#i changed my status yet again in between writing this but still. yes.

[noxtivagus]

alphinaud my beloved he's just like me fr

[the-darklings]

──𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐢 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐞 [𝐈.]

summary: "What does the Lord of Dreams dream about?"

pairing: dream of the endless x f!reader

wc: 3.1k

warnings: pre the sandman so minimal spoilers, a lil angsty, some yearning, putting a thousand years into a slow burn, Dream is Dream ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

notes: so I originally intended to write and post this as one massive fic but decided to split it up and do a snapshots series when/as I get inspired instead. yes, this really will span 1000 years because Dream is Like That™

series masterlist |

PART ONE: YEAR 0 TO 200

It begins with a cool, rasping: “Wake up.”

Butterfly wings beat against your cheek, sweet pollen dusting your skin while a yawn works your mouth. You smother it in your hand, or try, feeling oddly refreshed for a change. 

“Good mornin’,” you mumble, blinking blearily up at the looming, dark silhouette above you. “Who are you?”

The man before you is neither tall nor short—he's somewhere in between human traits and something old, ancient. A forgotten mortal instinct hums beneath your skin that this is no ordinary man. He's pale, drawn, clothed in all black. His stoic countenance doesn't shift. He doesn't leer or ogle. He simply stands there, a still statue in a backdrop of luscious green, and you blink owlishly up at him. 

“I’m the King of Dreams and Nightmares, and this is my domain.”

Even his voice is at odds with this place. Deep, low, rasping drawl.  

“Oh. That’s nice.”

He certainly has an intense stare, piercing despite the softness of his words, “Who are you?”

Rubbing dust off your cheek, you yawn again, stretching your arms over your head. You feel better than you have… in a long time. 

“I’m the Wanderer. Or at least that’s what others call me. I don’t have any fancy titles, though.”

The man in all black circles you unhurriedly. Flowers beneath his feet seem to part for him, humming with life. It’s a casual display, one he likely doesn’t even notice, but you do. The air in the meadow is warm, sweet, and filled with pulsing power oozing from him. 

“You are not a dream, nor are you a nightmare,” he concludes. “You’re mortal, and yet…”

You raise your hand. “Cursed mortal,” you clarify helpfully. 

He turns towards you slowly. Wait. King. Right. “Uh, your liege,” you add lamely. 

“A cursed mortal,” he repeats steadily. “You do not belong here, Wanderer. Leave my realm now, or I will have you removed.”

“Wait, wait…” You scramble to your feet, dusting your clothes. It’s pointless, of course, but old habits die hard. “One question before I go.”

He pauses mid-turn, silent. But you take it as a sign you should continue. Tilting your head to the side, you examine the black speck in an endless sea of wonderment, realising he’s created this. He’s the one who crafted this beauty. What an odd contradiction. Maybe that’s why your original question slips past your mind, latching onto another question altogether.

“What does the Lord of Dreams dream about?”

His pale stare snaps to you. 

A blink, then he’s gone. 

“Rude.”

.

“I told you to leave.”

“You did. But you never said I couldn’t come back.”

The Lord of Dreams stares down at you. You twist a poppy between your lips with a grin, dropping one leg over your bent knee. 

“You are rather bold for a curse.”

You sit up, crossing your legs beneath you. The poppy flower drifts into your open palm. “I’ll make you a deal.”

His head slants slightly. On anyone else, such a gesture might be scornful or condescending. But on him, it’s no more than idle indifference. His black coat brushes over the flowers as he strolls ahead, his gait leisurely. 

“And why would I care for such a thing?” he wonders idly. “Do not make me banish you. There’s no place for you here.”

There’s no venom or contempt to be found in his words. He’s stating facts and eventualities as casually as one might discuss the weather. 

You choke down on a bitter laugh, a distant helplessness lancing through your chest. “I know. Trust me, I know. I… look. I wander. It’s what I do. I swear I won’t cause you trouble. Your realm is a beautiful place, that’s all. I won’t stay here permanently anyway. I can’t. But may I please stop by occasionally? I’ll stay out of your way, I swear.”

His impassive bearing doesn’t soften. Shrewd, old eyes—sad eyes, you conclude distantly—regard you from beneath a wild mop of dark hair. “You presume I’m one to grant clemency?” 

He has a point there, but you’re not about to point it out. 

Sun bears down on you both, and it’s comical how much he sticks out in this prepossessing dream. Sulky and dark—it’s hard to comprehend this came from him. That someone so removed could craft such beauty solely for other humans to escape into. Dream Lord might be aloof, but he’s not all bad. No one putting so much care into their realm could be. 

“No offence, but you’re not as bad as some of your other siblings,” you point out dryly. 

Faint interest materialises in that bottomless, ancient gaze. Brief as it is. “You’ve met the Endless?”

You suppose that would be a big deal in anyone’s book, won’t it? You’ve stopped thinking about it, though. Had your mortal mind pondered the vastness making up this universe, you would have driven yourself mad. Maybe that was the point of the curse. Oddly fitting, you suppose. Your real punishment would be eternal madness. You take it one day at a time now. Not belonging anywhere is better than not existing at all.  

“Every realm and dimension in this universe is open to me, but I can’t stay there for long,” you explain, hoping that knowing more, understanding more, would help your case. “I get trapped in pockets between worlds. Have you ever been stuck in Despair’s domain? Your sister is not a fun person to be around.”

King of Dreams considers you with ponderous air. “Why can’t you stay?”

Damn it. You hoped he won’t ask. Though hoping that an ancient, all-powerful god personified won’t work through all the threads swiftly was probably idiotic hope at best. 

“Oh, you know,” you begin casually with a shrug and a faint laugh, tiptoeing through the flowers surrounding you. “The usual curse stuff. Death, misery and misfortune follow me everywhere I go. No place to belong bla bla bla.”

“All the more reason you should go.”

You pause, deflating. Your back to him, you nod, shoulders slumping. He has a reputation, doesn't he? You've asked about him since your last visit. Lonesome, reticent, fearsome if pushed. "Right. Uh, do you at least have a name? Or should I continue calling you my liege?"

You peek at him over your shoulder. You're unsure if you should laugh at his slightly sour expression or if that will get you locked up in some dingy pocket universe. Nah. You're not important enough. He's also far too powerful and knows it. Nor does he seem like the type. 

“Dream,” he says lastly. 

Your grin is bright and immediate, pleasantly surprised by the fact he answered at all. “Nice to meet you. I’m Wanderer.” Huffing, you hang your head in abashed amusement, continuing, “I already told you that, but just in case you forgot.”

You lift your head to find an empty meadow. Your look around wildly, groaning. 

“That’s really rude, by the way!” you shout into the balmy air. 

Your words bounce and slice through the Dreaming, as endless as its ruler. No reply comes.

The trees and the flowers around you rustle with the breeze as if silently agreeing with you.

.

“Before you say anything or pull apart my atoms, I’m sorry. I’m still pretty new at this. Sometimes I just end up places. I can’t help it.”

Dream’s gaze is emotionless as the previous times you’ve run into each other. It’s been a while this time. Time itself is an odd thing; slippery and woolly when you slip through dimensions and unfailingly confusing each time.

Dream’s hands remain clasped behind his back. It’s impossible to tell what he’s thinking, but he hasn’t torn you to pieces or thrown you out yet, so that’s something. Or maybe you’re too accustomed to hostile company. He hasn’t done or said anything offputting, you remind yourself. He’s been distant, perhaps a touch protective of his realm, but hardly unpleasant. Or threatening. 

Deam Lord strides alongside the river shore, watching you from the corner of his eye. “Who cursed you?”

You splash your legs in the sparkly water, delighted by how pleasant and authentic it feels. Everything about the Dreaming feels more solid than the waking world ever has. “I don’t know.”

He pauses, still the only dark smear in an otherwise tableau, colourful scene. “You do not remember.”

So an ancient God is astute. Who would have figured that one? 

“Okay, fine.” You shrug your shoulders, slanting your head towards the blue sky. “I don’t, I forgot. I don’t remember my human life. It was taken from me. Another quirky part of my curse, I suppose. I don’t know my name, who I was, or why I was cursed. Eternal torment, yay!”

There’s little joy to be found in your quiet, tight words. There’s only emptiness, a drawn-out eternity you will spend drifting from one place to another, yawning before you. Never wanted anywhere, never happy. Every day is about making peace with that knowledge and trying to continue despite it. On days like today, it’s almost easy. 

Dream stands facing away from you, but his head is slanted in your direction ever-so-slightly. The quiet intensity burns into your skin, pecking under it. There's nothing he will find there—no power, no secrets—that you haven't already divulged to him. 

“And if you could?” His words come out quieter than usual. You’re not naive enough to consider it curiosity, not with how apathetic he sounds. “Would you seek absolution—”

“Sleep.”

A beat, then, “So you’re slothful.”

How can someone sound so flat yet so unimpressed at the same time? You almost snort. 

Your feet drop back into the stream, splashing water around you. Beneath the current, your heels dig into the pebbled river floor. “I can’t sleep.”

Air tightens and coils around you. The temperature drops several degrees in a single breath. Black, treacherous clouds swell on the horizon in mere seconds. There’s a tickle of air, and then the King of Dreams is beside you in a rustle of cloth, except this time, some nameless darkness swirls beneath his skin. In pitch-black shadows his hunched form casts. He’s King of Nightmares, too, and it’s all too easy to forget it. 

“Do not…” he rasps, “lie to me, Wanderer.”

“I’m not,” you retort weakly, breathless. 

Dream stretches to his full height, still expressionless, shadows at his feet now gone. He doesn't lunge, doesn't sneer. He hadn't even raised his voice. He's serene in the most terrifying way possible. "Do you take me for a fool? You were sleeping the first time we met."    

Your fingers dig into the dirt beneath your palms. 

“Yes. Why do you think I want to come here so badly?” You force out a breath, levelling your voice, reminding yourself that while Dream might not be cruel, it doesn’t mean he will tolerate disrespect in his kingdom. “This… is the only place I can rest, Dream. Ever. I can’t sleep, and I can’t dream.”

He appears unconvinced. “Every mortal dreams.”

Iron-like certainty—as if the thought of an exception doesn’t compute because his knowledge is absolute. 

A sad, wobbling smile works across your mouth. “Not someone like me.” 

This time, he says nothing.

.

“What about that one?”

The dream in question is a creation between a unicorn and a butterfly. Golden shimmer drips from its body every time it moves, munching on virescent, tall grass. 

“I created it three hundred years ago.”

For nearly two hundred years, you’ve been slipping in and out of the Dreaming, and its ruler remains as frustrating as the first time you met. With Dream, some things are routine: his indulgence in your conversation, monotonous as he can sound during them; strolling through the Dreaming and meeting its many occupants, dreams and nightmares he’s crafted. 

It’s not quite chaperoning, but it’s not quite friendship, either. Dream permits you to visit, but you never stay long or are invited to do so. At best, he tolerates you. Which is still better than outright contempt. He’s holding something back. A wall between him and any other creation well and truly erect, utterly impenetrable. Dream Lord rules over his domain and follows his rules. Unchanged and preferring it that way. He savours his solitary existence, and it’s sad, in a way, because he lives in a place of such impossible beauty and wonder. 

You’ve learned some things about him with your visits. His love for his creations is fierce despite no sentimental displays toward them. He’s impersonal even to those you would assume he trusts the most, like Lucienne. He can, you’ve also found, be unforgiving to those who break his rules. It’s a necessity, not cruelty, but it doesn’t change the fact you’ve seen first-hand how he rules. 

“Wow, thank you for that riveting detail,” you drawl sarcastically, kicking a small rock in your path. “I’m feeling so inspired.” Leaning closer, you squint at him suspiciously, “Are you sure you’re not secretly Despair in there?”

Not a twitch of jaw or a quirk of his brows. “I am not.”

Pursing your lips, you grin gleefully, “Prove it.”

Dream doesn’t slow. On such occasions, he must surely consider you a nuisance at best, a pest at worst. None of it shows on his face. 

“What makes you believe I care about proving myself to someone like you?” he questions dryly.

He’s not endeavouring to insult you. To him, you must be no more than an exceedingly resilient ant. 

The path ahead is winding, with no visible end in sight, but a stone bridge sits in the far distance to the right. Over it, more marvels this world contains. Everything here is fantastical and beautiful and frightening all at once. You can’t get enough. You doubt you’ll ever be able to get enough of the Dreaming. Perhaps the most confusing thing is how readily Dream himself chooses to see this only as a duty. One he seemingly enjoys but not one to bring him much joy personally. You’ve never once seen him smile. 

He cuts for a lonely figure seated upon his throne. In a sprawling castle where his subjects choose to step out of his path rather than into it.     

“Then race me,” you challenge, spinning on your heels until you’re walking backwards. Another grin, toothy and exigent, bites into your cheeks. “Just to the bridge over there. Have some fun for once, Dream King.”

“I do not—”

But you’re sprinting ahead before he’s finished, a happy shriek piercing the air, “See ya!”

A kaleidoscope of colour blinds you, smears and twines around you—rich, syrupy power seeps into your skin and mouth as you sprint ahead with reckless abandon. In your acceleration, the edges of the Dreaming blur and expand; in those edges, Dream is everywhere. He is the Dreaming. He’s life and death, joy and terror, and—

Black blots the path ahead. Dream stands next to the bridge, regarding you impassively. But for a second, just one, you think there’s a brief glimmer of amusement at your gaping mouth and wide-eyed stare before it’s blinked away. 

“What—how—cheater.”

He nods towards the bridge, his demeanour as orderly as ever. “You never clarified the terms.”

.

“Does it ever get irritating? Doing this?”

Your thumb works through another page, legs crossed as you prop the thick volume on your knee. Muted candlelight illuminates the library, ink and paper thick in the air and your lungs. It’s quiet here. You talk because staying silent would make your eyes droop and your defences lower. This is your resting place, but it’s been at least a year or two since you’ve last spoken with Dream. It would be a shame to waste the opportunity.   

He doesn’t look up at you from whatever he’s working on. “No.”

Digging through your thoughts, you find another question, “Do you ever get bored?”

You’ve learned to read his minute tells. Days when he’s in the mood for your incessant questions and days when it’s better to sit with him in mutual quiet. Recognising this need has only helped you capitalise on moments such as these. 

A gargantuan wooden table separates you. Dream's messy hair is even wilder today, his head edging marginally in your direction to indicate he's paying attention. "This job is not boring. It is demanding, but someone must do it. That is why my siblings and I exist."

“Do you ever get lonely?”

That gives him a pause. A second pulse throbs through the library, perhaps the foundation of this world, which was built upon him, from him, and when the King of Dreams slowly raises his head to gaze at you, there’s mild consideration to be found in his features. 

“Do you, Wanderer?” he drawls quietly, and your heart stings, twisting in your ribcage. 

“Of course.” You’re not ashamed to admit it. You might have been once, but those parts of you have eroded away long ago. The same way you’ve felt your humanity start to corrode with years, a stone being worn down by an endless storm. Small creases appear around Dream’s eyes, possibly intrigued by your candour, so you add, “So much so that I often find it unbearable. I felt lonely for so long it’s like…”

Long silence stretches between you. You don’t realise your head has lowered back towards the pages until his deep voice reaches you across the quiet space, “Like what?”

Clearing your throat, you shrug your shoulders, pressing your chin briefly into your shoulder. “I don’t remember what not being alone feels like, you know?”

You avoid his stare prickling your cheek, refocusing on your novel. 

“You are not alone right now.”

You’re perfectly aware those words mean nothing. That he’s stating the obvious in the same empirical, matter-of-fact manner he often does. He’s right. After all, you’re not alone. You’re sharing this moment together. Two beings alive in the same instance, floating through an endless void of time and chances. A God and an ant. You’re so tiny when compared to him. Despite your brazen words and conduct, you’re a speck for someone like him and his siblings.

The Endless will be here until this universe ceases to exist. You will eat yourself alive one day. There's only one way this ends.

But until that day comes, Dream is right. You’re not alone.

You don’t glance his way, but you do smile. “Neither are you.”

notes: and that's a wrap. god, i'm so rusty when it comes to fics. I do hope to write more for this, the same way I'm hoping for more sandman in general. this will eventually hit canon timeline and potentially go into things past the show (recently bought the comics so I'll be starting them soonish). any thoughts, ideas, or want more? let me know & thank you for reading!!!

[warriorstale001]

Greetings!!! So... A thought... you know the OSD Stone Sleep au...

OSDiff Stone Sleep.

Dream in a weakened state in an au seeped in negitivity last time that happened he turned to stone. And this time... well he might not fight it. He can feel it and just lets it happen he's sick, scared and in pain... maybe being a statue isn't so bad after all.

Someone coming in to check on him. One of the boys for guard duty or Nightmare himself only to find Dream laying there nothing more then a statue... he looks... peaceful...

Well uh... Congratulations on finding what must be the one of the most depressing endings that OSDiff could possibly have... Because wow that is a sad idea you have come up with, my friend.

Of course I am very aware of the OSD Stone!Sleep AU by @calcium-cat but an OSDiff version?!

Where to begin...

First off... THE FACT DREAM JUST LETS IT HAPPEN??? Like WHOA that is so angsty and so dang sad... The idea Dream has just completely given up after what Nightmare has done so decides he's better off as a stone statue... YIKES!!! I will say tho that while OSDiff Dream is in a pretty poor state right now in the fanfic, I don't believe he has quite gotten to THIS level of despondence... He has some hope still (believe it or not) it's just buried underneath all the pain of what Nightmare just put him through. But for the sake of this AU, yes I am willing to accept that Dream is at the absolute lowest point he can go and thus decides he's better off as a statue.... The poor thing :/.

I still can't decide whether I'd prefer if its one of the boys who discovers Dream's statue or Nightmare himself. Because the boys discovering it first could lead to a scene where Nightmare is contemplating his actions from the Prologue in his office (think start of Chapter 1) and instead of Cross telling Nightmare he's sick, Dream is already a statue and Nightmare can do nothing but rush down to the dungeon to see for himself. So many emotions go through Nightmare's mind as he sees his statue there, confusion at first, denial and of course anger. This wasn't supposed to happen like this. He wasn't finished with Dream yet! He was still meant to be suffering, but instead he had chosen to turn back into a statue to avoid his wrath?! No... That wasn't fair to him! He had been planning this for so long, yet Dream had to go and ruin it just like that?! How could he do that to him?! Why did nothing ever work out the way he intended it too?! Now he'll never get his revenge on Dream... He'll never find peace or happiness. He stares at the statue for a while, lost in his own spiralling thoughts before he finally moves it to one of his tower rooms, locking the door behind him.

