#anyway why are you people still here we haven’t posted anything in like a year

[pepprs]

omg i was feeling better for like 2 hrs but then i saw a post on here that is like maybe the worst thing ive read all day. and now i am feeling despair again

[matryosika]

Attraction, obsession, infatuation

Pairing — Hyunjin and fem!reader Wordcount — 7,680 words Includes — Explicit sexual content. Alcohol consumption, mentions of jealousy and possessiveness. Smut warnings under the cut. Summary — It is easier to hate than to admit loving. Alternatively, where Hyunjin realizes he might be tired of pretending he doesn't want to be more than just your toy. Author's Note — First 2024 full story! One of my New Year's resolutions was to keep on writing, since the last two years have been a bit too rough with my creativity and, overall, life. I hope I can continue posting stuff this year, but I literally can't ignore the fact that I am graduating college this June and that the adult life is, inevitably, catching up to me. Still, writing is something I love so I am determined to take this hobby very seriously, since it's one of the few things I enjoy! I hope you like this, please remember that english is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes in advanced. If you wish to support my work, please leave a comment, reblog or ask 💌 Post divider by @/cafekitsune

Smut Warnings — Dirty talk, (very) mild humiliation, oral sex (m. receiving), face fucking and deep throating, voyeurism, female (solo) masturbation), unprotected sex, penetrative sex, marking (and mentions of pain), dacryphilia, creampie.

Humiliating.

There is no other way to describe the situation that perfectly.

[21:19 p.m., Hyunjin: Seems like you got yourself a new toy]

[21:19 p.m., Hyunjin: You don’t want to play with me anymore?]

[21:20 p.m., Hyunjin: I mean, we both know why you agreed to come here in the first place. It's not like you're the best of friends with any of my roommates, anyways.]

You hate how right he always is —how shamelessly he speaks, how pridefully he carries that ego of him. 

People say there is a thin line between hatred and love, but they never talk about how tempting it is to walk on it. Especially because said line doesn't involve any of the former—if anything, that line represents all the carnal pleasures. 

Pure lust.

[21:21 p.m., You: Please]

[21:21 p.m., You: You’re so full of yourself, you know that?]

Hyunjin rolls his eyes right in front of you, tongue poking through his cheek while he reads your messages.

[21:22 p.m., Hyunjin: That never seems to be a problem when you're in my bed]

It's a never ending bickering. A never ending teasing. 

Hyunjin has always loved the thrill of doing things he isn't supposed to —no wonder why he ended up fucking you, out of all the women he knows. 

Attraction, obsession, infatuation. 

No amount of words could describe what happens between the two of you.

[21:23 p.m., You: I’m busy, in case you haven’t tell]

His cheeks grow hotter, killer eyes darting between you and the man you're talking to; appearing all sweet, gentle, collected, and everything you're not when you are with him. Your hand lays peacefully over your companion’s thigh, playfully hitting it when he says something remotely funny. 

Your smile hasn't worn off since you entered the party, and Hyunjin genuinely wonders if you’re that happy and comfortable to be around any other man. Inevitably, he begins to wonder if you'd let him touch you like he does, kiss you like he has. He stares at you two for a little too long, and questions if you'd let that man do everything Hyunjin is entitled to do with you. 

Would you let him treat you like he can? Let him fuck you like he does?

He chugs down the alcohol from his cup and uses that as an excuse to calm his masochistic urges, walking away from the scene he has been staring at for almost 10 minutes now. 

It's like pouring lime over a wound, like pulling out a loose tooth. It hurts, but it makes him feel something.

“If you didn't hate her I would say you're totally drooling over her,” a black-haired man that smiles teasingly with his eyes is quick to ambush Hyunjin as he makes his way to the kitchen. 

“What? Did your date get tired of you too early tonight?”

Changbin’s tongue pokes his cheek, and he can’t help but smile at Hyunjin’s moodiness. “She went to the bathroom, I just came here for some drinks”. 

“Well, get to it,” Hyunjin commands, stretching his shoulders in an attempt to release all the build-up tension over them.

“Man, you've been acting so out of your element lately,” Changbin remarks, placing a bottle of vodka and another of pineapple juice aside with two red solo cups. “You’re always in a fucking mood, this is actually the first time I see you outside your bedroom in like... a while”. 

Hyunjin won't admit it, but he is sulking. 

Because of college, because of work, because of things he can't begin to fix and because of you.

“Just busy, I guess,” he shrugs his shoulders. “Sorry I can't spend all day sticking my dick in different holes and doing an 8-hour shift at the gym”. 

Changbin scoffs bitterly under his breath, nose flaring at his friend's harshness. “Maybe that's exactly what you need,” he nods, pouring a drink for himself and his date, “a good fuck”.

He rolls his eyes. 

Yeah, maybe he needs that, but he also needs for you to stop touching your date's thigh, laughing amusingly loudly like you want him to hear how much of a great time you're having. Maybe Hyunjin needs to relieve all his anger on you, or he just needs for you to spare him a fucking glance because you haven't even looked at him since you walked in.

“Yeah,” he finally exhales, stealing the vodka bottle from Changbin’s grip to pour some onto his cup. He chugs it down quickly, and clears his throat when he feels the liquid burning inside, “that’s what I need”. 

Changbin pats his right shoulder and abandons the kitchen when he spots his date closing the bathroom door behind her. And Hyunjin is left alone once again, wondering if it's time to ditch the party and lock himself inside his room or if he should hurt himself a bit more to get a grip on reality.

Inconveniently, he chooses the latter. Resting his hips against the kitchen counter, and turning his back on the full view of the living room, Hyunjin begins to thread a line of questions that may never have a proper answer. 

Had he met you in another context, and in a distinct light, would things be different? Would your dynamic be different?

Maybe he would've apologized when he had time, for all the useless bickering that always took place between the two along the friend group. Had he surrendered to your stubbornness, rather than putting up a fight like it's typical from him, would the anguish be less?

Now that he reflects on it, Hyunjin can't even tell why you two hate each other these days. He never questioned it, the hatred you felt for each other, but he no longer knows why it's still there. Maybe it was a first impression, maybe it was a dumb comment or joke he cracked when you were introduced to the friend group. Maybe it was the fact that you two are so alike, personality wise, that you never seemed to get on.

Maybe you keep on hating each other because that's how it always has been, because there hasn't been a room to question the "what if's". 

Or maybe you hate him just for being him, and the only thing you've come to mend with is the fact that he is nothing more than a good fuck.

His heart aches because of this last thought, and he stares at his phone screen for a bit too long, hoping to get a text from you. But you're busy, you said it yourself, and he is just feeling out of place. 

“Hey,” the familiar voice it's enough for him to lift up his eyes from his phone, encountering a sheepishly grinning, red-eyed Jisung. “Changbin told me you’re in a mood, again”.

“He should put his mouth to good use,” Hyunjin rolls his eyes. 

“He is worried about you though,” his friend says. “We all are, you know”. 

Hyunjin sighs, “I’m fine”. 

“Dude, come on,” Jisung drags his words lazily. “It’s about her, right?”

He shoots a killer gaze at him, “about who?”

If Jisung hadn't been higher than the fucking Empire State, he would've considered Hyunjin’s gaze a threat. But his mind is not precisely paying attention to any social cues, so he proceeds to say your name as a response. 

"You should stop smoking that shit ever so often, you know?" he spits in annoyance, "it's making you delusional".

“Yeah, right man,” Jisung nods. “And you can keep being angry with the world just because you can't be angry with her”. 

It disgusts Hyunjin how poetic that sounds, but his friend isn't too far from the truth —he would much rather project his anger and annoyance onto everyone else before you.

Because if you call, if you look for him, if you text him and ask him to see you, he will always be available. Even when he is not. Even when he has a ton shit to do. Even if all you want is his dick and a couple of dirty words. 

Every time you ask, Hyunjin will give you anything you want.

“We don't have to talk about her though. Just wanted to check up on you,” his friend continues after an excruciatingly long silence, patting one of his shoulders like Changbin did before. 

“There’s nothing to talk about, anyways,” Hyunjin says.

“Are you on, like, bad terms?” 

“We’re not on any terms,” again, the urge to deny everything. It's always easier to pretend nothing it's going on than admitting there's a huge fucking elephant in the room. “We fuck, occasionally, and that's it. Not friendship, not intimacy, not trivial conversations about each other's days”. 

“Well, that's some sort of the ideal to a fuck buddy relationship,” Jisung tilts his head. “It’s supposed to work”. 

It should. 

And it did, for a while —when the feelings were minimum and could be repressed, when the anger only translated to hatred and annoyance, and not jealousy and possessiveness.

These days, it's just not enough.

“Yeah well,” Hyunjin scoffs bitterly, holding the almost empty bottle of alcohol to his lips. 

Thank God he isn't a light weight, because he would've been screwed by now. Vodka isn't his greatest match, but neither are you and he knows he has to sacrifice something tonight —whether it’s his rationality or his heart. 

“Alright,” he finally exhales, pushing the empty bottle away from the edge of the counter. “I’m going back to my room”.

"Already?"

“That's the beauty of people using your apartment to host a fucking party, I guess,” Hyunjin says, leaning down to one of the kitchen pantries to grab his favorite bottle of wine. “You can just walk a minute and be in the comfort of your own bed”. 

“Haven’t you drunk too much?” Jisung asks. 

“Definitely not enough,” the dark-haired replies, grabbing both the bottle and a glass with one of his hands. “Tell Jeongin to kick everyone out by 2, I’m not paying for another noise complaint again”. 

And as he makes his way to his room, it's inevitable for Hyunjin not to spare a glance at the couch you were once sitting on. But his eyes meet Changbin and his date instead, without any trace of you or the man you were with. And he doesn't know if he should feel relieved or worried because you're no longer in his eyesight, and as comforting as that thought should be is nothing more than anguish-inducing.

He says goodbye to some of his friends, and also deals with Changbin’s insistence to stay around before he is able to lock himself inside his room. It was, at best, a 3 minute situation from the kitchen to his bed, but it felt like ages. Mostly because his eyes kept on scanning the whole apartment, hoping to find something that could tell him you're still there and you didn't leave the party with that man although you probably did. 

Much to his surprise, when he opens the door to his room, he finds you sitting at the edge of his bed.

You don't say anything, and neither does he. So you two stare at each other for a while before Hyunjin closes the door right behind him, leaving the wine and glass on a small table by the door.

“Wine? At a college party?” You finally interrupt the silence, using that playful, teasing tone you always use when you want to get on his nerves. “You really are something else”. 

Typical Hyunjin would think of a comeback rather quicker than the speed of light —he has always been witty and good with his words, and that's something you find utterly, despicably attractive in him. 

But after 4 shots of vodka and an unamusing mood, all he wants it’s to kick you out and plop down onto his bed. 

“Weren’t you busy?” he asks in a murmur, too lazy to make himself be heard. But it is loud and clear for you to hear, even with the bustling coming from down the hall.

“He bored me,” you admit. “Kept talking about his football team, and how he is going to work at his father's company once he graduates”. 

Hyunjin lets out a bitter and quiet scoff, giving you his back while he pours some wine onto his glass. You can’t fool him, even if you try like right now.

But he attempts to ignore his rapid heartbeats by keeping a nonchalant, even annoyed countenance, albeit a part of him can't ignore the fact that you're in his room. 

Just you and him, finally.

“Are you going back to the party or…”

“I’m tired,” he cuts you short, chugging down the wine like it's a shot of anything else. Can't care less about etiquette when all he wants is to lose his sobriety along with his rationality. “I want to sleep”. 

“It’s 10:30,” you tease him, cocking one of your eyebrows and giving him that look that always makes him feel ridiculous.

On any other day, that would've been fuel to erase that smile off of your face by pushing it onto the pillows while he fucks you from behind.

Tonight, though, it just blatantly stings. 

“So?” The coldness in his voice makes you shudder, and when he doesn't respond like he usually does it's when you realize there's something different going on.

You and Hyunjin don't share that kind of intimacy. You don't tell him your problems, and he doesn't tell you his problems either. You don't comfort each other through words or romantic touches. You don't give words of encouragement and you don't talk things through.

If there's something to say, you do so through sex. 

But right now, that you've interrupted his night, you feel somewhat compromised to ask if he is alright.

“Bad day?”

Bad week, bad month, bad year, a bad fucking life.

“Don’t have to act like you care,” Hyunjin says, resting his hips against the furniture while he pours himself another glass of wine.

The comment catches you off-guard. First and foremost, because you're not quite sure you don't care about him at all. And second, because he is making it seem like you are the reason behind his bad mood.

But if he doesn’t want to talk, you’re not going to force him to. After all, you’re in his room for one reason, and one reason only. 

“Shit, sorry for asking,” you murmur, gripping the edge of the bed sheets with both of your hands. It's a common ground you've walked in, thousands of times. You've been in his bed for far more times than you can remember, and you've fucked a lot more than you can count. So you're not afraid of asking the question: maybe you should release some stress?

Hyunjin knows what you mean. He knows the sexual connotations of it, and knows that’s exactly the reason why you're in his room. 

On any other day, Hyunjin would've taken your word. But right now, when his eyes can only focus on the crimson bruise on your neck, the proposition enrages him.

He walks towards you, completely towering over your figure. One hand holds the glass of wine, while the other cups your face and maneuvers it harshly, leaving the hickey for him to see. 

“He bored you?” The way he spits such a question makes your heart skip a beat. Don’t leave a rough mark, you told the guy, just a faint hickey. Of course he wouldn’t care, and neither did you —otherwise you would’ve checked yourself in the mirror before approaching Hyunjin wearing someone else’s lovebites, “or he just wasn't the one you wanted to fuck tonight?”

You move your head away from his touch with a swift movement, immediately missing the warmth of his skin against yours, "does that even make a difference?"

But it doesn't.

In the end, you only look for him because you want a good fuck and it seemed like your date just couldn't get the job done.

Not because you want him, particularly. 

“No,” Hyunjin replies coldly. “But you should at least have some decency, you know?”

You know he isn't teasing you, like he always does. He is not saying all this to get a reaction from you, and that unsettles you.

He is acting and saying such things because he means them. Because he feels like them.

“Since when do you care about what I do or I don't?” you ask him, the tone in your voice increasing as Hyunjin’s gaze intensifies.

“You can do whoever the fuck you want,” he murmurs, uncrossing his arms to grip at the edge of the furniture behind him.

“Well, I want to do you”. 

“Maybe tonight I don’t,” Hyunjin gulps down the wine, having a way harder time swallowing the euphoric sensation of his ego rather than the alcohol coming down his throat.

 And you stare at him like he just said something controversial. Something weird, something unusual coming from him.

“You’re lying,” you say, darting him a challenging look. “You always want me”. 

“Why would I want something that everyone can have?” 

It’s his anger talking. His rage, his uncertainty, his jealousy. 

You're not wrong. He wants you, he always has and most likely always will. 

But he is too proud to admit it, both to you and himself. Especially after you’ve walked into his room with the ghost of another man’s hands and lips, wearing a mark on your skin that will never compare to how Hyunjin has been allowed to mark you.

“So that’s the issue?” you defy him, standing up from the edge of his bed to walk forward. “You’re acting like this just because I was with someone else?”

Your mocking tone makes it seem like it's something ridiculous and irrational, but you've aced your initial hypothesis.

You are the reason behind his bad mood.

