#don't be too upset with me if you're prompt isn't on the list

[sanguineterrain]

This is not on the prompt list(s), but I’ve been inspired by the phrase “This is for your own good.” and could we have a debut Red Hood Jason saying this to Vigilante!Reader, who was also his pre-death lover, as he’s keeping her prisoner in one of his bases so that she won’t be caught in the crossfire?

OOH. interesting prompt. I haven't really written a darker jason 😏 thanks anon! hope you like.

jason todd x gn!reader. DARK THEMES. drugging, toxic relationship, codependency, chain restraints, knife threats (not from jason). what would happen if jason's best traits (protecting the people he loves, prioritizing safety) manifested in the worst way?

****

"This is for your own good, baby."

You pull at your chains, making them clink against the floor. You snarl as he steps back.

"This is crazy, Jason! Let me go!"

Jason looks at you in sympathy. It pains him to see you like this; Jason never wants to do anything that'll frighten or upset you. Your comfort and happiness always precede his. He'd put a gun into his mouth without hesitation if it would save you.

But he means it: this really is for your own good.

"I thought you were better than this," you say savagely. "I thought you of all people would understand how wrong this is."

"I know it's wrong," Jason says quietly. "I know I'm a bastard and fucked in the head. I know I don't deserve ya. But this is the only way. You won't stop going out there. You're too sweet for this city. It'll tear you apart, and I won't let that happen."

"That isn't your decision to make, Jason!" you say, squirming in your restraints.

You take a deep breath. The Bats only respond to logic when they're this deep in paranoia. You have to appeal to that.

"Jason, listen to me. I know you're scared of me getting hurt, but I know what I'm doing. I've done this for a long time, just like you—"

"And that's exactly where the danger lies. Things go wrong all the time, no matter how long you've been out there. I'm expendable. You're not."

Jason tugs once, twice, three times on your ankles and wrists. Satisfied, he moves on to the chain around your waist that's connected to the wall. It gives you a walking range of about five feet before you're yanked back. Jason had fussed about bedsores, and what keeping you in a bed would do to your range of motion. This was his compromise.

I'm not a monster, he'd insisted. I don't want to hurt you.

"Jason, please," you say. He starts to walk away and you chase him. The wall chain pulls and you land on your knees. Jason stops, looking down at you. You start to cry.

"Jason, please, please! Please don't leave me like this," you say, reaching with bound hands to grab his pant leg. "Please. This isn't right. I'm not a doll for your keeping!"

"I don't think of you as a doll," Jason says, kneeling in front of you. He holds your cheek and wipes a tear with a gloved thumb. "Oh, sweetheart, don't cry. Please don't cry. Hate to see it. I won't keep you like this forever. 'S just until I finish up in Gotham. Then we can go away from all this. Live normal lives."

"This is the life I want to live!" you shout, pawing at his clothes. "Let me go, Jason, let me go!"

"Baby. Hey, hey. You're gonna work yourself into a frenzy. Y'want something to calm you down? Make y'feel nice and sleepy."

Your blood turns to ice. No. No drugs. If Jason drugs you now, there's no telling when or if he'll stop. This is a man who was trained by Batman. You're sure he knows about every drug there's to know about.

You shake your head, your crying becoming quiet blubbering. "No. N-no drugs. Please."

He pets your forehead. "'Kay. No drugs, baby. 'S okay, see? I'll be back in a few hours and then we can eat and I'll draw you a bubble bath. Those are your favorite, remember?"

Jason kisses your salty cheek and stands, putting on his helmet. Like this, looming over you, in full Hood gear, Jason is terrifying. The reminder strikes you again, how capable and deadly your lover is.

Jason leans in and pets your cheek. "So pretty. Love you so much. Won't let anything happen to you, baby."

You watch, defeated, as Jason leaves, locking the door behind him. You listen for the sound of the lock clicking.

Then you get to work on finding an escape.

****

You keep your breathing silent as you wait. Your limbs ache from how long you've been crouched in hiding, but it doesn't matter. Nothing matters except escaping.

The door opens and shuts. Jason quietly removes his boots and helmet, surveying the apartment like always. He sets a plastic bag on the coffee table. The smell of Thai food fills the apartment.

"Baby? Hey, I'm home. Brought your favorite takeout."

You wait until he walks by your spot behind the TV. Then you strike.

You take Jason down to the floor with a move that only works due to your element of surprise. Then you hold a dagger to his neck, the cold metal pressed flat.

Jason regards you calmly, hands at his sides. You pant furiously, pressing the blade warningly.

"Let me go," you order. "I won't be chained up like that."

"I see," he says, and the way he says it is scarily reminiscent of Batman. You keep that to yourself.

"I mean it, Jason. You can't do that. I'll—I'll call someone on you. Bruce, Clark, Dick. Somebody."

"Alright." Jason holds up his hands slowly. You watch the movement, nerves raw. "Alright. 'S okay. Just breathe. You're upset, I get that."

"I don't—I don't wanna hurt you," you say, squeezing the dagger harder. Your hand cramps in protest. "But if you make me..."

Jason nods. "Yeah, baby. I know. 'S okay. We can fix it. 'M not mad."

"Don't talk to me like that," you snap. "I'm not stupid, Jay. Not stupid."

"I know, sweetheart. I know you're not stupid. I don't think you are. Y'wanna cut me? Feel like hurtin'?" He leans into the blade, breathing steady as a river. "Go on, honey. I heal quick. You need to do it, take it out on me."

The thought of hurting Jason makes you sick. For all of his misguided protection, he hasn't hurt you. Hasn't laid a hand on you or shouted at you. Every form of restraint is as gentle as possible.

"No," you say, voice wobbly. "I-I don't wanna hurt you. Please don't make me."

Jason strokes your arm with his thumb. "No, I won't. You'll never have to hurt anybody. And I'll never let you get hurt either. 'S okay. You're safe with me. 'S me, just Jay."

Jason's hand wraps around the wrist with the knife. You stiffen, and the blade slips. A thin line of blood beads on his neck. He loosens his grip.

"Okay," he says. "Alright. You're safe."

"I don't wanna be chained," you say, tears in your eyes. "I can't be chained. I'll go fucking crazy, Jason."

"I know. I'm sorry. We don't have to do chains."

Your heart hammers in your chest. But Jason is nothing but calm. Blood sluggishly drips down his neck. Your eyes widen.

"I'm sorry," you say, reaching for his neck. "I'm sorry, Jaybird, I didn't mean—"

"I know." He catches your hand. "Shh, shh. That's okay. 'S just a scratch. It was an accident, baby, that's all."

Tears fall down your cheeks. "I don't wanna hurt you."

"I know." Jason slips the knife out of your hand. He slides it away. You collapse into his embrace.

"I can do it," you say, sobbing. "I can go out there, Jay. Please just believe me. Please trust me. You trusted me before."

Jason cradles the back of your head. He slots you between his legs and rocks back and forth. You put your arms around him. His heart is an even thump against your ear.

Finally, you've gotten through to him. Jason isn't completely gone after all.

"Don't worry," he says. "Don't worry, 's okay. It'll all be fine. I know my mistake. I'll be better. It'll be better for us."

Something pricks your neck.

Hope sinks like a rock in your stomach. You squirm, but Jason holds fast, legs trapping yours. You whale on his shoulders with your fists. He holds your biceps, expression sorrowful.

"Baby—"

"No, you promised. You promised!" you scream. "You promised me!"

"It's just to soothe your nerves, honey. Please don't—"

You lunge for the knife, ready to do some serious damage. Jason tackles you before you can. He traps you on the floor, holding you down in a full lock. He holds your arms to your sides, and your legs are pinned to the floor. It's perhaps the gentlest restraint you've ever experienced. You scream and thrash, but it's no use.

"You monster! You're no better than any of them!"

"Sorry, 'm sorry," Jason says. No matter how much you fight, his grip won't budge. You've never been a match for Jason's strength or ability.

"I hate you! You don't love me!"

"I do, I do love you." Jason rests his forehead against your spine. "Christ, your life means more than mine. I won't lose you. You're the only one who matters."

His words are muffled. Your world is going fuzzy. The drug is kicking in.

"You promised," you say weakly, wiggling in one last attempt.

Jason tucks his face into your neck as you fall unconscious.

"I'll keep you safe," he says, lips on your neck. "No matter what."

[dr5amatic]

IN THE ASHES ,

a sentence starter prompts list comprised of quotes from the novel an ember in the ashes by sabaa tahir. please be advised that this list may involve topics including, but not limited to, murder, death, and violence. change verbiage as needed.

why do keep disappearing when i need you?

i wasn't spying.

what you saw is dangerous. you can't tell anyone about it. not ever.

keep your secrets close, love.

i'm not working for them.

don't be afraid [name], i won't let anything happen to you.

what are you doing down here?

much as i hate to admit it, you're not usually wrong.

the field of battle is my temple.

the dance of death is my prayer.

the killing blow is my release.

aren't you a pretty one.

who trained you?

keep it safe for me just until i come back.

unless you're stupider than you look, even you can see how this appears.

you worked hard. you did everything right.

go, [name]. go get some air. i'll handle this.

the ghosts of our misdeeds seek vengeance, but the cost will be high.

you are an ember in the ashes, [name]. you will spark and burn, ravage and destroy. you cannot change it. you cannot stop it.

we don't abandon our own!

who do you want me to spy on?

shadows will bloom in your heart and you will become everything you hate.

so my choices are either to stay and be evil or run and be evil. wonderful.

they always underestimate me.

this isn't a mission for the fainthearted.

go away. you're not real.

you're distracted when you can ill afford to be.

if you want to win this, you need to wake up.

i've already wasted too much time cleaning up your messes.

lay low. don't risk spying until you're certain you won't get caught.

fail me again, and we're done.

these are my friends, my family. people i know. i wouldn't hurt them.

how do i make it stop? i have to make it stop.

until you conquer your fear, the dead will remain with you.

i won't kill you. i swear it. by blood and bone, i swear it.

you're going to be fine. i'm going to fix you right up.

fight, [name]. you have to fight. you have to win.

death before tyranny.

if what you say is true, then the balance is upset, and we must restore it.

you look terrible. come into the shade.

you really should run. you’re just going to die.

wait, you idiot! it might be a trap!

i won’t let you fall, i promise.

i want you to know that i think what you’re doing is brave. really brave.

