#and they don't know but why do I need to say anything

[woso-dreamzzz]

Teeth

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Pernille does it again

"I don't want to talk about it," Pernille says as Georgia slides into the cubby next to her.

"I wasn't going to say anything!" Georgia lies.

"I still don't want to talk about it," Pernille insists," No comment. I'm not talking about it with anyone. I'm not answering any questions."

"You don't need to," Georgia assures her," Because your kid is letting everyone know what happened."

Currently, you're on Sydney's lap, pealing back your upper lip to show off the gap that your two front teeth used to occupy.

They'd both come out last night.

Only one had been wobbly.

Pernille buries her head in her hands and forces herself not to scream. "I need to teach her that not everyone needs to know our business."

Georgia chuckles. "I don't know," She says," She seems pretty happy to tell everyone. You'd take that joy away from her?"

"It's humiliating."

Georgia keeps giggling, especially when you gesture wildly over to Pernille to accentuate your story.

It was an accident again, like the first time you lost a tooth. Thankfully, a ball hadn't been kicked in your face but this time it seemed liked it was much worse.

It had been hot out yesterday and Magda insisted on a barbeque while her family was visiting.

You'd been inside, dragging your new schoolwork down to show your grandparents because you'd gotten a certificate for it.

You'd taken your time so Pernille thought it would be a little funny to scare you as you came out.

She'd jumped at you when you came through the door and you'd shrieked, jumping in the air before stumbling.

Everyone was laughing before they realised you had gone face first into the steps of the outside decking.

Magda sat you up which was when you spat out your two front teeth into her hands.

It was mortifying that it had happened a second time, Pernille accidentally being the cause of your teeth falling out.

This time though, a little older than the first, you didn't seem to care much about the pain in your mouth, just that you were going to get a big cash out from the tooth fairy.

You also seem incapable of keeping the story to yourself, having come into training today ready to show off your tooth gap, your newly acquired lisp and the amount of money you got.

It's the money bit that has Magda staring daggers at Pernille from across the locker room and Pernille agrees that she may have gone overkill but she'd already set a precedent and she doesn't want you staging a revolt against the tooth fairy for your lack of money this time.

No matter what Magda says about explaining the concept of inflation to you, Pernille knows that you won't accept anything else then the ten euros you got previously.

Plus the amount added on that Pernille knows will wave her feeling of guilt.

"The tooth fairy gave me thirty euros!" You tell Sydney and Scottish Sam," Fifteen for each tooth!"

"So cool!" Sydney tells you while Sam's mouth hangs open in shock.

"Because of inflation I got more!" You continue," The tooth fairy wrote me a note saying so. I don't know what inflation is but I like it!"

"I'm sure you do," Magda says, picking you up and setting you back on the floor," But let's put the money away now."

"Thirty euros?" Georgia hisses at Pernille as you and Magda go off to put your money because in your little puppy purse," Can you be my tooth fairy?"

"Don't," Pernille groans," It's guilt money. I feel really bad."

"Why? They were bound to come out at some point."

"That's not the point! They weren't ready and now she's got no front teeth."

"But she's thirty euros richer. That has to count for something."

"It counts for me not sleeping in my bed tonight," Pernille mutters.

You're back to flitting around the room now, practically skipping on air to tell everyone how Pernille made you smack your face against the decking steps in front of the whole family and how you had to have your barbeque cut up for you instead of just scoffing it down like everyone else.

That seems to be your main annoyance with this whole thing. How you couldn't eat your barbeque like normal. In the grand scheme of things, Pernille supposes, you could have had a much worse reaction.

She should take the small wins when they come.

The small wins like now as you sit on the bench next to Magda and inspect your gap with your tongue.

The space from the wobbly tooth is already being filled in, its replacement already coming in.

You seem to be fairly distracted by inspecting your mouth rather than complaining about your gums hurting so Pernille will take the win for what it is.

"Momma," You call out to her," Next time, can you knock out three of my teeth so I can get more money?"

[vivwritesfics]

Idk if this is what you meant by supernatural au but what about a demon/king of hell Lando manipulating innocent reader into falling in love with him?

I took out the manipulation because i don't vibe with that but demon lando hell yeah

warnings: hints of smut

She'd seen him twice before she had the courage to approach him. But he was beautiful, and she couldn't help herself.

She tried to say 'hey', but didn't get the chance. He held out his hand, captivating eyes staring into her own as he pulled her onto the dance floor. His hands were on her hips as he moved her body against his own.

They were kissing before she knew his name. There was something about him that was just so captivating. He held her until the club closed and then held her hand as he walked her out of the doors.

She didn't even know his name and she was leading him back to her apartment. She didn't even know his name and she had her legs wrapped around his own as he ploughed her into her mattress, fucked her eight ways from Wednesday.

To Lando, she was supposed to be a one night stand. But as he laid laid, eyes moving over her back. If she was like him, there would have been wings there, black feathers like his own. They would have been beautiful, but she was human.

Lando didn't think he'd be coming back to her again. Usually he spent the night with one girl and moved on. Why the hell was he at her door again, this time with food in his hands, food that he couldn't eat.

She welcomed him back into the apartment, welcomed him back again. And again. And again. Before she knew it, Lando was a regular in her life. And she didn't want that to change.

She didn't know what he was, and Lando preferred it in that way. She was so sweet, she didn't need to know what he was. Not knowing what he was was going to keep her safe.

The longer Lando spent with her, the harder he found it to keep control. I mean, you can't really fault the king of hell for being paranoid over the safety of his human girlfriend. He laid awake with her, holding her against his chest, thinking up a thousand scenarios of the way he could have lost her.

He was gonna do anything it could to keep her safe.

If you enjoyed this, please feel free to buy me a coffee

[oldbrownart]

Growing up I always watched movies, documentaries, tv shows and read books about atrocities committed by people in history and thought.. how did this happen and why did no one do anything? Why did governments not intervene? Why did public figures not speak out? How did they get away with it? it? Most importantly how did human treat other humans like that? Where was the compassion?

I'm ashamed to say that in 2024 I now have the answers. The government's gas lighting and complicity, the media dehumanising, ignoring and bias reporting, the huge companies funding and supporting, the public figures choosing to stay silent, the ordinary person pretending "they don't know enough" this is how we've allowed this to happen time and time again..

In the past we could forgive people for not having enough information, not having access to it, not being able to hear the stories of the horrors, to be able to see it with their own eyes..

In 2024 you can't pretend you "don't know enough" you can't pretend you don't see innocent children, men, and women being brutally killed by sadistic, genocidal leaders and their war crimes.. you can't ignore the 100's and 1000's of videos, images, stories and people who are telling you what is happening.. the sheer horror of images we are seeing.. you can't ignore the countless protests, discourse, conversations, posts, live feeds etc.. history will judge your inaction, your silence, your ignorance..

This is not a war.. this is a genocide.. this is massacre.. there are no sides..

Also please don't forget the innocent people suffering in Sudan and Congo they need our voices too!

[avatar-anna]

i saw this post on and got inspired. enjoy!

"It was nice running into you."

"Yeah, yeah, you too. It was—I'm glad we could catch up."

You held your bag in both of your hands and leaned back on your heels, waiting for the sudden tension to cease. Harry scratched his neck awkwardly while you looked down at the cobbled streets beneath your shoes. When a minute passed and neither of you said anything, when two couples excised themselves to walk past you, you finally decided to break the silence.

"I'm headed this way."

"Me too. We can walk together?"

"O—Okay."

Harry extended his arm out, a clear message for you to go first, so you did. For a split second, his hand grazed your lower back in that protective gesture he always used to use when you walked anywhere. But that had been when you were together, and now you weren't, and even though his hand merely hovered awkwardly behind you, you swore you could still feel it.

"Your hair looks nice. I don't think I've ever seen it so short before," you said, needing to break the silence all over again before it consumed you.

"Thanks, I, uh, I shaved it a few months back. It's finally starting to grow in."

It must've been soon after your break up, you realized, quickly doing the math in your head. A change, a fresh start after the end of a long relationship. You understood that, knew neither of you needed to comment on it, or the fact that you no longer wore the necklace Harry bought you for your first anniversary, though you'd seen him glance down at the missing piece of jewelry multiple times since you ran into each other.

"It's cute," you said, resisting the intrusive urge to reach up and touch his hair, instead clasping your hands behind your back.

"Are you across the bridge?" Harry asked, gesturing to one of the many bridges that stretched across the Tiber.

"Yeah. How'd you know?"

Harry shrugged, the canvas bag on his shoulder slipping a fraction. "You always liked Trastevere."

You smiled, charmed by how Harry still seemed to know you so intrinsically. "And you? Are you staying in Prati?"

Harry shook his head before waving to a fan who had spotted him. He didn't stop, though, and kept walking beside you, asking about your family, specifically your grandmother, who was his Scrabble partner nearly the entirety of your relationship.

"Good. I play Scrabble with her on the weekends now. I'm pretty sure she thinks I'm not a good enough opponent, but she'll never say it to my face."

"Graceful as always, your nan," Harry nodded in agreement. "Probably wouldn't say the same thing about chess, though."

"No, probably not. Do you still play?" you asked, tilting your head up to look at him.

He was so close, close enough that the sleeve of his green shirt grazed your bare arm. Close enough that if you really wanted it to the back of your hand could graze his. Instead you shifted your hand away.

"When I can," Harry said, his mouth twitching as if recalling a memory. "I've been focusing on writing most days, but I play whenever I'm stuck."

"How's that going?"

"How's work?"

"Sorry, go ahead," you said, blushing a little. Would it always be this awkward around him? You hoped not. Harry had been a friend first, and even though you knew you shouldn't,y you missed his companionship some nights. Lots of nights. Most nights.

"No, you go. Catch me up on all the latest drama at work."

So you did, falling back into familiar, neutral territory as you brought Harry up to speed on your co-workers.

Before long, you'd made it to the apartment you were renting, your palms suddenly warm as you searched your purse for your keys. You were stalling, you both knew it, but Harry didn't comment, nor did he leave, didn't offer any reason to finally say goodbye.

You knew this was where it was supposed to end. That a chance encounter with your ex in a foreign country really shouldn't have gone on this long. You knew that, and yet...

"Do you want to come in?" you asked, scrambling for any logical reason as to why Harry should follow you into your apartment. "I—I, uh, I could make us coffee and—"

"Please. I mean—Sure. That would be...that would be fine."

Relief flooded through you, though that was quickly replaced by a guilty sort of anticipation as you unlocked the door to the main building of the apartment, as Harry followed you up a couple flights of stairs, as he waited once again for you to unlock a door. When you were inside, when you set your things down on the small dining table, you turned to face your ex.

Harry's gaze was once again lowered to your collarbones, to the place where the necklace he gave you used to sit. Then he met your eyes, the expression in them clear. It was the first time you'd seen them since running into him today. He'd kept his sunglasses on the whole time, perhaps to hide his expressions more, because now that you properly met his gaze, you saw it all. Those green eyes you still loved so much betrayed his every thought, and you knew yours probably did as well.

It was hard to say who moved first. If you grabbed the front of Harry's shirt before he wrapped an arm around your waist and fisted your hair in his other hand. But none of it mattered when your mouth met his, when your hands traveled up to cup the sides of his face, your thumbs tracing the familiar planes of his face.

A graze of his teeth against your bottom lip had you gasping, had him smiling as if that was the exact reaction he'd been hoping for. You responded in kind by dragging your nails down his scalp, satisfied by the groan that vibrated against your mouth as his tongue caressed yours.

"This isn't—It's not—" you tried to say, losing focus as Harry left a trail of kisses from your jaw to the base of your neck and back up again. "This doesn't mean—"

"I know," Harry breathed, his forehead pressed against yours as he toyed with the bow that held the front of your blouse together. Your breath hitched as his knuckle grazed your exposed stomach. "This doesn't change anything. Now take this off."

You almost made him do it just because he ordered you to, but you knew why he wanted you to be the one to untie the knot of your blouse. It meant you were saying yes to this moment, it meant you were saying yes to doing whatever it was you were about to do.

So you pulled at the blouse until it came undone, leaving it open so it revealed a strip of bare skin going right up the middle of your body. The rest you would leave up to him.

Harry shrugged out of his own sweater and t-shirt before reaching out to push back the shoulders of your shirt until it was off completely, falling into a puddle of fabric at your feet beside his. His gaze alone was too much and not enough, more explicit than it had any right to be. He stood there and drank you in for a full minute as if in a daze, taking in every mark and imperfect like he was reacquainting himself.

It was hard to get the words out, but you managed. "Still broken up?"

"Yeah," Harry said, his eyes still roving over every inch of your body that he could see. Then he blinked as if remembering the situation for what it was. "Yeah, still broken up."

There wasn't much left to say after that, really.

[dragon-kazansky]

Bridgerton shade of blue

Benedict Bridgerton x Female Reader

The Viscount is set on finding a wife this season, and you are trying again for your second season. While Anthony is dealing with trials between Edwina and Kate Sharma, you are dealing with trials of your own. Benedict Bridgerton is ever present in your life, but your pursuit to find a husband must come first. Society is ever so exhausting.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Season Two

Chapter Twenty Two - The races

As the races were in the afternoon, you had accepted Violet's invitation to join her at her home. As she had sworn to look after you, you were sure she would be eager to hear of your caller.

She greets you with a smile as you enter the drawing room, calling for tea and ushering you to come sit down with her. She starts the conversation by telling you that Eloise was still being rather difficult and that Anthony had gone to call upon Miss Edwina.

You just hoped Edwina could handle Anthony. Though, from what you heard in Lady Whistledown, it was the sister he would have to worry about.

When Benedict steps into the drawing room, he is surprised to see you. He had not expected to see you, unaware his mother had invited you. Not that he should be surprised. Violet Bridgerton was fond of you. That much he did know.

"Good morning."

You look up and see him pass you with his sketchbook.

"Good morning."

Benedict slumps down in a chair opposite you and opens his book, sketching away. He doesn't look at you much. You choose to ignore his brief greeting and share your news with Violet.

"I had a caller this morning."

Violet sits up with excitement and reaches for your hand. "Who?"

"Lord Baxtor."

You don't notice the way Benedict stops his sketching to secretly listen. Violet looks beyond pleaded.

"I hear he has quite a fortune." Violet hums softly. "I believe he is quite studious, too."

"He will be escorting me at the races this afternoon. I am to meet him there." You smile brightly. Violet can tell you're excited.

"That is wonderful news, dear. Do you need anything?"

"Will you perhaps chaperone? Racing is not quite my mother's interest, and it would bring me great comfort to know someone I trust is near."

"Of course."

Benedict continues his sketching. He's not sure why it irked him so much to know you have a gentleman escorting you to the races. Why shouldn't you have a caller? It's what you wanted all along.

Penelope arrives in a cheerful yellow dress, as usual. It certainly brightens up the room. She offers you a smile before joining Eloise at the table. In Eloise's hands is the latest Whistledown paper.

"Is that a copy of Lady Whistledown?" Pen asks Eloise, pretending not to realise right away.

"It is."

"I thought we were done with her."