The most important thing to remember about this particular OSDiff Nightmare (and probably one of his most tragic traits) is that in this timeline, Dream's sudden change into a statue doesn't allow him to go through the character growth he would have gone through in the normal OSDiff timeline, meaning he is not yet at the point where he would want to mourn Dream or regret his actions despite what's happened. There is no connection, bonding or talking between brothers in this timeline, which leads this Nightmare to shove Dream to an almost untouched section of the hideout where Nightmare can simply attempt to forget about him. He's buried but still there, shoved to a section of the castle, just like the grief and loss shoved to the corner of his mind. Dream turning to stone is definitely a tragic aspect of this AU, but I also find Nightmare's lack of character growth and the fact he's never able to regret his actions just as tragic. He'd be lucky to ever feel true happiness again after Dream turns to stone in that timeline...

I swear I have so many ideas for this AU, especially because it has so much potential, but I just have no time to write them ugh :'(. If any of you wanna write your take on this scenario, though please feel free I would absolutely love to see that.

[wanderlust-in-my-soul]

My weekly roundup CW 11

Well, I watch a lot during the week, as you all might know. I really want to write a little bit more about the stuff I watch, but time and work kind of get in my creative way. So I try to write down my thoughts after watching stuff to create a little weekly ranking on my, most of the times, quiet sundays (and because I love lists and this is a good excuse for me to create a new OneNote journal!).

☼ 1. Chains of Heart (Epside 5)

The series I am looking forward to the most every week. I just enjoy it to a healthy amount. Well, slowly but surely everything becomes a little clearer. The biggest mystery for me is indeed Mr. Lue's gloves! Why are you wearing them? What can people tell from your hands? And dude, yeah, you're scarred, I get it, but come on! It's warm and humid in Thailand and you're walking around with a turtleneck and jacket over it. I'd melt! But well, the plot, I don't really care much about it. I just celebrate Ken and Mr. Lue. I think they're cute together and I enjoy that awkward shyness between them! At least there was a confession. Now Ken just needs to finally take a proper look. And yes, the series looks just awesome! There were so many great shots again this episode too! Beautiful!

☼ 2. A Shoulder To Cry On (Episode 1+2)

A strong start. The character of Jo Tae Hyun is at first unsympathetic, even if you can notice that there is something grumbling under the surface. As a reader of the webtoon, I know roughly what will happen, but I hope that the series manages to change some elements and show some of the "love" between the two, which the author herself said was not so easy for her to create. The two members of Omega X make a good first impression and you can already tell that they feel comfortable with each other. In the second episode, the chemistry of the two is just great and I like how they get closer, almost become friends, how Jo Tae Hyun becomes calmer and nicer and Lee Da Yeol lets other people into his life, makes friends. We learn something about Tae Hyun's past, nothing really revealing yet of course, just that he seems to have a dark past. I like the two of them together.

☼ 3. Our Datin Sim (Episode 3+4)

I really like these two. They are awkward and cute together at the same time. We finally have a confession from Eddy at the end of the fourth episode, which of course we've known since the first episode, that he likes Wan too, still! The only fear I have is that Wan will run away again, but Eddy already said he won't let him go now. That's it, hold on to your man!

☼ 4. Unintentionally Love Story (Episode 1+2)

I love it. Could be because of the main character, but whatever. Our protagonists get to know each other and there is definitely attraction on both sides. Now the only problem is that our cute Ji Won Young just plays his future love interest. Sure, he wants his job back, but nope, that's just drama! I don't want drama with them, I just want cotton candy and smitten grins! Damn. Our second couple will provide enough drama I guess..

☼ 5. The Promise (Episode 4)

I love the series. Phu and Nan aren't really progressing at the moment and I could slap them against the wall. It's obvious that they like each other. So obvious! And I already can't stand the drama arising from Phu's secrecy. Granny's friend was definitely correct: lying gets you nowhere. Now Phu just needs to take a cue from Granny and her posse and put his balls back in his pants and finally talk straight to Nan. Otherwise it will really hurt in the end. Everyone sees it, just Phu apparently not quite yet…I still like the two of them together. However! Should Nan have enough of Phu at the end and look else where for a new partner and seek comfort in the arms of Party, he has my blessing!

☼ 6. Bed Friend (Epsidoe 5)

Okay, King marks his territory in front of Krit, the new boss - don't know if this was a good idea...he just woke up a hunter. I'm confused about the status of King and Uea. Are they no longer just friends with benefits, just because King kissed Uea in the parking garage? What is certain is that King is a bit in love with Uea and that Uea is not permanently rebuilding his walls and granting King access. Nice. Uea's mother? Not so nice. I wouldn't have a problem with her disappearing from the scene.

☼ 7. Jack o'Frost (Episode 5)

I knew that it would be unpleasant when the truth comes to light. Can trust be restored, can we start over together? We were left with these questions and I have no idea how it will turn out. I do indeed understand both sides, doesn't mean I approve of Fumiya's concealments. I liked that Ritsu listened to him, not everyone would have and I respect his decision in the end and didn't expect anything else. Let's see what next week's finale brings.

☼ 8. A Boss And A Babe (Epsiode 3)

If the intern takes you to the shower during a video call, I think you can be sure that he won't be embarrassed easily. It's a scene that sticks in the mind. The development between the two is surprisingly quick, after all Gun is just introduced to Cher's mother already. The two are definitely cute together, and I like the scenes in which Gun is a bit cooled down the best. He's a bit of a pain in the ass when he yaps without point or shame.

☼ 9. The End Of The World With You (Episode 8/FInale)

I have only one thing to say about this finale, and that is a gif:

That sums up the absurdity of how this ended quite well. The series started really well and I was excited, but as it progressed it became a bit fantastic and that just wasn't implemented that well. Was Yuma a little god now and did he know it all along or was he a retelling of the little prince? I don't know. Was it a fever dream? Who knows. The end is open and gives room for reflection, all in all a quite positive end, in which it was once again shown that it is worthwhile to live on, even if the future may not look so rosy (I leave out here that you would have to have the perfect partner, because even without him you can come to this realization).

☼ 10. All The Liquors (Epsiode 5+6)

The alcohol, the alcohol…I can't quite get my head around the concept of this series. Now the previously abstinent boss wants to change and happily drinks alcohol along, has no problem ordering alcohol or with drunk guests. I don't really know. Yes, love can move mountains and if your crush is a heavy alcoholic (sorry, but I can't see him as anything else), then you have to change and start drinking yourself, right? This is a normal conclusion. After all, that's what etiquette wants. A beach scene could not be missing. Yes, the two are quite cute together, but somehow the alcohol brings me again and again away from liking this series…could be personal experience with the subject that I can not approve of this excessive consumption of alcoholic beverages…

☼ 11. Tin Tem Jai (Episode 3)

This was not the worst watch of the week! I am surprised myself and would not have expected it. But with episode three and Tin's cheerfulness dialed down a bit, the series is actually quite cute. The subtitles don't make sense some time, the dialogue and characters are a bit…simple-minded (you act so manly, I didn't think you had your period…), but it was quite okay this week. Tin can be really annoying with his flirting with Park, but you can also tell that Park isn't all that resistant to it. I still don't get a lot of the relationships, and I still don't understand why so many little girls are left alone somewhere by their mothers, or dropped off at the next best thing. And I also don't understand Tin's painting lessons.

☼ 12. PasSenger (Epsiode 2)

The series shines for me on an unimaginative script and acting performances that I already feared would not pick me up. The only positive was the portrayal of Bamee and his developing crush on Kiao. He did a pretty good job with that. Other than that…anyone who has seen My gear and your gown or My engineer will notice that not that much has changed in the acting power of the two mains…It's just not my cup of tea. I admit it, I watched it in double speed…not a good sign, maybe I drop this soon….

[welcometomyoasis]

❀*ੈ✩‧₊˚ request guidelines (closed): ☘︎ only writing for seventeen ☘︎ types of fics: short drabbles, headcanons, reactions ☘︎ gender: i’m trying to write with a gn! reader in mind but please let me know if you want a gn, female or male reader ☘︎ genres i will write for: sfw content, fluff, angst, romance, platonic relationships, hurt/ comfort, soft thoughts, aus (eg. idol au, college au etc.) ☘︎ requesting for members: you can request for individual members, different combinations of members, age lines, units or for ot13 ☘︎ genres i will not write for: memberxmember, a/b/o trope, sexual assaults, lgbt+ content (i am straight and it is inappropriate for me to write it as i would not understand the feelings and experiences of the people within the community), nsfw content (fics may contain suggestive themes) ☘︎ grey areas: violence, mental health issues, poly relationships | please reach out to me first via asks as it depends on my comfort level and knowledge of the issue ☘︎ remember: i have the right to refuse any requests and i will not be able to constantly create content so please be patient ☘︎ estimated waiting time for requests: anywhere between 1-4 months (i try to post in order of the request to be fair, but i can't promise that i'll be fast or that i will get to your request in time) ☘︎ clarification on status of request: if it's been a while and i haven't posted your request yet, please don't hesitate to shoot me an ask! i'll check and get back to you soon! ☘︎ don’t hesitate to reach out if you want me to clarify anything ☘︎ if you have read all that, thank you :)

❀*ੈ✩‧₊˚ general important notes about my blog: ☘︎ while i will try my best to upload and have posts queued, i do not have a fixed posting schedule ☘︎ i will block bot-like blogs (blogs that use the default avatar and have no posts/ reblogs) ☘︎️ reblogs are okay but please do not repost and/ or translate my work ☘︎ please be nice i will not tolerate any and all hate/ discriminatory/ derogatory comments | i will not hesitate to block anyone who engages in such behaviour | this is supposed to be a safe environment for everyone ☘︎ although this is a blog dedicated to creating sfw content, i am above 20 so i might interact with blogs that post nsfw content | mdni with those posts/ tags/ blogs 🔞 ☘︎ all work is fictional. in other words svt are just characters in the story i am writing. what i write is just my own interpretation of how the members of svt are depending on what the story is ☘︎ images used are from free stock websites, google, or pinterest ☘︎ lastly, i kindly ask that minors under 15 dni

❀*ੈ✩‧₊˚ important note on plagiarism: ☘︎ i feel very strongly about plagiarism as it has happened to me (and my friends) before. plagiarism is extremely disgusting and imo it is pathetic if someone wants to repost other people's work for personal validation. ☘︎ like other writers, i put in a lot of hard work, love, effort and literally a part of my soul into my writing. it's heartbreaking and deeply saddening when one finds out their work has been plagiarised. it feels like your thoughts and feelings have been violated, taken out of context, repurposed as a means to reach an end. like you've basically been used as nothing more than a tool or a content creating machine. and to have someone else take the credit for your hard work? it's a soul crushing feeling i never wish on anyone else. ☘︎ so. again, i kindly ask that you do not repost and translate my work. if anyone sees that my work has been plagiarised, i kindly ask that you let me know. i will appreciate it greatly. ☘︎ but how will you know if a piece of work is plagiarised? ☘︎ one. they copy my work word for word. ☘︎ two. they copy my words while changing the main character in the fic. ☘︎ three. they copy my storyline exactly while changing some words (characters, using synonyms for some of my writing). yes, this is still plagiarism (and i think it's stupid because with the amount of effort it takes to rewrite the story just use your brain and write a new one.) ☘︎ if any of you see the above, please let me know. thank you :) ☘︎ and one last thing, to anyone thinking of plagiarising me, don't get caught because i won't be lenient ;)

[aquaburst3]

The thing about me being in my late twenties is that I'm at a point in my life where I look at the Helluva Boss characters as peers instead of older adult figures. Exactly like a lot of the Marauders Generation of Harry Potter. Honestly, Blitz and Stolas are both immature assholes, being on par with Ted Mosby from HIMYM.

Blitz is a self-sabotaging tsundere who pushes his loved ones away whenever something is bothering him to protect his own self image. He's overly controlling. He often spies on Millie and Moxxie while they're out on a date, sleeping or having sex to live out vicariously through their loving relationship. Seriously, who does that? He also uses Stolas to spy on Millie and Moxxie's date. His relationships often go up in flames due him ghosting people and doing shit like stealing someone's car for a joyride. (He actually reminds me a lot of Ace from Twisted Wonderland in that sense, considering he ghosted his ex girlfriend instead of breaking off the relationship himself. Only difference is that Ace is a teenager and Blitz is an adult.)

Stolas is a self-absorbed narcissist. He loves throwing himself a self pity party at the drop of a hat, but he doesn't care about how his self-gratifying behaviour affects those around him, including his own daughter.

Octavia clearly tells Stolas how his cheating was taking a toll on her and he apologizes for it, but yet Stolas’ overall behaviour doesn’t change in the slightest. In Seeing Stars, Octavia asked Stolas about going to see the stars like he promised, but he ignored her in favour of arguing with Stella. So instead of putting the phone down and focusing on his daughter, he just brushes her off to focus on his own problems. Also, why is Loona the one to do everything in her power to find Octavia and not Stolas? Stolas could have simply transported them both to a different location to get away from the showrunners to find his daughter instead of watching Blitz be in a sitcom. Objectively, it tells us Stolas is prioritizing this affair between him and Blitz over his relationship with his daughter, which is awful in every way.

Worst of all, he's using his power and status to strong arm Blitz into an agreement where he has to have sex with him once a month in order to use the Grimoire for his business while Blitz is running for his life. Blitz only agrees, because that's his and his employee's source of income on the line. Even if this arrangement was just dinner dates instead, it would still be sexual coercion, which is a form of SA, since he's still someone in a position of power taking advantage of someone who can't say no. Hell, Stolas even guilt trips Blitz into pity sex with him for their first time together! (Again, Blitz was in the wrong there as well, since Stolas was drunk and not in the right frame of mind. But that still doesn't excuse what Stolas did either, especially since Blitz was uncomfortable with the whole ordeal and didn't want to sex with him before he manipulated him into doing the act.) He constantly belittles and talks down to Blitz instead of talking to him as an equal, which visually makes him very uncomfortable. Honestly, if Blitz was a girl their relationship would be super uncomfortable. Hell, their relationship is exactly like Val/Angel, except with them it's viewed as toxic while with them it's true love.

Yes, Stolas is trying to get a device from Ozzie that would allow Blitz to traverse the human world freely. But, that still doesn't take away the ickiness of where their relationship started out, especially since he's the one who came up with it in the first place.

Blitz gets a pass. While he's a dick, it's due to his past trauma, including believing that he caused an accident that killed his mom, and those things are treated like flaws that he has to overcome to become a better person. That is how you write an effective character arc.

But Stolas? Not so much. He's the textbook definition of a woobie. Whenever there is a chance to call Stolas out for his actions and hold him accountable in order to make him grow, it's immediately dashed in order to let him completely off the hook and make us pity him. While I know that Stolas was originally intended to be a villain and that was changed midway through production, which is why he suffers from contradictory writing, it still doesn't excuse the writers dashing every opportunity to have him face the music for his actions now that he's a more heroic character. Actions have consequences, and that even goes for him.

(Said this before and I'll say it again, he reminds me of A LOT of Malleus from Twisted Wonderland. Both are powerful princes, who take interest of someone lower status than them, even if in Malleus' case it's in a platonic sense in canon. They constantly do some very fucked up actions that affects those around them, but the narrative never has the balls to call them out and hold them accountable for their actions. Worst yet, anyone who does call them out is treated as the bad guy. They are both prone to being selfish. The only things that makes Malleus more tolerable compared to Stolas are that he actually does care about his loved ones and he's not using his royal status to SA someone.)

Honestly, if they were real guys around my age, I wouldn't want to be around them thanks to them being toxic douchebags, especially Stolas. Which isn't automatically a bad thing. I love plenty of characters that I wouldn't want to befriend or be around in real life. Hell, Blitz is one of my favs in the show, despite him not being the best person. But the way the narrative bends over backwards to excuse Stolas' actions makes him not only a bad person, but ungodly annoying, since it feels the narrative is gaslighting me into believing he's likeable.

I think the reason why the fandom doesn't look at them this way is because it's mostly made of up teenagers. (Which is kinda disturbing since this show is for an 18+ audience. Considering I watched South Park and read spicy fics when I was their age, I can't really judge. xD) These younger fans are looking at the show from the perspective of a child watching adults much older them instead of the perspective that me and others my age are viewing it. They don't understand how immature they are, because they are young and have a lot of growing up to do themselves.

It makes me wonder how these younger fans will view this show once they are the same age as me and are adults out in the real world. Would their life experience make them dislike those two as well? Or would they go the Yana Toboso stan route and find ways to make excuses for the shitty writing due to the story meaning a lot to them as teenagers? I hope it's the former, but it's more likely gonna be the latter.

While I'm taking inspo from this series for an original idea I'm brewing, I want to read some fix-it rewrites fic of this series. This series has a lot of potential, but it's being all dumped in favour of stupid writing choices.

