#i had never been so into a game in my life

[satellite-evans]

Benedict Bridgerton with pregnant wife reader. With "Oh honey, come here!" and"One more kiss, please!". Fluff and maybe a little spicey👀 Thanks!! :))

One more kiss

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x reader

Summary: Benedict can't keep his hands ( or his mouth ) to himself :)

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings: fluff, kissing, teasing

A/N:

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, recommendations, vents or questions are always welcome. I love talking to you guys about anything <3

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

The air in the room seemed to hum, not with silence but with the fullness of life. You were a vessel of creation, the curve of your belly like the swelling of the moon—round, heavy, radiant in its own right. But like the moon pulling the tides, your body pulled at you, each movement a slow dance between discomfort and love.

Your hand rested instinctively over the swell of your abdomen, fingers tracing patterns over the stretched skin, a gentle reminder that life pulsed within you, even as you grew weary under its weight. You had crossed the line from glowing to aching, from grace to a slower, heavier presence. Every breath you took felt deeper, fuller, and yet… your patience was stretched as thin as the fabric that clung to your body.

Benedict had been watching you for some time now, his gaze heavy with the kind of awe that made you both feel powerful and vulnerable all at once. He stood by the door, taking in the sight of you—the woman he adored, carrying the child you had made together. And though you felt cumbersome, ungainly, he seemed to see only beauty, a force of nature incarnate.

The tension in his stare hadn’t gone unnoticed. It had been growing for weeks, ever since your belly had become unmistakable proof of his devotion to you, of his claim over you. He was never far from you now—his hands always reaching, always craving. It was as though the sight of you so full, so pregnant with his child, ignited something primal in him.

"Oh honey, come here," Benedict’s voice broke through your thoughts, low and filled with that familiar hunger. It wasn’t a question—it was a plea. His eyes were dark, focused, as if the weight of his desire was something he could barely contain.

You narrowed your eyes slightly, lips twitching into the faintest smile. You knew this game by now. Ever since you’d started showing, Benedict had been… insatiable. It was as though seeing you pregnant with his child sparked something primal in him. His touch had become needier, his kisses hungrier. And while you adored his attention—most of the time—there were moments, like now, when the exhaustion outweighed your desire to entertain him.

“Benedict,” you sighed, shifting slightly in your seat, trying in vain to ease the pressure in your lower back. “I can’t… I can’t move right now. This baby feels like a boulder.”

He didn’t miss a beat, crossing the room with swift determination. “Then I’ll come to you.” There was a soft chuckle beneath his words, but the look in his eyes was nothing short of feral as he knelt in front of you. His hands, warm and slightly calloused, slid up your thighs with an almost worshipful care, his thumbs brushing circles over the fabric of your dress.

Your body responded in spite of itself, a shiver running down your spine. Despite your weariness, there was something about the way he looked at you—as though he was starved for you—that made it hard to stay indifferent.

"Look at you," he murmured, his voice thick with awe. His hands moved to cradle your belly, his fingers spreading wide across the expanse of your rounded abdomen. "You’re… God, you’re perfect."

“Perfect?” you huffed, shifting again in your seat. “I feel like a whale.”

Benedict's eyes flickered up to meet yours, the corner of his mouth tugging into a roguish grin. “A beautiful, glowing goddess, then. One that happens to be carrying my child." There was a possessiveness in his tone, but not in the way that felt suffocating. It was full of adoration, of reverence. He was proud of you—proud of what your body was doing, what the two of you had created together.

He leaned in, pressing his lips to your belly, and you could feel the warmth of his breath through the thin fabric of your dress. It sent a ripple of warmth through you, despite your fatigue. His hand traced slow, deliberate circles over your skin, his touch reverent and loving, but the heat in his gaze was unmistakable.

“Benedict,” you warned, but there was no real bite to it. You were tired, yes, but the way he touched you, the way he looked at you—it stirred something deep inside, something that made it hard to resist him entirely.

“Just one kiss,” he whispered, his voice deep and rough, filled with a need that made your skin prickle. He pressed another kiss to your belly, then moved upward, trailing his lips along your skin, over the curve of your breast, up to your neck. “One more kiss. Please.”

You let out a soft groan, both from the ache in your back and the ache building between your legs. “Benedict, I’m exhausted.”

He smiled against your skin, his lips brushing the sensitive spot just beneath your ear. “I know, darling. I know. But I can’t help it. I need you.” His hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you down toward him, his eyes pleading, full of unspoken desire. “Please,” he murmured, his voice softer now, desperate. “Oh honey, come here.”

Despite yourself, despite the weariness in your bones, you leaned in, letting your lips meet his. The kiss was slow at first, but it deepened quickly, as though he couldn’t hold himself back any longer. His mouth moved against yours with the same hunger you’d felt simmering beneath the surface for weeks.

You moaned softly, feeling his hands slipping beneath the fabric of your dress, caressing your skin with an urgency that made your heart race. His touch was firm, but careful, mindful of the life you carried, yet undeniably full of desire.

"Benedict," you murmured against his lips, half-heartedly trying to pull away. "I’m… tired."

He groaned softly, his forehead pressing against yours as he took a breath, his fingers still gently stroking your belly. “I know. I’ll be gentle. Just... stay with me for a little longer.” His voice was thick with emotion, his eyes full of longing. “Please. I need to feel you, love. Just one more kiss.”

You sighed, shaking your head slightly but couldn’t help the smile that crept onto your face. "You're insatiable, Benedict."

He chuckled softly, pressing his lips to yours again, this time slower, softer, but no less passionate. “Only for you,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. “Only ever for you.”

And as his hands continued to caress you, as his kisses deepened, you let yourself melt into him, letting the exhaustion fall away, if only for a little while. Because even though you were tired, there was something about the way he touched you—like you were the center of his world—that made you feel alive, loved, cherished. And in that moment, you gave yourself over to him, one more time.

“Fine,” you whispered against his lips. “But just… one more.”

[ladykailitha]

A Love Connection Part 1

In a very special engagement (as in a don't normally post 5 days a week), I introduce "A Love Connection"!

If the premise looks familiar the original idea is from here, where a couple of people in the notes or tags said they'd love to try it. And after a year, I figured I'd try my own hand at the idea.

This will update on Tuesdays at 10am and 10pm EST. With hopefully eight chapters.

Summary: Steve has tried everything under the sun to find someone to truly connect with, so he gives up after a particularly horrible date. Then Chrissy introduces him to her favorite game show "Love Connection". When Chrissy and Robin apply for him, they don't think they'll except him, but he does. His suitors are Billy Hargrove, Tommy Hagan, and Eddie Munson. Will Steve crash and burn again or will his connection be there waiting for him?

~

Look, to say Steve’s love life was a disaster would be unfair. That would be underselling it. It was a fucking catastrophe. He had gone to bars, joined hobby groups, used all the apps, even Grindr; though that was mostly for hookups, which sucked. But that was the nature of the beast if he was honest.

And the beast had completely devoured him. All his dates were either only interested the casual, cheated on him, or wanted one-night stands. Which Steve absolutely did not want. He wanted connection. Intimacy.

“I absolutely give up,” he whined to Robin, after the last date tried to slip out in the middle of the night, knocked over their lamp into their goldfish bowl, killing the goldfish, then he tried to hide the evidence by dumping it down the garbage disposal and turning it on! Lied about it, then stole their last beer as “compensation for his trauma’ and told Steve to never call him again.

“Look, Ryan wasn’t the best guy,” Robin replied with a grimace. “He liked Oasis and Tool unironically. Always a red flag.”

Steve snorted. Robin was a music snob most days, but she wasn’t wrong about that. Ryan and he had been dancing around and with each other for weeks before they finally got so hot and heavy that they went back to Steve’s for sex.

“It’s not fair,” he huffed. “You went to that bar and you a hottie girlfriend and I went to that bar and fucked a fish killer! I loved Garfield! He lived for five years before that bastard mercilessly murdered him. That’s long than my last ten relationships combined!”

Robin winced. “Ooh... I’m going to have to call Chrissy and let her know we can’t go back to that gay bar again.”

“Oh he’s so dead now!” Steve ranted. “Not only is he fish killer, he has driven us from our favorite bar!”

“Let me order us some take out,” Robin said standing up, “then I’ll call Chrissy over and we’ll all cry over Ciarán Hinds and Amanda Root falling in love.”

Steve sniffed away a couple of tears and nodded. “Then can we have a funeral for Garfield?”

Robin tilted her head and smiled sadly. “Of course we can. It’s a Sunday so none of us have work. We can watch as many weepy romance movies as you want, okay?”

“Okay,” Steve croaked. She gave him a big hug and kissed his cheek. He watched her wander into the kitchen to see what leftovers they had in the fridge so they could order from somewhere else. He loved her so much.

~

Sometime in the afternoon when they were more than a little tipsy, Chrissy commandeered the remote and turned on her favorite game show.

“Love Connection”

“Noooo...” Steve whined, burying his head into a throw pillow. It was Garfield shaped. It was what inspired the naming of the valiant fish. “This is the last thing I want to see. It’s so fake. No one gets together on these things. It’s so cheesy.”

“Exactly!” Chrissy crowed. “That’s why it’s perfect, we get to make fun of them!”

Steve thought that the only good part of the show was the second half. The first half was split into three different rounds. The first round was each suitor answer the one question, for a total of fifteen and then the catch would rank them, best got three points, second two, and third only one.

Then in the second round there were a set of rapid fire either or questions that the catch would yell out and the suitors would write down their answers. If their answer matched the catch’s they would get a tally. Whoever had the most tallies would win five points. Then three points to second place and one to the last place.

Then in the final round, each suitor would be asked separate questions and the catch would rate their answer one through three and that’s how many points they would get. Then at the end of the round all the points would be tallied up and the two highest would move on to the next round.

To the part that Steve actually liked. The first question always asked was “what would you do for a first date?” And the suitors got to take the catch out for the date and then afterward for drinks, the two dates would ask the catch some of the questions he asked them. Then the catch would pick the one they connected to the best.

It was all the stupid questions that bothered Steve. That was the fun part of dating, having these conversations and learning about them as you go. But then maybe that’s what Steve’s problem was, is that the people he dated didn’t care about these types of conversations.

“Why would you say you hate sports,” Steve huffed, waving his hand at the screen, “when the guy is a major soccer fan? Like did she think that she was going to put a stop to him enjoying it after starting dating?”

“Ooh yeah,” Chrissy agreed. “Just pick a different catch.”

Robin turned to her and tilted her head. “Do they get to chose their catch? I thought it was all random.”

Chrissy paused the show and pulled out her phone and the Wikipedia article. “Okay, it says here that people can apply to be suitors,” she waved at the row of women in the three booths. “Or catches.” She indicated the guy with her hand. “If they’re chosen to be a suitor then they are given a list of catches, headshot included. Then they rank vote them, so if four people pick Henry, then one will be on their second rank vote. And that part is randomized. According to them, anyway.”

Steve snorted. He highly doubted anything was randomized or voted on. They went for the biggest drama and everyone knew it.

“How long has this show been going on?” he huffed. “Like please tell it’s new and shiny and that’s why people like it.”

Robin snorted and shook her head. “Sorry, babe. But this is season twelve.”

“Oohh...” Chrissy said. “We need to show him the season six finale. That was hella juicy!”

So despite Steve’s protests, Chrissy pulled it up on her streaming services even though they hadn’t even finished the episode they were on.

When the credits rolled, Steve stared at the screen in utter shock. “What the honest fuck was that?”

Two of the three guys got into an all out brawl when the one guy had scored the lowest and felt that the second place suitor cheated. Not first place, second. Both guys were arrested and hauled off the set.

“It came out later Sven was right,” Robin said. “Elliot cheated. His cousin was an ex of the catch so he went in knowing a lot about Stella. The things he got wrong were things that had changed since she was dating his cousin.”

Chrissy nodded. “That’s why the have partitions up between the suitors now and why they have vigorous screening now. The show was almost canceled.”

“So why wasn’t it?” Steve asked honestly. “That was a shit show, if I was Stella I would have sued them into oblivion.”

Robin squirmed uncomfortably in her seat. “She did, but they settled out of court.”

“Basically,” Chrissy said, pouring them more wine and handing the first glass to Steve, “she wanted them to completely overhaul the system. She didn’t want it off the air, she wanted it safer for future participants.”

“The more the fool them,” Steve huffed. He took a long sip of his wine. “All right, fine. Let’s start at the beginning.”

Robin and Chrissy cheered and they all huddled up together on the sofa to watch this absolute train wreck of a show.

They were about half way through the third season and twice as drunk when Steve slurred, “Why are there no gay peemles in this? It’s a trav–trad–tramajesty.”

“Travesty!” Robin slurred back, her language skills always being the last to go when she’s three sheets to the wind. “And you are absolutely right! This is homophobic!”

Chrissy nodded solemnly and pulled out her phone. “I’mma show them...” she muttered with her tongue sticking out. “At loveconnectionUSA Need more gays, hashtag loveconnection hashtag need more gays.”

It wasn’t long after that that the three of them passed out on the sofa, empty bottles all around them and a message on the screen asking if they’re still watching.

~

There was a loud beeping noise and it absolutely was hurting his head. He reached over to where his phone was usually plugged in on his nightstand, but his hand went straight through it. He waved his arm all over the place but still his nightstand eluded him.

He peaked open one eye but his vision was obscured by a mass of blonde hair. He tried to push it out of the way but it kept falling back into his face. Finally he pushed Robin off him and onto the floor with a thud.

“Hey!” she yelped.

Steve peered over the edge of the sofa with a look of confusion. “Why are you on the floor?” he muttered over the still beeping of his alarm.

“Stop!” he mumbled and somehow, blissfully it did.

“I’m on the floor because you pushed me there,” Robin huffed, getting to her feet. She did a sniff test and grimaced when she completely failed. “God... how much did we drink yesterday?”

Chrissy struggled to sit up and blinked at her girlfriend groggily. “Not enough if I feel like this.”

Steve rolled over and looked at them both in confusion, then the events of Saturday and all day Sunday came flooding back in.

“Oh fuck...” he muttered, sitting up himself and rubbing his face. One eye was blurry from where his contact had shifted in the night. He wasn’t even sure why he had them on. Probably from sheer force of habit.

He got up and stumbled toward the bathroom where he emptied his stomach of all its boozy contents. He really didn’t remember them eating after breakfast, only a steady stream of harder and harder liquor.

While his was puking his guts out, Chrissy and Robin stole the shower. Thankfully only taking the time they needed to get the gross feeling of being hungover off their skin.

Then Steve closed his eyes as they exited the shower and snuck into Robin’s room to get ready for work. They all worked at Hawkins Middle School, where Steve was a history teacher who coached swimming and basketball. Chrissy was a health teacher and advisor for cheerleading. And Robin was the language teacher. The principal snatched her up because she could teach French, Spanish, and Italian, with her only needing to hire a German teacher.

Steve got his shower and then opted for glasses instead of his contacts, not trusting his shaky hands not poke out his eye or some shit.

They all were mostly human once they got coffee, painkillers, and cereal in them, the three of them, no doubt looking like escaped extras from a zombie flick. They moved as one, gathering up their stuff and shuffling out to Steve’s car. Chrissy sat in the back, Robin riding shotgun.

Chrissy opened her phone to check to see if she had any messages. “Holy shit!”

~

Part 2

Look I'd be sorry about the cliffhanger, but you're only waiting 12 hours for it, soooo...

Have fun!

Tag List: TEN SLOTS OPEN

1-@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @justforthedead89 @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

[allwaswell16]

A fic rec of soft One Direction fics with omega Harry as requested in this ask. If you enjoy the fics, please leave kudos and comments! You can find my other fic recs here. Happy reading!

- Louis/Harry -

🌸 Little by Little by nonsensedarling / @absoloutenonsense

(E, 65k, o/o) Harry Styles is an omega who works at the London Planetarium, has lived in the same flat for ages, and is happy enough on his own. When he gets home from his first (horrible) attempt at dating in years, a new pregnant neighbor knocks on his door after smelling his cooking. 

🌸 You're Not My Type (still I fall) by Imogenlee / @imogenleewriter

(E, 38k, farm) Harry is only twenty-four and has no inclination to settle down at all, especially not at the behest of an Alpha. But, as his mum would point out, that was the same stubborn attitude that got him here: in his car, in a thunderstorm, on the side of a forsaken lane of some little countryside town in Yorkshire.

🌸 dream about a summer night by fearsparks / @onlythebravest

(T, 33k, summer camp) Working alongside each other as camp counsellors, Harry and Louis grow closer than they’ve ever been before. That’s not a problem, but now they have these newfound feelings for each other to deal with.

🌸 findin' pieces that can fit by lsforever / @kingonafiftymetreroad

(E, 31k, o/o) an Omega/Omega Established Relationship AU where they’re figuring it out as they go along. There’s a road trip in there, lots of cuddling, some cats and dogs, and, of course, the best first time Harry could ever ask for.

🌸 Is it a sign? by bluegreenish / @greenblueish

(E, 25k, deaf Harry)  the one where Harry meets a certain handsome alpha at his sister's wedding and learns that speaking verbally doesn't have to be the only means of communication.

🌸 love so soft, you ain’t had nothing softer (series) by @neondiamond

(E, 15k, strangers to lovers) Louis is an Alpha with an odd obsession for gummy bears. Harry is an Omega who makes friends a little too easily. They meet on the bus.

🌸 Stars Will Align For Us by @2tiedships2

(NR, 15k, pining) the one where Harry is an omega at a loss of how to get past his pining and gain the attention of Louis...especially considering the alpha is always in a relationship.

🌸 balance between you and me by beckywritesthings / @beckydoesthings

(T, 15k, coworkers) As a successful businessman, Louis is used to the long hours, never-ending work, and constant exhaustion. What hits the hardest, even though he'd never admit it, is the empty apartment he comes home to every day.

🌸 Come In and Change My Life by lightswoodmagic / @lightwoodsmagic

(E, 12k, neighbors) Harry and Louis become friends when Harry looks after Louis' cat during away games, until one night at a party changes everything between them. It's just a shame Louis' going to be away for the FIFA World Cup for three months.

🌸 I Can't Hear You by kikikryslee / @flamboyantommo

(E, 9k, established relationship)  the one where Harry is self-conscious about his body because it's not the 'typical omega body' and Louis shows him why he loves that.

🌸 you give me feelings that i adore by @alwaysxlarrie

(T, 7k, uni) 5 times Louis scents Harry's things and the 1 time Harry returns the gesture.

🌸 Court Wine by @enchantedlandcoffee , red_panda28 / @red-pandaaa

(T, 7k, friends to lovers) after a misunderstanding during a scrabble game, Alpha Louis starts courting Omega Harry without the latter being aware of it.

🌸 All at once, this is enough by @lunarheslwt

(G, 7k, o/o) Harry, overcome with burn out, wants to nest but he has never nested before, doesn’t know how to. Louis, his best friend, is only happy to help him make a nest and be there for him. Along the way, they find something more.

🌸 young hearts on the chase by homemotif / @polaroidlouis

(G, 7k, meet cute) harry’s a hopeless romantic, louis’ oblivious, and it’s going to be Valentine’s Day.

🌸 I Want You to Linger by @insightfulinsomniac

(E, 6k, friends to lovers) A friends-to-lovers fic in which oblivious alpha Louis courts his best friend, nests with the gifts he gets him, and is faced with the reality that sometimes telling someone you love them doesn’t go to plan (but turns out better in the end anyway).

🌸 As one we are everything/We are everything we need by louloubaby92 / @louloubabys1992

(M, 5k, established relationship) Harry finally marries the love of his life. He's got the mating mark, he's got Louis' ring on his finger.

🌸 In the Heat Where You Lay by @marchessa

(T, 5k, mpreg) the one where Louis tries to balance work life and his marriage while he also has to protect Harry from himself since the omega is danger walking on two marvellously long legs at the best of times.

🌸 Oh Christmas Three by @tommokat

(M, 1k, mpreg) A birthday surprise goes awry. Louis doesn’t understand. Harry blames the oven.