"Do not discourage her, Penelope," Violet chimes in. "If she has taken an interest in Lady Whistledown again, perhaps it means she's interested in what she had to say about the season's available gentlemen too."

"I cannot think of a cleverer way to say this, but no." Eloise sighs. "Her latest is not exactly the philosophical treatise on the rights of the fairer sex u was hoping for, but--"

"Come now, I do not think Lady Whistledown has changed her entire style of writing wince her last issue," Penelope says.

"Perhpad not. But perhaps she still can."

"Perhaps she does not want to. Perhaps she is quite content. And if she's even sparked your renewed interest, El, then perhaps whatever she is doing is working."

You smile at Penelope's passion.

"Yes, but she could do so much more," Eloise says. "I know I could convince her of it. If I were to find her this time."

"What you must find, my dear, is happiness," Violet chimes in. "Penelope, assist me here. Eloise could find that with someone, could she not?"

I believe she could. And not Lady Whistledown, but someone more like-- Colin."

"My brother?" Eloise looks at her friend confused.

"No, not Coli-- Colin!" Penelope stands up. You turned around to see Colin Bridgerton entering the room. You stand up, also.

"Glad to see things have not changed," he says.

You get up to greet him. "Hello!"

"Brother!"

"Colin!"

Benedict and Violet do the same as you.

"Could you set aside the latest family squabble and embrace me?" Colin teases. Eloise hugs her brother with a happy chuckle. Violet hugs him next. He then pulls you into a hug, too. You chuckle softly.

"I did not expect you to return so soon, dearest," Violet says to him, taking in the sight of her son.

"Well, I missed you all. What can I say?" He grins. You step back as he hugs his brother. As Benedict steps back, Colin looks at Penelope. She smiles at him.

Hyacinth and Gregory then enter the room and hug their brother, having missed him dearly.

"I must get you to the doctor post haste," Benedict says. "This strange, fizzy growth on your chin is no doubt some kind of disease."

You chuckle softly. Benedict smiles proudly. He likes it when you laugh.

"And you seem to have taken to the sun toom how peculiar," Francesca comments, coming up beside her brother.

"I think he looks distinguished," Penelope comments.

"And where, may I ask, is our intrepid viscount?" Colin asks.

"He is..."

Anthony appears right at that moment. You're surprised to see him.

"...back from courting already," Violet says, also surprised to see him.

"Colin! You are returned. Even better." Anthony greets his brother. "Family, I should like you all to ready yourselves for the races today. We will be attending, united as one."

Violet once again seems surprised, yet happily so.

You chuckle softly. "I best get home and change then. I shall see you all there, I hope." You look around. Anthony nods. Penelope does, too. You smile at her and pat her shoulder gently as you pass her.

You don't even glance at Benedict.

You arrive at the races and find Lord Baxtor waiting for you. He smiles as he offers you his arm, and you both head off to place bets on horses.

It's a beautiful sunny afternoon, and you were very much looking forward to your day out. Your mother trails behind you a ways as you walk with Baxtor.

Once the bets are placed, you walk through the crowds. It was certainly a busy day.

"I am hoping you're my lucky charm today," he says, smiling brightly.

"Oh? I'm honoured," you chuckle.

He looks at you with a grin. "It was certainly be a good sign for the future, no?"

"If we win?"

"Absolutely."

You chuckle again. "It's a lot of pressure relying on the horse."

"I think he shall pull through."

You find his confidence in the animal rather charming. If the horse were to be the deciding factor of this courtship, then you hoped it would pull through. Jonathan Baxtor certainly thought so.

As you stroll, you spot the Sharma sisters. Edwina is attached at the arm with a fine gentleman. Lumley, you believe his name to be. Kate catches your eye and you smile at her, she returns the gesture.

Kate is beautiful. She is wearing a dark blue dress with matching accessories in her hair and blue netted gloves on her hands.

Edwina is in all pink. She looks very pretty, too. Gentle.

"Friends of yours?" Baxtor asks.

"Not quite yet. I met them at Lady Danbury's soiree. I'm keen to know them, however. They seem like good people to know."

"Miss Edwina Sharma looks very pretty today."

"She does.

"Though my eye is still drawn to you," Baxtor smiles. You find yourself looking away with a blush. This man certainly knew what to say.

"Shall we find our seats?"

"A splendid idea."

You chuckle softly as he guides you along toward the track.

You're far too occupied to see Benedict watching from a distance. He was standing with his brothers. His blue eyes follow you until you're out of sight. Anthony nudges him, and Benedict snaps out of it.

"You're staring."

"No, I wasn't."

Anthony gives him a look, and Benedict sighs. He turns his eyes away and spots Mondrich approaching. He decides to greet him quickly to stop his brother from mentioning anything else.

You sit with Baxtor and talk quietly as people gather to find their seats. You watch the horses walk along the fence with their riders.

"Beautiful, are they not?"

"Yes, very."

"Do you ride?" He asks.

"Not very well. We don't have any horses." You admit that rather shyly.

"Fear not. I would be glad to teach you one day," he smiles. "That is, if you are interested."

"Very much."

As the Bridgerton family take their seats, Benedict's attention is drawn to a choice nearby. His eyes find you sitting a row below him off to the right. You're talking closely with Lord Baxtor.

Anthony has left their side to go meddle with the Sharma's, hoping to get close to Miss Edwina, and Colin does not care enough for his brother's brooding to shake him from it.

Benedict watches you from his seat in a slight huff. He should have asked you to come with him, but he hadn't even thought about it until it was too late.

Why should it matter so much who you come with? No. He can't deny it. He misses you. He misses your company. He wants his friend back by his side.

You laugh at something Baxtor says and Benedict has to look away. He can't stand watching any longer.

It isn't much longer until the bell tolls and the horses are off. You and Baxtor watch with excitement and eagerness as the horses run. You both cheer along with the crowd. He is amused by your excitement.

High Flyer crosses the finish line first and you cheer.

Benedict watches the way you grab onto Baxtor's arm in excitement. He immediately has to look away. Luckily, Eloise, who was beside him, is a fine distraction as she cheers in excitement, too.

If only he could feel as thrilled.

"She is pompous and arrogant and quite sure she knows best in every situation."

Benedict was fencing with his brothers when Anthony decided to moan about the eldest Sharma sister.

"She sounds like a terrible nuisance," Colin comments, having just spared with his brother. He gets into a stance to parry again with Anthony.

"Especially since you are the one who knows best in every situation," Benedict says, watching his brothers.

Anthony disarms Colin.

"And the victor of every match today," Colin points out.

"Less talking, more fencing, Brother."

Colin picks up the sword and gives it to Benedict, who gets into position. "Good luck," he sighs.

"Ready?" Benedict asks.

Anthony raises the sword, and they begin.

"Do you know why I win every time?" Anthont asks.

"Because every time you lose, you claim we cheated."

Anthony wins.

"Because I know my duties. What my purposes are and how to obtain them. Which I will do when I make Miss Edwina my viscountess."

Benedict loses again.

Not even his anger at the image of you and Baxtor was enough to fuel his duel with Anthony.

"Miss Edwina and I are well-suited. She is a lovely young lady. She wishes for children. She'll make a perfectly agreeable wife."

"What he means to say is that he has already dismissed every other young lady in town," Benedict states.

"You are one to talk."

"Whatever do you mean?" Benedict asks.

"The one woman in all of London you hold so dear, and yet you are not courting her."

Benedict swings his sword. "She is not mine to court."

"Is that jealousy, I sense?" Anthony teases.

"No."

Benedict swings, but Anthony outsmarts him. "Is she not of interest to you? Or perhaps you are simply not ready."

"Hush, Brother. It is not of your concern."

Benedict loses again.

"You take too much upon yourself, brother." Colin says, watching Anthony. "Perhaps your life might be easier if you persued someone with a less disagreeable sister."

"Why should I be the one to admit defeat?" Anthony asks him, getting rather worked up. "Regardless of which young lady I have chosen to pursue, there would have always been some obstinate father or meddlesome aunt into the picture. I shall certainly not let some sister, especially one younger than me, keep me from getting what it is I want."

"Whom you want, you mean?" Benedict swings again getting Anthony on the arm.

"Is this still a friendly match, or do we need to find armor?" Colin asks.

"That is what you don't understand, Brother. Benedict honours me by holding nothing back. As I now honour him."

They get into position again and then fence once more. Anthony knocks Benedict onto his backside.

"What honour."

Anthony helps Benedict up onto his feet. He gives him a knowing look, but Benedict shakes his head. Anthony simply chuckles.

"Thank you, gentlemen, for the bracing exertion. Now, it is time for me to secure my final victory for the day. Wish me luck."

Anthony walks off. The two brothers watch him go.

They spar between themselves.

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[jewishvitya]

I'm annoyed, I need to vent. I keep seeing this "a few bad apples" kind of attitude:

The reply isn't wrong. Yes, he's considered an extremist. Just like Ben-Gvir is considered an extremist. Just like Smotrich is considered an extremist.

Ben-Gvir and Smotrich got 10% of the votes in the last elections.

Just a bit ago someone sent me a video of Smotrich calling for genocide and asked me "are those subtitles real?" Because people check with me for Hebrew. And it was real. He said, explicitly, "Rafah, Deir al Balah, Nuseirat, total extermination." None of this is surprising from them. They've always been like this, this isn't new, and they won 10% of votes.

Often on posts by myself or other anti-zionist Israelis, especially posts showing protests, I see people saying "remember the people aren't the government" and yes, that's true, we're not, it's so important to remember that. But it's so infuriating to me when I see people talking like Israeli society wants to reach fairness and justice and coexistence and politicians are getting in the way. Like we aren't in line with our government on a lot. Why, because we hate Netanyahu?

Hating Netanyahu means nothing. I know people who hate Netanyahu so they voted for Bennett, who is further right than him. I know people who hate Netanyahu because he isn't brutal enough for them, they think he's holding back, they'd want someone like Ben-Gvir or Smotrich to be Prime Minister. I don't know many people who hate Netanyahu for being too far to the right. The biggest group are on the same page as him in terms of what the goal is (no Palestinian state), they just think he's doing a bad job of it and he's too corrupt. They're good with the Likkud, they just want to get rid of Netanyahu and his people, and then the party will be fixed in their eyes.

That's why, for me the next question I always want to ask is, who are we voting for. Which policies are we voting for. And the left-leaning political parties don't get voters.

In Israel "left" and "right" are practically decided according to opinions about Palestine. You could be pro-LGBTQ, pro socialist policies, pro all sorts of lefty ideas, but if you're right wing on Palestine you'll call yourself a right winger in Israel. I knew an antifeminist pro-capitalist MRA incel who considers himself a leftist because he supports a Palestinian state. I am not exaggerating, I'm not making up a character, I met him a few years ago through shared friends, he visited my apartment at some point.

So when I'm saying leftist parties don't get votes, that's because Israeli society broadly agrees with the right wing ABOUT PALESTINE. It's the first priority most of us have when voting. And we don't vote for anything that has a chance to improve their lives, because we're scared. We want to keep them in check.

Israelis are in denial about the fascism in our own society, so those who are too explicit about it, too outspoken about being nationalist, are just... "who can take them seriously?" All while they have the support of 1 out of 10 Israelis.

I'm not saying "assume that every Israeli is evil, you should want us all dead." Just... we're in denial about our own society, and it drives me crazy when people pretend like the problem isn't as big as it is.

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

It's a bit long - maybe it a two-parter? But reader is in love with Eddie and tries to show him, sending him love notes in his locker but he thinks (hopes) they are from Chrissy so she decides to just give up, thinking he will never see her like that so she distances herself completely and he doesn't understand why - she even changes direction when they are about to run into each other in the corridor - and when he finally manages to confront her she just tells him "You won't ever love me like I love you so I am just trying to move on" and he's like "well, how do you know that, you've never given me a chance to love you, you just bailed when I didn't realize you were the one sending the notes!"

Request by @somethingvicked 💞

Angst, fluff, pining.

💞

For the last two weeks you had a secret. It was something you hadn't told anyone, not even Robin.

The note in your pocket is carefully sealed in an envelope that you are going to try and sneak in Eddie's locker.

In the last few weeks you have been leaving love notes for your long time crush Eddie Munson. You had poured your heart out in the notes, it was cathartic. A way to express your feelings that were bursting to be let out and it was nice to watch the sweet smile on Eddie's face when he read the notes.

They were all signed anonymously and you disguised your handwriting just enough so that Eddie wouldn't notice it was you. To be honest you were trying to build up the courage to confess to him.

Cautiously you look around and there is a rare occurrence where the hallway is pretty much empty so you quickly rush over to Eddie's locker and slip the note in.

Heart hammering you hurry away from the locker and feel nerves swirl in your stomach. This note was different, a lot more detailed and lovey dovey than the others, you couldn't help it. You were head over heels for Eddie and even though the notes were anonymous, it felt cathartic to say how you felt.

When Eddie finds the latest note at lunch time, the whole of Hellfire is gently teasing him. His cheeks are pink but his eyes are full of excitement, and an anxiousness to know who they are from.

"Who's going to send this doofus love notes though really?" Gareth jokes and ducks to miss the pretzel thrown at his head while laughing his head off.

Then Eddie perks up, smiles dreamily and sighs. "Hey maybe they are from Chrissy?" He looks so hopeful and the words immediately crush any thoughts that you had in which he might feel the same.

Chrissy. He wanted it to be Chrissy, of course he did. She was the sweetest and prettiest girl in Hawkins High, there was no way that Eddie was immune to her charms.

It hurt you though. All this time he talked about not conforming and yet he falls for the beauty queen. Not that you could be too mad at him, it's not like anyone could help who they fell for. You wish you could have that power, to erase these feelings you have for Eddie.

The thoughts still make you feel faintly nauseated and you get up suddenly, "Sorry guys, uh headache'' it's all you can do not to run out of the cafeteria while blinking away tears.

Thank god no one saw you crying. Then you'd really have no way to explain yourself.

That night you're laying in bed and listening to the most angsty music you can find, your thoughts racing about what happened today and stomach churning at what it meant.

You knew deep down that Eddie might not feel the same and at least that was confirmed. It was time to stop indulging in dumb fantasies, it felt like the small bit of hope you had clung onto had faded and now you had given up. Eddie was never going to see you as anything more than a friend.

Maybe it was the push you needed to move on? Or at least distance yourself a tiny bit until these feelings faded.

But how long would that take? The thought of not seeing Eddie every day is awful, you don't know what to do and the worry and despair keeps you up all night.

By the morning you feel numb but full of acceptance at what you need to do.

💌

Distancing yourself from Eddie was hard. He was so ingrained in your usual routines, you were so used to seeing him practically every day that there was this ache in your chest that he wasn't around.

It didn't help that Eddie looked at you like a lost puppy and it shook your resolve every time. You missed the guys at Hellfire too, instead of your usual spot at the table you talked to Robin or Nancy, aware of eyes on you when you didn't sit down beside Eddie.

It was a catch-22, you desperately wanted these feelings to go away so things were back to normal but you missed Eddie like crazy, it felt like a piece of you was missing.

When you saw him in the corridor today, you froze and went in the other direction but you didn't miss the look on his face when you did. It was so hurt and it crushed your heart even more.