[fansblogarchive]

Trend-Servants (part 1 cuz it hit the text limit -mod)

Greetings to my loyal minions, I have held you captive for several weeks awaiting further commands by your leader! Haha, no, that's what I'd say if I was conceited enough to take advantage of my numerous adoring supporters. All seven of them! Yeah, I know… IT’S TOO MANY TO COUNT ON ONE HAND! But anyway, I started thinking about the concept of popularity in general. Y'know, the current “cool” standard, which I would, naturally, lift from a stage musical - “hanging with the right cohorts, being good at sports”. Despite Test Tube’s optimistic support (She tells me, “You could be a delightful asset to a checkers team!”), I unquestionably fail at both of these. It makes me question, do fame and notoriety really matter in the grand scheme of things? To answer in short: "Lolnope". Any sane figure would lecture you about these values, probably the same shreds of sentimentality I'd have shared with you before I joined this series. Would I be biased to claim popularity is irrelevant since I’ve never been too popular myself? Well, luckily we don’t have to worry about that. Like I said, seven whole people are reading this right now! Yet alas, you start to think outside the box once you're on a reality show where viewer vote dictates who stays and who goes. Seriously, the status quo around here is basically be well-liked or be forced to bid adieu prematurely. It makes you hold a lot more value in the things people say. I’d love to just write off users like Fanisworsethaneverything237, but his vote might be what stands between me and a million, life-changing dollars. Not to mention this game basically revolves around a series of social situations, which I'd much prefer to look for any reason to stay out of, for, well, obvious reasons (#self-deprecation). But even after volunteering to get away from the action and stay in the comfort of a soccer goal, the world seemed like it was still tearing me apart… literally. It’s really all too easy to fall into the trap of believing popularity is all that matters when you're trapped under the bubble of a reality show, or some high school, or heck, even box office totals. Yeah, the hilarious new installment in one of my favorite franchises was released last weekend, but made less green than from what I’ve been hearing is a poorly executed young adult novel adaptation. Yes, yet ANOTHER one of those, I mean, that market’s really starting to become bloated. To avoid possible fan outrage I'm not going to say any names, so I diverge, er, digress. It really goes to show, people only like what they've come to know. They want the same thing over and over again, like an assembly line. Or "__ Run" game apps, which ironically, are so numerous I find I can’t run FROM them. Sigh… not everything can be as unique as this book I’m planning involving a love triangle amidst an effort to survive a dystopian future! Working title is “The Disparate Games”, keep an eye on the shelves. When something fresh or original like that comes along, not many people care. That is, unless word of mouth kicks in from some well-respected sources that tell people what they should like. Then all of a sudden the initial popularity starts… I don’t know, compounding continuously, there's a math formula involved, it escapes me. And this “formula” changes every day. So if it's temporary, what does popularity really mean? Well while I'd love to say absolutely nothing, I must admit that is not the truth. Being popular means having connections and opportunities to have doors opened for you. But I can say that even if it’s not nothing, it’s also not everything. You'll be kicked out of those doors if it's made clear you're not actually as good those connections implied. There’s a big difference between these “coattail riders” and “climbing risers”, as I like to call them. Sure, you have limits now, and your outlook may seem hopeless, but carrying a sense of self-awareness is the key. Always be yourself, but try to be conscious of how others might react. Just don't let those reactions mold you into some convoluted mesh of various others’ expect

[louwhose]

Blind Spots | Scars

AO3 | First | Previous | Next So, on AO3, I changed the rating from G -> T and added the warning "Graphic Depictions of Violence." Because, as I was writing a scene in a later chapter yesterday, I realized that it seemed a little... intense. More will be said about this on the relevant chapter. Also, there are some spoilers in here for anyone who only watches the anime. I don't think there's anything huge, but I'm not sure how good of a judge I am. If you're concerned about that at all, this is your warning.

scar | noun

\ ˈskär \

4 : a lasting moral or emotional injury

-

Twilight had many scars.

There were just as many missions where the stakes were those of physical danger rather than detection, and sometimes, he wondered at how he managed to survive. He was thankful to have those scars, if they only meant another day of life, to keep fighting the silent war he fought to protect others from having as harsh a life as he did.

Though, there was one scar that belonged not to Loid, not to Twilight, not even to Roland Spoofy, but to [REDACTED]. A simple child that lived before war reached him, that tried to pick a rose to give to his mother, and a thorn stabbed him as he tried to pick it up, leaving a faint scar to this day.

Twilight looked down at the scar, then back at the roses in the flower stand, remembering this story. Of course his mother had tended to it and made it better, and of course he went and got the roses later, more careful this time.

He missed her. Someone to give flowers to, for no other reason in the world than to see a smile on her face. Now, there was someone else he wanted to give flowers to, someone he wanted to see smile, but gone was the time when it wasn’t mixed up with conflicting interests.

Flowers. Roses. Thorns.

The Thorn Princess.

Once he suspected something was not quite as it appeared with Yor, it hadn’t been difficult to confirm that she was, in fact, an assassin. A member of Garden, to be precise. The Thorn Princess.

But he had yet to determine what he should do, if anything, moving forward. For the time being, he chose to err on the side of maintaining the status quo, reasoning that everything had gone well enough so far. At the very least, he could keep an eye on her assignments to see if she were supposed to deal with anyone from WISE. Not to mention, at this point in Operation Strix, he could hardly go and find another mother for Anya, and both of them would likely be traumatized in the process.

But he needed to certainly try to take extra precautions, now more than ever. Because if Yor ever discovered that Loid was Twilight, who knew what might happen? Yes, Garden didn’t typically seem to target WISE, but still, it was an Ostanian organization looking out for Ostanian interests.

But even then, was there anything he could do to prevent a potential fallout if his identity was somehow broken? Normally, he wouldn’t be concerned about this at all, but he was living with Yor. And she was often willing to be blinded, but he could hardly count on that working everytime, so it didn’t hurt to come up with something as a… just in case.

Perhaps his best insurance was her emotions. Making sure that she does begin to care for him more and more, but… he also cared for her, so it was likely to make it so that they both just got hurt worse if things do go badly. Then maybe it would be better to put distance between themselves. Hint at her identity, maybe?

Loid glanced at the roses, walked up, and bought them, despite the 20 dalc price tag on the bouquet. He couldn’t quite tell which plan he was going with.

-

“What are the roses for?”

Loid reluctantly dropped his gaze from Yor to stare at the roses. He wasn’t quite sure. Was it to see her smile? To make her smile for his own protection? Or to tell her he knew who she was, subtle though it may be?

“Ah, I saw them on my way home from work.” True enough. He looked back up to meet her eyes again. “And thought of you.”

And Yor did smile.

It was a small smile of gratitude, mouth barely rounding upwards, cheeks flushed. But still, a smile, unmistakeable, breathtaking. Lovely.

And that was the moment [REDACTED] realized that he had fallen in love with Yor.

But that was foolish, Twilight knew. Any unnecessary emotions had to be pushed away. Loid could have them, but Twilight wasn’t quite Loid, now was he?

“Papa and Mama are going to kiss!” Anya said loudly, interrupting the moment.

Loid sighed, looking down at his daughter. Why was she like this? It wouldn’t be surprising if she wanted to have an actual family, but… well, no matter how much even he might like that idea, it couldn’t be.

He shifted the bouquet to one arm to pull Anya away from his leg. “Why don’t you go put your stuff down in your room, and we’ll get a snack for you once you’re out?”

He watched her walk reluctantly down the hall towards her room to do as he asked, grumbling the whole time. Loid turned around once he saw her go through her door, and was met with Yor right next to him once he looked back. It still took him by surprise, how she was able to move without his notice. I suppose it must be useful in her profession, he thought. But still.

Yor tugged lightly at his coat, encouraging him to remove first his free hand before switching the roses to that arm in order to extract the other. As she turned to hang it up, Loid contemplated how… natural it felt. How decidedly normal.

And again, Loid wished that the truth of that, or at least as close to the truth of that as the two of them could get, wasn’t impossible.

Yor placed her hands around the bouquet and Loid loosened his hold so she could take it out of his hands. She smiled at him. “I’ll put these in a vase. Thank you so much for these, Loid.”

Then, softly, sweetly, quickly, she placed a hand on his shoulder to steady herself before she went onto her tiptoes and planted a kiss on his cheek, lingering just too long to be considered brief. Before Loid had a chance to react, she lowered, turned around, and sauntered off to the kitchen.

He stared after Yor in a daze, hand coming up to linger on the spot she had kissed him, feeling a blush coming on.

There was a movement to his side and he glanced over, met with the sight of Anya staring at him. Since when had she been there? He let his hand drop to his side, the flush starting to creep onto his face.

“Mama kissed Papa,” she remarked, huge grin and lit-up eyes on her face.

That stopped the floodgates preventing his blush. “So? What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing!” Anya squealed. “I love it!”

Loid sighed, contentedly. Of course she would want her parents to get along. That’s what any child would want. Something very… reasonable, even. That’s why it would hurt more than he cared to admit when this mission came to an end.

He tucked those thoughts away even as they flitted through his mind, barely even registering them himself, before fully immersing himself back into his role as Loid Forger, the father. “So, what do you want for a snack?”

“Hmm…” Anya leaned her head back as she considered the question on their way to the kitchen. “How about a cucumber!?”

Loid raised an eyebrow as he looked down at her. “You mean you want something more than peanuts?”

She nodded solemnly, climbing up into her seat at the table. “They’re cool!”

That was undeniably correct, but still, to think she wanted it that much. Loid frowned. “Is it really that hot outside tod—?”

“CUCUMBER!” Anya insisted, slamming her hands down on the table, making the few things that were on it shake as she did so.

“Alright!” he conceded. Loid glanced at Yor coming in with the flowers as he started rolling up his sleeves, glad that she hadn’t placed the vase on the table before Anya caused it to shake. He noticed her start to fuss with it a bit before he headed into the kitchen to get the cucumber, knife, and cutting board. “I’ll get it ready for you now.”

He was just wrapping his hands around it when Anya called, “Come back here!”

Loid huffed in annoyance, wondering what it could be now, but peeked his head back into the dining room. “I’m just in the kitchen to work on your snack. What is it?”

She shook her head. “Not now. I want to see you chop it up.”

“Just let me grab the cutting board and a knife, then.”

When he came back into the room, Loid was met with the sight of Yor gingerly touching one of the flowers on the edge, staring intensely at the bouquet, with a gaze nearly deserving of being described murderous. And Anya was staring at her, in some mix between fascination and horror.

Loid may love his family, but there were certainly instances that he didn’t understand them.

He set the cutting board down before getting to work chopping up the cucumber. The clacking of the motion drew both of their attention to him.

“Oh?” Yor asked. “So you’re having a cucumber?”

“Mmhmm!” Anya nodded.

Yor reached out and took one of the slices before eating it.

“Mama! That’s my snack!”

Loid briefly paused his chopping to do the same. Anya’s jaw just dropped.

Feeling a little guilty, he drew another piece out to slide across the table to her. She reached out and took it, and then paused.

“What’s that?”

Loid froze. “What?”

“On your arm,” Anya said, pointing. She gestured to a spot on her own forearm. “Here.”

He looked down at his arm. Yes, Twilight had a lot of scars, but… they were usually covered, and he didn’t have to think about them much. “A scar.”

“What happened?”

Shrapnel. From my time in the army. Like he could tell the truth.

“I scraped it against the jagged corner of a building when I was a teenager,” he answered as close to the truth as he could, before starting to chop again.

Anya’s eyes sparkled at that for some reason. Certainly, it had been a long time since he was six, but what exactly was so interesting about that?

“What about that one?” she asked, pointing to one on his other wrist, somewhat circular.

That was a more recent one, on one of his other missions. It had been a bit of a close call, getting handcuffed, and for long enough that one of his wrists got bloody. This one was a bit more challenging to explain away.

“My… watch chafed too much.”

Apparently Yor had been interested in this topic, too, because she leaned in and asked, “How did that happen?”

“I… was wearing it a notch too tight,” Loid lamely explained. Not his best work, but hopefully it would surpass their scrutiny.

“That! What about that?” Anya asked, somehow even more enthusiastic than before.

“Accident with a fishing hook,” he answered truthfully, looking down at the small crescent moon shape on the back of his hand. Seriously, that had been years ago. How was it still visible?

He was done chopping the cucumber, and passed it over to Anya to eat. “Is that all? Or do you want to interrogate me more about my scars?”

Anya looked decidedly less interested in it than before. Why? She seemed to like interesting things, and a fishing hook story seemed far more interesting than a watch, to him at least.

“Oh, I’d like to hear about just one more,” Yor said.

Loid spread his hands out palm up offering them to her. “Which one?”

She leaned in, hovering over them to examine. She gently took them into her own hands, tracing her fingers along a few scars, turning his hands over, before settling on the faint one on the pad of his thumb, tapping it. “What is the story behind this one?”

Those red eyes staring intently at him suddenly made it seem difficult to speak. “I was a child. I saw a rose, and wanted to pick it for my mother, but the thorn got me instead.”

Yor seemed content with that, and withdrew to steal cucumbers from and tease Anya some more.

Loid stared back down at it, gaze flitting from in between the scar to Yor. Yes, a rose may be beautiful and lovely, but its thorns made it dangerous to pick up. Yes, Yor may be beautiful and lovely and phenomenal in every way, deserving the world and love, but the Thorn Princess was more dangerous than it was worth.

Twilight closed his fist. As much as he might want to play house here with Yor and Anya, it was too dangerous. This was a mission, it would end. Maybe, if things went well enough, those two could somehow have a nice, happy normal life when this was all over, but he would have no place in it, he was now realizing after he had gotten attached to them already.

The cucumbers were a plot device to make Loid roll up his sleeves so that they could have that conversation about scars. Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! Please leave a comment! I love hearing what people think about my work (even if I'm not the best about replying)! First | Previous | Next

[xuxitheii]

HELLO!! I AM BACK!! sorry for literally disappearing off of the face of earth, guys (´△｀) life's been hard and school is quite literally stomping on me and i haven't the motivation these past months to write, but! i did get it today and decided to finish this piece that i've started since months ago — so! i apologize once more, but i am back now; don't be afraid to scream at me if you see me disappear again!! NOW THEN, psst psst @kazewhara zuzu!! this is the fakebedo fic that i've promised you, i hope you all enjoy it!!

　

subject two

- “thank you, for giving me the chance to live.”

warm, it’s so warm. alive. i am alive.

i don’t understand.

it was a simple curiosity at first, a fleeting thought that passed his mind as he observed. nothing more than a question among millions that his brain created in the midst of his observation — after all, for his ultimate goal, he needs to take everything into consideration. it’ll go away eventually, he thought.

(it does not)

day by day, as months passed and his plan’s creases were eventually smoothed over, the simple question never left his ever thinking mind.

why?

why are you different?

the answer is simple, of course, he’s not as blind as others are — you’re the real one’s lover. that is obvious; with all the kisses and touches the two of you share, it’s very damn obvious.

but why?

why does the simple fact that you are the real one’s lover bothers him so much? this shouldn’t be a hard thing to take in, all he has to do with you is the same with everyone else in the real one’s life. all he needs to do is take over his position and live as him. and that simple plan reaches you too, your status wouldn’t change anything in the plan — nothing would be different.

and yet, as he watches, the feelings continue to grow; this uncomfortable hollow pressure inside his chest. he detests it. it’s‒ it’s annoying! and for hours, he spends his oh so precious time researching this, this phenomenon. why? why? why? answers, he needs answers. drowned in books, scrolls, parchments — everything, just for the answer. but it was right under his nose all along.

envy.

it was envy, wasn’t it?

isn’t that why he’s doing all of this in the first place? because he envies the successful one? because he wants to take away everything that belongs to him? that’s right. that is the answer. and so what is the solution to this problem, you may ask? simple, all he needs to do is take you away, no?

and so it started.

“ah, albedo! why are you still here? didn’t you say you’ll be getting some materials for another one of your research?”

lovely, he thought.

“ah, yes, i was about to, but i forgot that i left something behind,” smooth, natural, just like how he practiced.

you laughed, your eyes formed little crescent moons, he noted, “i told you to check twice didn’t i?” there was no malice in your voice, not even annoyance, but there was fondness — you weren’t being serious then, he concluded, and with a lilt to his voice he replied, “yes, i am terribly sorry. i will heed your advice next time.”

a shake of your head and in the next second, you’ve closed off the distance between the two of you. your hand cupping one of his cheeks with a gentle touch and your lips connected with his smooth cheek, “be careful next time, my love.”

he wasn’t able to comprehend the drums inside his chest when he left that day.

it was nice, and a smile formed on his lips as he made his way back to his domain.

and that was the start of many, many more moments with you — what started as small moments, fleeting minutes that wouldn’t be seen as suspicious, turns to hours; where he spends his day pretending and enjoying every seconds with you with nothing but you in his mind (he had made sure the real one wouldn’t be back for sometime, after all). but soon, he starts being bolder, more confident in his actions. now, he spends days with you; days where he’s wrapped inside the cocoon of your ever growing love, your warmth, you. he enjoys every single nano second of it. every kiss, every touch, every word shared between the two of you — he savors it, every single one of it.

(oh, it was such a brilliant idea to take the real one’s attention away with his creations, his precious creations).

he loves it.

oh, oh, he understands now.

it’s no longer because of his envy — no, no, no, it’s all because of you now.

he loves you.

and with all the moments he had spent with you, surely, you must love him too, right?

　

“who are you?!”

huh? what’s this? why are you pointing your sword at him?

what’s happening?

“tell me! who are you?!”

his mind is erratic, his thoughts racing all over without him even being able to understand them and yet he smiled, lovingly, gently, just like what he had done these past months, “what are you talking about, my light? i am albedo, your lover.”

your gentle face turned into a scowl — no, you’re not supposed to look at him like that, you’re supposed to look at him with those eyes filled with love and adoration. you, you’re not supposed to look at him with such, such hatred in your eyes. you love him, right? please, you love me, right?

“no, you’re not! you’re not albedo! you are not my albedo!”

and at once, he can feel his eyes dampening.

“but‒ but i am yours, my dear, i am yours!”

“stop lying to me! i know you are not the albedo that i know! who are you?!” there’s tears running down your cheeks — no, no, this is not supposed to happen. no, please, don’t cry, my love, please.

a step.

“stay there! don’t you get close to me!”

another one.

“did you not hear what i said?! stay back!”

he stood right in front of you and yet, your hands holding onto the sword trembles.

he swallowed a choked gulp, the tears in his eyes fell onto the crystalline snow, his hands shakes; not because of the cold, no, “please,” his hand, ungloved, looking just like your albedo’s hand, that caress you with love, cupped your cheeks — you can feel them shakes against your wet cheeks, “please, my love, don’t cry, please,”

red.

your vision clouded with red.

cold, it’s cold. it happened in the span of a second — your screams ringing inside his ears, the melting snow seeping into his clothes, his skin touching the snow, the weight on top of him,

and the sword inches away from his neck — his unmarked neck.

“why?!”

his throat constricted, his lungs begging him for air; he can’t breathe, he can’t breathe — i can’t breathe, i can’t breathe, no, please,

“why did you lie to me?! what have i done to you?!”

you’re screaming, again, he noted, your voice hitched — as if you can’t scream at him and yet, you soldiers on. he noticed the way you’re gripping the hilt of your sword tightly, as if it was your life line.