- Rare Pairs -

🌸 in the hope of open hands (series) by @justanothershadeofblue

(T, 21k, OT5) Five times the pack is protective of omega Harry, and one time Harry protects them. Featuring Louis and Liam as alphas, Zayn and Niall as betas, and Harry’s as the band's lone omega.

🌸 That Don't Define Who You Are by @lululawrence

(NR, 7k, Harry/Louis/Nick Grimshaw)  the one where Harry is a licking omega with a broken bond who helps heal a fairly hapless beta with a folding bicycle. When Harry also meets the beta's alpha, things start to get... interesting.

[mysteriousauthor448]

What if Class of 09 Flipside was made by a Woman?

I liked Class of 09. I liked it's snappy dialogue, I liked it's social commentary of high school and women's experiences with creepy men and adulthood, I liked how it gave such a compelling main character where you know she's awful yet acknowledge that she has her reasons without justification. I like Class of 09, both the original and re-up. What I don't like though, is Class of 09: The Flipside.

Setting my personal disgust with the feet routes and the 'Palestinian slave trade' comment aside, the writing in Flipside just is completely different from the last 2. Instead of focusing on the biting social commentary of the woman experience, it instead prioritizes shock value with only some form of substance (e.g, jecka seeing nicole's suicide, jeffrey's death, the ending messages apart from the creator) And you know what else sucks? We never actually got to explore Jecka properly of who she is as a character, her relationships with her family, friends, former friends...Sure, we get doses of her life like her dad which does do what the game promised: Change how we saw the Class of 09 story before. We now understand why Jecka was terrified of the cop's yelling, not only because an powerful authority abusing his power but also experienced it before. See, this was the stuff I expected from Flipside. This was what the game should've prioritised in. Instead, it seemed like the creator would rather showcase his fetishes and spite people that don't like him or the game. From that there on, I keep thinking to myself: 'you know, this game would've been better had a woman wrote this.' But can they?

I'm a woman experienced high school before, even tried to fit the class of 09 writing style on my characters in my own personal time. Given how a lot of class of 09 fans are disappointed with the new game and I want to get into writing publically, I figure that I be the one to rewrite Class of 09 The Flipside in hopes of re-capturing the essence of the first two games alongside the game's intentions itself. Even though it's still in development, I've already outlined the routes/endings so far for you all to get a peek:

Route 1/Ending 1 - Invasion of MySpace: The foot route will be replaced by Jecka taking and making videos/pictures in order to make money after being fired from her job. Think of it like a late 2000s or early 2010s version of OnlyFans. This would help remain the social commentaries of men’s creepy behaviour to women alongside how their safety is affected. There’ll be an option of whether to go to the creepy man’s house or go home. If she goes home, she finds Nicole giving her dad a handjob with a dead expression. It ends with Jecka killing herself and implies that Nicole followed her too (not half naked though, just in regular clothes cuz I'm not a freak unlike someone)

Ending 2 - MurderSpace: If Jecka chose to go to the creepy man’s home, she gets murdered and placed like a doll in the man’s basement. 

Route 2/Ending 6 - Breaking the Wounded Heart: Jecka finds herself to work with Karen and Ari at Dominos. Overtime, they start to form a bond and Jecka herself starts to mature and finds Nicole to be unbearable. Jecka finally breaks off her friendship with Nicole and cuts forward to the future where Jecka currently lives a peaceful yet boring life, reflecting on the past with Nicole, wondering if she’s really better off without Nicole because while she’s now in a stable life without the chaos, it's the chaos that entertained her: Nicole entertained her. And now it’s all gone. But in the end, it suggests that things are much better with Nicole gone as it cuts to a phone beeping and Jecka looking down at it with a smile while Ari is by her side. Yes, this is the route where Jeckari is canon. I know this sounds too sweet for Class of 09 but I want it to still match the vibe with it being less shocking but more real in a way. Something too realistically depressing but still mundane. This is what I planned to be the saddest but best outcome of the game. The most real I should say. 

Ending 5 - Was it all worth it?: If Jecka chooses Nicole over her new friends, it ends with her and Nicole being homeless smoking drugs in an abandoned forest with Jecka reflecting on whether or not she made a good choice with Nicole before commenting on needing a Xanax to distract her from the regret and pain. 

Route 3/Ending 3 - Fuck Men!: Jecka gets into a relationship with a presumably kind-hearted gentleman. Nicole tries to warn her but Jecka won’t listen. She then is coerced by the man into doing sexual favours for his economic gain, making her become a sex trafficked victim.

Route 4/Ending 4 - Drunk Drive Delivery: Same route where Ari dies but instead the ending changed to Jecka being arrested for 6 months where the ending monologue would showcase her conflicted in anger and regret. Plus, it plays more to the idea of Jecka ‘dying at 21’ logic with being forced to work: adult party culture: that kind of thing. 

I'd be happy to hear any feedback or/and ideas for this rewrite.

[hannyoontify]

casual - yoon jeonghan [teaser]

member | childhood best friend!jeonghan x fem!oc

genre | fluff, angst and angst and lots of angst, childhood best friends to ????

teaser word count | 1k (full fic est. 12k)

synopsis | throughout her childhood, jeonghan was the one constant in jeong-ah's life. he was her rock and she was his, but there was always an unspoken tension between the two, something that made jeong-ah's stomach flutter and her pulse race. was it casual, like jeonghan said? or was there a possibility of being something more?

warnings | none (in teaser)

notes | inspired from this post i made a while back! bc this was inspired by events that happened irl, i had to make it an oc so that things made sense (like their names)

“You should ask me why we’re in here instead of sleeping like everyone else.”

I let out a sigh that ended in a laugh. “Okay, Jeonghan. Why are we in here instead of sleeping like everyone else?”

Jeonghan immediately straightened his back and turned his body to face me, and I mirrored his movements. The way he looked at me with shining, excited eyes reminded me of the same 5-year old who enjoyed pulling on my pigtails and playing hide-and-seek.

Despite growing a lot in the past decade together, there were still some parts of Yoon Jeonghan that never seemed to change. For example, that mischievous look on his face whenever he was about to do something he wasn’t supposed to. 

“Wait here.” Jeonghan disappeared outside and I couldn’t help but smile at his excited, almost child-like demeanor. Resting my head against the wall, I looked up and saw the sloped ceiling decorated with glow-in-the-dark stars.

The door soon opened again and Jeonghan reappeared with a single cupcake, a match, a candle, and two mini party hats. “I know we all got in trouble with our parents today so we can’t celebrate New Year’s, but I still wanted to do something for you. I know how much you love New Year’s celebrations.”

It was true. When all six of us had gotten in trouble earlier that evening because Jeonghan convinced all of us to try and help him set up a booby trap in his grumpy neighbor's backyard involving popping firecrackers, I was greatly disheartened when our parents decided that our punishment would be a bedtime of 9:30 and no New Year’s celebration.

I was particularly more upset than others because my parents had promised me a year ago that this New Year’s celebration would be the year where I finally got to try champagne.

“Jeonghan, I-” I faltered. I couldn’t find the words to describe how grateful I was to have him at that moment. 

Jeonghan scrambled to sit in the empty spot next to me. “You can thank me and be impressed later, just put this hat on. We only have a minute left.” He snapped on his own party hat before sliding its identical piece over my own head.

With a shaky hand, Jeonghan struck the match and lit the candle that was stuck atop the cupcake. We had made these cupcakes earlier today, with the help of our siblings. It had always been a tradition of ours.

My family would go over to the Yoon family’s house for the New Year’s and we would spend the night. Jeonghan, his older brother, and I were the older ones so we usually resorted to playing video games, board games, and baking while our younger siblings played with toys or watched TV. Our time together was always fun and a big highlight of my winter break every year.

But two years ago, when Jeonghan and I kissed in the summer, something changed. Our conversations became more stiff and awkward and he seemed to avoid me and my text messages more often.

When I consulted my mother about this situation (minus the kissing part), she had laughed and told me, “It’s because both of you are going through puberty now. It’s okay, it’s natural! Your relationship is going to return to normal in no time.”

Albeit it did take two years and a global pandemic for the two of us to be back on speaking terms again, but I was thankful to have my best friend back.

Jeonghan looked at me with a bright smile as he softly began to count down, his phone propped up against the wall so we could keep an eye on the clock. The single flame of the candle seemed to reflect the hundreds and thousands of stars that Jeonghan held within his eyes. His long lashes fluttered against his pale cheek bone and that tear-shaped mole on his right cheek that I had always been fond of. 

“Five… four…” I joined him in the count down, our hands holding the small cupcake together. 

I’d grown to accept the fact that Jeonghan wanted to pretend that kiss never happened. I did a lot of thinking and reflecting to realize that it was our silly pre-pubescent emotions that had gotten the best of us in that moment. It never meant anything.

“Two… one! Happy new year!” Jeonghan cheered. “One, two, three!”

11 years of friendship helped me to immediately recognize Jeonghan’s intent when he began counting again.

When he reached 3, the two of us blew at the single candle and the flame flickered for a moment before it disappeared, leaving a small trail of white smoke in its wake. Jeonghan pulled the candle out of the cupcake and I dipped my finger into the frosting and smeared it across my best friend’s cheek.

Jeonghan smiled with a mischievous glint in his eyes before dipping this thumb into the white frosting and spreading it across my forehead. “Simbaaaaa.”

We both erupted into a fit of childish giggles as I tried to smear another glob of dense, sweet frosting onto his face, but he dodged my hand successfully. But because Jeonghan was blessed by the genetic gods and had much longer arms than I did, he was able to reach over and smudge another spot of white frosting onto the top of my nose.

“Ewww!” I cried loudly.

Jeonghan tried to shush me but it was too late. We heard a door upstairs opening, and a pair of footsteps moving down the stairs. Jeonghan and I held onto each other with bated breaths and when we heard the footsteps slowly fade away, we let out a quiet sigh of relief.

“Maybe they’re just grabbing water or some-” As Jeonghan whispered into my ear, the doorknob of the small door rattled and opened, revealing Mrs. Yoon, half disheveled with a face mask.

I clamped a hand over my mouth to suppress the giggle that was threatening to erupt as Jeonghan fumbled to find the right words. “H-hi, mom. We were just-”

“Out. Both of you. Now.”

Uh oh.

PLEASEEE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK

and as always, reblogs and feedback is always appreciated ^-^

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

title: the hawthorne with the green eyes part 2

pairing: jameson hawthorne x (first person) reader

synopsis: a night full of fun and games with jameson hawthorne isn’t what you’d intended after going for a little midnight wander but you didn’t regret it

parts: part 1

warnings: none :)

a/n: thanks for the req 🤍🤍 hope you enjoy

tag list: @bewitchingkisses @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather @inmyheaddd @never-enough-novels @sweetlikeanangel @midiosaamor @sweetreveriee @emelia07 @f4iry-bell @zaraaaabear @thoughtdaughter3 @benny1989fredd @elysianwayy77 @maybxlle @sheisntyou @anintellectualintellectual @aleatorio1234 @adalia-jaycee @off-to-the-r4ces @lyra-kane @reminiscentreader @lyrakanefanatic @imaseabear @elizaa31 @loveinalocket

Strip bowling was exactly what the name said. A game of bowling where you remove an item of clothing if you failed to knock down any pins. It wasn’t difficult to get the hang of, it was difficult for me however to hang on to my clothes. I’d only bowled a few times in my life and on the occasions I had, I was pathetic at the game, but it was for fun then. Now it felt like it was for my dignity.

“Earrings one hundred percent count!” I exclaimed, shoeless, sockless and jumperless. I didn’t know I could be so bad at rolling a semi-weighted ball down an alley.

“No they don’t!” Jameson quipped, wagging his finger at me.

“I’m wearing earrings, like I’m wearing clothes, they count,” I replied stubbornly, unprepared to lose my top or trousers.

“No they don’t,” he shook his head sharply with a dangerous grin on his face.

“You just want me to take my top off,” I snapped, attempting to throw him off.

Colour touched his cheeks, “I want no such thing!”

“Liar,” I smiled mischievously.

“Maybe I am,” he shrugged, our roles reversing. Colour in my cheeks and a smile on his lips. My heart raced as I processed what he said. “But don’t lie,” he continued, “you’ve been trying to throw my game off the whole time so I take mine off.”

“I did no such thing!” I mirrored him, with a face of synthetic shock.

“Liar,” he smirked, his voice so dark I wanted to melt.

I laughed lightly.

“Do that again,” he murmured, gazing into my eyes.

“What?” I blurted out, confusion written all over my face.

“That thing, where you laugh and smile and your eyes light up,” he explained smoothly.

I felt a rising warmth in my face and it wasn’t a fever spiking, “why?”

“Because I like it,” he said, his voice so light, so airy there was almost no sound at all.

I took a step towards him and tilted my head up, our eyes glued together and I was unable to pull away. I could sense his hand nearing my waist and I didn’t tell him to stop. It was only then that I realised how badly I wanted this.

“Jameson I-“

“Hey guys!” Xander’s cheery voice is quick to snap me out of my lovelorn trance, “ooo it’s the new girl.”

“It is,” I coughed, wiping my hand awkwardly on my trousers as I stepped away from Jameson, “nice to see you again,”

“Are you playing strip bowling?” he continued, analysing his surroundings, before turning to Jameson with a rueful expression on his face, “without me? Again! Why am I even here anymore?”

“Sorry Xander,” he shrugged, composed as of two moments before nothing had happened at all between us, “I’ll catch you next time.”

“That’s what you said last time and now look,” he protested, “I mean would it kill you to ask me to play?”

“I said sorry,” Jameson defended arms in the air, as if he’s being arrested.

“It’s like that one scene in Frozen,” Xander sighed, “when baby Elsa shuts baby Anna out, you know the whole ‘do you wanna build a snowman’ sequence.”’

“Jameson how could you!” I gasped.

“Right!” Xander said, looking at me, “I knew I liked you.”

“I’m quite likeable I suppose,” I grinned.

“Tomorrow, three am strip bowling,” Jameson said to Xander, “my treat?”

“Throw in snacks and drink and you’re on,” he grinned, nodding.

“Done,” Jameson nodded, “hey Xand, on the topic of strip bowling, I do have a question for you.”

“Shoot,” he said, with

“Do earrings count in strip bowling?” he asked, shooting a sly smile my way.

I scrunched my nose up at him which only widened his pathetic smile.

“Yes,” Xander responded. My eyes widened and my face lit up. I was unable to form any competent words.

“Ha!” I exclaimed, pointing at Jameson.

“What?” Jameson protested loudly, his face flattened, his smile no more, “since when?”

“Don’t you remember when you pierced your left ear when you were thirteen because you thought it would make you look edgy?” Xander replied, “you wore an earring for 6 months and always insisted it counted in strip bowling!”

“You did what?” I gaped, trying so hard to suppress my giggles.

“Oh shut up,” he snapped at me and rolled his eyes, “thanks Xand.”

“You’re welcome,” he smiled.

“Embarrassing me through childhood stories is Nash’s thing though,” he replied.

“He let me trade for an hour,” Xander shrugged.

“So what’s he doing,” I asked.

“Creating a machine with odd qualities whilst simultaneously consuming several blueberry scones,” he said, “…obviously.”

“I should’ve seen that one coming,” Jameson sighed.

“You should’ve, do you even know your own brothers?” he replied in mock offence.

“Sometimes I don’t know,” he shrugged, “honestly you surprise when even when I think you can’t anymore.”

“Well I’ll see you two lobsters later, my eyebrows growing back to much, I need to singe it off again with something explosive!”

He rushed off before I could even respond. This house was mental, but in the best way possible.

I turned to Jameson confused, “Lobsters?”

“That’s what you’re asking about?” he almost laughed.

“Why lobsters?”

“I don’t know,” he replied, hands crammed into his pockets, green eyes making me hallucinate being in his arms even more.

I waited. I waited for him to pick up where we left off, for his hand to actually grip my waist, for our lips to tingle with each others taste but there was nothing. He did nothing. The silence is the loudest force in the room and it made my heartache.

“You used to wear an earring,” I grinned, changing to subject to heal my sinking heart.

“Let’s revisit the lobster debate,” he replied, turning rosy. It was cute.

“Oh no no no, you are not getting out of this one,” I said with a giggle.

“Where there’s a will there’s a way,” he countered, with a nonchalant shrug.

“So what kind of earring was it, diamond?” I continued, with a smile I knew would probably be annoying him.

“I’m not answering you,” he replied bluntly.

“That’s okay, I’ll just ask Xander, or Nash when they’ve switched back,” I mused.

“They won’t give up that kind of information to a practical stranger,” he scoffed.

“Don’t be so sure, I thought they surprised you every day,” I countered, quoting him.

“You’re annoying,” he scrunched up his nose.

“One of my many many talents,” I shrugged softly.

“Don’t get too cocky,” he warned, with the kind of Hawthorne smirk that was to die for.

I raised my eyebrows, “says the king of cockiness.”

“You’ve known me less than a day,” he deadpanned.

“My inference skills are also incredible,” I winked.

He laughed a little, “what should we do now then?”

“I don’t know, find something else to do?” I said.

“You don’t want to carry on with strip bowling?” he replied

“There won’t be much to strip in a minute,” I scoffed, gesturing to my limited clothing.

“That’s part of the game,” he replied, shooting me a lopsided grin.

“You’ve known me for less than a day,” I mocked.

Jameson glared at me playfully, “don’t quote me.”

“But it’s fun,” I whined, pouting slightly.

“You’re annoying,” he replied, messing up my hair.

“Another one of my many perks!” I responded, ducking under his arm whilst slapping him away.

“How about a game of poker?” he asked, the subject changing so fast I nearly got whiplash.

I’d never been that good at poker. I’d been taught when I was younger, I knew the basic rules but I hadn’t played in years. I was rusty. I remembered the last time I’d played, in a bar at fourteen. I’d snagged myself one hundred dollars. I was praying for the miracle to reensue.

“Are you a betting man Hawthorne?” I raised a challenging eyebrow, one he couldn’t ignore. Avery mentioned that he couldn’t turn down a challenge.

“All Hawthornes are betting men,” he said coolly.

“That sounds risky,” I grinned.

“Not if you don’t mind taking the risk,” he cocked his head to the side.

“Where are your playing cards?” I asked.

He picked up his jacket and shook the sleeve gently, a packet of cards falling into his open hand. I suppressed my shock.

“They’re up your sleeve,” I said dryly, “how original.”

“I think you mean impressive,” he replied.

“If it helps you sleep at night, then sure impressive,” I responded.

“You wound me,” he faked a wince, holding onto his heart.

“Blood goes well with your eyes,” I shrugged.

“Better make a deeper wound then,” he murmured, our faces dangerously close.

“Okay,” I bit my bottom lip, “…I beat you at chess a few hours ago.”

“Too deep princess,” he replied.

“Princess?” I questioned, my eyebrows knotting together.

“What’s wrong with it?” he shrugged.

“It’s not my name,” I said bluntly.

“My apologies Princess y/n,” he grinned, taking a step back to bow before me.

I smacked the back of his head, “you’re not as funny as you think you are.”

“I think you’ve already used that line,” he countered, standing up, tentatively touching the back of his head.

“Thought I’d reinforce it,” I said.

“Remind me to teach you how to slap,” he replied, trying to get under my skin, “that was pathetic.”

“I know it hurt you,” I smiled, “don’t be stubborn.”

“Poker,” he sing-songed waving the cards at me as we sat on the floor.

I crossed my legs and watched as he shuffled the cards. He’d probably done it thousands of times, seen as the motions were so fluid, so captivating. Like an illusion. He cracked one of his signature grins my way and then he dealt.

“This isn’t hawthorne poker is it?” I asked, as he finished up.

“No it’s just regular poker,” he replied, “for now.”

His smirk made my insides tingle and my head go a little fuzzy. We picked up our card and he analysed his set sharply. He was on it, he was ready. Unlike when he was playing chess, he was tense. His focus was harder, his intensity was stronger. He was like a raging fire containing in a bottle coated in kerosine.

It was time to play.

***

There was a flash. My head whipped around to look at the window and I dropped all my cards. Thumped rumbled in the distance and I approached the window to see if it was raining. A second flash.

