#but if you wanna make sure not to lose track of me you should follow/add me on other places as well

[namazunomegami]

Into the Void

Pairing: Geto Suguru x gn!reader

Synopsis: Geto is so succumbed to his ideals that you have no choice but to run. But the hunt for you is more than a simple chase. It's resurrection. It's repentance. Just like in the parable of the lost sheep.

CW: canon compliant, established relationship, predator/prey, injuries, blood, toxic dynamics, heavy religious symbolism, emotional distress, dissociation, tiny bit of hurt/comfort, yandere behavior, Geto is a manipulative ass how surprising

WC: 5.2k whoops

Credits: my dear @notveryrussian for proofreading but tbh I should start calling you my editor from now on lmao. I'm glad you enjoyed my sneak peeks so much 💕

Song rec: since I can't control myself, I picked 3 songs by Nine Inch Nails that gives the perfect vibes to the story. For the exposition, I recommend Heresy, mostly because the lyrics resonates with the reader's thoughts about Geto. For the escape/chase part, I picked Eraser for the creepy vibes and reader's slowly deterioriating sanity. For the closing part, I picked A warm place because it's a comforting yet a bit gloomy track

A/N: Saying that this idea possessed me is an understatement. Initially I only wanted to put effort into the whole chase scene but obviously I started to add lore into the whole thing. And since they grew on me and I simply love their dynamic, a part 2 is on the way yaaay.

Minors shall not interact unless they wanna get punched.

And a usual warning for dark content. I wanted to keep it mild but I couldn't. Maybe I'm a lil bit too skilled when it comes to writing about fear.

It’s all too painful to think that maybe running away with Geto wasn’t the best idea.

Of course you loved him, you loved the twins too and the makeshift family you created, it really healed some of the wounds you received in the past. But you wished it would’ve stayed that way. Living together, somewhere far away, isolated, in peace. Have a fresh start, build a nest for the four of you and fill it up with love.

But he had other plans.

There were a lot of improvements in the initial phase of your plans. Building community, uniting the herd. You enjoyed some reverence from the followers too. Eventually the initial number of breakthroughs began to stagnate, despite all the effort. It became routine, like you were being dragged through the same day for years and years without end. When you were faced with even more setbacks, you started to realize that you basically never left the temple and it soon began to feel like a cage. Golden and holy. It was draining to see people lose their sense of individuality and how he became their only source of validation. It was torment. Living life as an idol of worship tucked into a forgotten corner of a church. Praised like a twisted Gothic Madonna with a blue cloth over your head, but in reality you weep, you’re their Mater Dolorosa, with swords piercing your sorrowful heart.

The most devastating thing about realizing you’re not fit to run a cult, is the fact that you lack the most understated yet important aspect of it: believing in the agenda you want to spread. How could you guide all those helpless, simple-minded sheep while questioning whether your destination is real or not? Maybe that Canaan has nothing to do with milk and honey, instead it’s just a pile of rubble.

You soon got tired of it all. His drive, his goal, all too impossible to achieve. Maybe he knew he could never make it happen, but it consumed him regardless. You’ve lost the most cherished parts of him to his hatred, his deeply repressed rage against any injustices he had to deal with after the infamous Star Plasma incident.

You weren’t sure about your feelings towards Geto anymore. Were you afraid of him? Angry at him? Bitter? Disappointed? Worried? It all turned into mush, a grotesque, black liquid as the thin walls of the temple slowly made you feel like they were closing in on you. You had no idea how much time you had, until your unresolved feelings will taint the whole place.

You always circled back to the worst possible action to protect your soft, aching heart… When you thought that nothing will change for the better, you wanted to run away. You wanted to hide. The ambivalence of your feelings towards him weighed on your heart and conscience, like a thousand stones. You loved him, yet you loathed what has become of him. Despite that you trusted him with the map of your soul, made it through all the highs and lows of your relationship so far, all the deep abysses of pain and suffering.

Maybe you should run, just for the sake of it. To test how it will make you feel. Will it make you feel freed? At ease? Will it lift the weights on your chest? Will this sense of incoming doom vanish?

Maybe you should find Gojo. He wouldn’t condemn you, but he would be disappointed. If you set your judgement and resentment to aside, he’s the only one who can talk with the higher ups to scratch your name off the list of curse users who are on death row.

How much time did you need to forge your plan? Not even a single minute. It was only natural for you to memorize everybody’s routine, how to distinguish the sound of their steps, to pick a timeframe when nobody is lurking around the halls. The first (and probably last) time you were glad those who have hurt you gave you a skill, besides the ability to harness cursed energy of course. They made you stealthy, alert, observant.

And when Geto left you to cater to his followers, you decided to put your plan into action.

Your body is strung tight with the tension of waiting, agitation making you feel as if you were unraveling at the seams - but something deep inside of your mind pleaded for you to stay. Agony and anxiety were plaguing you until you’ve found enough courage to get up and sneak out. Now, you had the chance to show off everything you’ve learned: sliding the doors shut so slowly that they don’t make a noise, walking down the corridors with socked feet, carefully putting the middle parts of your feet on the floor, instead of your heels, easily avoiding those parts that creak.

Sometimes, when he was immersed in his thoughts, he was amused by how faint your steps sounded.

An involuntary instinct warns you. It’s trying to convince you that he can see you through the eyes of bodhisattvas residing in the thangka paintings decorating the walls. You almost give up your quest as you glance at the depiction of Vajrabhairava. In all its anger, with its six faces and twelve limbs. A dreadful beast that defies death itself.

You don’t want to do this to him, do you?

You look away from the painting, focusing on getting your shoes on and climbing out through the window. As you’re squatting on the windowpane, you can see all of Tokyo stretched out beneath you. You’re a little bit annoyed that all temples are built on a mountain. A long way to go, but you can never know when this place will turn into a funeral pyre.

It’s a little bit too easy. There’s no sign of surveillance curses nearby, you only need to slide down on the wet tiles, jump up high, land in the mud and let yourself be swallowed by the darkness of the forest. You specifically picked your least conspicuous clothes to blend into your surroundings perfectly. And the cold and murky night will let you go safely. The leaves will conceal your tracks.

So many things are working in your favor tonight.

You know there’s no need to rush. You can only draw attention to yourself if you are running around, creating noise and disturbing the wildlife. You don’t even use a flashlight, you have to get used to the darkness, the full Moon will guide you with all her dazzling light. And after that, Tokyo will do the same, with its crowded streets and all its places to hide.

There’s a weird kind of tranquility in your heart. How the cold prickles your skin, the moisture in the air, the faint noise of the creatures dwelling under the leaves, up in the trees, singing, chirping, crawling. The scent of wet soil, the gentle caress of the wind…

Now, you feel free.

As you walk deeper and deeper into the woods, you feel lighter, you feel like you could fly away, like you could dance all the way towards your destination. You’re thinking about actually doing that, as if you got possessed by a strange spirit…

But the uneven, slippery ground makes you fall right into the mud. You squirmed a little, trying to get hold of a tree trunk and then…

Silence, dead silence.

Your heart sinks deep in your chest.

You know what it means. When nature falls silent. There’s…

There’s a threat nearby.

A primal instinct tells you to run.

There’s no way, there’s no fucking way that he already noticed you were gone.

Twigs whip at your skin as you’re running mindlessly. Wherever you end up, it will be fine, as long as you can enter the outskirts of the city. The cold night air stings your throat, your heaving breath leaves your mouth in puffy clouds. You feel the urge to cough, deep from your bone-dry lungs.

The ground beneath you turns soft and steep. You lose your poise, stumbling and rolling all the way down until you fall from a high clod of rain-washed soil. Your body collides with a cold, wet, yet incredibly hard and flat surface, fraying the skin on your palm and face. Your back and shoulders will be bruised by tomorrow, painting your body with black and blue spots. The pain ripples through your entire being, paralyzing you for a couple of moments.

As you slowly gathered your battered self from the ground with a grunt, you realize you landed on a road. It’s a good sign, you’re not so far from civilization. But instead of following the road, cutting through the forest is the wiser decision.

Your relief is short-lived, just like a may fly.

A sinister feeling takes hold on you. It makes you freeze, squeezing your insides. Like you’re sitting in the jaw of an eldritch beast. You slowly turn back to the direction of your fall.

The lights are flickering.

You grab on the guardrail for dear life. You try to fill your lungs with shaky breaths, your heart desperately beating against your ribcage. Your trembling knees barely keep you upright, yet nothing can make you move. You have been found, you’re defeated, there’s no point in running away from him. The injuries, the already forming bruises will only deplete your strength.

How could you fight him? You’re aware that if he wanted to, he could break your bones and twist your body at the joints with an arm behind his back.

How could you outrun him? He’s capable of summonning a swarm of curses before you even take a step.

How could you make war with him?

Three of the lamp lights were already out, you stared into the darkness, the boundless abyss right before your eyes. You can’t even force yourself to blink.

And when the lights came back on, he was just standing there. Without breaking a sweat. Your pulse feels non-existent.

What infuriated you even more was that he wasn’t wearing his gojo-kesa. The motherfucker even gave you a head start by changing into something comfortable before he came to fetch you. Or simply he noticed your absence later than you expected.

Whatever, both is bad news for you.

He doesn’t utter a single word, he merely walks towards you. Slowly cornering you. Feasting on the terror on your face. Meanwhile you can’t unravel what could possibly be going on in his mind. The only thing you notice is that those violet sparks in his eyes are so sharp they could cut yours out of their sockets.

Should you give up? Should you beg for forgiveness?

But then, an idea blooms inside your mind.

You don’t hide your fear, you let your body tremble freely, fingers desperately clinging onto the metal, with your shoulders hunched to protect your neck and your wide, frightened eyes stare back at him. Letting him believe that you won’t fight back. That he can take you back to the temple and throw you back into your cage.

And when his foot hits the bisector, you jump. Right into the nothingness behind your back.

You fall on leaves and broken twigs again. You roll and roll with such speed you can’t comprehend the growing distance. Not even having an idea of how far you’re from him. Small rocks, branches, hardened roots of trees, bones all cut, scratch and pierce you. But you endure it, you’ll undergo any torture if it meant you’ll be freed. Your only hope is that the adrenaline will deal with the pain.

Suddenly, you violently crash into a tree, the ridged texture imprints deeply into your stomach. Acid bursts from your throat. Your diaphragm didn’t avoid the hit either, breathing is not unlike Sisyphean task as you try to get your shaking limbs to stand. Your mind is disturbed by the lack of air and your desperate attempts at getting yourself together. You’re wheezing like a dog. You must look pathetic, you think.

It takes almost all of your mental strength to calm down and slowly breathe through your nose, your lungs finally opening. But Geto won’t let you recover, you hear the fallen leaves getting crushed under his feet. You take a few sharp, ragged breaths, like it’s the last drag of a cigarette before the train comes and then, you move.

You hide behind a thick pine tree, palms covering your mouth and nose. The lack of oxygen is just another frustrating hindrance to your successful escape plan. Dizziness fills your head like a thick fog and sucks the strength out of your shins, needing to lean against the trunk to keep yourself standing. You try to conceal your cursed energy with all your might. A tracker who’s untraceable is a useful pawn in the hands of the higher ups, this skill made you a cherished student back in the day. Back when everything was so… no, it’s only the nostalgia making you wistful, it wasn’t any better.

The rustling gets quieter, you wait until the sound eventually dies. An almost muted sigh of relief leaves your lips in a thick cloud, dancing in the cold air.

From the corner of your eye, a floating form cuts through the pale moonlight.

Looking closely at its shape, you realize what kind of curse it is. The beetle looking one that attacks instantly once it senses movement. You can’t believe it, you’re going to -

The curse drags itself into your aura, scanning your form that is fused with the pine. Every muscle is tensed, you’re stiff as a board, you suppress every reflex in your eye and empty chest. You’re just like a statue, a corpse, showing no signs of life. Only an agonizing scream echoes inside your skull. A scream that puts mental breakdowns to shame.

It’s like an eternity until the curse finally disappears from your sight.

You definitely look exhausted, your body is limp and heavy like lead. But you must keep going at all costs, even if you have no idea how many curses are sent after you. You walk around the mountain instead of going down like he’d expect it.

Slowly yet surely, you calm yourself down. You know that you’re still in his grasp, but you still have a chance to outsmart him. You go deeper and deeper, you’re near the heart of the forest now. The moonlight barely crawls through the leaves, it’s easier to navigate according to what you hear rather than to what you see. The surroundings are growing eerie, you ache for light and warmth. And the longing sucks a bit of spirit out of you.

Before you can start questioning yourself, the sound of running water fills your ears.

A narrow, yet fast running stream plowed through the forest. Though you were unsure of staying close to the stream, going through it and getting to the other side sounds like a smart idea. As you take a reluctant step, you realize the water is ice cold. And when you dive into it further, enduring the strong current, it’s not as shallow as you believed. You’re submerged all the way up to your thighs. At its deepest point, the stream hugs your waist. The cold makes your movements slow and rigid, your teeth clang together in a frenzy. The bottom is filled with smooth, flat pebbles, they make it easy to - 

You slip on the rounded, polished stones and fall into the stream. The freezing temperature makes your skin shrink, it prickles you like a thousand needles. Scared, you crawl around the bottom, trying to get a hold of something and emerge back to the surface. A sharp, burning pain wakes in your palm, tears streaming down your cheeks. You try to swallow your scream, but it wants to burst from your lungs, you grunt and whimper until you can bite down on your sweatshirt, letting the material muffle your shout. Your gaze fixates on your hand and even in the darkness of the night, you see blood oozing from the deep cut, from your own torn flesh. The urge to retch is strong.

You palm is plunged back into the cool water, in hope of easing the pain.

He calls out your name right behind you.

You crawl out of the water, running from him, just as before. It doesn't matter how many times you trip, fall, stumble. It doesn’t matter how your fresh wounds end up in the mud, you don’t have it in you care about the pain or the looming threat of an infection. You hear him trying to reason with you. You must come back home, you’re injured, you’re bleeding. He must take care of you.

Why are you running? Where could you go? Who’s going to help you recover?

No, you mustn’t let your determination crumble. But oh… it sounds so easy. Giving in to your hopelessness.

An evergreen bush becomes your shelter to collect yourself and check on your wound, which is aching from all the dirt and is still bleeding. Water is dripping from your hair, your clothes are soaked, makes it easier for the cold night air to bite into you, to shake the whole length of your body. Your fingers are hardly moving and have no strength in them. The adrenaline is starting to wear off. You feel alone, small, and vulnerable. You’re freezing, scarred and aching. All the things you see in the dark twist into creepy, threatening forms. Everything that surrounds you is suddenly dangerous. As a lonely spider crawls within your field of vision, you flinch. The world around you is evil and everything is after your flesh.

And the only person who can save you is the one you’re running away from.

What are you going to do now? Fight, flight, or freeze? Which instinct is going to win this time? Because comprehensible thoughts won’t work on you. Every little layer of a fully-fledged human with a conscience has been stripped from you. You left them scattered everywhere in the woods. You’re nothing more than a primordial shell of a being.

Ceremonial horns wake in the distance, soon followed by howling. They let the dogs out to hunt you down. Poor, little hare. Your own stupidity has woken up the beast.

Who is like unto the beast?

You defeat the paralyzing dread and decide on flight. You dash out from the bushes, but - Oh… your eye. Your soft doe eye. There’s something in it. And your tears have an oddly metallic taste on your tongue.

And power was given him over all kindreds, and tongues, and nations.

You wish you could see yourself from the outside, but you’re probably nowhere near as majestic as you think you are. Right now you feel like you’re the fastest, stealthiest creature who’s ever lived, even if your muscles are almost torn, weak, and tensed. This is the last crumb of your strength, this is your all.

And all that dwell upon the earth shall worship him.

You don’t dare to look back. You know he’s there. He’s so close, he’s orbiting around you like a moon does with its planet. As if all of this is a dance. A hunt is a dance with a coital rhythm. And mother nature is the audience to your deadly waltz.

And he doeth great wonders, so that he maketh fire come down from heaven on the earth in the sight of men.

He takes your hand in his. Gentle and kind. To not scare you any further. You snap like an electric current under his touch, but you break free and zigzag between the trees.

He grabs your waist. Forcefully. It scares you this time. You escape from his embrace before he can swallow you whole. But he might have bit your throat during the process, you feel something trailing down your collarbones. You hear your bones crack.

It was all a mistake. You are a mistake. But mistakes can be forgiven, right? He has forgiven you so many times, you can’t even think of a number.

You slide down on a slope, leaves stick to your clothes, and you drop onto a thick trunk of a fallen oak. Tensive pain ripples in your side. You should stand up and run, but you can’t move. You won’t move. What’s wrong with you? What kind of prey gives the fight up before its last breath? But you think about your frozen limbs, the pain in your palm, your back, your shoulder blades, everywhere. You think about home… you want to go home or be left here to die. But the thought of dying here, alone, makes your heart palpitate rapidly, like there’s not enough air to fill your lungs. Your breathing becomes desperate, panicked even. Your chest hurts, your ribcage is ready to break apart by your racing heartbeat. You press your palms against your head, clawing into your hair. Every little morsel of you is bursting into a tremor. The connection between your mind, your body and the world cease to exist. And that lovely, unlimited stretch of space inside your consciousness is shaken, it’s in utter chaos. Breaking into tiny little pieces, like glass, like porcelain. Tears and plucks like paper and fabric. Shrieks and wails, rejecting the only thing that makes all creatures on this plane of existence agitated over their own mortality.

You’re doomed.

Unconsciously, your limbs curl into the very same position you took when you saw the world for the first time, protecting your belly and face, making you seem small. Geto knows you only do that when you fear what might happen to you, despite being unaware of the kind of terror your brain had subjected you to. That’s why he approaches you slowly, making no sudden movements as he picks you up gently, like one would lift a porcelain figure from the ground. When you open your eyes, he had already settled you into his lap as the manta ray curse lifts the two of you up to mount the skies.

You have no idea if he hunted you down or saved you from your own demise.

What a defiant, ungrateful creature you are, you think. You tried so viciously to run away from your burden, and now you feel safe with him again, you dare clinging to him, you dare seek his warmth. The contradicting thoughts and desires torture you on the way back. There’s only one faint voice inside your head that’s capable of calming you down, able to keep your sanity intact…

You’re the lost sheep, and he’s the shepherd who searched all over the world to find you. And he’ll bring you back to the flock, and he’ll love you more than the rest of them.

Your false god. Your fallacious savior. Will he forgive you if you repent on your knees? Until they get bloody and bruised?

Back at the temple, he refuses to let you take even a step on your own. You weren’t born to run, to soil your soles with the ground that filthy monkeys walk on. You’re meant to be worshipped, to claim the whole world as yours beneath dainty, soft feet.

The warm lamplight and the comfort of your shared room helps you unwind. To shift back into a much more civilized, humanlike state. And as you practically glue yourself to the heater, you notice more dirt, more cuts, more blood marring your flesh than you expected.

When you take off your grimy sweatshirt, shoes, and socks, Geto is towering over you. There’s nothing imposing about him, he looks rather troubled as he sighs.

“What do I do with you?”

You roll your eyes. Oh, the good old rhetorical question. He has no idea if he should treat your wounds first, bathe you or break your leg just like the Gospel says.

“Come, let me take a look at your hand.”

You see your reflection in the mirror, and you’re horrified. Your right eye is bloodshot, a deep cut is splitting through your lower lip. You’re drenched in mud, already dried on your face along with some patches of wine dark blood. Together they seal the scraped skin on your cheek, makes your hair stick together into thick strands, accessorized with pine leaves and other remains from your little hike. You’re blistered and torn, you can barely recognize yourself.

It's pleasant to rinse your hands with warm water at the sink, but the sight makes your stomach twist. That nasty wound is too deep, it has to be sewn shut. A shiver races down on your spine when you see the first aid kit. He soaks a fresh gauze pad with wound solution and guides it towards the gaping cut with a pair of tweezers. The sting is horrible, the burning sensation rivals acid being poured straight into your flesh, it makes you grunt and hiss. He gives you a moment to breathe and collect yourself then he continues, despite your whimpers and twitching, tensed fingers. But the pain pales in comparison to when he swipes a new, clean pad inside your wound, cleaning it of all the filth. A pathetic cry erupts from your throat.

“Stop.” you sob, pulling your hand away to hug it close to your chest. You’re too distressed to realize that the temporary discomfort is necessary. But maybe this whole act is nothing but another one of his silly little games.

He places a finger under your eye, close to your lashes and collects your tears. The sight of you crying is somehow not worth of savoring to him. Before any little drop of your sorrow and regret can roll down your cheek like diamonds, he smears them, as if they could make your misery vanish. Well, they can’t. It frustrates you that you can’t let your feelings manifest because he’s ready to devour them just like his curses.

He doesn’t care that your face is caked in dirt, blood and tears, he lifts your chin up to kiss you. Deeply. You’re not reprimanded for not kissing him back.

You were right, he’s definitely toying with you. He makes it hurt before he soothes the ache. He creates a connection in your mind. Like you’re the dog of Pavlov, slowly conditioned to associate him with anything that makes the human heart fill with delight.

The tiles attract your attention much more than watching how the curved needle dives into your skin, how the thread closes the wound proficiently. Your features soften for a moment. Shoko would be so proud of him... Not for the reason he got so good at it though. He learnt to treat his wounds for the sole purpose of not letting a non-sorcerer doctor ever touch him.

He’s crazy. Vile. Petty. And delusional. It drives you crazy too.

But when your stitched hand is wrapped up in bandages, you seriously think about thanking him for putting up with you. For not being angry at you.

“Maybe this will make you reconsider your actions next time.” he remarks in a flat tone, concealing what’s going on in his mind.

You keep your gratitude to yourself.

But it’s not an easy task when he continues spoiling you, with so much care that it rivals motherly love. How he rinses all the grime out of your hair, how he gives you a moment of peace in a tub filled with plain, warm water, no bubbles or scented oils to irritate your scarred, sensitive skin. He dries you, brushes your hair and fills the whole bedroom with the calming notes of lavender and cedarwood coming from the incense burners. But he’s just so fixated on your injuries… every scratch, every surface level cut is thoroughly sanitized. It’s still humiliating, even when you’re the one sitting comfortably on the bed and he’s kneeling on the floor.