“Just get out,” Hyunjin says, tense jaw and cold eyes locked into yours. “You're getting on my nerves”. 

Your tongue pokes through your cheek and you look at him in disbelief —you feel taken aback because of how he is acting, and you want to blame it on the alcohol he has ingested throughout the night. But he looks sober, and way more serious than his immature facade has ever made him appear.

“If I wanted to be with someone else tonight, I would’ve left your apartment a fucking hour ago,” the boldness in your voice only challenges Hyunjin to this staring contest he didn't know he is playing. Without blinking, without parting his gaze away, all his undivided attention is on you, and the way you're spitting your words like you're truly the one with a reason to be angry. 

Needless to say, your audacity only infuriates him further.

“If you wanted to be with me, you would’ve come into my room the second you step a foot into the apartment,” he shoots back, straightening his body against the furniture and causing it to move an inch closer to you, “I mean, you know the way well, don’t you?” 

He raises one of his eyebrows, and it’s embarrassing. 

Pathetically embarrassing. 

Stupidly idiotic.

“You've crawled on all fours from the door to my room before,” Hyunjin continues, tilting his head while his gaze falls from your eyes to your parted lips, “I'm sure that was enough for you to remember the path fairly well”. 

It was one time, you say to yourself. And you'd rather die than having to admit such a humiliating thing to anyone other than him. 

You'd rather die than having everyone know what you allow Hyunjin to do to you. You'd rather disappear into thin air than having to deal with the judgemental gazes from all of your friends.

The Hwang Hyunjin? The one you say you can't stand? The one that gets on your nerves because of how childish he is? The one you tell your friends you'd turn down a thousand times even if he was the last man standing on earth?

“Go fuck yourself, Hwang,” you're so close to him you can practically taste the red wine off of his lips. You're breathing the same air, hearts beating at the same rate.

You want him worse than you wanted him before —you like the feeling of his jealousy and his possessiveness. You like it when his hatred towards you transforms into hatred to anyone who dares to touch you; no one is allowed to have you like he is entitled to, and no one is allowed to hate you the way he does.

So he leaves the empty glass of wine behind, and guides one of his hands to your heated cheeks. He caresses it, pushing away the hairs from your face —the intimate touch might feel out of place and context, but you know damn well it's nothing more than the calm before the storm. 

A calling.

A warning.

You know Hyunjin more than you'd ever want to admit, and you crave him worse than you'd ever allow yourself to think.

"God fucked you up by giving you this shitty ego,” he murmurs, brushing his lips ever so slightly against yours. It seems as if Hyunjin walked right into your trap without knowing, blinded by instincts and completely ignoring the awful show you put up earlier with a man you don't even know his name, “and he fucked me up even more for making me like it”. 

It all happens in a fraction of second, too fast for you to catch some air and too sloppy for you to get the kiss right.

You're tasting the red wine, and his rage, and the longing lust you are always demanding from him whenever your body is against his. He kisses you ardently, teasing your tongue and biting your lower lip trying to fill you up just with him —to get rid of whoever kissed you first that night, and to intoxicate you with all of him for whoever will kiss you next.

One of his hands wraps around your figure, pressing you tighter against him, while the other swims through the roots of your hair, already in position to manhandle you like he knows he can.

The way he knows you want him to.

And you don't stop him when you feel the sting in your scalp, forcing you to break the kiss and down to your knees right in front of him in a careless way that will probably leave bruises.

“Said you wanted to do me?” Hyunjin asks, unzipping his pants with his available hand while the other holds your head still, despite your efforts to wipe away the drool from your lips and the hair sticking to your cheeks with his spit. “I’m right fucking here, do me”. 

You look at him with loathing but it is nothing more than a projection: you hate yourself for how much you needed this. 

For how much you need him.

“Don’t give me those eyes,” he falsely pouts, but the sound gets drowned in a grunt when he wraps his hand around his dick to stroke it a few times before guiding your mouth to the tip of it, “you want this”. 

His gaze finds yours in the midst of the struggle, and the only way you can think of letting him know you're consenting to this is by sticking your tongue out and licking the tip of his cock, collecting all his salty precum and tasting it like you've been starving for it.

At the sight, Hyunjin chuckles lowly. Still as cold, still as enraged.

“Did you suck him off too?” he asks, using the grip on your hair as his favor —with ease, he slams his hips against your mouth, letting the tip of his cock reach parts of your throat that are still tense. “Does he taste as good as I do?”

Hyunjin doesn't need to know that you planned this all along —that you purposely did everything to get him jealous. He doesn't need to know that you like the thrill of it, of watching his possessive and jealous side.

He doesn't need to know that you utterly adore when he fucks you like he actually hates you. Like you mean nothing and everything to him at the same time.

Hyunjin doesn't need to know a lot of things, so you tag along with the fantasy of everything you've yet to deny.

“Relax,” more than a soothing word, it’s an order. He maneuvers your head all along his length, applying more pressure when your nose hits his pubic bone and then forcing you away to let you breathe. “You’ve taken this cock before, you know exactly how to do it”. 

You try to regain control of your body, and your rationality, but it seems a rather useless task —when you're with Hyunjin, he is the one that does the thinking for you. When you're with him, you can't think of anything else but him, his voice, his eyes, the way he touches and kisses you, the way he tastes and the way he feels inside you.

“Too big,” you gasp in between thrusts of his hips against your lips. Your hand flies to reach the base of his cock, but he is quick to force you backwards with the grip on your hair.

“Do not touch me”.

“Hyun-”

“I said, do not touch me,” he repeats when you try to touch him again. “Do you really think you can go around touching other men and I won't do anything about it?”

Hyunjin wishes he wasn’t as prideful as he is —if he could swallow his ego easily, he could have your hands all over his body by now. But he is proud, and vengeful, and stubborn. No matter how much his skin is burning to feel the softness of yours against it, he needs to make his point.

“You’re- you can’t be serious,” you struggle between moans, with a voice so hoarse it's barely audible. 

“There’s the door,” he forces your head towards it, “you can leave if you don’t like it”. 

Your doe eyes, filled with anger and defy, dart between him and the door. Hyunjin is always the one in control, you're not really unfamiliar with that —the fact that he is acting like this, offering you a way out if you’re not willing to do things his way, makes you feel uneasy and curious.

You choose to stay only for the latter. Not because of anything else, right?

Right?

You don’t say anything, but fix your gaze on the man in front of you. 

And Hyunjin gets it, he gets the look you're giving him. That, paired with the fact that you're not doing anything to get away from his grip, tells him that you're more than willing to keep on going, so he continues manhandling you around.

“C’mere,” he mutters when guiding your head along his cock again, making you swallow him full without giving you any kind of warning whatsoever, “just like that”. 

You're gagging, and tearing up, and clearly struggling to take all of his cock. But never have you felt this hungry, and never have you felt this emptiness between your legs that only Hyunjin seems to be able to fill.

Your hands ache for his flesh, and so desperately you want to sink them on his thighs or ass; intertwine them with his, latch your fingers against his and squeeze them while you prove to him that he's the only one that gets to fuck your mouth like this. 

“Please,” you cry out when he gives you a break to catch some air, “I need- let me touch you, please”. 

"Should've thought of it before putting your hands on someone else," he hissed, brushing your hair wet with drool and tears away from your face. “Should’ve thought about me before running to another man”. 

“Hyunjin”.

Oh, how pretty his name sounds falling from your lips —especially when accompanied with sobs and whimpers. You're always so cool and collected, like you control everything and everyone around you. You never cry, never show anyone else a crevice of what you truly are, but he is the only one that gets to see you like this. The only one you really trust, the only one you give control to.

If you hate him that much, why do you always come crawling back to him?

If you hate him that much, why is he the only one that gets to use you like this?

And if you hate him that much, why can't Hyunjin forget what he truly feels about you?

“What?”

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, cleaning your mouth and chin with the back of your hand. “I’m fucking sorry, okay? I’m sorry”. 

“For what exactly?” He is so close to you, you can feel the tip of his nose brushing against yours and get drunk on the wine that lingers in his breath. He is so close to you, he almost can't resist the urge of crashing his lips against yours again and taste himself off of you. 

“I don’t know,” you look at him with teary eyes. You feel like crying, and Hyunjin can tell. “I don’t know, it’s just- I’m sorry, okay? If that’s what you want to hear, then I’m sorry”. 

His eyebrows furrow.

“That doesn’t mean anything,” he says. “Your apologies mean nothing to me”. 

Your heart stings, and it is unusual. He is unusual, painfully real unlike all the times you've pretended to hate each other just for the dynamic.

Blame it on the alcohol, or the stress he has been feeling lately, or the fact that you've been nothing but a brat these days, but Hyunjin is angry. And hurt.

“Your actions, on the other hand,” it's all he tells you with his bright eyes boring into yours. “I want you to show me how sorry you truly are”. 

“Wha-”

He maneuvers you from the floor to his bed, forcing you on your back against the sheets you've grown to know fairly well. Your body writhes under him, and you fight back the urges to wrap your arms around his neck and force his body close to yours. 

“How- am I supposed to show you?” you ask in between the struggle, moving your body to Hyunjin’s will. With your help, he unbuttons your jeans and scatters them along the floor, just like your blouse and underwear.

He lets out a soft scoff, blowing air through his nose, amused. "As if you don't know me that well".

And because you know him well, you can't avoid the eerie feeling of fear that settles up in the deepest pits of your chest when his cold gaze makes contact with yours.

“What are you going to do to me?” You ask, with your heart ringing loudly in your ears.

“You should be asking what you're going to do for me, instead,” he murmurs, caressing the sides of your body with a creepy delicacy that doesn't match his demeanor at all. "Don't you want to be forgiven?" It's a rhetorical question, you know that much. And you do want to be forgiven, but you're not quite sure what twisted idea Hyunjin has of an apology. 

So you stay quiet, and hope for the best.

“You said you wanted me, right?” He asks yet again, fixing his eyes on yours. You just nod. “Cat got your tongue?”

“Yes,” you rush to say, “yes, I said I want you”. 

“How bad?”

The endless teasing is making you frustrated, but you're used to that. However, you're not used to feeling tears prickling at the corners of your eyes with each second that passes by.

You need him desperately. You need his kiss, and tongue, and hands on every part of your body that you'd never allow anyone else to touch.

No matter how much you say you dislike Hyunjin.

“So fucking bad,” you cry out, kicking you head back against the pillow.

Hyunjin hums, peppering wet and sloppy kisses over your tummy and inner thighs. You feel his breath so close to your wet center that you can only hope he gives you the attention you need. 

But that is not going to happen any time soon, and you know that.

“Fuck yourself,” he commands you, kneeling between your spread legs on top of his bed, “prove to me that you want me”.

You know the catch, know why Hyunjin is asking you such a thing.

He never does, unless he wants to punish you. And albeit not a rough punishment, there's nothing sweeter than watching you fall apart in frustration, to watch you deny yourself because he said so, to see you squirming in pain because you overstimulated yourself.

But then again, you'd do anything he says, just to be one step closer to him.

So you comply, with your index and middle finger shaking in anticipation as they make contact with your folds. Slowly but surely, you start fulfilling his demand —bitterly, with a look of disdain. 

One of his hands spread your legs further, and he stays kneeling between your thighs as he watches you. 

Impatient, eager, angry.

“I don’t have all day,” he finally snaps after a good 30 seconds of you just timidly teasing yourself. You can’t admit it out loud, but it is embarrassing —to have his eyes all over you but not his hands, to have your legs spread for someone who has no interest in touching you.

It's also embarrassing how wet you are by all of this. By his attitude, his anger and his jealousy.

“Sorry,” you barely mumble, sinking two fingers inside your throbbing pussy. 

You feel nothing. Not pain, nor pleasure. Just nothing.

“One more,” Hyunjin tells you and you comply. But after getting used to him and his size, nothing fills you up anymore. 

“You don’t- you don’t expect me to come just by this, do you?” You ask with a nervous scoff, biting down on your lower lip as you pull your fingers out just to thrust them inside again.

Hyunjin doesn't answer, and that only fuels your anguish even more. Instead, he fixes his eyes on your fingers, and the way they glisten with your wetness. He focuses on the sounds they make, and how warm you must feel after all the teasing.

You let out a whine, but it is not out of pleasure. It's a frustrated whine, a desperate one. You kick your head back, and fuck yourself harder with your fingers.

All your efforts are pointless.

“Don’t you dare,” Hyunjin warns you when your other hand slips to touch your clit. 

“I- I can’t just come with this,” you groan.

“How is that my problem?” 

It is humiliating —the way he is looking down on you, the way he is clearly amused by how stupid you must look right now touching yourself without feeling anything.

“Keep on going,” he tells you, licking his lips, “you won’t stop until you come”.

You shake your head and kick it against his pillow, trying to go impossibly deeper in hopes of finding that spot inside of you that only Hyunjin seems to know well.

Again, pointless.

“Come on,” you whine, now really on the brink of tears, “don’t do this to me”. 

“You did this to yourself,” he simply says, and his digits graze against your naked legs. 

The stimulation on your flesh is enough for you to clench around your fingers, and Hyunjin lets out a twisted smile when he sees the goosebumps flowering.

“Hyunjin”. 

“Can’t come by yourself?” He asks with a fake empathy, “you need me for that, right?”

You know where this is heading, and you’re willingly letting him lead you that way —you nod, swallowing thickly. 

“Yes,” you admit, hoping such a confession is enough to do something. Anything.

“Am I the only one who can make you come?”

“Yes, Hyunjin,” there's an inner conflict between your lust and your ego —you wish to fight back, but your mind is already surrendering. Your answer isn't far from the truth anyways, so why is it so difficult to admit it out loud? “Yes, you’re the only one”. 

“That’s what I thought,” he whispers quietly, dragging the tip of his digits along your spread thighs.

You’re aroused and whriting in anticipation, You’re aroused and trembling in anticipation, your whole body is ready for him, anything he wants to give you, and he can tell.

That's probably the worst part of it all —your mouth can always voice how much you hate him, but your body will keep on betraying you every time.

“I can’t,” you murmur, relentlessly trying to get yourself to your high, “I can't do this on my own anymore, you're the only one who can”. 

It's embarrassing to admit such a thing, both to him and yourself —it's not like you're saying so just to get what you want.

You're saying so because it's the truth, because not even you nor your toys can get you to come like Hyunjin does. 

“Remember that every time you even think about being with someone else,” Hyunjin’s body hovers over you, fitting perfectly between your open legs. “No one is going to make you feel like I can”. 

You drown a moan when you feel his clothed erection pressing against your folds. The fabric of his pants is rough, but your body unconsciously grinds on it.

“Just fuck me, Hyunjin,” you beg, wrapping your legs around his hips and feeling his warmth spreading from your chest to your limbs, “please, please, please”.

He needs you just as much.

And his intention was never to deny you, but to remind you that you belong to him. Whether you want to admit it or not, whether you even know it —your body responds to Hyunjin, and Hyunjin only. 

“Patience is a virtue, you know?” He scoffs, sneaking a hand between your bodies to slide the tip of his dick against your folds, “I spent all night looking how someone else got his hands all over you”.

You tremble underneath him, begging for anything he might want to give you. 

“It wasn’t a pretty sight, you know?” Hyunjin continues, “it kills me that no one knows you're mine”. 

Your heart skips a beat at his rageful words, as you breathe the same oxygen that leaves his lungs. 