it’s not a stupid idea, just dangerous. i don’t want you getting hurt.

you’re trying to sneak out.

i wouldn’t have traded this for anything.

i live with my sins everyday. i live with the guilt.

i’ve never asked you for anything. i’m asking you now.

you think i can’t defend myself? you think i need bodyguards?

i’ve been distracted worrying about you.

i’ll kill him for this.

don’t talk. just keep quiet and… let me think.

you’re in love with me! but i'm not in love with you, and you hate me for it. you’ve let that ruin our friendship.

i could never be in love with you.

you have no idea what I’ve given up for you, the deal i made. 

who did this?

look at you–look what they’ve done to you.

you don’t have to be brave.

do you have what i want?

i have something, but i need more time.

if you have nothing, then this mission is a failure.

don’t have time for that. I’ve got other things on my mind.

if i wanted to hurt you, i’d already have done it.

as long as there is life, there is hope.

either way, you’d have blamed yourself.

either way, people you cared about would have suffered.

i should have stayed, even if it meant dying.

they won’t let you have compassion or kindness. they won’t let you have a soul.

my soul’s gone. I killed it dead on that battlefield.

there are two kinds of guilt. the kind that’s a burden and the kind that gives you purpose. 

you have a soul. it’s damaged, but it’s there. don’t let them take it from you.

you don’t need to be so cat-footed. i’m not armed.

you’re surprised? you’re naïve, is what you are. you’re a fool.

you’re sick. don’t you have any regret? any remorse?

i’ll celebrate them. i’ll mourn them. but i won’t regret what i did. i did it for the empire. i did it for my people.

don’t make vows when you can’t know their cost.

i crossed a line, and i won’t cross it again.

do you know what i do to spies?

be strong. if you don’t win this, everything is lost.

i will be your blood shrike, your second-in-command, the sword that executes at your will, until death. i swear it.

in the night, your loneliness crushes you, as if the sky itself has swooped down to smother you in its cold arms.

there is nothing of me that is worth anything.

tell me, or i slit your throat here and now.

you’ll pay for this. i swear it to the skies, to the stars. you’ll pay.

just because he’s a good leader doesn’t mean he’s a good person. he lied to you.

for the first time since i can remember, i don’t feel alone. because of you.

i can’t–i can’t stop thinking about you. i’ve tried not to. i tried to push you out.

i’ll take care of everything. i promise.

the moment i knew you existed, i hated you.

if i feel regret, it’s that i wasn’t willing to die sooner.

i’d rather die than live with no mercy, no honor, no soul.

fear is only your enemy if you allow it to be.

too much fear an you’re paralyzed. too little fear and you’re arrogant.

i’ll watch your back if you watch mine. we can make it if we stick together.

[fullofbees]

Anon requested Diavolo with prompt 76 from the smut prompt list.

CW: Sexually suggestive, nothing else!

»»----------► GN!Reader

"Young Master...? Young Master!" Barbatos's voice calls down the hallway.

The closet smells of chemicals and ancient dust, though it is too dark to read any labels. Diavolo has silenced you with a hand over your mouth, holding you in place as footsteps near your hiding spot. You try to will your wildly beating heart into silence when they stop in front of the door.

One moment... and then another... until you hear the butler sigh heavily and continue down the hall. You can feel Diavolo relax, letting out his own sigh of relief. You take hold of his hand, remove it from your mouth, and spin to face him.

"Forgive me, I may have been running from my work," he whispers, though his apology does little to hide his excitement at not getting caught.

You're silent with awe. Diavolo's golden eyes shine through the darkness, his irises glowing softly, reminding you of the wide-eyed nocturnal creatures back home. You try to step closer to get a better look, but your foot collides with a bottle and nearly trips you.

Diavolo quickly steadies you before bending down and moving the offending bottle out of the way. You hear him fidget with a few other items, setting them on the shelves beside you.

"Are you... able to see?" You ask, watching the disembodied eyes of the demon look up at you.

"Yes...?" He responds, eyes narrowing when his brow furrows in confusion as he stands up.

Without thinking, you reach out and make contact with his torso. You carefully pad your way up his chest until you can finally feel the warmth of his neck. His eyes are ever watchful, ever curious, never daring to part from your face. Even as your hands briefly trace his jawline, Diavolo waits with bated breath, eager for your next move.

Cradling his face, you make the future demon king hunch down to your level. You turn his head this way and that, inspecting his eyes from each angle, watching as the light waxes and wanes within them.

"Absolutely fascinating," you whisper, "None of the brothers' eyes glow like this. Is this typical of all natural-born demons?"

He nods, the action making you giggle when your hands move with him.

"Has this not been covered in RAD's anatomy class? I'll have to adjust the curriculum-"

You boldly cut him off, "It has. I had yet to see it firsthand. It's gorgeous."

"I'm happy to hear that you think so," Diavolo says, the burning of his reddening cheeks heating the skin of your palms, "Please, feel free to look as long as you like."

"Just look?" You ask with a teasing tone.

His wonderful laugh rumbles in his chest, and though he regretfully removes himself from your appreciative touch, it is rectified when his hands find your waist to hold your hips flush against his. "Barbatos can't be upset if I'm helping our dear exchange student with a private anatomy lesson."

Your laughter joins his, followed by a light gasp when his hands slide to the back of your thighs. He picks you up like it's nothing, pressing you against the wall with your legs wrapped tightly around his waist. Even through the layers of your uniforms, you can still feel the heavy outline of Diavolo's hard cock pulsing between your legs.

"Do I turn you on that much?"

You already knew the answer. He does a terrible job of pretending he isn't undressing you in his mind whenever you walk into a room. It's funny how quickly he comes undone with one compliment from you; but you promise to use your powers responsibly. Still, you want to hear him say it.

"You don't even fucking know," he groans, rolling his hips so you can feel every needy inch of him.

•••✦ ❤ ✦••• Submit A Request | Read on AO3 •••✦ ❤ ✦•••

A/N: Another flirty intro for another gentle giant lmao

[miasmaghoul]

From the prompt list

Dew/Aether #26

From this list.

#26 - as an apology

-----

"You're serious?"

Aether nods, but he can't look up. The disbelief in Dew's voice is something he expected, but it feels so much worse that he'd anticipated.

"Yes," he breathes, fiddling with a bracelet. "I told Papa this morning." Aether swallows, mouth dry. "I would have told you sooner, but -"

"Why?"

Aether sighs, scrubs at his face with both hands. The scent of antibacterial soap floods his nose, skin made dry from endless washing during his infirmary shift. He stares at the little ghoul's boots, black leather stark against the white tile floors. Maybe it was a mistake to do this here. Maybe he should have waited until tonight, until they were tangled up in bed and Dew was blissed out and half asleep. Maybe he'd sound less betrayed.

Somehow, Aether doubts it.

"I told you," he sighs, shoving his hands in his pockets, "I'm tired, Dew. Too tired to keep up with the rest of you." Aether rubs the back of his neck. "You remember the last leg, right? How many times did Papa talk to me about my mistakes? How many times did you have to pick up my slack?"

"Aeth -"

Aether holds up a hand, and Dewdrop pauses. Aether can feel his scowl, eyes burning into the top of his head. He still can't make himself look up.

"How many nights did you have to spend massaging my hands, just so I could play the next day?"Aether cracks his knuckles, wincing at their stiffness. "Besides, they need me here." He gestures vaguely at the empty infirmary lobby. "Now that Omega's gone, I'm the only full-time healer we've got."

He huffs out a harsh exhale, pinches the bridge of his nose. This was so much easier in his head. He watched the little ghoul cross his legs, scuffing the toe of his boot against the floor.

"I just...I can't do it anymore, Dew. I don't have the energy."

He falls silent after that, shoulders hunched and hands shoved into the pockets of his slacks, and waits. Waits for Dew to yell, to grab his coat and throttle him, to punch a wall - anything to express the rage he swears he can feel pouring from that slight body.

"I understand," Dew says instead, and somehow that's the thing that makes Aether look at him.

Dewdrop's expression reads cool, but his shoulders sit tense. The tip of his tail flicks through the air, obvious agitation, but it seems to be unconscious. There's something hard in his copper eyes, and Aether swallows hard.

"You...you what?"

"I get it," Dew says with a shrug, rolling his neck. "I was around when Zeph went through this, remember?"

That's...a fair point. Zephyr may have only joined them on stage for a few months, but Aether remembers very clearly all the evenings spent helping with their pain and exhaustion. He sighs, nods.

"Yeah, I do. But this isn't the same -"

"You could've told me, y'know," Dew interrupts, softer. "Before now, I mean. Before you told Papa."

"I almost did," Aether admits. Dew's casual demeanor has him off balance - he expected to have his coat singed by now. "But I was worried -"

"I wouldn't have told anyone," he interrupts, voice soft, and Aether stutters to a halt. Watches the little ghoul wring his hands. "Wouldn't have done that to you."

Aether blinks. Twice. That thought hadn't even occurred to him, not for a second. His hesitence came only from the risk of upsetting Dew, not from some fear of having his retirement revealed before he was ready. He cants his head and peers at Dewdrop, brow furrowed, and finds something new in his eyes. A watery glimmer of something so obviously sad, so fearful, that it makes Aether's heart ache.

"Oh, Dew..."

In half a breath they're caught up in each other, Aether holding the little ghoul to his chest in a crushing embrac, one hand on the back of his ash blond head and the other arm curled tight around him. Dew's hands fist into his shirt and he plants his feet between Aether's, huffing against his chest, and for a few moments they stay like that. Holding one another in silence while Aether collects his words and tries to figure out what he could possibly say to assure the one he loves more than any other that he'd never question his trust. To apologize for even making him think otherwise.

Then Dew pulls away just enough to look up at him with those gorgeous eyes, the gentlest smile curving his lips, and Aether has his answer.

The kiss is soft, gentle. No urgency, no tongue, just the perfect meeting of their mouths. Dew's warm hands come up to cup Aether's cheeks and Aether sighs through his nose, muscles he didn't know he'd tensed going lax. It feels like an age before they part, and Aether knows he doesn't have to say it, but -

"I'm sorry, firefly," he whispers, rubbing Dew's back and nosing at his temple. "I didn't mean -"

"I know," Dew assures him, stroking his face, eyes searching his own. "I...I know."

