#but then... i accidentally deleted it too so now im reposting !!

[seiwas]

₊˚⊹｡ see me through the morning glow | gojo satoru

wc: 1.0k summary: you and gojo have a slow morning.  contains: f!reader in mind, suggestive if you squint, food descriptions. a/n: unedited, i honestly dk what this is i just really needed to get this out of my system! this is how i cope with 236.

re-uploaded because i accidentally deleted!

You slip out of bed faced with the promise of sunlight. 

The curtains in your bedroom radiate a glow that bounces off the man lying next to you; it’s soft, near-white, almost ethereal, the color of his skin, hair, and bones. His back is exposed, arm reaching out over the (now) empty space beside him—the crinkles and folds where you once were. 

You’ve always thought your bedroom had good lighting, and now you can confirm why: in the shadows, deepening the line that runs down his spine; in the highlights, guiding your eyes to the pockets of muscle behind his shoulders. 

You look away, trying your best not to stare; the only reason he’s undressed is because of a cold sweat, from the nightmares—and the very need for skin-to-skin, to ground him in your touch. 

On mornings like this, you let Gojo sleep in. 

(Because you’re lucky if he can fall back asleep again). 

It’s slow today—no work, no missions that need you or him. It’s your favorite kind of day, and Gojo’s too (once he wakes up and smells the waffles you’ve prepared, double topped with whipped cream and maple syrup—his special, of course). 

A steady stream of warmth flows through the window to your kitchen countertop, the marble glimmering as light hits. The material was his choice; you don’t care much for glamor but Gojo likes pretty things—you especially, he likes to say. 

The batter is quick to prepare, a recipe you’ve done many times before, so you ladle it into the waffle maker before letting it set on its own. Then, you grab a pan to heat up, spooning in last night’s leftover rice, some soy sauce, and mirin, adding salt to taste, as needed. A standard fried rice breakfast, with a yolk to mix in later. 

The sound of his footsteps are concealed by the sizzles of the pan in front of you, but you’re caught off guard by arms wrapped around your waist, and his chin nestling itself into your shoulder as he nuzzles you. 

He’s still shirtless, you notice, so you inch backwards in case of any oil spatter. 

“Good sleep?” you mumble, certain that he heard you. 

He hums, before whispering, lips tickling the edges of your ear on purpose, pouting, “Not anymore when you left.” 

This man—a giant baby, puffed cheeks with long limbs hunched over you. 

Your big baby. 

Despite his whines, he’s telling the truth, you know, and you feel warm because of it, affection seeping in the cracks between his arms and the kitchen stove. 

You blow on a spoonful of rice before lifting it up to his lips. Gojo’s breakfasts are always sweet, but every time you cook, he looks forward to this: waiting right behind you to be fed over your shoulder.

His review will always be the same, of course, everything you touch turns out good. 

He reaches for the waffle maker with one hand while the other keeps you close, and you plate his little breakfast for him, whipped cream with little hearts drawn in maple syrup. 

You grab a bowl for your rice and sit by the counter, Gojo sitting thigh-to-thigh beside you despite the abundance of space around you. 

You realize then, that Gojo tends to hover. 

Not necessarily in a bad way, just that, he does it all the time—always wanting to be near.  

And for someone so perceiving, practically all-seeing, he doesn’t really have to for him to know what you’re up to, but with every opportunity he has, he never misses a moment to be close to you.

When you wash the dishes by the sink, he stays beside you, shoulder-to-shoulder, even when the sink is wide enough to accommodate him a few inches farther. 

Even the walk to the bathroom has him tailing you, following your footsteps as he traces the footprints of slow mornings with you. 

Your bathroom counter has two sinks, but of course, today, he chooses to stay by yours. 

“Skincare?” you raise a tub of face mask. 

He doesn’t need it, but you love pampering him, so he nods, whatever you want. 

You struggle for a bit (he’s just too tall), so he picks you up by the waist and rests you on the bathroom counter, against the mirror.

He stays in the space between your legs, hands flat against your thighs. His thumb kneads your skin gently, and any other time, this position would end very differently, but there’s a look he’s giving you—all words without speaking. 

And—

“Quit staring,” you mumble, turning shy. You’re about to rub the product onto his cheeks, under his eyes. 

“What, I can’t look at you?” he moves closer, keeping his eyes locked on you as he rubs circles on your thighs. 

“No, you can, but,” you swallow, “you’re looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” his brows furrow. 

“Like that.” you sigh, gesturing to his face. 

“Like I love you?” 

And it is like that. Like he loves you. That’s why he says it so casually. 

Because he does. 

You stay quiet, stunned, before you clear your throat and finish up the final area on his face. 

“Yeah.” you mumble, reaching over to wash your hands on the sink. 

Gojo waits for you to finish before he takes a small towel to dry your hands with it. 

“As if you don’t know.” he scoffs, pulling you closer to the edge of the counter. 

He’s right—it’s been said before, but there’s something else in his eyes right now, shiny and devoted, as if this is all he could ever want. As if you, on this slow morning, in this too-big bathroom is all he could ever need. 

But he doesn’t say anything. At least, not what he really means. 

“Not my fault you’re so pretty today,” he adds on, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

It should be funny, that he’s telling you all this with a mask slathered all over his face, but his compliments always speak to the depths of you, even when you don’t expect them to. 

His fingers mold against your cheek, to your ears, down to the back of your head, bringing you closer until he kisses you softly, a gentle peck. 

Bits of the face mask transfer to your nose and you giggle, wiping it off. 

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, they say.” you joke.

Gojo smiles, that look on his face, “Good for you then, you’re the only one I see.”

re-uploaded because i accidentally deleted!

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[tomriddleslove]

Foolish, foolish thing.

✩Tom Riddle x Reader

Summary: The one where Tom reflects on how much he hates everything, yet he can’t seem to stop. Alternatively: Tom has a dramatic internal monologue.

A/N: I’m going to cry this is actually so foul but REPOST since I accidentally deleted my fucking account. I now have to try remember whatever I wrote 😭. This was my first ever fic so be nice ( or don’t it’s ok)

Song: Sour Switchblade - Elita

Warning: Brief mention of unaliving

There were many things in life that angered Tom.

Whilst it is safe to presume that worrying about mindlessness niceties was beyond the realm of Tom Riddle’s concerns, one could ground some form of justification for his pessimistic outlook on life.

See, anger is a scale. One one end, you have the mild anger. A brief moment of frustration - a hot flash, an unthought remark. It comes just as quickly as it goes. We all felt it. Wether it was reasoned or not, we all did. United in our emotions.

Then , there’s the midpoint of the spectrum, a noticeable presence in the day. Anger wraps her hands around your throat, she does not squeeze. The presence is noticeable, but not burdening. It affects you for a day, perhaps two . This one lingers slightly. It pushes at the surface of the heart, scratches lightly. No visible mark. Tom perhaps most resonated with this. Anger, like all emotions, was a part of being human, being mortal. In the absence of anger, we would not have happiness. Anger was not inherently bad.

Aristotle believed that the most virtuous of people; Those who hoped to achieve eudamonia - enlightenment- would find a golden mean inbetween the emotions. Everything was paired. For recklessness, you had cowardice. For the indulgent, you had the unfeeling.

The traits we associate with virtue, such as bravery, or compassion, lay inbetween the vices of excess and deficiency.

So let anger be the vice of deficiency, bitter and resentful. Happiness is the vice of excess, obsequious and suppliant. Most of us would fall somewhere in the middle, fluctuating between excess and deficiency.

Tom lived in deficiency. He let the anger accumulate. She held her hand against his throat, not enough to suffocate but enough for him to forget what it was like to breathe, uninterrupted. He seldom grew used to her presence, a welcome sight. That seemingly harmless scratch, the anger that wasn’t enough to send him lashing out, or breaking down, every single day. It erodes at him.

The only testament to Tom Riddle having a heart was the damage inflicted on it.

Perhaps what sent Tom to the very end of the spectrum was laughable. He could tolerate the relentless tirades from the children at the home he stayed at. He never cared much for their words anyways, it wasn’t enough to tip the scale.

It wasn’t the way his peers had largely changed their attitude to him after he had discovered he was the heir of Slytherin. The same mouths that tormented him, now singing his praises. No, he didnt care for that. Wether people liked him or not, he knew power came from fear. Yes, perhaps to establish that standing he needed to employ charisma, be at least undetected. But trust, and respect, would not get him anyway here. Anything that is earned, can be revoked. Fear was instilled. It was engrained - it controlled what you did, and how you did it.

So what did push Tom to that forsakes far end of the spectrum? The place where anger constricts your airways? She digs her teeth into the side of your neck and tugs at your heart?

Foolishness.

Tom hated foolishness.

He loathed it. The mere sight of it gnawed at his very being (or what was left of it) . He could not stand the the foolish. Those who deluded themselves into thinking it was ok to wallow in self pity. Those who believed they were untouched.

Any form of foolishness? He hated it.

One cannot live in constant anger for long. The toll it takes on the being is too high, it is simply not sustainable. There was a beautiful irony in Tom’s pursuit for immortality, for if he didn’t seek to do so he would surely be dead in a year. Two, if he was lucky.

Why? Because more often than not, Tom had now been living with an excess of anger for the better part of a year. He learnt how to breathe whilst being suffocated, learnt how to compose himself despite the pressure it exerted on him. Tom was witnessing the very thing that angered him so much daily now.

And he was the perpetrator.

His anger for foolishness came from his utter disbelieve that anyone could, or would, willingly allow themselves to be fooled. To be vulnerable, to have something that they blindly followed. He thought it was simply the most unthinkable, daft action anyone could do. Yet, when it came to you, Tom was an absolute fool.

There is no polite way to put it, really. Tom thought nothing of you when he first met you. No sort of spark, a burn, an indescribable longing. No- to him you were the nameless person he spent every Thursday afternoon with during your double potions lesson.

But maybe that was better. It wasn’t on some kind of hedonistic basis that he fell for you.

Rather, it was his very being that fell for you before he could even comprehend what happened.

It was alien to him, the way his heart beat ever so slightly quicker when you would brush past him to reach for some ingredients, the faint scent of your perfume sending him into a haze. It was him searching for you subconsciously every thursday, it was him somehow being attuned to every laugh you exchanged with your friends at the far end of the slytherin table. It was obsessive, it crept up on him and grabbed him, holding him hostage to his own dismay.

Tom's realization gnawed at the very fabric of his identity, as if the foundation of his carefully constructed persona was slowly eroding. The anger he harbored towards foolishness now manifested within himself, and the more he tried to resist, the deeper he found himself sinking into the quicksand of emotions he disdained.

Every moment with you chipped away at the fortress he built around his heart. It was a cruel irony, for the very emotion he deemed foolish had become an adversary within. The disdain he felt for the vulnerability of others now echoed in his own internal struggle, and the knowledge that he, the formidable Tom Riddle, was succumbing to such weakness tormented him.

Love was an unwelcome guest, an intruder in the sanctuary of his calculated existence. He despised the way his thoughts involuntarily veered towards you, the way his heart betrayed the logic he clung to so desperately.

He hated the way you made him feel. The way he found himself wanting to be near you. He found that he didn’t mind stopping what he was doing if he could be with you. You didn’t willingly veer him off his path to greatness, but heaven knows that for you? Tom would careen himself off that track. And he hated that fact.

He hated it so much he contemplated snuffling the life out of you when you sat together in your room, subdued by a comfortable silence. He contemplated ending it all (whether it be you, or him) . A simple flick of his wand, it’s all he needed to do, and you’d be gone.

But no.

See, Anger lingered, it built up. But love?

Love clung. It burrowed into the desolate hallways of his heart, embedding its tendrils into him, refusing to ever leave.

It was a bitter pill to swallow, and the taste lingered like an enduring reminder of his own fallibility-

His own humanity.

The universe, it seemed, reveled in weaving the threads of his downfall from the very fabric he detested – the foolishness of love.

A small sigh, whether it be of defeat or acceptance (were they really ever different things?) escapes his lips, as he turns over, the feeble blanket that enveloped the both of you providing little to no warmth in the mid November night.

His eyes trace over your sleeping form; the gentle rise and fall of your chest. His hand hesitates for a second, gently reaching out. He places his hand ever so lightly atop of your chest, the warmth of your body seeping into him the same way your very being sept into his. He feels the rhythmic beating of your heart, and is once again reminded of how easy it would be. To just pierce the damned thing, and not feel this way anymore. To not feel like you were drowning him , yet he also needed you to breathe.

He hesitates for a second but ultimately, as he has always done, moves his hand up to brush away a strand of misplaced hair from your face, as he lets his eyes flutter shut. He pulls the blanket slightly tighter over himself, resting his head near your shoulder, forehead pressed against your skin.

He’ll do it another day, he convinces himself.

Such a foolish, foolish thing.

[hyukaslvr]

SCREAM, baby! // j. wooyoung

<masterlist!!

warnings♱ knife play, mean dom! wooyoung, unprotected sex, creampie, pussy n tit slapping, spanking, rough handling. degradation (slut/whore), dumbification, cock-drunk reader, crying during sex n dacryphilia, missionary, cumming inside, cussing.

w.c♱ aproxx 5k

a/n♱ this is a repost of my day ‘8 kinktober post on my first blog that i had accidentally deleted (haha). i will eventually repost all of my fics, that me and my girlfriend tried very hard to find screenshots of or finding people who reblogged them(thank you so much if so). so no, this isn’t someone copying. look at this to see proof that im the original hyukaslvr, thank you!!

you had your whole halloween night planned, set in stone. you had your smart tv on ready to find scary movies to watch, popcorn and drink in hand, and on the couch instead of going out while there's a mask killer going around.

you got all settled down, remote in hand getting ready to scroll through multiple horror sections before finding the perfect thriller to play. a buzzing coming from your thigh makes you sigh, you know it was gonna be another one of your friends trying to convince you to go out tonight. your best friend was calling.

"wooyoung? what's up?" you say, picking at your salted popcorn before popping a good one in your mouth.

"hello, y/n." a different voice comes from the phone, you proceeded to choke on your previous piece of popcorn.