“Hyunjin”. 

“I hate the fact that I just can’t kiss you when I feel like it,” he presses his forehead against yours, taunting your lips with his. “Can’t even fuck you when I want, without caring if someone hears or not”. 

There's a pinch of frustration and despair in his voice. Like he is asking you to read between the lines, to give some sense to his words.

“We hate each other, don’t we?” You remind him, digging your nails in the flesh of the sides of his body.

“Do you really think this is hate?” He asks, and presses his hips against yours. You feel his hardened length getting coated with your wetness, and you can’t help but moan. 

“Everybody thinks we can’t stand each other,” you wrap your legs around his hips, forcing him to make a move. And as if on cue, he gets what you’re demanding —he slides the tip of his dick in, so easily that it's hard to believe your body wasn't perfectly made for him.

“But no one knows what we do behind their backs, do they?” He asks, grunting quietly when he finally bottoms out, “they don’t know how good we fuck each other, how good we make us feel”. 

It's not the time to pause and reflect about the dynamic you've shared with Hyunjin over the past year. It's also not the time to think about what could happen if you were to reveal to your closest friends what you and Hyunjin have. 

It's exciting to keep things a secret, but you're not quite sure how long you can go without one of you getting tired of it.

It's not the time, and you don't dwell on it because you soon feel Hyunjin's hips slowly pulling and then bottoming out again. The sudden hit of his pubic bone against your swollen clit sends shivers down your spine, and you hug him tightly against you.

“Because you make me feel so good,” he murmurs, leaving a wet trail of kisses from your lips, to your chin and jaw, “so fucking good”. 

You clench around him at his words, and he lets out a raw moan. 

“You too,” you swallow thickly, “you too- make me feel so good”. 

“Just me?”

“Just you Hyunjin- fuck,” you bite down the flesh on his shoulders when his hips snap against yours, making your whole body jolt, “like that, fuck me like that”. 

With painfully slow but hard strokes, Hyunjin pounds his dick inside your wet pussy.

The lewd noises it makes, paired with his skin hitting yours, drowns his bedroom. They also drown the bustle behind the door, the faint voices of those who are still outside partying and drinking.

Those who don't know how much you love fucking Hyunjin, and how much he loves fucking you.

“I have to make sure it's only me who gets to have you like this,” and with that being said, he sinks his teeth and nibbles at the flesh where burgundy and purple bruises rest. 

You arch your back in pain, feeling your neck burning. He holds you in place as you writhe beneath him, placing all his weight over you to prevent you from squirming away from him.

“It’s just a little pain,” his soft voice coos, grabbing the sides of your neck with one of his hands while his lips attack the love bites made by someone else, “nothing compared to what you made me feel tonight”.

Your heart starts beating faster at his words.

“I’m sorry,” tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but you still let Hyunjin mark you. 

You want him to, anyway. No matter how painful it can be.

“I know you are,” he hums, satisfied with the way you’re clenching around him. 

He kisses your flesh softly, trying to soothe the pain away, and you move your hips, desperate to have him moving inside of you again.

He loses no time into it, holding his weight back off of you to continue on fucking you.

“You look so pretty now,” he twistedly smiles, with a bead of sweat dripping down his forehead and nose, “my lips and teeth look so good on you”. 

The minute he bites down his lower lip and his eyes go blank, you start feeling the tension building up inside your abdomen. You’re close, and you’re desperate to come.

“Hyunjin,” one of your hands holds his bicep, while the other makes a mess of the bed sheets beneath you.

“Not yet,” he warns you, and at that you let out a frustrated sound, “hold it a bit longer, come with me”. 

You close your eyes shut and kick your head back, hoping that if you don't look at him, you can prolong the time before you come. But he is fucking you so good, and his dick is hitting all the right spots inside of you, that you really don't think you can hold it as long as he wants you to.

“Please,” you cry out, this time tearing up. You can’t help it —the tears fall from your closed eyes without a warning. They stain your cheeks, and get lost in the crook of your neck that is still burning with Hyunjin’s love bites. 

“Open your eyes,” his hand cups your face, and you snap them open as a reflex, “let me see you crying”.

His words ignite a fire inside you, just as much as your tears do to him. His cock twitches at the sight of your clouded eyes and the way they beg for his release.

It’s the first time he sees you cry, 

and it shouldn't arouse him as much as it does. He knows what's behind those tears, and maybe that's the reason why he is enjoying them.

Frustration, rage, despair, attraction, obsession, infatuation.

He buries his nose on the flesh of your cheek and kisses your tears, one by one, as he continues pounding himself inside of you. 

“Can’t-” you murmur, digging your nails on his shoulders. Hyunjin hisses at that. “I can’t hold it”. 

“Give it to me,” he finally exhales, increasing the movements of his hips. And you comply —you give your orgasm to him, squeezing his cock almost aggressively. Your body trembles and he hugs it tightly, fucking you through your high as he comes with you.

“Fuck, Hyunjin,” at one point, your body goes limp —the pleasure becomes too strong that you melt into his arms. 

He moans your name, over and over again, until his voice becomes a whisper, and his hips relax into yours. His body rests on top of you, hugging you, pressing kisses to your forehead and temples while you wrap your arms around him. He doesn't pull out, and you don't want him to —at least not yet.

Sex with Hyunjin always goes a little bit like this, but it never feels as intimate as it does right now.

Your sweating bodies are pressed against each other, and your hearts are beating at the same rate. Your mouth tastes like red wine, despite you not having drunk any, and Hyunjin’s chest smells like your perfume. 

The crescent moon-like imprints from your nails are still pulsing on his shoulders and back with desire, and your neck still burns with his possessiveness.

It seems as though you two are one, and it is impossible to deny it.

If hate is another synonym for infatuation, you might as well be willing to hate each other until death.

[starsstuddedsky]

Tangled in Love

vernon x reader

summary: there's nothing in the world that vernon loves more than cats. at least, that's what you think

genre: fluff, tiny bit of angst, non-idol!au, uni au, f2L, idiots to lovers, fake dating if you squint, technically university au

warnings: none!

wc: 3.8k

a/n: started this a WHILE ago and finished it like a month ago but i wanted to let it sit lol,,, may or may not have been the other option for the poll i put out and then i may or may not have forgotten to post.... anyways i am working for literally the whole summer until school starts again so i can't promise i'll be writing a whole bunch </3 so basically: enjoy bc idk when anything else will come lol (not going on official hiatus though!! just like... limbo) pls pls feel free to drop in anytime and chat!! also requests are open but again,, i'll write when i write lol

tldr: adulting sucks, i love you all, none of this has to do with the actual story lol

Vernon’s car sits in your driveway. The sight of his little red sedan evokes a strong sense of familiarity, almost as if it’s yours. It’s survived high school and his first three years of college, up till now, though the engine sometimes shakes the car a little too much and the air conditioning chooses to work less often than you would prefer. Still, the one time Vernon mentioned getting a new car, you nearly cried, so you don’t let yourself complain too much. 

He waits for you, keys in hand, as you tug on your shoes and sprint out the door with a shout of goodbye to your parents. Your shoes nearly slip off because you didn’t put them on all the way and they’re still untied when you make it to the front seat, slamming the door shut behind you and pulling on your seatbelt. 

“You didn’t have to rush,” Vernon says, barely sparing a glance at you. You do a supreme job pretending it doesn’t bother you. 

“Yeah, but my dad is watching hockey,” you say. Though it’s been years since Vernon has been to your house for a “play date,” you know the memory of your father yelling at the television as if the players can hear him isn’t one that Vernon (or anyone for that matter) can forget easily. 

“You know if you move out, you don’t have to hear them,” he says, finally glancing at you before turning his head to watch the road as he backs down the driveway. 

“If I move out, I also have to pay my bills on my own,” you say. 

“You have three job offers and you haven’t even graduated yet,” Vernon says. “Of all our friends, you are the most financially stable, so don’t you dare try that argument on me.” This debate has been going on ever since Vernon announced he was moving out; two years in the dorms on campus proved more than enough for him. 

You don’t understand why he’s so insistent about you moving out. Sure you complain about your parents occasionally but not enough to really matter, and he knows how grateful you are that they’ve let you stay in your childhood room and rarely let you pay for anything. 

So why? You set your eyes on him, with his annoyingly perfect features that you’ve known most of your life. He studies the road, indifferent to your glare and undistracted. 

That’s the Vernon you know: focused on the moment, and never noticing you. You know how pitiful you sound, pining for someone for so long who has never once spared you a second look. Still, before everything else, he’s your friend, your best friend. You won’t ruin that just because you caught feelings. 

“Why are we going an hour away again?” You ask, resting your back against the cushioned seats and turning your head to the window to watch the scenery pass by. It’s easier to avoid thinking about those feelings when you aren’t staring at him. 

“Because the people running the rescue needed a volunteer to pick up the kittens.” 

“And why am I here?” 

“So I don’t get kidnapped or murdered,” Vernon says nonchalantly. 

“How am I going to prevent you from getting kidnapped or murdered?” 

“Strength in numbers?” He takes his eyes off the road for half a second to flash a smile at you. 

You rolled your eyes, plugging your phone into the aux. “You should have asked Jihoon. Between his gym obsession and unbridled rage, the nonexistent potential kidnappers-murderers would never stand a chance.” 

“And he has good taste in music. Bump,” he says, bracing his arm in front of you as he hit a particularly large pothole. He drops his arm as soon as the car stops shaking and you ignore the urge to catch his hand in yours. 

“He does not, and you better not be implying I have bad taste!” You dig through your playlists, trying to find the Vernon-approved one. 

“I was implying but now I’ll outright say it.” 

“His playlist is just Bruno Mars and Harry Styles and one random Ariana Grande song.” You hold up the shared playlist for good measure. Vernon ignores you, refusing to take his eyes off the road. 

“Okay, not good taste, but better than yours.” 

“What is wrong with my taste in music?” 

“No comment.” 

“How have we been friends this long?” You ask. You can’t quite say it with a straight face; the idea of not having Vernon in your life is an absurdity you can’t imagine. 

“By the way, you need to give directions,” Vernon says. “I sent you the address last week.” 

You shake your head but dig through the messages to find the address, putting Jihoon’s playlist on to prove your point. Vernon pretends not to care, singing along to “Leave the Door Open,” as if he didn’t make fun of Jihoon a week ago because he played the song on repeat during his four hour shift at the cafe. 

When you’re being honest with yourself, you know you want more than riding in Vernon’s front seat and making pointless jokes. More than once, you’ve imagined what it’s like to go home with him and stay there, to wake up in his bed because you share it with him, instead of the times you drank too much and he slept on the couch (because of course Vernon is the type of person to give up his bed for his friend). Moments like that make it harder to remember that he doesn’t feel the same way. 

You were doing a great job of paying attention until the second half hour, when you got stuck in standstill traffic. In your mind, only a few minutes pass, but suddenly Vernon shakes your shoulder and your heart shoots bolts of adrenaline into your veins to wake you up. 

“We’re here,” he says softly. He holds your phone with the directions still open. The engine shakes the car; he must have literally just stopped. It takes a couple moments to remember that he drove you into the middle of nowhere to pick up some kittens to foster them (another bullet point in the ever growing list of why you love Vernon: he does absolutely insane things for what he loves. What would it be like to be the person he loves?). He stares at you for a moment and for some godforsaken reason, you think he’s going to kiss you. 

He points to the corner of your lips. “You drooled.” He laughs at your groan, turning in his seat and cutting the engine, tossing your phone into your lap. 

The door creaks when you pull on the handle but it swings open. You are extra careful when you swing it shut, being as gentle as possible. Vernon raises his eyebrows but doesn’t comment on it. You stretch until your back finally pops, jogging to catch up with Vernon who didn’t wait for you, striding up the smooth driveway. 

Warm pastel yellow greets you, a cute door that matches the array of flowers on the front porch perfectly. Vernon sneezes and presses the doorbell, stepping back to wait, shoulder pressing against yours. Even though his jean jacket and your cotton t-shirt separate you from really touching him, you feel a different sort of warm, a tingly feeling that spreads from your insides and makes you feel giddy. 

After a couple minutes, the door opens, revealing a smiling woman and a child that can’t be more than five clinging to her leg. “You must be the fosters! Sorry, it’s a little hectic today, but come on in!” She ushers you in, picking up the child. 

Some psychopath. You glance at Vernon but he turns his back on you, following the woman down the hall to a closed door. Whatever, it’s not like he needs to see you to know the jokes you make. 

“We’ve been keeping them away from the rest of the house since it gets so chaotic,” she says. “I’d love to keep them but we’ve got two toddlers and a hyperactive dog.” She sounds genuinely regretful, which you understand as soon as you step over the baby gate and into the room. It looks like it was a spare bedroom (you can’t help but think it’s for the children when they get too big to share a room), but the bed has been stripped and there isn’t any other furniture. In the middle of the room, in a nest of blankets, a grown cat sits and licks tiny balls of fur that mewl softly in protest. The black cat pauses in her grooming, studying you and Vernon while the woman and her child watch from the door. 

“Do you want to tell the lovely couple what we named them?” She asks the child. 

You freeze. Did she just call you a couple? “We’re not–” Vernon stops you with a hand on your arm, sitting cross legged on the ground and facing the woman and her child. 

“The momma is Pinky,” the child mumbles, barely audible. “‘Cause she has really pink feet.” 

You smile at her, though you’re still reeling from Vernon’s hand, which slips from your arm to interlace his fingers with yours. “Did you name her?” 

The child grins. “Yeah! But my brother named the babies.” She pouts. 

“I think Pinky is a great name,” you say. Vernon grunts in agreement. Pinky stands and wanders slowly toward Vernon’s hand (the one not holding yours), which he holds outstretched while looking away. Looking at you. You get to see the exact moment Pinky brushes her head against his fingers, watch the corners of his mouth creep up in satisfaction, watch his eyes slip away from yours as he strokes her head. She lets off a low rumble as she purrs, brushing her whole body against his foot before leaving him to study you. 

You’ve never thought of yourself as a cat-person or a dog-person (you love them all the same), but a life-time as Vernon’s best friend (and an abundance of cat cafes) have trained you in how to get cat’s to befriend you. You let Pinky move however she wants, hyper aware of Vernon’s hand squeezing yours once before letting go. 

He shifts to look at the kittens, earning a wary glance from Pinky. She watches him for a moment before turning back to you, brushing against your hand and eventually turning her back on you, purring like the engine of Vernon’s car the entire time. 

“What’s this one called?” Vernon asks, pointing to the orange colored kitten. 

“That’s Muffin, Momma named her,” the child explains. She stands at the baby gate alone, her mother off somewhere getting all of their supplies so that you and Vernon can leave with them. Her little fingers curl around the metal. “The black one is Fried and the white one is Egg. That’s what my brother named them.” 

Vernon nods, smiling over the tiny kittens. Pinky finally decides she doesn’t want him quite so close, leaving your side to place herself between him and the kittens. He laughs, sliding back to sit next to you. 

“There’s no way you don’t end up adopting at least one of them,” you whisper. 

“I have self-control.” 

“Wanna bet?” 