“why did you pretend to be him?!”

he can’t take it anymore; he break,

“because i wanted to be him!”

your tears fell, and it landed on his cheeks; mixing with his own that hadn’t stopped streaming down his eyes.

“because i love you!”

and the world stilled — the cold no longer pricking at his skin, the birds no longer chirping, the water no longer moving; there was just you and him, chests heaving, throats constricting,  deep breathes and gasps, sobs and choked cries.

teeth gritted, eyes narrowing, tears ever flowing, he asked; with so much grieve, hope, pain, longing, “am i that hard to love?”

and the world resumed; with all of its harsh wind, freezing snow, rogue waves — and with that, your cries too.

he watches it all in slow motion; you raise your sword and descend it right towards him — his vision trained on your face all the while. he accepts it, he already knows — from the beginning, that you would despise him enough to kill him if you ever were to find out. he has been counting down the seconds, after all.

but you stopped — right before the tip of your sword could graze his eye, you stopped.

and you heaved, harsh inhales and exhales; your tears racing down your skin, dropping down to meet his own.

and you sobbed, weeped, cried right after you threw your sword away. in the snow, you’re crying in agonizing pain and your voice pierced through his fastly collapsing mind,

“leave!”

there’s a hollowness inside his chest.

“leave! i‒ i can’t kill you!”

ah,

“leave! don’t show your face in front of me ever again!”

he understands now.

you can’t kill him because of his appearance.

you can't kill him because he looks so similar to him.

“leave now!”

ah, he understands now.

what’s so special about you.

he finally understands.

“leave me!”

oh, it hurts,

it hurts so much,

it’s painful,

it hurts.

[thefanficmonster]

Let Them Talk

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female) ft. Sykkuno

Warnings: Swearing, Jealousy

Genre: Fluff, a bit of Angst

Summary: We can all agree Among Us is a fun game on its own but what makes it ten times better is playing it with the right company. Y/N could agree 100% Being a streamer herself, she loves playing with the streamer gang that includes her boyfriend and best friend. But, what happens when her boyfriend starts doubting her feelings for him due to her close relationship with her best friend.

Requested by @cheetoscat . Thank you so much for your request! Sorry it took so long to write, I hope the final product is worth the wait. Enjoy! Love, Vy ❤

Y/AU/N - Your Among Us Name

I settle in my gaming chair, adjusting my webcam one last time before joining the Among Us lobby with my friends. 

“Hi everyone!“ I say into the mic, a smile plastering itself on my face. Discord is a magical thing, man. It’s so easy to forget that the people you are talking to aren’t around you or within arm’s reach. You could be separated by miles and miles of land or - in our case - oceans as well. Distance becomes negligible when you hear your friends’ voices, their laughter; when you have a good time together despite being each behind a screen, often times alone.

Well, I’m one of those lucky ones that isn’t alone. No one knows that, though. Everyone thinks I’m a single, self-employed girl that’s straight out of college. And they are 90% right. Only thing is - I’m not single. That would be a shocker in and of itself, but revealing who’s changed my relationship status would be a bomb with a whole new intensity.

Speaking of my significant other who shall remain unnamed - just kidding, it’s Corpse - his form materializes in the doorway of my recording room. I give him a hand signal the camera isn’t able to capture, alerting him of the fact that my mic is on. He replies by blowing me a kiss and walking off down the hall to his recording room where he’ll be stationed for the next three or so hours.

I owe this relationship to my best friend Sykkuno. I’m a pretty new and not very well known on the platform, however, thanks to him I haven’t only obtained a boyfriend, but a following of a little over million subscribers as well. 

It all started with an invitation to fill a spot in the Among Us lobby him and his friends had created. It took him quite a bit to convince me to join, but I eventually caved and agreed. Suddenly, there I was. In a Discord call, in an Among Us lobby with some of the most well-known names on this platform. I’m talking YouTube legends. I was that puppy playing with the big dogs. The newbie tagging along with the big leagues. Or at least that’s how I felt until we all started vibing - talking and teasing each other as though we’ve known each other for years and not minutes.

When I joined the call, Corpse wasn’t present. After everyone else introduced themselves, Sykkuno informed me that we were waiting for Corpse to return. The name sounded really cool to me and I was genuinely very excited to meet this Corpse guy.

And then, out of the blue - no prep, no warning...

“Did you get someone to fill the spot? Oh- Hello, Y/AU/N.“ 

…he started talking and he had me star-struck. Apparently, he also had me a blabbering mess cause I remember blurting out: “Whoa, who’s this guy speaking in bold and underlined at the same time?”

The entire lobby, including Corpse, laughed. Sean, or Jack like they called him most often, answered my question, “That is the voice of God, Y/N. Its source is named Corpse, though.”

Heat spread from the bottom of my neck to the tips of my ears. I was mortified by my own stupidity. I was well aware they couldn’t see me and I was incredibly thankful for that, but I simply could not get myself to open my eyes. “I’m so sorry.” I said through nervous laughter.

“No, no, I like that description. Bold and underlined at the same time, huh?“ His voice sounded even more pleasant when it had that teasing, mischievous note to it. That thought popping up in my head only made things worse for my self-esteem and only made me more embarrassed, causing me to hide my face in my hands. “You sure it’s not in Italics as well?“ 

His question got a weak laugh out of me. “Nope, definitely not. Nothing Italic about it.“

Yes, I don’t even know how some terrible jokes about MS Word fonts got me as far as a romantic relationship, but they did! We’ve been living together for quite some time now, dating for even longer - hiding it just as long. It’s not that we have been actively trying to hide it or something, we just wanted to see how long it would take someone to become sus of us. When we realized no one would notice, we decided that if any rumors about us started, or even fans shipping us, we’d come clean. That hasn’t happened either, so we haven’t had the proper chance to address our relationship and neither of us minds.

At this point, I’m honestly afraid of revealing it to the gaming squad. Sykkuno especially. He’s my best friend, after all. I can see him being hurt by the fact that I kept a secret so big even from him. The last thing I wanna do is hurt my best friend but it’s already too late for that, it’s inevitable.

“Y/N have you looked at Twitter today?“ Rae, another streamer I’ve become close with over the months, says urgently.

Overlooking the tension in her words, I answer: “Nope, haven’t had the time. Why? What’s up?“

Before Rae can say anything else, Sykkuno joins the conversation, his voice somehow even more urgent than Rae’s. “It’s nothing, Y/N. If you see it, just don’t let it bother you, ok?”

Hearing such a tone from Rae isn’t unusual, but hearing it from Sykkuno is completely different and a lot more worrisome. “Well if it has the potential of bothering me it can’t be nothing. What’s going on?”

Just then, my phone dings with two notifications. I check to see they are messages from Rae.

“I sent you screenshots. Sorry, Sykkuno. She has to know in order to address it and defuse it as well. I know better than anyone how fast these rumors can spread, especially if no one reacts to them.“ She says, her tone barely apologetic at all.

I open the screenshots she has sent me and I find myself frozen in shock. Some old pictures of Sykkuno and I have been posted on Twitter by some random user. These pictures have started an entire thread of suspicions surrounding our relationship.

The pictures in question are from a New Year’s Eve party a mutual friend of ours held two years ago. Sure, in the pictures we are a lot closer than what would be considered a platonic proximity. And yes one of the pictures is of me kissing his cheek. Yes we were both a bit tipsy. I acknowledge all those things and yet none of them are concrete reasons for these rumors to have started piling. 

“This is silly.“ I finally say after maybe five minutes of silence on my end. ”This is absolutely ridiculous! And why are people so serious about it as well? Actual, important matters get discussed more nonchalantly than the potential relationship between two online personalities! What is this world we live in?“ I know I shouldn’t let these rumors get to me like this, especially not on camera. Still, I can’t help it. I feel it’s so unfair to Corpse. He has to put up with this as well and it’s by no means easy for him. I’ve been shipped with people from our group in the past and he always took those rumors to heart despite acting like he didn’t care. Neither of us should get worked up, but him getting upset about them creates a domino effect with my emotions - causing me to be hit just as hard as him, in some cases harder.

Rumors of the past aside, this one is the worst by far. Mostly cause even Corpse himself suspected something between Sykkuno and I at the very beginning, when we were still acquaintances, barely crossing into the realm of friends.

I pull up Twitter to look for the whole thread, barely sparing my stream chat a glance in the process. It seems pretty split - those who agree with me and those who think Sykkuno and I make ‘such an adorable couple’. The thread is ridiculously long, and if we take into account that it was only started approximately five hours ago, you can either view it as impressive, amusing or sad. Why sad? Because someone has dedicated so much time and effort into fueling the fire of a weakly supported theory.

I love Sykkuno with all my heart. Everyone knows that - fandom, streamer squad, Corpse and Sykkuno included. I love too much and too platonically to ever even dream of having a romantic connection with him. I thought that was more than obvious, but people are either blind here, or just grasping at straws. One thing’s for certain - they’re stepping on a nerve.

“Hey where’s Corpse? Did he disconnect?” Felix asks, gaining my full attention. My eyes dart to the monitor, searching through the little avatars in a desperate search for the one of my boyfriend. It’s nowhere to be found.

“He just messaged me saying his connection is unstable but he might join us later.“ Rae says, “You guys can invite someone to fill...“

“Bathroom break.“ I interrupt, not waiting for a response before shutting my mic off, putting the ‘BRB‘ graphic on my stream and yanking the headset off. I basically run down the hall to Corpse’s recording room, my heart pounding like a bass drum.

“Corpse?!“ I call out to him, one hand already on the doorknob. When five seconds pass by without a response, I barge in. 

Inside, I find his usual spot on the gaming chair empty and his slumped figure seated on his bed.

“Corpse?“ I try again, watching for even the tiniest change of body language. He remains still as a statue, not bothering to look up at me either. 

His hands are gripping the edge of the mattress, his head hanging low. His eyes are covered by the short curtain of his dark messy curls. I can’t gauge much. Is he angry? Is he sad? Both? How should I approach the situation?

Before I find the answer to any of those questions, I am kneeling in front of him, our height difference eliminated. I gently pry his hands off the mattress and take them in mine, holding them firmly but tenderly. With one hand I reach up to tilt his head so his eyes can meet mine. He complies, his tear-filled brown orbs meeting mine. Those tears have the same effect on me as fifty sharp knives stabbing into my chest. These tears focus their attack straight on my heart, tearing it to pieces.

“Baby....“

He cuts me off, “Why is it always someone else, huh? Do they deem me not worthy of being with you? Do they think you deserve better?” His voice wavers, “Well, they might be right. They are correct and there’s little I can do to prove them wrong. They mean you well, Y/N - pairing you with guys better than me. Those are some loyal fans you’ve got. They only want what’s best for you. And so do I. If ‘best’ is being with someone else then...”

It’s my turn to cut him off. I put an end to his nonsense ramble that’s slowly killing me by pressing my finger against his lips. The sternness of my gaze is beyond me as I get up and walk over to his computer setup. I put on his headset and hop into the call as well as the lobby with his avatar.

“Hey Corpse’s back!” Toast says, “Good to have you back buddy.”

“No, not Corpse.” I say in a casual, nonchalant voice.

“Wait, wha-“ Sean’s voice shows just how confused he is, representing the confusion of the entire lobby actually.

“I know all of you are streaming so this message will be heard by several different audiences so I’m gonna make myself perfectly clear.“ I take a deep breath, “Sykkuno and I aren’t dating. He’s a lovely guy and he deserves to find a girl who will treat him right. That girl isn’t and won’t be me though. I am already treating someone right. Someone who treats me more than right as well. An amazing person. A man-child with a heart of gold. You know him, to a certain extent. He goes by the name of Corpse Husband, but I prefer to call him ‘Love of my life’. Thank you for your time and attention, goodbye.“

I exit the call and turn around to find a stunned Copse looking at me.

“That was meant for you just as much.“ I say with a fake strict attitude, one hand on my hip the other rested on his desk behind me, “Were you listening?“

Within milliseconds, he’s on his feet standing directly in front of me, his lips inches away from mine. “I heard and memorized every word. But...” he pauses for a moment, “I think you have no idea how big of a chaos you just created.”

I smile mischievously, “We’ll worry about that later. For now...” I close the gap between us, connecting our lips in a sweet and passionate kiss. 

@susceptible-but-siriusexual  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @hacker-ghost  @itsminniekat  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze  @divine-artemis  @waterlilypat  @idontknowwhatthisisfam  @evi-ka  @classyandfabulous00  @redperson58  @lilysdaydreams  @the-fuck-up-of-today  @slashersdream  @chiefwombathoagiepizza  @solowheein @mythicalamphitrite  @axen-gers  @luckygirl144  @nj01

[ekaterinatepes]

Nothing but the Best

Author’s note: hello my dears! Sorry for not updating the past few days. I travel a lot for work and the circumstances lately made it difficult for me to update as much as I wanted. Although I did get enough inspiration to write this chapter. I come back to you with some juicy lemony goodness ;)

Minors DNI

Warning: NSFW content, mildly non con at the beginning, emotional sex, hurt, comfort and angst.

X.

Blinding jealousy was the only thing that could describe how Satoru felt. Boiling in his blood, licking flames of rage through his body.

Betrayal… his best friend, holding his wife’s hand as he walked her back home. Not only that! Suguru went in with YOU! In your apartment! As if this was the most normal thing in the world!

Did you invite him to stay the night? Did you both plan this ahead of time?

Warping to the top of the building next to yours he continued to watch from his position as you turned on the lights in your apartment. Setting your bag on the counter, taking off your shoes and jacket. Suguru followed you in taking off his shoes and walking into the kitchen after you.

Gojo saw you both laughing and talking like you always did. You were at ease, immersed in your own world… completely forgetting about Satoru.

Did the kiss from last night mean nothing to you?

“What the fuck is going on?!” He groaned removing his blindfold; now fully observing and analyzing every single detail of what you two were doing using his six eyes.

Gojo didn’t want to miss a thing.

He focused on you, your reactions, the way you smiled, the way you acted, your heartbeat, the tone of your voice and… that bright and warm halo of happiness surrounding you while in Suguru’s presence; the same halo that last night was cold for Satoru. All of your smiles, all of your warmth and kindness were dedicated to Suguru.

Satoru’s frayed nerves and chaotic mind debated wether he should warp there and steal you away (… of course then proceed to fuck your into oblivion, fill you with his cum to the brim until you knew there was no other man for you other than your husband) OR keep watching and see how far you would go.

As angry as he was right then, he had to remind himself that Suguru and you had always been very close. It wasn’t uncommon for Geto fo visit you and have dinner with you to keep you company whenever Satoru wasn’t around due to his work or even have dinner together all three of you. This wasn’t ‘abnormal’ per say. The difference was that NOW you ‘thought’ you were not Satoru’s anymore (the operational word being ‘thought’)Geto’s presence never bothered him before… until now.

Taking a deep breath Satoru saw you walking towards your bedroom. His hands trembled in anticipation.

Were you going to sleep with Suguru?

He walked along the edge of his rooftop following your movements inside until you stopped in front of your room. Suguru moved closer to you and Satoru almost snapped. Lifting his hand to use his cursed technic against his best friend he saw how you both hugged and after you placed a kiss on his cheek you bid him goodnight. You pulled back and Satoru sighed in relieve but then Suguru was the one that leaned in and kissed your lips. Satoru was as shocked as you were but you managed to recover faster than he did since you returned Suguru’s embrace for what felt like an eternity. Finally when you separated, Geto and you exchanged a couple words and after another hug he walked out of your room closing the door behind him.

Satoru’s eyes had been open like saucers while the exchange took place, he released a breath he didn’t know have been holding. He saw you turn around and touch your lips with a blush on your cheeks.

He lost his fucking mind right then.

-

After coming back home Suguru and you talked about the latest shows you were watching and the movies you wanted to watch so you could catch up. A couple jokes about your gory tastes in movies and series after and you were both ready to turn in for the day.

“So! You wanna do a ‘The Walking Dead’ marathon?” You asked with a smirk “sure doll, we can do that tomorrow. You have the morning free right?” Asked Suguru. Sunday mornings were your ‘me’ time since your instructor didn’t work on Sundays ���yes I do!” You answered with a big grin. You felt like a kid and the sensation filled you with happiness.

Now that Suguru was here you felt so different, as if you had been numb but now you could feel again.

A yawn cut your next sentence making Suguru chuckle “come on sleepy head, you and I are both whipped” you complied with a sleepy smile and walked down the hall.

Geto stopped in front of your room and gave you one of his characteristic big bear hugs. He was so tall and muscular, you felt surrounded by warmth and muscles everywhere. The fresh and crisp scent of his citrus cologne and detergent made your stomach do a little flip. The intimacy and trust you felt with him reminded you that you were not alone.

It had been easy to bury yourself physically and emotionally in your work but now that Suguru was with you, it reminded you that despite of how tough things got, you would always count on him.

Reluctantly you both pulled back, his Adam’s apple at eye level with you made you swallow. When you looked back into his eyes you found his trailing on your lips before they moved up to meet your e/c eyes.

There was a growing tension between the two of you, too strong and obvious to ignore.

Before, when you were with Satoru; Geto and you had ignored it but now there was nothing stopping either of you from acknowledging it. Sooner than anticipated your lips connected in a tender kiss. He was soft and kind, not demanding. He just wanted to comfort you but also let you know he wanted you, all in his sweet particular way.

You returned the kiss. It was inviting like a balm, it didn’t mean to mark and conquer but to soothe. His plump lips still tasted of wine. It made your mouth avid to taste more.

When you pulled away a blush covered your cheeks “good night Kitten” Suguru tells you with his deep baritone making a very pleasant tingling sensation run down your spine “good night Sugu” only then Geto leaves to go to his room across from yours.

The door closes behind you, all you can hear is your heart hammering away from within, you actually….enjoyed that kiss. It was so sweet, so tender… so soothing. Everything that Suguru was to you was poured in that single action. Touching your lips you start debating whether this was something good or something you should wait before pursuing.

Satoru didn’t sign your divorce, technically you were still married. Suguru didn’t deserve a half assed relationship with someone who doesn’t have her shit together.

You were still healing it was true, but… when Suguru kissed you, it made you feel safe…. Like you could let go and trust him.

Feeling guilty about it, you compared it to Satoru’s kiss from last night. It was impossible to deny there was still passion between you your husband and yourself. But then again physical intimacy was never the problem in your former relationship.