"who is this??" you resolved your choking by tapping your chest, now concerned who was on the line with you if it wasn't wooyoung.

"i have a better question," the man pauses, leaving you more worried than before. "what's your favorite scary movie?"

you didn't hear the following footsteps before screaming as the man covers your mouth with his gloved hand, knife pressing your throat.

"hi princess."

you found out about a week ago that wooyoung was the one going around, killing people coldly with his hands and knife. you found his bloody suit in his bag at a party you were at last weekend, right after another killing was done in the same house of the party. it was fresh, and stained your hands when you gripped the black cloak between your fingers. you hadn't talked to him since, you had to right to. you were scared, he was killing off your guys friends. you had the right to be scared, especially since you don't know his intentions towards you.

you slowly reached for the gloved hand that was holding your mouth closed, pushing your fingers through his before slowly pulling his hand to your chest. you looking straight ahead, scared to do anything else. it was wooyoung, how could he possibly hurt you?

"wooyoung, please put the knife down."

"and if i don't?" you tense up as he presses slightly harder against your skin. he rests his head on your shoulder, and you know who's looking right at you through the plastic mask.

"i don't know why you're doing this, but we can work things out."he laughs, standing completely up and forcing your chin upwards to look at him. "work things out? how could we possibly when i've gone too far?"

you pause, staring right up at the boy as he tilts his head to the side.

you were always scared to be too close to wooyoung, knowing what your heart would do to your feelings towards him. yeah, you liked him. you just didn't want to accept it. he was your best friend, you didn't want to ruin what you had. you've always found him attractive, but more recently you can't seem to be able to be around him with out heating up. so what did you do? you distanced yourself from him, from your whole friend group. he would constantly ask you what he did or what is wrong but you always just told him and the others that you were too tired to meet up.

you just had a even better excuse to ignore him by what you found about a week ago, and you staring at him makes you realize you definitely knew why he was here. it was definitely because of that.

"if it's because i ignored you, it was nothing you'd done." you flinch when he goes up your face with the sharp blade, tickling your flushed skin.

"is that so? then what was the reason to ignoring me, baby?" you shudder, him calling you names isn’t helping the fact that your heat was already sticking to your panties with just his hand on your chin and the angle you were staring at him.

"will you sit? I'll explain everything if you just, remove the knife pressing on me." you slowly let out, feeling the knife that was pressing down on you slowly leaving your neck. you closed your eyes as you hear hustling around you. your eyes opened wide when you feel your legs being forced open. you go to speak but stop when you feel the sharp tip against your stomach.

you gasp as you watch and feel the gloved hand reach for your shorts and yanks them down to your ankles. your cheeks burn when you look at the man sitting between your legs.

"let me taste you as you explain, wanna make my baby feel good" wooyoung speaks again, pushing your panties to the side to look at your pretty pussy. the feeling of his eyes watching you clench on nothing makes you want him so badly. he was testing your limits so much right now, you just wanted to rip that ugly mask off his sexy tan face and watch him eat you slowly.

"let me see you, please wooyoung," you whisper, he grabs your hand and tugs it for you to take it off yourself. your breath gets caught when you slowly raise the mask over his head. he's always so pretty. he doesn't give you much time to drool over him, leaving opened mouth kisses against the warmth of your inner thighs. you just knew you were drenched.

"wooyoung-" you gasp as you feel a gloved hand sliding up and down against your folds. your breath gets caught in your throat when he removes the knife from your stomach to hold you face down towards him.

"watch me."

he gives you swollen bud a peck before sliding his tongue up and down. your body arches off the bed, wooyoung loudly moaning between your thighs. his gloved hands reaching to grip any flesh he can grip on to, being your hips or your breasts. all he can hear are your pants of pleasure spurring him on. His tongue buried in your pussy while his nose nudges at your clit causing you to buck your hips towards his face.

you were almost riding his face at this point and that was how he wanted it. when you let out a loud moan of his name, your hand tugging harshly at his hair as he practically growls against your soft velvet like folds before looking up at you. his pupils blown out from lust like a man drunk because he was. you watch him struggle against your hand before you push his head towards your mouth, and he gladly pushes his lips harshly on yours, kissing you rough and practically eating your mouth.

he pulls away from your now puffy red lips, "fucking ignoring me, but now you're so needy for me?" wooyoung growls, hands reaching your boobs for his thumbs to pinch your nipples meanly. you whimpered softly. "oh, don't try to act pathetic now."

wooyoung moved his freehand down back to your cunt as he shoved two 01 his fingers into your hole, rough and fucking up into you. every single pump was joined by the wet noise of your cunt, your cunt leaking so much that you could feel your juices slide down your thighs and onto the couch.

wooyoung pinched your tit again, your responding whine loud. he punished your whine with a sharp slap to the underside of your tit. "fucking desperate little whore. was fucking ignoring me, but is so wet underneath me, slut desperate for a cock. is that it, baby? you a fucking slut?"

you bit down on your lip, eyes watering at the edges from the roughness of his touch and the harshness of his words. you loved it.

"i'm a slut, wooyoung, 'm sorry-"

he began to thrust three of his fat fingers into your pussy, "you're not fucking sorry," he hissed. his dark eyes were narrowed, their usual bright spark gone.

"i'm sorry-"

"no you're fucking not," wooyoung shot back, voice scratchy.

wooyoung ripped his hand from your cunt. you let out a cry, trying to buck your hips back up to his hand. he laughed meanly, and then he was slapping your thigh. "eager little slut," he said. wooyoung was smiling. "just wanted something in your little cunt, yeah? you're just so goddamn desperate-"

"want you," you sobbed, trying to reach for him. wooyoung pushed you back onto the couch, his hand pressing down on your shoulder and keeping you still. you couldn't help but stare at him, whimpering at the lust in his glaring eyes.

wooyoung moved to grab your hips. you immediately opened your thighs wide, letting him press against you. he lifted your lower half, fingers digging into your thighs. "opening your legs like a little whore in heat," he said, tilting his head, smirking. "that it, baby? you my little whore in heat, desperate for my dick?"

wooyoung released his grip on one of your thighs to run his hand along your cunt. the slide had you groaning, lashes fluttering and hips trying to seek out more friction. instead wooyoung moved his hand to your stomach, there he spread your slick over your skin.

"look at how fucking wet you are," he laughed. "fucking whore. so goddamn wet from me and my knife."

he used his free hand to grab his dick. wooyoung slapped the tip of his cock on your folds, making your legs shake. he moved closer, the tip of his dick rubbing against your pussy lips. you moaned, and then you were moving your hips, seeking more friction, trying to get his cock to slip in to where you needed it most.

"don't know if i should give it to you," he taunted, tongue poking out. his eyes were on your cunt, watching as he dragged the tip of his cock through your cunt, soaking it in your juices.

"what was it, baby? didn't need me? didn't need my dick?"

"need it," you sobbed. and you did. you needed his dick in you, needed him to shove his cock inside of you and fuck you. it was all you wanted needed. you needed him, needed jung wooyoung. then you bursted into tears. you weren't sad, weren't crying from anything bad. you were just so desperate. you wanted wooyoung, you wanted him, you wanted, you wanted, you wanted.

wooyoung sighed, and then he was fucking his cock into you. a loud cry escaped your mouth, and you arched your back up into him. wooyoung kept pressing, pushing his cock further and further. it stung, especially as his cock was fatter than even three of his fingers. you wanted it. you wanted his cock, wanted his dick and any pain that might have come with it.

"take it," he urged, slapping your thigh. "take my cock, baby. gotta take it all. you were so desperate for it, yeah? wanted it so bad? wanted it so bad you were gonna cry like a little fucking slut. so now you gotta take it'

"want it," you gasped. you let your mouth hang wide open, brows furrowed in pleasure from the sting of his cock forcing your walls to squeeze him.

"fuck me," you begged, using your legs to try and force him to fuck back into you. "fuck me, woo, fuck me."

wooyoung laughed, and then he was pressing his mouth to yours. you gasped, hands scrambling along his shoulders. he didn't kiss you as much as he fucked your mouth. then he snapped his hips in your cunt sheathing his dick in one movement. you cried out, teeth nipping at his mouth on accident.

wooyoung pulled away, using one of his hands to wipe at his mouth.

"gonna fuck your stupid cunt so good."

he went to his knees, keeping his lower stomach pressed to your ass. he gripped your thighs and, using them as anchors, began to fuck you. his hips slapped against you harshly, the sharp hits of his fucking making the skin where his hips met your ass sting, though this was drowned out by the pure lust of his cock striking deep within you.

"take it," he growled, pushing your thighs to your chest, eyes dancing over your figure. "take my fat cock in your tight little cunt, fucking take it, take it all."

wooyoung fucked you urgently, desperately. he kept adjusting your thighs and ass, searching for that one gummy spot in your cunt that would bring you pleasure. then, with a hard fuck into your pussy, he found it.

you shouted out, hands shooting out and grabbing at him. one of your hands found his hair and gripped it tight.

he was grabbed your hand and forced it to the bed, keeping you from touching him. "i said to fucking take it," he snapped. "fucking take my cock. you decided to fucking ignore me, decided to go behind my back. now you gotta lay there and take it like a slut."

you sobbed, nodding. wooyoung moaned, hips stuttering for a moment.he managed to control himself and continued, cock slamming against your core in a harsh rhythm. "fucking pretty," wooyoung grunted. "so fucking pretty when you cry, fuck-"

"fuck," he hissed, his hands moving to your hips and gripping you. wooyoung fucked you with earnest, using his strength to bring your cunt back onto his dick again and again. "fuck --"you cried, mouth wide open from pleasure. he was reaching so deep inside of you, dick reaching so fucking deep inside that you swore you could feel it in your throat. he was filling your senses, from his dick to his hands to his voice, and you felt like you were drowning in wooyoung.

"good girl," he growled, shifting his position. "am i making you feel good? huh? your woo's dick making your little pussy feel good?"

you sobbed out, wooyoung's hand left your hip, and then he was grabbing your hair. he forced your face to look at him, a loud gasp tearing from your throat at his roughness. "fucking speak," he demanded, hand leaving your hair to slap at your hip. "told you to fucking talk, baby. think you're too good to talk while i'm fucking your pussy?"

"no," you said sobbed. "no-just- woo-”

"what? fucking you so good you can't speak?" he laughed in mean tone, slapping your hip again. "use your words like a good girl. be a good girl, baby."

finally you managed something. your words came out in a slop. "good," you moaned, "fucking me sooo good!"

"fuck yes i am," he laughed, pushing his body and chest against yours. the change in angle had you squealing, driving your hips forward and forcing his cock further. wooyoung let out a strangled groan, nails digging into your skin. "fuck-baby-"

with one more harsh thrust at your gummy spot, you saw stars. your legs started shaking uncontrollably, staring down at the space between your body's and watching his dick drive into your cunt. throwing your head back gave his access to leave harsh kisses on your warm neck. you felt like he was sucking the soul out of you, feeling him so deep inside.

"woo-wooyoung! 'm cumming-!" your legs couldn't stop shaking, he takes your words as a sign to go harder and deeper than he was going before.

"oh fuck-" your world spins. screaming as your whole body shakes in release of your orgasm. wooyoung panting as he struggles against your cunt squeezing him so tightly, he couldn't help but release there and then.

you didn't notice the loud sirens blaring, surrounding your house with red and blue lights. wooyoung lets out a string of cusses, wincing when he pulls out of your dripping hole.

"wooyoung- don't leave me!" you grip his arm, and he looks down at you. a small smile spreads across his face.

"you know you can't get rid of me that easily, im not going anywhere." he leans down, gives your temple a gentle kiss before standing up and reaching for his belongings.

"i love you-" you struggle to stand, failing as you fall flat on the couch again. he giggles, grabbing your shorts and sliding them on you gently.

"i love you too, baby." he says, putting his arms down on the couch, pushing his lips against yours. you wrap your arms around his neck, wanting nothing but him to stay. but you know he can't.

he pulls away, knocking on the door and hollers coming from outside is his signal to leave quickly, walking to the back window. he looks back at your distressed body, smiling to himself before opening the window. he doesn't look at you again as he speaks,

"you know i'll be back."

[dovesintherain]

shades of her

word count: 1.5k

warnings: fluff, kissing, the ocean

an: hi :) so i accidentally deleted my other account so im reposting everything on this new one, bare with me please ! im very sorry for the confusion and inconvenience !

blue was never a cold colour to you.

Retrouve-moi dans le jardin à minuit.

You read the note over and over again, a smile growing on your face. You were getting ready for bed when you heard the soft scrapping of paper sliding under your door. You stood from your bed and picked up the note curiously, unfolding it gently. Immediately you knew the messenger, Alma. The french was a dead giveaway but it was the perfect cursive writing that had your heart fluttering in your chest. 

The sound of the children's bedroom doors closing echoed through the old house. That meant it was ten o’clock. You tucked the note away, changed back into your daily clothes and waited. The following two hours were the longest of your life. Your mind raced with thoughts on what the note could mean, what she wanted. You were pulled from your anxious thoughts when you saw the time. You carefully crept down the stairs and made your way to the back door, opening it quietly.

You held your breath when you saw her waiting. The moonlight illuminated her and you were pulled in helplessly like a moth to a flame. Her eyes were soft and her hand extended in a silent invitation. You took it willingly. Despite the many shades of blue that made up the beautiful woman in front of you, she was always warm.

The warmth that radiated from her hand travelled to your cheeks and you smiled. In a haze, you allowed her to lead you through the quiet trees and back gate. You continued down a cobblestone path, the stairs overgrown with moss and delicate wildflowers. Erie shapes were cast across the ground. The moon's soft rays created shadow puppets with the foliage from the trees above you. The sure grip of Alma's hand soothed the unrest in your belly. You always felt safe with her. 

