#and the ability to understand tom

[profoundmakerdreamerss-blog]

Tomarry AU where Harry knows everything but it's not because he is a time traveller, neither because he is a seer —

Pages and words have always been Harry's best friend. Living inside a cupboard did not help with his obsession. Rather, it was due to those pages that he survived. (He was 14 when he got his room instead of a bloody cupboard to sleep in.). The library was the only place Harry was able to hide from Dudley before they were sent to different schools.

When he was fourteen, and hiding from Dudley in the public library (he was mad that his gaming room was given to him.) he ends up reading a book he came to like very much.

It was a book about an orphan boy (like him.) who ends up going to this magic world (oh, how Harry wished) but sadly Tom ended up being hated there as well. Harry was awed by Tom's strength, but also angry (at the world how they let Tom down.) and angry at Tom for destroying himself to destroy what hurt him (or maybe he was angry at himself for not being able to do the same, maybe he was angry that he couldn't save Tom —) Harry was fourteen and it would seem he was angry at a lot of things.

(—that day Harry punched Dudley back after Dudley hit him. He didn't get to eat for a week straight.)

Jealousy is something he never let himself feel, because it wasn't a privilege he was given — not really. But one thing he was jealous of was the fact that Tom got to fly. (Harry wondered some nights — hungry and unable to sleep — what would he do if he got a magic letter? Would he have friends? How nice it would be to get to eat 3 times a day — how nice it would be to just fly away.).

Harry Potter loved Tom Riddle. Harry Potter also loved Lord Voldemort. The boy who died to be born as a monster. The boy who swallowed all the hatred so that he could hate the world in return (oh, how Harry wish he could burn down the world too sometimes — how he wish he could just hate hate hate and not care care care; maybe then he would finally stop trying look for approval in his aunt's eyes). Harry knew when started reading the book Tom was as cruel as he was strong. And he knew as he read the text, there would come a day Tom would burn the world like he was also burned. Even though he didn't agree with Tom's decisions most of the time he knew Tom. So yes, Harry Potter might not agree with Voldemort but he still loved him. And he wished that he could tell him that. Wished he could tell the man who was still a boy that wanted a family so bad that he stayed up for hours at night searching, hungry to find any living family there was, hungry for a belonging that he wasn't even deigned in the magic world. He wished he could tell Voldemort that no matter what he became, Harry would love him.

So imagine his surprise when he wakes up in a moving train — right after going to bed (instead of a cake he got a can of soup) the night he turned sixteen. Imagine how surprised as he sat there, in robes that he doesn't remember he ever owned. Imagine him freaking out that he got kidnapped as the door of his train compartment opened, and in came Tom Riddle.

[tomwambsgans]

tom who can only conceptualize himself as desirable in the romantic sense with sexual intimacy simply being something that comes with that + greg who can only conceptualize himself as desirable in terms of being overtly, often physically useful, with approval and emotional attachment only coming after + expression of love is a two way street and you're unlikely to know how to say what's never been said to you

[mysterycitrus]

I'm not sure if you've already answered something like this, but what are your reasons for disliking Tom Taylor?

I haven't read everything of his regarding the Titans and Dick but I don't really like what I've seen so far. I was excited at first with the current Titans run, etc. But that excitement has faded away.

What I don't like that is hard to put into words is his writing seems to reflect that he doesn't really understand the characters that he's writing, AND he seems to prefer Dick with Babs instead of Kory.

But what are your thoughts on Tom Taylor's writing?

in a nutshell — tom taylor is a fundamentally incurious person who writes comics to go viral on twitter. there’s no tangible substance in what he writes aside from moments of unearned toothless fluff, he isn’t interested in preserving legacy relationships or characterisation, and he lauds himself as a champion of representation while blocking those from marginalised communities who critique his works for being harmful or otherwise inaccurate.

his writing on nightwing reinvented dick grayson as a spineless, inoffensive character with almost no conviction. babs gordon has been removed from oracle entirely and exists as his girlfriend who lovingly banters with him but otherwise possesses no personal stance on any issue. his portrayal of bludhaven is devoid of its grit, style, or culture. dick’s ability to perform basic tasks as a hero — solving cases on his own, any degree of instinct or self preservation, acting like an adult — is notably absent. his chip about kory manifests in strongarming babs into being dicks one true love — something that defies existing canon and harms both of their existing relationships with other characters.

his writing on titans pisses me off even more, because now he has a wide cast of established characters that he can water down into stereotypes, flat characterisation lifted out of the cartoon, and bad politics. raven is basically a non-character who exists to be bb’s girlfriend. roy is totally absent. kory is underwritten. donna is flat and lifeless. the dynamics of the group are totally off. the decisions they make are bad, and because he’s established dick as a dunce i don’t understand why anyone would sincerely trust him to lead this group.

the issue is that there are no stakes. taylor’s liberalism allows for surface-level representation with no substance and no personality. why should i care that superman is bi if said superman decides to hug space-hitler instead of fighting him? why would i care that dick grayson is back in bludhaven if every character around him exists to support his new, inferior storytelling? taylor does not appear interested in improving his craft or actually collaborating with the people he claims to represent. there is no compassion, no sincere interest in nuanced storytelling. only window dressing with shiny cover art by dan mora

[lustsickforyou]

what side are you on?

sirius black x reader (romantic, to platonic) regulus black x reader (romantic, eventually) james potter x reader (if you squint)

summary: you were born into a pureblood family and taught a special ability since birth, you’ve been used your whole life and you start to want a change.

warnings: arranged marriage, abusive parents, talks of miscarriage, mentions of death, angst

a/n: basing the power off of a heart renderer from shadow and bone, so credits do that. i also added in a scene from call me by your name because i couldn’t resist. will be a multi part series. reader is slytherin.

part one , part two

Life hadn’t always been easy for you, it was something that seemed so normal at this point. You were born into a pureblood family, one of the sacred twenty eight. When your mother married your father they placed the expectation for her to bare his heir just as they did to everyone else. Your mother tried so hard to perform her duty, but pregnancy after pregnancy she had failed to do so, even though it wasn’t her fault. Each child that she had lost picked away at her soul, and she swore the last time she was pregnant that she would be done after that. She never even wanted kids in the first place.

That’s when you came along, a healthy daughter, but hardly what her husband had wished for. This daughter couldn’t carry on the family name. Your mother was so displeased with herself, the secrets the woman would share in whispers across the board got to her. So in attempt to save herself and her husband from their reputation being ruined, she made a deal with the devil. Tom Riddle himself. She swore that she would train her daughter to become a heart render at his own expense if he would marry her off to a respectable family. He, of course— agreed.

Heart renderers were rare, just like a legilimens. It was hard to perfect, but with you at home every day as a child and with lots of consequences if you did not perform to your mother’s liking, you mastered the art. You could do a plethora of things, both good and bad. You could make someone’s blood boil, get them to do whatever you wanted, get them to say things they would never normally say aloud. But you could also soothe a temper, calm someones heart rate, keep them warm. It was a blessing and a curse.

You were presented to Tom Riddle when you were eight, and he held up to his deal. Use you in exchange for a husband who had a well known name, that being Sirius Black. You two were to be married when you turn eighteen. The two of you spent a lot of time together at home, but rarely ever in school. He was a Gryffindor boy who was out of control, you were a Slytherin girl who kept to herself. Tom and his parents hoped this marriage would keep Sirius in line.

Many people at school feared you, in fact Dumbledore gave strict instructions for you to never use you powers in school. You understood this, followed the rules. The students didn’t understand, and would often say nasty things about you and your special abilities. How you were untrustworthy, that they needed to keep a distance from you for their own safety. You had never given them a reason to be scared, and yet here you were. Cursed with a power that only you saw could be good, but many found deceptive.

Now you were in your seventh year, used for your powers by Tom whenever he pleased, and Sirius had gone off the rails, leaving his family behind and the promise he gave to you along with them. Just before he left his home he came to you, he saw the good in you. Tried to convince you to run off with him for a better life, but you knew you couldn’t.

“Come with me, y/n.” he pleaded, looking down at you with hopeful eyes. You shook your head, stepping back from him. You wanted nothing more than to leave, to finally free yourself from not only your mother’s tight grip on you but Tom’s as well. “I can’t.” you whispered with tears in your eyes. Tom would kill you if you left, he had threatened it plenty of times when he noticed you grew weary of the things he made you do, the people he made you hurt. “Why?” Sirius tried to dig deeper, hopefully to make you realize that there was no reason why you shouldn’t go. “I can’t.” you repeated shakily. Everything in you was screaming to run, but you knew what Tom would do. He would hunt anyone you ever cared about, saving you for last before casting the unforgivable curse and take your life. Sirius stepped towards you. “Please.” he begged. You stepped back again, holding your hands up. The two of you turned your head when you heard footsteps coming down the hallway, you mother calling your name. You pushed him forward quickly. “Go.” you whispered with urgency. “Please come with me.” he pleaded. You held his arms in your hands and pushed him again. “Go.” you repeated but this time much more firm. With that he was gone, and you hadn’t seen him for months.

Now you sat by yourself at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall. You looked down at the book Sirius gifted to you on your eighteenth birthday just days before he left. It was a muggle book full of poems, something James had shown to him. You two had each other’s backs in the hardest of times. You understood each other on a different level. When he would panic, you would soothe his heart rate. When you would cry he would be there to comfort you. You nervously tapped your finger on the table, turning to see Sirius enter the Great Hall with his friends. They called themselves the Marauders, proud of the shenanigans the four got up to. You didn’t like them, mainly because you were jealous of them. James Potter was from a pureblood family, but nothing like yours. They were loving and kind. Remus was a half-blood boy that was far too good for this world, and Peter was a half-blood as well who was quiet and reserved. They got along with each other so well, you wondered if that’s where Sirius ran off to. To be with them.

Sirius’ eyes scanned the room, and they landed on his brother Regulus. You knew it must’ve been hard for him to leave his brother behind, but then again they were completely different. Unlike Sirius, Regulus was fully devoted to his work with the Dark Lord. You and him rarely ever spoke, mostly because you thought he may be afraid of you. Sirius turned away and sat down with his friends, but you noticed how every so often he would look towards the Slytherin table. Suddenly he stood up, making some excuse to leave his friends, and headed off down the hallway. You took this as your chance to speak with him, standing up and chasing after him.

“Sirius!” you called after him and he stopped in his tracks, turning around with tears in his eyes. “How are you?” you asked politely. “Good.” he lied to your face, but he knew that you knew how he felt. You could hear his heart pounding in his chest, another perk to being a heart renderer. “I— I read the book that you gave to me. The muggle one.” you tried to change the subject, but you couldn’t drop the fact that he was upset. “The poems, they’re really beautiful.” you commented. Sirius only stared at you. “I’m sorry that you’re sad.” you said softly, you always had a way with your words. You knew he was upset about seeing Regulus after months apart, you knew it stung. “I’m saying that because I wanted to tell you that I’m not mad at you for leaving. Not at all.” you explained. You would’ve left too, so why would you ever be mad at him for doing what you couldn’t? “I love you, Sirius.” you breathed out. You didn’t love him in the way many would expect. Sure you had a crush on him as a kid, but you knew the two of you would never work out. You had love for him, though. You held out your hand for him to shake on a deal. “Stay friends?” you asked even though it was a lie. You couldn’t live a double life, that would only put him and yourself in danger. Sirius knew that too. “For life?” he questioned.

You must’ve been ten, maybe eleven— playing in the woods behind your childhood home. You would play there for hours with Sirius. It was a peaceful place, no parents to scold the two of you, just you and him always. You tripped over a rock, hitting your knees on the ground making you cry at the pain. “It’s okay, I’m here.” Sirius comforted you. “For life?” you asked and he nodded. “For life.” he confirmed.

“For life.” you smiled, and he took your hand to shake it. He pulled you in for a hug, signaling he knew it couldn’t happen. You hugged him back, and soon after he pulled away. He stared at you, his eyes flicking between both of yours. He cleared his throat before walking off, leaving you standing alone in the hallway.

—

Sirius, James, Remus, and Peter sat in the room of requirement. The year before Dumbledore recruited them to join the Order, a cause to fight for freedom and away from the grips of the Dark Lord. They had been tasked by Albus to speak with a wizard who worked under Tom Riddle, a man who knew anything and everything about their upcoming plans. The only problem was the Marauders were having a hard time figuring out a plan. Once they reached this man during the fall break, they wondered how they would get him to rat out his boss without force. They never had any ill intention, that included torturing this man into speaking. Well— Remus and James had no ill intent. Sirius understood how evil the Dark Lord was, and he wouldn’t draw the line at anything if it meant taking him down. Peter often agreed with Sirius.

“You know what would make this easier?” Remus asked, turning towards the group with folded arms. “What?” James sighed, rubbing his face in annoyance. They had been going back and forth with ideas for hours. They could dress up in a Death Eater’s uniform and pretend they were on his side, but that wouldn’t work. This man was smart enough to know who was and wasn’t apart of the Death Eaters. They could torture him, but that was off the table. They could simply just ask, but when would that ever work? “If we had a heart render.” Remus shrugged and Sirius shook his head. “Absolutely not, y/n is off the table and there’s no way we’re going to find a heart render in time.” he was quick to speak up.

“Why exactly is she off the table?” Remus had peaked James’ interest. “Because I know her, and her family. Her family is like mine but a million times worse.” Sirius explained. “I don’t know about a million—” Peter mumbled and Sirius shot him a glare, making him go quiet. Everyone stared at Sirius with begging looks. “I’m serious, she works directly under Voldemort. She wouldn’t take the shot to betray him even if she had the chance.” he recalled to when he pleaded with her to go with him, and she wouldn’t. “That’s why she was taught heart render powers from a young age, she was literally born to work for him.” Sirius continued. “It doesn’t help that she’s gorgeous.” James added which earned a punch to his arm from Sirius. “Okay, ouch.” James grumbled.

“Okay, so maybe she was born for it. But let’s look at it from her stand point. I mean she was born and taught by her sadistic mother, traded off like she was nothing. Maybe she had no other choice.” Remus tried to be understanding. Sirius had told them all about your story. James pointed at him with raised eyebrows in agreement. “I mean think about it, Sirius. She’s a pureblood Slytherin girl who chooses not to associate herself with the Death Eaters at this school. Evan Rosier, Barty Crouch Jr. She won’t even look at them. Maybe there’s some good in her.” Remus continued. Sirius scoffed. “Trust me, there’s not.” Sirius mumbled and stood up. “We’ll find another way, but y/n is not it.” Sirius said sternly and they all slowly nodded, all except for James. Soon after everyone went back to their dorm and headed to bed for the night. James laid awake, tossing and turning. He couldn’t get the idea out of his head, you could help them. He had been told no on a multitude of occasions, but when has that ever stopped him?

—

A week had passed and the four boys walked down the hallway after their classes, all heading for the Gryffindor common room. James turned towards them just as they passed the library, spotting you sitting by yourself inside. This was his chance. “I have to go to— bye!” he lied terribly, running off from them. “What was that about?” Peter asked and Remus laughed. “He probably saw Lily or something.” he teased. James rolled his eyes behind them.

James entered the library, hesitantly walking over to you. You were sitting quite peacefully reading your book. James pulled out the chair next to you. “Hello, y/n. Looking as beautiful as ever.” he complimented and you looked up from your book with a confused and annoyed expression. He stared back and after a beat of silence you finally spoke. “Okay.” you sighed, closing your book and grabbing your things to leave. “No wait, you don’t have to leave!” he spoke up and you turned towards him again. “I’m not a fool, Potter. You clearly want something.” you said in detest. “Okay, fine. I want something.” he finally admitted. “What’s that?” you questioned with an annoyed tone. “I want to know more about heart renderers. Everyone says their so bad but— you don’t seem all that bad to me. I’ve never even see you use it against anyone. Or use it at all.” he shrugged. “So what does someone of your nature do?” he asked. “I think you know.” you sighed. “There has to be some good to it, every horrible thing must have a balance.” James almost begged to know.

You finally gave in. “Okay— I can soothe someone’s temper, slow their heart and make them relax. Which clearly you need because I can hear your heart beating loudly.” you pointed out. “You can hear my heart?” he asked curiously. “I can hear everyone’s. Who is this Lily Evans by the way, every time someone says her name your heart beats quickly.” she observed. “Wait— how do you know that?” he asked. You rolled your eyes and finally set down your book. “When you walked in here Remus said Lily Evans, and your heart quickened in pace.” you teased.

“That’s not important.” James mumbled. “If my heart is beating fast then show me how you calm it.” he asked. “Show me how you can get someone to tell you anything just like Sirius says.” James was trying to gain her trust, to show her he wasn’t afraid like everyone else was. “I can’t, I’m not allowed to on school grounds.” you leaned back in your chair. “No one has to know.” James smirked and you stared at him for a second. He wasn’t lying, and he definitely seemed curious about your power. “Give me your hand.” you gave in. James held out his hand palm up. Your slim fingers trailed down his cold hand, everything seemed to suddenly move slow. His heart beat was loud in your ears, and once your fingers reached his wrist and you touched his pulse, it slowed down to a calming rate. “Tell me what you want.” you spoke softly, your buttery smooth voice being the only thing he could hear. He looked into your eyes, before opening his mouth to speak before he even had the chance to stop.

“I need a heart render, give you the chance to do some good in this world.” he answered honestly. You pulled away and thought for a moment. This was your chance, a safe distance away from Tom Riddle and your mother. This was your chance to finally do some good i with your power. You knew you could trust James, Sirius sure did. They were apart of the Order, something you had grown familiar with when Sirius would tell you about it late hours of the night. This whole thing, him needing a heart renderer, had to do with something like that.

“I’m in.”

—

James walked into the room of requirement for their weekly meeting, a proud smile on his face. “I found a heart renderer.” he said confidently. “What? How did you find—” Peter started but was quickly interrupted when you walked in behind him. “Y/N Y/L/N at your service.” you smiled and everyone had a shocked look on their face, Sirius was no exception. “Y/N Y/L/N?” Both Peter and Remus said aloud. You laughed, moving across the room to face all four boys. “I’ve never had that reaction before.” you smiled which quickly faded when you saw the look on Sirius’ face.

“What are you doing here?” he deadpanned. “I’m here to help.” you shrugged. “James here found me in the library and gave me the whole run down on your little issue here.” you looked towards James who still looked incredibly proud at his doings. “What the hell were you thinking, James? She’s dangerous!” Sirius yelled and you looked over at him with a hurt expression. “You didn’t seem to think so when you came to me to calm yourself down.” you exposed him and he glared at you.

“Listen, we could really use her help.” Remus interjected, and Sirius rolled his eyes. “I don’t mean this to come off rude, but how do we know we can trust you?” Peter asked and you looked at him now. “I mean— don’t you work for you know who?” he asked. “It was more like a limited partnership.” you explained without really having to say much. Everyone fell silent. “Listen, if I was really that devoted to Tom Riddle I definitely would not be helping you idiots get valuable information on him. Yet here I stand.” you held out your arms.

“Okay, so say we can trust you. How do we know you won’t rat us out.” Remus asked and you stared at him before sighing. “I have been used by him my whole life, and never have I been given the chance to actually use these abilities for the better benefit of actually helping people. I think the Order can do just that. I know you’re all suspicious of me, maybe you think I’m using my powers on you right now to trick you, but trust me— you would know.”

