steps before you noticed Mona, one of the stylists on your delegation come up to you.

"(Y/N)!" she hugged you. "How are you?" Mona asked and you just stared at her blankly for a few seconds.

"Yeah, I'm good," you managed to sound out. Mona raised her eyebrows amused.

"Are you drunk? I thought they didn't serve alcohol here," she laughed. Joost looked at you with a knowing smirk.

"Aaaww, she's just a little exhausted," Joost saved you and wrapped his arm around your shoulders playfully. "I was just gonna walk her to her room."

"Oh yeah, she probably just needs some rest," Mona agreed. "We need her on her best game tomorrow," she joked and squeezed your shoulder lightly. "See you tomorrow!"

"See you," you smiled weakly as Mona walked away. Joost giggled beside you. "Shut up," you said and rammed your elbow into his ribs.

"Alright, let's get out of here."

Joost could barely close the hotel room door behind him before your lips were attacking each other again. Hands quickly roaming each other's bodies, grabbing onto any piece of clothing you could get a hold of to get rid of it. Joost's t-shirt was the first to go, swiftly followed by your top and bra. Your fingers fiddled with Joost's belt as the back of your knees hit the bed and you fell on it. You lay on top of it, only your short skirt covering you. Joost grinned down at you, observing your body spread out in front of him as he unbuckled his belt and took off his pants before he joined you on the bed.

You anticipated his lips to press onto yours again but instead, they found your neck again. His hands held onto your waist as you wrapped your arms around his neck and buried them in his hair, softly massaging his scalp. As Joost situationed himself in between your legs you could feel his hard-on press against your vulva through the fabric of your clothes. You let out a moan and Joost hummed approvingly against your skin as you could finally voice your lust for him.

Joost's mouth slowly moved down to your collarbones, alternating between peppering your skin with kisses and sucking at it. His fingers found the hem of your skirt and as he kissed along down your body he pulled the skirt down as well until you were only left in your panties. Your chest was heaving with how heavy your breathing was, anticipating Joost's next move. You let out a groan as his lips connected with the skin of your inner thighs.

"Stop being such a tease," you groaned and Joost grinned against your skin. Joost's fingers hooked in your panties before he finally pulled them down.

"What is it that you want, mijn lieverd?" Joost asked innocently.

"Jesus fucking Christ," you moaned frustrated. "I want you to fuck me finally."

"With pleasure."

Joost got up from the bed and you watched as he got rid of his underwear and you admired his length.

"Hurry," you nagged and Joost rolled his eyes with a soft laugh before he put on the condom you had bought earlier and got back in bed.

"So needy," he tutted, his lips just softly grazing yours. You held onto Joost's shoulders, his hand holding the side of your face before he slowly pushed into you. Your eyes momentarily blacked out as the pleasure spread throughout your body. Joost grunted against your skin also being lost to the pleasure. "So good for me," he praised and you wondered how much longer you would be able to keep it together.

He started slowly moving in and out of you. The slow rhythm, your hands in his hair and his lips pressed to your neck made all of this almost romantic. You wrapped your legs around Joost's hips to help him penetrate into you even deeper. With your hands in his hair, you grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled his head from where he was still kissing your neck until his lips found yours again. You moaned into the messy open-mouthed kiss before you softly pulled his hair again to make him look at you.

"Harder," you begged and Joost grinned at you.

Joost snaked his arm around your body to keep you in place, your bodies almost pressed against each other before he started pounding into you. Your nails dug into the skin on Joost's back as the moans tumbled out of your mouth uncontrollably. With each thrust, you were edging closer to your orgasm as Joost hit all the right spots inside of you. The sounds Joost was letting out of his mouth were heavenly, his grip on you dominant yet caring.

"You feel so good," Joost grunted and the sound of his voice pushed you over the edge.

Your back arched off the bed, your breath hitched and your muscles clenched until the wave of pleasure crashed down over you and you came with a series of obscene moans. As you were still riding out your high you noticed Joost's thrust becoming slopier and his moans louder until he came with stuttering hips and plopped down beside you.

You looked at each other breathing heavily and both let out a soft laugh. Joost lifted his arm to invite you to cuddle up to him. You rested your head on Joost's shoulder, your fingers softly drawing along the lines of Joost's tattoo on the side of his stomach.

"Was this okay?" Joost asked. "Are you okay?"

"Of course," you smiled. "This was perfect."

~

The ringing of your alarm on your phone woke you two up in the morning. Your limbs were entangled with Joost's, his heartbeat steady where your hand was laid on his chest. Joost rubbed his eyes, his hair messy and you never saw him look any cuter.

"What's this?" he complained before you got out of bed to turn off your alarm. As you turned around to face Joost again you noticed his eyes widen in shock. You stopped.

"What's up?" you asked blushing as Joost stared at your naked body. Confused you looked down your body and let out a gasp. "Fuck fuck fuck," you whispered, your hand in front of your lips. "This is bad." You sat down on the edge of the bed and you could feel Joost shift behind you to get closer to you. You looked down at your thighs which were littered in pink and purple hickeys. You desperately rubbed your fingers over them as if doing that could help you get rid of them.

"Oh, liefde," Joost said, his hand cautiously resting on your waist. "I'm so sorry."

"It's fine," you laughed unconvincingly, trying to calm yourself down. Joost's fingers softly grazed your collarbones and you looked down only to discover even more hickeys. "Oh god," you groaned.

"On your neck as well," Joost said meekly.

You put your face into your hands and cursed yourself for having chosen a very revealing stage outfit. "It's fine," you actually laughed this time.

"Are you sure?" Joost looked at you like a puppy who had just been caught breaking an expensive vase.

"Yes," you said and wrapped your arms around his neck. "Nothing some good foundation and an impromptu costume change can fix," you said although you already dreaded what you would have to tell your delegation about those hickeys. You leaned forward to gently kiss Joost's lips. "It was worth it," you said after pulling back and Joost gave you the proudest sweetest smile you had ever seen. Definitely worth it.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Hi !!!! I’m sorry if this is bothering you and if so you can totally ignore this but…

I’ve been thinking about how Ghost would react to reader gradually pulling away from him because she gained some weight and is self conscious and ashamed and doesn’t want to be seen by him, so sculpted and beautiful… but of course he’s feeling low because he wants to be close to reader and so he asks and she finally explains it to him (ready to be broken up with…)…. And I’d love to read your take on it !

You can make it female or gender neauteal I don’t really care !!!! Thank you anyway ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Wildflowers Grow in Ruins

(Ghost x F!Reader, word count: 5 k)

Summary: Reader tries to break up with Ghost because she thinks she's not good enough for him.

Tags/warnings: FLUFF, soft sensual smut 🔞, hurt/comfort, light angst, Jealous!Ghost, Soft!Ghost, self-loathing & self-body shaming. Good girl talk/praise kink. Reader is female and wears a skirt for smut plot purposes.

A/N: I hope you like this take & I hope you don't mind that I tweaked this request just a little bit!) Also: JFC I'm wordy. The "I need to explain why they're fucking!" meme comes to mind every time I write anything.

Wars are exhausting. 

You know fighting for something can empower people. Fighting against something usually just depletes your strength.

But waging a war against yourself… 

Now that is pure hell. 

It started somewhere in your youth. You thought adulthood would take it away; that reason and tolerance would take it away. You were supposed to feel more confident in yourself, more positive about life. And for a moment, you thought you might just succeed.

But standing beside a god of war is no easy feat.

He came into your life like a walking myth, swept you away, and you only laughed as you went. It was fun at first. He was supposed to be your savior, the solution to all your problems. If a man like him found you attractive, perhaps it was the world that was crooked and not you.

But then you got soft: you started to gain pounds. Meanwhile, he became even more magnificent. It reminded you that it had all been just a dream.

Perhaps it was his eyes that seemed to worship you, that seemed to look past your every flaw. Perhaps it was the hands which never seemed to get enough of your skin. Whatever it was, it was too much. And at the same time, never enough.

The day has finally come to let him go.

You think yourself heroic. It's like it should be: it's only right that you finally release him to someone better than you.

But inside, the noble feelings twist and turn and curl around your throat and stuff your stomach full of ice - the kind they fill glasses of mojito with. The drink you'll always remember him by because he teased you about it: that you wanted an ice-cold summer drink even in the middle of winter.

Now you feel cold all over, and wish he could warm you like he used to. 

You would forsake all the mojitos of the world to keep him. You would renounce the whole drink if it came to that; if you could make him yours.

But he's not yours. He never was: he was just on loan to give you a taste of what it would be like to have a man like him. That taste should be more than enough for a lifetime. You should feel grateful.

So why is it so hard to let go?

The key on the front door turns, and your heart shoots up your throat: you're supposed to settle this thing once and for all. You're supposed to let go of him today. 

And still, when he arrives, you can't find the courage to say what you need to say. The words are stuck in your throat, but tears are not. He should already be a memory, but you find yourself suffocating on memories as you cry. You've learned to do even that in silence, like the rest of your suffering.

You take a few deep breaths, wipe the tears away, shove the rest of them down your throat – you save them for later, later, when he's far away and you can finally curl up and cry your heart out without no one there to look. Fucking later.

Good. 

Good.

Great.

You put your heaviest armor on. It protects weak and soft flesh because you can't meet him all bare. Then you step forward with the knowledge that you’re a thoroughly wounded guerrilla while he is a seasoned, well-rested veteran. The fight is nowhere near even, but it's ok. You are not meant to be in the presence of immortals anyway.

The man looks at you warily as you finally enter the room. That haunted look has followed you for some time now as the distance between you has grown. 

It should be easy, what is about to come, because he hasn't touched you in weeks. You haven't wanted him to.

Or you have… But it's not easy to have his hands on you when your body is only a vessel you hate. How can you even think about pleasure when all you think about is how it must feel for him to caress something as awful as this?

The man is a vision, and he settles for a peasant. It should be against the law, but it's not… so you figured a some time ago that you should simply find the strength and grace to do ii: do what's right.

"I need to talk to you." 

Your voice comes out neutral, and it makes you more confident, if only for a second or two.

He lifts his chin: already knows what's coming, because he's not stupid. You've been shutting down for weeks, and he hasn't done much about it. But when the thunder rolls in, he doesn't flee. Probably because he fears nothing.

"Go ahead then," he says, equally as neutral, equally as icy. Got his armor on, too. 

This should be easy…

It's really not, so you decide to rip the band-aid off in one yank.

"I think we should go separate ways."

The following inhale from across the room pierces the air like a bullet. You can hear his breaths gain depth and speed all the way to where you're standing.

"Ok."

It doesn't look or sound like he's ok. If anything, he looks like he's trying to process the sudden storm. 

"Ok…" His eyes are on the floor as he rubs the back of his neck. Then he starts to pace around the little kitchenette you've shared for almost six months, just before you started gaining weight.

He stops to look out the window, then turns to you, and the hurt in his stare comes through like a thousand needles pushing through skin.

"Is it because of my work?" 

"No."

"What is it then?"

Your breaths are getting out of hand, too. He looks like a lost, tired creature in an abandoned animal shelter for a moment, and it breaks your heart. It squeezes the organ inside a flaming fist until it shatters like it has never been nothing more than ice.

Your lip starts to tremble, and he notices, as per usual. Nothing escapes this man, except perhaps the true reason for your anguish.

"Hey. Hey."

He comes to you and hugs you like it's the only thing that matters: to comfort you when he sees you're about to cry, no matter how crushed he's feeling himself. The sudden warmth, the intimacy after weeks and weeks of pain is knee-buckling. 

"Is there anything I can do to change your mind?"

His voice is soft, so soft… The tears rush forth now; there's no way of stopping them. What the hell can you even say to a question like that? That you wish he could grab a magic wand and turn you into someone gorgeous, the woman he deserves?

His embrace feels good, kind of. It also feels smothering because your self-hate makes you want to disappear from existence entirely. His eyes are equal to physical touch, a probing scan that sees every little flaw, not to talk about massive faults, the ones which make you feel like you're simply disgusting. His touch only reminds you how you must feel like to him: soft, too soft, weak.

And he must hate weakness.

"What do you need me to do? I'll do anything," he tries with a parched throat, then swallows. 

It's fucking horrible. This isn't going at all like you had imagined.

"It's not about you," you struggle out of his hold, and he lets you go with reluctance. You have to basically fight your way out of a bone and steel prison. Why would he even want to hold a pathetic woman who's on the brink of ugly crying on top of everything?

"What do you mean?"

He's slightly breathless – and restless as fuck. He's usually so calm; nothing can get to him, nothing can rattle the tower of raw strength. Now you've not only pierced some invisible armor; you can hear pieces of it falling on the floor.

"Have you found someone else?"

What the…

"No." You put as much weight on that word as you possibly can. To imagine that he thinks you are cheating… Fucking cheating on someone like him. "Jesus Christ…"

He takes a deep breath and sighs deeply, sighs out relief, perhaps. Then his razor-sharp stare fixes on you again, and you can see the fear turning into something akin to concern. You suspect you have to tell him the truth, otherwise he will dig it out of you. 

"I'm just…" 

Jesus, this is just humiliating. 