Dew kisses him again, and Aether decides any other words can wait until his hands stop shaking.

[notmorbid]

the verifiers.

dialogue prompts from the verifiers by jane pek.

you look like someone who makes lists for everything.

i'd like to hear your opinion before i tell you mine.

you're too nice for our family.

you act like you don't know me at all.

how strange that i used to worship ____.

we're not friends. we just pretend.

it's not a proper family gathering until everyone is upset.

killed anyone lately?

that's what i aim for: to be just a little less shitty than people expect me to be.

i feel sort of sleazy.

you're right. i haven't been fully honest with you.

i'm still figuring things out. what they might mean.

between deceiving and being deceived, i prefer the second option.

it always surprises me how surprising death is, when it's the one thing that's inevitable.

you don't know shit. don't try to pretend you do.

not all mistakes can be fixed.

neither admit nor deny. that's a very lawyerly approach.

take it, please. i'll feel better.

believing something for its convenience is at best negligence, and at worst culpability.

i don't trust anyone, except you.

how do you know what i like to read?

do you want me to help you take a picture?

it looks like your party's a success.

you're even sneakier than i thought.

i hate being told what to do.

guilt is the currency that our family traffics in.

i feel like i could ask you about anything, and you'd have something interesting to say.

walk it off. nothing hurt, right?

you've never known any of us.

well? aren't you going to say anything?

you never do anything for me.

don't tell me what i can and can't be like.

you don't deserve it. the way ____ loves you.

writers always talk about their characters like they're real.

let's pretend we're tourists.

i've been all fizzy with happiness, ever since we met.

you call it like it is.

i never meant to hurt you.

you can't always pick your weapons in your duels.

it's too late to change anything.

what if we take turns? we can answer each other's questions.

i know the truth is right there, but i can't see it.

here i am, crazy as ever.

all those little lies just make the truth feel worse.

i didn't mean anything by it. i just wanted it all to go away.

i love you, you little brat.

if you ever went away, there would be a hole in my world.

you millennials are unbelievable. all laziness and instant gratification.

i see you couldn't wait to get into more unnecessary danger.

is that a threat or a warning?

if i tell you, i'll have to get rid of you.

this is bigger than you know.

if you go any deeper, forget about getting out.

is there anywhere to eat in this wasteland of a neighborhood?

why do i feel like i've missed something?

did the english major make you such an annoying pedant, or were you always that way?

what's the point of knowing, if you don't do anything about it?

i always knew you were a romantic.

try to grow some balls.

you love me. i'm sure you do.

you become something, if you act that way for long enough.

is a digression into backstory really necessary?

can we get to the action?

you can be very persuasive.

we told each other everything.

you only ask to hang out when you want something from me.

i want someone like you. who isn't you.

are you having a quarter life crisis?

no matter what, you'll be okay. i'll make sure of it.

i'm having a bodysnatcher moment.

this would make a fantastic setting for a murder mystery.

people are constantly mistaking me for someone else.

i wish more people could think like you.

still trying to save the world?

i want the best for you. i always have.

damn, you're ruthless.

maybe i still don't know you at all.

you have to tell me the rest of it.

people tend to hear what they want to hear.

who do you think i want you to be?

[jae-bummer]

Perfect for You

Request: 7&9 with Shua 👀

Prompt:

7) "Doesn't matter what happens...if you call me, I will always answer."

9) "I don't want them. I want you."

Prompt list can be found HERE.

Pairing: Seventeen Joshua x Reader

Genre: Fluff

.

"Lovie," a gentle voice cooed, followed by an equally comforting set of arms wrapping around you. "Look at me."

"No," you croaked, burying your face deeper into the pillow.

"Please?" your partner, Joshua, beckoned. "Pretty please with sugar on top?"

"I don't wanna," you pouted, knowing you were being a touch ridiculous.

"Guess I'll have to eat all of that pizza I ordered by myself," he sighed, unwrapping from you and plopping on to the mattress at your side.

"Pizza?" you squeaked, swiveling so just your face could be seen above the blanket. "Did you get-"

"Nope," he hummed. "I didn't get any of your favorites because you refuse to talk to me."

"Joshuuuaaaa," you whined, now completely rolling over in his direction. "This is cruel and unusual punishment."

"But effective," he grinned. "Listen to all of those words!"

"You're the worst," you grumbled. Wiggling your way across the blanket, you stuffed your face into his bicep.

"Of course I am. Now are you going to tell me what has you upset?"

"Ugh," you groaned, leaning back and looking at him. He was already set to listen attentively to whatever problem you were about to present him. He was honestly too good for this world.

You knew your eyes and overall face were likely swollen from the number of tears you cried that afternoon. If that wasn't enough of a dead giveaway, the pint of ice cream on your bedside table was. "I upset myself."

"And how did that happen?" he nodded.

"I was on the internet."

"A very dangerous place," he prodded. "But I think you're leaving parts out."

"I got a notification about the photoshoot you did a few months ago," you said quietly.

Joshua took a quick breath before shutting his mouth again. You knew the silence meant that he already knew where this was going.

"I know we talked about it before it even happened," you sighed. "But I wasn't quite ready for the reality of it."

Or the centerfold spread of your half naked partner modeling some expensive fashion brand alongside a very beautiful half naked woman.

Okay, maybe half naked was pushing it, but you were feeling especially sensitive.

"I had a lot of big feelings!" you wailed, burying your face back into Joshua.

"Baby," he sighed, reaching over to set a hand on your hair. "Why didn't you call me earlier?"

"Because I'm stupid and silly!" you gasped in between sobs. "And you were busy, and my problem wasn't even really a problem."

"Doesn't matter what happens...if you call me, I will always answer," he whispered, kissing the top of your head lightly. "No matter how silly or stupid you think it is. Your feelings are always valid, okay?"

"Okay," you whimpered.

"Now, tell me what has you upset."

"Isn't it obvious?" you groaned, leaning away again. "All of these beautiful people you're around all the time! What if one day you realize you've been doing charity work this whole time with me?"

"Y/N," Joshua sighed, a smirk threatening to appear on the corners of his mouth. "I don't want them. I want you."

"You're just saying that!" you sniffed. "You don't know what's in the future!"

"And neither do you!" he said, finally letting out a light chuckle. "If I wanted to be with one of those people, I would have already. You realize that right?"

"But what if-"

"If you play the 'what if' game with yourself all the time, you're going to drive yourself crazy." He pulled you close and nuzzled into your hair. "I want you. No one else."

"Are you sure?" you muttered into his t-shirt. "This is your last chance for an out. It's now or never."

"Have you ever had that feeling where something is so cute and clueless that you want to squeeze the crap out of them?" Joshua asked thoughtfully.

"Cute aggression, yeah."

"That's how I feel about you right now."

"Thanks?"

You both stilled as the buzzer to your apartment sounded. Looking down at you and quirking a brow, Joshua smiled. "That's the pizza and I did in fact order all of your favorites when I heard you were having a crisis."

"Joshua Hong," you gasped. "You are perfection."

"No one's perfect," he sighed, slipping off of the bed. "But perfect for you? Yeah, that's me."

[yanderes-galore]

Hmm how about Junko enoshima from danganronpa with prompt 4. From your yandere prompt list

Sure! I hope I depict her well in this....

Yandere! Junko Enoshima Prompt 4

"My heart belongs to you, I'll adore anything you do to it."

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Sadism, Junko likes to hurt you both, Blood, Implications of darling dying, Extremely dark themes, Forced "relationship".

"Don't you want to hurt me?"

The question sounds genuine... yet taunting. You don't comment at first, too busy on the scene in front of you. A metallic smell overwhelms your nose... causing you to shake.

Corpses... all of the faces you once knew... from acquaintances to close friends... They lay in the classroom like butchered meat with stab wounds in their flesh.

"Please, you didn't expect them all to live, right?" Junko muses, "It's so much more fun if none of them live. You cared about them too much... made me quite upset, actually."

You remain silent, bile building in your throat as you look at the scene. You collapse on your knees as you look it over. Junko had dragged you to a classroom to show you a scene she no doubt created herself. Blood coated the walls... barely hiding the corpses of those you once knew alive.

Why...?

Because it hurt you... and that was cute to her.

"Ohhh, don't act like I don't see that look in your eye!" Junko coos, big blue eyes staring down at you as she seats herself in front of you. Blood, in its nauseating color, coats her clothes as she gives you a Cheshire grin.

"You want to hurt me~!" Junko chirps, "You want to hurt me back because I broke all your precious little relationships... let's be honest, honey... the only relationship that matters is ours!"

"We don't have a relationship!" You bark, causing Junko to howl in laughter.

"Ouch... that makes me so sad... seeing you deny me like that hurts... I love it...!" Junko purrs with a grin. "You look so cute when you're deep in the pits of despair... They must've meant a lot to you."

This was the game Junko always liked to play. Junko only ever loved despair. It's an emotion she lusts after, while others try to avoid it.

You have a speculation what Junko feels towards you... isn't love. No, she doesn't genuinely love you. She's obsessed with you... but not entirely you as a being...

She's obsessed with causing you anguish... because it makes her feel the same way.

She loves you in her own twisted way. She both loves yet hates it when you hate her back. When she successfully manages to make you act out against her... She feels despair.

Making you fall into despair drags her with you... like you're both chained together.

"It hurts, doesn't it? To be so deep in despair? To know you're all alone except for me...?" Junko pouts playfully, coming closer to kneel down in front of you. "Don't you hate me?"

She cups your face, nails digging into your skin as you violently try to pull away.

"There's no need to hide your hate, sweetheart. I see it in your eyes." Junko hums, slowly grinning as you glare at her.

"My heart belongs to you, I'll adore anything you do to it." Junko admits. "I want you to hurt me, to make me feel pain and despair... I want the person I love most to despise me... know why?"

You don't bother answering, watching with disgust as Junko lets you go to retrieve something from a corpse.

"It causes me great despair to be the cause of your pain..." Junko confesses, pulling a large knife from a corpse. The blade drips the tainted substance of blood, making you gag. "I love it. I love it as much as I love you... if not more...."

You freeze when Junko approaches with the knife, the blade wet with its past kills. Junko grins down at you, toying with the blade as she ponders what to do next. A shiver runs down your spine.

"Seeing you glare at me, hating me... To see that come from someone I care about to the point of infatuation... the amount of despair I gain is euphoric." Junko shudders with a deranged giggle.

