#but idk just picturing me and him in this scenario (especially the first or second pictures) is melting me ;_;

[crowsdove]

Imagine you and your f/o sharing a beverage with two straws (sweetheart sipping!)

(like in these pictures I mean. Could also be cute drawing references for you and your f/o maybe?)

*~•~°~*~+~*~°~•~*

> antis please dni <

*~•~°~*~+~*~°~•~*

[ayylovley]

Could you do some windbreaker characters with a fem s/o that likes to wear lolita dresses :) you can choose the windbreaker characters I can’t decide they are all so hot ^ - ^

Yess hope you enjoy ✨

𝔚𝔦𝔫𝔡𝔟𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔨𝔢𝔯 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔰 𝔵 𝔏𝔬𝔩𝔦𝔱𝔞 𝔣𝔢𝔪 𝔰/𝔬

✧.* JayJo

Once he saw you for the first time he’s bug-eyed and curious. Normally your style isn’t common so you stand out a lot. Some people around you compliment you and ask where you got your outfits. Others are annoying and mean and want to make fun of you and sometimes it’s very subtle. But Jay is very observant and can see the talking shit behind your back, and he’s not going to have any of it. Even if he doesn’t know you that well your style grabbed his attention, so little by little he’ll start talking to you. Being one of the people that compliment you but something was different with him, his smile was warmer and his body language exposed slight interest. Whatever you wear is his excuse to talk to you, for example if you’re holding an umbrella on a nice day he wants to talk about your outfit and then ends up asking more questions.

Conversations become about what type of music you guys like, what artists, recommendations, anything you recommend he will listen to it once he’s at home while he’s studying. But he can barely concentrate because you’re on his mind constantly. The music turns into eventually exchanging phone numbers to talk more, Jay is trying to stay friends for very long though because a month later he asked you out. Now that you guys are dating anything you wear he loves, even looking up the Lolita style online to search for dresses and accessories and send you pictures of them ‘Do you like this?’ ‘This reminds me of you.’ ‘I think you’d look good in this one’

He’s more protective of you because ain’t no way he’s gonna let anyone make fun of you now. Warnings and threats can turn into physical fights because people are so petty. He teaches them a lesson though, and he’s extra romantic with you afterwards. He admires your confidence and how you embrace yourself he doesn’t want that to end. A confidence booster, for sure. He’s your biggest fan, probably wants to take pictures of you a lot. Even if he doesn’t show it, trust me he’s obsessed with you and wants to be around you every second of every day

(That was long idk what happened just brain meats poured scenarios out of my head)

✧.* Vinny Hong

(This got a bit angsty)

Ok Vinny isn’t going to be as… responsive to how he likes your style, but he still thinks it’s really cool. If you’re dating him since he’s poor he’ll feel guilt for not being able to afford to buy you more outfits but at least he can afford flowers that match the color of what you’re wearing that day on a date. Whatever he can’t afford, he comes up with a plan to give whatever he has. He acts cold but he genuinely cares about you and wouldn’t want to lose you for the world. If you’re still dating him when he’s rich that’s when he’ll spoil you. He doesn’t expect anything back he just wants you to be happy.

You won’t be able to see Vinny as much due to crew business, but once he makes time for you he doesn’t want to leave you. These times are actually the hardest because if he’s going through it he will want to hold you. No need for words when you finally see each other he just wants to be in your arms again. And once he has to leave again he is even worse than before, your smiles just give him peace and comfort again and he needs that more than ever.

✧.* Dom Kang

Dom is simping… you’re a goddess to him that whenever he sees you he gets flustered and embarrasses himself a little. He’s not shy about showing how much he loves you, random kisses, hugs from behind, lots of compliments. He likes to brag and show you off (didn’t mean to reference the Doja Cat song lmao) But seriously he does… Especially when you’re rooting for him during the tournaments and he wins. He’s proud of himself and especially when you shower him with praises and hugs. Watch him melt and turn into a puddle.

✧.* Shelly Scott

One of the most romantic characters and your biggest supporter. If you don’t pull the strings she does and a lot of the times being the flirty one. You got her attention with your stand outish style like Jay. She genuinely wanted to be your friend at first, but she fell first and she fell hard. You fell hard too from how her charismatic personality and caring so much was pulling you in. It’ll take a little longer to confess to each other because you both assume you might not be into girls. But with little hints from Shelly, it started with subtle flirting comments like “If you were my girlfriend I’d spoil you.”

Finally she got the courage for just one date and see how it goes. Pretty much by the second date you’re official. She’s a bit clingy but that’s just her way of showing that she loves you. When she was training hard twitch her dad to help Humming Bird unfortunately she couldn’t reach out to you much but would send occasional texts like ‘😚’ or the cutesy love gifs

✧.* Wooin Yoo

Wooin might fun of you… Especially when he met you, but in his head he thinks he looks good and he can think it’s pretty hot that you don’t care what people think. And just like Dom, I feel like he enjoys when you watch him during his races. But compared to Dom, Wooin is kissing his own ass, “did you see how awesome I am, babe?” So you’d probably be mostly quiet until he’s done talking about himself or notices that you’re not saying anything to hype him up and comments on it

If someone made fun of you that’s when his limit comes because only he can make fun of you. He doesn’t care who it is even if his crew were to make fun of you. Though that wouldn’t really happen because 1. They know Wooin would be pissed 2. They actually don’t care how you dress. Surprisingly when you spend more time with The Sabbath Crew they aren’t as mean as you thought. Well, compared to your own boyfriend. But really when it comes to Wooin he is on high alert when you’re out with him making sure no one is looking at you the wrong way

✧.* Joker

Joker is the quiet type. But he’ll make up with it with physical touch and kisses. Just like Wooin he can’t stand it when people talk shit. Except Wooin doesn’t get into fights unless he’s provoked to, Joker on the other hand is violent. So he isn’t giving any warnings he’s giving a punch to a face. If you tell him that you don’t like when he gets into fights he will just not do it in front of you

On the cutesy side of things you met his brother and he thought you were cool. And his new puppy might finally have a babysitter while he’s in tournaments if you’re ok with it. If not he can just take the puppy with him like usual. Now he has someone to gush over animals with.

[irisintheafterglow]

some bonus hcs about dating volleyball captain!gojo while i finish up the next few parts of end game. hope you enjoyy !!

his lockscreen is of you sitting on his bed wearing one of his jerseys with no pants on

he'd just made you laugh really hard and it's a candid of you smiling

your lockscreen is of him standing in front of a tree that had "penis <3" carved into it with his thumb up

you'd literally teared up laughing when he begged you to take a photo of him with it

his homescreen is of you trying to wrangle megumi and yuuji to take a proper photo without getting distracted (the photo, therefore, being them getting distracted)

your homescreen is a mirror picture taken after you'd run around in the rain and were both soaking wet

he's holding you from behind and burying his face in your neck while you take the photo

if he wasn't protective of you before, he is the definition of protective now that you were officially together

other players that dare to hit on you before a match are humiliated by the honored one beating them at barely half of his full power

he'd blow you a kiss and then serve straight into the net because he's stupid <3

he likes to leave little notes in your pocket with the most OBSCENE things written in them and you have no idea how they got there

"your ass looks incredible today"

"call me mater because i want you"

"kachow i want you NOW"

he goes absolutely FERAL when you wear his clothes, especially his volleyball gear

doesn't matter if it's a jersey or his track jacket or a worn out tee-shirt from training camp

"you look better in that than i do, baby"

"though i do admit you'd look better in nothing at all"

you could wear his SOCKS and he'd get all giddy

if you're wearing it and it's not yours to begin with, he's a smug motherfucker

would unironically get you two those lego piece necklaces that create a heart in the colors of the school (i was thinking black and purple)

he always has to be touching you

doesn't matter the place or the time or the scenario

whether you like it or not, a part of this man's body will always be on yours

leaning against your shoulder, linking a single pinky with yours, touching your thigh with his under the table

it grounds him and reminds him that he's not alone

he love love loves it when you fiddle with his hands

you're laying down together with his arms around your shoulders looking up at the ceiling you'll trace the lines of his palms with your fingers and play with his hands and he literally melts

he's incredibly adamant to mention to eVERYONE that he has a partner including but not limited to: cheerleaders, fangirls, classmates, girls' team players, and other boys' team players (man can pull idk what to tell you)

at all times just

"i have a partner."

"sorry, i'm taken."

"i'm not single."

"i don't want you."

he'd never dream of giving up a love like yours because you see him just as satoru

not the powerhouse captain set to lead your school into its second volleyball golden age

just your best friend first then boyfriend satoru

whose bloodstream probably contains sugary green apple soda that you taste whenever he kisses you

"i taste that shitty fruity energy drink on your tongue again"

"so you admit you like my tongue"

"i just called it shitty, satoru"

"i'll start drinking a different flavor then, and you tell me which one you like"

he still doesn't convince you to call him captain

yet ;)

[bumblewarden]

Looking through the soundsets for some alienage pals, and i have spoils to share!

First up is Shianni. I'll be honest, i thought this was her Bad Idea comment at first because she can be so sarcastic, but it is fun to imagine her saying this approvingly. Most of these i've never heard in the game, and i don't know where i could find the actual audio files

I just love her sass

And here's a cute little parallel between Shianni and Soris's battle cries. I'm picturing the childhood wrestling matches already. Shiannii's probably around 2-4 years younger than him but kicking his ass more often than not

Soris also has a pair of delightful figures of speech for his Good Idea and Bad Idea comments

The existence of a Spell Failed comment for Soris had me 👀 for the half minute before i remembered that every companion has one. I assume it's in case any talent regardless of class gets interrupted, but i did start to think about that AU potential for a hot second. Might have to write a fic about it someday. Apostate Soris AU is just ripe for the presses

This one i just really want to know what his line of thinking was. While he's in the party, his only other party member is the Warden. If the Warden goes down, there's no "we" to help them unless you are in that conditional and very narrow window before f!Tabris finds Nelaros. Even while active, that would still mean running across the map to find him. Maybe it was originally planned to have someone else also join you during the break in or for Nelaros to live? Idk. Could just be a regular oversight since it's such a generic line

Moving on to Cyrion with something that is so simple yet would fill my Tabris with so much shame

Also we've got Valendrian coming in with the fire in his belly! He's so much more vicious than i expected! "Such a pathetic creature you are." Hello??? Does he actually know how to fight? Am i going to have to actually play Darkspawn Chronicles for a chance to maybe hear some of this now? What other possible combat scenario could this be intended for except that the toolset doesn't include anything DLC except Shale? I might go insane about this

(Yes, there's also a note that he'll never be in combat or controlled by the player, but at least his threaten and 5th battle cry don't look to be generic. Idk i have thoughts and questions about this, but Alistair's character sheet says he's 32, so it's not like it'd be the first or biggest retcon from the toolset)

We've also got quite a bit of elven coming from Valendrian! I don't think "Mur ta tanalla" even has a known canon translation but whatever it means clearly works as a battle cry

And to close out, some pickpocket reactions in the order of Shianni, Soris, Cyrion, Valendrian. Why did you attempt to steal from your father? Now, he's confused and disappointed

Soris's is definitely written with the CE Warden in mind, but i'd wager Shianni's is written with a non-CE Warden in mind. It's not that i don't think she'd say it, but (considering the VO note is "threatening") i do think that she'd instead take to it more as a poor joke if it were cousin instead of a near-stranger, especially if this cousin didn't accept Vaughan's bribe

Valendrian's line here also doesn't seem like he's speaking to a Warden Tabris considering he's described as a surrogate uncle to the alienage. But also him threatening anyone seems out of character. What happened to "the world has far more use of those who know how to stay their blades"? I'd expect exasperation, admonishment, maybe a little shaming. Can you imagine him saying this to a Cousland armed to the teeth? Combined with what i've already shown from him, it really makes you wonder how much his character changed over the course of development

And, uh, Nelaros. Either this line is miscategorized, or he doesn't quite get the concept of a war cry

[knickynoo]

While I was gathering the High School USA gifs, I couldn't help imagining scenarios where Marty, APK, and JJ are all interacting with each other. Idk if it would be a case of "identical strangers" or alternate timeline versions, but it would be fun. Especially with Marty and JJ! The many similarities and slight contrasts between them could make for some interesting stuff. In particular...

The fact that both of them don't exactly have happy home lives (at least not original timeline Marty). George and Lorraine, while physically present in Marty's life, aren't emotionally there and have their respective issues going on. Meanwhile, JJ's parents aren't physically or emotionally there. His character is alone in an empty house most of the time (I can't remember why--I think his parents travel a lot?), and they dont seem to really care much about him, so he's kind of raising himself without any real parental support system. [EDIT: I went back to check. JJ's father is always traveling, and JJ never knows when he's coming home. He hasn't seen his mother since he was 2 years old.]

They both have nerdy, science-loving best friends! Marty has Doc, obviously, and JJ has Otto, whose main storyline involves his quest to build this huge robot that mostly just ends up walking around and destroying things; it's great.

↑ Otto, in his very first scene meant to clearly convey, "Hey, this guy is a nerd." Look at all that sciencey stuff. He even has a framed picture of Albert Einstein!

Speaking of nerds, JJ is also one. Except, he's not the smart kind; he's the "outcast, class-clown" kind. JJ is just not considered cool by his peers, especially since his social circle mainly consists of other outcasts and "weirdos." Now, I don't think Marty is quite that ostracized by his own peers--he does dress cool, has a band, and skateboards--but I've never pictured Marty as being part of the in-crowd. His personality (sweet, sensitive, low self-esteem, etc) and the fact that his best friend is a widely disliked/rumored to be dangerous and crazy scientist probably puts Marty more on the fringes of most social groups rather than in any popular crowds. This is another thing they'd be able to relate to each other on.

Also! Perhaps my favorite thing would be just...sticking them in a room and watching them attempt to converse or attend to anything for longer than 5 seconds because. JJ is every bit as adhd as Marty is. Like. JJ is all over the place. He's late for school all the time like Marty is and basically lives in the principal's office because he's time-blind and scattered and always goofing off. One of my favorite scenes (and what spurred this whole concept) is where JJ has been sent to the office because he's in trouble again, and through the whole scene, JJ is just touching everything on the principal's desk as he talks. So as he keeps reaching for things, the principal keeps having to grab them back and move them to a place JJ can't get to until there's nothing left on the desk. And the whole scene is played like they do this every single time and the principal is so tired of it. [I think I'll gif this scene hmm]. Anyway! It got me thinking, "Wouldn't it be fun to stick these two in a situation together and watch them literally not be able to stay still or remain on a singular topic for more than 2 seconds."

Now, for a slight contrast: JJ loves Hawaiian shirts. Aside from the very last scene of the movie, where he wears a tuxedo, he's in Hawaiian shirts for the entire film. Not Marty's taste, clothing-wise, BUT! He does happen to have Doc, who is also a Hawaiian shirt aficionado. They can bond over that.

Additionally, a thing I find hilarious: the Crispin Glover Factor. I've neglected Alex P. Keaton in the scenario thus far, but this is a spot where I'd love to throw him into the mix since Crispin is in BTTF, Family Ties, and High School USA. And I just can't get over an imagined scene where, not only are JJ, Alex, and Marty weirded out by their own identical faces, but they realize they also all have this Other Person in their lives who shares the strange predicament. Like, maybe one of them has a picture or something and Marty's like, "Hey, that's my dad when he was younger" and Alex goes, "Um, no, that's my friend Doug," and JJ is all, "?? What? That's my buddy Archie." And it leaves them all so confused because, as far as they can tell, they don't have any other look-alikes that they share in their lives. It's just themselves and for some reason Crispin Glover. Weird.

So, yeah, thanks for coming to my rambling, everyone.

[starshipsofstarlord]

hii, i absolutely loved your “yes ma’am” jj one shot, just wanted to say that if you plan on writing more of that i would really really love to read it :) idk if you take requests but if you do feel free to interpret this as one i guess, even tho it’s not very specific 😭 sorry i’m not good at this but anyways i hope you have a very good day !!

baby boy

this can be read as a part two, or seperately from this

jj maybank x reader / masterlist

summary; the boy that you have intimate instructs with shows up at your door, after getting in an altercation with his father. you make him feel better, by proceeding to do more than patch him up / warnings; domestic abuse, jj’s dad is a piece of shit, mummy kink, smut, oral sex (male and female receiving), 69ing, titty sucking

“Let me make you feel good.” JJ was a state, he was bruised black and blue, the injuries having endured the soothing chill of ice to help reduce the pain. Though he still winced as he sat up straighter, staring at you. A frown caused discord to contribute to his features, as he became distracted by the other things he would wish to do to you.

It was a passion of his to be between your legs, delivering supple amounts of pleasure. Since the first time he had done such a deed with you, he was put on quite the tantrum if he wasn’t allowed to. A pout coursed the pursing of his lips, enforcing you to tut at his demeanour.

Though tonight, if you were sure he could handle such matters, you would go easy on him. Usually you took great pride in littering hand prints along his body, more specifically his ass, but for now he had enough bruises creating a discourse in his skin. You wished you had an eraser, so that you could remove all the endurances that he had survived, as well as to make his horrid father disappear entirely from the picture.

JJ deserved vastly better, and you were going to take care of him, as long as he consented of course. He needed to absorb the fact that life was not all pain, even for pogues, there were things to take pleasure in, such as the beauty of the collaboration of human bodies; it was a force of nature, endured through fusion of conspired cruelty.

Everyone knew of the circumstances that the blond managed to survive in, half the time, he spent the time of his slumber beneath his friend John B’s unstructured roof, or like now, under yours, a place that he felt safe, and secured in the setting.

Here, there was no need for him to be fearful, it was a shelter for him to fawn in, to feel free to bare the nasty inflammation of purple digress across his chest, and the split in his brow that would take a couple of weeks to completely heel.

The bruises, swollen like forbidden plums, etched out of his body, staring you in the face, though, it only served as a fatal reminder of his father’s subject to inflict pain. Though his anger and resented ways of parenting were induced by heroine, filtering his veins with a poisonous role as a boy’s father.

There was emotion surfing upon the tide of JJ’s azure eyes, brill by the pain that resonated within the waves, permitting rolls of sorrow to persevere out from his forlorn irises, sending signals of unmistakable endurance towards you, as though he were pleading to be comforted.

Briskly, he nodded his head, without words, saying that he was fine with the matter of you making him feel better; in fact, the desire of being held, and soothed, was rather intent, twisted with the feeling of being carved into a motion of forgetting the rash circumstances that had permitted him to be taken in, and nurtured by your soft hands.