You’re afraid the extra pampering will twist your reasoning and resolve. That’s all part of the mind games he plays. You know he’ll go out on his way to prove that the world outside is cruel, that this is the only place where you’re safe, loved. In his proximity, under his hand.

And somewhere, deep down, you admit that he’s close to convincing you.

It makes you mad, you want to tear him to shreds, you want to weep for him just like Mary did under the cross. There’s still care, there’s still love under all those layers of burning hatred. What remains is twisted though, but it is there.

After you’re patched up, he glances up at you, thumb brushing your lip right next to that nasty cut. His other hand is resting where your thigh and knee meet. It’s a sign, a warning.

“Was it worth it, little lamb?” his tone is soothing and playful. So close to being outright mockery.

You reflect in silence, averting your gaze from him. All those scars and discolored skin, your disturbed mind, and the ache in your bones - you realize that your stupid little plan was futile. Totally unnecessary, it’s no achievement you can be proud of. At least if you’re not as masochistic as to pride yourself on your injuries. But the fact that he can recognize the parallels coats your answer with bile.

“No.”

Because you know that you can be so much more… There’re unlimited possibilities to a repented non-believer. And now you know that being his doubting Thomas has no benefits.

Maybe you did lose your faith in him, like the lamb in that story, to eventually realize how much you need him and vice versa. But you’re not satisfied with being a lost sheep. You just haven’t decided on your role in his Gospel yet. This is your call, you don’t know exactly which part of him calls out to you, but you’re satisfied with either of them. Whether it’s a prophet, a messiah, a beast, or the devil itself. The fallen Morningstar who used to be the favorite.

This can be your true Genesis.

“Go on, break my leg if you want to. There’s meaning in that, at least.” you dare echo his last words to Gojo, clean and low.

And your bones remain whole.

You’re relieved. Though you’re sick of his maneuvers with your mind, you’re aware their purpose is not to hurt you or punish you. These aching limbs of yours go limp as he crawls into bed next to you. The arm you were scared of coils around your waist. Viciously tight, much like a snake. The snake that corrupted Eve in the garden. The one that made her sin, got her cast out of paradise, the one that turned her whole world upside down. And maybe Eve did fall in love with the serpent, the worst creature that God had ever created. But even though he caused the fall of mankind, the serpent freed you from the clutches of a jealous, ungrateful god who denied knowledge from his own creations. Now you have the passion to rebel, to prove your creator wrong, to avenge his mistreatment. Give in to the temptation of your snake, believe his honeyed words, accept the fruit for a second time. Because you still remember the taste, oh so sweet and luscious. And with all the power he wields, you can win back your lost Eden or re-build it on earth, the home you’re both yearning for. It’s a promise between the two of you, silent, because words are not needed, only closure.

Something warm blooms inside your chest. Yes, that’s it! You can finally feel it now…

The very first ounce of belief.

[toujokaname]

Matrix / Prologue

Author: Akira

Characters: Hiiro, Rinne, Niki

"Now please listen to it, Rinne Amagi's debut single...♪"

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[ Read on my site for a better viewing experience using Ois~su ♪ ]

Season: Winter

Location: Forest

A dream, or perhaps a reminiscence. Rinne Amagi's hometown, among the surrounding mountains.

Hiiro: Nii-saaan?

(...Hmm. I've followed the "marks" left behind to this point, but I don't see Nii-san anywhere.)

(Maybe I've been deceived by him after all.)

(Those marks might've been a trick to throw me off his trail, and Nii-san might have slipped away to some unknown place by now.)

(Somewhere called the city.)

(If so, it'll be difficult to track him down. I haven't been told where Nii-san leaves the village.)

(In the first place, how did Nii-san manage to leave this village, which should have no contact with the outside world, and go to the city—)

Rinne: Ta-da~☆

Hiiro: ...! Nii-san!

Thank goodness. I thought you had gone back to the city, but you're still here.

Everyone is looking for you. There's so much work to do, so many rituals to perform...

Rinne: I don't care about any of that!

Hiiro: You should care. If someone doesn't fulfill their responsibilities, they'll lose their position.

And you, the next monarch, should be no exception to this rule.

Rinne: Jeez, shut up already! Just listen! Onii-chan's gonna show you something fun, Hiiro!

Hiiro: Something fun?

Rinne: Yep! After digging through books and composing my own tunes, I finally came up with something decent!

I'm gonna show you something fun I discovered in the city!

An idol dance thingy! Heh heh~♪

Hiiro: I'm not interested. Nii-san always says whatever he wants to, but I wish you'd listen to me every now and then.

Rinne: I refuse! Just shut up and watch, Hiiro! I promise you won't regret it!

Give me a round of applause! Rookie idol Rinne Amagi's first performance is dedicated to—my one and only, most precious little brother in the world!

Now please listen to it, Rinne Amagi's debut single...♪

Hiiro: *Clap clap clap clap...?* (Clapping without really understanding)

About a decade later, right after Rinne Amagi debuted as an idol.

At Rinne's place of residence, Niki Shiina's apartment.

Rinne: Mnnyu... Keep watching, Hiiro~ Onii-chan's gonna have a blast from now on—

Niki: Rinne-onii-saaan?

Wakey, wakey. Rather, don't cuddle me while you're half asleep. You know I'm not that Hiiro person, right~?

Rinne: ......

...Yeah. Good morning, Niki.

Niki: Yup, morning~ You're still as sluggish as ever after waking up, Onii-san.

I get it... We're not really eating well, so it's hard for blood to move through our bodies...

Rinne: Don't worry. I'll earn enough as an idol to feed you plenty every day.

Niki: I sure hope so! I'm gonna start working after graduating middle school, but I might starve to death before that 'cause we don't have money for food!

Onii-san's the only one I can depend on. So pleeease do your best today to bring home the bacon~

Rinne: Yeah. I'm not planning to become an ungrateful freeloader, so I'll work hard.

Niki: Just enough's fine~ You work to eat, but if you overwork yourself to death and can't even enjoy the food, that's backwards.

Well, becoming an idol's like Rinne-onii-san's dream, right? Maybe you wanna push yourself too hard?

Is it really all that fun~? Y'know, that idol stuff?

Rinne: That I still don't know. There's so many differences between the fantasies I had as a kid and reality, leaving me depressed and disappointed.

Still, that must be what it means to be a slave of love, 'cause right now I can only see the "good parts" ♪

Niki: Gotcha. As long as you're happy.

Oh crap, the miso soup's about to boil over... Onii-san, you'll have breakfast, right?

Rinne: Yeah. Thanks for the food. My bad for always mooching off you, huh, Niki?

Niki: If you feel that way, then work harder and earn enough for me to add extra ingredients to the soup. Just with that, I'd be plenty satisfied.

Rinne: I'll definitely make you happy! Niki!

Niki: Hm? Yeah... As long as I can eat every day, I'm happy~?

Well, I don't really get it, but I'm glad to see you're motivated ♪

—Hehe. Knock 'em dead at work today too, Onii-san.

Rinne: You bet! Rinne-onii-chan's gonna give it his all in idol activities today too~!

[ ☆ ]

Directory ✧ Next →

[creators-novel]

24 hours.

24 hours was the prep time allotted to everyone. More than enough for some, next to nothing for others. Nevertheless, all of the teams had their own plans that they were putting into action. Team Lightverse, perhaps, had the most stressful time. They were the prime targets, after all. Planning escape routes, making sure the Crystals were safe, keeping an eye on their enemies, losing sleep, trying not to panic, and even convincing Nave to join up with them felt like its own battle. Plus, their reputation as heroes was already shaky. If they failed their city again, who knows what people would think of them? But, as the sun rises over the new day, the group awakens and gathers up to go over everything one more time.

Nitro starts, “Without DC, it’s a bit complicated to strategize how to beat these monsters. We have no idea when Vyz will strike again… it could be on an even grander scale, meaning more casualties.” Ex pipes up, “Get Wraith to start the evacuations now then, just in case. Don’t wanna risk lives if this fighting reaches the city. And I’ll handle the Crystals, the old man is no issue.” “Says you.”, Nave scoffs, “He could have metal replicas of any of us with him. Nothing about this is a cakewalk…” “I wanna help too!”, whines Indigo. Nave grumbles, “This is no place for you, child.” Delta steps in to defend her, “DarkClaw was our friend too!” Xenos pulls the kids back, “No, guys. He’s right.” “Why are you allowed to fight with them then!?”, shrieks Delta. “Because he’s in training.”, adds Ajax, “But this might be too much for him at this point.”

“But I can help!”, shouts Indigo.

“NO.”, asserts Nave. The other adults in the room shoot him a look.

Indigo takes a fearful step back.

“Know your boundaries, kid.”

Indigo looks to Trenity for some kind of reassurance, but she can tell her mother is focused on other things right now. (Specifically, trying not to slap some sense into a certain fox boy.)

Nitro tries to get everyone back on track, “Anyway. I’ll contact Wraith to start getting people ready… this poor city has seen too many battles.”

“You can’t save it, Nitro.”, says Nave, “Don’t feel pity for it.”

“Stop. Talking.”

…

“…Just- make sure Mom gets out ok.”, Delta squeaks. Nitro looks at the young prodigy with a sting of pity, but then he gets an idea. “You should look after her during the evacuation. I’m sure Castor will be fine.” Delta’s eyes widen, and he nods in agreement. Good. That will at least have one of the children taken care of.

It’s about mid-afternoon now. Wraith and his troops started escorting people out of the city to higher grounds not long ago, and not a moment too soon. Everyone could feel it, there was a change in the air. The more observant citizens catch a glimpse of the fledgling hero, Exisite, escorting what they can only assume is a lost child to the group heading out of the hospital.

The last time Delta saw his mother, she was asleep. She’s been asleep for a while; it’s why he’s been with Castor and the others all this time. So, you could understand his shock when he saw his mother, not in bed, but up! Awake, walking, calling out his name, looking for him! Exisite solemnly watches as his young friend returns to his mother. He feels numb during most of the interaction with her that follows, but he does smile when Delta gives him one more hug goodbye. Exisite watches them leave with the rest of the people, then looks out over the city he calls home, the soon-to-be warzone.

Meanwhile, with all the grown-ups off and about, it leaves Xenos and Indigo back at the house. Xenos sits near her but still makes sure she has her space.

“Hey, Indigo-“

“MM!?”

“Listen- I know you wanna fight… I kinda want to as well. But y’know what? We’ve got the best job out of everybody!”

“Wha?”

He dramatically flares his hands out as he declares, “We get to protect the house!”

She only pouts more. “Hmm!!... They give me no credit! I can use claws like Exisy! They won’t give me a chance!”

“Aw, Indi! C’mon…”, he smirks, “If you’re not here to guard the house with me, who am I gonna eat all of the snacks with?”

“…mmm- Okie fine, you win!”

“Heh.”

As the two hunker down, the air outside continues to change, churning with a dark presence. It won’t be long now.

[serendipitous-magic]

What is your writing advice for young people who want to write fanfiction and original stories in the near future?

If this is just Way Too Much, skip to the end (#16). My most important piece of advice is there. I also happen to think #5 is pretty good.

-_-_-_-

1) Literally just write. Write whatever you want, and do a lot of it.

_-_

2) You don’t have to post everything. In fact you don’t have to post anything. You can, don’t get me wrong, but it can be intimidating to sit down and think “I will now write something that other people will see and read and judge with their eyeballs.” Because that’s probably gonna lead to nerves and writer's block. Just write down the ideas that you have, the things you want to write, whatever’s in your brain that you want to explore and expand upon and make into something. And then if you want to, share it. Or don’t share it. I have plenty of half-baked ideas and documents and random story chapters and shit hidden away on my Google Drive that will never see the light of day, for a whole number of reasons. I wanted to write it but it wasn’t ~Spicy~ enough to warrant posting, or it’s only like an eighth of a good idea, or it’s like one scene with no story around it, or it’s just something incredibly self-indulgent I just wanted to write for my own enjoyment.

Point being, don’t write for other people. Don’t write so that other people can read it; write what you want, write for yourself, and then if you want to share it, do.

_-_

3) You can pretty much ignore any and all of these for fanfiction. In fact, you can ignore pretty much any rules or guidelines you want for fanfiction. Fanfic is a sandbox. You don’t have to be a “professional writer” to post fic. No one expects you to be Stephen King or Margaret Atwood. Fanfic is just for playing in a fandom and having fun. If you wanna write a 50 chapter slow burn with very little plot aside from the OTP slowly getting to know each other, and no real stakes or central conflict, I guarantee people would read that. Really, fanfiction is the Old West of writing: lawless, wild, unpredictable, and free.

However, here are the rules you must follow:

-Separate your paragraphs. (I’m sure you know this already, but I’m gonna say it anyway just in case.) Do not post one big block of text. Make a paragraph break when someone new is talking, when the characters are in a new place, when a new event occurs that changes the scene, when a chunk of time has passed, and when there’s a major change in subject.

-I know it’s obvious, but... grammar, punctuation, and capitalization. They exist to make writing easy for readers to read, and more people will read your stuff if they don’t have to stop and try to figure out what you meant.

-Use tags and labels, as is possible with whatever site you’re using. Especially if you include possibly triggering content in your story. Again, I know it’s obvious, but it’s common courtesy. Bonus: tagging the themes and content of your story helps readers find it and read it :)

-If possible, limit the use of all-caps and exclamation marks / question marks. 99% of the time, one ! or one ? will do. If you overload the page with a lot of all-caps and long rows of exclamation marks or question marks, it hampers readability.

... That’s literally all I can think of. And, like I said, it’s all pretty basic stuff. You were probably rolling your eyes like, “Uh, yeah, Gwen, I know.” But that’s literally it. You can pretty much do whatever you want in fanfic.

That being said, here’s my advice for both fanfiction and original work...

_-_

4) A quick and dirty rule for coming up with a plot, starting a story, keeping up pacing, or maintaining tension: figure out what dreams, desires, and goals are nearest and dearest to your main character’s heart (see #16). Then set up the main conflict to be directly in opposition to that goal. It doesn’t have to be in a tangible way, though it could be. But, if your main character wants more than anything to reach the ships on the southern coast of your world and sail to a new life, make sure the main conflict immediately prevents them from doing that - in fact, make sure to send them north. If your main character just wants to keep their loved ones safe, kidnap the loved ones. If your main character just wants to date their best-friend-turned-crush, make sure they think they have no chance - or, make them cocky about it, and make sure it makes Person B determined not to ever like them. You get it. Figure out what your character most wants, and then keep them from having that. Boom - your conflict now ties in with your character's motivation. It's like instant yeast for plots.

_-_

5) If you’re anything like me, you want your first draft to be Good, despite all that advice about how the first draft doesn’t have to be good and it’s just to get words on the page, yadda yadda. And if you’re somewhat of a perfectionist (like myself), it’s easy to get stuck looking at a blank page because you don’t have The Perfect Words, and you want what you write to be Good the first time.

Here’s how I cheat that:

Instead of trying to write a Good First Draft from a blank page, hit the enter key a few times, skip a little down on the page, change your ink to red (or blue, or whatever - just something immediately identifiable as Not Black) and just thought vomit. Write whatever the hell you’re thinking, exactly as you think it. Don’t worry about it being readable, don’t worry about narrative flow for now, don’t worry about covering all the details, don’t worry about anything except either a) getting all the details of your idea out onto the page, whether that’s a lot or whether it’s just a sentence or two, or b) if you don’t have an idea yet, finding your way there.

Because this method is also very good for finding your way to ideas when you’re stuck in writer’s block.

Because of how human brains work, getting this stuff out onto the page - in all its messy, stream-of-consciousness glory - will likely spark more thoughts. As you write your original idea about the scene, it’ll likely spark more ideas. Creation begets creation. If you just start thought-vomiting your ideas onto the page, chances are you’ll think of more things as you go, and you’ll start filling out description or dialogue or tone or action or whatever, and pretty soon the scene starts writing itself.

Not sure where you’re going with the scene or which ideas you wanna use? Use a lot of ambivalent language in your “thought-vomit draft.” My pre-writing notes are chock-full of the words “maybe,” “perhaps,” and the phrases, “At some point...” and “...or something like that.” In this way, I don’t tie myself down to one idea; it’s just an idea, and I’m keeping it on the page in case I use it, but I might chuck it in the trash or change it or whatever.

And then, once your ideas for the scene (or story, or chapter, or whatever) are on the page, then go back to the top and start translating them into a “real” first draft. Use black ink, and start copy-pasting chunks of the thought-vomit up into the top part of the document and translating them into Draft 1. Separate out paragraphs where paragraph breaks should be. Add the correct punctuation and whatnot. Change “describe the lobby here - include potted plants, fancy carpet, blood stain, etc.” into an actual description of the lobby. Flesh it out, or condense, or whatever it needs. And if you’re still stuck, change back to red ink and ramble some more until you find a path that feels right, then plug that in. This keeps you from looking at a blank page, and it allows you to generate a kind of Draft 0.5, somewhere between a plan and a first draft.

You don’t have to use every idea. Like I said, jot down whatever comes to mind, put a “maybe” before or after it, and keep working. If the idea grabs you and you wanna keep expanding on it and exploring it, cool. If you just wanna jot it down so you don’t forget it and then move on, also cool. Red-ink draft / “thought-vomit draft” is your time to jump around in the timeline, add or finesse details at whatever point your brain moves to, etc. Don’t try to do it exactly in story order, because you will get tangential thoughts and ideas, and you will not remember to write them down five pages later when you finally get to taking notes on that scene. Trust me. On that note...

_-_

6) Write everything down the moment you think of it. Seriously.

“I’ll remember it when I get around to writing that scene in a couple days / weeks / months (/years).”

You won’t.

Write it down.

Phone, journal, google docs - hell, my family regularly laughs at me for grabbing a napkin during dinner and scribbling thoughts down alongside pasta sauce stains.

And then, once you have it written down somewhere...

_-_

7) Consolidate your writing ideas in one place.

Maybe this isn’t really your style, and that’s totally chill.

Buuuut, if you’re Type-A like me - or if you tend to be somewhat unorganized and you know you’ll lose track of your writing notes if they’re scattered across multiple notebooks, journals, napkins, phone notes, etc. - having one consolidated document of notes is a life saver. I keep mine on Google Docs so I can access it, add to it, and look through it for inspiration anywhere at any time. When I have one of those Shower Thoughts that I jot down on my phone or on a napkin during dinner, I set myself a reminder on my phone to type it up in my Story Ideas document later.

(Or, if the idea I had was for a story of mine that I’ve already started planning / drafting / whatever, I put it in the document for that story instead of the Big Random Story Ideas doc. You get it.)

_-_

8) Have other ways to collect and save writing ideas, besides just writing stuff down. If you like Pinterest, make pinterest boards of your characters or stories or settings or whatever. If you’re big into playlists, make a playlist for your character / setting / story / etc. Or both. Or something else. I’m not good at drawing, but maybe you are, and maybe you like to draw your ideas. Whatever form it takes, having another way to save ideas and think about your stories is invaluable.

_-_

9) Some writers can just start writing with no idea where the story is going, and they just kind of figure it out as they go. I envy those writers. And I do that sometimes for fanfiction, where the stakes are somewhat lower and the audience is reading more for scene-to-scene enjoyment (and to see their OTP kiss) than for a Driving And Compelling Narrative.

But here’s the thing: especially if you’re just kind of starting out, writing without some sort of plan is really, really hard, and will likely lead you into a slow, meandering narrative that will likely frustrate you.

Even if you think you’re someone that just can’t write with a plan (and again, I have the highest respect for pansters out there - I don’t know how you do it, you crazy bastards, but you keep doing you) - even if you think “I can’t work with plans, they’re too prescriptive, I just want to write and see what happens -”

Try at least making the most skeletal of plans.

Even if you have no clue what 90% of the story is, yet. That’s fine. But you need to have some idea of what you’re building to, even if that’s nothing more specific than a feeling, or a turning point for your character. Even if your entire plan for everything beyond Chapter 1 is, “At some point, Charlie needs to realize that Ed was lying to her.”

This is where those Draft 0.5 notes come in handy. Because, more than likely, working on your current scene that way will spark ideas for later scenes, which you can put down at the bottom of the document and save for when they become relevant. In my experience, the line between planning ahead and making a Draft 0.5 is exceptionally thin. One can quickly turn into the other.

If you’re really, really resistant to the idea of planning ahead, that’s okay. It’s not everybody’s style. But for the love of all that is holy, write down your ideas for future scenes, even if you’re a person that doesn’t like to plan and writes only in story order, because you will not remember that idea once you get to that scene.

_-_

10) You don’t have to write in order.

Here’s the thing: I’m a person that can only do my Draft 1 in story order (meaning, chronological order). I just have to be in that flow; I need to write in story order for me to best channel where the character is at from scene to scene, both narratively and emotionally.

But my Thought Vomit Draft is another thing entirely. By using the brain hack of putting my notes in red (or another color, it doesn’t matter) and going down to the bottom of the document / page and taking notes there, and then integrating them into whatever plan I have, and then translating them into Draft 1 once I get there in the story - by doing that, I can get my good ideas onto the page (and expound upon them and let my muse carry me and ride that momentum while I’m in the moment of inspiration) without writing out of order.

Maybe that’s just me. But if you’re a person who really prefers to write in story order, that could be hugely helpful to you. It is to me.

_-_

11) Emotion and motivation will do more for your story than technicalities of plot.

If your characters really care about something, and their journey through the (shaky or weak) plot is emotionally engaging, it will be a much more compelling story than a story with a “perfect” plot and unrelatable or unmotivated characters.

If your characters care about what they’re doing, and it means something to them, and their goals and actions are driven by dreams or fears or emotions that are integral to who they are, your audience will care too. If you have a perfectly crafted plot that hits all the right beats and has high stakes and fast pacing and drama - but your characters don’t connect with what’s happening in a way that’s deeply meaningful or emotional for them? You’re gonna have a hard time engaging readers.

When in doubt, prioritize character emotion and motivation over plot. Emotion is what drives story.

This power is highly exploitable. (Just look at pulp novels and shitty but entertaining movies.) You can even use it to glaze over plot holes or reinvigorate a limp narrative. Use it that way sparingly, though. It’s a band-aid, not a surgery. 