"You could do anything to me..." Junko smiles, circling you like a hungry shark who just smelled blood in the water. "You could hurt me in any way... and I'd never stop loving you... I'll just keep coming back for more."

Junko then goes silent for a moment, pausing in front of you to look over the knife. She appears to be in deep thought before an idea comes in mind. You go to weakly pull yourself off the ground, only for Junko to lunge.

You fall to the blood soaked wood of the classroom. Junko is quick to straddle you as she presses the blade to your chest. She stares down at you with eager eyes... your fear is delectable.

"You know..." Junko trails, looking at your quivering form as you try to move. She stops such attempts by pressing the knife's edge to your throat. "The ultimate feeling of despair would come from us killing each other...."

Your heart picks up, staring at the girl in fear as she grins wickedly. She's serious....

"Don't you know how much it would hurt? How much it would pleasantly ache to have to kill the one I love? That, or have you hate me enough to bring me to the brink of death? You know how much DESPAIR that would cause us...?" Junko continues, practically salivating at the thought.

"It would be the ultimate conclusion to our love, sweetheart! The ultimate way to show that you're mine and we were always meant to be!" Junko sighs dreamily, toying with the blade again. "So... what do you say?"

Junko then grabs your hand, wrapping it around the handle of the blade as she still holds it.

Her gaze is hypnotic, evidence of her spiraling into despair at the thought of you hurting one another... and your fear only adds to the feeling.

"I want you to hurt me."

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

Alternative entertainment

AN: *Puts up hands defensively* I promise I don't just have Hyunjin in my drafts. This was just next on the list. Actually, it was a Chris fic, but it was getting too frustrating, so it was either delete it out of resentment or jump to the next one. Thus, we're here. My biases aside, I do think Hyunjin would really be into nipple piercings. This is also me pushing my tiddie enthusiast! Hyunjin agenda lol.

Synopsis: A movie night with the guy you've been seeing takes a turn you don't anticipate. Not that you're upset in the slightest.

General tags: Hwang Hyunjin x Fem! Reader, they're dating but, not in a relationship (yet), Reader has her nipples pierced and Hyunjin's really into it.

Smut tags: hair pulling (m. receiving), dirty talk, nipple play (f. receiving), a handjob (m. receiving), Hyunjin cums on Reader's stomach and cum eating.

Word count: 3001 (why the fuck is this this long 😭💀 this was supposed to be a fun little like 1k drabble)

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

Your heart hammers against your ribcage as you knock on Hyunjin's front door. It's fine. It's just a movie night. It's just the first time you've ever been to his apartment. It's not a big deal in the slightest and, you severely need to chill the fuck out.

All of these mantras suddenly are nowhere to be found when said door swings open and your date's shy smile greets you. He's just wearing a simple, white shirt and some grey sweats and, it's all enough to make you feel as though your tongue weighs a tonne.

"Hi," he greets you, one of his dimples poking out. Oh god, you need to calm down. You don't need to give Minho more fuel for his 'you have it bad' teasing. Though he might not be wrong.

"Hey," you respond, pulling him into a hug once his door shuts behind you and his arms around your waist boil your blood in a way a hug really shouldn't.

"I have some snacks and drinks laid out on my coffee table," he says, "I wasn't sure what you'd like but, I tried my best and there's a pretty wide spread," the way he rubs the back of his neck urges you want to kiss him. So, you do.

You lean up to kiss his soft cheek lightly, "Thank you, Hyunjin. It's all more than enough." The two of you have kissed enough that this isn't too out of left field but, from the way his ears burn pink, you'd think this was the first time your lips have ever touched him.

"You have nothing to thank me for," he mutters, but he holds your hand all the same and tugs you along to his couch. You try your best not to stare too hard at his broad shoulders and the veins that run along his arm, ending at the fingers that wrap around your own.

"I still wanted to anyways. It's sweet of you," while you are being sincere, a more private part of you enjoys how easily flustered your compliments make the beautiful man. You'd learned very early on into going out with Hyunjin that he was more shy than one would expect. Which really only endeared him to you more.

The slight flush on his face prompts you to bite back the grin that threatens to spread across your face. This is Hyunjin. You had no idea what you were so nervous about in the first place.

You're trying to focus on the movie that's playing on his screen. Really, you are. However, playing with Hyunjin's hair as you spoon him and drawing patterns on him with your other hand is infinitely more engaging. You still pipe up with comments here and there from what your mind is able to latch onto to, but you've been thoroughly distracted for a good hour now.

It's especially difficult to pay attention with his hand burning an imprint into your thigh where it's made itself quite at home. Which is pretty bold for him. You've been the one that's had to swallow down all of your shyness in every step of this....whatever this is. You held his hand first, you hugged him first, and you were the one to initiate your first kiss.

Would it be too far to nudge him to turn over and kiss you instead of focusing on the historical film unfolding on the screen?

"Hey, is everything okay? You seem a little distracted?" He shoots you a concerned look, and you can't help feeling the slightest bit guilty.

However, Minho's annoying voice chooses now to ring through your skull:

Just go for it. This guy is obviously as into you as you're into him. Stop overthinking everything. Plus, let's be real he didn't invite you over to just watch a movie.

"No, no, I'm okay," you hurry out and search for all the confidence you can find, "I think I'd just- I'd just rather do something else instead of watch this movie."

Hyunjin blinks at you, "Oh, don't you like this one? You should've told me. I don't mind watching another one if that's what you want."

You very strongly resist dragging your hand over your face in frustration.

"No, Hyunjin I-" you take the plunge and elect to let your actions speak for you instead of stumbling over your words for an embarrassing amount of time. You lay your hand atop his that rests on your thigh, intertwining your fingers before leaning towards him, leaving ample room for him to stop you or move away.

You catch surprise in his face for a moment, but, to everyone's shock (except his probably), he closes the gap. His kiss is slow and so tender that it causes your heart to ache in your chest. His hand grips your tighter when you kiss him back just as tenderly. Unintentionally clenching your other hand that you completely forgot was in his hair.

He whimpers into your mouth, and you've never understood the desire to devour someone whole until now. He looks like he wants to run and hide or apologise to you for some godforsaken reason. You don't let him. Choosing instead to lick into his mouth and, moaning into him when your tongues come into contact with one another. Tugging on his hair to inspire more of those gorgeous noises of his.

The two of you separate to catch your breaths momentarily. Lidded eyes meeting each other with the sounds of your laboured breathing and the television droning on in the background being the only ones your brain registers.

"I'd much rather do this than watch a movie, yeah," he jokes, his stupidly plump lips spreading into a small smile when you laugh in response to him. "Same," you retort, massaging his scalp and delighting in the way his eyes flutter and he hums in appreciation. You're not sure who resumes the kissing but, you don't think it matters all that much in the grand scheme of things.

Speaking of things that largely don't matter, you somehow find yourself rolled onto your back. Clutching at those same shoulders you were trying (and failing miserably) at not staring at earlier. You've lost track of time of how long you've been kissing him, a different film playing on his screen while his hand toys with the ends of your hair.

"Can I touch you?" He whispers so quietly into your skin that you nearly miss it, but your muddled brain manages to catch it nonetheless. He must read your stilling in surprise as a negative because he looks like he's about to spill out a slew of apologies, but you stop him before he can fully spiral, "Yes, please," you whimper, dragging one of his large hands to rest on your ribcage.

The flush on his face is so adorable, and that prompts you to pull him down for another bruising kiss. Your tongue snakes into his mouth as he hesitantly shifts his hand higher and squeezes your breast gently. The pressure, while minimal, is pleasant. Only serving to add to the slickness that's collected at the apex of your thighs. You cling to him even more and moan into his sinful mouth, arching into his touch. For all his reservations, Hyunjin is a phenomenal kisser, and you allow your mind to wonder whether he'd be this talented with his mouth between your thighs.

"What's that?" He mutters against your mouth, giving your breast another, much heavier squeeze and running his thumb over your nipple. The sensation sends electricity through your body, and your hips grind against the thigh that's been slotted between your own. His name leaving you in a choked whimper. His face pinches in confusion, still trying to understand what the bumps he felt were while his cock twitches in his boxers from the way you grind on him.

"What's what?" You belatedly respond once you are able to adequately find the words. "This," he reiterates, dragging his thumb over your sensitive nipple again. You try to hardest not focus on his question this time around, "Oh, that's my piercing."

"Piercing?"

"Yeah, my nipples are pierced."

That stops his hands on you.

The fog in your mind dissipates a little when you notice he's stopped, his expression unreadable. Oh. Is he not into that? God, this is going to be so fucking awkward. It was just going so well too-

"If it's not," he clears his throat, his voice having dropped significantly, "if it's okay, can I see?" He asks, and when he looks at you like that, how could you ever dream of saying no to him?

"Sure," you respond, gathering all of your resolve as you tug your shirt up until your breasts are exposed in the open air of his living room. Hyunjin just stares. He stares and stares and stares and keeps staring until it likely hits him that's maybe he's staring a little too long while you're left to stew in your thoughts.

"Fuck, I'm sorry they're just," he grapples with his words, "They're beautiful. You're beautiful."

Would it be soon to admit that you're a little bit in love with him?

Shoving that insane thought aside, you smile up at him shyly, butterflies turning into dragons in your stomach as you watch him flush darker, "Thank you, Jinnie."

"You're welcome," he mumbles, sneaking shy glances at your chest as though you didn't tug up your shirt for him to gain a proper look at them, "I didn't know you had them pierced."

"Oh, I thought you noticed since I haven't worn a bra for like half of our dates. Maybe they're not as noticeable as I thought."

"I uh I try not to stare at your," you probably shouldn't find his floundering as amusing as you do, "y'know."

You choose then to cup his handsome face in your hands, giggling internally at the way his pouty lips form into a little o as you squish his cheeks in your hold, "Such a gentleman," you mutter before pulling him towards you for another passionate kiss that is more tongue and spit than anything else. His hands ghost over your breasts, not quite touching them, but the lingering is enough to pull whimpers from you and cause you to squirm against his solid thigh.

"Touch me, Jinnie. Please touch me," you're past the point of pretending to feel embarrassed.

