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souliebird · 2 days

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[[and then I met you || ch 22]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.

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Words: 4.3k

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It takes you a little over an hour to get Minnie to go down for bed. Tomorrow is her birthday party and to say she is excited is an understatement. She was practically jumping off the walls and it took three different books, a bottle, and two lullabies to finally get her to drift off. You are thankful when she doesn’t sit up again and call for you after five minutes, because you have a lot to do.

You need to clean up the apartment and decorate, you need to prepare pancake batter for a princess style breakfast, you need to finish wrapping presents, and you need to set up the couch for Matt. He will be coming by after his Patrol so he can stay the night and Minnie can wake up to the surprise of him being there, which is the perfect way to start her celebratory weekend.

But before any of that, you need to go take a shower so you can have a proper breakdown.

When you were younger, you believed crying was a sign of weakness. Your parents had treated it as such, always dismissive if you cried. The reason had never mattered - shedding tears was pointless and for children, so you had learned to bottle everything up and push it all down until the act of crying physically hurt you. Only very recently did you accept that crying is healthy.

You still hate doing it, though, and the only way you have found to balance your shame and your need for that emotional release is to treat it like another task you need to accomplish.

You triple check your daughter is truly asleep before you close the door to the bathroom and start the water. You keep yourself composed as you strip and only once you are under the spray do you let the tears start to fall.

So much has happened in such a short time and your anxiety has been through the roof.

The first bill for your hospital stay arrived today and you have been too scared to open it. You are terrified to go back into medical debt - giving birth in the United States had drained a lot of your savings and you have built it back up. You know there are all sorts of hidden fees, and you are going to need to do so much work contacting the various billing offices to try to get prices down.

It isn’t even like you are fully recovered from being in the hospital in the first place. You only just finished your antibiotics last week and your ear still randomly throbs or rings.

But honestly, you don’t know if that is from being sick or almost having your head bashed in.

You thought you would be okay after the attack. You thought Minnie would be the one with problems - having nightmares and jumping at shadows - but after the first day of making sure you were okay, she’s been fine. You haven’t been.

You’ve been plagued with nightmares about hands around your neck. You’ve been jumping at shadows when you leave the apartment.

You keep constantly checking your locks and you debate ordering pepper spray.

You don’t know what to do.

You aren’t okay.

You don’t feel safe.

The only time you have felt secure is when Matt was there to hold you and remembering such only signals your brain to send a new wave of tears.

He confuses you in a way no one else ever has.

You have never met anyone who cares so much before. It is overwhelming how much he loves Hell’s Kitchen - enough so to become a vigilante to protect it - and it is overwhelming how much he loves Minnie. You thought only you could love her that much.

Seeing them together does things to your heart you don’t understand. You just want to watch them play and bond until the end of time. They smile and laugh, and it is the only time you ever feel Whole. You feel like everything is perfect when the three of you are together.

You don’t know what to make of that. You don’t trust yourself with it - you’ve never felt like that before and you are scared that if you think too hard about it, you’ll find a flaw and the feeling will be ruined.

You just want Matt to hold you while the two of you watch Minnie play and that isn’t an okay fantasy for you to have. You don’t have that type of relationship with him.

He is a naturally touchy person with a huge heart. You’ve seen him hug Karen and Foggy before and you know he has only ever wrapped his arms around you to comfort you.

And he wants to comfort you because you are the mother of his child. He wouldn’t be around if it weren’t for Minnie and that is something you need to remind yourself of.

Matt loves Minnie. Family is extremely important to him, and he has told you time and time again that he strives to be the best dad possible for her - so of course that means he needs to take care of you and make sure you have a positive relationship.

If you and Matt butt heads, that wouldn’t be what was best for Minnie.

You need to do what is best for Minnie.

Which means you need to stop crying and get to work.

You wipe at your tears until they start to slow, then wash your face while still under the spray. It takes a minute or two for you to fully calm down, but once you do, it is like the tap is turned off. Crying time is over, so you stop your shower and quickly dry off so you can get dressed.

You feel better, but in a kind of dull way. It is like all the pressures in your life have been turned down to something more manageable and you know you will be able to focus on your tasks without slipping into a panic attack.

The apartment is not nearly as dirty as you believed it to be. You have to straighten some things up and you take the time to wipe down all the flat surfaces, but after that, you start putting things up. There’s a pink and yellow Happy Birthday banner and you blow up a few inflatables you found shaped like flowers and stick them to the walls. You twirl streamers together to decorate the back of the couch and the dining chairs, and your favorite piece is the pink sparkle fringe to hang over the hallway entrance. It isn’t the most elaborate of set ups, but you know Minnie will love it and that is all that matters to you.

Once your living space is Birthday themed, you turn to the kitchen. You went shopping today to make sure you had everything needed for a spectacular breakfast. You found a recipe for extra fluffy pancakes, and it seems easy enough - it calls for letting the batter rest overnight and you particularly like that as it is one less thing to do in the morning while trying to handle a rowdy toddler.

It doesn’t take long to get everything prepped and before you know it, it has been close to two hours since you put Minnie down to sleep and you feel it is finally safe to bring her presents out of their hidey holes to be wrapped.

She has grown a bit since you last bought her clothes, so you got her a nice little haul, including a new princess dress for her to wear to the zoo. It has sparkles and tulle and the dress comes with a matching crown you just know she won’t want to take off. You are extremely proud of the find.

You didn’t just get her clothes, though. Minnie has been more and more interested in helping you cook, so you got her a little kitchen play set. It comes with pots and pans, knives, utensils, bowls, plates, and some fake food. You thought it would be fun to have her practice her skills - she’s a pro at helping you stir and mix, and she knows how to use a butter knife to cut up fruit. You hope she enjoys pretending to wash her dishes, so you lure you into helping into that part of cooking, but you don’t think anyone finds that chore fun.

Before you can start wrapping, you need to go through everything and remove all the tags and stickers. It is a boring activity that takes far too long, so you decide you are going to multitask while doing so. You grab your laptop and notebook and settle down among your pile of bags.

Since your talk with Matt about Daredevil, you have been in research mode. The first few nights, you read every article you could find about the Devil. You started with the reputable sources - purely focusing on news reports - and once you had a timeline of events down, you switched to opinion pieces. You quickly ended up sorting those into three categories - positive outlooks, negative outlooks, and outlooks written by Karen Page.

You took notes on everything - making pro and con lists on each major event and circling back to jot down questions you had. You felt insane - and frankly a little invasive - but it was how you processed things. You wanted it all laid out nicely in front of you so you could come to your own conclusions.

But to get to that final conclusion, you still have a lot of internet sleuthing to do, so you open up a new internet tab.

One of the most important things you want to know about Daredevil is how real people feel about him. Published articles are always biased - it is in their nature to be based purely on who produces them - but social media lets the mass in on the conversation. You learned that well after the Attack on New York.

You remember the majority of the news singing praise for the Avengers and how they saved the Earth - which you truly did appreciate - but no one came and spoke to the people whose lives had been ruined. Sure, they talked about how much destruction had happened and how much it would cost to rebuild, but no one had mentioned how Hell’s Kitchen and Chelsea had been almost flattened. No one cared about the low-cost homes that had been destroyed or the poor people crushed in debris - not when they could talk about the Big Bank buildings the Hulk had run through. Why talk about those genuinely affected when you could bring in a mouthpiece who was halfway across the world?

Iron Man didn’t give two shits about the people whose lives he saved. If he did, he’d help them in the aftermath, and he didn’t. None of the Heroes did - they started going around the world while an uncaring government was left to clean up the mess. Repairs went to the lowest bidder and many things were deemed too expensive and just left to crumble.

But only internet forums and ten second social media videos talked about that.

Matt talks so passionately about helping people in Hell’s Kitchen, so you need to know if it is real, or just all a puff piece.

You look first into the forums and to your surprise, there is a whole section for New York vigilantes. You resist the urge to dive into the threads about Spider-Man and the Hero of Harlem and you have to scroll to the bottom of the front page to find something about Daredevil.

It is CCTV footage of Daredevil chasing off what looks to be some teenagers trying to rob a pawn shop and there are a few dozen comments under it. You smile as you start to read them - the majority of it is praise for Matt, with the few negative comments being about the quality of footage.

And each thread you find about Daredevil is like that. You expected to see issues with excessive force like you saw in the opinion pieces, but there is nothing. People who you can tell are locals all comment about how he doesn’t hurt kids, and his punishments reflect the severity of the crime. Muggers get a few good swats while those who commit domestic violence are given as good as they gave. It is gang members and real dangers who end up in the hospital. There are about a handful of posts giving firsthand accounts of how the Devil helped them - ranging from them being in serious danger to Matt helping a drunk woman safely get a cab.

From what you can see, the people who post in this forum like the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen and genuinely feel safer with him around. The site is a little niche, though, so you switch to a more popular platform to see if you can find different opinions and different opinions you find.

Just not the ones you expected.

There is a new picture of the Devil that has gained traction in his tag that is rather good quality - Matt is squatting on a roof, seemingly observing a street, and is framed in such a way to show off his lower half. His thighs, which you know are all muscle, are highlighted wonderfully and the angle of the photo only emphasizes his backside. His upper back and shoulders are all in shadow, but you can tell just how broad they are.

Twitter absolutely loves the image, and you think you have to agree with them. You can feel your cheeks heating up and you can’t seem to tear your eyes away from the screen.

Matt is beyond physically attractive, and it is no wonder the internet is lusting after him. There is a litany of lewd comments from multiple people and one made by a user with a cartoon frog as their profile picture has your core twitching and you quickly hide your face in your hands.

“imagine him bending you over a rooftop and fucking you until all you can do is drool ♥”

You don’t want to think dirty thoughts about Matt. It makes you feel awkward and guilty but mostly they make you Want, and you desperately want to bat that away.

You very obviously have slept with him before and know what a good lover he is. You know what his skin feels like against yours and your mouth goes dry at the memory of how loudly he moaned while between your legs. His stamina is no joke, and you can only imagine it has improved since he’s started being a vigilante.

You have no doubt he could easily fuck someone stupid.

You tell yourself you can’t think like this - you are supposed to be researching Daredevil to figure out how you feel about Matt being a vigilante - not ogling pictures of his ass and remembering your night together.

You gently smack your cheeks a few times and tell yourself to focus.

That only serves to make you more flush, so you make the executive decision that you have had enough screen time for the night and slam shut your laptop.

You have removed all the tags from the clothes, and you only have a few UPC stickers to pull off fake food, so you hurry through those so you can get to actually wrapping presents and not thinking about what you saw.

It is easy for you to get quickly lost in this new activity. Your perfectionist nature has you needing to make sure every crease is even and crisp and that each present looks picturesque, and you can't do that while distracted. Your thoughts shift from the way Matt’s breath felt against your skin to how many gifts Minnie has and how each one needs to look unique.

You know Minnie is going to tear through them like a wildfire, but it is important to you to make sure love is poured into everything.

You never got that as a child. Your birthdays were practical affairs and more often than not your present was to go clothes shopping, so you didn’t get to unwrap things or have that grand surprise. You don’t want that for Minnie. You want her to feel like an absolute princess on her special day and if that means rewrapping the same present four times to make it perfect, then that is what you will do.

You are finalizing bow placements on the gift bags you had to use for odd shaped items when your phone vibrates with an alert.

For a split second you are confused - it is rather late, and you’ve muted most app notifications - but then you remember Matt is meant to be coming over.

You don’t know how it could have slipped your mind and embarrassment burns through you.

How are you going to face him after staring at a picture of his ass until your brain broke?

You hesitate to check your phone, but when you do, you obviously have a text from him saying he is on his way. You groan to yourself, wondering how you can save yourself from this awkward situation?

Maybe you can go to bed early. You aren’t at all tired - you usually are up for another few hours - but you have a long weekend ahead of you. You will need rest.

In your bed.

Where Matt will not be.

Because, for the first time in a while, he will be sleeping on the couch.

Which you still need to prepare.

You finish fussing with Minnie’s bounty of presents and set about arranging them up the Happy Birthday banner like it is a Christmas tree. You have to resist your urge to nitpick and instead turn your focus to cleaning up your mess. You hurriedly shove the pile of trash you made into a bag so you can toss it and your wrapping supplies are tucked into the back of the closet, where they will live until you need them again.

You do a quick once over to make sure everything is neat and birthday ready before you fetch your spare pillow and blanket.

You try to not feel guilty as you start making up the couch. You know it isn’t the most comfortable and Matt will probably be sore after doing God knows what all night, but you can’t offer him your bed again. There is no reason for him to be in your bed. As frantic as you are, you don’t need any comforting.

You just need to stop thinking.

But not in that way.

“Stop,” you hiss at yourself. “Stop being a slut. Pure thoughts. Have pure thoughts.”

Scolding yourself does not work as well as you mean it to and all you can do is pour your concentration into folding and refolding the blanket. You roll it up tight first like it is a sleeping bag, then you think that is stupid, so you fold it into a triangle. You realize that is trying way too hard, so into a square it goes.

The knock at the door startles you and to your credit, you don’t scream.

You do, however, bury your face into your hands again and take a deep breath. You are panicking over nothing. Everything is just fine. You are overthinking.

You mentally chant that mantra as you go to the door. You hesitate to open it, needing the extra moment to center yourself, and you are surprised you don’t automatically close it again at the sight of Matt.

His normal daytime attire is a suit, and he wears them like a model, but you much prefer him dressed down as he is now. He’s in a t-shirt and joggers, with a five o’clock shadow and fluffed up hair, and he looks devastatingly handsome. He looks friendly and soft, but everything is just tight enough to show off how toned he is.

Your body reacts exactly like it did to the picture, but this time you can’t hide.

So, you run instead.

“Come on in,” you practically squeak out before hurrying to get out of his way. He’s got a gym bag with him - probably to carry his clothes for tomorrow - and your entryway isn’t the largest. It makes sense for you to go back to the living room.

“Busy night?” He asks as he closes and locks the door, and you are completely thrown by the question. You must make a confused noise, because he follows up with, “You are out of breath, is everything okay?”

Your heart starts to beat hard in your chest and you can feel your entire body getting hot. Of course, he can tell what is going on with your body and you are nearly in full panic mode.

You need to get to bed and away from him.

You fail at keeping your composure by gesturing around the living room, “Yeah - um - just been busy. Decorating and stuff - it’s a big day tomorrow.”

“It is,” Matt agrees, a charming and boyish smile creeping onto his lips. You tell yourself he must be excited for Minnie’s birthday and that is why he is in such a nice mood.

“How was..how was your night?”

He hums at the question, moving to set his bag down by the couch, “It was relatively quiet. With school starting up again and the heat, the younger crowd isn’t out. I made a few laps but didn’t find anything worth going after.”

“So, there isn’t like…crime every night?” You ask, trying to wrap your head around it all. You haven’t actually asked what a Patrol consists of, so you don’t know what the average one is like.

“Despite what everyone thinks, no. There’s a good number of nights where I just keep things tidy, but being out helps to deter people as well. Not every night is drug busts and gang wars.”

“That is good to know.” And it is - it helps to ease your anxiety that he is out there constantly boxing people. People say New York is crime ridden, but it is not nearly as bad as it is made out to be. It is all scare tactics and sensational news - like the Satanic Panic.

Matt hums again, then tilts his head back towards where you hung the birthday banner, “That is a lot of presents.”

His smile is still bright, and you have to duck your head and bite your lip to keep your mind in check. Your mouth, as always, is quick to quip, “I’m not telling you what is in them. It’s a surprise.”

“A surprise, huh?” He teases, before kneeling down by his bag and unzipping it. You can see colorful wrapping paper peeking through, and you instantly wonder what sort of gift is inside.

“A surprise,” you repeat. “It isn’t any fun if everyone knows what is inside before it is opened.”

“I’ll concede to that, even if it is tempting to peek.” As he says this he stands up, holding three different sized packages in his hands. They aren’t as pristinely wrapped as yours, but you can tell great care went into it and you wonder if Matt did it himself.

“Foggy said they will come over around noon,” he says like you aren’t on the verge of a crisis. “And Maggie was hoping we could stop by on the way to the park. I told her it would be up to you, but I know she has a few things for Minnie. We’re probably going to need to bring that wagon you got.”

The idea of so many people coming to your apartment for a party - especially a toddler’s birthday party - boggles your mind but your heart soars that so many people want to celebrate your daughter. You watch as he goes to add the gift pile and that confusing feeling swirls in your chest again, reminding you this is everything you ever wanted for Minnie. Matt being in your life means more people to love your daughter like she deserves.

“Okay,” you say because that is all your mind can produce. When Matt begins to stand again, you go into a panic thinking he might say something to start a conversation and blurt out, “I should get ready for bed.”

He turns to you, and you don’t know what to expect, but it is not for him to look bemused. He raises his eyebrows over his glasses and lets out a huff of a laugh, “It’s a big day tomorrow. You should get your rest.” He isn’t condescending or rude about it, but you can definitely hear the hint of teasing.

Your face burns as you nod and stupidly repeat, “It’s a big day.” You clear your throat to try and regain some composure and point towards the couch, “I, uh, left you out pillows and a blanket. The..uh..remote for the fan is on the coffee table. I readded the labels after Minnie tore them off.”

“Thank you,” he says with full sincerity, and you cannot take any more of his charm and muscular biceps.

“I’m going to go to bed now,” you tell him as you start to back up towards the bedroom. You know you should tell him about the fringe covering the hallway, but you just want to flee and hide under your covers until your brain stops all of its nonsense.

“Okay.”

As you finally let yourself turn away from Matt, he says your name just loud enough for you to barely hear it. You freeze in place, but it is like your blood is boiling inside you. You breathe out his name in response.

“Good night.”

((“I love you.”))

a/n: orz please take this offering of a chapter - my brain is not working up to standard.

Also - Tomorrow is a Big Day

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#soulie writes #fanfiction #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #and then i met you

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arcanefox207 · 3 days

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The Wolf You Feed (Part 3)

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Rating: Explicit, 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 6.2k

Part 3 / ? (Ongoing Series) (AO3) (Previous Chapters)

Summary: Set in a fictional New England town, you fall for your handsome, intense and outdoorsy neighbor while renting out your parent's vacant summer home during a brutal winter.

Warnings: No Outbreak, AU but with TLoU characters, Large age gap (Reader is 29. Joel is 50ish). Pet names but no use of Y/N. Reader is smaller than Joel and has hair he can grab. POV Switching. Series contains Angst and lots of Smut (to avoid chapter specific spoilers you can expect things such as but not limited to Unprotected PiV, Cream Pies, Oral, Masturbation, Dom!Joel, Subby reader, Pining, Infidelity, Edging)

A/N: Chapter 3 starts off VERY Angst heavy! The majority after that is full on smut with some plot development. I'd love to hear feedback on what you think of this chapter. It took me longer to write because I really wanted to nail the angst part so I challenged myself to really make that part hit some feels.

A O 3 | M A S T E R L I S T | N O T I F I C A T I O N S

Comments / Reblogs are so incredibly appreciated 🧡

[Joel POV]

Joel sits waiting with a scowl as Tess passes him and joins him across the booth. After a day or two they finally made plans to get together briefly at lunch to talk.

His scowl softens when he looks at her. His untouched cup of coffee sits between them like a mediator. She leaves her jacket on with no intention of being there long.

He comes out and says it. Calmly and softly.

“I can’t do this anymore.” His gaze faces downward and avoids her face.

“Do what?” Tess askes, acting puzzled by their conversation.

Joel gestures his finger pointing between the two of them. His face is solemn as his eyes reluctantly lock with hers.

“You gotta be kidding me.” Tess scoffs. She searches his eyes for more information but his stare is cold and serious.

“Whats got you so noble all of a sudden?” She teases, still not really believing him. He can see her working it out in her head.

Joel wants to tell her all about you, but he knows he can’t.

“Do what you want. I’m not your wife.”

Joel wants to believe that, but he knows her too well. He hasn’t had success with anyone else in a long time because he hasn’t really tried. Nothing serious, anyways. She knows he is loyal to her at the end of the day. Always has been and always will be. The permission to do whatever with whomever is just an illusion. It never had been challenged before and was just empty words.

Tess has always had a way to keep Joel on her leash. They were too comfortable with how things were. Their history was long and tumultuous but it was familiar. She had been there for him at his darkest times and he felt an obligation to her. One he had been content with fulfilling. The allure of familiarity was strong, but it was waning and Tess was too preoccupied to stop it.

“Tess, this thing we have isn’t working.” He pauses. “It hasn’t been working.” His words have more bite than he intended as they leave his mouth.

“This thing?” Her eyes narrow as she accentuates the word. “Joel, tell me what is really going on.”

The guilt was starting to get to him. It wasn’t fair to Tess and it wasn’t fair to you. It shouldn’t even be an issue, really. Joel’s conflict just further confirmed how entwined he was with Tess and the last thing he wanted to do was hurt her.

It was no secret that Tess and Joel were a thing. They were both well respected and liked in town but also had a reputation for being intense if you crossed them. Everyone knew that Joel would break their jaw if they put their hands on Tess for any reason or gave her any trouble. He was her protector and her lover. Whichever one she needed. It was common knowledge that they were in a situationship. There was no romance, but they had an unspoken claim on each other.

“Whatever this is you are going through is fucking weird.” She waves her hand in front of her, mimicking his ambiguity. Her voice is a little more shaky than before, but still holding back any real emotion.

He looks down at his coffee. He can feel her gaze boring into him, searching for the source of this conversation. The shame is permeating from him like a stink he can’t wash off and she can smell it.

“So you’ve been fucking around with someone else?” She asks bluntly. Piecing it all together.

“I didn’t exactly go looking for it.” He says, coldly. Annoyed by her accusation that was by all counts correct.

“Jesus, Joel.” Her tone is filled with disgust more than anything.

“Don’t, Tess.” His words bite. “You’re never around. Don’t act like we are anything more than that.”

“Only when you want to get your dick wet.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“Fuck you.”

Joel sits, silent. Biting his tongue and trying to keep his cool. He doesn’t want to admit it, but she is right. The one constant in his life the past few years has been Tess. They never were successful in making the leap to something legitimate. They were both too headstrong and too stubborn.

Oil and water.

Despite that, they had amazing sexual chemistry, when they made time for each other. Joel had stupidly suggested it might be practical if they moved in together, but she shot that down. Joel wanted some semblance of a relationship and her resistance to that started driving a wedge between them. Things only got more toxic and strained between them after that. Their interactions had been slowly reduced to just the occasional fuck after drinking at the bar and a whole lot of arguing.

Then you came along. The catalyst that made him question why he was just staying complacent with Tess and how sustainable that really was going to be. You did it all without realizing it.

“I don’t have time to play games, Joel.”

“Tess…” He stares at her. “I ain’t playing.” The words come out firmly through gritted teeth and his balled up fist slams on the table making the contents on the surface rattle.

As much as Tess could be intimidating, it was nothing compared to a worked up Joel Miller. She scoots out from the booth and stands up in a huff, clearly over this conversation.

“When you’re done having your fun, don’t come looking for me.”

Her prickly demeanor tears away at his resolve. He doesn’t want to lose Tess, but he doesn’t know how to quit her either. She knows it, too. Dangling her threat in front of him to keep him on the hook. Daring him to eat his words.

Joel feels stricken with panic. His temper cools and is replaced with regret. All he had done was piss her off and work himself up. He was finally saying the words out loud that they both had been avoiding for too long, but he was too afraid to commit and make things final.

He reaches his arm out like a reflex and grabs her arm as she passes. Their eyes lock in a standoff. Tess has a fire in her eyes but behind that he can see the hurt lurking. He relaxes his grip now that he has her attention and looks away, ashamed. His hand drags down her arm slowly. Tender and apologetic.

“Will I see you Friday night?”

Coward. He hates himself as soon as those words leave his mouth. Why couldn’t he just let her walk away?

“Yeah. Sure.” She conceals the slightest smirk from his sight as she pulls her arm free and keeps walking toward the door.

Later that night after Joel returns home he has nothing left to distract him. He had worked as late as he could. He had a liquid dinner of whiskey.

After he showered he got into some sweatpants and a simple cotton tshirt and scrolled mindlessly through the channels. He settled on a mediocre action movie that was halfway over and just let it fill the background noise.

His mind is on overdrive rehashing the conversation with Tess over and over. Regretting not just letting her go. It was easier to imagine doing that when it wasn’t the heat of the moment. He was so close but he knew she wouldn’t make it easy for him. He knew better than to let himself get wound up too and put her on the defensive. He never wanted to hurt Tess even if he was fed up with her.

He had no intention of continuing his charades with her and didn’t want to lead her on, but he couldn’t let it end like that. They had too much history. She had been too important to Joel since they met in Boston. He didn’t want to lose what they had, but it was becoming more and more clear that it had been gone for a long time. He still had to try.

He hated feeling so ambivalent.

“Damn it, Tess.” He says out loud to himself as he leans forward over his knees with his hands clasped between them. He slams his whiskey glass down on the table in front of him.

His body is too tense and agitated. He stands up and paces past the front window. His eyes catch the light of your home and he feels a different kind of heat take over. His frustration was looking for any way to escape. He could already feel himself getting hard thinking about fucking you again. A combination of desire for you and aggravation that his situationship with Tess was going to stifle this new flame.

He braces against the wall and palms himself over his pants with deep, labored strokes. He reaches his hand inside and continues. His cock is begging for your touch.

Your touch.

It all seemed so clear to him at this moment. You were exactly what he needed. What he wanted. In the short time he had come to know you one thing was certain. Being around you made him feel good.

He withdraws his hand with a pained restraint and instead picks up his phone.

Joel needs to see you. He sends you a text.

[Reader POV]

Joel: Come over?

No preamble. No context. You read the message and then read it again.

You: Sure

There is nothing you’d like more. You want to tell him that, but you keep it short and sweet.

It was already getting late but you didn’t want to question it too much. It’s not like you were doing anything important anyways. You had already made a deal with yourself to let things cool off a little so that you didn’t come off desperate with how badly he made you want him.

This unexpected late night invitation was very much welcomed. Whatever reason Joel had to invite you over, you were ready to find out.