The thrill of the danger, of knowing nothing good would come out of it and despite it all your stubborn desire to immerse yourself in the ocean that was Gojo Satoru. Was what terrified you.

No… you couldn’t think about him that way. Not anymore.

With a sigh you decided it was time for bed. You turned around to head to the bathroom but your body connected with something hard and warm. Looking up you saw Satoru’s crystal blue eyes but before you could scream he covered your mouth with one hand while wrapping the other one around your waist. “Oh no no no no my love… none of that, we are not going to alert sweet Suguru about me, princess” the smirk that pulled at his lips made you shiver, it was predatory… maniac even.

Before your senses could register the change in the atmosphere you were warped away with Satoru. You screamed, but it was too late, you were not in your home anymore.

The lavish interiors of an elegant dim lit suite received you “what the fuck are you doing!?” You asked when he let you go, taking a step back breathing heavily “are you insane!?” You asked the white haired sorcerer who in answer only moved closer to you. The more you tried to get away the closer he got, until you were trapped between the wall and his towering 6’4 frame.

—

“Now princess…. Just what were you and Suguru doing?hmm?” He asked with a terrifying grin that poorly attempted to disguise his anger. Moving his hand to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Nothing of your concern!” You answered glaring at him, had he been spying on you? You tried to drop your body against the wall to escape from him but before you moved further than an inch down Satoru completely crushed your body with his “I am not done talking to you yet… my wife” he remarked making you ball your hands in fists. It annoyed and revolted you how he tried to use your ‘unfortunate’ marital status for leverage “I am your wife only on the paper… I don’t care what you think or say!” Satoru didn’t like your answer but his grin only broadened; grabbing your wrists and placing them on top of your head he held them with one of his large hands of dexterous fingers “you are right….” He started, giving you false hope “maybe it is time I remind you of your marital duties” your eyes opened wide but before you could attempt anything he kissed you. Fierce lips and teeth demanded your submission… this wasn’t a tender request… it was a display of dominance and possession.

You bit his lip trying to make him stop but Satoru took that as an invitation to grow bolder. His hand moved to your ‘V’ cut long sleeve top and ripped it right in the middle making you gasp; giving him the perfect opportunity to plunge his tongue in your mouth and intensify the kiss tenfold.

His free hand moved to your left breast squeezing the globe of warm flesh underneath. Groaning against your lips on approval, Satoru moved both his hands to your hips and using his inhuman strength he carried you across the room faster than you could tell and then threw you on the bed.

“Satoru… don’t do this! Are you mad?!” You asked in a trembling tone while scooting backwards on the bed in a miserable attempt at escaping him.

“Yes! I am! As a matter of fact… you are a good part of the reason why I am insane!” Grabbing one of your ankles he pulled you closer to him. Spreading your legs he laid on top of your body, giving you no chance to escape “SATORU STOP PLEASE!” You screamed but Satoru only focused on destroying the fabric of your jeans. He wanted all the obstacles between you to be gone! He wanted your clothes, your pain and Geto to be gone! So he could have you all to himself.

You tried to kick him but when you are struggling with the strongest jujutsu sorcerer of his generation there was absolutely nothing your body could accomplish without his approval.

A part of yourself hated the fact that you were just as revolted as aroused at the moment. Was that combination even possible? On one hand you felt dirty because your husband was trying to force himself on you out of jealousy…. But on the other part… the dark and twisted one… you were aroused by his display of pure male dominance, by his suffocating desire to have you and only you.

It was hard to fight so many years of habit, of fantastic chemistry… of love.

You would have to be blind or stupid not to see that your husband had been obsessing over you since you left but….

What good could come out of it?

If you both gave into your primal desires and fucked each other’s brains out. Would that change anything about your broken and unhealthy marriage?

His hot mouth moved to your neck to nibble and suck on that spot right bellow your earlobe that he loved to abuse. A big bruising mark was left in place, but he wasn’t content with just that. He wanted to leave the brand of his desire painted on your skin, like a beacon for him and a warning for others.

As the minutes went by his attentions became less frantic, instead they turned more purposeful and tender.

You stopped moving altogether, not fighting him nor corresponding his affections and careful treatment of your body.

https://youtu.be/qfFOzQVKuMs

Satoru pulled back for a moment to see you…. Only then it hit him like a train.

What the fuck was he doing? He looked at you and saw the tear trails that dried on your cheeks. Your top ripped in half displaying the soft skin of your breasts only covered by a bra.

“Y/N…” he whispered looking into your eyes. He caressed your cheek “I’m sorry… love” he mumbled trembling. “I’m so sorry…” a sob broke through his lips.

Did he…..? Did he…. almost forced you to have sex with him? How far had he gone in his endeavor to get you back by any means necessary? The notion that he almost…. Raped his wife made him sick.

He cried like a child. Wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face against your naked stomach; kneeling on the floor before the bed he crumbled to pieces. Repeating ‘I’m sorry’ over and over again. He was horrified with himself; he had done many questionable things in his life but this… took the cake. It made him a piece of shit! He didn’t deserve you! You were too good for someone as tainted as him. The dread that revelation brought made him cry harder.

He realized his obsession had been a result of the fear he was unwilling to admit having. The terror that made his insides coil. The absolute horror of losing yet another person he loved.

The fear of loosing you.

He had always been alone since he was a child. Satoru didn’t share much of his past with you but the few things you knew was that he had become an orphan at a very young age. He had to mature rapidly to overcome the obstacles of being a kid with so much power in the middle of a corrupt and outdated world of magic and intrigue.

Gojo always felt lonely, despite of how much he liked to mess around with people and play pranks on everyone. But you… had been one of the very few who got to see through his perfectly built facade and tell him the truth.

The night he told you he loved you was after you decided to stay with him in his apartment. He didn’t say or do anything particularly obvious but you somehow knew he didn’t want to be alone. He kept trying to fill the space with playful banter but you shut him up by hugging him and holding him tightly saying he didn’t have to explain anything all. That you would always be there for him, no matter what. It had been on the anniversary of the death of his parents.

Somehow, your empathetic and loving nature blindly guided you to stay with him and allow THE Gojo Satoru to be just…. human in your arms.

-

As much as you wanted to hate him and resent him, seeing him in such a vulnerable state made your heart ache for him. Unable to stop yourself you caressed his platinum locks while he held onto you and cried begging for your forgiveness over and over again.

When Satoru calmed down he removed his head from your lap slowly, you have been crying along with him. Your fates leaded you both exactly where you were at. Every decision and mistake carved this painful path you walked now.

Looking into your eyes he moved closer as if he was afraid to scare you away, his face stopped just an inch away from yours, giving you the chance to reject his advances but instead of doing that you closed the distance that separated you both. You lips met and melted together in a desperate kiss. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer, making him moan recognizing the intimate and passionate gesture he had missed for so long. He laid you back down again, climbing on top of you. His hands moving down to your waist in an attempt to feel you as close as possible, as if you were going to disappear in any moment.

Your legs wrapped around his waist when your tongues laced together and caressed each other; moans and sighs left your lips, filling Satoru’s ears and making his hands wander over the expanse of exposed skin.

Making him stand before you and between your legs his long sleeved black shirt was removed quickly, your admired his perfectly sculpted pale torso, this man has always been so… perfect; as if the gods themselves had decided to carve every inch of his person. Although, he did look skinnier, you knew he had not been really taking care of himself. The sight send a pang of pain to your heart. “Toru….” A little painful whisper abandoned your lips when you pulled him closer. Your mouth left a small path of kisses from his neck to the center of his chest, he gasped at the sweet and soothing action. Once more, your tenderness reminded him that he did not deserve you and yet he couldn’t come to make himself stop you. He needed you more than air to live.

Avid hands moved south of his stomach to undo his jeans and pull them down; a very vague part of your brain registered that you were now willingly doing this. Should you stop? Next to go were his boxers. He was standing naked in front of you.

His hardened cock stood between his legs with a small dribble of precum rolling down the reddened head.

He was an Adonis.

Looking into his eyes you saw the loving gaze laced with guilt in his cerulean orbs. You couldn’t stop, you didn’t want to.

He then helped you lay down to return the favor. His mouth kissed its way to the center of your breasts while his right hand undid your bra behind. Taking off the remains of your destroyed top along with your bra, next were the flimsy black lace panties that he rolled down your legs until you were fully naked before his eyes.

He was left speechless “you are so beautiful…” a goddess laid naked on his bed, with her inviting lips, glorious s/c skin, a halo of darker h/c hair around your head, perfect breasts and a pair of delectably shaped legs that he wanted wrapped around him.

How did he ever dare cheat on you? Not only your body was beautiful to him but your heart, you knew no boundaries when it came down to loving someone. You had given him everything and then some.

Kneeling before you he grabbed one of your legs and left kisses from the calf to the inner thigh. Placing it carefully over his shoulder he stopped for a moment to look in your eyes before his mouth delved between your thighs. He found your sweet pussy already wet and waiting for him to lavish his attentions. Like a starved man he licked your pussy, consuming everything you had to offer him. Your flavor coating his tongue made his stomach tight in delight, he recognized the addictive sweetness of your scent. Parting your lips with his tongue he penetrated your entrance with his tongue, going straight to the source. You screamed and he had to hold your hips so you wouldn’t pull away. He couldn’t let you go! Not now! Not ever!

Once he was satisfied he replaced his tongue with his fingers, pumping two digits in and out of your soaking entrance. His tongue looked for your clit and swirled around it, sucking at times and flicking at others. His reward were your screams, moans and sighs of pleasure. They were only for him and no one else.

“T… Toru… I’m gonna come”

“Come for me princess, give me all of you my love” Satoru asked quickly before his mouth returned to your slit and his thumb took care of the bundle of nerves at the top.

You screamed, arching your back when your orgasm washed over your body and completely overwhelmed your senses. Taking his time to taste and swallow your juices Satoru finally emerged from between your legs. Your eyes darkened with a desired that matched his.

Your arms inviting him to come closer encouraged him to lay on top of you after wiping his chin with his hands. Long legs surrounded his waist while you looked in each other’s eyes. “I love you…” he said at the same time he slid his cock inside you, slowly until he was fully sheathed and his balls slapped your ass, making you scream his name.

Satoru was not a small man by any means, taking all of his impressive length at once would have been impossible had he not prepared you beforehand. He knew it, so he moved slowly at the beginning, allowing you some time to adjust while he whispered sweet nothings on your ear.

The moment your legs pulled him closer and deeper he knew you were ready. Without a word he rocked his hips, retracting all the way until only the tip was left inside before he went all the way back in making you body jolt.

The rhythm was slow and purposeful at the beginning but as the minutes went by, the both of you became hungrier, more demanding, more… needy. Your hips met his thrust by thrust. The slapping of your skins intensified as did the moans.

Your tight and hot walls squeezed his cock so deliciously the man was having a tough time not behaving like an animal and rutting you through the mattress like a beast in heat. He wanted to show you he loved you.

He held both your hands in his, pushing them against the bed at both sides of your head. Looking into your eyes he moved deeper “I love you…” he said again and you couldn’t help but feel how the tears escaped your eyes “I love you too…” you admitted in a tiny voice that could barely be considered a whisper.

Satoru eliminated the distance between you both and kissed you, pouring his heart in that action. Your climax was close, he knew this so he angled his hips to continue pummeling your sweet spot while he drove you over the edge.

You came around his thick cock, your walls tightening around his member as if they never wanted go let go “I’m gonna come princess” he moaned and then with a few hard thrusts he spilled himself inside you, painting your walls with his cum.

Your worn out, sweaty bodies stayed still. Trying to recover. Satoru refused to remove himself from inside you.. Not yet, he wanted to savor this moment, the intimacy and the love he felt.

You didn’t protest, instead you did what you used to do back when you both were still together. Cradling his head between your breasts you stroked his hair, lulling you both to sleep.

Your last coherent though before sleep claimed you being… That once again… you fell for it.

Guilt settled in.

————-> Chapter 11

-

Tags:

@sleepyamaya

@cloudsinthecosmos

@jxvajxy

@satoruhooraaa

@my-reality-is-in-my-head

@dok-ja

@jscarlet06

@fiona782

@thatsharklovingwoman

@heichoustheoryofcleanliness

@syynnaaah

@shaylove418

@coldvillainess

@vampgguk

@sukuna1stwife

@tampon-earrings

[littlepadika]

Calling Home (1) | Frankie Morales x Reader

Summary: You are a receptionist at the VA. Frankie Morales keeps calling. Yearning ensues...

Rating: M -> E in later chapters

Warnings: fem!reader, age gap (legal), praise kink, voice kink, discussion of addiction/PTSD/trauma, no use of y/n, no beta reader, reader is bad at Spanish, Frankie has a sexy voice 😩

Masterlist here

AN: My first fic. Pedro writers have inspired me to finally start writing again 🥺. Concept inspired by the movie RED. I hope you like it ❤️Set after triple frontier.