His hands are on you in an instant. A mumbled 'fuck' swallowed by your eager mouth as he massages them in his hold. Experimenting with various pressures and squeezes and dragging his thumb along your hardened nipples until you're panting against him and tugging on his dark hair. Your hips jolt up into him when he tugs on them lightly, your panties starting to stick to you in a way that is a little uncomfortable, but you're too preoccupied to genuinely care.

"Yes, like that, Jinnie," you moan when he pinches them a little harder. His erection is hot and heavy against your thigh even through your respective layers of clothing as he shallowly grinds against you in search of any kind of relief. Your kissing has turned into little better than mutual moaning as you touch and feel and squeeze and tug. Hands gradually learning what the other enjoys. Drawing gasps and whimpers from one another.

"You're so fucking hot," he groans throatily into your neck with a particularly hard squeeze to one of your breasts and a drawn out rut against your thigh, "So sexy. Can't believe I get to have you like this. Such soft and pretty tits," he practically moans as he fiddles with one of your piercings. Your back bows into him, your pitchy whines echoing throughout his living room, "And your piercings? Fuck. As if your tits couldn't get any better," he grits out.

You suppose you can add this to the laundry list of pros of getting your nipples pierced.

"Hyunjin-Jinnie, you're so-" your words end in a strangled gasp as when his mouth attaches itself to your throat. Lavishing it with scorching licks and open-mouthed kisses as his nimble fingers continue to pinch and tug your sensitive nubs. A shiver coursing through your body when his teeth ghost over your pulse point. "Is it okay if I touch you too?" You ask in a rush as your fingers ghost over the hem of his shirt, "Please, Jinnie I need-"

"Fuck. Yeah. Yes, you can," and like that, your hands make immediate contact with his firm, warm abdomen. His muscles jump beneath your touch with every curious brush of your fingertips. He let's out shuddering breaths into your skin as your fingers familiarise themselves with as much of him as you can. With only some trepidation, you palm him over his sweats, and the length you feel causes your walls to clench hard around nothing. A dull ache settling between your thighs.

He whines. Full-on whines against you as you slowly drag your hand over him, his ears tinging red, and his blush drifts below the neckline of his shirt. His hips shallowly grind into your hand, his grip on your breasts grower harsher. Your established rhythm is interrupted when he litters kisses along your collarbone. Your breath hitching when he reaches your breasts, gingerly kissing the tops of them as he continues to ground his hips into your hand.

"So pretty," you don't think he means to say that out loud, but the compliment heats your molten blood all the same.

Not one to slack, your hand shifts to the waistband of his sweats. Sensing no signs of reservation on his part, you bite the bullet and slip it into his boxers. He nearly bites down on you when your hand wraps around him. God, he's so scorching and slick. The very real weight of him in your palm worsening the once dull throbbing of your pussy. Your fingers can't quite wrap around him but, that doesn't stop you. You stroke him leisurely, his moans being muffled into your skin and his hold on you tightening.

He groans in frustration before using one of his hands to tug his boxers and sweats down his thighs. His cock finally being free from its confines. Seeing it is significantly worse than just feeling it in your hand. Of fucking course his dick would be just as pretty as he is. Of course.

He snaps you out of your daze with a whine and a snap of his lithe hips. His red head leaking with pre-cum as he fucks your fist. There are a few veins you catch that run along his length, and you wonder what kinds of sounds he'd make for you if you were to trace them with your tongue.

They'd probably sound as exhilarating as the ones he's heaving into your breasts now.

You're too preoccupied with dragging your hand along his cock to notice the contemplative pinch to his brows. Thus, you're taken by surprise when his warm, wet mouth envelopes one of your nipples while his other hand is content to knead and toy with your other breast again. Soft gasps from you this time accompany the slick sounds of your hand stroking him. He curiously tugs on your piercing with his bruised lips, and the way you squirm is more than enough for him to gather that you enjoyed that. The vibrations from his groans adding to the overwhelming sensations.

You just hope you haven't soaked through your shorts by now.

His hips pick up speed while he happily continues to lap and suck your breasts. The sounds of them snapping into your hand coupled with the generous pre-cum dribbling out of his reddened tip twists and twists the knife of arousal embedded in your core.

You expected it but, you still blink up at him when he muffles a drawn out whimper into your chest and his cock pulses in your hand. Streaks of white decorating your hand and your stomach as you continue to stroke, albeit much slower than the pace you'd established. Maybe you're being a little sadistic but, the little noises he let's out as you continue to touch him are just so hot. How could you not?

His body shudders harshly above you as he rides out the remainder of his orgasm. His hand juts down to yours to stop your movements, "Too much?" you ask, and he nods against your chest. His chest still rising and falling quickly, his laboured breaths hitting your freed nipple as he tries to come back down to Earth.

"'M sorry," he mumbles while you remove your sticky hand from his softening cock. "You apologise too much," you laugh lightly, kissing the side of his head and stroking his hair with your non-cum stained hand. "What are you even saying sorry for?"

"Cumming all over you," he gestures to the few streaks on your stomach and your sullied hand.

"Oh, that? It's no big deal, Jinnie," a mischievous smile spreads across your face, "I actually think I like being covered in your cum." He watches you utterly shell-shocked as you bring your hand to your lips. His breathing coming to a stop as he laser focuses on the way you lick off his cum. It's a little salty but not unpleasant. You think you could get behind swallowing his cum on a regular basis if he'd let you.

If hadn't cum literally moments ago, he's certain watching you lap up his seed would've done it. His eyes heavy with want, and his bruised lips parted as you continue to clean up. He kisses you deeply when you're finally satisfied. Not caring in the slightest, or perhaps revelling in, that you'd just swallowed his spend.

Yeah, you should probably let your roommates know that you'd be a little late tonight. You'd just just block Minho for like a day if he was too boastful with his, 'I told you so.'

Reblogs are greatly appreciated.

Do not repost, edit, copy, and/or translate my work. I do not give you my permission to do so, nor will you ever receive it.

[kitsune-oji]

Hi! Nice to find your blog! I just read your "There is no guarantee you will be different", and I loved it! I was wondering if I could request the same thing for Lucifer? And/Or Satan? Especially as these two have anger issues. And I think it could be interesting?

I especially loved to finally find a prompt/story where it's relatable for this type of trust issues. Thank you!

There's No Guarantee You will be Different

Mc who has been hurt a lot in the past (betrayed, lied to, used) even by those that promised otherwise and were nice at first and struggles to trust others because of it. Not understanding why someone would actually like/love them or not believing them, being scared of getting hurt again and again like in the past.

Of course! Sorry this took so long but I hope you like it :)

Characters: Lucifer, Satan

Other: Barbatos & Beel, Mammon

-> feel free to request this with other obey me characters too

Warnings/tags: hurt/comfort-y, implied intimate actions (Lucifer), implied violence against third parties (Satan)

"You keep saying you love me, you keep promising that you will never leave, that you'll never hurt me... How do you know that? There's no guarantee. In the past, I've trusted those who told me all that and in the end, they ended up breaking all their promises anyway. Please, don't promise me things you can't keep. Even if you think you can keep them now, you don't know how it will be in the future. Maybe you'll get sick of me too, just like everyone else. I love you too but... I'm just scared. I'm sorry."

Lucifer

"...no, I guess I don't know that. You're right but you're also wrong. I love you right now and that is the truth. I can't see myself not loving you in the future and you can't expect me to act the way others have before me. ...their actions say nothing about your worth, even if it may be hard to recognize that. I'll make sure you will understand your worth. You should be proud to be yourself."

Lucifer is upset over the fact that you would hold him to the same standards as those who have hurt you in the past but after the initial displeasure, he understands that that isn't what he should be focusing on

He's convinced that the main problem is the fact that your confidence and self image has been damaged from your prior experience and that helping you build yourself back up will make you less anxious about the relationship you two have

Honestly, he's not wrong

Lucifer pays attention to verbally recognize any achievements you make and praise you for them

Sometimes, he asks you to tell him good things about yourself and will reward you for every thing you can list with confidence. Your rewards depend on what you like, obviously ;)

It's incredibly sweet when someone like Lucifer makes an effort to voice and show you how much he thinks of you. Not just the affection he as for you, which is plenty, but also how he appreciates you as another person. The skills you have, how much you do for him and his brothers, the effort he sees you put into your self-betterment and anything else positive he sees

You're an amazing person and in his eyes, everyone who has hurt and left you in the past are downright dumb and not worth your time anyway

Satan

In the first moment, it pisses Satan off so badly to hear those words that he has to go outside and search out the street cars he regularly goes to just to clear his head

Once he isn't so angry anymore, he feels bad over the fact he just stormed out like that

"I'm sorry. I'm not angry at you, just at the fact that you feel this way. They had no right to hurt you like that and I can't understand how they couldn't see how wonderful you are. You weren't appreciated by those you loved in the past but I'll make sure not to make the same mistake. I know it's hard for you to trust me but please, give me a chance to show you I'm different."

Satan regrets his initial reaction and wants to make it up to you even more

Honestly, there's a part of him that wants to make the people who hurt you pay and if you let him, he will. You won't have to hear about it if you don't want to, everything is up to you

He tries to find romance stories where the main character has gone through similar pain as you did and find love in the progress of the book with the intent that it may show you that there is always hope

If you want, he can read them to you as well

Little notes of poems and anecdotes are scattered everywhere from your school books to your lunchboxes talking about Satan's love for you and what makes you so lovable in his eyes

He makes a list of all the romantic dates he has heard or read about and wants to try with you. You can rank them with him and then Satan will do his best to make everything come true one by one

Yet the most touching and convincing situation for you were the times when Satan was so lost in his rage that he couldn't see clearly and yet the mere sound of your voice calmed him so quickly that you almost go whiplash from the way he switched around

Even cats didn't always work to make Satan get out of his blinding wrath but every time you manage to do just that, it makes you feel that you truly mean as much to him as he claims and it reassures you that maybe, this time will be different after all

[betweenthings2]

23 from the gentle love prompts maybe?? (there’s an obvious Rambler™️ between the two of them so what if it was the less obvious choice 👀) (not to tell you how to write) (whatever you do is gonna be cute as hell) (thanks bye<3)

Thank you so much for the ask!! My apologies for taking so long to answer this. I have no good excuse, but you should absolutely feel free to tell me how/what to write. The prompt list is here if anyone else wants to see it =)

Gentle love prompt 23. letting them ramble when they need to let off steam.