Vernon turns to look at you except he’s much too close, nose just barely brushing against yours. It takes all of your willpower not to glance at his lips, infinitely harder when you realize you can feel his breath on your lips. Would he kiss you back? You push that fantasy away immediately: it’s Vernon. He’d push you away and call you weird, or do that judgy-eyebrow-wiggle-thing that he reserves only for special occasions (most recently used when Soonyoung was talking about a hookup gone wrong). You’ve always been the one he looks at when someone does something weird; what would he do if it was you being weird? Your stomach turns, the butterflies eating each other alive. You can’t do that to him, no matter how perfect his lips are. 

You jump at the sound of someone clearing their throat. You turn back to the door to see the woman holding a cat carrier doing her best not to smile. 

“Not trying to rush you two, but the sooner they settle into a nice loving home, the better,” she says, winking at ‘loving.’ You really should correct her. Actually, Vernon should correct her. He always does, the very few times that you have been mistaken as a couple. He never hesitates, so why isn’t he doing it now? Does he really not realize what she’s implying? 

He stands up, turning to face you and extending his hands to pull you up. You roll your eyes but take them anyway, ignoring the way your heart sinks when he lets go this time. He takes the carrier and gently picks up the kittens, blankets and all, and tucks them inside. Pinky follows immediately after, as if she couldn’t bear to be away from her children for more than a second. 

“I have a box ready by the door with their food, and toys, and other supplies, and I know you said you have a litter box and you’re ready, but I just wanted to make sure that they settle in nice, and I added a blanket in case they’re homesick, and–” She pauses, peering at the dark holes of the carrier as if she can see the little kittens inside. She takes a deep breath, picking up her child again, stepping to the side so that you and Vernon can leave the room. “I know you two will take good care of them, I do, I just– I’m going to miss them.” 

“Me too,” her child says, clinging to her mother’s neck. 

The woman smiles. “But we said our goodbyes already, and they’re going to be so happy with these two, right?” 

“Of course,” you say when Vernon doesn’t answer. “He’s been obsessed with cats since he was smaller than you!” You wink at the child, who giggles. 

You pick up the box at the door, grunting at the heaviness. 

“We can switch,” Vernon says softly but you shake your head. 

“It’s just to the car, it’s fine.” Vernon looks like he’s going to argue more, but finally he steps onto the front porch, moving as gently as possible, trying to disturb the precious cargo as little as possible. 

“Thank you so much again,” the woman says, setting her child down. “We really do wish we could keep them, but it makes me happy knowing that someone capable will be taking care of them, especially an adorable couple like the two of you. Do keep me updated on their adoptions.” 

You force a smile and choke out a “thank you,” following Vernon mindlessly down the driveway after she closes the door.

Adorable couple, were her exact words and Vernon said nothing. Why? The word hangs on your tongue, threatening to spill out if you so much as open your mouth. You watch as Vernon sets the carrier in the backseat, then takes the box out of your arms and places it on the floor. You force yourself to move to the passenger side when he raises his eyebrows at you, but once you’re sitting down and the seatbelt is across your chest, you’re frozen again. 

Vernon takes your phone when you don’t move, putting in your passcode (the sum of his birthday and yours). He pulls up his own playlist, a collection of hyperpop and indie artists that you normally enjoy listening to. Today it takes all your concentration not to burst. 

You almost make it the whole drive, all the way to his block, the apartment building he’s spent the last year and a half in that’s become far too familiar to you. How much time have you wasted away on the floor of his living room, drinking, doing classwork, listening to him talk about the future, rambling to him about the midnight thoughts that threaten your heart? He knows everything about you, except what you need him to know the most. 

When the question begins to burn in your heart, you can’t hold it anymore. Vernon pulls into his parking spot and it falls from your lips before you realize it. “Why?” 

He has the audacity to feign ignorance, blinking at you before finally asking, “Why what?” 

“Why did you let her think we are a couple?” 

One of the kittens mewls in the silence, a soft cry for help, sounding pitifully like your own heart. 

Vernon stares ahead of him at the concrete wall, the fading red number 19 that designates this spot as his. Just say something, your heart begs him. Stop giving me hope where there is none. His shoulders rise in the tiniest shrug. “I guess I was just curious.” 

“Of what?” 

He swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. He glances at you, just once. “What it would be like.” He sighs. “This really isn’t the time for this conversation.” 

Your grip on the door handle is so tight your knuckles are white. So desperately, you want to believe he’s trying to say what you think he’s saying but you refuse to give yourself hope unless it’s real. “What conversation?” 

“Okay, for the record, I did think this through,” he says, “a lot. Like, for months. This isn’t coming out of nowhere, I really did try to figure out if it’s just a passing thing because the last thing I want is for things between us to be weird because you’re my best friend and I tried to imagine my life without you and that was worse than anything, so I decided I wouldn’t ruin anything except I can’t stop thinking about–”

“Vernon.” 

He pauses, turning to face you again and this time he doesn’t look away. You’ve never felt self-conscious under his gaze, not when he’s seen every awkward stage of your life and stuck with you anyways. His eyes have always been familiar to you, an oasis of comfort that you always find yourself drifting toward. But the longer he stares at you, the more you want to run away, hide from the heartbreak you see in his eyes. 

“I think I like you,” he says. “No. I do. Like, as in more than a friend. God, none of these words are working.” 

You stare at him. He’s saying everything you want him to say. He’s saying he likes you. Why can’t you move? 

Vernon runs a hand through his hair, and sighs. “Like I said, I don’t want to ruin things between us, you're still my best friend first. But I’m also sure about how I feel and I don’t want to keep it from you any longer. I can’t stay in this limbo of holding onto something that doesn’t exist, so, I’m really sorry.” 

“Sorry?” You repeat, frowning. “Why are you sorry?” 

“Because… I like you. And that ruins… this.” He gestures between you and him and that’s when you finally realize that he doesn’t know. 

“You dumbass,” you say, “I like you, too.” 

Vernon frowns, mouth hanging open a little, and you have to wonder if you looked this goofy when he was talking. Your heart swells when you realize you’re the reason for it. “You do?” 

“Yes,” you say, grabbing his hand. Your cheeks ache a little, and you realize that you’re smiling wider than you ever have before. You’ve never been this happy, not when you graduated high school, not when you and Vernon found out you got into the same college, not when you got a perfect score on that notoriously impossible chemistry final. “Vernon, I am an idiot that always thought you didn’t feel the way I did so I did everything I could to hide it. But I like you, I really, really do, and I’m sorry I never let it show.” There’s another word for how you feel, but you aren’t quite brave enough to use it yet, even if it’s what you really mean to say. 

Vernon leans closer, pressing his forehead against yours. “We really are dumb, huh?” 

“I can already hear Jihoon’s gloating.”

“He’s been nagging you too?” Vernon groans softly but the smile never leaves his lips. “He’s going to be insufferable.” 

You’ve grown used to silences with Vernon. Sometimes they are painful, like when he tells a joke and only you laugh. Usually they’re peaceful, comfortable silences that can only exist between two people that have nothing left to say but stay together anyways. But this silence is heavy, a weight on your shoulders pushing you to do something, move closer. You’ve known him your whole life but this is foreign territory. 

His breath kisses your lips again and this time you have the bravery to lean forward, just a little. His lips are soft, bottom lip chapped a little more than the top but it is warm and it feels like a first and thousandth at the same time, like unlocking the door to a house you know you’ll spend the rest of your life in. Your mind floats farther and farther away, in some place of impossible happiness that can’t quite believe that this is real. 

A soft cry from somewhere to your left brings you back to earth. You pull away at the same time he does, glancing at the backseat. Right. The kittens. You glance at Vernon, whose mouth is still a little open, eyes wide and flustered. It makes you want to kiss him all over again but you settle for laughing. 

“I guess we should go inside,” he says, leaning away from you though he doesn’t turn his back yet. 

“We should get them settled,” you say, glancing at the carrier again. 

Vernon nods, opening his door and grabbing the heavy box, pausing by the entrance to the building to wait for you to grab the carrier. Silence falls again as you ride the elevator up but you’re more than familiar with it. 

It doesn’t take long to settle Pinky and the kittens, not when Vernon already had a room set up for them. He figures there’s been enough stress for the day and they should get some peace and space to relax, so you stretch out on the couch, taking your usual corner. Vernon sits next to you, the inch of space separating you feeling like a mile. 

Vernon glances at you, chewing on his lip before asking, “You’ll stay?” 

“Always.” 

The grin that splits his face has you swooning all over again, so when he throws an arm over your shoulder, leaning into your side, your brain fully stops functioning. You have to will thoughts into existence, which is silly because it’s Vernon and he’s done this a million times. But when you tuck your head onto his shoulder and he kisses the top of this head, you know everything is different. And exactly how you want it. 

“You’re definitely going to adopt Fried,” you say. 

His laughter bounces you. “No way.” 

“It’s Fried or Muffin. You can’t handle their cuteness, I saw you baby talking at them.” 

“I'll stay strong.” 

“What if I want a kitten?” 

Vernon doesn’t hesitate. “Egg is pretty cute.” 

“Sucker.” 

“Only for you.” 

thank you for reading <3

[beskarandblasters]

Tolerate It

Ex!Din Djarin x F!Reader

Main Masterlist | Din Djarin Masterlist

Author's note: The title and story are loosely based on the Taylor Swift song. As always let me know your thoughts and requests are currently open.

Summary: You and Din used to be in a relationship but split before Grogu left to train with Luke. You find Din on Nevarro on your way to talk to Greef Karga, asking him why he doesn’t have Grogu anymore. Which leads to talks about your past together.

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: post season Book of Boba Fett/beginning of season 3, angst, reader is able-bodied, Din can lift reader, fingering, semi public sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, sex on the starfighter... 👀, no use of y/n

To say that Nevarro has changed for the better would be an underestimate. It’s practically a brand new place now, thanks to Greef Karga. But thinking of Nevarro and Greef leads you to thinking of the bounty hunter’s guild which leads you to thinking of Din… It’s still a tough subject for you. It’s been over a year since you’ve last seen him; over a year since you last told him that it was the end for you two. Something that makes you think;

How could I be so stupid?

But you had your reasons. Being with a stoic bounty hunter who keeps his heart heavily guarded is no easy relationship to be in. He let Grogu into his heart and maybe you thought he could do the same for you. But it was all too much for him. After being alone for so long in his life, making room for two just wasn’t something he could do. And of course the kid needed him more than you did and you completely understood that. But there was nothing left for you. You tolerated it for as long as you could, because that’s all your relationship was towards the end, tolerance. You left before he could. 

Might as well do this on my own terms, you thought at the time. 

He’ll be so much better off without me. I bet he won’t even miss me. 

You think about him often even though it’s painful. You think about nights on the Razor Crest together, feeling like a small family together, admiring how focused he gets when he’s on the look out for a bounty. You really did miss him, even though sometimes it felt like you weren’t even visible to him. It all hurts so much even after all this time. 

Enough of that. It’s in the past. Over and done with.

You’re back on Nevarro after being off planet for a while. With Greek Karga being High Magistrate now, you’ve come back here looking for a job, something more permanent than being Din’s mechanic. And now that Nevarro has reinvented itself it’s not a bad place to live either. 

You’re walking down the streets of Nevarro, heading to Greef’s building and that's when you see him walking in your direction. You could spot him from a mile away. That tall, looming figure, covered in beskar. You get butterflies in your stomach. Panicking, you turn and start walking the other direction, hoping that he won’t notice you.

And then you feel a gloved hand, grabbing you by the arm. 

“Were you trying to avoid me?”

You panic even more, not knowing what to say. I mean, he’s right. You were trying to avoid him. You turn to face him and say,

“Yeah. I was.”

“Why? You’re the one that left me,” he says, getting right to the point. 

“Can-can we not do this here?” you say, looking around the busy street. There were some people staring because of course they were. You and Din had become a recognizable pair for the people of Nevarro. And now that you two haven’t been seen together for a while, heads were turning at the sight of you.

“Follow me,” he says, grabbing your hand and leading you to wherever he wants to go. 

You don’t say anything and neither does he. You’re so incredibly nervous about this.

What is going to say to me? He sounded kind of mad. But he is right though, I was the one to break up with him… But then again how could anyone blame me after how he treated me? And where is he taking me, anyway?

He leads you into the lava flats towards a ship you don’t recognize. What happened after you left him?

“What’s this?”

“My new ship,” he answers. “Got it from Peli.”

He lets go of your hand and faces you. 

“It seems like a lot has happened since I last saw you. Where’s the kid?”

“With his own kind,” he says, offering nothing more. 

“Well aren’t you going to give me more details?” you ask, putting your hand on your hip. 

He sighs and then tells you everything. He tells you about the Crest being destroyed and Grogu being captured by Moff Gideon. He tells you about a Jedi coming to the rescue and taking Grogu with him. He tells you about the Darksaber and how he won it from Moff. He tells you about the ship he got from Peli; an N1 Naboo Starfighter. It was a lot. The whole time he’s telling you this your eyes are wide open and your jaw practically on the ground. And now you feel bad for him… He’s alone again. 

“I’m sorry, Din… I’m sorry I wasn’t there for all of that.”

“It’s alright. I think if you had been with me through all of that, it would’ve made it harder. I would’ve had to worry about your safety, too.”

And that’s why I left you. You didn’t have the capacity to worry about me; to care about me. 

“Yeah and that’s just it, Din. There wasn’t any room for me in your life. Don’t you understand how hard that was for me? I felt like a burden to you,” you retort, your voice raising slightly. 

He doesn’t say anything for a moment. The helmet just tilted down at you, reading the expression on your face. You’re sure your face is red with anger. Your hands were trembling. 

And then he speaks with that raspy, modulated tone of his,

“That doesn't mean I didn’t miss you…” 

You sigh because you feel the same way. You missed everything about him. You missed his scent, the feeling of the beskar on you when he held you, his voice, his protective nature, his interactions with the kid. Maker, you missed it all so much. 

You take a step forward, closing the gap between you two. He follows your lead and wraps his arms around you. You rest your head against his chest and you two just stay there awhile, holding each other. 

It isn’t until he snakes a hand down to your pants and cups your sex that you realize where this is going. 

This is such a bad idea. 

But it is what’s familiar. It’s not like you haven’t had sex since you left him. You’ve had your share of one night stands after a random guy at a cantina talks you up. But they don’t know you like Din does. They don’t know the way you like to be touched and pleasured. 

“Right here?” you ask, pulling away and looking up at him.

“Why not? There’s no one around…”

You sigh and lean into him again, letting him continue. Your mind is telling you no; that you shouldn’t be doing this; that you’re just going to reopen old wounds. But your body is telling you yes; that you need this; that you missed him so much. 

I’m not the first person to go back to their ex, you thought to yourself as he touched you. 

He slips his gloved hands down your pants and begins rubbing small circles around your clit. Maker, was he good at that. It was rare that you ever got to experience his tongue so to say that he was talented with his hands would be an understatement. 

You lean back on to the ship near the cockpit and spread your legs more, giving him access to slip a finger inside. And he does. 

This is exhilarating for you. The sun is going down on Nevarro and you’re about to have sex with your ex against his new ship out in the open. 

“You have no idea how much I needed this cyar’ika,” he moans into your ear, slipping another finger inside. 

“Oh yeah? How much?”

“I thought about you all the time. I thought about your body and how much I missed it; how much I missed you.”

Hearing him say all of this tugs at your heart. You thought after you had left, he would’ve been perfectly fine, continuing his life as normal. 

“Show me, then,” you say against his helmet. 

He slides down your pants and grabs you by the thighs, lifting you on the ship a little more. He takes his cock out of his suit and slicks it with your juices from his hand. 