"I'm just not your type."

"What the hell are you talking about," he mutters, the impending fury giving way to momentary surprise. 

He gets intense sometimes. This time, the ferocity is born of barely concealed distress. He's broad and magnificent, even in despair. He’s just so fucking fine… The perfect man, someone you had never even imagined yourself with. Pulled down to the world of puny mortals, evidently stressing about losing one. 

Losing you.

"If you have someone new, you can just bloody well tell me."

"It's not that. You don't understand–" 

"Try me."

"I just…" A tear escapes down your face as you finally break for him. "I'm fat. Okay? And ugly. And–"

"Stop right there."

The look on his face is just… It's priceless, you suppose.

"Bloody fucking hell…" 

He looks at the floor, then runs his fingers through the short cut hair on top of his head. You've yanked those blonde strands more times than you can count, nearly every time he's been between your legs, and you miss it – you long for it, like fallen angels long for heaven. 

And if there was a time this man was rendered speechless, you would say you were witnessing that moment right now. His brows knit together, then he looks up at you again with blaring disbelief.

"You're serious?"

"Yes."

"This is the reason you wanna break up?"

Ugh.

"Yes?"

His voice grows rougher with every question until it resembles thunder, and you suspect this is the commanding tone his soldiers are used to hearing. 

But you're not: it's gravelly, harsh, and betrays the feeling of having been insulted. You feel even more devastated with yourself – it appears you can do nothing right.

"Where has this… idea even come to your head?"

"I don't know." 

"And you never thought to ask my opinion?"

"Would you please stop yelling," you whisper and blink back some putrid tears. His mouth is snapped shut, his head pulls back just a little as he realizes what he's done. 

"Sorry," he says with a half-whisper, and you catch the strain in his throat. You've never seen him cry, but now his voice is suddenly thin and frail. "I'm sorry."

He takes a step, then another, places fingertips on the counter as if to take the faintest support.

"Can I touch you?"

You don't really want him to do that, but you feel pity for the man. He's trying to find a way through this mess, and you want to help him.

"Yes," you whisper, and he immediately comes and takes you in his arms again. Hot tears disappear into his shirt, and you sniff a few times. He feels so good, so safe, even when you're about to lose him. His hold tightens around you, and the kitchen is silent; the whole world is silent. You don't know if you're being put to a grave or if you're in a deaf womb, waiting to be reborn.

"Now I don't know who's said this shite to you but ugly is the last fucking thing I'd call you," he declares above you. As if it was some bully whose fault it is that you were this way, a bully he could deal with with his fists or a gun. If only things were that easy…

"Have I said or done something? To make you feel this way?"

Then the blade is turned against himself. The man desperately searches for a culprit so he can deal with them.

"No," is the only thing you can say because it's true: he has never done a thing to make you feel like you weren't good enough; quite the contrary. But then again, he doesn't have to. It's enough that he exists and resembles a god.

"Then why do you think you're not my type?"

"Because you're so perfect," you hear yourself wail, no, cry into that shirt that smells of sweet safety and familiar musk – his scent, another thing you have missed like it's the only way to heaven.

"That for sure ain't true."

"But it is."

He seems to have the utmost difficulty in grasping what the issue here is. You can almost hear the wheels turning in his head with a rusty, laborious creak.

"Can't believe you wanna break up because of this," he finally says. You've chipped his pride, the ego that lives off of pleasing the ones he loves: the few chosen ones who he wants to give his whole life to. 

"To me, you're perfect," he then says, and you simply… You stop breathing. "You're like… my dream woman. Ever thought about that?"

It can't be true, even if you vehemently, desperately want it to be. You reach out to his words like they're precious food after years of famine. Like they're sun and spring rain after being buried in the cold, dark soil whole winter.

"No…?"

"Never occurred to you that I might find you fucking beautiful?"

"Stop," you whisper, because it's too much to take in. He sounds so serious, so sincere.

"No, I don't think I will."

He pulls back a little and cups your face. Brushes away a tear, looks at you with so much love that it physically hurts; you feel like it's a lance that slowly drives through your heart.

"How about I kiss every part I love about you?"

You let out a soft little whimper. Fuck, that you want him to… 

It would also be uncomfortable as hell. To try and let him love you and your body, which you have grown to loathe.

"It's gonna take all night, though. Wanna be as thorough as possible."

"Simon–"

"Love. I want you. Thought I'd made it pretty clear, but apparently I haven't. If you only knew how much–"

He sighs deeply. The man is frustrated with his shortcomings, thinks that this is all his fault. You cry a tear or two just for the sake of how absurd it all is. 

"I don't want you to go. I fucking love you. Everything about you."

For the second time this afternoon, your lower lip starts to tremble as if this was some stupid, romantic movie. He can be so soft when he wants to, more romantic than the soft-spoken gentlemen in Jane Austen's novels. It doesn't even require any effort: underneath the cynical surface, there's fiery emotion, so powerful and raw that it almost bleeds out of him. Fuck… Does he even know what he's doing to you?

"I love you too," you whisper back, and the warmth that starts to bloom in his eyes is an entire sun on its own. It's hope, and you believe him, almost believe him.

"Then I'd say it's a bloody bad idea to break up."

You chuckle while few more tears push through to the surface.

"Simon…" You sigh and look back up at him, your armor falling to the floor too. "I feel like a wreck."

You allow him to see the pain, all of it. His breath is sharp as it hits him, but he still doesn't waver.

"Then let me help you."

The arms around you gain more strength, and you're crushed against a chest made of power. He tries to turn shit to gold, and threatens to succeed. You allow yourself to soften in his hold. How good it feels to be supported – no, loved.

"You don't even let me touch you anymore."

It's a filed complaint, but also heart-rending, soul-wrenching longing. You have evaded him for weeks now – hell, this shit began months ago and has escalated gradually, stealthily, until the moments together were a rarity, the space between you was full of frost; and not the crispy, happy summer drink kind.

"I thought you'd found someone else. Could've found out if that was the case in minutes, but honestly, I didn't wanna know."

Oh my God…

Has he lived with a growing suspicion and dread all these months? 

That would explain why he has avoided you too…

He has allowed you to go to your supposed lover, has given you space to be alone and without too much attention. The man has shielded himself from pain. 

Jesus fucking Christ.

"I'm so sorry," you say with a strained little breath. "I swear it's nothing like that. I just… I feel like a mess."

"Never seen such a gorgeous mess." 

He speaks on your skin, the kiss on your forehead feels like an absolution. 

Then you notice it's not only his words which try to assure you. He's growing harder by the minute against your stomach, just from a simple hug. Just from being pressed against you like this, after weeks of dry, bitter longing.

"Miss your taste," he murmurs to your skin, his voice like sand wrapped in burning velvet. "The sounds you make when you want it hard."

Oh God–

"Miss your smile when we go to shower after."

"Hmh…"

"Don't wanna live without that smile."

You don't have to. 

God, you don't have to…

"How about we make a deal," he draws fingers down your chin, coaxing you to look up at him. His eyes are stripped from the cold distance that greeted you just moments ago: now they are filled with warmth that spreads to your chest and belly and bones. You drink him in like summertide.

"You come to me every time you feel bad and I'll make you feel good. Alright?"

"...Ok." 

He tilts his head a little to the side, not entirely satisfied with your shy little answer.

"Come on. Make me believe it."

"It's a deal," you say with more grit to it, even if you're nearly crying again, this time from relief.

"That's my girl."

Oh fuck…

He knows exactly what strings to pull, the good girl talk being one of the things that instantly makes your legs feel like jelly. 

And why does he always have to use that voice when he calls you a good girl or his girl, that sultry smoke that makes you want to swoon until he catches you and carries you to bed?

The man seems to be a mind reader as well, because he sweeps you off your feet and does exactly that: carries you to your bed which has mainly seen silent tears and painful sleep last months.

"Poor thing doesn't even know how lovely she is."

He sounds amused in the face of your darkness: sees it in full and still doesn't fear at all. He's ready to battle your demons for you, and you feel like shaking: from his touch and that voice, from the stress and loneliness that starts to release as he lays you down on the bed.

He looks so different from the man that has haunted this place for the past months, the complete opposite of the reserved soldier retreating into the shadows.

He moves to kiss you, and it's been – what? Weeks since your last kiss? And even that was only a quick peck, nothing like this… Wet, and desperate; a devouring. It makes you clench around nothingness, and you finally surrender. 

No one can fake such fervor.

You try to accept it: accept the fact that even if you hate yourself, he does not. For some reason, he adores you. His breaths hit your face hot and urgent, and he can't keep his hands to himself anymore. They wander over your waist and hips, they even risk to steal a feel of your breasts, and then he groans in your mouth.

"I've missed you. Fuck, I've missed you..."

You taste notes of burning leaves; tobacco, his only weakness. You fantasize on the thought that you might be another weakness, too.

"Remember when I fucked you in my office?"

"I've missed you too," you utter softly in between the kisses that threaten to turn into a sloppy mess. "So much..."

He smiles at that, and it makes you weak, even when lying down like this.

"Yeah…?"

"You were so loud I had to put a hand over your mouth."

His voice is thick as he laughs a short chuckle. Your inner walls clench again at the sound, you throb among the warm syrup surrounding you.

"Never seen you so wet. Almost dripped all over my gear."

"It's that stupid mask you wear," you hear yourself breathe like you've just been underwater. Feel yourself throb some more, feel a burning sensation in the nether areas from the scorched desert turning wet again. You want him so much that it actually hurts down there.

"Knew you'd like it. That's why I kept it on."

If this man keeps talking, your underwear is going to be utterly ruined. And of course he does; of course he continues to pour more love in your ear.

"Everyone looked at you like you were a queen," he grunts in your ear, sounding almost… pissed.

"Don't be ridiculous," you try to form sensible words. It's only a faint breath, really, but he huffs at your modesty. 

"You don't have eyes in the back of your head, love."

Wow… He is a bit pissed.

Had they checked your ass out when you visited him? 

It was the first and, what you thought, the last time you got to visit him at his workplace… but you never would have guessed the reason for him not asking you to visit again would be jealousy. 

"Don't worry. I put those fuckers in their place after you left." 

Whoa. 

Ok…

First, he had fucked you senseless in his office – a highly inappropriate move for a man in his position – then got jealous because some soldiers had checked you out as you left with his cum practically dripping from your cunt.

You put yourself in his shoes for a moment: he's had to live with thoughts of you running to some other man's arms when he's not home, and then watch you waltz around his workplace after making what was supposed to be the last effort to make him love you… When he has loved and adored you this whole time, has watched the sway of your ass with the rest of those home-deprived, horny soldiers, thinking you had fallen out of love and were on your way to go see some other guy.

Had he invited you there to try and win you back, too? By showing himself to you in all his puffed up, masculine glory? A desperate man in a skull mask, hoping to get love from you…

There's so many misunderstandings; they rip your throat. A sob escapes, and he stops his caress.

"Love… Tell me to stop if you–"

"No. No, I don't want you to stop." 

Your request comes out with such demand that he hesitates only a second or two. Then he moves on top of you and tugs your skirt up. You don't even have time to realize what is happening before he has worked himself out of his pants.

He's hard and heavy between your legs, and your eyes go wide as you realize he's not going to bother to take your briefs off. He just slides a hand under the skirt and draws the fabric aside, and the fat tip of him is pushed in the middle almost clumsily. It's hot, and slips down to your opening with ease.

Oh f–

"Been jerking off to you nearly every night at the base," he says just before he pushes himself in. 

"Uh–...."

Your thighs spread wide as he fills you slowly, inch after inch. The sound that leaves him is starved: a dry, painful sigh. He's been waiting for this for god knows how long, and you're just as hungry to take him in. He seems endless, the way he finally works himself fully inside, spreading you even wider as the thickening base of his cock reaches its end. 

"Thought you were getting railed by someone else while I only get to fuck my hand."

"Oh god…"

There's really nothing else to say as his balls press against you, heavy and taut. He's not going to last long.

"Yeah. Imagine that," he admits, breathless like you. 

You look at him with what must be the most helpless stare of longing in your eyes. Then he moves, and you want to grip him to keep him inside. The first thrusts are divine, they're pure heaven, and your head sinks deep into the pillow as you try to get enough air, try to not scream from pleasure already. Somehow, all you are able to utter is a desperate little whisper.

"Simon–"

His cock is good enough to bring tears to your eyes. You're starving too, you're pulling him in with fierce hunger, and he groans, then nearly falls forward, his weight pressing against you, swallowing you, until you feel like you're an idiot for thinking that you're too big. The thickness of his chest rubs against you as he makes love to you with passion that echoes the first times you did this.

"Just wanna adore you, love." He's panting desperate somewhere above you. A god and a man, both furious and gentle. "I wanna adore you. Just like this."

You answer him with what must be those sounds he told you about, the sounds you make when you want it hard. 

You want him to fuck you, to wreck you after weeks of loneliness and hate. To love you until you break into a million pieces.

"Simon," you whisper. "...Love me."

He halts, huffs in your neck. It's almost a sob. There's so much emotion and desperation in the air that it could be scooped up and sold in the streets.

"Always," he rasps in your ear, then moves to kiss you again. "Always."