“She’s right, it’s like a whole other experience.” James laughed and they all turned quickly to look at him. “She used her powers on you?” Sirius asked in shock. “Of course she did, and let me tell you, whatever she did to me will definitely work on that guy we’re trying to talk to.” James defended your case, something you had never experienced before. “Thank you, James. That was really kind.” you smiled and he nodded. “Fine, but after this you’re done.” Sirius was still suspicious.

“Great! When do we start?”

[bigfatbreak]

sorry, but i didn't really understand what are Marinette's powers as Bitterbug. She creates anything she wants or something like that?

"Fortune's Favor" is a variant of Lucky Charm, except all it can produce is another akuma's special weapon/object/ability, since its not a TRUE Ladybug - just Viceroy/Tom's favorite, and like the OG Lucky Charm, it can only produce one per transformation.

[slytherinslut0]

hey can you please do tom x hufflepuff reader hcs??

Tom Riddle x Hufflepuff!Reader headcanons.

(A/N: idk how this ended up being so long. i got carried away. i love tom. i love his complexity. i could write about him forever. anyways, enjoy:))

tom riddle and a hufflepuff reader would be damn near polar opposites, and there are a few reasons why i say this->

tom is a very reserved man, yet undoubtedly driven by an ambitious and power-hungry nature, always seeking dominance and control in every aspect of his life.

hufflepuffs, on the other hand, are known for their kindness, their loyalty, prioritizing the well-being of others over personal ambition.

tom riddle is the type of man who is not afraid to deceive others for personal gain, while hufflepuffs value fairness and honesty in each of their interactions.

not to mention how tom is emotionally restrained, rarely displaying vulnerability or empathy, while hufflepuffs are known for being emotionally open and expressing genuine care/understanding for others.

i believe tom would be rather annoyed by hufflepuffs, perhaps even put off by their loud, outgoing nature, but i also feel as though he would respect them more than other houses because they are known for being more by-the-book.

i believe this pairing would be WONDERFUL for him, and i’d imagine it’d go a little like this->

perhaps you and tom would be involuntarily paired up for an assignment, an unlikely collaboration that tom figured would be an easy mark for him.

originally, he’d find himself irritated by your constant cheerful and optimistic nature; finding it rather absurd that you weren’t at all fazed by his cold, cunning attitude.

there’d definitely be initial clashes between the two of you, disagreements of methods, but tom would find himself stunned as you met every one of his suggestions with a positive, passionate attitude, not daring to get discouraged or frustrated with him.

your unwavering optimism would be shocking to him. especially in the face of his calculated cynicism. it’d be then, that tom would be astonished by your dedication and genuine passion for learning, a rare quality to obtain.

his initial cold, guarded demeanour would slowly begin to fade.

tom would find himself beginning to pay more attention to you, his curiosity extending to outside the confines of the classroom.

he’d begin to wonder if your genuine kindness is truly authentic or merely a manipulation tactic, leading him to question the sincerity of your character.

which he’d only question because that’s the way his mind works.

he’d never known someone so open and genuine like you. he’d convince himself you had ulterior motives.

however, tom would quickly observe that your authenticity extended universally, and was not just directed at him.

your small acts of kindness and interactions with strangers became evident, and he’d witness your unwavering positivity even in the most challenging situations.

he’d notice how thoughtful you are, how you’d spend your free time maintaining the Owlery, ensuring it’s well-kept and sanitary.

he’d watch you from a distance as you continually brought the owls food and water, giving them attention and love which was something you did upon your own accord, without expecting any compensation.

it became clear to him that you did these things because you genuinely loved to do them, not because you wanted praise for it. and at this, tom was completely taken aback.

your radiant smile, capable of lighting up any room, would become a revelation to him, leaving him puzzled about how he initially overlooked this aspect of your character for all those years.

it’d be here that inner turmoil would begin to brew within tom as he’d have no choice but to acknowledge your ability to see the good within everything and everyone, and especially within him. something not many people are capable of.

as time passed, you couldn't help but notice a gradual softening in him.

during your collaborative sessions on the assignment, he became more receptive to your ideas, actively seeking your thoughts.

surprisingly, he started engaging in conversations beyond the project, asking about your day and exhibiting small changes in his demeanour that were entirely new to you.

tom was breaking, his walls slowly being chipped away by your infectious smile and enthusiasm.

the unexplainable shift in his perspective both intrigued and unsettled him, as you became the catalyst for awakening emotions he never believed he could feel.

he’d try to fight back, he’d try to get himself together, but it was useless. you were in his head, and there was no getting you out.

however, given the fact that tom struggles with showing even the smallest amounts of vulnerability, he’d try to be as subtle as possible with his interest in you. hoping that you’d eventually catch on.

perhaps he’d begin with small gestures, like gifting you a book on rare and beautiful magical creatures, saying that he noticed it in the library and thought of you, believing you might like it.

it would not go unnoticed by you just how considerate this was, and just how much he’d begun to take awareness of your interests.

you found yourself engrossed in the book, a sight that never failed to bring a subtle smile to tom’s face whenever he spotted you across the hall.

observing you immersed in the pages made him quietly content, often requiring a conscious effort on his part to break himself free from the captivation.

his brain would be screaming, “what the hell am i doing?” but he wouldn’t be able to deny just how much he loved seeing you enthralled by the gift.

the feeling was intoxicating, and wholly unfamiliar; he needed more. he needed to do more.

perhaps the next move he’d make would be to gift you a rare enchanted plant, after having noted your love for herbology.

he’d present the plant to you in a subtle way, saying that he’d found it while taking a stroll through the forest and thought you’d like it.

he’d go into details about its properties, its rarity and how to effectively take care of it, even though he knew you already knew all of this.

he knew you absolutely loved the fact that he cared for these plants just as much as you did. this was all part of his plan.

and of course, at this point, you’d have the hunch that he was into you; but being as perceptive and intuitive as you are, you’d know that pestering tom or trying to force him to admit feelings would be useless.

the man moves at his own pace.

so instead, you’d invite him to join you as you cleaned the Owlery, wanting to spend more time with him. the two of you would gradually become closer and closer, tom’s harsh demeanour fading away with the wind with each passing day.

and even still, tom hardly made any advances. tom hardly wanted to put himself in a vulnerable position. he wanted to be sure you wanted him before he ever revealed his intentions.

if he was touchy with you, he’d never insinuate it was because he’s into you. he’d kiss you on the cheek after walking you back to your dorm for the night, and then act like nothing ever happened in the morning.

and this might have annoyed some, but not you.

you understood that this is how tom was, and you admired him for it. you were entirely understanding. you wanted him to open up on his own terms, and you were willing to wait for him.

eventually, tom knew he couldn’t hold back his feelings anymore. he knew he needed to make you his. he knew he’d do fucking anything.

and this feeling would only multiply as he spotted you across the courtyard, speaking to a boy from your house.

your smile was glowing, your laugh was radiating, and the feeling this sight inspired inside tom’s heart could have been enough to ignite the entire castle into pure fucking flame.

whatever he was doing at this moment didn’t matter anymore, he only had one objective in mind.

making you his.

without waiting for you to finish your conversation, he’d interrupt, stating he needed to speak to you.

you’d smile, sensing his urgency, and follow him over to the far side of the courtyard, looking out at the breathtaking view of the faraway valleys and mountains.

as soon as tom was content with your seclusion, he’d cup the back of your head and crash his lips to yours, kissing you with enough fervour to make up for all the days and weeks and months he’d wished he’d have made a proper move.

pulling back, he’d meet your eyes. “i need you to be mine,” he’d whisper, as though the words scared him. “you’ve made me feel things i’ve never known possible, you’ve broken me down without effort. you are the most beautiful, genuine woman i’ve ever met, and i have been falling in love with you for months…i can’t hide it anymore, i need you…”

the words would be music to your ears, the joy unfathomable.

of course, you’d be his.

[pinguwrites]

Our True Nature | Tom Buckley

Pairing -> dom!tom buckley x student!psychic!reader

Summary -> You're different, you always have been; you've know that ever since you were a little kid who made your toys float in the air. Despite your great abilities you've pursued a rather humble life, looking for others like you. Your search comes to an end when you realize that your professor's assistant, Tom Buckley — the one you've been harboring a secret crush on — is a psychic, just like you.

Word count: 4.4k

Warnings: smut (minors dni), dom!Tom and sub!reader, age-gap (not specified, but reader is college-aged), praise kink, slight degradation, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, um superpower play??? telekinesis play??? I don't know what that shit's called, overstimulation, mild breeding kink, tom is wild and says dirty stuff, weird magic lore I made up (you can trust me, I used to write fantasy), mild hamilton reference ig, rough sex but not much emphasis on it

Disclaimer: Red Lights characters, plots, quotes, etc. do not belong to me and belong to the rightful owner(s). This is only fanfiction and this is just for fun.

When you first saw him it was like the world around you stopped. The rain that had been pouring down like a storm the entire day ceased its brutal assault, and in that week of dull weather and gray skies, the sun finally peeked out from behind the clouds and cast a heavenly glow around his body.

He looked like an angel. Dark hair caressed by sunlight, eyes as pale blue as a glacier, and the most handsome face you’d ever seen. It was all right there, across the parking lot of the university, just waiting to be seen. A god amongst humans, a flower in a field of grass.

But then the moment passed. He walked away, without any word or acknowledgment, like he never even saw you at all. It wasn’t until later on did you realize who this man was — Tom Buckley, your new professor’s assistant.

You supposed that was when the attraction started. You tried to kid yourself and say that it was actually halfway through the year when he started offering private study sessions, or when he made it a point to greet you good morning every day, or even when he insisted you call him Tom, but you knew the truth. You had fallen for him the second you saw him but were only too ashamed to admit it.

A god amongst humans.

It was a silly phrase you used to describe him. He wasn’t a god. Not even close to one. He was nothing like you. He couldn’t see visions of the future, or make a door open and close at his whim. He was just a person, a person you had a silly, undeniable crush on. A person you could not stop staring at.

He was currently leading the lesson today, showcasing a video on how a fake psychic used tricks behind the scenes to fool her audience, but you weren’t paying attention at all. Your chin was resting in your hand, and your gaze was upon Tom like he was the only thing that mattered.

You could barely see him in the poor lighting. The best you got was a figure and a shadow on the projection, but that didn’t deter you at all. All you wanted was to observe him, the way he moved, the way he talked, the way his hands would gesture as he explained the concepts students didn’t understand.

He seemed to notice your blatant staring, because after the video ended and he turned the lights back on, his eyes locked with yours, and he did what he always did: made you stay behind after class.

“Is something wrong?” you asked. It was a routine question. When the students got up to leave you would approach his desk, feigning confusion, waiting for him to say, ‘No, nothing, I just wanted to look over the assignment with you.’

You were sure your friends thought you were dumb. Why else would you need extra help all the time? but that was a much better assumption than the idea that you were fucking Mr. Buckley, so you never bothered correcting them.

“No, nothing, I just . . . ” Tom started but then trailed off. From this distance, you could properly admire the light freckles scattered across his pale face and took a moment to save the image in your head. When he continued, your attention snapped back. “I have a couple of questions.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Yeah. Let’s go to my office.” He looked a little nervous for some reason. The walk to his office was spent trying to deduce why. Maybe something was wrong this time.

You sat down on one of the chairs by his desk. His room was filled with all sorts of odd things, namely technology used to disprove — or prove — paranormal activity. Occasionally, this material would be showcased in class, and he and Matheson would do replicas of former encounters to demonstrate how they worked.

You always paid very close attention to those days, in case you ever need the information in the future. How to Evade Ghost Hunters 101!

“What is it? Have I really done something wrong this time?” you joked, in an attempt to lighten the mood.

He laughed. A beautiful smile.

“Of course not, you’re my star student.” Your heart warmed at that. “I just wanted to test some things out with you. For the curriculum, Dr. Matheson and I were considering adding it to the course, and we want your opinion.”

You nodded. “That’s fine with me.”

“Good.”

He opened a drawer and pulled out a tarot card pack.

“We want to do a lesson on how pictures and symbolism can be manipulated to fit the victim’s life,” he said, shuffling the deck. “Tarot cards are so vague and general — The Fool, for example, represents new beginnings and adventure. Is that not the foundation of everyone’s life? To explore, to be inexperienced?”

You agreed. “And how are you planning on presenting this to the class? Give out a tarot reading to everyone?”

Tom chuckled. “I just want to try it out with you, to prove it.”

He held out the cards for you to pick, but you stopped him. “Aren’t I supposed to tell you what I want to know?”

There was a brief silence, and if you looked carefully, you could see a light pink tinge glaze over his cheeks, and his breathing hitch ever so slightly, his Adam’s apple bobbing. 

“Don’t worry. Whatever you want to know about me,” you offered, amused at his reaction. “Tell me, what are you looking for?”

“I want to know your secrets,” he admitted. “I want to know what you’re hiding.”

“You’ll be disappointed. There’s nothing interesting about me.”

“We’ll see.”

You picked three cards and placed them down on the table. Each representative of either the past, present, or future, or at least, that’s how you were assuming he was doing the reading.

He turned the first card. It was The Star, reversed. 

“Something in the past was bothering you,” he said. “You felt hopeless, like you had no more motivation . . . Am I right in guessing it was the result of something specific?”

“Yes,” you said. Obviously, his reading wasn’t true, how could it be? he wasn’t like you, but he was definitely right about the way people manipulated the symbolism. You doubted he knew the real reason why you had been so depressed.

He flipped over the next card. The Lovers. 

He grinned. “I’m sure you can guess what this means. Are you in a relationship?”

You shook your head.

“Then it’s about a potential someone. You’ll find your complimentary, someone you can balance with — it could be platonic, or romantic, but no matter the type of relationship, they’ll be loving, and supportive.”

You looked into his eyes before returning your attention back down to the cards. Oh, how you wished it was him. 

He turned the last card.

“The Ten of Cups. Your desires will be fulfilled. You’ll be happy, whatever problems you had in the past will be resolved.”

It was silent for a moment. You expected him to ask you questions of how accurate it was, and how quickly you connected his predictions to events in your life, but he didn’t.

“Do you believe in magic?” he asked bluntly. “The supernatural? You either do or you don’t, I can’t imagine you’d be wasting your time in this class if your opinion was neutral.”

You felt like you’d been put right on the spot. You thought about the right way to answer. “I believe in it, in the sense that I’m open about what we don’t know, and am optimistic about all the possibilities.”

He all but rolled his eyes. “C’mon. That was so wordy. I want to hear the truth.”

He leaned in closer. Your faces were inches apart, and you could feel his minty breath on your face. 

“Yes,” you breathed out. “I believe in magic.”

He pulled away, satisfied. “I believe in magic, too.”

You quirked an eyebrow, amused. “Oh? Have you ever seen it in action?”

“Maybe,” he answered vaguely, a grin on his face. “Let me see your palm.”

You wanted to laugh, but you yourself was very eager to comply with his demands, not because you thought the experiments were interesting, but rather you enjoyed spending time with him, and the prospect of him touching you—even though it was only your hand—was thrilling.

Tom caressed the lines on your palms. He was distracted by it.

You weren’t sure what it was about him that made you so drawn. You didn’t believe in love at first sight, it was only something based on lust and looks, but this was more. You didn’t just like him, you found him utterly attractive, in a way that surpassed physicality.

It certainly wasn’t his personality. You thought you two were compatible in mentality, and you got along well, but he was rather boring. He wasn’t fiery nor exciting, nothing that could take you off guard or pique your curiosity. 

He was intelligent. He told you he used to study physics, something you just had to respect him for, but you didn’t know that until just recently, and it’s not like his day-to-day actions showcased his genius. 

You really didn’t know what it was, and a part of not knowing made it all the more mysterious. But it also made you feel vulnerable. In less than a year, you had become so hopelessly, irrevocably, in love with someone. He could do anything and you wouldn’t blink an eye. He had so much power over you, and he didn’t even know it.

“Can you feel it?” he asked softly, looking up at you.

You pulled your hand away, too flustered. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He took your hand again, unrelenting. He gripped it tighter, encasing it in his warmth. It felt so nice.

“Between us,” he clarified, his voice low. He was gazing at you intently.

“What do you mean?”

“Are you like me?” he asked, his tone almost desperate. “I see you do things, impossible things. When you drop a pencil in class it floats back up to your hand, when your coffee gets too cold I see you wrap your hand around the cup and make it bubble. No one else notices, but I do. I see it.”

You froze, or rather, your mind was instantly filled with so many thoughts you couldn’t comprehend them all at once. 

You thought you were careful with your abilities because up until now, no one had caught you. Not since you were a teenager who copied off others during a test, not since you got your first car and put it on autopilot so you could sleep during a drive, not even since you were a little girl who was too lazy to tie her own braid at school. 

“T-Tom,” you stuttered. “I don’t . . .”

And what was that he said about being like him? Was he implying that he could do these things too? That after all these years of searching, you’d finally found another psychic?

Tom’s face fell. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have.” He chuckled nervously. “I don’t know what I was saying. Just forget it.”

He cleared his throat. You still didn’t say anything. It was like someone had pressed a mute button and you couldn’t speak, no matter how badly you wanted to say something.

“You should go,” he suggested. “Thank you, for all the help.”

He stood up, and you did too, mirroring his actions. He lead you over to the exit. “Have a nice day, I look forward to seeing you in class next week.”

You turned around, not wanting to leave yet. “Tom . . .”

He was about to close the door when you stopped it with your foot, budged it open, and leapt into his arms, placing a passionate kiss on his lips.

You didn’t know what you were doing. You didn’t know what you were thinking. All that you knew was that you wanted him. Badly. As you pushed your way back inside the room, you feared for a moment that he was going to shove you off, tell you he didn’t mean it like that, but he didn’t. He pulled you inside and lifted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist, and sat you on top of his desk, returning the kiss with even more intensity.

“Tom,” you all but moaned. You felt confused and dazed, but with the way Tom was nibbling at your neck, sucking and licking, you could tell he wasn’t in the same boat as you. You relaxed, letting everything go. You could let him take care of this—whatever this was. Let him take care of you.

“Can I take it off?” he asked in between kisses. He tugged at your shirt, fingers hovering above the buttons.

“Mhm,” you nodded. “Please, please, please—”

The buttons unbuttoned themselves. You gasped a little in surprise as your shirt was tossed to the side. That was all the confirmation you needed—Tom Buckley was just like you. 

The realization that you had finally found another was lost when he started kneading your breasts through your bra. “Such a needy girl,” he cooed. “Didn’t know she could get like that. Doesn’t want to answer my questions but needs me to please her.”

“Fuck,” you let out, surprised at the dirty talk, but pleased nonetheless. “I just want you.”

“I know you do. Staring at me like a piece of meat in class. That’s all I am to you, hmm? Just a hot teacher to fuck. You tell your little friends about me?”

“No!” You whined when his hands went underneath your bra and pinched your nipple. “Ow! I’ve never told anyone.”

“Ah, I knew you were a good girl.”

You whined again and nuzzled your head in the crook of his shoulder, not wanting him to see how flustered he was making you. 