You throw on a pair of jeans, grab your jacket and head over on foot. The cool air is soothing. It helps calm you down as you can feel your heart racing the closer you get. His home was becoming more and more familiar to you. It was hard not to pass it everyday and want to be back inside and wonder what he was up to. Joel was becoming more and more familiar. You had never felt so enamored with a guy before. Much less someone like Joel and especially not someone old enough to be your dad. You knew so little about him, too. Something you plan to remedy when you are not being dickmatized.

He answers the door as you approach it and you step in, scuffing your boots to kick off the snow. You notice how dimly lit the place is with only the light from his TV and the wood stove burning low. A single light in the kitchen above the sink where you first got to experience his touch.

You turn to face him as he closes the door. He looks on edge.

He takes a step towards you and grabs your chin, directing you to look up at him. His eyes are dark and his energy is agitated. Hungry. Lustful. Something is off but you can’t quite place it. You infer that his silence means he didn’t invite you over to chat so you don’t pry. Shoot first and ask questions later was becoming the status quo.

He brushes his thumb across your lip and parts your mouth open slightly. It makes you melt inside as you confirm this invitation was for all the reasons you had hoped. You give him a sultry smirk and tease the tip of his thumb with your tongue.

No words are spoken as he closes the gap and shoves his tongue in your mouth. He presses into you and turns you to swap positions so he can pin you against the door. You can feel the heat of his cock against you as he devours you with his mouth and grinds into you. You can smell the lingering whiskey on his breath while you make out.

His hands pull your jacket off your shoulders and it falls to the ground. You kick your boots off and let them join the mess of clothing starting to gather at your feet. He pulls your shirt over your head and struggles to undo your bra while his body rocks into you; crowding you in. He is careful not to lose contact with you for long. His mouth roams to your neck and collarbone as you reach your hands down to unbutton your jeans. The cruel barrier between you does little to conceal his hardening cock, poking into you as you struggle to unzip and free yourself from your jeans.

Your bare back against the door is cold and sends goosebumps through your skin. His hand brushes over your hardening nipple and it sends him in a frenzy that stops you in your tracks as he becomes preoccupied with your hardening buds.

He hooks his hands under your thighs to hoist you up higher for easier access. You straddle him to help hold yourself up. He maneuvers you so effortlessly. His biceps bulge tightly through the arms of his tshirt as he uses his strength to pin you firmly between him and the door while he ravages your tits.

Your hands grip into his shoulders and he leans in to take your nipple in his mouth. His tongue swirls and teases as you become harder and more sensitive.

He is rough and needy. A moan escapes your lips as he sucks hard and flicks you with his tongue before switching over to the other side and does it all over again. He is getting increasingly forceful.

It’s almost too rough and borders hurting but his unhinged desire to take what he wants in the moment makes you feel euphoric. You want to be at his mercy.

A bite catches you off guard and you and you gasp as he nips at you again with more restraint. He pulls back to control himself, panting and realizing he might be getting too intense.

He lowers you gently back to your feet and holds your hips firmly. He leans into your ear and his words come out deep and commanding.

“Bedroom.”

He leads you hastily through the living room to a room you had not been in before. It smells masculine and clean with a woodsy veil lingering from the wood stove. He has dark blue bedding and decor against beautiful rustic, knotty pine walls. It feels comfortable and distinctly Joel. A rush of excitement surges through you. Being in his bedroom. Standing at the foot of his bed.

He comes up behind you and wraps his arms around you and mouths your jawline and collar. It doesn’t take long before he is getting carried away again leaving playful bites on your tender skin. You relish it and welcome being branded by him. You’ve never been with someone so rough and dominant and you find yourself craving this side of Joel. Your body aches for his touch.

One of his hands is forcefully grabbing your breast and the other he slides down your belly and dips inside your panties. You are embarrassingly aroused already and he feels how wet you are as he grazes over your underwear. He curls two of his fingers under the damp fabric and lets out a low growl as he presses them over your swollen clit and gets them wet at your entrance. His fingers are so thick. He gently works his two fingers in and out of you over and over again while his thumb teases your clit. While he is stretching you out he bites at the crook of your neck and earlobe. His cock poking into you and begging for friction as he grinds it into you.

You can feel him everywhere on your body. All your senses are flooded by his presence. His scent. His heat. His touch.

He slides his hand up and hooks his fingers on your waistband and tugs them down. You help shimmy out of them and bend over to let them drop to the floor. With one more layer removed you press back into him as you rise back up and feel his hard cock against your ass. You seize the opportunity to tease him back by rubbing up against him. You can feel his cock swelling against you and you let out a needy moan to further tempt him while you slowly rise back up. You want him inside you so badly and you can feel how badly he wants it too.

“Easy,” he says sternly as his hands find a grip on your hips while you push back into him again. You hear a raspy moan catch in his throat.

“Don’t.” He threatens while he grips you harder and keeps you still. That dangerous side shows itself and it makes you equally turned on as you are intimidated. You listen.

He removes his other hand from your breast and slides it up around the front of your neck and gently around your throat. He tilts your head back and cups your jawline as he presses a needy kiss into you and turns you around to face him.

Joel pushes you down gently onto your back. His bed is messy and unkempt and smells like him. He stands at the foot of the bed and pulls his shirt off. His shoulder frame is so wide and his tapered waist teases you with his happy trail spilling out from his pants that are straining to hold him in. He leaves them and seems to ignore his own arousal for a moment to turn his entire focus on you. He drinks in your naked body laid bare before him and bites his lip back with a crooked smile. He has already made a mess of you and he can see how needy you are for him. Keeping his cock hidden seems cruel but you aren’t even sure if you could handle much more of his body at this moment.

He crawls onto the bed on all fours and situates himself in between your legs. The mattress sinks slightly under his weight as he settles between your legs with his arms holding him up on each side of you. His scruff scrapes the soft skin of your inner thigh as he lowers his head down and it sends a shiver through you. He presses his mouth to the crease at the top of your leg and places a gentle kiss as he moves in closer to your center.

His movements are slow and deliberate and he is teasing you with anticipation. His eyes lock onto yours. They are blown out and mad with desire. Dangerously hungry.

“Need to taste you.” He groans and snakes his hands under and around your legs and drags you closer to him, never breaking eye contact. His hands splay over your lower belly and he dives in. Your head tilts back as you stare up at the ceiling and breathe sharply. Your body is floating in pure ecstasy.

His focus is now entirely on eating you out. He flattens his tongue and licks you up to your clit again and again. You are getting wetter and wetter. He goes at a painfully slow pace and savors your taste. The sensation is intoxicating. He works his tongue with such precision.

Moans escape your lips and your body writhes under his expert tongue. Your back arches up as he dips further into you. His nose teases your clit while he stretches his tongue inside you. His damp beard scrapes against you as he moves his head, tantalizing your skin.

Your hands scramble to grab his tousled hair between your legs and you latch onto him and look down to steal a glance while he works. He is so handsome and skilled it doesn’t feel real. You can’t shake the feeling that you are waiting for the other shoe to drop, but at this moment you don’t even care.

His broadness let him take up so much space and spread you so wide open for him. His shoulders crest as he maneuvers himself deeper and you can see his beading sweat. He is so focused on making you feel good. Making you feel desired while he is genuinely enjoying every moment of it.

You lay your head back again and your vision starts to fade out as the sensation becomes overpowering. His tongue is relentless, exploring your folds and discovering all the right spots that drive you wild. Your hands tangle in his silver streaked hair and you are certain it has to be hurting him with how hard you are pulling. He does not seem to be fazed in the slightest and only responds with more vigor the harder you pull.

“Joel. I’m gonna..”

He interrupts you by sharply pushing you down against the mattress so you can’t squirm anymore.

“Not yet.” He commands, his eyes staying focused on your cunt while he speaks. “I’m not done with you.”

He doubles down on his movements to further push your limits. His whole face is buried in you. Pleasuring your most tender parts with a passionate hunger. Savoring your sweetness.

You writhe under him. His words invigorate you as you grasp onto anything that might help you hold on. His hair. The bed sheets. The comforter balled up around you. He doesn’t seem to mind that your legs are nearly strangling him. You doubt he can even feel it. He is so much bigger and stronger than you.

He sends you over the edge when he takes your swollen clit between his lips and sucks hard while he swirls it with his tongue.

You moan as your orgasm washes over you and he goes into a frenzy lapping at you, moaning as he takes all of you in. You have never come so hard before and he is drinking every bit of you. Reaping the benefits of his handiwork.

You are both panting to catch your breath and enjoy a calm moment as you come down from your high. You look down at him still placed between your legs. He groans as he stiffly adjusts his arms to prop himself up. One of the few moments that reminds you he is damn near 50 years old, and you are surprised to find it so endearing.

“Holy Fuck, Joel.” you say almost giddy and rest your arm across your forehead and breathe deep. No one has ever pleasured you like Joel Miller and you are pretty sure he knows it.

His face is shiny and wet from your release and his beard is covered in your slick. He looks feral and depraved as he drags the back of his hand across his face to wipe off your mess but it only smears it more. He licks his bottom lip, and seems pleased to wear your mess like a badge of honor. He was being such a nasty man, but you liked him nasty.

He backs up off the bed and reluctantly stands up. His cock is begging to be touched and let free. He catches the needy way you look at.

“Not yet, baby.” He slides his hand under his waistband and you can see him stroke his length and groan slightly as he slides his pants down. He jerks on it a few more times and you can see it leaking at the tip. It's fat and ready to burst. You can feel your body pulsing, begging to have him inside you.

“I want more of that pussy first.”

He slips out of his pants completely and then returns to his place on the bed, between your legs. He forces them open with his head. It’s playful but also devious. You didn’t realize how tightly you were holding your legs together until he charged in.

“Joel!” You whine.

He ignores you and places a rogue kiss on your abdomen and then resumes fucking you with his tongue. He uses his thumbs to spread your folds open so he can get in deep. You whimper as the pressure on you and inside you builds. You are wet again in no time and he relishes every molecule that coats his tongue.

He leans into you and pushes your legs back into your chest and laps at you with this new leverage. You can hear him moaning in delight.

“Joel…” You say his name again, louder, trying to get his attention. You are overstimulated and he doesn’t stop. Not that you actually want him to stop, but you do want him to know you are coming undone.

The second wave of pleasure starts to build. You are swollen and begging for his touch. Begging for him to fill you. As good as his tongue feels, you need to feel more of him. Making you beg for his cock turns him on too. He relishes your needy pleas and edges you even more.

He gets you good and wet and reluctantly pulls away from you and sits up. One hand presses your leg open while the other hand zeroes in on your opening. He dips a finger in and immediately adds another as he fucks you with his thick fingers, twisting them inside you. He wastes no time. Much rougher than earlier. He does it just long enough to get them dripping and feel you clench around him. You let out a whimper as he scissors his fingers and then cruelly pulls out of you, leaving you empty.

He wasn’t being so nice anymore. His movements were more urgent and practical. He had neglected his swollen cock for long enough.

His wet hand glides over his shaft while he stares at you.

“You’re being so good.” he praises. His veiny cock glistening in your slick.

“Gonna fuck you now, Sweetheart.”

He kneels on the bed and leans forward to pull you up. Your legs dangle loosely as he pulls you to your knees and spreads your legs to straddle him in his lap. His weighty cock is between your bodies. He notches it at your entrance and grabs it firmly at the base and pumps it before he guides the head into you.

Even though you are soaked and he just fingered you it is still a stretch your body isn’t quite ready for. His slicked up, swollen head splits you open and you feel a searing burn as your walls strain to fit him.

He lets out a grunt as he pushes it in further and locks his hands on your hips. You gasp as he pulls you all the way down to his base and holds you there for a moment. You wrap your arms around his neck and press your head to his chest while your mouth gapes open and you moan. You were not expecting him to fill you with his full length so quickly. He was a lot to take.

He leans back away from you just far enough to catch your eyes and check in on you. You feel his cock twitch inside you while he is admiring how fucked out you look.

Your bodies come together again and he grabs you hard. He thrusts up into you and pulls you down on his cock hard as he fucks you. His arms tangle around you as his pace quickens. Your nails claw into his back as you try to desperately grab onto something.

He snarls and nips at your collar as he fucks you relentlessly. He starts to come undone. His undulating thrusts turn chaotic. You can feel his cock swelling inside you, ready to unload.

You want him to fill you to the brim with his come but you don’t have the capacity to form coherent words. You try anyway holding yourself even tighter against him and moaning. Pleading with your touch. You hadn’t found the appropriate moment to tell him oh, by the way I have an IUD and doing it while being fucked senseless was incredibly difficult.

Your muscles are going weaker by the second but he picks up on your attempts. Joel was incredibly tuned into you. As if he needed another reason to be so attractive.

“Where, baby?” He slows his pace but just slightly. He urges you to reply by placing one of his hands on the side of your face and holding you up to look at him. You can tell from his tone that he is on the brink.

“In… inside.” You manage to get it out. You catch the way the corner of his mouth pulls up slightly while his eyes narrow over his nose. It was exactly what he was hoping to hear. He thumbs over your jawline and then brings his hand back down to your hips.

Joel grunts loud as he thrusts into you while he pulls you down on him. Rough and violent in his movements. His cock kisses your deepest parts and you scream out his name and claw into him. His moan sends you over the edge and your muscles convulse as your release escapes you.

He can feel your walls choking his cock while you come. It sets his own climax in motion and he loses control, bucking into you frantically while he snarls. You can feel his hot ropes of come fill you as his cock pulses. He thrusts up into you with a labored exhale as he empties himself inside you.

Having him fill you with his spend feels so cathartic. For both of you, you imagine, judging by his calmer demeanor. You share a peaceful moment together entangled and panting. Hot and sticky sweat beading between your bodies. The smell of sex and burning wood.

He presses his forehead into yours and leads you down gently back onto the mattress. His come leaks out of you as he pulls out with a groan. He was already taking up any available space before he poured into you. You mourn its loss as it drips out of your cunt.

He presses a kiss to your forehead and drops to his side, next to you. His arm drapes over your midsection and he turns you on your side. He pulls you close so your back is flush against the front of his body. His wet and softening cock nestles at the curve of your ass.

You can feel his heartbeat with heavy thuds starting to slow. He traces his hand along your side and gently rubs your skin. It makes you shiver. Your sides are sore from being held so tightly but his touch now is soft and gentle. Soothing.

Joel was intense in bed, but it never made you feel like you were in any sort of danger. He was certainly capable of harming you but you trusted him. He pushed your limits in all the right ways. On the outside he was rough and dominant, but you were starting to see that deep inside he knew how to be gentle too. He had another side of him that he was content to share with you in these moments.

He made you feel safe. Like he would protect you from anything.

“Joel?” You call for his attention, almost sheepish.

“Mmm?” He mumbles, raspy. From the sounds of it he was nearly passed out.

You roll onto your other side so you are facing him now. His hand snakes over your ass and he rubs you.

“You fuck good for an old man.”

He bites inside his cheek to hold back a smile and shakes his head.

“Watch it.” He threatens, but in a joking tone. He pulls your head into his chest and scoffs. You liked teasing him about his age.

You smile to yourself and bury your face in his chest as he holds you tighter.

You wake up to the sound of heavy boots clunking on the wood floor. You slowly blink your eyes open and then jolt up when you realize you are not at home. You look to your right and the spot on the bed is empty with blankets haphazardly tossed aside. You are in an unfamiliar bed, naked and your body is sore.

Your brain slowly wakes up as you remember Joel inviting you over late last night. You didn’t mean to fall asleep in his bed. He had fucked you silly and it is not at all surprising that you slept like a baby. He wore out your body and the last thing you remember was being held by him and listening to his rhythmic breath as you dozed off together.

Your eyes searched the room for your clothes but half of them were still out by the front door.

You see his olive green and orange plaid flannel draped over his dresser. You snatch it and put it on. It floats on you but feels so soft and comforting. The arms are so much longer and it hangs over you frumpy. It smells worn but you like being in his stink. You button just a few to hold it on you. It barely covers your ass but it does a good enough job.

You push the bedroom door open and wince as you see the sun is just peaking through the treeline. A stark contrast to the room you woke up in. The reflection on the ice covered lake is bright and blinding. After your eyes adjust you can really take in what a beautiful morning it is.

“Morning.” Joel greets you. He is standing over in the kitchen holding a coffee carafe and pouring it into his thermos. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

He looked so handsome. Fresh with his hair wet and slicked back. He cleaned up well and looked like an entirely different man from the night before. More put together anyways. More peaceful too. It reminded you of the first morning you met him.

He was dressed for work and had on a few layers from head to toe. It made you feel foolish to still be so exposed. He did not seem to mind one bit.

He looks you up and down and he bites his lip while he tilts his head slightly and stares.

“Mmm. Like you in my shirt.” He almost growls it at you.

You smile shyly and stand across from him at the island.

“I like it too. I might have to keep it.” You tease.

You notice a coffee mug already prepared next to him. His big hand claws it on the top and he slides it over towards you.

“Figured you’d want this.”

“I sure do.” You pick up the mug with both hands and breathe in the sweet aroma. He had apparently paid attention enough to know that you like your coffee with cream and sugar. Another bonus point for attentiveness.

“I got an early job today and I have to go. Stay as long as you need.” His offer was generous.

He twists the lid onto his thermos and grabs a bag with some tools and blueprints. He slings it over his shoulder and walks around the other side to stand next to you.

He reaches his free hand out and gently pushes your messy hair behind your ear. He slowly drags his hand to your jaw and tenderly caresses you with his thumb.

“See you later, sweetheart.” You melt inside.

And then he was gone.

You collect your things and quickly dress yourself properly. Your daily work alarm goes off on your phone while you are lacing up your boots. Just enough time to go home and shower and get ready for work.

As you are about to head out a devious thought compels you to snatch the flannel. He won’t even miss it. He has plenty.

As you close the door behind you you take a deep breath. The sun is warm on your face and the air is crisp and refreshing. Your senses are invigorated and your energy is bright and vibrant. The realization hits you as you start across the street.

You are falling hard for Joel Miller.

To be continued...

Thank you to my dear friends who beta'd for me @magpiepills and @legendary-pink-dot 🧡 ILY

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signanothername · 2 days

Note

Saw your animatic of NIGHTMARE HAS FALLEN, peak comedy right there

also, your art of Killer squshing Nightmare's cheeks was awesome, but also prompted my brain to question "How would Killer interact with Passive?"

On one hand, small child, like Chara, but wow this is really cute and innocent, why the fuck is it considered evil? On the other hand, if he knew it was Nightmare...actually, idk, Killer is pretty smart, so I'm not entirely sure how it would play out

Hahaha thank you!!

Ooooh i love this question

Ok so I feel like it depends on what circumstances they meet, but let’s go with “Killer never saw Passive before and it’s the very first time they meet”

I don’t think the fact Passive being a child would deter Killer at all, cause Passive differs greatly in temperament and character from Chara, I feel like Passive might actually reminds him of Frisk actually (and that on its own opens a whole pack of problems)

But the thing is, just as you said, Killer’s smart, I believe he’ll figure out it’s Nightmare pretty quickly, considering how observant Killer is and how Nightmare’s appearance gives it away

I mean, a child that is basically a copy paste of Dream only has the opposite colors, has a golden crown of his own with a crescent on it?? And is glued to his lil book? Yeah that’s definitely Nightmare, hell his lil belt has “NM” on it, like Killer would have to be an absolute idiot to not figure it out, with one look Killer would immediately know it’s Nightmare, it wouldn’t take any time at all

Now to talk about how they’d interact

Let’s imagine they’re in Dreamtale before it got destroyed

Important thing to think about first and foremost, is whether Dream would be present with Nightmare when they meet or not

For the sake of this ask we’re going to assume Dream has gone to visit the village, so it’s only Nightmare sitting with the tree by himself

I feel like it’s important to keep in mind that this isn’t a one way interaction, it’s not just Killer’s reaction to Nightmare, it’s also Nightmare’s reaction to Killer

Nightmare already has a bad experience with strangers, and Killer isn’t the most friendly looking, so i feel like their interaction is gonna go a bit poorly actually, cause Nightmare would assume this stranger is either A-here to hurt him, or B- here for the golden apples he’s guarding, both not good things

Killer on the other hand would honestly just be curious about Nightmare at first, cause it’s not every day you get to see the king of negativity and darkness, one of the most powerful beings, as a mere helpless and defenseless child, it’d definitely make Killer wonder how the hell was this tiny little creature entrusted to guard something that keeps emotional balance in the Multiverse (not that it truly matters to him, not when he can’t feel anything himself right?)

So Nightmare would be extremely wary and even a bit frightened of Killer while Killer would just stare through Nightmare for a few minutes, but here comes the interesting question…

At what timeline does their meeting occur?? Is it in which Killer is still under Nightmare’s command, or is it after Killer was saved by Color, cause depending on it i feel like Killer’s reaction can differ

If Killer was still under Nightmare, is he in a trigger happy mood or is he feeling chill enough to just not feel like killing anyone, would Killer take this as an opportunity to hurt Nightmare back, or would he not attack him at all? I feel like the latter’s more plausible, cause Killer is usually chill actually until triggered, pushed, or commanded to, plus if it’s Nightmare then he’s not very interested to attack him…. physically at least (tormenting the child mentally seems a bit fun, but he’d file that in his brain for later)

I can see Killer actually taking interest in the apples, I mean they’re literally the twins’ souls… in the future at least, and Nightmare would definitely be wary but REALLY surprised to know Killer isn’t just interested in the golden apples, but his own black apples too, cause no one ever liked his black apples, everyone thought they were evil so why would this stranger not think the same?

I feel like Nightmare while still extremely wary wouldn’t be able to stop the child wonder in his heart and warm feeling blossoming in his little chest at the idea someone actually being ok with the black apples, i can see him take one of his black apples to killer to offer him, i mean no one ever wants to be near his black apples so maybe he finally met a monster who would accept him and his apples?

And Killer is interested yes, but not for the reasons little Nightmare’s thinking about

So you’d better believe Killer would accept the offer, he actually gets to take a closer look at what’s supposed to be Nightmare’s soul in the future? Oh how fun tormenting future Nightmare and Dream would be when he understands how they work

I feel like the apple’s aura wouldn’t have much effect on him except for maybe his soul wavering a bit as it responds to the negativity it’s always been subjected to, a familiar conditioning if you will, and Nightmare would get curious enough to ask about why Killer seems unaffected, only for Killer to tell Nightmare that he can’t really feel anything, and Nightmare just not comprehending that fact, he’d insist that everyone has feelings, and that the balance of those positive and negative emotions is what the tree is for, Killer can’t just not feel anything, that everyone is affected by the apples’ aura, only for Killer to tell Nightmare that he’s a “special case” and would take a lot more than just aura to make him feel anything (cough like tentacles of pure agonizing negativity and the power of 999 black apples taking ahold of the very culmination of his being cough, i can imagine Killer smiling a creepy knowing smile as he looks at Nightmare, little Night doesn’t know what that look means, but he doesn’t like it, he feels like he’s missing so much context)

I can see Killer simply asking question after question about the apples to understand how they work, especially the black apples, and little Nightmare answering only some of them, because a child or not, Nightmare’s smart, he’s not to give info that could give this stranger an opportunity to do as he pleases to the apples, Killer absolutely notices Nightmare’s wariness and his very careful attitude, and Killer thinks Nightmare’s smart for it

Then again that’s the child that’s going to grow to become a tyrant so it’s to be expected that he’d be clever (it’s interesting to see how Nightmare used to be at least)

Killer would definitely try to find a way out after he’s gotten the info he needs (or as much as little Nightmare was willing to provide) and he holds no illusion that threatening little Nightmare would get him to talk, cause if he knows Nightmare well enough it’ll only do the opposite and little Nightmare will not provide anything more, and so it’s time to go cause he holds no deluded attachment to this place or little Nightmare

And I can see Nightmare actually asking Killer what his name is, after all they’ve been talking but they haven’t introduced themselves, that Nightmare has never seen him around here before, and I can see this to be the moment Killer takes the opportunity to be a bit of a bitch and say some bullshit about he’s actually from a different time and how his name indicates his job only to introduce himself as “Killer” and to immediately go “and you’re Nightmare, the king of negativity, tyrant lord of darkness and nightmares” (Killer’s ironically a lot like Corrupted Nightmare in finding joy in the mental anguish of people more so than physical anguish)

Nightmare doesn’t know what “Killer” is talking about, but it sends a shiver down his spine and he’s going to lie if he said he wasn’t terrified not only of the thought of a murderer from a different time knowing who he is, but of the implication of Killer’s comment about his possible future :)

#anothers art #anothers ask #dreamtale #something new #nightmare #killer #nightmare sans #killer sans #passive nightmare #passive nightmare sans

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sashasmenu · 3 days

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I know this isn’t usually what I post, but there's something I really want to share.

My account is currently a pro-ed recovery account, but it hasn't always been this way. I used to run a th1n$p0 account with over 700 followers, posting 'dieting tricks' that were actually bogus, because I was also stuck in a binge-purge cycle. I posted pictures of emaciated women in beautiful clothing, and watched as dozens of people commented and messaged me, asking for more. I thought I wasn’t hurting anyone, but deep down I knew I was. I was hurting everyone who saw the pictures I posted, and I was hurting myself by posting them.

Every day I got skinnier and sadder, yet I posted about how happy and perfect my life was. I spent hours on this app because I had pushed away everyone in my life; the only real connection I felt was in these comments and messages from my ana buddies. Despite feeling low every day, I would open this app and feel a little better.

One night a few months ago, I was lying in bed crying myself to sleep because I was so hungry it hurt. I opened the app to try to take my mind off it and went through my messages. The first one I opened said, "I love your spø, I used what you posted last night to not eat all day." For some reason, this message shook me to my core. It was similar to messages I received multiple times a day, but the thought of another girl lying in bed and crying herself to sleep because she was so hungry made me feel sick. Knowing I helped this girl starve herself, making her feel as miserable as I did, was awful beyond words.

The next day, I deleted my account. Over the next few weeks, I felt like absolute shit. I deleted Tumblr off my phone and erased every spø pic from my devices. I kept wondering how many people had seen what I posted and used it to skip meals. I started to fear I had inadvertently led someone into a death trap of restriction. In an attempt to make penance, I initially starved myself, thinking I deserved to feel that way too.

Eventually, I realized that hurting myself wasn't helping anyone. Even though I still struggle with my relationship with food, I decided to post pro-recovery content. If even one person sees my content and feels a little better, then it will all be worth it.