Chapter One

~~~~~~~~~~~

The first time he called was an ordinary Thursday.

“Veterans Affairs, how can I help you?”

You had been working at the VA office for about two weeks. Fresh out of college you felt lucky to have a job in the first place. You went to school to be a writer but your big idea for 'The Next Great American Novel' had yet to present itself. At least here you had access to the most inspiring stories and interesting people. Men and women who had seen more and done more than you probably would in your entire life. You loved talking to clients on the phone. It was weird but something about only being able to hear people’s voices excited you. You would sometimes write little stories in your head about the people you'd talk to, filling in the details that were unknown.

Your desk accessories reflected your love of books and writing. You had your growing collection of books sitting on your desk sandwiched between baby pink bookends. Next to them was a matching desk organizer filled with your favorite sparkly pens and sticky notes. You had decorated the plain cubicle walls with posters of quotes from your favorite books. You also brought your favorite candle from home. Even though you couldn’t light it you still liked to lift it to your nose once and a while and smell it between chapters. When you weren’t on the phone or scanning documents you would read. You finished To Kill A Mockingbird in your first week on the job and were now halfway through Murder on the Orient Express.

You were starting a new chapter when Frankie Morales called the first time.

You picked up the phone on the second ring already mustering your chipper 'customer service' voice. “Veterans affairs.” You stated your name. “How may I help you?”

“H-Hi. My name is Frankie- uh-Francisco Morales." A deep voice answered you. "I’m calling because I have gotten my benefits check yet. It’s been a month. I was hoping you could tell me if it got sent?”

“Okay Mr. Morales." You flipped on the computer. "Let me check. Can you spell your last name for me?”

“M-o-r-a-l-e-s”

“Okay... let's see.” You clicked on his account. You were momentarily distracted by his picture likely taken when he graduated basic if you had to guess based off the uniform. He looked sweet. Sharp nose and strong jaw balanced by kind eyes and a shy smile. You could imagine how age would continue to soften his expression making him even more handsome. The image was a strange juxtaposition to the voice you were hearing on the phone which was much deeper and rougher. His profile said he was special forces. A pilot. The rest of the information was blacked out. Something you were used to seeing on many people's accounts but even his years of service were redacted. He must have been involved in some dangerous stuff, you thought to yourself. The dates that were not redacted were mostly in Latin America. You clicked over to processing requests. “Looks like the check got sent one week ago.” You informed him.

"I'll look again but I haven't seen anything-" It sounded like he was apologizing when clearly it was not his fault.

"No no. It's probably a mistake on our end." You interrupted. With how shitty and outdated the payroll interface was you wouldn't be surprised if there was a mix up. "I’ll go ahead and let payroll know to send another."

"Great. Thanks." He replied sounding relieved. The roughness in his voice gave way to a smooth baritone.

“No problem. I'm sorry for any inconvenience it may have caused. We'll get it sent right away." You hoped he was not relying on this benefit check for anything important. While you could promise you'd fix the problem, the administration was notoriously slow. When he didn't respond you asked, "Is there anything else I can help you with today, Mr. Morales?”

“Uh-no" The roughness back in place. "Thank you." He paused before adding your name onto his thank you which made you smile. People usually never remembered your name.

“Alright. Have a nice day and thank you for your service.” You chirped before hanging up. The smile he put on your face lingered for a few minutes as you returned to your book.

The next time he called was exactly twelve days later.

“Veterans affairs” you answered, your routine greeting cut short as your eyes were still on your book.

“Hi- I’m calling because uh I still haven’t gotten my benefits check. This is Frankie Morales.”

“Oh Mr. Morales.” You recognized his voice even before he even said his name. You quickly shut your book, pushing your hair out of your face. Had you been thinking about him? No! Okay maybe you stared at his picture for a few minutes longer after he hung up. Yes, it was probably very unprofessional but you couldn't fight the curiosity. You were trying to rationalize the contrasting sharpness and softness of his features with his voice. How it all worked together. How one person's voice could change textures and colors so easily. You wondered what kind of things this man might have seen on the job. Most of the veterans you would help day to day did not have so many redacted missions and deployments. You were in the middle of Narcos season one so you immediately thought of drugs or something equally dangerous. After much pondering, you had come to the conclusion that Frankie Morales was both insanely attractive and insanely courageous. “Still no check, huh?”

“Nope.” He sighed the sound making the phone's shitty speaker crackle as you held it to your ear.

“Let me just check that it was approved...“ you found his profile again and scrolled to the status page. “Hmm... it says it was sent out last Friday after we spoke. That’s so weird...”

“Yeah. Really weird.” He echoed your frustration on the other end.

Typical payroll, you thought to yourself as you rolled your eyes. “I'll get another one sent to you right away. I'll see to it myself.” You tucked the phone under your chin and typed out a short email to Mary in payroll letting her know you'd be stopping by her office to explain the situation. You realized he hadn't hung up yet.

“Sorry for the back and forth.” You said, trying to fill the silence.

“It’s not your fault." The earlier irritation gone. "You’ve been really helpful.” His voice sounded warm and reassuring. Less gruff than it was last you spoke. Instead it was that rich baritone that you caught of glimpse of last time.

You feel your face warm at his compliment. It was this annoying reflex you had. Praise always made you blush no matter what context but it was worse when it came from a (you assume) gorgeous stranger.

“And just to verify that your address is correct- you’re on Maple Lane in Miami, Florida?”

“That’s right.” He confirmed.

“Okay. Sent!” You clicked send on the email, which caused the window to close and reveal Frankie’s profile page again. “I was curious-" You spoke before you really made the decision to speak. You didn’t want to overstep but once again your curiosity got the better of you. Honestly, you were just searching for a way to keep him on the phone. The day had been so boring.

“Your profile says you were stationed in Costa Rica.”

“For a bit.” He replied after a moment. He didn’t sound too defensive but there was definitely some tightness in his answer that made you feel bad for asking. Like you were scratching a wound.

“Did you like it? The country I mean.”

“Are you planning a trip?” He sounds a little amused.

“Yeah- well- kind of. It's more a trip in my head right now. I’d like to go there one day. It looks so beautiful.” You sighed closing your eyes trying to imagine the heat on your skin.

“It is." He agrees. "Really humid though.”

“Mm that sounds nice.” You would kill for some warm weather after such a long winter in DC.

“It was too muggy for me at times." He grumbled. "If you do go, stick to the costal areas where it’s more breezy or else you’ll just be sweating the whole time.”

“I don’t mind a little sweat” you shrugged, still thinking of the awful east coast winter you were currently suffering through. The sexual connotation of what you said hit you hard as soon as you heard the statement in its entirety. You felt your face flush again, though the man on the other end would never know.

“I’m learning Spanish!" You announced loudly trying to move the conversation past your awkwardness.

“Wow. Muy impressivo.”

“Si” you replied but after a moment you admit “I don’t really know what you said.”

Frankie laughed loudly on the other end and you couldn’t help but join in, drawing dirty looks from the elderly lady, Donna, working in the cubicle across from you. You ducked your head behind a stack of papers to avoid her glare.

“Fake it till you make it.” He chuckled.

“Maybe you should help me out.” You took on an indigent but still playful tone. “You sound better than duolingo” Your smile widened when he laughed again. His laugh was what you hoped it would be, by all your assumptions from his picture. It was an unencumbered, unburdened, rich sound with only a hit of roughness from the air behind it.

“Tell me you’re not using that dumb app to learn.” he scoffed, saying your name in an almost scolding tone.

“I’m got my thirty day streak today.” You boasted.

“You’ll be a total tourist if you go by duolingo.”

“But the owl is so cute every time I get something right!” You argued your voice taking on a more childish cadence.

“That’s how they trap you, silly girl.” He teased right back. Usually such a condescending nickname would piss you off but something about the affection behind him using it made you feel very differently. You felt warm like you were proud to be silly as long as it made him laugh.

“Then you saved me just in time, Mr. Morales.” You bit your lip. His scoffing and laughter died down on the other end.

“Frankie” He corrects you.

“Frankie…” You repeated it, smiling at how well the nick name suited the voice over the phone. Honest, sincere, and not pretentious at all. Way better than the pompous guys you know with equally stuffy names like “Edward” and “Christopher.”

“So what do you want to know?” Frankie interrupted your thoughts. “Dime”

You started asking him questions in Spanish to the best of your ability. Granted they weren't particularly probing questions. What is your name? What is your favorite color? What is your favorite animal? What's your favorite book? I am reading Gone Girl. He answered them all with patience and amusement, occasionally interrupting you to correct your pronunciation or explain what a word meant. Every time you’d repeat the word back correctly he would say something like “good” or “there you go” or “you got it”. You hated to admit that his kind words and his praise was doing something to you. You didn't even realize you were clenching your legs together unconsciously, almost in anticipation of his next correction or next answer. His low voice so sweet and encouraging against your ear, more tangible when he was speaking Spanish. You just wanted to hear more of it. Would it be this sweet in other situations? Would it get huskier or rougher? If you closed your eyes it was like he was sitting right next to you. It would be all too easy to slip into that daydream and escape the dull office.

Suddenly out of the corner of your drooping eyes you saw a flashing red light on the phone console meaning another caller was waiting.

“Shoot- i’m sorry, Frankie- I have to take this call.” You shot forward in your chair, legs uncrossing.

“Of-Of course. I should let you get back to work.” He sounded a little sad or so you hoped. You felt bad for interrupting him after you both were having so much fun. You wanted to say he could wait on hold but he killed that idea when he said, "I have work too. Technically I'm five minutes past my lunch break."

Your pout turned to a smile. He was spending his precious lunch break with you? Get a grip! you snapped at yourself.

“You’re welcome to call again if you want.” You threw out the offer in a small voice, scared you would be rejected. You peered over the cubicle wall to see if you were still being glared at. Thankfully Donna was away from her desk. Probably out for a smoke. “It’s really boring here and usually no one calls.”

“Maybe I will.” He replied and you could hear the smile behind those words. You felt your heart clench weirdly in your chest like it didn't know how to process the sudden spike in emotions.

“Bye, Frankie.” You beamed.

“Bye”

This time the smile on your face lasted for hours. Frankie’s laugh echoed around in your head, taunting you, sending your mind to the gutter. His voice went from grit to molasses on a dime. You wanted to be the one to bring out those sounds. You wanted to hear his voice bend and stretch and strain as you fucked him. What the hell is wrong with me? you screamed internally. You had never been so depraved and with a stranger no less! You clearly needed to get laid fast because this much yearning would not end well.

Frankie got the second VA check a few days later and this time he didn’t even feel bad about ripping it in half. He was already reaching for the phone to call you.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Tags: Message to be added 💕 no minors please!

[queenshelby]

My Friend’s Father (Part One of Three)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Smut

Words: 2,528

Notes: Alright, no judgment. This was a dream of mine and I felt like I had to write it down. Everyone in this Fic is over the age of 18 and this Fic is in no way based on Cillian’s real family life. It’s pure filth.

 *************************

You inhaled the calming aroma of your tea as you looked out into the familiar back yard while your friend Denise puttered around in the kitchen as she made you a snack.

Her mother, Laura, had recently moved out of the house and you came to visit her for the first time since, wanting to give her and her parents some time to adjust before intruding.

Denise was the same age as you and had recently started her university degree at Trinity College. You, on the other hand, attended a different university in Galway which is where you had moved to six months ago with your parents.

For a long time, you and your parents lived across the road from Denise and her parents. You both attended high school together and had become best friends.

Now, your old house was occupied by a new family with their two adorable little children and, whilst they seemed nice, Denise felt somewhat lonely not having a friend live nearby.

Denise had a brother named Liam who was 23 and still lived at home as well. He was only two years older than you and Denise and had always liked you quite a lot.

You, on the other hand, were never really interested in him and when, one night, he kissed you, you stayed away from Denise’s house for a few weeks to avoid the awkwardness.

‘He’s been working out’ you observed as you watched Liam mow the lawns outside. The buzz of the lawn mower got louder as he finished the front and methodically mowed his way around back.

‘Yes, he has been ever since he knew that you would be staying with us for the long weekend’ Denise laughed but you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

‘Honestly, I would still prefer watching your dad mowing the lawns Denise, especially if he was shirtless and all sweaty’ you teased, knowing that your comment would get under her skin just as much as her comment about her brother got under yours.

‘Oh god, you are disgusting’ Denise said while her face evidentially turned green.

‘What? Your dad is hot’ you said before asking her where he was.

‘In Manchester, filming the last season of Peaky Blinders. He will be back tonight, unfortunately’ Denise said, enjoying to have the house for herself instead.

‘Oh, so he’s got the haircut?’ you asked somewhat excited, causing your friend to roll her eyes.

‘Yes, the infamous haircut’ she chuckled before you told her again that you thought that her father was quite attractive.

‘I know you have been saying that for years. Yet, it’s still weird and grosses me out’ Denise sighed before reminding you that you have boyfriend who would not appreciate you talking about other men like this.

‘We broke up two weeks ago. He was getting a little too possessive’ you explained before you described your two-month relationship to your friend.

‘Well, sounds like you dodged a bullet there’ Denise said, repeating the age-old break-up response and you nodded, thankful that your friend was there to cheer you up, but still feeling wounded by the whole ordeal.

‘Let’s not hit on my dad though, alright?’ she then laughed and you nodded again in agreement before Denise showed you the guestroom in which you would be staying.

***

At around 9 o’clock the front door of the house opened and you watched Denise and Liam get up to greet their father who had just arrived back home after having been away for three weeks’ straight.

‘I am glad to see that you haven’t trashed the house’ he chuckled and you quickly poked your head into the corridor to say hello.

‘Hey Mr Murphy’ you said with a wide smile when you saw him. He looked incredible, as usual.

‘Jesus, Y/N can you please start calling me Cillian’ he reminded you before greeting you and asking you how you liked Galway. You had known him for a while and he had told you on many occasions that the term ‘Mr Murphy’ made him feel rather old.

After some small talk, you and Denise returned to the living room to give him some time to tune down after having been away.

The two of you curled up on the couch in the living room with popcorn and a cheesy movie, just like old times and, at around 11 o’clock, you both decided that it was time for bed.

After getting changed into your somewhat revealing satin pyjamas, you tippy toed across the hallway into the main bathroom in order to brush your teeth when, suddenly, the bathroom door opened and Cillian stood in front of you with nothing but a white towel wrapped around him.

‘Uhm, I am sorry Mr Murphy…uhm Cillian’ you said with embarrassment, realising that you had almost barged into him but he didn’t seem bothered at all.

‘Don’t worry Y/N, it’s alright. Have a good night’ he said, getting out of the way and you stumbled into the bathroom.

Without closing the door, you starred at him walking down the hallway. How on earth could a man his age look so incredibly good you wondered as your eyes took in his toned body.

When he eventually disappeared into his bedroom and you closed the bathroom door behind you, all you could smell was the scent of the soap he had used mixed with a hint of his aftershave.

You know you shouldn’t think about your friend’s father this way, but you also couldn’t help yourself. After all, you knew that you were one of many women who were attracted to him.

***

When you finally went to bed, you felt a familiar tingle between your legs as you thought about Cillian in the shower. The image didn’t leave your mind and you wondered what he would look like without the towel wrapped around him.

With this attractive man on your mind, you slowly slid your fingers down into your panties and began to relieve yourself of the tension that had built up there.

You knew that the master bedroom was right next to yours and the thought of this turned you on even more. You knew he would be lying there, on his bed, possibly half naked.

Both windows were open and he did, indeed, lie there, on his bed, reading a book which is when he heard it, your soft moans and whimpers.

He couldn’t help but swallow harshly, knowing what you were doing right there with only a thin wall between you.

But the thought that he may be able to hear you didn’t stop you as you rubbed little circles around your tingling clit a bit faster until, finally, with one loud moan, you climaxed.

Just as you did, Cillian’s manhood stirred but he wasn’t willing to give in. He had too much self-control and his mind tried hard to focus on the book in his hands rather than the sounds you were making. You were his daughter’s friend and, whilst you were almost 22, this was highly inappropriate.

****

The next morning Cillian jolted awake when the alarm clock on his phone went off and he realised that he had forgotten to turn off the alarm when he returned home after being away filming.

It was only 7 o’clock but, since he was awake now, he climbed out of bed anyway and shuffled his way to his bedroom door. He made his way to the bathroom and shut the door behind him. He turned on the light and the shower water in one long movement.

After he got out of the shower and back into his shorts and a t-shirt, he wobbled out of the steamy bathroom into the kitchen where he smelled something burn.

Then, all of a sudden, he froze as he watched you standing there, flipping a pancake with precision on the stove without the use of utensils. You were unaware of his presence and he could even hear the song you were listening to on your phone.

You moved to the beat and Cillian was awestruck. After what he heard you do last night in the guestroom, his jaw dropped a few centimetres every time you rocked with the backbeat of the song.

You were wearing the same night shorts and spaghetti strap shirt you wore the night before but in the light of the sun you noticed your shorts were somewhat see through and your shirt was silk that didn't cover your breasts completely.

Eventually, you noticed something out of the corner of your eye. A statue you hadn't noticed before? No, it was Cillian standing in the dining room, his mouth hanging slightly and his eyes glued to the scene before him. You paused and began to turn to the frozen figure that was still in your peripheral vision.

You yanked on the string connected to your ears expertly and one of your earphones popped out of place. Then you smiled at the shock on Cillian’s face but didn't stop moving to the song playing in your head. Cillian forced his mouth closed when he made eye contact.

‘Good morning Cillian’ you said softly. He gulped and nodded quickly before moving to where the coffee machine was standing and turning it on.

‘Good morning’ he then replied before offering you a coffee which you gladly accepted, causing Cillian to move over to the stove to reach for two cups.

You didn't move to make it easier for him to reach above the stove to the cups. Instead, you made him stretch his body over you.

You watched him as he did and you saw him trying not to look at you. He failed miserably.

‘Do you want pancakes?’ you then asked with a warm smile and Cillian nodded.

‘That would be amazing, thanks’ he stammered as he was preparing the coffees.

‘Do you like blueberries?’ you then asked, still swaying to the music on your phone and Cillian nodded again but didn't realise that you were pouring pancake mix in the pan and couldn't see his response. After a moment you looked over to him.

‘Do you like blueberries?’ you asked again quietly and Cillian smiled and nodded again.

‘Yeah, I like ...’ he cleared his throat before adding the word ‘blueberries’.

He rolled his eyes at his response when you turned back around but you simply smiled and walked him over a stack of blueberry pancakes and a bottle of maple syrup.

‘There you go’ you said as you put the plate in front of him and felt his eyes follow you when you turned around and back to the stove.

A few minutes later you dumped one last pancake on a third plate and put the plate in the microwave. You took your plate and cup of coffee and went to sit by Cillian where his food was barely touched.

‘Not hungry?’ you asked as you began to eat.

‘It’s early’ he responded, still trying hard not to stare at your cleavage.

Eventually though, you both ate in silence, a silence you loved and Cillian hated.

He couldn't think of a single joke the entire time you both sat there and you just smirked every time he grunted instead of speaking.

Soon you could hear Denise walk through the living room and this was Cillian hurried up and ate the last bit of his pancakes before excusing himself.

***

‘Wow, you actually got him to eat in the morning. That’s something’ Denise joked as she walked into the kitchen and saw that her father had eaten some of the pancakes you had prepared.

‘Where did he go?’ you then asked, knowing that he had excused himself without any further explanation.