The promise echoes around you, it coats your lips as he loves you with all he has. It's been so long, and he feels so good that you nails dig into his shirt, his shoulder, you try to hold onto him even though he's the wave that rocks you.

"You feel that?" He goes deep; he's out of breath and desperate, even more desperate than you. "That's love. You feel it, yeah?"

"Yes," you sob in his shoulder, tears trying to escape your waterline as you're going dumb from the pure sensation, the sensuality of it all. 

"That's it, love. That's a good girl," he turns to your neck and gruffs in your ear as you whimper and moan. "Always such a good girl."

Shit…

"I, I'm gonna…"

Your legs wrap around his middle, your muscles twitch and your hands reach and grab – they claw and yank and tug everything they can: his back, shoulders, shirt, something sturdy to keep you from drowning in a glorious orgasm.

He laughs in your neck and continues to grind you through your climax even when you're shattering, sighing, moaning, writhing under him. He just laughs, the man who never laughs: from witnessing you respond to him calling you a good girl.

Fucking bastard…

Lovable, infuriating bastard who knows you to your core. 

You're an overstimulated heap by the time he comes as well, not long after you, but long enough to make you feel like you're only a tender bunch of nerves. Your legs have fallen to the side, he has open access to take what he needs: you, your love, all of it.

His whole middle goes tense as he cums, he groans and swears somewhere deep into your neck, rolls his hips over and over again like it's a must that his balls press against you with every thrust that shoot his load. 

Then he falls slack, nearly collapses on top of you, reminding you of what it feels like to be small under a giant like him. You're throbbing together, you're full and fulfilled, and he is still lodged deep inside you, panting and broken in a sweat.

"Jesus Christ…" 

He sounds dazed. 

Relieved. 

"Should've done this weeks ago."

You laugh at seeing him so done – a man in love, torn by jealous yearning, finally taking what's his. You stroke his neck, his back – it's so good to have him finally there… So close, with no barriers in between.

"I should've talked to you weeks ago..." 

"Yeah. You should have."

"Are you going to punish me?" You giggle a little – the flirt is light and frees your heart further from its recent jail. He moves to look at you with all the tenderness there is. It's too much... His love is too much. But you won't run from it anymore.

"Nah. Think I'm gonna spoil you some more."

He spoils you right away with a kiss. You surrender to his treatment with happiness: happy tears, even. 

The medicine to your anguish has been the exact opposite to what you had first tried, what you had originally thought. The true remedy for your sickness is mercy. Perhaps some spoiling…

And love.

[hees-mine]

Comin’ back for more - L. HS

Pairing: heeseung & reader

Warnings: smut, protected and unprotected sex, oral, angst, alcohol, multiple orgasms, daddy kink ish, car sex, spitting, dirty talk, fluff, arguing, crying? jealously, cursing, hate sex.

Genre: 18+, exes with benefits, minors do not interact.

Synopsis: after you and your boyfriend of three years break up, it seems that even after you let each other go for good, there's one thing that keeps bringing you back together. With an unspoken arrangement to stay in contact only for the sexual aspect of your relationship, you both find yourself in an unexpected situation. Will that end what little of what was left of your relationship, or will it finally be the missing piece that brings you back together?

-

“Can I come over?” you text your ex-boyfriend, the same old text you’ve been sending for the last couple of months. It’s two in the morning, but you know he’s still up.

He’s always up.

You know this cause nearly every night, you’re at his place.

Why are you going to your ex's place at two in the morning, someone might wonder.

Well, it’s simple you’re just going there to fuck nothing more.

Even though you’re both exes, you’re still the best each other has ever had when it comes to the bedroom, and you didn’t have to think about going elsewhere to get it. Why would you when you could come to your ex, who is a very willing participant?

It started out with him saying he missed you five months after the break up. You both texted for a little bit, but ultimately, he went over to your place, saying it’d be better to talk in person. The talk was more argumentative than it was about finding a solution between one another. Voices rose, and tensions were high. He was yelling, you were yelling, and somehow, you both ended up just mere inches apart, and one thing led to another. Next thing you know, your lips touch, and he’s carrying you to the bedroom, both of you quickly stripping off your clothes and laying in bed together, and it was only minutes before he’s hovering over you, panting and giving you the pleasure that only he was capable of giving you.

After the mind-blowing hate sex, you both immediately set up an arrangement to keep in contact only for sex cause you and him could never be an item anymore.

There were far too many arguments and disagreements between you two, and neither of you could seem to get back on track without things only getting worse. The break up was mutual, very mutual, but that didn’t mean it was good for either of you.

You both grieved in your own ways without each other knowing.

But seeing him like this was the better way, no strings attached, but still being able to fuck without any rules or commitments.

“Waiting on you, baby,” he sends back a few minutes later, and that’s when you hop out of bed to take a shower and do your almost nightly routine to shamelessly get ready for your dick appointment.

You didn’t put on makeup cause it’d get smudge anyway, and there was no point in wearing a nice outfit because it would just end up crumpled on his floor while he gave you orgasm after orgasm.

After your shower, you got ready quickly and headed to his place, knowing the directions like the back of your hand. When you arrived, you went to his floor, sticking the key he gave you back when you two were dating into the key hole, twisting the knob, and once you opened the door, he was standing right there waiting for you as soon as you came in clad in nothing but his boxers. “Hi,” he smirks, taking a few steps closer to you.

Rolling your eyes, you kick off your shoes and drop your purse on the ground after shutting his door. “Enough with the small talk. Just take me to your bedroom.”

His brows raise in surprise. Despite hooking up with you like this for the past few months, he still isn’t used to how bold and direct you’ve become after the breakup. When you guys used to date, he initiated most of the time, and you were always a little shy to come on to him, but not now. You wasted no time getting straight to the point.

Now standing directly in front of you, he grabs your waist right hand, crawling up to your neck as you breathe heavily with anticipation. Bending down, he ghosts his lips over yours teasingly and nudges his nose against yours. “Hurry up,” you breathe out, not in the mood for his games tonight.

“Just shut up,” he whispers, closing the gap, his voice far softer than the rough, sensual kiss he gave you. Within an instant, his tongue was down your throat as he kissed you harshly. A few seconds later, his warm tongue began to play with yours while you took turns sucking and nibbling on each other's lips.

He pulled back to take a breath, both your guy’s eyelids hooded with arousal.

He bent down one arm behind the backs of your knees, the other on your lower back. He unexpectedly lifted you up, taking you straight to his bed where he planned on fucking you so damn good.

He lightly tossed you on the mattress. “Up,” he says once he’s stuck his fingers inside the hem of both your sleep shorts and panties.

Obeying his request, you lift your hips, allowing him to strip you of your bottoms. “Already so wet for me,” he teased. “Bet you were at home just thinking about my dick fucking into you. All those dirty thoughts got your little pussy nice and wet, huh baby?” He asks, climbing in the bed between your legs and rubbing your thighs softly.

“Hee jus-“

“Just admit it.” he knew the answer already. He just wanted to hear it come from your pretty lips.

“Yes, hee, you already know how much I need you.” he smiles, satisfied with your response as you writhe in bed, waiting impatiently for him to take you.

“Sit up for me, baby.” You sat up quickly upon his command.

“I’m not your baby anymore, so stop calling me that.” he doesn’t say anything about that and grips the hem of your shirt, lifting it above your head as you put your arms up, helping him rid you of your clothes.

He’s met with the sight of your perky tits that flop out of your shirt on full display for his eyes only.

Placing a hand on your left breast, he squeezes softly, getting the first little whimper out of you.

He pushed you back on the bed hovering over you and placing his mouth on your right tit, sucking your nipple into his warm mouth while kneading and pinching the other.

Your back arched at the feeling, your hands softly resting on his back while he suckled on each nipple. “Hee,” you whined, his name, eyes fluttering closed as you took in the feeling of him pleasuring your breasts and sensitive nipples.

Your hand slowly reaches up until you find his hair, running your fingers through it as he groans softly.

Spreading your legs open with his knees, he rises up from your chest, licking his lips before lowering himself on his bed. “Gonna let me tongue fuck your pussy baby?” He rubs your thighs, fingers smoothing over the soft flesh.

“Yes,” you sigh, pressing your head into his pillows as he watches a glob of wetness seep from your hole.

He dives in immediately, licking at your hole, slurping up your juices, and swirling it on his tongue, savoring the flavor before using the tip of his tongue to teasingly circle around your little hole.

“Hmm fuck” you squeezed your breasts while he licked your pussy, tugging and rolling your nipples between your fingers. The sight of you touching yourself while he tongued your pussy was making him get ridged in his boxers.

He slipped his tongue inside you, pumping in and out of your cunt deliciously before he pulled it out and slipped two long thick fingers inside your slick cunt. “You’re fucking soaking my fingers” he sucks on your clit and begins to curl his fingers moving them in and out of you, listening to your pussy squelching around his digits. “Hear that? So fucking wet,” he pushes in and out slowly, your slick sounds filling up the room, and you almost feel embarrassed by how wet you were for him.

“Hee,” you whined, and he chuckled softly, rubbing the pads of his fingers against your soft, silky walls.

“Taste so fucking good, mmhp baby,” he groans, rutting himself on the mattress impatiently. “I could eat you all fucking day.”

“Yes, hee, I’m so close don’t stop,” You breathe out, your chest heaving up and down as you clench around his fingers. You were just about to cum when he stopped entirely. “Why did y-“

“Turn around,” he quickly orders.

“I hate you,” you say frustratedly as your orgasm withers away, but the pulsing ache between your legs persuades you to turn around and get on all fours.

Read full story here

[cupcakeslushie]

For your brainwash au, do we get so see exactly how Donnie got captured by Kendra? And would this au be a full comic or just bits and pieces here and there? (Not pressuring just curious) Love the au and I hope you’re having a good day! :)

Don’t know why, but I felt like writing this part out instead of drawing it! (Sorry for bad grammar. I wrote this lying in bed, sleep deprived and did no editing)

——

The sad, pained look on his little brother’s face is enough to set off that dark protective fire in Donatello’s belly. And Michael has been a tiny storm of negative emotions since Leo slapped the small cast on his ankle. Donnie may not be able to pick apart and decipher all of the subtitles his brother is feeling right now, but he knows he’s in pain, and that’s enough.

“How many strips of bacon do you think we can get from Meat Sweat’s corpse?” Donnie ponders as he wraps an arm around his little brother’s shoulders, and carefully pulls him closer. Mikey lets out a quiet huff, but the joke doesn’t land the way Donnie had been hoping.

“Michael?”

“I’m okay,” Mikey assures. Then a hesitant second later adds, “it’s stupid.”

“Oh well if it’s stupid, allow me to grab ‘Nardo. He might be able to help you better.”

That gets the laugh he was looking for.

“I’m not in pain or anything. It’s just, tonight was the midnight signing of Joshua Bear’s new cook book. He’s a YouTuber chef that I’ve been following for years, and I went to his first release…I really wanted the second for my collection.”

Donatello does vaguely remember Angelo telling Raph something about this event last night, during dinner. He’d been so excited, and now he looks crushed at the idea of missing it.

“What if I went?” At the suggestion, Mikey’s face becomes brighter than a super nova, almost too bright for Donnie to stare at directly. It takes a moment for Michael to really calm down enough to speak.

“You’d really go wait in line for three hours? Just to get a book?” Donatello laughs at the question. Any opportunity in which his brothers were interested in the world of literature, no matter the subject (except maybe geology) was a time to be supportive.

Mikey pulls him in for a tight hug, and holds up his phone to snap a picture of them. Donnie snorts and slides out of his little brother’s hammock, careful not to disturb it too much. Mikey is already bouncing enough that he’s in danger of falling out.

“Yes, yes. Sing my praises on all your media socials. Let the world know how I’m your favorite older sibling!” Mikey drops the phone to his chest and holds his arms up, practically vibrating for one more hug. Donnie complies. He’s long given up maintaining his bad boy image when it’s just the two of them.

“You’re the best, Donnie! Really!” The words do a hell of a job replacing that previous fury he’d been harboring, the smile and warmth coming from Mikey, now fully restored. The proper order of the universe righted with a simple solution. This was what he loved most about being a brother. Fixing his siblings problems, in any way he could. And if healing the broken bone outright was (for now) out of his control—at least he could do this.

Donnie glances at his watch and notes he should get going if the turn out is going to be as big as Angelo predicts. He sneaks past the living room where he can hear his other two brethren yelling over a game of Mario Kart. He has zero interest in either of his brothers tagging along. He loves them, but neither are suited to standing in a long line for hours. For the last Jupiter Jim reboot, Donatello was seconds away from a double fratricide before they were even allowed into the theater.

Besides. He’s practically 18 (in four weeks). He can run up to the surface for a few hours, without having to call upon the archaic buddy system.

———

He’s in line for about an hour, when he sees suspicious movement out the corner of his eye. A young woman, parting the line a little ways ahead from where he stands, walks quickly into the closest alley. That alone might be no cause for alarm—maybe it’s a short cut. But the tall, hooded creep trailing after her, has his metaphorical hackles rising. It’s a clear case of sinister intentions. He quickly glances around to see if anyone else has witnessed this, but he’s the only one who seems to be showing any type of concern. Typical New York.