_-_

12) Evil villains are hard to write - mostly because there are very few truly evil people in the world. (There are a few. Billionaires and several big name politicians come to mind.) But by and large, there aren’t that many evil people. There are plenty of bad people, but bad people have some good in them, somewhere in there. Trying to write an evil villain is hard, because they often turn very cartoony.

Here’s a tip: it’s much easier to write antagonists who aren’t evil. Even if they’re bad people. Of course, there’s no reason you can’t write a villain that’s just truly evil - a serial killer, or an abuser, or a billionaire, or someone who legit just wants to hurt people or blow up the earth or stay in control of an oppressed population, or whatever. But chances are, it’s gonna be really hard to make them feel real, and even harder to create a plot around them that doesn’t feel forced or contrived.

Instead, try writing an antagonist / villain whose motivations and goals directly clash with your protagonist’s - but not because they want to take over the world or see people suffer. Write an antagonist who’s chaotic good, but whose perception of the situation is completely opposite from your hero’s. Write an antagonist whose only desire is to save people, and who will do anything to achieve that goal - anything. Write an antagonist who believes in the letter of the law, and will hinder and oppose the hero’s methods even if they agree with the hero’s motivation. Write an antagonist who got in way over their head and did some things they regret, and now they don’t know how to get out, and they’re doing their best but whatever they set in motion is too powerful for them to stop now.

Write villains who are human. Write a killer who thought they were doing the right thing by taking their victim out of the equation, who vomits at the sight of the body and sobs over the grave they dig. Write a government leader who truly believes she’s doing what’s best for her people in the long-term, even if it might hurt them in the short term, and is willing to endure the hatred and belligerence of the masses if it means securing what she thinks is a better future for her people. Write a teenage bully that thinks they’re the one being picked on by the world, and they’re just fighting back, standing their ground. Write a scientist who will break any code of ethics and hurt anyone he needs to - in order to bring back his baby sister from the grave, because he promised her he’d protect her and he failed. Write an antagonist who is selfish and self-centered and capricious - because in order to survive they had to look out for Number One, and that habit ain’t about to break anytime soon.

Write villains who aren’t even villains. Write antagonists who oppose the hero because of moral differences. Write antagonists who are trying to do the right thing. Write antagonists who treat the heroes with kindness and dignity and respect and gentleness.

They don’t have to be good. They don’t have to be Misunderstood Sweethearts who “deserve” a redemption arc. They can be cruel and nasty and dismissive and callous and violent and etc. etc.

Just hesitate before you make them Evil-with-a-capital-E. Because evil is hard to write, and honestly, boring to read. Flawed human beings with goals and motivations that directly oppose the main characters’ are much easier to write and much more interesting to read.

Ask why. Why is your villain trying to take over the world? What does that even mean? Are they trying to create a Star-Trek-like post-capitalism utopia, but they know that won’t happen in a million lifetimes, so they’re trying to do it by force? Are they actually super in favor of human rights, but they got very impatient waiting for the world to do anything about poverty and war, so they decided to take it into their own hands? Are they determined to fix the world - no matter the cost? Are they terrified and overwhelmed, but committed to see it through to the end? Or - maybe they’re just doing it on a dare. Maybe they don’t really give a shit about world domination, they were just a mediocre rich white guy who decided to fuck around and find out, and now he’s kind of curious how far he can take this thing. And now he’s kind of an internationally-wanted criminal, so he’s kind of stuck living on his hidden private island in his multi-billion dollar secret base, strapping lasers to sharks’ heads for the hell of it. Gross, selfish, uncaring, and dangerous? For sure. Evil? Depends on your definition. See, now we’re getting somewhere.

_-_

13) It’s tempting to let the plot control the characters. It’s easy to drop your characters into a situation and see how they react. But here’s the thing: that doesn’t drive plot. In fact, it bogs down pacing. Instead, try to build you plot off of your characters’ actions and decisions. Let your character build their own situation. Not to say it should go they way they wanted it to go; in fact, usually, their grand plans should go to hell very quickly. But having the characters take action and make decisions, and letting the plot develop based on that, is much easier to make compelling than making a rigid series of events and then trying to herd your characters into them.

_-_

14) Having trouble justifying a character’s actions? Consider having them make the opposite decision, or having them approach the situation in a different way. For example: you need your character to go meet the bad guy, for plot reasons, even though there’s no way it’s not a trap. If the character goes, readers are gonna be groaning with their head in their hands, because c’mon man, that was really fucking stupid. But he’s gotta go, because the plot needs that. Two ways you might handle this: a) He knows it’s probably a trap. He decides not to go. The plot conspires to get him near the villain anyway. Or, b) He knows it’s a trap. But he needs to go, for (insert reasons here). So, he approaches it in an unexpected way. He brings backup, recruiting a side character we met earlier in the story. Or he arrives on the back of a dragon, because ain’t nobody gonna fuck with a dude on a dragon. Or he goes - early, and ambushes the villain. It may work, it may not. He may get himself kidnapped anyway. But it moves the plot along without having Stupid Hero Syndrome.

_-_

15) This is a legit piece of advice: if all of this sounds overwhelming, literally just ignore it and write what you want. For real. Writing should be fun, and every single writer operates differently. If you’re sitting here like “I’m getting stressed just reading this,” just flip me a good-natured bird and get on with your life. I promise I won’t take it personally. Same goes for literally any other writing advice you see. Lots of rules and guidelines can very quickly make anything thoroughly un-fun. Just write. If you’re passionate about it and you do it for long enough, you’ll start figuring out the tips and tricks on your own.

_-_

16) Here’s the best piece of advice I can give you: know your characters. More importantly, know what’s important to them. Build their personality and decisions off of that, and build your plot off of their decisions.

I see a lot of character building sheets that ask a shit-ton of questions like “What’s their most prized possession?” “Do they like their family?” “What’s their favorite food?”

And while these are good questions, my problem with this type of character building is that if you start there, with the little stuff, you’re building on nothing. IMO, to make a truly strong character (not strong like Inner Strength, strong like effective), you need a strong foundation.

Here are the things you must know about your character:

a) What are their greatest fears / deepest insecurities? And I don’t mean “wasps” or “heights.” I mean the deep shit. I mean fears like “living a meaningless life,” or “turning out just like their parents,” or “that no one will ever love them,” or “being powerless.” You may say, “But they’re really scared of wasps! They fall into a wasp nest when they were little and got stung so much they almost died!” Great! That’s a fantastic bit of backstory. They should absolutely be afraid of wasps, and that should absolutely be an impediment later in the story. But dig deeper. What about that event actually scarred them? Was it the helplessness? Stumbling around, swatting at the air, not being able to do a single thing to stop what was happening to them? Was it that they were alone, and no matter how loud they screamed, no one was coming? Was it the bodily horror of feeling themself turn into an inhuman creature as they swelled up from the stings, unable to move their fingers or face normally anymore?

And don’t forget insecurities, because those factor in, too. Are they deeply insecure about their identity? Do they believe, deep down, that they’re ugly? Did they grow up poor and they’ve always been really touchy about that? Why? Dig deep. Figure out what really, really bothers them.

b) What are their hopes and dreams? What do they truly want out of life? What do they consider the most valuable to their experience here in this thing called life? Is it the freedom to forge their own path and be independent? Is it the approval of their family or peers? Is it a home? Is it knowledge, or understanding? Spiritual fulfillment? Is it deeply important to them that they contribute to their community, or protect those they love? What do they need in order to feel truly and deeply fulfilled in life?

Figure out those two things (each one encompasses several things, btw, you don’t have to stop at just one for each), and then use that to inform how they behave and the types of decisions they make within the story. 

It also informs character behavior and personality. 

Let’s say we have a character who’s afraid of helplessness. They’re probably gonna be the person that always wants to do something, try something, no matter how hopeless the situation seems. They’d despise just sitting and waiting, probably, because it makes them feel powerless. They might even be the person that makes rash decisions and acts impulsively and puts themself in danger unnecessarily, because in their mind it’s better than being at the mercy of fate. This is one way you could use a character’s personality to inform their decisions, which in turn helps to inform plot.

Or, let’s say we have a character whose greatest fear is being left behind or forgotten. We may have a chatterbox on our hands. They might be obnoxious. They might love the spotlight, constantly vying for attention no matter the situation, because deep down they’re so afraid that they’d be forgotten otherwise. Or, it may go the opposite way. They may be so afraid of people leaving them that they’re terrified of bothering people. They don’t want to do anything that could annoy people, anything that might give people a reason to leave them. They might be exceedingly polite, quiet, accommodating. A push-over, really.

These are two nearly opposite types of personalities, both stemming from the same core fear/insecurity. You can go a lot of different ways with it. But if you build on that strong foundation, you’ll have a strong character, and a stronger plot.

Likewise, the structure of your story can and should inform the design of these character traits. If you need your characters to team up near the end, it may be impactful if you give your main character a deep fear of commitment, an insecurity about being unwanted or left behind, and make them highly value independence and freedom. That could make their team-up for the final battle very meaningful. Conversely, you can use your character’s deepest fears and desires to help design the plot. Is your character deeply insecure about voicing their opinions or taking a stand, because of trauma they faced in the past? Make them face that. Build that into the climactic third act. Give them the big inspirational speech where they stand up and talk about what they believe to be important, what they think the group should do. And then design that character arc to run through the story, giving you more handholds and stepping stones, more pieces of foundation on which to design the plot.

In this way, character should inform story as much as story informs character. It’s a feedback loop.

Bonus: if you build your character and your plot off of each other in this way, it automatically starts to build in the foundations of that emotional investment I mentioned earlier. If your character’s decisions are based on what they most want and do not want in life, you basically have your character motivation and stakes pre-built.

Note: you need to know these things about your villain, too.

-_-_-

I’m genuinely sorry about the length of this, lmao. But you did ask.

Best of luck!

Edit: I forgot an important one:

17) Start when the scene starts and end when the scene ends.

What do I mean by that?

If your notes say “Danny asks Nicole out after school and majorly flubs it,” start the scene when Danny approaches Nicole after school. Better yet, cold-open the scene on “I was wondering if, you know, you’d wanna. You know. Hang out some time?”

Don’t start that morning when Danny goes to school, unless you’re gonna cover the school day in like one or two sentences. Don’t spend whole paragraphs going through the school day, unless it’s to cover other plot points first (in which case apply these same guidelines there), or if the paragraphs are there for a specific reason, like to illustrate how stressed he is and how it seems like every little thing is going wrong. Even then, trim the fat as much as possible. Expounding and describing everything Moment-to-moment is for the meat of the scenes, not the leading-up-to and coming-away-from.

Here’s my rule of thumb: study how and when movies cut from scene to scene. Movies have exceptionally strict, limited time for storytelling; they’re excellent examples of starting a scene when the plot point starts and ending when it’s over. If you can’t picture a movie showing everything you showed, start the scene later and end it earlier.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Death By Bagel

NCT Culinary Student!Mark Lee x Fashion Design Student!Reader Summary: Mark makes a cake cause he's realized he can't lose you to some f-boy. Word Count: 3k+ Warnings: Fluff, childhood au, college au, slowish burn, slight cursing, reallllly fluffy, some broksi-dude action, typos sksksksks, etc.

R E Q U E S T my friend: mark lee, slow burn, friends to lovers

A/N: I wrote a fic that already had like 1k+ word then I LOST IT (i think i deleted it) thus this. It took me 10 years to write this msmsmkskskks. PLEASE TUMBLR IS MESSING WITH ME AND MIXED UP THE ORDER OF SOME OF THE DIALOGUE

“As a doctor, I don’t think you should be doing that,” Mark says, not even bothering to look at his patient seated rudely on the floor. Oop, he’s lying down now.

Mark huffs and looks up from the clay block he was molding on his tray, “YOU’RE SO UNPROFESSIONAL!”

Mark’s mother nearly spits out her coffee upon hearing the words of his five-year-old son. Her husband snorts, “He got that from you.”

The woman throws a look at the man and was supposed to give a snarky retort, up until the sound of the doorbell ringing. She grins from ear-to-ear and dashes to get the door.

When she comes back to the living room, she’s accompanies by another woman and a tiny version of her.

“Markie! Say hello to your Auntie!” Mark’s mom calls.

Mark from the carpeted floor looks up and blinks, examining the stranger-woman and its human-ling. Mark turns to his father who was sat on the couch and receives a nod of approval almost. Mark purses his lips and waves at the woman.

The woman waves back and then crouches down to the little girl, “Baby, say hello to Mark.”

Unwilling, she shakes her head.

“Aw come on, baby. Don’t be shy. Mark over there is a really sweet boy. I knew him when he was in his mommy’s tummy, just like Mark’s mom knew you when you were in mine. You’re the same age so you’ll get along just fine.”

With the unnecessary explanation that gave no justification to the scene whatsoever out of the way, the girl was fooled into peeping up, “Hi, Mark.”

“Hello,” Mark says, not particularly interested, as his patient was still in the midst of dying in his office. He turned to his stuffed toy called Mr. Lion and attempted to stand him up once more.

At this point, the girl makes her way to Mark.

“We’ll be back in two hours, honey. Keep an eye on the children,” Mrs. Lee tells his husband who had been occupied with TV the entire time.

“Yeah. I got this,” he smiles to his wife then goes back to watching.

The bumble bee clad figure sat down to Mark in blue and watched him play.

Mark ignored her for a few seconds, needing to assert all efforts on standing that dumb toy up. Once successful, Mark turns to her, “Do you play doctors?”

Mark was then met with the same lack on enthusiasm. She hums, “I like playing baker doctor.”

All at once, Mark gasps, “ME TOO!”

It was unbeknownst to the children it was oddly specific and the chance of this happening was pretty slim.

And in a blink of an eye, excited giggles erupt in the room, as if they had been having so much fun before this scene. It was here and there the two would become best friends to the very end.

... so I guess it means the reckoning is upon us.

“MARK LEE I SWEAR TO THE FU--” “WHAT! WHAT!?” Mark laughs.

"YOU ATE MY BAGEL! AGAIN!" I growl in a loud whisper, throwing the wrapper at him and his flat head before he could think to dodge it while he annoyingly laughs.

"I asked if I could have it though!" he says, fully knowing his sins.

I glared at him and say lowly, "I thought you were referring to my notes, bread for brains."

Mark snorts loud enough for our teacher to wake up from his nap. Once the class notices, we all pretend to be doing something productive and Mark plays it off with a cough.

"Mr. Lee." Mr. Kim says sternly, clicking his tongue, blinking his eyes rapidly.

Mark finishes coughing and turns to our seated professor, "Yes sir."

"Don't go to school if you're sick and going to cause a racket with your coughing."

Mark nods firmly and Mr. Kim closes his eyes again, mumbling, "page 65 is due tomorrow."

The entire class grumbles. Mark beside me scoffs and makes a face, "Yeah, yeah, Doyoung."

I turn to him and elbow his side.

"Whatever," Mark shakes his head, "professor bunny-teeth won't hear me."

Once class ended, we both get our things and head out for lunch. We walk to our canteen, fussing over assignments, deciding we should do it together later in our mutually free period.

I groan and narow your eyes at him as we have an argument over how he hasn't finished the essay for English, "That's not the point."

"Yo Mark!" a voice calls from afar. Mark and I turn, looking for the voice, and I spot the dimpled senior, Jung Jaehyun, in a table with the rest of his squad.

I nudge Mark and point at the pale guy seated by the corner.

Mark throws him a smile and waves. I follow closely behind him as he walks over to the table. "We're going to sit with them?" I say in some sort of gasp.

"Yeah." Mark replies simply, not bothering to turn to me, "they're cool."

I knit my brows at that and nod, "Yeah I know. But I'm not cute today."

Mark stops in his tracks and throws me a confused look, "what?"

"I didn't put any make-up on today, also I'm pretty sure there's a visible stain somewhere on my jacket, I just don't remember where."

Mark scrunches his face up again, even more confused. "What? How do you... forget a stai-- that's not the point. Why do you wanna look cute today?" He scoffs and continues lowly, "hardly as if you ever look cute."

I let out an annoyed groan and punch Mark's shoulder. "Like when you panicked when Seulgi came over and asked for notes."

Mark openes his mouth, "That is so not the same! Jaehyun's a fuck bo-"

"Just shut up already," I snap and shove him forward so he'd continue walking. "Let's not keep him waiting," I add and mumble, "also I know. Dong Sicheng however is very cute."

Mark chuckles, "he's dated every girl on the dance team."

"Okay, maybe not that cute."

"Ya, Mark," Jaehyun grins and greets the said person with a high-five and chest bump. He turns to me and speaks my name with a smile. I smile back politely and wave.

I'm about to sit next to Sicheng, but Mark shoves me and so I end up sitting on the other side of the bench table with Jaehyun. I turn to Jaehyun with a small, non-awkward smile and shoot Mark a glare. He seems unbothered though.

"So, you up for a round later?" Jaehyun asks Mark.

Mark talks over me, "you know it, dude."

Jaehyun flashes his dimple smile all the stupid girls fall for. I'm only half falling for it cause I'm only half stupid. He raises his brows, "you bought the dough, right?"

This makes me knit my brows.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I really did this time," Mark mumbles quickly. "It's my turn anyway."

Jaehyun gives an off look, "that's literally what you said last time bro."

"Yo, no for real. It's in my bag, if you wanna check."

Jaehyun shakes his head when Mark begins to scramble for it, "no, Lee, it's good. We wouldn't want you friend to get dirty."

Is it just me or do you feel slimey all of a sudden?

Jaehyun then gives me a somewhat, somehow sincere smile, "so. I hear you're in fashion design."

I give a soft chuckle, "yeah. That's me."

"I could tell from a mile away. Mark looks horrible next to your getup."

I look down at my sweater and ripped jeans. Mark exclaims in protest, "shut the hell up, Jae."

I give a soft smile at Jaehyun, "don't know where that comes from but thanks I guess."

Jaehyun chuckles, "I'm kidding," he eyes Mark, "I saw your Fashion Design pin on your bag when you sat down."

"Oooohhhh, haha, okay, that makes sense."

"Ya, Jeff," Sicheng calls for Jaehyun, "it's almost time."

Jaehyun turns to his friend and nods. He turns back to me and Mark, "well, it's nice to meet you. Mark won't put a sock in it even if I beg. See you around, fashionista."

He stands and slaps Mark's back, "see ya later, broski."

"Yeah, bruh," Mark replies.

Once it's just Mark and I, I snap at him and blurt out in a whisper yell, "YOU'RE ON BROSKI LEVEL WITH JUNG JAEHYUN?!"

Mark gives me a weird face, "bruh, I think he calls the principal broski, for real."

I smack Mark, making him whine, "you know what I'm talking about, Mark! And what, are you doing drugs?!?"

He shakes his head in confusion, "Wait, what!? Who the hell told you that?"

"Uhhhhh you were talking about dough and showing up later. Sounds like you owe him money for drugs, Mark."

"??? In what universe did we even mention drugs?? Does this," he slaps his face, "look like a face of a drug addict to you?"

"A gullible idiot maybe."

Mark's jaw drops, "oh wow, okay. I'm done with this conversation." He proceeds to stand attempt to walk away. I scoff, "not on my watch bitch."

Like the true idiot that he is, Mark begins to legit run away from me, like a criminal who stole my cookies. It's embarrassing that he, a man much taller than I, could not even outrun me. I suppose I should be grateful, but this just fortifies my thoughts of him being an idiot even more.

But okay... I wasn't actually expecting this... like... Mark and Jaehyun... like... actually baking bread after school with dough Mark premade at home. Also, uh, Jaehyun looks super cute in an apron that I'm having a mental breakdown. And what's new, so does Mark.

"I can't believe you thought I was a drug dealer," Jaehyun says in a soft pout as he rolls out dough on the marble counter of his friggin large kitchen in his friggin large house. Like dang, I knew he was rich, but he's like Rich™ Rich. Rich with a golden diamond encrusted Rolex watch rich that's in a glass display rich-- wtf.

Mark wheezes in his telltale high pitched laugh as he opens a pack of unsweetened chocolate pellets, "she thought dough was some sort of metaphor or something."

"Cute," they say at the same time. Mark turns to Jaehyun in slight surprise and Jaehyun turns to me. I roll my eyes, though I feel my neck burn. I avert my attention to the scene I was sketching on my pad, Jaehyun and Mark baking croissants. I clear my throat, "I'm just making use of the single braincell between us, cause if he doesn't die falling down the stairs, he's gonna pull some idiotic stuff like baking with Jung Jaehyun."

Oddly, it's Mark that reacts to that with a, "hey!"

Jaehyun rubs his chin on his shoulder, "I also can't believe you think so little of me.'

I break a sweat but decide to answer honestly, "... ... ... You have a reputation."

"Of being a fuck boy?"

Mark loudly transfers the chocolates into a metal bowl, making the two of us snap at him. Mark makes a face, "oh gosh, sorry."

Jaehyun sighs, "well. I admit I get around, but that's only because I get dumped every time."

I raise a brow.

Jaehyun purses his lips, "nah, let's not make this weird. The croissants will be flat."

"Dude," Mark turns to him, "that's literally only because you messed up the recipe."

Jaehyun grits his teeth, "no. It's because Kun's a little teacher's pet and sabotaged me so he could get the best grade."

"No, but like Kun is really nice, he helped me with the fold techinique."

Jaehyun scoffs, "He stole me vanilla extract, Mark. Who does that?!"

"No, listen, he's cool, like, for real--"

"No, you listen, he's a little shit and--"

The two begin to bicker like a married couple, and I begin to draw inspiration form the scene to design some random sketches of wedding dresses.

I look back to the two and still can't get over the fact that I learned Jaehyun was a culinary arts major with my best friend, and that I was currently in the Jung's boojie home because I thought Mark was buying drugs from him. Not what I was expecting at all my day to go like, but I'm not mad this is how it went.

"No, no, no, no," Jaehyun says. He turns to me and points, "let's just get an outside opinion. Babe, what's your favorite color?"

"BABE?!" Mark barks.

I take a moment to reply. I blink slowly, "uhh... pink?"

Jaehyun bites his lower lip and claps his flour covered hands, "Right. Pink croissants it is."