His nose burrowed into your shoulder, nestling into the locks that cascaded down, the shallow breaths that he took granting him to breathe normally for a second. Each time that he shut his eyes, he pictured the scene; it was on the porch, mid morning. He was just about to creep in, and grab any supplies that he had left in his room.

But his father had been waiting for his late arrival, sitting on the chair with disappointment written all over his face. It was terrifying, and what with JJ being the way he was, he did not even attempt to bite back words, instead he allowed his mouth to run freely, resulting in the morbid beating, that had his bones aching.

The treatment was a regular occurrence, but this was cusping his mindset to be scathed, even when he was in your presence, cooped up in his safety net of your physical contact, the abusive actions flickering far behind his eyes, like a silent movie that had him keening out for something more optimistic in referral to his future.

As your had slid down his flushed skin, he gulped, almost moaning out at the tenderness that your hand attributed alongside his beaten flesh. He felt like he had endured a battle, and he was lucky to have gotten out alive. The remnants of the war were scattered about like a platter of marble, there were lines striking his exterior, creating a crack in his appearance, as though he were broken, and he sure as hell felt that way.

But you wouldn’t allow him to think like that; he was not broken. Instead he was tarnished, but there was still chance of having the certification to be repaired. And you would do anything to make JJ, your sweet boy, feel obscenely better. He deserved the world, yet with the brunt of it, he had been handed life on a stick, carrying his burdens around like a ploy.

It was the price all that were born on the cut paid, enforcing the image of the figure eight to appear like a paradise, with strong walls to hide behind, and grave teams of people that would willingly support them, whether they were neighbours, of friends, or coworkers, or anyone. And not to mention, they had the dough to hire lawyers and attorneys to respond with privilege in defence of their actions.

The lower your hand crept down, as though it were preying for something to attain a hardy grip on, the more erect JJ’s cock became. He could feel himself twitch in his boxers, for that was all that he was clothed in, the fragrance of your shampoo seeping through the breaching of his nostrils only aiding the ramifications of his pulsating length, that was growing by the second.

To adjourn his frustrations out, JJ knew that he was not supposed to wisp his fingers through your hair, and thus instead, he bunched up the sheets beside him that were stretched out like a layer of monotone and neutral land, lightly rutting his hips in an upwards motion, hoping, even mindlessly praying, that you would shift your attention to the prodding that was expedited from the inside of his underwear.

“Oh baby boy, it’s okay. I’m here, and I am going to take real good care of you.” You spoke as you noticed his crotch standing to attention, and him whimpering for the same eye drawing scenario. From your condemned statement, a slither of colour paved his face, mostly concentrated on his cheeks.

Your JJ was inherently blushing, the heat crawling over and under his flesh, as though he were embarrassed by how quickly he had gotten aroused. However, there was no need for him to be, and you assured him by pressing firm kisses along his jaw line, nipping lightly on the skin, and tugging with restraint upon it.

Slipping from his lips, a guttural groan fumbled out, purchasing a content smile to break out onto your face. The distraction was plentiful, more so as your hand cupped his bulge, gently stroking the top through the material with the pad of your thumb. It was a circuit of stimulation, erupting a course of pleasure through his veins.

“Don’t wanna- mummy.” He whined, making you cock your head in staged dominance, glancing down at him, as he pleasingly held his gaze upon you, with his jaw tipped up so that he could get the best perspective of your face.

“Don’t wanna what baby?” You lightly tease him, causing his heart to rapidly flutter as you continue to caress him through the red of his boxer shorts. There was a visible patch of precum on the crimson material, soaking through the layer, as he languidly rolled his hips, and to exhibit him further comfort, you leant down, tasting its sweet salted flavour in your tongue as you ran your tongue over the fabric.

Tugging at the rim of his underwear, you watched as his cock flipped out of the confines, bobbing up on the canvas of his stomach, with the layer of precum swiped over his tip, a little stretched down the ways of his length.

“I want to eat you, taste you.” He sniffled lightly, whining in a higher pitch, as he muffled his pleads into your neck. In turn to his nonchalant begging, you were coerced to rub your thighs together, unintentionally warming the slick that had gathered between them, it was hot to see his desperation.

“Mummy, please.” Light tears corrupted his eyes, he was on the edge of combusting from lack of getting what he wanted, and you didn’t have the heart, or lack of to deny him, especially after what had sourly happened to him, in the habit of his own family home.

As you went to peel his boxers all the way down his legs, about to untangle them from around his ankles, JJ urgently began to tug at your clothes. He could see that you had given into his wish, you were going to allow him to flick his hungry to please tongue over your slit, and he was eager to do so, as was quite obvious by the way he screwed the bottom of your shirt up in his hands, rolling the material in his fists.

“Patience baby boy.” From your soothing command, he calmed, and you threaded your hands through his hair, as a reward for his obliged cooling of behaviour. Slowly, as you leant your chest close to him, you remove your blouse, and from the soon proximity that you were in to JJ, he began to suck your tits through your bra.

A tut abandoned your mouth, and lightly with gentle might you pushed him back, to remove the last layer on your upper half, allowing him to return in his commencing of suckling on your nipples, as though he were a newborn, starved and inclined to feed. In the meantime of JJ salivating your nubs, you shifted out of your shorts, leaving you in nothing more than your panties.

His head ran down, his lips laddering down the steady rising slate of your stomach, down to between your thighs, his mouth succulently nipping over the thin layer of your panties, he remained there for a moment as you panted from the sensation, before rolling him over, and turning, so that whilst he feverishly tugged your panties to the side, you leant your head down, eyeing his cock.

Your hand trailed down to his appendage, swiftly tugging on his length, causing high pitched tones to emit from his busy lips, the vibrations muffled against your cunt, trying his utmost to devour your flow of juices. Enclosing your lips around his cock, you steadied your hips around the portrayal of his head, taking bit by bit further down your throat.

To add to his specifics of pleasure, you rolled his balls in the palms of your hand, rotating your fingers around the sack below his length, and thus you pulled you lips off from around him for a moment, to lick a line up the seam of it, before returning to deep throating his cock.

A few more bobs of your head had JJ finishing in your mouth, and for a minute, you rolled his seed around in his mouth as you thrusted yourself hips against his face, chasing your own high as you swallowed his.

“Wanna make mummy cum. Want to taste her sweet, sweet mummy juice.” Gripping onto his waist, you furiously rode his face, releasing a small, supple scream as you finished on his beautiful complexion. He toyed his tongue around your folds, soaking up every drop of your essence with his tongue.

With a heavy breath, you clambered off from him after cumming, a content smile prevailed on your face as you stretched your arm across to the bedside table, grasping up the packet of cleansing wipes, and retracted one from it, using them to wipe your juices off from his face, sweeping up the excess that was glossing his chin.

After disposing of the used wipes, you tucked JJ under the sheets, bringing him to lay against your chest, as you applied a kiss upon his forehead. His blue eyes fluttered closed, as he began to suck on your tits again, aiding him in having calm dreams, and forget about the troubles that had haunted him.

[drabbles-mc]

Lurking

Happy Lowman x F!Reader

Request by @est1887: I got a random request idea and of course no rush I feel like this would be perfect for my love Happy lol. idk I feel like maybe you’re coming home from a party or something and happy has been trying to get in contact with you and your phone died and you left you car charger at work and what you thought was your blankets on your bed or sofa idc which one is actually Happy sitting in the dark like the killer he is and he scared the life out of you when you hear your blankets talking but it’s actually him but obviously happy isn’t trying to scare the reader it’s perfectly normal to sit in the dark in someone else’s apartment that they don’t know he’s in lololol

Warnings: language, Happy being Happy lmao

Word Count: 896

A/N: A short but sweet Happy fic. I feel like this was a perfect scenario for him lmao. Hope you enjoy it! xo

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You popped your apartment door open with your hip. You were giggling quietly to yourself as you tucked your keys back into your purse, dropping the whole thing to the floor as soon as you were completely inside.

The apartment was silent, as it should’ve been at 2AM. You hummed to yourself as you made your way to the kitchen to get yourself a bottle of water and a few aspirin for the morning. Despite how dark your apartment was, and how buzzed you were still feeling, you could still navigate your place without having to turn on the lights. You bumped the fridge closed before leaning down to peel the high heels off your feet.

As you stood upright and made your way towards the bedroom, you saw something shift in the shadows on your couch. You froze, trying to focus your eyes on it in the dark. It wouldn’t be the first time that a pile of blankets and pillows threw you off. When you heard the creak of the floorboard under someone’s feet, you let out a scream as you whipped one of your heels in the general direction of the noise. You must have hit your target because you heard someone curse under their breath. That did little to comfort you, though, and you threw your second shoe harder than the first.

“Ow! Fuck, Jesus Christ, stop!” the person finally spoke up.

You’d been winding up to throw your water bottle, too, before you heard the voice. You stopped mid-scream and let your hand drop back down to your side, “H-Happy?” you reached and turned the light on.

Sure enough, there he was, standing there in the middle of your living room. There was a small cut on his forehead, presumably from when the heel of your shoe had caught him just right. His expression was one of disgruntled confusion. He traced his thumb along his forehead and looked at it for a moment before wiping the blood off on his jeans without comment.

He returned his full attention to you, “Where’ve you been?”

You couldn’t hide your confusion at the question, “What?”

He repeated himself, his tone still neutral, “Where’ve you been?”

You shook your head, “You’re not the one who gets to ask questions right now!”

His brows furrowed, “Why not?”

“Because you were lurking in my house like a goddamn intruder!”

“I’m not an intruder—you gave me a key.”

You sighed, looking up at the ceiling for a moment as you tried to muster up what little patience you lad left in the moment, “Why did you have to sit on my couch in the dark? Is there something extra appealing about looking like a burglar?”

He shook his head, “It wasn’t dark out when I got here.”

“When did you get here?!” it was hard to picture him just sitting in your apartment for hours, waiting for you to get home.

“You weren’t answering your phone.”

His response had nothing to do with the question. To be fair, that’s usually how things went between you. It took a while to get to the point sometimes. You tried to keep yourself in check, knowing that he was getting to the answer in his own roundabout way.

“Okay and?” you asked, “My battery died and I didn’t have my charger. How did that end with you sitting on my couch by yourself in the dark at 2 in the morning?”

“You weren’t answering your phone. I thought something happened to you. You weren’t working late so I came here looking for you.”

You pressed your lips into a thin line as you processed what he was saying. You knew that to him, it seemed like a perfectly logical chain of events. The creepiness of him sitting in your apartment in the dark was not something that his brain was able to register, especially if he had shown up nervously looking for you.

“I’m sorry you were so worried,” you pinched the bridge of your nose, “But why didn’t you turn the lights on?”

He shrugged, “I don’t know.”

It was an honest answer, and you couldn’t be mad at him for it. You walked closer to him, inspecting the small cut on his forehead before leaning against his chest, “I know I said you can make yourself at home even when I’m not here, but next time can you do it in a more obvious, less scary way?”

“Will you be better at remembering to charge your phone?”

You laughed as you draped your arms over his shoulders, fingers linking behind his neck, “I’ll work on it,” you paused, “Sorry about your head.”

“It’s fine,” he glanced over at your shoes on the ground, “They’re pretty good self-defense weapons.”

“Anything can be if you throw it hard enough,” you chuckled.

He smiled for a moment as his hands rested on your hips, “That’s my girl.”

A few seconds of silence passed between the two of you before you took a deep breath and rested your head against his chest, “Since you’ve already spent most of the night here, wanna come to bed with me?”

“Sure,” he let you tug him down the hall towards your bedroom, “I’ll make sure no one else gets in here.”

“Yea,” you laughed, “Can’t have more than one creep on my couch per night.”

[meltwonu]

| 𝔲𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔩 𝔦 𝔪𝔢𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲 |     [Chapter 1] 

pairing; fratboy!wonwoo x reader

this chapter’s notes; fratboy!wonwoo, dom!wonwoo, dirty talk, masturbation, sex toys, mentions of sexting/sending photos/videos, baby this has hella plot lmao dkhf 🥴💕 WELCOME TO UNTIL I MET YOU!! THE MINI-SEQUEL TO CAFFEINE! A bit of a shorter chapter but I didn’t want to overload with too much everything in the first chapter, ykwim? 😎 Thank you so much for your patience with this sequel, I know there were a ton of people asking for a sequel for months after I said I would 💕😭😭 As always, inbox roundup tomorrow! And don’t forget, next chapter for UIMY goes up on Feb 26th! T|H ch 1 next Friday! 🥰💕 Enjoy ch 1, have a great weekend and I love you! 💕

chapters; 1 - x - x - x - x

“Mmh… Wonwoo…”

His hands roam all over your naked body; warmth spreading all over when he digs his blunt fingernails into the skin of your waist.

“Feels good, doesn’t it? Did you miss me, sweetheart?” His voice is soft, gentle, yet teasing; barely above a whisper as your back bows off of the bed to lean into his simple touches. “I missed you, sweetheart. Missed your ‘lil cunt too.”

A choked sob falls from your lips, followed quickly by rushed, hurried cries for Wonwoo to move faster.

“Don’t you want me to take my time? We haven’t seen each other in months.” 

There’s a smirk on his lips, eyes twinkling with mischief when you reply back with a shaky whine. “Don’t you want me to slide my cock into your pretty ‘lil pussy nice ‘n slow? Let you feel every inch of me filling you up, just like it’s the first time all over again.” He stares at you dreamily; fixated on the way your body chases his hands when he drags them down to your thighs. “Or would you prefer it if I fucked you hard and fast? Your cute body squirming and trembling from how good I give it to you and my cock slamming into your tight ‘lil cunt.”

Wonwoo’s fingertips spread your folds as he licks his lips; appreciating how wet you already were for him.

“Bet your toys don’t feel as good as the real thing, huh?”

You shake your head ‘no’ furiously, “N-no, god, no! Wonwoo, p-please!” The male grins down at you, pouting mockingly at your desperate, pleading eyes. 

The wetness between your legs is unbearable and the sobs are caught in your throat when Wonwoo leans over you, lips ghosting across your own.

“Okay. Just say--”

You’re shocked awake by your alarm clock; chest heaving in deep breaths as you sit up in your crumpled sheets. “Oh, fuck...” Groaning, your clammy palms reach for the ringing device as you shut it off and sigh.

The clock reads 10:02AM; tired eyes trying to blink away the sleep that threatens to take you back to the dreamland you much preferred. Although, dreaming about Wonwoo was becoming a little bit too common these last few days.

Sighing once more, you move to get out of bed; already finding your panties soaking wet and sticking to you like a second skin when you stand.

“Ugh... Damn it.”

You press the vibrator harder onto your clit; teeth chattering with the pleasure that pours over your body.

“Oh, god, please, p-please…”

Images of Wonwoo dance behind your eyelids; sultry smirks and teasing glances bringing you closer and closer to the edge of an orgasm.

If there was anything that the last few months without Wonwoo taught you, it was that you couldn’t afford to lose him - in more ways than one. And despite his lack of calls or even text messages, you held out in hopes he still felt the same way that you did despite the distance.

You sent him pictures and videos of yourself often; teasing images half naked, toys in hand, and videos crying out his name while you came. And while he took the time to reply to those with praise and adoration, he almost never sent anything back. 

When he did, it was always short, clipped replies of how exhausted he was and how he didn’t have much time.

“Ngh, h-harder…” Your toes curl against the bedsheet; phantom feelings of his cock fucking you hard and deep making you cry out in desperation to be filled by his cock.

Your phone rings on the nightstand next to you as you cum - vibrator pressed so hard against your clit that your back bows off of the sheets while your thighs shake uncontrollably. 

And for the first time in a long time, it’s an orgasm that feels like it’s worth something.

‘Gyu: hey did wonwoo text u?

‘Gyu: he’s back next monday he said

‘Gyu: idk abt classes tho, might be out of commission for a while bc jetlag

‘Gyu: thinking abt throwing him a party on friday after he comes back...

‘Gyu: u wanna plan with us orrrrr? U got a private party or sth 🥴😏

‘Gyu: lmk

You’re nervous. Shy, even.

After you’d come down from your orgasm and checked your phone, your mind momentarily went blank from shock and the first thing you’d done was text Wonwoo to ask if he was really coming back that soon.

‘Ah, yeah, I was just about to text you. Prof said we can go home early if we wanted since we finished up classes. I’ll see you sometime next week? Jetlag and stuff.’, was all he had said and in your excited state, the only thing you had responded with was an, ‘Okay, great!’, without asking when, where, or what time.

You figured you’d give him some time to readjust instead of bombarding him as soon as he got in. But each second that you knew Wonwoo was home, you found yourself itching to just be in his presence.

You just had to be a little more patient.

Wednesday morning comes and you find yourself skipping your morning class to go to the library.

For studying, you tell yourself.

The male at the receptionist table shoots you a small smile to which you awkwardly smile back before ducking into an empty aisle. All you knew was that it seemed like Wonwoo wasn’t here.

Maybe he’s still at the frat house, you wonder.

Sighing slightly under your breath, you decide that maybe getting some work done would actually help distract you from looking for the male.

You find an empty table, setting your things down before pulling out your phone. 

In all honesty, you weren’t even sure why you were being so shy and nervous about contacting Wonwoo, especially when you so unabashedly sent him nudes every few days when he was away. 

Although, with how things had been before he left and the prospect of actually dating once he came back from his semester abroad - the butterflies in your stomach had been nonstop with the different scenarios that played out in your head. You’d even gone so far as to plan what happened if Wonwoo had decided he didn’t want to make an attempt at dating you.

“Sweetheart?”

The grip you have on your phone only tightens as you whip your head around to find Wonwoo standing behind your chair and you swear your heart stops beating the same time your breath gets caught in your throat. “H-huh?”

He smiles gently down at you and you can’t help but wonder how long you were spaced out to not notice him there. 

“Is this a dream too?” You wonder aloud - Wonwoo chuckling in response as he moves to collect your things for you.

“Have you been dreaming about me that much, sweetheart?” You stutter and stumble over your words; embarrassment eating at you every second that Wonwoo has a knowing smile plastered on his lips.

“C’mon, let’s go get something to eat since we both know you’re not really here to study.”

The version of Wonwoo that sits across the cafe table is… different.

Not bad, just different.

His arms are much tanner and definitely more muscular and the glasses missing from his face lets you appreciate his eyes even more when they’re not hidden behind the thick frames. He had even opted to wear a sleeveless shirt; something that you weren’t used to when he usually was around campus in long sleeves and sweater vests.

Although, you can’t and won’t deny the way your body reacts to this Wonwoo.