“Pretty girl,” he murmured, unclasping your bra, watching your breasts fall out. “Beautiful girl . . . Can I suck?”

“Yes!” you said impatiently. You found it sexy that he kept asking for permission, but also annoying—he needed to get straight to the point, and stop teasing you.

He latched his lip onto your hard nipple, swirling his tongue around the bud, occasionally nipping on it. While his mouth was occupied, his hands were roaming your body, up to your face and down to as far as he could reach, which while you were sitting down, was all the way to your ankles.

He switched nipples and went to your other breast, making you release a sigh of satisfaction. He eventually let go and gave you another kiss, his tongue slipping inside.

You looked down. He was hard, subtly trying to grind himself between your legs. “Mmm,” he moaned against your lips. 

His moan was wonderful. If not for your own pleasure, you wanted to continue this just so you could elicit another sound out of him.

In a bold move, you reached down and squeezed his crotch. He let out a sound, more strangled this time, and pulled away, a string of saliva connecting you both.

He placed his hand over the hand that was palming his cock, encouraging you to keep going, with eyes shut and nose scrunched up. He then moved it to lean on your shoulders.

“Do you like it rough or vanilla?” he asked. “I can do both.”

You tried to hide your grin. “Rough.”

He knew that by saying that you didn’t want it completely that way. The actions, yes, but you still wanted to hear him praise you, to caress you, to whisper sweet things in your ear.

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” He picked you — handsome and strong — and laid you down on the couch. It wasn’t that large, but at least it was more comfortable than his desk, and you didn’t want to wait any longer by going to his place or yours.

“I want to let you know,” he started seriously, “that this isn’t a, uh, one-night stand. I don’t want that, not from you.”

“I don’t want that either,” you said. 

“And I don't do this often. Well, I don't do this at all. With other students, I mean. You’re the first. I don’t want you to think that I’m just, how do you say it? playing you?”

You giggled. He didn’t seem like the playboy type at all. In fact, when most men and women flirted with him, he usually got all uncomfortable and quiet, a fact that boosted your ego, as he never felt that way around you.

“This is serious for me, too. Let’s keep it a secret until this semester is over. And when I’m out of your class we can make it public, okay?”

He nodded, and leaned down to kiss you again, soft and delicate. 

“Take off your shirt,” you demanded.

He smiled at your behavior. It took a minute, because he was wearing his suit, but he managed to get it off with your help. You didn’t want to damage his clothing, it was probably on the more expensive side, and he looked so exquisite in it. 

You admired his chest. He was lean, but you could still see some faint muscles. After all, he had carried you to the couch. He was perfect. It was just what you had hoped for.

This moment didn’t feel real. How was it that you had gotten so lucky? You were here with the man of your dreams, in his arms, and you were about to make love. 

“Get on your knees.”

You did as he asked. You had done this a couple times before, so you weren’t really worried. You could even take cock all the way in, but when you saw his size, you gulped.

He guided your face to it. You licked the tip to the base to the balls, wondering how you were going to make it fit. You reasoned with yourself that if you couldn’t you could just use your hands for the rest.

That was, until he slid his cock inside your mouth and pushed it as far as he could. You controlled your gag reflex and started bobbing your head up and down, the sensation causing your eyes to tear, but not in pain. 

He wiped them away. “Are you okay?”

You didn’t say anything, not with your mouth filled. You showed your answer by sucking him, fondling his balls, looking up at him through fluttering eyelashes.

“Ohhh, you take it so well. So well.”

He pushed your head all the way down, keeping it there for a few seconds. You breathed in through your nose, trying to keep yourself under control whilst still making the experience pleasurable for him. He seemed to like it, with the way he was rolling his hips against your mouth, even though there was nothing left to fit inside. 

Then, suddenly, you felt something rubbing your clit through your pants. You tried to pull off of Tom, concerned at what it might be, when you realized it was him. He was the one doing it, making you feel this way. 

He kept your head in place, a pleased smile on his face. “Like that?”

You moaned. You couldn’t concentrate on him, not when your body was being pleasured so good. How much practice had he had with his abilities? How could he focus when you were going down on him? It was probably the age. He wasn’t that much older than you, but he was older, and surely that came with more practice. 

He pulled you off of him after a few minutes of you squirming and gagging, placing you down on the couch. He made sure your head was in a comfortable position before taking off your pants and pulling out his cock. Your pussy was still being rubbed, by whatever invisible force he was using, and it was about to make you come.

“I—I’m gonna—”

“I know,” he shushed, pressing his cock at your entrance. 

“Let me make you—”

“No,” he growled. “I’m going to come inside of you. Don’t think, just let your professor handle it.”

You knew he wasn’t technically your professor. He was just the TA, but it was still sexy to hear him say that. It reminded you of your student-teacher relationship, the forbiddeness of it all. 

You came just as his cock slid in. He sighed, feeling your pussy flutter and your cream leak out on him. He looked down, taking in the view, before pulling his cock out and slamming it back in, taking you off guard. 

His pace was unrelenting. You didn’t know he could be so animalistic. He was panting and groaning in your ear, holding your body in place even though you weren’t going anywhere. He was still rubbing your clit — technically — but you didn't mind. You could take another orgasm.  Besides, you weren’t sure if he would stop even if you asked. He looked so blissed out, like he was in another world, the only thing driving him his primal instinct.

“Gonna fill you up so good,” he said, increasing the intensity of his pace. The couch was now shuffling a little, moving forward a little bit each time, but Tom didn’t seem to notice. “You need it so bad. Just want me to take care of you, yeah?”

“Yes,” you cried out, rather pathetically. It was crazy to think how submissive this man could make you. You had never been like this with any of your other partners, but with him, you felt safe, like you trust him with anything.

“I can imagine — you in class, giving me one of those eyes you always do. Fuck — the other students don’t suspect a thing, but both you and I know that I’ll have you over my desk by evening.”

The thought alone made your mind whirl.

“I should fill your panties with my cum, make you walk around in it,” he said. That shouldn’t have aroused you as much as it did. He noticed your reaction. “Oh, you enjoy hearing me say those things? Those depraved, dirty things.”

He hit that spot in you, the one that made you go crazy, and you cried out, clutching his shoulders.

“There it is,” he said, mostly to himself, as he kept ramming that spot over and over again. The added sensations made you go limp in his arms. You could feel that familiar coil in your stomach, the one that told you you were going to orgasm again.

You threw your head back, looking up at the ceiling as you came, but your peace of mind didn’t last long. He grabbed your chin and forced you to look back at him, beating that same spot again, all while continuing the assault on your clit. “Look at me, I want to see your face.”

You looked right into his eyes, his beautiful blue eyes, and you could tell an orgasm was coming for him, too.

You felt a little ashamed that in such a short time he had made you come twice, and you hadn’t at all — at least, not yet — but like he said before, he didn’t want you to think, so you didn’t, and let whatever thoughts you had left bouncing around in your head leave.

“You’re wonderful,” he praised, kissing you again. He couldn’t get enough of it. Your teeth clashed briefly, but neither of your cared. He just wanted to taste you. “I can’t wait to be with you.”

With that, he came inside, filling you up to the brim with his hot seed. He kept his cock in, holding your hips in place, until he was satisfied and pulled out.

He laid on top of you on the couch, caressing the side of your cheek as you both recovered and took your breath. 

It was silent. Just the two of you, in his office. You had finally found the one. The one you were sure you were going to spend the rest of your life with, all happy and in love like a fairytale.

“I didn’t . . . I didn’t think I’d ever find another,” you finally said.

“I didn’t either. I’m glad it was you. I’m glad it’s you I get to share this with.”

“Hey, what was with the cards? Were you just testing me?”

“Yeah.” He turned to face you. “I wasn’t sure if I was just seeing things. I mean, you get up so early and go to work, sometimes you just imagine a kid opening a door on its own or playing tricks with her assignments. I had to be sure.”

“So, you weren’t intending to tell my future?”

“You can’t actually do that,” he said.

“Yes you can.”

He blinked, surprised. 

“I know you said the interpretation is very broad, but it still works.”

“You can actually tell the future?”

“Yeah. It doesn’t have to be with Tarot cards only. But whatever methods, I don’t do it often, I feel like it messes with things. But sometimes I just get these images in my head, and I can’t stop it.”

It hadnt occurred to you that even though you were both psychic, your powers, or at least, the direction you went with them, were different.

“If you weren’t reading my future, what were you doing?”

“I noticed that objects imbued with magic, especially artifacts, radiated energy—a feeling, one that only I could sense. If I gave the same impression on those cards, and you happened to pick them, it would either be a huge coincidence or it would mean you were drawn to them, albeit unknowingly. It was just something to give me more confidence.”

You weren’t aware that was something a person could do. You supposed there were plenty of things you didn’t know. You were looking forward to learning from him, and teaching him as well. You were both in uncharted waters, not knowing where this would lead you both. But it was okay, as long as you had him by your side.

You did worry a little that this intense connection you felt with him was only in an otherworldly sense, that you fell for him because of this magic, but you shook the thought away. That wasn’t true. You wouldn’t let it be true. You loved him and he loved you—and that was it. Nothing more. 

“I can do another round,” he said suddenly. “You?”

You grinned and nodded. “Yeah. But this time, I want to ride you.”

He laughed and flipped you both over so that you were on top of him. “Show me how you get off, babygirl.”

Taglist:

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[sepublic]

            Thinking about how Watching and Dreaming is a story about Choices, their relation to Change, and the Responsibility that comes with that.

         It’s about Luz choosing to be a hero, choosing herself, choosing happiness in a world where she’s made any friends; The Titan herself tells Luz that he can’t decide anything for her, it’s Luz’s decision to accept his power and return to the isles to stop Belos. It’s Luz’s choice to be a Good Witch.

         Choosing just one magic course? Luz has always been unique about choices in her own way, she can’t decide on just one thing if she can have them all; Hence why she studies all magic tracks. Why Luz maintains connections to the human and demon realms. Even her bisexuality could be seen as a meta refusal to settle for one; So it all culminates in her palisman String Bean, who represents Luz not so much being indecisive, but rather choosing it all. Choosing all of the choices, with an intent that really does make a difference to her nervousness from before.

         It’s the Collector’s choice to become better, to let go of their anger and loneliness. It’s about choosing to change, something Belos never does; What makes him ‘irredeemable’ is not all of the heinous crimes he’s committed, it’s the fact that no matter how many times he is offered the opportunity to change, even be forgiven, Belos chooses not to take it. He refuses to change.

         But the Collector does. And they’re rewarded when King chooses to give them Francois; And it was always about King’s choice, his decision that the Collector respected. It was never about having Francois, hence why they didn’t cuddle with Francois behind King’s back, rescued him from Belos’ grasp and returned him to where he belonged.

         By contrast, the Collector’s control defies the ability to choose, because they decide everything for everyone. But he can’t force people to be his friends, it’s up to them, especially on whether to forgive. The students at Hexside are understandably scared of the Collector, and in the end, the kid can’t choose for them to be his friends; That’s something they decide for themselves, even if it’s the choice he wouldn’t have liked.

         THAT was the Collector’s mistake with Belos; It was not compassion’s folly. It was that they assumed by giving Belos a chance to change, he would automatically choose to do so; In a sense, the Collector expected that choice to be made for Belos just by offering him the opportunity to take it. But it’s just a change, a possibility, there is no certainty. The Collector can’t make Belos change as a person, they can’t control him either; They can only hope, but never assume on his behalf.

         Belos also chose things for people; Made them decide on just one magic track, and/or servitude to him. Insisted to Luz she ‘choose better’ by settling for humanity, took away agency through direct possession of Raine and the Titan. Both of whom fight back and regain some semblance of change and control but for themselves. In his final moments, Belos pretends he was a victim like them; Absolves himself of responsibility by claiming he didn’t have a choice, that he was forced to by his nebulous ‘curse’, and deep down he must believe God’s Destiny also spares him accountability.

         But by placing himself at Luz’s mercy, it gives Luz the power to decide Belos’ fate; And she doesn’t choose ‘peace’ like Belos hopes, because like with the Collector, merely offering a choice does not make someone take it. Raine and the Titan still managed to fight back and decide things for themselves, as did Hunter, and so many under his coven. Caleb was under the same indoctrination growing up but changed anyway; Philip has nobody but to blame but himself, for being passive.

         People choose to get better, or don’t; There are covenscouts like Tom and his group, confronted by Steve who chose to change and improve. And when offered the compassion and opportunity to do the same, they accepted; They chose improvement. Meanwhile, Coven Heads like Terra, Adrian, and Vitimir choose to stay the same. They don’t want to change, and it’s up to people like Darius and Eberwolf to prevent any more harm from them.

         Alador chooses to change for his kids, because he misses them. He wants to be a dad they can look up to, and love. This is contrasted by Odalia, who bitterly stands off to the side; She could’ve chosen this moment to change, because it’s not like there were any other opportunities to pursue. But she doesn’t want to change.

         And that’s part of theme of Choice, it’s that you have to choose to change, proactively and make it happen, or accept that change has happened regardless of your participation. When you have the ability, you have the responsibility, both in what to choose and the consequences that come. Philip didn’t want to face the consequences of his actions, denied responsibility. But people like Luz and the Collector and so many took responsibility; They saw they were hurting others and/or themselves, stopped and fixed the damage, and grew up. There is a responsibility to always offer compassion, even if you accept that people might reject it anyway.

         Belos didn’t want to change, nor did he accept that times have changed; His brother is dead, there’s no bringing Caleb back. The human world has changed, he saw as such through Hunter’s eyes when the Gravesfield that indoctrinated him ultimately looked back on its witch hunting prejudice and decided that was wrong, admitted it changed.

         Things can’t last forever, the Collector is convinced by Luz to accept change, not just in letting go, but also in learning about and acknowledging death. Just as Luz accepted her father Manny’s death; Belos being a cancerous growth that envelops the Titan, who is a father figure to King and low key Luz herself, is a metaphor for whatever illness killed Manny. By helping the Collector, a child who doesn’t understand death, Luz basically helps her childhood self; And by stopping Belos, she comes to terms with Manny’s death, and conquers her grief to move on and find a new future and a new family.

         Because Luz and the Collector accept change, that means they don’t need to maintain an unnatural stasis; They’re able to wake up from their fantasy dreams by coming to terms with the loss of loved ones, for Luz her dad, for the Collector their previous Titan friends, and their fear of losing King. Belos, he clings to his dream of being a hero, and never wakes up, even insisting in his final words that it’s the witches who are evil, not actually him. Belos clung to the past of Gravesfield and his trauma, and was forced to face the now, the consequences that came afterwards with his sins, in the form of people actually alive and very angry.

         But even with Belos’ death, the isles changed because of him, alas; The left arm has permanently risen, the geography of that area is drastically different and people must adapt. The Titan has finally, truly died, after he moved on, no thanks to Belos; No more of HIS glyphs, but there are King’s. So things change, and Luz accepts that; Even before King’s glyphs develop, the fact that she changed enough to earn String Bean allows her to survive this period of no glyph magic to rely on just fine, and build and plan a future around that.

         There are still scars, like the literal ones of Luz, King, Eda, Hunter, and Raine; Or the emotional scars like the death of Flapjack, the trauma that everyone has suffered and is healing from. But because so many characters chose to change, and to accept change, they themselves became people so radically different, and so much happier for it. So when they all appear before Luz to thank her, to express gratitude for the compassion that enabled them to decide to change, and become new people for it…

         It’s all about Choices. It’s about Freedom. It’s about Change, how you must facilitate and/or accept it. Control is antithetical to this, at least in application to others; But when you can control yourself and exercise autonomy, that’s wonderful. People like Amity, Lilith, Bump, Alador, and so many others chose to change and become better people, to create change in themselves and the world around them. Eda and King took responsibility for their actions, Eda accepting her curse was no excuse to push aside Raine, King becoming responsible with the implications of his divinity by rejecting them to be humble.

         Luz changed people, and she never forced them to. She simply gave them the same choice that she chose for herself, and that’s beautiful. There is no Destiny that’s decided ahead of time for you, no God who decides your role in the world. There is no ‘Chosen One’, one for whom a decision has been made by someone else and thrust upon them, there is only One who Chooses. It’s all about deciding for yourself, and that’s part of the uncertainty but also freedom of growing up.

        Luz chose to enter a foreboding shack. She chose to go back for her father’s book, to remain a weirdo, for herself and for Manny. And she chose to stay in the isles rather than go back. She’s been making choices all this time, deciding her own fate and as Eda advised her, what kind of witch Luz wants to be; A Good Witch.

[celaenaeiln]

Okay but you can’t just say “I'm not going to get into their brother relationship because that involves how Alfred treats Dick as a son rather than a grandson and is opening a whole new mansion of stuff so I'm going to wrap this up here” and not follow up with another post because that’s just cruel 😔😞 (aka this is me saying I really like & enjoy reading your interpretations and I need more of them HEHE)

😂😂😂😂😂😂

Thank you!!!! <3333

I love thinking about how Alfred treats Dick more of a son than a grandson because their relationship is different from Alfred's relationship with the other kids. Furthermore, it also explains a bunch of his actions.

First of, I know when everyone saw that Alfred had left Dick his entire inheritance they went "What the fuck." There were a bunch of jokes and questioning about why Alfred would do that and a lot of people have wrote it off as Tom Taylor's writing. But here's the thing. Tom Taylor has done a lot of stupid stuff in terms of characterization but he's done quite a few things right and one of them was adequately explaining Dick and Alfred's relationship.

I don't know how many people can read cursive but it says, "I invested much of this wisely and ethically...In fact, I planned to come to you for advice. Like Bruce, your mind is astonishing. You are a problem-solver and the world is full of problems." (There's actually panel during one of Dick and Slade's fight I have saved so lemme know if you or anyone is interested in Dick's innovativeness and how it makes his a terrifying opponent.)

Let me pause right there. This is Alfred's life savings. It's every piece of penny he's saved and every minute of his life is in that money. On top of what he says about Dick's intellect-and I agree and can prove it-he must've loved and trusted Dick an extraordinary amount to do this.

Alfred goes on to say, "I couldn't think of better hands to leave this fortune in. I believe you will see this, not as a personal gain, but as an opportunity. Because I believe in Dick Grayson."

He continues praising him and- HERE IT IS- "I am so very proud to call you my son."

DICK IS ALFRED'S SON.

This is the cleanest, clearest panel where he explicitly says it.

Hold on-this is the cleanest panel that says it? Wait a minute, let me retract that:

"Master Bruce was my son for a while. And then there was you."

THIS MOMENT HAS BEEN BUILDING UP ON US FOR YEARS. Tom Taylor wasn't doing lip service, he was just writing the inevitable!

I swear there's a panel where Dick refers to Alfred as his dad...

*Record scratch* WHAT DID ALFRED CALL DICK? WHAT DID DICK CALL ALFRED?

THIS IS WHY I LOVE THEM!!! THEY ARE GLORIOUS, BRILLIANT, UNDERRATED, AND NO ONE UNDERSTANDS THE FULL EXTENT OF EITHER OF THEIR ABILITIES, LOVE, OR DEPTH OF EMOTIONS.

THEIR RELATIONSHIP IS ON A DIFFERENT LEVEL.

Take the Ric Grayson arc for another example.