I want to emphasize that pro-ana accounts are not run by bad people out to hurt others. These accounts are run by struggling individuals, and it's important not to judge yourself based on what they say.

Sorry for the rant ❤️, just wanted to get that off of my chest.

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hornychristianprincess · 9 hours

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wasted (leehan x fem reader) FINAL

paring: leehan x fem reader, ft. taesan genre: smut, fluff, angst, fuckboy!leehan word count: 15k summary: finally confessing your feelings to leehan leads to a reaction you could have never prepared for. warnings: unwanted sexual advances (NOT from leehan), explicit [consensual] sex scenes, oral (female receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it b4 you tap it ppl) read on ao3 if you please by clicking HERE.

“Jaehyun, you have a lot of friends, right?” asks Leehan when he and his roommate are relaxing in their shared living room, doing homework. “Do you know anyone who works in the tutoring office? Blonde streak of hair?”

It’s the only attributes he can remember about the guy he saw you entering your room with only a few days ago, noticing the blue tutoring office logo on the chest of his polo shirt and the distinctive stripe of color in the middle his head.

“Oh yeah, I think you’re talking about Taesan,” says Jaehyun, who luckily isn’t paying attention enough to his roommate to notice how he perks up at just the name. “Why?”

Even Leehan himself isn’t exactly sure why he cares so much.

It’s hypocritical at best and gross at worst to think that you have any less of a right to screw around than he does.

But whether it's his innate territoriality coming into play or the fact that he’s upset it wasn’t him at your side instead, he can’t help but see you differently after what he saw.

“I saw him with some girl I was fucking. Sexual partners are like cars – You don’t want one everyone gets to use, you know?”

Jaehyun, who had up until this point been lying on the floor and playing idly with his Nintendo switch, sits up to look at Leehan. “You’re not talking about Y/N, are you?”

The first thought that comes to a surprised Leehan’s mind is what he said to have tipped Jaehyun off. Failing to think of any divertive lie, he decides there’s no harm in Jaehyun knowing, only wondering, “How’d you find out?”

“I saw her going into your room the night of my Halloween party,” he explains reasonably, before his voice and facial expression turn suddenly serious. “You shouldn’t talk about her like that. She’s going through a lot right now. She just failed all of her midterms and she might get kicked out of school.”

“Wait, really?” asks Leehan, who is hit with a sudden pang of deja vu as if he’s heard this before but doesn’t remember from where.

And then, it’s with a sudden and strong surge of embarrassment that he remembers the moment when he was feeling horny and decided to send you a dick pic, pressing the little blue arrow after only briefly glancing at the above messages.

“Oh shit. I think she told me that.”

Jaehyun laughs jeeringly, the resentful sound of which brings Leehan out of his own spiraling thoughts. “You’re an asshole, man,” he asserts, saying it in a way that’s so casual it’s as if it’s just a known fact.

Not an insult or a compliment, but simply a thing that’s true.

And somehow, the neutrality of it hurts worse.

“No offense, but I totally hope she forgets she ever met you.”

Hit by the irony of such cruel words being preceded by no offense, Leehan becomes sarcastic to avoid having to express the true hurt of being told that. “None taken. That seriously wasn’t offensive at all, Jaehyun.”

Maybe Jaehyun is right. After working so hard to emphasize the line between being fuckbuddies and being in a relationship, yet still finding himself acting the exact way he feared you would, isn’t asshole the only way to truly express how shitty he’s being about this?

It’s at that moment that Leehan considers that perhaps this relationship between the two of you has spiraled out of control.

Because something that should be inherently easy and casual has now caused him far too much regret and remorse for his liking.

Sitting in an empty classroom with Taesan, you share a cup of bubble tea, the drinking of which causes you to bump hands several times as you reach out to grab it at the same time.

Interacting with Taesan always brings up sweet and innocent feelings that are like that of childhood crushes, or chasing fireflies on your lawn after dark.

Fall break has long been over and yet you continue to meet with him even outside of your mandatory weekly check-ins, forgetting the anxiety that once plagued you over this arrangement.

The time you spend with Taesan is so fulfilling that you’ve managed to completely forget that Leehan hasn’t contacted you in almost a week.

Well, maybe not completely.

You still wonder from time to time what he’s thinking, if maybe he read the text message you sent prior to his dick pic and internalized the part where you emphasized how you wouldn’t have time for him anymore.

There is of course a tiny part of you that feels empty and abandoned at the idea of him ghosting you and never talking to you again.

But it’s in a stroke of optimism, feigned or otherwise, that you decide to pour your attention into someone who feels like a much better match for you, that someone being Taesan.

“I’m just about to finish with this assignment. After I’m done, do you wanna go to the caf?” you mumble out in inquiry to Taesan as you check over your quiz answers for the last time before submitting.

You hear him make a noncommittal noise in response, which you first interpret as disinterest, but only seconds later recognize to be absent-mindedness as you feel his eyes warming the side of your face.

You let out a chuckle, just about to say something teasing to him for being caught staring at you when a few warm fingers glide across your ear. Taken aback, you meet Taesan’s gaze as he tucks away a piece of your stray hair.

“Are you okay?” he asks softly, holding your face in his hand. “You have this…faraway look in your eyes.”

Your eyes dart between his face and his hand that’s slow to come off of your ear, surprised by the sudden bit of physical contact.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you answer calmly if maybe a bit shakily, trying to appear normal though your head screams with a million passing thoughts at once. Taesan nods in acceptance of this answer before turning back to his laptop as if nothing happened.

If you were at all a gambling person, you’d bet good money that the telltale, suave move of tucking your hair behind your ear was a way for him to see how you’d react to something less platanotic from him.

And if you were to allow this moment to pass by without saying anything, you know that he would follow your lead and pretend like this never happened. He’d use your silence as evidence that his advances are unwelcome.

Perhaps you’re feeling a little bold, but you don’t want him to go any longer thinking that his interest isn’t reciprocated.

“Wait,” you remark, reaching out to grab Taesan’s wrist. “Taesan, can I kiss you?”

The usually mysterious, confident boy loses his ability to speak when you ask him that, eyes going wide and only nodding to communicate his consent. Finding his sudden shyness charming, you smile as you lean in to press your lips against his.

Taesan’s mouth is just as inviting as you thought it would be all the times you spent staring at it when you were sure he wasn’t looking. He may have acted shy just now, but the way that Taesan kisses you is like fire. He presses his mouth hard against yours, and when his body does the same you soon find yourself pressed into the rolling chair you’re sitting in.

Your hand moves up to tangle in his hair, pulling him in to deepen the kiss. You were sure that Taesan, ever the responsible one, would be the person between the two of you to pull away before things got too heated.

But now, all he does is lean in to your provocations, sticking his tongue into your mouth while you whimper against his.

And as you try to allow your brain to white out so that you can truly relax into the gratification he is sure to give you, all you can think about is how his lips are not Leehan’s lips.

His hands are not Leehan’s hands.

His kiss doesn’t evoke even a fraction of the electricity that Leehan does just by looking at you.

You accept then that self-preservation must be a confounding myth to your psyche, because against all odds, you are still very much into Leehan.

And while you could easily fuck Taesan anyway and let the enjoyment of his sex prove as a temporary salve to the gaping wound that is your feelings for Leehan, you feel too much like he doesn’t deserve to fuck someone with such selfish intentions.

So, it’s with both regret and sobering understanding that you pull Taesan away from you, lines of spit breaking into drool as you separate.

The two of you become temporarily frozen in a moment of both confusion and shock. Taesan, looking at you with widened eyes and reddened lips, asks in a small yet urgent voice, “What? Is something wrong?”

You already feel like a piece of shit as you loosen your grip on Taesan’s hair, letting your hands fall to your lap and noticing that his still rest on your waist. “Taesan…” you begin, and already at just the sound of his name, you can see his expression wilting, like he knows by the unsure tone of your voice exactly what you’re going to say. And how couldn’t he, when you suck so badly at giving bad news?

“I think you’re an amazing person. And believe me when I say I really, really wanted this between us,” you emphasize, wishing you could get swallowed up by a hole as he continues to stare at you in dumbfounded awe.

You know that these aren't words anyone wants to hear but you feel compelled to say them, feeling like Taesan deserves honesty from you.

“To be completely candid with you, the reason why I’m on academic probation is because of a guy. A recent guy who treated me like shit, but because I’m an idiot, I still want him.”

You wait on edge for the moment when Taesan’s disposition will return to that of the understanding, kind person you’ve come to know, the moment when you’ll both laugh at the awkwardness of this situation and allow yourselves to forget it ever happened.

Instead, though, all you see in Taesan’s eyes is a fiery passion that makes your head hurt as you realize he won’t let this rejection go down easily.

“You know that doesn’t matter to me right? We don’t have to…be all romantic, and shit. I’m fine with something casual. Happier with that, even.”

It’s with a pang of insecurity that you fight back a self-pitying laugh at those words, wondering what it is about you that makes men only want casual, no-strings-attached relationships with you.

“I’m sorry for making things awkward. And if you don’t want to tutor me anymore after this, I’d completely understand,” you concede in the nicest possible tone you can muster, still incredibly conscious of Taesan’s hands that have still not left your waist. “But I can’t do this, Taesan. You’re amazing but I just…I can’t, okay?”

When Taesan continues to stare at you as if he isn’t comprehending a word that’s coming out of your mouth, you reach down to move his hands off of your waist yourself, and when you do, you’re shocked when you feel his fingers seizing around your wrists to hold them in place.

“You’re being ridiculous, Y/N. So what if you’re not over your ex? That shouldn’t stop you from getting your rocks off,” he says, voice rising considerably as he squeezes your wrists so harshly it begins to hurt.

It’s at this moment that you realize you’ll never be able to look at Taesan the same again.

No longer the sweet, kind and helpful boy you first met, he looks pathetic and at worst, scary as he continues to refuse your rejection.

“Taesan, I’m really gonna need you to let go of me,” you request, saying it without any niceties as you manage to convince yourself that maybe he’s just taking this extra hard for whatever reason and just needs to hear you being serious so that he can come to his senses. “Listen, how about we end early for today and talk about this another time–”

“I’m not letting you leave until you can look me in my eyes and give me one good reason why we shouldn’t do this,” he asserts, still holding your wrists, laughing a little in a way that makes it hard for you to tell if he knows that he’s making you uncomfortable or thinks that this is all just some game of hard-to-get. “You can act coy all you want but I know you want me, I could tell as soon as I met you.”

“I’m gonna tell you to let go of me one more time, Taesan, and then I start screaming,” you threaten, no longer feeling amused or pitiful but instead angry, adrenaline running through your veins as you consider the possibility of having to physically attack him.

You’re not sure how things escalated so quickly but now you’re quickly regretting ever befriending Han Taesan in the first place, ever thinking that he could be a permanent fixture in your life.

Catching you by surprise, Taesan stands up suddenly from his chair and drags you up with him. It’s in a flurry of movements that he somehow manages to pin you against a wall, smirking down at you from above.

You let out a squeal but he covers your mouth, strong enough to use only one of his hands to keep your arms pinned above your head. He laughs as you struggle against him, perhaps not realizing – or worse, realizing it and getting off on how deeply he’s managed to scare you.

“What?” he asks through upturned lips, pressing his body into yours. “Don’t girls like it when guys don’t take no for an answer?”

It’s in the strangest and most serendipitous stroke of luck that you hear the sound of the classroom door swinging open.

And when you turn your head to meet the gaze of your savior, it’s Leehan who you see standing there, taking in the scene in front of him.

It feels stupid and random that of course it’s Leehan who just happened to be the person to walk in here, but you don’t dwell too much on the details, focused on the relief that floods through you knowing there’s someone here to intervene on your behalf.

Leehan hesitates momentarily as he wonders if he’s just had the misfortune to accidentally walk in on the kinky foreplay between you and this new guy you’ve been seeing. Attending a lecture in this same building, he happened to walk by the classroom and hear a distressed voice that sounded vaguely familiar.

Through the fogged glass material of the door, he could just barely make out your silhouette, instinctually barging in to see what was going on.

If Leehan didn’t know you so well, he might’ve immediately bolted at the sight of you engaging in intimacy with someone else. It would be too much and he knows it would force him to confront his conflicting feelings towards you.

But the moment he meets your gaze and sees the steely, ice cold fear that’s in your eyes, his next moves are made clear. Without questioning anything, he steps forward and punches an already staggering Taesan in the face.

The punch causes Taesan to fall backward, blood that you aren’t sure is coming from his lip or his nose splattering onto the floor. You and Leehan remain frozen, you in shock at both Taesan’s actions and Leehan’s sudden presence, and Leehan with the adrenaline of becoming unexpectedly violent.

It’s in that moment of stillness on both of your parts that Taesan has time to recover, and before you can react, he’s leaping forward to tackle Leehan onto a nearby desk.

You let out a squeal of shock as the two men struggle, causing desks and their chairs to fly around the room haphazardly in the process.

And to your horror, Taesan quickly gets the upper hand over Leehan, sitting on top of the shorter boy in a straddling position before letting his hands fly in a series of devastating punches.

You go to pull him off but he pushes you away, forcing you then to search frantically for your phone in the hopes of calling campus security before Leehan is pulverized any further.

“Hey, is something going o—” you hear an unfamiliar voice ask, and you look up to find that you’ve been discovered by a complete stranger, a boy who you assume is another student by his shaggy attire and backpack. He answers his own question by glancing into the room and catching sight of Taesan and Leehan who are both now bleeding as they remain wrestling on the floor.

You’re just about to enlist the stranger to help you in dragging Taesan off of Leehan when, suddenly, you don’t have to.

Realizing that the stranger’s presence could mean that even more people could arrive to inspect what’s causing all of this noise any second, you watch as the fear of getting in trouble overtakes Taesan’s expression until he’s getting up.

He gets up and sprints out of the classroom wildly, shoulder checking the stranger in the process as he flees out of the building.

“Should I run after him?” asks the student at the door who you’re sure is still processing what he’s just seen. But more than anything else, you’re worried about Leehan, who you just saw taking several punches to the face and is laying down on the ground making strangled, agonized noises.

“No. It’s better that you scared him away. I just need to get him to the infirmary,” you reply, trying to sound more calm and controlled than you feel but hearing how your adrenaline from the past few minute’s events causes your voice to come out shaky and broken. The stranger asks if you need any help but you wave him away, deciding it would be too much of a burden to have to explain what just happened to anyone else.

So it’s by yourself that you go to hover over Leehan’s body and try to push back the horror of seeing his face bloodied and bruised so that you can help him onto his feet.

And because most of the damage seems to be centralized on his face — maybe his back and head, too, after being tackled onto the ground — he mostly manages to stand up on his own. Though, once on his feet, he has to lean on you to avoid staggering.

“Don’t…let him…go, Y/N,” he mumbles, making you feel even more concerned and on edge as his garbled tone makes it sound like he’s one step away from passing out. “He was…hurting you, wasn’t he?”

“It’s fine, Leehan. Let’s just get you to the infirmary,” you reply dismissively, needing him to be pliant more than anything in this moment so that you can get him to your thankfully close by campus infirmary without issue.

Your transgression with Taesan with startling and for a brief moment, terrifying. But with him now gone, the majority of your distress lies with Leehan and making sure he’s okay.

And to your relief, as you take a few steps forward with Leehan’s arm leaned over your shoulder, he remains upright and mostly autonomous in his movements.

He continues to say nothing on your way out of the building outside from the occasional groan, and you’re sure that as the adrenaline wears off that the pain in his face must become more present. You luckily make it to the infirmary moments later, where the doctor on call takes one look at Leehan’s face and immediately rushes him into a care room.

Everything that happens after that is a bit of a blur for you. A campus security officer comes to take a statement from you. You tell him everything, giving him Taesan’s full name and picture in the hopes that it can lead to some type of action, although a part of you feels discouraged and numb at that notion.

You wait anxiously in the lobby of the infirmary, waiting for an update from the doctor and feeling like you’re gonna throw up when the older woman comes out from the hallway with a neutral, unreadable expression on her face.

“Hi ma'am. Your friend is doing just fine. All of the cuts on his face are superficial, so they’ll heal on their own. He’ll have some bruises and swelling, which will also go away with time. He does have a bit of a concussion, so we’ll send you both home with some Tylenol. If you’d like to come and see him, you can follow me.”

Though you figured that most of his injuries were minor, you still feel relieved to hear that nothing is significantly wrong; it’s irrational, but you know you would have been eaten alive with guilt had anything serious happened.

Getting up to follow the doctor, you walk into the care room to find Leehan sitting on the edge of an examination chair, a nurse still applying little white bandaids to a cut on his cheek. When he sees you come in he smiles, though only fleetingly as the gesture causes him to wince in pain.

You don’t know what to say to him, so you opt to sit down on a chair that’s directly next to his dangling legs. You watch as the nurse goes to prod at a separate wound on his lip with a q-tip dipped in brown liquid. You don’t realize how tense you are until you feel the warmth of a hand over yours, and when you look up, Leehan is staring at you in amusement.

“You’re shaking,” he observes, and though he can’t smirk without it causing him pain, he still gazes at you in a way that is teasing and smug. And the fact that he’s concerned about you when he’s the one who’s getting medical attention makes you let out a cynical, humorless laugh.

“Don’t worry about me. Look what he did to you.”

“I’m still good-looking, though, aren’t I?” he replies playfully, and because you’re so upset, you feel yourself almost inclined to scold him for making such jokes in light of the circumstances. But Leehan, never one to read the room or adhere to the tones and moods of others, is laughing as he commands, “You have to tell me or I’ll have an internal crisis.”

You stare at him with your eyebrows furrowed, wanting to be annoyed by him but not being able to help your smile as he continues to await your confirmation of his enduring looks with a pout.

Rolling your eyes, it’s with a bit of resistance in your voice that you reply, “Yes, you’re still handsome, Leehan.”

He pumps his fist up in the air triumphantly, and with that, the nurse leaves the room, telling you that she’ll return with the official paperwork needed so that he can be discharged.

Once she’s gone, it’s quiet between the two of you until Leehan breaks the silence with a question. “That guy…his name’s Taesan, right?”

You’re taken aback, both at the sudden change in his tone and disposition – his voice now serious and inquiring – and the fact that he even knows who Taesan is. “How do you know?”

“I saw you with him outside of your dorm. Asked Jaehyun who he is,” he responds plainly. And as you take in this information, you’re not sure what to say in reply. Even just knowing that he was outside of your dorm that day when Taesan came to your room and didn’t say anything makes you think he must’ve had some kind of reaction to seeing the two of you together.

And as you put the timing together, it makes sense why you hadn’t heard from him for a week until now.

But then again, it doesn’t make sense. Because the Leehan you know, the Leehan you’ve come to resent, surely wouldn’t — shouldn't — care to see you with another guy when he’s been so adamant about keeping things non-exclusive between the two of you.

“Are you together?” he asks when you remain silent, and in what feels like a complete switch in power dynamics, you find that Leehan is the one now clearly expressing some kind of worry or at the very least interest in what you get up to when you’re not with him.

And because you feel both vindicated to be on the other side of this sort of questioning, and not at all entitled to tell him the truth, you answer by asking, “If I said yes, what would you say?”

Leehan looks at you, all amusement absent from his expression even as he says somewhat sarcastically, “That I thought being with me meant you had better taste in men.”

His response causes you to scoff, the idea of him thinking that he’s somehow at a higher caliber than all the other similarly emotionally-unavailable men on your campus something you find absurd.

And yes, maybe it’s because you’re already feeling a little bitter towards him that you’re then replying scathingly, “If anything, wouldn’t my interest in you mean the opposite?”

“Funny,” he says sardonically in reply. The atmosphere between the two of you currently is tense. He resents you for being with someone else and you resent him for setting boundaries for your relationship that he never intended to follow.

And yet, despite the unresolved negative emotions that are clearly swimming between the two of you, it feels absurd and crazy to say that as you continue to make unbroken and silent eye contact, you feel like he’s about to kiss you.

That’s the sort of crazy chemistry you seem to have with one another, where even as you both have the rationality to recognize the toxicity of this dynamic you both still find yourselves magnetically pulled to one another in a way that, in most people’s eyes, would be viewed as mindless.

But it’s just as you swear he’s leaning in that the doctor comes into the room, handing Leehan a clipboard and telling him he can go once he’s finished filling out a few forms. You wait for him, not sure what will happen once you leave but feeling almost responsible to at least see him to his apartment.

And so, you exit the hospital together, and it’s as you’re walking out that you voice to him truthfully, “It feels weird just dropping you off like you didn’t just get your face rearranged trying to save me.”

He lets out a chuckle in response, swinging his body so that he’s standing in front of you before shrugging and saying, “Then don’t drop me off. We could go to your dorm, watch a movie.”

The request to do something as simple as watch a movie sounds so foreign coming out of his mouth that you can’t help but laugh out loud. “When do we ever watch a movie?” you ask, repeating the words in disbelief.

You’re mostly joking when you ask that, but it’s with a tiny pang of sadness that you acknowledge the tragedy of him wanting your company for something other than sex being something that’s so unbelievable.

“Today. Rocky V is probably ill-timed, but I love a good nature documentary,” he replies with a grin, and as always, you are unable to get a read on his expression to know if he is being serious or not.

But today has been a crazy day and you know that being in your room by yourself after everything that’s happened is only going to make you feel worse. So, deciding that there’s no harm in keeping him company for just a little while longer, you allow him to lead the way to the building that he’s been to so many times.

You know from learning your roommate’s schedule that she’ll be in a lab for the next 3 hours, a fact that makes you feel relieved as you enter your dorm with Leehan trailing behind you. He comes in and immediately collapses onto the couch, spreading his arms out on either side of the cushions in a way that brings renewed attention to his broad shoulders.

“So. Do you actually want to watch a movie?” you ask casually as you stand a few feet away from him, trying your hardest to keep any bitterness out of your tone as you watch him shrug his shoulders nonchalantly.

“You know, now that I’m here…” he says, already smirking as he watches you fight the urge to roll your eyes. “It feels like a much better idea for you to come sit on my lap.”

Even though you find yourself enticed by the invitation, in a small, distant part of your brain, it feels like you’ve been manipulated into letting him come to your room. That watching a movie had always been a lie to get you to have sex with him.

But something has changed inside of you, and from what, you can’t pinpoint. All you know is that the accumulations of lies and divertive tactics that you’ve endured from Leehan thus far has left you almost numb to his provocations.

Instead of feeling sad or shitty or upset, you just feel nothing.

And somehow, that change feels more concerning to you than the emotions from before did.

Still, you find yourself stalking silently to Leehan on the couch, his eyes never leaving yours as you make your way towards him. His legs spread naturally as you get between them, and it’s with a jaguar-like slowness that you crawl over his body until you’re straddling him.

Intensity rolls off of the both of your bodies like water, the silence and shared eye contact only contributing to the growing sexual desire that builds between the two of you.

In contrast to such lust, it’s in a gesture of affection that you lean in to lay a gentle, barely-there kiss against all of the wounds on his face. The cut on his cheek. His busted bottom lip. The knot forming on the top of his head. The bruise on the side of his jaw. You do it almost in apology but also because you want him to tease him, giving him only fleeting touches and kisses before you do anything substantial. He flinches at first at the contact but eventually relaxes into the softness of your lips against him.

And though you couldn’t articulate the reason why, you get the feeling that he flinches less out of pain, but more in surprise at the unfamiliar gesture of tenderness and how it impacts him.

You’ve only just reached his neck, sucking hickies into the pale skin there, when you can feel his cock hardening underneath you.

It’s after you’ve kissed every single piece of skin uncovered by his shirt that you decide to relieve a bit of his suffering by reaching a hand down into the waistband of his pants. All you do is close your fist around his shaft and stroke him languidly, but you suppose your teasing worked better than you thought as he whimpers at the simplest of movements. He bucks into your hand, not afraid of seeming desperate and shamelessly moaning at your touch.

Watching him writhe and shudder beneath you, sensitive in a way you’ve never seen before, it wouldn’t be a stretch to say that this is one of the few times that you’ve felt even a semblance of control in your interactions during sex. It’s always been you on the receiving end of his endless repertoire of tactics, designed always to render you incomprehensible and under the thumb of his persuasion.

Spurred on by the observation, you take advantage of his submission to ask a question that’s been on your mind since you left the hospital.

“Can I ask you something? Why did you ask Jaehyun who I was with?”

You can just barely make out the expression of surprise that appears faintly behind Leehan’s glassy eyes, and in a tactic that even you admit is slightly contemptible, you never stop the movements of your hand as you await his answer.

Desperate for even a moment’s worth of vulnerability from him, you hope that by literally dangling his climax in your hands that he’ll be more inclined to be truthful with you.

But for Leehan, giving you the honest answer — that he’s simply a jealous person who can’t stand seeing you with someone else even though it’s hypocritical — would only serve in making you think that his jealousy is a sign of caring, his caring a sign of affection, his affection a sign that he wants to be your boyfriend.

And though that assessment isn’t as easy to refute as it may have once been when he first met you, it seems idiotic to put any ideas in your head that could lead to him having to admit feelings he isn’t quite sure of yet.

So, in lieu of the truth, he replies with something that, honestly, should be a bigger concern for him than it presently is: “Because you should tell me if you’re being intimate with someone else. What if you’re not using protection and I catch something?”

Up until now, you had prepared yourself to react calmly to whatever Leehan’s answer would be, a task you knew would be difficult because the idea of him being jealous at all is in itself insane and backwards.

It was he who insisted that this dynamic be free of any constraints or limitations.

But the fact that he’s implying you would have sex with someone else and be so reckless as to not make any precautions for your health has your composure breaking, a scoff leaving you as you blurt out, “Have you been honest with me about the people you’re seeing?”

It’s a question you already know the answer to as you still haven’t forgotten the night of the Halloween party, how Jaehyun let it slip that Leehan had been on a date. You’d never confronted him about it because, deep down, you felt that you had no right to.

But now, he’s placing judgment on you in a way that makes you want to throw all caution to the wind and express your true emotions to him for what seems like the first time.

Hearing the knowing tone in your question has Leehan worried, tilting his head to stare at you as if he’s just now seeing you for the first time. “Are you trying to catch me in a lie, Y/N?” he asks, amusement in his tone though you can tell your questioning rattles him. “I’ve never told you anything that wasn’t true.”