Mark shoots him a glare and turns to me, back to Jaehyun, "she has a name."

Jaehyun nods, "yeah, and she wants pink croissants."

Mark makes a face and Jaehyun examines it, chuckling under his breath. "Wah, you two are something, huh."

No one really responds.

We began to always eat lunch with Jaehyun and his friends. It's funny cause I realized Jaehyun, although I still firmly believed he was out to get nasty with every other girl he sees, he was actually just like Mark. A total loser with a love for cooking.

"Hey," Mark says with a snippy tone.

I give him a look and suddenly receive a paper bag to my face. Mark sits on his chair next to me, as per usual. I smell the thing before I realize what it is. It's a freshly baked bagel. I perk up and smile, "Aw, you baked me a bagel?"

Mark raises his upper lip, "no. Jaehyun did."

I knit my brows, "what? Why?"

Mark narrows his brows, "do you, like, like him?"

I give him a look. I take a bite of the bagel, making Mark look at me in disbelief. I answer, "You do know I only hang with him cause you do, right?"

"Then why'd you eat the bagel then?"

"Uh, a number of reasons. 1) it's a bagel, 2) free food, 3) I'm starving, 4) it smells amazingggg."

Mark does a face, "fair. I've been meaning to ask how he does his seasoning for a while now too." He releases a breath, "and anyway, I'm pretty sure he made a bagel cause I told him you liked them. Never talking about you to him anymore though."

I look at him, "why do you talk about me so much to him anyway?"

"Uh because you're amazing," Mark says instinctively.

I feel my heart skip at that. I coo and place my hands on my chest, "wait that's really sweet."

Mark looks at me. His face begin to shift, "too bad it's a lie- haha."

I give him a look and rebut, "jerk."

"Loser."

As quickly as I found out about Jaehyun being Mark's friend, that's about as quickly as I found out he didn't like hanging out with him anymore. It's kind of a shame I never got to go back to his boojie house.

There was this one encounter I had with Jaehyun though... which was a little weird, not gonna lie.

He was waiting for me outside my Tailoring class, smiling and waving when he saw me. I Reluctantly reciprocated and walked over to him.

He releases a breath, "I've been waiting for about 20 minutes for you. I didn't know when your class would end."

I raise my brows, "you could have asked?"

"Well I would need your number for that, and that would have ruined the surprise," he pulled out a brown paper bag, reminiscing the same one Mark chucked at my face.

"I made you two this time," he smiles.

I take a moment to reply, "you don't have to make me bagels, Jaehyun."

He grabs my hand, "yeah, but I want something out of ya," he places the bagels in my hand. He proceeds to lead us off and we begin to walk down the hall.

Truth be told, it's a little scary that his ulterior motive is up in the air. Jaehyun places his hands in his pockets, "I like your dress, by the way."

I smile, "thanks. I made it."

He smiles and nods, "right. That makes sense as to why it suits you well."

I can't help but blush at that, and simultaneously feel conscious when I realize a bunch of girls in my course are looking at me and Jaehyun as we strut down the hall.

"So, what did you want, Jaehyun?"

"Well, I clearly wanted to ask you out."

"..."

"..."

Jaehyun smiles and give a soft laugh, "is it so ground breaking?"

"... Uh..."

He sniggers, "hey, you can say no. I mean I hope you don't but you can." Jaehyun leans in and raises his hands, "I won't like it, but a man should take rejection from a lady well."

I turn to him as he straightens up. I turn to the bagels he made me and bring it back to him. He laughs, "no, I made them for you really. It's not poisoned, in fact it's made with love."

I visibly react to that, which makes Jaehyun wheeze. I can't help but laugh back, "that was hella tacky."

"Worth a shot though," he says. "Good luck with Mark."

I look at him with silence and he chuckles, "ya, you can't fool me."

I'm about to retort but then Jaehyun gets called by one of the frats dudes I identify as Johnny Seo. Jaehyun does a curtsy and clicks his tongue, "see ya later babez."

"You know, I would have said yes if you didn't do stuff like that."

Jaehyun purses his lips, "no you wouldn't."

I shrug, "worth a shot though."

Jaehyun places a hand on his chest, dramatically calling, "Uh, rejection hurts, man."

Yeah, I never went to Jaehyun's boojie house ever again.

Silver lining though was Mark's dorm smelled equally as nice because of all the food he cooks, although it came with a whiff of axe body spray from his roommate, Lucas. It's cool though, he was almost never around for me to smell it in its whole intensity.

"Aite," Mark calls from his side of the dorm. I perk up from the two seater dining table they had and turn to Mark who was covering the cake he was making for his finals.

"Don't, like, peek, okay. I want you to see the cake all at once and give me your honest reaction to it. Please, like, all my lives kinda depend on it."

"How many lives do you have?"

"9, I'm pretty sure."

I stand from my seat, "not you faking your life as a cat, but get it I guess."

Mark raises a hand at me as I walk over, "can you not, I'm high-key panicking right now."

"Over what? You literally made a box of donuts for your midterms and it looked better than Misty Mreme! I'm sure your cake is hot."

"It was in the minifridge for a day. I mean it barely fit cause of all of Lucas' mountain dew."

I groan, "just show me it, Mark Lee!"

Mark whined and dashes over to me, grabbing my shoulders, "okay, but like, don't be mean about it. I swear, I might cry."

I give a sound and fake cough, "it's ugly."

Mark doesn't respond to that particular jab, "I'm serioussss. Please be kind, okay?"

I look at Mark's nervous face and give a soft pout, "Markie, please, not that I think it would be ugly, but I promise you don't have to be nervous about my reaction."

He isn't soothed by that, but he does release a sigh, "okay. So for context, Mr. Moon wanted the cake to be one or two tiers, but I went with one, cause there aint no way I'm going to the other side of the campus to freeze a two tiered cake. Then, the theme was something from your childhood, so, I, uh, thought this was fitting. The exam is 60 percent decoration, 40 percent taste by the way."

Mark gives me a hesitant look, but steps way for me to see it. I then see a heart shaped, medium sized cake in my favorite pastel pink color. By the top there's a little boy on the floor playing with a toy oven set and little girl in a bumble bee dress, holding a stethoscope. At the bottom of the cake, there were jelly letters spelling out, "I like you."

I cup my cheeks at the sight of it and feel my eyes start to well at the sentiment.

Wait... was this really happening?

Mark heaves in and out, "okay, so like when Jaehyun began to like hit on you, that sucked pretty hard because he's known for getting girls and I thought maybe he'd get you too and I got panicky. Anyway, I....... have liked you since we were kids... And... I know you probably don't feel the same way but I have to try, you know.... Yolo."

My feel my tears retract from what I hear. I rub my eyes. I turn to Mark and find his nervous face. "Did you just say yolo in your confession, Mark?"

He looks like he's about to throw up.

I can't help but chuckle and pout, "dude..."

I prolong the moment. Mark gets even more nervous as he repeats softly, "dude..."

"We could have dated in grade school all this time."

It takes a moment to register in his head.

Like, a really long moment.

I sigh, "Mark! I like you too, dummy."

He freezes and blinks. His face begins to burn. He breaks into a soft smile, "nice."

I break into a laugh.

"... Uh... So... Can I like... Kiss you?"

I snort and feel my own cheeks begin to burn, "I think you should refrigerate your cake first."

Mark snaps out of this trance, "oh shoot, you-" I give him a quick peck on the lips.

He is dumbfounded.

I feel butterflies go wild in my stomach.

"I'll wait over there for when you've fixed that."

Mark watches as I walk away, "yooo.... That's not fair though."

[sour--disposition]

Baby Steps

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harry lewis x fem!reader

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Request: Can I have an imagine where Harry accidentally gets you pregnant but no one knows your dating and you are scared to death but he is really good and it all is okay in the end and the rest of the sdmn are very supportive in the whole situation when they first find out about not only the two of you dating but also of the pregnancy. Thanks xx

I’m super open to doing a part two of this where baby w2s meets the uncles and we get super cute harry and baby fluff so lmk if thats something else i should add to the to do list

please check my masterlist to see if requests are open

They were taunting you. The two lines on the stick. It was like they were laughing at you, enjoying the turmoil erupting in your gut. Maybe that was the baby making itself known. Who knows?

What was Harry going to say? Neither of you were ready for a baby, were you? Harry’s career was only growing at this point, the sky was well and truly the limit for the Sidemen and for Harry himself. You couldn’t jeopardise that with an accidental pregnancy. It could ruin everything.

You’d been safe, you were on birth control, for Christ's sake. Yet, here you were, having a face off with 3 pregnancy tests.

You texted your best friend, Gee, immediately, asking if you could come over. She replied instantly, worrying about you but telling you to come over whenever you wanted to.

“What’s wrong?”, Gee asked as soon as she opened the door to you. She looked up up and down, checking you for damage.

“I’m pregnant”, you whispered. “I was late and I thought it was just my birth control fucking around with me but I’ve been really ill the last couple of days and I just thought that I’d take a test and rule out that silly possibility because no way am I pregnant but I am and-”

“Breathe, Y/N”, Gee told you firmly, taking your hand in hers and dragging you over to the sofa. “It’s going to be okay”, she said softly, pulling you into her arms. “Does Harry know?”, she asked.

“No, I came straight here”, you whispered. “Oh, shit. The guys don’t even know we’re together. I think Freezy does but... Hi guys I’m actually Harry’s girlfriend surprise also surprise, I’m pregnant”, you said in a put on, over the top, happy voice. “My God, my life has gone to shit, Gee”, you huffed, slumping back onto the sofa.

“It’ll be fine. It’s your body, Y/N, and it’s your choice what you do with it. If Harry is supportive, that’s great. If not, you’ve got me, and the girls and Will and his friends. Whatever option you pick, you don’t have to do it alone”, Gee told you reassuringly, running her hand comfortingly up and down your arm. “You need to tell Harry and then you can take it from there”.

Gee let you sit with her for a little while longer, letting you calm down and get your thoughts together before you attempted to face Harry. You texted him, asking if he was free and if you could come over. He replied quickly, thank God, telling you to come over whenever you wanted.

“You can ring me whenever, okay? And if you need to come here after, you don’t have to ring, just come straight over. Let me know how everything goes, yeah?”.

The drive to Harry’s was stressful. You seemed to hit every red light possible, and every driver in front of you seemed to have zero sense of urgency. You tapped the steering wheel impatiently, flicking through the Spotify playlist you’d set when you left Gee’s.

By the time you’d parked up and gotten to Harry’s front door, you were practically shaking where you stood. The nerves were wracking through your entire body. Forget butterflies, there was a whole stampede going on in your stomach.

“Hey”, Harry smiled once you’d finally knocked on the door. “Are you okay? You don’t look too good”, he said, worry written plainly across his face.

“Is Freezy here or is it just us?”, you asked, chewing on your lip.

“It’s just us”, Harry said simply, taking your hand in his and guiding you over to the sofa. Once you’d sat down, he rested his hand on your knee. “You’re really worrying me, Y/N. What’s wrong?”.

“Promise you won’t be mad?”, you asked, voice small. Harry nodded, moving his hand to hold yours. “I’m pregnant”.

Harry seemed to lose all control of his face. His mouth dropped open slightly in shock and his hand around yours slackened. “I-”, he spluttered. “I thought we were safe”, he said quietly.

“We were”, you said, voice watery as tears started to fall. “There’s, like, a less than 1% chance. I’m so sorry”, you said, voice cracking slightly with emotion.

“Don’t be sorry, don’t cry”, Harry shushed. He seemed to snap back to reality there and then. He bundled you into his arms, carefully pulling you closer to him. He gently wiped the tears off of your face, leaving his hand there to cup your face. “Don’t ever be sorry”, he whispered, leaning forward to kiss you.

“But the boys and your channel and they don’t even know about us”, you rambled. “I don’t know what to do, Harry”, you whispered into the soft fabric of his hoodie.

“It’s your choice, Y/N. It’s your body. I’m not going to force you to have a baby that you don’t want to have, but I’ll be there every step of the way if you choose to keep it”, Harry told you.

“What do you want?”, you asked him quietly. “In an ideal world, what do you want?”.

“Ideally? This would’ve happened a little bit later. But I love you, Y/N. I’ve known from day one that I love you. I want nothing more than to have a family with you and if thats a little bit sooner than we first thought, then so be it. But I’ll be here, no matter what decision we make. All I ask is that you include me. No matter what choice we make, I’m not going anywhere”, Harry said. His thumb came up to swipe at a few more tears that had fallen.

You looked at Harry in awe. “Of course I want this with you, Harry. There’s nothing I want more. Sure, a couple more years would’ve been great. But we can do this, right?”, you asked, voice wavering only slightly.

“Yeah, we can”, Harry smiled. His hand moved from your thigh to your stomach, cupping around what would become a bump in the next few months. “Hi, baby”, he cooed softly, dipping his head down to rest on your chest. “I love you and your Mummy so very much”, he hummed. A smile fell into place on your face as you let yourself bask in the soft moment for a little while.

“Do you want to tell your friends?”, you asked Harry a few minutes later.

“Yeah”, he said simply. “I wanna be a good dad to my baby and that has to start from now. I think they know I’ve got a girlfriend, but I want you to meet them properly finally. And I’ll tell them there and then about Harry Junior. If they can’t get on board, then that’s a them problem”, Harry said with a sense of finality.

“We are not calling this baby Harry Junior, no matter how great of a dad you are”.

-

You were nervous, but not nearly as nervous as when you’d told Harry that you were pregnant last week. You were sat with Harry on the sofa of his living room, waiting for the rest of the Sidemen to come around. You’d already told Cal, it was kind of hard to deflect the question when he came into the room to see Harry affectionately cradling your body and stomach.

“What if they hate me?”, you asked Harry, leg bouncing in anticipation.

“You know them already, sort of. They won’t hate you. You’re amazing”, Harry promised.

“Yeah but they don’t know me as your girlfriend or the mother of your child”, you stressed. Harry opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by a knock on the door.

“That’ll be some of them”. Harry bounced up to open the door, returning to the room followed by Vik, Tobi and Josh. “I got a text from Simon, him and JJ are down the block in an Uber”, Harry said, quickly returning to his spot next to you.

You made small talk with the 3 boys and Harry until JJ, Ethan and Simon arrived. The wait couldn’t have been any longer than 5 minutes, but to you, it felt like a life time.

Once everyone was situated around the living room, Harry gestured at you awkwardly. “So, you know Y/N”, he started, sounding unsure of himself. He was met with a round of nods and ‘mhm’s. “We’ve been together for just over a year”, Harry said bluntly.

You were surprised by the lack of surprise in the room. “You dragged us all the way over here to tell us something we all already knew?”, Vik asked, looking around at the other boys.

“Yeah, it’s not exactly a well kept secret, Harry”, Simon laughed with a smile on his face.

“Oh, well...”, Harry trailed off, blushing and spluttering slightly. “There is something else, though”, he said quietly. “You’ve said I’ve been a bit off the last week and it’s because I’ve really needed to speak to you lot about something”.

“You aren’t pulling a JJ, right?”, Josh asked with a dramatic sigh. “I can’t do diss-tracks again, man, it feels like a fever dream”, he whined. Everyone around the room let out a low chuckle and Ethan poked at JJ’s shoulder, purposefully trying to wind him up.

“No, it’s not about that”, Harry laughed nervously. Harry looked like he was trying to find the words, but he was too nervous to string any of them together to form a coherent sentence.

“Last week I found out I’m pregnant”, you said, squeezing Harry’s hand gently in your own.

The shocked faces almost made you burst out into laughter. Over the last week, it was all you and Harry had talked about and it helped the both of you come to terms with the reality of the situation. It was still daunting, but you knew that you weren’t doing it alone which lifted a massive weight off of your chest.

Shocked faces soon broke out into huge grins. “Congratulations!”, Josh beamed from the other side of the living room. “How far along are you?”, he asked you.

“I’m not too sure, I have a doctors appointment tomorrow because I need to know if my birth control will have done any damage. But I’d say maybe 8 weeks, give or take”, you smiled.

“You had a good time in Italy then, Harry?”, JJ teased from his spot in the chair, earning him a swift swat from Simon. 

Harry’s face screwed up in confusion. “What does our anniversary trip have anything to do with - Oh...”, Harry trailed off, cheeks immediately setting alight with a pinkish red blush. You couldn’t help but giggle, leaning gently against Harry’s side. “Wait, how did you know about our anniversary trip?”, Harry asked.

“Like we said, Harry. You aren’t very subtle”.

[dcforts]

[day 8: “there is no need for mistletoe.”]

“Are you guys decent?” comes Sam’s voice from the other side of their door.

“Yes,” is Cas’ reply, at the same time Dean says, “No.”

Sam pushes the door open anyway, saying “I’m trusting Cas’ common sense – “ but judging from the way his face falls he regrets it immediately.

The place is a mess - clothes, bottles and the pizza boxes he himself delivered to their room the night before cover every surface - and they are only half covered by their blankets. Cas is propped against the headboard, his hair wild and Dean’s head on his chest.

Dean is vaguely aware that it’s the afternoon but has no idea what time or for how long they’ve been in this position. There have been naps and kisses and more naps and he’s feeling too relax to have a care in the world.

He snorts softly at the look on his brother’s face.

“And that’s what you get for it, Sammy,” he says, with a lazy smirk.

Sam blushes and grumbles, “Yeah, thanks a lot, Cas,” and fixes his eyes on the wall, “Just wanted to say that if you think you’re able to get out of here, Eileen and I are going to the Christmas market out of town. Wanna come with?”

“Yeah, I dunno,” is Dean’s reply. “It’s cold and we’re kinda living our best lives right here.”

Sam winces, “Gross. Whatever. Just – if you wanna join us, we’re leaving in twenty,” he says. He may add something else but Cas has started dragging his fingers up and down Dean’s arm so he has stopped paying attention.

Only when he hears Cas’s mellow voice saying, “Thank you Sam, we’ll think about it” he realizes that the door has been closed again. 

“We will?”

Cas kisses the top of his head.

*

Against all odds, they somehow manage to untangle their limbs and stay apart long enough to get dressed. Cas does most of the work, throwing back at him pieces of clothings he finds around the room, and unsuccessfully tries to coax him into wearing a hat.

Eileen shows her surprise when she sees them standing at the entrance.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in days.”

“We’ve been busy,” says Dean and Cas is so close that it seems such a shame not to lean in and kiss the corner of his mouth when it quirks up.

Eileen rolls her eyes and signs something to Sam that makes him laugh, then says, “Yeah, I can see that.”

Dean doesn’t care enough to ask. He misses his blankets already. But at least Sam’s driving, so he can snuggle with Cas in the backseat and chase the warmth that he left behind.

*

They’ve set up the market in a street closed to the traffic and now in the cold and dark surroudings there’s a bright concentration of life and lights.

“You should have worn a hat,” says Cas as they are queuing for their tickets.

“We’re not getting into this again,” he says, wondering why there are so many people around them. Maybe it’s a Sunday, “You know what day it is?”

Cas shrugs. They look at each other for a moment then they both stifle a laugh.

Dean tries to focus on where they are and what they’re doing, but his thoughts are drown out by the lights and the Christmas songs coming from the nearby speakers, and there’s a spot under Cas’ ear that his eyes keep going back to that just begs to be kissed.

He can’t help it.

Cas tries to wiggle away and pulls down his hat.

“Sam said we need to behave,” he says, with a little grin.

“Don’t care,” says Dean, still with his nose pressed against his skin, and meets no resistance when he moves to find his mouth.

Sam chooses that moment to look over his shoulder, “I’ve got – oh, I’m regretting this already,” Dean hears him muttering as he turns around again.

*

Entering the Christmas market is like stepping into a dream. There are twinkling lights hanging above them and the vendors’ booths on each side are covered in fake snow and all sorts of festive decorations – each offering local products and handcrafted knick-knacks.

Dean doesn’t remember the last time he’s been to one of these things. Knowing that he’s there just to let go and enjoy it fills him with an excitement that he hasn’t felt in a long time.

A guy in a reindeer costume gives Cas a silver garland that he wears around his neck and they stroll down the street, pulling each other by the hand.

Sam and Eileen are a few feet ahead resolutely avoiding them because “they’re embarassing”.

Whatever. It’s easy not to lose them in the crowd when your brother towers over everyone else. He grabs their attention from time to time, waving and pointing at the booths he and Eileen intend to check out.

Dean, on the other hand, is more content to follow the smell of roasted chestnuts and candied nuts. Cas gets a bag of the latter and Dean gets to kiss the sugar from his lips and it kinda makes it up for the effort it took to go out.

From there it’s a beeline for the mulled wine booth. The drink is stronger than Dean thought and he feels light and warm in no time. He thinks he hears himself singing Joy to the World and then he doesn’t know how but all of the sudden he’s wearing Cas’ hat.

“Hey, wait a minute,” he stops in his track and points at his head, “I never agreed to this.”

“You did,” Cas laughs.

“Whe-?” he tries to say, but Cas is leaning in for another kiss and Dean decides that it doesn’t really matter.

They finally catch up with Sam and Eileen as they are about to buy a wreath with red bows and pine-cones and bells.

Eileen takes a look at them approaching and taps Sam’s shoulder to say, amused, “We shouldn’t have left them alone.”

She signs something else and Dean recognizes ‘drunk’.

"Now, this is what I call a wreath," says Dean, pointing at the biggest one on display with lights, baubles and red berries. “Sammy, we’re getting that one, right?”

“We already chose this one.”

The vendor behind the booth follows their exchange with a smile and cuts in to say, “If you buy two I’ll throw in a sprig of mistletoe.”

“No,” shouts out Sam, and then laughs embarassed, holding up one hand, “Sorry. Sorry, thank you, but - believe me. There’s no need for mistletoe at our house,” he says, pointing a thumb at the two of them. “Actually, it’s like our ceiling is made of mistletoe.”

Dean shrugs and Cas smiles, circling his waist and pecking his cheek.

“I like the one with the pop corn,” he says against his skin and Dean feels tingling from head to toe.

“We’re taking them all,” he says, vigorously slapping Sam on the back.

Sam gives a pointed look at the vendor as if to say. “See what we put up with?”, then sighs and opens up his wallet.