It was rare that you had time alone together due to the children pulling you both every which way. Now that you were free of distractions the courage you normally carried was lost to the wind, words dying in your throat as you walked. You never had an opportunity to leave the house long enough to bathe in the deep blue water of the sea nearby and it was something that nagged at you. Though you weren't too fussed about it as you were just as content to stay and help Alma with the household duties and the children. However, it was something you mentioned to Emma when she caught you looking longingly at the water from a window upstairs. A week passed since you had told her and you were now walking hand in hand with Alma as she led you down to the sand in the middle of the night. You were going to speak with Emma later.

You felt your foot sink as you stepped onto the sand. The air was salty and the breeze was cool. 

Alma had enough courage to speak first, “I can see why you longed to be here, it's quite beautiful.” 

You were drawn to the water like a magnet. Each time the waves pulled back into the sea, it felt as though the ocean wanted to pull you with it. You gazed at the water longingly. “Emma told you?” You asked softly, your hand still in hers. 

“She did. But I had noticed it before she had said anything.” Alma explained as she admired the view in front of you both. The black midnight sky was reflected in the water, turning the shades blue into a sea of ink. The moon glowed over the horizon and illuminated the tops of the calm waves as they crested.  

“It’s a happy place of sorts.” You said as you kept your eyes forwards. You could see out of your peripheral that Alma had turned to look at you, studying you for a moment. You let your eyes close. The sound of the water was almost loud enough to drown out the sound of your heart pounding in your chest as you felt her squeeze your hand. Almost.

“Are you ready?” She asked gently, the anticipation in her tone not lost on you. You nodded your head and turned to her with a grateful smile. As the two of you undressed you fought the urge to stare, failing miserably. You were thankful that Alma had chosen a midnight swim instead of one at sunrise. The darkness providing a cover to the deep blush that bloomed on your cheeks. Not that it mattered, she caught you staring, a small smirk growing on her lips. 

You waded into the sea first, breathing out a sigh of relief as water rose up your body with every step. The soft splashing of Alma following behind you met your ears. As the waves washed over her skin she hissed out, “it's freezing!”

Your head tilted back as you released a laugh. She laughed with you and made her way to your side. Once you were both about shoulder height in the dark water you took both of her hands in yours beneath the surface. You look at her with a challenging gaze. Her eyes widened in realisation before taking in a shaky breath. You both squeezed your eyes shut, nervous smiles adoring your faces before fully submerging yourselves, your hands holding each other tightly as you braced the icy temperature. 

You resurfaced together with small gasps, goosebumps adoring your skin. You were suddenly caught off guard by the sight of Alma inches away from you, it knocked the breath from your lungs and your heart pounded louder in your chest. Her indigo hair appeared even darker when wet, a few strands sticking to her cheek. The paleness of her face, neck and shoulders shone under the light of the moon, freckles scattering her skin. It was like an inverted image of the night sky. Her nose, cheeks and lips flushed pink from the cold. You met her piercing blue gaze and all you could think about was how you could never get tired of admiring her. 

Her hands came to hold your hips and pulled you in closer. “You’re staring again, darling.” Her smooth words flowed along with the current of the sea. Your eyes fitted between hers, she did the same. You could feel her hands move up to your waist and you shivered, not because of the cold. She pulled you close and you let her, willingly standing chest to chest. Your hand came out of the water and pushed the strands of hair that stuck to her cheek back behind her ear. Her gaze fell to your lips and your heartbeat picked up its pace. 

You don't know who leaned in first. Her lips were salty from the ocean and you were sure yours were the same. Her cold lips moving softly against yours filled you with so much warmth you felt as though you could burn ablaze in the middle of the sea. You eventually pulled away and rested your foreheads together, her hands unmoving. You both swam back to shore, pulling your clothes over your damp frames. You tried not to show your disappointment as Almas curves were shielded from view.

The walk back to the house was quiet, though this time the nervousness was gone. It was an easy silence and you decided that words weren’t enough to describe the feelings you had anyway. As you made your way back up to the house you purposely slowed your steps, wanting to savour the evening as long as you could, sand sticking to the salty skin of your bare feet. “Thank you,” your voice soft as you met her gaze walking along the stone path. She gave you an easy smile in return, taking your hand in hers. You suddenly felt warm again.

As you reentered the back gate of the garden, you squeezed Alma's hand. She turned back to look at you with a questioning gaze. You simply pulled her in for another kiss and felt her smile against your lips. Your heart fluttered in your chest as you shared the secret kiss in the garden, in the dark, among the flowers. You pulled back and shivered as the wind danced across your wet skin. “Let’s get you inside,” she chuckled, pulling you to the back door.

You both kept quiet as you slipped into the house. The sound of water dripping echoed through the hall as salty drops fell from wet hair. Evidence of your late night excursion was present on the wood floor. Damp sandy footprints trailing behind you both as you made your way through the house. Emma watched from her bedroom door that was slightly ajar as you arrived at the top of the stairs. Alma placed a final quick peck on your flushed cheek before turning to her bedroom door, allowing you to cross the hall and retire to your room for the evening. Once your door was closed she turned and caught sight of the blonde girl. She simply held a finger to her lips playfully as if to say, not a word. 

[cherubispunk]

ICHOR. BLOOD. WATER. (part i // ichor.) - Din Djarin x Witch!AFAB!Reader

summary: stranded. alone. a traitor to your people, your family. aeaea is the prison of paradise you call home, and he is the prophecy you like to call an enigma. the 'man made from metal', forged in fire, melted by your spell that is no witchcraft on your part. he is the hunter, you will always be the prey. it is the way as the fates designed it.

a note from lucy: so, its back. i'm officially back! basically, I went through it. accidentally deleted my blog. had to start from scratch. repost it all. but! I'm here. you're here. we're all here! Greek mythology is a huge love of mine. I always like to add a small sprinkling into my fics where possible. and now im writing one based wholly of two greek myths: eros and phsyche, and circe. I've read Madeleine Miller's 'Circe'. I fell in love with it, it's genuinely one of the best books ive had the pleasure of reading --hence the fact that this is heavily based off it in terms of 'lore'. Din is the perfect character for these myths to be translated into fic. So, without further ado, I present to all you lovely people (again lol), my mythology!au; ICHOR. BLOOD. WATER. for @inklore and @psychedelic-ink's haunted hoedown. A three part fic with our beloved space cowboy. I really hope you enjoy it as I put a lot of time and thought into this. I love you all, you wonderful Pedro fanatics.

playlist

wc: 2255 Warnings: 18+ MDNI! DARK CONTENT! mythology!au, no use of y/n, reader is referred to as 'Circe' twice in this chapter alone, dubcon, smut, p in v sex (unprotected), reference to past sexual assault (very mild), cussing, mentions of witchcraft, voyeurism, mentions of drinking alcohol, mentions of food and descriptions of eating, choking, breath play, oral sex - f receiving, edging, orgasm denial, toxic relationships, dom!din/sub!reader dynamic, sex as a means for manipulation and control, manipulative!din, stockholm syndrome?

series m.list | m.list

You had done many things under the pseudonym of Circe. Bird. Crow. What your mother and siblings used as a knife to your throat. An insult in the form of a name. One that man whispered in myth around fires. One a sailor would call out in fear upon reaching the shore of any island in the vicinity of Aeaea. It clung to the disgusted curl of their tongue like the tang of sour fruits. Lemons of Sicily. Limes from crete. Wrapped in letter parchment, sweetened with ink. 

Across from you is the god responsible for many of those tall tales. In his gold sheathed glory, olive skin gleaming with a ripple of muscle against the warmth of your hearth. Under it flows ichor, steadily. His winged sandals flutter in a twitch every few minutes. A subtle sound that is heard little too often over the lilt of his voice. Hermes. A deity you invited to your bed when he would visit, indulge in the stories of how he stole cattle as mere youngling, delivered messages of ruin to mortals. Travelled the planes of the underworld from the Styx to Elysium Plains. Hades and his sunken eyes on his throne. Where winged sandals would carry him overseas with his travellers cap and staff of entwined twin snakes. 

He would sit upon your chair, open his loose lips and a drone would pour out, Maybe to a mortal he would seem all so interesting. One to dote hours of your day to the thick honey like pouring of his voice in your ear. But to you – the witch – a goddess in your own right, he was a mere drag. A rake. A god worthy of being turned to swine at the unjust sight of his curling smirk. 

You would have drifted off it weren't for his voice picking up in interest, your ears perking up with it. The high buzz from his drone of white noise faded, ebbing into coherence while his lips drifted in voice. Practised and perfected movement the way any divine being did. 

“The fates speak of a man. Made of metal.” He mused, studying his thumb and forefinger as a stand of your lionesses hair was snagged between it. You wished to singe it from his fingertips. “A warrior.” “From overseas of Greece?” Now, and only now,  he had your attention. 

“Further.” 

You muttered a curse under your breath. Where would be further. “He will sail on a ship, strand himself on your shores engulfed with fire. And you shall do as you have before.”

“Take it?” You sneered, sitting forward in your seat, teeth bared at him. “I suppose I shall feed him before he sets his disgusting hands upon me.” 

“Oh come now,” He smirked, “Were you not to take him to your bed regardless?” 

“I shall sew your mouth shut for such accusations.” 

Hermes sighed, rolling his eyes in all his dramatics. Lounging in his seat. 

“Circe, you humour me with your feral tongue.” 

“And you disgust me with your plight.” “Ah,” he held up a single finger, humour on his face at the top of his curled lip, “I may be bored. But at least I have the world. You, Circe,” he spat, raising a brow in sickening amusement, “have nothing.” 

Your face drained of colour. Your heart aching in its chasm of a chest, ribs pinching. He was right. Your oasis was still a prison. Despite its bars of gold, it still held you. Contained you. 

He stood in his victory over you, taking one last look around. “One last thing–”

“Oh, there’s more, is there?” You sighed, staying seated. For all his heirs and graces, he was no more worthy of your respect than the dirt caked to your bare feet in winter's first bite. The god merely crossed his arms, a diving wind rustling the blonde curls upon his head, wrapped in laurels, 

“You must never look upon his face.” 

You sat in a furrowed brow muddle. He had drifted to the wind, turned to a shimmering spectacle of dust, in nothing more than a blink. 

—

He came with a blundering sputter. In a ship that was no ship of wood that sailed on tides. A hunk of chrome with spitting fans of fiery heat. A thwip through your cloudless skies to crash upon sandy shores. 

He came…with a child. A green creature with pointed ears similar to satyrs, no taller than your mid calf, alien to you. Wide hickory eyes that masked his face with innocence, having seen things unspeakable to even brave sailors. And when they sat at your table, piled plentifully with sweet figs, legs of mutton infused with rosemary, steamed and seasoned greens, and honey in its jar, the man of metal left all deserted by his lips. His plate was clean, wine untouched in his cup. Never once needing an added refill. Nor did he speak kindly. Rather, reserved. Gruff, distorted by something in his helmet seemingly fused to his head. While the child chewed on the fleshy roasted bone of lamb. 

Rhythms of autumn, songs of summer, ballads of winter watched over you and the meadows you walked. Gardens you tended to. Woods you roamed. And he did too. There was something within him. Under that beskar. It called, howled, growled in insubordination. A vulgar hatred of being vulnerable out in this position. Where you held an advantage of both terrain and power. 

So he took in a way he knew. In carnal, biting desire paced by him. Phallically. Reversed the role of who won who, made you beg in your own bed, in the drowning pools of darkness. Never to see his face. 

But oh so familiar. 

The first time he took you was akin to a memory in the very moment it happened. A haze of something so absurd it couldn't possibly have been true. Played out the way it did. The Mandalorian watched while you bathed. In a creek not too far from the path. A rock for your lioness to splay out over, sunbathe and make her coat gleam gold like the ichor in your veins. Her ears pricked at a sound he made. One you did not hear with your head submerged under the clear pool. 

She looked up, lifting her whiskered chin from her large paws, and her eyes met his. He did not fret. Nor did he stop and turn away from the great willow he stood below. Only glanced from her to the curve of your bare chest rippling above the crystal waters rippling surface. 

From there, he had stalked you to the deeper parts of the forest where even your familiar did not follow. Watched as a wicker basket was tucked under your arm, flowers and mosses being picked from the ground as you went about gathering pharmakeia for your draughts. 

He appeared, bringing his musk while his hand clamped down over your parted lips. Pressed your front firmly into the tree, hands scraped gold raw by the silver birch’s peeling bark.  

“Don’t.” He growled upon your demand to turn around. “Face the tree.” 

And you obeyed in tandem with the hiss of something– his helmet– as it dropped to the dewy floor by your bare feet. A single kiss, seasoned with sparse prickled hairs was laid to the nape of your neck, a wondrous dichotomy to the events yet to unfold, noises of restraint on the tip of his tongue, the back of his throat. The skirts of your dress were gathered in messy haste, undergarments pulled to the side, revealing the shine of your own slick. How you dreamed in secret nights of this very moment. His taking of you, his claiming of your cunt— grunting while he invaded the tightness of your walls, flayed you open forever like a sacred text, ready for him to read once again. 

A large palm of his, gloved in leather, pressed to the nape of your neck where the notch of your spine ended and your skull began to curve, thumb pressed to flesh, fingers curled into gnarled hair. You gasped, cold air nipping the back of your exposed thighs, fully clothed still, yet bent to submission by the masculine will of him. Naked. 

The orgasm was The Mandalorians. And the Mandalorians alone. You never questioned the burning ache of pending release. Merely let it simmer in the tight heat of your walls at the mouth of your cervix. His noise still stinging in your ears, shocking the breath from your lungs. He took no time. It was a rush for his release. His domination of the witch of Aeaea. 

From that moment onwards, you imagined his lips, recited in drugged sleep to the egyptian cotton and goose down of your pillow. His irises. To write a poem on parchment about something you could not see, nor ever would per his and Herme’s telling. Fingertips itching to feel warmth of skin, not beskar. While his armour was smooth, buffed, polished to shine in rays of Helios's chariot, it was cold to the touch. You had his visage mapped in your mind. Well trodden by fingertips such as the paths by the tall cliffs. The Mandalorian. Nameless. Faceless. 