But that’s just because you’ve never told me anything of substance, you think to yourself, reflecting back on all of the times he left your room in a hurry so that he could avoid having to show you anything real.

You continue jerking him off intently, and even though he’s obviously enjoying it, you can tell that you’ve thrown him off. During sex you’ve always maintained this sort of scathing, playful banter, but this time, he knows that your question is motivated by a genuine desire to hear the truth from him. It makes him beyond uncomfortable, especially with his dick still hard and aching in your moving hand. In a sudden change of dynamics, it’s him trying to read what you’re thinking.

Seeing this crack in Leehan’s usually guarded persona spurs you on into saying even more things that you’ve been suppressing. “I know that you’re seeing someone else,” you assert, honesty you never thought you’d be capable of expressing coming out boldly and without ambivalence. “Jaehyun told me, the night of the Halloween party.”

Your eyes are glued to Leehan’s face as you scan for the smallest fluctuation in his expression, searching desperately for any indication of what he’s thinking. And in yet another gesture that might as well be a verbal admission of guilt, Leehan stares up at the ceiling to avoid your gaze.

Leehan – confident, cool, teasing Leehan – who has always made you feel like you were scared of intimacy for not wanting to make eye contact with him during sex, is now the one shying away the intensity of your gaze.

The feeling of triumph that comes with finally feeling like you have him at your mercy after months of the opposite has you speeding up the movements of your hand, watching as he almost winces from the overstimulation you provide.

But more than anything else, you want answers.

You want to know why he thinks it’s okay to police who else you invite into your bedroom when he clearly does whatever he wants without any regard for you.

You want him to decisively and plainly decide if he’s either a sadistic asshole who believes that he should be able to treat you like shit while he goes out and fucks whoever he wants—Or if, like you, the passion of this relationship has overwhelmed him so much that he now finds himself feeling things for you that are beyond sexual, things that have caused him to abhor the notion of you being with someone other than him.

It feels like you need the answer to that question more than you need air.

And so, it’s in desperation that your voice comes out shaky as you demand, “Say something.”

“I can’t,” he manages through gritted teeth, the sound of his voice coming out raspy and submissive making your cunt pulse with arousal. “You’re about to make me come.”

Feeling like he’s being backed into a corner, Leehan wants to tell you to stop, but the euphoria he’s experiencing is too great. He’s never seen you be so assertive, so purposeful in doing things that you know will make him go crazy.

Rubbing your thumb over his tip. Spitting downward so that the wetness of your spit can reach his cock. Stroking him wildly and meeting his thrusts into your fist.

Pressure builds in his abdomen until he feels himself about to explode with what might be the most intense climax of his life.

But in a move that shocks the both of you, it’s just as Leehan is about to finish all over your hand that you abruptly pull off of him.

Stop the movements of your hand and watch brazenly as the realization of what you just did is processed on his face.

Maybe he thought that you were joking and that this was all just some aggressive manner of foreplay.

But now, he can see in your shocked expression, how you look so surprised at even your own insistence, that to deny him of his pleasure in this way was something that took a lot out of you.

It’s been a hallmark of your relationship so far for you to devote yourself to his satisfaction. You’ve always cared so much about being wanted by him, even after he’s shown his disregard for you time and time again.

And so to see you work up the courage to defy him in this way makes it clear to him that you’re not gonna drop this.

This isn’t something that he can smile or flirt his way out of in the hopes of having you wrapped around his finger for just one more day.

You’re gonna force this into being an issue. And fine; if you want to have this conversation, he’ll have it.

Even if it means that by the end of this you'll realize how shitty of a person he is and want nothing to do with him afterward.

If you were still the same pliant, conflict-avoiding Y/N, you’d be alarmed at the change in his expression and how his usual amused smirk melts into a straight-lined frown. You’d transform into the bright-eyed, bushy-tailed girl who’d laugh and pretend that this was all just a way to rile him up into fucking you, hoping that you could forget this moment ever happened.

But it feels like something has been lost in your dynamic that can never be brought back. You’re no longer okay with being lied to, manipulated. And Leehan, realizing how serious you are, seeks to take back control of this situation by flipping your bodies over so that you’re on your back and he’s on top of you.

He pins your arms above your head, holding them down so you can’t move.

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want to hear the answers to.”

He says the statement with a warning sort of tone but it only makes you laugh, no longer able to take his provocations and vague answers seriously. “Then don’t try to act hypocritical and treat me like I’m a fucking irresponsible idiot,” you retort, no hint of banter in your words as you hope he understands how serious you’re being, how done you are with his lies. “Having sex with guys without protection and not telling them about it. How do I know you haven’t been doing the exact thing you’re accusing me of?”

You ask a valid question that Leehan sees no way to get out of answering. Clearly, you already know (because of his disloyal, talkative fucking roommate) that he’s been seeing at least one girl that isn’t you. And because he can tell with certainty that your pliance is dependent on at least some kind of honesty from him, he tells you a technical truth when he says, “Since I met you, I’ve only been fucking you. No one else. I swear.”

It’s an answer that protects him from having to further delve into whether he’s seeing anyone else romantically, an important distinction that he isn’t interested in clarifying for the sake of your continued interest in him.

And as he watches you scan his face, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you seek to find any indication of either sincerity or hypocrisy in his expression, he seizes the opportunity provided by your momentary lapse in questioning to reach past the waistband of your leggings, sticking two fingers into your pulsing cunt.

He watches with satisfaction as even in your bitterness, you still can’t help the way your back arches and your mouth parts naturally at the action. Mirroring your tactics from before, he gives you great satisfaction in exchange for your hopeful compliance. Thrusting his long fingers inside of you, he mumbles in sensual truth, “Your pretty, wet pussy is the only thing that’s been occupying my brain for the last three months.”

The part of your brain that would question the credibility of his words is turned off like a lightswitch as the thrill from his fingers takes over. As much as you try to fight off what you’re experiencing so that you can regain the upper hand, it feels like it’s almost in revenge that he fingers you with such vigor that you can’t speak.

“Can you say the same? Huh, pretty?” he demands, digits angled just right so that the tips of his fingers repeatedly push against your most sensitive parts. “Tell me I’m the only person whose been fucking orgasms into your cunt.”

You could usually appreciate such possessive sentiments from Leehan when they were spoken in moments where there wasn’t any lingering resentment between the two of you. Now, they only annoy you, causing you to petulantly reply in mocking of his earlier words, “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to.”

And in a move that is surely in imitation of your earlier actions, he pulls his fingers out of you completely and with them, your orgasm. His expression is a handsome mixture of annoyance and frustration.

It feels like the two of you are in some sort of scornful, unspoken competition, you trying to get him to be honest and him trying to get you to drop this entirely. And all of this undercut by the fact that both really wanna fuck each other, only adding to the frustration of your pleasure being taken away.

Though your body reels regretfully from the sudden drop in adrenaline, it’s with an unmoved expression on your face that you sit up, making yourself level with him.

“What?” you retort derisively, amused to find him upset at tactics you only know because he modeled them for you so many times before. “Does it make you mad?”

“No,” he answers, a fierce expression on his face that lets you know despite the desire radiating between the two of you that he’s being serious when he says, “It makes me question the type of person you are.”

And as you poke his chest assertively, you reply, “A person abiding by the standards that you set,” reminding him once more how he lacks the right to feel entitled to your body.

You again question why he continues to insist that a no-strings attached arrangement is what he wants when it’s clear he doesn’t want you with anyone else.

And so, it’s in your confusion that you ask, “I’m giving you exactly what you want. So why does it feel like you’re punishing me?”

“This isn’t what I want,” he says in reply. And the way that he says it almost quietly, like a stream-of-consciousness that was accidentally blurted out loud, has you inclined to believe that maybe, he’s finally coming around to seeing just how poorly suited this arrangement is for the both of you.

So, it’s with a curious tilt to your voice that you ask, “Then what do you want?”

Looking at you with a sort of urgent, unyielding expression on his face, it’s after a moment of intense and searing silence between the two of you that he leans in to kiss you roughly. What was once a moment of willful competition between the two of you now becomes intense and panicked as the passion of the last few moments takes over your bodies.

Your hands move in a frenzy as you rush to take off one another’s clothes, and you get the feeling that had the fabric provided any real obstacle, you both would’ve been willing to rip each other’s pants and tops off. Actualizing your desire for one another becomes the most important and serious task to have ever been endeavored upon.

You’ve only just removed your final article of clothing when Leehan crawls between your legs, finding you soaked and pulsing in anticipation of his touch. Noticing this, he can feel himself going crazy with all of the unanswered questions he has about you and Taesan. He finds himself vocalizing these thoughts shamelessly as he mumbles, “Fuck, Y/N. I need you to be honest with me. Because if someone else has had this pussy, I’m gonna go crazy.”

“Make me come, and I’ll give you a straight answer,” you defiantly reply.

Tired of your games, it’s in expression of his growing impatience that Leehan slaps your pussy uncaringly. The act sends a jolt of shock through your body but especially your clit, making you moan in a mixture of both pain and pleasure.

“I’m serious, Y/N,” he says, and rather than being amused by his insistence like you were before, it's for the first time that you find yourself intimidated, as well as turned on. “Tell me the truth.”

Leehan has always been the leader in your sexual dynamic, but you’d never describe him as rough or dominant until now. Rattled by the change, you aren’t able to manage a reply to his demand, but it’s then that Leehan raises himself up so that your faces are level.

Making sure to keep his eyes on yours this time, he pushes three fingers inside of your aching cunt — more than you’ve ever taken from him and enough to have your eyes rolling back upon impact.

“Tell me that this pussy is mine,” he demands as he fucks you open with his fingers. You’ve never seen him this fired-up, this crazed, and it has you more turned on and pliant than you think you’ve ever been before.

His fingers thrust in and out of you with strength you’ve never felt before, and in an amount of time that you find to be pathetic, you can feel your stomach tensing with an approaching climax, moans leaving your mouth with every breath and every curl of his fingers.

But for the second time tonight, Leehan notices you’re about to come and rips it away from you by withdrawing his fingers entirely. And unlike before, you can’t pretend not to be dismayed as you whimper wistfully at the loss of contact. Leehan, unamused, only stares at you from above and says with finality in his tone, “Tell me the truth, and I’ll make you come.”

You can see now how serious he’s being, how important this is to him, and though you find it entirely irrational, the pulsing of arousal in your body is too strong to ignore.

“I never fucked him. He never touched me until today.”

“And anyone else besides him?”

“There’s no one else, Leehan,” you assure him, body wracked with the weight of several heavy breaths as you practically beg for him to believe you, to touch you, to relieve the almost painful aching of your cunt. “Just you.”

You’re pleasantly surprised when he doesn't require any additional scrutiny before accepting your answer at face value, muttering an approving “Good girl,” before diving between your legs.

And you guess by the almost hungry, desperate way he then proceeds to eat you out that his easy acceptance of your word is just as much in service to his own desire to taste you as it is to you and your enjoyment.

Because you find not just in this instance but always that Leehan gives head like his survival is dependent on your arousal. He licks and sucks and mouths at your clit, moaning languidly into your core like it's the best thing he’s ever tasted.

And as if that’s not enough to have you reeling, he brings his hand out from underneath your thigh and puts two long, crooked fingers back into your dripping hole, thrusting and curling them inside of you like he’s intent on finding the spot that will make you scream. You throw your head back and close your eyes at the feeling that washes over your body, something like electricity pulsing through you and making your legs shake.

Without intending it, your hips buck against his tongue in chase of your impending orgasm. And when he flattens the wet muscle, allowing you the agency to take your pleasure rather than him having to give it to you, it’s only seconds later when you feel your abdomen contracting with the intensity of your long awaited orgasm.

You’ve barely recovered from the high of your climax when you hear Leehan saying tauntingly from above you, “See? No one else can do that as good as I can.” He then spreads your legs apart, admiring the mess he’s made of you, slick turning your inner thighs shiny and wet. ”Don’t you know now why you shouldn’t fuck anyone else?

Refusing him the satisfaction of an answer, your only response is to sit up and tell him, “Lay down. I wanna ride you.

Leehan’s only show of resistance to this request is a raise of his eyebrow, but he’s otherwise pliant as you maneuver on the couch so that he’s flat on his back. You hover just below his hard-as-a-rock erection, realizing you should go and get a condom, but it feels like an ultimate test of both your honesty that you assertively inform him, “I’m on birth control.”

Understanding what you mean to imply with this admission, you watch as Leehan’s eyes gloss over, another wave of lust taking over at the notion of having raw sex. In a distant part of your brain that isn’t completely corrupted by wanting, you wonder if this is a good idea given that you have no way of proving whether he’s been honest about his sexual history with other girls.

But as you unconsciously scoot closer and allow his cock to brush against your folds, his encouragement of “Then sit on it,” ringing pleasantly in your ears, the only thing that delays you is your desire to further tauny him.

“Look at me,” you command passionately, holding on just barely to your own composure as you fight to get these words out amidst your own lust-corrupted brain. “If you stop, I stop. I want you to look in my eyes when I make you come.”

Leehan, either ignorant to how serious you’re being or uncaring, whimpers out your name in lieu of any indication that he understands and accepts what you’re saying. You sink down on him anyway and allow the feeling of being filled to the brim by his long, veiny cock to wipe out any and all thoughts out of your mind.

“Oh my god, fuck,” he mumbles out in expression of how good it feels, after you’ve only just began bouncing your body up and down his cock. You bear witness to the moment when the embrace of your tight walls becomes too much for him and he throws his head back, disregarding your words from earlier.

And although it hurts you to do so, makes your thighs burn and your lips part to let out a regretful whimper, you pull yourself upwards until his cock slips out of you completely.

“Open your eyes,” you demand assertively, not just for his sake but for your own, so that you can go back to riding the life out of him until you both can come. “Show me why you deserve this. Remind me why I keep letting you fuck me.”

The scathing remark and the brazen expression you wear as you say it causes Leehan to regain his focus, returning his gaze to yours and making sure to maintain it even as your reinsertion of his cock has him fighting not to shut his eyes closed. It’s with a feeling of regretful foreboding that Leehan realizes this is probably going to end way too soon, that the sickening combination of you riding him, your dominant and sultry words, the view of your body from above him, and the intense unbroken eye contact all work in service to his quickly approaching climax.

And even as you too feel yourself inching closer and closer to the point of incomprehensible return, you keep talking, feelings that you’ve been suppressing for too long coming out in sultry, brokenly-spoken expressions. “I want you to savor this moment. Memorize how it feels to be inside of me,” you tell him, and then, leaning down to bite the tip of his ear, you whimper, “Fuck Leehan. You’re so big.”

Your purposeful usage of all the things you know for a fact rile him up the most is not lost on him, and it’s almost like you want him to come as quickly and embarrassingly as possible. He lingers on that thought for less than a few seconds, but even just the fleeting idea of spilling his seed inside of you has his brain entering a whole nother level of depraved and uncontrolled, until he’s muttering out the word “Fuck,” in repeated succession and thrusting up into you wildly. “Gonna come,” he announces only seconds later.

“I know you are, baby. And when you do, remember that I can only make you feel this good,” you reply, surprised at your own ability to sound assured and in control in the midst of your own fast-approaching orgasm. But in a way, it feels like you grow more confident the more you watch his verbal and motor skills deteriorate with every bounce and squeeze of your pussy against his cock.

Making grunting sounds as his thrusts become sloppy and uncontrolled, he replies through gritted teeth, “I know. You’re my favorite girl, Y/N.”

You’ve always hated that term because of the implication it makes that there are other girls with whom he's comparing you to. But as you commit to fighting off all of the weak, vulnerable, sad emotions that have now only rendered you numb, it’s in another show of control that you reply, “Then say it. Tell me how good I’m making you feel.”

At first, you aren’t sure if Leehan can even manage a reply as you watch him grow focused and intent on his approaching orgasm. But it’s through a mixture of muffled grunts and whines, his hips never ceasing their thrusts into you, that he begins to speak.

“Your pussy was made for me. It’s all I ever think about. The sex we have – nghh – it’s the best I’ve ever had,” he tells you emphatically.

And the brokenness of his words, the way they come out rushed and passionate as if a suppressed part of him needs you to hear them, has you feeling profoundly impacted by the weight of them.

“You make me crazy, Y/N. I don’t want anyone else. Only you—”

It’s with one final rough, definitive thrust that Leehan comes inside of you. You’re overcome by the feeling of his hot, warm cum filling your walls, pussy clenching around him as you too experience another orgasm. And as you both recover from your highs, you can feel the atmosphere becoming almost instantaneously stuffy and awkward, the realization of what just happened and all of the things you allowed to come out in the heat of the moment hitting you all at once.

Wanting nothing more than to be released from the clutches of this regretful moment, you pull yourself off of him and wince at the feeling of his cum dripping out of you and onto your inner thighs, some of it spilling onto the couch.

And without ceremony, Leehan does what he does best – he gathers his clothes and things and begins to put them on as if nothing happened.

The silence that overcomes the two of you as you sit naked and uncovered on the opposite couch, watching him change, is unlike either of you. You’d usually at the very least manage a few words about how good that was, or small talk about anything fun happening soon on campus. Had Leehan been any good with silence, he might’ve just walked out and not said anything to you at all.

But it’s because of his own manipulative and egotistical desire to continue to remain in your good graces that he says, in desperation to ease the tension, “Hey. By the way, I’m sorry about the picture I sent you. I don’t usually read your messages, so I didn’t see what you had sent me beforehand.”

You stare at him, a mixture of disbelief and hostility coming over you all at once.

Having completely forgotten about the dick picture incident until now, you feel the emotions from then coming back up in a way that feels shocking given the relative inoffensiveness of his apology just now.

It’s hard for you to pinpoint what exactly about the statement sets you off.

Maybe it’s that you just had the most intimate, soul-baring sex, and now he’s basically back to reminding you of just how little he values you and your personhood.

How easy it is for him to completely ignore anything you say to him if it has nothing to do with him and his own pleasure.

And with these emotions more than likely reflected on your face, you watch as Leehan — like a startled deer in headlights — makes what are perhaps the quickest efforts he’s ever done to leave your dorm in a hurry.

“I should get back,” he’s replying coldly as he gets up, throwing his jacket over his body so fast that it folds awkwardly along his sides. “But thanks for this.”

This, he says casually. As if his seed isn’t currently wetting the inside of your legs right now.

“But Leehan, the rain—” you insist. Because you can hear thunder rattling your windows outside and you know that to walk home to his apartment is an entirely irrational notion.

“Don’t worry about me,” he tells you, already halfway to your door as he turns around to look at you, something like regret painted all over his passive expression. “We don’t do that for each other, remember?

And it’s with that last parting, ominous statement that you watch Leehan leave your dorm room without another look in your direction. He’s left your room like this — in a hasty blur without a word or an acknowledgement — more times than you can possibly count.

So why you find yourself overcome with the feeling that this may be the last time you’ll ever see him again, you’re not entirely sure.

But it’s because of that gnawing, persistent feeling, eating at you like it never has before, that you get up and find a robe to throw over your body so that you can go and find Leehan before it’s too late.

You’re not even sure of what you’re going to say when you find him standing on the outside porch of your building, head down and phone in his hand as he waits for an Uber. All you know is that it’s pouring buckets outside and even with the bit of roofing over your heads, the wind still blows rain onto your bodies, rendering his hair and face wet.

“Leehan,” you call out, watching as he turns to you and automatically freezes up as he realizes you followed him out here. “Wait. Don’t go.”

It’s at least a little bit understandable why Leehan appears taken-aback by your words and your presence — any other time you’ve had sex, you’ve never once tried to get him to stay behind, even though he could always notice in your expression or quiet intensity that you wanted him to.

So the fact that you’re here telling him not to go, and because of the nature of the sex you just had, it’s like he already knows that you’re planning to pour your heart out to him, and it’s in fear of that that he finds himself saying wearily, “Y/N—”

“No. Let me talk,” you assert before he can finish, a part of you feeling like if you don’t get these words out now, you never will. And so, fueled by the unexplainable feeling that this may be the last chance for you to tell him how you feel, you channel all the confidence you can possible muster and allow all the suppressed emotions from the last three months to spill out without any filter.

“After we have sex, I don’t want you to leave. I want you to stay because you like being with me. I want you to fall asleep with me. I want you to see me and treat me like I’m a human being and not some physical object that you use for sex and nothing else,” you exclaim with a self-pitying scoff.

“And I tried being the chill girl who just goes along with things that are casual. But Leehan, you make me feel things that no one ever has, and it’s not just the sex. For the past few months…it’s felt like my life only truly felt worth living if you were noticing me.”

You can plainly tell by Leehan’s stiff body language and overall lack of reaction that this entire spiel is making him uncomfortable. And as discouraging as the reaction is, now that you’ve started, it feels like you can’t stop until he knows everything that he’s put you through to get to this point.

“And maybe I only feel that way because when we fuck, it’s not like some one-night-stand or throwaway shit. It truly feels like I’m baring my soul to you. And I know that it’s not one sided,” you remark with confidence. Because being in bed with Leehan is the only time when you feel like you can truly understand him. It’s when your hearts, minds, and bodies are in sync and you can both be at your most vulnerable with each other.

“But then you leave, just like you’re doing now. And it makes me feel like the most massive piece of shit you can possibly imagine,” you mumble out with a broken, wet laugh.

Coming to the end of your spiel, you let your arms come down to your sides defeatedly, and with one last imploring look to Leehan’s blank and starry eyes, you ask the question that has been haunting you for the better part of three months now. “So what I guess I want to know is…what is it that’s stopping you from going all in with me? Is it that I’m just…not enough for you to want anything more than sex?” you question, insecurities that have been welling up for so long coming out in a way that has your voice sounding broken. “Or are you just too scared of commitment to allow yourself to feel loved?

“Because that’s exactly what I feel for you. And god dammit, Leehan, but I’m almost 80% sure you feel that way for me too.”

When you’re sure that there’s nothing else left to say and that you got everything you wanted to explain out, it’s with a relieving sigh that your body expels the weight of three months’ worth of pain, sadness, and thoughts of worthlessness.

And because you know it must be a lot to be on the receiving end of the heaviness of those words, it’s not surprising that the next few seconds after you finish speaking are filled by silence. Watching Leehan stare at you intensely, you allow him the time and the grace to process what he’s heard before you jump to assuming the worst of his silence.

But then, his first words to you hit you like an icy blast of wind.

“Y/N, you’re a good person. And the time we’ve spent together has been so much fun for me. But this has always been just that for me…fun. Sex,” he says unambivalently, framing the words delicately though it does nothing to prevent them from hitting you like a freight train. “And I’m sorry if I ever did or said anything that gave you an impression otherwise.

“But honestly, Y/N…” he continues, looking away from you and losing the ability to sugarcoat his thoughts as he expresses, “I told you from the forefront what this was. Why did you say yes if it wasn’t what you wanted?”

He asks a valid question that you unfortunately don’t have the answer to. Because honestly, what were you thinking? Looking back at that moment when he first proposed this arrangement, you have to wonder what possessed you to be delusional enough to think that this would possibly end well.

As embarrassing and humiliating it is to admit, it’s the sex. All those times he told you he desired you, how beautiful you were, how much he wanted you, made you feel like maybe he just didn’t know what he wanted. That eventually he’d come around.

“Because I didn’t think that it was that important to you,” you tell him, feeling your confidence shrinking in real time as your voice comes out quiet and whiny. “I thought…I thought you were changing your mind.”

“I don’t think we should keep doing this, Y/N,” he declares in reply, looking down at the ground in embarrassment. “I like you a lot, but I can’t continue on if I know you have the expectation that this is gonna blossom into something more. I’m sorry, but it’s just not.”

And with that last sobering pronouncement, Leehan runs a hand through his hair, an obviously fake chuckle let out of his lips as he seeks to break the awkwardness of this atmosphere. “This really wasn’t how I wanted this to go,” he mumbles out apologetically, and the way that he stands there stiffly lets you know he wants nothing else than to get away from you right now.

And sure enough, the sound of a notification going off draws both of your attention to his phone. Like a final dagger to your heart and self-esteem, he’s not even able to hide the relief that floods his expression as he announces, “My Uber’s here, so I just…goodbye, Y/N.”

You watch Leehan step off the porch and into the rain, the lack of light and storm clouds rendering him into nothing more but a blurry, gray silhouette.

It’s how you will more than likely remember Leehan as you watch him enter the white Mazda that pulls into the driveway.

Watch the car drive off knowing that you will more than likely never see him again.

He will forever be immortalized in your brain as the stormy force of a presence that came into your life like a tornado, wrecking everything around it and exiting like nothing happened, leaving you a splintered mess of a world to clean up for yourself.

You will be just another Natty, someone Leehan offhandedly mentions to his friends in the car with whoever he chooses to be his next victim, someone he spent a good few weeks with only to never mention them again.

“You’re an enigma, Kim Leehan,” you declared with sincerity. “I don’t want to be your girlfriend either. No offense.”

“None taken,” he replied with breezy indifference, bringing his hand to lay over the one you have on his face. “But don’t say that so easily. You don’t know me well enough yet.”

You rolled your eyes at yet another show of cockiness from him. “And are you saying if I did, I would fall for you?”

Even as his expression remained passive, he replied forebodingly, “Isn’t that usually how these things end?”

He was right.

The next two months of not seeing, talking, or hearing from Leehan go by in a gray-ish, incomprehensible blur.

You complete your classes, managing a passing GPA and thankfully holding on to your scholarship.

You go out to lunch and on study dates with your mutual friends, neglecting to explain why you always need to know who else is coming before you agree to going out.

You attend a couple parties and events on campus, wondering each time whether you’ll run into Leehan and not sure if the rigid feeling over your chest is because of hopefulness or fear at the idea of possibly seeing him.

And as you pack up your things to get ready to move out for the winter, it feels like you should be over this by now. You spent three months together. Tumultuous, but still only three – it doesn’t seem to make sense why you still feel so hurt.

But you’re now learning that situationships are the hardest to comprehend in their aftermath because it’s hard to know what exactly it is that you’re feeling wistful towards. Leehan isn’t your ex, but he’s also not a friend whom you simply grew apart from.

He’s another third thing that you can’t quite capture, making it difficult for you to reminisce on your exciting yet tainted memories with one another.