“Hey, I’m talking to you and you’re just spacing out.” Muttering, he leans over the small cafe table until his face is only inches away from yours and the smirk on his lips already lets you know that you’ve been caught staring.

“Listen, I know I’ve been gone for three months but you’re lookin’ at me like you haven’t had a fix in all that time.” Your lips press into an embarrassed firm line, avoiding his stare as he raises a brow at you.

“Wait, you didn’t fuck anyone in the three months I was gone?”

“No… did you?” Your voice is barely above a whisper; a little afraid that his answer will be ‘yes’ when he takes a second longer to respond.

“Nah,” He settles back into his seat, “I told you, didn’t I? I was willing to try the whole… dating, relationship thing with you when I got back. Although, I’m somewhat surprised one of the others didn’t try to seduce you while I was gone.”

You laugh slightly, cheeks warm as Wonwoo teases. “I wouldn’t have given them the time of day anyway.”

Your entire body burns hot, palms clammy in your lap from how giddy you were to be with Wonwoo and it made your heart do backflips knowing that he’d still been willing to try with you.

“Ah, how was it abroad anyway? You… didn’t really say much over the past few months so I feel like I don’t know how you were. Just some messages about how tired you were...” He takes a sip of his coffee; unintentionally making you internally scream when his lips form a pout while he thinks.

“Honestly? Other than the days we were excavating ‘n stuff, it was pretty boring. Really hectic though, and a lot of documenting which meant a lot of paperwork. I swear, I closed my eyes and I saw the inside of my textbooks.” He chuckles lightly, eyes focused on the cup of coffee in front of him.

“I just want to say sorry for my lack of communication. I really didn’t expect to be so busy that I couldn’t even pick up a call.” There’s a genuine apologetic look on Wonwoo’s face when he looks back at you. “And the time difference was really rough too. I didn’t want to take it out on you over the phone if I was stressed about not sleeping or the workload. I know we can get a little rough when we ‘play’ but this wasn’t that and it wouldn’t have been fair.”

Oh.

“T-that’s okay, I understand!” Your heart does somersaults in your chest, “I--thank you for thinking about me too.”

The feelings you have bubbling up inside of you make you feel like you’re falling in love for the first time, all over again. “Um… Sorry I sent so many pictures ‘n stuff.”

Wonwoo laughs, this time throwing his head back slightly before he tries to hide his wide grin. “Oh, sweetheart. Don’t apologize.” Your eyes meet his and for a split second, you see the familiar dominating look in his eyes before he leans over the small cafe table again.

“I might’ve not had all the time to entertain you those times but I thought about you alllll the time. I missed everything about you.” His voice is barely above a whisper - careful to not let anyone else in the cafe hear the topic of conversation. “Which, by the way…You piqued my interest earlier with your question. You never really answered my question about having dreams about me.”

You shift in your seat as you avert your eyes from his; eyes flitting down his toned body instead as you mentally curse yourself.

“I… kinda? I m-mean… not normally but just--just these last few days. It’s almost been every night… I wake up and--and it’s just… I’m...” You trail off; somewhat shy to say the rest of what you were going to say even though you’re almost certain Wonwoo already knows.

“Odd. Me too. I kept dreaming about you, which is, honestly, kind of why I thought to come back earlier.”

“Oh?”

“Mm, we still had 2 weeks left, technically. A bit of a spillover since my professor wanted us to explore the city once finals were over. But I just wanted to come home.” He finishes with a chuckle - a soft look in his eyes.

You pout back at him, “You didn’t come home early just for ‘lil ‘ol me, did you?” You say it jokingly, but deep down you do wonder.

“Would that be so bad?” Grinning, Wonwoo sets a couple of bills down onto the table to cover the meals you both barely have touched.

“Like I said, I missed everything about you, sweetheart.”

Wonwoo walks you back to your place afterwards; laughing and joking with you as if he hadn’t been gone for the last 3 months. 

There’s a certain playfulness about him that makes your heart bloom and part of you wonders if he’s opening up to you more now that there’d been some time apart.

“Are you gonna be working at the library again? Or is that done forever now?” “Mm.. I mean, it’d be kind of weird if I stopped, don’t you think?”

The grin of his face is telling and you have to mentally stop yourself from letting your mind wander in the middle of the sidewalk. “Y-yeah... Studying in my apartment isn’t really the same, y’know…”

Laughing, Wonwoo takes the opportunity to swing an arm around your shoulder as he tucks you under his arm. “I was actually at the library earlier to ask about my position back. I start tomorrow.” Goosebumps rise on your skin and the close proximity is enough to make you whimper.

“I’m only taking two classes this semester to give myself a bit of a break so I’ll be in the library more often to fill up the time. You can always call me if you need to know where I am. I promise I’ll respond this time, sweetheart.”

Before you know it, the two of you are already standing outside of your complex as Wonwoo takes his arm off of you.

“Will I be seeing you tomorrow?” There’s a hopeful lilt to his voice that has you nodding feverishly in return.

“I have a morning class but I’ll come by in the afternoon? I can text you to let you know, just in case.” You offer back.

Wonwoo licks his lips, tilting his head before leaning down and kissing you on the forehead.

The soft gesture momentarily throws you off as you freeze but the smoldering look in Wonwoo’s eyes when he pulls away lets you know that he’s already scheming.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, sweetheart.”

[approximately20blorbos]

Ayo, it was really fun, so here goes right back at you! What's the latest song you've heard that makes you think about one of your wips/characters, and why does it do that? <3 Gimme, gimme.

!!! thank you!!

man this is actually kind of hard, my memory is so bad lmao. according to my song add history for my big playlist it was Choke by I DON'T KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME, which could certainly apply to more than one of my characters, but when I played it back right now it made me think of Regaya more than anyone else. as a matter of fact most of the recently added songs apply to her so I guess I'm just fated to talk about he no matter what :)

so tw for murder, grooming, and abuse beneath here but honestly Regaya's past as a whole is a bit of a dead dove do not eat sort of scenario so PROCEED WITH CAUTION, I'm not really gonna sugarcoat things and I'm gonna hide this under a cut too

so this song makes me think so much about when she killed her horrible abusive fiancé, who definitely deserved death many times over, and a little bit how she'd love to do it again to her horrible abusive mother given the opportunity. but mostly about the former so I'm gonna pull some lyrics and talk about them for a bit

first of all, the chorus (trimmed down to the most relevant part):

I wouldn't hesitate to smile while you choke yourself and die now that would be just fine and what a lovely time, that it would surely be so bite your tongue and choke yourself to sleep

now this part kind of makes me think of the murder while it was happening more than anything, it just puts this picture in my head of what happened, BUT before I get into that I have to say that I love that it's written in the future tense bc this was absolutely a premeditative thing on Regaya's end. it took her months of preparation to not only have a plan and poison made (especially being under the ever-watchful eyes of her mother and fiancé) but also an escape plan because going right back to her mother after her fiancé's death was guaranteed to bring her back to square one. She had Embrist's help for all this of course, but that didn't necessarily make it any easier to pull off.

now she used cyanide for the murder (which she made herself) which basically prevents a victim's blood from carrying oxygen around the body (which is sort of like suffocation, I guess?). this was over the course of a little business trip so hiding the evidence and escaping would be easier. Basically due to a little bit of lore if her fiancé tragically disappeared during their travels over this specific stretch of land, no one was likely to look too hard at it, and Regaya could get off scot-free. anyway, she hid the taste of cyanide by serving it to him in sliced marzipan and she used far more of it than what already was a lethal dose, just to take no chances. I'm sure she was terrified this entire time but she was desperate to get out of her situation. I want to say more about how she was feeling in the moment but idk how exactly to explain it? I'm sure she was in the sort of hysterics that can have you laughing and in terrified sobs at the same time. regardless, she did pull off the murder, hid the evidence fine, and fled to the Crystalline Capital where she attended college for the next several years. I'll stop rambling on about the details now lol I'm sure it's a little weird that I have so much to say BUT there's another little lyric I wanna highlight for a second:

you get everything you want and money always talks to the idiot savants

so her fiancé was the sort of entitled rich businessman that this sort of lyric applies to, which is a fairly small detail in the song, but I love when little pieces line up with my daydreams and not just broad themes so it was definitely worth a mention!! this also kind of applies to her mother, who's definitely not only involved in "high society" but also is quite wiling and used to using any form of manipulation and even violence she can to get her way, which mostly has to do with her obsession over continuing the once-royal bloodline so that one day power to the family may be restored. (get over it girlie, your family lost power like 30,000 years ago. things change). she cherry picked that fiancé for his money, status, and family before Regaya was even named and said fiancé tried his damned hardest to groom her into the perfect future trophy wife but yeah, that backfired when she killed him. honestly there are arguably some parallels here bc Regaya's mother killed her husband when he started to realize how horrible she really was and tried to leave with the kids. obviously not identical situations here but I still really like to think about it.

to leave this off on a lighter note - don't worry too much for Regaya. her life gets so much better from here even if she certainly hit more tragedy on the way. nowadays she's very happy and in a pretty good place mentally. she's got a job she loves and finds great satisfaction in, great respect in academic communities for her advancements in medicine, plenty of friends by her side, a husband who loves and adores her for everything she is (especially her independence!), and the kids she's always wanted even if she's been afraid of indulging that dream in the past. so although her past is dark, things turn out alright for her in time.

so that was a lot and I hope it wasn't too dark but thank you for the ask!!! I was glad to have something to answer and this was really fun :)

[seijorhi]

asks :))

what i have learned today is that y’all wanna get fucked by some monsters...

What does nostos mean? What language is it in? 🤔 also I of course loved it, mind blown as usual queen

it’s ancient greek! it means homecoming, the idea of a triumphant return home for the hero after a long journey. i found it through looking at the root of nostalgia. in this fic of course it’s kind of a grim tongue in cheek play on it. the reader’s coming back to the mountains, but she’s running away after a bad breakup, and the welcome she gets is... shall we say less than ideal haha

Just read nostos-

First of all as a person who reads monster shit- hell ya. Mhm. That’s some good shit right there. That was DELICIOUS horror. It actually had me a bit nervous and afraid to read what was gonna happen next 😳

Secondly- omg I wanna know what happened next (at the end) 👀 know what I mean??? 😼

ANYWAY AS ALWAYS you never disappoint and your writing is fantastic (if/when you write horror yandere stuff again I’ll be there- frothing at the mouth. A+++++ work ILY💖)

you want me to write the monster porn, just say it bby ghfjdkshgfjkd but ty

Omfg that fic was so good!

Did the readers mom know about monster kuroo?? Or was she just worried because of the previous murder? And did Kuroo somehow manipulate reader into coming back to the forest or was it just a big coincidence? (👁👄👁 there's no such thing as a coincidence)

Looking forward to your future work <3

ty nonnie!! i didn’t have the right space for it, but after kohsuke was ripped apart and eaten kuroo stayed by the reader’s side until late in the night, only disappearing when he heard the reader’s parents/search party approaching. they found her lying in pools of blood (and scattered half eaten body parts), shaking and unresponsive – they knew no animal could’ve done something like that. so they knew something lurked in those woods, but considering the reader had repressed the memories, her mom couldn’t just come out and say it <33

You are an AMAZING horror writer!!!

The uneasiness I got from the conversations with the mom is just *chefs kiss*

A+++++

ahh thank you!! horror is such a hard genre to write because i’m never sure if the suspense and everything’s gonna hit right haha

I read Nostos before going to sleep last night and at the time I was like “sure hope this doesn’t give me nightmares” and thankfully it didn’t lol. But I think I’m willing to take that chance again because it’s so GOOD and I think I’m just going to have to relive it – @ohno-otome

fhdjgbfhjkdfn i’m glad it didn’t give you nightmares bby!! but i also appreciate that haha, i’m an absolute wimp with scary movies and stuff but i just can’t stop watching them haha

I just wanna say that I was listening to "You're a psychotic villain playlist" on youtube while reading Kuroo's oneshot and I can't explain the emotions I felt, but I'd let Kuroo do things to me asdfghjkl – @itishebihime-samaforyou

ooh nice! sometimes the right playlist makes things doubly as fun haha

OH MY GOD!?!?! Nostos was soooo GOOD?!?!? Like it was so creepy (but in a good way), and scary and suspenseful!! And the ending!?!? Omggg honestly one my fav fics from you!! You did my mans Kuroo justice 🥺💖💕

TYYYYYYY i was genuinely concerned i was gonna scare everybody off haha

Ah! The new fic! Chiefs kiss! Magnificent! Bravo!🧚‍♀️✨🧞‍♀️🦖🦭🌹💫

tysm nonnie!!! <33

i’m pretty sure i’m in the same/similar timezone as you? and i do be staying up late to be one of the first to read your fics (i usually stay up late anyways). so imagine my surprise when i see you post in the afternoon. in conclusion, whether you post to align with your european and american readers’ timezone, my gmt+10 arse will still be one of the first to read your fics. also nostos sjdufigyyjf i have to admit, i recently just found out about monster fucking and nostos scratched the itch😫 i feel bad for kohsuke though

bby i always post at like 2-4 in the morning please get some sleep!! the fics will be there in the morning lmao. i kinda low key forget about my aussie/gmt+10 followers because i think there’s like... 3 of you haha

Honestly if i could give u a dollar everytime i got off to your fics, you'd probably be rich by now

lmao the idea that people find my fics hot enough to get off to still blows my mind lol

your newest kuroo fic was so SO good!! its totally okay if you dont want to answer this so you can keep things ambiguous but is monster kuroo planning on killing the reader after he's...done with them

thank you, bby!! but no, monster kuroo isn’t gonna eat her – he’s had plenty of chances to do that if that’s what he wanted, but he has other plans for the poor reader

RHI, I WANT TO STATE FOR THE RECORD THAT I AM OKAY WITH MORE MONSTER FUCKING IN THE FUTURE. i also want to say im not a monster fucker, but that just feels like a lie at this point. okay, now that that's off my chest, i love it. the mystery, the connections of kuroo to a cat. kuroo's probably gonna go and batter around his prey once they're under his grip like my cat does. hopefully the reader will come out somewhat unscathed, if they are ever allowed to leave 😌 love this, love how different it is, the way kuroo just tries to weasel in. very monster and yandere vibes, very you. have i said i love this yet?? id willingly let him get me drunk on his cock, maybe never leave the peace of the mountains again

‘i want to say that i’m not a monster fucker’ bby the denial will get you nowhere haha. just lean in and embrace it hgfjkdlkfgjnkdl ahh but thank you this is such a sweet ask ILY!!!

Omg omg the monster thing kuroo was in ur latest fic is so familiar to me abdhdmfnjfjf. I remember being told abt a monster with VERY SIMILAR characteristics to it (aka the not being able to go inside a house unless invited and using fire to lure ppl out) AND JFC IT TERRIFIED ME. Esp how when i told ppl around me and they didnt recognize what it was, but it was somehow known to the kid that told me abt it.

(Some ppl thought it was familiar but still didnt know what it was)

Do u know what im talking abt? Hopefully u do

-🥚

GHFJDK so the monster in this is kind of based off the nekomata spirit in japanese folklore - they can appear like people, torment victims by reanimating the corpses of their loved ones, they’ve been blamed for forest fires, so it was just fun to use that as a basis and then go buck wild haha. anyway thanks for the ask bby!

Rest In Peace Kohsuke, you would’ve loved Haikyuu season 5😔✊– @joyvstheworld

poor kohsuke deserved better, i’m just mean to the oc’s i throw into fics haha

Monsterfucking ❤❤❤❤❤❤ a little annoyed you're making me simp for yan Kuroo though (a vibe tho tbh). You're so extremely talented!!!! &

This is probably a stupid question, but how did Kageyama react when he couldn't find y/n? How is life with yan Suga? I imagine probably awful BUT yknow maybe the stockholm syndrome set in fast lmao. Sorry, I'm going on a binge reading your stuff. - @oracleofdin

i will not apologise for making you simp for kuroo he deserves it the man’s a snacc. and as far as your second question, suga’s a very caring, very smothering kinda yandere, so i guess in some ways it’s better than what the reader had with kageyama but... pick your poison haha

That was so good. I’m so shook rn I can’t comprehend anything but how good that was and how good a writer you are

TYSM NONNIE!!! <33

Ok, so, I just read Final Girl and the lil' ticket addition to it and just---

Well, ok I've been playing Dead by Daylight a lot lately? And I'm just picturing Tetsu as the newest killer "The Trickster" and I'm positively RANDY.

Your writing is ALREADY thirst inducing and just as satisfying, but this has SENT ME- If you're not familiar, please...

https://youtu.be/iowkiPobYYQ

Understand my thirst. (I'd also like to clarify, I use a different skin for him that gives him black hair and he looks like Kuroo with an undercut.)

~ @the-casual-hedonist 🌸

i love how feral y’all got for final girl kuroo. like bo and akaashi had his fans, but i put a spiked bat in kuroo’s hands and y’all lost your goddamn minds and i love to see it. fghdjkvhfjdkls thanks for the ask bby

idk why but I love preggo reader as long as I don't pretend it's me 😢✋ I hate babies n pregnancy anywhere else other than horny haikyuu fics

i think that’s a valid thing for a lot of fans. the idea of breeding is sexy, the actual getting pregnant and having a kid thing... not so much. but especially with non-con scenario’s, it’s more about the aspect on control than the actual desire to have kids. but yeah, i feel you

Sorry to bother but uh was just wondering in fracture did Osamu kill his wife or was it actually an “unfortunate event” ? Love your work btw!!

he most certainly did :))

LMFAO RHI i totally get not liking cheating/infidelity fics (towards reader) bc IT HIRTS ME SO BAD I CANNOT HANDLE THOSE.

id be reading fics those fics like: tf you mean my yandere aimt gonna baby me and only want me??🤨🤨🤨⁉️‼️

EXACTLY! listen i get that it’s a fucked up fantasy, but in my fucked up fantasy you damn well better have the decency to be loyal smh

Finders keepers is the most beautiful thing I've read by you: I read it twice like I normally do and here's what I figured out the second time (that's when I analyze it and find the little tidbits of things that are much darker than they appear (: )

To start I LOVE THE DETAILS OF THEM NEVER TEACHING READER ANYTHING- at first I assumed "oh they might see her as a little sister or child or something" but realized thAT WAS THE ISSUE!! they infantilize her and isolate her from everyone but her group. the small details like that are what make the story amazing 😎💅

ahh thank you so much, nonnie!! pls this is making me soft 🥺

I just wanted to stop by and say that I love your writing and I hope you're doing well!!! Drink plenty of water and keep up the amazing work :) but seriously you're one of the best fanfic writers I've seen on tumblr! I read your "Imitation" piece about kuroo and i keep coming back to it, it's so good! I did want to ask if you think it'd be possible for the reader to ever escape with the baby (or at least attempt to). Or if Kenma would "help" at all just to put an end to kuroo's antics lmao

kenma would in no way help the reader, and tbh by that point if kuroo did get her pregnant, she’d be far too emotionally dependant on him to actually even want to leave, but thanks for the ask!