*

Cas is still a little wobbly on his feet as they make their way to their car.

They insist they barely had a drink, but Sam says he saw them swaying and apologizing to a pole they ended up bumping against so he’s not sure he believes them.

Dean is feeling great.

“Thank you for the wreath, Sam,” Cas says, as they fall in step with them.

Sam huffs a laugh and grabs his shoulder to steady him.

“You’re welcome, Cas. Did you have fun?”

"I had a great time."

“That’s great. If you think you can give the world beyond your room a chance again tomorrow, we’re thinking of going to a Christmas tree farm a couple of hours from here.”

"Yeah, I don’t think we can do that, Sammy,” cuts in Dean seriously, from the other side. He pauses for effect then adds, “Cas is too hot. May start a fire in there."

Sam groans and mouths “Oh my god,” as he quickens his pace to get away from them.

“This is the worst case of lovebird phase I’ve ever seen,” Eileen says shaking her head and following him into the car.

Dean snorts and slips an arm around Cas’ neck to pull his face closer.

“What is she talking about?” he asks, grinning.

Cas grins back, “I have no idea,” he says, before meeting his mouth halfway.

Sam from the car blasts the horn at them.

joining @bend-me-shape-me in doing this!

[peachyysugaa]

blood castle i. || enha 02z

♚──────────────────────────♚

♜ main pairing: vampire! 02z x gn! reader

♜ genre: hogwarts au, mystery, fluff/angst

♜ wc: 2k

♜ warnings: mentions of blood (pg13), purposefully lowercase

♜ other pairings: lisa x namjoon, slight rose x jungkook

♜ a/n: disclaimer that i don't actually ship these pairings, i just find it fitting for the story :] also kinda boring chapter but we're setting things up <3 also hearts at the end of each chapter to keep track of how oc gets along with 02z hehe lmk what you think!

♜ index: teaser | next | masterlist

♚──────────────────────────♚

i. make the most of it

"what will i do when you're both gone? jennie just left and you two are next!" you pout in your train seat as your best friends exchange teasing smiles. as you get closer and closer to hogwarts, you can't help but keep thinking about rose and lisa inevitably graduating this year.

"i don't know y/n, maybe find some friends your age?" lisa teases. you groan outwardly, tilting your head back.

rose, the ever-exemplary hufflepuff, extends her hands out to yours on the table and grabs hold of them. you stop your obnoxious groaning to stare back at her kind smile. "lili has a point, y/nie. it wouldn't hurt to branch out this year so that lisa and i don't have to worry about you."

your eyes widened. "worry?! what's that supposed to mean?"

rose lets go of your hands to cover her mouth as she laughs while lisa is losing it. the gryffindor 7th year is wiping joyful tears out of her eyes, which isn't helping your case.

you sit, pouting once again and waiting for them to explain.

"two words, y/n," lisa begins while holding two fingers up in a peace sign that you know is anything but peaceful. "you're. clumsy."

"am not!" you defied. your best friends exchange looks once again before raising an eyebrow at you. "tell me one time when i was clumsy!"

"remember that time you tried to shut a mandrake up by putting your hand on its mouth and then it bit you?" rose asks.

"oh! that was so funny!" lisa says, trying to hold back her laughter. "my favorite is when she made a lizard instead of a mini dragon in transfiguration but then it burned her eyebrows off!"

as they share your most embarrassing moments, your ears begin heating up and all you want to do is transfigure yourself into the train seat.

"i stand corrected..." you mumble out unwillingly.

"we love you, y/nie. we only want someone to look out for you when we graduate," rose says as lisa nods.

"fine, fine. i get it, moms."

"you love us."

"yea, yea, i love my two moms who come after my clumsiness all the time."

"as you should, now let's get changing. the train is almost at school."

the older hufflepuff was right. you could see the tall towers of the second home you've come to love in the distance as you glance out the window. this year may be bittersweet since the last of your friend group would be leaving you behind, but you were determined to make the most of it with them and perhaps make some new friends this year.

"i'll stay to keep our spot, you two go ahead," lisa tells you and rose.

"going to text your joonie?" rose teases. the gryffindor's ears have a red tinge at the sound of her nickname for her boyfriend.

"just go before the changing rooms fill up," she mumbles. but as you close the door to your shared booth, you can see that she has already pulled out her phone with a cheeky smile as she waves hi on facetime with namjoon who is slightly older than her and currently working as a magizoologist for the ministry.

you smile to yourself, remembering their relationship when you were just a first year. "come on, yn!" rose calls out.

you break out of your daze and see her several feet away from you. "sorry, eonnie!"

you take your hand off the handle, which you didn't register it was still on, and start to move towards her, carrying your blouse, tie and skirt. before you could reach her, you bump into a hard chest.

you hear a deep oof noise from the figure as you rub your forehead.

"i am so sorry!" you hurriedly whisper.

"you're alright, y/n." you recognize the voice and look up to see sim jaeyun from your house and year. "did you hit your head too hard?" he kindly worries.

"i—"

"yn!!" rose shouts.

"sorry, jaeyun," you apologetically smile as you brush past him. "coming, eonnie!!"

you could've sworn he said something like it was nice to see you, but you were far too focused on not letting rose wait any long. she's definitely amicable like most hufflepuffs, but like most hufflepuffs, you probably don't want to see them angry. you should know since lisa says you're already bad hangry.

it's a quick in and out of the changing room and back to your booth where lalisa waits, staring out the window and watching the castle come closer. it's like a wrestler tag team as you and rose high-five her on your way in and her way out. immediately, the two of you settle down and as you get comfortable in your seat, you notice that she's smirking with you, her eyebrow raised.

"why are you looking at me like that, eonnie?" you ask hesitantly. your fingers look more interesting picking fights with each other.

"oh, nothing," she replies, not giving up her smirk. "just wondering when you and jake were close."

"he's literally the same year and house as me. i can't go a year without a class with him."

she hums like she doesn't believe you. "really?"

"really, really."

"really, really, really?" you groan at her response as she starts to giggle.

"do you wanna talk about your crush on jeon jungkook then, eonnie?" she shuts up then and there, and it's your turn to smirk. "thought so."

"that's hogwarts' idol right there, yn. everyone likes him one way or another, so hush!"

"hush about what?" lisa asks as she slides the door open.

"nothi—"

"jeon jungkook." rose glares at you.

"ohh, rosie's crush of 6 years?" your other friend confirms as she closes the door.

"the one and only."

"you know, he and i are co-captains this year for quidditch. you should just come to our practices."

"will he even notice me? i mean..." your focus on their conversation starts to waver as you glance through the door window. outside your door is the familiar trolley witch with all her pastries and drinks, and you can't help but have a craving for your favorite chocolate frogs. you also can't help but notice the other figure with the trolley witch: the very same sim jaeyun you bumped into earlier.

"eonnies, i'm going to buy some chocolate frogs. do you want any?" you ask, keeping an eye on the figures outside your window.

"cauldron cake for me please!"

"let's have every flavor beans for old time's sakes!"

"alright," you say as you slide the door open and close. they go back to their conversation about a plot to get the hogwarts idol that you're sure is bound to go wrong.

"7 blood lollipops please." you hear jake order. you recall him having a large group of friends across different houses and different years, but for all of them to like blood lollipops is quite unheard of.

"you're not going to have all of those, are you?" you ask him, approaching the trolley.

"y/n," he greets with a smile and a shake of his head as he hands his coins to the witch. "no, my friends and i all really like them. i think i would have a headache if i were to eat all 7."

"2 chocolate frogs, bertie's beans, and a cauldron cake please," you order before turning back to him. "does it really taste like blood, or is it just to trick people into thinking you're vampires?"

jake's face pales though it's hard to see because he's already on the pale side and you're counting out your coins to give to the trolley witch. "personally, i think it tastes like cherry."

you hum as you gather your goodies together, and jake is thankful that you're not paying too much attention to how he reacted. "i'll take your word for it."

the trolley witch moves along, doing what she's done for many years and more to come. you're finally focusing on him more now that you have all your snacks and accomplished being a good citizen by paying the fees. your eyes search his face, go past his sharp jawline, and make their way to the shiny prefect badge on his black and gold robes. the prefect engraving is hard to see against the blinding gold of the hufflepuff badge, but it's hard to miss.

"oh, are you a prefect?" you ask curiously.

"yup, so don't stay out too late. i might have to write you up," he teases.

you playfully roll your eyes at him. "please, when am i not a model student?"

"i would say right now because we're about five minutes away from the castle, and you still don't have your robes on, miss l/n," he jokingly tsks at you.

"ahh, but you see, that's not my fault there, mr. prefect," you banter back.

"oh? then maybe i won't have to give you the first detention?"

"well, mr. sim, i was only taking care of my precious eonnies and buying them snacks. i paid my fees and also engaged in conversation with my fellow classmate, so i've been a little preoccupied," you acted out, playing the role of an innocent student.

"hmm.. engaging in conversation with your classmates on the first day does seem to follow the rules," he lightheartedly agrees. jake is about to add more, but his friends call out to him.

"hey, jake, what's taking so long?!"

"you'd better go take care of your friends, mr. sim," you tease. "be a good hyung, won't you?"

his beaming smile causes your heart to skip a few beats. "alright, miss l/n, but make sure not to let me catch you out of uniform." he waves before hurrying to his own booth.

when you open the door to yours, a chorus of oooh's from your eonnies is what you receive. you roll your eyes at them before shutting the door and grabbing your robe. you can see theirs were already on, the equally shining, gold head girl badge pinned on rose's robe.

"i think she'll be just fine on our own when we're gone, rosie," lisa teases as you slip your arms through your sleeves and tuck your wand in your pocket.

"just don't keep one of my prefects distracted, y/nie," rosie adds.

"so long as you aren't distracted by your head boy, rosie," you tease back.

"no way, jeon jungkook is head boy," she gasps at you.

"i don't know, but i just caught you simping in 4k!" you stick your tongue out at her as she whines and lalisa throws her head back in laughter.

"there really is only one choice though, so it probably is him," lisa affirms.

"i swear, if you two are wrong..." rose pouts.

"but if we're not, you'll get to spend more time with him and get to know him instead of just admiring him from afar like everyone else!" you console.

"well, we'll find out soon enough. we're here," lisa announces as she grabs her trunk from the top rack, helping you get yours and rose hers.

"thanks, eonnie! so glad your long legs are so useful!" you thank.

"yah! they'll be useful for kicking you too, ungrateful brat," she jokingly chastises.

"oh no, lisa eonnie is going to kill me!" you shout dramatically. "rose eonnie, save me!"

"it's going to be a long year," she sighs with a smile keeping close behind as you run off the train and lisa chases after you.

jake's expression mirrors rose's as he watches the trio run off to the nearest carriage. a crack forms in his blood lollipop as he sucks on it harder, the sweet taste of blood running across his tongue. "hyung, come on. let's get in the carriage," jungwon calls to him, his own sucker making his words slightly muddled.

"coming," he mumbles, securing his trunk and stepping into the carriage where his 6 friends wait for him.

their fangs are dripping with the blood of the lollipops.

♚──────────────────────────♚

jake: ♥ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ (lvl. 1)

jay: ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ (lvl. 1)

sunghoon: ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ (lvl. 1)

[windsource]

It’s in the Knowing (that Wishes Come True)

destiel december 2020 prompt: sledding + spn advent calendar 2020 prompt: wishes wc: ~1.4k

[READ ON AO3] 

“Dean, you had,” Sam huffs, “infinite possibilities at your disposal. And you wished for–for this?”

Dean’s a little confused, too, looking out at the mountains. Almost every inch is covered with a layer of snow, but by far, the hill they’re standing on has the thickest blanket. Dean’s feet sink into it a little when he shifts his weight, studying their surroundings.

Apart from the clearing they’re in, the place is littered with trees. Dean’s gaze follows the trunks up, until he’s looking at the sky, which is quickly losing light. He thinks he can make out the beginning twinkles of constellations, and when he laughs, a puff of frosty breath obscures them for a moment before fading off.

Then he smells it—something like firewood, he thinks, and turns towards it. Eyes still searching the tops of the trees, Dean catches sight of a thin column of smoke, likely from a cabin nearby.

A few feet away from them, a tree branch packed with snow loses its hold, and the whump of the snow hitting the ground startles Dean out of his thoughts.

“I don’t know, man,” Dean says, “It’s not like I really had a choice. I just, you know, just had this thought, I guess, and now…we’re here.”

He turns back to Sam, who focuses on Dean once more, seemingly having caught sight of the smoke too.

“I’m assuming…those have something to do with it?”

Dean’s eyes follow the direction Sam’s finger is pointing to, which is a somewhere on the ground and behind Dean, off to his left. Just at the edge of the hill sit two sleds—the old, wooden kind that seem like they’re always one good bump away from splintering into a million pieces, but somehow never do.

He chuckles, moving towards them to check them out, when Sam urgently pats his shoulder. Dean swivels around, taking in Sam’s confused—but not shocked—expression, and once more tracks his stare to see what he’s looking at. 

Dean finds himself mirroring his brother, but otherwise smiling despite himself.

“What took you so long?” He hears himself say, feels Sam looking at him weird in response. If this was his “wish,” then this only made sense—it’d just been a matter of waiting for him to show up.

Cas levels him with a stare that says ‘really?’ and Dean moves to meet him half way.

“Jackets,” Cas says, handing Dean a thick black one that looks like it’s meant for snow. Dean takes it. “And Jack,” Cas adds. With a gentle tilt of his head, Dean looks over and sees Jack, not too far away, walking briskly towards them with something small in his hands.

“You two always come out here practically naked,” Cas says, leaving Dean and handing Sam his own jacket. “And the lumberjack outfits are fine for when it’s any other season, but you do realize it’s the dead of winter, right?”

“Well, you…” Dean starts, about to tell him off for the dress shoes and trench coat he’s never seen without, except that Cas isn’t wearing them, he’s…

“Cas, is that—are those—are you wearing boots?” Sam asks, a lilt of amusement in his voice.

Cas looks down, frowning. “These are my snow boots. Dean got them for me last Christmas.” He shoots Dean a confused glance, as though Dean should be in on this, and Sam was the one acting deluded. Dean can’t really bring himself to care, too busy smiling at the rest of Cas’ outfit.

He’s about to comment on the snow pants, which are black and baggy over Cas’ lower half, but Jack makes it to them just in time, pushing something into Cas’ chest.

“You forgot your beanie,” Jack explains, and then looking up at them, “I thought you guys came out ahead of us so you could ‘get the sleds ready.’ Cas and I started on the cookies so they should be done by the time we get back.”

Dean watches Cas slip the beanie on, losing his breath a little at the sight. The thought occurs to him—when he’s looking long enough to notice Cas’ red nose and ears and cheeks—that angels don’t usually get cold.

“Hang on—you left the oven on unattended?” Sam says. Pulling his eyes away from Cas, Dean chuckles at the wild look on Sam’s face, like he’s half ready to bolt for the cabin to stop it from catching fire.

“Of course not.” Jack frowns at him like he should know better. “I charmed it with the spell you taught me. It’ll shut off automatically when it’s done.”

Sam relaxes, forcing a smile. “Right. Uh, Dean? Can we talk for a second?”

Dean follows him around to the nearest tree, which is far enough away that Jack and Cas probably won’t hear them over their own conversation (Dean thinks he hears something about hot chocolate) if they talk quietly enough.

“We can’t stay here,” Sam says, “We have to find a way out.”

Dean wets his lips, “I know, Sammy, but…” He looks over at Jack and Cas.

Sam is quiet for a second before he notes, “You want to stay.”

He shrugs. “Just…just for a little while longer. We can–we can go sledding, eh? We haven’t done that since we were kids! And then—then we can figure out a way out of here.”

Sam has a look of growing concern on his face, something Dean thinks is teetering too close to pity.

“What?” He jokes, “You’re telling me you don’t wanna see those two sled? It’s not for us, Sam, it’s for the nerdy angels over there.”

His brother manages a smile, which is a relief. “Sure,” he says gently. Dean pretends not to hear it, heading now for the sleds and waving them all over.

He pulls the sleds apart, placing them each by the hill’s edge, but not so close that sitting on them would be enough to send them flying down the slope.

“Okay,” Dean starts, “How do we want to do this?”

Dean knows the answer before anyone says it. Better stated: he knows his wish before anyone else does.

“The logical route would be to pair up,” Cas says seriously, “You and Sam have done this before, so each of you gets a sled.”

Dean feels his chest go tight with anticipation for a second, and then it subsides. He nods.

“Good idea. Who—”

“I’ll go with Jack,” Sam interrupts, a wry smile on his face. Dean quirks his lips in a smile, cocking his head to the side in a mild ‘screw you’ gesture to his brother. He turns to Cas.

“Well, hop on then Louise and we’ll sail off this cliff together,” Dean says. He waits for the recognition to spark in Cas’ eyes and he smiles—for real this time—as Cas situates himself in the front of the sled. He spares Jack and Sam a glance, amused at how Sam is struggling not to take up most of the sled with his legs, before sitting down behind Cas. 

And he stays like that for a moment, sitting awkwardly and gathering his courage, until he musters up enough to wrap his legs around him.

“I’m nervous,” he hears Jack say. Dean thinks, Me too. Sam laughs and reassures Jack that it’ll be fine.

“Okay, uh, you’re gonna have to lean back once we kick off, alright?” Dean instructs, trying to remember how to do this. 

“You promise I won’t fall?” 

Dean swallows. “Nah. I’ll hang on to you.”

“Let’s race,” Sam says. He can feel him staring and avoids Sam’s gaze. He’ll blame the tint on his cheeks and ears on the cold, if Sam ever asks. 

Dean scoffs, “You’ll lose.”

“Prove it,” Sam responds, and then he’s pushing off and leaving them in the dust.

Dean’s surprised by the laugh that escapes him, and then he’s pushing off too, and he and Cas are propelled down the snowy slope after the others.

Cas leans back as instructed. Dean’s pretty sure the guy can feel the rush of his heartbeat with his back on Dean’s chest like that, but Dean can also feel Cas’ steel grips on his legs, nails digging into his shins. 

He laces an arm around Cas’ chest, pressing him closer. “I’ve got you!” he reminds him. 

There’s a beat, and then over the sound of the wind whipping against their faces, Cas says, “I know.”

-

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[1plus1kiyoomi]

Chapter 14: Husband

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“Yeah, you should stay here. We have a wedding to plan tomorrow after all.”

“What?” You say in shock, following after Kita who already is in the house.

The house is exactly the same way when you left. The furniture are still where it used to be. Only difference is that, you aren’t around anymore. Your things aren’t there anymore. Everything in the house is only Kita’s things. The house has developed a widower’s feel while you were gone.

Passing by your room, the feeling of familiarity hits you. You stop yourself from crying, not wanting to cause any more trouble to Kita who you woke up at ungodly hour. As you reach the kitchen, the smell of alcohol reaches your nose. ‘Has he been drinking?’

“I can sleep in my old room...” You tell Kita, stopping in your tracks. Rice is already on the couch, sleeping comfortably on his old spot.

“There’s no more bed there now, you know. Did you forget that you made Osamu take all your things?” Kita reminds you as he eyes you while he continues to walk to his room. Not able to form an answer, you follow him.

Kita takes out a shirt and boxer shorts out of his cabinet and gives it you before he flops back down in his bed. You go to his bathroom and change into his clothes. It’s your first time wearing his clothing and the experience makes you forget everything you’ve been through for the past year. You’re going through that ‘i-am-a-grown-woman-but-i-feel-like-teenage-girl’ phase all over again and because of the same person.

After washing your face, you go back to his room. "Is he drunk?” You wonder as you stare at his sleeping figure. The urge to touch him is taking over you so you let it. Your fingers run through his grey hair, then to his shoulder. They stop on his chest to feel his heart beat. “I miss you...”

Shutting your eyes, you feel your heart ache and ease at the same time. You don’t know if Kita was bluffing or if he was serious about what he said, but you were. You meant every word that you said even if it was just a ramble. You were willing to marry him anytime of the day.

Morning comes and Kita wakes up first, his chest feeling heavy. He looks down and sees your head on his chest, your arm draped over his hips. His eyes squint in confusion. “That wasn’t a dream?” Kita puts the back of his hand on your forehead, making sure you are real and not a hallucination. “You’re really back...” A tear escapes his eye as he caresses your hair.

Kita moves to lay down on his side, letting your head settle on his arm. His eyes travel all over your body, taking all your features in. He silently starts crying, thanking all the stars he wished on, and every god he prayed to. He can’t believe you actually came back.

For a year, Kita tried to get a hold of you but you blocked his number. He even went to Tokyo to explain to you but he didn’t know where to find you. He never gave up on you, thus him being single again for another year. He never felt any interest towards anyone. He lived in chastity to prove to you that he really wanted you back and he was sorry.

The exact opposite of what you were doing. But he won’t be affected if he finds out, right?

Not wanting you to see him cry, he tries to leave the bed, but you hold onto him tightly. “I have to make breakfast,” he reasons, but you just press your face close to his chest.

“You can eat me for breakfast,” you joke, eyes still closed. You feel Kita stiffen from your words before he slowly pinches your arm. You jokingly wince before letting out a chuckle. “Five more minutes of cuddling then I’ll let you cook breakfast.”

“Okay...” Kita kisses your forehead, wrapping his arms around your torso. The two of you stay like that in silence, the quiet you’ve been wanting for a long time. It’s safe to say that Kita is your rest, your charging station, and your battery has been drained. You haven’t seen him for one painful year after all.

“Did you mean what you said last night?” You ask Kita, but he doesn’t answer you so you assume that he was really drunk last night. “Never mind...”

“If you’re asking about the wedding, I’m still thinking of how to propose to you,” Kita confesses, causing you to grin. You sit up, your face hovering over his.

Kita takes in your appearance and notices how you look more mature because of your haircut. Aside from your now shorter locks, he realizes that the way you speak is different from before. You have a much softer and calmer way of talking now.

“But I already proposed to you last night,” you tell him, causing him to cock an eyebrow at you. “So let’s just talk about the wedding or something.”

“Why are you so eager to get married?” Kita asks you seriously so you pout in disappointment. You were so excited from his words last night that you even dreamt about your wedding.