George comes home in a whirlwind of activity and energy, an anomaly, but Matty can't really say that he minds. It's been a quiet day for him, most of it spent curled on the couch with Mayhem, watching films, while George has been out, actually working. Matty's missed him.

It's passed dinner time, so George greets Matty with a kiss and Mayhem with a scratch behind the ears before going upstairs for a shower, but it's not more than twenty minutes before he's back, joining Matty in the living room to see the end of the film that's playing. Mayhem wanders off to see if George put anything in his bowl, so they have the couch to themselves, and they're both quiet through the end of the film, but when Matty curls into George's side, restless energy practically seeps from his body, so as soon as the credits begin to roll, Matty moves so George can get up.

George doesn't move, but he sits up a little bit straighter and asks, "How was your day?" 

"Fine," Matty answers. "Didn't really do much, but it was kinda nice to not have to do much. How was the studio?"

George sighs like he's at the end of his rope, and says "'s a really cool project, but there's all this back and forth and no one can agree and it's like trying to herd cats. How do you get people to do what you want?"

Matty laughs. "People think I'm a little bit unstable and erratic and they don't want to upset me?" Then he shakes his head and says, "Actually, I just tell people how it's going to be. Like, when we want things to be a certain way, once we've decided, I just tell people it's going to be that way."

"I don't think either of those are good options," George responds, slumping against the backrest. "Thanks, though."

Matty laughs again, then his expression softens to something very fond and he asks, "Tell me about it?"

"'bout what? How everyone just wants to argue about things?"

"No, the project, you idiot," Matty responds, still watching George will a fond expression.

With Matty's urging, George is off, talking about the ins and outs of the project, the intricacies of the production, the points of contention.

Matty doesn't really catch everything George says. Some of it goes over his head--he's not involved in the project George has been recruited work on, and by his own accounting, he isn't anywhere nearly as skilled as George when it comes to producing--and some of it doesn't really register because he's too busy simply looking at George. He's too busy being in love with George.

George talks with his hands, gesturing to supplement his words, and Matty is half mesmerized watching simply the way he moves and listening to the sound of his voice. At some point, Mayhem returns, nosing at Matty's hand, then George's when Matty doesn't have anything and George goes from gesturing to scratching Mayhem absently. It makes Matty feel ridiculously soft and in love, and he lets himself be lulled by the sound of George's voice.

"What d'ya think?" George asks, possibly for the second time, looking expectantly at Matty. Mayhem is looking too, almost like he and George are both waiting for an answer.

Matty blinks. "What?"

George laughs. "I love you."

"What?" Matty repeats.

"You didn't hear a single thing I said, did you?" George asks, half smiling.

"I heard some," Matty protests. "I was listening, but I got distracted listening to you talk. And then Mayhem came back and you looked really cute with him."

"You're impossible."

"You do the same thing to me," Matty insists.

"Maybe," George relents, pulling Matty back into his arms.

Matty lets it happen, perfectly happy to be back in George's arms, and when he's comfortable, he says, "You do feel better now, though, don't you?"

George presses a kiss to Matty's temple and murmurs, "Don't let it go to your head."

Matty laughs and burrows a little bit closer, and after a few moments, he says, "Glad you feel better."

[otakusheep15]

Obey Me Flufftober Day 27

Prompt: Fireworks

Pairing: Solomon x reader (gender neutral)

Word count: 675

A/n: Only five days left until the end of the month! I honestly don't know how I've managed to do this three years in a row, but it's still a lot of fun. Since October is almost done, feel free to send me some fic suggestions! The list of fandoms I can write for is on my pinned post, so go check it out! And now, time for old man Solomon.

You were not the best at handling overstimulating situations. It's been something you'd dealt with since childhood, and no amount of exposure therapy had helped you.

Fireworks were the worst for you.

They were bright, loud, and usually involved large crowds. Fireworks were a total nightmare for you. This did upset you a bit, as you always felt like you were missing out whenever you ran and hid from them. You'd also experienced a good amount of bullying over your fears, but you learned to drown them out after a while.

Tonight, there was a party. You were told in advance that there would be fireworks, and you thought this could finally be your chance to face your fear. You'd have all of your friends there with you for support, not to mention your partner Solomon. That gave you some confidence, so you were sure you could make it through the event.

You did not make it very far through the event. Well, you were doing fine for a while, but then the fireworks started. You were so sure that this would be the night you would face your fear, but you just couldn't do it. They were too much for you to handle, and you needed to get away. Solomon, your wonderful partner, noticed how poorly you were faring and helps you to a private room free of any windows so you can't see or hear any of the fireworks.

He was always so patient with you. You were sure that Solomon wanted to be out there enjoying the festivities, but instead he chose to stay by you. He never once made fun of you or tried to force you back outside. He simply sat with you and helped you calm down.

When you'd finally calmed down a bit, he asks if there's anything you can do to help. All you want is to get over this irrational fear of yours and you doubt he can help you with something like that. However, Solomon always seems to have the solution to every problem, and he tells you that he does have a way he can help, but only if you want him to. You tell him that you'd welcome any ideas he may have, and that's all he needs.

Solomon lifts his hand, and gives you one last chance to change your mind. When you hold firm, he continues on, and a small firework appears from his hand. It's nothing like normal fireworks, and there isn't any noise to go with it, but it's beautiful nonetheless. You stare in awe at the firework, and Solomon slimes and your wonder. He sets off a couple more, careful to keep them small.

It's a sweet gesture, even if you know something like this takes barely any effort on his part. Once you've gotten used to the visual of the fireworks, he adds in a little sound effect as well. It's quiet, but you still hear it. The first one makes you jump a bit, but you assure Solomon that it's okay, and he continues on.

Eventually, you tell Solomon that you'd like to try and go out again. He questions you, making sure it's absolutely what you want, and you reassure him that it is. He leads you back to the main room, and the fireworks are still in full swing. Going from dark and quiet to bright and loud is overwhelming at first, but with Solomon next to you, you were able to calm yourself. Once you were calm, you find a bit of courage and look up at the fireworks.

They are absolutely stunning. You can't help but be entranced by the beauty of the fireworks, and not even the noise can distract you from the visual. While you're looking at the fireworks, Solomon is looking at you. He's so proud of you. It's a small step for some, but a big one for you. Solomon would do absolutely anything to help you, even if it's something as simple as creating a few fireworks.

[mosylufanfic]

RCWhumptober Day 29

I decided to use an alternate prompt for today, "aftermath of failure." This isn't as whumpy as some of my others, but they're both suffering.

Visiting Hours

For the fourth time in as many hours, Jyn was fighting with a reception droid. "I need to see him. I need to."

"The patient is a level four," the droid said stolidly. "Level four is not permitted non family visitors."

By this time, Jyn was very familiar with the leveling system of the Alliance medical ward. Level one meant you were in for a squirt of bacta gel, maybe an antiviral shot, and back to your quarters. 

As far as she could tell, level five meant death's door. 

A doctor came through one of the doors. They were Mirialan, their facial tattoos faded, the way they got without upkeep. The doctor themself looked as faded as their tattoos, deep purple shadows under their eyes. "What's this racket?" they said. 

"This civilian is insisting on seeing a level four patient. I have stated repeatedly that it is not possible."

"It's possible, you're just being a prick," Jyn fired back. 

"You're Jyn Erso," the doctor said.

She set her jaw. She couldn't read the tone of their voice. Was it contempt? Anger? "I need to see him," she repeated.

"Level fours are permitted fifteen minutes with a family member," the doctor said to the droid. 

"This is not a family member," it said. "The patient has no family listed."

The doctor looked at her searchingly. "Given that, I think we can fudge it." 

The droid made a very annoyed sound, but twisted its body back to face the door, pissily ignoring Jyn.

She tried not to think of another pissy droid. You are continually unexpected. 

The doctor jerked their head at Jyn. "In through here. Decon chamber first."

“When does my fifteen minutes start?” she asked, following them.

"I'll let you know." They hit the button to seal off the decon chamber and Jyn screwed up her face. It was a sonic process, stronger than the sonic showers that she'd used all her life but no different in theory. Still, the enclosed chamber made her teeth itch.

They let her out on the other end and escorted her down a sterile white ward, beds cloaked in plastic on either side. Some of them were from Scarif, she knew.

Not enough of them.

She swallowed hard.

The doctor stopped her in front of the last bed in the row. "Listen," they said quietly. "The only reason, and I mean the only one, that I made this exception is because he's been asking for you."

"He's conscious, then."

"Yes. He won't look so bad. But don't let that fool you. His injuries are primarily internal, and they are severe."

"I know. I was there."

"He has a long way to go before we can downgrade him even to level three. So I wouldn't tell him anything too . . . upsetting."

She gave them a flat look. "What am I supposed to talk about, doctor? The weather?"

They pressed their lips together and unsealed the plastic. "Fifteen minutes starting now," they said. "There's a button on his bedside table. If you need anything, hit it. Someone will respond."

Do you think anyone's out there?

I do. Someone's listening.

At the rustle of plastic, Cassian's eyes turned toward her. He couldn't move any more than that. He was braced six ways to Centaxday, immobile so his shattered bones and his lacerated insides could knit up. Deep shadows like bruises ringed his eyes, and his skin was pallid under the bruises and the stubble. "Jyn," he said hoarsely.

She mustered up a smile, or an approximation of one. "Hi," she said. "Don't you look like shit."

He smiled back. "The plans," he said haltingly. "Nobody - will tell me - "

"Let's not talk about that right now," she said. 

His eyes fastened on her face, and after a moment, he made a noise of assent. "Who - did we - lose?" he asked then.

"Um. A lot," she said. "Seven made it back."

That was it. Seven out of thirty. Twenty-three dead on the blood-soaked sand, their bodies turned to ash by the Death Star's vicious eye.

"I don't know most of their names," she said. "I didn't really have the time." And she hadn't thought she would make it back, so it hadn't seemed important. On this side of things, it felt massively important to know who'd given their life for her last-ditch rogue mission.

"S'okay," he muttered. "I'll hear."

"That one guy, you know the one? From Wobani? I hit him with a shovel."

"Melshi," he said.

"Yeah, that's it. He's somewhere around here." She gave a general sort of wave, indicating the medical wing. "Level two, I think. He got us off the beach. Stole a shuttle, got us back here."

Cassian's eyes widened. "Bodhi?"