You couldn't leave things like this, you would have to say something. Eddie must be so confused and you didn't want to hurt him. But how could you explain how you felt about him, that you're the one who sent the notes?

What if finding out how you felt ruined your friendship? What if what you were doing was ending it, honestly your mind was racing a mile a minute.

Shit you haven't sent any notes in over a week, you didn't want Eddie to get his hopes up wishing it was Chrissy only to be disappointed that it was you.

Obviously you and Eddie really need to talk. Eddie must be thinking the same thing because he shows up at your house around an hour later with a determined look in his eyes.

He's angry and you can't blame him. If the situation was reversed you would feel the same. His furious gaze softens as he takes in your tears.

"Why have you been avoiding me?" His tone is gentler than you'd expect and that makes you feel worse. God you've missed him, you've really missed him.

"I'm sorry" you murmured and made your decision to tell Eddie about the notes, hoping that he wouldn't hate you. "Eddie, I-" he speaks before you can get the words out.

"I know it's you sending the notes" oh...oh shit. You're nervous so that makes you babble and grow even more flustered because you don't know how Eddie would react.

"How?" is the last question you ask and he smiles, all dimples. The smile that you love.

"When you started avoiding me after I said I hoped the notes were from Chrissy, the look on your face...I'm not stupid sweetheart, it became pretty obvious" so much for thinking that you had covered up your feelings, you should have realised eddie would figure it out.

He could be annoyingly perceptive. "I know you don't feel the same Eddie, you're panicking now so you're basically word vomiting, "I've been trying to get over these feelings so that's why I've been distant, I'm sorry"

He frowns, "Sweetheart, I don't want you to avoid me" you bite your lip, emotions rushing to the surface. Frustrated you wipe the tears that are building in your eyes.

"I don't know what else to do Eddie! You won't ever love me like I love you so I am just trying to move on, I'm trying to do that so I don't mess up our friendship" you choke on the words and try to stop the tears that are blurring your eyes. he stares at you looking absolutely stunned.

"You love me?" his voice is so small and you swear there's a hopeful edge to it but you must just be imagining it.

"Yeah, I'm the one who's been sending the notes, but you wanted it to be Chrissy and like I said you don't love me like I love you so I need to move on" Eddie groan exasperated and runs his hand through his hair in frustration. It tugs on his unruly curls and he groans, once his hand is free, he's gesturing widely.

"Well how do you know that? You've never given me the chance to love you, you just bailed when I didn't realise you were the one sending the notes" he snaps and you're seriously frustrated.

"Because you wanted it to be Chrissy! And give you a chance to love me? You either love me or you don't Eddie. I can't just sit around on the off chance that you might feel the same way when you obviously don't"

Tears roll down your cheeks and you wipe them away shakily, you're emotionally spent and you just want to go home and have some time for yourself.

Eddie softens and his hands are on your shoulder, soothing and tender. "You're not listening, I want a chance to love you because I am in love with you"

Oh... "You do, you reply hopeful and he nods, keeping his gaze on you. What about Chrissy?" he shakes his head and his hand moves up to caress your cheek, his gaze is soft and full of adoration.

"Just a dumb crush. I'm over her now. What I feel for you...you're all I think about sweetheart, shit I think almost losing you helped give me a uh, knock on the head" you giggle and he ducks his head looking almost shy.

"Can I kiss you?" you nod eagerly and it doesn't take long for his lips to meet yours. Eddie pulls away after a few seconds and looks completely blissed out. It's exactly how you feel. Wow.

"Shit, I am an idiot, could have been doing that for a while now if I wasn't so oblivious" you stifle a smile and he's grinning too, smiling as he kisses you again.

And again. Showing you how much he loves you.

💞💌

[azzifudd]

i don't wanna see you with anyone but me

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

summary: Azzi gets nervous before games. She always has. No matter how low or high the stakes, whether it’s a regular season game against a team clearly a cut below her own or the state championships, the moment she sets foot on the court, her palms break out into a sweat and her stomach churns with nerves.

Today though, she’s not nervous at all. She’s pissed.

rated: teen

3.0k words

disclaimer: as always, this is fictional

[AO3 Link]

Azzi gets nervous before games. She always has. No matter how low or high the stakes, whether it’s a regular season game against a team clearly a cut below her own or the state championships, the moment she sets foot on the court, her palms break out into a sweat and her stomach churns with nerves.

Today though, she’s not nervous at all. She’s pissed. It’s already been a bad morning. Early morning games are always tough on the team, and they’d gotten to the hotel late last night because of an expected traffic jam, leading to even less sleep.

And now, instead of helping her warm up and hyping her up like she normally is, Paige is at the opposite end of the court giggling with some girl on the other team.

They only have a few weeks left together before Paige has to go home, and instead of being with Azzi, she’s off flirting with someone else.

Azzi takes another shot, grunting when it bounces off the rim. The ref finally blows his whistle, signaling the teams to line up for tip off. Paige starts to walk back toward their side of the court, but not before that girl says goodbye with a hand pressed to Paige’s arm.

Azzi’s petty enough that she pretends she doesn’t see Paige’s offered high five before she runs onto the court.

Azzi plays like a woman possessed. By the time the final buzzer sounds, they’re up 25 points after her efficient 33.

“Okay, killa!” When Paige bounds up to her, bumping into her with her chest and trying to wrap her arms around her, she shrugs her off.

“Why don’t you go comfort your new friend?” Azzi heads to the bench to take a much needed drink of water. Paige trails close behind her.

“What are you talking about?”

“Her.” Azzi flicks her head in the girl’s direction. Azzi has to admit she’s pretty; with dark skin, dark hair, and big brown eyes. She’d probably enjoyed it a little too much when her crossover had landed the girl on her ass, but like she’s said, she’s petty.

“Why would I do that? I don’t even know her.” Paige looks dumbfounded.

“You seemed to know her well enough that you spent all of pregame talking to her instead of helping me warm up.” She tries to keep her voice low, knowing that their voices would echo easily in the gym no matter how loud the other games were.

“She said she was a fan! I was just being nice!” Paige crowds into her space, voice defensive.

“Oh, I’m sure you were.”

“Azzi, come on, you’re being crazy.”

Azzi sees red, elbowing Paige in the stomach, pushing her lanky body out of the way easily. “Get away from me.”

“Fine!” Paige throws up her hands. “Come find me when you’re done being crazy.”

The rest of the day drags as they have to take the long drive home together in the car with Azzi’s family. Her parents clearly want nothing to do with their drama, ignoring the two ticking time bombs in the backseat.

When they finally make it back to the house, Azzi storms inside, slamming her bedroom door behind her.

“So… what happened, big dawg?” Tim asks Paige as she helps him unload their bags from the car.

“I didn’t even do anything!” Paige huffs, frustrated.

“I didn’t say you did.” He replies, patient.

Paige hesitates, suddenly feeling awkward about talking about this with her what are they? her girl? her Azzi’s dad, but he stops her before she has to.

“You don’t have to tell me the details, but give her some time to cool down, and then just talk to her. You know how she can be, I mean both of you are stubborn as hell, but when has she ever stayed mad at you for long?

That’s true. It’s one of the things that Paige likes the most about Azzi, that no matter how annoying Paige is being, Azzi still wants her around.

When they’re done unpacking, Paige goes to find Azzi. She stops in the kitchen to grab some reinforcements. When she gets to Azzi’s door, she hesitates. She’s never had to knock before. But before she even needs to, it opens.

She and Azzi stare at each other for a moment before they’re both blurting out, “I’m sorry.”

Then they’re both giggling and Azzi pulls Paige into her room, shutting the door behind her.

“I brought this, in case you were still mad at me.” Paige holds up a cartoon of ice cream and a spoon.

“Only one spoon?”

“In case you were still mad at me,” Paige repeats. Azzi laughs and tugs Paige over to sit on the bed, where they take turns eating bites of the ice cream.

“I’m sorry I called you crazy.” Paige says, wincing as she remembers it. “I shoulda seen how upset you were.”

“And I’m sorry that I overreacted when I saw you talking to someone else.” Azzi twists her fingers together. “I just got so mad when I saw you talking to her. And I know how popular you are, and you deserve every bit of it, but…”

Paige just waits because she knows Azzi needs to talk it out herself, and that she just needs Paige to listen.

“I know it’s selfish, but part of me just wants to keep you to myself. Because as soon as everyone finds out about you, they’re gonna want you.” Azzi glances at Paige then, almost certain she’ll see a cocky grin on her face, but Paige just listens.

Paige gets it. Sometimes someone can just look at Azzi for a second too long and it makes her want to just take Azzi and hide her away. But she can’t, so she just reaches out to hold Azzi’s hand.

There are so many things she wishes she could say to Azzi, things that she can barely stand to consider because they scare the shit out of her.

So she just settles for saying the one thing she knows to be true.

“I’m yours.”

Paige watches Azzi blush, stunned and speechless.

“Can I kiss you now? Lowkey it was so hot how jealous you got.” Paige laughs when Azzi pushes her with a hand to her face.

But then that same hand is gripping at her collar and pulling her on top of Azzi and then there’s no more talking.

//

It’s a Friday night, and Paige is sober.

It’s not the most uncommon occurrence, not anymore. After her ACL, she has learned to be a bit more responsible, a bit more grown up. So when the girls had decided to go out that night, she volunteered to be DD.

And if that gives her a chance to watch over Azzi a little more closely she will take it. The younger girl has been acting off in the past weeks. On the outside, she doubts that anyone else has noticed, but she almost knows Azzi better than she knows herself.

It becomes even clearer that something’s wrong when Azzi returns over and over to the bar, taking way more shots than she usually does.

And now, a few hours into their night, she has disappeared. It’s a small bar, in a small town, so Paige isn’t too worried, but Azzi has never been one to wander off, and especially not on her own.

Paige pokes her head through the door to the back patio which consists of a few picnic tables, lit up with fairy lights. She almost heads back inside when she hears a familiar laugh from the far end of the patio.

When her eyes adjust to the light, she sees Azzi sitting on a table, a tall form looming over her.

“Azzi!” She barks out, strides long as she rushes forward. The figure steps back from her friend, and Paige vaguely recognizes her as one of the members of the girls volleyball team.

“What?!” Azzi fires back, stopping Paige in her tracks.

“What are you doing? Who is this?”

“I’m talking to a friend.” Paige fights the familiar twist in her stomach at the sight of Azzi’s hand on the other girl’s arm. “Is that okay with you? Or are you the only one allowed to flirt with every woman who throws themselves at you?”

Paige feels like she’s been punched in the gut. She sees a hint of regret on Azzi’s face before she turns her head away.

The stranger looks like she would rather be anywhere else, and Paige would be more embarrassed if she wasn’t so focused on Azzi.

“I’ll see you in class, Azzi?” When Azzi gives a jerky nod in response, the girl takes her leave, giving Paige a cold look as she goes.

Azzi’s eyes are glassy, her cheeks obviously flushed even under the dim lights. She takes a heaving breath, face turned away while she clearly fights tears, and Paige hates that she is the reason for her best friend’s pain.

“Az-” Her hands reach up to find their usual place at Azzi’s waist, but she freezes when Azzi flinches away from her. Her fists clench as she drops them at her side.

“Am I not enough?”

“What?” Paige chokes out. The thought is inconceivable. She reaches out again, grasping at where Azzi has wrapped her arms around herself.

Azzi still isn’t looking her in the eye.

“Azzi, come on.” Paige sighs in relief when Azzi allows her touch, hands warm against the skin exposed by her crop top.

Azzi’s eyes brim with tears. “Can we just forget I said anything?”

That’s when Paige knows something really might be wrong. Azzi is always the one pulling her out of her shell when she’s upset, and she wasn’t usually one to hide her own feelings.

“It’s just us. Me and you.” Paige brings one hand up to cup her jaw and brings their gazes together. “Talk to me. We promised that we’d always talk to each other.”

Azzi takes a deep, steadying breath. And then another.

“I know that we agreed when you came here that we’d pull back and keep it more casual.”

You wanted that! Paige wants to say, but she can’t deny that she took advantage of it, loved it at times even. She can’t deny that sometimes it was nice to be able to talk to, flirt with, and kiss girls who didn’t hold the power to crush her with one word.

But none of those girls ever made her feel even half of how Azzi did, like she could conquer the world if only Azzi was at her side, holding her hand.

“And I know that we decided last year that it was best for the team and for everyone if we just.. didn’t complicate things.”

She keeps it unspoken that it was never that simple, and that it had tested their relationship more than ever having each other so close, but being unable to really be together the way they both hoped the other wanted. And then the season had ended with that devastating loss, and neither of them had had the emotional capacity to deal with all of it.

And then her ACL had happened, and just when Paige had thought that she couldn’t be forced any lower, there was Azzi. Azzi, who had just shown up to hold her, and let her yell and cry, and not be okay, for once.

It still sucks, and there are days where she’s so desperate to play that she cries, but she’s not alone in it. She’ll never be alone again, not as long as she has Azzi. And she knows now, sure as anything, that Azzi is all she’ll ever want.

“I thought something had changed between us this summer, and I’ve been waiting for you to be ready, to tell me you were ready.”

Paige feels like this is a conversation she has been waiting to have for a very long time.

“Do you know what my first thought was the first time I saw you? ”

Azzi huffs in frustration. “What are you talking about?”

“I saw you shoot a basketball for the first time, and thought, damn, I have to play with her, and then I did, and it was better than I even imagined it would be. Then I got to sit next to you on that plane, and got to really know you, and then I knew that I just wanted you in my life forever. So don’t ever think that you’re not enough. You’re all I’ve wanted since I was sixteen years old.”

Azzi’s eyes shimmer with tears, but the smile on her face is radiant. Paige tugs her even closer by the waist until Azzi hooks her arms around her shoulders.

“I wish I was as good with words as you are,” Azzi says, pressing their foreheads together. “I wish I could tell you what you mean to me.”

But Paige doesn’t need Azzi to say it. She can feel it in the way Azzi’s heart pounds against her chest where they are pressed together. She can see it in the way her lips tremble like they’re about to kiss for the first time.

And she can feel it in the way Azzi presses their lips together, like she never wants to stop, like breathing matters less than kissing her.

//

Paige is unzipping her luggage when her phone rings with a Facetime call from KK. She taps accept and as the screen fills with an image, she realizes it isn’t a normal call.

The angle is askew and the camera is out of focus showing a gym with a few figures in the distant background. Somehow KK must’ve accidentally called her. She hears KK’s voice loud and clear joking around with someone with an Australian accent. She smiles, happy that her little freshman is getting along with everyone at the Dawg Camp. She almost hangs up the call when the camera focuses itself and the figures in the background become clear.

They’re a bit far away, but Paige would recognize that form anywhere. Azzi stands at the opposite court putting up shots, though her feet stay planted on the ground. Her stroke is still smooth as butter though, and she’s so strong that the shots swish through the net even if she can’t get off the ground yet.

Someone’s under the net, someone tall with dirty blonde hair, rebounding for Azzi, and she says something, too quiet for Paige to hear from this far away, but she does hear Azzi’s responding laugh.