You know who I think would be a perfect Yandere in the JJK world? Choso.

🚨Spoilers Ahead🚨

After being locked in a glass jar for however long he was, and all that happened with his brothers, I feel like he would absolutely never let his darling out of his sight. He would be possessive. Obsessive. And Oh So delusional. Sure he’d be your anything - he truly is a softy - but to what end?🤤

choso would make an excellent yandere, ngl 😌

what au/troupe of your fav character(s) that you have written do you like the most?

(rlly hope this makes sense🙏)

i am always a slut for soulmate au’s :))

[notthatiwilleverwriteit]

Hi! Love your takes on 19 days especially tianshan!! They are very insightful and a fun read! Idk if you already wrote about this, but I was wondering what your take would be if he tian came to save Mo instead of She li. I wonder how their dynamic would be in the present. Would they be more like zhanyi?

Hello, dear anon!

Waah, thank you for such praises! I’m glad you have enjoyed reading my mullings!

As a heads-up, this turned much longer than I anticipated, so better find a comfortable seat.

“what your take would be if he tian came to save Mo instead of She li”

I haven’t actually thought about this before, so thank you for this interesting avenue that had never even crossed my mind. The more I thought about this, the more question popped up. I feel like this would be a pretty significant change, especially for MGS’s character. To try and keep this scenario somewhat in control, I scrolled through the comic with your question in mind and let my nose sniff out where the “new” story would take me. So, this might not be exactly a “realistic” take on it but more like where the story and characters would go in my head if things had been different.

The question of timeline

First, I feel like we need to figure out the correct timeline for all this, so it’s easier to gauge HT and MGS’s characters more accurately. According to my calculations, SL saved MGS sometime during their first year of middle school (ch. 282, 319):

In the current canon storyline, they are in their last year (3rd year) of middle school, so two years off that would put the piercing incident somewhere on their first year. (Look at my mad math skills.) I’m assuming the first school year had already begun since SL had transferred and already gained some reputation at school. Other than rumors, he hadn't crossed MGS’s path.

So, let’s figure out 1st year MGS and HT. With MGS, we have seen glimpses of what kind of character he was (ch. 319, 283):

He had many of the characteristics that are familiar to us in the current timeline, too. He was caring and compassionate. His first instinct was to help, and he dint want to see people hurt. I believe he still has those qualities these days, but he’s learned to hide and suppress those instincts the hard way. I feel like compared to the current MGS, the 1st-year MGS was more pure, innocent, and trusting in many ways. He seemed to believe in a world where doing good to others surely was the way to go.

1st-year HT, on the other hand, is pretty much a mystery to us. Apart from some flashbacks from his childhood prior to middle school, we haven't seen more of his past. Even his first introduction in the comic was a bit awkward the way he just suddenly popped up and it wasn’t really clear what his relationship with JY and ZZX was exactly. 

What was the mindset of 1st-year HT? Had he already made up his mind that he wouldn't become like his brother and father? Was he already living alone or still with his family? Was Mr. He already abroad or still in China?

I think HT’s living situation is probably what would give us the most hints about whatever mindset he might have. But the only thing we really have to go on is when MGS came to visit him for the first time (ch. 144):

Again, this doesn't give us much. It’s impossible to say for sure if HT was already living by himself as a 1st-year student, but somehow I doubt that. Despite everything, 12-13 is still mighty young to be living by himself. And I have a feeling based on the way HC and Mr. He seem to put importance on family sticking together, they probably didn't let HT go live alone without a long fight and debate. So, I think it’s very likely HT was still living at home as a 1st-year. Most probably at his brother’s place that seems like their primary home before Mr. He went abroad?

Based on that, I think HT might have not made up his mind on becoming a savior/hero of sorts yet. At least not in so many words. Home was probably an unpleasant and stressful place for him, and he would rather spend time elsewhere. When at home, he probably spent a lot of time in his room or roaming the nature surrounding them. Home was somewhere where he had to keep his guard up and be constantly prepared for whatever. He was exposed to and (in)directly involved in things that he disapproved of and most probably scared him. At school, he excelled in all the subjects. In some ways, studying was an out for him even though getting good grades was also expected of him. He was always surrounded by a lot of people at school and was very popular, but no one really knew him outside of school. He didn’t open up about himself.

So, that’s how I see the characters set up for the new scenario.

Mo Guan Shan in distress

Now, finally to the beginning of it all. To help us all get in the right mood, I hope you will excuse my very serious 3AM edits (ch. 319):

A crazy homeless man was attacking an innocent, pure MGS. His young life was flashing before his eyes. The man on top of him is too heavy. The grip around his throat too strong. It’s getting harder and harder to breathe, and black spots are dancing at the edge of his vision.

Just as MGS is about to pass out, something flashes at the corner of his eyes but it’s hard to tell in the dimness of the alleyway. There is a loud, heavy thud, and the grip around MGS’s throat slacks. The man is being flung off him and slumps on the wet pavement. MGS scrambles to his knees, coughing and gasping for breath. The cool rainy air tastes sweet rushing down his burning throat.

A bit out of it, he glances up and sees a dark-haired boy - about his age - who’s holding a heavy liquor bottle. The sharp edges of the bottle’s bottom are smeared with crimson. The sight of blood dripping to the ground makes MGS’s stomach turn a little. He makes the mistake of looking at the limp homeless man lying in a puddle and almost throws up at the spreading blotch of dark red on the back of the man’s head. He starts to tremble when he realizes how close to being killed he had just come.

I would picture that HT is shaken by what he had done, too. Picking up the bottle had been like an instinct to him. He had swung it as hard as he could, not really thinking the consequences. Now, though, a small panic monster in his head whispers that he had probably killed someone.

But the panic monster doesn't get very far in its fear-mongering until HT’s training kicks in. Still squeezing the neck of the heavy bottle, he creeps to the crazy man, ready to bounce if he decides to go for a second round. Even in the heavy rain, he can smell the thick odor of homelessness and alcoholism. He doesn't really want to touch the man but reaches to check for a pulse. It’s there, but otherwise the man is out cold.

Only then he really pays attention to the scrawny red-haired boy still on his knees. He looks at HT wide-eyed, shaking, and obviously in shock. There are red prints already forming around his throat where the man had strangled him.

“Is - ,” the redhead says shakily, his voice a bit hoarse, “is he de - did he - “

“He’s still breathing.”

“Am-ambulance,” the boy says, now more anxiously and looking around, “we need an ambulance. Police! Someone!”

HT doesn't reply but flips out his phone. The boy keeps glancing at him as he gets a hold of HC on the other end and explains the situation. He frowns when it doesn't sound like a 911 call to him.

“Who was that?”

“My brother. He knows what to do.”

Well, HT knew what to do, too, but he wasn’t in the position to make those things happen. Not yet, at least. But he knew.

HT asks where MGS lives and offers to walk him the rest of the way. MGS seems confused about should they just leave the man and not wait for his brother. HT assures him that his brother will come any minute now. It’s all under control. The words kind of come out of his mouth without him even realizing what he’s saying. He would like to think it’s the shock but knows it’s his training. It’s the protocol. When you follow certain steps, there is no need to panic.

And yet his hands are trembling when he finally puts the bottle down. Oh, well. He would fake till he made it.

On their way to MGS’s home, MGS is quiet and just clutches his backpack against his front. HT tilts the umbrella to cover MGS more, seeing how he is shaking from cold and shock.

HT tries to make idle conversation. He asks MGS’s name, where he goes to school, what was he doing out in the rain, is there anyone at home, and maybe mentions that he’s seen MGS around the school. Little by little the atmosphere starts to loosen and the tightness in MGS’s voice eases up. Talking also relaxes HT.

At MGS’s house, MGS looks at HT and asks if he wants to come inside to dry up. He’s frowning a little and seems worried. HT looks at him a bit dumbfounded and then bursts out a laugh.

“You really are quite something,” he says at MGS’s confused face. “You just survived all that and you’re already inviting a stranger to your home. Are you an idiot?”

MGS’s face darkens, and he says that if HT would rather walk back in soaked clothes, then it’s his business. He looks hurt and embarrassed. The attitude makes HT smile a little, though, and he tousles the wet red hair.

“I’ll see you around,” he says and leaves with a little wave over his shoulder.

He makes a mental note to keep an eye out for a certain red hair at school from now on.

Having a friend in each other

They start running into each other at school more. (Well, HT started rotating towards MGS.) Turns out MGS has seen him around school, too. He says that HT seems popular and the girls often talk about him in class. He seems a bit confused as to why HT is seeking out his company when he has so many other friends.

MGS is a bit awkward around him, but HT finds it endearing. He’s quick to rise to teasing baits and shows his emotions quite a lot if you knew where to look. To HT, he seemed like a pure-hearted kid. Probably too pure-hearted for his own good. He was a bit stiff at first, but with some coaxing, you could get him to talk. HT liked listening to him talk the most.

The more they got to know each other, the more HT found himself hanging onto MGS’s company. When school days ended, he lingered at the crossroads where their paths parted. He made up excuses to walk MGS home or to his part-time jobs. (He thought MGS was amazing for working already, but MGS just shrugged.) Finally, walking MGS home continued to get himself invited inside for homework, snacks, some games, dinner, staying the night on Fridays.

HT soaked in all the sense of home he could get at MGS’s place. The messy pile of shoes in the entryway. The scribbled notes on the fridge door. The home-cooking. The older models of video games MGS had. The smell of cheap detergent on the sheets when he was sleeping on the floor of MGS’s small room.

Mrs. Mo was a bit surprised by his son’s unexpected friend at first but quickly adopted HT as a natural part of the household. She was more at peace knowing that MGS had some company after school when she had to work late. Sometimes she listened to the boys talk (read: HT teasing and MGS bickering) in MGS’s room. It felt like this new friend had bought some of MGS’s lost childhood back to her son’s voice.

The tighter they became, the more they naturally learned about each other. The topic of family was sore for both of them and something they didn't talk about often. MGS often got heated when the talk circulated to his father. Heated in a way that HT didn't find cute. He got angry and bitter. Usually, HT let him vent through it quietly. But MGS didn't hide things as such even though he didn't really like to talk about some of them. Instead, he was convinced and would stand his ground vehemently.

HT, on the other hand, was more evasive. He didn't want to put MGS in a position where he would know too much. MGS seemed impressed by HT’s brother. He sounded a bit jealous. HT also avoided saying much because he was ashamed. Here he was sitting in this home of good, decent people and enjoying their hospitality while he really was part of the bad guys in the world. His people were the ones who MGS hated so much when he talked about his father’s imprisonment.

But then something happened within HT’s world. Something that shocked him and scared him and gave him a traumatic experience. One day at school, he was visibly on edge and distracted. He looked increasingly tired. He snapped at MGS which he very rarely did. When at the end of the day, MGS asked if he wanted to come over (it was Friday), he was a bit relieved but also worried when HT said no. HT never said no to that.

That night Mrs. Mo had the late-night shift, so MGS was alone when HT suddenly showed up with a duffel bag. He looked horrible. There was an angry red mark on his cheek and a trickle/smear of dried up blood on the corner of his mouth. His eyes were red-rimmed. He hung his head low, asking MGS if he could stay the night after all.

MGS told him to take a bath. He heated up the leftover rice-noodle soup he had had for dinner. HT looked a bit lost coming out of the bath. MGS told him to take a seat and served the food. Quietly and slowly, being careful of his cut lip, HT slurped the soup. He wouldn’t meet MGS’s eyes.

MGS wanted to ask what the hell was going on but decided against it every time the questions danced on his tongue. He was curious but he had never seen HT like this. He looked darker. At some points of the night, MGS felt like he couldn't really recognize him at all.

MGS made HT a bed on the floor the usual way. HT just turned his back to him and hummed in return when MGS said good night. After a while, MGS drifted off but woke up to strange noises. It sounded like heavy breathing. Not panting exactly but more like...gasping for breath. He snapped the lights on and found HT sitting on his makeshift bed. His eyes were wide, and it looked like he was breathing hard but couldn't breathe at the same time.

Luckily MGS had been around enough hyperventilation to know what it looked like. He hurried to find a paper bag from the kitchen, cursing that the damn things were everywhere but seemed to vanish when you really needed them. He helped HT press the opening of the bag tightly against his gaping mouth. At first, it looked like HT got more panicked, but MGS kept pressing the bag firmly.

Little by little, HT’s breathing calmed down and the wild look in his eyes faded. Finally, he pushed MGS’s hands away and tried to go for a grin and joke how this was pretty lame of him but he couldn't quite work his charm. A bit lost, MGS wondered what to do. Then he asked if HT wanted to read some comics till they got sleepy again. HT didn't want to read but asked if MGS would read. And keep the lights on. And like that - while MGS was glancing at panels of high-school-level humor - HT told him about having a fight with his father, talking back to him, knowing when he had pushed over the limit, and the next thing his head had been ringing.

MGS didn't know which freaked him out more: the story, the flatness of HT’s voice, or when his voice started to get thick and he pressed his face tight against the pillow. MGS hesitated if he should comfort HT somehow but it all felt too awkward. So, he just listened and hummed whenever there was s suitable pause. Eventually, HT fell silent and after a while, MGS noticed he had fallen asleep. He fixed the blanket over HT’s shoulders, climbed to his own bed, and left the lights on.

HT stayed the weekend, but they didn't really talk about that night afterwards. The next morning, HT seemed more to himself, smirking and teasing, gobbling the breakfast MGS made them. Mrs. Mo looked at HT a bit funny when she came home from her shift but didn't say anything. She just gave the boys a free night from doing the dishes.

Overall, they got to know each other better than anyone else at school. HT knew about MGS’s excitable, softer, and adorable side. He was a good kid who worked hard and around whom HT felt at ease, though silently guilty. MGS knew the HT that wasn’t the kind of charmer everyone at school saw him as. Despite being so popular, he seemed strangely lonely to MGS. He guessed HT had some kind of darker side that he didn't want to talk about and tried to hide. MGS doubted anyone had seen HT like that other night. It seemed his family was mixed up in some shady business, and MGS didn't quite know how to feel about that.

The angst of unrequited love?

You mentioned if this version of Tianshan would be closer to Zhanyi, and I think that could be possible. I doubt they would be that kind of softer, lovey-dovey dynamic, but my nose kind of sniffed a possibility for a similar unrequited love as JY had.

HT could start gaining romantic feelings for MGS somewhere along the way. But in my head, he would hide his feelings much the same way he does/did in the canon version, just take it to a more obvious level. Mask his feelings with jokes and double meanings. Make him kind of push but then pull back as if unsure.

His feelings for MGS would be laced with believing he doesn’t deserve to be loved by someone like MGS. He’s one of the bad guys. MGS is one of the good ones, and his family has been hurt by people like HT enough. And yet HT craves for what he has with MGS and nurses his unrequited love. It gives him both pain and comfort.

But he didn't want to confess. For one, he wasn’t sure where MGS stood on things like love. He seemed awkward around girls and often ended up scaring them off by his glare and harsh tone. The topic of romance hadn't really come up, or if it had, MGS usually remained silent. One time HT had decided to roll the dice and brought up jerking off. MGS had gone beet-red and stammered that what the hell was HT talking about. For a moment, HT had toyed with the idea of pushing for more but decided against it and brushed the topic off as a joke. MGS had looked damn cute, though.

Secondly, and more importantly, HT didn't think he was worthy of MGS the way he was now. He needed to do better, he wanted to do better. He needed to make decisions instead of slinking around like a kicked puppy. He needed a vision for himself and then pursue it. So, he decided to become someone better for MGS. Someone strong and good and reliable. His own man. The first step was him making HC talk their father into letting HT live by himself. The school was a good enough excuse.

At the same time, they grew a bit apart. MGS got older and took on more part-time jobs. HT concentrated on working on himself. He lost sight of MGS for a while, and it turned out things had gone worse for him. As HT was busy becoming a better man, MGS had grown more bitter and angry. It wasn’t until HT learned that MGS had agreed to get expelled from school that he woke up to what direction MGS had drifted to. On HT’s watch, too.

They had a big argument about the deal. They had often bickered in the past but never really had a serious fight. HT was angry MGS was knowingly mixing up with people SL even though they were obviously taking advantage of him and basically making him write them a blank check. MGS fired back that how could HT understand anything since HT was people like SL. That cut deep for HT, and it was the first time he wanted to slap MGS. Instead, they got their separate ways, brooding and glaring.

The next time HT saw MGS’s face, he knew something had gone horribly wrong. He heard that MGS was accused of assaulting some girl. Furious, he went to confront MGS about how stupid he had been, but all the anger died when he saw how shaken MGS was. He looked completely lost and horrified. All he seemed able to worry about was “they are going to tell my mother”. HT hugged him tight and said that everything was going to be fine. He will sort this out, don’t worry.

He fought with SL and got HC involved, too. HC took care of the deal, but HT never told MGS how exactly it had happened. In the same way he had never told him that the homeless man had been dead by the time HC’s crew had gotten to the alleyway. Instead, HT shoved the guilt deeper where it fueled his drive to become a better man.

But HT decided one thing after that fiasco. He wouldn’t let MGS drift away anymore. He wouldn’t get so wrapped up in his own vision that he lost sight of what mattered the most.

That is I guess where this AU version kind of leaves off and connects to the canon story? This version of Tianshan would have their friendship established first, and HT’s romantic feelings would come later. They would be more unrequited in a similar angsty way as JY’s. The trust between would have also been established through their growing friendship. I feel like there would be tons of things that could be added to this, especially ending-wise, but...yeah, something like this maybe?

Thank you for your wonderfully interesting question, dear anon! How do you vision their relationship would have developed?

[fiction-in-my-blood]

Obey Me! Brothers W/ Mentally Slow MC HC

~Longer than necessary A/N ahead so, if you don’t care, you don’t need to read it, just sharing stuff about myself to random strangers on the internet lol.~

So... I’m slow. Like, my brain just does not computer things quick enough a majority of the time? I’m not a great conversationalist because of it, I have a pretty bad stammer, I mix up names even though they don’t sound at all the same, and I get too excited when I do know something that when I try to say it its just a jumble of words that don’t make sense and I tell my friends to just forget about it because I know I won’t be able to say the right words lol. Luckily I have great friends and they give me the time to rethink my sentence so I can say what I want to say. Oh, and I daydream to the point I never dream in my sleep haha. So, this is basically an HC for me lol. That being said, I’m pulling from mostly my own experiences here, so I’m sorry if they sound a lil depressy haha. 