“What a town” Donnie sighs. He doesn’t bother asking the old man behind him to save his spot, seeing as he’s practically at the end of the line, and quickly races to the alley to play hero.

It’s a deep one, the lights of the street not quite hitting all the eerie nooks and crannies. Plenty of blind spots.

“Hello there? Stalker and or damsel in distress? Is anyone in need of assistance? Anyone hopefully bear maced and in need of a being escorted to the nearest precinct?”

No answer.

The non-existent hairs on Donnie’s arms stand straight up. Just as he’s reaching for his ninpo to materialize a bo-staff, something thick wraps around his neck from behind. The arm is almost as big as Raphael’s, if lacking in the muscle department.

But before his can break the hold, the solid feeling of a needle slides into the meat of his neck and something rushes into his veins. Within seconds he’s released and stumbling from the lack of support.

Someone is talking to him. It takes a second of his gaze bouncing around to pick them out. Mildly embarrassing, considering they’re standing right in front of him now. Out of all the colors popping in and out of his vision, Donnie only just catches the same turquoise hoodie that seemed to belong to the unassuming young woman.

A honey pot trap, he realizes, stumbling and falling pathetically backwards on his own ass.

He sees pink hair and is almost relieved, if humiliated. With all their enemies, the Purple Dragons are D tier. But the chances he can free himself before his brothers even notice his absence is high. Just the thought of the savage teasing he would be forced to endure if his brothers found out—Donatello is not eager to hear any of it.

As the nauseating colors finally bleed away, and start to leave black growing in their wake, Donatello swears to cause a big explosion on his way out.

[kedreeva]

#we spoke of this a LOT at work after that one tech was murdered and hidden in a wall

hi!👋 hello! kedreeva! i’m going to need to ask you to explain this!!!!

So back in 2009, a lab student named Annie Le was murdered at Yale university. Cameras saw her going on into a building, but not out again and it was like, the eve of her wedding (or close to? I don't remember) so clearly she had places to be and people waiting for her so they immediately started looking and the next day (or so? Anyway on the day of her wedding) they found her body in a recess in a wall, down in the areas where the research animals were kept. It turns out, a tech had killed her, but since there were cameras like EVERYWHERE, he just, I guess, left her there. Well, hid the body where it was. I don't remember how they caught him, but they did. It was a horrifying story. It still is.

And it was a huge news story among the folks at my workplace because, at the time, I was working at a different university, as an animal husbandry technician. As you can imagine this was a kind of intense time to be in that situation. They started offering, like, I'm not gonna say counseling but it was "if you need to talk we would prefer you talk to us about something wrong rather than kill anyone about it" and as techs (even if we were not even the same kind of tech, the killer was a lab tech and we were husbandry techs but I think a lot of people assumed it had been a husbandry tech since she was in an animal area), we were kind of getting the side eye from lab people for weeks afterwards. Like they thought we were gonna go "wow that's a fantastic idea, you're next!" or something, idk. And I mean like, people would freeze when you were alone in a hallway, or turn and walk the other way, or duck into the nearest room and watch you walk past, and they were all being super nice/civil to us when they did have to interact. It was very atypical behavior for lab people. Like not all of them, some of them had always been nice and weren't worried, but some of the people who had been unbelievable dicks previously were walking on eggshells. And the people who had friends in other universities reported this was happening at their jobs, too.

And instead of talking to The Man (because all the higher ups were garbage at the time), we just. talked among ourselves. It was a lot of "I may say I feel like strangling lab people sometimes when they do things that drive me up a wall but I don't MEAN it you know that right" and it also led to group discussions of what would be a theoretical *better* solution to hiding a body than what happened, with clear disdain for doing things like hiding bodies in walls, which is a terrible idea and one we would never do (looking at the people who think we might have decided this was a great idea actually).

Which consequently led to a lot of supervisors and/or managers that happened to overhear us bringing us donuts or arranging pizza for lunch in like, some kind of bid to help us feel appreciated, I guess, so that we wouldn't murder anyone, even though none of us were going to do that anyway. But also none of us were in a position to turn down free donuts or pizza or whatever.

And then after a few weeks, maybe a month or so, people just kind of forgot and moved on and things went back to normal like fifty people hadn't spent every lunch hour for weeks talking quietly among themselves about how human bodies would definitely fit into a carcass disposal barrel or that you'd have to crush hip bones and/or skulls before incineration. Hypothetically.

Like I said, it was a VERY weird time to be at my job, and every time I remember it happening feels like a fever dream. I can't even imagine what it was like at Yale.

[surielstea]

Bloody Besottedness

Eris Week, day six: AU (vampire)

Pairing: Vampire!Eris Vanserra x Human!Reader

Summary: During a blood shortage, reader can’t help but feel inclined to share her precious blood to the male who had only ever been kind to her.

Warnings: Mostly fluff | slight NSFW | Blood | Blood drinking | Descriptions of blood and very tame gore | dry humping (?)

A. Note: Vampre Eris has been living in my head rent free as of late and I thought I might share to get the rest of you addicted 😈

5.3k words.

Eris paced the hall back and forth, antsy in his movements as he continued to pass by me, then pivoted with a sharp turn, passed by me again, then repeated. This went on for what felt like hours as I sat there, doing nothing but trying to think of solutions for our situation.

We had been low on blood supply for the past month, the vampire I was living with foolishly did not tell me and I had been oblivious until he told me last week that we were officially out, and completely ran dry.

The whole town was in a shortage, the human lands off limits and penalized by death if a vampire were to seek them out as prey. But it was winter and the animals were in hiding. It was a wonder how it ever got this bad, but there were greedy males out there, and they took more than what was deserved.

The royals had more than others by fault, so by the time Eris had run out it meant we were truly arid as in, even the last of the deer in the forest had been hunted down and were long gone by now.

Vaughn, one of Eris's kinder brothers, and Cat, Vaughn's lover came in through the large double doors with panicked expressions and a paler-than-usual complexion.

"Oh gods, not you guys too," I stand to greet them but Eris merely continues his pacing, not paying them any mind.

"How long has it been since you ran out?" I say, crossing my arms over my chest anxiously.

"This morning, you?" Catalina questions. I look back to Eris and his unrelenting pace, like if he stopped he wouldn't know what to do with himself.

"Last week," I murmured and Cat audibly gasped, Vaughn was staying eerily quiet. "Why haven't you hunted anything?" She asks urgently, her eyes alight with both concern and rage.

"He didn't want to leave me alone while we're on a shortage like this, and he didn't want me going out either," I explain. Vaughn examines me, truly looking at me with a glaze over his eyes, displaying an emotion I didn't recognize. "Hey, Vaughn are you okay?" I reach out towards him but he grabs my wrist, gripping it hard before I can make contact with him. "Vaughn," I grit out. A low growl sounds in the base of his throat as I attempt to pry him off. "Vaughn," Catalina strikes him in the side and his hold around my wrist loosens, he blinks once, twice, looks at both of us then notices the red marks around my wrist. "Oh gods, I'm so sorry," He immediately lets go, pulling his hand to his chest like he's just committed something wretched.

I'd be lying if I said I hadn't just been terrified of his nails piercing my skin. Who knows what what three hungry vampires might do to a human who started bleeding, even if they were my friends.

"We're going to go find some food, we'll bring you back whatever we can," Cat smiled at me reassuringly even though I knew she was just as hungry as the male beside her. I can only nod silently in reply. "Try and talk to him," She nods towards Eris. "He'll listen to you." Then she grabbed Vaughn by the wrist like he had mine, and pulled him out the door to go shoot down the largest animal they could find, with our luck, it'd be a rabbit.

I turn back to the red-head still pacing the hall like a madman, a starved man rather. "Eris," I begin as he passes by me. He puts his palm up toward me, telling me not to speak— not because he wouldn't listen, but because if he did he knew he'd be persuaded by whatever I have to say.

"I know my weaknesses so just, don't," He warns, then returns to his pacing. Despite our situation, I couldn't help but feel flustered by that.

I sigh and sink back into the chaise, my eyes following him as he goes back and forth across my view. I sit there in the silence of his footsteps. I was in my fourth position on the chaise before I got fed up and stood, walking into the pathway he's retraced hundreds of times now. "Eris," I warn before he can ram into me. He stops one pace away. "I'm going to make dinner, you need to eat," I explain.

"I can't," He sighs. We've tried, it was true. Even the meat he can barely get down without a drink of blood to go with it.

"It's better than nothing," I sigh. "Cat and Vaughn will be back with some for you in a few hours just, try and eat what I make alright?" I take a step closer and he matches it with a step back. "I'm not going to hurt you," I sigh in a reassuring tone and he shakes his head.

"No, I'm afraid I might hurt you," He confesses and my caring demeanor falters.

Oh.

I was so mindless that it hadn't even occurred to me that he'd be capable, he'd been telling me about how dangerous it was to be near a hungry vampire for months, and yet when it came to him that thought immediately voided, because, it was him. "You won't," I steel my features.

"You don't know that," He whispers like he's done it before, hurt me before, fed on me before. "Your smell it's, it's everywhere," He looks around as if he might be able to see it.

"My, smell?" I tilt my head. I knew vampire senses were much stronger than those of humans, but could he truly smell people?

"Gods, it's heavenly darling," He sighs, my scent seeming to be suffocating him.

"Is there any way I can control it?" I offer taking another step forward and this time he matches it again, doesn't let me come near, and doesn't indulge that restless hunger growing inside of him. He shakes his head with a soft whine, backing up against the wall forcefully so he doesn't pounce.

"I'm sorry, Eris," I back away, going towards the kitchen. "They'll be back soon, I'll make food— I know it's not what you want but, it's better than nothing okay?" I mumble. He only nods, afraid of opening his mouth, afraid his teeth will somehow find their way into my neck if he responds. So he kept it sealed shut and only stared longingly from the end of the hall.

I disappear into the kitchen and only a moment later, the sound of his pacing returns.

I hum a soft tune, a lullaby my mother used to sing for me at night, knowing it so well that I could get through every lilt and swing of the melody without so much as a stumble.

The food I had prepared wasn't gourmet by any means, it was a quickly thrown-together plate of chicken, broccoli, and potatoes. Chicken blood is the cheapest at the markets, easy to source, and rancid to taste. But it got the job done so I drained as much of it as I could from the bird, after filtering it I only came up with about a cup, drinkable but not enough.

There were barely any nutrients in chicken's blood, a whole gallon wouldn't be enough to feed a male like Eris.

Human blood, however, a drop could satiate the average child, which meant a cup like this would leave Eris satisfied for at least another week, just until the shortage was over.

I debated it. Wondered if I could spare just a few drops into the cup, give him just enough to keep him from going over the edge, and reward him for all the restraint he's had. But I'm quickly reminded of why he has that restraint, he's not only keeping himself from crossing that boundary but he is also keeping me alive. If a vampire was feeding on a human, then the human's survival rate quickly became slim. The venom of their teeth left us defenseless, meant to be pliable and lithe, turned into this shell of skin, meant for the blood in our veins alone. The effects depend on the human, some pass out, some become incapable of thinking, and some even become aroused. I didn't know which one I was, and I wasn't in the business of finding out.

It wasn't just the venom of their teeth, but that blood soon became the vampire's sole craving until they could no longer satiate it, until the source for it was gone and they had to find a new victim. If Eris had gotten a taste I fear his control would shatter and he'd become like Vaughn, a glossy-eyed predator who wants nothing more than to feed.

But if he didn't know, if I could slip a few drops in, would it be that harmful? All signs were pointing to yes but I was desperate to help him.

I sighed in contemplation, then ultimately decided that to give him even a few drops I'd have to make an incision somewhere in my skin, which any vampire in a mile radius would be capable of smelling, it was luck that Eris had sent the cooks and the guards home last week for the rest of the shortage.

So I didn't give him any, forced myself to watch him suffer for a few more hours until Cat and Vaughn returned.

"Food's ready Eris," I peek my head down the hall. He was sat on the chaise, his head in his hands as he muttered something to himself.

Gods I was worried about him, beyond worried.

I walk closer, still keeping my distance. "Eris," I call again. He doesn't move but his muttering stops which relieves a small part of my unease. I knew I shouldn't have though I couldn't help but step that final stretch between us, crouching down in front of him and placing a hand on his shoulder. "Eris?" I call and his head snaps up with a snarl, baring his very sharp, very deadly teeth at me. I scramble back in both shock and fear, leaning back on my hands with apprehension creasing my brows.

His eyes were glossy, his nose twitching, those signs of craving I should've been recognizing. "Eris," I whisper and he blinks, the sheen over his eyes disappearing with that movement.

"No, no, I'm so, so sorry," He sighs out like he's let himself down more than me, he moves to the floor where I still sat, fear still lingering in my gaze as he comes closer.

"It's fine," I say before he can get too close. "Dinner's on the table, I'll be in my room if you need me," I murmur, standing up and brushing off my dress.

"Darling," Pleads, his tone wobbling, his eyes glassy. Not with desire, with regret. He was the depiction of apology, on his knees with his hands in his lap as his eyes shone with sincerity.