The sound, one of Paige’s favorite sounds, one that normally never fails to bring a smile to Paige’s face, instead sends an uncontrollable roll of unease through her gut.

She knows it’s irrational, to still get jealous when someone else makes Azzi smile. She’s never been more secure in their relationship than she is now, but apparently that jealous part of her is still alive as she squints down angrily at her phone, watching fucking Kate Martin?! standing way too close to her girl.

“What the hell?” She mutters, and then the phone is moving and KK’s face fills the screen.

“Oh, what the? P. Boogers! My bad, how long have you been on my phone?”

“Kamorea!”

KK jumps from the unexpected growl in Paige’s voice. “Damn what’s gotten up your butt? Say hi to Georgia.”

“Hi,” Paige says, brusquely. She swipes the FaceTime to the corner of the screen, tapping open Instagram and navigating to Azzi’s profile.

“Jeez, tough crowd.” She hears Georgia say as she taps on Azzi’s following, scoffing when she sees Azzi’s most recent follow.

“Dude, lemme talk to Azzi.”

“Y’all fightin’ or somethin’? She seemed all goofy after she talked to you last night.” KK thinks for a second. “Oh was it because you were cheesin’ at those dancers?”

“What?” Paige sputters. “I was just being polite!”

“Mm, sure.”

“Whatever, just let me talk to her, bro come on.” Paige nods, impatiently.

KK rolls her eyes, but still walks down the court. “Azzi,” she calls out. “Dumbass on the line for you.”

Paige watches Azzi’s face come into focus, first looking confused before a smile blooms on her face, dimple creasing her cheek.

“Babe, hey.”

Paige feels all the uncertainty and jealousy just fade away at the sight of that smile.

“Hey,” she replies, softly.

“Did something happen?” Azzi’s brow creases with worry, and she walks a bit away so they can speak in a more private spot.

“No,” Paige lies, suddenly embarrassed about how much she overreacted. “I just miss you.”

“Paige.” Azzi's smile grows even wider. “You called KK to tell her how much you missed me? You just saw me like two days ago.”

“Well, she pocket dialed me, and I saw you, so-” She cuts herself off. ��Yeah.”

“I miss you too, dummy.”

Azzi’s smile is softer now, the sight of it fills Paige’s chest with warmth, so different from the mess of emotions she felt just minutes ago. Azzi has always been that for Paige, her safe place, her peace, her home.

Paige hears the noise in the background pick up and Azzi looks up, past the camera.

“You gotta go?”

“I’ll call you later?”

“You better.” Paige smirks and Azzi rolls her eyes fondly.

“Okay, I gotta go.”

“Wait,” Azzi pauses with a finger over the screen. “Is Martin still there?”

Azzi looks confused, but she still calls out, “Kate!”

Kate appears over Azzi’s shoulder, looking slightly puzzled at being summoned, but with a friendly smile anyways. “Hey, Paige.”

“Hey, how are ya?”

“Good, happy to be here, you know? Just taking it all in. Azzi’s been really nice about helping me actually. Since she’s been here before.” Kate smiles at Azzi, who returns it.

“Yeah, she’s pretty great, huh?” Paige winks and Azzi snorts softly. But then she says, voice serious, “Keep an eye on her for me, would ya? She doesn’t like to ask for help for herself sometimes.”

“You got it, Paige. Good to see you.” Kate jogs off to join the others in the now starting scrimmage.

When Paige looks back to Azzi, she almost blushes at the look in her eye.

“You’re always taking care of me.”

“Well, I kinda love you a little, so.” Paige scratches the bridge of her nose, feeling bashful all of a sudden.

“I kinda love you a little too.”

[cinnasweetss]

to love and to cherish. | l.hs

genre: smut, very minimal plot, fluff (a pinch.)

characters: husband/dad!heeseung, wife/mom!reader, “uncle”!jake at the end, seung (reader & heeseung’s son)

wc: 2.8k

content below cut. (plz read…or you’ll be v surprised…)

content: established relationship, mentions of pregnancy & marriage, domestication, reader is a stay at home mom, body insecurity, body description, SLIGHTTTT dacryphilia, lactation, love making, tit play, pussy eating, unprotected sex, creampie, pet names (hun, love, baby, etc.), praise, etc etc…

A /N: i’m experimenting in my writing (still tame imo)! this might not be everyone’s cup of tea n that’s ok <3 thanks for reading!!

"dinner looks great, hun." heeseung slides in, slipping a hand around your waist from behind, pressing a kiss to your cheek.  it startles you, whipping your head around to him, soft smile plastered on his face. 

"Didn't hear you come in." you mumble, returning his smile before you continue the dishes. "Got you something." he pulls away, shuffling behind you, "give me a second, hee." you need to finish these dishes tonight. it'll be pain the ass tomorrow if you don't. "Did you put Seung to bed? Told you I wanted to see him, hun." he says, immediately noticing how quiet the house is tonight. lights dimmed, living room picked up and neat instead of the usual plethora of toys. "he got fussy." 

"Baby, come on-"  he nags, only because you have barely looked at him since he stepped in. no 'how was work, honey?' and a cheerful smile like usual. 

"Give me a minute, heeseung!" 

there's a long pause in the air, making you immediately regret raising your voice, dropping the plate in your hand back into the soapy water, "I'm sorry." 

heeseung told you to not let it get like that. he told you to not stress yourself out when you both found out you were pregnant. he knew this would happen. it was inevitable. but you promised him. "Look at me." 

"Oh, hee..." you immediately soften, face falling into your hands once you see the beautiful, huge bouquet of flowers in his hands. he sets the bouquet down on the island, quickly moving to wrap his arms around your crying figure. you quickly accept the embrace, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Why are you crying?" he chuckles, rubbing his hand on your back soothingly. "I'm sorry!" 

"It's okay, love." he pulls you off of him, wiping away your tears. "so pretty." he leans in to kiss you, using his thumbs to wipe the rest of the stray tears. 

Heeseung is so good to you. he always has been. when you met him six years ago, when you married him three years ago, and when you gave him his firstborn a year and a half ago.  his love has been unconditional, unwavering, always consistent. all you could ask for and more. 

"I told you not to stress yourself out. You can ask me for help." he's smiling, despite your continued tears. you feel so awful. "But you're working-" he stops you there, "so are you, love." he knows that being a stay at home mom is a lot, a lot more demanding than his silly little corporate job. "what are you handwashing the dishes for, anyway? we've got a dishwasher." 

"cause, it's a lot to run it..." he sighs, face shifting to a scowl. he hates when you talk about the price of things, bills, anything with money. "It's not, and that's not for you to worry about." it's firm, almost scolding. but you know it's just because of the many times he's had to tell you to not worry about the bills. not that you've seen one in years. 

"Get in bed. I'll finish up." he pulls away then, moving to the sink. you scurry behind him, grabbing a vase to put the flowers in. "Bed, babe. I'll do that too." 

"let me warm up your food-" he doesn't have to say much, turning with a dissatisfied expression across his face as he leans on the counter. "Get upstairs." you know better than to argue after the third time, so, you do as told.

...

he joins you just an hour later, walking in on you fumbling with the baby monitor, making sure it's on and working before you set it on the bedside table. he eyes you, wet hair stuck to your shoulders and neck, saturating the t shirt you have on. 

he grabs your hand, pulling you back to the bathroom. he places you infront of the mirror, reaching for the hair dryer in the cabinet. "Did you even towel dry it? you're soaking." 

"Thought I heard Seung crying..." you mumble, heeseung running a brush through your hair. "That hairdryer- Dyson. it's so expensive. you won't even use it."he grabs a towel, gently drying each lock of your hair, then your neck and shoulders. 

"I do use it!" five times since he got it for you during Christmas. You'd brought it up maybe once, showing him a video on TikTok of some influencer using it. it was probably the millionth video you'd showed him. still, he paid attention. "Sometimes." he agrees, flashing you a playful smile in the mirror. 

"you don't have work to do?" you look at him through the mirror, squeezing the water out of your hair with the towel. "Work? While i'm at home with my wife?" he turns on the hairdryer after, running it over your now damp hair. 

this week he's been coming home without his laptop. spending almost no time in his office downstairs, instead getting into bed with you every night after work. 

you hadn't said it out loud, but he knew you were bothered by sleeping first. sleeping next to an empty space that he only filled from the hours of 1am to 6am. disappearing into his office right after dinner. you continue watching him through the mirror, fond smile on you lips as he finishes. his eyes catch yours, mouthing a playful "what?" before he shifts his eyes back to your hair. 

he turns off the hair dryer, using a brush to smooth out the now dry hair. he guides you out the bathroom, stopping you in front of your shared dresser.

reaching for the bottom of your tee, he pulls it up, only stopping when you step back and push his hands away. "come on, you gotta get out of this. it's wet." 

"I'll do it." "Babe, really." 

you surrender at that, raising your arms so he can lift your shirt above your head and get you a new one. Only he has his gaze locked on yours...trying to remember the last time he was intimate with you. the last time he saw you undressed. you notice his expression change, unfamiliar glint in his eyes. 

had it really been that long? 

"What, hee? you're staring..." you ask worriedly, afraid he might not like what he sees. you damn sure don't look like the woman he married, not after having his child. 

each time you look in the mirror you're reminded, each time you look at your wedding pictures, each time you get naked infront of him, each time you look at your son. 

your arm lays against your chest, holding your breasts as you reach for another shirt. Heeseung's way quicker, grabbing your arm before you can reach it. "Wait."

his lips are on yours seconds later, pulling your body flush against his, trapping you in a very passionate kiss. 

you know what he wants when he kisses you like that. when he pulls you in by your waist and holds your cheek with one hand. when he lifts you up and takes you bed, placing you against the mattress softly. your stomach flutters with excitement, eager to experience a different type of intimacy with him.

he pulls away, pulling at his tie with one hand and letting it fall to the ground, undoing a few buttons of his shirt after.

he connects your lips again as wall as your groins, grinding softly through kisses. it's enough to get you worked up, moaning into the kiss when he gropes at a tit. 

he gives it some love with his mouth too, sucking one and squeezing the other. its enough to stimulate your ducts, breasts tingling as they secrete milk. he purposely squeezes a nipple, milk spilling from the ducts, as you squirm beneath him. his skilled hands force a moan from you, his tongue swirling as he sucks, likely making your other breast leak too. 

his hips rut against yours, grunting at the little bit of friction it gives. he's gotta get out of these slacks, and fast. he pulls his mouth away, kissing down your chest and abdomen, paying special attention to those areas he knows youre insecure about. 

your lower belly that's riddled with stretch marks and hips that look the same from carrying his child. he wouldn't trade you for the world, not when you've given him the best gift on gods earth. a family. 

he pulls your night shorts down with one motion, doing the same with your panties before he spreads your legs. his kisses move to your thighs, stopping when he reaches your core. he moves your hips to the edge of the bed, kneeling before you. "Fuck.." he feels his mouth water just looking, pushing your legs before he dips his head between your thighs. 

six years and every time feels like the first. six years and neither of you can get enough. 

he always takes his time, soft kisses against your pussy to start, soft licks against your clit when he slides his tongue through your folds, huge hands that knead at the flesh of your thighs to stimulate you even more. he gradually moves to sucking, tongue flat against the little bundle of nerves, forcing moan from you.

your eyes flutter closed, sinking further into the mattress as you reach for his hands. 

your fingers intertwine perfectly, much like they did the first time you two met in college. he was sweet then, he's even sweeter now. always, always so compassionate and caring, even more since you've gotten married. 

he watches from between your legs. eyes shut, brows furrowed, mouth agape as you let out the prettiest moans. matching the pretty expression you have. 

he knows you like the back of his hand, sucking your clit just how you like it. your back arching off the bed tells him so. especially when you remove a hand from his, sliding it through his hair instead to swirl your hips. 

"oh, god- hee!"

he can hear your breath quickening. short and shallow through endless curses as your orgasm builds. "fuck, baby, i'm cumming!" it hits you like a truck, heeseung moaning as you cum right on his tongue, nothing else. holding your hips steady so he can eat you through it. through the soft convulsions and quiet moans, hands that grip his and his hair. 

heeseung finally pulls his lips way, rising from the floor with lips coated in your arousal. he doesn't lick them, keeps them wet and moist so he can lean down and kiss you. he's letting you taste yourself as well, sliding his tongue past your lips to give you sloppy, wet kisses. 

you pull at his button up, pulling it from his slacks, moving to remove his belt right after. you pull away from the kiss, pulling at the buttons with frantic hands. "help me, hee..." you mumble, looking up at the man above you. he forces you both up, reaching to unbutton his pants as you work on those damn buttons. 

"take your time, darlin'. Im not going anywhere." he kisses your forehead gently, capturing your lips again once you finish. you push his shirt off his shoulders, only satisfied when you hear it make contact with the wood flooring below. "tell me how you want me." you barely manage to get out between kisses. he doesn't respond for a minute, focusing on kissing you before he makes up his mind. 

"bend over." he pants, catching his breath from the very heated kiss. you do as instructed, turning around to bend over for him. his hands immediately attach to your hips, one hand pressing against the small of your back, guiding you into position. "Arch that back, yeah..." he pulls you back against his dick, hard length sitting right between your ass. he retracts, sliding his length through your folds, coating it in your arousal. 

you can feel him line himself up with your entrance, head of his cock just barely penetrating, pausing before he decides to fully slip inside. a soft cry leaves you,  leaning yourself away from the intrusion that has your walls stretching. "Uh-ah, keep that back arched for me baby." that makes you whine, forcing yourself back into position as he pulls you right back on his cock. "Good girl..." he coos, hand rubbing softly against your back to soothe you, legs already trembling just from him sliding in. 

he takes you painfully slow, pulling half his length out, pushing it back in, in a long drawn out movement. his eyes are stuck right where you suck him back in, despite your little noises that tell him you're struggling with it. he barely has to move his hips, you're pushing back on him likely without even realizing. 

"Fuck," his dick is soaked, coated in your wetness, glistening in the soft light coming from your bedside lamp. He grabs both hips, taking over your soft and cautious movements, replacing them with his own. Still slow, but much deeper, holding your ass to his hips each time he pushes himself back in. 

"Taking it so good, baby." heeseung doesn't know why you're always so caught up in your own thoughts. each time he fucks you like this, you forget all about your silly little insecurities. It's all proof of the woman you are today, anyway. the mother and wife he's built within you. 

"Hee..." you reach a hand back to hold his, heeseung quickly pinning your arm behind your back, hand clasped within yours. His movements increase, throwing his own head back as your body drives him to near madness. you sink further down, hand knitting into the soft fabric of your cream coloured duvet. 

so deep, so big. he's hitting all the right spots, bending over you to reach and grab a tit. he squeezes at the flesh, mouth steady kissing on your shoulder as he fucks you near completion. the both of you. "fuck, baby! harder!" nothing but a word, he happily obliges. he's been waiting for you to say it since he started. "Yeah?" his breaths shallow and short as he fucks into you harder, a loud moan of approval from you forcing a smirk on his lips. "Yes! god, heeseung!" from his lips on your neck, to the way his balls repeatedly slap against your clit, you're already there before you realise. "Like that, yeah, let it out."

you grab at his flexed arms beside you, crying out as you both ride out your orgasm together. Heeseung's hips stutter as cums inside you, sloppy uncoordinated thrusts pushing more waves of pleasure through you. "Shit." He blinks through the haziness coursing through his body, only pulling out when both of your breaths return to normal.

you stay even when heeseung leaves, relaxing your body against the bed. he comes back, turning you back over so he can clean you up, laying next to you right after. 

comfortable silence fills the air, heeseung pulling you into his arms when you snuggle up close. "I love you, hee."