Background context: Dick-Ric-was sleeping on the counter and all of a sudden he was startled out of a nightmare thus accidentally ending up bumping into the guy next to him who was drinking. Of course the guy doesn't mind only because it's Dick but anyways, here Alfred makes his entrance. Another thing I love about about this interaction is this is one of the few times Alfred has ever admitted to being in the military. The only other time I can think of him openly saying that is when he's slapping Bruce around.

The worry in the man's eyes for his wayward son...when Bea is snarking with Dick about his tab Alfred decides to pay for him instead.

LOOK AT HIS EYES AS HE SAYS GOOD NIGHT! THE AMOUNT OF EMOTION HE HAS IN THEM IS PURE PERFECTION. THE MAN JUST WANTS HIS SON TO COME BACK.

Not to mention, Alfred adores Dick in a way he didn't even with Bruce.

"For a long time I would dread coming down to this dark hellhole. But the advent of young Grayson has forced an alteration in my attitude. The masters have made much progress in these few short months. I was opposed initially to the recruitment of the lad in Master Bruce's self-appointed 'War on Crime.' But I am prepared to admit my error. Master Richard has mad a difference for the better to our lives."

This is HUGE. Coming from Alfred, this is massive because Alfred LOATHES Bruce's "War on Crime." How much?

So much that he slapped Bruce bloody for it.

The pseudo-father and son beat each other to pieces over it. So after years of Alfred hating Bruce for what he's done, for him to say he only accepts it because of Dick-because of Dick's personality-is enormous praise and accomplishment.

Alfred loves Dick in a way he doesn't love anyone else. And before I get flamed by people for suggesting Alfred loves Dick more than Bruce, I want to say he loves Dick as much as Bruce but in a different manner. He doesn't see Dick as a grandchild who needs to be coddled and softened, he sees Dick as a son he can spoil and cherish.

Him paying off the tab was not only an act of kindness, but it mimicks the way a rich father gives everything to his youngest son. Bruce was the first born he raised but Dick was the baby of their family. This also ties in with how Bruce doesn't see Dick as just him son like he does with the others. To Bruce, they are just as much brothers as anything else.

When Bruce fires Dick from Robin after two-face, Alfred couldn't take it lightly. Dick wasn't just the light of Bruce's life, he was the fucking sun to Alfred's.

I started crying when I read this because the emotions and the pain he's feeling is so visceral. A man who has been MI5 and SAS (Special Airforce Service), who has fought wars, who has fought his son, lost his best friends, is breaking down alone at the top of the stairs over not having Dick as Robin.

You might think that's not all that sad. Worse things have happened. You're overreacting.

Tears are literally streaming down my face as I'm writing this review. Rudolph nose and ugly bloodstained eyes complete with it.

Can you ever imagine loving someone so much?

Crying in silence with a steady voice to never let them know your sorrow?

But sure, sure, he's cried when others were killed like this so I'll go into other special things.

Some of his best moments are with Dick:

The pure adoration in his eyes as he watches his young son go 'flap' 'flap' 'flap' with his older brother's too big cloathes.

He's laughing! Do you know the only times he laughs or grins like that?

That's right-with Bruce! With his other son.

With Dick, he laughs, gets angry, and actually shows interest in things not related to people's health. Dick humanizes Alfred.

Who is the only other person Alfred has gotten mad at? Oh yeah. Bruce.

There's another panel where Alfred just sits by his bedside holding his hand.

It's the little things that matter is a lie. When it comes to Dick, Alfred does things in fighter jet air shows level of affection which he learned just for this during his SAS days.

Their shared interests & mutual understanding

People always think Dick and Alfred have nothing in common between them. Dick is excitable, bouncy, and some other adjective while Alfred is calming, stoic, and butler-y. They actually forget that Dick and Alfred canonically bond of plays. Dick, as I said before, is a massive theater nerd. He loves plays. He really wanted to see that shakespeare play and Alfred said he would take him because he knows people there and then went on to complain about how his brother didn't even drop by to see him. I love their interactions because Dick brings out a different side to Alfred.

Das Rheingold was a German musical drama that was performed as a single opera at the National Theatre Munich. This is the link if you're interested in reading a short synopsis of this complicated play by the Metropolitan Opera. It's like a mix of "The Lord of the Rings" and "The Rings of Power."

Also the fact that Alfred is tying his tie like a father would tie his son's.

I know they make a crack out of it by using Bugs Bunny (Bugs Bunny is a fantastic cartoon! I grew up on it!) but Alfred knows that Dick loves opera and theater and is only asking if this particular play will suit his interests. Okay, great, we know Dick likes theater. You've said that and posted about it before. But how do we know Alfred likes it too and not just because he's British and posh and whatnot?

He has preformed at the London Theater, and this is another way he connects to Dick emotionally. When Dick complains about being Batman, Alfred is the one that tells him:

This is something Alfred understands about Dick that absolutely no one in the family does.

The two of them are show people. They know how to play the role they were given, and they know how to play it well. No one suspects Alfred the Butler of ruthlessly using firearms and no one suspects Dick the Light of the Universe to ruthlessly to manipulate allies.

Dick knows this about Alfred too and never presses for any answers. When Alfred's pulling out a bullet from Dick and performing high level medical techniques he should know nothing about, Dick asks him, "Where did you learn all this, Alfred." To which Alfred responds, "You would be amazed at what you can pick up by watching the Discovery Channel." Dick just gives a pained laugh retorts about his wonderful bedside manners.

They know.

What Alfred sees in Dick is a pure goodness that can't be emulated. He loves his son for how absolutely good he is and is devastated when Dick can't be with him. Of everyone, Dick is the one Alfred is closest to. Other members have their moments with him but no one continually seeks out his presence just for the fact they like him aside from Dick. The rest treat him as an important side character, not a parent. And Alfred responds to that devotion with overwhelming love of his own.

Alfred and Bruce's optimism comes bundled up in the form of Dick. It's stunning how it's always Alfred of all people who admits this. Alfred who isn't supposed to show favoritism or bias is the one that consistently acknowledges how important Dick is to the family and him. This solidifies the fact that Dick is Alfred's favorite.

Other moments that differentiate Dick and Alfred's relationship:

We're pretty familiar with this and many of us have laughed it off when Alfred scolded Dick (also Dick looks hot af here). But can you imagine even anyone else playfully mocking Alfred? THIS. BOY. IS. SPECIAL. Alfred doesn't even blink twice at the address, indicating how typical it is for Dick to act that way with him. You only do that to people you're best friends with.

Casual comfort, the two of them.

Dick and Bruce were brothers and how that ties into Alfred:

Adding to my "Light of Bruce's life" Robin Dick canon, Alfred told Dick that Bruce "would have self-distructed if he hadn't met me and learned responsibility. I made him laugh, and he was like the greatest big brother you could ever imagine...it was our town."

Bruce and Dick are so damn codependent.

Bruce would not have survived without Dick. That's all there is to it.

Robin Dick was the light shining through rain clouds, the glitter in the air, the angel with golden wings, the giggling sweetheart to Alfred and Bruce. He was sunshine, love, and joy and the men both adored, thrived, and cherished him for it.

And if Dick and Bruce were brothers then Alfred was Dick's father and he was Alfred's son.

[tkaulitzlvr]

Can you do tom getting overprotective of reader at a party??

STAY CLOSE - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: you and tom attend a party together, and he does everything to make sure that you don’t leave his side - even for a second.

content: fluff

a/n: love love loveeee this idea bc i can so picture tom being all overprotective of his girlfriend at a party, hope u like it anon!!

“liebe, you nearly ready?” tom calls out from the bedroom, my eyes concentrated on the bathroom mirror in front of me, completely focused on getting my lipliner perfect - having failed miserably the past five times.

“just a second!” i say, pressing my lips together, ensuring they are fully covered, before releasing them with a pop. i stand upright, looking into the mirror as i adjust my dress, running my fingers through my straightened hair, making sure everything is perfect. my outfit leaves little to the imagination - a small black dress with spaghetti straps, no bra underneath, paired with some black heels. i know that tom will be all over me tonight, not only out of lust and his lack of ability to restrain himself, but out of protectiveness, becoming overly possessive whenever we attend a party like this.

finally satisfied with myself, i open the bathroom door, tom looking upwards from his small flip phone as he lays on the bed, his lips curving into a sly smirk once he sees me. i know that look all too well. he gets up, walking towards me, his eyes dark, hooded with pure lust. his hands run up and down my waist, squeezing gently as he moves my hair to one side, placing short and firm kisses to my shoulder and collarbone.

“you look so beautiful.” he mutters, his tongue running over the skin, hands exploring my hips. “don’t know how i’m gonna hold back, wanna rip this off you right now.”

his thumb and pointer finger pinch the stretchy material of my dress, letting it ride up a little, exposing my thighs as he smiles, giving the flesh a rough squeeze, leaving a slight mark in his hand’s place. honestly, if it were up to me, we wouldn’t be going to this party in the first place. i would much rather he act on his impulses, throwing me against that bed behind me. the way his tongue nudges his lip piercing as he continues his actions makes my mind travel to places that i know it shouldn’t be going right now, but his voice soon takes me out of my fantasy, reminding me that we were running late, thanks to me and my lack of time management, taking almost two hours to get ready.

“you ready to go?” he asks, taking his hand in mine, grabbing his car keys out of his pocket once i nod my head.

༻❦༺

the bass echoing from the speakers drums through my ears, the air hot and thick as we walk through the front door. the place is completely packed, tom’s hand securely around mine as he guides me to the kitchen counter, checking behind him occasionally to make sure that i am okay, his tendency to worry in these sorts of settings already kicking in.

he pushes through a couple more people, finally reaching the kitchen island, scattered with an array of every drink i could think of. tom takes my hand, pulling me in next to him, wrapping his arm tightly around my waist as i stand flush against the counter, my back against his chest.

“you okay?” he asks, planting a quick kiss on my cheek, reaching forward and grabbing himself a beer. i nod my head, his face softening a little. “you want a drink?”

i point to the vodka, and he knows exactly how i like it, inspecting the liquid in each bottle before he pours it into a glass, handing it to me as his other hand runs up and down my waist, eyes scanning around the room.

“can we go dance?” i yell, shouting over the music, this apparently not enough as tom furrows his eyebrows, bending down a little and turning his head to the side, leaning inwards so that his ear is in front of my lips.

“i said can we go dance.” i say, my voice still a little raised. he understands, pulling back as he shakes his head slowly. “i was thinking we could chill in the garden, you know, where it’s a little quieter.”

“really?” i ask, not liking that idea as it is quite frankly - boring. i understand that he is only trying to keep me safe, but the irritation that begins to habituate in my stomach is hard to ignore, as i wish that he would let me do my own thing for a while. “why can’t we stay right here? this is fun.”

my expression clearly shows how i feel about him trying to take me some place quieter, my lips pushed outwards, eyebrows furrowed a little. but this doesn’t change his mind as he lets out a small sigh, resting his hands on my shoulders as he gets closer, pecking my lips before speaking against them.

“it’ll be a lot quieter out there. we’ll come back inside once things have calmed down, yeah?” he shouts over the music, yet still manages to keep his tone gentle and kind, making it hard to decline in fear of looking like an asshole when he is willing to reason with me and, whilst his protectiveness may be annoying, the intent behind it is adorable, my heart swelling as i find myself swooning over how much he cares.

i hesitantly nod my head, a small smile spreading across his face as he takes my hand, telling me to ‘stay close’. his fingers intertwine with mine, his free hand wrapping around my shoulder as he leads me once again through the crowd of people, his hold on me growing stronger as he keeps looking downwards at me, checking that i am okay.

with tom’s hands either on my shoulder or enlaced with mine, my whole body freezes in shock when i feel another slap my ass, never feeling tom move his own - meaning that he didn’t touch me, somebody else did. i turn around, seeing a strange pair of green eyes burning into me, a proud smirk on the boy’s face.

tom notices that i have stopped, turning around in confusion, seeing my face etched in anger as i try to release myself from his hold, walking over to the stranger, completely infuriated.

“baby? where are you going, wait!” tom pushes through a few people, trying to catch up to me, stopping eventually once he reaches me, seeing my finger digging into the guy’s chest, jaw clenched as i yell out words of frustration.

“how fucking dare you touch me! you’re so fucking disgusting you know that-”

“hey, hey, schatz, what’s going on?” tom places his hand on my shoulder, pulling me away from the guy as his eyes flick between me and him, trying to make sense of the situation.

“what’s going on is this dick touched my ass.”

as soon as those words fall from my lips, tom’s face drops, eyes darkening as he takes the guys shirt, bunching it up in his now clenched fist, pulling it so that their faces were inches apart.

“that true, hm?” his chest is heaving up and down, anger seething through his entire being. i have never seen him this mad before, this side of him totally new to me. “i fucking said is that true?”

he is shouting now, his voice easily distinguishable over the loud music, catching the attention of a few people nearby, most too occupied with getting completely shitfaced to even care what was going on.

“i’m talking to you, did you touch my fucking girlfriend?” tom tugs on the guy’s shirt, bringing him even closer as he struggles to speak, only able to stutter, tom completely towering over him.

tom lets go, pushing him back harshly, his anger only increasing. “what are you fucking deaf? i swear to god you’re lucky she’s here.” tom pauses, turning around and signalling to me, quickly refocusing his attention on the guy, who now stands with his back against the wall, tom trapping him. “cause if she wasn’t, you wouldn’t be walking out of here, but she doesn’t need to see that. now listen to me, you ever go near my girlfriend again and i won’t let you off so easily, fucking cunt.”

tom lands a small punch on his cheek enough to make the guy stumble backwards, wiggling his fingers around as the guy quickly walks away, clearly not in any position to test tom. once he is out of sight, tom pushes through the crowd, quickly pulling me into a hug, gently swaying us side to side as his hand runs through my hair, lips planting a gentle kiss in it.

he says nothing, but pulls away, bringing me into his side closer than he ever had before, my body. flush against his as his hand wraps securely around my waist. he is pissed, not at me, and i can tell that the whole situation has only made him more protective.

he takes me out into the garden which, though still a little busy, is peaceful compared to inside the house. the pool is quiet, a few drunken bodies splashing around in there, whilst others stand around, their hands decorated with half empty glasses. tom points to an empty bench, sitting down on it as i move beside him, his arm wrapping around my shoulder as he pulls me into him, his free hand intertwining our fingers together, my head against his chest as it moves up and down, his heart still beating at a fast rate.

“are you okay?” he asks, his thumb rubbing small circles around my shoulder. “i’m sorry i wasn’t looking, it was my fault baby. i can’t believe i let that happen to you- fuck.”

i shake my head, looking upwards to meet his gaze, tom already looking at me with heavy eyes filled with guilt.

“how was it your fault? you’ve looked after me the whole night. i was right behind you tom, don’t blame yourself.” i speak slowly, wrapping both arms around his torso and snuggling further into him.

“i should’ve been watching you though.” he says, finding any way to blame himself for what had happened, despite him dedicating every second to make sure i was safe.

“baby you can’t have eyes in the back of your head.” i smile, a small laugh escaping from my lips. “you looked away for a few seconds. it was no one’s fault but the asshole who touched me.”

he nods tentatively, kissing my hair gently, playing with my fingers absentmindedly as we both watch the scene in front of us, more and more people pouring outside from the house, the majority of them completely wasted.

“can we go dance now?” i plead, wanting to enjoy the night whilst i still could.

he lets out a laugh, squeezing my hand before speaking. “you really think that’s a good idea? you sure you don’t want to just stay out here? it’s a lot calmer, and don’t have to worry about you as much, ‘cause i have you right here.”

“or…” he begins, using his pointer finger, placing it under my chin as he moves it so that our faces are inches apart. he connects our lips, the kiss sloppy yet short. “we could go home, and i can show you how pretty i think you look tonight.”

he kisses my lips once again, smiling boldly against them as his thumb holds my chin in place, arm wrapping around me to bring me closer.

“you know how beautiful you look in this dress...” he mumbles against my lips, his hands running over the soft material, a cocky smirk etched upon his face as he swallows before continuing. “but, if i’m honest schatz, i think you look better without it on.”

my cheeks heat up at his words as he is totally aware of the effect that they have on me. he rejoins our lips as my hands wrap around the back of his neck, pulling him into me as the sound of music soon fades from my senses, only able to focus on him and the growing need from within me. he pulls back, his lips still brushing against mine, his eyes, now filled with lust, dark and half-lidded as they carry every want and need that he is keeping quiet, knowing that they won’t be left unsaid for much longer.

“let’s get out of here, mhm?”

requests are open! keep sending them in!!

[hannieehaee]

Svt & learning to cook food from s/o’s homecountry (aka not korean food). A different culture & food for each member would rlly cool

making you a meal from your country

content: established relationship, fluff, foreign reader (non-korean), etc.

wc: 872

a/n: this was such a cute concept omg!! i picked the food items and the home countries at random btw sorry if i got some dishes wrong pls lmk if there's any corrections i should make 😭

masterlist

seungcheol -

he wouldn't be able to stand your homesickness for even one second, feeling too sad at your sadness and deciding to do everything in his power to make you feel better. he'd ask around for traditional south african dishes leading him to make you some chakalaka while you were at work. the hours of trial and error wouldve been worth it the moment he saw the happiness in your eyes at his efforts.

jeonghan -

being quite used to simply ordering takeout whenever he so pleased, jeonghan was not used to cooking at home too often. however, if his sweet s/o wanted some homemade tom yum soup, then he'd deliver! after a quick call to mingyu (and an hour or two of messing around in the kitchen), he'd be ready with your food. he loves thai food, so this would be a win-win situation for him.

joshua -

he knew you sometimes missed australia and were unable to go back and forth as you pleased, so josh would occasionally indulge you in making meat pie for you, following a recipe you'd once made for him early in your relationship.

jun -

he'd had indian food before and loved it, so it did not take any convincing for him to decide to make you some indian street food. he'd do it out of his own volition pretty often, actually. by now, he had mastered the art of various dishes, specially panipuri, which he would frequently make for you, and sometimes he'd even share some with his members.

soonyoung -

if he sensed you growing homesick and missing your usual chinese cuisine, he'd go out of his way to seek out jun or minghao to ask what food may make you feel a bit better. he'd then take on the task of making you the most delicious street breakfast, jianbing, knowing it wasnt too difficult a task for him and that it was a meal you'd often have in your youth.

wonwoo -

wonwoo was quite known for his lack of ability in the kitchen, but that would not stop him from making you some laksa whenever you were feeling particularly homesick. despite not knowing how to make any other singaporean dishes, he'd have specifically mastered at least one in order to take care of you in such a domestic way whenever the opportunity arose.

jihoon -

never having been one to cook much (he'd much rather stick to washing dishes), he'd struggle a lot through making you some pastéis de nata for your anniversary, deciding to make a korean-portuguese fusion of meals to celebrate your relationship. ok, maybe he called mingyu over to help, but the joy in your eyes as you shared the meal with him had made it worth all of mingyu's nagging as he followed his instructions to the letter.

seokmin -

he's never been to spain, but he's had a few spanish meals throughout his life, so he'd quickly understand why you'd often complain about the lack of authentic spanish food near your shared apartment. would take it upon himself to learn how to make paella in the most perfect manner imaginable just to see a smile on your face.

mingyu -

making a pizza from scratch was easier said than done, but mingyu had taken on the task the moment you let him know of the fomo you felt at seeing him and his best friends explore your country of origin, italy. you'd watched nana tour happily, but still felt a bit off at knowing you couldn't be there with your boyfriend. but fear not! mingyu was about to bring the authentic italian experience to your door!

minghao -

he's been to the united states so many times by now that he just knows american food by heart. wouldnt even need a recipe to know how to make you some classic barbecue on a sunny afternoon. would even make an entire day out of it, grilling under the sun while you sunbathed next to him.

seungkwan -

seungkwan has always thought himself to be quite a good cook. or at least he was quite good at making korean food. japanese food was another story. he knew how badly you missed homemade sushi, never enjoying any from your nearby restaurants. he'd have to ask for your help at some point, but the end result would be the two of you sharing a nice moment making a meal together, so it all went according to plan.

vernon -

he doesnt know how to cook neither korean nor american food, but you best bet he'll try his hardest to make you traditional vietnamese food in the form of bun cha and bánh xèo. it looked easy and like it tasted good, how hard could it be? would try his bestest but eventually need to ask you for help completing the task. a+ for effort, though.

chan -

he already loves mexican food, so making it for you wouldnt even be something you'd have to request from him – he'd just do it on his own! he'd already mastered all types of street food, eventually opting to make you menudo, knowing how much you enjoyed that meal as a child.