"They'll be back soon, we can talk after, I promise," Once he was no longer a threat, we would talk.

"I'm sorry," He whispers and even from a hallway away I can hear the despair in his voice. My heart crumbles at the sight, but I know better than to give in, so instead I mutter my reply,

"Me too." Then I pivot on my heel and retreat into my bedroom.

I told him to find me if he needed to, I knew he wouldn't seek me out, even though I desired to see him despite his state of starvation. I knew better than anyone it was dangerous, and learned from past vampiric lovers that it was nearly impossible to live in harmony with each other. They always end up asking for a taste, just a drop, until it turns into something more. I never let them bite me, never.

Once I had been on the lap of my boyfriend-at-the-time, and his teeth brushed over my neck, about to sink in. It was too close of a call. He apologized profusely but in the end, he knew I wasn't safe with him any longer, and he let me go.

I haven't been with a vampire since. I hadn't planned on catching feelings for Eris, yet it wasn't something I could control. It was a feral beast that couldn't be caged no matter the strength of the obstacles. It persisted and fought, then came out without a scar or scratch on it. Untamed and wild.

I was curled into a ball in my bed that was all too large for my body, made for elegant, long limbs I didn't hone.

After an hour of lying with my thoughts, I heard the front double doors open to the frigid cold, wind howling and racking against the windows. Catalina and Vaughn must've returned. I didn't get up to greet them. I could hear the muffle of their voices echoing from down the hall and that was enough.

I couldn't pick out any words, just a slow conversation. Catalina did most of the talking. When vampires fed it was loud, it was messy nauseating, and gruesome. I heard none of it. The duo didn't stay for long, they were in and out within fifteen minutes. Which terrified me. Could they not find anything when hunting? That thought hadn't even occurred to me until now.

I scrambled out of bed and marched right into the sitting room where an empty glass sat on the coffee table, only a few drops sat at the bottom, the remnants of what he'd already drank.

Eris sat on the sofa, his head tilted back with his hands over his face. If he knew I was near he didn't show it. "It'll be dawn soon, you should get some rest," I mutter, his hands leave his face and he looks at me lazily. "Did they bring any more?" I look at the empty glass, the remains showing it was only a quarter full.

"No," He replies blandly.

"What if—" I step closer.

"No," He immediately shuts down.

"You don't even know what I was going to say!" I cross my arms with a pout. "I'm not stealing your blood and that is final," He rules.

"It's not stealing if I'm offering," I mumble stubbornly beneath my breath sourly. A small smile pulls at the corners of his mouth.

"That's my girl," He drones, a smirk playing at his lips, with a familiar snarky tone. It felt nice to be back, even if he only got a quarter cup of blood, I didn't want to know which animal it was from. I didn't ask.

"I trust you, Eris," I confess and the word feels foreign on my tongue. Trust. It sent a shiver down my spine, I was taught not to feel that way about anyone, especially not a vampire. Yet here I was, ready to bear my soul to him. "I trust you enough to control yourself," I continue and he opens his mouth to protest but I speak before he can, "I'm begging you, I hate— I hate seeing you like this." We both ignore the stumble of my words, the situation too earnest to hold his usual witty remarks and sly smirks.

"Did you at least drink the chicken blood? Eat any dinner?" I ask when he doesn't reply, only stares at me.

"I ate as much as I could," He reassured. Which told me he had at least a few bites of everything.

"And the blood?" I propped my hands on my elbows like a disappointed mother.

"I drank it," He frowned. "Tasted like the south end of a damned Naga hound," He uttered bitterly and I giggled, a smile spreading over my face because he was back, joking and teasing. "C'mere," He beckons me closer.

My smile fades as I settle over his lap, straddling his hips as he adjusts beneath me, hands on my thighs and I realize it's not to brace me but to put me in control, to push me away if he needs to.

"You're sure about this, sunshine?" He asks.

"It won't hurt, will it?" I whisper and his eyes soften.

"Only a pinch, then the venom will settle in and you'll barely feel a thing," He reassured. I swallow thickly. "I need you to be sure about this," He raises his brows a fraction, stressing his words. I simply nod. "Words, love, use your words," He urges. I swallow down my fear. I'm in control.

"I'm sure, I trust you," I say and his eyes soften, then blaze with desire. Not uncontrolled like Vaughn, but unfiltered need like he's experienced it before he was even starving.

He reaches up to my bare thigh, where the slit of my nightgown was and he pulls my dagger from its holster wrapped around my thigh. "If I don't stop in the first five minutes, use this okay?" He hands me the wooden-bladed dagger. My hand shakes when I take it from him.

"Okay?" He repeats.

"Okay," I nod in a rushed manner.

His hands are warm as he moves my hair to one side of my shoulders, the pane of my neck completely bare, my clavicle, my collarbone, and my cleavage all laid out on display by the immodesty of my slip dress. "You're safe," His breath fanned over my neck and I nodded, believing everything that those two words meant.

He didn't bite, instead, his first touch to my skin was a soft brush of his lips, a kiss. It was sweet and innocent, and the feel of it reminded me of that ex-boyfriend, the one who had come so close to biting me, and now I was offering it to another.

His lips linger over my pulse point before they seal along the skin, his tongue flattening to the area before the prod of his fangs, then the incision. His bite was slow and gentle, I felt my warm blood stream from my neck and as soon as the crimson ichor met his tongue he let out an involuntary groan, his mouth working wonders over my throat.

He had been right, it didn't hurt, it had been delectable as if I was the one feeding off of it.

I thought for a moment that I'd pass out when the venom set in, or my mind would shut off entirely and I'd become a husk, but as his tongue lapped at the red and his teeth dug deeper I found myself letting out soft gasps of pleasure, telling me that I was the third and rarest option, the one of arousal.

I smiled at the realization. I didn't want to pass out, I didn't want to lose thought, I wanted to experience this, feel this, bathe in this.

Gods I hadn't expected it to feel so good or I would've done it sooner, would've given him every drop— oh, gods this venom is powerful. I can barely keep my grip on the dagger.

"Eris," I whine out and he continues to drink, his tongue running over the expanse of my neck greedily. I didn't want him to stop, I never wanted this to end.

The dagger tumbled from my hold, my hand in favor of going into his amber hair, my other hand on his jaw as I threw my head back, giving him even better access. Wanted him deeper, wanted him nestled inside of me, wanted every inch of him. I sighed out his name yet again and he met it with a groan of immense pleasure.

He reached for the wooden blade, forcing it back into my hands because even beyond his hazy mind of arousal, he still put my safety above all else.

I grind down over his hips, feeling the hardness in his pants that developed as soon as he tasted me. Was he aroused too? Did he feel the burn in his heart too?

My hands ached to be on his skin, I unbuttoned his shirt with fast hands, palms flattening against his abdomen once I got the white dress shirt off of him. My fingers slide into every crevice of his chest, the muscles of his arms, and the grooves of his back. But by the Mother, I needed more, needed all of him.

Slowly, so slowly, he lifted from my neck. His teeth left my throat licked clean save for the two slits from his canines. I panted, continuing to wind my hips over him in pure lust.

His lips were stained with my blood, a drop cascading from the corner of his mouth but I didn't care, I crashed my mouth onto him and he returned it with a fierce force.

Everything about him was warm and comforting, his large hands roaming my waist, my hips, my thighs. His lips felt like heaven and the metallic taste of myself on his tongue made me entirely feral. He was an expert with his tongue, exploring my mouth with it like he had to memorize the feel as if he might never get the chance again. I couldn't help but imagine what it'd feel like to have his tongue in other places. I continued to rut my hips over his hardened length, earning that friction I craved just as much as he craved my blood.

My legs quivered as he gripped my bare thigh, past the empty holster and up into my flimsy dress. His fingers slipped beneath the elastic of my panties, holding my bare hip in place, and stopped me from rocking them back and forth. The way he kissed was all-consuming, taking everything from me in just a kiss, it was carnivorous and robbing, he took and took and all I could do was give, all I wanted to do was give. I would've shoved my heart down his throat if he didn't take it.

But then he pulled back and when I chased he gripped my hip tightly in warning, restraining me.

"You're influenced by the venom," He panted and I frowned.

"I want you," I murmured and his grip loosened, but stayed at my hip, a threat.

"The venom is telling you that," He sighs as I slump into his shoulder. "You're intoxicated too, aren't you? That means we both wrongfully consent," I murmur.

"That logic makes no sense— and I'm not intoxicated," He defends. I crease my brows dumbly. He was hard beneath me, I knew that for a fact, and he had just been kissing me like it was all he's ever wanted. So what did he mean?

"I need you," I sigh into the shell of his ear and he shivers at the words.

"I know, I know, my love there are chapter books of things I want to do to you but not tonight, not like this," He refuses and I frown, kissing up the side of his neck, my tongue brushing over the spot that he bit into on my neck, his pulse much slower than mine.

"Let's get you into bed, alright?" He says, his voice is soft.

"I don't want to leave you," I whine, wrapping my arms tighter around him. "Can I sleep in your bed tonight?" I murmur like a child afraid of the dark, asking to crawl in with her parents.

He sighs. "You mean my coffin?" He mutters and I giggle, kissing up his neck with pure adoration, the sensuality of it all voiding and being replaced by pure affection and soft intimacy.

"You're so funny, 'Ris," I murmur.

"Gods, that venom truly did a number on you didn't it?" He taunts and I incoherently nod my head, continuing my kisses that traveled up his neck.

"Alright fine, you can sleep in my bed tonight," He sighs and I all but cheer, clinging to him tighter with a wide smile as he stands up, cradling me from beneath my thighs and striding off to the end of the hall where his bedroom had lied in this sprawling complex of a mansion.

He laid me in the enormous bed first, the curtains cracked just enough to show the sunrise peering through the drapes. He shuts the sunlight out, leaving us in darkness then slipping in beside me, keeping his distance.

I pout, and without control over my better judgment, I scoot closer, throwing my leg over his torso and my arm around his shoulders. "Cuddle me, please," I whine and he chuckles, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling my chest into his. "Can you kiss me?" I test my luck.

"No," He immediately replies, his voice assertive and only making me giggle. 

"You sure?" I croon, my nose brushing against his as he looks down at me with a soft smile before groaning out, "How long is that venom supposed to last? I miss it when you would threaten me," He sighed, but the smile on his face spoke for itself.

"You kissed me earlier, what's so different now?" I persisted.

"Will you go to sleep if I do?" He prompts and I nod, I'd do anything for that kiss.

"Just one, please Eris," I beg and his eyes soften.

"You're going to kill me in the morning," He sighs, then leans down and places a gentle, reluctant kiss on my wanting lips and the taste of him satiates the unrelenting hunger in the pit of my stomach. When he backs away he doesn't let me ask for another and instead pushes my face into the crook of his neck and props his chin atop my head. “Sleep. Now,” He commands and I only sigh in contentment.

The morning came late. I must've slept through half the day. But the male behind me hadn't so much as shifted, even if he'd been up for hours, he stayed, not wanting me to wake up alone.

His arm was around my waist and his breathing was at its normal steady and slow pace, comforting. His chest was warm against my back and his thumb was caressing over the bite mark he had left last night, already a scar.

"Good morning 'Ris," I murmured through a yawn, and his thumb halted against my skin in slight shock.

"I thought you'd never wake up," He mumbles. "That would've been preferred than waking up next to you," I toss.

"There’s my girl," He sighs in relief. "I missed you," He murmured, pressing a kiss over my fresh scar. I turn slightly, hand coming to the back of his neck, looking up into his eyes. The color returned to his face, the glaze over his eyes wasn't one of hunger but rather adoration.

"I missed you too," I mutter, beyond happy to have him back.

"We didn't uh… did we?" I flush bashfully and he rolls his eyes dramatically.

"It hurts that you think you wouldn't already be aware," He grumbles as a smirk tugs at my lips.

"Maybe you didn't make it very memorable?" I hum and he glares at me because we both knew that Eris Vanserra couldn't do anything that wasn't memorable. Especially not sex.

"No, we didn't freak the sheets if that's what you're asking," He moves his hand from your waist and flips onto his back, fingers lacing behind his head, turning away from me.

"You seem disappointed," I observe, flipping on top of him as if he were a second mattress, nestling into his chest.

"We kissed," He muttered, he thought it was best if I knew.

“I remember," I reassured. "And I remember asking for one, and being the gentleman you are you said no, then gave in because I wouldn't shut up," I giggle into the crook of his neck. He peeks one eye open.

"You think I'm a gentleman?" He mumbles. I nod with a tight smile. "That's sweet of you to say sunshine, but unfortunately you've confused me with someone else," He sighs like he's disappointed with the lie that slips from his lips.

"Impossible, I've known you from the moment I met you," I say pulled me up higher, my face hovering above his while my legs sprawled and intertwined with his.

"Yeah? And what’s that?" He arched a brow. I nod, biting into my lower lip.

"A gentleman," I murmur, moving past him and snuggling my head into the crook of his shoulder.

"Is that venom still affecting you?" He asks as I cling to him.

"No," I mumbled. "I just missed you," I explain.