He spent each night for a fortnight in your bed. The first, he parted your legs himself, and the rest they were already spayed open for his wanting. He snuffed the candles with his thumb and forefinger, unsheathing them from his gloves before doing so. You watched with intent from the sheets as his visage dominated the tall door frame. Shoulders broad and intimidating the negative space he occupied. Only when he was shrouded in utter darkness did he remove his helmet, climb his way up to your parted lips. Curating a careful path from them, over the column of your throat, descending your navel to the forbidden fruit gleaming, ripe and juicy for his lips. Ready for his first damning lick of your sex. 

Like the apple in the garden of Eden, temptation on Lucifer's forked tongue, he delved deeper, rested his naked face between your tensing thighs. Broad arms, still sheathed in beskar curled under them, dragging you closer to his open mouth while your arousal, slick and thick as honey, drizzled out your weeping hole to his open, wanting mout. 

His tongue drew ellipsis over the twitching bud of your clit. Thick and firm, the tip pressing into your cunt, following your hot seam down to your quivering hole. He dipped inside, curling it to draw the taste out. You couldn't see his eyes. But you liked to imagine they were open to feast on the sight of your quivering and naked chest the best he could without the guide of the candlelight. Now snuffed into curling stings of smoke. Staring while you were shaking under the pleasure rolling up from your centre and cascading like a landslide down your spine. It made you shiver. The soft plush of your legs swallowing his exposed ears, the small, neatly trimmed curls tickling the sensitive flesh. His coarse beard, scruff scattered in a smattering over his sharp chin scratching your skin. 

A low groan rumbled from the back of his throat, your tang dancing with light feet over his taste buds And his nose bumped into your clit as he tasted more. Devoured your cunt like his last meal. 

It wasn't long before you felt the burn behind your eyes replicate in knots in your belly. Tightening at the mouth of your cervix while he ate at you. A cry of his name bursting from your chest as he flicked his tongue with vigour. He had one aim in mind. To taste your release. The sticky mess that would coat his lower face. 

“Give it to me.” He commanded. And oh, how you tried. You willingly left this realm while he licked at your pussy, his tongue languidly rolling up one side of your labia, up to your clit and circling it, then down the other side to plunge into your tight, clenching hole once more. 

You nimble fingers curled into his hair. It was coarse, wispy at its ends where it started to coil loosely. And you gripped it as you ground your core into his face. RIding and grinding into his face that was exposed to your quivering cunt. Not ready to part with the way his ips enclosed around your clit and added enough suction for you to see Ouranos and all the stars that tattooed his blue skin. 

You panted a chorus of heavenly oh’s. Breath came in heavy as he pulled back to spit. You felt it, cold in contrast to your own heat, drooling down to your slick entrance. It quivered when he added a finger, curling up from the second knuckle. It was merely one digit. But it stretched you out, had you reeling while he beckoned your orgasm closer to materialising in your belly. 

He could smell the musk of you and it was divine. 

He had your orgasm building and building into a near state of harrowing oblivion before he let it rip through you. The first wave was one of numbing pleasure. The one that fizzled through your legs until you were nothing but a mere speck for a second. And then it broke, like some great epiphany from him as an enigma. 

He stood, replaced his helmet, leaving you boneless. A quivering, babbling mess of sweat and slick in your own sheets.

[athena-writes-i-guess]

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Prompt: “I really want to kiss you right now”/“Then do it.”

Warnings: none! All fluff baby!

A/N: I’m an idiot and accidentally deleted this post cause I’ve got these big dumb thumbs. Sorry for the repost! I hope you like this and I would love you forever if you wanted to interact with this again 😊

You had a bright smile on your face as you walked down the halls of your alma mater, Hawkins High. You had barely managed to graduate two years ago and had moved to a bigger city a few towns over to get a better job but now you were visiting your hometown for a long weekend.

You knew tonight was Hellfire night, at least you still hoped it was, and you wanted to see Eddie Munson. You hadn’t seen him since the summer after his first senior year, when you were supposed to graduate together, and you missed him more than you wanted to admit.

You and Eddie had been close in high school, best friends, but you had always had stronger feelings for him. You fell for him, hard, during those years with him. Growing from awkward friends in freshman year, to attached at the hip in senior year. But you never got any sign from Eddie that he wanted more, and you didn’t think someone as amazing as him could fall for you. So nothing ever came of your feelings and you slowly grew apart from the distance.

You arrived at the door to the drama room and stopped to listen outside for a moment, your smile grew as you heard his voice for the first time in a year. “So what do you plan to do, young adventurers?” Eddie asked, you could hear the chatter of his party as they discussed their next move. You took this time to open the door, it’s hinges letting out their signature squeak as you walked through.

All heads shot to you, but you had eyes for only one. Eddie looked at you, a look of genuine surprise on his handsome features that morphed into an excited smile. You felt your heart skip a beat as you saw it, not knowing his was doing the same. “Good to see my favorite Dungeon Master is still adventuring.” You said as you walked further into the room towards the group.

“I better be your only Dungeon Master, sweetheart.” He joked, standing from his throne to quickly close the distance to you. He hugged you tightly and spun you around, relishing in the giggle you let out as he did.

He pulled away after a few moments, taking you in, almost like he couldn’t believe you were standing in front of him now. You guess he probably couldn’t, you felt a pang of guilt in your chest at the thought. You felt like a bad friend.

“Do you want to sit in while we finish this up? We can catch up after?” Eddie asked, a hopeful look on his face as his hands drifted down to lock with yours, squeezing them gently.

“Of course, that’s why I came.” You said, squeezing his hands in return. You shared a soft look before he turned and introduced you to the group, the teens greeting you warmly as Eddie pulled up a chair for you right next to him.

You now found yourself helping Eddie pack up the table after the party cleared out from the room, a comfortable silence hanging between you as you shared shy smiles as you worked.

“So what brings you back to lil old Hawkins?” Eddie asked as he put his guidebooks into his DMing bag.

“I had a long weekend at work, decided to visit the old stomping ground.” You said, handing him some of his mini figures. “See an old friend.” You smiled at him, loving the happy look that appeared on his features from being a reason for your visit.

“It’s good to see you, real good.” He said, placing the bag on the table before turning to you completely and grabbing your hand. “I missed you so much, sweetheart. Thought about you all the time.”

“I did too, Eds. I’m- Im sorry I let us grow apart.” You said, averting your gaze from those beautiful brown eyes of his as you felt shame wash over you.

“It wasn’t just you. It was my fault too, Y/N.” He told you, moving his head in your line of sight so you would look at him again. He felt bold, finally, with you. “I had a hard time talking with you being so far away.” He said softly, taking in your confused expression. “Not because of anything you did!” He added quickly, “My feelings got in the way I guess.” He confessed, rubbing his thumb into your skin, seemingly to comfort himself more than you.

“What do you mean, Eddie?” You asked, your heart was hammering in your chest erratically. This couldn’t be happening.

“I know I’m just your friend. And I was always fine with that. But, I wanted so much more with you, sweetheart. I fucked up and fell in love with you I guess.” He chuckled in self deprecation, his free hand rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

You stood there shell shocked for a moment. Eddie Munson just told you he loved you. You remembered being 16 and having this dream over and over, hell, you had this dream last night. This was everything you had ever wanted and now you were standing like a deer in headlights.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.” Eddie said quickly as he went to pull his hand away, looking down when you held onto it tighter.

“Wait, Eddie.” You said breathlessly, smiling up at him, “I’m sorry. That just surprised me. I don’t think you know how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that.” You said, your smile turning almost bashful as you spoke. You wanted to laugh at the look of surprise on Eddie’s face. “I remember when I fell for you, actually. It was the summer before junior year, you took me to see Grease 2 that day. I couldn’t believe that metalhead Eddie Munson was letting me drag him to a musical.” You chuckled, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “I was singing that ‘We’ll be Together’ song on the way home and you sang it with me, and that’s when I knew. Knew that I loved you.”

Eddie beamed at you as he tentatively placed his free hand on your waist, pulling you into him to close the distance between you. “I wish I had known, I had already liked you for a year at that point.” He said, squeezing your hand in his. You stared up at him, practically nose to nose with how close you were, he even bumped his lightly against yours playfully, “I really want to kiss you right now.” He whispered, his eyes full of adoration as they gazed into yours.

“Then do it.” You whispered back. The two of sharing a smile before his lips crashed onto yours.

Taglist: @srapalestina @yvonneeeee @cityofidek @anaisweird @mrslovesmayahawke @harrys-tittie @becca-alexa

[kazucafe]

genshin men & how they kiss you <3

characters: kazuha, xiao, zhongli, & thoma x gn!reader genre: fluff / warnings: none note: i posted this on an old account and i deleted it so im reposting it now hehe i hope you enjoy reading! likes and reblogs would be deeply appreciated >.>

✦ kaedehara kazuha.

his kisses are sensual and soft. he takes it slowly as if to savor the feel of you in his arms. if you have even a little sense of clarity remaining amidst the kiss (which i doubt), you would feel his lips curl up lightly. once he pulls away, he'll take time to tuck a few strands of hair behind your ear and get dazed at the sight of you.

✦ xiao.

he is careful with his every touch, afraid he would accidentally hurt you. he's too flustered to move flowingly (his heart never seems to calm down and he doesn't know what to do with it), so it would do him a favor if you took the lead. once he eases up a bit more, he shyly pecks your cheeks and the tip of your nose, the gesture causing a wild rosy tint to burn his skin up to his ears.

✦ zhongli.

he is a gentleman through and through. he usually plants kisses on your forehead (kisses on the lips are reserved for when you two are alone), cupping your cheek with one hand and intertwining your fingers with the other. if there's one word to describe the feeling of his affection, it's calm. to him, in this very moment, the seas aren't raging, the winds aren't howling — there is only you.

✦ thoma.

of all the things he is capable of doing so perfectly, he's endearingly clumsy when it comes to you — not 'constantly messes up' clumsy, but 'all over the place' clumsy (he's still learning, go easy on him). you can expect a lot of giggles in between kisses and hands caressing your hair and cheeks.

[httpiastri]

It was literally just THAT ONE PHOTO. There was nothing else on his story. Last night before he made the reserve driver announcement I tried looking back at his story and there was nothing there.

Lowkey Im also wondering like, is the reposts on his story a cover up? Like maybe he wanted to post it to close friends and accidentally did his public story cause Yk stuff happens like that.

But overall, it was that one pic, and then it got deleted maybe like 3-4 hours after he posted it cause my friend saw my message two hours after I shared it to her. But the reserve driver post is convenient for distraction LMAO

that’s literally so random 😭 like ollie what? and even now that i look at it again, even though i know it’s real, it still looks so fake 😭 it looks edited? i can’t be the only one who thinks that???

yeah the thought of it maybe being meant for his “close friends” story crossed my mind too, but in that case how did he not realize it until 3-4 hours later 🫠🫠 tbh his other ig story reposts could be as cover ups lol this is all just so funny 😭😭

[joeyartstuff]

hey i saw your pete wentz drawing on my dash from my like recommended or whatever and i think you make his skin too light. i make art myself and i know that if i accidentally whitewashed someone i would want to be told so i can fix it so im here! besides that the art is very nice.

I just saw this !!! Sorry, my box is somewhat broken. Anyway I think this was about a super old drawing, yeah lol I look at it wondering myself how I would have colored it now, but at the time my reference was a picture of him on stage with a lot of lights so I worked with what I had! Thank you for the concern btw, I realized myself later but I had already posted it and worked a lot on it and didn't want to delete it cause Pete liked it and reposted it so I was pretty happy with it. I draw him very differently now !

[sagendipity]

hey i decided to rewrite everything that i am reposting so it is fresh and you guys aren't so bored. here's "karl realizing he's falling in love with you" that used to be a drabble based on an ask!

reminder: im sage i used to be notplanningshit until i accidentally deleted my old blog

info: karl x reader, gn!reader, fluff, no warnings!

realizing he's falling in love with you

objectively, karl loves everybody. not in the same ways, or to the same degree, but everyone he keeps around in his social circle he does love. he doesn’t entertain acquaintances he doesn’t-quite-like, or that one “friend” who he only sees in when he's with groups. he loves everyone he considers a friend, and that includes you.

that's probably why it takes him so long to realize that what he feels for you now is different from the glowing affection he’s felt since the first conversation the two of you had.

now, he's more likely to catch himself staring at you as you do mundane things, like brushing your hair, or fixing the bedspread. and he just can’t look away, because his eyes are too busy trying to take in everything in front of him, a love his brain can’t seem to capture- so he has to keep looking, keep trying. maybe he’s a little quieter around you because he wants to hear you talk- he always has, he’s always been interested in what you have to say, but now he just wants to hear your voice because it makes him happy; it makes his chest warm in a way that nothing has before. and so he hangs onto you, his chin resting atop one of your shoulders and arms low around your waist, as you wash dishes and explain a theory you’d learned about that day. he barely notices when you finish the dishes because he’s too busy trying to commit every single vocal inflection, every single amused huff, every single “like” and “but”, to permanent memory.

he really starts to notice when he catches himself leaning into your kisses more; when you kiss him on the forehead and he slings his arms around your waist to make you stay, even though it’d just been a passing gesture on your part. when you are laying with him, your nose buried in the warm skin of his neck, and you press a kiss to a freckle on his collarbone, he tightens his arms around you- and oh, man, you’re wearing one of his hoodies, and that really does something for whatever his ribcage is trying to keep contained (certainly not a heart, hearts shouldn’t feel so much). he drops his chin to rest in your tousled mess of hair, and his eyes are a little wet. why? he feels good, he feels amazing, and everything is so nice- it is, it’s just also… so much.

realizing that he’s falling in love with you would also mean he gets comfortable letting his guard down, being vulnerable, admitting when he’s tired and struggling without adding a “haha jk” to the end. he always thinks about how you bring this side of him out of the darkest depths that he’d previously condemned it to (when he realized that being vulnerable and open was not conducive to being popular and entertaining). this is a thing he thinks about a lot- how open he can be with you, without feeling like he’d done something he'd regret afterwards, because he knows for a fact he isn’t comfortable in that way with other people.

he knows he likes you, obviously- he’s dating you. but this is different and unique, and so nice it makes his chest burn in a way that is gutting but so overwhelmingly good. the final straw comes when he finishes up a late night alt stream, his bones aching from sheer exhaustion and eyes trying to close on their own, and he wanders to the bedroom, expecting to find you asleep-

and instead you’re sat on the edge of your shared bed, with two mugs on the bedside table next to you. you're wrapped in a knitted blanket, and wearing one of his hoodies, scrolling twitter while you wait for him. when he walks in you perk up, your own tired eyes brightening with excitement, and you let him walk right up to you so that he’s stood between your legs.

leaning down, he kisses your forehead and mumbles, “why aren’t you asleep?”