“Lightning,” Jameson mused from behind me, making me jump.

“There’s a storm coming,” I whispered.

“That’s ominous,” he chuckles, his breath is so hot on the back of my neck that it makes me shiver.

“Let’s hope it isn’t our author’s use of pathetic fallacy,” I turned my head so our faces are close.

“Our author?” he furrowed his brows.

“Whoever writes the stories we’re living,” I replied.

“So that’s how you think of things?” he asked, sounding somewhere between amused and curious.

“The things we do, the people we meet, the places we see, it’s all meant to be, someone wrote it for us,” I smiled, “it’s prettier to think that it was in the stars but even if it’s not, it’s all written somewhere.”

“That must be on hell of a book,” he grinned, then said, “you dropped your cards.”

I turned to face him, “I know.”

“You had a straight flush,” he replied. It was true. I had done better than I’d ever done at poker, apparently the miracle workers were on my side today.

“I know,” I nodded.

“And I couldn’t tell,” he said slowly.

“I know,” I repeat, eyebrows raised.

“You were going to beat me,” he stated, “…again.”

First at chess, now at poker, he was getting sensitive.

“I-“

“Don’t say I know again,” he said quickly.

“Okay,” I replied.

“No one has ever beaten me at poker before,” he said.

“I must be extra special then,” I joked.

“I think you’re more than that,” he smiled.

My lips parted, “what?l

“I think you’re beautiful,” he murmured, the green of his eyes too addicting to turn away from.

I was caught off guard. Was this some sort of fantasy? Beautiful. He had just called me beautiful. My heart raced all of a sudden and fireworks went off in my brain. I was too tongue tied in shock and joy to reply.

“Thank you?” I managed to say after a few beats.

No. No. No. No. I cursed myself. I didn’t mean to say that, like that. That wasn’t how it was meant to sound. If there had been a table near by I would’ve whacked my head on it a good few times.

“Tell me you feel it to,” Jameson pleaded, his void a low hum, “whatever the hell this is between us.”

“Oh I can feel it,” I replied, my voice quiet, seductive.

“That makes this difficult,” he exhaled slowly.

“Why?”

“Because I can’t trust myself with you,” he admitted, looking into my eyes, his expression so pained it made me ache.

“Then trust me,” I insisted, taking his hands into mine.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he chuckled lightly, “in the best possible way. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“Funny you seem to be doing the same with me,” I giggled.

His face suddenly grew solemn, a look I hadn’t seen a lot of his face, “you don’t want this with me, I promise you I’m dangerous.”

“I like dangerous,” I shrugged.

“Target on my back, run into fire for fun, love too hard kind of dangerous,” he clarified, studying my face for any sign of me changing my mind.

“I’ll reevaluate that statement then,” I said, pausing.

He waited, so still, so quiet that I questioned whether he was breathing.

“I love dangerous,” I whispered, my eyes lighting up.

He only smiled at me then leaned down, cupping my face in his palms. His scent washed over me, delicate and alluring. His lips neared mine and I closed my eyes. The first kiss was gentle and sweet, it was the soft kind of kiss that every girl dreams her first kiss would be. But after that first few sweetened kisses, I got hungrier, I wanted not just to taste him but to indulge in him.

I kissed him harder with a new added passion and he realised I wasn’t messing around, that I wasn’t afraid. He delivered back, not worried to be rougher with his kisses. We moved with the emotion and the intensity of the moment. A fiery feeling ignited my heart. Love. My back hit the wall and his hands found their way to my waist. Pinned by a frenzy of kisses, I suddenly remembered I needed to breathe. It seemed Jameson did to. We pulled away, chests both heaving, hearts both racing.

“Lobsters,” I murmured breathlessly.

“What?” he asked, the most adorable confusion plastered across his soft features.

“Lobsters,” I smiled like an idiot, “they mate for life.”

a/n: people who actually know how to play poker, don’t come at me, I know I need to learn!!

warning you guys now there will be no part 3 😊😊 sorry

thank you for reading 🤍🤍

THE JAMESON CARD BETTER BE HERE SOON 👹👹 IM MANIFESTING IT WITH THIS FIC

TIG masterlist

[corviiids]

ooh idk if you've talked about this one before, but what about goro akechi for the kira game?

HI RAPS

verdict: im prepared for this to be controversial, but consider this: ive never been wrong in my whole life. i think goro akechi could beat kira, but i don't know if he'd be happy with the outcome.

could goro akechi identify light yagami

im answering this one first because i want to make a point about this. listen. i feel like due to akechi's whole Plot where he Fakes Solving Cases For Clout, people forget that he actually is a really smart person and a good detective. like, he's not the super prodigy genius he pretends to be, but he's not a fake detective. he faked solving those shutdown cases for extremely specific reasons:

he was the fucking perpetrator so it served him to take control of the public understanding of the investigation into them and control the narrative; and

those cases were particularly high profile and would have been impossible to solve by anyone else, so 'solving' them would catapult him into notoriety faster than anything else - it was a clout speedrun, which is what he and shido needed.

but there are numerous other cases and puzzles in various bits of p5 media that he solves without faking them, plus we see plenty of occasions where he demonstrates his high intellect. the casino is a great example because i feel like the game takes that palace as an opportunity and relishes in letting you know what akechi can really do. the anime and the mementos mission manga both have subplots where akechi solves / helps to solve legitimate mysteries. and of course the famed unused mementos request in p5r which i think about all the time. it's kind of a shame that akechi's fake cases end up overshadowing all his real ones when he's a legitimately competent detective, even if he's not the impossible prodigy he projects as and even if he's nowhere near the level L is.

of course there's also the obvious one! while we are all aware that the phantom thieves are the least subtle people on the planet, and all ren's confidants eventually work it out just because he's so deeply unsubtle about it, it is still the case akechi identified them as persons of interest very early on, before pretty much anyone else (partly by intellect, partly by his metaverse advantage, i'll get to that). that's relevant because i think the phantom thieves are reasonably analogous to kira in the sense that they're utilising supernatural methods to target individuals which are untraceable via ordinary means.

now i dont think akechi could identify kira nearly as quickly or cleanly as L could, but i do think that if you placed him in charge of the investigation with all the investigative resources of the prosecutor's office / police department, he would be able to identify light as at least a person of interest in a reasonable amount of time, for two main reasons

light is more sneaky than the phantom thieves, but also makes the same kinds of identifiable mistakes that the PT do (eg targeting people in a set area, operating in such a way that it's possible to identify him as a student, being easily provoked, etc); and

unlike L, akechi has supernatural powers.

which brings me to:

could goro akechi intuit the mechanics of the death note

no, i don't think so, not on his own. but he wouldn't need to, because he has access to the metaverse.

we're back at the universe question. i think to fairly answer 'could they beat kira' questions we have to give our detective character all the advantages they have access to in their home universe, which means that akechi not only has his intellect but also has the metaverse, his persona, and his experience traversing the collective unconscious. (by the way, here's my post about what if light yagami had a palace.)

which means that once goro akechi has identified light as a person of interest, not even needing to ID him as a particular suspect, he can check whether the metanav gives him a hit. then he could infiltrate light's palace / find him in mementos (let's be real it's gonna be a palace) and find out the rest of what he needs to know from there. the metaverse isn't only useful for changing hearts and causing shutdowns. shadows are very forthcoming about their evil plans. all akechi would need to do is find light's shadow, and he'd find out everything he needs to know about the death note and kira's new world.

(follow-up question for fun: if akechi didn't have the metaverse, would he be able to intuit the mechanics of the death note? i think that akechi would ultimately get to the same point as L, namely, that kira needs a name and a face, but the specifics of 'magic murder notebook' would escape him. so no.)

could goro akechi survive

i think this would really depend on the context in which this investigation is taking place, but broadly i think it's likely? not certain, but it's likely. it depends on how reactive light is and depends on how well akechi reads the kira situation early on.

akechi is pretty shrewd, with the exception of major blindspots where someone he has a grudge against is concerned (hence why he's vulnerable to shido and to ren's plots). but i think kira is dangerous enough that akechi would be on pretty high alert from the start. in canon he's cunning enough to make false statements to the media to trick the thieves into thinking he's at least partially on their side / not an unambiguous enemy (that's the same strategy used in romance ha ha ha) so i think once akechi identified a person of interest he wouldn't be stupid enough to publicise that he's closing in on them and would probably start leaking false theories to make light think he's completely off the trail - after all, unlike L, akechi's name and face are completely public, so it would be way too risky to make light feel cornered. it would be smartest to play up the shallow celebrity angle to make think light he's just a dumbass idiot talking a big game.

i think akechi would bank on kira's MO of only killing criminals. after all, light didn't try to kill L until L deliberately goaded him into it - it's unlikely that akechi would have a reason to think that light would try to kill him just for investigating. up until that point kira has been masquerading as an icon of justice, so it would (and canonically did) take a lot to make kira veer from that ideology into killing investigators just because they threatened him. however, it's not impossible given nobody really knows anything about kira at that stage, so while akechi might make it public information that he's investigating kira, he wouldn't let on that he thought light was a threat.

then he could either:

initiate a surprise raid on light to get the death note based on information gained from light's shadow - risky because if it goes wrong light will kill him, but this will net him the most glory

(pre-phantom thieves) kill light - stops the murders but means akechi doesn't get clout for solving the kira murders single-handedly, not preferable

(post-phantom thieves) change light's heart - akechi also doesn't get credit and would be reluctant besides

so it depends how we're defining success i guess. could akechi beat light by killing light? likely yes, by simply causing a shutdown before putting light on notice that akechi was on his trail at all. could akechi beat light by apprehending light? maybe, it depends, it's risky. could akechi beat light by changing his heart? only if the thieves are involved.

so i guess the answer is yes i think akechi has the capacity to beat kira but probably not in a way that akechi himself is satisfied with and it wouldn't be a sure thing. it could go either way.

[hiraethwa]

to be loved is to be known

one; you are not meant for me // but the heart wants what it wants

<the collection — to be loved is to be known>

pairing. kageyama x reader

cw. angst, timeskip, setter!reader, one-sided pining, blasphemy, currently married!reader, fluff if you squint (no adultery)

wc.4.2k

featured track. the 6th summer by PLAVE

my heart knew it was you from the moment we met. but you were never mine to begin with.

kageyama tobio is a logical person. his teammates would describe him as a mechanically precise monster who can effectively deconstruct opponent plays and use his insights to counter strategize their own attacks. a highly rationale driven individual, known to be impassive off court. 

in his high school years, he has watched his senpais yearn after their manager, even hinata, falling for a classmate in their third year, the relationship ending in tears when they broke it off because hinata was leaving to brazil. he has seen love take precedent and how it always seem to break the hearts of those involved. 

but he never understood why someone would put so much of themselves on line to love someone who could choose to walk away at any point in time. 

unlike most people’s beliefs, kageyama isn’t heartless, or emotionless, or indifferent to love. after all, he loves volleyball just fine. it’s just—he figures, why love someone, when they always leave you behind, whether voluntarily or otherwise?—why love someone, when he can choose to devote himself to volleyball which will never abandon him?

and then you came into the picture, wholly unaccounted for. a fellow setter, a true rival, and he found himself wanting to fly with you. someone who understands his pivotal role in his team’s offense, the control tower, as he had once said to hinata. someone who obsesses over every little detail as he does.

at first, he had attributed the feeling of recognition to meeting a true rival in you as a fellow setter. that feeling that he had yearned for as a middle schooler watching the senpai he looked up to, oikawa-san, serve and set like a god. the connection he missed due to rivalry, and the connections he severed unknowingly to be the team that stays on the court the longest. 

it couldn’t have been love, because if it was, then he would also be in love with hinata like everyone keeps saying. besides, why would he fall for someone who is in a relationship?

it would be immoral to fall for you, he reasons, you are dating kuroo-san.

he quickly learns that despite the warm demeanor you have when it comes to volleyball, you keep everyone at an arm’s length outside of it. he notices the line you draw between your professional career and your personal life, and he is careful to stay on the right side. 

he allows you to set the boundaries that you are comfortable with, keeping to the practice meets that became a monthly routine where you exchange your latest updates on your plays and offer pointers on improving, dissecting each other’s games that quickly spilled over into its own afternoon meetups over coffee. 

slowly but surely, it turns from a fan and her idolized player into two equals analyzing and plotting improvements for their next game strategies. 

of course, kageyama shares the admiration that comes from picking your brain on his weekly calls with hinata. 

“i don’t know how i didn’t think of that before oumae-san suggested it—” he stops himself as he catches hinata giving him a look of sympathy, snapping at the older boy, “what?”

“kageyama, do you know how many times i have heard you talk about oumae-san in the past months?”

“huh? why would i be keeping count?” he frowns at him through the screen.

hinata nods in pity, “exactly. i don’t know either because you are constantly saying oumae-san this, oumae-san that.”

kageyama averts his eyes from his friend, feeling the tips of his ears warming under his inspection. “i don’t talk about her that much.” it comes out in an unconvincing mumble.

“you know i would support you no matter what you do, but oumae-san is getting married to kuroo-san soon. i don’t think it’s good for you to keep pining after a soon-to-be married woman.”

he wishes he could snipe the orange haired boy through the screen, only because he is right. he drags a hand over his face in frustration. damn him, he knows that he is falling for you, but he is utterly helpless in stopping himself. 

you’re a dreamy sunny day that he wishes to bask in forever. too bad kageyama is the snow storm that sweeps through winter. 

kageyama tobio well knows that he is truly hopeless from the moment he realized that he fell for you, the mind behind the name. 

he is in love with the way your mind works to find counters against your opponent’s defense and open up a path for your team’s attacks. the way you find just the perfect moment to do a setter dump, catching the other team unaware. the way you dissect and analyze plays calmly during timeouts. the way you listen intently to him when he speaks.

the worst part is that you are not even trying to make him fall for you. you are just being your perfectly normal self, keeping all your interactions at a respectful and professional level—probably more professional than respectful at this point, since you would give him shit for his unforced errors. (actually, he also likes that you keep him accountable, unlike most people who would brush them off as mistakes that happen sometimes.)

that gods-forsaken line between your professional and personal lives now more solid than before as a married woman. 

and yet, he had fallen for you without even trying. 

he had tried to follow hinata’s advice to move on from you, to quote him directly—“stop putting her on a pedestal. she’s only human, she is bound to have something that irks you.”

he tried, really, to find your faults in your interactions. the tiny crease between your eyebrows as you think hard about the game you are exchanging analysis on, the small pout on your lips as you work through possible counterattacks. your dry reply when he says something dumb, or the excitement in your eyes when recounting a strategy (that you both came up with together) that worked. 

it’s not working. in fact, it’s achieving quite the opposite of moving on from you.

he curses hinata shoyo for his shit advice as he watches your practice match against france from the vip section in the stands. something feels off, he thinks, finding that you are not landing evenly on both feet when you set to your spikers. 

he realizes a moment too late that you are heavily favoring your left foot over the other just as you land awkwardly on your ankle—your shrill yelp sounding from the court. 

kageyama jumps to his feet worriedly, hands gripping the back of the seat in front of him as he peers over to you. he reminds himself that he is just another professional acquaintance of yours, forcing himself to take a seat as your coach and teammates rush over to you. 

you don’t play for the rest of the game. 

later that night, upon finding no news from any media outlets about the severity of your injury after scouring the internet, he starts typing out a message to you—how are you doing?

no, that won’t do, he shakes his head, deleting the small letters on his phone before typing out another message—is your ankle alright?

he pauses for a few moments, wondering if he would be crossing a boundary to inquire about your wellbeing. i probably shouldn’t, he decides against it for the better, choosing to believe (or hope) that no news is good news. 

he erases the message to your number, letting the device fall next to him as he puts his arm over his forehead. fuck, what am i doing? 

you have a loving husband to go home to, who will take good care of you. there’s no place for someone as removed as him to be worrying after you.

after all, gods are meant to be worshiped from a distance, and you would fit right in next to the ones who torment him so. 

to his dismay, his delusions of relief only lasted a few days. 

kageyama tobio knows something is wrong the moment he finds the court empty on the third friday of the month. the court that you live and breathe on. the court that he always finds you practicing your serves while waiting for him. 

his heart catches in his throat as he rings your number, holding his breath as he desperately hopes that you are okay. 

you pick up on the seventh ring. “kageyama-san? ah, sorry. i forgot to tell you that i won’t be able to make it to practice today.”

“it’s fine, kuroo-san. i was at your match on sunday. are you doing alright?” you both stubbornly stick to using formalities when addressing each other—kuroo-san to remind himself that you are so far beyond his reach that he can just forget about it. (he doesn’t.)

“oh, that? i’m fine,” kageyama breathes out a sigh of relief from hearing your words. relief that comes too soon, as it is quickly followed by your strangled yelp coming from the other end.

“that didn’t sound like you are fine.” he realizes you must be saying that just to keep him from worrying, any rational thought flying out of his mind. 

he had seen kuroo-san, your husband in passing at work just this morning, but if you’re injured, and still stubbornly moving around, or worse, even keeping it from your own husband—“send me your address, i’ll be over soon.”

kageyama ends up having to call in the team physician to look at your horribly swollen ankle, stuffing his hands in his pockets to keep himself in line. the tips of his fingers twitch every so often when you wince at her touch as she inspects your ankle. 

he tells himself that you are so, so strictly off limits. 

though, he makes the mistake of asking about kuroo-san, your husband. he wishes that the words never left his lips as his eyes catch the microexpression that betrays your emotions. you quickly brushes off his question with a joke, as if you have had plenty of practice.

he barely keeps that haze of anger in check as he calls your husband after excusing himself for the night and wishing you a speedy recovery, not allowing himself to ponder on the ‘what could have been’s—of how he would never put work above you, especially if you’re hurt.

he politely explains your situation to your husband, and yet kuroo has the audacity to sound offended at his request to spend more time taking care of you in your condition as an outsider.

“she’s my wife, i know how to take care of her.”

then act like it. kageyama bites back the retort, knowing that it wouldn’t help matters—that it might actually add to your burden instead of easing it. 

he bristles when kuroo tells him that he has to go finish up some work before he could leave, mystified as to why kuroo would ever put work above you. 

kageyama pockets his phone and lets his arm hang lax by his side, shaking his head at himself. it’s not his place to worry over you, much less tell kuroo how to be a husband. 

the gods have judged him, and deemed him unworthy of you. 

kageyama tobio knows your serve routine by heart. a tuck of your hair over your left ear, then your right, followed by a swish of your ponytail to confirm that it is holding securely. fingers smoothing over the hem of your jersey. your left hand outstretched with the ball in front of you, you would lick over your top lip, teeth catching your bottom lip before you launch the ball upwards and forwards, body coiling into a spring that shoots the ball out across the net.

he knows the extra time you take to warm up your right wrist due to a prior injury. the overly bubbly personality that you hide behind when you are upset or disappointed. the modest smile that is dazzling (he swears that you really do sparkle when you smile like that), not because you’re pulling your charm out, but because you are not. 

your unpretentious smile that comes from the heart still guts him each time becoming less common, to his disappointment. and gods, does he try to coax that smile from you when he sees you, would give you the entire universe with all the planets and stars in it if he could, just to see the unfiltered crooked smile from you. the one you claim to hate because it reveals the singular dimple on your cheek. 

he also knows that you love flowers, deduced from the bouquet of peonies on your lockscreen and the different floral arrangements that you post to your social media each week. and your order at the coffee shop that you get without fail—latte with lavender and honey instead of simple syrup.

he knows all the details he picked up from his observations in the time he has known you, details that he absolutely adore, while being hyper cognizant of the line drawn between you. 

he knows, lives at the edge of that boundary drawn by you, enforced by him. his iron grip on his own actions to hold the line, keeping his desires as they are—a daydream of a world where the gods favored him. 

kageyama knows this all too well. 

and because of that, he knows something is not right when your contact lights up his phone screen with an incoming call on a friday night. 

your number is saved under kuroo y/n, a reminder of where he stands in your life. he addresses you as kuroo-san, another constant reminder to stand firm on his side of the line. 

he hesitates, but his index finger swipes across the screen, accepting your call before his logical side could stop it.

your voice crackles across the line before he could get a word in. “you finally picked up!” 

he could just picture the pout on your face (that also appears during practices when you mess up), but it was the childish whimsy that accompanies your slurred words that dusts his cheeks in pink—the intimacy in your tone that he suspects is not meant for his ears.