"I love you more, baby." 

...

"Say hi!" you grab your sons arm, waving at the man in the doorway. "My big man! Say hi to uncle Jake." he takes the baby from your arms, bouncing him in his. "Where's your dad, big man? always leaving mommy to do the work, huh?" you move to the kitchen, starting the coffee maker for heeseung.

"Dad is doing laundry." Heeseung emerges, passing Jake the diaper bag. You furrow your brows at that, heeseung hadn't said anything about Jake taking Seung. "Morning." he slips behind you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. "Seung is-"

"You need a break." he quickly interjects, eyebrows raising when you don't immediately respond. "What? You don't wanna spend some time with me?" it's sly, the way his hand slips under your shirt to grab the soft flesh of your ass.  "I was the only man in your life at one point, you know." he smiles, moving his hand back to a more appropriate position. "Whatever." you laugh, eyes shifting over to Jake who's preoccupied with your son. You slip past heeseung, going to say your goodbyes. "Thanks, Jake. You really-"

Heeseung's familiar hiss of disapproval stops you. Jake simply laughing, "It's all good. My girlfriend wants to see him anyway. she calls it playing 'house'."

"Marry her and have your own, dude." heeseung comes over, kissing his son’s cheek. "Yeah, yeah." he's always dismissive when the topic comes up, but you know he's just waiting on the right time. "I'll take off then." Jake smiles at the both you before he makes his way to the front door. Heeseung pulls you in as you both wave Jake and your son goodbye. 

"Let's have another one." 

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

Alright, so there's been a lot of chatter about some of the most common racist takes in the fandom lately, and I know most people aren't engaging in good faith but I'm gonna spell some things out anyway. Here's a handy-dandy White Fan's Intro to Racist Fanon 101

Why is it racist to depict Ed as uncontrollably violent?

Because he's not actually depicted that way in the show. OFMD goes out of its way to depict Ed's relationship with violence as complex and intensely traumatic for him. Because he has so many hangups around violence, Ed is one of the least violent characters in a show full of violent characters. He is always shown giving people many chances before they're able to push him into reacting with violence.

Even if you think you're just doing a character study on a guy who is really very complex and nuanced, please take the time to consider if you're assigning more weight to Ed's violent actions than those of other characters or assuming he's worse than he actually is (for example, Ed never physically hurt the crew during his kraken spiral, just Izzy. His crime was being a shitty boss, not going on mindlessly violent rampages).

What do other common fanon depictions of Ed that are racist look like?

The biggest ones are depicting Ed as untidy/messy, as illiterate, and as needing a white man (most often Izzy) to clean up after him. I hope I shouldn't have to spell out why these are racist, but please keep an eye out for them in the fanon you consume so you can be critical of how you respond when they pop up.

Are you saying that all Izzy fans are racist?

Liking a character is morally neutral. Insisting that the viewpoint of an antagonistic character is the lens through which the show should be understood, though, especially when that antagonistic character's whole deal in the first season of the show was trying to control the behavior of the brown lead so he could gain power for himself, however...

Just please consider - why do you find Izzy's tears more deserving of sympathy and compassion than Ed's?

But my hot take/fic/meta doesn't say anything about Ed's skin color!

It doesn't have to. Most of the racist takes/fic/meta out there don't mention Ed's skin color explicitly. Racism doesn't just look like saying "this character is a brown man so he's bad." Everyone who grows up in a racist society (that's everyone on the planet, btw, you included) has biases to unlearn, and those biases impact how you interact with the world around you, including with the media you consume.

The thing is, OFMD isn't a subtle show. It's very consistent with telling us who Ed is, how he responds to situations, and why he behaves the way he does. If you find it easier to throw all that aside in favor of believing what a white antagonistic character tells you about him, then you should really take a bit to examine that.

And here's the most important thing to keep in mind:

This is not about you.

Trust me, it has to be pretty damn bad for fans of color to call out racism in fandom. Every time we do, we know we're gonna harrassment and just some truly awful shit in our inboxes. But you, random white fan who Did A Racism? No one is out to get you. No one thinks you're an awful person for including a racist trope in your stuff, we just wish you'd examine it so we can make this fandom a better place for everyone.

I have had amazing discussions with white fans who saw my posts on fandom racism and wanted a sensitivity read or a check so they could fix an instance where they uncritically included a racist trope. But most people who make similar mistakes will just double down and insist they didn't do anything wrong, and that makes fandom a worse place for all of us.

Fans of color deserve to feel safe and included in this fandom, and we're just tired of feeling like we have to beg to get some circles to see poc as people. You can do your part by being critical of these tropes and your reactions to them when they pop up.

[vagabond-umlaut]

tempest in a teapot

gojo finds nothing more delightful than seeing your annoyed frown in the middle of a storm— why should he need the sun to break through the gloomy clouds, when you're right there in front of him, huh?

teen!gojo x fem!reader; fluffy & not-very-lwk sappy [xDD]; lovesick gojo; realisation of feelings; gojo loves you— you're compelled to tolerate him; he is sort of... obsessed w you but not in the toxic way yet; implied bullying [gojo isn't involved!!]; he wants to be your knight in shining armour sooo baddd; 'one-sided enemies to lovers'; 2.5k wc

belongs to the series 'fictitious force' but can be read as a stand-alone if you wanna!

header frm pinterest // divider by @/isisjupiter // jjk isn't mine

gojo believes, there exist two kinds of people.

one, those who aren't but love to pretend being better than everyone else— and two, those who aren't but will do anything to be viewed as the worst in the world— the second category housing no one except you—

tingles dancing behind his ribs, down his arms and right to the tips of his fingers, the boy hums when asked why he wishes to meet you out of all the people he could. that too now, the sky darkening from a mix of night and storm— that too, to meet you.

candy crushed between molars, gojo grins.

"let's just say i'm a little curious about her, shall we?"

then pauses, grin mellowing when he finally feels your cursed energy— if his six eyes were working just fine and not fatigued after today's spree of killing curses, maybe he could have known your location too in an instant or so... and not have had to rely on others for that...

the blinding beacon that your cursed signature is, brushes soothingly against his exhausted self— he adds, "also maybe 'cause i'm a little in love with her— she's really sweet, y'know?"

whatever response he might have been expecting, a scoff is definitely not one of them.

utahime makes a face. almost as if she just bit into a lemon... almost as if she doesn't believe gojo can fall in love... almost as if she deems you to be not sweet... that last implication nearly makes him want to throw hands with the girl, opting to ignore the fact that she's shoko's girlfriend—

but he stops when she jabs a thumb to the corridor to the left.

your cursed energy caresses his six eyes gently. something burns at the back of his two eyes. he begs his mind to listen to the directions being given to him. the directions to you!!

"go down this hallway then turn right at the end. she will still be in the gardens—" the rest of the sentence doesn't reach gojo.

nor does anything else, for that matter.

nothing does. except for the steady thump!thump!thump! against his ribs and in his ears. and, of course— how did he even forget this— the lodestar your brilliance is to his too impatient self, too stumbling feet, this squally evening as he skids past empty hallways...

your smile is the first thing the boy notices.

so sweet. so sweet. it is the sweetest thing gojo reckons to have ever seen in his life. the pretty little smile carving your lips and illuminating your equally lovely face, as you lie on your stomach on the grass. legs swaying with the wind. gaze dancing over the fluttering pages—

everything changes in a beat— or perhaps even less than that— with your eyes no longer on the book.

they are on him. drowning him. suffocating him. squeezing whatever infinitesimal life left in him after the past three days' missions. taking every bit of who he is, all for themselves to glare at so sweetly.

your pretty little smile falls into an adorable frown. "why are you here, senpai?"

"why am i here?" he echoes your query. your frown deepens. he grins, brushing his bangs away out of his view. "to see you, of course!! mind if i take a seat beside you?"

you do mind. gojo knows, yet doesn't find a fault in you minding him so— shutting your book, you don't waste an extra second to move to sit upright. nor to scoot away when the boy takes your absence of an answer as an invitation to plop down onto the grass.

your scowl stays unfazed, gojo watches, heart lurching and tumbling. falling onto his back, he shifts to lie on his side, an elbow propped up to support his head. and hums.

"why do you look so mad, sweet—"

"please don't call me by such terms," you cut him off, sharp and terse, "and please don't pretend you don't know why i'm mad— acting like a fool doesn't suit you."

"acting like a fool doesn't suit you either, darling," the boy replies, not borrowing even a moment to mull over his words. it's honestly so like playing with fire... arguing with you, that is. but he is nothing if not an extremely devoted lover of danger, so he will keep doing whatever he is doing now— plus, don't the two of you seem so 'married couple'-y right now, huh?

he continues— not disturbed, rather delighted by how your features tighten and stiffen. eyes narrowing a touch. lips pursed a pinch— he wonders if you know how much you're endearing yourself to him the longer you keep looking at him that way—

he allows his grin to simmer down to a sly twist of lips.

"but i'm not going to question that... your love for your family is pretty cool—" not really. gojo finds it boring at best, and stupid at worst. but since it's you... he tries to deem it as neither. "— so whatever amazing plan you've concocted: pretending to be weak, so you aren't sent to a mission, so you have a 100% chance of staying alive anddd your dear family doesn't have to get sad—"

"why are you here, senpai?"

obviously, to see you, silly!!

— is what gojo should say. is what gojo wants to say. but he finds his tongue numb and unmoving. rendered useless by the sight you, your cursed energy, both have become...

if you were a fire before, you're nothing less than a solar flare now.

and the boy loves it. his six eyes love it. the boy loves you—

your brows gather close. his stomach does a flip. your voice assumes an adorably serious tone. "you didn't come here to ask me out, again, did you, senpai?"

did he?

oh, gojo doesn't really know.

maybe he did... he does want to take you to his favourite restaurants. but maybe he didn't... seeing you has been the only thing on his mind ever since he was informed of his mission being in otsu, shiga.

only fifteen kilometres away from the kyoto jujutsu tech— you don't allow him to utter a single syllable in reply, however. gojo wonders if this is how all your future arguments will be like— he decides it's not that bad.

not when you lean a little towards him. gaze narrowed. tone earnest.

"look— i know keeping another's secrets is a big deal, and some folks need some sort of... uh, reward for that— but how about this? instead of me going out on a date with you, why don't i buy you a box of them gourmet chocolates? or, a ticket to your favorite band's concert? or, a gift voucher of your favorite clothing store— this is better, isn't it?"

better... it would have been... if only he was dead set on making you reward him, as you oh so eloquently put it, for keeping your secrets.

but the thing is, he isn't. the boy doesn't want any sort of silly reward from you— he just wants to take you out on a date. always has, since his eyes met yours few weeks ago and he felt something strange and sweet unfurl within his chest—

making it seem like a payment for him shutting his mouth about you, was only a tactic. a very cheap tactic, the boy chides himself, looking at the worry etched into the dip of your lips.

slipping his shades off, he sits up. and offers a tiny smile. it feels... too weird... too soft on his lips.

"you do know who you're talking to, don't you?"

it takes you a while to reply. throwing back a question of your own. "is this you telling me i can't buy a rich guy's silence, senpai?"

he is. he very much is. but heaven knows why you make it sound this rude— the same as before, you don't stop speaking. not allowing him squeeze a single word in.

"but everyone likes free stuff, don't they? i mean, i'll be buying all that for you, and you won't have to spend even a single yen..." you heave a sigh. so minute, he almost misses it. but he doesn't 'cause he's pretty much focused his every sense on you—

exhaling yet another sigh, you ask, "don't you like freebies, senpai?"

he does. he very much does. even more when you say it that way with your cute little frown and exasperated little tone—

"you're too sweet, y'know?" he breathes out, hoping he sounds just as fond as he feels of you now. extremely likely, forever. "i don't really get why utahime doesn't see you to be so."

you make some sort of a noise then.

it isn't exactly a chuckle... nor is it a snort... it's very cute, nonetheless.

you hum, "iori-senpai is the kindest out of everyone here. if she thinks i'm not someone sweet... i don't know but doesn't it ring some sort of warning bell inside your head, hm?"

"hell no," gojo mutters in that same instant— a little miffed at how you refer to utahime, a quiet respect lacing every letter you say— not-too-little miffed at the implications behind you calling that sharp-tongued girl the kindest here—

for the first time in your company, the boy feels his lips collapse into a frown.

it's something, he realises you realise too, the way your lips part a tad. in something akin surprise... but not the very pleased kind.

he doesn't really think before adding, "the only bells i can hear when i look at you are—" you frown. he bites his tongue. perhaps... he should think a bit before speaking...

chuckling, he continues as if you did not just shoot his soul a look.

"never mind what i can hear... but the thing is you can never be one who rings warning bells in others' minds— like, hell no!" he repeats. letting some force seep into his syllables. into his unwavering stare, fixed on you. on every minute expression you're making—

he really decides to think, however. softening himself on noting your shaky exhale. your nails digging into the cover of your book— he lets himself borrow a beat before resuming.

forcing his face into a bright grin when he does so.

"feel free to text me the names of those dipshits who have ever made you feel bad, by the way— but don't worry," he adds, the memories of his previous error of ways hitting him in the face.

"i won't ask you out on a date in return for that— i'm just in need of an intensive punching practice, and you will do me a big favour by doing as i asked you to— you will text me, won't ya?"

yeah. no. thank you. fuck you—

you say nothing.

nothing, nothing, nothing at all.

for a very painfully long ten seconds.

during which you do nothing except look at him— just look, that too! neither glare nor gape nor gawk— just a quiet, scarily quiet looking— gojo swears his heart skips a beat when you finally open your mouth.

and inquire, words so slow and soft.

"this isn't some ploy of yours to get my number, right?"