[tomriddleslove]

Forgotten once again.

✩Tom Riddle x Reader

Summary: The one where Tom isn’t capable of love, but you thought you could change that. Alternatively: Possesiveness and Love become the same thing.

A/N: I really enjoyed writing this one because Tom’s character is sm fun to write. It’s interesting because despite my delusions I couldn’t ever imagine him being capable of loving someone, and if he did it would be like this. Also this is probably the last time i’ll post for the next three weeks!

Warnings: Toxic Relationships, mentions of manipulation, violence (towards others). Generally about a very toxic and unhealthy relationship so please do not read if you’re triggered by anything to do with this! My inbox is always open if you ever need someone to talk to 🫶🏼.

Songs: Leaving Tonight - The Neighbourhood

Spectre - Radiohead

Tom Riddle was many things.

For one, he was ambitious. He would achieve whatever he so desired. If he had the means to do it, it would be done immediately. If he did not, well...

He would find the means to do so. Because Tom Riddle achieved whatever he so desired.

He was also charismatic.

Tom had a natural charisma that drew people to him. Whether through his charm, intelligence, or a combination of both, he had a magnetic presence that captivated those around him. This charisma played a significant role in his ability to influence and manipulate others to further his ambitions.

Tom Riddle was brilliant. Gifted with a sharp mind and a keen understanding of magic, he excelled in his studies. His intelligence, coupled with his ambition, allowed him to delve into dark magic and ancient mysteries, seeking knowledge and power that others might shy away from.

Tom Riddle was many things, but there was only one thing he lacked.

Perhaps it was karma, some form of divine intervention, his hamartia, that it was this very thing that would be his downfall in the years to come.

Tom was many things, but loving was not one of them.

Tom Riddle was not loving. No - he was not capable of love.

Tom Riddle, was incapable of experiencing genuine love due to being conceived under the influence of a love potion, not true love. The circumstances of Tom’s conception were marked by coercion and manipulation, as his mother, Merope Gaunt, used a love potion to attract and bind Tom Riddle Sr. to her. It was artificial and devoid of true affection. This was a concrete and inexplicably tragic detail that meant Tom Riddle simply was not physically capable of reciprocating love.

Key word, reciprocating. For, it was very much possible for someone to fall in love with Tom. A cruel thing it would be, for one cannot simply love Lucifer himself and expect to be loved in return. Tom Riddle's incapacity for reciprocating love stemmed from a profound emotional void rather than an inability to elicit affection from others.

This fact was a cruel truth that you only chose to accept once it was too late. One does not simply get involved with Tom Riddle, and come out unscathed.

Tom never cared for love, really. To him, it was just some sort of transaction or tool, something to be manipulated for his own benefit. Love, in Tom Riddle's eyes, was a means to an end rather than an intrinsic value. It was a sentiment that he observed in others but never truly felt himself.

Love, however, seemed to be the most raw, human thing in existence. It was everything we hated, yet also everything we loved. It unravelled our deepest insecurities, it brought things to the surface that we had long pushed to the side. It required us to lay ourselves, bare, for the other to see. Love made us tolerate the very worst of things, love made us hate the very best of things.

Many things can be complementary in life. Love was not one of them. It was overpowering, consuming. It changed who you were.

Love was the beginning of life and the end of it. Love was part of being human.

Tom lacking this fundamentally crucial aspect of the human experience may have been the very thing that led him to despise his humanity.

When Tom had met you, it was slightly different. A puzzle piece that didn't quite fit but intrigued him nonetheless.

You were undeniably talented, a mind that had its worth. You had this air of arrogance, and whilst Tom hated unbacked arrogance, you had the means to justify it. You were self-assured, and he found it to be somewhat refreshing compared to the other people he knew (who unashamedly sucked up to him.) You didn’t fall for his tricks immediately, which made him all the more agitated, and intrigued. Rather, you seemed to enjoy being with Tom most when he’d drop the ‘perfect and polite’ facade he had. You valued honesty and bluntness, two things Tom did not do (After all, how would he gain the trust of others if he truthfully told them he planned on using every single one of them?)

However, the more time he spent with you, the more he found that he fed into what you liked. And somehow, to his dismay, he found some sort of sick satisfaction in it. He enjoyed seeing you actively seek out his presence, and as much as it went against what Tom believed, he liked the validation of having people want to be associated with him. It was a testament to how he longed to be known, to be admired. He observed, learned, and dissected your intricacies, seeing you not as an individual but as a canvas upon which he could project his desires.

He soon grew very used to you, and he didn't absolutely loathe you. As the days unfolded into months, and the months unfolded into years, a semblance of tolerance took root. He played the part, masking his true intentions beneath a veneer of charm. Tolerance morphed into a twisted form of acknowledgement — an acknowledgement that you held a role in his future ambitions, his ultimate goal.

After all, that's all he ever did anything for, right? His goals, His desires. His needs.

The evolution was subtle but insidious. What began as a detached fascination transformed into a possessive need. Tom, driven by an insatiable hunger for control, found satisfaction in manipulating the threads of your existence. Obsession seeped into every crevice of his thoughts. Your every action became a challenge to him, something for him to understand, something he wanted to have control over. His infatuation stemmed from a desire to have control, to claim your very being, to possess you like some sort of artefact in his prized possessions.

Whilst you may have been immune to Tom’s charm when you first met, you certainly weren't without your weakness. After all, Tom always got what he wanted, and if he didn't have the means to do so, he'd find it.

He became fluent in his ways of understanding you, observing every little thing you did. He dissected the very core of your being till he was sure there was nothing he wouldn't know. Casual conversations about schoolwork in the depths of the library turned to confessions about your life as the hours passed. Tom preyed on your vulnerability, sowing seeds of doubt into your mind.

He agreed with you when you expressed your frustrations at your friends, he encouraged your rash actions. He told you what you wanted to hear, and made it seem as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

As everything he did, each word he spoke was carefully calculated, a thread sewn in the fabric of your fucked up relationship, binding him inexplicably closer to you without even realising.

He pointed out things, seemingly from a place of concern, making you distance yourself from your friends. He highlighted instances where your friends might have let you down, carefully framing himself as the only steadfast pillar in your life. Tom was everything you could have needed; he understood you, and he made you feel seen.

He was selective about what he let you know. He let you know he had grown up in a children’s home, and that his mother had died. Trust was a two-way thing, and you were smart enough to detect when it wasn’t being reciprocated. He let you see what he wanted to see, for no human was perfect, and he needed you to see he had his imperfections if he wanted you to trust him.

He needed to make it seem as though you made him feel seen too.

Tom had been sitting in your room, working with you on a transfiguration assignment you both had been set. Cross-legged on your bed, he still remembers how you had sat down next to him, visibly frustrated.

Tom, ever attuned to you, asked whether you were ok because that's what someone who cared for you did. He didn't care greatly though, not in a selfless way. Rather, he needed you to know that he was the only person who knew you, the only person you needed.

You opened up about what had happened, explaining how your friends had betrayed your trust, and how they seemed to misunderstand you, leaving you feeling isolated and vulnerable. Tom, feigning empathy with expert precision, listened intently, absorbing every detail like a sponge. You began crying because it all became too much.

You never thought Tom would comfort you. You believed he'd perhaps pat your back, or assure you it was all fine. What you didn't expect, was for Tom to draw you in, to wrap his arms around you, and pull you into his chest. You didn't expect him to soothe you, and rub your back as he uttered words of comfort into your ear, seemingly shielding you from the emotions that had been weighing you down.

You didn't expect to feel safe, to feel protected. If only you knew the only thing you needed protection from, was Tom himself.

You felt special. You knew it was not in Tom's nature to do so. You had no idea how vile of a person he truly was, but you understood he was avoidant of sentiment or affection. For him to have been so tender, made you feel loved.

It was only ever bound to go downhill from there.

It was only natural that you had fallen in love with him. From there it all somewhat became a blur. In between the lines, the illusion of love was beginning to waver. Graduating from Hogwarts, you no longer held those ambitions you once had. Your plans seemed now to be a distant memory, a past life. You had Tom, and that was all that mattered.

Tom had gotten his job at Borgin and Burkes. You moved in with him. You ignored the pleas of concern from those who were near and dear to you, who Tom hadn’t managed to isolate you from.

Tom convinced you that they did not have your best interest in mind, that they didn’t like him because he was a poor orphan, working a salesperson job. He had earlier convinced you he had his insecurities about his past, and he used that to make you believe the people around you were prejudiced, that they didn't care for your happiness but rather their status being affected by who they associated with. No one would want to be acquainted with the girl who loved the charity case.

You believed him. You couldn't fathom why they didn’t like Tom. You shut them out.

It was rather terrifying seeing how quickly Tom could snuff out your fiery flame, and reduce you down to someone who became dependent on him. You rarely left the house, your life revolved around what Tom wanted, and how Tom felt.

He left you teetering on the precipe of unhappiness, fulfilling your needs to the point where you couldn’t complain for fear of seeming ungrateful, unloving.

He would neglect you, coming back from work to lock himself in your bedroom, pouring over books and writings. He wasn’t who he used to be, caring, affectionate, loving.

Shame on you for assuming you could make Tom capable of love.

His neglect pierced your soul, and when you mustered the courage to voice your needs, he snapped at you for bothering him. Tom's transformation into an emotionally distant stranger left you in a state of perpetual uncertainty.

At times, you resolved to leave him, but Tom had a knack for sensing your unrest. As though he could read your mind, he returned with offerings and apologies, painting himself as the troubled victim and casting you as the ungrateful perpetrator. Guilt became the shackle that bound you, and his apologies only deepened the wounds.

Tom, in those fleeting moments of remorse, would momentarily embody the man you had fallen in love with. You cooked dinner together. He’ d play with your hair as you read, and he fucked you as if he truly did love you. Yet, the morning after, the bed would be empty, and the reality of your entangled existence with Tom would once again sink in.

He began leaving for work earlier and coming back later. You began to doubt whether it was because of work, the day he came back reeking of dark magic.

You were undeniably clever, after all, that was what had sparked Tom’s obsession with you in the first place, and so it didn’t take long for you to connect the dots. Tom’s friends back in Hogwarts seemed more like devotees than anything else. This, coupled with him spending countless hours reading through books he wouldn't let you see, and his sudden late hours suggested to you he was dappling in dark things.

You weren't wrong, per se, but Tom was far beyond dappling in dark things. He had become the image of corruption itself.

The cycle persisted, a disheartening repetition of highs and lows that left you questioning your worth and the authenticity of the connection you had with Tom. His intermittent displays of affection, punctuated by periods of neglect and manipulation, became the norm. The more you yearned for stability, the deeper you sank into the quicksand of your toxic relationship.

You couldn't pinpoint exactly where neglect turned into heated words. Arguments turning more and more intense. Slammed doors became broken porcelain, yet the remorseful embraces remained the same.

The outside world, once filled with friends and dreams, now seemed like a distant echo. Tom had successfully eroded the foundations of your past life, isolating you from the support systems that could have provided a lifeline. His poisonous whispers had convinced you that only he truly cared for you, painting the rest of the world as indifferent or antagonistic.

The empty mornings and hollow apologies continued, and you slowly began to realise the love you once believed in had become a warped caricature, and the person you had fallen for had let his obsession manifest into your relationship, seeping through the feeble foundations.

The crisp air of Hogsmeade offered a welcome escape from the suffocating atmosphere of the shared home with Tom. As you strolled through the quaint village, a familiar face caught your eye – Elizabeth, your closest friend from Hogwarts. A twinge of nostalgia mixed with apprehension as you approached her.

"Hey, Elizabeth," you greeted, attempting a smile.

Her response was guarded, her eyes revealing a mixture of concern and wariness. "Hello. Long time no see."

You sensed a tension in the air as you tried to engage in small talk, but Elizabeth's words soon cut through the facade. "Look, What happened? You dropped off the face of the earth, and it's like you vanished after graduation. In our last year, you completely ignored all of us."

A knot tightened in your stomach as you fumbled for an explanation. "I... things have been complicated. I've been busy."

Elizabeth's expression softened, and she sighed. "Busy? More like completely consumed. We all missed you, you know? But you acted like we don't even exist. What happened to the person we used to know?"

You frown, crossing your arms. “Missed me? I only stopped talking to you because you all acted weird around me.” You respond, defensively.

“No, we didn't. You got angry at us when we told you we were worried for you. You rarely went out with us, you were always too busy elsewhere.” She corrected, and you felt a frustration bubble within you.

“No, it didn’t really seem like that. You all isolated me and the only person I had left was Tom. It was only natural that I wouldn't want to go back to being friends with you after that.” You snap.

Elizabeth's eyes widened, sympathy replacing her earlier frustration. "Tom? Are you serious? He's the one who isolated you, not us. We've been worried sick about you. You're not the same person anymore."

Who did she think she was? She knew nothing about the two of you, let alone what your relationship was like. Tom was right, these people had it out for you. They didn't care for you, not at all.

“You don't know what our relationship is like Elizabeth, so I suggest you stop making assumptions.” You hiss, glaring at her.

"We cared, but you pushed us away," Elizabeth explained gently. "You were so wrapped up in whatever was going on with Tom that you stopped caring about anyone else. It's not healthy, and we were genuinely concerned."

Elizabeth reached out to comfort you. "Listen, I know it's tough, but you need to reevaluate your situation. Staying with Tom isn't healthy, and you're not alone. My door is always open if you need somewhere to stay or someone to talk to.” She says, fumbling around in her pockets. She pulls out a receipt and hastily scribbles down an address, thrusting it into your hand. She gives you one last look of pity, and you feel enraged. You immediately apparate back home, you didn't have time for this foolishness.

You apparate back home, the confrontation with Elizabeth leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. The hastily scribbled address clutched in your hand feels like an unwanted invitation, an intrusion into the carefully constructed reality that Tom has woven around you.

As you step into the shared home, the atmosphere is unsettling. Tom is hunched over a dark tome, his eyes flickering up to meet yours as you enter.

"Where have you been?" he questions, the softness of his tone belying the underlying intensity.

You toss your coat aside, frustration boiling beneath the surface. "Out. I needed a break from all this," you retort, the words laced with the anger that has been building up.

A dangerous glint enters Tom's eyes, his composure slipping. "A break? Is that how you see it? Is it a burden to you?"

"Yes, Tom! I don’t know what’s gone wrong? One day you’re fin and the next you’re acting as though i’m a nuisance to your being," you snap, the resentment in your voice cutting through the room.

His posture stiffens, and a quiet threat laces his words. "Oh really?"

Your anger flares, a defiant fire pushing back against his dominance. "Guess who I saw today, hmm?" You seethe, venom lingering in your tone.

A momentary confusion flickers in Tom's eyes. "Who?" he questions, wondering how this could be relevant to the conversation.

"Elizabeth," you declare, watching his reaction closely.

Tom's expression darkens, and a cold tension settles in the room. "What does she have to do with anything?" He retorts, stepping closer to you.

"She told me a few things, Tom. About how I've distanced myself from everyone, how they were worried, and you know what struck me?" you press on, your anger finding a new target.

His eyes narrow, a hint of defensiveness in his tone. "What?"

"That I believed it was my friends who had abandoned me, but in reality, it's been you isolating me all along," you accuse, the realization fueling your rage. You jab your finger into his chest as you speak.

Tom's composure wavers, but he quickly recovers. "I've been protecting you. You can't trust them. They're trying to pull you away from me."

"Stop. Stop it, Tom. Have the decency to acknowledge I'm not that fucking stupid. I know what you're trying to do,” You say, voice cracking. You resist the urge to shield your ears, his words burrowing their way into you as he attempts to trivialise your worries, making you out to be the irrational one.

Tom frowns, and the sight of you beginning to doubt him had bile riding in the back of his throat. H reaches out, hands holding onto your shoulders as he urges you to look at him.

“They’re lying to you. They’re trying to pull you away from me again! Can't you see this? Why do you believe them over me?” He says, voice pleading with you in fake desperation, the lengths he was willing to go to to ensure he could continue to possess you were unthinkable.

“Enough. Im fucking done. You’re so fucked up, Tom. You never loved me, did you? You only ever wanted to own me, to control me. Tell me, was it worth it? Was it ever fucking worth it, spending 5 years of your life weaving this tapestry of bullshit just so you could keep me locked up in here?” You snap, grabbing your coat.

Tom's pleading expression transforms into a cold mask, and a sinister calm settles over him. "You think you can just leave? You're mine, and you'll stay. I won't let you go." He utters.

The realization of his true nature, the toxicity of the relationship, fuels your determination. "Watch me,” You hiss.

As you move toward the door, his grip on control slips further, and an unsettling mix of rage and desperation flashes in his eyes. "You'll regret this. You'll come crawling back. You always come back." He says. You take a single look at him before slamming the door and walking off.

One cannot simply dance with the devil, and change him. He always changes you.

Tom Riddle was far beyond the devil.

You wondered if for once in your life God had been on your side when you had that chance encounter with Elizabeth. Despite your harsh words, she had accepted you into her home with open arms. The weight of the past five years settles heavily on your shoulders, and the enormity of what you've lost becomes painfully clear. You were young, so damn young, and you’d been living as a glorified prisoner, trapped by the very thing that was meant to liberate you.

But love was ugly, wasn't it? It made you tolerate the bad, it made you irrational. Love could bare its teeth into your neck, and you'd let it, for love was ugly.

It was ugly, but it was not macabre.

Tom knew where you were. Tom always did. It was already established that Tom always got what he wanted. He wanted you, and he found a way to ensure that.

At first, he did not bother you.

He believed you would come back to him, as you so often did. But when a week had passed and you had not reappeared as you always did, beautiful face flushed red, eyes glossy with tears as you wordlessly stepped in and fell back into normality, he began to worry.

If it came to any relief to you, which it might have, Tom believed he loved you. What you had was a far cry from love, an echo of what it should have been. But in the mind of he who cannot love, this is what he believed it to be. One could only wonder whether everything would have been different if he actually knew what love was. But he didn't, and he never would, so he was left with some sort of fucked up obsession that he believed was love.