“i miss you,” you admit softly, sadly, in a tone that makes his heart clench in pain. as much as he would like to give you comfort, anything you ask him for, really, he knows he’s not the one you’re really looking for. 

“yuki, give that back!” you complain, sounding further away from your phone. another female voice comes into the call, “no, is that kuroo tetsuro? that asshole!” 

kageyama thinks he should say something to clear up the situation, but the words die in his throat—what could he say, really?

“wait, what? kageyama?” the other female mumbles to herself, and kageyama assumes that whoever that yuki is returns the phone to you as your sweet voice calls out to him again. 

“are you done with work yet? you’ve been so busy again lately…” you trail off, “do you think we will go see the cherry blossoms outside of tokyo next year? you promised we would this year, but something came up with your work.”

he really doesn’t want to jump to conclusions about your marriage, but he would be lying if your words don’t make him upset on your behalf. it makes his blood boil to even think about his senpai prioritizing work over his wife. from what he witnessed when you were injured, and now this—you begging for his time, it is exceeding hard to believe otherwise. 

why would he choose work over you? he tries not to read too much into the situation, but—if that asshole is really making you live on scraps of his love, why are you still with him? 

oh right, because you love kuroo tetsuro. 

if kageyama was in his shoes, he would never make you ask him for his time. in fact, he would make sure you feel like the most loved person in the entire world. what do you even see in him— 

he shakes himself out of his intrusive thoughts, wondering instead if he made the right decision to give kuroo a push back then; if he just contributed to dragging out your situation rather than helping. he reminds himself that you had looked happier in the following weeks, until now.

he opens his mouth to say something, but your friend beats him to it. “say, you should come pick y/n up! it’s pretty late and she’s so plastered.”

finally, he stumbles to his words. “kuroo-san, i don’t think—”

he isn’t sure if you hear him over the loud music in the background and your friend’s insistence for him to come pick you up. “i’ll send the address to you, please come get her before she drinks herself to death.” 

he wonders if she knows. 

it isn’t long before he pulls up at the address you sent him, parking at a street lot that opened up as he drove by, lucky him. kageyama feels out of place among the partygoers in the club, dressed in sweats and an oversized hoodie over his plain t-shirt. 

he wonders if you would be disappointed to see him instead of your husband. your good for nothing husband who is apparently still at work on a friday night.

kageyama tells himself he shouldn’t feel as crestfallen as he does at that thought. just as he shouldn’t feel the skip in his heartbeat when his eyes land on you, or the urge to pull you into his arms and kiss the top of your head. 

or the protective instinct that kicks in as he gets closer, sensing the exhaustion in your demeanor, wishing to shield you against everything that the world throws at you. 

he really, really shouldn’t feel the relief that floods his veins at the gratitude in your eyes—not disappointment, he notes—and the gentle smile that graces your lips at his approach. that smile that he loves so much, knocking the breath out of him, reflecting on his own features that are normally set in a disinterested scowl. 

gods, is there anything he wouldn’t do to keep that smile on your face?

“tobio, you came.” his name leaving your lips for the first time, as you fling yourself into his arms with such familiarity that he has never seen from you. it takes every inch of his willpower to not crumble to the floor before you, beg you to let him love and worship you for the goddess you are. 

it takes every shred of his resolve to keep the words from overflowing past that cursed line. to keep his features neutral, intercept the storm ripping through his winter from touching your pleasant spring. 

so he holds on to you awkwardly, savoring the rare moment of affection, mumbling into your hair, “you called.”

“mmm, we’re celebrating my birthday! do you want a drink?” he releases you first, letting his arms fall to his sides. you tug him towards the bar before another woman stops you, disapproval set in the lines of her face.

“i let you out of my sight to go to the bathroom for a few minutes, and you’re already making a beeline to the bar.” this must be the yuki on the phone then. her eyes flicker behind you to kageyama. “this is kageyama?” 

“kageyama tobio, nice to meet you.” he manages a stiff nod.

“tsuda yuki. thanks for coming on a short notice, i appreciate it. she really doesn’t want to leave, and kuroo isn’t picking up.” yuki keeps a firm grip on you, tugging you in the opposite direction—to the exit, narrowing her eyes when you pout at her. 

you seem to have mellowed out since kageyama arrived, the sadness behind your eyes just a tad lighter if the strobing lights weren’t playing tricks on her. oh, whatever works, works. it’s almost two in the morning, and she thanks the gods that you are finally willing to go. 

yuki exchanges a few words with kageyama before they come to a mutual decision to have him drop you home since he has a car and she has to call a cab in the opposite direction of where you live. 

“be good for kageyama, please?” she basically begs you to be on your best behavior as her cab shows up. you’re clinging onto her like your life depends on it.

“we’ll be fine, tsuda-san.” kageyama tries to assure her, but she shoots him a look of disbelief. 

“you don’t know her like i do. she is… really out of hand when she has alcohol in her system. the last time she was this drunk, she tried to—” the cab honks at her to hurry up. “are you sure you got this?”

“yeah, i’ll have her call you when i drop her off.”

tsuda-san is right. kageyama comes to that conclusion after spending 15 minutes trying to get you into the passenger seat and checking that you put your seatbelt on.

he breathes a sigh of relief, focusing on the road ahead as you finally settle down, preoccupied with the buildings and bright lights that pass by in a blur. strangely enough he finds that he didn’t mind it one bit, having his hands full with taking care of a drunk you. he actually found this wild, unchecked side of you endearing.

he gently shakes you awake once he parks the car. it seems like most of the alcoholic effects have worn off during the drive as you lean onto him for support in the elevator, yawning and rubbing your tired eyes. 

your apartment is dark, devoid of life as you enter, kicking your shoes off in the entryway, mumbling a tadaima, mostly to yourself. kageyama would have missed it if he was not following closely behind you, making sure you don’t trip and fall over. 

his heart aches at the thought of you coming home to an empty apartment, your tadaima announcing that you’re home unmet with its other okaeri half from your husband to welcome you back. 

“make yourself at home, tobio,” you curl up on the couch, putting on a travel vlog on the tv on a low volume before dialing yuki’s number, letting her know you’re home safely. 

“hey, why don’t you change into more comfortable clothes? let me get you some painkillers. where is the medicine cabinet?” he nudges your shoulder. you lean back against the headrest, pouting at him again. if only you knew the effect you have on him.

“i’m lazyyy.” 

kageyama attempts to reason with you. “c’mon, you can go to bed right after too.”

“too tired to move.” you cross your arms at him. 

“kuroo-san…” he sighs. 

“why do you always call me that? my name is y/n, you know.”

“y/n, would you please change into pajamas?”

“nope.”

“what can i do to change your mind?”

your grin splits your face from ear to ear. “you could carry me to the room.”

“what—” he rubs the spot between his eyebrows. “okay, fine.”

kageyama scoops you into his arms effortlessly, and can't help but notice how the shape of you fits perfectly against him. your eyelashes flutter close as you rest your head against his shoulder, inhaling deeply and exhaling the spooled stiffness in your frame. 

the fullness in his heart lasts less than a minute. he catches himself staring at you when you meet his gaze, fingers smoothing against his brow as your feet touch the floor. “you’re going to get wrinkles before your time, tobio.”

he scurries back to the living room, leaving it at that. his cheeks are colored again, his back against the shut door of your bedroom, trying to calm his racing heartbeat. 

“stop it.” he mutters, more so at himself than anything, looking through the cabinets in the kitchen for some painkillers, and filling two tall glasses of water for you. he knocks on your door after a few minutes, easing the door open carefully when you tell him he’s clear to enter. 

he hands you the pills in one hand, water glass in the other. “drink up.” 

kageyama notices the melancholy in your eyes resurfacing as you lean back against your pillow on your side, hand outstretched towards the empty half of the queen-sized bed, but he wisely chooses to leave it be. 

you squeeze your eyes shut, turning on your side away from him. “good night, tobio. thanks for coming.”

“of course.” anything for you. kageyama tucks you under the blanket, fingers smoothing over the duvet, itching to run them through your hair. he curls his hand into a fist and shoves it in his pocket before his body betrays him. 

“happy belated birthday, kuroo-san.” he whispers into the darkness, leaving the full glass of water by your bed, and quietly closes the door behind him. he turns off all the lights in your apartment and washes up the other glass, fighting the strong urge to check on you when he hears a muffled whimper coming from your bedroom. 

you probably don’t want him to see you like that. 

he forces his feet out the front door. and a smile onto his face the next day when he sees you with puffy eyes and no memories of the night before. 

he really, really wishes he met you first. 

kageyama tobio curses the gods that put him on this trajectory. 

taglist. @hatsukeii @daisy-room @soulfullystarry @kitsune-kita @bakery-anon @hiraethwrote @thechaosoflonging @bakingcuriosity (open! askbox for taglist)

a/n. the pining, the heartache, the devotion; kageyama you will be loved </3 y'all i love him so MUCH i actually don't have the words to describe it... tobio brainrot all day every day <33 please expect slow updates!

awaiting updates? browse the library while waiting

if you liked this, please consider leaving a like, comment, rb or ask <3 (perhaps i enjoy breaking hearts a little too much)

[reallyhatethiswebsite]

This is also me shamelessly submitting another request alongside my very NSFW one: could we get Raphael being there while Tav gives birth?

Tav paced back and forth, hands resting on her swollen belly. Each time a contraction tore through her she would grimace, bend forward as much as possible, and bear it with whatever dignity she scrounged up. When the pain passed, she’d resume pacing.

“Mistress,” said the Infernal physician, “perhaps you should lay down -”

“No,” barked Tav. “I don’t want to lay down.”

“So you intend to wear a trench into my floors instead?” Drawled Raphael.

“Yes,” replied Tav, glaring daggers at him.

“Mistress,” the physician tried again, “it would be easier for both you and the child if you -”

“I’m not bloody laying down,” growled Tav. “I’ve been laying down for the last three months of pregnancy. I need to move around or I’m going to cut this baby out of my stomach myself.”

“You won’t change her mind,” Raphael said lightly, “she’s a stubborn creature. She’ll do things her way until she simply cannot any longer.”

The physician sighed, rubbing her eyes.

Tav’s waters had broken several hours ago – much to poor Haarlep’s horror. Raphael was away on business at the time, but as soon as word reached him that his first offspring was about to be born, he’d burst back into the house, physician in tow. The birthing room had been ready for a few days, Tav slightly exceeding her due date, so the three had sequestered inside. Now it was simply a waiting game. The physician hovered nearby. Raphael sat in a plush, comfy chair, seeming to all the world as indifferent and relaxed as usual. Only the occasional twitch of his tail gave away his potential anxiety.

It felt like the entire House of Hope, even every wailing soul within the walls, were holding their breaths. Teetering on the edge of anticipation for the ushering in of a new era: the birth of a prince.

“Ah…!” Tav stopped in her tracks. Hissed as fresh, furious pain wracked her. Different, sharper than before. It didn’t fade. “I think…argh, I think he’s coming…!”

The physician touched Tav’s belly, felt lower, between her thighs. “Yes. You’re open enough. I feel his head. You need to get into the water.”

The physician helped Tav out of her sweat-soaked nightdress and in to the bathing pool of hot water. Raphael watched intently, his onyx and ember eyes never blinking, as Tav – teeth gritted – eased herself into a sitting position, knees up and apart. The water and its soothing magic helped, but the baby wanted out, now. Demanding, just like his father, and damn was she feeling it.

“Gods…he finally decides he’s ready and he’s just going to…to rip right through me…” Tav panted. Curled her fists. Cried out as a violent contraction signalled the end, and the beginning.

“Start pushing,” instructed the physician. Tav groaned, a sound that morphed into a dull scream. Raphael stood up, crossed the room, standing close. His tail thrashed wildly but his expression remained neutral. Tav gave him a foul, pained look.

“This is your fault,” she snarled, slapping her palms on the sides of the bath. “I’ll kill you for this, I swear it.”

“Of course you will, darling,” purred Raphael.

He was not indifferent to her suffering, she knew. Part of him enjoyed it. That she was agonising to bring their – his – son into life only made her pain taste sweeter. It was the simple truth of Raphael’s nature. Something Tav had accepted long ago. Birthing this baby was the scariest thing she’d ever done, scarier than coming to terms with how she felt for a diabolical devil, that she was willing to give him her soul and her heart. Even facing down the Netherbrain didn’t compare. She was hurting and she was frightened, but Raphael was there, strong and assured and steady, and Tav knew she could get through it.

Not without one Hell of a fuss, however.

“GET THIS DAMN THING OUT OF ME!” She bellowed between screams.

“Keep pushing!” Yelled the physician.

“What do you think I’m doing?!” Tav roared back.

“Push, Tav,” Raphael intoned. Commanded. “Let our son’s life begin.”

Eventually, amidst the blood and pain and chaos, it did. A wrinkled, wet and wailing infant was placed on Tav’s chest and she, exhausted and delirious, loved him instantly and irrevocably.

“Healthy,” declared the physician, “and strong. Very strong.”

Tav tiredly adjusted her baby, who latched onto her nipple and began to suckle. His thin, ropey little tail curled. Raphael looked down at them, smug and preening with pride. He would never be the type to offer her his hand to squeeze for comfort, or become overly emotional and adoring of his new son, but he was there. He stayed. And those things mattered more to Tav than her pride would ever let her admit.

[ghouldtime]

*slides into the DMS*

S O. What does social anxiety for König look like through your fantastic characterization then? 👀

(Love your Alone operator series btw. Got me on the edge of my seat with each chapter!!)

(Thank you!! 💚💚💚 I'm so glad you're enjoying :D you all have been so so sweet with it and Im over the MOON so many people have liked it)

To answer this question I'm going to have to be a biiig yapper and explain why I think of him the way I do

Going to say this to start, but I'm going with the true fact that König is indeed diagnosed with social anxiety - anything else I'm saying is based off of my personal interpretation of how he acts in game as a disclaimer

I'm also going to state that personally, the König I write is in his lower to mid 40's. Sorry not sorry, I don't see him as a young dude. Especially not when it's pretty much agreed upon that he's a colonel. So he's had a SIGNIFICANT amount of life experience, and a significant amount of time to work on himself and have introspection.

To me, it makes the most sense that he was diagnosed with social anxiety earlier on in his childhood since it was significantly more obvious when he was younger. Something that severe wasn't unnoticed by those around him because some of them did care about him. It's also stated he's suffered from severe social anxiety throughout his life so that's how I took it.

I personally go with he grew up in a more rural town in his homeland of Austria, which meant there weren't exactly others around during the first few years. "Go play with the neighbors kids" didn't really work when there weren't neighbors around. It was mainly him and his parents and an occasional relative over.

What could be brushed off as initial shyness clearly couldn't be anymore when he finally was enrolled in school.

Even on the first day when it's "introduce yourself to everyone", he fucked that up so monumentally it'll be engraved forever in his hall of shameful memories that he thinks about late at night. School was an utter nightmare, quite frankly, from moment one. The whole situation was too much, too stressful, and too different from the life he had at home. He flat out refused to get up and present in front of the class and wouldn't talk in group projects just for the fear of embarrassing himself. At that time, he was hitting all the indicators for social anxiety like they're the targets he shoots at today.

He missed out on a lot of interaction with other kids initially because of how awkward he was - and having any form of anxiety never helps in social situations. Talking to others wasn't something that came naturally and his own panic amplified it tenfold. Most times, he'd either pretend he didn't hear them, avoid them, or stray as far to the edge of the group as possible to avoid it. Unfortunately this made him an easy target because kids are RUTHLESS and turned him into even more outcast as well which only worsened it.

School always sucked for him due to that, despite the fact that he was a smart kid. No amount of smarts could save you from social persecution when you had nearly no social skills to boot. [ side note but I'm dying on the hill that he's incredibly intelligent and has a bachelors degree (at the very least)].

His parents kept him in therapy to help him manage because without it, he'd be back at square one refusing to go to school and faking a cold just to get out of it. And of course, therapy is a very important tool when it comes to healing, coping, and managing severe mental disorders. The whole reason why he doesn't show such bad anxiety anymore is because he kept the skills he learned and applies them so much that it becomes his second nature.

He's had at least 35 years of this, he's good enough to mask and to keep up his facade.

Another part of why he doesn't show it nearly as much is because he joined the military and was thrown through the wringer with it. Being bullied for so long was a major motivator for joining in the first place, as he needed something to get away from the peers who tormented him so and he needed a new life where he wasn't known as target #1. But he ALSO wanted to gain actual confidence and more certainty in himself.

Joining the military really means you're not left with such things as many choices when it comes to anxiety in social situations. You're forced into quarters with others, have to work side-by-side, do nearly everything together, so on and so forth. He knew that going in but at that point for him it was like extreme exposure therapy, the last step he needed to really put everything he learned in therapy to work.

That doesn't mean he didn't suffer or loved it. No, it was terrible, intense, and nerve-wracking. But he wouldn't have done it otherwise if he didn't want that. Being in the military didn't give him the leeway to avoid what made him anxious, it taught him to face it head on and fight.

Now that he's up there in age and has considerable more experience (and leeway with having a higher rank), the ways he expresses it [look at me finally answering the question] are more subtle.

On the field, you're likely not going to notice it. Because that's him turning the little auto pilot switch in his mind to on when he has a job. The job is his focus and everything has been so engrained in his mind that it's muscle memory. He's, quite frankly, focused on not dying and getting any job done over himself. The joking you often hear him do and taunting alike is part of how he's expressing the confidence he feels when he's in his element, when he KNOWS what he is doing.

If you look closely or approach him off the field, however, it's another story. He usually tenses or straightens himself out when people approach and will hold that until they leave (unless they're someone who he truly knows). Many assume that's a taught habit of the military, but that's only half-true. He did that before then.

Unlike when he's working, he doesn't have a guide or things he knows he has to do in a specific order to best ensure survival - no matter how much talking to other people feels like the heat of the battle, you can't (legally) solve it with a gun or throw a frag and book it out of there. There's no true guide to social interactions and that stresses him out. There's no manual, no field guide, no ten step card on how to successfully navigate them.

He knows things that are normal to say, he knows sometimes what he should say - it's just a matter of finding the phrasing and how to say them. Yet it seems like whenever someone doesn't follow his pre-programmed line of thought when it comes to their talking, his mind can shut down and go blank as he stares, trying to figure out where to go or what to say (spoiler: it usually doesn't end well).

He's usually awkward to talk to because he's running over everything in his head as he tries to think of what best to say to avoid further interactions or ones that could be more targeting to him. And, as mentioned, he lacks the average set of social skills that plenty learn in childhood because he didn't have that proper socialization. He's also still not the best at talking itself and can be blunt and to-the-point, which also doesn't usually go down well.

Not to mention, he's bad at small talk and has a terrible, sarcastic sense of humor that many can't read and it quickly turns things uncomfortable very fast because everyone takes him seriously. It never helps he usually doesn't explain himself all too well, usually leaving it as is as he secretly wishes he didn't talk at all when mortification sets in. Hurrying away with an excuse of some paperwork or something else to busy himself is his go-to after those.

When possible, he'll avoid small-talk and greatly prefers gestures instead. Someone who can appreciate his greater need for silence and a lack of talking is someone who he will greatly appreciate in turn. He's a firm believer that not all silences are uncomfortable and sometimes, it IS best not to say anything at all.

Due to his childhood too, he's not really fond of being around many people and will do his best to avoid it. Unless he has to grin and bare it, he won't. He finds his mind calmest when he can just be himself without having to worry about saying the right things to appease others or to be friendly. That way he can focus on what he wants, think how he wants, and feels how he wants without second guessing himself or having to worry about existing.

He's going to avoid most public settings when possible. Though he can now suitably manage his anxiety, they're something he passes up on. Grocery store trips are something he does maybe once a week or two, if that - stock piling so he has to go to the store less is his usual strategy. Anything he can do himself, he WILL do himself, if he doesn't have a trusted person who can do it better or can help.