It’s with these thoughts running through your mind that you finish packing your last few items of furniture, readying them to be stowed away in the back of a U-Haul you rented for the day.

And with your dorm now basically empty, your roommate having moved out a few days before, you can’t help but to view it nostalgically from the vantage point of your doorway, memories of this semester’s escapades coming back to you all at once.

The dresser that you let Leehan stash his condoms in.

Your cheap bed whose loose, metal springs always robbed you of any chance at secrecy in your interactions.

Moving towards your kitchenette, you stare silently at the flowers he gifted you that one day, still alive despite several weeks of neglect. The little cardboard fish he stuck between the petals makes it appear almost like they’re swimming among colorful, sagging coral reefs.

Your eyes flit over to your couch, where you didn’t know at the time would be the last place he fucked you before he’d never talk to you again.

Going over these memories in your mind, it makes sense then why when you hear a knock resounding on your door, the first thing you think of is Leehan.

But surely, you’re just caught up in the emotions caused by the sudden moment of reflection; it has to be an RA, or a neighbor about to ask if they can borrow a broom and dustpan.

When you go to open your door, you don’t consider for a second that on the other end could be the one person you’re not prepared to see right now.

So when it swings open and you’re greeted by a straight-faced, wide-eyed Leehan, whose body is relaxed against the side of your door, it feels like all of the air is knocked out of your body.

“Hi,” he says plainly, straightening his posture when he sees you staring at him staggeringly. To say that you feel conflicted as you take in his handsome, tall form would be beyond an understatement. It doesn’t feel like it’s been that long since you’ve seen each other, and it’s almost like he could tell you right now that he’s here because he wants to fuck you and it would feel normal, like nothing has changed between the two of you.

But even in just making that mental observation, you feel angry and resentful that such a dynamic was normalized among the two of you for so long that you convinced yourself it was okay to be treated that way.

And as you stew in those feelings of renewed bitterness and frustration, you find yourself suddenly and strongly opposed to him being here, asking bluntly, “What is this? Why are you here?”

“I’m here to apologize,” he answers with an imploring look, and habitually you study his expressions in the hopes of discerning whether he’s being sincere or not.

But it’s with a feeling of resignation that you realize how done you are with trying to constantly read his mind and understand what motivates his decisions.

Because the same way there’s a chance that he really did show up here with good intentions, there’s just as equal a chance that he wants you to trust him again so that he can get his dick wet.

And so, in a move that brings you an immature level of satisfaction, you close the door on his face without another word.

You hear him exclaiming loudly “Y/N, wait!” on the other side of the door but you’ve already made up your mind, deciding that whatever he has to say isn’t worthy of your time or attention.

You’re done with his manipulative behavior, with his aloofness and undeserved self-assuredness, but most of all you’re tired of being made to feel like shit. And that’s all he ever did in those few months that you were sleeping together.

As you retreat to your bedroom, you go to return to packing your things, but the adrenaline from the passing moment makes your hand shake and your body pulse energetically. You need a second to pause and breathe and process what’s just happened, to walk around and pace away all of this unresolved energy.

But then you turn around to go back out into your living room, and that’s when you see Leehan standing right outside the arch of your bedroom doorway.

“Jesus fucking christ, Leehan!” you exclaim in a mixture of both surprise, frustration, and confusion as you wonder whether he broke in or if you—

“You left the door unlocked,” he replies calmly, and even though he knows he has a lot to make up for, he still can’t help the smirk that comes to his face as he jokes, “Kinda 101 not to do that if you don’t want someone coming in. That’s like me leaving the filter of my fish tank —”

“Get out, Leehan. Get out! I have nothing left I want to say to you!” you shout, impatient and uncaring to his jokes and his dimples and everything else about him that used to charm you. It’s all meaningless to you now, and you don’t care if you look crazy or unhinged when you go to physically push him out of your dorm.

But even with the nonchalant, noncommittal way he holds onto your wrist to restrain you, you still only manage to move him a few steps, much to your dismay and rage.

And so, in a heat-of-the-moment, emotionally driven decision, you move to close your bedroom door on his face. While successful in keeping him out of your bedroom, you don’t even realize until seconds later that he’s still free to roam in your hallway, kitchenette, and living room, while you’ve essentially just locked yourself in.

Predictably, you can hear Leehan chuckling outside of your door as he makes this same realization.

“You know, if it was your goal to get me to leave, then I’m not sure locking yourself in your room really…” he begins to say, not able to keep the amusement out of his voice at the foolish mistake on your part. But, remembering the reason why he came here in the first place, he tones it down to say soberly, “Nevermind. It doesn't matter.”

You walk over to the side of your bedroom that’s opposite from the doorway, sitting down on the floor, determined to tune out whatever it is that Leehan is about to say. Maybe if you stay silent and let him tire himself out, he’ll eventually leave knowing that there’s nothing he can say to make up for how he’s made you feel.

“I”m not super good at explaining myself, or talking at all, honestly. I go on tangents and my mind is just…a giant fucking minefield. So I wrote down what I wanted to tell you.”

Leehan’s voice is distorted but nonetheless able to be heard clearly through the thin wood that makes up your door, so much so that you can clearly hear the crumpling noises of a paper being unraveled as he starts to read.

“If you’re listening to me read this, it’s because I somehow managed to convince you to hear me out. Either that, or I broke into your dorm, which feels like the more likely option,” he says with almost no emotion behind the words, and against your own discipline, you can feel your lips twitching into a smirk automatically in reaction to his strange, off putting way of speaking.

“I know my insistence can come off as crass given how shitty of a person I’ve been to you. But I knew that today was move-out day, and I needed you to hear me out before you left.”

You hear him take a deep breath before continuing with the next part of his speech. “As you know, I’m a pretty fearless person. But when it comes to admitting my feelings for you, I’ve had a much harder time. Truthfully, since I met you, it’s been because of my own immaturity that I’ve seen other girls romantically. Even though I always knew my feelings for you were different, I pushed them away in the hopes of avoiding having to commit to anyone. When you told me how you really felt for me, truthfully, it scared me. I didn’t want to know what my life would look like if I decided to be with just one person.

“I thought that by rejecting you, by being away from you for this long, that my feelings for you would go away,” he remarks with the same sort of unfeeling, neutral tone to his voice, as if he knows the explanation behind his actions is unimportant given how they’ve impacted you. “I wanted to view you as just another name on a long list.”

But it’s with his next words that passion and sincerity and longing bleed into his voice all at once to say, “But it’s taken me this time of being away from you to realize that…I’m still not over you.”

After minutes of hanging onto his every word despite every inclination that has been telling you to do otherwise, it’s those last five words that hit you like a freight train.

And you know it’s foolish and dumb to be believing anything that comes out of his mouth anymore, but you suppose it’s no different from all of the other times you continued to let him in even when he showed you so many times why you shouldn’t.

Your reasoning remains the same – you just feel an irrational pull to him that is all-consuming, your heart connected to his in a way you can’t control.

And it doesn’t help that everything he says next is all of the affirmation you’ve been wanting and needing him to give you throughout your entire time of sleeping together. “You deserve someone that’s going to treat you with respect. Someone that makes you feel loved and beautiful and desired. Someone with the courage to be vulnerable and who will care for you in your most vulnerable moments. And I’m sorry if you felt like you didn’t have that with me,” he remarks, and you don’t even realize you’ve been holding your breath throughout his spiel until your chest literally contracts from the lack of air to your lungs.

“But if you can find some way to forgive me, then I want to make us work,” he asserts pleadingly. And with the finality that it feels like follows that statement, you get the feeling that what he says next is no longer being read off the paper.

Especially when you can hear what you think is the top of his head, leaned against the door with a small thunk as he quietly laments, “I want you, Y/N. Not just sexually, but for everything that makes you who you are. It’s always been you. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize it.”

It’s quiet after that, so much so that you can hear his small and broken breaths being let out against the wall. You hear what you think is the sound of his hand being brought up to rest next to his head. And as the feeling of being pulled in so many directions takes over you, your heart in a heated battle with your brain, it’s after a few moments of silence that you stand up and walk over towards the door.

Leehan, observing the shadows of your footsteps through the little gap at the bottom of the door, perks up when it’s just a thin barrier of wood that keeps you from being face-to-face with one another.

You prepare yourself to be annoyed when you open the door in expectation that he will be his usual unreadable, unserious self.

But it’s in surprise but also a little relief that what you find when you face him is the expression of a man who’s truly understood the gravity of his mistakes and feels shameful over them.

“You look really pretty,” he blurts out, the suddenness of the remark almost betraying your slowly but surely growing feelings of understanding towards him. But you also can’t help that his random candor makes you laugh, reminded of some of your earlier interactions as he sheepishly says, “Sorry, bad timing.”

Still standing a fair distance away from him, the tip of your toes just barely meeting the tip of his as you look down at them to avoid eye contact, you attempt to ease the tension of the moment with a shy but truthful, “Thank you, Leehan. For the compliment and for the apology.”

You can feel the heat of his gaze as he tilts his head to stare at you, his attention feeling hopeful but not in a way that makes you feel pressured, but in a way that has you compelled to be completely vulnerable and honest with him.

“I’m just…really scared that you’ll hurt me,” you confess somberly, and it still feels strange to even say things like this to him because you’ve spent so much time suppressing your negative emotions when it comes to Leehan. Scared that you’d lose his approval and feeling like you needed such approval to feel good about yourself.

But over time as your relationship progressed and you found yourself little by little regaining the sense of self that your interactions with Leehan robbed you of, you were able to realize that you didn’t deserve to be treated like an afterthought, like an object only useful if it was giving satisfaction to someone else.

And it was in resentment that over these two months of not speaking you felt like Leehan believed that, too.

But now after hearing him explain himself and believing genuinely that he wants to be with you, you now battle with the parts of you that are scared to believe him in fear of getting hurt and the parts of you that so badly also want to be in a relationship with him.

“I’m not scared,” he tells you, the confidence you’ve come to know him for coming out more strongly than ever before. “I’ve got you, remember?”

He then goes to place his two middle fingers underneath your chin, pushing your jaw upward so that you’re forced into eye contact. Staring into his endless and piercing eyes, it’s for the first time that you feel like you understand him in a non-sexual context. “Is that supposed to mean something to me?” you mumble quietly in reply.

And it’s as you feel your lips twitching into a content smile that Leehan leans in to kiss you, and you accept the gesture without question.

five months later

“I wanna go half on a baby with you.”

These are the words that Leehan remarks to your sleeping form as you lay comfortably beside him in bed, sleeping but getting roused into attention by the faint sound of his voice.

“A fish baby, of course,” he clarifies, though you don’t even register what he’s saying as you remain half-asleep. “I think the ones in my tank are getting lonely.”

It’s hard to tell sometimes whether Leehan is musing out loud to himself or talking directly to you, but either way, the deep tone of his voice wakes you up just the same.

You lay on your stomach, opening one eye to find him sitting up on his elbow and staring down at you with a curious expression on his face. His hand, resting on your back, draws unintelligible figures on the skin that’s left uncovered by your night shirt.

All in all, it's a pretty domestic, intimate scene, had you not glanced over at your phone to find how early it was.

“Leehan, it’s seven a.m,” you complain to your boyfriend who still just stares dreamily at your sleepy figure. “What are you yapping about?”

Too familiar with your morning grumpiness to be phased by it, it’s with an unmoved expression that Leehan casually replies, “Just about how much I want a baby with you.”

When you hear those words come out of Leehan’s mouth, you’re sure you must still be asleep and that this is just an incredibly vivid dream. Either that, or you’re dating the strangest person in the world.

Given that both realities are entirely plausible, it’s in your tiredness and confusion that you sit up from the bed completely, staring at a relaxed Leehan with raised eyebrows. “Don’t you think we’re a little young for that? I mean eventually, sure, but while we’re in school—”

“I was talking about fish,” he interrupts you to say, chuckling at your confused expression and giggling again when you pout at being laughed at. “But since you’re so eager, why don’t I put a baby in you right now?”

Your own laughter in reaction to his words is suppressed when he presses a large hand on your stomach, pushing you back down on the bed. He leans in to kiss you, but per usual, you refuse to make things easy for him.

Reaching behind your head, you grab a pillow and smack him in the face with it, creating a barrier between your bodies. “You’re such a weirdo,” you playfully quip, a designation he only takes in stride as he goes to throw the pillow somewhere on the floor.

“I’m your weirdo though,” he emphasizes, and it’s as you’re both smiling in satisfaction that he leans in to press his lips against yours.

And as his cold hands roam your warm body, you’re hit with a sudden wave of happiness as you acknowledge how far gone the days of having to wish for him to stay even fir minutes after you’ve had sex truly are.

Because in the past five months since you’ve gotten together exclusively, not only is it routine for him to stay behind, but you also get to wake up together and experience these sleepy, romantic moments.

The moments when he slowly kisses down your body, dragging his plush lips down your sternum until he’s positioned between your legs.

The moments when you pull softly at his hair as he languidly drags his tongue up and down your folds, begging you in his gruff, sleep-affected voice to come all over his face.

The moments when you could be sponning sideways, on top of him, or below him and he’ll still find a way to spread your legs apart, pressing his long, veiny cock inside of you until you’re overwhelmed by how full you are.

The moments where his tiredness renders him impatient and he fucks into you so roughly that you can barely form words.

The moments when he kisses you lazily through every thrust until the sex becomes so good that all you can manage is the occasional swipe of your tongue against his lips or a whimper into his mouth.

The moments when you reach your climax together and he rocks his come in and out of you like he never intends on pulling out.

The moment when you moan out his name, understanding why when you first met he insisted that to know it was a privilege. That to know him is a privilege.

And finally, your favorite, the moments when you either fall back asleep in each other’s hold or get up to shower the sleepiness and sweat off of each other.

Today is one of those days that you relent to getting up and showering, convinced only by the fact that neither of you has a morning class, making it a perfect day to visit the pet shop conveniently located just a few miles from your college town.

“What about this one?”

You turn to face Leehan in the fish tank lined aisle of the pet store, lips curling into a smile as you observe him pressing his face up to the glass in awe. As you come up to his side to view the brown-colored fish that have him so captivated, it’s in a surge of honesty that you reply, “Don’t you think they’re kind of…ugly?”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes as you watch your boyfriend gasps dramatically in reaction to your words, even brushing his hand against the fish tank in a gesture akin to patting someone's head. “They can hear you, you know. I’m so sorry, fishies.”

Ignoring his childishness, you look around at the surrounding fish and sigh as you’re overwhelmed by all the different options. “Honestly, Leehan, you should just pick one. They all look the same to me.”

“But it should be something we both like,” he answers with a pout, circling the aisles a few more times before finally stopping at a tank in the very corner.

Inside of it are an array of multi-colored fish, but the one that stands out to you is an entirely white one with a patch of vibrant red at the top of its head.

It would be indistinguishable from a goldfish had it not been for its striking color and the appendage that looks almost like an inside-out brain on its head.

A label beside the tank reads Oranda.

“What about this one?” asks Leehan in curiosity, and in an almost alarming way, he points out the exact same fish you were just eyeing.

You come around to the other side of the tank to view it from another angle, giggling innocently when you make eye-contact with Leehan through the distorted lens of the water. “It’s pretty,” you remark simply, and because Leehan has come to know you so well, he knows that the simple attribution is a sign of high praise from you.

“Should we make it ours?” he asks you officially, and though you’re certain that this is the fish you’ve been looking for, there’s one question popping up in your brain that you still can’t find the answer to.

“What should we name it?”

You both take a beat to ponder on the question. Leehan chimes in first, blurting out, “I know. Loony.”

At this, you scoff, unsure as to where he would have gotten such an idea from. “Are you trying to say that our child is crazy?” you quip in feigned offense.

“No. It’s short for lunar eclipse. That’s when I knew we were gonna be more than just a one night stand,” he tells you sincerely, and with that context you find yourself becoming quickly attached to both the name and the fish who you take home in a plastic bag only moments later.

You allow Leehan to take the lead in homing Loony, a process that involves lots of complicated jargon about adjusting the water temperature and changing the salinity that you mostly pretend to understand as he explains it to you.

And when you are finally able to sit side by side in front of the tank and watch through the glass as Loony swims among the other fish, it’s with an adoring tone of voice that you hear Leehan say, “It’s pretty, awesome, right?”

At the sound of his voice, you turn to face him, and without being entirely conscious of it, you simply take in his features and how content he looks to be here, with you and with these fishes.

“Yeah,” you reply, laying down and resting your head on his shoulder. “It’s awesome.”

taglist: @lailols @papichulomacy @0310s @softiwoon @gardenforwon @cherrytaesan @mryuyux @saintriots @lonelylandofan @cyber-tiny @keyywrld @isabellah29 @amerecerasus @cadidupped @suhovhs @lionhanie @taesanmoon @revelettre @s9nwoo @brachioswrld @moneygal0re @karatttttt

thank you all sm for your support on this fic <3 your reactions, feedback, and compliments have meant the world

#leehan #boynextdoor #leehan smut #boynextdoor smut #leehan x reader #leehan fluff #leehan angst #boynextdoor fics #hornychristianprincess #donghyun boynextdoor #boy next door smut #donghyun smut #donghyun boy next door smut #kpop smut #kpop angst #kpop fluff

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erabu-san · 2 days

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It makes sense when you have a character you relate to very strongly, that when you see things with that character it sometimes can make it feel very personal and when it’s something that doesn’t match how you feel about the character it is overwhelming and you can’t stand to look at it. I am the same way with my own comfort character, it is hard to look in the character tags even though I want to see art because of the way a lot of the fandom shows them. Especially because one relationship is always shown romantic or sexual but I like it more like friends or siblings or some other close bond. For me, in my head if I see the ship tag I try to just change it to mean a friendship haha, but it is hard sometimes.

Who knows if it’s right or wrong to feel this way about characters but your own boundaries on your own blog aren’t hurting anyone so it isn’t their business. Sometimes things are just bad and you can’t explain it but don’t want to see it anyway.

Anyway platonic shippers deserve to have their own art and content of their characters and relationships, people who act like they are entitled to make every art romantic are just mean.

!!! I know this ask came in my box when I was posting a rant, I am so sorry for taking so long to answer 😭 (sometime I just don't know what to answer, or felt a bit overwhelmed abt the situation kskdkfkzs)

Thank you so much for understanding, anon ! And so sorry you also live through all of this too ! 🥹

#reply #it feels great 😭 srsly thank you anon !!#sometime people said “this is internet what do u expect”#why does it becomes an excuse for beong stupid idk 🙄#i MEAN I'M NOT SAYING PEOPLE R STUPID BUT.... yeah. i did meet people under my comment being just huh. how to say it politely #completely misunderstanding the concept of comprehension and respect that it looks like they are purposely being annoying ☝️#I already actively block people or mask them #but sometime I read their tag or comments and I can't help to sigh loudly 🙄#ANYWAYBGBDBGDJD done of being salty why having brain having nervous system while it can have a chill system ‼️

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alienoresimagines · 3 days

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Hi, 🤗 If you take the clegan prompt and it inspires you, what about SCREAM or CAREFUL? (depending of your whump mood 😉)

[ SCREAM ]: sender spots the receiver in a terrified or considerably panicked state, and picks them up to carry them to a less terrifying place to calm down.

[ CAREFUL ]: sender gently lifts the receiver out of their seat and carries them carefully to bed after noticing they fell asleep and not wanting to waken them.

Sooo I may have gone a little overboard with this but it was so much fun, thank you !!❤️ I went with the second one but I'm keeping [SCREAM] in a corner of my doc ;) Here you have 2520 words of fluff and a tiny bit of angst though I apologize if the writing is a bit rusty, I haven't written anything since ... *checks AO3* 2022 so it's been awhile 😅 I hope you'll like it ❤️

And thank you to @triggerlil for beta reading this 🥰😘

Title is from Drag Me Under by Sleep Token (amazing Clegan fanvid with it here )

Drag Me Under | Buck x Bucky (also on AO3)

Buck’s always been quiet by nature, he doesn’t particularly like being the center of attention. When he smiles wide, he ducks his head and puts a hand in front of his mouth to hide and prevent anyone from noticing him. It’s rare to get a full-body laugh from him and damn near impossible if you’re not Bucky. So, it figures he’d be a quiet sleeper too. If Bucky’s attention wasn’t always somehow on Gale and every little thing he does, he doubts he’d have noticed the other man had fallen asleep. As it is, Bucky is mesmerized, the radio and the baseball game all but forgotten. A bomb could go off and he doesn’t think it would be enough for him to tear his gaze away.

Buck’s leaning on the armrest, not quite slumping down but not sitting as straight as he would awake, his eyes closed and pink lips slightly parted to let out soft exhales. His eyelashes fan over delicate cheekbones, mirroring his usually carefully styled hair that falls over his forehead in soft strands, no longer abiding by the products Buck had slicked them back with in the morning. Bucky aches to touch, to card his fingers through the golden locks and feel again how soft they are. To feel Buck’s warmth on his fingertips as he gently traces them over his cheeks. He looks young, Bucky thinks, which isn’t quite right. He looks his age, a fact that Bucky often forgets because he’s never thought of Buck as anything but his equal. Yet in the dim light of the table lamp painting his skin a soft gold, shadows rounding the edges of a jawline still too sharp after months of not enough food, book forgotten on his lap, Buck looks unbearably young, and Bucky is overwhelmed with the need to care, to protect.

It’s not like Buck can’t do that for himself. Bucky knows firsthand how capable Buck is, and has experienced multiple times the warmth curling in his chest and the burst of pride taking over his being at seeing just how competent Buck is. But there is a special trust in Buck allowing himself to let his guard down in such a vulnerable manner around him. A silent “I know you won’t hurt me” that Bucky still can’t bring himself to feel deserved. It only makes him want to curl around Buck and hold him tight to his chest, show him that his trust won’t be misplaced again, that Bucky will never let himself fall as low as he did once. He will never forgive himself for hurting his Buck as he did in the Stalag, even if the man himself had forgiven immediately, had insisted that “there’s nothing to forgive Bucky, it’s just this place”. In a way, he was right. Any plane of existence witnessing Bucky being intentionally cruel and hurting Buck had to be Satan’s personal hell. It certainly was Bucky’s.

He’ll never forget the way Brady tensed whenever he was close or the way Benny scooted closer to Buck when he approached. At first, he’d thought they were scared of him and while the thought left a bitter taste in his mouth, he couldn’t bring himself to care enough to try and snap out of it. Only after his fight with Gale, when Benny placed himself between him and Buck for their meager dinner while looking him straight in his eyes, his jaw clenched and anger pouring out of him in waves did John realize that they thought they needed to protect Buck from him. Flak could have pierced the cockpit while he was on the left seat, pinning him to the metal while steel pierced his heart till he was choking on his own blood, and Bucky knew it would have hurt less than that realization. Buck had never made any indication that he was scared of him but Bucky had hit him. The mere thought of it, the feel of his rib cracking under his boot had Bucky nauseous whenever his thoughts strayed back to it. Hurting Buck felt like betraying his own heart. That had been a terrifying awakening and when the bloodcurdling shame had turned into steel determination, he’d promised himself: never again. He will never be the reason Buck hurts or feels unsafe.

And here they were now, Buck feeling safe enough to fall asleep just an arm’s distance away. Bucky’s no stranger to duty, but this one, this promise, feels like the most important one in his life. Perhaps that’s what his mother had meant when she had said, long before he enlisted, in their little kitchen, as Bucky stood at a crossroads not knowing what he wanted to do with his life, that every person was put on this Earth for a purpose and that he’d find his soon.

Suddenly overwhelmed with the need to make sure that this is real, that he did get home to Buck and Buck to him, he rises from his armchair, turning off the radio as he does, and crouches down in front of Buck, letting his eyes roam all over the prettiest face he’s ever seen. The parted pink lips with a cupid’s bow that always made Bucky want to capture those lips with his own to feel how soft they were, the constellations of freckles and beauty marks on his cheeks and lightly dusting his nose that he often traces with his fingers until Buck complains that the touch tickles but still leaning into it, the fading scars on his cheeks that Bucky always kisses in the morning when he wakes up and in the evening when they go to bed.

Yet, despite his vow and his best wishes bordering on despair, he knows there are some things he can’t protect Buck from, the evidence of this painted in lilac under the younger’s eyes. Bucky wishes he could erase the bruises with a caress of his fingers and tender kisses, that he could place himself as a dam sturdy enough that nightmares could only crash against him without ever reaching the shore of Buck’s dreams. It hurts to know he can only hold Buck close to his chest and whisper sweet nothings in his ear to bring the love of his life out of the water and back to him, anchoring him with gentle caresses and mindless humming until memories of war and horrors recede like waves back to the sea. His gaze lingers on the traces of fatigue on Buck’s face, made all the more apparent by the lack of frown between his brows, the relaxed tilt of his mouth for once not pulled in a serious line.

Experimentally, Bucky slowly takes the book from Buck’s hands, letting them fall on the man’s lap. He doesn’t stir as Bucky carefully places the bookmark where Buck presumably stopped reading before placing it on the coffee table, near the lamp. Had Buck been able to sleep for more than three hours a night for the past week, he would’ve woken at the movement and blinked sleepily at Bucky before bashfully apologizing, ducking his head just so as he did. His sweet, darling Buck, now exhausted by memories that wouldn’t leave him alone. Bucky’s heart twists painfully in his chest and he’s helpless but to reach out and touch, gently stroking the golden locks off his forehead before cupping his cheek. Instinctively, Buck leans into the touch of his palm until his head rests entirely against the cradle of Bucky’s hand, trusting him even at his most vulnerable, even when he’s not conscious of it. John’s so in love that he doesn’t think he’d need a B-17 for him to soar through the skies. He’s never held anything so precious in his life. How strange, to know his heart fits so perfectly into the curve of his palm.

Swallowing past the sudden lump in his throat and blinking back the wetness in his eyes, Bucky sighs softly before weighing his options. Waking up Buck is clearly out of the question, because if there are some things Bucky can’t protect the other man from, sheltering one of his rare peaceful rest is the least he can do. He could wedge a pillow between the armrest and Buck’s head, cover him with a blanket and let him sleep but the other would still wake up with a stiff back. They’d both slept in worse conditions during the war, but echoes of a past confession swirl in Bucky’s mind until they form the image of a little Gale, not even Buck yet, let alone One-Engine Cleven, sleeping and shivering outside a pony track. He doesn’t have to think about it for long before deciding to find a way to get Buck in bed without waking him up. For as long as Bucky lives, Gale Cleven will never have to sleep anywhere but in a warm and comfortable bed, where he’ll feel safe and free to burrow into the covers and stretch in the lazy morning while curling up closer to Bucky.