“I just don’t want to lose you again,” you answer, lying back on the bed. Kita moves closer to your body, snuggling his face to your chest.

“We will never lose each other ever again. I promise you that.” Kita kisses you before placing his head back on your bust. Your fingers find their way to his hair, running through his grey locks. “But there are things I want to do before getting married because I might never get to do it...”

“Like what?”

“Take risks and enjoy my youth,” Kita responds. “I don’t regret doing everything by the rules, but sometimes I think about how I should have enjoyed at the same time.”

“Isn’t that regretting?” You chuckle, ruffling his hair.

“Is it?” Kita sits up, smiling at you.

You nod. “You know, even if we’re married, we can still do the things you want to do.”

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You are so wrong. 4 months have passed, and Kita and you haven’t spent much time ever you since you started preparing for your wedding. It’s mostly Kita who processes the papers and such, since you are always busy from work. You constantly had to travel from Tokyo to Osaka because of your job. The two of you decided to postpone the wedding ceremony, but still get married in papers.

“Babe, we don’t have to if you don’t want to, but maybe we should try renovating the house?” You suggest as the two of you eat dinner.

“Sure. I don’t mind,” Kita agrees to your request.

Kita always does. He says yes to everything you want to do. Sometimes you ask him about his opinions, but he just agrees with you. He puts your feelings first before his, that there are times you feel bad about it. You’ve talked to him about it and he said that his grandmother had once told him that if he was to marry he should live by these words.

“What’s hers is hers, and what’s yours is hers.”

Kita doesn’t only apply those words in belongings, but also words. He puts you first no matter what. Basically, Kita worships you. It isn’t obsessive as most will think.

What’s stressing you is that, everyone advised you that “marriage is full of ups and downs.” But your marriage with Kita is a straight unbending 180° line. The two of you even haven’t had sex, much to your disappointment. You don’t know if it’s your busy schedule or Kita’s platonic personality that is causing this linear marriage.

“I plan to add more rooms and maybe a second floor? In case we have children,” You say your idea, taking Kita aback from the word children. He chokes on his food, so you tilt your head to the side in worry. “Do you not want children?”

Kita clears his throat before answering you. “I do. But do you?”

“I wouldn’t bring up the topic of children if I don’t,” you reply proudly and he just shakes his head. “What?”

“(Y/N), you cry when I don’t give you attention for 5 minutes. If we have a kid, I will have divided attention. Are you sure?” Kita tells you, so you start thinking about it.

“When have I cried when you didn’t give me attention?” You ask, not believing his words.

Kita deadpans at you. “Last night.”

“But I still want to have children with you!” You whine and Kita shakes his head once again. “Like my Pinterest feed is full of babies. I’m ready to be a mom!”

“I think it’s too early to think and talk about children.”

“It’s not. Please! I want a baby!”

“That’s only a baby fever. We can have one when you’re actually ready to have one.”

“But-”

“I said what I said. Let’s drop the subject,” Kita says sternly so you just pout and obey him. It’s his first time saying no to your words and you feel so hurt. You have gotten used to him babying you that you forgot how scary he could be. Hurt is an understatement of what to feel at the moment. It sounded like he doubted your readiness as a mother. How does he know about your own capabilities?

The dinner continues awkwardly, Rice staring at the two of you from the corner, probably wondering why you two are quiet. Your phone starts ringing so you check who it is and see Kise’s name shining brightly. You gulp, glancing at Kita who is staring at you with eyes asking who’s calling you.

“Kise!” You fake a chuckle, moving to your room. Kita eyes you suspiciously, wondering why you had to go inside the room just to talk to someone. “Why did you call?”

“I had a flight going to Osaka, and then I remembered you’re near Osaka, right? Wanna go out and have some drinks?”  Kise asks. Not having the heart to say no to the pure soul, you say yes. You change into semi casual clothes and then head out of your room.

“Where are you going?” Kita questions, surprised to see you all dressed up.

“A friend from Tokyo invited me to drink. Do you wanna go with us?” You smile at him awkwardly, forgetting that he’s around. You even forgot that you were in the middle of dinner.

“I’ll stay at home,” Kita replies, putting his chopsticks down.

“Can you drive me to our meeting place?” You request and he nods. He takes the car key from the drawer and heads out before you, Rice following behind him.

Kita opens the door for Rice, letting him sit at the backseat. Then, he opens the door for you, hand on the upper doorway so you don’t bump your head. He puts your seatbelt on for you as well, before giving you a soft kiss on top of your head. It’s the little things that make you fall in love with him over and over again.

In the middle of the drive, Kita speaks up. “I’m sorry for being rude to you a while ago. I know you wanted to talk more about it.”

“It’s fine...” you lower your head, not wanting Kita to see the sad look on your face.

“I’m just worried that you won’t get to enjoy like this if you become a mother. You won’t be able to meet your friends often, you wouldn’t be able to travel as much as now. It’ll be hard for you to give all of these just for motherhood. Let’s enjoy ourselves first, then maybe in the future, we can have an addition to our little family,” Kita explains his side to you, his soft voice soothing the pain you felt. He takes your hand and places a kiss on the back of it, his eyes on the road.

“I love you,” is all you can say, because he’s right. You aren’t ready to give up the life you’re living right now.

“I love you more,” Kita replies, intertwining his fingers with yours.

The rest of ride is silent, since Rice is also asleep at the backseat. You arrive in front of the pub which Kise gave you the address of. “Rice and I will go visit Osamu. Just call me when you want to be picked up.”

“Yes, babe. Thank you,” you thank Kita, giving him a peck on his lips. “You’re the best.”

“Have fun.” Kita gives you a proper kiss before he lets you get out of the car. As he sees you safely enter the pub, he drives off to Osamu’s place. Arriving at his house, he notices his former teammate’s cars parked outside. “They’re all really here.”

Kita and Rice get out of the car, then head up to Osamu’s apartment. He presses the door bell and a few seconds later, Atsumu opens the door. “Oh! Kita’s here! Mr. Married is here!” The blonde shouts and the people inside the house cheers. Rice runs inside the house, greeting familiar people with a lick on their faces.

“I thought you couldn’t come, Shinsuke?” Aran asks the former captain. Kita sits beside him on the couch, Rice jumping to sit on his lap.

“(Y/N) went out with a friend so I was able to come here,” Kita explains.

The truth is, the Inarizaki Volleyball Club is holding a reunion. Kita, as the captain, is of course invited. But the day before, he said he couldn’t come because he didn’t want to leave you alone in your house. He also couldn’t bring you along since Atsumu whined about not bringing partners because he doesn’t have one. So he rejected the invitation, but here he is.

“Want a drink?” Omimi asks Kita and the latter shakes his head.

“No. I got to drive,” Kita reasons, petting Rice to sleep.

Two hours later, Kita receives a call from you, so he assumes that you wanted to be picked up. “I have to go. (Y/N)’s calling.”

“Simp,” Atsumu teases him so Kita flicks his forehead before heading out of Osamu’s place and driving to the pub where he dropped you off.

Kita calls you, not seeing you wait for him outside. He has told you a lot of times not to make him wait if you asked to be picked up. “Where are you? I’m already outside.”

“Babe, I called you a while ago because my friend offered to drive me home. He ordered more drinks and food so...” You reply and Kita immediately feels angry from hearing that you’re drinking with a guy, and just the two of you. How the hell is this guy friend of yours supposed to drive you home when you’re both under the influence of alcohol?

“No. Let’s go home. Right now.” Kita says in a demanding voice and he hears you groan from the other line. A couple of minutes later, he sees you walk out of the pub with Kise. Being the friendly and flirty guy he is, Kise does a quick cheek to cheek with you before letting you leave him. It fuels Kita’s irritation even more.

Kita is a jealous man, he admits that and he won’t even hide it.

“Who was that?” Kita asks as soon as you enter the car.

“I told you. A friend from Tokyo,” you answered, annoyance lingering from your tone.

Kita drives back to your house really fast. The ride back home actually scared you a little bit, since Kita wasn’t paying attention to the road signs and stoplights. He is as angry as you are.

As you enter the house, Kita slams the door close, startling you. “I’m gonna ask you again. Who was that?” You roll your eyes and ignore him, annoying Kita even more. “(Y/N), you’re a married woman. You shouldn’t drink like that alone with other guys.”

“And why is that?” You cock an eyebrow at him and he sighs heavily.

“It’s because I feel uncomfortable,” Kita answers you straightforwardly, his response making you scoff.

“You feel uncomfortable because I was with a friend? Is this because of jealousy?” You snap, testing the waters. Kita bites his lower lip, controlling his anger. “You know, just because we’re married, it doesn’t mean that you get to control my life.”

Your words hit Kita like a train traveling at a high speed. While he dedicates his whole life to you, and then there you are, acting as if marriage is just dating. He feels so stupid doing everything for you, and you’re not even giving half the effort.

Ever since you got married, Kita does everything to make life easier for you. He cooks you breakfast, lunch and dinner every single day. He doesn’t put up a fight with you because he knows how much stress you get from work. He cancels plans with friends just so he could spend time with you since you barely had free time. He doesn’t even ask for attention from even if he’s dying to take you out on a date, because he knows you prioritize your work instead of him. You wouldn’t even free your schedule for you wedding ceremony.

Of course you don’t notice Kita’s pent up frustration because you think that’s just who he is. But no, he tries so hard to be the best husband to you but you’re not even trying to be a wife to him.

But today is when his patience runs thin. First, you leave him to eat alone in the middle of dinner. Second, you suddenly say you’re leaving and drinking out with a friend. Third, you allow this friend to be touchy and too friendly with you.

“You know what, (Y/N), I don’t think this is jealousy anymore. As a husband, I feel so disrespected, but I don’t think you know that because you don’t see me as one.”

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Facts:

When asked what marriage means to them, Japanese university students tend to use words like “respect, acceptance” and “caring, help and being there” while American university students tended to use words like “important, essential” and “unconditional."

Ordinary Japanese rarely had their marriages formalized or had any kind of wedding or ceremony. Traditionally, once a man began regularly visiting a woman the were considered married. Later when the man's mother considered herself no longer able to do her household chores by herself she asked her son's "wife" to move in. This occasion was often accompanied by a small party to introduce her to the neighbors.

The Democratic Party of Japan government elected in August 2009 wanted to introduce legislation that allowed married couples to use separate surnames.

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[ktheist]

CEO!JK + - prompt list - + #47 “You’re seriously like a man-child.”

“ooh, you wanna kiss me so bad.”

“you’re seriously like a man child.”

muses. ceo!jk 

genre. e2l / arranged marriage

word. 2.6k

warnings. implied smut

synopsis. your family legacy is falling into ruins. your father is on his deathbed and your mother and sisters have never worked a day in their lives. their only hope is the jeons - the family of the fiancé you abandoned.

x

it can’t be said that you know nothing of jeon jeongguk per se. for one, he was lightly nudged in your direction by his mother at the age of 6 because he’d been hiding behind her legs since the jeon’s arrived. clad in navy blue kindergarten uniform and gripping tightly onto the brown teddy bear he uncreatively called ‘teddy’, he’d stolen a glance at you for a split second and fixed his gaze to the ground.

“____, say hi to jeongguk, you’re going to be seeing each other often from now on,” your mother nudged you from behind, her voice awfully sweet in the presence of mrs. jeon and her extremely shy son.

you’d found out at 11 years old and him 13 years old, what ‘seeing each other often’ actually entailed.

“i don’t wanna marry you!” you’d screamed in his face when you were left alone by the adults.

“i don’t wanna marry a kid with snot running down her face 24/7 either.” jeongguk’s retort, though held no substance, still made you wipe your nose on your sleeve after you’d left him and locked yourself in your room.

at the age of 13 and him 15, you’d managed to escape the clutches of your family by proposing the idea of attending a prestigious boarding school in zurich where you’d spent most of your adolescent years skipping classes and crashing parties.

by 18, you wanted to laugh at your teachers’ relieved faces when your name was called to receive your diploma, marking the end of your great era in that school.

that was when your mother called you back to south korea, claiming that she’d missed her youngest so very much. but you’d continued to make excuses to stay in zurich, applying for a scholarship and getting into a local university there.

none of your friends knew anyone from home and you’d only passingly mentioned that ‘oh, i don’t talk to my family much’.

but just as you were finishing your degree, the news of your father in his death bed latched onto your limbs and had you hopping onto the first flight home.

“what do you mean? so we’re broke?” yuqi’s voice cut through the air like a knife. even her ray bans couldn’t hide her burning gaze.

to think you willingly walked into this mess of a family.

“yuqi, let dad speak,” miyeon glares.

minnie asks after a lapse of silence, “dad, what do you mean the company’s wounding up?”

your father, a man with greying hair and cheeks losing most of their fullness, stares at nothing but the ceiling, as if seeing the angels welcoming him.

“do you remember uncle jee?” even breathing seems difficult for a man that used to work out everyday at the private gym and always invited you to join in on his healthy lifestyle, “he transferred all the company’s assets to his name and fled the country. even his family doesn’t know-”

“oh, for heaven’s sake!” your mother cries, shooting up from the sofa farthest from the bed - you should have known something was wrong when a wife wasn’t waiting by her husband’s bed and took the seat that’s on the far end from her husband, “just admit that it’s your fault! you trusted him too much even though i warned you about him! you ruined this family!”

“i should’ve brought popcorns,” soyeon says from next to you, shooting you an unapologetic - heck, even entertained smile - when you craned your neck out of mild disbelief.

this family’s a little fucked up in the head.

but they call you the black sheep that got away.

“so what now? do we have to... work?” soojin asks, a horrified look spreading across her face.

those several inches nails aren’t made for work. that’s for sure.

“the jeons...,” he coughs, “jeongguk promised to help us rebuild the family business because my father - your grandfather, supported the jeons when they were starting out.”

all of a sudden, seven pairs of eyes turn to you as if you’re the rabbit in a cage full of wolves. the air turns chilly as if someone’s turned the ac to a minus degrees celcius.

“well, don’t look at me, i haven’t talked to him for 9 years,” despite your hands held up and your shoulders almost making your neck shrink into your body, all they see is a little gold piggy bank.

“what? what about the times when we talked on the phone? you sounded so close!” your mother’s source of rage shifts to you.

“well, i mean, he’s pretty active on instagram-” you couldn’t even properly finish your sentence when a hand lands on your shoulder and you’re staring into your reflection in yuqi’s ray bans.

“start talking,” her cherry lips curl as she holds out your phone that you don’t even notice she’s swiped out of your hand bag which, “hey, how did you-” you remembered was zipped shut.

x

“you got something to tell me?” the jeongguk before you wears a smirk that exudes confidence and billion dollar legacy backing him up.

no longer the shy kid that avoids the gaze of those he’s not used to and keeps his head hung low. if anything, his chin is looking too tilted for your liking. though you can’t say the same for the muscles that fill out his suit and wraps around his biceps a little too snug.

he’s finally foregone the side swiped bangs and grew it enough to have it tied back into a man bun, enhancing his sharp jawline and proving once and for all that puberty isn’t just for anyone.

the hesitant hum reverberates against your chest. you can only hope that it’s not audible for persons besides yourself, “you look great.”

his head drops as he chuckles but you can still see the way his jaw clenches, cutting off every humor that’s ever present before looking straight at you through his lashes, “can’t say the same for you.”

you resist the urge to shoot up, handle of your handbag tucked in the juncture between your arm and forearm and strut out of the restaurant without looking back.

“that rotten attitude of yours hasn’t changed i see,” allowing the smile to sneak up your face, you feel your nails digging into your palms underneath the table, rooting you back to your reason for being here.

“it’s the thinking you’re better than me for me,” he states, back leaning against the chair.

“oh, baby, i am better than you,” the words escape your lips as naturally as breathing does.

“i don’t know about that, i certainly wouldn’t bring an on-and-off boyfriend of mine to a restaurant where my potential clients usually go to,” there’s a gleam in his eyes.

but before you can dissect the meaning of his words, the sight of a familiar jet black haired man trudging from toward your table with a distorted expression and waiters hurrying after him from a few steps away - catches your attention.

“___! baby, i’m sorry!” if you look closer, you could see the tears welling up in his eyes when he spots you.

“eric,” the hiss under your breath is venomous, threatening, “what are you doing here?!”

“i’m here for you, baby. i realized you’re the only one for me,” he drops to his knees, pulling out a velvet red box from his pocket. the waiters that were chasing after him now freezing, looking at each other back and forth before eric proclaims his undying love and his desires to, “i don’t want to live a life without you- marry me, baby!”

“stop,” you say curtly, body involuntarily leaned forward to make sure your voice reaches him. the sight of a smirking jeongguk adds to oil to the flames growing inside of you, “stop it. you’re acting insane, right now.”

“...i promise, i’ll never cheat on you again...” eric goes on, tears freely streaming down his cheeks as his shoulders sag, “i even tattooed your name on my chest.”

the italic curls of your name is inked in black a few inches underneath his left collarbone, probably where his heart is supposed to be. but at the moment, all you can see is jeongguk’s leisure wine drinking, “oh my god, security. please, take this man away, he’s disrupting lunchtime.”

the two waiters seem to snap out of their initial trance, marching over to eric and gripping his arms with all their might before dragging him away at the manager’s instructions. it’s only then, do you notice the flash of camera from one of the tables on the farthest left side of the restaurant, its position allowing for a full view of your expression and possibly only a view of jeongguk’s back.

“you,” a whisper slips out of your mouth once you’ve assured the manager that everything was settled and you’d continue eating, “you planned this.”

“what an assertive deduction. i almost thought you would’ve missed it altogether,” he remarks, a look of pure awe spreading across his face.

“fuck you, jeon,” slamming your fist against the table, you slip out of your chair and march out of restaurant, fully aware of the eyes that follow you until you’re out of sight.

x

no word got out.

sns was oddly silent about the incident at the restaurant but your sisters know anyway. shuhua knocks on your door, fixing you one of her calming smiles before dropping the bomb.

“mother and elder sisters don’t know, i’m not gonna tell them but i think it’s better if you talk to jeongguk about it.” is what she suggests.

but she doesn’t know he was the one that orchestrated it, as if your life was a show and he was there for a good time. either way, to ease your sister’s heart, you make your way to jeongguk’s office.

he made you wait for a good two hours, having his assistant retell that he’s busy and can’t be disturbed at the moment. but once you’ve had enough, you barge into his room, nails digging into your palms at the lack of meeting partner and the man’s too casual appearance with his blazer draped over his recliner and his sleeves folded up till his elbow.

“i heard you were in a meeting,” you announce, making sure to glare at the secretary that stopped dead in her tracks when you managed to slip past her and through the door of jeongguk’s office.

“as you can see, i’m quite busy,” he nods, hands gesturing at the open mac in front of him.

“what are you playing at, jeon jeongguk?” a smacking sound echoes through the air as you slam your palms on his mahogany table, glaring down at him “because i swear to god, i will make sure you regret messing with me.”

but instead of the panic you hope to raise, a chuckle trickles out of his lips, “ooh, you wanna kiss me so bad.”

how the prettiest pairs of lips could smirk like that is beyond you. natural pink lips, curving deviously as his bunny lips peek innocently underneath. you don’t notice you were staring until his voice fills the silence, forcing you to tear your gaze away from those kissable lips and meet his gaze.

“you really do wanna kiss me,” there’s that gleam in his eyes - that of realization and something - something - you can’t pinpoint.

gone is the boy that used to tell you your pigtails are lopsided and proceeded to fix it for you - he made it worse but you didn’t really mind because it was the effort that counted.

but that was almost a decade ago.

“you’re seriously like a man child,” you shake your head, the initial reason of marching over to his office now shoved to the back of your mind. the last thing you want is to be in the same room with a man who seems to only be interested in making someone else’s life his own personal entertainment.

but before your fingers brush the metal handle of the double doors, another hand brushing on top of yours, feather-light fingers pleading for you not to walk out on him.

“i’m sorry,” he doesn’t sound like the jeon jeongguk you’ve come to know within the short span of time - like a man stripped off his cards and games, “i went too far.”

you don’t - can’t - say anything but your body isn’t exactly listening to your mind’s instructions to move out of his grasp. out of his presence.

“i didn’t know the reporter was there - i made sure he’s keeping his mouth shut after you left,” his breath is hot against your neck and his front brushes against your back but not really touching.

“why did you do it? why did you bring eric all the way here?” you pray to thank the stars for the strength in your voice despite the feeling that’s slowly disappearing from your knees.

“i found out  you guys broke up because he cheated.. i wanted to make sure he knew you were mine,” his clicks his tongue, “i didn’t know you dated such a psycho-”

your world spins for the briefest moment before you come face to face with a wide eyed jeongguk.

“first off, you don’t own me,” you announce, arms coming to cross over your chest in show of protest, “and second off,” the semblance of surprise and panic finally slips through his facade when your hands grip his collar, “kiss me.”

the last thing you remember is jeongguk nodding ever so slightly before his eyes flutter shut just miliscends before yours. you feel his arm band around your lower back, free hand digging into your hair and pulling you closer into the kiss. he tastes like mint and lemon candies that your nanny used to give you and you’d give it to him, saying something like “it’s my favorite candy but i like you so i’ll let you have one”. you don’t miss the small jar he keeps on the side of his desk full of those candies.

but the matter of this and getting married in order to save your family from falling into ruins are two different matters altogether.

and somewhere down the line, you find yourselves still arguing about the littlest of things.

“um, what do you mean that red roses aren’t romantic? it’s literally the symbol of undying love,” surprisingly enough, it’s jeongguk that’s fighting for the fiercer shade of the petal.

“you think fuchsia pink doesn’t symbolize love?” you roll your eyes.

then comes the time when your mother and magically healed father asking for a grandchild to which jeongguk grins, “we’re working on baby jeon.”

(you’re married and the petals themed in your wedding are both fuchsia and garnet)

“excuse me?” you turn to him, brows arching. that alone warrants a break of cold sweat on jeongguk’s forehead as he cautiously laughs.

“i mean, w-we’re not ready yet.”

rather, you’re not ready to forego your child-less phase in exchange for late night awakenings and learning cry-languages.

but you’re not exactly being careful either, what with the two of you finding the holes in time to slip away from your family and into your childhood room only for jeongguk to slam you against the wall and bend you over the vanity.