Notably, he also doesn't have many friends. He's like talking to a brick wall and unless you're considerably persistent and understanding of his need for space, you won't get far. A lot of people don't have the time nor patience for it, but if you do get close to him, he does come out of his shell. He appreciates anyone who cares enough to actually get close to him and get to know him despite how awkward he can be, and will be loyal to the end because of that.

Another side effect is that he doesn't sleep well. Between the massive amounts of trauma from his job and the trauma from his childhood, he doesn't sleep well as is. But the social anxiety aspect comes into play because many nights, his mind is rerunning all the interactions he's had as he chronically overthinks them. He always wonders what he could've done, how he could've improved, and what they're thinking of him (even if they're someone he may never run into again). Its very hard for him to shut his mind off and doing such usually requires him drowning everything else and making himself not think about that, or anything, any more.

[Another side note: He's an avid reader. Reading gives him new things to think about and can help put him to sleep, especially before bed. It's a good way for him to stop thinking about whatever was nagging him and shifts his mind into thinking about other things he enjoys instead)

Basically, IN SHORT this isn't my full in-depth detailed characterization of exactly who I think he is - the reason he's not presenting it as an anxious ball of pure energy who is so uwu shy and soft is because he is incredibly well-managed with his severe social anxiety at his age and that's uh, just not him. Social anxiety doesn't mean he's a blubbering mess or will cry at the slightest inconvenience and reducing him to that or treating anyone with social anxiety like they're a child because of it does not help at alllll.

He's had extensive therapy for this, he's got his methods, he can mask very well. He's a WHOLE GROWN MAN who is responsible for not only his actions but how he manages his emotions and he knows it. But if you know him and know what to look for, you'll be able to pick it up.

(Also the sheer amount of scenarios I've seen where people think he just would... cry if you took his mask off??? Him???? HIM???? König, "I can make you talk, where are they?" the skilled PMC operator? That one? That guy? Yeah no, anyone dumb enough to do that better have signed their will prior or hopefully has an intensive love for scrubbing all the floors with a single old toothbrush. He won't tolerate people harassing or hustling him or pressing on his nerves. Sure, it reminds him of his childhood bullies, but quite frankly that behavior as grown adults trying that is RIDICULOUS, it pisses him off and immediately lowers his opinion on them.)

To whoever made it this far, I hope this made sense, I took melatonin before I got the ask so I'm in another realm right now LMAO. König is one of my favorites and was the first character I realllly really loved and I just hate seeing him done so dirty. Especially as someone with severe social anxiety myself, it irritates me when it's portrayed just so... wrong and quite frankly, in a lazy, offensive manner lacking any nuance especially in relation to the character who has it. Like just making him stutter and cry isn't all social anxiety is and there's SO much depth and things to work with despite the... actual substance as far as his bio goes

[lucky-clover-gazette]

(for the request thing) sometimes i wonder how Volo would feel/react if someone (like arceus’s chosen 👀) took a blow for him from a wild Pokemon or another person. From his perspective, Volo doesn’t have anyone in Hisui that cares about his wellbeing, and the game alludes to him having a troubled and lonely past, and with him having planned on erasing all life in Hisui in pursuit of his desires, would he feel guilt if someone showed him a level of care that would make them sacrifice their safety for his, when he was ready to potentially sacrifice them for his own sake when it came to Arceus?

(also wanna say ive loved your fics on Ao3, so talented <3)

(also on ao3)

You really prefer not to die in front of other people.

The edges of your vision darken as you shove Volo aside, taking the full force of the Alpha Vespiqueen’s attack. You manage the subdue your attacker with a well-aimed sticky glob and ultra ball, but not before suffering an undoubtedly fatal blow.

The consummate merchant comes to you at once, leaning over your fallen body with an oddly indecipherable expression. Usually Volo is abundantly obvious with his feelings, whether he’s passionately rambling about ruins or earnestly praising your efforts as the hero of Hisui. But the man you see now, as your vision begins to blur, simply stares.

“Caught it,” you brag.

His grey eyes widen slightly. You haven’t shared this with him, but you’ve always found them rather beautiful.

“You shouldn’t have…”

“Saved you?” you ask with a dry chuckle. “That’s why I’m here, remember?”

Volo furrows his brow. Reaches out to touch you, then pulls his hand back.

“I sincerely apologize,” he tells you, bowing his head. “If you are to perish in these circumstances, you deserve to know—”

You die and can’t hear the rest.

And then you open your eyes.

You stand on your feet now, in the last place you felt safe before the Pokémon’s attack. Volo still kneels in the distance, seemingly unaware that your body has been replaced by a fallen satchel containing your entire supply of ultraballs, a fire stone, and exactly four medicinal leeks.

You frown. This is going to be awkward.

“Hey, buddy,” you say, coming up carefully behind him. Volo’s back goes rigid at the sound of your voice, his head turning around at once.

“You—you!!”

You rub the back of your neck, sheepish. “Surprise?”

“You died!” Volo exclaims with an accusatory finger-point. “I just saw—” His head swivels to the satchel on the ground, then he turns back to you. “How?”

You sigh and sit down beside him. “Chosen One perk. I die, Arceus says my work isn’t finished yet, I get another shot. It happened for the first time when I fought Lord Kleavor. I had no idea what I was doing, and it took like a dozen tries before I got good.”

Volo looks horrified. “You’ve died a dozen times?”

“Of course not!”

“Then why—”

“My death count’s definitely in the triple digits now. Lord Arcanine was ten times worse than Kleavor, because of all the fire and bullshit arena. At least Lady Liligant was a total pushover.”

“Did it not hurt?” demands Volo, his face growing noticeably pale.

“Oh, it totally hurt,” you admit. “But somebody’s got to deal with it, and I’m the only one around here who’s been made invulnerable by God.”

Volo looks as if he’s been slapped. You suppose that’s fair, considering the shock of witnessing your death and resurrection. But to you, this really is just another Tuesday.

“I know it’s disturbing,” you sigh, putting a hand on his shoulder. His muscles are tense. “That’s why I try my best to make sure people aren’t around to see it. Just easier that way, you know?”

Volo wears another unreadable expression.

“Sucks to lose a satchel, though,” you say, lightly. “Thanks for keeping an eye on it. Without witnesses, I usually lose some of my stuff. Never the plates, though, don’t worry.”

He still looks lost in his thoughts, which is no good. You don’t know how to explain that this happens all the time, for much less important reasons than protecting your favorite person on Hisui. The pain is a small price to pay for his safety, and you’d readily pay it again.

“I thought you died,” Volo eventually says. “Saving my life.”

You elbow him playfully. “I guess Arceus is looking out for you too.”

His expression darkens. “No.”

“No?”

He looks you dead in the eyes, with a different sort of intensity than you’ve come to expect from the eccentric wanderer. “Under an unjust god, endless life is endless pain. Do you truly wish that for yourself? For the world?”

Distantly, you wonder what exactly Volo had thought you deserved to know before your presumed demise. You have a feeling he’s not going to tell you now.

You offer him a hand. “Well, unless you’ve got a better god laying around somewhere, I think we’re stuck with what we’ve got.” And I like what I’ve got, you absolutely do not tell the merchant. I like that I’m here with you.

Volo still seems distracted, but he takes your hand anyway. “Right,” he mutters, and then smiles. “We live to fight another day.”

You rub your thumb against the side of his hand. “And maybe someday, we won’t have to fight. We’ll have everything we need.”

You can picture it, with him. You wonder, maybe foolishly, if he might feel the same way.

Supporting you is actually an investment in my own fortunes, Volo had told you once.

You would protect him regardless of your personal relationship, of course. Just as you protect the rest of this world. You want things to be better, for everyone, and intend to use your god-given powers to ensure that your dream becomes reality.

Volo nods, his sharp gaze fixed on your joined hands. A chill runs down your spine as he squeezes.

“Yes,” he agrees. “Someday.”

You smile softly.

“I think I can live with that.”

[lucy90712]

Ruben Dias fluff!! Any thing you want, I trust you

Having kids is the most stressful and rewarding thing I've ever done but I wouldn't have it any other way. The biggest downside is that Ruben doesn't get to be around as much as he's like to as he's always got training or matches but when he's around he always spends every second helping me or playing with our oldest son Milo even if he's tired he treasures every second he gets to spend at home with us. 

Since I gave birth to our daughter Ruben has barely been home he got a couple of days off training and then it's been all go since. There has been matches every weekend and then champions league during the week so he's hardly been home which makes life difficult. Caring for a newborn and entertaining a two year old on little to no sleep is exhausting but Ruben helps where he can and he even gets his brother to come over when he's not around which is a great help. 

This weekend Ruben finally has a few days off after such a packed schedule Pep gave all the players a couple days off training to rest and recuperate ready for the next run of games. Rest isn't a thing in our household right now but I don't think Ruben minds he just wants to be home and actually spend time with the kids. I know he feels awful that he hasn't got to bond with our daughter Alice as much as he'd want to as he's not here during the day when she's awake and looking around but I always send him pictures and videos so he feels like he's involved too. 

Just like every morning I expected to be woken up at the crack of dawn by a toddler screaming in the baby monitor and a newborn crying right next to my head. When I woke up and saw that it was nearly 9am I freaked out and then when I saw that the baby wasn't in her bassinet I nearly had a panic attack. That's when my sensible brain took over my mum brain and I realised that Ruben also wasn't in bed next to be so he must have Alice and that made me feel so much better. After I calmed down I got out of bed and headed downstairs where I could already hear the chaos which is weirdly nice to hear. When I finally made it downstairs I saw Ruben in the kitchen holding Alice while trying to make pancakes and with Milo at his feet. I took Alice from him quickly so he could focus on breakfast but before I knew it I was also holding Milo as he's definitely a mama's boy and he doesn't like to leave my side when I'm around. 

"Thank you for letting me sleep in you didn't have to do that I know you're tired too" I said 

"You don't have to thank me I know you don't get much sleep and you need it to deal with those two I get to sleep when I’m away for matches so it's only fair that you get to have a lay in" he said 

"Well I still appreciate it I feel like a new woman now" I laughed 

"Good and I've got breakfast all ready for you" Ruben said while handing me a plate of pancakes 

We ate breakfast as a family or our version of eating as a family which is taking a bite of our own food every few minutes after having to cut bits up for Milo and sometimes having to feed it to him when he refuses to eat. Then more often than not Alice seems to sense when I'm eating and all of a sudden wants feeding so I have to eat with just one hand. Ruben had managed to get Milo to eat all of his pancakes while I still had a mostly full plate as I was feeding Alice so Ruben switched his attention to me and cut my pancakes and fed them to me like the perfect husband he is. 

To spend some quality time together Ruben suggested we go to the park and seeing as I've got him to help me I had no reason to disagree. He took care of getting Milo ready while I got Alice ready and we made it out the house as a family of four for the first time which sounds crazy as Alice is three weeks old now but Ruben's been around so little we haven't had the chance to go anywhere all together yet. Leaving the house is never easy but eventually we got out the house with me having Alice in the carrier and pushing the stroller while Milo walked as he refused to get in the stroller. 

The walk to the park isn't a long one so we got there pretty quickly and when we did Milo took off and made a beeline straight for the slide as he loves going down the slide. Ruben followed close behind while I found somewhere to sit with Alice as she was due a feed before she naps again. Watching Ruben play with Milo made me a little emotional hearing Milo laughing as Ruben chased him around the park is exactly how I pictured parenthood there is no better sound than hearing your child laughing it always fills my heart with joy. Milo can be difficult at times which I think comes down to missing his dad but I couldn't care less about that when I get to see the two of them happy and playing together. 

"Mama come play" Milo said as he ran over to me 

"I would love to play with you buddy but mama's still recovering I can push you on the swing if you'd like though" I said 

"Yeah let's go mama" he said running off again 

I gave Alice to Ruben so I could push Milo on the swing which he thoroughly enjoyed he wanted to go higher and higher until I physically couldn't push him any higher. As he was swinging Ruben started to pull faces at him from across the park which only made him laugh more. This is exactly why I think Ruben is the best dad he has always been so great since the moment Milo was born our kids just love to be around him as he always makes them happy. It wasn't long before Milo wanted to get out of the swing so I got him out and he dragged me off to the rest of the play equipment which I wasn't going to go on as I'm only just three weeks post partum but I just can't say no to him. We climbed up the climbing wall and ran around the little castle type thing it brings you to before going down the slide which was more than enough for me. 

We stayed at the park for a while longer until Milo had run out of energy and climbed into the stroller himself. Ruben took the stroller which now also had Alice in too and held my hand as we walked back home. Both kids fell asleep in the stroller so Ruben and I kept walking even when we went past the house so they'd known stay asleep and we could have some peace. We decided to walk into town and got some fresh bread and other things to make lunch when we got back home. As soon as the stroller stopped Milo woke up and wanted to get out so Ruben unbuckled him and off he went to play with his toys. 

Our afternoon started out much the same as our morning with us trying to get Milo to sit still long enough to eat lunch and then we went straight back to playing. As a family we all played with Milo's trucks and cars in the little world he's created where they all have a role. The things kids come up with is just fascinating their little minds are so creative. Before Milo was born Ruben and I spent countless evenings wondering what kind of personality he would develop but I would've never predicted that he'd be such a character he's always making me laugh with the things he comes out with but he's also such a kind little boy he always thinks about me and his sister. 

After a long day of running around and playing the kids were definitely tired and of course right after dinner Milo cuddled up to my side and fell asleep while Alice slept on my chest and Ruben had his arm around my waist as I leant against his shoulder. We took a few moments to just relax and enjoy the calm as that doesn't happen often. Eventually Ruben picked up Milo and took him to bed and I was going to put Alice in her bassinet and grab the baby monitor but he told me to stay put and he'd do it and I wasn't going to argue. He did exactly what he promised and then he came back to bring me upstairs as he'd started to run me a bath. 

I enjoyed my bath very much it was so relaxing I could feel the tension in my muscles that had built up over the last few weeks just disappear in the warm water. When I got out Ruben had pyjamas ready for me on the bed which I changed into and joined him in bed. He pulled me into his arms and started to press kisses all over my face which I've missed so much as I either sleep alone while Ruben is away or we don't get a moments peace as Alice has always been fussy at night. Tonight everything was quiet and it was amazing Ruben and I could enjoy some quality time together which we haven't had in a couple months. 

"I don't know how you deal with this all day everyday I'm exhausted" Ruben said 

"You get used to it some days they are calmer than others I think Milo was just excited you were around" I said 

"I'm sorry I haven't been here more I know the kids miss me but I can tell you miss me too even if you want say it" he said 

"It's ok I know why you aren't around it's not like you're out with friends while I'm here with two kids and yeah I miss having you here but that's selfish so I don't mention it" I admitted 

"Its not selfish you're allowed to feel like that and wish things were different I understand that things are hard and you'd like me to be around to help more that's not selfish I promise" he said 

"Everything is worth it though when we get moments like today and when Milo gets to watch you play on tv the hard moments don't matter anymore" I said

"I can't wait for Alice to come to her first game even if she doesn't remember I still remember when you first brought Milo along that was up there with one of the best days of my life" Ruben said 

"Maybe once we've both had our six week check up I'll bring her along to a game but we'll need to get her some little ear defenders" I said

"Of course but remember if you aren't ready you don't have to stick to that I'd much rather wait until you'll actually have a good time as it's supposed to be a good memory for all of us" he said 

We talked for a bit longer before Ruben turned a movie on and I knocked out within a few minutes as I didn't realise how tired I was but I fell asleep feeling completely happy and fulfilled.

[bindeds]

hello pookie i heard you have lucifer head canons😏, can i plz see them 🥺

YES OF COURSE POOKIE!! <3<3<3 LMK IF YOU WANT ANY OTHER CHARACTERS’ HEADCANONS! tryna expand my fandoms as much as possible too so just try your luck if you’d like <33

࣪𓏲ּ ֶָ ᝪ LUCIFER HEADCANONS!

starting off lightly with his obsession with ducks; i personally like to believe that god had his favorite angels (or high ranking ones, aka seraphims, which lucifer is theorized to have been) had each of them make one animal from scratch to place in the garden of eden, and lucifer’s contribution was the ducks. he thought they were adorable!!

i’ve made a post about this before and i’m not sure if this counts as a luci headcanon but i strongly believe lilith was modeled after lucifer. if hazbin decided to go with the popular belief that lucifer was god’s favorite and that lucifer was god’s prettiest angel then it would make sense for god to have one of the first two people to be modeled after him. lilith is associated heavily with the color purple because of the morningstar’s formal family portrait, and lucifer has purple eyelids. lilith also has blonde hair like lucifer and is slicked back in the same exact way, even going as far to have hair curled around her cheeks/jaw like him. the only real difference is that luci has short hair.

lucifer makes himself small on purpose, and for trauma related reasons. before hazbin was created we all would imagine the devil as something big and scary with a demonic voice or as a hot human guy in some other games (ahem obey me) but lucifer in hazbin is the exact opposite. he’s literally smaller than most sinners. it’s worth remembering that lucifer can not only shape shift, but it’s also an essential part to who he is considering that’s how he approached eve, plus the apple motifs. if he can shape shift, he can definitely adjust his own height too. he was also short during his time in heaven and we know this from the first few minutes of the first episode when charlie was introducing the overall premise. the other angels who were talking down to him were visibly bigger than he is. it made me think that maybe because of how belittled he felt when he was in heaven, he had purposely made himself smaller. not to mention, being god’s favorite or the prettiest gets you targets on your back. and it doesn’t help that he has ideas or a mentality that heaven doesn’t like. and his decision to stay small only grew more intense when he found out how people saw him on earth—he didn’t want to be that guy. he absolutely hates the characterization humans have of him because it’s nothing like him. so when people see him and go ‘you’re much shorter in real life’ (alastor) it doesn’t faze him in the slightest. he wants you to react that way. or, he wants you to realize that, ‘huh, the devil is nothing like i thought he was.’ because that’s the truth. he’s not. and the best and most immediate way for people to see that is if he dresses in all white, a color known to signify innocence and purity which is the exact opposite of hell, and if he’s not physically intimidating at all, like if he was small. upon your first glance at him, you’ll already know the devil is not the man you think he is. and he wants everyone to know that.

i have a fic based off of this, but because humans started calling gambling and the games related to gambling ‘the devil’s game’ (though the original game is roulette, people have come to generalize gambling as a whole to be the devil’s game) he never loses when gambling or playing a game related to gambling, even for fun or when there are no stakes involved. never loses in blackjack, poker, roulette, tables games—any game related to gambling, he’ll always win.

i can’t entirely say if lucifer has had sinner friends, but i do believe that he acquired the hyperfixation of the carnival/circus aesthetic from sinners or humans. this is because his outfit was intended to look like AND inspired by a ringmaster’s, and carnivals and circuses was an elaborate concept made by humans. it could also be possible that lucifer was the one that planted that influence in humans, however it was stated that lucifer’s punishment was that he was never to see the good of humanity, only the bad. so i’d like to think a ringmaster or an acrobat or a circus performer in general died, ended up in hell, met lucifer and told lucifer about the circus, and then he got the idea of building luluworld in hell.

alternatively, if it was the other way around, i think that he occasionally gets to experience the world through being summoned. i mean, we’ve all heard of rituals to summon the devil and whatnot, right? i think those do summon him into earth and then instead of showing up he actually just leaves to go explore what’s been happening until he has to go/he feels he’s getting weaker/the people that summoned him ‘close the portal’ etc. and then that’s where he very sneakily, in his own way, introduces the circus concept to humans.

because of his personality, i don’t believe his ring is an indicator of his current marital status. i think lucifer is a sentimental person, and he doesn’t let go of things easily. it’s entirely possible that him and lilith are through, but he just doesn’t want to remove the ring. something we fail to consider is that lucifer isn’t like any other person; if he marries someone, divorce isn’t the same for him and lilith as it is for humans. hell, when they first got together, they were literally the first beings to be genuinely in love with each other. back when the garden of eden was still being inhabited with lilith and adam, the only beings in heaven would have been god and the angels. if lilith didn’t love adam but married and had a kid with luci, that means they were the first ever beings to have ever been in love and the first ones to have had sex (unless for some reason, lilith and adam did it which i highly doubt.) now, all this to say that we may live in a world where people break up or get divorced all the time, but this is reasonably a foreign concept to lucifer because he’s only ever been in heaven, then hell, and even if he observed it in hell it would have been very briefly and from a far, 3rd person perspective. if lilith and him were basically the first people to have felt such intense feelings and closeness to one another, it would make sense that divorce or not, he would keep the ring because it serves as a reminder of a time when he felt the happiest/alive/most himself/free.

lucifer has autism + adhd! now i know this one’s loaded (and ofc i have audhd too) but hear me out; these aren’t listed in any particular order but they’re what comes to me first to last. # ONE : when charlie was talking to him about the hotel for the whole walk till the roof, and then she asked what his thoughts were, he focused on the first thing that came to mind which was something that was right in front of him—the railing. then charlie had to remind him of her initial question. # TWO : he wasn’t paying attention even when he himself was speaking, thus the infamous ‘and now, i am going to fuck you!’ and when charlie corrects him, he goes ‘wait what did i say?’ # THREE : This may just be for ‘comedy’s sake’ but when mimzy first approached him he suddenly switched up from being completely uninterested to suddenly trying to seem interested, his eye even twitching when he turns to her while his smile is visibly awkward. this particular thing reminded me of autistic masking. like. there was something about it that made me relate to it deeply. and then after she’d greeted him he went ‘charmed i’m sure.’ and he looked more relaxed despite looking uncomfortable seconds ago. like he’d gotten ‘comfortable’ with the mask. # FOUR : i feel like i don’t have to mention this but obviously, the hyperfixations with ducks and the circus theme. i don’t think i need to say more because his room literally has tubs and heaps and piles of ducks. that is a full on hyperfixation, no doubt about it. # FIVE : when charlie had asked him to help her get another meeting with heaven, he said no and was very insistent on that. but the moment she’d blended in the invitation of having him over for the purpose of getting him to agree with her, everything else was forgotten. the only thing on his mind was, ‘my daughter wants to see me!’ and it shows with his, ‘WAIT. YOU’RE. INVITING ME OVER?!’ his brain latched onto that immediately, completely forgetting the fact that charlie had only invited him to have him do something he doesn’t want to do. now i have a few more things to support this theory but i feel like this is getting long so lmk if you want an independent post on lucifer’s audhd tendencies in the show!