And I would like to say, if anyone can relate, there’s literally nothing wrong with you!!! (Cannot stress this enough). We just have our fun lil quirks.

~Also, I’m so sorry for missing out on Belphie. I love him somuch but I could not think of a scenario for him. If I do in the future I’ll edit or reupload idk.~

~Oh, and @theshove , I finally posted again ;), although I’m sure it’s not gonna be as spicy as you’d like.~

Warnings: Descriptive explanation of a panic attack in Mammon’s HC, reference to bullying in Satan’s

~~~~~~

Lucifer:

At first, he was secretly pretty frustrated.

He thought it was a confidence issue, he heard that was a common thing in human youth, to not believe in yourself and have anxiety about the way you looked, spoke, sounded. 

You would often be having conversations with his brothers, debating a subject that Lucifer took no interest in, and you would be about to put in your input when a stream of nonsense passed your lips.

“Y’know what, nevermind.” Was a frequent phrase that left your lips when you did slip up, sighing to yourself as you thought about how ridiculous you just sounded. 

Lucifer would ensure none of the brothers, or Solomon, ever teased you about your mistakes.

Although, it was mortifying everytime you accidentally called him Levi, and vice versa. 

It was hard enough when you were still getting to know the brothers, but even on a date with the eldest, Levi just seemed like an easier word to say in the moment. It led to a few upsetting misunderstandings and some pretty severe punches to Lucifer’s pride.

Once you two got closer, you explained you mixed up your words because you used to be practically mute.

You weren’t a particularly extroverted child, nor were you interested in much, so you hardly spoke at all. You never got the practice you needed to familiarise yourself with words. It was Devildom that really brought them out of you.

After you did share that with him, he thrived off hearing your voice, even when it took a solid ten seconds to contemplate what you needed to say, even stretching your mouth muscles before you started just in case you stumbled again.

Of course, you made your mistakes now and again, got stuck on a word, laughing at how ridiculous you sounded saying ‘in’ several times in a row when you were trying to argue over tonight’s dinner, but Lucifer never cracked a joke like you did about yourself. 

He smiled, happy that you didn’t let this impact your personality and recovered quickly and, gradually, at snail's pace it felt like at the time, you could hold a conversation, a bright smile on your face when you were able to pull it off.

“Lucifer, I didn’t stutter this time!”

“Well done, MC, shall I give you a reward?”

Mammon:

“Useless human, can’t even talk, huh?” 

Trying to act like the big tough guy he played himself out to be didn’t fare well when you first arrived in Devildom, his brothers practically beat him up every other day for it.

The first time you laid your eyes upon a demon and they explained you would be a transfer student, it took you a few minutes of silence to understand what was actually going on.

It wasn’t because this wasn’t an extraordinary situation, you were an avid reader of fantasy novels and had waited for the day to be transported away from your boring, mundane life, but you just couldn’t compute verbal speech.

In potion class, you had to ask the teacher to write down the ingredients and the quantities because you couldn’t picture the words themselves, so you couldn’t understand what the potion was actually meant to do.

“What’re you writing it all down for?”

“It’s easier for me to listen when I can read what they’re saying. I guess it’s because my hearing’s crap?” 

But your hearing wasn’t all that bad, it was just easier to explain it that way than explaining how transcriptions help you listen.

Sometimes, in the hallways of RAD, the bustling students and whispering gossiping of you, a human, making a pact with Mammon? Apparently it was hilarious to everyone else.

But it wasn’t what the demons were saying, it was how loud they were saying it. 

It was just too many noises at once, you couldn’t decipher the surround-sound mumbling and it stressed you out, made you uncomfortable, and gave you that all too familiar feeling of a panic attack due to the sensory overload. 

Mammon realised your discomfort as tears grew in your eyes and your breathing quickened and, for a moment, he was moving to beat up every single devil that ever even mentioned the word ‘human’.

“Ma-Mammon!” Your frail voice and a tug on his sleeve pulled him back to Devildom and he turned back around to you, watching as you clenched your eyes shut, trying to ignore the buzzing that continued to rattle your brain. 

“Can you take me some place quiet?”

From then on, you would often spend your lunch breaks in a quiet classroom away from the majority of students. It was a good place for you to wind down, especially, when you two were close enough, Mammon would hug you closely, helping the panic in your heart when you did have a panic attack due to all the noises.

You didn’t have them as much now, the noise cancelling headphones he had bought you brought solace as you walked from classroom to classroom.

In class, he would try his best to act as scribe when you were running behind, but he did a terrible job. His handwriting was abysmal, only now did he appreciate how quickly you had to write to keep up with the lessons. 

You appreciate the sentiment all the same, placing a quick kiss on his cheek- you were dating at this point- and explained that he didn’t have to do that for you, you could just get a copy of the teacher’s notes after class.

Now he could never feel more guilty about picking on you when you first got to Devildom.

“Hey, Mamo?”

“Yeah, MC?”

“Thanks for not getting angry at me.”

Leviathan:

You were pretty silent, never really talking unless you were spoken to directly.

Yet, you still had that dumb, normie trap of cute smile on your face when you listened to everyone ranting and raving. 

When you did speak, it was quiet, almost a whisper.

Thank Diavolo for the demon’s enhanced hearing because, if they didn’t, they would be constantly asking you to speak up.

It wasn’t because you didn’t like your voice or you thought you were too loud otherwise, it was just because you couldn’t really be bothered to be louder.

You were content with just listening, watching everyone have a vivid conversation about the latest trouble Mammon had gotten into or Satan raving about the last Detective show you needed to watch. 

You never had any questions to ask in class, and the ones you did have would usually be asked by another student before you got the chance to even raise your hand. You weren’t a genius, just a good listener.

Levi understood, somewhat. Why would you want to talk to his normie brothers? They had nothing interesting to say.

Most of the time he suspected you just weren’t listening to them. 

But, it’s when you were alone together in his room as he told you about the latest anime he was enjoying, he got annoyed.

“Are you even listening to me? I don’t even know why I try. You don’t deserve Henry!”

“I was listening. You were explaining how you think the next season of TSL is going to go. I’ll admit, the Lord of Shadow saving that servant from the Lord of Corruption seems a little far fetched, but it’d be interesting to watch.” 

That had possibly been the longest group of sentences he had ever heard you string together at once. And they were so soft, no hint of trepidation from his accusation.

Eyes wide in embarrassment for misreading the situation, and getting so aggressive about it, Leviathan looked away.

“I’m sorry, I know I seem really dismissive all the time. I just enjoy listening to you talk about your passions.”

The bright smile on your face calmed him down, as it usually did, and, every so often, you would make your comments about the shows you know only because of him. He was very good at explaining plot lines. Even when you had never seen the show, you felt like you had.

You would mainly just talk to Levi from then on, getting to the point where you could express your own hobbies without him judging you as a normie and more as a friend.

Well, not a friend, more than that, much more, but a friend would have to do for now.

The first time you strike up a conversation with him, calling his name from down the hallway of the house you’re staying in as he walks with Asmodeus, Mammon and Beelzebub is possibly the greatest day of Levi’s life.

“Lefty.” You accidentally pronounce his name wrong, like you sometimes do with “Bell” and “Ashmo”.

You didn’t have any problems with saying their names normally, but when you were tired, all hopes of communicating like a normal human being went out the window.

Your words were a low mumble, but they were something Levi had learnt to understand fluently from your late night gaming sessions that would usually end in ruin when your tired brain drastically slowed your reflexes.

“I heard it was your 200,000th bicentennial birthday coming up, so I asked one of my friends to commission this for you.”

Only Diavolo knows how you managed to pronounce centennial at this time of night, but you did it, handing him a paper-wrapped, flat square, a light blush dusting both your cheeks. 

Asmo made a flirty, teasing comment about how close you two seemed and how, now, Levi was the lucky one.

Mammon got jealous, demanding that he wanted a birthday present, even though his milestone couple centuries had literally been a couple centuries ago.

Beel’s stomach grumbled, but he was a little curious about what you could have possibly gifted Levi, and how many words you just said as loud as they would usually be, which was wildly out of character for you.

“It’s the Lord of Shadow and the servant.” Levi gasped upon seeing the magnificent drawing your friend had made for you, which you insisted on paying for, and never had Levi been so jealous to have a friend like that. A friend with such talent. 

“You were right, he did save her.” You smiled, eyes twinkling at the positive reaction Levithan had made. 

You had seen the similarities in the characters with you and the demon. The servant was said to have had their voice stolen as a child, long before they and the Lord of Shadow had met. And it was obvious to you the similarities the anime brothers had with the demon brothers, but you wouldn’t dare tell Levi that. You were worried he’d get shy and call you a normie again.

So that statement you made was a form of confession to Levi. Something you hoped he would understand.

“You watched the season without me?! How did you even get the DVD? It’s not even out yet!”

Yeah, no such luck there.

“Levi, you know what isn’t fair?”

“What could possibly be unfair for you in this situation?”

“That you aren’t as good a listener as I am.”

Satan:

You were an avid texter, just like Satan. 

Your fingers moved so quickly against the screen of your D.D.D or the keyboard of a computer, it was amazing someone could see them. 

And you were smart. On electronics, you could keep up conversations on the latest book you were reading and discuss the detective shows you and he liked to watch together.

It was only when you spoke in person did your conversations so down.

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” You cried out after a particularly long and troublesome stutter, mainly annoyed because it was an easy word but all the b’s tied your tongue like a tongue twister. Ironically, you felt like you were blubbering like an idiot.

Your stammer used to be worse, far worse. So bad you couldn’t even tell your parents anything without getting angry at yourself, but you got the speech therapy and learnt to just take it slow when you got eager. 

Everytime you see Satan, you want to be able to match his intellect and speed. You felt almost competitive. 

But it would hardly ever work out in your favour, your ‘S’s coming out like you were trying to start an old engine and ‘B’s and ‘D’s being switched in for each other like you were a toddler.

You spoke before you thought of what you were going to say, hoping the words would just float out of my mouth like everyone else’s did.

But no. Not for you. 

You had to carefully plan each sentence, thinking about every conversation you had so you could make a pre-made answer just so you wouldn’t look like a fool taking so long to speak.

You were ashamed most of the time, bullied for your impediment as a child and even in your teen years by people you told yourself were your friends but really weren’t when they called you teasing nicknames instead of your given one after you had asked them several times to use it. 

They were the main reason you still didn’t have the confidence to speak well now.

“Hey, take it easy. We’re not in a rush.” 

Satan would always be nice, politely giving you the time you needed to take a breather, calm down, and start over again, still blushing from your last stuttering episode.

“Why don’t you call me an idiot?”

A lot of questions similar to these, the only difference- the name you would be called, passed your lips sometimes, when there was a lull in your time together. 

You were used to people making fun, telling you to just shut up already so they didn’t have to hear your stupidity anymore.

“You’re not stupid. I care about what you have to say.”

Satan was always so serious everytime he answered a variation of your question, showing you he really cared. 

You blushed, your mind blank and it would take a couple minutes after that initial compliment for you to reboot.

It was true, though. 

Satan enjoyed watching your lips move and the sound of your voice as you two discussed who the killer in his detective show could be.

You both always came to the same conclusion before the episode ended.

Because most of your conversations happened through text, he found he missed your tone and expressive face when you got really into a subject.

He didn’t care if you stuttered, it was far better than just watching words flash across a screen, as most of your conversations went, on his D.D.D

Although, he did care that you got so angry with yourself. 

Being the Avatar of Wrath, he understood how easy it was to give into frustration and just want to hit something every time you made a mistake, he had done that many times in his younger years, and it wasn’t healthy.

It wasn’t healthy to be ashamed of a mere stumble or get mad at yourself for it, you never learnt that way.

One night, laying in his bed, platonically, you shared your reasoning behind getting so mad everytime you stuttered. 

You had seen Satan’s demon-form once before, but never had you seen it arise so quickly and so fiercely. 

You had been down all day and he had brought you to his room so you could feel comfortable enough to talk to him, but this fearful man, no, creature before you only put you more on edge.

But he continued to hold you.

He continued to wrap his arms around you from behind, spooning your body, trying his best not to fly out of hell right now and hunt down those who had picked on and teased you for all those years for something you couldn’t even help.

To think the reason you hated something he found so endearing was because some mere humans had made you think your excitement to communicate with people was something wrong?

“I don’t think this exchange program is going to work out.”

“Wh...Why?” You tried your hardest now to sound strong, sighing to yourself when you repeated the letters.

“Because I won’t be able to hold back if I have free access to the human world. What kind of assholes do that?”

“Teenage assholes.”

Asmodeus:

What a cute little airhead.

From the moment he first met you, Asmo loved the clueless looks on your face as you sifted through the information you were being given, seconds behind the punch everyone else could get to. 

You were slow, but you were meticulous, combing through every piece of information you could to give the correct response.

You were actually pretty smart because of that fact, studying so hard on everything you did so you weren’t embarrassed by being wrong.

And you weren’t too big with the whole ‘social cues’ thing either, mistaking Satan’s sarcasm for truth and Leviathan’s anger for genuine, relationship-ruining upset, desperately trying to fix the situation so that no one would get hurt.

You were selfless in the strangest of ways, too, opting to go without something you actually, really needed before asking someone for help. 

Once, you had tried ordering shower gel off of Akuzon, but, instead, ordered Shaitan Gell, a special ingredient often used by witches to summon demons. 

You had wondered why it was so expensive, but thought that maybe the Devildom economy wasn’t doing so well right now.

(It wasn’t your money you were using, so what the hell?)

It was even more confusing when it smelled a little off, but demons had strange tastes. Beelzebub literally ate brains and bat wings on the daily.

When Diavolo showed up in your shower the first time you used the oddly thick, black liquid, you just cocked your head, too weird to be embarrassed. Thinking this was a regular occurance in Devildom, you gave the prince a hearty hello and asked him, if he needed anything, could he please wait outside so you could get dressed first.

The news spread like wildfire, especially when Diavolo randomly vanished from a meeting with Lucifer. 

When everyone did find out, as Lucifer was reprimanding you for using such a relic in that way, they teased you endlessly, some offering you their own makes of the potion so you might accidentally summon them in the same way.

Every flirty or sexual remark Asmo made went right over your head, thinking that with every personal question he asked was just asked to make conversation and not genuine interest on his part.

“Do you have a partner?”

“Well, no, I don’t really compete in dance competitions or anything.”

“What positions do you usually go for?”

“I don’t play many sports, but if I had to pick, I’d say a pitcher in baseball. I have a pretty mean throw!”

It actually became a little bewildering how oblivious you were to all of his advances, thinking every time he draped himself over you he was cold and you offered him your jumper.

He took them everytime, so you were starting to run low. He tended to hoard them in his room, savouring the sweet scent of the body wash he had bought for you after the Shaitan incident.

“Asmo, can I get my hoodie back?”

You called through his closed door at some point after returning from school in the dead of winter, shivering in the sweat pants and long sleeved top you already had on.

You were generous, you didn’t think you personally were, but all the brothers knew you would give anyone anything if they asked for it. 

That’s why it wasn’t that ridiculous when Asmo had all of your jackets. Hoodies from years ago, sweaters you bought just to treat yourself because they were so soft, and even this jumper you got from your ex-boyfriend in high school, something you meant to give back but never managed to. You forgot every time you went to meet him with that exact intent the reason for seeing him.

It didn’t remind you of him, he barely wore it before you practically stole it, but it did make Asmo’s heart skip a beat at the ‘sweater-paws’ you got from the much-too-long sleeves. 

Following a clattering from what sounded like trash cans, followed by a comical shriek of a cat, the door flew open to a slightly disheveled Asmodeus, fabric clutched in his hand as he stood topless before you.

“Oh, sorry, Asmo. I didn’t mean to disturb you. I’m just so cold.”

You laughed to show you weren’t upset with him as you rubbed your arms, bouncing on the balls of your feets to get your blood moving enough to create some heat. 

How could all these devils, avatars of the seven deadly sins, not have heating?

“Let me warm you up, MC!”

Without even stopping to hear your answer, but he knew you’d say yes, no matter what, Asmo pulled you in by the wrist, immediately wrapping his bare arms around you the moment the door was closed.

He was warm and you were comfortable with him, he showed you curiosity and care, so you eased into that embrace, thinking it a friendly gesture as a thank you for using your clothes all the time.

When you felt a slight nibble on your ear, you started to freak out a little.

You stuttered out an inquiry as to what he was doing, shyly pushing away as he drew back with his flirtatious smirk.

“I’ve made it so obvious for so long, MC. I really like you.”

Asmo cooed back, prodding your puffed out cheek with the tip of his tongue as you tilted your head to the side the same way you did every time someone told you something new. 

Knowing you would be taking a moment to compute the information, Asmo used this chance to bury his face in the crook of your neck.

“I really like you too, Asmo.” 

The realisation came pretty suddenly. 

You had never put much thought into it.

Sure, he was the Avatar of Lust, he could just be saying this so he could express his temporary desires, but that was how you felt. You weren’t one for holding back, you were always scared of forgetting the topics of your thoughts if you didn’t say them aloud, so you just went for it.

Beelzebub:

Does this person even have bones?!

Like, seriously, your tripping over your feet like they’re not even attached to your body.

Rolling your ankle, walking off in directions that definitely don’t lead to where you intend on going, skipping right passed the class you’re meant to be attending.

The amount of times you’ve gotten lost in both the House of Lamentation and RAD is honestly worrying. 

Your sense of direction? What even is a map because it seems like you’ve never even heard of the concept of signs or specific routes you need to take to get to your bedroom.

To help with your impossibly slow way of getting a lay of the land in your new dorm, you would often take midnight strolls.

Often getting lost, which is how you found Belphegor up in the attic, even when you had stayed on the same floor.

That’s how you and Beel got so close. 

Because of the delectable scents coming from the kitchen, you would often find him having his late night snacks. 

He would invite you to stay, at first only because Lucifer had instructed him to walk you back to your room every time he found you aimlessly wandering the house late at night. 

“Is your ankle okay?” He would ask through a mouthful of food, but somehow you were still able to understand him.

Blushing, you looked down as your injury that was caused earlier in the day. You had stepped weird on the side of your foot- something that would usually happen and something you would usually be able to walk away from- but this time it was on the tall spiral stairs of the school you were still getting to know, sending you tumbling down flights and flights of steps. 