We lay there in silence for a moment, his hand tracing soothing circles on my back as I ran my hand through his fiery red hair.

"What are we going to do when you begin to starve again?" I ask and he sighs, not wanting to think about it.

"We're going to have to go out hunting— I'm afraid the others are going to think you’re prey just as well," He explains. They would. Vampires didn't care who I belonged to, even if it was their lord, I was still fresh blood, and the most craved type at that.

"How many times can you bite me until I turn?" I knew the answer, but I wanted him to know I'd do it again, and that I still felt safe around him.

"On the third bite you'd be turned, which means we can only do this once more," He explains.

"But I don't want to, you're a last resort— you're not even a resort unless you choose to be. Do you understand me?" He stresses.

"Mhm," I nod, clinging to him tighter. "I heard that vampires crave the human they bit until they drain them," I murmur.

"Or they die," He adds.

"So, do you crave me right now?" I ask.

"Your scent is stronger,” He shrugs. but maybe it's because I'm still full it's not affecting me." He adds.

"We should probably go hunting before you start to starve again, how long do you think your fill will last?" I question. "And don't lie to me this time, tell me the truth Eris," I instruct and he huffs.

"Probably by the end of the week, I'll need to feed again," he explains. "So we should go soon, make sure we're prepared if it comes earlier," I plan and he nods.

"Just lay here with me for a moment, don't worry so much about the future right now," He breathes out, tightening his arms around me.

"I can't help it, I'm a mere mortal time is limited," I remind and his smile falters, as if remembering that in the blink of an eye, I'll be old and withered away. He's lived ten times my lifetime, and seen more than I could ever dream of. "You're so old," I grumble and a smile pulls at his lips. "Just stop aging, let me catch up," I mumble.

"I stopped aging hundreds of years ago," He says pointedly and I seal my lips shut because I suppose he was right. "But it's true, I have tattoos older than you princess," He hums and I grin up at him. "Why does that make you smile?" He asks and I shrug.

"I like your tattoos," I say, my hand coming up to his bicep where a dark maroon ink trailed up his arm, tracing my fingertip along the delicate lines. "They're pretty," I mumble and it was his turn to smile.

"Just like me," He says and I roll my eyes, looking at him— he wasn't wrong.

It was no secret that vampires were beautiful beyond belief, but gods this male blew everyone else out of the water.

"You are," I agree because there was no viable way I could argue he wasn't.

His grin widens and I flick my eyes down to that smile, those lips that had been on mine last night, those pointed canines that I allowed to sink into my neck. The same ones I would happily let bite me again.

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[serejae]

HOPE NEW YORK HOLDS YOU TIGHT | BND

PAIRING ; BND X READER (platonic for woonhak)

GENRE ; ANGST (might make a p2 on jaehyuns and leehans bc i have a idea...)

WC ; 2,281

WHAT ! in which your boyfriend tells you he's moving leading him to end things

@onedoornet @miidorei @icyminghao @lionhanie @dongminz @loserlvrss

WARNINGS ; cursing

-

SUNGHO :

"you're what?" you yelled shocked, you didn't mean to raise your voice but you also didn't expect to get the news that the man you stayed up planning your future with just last night wanted to end things because he was moving miles away. he didn't even bother letting you know before packing his things letting you find out when you get home.

"listen the decision was impulsive okay?" he sighed trying to defend himself. no shit it was impulsive. he took your hand in his and kissed it trying to calm you down "i know the situation isn't ideal but we're going to be on two opposite sides of the world living two different lives, there only one solution yn." looking into his eyes you tried reading him, hoping this was some sick joke he had planned "sungho..." your breath shook as you tried composing yourself "you don't even wanna try? you don't believe our relationship could be worked out?" he looked down at his hand and mumbled, "we're both gonna end up hurt, might as well do it now."

his words left you both silent, he sighed before standing up and kissing your forehead before grabbing his luggage. you turned around watching his back as he walked towards the door, his hand went for the knob he paused. secretly you hoped he would realize that he needed you in his life and run back to you. instead, he turned the knob and left.

-

days, months, and years passed when sungho left. your world didn't end when he did leave but it might as well, there wasn't a single day you didn't think of him and as selfish as it sounded, you wish he still thought of you too.

watching out the window as your friend drove you both to a party to stop you from moping because of him. you stared out the window you traced back to the places you had both shared, from the ones you had sweet, sad, and angry moments at but all that mattered was that you had him. from the good to the bad you cherished every slight interaction you had with him.

sighing at the realization that you were focusing on the past you leaned back in your chair. the past was holding you back from experiencing the future, maybe it was time to let go and leave the image of the man who left you.

-

he looked out the window watching the dull blank buildings stare right back at him. he wondered what you were doing now, if you were happy and moved on or were in the same situation as him. his pride was strong, strong enough to not reach out, but not nearly as strong to not realize he lost something huge. someone who made him view life brighter, and as a result he now lives in what feels like a box. resting his head on the window, he pulled out his phone and turned it revealing the wallpaper he had of you as well as a widget of the timezone of where you were. he tried to move on, but it's almost as if fate was pushing him back to you. the future was pushing him back to the past, now it was up to him whether he wanted to pursue it.

-

RIWOO :

"i thought you were supposed to be the person supporting me?" riwoo shouted.

"and i thought i was important enough to you for you to have these conversations with me."

you didnt bother yelling anymore realizing long ago that no matter how loud you were he wouldn't listen to your perspective. he continued arguing since it was clear he had his mind set on this and was ready to leave.

"fine then, go!" you say cutting him off, he stared at you looking defeated as if he wanted you to continue begging for him to stay. he opened his mouth to say something but closed it as he nodded. you stayed in the living room as he stormed into the shared room packing his things. you walked to the bedroom door and stood there debating whether you should stop him.

the door then opened revealing a shocked riwoo. he stood there for a moment before walking past you, letting out a small 'bye' from his lips that could barely be heard.

-

so those were the last words you had said to him before he left. the argument was short but left a long impact and wonders. what if you hadn't abruptly ended the argument? would he still be here? what if he had talked to you about moving earlier? maybe you both could've figured things out before it was too late. you admittedly did think about him most days and thought about the other possibilities you and him could've faced, normally those thoughts send you into a spiral. in the midst of your train of thought, you bump into someone who seems to not have seen you. as you go to apologize, you recognize the face. sure, he may have had a different haircut and hair color, it was an image you could never forget. the same one that brought you so much happiness yet pain. "I'm really sorry for bumping into you," he said as he was about to keep walking

"riwoo?" you said

he paused and turned around

"i'm sorry, do i know you?" he asked turning around

what?

it was him

it had to be him

or did you think about him so much that your brain suddenly made everyone's face slightly resemble him for your comfort and well-being?

"i'm sorry, i must have mistaken you for someone else" you awkwardly laughed as you walked away.

-

he had found you again, he just couldn't hurt you again.

-

JAEHYUN :

"i think for both of us, if things ended it'll be better for both of us"

silence overtook the house

"thank you for telling me" you said as you looked at him. "yeah no problem" jaehyun smiled slightly at you trying to lift up your mood slightly

"you have four days left before you leave?" he nodded at the question wondering where this would lead

"can we be together for these four days?"

-

now there you were, sitting in front of jaehyun as he sipped his milkshake. he looked up to see you spaced out staring at your untouched milkshake that was slowly melting. any other person would've thought this was a look of tiredness after a long day of going out but jaehyun read you much easier than anyone else could. these past 3 days have been nothing but joy, going out to do the things you both planned to do together as a couple. whether it was doing an activity, eating, or both. but now it was only a few hours before he had to leave for the airport

he moved your hair out of your face catching your attention. "I'm gonna miss you, you know that right?" you nodded at his random confession which was a sign of affirmation. "I'm really gonna miss you but this has to be done" you felt a lump in your throat, as you remembered how this would end. it didn't matter that you had him for these 4 days because you'd lose him for the rest of your life.

-

its been 2 years since jaehyun left, you still remember the scent of the airport when you dropped him off as well as the scent he carried when you hugged him, it was nice resonating on the old memories but there was one thing you and jaehyun didn't complete on your bucket list. having a picnic by the park you both always loved, the day you two were supposed to go it was too hot making it unbearable. but you decided if you weren't going to go with him you'd go by yourself.

as you walk looking for a place to sit, you take in the scenery. once you sit down you look around at the many couples cuddling against each other. you smile at the thought of how you and jaehyun would be if he were still here with you. when he left, he reminded you about how much he loves you and how much he'll miss you, but deep down you still wish he were here to prove it.

suddenly you hear a familiar giggle, one that is ingrained in your mind, that your body trained you to automatically look for each time you hear it. turning over you see jaehyun a few feet away from you. his back was faced towards you, only allowing you to get a glimpse of his side profile. and to the left of him, you see a back. a back that he wrapped his arm around, the same way he had done with you. only adding more damage to your heart he kissed their cheek, which caused a tear to roll down yours.

and as salty as you could be, you pushed the feeling back.

cause he deserved to be happy

even if it wasn't with you

he deserved to love and someone to love him

even if you had to watch

-

TAESAN :

today had been awfully quiet from taesan. he didn't respond to any of your messages, or even bother reading them.

did you do something wrong?

if you remember correctly, you didn't do anything

maybe he just needed space

right?

that was until you got home to an empty home, but emptier than usual. that's weird, taesan wasn't working today.

you looked around and realized everything that was taesan was gone, as well as the photos on the walls of you two.

you pull out your phone and start texting him asking him where his stuff went and where are your guy's pictures, and this time he finally reads your message, but instead of a response you're left on read. you text him once again

only to realize you were blocked

-

you hate to say it but you grew a resentment for taesan after he blocked you leaving you with no answers. you were left in an empty home, with your tears, 10 things i hate about you and yourself. you ended up finding the answers you wanted from his friends that he moved countries which hurt you more than it should've after you claimed you hated him. you just wondered why.

why did he keep it from you

why didn't he say bye

did he even love you?

that wasn't a why question but okay.

-

you promised yourself the next time you saw him you'd sucker punch that bitch

so what happens when you hear the bell of your music store rings, making you turn and you face a familiar face. you turned right back around ignoring him. unfortunately, he walked right up to you.

"hey, i thought you'd be here" he said panting a bit

you look up at him slightly before looking away

"listen, im sorry"

"you should be" you said looking at your hands

"i just panicked okay

i didn't know how to tell you and i had that day to leave" he tried explaining

"so you leave me for months, almost a year just to come back for that stupid apology?

i really didnt think i could hate you more taesan."

you saw his face drop and your heart ached a little

maybe sucker punching him wouldve been better...

(insert sad blue emoji)

-

LEEHAN :

"so youre going to transfer universities and leave me here?" you asked getting a bit frustrated at leehan's idea

"you don't trust me or what?" he got a bit defensive

"no i trust you, its just dumb. why would you leave and go to a whole new state for the same major, which this school offers the same thing, is just kinda dumb to me." turning to look at him you see his eyebrows furrowed "well i don't need a partner who finds my decisions dumb." he said rather harshly before walking to your guys room.

thinking this would be a dumb argument you ignore him, he's probably sulking anyway.

you then heard shuffling from your room, turning your attention to the movement you see leehan come out with his bags. you panic and step in front of him "hey, hey what are you doing?"

"i said i don't need a partner who wouldn't find their decisions dumb."

"leehan you ARE being dumb right now, don't leave. lets talk about this, please."

he scoffed and walked past you leaving.

you tried running after him but he managed to leave before you could catch up, after trying to text and call him you gave up.

maybe, just maybe he'd turn the car around and run back to you.

-

spoiler its been a year and that dumbass didn't do it.

he kept driving and now he's stuck at a party sitting in a chair in the far far corner wondering what you were doing.

he watched as people interacted easily being able to tell who was a couple because they interacted the same way you two used to

well until he messed up and kept driving, constantly he was fighting with himself debating whether to go back or not. but by the time he wanted to go back, he was already at the university.

he snapped out of his daze when his friend ran up to him and showed him an Instagram account

your Instagram account.

he snatched the phone and started scrolling to see a photo of you and someone, holding and looking at you the way he use to

he shouldve listened to you

cause it was a fucking dumb decision.

[ennas-aesthetic]

What the fuck is Jesus up to in Good Omens season 3?

This is a question I've been thinking long and hard these past couple of days and I have some THOUGHTS SO. Buckle up.

Aziraphale and Crowley watching the Crucifixion (Good Omens, 2019)

First off. The answer to the question posited is relatively simple. What is Jesus up to in GO3? With s2's ending in mind and with the hints we've gotten for 668: Neighbor of the Beast over the years, we know he's descending to Earth to initiate the Second Coming. And that Aziraphale would probably make that happen - or do everything that he can as Supreme Archangel to sabotage it.

But I wanted to examine on how Jesus might fit into Good Omens' overall narratives and established themes - about morality and humanism and free will, and. I'm just saying, there are A LOT of fascinating routes they could do for his character.

(Disclaimer as usual: this is a theory that I obsessed over when I was stuck at the cemetery during All Souls' Day and must be treated as such. In no way am I insisting this should be how canon events must happen. I am just doing this for the funsies.)