He aligns himself with your entrance and starts thrusting in and out, his hands still holding your thighs up. He’s taking his time with you, his thrusts are methodically slow until you beg him, “Din, faster please.”

“Anything for you, cyar’ika,” he says, picking up the pace. 

The angle of your body on the ship and Din holding your thighs in places is driving you nuts. The sensation of the cool metal ship on your back and the cool beskar between your thighs unlocks something within you, sending you closer to the edge. Din leans down so his torso is flush against yours, the T shaped visor practically burning a hole into you. It’s a mixture of intense pleasure but also nostalgia. He feels familiar to you but also so new too. So much has changed since you saw him last it’s almost like you’re fucking someone new. But you’re not. You’re fucking your ex on the planet where it all started. 

He pulls back ever so slightly, just to slip his hand between you two and start rubbing your clit again. It sends you to the edge.

“Maker, I’m gonna cum,” you moan.

“Please baby. Please cum for me.”

And then you do. And it’s pure bliss. Your pussy is fluttering and pulsing around Din’s cock, sending shockwaves all throughout your body.  

The sensation of you cumming must’ve been too much for Din because suddenly he pulls out of you and cums on your thigh. 

He looks back at you and says, “I, uh, would’ve came inside but I wasn’t sure if you still had the implant…” 

“I do, but that’s alright.”

He leans over you and reaches for the cockpit, grabbing a rag. He hands it to you and you tell him thanks, saying nothing more because… the feeling of regret is starting to sink in…

You just had sex with your ex. The one you left over a year ago because he wasn’t letting you in emotionally. 

This is too much. This is all too much. 

You slip down off the ship and quickly pull up your pants. 

“Hey, are you okay?” he asks, grabbing your arm. 

“This was a mistake.”

“Hey, look at me. What’s wrong?”

“We shouldn’t have done this, okay?”

“Did you not enjoy yourself?” he presses further.

You bring your palm up to your face, “Ugh. Well yes but that’s not what I’m getting at right now, Din. We’re exes. And we’re exes for a good reason.”

“I don’t understand. You don’t want to get back together?”

And he does?

You’re getting irritated now. “You can’t just come here with a new ship, tell me all about what happened since I left, fuck me and then expect me to come crawling back to you. I had my reasons for leaving and when I did leave you didn’t even put up a fight,” you snap at him.

“Cyar’ika… I’m sorry. I know, you deserved better.”

“Yeah, I did. And instead of realizing it sooner I stayed with you until I had finally had enough.”

He’s silent, helmet facing towards the ground. 

“And all you did was tolerate me when we were together. You never appreciated my love. It felt pointless to put all of my time and energy into loving you and caring for you all for it to go to waste,” you say, your voice raising now. 

He’s silent still. Just like the day you left him. 

Of course he is. He didn’t fight for me then and he sure isn’t going to now.

“I just can’t do this anymore,” you say, feeling defeated. 

You turn on your heel and start walking away, half hoping he’ll tell you to stop and come back. But he doesn’t. It feels exactly like the day you left him. Tears sting your eyes all the way back to the inn you’re staying at. You came to Nevarro to talk to Greef Karga about getting a job here but it’s certainly not the time for that now. The sun has set and you’re fully crying at this point. You just wanted to get back to where you were staying and take a shower, to wash him off of you. 

You reach the inn and go inside the lobby, looking at the ground the whole time so no one can see your tear stained face. You power walk down the hallway until you get to your room, scan the key card and just collapse on the bed. The tears were flowing harder now. It’s hard to pinpoint what emotion you were feeling. It was a mixture of anger, sadness, longing, and almost a sense of betrayal. Betrayal in the sense that he can find you here, tell you what you want to hear so you’ll fuck him and then when the time comes for him to fight for you, he doesn’t.

You hop in the refresher and shower like you could wash away what happened. But you know you can’t. You step out, dry off and pull on your pajamas. You get in bed and try to forget about what happened today. But as you drift off to sleep you find yourself dreaming about what could’ve been… 

End note: I was really close to giving them a happy ending but I didn't!🤭 Perhaps I'll do a part two where Din wins the reader over? Let me know your thoughts and send me any requests you have! Also, if you'd like to be part of my tag list, send me an ask or reply to this post!

[ohisms]

↪     𝑬𝑵𝑫𝑳𝑬𝑺𝑺 𝑾𝑶𝑵𝑫𝑬𝑹 .    (  a  series  of  sentence  starters  from  season  5  of  syfy’s  “ warehouse 13 ” .  adjust  phrasing  as  necessary . )

nothing to worry about on this end .

keep me posted .

i’ve got another idea .

wait ,  wait ,  wait . . .

i’m not a total idiot .

look ,  [ name ] ,  that’s not what matters right now .

drive .  okay ?  just . . . drive fast .

of all the illegal things i’ve done ,  this is probably the least illegal .

we are not talking about that !

are you kidding me ?!

i’m gonna need another pair of hands .

i’ve got a plan i’m absolutely certain will work .

not cool !  not cool !

oh my god ,  what a great idea ,  [ name ] !  wish i’d thought of that !

i’ll explain later .

[ name ] , what just happened ?

i want him dead .

i just think we should make an informed decision .

heartbreaking ,  isn’t it ?  when someone you loved and thought you knew turns out to be someone else ?

the question is ;  are you with me ,  or are you against me ?

hey !  what’d you do that for ?

there goes our element of surprise .

you have no idea what you’re giving up .

so ,  sue me .  i didn’t want you to die .

stop staring at me !

this way i can keep an eye on you .

patience ,  and all will be revealed .

follow my instructions for a change .

are you busy tonight ?

i will cut you .

now if you’ll excuse me , i have to get ready .

do you want to tell me the truth , this time ?

i don’t need you to protect me .

should i ignore the fact that that sounds insane ?

you’re lying , it makes no sense .

i haven’t hurt anyone .

there’s no way i’m leaving you like this .

you have been lying to me .

i haven’t forgotten about  [ name ] .

a little bit dramatic ,  don’t you think ?

okay ,  your life is worse .  congrats .

there’s no need to close that door forever .

can we stop talking about this and just get back to work ?

how about we just start with this ?

hopefully you’ll understand why i did what i did .

i told you i’d be back .

despite everything [ name ] told you ,  you’re here anyways .

life is shorter than you ever think .

i think a little danger is worth it ,  don’t you ?

please note that i didn’t say anything about how dangerous that would be .

you take one hand ,  i’ll take the other ?

what’s so important ?

i’m not blaming you ,  i just wanna know what happened .

i don’t understand .  where am i ?

listen ,  there was -   there was a car accident .

no way ,  come on .  i don’t believe you .

we’re gonna talk everything through from the very beginning .

i have the feeling this is gonna take awhile .

don’t worry about it .  i’ll take care of  [ name ] .

i didn’t have very much when i came here ,  so i guess i’m kind of trying to make up for that .

the internet’s still around ?

i gotta say ,  i’m really hating this .  i just ,  nothing feels real .

i’m just gonna wake up and be me again .

this cannot be my life !

please stop saying it’s gonna be alright because it’s not !

i was in a mental institution .

not to outdo you ,  but crazy girl carries a lot more stigma .

my strongest memories of you have to do with that guitar .

oh ,  boo - hoo ,  what .  is .  the .  plan ?

did you not hear me say very ,  very carefully ?!

this place is about as secure as a kiosk at the mall .

do not snap at me ,  okay ?

do you have any enemies ?  anyone who might want to hurt you ?

am i doing all these things with my mind ?!

i haven’t cursed anyone in years .

weren’t you nervous to play in front of people ?

let’s just say i’m addicted to more than just coffee .

would you play for me ?

since you missed the concert ,  i thought we could have one of our own .

my keen sense of perception is giving me the impression that you are upset .

don’t partonize me ,  [ name ] .

look ,  why don’t we just quietly work together ?

it was an accident ,  i didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt .

i didn’t know it was gonna be dangerous .

no one’s gonna die !  okay ?  we’re gonna fix this .

have you seen him ?  i mean ,  really looked at him ?

when you really love someone ,  you want them to be happy .  even if it isn’t with you .

talking down to me does not help !

i’m not talking down to you ,  i’m just talking you DOWN  ...  there’s a difference .

it’s this place ,  it’s a thousand things !

you SHOT me ?!

with clear eyes  ...  and a full heart ,  you can’t lose .

will you tell me everything that happened while i was sleeping ?

i’m so sorry ,  i know i should’ve told you sooner .

i remember ,  now .  i remember everything .

i’m not gonna let you go back to that .

you’ve tried everything ,  haven’t you ?

if i only get one day ,  i am so ,  so glad i got this one .

i’m counting on you to fix all of this .

i’ll find a way .  i promise .

what answer will make you stop asking ?

relax ,  i’m not here for you .

that’s why you’re yelling like your hair’s on fire ?

i hate being friends with you .

i want to punch things .

i’m on the verge of a major breakthrough !

fine ,  i’ll go .  this better be snappy .

i called the police ,  they said i had to wait 24 hours .

[marzipanandminutiae]

i think it’s less that ppl are legit expecting a white christmas in boston every year and more that the probability for one used to be 20 to 30% and it’s now been almost 15 years without one and probability has dropped to 10% and will continue to drop. for someplace like worcester in massachusetts it’s even worse — probability was 67% ish for the boomers and now it’s a little over 30%. only 27 white christmases in boston since 1892 sounds small but when u consider most bostonians had 3 white christmases by their mid-teens on top of all the christmases where there was snow even if it wasn’t one inch and now there are teenagers who haven’t seen even one white christmas… it makes sense why ppl freak out every year it still hasn’t happened.

And that absolutely makes sense, yeah! I have immense climate anxiety too, like I said!

What I was responding to was more the people saying "it's 60 and raining in Boston and it feels like the apocalypse" or "this isn't how it's supposed to be ever; this never used to happen."

I don't know if you saw my longer post, but I went and looked at Boston weather records going back to 1893. Most Decembers from 1893-1903 had multiple days in the upper 50s, with many years getting into the 60s at least once. I didn't track every single year from 1893 to the present, but it seems reasonable to assume that that 10-year period wasn't just a weird fluke. December 1895 actually had more days in the 60s (5) than December 2022 (1).

That's not the full story, of course- December 1895 also had a couple of days in the 20s before that upswing, some with small amounts of snow. You also have things like overnight lows going haywire, and other reminders that climate change is real and it is happening now. I would never, ever attempt to deny that. It's the single biggest problem facing humanity at the moment.

However. There are multiple things to hold in our minds at the same time when thinking about its day-to-day effect on our lives, and one of them is "the effects are seldom as simple as It's Warmer Every Day Now Than It Ever Has Been, And That Will Continue Unilaterally For The Rest Of Our Lives." I'm not trying to deny or negate anything. I'm just trying to make people feel a little less despondent.

(I also just discovered that the metric for a white Christmas here in Boson states that it has to fall before 7 AM, which seems arbitrary and weird. We actually had a white Christmas here in 2017- we got 2.9" of snow -it just fell later in the day. So...it doesn't count for some reason? That's really strange to me. Anyway, the article where I learned this estimates our average yearly "one inch of snow on the ground at 7 AM on Christmas morning" chances nowadays at 19% as of three days ago.)

(I also think this demonstrates what I'm calling Reverse Environmental Amnesia- where, rather than thinking that the effects of climate change have always been normal, you tend to remember past weather in a way that fits the absolute direst interpretation of circumstances. Anyone who was in Boston on Christmas 2017 SHOULD remember the snowstorm...but I've seen multiple locals who don't travel for the holidays agreeing that we've had no Christmas snow at all since 2009.)

[m0r1bund]

"Lore, where have you been?"

In hell, probably. I remade M0R1BUND.com.

“For the love of god, why?”

Short answer: to save time and money.

Long answer: Sharing art was getting burdensome. Neocities hosts static websites built with html, css, and javascript—which is awesome for its mission, to encourage people to create future-proof websites. But this also means that every page is created and maintained by hand. I handle every little link and file and bit of code, and if I want to do site-wide changes, I have to push those by hand, too. This takes time, and so does writing image descriptions and cross-posting art to other websites. It became normal for sharing art to eat up an entire day.

I later created Basedt.net in WordPress, so that I didn’t have to worry about managing link hierarchies, which was a big timewaster on my old webcomic. I liked working in WordPress well enough, and I knew I would benefit from being able to use PHP to manage the sheer amount of stuff that’s on M0R1BUND.com. I was also paying double for webhosting through two different services, when I really didn’t need to…. So… I knew it was inevitable that I would consolidate the two at some point. It was time.

I do really love Neocities and I’m sorry to let it go. I encourage anyone who wants to learn web design and create their own website to start there.

Anyway, that’s how I ended up in hell for 6 months.

“What’s changed?”

Most things. I’m most excited about the quality-of-life stuff, like being able to sort art by character/location/world, or being able to move between individual pieces instead of having to return to the gallery landing page. There are lots of things I want to add, but my soft deadline for this was the new year, so I focused on recreating M0R1BUND.com as it existed before… well… this.

I’ve also edited most of my writing. This site is old, and the art is even older, it felt good to give it some TLC.

There are still a few things missing from the new site:

The Woods and RANSOM. They aren’t really representative of Basedt or Mercasor anymore, and I was not a competent writer in 2018. If I re-share them, it will be in the distant future.  

Some of my Those Who Went Missing stuff. I haven’t been playing TWWM publicly, so this is lower priority right now. It will happen when it happens.  

Some twines. They haven’t adjusted to the new filepath format yet. Killswitch is here, though :)

If you need them urgently for some reason, I can share them with you? but that seems doubtful haha.

Links to pages on the old M0R1BUND.com are broken and will remain broken until I set up redirections to the new M0R1BUND.com. I have no idea how long that will take! … Hopefully not long, given the new semester is here.

And of course... If you see anything weird, tell me! I test as much as I can, but I only have access to so many devices. Break this website within an inch of its miserable life so that I can fix it.

“How’s Basedt going?”

It’s going. Recreating my website took precedence for the above reasons, but I’ve been working concurrently on it in my spare time. We move like a glacier into the new year. ETA: ???

[personasintro]

Hi Mimi. Can I ask you for advice.

I have a friend who is mad at me because I’m not calling her back 24/7, and because I can’t hang out all the time and have to cancel due to the fact that I work and they sometimes, even if I have plans, call me in.

I couldn’t attend her boyfriend’s surprise birthday dinner, who she’ve only been dating for like 4 months and I’ve only met twice, because they wanted to go out late at night and I was working the day before, during, and the day after. However that particular day I got to finish my shift early because it was raining so my boss told me to just go home. On my way home another friend called me, who I haven’t seen in four month because we live 1h and 45min away from each other. My birthday is in two weeks but she’s going on vacation soon, she asked if we could meet up in the city and have dinner, this is like 4-5pm, because she wanted to celebrate me by buying me dinner. I said okey. I didn’t think I was doing anything wrong. We meet up, have dinner, order some drinks, and I post a video of us. The other friend, not even 5 minutes later, sends me a loooong message about what a bad friend I am without even knowing anything. I didn’t answer her right away and decided to wait until I was home. I got home at like 8:30, and the dinner was around 9-10isch so even if I didn’t go out with my friend I couldn’t go and celebrate her boyfriend because I needed to sleep.