It was a wonder you were human, because even Solomon was shocked you survived that. 

“Y-Yeah, just a little red,” was an understatement.

You’re ankle killed. It was only a little swollen thanks to the spell your sorcerer friend used on you, but that didn’t help the sprain of your tendons. It was slightly bruised, covered by your loosest, most comfortable socks.

“Are you embarrassed?” Beel pointed out your bashful blush and you looked back up. He had seen your obvious hobble as you made your way to his side, but didn’t want to mention it in case you were feeling fragile about the subject.

“It just gives me flashbacks, is all.”

Oh? 

Memories from MC’s past?

Yes, Beel would very much like to hear about that. 

Not to tease or bribe you with, he was genuinely curious about your little human life. Not that you could tell, but he had never been so curious about another being like that. 

“Oh, god, well, I guess I trust you.” You joked, blushing harder as you laughed about the memory that plagues your thoughts. 

One time, in high school, you were walking out of the cantine when you tripped over literally nothing, throwing your bottle of water across the school yard like you needed to save it from your fall. It landed in the middle of a group of older students. 

The amount of laughs you got from that. The teacher that came up to you to ask if you were okay. The cut that occured on your knee. 

(Yes, this is a personal story. Yes, I have ptsd every time I pick up a plastic bottle of water)

Oh, it was like you were reliving the horror right there and then.

“It was mortifying! My friends still bring it up. To. this. day.” You sulk, resting your forehead on the table to hide the deep red on your face. 

“Did it hurt?” The blunt question came as a shock, that’s for sure, and you no longer felt unbearably hot when you looked up to see him. There was little look of amusement except for a kind-hearted smile. 

“W-Well, not as much as this other time...” 

You found yourself telling him all of your most embarrassing tales, seeking for that one story that would make him laugh the way everyone else would laugh at you. 

He didn’t. At all. It was actually a little worrying that he found none of your stories funny. 

Truthfully, he did find the want to chuckle at a few of them, but he didn’t want to betray your trust by laughing at such ‘precious’ memories for you. 

[quarantined-with-bucky]

Shopping

Bodyguard!Bucky x Reader

Request: Hi! May I ask for a hc or scenario in wich Bucky falls for the reader who has a "spoiled brat" stereotype...u know? Like a Regina George from Mean Girls type of attitude, Maybe the reader is the daughter of someone important who Bucky needs to protect idk I thought it could be quite fun, anyway...loved your writing so much in "Dichotomy" ❤

Words: ~ 4,500

Summary: Bucky’s paid to be your bodyguard and you’re, well, kind of a bitch.

Warnings: None! For once ;)

...

There is three things men want in life.

1.     They want to see if they can fuck you.

2.     They want to see if they can fuck you over.

3.     They want to get you out the fucking picture.

That was simply a fact of life. It was especially accurate in the world you grew up in: the world of powerful men, fast cars, vast mansions, and extravagant wardrobes. There was something about everyone’s cut-throat attitude that also seemed to drag along these luxuries. It was all about showing off: who had the most expensive car, whose house was bigger – whose wife was hotter.

This is the climate you grew up in: constant competition, envious friends, malicious enemies. There was a certain image you were expected to maintain, so you did exactly that. Not only did you have the weight of one day taking over your father’s company on your shoulders, you had the paparazzi stalking your every move. There wasn’t a single moment of peace in your life. You couldn’t go to the mall or the grocery store without at least one picture of you showing up on Daily Mail.

You’d grown up with it and, for the most part, you didn’t have to do things like that anyway. There was always someone to do those menial tasks for you.

Until you moved out of your parents’ house. You finally graduated college; a twenty-something kid finally ready to jump into the world on your own two feet. You were eagerly awaiting your move into your New York City apartment – a swanky two-bedroom on the top floor of a building in Soho.

Everything was going swimmingly well until you had an altercation with paparazzi. It was hard to navigate the narrow streets and sidewalks of the city, and as you were meeting your friend at a restaurant, you found it was a little too easy for the cameramen to push you around on the street. However, while you were thinking more along the lines of a restraining order against them, your father had other ideas.

“No way,” you interrupted, holding your hands up to your father. “That’s not happening.”

He raised his eyebrows at you. “It is happening. Unless you want this to happen again.” He tossed the stack of newspapers onto your dining table, the photo of you on the front page sliding across the table towards you. The title read “(Y/N) Falters – Will She Fumble Daddy’s Company?” You bit the inside of your cheek, the photo immortalized you trying to push past the group of people photographing your every step, the bright flashes causing you to hold your hands in front of your eyes. “This won’t be happening again.”

…

That’s how you met Bucky. At first, it was nice to have him around. He shook your hand once as he introduced himself. It was months before he even said anything else to you. He stood posted up in the doorway of every room you walked into. He wore a smart looking suit ever day, the top few buttons of his shirt undone to show off his tanned muscles underneath.

He walked you to restaurants, taking the lead, keeping the paparazzi at a far distance away from you. He followed you around shopping, carrying your Gucci, Dior, and Balenciaga bags to your car for you. God, it was a dream. What was even dreamier were his eyes. Before anyone approached you to speak with you, he stopped them, turning his head to look at you for your nod of approval before letting them past. And holy fuck those two seconds of fleeting eye contact made you absolutely melt. You almost started scheduling unnecessary appointments into your schedule just so he could face you again for confirmation. You stared back at him as seductively as possible, eyes half lidded, glossy, staring back at him and tilting your head in the slightest nod.

That was the only time he ever acknowledged you. That, and when he opened your car door for you. He never said much – if anything – at all. But his presence was so demanding: his shoulders were so broad, his chest constantly puffed out, his jaw clenched, and eyebrows narrowed in challenge. It took every bit of willpower not to jump his bones.

…

You had a certain mentality when it came to work. There was a certain image to be portrayed. You always dressed to the nines: a fitted suit, usually Balmain or Chanel, complete with gold jewelry and tall heels. Your makeup was done every day: a neutral pallet, something that unsuspecting peers would assume to be natural. Your hair was always perfectly in place: either cascading smoothly down your back or pinned neatly into a bun. Not only were you running the company, but you were also the face of the company.

You walked around with your head held high, shoulders back, and with determination in your step. People watched you as you walked down the hallway. Maybe some in admiration, others envy, even a few with desire. You always heard their whispers, though.  

Bucky walked in-toe with you always remaining a cool two steps behind you; you could feel his gaze burning into the back of his head. You entered your office, Bucky taking his usual post by the door. You plopped down in your large leather chair, preparing yourself for your meeting.

Your morning got progressively worse as the meetings progressed, people not cooperating, work not being done, no conflicts getting resolved. As you last meeting ended, and the particularly patronizing man left your office, you couldn’t hold back muttering a “fucking prick” as the door shut behind him.

Bucky pinched is lips together, holding back a smirk. You reclined in your chair, watching him regain his poise quickly, eyes not moving from the fixed position on the wall in front of him. “You know, James,” you spoke up, instantly getting his attention. “That was my last meeting today; you can sit, if you’d like.” You gestured to the seating area across the room.

He nodded in thanks, strutting across the room and sitting on the black couch in front of you. All you wanted was to join him on the couch. The things you could do to him on that couch – the things he could do to you on that couch. “You can call me Bucky,” he stated, reclining against the back, legs spreading open a tad bit.

You nodded stiffly and bit your bottom lip, unable to tear your eyes away from his splayed posture. “Bucky,” you whispered, testing his name on your tongue. And, damn, it tasted good.

You snapped yourself out of your fixation, pulling your laptop in front of you, pretending to work as you couldn’t get that image out of your head. The face that you could still see his propped-up figure over the top of your laptop screen; his eyes had not drifted from your person.

…

Your were temporarily blinded, gripping the back of Bucky’s jacket as he pushed through the crowd of people, shoving open the door to the lobby of your apartment. Calling the elevator, he watched as you smoothed down the ends of your hair, trying to rub the light spots out of your eyes as best you could without smudging mascara all over your face. He ushered you in once the doors opened, holding a hand lightly to your waist.

You dropped your back against the shiny elevator walls, crossing your arms over your chest and staring at the reflection on the wall in front of you. You looked tired, makeup wearing off under your eyes, purple circles under your eyes becoming prominent; a few flyaways framed your face, curling and unruly. The doors opened and you pushed your way through before Bucky. You shoved open the apartment door, throwing your purse on the table, viciously kicking of your heels. You heard Bucky shut the door softly and he paused before entering the kitchen behind you.

Today had been effectively one of the worst days of your life. Work was terrible: your day was run with meetings and disrespectful colleagues, bulldozing over all your ideas and suggestions; it rained during lunch, completely ruining the Coach heels you were wearing to attend the business luncheon; afterwards was much worse. You were highlighted in the issue of Forbes Magazine. You’d been waiting for this for months: you’d done multiple interviews, had photoshoots, the whole nine yards. You were excited for the world to see the underlying factors of what made you you; for them to finally recognize not only your past academic achievements, but also all you have accomplished thus far with the company, for them to see that you were capable – qualified – to run this company.

Boy were you hopeful.

You were met, in fact, with quite the opposite.

Waves upon waves of criticism washed upon you after the release. You were met with all kinds of backtalk: everything from you inheriting the company, to being accepted into college because of your dads’ money, to “stick to makeup, honey.” People began commenting on how they thought you walked all over people, how you rarely seemed friendly in the workplace, how you “used men.”

It couldn’t be more the opposite.

While you liked to maintain a certain image and always have a presentable appearance, despite any men or women that sought after you, you’d turned them downs. In fact, you’d never had a boyfriend – let alone any friends.

You worked hard to retain a respectable image. The problem with working and living in a dog-eat-dog world is the sacrifices you had to make to maintain such an image. You couldn’t simply allow people to walk all over you – achieving this took years. You had to speak up in times others would cower, use your voice when there was an issue other did not seem to care about. You had to walk with your head held high and your shoulders back.

Once you obtained dominance in the workplace, you had to conquer the world of love. It could make you gag. You wanted to intimidate the men that once patronized you. You wanted them to want you, fight over you, worship you. But you’d ever let them have you. Nobody could see you vulnerable, nobody could love you, touch you, blackmail you. That’s the way it had to be.

But you couldn’t always be so ruthless. Right now, you leaned against the counter, dropping your hands onto the cold marble surface. It was one of those days like today where everything got the best of you. Everyone tore you apart, you’d spent the last half of the day just reading tweets about yourself.

“She looks like such a bitch.”

“Would it kill her to smile? Not the kind of boss I’d want to work for.”

“My friend worked for her and said she has everyone else do her work for her.”

“Forbes, is this issue recognizing daddy’s money?”

Bucky placing a mug next to you pulled you out of your thoughts. You stared down at the steaming mug, Bucking suddenly speaking up: “maybe if you drank something, you’d feel better.”

You pushed past him, shoving him away from you as you headed to your bedroom. God, all you wanted was to be alone. Did he have to be here every second of the day? All you wanted was silence and he picks this one time to start babying you? You slammed the door shut, the sound echoing throughout the vast apartment. You stripped your nice clothes, opting for a shower and large t-shirt for bed.

Bucky sat in the living room, listening to you shuffle around your bedroom. He finally stood, ready to head home, when he heard the softest sound come from you bedroom. A sniffle. Followed by another.

He leaned against the doorframe, listening to the noises that he’d never heard from you before – hell, he never thought you were capable of that emotion. He weighed his options carefully: go inside and comfort you, it didn’t seem like you had a lot of close friends or even family that checked in on you, you must’ve felt so alone, and everyone attacking you definitely didn’t feel nice; he could leave and let you deal with this on you own – which is probably what you wanted, considering he knew how long it took you to create your façade. However, Bucky could see right through it – he could always see through it. No matter how intimidating and powerful you wanted yourself to be, he and everyone else knew that you were a spoilt brat trying to live up to daddy’s expectations, but only he knew that at your deepest core, you were a tired, lonely, sad little girl, wishing for just one day of invisibility, in which nobody knew who you were, nobody care about you – like you didn’t exist.

…

You and Bucky continued your usual routines from then on, nothing changed. He didn’t talk to you; you didn’t talk to him. He spent his time pushing people out of your way, and you went along pretending nobody existed.

It was two weeks after that when you spoke to him for the third time. You and Bucky were walking from the parking garage to your place. That’s when a masked man came out from behind you and grabbed a hold of your purse. You helped in surprise as he tried to run past you, one hand loosely gripping your Birkin. Before you could even turn to the direction he ran off in, Bucky’s hand hit him square in the jaw. You gasped, holding your hands up to your open mouth as Bucky knelt on top of the man, continuously hitting him and holding him down.

You saw a flash simmer as you saw Bucky’s hand move, holding the other man to the sidewalk. Metal? Did he have a prosthetic arm? When did that happen? And why didn’t you ever notice it before?

In the mixture of bystanders, paparazzi, and doormen, the police quickly pushed through. Bucky was relieved of his post as the man was taken away. The policeman escorted the two of you to the lobby, where he took the information and returned your purse to you.

Eventually, Bucky took you upstairs to your floor. “Are you okay,” he asked, following you through the door.

You nodded, turning around to face him – face his arm. You stared at it, the metal coils formed in the shape of  a perfect hand, winding upwards all the way up to where his shirt sleeve was pushed up past his elbow. It shimmered in the soft lighting, reflecting the moonlight that cascaded in through your windows. He held his hands behind his back, tilting his jaw upwards slightly as he stared you down. Your eyes flitted to his narrow ones; his eyebrows narrowed between pieces of dark hair that fell over his forehead. “Yeah,” you muttered. “Yes,” you clarified, clearing your throat.

“Do you need me to stay with you? Or are you fine for the night?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, shifting your weight from one foot to another. “Stay?” It came out more of a question than you expected.  He nodded, not moving any other muscle. You quickly thought of something to break the silence and pulled your phone from your bag. “Takeout?”

He cracked a smile, nodding again. “Sounds good.”

After calling it in, you shifted away to the kitchen as Bucky sat in the living room. You didn’t know what to do to fill the silence. You’d never talked to him. You fumbled around with a wine bottle, popping it open and taking a long pull straight from the bottle before heading towards Bucky with two glasses. Hopefully some liquid courage would kick in quickly. You poured him a glass, another for yourself, and sat beside him on the plush sofa.

It was quiet. It was awkward.

“Thank you for, y’know,” you murmured over the rim of your wine glass, eyes falling to the red liquid swirling in your glass.

“No problem, it’s my job,” he replied casually. “To protect you.” You nodded; lips pressed tight in a line. You looked around the room, trying to find anything to look at. Your gaze landed on the metal arm propped up on the side of the couch. “You wanna take a picture of it, doll?” He chuckles lightly, tapping his fingers on the fabric of the sofa.

“Oh!” You snapped out of your gaze, jumping slightly on the couch. “Sorry – I didn’t mean to stare, I just – just – ” you stuttered over your words, reaching out slightly towards him.

He smiled, genuinely smiled this time, tongue running over his bottom lip. “It’s okay, (Y/N) – ” your name sounded so good on his lips “ – you can touch it, if you want.” Touch it? Touch what? You nearly started salivating. Then he held his hand out to you, palm facing upwards, fingers outstretched. You held your hand out, brushing his metal palm with the tips of your fingers. He chuckled again, flipping your hand around and holding your own hand in his. He ran his metal fingers over the backs of your knuckles. It was cold, yet so much softer than you expected.

Your eyes flitted up to meet his blue ones, already staring back at you. He licked his lips and leaned ever so slightly towards you. Your breath hitched in the back of your throat as you stared at him with wide eyes and mouth agape. “See, that’s not so bad, right?” He whispered, gaze shifting from your eyes to your lips, tinged red from the wine.

You held your breath, leaning the rest of the way in, shutting your eyes.

Then you hit a brick wall.

A metal wall.

Your eyes snap open to see Bucky’s metal hand gripping your shoulder, holding you in place. “Look, (Y/N) – ” there he goes with your name, again “ – I didn’t mean to send any signals…” he trailed off, dropping his hand and pushing himself up to his feet. Signals? No, of course not. Just holding my hand, staring lustfully into my eyes, and looking at my lips. Not to mention licking his own. You almost rolled your eyes. “I’m sorry,” he sighed.

You did roll your eyes, standing with him. “It’s…” you trailed off. Save face. “Whatever.” You turned away, shuffling to the front door, pulling it open.

He left without another word, but not without stopping to look into your eyes – at least, he tried to, if it hadn’t been for you dropping your whole head, staring blankly at the floor. You slammed the door behind him, nearly nicking his back heel as he stepped into the corridor.

Well, that was perfectly embarrassing. The best way to end such a terrible day. Utter embarrassment. You didn’t know how you were supposed to face him tomorrow.

Sadness turned into anger as you threw his wine glass directly into the sink, watching as the glass shards flew across the countertops. Who did he think he was? That he could act like that and then throw it back in your face? His signals were perfectly clear. In fact, you were haunted by those signals all night.

By the touch of his skin.

By his blue eyes.

…

You didn’t sleep that night. Instead, spent your time getting ready all morning. Hair perfectly set down your back, eyes surrounded by sultry makeup, a ferocious looking contour. You put on your tallest heels, tightest dress, and shiniest jewelry.

You looked ravenous.

Bucky knocked on your front door, as he did every morning to take you to work. You slung your bag over your shoulder, took a deep breath, and swung open the door. You looked straight past him; eyes directed on the elevator doors in front of you. You walked directly past him, relying on him to shut the door behind you.

Your heart was racing, it took all of your willpower not to twitch or tap your foot as you waited for the elevator. You set your jaw and stood stonewalled.

That’s how the day went: you completely ignoring Bucky. Although you normally ignored Bucky, today you didn’t look at him, thank him when he opened the door for you, nothing. Not even sparing a glance as he stared at you from his position on the sofa in your office. There he sat, usually splayed out and legs open; you could feel him staring at you. All you wanted to do was run into the women’s bathroom and sit there all day – anywhere would be better than here with him.

That’s how the weekend went, too: you spent the first six days ignoring him. Today was Saturday and you wanted to go shopping. Not the normal shopping. Today was all about showing Bucky that if you wanted something, you got it.

Again sporting the skimpiest outfit you could manage, you dragged Bucky around shopping all day. By your fifth store, your feet were absolutely killing you from walking so far in these heels, but it was worth it to torture Bucky. He carried all of your bags – from your purse, to you shopping bags, to even your coat. And nothing pissed him off more than you waiting at the register, the person behind the counter ringing up your literal tens-of-thousands of dollars’ worth of clothes, shoes, and bags, clicking your tongue and holding your hand out for your wallet. You tapped your foot, continuing your light conversation with the employee, waiting for Bucky to drop the heavy wallet into your palm. Without a turn of your head or even a thank you, you finished the transaction, walking through the door immediately, leaving Bucky to take your purchases.