“i made us tea,” you say, leaning around to grab the mugs off of the nightstand. they're still steaming. “it'll help you sleep.”

there it is again- his eyes feel wetter. the back of his throat is tighter. he takes the mug in his hands, fingers curling around the ceramic. it's so warm- it smells good, sweet-, “did you add-?”

“honey? mhm.”

he sits down next to you on the edge of the bed, drawing his feet up so he can get comfy, and sips the tea. it's all he can do, other than cry.

the tea is good- of course it’s good, you made it for him.

while he’s trying to douse the raging inferno inside his ribs, you shift so you’re leaning heavily against his side, legs tucked to your chest and mug held near your lips. one hand drops down and fiddles with the hem of his sweater. there's a loose thread, you notice. you think about how you will fix it for him the next time you see it in the laundry basket.

and then karl realizes. oh.

“i love you, you know that?” he murmurs, slipping an arm around your shoulders, and smoothing his hand up and down your arm gently, just because you’re there, and you made him tea, and you’re wearing his hoodie, and you’re leaning against him like you trust him, and you waited up for him so you could go to bed together, and-.

“i love you too,” you whisper back, hiding your smile by taking another sip of tea.

[fanfiction-corner]

Soulmate Au Oneshot

so I lost this post when I accidentally deleted my last blog so im reposting it here. run down is that someone requested a soulmate au oneshot with Technoblade and this is what I got. hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

Warnings: None

Summery: Soulmate Au fluff in which Technoblade finds his soulmate through a song

pronouns: she/her

wordcount: 1465

The cold tundra whipped icy air into the travellers face, her cloak only providing so much warmth. She couldn’t feel her fingertips anymore, they had lost their feeling a while ago. But now her legs began to ache, her feet growing number with each step into the layered snow. Why did she do this trip? Why did she even consider attempting to cross the snowy land, even after the warnings she was given by the villagers she was staying with. On a never-ending quest to find her own place in this world. 

The numbness was slowly taking over her body, she felt like giving up. But then the humming began. The soft tune of a song entering her mind, it only made her more determined to escape the tundra. The tune her soulmate would think of a lot, a reminder that she had a purpose in the deadly storm of snow. She had someone to live for. Despite never knowing who they were, she knew they were out there.

The soft hum of a tune left her, her throat was dry and screamed in response. But the hum kept her going, her numb legs carrying her till she saw a faint light amidst the snow. Her humming ceased as a relieved cry left her, stumbling as she trudged on towards it. The sight became clearer, closer to reach. But she collapsed before the stairs, barely managing to make much more movement as spots of black framed her vision. Her body was shaking uncontrollably, she was on fire now, no longer numb. Yet she felt herself move against her will before her vision went black, passing out as the feeling of an arm tucked under her legs. 

-

The soft crackling of fire filled the cabin's room, the tired man sat beside the sleeping form of the stranger as he applied bandages to their frostbitten skin. His mind running over why on earth someone was out in the storm, his voices giving him no rest either. Their constant chattering and pushing of ideas giving him a headache at this point. 

Fastening off the last bandage, Techno placed her arm down and tucked it under the layers of blankets he had thrown on her. His feeble attempt to warm them up, making a makeshift bed for them with blankets and a few pillows. Placing them beside the fire as he worked on bandaging her blistered skin, making sure he was as gentle as possible. 

The pink-haired man stood, gathering the first aid and heading to his chests to store the items away within the mess. Picking out some food to cook for the two, having to step over the bundle of a stranger on his way to his furnace. Kneeling to light the flames before he got to work on cooking, keeping an ear out for any noise the stranger would make, he wasn't all too worried for them, more just curiosity on how they made it this far and more so why. 

His strong hands tended to the meal, a familiar tune escaping him in the form of a hum. One that he had grown up with and one that calmed him, it was even one that he could hear his soulmate playing on their mind. A prospect that made him smile, his other half enjoying the same lullaby as he. He had no intent on finding them, Techno didn’t wish to drag them into his mess of a life but he would be a liar if he said he didn’t care for them. Obviously, he did. He had a soft spot for the person he was destined to fall for, the person that shared space in his brain. Either being able to hear whatever tune is on their mind. 

A groan caused the hybrid to stop. The tune getting caught in his throat as he turned his gaze over his shoulder, watching the bundle of cloth move with the stranger. The individual in question sitting up, a hiss of pain escaping them as their body ached in protest, wishing for her to stop. She sat anyway, bleary eyes scanning her warm surrounding in confusion before they met a pair of red ones. 

A soft smile rose on the man’s face, turning back around to tent to the sizzling meal before he spoke:

“Feeling alright?” His monotone voice entered her ears, filling her with a strange warmth that the fire couldn’t ever provide. “You were out for a bit, a few hours maybe. I tended to your injuries the best I could, I suggest you stay wrapped up to keep you warm”

She stayed quiet for a moment, having to process his words through the tired haze that layered over her mind. It did settle, however, her eyesight clearing and turning to inspect the tight bandages on her arms. A feeling of relief filling her as her memories rushed back. Her need to reach the cabin and now finding herself safe was more than enough to let her relax in the stranger’s presence, only one thing left on her mind:

“Who are you?” she rasped, her voice protesting when she spoke. She needed water, desperately. 

The man seemed to pick up on this, momentarily discarding cooking the meal to grab the lady a glass of water, staying silent as he moved around the small cabin room. Handing her the glass after a moment, he nodded and turned back to the task at hand. “Technoblade, and yourself?”

His answer satisfied her, letting her relax completely as she sipped her drink, taking a moment before offering him her own name in return. The man nodded as his only response as the two lapsed into a comfortable silence, the injured girl nursing the water as her gaze turned to the flickering flames she was situated by. 

Techno kept a small smile on his face as he finished the food prep, placing the steaks on two separate plates before he sat down beside the bundle. Placing his plate beside him before offering the other to his guest, the person in question gladly accepting the food and silently digging in. 

The comfortable silence found the two again, enjoying one another’s warming company as the storm raged on outside. A calm hum of a tune gracing her mind once again, a warm smile finding its way to her features as she let the lullaby play in her mind. It was a good combo. Good food, warm atmosphere and the reminder of her love. The tune left her in the form of a gentle hum, her fond smile directed towards the flames. 

The music in her mind translated to enter her ears, a deep voice humming along with her. The man sat beside her mimicking the tune. Techno turned his gaze to his guest, meeting her eye and smiling gently. The two reaching the end of the song and lapsing into silence once again. 

“You know that song?” Techno began, a curious tone playing on his tongue. 

“It’s my soulmate’s favourite. They have it on their mind all the time” She explained, her gaze moving to her plate

“It’s my favourite, I’m always humming it,” The pink-haired man confessed, keeping his gaze trained on the woman in front of him. A warmth finding its way into his chest at the prospect of finding them. But getting his hopes up wouldn’t do him too well. 

“Are you suggesting you’re my other half?” Her accusation made him chuckle, shaking his head as he placed his half-eaten meal beside him. 

“We could find a way to test the theory.” His words made her look to him, an eyebrow raised. A nod soon encouraged him to continue. “I could think of a song and you hum it, if you're correct we have our answer. If not, oh well.” 

She thought over the proposition, running it through her mind before giving him a small nod. Moving to place her plate beside his and shuffling in her blankets to get more comfortable, a calm expression as she told him to begin. Waiting patiently as she eyed his expression, seeing him try to rack his brain on a new tune to think of. 

Eventually, it began, a more upbeat tune compared to the lullaby the two had just shared. It caused a grin to spread on her face as she hummed along, her head and shoulders moving to the beat. A soft giggle escaping them before looking to Techno once more, his expression explaining it all. 

“I like that song too,” She spoke, her grin turning to a fond smile that he soon returned. The crackling fireplace becoming the new tune to listen too, comfortable silence finding them yet again as they gazed at one another. 

They had found each other. 

[captainkjones]

To Hizashi, my love

Summary: Aizawa writes Hizashi a letter

Warning: Angst, Implied smut

Words: 541

Ships: Aizawa Shouta (Eraserhead) x Hizashi Yamada (Present Mic)

A/N: I accidentally deleted the first post, so now im reposting it. sigh

To Hizashi, my love,

So there you were. On my doorstep. While it’s raining at half till midnight. Looking at me that same way you did right before I first left. I don’t get it. Why were you here again? Why were you looking at me that way? We stand in silence even as I open my door wider, to get a better look at you. Your clothes were dripping, your hair in a tangled mess, and your eyes were red. You were shivering. And yet you didn’t seem to care. I don’t get it. Why were you here?

I could only back up as you walked inside, closing the door behind you but never taking your eyes off mine. We still stood in silence, even as you walked towards me, reaching out and grabbing me. You pulled me into you, and I couldn’t say anything. I had nothing to say it seemed. But in my head, I had so many questions and yet none at all.

It was so sudden, the pulling and grabbing. The harsh, emotion filled kisses, the pulling and pushing of clothes, the sounds of heavy breathing and what sounded like relief. Like you had found what you were looking for. No words had gone between us, even as my hand wrapped into your golden-blond hair. Even as our backs hit the bed, and even as we were tangled in the blankets.

You were so soft and gentle but it was so fast and rushed, like you were afraid you were going to lose me. Like I would disappear under your touch. I felt the air leave my lungs every time I felt your fingers touch my skin, your touch sending shivers down my spine and through my skin. You used to be so loud, so energetic, but you were silent, and looked so tired.  

Had I done this to you, Hizashi? Had I worn you out emotionally? You seemed to be only a shell of what you were back then? Only the soft touches and few emotions between us left. You never told me why or how you found me. I thought I did good enough, but I realize now, you’ll always find me. Isn’t that right, Hizashi? I know that now, as I think of the heavy breathing and the soft pleading. The emotions we both felt as lips were together, rekindling the flame you gave us before.

I wished I had done better at disappearing, because I wouldn’t have had to see what you had become because of me. I made you slowly lose every part of yourself while you were looking for me. I had to leave, and you knew why. You had met me in a bad part of my life that I tried to get away from. But there you were, back in my life.

I’m sorry I have to leave again, but I’m sure you’ll find me, my beautiful blond. You always will. Or maybe I’ll come back when the time is right. And you’ll be right there waiting for me. Or you’ll be moved on, happy with your life, while I still struggle with mine. I’ll be waiting, and I hope you will be too.

                    Your lost love,

                                         Shouta

[draxums]

tagged by my favorite kite kinnie @misandristpariston ily :]

UNSEXY rules that i have to repost: answer some questions and tag some bloggers you wanna get to know better.

name: i go by snow online :] close friends know my actual name tho

nickname : snowy, snowy snow, bhavs, bhav... ruby calls me bhavie or bhavsie sometimes but thats about it

gender: bigender (i use male n female pronouns)

sexuality: pan

height: 5'2 💔

languages: telegu, english, some hindi and tamil

nationality: america 💔💔💔💔💔

current time: as im writing this, 10:46 am

favorite season: spring cuz its so pretty, the weather is so nice and im one of the lucky few who doesn't get spring allergies so 💕💕💕

favorite flower: ROSES tbh any kind especially white roses and yellow roses... i love the symbolism... carnations are so pretty too and i also love jasmine

favorite scent: no clue. maybe pine or vanilla or new car smell

favorite color: purple (especially the lavender shades), blue, yellow, and green :)

favorite animal: cats, snakes, elephants and dogs ^3^

favorite fictional characters: OH MAN uhh... kohaku from inuyasha, kestrelflight from the warrior cats series, makoto naegi from danganronpa (look away 💖)... artemis from sailor moon... tanjiro kamado from kny.... mina from bnha... that's all i got 🤔

average hours of sleep: on weekdays its 6-7, weekends its around 8

coffee, tea, or hot chocolate: tea tbh unless the hot chocolate is like real milky and sweet... the hot chocolate i drink at home is the kind you mix with either milk or hot water and my parents ALWAYS make it with water 🙄 like...... who do u think i am

number of blankets you sleep with: 1. 1 only.

dogs or cats: I LOVE THEM BOTH but cats ❤

dream trip: i wanna travel the world with my best friends. and go on adventures with them!!!

dream job: psychiatrist maybe or somewhere in the neurology field.

followers: 408! ily all :)

blog established: i just checked in my archives and apparently i made this tumblr account on november 2017 🤔 ive been on tumblr a good while before that though, maybe since 2015?? since i made this acc after i accidentally deleted my old one.

reason for my url: nanika kinnie :/ i used the angel prefix cuuuuuz i rlly like it and i wanted to match with ruby so :)

random fact: ummm i cut my hair recently so its short now 😳 like just past my ears... fun! :) i think it suits me more honestly

taggin some pals: @emberstreak @sashawaybright @catgendered @ambitiousheroes @mourningmachine @zealzealous @noroalia @nyanzbatz @kayhusky @puffedgill

and some mutuals/pals i wanna get to know better :] : @leporiphobic @unanthropic @gonwearscrocs @kufe @kkanao @jagantits @cisphobicgiorno @t0me @gingkinnie @sweet-honey-bunnies

[ellana-ravenwood]

Salt, Tequila, Lemon - Jason Todd x Reader

Please read this intro, thank you very much :  

So. I posted this yesterday, but after a bug on the Tumblr app on my phone it got deleted. I’m super bummed out because it had over 200 notes and quite a few feedbacks that I never got to read because it was accidentally deleted...If the people that took the time to comment things on the story could take a bit more time to write a little comment again and give me their feedbacks, and also if the people that liked and reblog could do it once more...i’d appreciate the hell out of you <3.  So reposting it (thanks god I always have back ups of all my stories now). Written in twenty minutes during my break at work. Bam. Hope you’ll like it :

Also, since Tumblr’s new guidelines and enforcement of it, I DON’T really appear in searches anymore, so the only way for this story to be seen by others than those who follow me is to reblog it. So if you wanna, you can show your support for my writing by doing just that. Thanks very much. You can find my masterlist here : @ella-ravenwood-archives

_________________________________________________

Ok. So. Grandma’s remedy against heartbreak ? Oh, right. 