Admittedly, there aren’t many options to get Buck in bed that don’t require him to be awake. He could gently shake him awake and hope Buck won’t wake entirely, just enough to walk somewhat on his own while Bucky guides him, but there”s always the risk that he won’t be able to fall back asleep after that. So, Bucky won’t wake him. The only way is to carry Buck to their bed and, while Bucky is confident he can, he doesn’t want Buck to wake in the middle of their trip and panic. Bucky strokes his thumb back and forth on the other’s cheekbone and watches as Buck imperceptibly nuzzles his palm, his face completely relaxed. Trusting. John has always been a betting man and he’ll be damned if one day he doesn’t bet on them. BuckandBucky. Pursing his lips, he nods once as he comes to a decision, edging slightly closer to the couch as he wiggles an arm beneath bony knees and the other around Buck’s shoulders.

“Alright, doll, wheels up.”

It doesn’t take as much effort as Bucky would have liked to scoop Buck in his arms, pausing when he stirred lightly once as he maneuvered the other’s arm on his stomach so it wouldn’t hang awkwardly off his frame and a second time to make sure his head was resting comfortably on Bucky’s shoulder. Even though it’s been months since the Stalag, Buck still hasn’t gotten back all the weight he lost and while he is nowhere near as skinny as he was in February, he’s still too light. It makes Bucky’s guts go tight with worry and he tightens his grip with the arm he has under Buck’s knees and the one around his back, pressing a kiss to the golden crown. They’ll have pancakes for breakfast tomorrow.

Hair the color of wheat tickles his neck and chin as he moves carefully up the stairs and Buck’s warm exhales fan over his chest. Through his worry, Bucky can feel warmth spreading through his entire being at such a demonstration of trust and vulnerability. He knows he’s broader than most, and his build has often been a source of pride, especially in his teens while he was still trying to find himself among others. And though Buck is no small man either, only two inches shorter than Bucky, he’s always been on the leaner side. No less powerful than him, but all grace and lean muscles. In the Stalag, Bucky had despaired and cursed at the difference as he watched Buck wither away faster than others, his shoulder blades like two broken wings piercing through his shirt that hung off his frame. Now, he feels a sense of gratefulness that perhaps, his slightly broader form helps Buck feel protected and safe.

Even though Buck’s lighter than he should be, Bucky’s arms and backs scream in protest at the prolonged exertion but he grits his teeth against the ache and opens their bedroom door with his elbow. The moon hasn’t risen yet, the sky a pinkish color through the window illuminating the room with a soft glow. Carefully, Bucky deposits Buck on the bed, first his legs then his upper body, one hand cradling the back of his head as he lowers him to the pillow. Buck sleeps on, lips slightly parted, and Bucky can’t resist swiping a few errand strands off his forehead before placing a feather-light kiss there. Stretching back up, he considers changing Buck into comfier clothes as he knows the man will purse his lips in disgust at the wrinkles that are sure to be in his current clothes in the morning but Bucky’s own limbs are calling out for him to rest. He’ll just kiss Buck’s pout in the morning, he figures with a grin. Still, he knows Buck hates sleeping without a blanket on, even in the sweltering heat of summer, so he untucks the covers from their army-regulated folds and manages to cover Buck with them, effectively tucking him in. Hovering over him, hand braced near his head on the pillow, Bucky’s once again struck by how beautiful the other is. With his blond hair forming a halo on the white pillow, he really does look like an angel. Bucky’s angel. His gaze drifts to the long blond eyelashes fanning over delicate cheekbones, and his lips tingle with the need to see again how they’d feel against them. Slowly, he lowers himself to press barely there kisses to the skin under Buck’s eyes, feels the soft brush of eyelashes and the warmth of his skin against his lips. It’s only been an hour at most but Bucky already misses the blue of his eyes. John huffs a laugh at the thought. He really is gone for this man, isn’t he ?

Then, Buck shifts in his sleep and Bucky freezes, afraid he’d woken him up with his affections. But the other only turns on his side, one hand going under his pillow while the other latches on to Bucky’s as it rests against the pillow, and brings it closer to his face, sighing contentedly as he does so. Bucky’s heart starts hammering in his chest as waves of fondness pour out of him. He is filled with so much love for the man under him he’s surprised he hasn’t exploded yet, but he supposes it is because his love bleeds through everything he does, every word he speaks. This, he thinks, this is why I fought. For this love, I’d do it all over again. As long as I get to love him like this, I’ll never not come home.

Careful not to dislodge his hand from Buck’s gentle hold, he slides under the covers behind him, chest to back, tangling their legs together, and nuzzles his hair before pressing a kiss to the top of his spine.

“You and me, Buck.”

Buck, still asleep, instantly presses closer until they are closer to one than to two like they’ve always been and always were meant to be.

BuckandBucky.

#clegan #buck x bucky #clegan fic #mota fic #masters of the air #mota #john egan #bucky egan #gale cleven #buck cleven #ali writes

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sleepnowmychild · 2 days

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Ight hypnosers, let’s talk about it

Cw for talk of wet dreams and sex, also brief mentions of sexual trauma. Fair warning. But I’ve touched in nightmares so I think we should talk about the other well known kind of dreams too.

Wet dreams, that sexual shit. We all know what that is, and if you don’t you’re probably too young to be on the internet. A lot of the time, these dreams are purely just hormone induced, typically during puberty or if you’re trans, when you go on hormones and go through SECOND puberty (as a trans masc on T, believe me that shit hits you HARD at like months 3-7). But when Hypnos gets involved in these dreams it’s a reminder he isn’t just a gentle comforting being like he’s mostly portrayed as, but has a very much adult oriented side. This is a god who had male and female lovers, many kids of his own and was mainly worshiped in Ancient Greece, a very much sex everywhere time period. Seriously the amount of porn (gay porn to be exact) on Ancient Greek pottery is wild. And Roman coins too, there’s a bunch of them found.

So yeah, he’s got his gentle side, his more gloomy gothic side (nightmares, being the twin of death etc) and his “here have the kinkiest dream of your life” side. And there’s plenty of reasons why he’d send you a sexual dream to begin with. Helping you realise your sexuality, getting you to take notice of your pent up hormones, helping you realise you’re indeed attracted to that person you dreamed about, or alternatively that your NOT into them if you wake up thinking ‘ew, why them?’

And as for sexual trauma, sometimes those nightmares are simply PTSD, your own subconscious reacting to trauma. And sometimes like I said with the nightmares, it’s Hypnos telling you that you NEED to work through that trauma, to help you realise just how badly it’s hurting you subconsciously.

You can absolutely go to him for advice or help with these kinds of dreams, it’s within his domain so he absolutely won’t judge. He’s a god, he’s more knowledgeable and powerful than any of us will ever be, no god truly cares how much or how little mortals desire and act upon sexual urges (you know, unless it’s non consentual, you’ll get your ass kicked for that. ALWAYS get consent guys, and ALWAYS support victims).

Sex is still a stigmatised thing, despite the fact it’s literally how babies are made and completely natural. Even more stigmatised is queer and kinky sex/fantasies. So that societal pressure drilled into us from the moment we gain conciseness can make it feel like we can’t talk about it to anyone, even deities. Or that only deities directly linked to sex (e.g. Aphrodite and Eros) are the only acceptable ones to talk to. Get that idea out of your head ok? Because any deity will be open to talking about it, helping you with it etc. again, they’re deities. They couldn’t care less what us humans are into as long as it’s safe and consensual.

In fact, there’s a bit out there to suggest Eros and Hypnos were worshipped alongside each other. What is the bed used for other than sleeping? Exactly, sex. The bed is seen as a scarred place not only because it’s where you’re safe from the woes of the waking world, but because you invite people into it to perform acts that involve love and trust.

And what about if you’ve had a sexual dream WITH a deity in it? That’s probably a whole can of worms to be opened, I’m sure the godspousing people will probably be more of an expert on that than I am. Of course, it could just be your own subconscious, maybe you’ve got a bit of a crush on that deity (which is perfectly fine btw, unless they’re specifically a virgin deity who is all about staying celibate, then I’d raise an eyebrow). Or who knows? Maybe they’re trying to get something across to you. THAT is definitely something you’d want to talk about with them.

TLDR: Hypnos doesn’t care you have wet dreams, using your bed for sexual stuff etc. he’s absolutely ok with you talking to him about it, coming to him for help etc. don’t let the stigma around sex stop you from turning to him or any other deity for advice and guidance on your sexuality.

#cw sex mention #cw sex talk #hypnos god #hypnos devotee #hypnos deity #hellenic deities #hellenic pagan #hellenic polytheism #hellenism #hellenic worship #greek mythology #cthonic gods #hypnos devotion #helpol #hellenic polytheistic #hellenic polythiest #wet dream #wet dreams

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cmyk-anaglyph-honeycomb · 4 hours

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Helluva Boss S2E9 blind blogging

[did the minimum about of editing and half of it was done while I was at work, so please excuse any grammar mistakes.]

(Mostly relating to the last episode)

Again, Stolas refuses to just talk. He was walking away and teleported Blitzo out of the building but now, after ignoring texts, he gets pissy cuz Blitzo wants to talk. 100% of this is because Stolas doesn't want a conversation. Blitzo misunderstands his intentions and jumps to conclusions, but when at least 3 opportunities to talk are given, Stolas shuts down.

Also where was this desire for a real relationship months ago after Blitzo admitted that he didn’t see their relationship as anything other than Stolas wanting to sleep with him. THAT is when they should've had an honest talk not mouths of avoiding each other.

(Okay now this ep)

God they made Blitzo so obnoxious to prove a point.

Veronika is a famous popstar, wtf does she care enough to throw an anti-Blitzo party? They have barely interacted in the show, never once in this season, why is she suddenly so pissed at him? How does she know Stolas is an ex, that happened recently.

If Stolas is that ‘done’ with Blitzo why doesn’t he just teleport him off the property again?

"Im UnCoMfOrTaBlE wITh HoW yOuRe SpEaCkInG tO mE nOw" fuck off. You had no problem going on a rant about all the dirty shit you wanted to do to him while he was being fucking gun down but now that shits uncomfortable.

Stolas said whatever he wanted to Blitzo whenever he wanted and the second he doesn't feel like it, talking like that is breaking a huge boundary. Jump off a bridge.

Where did he get the impression that Blitzo and Striker were friends? Besides the games he never saw them around each other. Gives of the ‘these kids are near each other so they must be best friends’ energy. Like, no, they just met.

"You knew someone was trying to assassinate me?" 🥺 Yeah your wife was screaming about it two feet from your face. If it wasn’t important then, it isn’t important now.

I'll give Stolas the Striker thing and immediately take it away cuz it wasn’t like Stolas sounded afraid or even concerned during the phone call. How tf was Blitzo supposed to know royals could get hurt? Striker only had one angel weapon as far as IMP knew.

"Why would I allow everyone to see how much I like you? How I’ve tried to try so fucking hard to show I like you, to support you."

Fucking when? Where? Name literally one time. That shit at the harvest moon festival doesn't count because if Stolas actually cared he would've paid attention to how uncomfortable Blitzo was with him shouting pet names directly into the microphone. He’d know that him and Striker aren’t friends. Blitzo using the book was an arrangement for sex that Stolas offered. That is not support.

The one and only time their relationship was called out by others Stolas hid his face. Anything after has been in private and not where anyone, not even Blitzo was a witness. Ozzie is the only other person Stolas has openly confessed his feelings for. And he's with his own imp, so of course he isn't going to make a big deal about it.

“That was still the gayest thing I’ve heard all day!” Ignoring the actual line, why is he going feral? Wtf is this scene for? It's so out of place for what’s going on. This is something Loona would do.

“I don’t own you dick.” He’s right tho. Stolas tried to change the relationship without giving Blitzo a heads up or even communicating properly and then got butthurt when he didn’t get the answer he wanted and that was before Blitzo went off on him. And that’s after months of avoiding each other. This talk about changing their arrangement should’ve happen after Ozzie’s. Or at least hinted in Seeing Stars.

Why is the murder family wife getting an apology like she didn't try to kill IMP too ?Why does Blitzo know where she lives. DHORKS shouldn’t get apologies either, kinda ruins the point of Blitzo doing this ‘my name is Earl joke’ if he's apologizing to these people he had the right to hurt. I wonder if Moxxie got an apology.

The party has no music, making it the funniest scene in the series.

I knew they were going to make Veronika the bad one but good lord what is this. Are she and Stella drinking the same crazy juice? That made her Lute levels of crazy.

You're telling me that ALL these people are Blitzo's exes? That insufferable ass? Is he supposed to drop dead gorgeous and the crew didn't tell us?? cuz no way this annoying man can pull that many people.

How did Blitzo get that far into the party and no one, all of which are there because of how much they hate him, didn't notice? Did he sleep with that many people or just date them? Why are any of these people wasting their time like this? Blitzo isn't important, he doesn't do anything. He is another asshole in hell, a place filled with assholes. Wtf is Blitzo's shitty behavior so out of place?

Oh look another situation where Stolas being in a relationship with an imp is not given any levels of importance or notice.

So Tex is just mouthing the words right, cuz no way his voice is just blending in like that. Why is he here?

Did they recast Stolas's singing actor? This song is bland. The singing is okay, but the music might as well not be there.

He's whining about still wanting Blitzo but refuses to speak with him or attempting to get him to have a serious conversation. He has no idea what Blitzo wants and has never asked once.

Stolas is drunk now? He only had a few drinks. In the circus he downed an entire bottle and was fine. Now a few drinks of spiked punch and he's wasted?

They throw this party every year!? You are shitting me. Why? He has signs posted everywhere. His crew is three other people, just kill him if he's that big of a problem.

The creators cannot convince me that all these people care more about Blitzo than the oppressive society they live in, a member of which Stolas is.

Stolas's drunk rant kinda reveals that he wants to be loved and less that he wants to be in a loving relationship with Blitzo specifically. Interesting.

Seconds later Stolas is flustered by some random guy just asking to dance. Interesting.

How does Verosika know about the apology tour? He walked out on her when she said I love you, okay that's bad, but after spending so much of the episode making her look like a crazy ex, it gives off the impression that he dodged a bullet. At the very least Blitzo is actually in the wrong and it isn't some misunderstanding like with Fizz.

Glad they addressed that Blitzo being bad at relationships is a weird thing to focus on but it isn't explained. Unless he is extremely abusive, many people should not care about him / still be angry. These people live in an environment where they can be murdered at any time and almost no one would care / do anything to help. Compared to all that, a shitty boyfriend is kinda nothing.

I’m glad Verosika wasn’t completely shat on during this episode, especially in the last bit. We probably won’t be seeing her again but at least she got to leave with grace.

I like the ending song.

Final thoughts. This episode worked overtime to make Blitzo the bad guy. It pulled maybe 100 people out of nowhere to justify Stolas’s anger and for what? The way he was so quick to hook up with another guy, shows he doesn’t care about Blitzo, he cares about the idea of a good relationship. That’s fine on its own, but the first part of this episode and the end of the last was about Stolas making his shattered pipe dream Blitzo’s problem.

Out of all the episodes that do not have a B plot why is it this one?

#helluva critical #helluva boss #Blitzo #Stolas #verosika mayday #one of mine #helluva boss critical

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packsvlog · 12 hours

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may i have a matchmake perhaps :3

so i’m 5’2 not that that’s important but i think it’s silly. i’m pretty high energy and get excited pretty easily. i love love love naps, like im taking at LEAST one a day. i make jewelry and draw in my free time, kinda hard headed icl, but i try to see ppls povs no matter the situation. ummm i went to cosmetology school for hair :3 IDK WHAT ELSE TO SAY HSSHFKGLP

hi, angel! you seem adorable, i hope you like this, but if there is anything (even the pair) you want to change, please send an ask again, I won’t mind!

✶ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: yuuji and geto.

ps: this are different relationships, not a throuple.

For starters, Itadori Yuuji would be a good match to your whole self, I fully believe (let’s discard his taste for tall women, tho.) he would be mesmerized and able to match your freak energy spikes.

Like let’s say you decide to wake up at three am to bake some pancakes, wether your know or not how to, you feel the strong need and capability to do so. Yuuji wakes up the moment he feel your warm missing from the bed, he groggily goes behind, not noticing the scent of cinnamon and fried or burned pancakes, and he just sits down on the dining table and keeps you company with random talk, slowly his sleep goes away and he follows your lead — you soon learn he can be a terrible baker. But, oh well, now you have dozens of pancakes and a huge hungry boyfriend to help eating them, burned or not.

You love your naps, Yuuji loves movies. Any other person would be annoyed that you use every spare moment to sleep, but the boy loves that he can see anything with his little angel company using him as a pillow — is his badge of honor. In daily situations, any spare moment you have you go to sleep, even if Yuuji is over, your boyfriend keeps doing his own things, at first…Because, once, he admired how cute and comfortable you were sleeping with dozens of pillows and a fluffy blanket, the sky was pouring and suddenly, Yuuji yawned. He scooped you over in his arms and started to cuddle you only to fall asleep later. So now, if he feels like it or he catches you drooling during a movie, chances are he is going to rest his head on yours and sleep as well.

Itadori would never impose his hobbies and mannerisms on you, but he is a chameleon boyfriend, your hobbies are also his hobbies. So when he noticed your very unique jewelry, and you mentioning that you are the one that does them, he was wonderstruck by your talent and begged for you to make him some or teach him! Whatever you gift for Itadori, which consists mostly of bracelets and a special necklace, he wears happily. Waving them in front of anyone, just for them to ask about it and he proudly says his partner made.

Some date nights consist of you two just hanging out in your bedroom, making matching jewelry.

When you first told Yuuji that you went to cosmetology school, his first reaction was to say “That’s awesome! Like Frenchie, from Grease, right?”, his second reaction was to ask to become your lab rat. This man trusts you with anything, that’s a fact, and it does not hurt him that his partner can take care of him so well.

So yeah, I’m sorry sweetie, but this boy is begging for skin care treatment every saturday, colorful masks on your faces while you both watch movies and sip beverages from cute straws with matching pajamas.

Although, I think his favorite thing is the hair care part — Yuuji is very know for his pink hair, you love it lots and lots, and so does he, but my god isn’t change the most amazing thing ever? At first, you refused to do anything to his hair, until he begged you for a buzz cut and weeks later to dye the black parts pink and more two weeks, draw some strawberries on the top. Since then, sometimes, when you two are bored and his hair has been growing for some time, Yuuji and you come up with a new art for him, always at the palete of pink — but Yuuji secretly hopes one day you’ll let him dye it white or blue.

In summary, your relationship can be categorized as: your loving boyfriend who adorably thinks you are the most talented person in this world. For Yuuji, there is no one like you, and he is tremendously proud to call you his.

────〃✿ FUN FACTS.

◛ ₊· Sukuna is not mentioned because Yuuji does not let him come out when you are near, he gets more willpower if you are in proximity, but if he has to swallow any finger, he does not do with you on the school grounds.

◛ ₊· When Yuuji first met you, he revalued his whole tall girl taste, is not that he started to like short people, he just liked you.

◛ ₊· Yuuji is a nickname person, yours are princess/prince, angel and when he wants to do his hair, frenchie. But he doesn’t mind any nickname for him, call him baby or Yuujiiii, he melts right away.

◛ ₊· Yuuji special necklace made by you is a locket that contains a photo of the two of you on your first date as an official couple. He plans on showing and giving to your kids one day.

──── ✿ ──── ✿ ──── ✿ ────

Your second match is Geto Suguru, also know as energetic people trainer — you and Gojo his most prominent works.

With you, though, he obviously has a soft spot. Basically, is a little secret of his, but if Geto gets a chance to make you become bouncy and happy and talk his ear off about anything, he will do. Suguru wants to be your go to person to be yourself with those spikes of energy, cute right?

So let’s say you have been into a new book, you’re only reading the first one of the incomplete series and you are hooked already. Every chance you have, there you are, talking about it with Geto even if he has no idea what’s going on, he listens because it’s you — Suguru loves your voice. You explain the plot and the theories you have read on tumblr, you even give him spoilers (he doesn’t mind).

“So,” Geto asks when you stop rambling. “when are you reading the next one?”

You answer right away that the second book is taking a long time to be released, you reached the author via email at two in the morning once, asking about it, and he was rude.

Your boyfriend did not liked that, so he did his boyfriends duties — a week later, the trembling author appears on their social media giving the date of the book release, but you don’t have to worry about that, your boyfriend already got you one, with a beautiful designed cover for you and his dedication of love on the first page.

As a way to forever thank him, you spoil your boyfriend with a large amount of earrings and one ring. If Geto could, he would wear all of them at once but since he has only two piercings, he asks you to pierce some more. Whenever he has his hair up, his ears are shinning with intricate jewelry. In his hand, though, is the most detailed ring matching one of your own. He loves it, is a secret plan he has with himself to one day change it for a engagement one, but he would still wear this made by you everyday.

When you first met Geto, his hair was down and dried, like he washed it with dish soap. When the two of you started going out, not yet a couple, you grabbed his hand and brought him to your bathroom, using your expensive’s hair care product, bringing shine and silk texture to his long locks.

It was a pretty good looking mistake, honey. The man learned that day how much he loves his hair, and since he is not bothered enough to go buy his own shampoo and conditioner, yours is going to end a lot quicker. You get upset, and mad, and he laughs sweetly before presenting you with a large basket with many other products, some even better than the ones you have.

It’s not for only you, unfortunately, Geto loves the feeling of your hands on his scalp.

Geto also loves your hands on his when you randomly get energy to paint his nails. You don’t notice how automatic it is for you to caress his knuckles and hold him so dearly, it makes him feel so loved, this little care you have for him. He is adamant that his nails is always black, but if you pout long enough, and it’s the weekend, you can choose any color you want. By sunday he will be removing and asking for his black back.

Suguru and yours relationship is the one where he does anything for you, he enable your tastes, folds backwards if you ask. This man has no one else he loves more dearly. Sure, he can be a lot from time to time, but you wouldn’t have any other way, and neither does he.

────〃✿ FUN FACTS.

◛ ₊· When Geto asked you out, you told him you thought he was already in a relationship. He assumed you meant with Shoko, and while he was explaining it to you, you told him you thought it was with Gojo — he was disgusted.

◛ ₊· Gojo and you are good friends, he also shares your energetic nature, and that’s a nightmare for your boyfriend. He can handle you, he loves you! But Gojo and you together deciding to do a run for every store in tokyo to shopping from 8am till 8pm? Nah, he can’t handle it.

◛ ₊· It is a pretty common sight to have Geto grabbing your jacket or shirt to move you away from Gojo when it becomes too much.

◛ ₊· Once, he forgot to remove his pink nail polish with intricate girly drawings you made — principal Yaga was the one to notice.

◛ ₊· You are the only person allowed to touch his hair. Once you were obsessed with Hunger Games, and both of you watched all the movies with matching braids.

◛ ₊· As any other guy that loves to annoy their partners, Suguru uses your head as an arm rest, he loves it. If Gojo does the same, he beats his friend.

#❛ 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐊 ⠀⠀ﾉ⠀ ♡#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen yuuji #jujutsu kaisen geto #suguru geto x reader #itadori yuji x reader #geto x reader #yuji x reader

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raysmayday · 1 day

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Ok ok but a fallen stars au, where instead of just switching the two parties where shattered dream just goes around doing what nightmare does

you have a nightmare going around and spreading positivity by forcibly changing negative aus scripts and s!dream going around and stopping him

I imagine passive would still be the guardian of negativity in this au (am?)but because of dream also functioning as a negativity guardian he would be forced into the position of guardian of positivity to keep the balance sense he can’t physically do this job (he’s literally not able to) he goes to the extreme method of going into negative aus and forcing them to become positive (by what means is up to you)

And dream who has basically been driven mad by corruption sees this as a personal attack on him (it’s not poor passive is just trying to maintain balance) tries to stop him

Now I don’t really know exactly what would happen with blue here but I’m leaning towards blueberrer where the original blue tried to help rehabilitate shattered (and maybe ink) and this ended..poorly to say the least and in the end he gets stuck in the antivoid

Now ink is where this really gets interesting. because the fact that passive is the one who is changing the scripts au gives us the opportunity to use his canonical morality . Now for those of you that do not know inks canonical reason for defending aus is not out of a love for the people in it or empathy for them. But because nightmare and error are interrupting/changing their scripts now with this information, it is not hard to say that economical version of ink or at least a very close canonical version of ink in the scenario Would side with shattered and blueberror this could be an especially interesting dynamic, if inks not even evil in this AU.in a similar way of how he’s morally gray in cannon and he and is only siding with the people that we consider the good guys because it furthers along his own goals we could have a reverse situation of that here.

Especially if error still exists, and he is both preventing a AUs from being saved and saving them at the exact same time!

((I won’t divulge the post to much. but this could be used to actually take a look at inks, sort of blue and orange type of morality in a way that isn’tjust essentially pointing at an ink and saying “look neurodivergent person bad”. Because Like he’s not like technically wrong about his beliefs, like yeah, from the perspective of someone who lives in that universe he’s wrong, but from the standpoint of someone outside of that universe, a.k.a. us he’s actually the closest thing to correct about the function of their universe then anyone else! and sure, is only helping people that are getting hurt because of others changing the script fucked yes!is stopping people from helping them if their pain is in the script also fucked ,yes! But from the perspective that nothing in your world is a real and that the closest thing you can get to actual real interaction is with these gods(us) who you can only assume would want their creations to to follow the storylines that they set it’s not that weird that you’re gonna try to enforce that ! is he wrong by thinking that we want that … yeah. but is it that shocking that he came to that conclusion ….. no .))

#ink sans #ink #undertale #au #undertale au #utmv #the fallen star au #fallen star #shattered dream #passive nightmare sans #blueberror

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thetorturedbuckydepartment · 1 day

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chapter seven: looming on the horizon

pairing: Bucky barnes x plus-sized!reader

summary: Six months ago, you were appointed to be Head Nurse to the Avengers by Tony Stark. Every day, you count your lucky stars, knowing the horrible past you quickly ditched back in England. It holds you back, restrains you, from getting close to anyone when on your new job.