This is what he deserved after embarrassing you like that. Was he just so nice to see where you’d take it? Did he want you to try to kiss him, just so he could say no? Just so he could turn you down? To be the one guy you wanted – and never got? Maybe he was going to sell the story. He was just like any other guy – but then why wouldn’t he kiss you? And the thought replayed in your mind, as did that night’s events. You had no other choice but to continue shopping and dragging him around.

Oh, he was pissed.

A fucking bagman? That’s how you saw him? That night was probably the calmest he’d ever seen you. You seemed nervous, even. Nervous because of his arm? Yes, he would’ve loved nothing more than to have you in the palm of his hand – literally – he would’ve loved to kiss you, and touch you, and hold you. He couldn’t take advantage of you like that. Not in your most vulnerable moment. After the robbery, you mind must’ve been scrambled. He wasn’t sure if that was your way of thanking him. He wasn’t about to let you throw yourself on him – who knows how you would’ve felt the next day.

But that’s not how you saw it, and you weren’t about to let him explain.

And this show you were putting on for him? He wasn’t dumb; he would’ve had to be oblivious to not know you were showing off for him. These skimpy outfits and tight dresses, necklaces that ended just at the top of your cleavage, skirts that ended just at the curve of your ass – he loved every minute of it. But he wanted you ­­out of it at the same time.

You were treating him like shit, which he didn’t enjoy. He could’ve stopped by now: dropped all your shit and walked right out of the store. Instead, he clenched his jaw, bit his tongue, and followed you around the block, holding your bags; the only saving grace was getting to walk behind you and stare at your shaking ass all day.

…

You pushed the apartment door open, barely holding it open long enough for Bucky to slip through, carrying bags lined up his arms. You heard the crinkling of some of the paper bags as the door shut on him. He took one step in, letting the door fall shut, then dropped everything to the floor nicely.

“No,” you said, not looking up from your cell phone. You pointed a finer across the room. “Bedroom.”

A sharp laughed cracked through the silence. You almost flinched, starting at Bucky cackling loudly at you. “That’s not my job.”

You stared at him, narrowing your eyes in challenge. “Excuse me?”

He crossed his arms over his chest, shit-eating-grin unfaltering. “You heard me, princess.”

You didn’t move. Instead, you took a step backwards as he approached you. He walked towards you until you were backed up against the kitchen counter. You mimicked his arms, crossing them over your own chest, inadvertently pushing your cleavage up – which you noticed when you saw his eyes flit down for the tiniest second before returning to your own eyes, a tinge of pink lacing his cheeks – not that he cared. “Don’t fucking call me that,” you spat, tilting your chin up. You were not intimidated by him.

He got so close that your pelvises were nearly touching. He leaned down, dropping his hands to the countertop on either side of you, his lips barely grazing the shell of your ear as he bent closer. “What do you want me to call you, baby?”

God, you looked so real in that moment. Caught off guard, maybe. But your usual forced scowl was replaced by your surprised expression, eyebrows raised, mouth slightly ajar, tongue tucked right where your two plump lips meet. You were holding your breath, he could tell. He liked you like this, better. When you weren’t trying to be all hard and intimidating, when you didn’t know how to react – couldn’t deal with these emotions because just this once, they were real.

You stumbled over your words, mind suddenly not processing anything. His stubble rubbed ever so lightly over your jaw, his breath tickling your neck. You didn’t know how long you were standing there. It felt like forever since either of you said anything.

Suddenly, he pulled away – just like before. You released your breath, about to speak and then –

He grabbed your face in both hands (one warm to the touch, the other cold from the marble) and held you so that you eyes gazed up at him. His blue eyes looking back into yours, a smile pulling at one corner of his lips. He pulled your head upwards, leaning his own down, meeting in the middle in a soft, tender kiss. He shrugged, letting himself fully tilt into the kiss, hips touching each other’s; you swung your arms around his neck, pulling yourself up to him, chest pressing against his.

God, you could get used to this.

And all it took was a little shopping.

[moon-in-daylight]

heyy! love your fics! i've seen you take requests so i'm testing my luck here. can we please get a dhawan!master x reader fic where reader is forced to pilot the tardis (like reason w her or link with her telepathically idk) to get the master to a hospital as he's passed out and kinda dying? like some angsty action that turns out fine in the end, please? thank you

Dispensable / Dhawan!Master x reader

Summary: You’ve always felt safe by The Master’s side, but when he endangers himself to save your life, you start wondering if his efforts to protect you are really worth it. Especially now that his life depends on you learning how to pilot a TARDIS.

Words: 4.6k

Warnings: Blood, weapons, injuries, insecure!reader, a little angst maybe. 

A/N: Anon, I’m sorry this took me so long. I’ve just been out of inspiration lately and this is what came out after a month of writing. I hope you still like it though 💖

It wasn’t unusual for The Master’s plans to go terribly wrong sometimes, as it wasn’t unusual that you regularly got hurt in the middle of your adventures as a consequence.

Luckily, it was nothing too serious most of the times. Maybe you would get some scratches while running on the quiet days, some scars on the most serious days when you had to face some extremely angry alien civilization… And, in the worst scenarios, you had almost encountered your reaper face to face.

It was inevitable to suffer some unfortunate accidents while travelling inside the TARDIS. You knew that from the very start, that your least developed anatomy would barely be able to follow a Time Lord’s way of living, especially one’s with so much love for chaos and destruction. You were well aware that while you travelled with The Master death would always be keeping an eye on you. Yet, you gladly took the risks that staying in his ship entailed.

From the first moment you had stepped a foot inside that console room, you had known there would never be a way of turning back to your old life. Not after seeing the things, places and eras he could show you with the simple pull of a lever. At first, the main reason you stayed with him was the time travelling.

Though it was extremely dangerous and you feared The Master could abandon anytime and anywhere when he got bored of you, you decided to endure his rage filled words about your species and his several rules on how you should behave to try and get him to show you the stars. He wasn’t an easy person to deal with, but you had grown to both love and deal with him, and you liked to think he had done the same with you too.

After more than a year aboard of his ship, you trusted him almost blindly, confident that he would do anything he could possibly do to try and get you uninjured of the deadly situations you faced daily.

He was way more gentle and caring now than he was when you first met him, though that was something he would never admit out loud to you. But his change of behavior was evident. You noticed it by the little thing. By the way he always kept an eye on you when you were outside of the TARDIS, on how he threatened anyone that seemed barely interested in hurting you… He almost seemed a different person now. He even took care of your wounds when he couldn’t prevent you from getting hurt, and making sure you got the fastest recovery possible instead of leaving you to deal with them on your own.

You supposed he had gotten used to having a ‘human pet’, and that he took the trouble of taking care of you mainly because he didn’t want to have to take another human in his TARDIS to replace you if you were ever missing. Too much inconvenience to have to take another pet now that he had finally grown somewhat comfortable with your presence… Either way, and despite the many risks you faced time and time again, you always felt save by his side knowing that he wouldn’t let you die that easily.

While being by his side, you barely could remember what fear felt like.

That was, of course, until you found yourself in the worst situation you could have pictured.

The day had started as any other, with The Master taking you to New Earth in the middle of the First New World War, following your request of wanting to know more about the future of your species. The Master had told you repeatedly that humanity’s history was not worth seeing, that they were little more than amoebas. But your curious self had insisted him so many times about wanting to see your future that he had eventually given in.

You didn’t exactly liked what you saw there. The cruelty, the hatred that your own race processed against their own… The senseless death and unnecessary barbarism between those of their own blood… The Master had warned you that it wouldn’t be pretty, but considering the fact you were already used to face every possible form of chaos by his side, you had been sure that nothing he could show you could be worse than the damage you had already seen him cause to distant planets and civilizations.

Now that you ran for your life in the middle of an open battlefield, hand in hand with The Master as he tried to guide you to the safety of his TARDIS under a never-ending rain of bullets, you realized your mistake. You had never imagined a war could be so bloodthirsty, so atrocious… The Master hadn’t said it, but you were sure he was jealous of the destruction and despair caused by your species.

The two sides of the conflict were ready to do anything to get even the slightest advantage over their enemies, and of course, The Master had decided he should turn such horrible situation in his favor. He had manipulated both, the leader of the resistance and the supreme general of the new Earth’s forces, to make them believe the other would throw an offensive in the middle of the night. That way, while everyone fought to death in the middle of the battlefield, you and him could sneak into each side’s bases and steal whatever could be useful or valuable.

The Master’s plan was executing itself perfectly, to the point where it was all being too good to be true. Everyone had seemed to believe him and, though you were suspicious that things were never that easy with him, he appealed to your specie’s stupidity to justify the fact that no major complications had met your little scam. If everything went as he had planned, you would be in and out of each fortress in barely ten minutes, with your pockets full and the armory of the TARDIS completely renewed with new nuclear weapons. But just when the both of you were emptying the armory of the rebel band, two guards caught you red-handed.

Apparently, before indulging their soldiers into a bloodshed battle that would likely finish all live on the planet, the leaders of each side had decided to make things the diplomatic way. And for the first time in a very long time, they had decided to unite forces against a common enemy, you and The Master. You would’ve been proud of them, had your life not been in such danger.

Now, getting yours and The Master’s head was top priority to every living being in that planet, and you almost doubted you would be able to make it to his ship alive.

You had ran alongside The Master from angry crowds hundreds, maybe thousands of times now, but never before had you felt so trapped. The TARDIS was somewhere nearby, and every step you took closer to her was a sigh of relief that left your already tired lungs. Bullets and all kinds of projectile weapons were thrown in your direction, and The Master had to keep you even closer than usual to his body to prevent you from getting hurt.

When the disguised aspect of the TARDIS finally met your eye, you thought you had never felt happier in your life, but your legs were beginning to get tired and you felt yourself losing all the strength in your body, struggling to stabilize the rhythm of your breathing.

One last push, you repeated yourself internally as you forced your body to not give up, to resist until you could collapse on the safety of the TARDIS’ ground.

With every passing second, you could see your destination getting closer, but that little time felt eternal as you did your best not to lose focus and sprint those last meters for the sake of your life.

You only let go of The Master’s hand so you could extend your arms to push the TARDIS’ doors open, get inside and quickly close them after you. But the only thing your hands laid on was the ground as you tripped and fell only a few steps away from the ship.

Your heart sunk in your chest as your bad luck struck in, realizing that you didn’t have enough time to stand up from the ground before the hordes of soldiers reached you, probably killing you instantly. This time there was no way out, and you closed your eyes while you met your unavoidable fate.

This wasn’t a bad way to die, you supposed. You hadn’t lived too long, but you had lived your life to the fullest, running away through the stars with a psychopath alien and visiting places most of your kind couldn’t even dream about. You were at peace with yourself, suspecting that The Master wouldn’t be too affected by your loss and knowing that you had already lived longer than what could be expected of such a fragile being living such a dangerous life.

You were ready to let the rest of your body hit the floor and say goodbye forever, but then The Master’s hands gripped you tight from each side of your body and pushed you up and forwards, giving you the last boost you needed to reach the TARDIS’ doors.

“What are you doing?!” His angry tone reprimanded you as he positioned himself behind you to shield you from your persecutors. “Run!”

Taking The Master’s hand in yours again, you finally made it to the insides of the TARDIS, the comfort of the familiar console room greeting you as she hummed happily at your arrival. As soon as the doors closed, you threw yourself onto the Time Lord, surrounding him with your arms to pull him into a victory hug, or more a thankfulness hug for having saved your life seconds earlier.

You squeezed him tight as you let fear crawl out of your body, starting to feel safe again by his side. For a moment you had truly believed he wouldn’t turn back for you, that he would simply get inside his ship and forget about the fact you had ever existed. But now, after watching him risking his own life to save yours, you realized there wasn’t a single place in the universe where you could really be endangered if you were with him.

As your breathing calmed and you stopped hearing the throbbing of your heart buzzing in your ears, you heard him hiss slightly at the same time you felt the lower part of your torso dampening. Getting away from him, you discovered your shirt was covered in blood, and immediately, you lifted it up to find there was no wound underneath.

Looking again in The Master’s direction and finding that his belly was also covered in the thick liquid, you didn’t let him time to say anything before undoing the lower buttons of his shirt and discovering a bullet wound on the right side of his torso.

Blood was quickly coming out of it, and you were quick to tear the lower side of your shirt so you could use the fabric to press against the bullet hole and stop the bleeding. You had always seen that work in movies, but the material was soon soaked and you realized you couldn’t stop him from bleeding out when you found a second wound a few centimeters above the first one.

“You’re going to bleed to death…” Fear was starting to form in the pit of your stomach as your mind rushed trying to find a solution to the mess developing right in front of you.

“Don’t exaggerate.” He said, as if he had just gotten an insignificant scratch. “I will be fine.”

“No.” You shook your head, taking some piece of clothing you had left in the room earlier and placing it over his belly in hopes it would do something more than the piece of fabric you had used earlier. That didn’t seem to stop the bleeding either and you started to become more and more desperate. “You need to regenerate.”

The Master frowned at you, and then you realized the weak state in which he was. In normal situations, he would have look way more threatening and powerful with the simple act of just lying his eyes on you. Now, looking at the titanic effort he put in simply trying to stay awake was enough for you to pity him.

When you thought of The Master, many adjectives came to your mind, but pity had never before been a word you would’ve use him to describe him.

“I’m not going to regenerate for something so stupid.” He immediately refused, and you cursed him internally as you guided him to the nearest couch, hand still pressing on the side of his body as you helped him sit down as comfortably as possible.

“You’re dying.” You tried to reason with him, but his stubbornness was too much to handle at the moment. He didn’t say a thing as he let the weight of his body collapse on the piece of furniture, and you watched him in desperation. “Please, just do the goddamn thing!”

You pressed the fabric in your hands harder against his wounds, wishing that he would listen to you for once in his life. When you got no answer from him, you lifted your stare to his face again, realizing he had lost consciousness.

“No, no, no, no...” You muttered as you shook his body slightly, trying to get him to wake up. “Wake up, come on. Just wake up and regenerate!”

Seeing that he wouldn’t respond, you immediately decided to check for his heartbeat. Or more correctly, heartbeats. Placing two fingers on the side of his neck, you found that the rhythm of his two hearts was starting to get very similar to the one your single heart made, and then you realized just in how much danger he was.

You were no doctor, but he had already lost a lot of blood. If you did nothing, you feared he could be dead in less than a few hours.

You had been under The Master’s care and protection for so long that now that you were the one that had to look after him, you felt completely helpless. How were you supposed to help him? All you knew about Time Lord’s biology was that they could regenerate when in life or death situations, and he had refused to do it, so you were out of ideas.

“Please, help me…” You felt your eyes watering as you cupped his face in between your hands, shaking it from side to side slightly in yet another attempt to bring him back in himself and get him to help you save him.

You didn’t get any response from him, but you heard the TARDIS humming intensely at you. And you felt relieved to at least have received a single answer to your plea, even if it was by some piece of seemingly inanimate, alien technology. Turning your head to the center of the room, you watched the console lights flicker as she indicated you to get closer to the controls of the ship. Understanding what she wanted you to do, you looked at The Master one last time.

“I’ll never forgive you if you dare to die on me.”

He looked as calmed as you had ever seen him, eyes closed and facial expressions completely relaxed. Your last thought while looking at him before rushing to the controls, was that you wished you could see that serenity in him more often, in better situations that the one taking place now of course.

Placing yourself before the buttons and levers of the console, you found yourself completely lost. You had seen The Master piloting the TARDIS billions of times, but looking down at the controls you couldn’t recall any of the movements he made while doing so… Was it really that hard to show you how to pilot the TARDIS? Hadn’t he thought it could be useful in a situation like this one? And why couldn’t you have a better memory? How could you have seen him doing so many times and not have the slightest idea of what to do?

You searched around the console in hopes of finding a piloting manual, some instructions, or at least some note handwritten by the dying Time Lord that could give you some clue on how to put the time travelling ship in motion. But when you found nothing and realized you wouldn’t even know when or where to take the ship to if you knew how to pilot it, you started to feel impotence taking over you.

The Master was dying because of you, because he had stopped to help you, a simple, useless human. And you weren’t able to do anything to help him, to make things right. You were the one dying, not him.

Feeling the lump forming in the back of your throat you wished you could turn back time and stop him from helping you get to the ship.

How ironic was that? You were inside a time travelling machine, desperate to go back in time, and you simply couldn’t. You had never felt so small and worthless in your whole life as the tears started to fall down your cheeks.

“I don’t know what to do…” You looked back towards The Master, his unconscious body laid on the other side of the room. Your eyes examined him with an apologetic look for a few seconds before the TARDIS’ hum called you again.

Following the sound she made, you realized she was trying to draw you attention to one specific lever of the console, one she had pointed out by illuminating it with a characteristic purple light. Assuming she was trying to guide you, you got closer to the lever and pulled it without thinking it twice, desperate to at least try something to fix the situation.

When you heard the approving hum of the TARDIS and noticed the way she illuminated a close button in the same purple light, you proceeded to push that button too, and then the next one she pointed you to. You honestly didn’t know what any of those controls were doing or if you would be able to follow her instructions well enough to get The Master somewhere safe, but you had no time to waste with doubt and second-guessing.

You rushed through the console’s controls, pulling and pressing as soon as the TARDIS indicated you what it was that you had to do next. After pulling one final lever, you noticed the ground beneath your feet tremble as the ship entered the time vortex. You looked back at The Master one last time as the ship landed in an unknown location and time.