She really went off on me, said a lot of things, and made me feel so shitty for nothing. So I wrote back and told her, we’re not kids, I didn’t do anything wrong, I explained briefly why I went out with my friend, and I also told her it’s my life and nobody can get mad at me for my choices, even if I was free that day it still shouldn’t be a problem because I don’t have an obligation to anybody. I also told her that I think it’s wrong that she decided to message me when she saw I was out, she could have waited and brought it up the next day instead of basically trying to ruin my night. I also texted her “don’t worry about this now, go and have fun, enjoy, let’s talk face 2 face when we get the chance” She then texted me back saying “I am celebrating his birthday all weekend, we can talk another day, I don’t have time to deal with this now”. I wrote back “sure”. My first thought, before I calmed myself down, was “so you have time to ruin my night, and start this whole thing, but you don’t have time to finish it?”.

Am I the asshole? Hahaha this sounds like a reddit post, I wanted to write it there but I don’t want to take a risk of her seeing it. Your account, your stories and you are also my comfort zone. I just feel safe here, which is why I am sorry for the rant and headache you have now. I just don’t like to talk about other people with other people, which is why I’m not asking for advice from my friends. But at the same time I’m desperate because I feel like I have done everything for her but just because I have work and have to prioritize myself I’m suddenly a bad friend for not attending her bfs dinner who I’ve only met twice. I mean it’s not like I missed her wedding day. It’s not like I was talking shit about her or told everyone her secrets for her to call me awful names and paint me as the bad guy. It’s not like the plan hanged on me, and I said no, and everybody stayed home but then I went out anyways. They still went out and had fun, so why should it be a problem if I was there or not.

I just want to add that this friendship is solely about me being there for her, I’m basically her therapist. I’ve never ever had demands on her or how she should treat me. I’m so drama free like this is my only drama in life atm in the past 6 years. I’m so easy going. You know that last year on my birthday she didn’t wish me a happy bday, and last year I asked her 6 times if she wanted to go on a vacation and she said no, but then she posts on snap that she’s going on a “random trip” with a girl she met 6 month ago at a gym who she doesn’t even talk to anymore because she feels that the girl was to clingy. I didn’t say anything because I thought it’s okey I’m not gonna ruin her day, vacation or whatever for something so silly, it’s HER life. I’m always there for her, even if I’m busy I always try to show her that she is not neglected by maybe sending her a song, or meme, or even going as far as telling her that I’m gonna be busy and that she can call me if it’s an emergency otherwise I won’t be so active. I always have her back, she calls me 4 in the morning and I pick up without blinking twice. My parents treat her as a second daughter, I’m always there for her as much as I can, and I just have to add that last month, I didn’t sleep for 36h and had a 10h shift the day after, but I still went out with her because she needed a friend due to having a bad day. I neglected my mental health for her. And our convos are 90% about her, 7% about random stuff, and 3% about me, and I STILL DONT HAVE A PROBLEM WITH IT because idgaf. Im honestly so unbothered I really don’t care, but right now I care because I feel that the text she sent me, and the way she wanted to paint me, and the words she used even though I’ve never ever had anything negative about her coming out of my mouth…I just feel like this is so unfair and I don’t know what to do. Should I end the friendship? Or maybe talk to her and try to make her understand? Im just so lost and this is honestly so sad because we’ve been friend for 12 years if not more. I don’t want it to end over something so silly…

Much love💜

Again I’m sorry for ranting, if you have advice I want to thank you for them. And I also want to thank you before hand for taking the time to read this. I admire u and ur stories!

I just have to add: she’s not a bad person, her good qualities overshadows the bad ones, which is why we’re still friends.

This message was sent a while back and I am sorry for responding only now. Maybe you were able to figure it out on your own or things happened after this. But all I can recommend for you to do is to talk to your friend, if you haven’t already. If I were you, I’d try to communicate and make her see where I am coming from as well and then… there’s nothing much you can do from there. You’ll see how she takes it and whether she’s able to see your side or not. Regardless of everything, she shouldn’t take you for granted and cut you some slack.

Like you said, you don’t want your friendship to end over something silly but maybe it’s not something silly at all. In the end, you don’t want friends who makes you feel guilty and take you for granted all the time. Just the fact your entire friendship seems to be focusing on her rather than on both of you says a lot. You shouldn’t be treated that way and you do deserve someone who equally cares about you as a person :)

[canirove]

I don’t like you, Mason Mount | Chapter 1

Summary: Have you ever heard of Mason Mount? He is a football player, and one who people (and himself) believe to be among the best out there. That, and that he is handsome, funny, charming, super nice with the fans... But he doesn't fool me. He is overrated. Very, overrated. Or that's what I thought until Christmas, when my niece Lola dragged me to an event where I got to meet him in person.  

Author’s note: This story is inspired on an imagine I posted over Christmas, so some of you may have already read this first chapter. But if you ever wondered what happened to them after meeting, here you'll have the answer! Also, thank you very much for all the love on that imagine! I was going to keep writing their story because the muse came to visit me, but seeing that so many of you liked it motivated me a lot more to keep writing 😊 Starting with this story today also is special, because last year for Valentine’s Day I posted the first chapter of my first story ever, and it also was with Mason. Anyway, hope you like it, and thank you for reading! 💜

Next chapter

Masterlist

"Thank you so much for taking Lola to this thing. You know I would do it myself if I wasn’t feeling like shit."

"It's ok, don't worry."

"I know you don't like anything that has to do with football or him."

"I'll survive."

"I promise I'll get you something good for Christmas as a thank you."

"You still haven't bought my present? Monica, Christmas is in two days!" 

"That's enough time" she shrugs.

"Auntie!" my niece Lola says, running towards me.

"Hello, gorgeous. Are you ready?" I say, hugging her.

"I am!" she replies, doing a twirl so I can see that she's wearing Chelsea from head to toe. And, of course, she's wearing her Mount shirt.

She's been in love with him since last year, when he visited her school and defended her against some kids who didn't let her play football with them because she was a girl. After that, she took football even more seriously, and now she's playing for a girls team and has made half our family Chelsea fans. 

Not me, though. I don't like football, and I can't stand Mason Mount and everything around him. He isn't that handsome, or funny, charming, such a good player... He is overrated. Very, overrated.

"Enjoy, darling" her mum says, giving her a quick hug. "And you, sis, be nice. Who knows, maybe you'll meet him in person and fall in love with him."

"Ha ha" I say, rolling my eyes.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"I'm so nervous, auntie!" Lola says. We've been waiting for an hour, Mason talking and taking photos with other kids who, like her, have been selected to meet him through their football academies. And from time to time, I catch him looking at us, always smiling at me. Keep trying, Mount. 

"Hello and Merry Christmas!" he says when it finally is our turn.

"Merry Christmas" Lola says.  

"Have we met before? That red hair of yours looks so familiar..." 

"We have! You went to my school and defended me against some boys who didn't let me play football with them."

"Oh, yes. You had a Spanish name, right?"

"Yes, Lola!" she says, a big smile on her face. I guess that if my idol remembered me, I would also smile like that. 

"And who is this?" he asks her, looking at me. 

"That's my auntie. She doesn't like you, that's why she looks angry."

"Let me guess... Arsenal fan?" 

"I'm an I don't like football fan" I say. 

"But I am going to change her mind" Lola says.

"I'll help you" Mason winks. "So, should we take some photos? Your auntie is invited."

"I think I'll pass" I say with a fake smile. 

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"And this is where we get changed" Mason says when we walk into the changing room. After the introductions and taking some photos, he's now being our Cobham's tour guide. 

"What do you guys think?" he asks Lola and I while the others take some photos.

"It's just a changing room" I shrug. "Though I was expecting to see some of your clothes, confirm if they are as ugly on person as on photos."

"Auntie!" Lola says, he eyes going wide.

"I'm sorry to disappoint, but today I came here dressed like this" he says, pointing at his Chelsea tracksuit. "You don't like it?"

"It's better than the one with sequins, so it's something."

"They weren't sequins" he says, trying to sound offended.

"If you say so... Where to next?"

"The gym" he says. "C'mon guys, time to keep moving."

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"That was a really nice shot."

"Thank you" I say, picking up at the ball and shooting again. Once at the gym and after explaining what all the machines do to a very annoying man, I decided to move to the little basketball area they have while the kids play with the machine goalkeepers have to train their reflexes.

"Is basketball your favourite sport, then?" Mason asks me.

"Nope. I played when I was in high school and I kind of enjoy it, but I don't watch it or anything."

"No football, no basketball... Tennis? Rugby? Cricket?"

"No, no and no" I say, shooting again.

"Then what sport do you like?" he asks again, picking the ball.

"Formula 1."

"Uh, fancy" he says, shooting and missing.

"That was so bad" I laugh.

"I'm good with a ball on my feet. With my hands I'm good at other things" he says with a mischievous smile.

"Of course you are" I say, rolling my eyes.

"Let me guess who is your favourite driver. Lando? I'm friends with him."

"I'm not interested on kids."

"He isn't a kid, he is my age."

"Exactly" I say with a big smile.

"Ok, so if you like them older... Hamilton?"

"Nope."

"Ummm... Vettel?"

"Not him."

"Then I give up."

"So easily, Mount?" I ask, arching an eyebrow.

"I can't think of any other drivers who are older" he shrugs.

"Ricciardo."

"He is the one you like?"

"He is."

"Interesting... You may have a type, because we have something in common, you know?"

"Yeah, sure" I snort. 

"We do" he says, touching his nose before leaving to join the others. 

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"Welcome to the cantine!" Mason says when we walk in. "We usually only have super duper healthy food, but since it's Christmas and we have guests, we've chosen a very special menu. Follow me."

Like he said, instead of fruit, pasta and all those things football players eat, they have different Christmas meals, and at the end of the buffet, there is a table full of chocolates and all kinds of sweets for the kids. And for those who aren't kids too, I hope.

"Auntie, let's seat next to the window" Lola says after we've picked our food. 

"May I join you?" Mason says behind us.

"Of course!" she replies with a big smile.

"Shouldn't you be sitting with the others? Like spending some time with each kid or something?" I ask.

"I'll do that later. Besides, there are no empty seats left."

"Don't be so rude, auntie. It's Christmas!"

"It's Christmas" he repeats with a big smile, making me roll my eyes. Again.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"Ok, everyone, listen up" Mason says once we all have finished eating. "To end the day, we are going to play Secret Santa. You'll pick a name from this bag, and then make a gift for the person you've been assigned. There are lots of Chelsea merch over there, you can pick as many things as you want. I will also be playing, which means that you'll have to get me a present, and I will get you one: the shirt I wore on my last game. It's been washed, don't worry" he says, making everyone laugh. Everyone but me. "Ok, let's start the game!"

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"I wonder who is getting his shirt" Lola says.

"I don't know. But we know that the boy over there is the one gifting him. His little scream gave it away" I chuckle.

"Who wants to start?" Mason asks.

"I will!" the boy I just mentioned says, moving to the table where all the presents are. "Oh..." he says, opening his box and finding a scarf and a teddy bear. 

"Sorry I wasn't Mason" a woman says.

"It's ok" the boy replies, looking very disappointed.

There only are two presents left when it finally is my turn, and one of them is the shirt.

"You got it, auntie. I can feel it!" Lola whispers next to me.

"I hope you're wrong" I say to myself, walking towards the table.

"Merry Christmas" Mason says, giving me the present with my name on it.

"Thank you" I reply. And when I open it... "Damn it" I say under my breath. 

"We have a lucky winner!" he grins, everyone around me cheering and clapping.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"You can wear it on Boxing Day."

"What?"

"My shirt" Mason says. 

"Why would I do that?"

"Because you are coming to my game."

"No, I am not" I chuckle.

"Yes, you are. Lola?" he calls. "Lola, why don't you tell your auntie about my secret present?"

"Oh, yes!" she says, joining us. "He has got us tickets for Chelsea's Boxing Day game! Like, for the whole family!"

"And the whole family includes you" he says with that stupid smile of his, the one that shows a dimple on his cheek. Why have I noticed something like that? 

"I don't like football."

"But it is a special day, auntie" Lola pouts.

"C'mon, don't be a Grinch" he says, also pouting.

"I hate you. Both of you" I say.

"Is that a yes?" Lola asks.

"It's a maybe."

"Great!" she says, hugging me.

"May I join you?" Mason asks.

"Yes, group hug!"

"What? No!" I say. But before I can escape, he also is hugging me, his face very close to mine.

"Merry Christmas, auntie" he says, smiling once again.

"Fuck you" I whisper, making him laugh. 

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"That wasn't that bad, was it?" my sister Monica asks after the game. 

"I loved every second of it!" Lola says. "And Mason scored! I think he dedicated it to us. Or to you, auntie."

"Mount fancies you?" my dad asks.

"No! Of course not!" I say.

"Then why are you blushing?"

"Because you all are very annoying. Him included. Can we please go home now?"

"We can't" Monica says. "We are supposed to meet him and thank him for the tickets."

"What? Since when?"

"The tickets came with a note that said that" she shrugs.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"That game was amazing, boy" my dad says, patting Mason on the back. "And the goal? Wow."

"Thank you, sir" he says with a shy smile. "What did you think?"

"I don't know, I was looking at my phone" I say.

"Of course you were."

"Lola, dad, why don't we go get ourselves a drink, uh?" my sister says.

"And leave him alone with her?" my dad says.

"She'll behave. Won't you, sis?"

"I'll try."

"They are really nice" Mason says once they have left.

"Unlike me?"

"You also are nice. On your own weird way" he chuckles. "So... I was wondering... Would you... Would you like to go grab a drink or go out for dinner one day?"

"Who? Me? With you?"

"Yes, you and I. Why so surprised?"

"I don't like you, Mason."

"Yet" he says with a smile. That smile.

"You are a stubborn one, aren't you?"

"Look who is talking" he laughs. "But yes, I am. And I won't stop until I convince you to go out on a date with me."

"Why?"

"I don't know. There is something about you that I like" he shrugs.

"Well, there is nothing about you that I like."

"You are such a bad liar..." 

"Whatever" I say, crossing my arms over my chest. Because maybe he's right. Maybe I do like something about him. Like his smile. Or how cute he was with all the kids the other day, definitely not behaving like a diva.

"This is my number" he says, giving me a card. "Text me when you are free. I'll be looking forward to it."

"It's not going to happen, you know?" I say, taking the card.

"We shall see. Merry Christmas... auntie" he says, catching me by surprise and kissing my cheek.

"Merry Christmas, Mount" I reply, surprising myself when I feel my face burning, and trying not to smile. Because maybe, huge maybe here... He isn't that bad after all. 

[buckys-little-belle]

Hey could I request a Steve Harrington x shy little reader? Like the reader doesn’t even know they are a little until Steve explains and they get even more shy but Steve explains everything and comforts them? And Steve tells Robin since she is the only other person you are comfortable with so she can be Auntie Robin!!

Family Video

Steve Harrington x Little!Reader (They/Them pronouns) (Side Aunty!Robin x Little!Reader)

Warnings: Reader has a bumped head, reader cried a bit, reader does not know they are a little

Notes: I combined these two asks just because they seemed to work together? I don’t know, I took some creative liberty but I like it, and I hope you all do too! (I do think that I have another idea for the head bump one but I thought I would add it in here incase I don’t end up using it!)