That's until you met and fell in love with Bucky Barnes. The supposed assassin with a heart of gold, who seems to be eager to get to know you. To peel back your layers piece by piece, but could you trust him once you're laid before him raw and vulnerable?

masterlist

PREVIOUS PART -- CHAPTER SIX: I THINK HE KNOWS

warnings: language, mentions of Bucky’s past (very brief), mentions of potential DV (not explained), mild angst

word count: 2.3k

Taglist: @scott-loki-barnes @cjand10 @blackwidownat2814 @blackbirdwitch22 @laughterafter @blackhawkfanatic @mcira @bxckybxrnes24 @rachellovesloki @toffeacademia @bean-bean2000 @lana525 @selella

A/N: hope u guys like it so far!! and it's just the calm before the mild storm in the next chapter, so be prepared for emotional turmoil! pls like / comment / reblog if you are enjoying the story or if you want to be added to the taglist!!

It was the best way to wake up on one of the coldest nights of the year — wrapped up so sweetly in Bucky’s arms tight around you, murmuring your name every so often in his sleep, and your legs entangled in the most intimate way. Or maybe he’s awake and is doing it for the hell of it — for the love of your name on his tongue.

It is nothing short of magical — especially after the confessions he made to you last night about not fucking Sharon. About how he finds you prettier. It makes your head spin with something a lot lighter, and less bitter than alcohol. It makes you glow.

The sleepy smile on your face quickly drops when the sharp dagger of morning regret pierces your skull, and suddenly everything is too bright and loud. You rest your forehead against Bucky’s chest, the steady beat of his heart working to soothe you, and to drown out any other noises that make you wince.

“You awake already, doll?” And oh, you missed this. The night where Bucky was drunk and you had slept together, the thing you missed the most was the morning after. His sleep-fogged voice and his lazy limbs, pulling you in tighter. As he is now.

“You can sleep in a bit more, we still have a couple hours before Fury wants us in a meeting. I’ll be right here, promise.” His grip on you tightens, and you try and muster a single sentence that isn’t tinged with pain.

“My head hurts, Buck.” You whine and pout like a little child, even though he can’t see you. And it’s a shame you miss the most dopey grin on his face in the process — so content with the new development in matters of his heart that all he wants to do is spend the day away with you. Exactly like this, all wrapped up in each other, cosy and warm. He feels like he’s died and gone to heaven, to be able to hold your soft and warm body to his in this way.

“You did have an awful lot to drink last night, love.” The nickname sets your cheeks on fire, and you hug him tighter to you, arm secure around his back, and you begin to stroke up and down with the very tips of your fingers. He shudders against you, and you just think he’s cold.

“Mmhmm. Oh well, it was nice while it lasted.” You can’t believe that that’s what it took to end up like this with him again.

“I missed you.” He presses a kiss to the top of your hair, and you feel your heart speed up, beating so hard it reverberates around your throat and adds to your headache.

“Me? When?” You snuggle further into his grip, even though it’s beginning to burn with the heat generated between the both of you.

“Always. When I’m sparring, when I’m teaching fuckass trainees how to not get themselves killed on missions. But I missed sleeping with you, like this. The last time we did, it was probably the first time in ages I’ve slept properly. You’re so comforting…I missed that.”

You grin, even though he can’t see it. “Me too. I— I think it’s the first time I’ve felt so safe sleeping next to someone else. I just wasn’t sure how to ask to do it again, you know…all things considering.”

“Yeah? You wanna do this again?” He asks, silently begging you to say yes. He remembers when he would pray for times like this, to be held and feel something that wasn’t abuse or pain. And he will pray again, on his hands and knees, just to hold you like this for five minutes more.

“Yes. I would love to.” He smiles, his heart too beating hard at your remittence to him. He kisses your head again.

“Since you’re up, you wanna go have breakfast? I can make us pancakes.” You shake your head.

“No, no. You’ve done enough, let me do something for you, for once.” You begin to move away, but he pulls you right back.

“You think you can handle it with your headache, baby? That’s cute, but just sit back and let me do this for you, please? You already do more than enough for me, by making me happy. Now, we’ll get up in five minutes, okay? Just five more.” You can’t resist, giving in. Especially after feeling the chill in your room.

“Mm, just five.”

Five minutes turns into an hour. Which turns into two. And then you really have to get up, and he leaves you like it kills him. He returns with some medicines for your head and a glass of water, and you take them willingly, letting your hands brush. He sits next to you, and you talk some more. He carefully detangles your hair as best as he can, and you let him.

He probably doesn’t know how big a deal this is for you. Part of the reason you left England behind is to do with it. Well, not exactly. But your ex-boyfriend just loved pulling on your hair too much. When he was angry, when he was horny.

You’ve never let anyone touch it since. Bucky knows this, and ever the gentleman, he asks. He always asks you, what you want. How could you not fall for him?

And then, while swallowing bitter white tablets with fingers carding through your hair, you realise you’re falling in love with him. And it scares you.

And then you smile, wider than you ever have before.

————————

Bucky can’t let go of you. He holds onto you tight, arm around your shoulders without a care in the world for who sees. What they say.

Because when you smiled at him so sweetly, and let him run his hands through your soft, perfect hair, it sealed the deal. When you laid with him for hours after promising a few minutes, he knew it. He felt it, in his bones, in his heart.

He’s in love with you.

Desperately.

Madly.

And it’s a beautiful feeling, regardless of if you feel the same or not.

You sit next to each other in the meeting room, as always. And just like clockwork, Fury looks angry, Steve determined. The rest of you, incredibly confused.

Tony stands at the head of the table, and all eyes turn to him and you slip your hand out of Bucky’s not wanting to get caught. You weren’t doing anything wrong, but for someone to see and assume the wrong things, the painful things, will only break your heart worse.

Bucky is perfect, he’s everything you want…in the body of a man you can’t have.

You might be falling in love, but it’s one-sided, you’re certain.

“Alright, now what I’m about to say doesn’t leave this room. Understood?” Everyone nods solemnly.

“We’ve just got intel that HYDRA are setting up a base here, in the old estate of the Russian millionaire, Anastasia Antonov.”

“The CEO of BloodRush Tech,” Nat informs from your other side, leaning in with interest. BloodRush Tech works in conjoinment with the government to create the most up-to-date technology to aid in hospitals and the military. Her involvement…would put the entire nation at risk. You gasp next to her, knowing the grave threat that must be prevented.

“Right now, she’s vacationing in Bali while ex-HYDRA agents move into the green fields and set up a base. We’re not sure exactly what they’re planning to do, as of yet, but we suspect that this will be the first of several covert locations across the state and country, operating much like sleeper cells,” Steve continues from the other side of the table, and your heart drops. You quickly glance back at Bucky and grab his hand again, sandwiching it between both of yours. It happens to be his vibranium one, but you stroke it in soothing motions nonetheless, knowing that even the mention of the certain organisation’s name puts him on edge. He leans into your touch, marvelling in how you’re quick to comfort him. In all of your months being here, this is probably the biggest threat you’ve seen. He’s wondered why you’re not more stressed, or scared.

“So what’s the mission, Tony?” Bucky asks, being extra polite even though there is a rivalry there. You’ve never asked what it is, and he’s never offered the information by himself. You choose not to push it, not knowing what invisible landmines you might step on.

“The estate is recently purchased, and Anastasia’s link is still dubious. Knowing HYDRA, there’s no chance it’s just a simple transaction, so we’ll be running surveillance on her. The main mission is to infiltrate the Antonov Czech Estate, get all the data they may have and get out. It’s a simple extraction, shouldn’t take more than a few hours. Sharon’s done some espionage for us, and she’s reported that there’s currently only around 6 agents on site.”

“I’ll go.” Bucky says, steely eyes determined. He’s never looked more beautiful in this moment, his heart of gold shining through. You worry, though. Should he be allowed to go? You don’t know the extent of his rehabilitation in Wakanda, if the Winter Soldier is still in there, somewhere. He’s told you, through tears and heavy breaths, how he’s scared the Winter Soldier can still take over, regardless of all the triggers being removed. Going into a place crawling with people who can essentially turn Bucky, the Bucky you know and love, off.

You decide to voice your concerns later, in private. You rub your hands against him, silently reassuring him. “You sure? The original plan was Steve and Nat go in, and Nurse tags along with her crew for damage control.” Even as Tony speaks, you and Bucky look at each other, blue eyes staring into yours, silently communicating.

Are you sure you want to go? Your eyebrows twitch at him.

Positive. I can handle it.

I’ll be there too, if it helps.

He flashes you a quick smile, in acceptance of your reassurance, before returning to the conversation. “I can go, Stark. There’s nobody who would know HYDRA better.” You catch the stutter in his voice, and grip him even tighter. “No offence, Steve,” he quips.

Steve breaks his professional character for a split second, offering Bucky a small smile back. Bucky revels in it, feeling like he’s finally getting back all of the pieces of him he’s lost to time and cruelty. His heart, given to you and you only. His sense of camaraderie, provided by the others in this room.

“Yeah, sure. I trust him, we can work together. Plus, Nurse is going. He’ll definitely be fine.” Nat flashes you a smirk, which you try to ignore. Everyone turns to look at you, and the shame creeps up your neck in a hot tendril at all of the eyes on you.

“Um, Mr Stark, I actually had a question about that.” You swallow, your voice coming out more meek than you intend. You’re facing away from Bucky, but you can feel his arm wind itself around you, reassuring you and granting you the courage to speak louder.

Tony smiles, still taken aback at your polite manner in a room full of crass brutes. “Nurse, you can just call me Tony. Go ahead, sweetheart.”

You sit up a little straighter, forcing confidence into your tone, even as you feel Sharon glare at you. Why is she doing that? Is she jealous that you’re being so touchy with Bucky? Why would she be, though? You may be staring at him with hearts in your eyes, but he looks at you with platonic fondness. Nothing more, you remind yourself.

You deal with the matter at hand.

“Um, who else is going on the mission? I just need to know in terms of numbers, because I’ll need to take the same number of nurses, and two surplus just so we have all the hands we could ever need on deck. And then I’d have to work out a schedule for the infirmary here, so…” Tony considers your question deeply, fingers tapping his chin in thought.

“Hmm…So for now we have Nat and Bucky. Then we’ll have two SHIELD ops to do surveillance. That’s pretty much it, seeing as it’s a covert mission.”

“Okay. I’ll be taking five nurses alongside myself, if that’s alright.”

“Sorry,” Steve cuts in. “We can only afford you and two more, dear. Otherwise, we risk exposing ourselves.” Your heart is beating out of your chest, can you do this?

You glance back at Bucky, the one person who is guaranteed to reassure you in your abundant moments of self-doubt. And you take a deep breath.

“Yeah, that’s fine. I can make it work.” You just need to make sure you’ve had a good night’s sleep, eaten well, and are wearing the comfiest pair of shoes. Just in case.

“Great. We go Wheels up at 0300, in 12 hours.” As everyone begins filing out, you look at Bucky once again.

“We can do this,” you reassure the both of you, putting on a brave face. Your heart is going crazy, knowing the consequences of a poorly gone mission, not just for you and Bucky, or for the people in this compound. The entire nation rides on you, on your ability to carry out this mission and save everyone. But you'll think about that if things go south.

“We can do this. And, can I speak to you after the mission? There's something I want to talk about." He searches your eyes for any sign of panic he should quell. He finds none. He's made up his mind -- he'll tell you. Because looking into your opal eyes is like looking in a mirror, and he can't let the opportunity of a lifetime of a chance with you pass him by. You, not knowing any of this, nod. Ever curious, ever anxious.

But you’ll make sure Bucky comes out of this alive. Even if it kills you.

NEXT PART

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x plus size reader #bucky barnes x reader #x plus size reader #marvel

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wordsofelie · 2 days

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Chapter 1

🔥Phoenix and Ashes

Suna Rintarou x f!reader

Summary: “It’s funny how nobody believed that we could make it work.” - “Well-maybe they were right.”

Meeting Suna Rintarou wasn’t part of your plan. Dating him, either. Getting your heart smashed into the palms of his hand, even less.

Content Warnings: High School Setting, Fluff, Mention of an Original Character

Words count: 2.5k

When you met Suna Rintarou, you did not pay attention to him.

It is during the entrance ceremony of the first years at Inarizaki High. Springs in Hyogo are known to be magnificent. You like flowers, and the cherry blossoms outside the school gate catch your attention. The colours of the petals are a subtle shade between white and pink. As you step back to admire them, you accidentally bump into him. You apologize, but he simply brushes it off. "Just a polite guy," you think dismissively.

You start hanging out with one Chihara Umi. At first, you find the girl way too energetic and enthusiastic for your taste. But she is your seatmate after all, so why not get along? (And a little shot of sunlight never hurts anyone). So you become a duo, as your classmates like to call you. One day, Umi drags you to the volleyball gymnasium. Not wanting to interrupt the practice you wait outside (and to be fully honest, you do not really care about teenage boys smashing blue and yellow balls).

That's when Suna walks past you and greets you with a simple "hi." You respond automatically while listening to Umi grumble about how Atsumu (the blond twin, you suppose) needs to return her English textbook.

"Samu has it, it's not my fault! Stop yellin’!"

"Oi! Why are ya blamin’ me, ya bastard?" (Osamu - the one with grey hair).

You sneak a quick glance at Suna. It’s good you have a perfect vision because if not, you wouldn’t have seen that faint smirk on his lips. That makes you want to smile too; the brothers' interactions are indeed entertaining to watch.

“The Miya brothers are my neighbours,” Umi explains to you after that. “They can be a pain in the ass sometimes. Especially Atsumu.”

You aren’t interested in romance, but you surely see the pink blush on your friend’s cheeks.

“Suna-kun greeted you earlier, right? Do you know him?”

“Nah, not really. I bumped into him at the entrance ceremony. That’s it.”

“That could be the start of a cute romance movie.”

You cringe at the thought; you never like those kinds of stories.

Apparently, being neighbours with the Miyas comes with the great responsibility of attending every single one of their matches. “It’s just a practice match, Umi. Do I really need to come with you?” “Yes, you know if we don’t come Atsumu will be upset again.” (A pain in the ass, really?)

That’s how you get used to spending your Saturday afternoons at Inarizaki’s gym (as if going to school five days out of seven isn’t already enough). You usually take your notebooks with you and work on your assignments. At least it is a bit (or a lot) more lively than your bedroom.

You and Suna exchange greetings, but your conversations do not go any further.

As you get to know the rest of the volleyball team, you still don't pay much attention to him. Sure, he is handsome (but so is Miya Atsumu), and smart (but not as much as Kita Shinsuke), and even strong (though Ojiro Aran is stronger). To you, he is just an ordinary guy - nothing more. But the thing is, so are you. You have grown up in a typical middle-class family in Amagasaki, in a not-so-big though not-too-little house, you are an only child. You never lacked anything; your parents are fair with you. Not showing too much affection, but not neglecting you either. Your grades aren’t the greatest, but they aren’t too bad. There is nothing you are passionate about, and you are fine with it.

So when you met him, you thought that perhaps, he is just like you. Normal. Average. Unremarkable.

But the weeks pass and Suna Rintarou appears in all places - a shared table during lunchtime, the library where you study, and even the local cafe you frequent. Each time, his presence seems almost deliberate, as if he is seeking you out without ever saying a word (deep down, you wish it was deliberate).

And as the volleyball season progresses, you can't ignore Suna Rintarou's presence on the court anymore. His precise blocks command attention, drawing your gaze whenever he is in action. Slowly, you begin to notice the subtle nuances of his movements.

“Suna-san's floating serve has gotten better these days.”

“Has it?” Umi frowns her eyebrows to concentrate on the middle blocker, “I haven’t realised. Atsumu’s set is still too fast though, I told him he needs to work on his timing but he doesn’t listen to me.”

You find yourself watching him during practices and games. And one day, during a practice match against a formidable opponent, you see him unleash a new move that leaves everyone, including their coach, in awe. It is then that you realise there is nothing average about Suna Rintarou; he is a hidden gem waiting to be discovered. He has become remarkable.

You congratulate him after the match, and he thanks you. The conversation could stop here - it usually does, but he mentions your good rankings during the last midterms. “It was nothing,” you respond. “Being in the top 15 is nothing?”

You want to add that it is the minimal requirement your parents have asked of you, but you do not.

“What about you, Suna-san? Were the midterms okay?”

“Ew, mostly yes, but I failed bio.”

“I can help you if you want.” you propose genuinely. You do not dislike the idea of spending more time with him.

“I don’t want to bother you.”

“It’s fine, I wouldn’t ask if it was a burden.”

And so you exchange numbers.

It is just a number, but when you come home, you can’t take your eyes off it. Suna Rintarou. Such a pretty name, you think.

You start texting regularly. Your conversations are mainly about school at first, but then he starts sending pictures of the twins. Slowly you discover many sides of him.

Suna is funny. By messages, he has that talent for making you laugh with just a few words. “Did you really say that to that girl?” you don’t believe him when he tells you one of the many punchlines he has given to a twins’ secret admirer who had asked him to deliver some letters to them.

“I sure did.”

“That’s pretty harsh, Suna-san.”

“But that was funny. I know you want to laugh rn.”

You prefer not to answer to that because you have to either lie to him (and you are a very bad liar) or you would have to admit that it is indeed funny and Suna wouldn’t stop bragging about how easy it is to amuse you.

You also enjoy reading his texts about one of the many plans he and Osamu have put in place to prank Atsumu. The two of them form a rather chaotic and creative duo, you think.

But he is also serious. For school as well as for volleyball. He does not seem like it, but when you sit next to him at the library and revise the mistakes he has made in his last physics test, he listens to you with some attention (one you have never received before, ever). You notice how his lips are pursed and how his eyebrow furrows - as if it helps him focus. When something does not make sense to him, he looks at you in confusion. In those moments, you think he looks like a child and you enjoy that naivety coming from him - who is usually so composed. You secretly hope you are the only one to know ‘confused Suna’ because you find it too cute to share. His notes are clean and his handwriting neat. So you conclude that this not-so-caring about his grades guy actually cares about school.

When it comes to volleyball, there are two sides of him. One that executes his coach’s orders without much desire (compared to Atsumu and Osamu at least). And the other one who gives his best every time one Kita Shinsuke (captain-to-be, you hope) observes him. Suna never gives any importance to the traditional respect for his senpai, they are just upper classmates, no need to be formal, but you can’t help but notice how that does not apply to Kita. The latter appears to you as a blunt, almost cold boy who is nothing like a regular teenager. But somehow he has that incredible influence over his teammates that never fails to make them improve - as athletes as well as human beings. And so when Suna gets better (which he does amazingly, you think), the way his emerald eyes search for Kita’s validation and find a certain relief - or pride - when the older one nods in return, always manages to make you smile.

And he can be quite a flirt (even though it takes you way too long to realise that because why would Suna Rintarou flirt with you? You ask yourself). A succession of messages leads him to ask you on a date on a random afternoon and you agree to it.

”It’s not a date and don’t be so loud!” you have to argue with Umi when she almost spills her orange juice at your face in the middle of the hallway when you announce you can’t accompany her to the theatre on this Saturday because you have promised Suna that you will go to the planetarium with him.

“Oh c’mon, just the two of you? At a planetarium? This is how every love story starts, dummy.”

You try to make a face of disgust (hoping this will hide your joy). “He has a physics test next week, that’s probably why he wants to go there. Don’t make a big deal of it. And you’re so obsessed with love stories, this is almost worrying.”

“I’m not obsessed.” She tries to fight back. “Anyway, I can’t believe you’re betraying our rituals for some dude. What am I going to do without you?”

“Go with Atsumu.”

She clicks her tongue. “As if he had enough concentration to watch a two-hour-long movie. You know what?” Her eyes immediately start to shine and you know she’s about to mention her infamous neighbour, “Yesterday I tried to help him with his maths assignment. Actually, I told him about you and Suna-kun meeting every Wednesday to study and thought why not do that too? But gods have mercy, that stupid airhead wouldn’t let me explain one concept without comparing everything to volleyball or looking at his phone. Argh.”

You smile at that and think she is going for another long monologue about how Atsumu’s gets on her nerves but can also have a sweet side and so on and so on - which you love if you have to be honest because that is how your best friend is; passionate, whole, full of life (the complete opposite of you). But instead, she puts both hands on your shoulders and makes you face her.

“Sorry, we were talking about your date with Suna-kun.”

“It’s not-it’s not a date.” You have almost forgotten about that and the mention of the “d word” is enough to make your corporal temperature increase which manifestes in the sudden redness of your ears and cheeks (and probably your whole face).

“Whatcha talkin’ about?” Atsumu asks, appearing from behind you alongside Gin. You scan the surroundings with eagerness, making sure the subject of your conversation isn’t around. It doesn’t take you long to realise you’re in safe territory, Suna was easy to spot (at least to you). You would recognise him in any crowd, any storm. You would feel him miles away even separated by seas and continents. You would see him coming like spring comes after winter making snow melts and flowers bloom on his path.

“None of your business Tsumu.” Umi answers with much confidence which makes the boy smirk in return.

“What are you doing this Saturday?”

Atsumu’s is left in a state of bewilderment. You two never talked much, he even wonders if he knows the sound of your voice, so you asking him such a question almost seems like a trap. But his condescending self comes back pretty fast.

“You askin’ me on a date?”

You sneer and turn to Umi, “he really is full of himself.”

“Is that whatcha sayin’ about me Umi?” his voice reaches a high-pitched sound that makes you want to burst into laughter. How can the talented first-year-setter of the Inarizaki volleyball team get offended by such a comment?

“She’s obviously not asking you on a date stupid Tsumu, she wouldn’t lower her standards this much to start with.” Atsumu is about to respond but Umi doesn’t let him, “she just happens to be hm- busy this weekend.” With your best friend, she wants to add, but that would make you furious and the girl hasn’t planned to die so young. “And I don’t have anyone else to go to the cinema with so, maybe, you can come. But that’s for your own sake ‘cause you sure lack some cinematographical knowledge.”

“And you sure lack friends, smartass.”

Ginjima, who you just realise is still there, giggles. You want to interfere and pull the dyed-blonde hair of his and make him apologize, but you’re not the violent kind and Umi is usually smarter than you when it comes to teasing. But to your surprise, your friend is at loss for words and is unable to come up with a full sentence, “I-what-You…”

“Will it be the romance auteur film that you like so much?”

“Yes, but forget it, I will go on my-”

Umi is about to leave, you think you catch her eyes getting wet but Atsumu grabs her wrist. The resentment you’re starting to feel for that guy is growing even stronger with each second passing.

“I’m coming. What time?”

Umi’s gaze hardens and she lets go of his grip. “Stop making fun of me.”

The conversation is shortened by her leaving and you’re instinctively about to follow her but the setter calls your name.

“I wasn’t makin’ fun of her.”

You only know Miya Atsumu through Umi’s tales and Suna’s daily pictures. You’ve seen him play from afar but he was always at an arm’s length from you. And that first - and very quick - interaction with him did not make you want to know more. However, there’s a softness in his eyes. Guilt? Concern, perhaps? - you were never really good at guessing people’s feelings - that makes you want to take his side. So you sigh and decide to trust him.

“The film starts at 11 a.m. Saturday. Don’t be late.”

You think you hear him say thank you but you’re already gone to look for your friend.

Once you find Umi, on a bench, somewhere close to the baseball field - the two of you usually have lunch there - you’re not sure how to initiate the conversation. But you don’t even have the time to open your mouth, your friend pulls the rug out from under you.

“He’s always like that. Don’t mind him.”

She has always been better with words than you.

“Are you okay?”

You see her dry a tear from her eye in a quick move, almost ashamed of it.

“Totally okay.” She turns to you and smiles. You know that smile, it is not the one you like so much, full of light as if made by the sun itself. Your worried expression makes her take your hands in hers.

“One hundred per cent okay. No. Two thousand power squared seventy million per cent okay.”

The last comment makes you chuckle softly and you lay in her touch, “You’re such a math nerd.”

“And you’re such a physics nerd, going to the planetarium for your first-ever date.”

“It’s not a date.” You both say in unison - you, convinced, her, wryly.

You decide not to argue more with Chihara Umi, for you are no match to her stubbornness. You both watch the baseball team get the field prepared for their practice. It’s almost past sundown and you find a certain beauty in the brightness of the orange sky. You think it looks like it’s burning. And so is your heart. Slowly. But fiercly. At that time, you weren’t sure how to name this feeling, but one thing is obvious, as you watch the sun starting a fire to let the moon shine, you are thinking about him.

Suna Rintarou.

The unremarkable, average boy who turned out to be anything but that.

And it seems your friend is also thinking about him as she takes you right out of your thoughts by abruptly asking: “So, what are you going to wear for your date?”

author notes: hey! please feel free to tell me what you think :) this story will contain around 9 chapters and I’ll try to upload a new chapter very friday! lots of love

Elie

#haikyuu #haikyuu fanfiction #suna rintaro haikyuu #suna rintaro x you #suna rintaro x y/n #suna rintarou angst #suna rintarō #suna rintarou

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poppitron360 · 2 days

Text

I know that I have to, at some point, post my Leo Villain Arc AU.

Currently I am in a perpetual state of “Lemme just proofread it one more time-“ But if I don’t post it now, it will never get posted. I’ve been working on this off and on for about a month.

Summary: Takes place after the events of TLH- Leo deals with the aftermath of revealing his powers to the camp. In a confrontation with a few other campers, he finally lashes out and they get a little more than their comeuppance. Frightened by his own abilities, Leo runs away from camp, and Jason and Piper have to find him and stop him before he hurts anyone else- by any means necessary. When the time comes, Jason can’t bring himself to hurt Leo, and he pays the price. Piper has to then finish the job.

Please ignore any plotholes- I wrote it for the angst not the story.

Cw: Talk of suicide, talk of abuse, depictions of self-harm, major character death, blood, swearing, bullying, just all-round nasty stuff- I didn’t hold back on this one.

Word Count: 8,043!!! (Eight chapters in total, but not of equal length)

Who’s Afraid Of Little Old Me?

Leo has a villain arc AU (Dark! Leo)

I- Leo

Leo was avoiding people.