[ipegchangbin]

— winner’s deal

sub!jeno x dom!reader x sub!mark | 7.9k words | READ ON AO3

One game, one house. A bet turns into something more when team leader Mark plans to make your boyfriend Jeno all jealous.

❥  fem!reader (she/her pronouns, afab). smut. porn with some plot. ❥ threesome. college/university!au, student!reader & athletes!markjen. member x reader, member x member. open relationship themes. unprotected sex, mouthplay, edging & overstimulation, one light cock slap, double penetration, they’re all messy

📝 happy birthday to the one and only @meivida!!! my fellow dreamzen, the jeno to my chenle, my bff 4life! also surprise i write for nct drm too now. otherwise, enjoy !!

18+ only. minors do not interact.

Somehow, Mark’s not that nervous as he faces Jeno after the game.

Having swept the floor earlier with an insane hockey match, hockey team leader Mark and varsity captain Jeno eye each other down in the locker rooms with nothing but fiery gazes, squinted eyes, and clenched teeth.

You were going to meet them after the game for some “unknown reason.” But, with the way they looked at each other, they just knew.

“Dumb play on the floor earlier, Jeno.” Mark snickered at his teammate, referring to a foul move he got called out for. It cost their team a single point, but Jeno didn’t care about that.

“You didn’t bother to block the guy, so how else was I supposed to pass the disk?”

Mark decides to stay silent. They both know that they aren’t actually frustrated at their game, no, they’re waiting for the minutes to tick down along with the sound of your footsteps by the locker room’s doors.

Jeno breaks the conversational floor worse than he did on the court. “Anyway, why are you meeting up with my girlfriend?”

“Why don’t you ask her?” The leader popped a water bottle open. “You’re her boyfriend.”

“Shouldn’t you know why if she’s asking you?” Jeno had a point, but Mark snickered.

“Beats me.”

“Don’t act like you don’t know any better.”

“Because I don’t!”

Refusing to explode any further, Jeno sighs loudly with a big huff off his chest. “Look, if this is about that one move, I’m sorry.”

Mark simply nods, eyes away from Jeno’s face.

“And I just want to know what my girlfriend has to do with you.”

Even though Mark knows the answer, and Jeno has a hunch, they both shut their lips and wordlessly look at each other.

The truth is, Mark had a bet with Jaemin — if he could somehow make Jeno jealous, then a sum of money would be on the line. It’s been a running joke around the team that Jeno gets sulky over simple things, even if he tries to hide it. It’s something small and endearing, but even Mark thought it would be a step too far if he made him really envious of his girlfriend; Jaemin didn’t care, he just wanted money. It frustrated Mark even to be playing these types of bets, but he couldn’t say no, even as the leader.

Jeno already had that sneaking suspicion that he was being played with, but never in his life would he believe that you — his girlfriend — would get involved like this. Rather than jealousy, he was frustrated at the thought that the boys were teasing him in this way. He tried not to let it get the best of him though, even if he was already getting fired up in the locker rooms.

They eye each other down and it’s the most they’ve stared in their lives.

The sound of sneakers walking into the room echoes through the rigid halls of the lockers. A voice can be heard saying “This is the boy’s room” before being cut off by an extra loud turn of the shoe.

Mark suddenly fidgets in his place, all signs of cockiness dissipating as your familiarly strict voice vibrates through the room.

“Where’s Mark?” You ask yourself. With a resting tone like that, you could pass off as the team manager if you weren’t so focused on your other endeavors.

You spot team leader Mark before your boyfriend, igniting a little spark of envy within Jeno.

“Mark! Why’d you make me rush here so suddenly?” It sounds like you were scolding him with your furrowed eyebrows but you’re not.

“Uh, just needed to ask a simple question.”

“And what would that be?”

Jeno looks back and forth between you and Mark with a cloud of confusion over his head.

First off, he can’t believe that you’re involved in this. Second, you look way too hot when you look mad even when you aren’t. It’s not that you’re annoyed at him, maybe you are, but not to the degree that your voice suggests. Somehow, Jeno finds that assertive side of you so sexy that it’d be inappropriate to think about it right then and there.

Thirdly and finally, you’re completely ignoring the love of your life. Standing awkwardly beside Mark, Jeno simply stares at you and hopes you will stare back.

You don’t. Why’s that so attractive of you?

"How about you join dinner with us at my place?" Mark replies, a smug grin on his face, “Y’know, for beating those Stray-bitches from earlier." 

You blink. Jeno blinks back. It’s only then that you acknowledge your boyfriend. He didn’t even know that they were getting a celebratory dinner for winning the day’s game.

That’s when Jeno’s ears start to turn red with envy. “What do you mean, your place?”

He doesn’t realize he’s thinking aloud until your eyes widen and Mark responds with a fake laugh and a smug smile. “I mean, dude, you played well earlier, and what’s wrong with not bringing your girlfriend over?”

Acting all buddy-buddy, as if he didn’t just diss his play on the floor. But that’s not what gets Jeno’s blood boiling.

“Can’t believe I had to be the one to invite her over first instead of you.”

You seem a little less affected, more so confused.

Only a few things make sense to you at the moment. They won, sure. But if Jeno knew about the dinner, why couldn’t he invite you over? Then again, he doesn’t seem to know either, and Mark looks unusually cool to you right now, your eyes are flipping between the two men until your eyelids flutter for a second to refocus.

“I’m available later,” you say with your back straightened. “I’m going if Jeno’s going.”

With that, Jeno can’t say no. He’s in a trickier spot than you are, severely tethering between being unaware and painfully aware of what’s going on.

Mark then slams his arm over Jeno’s shoulder. “Guess you’re going then?”

But he’s bad at masking the nervousness in his eyes. He gulps and sweat trickles down his forehead even after the game’s been over for a while. His plan to make Jeno jealous all for what could probably be lunch money is backing him into a corner — and he mentally hates wearing the dunce hat.

Jeno nods his head with a squint.

“Alright! I’ll see you guys later.”

He ruffles Jeno's hair and leaves with a turn of the heel. The squeak of his rubber shoes echoes through the locker rooms. You turn to your disheveled puppy of a boyfriend, fixing the messy hair.

“You sure you wanna go?” Your question is met with a nod from him. He compliantly keeps his head down for you to scratch it slightly, leaving the boy with a flushed face and redder ears.

“If we get dinner at Mark’s, can we get dessert at mine after?” Jeno suggests.

“Sure thing,” you giggle. “How could I say no to a polite boy like you?”

If Jeno had a tail, he’d be wagging it now. Reassured, he simply takes your hand in his as you lead each other out of the lockers. Should Mark or Jaemin be there, they would’ve thought that they lost from the sight of the both of you.

Time rolls around until it’s night. The lights are on while the sun is out, the moon barely illuminating your steps alongside Jeno’s on the way to Mark’s place.

The streets are usually busier but you don’t mind the quieter walk when your boyfriend intertwines his fingers with yours. The sidewalks are skinnier but he uses that as an excuse to walk closer to you. He’s the unusual one now, becoming slightly clingier than he normally would.

You figure if it has anything to do with Mark’s antics.

“You still wanna go to his place? We can grab something else,” you suggest.

That’s where you’re wrong, though.

“No, let’s go,” Jeno says with a smile and a contrasting squeeze of your hand.

He wants to prove himself against Mark.

You’d think that he’s unintentionally losing, giving in to the envy and jealousy building up in his core — but that’s not what this is. He wants to show him that you’re his, and he’s yours. Given the attitude that the both of them were giving each other, he wanted to one-up his own leader. He can’t quite explain it himself.

You both make it to Mark's place though, but you don't recognize any of the cars around his apartment. Actually, there are no vehicles around Mark's spot at all. Not even Chenle's car is there, the signature pickup that took their friend group everywhere. It seems like both of you came early.

So, you ring on his doorbell. Jeno tests himself by letting your hand go.

No response. Ding-dong; no response again.

You do hear hurried footsteps though, but it takes long before anything happens. Antsy, Jeno fidgets as he stops himself from the instinct of holding your hand again. Minutes go by before the door finally answers: Mark looks disheveled and hurriedly dressed.

You’d be damned if you say he’s cute, so you digress, focusing on your boyfriend instead.

The two men high-five with a side hug — despite lingering hard feelings — and you enter the seemingly lifeless house.

“…Where’s the party?” You squeak.

Mark leans against the door frame with crossed arms. “You’re the first in here.”

On the table sits nothing but Mark's takeout and a couple of other snacks. The only fresh thing seems to be the chicken he ordered just an hour ago. Jeno raises an eyebrow at Mark.

“Oh, Y/N, can I tell you something before the others arrive?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Sure.”

“But Jeno can’t hear about it.”

What is it this time?

Mark isn't even sure of what he should say to you. Maybe he should flat-out admit that he's in a bet to make Jeno jealous.

Maybe he should admit a little secret he’s been keeping to himself for years — he finds you kind of cute.

It’s not something he holds as he would a crush, that would be wrong of him. He just always considered his best friend lucky for bagging someone as great as you. You’re someone he likes to look at and converse with — it’s nothing about that kind of attraction, at least he thinks. Mark isn’t here to homewreck, but he can’t help his brain when you’re in the picture.

He shouldn’t talk about that, though. Not when Jeno’s there, not when he’s supposed to be faking a party, not when he’s practically using you to win a bet against his friend.

He feels like a shitty person, but before the college-boy-antics-guilt settles in, you follow Mark behind the door of his kitchen.

“What is it that you wanted to talk about?”

Mark’s pupils dart around, trying to find anything but your face to focus on. “Well, uhm, actually…”

Meanwhile, Jeno has a hunch that the party’s not real when Renjun sends a picture to him. He’s with Jaemin and Chenle, all three looking at the camera with mischievous eyes.

All of his suspicions confirm themselves with question marks and indefinite periods while waiting for you with heated cheeks.

It’s not that he’s clingy — he doesn’t want to admit so — and it’s not that he’s jealous — he can’t admit that either. In all fairness, he just wants you to be safe; he trusts you enough to be in Mark’s presence, but alone with a secret he can’t know about? Why would you be hiding behind a door in Mark’s apartment?

The anxiety creeps under his skin, sending off various signals in his brain to check in on you and his friend.

He walks in on you urging the other to speak. “Come on, Mark, what is it that you wanted to say—”

“If you have anything to say to her, say it to my face too,” Jeno butts in.

Mark blinks. He’s sweating.

He doesn’t know what to do. That is, he didn’t, not until he blurts something out.

"Fine, y'all can do whatever you want in here!" Mark apologizes. "I'm sorry, I don't want to waste your time. You guys can hang around, get more food, sleepover — hell, y'all can fuck and that's fine, I'm just really sorry."

It’s your turn to blink along with Jeno.

“Y-You weren’t gonna say anything?”

Mark’s cheeks turn red as he stumbles over his words. “Okay—where do I start? I was in a bet with Jaemin, and he bet that I could make Jeno jealous.” He uses his hands to communicate after pausing. “Like—okay, I didn’t think it would go this far, I’m sorry.”

But something clicks in his head as soon as he sees Jeno’s beet-red face.

“Though I feel like I won anyway,” he giggles awkwardly. “I think I actually made you jealous for a minute there.”

You turn to your poor boyfriend and find him fully flushed, hands balled into fists, forehead glistening with beads of sweat. Jeno’s eyebrows sit furiously on his tall nose, but his mouth is unsure — that’s when he realizes his envy getting the best of him for at least that moment.

You think it's cute, though. Perhaps you're the worst person for being amused to see your friend play games with your boyfriend.

“So, how much was the bet?” You break the ice, and Jeno turns to you with a shocked face.

“Twenty bucks…” Mark scratches his head, “…I guess it’s worth it?”

You laugh at him, lightly punching his shoulder. At that moment, Jeno's feelings start to blur as he experiences light deja vu before his eyes. With the way you were interacting with Mark before him, he was feeling that creeping jealousy come back. He tries to suppress it as best as he can, but this time it fails — the frustration shows in his face as you laugh and act as if he isn't there.

He’s the boyfriend. He should be the one you’re defending and paying attention to, but for some reason, you don’t mind either you or him getting played with for twenty stupid bucks.

Also, you’re hot as fuck when you’re smiling at someone else, and it frustrates him even more.

“We can do anything here, yeah?” Jeno speaks up.

Mark smiles. “Yeah. I don’t mind at all, it’s my little peace offering.”

Without another word, Jeno grabs your hand as he drags you out of the room. He runs to Mark’s bedroom, holding you firmly, closing the door only slightly shut with the other.

“What the fuck are you doing?” You hiss. “You can’t just dart out like that! And my hand hurts a bit.”

At that, Jeno wordlessly inspects your wrist, thinking he hurt you in the midst of his envy — he’s also avoiding your queries.

“You’re cute when you’re jealous, but there’s no reason to be.” The reassurance doesn’t work as his eyes fixate on your hand. “It’s just a bet between them, and at the end of the day, I still love you.”

Your words fall on semi-deaf ears, the only visual effect being his cheeks getting a shade deeper. He fidgets with your fingers.

Mildly frustrated yourself, you reach out with both hands to cup his face and refocus on yours. “Jeno.”

The look he gives you sends a signal off in your head.

What seems to be hearts form in his eyes. He looks like he wants to be possessive, but he wants you to own him. Make him yours. It’s a look you’ve seen many times on his face but you can’t pinpoint the exact reason why it still gets you every time.

Like a pleading puppy, his cheeks sink into your palms as he stares back into you.

“I just…” Jeno clears his throat, “I don’t want you to be played with like that. And I-I want to be just yours.”

Your shock softens as you rub your thumbs across his cheekbones. “Oh lovely, there’s nothing to worry about. I really love you.”

He unexpectedly lunges his head forward, trapping your lips in a loving kiss. It takes a full ten seconds, eyes closed and heads tilted to find each other’s connection between the mouths, and you pull away with a huff.

“Jeno, we shouldn’t.”

You know that this usually escalates to something more than just stolen kisses. You try to stop it before anything, and your boyfriend knows this, but he doesn’t stop at all.

“Mark said we can do anything.”

You push his chest gently. “That’s not a go signal!”

“Yeah, but if anything, Mark should be the shameful one.”

Before you could question it, Jeno nods his head towards the creaked open door, revealing Mark standing behind it.

He was caught listening in.

“Hey, d-don’t take this wrong,” Mark stutters, “Was just gonna ask why you ran out on me!”

For some reason, you aren’t mad about it.

Jeno’s weirded out, that’s for sure — but neither of you can stay too mad. He had his reasons to look for you but not to ogle for that long, but maybe it’s the heat post-kiss that drives your head to a place where it shouldn’t be; especially not in team leader Mark’s house.

But it’s going there.

“I guess we’re all forgetting our manners,” you suggest with high eyebrows. Your voice, however, takes on a deeper tone with a timbre that Mark hasn’t heard — but your boyfriend knows too well.

Mark observes as your boyfriend shivers. He looks at you surprised as if he didn’t just kiss you in his best friend’s house; he knows you could make it worse.

“If you hadn’t been so nosy, I would’ve invited you, you know.”

That’s more than enough of a signal to get Mark and Jeno’s heads spiraling.

Jeno isn’t too sure what you mean. He does, but he doesn’t know why you’re acting so coy — like you were never caught off-guard. As your boyfriend, he knows your antics, but as a separate person, he isn’t too sure how to think of your thinking.

Inviting Mark to step into the same room, you reach your fingers out and curl them towards you.

“Jeno was gonna be mine for the night. It wouldn’t hurt if I could just have another toy to play with though, yeah?”

You only lay your eyes on your boyfriend at the last word. It isn’t a look of confirmation, but rather assertion — you stated it like a fact and he isn’t ready to react before you glare at him. There’s only one answer to you, and Jeno nods, making you smirk proudly.

Mark simply watches speechlessly until you smile at him.

"I mean, as you said, we could do anything. It's still your house though, so feel free to call it off..." The wind that blows as your words slow down seems to add to the heat growing in Mark's cheeks. The warmth under his skin only boils as he notices Jeno's lack of protest — worse, he sees compliance and anticipation.

He gulps as he realizes that he doesn’t want to call it off.

“So what? Care to join?”

The three have you have waited long enough for a response but his house slippers are glued to the floor. His mouth hangs open for a response but nothing leaves him.

A chuckle leaves your mouth as you take the step to inch closer to him while holding your boyfriend's hand at the back.

“Don’t be shy,” your free hand snakes up to Mark’s shoulder, “I don’t bite.”

It's a lie as per Jeno's eyes. You'll bite if presented with the consent.

Just as soon as Mark musters up a response, he finds your lips on his cheek as you pull him closer to your boyfriend. The proximity and sudden actions kill him bit by bit from the inside out. A tent forms in his pants but he thinks nothing of it when you kiss him on the lips right after.

Jeno watches with no hint of jealousy, but a watering mouth follows.

Mark savors the taste of your lips for a second, then another — before it’s all gone as you pull away with a mischievous smile.

Grabbing his chin with one hand, your thumb swipes past his wetted plump lower lip. You tilt his head slightly towards Jeno, letting your boyfriend watch as you slip your thumb inside his mouth. Mark's eyes light up, watching your face as you fixate on his mouth.

He instinctively attempts to suck your thumb, but you pry his mouth open with your other hand’s fingers, hooking his head up by his front teeth. It’s fully exposed now, Mark’s tongue out with saliva flowing from the roof of his mouth, down onto strong teeth, all the way to your index and middle fingers. Jeno speechlessly savors the sight of you leaning down to kiss his best friend’s tongue.

Desire fills him as you press your lips firmly against his tongue, smiling, then pulling back to admire the flustered mess you’ve made of the boy. Your boyfriend enjoys the view, inching close to the both of you to kiss your lips right after. Your hands never leave Mark’s open mouth.