Salt. Tequila. Lemon. 

Got it. Licking the back of your hand to make the salt stick to it, you pour yourself a massive shot of “To-Kill-Ya” in your coffee mug, not even caring about the fact that there is still some remnant of your cappuccino from last night in it. 

You focus on the sound the liquid makes as it fills your cup. Makes you think about something else. Good. Yup. This was totally gonna help right now. 

“Cheers”, you exclaim to yourself, your empty apartment echoing your voice. 

Salt. 

Wincing. Stingy. Salt on its own is gross. 

Tequila. 

More wincing. Oh my god, it burns. The coffee that was still at the bottom of the cup is an oddly nice touch. 

Lemon. 

The last of the Wincing. 

You spit the piece of lemon you just bit into in the trash and…miss. The yellow fruit falls with a little flat sound on the floor, and you honestly can’t bother to pick it up. Your apartment is a mess anyway, so you just stare at it angrily and pour yourself another drink. 

Salt. Tequila. Lemon. 

You gulp the last of the citrus and shiver. Miss the trash again. 

Damn. This was good. 

Well, actually, it was disgusting. 

You didn’t like strong alcohol and what the Hell ?! Why did you leave a bit of coffee in your cup ? Now that the aftertaste was kicking in, it was actually really gross. If the tequila itself didn’t make you wanna throw up, the stale coffee taste nearly did. Oh, and the salt and lemon combination was as awful as ever. 

You really didn’t like salt, tequila, or lemon. 

But it was still good. 

Because thanks to all this immediate awfulness, you could slowly feel yourself drift into “haze land”, and forget about your worries. 

Forget that your boyfriend of two years just cheated on you with some random woman you worked with. Woman that, by the way, he met at the Christmas “end of the year” party from you work you invited him to…You gave him free champagne and mise-en-bouche and all your love, and he broke your heart. 

It wasn’t your thing, to drink your sorrow away. And it wasn’t your thing either to wallow because of a man…But you genuinely thought he was “the one” (oh what a mistake you would soon realize that was). 

He was always so nice, treating you like a princess. He complimented you daily, and never forgot an important date. He was affectionate, not to an annoying point. He was the perfectamount of affectionate. He was a gentleman and seemed to love you and yet, he betrayed you. 

If a man like him, that was nothing short but sweet and passionate with you, cheated on you, then did that mean you couldn’t trust anyone ? 

Because in your eyes right now, he was perfect. Albeit said eyes were slightly clouded by a a few tequila shots. 

You were downing a fourth drink starting to slowly sob when…

There’s very few things that can get you out of a drunk state in seconds. 

An extremely cold shower could do the trick, for instance. Brings you back to your senses a bit you know ? You wouldn’t magically be sober, but you’d get a clearer mind. Or someone giving you shocking news ! Or like, an event so incredible that your body just forgets how drunk it is for a minute. 

And this event, for you, came at the perfect time. 

Right when you were entering your “sad drunk” phase, which was between the “lol alcohol does NOTHING to me” phase where you downed most of your drinks, and the “dancing on the bar’s counter” phase (a few more drinks and you would have a one woman dance party in your living room, acting as if you were on a bar’s counter and that your name was suddenly “Britney”).

Right when you were about to wallow times a thousand, and cry, and yell “whyyyyyyy ?!” to the sky, arms in the air (drama queen). 

Years later, looking back on that particular event, you’ll start to realize that Destiny HAS to exist. Because come on, it was just too perfect a timing to be a simple coincidence. 

You were about to swallow up your fifth drink, launching yourself head first into the “sad phase” when an ear shattering noise rang all around your apartment. 

Broken glass. 

It was the sound of broken glass. Heightened to the max by your drunkness. You turned on your stool, and…there he was. 

It was a guy. That you were sure of because he had no boobs and too much pecs. And that guy…well that guy just flew right through your window, destroying it. How rude. 

There was glass everywhere. 

How much did a window cost ? Probably a fortune. 

You wondered briefly if you could just use aluminium foil and tape the shit up. There was nothing of value to steal in your apartment anyway, and if aluminium foil could keep meals warm, it definitely worked with a house too right ? 

You sobered up quite a bit, but you were also very drunk when this event happened, so your mind was still in that cloudy weird phase where your priorities were…interesting. 

You worried more about the broken window at first, than about that guy who just launched through it. 

A guy. 

Not just any guy. 

You saw that guy before. 

He was one of those night vigilante your crazy hometown was filled with…RED HOOD !! 

“Thick thighs”, is the first thing you thought right after you recognized him (priorities). 

The second thing you thought was that you needed another drink, and so you downed what was your fifth one, but with that crazy thing happening ended up being on the same level as if it was a second one. You were tipsy, but not “drunk” anymore. 

The third thing that came to your mind was…Is he still alive ? 

No cause, he was like, just laying there, on your living room’s floor, not moving. 

“…Outch.” 

Oh. He spoke. 

So he ain’t dead. Good, means you can have another drink then, you don’t need a clear mind to call an ambulance or something. 

Oddly enough, in your half-drunk half-sober state, this sounded completely reasonable. Nevermind if Red Hood had some internal bleeding or something. He talked. He was probably fine. 

A minute passed, and you just sat there, sipping up your tequila in between taking a pinch of salt and biting into a piece of lemon. 

Salt, tequila, lemon. Great remedy against heartbreaks. 

Wait, were you heartbroken ? Really ? You couldn’t really recall that fact now. But, yeah…it was the reason why you were drinking right ? Because right now, all you could think about was the fact that this Red hood guy had abs for days…

This unforeseen event sobered you up quite a bit, but the two shots you just took kinda brought you back to the same state than you were before.

Well. Not quite. You were drunk as hell again, but seemed to have avoided the “sad phase”. Instead, Red Hood bursting quite literally through your window took you to another road. 

The : “Cool, I got a drinking buddy phase”. Well, taking for granted he didn’t have any internal bleeding and wouldn’t die while biting into a lemon wedge. 

“Tough day ?” 

You ask him, as he slowly sits up and shakes his head, trying to regain his senses. He looks towards you and seem surprised (or at least you think he is, because he wears a mask so…kinda hard to tell). 

************

Jason definitely thought he was alone in this place, because no sane person would just sit there, not saying anything, as someone simply jumped through their window. Nope, most people would just freak out. Scream. 

He knows, because it’s not the first time he falls through a window during a night on duty. And every single time it happened, people freaked out. Screamed. Threw stuffs at him, or hid away begging for their life to be spared. 

And yet here you were, half a bottle of tequila in front of you, surrounded by lemon wedges you bit into, and table salt all over your hand, just staring at him curiously. And did you just say : “tough day” ?  

Well, Jason guessed the empty half of the bottle was why you were so chilled about it all. He sat up, and slowly got back to his feet. 

Usually, going through a window meant the end of the night for him. He’d go back to one of his secret stash, patch himself up and get some rest. Most of the time, he fell through windows because someone pushed him or threw him there…Though today, he just embarrassingly missed a step and fell by himself. 

Of course, no one would ever now he tripped while jumping from one building to another (you lived on the last floor) and went careening into your home (and life). Nope, the official story would be that he fought a fierce enemy and was thrown into that window. Finding fake villains name was easy, given how truly ridiculous some could be. 

Tim and Damian were still after the “Illusive Blue Man” that he totally made up that one time he walked into a poll and had a huge black eye that he couldn’t quite explain…Oh man, he had to stop telling such elaborate lies and just say “I fought with a few guys last night” without more explanation. 

But he couldn’t help it. And those kids believed everything he said, it was too tempting…But for now, this wasn’t the issue. Nope. 

He did a quick check of his body and knew he wasn’t really hurt (thanks “dad” for the amazing body armor ugh ?), so he was planning on leaving that poor girl’s house and send a mystery check in the mail to pay for the damage (money stolen from a certain Bruce Wayne of course, as if he would pay himself). 

Yup. He was just gonna stand up, and go on his way and…somehow, he found himself sitting on the stool opposite side of this mysterious girl, and now she was peppering salt on his hand ? 

“Salt”, she says, and she has a cute drunk voice. Jason almost forgets he just went through a window a few minutes ago. 

“Tequila”, she continues, downing her drink and pointing at the one she poured him. He doesn’t even care the she poured it in a cereal bowl that she didn’t even seem to have clean…He drunk worst things in worst recipient. He turns away to take off his mask and so that she can’t see his face, and “bottom’s up”. 

“Lemon !” she finishes, biting into the sour fruit and spitting it in the direction of the trashcan but missing completely. The lemon wedge goes to lost itself amongst his fallen brothers…

Jason bites into his own lemons, and spits it. Right into the garbage. 

There’s a slight pause, where she just stares at the trashcan, and then at Jason, back to the trashcan, and then turns to him again and simply says : 

“Wow.” 

************

So. This was surreal. 

Here you were. In your home. Taking tequila shots. With…Red Hood. 

One of Gotham’s night vigilante. The most violent one. But the dude seemed chilled. He was holding his liquor really well. 

And now you were talking about your broken heart, telling him the story as if he’d been your friend for years. And he was listening. Intently. And reacting to what you were saying. It had been a LONG time, since you had this kind of talk with anyone, and despite the fact you were drunk, you still noticed how nice it felt to have someone to talk to. Someone that genuinely listened. 

“And then he slept with her !” you say angrily. 

“Nooooooo !?!” 

“Yes, he did ! He slept with…with…what was her name…”

“Nicole. From accounting.” 

“Right, Nicole from accounting ! That bitch ! She always just…counts and shit ! And he slept with her ! Nicole from accounting ! Whom he met thanks to me, by the way ! At a partyyyy !! At my wooooork !!” 

“What an ass.” 

“Right ?! Oh but he had such a good ass though…Quite firm. But whenever he wore jeans, it was super flat.” 

“So, not such a good ass in the end then ?” 

“I guess not. You have a good ass. Popping right out in this outfit of yours.” 

Red Hood chuckles, and the sound of his laughter makes you forget that you just said something incredibly embarrassing. His voice is…nice. Deep. Manly. You like it. You wanna make him chuckle some more, so you say, hoping : 

“And it looks very firm. Not just quite firm.” 

It works. He snorts and it’s very cute. Oh wow. He can be sexy and cute. Full package. You smile a bit dreamily. 

For a second, he’s lost in that smile of yours, and there’s a silence installing itself in the room. A comfortable one. That you break : 

“Ok. So now, he’s not that perfect anymore ! He got no ass ! Penalty points ! I never notice how un-assed he was before…” 

Jason smiles and damn. He’s hot. 

Somewhere along the way, he stopped turning his face away from you whenever he took a shot, and just ended up taking his helmet off. He was probably hoping that you’d black out or something, so you wouldn’t remember his face (or he just didn’t care). 

In any case, you were pretty sure you never saw him before. His face kinda reminded you of an old memory. Of someone you saw somewhere long ago, when you were a kid…Which wasn’t really a big help right ? 

Right. You had no idea who he was. And in your drunken state, probably couldn’t piece anything together anyway. So even if you did know who he could be, you wouldn’t know in the end anyway…Makes perfect sense right ?

What you knew was : he’s hot. 

This white streak in his hair did something to you that you couldn’t explain. And that jawline ? You would love to get cut on that bitch.  It could actually cut a bitch, you were sure of it. Those blue eyes ? You’ve never seen someone with such blue eyes. And did you mention to yourself how muscular he was ? Because man you only saw guys like this in magazines ! 

But beyond his handsome features, he seemed like a nice guy. Like he was listening to you, a total stranger. And this realization suddenly raised your guard up. 

You also thought that your ex-cheating-boyfriend was a nice guy. And come to think of it, who the hell just barge in someone’s home like that, and actually stay to drink tequila shots ?! Wait but…in your guts…it’s not like with your ex. 

You don’t think he’s a nice guy. You know he is. 

************

There’s a visible shift in your mood, after this realization. So far, you talked to him about your broken heart freely, and he listened. 

Oddly enough, no words that came out of your (perfect) mouth bored him. Jason wasn’t sure wether it was the alcohol or not, but you captivated him. 

But in a split second, and without him knowing why, your features changed. You were now frowning. Like an unhappy little kid. It was kinda cute, but he didn’t like it because…why were you frowning ? 

He tries to lighten up the mood and says : 

“Well here you go. See, you didn’t loose the perfect guy, his ass was flat in jeans. Can’t work with that, can you ? I bet we can find other flaws. Make you realize he actually was a looser.”  

Your guard is up, but you can’t help but smile a bit, plus you were frowning just now because you realized you just knew you could trust that total stranger, and it was so weird…. 

Besides, no harm in indulging this, because you’re pretty sure it’ll make you feel better to try and see the bad side of your ex-boyfriend, not just his good ones. No one was perfect. And so, still a bit careful, you say : 

“Well…He never got any of my Tv shows or movie references.” 

“Well, here’s a point to take off of his “perfectness”. Doesn’t get pop culture references. Deal breaker.” 

“Yeah…Yeah you’re right. It is. He also used to hate when I made jokes. I like puns ya know ? Terrible ones. Well, he was always embarrassed whenever I made them in public.” 

“Ashamed of his girlfriend, doesn’t sound very gentlemanly, right ?” 

“Yeah. It doesn’t. Maybe he wasn’t such a perfect gentleman…He also used to not want to go out with me if I didn’t wear any make-up and was dressed just casually.” 

“What you mean, he never just went out with you ?” 

“We only went out on dates. I had to dress up. I could be casual home though…” 

“Well goodie, the man let you be yourself when you were home. Big deal. To be honest, sounds like a douchey move.” 