Tom felt a gnawing emptiness that only intensified with your departure.

Again, he loved you, if one could call it love. It was a sick, twisted version of affection that demanded ownership. In his distorted reality, your existence became an extension of his own, a possession he couldn't bear to lose. The mere thought of you breaking free ignited a desperate panic within him.

He needed you like a drowning man gasping for air, clinging to the last vestiges of sanity.

Schopenhauer believed that the will, a blind and irrational force, dominated human behaviour. Love, according to Schopenhauer, was an expression of the will's desire.

Tom felt this indescribable gap in his life without you there, as though he simply wasn’t complete without you. The old him would have hated to admit it, but he needed you, and his need for you grew from a sickly infatuation to a desperate yearning. Love, in his distorted reality, meant ownership, and he was losing his grip.

It was a rather bleak evening, and you had a horrible feeling in your stomach as you sat on the sofa of Elizabeth’s living room, where you had been presiding for the past week.

How cruel it was, that you and Tom were so attuned to one another.

You somehow knew it was Tom without needing to see them.

As Tom had resonated with the words of Schopenhauer, you had resonated with the words of Plato. For you, love could not be controlled. Instead, it was a divine madness that took hold of individuals, transcending rational thought and choice.

You had often thought that was a beautiful thing. However, when it was love that was causing your demise, it no longer felt beautiful.

Elizabeth comes down the stairs and raises a brow when she sees you perched on the edge of the sofa, staring blankly off into the distance. She eyes you apprehensively as she opens the door.

That voice. It simultaneously sent dread coursing through you, and butterflies erupting in your stomach.

“Come back now. It's been far too long.” Tom says, his voice oh so tempting.

“Seriously? You think you can get her back with that bullshit?” Elizabeth snaps, standing at the door.

Tom, however, remains fixated on you, as if Elizabeth's words were mere background noise. Ignoring her comments, he continues, his eyes piercing into your conflicted gaze.

"Stop this. Come back. It's where you belong," he urges, the words carrying a persuasive weight that had once held you captive.

Elizabeth's frustration peaked as she turned to face you, pleading in her eyes. "Don't listen to him. He's toxic, and you don't need that in your life. You deserve so much more."

Tom's eyes bore into yours, his tone silky but insistent. "You don't belong in our business, Elizabeth. You’re as meddlesome as you were in school. She knows where she belongs."

You remain silent.

"He's killing you. Can't you see that?" Elizabeth's voice held a mixture of concern and frustration.

But Tom's voice slithered through the air once more, persuasive and relentless. "Come to me.” His words echoed a twisted sense of possessiveness, yet held such allure, spoken tenderly, enough to convince you it would be fine.

You clench your fists, nails digging into your skin. You stand up, letting out a shuddery breath. You walk towards the door.

“Fuck, stop! You don't need to go! Don't act like you have nowhere to go! I've given you my home, I’ve let you stay. Stop going back!” Elizabeth says, frustration laced in her voice.

How easy it is to claim you simply need to just “stop”, and it would all be fine.

It was never that simple. Tom's presence was poison, yet it was also the air you breathed. You had only known Tom for what felt like aeons, and you had shut everyone who questioned you out. All you had was Tom, all you ever would have is Tom.

He was home, a twisted kind that keeps you warm while slowly suffocating the life out of you.

As you walked back into his outstretched arms, a sense of numb acceptance settled over you. The outside world ceased to matter; the only reality was the one with Tom.

It wasn't love as the poets wrote or the philosophers pondered. Yet, in its ugliness, it was the only reality you knew.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, wrapping his arms around. Like a serpent, his embrace constricts around you, possessive and suffocating. You lean into him, feeling the coldness of his touch seep into your skin. It's oddly warming though, as paradoxical as it seemed.

"Where else would you go, my love?" he whispers, the sweetness of the endearment masking the toxicity beneath.

The serpent and its prey, bound in a perverse waltz of dependence and decay, disappear into the shadows, and the world outside is forgotten once again.

[gvnvks]

// zb1 being (kinda overly) protective of you.

> pairings: non-idol!zb1 x fem!reader

> warnings: zb1 being overprotective, pet names, lowercase intended, not proofread

> song recommendation: middle of my mind by tom rosenthal

> a/n: im back yall who missed me !!! also pls don’t let this flop as much as my previous post did …. that was embarrassing 😐

// 김 jiwoong.

jiwoong and you walked hand in hand along the cobblestone path, the rhythmic crunch of gravel under your feet creating a serene symphony. the air was cool and crisp, carrying the scent of blooming flowers and freshly cut grass.

as you strolled hand in hand, the warmth of jiwoongs touch filled you with a sense of security and love. his dark eyes, filled with adoration, glanced at you every few moments, ensuring your comfort and well-being. the suns golden rays danced on his face, highlighting the contours of his smile, and you couldn't help but be captivated by his presence.

the conversation flowed effortlessly, a symphony of laughter and shared anecdotes. your boyfriends voice resonated like a soothing melody, and his words were a balm to your soul. each sentence he uttered was laced with affection, and every syllable carried an undertone of concern, for he had always been one to prioritize your happiness above all else.

as you approached a particularly narrow and rocky path, jiwoongs protective nature became more evident. his steps slowed, his grip on your hand tightened ever so slightly, and he insisted on leading the way. “be careful, love,” he murmured, his voice laced with a touch of worry. “watch your step, the rocks can be slippery.”

you chuckled softly, grateful for his concern but feeling confident in your own abilities. “ill be fine, jiwoong," you reassured him, your voice filled with warmth. “im not as delicate as you think.”

he grinned, a mixture of pride and playfulness dancing in his eyes. “oh, i know you're strong and capable,” he replied, his tone teasing. “but youre my everything, and i cant help but want to protect you from even the smallest of dangers.”

your heart swelled with affection, understanding the depth of his love for you. his overprotectiveness wasn't born out of doubt or a lack of trust; rather, it stemmed from a place of unyielding adoration. your boyfriend simply couldn't bear the thought of anything causing you harm, even if it was as minor as a misstep on a rocky path.

the path opened up to a breathtaking vista, where the lake stretched out before you like a vast expanse of liquid sapphire. the water glistened under the twilight sky, mirroring the stars that began to twinkle above. it was a sight that stole your breath away, leaving you momentarily spellbound.

jiwoongs arms wrapped around you from behind, pulling you closer as he whispered into your ear, his words carried by the gentle breeze. “isn't it beautiful?” he murmured, his voice filled with awe. “but remember, my love, don't get too close to the edge. i don't want anything to happen to you.”

you leaned back into his embrace, feeling his heartbeat against your back. ”i promise ill be careful,” you assured him, a smile playing on your lips. ”i wouldn't dream of doing anything that might worry you.”

he sighed, his grip on you tightening almost imperceptibly. ”i know, but you know how my mind works,” he replied, his voice tinged with a hint of sheepishness. ”i can't help but imagine the worst-case scenarios. its just who i am.”

you turned around in his arms, looking into his eyes with tender affection. ”and i love you for it,” you whispered, your words carrying the weight of your love. ”your overprotectiveness is part of what makes you so special to me.”

jiwoongs face softened, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “i don't deserve you,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. “but i promise, ill always be there to shield you from harm, even if it's just imaginary."

// 장 hao.

as you walked hand in hand into the café, the sound of your footsteps mingled with soft music playing in the background. haos eyes gleamed with adoration as he looked at you, his heart filled with love and concern. he held the door open for you, ensuring you entered safely.

”you okay, darling?” hao asked, a hint of worry in his voice. “the ground can be uneven sometimes.” you smiled at his unwavering attentiveness. “im fine, hao. you don't have to worry so much.”

he chuckled, his voice a melody that harmonized with the ambiance around you. “i can't help it, you know. i just want to make sure you're always safe and sound.”

taking a seat at a cozy table near the window, you marveled at the view outside. the city bustled with life, people going about their day, yet in this café, you felt cocooned in a world of tranquility. the scent of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the aroma of sweet pastries, and the soft murmur of conversations added a pleasant hum to the atmosphere.

a waiter approached, carrying a tray adorned with steaming cups of coffee. haos protective instincts kicked in, and he immediately reached out to touch your cup, testing the temperature cautiously. “just making sure it's not too hot for you, darling,” he said, his voice laced with tenderness.

you chuckled, touched by his thoughtfulness. “thank you. you're always looking out for me.” he smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “its my duty as your boyfriend. besides, i wouldn't want you burning your beautiful lips.”

as you sipped the warm, comforting beverage, your eyes met your boyfriends, and a silent understanding passed between you. it was in these small, seemingly mundane gestures that his love for you shone like a radiant sun, casting a protective light over your every step.

the café was a symphony of sights and sounds, a place where time seemed to slow down, allowing you to savor every moment. couples around you engaged in hushed conversations, their laughter mingling with the gentle clinking of cups and saucers. the walls were adorned with beautiful artwork, paintings that whispered stories of love and passion.

haos gaze never wavered from you, his eyes tracing the contours of your face, etching each moment into his memory. he leaned forward, his voice low and filled with affection. “are you comfortable, my love? shall i adjust your chair?”

you chuckled softly, touched by his concern. “hao, im perfectly fine. i couldn't ask for a more caring boyfriend.”

his smile widened, his love for you shining through his eyes. “i just want to make sure everything is perfect for you. you deserve nothing less.”

as the afternoon turned to evening, and the café grew dimmer, the atmosphere took on a romantic allure. the soft glow of candlelight bathed the room, casting a warm and intimate ambiance. your boyfriend reached across the table, his fingers gently intertwining with yours, creating an unbreakable bond between you.

“i love you, hao,” you whispered, your voice filled with tenderness and gratitude.

he squeezed your hand, his touch a reassurance of his love. “and i love you, more than words can express. i will always be here to protect and cherish you, my darling.”

// 성 hanbin.

hand in hand, you and hanbin strolled through an enchanting amusement park, its vibrant attractions calling to the child within each of you. laughter and joy mixed with the sweet scent of cotton candy, creating an atmosphere of pure delight.

as you approached the roller coaster, a towering behemoth with twisting tracks, you couldn't help but feel a tinge of excitement mixed with a hint of nervousness. “hey, hanbin, let's go on that roller coaster! it looks like so much fun!” you exclaimed, your eyes sparkling like stars.

hanbin glanced at the ride, then back at you, a subtle furrow forming on his forehead. “are you sure, sweetheart? it seems quite fast and intense.”

you grinned, feeling determined to take on the challenge. “absolutely! come on, it'll be so fun!”

he hesitated for a moment before relenting with a soft smile. “alright, but promise me you'll hold onto the safety bar tightly, and ill be right beside you the whole time.”

the roller coaster roared to life as you settled into the front seat. hanbins protective nature revealed itself as he carefully fastened your seatbelt and checked it twice. you giggled at his attentiveness, finding it endearing how much he cared for your safety.

as the ride started, and the roller coaster climbed higher, the view from the top was breathtaking. the scenery stretched out before you like a picturesque painting - the lush green trees, the shimmering pond, and the sparkling fountains all came together in a symphony of colors. “hanbin, look at this view! its incredible!" you exclaimed, your voice brimming with excitement.

but he couldn't take his eyes off you, concern etched in his expression even amidst the stunning backdrop. “yes, it is, but please hold on tight, okay?”

you chuckled, gently reassuring him, “don't worry, im in safe hands with you.”

as the coaster hurtled down the first drop, the wind whooshed past your face, and you couldn't help but let out a delighted scream. It was a whirlwind of adrenaline and emotions, and throughout the twists and turns, Hanbin kept a watchful eye on you, making sure you were comfortable and secure.

after the ride ended, you stepped off with wobbly legs but a heart full of joy. hanbin quickly wrapped his arm around your waist, guiding you away from the ride. “you did amazing! i knew you could do it,” he said with pride, planting a soft kiss on your forehead.

the day wore on, and you both explored the whimsical wonderland together, hopping from one attraction to another. with each ride, overprotective hanbin surfaced, whether it was holding your hand tightly on the carousel or making sure you were well-hydrated in the summer heat.

as the sun began to set, the sky turned into a canvas of pink and orange hues, casting a romantic glow over the park. the two of you found a cozy spot near a carousel, where you sat together on a wooden bench, taking a moment to rest.

“its been such a magical day, hanbin. thank you for being so caring and looking out for me,” you said, leaning your head on his shoulder. he smiled affectionately, his eyes warm like the setting sun. “you're my world, and ill always do my best to keep you safe and happy.”

your heart fluttered, and you couldn't resist teasing him a bit. “even if it means not letting me ride some of the more intense attractions?”

he chuckled softly, his laughter echoing in the fading daylight. “well, maybe i can loosen the reins a little, but only if you promise to always hold onto my hand tightly.”

you nodded, knowing that in hanbins embrace, you would always feel protected. as the stars began to twinkle overhead, you both sat there, basking in the magic of the amusement park and the love that enveloped you like a gentle breeze.

// 석 matthew

the exterior of the hotel you and matthew had stayed at, boasted intricate architecture, adorned with climbing ivy and blossoming roses, its entrance welcoming visitors with ornate wooden doors that whispered stories of centuries past. once inside, the grandeur of the hotels interior took your breath away. crystal chandeliers sparkled from above, casting a warm glow upon the polished marble floors. plush carpets led the way to rooms adorned with antique furnishings, adding an air of timelessness to the ambiance.

as you made your way to your room, hand in hand, matthews gentle voice chimed in, “are you feeling alright, love? you look a bit tired.”

you smiled at his concern, “im perfectly fine, just a little travel-weary. but being here with you makes everything better.” his eyes softened, “well, i want to make sure you have the best time. let me take care of everything.”

inside your charming room, the walls were painted in hues of lavender and cream, the scent of fresh flowers wafting through the air. the ornate curtains billowed gently as a soft breeze danced in from the open balcony, revealing a breathtaking view of the moon-kissed hills.

your boyfriend seemed to take a moment to ensure everything was in order before he spoke, “the balcony is lovely, but promise me you won't stay out there for too long. the evening air can be chilly, and i wouldn't want you catching a cold.”

you chuckled, touched by his protective nature, “i promise, i won't stay out for too long.”

with a satisfied nod, matthew ushered you to the sumptuous bed adorned with silken sheets and plush pillows. “rest for a while, my love. ill call the front desk to make sure everything is perfect.”

as you settled down, matthew spoke into the telephone, his voice gentle yet assertive, ensuring the hotel staff addressed your every need. you couldn't help but feel touched by his dedication to making your stay exceptional. once he hung up, he sat by your side, gently stroking your hair, “you know, i can't stop worrying about you. you mean the world to me, and i just want to keep you safe.”

your heart melted, feeling the depth of his love in those words, “i know, matthew, and i appreciate it more than i can express. but im here with you, and that's all i need to feel safe and happy.”

the evening unfolded with the two of you exploring the charming town hand in hand, visiting local cafes, and indulging in sweet treats. your boyfriends watchful eye remained, making sure you didn't miss any step on the street stairs or protecting you from the slightest drizzle that threatened to dampen your spirits.

as the night deepened, you returned to the hotel, its facade now glowing with golden lights, and the stars above sprinkled like diamonds on a velvet canvas. inside, you found yourselves in a cozy corner of the hotel's restaurant, sharing laughter, love, and delicious food.

over a candlelit dinner, you teased, “you know, i think you'd make an excellent guardian angel. always watching out for me.”

matthew, his eyes shimmering with warmth, “maybe i was in a past life. but in this one, im just a man who cherishes you more than anything.”

as the night wore on, you returned to your room, your hearts full of love and contentment. matthew tenderly wrapped his arms around you, whispering in your ear, “sweet dreams, my love.”

withh a kiss on your forehead, he settled beside you, his presence like a warm embrace, and together, you drifted into a blissful slumber, safe in the knowledge that love had brought you to this magical place, where the world seemed to revolve solely around the two of you.

// 김 taerae.

yours and taeraes kitchen was a charming amalgamation of rustic charm and modern convenience. the scent of freshly cut herbs and simmering spices wafted through the air, mingling harmoniously with the laughter and whispers shared between you and him. with aprons adorned and utensils in hand, you stood side by side, ready to embark on a culinary adventure together.

taeraes eyes sparkled like stars as he gazed at you, his beloved. “are you sure youre okay handling that knife, sweetheart?” he asked, concern evident in his voice.

you grinned, playfully winking at him. “oh, come on, taerae! ive chopped vegetables a thousand times before. ive got this!”

your boyfriend nodded hesitantly, a small frown dancing across his forehead. he couldn't help but be captivated by your confident spirit, yet a hint of protectiveness lingered within him. “alright, just be careful, my precious one. i wouldn't bear to see a single scratch on your delicate fingers.”

your heart fluttered at his endearing words, and you chuckled softly. “i promise, ill be extra careful.” with a swift motion, you deftly chopped the vegetables, relishing the musical sound of the knife rhythmically meeting the cutting board.

as the culinary symphony progressed, taerae remained ever-vigilant, subtly ensuring your safety. when you reached for a heavy pot on the top shelf, he gently intercepted your hand. “allow me, honey. i wouldn't want you to strain yourself.”

his tender touch sent shivers of warmth through your being, and you willingly let him assist, though not without a playful eye-roll and a teasing remark. “you know, taerae, im not made of glass. i can handle a pot.”

he laughed, placing the pot gently on the stove. “i know, but its my duty to look after you, isnt it?”

with an affectionate smile, you agreed, recognizing the depth of his love and how it manifested in this unintentional overprotectiveness. it was endearing, reassuring, and a constant reminder of how cherished you were in his heart.

the cooking continued, and the kitchen turned into an artistic battlefield of spices and flavors. your culinary skills were undeniable, and your boyfriend admired your prowess with each passing moment. nevertheless, whenever the stove emitted a slight hiss, he was instantly by your side, ready to tame the flames.

“ive got this, taerae,” you insisted, gently nudging him away from the stove. he smirked, feigning reluctance. “alright, but im just a heartbeat away if you need me.”

in the midst of this kitchen dance, the forest outside embraced the cottage with a sense of wonder. fireflies started to light up the darkening landscape, creating an enchanting spectacle that only added to the magic of the evening.

as the aroma of your culinary masterpiece filled the air, you and taerae set the table together, hand in hand. the meal was a reflection of your love - a fusion of flavors and textures that complemented each other, just as you did.

with candles flickering and soft music playing in the background, you sat down to savor the fruit of your labor. taeraes eyes never left you, a soft smile curving his lips. “you truly are amazing, sweetheart. not only in the kitchen but in every aspect of life.” you blushed, feeling a surge of warmth and gratitude for his unwavering support.

as the moon ascended into the starry night sky, you and taerae shared a meal filled with love and laughter, with playful banters and tender gestures, enjoying each others company.

// 리키 ricky.

amidst the bustling symphony of shoppers, the mall stood like a grand emporium of desires, filled with endless racks of clothes and vibrant storefronts that beckoned for exploration. the air was alive with the aroma of freshly cooked dishes from the nearby restaurants, and the sound of laughter and conversations painted a picturesque scene.

you and ricky walked through the labyrinthine passages of fashion, your eyes bright with the promise of finding the perfect outfit. your smile radiated happiness, and ricky couldn't help but feel a surge of affection every time he glanced at you.