“Kiss him.” Your index finger tugs on the corner of Mark’s lips to feign a smile. “See? He’s waiting for it.”

Jeno eyes his teammate with lust. He closes his eyes and mirrors your antics, kissing not just Mark’s tongue but his teeth too, his lips, and any inch of flesh he can get. He licks the spit in his mouth and gulps after each kiss.

As Jeno pulls away, you leave Mark’s mouth alone, making the boy cough at the sudden absence of you both — but he smiles right after.

“Fuck,” he simply whispers.

Proud of what you’ve done, you turn to make out with Jeno while your wet hands travel down to tug at a belt hoop on Mark’s pants. The signal hits him late, causing him to hurriedly unbutton his pants. You laugh into Jeno’s kiss.

“Look at this boy, he doesn’t know what to do.”

“Always like that,” Jeno comments. “He’s the cutest when he’s panicked.”

Mark’s head shoots up at Jeno. Cute? Since when was he cute to him?

It takes long the boy a minute — he zones out for a few seconds as you and Jeno start kissing up his sides, from the neck down to his hips. He can't believe anything that's happening. Whatever this was, the sudden thing he'd gotten himself into while in his own home, he couldn't seem to pull himself away from it. A magnetic force is locking him in as you suck on his neck.

Mark moans, deliciously caught by Jeno’s mouth as he makes out with him briefly while holding him firmly by the waist. Mark can feel Jeno’s hard length, straining painfully against Mark’s back. His own cock hangs against his boxers, the crotch exposed as you pull his unbuttoned pants down.

His vision blurs. His mouth salivates but feels dry. He begins to get dizzy — he can't black out though, and even if none of this is quite right, he isn't mad at all. He loves it.

The desire in him burns as you push your own body onto the bed, admiring the two boys before you.

Your hand cups your boyfriend’s ass, digging your palm inside his back pocket. “Jeno, get your pants off now.”

“Want you to help me too.” He responds with a pout.

“How about you ask your friend over here to assist you?”

Jeno obediently turns to Mark with an expression akin to that of an excited puppy. It’s another sight that only you have seen, and Mark thinks it’s an honor to see it himself; his brain lags at the adorable blink Jeno gives, before pawing at his crotch.

“You’re so hard.”

“I know. Please help me.”

It doesn’t take Mark too long this time to fully respond to this request. He eagerly reaches for the button on Jeno’s pants and frees the strained crotch, leaving him in his boxers.

Something gets the best of him. Maybe it's because this is all wrong, or maybe it's a pent-up expression of all the times he's seen his best friend in boxers — it drives him more insane than it should, seeing his length while they change in the locker rooms — but whatever it is, it drives him to pull at the hem of his boxers, taking a peek at his cock.

And fuck, is he packing a lot.

Jeno's cock is veiny and it pulses as Mark ogles at it. It's long and thick enough — it might be a bit longer than Mark's, he thinks. It's veiny, the tip red and shapely. His balls hang not too far from his cock, barely seen from the size that greeted him for a second's worth. The shaft has a curve that greets Mark with a twitch.

The boy turns to you as if to ask permission, to which he does: “May I please play with him?”

“Not yet,” you tilt your head. “A bit too eager now, aren’t we?”

“But he—we—” he loses the words in his throat. His finger leaves the hem of Jeno’s boxers, but the boy cups his hip in desperation.

"I only allowed you to help him pull it down." At that, Mark's face sours. He salivates at the picture of Jeno's cock. He had never thought of his friend that way, never really considered the invitation that was always there — for the sake of "being bros." But now that it's here, you delay him the opportunity; so close yet so far.

Mark’s fingers only leave Jeno’s boxers when the man looks at him with an obedient eye.

“Let him play with you first.” Your voice almost echoes through the room. Jeno nods as if he received a secret command, only understood by you and him. Was it the curl in your tone that caused him to act?

Either way, it shocks Mark slightly when Jeno's strong arms pull him by his shoulders. His hands then crawl both behind his head and then down to his hips, bringing the two bodies impossibly closer — Jeno seems unfazed as he pulls Mark's shirt off next. He's used to the sight of his toned body, but seeing his chest flush in both embarrassment and lust is a new sight that budges Jeno's mouth into a soft smile.

“Mark, I want you to relax and enjoy. Jeno’s really good and I want him to be good to you.”

His hands graze lightly down Mark's body. The boy's skin raises into bumps of a once-pale, now-flushed frenzy, his body hairs rising as the other's delicate fingertips trail down his exposed arms and sides. Mark's chest is heaving, unable to catch a break or a breath.

It's all worse when Jeno kisses him once more, taking advantage of his open mouth. His hands stay on Mark's chest, fingers looking for his nipples — he finds them quickly and prods at them with pressure so good that it makes Mark moan. You laugh as if you're right; your boyfriend's really good, and the boy you've been eyeing is taking it well.

However, you’re getting impatient, having this go for too long for you to be satisfied.

You take good use of both of your hands and pull down their boxers, each hand being careful yet swift as you fist the fabric out of their skin, watching their beautiful cocks bounce. This interrupts the kissing — they gasp in unison and it’s music to your ears.

Unfortunately, you don’t follow up with any more words, leaving them to look at you with wide eyes. All you do is giggle to yourself, pat the tips of their oversensitive and deliciously hard lengths, and silently command them to do something.

Jeno acts first: eyes darting down to Mark's impressive length, he slides his thick cock beside the other. Their shafts rub, making Mark bite his lip, but his mouth opens anyway as their reddish-pink tips kiss each other.

Their size differences are more apparent this way; Jeno's cock seems thicker, and Mark's is longer. Deep in hyper-analysis, you urge them once again to rub their cocks together with simultaneous handjobs.

The sudden reintroduction of their hands leaves Mark squirming next to Jeno. He instinctively holds onto his shoulders for support, an adorable sight that neither of you has ever seen nor expected from "the dependable Mark."

You're slow with it first. Your hand makes its way from the tips, thumbs prodding playfully at the tiny holes sitting atop, only for your fingers to form rings, wrapping each individual digit around gradually as your palms slide down their lengths. Once you've wrapped the pinky around, you're at the base of their cocks, teasing to cup their balls — but before they could even moan for more, you're sliding up again. After a few more strokes, the pace picking up with each full slide up and down, they hump your hands with your pace until you pull away.

“I can’t be doing all the work.”

Your words are intimidating. The two boys take it with confusion as they lock eyes for a moment, cocks twitching centimeters away from each other.

Out of pure desperation, Mark thrusts his hips upward, rubbing his cock well up against Jeno's. The friction leaves him breathless, sharp bursts of pleasure combing through his nerves. With their closeness, Jeno could only mirror his movement in response. He holds Mark by his face with one hand, reaching his other down to connect their tips in his palm. The gesture shocks them both, the distance closing into zero inches, crotches and groomed bush hair pressed together.

You catch wind of Jeno’s heavy breaths. “You’re panting, baby.”

He looks up at you through hooded eyes, head thrown slightly back in pleasure. “I’m excited.”

“Such a puppy.”

Mark looks back and forth between the both of you as you exchange hot words. The buildup of heat in his stomach goes further down to his crotch until Jeno could feel the warmth on his cock's leaking tip. Embarrassed, he wordlessly attempts to turn his head away, but your hands—slimy as they are—hold his chin in place. He seems excited too, Jeno thinks to himself.

You move your hand with Mark’s chin on it close to your boyfriend’s face, coercing Jeno to kiss him again. Their mouths quickly open, jutting their tongues out to greet each other as they practically hump each other with their cocks pressed close. Jeno breaks away from the kiss to breathe, resting his forehead on Mark’s — the eye contact that they share after doesn’t break, though.

It’s an intense stare that holds no hard feelings, only incredibly hard cocks rubbing together as they near their highs. Mark seems to chase it first, but before anything could happen, you cock your head to the side.

You slap Mark’s bulging cock with a fierce spank.

It hurts only lightly, only since you slapped it with less of a force and more of a flick of your hand, but it still stings. Mark almost falls over, only caught by Jeno’s strong and muscular arms.

“What was that for?” Tears well up in his eyes but he doesn’t sound upset at all. He just genuinely wants to ask why he was denied the high and you can hear nothing but desperation in his voice.

All you do, though, is laugh in response. Jeno looks at him with fond eyes too, except he knows he’s in trouble next: his cock also started leaking precum. You run the pad of your thumb atop his leaking hole, blocking the flow ever so slightly. You then guide your boyfriend’s cock back to Mark’s, but you hold their shafts together in place with your one stretched hand, precum mixing and all.

“We’ve barely even started and you’re both acting like this?” Your voice is sultry yet stern.

The two merely whimper and shy their faces away. Mark looks down at the scene and amusement hits him all at once. The sight of his body and Jeno’s, naked and sweaty and held together by a singular hand on their cocks, makes him shiver and bite his lip.

“Sorry,” Jeno utters first, “I-It just felt too good.”

A breeze bellows through the room and it leaves all three of you with your hair raised, but you don’t budge a single bit. You turn to Mark.

“I…” Mark starts to speak yet nothing of substance comes out.

“Excuses are nothing, I know you’re both desperate.” Your hand leaves their slimy cocks. You don’t hesitate as you bring a finger to your mouth, tasting their sins as they writhe before you in slight embarrassment.

“How about you both show me how much you want me?”

It’s not supposed to be as shocking as it is, but the realization hits them both incredibly late that you’re still fully clothed, mostly untouched, left to be their eye candy as they fondled each other earlier. Jeno and Mark’s gazes fall through your entire body in all directions as they plot how they could start pleasing you.

Even if they both clearly wanted you, they restrained themselves and took out their desires on each other. That’s very obedient and patient of them, you think, and you don’t think it’s wrong to enjoy the sight.

Jeno's grasp on Mark loosens and leaves as he inches towards you, sweat dripping and everything, closing his face in on yours to kiss your lips deeply. You two always do this, accustomed to each other's rushes of warmth and intimacy every single time you kiss, and so it feels natural as Jeno latches his mouth on your neck next. His hands, trembling slightly yet not at all unsure, make their way to trace up the outline of your sides until they find your breasts.

He breaks away from working on a neck hickey as he examines your chest, restrained by layers of clothing that he wants off. Instead of impatiently reaching over the fabric, he takes his time to lift it from under and urge you to move it over your head. Mark watches intently, almost studying the movements while he refrains from reaching down for his pulsating cock.

Dare he even touch himself to the sight as he may be punished by not just you, but also Jeno.

“Not gonna do anything?” Jeno faces Mark with a smirk.

Mark stammers as he finds his words to ask permission. “Dude—uhm, can I?”

You laugh at how his hands hesitate to touch you, eager to even get ahold of your bra but still too scared.

“Please?”

All you do is smile with a nod. Jeno gives him way, pointing at the hook of the bra.

He first grabs ahold of your breasts by holding the bra cups, only to slide his hands to the sides of the undergarment, tracing your upper body until he's made his way backward; his fingertips find the hooks, unclasping them with only a bit of struggle — he knows what he's doing, he just gets nervous as your boobs flow out of the loosened bra.

It takes him a moment to even acknowledge that the beautiful view of your boobs inches away from his chest is all his doing. Jeno lets out a light snort, swinging his arm over Mark's red shoulders. He's blushing all over, flustered to high heavens.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”

“Damn right,” Mark agrees. “You’re fucking lucky, dude.”

Jeno pecks Mark’s heated cheek. “So don’t bring her in the next bets, yeah?”

The things that they say ring through your ears loudly. You’re living for Jeno’s protectiveness, Mark’s shocked expression, and the fact that they both proceed to work their way on your lower half.

They urge you out of your pants, the two men helping your legs out, kissing your skin as they expose themselves. You can't help but chuckle, moan a little bit, and even grab onto their skilled yet calloused hands. The two are unexpectedly gentle, working surprisingly in tandem to even just get you out of your clothes, all until you're naked.

All until they’re yours.

Jeno ends up kneeling down in front of you like a patient dog. Mark stands by your side, waiting.

As adorable as they are, you’re growing desperate for some more action, so you grab ahold of Mark’s cock and whisper in his ear.

“Be a dear and tell my baby to kiss me there.”

Mark gulps, tongue caught in a twist as he musters the courage to relay it to Jeno.

“Uhh, sh-she said…lick—no, kiss her.”

Jeno looks up at you in confirmation. You pet his head with your other hand. There are hearts in his eyes.

Without another word, Jeno doesn’t waste a second as he dives his head down.

Fiddling between your legs, he holds you by the backs of your inner thighs and does as he’s told. He nudges his nose around the area to get himself closer and closer to your heat. He kisses you, puckering his lips and smacking your clit ever so sweetly. He gets a light taste of your sweetness dripping wild from watching the two men act desperately earlier. You hum in content, stroking Mark's cock—still in your hand—ever so slightly.

Mark dips his head onto your neck. He attempts to kiss you in the same way Jeno does, warm and loving. Jeno himself digs his head further between your thighs, licking wide stripes with his tongue tapering up to the tip as he gets back on your clit. You shiver with a lustful smile.

Jeno continues to swirl his tongue from your clit back down to your entrance, allowing your slick to mix in with his drool. Mark refuses to even look you in the eye from all of the sinful sounds he’s hearing — you remedy that by pecking a kiss on his cheek mole.

“If you weren’t so cute, you’d be dead by now.”

Mark’s cock stiffens at that. It throbs, a long vein pulsing against your palm from your words alone. A part of him hates to admit that he’s glad he took up the bet if it led him here.

You grab a fistful of your boyfriend’s hair out of nowhere, pulling slightly at his scalp to signal him up. He misreads this at first, instead nodding his head back into your cunt, but you let out a light grunt and a hiss.

“Mmph—Sorry,” Jeno says, hands wobbling awkwardly at the backs of your thighs for support. “Needed me, baby?”

You raise an eyebrow. “I wanted you to only kiss me there, but…”

Jeno dips his head to apologize. He mutters on and on about how good you tasted, how sweet it felt, how lovely and velvety the skin around your clit was while he licked it. Mark’s face heats up impossibly more at the descriptions and subtle praises that Jeno has for your pussy.

“Oh, look who’s the jealous one now.”

Mark’s sweating bullets. “I-I’m not!”

“You can have a turn at it if you’d like.” The suggestion runs off your lips casually. So casual that it leaves him slightly puzzled, cock still aching in your hand.

“How about only ten seconds in my cunt?”

He blinks three times. You’re all down to absurd means of getting each other off and you’re about to fully abandon the circumstances that got you here. That got the both of them here.

He whips his head towards your boyfriend for approval, and Jeno only nods his head in your direction. "Her orders, man."

You laugh and kiss Mark, urging him down on the bed behind him. You push him by his shoulders and the look on his face, wide eyes and all, has you smirking.

“Ten seconds. Just to try it.”

You align your slit to match his red, slimy tip, sliding your cunt from your clit down to your wet entrance. You don’t let him in just yet, instead teasing him with a few slides, letting him feel the velvety friction of your pussy lips before he gets a taste of everything else.

“That feels good,” he breathes out.

“It’s not even in yet.”

“I’m just feeling as much as I can,” Mark smiles nervously. “I only got ten seconds after this—”

Before he could even get cocky, you fully sit down on his cock, slamming your cunt until he’s all the way inside.

He shivers, hitting his head back on the bed in pure pleasure. The wetness of your walls envelops him with a warmth he hasn’t felt anywhere else. Slowly yet surely, he begins to lose his mind to delirium as his cock throbs, almost vibrating inside you.

“Ten,” Jeno counts for you, watching the part where you both connect as he sits politely next to you both.

He refuses to touch himself even as he watches you lift your lower half away from Mark, the slick of your essence and leftover drool from Jeno slipping down the cock.

“Nine,” he continues, breath hitching as you wiggle your hips.

At this point, only Mark's tip is inside you, but before he can even do anything, you slam your hips back down. The smack of your ass on his thighs makes him groan loudly, the sweetness of his voice echoing in your ears.

“Eight.” You repeat your motions, swirling your hips slightly and letting the wetness drip ever so gracefully down your thighs onto his. “Seven.”

Mark rolls his eyes back. His balls hurt at this point. He’s strained and frustrated.

He turns his head. “Holy shit, Jeno, I’ll cum—”

“Hold it, easy now.” Unimpressed, Jeno instead leans forward to talk him down.

“Five,” he whispers, “four…”

All Mark can do is whimper through a bitten lip. Your hands roam around his chest for support, the unforgiving sensations haunting his skin as you touch his most sensitive areas.

“Three…”

Mark hisses. “Won’t you count any fucking slower?”

“Oh, you want me to cut it out?” You say with a stop.

Regret immediately washes over his wide eyes as you lift yourself off his dick.

“So close yet so far. What a pity,” you laugh, turning to your sweet boyfriend and feeling him up instead.

You maneuver your hips and align yourself over Jeno’s cock, teasing him the same way you did with Mark. You don’t enter yet and keep your wetness dripping on him before giving the neglected boy a wink.

“I didn’t say you couldn’t try my ass.”

A shock instantly rushes through his veins, coloring his skin flushed once more. He's been sweating, and it worsened once you suggested it. He tries to say anything about it but falls short of words when you urge him closer with the call of your fingers. Jeno watches in awe, lightly frustrated that his cock is so close to your cunt.

You grab Mark from the back, guiding his hips close to yours. He’s kneeling, holding onto your waist and hips for stability, ready to position his cock by your second entrance. He licks his hand, a generous amount of spit and drool wetting it, just more than enough for him to lube up your hole to take him.

Jeno’s cock throbs cutely from under, so you coo and kiss his tip with the warmth of your clit. He bites back a whimper.

It isn’t long before you invite Mark to enter you, lining up and guiding his cock inside, slowly stretching your tightest hole until the tip is in. Mark’s breathing heavily, sweating buckets as he feels how tight it is, hugging just the tip so hard that he could explode at any given moment.

You push your lower half back, adjusting to his girth and length, taking him inch by inch. You’re panting too, strained little moans escaping your throat as you struggle and succeed to take him all the way to the middle.

Once you’re nearly bottoming him out, you both still in place, allowing yourselves time to adjust.

Jeno still looks pitiful with his cock pushed against nothing but your clit. It only gives you an idea.

“Mark. Be a dear and fuck me hard when we’re good, yeah?”

Confused, he agrees with a nod. You both signal each other when it feels best to move, and with that, Mark fully pulls back before slamming his entire length back into your fit little ass.

The force from his thrust pushes you forward, sinking Jeno’s cock deep into your pussy.

The sudden action leaves Jeno groaning and Mark grunting. Both of their cocks fill you up with no room to breathe, the sensation of the two pulsating and hard lengths making you shake. You feel yourself close but you hold back for their sake.

Another thrust from Mark sends your cunt further down on Jeno’s cock. Your boyfriend even begins moving his hips, emptying your pussy only to fill it back up again. The other doesn’t stop, almost losing himself as he goes faster and faster, bit by bit, ecstasy hitting him soon.

“Mark, baby, you’re doing so good.”

Eyes lighting up, it takes five seconds—and a few moans in between—for Mark to realize that he’s the baby that you’re referring to.

Jeno also catches it late, but instead of the jealousy seeping back into his veins, the opposite manifests. He smiles, somehow proud of Mark for sharing a name that they both earned from you.

“Baby, come on, make me cum.”

You lean back, an arm thrown over to hold onto Mark for support. He keeps going, pushing his cock against your limit with each thrust, all the while Jeno leans forward to reach your clit and tease it.

Being filled and fucked all at once like this has all three of you on edge, but Mark can’t take it — he slips out of your ass and cums all over your back.

You don’t mind, instead falling forward to bounce on Jeno’s cock while he cums inside you next. That doesn’t stop him from flicking your clit with his experienced fingers, and you squirt all over him.

All three of you collapse on the bed, trying to overcome your highs.

“…That was fucking insane, man.”

Mark is the first to sit up, eyeing the both of you fucked out on his own bed. He has to clean up a lot, so much that it’s lightly embarrassing, but none of you seem to mind at all at that moment.

“Yo Jeno.”

Too tired to move his body, he simply raises an eyebrow while looking back at Mark. “What’s up?”