‘Down to the basement, listening to some music I would say’ Denise said as she dug into the pancakes, enjoying them quite a lot.

‘Talking of music, do you have an iPhone charger? My phone is almost out of charge’ you asked, looking at the battery on your phone.

‘No, I’ve got a Samsung. Dad has iPhone though. Go downstairs and ask him’ Denise then suggested and you nodded before making your way down towards the basement.

***

You walked down to the basement and knocked before opening the door slowly as you didn’t hear Cillian answer you.

You didn’t want to intrude on his privacy but, to your surprise, when you did open the door, you saw more than you had bargained for.

Cillian was sitting in front of his computer and it was quite obvious to you what he was watching.

You could see most of the screen from the angle at which you were standing as well as his hardening cock in his hand. He reached over and squirted some lotion onto his palm, lubricating his whole shaft before beginning to stroke with soft squelching sounds.

You wondered whether you should say something or whether you should just turn around and leave. But, you did neither and, instead, you watched as you were getting more and more turned on.

He fast forwarded and jumped around through different videos, his thick cock towering over his fist at the bottom of every stroke. You could feel that you were getting wet, but starting to cramp a little in your unchanged position after so long. There was something deliciously naughty about watching him in secret.

After ten minutes Cillian settled on a video of a young lady who had remarkably familiar features. Her hair was about the same length and colour as yours and her skin tone and build were strikingly similar.

You started breathing more heavily and pressed your legs together to deal with the tingling sensation in your core. You enjoyed watching the porn actress's performance while Cillian’s heavy, throbbing shaft disappeared under his fist faster and faster. His cock was beautiful and you wanted to walk into the room so badly and replace his hand with yours.

Eventually, you could see Cillian’s abs begin to twitch and tighten as he got closer to his high as he continued to stroke his shaft.

‘Fuck’ he groaned as he started to cum, pumping jet after jet of stickiness back towards his chest, causing you to gulp.

But you knew what you had to do. You couldn’t walk in now, it would be too awkward.

Just after you watched Cillian clean himself up, you quickly tippy toed back upstairs which is where Denise was waiting for you.

‘Did you get dad’s charger?’ she asked but you simply shook your head.

‘Uhm, he didn’t have one…left it in Manchester I think’ you said with flushed cheeks.

‘Are you okay Y/N? You look a bit hot?’

‘Uhm…yes…fine…thanks’ you stammered out before telling Denise that you would go and have a shower.

 Tag List:

@lilymurphy03@deefigs @theflamecrystal @desperate-and-broken @weepingstudentfishhorse @livinginfantaxy @rosey1981 @atomicsoulcollecto @peakyboyslover @nerdy4itall@elenavampire21 @hanster1998@mariapaiva13 @fairypitou @harry-is-your-sunflower @zozeebo @lauren-raines-x @kasaikawa @littlewierdalien @sad-huffle-nerd @theflamecrystal @peakymalfoyscullymulder @themissthang@0ghostwriter0 @stylescanbeatmyback @1-800-peakyblinders @datewithgianni @momoneymolife @ntmynouis @lilymurphy03 @mcntsee@cloudofdisney@missymurphy1985 @peakymalfoyscullymulder @otterly-fey @janelongxox @uchihacumdump @basiclassy @being-worthy @chaotic-bean-of-smolness @margoo0 @chocolatehalo @vhscillian @ysmmsy @littlewierdalien @crazymar15  @stickyknightflowerbailiff @im-constantly-fangirling @goldensunflowe-r  @tellingyouastory  @captivatedbycillianmurphy​  @namelesslosers​  @littlewhiterose​  @ttzamara​  @ttzamara @cilleveryone  ​

@peaky-cillian​

@severewobblerlightdragon​  @ysmmsy​  

[mypimpademia]

could you please write a lil somethin for bakugoxreader where the reader has amnesia and doesn’t remember their relationship 😳✋

hella angst or angst to fluff pls 😌

Again.

Bakugo x reader

TW: Swearing, head trauma (head injury) mentions, amnesia (duh)

Note: was your goal to make me sad anon?🥲

The ending is hot garbage, I cant end stories to save my life, but I hope you like the rest of it chile🧍🏾‍♀️

Taglist: @myhoodacademia @katsuflossy @iiminibattlehero @ecao @nnnoya @hawklmaoo @strawberry-ice @mixfi @wolfkid22 @mythiccheroacademia @myfandemons @lilsparkyswife @her-majesty-kiara @mindofess @kqtsukisgf @1-800-s1mping @angiebug101 @mads-fairy @solar3lunar

That day wasn't supposed to go the way it did. This whole week wasn't supposed to go the way it did.

Katsuki always felt that him with his hero status was a burden to you, and your relationship.

But a burden in a way where he felt it wasn't good that he was always away, that he'd always come home late and dinner would be cold, that you often sat alone waiting for him and sometimes he wouldn't come back for a full day or even more.

But not a burden in this way.

You've been in a coma for the past 5 days after a villain attack where they targeted you and Katsuki specifically.

They wouldn't let him into your hospital room because you weren't up yet to say he could come in.

So he spent his days and nights sleepless, worrying about you and coming back to the hospital three times a day and calling constantly to see if you were awake yet.

Now, it was day 6, and Katsuki was on his second visit, one for the afternoon.

"Ground Zero, they're awake-" A nurse said, getting cut off as Katsuki ran past them and started towards your room.

"Hey— Wait! There's something you should know!" She called after him, but he wasn't listening.

He practically flung open the door to your hospital room, but not aggressively because he didn't want to scare you.

"Y/n—!!" He sobbed.

Katsuki was at your side in an instant, on his knees, and trapping your hands between his, a silent promise to himself to never let you go again.

But he couldn't look at you. He felt pathetic for not being able to protect the only person he loves more than anything, and now he was on the ground sobbing. How could he look at you?

"I..." You started timidly.

Katsuki didn't look up, but he was listening closely.

"I'm sorry but..."

"Who are you?"

Katsuki swears he's never felt so much pain in his life, and he's been punched by fucking All Might.

He felt like every inch of his body had just been impaled. And if hearts could really rip in two, his would be in thousands.

'That's a joke. They have to be joking.' He told himself.

Katsuki using every bit of strength in him to look up at you, and the look he saw on your face left every part of him in shreds.

You looked confused, and scared. And of him.

You moved your hands lightly, freeing them enough to pull them out of his.

"Ground Zero... They have amnesia." The nurse said.

"Okay but, y-you remember me right? You at least remember us?" He asked you, desperate and pleading to who or whatever that you'd say yes.

But you just shook your head and drew back from him more.

Katsuki felt all life flush out of him in that moment.

What the hell was he supposed to do with himself now? You were the one thing that kept him grounded, and now you don't even know him.

"Excuse me, can we have a second?" You asked the nurse.

She nodded, and excused herself from the room with a bow.

"I don't remember who you are, and I'm sorry." You said sincerely.

"But I can tell you were- or are, important to me. And if it's possible, I wanna start wherever my life left off, maybe even start again if I have to." You said.

Katsuki found a slight comfort in that.

'But what if it doesn't work?'

That would be absolute worst case scenario, and the fact that it was a possible scenario scared him.

"Either way... I feel like I'd want you there. I don't know why but I do." You declared.

He's not even sure you've changed despite your memory loss, it's almost like you still know he'd do anything for you. And even now he'd do anything to keep you in his life.

Katsuki nodded, and let out a shaky breath.

"Let's start again." He said, straining a teary eyed smile.

You grabbed his hand, and without realizing you were holding each other's ring hands.

You nodded, and smiled back, feeling a strain of melancholy. If you could read each others minds, you'd be saying the same thing:

'I wanna fall in love with you again.'

[alluringjae]

queen of hearts - sjn

summary: for the first time, one of your star students hasn’t been fetched right after class. but when she finally does, you weren’t expecting such a fine man to be her father.

pairing: johnny x female reader

word count: 5.5k

genre: fluff, romance, comedy | ceo and single dad!johnny + ballerina!reader + modern day!au

warnings: mentions of an absent parent, johnny being an overthinker, sexual innuendos (ten saying dilf hehe), slight explicit language, technical terms of ballet, a mini reference to mean girls

author’s note: sooo i came in touch with my former dance life, which led me to write this. there are links for the variations i used; their names are underlined when they’re mentioned. i am going to get technical with ballet terms here (even when my ballet knowledge decreased), so to any dancers reading, i really did my best, so please don’t come for me or do correct me for any mistakes.

although one character and her dance background, plus the name of the setting, are real, everything else about it is still a work of fiction.

i miss dancing, no cap.

leave me some feedback, constructive criticism or hellos!

Ballet student and teacher by day, a soloist of the Korean National Ballet at night.

This was your daily routine, and it wasn’t the typical 8-5. But it’s debatable whether or not it was worse, because you’re always going overtime. That’s the thing when you’re an overachiever. Nonetheless, you loved what you do. It’s the lifestyle you gradually built since your preschool days.

Mornings on the weekdays were mostly vacant since all the kids were still in school. You’d start at 10 am for a warm-up class for the company. Before you delved into teaching and assisting, you’d train right after your lunch break. Partnering class, en pointe class, 1-on-1 sessions with choreographers, self-practice, then the company night class, that’s the organization of your week.

Now adding the teacher title, you mostly handled kindergartners to 5th graders in the academy aspect of the company. Your first teaching class would start at 1 pm. It’s when the younger students who finished their morning classes zoom into your assigned dance studio. One class would last an hour and a half, then you have a 30-minute break in between another class with the older kids. Their lesson repertoire was more strenuous due to the added across-the-floor lessons and jumps. Water was always your best friend, water refilling stations located everywhere in the company building.

You wouldn’t say you’re a strict teacher, but you weren’t shy to correct anyone from wherever you stood. You’d lightly align their arms or back properly so your students were working on the correct body parts. Compared to the other teachers, a lot of students enjoyed your kind yet frank approaches. Your former students, who’ve already gone to the higher levels, missed your lively presence and wished repeatedly that they want you back as their teacher.

“Teacher (Y/N), I miss you so much! Teacher Ten is so intense. I get the jitters especially when we’re en pointe on the floor.”

“Teacher (Y/N), Teacher Sicheng and Teacher Seulgi scare the heck out of me during partnering class. Especially when I tried to lift my partner, I keep losing focus because of Teacher Sicheng’s never-ending comments!”

Not to be sadistic, but you’d simply laugh at their minuscule complaints. Even if they’re struggling in the academy, those comments were directed to fix their techniques if they wanted to breakthrough.

“Kids, you’re going to be fine! They wouldn’t say or do those things just because they wanted to. They’re here to push you to the next level, like how I used to do with you. It’s a cut-throat industry after all.”

This was always your reply, bittersweet and truthful. Not everyone makes it, unfortunately, so if you’re really striving, you’d do whatever it takes. Throughout your career, you’re relatively impressed with how far you’ve come.

Trainee at 17, Corps de Ballet at 18, Demi-Soloist at 21, and Soloist at 23.

You’ve been a soloist for 4 years. The final stage, which was to become a principal dancer, is your running goal. Becoming a soloist was praiseworthy enough because you’ve seen so many give up in the Corps, but claiming a spot as a principal dancer has been the ultimate dream. Since you’ve watched Swan Lake for the first time at 4 years old with your parents, that’s where you found a passion for dancing and the stage. Here you are years later, practicing numerous variations daily, performing in opera houses, and mentoring all these gifted kids.

Your last class with elementary kids, which began around 5 pm, reached its end once all the students curtsied in front of you and scurried to their mothers or their nannies. The remaining plan on your agenda today was the company class at 7:30 pm, which exceeds the average hour and a half. It’s worse during show season. There have been times everyone went beyond midnight to polish every scene from head to toe.

Currently, there’s no upcoming show for the public, though the annual summer recital for the students was around the corner. Selected members of the company were chosen to perform individually in it, which was both exciting and intense. It’s also because it’s an evaluation on whether you’d get promoted in status or staying put. You’ve partaken in 3 recitals in the past, two of which elevated you from the corps and demi-soloist ranks. The recent one, however, didn’t change your soloist ranking.

It was a major first in your career in ballet, and after finding out the result of the latter, it emotionally pained you. Recalling how much soul you put into that piece, the rejection from your artistic director clenched your heart. Though in time, you moved on from it and viewed it as a stepping stone. Also, Sicheng and Ten personally stormed your apartment to pull yourself together with wine and pizza after going on a short leave.

Since you were trainees, Sicheng and Ten were your best friends in and outside the company. Working daily to occasional barhopping, that’s your youth summed up. It wasn’t because you didn’t like the girls you’ve worked with (though a lot of them were fake and bitchy), but these two were frank and humorous as hell. Together, you’d help each other with your goals rather than be competitive. Over time, Ten leveled up to a principal dancer for 2 years running while you and Sicheng were still soloists. The way you’d watch Ten take all the big roles, that’s where you want to be one day.

Back in your last teaching class, the entire dance room was vacant. Since it’s mainly used for ballet classes, you’d either run through anything you’ve practiced from the company classes and polish it or warm up a little bit more.

Except for today, this was the only free time to sew a new pair of pointe shoes because your current ones were dead. Dead in a sense that the hard shell turned soft, which won’t be able to support you when you’re up on your toes. You’re not taking any risks of minor injuries especially when you’re in the current lineup of company members performing for this upcoming recital again. You have to prove to everyone that you deserve a position as a principal dancer.

As your legs sprawled in a half middle split, your sewing equipment laid in front of you like you’re about to perform surgery, a tiny girl stood by the ajar studio doors. In her neat bun and holding on to her small duffel bag, you’re convinced everyone has gone home already since it’s quite late.

You may have your priorities as a company member, but she was still your student.

“Minji!” You shouted her name, speedily waving your hand. You’re not one to have favorites, though you couldn’t help wonder how extraordinary she was. She’s always taking charge in demonstrating the lessons to everyone and improving every session in the 3 years she’s joined the academy. “Come in! Come in!”

At age 7, she’s gotten taller through the years, above the average from how you see it. She must have amazing genetics. Her legs sauntered in seconds to you. Sitting down across you, she marveled at your setup. Specifically, at the fresh pointe shoes.

“Are those yours, Teacher (Y/N)?” She perked up, caressing its soft fabric and playing with the mini bows of the drawstrings.

“Yes, it is, Minji!” You answered while trying to insert the thin thread through the small eye of the needle. “Why are you still here? Is your nanny stuck in traffic or something?”

“My nanny went on sudden leave, so my dad’s the one fetching me. But I think he’s running late from his job.”

Oh, this was a first to know about her father. In all the years she’s been your student, you rarely caught sight of him, even in recitals. Maybe he sat in an unknown section, but you’re pretty much acquainted with all the parents of your students. Even if some were snobbier than the rest because they wanted their child to have more stage time, you still got to know them out of respect. Quite odd, if you said so yourself.

After deep concentration, the thread triumphantly passed through the eye so you tied the two ends of the thread in a double knot. Seeing as Minji attentively watched you, you tasked her to cut the ribbons of your shoes according to the trail of pencil marks. This was so she wouldn’t cut it too short or too long. While she did that, you hammered your shoes against the floor to soften the hard front, bending the shank back and forth so the arch of your feet could move without difficulty later.

Minji wasn’t expecting such loud sounds, her entire body shaken awake. Her facial expression was priceless, explaining to her, “Once you get your first pointe shoes in a few years, this is one of the basic things you need to do so your feet won’t hurt too much while dancing.”

“Will you be there to teach me how to make my pointe shoes?”

“Absolutely! Come to me first then I’ll mentor you all that I know.”

The process of sewing and breaking new pointe shoes engraved your mind since your adolescent years, with changes along the way. Inspired by some tricks from your former teachers, but there were some differing rituals you followed. There’s no definite process of it, just as long you’re comfortable to dance after.

With your feet, you stepped on the hard boxes of the shoes to soften it more, creating a popping sound. Followed by sewing your elastic bands in. For your ribbons, you liked to burn the edges with a lighter so the thread of it won’t run. Kindly asking your cute assistant for the lighter beside her, you scanned the edges back and forth the flame. In seconds, the edges had a distinct mark, fully closed. From there, you slid your feet to your shoes to make final sewing adjustments. Sewing your ribbons took you another few minutes, plus adding superglue inside the shoe so the shoe won’t collapse when it unstiffens and scratching the shank with a cutter so you won’t slip later while dancing.

Voila, the final product is done! Hopefully, it can last you a week at least.

“Wow, Teacher (Y/N), it looks pretty!” Minji applauded, collecting the mess you’ve both made to dispose of later. You, on the other hand, gave her your thanks once you applied some bandages on your big toes and put on your toe pads. Slipping inside the shoes and tying them, you rose up back to your feet and headed to the bar to break them in. From plies-relevésto forced arches, the shoes gave you the sensation that they were an extension of your feet. The ease flowed through, meaning you were ready to practice your variations.

While you stepped your shoes in rosin for friction, your curious student moved to the front where the mirror lied to watch what you’ve prepared.

“What variation are you dancing to?”

“This is the Gamzatti variation from La Bayadere.” You replied, tapping the play button on your phone and racing to your position on the side. Talking a short ballet walk, you strongly prepared your arms before the music of the orchestra takes off.

This variation consisted of a lot of jumps and turns. Grand jetés, attitude turns, chaîné turns, you needed a lot of core control and proper spotting so you won’t get dizzy. The thrilling music lessened your nerves because you enjoyed learning this piece from one of the principal dancers, smiling and letting the music guide your legs. Once you nailed 3 consecutive grand jetés, the variation ended with a sus-sous and the wrists of your hands flicking upwards.

Holding it for 5 more seconds, you landed back on your feet with heavy breathing and a need for water. But before you could, small claps and cheers from Minji in front erupted. Momentarily, you’ve forgotten her presence because dancing solo puts you in your own space. You’d never let anyone take you away from it.

“Teacher (Y/N), that was wonderful! Are you performing that in the summer recital?”

Yikes, she’s right but she wasn’t meant to see it yet. Solo performances from the company members for the recital were top secret, only unveiled during the production rehearsal. Well, you didn’t think this through, but you didn’t mind.

“Can you keep a secret?”

Time ticked a lot faster today, only 10 minutes left until the company class on the ground floor whereas you were in the second. Just a few steps down the stairs away, yet Minji was still here. You only presumed that within your hour break, her father could’ve made it already. But maybe he’s stuck in traffic or at work.

“Minji, my class starts soon. Have you contacted your father?”

“I already texted him earlier, but he hasn’t responded. This happens often, he’s a busy man.” She bowed in front of you suddenly. “I’m sorry, Teacher (Y/N) for the hassle.”

“Oh no, please!” You shook your hands so she’d stop. Because this situation was relatively new, you were unsure of how to handle it. Or that was until you remembered what Ten texted you earlier. “Minji, the blinds of the main studio are going to be lifted so anyone from the outside can view us practicing. Would you like to watch until your dad gets here?”

With her insistent nodding, she situated herself in one of the seats in the front row. When you entered the main studio, your two close companions already carried a metal barre to the center and leaned towards it while observing you walking to them in your flat shoes.

“I see we have a bit of an audience here.” Ten glimpsed at the young girl, astonished by the many dancers prepping and chatting away with their cliques from the glass barrier.

“Her dad isn’t here yet, and you did say the blinds were up today. Might as well give her a show while she waits, you know.” You lifted your right leg to the top barre, stretching it with your arms.

“Hmmm, shouldn’t her dad be more cautious though? It’s getting late and it’s a Thursday. Doesn’t she have school or something?” Sicheng pointed out, discarding his muscle tee to straighten out his leotard.

“That’s not my business though. She’s just my student, and since she’s still here, I have to entertain her while she waits.”

Before your friends said anything back, the artistic director of the ballet company strutted her way to the center of the room. It’s a common rule here that once she entered, everyone must be silent to listen and race to any free spot in the numerous barres spread out if they haven’t.

“Alright, everyone. We’ll do the typical barre, then before doing across the floor exercises, I’ll be requesting those performing solos already in the recital to dance any variation tonight as another evaluation on who deserves to perform twice.” She eyed the pianist directly beside her. “Proceed first with two demi-pliés then one grand plié. Don’t forget to do the port de bras of each position.”