"hey, no—" he rushes to explain. fuming at himself 'cause how the hell did he fuck up this bad again!?!?— but as is the norm, you don't allow him to speak any more than that. cutting him off with yet another one of your queries— except this time, it's not so slow.

and more of a statement than a question, now that he thinks about it— "you did not really tell anyone about my secret in these past weeks, did you?"

no, he didn't. obviously, he didn't.

gojo satoru might be several things, but an intentional villain isn't one of them... something skids across your face when the boy tells you as much— but he finds himself not too sure.

thanks to the lightning streaking across the sky.

and the torrential rains following not an instant late.

and the way your gaze jumps from him to the sky, to the book in your hold— only to come back to his face. wide, unblinking, all-consuming for a scanty moment there—

gojo tries his best not to collapse into the mud when you break into a sprint for cover from the downpour. he tries his best not to follow you as he feels your warmth go farther and farther away. his six eyes gaze at the trail of your addictively bright and hot— and his six eyes aren't talking about just the temperature— cursed energy—

the boy tries his damnedest best not to shout, overwhelmingly happy and relieved as he realises the rapidly reducing distance between him and your cursed signature.

the thud of your sneakers on the cement floor of the building sounds nothing less than the best music the boy's ever heard. or maybe, it is the best music in this whole wide world...

yet another lightning streaks across the sky. he twists himself around just in time to catch the awe-filled look you offer at the sight. features something out of this realm as your eyes trace its path, not even a bit bothered by the deafening thunder that sounds next—

gojo thinks he'll die happy if he dies now.

or maybe he can die later, he changes his stance quickly. on noticing you dash towards him through the mud, face fixed in a deep scowl as you struggle to open an umbrella, and balance a pretty heavy-looking bag off your forearm.

you huff when you reach him.

the boy wonders if it's your finally-open umbrella, or you, who shields him from the numbing cold of the torrential rains—

crouching down before him, you drop the bag into his lap.

and exhale a quiet sigh. his breath catches in his chest when he spies a hint of something... maybe fondness? curling up the corners of your frown, as you speak.

"next time you wanna flirt with someone, try not to do that after your missions— it is very difficult to be mad at a person if they look just a push away from passing out, y'know?"

[no... gojo doesn't really know.

but as he lets you press the handle of the umbrella into his palm— an odd look flittering over your features before you turn on your heel and hurry back into the school building— and his eyes fall on the contents of the bag you've left with him—

cans of green tea. chamomile tea. dark chocolate. biscuits. water—

the boy muses if this is your attempt to buy his silence. by giving him enough food and drinks to prevent him from blacking out from sheer exhaustion while on the train ride back to tokyo...

oh. it's enough for him to not worry 'bout tonight's dinner as well, he tells himself on finding two cups of instant noodles at the bottom of the bag—

gojo smiles.

deciding not only his silence to be yours, but also a part of his heart— albeit... weren't either of them yours to begin with, huh?]

hope this was an enjoyable read! pls don't plagiarise, translate or repost this ❤️❤️

masterlist

[wellofdean]

Not to discourse, but...I do not understand at all why people think Jensen Ross Ackles is gonna answer questions about things that haven't happened yet in an ongoing story in any kind of way that tells you anything concrete about what is going to happen, or what his character is going to feel or do, when his character has not had a chance to feel or do them yet? Do people really want him to start spinning fucking yarns up there?

Also, I cannot understand why anyone wants him to?! Like, thank you Jensen for NOT TELLING US. I don't want to go into it having been told what to feel and think about it! I want to see it, be surprised and experience emotions that aren't just the smug satisfaction of watching what I already know will happen play out. Like, when Supernatural returns, y'all know they are not going to just immediately throw the whole cow to us piranhas, right?

And while I'm here, on my horse, I would also like to say that I can't help but feel that this whole discussion that I have seen elsewhere in my feed here, is predicated on the idea that Jensen has not known ALL ALONG what character he was acting or what Dean feels and thinks, and that he is not good at his job. Does it ever occur to people that he DOES KNOW, because he is, in fact, fucking great at his job?

One of the best things about that guy is the way he does not say anything coercive EVER about this story or his character. He is letting his work as an actor speak for him, AS HE SHOULD. Do you feel like there is a deep sadness in Dean? A loneliness and an unspoken inner life? A desire for something more? Do you feel like he has made it clear in a million tiny ways that Dean cannot carry on without Cas, but that he fucking tried because Cas died to save him, and he had to make it mean something? Did you not see how he hugged that fucking dog that one time?? Do you not watch Dean, and see these things? These things are the actual content of the actual narrative. The narrative is the place where Dean's feelings and thoughts and actions are stored. Jensen speculating about it on a con stage is not a thing I even sort of want!

If you are disappointed that Jensen did not say: oh yeah, they will RESOLVE IT (nudge nudge wink wink har har har) my question is: why don't you trust your own eyes? Why do you think he is not in control of what he is putting across as an actor? Why do you need him to tell you, in kindergarten terms, what happened? Why don't you want to just watch it and be surprised by joy? The truth is, he has been very consistent in his responses to these kinds of questions, AND he made a whole season of television (TW) with his production company that is consistent with everything he has said. What can he possibly do to satisfy you?

I can only say that personally? I AM SATISFIED. Dean is Dean, and I love him. Jensen made him, and I love that guy's work. Please make more of him, because I cannot wait to love Dean some more. I am here because it's fun, and I am having a good time. Y'all should try it!

[crilbyte]

Hi, I was wondering if you could do an Alastor x reader one-shot inspired by the song 'Don't you dare make me fall in love with you' by Kaden MacKay?

Ooooh my gosh, I love this! This is so cute. I love the idea of an angrily lovesick alastor.

I wasn't sure if you wanted a smutty oneshot or not, so I stopped right before it.

Update! Due to popular demand I've made a Part 2. It's 18+ so be aware!

Everything had been going so well. He'd wormed his way into the hotel, Charlie trusted him, he'd even gotten her to make a deal with him. Everything had been going according to plan. Until YOU showed up.

At first it wasn't so bad. Sure, you were pretty and intelligent and the only one who could make a decent cup of coffee in the whole hotel. Sure you were funny and sweet and the only one he could stand to sit with in the study to read. You were quiet when it called for it and loud when it was okay. That was all.

But then Alastor started noticing when you weren't there instead of just when you were. He began to schedule when he would read by the fire in the study for when he'd know you were there. It was one of these times that made him realize something might be wrong with him.

Alastor went to the study, ready to read silently alongside you as you both usually did at this time only to find you missing. It was then that he heard Charlie and Angels voices from outside in the hall.

“...no, she's just taking it really hard,” Charlie says softly.

“It’s not her fault,” Angel insists. “Girl needs to chill.”

“You know how she is, her reason for being down here is pretty different from most people's.”

“Yeah, I get that an’ all… But it's still *not* her fault. That crazy motherfucker deserved what he got. Fuck him.”

“Still, she’s just like this. She feels responsible for his death, even if he arguably did deserve it.”

“So, now what? Do we just let it play out?” Angel asks, seemingly sincere.

“I… I don't know,” Charlie sighs, exasperated. “I tried to talk to her, but she won't let me into her room. She’s locked herself in. So, yeah I guess…”

*So… you are in her room were you?* Alastor thought, already beginning to fade into shadows. Then that’s where he would go…

He hadn't even fully corporealized before he could hear the quiet sobs. Alastor slowly approaches the lump in the bed, a curled-up you hiding under the covers like a scared child. He sits beside you, a gentle hand on what he assumes is your head.

“My dear, what troubles you so…?” His crackled voice asks.

With a jump, you throw the covers off of your head, not having realized he was there. The look of shock on your face would have been quite amusing if it wasn't layered over red puffy eyes and an even more pallid complexion than you usually had.

“Alastor!” you chirp, quickly looking away and wiping your eyes. “W-what are you doing here? I thought I locked the door.”

“Indeed you did, luckily I am not bound by such trivial things,” Alastor replies proudly.

You give him a slightly irritated look. He’d take it; it was better than crying.

“I overheard that you were inconsolable up here, wouldn't even let Charlie in. That’s typically my cue to step in. So do tell, what can I do for you? My purpose here is to help after all.”

You give him a skeptical look. This wasn't exactly out of character for Alastor, but you know better than to assume that he would ever do anything purely out of the kindness of his heart.

“I'm not making any deals with you, Alastor,” you say, turning away from him and pulling the covers up to your shoulders.

“Who said anything about a deal?” He replies, only inches from your face.

You scream, jumping up to a sitting position. “Hell’s sake, Alastor. I wish you wouldn't do that.”

Alastor didn't reply, instead choosing to tilt his head with a closed-mouth smile.

With a sigh, you seem to give up. You look down at the sheets, your finger tracing an embroidered pattern on the duvet. “It’s about why I'm down here” you finally admit. “It's… just hard. It's the anniversary of when it happened and it's just…”

“Let me see if I've got this straight,” Alastor asks, spinning his cane. “You feel guilty for the sin that brought you here?”

You nod silently.

“And what exactly was that?”

You look up at him, nervously. “Murder…”

Alastor's eyes glint. He would never have guessed. “And what caused you to do such a… heinous crime against God?”

“He was a friend of my brothers. He was trying to blackmail me into… into doing porn for him.”

“So you murdered a man who'd threatened you?”

You nod. “And other girls.”

“Bit of a pimp, then eh?” He grins, sounds like you did the world a favor.”

You’re taken aback by that, you hadn't even considered that. You look down at the bed, little sniffles being the only sound between the two of you. Alastor moves closer, taking your chin in his thumb and first finger, forcing you to look at him.

“Now… I believe I asked you a question,” he chirps out, voice low and ridden with static. “What do you need? Your any desire is mine to fulfill. No deals necessary.”

You just stare up at him, stunned. There had to be a catch, right? Alastor was not *kind*. He didn't do things for no reason. His goal was always to further his own plans. But no matter how much you try, you can't figure out what he could get out of this, besides your trust.

“Come, my dear. Surely there's something, anything I can do to help,” he tries one last time.

The words fall from your mouth before you can stop them. “Stay with me tonight…”

Alastor pulls back slightly, eyes widening, his grin still present, but nervous. “You want me to…stay?” He asks.

You just nod, moving towards him. “Please?”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“Wait, wait, wait,” Rosie throws her hands up, waving them. “She wanted you to stay the night?”

Alastor takes a sip of his coffee, nodding.

“So how'd she take the rejection?” She asks playfully, raising an eyebrow.

“Whatever do you mean?” Alastor questions, lightly placing his cup back on its saucer.

“Well you didn't sleep with her,” she says with a scoff.

Alastor doesn't respond, instead taking another sip from his cup.

Rosie's eyes grow. “Alastor. You didn't.” Her hand flies up to cover her mouth in shock.

“I did as she asked. I'm not one to go back on a promise.”

“And… so… what was it like?” She asks, genuinely interested now.

He ponders, eyes looking off into the middle distance with thought as his brows pull together. “Warm?”

Rosie chokes on her tea.

“I haven't slept that well in a long time, frankly. It's not something I've ever been interested in before.”

“I'm well aware,” she all but stutters out.

Alastor takes another long sip from his coffee before continuing. “Since then, she’s had me stay with her every night this week. Which is the subject of the advice I came to you for.”

Stunned silence. Rosie can't think of a single word. She had not expected this. Instead, she just nods, motioning for him to continue.

“At least she doesn't snore,” he jokes, his canned radio laughter echoing.

“She doesn't…” Rosie blinks a few times, realization setting in. “Wait, so you didn't…”

“Hmm?” Alastor raises an eyebrow, peering at Rosie over his monocle. “Didn't what, my dear?”

“*Sex* dear,” she says bluntly, smirking.

Alastor's eyes are suddenly as wide as Rosie had ever seen them. With his trademark grin still plastered on his face, it was a pretty comedic expression.

“Oh, no, no,” Alastor says through a laugh once his initial shock wears off. “Absolutely not, no. I have no interest in such things. No, no.”

Rosie's grin grows as she squints at her old friend, analyzing every word, every moment. Something was off, and then it struck her.

“Darlin’, you’re dizzy with her,” she says flatly, sipping her tea.

Her words actually silence him for a moment. She couldn't mean that. She was wrong.

“You must be mistaken,” he says, attempting to brush the comment off while readjusting the silverware on the table.

“Well, let's just think about it for a minute. You like her, right?”

“Indeed. She's intelligent, powerful, and quite the little spitfire when she wants to be,” he admits readily.

“And you like being around her? She doesn't make you uncomfortable?”

“Quite the opposite. She goes out of her way to ensure that I am quite comfortable.”

“Al, I think you love this girl,” she says with a squeak of barely contained excitement.

"No,” he says a little more forcefully than intended. “I do not love her. I *like* her, I will readily admit that. But I do not love her. I don't love anyone. I only find it enjoyable to be around her, and I attempt to do what I can for her to be happy and fulfill this silly desire of hers to accend.”

“And you are willing to brutally murder anyone who gets in the way of that..." She adds.

Alastor makes a point not to acknowledge her statement.

“Oh sweetie, honey, darling,” she coos teasingly, reaching a hand out on the table to him. “That’s how I felt about my dear Franklin. Well, before things grew cold between us and he had that *horrible accident~.*”

Alastor's smile is unwavering, but his eyes give away quite a bit. He was thinking, fighting these suggestions in his head, but he trusted Rosie. She'd never done him wrong before. In fact she had even gone out of her way for him on multiple occasions. If she was saying it, she meant it.

“If any other soul in this realm spoke those words to me…” he trails off, but Rosie understands.

“I might be off the mark,” she admits, throwing her hands up. “But promise me you’ll think about it. After everything that girl has gone through, she deserves at least that much.”

The walk home is far from peaceful. Alastor’s mind is plagued with thoughts of his conversation with Rosie. She was one of the only souls in hell he would ever admit to feeling anything even remotely close to “trust” in. He wants to scoff, wave away such frivolous accusations and move along; but when he tries, something deep in his brain tugs at him. Like a hook stuck in a fish that was too stubborn to be reeled in.

With a heavy sigh, Alastor walks into the hotel. There are more sinners there than usual. The sight lifted his spirits, Charlie would be happy. Though quickly his grin twists to one of chagrin. It happened again. What was this? Surely Rosie wasn't right. He knew himself. He was The Radio Demon, one of the most feared overlords in hell, serial killer, and cannibal. There was no way that he-

Alastor’s eyes lock onto you, standing at the bar, back against the wall, hands up in a defensive position while some… *kreatin* stood in front of you, fist against the wall beside your head, keeping you there. He was suddenly boiling with rage. His grin shifts to a sneer, antlers growing steadily as his legs take him closer to the offending and soon-to-be *deceased* sinner.

“No, I’m sorry, I really don't want any…” he hears your non-confrontational voice and his throat burns.

“Come on,” the man’s gravely voice insists. “What’s one drink? It's on me.”

“I believe the lady said N͇̱͐̿͛́o̷͖̤̺̥͈̲̓̓.̢͙̼͈̝ͫ͊̋ͅ.” Alastor’s voice contorts, his eyes turning to dials as he grows in size.

The man stutters, mumbling out apologies before turning and quickly attempting to escape. Alastor made to follow but feels tiny hands on him, turning harshly to see who dared to stop him, only to see your small form hugging his arm. It was as though you had poured cold water over him. He shrinks back down to size, his grin shifting from its twisted form to a much softer one as he takes in your trembling frame.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

He reaches a hand up and pats your head gently and you grip him tighter.

“Thank you, Alastor…Thank you.”

Alastor closes his eyes and takes a deep breath through his nose.

*Fuck*…

The next week was difficult…

It was as if everything was conspiring together to find new and unique ways to piss Alastor off. Between having to restrain himself from tearing to shreds and devouring a new resident at the hotel after he disturbed you with extremely inappropriate remarks one fateful afternoon, and him finding himself genuinely happy at the sight of you when you were telling Charlie about it later… It felt as though his sanity was being used as a yo-yo. But this was not the end of it, or even the worst of it to come.