SFW : Please keep all interactions with this post and with this blog SFW

- - - - - -

“Look.” Robin said, pointing to Y/n a consistent customer of the family video. “Wonder what kids movie they’ll pick this time.” She laughed, not in a rude way, truly just confused.

“Maybe they have a younger sibling!” Steve reasoned, stacking a few movies at the counter. “Or a cousin, who knows.”

“We both know they don’t have a sibling.” Robin responded, all three of them had gone to school together, Robin and Y/n still attending a few classes together.

“Okay …” Steve said, wracking his brain for a reason. “Maybe they just like them?” Steve shrugged his shoulders, looking at Y/n as they roamed the “children and family” movie section.

“Which I get.” Robin sighed as she pulled up Y/n’s renting records. “But they only take out children’s movies, do they not get bored of the pretty shapes and colours and no plot?”

Steve sighed, he really didn’t know how to approach the situation, Y/n was extremely intellectual, knew how to have conversations, did well in school, was very interested in so many different things, and yet they never got movies that were anything like their interests, or movies that related to them in anyway. “I guess not.” He mumbled.

- - - - - -

“Robin!” Steve yelled out, entering the store 10 minutes late for his shift.

“You’re late Steve! I had to handle weird Mitch all by myself!” Robin yelled back, mad at how Steve was so obnoxiously late.

“Oh stop, he’s like 80.” Steve sighed, out of breath, placing a notebook onto the counter. Looking more like a customer than an employee.

“Old people can be creepy to Steve.” Robin reasoned.

“Okay, okay.” Steve breathed, opening the notebook to a random page, the page covered in messy and almost illegible handwriting. “I’ve figured it out.”

“Figured what out?” Robin asked. “You haven’t taken notes in years. What could you possibly be writing down.” She chucked, amused by his seemingly concentrated yet exhausted state.

“Y/n.” Steve smiled.

“Y/n?”

“Yes, you know, ‘why do they only watch kids movies’!” Robin nodded, interested in if Steve had any real information. “Well I went to see Eddie.”

“Eddie, as in ‘Eddie the freak Munson’?” Robin asked, now extremely confused as to what Steve is up to.

“Yes, you remember him and … I can’t remember her name, but she always seemed to act like a kid around Munson?” Steve asked, awaiting an answer.

“Um, kind of.” Robin responded.

“She was like top of the class but when you saw her at lunch she would be colouring and drinking a juice box, laughing at Munson like he was actually funny.” Steve explained, throwing on his work vest, fixing a few of the buttons.

“Yah I remember that, but what does that have to do with Y/n?” Robin asked, beginning to loose interest in the conversation.

“Well I asked him why she acted like that, like a kid.” Steve said, his eyes moving all along the notebook and the messy words it held. “He said it’s ‘age regression’, you regress back to a childlike state, some people use it to heal their inner child, some do it for fun, often it’s a coping mechanism for stress.” Steve flipped the page. “I think Y/n might be a regressor, Eddie says speech also changed, as in ‘littles’ will talk like they did as a kid.”

“Like when Y/n babbled to us.” Robin offered. “Her speech sort of slurred.”

“Exactly!” Steve cheered. “I was confused at first, they seem put together and their life also seems fine.” Steve mentioned. “But their mom lost her job last year and I bet the weight of that has fallen on their shoulders. I mean I don’t know, I think they probably don’t even know what their doing. Which could be scary, I mean in a child like state it’s not like they can take care of themself, I just worry …”

“Steve?” Robin interrupted, “Just talk to them!”

“But what if they …”

“Steve if you are worried about their safety you need to say something.” Robin looked at him with a knowing look. “It is quite genuinely your responsibility now.”

Before Steve could even argue Y/n walked into the store, their most recent rented movie in their hands. “Hi Y/n!” Robin called out, making Y/n look over at the two workers.

When they did turn their face was in full view, a few tears rolling down their face as they faintly smiled. “Hi.” They whispered, trying their best not to cry.

Y/n ignored Robin and Steve’s concerned looks, instead walking towards the children’s movies once again. When they turned the reason for their tears was on full display, a small cut on the side of their forehead, a bit of dried blood surrounding it. “Y/n?” Steve called out, his voice shaken.

Y/n peaked around the corner, standing closer to the main counter. “You have a little cut.” Steve said, crouching slightly to really look at the full wound. “Looks pretty bad, can we clean it up for you?” He asked, looking back at Robin who gave a friendly smirk.

“‘m sure.” Y/n answered, Steve patting the counter in a gesture to hop up, a small stool placed at the edge to make it easier to climb up. “‘s it gonna hurt?” Y/n whispered, their bag and movie sat next to them on the counter.

Robin answered. “It might sting a bit, but it will only be for a second.”

Steve stood in front of Y/n, a first aid kit now at their side, along with Steves hands, caging them in, keeping them safe from falling off.

“Ready?” Steve whispered. Y/n nodded, not totally ready, but Steve and his soothing demeanour helped calm their nerves. “Okay, this may sting a bit, It’s just some water to clean the scratch okay?” He said, waiting for any confirmation that Y/n was okay with his actions.

“‘m’kay.” They whispered, just loud enough for Steve to hear them. He gently dabbed the scratch, making sure to be careful, just doing what was needed, then putting a bandaid over the scratch, rubbing his thumbs lightly over their head, checking for a bump.

“I think you’re all good.” He smiled, Y/n patting him on the shoulder as a gesture to say ‘thank you’. Robin smiled at Steve, he seemed so in his element, so purely happy to be needed, so happy to be helping someone. “Y/n?” Steve asked, getting their attention once again. “Do you know why you get all small?” He asked, Y/n immediately heating up and trying to shrink in size.

“‘m not small, ‘m big, ‘m fine.” They said defensively, worried about what Steve’s intentions were.

“It’s okay if you feel small. I’m not making fun of you, it’s okay to feel small.” He reassured, his hand on their shoulder, making eye contact whenever Y/n would allow their eyes to wander his way. “I just worry about you is all, this scratch is scary!” He cautioned, hoping they would grasp his true worry.

“‘m sorry, ‘s nofin really.” They insisted, their eyes finally meeting Steve’s.

“How about you come here when you feel small?” Steve suggested. “We have a tv in the back, you could watch anyyyy movie you want, but I could at least make sure you’re safe.” He pointed to the back break room, Y/n’s soon to be haven.

“And at school if you ever need anything you can come to me.” Robin offered, her head tilted to the side, hoping her openness and willingness to help could help ease Y/n’s worries.

“Really?” Y/n asked, confused by, but welcoming, the generosity.

“Of course.” Steve said, a big smile on his face as he grabbed the long discarded movie Y/n had brought in, checking it through the system and placing it in the ‘to sort’ pile. “Why don’t you grab a movie now?” He asked, gesturing to the entire store.

“Help me down please?” Y/n asked, holding their hand out for Steve to grab.

Steve easily obliged, helping Y/n find the stool and balance when on the ground. “They already have manners.” Steve cooed to Robin, watching Y/n wander to their favourite section, a content look on their face.

“Told you so.” Robin laughed. “And you weren’t gonna talk to them.

Before Steve could argue he heard Y/n call his name.

“Coming!” He yelled back, giving Robin a cold look but happily making his way over to Y/n, the newest addition to family video.

[titekuboisgross]

My theory on why IR didn’t happen…

I used to be an active IchiRuki fan. I no longer am. I did have a dream about tumblr the other day tho and when I was on here that’s 90% of what I posted about. After the manga ended I ended up deleting my account. I was not only done with Bleach but anime in general. I have not watched or read Bleach since it ended. Which is nearly a decade. So my arguments won’t be as solid as they used to be when I could literally recite that series like a souther Baptist preacher can recite the Bible lol. But while I’m here (as I just made a temporary account to look at things for nostalgia’s sake) I have decided I want to post my ultimate theory as why IchiRuki didn’t happen.

So, first and foremost I want to mention I am not liberal, why do I mention my politics? Because I am about to say some things that I’m sure I’ll get attacked for by people claiming I’m just a crazy liberal. But I am actually a moderate that leans conservative, a rare thing for tumblr I know. I don’t make accusations of sexism lightly. I don’t just willy nilly call people sexist because I don’t like them. But I do think some people are sexist. Sexism is real and it’s a prevalent problem in Japan. And I think Kubo may be a misogynist.

And before you start rage typing at your keyboards please hear me out. This isn’t my theory, it’s actually my brothers who is even more on the conservative spectrum than I am. He REALLY doesn’t make claims like this lightly, but I really think he’s onto something. He said basically he believes if Kubo is telling the truth that he never intended on IchiRuki and always planned Ichihime that it’s likely because he’s sexist. Rukia is Ichigos equal, she’s smart, strong, and she stands up to Ichigo and tells him off when he needs to be told off. Orihime is I’m sorry Orihime fans, but she’s dumb, ditsy, airheaded, and most importantly submissive.

In Japan traditionally submissive women were looked upon as ideal. Obviously I know that things have changed with modern times and it’s gotten a lot better. But echos of Japans former sexist past still is present within their modern society. As are echos of our former sexist past. As a student of anthropology I can tell you women are just f**ked in most societies. While the “tiger mom” stereotype is very real do not let that fool you. The ideal TRADITIONAL wife in Japan is still very much one who is submissive to her husband. This is why Rukia could never be Ichigos lover. She was not submissive enough.

Anyway, this is my brothers theory and I think he may be onto something. I used to think, we ALL used to think Kubo was foreshadowing IchiRuki, but maybe he wasn’t? Maybe he really is just that much of a talentless hack. I mean was any of Bleach even any good besides the first two arcs? After the Soul Society arc that entire franchise became a shitshow. And IchiRuki wasn’t the only thing he foreshadowed that never amounted to anything. See this is what I mean where my arguments won’t be as strong because I haven’t read the series in years, but I know y’all know what I mean. There’s a tone of shit in Bleach that he introduced that never got brought up again. So much lore that was never developed and in the rare cases when it was it never made any sense. So maybe he is just talentless.

I used to think he intentionally gave Bleach a shit ending because he was fired. If you remember Naruto ended a year prior and Shonen Jump used the popular Naruto pairings kids to make a sequel series to milk the franchise. I always wondered if Kubo knew no one gave a shit about IchiHime and that it would be impossible to make a sequel with IchiHime kids. So he sacrificed his series so his enemies couldn’t prosper off it. That’s what I used to think he did. But I’ve since changed my mind. I was giving that man FAR too much credit. I don’t think he’s that clever to think to do that. I think he’s kinda stupid tbh. Sorry but I do. Anyway. This is all I’m posting. I again just made this account because I wanted to say hi to an old mutual I was shocked to see was still around. You can reply but I’m not gonna debate y’all like I used to. I’m over that shit now. My opinion stands and you can’t change it. Like it or hate it it’s my opinion and I’m entitled to it. If you’ve gotten this far and read all my post I hope you have a lovely day!

Edit: I forgot to add that before you say “well Kubo can’t be sexist because he creates strong female characters” THINK AGAIN! I love Quintin Tarantino but the man has said very misogynistic things in the past including that he thought a minor girl could consent. And he literally created the most badass female characters of all time. Some of my favorite female characters. Beatrix Kiddo and O-Ren-Ishi. Yes men who create strong female characters can be sexist. Never underestimate a man’s ability to demean a woman smfh

Anyway I am serious this is just a throwaway account I made so this is my only post so it’s also my goodbye post so,

[tokuvivor]

May I please request “alright, who am i beating up?” for Donald & LP?

You certainly may! Alright, let’s do it.

I give you…

Splitting Time

Originated from this post.

Donald couldn’t sleep.

It was unseasonably hot for this time of year. Heck, it was September; it was supposed to feel more like fall by this point!

He glanced at the clock. 4:30.

“Well,” he figured, “I went to bed fairly early last night. Might as well get up now. As they say, early to bed and early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise.” He chuckled, remembering the first time he ever tried to turn in early. It ended with his alarm clock (the old-fashioned kind) broken, his mattress destroyed, and Donald himself somehow ending up looking like a snake charmer.

He made himself some coffee, and then went outside to enjoy it. After a couple sips, he heard a loud noise coming from inside the mansion.

“What the heck was that?” he shouted. He out down his coffee, and picked up an oar, ready to attack whoever might be intruding in the mansion at this hour.

The noise got louder as he approached the mansion. “Alright, you son of a gun!” he shouted. “Come get a taste of my oar!”

Except it wasn’t an intruder. It turns out that Donald wasn’t the only one in the house that decided to get an early start.

“Launchpad?”

The pilot looked up from his cereal. “Oh. Hey, Mr. D.”

“What the heck are you doing up so early?” questioned the sailor.

“Night patrol with DW,” replied Launchpad. “Then gotta bring Mr. McD to a big meeting at the Bin later today.”

“Wow,” chuckled Donald. “Anyway, why don’t we take this outside? Everyone else is probably still asleep.”

“Sure,” Launchpad answered. “Do you want anything?”

Then Donald realized he had left his coffee on the houseboat. “Oh, phooey, I forgot my coffee,” he grumbled. “I’ll get myself some OJ, I guess.”

After Donald poured himself a glass of juice, he and Launchpad made their way out onto the patio, sitting on the edge of it.

“Not too bad, I guess,” commented Launchpad. “Certainly compared to in there.”

Donald nodded in agreement. There was at least a light breeze rolling by in the pitch black of the early morning.

There were several moments of silence. Then Launchpad spoke. “Hey, Mr. D?”

Donald turned towards Launchpad. “Mmm?”

“Am I a good pilot?”

Donald was shocked by the question. “I mean, you’re a bit unorthodox, but I would say yes, you are. Why?”

Launchpad sighed.

“Did anyone say that you weren’t? Alright, who am I beating up?”

“Whoa, whoa! Mr. D,” exclaimed Launchpad, holding his arm out in front of the smaller man. “No one has. It’s not like that. I guess it’s just that sometimes, I doubt myself.”

Donald looked at Launchpad curiously and intently. “And why do you doubt yourself?”

“I mean, look at me,” Launchpad commented. “I crash.”

“Well, yes,” Donald responded. “But you know how to do it right. I, along with the rest of the family, sorta expect it from you by this point.”

“Okay, okay, you’ve got a point there,” admitted Launchpad. “But beyond that, like, since your sister came back, we’ve kinda split duties on the Sunchaser. But she’s way better than me at this whole piloting thing. And I feel like Mr. McD prefers her to me. And ever since I started doing Darkwing and Pilot stuff in St. Canard, well, I haven’t been needed as much here, anyway. It feels like I’m looking over my shoulder.”

“Look, buddy,” began Donald, putting his hand on the pilot’s arm, “just because you have more responsibilities to attend to, it does not mean you’re any less important here. With Uncle Scrooge’s elevated push to find the Missing Mysteries, he needs all the help he can get. And as for whether he favors Della over you, that’s baloney. He appreciates both of you as his pilots. And Della is not perfect as a pilot, herself. She would likely be the first to tell you that. As long as you both get people where they’re going, as long as you get back up, dust yourselves off, that’s all that matters at the end of the day.”

Launchpad nodded.

“And hey,” continued Donald, “we understand that Drake and Gosalyn need you more now, too. You don’t have to keep rushing back and forth between Duckburg and St. Canard. You can absolutely find a way to be both Darkwing Duck’s sidekick and Scrooge McDuck’s pilot.”

Launchpad continued nodding, taking a gradual sip of juice. “What would that mean?” he wondered.