“i really love this dress,” you said, holding up a flowing, floral-printed creation that seemed to mirror the vibrant scenery around you.

“its beautiful, just like you,” your boyfriend replied with a warm grin, but he couldn't help noticing the other shoppers glancing your way. his overprotective instincts started to kick in, and he couldn't help but cast wary glances at anyone who dared to look too long.

as you continued browsing, ricky was like a silent sentinel, ever-watchful of your surroundings. whenever you stopped to admire an item, he would discreetly stand between you and the crowd, as if forming an invisible barrier to protect you from the curious eyes of strangers.

“you know, ricky," you chuckled playfully, “its sweet how you always have my back, but i promise i can handle myself in a mall.”

“i know, i know,” he replied sheepishly, a faint blush tinting his cheeks. “i just can't help it. youre the most precious thing in my life, and i want to keep you safe.”

your heart melted at his sincerity, but you couldn't resist teasing him a bit. “do you think the mannequins are checking me out too? should i be worried about them stealing your thunder?” your boyfriend chuckled, realizing he might have been a bit too vigilant. “alright, alright, maybe i got carried away. but you gotta admit, they can't hold a candle to you.”

with laughter in your eyes, you took his arm and led him towards the accessories section. as you tried on various hats and sunglasses, rickys eyes never left your face. he couldn't help but marvel at how effortlessly you could turn anything into a fashion statement.

“you have a knack for making everything look good," he complimented, his admiration evident in his voice.

“flattery will get you everywhere,” you teased, trying on a wide-brimmed sun hat that made him grin.

as you continued your playful banter, rickys watchful nature relaxed slightly, realizing that you were indeed capable of navigating the mall without him acting like your personal bodyguard.

however, as you moved towards the changing rooms, he instinctively waited nearby, a mix of concern and bashfulness on his face. “ill be just here if you need anything,” he murmured.

“thanks, ricky,” you said, touched by his thoughtfulness. “i promise ill call you in if i need a fashion consultation.”

he chuckled and nodded, still staying within earshot as you ventured into the changing rooms. the moments you spent trying on different outfits turned into a little fashion show for him as you emerged with each new look.

your boyfriend felt like the luckiest person in the world. your beauty, inside and out, never ceased to amaze him. he was grateful for every second spent with you, and his overprotective tendencies stemmed from a deep love and care he held for you.

as the day wore on and the sun began to dip towards the horizon, you finally settled on a few outfits that made you feel fabulous. with your arms full of shopping bags, you and ricky made your way towards the mall's exit.

the golden colors of the evening sun spilled across the vast parking lot, casting a warm glow over the scene. ricky slipped his arm around your waist, pulling you close, as if to shield you from the world outside. “youre my safe haven, you know,” he murmured, his voice tinged with both vulnerability and affection.

“and you're mine,” you whispered back, resting your head against his shoulder.

hand in hand, you walked towards the car, feeling the gentle breeze carry the remnants of a perfect day, as the mall faded into the background.

// 김 gyuvin.

you and gyuvin entered a realm of pixelated dreams and flashing screens, where gamers from all walks of life converged to test their skills and indulge in the digital realm.

amidst the vivid cacophony, gyuvins eyes sparkled with anticipation as he guided you through the sea of arcade machines. his hand gently held yours, his touch providing a sense of security and warmth.

the arcade was a whimsical wonderland, an eclectic mix of bright colors and hypnotic sounds. the air hummed with the fervor of competitive spirits, mingling with the melodies of retro game soundtracks. rows upon rows of games lined the walls, enticing players with promises of adventure and victory.

as you navigated the arcade, your boyfriends overprotective tendencies began to reveal themselves, like a well-intentioned shield guarding you from harm. it started innocently enough, as he subtly positioned himself between you and the rowdy crowd, his protective instinct palpable.

you approached a claw machine, adorned with plush toys of all shapes and sizes, their beady eyes seemingly begging to be won. gyuvin stepped forward, his eyes narrowing in determination. “ill get you a prize,” he declared, his voice brimming with confidence.

his fingers deftly slipped a coin into the machine, and the claw descended with calculated precision. it hovered above a plush teddy bear, seemingly teetering on the brink of capture. with bated breath, you watched as the claw tightened its grip, only to falter at the last moment. gyuvins face contorted into a mix of frustration and determination.

“don't worry,” he reassured you, his voice tinged with determination. “ill get it next time. no plush toy can resist my skill!”

you giggled at his conviction, the corners of your lips curling into an affectionate smile. his unwavering determination was endearing, even in the face of a claw machine defeat. as he fed another coin into the machine, you marveled at the way his eyes never left the prize, his focus unyielding.

but as the night progressed, gyuvins protectiveness took on a more pronounced form. each time a stranger bumped into you, he would instinctively tense, his grip on your hand tightening just a fraction. he cast a watchful eye on anyone who approached, ready to intervene if he sensed any potential harm.

as you played a racing game, maneuvering through virtual landscapes with lightning speed, your boyfriend stood by your side, cheering you on with infectious enthusiasm. “youve got this!” he exclaimed, his voice filled with genuine pride. “show them what you're made of!”

yet, even in the midst of his unwavering support, gyuvin couldn't help but fret over your well-being. he would lean in close, his words filled with concern. “be careful on those sharp turns, love. i don't want you to hurt yourself.”

you found his overprotectiveness endearing. his genuine concern for your safety and happiness was a testament of his love. it wasn't about doubting your abilities, but rather an overwhelming desire to shield you from any potential harm, no matter how trivial.

as the night drew to a close, you found yourselves in front of a multiplayer game. it was a shooting game, where players donned virtual reality headsets and battled enemies in a thrilling sci-fi universe. gyuvin, ever the knight in shining armor, insisted on being your partner.

he held your hand tightly as you both entered the virtual realm, the weight of the headsets creating an immersive world around you. together, you fought side by side, taking down hordes of virtual enemies with unmatched teamwork and precision.

in this alternate reality, his protectiveness took on a new meaning. he covered your back, alerting you to incoming threats and shielding you from virtual harm. he whispered words of encouragement into your ear, his voice a soothing melody amidst the chaos.

“you're doing amazing, love,” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the sounds of gunfire. “ive got you. no one can touch you while im here.”

as the last enemy fell, you both removed your headsets, the virtual world fading away to reveal the dimly lit arcade once more. gyuvins eyes met yours, a softness in his gaze that melted your heart. “thank you for being by my side, gyuvin,” you whispered, your voice filled with genuine gratitude.

he smiled, his love shining through his eyes. “always, my love. ill protect you in the arcade and beyond. youre my greatest treasure.”

// 박 gunwook.

the cerulean hues of the sun-kissed sky, the swimming pool gleamed like a sapphire gem nestled in the embrace of a lush, vibrant garden. tropical flora swayed gently in the balmy breeze, casting playful shadows upon the glistening waters. you stood at the pools edge, the cool tiles soothing beneath your bare feet. your boyfriend, gunwook, exuded an aura of gentle strength, his tall frame casting a protective shadow over you.

as you dipped your toes into the pool, a mischievous grin spread across your face. gunwook couldn't resist the opportunity to join you. with a joyful leap, he cannonballed into the water, causing a cascade of sparkling droplets to dance around him. emerging from the depths, he shook his hair, sending water droplets flying like tiny diamonds in the sunlit air.

“hey there, fearless water nymph,” he chuckled, his eyes warm with adoration. “you ready to dive into some aquatic adventures?”

“oh, absolutely,” you replied, mirroring his infectious enthusiasm. “ive been looking forward to this all week!”

gunwook couldn't help but chuckle as he watched you wade into the water with a carefree spirit. as you ventured deeper, he swam alongside you, ensuring you were safe at every step.

“don't go too far, okay?” he said, his voice gentle yet filled with concern.

you playfully rolled your eyes. “don't worry, gunwook. ive got this! im an excellent swimmer, you know.” his eyes sparkled with tenderness. “i know you are, but you can never be too careful. besides, i just want to make sure you're always within my reach.”

with every stroke, he swam closer, keeping a watchful eye on you. it wasn't that he didn't trust your abilities; it was simply his nature to be protective. his heart swelled with love and admiration for you, and he couldn't help but feel a primal urge to shield you from any harm that might dare approach.

as you ventured toward the deeper end of the pool, the water embraced you like a second skin, its gentle caress sending shivers of delight up your spine. gunwook, ever the watchful guardian, kept pace, making sure the depths didn't overwhelm you.

“gunwook, i promise ill be careful,” you assured him, flashing a cheeky grin. “you don't have to worry so much!”

“i just can't help it, sweetheart,” he replied, his voice soft, yet earnest. The sweetness of his words tugged at your heartstrings, making you feel cherished and protected. It was a precious feeling, knowing someone cared for you so deeply.

as the sun reached its zenith, the pool became a haven of playful splashes and laughter. you and your boyfriend engaged in water battles, each splash and giggle echoing through the vibrant scenery.

but as the day wore on, you noticed a small shadow of fatigue tugging at gunwooks features. concerned, you swam up to him. “hey, are you okay?” you asked, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

he nodded, managing a tired smile. “im fine, just a little exhausted. but seeing you happy makes it all worthwhile.”

in that moment, you understood the depth of his love and devotion. he was there for you, supporting and protecting, even when he felt drained himself.

“lets take a break,” you suggested. “we can relax on the poolside, enjoy the sun, and maybe ill even give you a nice massage.”

his eyes brightened at the prospect, and you swam back to the pool's edge, both of you basking in the tranquil oasis you had created together.

as you reclined on the sun-drenched tiles, gunwook by your side, you couldn't help but feel grateful for his unintentional overprotectiveness. sometimes it might seem like hes too much, but he just loves you.

// 한 yujin.

as the sun rose on a warm summer morning, painting the skies in shades of pink and gold, you and yujin walked hand in hand towards the school, your backpacks slung over your shoulders, and hearts beating in sync. the air was filled with the scent of fresh grass and the promise of new adventures.

“yujin, it's such a beautiful day, isn't it?” you remarked, your eyes sparkling with delight.

“indeed it is, angel," yujin replied, his gaze never leaving you, a smile playing on his lips. “but let me walk on the side closer to the road, just to make sure you're safe.”

you giggled at his protectiveness, “oh, you worry too much! ill be fine.”

as you reached the school gates, your boyfriends overprotective nature seemed to intensify. he carefully scanned the surroundings, making sure there were no potential hazards in your path.

“yujin, seriously, ive been coming to this school for years. i know my way around,” you teased, trying to ease his worries.

“i know, i know,” he chuckled, “but i just want to keep you safe. its like a reflex.”

inside the school, the atmosphere was abuzz with energy and excitement. students hurried to their classes, and laughter reverberated through the hallways. yujins eyes darted from person to person, ever-watchful.

“have you ever considered being a personal bodyguard?” you giggled, leaning closer to him. “you seem quite skilled at looking out for people.”

yujins cheeks flushed slightly, “well, i guess i just care about you a lot.”

as the day progressed, you couldn't help but notice how your boyfriend seemed to be on high alert at all times. whenever someone came too close or even looked in your direction for a little longer than usual, he'd instinctively step forward, shielding you from their view.

in the cafeteria, he diligently checked the labels on the food to ensure you wouldn't accidentally eat something you were allergic to. during class, he discreetly passed you a sweater when he noticed you shivering, even though the weather was warm outside.

the schools garden was your favorite spot, a hidden paradise where natures beauty embraced you. yujins protective nature reached its peak here. he carefully brushed away any stray flowers from the bench before letting you sit, worried that they might be uncomfortable. he even stood between you and a playful squirrel, fearing it might bite.

“yujin, the squirrel is just curious, it won't hurt me,” you said, giggling at his antics.

“i know, but id rather be safe than sorry,” he replied with a sheepish grin.

time seemed to fly in each other's company, and as the sun began its descent, you both strolled back towards the school gates. yujins steps were a tad slower, his eyes heavy with a mix of fatigue and contentment.

“thank you for taking care of me all day, yujin. you really are my knight in shining armor," you said with a soft laugh.

he blushed, his heart swelling with love, “ill always be here to protect you, no matter what. its just in my nature.”

© gvnvks 2023. do not copy or translate any of my works.

[fleetingvow]

Hello, I really loved your writing for Wednesday and was wondering if I could request something.

Reader was hurt badly on the final fight and Wednesday gets worried about her, gets emotional just as she did with Thing. She doesn't leave reader's side until she wakes up and when she does she can't help but hold her because she thought that was it for a moment, and maybe confesses her feelings? You can elaborate it as much as you'd like, I'd just like for that to be the general idea, love some hurt/comfort.

Much love. <3

‘ DEATH BY A THOUSAND CUTS .

Wednesday Addams x Female Reader.

SYNOPSIS. wednesday addams never cried for anyone, not until she held you fighting for your life, desperately trying to stay alive to return the whispered confession. ( 4.15k words )

NAVIGATION. part one - part two. masterlist.

WARNINGS. major angst. character death ( reader’s ). unproofread. english not being the author’s first language.

NOTE. written in second person’s point of view. another love by tom odell being the angsty essential to produce this fic.

REQUESTED BY. anonymous. thank you for your lovely words, and for trusting my writing to create a perfectly stomach churning plot! do enjoy this work.

LISTEN TO WHILE READING. optional. another love by tom odell.

TAGS. @ryver19 @danysflames

𝗜𝗙 𝗪𝗘𝗗𝗡𝗘𝗦𝗗𝗔𝗬 wasn’t worried about braving the ancient face of Crackstone before, she definitely was now. Not because she was scared of him. It’s because you were the most idiotic person she knew. What were you doing in a battle that you shouldn’t be in? Were you even aware of what you were getting yourself into? She wanted to know what was going through your mind when you marched in the courtyard without a weapon or anything to protect yourself with. Just a glare that wouldn’t do anything.

The fire burning so fierce dancing with the breeze turned slow. Everything seemed too leisure for her liking when she spotted you standing there. It was as if the world had stopped spinning, but it couldn’t possibly now, could it? Xavier was mad enough to try and help, and now you? What were you going to do? Why were you even here?

You weren’t glaring at the pilgrim. You were glaring at her. The blade that was in her possession had shattered and her attention was turned to you. That was the last thing you needed. You hated Wednesday for being the centre of everything because you knew it meant sacrificing so much, even herself.

She used to love seeing you angry and defeated, but not like this. Not this way when you were getting defeated by the monster that stood before her and not her. Not when your hair moved with the wind so slowly as she met your gaze while watching the fire burn in your eyes in the middle of danger. She felt weaker.

You were a vulnerability. A phenomenon in which she, herself, couldn’t even explain.

Paying attention to the movement in your peripheral view, your eyes darted to the figure, slowly coming to the revelation that it was Bianca, in all her grace, standing not so far away from the distracted pilgrim.

You heard a victorious crackle emit from the old man’s mouth, and that’s when you knew. You quickly turned to Wednesday who was trying her best to suppress her noises of struggle. It just made you angrier. Your heart skipped faster in your chest as your mind ran circles in your head, putting it all into shambles that made it difficult for you to think. This anger had neer been felt by you before. It was suffocating, restricting, and it tightened your chest to the point that you almost gasped for air. That’s when you recalled what you came there for.

To help Wednesday put Crackstone back to where he belongs.

You shut your eyes and found yourself a moment before opening them again. When the young Addams thought you had nothing as a weapon, she was wrong. Locking eyes with the siren, you nodded and lifted a hand to reveal the lustrous object from your back. Using your ability, you passed the dagger to the girl who took the blade, understanding the task that she now shouldered.

However, that didn’t provide you much comfort. Wednesday was looking at death straight in the face and your trembling body didn’t stop to just stand around and watch. Your feet dragged you hastily a few feet away from Bianca.

This caught Crackstone’s attention as he slowly turned his head to you, grinning like he faced the Devil in front of him and made a sacrifice for a deal. You couldn’t even describe the disgust and fear you felt as you saw his face fresh from the dead.

“Those who intrude shall join the abomination in the depths of hell!”

You stared at him, narrowing your eyes as you swallowed your spit cautiously to watch his every little move that could be used against you.

What were you doing? You looked stupid! Wednesday’s furrowed eyebrows already said it all. Her heart pounding in her chest almost ripped her open when she saw Crackstone raising the sceptre in his hand, about to conjure such a damage on you. She hated that she couldn’t do anything but look at you, mentally telling you not to do what it is that you’re going to do and run to safety.

You lifted your arm slightly and tried your best to pull the sceptre away, but all it did was drain your energy and create a tension that you couldn’t even control, yourself. You were pulling his source of power, but it seemed as though your telekinetic ability wasn’t enough to do anything. Crackstone was far more powerful. You didn’t stand a chance.

You raised your other hand and conjured an object to hit him in an attempt to distract his attention from the focus he had on his sceptre. He didn’t budge and destroyed it to pieces.

“Enough!” He shouted and with a move of the mace, you were thrown across the courtyard, your back hitting the stone pillars causing you to descend to the ground with an aching body and a sharp grunt.

“Y/N!” It was unrecognisable as to who yelled for your name, but you were tired.

You were shaking extremely now. The statics ringing in your ears became deafening to the point that you didn’t hear what the next thing was. Your vision got blurry, and dark spots started to patch up your vision. You closed your eyelids shut numerously in an attempt to recover, and as you did so, you caught the bits and pieces of what was occurring right in front of you.

Bianca groaned as she toppled on the ground just the same as her. Crackstone looked unfazed as he stood with a stab, the fiery blaze of fire appearing on his back to his lower chest. He turned and soon, it was your turn as you stood. He took the blade to make use of it, but you weren’t having it. Not to Bianca. Not to anyone in that courtyard, except him.

You swiftly got on your feet, ignoring the statics and the migraine that had formed once you stood up. Your limping feet dragged you in front of the siren as you stopped right there with the dagger whipping past the air at lightning speed.

You were getting sick of lifting your hand, but it was needed this time or anyone in this courtyard is dead. You tried to stop the blade from rushing towards you, and for a second, you thought you did.

That was when you caught the smirk on Crackstone’s face. You knew it wasn’t good. So did Bianca. Your eyes widened in fear, but you didn’t have much time to react.

When with that, the blade pierced through your flesh with the sound of the metal cutting through your skin and burying deep in your body as you let out a shortened gasp. With pursed lips, you looked down and saw the dagger on your lower abdomen. The blood was quickly seeping through your clothes, shining under the joined light provided by the moon, the stars, and the fire that Wednesday thought used to burn in your eyes.

Before you completely succumbed to the dizziness was the sight of Crackstone turning to Wednesday. Then, it blurred. All your eyes could gather was the fire getting fiercer in the form of Crackstone’s figure. Was it fire? You didn’t know, but you heard the low monstrous scream that almost made you let out a victorious cry.

But once the final disappearance of his body started in the blaze, it burst into a powerful surge of what his power once was, causing a strong wave that wiped the fire off the courtyard.

You looked at Wednesday who returned the gesture as she glared at you with her sharp narrowed eyes. You plummeted to the ground shortly after with Bianca rushing over.