On one quiet afternoon, Alastor is sitting in the study, reading a book and sipping coffee, relaxing. Or at least, he *had* been relaxing. It was rather difficult to unwind when you are being watched.

Out of the corner of his eye, Alastor can see Charlie peeking in through the doorway. Each time he looks up to welcome her in, she disappears. She even begins just walking past the doorway over and over as though she is trying to work up the courage to go in, only to change her mind at the last second. After about ten minutes of this cat-and-mouse game, Alastor can't take it anymore.

“Are you going to enter, my dear, or are you planning on just staring the entire night?” He asks, not looking up from his book.

“O-oh. Sorry,” Charlie enters sheepishly, walking to sit in a nearby plush chair.

“So what brings you to me this afternoon?” Alastor asks, closing his book and placing it on the little table beside him.

“Um,” she looks down at her hands which are stuck between her thighs. She really did seem quite nervous. “I wanted to ask you for some advice?”

He perks at that. “Of course, my dear. Ask away, I’m always happy to help.”

“It's for a friend of mine.”

Okay, that doesn't narrow anything down, he thinks.

“A mutual friend of ours,” she continues.

And that narrows it down considerably. So she is talking about you, Alastor decides.

“Yes, and what problem does our friend have.

“Okay, so… There’s this guy…”

It was as though a hole opened in his chest. Three little words. Why had they affected him so strongly? He needed to quash this ridiculous and frivolous emotion.

“And you came to me?” He asks, examining his claws. “My dear, I'm hardly the sentimental type.”

“Well, he’s uh, a lot like you. Old fashioned, proper.” She looks so nervous to be asking him this, her face is red, which was quite noticeable with her pale complexion. “She… she *really* likes him, but she doesn't know how to tell him. So I hoped maybe you could help me give her some advice…?”

Alastor wants nothing more than to ask this man’s name and hunt him down.

The thought causes him to pause. What a strange intrusive thought. He attempts to shake it off, turning his attention back to Charlie.

“Well,” he begins. “That isn't much to go on.” Alastor crosses his legs, it feels as though he was trying to tie himself into a knot. What an annoying feeling.

“Ok, so… he’s smart and generous um…” Charlie bites her lip, “Funny?”

Alastor remains silent, this isn't very useful information.

“Is he a sinner, dear?” he inquires.

Charlie perks at that. “Oh, yes actually.”

He has to suppress a growl. *So it was some lowly human then,* He thinks as though he in't the same. He attempts some deduction. A sinner who identifies as male. Old-fashioned. Proper… That likely ruled out the recently deceased. Apparently “smart” and “funny”. Though Alastor mused he couldn’t be *that” smart to have ended up on his shit-list. He was beginning to compile a list of suspects. Just as he was about to ask another probing question, there came a voice from the door.

“Hey, Charlie, there’s some new girl here who swears that you told her she could have a room with a jacuzzi?” Angel says incredulously. “Bitch, if we have rooms with jacuzzis why the *fuck* am I staying in a traditional fucking suite?”

“Oh, uh, I think she may have misunderstood,” Charlie begins before turning to Alastor. “Sorry, I think I’ll have to deal with this personally… Thanks for listening, but, honestly… you can forget it. It’s not that important anyway.”

With that, she stands and leaves, though through the doorway Alastor can swear he saw Angel playfully elbow her ribs, though he couldn't begin to guess what that was about.

A sinner who was smart, generous, and funny. This was sounding less and less like someone who would have ended up in hell. He would do more reconnaissance later. For now, he wanted to prepare for his radio show tomorrow, hoping it could take his mind off this itching feeling in the back of his head.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

It's quiet in Alastor’s room. The only sounds coming from the ticking of his grandfather clock and the quiet sounds of jazz from his gramophone. It had been a rough day, well… a rough fewI days. But this afternoon seemed to be going more his way, he thought. At least until he hears a knock at his door.

Alastor sighs, letting his head fall over the back of his chair. Who could it possibly be at this hour? After so much inner turmoil, he had very much wished to just relax in his room. It seemed as though even that was asking too much. Alastor steadies himself, pinching the bridge of his nose, and stands. He opens the door only to be surprised. Outside stood a very nervous looking Charlie. With a quirk of his brow; Alastor's grin grows.

“And what, may I ask, brings you to my humble abode at such a late hour?” He asks.

“Well,” she begins with a twitchy look in her eye. “Tomorrow we're doing a sort of graduation party,” she begins to explain how she has a surprise party planned for you, that your progress was so much faster than she could have ever assumed and so she wanted to throw you a party before you disappeared up to heaven.

Each new word from her mouth felt like another weight added to the chain that threatened to drag Alastor down into some deeper pit of hell itself.

“You think she'll be heavenbound soon?” He asks, his mouth dry.

“Yes!” She replies cheerfully. “The rain she was down here to begin with was pretty shakey, anyway. To be honest, I'm surprised it's taken this long.”

“You'll have to excuse me, my dear, but I've just remembered I have something very important to take care of,” Alastor says with a harsh smile.

“But I haven't even asked what I came here to-” Charlie attempts to finish, but is cut off as the door closes in her face.

With a determination he hadn't felt in a long time, Alastor turns and I'm stalks towards his table, picking up his book and returning it to its shelf before dissolving into Shadow. He doesn't reappear outside your door, or even attempt to knock. Instead he apparates directly into your room. Luckily you were looking in the direction his shape takes form in so you're not quite as startled by his sudden appearance, even if it does shake you slightly, seeing as how you're in bed and in your nightgown.

“Alastor?” You ask as he solidifies and steps towards you.

"Darling," He whispers, a small smirk on his face at your state of undress. "I'm here to make a deal…”

"a deal...? with me?" You ask, curious.

"Yes, my dear," He murmurs, his tone turning serious. "Charlie has informed me that your ascension is nearing. I have come to persuade you to… make a different choice.”

You cock an eyebrow at him. "Oh... she said that?" You ask. "And why... is that?"

Alastor takes a step closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Because, I'd be... lonely, without you here. I've grown fond of your quiet presence, and I don't like the thought of going back to solitude.”

You tilt your head. "But you have Charlie, aren't you and her quite close?"

Alastor pauses for a moment at your question, his eyes narrowing slightly. He never thought you would question his reasoning.

"She... it isn't the same," He growls. "I want you, here... always, keeping me... sane." A hint of sadness crosses his face, but it's quickly replaced by a smirk. "Charlie and I have... similar goals. But we are not close. She doesn't need me the way you do... and she certainly doesn't have... my tastes" He says, taking another step towards you.

You give up on this line of questioning and instead start a new one.

"So you want to make a deal for my soul?" you ask. "You get my soul and in return I can have... anything I want?”

Alastor smiles again, but more genuinely this time. "Yes... that's what I'm proposing. Your soul, in exchange for anything your heart desires." He says with a grin, sitting down on your bed and holding out a hand towards you. "Do we have a deal?”

You feel the static in the air, the sound seeming to fill your ears like a flood as he leans towards you. You watch as his antlers slowly grow and green scratch marks appear in the air, forming into unfamiliar symbols that flash in and out. You look down at his hand, your gaze steeling before you tentatively reach out, but then pause. Just as he thinks you might pull back, you do the opposite, confidently gripping his hand and looking at him with a determined glint in your eyes.

"Deal.”

Alastor chuckles low as you accept his hand and the deal. The static intensifies as he grips your hand back, pulling you closer to him. The symbols in the air flare brightly for a moment before they vanish, leaving a faint glow that's slow to fade. You watch as the green stitching appears in his lips, a gold contract and a quill appearing between you.

You take the pen and sign your name without hesitation. The moment the last letter is written, a flash of green light fills the room and you feel a heavy weight settle around your neck as a neon green collar appears there. The chain attached to it leading to Alastor's still outstretched hand.

Alastor chuckles again as the collar settles around your neck, tugging on it playfully. He brings his free hand up to trace a finger along the chain, watching it with interest before he looks back at you.

"The weight of your decision…” he says. You watch his finger as it slides down the chain, your body leaning towards him. Alastor's finger hooks into the collar, pulling a little harder, causing your body to lean closer to him still. "...is now physically upon you," he finishes, a dark glint in his eyes as he studies you. He leans in close, whispering seductively, "And what could you possibly want so badly you'd be willing to trade your soul for it without a second thought?”

"If I tell you, you can't go back on it right?" You ask, your eyes boring into his. "Just like I can't go back on the deal, you can't either, correct?”

Alastor smirks, a wicked and sinister expression taking over his features. "That's right," he confirms, running his thumb along the collar before letting it fall from his fingers. "Once you've signed the contract, there's no going back. So go ahead. Tell me what is it that could tempt you so drastically. What did you desire?”

You're silent a moment, just staring at him, still leaned in close, before a single word falls from your lips.

"You…”

Alastor tilts his head slightly, processing your word as you stare at each other for a tense, long moment. Slowly, his lips curl into a small smirk.

"You desire me?" He repeats, an almost mocking tone in his voice, but his eyes tell a different story.

You nod, silently moving forward towards him, closing the distance between you. Alastor watches as you crawl across the bed towards him. Something flashes in his expression, but it's gone just as quick as it came. He moves his hand from your collar to the small of your back, pulling you gently closer by slowly reeling you in. Closer, until your body is almost flush with his, able to feel the rise and fall of his chest under his suit jacket, his lips a breath away from yours. You look up at him, blinking rapidly, mouth slightly open.

"Yes," you say in almost a whisper. "What I desire most... is you…”

Alastor closes his eyes, your words causing a visible shiver to run through him. He's quiet for a moment, just simply holding you close before he takes in a deep breath and finally crashes his lips against yours, a low moan rumbling in his chest. You gasp into the kiss, moaning. Alastor takes the chance to slip his tongue between your lips, tangling with yours as he pulls you closer against him. His hands move from your waist and up your back, pulling you impossibly close as he devours your mouth hungrily.

A groan escapes him as he can feel your tongue fighting his own for dominance. He finds he likes the challenge. Alastor chuckles against your lips, breaking the kiss for just a moment before diving back in, hands slipping up under your shirt to rest against the warmth of your skin. He matches your fight for dominance with his own, a growl rumbling through his chest as you continue.

Tonight, Alastor would claim full ownership of you...

[petew21-blog]

Romania dreaming

It has been a few months since I met George on the site for long distance dating for gays. He was from Romania, kind of cute twinkish guy. Never had much luck. I honestly can't say why I went on that website, maybe I was just bored, but it turned out as the best decision of my life.

It was strange cause from the start, we knew we had chemistry between each other, but the distance made it complicated. We often sex-chatted on the website. About what we would do to each other and so.

One day I told him I wanted to jerk off furiously, because of what he wrote, but my rommate was unfortuantely in the room. Then just a strange idea popped into my head. "What if you'd swap into his body? Then you could be with me." George told me about his Romania ancestor magic skills he had, but he did just some small parlor tricks from time to time. The bigger spells were harder. He needed a friend for that. A friend that I could be. And that I could benefit from too

George loved the idea, but was scared at first. "What if the other one in my body ruins my life while he is me? I can't let that happen."

"Ok, you know what. Find anyone hot from your life that you would like me to swap into and I will come to see you. Then you'll swap me back and I'll see what the other person did. Maybe the spell makes them think they're us. That would be neat" I suggested

George was more confident now and even sent me some photos of his straight colleagues from work, so that we could see if they behaved differently after swapping back. I immediately set my eyes on Daniel. His hot, absolutely 100 % straight, colleague who worked out. Insanely hot.

We both agreed. I got ready in my bed. I told George to start the spell at 21:21. I looked at the clock and still had some minutes left. I tried to fall asleep. Maybe Daniel would be asleep in my body and it would be easier. Then it hit me. Strange nauseating feeling and the light

I was standing in the locker rooms. Cold win from the AC on my bare torso. Bare torso? Holy shit. I am shirtless in the locker rooms of some gym. That's something I never expected to happen to me. I looked down. First thing that caught my eye were the shorts. Then I looked at my beautiful muscular torso. My new arms. Then I caught my new reflection. In the mirror was the guy that I saw in the photo. Daniel. "Daniel" I said aloud. His voice sounded so strong and commanding. If he told me with this voice to get down on my knees and suck him, I would. Speaking of sucking I looked in my shorts. Nice flacid shaved cock. "Gotta find out how big you are when you're hard big guy". His phone vibrated. Fuck, I almost forgot I was suppose to send Daniel proof of swapping bodies

I sent the photo to George's instagram. Then I wrote:"This is what you'll be looking up at tonight while you suck me off"

"Peter? I can't believe it. You're really him. You have to come over!"

I wanted to get his stuff and leave immediately, but the some of his friends got to the locker and ridiculed me for being a pussy and leaving without lifting. I don't know if it was Daniel's personality or something else in me, but I felt like I had to prove them wrong. And then I said things I didn't even know. Shit about cars, girls, FUCKING GIRLS. I even lifted without knowing how. This body was on autopilote.

I left early without saying anything. Bunch of messages from George waiting for me and being stressed out what happened. I explained and asked for his adress of his dorms.

The twink I used to talk to late at night was waiting for me in black compression shorts and black shirt.

"Heey...." was all I let him say out loud. I agressively pressed him against the wall and kissed him. Tongues twisting around each other, my teeth biting his lips, hands feeling up and down his body. Slowly we were working our way to his bed. I set him down and took of my shirt. He was visibly shocked, that his work colleague was now in front of him stripping down. I whip out my hard dick and pushed it into his face. He obliged immediately and worked his way with his tongue around the bright purple head of my new dick. He was working it like a pro, trying to swallow it whole, not gagging. But that didn't matter, I had to fuck his ass. Now.

I turned him around, not even stripping him, only pulling a bit of his shorts from his ass. I spit into my hand, got it on my dick and pushed myself in. He screamed out. But I didn't care, I just pused inside and kept thrusting. He was so tight. His ass was so tight around my shaft. I shot my cum inside of him. Pulling out and immediately searching for clothes to leave.

"You're leaving?!"

I snapped out. "Fuck, jesus George I am so sorry. I don't know what happened. I think Daniel's personality still had effect on me. I didn't mean to be so rough on you. Please forgive me."

"It's ok. It did hurt at first, but it was worth it. I still can't believe you're him now. And I lost my virginity with Daniel who I crushed over for years! That's so amazing!"

"Wait, this was your first time? But, you told me all the stories. Was none of it true? Jesus, George, maybe if I knew I would have fought Daniel's personality harder."

"I didn't expect we would me irl. I honestly didn't expect the spell would wrok, but here we are. Daniel is here. In my room. Wait, I have a great idea!" he started casting a spell

"Wait!" I wasn't fast enough to stop him.

But now I was looking at Daniel. From his point of view. Already feeling more submissive than in Daniel's body. The personality of the original body truly does have an effect on the one swapped inside.

George was now posing in front of the mirror. His eyes focused on his biceps and all the tense muscles.

I was now in George's twink body. I could feel his ass hurting from the sex with Daniel's body. I could feel the cum in his ass. I felt the attraction towards Daniel's body. But I didn't feel right like I did in Daniel's. I wanted to swap back.