She felt her mouth tremble. "Got hit with a grenade or something. It took out our shuttle, that's why Melshi had to steal one. Someone pulled him out. He got back alive, but he's - it's bad. Level five bad. He's been in bacta since we landed. It's all - it's all very touch and go."

He absorbed that. "Baze," he said. "Chirrut?"

"On the surface," she said, and didn't have to say anything more.

It felt wrong that they'd left them there. Jyn didn't know what kind of burial rituals Guardians had, or Jedhans for that matter. She felt sure it hadn't included being vaporized by the blast of a planet killer. 

"They wouldn't - have wanted - to be without - each other," Cassian said. 

She nodded. "And. Well. You know what happened to Kay."

"Backup," he murmured. "Kay always - backup."

It wouldn't do much good without a chassis, and knowing that pissy droid he'd broken his backup into pieces and hidden it through seventeen databases just to make trouble for them. But it made her smile a little. "Well, that's something."

They sat in silence for a time. Jyn could almost hear her fifteen minutes ticking away.

"You," he said. "How - are you?"

She gestured at herself. "In one piece. Got banged up, but nothing some bacta gel couldn't handle." She rubbed at the edge of the bed. "They're not sure what to do with me. Not like I can get court martialed or something. Surprised they didn't shove me in the prison cells again, honestly."

Especially after -

Well. 

"Glad you - stayed," he said. 

Mon Mothma had offered her the shuttle - "that was the agreement," she'd said in her calm voice - and Jyn had rejected it with a firmness that hadn't seemed to surprise the other woman at all. 

"Where would I go?" she said rhetorically.

His hand lay on the covers near his hip. He turned it palm up in a motion that looked like it hurt his whole body.

She put hers over it - "don't" - and saw the little smile. She rolled her eyes and left her hand where it was. 

"Jyn," he said. "The plans."

"I don't - it's not - " 

"Please," he said. "Please."

She looked over her shoulder, through the cloudy plastic. No doctor to wag their finger at her.

And maybe it was selfish of her, but she desperately wanted to talk to someone. To share this pain that rode in her chest like a stone. 

She shut her eyes and took a few shaky breaths. When she opened them again, he was watching her, eyes urgent.

"One of our ships did receive the transmission," she said. "I don't remember what it was called but there was someone important aboard. A princess or something."

"Leia," he said. 

"Yeah, that was her. They sent a message they were on their way. But they got waylaid. A Star Destroyer. Over some dustball on the edge of nowhere. I'd never even heard of the system." She frowned. "-tooine, something."

"Dantooine?" he said, brows pulling together in concern.

"No, not that one. Tatooine. That's it. Like I said, never heard of it."

"What - happened?"

She was stalling. She knew it. 

"They took the ship," she said. 

He sucked in his breath. "Did anyone - "

"Everyone aboard was either dead or captured. The ship itself was destroyed."

"The plans," Cassian said. 

"Nobody knows," she said. "Maybe they were aboard the ship, maybe the Empire took them back - we don't know."

If only she'd kept them. If only she'd grabbed the data cartridge out of the transmission station. But she'd thought it was all right, with all those ships in orbit backing them up, and Cassian had looked as if he was about to collapse. Her first thought had been him. 

"They're gone," he said.

She nodded dumbly. "And there's more."

"How?"

"We got news today. Alderaan." She could barely say. "The Death Star attacked Alderaan."

"Like Jedha?"

"Worse," she said. "Much worse. The whole planet."

"The whole - "

"Yes," she choked out, and saw the horror dawn in his eyes as he took that in.

It was stardust, shattered to nothingness. A whole planet. Not one like Jedha or Scarif, either, that could be covered up or written off as a mining accident. They'd flicked their fingers and destroyed Alderaan, a Core world with a population in the billions. With that one stroke, the Empire had established that it could do whatever it wanted and nobody could stand against it. 

And the plans . . . the plans they'd worked so hard to find, sacrificed so many. Saw, her father. Bodhi and Baze and Chirrut and Kay, and everyone else who'd died on Scarif or come back in pieces. They'd fought so hard, they'd lost so much, and - 

"It was for nothing." She felt a tear, hot as lava, slide out of her eye and carve a burning path down her cheek. "It was all for nothing."

FINIS

[coraniaid]

I have not been seeing these Buffy episode polls, but potential factor: for people who don't spend time regularly thinking about individual episodes, it's more about memorability than quality. In particular, for me I tend to remember what happened in one-off episodes much more than in episodes more heavily tied to the season plot, which all combine in my head.

For example, you mentioned Passion vs. The Wish: I could not tell you what happens in Passion, except maybe that it's in season 2? But I remember the plot of The Wish pretty well.

I just looked up episodes from season 2, and having read a summary of Passion I can remember it was great, and had some of my favorite scenes in the entire series. But without the prompt, it blurs together with Surprise/Innocence/Becoming as one collective "Season 2 Angelus plotline", so I don't remember the specific episode itself.

Oh, yes, I think you're absolutely right that that is a factor in the voting patterns I'm complaining about. Quite possibly the main single factor, even.

Most lists of best Buffy episodes I've seen tend to favor episodes with a very clear memorable hook. For instance, the three highest rated episodes on IMDB at the moment are Once More With Feeling, Hush and The Body, all of which are -- in their own way -- very different from a typical episode of Buffy. And the current polling isn't really too far off that norm: I suspect one of these three episodes will probably ultimately win the current contest.

There are, I think, some noticeable anamolies beyond that -- School Hard beating Restless is the big one, but I was almost as surprised by Something Blue beating Who Am I? in the same round, and by Beneath You beating Consequences before that. To me these are all clearly the 'wrong' result, and in a way I don't think I've seen before. I don't think the memorability factor explains any of those upsets (I mean, maybe Consequences fades into the general late-S3 arc, but surely no more than Beneath You fades into the wider S7 arc? And, you know, Consequenes is actually good.,,). Not to put too fine a point on it, but I think that the simplest explanation for what's going on here is that three of these six episodes feature Spike heavily and three of them don't, and Spike as a character is very popular on (most of) Tumblr.

The third factor, I think, is that i'm just experiencing a minor bit of culture shock, and being unpleasantly reminded that real Tumblr is not the same thing as the slightly unusual bubble in which I've chosen to seclude myself. Because I know that most of my Buffy mutuals would not be voting this way, and sometimes I forget that other Buffy fans exist. (Indeed, looking at the tags in the reblogs, I think most of the people actually reblogging the polls are surprised by the results too, but to be fair that might be because I've already blocked a lot of the people who are voting the wrong way.)

[possibilistfanfiction]

Aw snap dude sorry to hear you had a bad day. What about a prompt for chocolate? (Also hope you get to eat something comforting and nourishing! Idk food is the answer to everything to me lol)

[chocolate is great, ur right! idk what i'll have for dinner but smth along the lines of comforting & nourishing for sure :)]

//

'i don't think that's what it's supposed to... be like,' you say, watching ava very terrifyingly try to cut through brownies. or, what were supposed to be brownies, but are so hard the knife isn't even doing anything.

'if i could just —' she grunts — 'use the halo —'

'— ava.'

'ugh,' she groans. 'i really wanted to make these for bea. how did i fuck up brownies so badly? the recipe said they were easy! and we have this giant kitchen, and bea's been grumpy today.'

you're just visiting for a few days, partially because nothing is really happening at cat's cradle at the moment, but mostly because you'd missed their friends. lilith had plopped you right into the water, instead of into their house or yard, but you'd gotten a good shot in — a slew of bullets through one of her wings; regular ones, so harmless, she'll heal in minutes — and she had careened right into the water too, spluttering. you're even, you think.

'well, did you forget an ingredient or something? they don't look burnt.'

ava goes through the list on her phone, muttering quietly, and then reluctantly starts to laugh. 'i forgot the flour.'

'the... flour?'

'yeah,' she says, looking at the various ingredients still strewn about the counter, and then goes into the pantry. you join in on her laughter when she emerges with, indeed, a bag of flour.

'ava.'

'i know! i know. look, i'm doing my best.'

she's not upset, but you still squeeze her hand. 'i know.'

'and, alas, i'm just so brilliant and cool and, conversely, hot, and my boobs are from heaven itself, so, you know, gotta balance things out somehow. otherwise it'd be unfair for everyone else.'

'sure.'

'wanna help me make another batch? we can try to throw stuff at this... brick —' she laughs again, rapping her knuckles on the rock hard tray of brownies — 'while they bake.'

you had planned to go to the beach, but this sounds fun too. with ava, most things are more fun than they ever have been before. 'sure. but i'm in charge.'

it's too late, you realize, when ava cocks a hip and then grins — inevitable: 'that's hot,' she tells you, and your eye roll doesn't seem to discourage her at all.

[hermanunworthy]

23 with swiftli :]

I Act Like Dead Weight 'Cause I Love You

23. carrying the other one in their arms

from the touch prompts list!

another request for 23 whoa!! not a problem though, i was very happy to write some swiftli (sorry this took longer than i thought anon, i started kinda losing motivation halfway through bc i wasnt liking how it was turning out)

also on ao3!

Taylor Swift is not one to show any sign of weakness. He doesn't complain in the face of hardship, or experience fear in the face of danger. He’s all witty quips, flashy smirks, and cool poses. Nothing fazes him, because he’s the unstoppable hero of this story.

…Lincoln Li-Wilson knows that that’s all just bullshit, though.

He knows that the sweat breaking out on Taylor’s face right now, sticking his hair to his forehead, isn't just for dramatic effect. He isn't Goku in the middle of an intense battle, he’s just walking home from school beside him on the quiet sidewalk. Something’s wrong, but like every other time something is wrong with him, he just won't admit it.

“Tay, you good?” Lincoln knows it’s a futile question, but he can't just not say anything. He’s not just going to silently listen to Taylor’s strained, panting breaths the whole way home.

“Oh, yeah, I'm awesome!” the shorter teen replies in an instant, giving a big grin before jerking his head away sharply to hide a wince. His free hand shoots up to cup his jaw, while the other holds a death grip on his cane, leaning on it heavily with each step.

Lincoln’s brow furrows. He hates seeing his best friend suffering like this. “Tay, it’s okay, it’s just me. We're not at school now, you don't have to act tough.”

“No, Link, don't worry about me,” Taylor tries to reassure him, but his voice is shaky. “There’s nothing to worry about! How was that soccer game yesterday, by the way?”