The THING about Jesus if you situate him in the world of Good Omens (with the assumption that most of the pop culture Christology mythos associated with him remain intact) is that in this context he very quickly becomes: 1. Adam Young's narrative foil; and 2. an Aziraphale parallel.

Now, the first one is obvious. Of COURSE he is Adam Young's foil, duh. Adam isn't called the ANTICHRIST for nothing. Brought into the world just for the sole purpose of ending it. However, when the time comes for him to fulfill the Will of his Satanic Father, Adam flat out REFUSES.

Both the book and the show attribute this to Adam's human upbringing. He was raised as a human, and because of that he has the trait that the book uses to DEFINE human beings: free will. At the end, Adam had the AGENCY to reject the destiny planned out for him.

'Adam stood smiling at the two of them, a small figure perfectly poised exactly between Heaven and Hell.

Crowley grabbed Aziraphale's arm. "You know what happened?" he hissed excitedly. "He was left alone! He grew up human! He's not Evil Incarnate or Good Incarnate, he's just… a human incarnate—"'

- (Good Omens, 1990)

That is NOT what happened to Jesus.

Adam Bond as Jesus in Good Omens (2019)

Like Adam, he was raised as a human -- being a human incarnate was his WHOLE DEAL in Christology. In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was made flesh and dwelt among us... yada yada yada.

UNLIKE, Adam, though, Jesus wasn't able to REJECT his Destiny of Dying Really Horribly and Painfully on the Cross. Narratives in the Bible also made it clear that the Crucifixion was NOT his Will, but that of God's. Like... him begging to be spared from torment but ultimately following God's Will is such an important event entire devotional practices are made out of it.

"39 And he went a little farther, and fell on his face, and prayed, saying, O my Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me: nevertheless not as I will, but as thou wilt."

- (Matthew 26: 39, KJV)

We get a glimpse of that in s1ep3 of Good Omens, too:

"JESUS

(muttering through the pain)

Father, please . . . you have to forgive them . . . they don’t know what they are doing . . .

Crowley, in black, comes up next to Aziraphale.

CROWLEY

You’ve come to smirk at the poor bugger, have you?

AZIRAPHALE

Smirk? Me?

CROWLEY

Well, your lot put him on there.

AZIRAPHALE

I am not consulted on policy decisions, Crawley."

- (The Quite Nice and Fairly Accurate Good Omens Script Book, 2018)

SO. Here we have the character of the Christ whose free will and agency had been STRIPPED from him in the guise of a "noble sacrifice." He comes back again on this Earth to fulfill another "inescapable destiny."

Aziraphale and Crowley need to stop him. The solution the Good Omens narrative offers to "inescapable destinies and systems" (both in s1 and s2) is for the character to realize they have the freedom to choose their own fates. It happened with Adam, and it happened with Gabriel, and perhaps it will happen to Jesus.

(At this point my sister frowned and said: "Are you telling me you think Aziraphale and Crowley are going to help Jesus realize he has agency and that him Dying on the Cross for the 'Great Plan' was kinda fucked up actually?" which sounds crazy when you put it like that BUT NEVER SAY NEVER BABIE.)

Because that brings me to my second point: if this all happens, Jesus becomes an AZIRAPHALE parallel.

In the same way Anathema is an Aziraphale parallel and Sergeant Shadwell is an Aziraphale parallel. Here is a character stuck in a suffocating status quo. To save the world, he needs to know he can escape that status quo and decide for himself. In the same way Anathema has to learn how to stop being a descendant or Shadwell to stop being a Witchfinder, or Gabriel to stop being an Archangel, and Adam to stop being an Antichrist, perhaps Jesus has to learn he can stop being... Well, the Christ, as well.

And this, of course, supplements Aziraphale's journey of letting go of the idea of being an idealized vessel of God, so he could finally enjoy the freedom of personhood and choice on Earth, with Crowley.

Or they could turn Jesus into a cackling villain who Aziraphale and Crowley need to kill in season 3, and I'd probably eat that up, too.

[skzdust]

Can I request a Han fic where the reader is an idol under JYP who also happens to be Chan's little sister?

I thought I wouldn't have much time to write recently but I LOVED this idea so I worked on it last night and today on my lunch break and I finished it!

This was such a fun one to work on, thanks for the request and I really hope you like it!

-----

Intimate

Summary: You went to your brother Chan's place crying, but you found his roommate Han Jisung instead.

Pairing: Han Jisung x fem!idol!reader

Word count: 1k

Taglist: @weirdowithaphone, @caught-in-the-afterglow, @palindrome969, @skzstan12345

Includes: fluff, hurt/comfort, pie as a comfort food, cuddles, sharing a bed (sfw)

Reblogs, likes, comments all appreciated!!!

Masterlist

------

You knocked on the door and stepped back, shuffling your feet on the hallway carpet.

You’d been hoping it’d be your brother Chan who opened the door, but you weren’t so lucky. It was Han Jisung, who’d always been mostly nice but teasing to you. You didn’t need teasing right now.

“Y/n! Are you looking for Chan—oh, what’s wrong?” His voice was colored with worry as he saw the tear tracks on your face.

“Yeah.” You mumbled, pushing past him and walking into the living room to flop face-first on the couch.

“I think he’s in the studio right now.”

“It’s four in the morning.” You mumbled. “Why is he in the studio?”

“Dunno.” You heard one of the chairs in the room squeak slightly as Jisung sat down. “He does that sometimes, especially when he can’t sleep. He goes and works on music.”

“Mph.” You groaned. You could understand that, you did the same, writing songs for your group in the dead of night. You’d been hoping to wake Chan up, though, not miss him entirely.

“Is there… do you want to talk about it?” Jisung asked hesitantly, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

You considered for a moment, worried Jisung might make fun of you if you told him the truth.

If he does tease me, I can just leave and text Chan. You reassured yourself.

You tilt your head sideways so you’re not talking into the pillow. “I totally messed up in practice for this music video last night and I’m worried I’ll be dropped or something. We’re about to debut, and we have to be, like… perfect.”

Jisung hummed thoughtfully. “And that was last night? Your debut is set for… less than a month, right?”

“Three weeks and four days.”

“Been thinking about it?”

You sighed. “Yeah.”

“I get it. It’s terrifying.”

You looked up at him over your shoulder. “Not going to poke fun at me?”

Jisung tilted his head, confused. “No? You’re crying. You know, I only do that when I’m joking around. I never mean it genuinely.”

“It still hurts sometimes.” You sat up, hugging the pillow.

“I’m sorry.” Jisung cleared his throat. “I guess… I go too far sometimes.”

You nodded, new tears forming in your eyes. “I appreciate that.”

“Oh, did I say something wrong?” He leaned towards you.

You sniffed. “No, I’m just… emotional, I guess.”

“Here, I have a solution.” Jisung stood up and walked into the kitchen. You watched him go, curious. You heard the fridge open and close, and he walked back in with a plate of pie and a fork.

“Oh, that’s my favorite kind.” You smiled.

“Yeah. I remembered you mentioning it a little bit ago and I thought I’d give it a try.” Jisung shrugged, holding the plate out to you. “It was pretty good, but I got a lot, and I had some extra.”

You took the pie and took a bite. It was delicious, comforting, and exactly what you needed. “Thank you.” You said, your mouth full.

He laughed, and you were suddenly struck by how cute he was when he was genuinely happy.

Although I’ve always kind of found him attractive…

“I’m glad you’re liking it.” He sat back down and held out his hand. “Here, let me have a bite.”

You held out the plate. “Should you… new fork?”

“I don’t care.” He took it. “Do you?”

“No.” You said, your face heating up.

“You’re all red!” Jisung grinned. “You do care!”

“Whatever.” You mumbled, unable to hold back your smile.

He took a bite, then gave the plate to you. You broke off a piece of the pie with the fork, hesitated for a moment, then took the bite. You handed it back to him, and he had another bite, too.

It felt intimate.

When the pie was finished, Jisung set the plate down on the coffee table. “Did that help?”

“Yeah.” You leaned back. “Why are you still up, anyway?”

He pointed to the TV, where a show was paused. “I couldn’t sleep, either.”

“Is something up?”

He didn’t look at you. “No.”

“I told you mine.”

He sighed. “I guess I’m in a similar boat to you. I’m really struggling with some choreography, and I think Minho is annoyed with me at this point.”

“Yeah, I definitely understand that.” You nodded. “But if you want to get good at the choreo, you should probably get some sleep, you’re not gonna be able to dance tomorrow if you’re exhausted.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Says you.”

“I don’t want to go back to my place.” You said softly. “One of my roommates was mad at me about… tonight.”

“Sleep here, then.”

“Nah, it’s fine.” You shook your head. “I don’t like couches, I’ll be brave and go home and lay in bed or something.”

Jisung thought for a moment. “I have an idea, if you’re up for it.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Shoot.”

“We could both sleep in my bed. Maybe having someone else close would help.”

The part of you that had a crush on Jisung went wild.

“Sure, that sounds nice.” You smiled.

“Nice.” He stood up. “C’mon.”

You followed him down the hall and to his room, which you’d never been in before. It was a little messy, but you could tell he was organized. His bed was mussed up, like he’d been tossing and turning. Given what he’d told you, he probably had been.

He pulled back the covers and motioned for you to get in. “Get comfy.”

You did so, getting into the bed and pulling the comforter over yourself. You were suddenly exhausted, and you struggled to keep your eyes open. The bed dipped when Jisung got in.

You got an idea. “Jisung?”

“Hm?”

“Can we, um, cuddle? I’m just feeling a bit lonely, and I think it’d be nice, and I… I dunno, we don’t have to.” You rambled.

“‘Course we can.” Jisung opened his arms, and you scooted into them.

He was warm, and solid, and comforting, and safe.

Intimate.

You felt content for the first time since your disastrous practice as you cuddled into his chest.

“Chan might kill me.” He muttered, his embrace tightening a bit.

“No, he won’t.” You closed your eyes. “Chan’ll be fine.”

“Even if he did, it would be worth it.” He said with a soft laugh.

That was the last thing you heard before you fell into sleep.

[kangaracha]

QUEENMAKER | CHAPTER 18

---

pairing chan x reader

genre ninth member au, angst, fluff, coming of age, social media, cancel culture, anxiety, depression, forbidden love,

summary To JYPE, the solution is simple; take the sole trainee that will not debut with your brand new girl group, and use her to replace the missing vocalist in your male group that insisted on starting as nine.

Unfortunately, to the fans and the members themselves, it isn't that simple.

status ongoing

taglist OPEN

a/n thanks again for 1k followers! also, taglists are sort of working again, if you're someone that only comes here when you get a tag, you've probably missed a few chapters

previous | masterlist | next

---

The airport is a crush of bodies and phones and flashing cameras, staring you down as you follow Seungmin's back through the glass doors and try not to stutter under the weight of so many eyes on you at once.

It happens fast and yet also so very, very slow, every second dripping past so discernibly that you swear you can feel time moving around you. Every breath hitches in your lungs as you walk, every blink of your eyes blinded by the halogen lights overhead or the lense of another camera, searching for the face a manager has tried to hide for you under cap and hood and mask. The clothing is hot and stifling, the collar of your shirt suffocating where it is tucked into the black hoodie, the ends of your hair scratching at the back of your neck, but you're too scared to pull it down or to even look up, your eyes fixed on Seungmin's heels and the tails of the loose shirt he's pulled on just for this walk through the line of fire.

You'd looked for Chan when you'd gotten out of the car, gravitating naturally towards the leader (the one that had defended you online, the one that could look you in the eyes and tell you the truth and went out of his way to prove it the moment he had an opportunity), but he'd fallen back and you'd been steered towards the centre of the group, sticking to Seungmin's side instead. Seungmin was dependable too, like Changbin; unafraid of the crowds that pushed and pulled at each other and tried to lean in close as security shove their way through, and fiercely loyal when the situation called for it.

Seungmin doesn't look back though. He doesn't have time, when the hands to either side are reaching for him just as much as they do to shove you, when hired bodies keep nearly separating you as they move in circles around you, carrying out their job. You're not sure how you could feel so small and alone in such a large crowd of people, seen by so many eyes, but for a moment you do, and then-

An arm lands across the back of your neck, a hand resting casually over your shoulder, pulling you into someone's side. Felix, recogniseable by the soft blue jumper he's wearing and the blonde hair that pokes out from underneath his beanie. You have a feeling he's not supposed to do it, from the wicked gleam in his eye when he glances at you and the way that he marches onward, feet placed deliberately beside yours as if to challenge anyone to tear him away, but you can't find it in yourself to make an excuse and pull back, to walk on your own two feet. 

You were scared, after all; you are scared, even with the reassurance of the weight of his arm around your shoulders and the angle of his body blocking some of the cameras that angle and click and glare at you like if they stare hard enough, you might freely divulge your secrets. You've never seen a crowd like this before, so close and so...mob-like, uncontrolled and ready to roll over each other if it means getting their two seconds of fame, their photo that's unlike any other.

"I get scared too sometimes," Felix says, close enough to your ear that you can hear him over the mayhem. "Just keep walking. The faster we get there, the quicker it'll be over."