“Is it done?” You asked her, quickly wiping away the tears that had fallen from your eyes seconds earlier.

She gave you yet another hum, and you supposed you would need to go outside and figure out if you had succeeded in piloting the TARDIS to the right place. When you ran outside and found yourself inside a building that seemed like what you knew as a hospital, you finally let out the breath that you had been holding.

By the time The Master woke up again, he was lying inside a hospital bed, a sharp pain on his side and a little dizziness caused by whatever substance they were putting into his IV, which he quickly took off without even acknowledging what it was. He attempted to get off the bed to try and find out in which planet he was, or how he had gotten there, but he found himself too weak to move, the stabbing pain on his side making him desist from it.

Giving up and lying his head back on the pillow again, he caught a glimpse of something that look like a bracelet on his right wrist. When he looked at it, he realized his data was printed on that bracelet:

SPECIES: Time Lord

AGE: ?

NAME: Doctor

He immediately frowned at the name of his older enemy on his own hand, and for a second he theorized about being dead and having been sent to the profundities of hell as a punishment for his numerous crimes during his extremely long existence. For a second he feared he would have to live as The Doctor for the rest of eternity.

If there was in fact something similar to hell, he was sure this was it.

Your entrance in the room interrupted his thoughts as he sighed in relief by seeing you. He let out the air too fast out of his lungs, and he couldn’t help but hiss in pain.

“How are you feeling?” You asked him after you realized he had gained consciousness back again, closing the door behind you.

“Better than ever, love.” He said with that smug smile on his face, trying to ignore the intense ache on the side of his torso.

You looked at him for a few seconds, upset that he would act as if nothing had happened. Well, he was The Master. He was an expert in being annoying, you thought. What else could you expect from him?

“I hope it’s really hurting, you thick idiot.” You spitted out, not holding yourself back as you bitterly let him know just how angry you were with him. Had you been anyone else, you wouldn’t have probably lived to tell about it “Do you have any idea how worried I was about you?! I thought you were dying!”

“Dying is not something I’m very good at, as you can see.” The Master casually said with a pompous smirk on his face, one you wished you could slap off him. You simply decided to ignore his comment.

“Why didn’t you just regenerate? Do you have any idea how many trouble you would have spare me?”

“I thought you liked this face, pet.” He raised an eyebrow at you, arrogance showing all over his face as you couldn’t help but blush slightly. It was true you found him attractive, but he clearly didn’t need you to boost his already enormous ego.

“I would have rather have you alive with a different face than dead with this one.”

For barely a second you could see the façade in The Master’s eyes fall apart as you said those words. You knew he wasn’t very keen on talking about feelings, but you hoped he knew you were being serious.

“How did we arrive here?” He quickly changed the subject. “And why am I The Doctor now?”

“I brought us here. The TARDIS taught me to pilot her” You started to explain, watching the surprised look on his face as he tried to imagine you maneuvering his ship. “And well, when they asked me what your species was so they could give you the right medication, I thought I would tell them the truth, but when they asked me for your name I figured telling them they were treating one of the most dangerous criminals in all of time and space wasn’t such a great idea.”

“I would have rather you letting me die before letting anyone think I was her.” He rolled his eyes and ripped off the bracelet on his wrist, clearly annoyed by the idea of being mistaken for his former best friend.

“If you hadn’t stopped for me back then I wouldn’t have had to do it!” You pointed out in frustration, tired of him only complaining. You knew The Master would never thank you for saving his life, but those comments he made were starting to get you on your nerves. The Time Lord started at you in confusion for a few seconds, eyes glued to your face as he tried to decode what was going through your mind before forcing himself inside of it. After staying silent for several seconds, you decided to ask right away. “Why would you risk your life for me anyway?”

“You’re my pet, dear. I’m supposed to keep you safe.” He replied as if it was an obvious thing. When you had first met him, you had never thought you would hear him speak that way about a human.

“Not if it costs you your own life!”

“Did you really want me to abandon you?” He asked, tone deadly serious and eyes inspecting you carefully.

“No, but…” Sighing, you tried to find a proper way to express what was going on inside your head. “I would never want you to get hurt because of me. I’m only human, and my life is so ephemeral and fragile… Your life is way bigger and exciting than what mine could ever be, and you shouldn’t put it at risk because of me. I’m dispensable.”

While hearing your words, The Master regretted every time he had told you how inferior you were because of your ‘human condition’. He had seen you as dispensable at first, but he no longer considered you anything other than his equal, his partner in crime. The fact that you had grown to see yourself as something of less worth than him was almost as painful as the injury on his side.

“Don’t you ever say something like that again.” He warned you in what almost sound like a threatening tone. “You’re not dispensable. If you were I wouldn’t have you in my TARDIS. I did what I did, and I would do it again if I had to, love. I promised to take care of you and that’s exactly what I’m going to do, no matter the cost. Is that understood?”

A little taken aback but moved by his words, you simply nodded, trying to regain composure again.

“Good, now help me get out of here.” Without giving you a second to react, he immediately attempted to get out of the mattress. You quickly rushed to his side to try and get him to lay back again.

“What are you doing? You’re still not ready to go!” You tried to convince him to stay in the hospital for a little longer, to give himself some time to fully recover. Deep down you knew everything you’d try would be useless, knowing that he would run away from that room at the first chance he got. He would probably even want to go plan his next heist right after arriving the TARDIS, as if nothing had ever happened.

“It won’t take long for the staff to discover you lied about my identity, and they’ll want some explanations.” He began to explain to you. “We need to be gone by the time they arrive.”

Closing your eyes, you realized he was right. That was one of the few inconveniences of travelling around space and time causing chaos and destruction, you couldn’t stay anywhere for too long if you didn’t want to get caught, and The Master was a wanted man in practically every corner of the universe.

“Okay, we are leaving.” The Master’s face was adorned with a pleased smile as he heard your words. “But don’t even think about getting into trouble for the next few days. You’re going to get a full recovery first. You have to promise me.”

“I promise you, pet.” He stated as he leaned onto you to use your body as support when he got up.

“Oh, and I’m piloting the TARDIS, by the way.” You added, gaining a warning look from him. “What? You are going to need a lot of rest in the next few days and I have to practice in case I have to pilot her again.”

[some-weird-kpop-girl]

Kpop Update

I need to stop... or maybe not

Jessi

Favorite Song: Down. It has such a beachy feel and I love songs with beachy feels. Might lowkey make a choreography for it at some point.

Notes: Ok, so, I can’t even really remember how this happened. It’s like Jessi just popped into my life and I was like... Idk who this is but she is a Q.U.E.E.N. She’s just great.

A literal goddess

KARD

Bias: Somin

Bias Wrecker: Jiwoo

Favorite Song: hahahah lol... I really like Bomb Bomb tho. Made a choreo to it. Might post a link later if I feel confident enough.

Notes: Idek how my bias and bias wreckers are girls... they’re just so awesome. And hilarious! Somin just repeating everything BM says even though she doesn’t understand it is the funniest thing ever. Actually, this whole group is handsdown one of the funniest groups I stan. And even though BM isn’t my bias or bias wrecker, there is a large part of my heart dedicated just for him. Like, he’s so open minded and funny and I think everyone in the Kpop community loves him, even if you don’t stan KARD (don’t @ me. Just spittin facts)

How is one so beautiful? I aspire to be as beautiful as Somin.

The Boyz

Bias: Sunwoo

Bias Wrecker: Kevin

Favortie Song: Tattoo. Usually it’s impossible for me to pick a favorite song in a groups with so many great songs, but I literally love this song with all of my heart and soul.

Notes: So, me getting into The Boyz is probably the funniest scenario. I was just casually scrolling through Pintrest and Sunwoo appeared and I was like, “...I don’t know who that is, but I’m gonna stan his group now because he is so breathtakingly beautiful.” lol. Also, you ever see those idols that you’re like “I don’t even want to date them, I just want to be their friend”? Yeah, that’s how I see Kevin and Jacob.

The exact picture that led me to stan The Boyz

Golden Child

Bias: Jangjun

Bias Wrecker(s): Joochan and Bomin

Favorite Song: Ok so at first I thought it was One, but then it was Wannabe, but then I listened to Without You like a bunch of times in a row, and then I actually kind of fell in love with DamDaDi and you see where this is going so I’m gonna stop now

Notes: At first, I was kinda upset when Pump It Up came out, because I really like GolCha’s darker concepts. However, after seeing them perform it, I think that they really like brighter concepts, and watching them perform it made me like it even more. Long story short, I support all GolCha Concepts and you should too.

So handsome!

Mamamoo

Bias: Hwasa

Bias Wrecker: Literally all of them, thanks.

Favorite Song: Ok, so like, um... I can’t.... Aya is a whole bop tho, jus saying

Notes: So, I’ve kinda wanted to get into Mamamoo for a while now, I just always hesitate to get into girl groups because I just don’t watch as much of their content and it makes me feel lowkey disloyal... anyways, I’m glad I did and I just want to say that these girls are A.M.A.Z.I.N.G. ok?! Like, they break stereotypes and stand up for themselves and I love them for it. Hwasa is like millimeters from overcoming Hyuna to become my favorite female idol because even though I love Hyuna with my entire soul, Hwasa is closer to my body type and she just flat up told everyone that she loves herself the way she is and that if they don’t like it they can just... f off (like Corona lol). It’s so inspiring and I’m going to stop now before this turns into a five page essay.

I aspire to be like Hwasa.

P1Harmony

Bias: Theo

Bias Wrecker: Intak

Favorite Song: Once again, hahaha lol. They’re all just sooooooo good. Total bops and I scream all the lyrics while I drive down the interstate.

Notes: So, occasionally YouTube will just suggest videos for a random group for me to watch. The teasers for Siren came up and I was like, “I’ll check it out.” One of the best decisions I’ve ever made. I love them so much. Like, I can even find the words to describe how much I love them. Already one of my ult groups. P1Harmony ROTY

I have the fattest crush on him

AB6IX

Bias: Daehwi

Bias Wrecker: Woong

Favorite Song: All of them. Literally. All. Of. Them.

Notes: First of all, I didn’t realize it until I started checking them out more, but AB6IX was a group that I’d wanted to check out since they debuted, and somehow I literally forgot to stan them (lol adhd culture, am I right?). Big mistake. But I’m glad I found them again. Second, Daehwi really doesn’t know how to write a bad song, does he? Third, I got into AB6IX like a couple of weeks after Youngmin left (don’t really have an opinion on it. Not gonna talk about it), and I just knew that with one rapper leaving, one of the other ones was gonna turn out to be a great rapper. I thought it was going to be Woong. I was wrong, but not dissapointed at all. Stan Rapper Daehwi (the boy can literally do anything).

I just think he’s great

Treasure

Bias: Doyoung

Bias Wrecker(s): Mashiho, Haruto, Yoshi, Junkyu, Hyun... ok yeah no actually just the whole group.

Favorite Song: Boy. I’m especially in love with Yedam’s line in the pre-chorus. Like it’s just so good. But the whole song is amazing. On that note, I have to add that Hyunsuk’s rap in MMM is what I’ve lived for for the last few days.

Notes: I cannot even begin to explain how happy it makes me that a whole third of their members are Japanese, and that two thirds of the rap line are foreigners. And like, they’re not even like ~average~ rappers. They’re really, really good. (Also, can we address the fact that Asahi, Haruto, and Yoshi all helped write Orange?! Like, bilingual legends). And like, the cover they did of Whistle was like out of this world?! Like I literally listen to it multiple times a day... might highkey make it my ringtone. Ok can you tell I love these boys? Yeah? Good.

Our cute Dobby!

Also, I had to include this:

Me (a fool): I’m not going to stan Treasure because I don’t want to jump on the Treasure bandwagon

[wexhappyxfew]

SHANNON!! HELLO MY FRIEND ☺️☺️ hope you're having a lovely day!! Okay you know I absolutely your character Death, so whatever you want to talk about with him :)

KRYSTAAAA hello my friend! I hope you are having a great day yourself! You sent this yesterday but I wanted to take my time with this as discuss one of my *FAVORITE* things about Death in this post - appearance and reasons WHY he appears this way. I know we don’t see actual images, but I try to work with the description in Landslide to give Death, in my personified way, an appearance - because in my mind he has an appearance, quite similarly to a man - LET ME STOP MYSELF WE’LL GET INTO IT BELOW HAHA!!! AW THANKS!! :,) I’m so glad you enjoy it truly, that means so much and I’ve worked to really develop Him and His character all together along with His role with Natia because it is one of the most important connections Natia holds with someone in Landslide - even though they can’t ever speak - AGH I LOVE IT!! Let’s get into it!

SO -- we are going to work with 4 general images that I’ve always envisioned Death as and I’ll really talk about WHY I have Him as such because there are reasons why these pictures are the way they are and why I decided on these pictures for Him!

Let’s solidify two things first!

(1) When I created Death in general, I wanted to make Him a male, just because I saw Death as male in my mind and for the dynamic of the story it would work best. But for a spin-off from Landslide (there may be a few!) I’ve thought about digging into another aspect which is - in this sort of fic, Death is seen in the way the seer wishes to see Death, which I think is pretty cool! There’s a reason though Natia sees Death as male....ahem...Agent Mortem I’m looking at you.

(2) The two important things to touch on with the Death I’ve created - cloaks and wings - cloaks (+hood) have been broguht up a various amount of times already for Death n the 26 chapters of posted Landslide chapters and content BUT we have yet to discuss wings. I can’t jump TOO into that yet exactly, but that is the second most important aspect of Death I’ve crafted together! Keep that in mind!

OKAY...now that we have all of that put together, let’s jump into it - 4 pictures, 4 ideas - WE LOVE TO SEE IT!! There may also be a cut somewhere below - idk where, but it’ll be there! Enjoy! 

AND AS A SIDE NOTE - THESE IMAGES ARE FROM PINTEREST SO NONE OF THESE IMAGES ARE ACTUALLY MINE OR CREATED BY ME!!! 

FIRST IMAGE: This is probably the best, accurate description and image of Death in my eyes at least - I’m sure the readers have envisioned Him differently (just imagine He has a cloak on and it’s covering His head LOL!) - but in many ways this is my portrayal of how I envision Death. Almost looking as if he is a regular man - dark tousled hair, a grey coat, dark boots - the works! But he’s quite sad, this wandering person, aimlessly moving about and he’s quite grief-filled. And so, that’s a reason I particularly love this photo because we get the head focused downward to convey this portrayal of grief and how consuming it is. I really wasn’t out to make Death this emotionless person who just takes and takes - I wanted in my portrayal to show how much pain he holds - and how he is protecting Natia with all His might from someone like Himself because He can’t bare to do His duty that He has for eternity on Natia. 

AND THE WINGS!! Okay, wings - we get more into the wings at the end of part 3 and extremely expanded in part 4 - but wings are extremely important. They are in fact black and feathered - I begin to reference him at the end of Part 3 as if he were a ‘Father of Ravens’ in a sense because of what a raven represents and for Death’s character I feel that is very true to his character specifically His role He takes in with Natia. You might even see him int he form of ravens as we come particularly out of Bastogne and the weather gets warmer - it will be very prominent. 

I would say this is my absolute favorite - if you ever need a reference - this is image is 100% what I would have crafted for Death if he were portrayed in a picture! 

SECOND IMAGE: Here is an absolute FAVORITE!!! (1) We know Natia sees Death essentially as male (for various reasons regarding Agent Mortem who literally is Agent Death or Agent of Death if we want - but that’s for another ask!) and so this I would say is a very good representation of the wings + ravens + eyes + profile of Death. The narrow-eye expression of his facial features if very prominent - Natia does much of the same - and let’s just say Death has picked that up as well. He sees the world really in blacks, whites and greys - similar to how Natia views the world because of Agent Mortem ( a morally grey character) and so I really took all of that and worked with it in this way! Natia, Death and Mortem are the mains in my mind and so they all see the world in grey - but who will break from that? They’re all connected with one another in many ways - who will break that?

But yes, in this picture, I go off the fact that in Landslide, Death will take the form of a raven as his best chance to get closer to Natia, to even try and interact with her and that is very prominent at the end of Part 3 and all of Part 4 and even some postwar! 

THIRD IMAGE: OKAY - so here is where we get into more of the ‘cloaked figure’ that encompasses Death and this image of his cloaked figure. The cloak hides quite a lot of things and one of those things are his wings - which don’t really make an appearance until the end of Part 3 for various reasons! Which I can’t say just yet :) But it also hides his face - his expressions - why might you ask does he want to particularly hide that? 

Let’s reference the most recent chapter update - Chapter 26, entitled Weapons Don’t Weep. (1) Natia is in fact a weapon, not only crafted by War, who makes his somewhat annual appearance, but also my Agent Mortem - who’s to say Death might’ve also crafted her? (2) Death and Natia have a unique connection - they can’t communicate through words, they can’t really communicate through much if you think about it - just feelings, emotions, thoughts. SO - this just adds onto evidence of how Death actually can control her a bit. The chaos that ensued at the end of Chapter 26 was a precursor to that - he can control her chaos, she can’t control his. The closing of his eyes - he uses a cloak to hide that he is abusing his power of control on her - and letting chaos warp her. NOW THIS IS JUST THE BEGINNING - A MERE PRECURSOR AS STATED. We’ll get into it much later on and why, but the cloak covers wings + facial expressions for good reasoning.

AND THE HORSE YOU MAY ASK? Well...I did call Natia a dark horse right? The definition of a dark horse is “a candidate or competitor about whom little is known but who unexpectedly wins or succeeds.” Not only is Natia a lone wolf BUT she is very much a dark horse - you don’t know much but she manages to win her battles - she may not win the war, but she will wage a battle and win what she must to survive, that’s the name of the game currently. Plenty of times in discussion - it’s like Death and Natia at a game of poker, in a black room (as described by a friend!!) and that’s very real almost every chapter that is written and published - a tension continually building, awaiting to see what will happen next, and just a constant build off of that over and over again. She takes on the persona of a dark horse more often than not - she’s underestimated, never entirely trusted, yet she survives?! People start to take that into consideration, especially in Bastogne - BUT THAT IS FOR ANOTHER TIME!!!! :D

FOURTH IMAGE: OKAY NOW -- this is sort of the expected image - Death with his cloak, a cane, dark gloves, shadowed face that you can’t see. This is the image I imagine when I am writing and Death is sort of watching Natia from afar - purposely I place him in those scenarios for various reasons depending on what is happening in that time during the story. And this is the image he sort of takes on. I don’t have many notes particularly for this image, only simply the fact that this is what masks what is portrayed in the first image - it covers the wings, the facial expressions, the man that is evidently underneath and simply that a man - yet a being forever wandering aimlessly, doing his duty given for all of eternity. But I really think this is what most will remember the Death I chose to personify him by! :D

OKAY SO THIS WAS SERIOUSLY JUST SO FUN OMG!!! This is the first time I’ve used pictures to really dig into what I’m getting at with characters - especially handling a character to the capacity in which Death withholds - there’s a lot to unpack with Him! But I truly hope you enjoyed this - I’m always happy to do more of these for any of my characters - especially even War, or Natia, or Agent Mortem - I might even just do it for fun who knows - OF COURSE WHEN I HAVE TIME HAHA!!! But I really enjoyed this so thank you for indulging and enabling Krysta!!! This was super fun to give my in-depth take on someone like Death and how I decided to craft and personify him!