Wednesday marched forward and pushed the siren aside in haste as she kneeled down next to you. Your breaths were hitching, your hand laid on the dagger, stained with the red hue of your metallic blood. Beads of sweat started forming on your forehead which felt odd to you as you began to feel colder each minute.

“Don’t you dare pull out the knife,” Wednesday’s command made you groan. You could feel the metal in you, and it was the most discomforting sensation.

Wednesday didn’t know how to act or feel. She didn’t even know what to think, but the fact that you laid there on the ground, bleeding out as you trembled made her lose her mind. She couldn’t have that or else she’d lose her composure.

“I’ll call for help,” Bianca proclaimed before running out of the courtyard.

But that wasn’t the end of it all when you and Wednesday’s ears perked up at the sound of a gun cocking in the distance. And lo and behold was Thornhill with a gun in her hand, aimed at the girl who slowly stood up to confront Laurel.

“You brought a gun to a sword fight. It’s probably the first smart decision you’ve made today.”

“I might not get to kill all the outcasts, but at least I get to kill you, Wednesday.”

You groaned and shut your eyes from the stinging pain, your eyes getting tired to keep wide open as yet another fight occurred. Laurel had her gun pointed straight on Wednesday, but it was as if you didn’t feel the pain when a bee appeared followed by Eugene with his bright smile that seemed to crack the tension into two, replacing the delight of the moon to the shine of the sun.

You could’ve exceeded the amount of the stars of thanking him for saving Wednesday, but your breaths were getting shorter, and you knew there and then that this was probably the last time you’ll ever feel your heart beating in your chest.

You swallowed the lump on your throat. No, you can’t cry. Not now. Not here on the ground.

“Eugene, search the school for an emergency medical kit. Make it quick before I dig a grave.”

Wednesday turned to you, not wasting another minute to rush next to you again. She put her hand on your chest to feel the pound of your hope inside. You didn’t like this weak profile of you in front of the girl you so badly wanted to defeat just because you saw a bit of yourself in her.

( Cue the start of the music )

You always hated your reflection, hence why when she attended Nevermore, she had become nothing but a walking mirror yet also an ironic form of what you despised.

She despised you equally. You always gave her that stare she didn’t like. Wednesday found you to be a scuff on the floor she’d walk past on, but you became addicting to defeat that even winning against Bianca had become pointless when she spotted you in the crowd and challenged you in the archery field.

“It hurts,” you mumbled shakily as you tried your best to hold a noise down your throat.

She hated that. She hated that it affected her. Wednesday shouldn’t care for you, not after all the pent up anger she felt when you were around. Not the anger that made her want to stick around you more in order to rub it in your face that she was so much better than you tried to prove yourself to be.

A noise escaped your lips.

That made her close her eyes. She never did that. She wanted to remove the sight of you in front of her, and she thought it was just because you looked so human — weak. Or was it because of the hurt that she felt in her stomach? She has had enough. She wanted cotton to block her ears from your noise. You had been suppressing the noises, but God, this noise was different now. You were suffering, and it made her stomach churn once she noticed that she knew that.

Why would she know that about you?

“Wednesday,” you called, your voice being something she couldn’t get herself to listen to but still tried.

She opened her eyes and clenched her jaw.

“You’re about to cry.” Wednesday remarked dryly, hiding the fact that it made her want to stab her eyes for noticing such a detail. “It’s unnecessary.”

Who was she kidding? She had an arrow that pierced through the flesh of her shoulder and it already stung. What more a stab that she knew what felt like? Especially twisted. It was an electrocution with tenfold the increased voltage on the maimed part of the body. It wasn’t just that. There was more to it than she saw from you now.

You chuckled. “Yeah, I thought that too.”

You didn’t want things to end like this. Wednesday wasn’t a mirror. She was a similarity that you had an opportunity to know and relate to. You had a chance for her to be your friend, but instead of taking that chance, you looked at her like a competition just because you hated the aspect of yourself that you tried to link with her.

Wednesday tensed up when your bloody hand found hers on the dirty ground. Your fingers touching hers making her head spin faster than the Earth on its axis. There was a sensation there. On the spot that your cold hands inflicted upon the place of contact. A slight feeling that caused her to look down at it, her eyes going from anger to something gentle and unexplainable. You were holding her hand. She wanted to process that in her head.

You were holding her hand.

Wednesday wanted to kill after the contact, because the look you had on your face mirrored hers. She knew it wasn’t a good sign.

“Can we pretend like we didn’t try to kill each other for the whole term?” Your voice was barely a voice. The question had become a whisper that only she could hear.

No, no. You weren’t doing this. She didn’t want it. She didn’t need it. The young Addams never asked for it but why were you doing it? God, you were stubborn. She hated you so much!

But you were you. There was nothing she could do about it. You were your own person, and that’s perhaps . . . Wednesday looked at your joined hands once again. It made her feel.

You made her feel.

Every aspect of you made her feel alive.

She thought she’d known thrill and the concept of romance all her life, but she was sure that every bit and piece of what she knew about it could be matched with this — this fluttery feeling in her stomach. The spark crackling on her skin that you were in contact with. Your eyes sending shivers down her spine. This state of you that angered her so much. Her knees shaking from fear of having no one in Nevermore to compete with once again.

Why did she feel this way?

She was supposed to despise you. Wednesday pursed her lips. She looked down at yours. There was a night that she pondered over why the first thing she kept seeing was your lips when she saw you. Then, after that one thought came the billions in her head when she lied still on her cold bed in the middle of the night that would sometimes even last until the light of dawn. She thought it was just because she hated you.

She thought it was just because you provoked such an emotion in her that was far too complicated for her to comprehend. Now, Wednesday wanted to test a theory, but was there even a theory to be tested, or was it the truth?

“I never hated you.”

She heard laughter from you. Was it funny that she said that? Was that statement pointless to you? Did it mean nothing? Wednesday’s eyes narrowed, her eyelashes doing that thing you usually found amusing.

You looked away and focused on the blanket of stars glinting so brightly above you. You let out a breath, “Huh.”

Should you tell her the truth? “Since I’m dying, I think you deserve the truth.”

That made her look up at you again, tearing her gaze away from your hand again. you almost laughed at her if you weren’t so badly injured now.

“I think I never hated you too, Wednesday.”

If an instrument was checking the pounding of her heartbeat, the machine would have gone crazy as the lines came in shambles. It was the same for you, but how would you know? You — why was she staring at you like that?

Why were her eyes the ones glossy now?

“You’re about to cry.” You commented, ignoring the sharp pain that started to become worse now that you thought was like the one before. You didn’t think much of it. Yes, it was painful, but why would you? “It’s unnecessary.”

You gasped at yet another pain. Your hands clutched hers, making her shift in her spot, her fingers squeezing you back.

That didn’t help your already dying heartbeat. There was more to what you said before, but you had to refrain yourself drom embarrassing yourself in front of her just in case this was the last.

And you were sure this was your last.

You vowed never to fall for the traps of love, most especially its romantic form. You saw and experienced many things that you never wanted to look back on ever again. However, you hated how your wall slowly crumbled down for Wednesday who almost shared the same perspective as you, although hers was more glum and grim. Yours was about the matter of love. Hers was about life.

Maybe this similarity was the reason you managed to be close to her. Not that close. Just this close. Just this in which you’d share the peace in front of the quiet lake without saying another word. Just holding each other’s gazes on occasions and looking away, with you clearing your throat and her bumping your shoulder to the point that it would ache later on for no reason. Just stealing glances at certain times while the other was accompanied by another at the Rave’N. Just fighting most of the time. Just acting like nothing happened the next. Just ignoring each other’s presence while looking back when walking past each other in the corridors of Nevermore.

“Y/N?”

You gasped, “I can’t — ” You panted for air again, “Breathe.”

“Don’t speak.” Her trembling hand removed its grip from yours as she stood up, frantic yet graceful when she spotted and obtained the blade she banished Crackstone with on the ground. The girl cut the edge of her long skirt and proceeded to take a long piece, careful not to make her own shorter than it should be.

She then proceeded to kneel down next to you. No, you weren’t leaving her hanging like this. Your truth was barely the truth, and she wnated to hear from you. She badly wanted to hear your voice again in full volume, in that pitch that she always knew.

Wednesday cried for Thing, but God, you? She knew she’d fill an ocean. This couldn’t be happening to her again.

She hated you now. She hated how scared you were making her feel in that moment. Were you even aware of what you were doing to her? She was supposed to be in her best composure, handling this in a graceful way that wouldn’t require her to shake so much, to curse in her head just because you were struggling.

Why did she care?! She cared so much it was too unnecessary, and her eyes were starting to water from this sight of you.

The girl wrapped the cloth around the knife that she couldn’t pull out. She put pressure on the spot but her heart dropped to her stomach the most when a tear escaped your eye.

Wednesday’s eyes widened. She quickly took you by the shoulders and laid your head on her lap in a hurry. Now was the time that she didn’t know what to do the most.

You couldn’t leave her like this.

She couldn’t bear it. She wouldn’t.

She wanted to spend another moment alone in the quiet in front of the lake, staring at your reflections and stealing glances over the water.

She wanted to ponder about you at night, questioning why it was your lips first that she captured when she looked back at you when you passed by each other in the hallways.

She wanted — no, demanded to see your annoying face that kept popping up in her nightmares and daydreams to show up beaming at her, laughing at some stupid joke someone told.

Your life story can’t just end like this.

What was she to do without you? Wednesday could imagine a world where it was just you and her living off the taunts of each other, competing to wind, but enjoying each other’s company.

She envisioned you laying your head on her shoulder after a long exhausting day, ranting to her about how your day went. She could envision herself just nodding, being the same old her that people often thought did not care enough.

Did you care enough?

Because she did. Enough to hold you in her arms, to embarrass herself in front of you.

How the mighty have fallen for the graces of someone like you? You thought.

“If you die on me, I will make history repeat itself just to bring you back and I'll stab you again myself.”

You used what bit of your energy was left to quirk your lips up to form a curve. You liked Wednesday.

It was clearer than the water you occasionally stared at for hours in her company.

“Out of all the people in the world, the ones I share the same blood with, used to tell my secrets to,” you quietly gasped for air to continue, “This, Wednesday Addams . . .”

Your clutch on her arm was starting to loosen as your eyelids started to slowly drop down to meet the darkness.

“This is the only time I feel given a damn about.”

Wednesday’s eyes didn’t know which to focus on. They darted on the dagger, the blood, the cloth, your eyes, your parted lips — “Y/N?” That was the first time her call for someone had a frantic frightened tone.

Your hand on the ground without another sign of movement was a touch of something that amde her feel as if someone had poured acid in her stomach. Her hand made its way to your cheek, not caring whether the blood on her hand got on your face.

Why weren’t you waking up? Why weren’t you opening her eyes and shooting up from the ground to tell her that you were just joking? She didn’t care if it was a fucked up prank, as long as she knew you were still there.

But no, God no, you weren’t.

“Wake up, Y/N.”

She shook you, but there was nothing. She placed two fingers on the side of your neck to check your pulse but she couldn’t get any sign of it.

A tear fell.

Wednesday halted. The girl touched her cheek, wiping the drop of what she vowed never to do again and leisurely examined her finger that shone with the wet surface because of the tear.

There she knew.

Wednesday wished she had realised it before, but no, it took you reaching the end of your own life story before she could even understand.

She knew a bit about you.

She knew you were Y/N and that you used to live in a small home in a small town in Romania where you had a family that pushed you around just because you were an outcast. That you had a gift that none of them could accept, for it was deemed to be witchcraft or that it made them insecure to use as a reason to make you feel small.

She knew you used to have friends who spilled all your secrets that made you fall from your grace. From being at the top down to the six foot level underground.

She knew you had a fling. She knew it didn’t end well. She knew your family put you in Nevermore to get rid of you and find yourself.

She knew that you cried yourself to sleep, knew that you believed that no one cared.

She knew what was going on in the back of your mind when you wiped away your tears in front of the lake.

Wednesday just wished she never looked away when she saw who you were. She wished she never resisted what it was that she felt.

Because what you went through? She knew it was that much of a cut and the stab that Crackstone had done to you was the thousandth.

Or maybe it was the words that were left unsaid?

AUTHOR’S NOTE. part two will be coming up soon! this will be edited tomorrow since it’s so late already and i have to wake up in about four hours again. if you want to get tagged for the next part, just leave a comment. thank you!

[fernclans]

MOON 09.

Starring: Dashpaw (BuddingClan), Cliffstripe (BuddingClan), Amberpaw (BuddingClan), Flippaw (BuddingClan), Cougarkit (BuddingClan), Cowkit (BuddingClan), Pinekit (BuddingClan)

“May all cats of BuddingClan gather beneath the Echoed Stones for a clan meeting!”

The words were more familiar now, not feeling so much like a kit playing pretend. Cliffstripe sat confidently atop the towers of stone, reminding himself of how unstable he was the last time he called to the clan.

Amberpaw and Dashpaw were the first to arrive; they offered for Flippaw to stay in the den recovering, still unable to put weight on her injured leg, but she insisted that she’d be there. The sound of kittenspeak alerted the group to the final apprentice’s arrival, an apologetic grin crossing her face as the trio of kittens stumble their way into the clearing.

“Sorry guys, I couldn’t stop them from following me.” She meows, carefully limping to a spot besides Amberpaw.

Pinekit is quick to start pawing at Amberpaw’s cheek fur, looking up at her with large, kitten-blue eyes. “Where been?” She squeaks, sniffing deeply into Amberpaw’s chest. “Smelly.” The kitten backs away, her mouth agape and filled with the new scent.

“Checking the borders.” Amberpaw meows simply, bending down to lick Pinekit’s forehead. “Come here, you can sit in my tail while Cliffstripe talks.” The mottled brown and white she-kit seems to think about the offer for a moment before tottling over and disappearing behind Amberpaw’s abundant fur.

Cougarkit remains by Flippaw’s side as she settles down, Cowkit preoccupied by the apprentice’s waving tail. “Now you guys promised you’d be quiet, right?” The first of the two nods quickly, placing a paw over his mouth in acknowledgement -- the latter remains quiet, focused on Flippaw’s tail.

“If Cowkit causes you trouble, send her over and I can sit on her.” Dashpaw teases, making eye-contact with the kit who shrinks somewhat before moving to sit on Flippaw’s other side.

“Well, no worries, Flippaw. It’s hard when there’s no one else who can watch them.” Cliffstripe speaks up, seeing everyone finally settle. “Without further ado…”

The ginger tom nods to Dashpaw, who raises when Cliffstripe begins.

“Dashpaw, you have trained diligently and have far proven yourself ready for your warrior name. I call down upon our ancestors to look down upon you, and commend you as a full-fledged warrior of BuddingClan. Do you promise to uphold the warrior code and defend this clan with your life?”

Uncharacteristically serious, Dashpaw nods. “I do.”

“Then, from this day forward you will be known as Dashrabbit; BuddingClan honors your charisma and ability to think fast in dire situations.” Cliffstripe would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little nervous; was naming in honor of Rabbitsnow the right thing? Was that insensitive? He steals a glance at Dashrabbit, who seemed to be gazing upward, eyes brimming with pride.

“Amberpaw, do you promise to uphold the warrior code and defend this clan even at the cost of your life?”

“I do.” Though she remains seated, Amberpaw’s chest is puffed out, back straight.

“From today, you will be known as Amberhare. BuddingClan welcomes you as a full warrior and honors you for your drive to help others.”

Flippaw is the first to erupt with cheer, to be met by a confused and startled Cougarkit, who thought they needed to be quiet. Before long, Cowkit and Pinekit join in the merrimaking, cheering the new names even if they didn’t fully understand what all of this meant. Cliffstripe descends from the stones, bumping roughly into Dashrabbit’s shoulder, and then slightly less roughly into Amberhare’s. “Congratulations. I know you'll do great."

[linberlyy]

HBO recently released a new video with mini-interviews with actors on green/black team. And do you know what conclusion we made? Our greens actors are so afraid to express their opinions and views on the actions of the characters that they begin to laugh them off, albeit in short phrases, and explain what we already know.

Just take a look:

Tom: “Why should Team Green be on the throne and not Team Black? My name is on the lease for the castle." (We know, Tom, how much you get hated, and we understand that this is all you can say in principle at such events).

Fabien: “I think it's more a loyalty thing for Cole. I think it's his loyalty to Alicent. He wants what she wants. I myself… no comments.” (I was already shy at the end, you are our sunshine).

Ewan: “Aemond, he was bullied and wronged as a kid. They carved his eye out. He bounced back. He put a sapphire gemstone in his eye. And yeah, they're gonna get what's coming to them.” (Here Ewan revealed what we've already...sort of...seen? Why do we need a summary of the events of the first season? Even the last encrypted phrase sounded without the connotation we needed, so that, obviously, God forbid, we put him against mailwife Daemon, against whom he is nothing).

Olivia: "We have bigger dragons." (Poor Olivia, she was hated, it seems, more than anyone else. She looks thinner and tighter. I really hope that we are wrong. They didn’t even say the words in using their party, just so as not to cause a storm of negativity, how dare this ungrateful person go against Rhaenyra!)

While the actors of the opposite side can afford to make too eloquent and provocative statements, it is clear that most of the normies will support them and begin to squeal with delight:

Steve: “Team Black should be on the throne instead of Team Green. Team Green are usurpers. Team Black are the rightful heirs. They were named by the King. They're just better looking, generally.” (Even green actors cannot afford to call their characters “legitimate” and make any comments in favor of the opposite side, but here there is just basic cringe. Everything we like).

Eve: “They're the best. And the annoying people are pretty obviously the Greens. They're all just a bunch of knobs, and they need their heads being knocked together." (No comments, right? Everything is clear here).

Harry: “Team Black are decent people. We are more of a functioning family. We do things the right way." (The funny thing is that the whole Dance is the struggle of ONE family. The fact that EVEN the actors divide both groups into TWO different families already says something, and we do not take this into account, as it is about the same persons in the scripts).

Phoebe: “I think we love each other way more. I think we have a family base that is incredible. (Yes, let's also compare who loves whom more).

Bethany: “Team Black are the most fun. We get on the most. They all hate each other. „You have no idea the sacrifices that were made to put you on the throne“. (In the video, after the actress’s words, they accidentally removed Alicent and Aegon from the trailer, obviously, there was a visible emphasis on the fact that there is no love in the green family, and in general they watched without exception, but with their black maniacs, everything is cool with them).

Matt: “My uncle is a challenge I welcome. If he dares face me." No chance. I'm coming for his head. I'm gonna put it on a spike. Me and Rhaenyra, there's a bloodline to us, isn't there? We're the thoroughbreds." (Compare Ewan's lines with his. There is a big difference. Matt has the ability to say things like this to please the surviving fans, while Ewan does not, because all he gets in response is judgment, hate speech and swearing. And the phrase “We're the thoroughbreds” each time comes closer and closer to the name of H*tler with his “pure Aryan blood”, don’t blame me).

Emma: "We have madness on our side. And we have a powerful naval presence. Thanks to the Velaryon fleet." (Ok, do we need to remind you in what right and wrong ways the characters got it? Do the Velaryons themselves even know what the key is? However, Emma’s words carry disgust, like the words of her fellow actors, so she’s just a bun. Thanks for that too).

Does anyone have any other suggestions as to which side we present to get our ass kissed? The answer is obvious.