As the live piano music played, your focus was divided. Partly properly executing the exercise while your artistic director roamed each barre area, partly thinking about what variation to perform. This was a first for the company, and everyone was just stunned to hear the breaking news. It’d be nice to get an extra opportunity to showcase to people your potential.

30-40 minutes flew by quickly. As the guys carried the bars to the side to clear out the floor and the girls changed to their pointe shoes, the artistic director ordered all the performers of the recitals to stand in a line in front of her. Everyone else was seated around the room, so the interested eyes of everyone were on you. There were 10 performers, half are from the corps and the other half are either demi-soloists or soloists. You and Sicheng stood beside each other, internally shaking with nerves under the intimidating eyes of the artistic director. She used to be a principal dancer for the Stuttgart Ballet in Germany before moving back to Seoul, making her undeniably capable of leading all of you.

“Okay,” From her seated position observing the 10 performers, her finger pointed at you directly. “Ms. (Y/L/N) (Y/N), you perform first.”

Your nerves intensified and more sweat streamed out your upper body. Even if going first felt more relieving, no one was ever brave enough to perform individually in front of the esteemed artistic director. Principal dancers aside from Ten that you’re close with were intimidated when they have 1-on-1 or partnering sessions with her. But anyhow, in less than 2 minutes, you’d be done. This wasn’t the first time she’s had your full attention either, so you’ll treat it like the other individual performances you’ve had.

You smiled to yourself when the other soloists left you alone, while you gave the name of the variation you’re dancing to the pianist. Running to the side to put on a practice tutu, the artistic director asked, “What will you be dancing for us tonight, (Y/N)?”

“I’ll be dancing Queen of the Dryads from Don Quixote.”

The last time you did this variation was 3 years ago during the recital that didn’t change your position as a soloist. Even if this variation hurt to think about for a while, it was still one of your favorites to watch and do. Moving on, you could only muse how powerful and beautiful you felt at that time. This isn’t an easy piece to perform in your opinion. Yet according to the members of the company, this was their favorite solo of yours.

As the starting notes unfolded, you took a deep breath and elegantly walked into the frame. You only wished you wore your fake crown again for this. Minimal smiling and light arms, you imagined yourself as an actual queen who captured the eyes of many. In this case, your fellow seniors and juniors held their breaths at the captivating sight of you.

Off you go into a series of glissade jeté developpé on relevé at elevating heights, then a fouetté arabesque and another arabesque on relevé before ballet walking again to the side to dance across the stage. Sissonne to the front, right developpé to the front on relevé, pique to prepare for a single pirouette, you gracefully did a chassé to the front twice and stood on your toes with a sus-sous.

Doing it a few more times, the climax of the entire variation was nearing. Returning to the center, you took another deep breath and lifted your left leg for the Italian fouettés. Spotting to the front and back while maintaining your balance, the variation approached its end with lame duck turns, posing with your arms were positioned at a 45-degree angle, your back slightly arched and your left leg doing a tendu derriére. Your eyes reflected at the mirror in front, surveying your alignment. Once your 5-second hold was finished, you properly put your arms down and closed your back leg into 5th position.

The applause from everyone in the room roared, Ten and Sicheng wolf-whistling even for more support. It’s a usual thing every time any of you perform individually, and no one minded it. The artistic director grinned, giving a quiet clap from the front before calling out the next performer, who was from the corps. Bowing to everyone hastily, you paid more attention to spot your student by the window. She was smiling ear to ear, waving both hands at you.

“You did amazing, Teacher!” She mouthed. Hearing words of praise from members was one thing, but hearing them from students was another. You’re so used to watching them and giving them your compliments that you often forget that you’re a dancer first before a teacher. Seeing them all delighted, saying that it motivates them more, showed that you’re doing a great job teaching them. You’re a reflection of what you pass down, and all you want was for them to be the best they could be.

From her jolly expression, a tall masculine silhouette hovered a part of the window. Her instinct of giving a brighter smile when the hand of said silhouette patted her head then carried her duffel bag again, that could only mean one thing. Excusing yourself to the artistic director, you stepped out to bid your goodbye and maybe meet her father. Minji and the tall man were about to leave the building if it weren’t for your breathy voice calling them out.

“Seo Minji and Mr. Seo?”

They stopped their tracks. Minji was fast to react, familiar with your voice and racing towards you for a sweaty hug. Meanwhile, your focus shifted once the masculine silhouette came into full view. You finally understood why Minji’s growth spurt spiked up, noticing that he was taller than Sicheng.

The top buttons of his shirt were off, yet he kept his formal blazer on. His hair was a bit tousled, some strands falling in front of his forehead. He must’ve run here. Peeking through were some roots of his scruff growing. His eyebags were almost as dark as his brown hair. Yet by the way his Rolex remained spotless, you blatantly assumed that he was more than well-off. Especially when the ballet academy was one of the most prestigious ones in Seoul.

Out of all the parents you’ve met, none of them appeared youthful like him.

“Teacher (Y/N)?” Thanks to Minji, you moved your staring eyes away from him. This was another first, since meeting only the fathers of your students wasn’t your norm. Meeting young-looking fathers, to be specific.

“O-Oh,” You ate your words, suddenly blanking out. “You’re leaving me without saying goodbye, Minji? Not polite of you.”

“My father was rushing right after watching your performance, and I don’t know why.” She responded, her finger scratching the top of her head in confusion. Speaking of said father, his strong presence appeared right in front of you. The wrinkles of his forehead creased while his eyes barely looked at yours.

“Uhm,” His fingers toyed with his Rolex. “I apologize for my tardiness. I got caught up in work and all, plus her nanny le-”

“Mr. Seo.” You halted his rambling, already aware of the situation. Like father, like daughter. “It’s fine. Minji loved watching us practice while waiting, and she wasn’t a bother either. You have nothing to worry about.”

“Phew.” He swiped an imaginative bead of sweat from his forehead, displaying his relief with his playful nature.

At age 23, Johnny Seo started his own company in the fashion scene and it grew internationally in the coming years. Then when Minji unexpectedly joined the picture, he’s been multi-tasking to make ends meet. Lately, as a CEO, he has had meetings and conferences on a daily. So, his position as a single father was always tested. It worsened when he rarely has proper time to spend any time with Minji unless it’s the weekend or late in the evening. Breaking it down, it wasn’t because he didn’t want to meet you. It was more like he couldn’t when his schedules were packed from head to toe.

Having the guilt of taking your precious time, “Seriously though, I am sorry for being late. Her nanny resigned suddenly, and I have no time to find her replacement.”

“Mr. Seo, again, don’t worry about it. As her teacher and a company member, I am practically here 24/7 so it won’t be a nuisance at all if this happens again.”

“Thank you so much, Teacher (Y/N). That is your name, right?” He planted his palm on his forehead, stressed. “Being a single parent is hard. I am always forgetting things.”

A part of you couldn’t restrain from feeling sorry for his struggle. Taking care of a child should be the work of both the mother and father, not one of them being absent. You’ve feared this would harm Minji, but she’s a strong girl.

“The fact you didn’t forget to fetch Minji despite the late time is still something to be happy over. I’m not a parent or anything, but parenting, in general, is a challenge.” You added an insight, patting the head of the young girl beside you. “Cut yourself some slack, Mr. Seo. I’m sure Minji still loves you, right?”

Minji shouted a big yes, now clinging to the leg of her father. “It’s okay, dad. Really.”

Over the years, Johnny has been doubtful of his parenting skills. He was an only child, and he struggled to ask for guidance from his own parents due to the shame of having a kid at a young age. So, he’d ask for help from his other friends and co-workers. No matter how many times they’ve reassured him that he’s doing well, he’s an overthinker who always reflected on the bad scenarios. There’s also that pressure to find someone who can fill that absent position not just for Minji, but for himself too. No matter how many girls he’s asked out or been set up with, he failed in the love department badly.

It’s the soothing way you voiced out your truth that made all these negative thoughts running through his head freeze briefly. Over the past 3 years since Minji started ballet, she always had a great story about you to share. One of them was how ballet made her a lot happier because of your influence. If he had at least an hour of his day to meet any of his daughter’s mentors, it would’ve been you.

“Do feel free to call me Johnny instead.” He casually introduced himself, taking his hand out for you to shake. “Mr. Seo makes me feel like I’m at work right now.”

Despite his informal approach, you understood his intentions and returned the action with a promising smile. “Pleasure to finally meet you, Johnny.”

“Pleasure is all mine, Teacher (Y/N).”

Earlier, the nerves from performing in front of the artistic director died down fast. But for some reason, they rose back up when you’ve spoken to this man in a matter of minutes. As someone whose feelings don’t flourish in a single glance, why did this man specifically deliver you such a strong effect?

If it weren’t for Ten calling for your name by the door, you would’ve held on to Johnny’s hand longer, which would’ve been inappropriate. Letting go first, this was your cue to return to your class.

“I must head back inside, Johnny. Don’t sweat on fetching your daughter late, though she is still a student with school the following day. Right, Minji?”

Minji nodded as Johnny kept that mind, knowing where he has to improve next.  “Yes, Teacher (Y/N). Thank you again, sincerely. I’ll definitely see you again in the coming days until Minji has a new nanny.”

“That’s no problem with me at all, Johnny.”

Soon as Johnny held his daughter’s hand to exit the studio and you were re-entering the studio with an impatient Ten, he swerved swiftly as if he forgot something.

“Oh by the way Teacher (Y/N), I saw your whole performance awhile ago. I was blown away, you deserved the applause.”

Although you could only distinguish his silhouette, you didn’t suppose he watched you from head to toe. Most parents or nannies would’ve dragged their kids out of the studio once they find them like they were on a tight schedule, so this was novel to experience. That performance showed your prime too.

“Thank you, Johnny. See you again soon.”

Giving a final nod, you led yourself back to the studio, not bothering to acknowledge the erupting heat on your cheeks and entire body. Not to sound narcissistic, but compliments weren’t foreign to you. You’re conscious of the hard work that you put in your talent and if they pointed out your greatness, why would you deny it? However, receiving one from Johnny was like gearing your engine with new fuel.

Before you could try to reject these harboring feelings, Ten was fast to pick up on it. You cannot hide anything from this man at all because body language was like another language he’s fluent in (aside from the other 5). Unlucky for you, the saga continued.

“You’re so into dilfs, (Y/N)!” He shrieked in your ear, nudging your shoulder repetitively. He placed things in his own way, yet they always shocked you because it was so inappropriate. Typical Ten for you.

“Shut up, Ten!” You objected, watching the other performers. You’ve improved in ignoring his remarks over time. That was until Sicheng sat down beside you after his solo and got up in your business. That placed you in the middle of boys from the water sign clan of astrology. They just loved getting down to your love life, going raunchy and whatnot.

“Who’s into dilfs, Ten?”

“A Miss (Y/N) beside you, who met Minji’s dad awhile ago, was basically eye-fucking him.” Ten elaborated, planting his elbows on your leg and gave you a sneaky glare. “Minji’s dad is fine as fuck, guys! I’m telling you, like a literal god! I’m surprised this is the first time he showed up here after 2-3 years?”

“How come (Y/N) is always getting students with good-looking parents? Especially the single moms.” Sicheng slumped his shoulders, attempting to get your attention too. “Is he that hot, (Y/N)?”

“Yah.” Sighing with annoyance, you’ve given up trying to appreciate one of the corps dancers with her rendition of Dulcinea from Don Quixote. “Don’t speak of Johnny like that. You barely know the man, yet you talk about him so unprofessionally."

“Oh, Johnny is his name, huh?” Sicheng sing-songed, bobbing his head. He’s certainly going to stalk him later on social media, you felt it in your chest. Like it was ESPN or something.

“Talking about being unprofessional, yet you’re here referring him as Johnny, not Mr. Seo.” Ten barked back, his lips pursed and one eyebrow lifted.

Just as soon as you could retaliate, the artistic director’s velvety voice boomed the room.

“Alright, thank you to the performers. I will deliberate with the staff and principal dancers over the weekend, and let you know the results on Monday. Now please, let’s proceed to the center.”

Everyone began to spread out on the wide floor, snatching a good position so they could monitor themselves in the mirror. Maybe you’ll defend yourself later after class because now, you needed to beat everyone else and have a crystal-clear view of yourself doing these following exercises.

In the meantime, Johnny was in the middle of driving Minji home. He had a designated chauffeur, but he gave him the night off because he wanted to spend time with Minji. Around this time, she’d be sleeping soundly, but instead, she’s boosting with so much life. She hasn’t even eaten dinner yet, which was the first thing on Johnny’s agenda now.

Playing Coldplay in the car, Minji belted some lyrics from her favorite songs while Johnny smiled to himself while listening to her attentively. Taking a breath, her thoughts reverted to her fantastic ballet teacher and shared them with her father.

“Dad! Don’t you just think Teacher (Y/N) is so cool? Ugh, I want to be just like her when I grow up.”

“Oh, to become a ballerina like her, you have to work hard every day and memorize lessons fast. Are you up for it, Minji?”

“Absolutely, dad! I want to pull off perfect jumps and turns like her one day!”

In the other after-school activities Johnny enrolled Minji in the past, none of them compared to the passion she had for ballet. Her work ethic was alike to Johnny’s: if they want something, they’ll do whatever it takes to make it possible.

Aside from being a star student in her school, she’s aiming to be a star ballerina. Being the supportive father he is, Johnny was on board to do what it takes to make it happen. Unlike his parents trying to mold him into the next heir of their company, he’s all ears to the dreams of his daughter. His only dream for her was to be live long and happy, not to merely pass on anything.

Johnny lost so much in his young life, so he doesn’t want to lose Minji in any way. As much as he loves his profession, he wanted to be an active father as much as time allowed it. He mostly received complaints from others that he’s not prioritizing his time well, but after hearing your kind words, this heavy weight on his shoulders decreased. All this doubt started to vanish after meeting you for the first time.

“Dad! Isn’t Teacher (Y/N) so beautiful?” Minji honored whilst gazing at the twinkling night sky. “She loves what she does and shines at it.”

Johnny was accustomed to his female co-workers throwing themselves at him due to his attractiveness, more than flattered even to have them feeling weak for him. Yes, there were times he used it to his advantage, some he frankly turned down. 

However, the radiance you carried whether you’re dancing or not was something Johnny couldn’t cease wondering about. Unknown to him, he’s the one getting weak. Behold, an unlocked first for the confident CEO.

“Yes, Minji. I do think Teacher (Y/N) is absolutely beautiful.”

[redorich]

I absolutely adore the hermit canyon au both because you have such a fun writing style and because it just makes it so blatantly clear how much of a different level the hermits are on compared to the dsmp folks. Power mad admin who's effectively a god on the server? Just vore him, it's fine! Spooky egg that brings madness and suffering to everyone who interacts with it? Grian can handle it, give him 30 seconds. It's such a good portrayal of their differences and I'm absolutely delighted by it

thank you!! i try very hard to cultivate a writing style that's fun, rather than a slog. and yes, the difference in power level is absolutely one of my favorite tropes, so i'm glad so many people enjoyed it! speaking of the hermits' casual wielding of insane levels of power.....

"So, how are you going to fix the Era Three life system anyway?" Cleo asks. She and Xisuma are casually walking down the main hall of the canyon.

Xisuma never goes anywhere alone anymore. Even though a survivable amount of magic has been returned to the Dream SMP server and Xisuma is no longer infirm, all those months of staying by his side have left a lasting impression.

"Hm, it basically comes down to a charisma check-- have you ever played Dungeons and Dragons, Cleo?"

"Not really," Cleo admits, "but Joe does and he's talked about it before. Charisma check?"

Xisuma stops walking, opening the door to the small meeting room in the heart of the canyon and holding the door open for Cleo. As she passes through, he explains.

"We have a source of magic, and we have a plan to implement it. The only obstacle is convincing Mojang that they should; hence, charisma check."

"Hey, Xisuma," Joe greets as the admin follows behind Cleo.

"Hello, Joe," Xisuma returns, surveying the room. The chair at the far end of the table has been left open for the admin, and unlike the meeting with the Dream SMP representatives, the Hermits don't give a fuck about who sits where and what that says about their status.

Doc is sitting in the place two seats from Xisuma's spot, leaning back in his chair so that only two of its legs are on the ground and his croc-clad creeper toes are kicked up on the edge of the table. A few spaces down is Joe, minding his business and reading a book (upside down-- it's more of a challenge that way) and across from Joe is Etho, sitting patiently.

With a shrug, Cleo snags the nearest chair and turns it around so she can sit in it backwards and still face the table. No one planned on her being here, and she has no idea what's going on, but no one has really told her to leave, so that's pretty much implicit permission.

After making his way to his seat, Xisuma addresses the table. "Are we all ready? Etho, do you think you can convince whoever shows up?"

Etho hums in thought for a moment. "Yeah, I can do that. Still need to actually get one of the gods here, though."

"I'm on it," Doc says, already on his communicator.

Cleo squints at Doc. "You have the gods on speed dial?"

Doc shrugs. "We text sometimes."

"About what?!" Cleo says.

"Basketball."

Cleo squints at Doc. "Don't you, like, hold a grudge or something against Dinnerbone? I mean, he did literally rip off your arm."

"Got a cool robot arm out of it, though," Doc says placidly. "It's got a screwdriver in it."

"Like a Swiss army knife?" Joe chimes in, putting down his book.

"Yeah," Doc says proudly, "bottle opener too-- for beer."

"As fascinating as Doc's Sonic Screwdriver arm is, we do have something to be doing," Xisuma reminds the group wryly.

"Oh yeah," Doc says. "Agnes is coming."

Cleo drums her fingers on the table. "When will she be here-- oh!"

A radiant figure emitting soft yellow light appears on top of the table; although the figure is bright, it doesn't hurt to look at. The glow dims and the light coalesces into a small woman with pale yellow hair. The woman-- presumably Agnes of the Mojang pantheon-- opts to sit side-saddle on the table instead of in a chair.

"Hello! It's nice to see you again, Doc," she says, "oh, and Etho as well-- and Herobrine?"

"I go by Joe now," the man says simply.

Agnes smiles. "My bad, Joe. Now, what did you need me for, Doc?"

"Er, it's actually about the three-life system," Xisuma cuts in.

"Yes? What about it?" Agnes tilts her head.

"It was... a good system, doing what you could with the lack of magic," Xisuma says diplomatically, "but we think we've found a way to fix things. Joe?"

Joe takes over, setting his book down on the table after carefully bookmarking his place. "So the issue is the lack of magic, right? You couldn't support updates and player respawns after Notch took what he did."

"This is correct," Agnes says with a service industry smile, likely not appreciating the reminder of her pantheon's failure.

"So, use the In Between," Joe says. "It's got so much extra magic that it keeps sending people back in time; I was stumped on a way to fix it, but if you can give the magic to the players it's a win-win."

Eyebrows raising to her hairline, Agnes's face falls into a considering moue. "I'd much rather use it to push the next update," she says. "The Caves and Cliffs update is one of the biggest yet."

Cleo's unbeating heart sinks in her chest. Is this it? Is their only way to help these people going to be appropriated by well-meaning yet selfish gods?

"People are dying!" Cleo shouts. "Isn't that more important than your stupid update?!"

Agnes turns to look at her for the first time, and Cleo refuses to be afraid.

"I know it must sound callous of me, but... well, people die," Agnes says gently. "They always do. Even Era One players aren't immune. The better thing to do would be to improve their quality of life while they can still live it."

Shoulders rising in anger as she suppresses the urge to bite and kill and devour, Cleo takes a breath to rage when Etho of all people cuts in.

"Remember that IOU you gave me?" he says. There's a twinkle in his eye that only intensifies when Agnes groans.

"Don't tell me," she says. "You're seriously going to use that now? On this? I gave it to you centuries ago, I thought you'd forgotten!"

"Nope," Etho crows, "just saving it for a special occasion."

Agnes sighs, bringing a hand to her temple. "And what am I supposed to do about the Caves and Cliffs update?" she says tiredly.

"Cut it in half?" Etho shrugs.

"...Fine." Agnes disappears, dimming the room from the lack of her godly presence. Within a few seconds (relatively speaking, as time is more of a suggestion than a rule when you're powerful enough), a wave of magic washes over the group. It explodes outward from the table like ripples from a cannon ball, washing over the entire server. The change is palpable.

"Etho, I could kiss you right now," Cleo says, relieved beyond measure.

"Please don't," he says with a smile. "After all, I don't know where your mouth's been."

Cleo raises an unimpressed eyebrow, pretending to mull the situation over.

"Yeah, you make a good point," she says, and the group bursts into laughter.