“That was kinda douchey…I never cared what he looked like.” 

And it’s true. For you, physical appearance wasn’t everything. And sure you thought your ex was hot and all, but only because you liked his personality too. You liked his jokes, you were never ashamed of anything he said. 

And right now, sure that stranger that bursted through your window was hot, but the reason you felt like you could tell him things was because he just made you comfortable by his mere aura. Because he gave you such a good vibe. 

You never were fully about appearances. It was always just a bonus for you…So it never occurred to you why your ex would only hang out in public with you if you were pampered. Like he used to hate when you just wore hoodies and no make-up, even if you didn’t need make-up to be beautiful. 

Comes to think of it, he was very much about appearances…Uh. Interesting. You never realized that before. 

You turn to Red Hood, and the look on your face says it all. You’re slowly realizing maybe you didn’t just lost “the one”. The vigilante says : 

“Ok, so : no ass, no humor apparently, doesn’t get pop culture references, and was kind of a jerk when it came to going out with you…” 

“He did tell me often that I was beautiful though. Including when I just woke up from a night out, and was awful looking.”

“Yeah, but he never went out with you looking like that. He shouldn’t feel ashamed of hanging out with you looking like that. Just like he shouldn’t feel embarrassed when you joke. He can be exasperated, like if you really make bad puns, sure. And he can think it’s unfunny…But embarrassed ? No.” 

“I guess…I never thought about it.” 

“Well let me tell you, as someone who does not know neither you nor him personally, he sounds like a bit of a jerk. Let’s not forget he cheated as well. Like, that’s not something good people do. Especially not with…Nicole from accounting.” 

“Nicole from accounting…Yeah. They’re together now though.” 

“So ? He should’ve broken up with you if he realized he liked her. That’s the right thing to do. Trust me on that, I put villains behind bars for a living, I know what’s right or wrong.” 

“I heard you kill criminals.” 

“Used to. I used to kill criminals, I had issues. I’ll tell you one day if you wanna. It’s a real tear jerker story. With clowns and crowbars. And I’m telling you that because I’m drunk, right now. Also, if we want to be specific, I don’t actually make a living out of putting villains behind bars. Like, I don’t get paid or anything…” 

Jason finds himself ranting about anything that comes to his mind, and though he hears himself claim it’s because of the alcohol he’s saying all this, he realizes maybe there’s something else making him want to talk. 

You. A total stranger he walked upon. Or rather, went-through-the-window upon.  Who didn’t freak out when he went through said window. And instead, invited him over to have tequila shots. 

Because, according to your grandmother, the best remedy to…basically any problems in life, was “salt, tequila, lemon”. 

“She was a wise woman.” 

He says, and you turn to him, clearly not understanding what he was talking about. 

“Who ?” 

“Your grandma. For saying that salt, tequila and lemon was a great remedy against heartbreaks and all.” 

“Oh. Yeah. I wouldn’t know, I never met her. She died before I was born.” 

“Well what she passed on to your parents is great.” 

“What ?”

“Well, that “salt, tequila and lemon” thing, I assume she said that to your mom or dad, and then they said that to you, and then it became your grandma’s advice. Right ?” 

“…Nah. It’s an excuse I made up. Whenever I need to justify something, I just say “like my grandma said, ain’t no shame in eating an entire tub of ice cream if you want to”, and then people are just like “oh yeah, cool”, because when you say the word “grandma”, then it gives a perspective to your words ya know ?” 

Jason had no idea what you were on about, but he loved it. You seemed to be very smart. And witty. And funny. The hell did that guy cheated on you for ? And why was he ashamed of going out in public with you when you weren’t dressed up ?! 

You currently wore “Hello Kitty” pyjamas, had absolutely no make up on, and your hair was a mess, and he thought you looked gorgeous.

“Why are you so nice ?” 

Your question takes him by surprise, and for a few seconds he doesn’t register it and just says : “ugh ?” 

“To me. Why are you so nice to me ? Is it the alcohol ? Does it make you nice ? Or are you just nice to every stranger ? Every girl you destroy the windows of ? Or are you like my ex ? You seem nice, but then you go off and cheat on your girl simply because you like another girl and you’re too cowardly to break up with your current girl ?” 

Jason hiccups slightly, and says : 

“No, I’m not nice to any girl I met. I’m actually usually kind of a jerk, too “brutally honest”. But you…I don’t know. You give me good feelings. Oh and here’s to add on his flaws list. “Coward”. Can’t even break up with a girl, has to wait to get caught red-handed and break her heart. Cooooward. Bad flaw. Kind of guy who runs in the face of danger, instead of standing by you.” 

It’s probably the fact that he said “you give me good feelings” that spurs this in you. That gives you a new clearer perspective on things. 

“My heart wasn’t broken.”

It’s a shock, to you. This realization. This sudden feeling jumping in your face. You…are not heartbroken. You’re mad. You’re frustrated. You feel betrayed. You feel a crazy burning anger towards your ex for toying around with you like that. For not having the balls to just break up, after spending two years together. 

He was suppose to know you. To be your friend. Things could have turned out better. He could have just come up to you, say the truth, and…You were pretty sure you’d still be friend. Because he really was a great guy. 

He really was all the good thing you though about him. He made a mistake, an unforgivable one in your book. But he was a great guy. 

He was just…not your great guy. Not anymore at least. 

And you realized, there, quite drunk, that…It was ok.  

Your heart wasn’t broken.  

Your heart wasn’t broken. 

Your pride was. Your trust was. But your heart ? …Maybe you weren’t completely in love with him. You were best friends, yes, but love ? Maybe it wasn’t love…

Your heart wasn’t broken. 

“My heart isn’t broken.” 

You tell Red hood, looking at him right in his wonderful ocean blue eyes. And he looks right back at you, and just nods. Just like that. And then he pours you one last tequila shot. 

Because like your grandma would say : “When you make great discovery about yourself…Salt, tequila, lemon”. 

************

It took you only a few hours with him to realize that you weren’t in love with your ex, and that was kinda scary. Because this realization didn’t come from nowhere. 

Nope. 

But when he said that your ex broke your heart, you felt obligated to tell him that no. No your heart wasn’t broken. You were sad and angry, yes, but not heartbroken. For you, in that moment, it was important for this total stranger to know you weren’t actually in love. 

Hell, you didn’t even know yourself you weren’t that in love before you talked to him. It just came as a sudden, yet utterly true revelation. 

Because, and this wasn’t the alcohol speaking…You felt incredibly attracted to that guy. To Red Hood. Not just because of the white streak in his hair, and the eyes, and smile, and voice, and abs, and thick thighs. That too, sure, but not only…Nope. 

Nope. Not because of this. 

But because he had a tough day (he said so himself, explaining to you how he went through the window…he was fighting a super-villain when he got flung through your window, tough tough time ahem), and yet he sat with a crazy lady that peppered salt on his hand and practically forced him to take a tequila shot…

Because you could see in his eyes, and felt in your guts that he didn’t have an easy life…and yet he took a break from whatever he was doing to just sit with you and listen to you. He didn’t even make sense, that you trusted those feelings so fiercely. And yet, you did. Because he listened to you. 

He saw you were struggling and he stayed. And though you felt you couldn’t trust anyone at that time…You oddly felt like he was ok. 

Like he wouldn’t be the kind of guy to cheat, or run in the face of danger, leaving you all alone to fight off demons. 

In a few short hours, you fell for this guy more than you ever fell for your ex. 

What did that say about you uh ? …That was pretty pathetic…

************

Jason didn’t think that you were pathetic at all. 

On the contrary. If he went to seat with you, and drink with you, is because he was instantly mesmerized by you. 

And though he didn’t know at first why, now he was sure of it. 

It’s because you didn’t freak out. And something told him it wasn’t only because you were a bit drunk (he fell in drunk people’s home before…none reacted like you). 

Nope. It was because you were special. He just knew it. Special in every way. Funny. Beautiful. Genuinely listening to him when he was speaking. 

He peppered his own problems within your story, as you told him. And you listened. Hell, even referenced a few things he said early on, way later, while you were crazy drunk. You listened. 

You gave a total stranger that seemed to have a tough day some salt. And tequila. And lemons. 

And then you cared. You asked him a thousand times if he was ok, and he basically had to take off his armor to prove it so (to your eyes’ greatest pleasure…mm mm mm those muscles). 

Captivated. He was captivated by you. It was strange, and though he knew it was because you were special, he still was unclear as to why his feelings were that strong. 

For someone he just met. And barely knew. And only knew while drunk. 

You were just…Special. 

************

It was surreal. The all thing. 

What started as a night where you planned on wallowing your pain and drinking…ended up changing your life. 

And no one could convince you that it wasn’t Fate. Because what were the odds that Red Hood would fall through YOUR window after tripping (yeah you didn’t buy that “fighting super-villains thing” at all) ?

What were the odds of his timing being so perfect, arriving just before you started to cry ? Because there was no doubt in your mind that if he had come a few seconds later, he wouldn’t have stayed. 

He would have found a crying mess, and maybe he would have tried to confort you but…You wouldn’t have answered. In your “sad phase”, you only cry and whine. He would have eventually left. And the wonderful talk you’d just have, would never have happened. 

But instead. He came right before your lips touch that fatal shot of tequila that would have brought you into the “sad phase”. And took your drunkness down a notch. Rerouted your evening. 

You weren’t wallowing anymore, you were ranting. 

Sharing your anger and frustration. 

And he helped you realize that your ex wasn’t that perfect…That maybe it was just not meant to be…After all, he cheated on you. 

Uh. What a shame. You didn’t even know his name…”Red Hood”…

You wished you knew his name. 

************

The morning lights were rising, and the bottle of tequila was long gone. 

There were still salt and lemons though. For some reason, you decided to buy the entire grocery store’s stock of lemons. 

Red Hood stood up, and said he had to go. 

He was nice about it. Said it was a pleasure to have spend the night with you. You both laughed about the innuendos that ensued. 

You were exactly on the same page. And he understood all your joke referencing to pop culture… 

But it was time for him to go. And he apparently had no intention of telling you his real name. He didn’t hint either at ever coming back to see you again. 

And there was that. Just a nice night, spend talking to a genuine friend that you’ll never see again. 

A genuine friend that you didn’t even know a few hours before. 

Maybe it was the alcohol speaking. Maybe not. 

And even if you ended up never seeing him again, this evening truly changed your life…At least, it saved you from a heartbreak. Made you realize it wasn’t that.

Though, now, as he climbs out of the window again (he couldn’t possibly use the front door), you feel like the actual heartbreak is starting. 

Grandma’s remedy against heartbreak ? Right. 

Salt, tequila, lemon…

But the tequila is all gone. 

“I’ll send someone to fix that window…Sorry again about that. …Bye.” are his last words, and then he’s out. 

And the tequila is all gone. 

************

… 

…

…

…

Days pass by in a blur. 

Salt. Tequila. Lemon. 

Ugh. But you don’t want to this time. You don’t want to get drunk to forget. 

You don’t want to forget him. And you know it’s ridiculous to get that worked up over a guy you met one night and that will never come back. That you didn’t even know the name of. 

This entire night was weird anyway. 

Getting drunk with a dangerous night vigilante. Pouring your heart out to him, and him doing the same. The hell were you even thinking ? 

Salt. Tequila. Lemon. 

That would be a good idea to do this right now, because man…your heart hurt. More than when you discovered your ex sleeping with Nicole. From accounting. But you can’t resolve yourself to drink. To forget. Nope. Instead you…

*Knock knock knock*. 

Uh ? You take a quick look at your clock in the kitchen.10 pm. Who the hell is coming at 10 pm ?! It can only be bad news. Especially in Gotham…You peep into the eyehole and…

WHAT ?! 

You open your door quickly, and… 

“Told you I’d send someone to fix your window.” 

It’s him. It’s Red hood. But in…civilian clothes. 

His ass doesn’t look flat in jeans. 

He’s holding a window wrapped in cardboard, and there’s a toolbox at his feet. 

“Yeah, you did…come in.” 

************

Jason Todd. 

That’s his name. And connections are fast to be made in your brain. Jason Todd. Bruce Wayne’s adopted son. That supposedly died…ten years ago. 

And is Red Hood now. Oh. It makes sense. Even his little “killing criminals” thing while Batman never killed. You easily put two and two together. 

Red Hood. Jason Todd. Bruce Wayne. 

Wow. Can’t believe you never guessed that before. Of course Bruce Wayne is Batman. He’s got the motive, the means, the excuses…It’s so obvious. And yet, you never realized. And no one else in Gotham ever realized. 

Jason Todd. 

Now you know his name. 

And he’s fixing your window. Nobody ever fixed windows for you before (even those who broke it).

Um. To add to the “perfect man” list : “Handy”. 

Jason Todd.  

He quickly works the window up, and then he turns to you. While he was working you talked, as if you knew each other for years. Joking around. Like old friends. Like old extremely good and close friends. 

It fits. It clicks. It’s natural. You and him, him and you. 

Barely knowing each others, and yet knowing each others the best. 

Jason. Todd. 

He turns to you now, and with a smirk, he says : 

“Ya know, my grandma always say that when something good happens to you, you need to celebrate. And I feel like this, right now, you and I, though I have no idea what we’re doing and where it’s going…Well it’s still something to celebrate. And she always says, my grandma, that to celebrate perfectly you need…” 

You smile. 

Yeah. You don’t know where this thing between you two is going, but you do know that you never met someone who so fully understood you. 

And in such a short span of time. And you know you’re not mistaking. It’s a feeling too strong to be a mistake. 

He came back to fix your window for god’s sake. And trusted you enough to tell you his actual name. Without a second thought. Which meant everything. Especially since from all the hint he let slip through last time you saw each others, about his father, well…let’s just say telling people his real name wasn’t really something he was used to. 

But it just works. It fits. It clicks. It’s not like with your ex, because you don’t think you know it does. It just does. The fact that you say those next few words in perfect sync finishes to convince you : 

(“…And she always says, my grandma, that to celebrate perfectly you need…”) 

“Salt, tequila, and lemons.” 