George now got to his new dick, which was already throbbing hard again. How that's possible, I have no idea. But as soon as he started jerking his new cock he looked at me and I felt his predator eyes on me. Fuck, this is gonna hurt

The next morning I woke up sleeping next to George still in Daniel's body. We didn't sleep much tonight, but don't get me wrong, while the sex felt great I still couldn't shake the feeling that I was in the wrong body. As soon as George woke up I told him about my dysphoria with his body. He got mad. I could tell that Daniel's personality took over. And then few seconds later I found myself in my original body again already in my university lecture.

For several weeks George didn't answer my messages. I could only see as his Tumblr profile had more and more photos of Daniel's body in the gym etc.

Not only was I worried, but I had to admit to myself that I was extremely jealous. I was in that body first. I need it more than he did

I kept spamming him with messages and then one day he answered. The message said:"I need to fuck this guy in gym. I'll swap u with him tonight. Be ready". Man, I think it's better to have one body close to Daniel's rather than be far from him

He did as he said in the message. I woke up again in the bright gym. Now lifting. I proceeded to not cause suspicion.

This guy I was now in was really handsome. More muscular even than Daniel I dare to say. I could feel that his personality was not as strong as Daniel's. He seemed more kind in my eyes, but who knows who he is. I may not know before George tells me. I saw him on the other side of the room eyeing me. Stalking me even. I left the body on autopilote and finished the workout. His body was probably used to take photos after so I let him

Maybe I could stay in his body. He is really hot. And more handsome too. But I don't know. He is the type I would love to have as a boyfriend, not to be him.

I followed George to the showers. We were eventually the last people in the gym. I got into the lockers. Patiently waiting for him to speak.

"You're Mihai now. He's the owner of the gym. So we got the place for ourselves. Let's hit the showers"

I followe him. Mihai, what a nice name for this guy. I don't feel that Mihai is someone who would just follow others and do what they tell him to. Maybe I figured out how to overpower the personality of the person.

We got naked and stared at each other.

"Nah, this is wrong." and yet again he proceeded to perform his ritual

I was now Daniel again and was looking at Mihai. Now the reality of how he acted hit him. And as I suspected before, Miahi was irl a very nice guy. "I am so so so sorry Peter. I didn't know that Daniel had such a strong personality. I tohught I could fight it, but most of the time I just found myself being the passenger, but still enjoying his life. It's so weird. But I feel better now as Mihai. Maybe you should stay in Daniel's body for now. I'll learn to control the personality of others, just as you did and then we can safely try to swap with other people. What do you think?"

"I think" I said as I turned on the water in the showers "that you need a post workout shower. And that George and Mihai need to get to know themselves better" I smiled at him kneeling down to the nice hairy cock already waiting for my mouth

Few months later

Are you asking if we stayed in their bodies? Well yeah, kind off. We made their bodies our main ones. We got them to live together, start a relationship and now even if we swapped into other bodies Daniel and Mihai bodies continue what we established. Romantic right?

Me and George often take trips to some new locations travelling around the world, enjoying life of other people. Most of the time we try to find some straight friends travelling to foreign locations, trying to score some pussy there and slightly changing their vacation plans. Heh, there was this one time where we didn't even exit our hotel room. For a week. Crazy right? That was wild. But maybe I'll tell that story another time and tell you how our life in Mihai and George is proceeding

But now we are in the bodies of these two gym bro friends, waiting for the gay bar to open. See you

A story from messages we came up with while body swap roleplaying with @hunkpossesion

I changed the plot a bit, but still the hot bodies remained.

[stellamancer]

entreat (reader x yuta okkotsu)

notes: hellow hellow! this is actually my first time writing yuta ahaha. he's a sweet boy who deserves the world (like most of the rest of the cast). intially the idea for this fic was a bit different but, i think this is cute too.

this fic was a request written as part of the @/ficsforgaza initiative as a gift for @yutaleks. my requests are currently closed, but if you are interested please do check the ffg tumblr out! there are lots of writers participating!

contains: gn!reader, food (mentions of, eating and sharing), yuta okkotsu being a cutie patoot

Whenever Yuta travels for a mission, he always brings back souvenirs; boxes of ridiculously sugary sweets for Gojo, bags of interestingly flavored potato chips for Maki, eclectic and downright gimmicky foods for Panda and Toge and for you—

Yuta brings back things he wants to eat with you. 

It started with the first-ever souvenir he brought back for you, from the very first solo mission he received after being reinstated as a special grade. He'd given it to you to say thank you for your support because just saying it has never been an adequate expression of gratitude for Yuta. 

But he'd apologized too, as he handed you the box– cookies from Hokkaido using locally sourced butter and cream, the prefecture’s pride and joy. 

Yuta is maybe the only person you know who would say sorry when handing someone a gift. 

“Why?” you'd asked.

He looked embarrassed as he answered. “I didn't know what you would like, but I couldn't just not bring you anything so I… got something that I thought sounded good…” 

His face was the picture of guilt, like he had admitted to the most heinous crime in all of history– not knowing what you would have liked. 

“It's okay if you want to throw it away or give it to sensei! I won't get upset or mad!” 

You remember distinctly thinking that if Rika were still here, she would send you to the grave if you threw away Yuta’s gift. Instead of that, you started to open the box, peeling away the wrapping and the box top to reveal two neat little rows of individually packaged cookies. You’d plucked one out and offered it to Yuta. 

“You said you thought it sounded good right?” you had asked. 

Yuta only stared, obviously unsure of what to do. 

“Come on, take it.” 

He hesitated, clearly not wanting to partake in a gift meant for you and for a moment you both stood there, unmoving. 

“Come on, Yuta, please?” 

That had been enough to get him to give in. You remember being surprised that was all it took. He gingerly took the cookie from you, handling it like a treasure, and you’d grabbed one of your own, knowing there was no way Yuta would eat one if you didn't first.

You'd tucked the box under your arm to rip the packing open and with another thanks you popped the cookie in your mouth. 

Honestly speaking, it had been one of the best cookies you'd ever had; crisp, yet tender, with a subtle sweetness that was nothing short of addictive.

When you had finished it, you stared at Yuta intently. It took him a second to realize that you meant for him to eat his, too, and with both yet another apology and yet another thank you, he delicately tore open the package and ate the cookie. 

You watched as he chewed it thoughtfully, evaluating the flavor. And when he finished, you tilted your head to the side and asked, “So, did you like it?” 

You remember how he nodded and smiled, carefree and innocent– a look you had always felt suited Yuta best. 

In return, you’d offered him a smile of your own. “You don't need to go through the trouble of bringing me back anything, but if you do, bring stuff like this— that we can share.”

And Yuta did just that. 

Now, every time he comes back from a mission, he comes bearing souvenirs from all over Japan: chestnut daifuku from Nagano, gyoza senbei from Tochigi, Kobe pudding from Hyogo… the list goes on. Sometimes, it’s just one thing. And other times, he comes back with two or three, looking apologetic as he tells you that he just couldn't decide. 

You don't mind, though, you never do– in fact, you actually look forward to when he brings multiple. More to share means more time with Yuta.

And this time, this time is no exception, but….

“...this is an awful lot…” you say looking at the array of ten different boxes that Yuta’s brought back from his latest mission. 

“I'm sorry!” He apologizes automatically and then, just like always he adds. “It was so hard to choose… Everything sounded so good.”

He's not wrong. Every single thing he's brought back sounds absolutely delicious and catered specifically to your tastes. It kind of makes you wonder if he's been taking notes all this time, commiting the things you've liked to memory. 

“It's fine!” you insist. “I'm just not sure if we can finish all this together…” 

At least not all at once. The things that are individually wrapped should be fine, but there are a fair amount of things that are probably meant to be eaten in a single sitting. 

“...maybe we should see if the others want some too…” you murmur thoughtfully. It's been a while since all of you ate together, between missions and the like. It would be fun. 

Yuta makes a soft sound and you look toward him. He’s very obviously avoiding your gaze, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. You know him well enough to realize that means he's got something on his mind.

“What's up?” you ask. 

He doesn't say anything, not at first, but it's obvious he's debating whether or not to tell you. If you wait long enough, though, you think he'll say it. And sure enough, after a minute or two Yuta takes a deep breath and says, “I was actually hoping we could still just share everything just the two of us!” 

The words come out in a two-breath rush and you stare at him as the meaning of his words sink in. You did tell him to bring back things the two of you could share, it just never occurred to you that he thought that meant only the two of you. 

Yuta, on the other hand, looks mildly horrified, regret instantly visible, as if it was a mistake to voice his own desires, and so he adds. “But— but if you want to eat with everyone, that's fine! I can call Toge and Panda and–”

“Actually,” you interject and while you don't want to talk over Yuta you want him to know— need him to know that it's fine. It's fine for him to say what he wants, because not only will you always listen, you’ll—

“I take it back. I think we can eat this all ourselves. Just the two of us.”

You’ll never, ever refuse him. 

[crazilust]

Analyzing celebrities’ fashion according to their venus signs (pt.1)

I believe you can tell alot about someone just by looking at the clothes they've choose to wear. Let's analyze different celebrities' fashion and their venus sign (as well as the degree they're in) and give you some advice on how you can incorporate it in your own fashion style.

Aries venus

Audrey Hepburn

Even though we associate Aries venus with a very flamboyant style (and trust me, they can be and most of them are), I found important to put Audrey Hepburn as an example of someone who’s mastered the minimal, elegant fashion. Aries are very determinate and passionate individuals and once they have their eyes set on something, they’ll achieve it at all cost. I found it relevant in Hepburn’s style, because to me she achieved the quintessential minimalist fashion. She was able to balance being minimal while not being boring and basic, while staying true to herself. I think that’s one of the main strength of Aries venuses. They have to stay true to themselves, and when they do, they’re able to master their own fashion sense.

Also interesting to note that her venus is in a capricorn degree, which could also explain the more minimalist route.

Lady Gaga

On the other side of the spectrum, we’ve got Lady Gaga who also represents Aries venus perfectly. Her ability to tell a story with her clothes has become something we know and associate her for. Again, even if it’s completely different to Hepburn’s, you can still very much see Gaga’s need to be authentic to herself. Her style is a bit more tone down (see picture on the top right), but it’s still close to who she is as a person. It just evolved. Her willingness to be weird and over the top despite the constant misunderstanding of others and nagging, demands a lot of bravery and if that's not an Aries venus in a nutshell, I don't know what it is.

Her venus is in a Piscean degree (24), which could explain her intrinsic desire to use fashion as an art form and always push its boundaries.

Final take

If I were an Aries venus, I would take a long time reflecting on what I truly like, what type of person I am and how I want to be seen before buying anything. I would forget the trends and start investing in personal development in order to see how I could translate that into my clothes. Am I more a lowkey, mysterious kind of person? Flamboyant and over the top? The moment I’d be able to choose at least three words to describe me, I’d start building my closet around them and remind myself that I can go to extremes if I damn wanted to.

Taurus venus

Princess Diana

As a fellow Taurus venus, I’d be lying if I said that Princess Diana is not one of my main inspiration. To me, she represents perfectly what Taurus venus is all about. Simplicity, elegance and effortlessness. There’s a simplicity here, an ease that is very admirable from Princess Diana. It’s almost like she just threw this on but looks phenomenal as a result. It’s polished, but not forced at all and that’s where Taurus’ strength lies. Making it look easy. I also added her biker short outfit to represents Taurus’ need for comfort, but why not make it look cute? Also monochromatic looks to add that touch of put togetherness.

With her venus in 24 degrees (Pisces), we notice her tendency to break the mold and transcend beyond people's expectations. With today's eyes, it doesn't seem that groundbreaking, but at the time, and especially for a Royal, it was cra-zy (also the first one to be known for her fashion!)

Prince

What I wanted to focus on by putting Prince is his sensuality that I feel is overlooked alot when we talk about Taurus Venus. Or it's taken for granted almost. They have this little je-ne-sais-quoi that is so attractive and again, so effortless. Prince mastered this aspect so much and I find it very interesting. His clothes were a direct translation of how he felt about himself. Showing a little skin there, some see-through blouse here. Nothing extremely vulgar, but you get the message. I also wanted to put him there because whenever we think of Taurus venus celebrities, we always reference the most stereotypical ones like Ariana Grande and Lana del Rey. They most obviously embody the Venusian energy, but if you don't like this aesthetic, you can definitely be a little bit more out there just like Prince did.

With his venus in 7 degree, being a Libra degree, Prince was doubling down on his venusian energy, amping up the charm and sensuality while still being seen as charming.

Final take

What I would do (and should start to do actually) as a Taurus venus is focus on the quality of the clothes I put on my body, no matter the aesthetic or fashion choices. At the end of the day, Taurus look fabulous and effortlessly glam, but in order to enhance this trait, it's going to be important to invest in quality pieces in order to emanate this energy. I understand that not everybody wants to invest in clothes, but there's many ways you can do this without breaking the bank : thrift stores, depop, vinted (it might just take longer). Some signs can get away with cheap clothes, distressed clothing, but as Taurus venus, it definetely looks messy and not necessarily in a cute, grunge way lol.

Gemini venus

Margot Robbie

To my surprise, there's actually a lot of supermodels or sex icons/bombshells who possess a Gemini Venus. I say to my surprise, because I always see Geminis as kind of quirky, but it's true, they do embody the perfect balance of being hot but approachable (the twins archetype after all). It's like they can very well be the nerdy shy girl and the bombshell the next minute. I think you can actually see that in Margot Robbie's style where it's very Girl-Next-Door, but with an edge. The monochromatic pink look is to die for but switch the palette for a neutral look, platform for regular slippers and it's not as eye-catching. Without these two small details, you get a very basic look. I would've expected flamboyance, but from what I saw from these celebrities (ex: Kristen Bell, Sandra Bullock) is that they really embody the Model Off Duty vibes, where everything they put has a little edge to it while still appearing very approachable and mainstream. Which, when we think about it, is very reminiscent of Geminis.

Her Venus being in a Leo degree (8) could explain her tendency to want to be extra, lean more on the glamorous side and wear monochromatic colourful outfits

Megan Fox

Another route you could choose, as Megan Fox did, is to go push that Cool Girl fashion all the way and experiment fully with your closet, mixing and matching pieces with different textures and colours. Fox has always been known for her sex appeal and you can definitely see that in her fashion choices in the beginning of her career, but as of lately, she's been more avant-garde with her choices and honestly more fun. She definitely reminds me of the cool girls in my town walking around like they're just out of the fashion magazine, not giving a F about anything and you can't help but notice them.

Her venus is in 23 degrees, which is an Aquarius degree and could definitely explain her tendency to explore different styles and play with colours. Being very experimental.

Final take

What I would do if I were a Gemini Venus, is that I would learn my colours, my signature style and what goes best for my silhouette in order to put forward my best features. While this can be said for anyone, I think Gemini Venus is still very well thought out and in order to give that illusion of "I just got up", you're gonna have to know what makes you pop. As opposed to Taurus, for example, who can just rock an oversized hoodie and some boots and make it look elegant because that's what their energy gives off, Gemini is going to have to work a little bit harder. Experiment. Alot !

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That's it from me folks, I'll post part 2 containing Cancer, Leo and Virgo venus very soon :)