He’s trying to change the subject, but Lincoln can't let this rest just yet, not until he can get his friend to rest. “I do worry about you, though. I don't like seeing you hurting. It's okay to ask for help, you know?”

Taylor shakes his head a bit too aggressively. “Link, stop. I don't… like making you worry.” His voice is getting whinier, a tell-tale sign for Lincoln that he is becoming deeply upset.

Okay, maybe I should stop pushing him, if it’s only agitating him more. Lincoln knows that Taylor doesn't like to talk about his personal problems, and he knows he should respect that. “Alright. I'm sorry. I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable. I just care about you, y’know? You're my best friend, of course I worry.”

But then he realizes that the shorter teen is no longer at his side. He whips around and finds him standing about a yard away, hunched over and winded. He looks like he’s barely able to stay standing.

“...Help,” he wheezes out in the tiniest voice.

In a whirlwind of protective energy, Lincoln is coming to his aid, whisking him off his feet and into his arms. He hangs the cane gently on Taylor’s wrist, and then guides his arms up to reach around the taller teen’s shoulders. He makes sure to have him hoisted up high enough to allow him to lean against his body without as much strain.

Despite his claims to be okay, Taylor already has his face smothered in the crook of Lincoln’s neck, whimpering pathetically. He holds him closely, his body pressed against his as much as possible.

Lincoln is happy to support him as much as he needs. “Comfy enough?” he asks with a gentle pat on the back.

Taylor answers with another whine, and then the slightest of nods, and then the words “Better. Tired. Hurts,” mumbled against his skin.

“I know, buddy,” the soccer player murmurs soothingly as he starts to walk forward again, careful not to disturb his friend. “I know. I got you.”

They originally planned to split off at the corner dividing the paths to their respective houses, but Lincoln isn't just going to make his friend walk the rest of the way. He has no problem delivering him directly to the Swift house.

He’s a bit heavy to carry, and the sweaty warmth of his body flush against his is making the trek a bit of a challenge, but there's nothing Lincoln wouldn't do to help his buddy out. Besides, just being able to feel Taylor’s chest moving with slightly steadier breaths now is enough motivation to keep him going.

Along the way, Lincoln hums the tune to some anime opening he’s heard Taylor play for him before. He can't remember what show it’s from, and he’s not great at replicating notes, but he knows that his friend must recognize it enough, because he can feel his lips slowly curling into a content smile against his neck. Or maybe he’s just amused by his failed attempt at humming a song he doesn't know. Or maybe he just appreciates the vibration of the taller teen’s chest as he hums. He knows Taylor finds the purring of cats to be soothing, so maybe it can help simulate that effect.

Taylor nuzzles his friend’s collarbone, fiddling with the back of the collar of his jersey. Much like a cat himself, Lincoln notes, feeling a bit tingly.

When they reach the Swift house, Taylor’s mom rushes to the door the moment she sees her son in Lincoln's arms in the Ring camera. “Oh goodness, oh, Taybie, baby…” She rubs Taylor’s back with her hand, and tries to peel him off of Lincoln. However, her son just groans, clinging to his best friend even tighter.

Cassandra looks up at Lincoln. “Is he alright? Normally he comes right into my arms as soon as he gets home.”

Instead of answering her question, Lincoln asks, “How about we set him on the couch or something?” He needs to make sure Taylor is comfortable before anything else.

They enter the house, but it becomes evident that even now, Taylor still doesn't want to let go of Lincoln. So to compromise, the soccer player sits down on the couch and allows the shorter teen to settle into his lap, positioning him so that he can lay down properly without further hurting himself.

Taylor makes a few strained noises, but Lincoln just strokes his fingers through his sweaty hair, practically petting him. “It’s okay, buddy. You're home.” He gazes down at his friend’s cringing expression, hoping the muscles in his face will loosen.

Cassandra stands across from them, a little amazed by this kid’s insistence on comforting her son. “...You really care about him, huh?”

Lincoln feels a warmth in his chest, and he finds it hard to meet her eye. “Yeah… Yeah, I do.”

She sighs. “I'm really glad he has a friend like you. I was worried about how he’d be at school today. His chronic pain has been getting worse lately, and it certainly doesn't help that he also had to get his braces tightened yesterday. My poor boy.” She watches Lincoln’s hand as it moves through Taylor’s hair, the way her son leans his head into his friend’s touch. “Y’know, I really appreciate your help, but are your parents expecting you to be home?”

Oh, yeah. Lincoln has been so caught up in helping Taylor that he’s completely forgotten about his dads wanting him to be home on time. He goes to reach for his phone in his pocket, but as soon as his hand draws away, Taylor peeks his eyes open and grabs his wrist. “Don't… go,” he whimpers, guiding the taller teen’s hand to hold his jaw.

With Taylor holding his hand against his face, Lincoln feels his own heating up. “It’s alright, Tay, I'm not leaving you,” he whispers. He looks back up at Cassandra, and asks in an even quieter voice, “Sorry, could you call my dad Marco for me?”

Taylor’s mom blinks down at her son in concern, and nods. “Of course, hon.”

While she leaves to go make her call in another room, Lincoln returns his full attention to Taylor, who is beginning to snuggle even closer to him, melting in his touch. “Mm… Comfy…"

Lincoln huffs a soft laugh. “You were waiting all day for this, huh?” He remembers the way he wore a brave face during school, even through the pain. So much more pain than he himself could probably ever tolerate, let alone on a daily basis. “You were so strong today... I'm proud of you, but you don't have to always be strong, y’know?”

Taylor makes a lighthearted, drawn-out groaning noise, which rumbles against Lincoln’s hand. “Yeah, I guess…” His voice is still slurred, but now it's hard to tell if it’s from his pain or his comfort. “You’re the strong one.” He plays with the fabric of the soccer player’s jersey. “Tall, strong man. Big hero guy.”

The compliments, coupled with his best friend’s touchiness, is making Lincoln feel light-headed even though he’s just sitting. “You're like a little cat,” he teases, almost wanting to pinch his cheek, but not wanting to hurt him.

Taylor giggles lightly. “I thought you didn't like cats.” He continues to nuzzle his best friend’s hand and knead his shirt.

“Well, I like you,” Lincoln says, as easily as breathing, even though the words make his heart race after they sink in. Like carrying his friend, it’s heavy, but easy.

And Taylor simply settles against his thumping chest, as though confirming for himself the true meaning behind his words. “Cool. I like you too.”

And the two just stay like this for a bit, Lincoln’s heavy heartbeat and Taylor’s strained breathing relaxing together. It's easy. It's comfortable.

By the time Cassandra gets back, she finds that her son has fallen asleep in his best friend’s lap. “Oh–” She lowers her voice. “Lincoln, your dad said you're free to stay as long as you like.”

“Mhm,” Lincoln responds. Good. He doesn't want to leave his boy for a second.

“Do you think– I’d do it myself, but clearly…” She gestures toward the boys’ position. “Do you think you could just carry him up to his bedroom?”

Lincoln’s eyelids feel heavy, but he is more than willing to help out. He slowly, carefully, shuffles to his feet, with Taylor still in his arms.

Cassandra gives him one last thanks, ruffles her son’s hair as gently as she can, and watches as the soccer player sleepily but determinedly climbs up the stairs.

Lincoln glances down at the boy in his arms, studies the peaceful expression on his face, the complete absence of pain or suffering. He feels proud of himself for helping him get there. Even Taylor Swift, the coolest and strongest of protagonists, needs protecting sometimes.

Even a hero needs a hero of their own. And he’s glad to be his.

[the-npc]

I fucking hate Palworld so much. Even more I hate the CEO of the company who made the damn game that peddles bitcoin and is fine with using AI images in their shit. He literally made a bitcoin wallet and a game where you literally just create AI images to guess which images have a different prompt as if you couldn't, I don't know, pay some fucking humans to make the art. Hell, it would be a better investment because you can regularly update the game with dlc patches that add more images to the library and support the people being plagiarized by image generators using LAION and other copyrighted art lists. But no we have to remove humans from art because it saves money and time that we can use to make more asset flipping slop.

We can't be sure if AI concept art was used for Palworld unless they release that information (which I bet they will) but even without that, the use of default unity assets in the game, the fact you can capture humans and enslave anything you've captured. I bet the game doesn't functionally reprimand you for enslaving little creatures and putting them to work. I bet it rewards you by letting you catch more able slaves and money for more factories, and nothing in the game prevents you from any of it. Nothing is preventing you capturing humans besides the fact they're useless in battle and the description of doing so being 'frowned upon' as if a description people can easily skip over and miss is something people will take seriously in a 'pokemon with guns'.

Other creature capture games make it a point that these creatures are your friends, you're journeying alongside them, the creatures you've had join your party love you just as much as you love them, which is why I also hate games and other media like this where people will take only the most surface level shit from a game and engage with it in bad faith. creature capture games like this that go 'haha isn't this funny? You're taking animals against their will and making them beat eachother up till they're unconscious, what if they got bloody and died, wouldn't that be crazy?' is on par with taking the fact Mario uses mushrooms to power up and going 'dude isn't it so funny how he takes shrooms? What if he got high when he did that lol'. It's one of the easiest interpretations of a game because people who engage with media like that don't actually engage with the core of what the game actually is.

Pokemon for an example is fundamentally a game about the environment monsters and humans live in, humans' relationship with them, growing up alongside friends and growing bonds with them, and even further than that, misplaced beliefs that can lead to catastrophic concequences, the need for control that can overtake people's lives, and above all of that, that the environment and the creatures that live in it need to be protected and cared for.

Palworld doesn't have a story. It has some characters, and it has some things you might need to fight against. A Pal liberation movement, a gang, police. It's an open world game, but I can't find for the life of me any quests or missions you're given, or any characters that exist besides the leaders. You can be put in jail for assaulting humans or pals, apparently? If the game's goal is to make people upset over it, or to be an edgy game about pokemon with guns, just a cynical look into the dev's mind, with nothing else to say, then it's doing it's job very well. It might even be fun to play if you're there for the gameplay and don't look too hard at it. Still fucking makes my blood boil. It isn't meant to have any kind of meaning to it, just an uncritical game about the enslavement of animals with nothing to say about it. They're tools for you to get stronger, nothing else. It makes my stomach turn.