“jeongguk did you bring a condom?” you ask.

“i’ll pull out,” is all he says and you’re barely listening as you clasp your palms agaist your mouth, trying not to let out the moans pass through your lips.

when you go back to your family, jeongguk’s arm is around your waist and you both sit together as you joke and laugh with your sisters whilst jeongguk raises a glass to joining your dad at the gym.

x

note. hope yall enjoyed!

see drabble game! for how to request!

[createandconstruct]

can i ask about amarant coral? the monk in red himself~

Can you ask about Amarant Coral? *cracks fingers* Oh I insist that you do. Welcome to my Amarant Appreciation Post:

favorite thing about them: First off best thing about Amarant? His theme. The percussion and the guitar. It’s great and it captures him so well. People out here like “take Amarant out of the game he adds nothing.” EXCUSE ME? You remove the Amarant you remove the Amarant Theme my friend and that is something I do NOT vibe with. 

least favorite thing about them: I wanna know more about him. Now Amarant doesn’t need a backstory or history in the game. In a sense, he already has one that connects him to Zidane and explains his motives and actions and eventual arc. But my issue is, Square never gave him anything else. If you look at Ultimania there’s additional lore about other characters, like Steiner for instance. You learn Steiner was a war orphan who was saved by the Pluto Knights - explaining his devotion to them. Amarant though? Square was like “uh... yeah he was born....? And then he uh got famous...? Idk then he met Zidane. You figure it out.” Square. I hate you. 18 years from his birth until he became “well known”. WHAT WAS HE DOING. WHY’D HE BECOME A SECURITY GUARD. WHAT WAS ON HIS RESUME. TELL MEEEE. Like, okay, what the actual in-game canon gives us on Amarant is sort of enough. He’s a purposely written mysterious “cool-guy” character so we’re given scraps to make him unknown but come on. In the published after-game canon, like Ultimania, we could have been given a bit more. He says he doesn’t remember anything about his origins or parents, but why. Was he another victim of Gaia’s wars? Probably. Was he born on a battlefield? Fighting for his life, living without comrades, taking scraps whenever he could? Was he betrayed when he was young? Is he a supposed to be a version of Zidane had he not been adopted into Tantalus by Baku??? These are questions I deserve answers to, Square.

favorite line: “’I can't just walk away. It goes against my nature...’ You're a real simpleton. Forget it, guys. There's no stopping this fool." I love this. Amarant figures Zidane out pretty quickly after Ipsen’s Castle. Zidane is hardheaded and also an actor. He acts cool and pretends his reasons for doing things are loose but when he’s decided something it’s always for a reason. You don’t need a reason to help people, but Zidane has his reasons for helping Kuja and while Amarant doesn’t give two shits what they are he knows Zidane won’t be stopped because, despite everything, Zidane saved a loser like him. Also this line “Tell me! Why didn't you kill me!?" Because I quote it all the time and it makes myself laugh. Amarant is such a drama queen and Zidane knows it. Zidane’s like “dude... what is your damage, it’s 5 pm on Tuesday in Madain Sari. I ain’t getting blood on my gloves cause you’re having a temper tantrum.” And then Amarant runs away to have an existential crisis. He’s 26 but compared to Zidane, he’s the real teenager with angst.  

brOTP: I could talk about Zidane or Freya with Amarant but instead I’m gonna say the underrated dynamic of Amarant and Eiko (and also Vivi).  Amarant with the kids is truly the greatest gift given by his presence in the game. Amarant has never known true suffering until he became a designated legal guardian of a group of minors. It also kills me how he’s the one to volunteer to carry Eiko and Vivi up the Iifa tree. He looks at Zidane and is like “you have seriously been the ‘adult’ of this group???”

OTP: Gotta say the Freya and Amarant dynamic. I really enjoyed their unlikely friendship in the game but then the content. The fan content. The Freya x Amarant fans out there, you win. Ya got me. You captured me and I am now imprisoned by their banter and begruntled allies to lovers story. Even if they’re not romantic I love them together and really wish the game gave us more of them. But even Lani and Amarant together are valid, though I prefer them as butting head bros. Not much content for my girl Lani out there either, she deserves more.

nOTP: Nothing I can think of. I tend to like platonic pairings for Amarant. The dude needs friends because he can barely define the word friendship.

random headcanon: Before Zidane returns at the end of the game Amarant wanders around a bit, unsure of what to do. He doesn’t feel any place with the others in Alexandria, Burmecia, or Lindblum. I imagine he goes off on his own for a bit like before but this time he’s not after Zidane or a fight. Instead he’s got no particular destination. Yet he somehow always finds himself running into people just like him - or the old him - friendless lonely people who are looking for a fight. He doesn’t go out his way to find these folks he simply runs into them and decides he might as well knock some sense into them. He does however make it his business to go after any murmur of people hatching any ideas of going after the far off little village on the Lost Continent. The home of the genomes and black mages. They were so helpless, so weak that anyone who’d want to mess with them is pathetic in Amarant’s book. Until Zidane returns, no one has the chance to even look at the Black Mage Village the wrong way because in the shadows Amarant lurks, making damn well sure of that.

unpopular opinion: I kinda love that he’s just there for most of the game? While I agree he gets the short end of the stick in the same way as Freya, not receiving additional individual character spotlight (which could have very well been supplied through discoverable lore in the world/npcs or through sidequests) I never considered his “standing off to the side” as a detriment to his character. 

Many would probably agree that Amarant always felt like a bit of a parody of the loner character, or at least the stereotype of the loner character. Amarant is so easily paralleled with Squall and Cloud’s surface-level attitudes because his dialogue always felt like something to poke fun at. As the player we’re supposed to align with Zidane’s way of thinking and how he views Amarant. When Amarant loses to Zidane and pretty much grits his teeth and goes “KILL ME,” along with Zidane we’re supposed to kinda raise our brow at him and go “...really, dude?”

 Amarant’s a character introduced as an antagonist who has more in common with the power hungry villains of the game. Like many of the characters in FFIX, Amarant is in search of purpose in life, which he has never found, because he was always looking in the wrong places - in places of violence and power. Very toxic-masculinity of him. Amarant is “cool” on an aesthetic level but in reality he’s the polar opposite of cool in terms of what FFIX states about the need for others to be intertwined in your experiences so that you can live a full life. 

I sort of love that he’s like a grumpy pitball following a 16 year old and his friends around. Then he sits in the corner when they all meet up and discuss current events acting like he doesn’t care (not to mention he casually walks as everyone is running as fast as they can to escape Terra - made me laugh cry on my first playthrough) He is “just there” but that’s because he has no where else to be, no where else to go, he’s a man without a home. And until Zidane offers his hand, at the point where Amarant is most willing to take it at Ipsen’s Castle, he’s not truly a party member. He IS an outsider for almost the entire game but at Ipsen Castle he joins the party, becomes a comrade, and decides he’ll allow himself to change paths and start a life where he has friends and lives, as well as fights for them. Which is why after that moment, Amarant finally has a victory pose.

song i associate with them: I was scratching my head for so long trying to think of a song or track that had Amarant vibes until it hit me. Outskirt Stand by Tsukasa Tawada (from Pokemon Colosseum). Amarant is so chill, he’s not a bombastic guy, so he needs a theme that drops me in the rocky open desert of the Lost Continent like I’m just lumbering around looking for a monkey-tailed menace. Some other Amarant tunes:  Pyrite Town, The Under, Snagem Hideout tracks from Pokemon Colosseum. This post is just an elaborate call to action for everyone to listen to the Pokemon Colosseum soundtrack. Tsukasa Tawada is so great and he has a YouTube. Check him out.

favorite picture of them:

Yoshitaka Amano’s Salamander Coral. I love him. He had too much power. 

Also everything drawn by @crispy-ghee. Everything. I will think of this Comic forever until I die. Tattoo it on my flesh. The banter, the dynamics, the post-game content, the Zidane prince-consort outfit, the new Amarant outfit, the stuck-in-the-same-place relationship him and Freya have. Perfect. Go read it and consume Crisipy’s stuff. And also check them and their current art out, they just consistently get better and better. Here’s a first panel preview of my fav comic. Read it.

 @hannahlady​‘s Amarant art and their Freya/Amarant art is just ugh. *Chef’s Kiss* Here is another preview because you should go look at it.

Here’s a piece that deserves so much more love by @snackage. I LOVE how they drew Amarant. Here’s a little preview. It’s SO GOOD

Anyway TL;DR: Amarant is love and life and you’ll have to pull him from my little gremlin hands.

[akeijies]

word prompt: iridescent

plus, to make you feel better,,,

add jean

anyways hi lovely how ARE you?? i’m bored and in a slump too it’s okay it’s not forever!!! but!! know that i’m cheering for ya!

experiencing color ( jean k. x reader )

warnings: nsfw for the last blurb, minors dni pls ! mentions of collars/leashes and choking

notes: unedited as hell im so sorrily brain is mush rn please forgive me- i had a hard time thinking of something for this but it kept my brain going so thank you!!

la vie en rose

“you know," the words are barely into the air before jean's thumb stops scrolling through his phone, tilting his head back to you silently telling you he's listening. he's so attentive. "i secretly think you’re a softie.”

jean scoffs before settling back between your legs, back pressed to your front. "i'm not a softie- what would make you say i'm a little baby softie?" he's gone back to tapping through his phone, but when you don't answer him he nudges your leg to bring you back, waiting for your response.

"you're looking up floral arrangements," and you can already hear his 'that doesn't make me soft' so you follow up with "and i never said 'little baby softie' unless you know," your fingers card through his hair and push it back to give you a space to place a soft kiss, "you wanna be my soft little baby."

a little laugh slips through your lips at the way jean seems to tense up yet melt against you and if you weren't so tuned into him you would have missed the low embarrassed mumble of 'i haven't sent my mom flowers this month yet'.

you wanna pepper his slowly reddening cheeks with kisses and your heart stutters at the way his ears turn as red as rose when he rushes an "and i already am your baby."

hestia

jean turns his key in the door and slowly pushes it open. he pulls you into the apartment and you're completely overwhelmed with the feeling of home and safety. you don't want to touch anything, feat that you'll somehow ruin this perfect sanctuary he has for himself.

squeezing your hand, jean guides you over to the couch before prompting you to sit. he disappears and returns minutes later with a hoodie and blanket, holding them out to you.

when you don't make any move to grab them, jean sets them on the couch a quick "hold on just a second" before disappearing into his room again.

your eyes fall to your hands in your lap, they're fidgeting with each other, wringing and pulling- only stopping when jean puts his hand over yours, crowning your head with a kiss so soft you barely feel it.

there's a moment where everything gets really quiet, your heart beats steadily in your chest; soft but still there. it's the complete opposite of the way your blood sped through your veins like cars on a track. it was overwhelming and so exhausting but it's quiet now, the only thing being heard between the rests of your heartbeat is jean's "you're okay" against your temple.

it's safe now.

24K

"why an anklet?"

you almost laugh at how bad your timing is- or at least you would have laughed if the next thrust jean sent into you hadn't knocked air right out of your lungs, leaving a whine to linger in between the space between you both.

jean doesn't even bat an eyelash, so used to your antics. "you're mine" you should be used to hearing him say that but it still makes your body go warm and your cunt squeezes around his cock. jean's breath stuttering at the feeling of you tightening around him before taking in a gulp of air, "'nd i just needed everyone else to know that." he says winded, he's slowing the rhythm of his hips just enough to get his sentence out.

"put me on a leash then," you tease, a chuckle sliding past your lips. you're not exactly sure what's gotten into you, and you think maybe you won't have any coffee outside of your designated coffee hours because those words have no business being as funny as they are.

your laugh quickly dies when your eyes meet jean's, his normally warming, sweet brown eyes are completely black and there's a smart dancing on his lips. he looks as if he's about to devour you, it sends shivers all over your body and makes you wanna cover yourself because you can tell he's looking straight through you.

"you would like that, wouldn't you?"

he clearly isn't looking for an answer because he picks up his thrusting again, pumping into you with new vigor and your legs wrap around him to take it all because you can.

however, you can't help the way the moans are tumbling out of you, or the way your eyes flutter shut when jean's hand comes to rest on your throat and he tightens his fingers, like he was mimicking the way your walls clenched around his cock. you're so focused on the way his tip kisses your cervix, and the way it unravels you from the inside out.

you're startled at jean's breath against your ear. "if you had a leash, you'd have a collar- and if you had a collar, where's my hand supposed to go?"

maybe it's the way he says it like he knows the answer is that his hand belongs around your throat, it could be anything really- as long as it was jean. but regardless it has you falling apart at the seams and you're engulfed in the feeling of him and the pleasure you're quickly losing your senses to.

[hotdamnhunnam]

Suck It Like You Mean It

Part 1 of The Prospect & The President

A/N: Here’s the start of a 2-part series with Jax and a gender-neutral reader, based on the below requests​! *The idea is that this fic can be enjoyed from the perspective of any reader, with no reference to gender-specific features.* Anyone reading as a woman can just imagine that SAMCRO admits women! (hard to believe, I know, but hey this is fanfiction 🙃)

Pairing: Jax Teller x gender-neutral reader Warnings: smut, swearing, dirty talk, dom!Jax, humiliating hazing process, face-fucking and ball-sucking (in Part 1), anal sex (coming up in Part 2) Requests: Request 1 (+ follow-up) and Request 2 from @malethirsty

Word Count: ~2.9k

Note: Anyone reading as a woman can just imagine that SAMCRO admits women! (hard to believe, I know, but hey this is fanfiction 🙃)

So you just drove through town tonight stark naked on your bike. You knew the hazing process would be criminal, to join Redwood Originals, but you had no clue this is what it would be like. By now you’re pretty sure that prospecting for SAMCRO was the stupidest mistake of your entire goddamn life.

“Gave Charming one hell of a view, didn’t you,” the President taunts, as you throw all your clothes back on. Seeing you mortified like this is just what he wants. And to make matters worse, he’s such a fucking flirt, always looking at you like an object of thirst.

Taking a drag of his cigarette, Jax playfully pats the top of your head. “C’mon—you weren’t completely naked...” he says, amused that this task got you so damn upset. “We made sure you wore your helmet. Safety first.”

“Did your ass ever have to do that?” you snap, not afraid to start sassing back at him in front of the rest of the crew. “Tell me, Jax. You must’ve had the easiest time ever, back when you were an initiate. Born into the patch. Bet that birthright took you straight from member to VP to President. You know it’s true.”

He shrugs. Quite clearly doesn’t give two fucks.

You shoot him a resentful glare. “Just doesn’t seem fair. All the shit you put me through...”

“Fair? Ask me if I care,” he snickers. Rakes his fingers through his rich blonde hair. “So what—you wanna see me naked, too? Who knew?”

Ugh. But of course you do. And yes, of course he knew—everyone does, because your crush on Jax is so painfully obvious. The way you turn to mush, whenever you’re together, makes it clear that you’re a slut for Mr. Teller.

“Tell you what: I’ll do you one better,” he offers, stepping closer to surround you in the scent of smoke and leather. “Not just see me naked... maybe I’ll be generous with this big dick of mine and let you touch it. Taste it.”

...um. Excuse me, Mr. President?

His snicker darkens as he sees your bottom lip twitch. “Know you want to, bitch. Just face it.”

“J-Jax, you can’t be serious...”

But of course he is. Blowing a wisp of smoke from his delicious lips, he stares into your eyes and reads all the desires you’ve been trying to keep hidden. “Do you think I’m kiddin’?”

Oh, holy fuck no. He most definitely isn’t.

As you realize that the bastard isn’t joking, your whole throat contracts to swallow down that fact. Dying to swallow all of Jax. You’re fucking choking.

The room falls silent as he reaches for his belt buckle. The tension in the air between the two of you boils over, fucking crackles, as the President takes your initiation process just a step further...

“You want the patch?” he asks, blue eyes piercing and savage, fierce as bloody murder. “I promise this’ll put you on the fast track. Move you up the pecking order.”

Jax is unfastening his belt... then unzipping his fly... and you’re about to melt, to die, whole body aching with the worst thirst you have ever felt. A hopeless puddle of arousal. You cannot think straight at all.

Still with his cigarette in one hand, he reaches the other hand into his unbuttoned pants, now as he issues his command. “All you gotta do is suck my dick and balls.”

Ugh, holy hell... he acts so nonchalant and natural, makes it sound so casual. It’s really not, when you’ve been dreaming of this more than words can tell. You try to brush it off with an exasperated eye-roll. “You are such a fucking asshole...”

“Yeah, what else is new? Being an asshole’s part of being presidential,” Jax reminds you, with a wicked smirk that slices you straight through. “Now just shut up or else I’ll make you lick that, too.”

Oh God. At least he has got to be kidding about that. You should be so disgusted by the thought, of such a nasty act—yet somehow when it comes to Jax... you’re not? Christ, why is he so fucking hot...

Now that the President is really getting down to business, his VP wisely decides this isn’t something that the other Sons should witness. Chibs lets a whistle out and beckons everyone to head toward the exit. “...‘ey, let’s split. Reckon the rest of us got no reason to see this.”

Most of the men are in agreement. One resists.

No surprise who it is; Chibs hollers back at the sergeant. “C’mon, Tig.”

Before he reluctantly heads out with everyone else, Tig lingers to make one small request. In silence, with a not-so-subtle snapping gesture of his fingers, hoping Jax will read his lips. Since he’s the only one who’d have the nerve, to ask for this: Take pics?

Jax reacts with a laugh and a shake of his head. “Fuck off, perv,” he rejects as he puts out his cigarette. “Know you’ve already seen my dick. Caught you staring at it in the bathroom so often it’s sick.”

Tig won’t try to deny that, though he does have something to add. “Sure, seen the President’s big stick... but not Y/N sucking it.”

Fuck this, you think. Already burning up with shame just at the thought of what—of who—will soon be going down: you, on the motherfucking king. You’re not about to do this thing, if anybody else is still around. And so you cross your arms over your chest with an indignant pout. “If he doesn’t get out, I’m not letting your dick anywhere near my mouth.”

The President quirks up his brows, quite amused and a little aroused, at the sight of you putting your foot down. To him it’s hilarious seeing you take a stand, when he is clearly the one in command. 

At least in this instant, his own preferences align with your demand. “Well, you heard Y/N,” he tells the sergeant. “Get the fuck out, Tiggy. Now.”

Jax spoke that last word in a loud, threatening growl that has Tiggy obeying all too quickly. Hauling ass out of the clubhouse.

And at last you and Jax are all alone here in this room, just you and him. Your poor heart pounding like a drum. So damn turned on that one more word out of his mouth will probably make you fucking cum...

Jax knows it. Knows the force of his presence is already taking you over the edge. And shows it. Gets off on exerting his power like this, such a natural-born alpha male dom. His big dick energy is so raw, and so rich, it drops your jaw and strikes you dumb. “Why aren’t you on your knees yet, bitch?”

Well, there it is. Of course those are the words this dirty bastard says. Your underwear’s a mess. What little was left of your dignity just shattered, and the worst part is... it doesn’t even matter. Honestly couldn’t care less.

You lose all sense of feeling and control over your own damn legs. Instinctually kneeling down before the Pres. Helpless to do anything else, because he is a living breathing god of sex.

“How long you been dreaming about this?” he teases, smirking down at you as he eases his jeans down his hips.

At the promise of Jax Teller’s dick—so delicious, so big... you’re unable to keep your tongue from hanging out over your lower lip. But he stops just before you can hope to catch a precious glimpse of the tip, sticking out through his boxers. Wicked motherfucker.

He laughs down at you as your breathing starts to splutter. Humiliating and degrading you like none other. “Answer the question, cocksucker.”

You try to act as if you have a little fight left to resist... resist all this, although you both know that is blatantly untrue. Of course you don’t. The words escape you in a filthy little groan. “Fuck you.”

“Mmm, fuck me? Yeah, bet you’ve been dreaming of that, too,” Jax taunts as he suddenly grabs your head, pulling your face toward his crotch roughly. Rubbing your face on the denim. The feel and the smell of him... God, every damn thing about him is knocking you dead. “If only you’d be so lucky. You should know it’s a privilege just to suck me.”

“Yes, sir,” you answer, too far gone to try to pretend any longer. Sighing in pleasure, as you let yourself surrender to your hungers. “Yes, I know...”

“There we go. Finally some honesty from my cocksucking hoe,” he snarls, as he pulls down his boxers and jeans, releasing the object of all of your dirtiest dreams: his huge cock and his heavy balls. So proud and powerful and presidential. He fucking beams, knowing you’re gonna take it all. “Now go on and blow your way into SAMCRO.”

You moan in bliss, leaning forward to lock your lips around the tip. Swirling your tongue along the slit, to lap the luscious bit of precum leaking out of it, so desperate to devote your mouth to taking every precious drop that drips...

Jax grunts and bucks his hips—he obviously knew that you were thirsting for this dick, but had no clue you would be this enthusiastic.

You can’t be any other way when his dick looks and tastes like magic. Your reaction is orgasmic. Popping your lips off of the tip with a loud slurping sound, you take a second to throw your head back, just to soak in his mind-blowing flavor, to take it all down. The sweet flavor of Jax. Made to be fucking savored. You reach up toward his massive dick and wrap your hands around, unable to believe your luck.

“Ugh, Jesus fuuuck...” you groan in ecstasy, obsessed with him like crazy. Practically cumming already. Just one taste and you’re addicted to his cock.

Jax seems to be digging this too, blue gaze dark with arousal as he towers over you, loving the view. The look in your eyes and the lust in your voice... he gets off on seeing and hearing how much you enjoy being his little fucktoy. On knowing your mouth is about to get fucking destroyed. So completely and utterly fucked. Seeing you down on your knees, so damn eager to please, has him hard as a rock.

He’s so big it’s a motherfucking joke. Just the sight makes you want to choke, and you can’t wait to have him buried in your throat. 

With his enormous girth encircled in your fists, you slurp another drop of precum off the tip, licking your lips, and start to stroke. Using your hands to warm up, till you’re all set to deepen the blowjob. To guzzle and gag as you swallow him all the way back. “Holy shit, Jax—I can’t believe we’re doing this...”