"Thanks, Felix," you say in return, but you don't think he can hear you over the crowd. 

TAGLIST

@kokinu09 @rainfallingfromthesky @lixie-phoria @mysweethannie @chlodavids

@hanniemylovelyquokka @tfshouldidohere @lauraliisa @puppysmileseungmin @kalopsian-thoughts

@puppy-minnie @readerofallthingss @dvbkie099 @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @acker-night

@d-chagi @lynlyndoll @borahae-reads @ihrtlix @yienmarkk

@minhwa @i2innie @jinnie-ret @conwunder @amesification

@starssongs98 @weirdhumanbeinglol @morinuu @the-weird-mold-in-the-sink @bokkiesplace

@amyyscorner @jiisungllvr @skzstaykatsy @blackhairandbangs @jungkookies1002

@hyuuukais @imsiriuslyreal @thatonedemigodfromseoul @gini143 @mercurywritesstuff

@splat00z @filmbypsh @palindrome969 @crabrangoongirl25 @enzos-shit

@jabmastersupriseee @kayleefriedchicken @hynjinswrld @duhgurl @cheshireshiya

@keepswingin

[trashfangirlsworld]

I think the frustrating thing about QSMP and payment is that it starts to feel like people low key implying it’s all going to go to Quackity’s pocket. Not intentionally, and not necessarily. Like, if it’s not going towards the admins directly it mustn’t be going towards anything else related to QSMP. And like, a part of it is that if the Eggs sales only went to the egg admins…then what about the other workers there? The modders and builders, just anybody else that still works at QSMP. Like, the admins should be compensated for their past work but taking any sales you get and only putting it towards said admins while it’s been made clear that financially the QSMP is not in the strongest position doesn’t seem like the best solution either.

Especially since QSMP doesn’t have a fixed income. It isn’t constantly making money like other businesses during these situations so it can’t start paying people back immediately. Everything comes out of Q’s pocket and I doubt those pockets are deep enough to pay for everything given he doesn’t stream frequently. The fact that Tubbo and Bad are concerned enough about the financial state that they are tryin to make it easier on Q (not using the translator when unnecessary, buying merch) says a lot to me.

Like I get it. If everything gets settled/improved financially and he still hasn’t paid the admins back then it’s going to be a major disappointment and problem. But like, until things are settled at the base (QSMP), I don’t think Quackity can make moves towards paying back the others without putting more strain on the situation or at worse not being able to actually pay them fully back people. Much less find a way to talk about it that might unintentionally become a false promise or could lead to more issues in him not being able to pay them back in a timely manner.

Like, idk, I’m never going to say that Q shouldn’t at the very least try to give some updates on the situation because IT IS unfair to the admins

but as somebody not involved in the Studio, who has no idea of the actual depth of the financial situation or the problems that might be going on legally in the background, I don’t PERSONALLY feel comfortable saying “well he can at least say X to the admins.” For me personally, that part just holds too many assumptions that I don’t have any insight on

I don't really have anything to add to this, this a pretty well thought out post

[libraryofloveletters]

Bound By Fate

Jenson Button x Fem!Teammate Reader

series summery: the strings of life connect two people; teammates, friends, perhaps lovers. Even when you think you’ve gotten rid of him, the strings of life pull you back in. some things are just meant to be. 

author's note: this was prompted by god knows what but this is my new passion project. jenson girlies, this one is for you. shoutout to @mev33 for losing her mind over this with me <333

bound by fate taglist!

chapter one: united front

attached at the hip, jenson button and y/n l/n are the unstoppable duo. the same soul in two bodies. all but 4 points separating them. // “where you go, I go. What you see, I see. I know I’d never be me without the security of your loving arms, keeping me from harm. Put your hand in my hand and we’ll stand.” - Skyfall by Adele

chapter two: time cast a spell on you

spending nine months with someone is a long time, especially when you’re forced to be with them. feelings grow, both good and bad.  - “Time cast a spell on you but you won’t forget me. I know I could have I loved you but you would not let me. I’ll follow you down ‘till the sound of my voice can haunt you. Oh give it just a chance. You’ll never get away from the sound of a woman that loves you.” - Silver Springs by Fleetwood Mac  

chapter three: the blame is on you

two mclarens spin out, drivers at each other’s throat but only one’s to blame. what’s said on track doesn’t always stay there. - “It’s my own design, it’s my own remorse. Help me to decide, help me make the most of freedom and of pleasure, nothing ever lasts forever. Everybody wants to rule the world.” - Everybody Wants To Rule The World by Tear For Fear 

chapter four: no grace

jenson can’t take it anymore; the back stabbing, the betrayal. he did what he thought was best and left. on what was supposed to be the happiest night of y/n’s life, she’s heartbroken and upset. — “I didn’t have it in myself to go with grace, so the battleships will sink beneath the waves. You had to kill me, but it kills you just the same. Cursing my name, wishing I stayed. You turned into your worst fears and you’re tossing out blame, drunk on this pain. Crossing out the good years and you’re cursing my name, wishing I stayed.” -  My Tears Ricochet by Taylor Swift 

chapter five: the final tango

y/n and jenson find themselves front and centre, smiling for the cameras in their sunday bests, yet their hearts are in different places. - “it hurts to be something, it’s worse to be nothing with you. I’ve done the math, there’s no solution. We’ll never last. Why can’t I let go of this?” -  Promise by Laufey 

chapter six: secrets of us

when all is said and done, it’s never really over, is it? jenson spills far too much in a tell-all interview that back fires on both he and y/n. - “And you don’t seem to understand, a shame you seemed an honest man. And the fears you hold so dear will turn to whisper in your ear. And you know what they say might hurt you and you know that it means so much, and you don’t even feel a thing.” -  Duvet by Bôa

chapter seven: a chapter of me

four long years have passed, both y/n and jenson are in different places of life but they find themselves at Silverstone, together once again. jenson’s a commentator and y/n’s still a racer. seems the dust has settled. - “Just wanna let this story die, and i’ll be alright. We can’t be friends, but I’d like to just pretend. You cling to your papers and pens, wait until you like me again.” -  We Can’t Be Friends by Ariana Grande 

chapter eight: a glimpse into the past

people come and go, life moves on; that has always been your view. you can’t move on when your past comes back to haunt you. -  “So I ask myself, do I let you go or do I keep you in the frame of my mind? Now I’m growing wise to your sugar coated lies, nothing’s sweet about my misery. Yeah, I finally found what went wrong, i finally found the wrong in you.” - On My Mind by Jorja Smith

chapter nine: twelve steps forward, one step back

the final race of your life, mixed emotions truly. your career was one out of a movie, you’re waiting for the final shoe to drop and when it does, it hits you hard. - “Isn’t it strange? I am still me, you are still you, in the same place. Isn’t it strange how people can change from strangers to friends, friends into lovers, and strangers again?” - Strange by Celeste

epilogue - chapter ten: the last bow

life post retirement is a funny thing, you thought you’d be having fun but you’re bored out of your mind. a solo trip results in seeing a ghost from your past.  -  “I'm sure we're taller in other dimension, you say we’re small and not worth a mention. You’re tired of movin’, your body’s achin’. We could vacay, there’s places to go. Clearly this isn’t all that there is, can’t take what’s been given. But we’re so okay here, we’re doing fine.” - White Ferrari by Frank Ocean 

[awkward-walking-potato]

How would Wade care for a reader on their period?

Period Panic Prevention

You and Wade were curled up on the couch, surrounded by a sea of blankets and pillows. The living room was bathed in the soft glow of the TV as an action-comedy played out on the screen. It wasn’t anything particularly deep or emotional—just the kind of mindless fun that you both enjoyed after a long day.

Wade had one arm draped around your shoulders, his other hand holding a bowl of popcorn that was slowly being devoured. His occasional commentary and quips about the movie kept you laughing, but there was a strange tightness in your chest that you couldn’t quite shake.

As the movie went on, you found yourself getting inexplicably teary-eyed. You tried to blink it away, but the feeling only grew stronger. It wasn’t long before a lump formed in your throat, and your eyes started to well up.

Wade noticed immediately. Of course, he did—nothing got past him, especially when it came to you.

“Hey, uh, you okay, babe?” he asked, glancing down at you with a mix of confusion and concern. “This is the part where they blow stuff up, not the part where you start bawling your eyes out.”

You sniffled, wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand. “I—I don’t know. I’m fine. I just—” Your voice cracked, and suddenly, you were crying in earnest, your shoulders shaking as the tears spilled over.

Wade was flabbergasted. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey! What’s going on? Did I miss something? Did they slip in a tragic backstory I wasn’t paying attention to?”

You shook your head, trying to catch your breath between sobs. “No, it’s not that. I don’t know why I’m crying. It’s just… everything feels so overwhelming.”

Wade’s expression shifted from bewildered to understanding in an instant. He’d seen this before—several times, in fact. And each time, it took him a minute to put two and two together, but once he did, the solution was clear.

“Babe,” he said gently, brushing a tear off your cheek with his thumb, “do you think your period might be coming up?”

You paused, sniffling again as you tried to think through the haze of emotions. “Maybe… I haven’t really been keeping track, but it could be.”

Wade nodded, now in full detective mode. “Okay, okay, I got this. You just hang tight for a second.”

Before you could ask what he was up to, Wade was off the couch and out of the room, leaving you with a confusing mix of emotions and a vague sense of embarrassment. But then again, this was Wade—he wasn’t the type to shy away from anything, especially when it came to taking care of you.

A few minutes later, he came back into the living room, a triumphant look on his face as he presented you with a basket that looked like it had been assembled by someone who took their job very seriously.

“There we go!” Wade announced, setting the basket down in front of you. “The ultimate period survival kit, courtesy of yours truly.”

You stared at the basket in surprise, your tears momentarily forgotten as you took in the assortment of items he’d gathered. There were tampons and pads of various sizes, a hot water bottle, a box of your favorite chocolates, a bottle of painkillers, some herbal tea, and even a couple of face masks. It was like a one-stop shop for everything you could possibly need during your period.

“Wade…” you began, your voice thick with emotion, though for a completely different reason now.

But Wade wasn’t done yet. “Hold on, there’s more! I ran you a bath—it’s nice and hot, just the way you like it. And after that, I’ve got your comfiest PJs laid out on the bed. Oh, and don’t worry about dinner, I ordered your favorite takeout. It should be here by the time you’re out of the tub.”

He said all of this in a rapid-fire burst, like he’d been planning it for hours instead of just a few minutes. You blinked at him, overwhelmed by the sheer thoughtfulness of it all.

“Wade, this is… You didn’t have to do all of this.”

“Didn’t have to?” Wade said, raising an eyebrow. “Babe, this is exactly what I have to do. You’re feeling like crap, and I’m not about to let you go through that without the proper tools, ya know?”

You felt another wave of emotion coming on, but this time it was one of deep affection and gratitude rather than inexplicable sadness. You reached out and pulled Wade into a tight hug, burying your face in his chest as the tears started up again—only these were the good kind.

“Thank you,” you mumbled against his shirt, your voice muffled but sincere. “This means so much to me.”

Wade hugged you back just as tightly, one hand gently rubbing your back. “Hey, it’s no big deal. Besides, you do the same for me, right? And I’m way more of a mess on the regular.”

You chuckled through your tears, lifting your head to look up at him. “Maybe, but this is different. This is… I don’t know, it just makes me feel really loved.”

Wade’s gaze softened, and he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “That’s the idea, babe. You’re stuck with me, so I’m gonna make sure you’re as happy and comfortable as possible. And if that means putting together an emergency period basket, then that’s what I’ll do.”

You smiled up at him, feeling a warmth in your chest that had nothing to do with the hot water bottle. “You’re the best, Wade.”

“I know,” he replied with a smirk, though there was a softness in his eyes that belied the bravado. “Now, go enjoy that bath before it gets cold. I’ll be here when you’re done—food ready, blankets fluffed, the whole nine yards.”

With one last kiss, you reluctantly pulled away and headed toward the bathroom. As you slipped into the warm, soothing water, you couldn’t help but marvel at how lucky you were. Wade might have been unconventional in a lot of ways, but when it came to taking care of you, he never missed a beat.

When you emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in a fluffy towel and feeling much more relaxed, you found the fluffy pajamas Wade had promised laid out on the bed, along with a small note.

“Just remember: Even when the world’s a pain in the ass, I’ve got your back (and your chocolate). –W.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you slipped into the pajamas, feeling the soft fabric against your skin. By the time you made it back to the living room, Wade had everything set up perfectly—your favorite takeout, a stack of fluffy blankets, and your favorite movie queued up on the TV.

As you settled back into your spot next to him, Wade wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close. The two of you dug into the food, the warmth of the meal and Wade’s presence soothing any lingering discomfort.

“You know,” you said after a few bites, “you really didn’t have to go all out like this. But I’m so glad you did.”

Wade smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners in that way that always made your heart skip a beat. “Anything for you, babe. Anything at all.”

And with that, the two of you settled in for the rest of the evening, the earlier tears forgotten as you basked in the warmth of Wade’s love and care. It was moments like these that reminded you just how special your relationship with him was—chaotic, unconventional, and absolutely perfect.