______________________________________________

I’m so mad the Tumblr app crashed and I deleted the original post...Y’all were great and reblogged the hell out of it ! Which is why it got so many notes in such a short span of times. And feedbacks. I haven’t had that many feedbacks on a story in a long time. So just one last time and I won’t bother you with that again : Please, if you enjoyed this story, don’t hesitate to reblog it and share it with others. People who don’t follow me can’t really find my stories anymore so...you’re a big help by spreading them. It’s always very encouraging. 

And if you got the time, feedbacks are always hella appreciated and always make my day a little brighter <3. 

[raiswriting]

dancing with your ghost

inspired by this song

warnings: symptoms that are similar to mental health issues like depression but never explicitly stated

genre: pure angst sorry

pairing: lucas/yukhei wong x reader

summary: ummm heartache???? basically the aftermath of a ‘hey let’s pretend to be dating bc i need someone to take to this wedding and you need someone to scare off your ex’ type of story

word count: 1582

a/n: lmao i am reposting this because it absolutely flopped the first time hehehe ALSO i made a playlist to go with this story. the first half or so is the same playlist that is mentioned in the story then the second half is more about the theme of it. i put way too much effort into it but i hope you enjoy it!! 

there was an emptiness that couldn’t be filled

an ache that couldn’t be soothed

a feeling of nostalgia for what never was

honestly you couldn’t be sure if this hole in your chest was a bad thing anymore. you’d grown so used to it that the thought of one day living with out it seemed so fantastical and out of reach. you found a sort of morbid comfort in the sorrow

time has slipped away as routine comfortably took its place. mondays became indistinguishable from wednesday or friday. the only thing separating saturday and sunday from the rest was the lack of work.

your thoughts drifted from the idea of getting up and taking a shower or even just washing your face to the cup of tea that’s been sitting on the coffee table and once more to your phone lying next to it. it lit up with yet another text message to which you would send yet another half-assed response of ‘id love to get together but work has been super busy lately and i need a me weekend.’ you wonder how many more ‘me weekends’ you’d be able to have before someone saw through it.

you just couldn’t have that face to face conversation with any of them. how do you explain that none of it was serious. or that all he needed was someone to take to family get-togethers for when his uncles would ask about his love life. or that you had grown so used to his hand in yours that the emptiness you felt when he wasn’t there scared you. or that you missed him. how could you look someone in the eyes and say that you had not only lost a love but also a best friend. how do you describe that hurt. how do you say that you feel unlovable. how.

you couldn’t say those thoughts aloud because as soon as you did they’d become real. he would really be gone. and happy. and in love. and you would have to admit that you were hurting. you’d have to admit that it was really over.

so instead you lay here on the sofa. and keep it all in. sometimes you can’t help but remember him. and how happy he’d been.

the knock on your door drew your attention from the sheet of cookies ready to go into the oven.

there he stood in the doorway with a smile so bright that it put the stars on the clearest of nights to shame.

‘hey y/n’ he pulled you into a warm embrace. the scent of his cologne was intoxicating. strong and inviting, the prefect reflection of his personality.

‘hey lucas. i wasn’t expecting to stop by today.’

‘yeah i just wanted to share some good news with you. like really good news. like i came here as fast as I could kind of news.’ he spoke so excitedly as he followed you back into the kitchen.

‘well spit it out,’ you reply while placing the sheet of cookies in the oven.

‘i found someone,’ his smile wider than ever.

you almost dropped the sheet of cookies as you took in what he said. you knew this day would come. the day he would find someone to actually love and care for. the day he no longer needed you. but still you hoped and prayed that maybe there was something there. maybe the secret touches shared between just the two of you actually meant something. that maybe he’d choose you.

he didn’t.

‘so get this. i was walking into the coffee shop on seventh street that me and you usually go to. and i bumped into this gorgeous girl and spilled her whole coffee so i offered to buy her a new one.’ he rubbed the back of his neck and looked to the floor. ‘so cheesy and cliché i know. but y/n this girl. we talked and talked and she made everything seem to….right. when I looked into her eyes i just felt…’ he sighed and leaned against the counter.

‘…like everything just seemed to make sense for once.’ you finished the sentence for him as you checked on the cookies.

‘yeah exactly’ he didn’t even try the hide his love struck expression. it was clear as day that he was really falling. ‘when i talked to her it was so easy. almost as if we knew each other for years.’

we did.

you looked him in the eyes for the first time since he broke the news and forced a smile to your face. you couldn’t even fathom the idea of ruining this for him.

‘lucas im ecstatic for you.’

‘really?’

‘of course. if there’s anyone who deserves true love and happiness in life, it’s you.’ and you meant that. it just hurts that he found it in someone else.

‘and hey. at least now you actually have someone to take to all your family functions.’

he chuckled lightly, ‘yeah you’re right. i don’t know if your cheeks could handle another one if aunt maya’s pinches.’

‘the pinches i could handle,’ you say as you forced a laugh out, ‘but I’d have to buy a gym membership if i had another dinner at your parents house.’

‘it’s not my fault mom loves insisting on third helpings’ this time he let out a full real laugh, remembering all the shared glances between the two of you at a dinner table. wondering how you could possibly eat another slice of meatloaf.

‘we can celebrate your new found love with some cookies, if you’d like. they should be done in a minute or two.’

the smile dropped slightly from his face. ‘oh y/n. i’d love to really but i promised angelina that i’d meet her again for coffee. i just stopped by the tell you the good news.’

‘of course, of course. you should get going then. a love like this comes around once in a life time.’ and who am i to stand in the way of someone living their lifetime.

lucas cast a sympathetic look before pushing himself off of the counter and embracing you once more.

‘thank you for everything y/n. seriously. you’ve helped me out so much. if you need anything let me know.’ his cologne was still so strong. and it hurt to know that someone else was going to experience it like this.

‘that’s what best friends are for lucas. you’ll be the first person i call when im sick and throwing up everywhere.’

you could feel him chuckle lightly before placing a kiss on the top of your head.

‘you got it y/n.’

the door shut, leaving you alone.

your hands shook as you took the cookies out of the oven and set the tray in the stove top. they shook as you turned it off. they shook as you took off the oven mits. they shook as you ran them down your face only to find them wet with tears. and they shook as you lowered yourself to the kitchen floor.

your hands were steady now and found their way to that playlist like muscle memory. you had long since deleted all the photos of you and him. but you just couldn’t find the strength to delete this. he had made it for you before the whole fiasco of pretending to be together had ever crossed either of your minds. he said that ‘these song remind me of us.’ and maybe you had gotten your own hopes up. maybe you had searched too deeply between the lines of lyrics. maybe you looked so hard that you had only found what you wanted to. because they were just songs. songs of bad timing and unrequited love. but at the end of the day still. just. songs.

as they played throughout the room. filling the stale silence as your body began to move, lifting you from the couch. your gaze landing on the sweater which rested on the arm of a chair. it was his. he had left it accidentally when spending the night here one time. you had meant to give it back for some time now but haven’t been able to. everytime you had gained the courage to call him and ask him over, he was busy. eventually you stopped calling. and he stopped texting. stopped checking in. so there the sweater sits. still smelling of him.

your body began to move once more reaching out for it and pulling it close to you. maybe if you breathed in enough of his scent, it’d feel like he was here with you again. of course it didn’t but it was as close you could get.

your hips swayed to the rhythm. as your feet worked their way around the living room. stepping over pillows and discarded take out. you danced for the first time in what felt like years. you felt the tears fall but paid them no mind. still clutching the article of clothing impossibly close to you, you sang along with the lyrics.

Yelling at the sky

Screaming at the world

Baby, why’d you go away?

I’m still your girl

Holding on too tight

Head up in the clouds

Heaven only knows

Where you are now

I stay up all night

Tell myself I’m alright

Baby, you’re just harder to see than most

I put the record on

Wait ‘til I hear our song

Every night I’m dancing with your ghost

Every night I’m dancing with your ghost

a/n: there it is. i was listening to this song today and got super inspired and just had to write. there’s also a reference to a hobo johnson song if you can find it ;) thanks for reading. let me know if you’d like a prequel to this when reader and lucas were together. i hope you enjoyed and pls feel free to leave constructive criticism. thanks, rai :)

[btsgfx]

[REPORT] Multi-fandom Re-edited GIFs Reposter @kimsnamjoons / @girlssgeneration

Account @kimsnamjoons​​ (now @girlssgeneration as of 11/15) has been re-editing other content creators’ gifs from multiple fandoms and claiming them as their own since at least November 2017. Dayna was contacted by at least 5 gif-makers, other individuals, and admin Tiffany (11/05/18) over 2 weeks (10/22 to 11/05); and has blocked all of them. In November 2017 gif-makers also contacted Dayna, made call-out posts, and were also blocked.

Instead they continue to claim they make their own gifs when replying to asks and in personal posts on @kimsnamjoons​​ and their twitter account, @cutienamjoons. Further, they say that they feel “their” gifs are not appreciated, but they plan to continue reposting anyway. They repost as many as 7 compilation gif sets in a day.

You can see their reposts under their tag #dayna’s shit and #mine. If you see your work was reposted, you can report misattribution with this form in order to remove all reblogs of the post.

You can show your support for content makers by:

blocking @girlssgeneration​ to prevent accidentally spreading their reposts;

blacklisting ‘kimsnamjoons’ and ‘girlssgeneration’ using new xkit or tumblr savior web browser extension;

reblogging our report or sharing on Twitter;

contacting the users they follow and/or reblog from to block @girlssgeneration

sending an ask and/or DM @girlssgeneration to stop reposting and to delete their reposts;

contacting content makes whose work you recognize have been reposted.

Community pressure may stop this user and prevent others from reposting or sharing reposts. We encourage expressing your anger, but we do not condone violent or threatening messages.

Below the cut we have compiled:

admin contact with @kimsnamjoons and their responses;

direct evidence of reposting;

evidence they don’t have the technical skills to make the stolen gifs.

Contact with @kimsnamjoons​

On 11/05 I contacted Dayna @kimsnamjoons​ after receiving a reposting report on their account from 3 different users on 10/12, 10/28, and 10/31. These reports included links to multiple call-out posts made in October 2018 by other gif-makers. In response they tweeted (source):

I received no response and was immediately blocked, but Dayna did make personal comments about my DMs on their blog and (copy-pasted to) their twitter. I reblogged and responded to their comments on @btsgfx. Dayna then blocked @btsgfx​ and tweeted, lying to an audience of 0, that I called them out cause they’re a multi-stan instead of cause they’re a reposter (source).

Dayna seems to think blocking stops gif-makers from seeing their stolen gifs on their blog too (source).

This is not the first time a community of gif-makers have accused Dayna of re-editing and reposting. In November 2017, gif-makers also contacted Dayna, made call-out posts, and were blocked. In response to being called out, Dayna started adding their own watermark to reposted gifs (source).

This was their response to a call-out post in 2017 (source):

#i dont wanna say im bitter #i have never & w i l l n e v e r steal gifs #i know how it feels to see something youve worked so hard on be reposted and i would never wish that on anybodyim just pissed someone would literally make a post about me saying a stole them im???im????? #i dont mean to be that bitch but uhhhhhh idk how else to say it #i make these gifs myself

To see the numerous call-out posts (including some with evidence of their own) search for text posts in #kimsnamjoons. They have consistently until now (11/14) claim that all re-edited and reposted gifs are their own and despite the “undeserved hate” they plan to continue “posting their own gifs” (source).

Evidence of Reposting

Dayna’s gif sets have all been compilations sets with gifs of different video source quality, sharpness, coloring, frame rate, and at times even gif sizes. These are obvious giveaways of reposting, however below we overlaid Dayna’s re-edited gifs on top of the original gif-makers’ as undeniable evidence. They match frame by frame with the same number of frames, pixel content, and are cropped smaller than the original gifs.

To prove the below overlaid gifs are Dayna’s gifs we have overlaid, we link OP’s gif set and Dayna’s gif set.

Dayna’s re-edited gif set

1st row, right in Dayna’s (link above) overlaid on top-left in OP’s gif set 3rd row, left in Dayna’s overlaid on 4th gif in OP’s  4th row, left in Dayna’s overlaid on bottom-left in OP’s  4th row, right in Dayna’s overlaid on bottom gif in OP’s

bottom row, left in Dayna’s re-edited gif set overlaid on OP’s gif 

bottom row, left in Dayna’s re-edited gif set overlaid on top-left in OP’s

2nd row, right in Dayna’s re-edited gif set overlaid on OP’s gif set top row, middle in Dayna’s re-edited gif set overlaid on OP’s gif set

There are a few gifs that were identified where Dayna did not even re-edit and/or crop so you can not tell the difference when just viewing the overlaid gif (not as a PSD).

4th row, right gif in Dayna’s repost vs. 2nd row gif in OP’s bottom row, left gif in Dayna’s re-edited gif set vs. top-left in OP’s

Evidence of Inadequate GIF Skills

Even though it’s nearly impossible for two gifs created by different gif-makers of the same scene to look the same, Dayna’s answer to an anon ask shows they don’t even know how to make gifs at the quality level of the gifs they stole.

They claim they use .mp4 files for their gifs, but some of the above stolen gifs were created using .ts files that can only be downloaded using magnet links (very different from just converting online videos to .mp4 files).

To make gifs from videos, Dayna uses ezgif.com, which makes it impossible to delete duplicate frames or manually delete undesired frames. All gif-makers on PS delete frames to some degree.

Given they add text and crop using ezgif.com and gifgifs.com, they do not know how to sharpen using Photoshop or Topaz, a relatively complicated PS plug-in, which does not explain how their gifs differ in sharpness.

For coloring gifs, Dayna seems to only use coloring PSDs they download, which makes it impossible that their coloring matches with gif-makers who do not use coloring PSDs or post their own.

Edit (11/04): Dayna posted a video of them making a gif (view here) which provides further evidence that (1) they know how to make a gif but choose to repost anyway and (2) do not have the adequate knowledge of gif-making and Photoshop to make the gifs they reposted for all the above reasons we listed.