“Better fucking believe it,” he teases, gloating in the fact that your fate is now sealed as his cocksucking bitch. For so long you’ve been dreaming of catching just one precious glimpse of the President’s dick; there is no going back now that you’ve finally seen it. Especially not with the words that he says right this minute. “Suck it like you mean it.”

His wish is your goddamn command. You would do anything for this absolute god of a man.

On the instant, you drop both your hands, to start cradling his bulging balls... as you gape your mouth wide, taking his throbbing cock deep inside... going straight for the goal to devour him whole, till his dick hits the core of your soul, getting off on the thrill of it all. His grip tightens around your skull, holding you firmly in place. There is no time to waste. You need Jax to start fucking your face, dominate and degrade you in all of the dirtiest ways...

And he does. Fast and rough, just the way that you love. Jax has secretly always been wanting this too, ever since he first met you. It’s your face he sees every time he jacks off.

Now it’s your face he sees as he splits it in half with the force of his thick veiny shaft. Driving into your throat till you gag, moaning as he feels the muscles of your mouth contract, swallowing hard to feed your thirst, cheeks hollowing around his massive girth, milking his cock for all it’s worth, until he fucking bursts. Groaning and gulping all around him as you strive to take him further back, ‘cause you can’t get enough. You’ve never been so fucking stuffed... but the cockslut inside you won’t be satisfied till he fucking erupts, filling you up.

“Jesus Christ...” he sighs, throwing his head back and closing his eyes. Struggling just to hold back the tides. If he dares to look down now and meet your adoring gaze, honestly might explode just at the sight. God, his balls are already so full and so tight...

At the thought, you recall that his orders had also included you sucking his nuts. And you have to obey your god, no matter what. That’s your role, as the President’s slut.

Jax’s grasp on your head has weakened, for a second, as he tries to focus on holding himself off from blowing his load. So you suddenly take the chance now to remove his huge dick from your dirty whore throat. Drop your mouth toward his balls, to suck on them just as you were told. 

You start slobbering over them one by one, servicing them with your tongue. Loving the way he smells and tastes, rubbing them sensuously all across your face. He looks down at you now as you gaze up at him with insatiable lust and passion, hoping desperately that you are serving your king to his satisfaction. You most certainly seem to be, judging by his intense gasping reactions.

“Holy fuck, Y/N... so good... oh God—so fucking hot...” he grunts, gripping his dick as you keep worshiping his balls with your slick tongue, biting his lip as you take both of them inside your mouth at once. It’s no secret that he’s been with hundreds of whores, but there’s no mouth or cunt he’s ever fucked before that’s been as mind-blowing as yours. You’re taking him up to heaven with this face-fucking, ball-sucking blowjob. “Ugh, such a perfect little slut... giving me everything I want... don’t fucking stop...”

Grabbing onto his muscular thighs for dear life, mouth stuffed full of his nuts like a good little slut, you look up, to deliver a silent reply with your wide open eyes. A promise of submission to Jax Fucking Teller: Yes, sir. Won’t stop ever. I live for your pleasure. Won’t stop serving you till I die.

By now the President is riding high, and needs your mouth back on his cock to suck him dry. You’re both so horny you could die. He looks so fucking hot like this, so gorgeous you could cry—strung out and openmouthed, breathless, his golden hair a goddamn mess, loose strands falling to frame his flawless face, as he stares down at you with his blazing blue gaze.

He explodes just as soon as your lips wrap around him again. And it’s literal fucking heaven.

“Fuuuck, Y/N...” Jax euphorically groans as he blows his huge load, shooting rope after rope of his thick creamy cum straight down the back of your thirsting throat. Holding you close, fucking crushing your nose, smushing your bottom lip up against his balls, as you drain every drop out of them just to swallow it all. All your senses are flooded with his luscious taste and his rich musky scent and the sound of him screaming your name. You’re officially Jax Teller’s cocksucking slut and have no fucking shame. 

At some point your hands ended up in your own pants, in these last few moments. Your mind is so lost that you’re not really sure when it happened, but from the wetness in your crotch, you know this much: he’s definitely not the only one who came.

Once he’s finally done, you just cling to the hope that this wasn’t all some sort of game, just for fun. For the sake of humiliation, as a part of your SAMCRO initiation. Surely that had been Jax’s intent—but now, given how everything went... will he still be determined to pretend? How can the two of you go back to being nothing more than friends? The lowly little prospect and the high and mighty President...?

A knock at the door interrupts your thoughts all of a sudden, followed by a familiar Scottish voice. “Ye done in there yet, Jackie Boy? Urgent club business just came up. Needs your attention.”

Jax swipes his palm over his sweat-beaded forehead and clears his throat. Meanwhile yours is still deliciously coated with all the cum you’ve swallowed. Still kneeling in your position of submission, still in love with his perfection...

“Y-yeah, we’re done,” he stammers out, swiftly sliding his softening erection from your mouth. Pulling his jeans back on. Pats the top of your head, the way he does so often. Maybe you could take it as a gesture of affection, yet somehow right in this moment, it just makes you feel like nothing but his filthy little pet. His dirty little whore. Of fucking course.

Before he heads toward the door, to tend to more important work, the President flashes you a smirk, and finishes this business with four words. So cold and short it fucking hurts. “Thanks—that was fun.”

And then he’s gone.

***************

... Continued in Part 2!

Hope you enjoyed this, and would love to hear if you did! ✨

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[avengerscompound]

Until the End of the World - 16

Until the End of the World: A Captain America Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Word Count:  1645

Rating:  E

Warnings: Angst and PTSD

Synopsis: Four years after Steve and Bucky got to the bottom of the HYDRA conspiracy that had led to you and your son being hunted for the first three years of his life, you, Bucky, and Steve have carved out a nice life together.  Things are calm and you feel like a family unit.  When Geo starts calling Bucky and Steve ‘dad’, a decision is made to try and add to your family.

Things aren’t as calm as they seem.  When your pregnancy hits the papers, HYDRA rears its head once again, and Steve and Bucky need to track you down to protect the family they had created.

Chapter 16

Bucky was beginning to feel hopeless.  Steve’s orders to Sam and Tony about looking for a cloaked van, had come to nothing.  Every van, small truck, and bus that Sam and Tony had scanned had shown nothing suspicious.  All the roadblocks they had set up came to nothing.  No cars coming in or out of the city were carrying either you or Geo.  You, Geo, and whoever it was that had snatched you had just vanished.

It was clear from the people that had been arrested at the scene that HYDRA was back.  Not that Bucky had been surprised.  He’d been in that organization for decades, it would take more than a raid on some drug factories to flush them out.  Unfortunately, the HYDRA agents that had been taken captive had mostly activated their cyanide pills, and those that hadn’t weren’t talking because they were much more concerned by what Viper would do to them than about any of the Avengers.  Steve and Bucky had both been banned from questioning any of them because of how close they were to the issue and Bucky wished Steve would do something to force them to be allowed.  Bucky understood HYDRA and he knew HYDRA understood him.  He’d only need twenty minutes and he knew he’d be able to get one of them singing like a bird.

Bucky had no idea what could have happened to you though.  Three options seemed most likely but he had no way of checking without breaking his orders and if he did that, it could mean the government would step in and have him arrested too, because if the Avengers can’t keep the Winter Soldier in line, then he was still a threat.  Yet, every minute that ticked by where you and Geo were still missing, he felt closer to just breaking orders anyway.   He knew HYDRA - and the way he figured you had either been moved off the island by helicopter or boat, you were being kept somewhere in the city with a private garage, or you’d been taken underground.

The worst part was Steve was ignoring him.  The pain Bucky felt from that was almost physical.  Like something had been torn out from his chest.  He wanted something - anything - to help him deal with this loss.  Comfort from his best friend and lover.  Orders to go follow through on.  Permission to question the prisoners or to look into his own leads.  Anything to make him feel less alone and useless.

He spent the night and most of the morning in the apartment waiting for Steve to come home or send for him.  He’d ask FRIDAY to make sure Steve knew he was waiting for orders and that he wanted to help.  He even called up Hill and asked her if there was anything he could do - and nothing.  All he was getting was dead air.  By lunch, he went to speak to his therapist.  He’d been listened to and in the end told that if he wanted to do something, he should go and confront Steve.  So he went straight up to the command room and stalked inside.

Tony was moving from one computer screen to another moving things around and tapping away on the keyboards.  Steve looked up when Bucky came in but his attention went straight back to the file he was looking at.

“Tony,” Steve said, without acknowledging Bucky.  “Can you do a scan on the city, see if there are any suspicious underground structures?   Maybe if we compare it to a public works map…?”

“You’ve got it, Cap,” Tony said and typed something into the computer.   “Will need to do a couple of adjustments on the Legion, but it shouldn’t take me too long.”

When Steve continued to ignore him, Bucky stalked over and leaned against the desk beside Steve, folding his arms over his chest.  The lights flickered in the building and Tony looked up.  “FRIDAY, what was that?”

“Brief power surge from outside,” the AI replied.  “I apologize, sir.”

“Just… don’t let it happen again,” Tony said.

“You just gonna ignore me?”  Bucky asked.

Steve sighed and looked up.  “I’m sorry,” he said.  “It’s not you…”

“Yeah?”  Bucky said.  “Kinda feels like it’s me.”

Steve stood up.  “Let me know if anything pops up,” he said to Tony.

Tony looked up for a second.  “About time you took a break,” he said.  “Go on, I’ll keep watch.”

“Thanks, Tony,” Steve said and nodded to the elevator.  “Let’s talk.”

Bucky followed Steve to the elevator and leaned against the back wall.  “I lost them too, you know?”  He growled.

“I know,” Steve said, his eyes dropping to the floor.

“So what?  I gotta lose you too?”

The electricity flicked again and the elevator stuttered.  Bucky instantly went on edge, his mind immediately going to an attack.  Steve looked up and furrowed his brow.

“Sorry, Captain Rogers,” FRIDAY said, quickly. “We don’t use the city’s power supply, but we’re linked into it and feed excess power to the grid.  There seem to be intermittent surges from an outside source that are affecting our supply.  I’m working on a fix.”

“Thank you, FRIDAY,” Steve said and turned his attention back to Bucky.  “This is my fault.  We’ve lost her because I became complacent.”

The doors slid open onto their floor and Bucky followed Steve down the hall to their apartment.  Steve hadn’t been back since you were taken and Bucky noticed his eyes lingered on the coffee table where Geo’s Lego was still laying out.  Bucky could picture what was going on in Steve’s head because he’d been thinking the same thing all day.  ‘What were the chances that you and Geo were still alive if all they needed from you was your DNA?’

“So what?  I don’t even get to help?”  Bucky asked.  It snapped Steve’s attention back to him and he shook his head like he was trying to clear it.

“I just feel so guilty,” Steve said, making his way to the coffee machine and starting to fix a pot of coffee.  “You should hate me.”

Bucky frowned and stepped up behind Steve.  He wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist, gripping his hip with his flesh hand making sure his forearm pressed along Steve’s stomach.  The metal hand he pushed against Steve’s chest, holding him tightly.  “This isn’t your fault.  It’s Viper’s fault.  We both thought she was safe.  Even she thought she was safe.  Stop punishing yourself,” Bucky whispered, his lips brushing against Steve’s ear as he spoke.  “But more importantly, stop punishing me.”

Steve turned and looked at Bucky.  “I’m sorry… I’m not…”

“You think you’re blaming yourself?”  Bucky interrupted.  “I’ve been willing something like this to happen since we first got together and every new good thing that happened I was waiting for the other shoe to drop.  I never thought I’d get to have this and I was waiting for the rest of you to be punished since I got here.  And now they’ve been taken - by the very people who had me and used me as their own personal soldier toy.  I know… logically that what’s going on has nothing to do with what happened to me - but Steve - I also know that it’s everything to do with what happened to me.”

Steve frowned and took Bucky’s hand.  “Buck…”

Bucky pulled his hand away and shook his head.  “And since we got back, you’ve been avoiding me so now I have absolutely no doubt it has to do with me.  Because if it wasn’t my fault you’d have asked me to help.  So I’ve been sitting here, hoping that you’ll at least give me something to do because you’re sure as hell not going to tell me it’s not my fault or lean on me for support when I’m to blame.  And then when you wouldn’t even use me as a weapon - when I know HYDRA better than anyone else - I went to therapy.  The therapist told me to come to you and tell you how I felt.  So here I am, Steve.  I know this is my fault even if it isn’t and I need you to use me.”

“I’m sorry, Buck,” Steve said and pulled Bucky close, wrapping him in his arms and holding him.  “I’m sorry.  I should have at least kept you in the loop.  I am so afraid right now, and I never feel like that.  I am always so sure about every choice I make and I’m terrified and I feel useless.”

Bucky nuzzled into Steve’s neck and held him too.  “I wanna help,” Bucky said.  “Let me go interrogate someone.  I know how they work.”

Steve nodded.  “I think it’s about time we both go make that happen.  I warned Viper of what would happen if she threatened my family.”

Bucky let out a soft puff of air against Steve’s neck.  Almost a laugh but not quite and coming from a place of relief more than humor.  “Well... we better make good on our word.”

Bucky very slowly pulled back, as he did, Steve leaned in and kissed him.  Bucky flinched at first, not quite expecting it, but soon melted into the kiss, first matching the tender caress of Steve’s lips and then tilting his head and deepening it.  There was something to the kiss that wasn’t usually there.  A need that had nothing to do with sex or passion, and everything to do with a need for affection and support.

The lights flickered again and then seemed to flash, first three long times on and off, then three short, and three long again.

Steve and Bucky both pulled apart quickly and looked up.  “FRIDAY?  Was that…?”  Steve asked.

“Sir,” FRIDAY replied, sounding very uncertain for the AI that usually knew everything.  “I think… I think Geo is sending us a message.”

// NEXT

[ohmyasmodeus]

𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘤 ♡

𝐭𝐰; 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦, 𝐬𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 

𝐭𝐰; 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦, 𝐬𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 

i actually want to thank you for sending in this request! i know it’s a sensitive topic but i’ve struggled deeply with self harm in the past and being able to write these as a request was pretty cathartic. i really hope you’re doing alright, anon, and just know that you’re never alone in your struggles ♡ i also want to add that you never know what triggers someone may have, so please add a trigger warning when you send in requests like this to me or any other authors ! thank you !!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

♡ 𝘭𝘶𝘤𝘪𝘧𝘦𝘳

✧   You think he doesn’t notice, that he has better things to worry about, but he notices. Lucifer sees, and is… surprised. Horrified, and rightfully so. It’s highly uncharacteristic of you. Throughout the months, you have proven your capability and you continue to time and time again, going above and beyond to resolve issues between the brothers and in the Devildom. You are a strong person, and someone he wouldn’t have expected this behaviour from.

✧   But even the strongest can fall. He knows it all too well.

✧   “If there is anything I could do, anything to improve your experiences at RAD or in the Devildom as a whole, tell me. I don’t like seeing you in pain.” Lucifer takes your hand ever so gently in his, raising it to his lips to kiss your knuckles as he gives you the softest look. “I’m here for you. Tell me, my love, what’s weighing on your mind?”

✧   You won’t find your razor blades or penknives ever again, that’s for sure, and Lucifer makes it a habit to convince you to tell him how you’ve been feeling because he worries so much that it’s almost painful. Lucifer wants you to confront your problems head on. He helps you keep track of your milestones with beautifully handwritten calendars and brings you out on special dates to celebrate your weeks spent clean.

♡ 𝘮𝘢𝘮𝘮𝘰𝘯

✧   Mammon is around you 24/7, so there isn’t a lot you can hide from him. Even when you try to isolate yourself or get away to give yourself an opportunity to self harm, Mammon ends up either finding you or blowing up your phone until you give in and let him find you. He panics when he finds out. He panics hard. At first, he worries about Lucifer kicking his ass for letting this happen, but he finds himself completely distracted throughout the day with his worry for you. He can’t get you off his mind.

✧   (We all know he went through your room and found your stash. You’ll never find it again after how hard he panicked.)

✧   Surprisingly, Mammon speaks to you about it of his own accord. “Hey, so…” He looks away and shoves his hands in his pockets, uncomfortable with the pressure he puts on himself. “I’m your first man, and that means ya don’t keep any secrets between us. I wanna be there for you, so you should tell me when anything’s up, or just… come to me if ya wanna talk. Or anything. It would suck to have you all sad all the time, I prefer it when ya smile…”

✧   You end up having to coach him a bit on how you want to be comforted, but he readily supplies all the affection and reassurance you need. Mammon is endearingly worried about fucking up and it makes you smile. Everything he does makes you smile, really, because he works hard at cheering you up and making sure you’re too busy with his stupid antics. But at the end of the day, he’s there to give you a squeeze and patch up your wounds to try and help.

♡ 𝘭𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯

✧   PANIC.

✧   Levi is much worse than Mammon. He isn’t experienced with emotions or dealing with real people in the slightest, so when he sees a hint of your fresh wounds, bruises, or any of your gloomy thoughts, his first instinct is to panic. Without thinking, he grabs your arm and asks if you’re okay, telling you to stay still while he gets some bandages!

✧   “You can use my Ruri-chan bandaids! And, um,” Leviathan bites his lip nervously, and you watch as he plasters your skin in more cutesy band aids than you really need. “I’m sorry, I hope it doesn’t hurt too badly… But are you okay? Like, really okay on the inside?”

✧   He’s much more empathetic than he gives himself credit for. It makes him uncomfortable in the beginning, the thought of you hurting yourself and hurting so much, but he quickly mans up and makes himself someone you can easily go to for support without even noticing. He knows the feeling of being alone and not feeling like he’s enough all too well, so he does his best so you can avoid feeling the same way. Levi is always the one coming to you with brilliant new ideas for self harm substitutes, giving you colourful bands to snap against your skin, or trying to massage you to make the urges go away (until he gets too blushy to handle it, at least).

♡ 𝘴𝘢𝘵𝘢𝘯

✧   Rage. It’s blinding, the torrential downpour of outrage and sheer grief. He should have been able to protect you from anything. The control over his emotions that he has spent centuries establishing unravels in that one blinding moment of finding what lay beneath your sleeves. It almost scares you. The grip he has on your shoulders is nearly crushing as he desperately leans into you, his wide evergreen eyes gazing into yours for an answer to all of this.

✧   “Who was it, ______? Who did this to you?” Satan’s voice is low, trembling with the barely contained emotion he holds inside his chest. It burns, acid in his veins as he almost refuses to believe that you had done something as terrifying as to hurt yourself.

✧   He wants to understand, he wants to know why you do these things, why you have these thoughts. Once he gets over the grief of not having been able to protect you from thoughts like this in the first place, he dedicates himself to learning how to help you manage. Satan tries everything with you, but most of all, he loves being able to hold you at night and caress your scars if you’d let him as you both talk about the universe and your emotions. Knowing how to help you allows him to help himself.

✧   He buys matching stim toys, one for you for whenever you might get the urge to self harm, and one for him. He tends to bring it around with him to fiddle with when he’s trying to get his wrath under control, so he never hesitates to lend you his when you don't have yours.

♡ 𝘢𝘴𝘮𝘰𝘥𝘦𝘶𝘴

✧   Love has never been something Asmodeus bothered with too much, often seeing it as an annoying companion to the sin he indulges in the most, but when he realises how much you struggle… he’s overwhelmed with it. Asmo is overwhelmed with the need to hold you and feel your touch, to tell you that you are the most perfect being that he’s ever come across, to make you feel cared for and needed. He realises that losing you would completely tear him apart; just as the knowledge of your struggles does.

✧   “Oh, my love…” Asmodeus sighs as he finishes securing the gauze over your self-inflicted injuries. The first aid kit closes with a soft click, and he kisses your forehead before taking your hand to give it a squeeze. “You need to tell me these things, when you think you can’t handle it anymore. We… we’ll find a way, we’ll find something better to do.”

✧   These emotions aren’t something he’s used to, and he often fumbles when you open up about deep issues, but he listens well. If you let him, he does what he does best. Asmo will rub soothing lotion into your scars and distract you with your favourite things, dressing you up in his big comfortable clothes while watching your favourite shows with you. He never seems to be short on the supply of sweet words, and he’ll be showering you in so much affection to make sure you know just how much everyone adores you.

♡ 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘻𝘦𝘣𝘶𝘣

✧   Beelzebub is the one that worries the most. Unconsciously, he treats you like porcelain, holding you delicately and making sure that none of his brothers say anything that could potentially upset you. Much like Lucifer, he glues himself to your side and follows you around with those puppy eyes of his. It’s more than likely that he’s had the same thoughts before, thoughts of permanently putting an end to the pain of loss and grief. Beel gives you solace in understanding.

✧   “You coming here was the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Beel mumbles quietly as he holds you close, burying his face in your hair. “I don’t want you to leave. I love you. So please, tell me how I can make it better.”

✧   Beel needs you like you need him. At night, he can’t sleep without having you close to make sure he still has you. When he needed it the most, you held his hand so he could fall asleep, and he’s determined to do the same for you. He’s sure that with time, the both of you can make it better together.

✧   Always active, Beel likes feeling like he’s doing something tangible to help you. He’ll be the one holding ice cubes to your skin when you have your urges, or hugging you tight to prevent you from acting out if you’ll let him.

♡ 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘨𝘰𝘳

✧   Much of Belphegor’s life has been pain and ruin, and after being isolated in the attic, he just about thinks he’s out of fucks to give. Everyone’s life has some pain. It’s hard to concern himself with a mere human’s while he has his own recovery to focus on and deal with. But after noticing your tendencies, he can’t stop thinking about you. It’s less of a concern, and more of hoping that the both of you could find something in common in your pain, letting the both of you be someone for the other to hold onto.

✧   Belphie looks over you lazily as you lie beside him, and reaches for your hand. He laces your fingers together, wondering what could be going through your mind. “A penny for your thoughts? Tell me… how are you feeling today?”

✧   His love is as quiet as he is, but Belphie shows his concern by making you feel seen and needed. You don’t need to be strong around him anymore. If you want to talk, he will always listen. If you just want someone to hold, he’ll keep you wrapped in his arms. Belphie takes pride in being someone you can hold onto and trust with your deepest secrets.

✧   Additionally; he sends you depression memes

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