“Well, for one,” explained Donald, “you could try staying over at Drake’s apartment more often, instead of wearing yourself out getting back here. If you’re not in the best shape to get Uncle Scrooge to that meeting later today, Della could always do it. How about you sleep on it, and figure it out when you wake up?”

“Alright. I will,” Launchpad replied. “Thanks, Mr. D.”

“You’re welcome, Launchpad. Have a good sleep.”

The two put their dishes in the sink, and then Launchpad headed off to the garage to sleep off his patrol.

Donald headed back outside, returning to the houseboat to get back to his coffee. Sure, it was probably cold by now, but he didn’t care. It was worth it being able to help his friend out with his present situation.

[robertsmithclone]

I Wait For You (Its What I Do)

Xavier Thorpe x Female Original Character (Sade Ricci)

Sade Ricci’s fangs just came in two weeks into the school year, so that means a transfer to Nevermore academy. (Does not follow show plot)

2k words (part two)

TW: referenced eating disorders, mentions of blood, arguing, cigarettes, pills, light sexual themes

Posting to Ao3 under wonde_rr and Wattpad under SHADYGROVEE

Playlist : it’s in the works

chapter two masterlist

translations at the end

-

After a blood pill and a couple painkillers, Sade walked out her door to find Rowan standing there, waiting.

“Rowan? Why are you here?” She asked skeptically. It wasn’t like she needed a stalker on her hands.

“Principal Weems’ orders. We have the same first period and I was told to walk you there.” He smiled at her slightly and cleared his throat. “You missed breakfast.”

Something told Sade that it was not in fact Principal Weems’ orders, but rather Rowan’s own agenda. She liked Rowan, but this was slightly odd.

“Okay, ragazzo carino. Where are we off to?” She grinned at him, fangs on display.

“History of Magical Beings. Would you like me to carry your bag?” Rowan questioned, starting to walk with Sade following. There was a light blush on his cheeks.

“That’s okay, tesoro. You’re too sweet to me.” In reality Sade thought he was slightly too sweet, but his sentiment was nice…sort of. It was more suspicious than anything.

They made their way to the classroom, Sade taking the seat next to Rowan. She pictured sinking her fangs into his soft skin and tasting his blood in front of everyone. Rowan was talking to her, but she couldn’t hear him. Xavier and Enid had just walked into the room and Sade almost fainted at the overwhelming scent combination of Rowan's blood and Xavier’s. She didn’t feel this way yesterday, why now?

Xavier smiled at her, as did Enid, and they took their seats a row back.

“Sade, are you okay?”

She turned to look at Rowan, who had a very concerned look on his face.

“Huh? Oh yes, I think I just took the wrong dosage of blood pills this morning…” Her attention was again taken away from Rowan as the teacher started his lesson.

——

When lunch came, Sade made the excuse of needing to grab something from her dorm- where she hid for the rest of lunch.

It was peaceful for the first fifteen minutes, until she heard the knock.

Getting up from her cozy bay window seat and stamping out her cigarette, she opened the door to see Enid standing there with a smile on her face.

“Heeey, Sade. I just came to get you— to come back to lunch of course!” The girl was bright, even in her purple and black uniform. She radiated a positive light.

Sade coughed, smoke still being present in the room. “Um, that’s okay, Enid. Thanks though.”

Enid’s smile faltered slightly. “But you haven’t even had anything to eat! Have you tried the chocolate muffins? They’re really good!”

“It’s okay, just vampire stuff, you know?” Sade lied, just trying to get Enid off her back.

“Not to be rude, but I know vampires that eat all three meals.” The blonde girl looked more serious now.

The vampire smiled, very tight lipped. “We’re all different!”

“Just come, you can't sit in here alone for the next hour anyways.” Enid smiled again, looking at Sade determinedly.

“Fine.” She finally gave in, realizing Enid wasn’t going to give this up.

——

Enid took back her place at their picnic table next to the lake beside Wednesday, Sade sliding in at the end next to Xavier.

“You did come back,” Yoko smiled at the vampire, breaking her usually stoic expression.

“I was coerced by your one and only, Miss invadente.” Sade nodded to Enid.

“Call her that again and I will rip your fingernails off.” Wednesday stared right at her, with a plain expression on her face. “It may be true, but you don’t get to use their lack of knowledge about your native language to insult people.”

Sade didn’t know what to do, everyone was looking at her now, confused on what she said. Enid looked hurt.

“I called her pushy lightheartedly, Wednesday. You can understand a completely different language but are completely tone deaf? How peculiar.” Her red eyes stared piercingly at Wednesday, like daggers. She turned to Enid. “Stella luminosa, I’m sorry if I offended you.”

Sade glanced at Rowan who looked somewhat indifferent, and then to Xavier who was looking to Wednesday, with a slightly angered expression on his face. Of course he’d be looking at her. Who wouldn’t? She thought she and Wednesday would make good friends, but maybe she was wrong.

The vampire got up and walked away, without saying bye to anyone. Maybe it wasn’t just Wednesday whom she didn’t fit with. Perhaps Rowan’s group just wasn’t for her. That left her alone again. Sade thought that at this point she was destined to have no friends—the universe wanted her to be alone. So be it. Wednesday was probably right anyways.

She had too much baggage for friends. It was better this way, to just distance herself completely. Forget about Xavier, Rowan, all of them. Sade had herself, and that was all she really needed, right?

——

Xavier was the first to speak after Sade had gone. “Are you kidding me, Wednesday?” He looked at her like she was crazy. “Sade‘s never gonna want to stay friends with us now.”

“Calm down Xavier, she’ll apologize later. Right, Wednesday? I wasn’t offended, I can be pushy sometimes, you even said it yourself.” There was a sliver of hurt in Enid’s voice.

Wednesday looked around the table. “Perhaps. It seems she’s getting you off my back, Xavier. It’ll be good to have her around, but I cannot condone her ignorance.”

“If it was any other one of us you wouldn’t have batted an eye, Wednesday!” Xavier was annoyed—or frustrated now. To him, the emotionless girl was out of line. He couldn’t believe he had harbored stronger feelings for her just a couple months ago.

Wednesday just stared at the boy, not seeming to care. She was selfish, sure, but she cared about Enid more than anyone.

Yoko, Rowan, and Ajax had been quiet the entire time, not sure how to react.

“So you’re just gonna stare at me? What is with you?” Xavier was still in disbelief of Wednesday’s words, or lack thereof.

“…I’m gonna go see Divina…” Yoko said with a slight sense of urgency in her voice. The vibe had gotten too out of tune with her own, so she got up and left.

Enid sighed. “Look, Wednesday and I will go. We can figure this out later when everyone cools down.” With one last look at Xavier, she got up and tugged Wednesday along with her back to their dorm.

Xavier rolled his eyes, resting his head in his hand, a sour look on his face.

“Don’t worry about it, dude. You know how Wednesday gets.” Ajax had spoken up, glancing at Rowan.

“Yeah, Xavier. Sade won’t be driven away by something so small.” Rowan said, although his voice sounded unsure. They barely knew the mysterious vampire girl, so as of right now she was unpredictable.

Xavier sighed, standing up. “I’m going to my shed for the rest of lunch.” He walked away from his best friends, basically ignoring what they had said.

Ajax and Rowan looked at each other, shaking their heads and sighing.

——

Xavier paced his shed, looking at the painting of Sade. The vibrant red of her eyes paired with the look of pleasure he had painted was intoxicating.

It was late now, his classes having gone by slowly. He had started sketching the painting during lunch and couldn’t wait to get back to it once his classes were over. The only good thing about them was that he got to sketch Sade, having more to go off of.

The mental agony from trying not to bring the painting to life was taxing, but he knew if he did there was no going back. Restraint was something he practiced often.

The music playing from his phone—a mix of Chase Atlantic and the Weeknd—was not necessarily helping with his restraint, but it seemed to be making the painting even more perfect. The flush on her cheeks, the blood stained on her fangs and lips—Xavier would kill to see her like this in real life.

As he was painting in her collarbones, he heard a crash outside the shed followed by a string of Italian curses. Xavier almost laughed, wondering what the girl he was painting was doing in the woods on a Monday night, and picturing her falling like he assumed she had just done.

He turned the canvas around to face the back wall of the shed, before walking outside to find Sade not too far away on the ground, bruises already formed on her knees. Was she seriously that fragile?

“Sade?”

She whipped her head over to him, a horrified look on her face. “Xavier?”

He grinned and walked over. “Need some help?”

That was how she ended up on the small mattress in his shed, holding her knees. Xavier looked the girl over a couple times. She looked amazingly small, and not in a good way.

“What are you even doing out here, anyways?” He asked, sitting on the stool beside his desk.

She looked embarrassed, wondering how to explain herself. “Sometimes blood pills aren’t enough.” was all she said, and Xavier understood.

“Do you often go out hunting in your uniform skirt and shirt, seeing how rumpled and dirty they were now after her fall.”

Sade gave him the middle finger and sighed.

“So…are you gonna like, bite me now since you have me all alone and cornered?” He was joking, but part of him almost wouldn’t mind being drained of his blood if it was by her hands.

She smiled lightly and shook her head. “Don’t give me ideas, Thorpe.”

Xavier couldn’t take his eyes away from her. She was enchanting. Was Sade really all it took to get over a certain dark haired girl?

“Is this your…art shed?” She questioned, looking around at all the sketches and painting on the walls and easels.

“Yeah, actually. I had found and cleaned it up so Weems let me have it for myself.” He nodded, looking around it himself.

Xavier picked up his sketchbook, flipping to a picture of a landscape with mountains, a lake, clouds, the whole ordeal. He moved to sit on the mattress at the end of her feet. She was vertical as he sat only on the edge.

The artist sat the sketchbook down and Sade looked at it curiously before he started to make it come to life, the clouds and water moving along with a small deer walking through the scene. A look of wonder and amazement came across the vampire’s face as she watched it unfold.

Xavier was watching her the whole time. “Cool, right?”

“Sorprendente, Xavier.” She was slightly breathless and Xavier knew he would never get tired of hearing his name on her red lips.

“I think I’m gonna have to make an effort to learn some Italian, huh?” He smiled at her softly.

Sade looked up at him, almost confused. “That won’t be necessary…I don’t exactly fit into your group. It is just by chance that we’ve met here tonight.”

Now Xavier looked confused. “Is this about Wednesday? I hope you know we think she was out of place for that. Or, at least I do.” He sighed and looked away, shutting his sketchbook. “Enid wants her to apologize.”

The vampire shook her head. “I don’t want to cause trouble.”

He looked back to her quickly, even more confused. “You could never, Sade. Wednesday is just protective and slightly selfish. If you said it about anyone but Enid she wouldn’t have cared.”

Sade still looked unsure. “I just want to do what’s best for everyone.”

“Maybe it's best for them- but not me, I…” Xavier trailed off. Was he seriously about to say he needed her? “I just mean that it’s not best for anyone. We want you around.” He looked her in the eye.

Sade almost attacked his neck right then and there, the smell of his blood felt more prominent when he was riled up.

“I’m not entirely…convinced, but perhaps I will try again. I suppose it was only really the second time being around you all.” She looked at him almost desperately for reassurance, as if his previous statements weren’t enough.

“Exactly. I promise you Wednesday is going to try and do better from now on.”

Sade looked away from Xavier. “Well I wasn’t entirely in the right either…”

Xavier shook his head. “It doesn’t matter, Wednesday reacted badly. Let’s just forget about it.”

They were both silent and the forgotten music was the only sound filling the room.

——

translations:

ragazzo carino - pretty boy

tesoro - sweetheart

invadente - pushy

Stella luminosa - bright star

Sorprendente - amazing

--

tags: @solacestyles

[wellthebardsdead]

To deny Godhood Pt3

Part 2 here

———

Shamat: *sleeping dreamlessly for the first time in his life despite his awkward position, dagoth ur finally silenced in his mind, the heart of lorkhan no longer pounding in his head, nor the heat from red mountain boiling his blood*

???: Voryn… it’s time to wake up…

Shamat: *blearly blinks awake to see hes still tied to the bed post, left there to stand all night as a further punishment for his behaviour, the sting in his arms from holding his weight was almost as bad as the one on his back from the lashing he received* … *looks up slowly to see nerevar looking at him with pity* … *looks away*

Nerevar: *gently places a hand on his cheek turning his head to face him* You look just like him, your voice is his, why do you deny who you are?… why must you make me hurt you like this?…

Shamat: *too tired and too weak to reply, simply leans into his touch hoping submissiveness will please him in anyway* …

Nerevar: *feeling his heart hurt for a moment at the gesture, thinking there’s still some hope to bring his friend back* …oh Voryn… *unties him and swiftly scoops him up carrying him to the wash room*

*a few moments later*

Shamat: *staring around the room with all 3 eyes trying to get used to his new sense of vision as nerevar finishes bathing him*

Nerevar: Beyond your cries of pain during the punishment, you didn’t so much as wince as I cleaned the wounds I left you…

Shamat: …you’ve seen the scars on my legs and the ones already on my back before you took the whip to it… My imprisonment was far worse than anything you can put me through… and yet here, makes me feel just as trapped as I did then…

Nerevar: You say that as if I am keeping you in a cell. As if I haven’t gone through great lengths to make this space for you. Do you really not recognise any of this?…

Shamat: *shakes his head slightly* I was never allowed inside the temple. I was born to no house. They only allowed me to sleep in the courtyard…

Nerevar: you don’t recognise your robes? Your books? Your old armour?… nothing?…

Shamat: the only thing I recognise in here is you… *looks over to his robes to see the mask of dagoth ur staring at him* and that horrible thing…

Nerevar: …you truely don’t remember do you… *sighs*

Shamat: the only memory I have of you before we met in whiterun was of the day you spared my life…

Nerevar: what?…

Shamat: you killed the dealer who used to give me skooma. I’d come to get a fix, only to see you running him through…

Nerevar: *remembering seeing him then, a near skeletal young dunmer, filthy and covered in fleas from sleeping in the dirt, cowering at his feet begging for mercy only to run away in fear upon receiving it* How long, were you on the skooma, before I found you that day?…

Shamat: Years, maybe a decade… it helped numb the pain of existing… if you’re implying it’s done something to my brain to make me forget ‘who I am’ then don’t… I was Shamat then and I’m Shamat now…

Nerevar: *sighs* why do you wish to be named an insult? A word play on the title of Sharmat? When I’ve worked so hard to repair your name in the eyes of our people, when I’ve worked so hard to allow your house back into the temple. Your people, they’re allowed to exist without shame now that you’ve returned… why deny them that?… why deny your house name?…

Shamat: why was I denied a childhood?… why did my own mother abandon me at birth claiming I was cursed? All because of this? *points to the third eye where his birthmark once was* why did I have to steal to survive? Why did I have to sleep with whoever would have me? Why did those men force feed me skooma? Why was I arrested for nearly a hundred years of my life over a murder I didn’t commit. Why should I give them anything? When all the people of this land have done is hurt me… Why should I care shout any of them? The people I love are back in skyrim… there’s nobody in this land who holds any love for me…

Nerevar: that’s not true…

Shamat: prove it…

Nerevar: … *gently pulls his head back planting a kiss just above his third eye*

Shamat: *pulls away and climbs out of the water covering himself with a towel, staring at him in a mix of confusion and insult* Only my husbands allowed to do that. You are not him.

Nerevar: I- HUSBAND?!