"I swear on my dick I'm not playing with you and Y/N, aight?" He scratches the back of his head, suddenly getting shy. "And, uh, I'm still sorry for the bet."

“Nah, it’s good. Just say you won, get the money, and run.”

Mark realizes that it could’ve just been that easy, that he didn’t have to do any of that. It’s way too late now, but at least he won and got laid.

“...And you can treat us to dinner with that cash,” Jeno adds with a wink.

The boy simply rubs his flushed face in his hands and sighs. Dinner with his newfound fuckmates isn’t so bad after all.

“Well, you’re free to shower, clean up, sleep, do whatever—”

You grab ahold of Mark’s arm and pull him back on the bed. He falls right between you and Jeno’s warm bodies.

Jeno shushes him with a side hug, and you giggle softly. Somehow none of this feels as disgusting as it should be while all three of you are in each other’s arms.

[redrose10]

Hey, Could I, please, have a story with picture number 2? It'd be awesome if you could turn it into a time traveller story, but you don't have to. I fully trust your talent and skills.

On the other hand, I think it's awesome how you could turn having very bad anxiety and panic attacks into such a nice short story. I hope you're better now. I don't know if you wrote it for the sake of the story or if it's true for you too, but The Last and Snooze are my two favourite songs from Yoongi :) I really loved that part in the story where you wrote about Yoongi's indigestion problems, it made me laugh.

Take care and get well soon :)

They are great songs that help a lot!

I hope this is okay. It’s kind of time traveler-ish but probably not what you were expecting. It’s spooky season themed too.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Here is number 2 from the picture game!

Warnings: mentions of death, very slightly suggestive, angst

Disclaimer: Some things may not be correct for the time period. I tried my best.

“Spells, Potions, and Magic, Solutions for the Everyday Witch”, you rolled your eyes before tossing the heavy ornate book into a box. You always knew that your neighbor Ms. M as she was called was a little on the odd side but when her daughter offered you $200 to clean out her moms home after she passed away, as a broke college student you couldn’t say no.

It was simple. You could keep anything you wanted and everything else got chucked into a large dumpster that was sitting outside. There was also this book that apparently Ms.M had insisted you have even though you thought it was a little weird. Other than the book you kept a few pots and pans, a couple vintage sweaters, and what looked like a handmaid quilt. You had a box of stuff you thought that maybe you could sell for a little extra cash too.

You felt bad just throwing away this woman’s entire life like she had never existed but that’s what you were paid to do.

After you were all finished you collected your payment and your items and headed back home to your place.

The box of stuff you were planning to sell consisted of mostly some jewelry, a very old vase, a Chanel purse you were praying was real, and the spell book. You knew the campus bookstore would definitely send some cash or at least store credit your way for that one and you did not want it taking up space in your already cramped home.

After making yourself some dinner your curiosity got the best of you and you started flipping through the pages of the book.

‘How to turn your enemy into a frog. A step by step guide.’, you rolled your eyes because how original?

‘Black cat following you around? Use this spell to reveal their true identity.’, okay maybe the cat is just hungry you laughed.

‘Death by chocolate cake’, you 100% expected to find just a normal recipe for chocolate cake which you did until the very last ingredient said a touch of arsenic and you realized they weren’t kidding about the death part.

Interestingly there was one page in particular that seemed to have been opened to more times than the others.

‘How to bring someone back from the twilight.’, useful I guess if someone accidentally ate your death by chocolate cake you chuckled.

You wondered if maybe Ms.M had spent much of her life trying to bring someone back from the dead, maybe a former lover. She was probably so grief stricken she was desperate and thought something as ridiculous as a spell could work. You felt bad for the woman and whomever it was that she thought she could bring back.

Putting the book aside you started going through some of the jewelry you took to see what was profitable. What looked to be a man’s ring caught your attention first. It was very intricate with a beautiful carving of what you thought was a jaguar. The eyes appeared to be made out of diamonds or so you hoped because that would definitely up the value when you try to sell it.

You went through some of the other jewelry but for some reason that book kept pulling your attention back to it. You went back to the page with the spell about bringing someone back. As you fidgeted with the jaguar ring you began to read,

“When the moon reaches full peak and the skies are clear, read this verse, there is nothing to fear. Lost in the twilight, shall be no more. Once true loves companion, completes the lore.”, what the hell you laughed. You would have thought this was meant as a Halloween book for toddlers or something if it wasn’t for the recipe on how to murder someone with chocolate cake.

Having had enough you decided it was time for bed and you’d deal with the stuff after your classes tomorrow. You kept the ring with you wanting to make sure it was safe and went upstairs to finish your nightly routine.

When you woke up the next morning you stretched feeling a little sore from all the heavy lifting you did the day before. You reached over to turn off your alarm clock when you felt an arm wrap around your waist and pull you close. It took a second for you to realize what just happened and that someone was currently in your bed with you, but once it hit you, it hit you like a bus.

You jumped out of bed in one quick movement stumbling for your light switch. Once the room was illuminated you got a good look at who was in your bed.

A man, yes a full grown man was peacefully sleeping next to you and at one point had his arm wrapped around you.

You had experienced one night stands before. It wasn’t your favorite thing to do but you had needs too. Never though had you ever had a one night stand that you didn’t remember. And you didn’t even leave your house last night so how did this happen?

What made you even more curious was that this guy didn’t look like the typical guys you were used to seeing around town. His hair was dark black and wavy and long, one side gently tucked behind his ear. His skin care routine must’ve been top notch because he didn’t have a single blemish and judging by how pale he was he either rarely left his house or was strict about sun protection. His clothes are what threw you off the most. Most of the guys you were around wore tshirts, hoodies, jeans, sweats and things like that. Not this guy. He looked like he was straight out of an 1800’s men’s fashion magazine, if that thing existed back then. The worst part was that you caught yourself staring at him a little too long. He was breathtakingly beautiful and you were a little sad that you didn’t remember anything from your time with him because you definitely would’ve liked to.

And then you reminded yourself that he was some guy you didn’t know and you should probably wake him up so he could get the hell out of your house and you could go on with your day.

Gently you poked at his shoulder but with no reaction. So you poked a little harder. This time he swatted at your hand and pouted which only made him look more beautiful.

So then you poked him even harder, “Um excuse me.”

This time he groaned before opening his eyes to look at you. It took a second but then he screamed and jumped out of the bed making you scream and jump back towards the door.

“Who are you?”, he asked groggy and out of breath.

That hurt a little that he didn’t remember you even though you were in the same boat but you’d like to think you were unforgettable so how dare he?

“Y/N, who are you?”

“Min Yoongi.”

“Okay Yoongi well whatever we did last night is over so it’s time for you to get going. I have class to get to.”, you said motioning towards the door.

You must’ve hit snooze instead of off on your alarm because it started making that familiar annoying ringing again.

Yoongi quickly brought his hands to his face to shield himself and he slightly crouched down, “What is that thing? Is it going to explode?”

You looked at him confused. “I wish. It’s just the alarm clock on my phone.”, you said showing him that you were turning it off.

He stood back up and smoothly moved his hair back behind his ear.

“Mmhm, where is the lavatory?”, he asked suddenly.

“I’m sorry what?”

“The lavatory, latrine…the toilet?”

“Ohh down the hall and first door on the left.”, you said pointing. He walked past you with a nod and you heard the door click shut.

“Jeeze, where did I find this guy?”, you asked yourself.

You took the time that he was in the bathroom to get dressed and went downstairs thankful that you had a second bathroom so you could finish getting ready there. Once you were done you went into the kitchen and got your coffee going and poured yourself a bowl of cereal, too tired to really cook anything. You took the book and the rest of the stuff from the night before and tossed it in the box so that it was out of the way.

After a few minutes Yoongi walked into the kitchen. You were kind of annoyed that he didn’t get the hint to leave but you still wanted to be polite because that was who you were, “Would you like some coffee?”

He nodded so you poured him a cup, “I have pumpkin spice or caramel macchiato flavored creamers.”

He looked at you with a straight face, “Pumpkins aren’t spicy.”

“Okay black it is.”, you whispered handing him the mug.

“Would you like some cereal?”, you asked.

Thankfully he shook his head because you had no idea how you would explain why your breakfast cereal had different colored marshmallows in it, something you just knew he would question.

You ate in awkward silence hoping he would eventually just get up and leave after realizing you weren’t interested.

Your phone which had been sitting on the counter charging dinged with a notification making Yoongi flinch back. “Why does that thing keep making noises?”, he asked still shaken.

“Well it’s a phone. That’s what they do.”, you said starting to get annoyed.

“Well back in my day there was only one phone for the whole city and it was attached to a wall at the courthouse and only made one sound.”, he said just as annoyed.

You took another bite of cereal unsure how to answer that but knowing that you needed to get this man out of your house and then reevaluate your life decisions.

“So uh did you need me to call you an Uber or something?”

“Uber?”

“Or Lyft or taxi or give you money for the bus?”, you said running out of options.

“Do you not have a horse and buggy to take me home in?”, he asked as if you were the odd one in this situation.

Slowly you shook your head, “Noooooo I’m sorry my buggy is currently in the shop and my horse is on vacation.”

You realized rather quickly that he did not appreciate the joke.

No longer having an appetite you started to collect your dishes when Yoongi grabbed your hand. He inspected it closely and that’s when you released you were still wearing the ring.

“How did you get that? That’s my ring.”, he asked.

“Umm it was in my neighbors stuff that I helped clear out yesterday.”

“Your neighbor? Where is she? I must see her.”

You were taken back a little by his outburst.

“Well she died about a month ago so I don’t really know how I can do that.”

Yoongi scoffed, “Good, I hope she’s burning in hell where she belongs that evil shrew.”

You raised an eyebrow not having heard anyone use that word outside of movies.

“How did it happen? Was she hung from the gallows? Slowly and painfully from Cholera?”, he asked a little too excited.

“Ummm she was like 100 million years old so I’m guessing that had something to do with it.”

“What year is it?”, he asked suddenly?

“2024”

“About 221.”, he stated matter of factly.

“I’m sorry?”

“She…your neighbor…Lenora…She was born in 1803 so she would be 221 years old.”

“And you know this how?”

“She’s my little sister.”

“Oookkkaayy”, you said, “Why is it always the hottest ones that are the craziest?”

“I am neither hot nor crazy. It’s quite chilly actually.” Yoongi said after overhearing you.

“No hot means like attractive, sexy, good looking.”, you said before feeling your cheeks heat up at the realization. Thankfully it seemed like he didn’t really understand anyways so you moved on.

“Sooo I’m gonna call someone to come give you a ride.”, you said reaching for your phone.

“A ride…with a horse?”

You smiled, “Uh no in a car with flashing lights that plays a song as it’s driving so people know to get out of the way.”

He looked impressed and nodded his head in acceptance.

“There it is!! I knew that evil witch had it this whole time.”, he suddenly gasped making you jump forgetting about the call you were trying to make.

Yoongi reached over taking the spell book that you had thrown in the box.

“I was looking for this. I knew she had it but she refused to give it back. She probably knew I’d become even stronger with it in my possession.”

“Stronger?”

He nodded, “Yes and then I’d become The Supreme.”

“The Supreme?”

He sighed, “The Supreme Witch. We’re witches. Do they teach nothing at school any more?”

“Sorry I haven’t taken Witches 101 yet. I’ll see if they offer it next semester.”

He shook his head, “Don’t bother. I’ll teach you.”

You sighed but took a seat anyways.

“You see every two hundred years a new supreme is appointed to each coven. A selection of witches go through seven different tests to gage their strengths and weaknesses. My sister and I were in the finale up against each other tied three to three. She knew there was no way she could beat me in the finale test on her own. So somehow she disabled my protector spell while I was sleeping and she used a curse to send me to the twilight. I’ve been stuck there ever since…until you got me out somehow. Are you a witch by the way? What family do you belong to?”

You chuckled, “Yeah definitely not a witch. All I did was read something from that book. It was a page that seemed to be used a lot. Maybe your sister was trying to get you back.” He started flipping though the pages of the book when a photo fell out. It was black and white and low quality but you could still make it out. Yoongi stood smiling next to a woman you figured to be his sister and former neighbor. You could definitely see the resemblance of your former elderly neighbor in the young smiling woman’s face. Yoongi looked exactly the same just with a big gummy smile that made your heart race.

He smirked as he looked over the photo, “Doubt it. We’ve always hated each other.”

He read something on the back that you couldn’t see before tucking the photo in the book.

“Can you take me to the city? I need to speak with someone.”, he suddenly asked.

You checked the time and figured since you were already late for class and probably dead for all you knew at this point, you agreed.

“Sure but first we need to get you to change your clothes.”

Yoongi looked offended, “What’s wrong with my clothes? These are very expensive and in high fashion.”

“Maybe in the 1800s but right now you look ridiculous.”, you chuckled.

Thankfully you had a stash of your brothers clothes that he always forgot whenever he visited you and they might just fit your new friend.

When he finally came downstairs your mouth unapologetically dropped open. You thought he looked good before but this was on a whole other level. The jeans fit perfectly. The tshirt a tinsy tiny bit too tight in the arms and chest area but no one would complain. The Jordans that you knew your brother would kill you if he saw you letting anyone else wear looked like they were made just for Yoongi. He had put his hair in a half up half down situation and you were wondering where he got the hair tie from but you didn’t care because you were ready to buy them in bulk for him anyways.

“NOW I look ridiculous. This is how men dress these days?”, he said feeling insecure with you staring at him.

“You know if we stop at the seamstress I’ll have her patch your brothers pants. Poor guy can’t even afford to fix the holes.”, he continued.

“It’s done on purpose. They’re supposed to look like that.”, you laughed

This time it was Yoongi’s mouth that dropped open, “Wait so he actually pays money to buy pants that already have holes in them?”

You nodded and laughed, “Yeah a lot of money too.”

He shook his head in disbelief.

In the car you showed him how to use the seatbelt and once he was comfortable you started the engine.

“Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday

Seven days a week

Every hour, every minute, every second

You know, night after night

I'll be lovin' you right, seven days a week”, blasted through the speakers reminded you that you were definitely not the same person you were last night so you turned the volume way down.

“Ugh what is that racket?”, Yoongi questioned with his hands over his ears.

“That’s Jungkook. He’s like one of the most popular musicians right now.”

“This is considered music now?!”

“Yeah it is.”, you laughed showing him a photo of Jungkook on your phone.

“He’s adorable.”, Yoongi cooed, “And HE’S the one that sings such a stupid song about days of the week?”

“Well the song is not really about days of the week”.

Yoongi stared waiting for you to continue, “It’s about…it’s about sex.”

His eyes went wide. “And they let that be played to the public?”, he hissed almost more embarrassed than you.

“Yeah this song is pretty mild compared to others.”, you chuckled.

You offered to drive in silence but Yoongi insisted on listening to more of this Jungkook fellows music which you happily obliged.

“Where exactly are we headed? I kind of need to know where to drive.”, you asked.

“Well it’s a book store. It’s right next to the horse stable and across from the general store.”

“Okay well uh I’ll start driving and you tell me if anything looks familiar.”

Yoongi was amazed by all of the new technology. Traffic lights, billboards, hundreds of cars passing by.

“Wait wait wait…So we don’t even have to get out of the car? They just hand us the drink through that little window?”, he asked after you had stopped to use a drive thru for a snack.

You smiled as you watched his eyes light up when he sipped on a pumpkin spice latte completely forgetting about his disdain about it earlier.

Eventually you somehow made it to the location he wanted which also happened to be the campus bookstore.

You followed Yoongi inside and watched as he walked right up to Jimin who was standing at the counter.

“Hi Y/N”, he smiled until he noticed Yoongi standing next to you, “Yo-Yoongi?”

“It’s been a while. How is Emmy?”, he asked.

“She’s good. We have two kids now, two little girls.”

Yoongi nodded, “I’m so glad to hear that. I’d love to meet them.”

“You look good.”, Jimin praised him but Yoongi scoffed, “I look absolutely ridiculous.”

“No man this is what the kids these days are wearing. You fit right in.”

You watched on in awe as you found out that the guy who worked at the campus bookstore whom you at one point had a small crush on was apparently a 250 year old witch who was also married to a fairy. And he was now talking to a 250 year old witch who you accidentally brought back from something called the twilight where his sister, your deceased elder neighbor, sent him over a hundred years or so ago. You thought you were going crazier by the minute.

“So do you have it still?”, you heard Yoongi ask Jimin.

“Yeah uh she dropped it off about six weeks ago. She probably knew her time was coming. I thought about throwing it away since I didn’t think there was any chance but I’m glad I saved it since you’re here.”, he said handing over a small envelope to Yoongi.

“Thank you.”, he nodded before turning to leave the store. You said goodbye and followed after him outside.

Once back in your car he stared at the envelope in his hands. His name elaborately written on the front.

You remained silent realizing that he was going through something. It seemed like he was afraid of whatever was in that letter.

Gently he broke open the seal watching as the letter floated up in front of him and unfolded. A voice that you recognized as your neighbors began to speak,

“Hello brother, Good to see that you finally made it out of the twilight. I admit that I only sent you there because I fully believed you would be able to get yourself out of there in no time.

Honestly every-time a black cat crossed my path I thought it was going to be you. I know they were your favorite to shift into. If I had known that I’d never see you again though, I never would’ve done it. I missed you Yoongi. It was hard going through life without you. I hope that you can forgive me and maybe we can see each other again one day.

I left the spell book with my neighbor. Her name is Y/N. I think you’ll like her. She’s got a good head on her shoulders and there’s something special about her. I can sense it. I think she could be the one.

Take care Yoongi. Love your little sister and still the better witch, Lenora.”

There was a spark and then then letter burst into a hundred little pieces before disappearing into nothing.

“Ar-Are you okay?”, you asked after noticing he hadn’t moved.

He smiled, “Yeah better than I thought I would be. That’s all I ever wanted from her. An apology and to know she was okay.”

You nodded then began to drive home when he cleared his throat, “Y/N, can I court you?”

“I’m sorry, what?”, you chuckled.

“Can I court you? Like we spend time together and talk and hold hands and then kiss and then eventually we partake in the sexual pleasure of each other?”

You choked on air, “Oh you’re asking me out, like on a date?”

“Sure if that’s what you want to call it.”

“Yes I’ll go on a date with you but let’s start with dinner or coffee and then slowly work our way up to sexual pleasures.”, you smiled hoping he couldn’t see you blush.

He shrugged his shoulders, “I mean you did call me hot and I have been told that my tongue can work magic on the body that no spell could ever do but suit yourself. We can stick to pumpkin spice lattes if you’d prefer.”

You awkwardly laughed before deciding to hit the gas pedal just a tiny bit harder.

[leeknowslaughh]

Wind Breaker chapter 156 spoilers!!!

I was a little worried I wouldn’t get the time to read/post today since SO much has happened in my life this week! I found out I’m pregnant (this is a good thing! My husband and I are v happy), I got a promotion at my corporate job that I don’t like and I have three concerts I’m going to this week!

All of that to say, I’m grateful for this chapter to have arrived when it did and that I had the time to read it!

On to my thoughts!

I loved this! We get to see Umemiya’s thought process a bit more and it’s not like he’s just suddenly putting the blame on his own shoulders. Instead, to me, it’s like he realized that Takiishi didn’t want to leave Furin, but Umemiya had outgrown him - without getting to know him.

I want to make it clear though that Takiishi’s behavior is super toxic and I don’t think that responsibility should fall onto Umemiya AT ALL. But I understand him a bit better after this chapter.

Umemiya was so full of rage in the previous chapters that he hadn’t really noticed Sakura there at all. And now that his mind is clear, he’s able to fight for him instead of fighting angry which is much more his style.

I also love that he acknowledged that Sakura being there meant he beat Endo !!! Which yes!!! I’m always excited when my baby gets the recognition he deserves. Umemiya never let’s me down!

THANK GOD I THINK THIS FIGHT IS FINALLY ENDING!

Goodness, I felt like we’ve been in the last inning of a baseball game with two outs and two strikes foreverrrr

Not that I didn’t enjoy every minute, just that it really, really makes me happy to know that since this fight seems to be reaching its end - we’ll get post Noroshi War arc which will hopefully have lots of fluff.