Okay, so he wasn’t avoiding all people. Jason ate lunch with him on the stands of the Chariot Tracks as they looked out across the springtime trees beyond. No. He was avoiding the other campers. He couldn’t deal with the weird looks they gave him when he ate at the dining pavilion. It had taken a lot of courage to reveal his powers to the others in Cabin 9, his siblings had been mostly cool with it, if a little weirded-out, but the other campers had been less accepting. Nobody had said anything to him yet, but he knew they were all thinking it. He was a freak.

“So, Piper’s been putting her hair up more as the weather’s getting hotter,” Jason said. Leo was only half-listening, but he nodded between bites of his burrito. He appreciated Jason’s company, and he understood that Piper was a big part of his life, but the constant girlfriend talk made him nauseous. Still, it was better than talking about monsters or Gaia or the impending Apocalypse.

Jason faltered, and the conversation stopped when Leo heard the familiar drooling voice and signature vocal fry of Drew Tanaka and two of her cronies. Leo hated that girl. She was less of a threat now that Piper had taken control of the Aphrodite cabin, but she was still a bitter and sneering bitch. Piper had been too nice. If Leo had his way, he would’ve taken a leaf out of the Heathers book and just put Drain Cleaner in Drew’s Hangover Cure.

Jason scowled at Drew as she walked out onto the course. Leo tried his best to shrink behind the terraced seating in front of them, hoping she hadn’t noticed him. But of course, she had. Her two minions sneered at him, baring their perfectly white teeth.

“Well, well, well,” Drew drooled, placing a manicured hand on the railing and advancing up the steps of the bleachers. Her cronies flanked her, one on each side, like an attack formation, “If it isn’t the arsonist.”

Leo’s stomach dropped. Jason snarled in his terrifying raised-by-wolves way. Drew’s friends snickered, but Drew kept her eyes locked on Leo.

“Why aren’t you eating lunch with the rest of the camp, huh? Is it because you know nobody wants you there? Even your dirty little siblings know you’re a freak. I mean, I thought I’d seen the worst of those filthy little Hephaestus kids, but this…” she looked down at him with her piercing eyes, “this is a new low.”

Leo scrambled out of his seat. Drew smirked, like his anger was amusing. Maybe it was, considering how he was at least two inches shorter than her. She backed away, slowly but confidently, as Leo advanced.

“Face it, freak,” She said, “You belong in Tartarus with all the other monsters.”

Leo’s hands balled up into fists. Jason tried to grab his wrist, but then yelped in pain and pulled back. Leo’s skin glowed white hot.

“Leo, stop it,” Jason pleaded, “Don’t listen to her, she’s trying to provoke you.”

Drew was still walking backwards down the aisle of the bleachers, smiling. Leo kept advancing, his body was smoking. His fists caught fire.

“Oooh, fire boy’s getting feisty,” She was walking quicker now, “I’ve done some research on your name, I have my ways of finding things out, y’know. And I uncovered a little secret of yours. Something you failed to mention to your siblings when you told them about your powers?”

Leo’s whole body was aflame now. Drew cackled.

“What are you gonna do, kill me?” Her back was pressed up against the wall of the stadium, an amused glint in her eye, “Just like you killed your-“

And the world erupted in flames.

II- Piper

The first thing Piper had registered was two of her siblings running scared out of the Chariot Stands, yelling something about a fire. Then she had heard the screaming.

She’d rushed in, shaking her can of hairspray that transformed into a fire extinguisher (a gift from Leo). What she saw filled her with fear and dread.

Drew was on the floor, backed up against a wall, shielding her face with her arm. Leo stood in front of her, surrounded by flames. His eyes were deep and dark and maniacal, his hands clenched tightly into fists. He was advancing slowly towards her, Jason stood helpless just out of reach of the flames, pleading with him to stop. Drew was screaming. Piper aimed her fire extinguisher at the scene and sprayed. Foam went everywhere, smothering the flames. When she was done, the bleachers of the racecourse were blackened and smoking, the chairs around her charred.

“Leo, what have you done?” Piper whispered, staring at him in horror.

“My face!” Drew cried, clutching the left side of her face, “He tried to fucking kill me!! My beautiful face!!”

Piper scowled at Drew, and then turned back to Leo. For a second, she caught a spark of pure hatred in his eyes, but then they welled with tears. At the sight of the shocked expression on her face, he seemed to realise what he’d done. His face contorted in remorse, and he tried to take a step towards her, but she felt herself flinch and back away in fear.

“Piper, I…”

Suddenly, the sound of voices made their heads turn. Chiron, and the other campers, led by Drew’s two cronies, were marching into the stands.

Piper turned to Leo.

“Go,” She commanded. There was no gentleness or sympathy in her voice, just a stern coldness, “Run. Now.”

And he did.

“Stop him!” One of the campers called, and began to chase after him, but Jason stood in their way, he kept his ice-blue eyes on Chiron, as if daring the centaur to scold him.

“He’s getting away!” The camper protested. Jason didn’t move.

“Let him go,” Chiron instructed, “Let us focus on repairing the damages.”

They took Drew to the infirmary. She was alive, you could tell by the wailing, but her face was badly scarred. Chiron held Jason, Piper, and Drew’s two friends back to ask them what happened.

“Me and Leo were eating lunch in the stands when Drew came up to us and started insulting Leo,” Jason explained. As he talked, he never broke eye contact with Chiron, giving him an aura of confidence, “The things she was saying- it was like she wanted him to flip out. She was trying to get a reaction out of him.”

“That’s not true!” One of Drew’s friends, Chloe, complained, “Drew just wanted to talk to the boy, when all of a sudden he started throwing fireballs at her face.”

Chiron turned to Piper, “And what did you see?”

“I only came in after Drew was attacked,” Piper explained, “But Leo wouldn’t just explode like that. He’s not a monster. Drew was probably using charm-speak on him to make him attack her- that way she could use it as leverage to turn the camp against us.”

“That’s an unfounded accusation,” Chiron said, “But I’ll admit, I am rather sceptical that Mr Valdez would attack her unprovoked. Jason, what was it she said to him?”

“She called him a monster, and said he belonged in Tartarus,” Jason said, “Then she… brought up the death of his mom.”

“That Valdez boy killed his own mother in a fire and then ran away!” Chloe said, “Drew was concerned at his failure to inform his siblings about that-“

“Because it’s a personal thing!” Jason yelled, “You shouldn’t expect him to give detailed outlines of all the traumatic things that ever happened to him!”

“I’m sorry for not feeling safe with a murderer around!”

“IT WAS AN ACCIDENT!!” Electricity crackled around Jason. Piper wondered if he’d gotten taller somehow, but then she looked at his feet and noticed he was levitating a few inches off the ground.

“We should track him down and make him pay for his crimes!” Drew’s other lackey suggested. Chloe nodded in agreement.

Jason glowered at them, lightning crackling some more.

“You’re right,” Chiron said.

“What?” Piper and Jason protested in unison.

“It’s not safe to have a powerful Pyrokinetic demigod out on his own, afraid and dangerous,” he explained, “For Leo’s own safety, we need to bring him back to camp.”

“We volunteer,” Chloe said.

“No,” Jason replied, ““After the way Drew treated him, I don’t blame him for running away. And frankly, I don’t think it is necessarily safer for him to be in a place that would shun him instead of teaching him how to actually control his powers,” he stared at Chiron, but he took Piper’s hand and squeezed it.

“But Chiron’s right. Leo’s afraid. If he sees you two coming, it’ll scare him away, which will only make things worse… But he trusts us. And we know him better than anyone. If anyone’s finding him, it’s me and Piper.”

III- Leo

Leo had lost control.

Dangerous. A freak. A monster that belonged in Tartarus. That was what Drew had called him. And she was right- he’d proven that much. He’d flipped out and almost killed her because he couldn’t do a little anger management. He remembered the terrified faces of Jason and Piper. His best friends had looked at him like he was unrecognisable. They had been afraid of him. Piper hadn’t told him to run out of the goodness of her heart, but as a warning. She was letting him scarper instead of face the consequences of what he’d done. Chiron and the other campers wouldn’t be so merciful.

Of course he had run. He always did. He always will. He had thought Camp Half-Blood might be different, but he’d ruined it like he had in all the foster homes, schools, even with his own family. He will never not be running.

He stared down at the valley beneath him. Camp half-blood gleamed in the spring sun. Next to him, a cliff ran along the edge of the Long Island Sound.

Gods, it would be safer for everyone if he just jumped.

He hadn’t had thoughts like that in a while, not since he was a kid. But he approached the edge of the cliff and looked down. The tide was out. He imagined his tiny body slamming against those jagged rocks, the waves coming in and carrying him away. He could be at peace. And everyone he loved would be safe from him.

No. He couldn’t think like that. He had to keep moving.

He’d kept an emergency backpack in Bunker 9 in case he needed to split. He’d been hopeful he didn’t need it, but obviously he had been wrong. He took it off his shoulder, and double-checked its contents. Inside, he had a spare change of clothes, a refillable water bottle, some cereal bars, a blanket, a map of New York, five dollars in cash, and his second-favourite screwdriver. If there was anything he didn’t have, his tool-belt would provide.

He made the trek halfway to Queens, before it started to get dark and he decided to hitch-hike. He was hesitant to at first- he wasn’t exactly in a position to interact with people- but he needed to get into the city before nightfall. He tried his best not to get carsick as the driver drove down winding outer-city roads.

Sitting alone in the back of a stranger’s car gave him time to think. His whole life, he’d been manipulated by the Gods. By Hera and by Gaia- trying to shape him into the perfect chess-piece for their stupid game, moving him around, bending him into the right piece for 20 moves in the future, toppling over all the other pawns at once. Okay, maybe Leo didn’t really know the rules of chess. But his mom had died as a result of the Gaia’s meddling, in conjunction with the narrative he was being forced into by an ancient being, planning around his future. Was he expected just to sit here and let her?

He’d always tried to do the right thing, never lose control, never get angry. When people gave Leo shit, he was supposed to just take it on the chin and bear it, because if he lashed out-

Well, he didn’t wish the fate of his mother on anyone, not even Drew Tanaka.

But Gods, it had felt so freeing to not have to keep it in anymore. To let it go.

Leo looked at his hands. He could do it again…

No. He couldn’t. But still, something had changed inside. And that terrified him. What scared him the most was how much he’d… enjoyed it. It was exhilarating. He’d fought back, defended himself, proved himself not to be messed with. He’d felt powerful. So powerful, even Jason had been afraid of him. Leo had to admit, the thought made his skin tingle with a strange feeling- not quite pride, exactly, but close.

Leo looked out at the bustling city streets of NYC. His goal had been to get away from Camp Half-Blood. But now, where would he go? This was the first time he’d ran away actually knowing who he was. He wasn’t just a scared little boy anymore, he was powerful. And he had a taste for revenge.

IV- Jason

This wasn’t a quest, Jason had decided. Quests were noble and brave. No. Finding Leo was a wild goose chase.

That kid had experience in running away.

“He’d probably go somewhere where he’d feel safe. Where is safe in New York?” Piper asked.

“Maybe a workshop? Or… scrapyard? Somewhere with machines?” Jason suggested.

“Think. This isn’t the first time he’s run away. Where has he been in the past?”

Neither of them had an answer. Leo really never talked about his time on the run. He’d mentioned a few things, sleeping in a sewer, hiding in alleyways to avoid the cops, eating out of dumpsters. Grim stuff. It had always shocked Jason how much he’d been through.

The Hermes cabin had been their best bet for advice on missing demigods. Travellers. They had told him every possible route into the city, the best places to go to hide. Scrapyards had been a good idea, they’d said. Lots of old cars to steal, things to make. And, for a massively overpowered son of Hephaestus, a lot of fun toys to play with. That was their best bet.

Jason got out a map and circled all the possible places Leo might go. They studied it for a few seconds, discussing which points to systematically hit first.

Piper looked at Jason, a sad yet serious expression in her multicoloured eyes.

“Jason… If we can’t… If we can’t stop him…”

Jason didn’t meet her gaze. He knew what she was saying. He hoped she didn’t say it.

“If we can’t convince him to come home… if he becomes dangerous… you know what we have to do, right?”

His skin tingled with electricity.

“How can you say that, Piper? How can you even think to suggest-”

“I don’t like it either. And, believe me, I am praying that it doesn’t come to that, but if it does… we need to be prepared to make that call. I am prepared. Are you?”

“No, I’m fucking not,” Jason roared, angrily, “You’re asking me if I’m prepared to kill my best friend? No. The answer is no.”

“Jason-“ Piper’s eyes scanned Jason’s face, worriedly, pleading with him to see her reasoning, “You always want to see the best in people, and I love that about you, but I don’t wanna see you get hurt because of that.”

“Leo would never hurt me,” Jason told her, but he didn’t entirely believe it. Something about the look in Leo’s eyes as he had attacked Drew made Jason’s skin crawl. Vicious, wild, and maniacal. Jason had a horrible feeling that if he had stood in Leo’s way, Leo would not have stopped.

He thought about everything that kid had been through. Orphaned at the age of eight, manipulated by the Gods, abandoned by his family, forced to grow up alone on the streets, bouncing around foster homes, treated as a freak by what was supposed to be the only place that was safe for him, and probably a lot more- Leo never really talked about his past, but Jason got the sense it had been harsh and brutal. From what Jason could remember, he’d grown up in the demigod world, fighting monsters and facing death and danger. But the mortal world could be dark and cruel in ways Jason couldn’t even imagine. Subtler, more twisted ways. In a sense, he had been sheltered from that, facing the more explicitly terrifying monsters. Leo had been exposed to those tender cruelties in full force- no wonder he was filled with so much bitterness and resentment. Jason didn’t blame him for wanting to get back at the world.

But would he really go as far as Piper feared?

Jason had to believe he was still worth fighting for. That he was still in there, buried under layers and layers of pain and resentment. That there was still hope.

The first three places were dead ends. Nothing. No Leo.

Dusk had fallen by the time they had arrived at the fourth place.

An abandoned landfill site- mostly cars and old machinery. Heaps of junk towered above them, piles of corrugated iron sheets as high as small buildings. Everything from empty tomato-soup cans to out-of-order JCB diggers. They split up- Piper taking the east side, Jason taking the west. The sunset backlit the mountains of scrap, making the shadows loom over him.

Huge peak, black and huge, Jason thought.

Huh. Since when did he know Wordsworth? He didn’t have that many memories of his past, but he didn’t figure himself a literature geek. He thought about that poem, though. A man being so shocked by the vastness and power of nature that it kept him awake at night- “A trouble to his dreams”. He kind of related that to what Leo must’ve been feeling- terrified by something that was beyond his control. Tempted by the allure of power, only to realise how frightening the reality of it actually was. The poem starts with the man thinking he’s superior to nature- that he can command and control it. Then, when he sees the mountain, he realises his mistake. He realises his insignificance against the vastness of the peak. He realises that it was not him controlling nature, but in fact nature controlling him. He turns back, but the experience scars him. It haunts him for the rest of his life.

Jason shook his head. He couldn’t let his mind wander. Leo Valdez was not an epic poem- he was a scared, lost, and extremely dangerous teenager. There was nothing poetic or mysterious about the shit he’d been through. And comparing thee to a summer’s day would not help Jason find him.

He picked his way through the undergrowth of landfill, searching for a sign of life.

And then he saw it- a shape of a person in the passenger seat of a car. He saw the bounce of the curly hair, the long, bony, twitching fingers tapping on the dashboard. Aside from that, the shape didn’t seem to be moving. Just… waiting.

Jason saw Piper emerge from behind another large pile of trash. He waved her over and pointed to the car. Piper nodded. Jason approached. Leo didn’t look up, or give any indication that he saw Jason. Jason put a hand on the driver-side door and opened it.

“Leo?”

Leo was sitting, facing forward, tapping his fingers on the dashboard of the car. He didn’t answer. Jason sat down in the driver’s seat and closed the door.

“Leo, listen to me,” Jason pleaded, “You have to come back with us. I know it wasn’t your fault what happened at camp- but they don’t know that. You have to come and prove to them that you didn’t mean to hurt her. We can fix this.”

“I’m not going back, Jason,” Leo said, quietly, still staring through the front window, “You can go home.”

“But they’ll listen to you if you come- you can convince them you didn’t mean it. We’ll help you.”

“But what if I did mean it?” Leo turned to Jason, his eyes dark and hard and serious.

“Leo…”

Leo’s eyes flashed with anger, then he turned and looked through the window again.

“I’m not going back,” He repeated, his tone final.

“Leo, I know that you’re probably feeling a lot of emotions right now. You’re hurting. You’re… wait- what’s happening?” Jason felt the car start to move underneath them- inching forward sluggishly over the broken tarmac. Jason turned to Leo, “Leo? What-“

Without a word, Leo grabbed the handle to the side door and walked out of the car. Jason tried to open his own door, but he heard a click. It was locked. How was Leo doing this? Then he remembered during their quest- how easily Leo had deactivated the traps to Midas’ mansion. How he had known how to fly that helicopter just by listening to it. If Leo had some sort of telepathic ability with machines, he would be able to control the car without even touching it. That was frightening.

Jason watched the scene through the front windscreen. Piper was pleading with Leo. He could hear her voice, but her words were muffled. She tried to grab Leo’s wrist, but he shook her off. They were directly in front of the car now- Leo tried to walk away, towards the exit, but Piper was standing in his way. The car kept inching forwards like it was rolling down a very gradual hill. He was close enough to make out what Piper was saying now. Jason could hear her yelling, “Then why did you wait for us here only to refuse to come back with us?”

Leo pushed past her. Piper followed. She reached for his wrist again, but he pulled away, pushing her backwards in the process.

The car crept forward.

“Where are you gonna go, Leo?” Piper called, “What place is gonna take you in if not Camp Half-Blood?”

Leo flicked his wrist, and there was a metal clang! Piper stumbled and fell to the ground, right in the direct path of the car. The hem of her jeans were caught in some elaborate bear trap, scattered among the scrap that littered the floor. Katoptris clattered to the ground and skidded across the tarmac, just out of reach of Piper’s grasp.

Jason realised with horror that the car was not stopping. It began to pick up speed- faster, faster, it was barreling forwards now. He tried slamming on the breaks but it was no good. The accelerator was held down without his foot even on it. Piper was in front of the car. She screamed. Jason knew that she had no time to get out of the way. Leo’s lips twisted into a smile. Jason closed his eyes. Oh gods… Piper…

And then he heard tires screeching. He felt the car skid to a halt. Piper was still screaming. When Jason opened his eyes, Piper was on the ground, the front of the car was inches away from her trapped leg. The engine still revved like an impatient lion, wanting to cut to the kill.

“Promise to let me leave, Jason,” Leo said, his voice firm, “Promise you will let me go and you will not follow me.”

“Leo… don’t do this…” Jason pleaded.

“PROMISE ME OR PIPER GETS PANCAKED!!” He bellowed.

The engine revved again.

“Okay… okay… I promise… but Leo…”

“SWEAR IT ON THE RIVER STYX. BOTH OF YOU. AND SWEAR THAT NO-ONE ELSE FROM CAMP HALF-BLOOD WILL FOLLOW ME EITHER.”

Piper pleaded, “Leo, they’re out for your blood, we can’t stop-“

“SWEAR IT.”

The car inched forward, slowly. Piper caught her breath, and squeezed her eyes shut. Jason tried to get out of the car, but the door wouldn’t open.

“Leo. Stop it,” Jason begged, “This isn’t like you.”

“Isn’t like me?” Leo scoffed, “The dangerous freak is finally showing you just how dangerous and freaky he actually is. Or did you think I was just an innocent side-character? Your sassy comedic relief? You never thought I’d actually do something, did you?”

“Leo…”

“No, go ahead and save the girl. I’ll be waiting off-stage for my cue to be the funny best friend. I’ll tell my dumb jokes. Nobody actually gives a shit about who I really am. How I really feel.”

“That’s not true, Leo,” Piper assured him. Her voice was surprisingly calm for how much danger she was in.

“You don’t really believe that, or you wouldn’t be charmspeaking me, huh, beauty queen?” Leo’s eyes danced with malice, “No. The only person who ever cared about me WENT UP IN FUCKING FLAMES!!!!!!”

The car sped backwards, away from Piper. The tires screeched on the tarmac. Then it proceeded to drive towards her, picking up speed. Jason did the only thing he could- he put a hand on the dashboard, and sent a bolt of electricity through the body of the car. Luckily, it did what he wanted, and didn’t explode. It short-circuited the vehicle, giving Jason time to get out of the car before Leo could force-lock it again.

“Leo, I know you’re angry. I know you have a lot of resentment for the world-“

“YOU DON’T FUCKING KNOW ANYTHING!!” He yelled, “You had your happy reunion. Both of you. Jason found Thalia, his long-lost sister. Piper rescued her dad. You both have people- family- who care for you. My only family… my only blood relatives kicked me out, cast me aside, and blamed me for the death of my mom.”

“That’s where you’re going?” Jason said, “Back to Texas? To get revenge on your Aunt?”

Leo said nothing. That was answer enough.

Jason took a tentative step towards Leo, but Leo’s eyes gave him one quick flash of malice and then he turned and darted past a pile of scrap, squeezed through a gap in the surrounding fence, and disappeared. Jason wanted to bolt after him, but he couldn’t leave Piper. He walked over to her and examined where the fabric of her jeans had been caught in the trap. Luckily, the metal teeth had not caught her leg. Jason picked Piper’s dagger off the ground and cut into the denim jeans, slicing off the corner that was stuck in the trap. Piper wriggled free.

“Another perfectly good pair of jeans, ruined!” Piper complained.

“Oh my gods, how will you cope?” Jason replied, helping her up, then he turned serious, “Are you okay?”

“Physically, I’m fine. But seeing Leo like that…”

Jason remembered what Piper had said about Leo, about him becoming too dangerous, and he knew she was right. Leo had just tried to kill them. He was on his way to kill someone else. They had to stop him. Even if that meant…

No. Jason couldn’t. There was some part of Leo still left there. He had to believe that.

“Come on,” Jason said, “We’ve got a rogue demigod to find.”

V- Leo

Leo had done a lot of thinking on the long bus ride to Texas

The ride was meant to take six hours. Leo hadn’t had the money to pay for it, but luckily he had quick fingers. He felt bad about pickpocketing, but strangely not as bad as he should have felt. That filled Leo with dread. It felt like his emotions were freezing over, becoming closed and calloused just like the skin on his hands. Numb. Desensitised. He was doing bad things, making dangerous choices, but he no longer cared. He was going to kill someone, and he wouldn’t even be sorry.

He studied his arms. Scabbed-over cuts, faded scars, bruises new and old.

He remembered the bullies in the foster homes, cornering him and beating him up. Kicking and pummelling him as he crumpled to the floor. He remembered thinking, as he lay there, I deserve it.

He remembered his abusive foster mom, [this is cannon, mentioned in BoO], the look in her eyes as she hit him.

Slap! I deserve it.

He remembered running away, surviving on the streets for weeks with nothing in his stomach but bile. The agony of hunger blurring his vision, making it hard to think straight. Still one thought remained clear, I deserve it.

He remembered the knife in an alleyway, dragging the cold blade across his skin, blood trickling down his arm. I deserve it. I deserve it. I deserve it. I deserve it.

He remembered the confrontations he’d had at Camp after he’d revealed his powers. They’d cornered him, too. Throttled him and punched him. He’d let them. He’d curled up on the asphalt of the basketball pitch, thinking: I deserve it.

He’d tried to hide the bruises from Jason, but Jason still noticed them. He’d been outraged, shouting at Leo, “You could’ve stopped them! Why didn’t you?!”

Because, Leo had thought, I deserve it.

All these things had left him scars. Every mark on his arm a painful memory of the things that had happened to him. Every single one of them he deserved.

And now…

Oh Gods, what had he done? He had tried to kill his two best friends. He had actually, genuinely wanted to hurt them. Wanted them dead.

What would they think of him now? Would they forgive him? No, he knew they wouldn’t. They’d try to stop him. They’d try to kill him.

I deserve it, Leo thought.

Leo knew he was unfixable. Broken beyond repair. No rescue. No salvation. So if he was throwing his hopeless little life away, he might as well take someone else down with him.

There were people out there who deserved it, too.

Leo clenched his fists in anger just remembering everything Aunt Rosa had done. She had called him terrible names, yelled at the social workers to take him away, turned his whole family against him. She had ruined Leo’s life- abandoned him and left him in the hands of the worst people. She was the reason for all those scars on his arm.

I deserve it.

Yeah, well, she deserves it too.

Six hours until Texas, and Leo had already been awake for the past thirty four. He decided to close his eyes and sleep.

The nightmares came at him, fast.

He dreamed of the night his mother was killed. The low, cold, sleepy voice of Gaia as she told him of what was to come. He remembered the flames caressing his skin as his hands caught light. “They cannot stop me from breaking your spirit,” She had said to him. For years, he had dwelled on that line. For years, he had kept up appearances- kept up the Mask of the jokes and the sarcasm.

He remembered the sleeping face of the woman. Her shifting, dirt-like clothes. He was always the life of the party, the class clown, the comedic relief. He’d made everyone believe he had kept his spirit- that he’d never lost it in that fire. That it was more than just shattered remnants of happiness.

He remembered her coming towards him, advancing slowly and drowsily. He could not let anyone see that his spirit was broken. Not his friends. Not Gaia. Not even himself. Because he believed that if he let that Mask down for even a second, then she’d won.

He remembered the fear he had felt when the door had locked itself. The utter dread that rose in his stomach. Always positive. Always happy. Happy lil’ guy Leo. But the weight of that Mask had been crushing him. Now he’d shown his true, terrifying colours. And gods, it was like a heavy load had been lifted off his shoulders. He wasn’t afraid of being judged. Of bullies. Of monsters. He wasn’t even afraid of Gaia anymore. He wasn’t gonna be weighed down by the need to pretend just because some goddess thought she could control him. She was no different than Drew Tanaka- whispering cruel insults just to provoke him- and Leo had burned her putrid little face off.

He was there again. That night. Fire rose up, threatening to rage and roar. This time, Leo didn’t stop it. He let the flames engulf him and he actually smiled. He remembered the walls of the workshop blackening and crumbling. He remembered the ceiling falling down around him. For the first time, he’d seen that night as a display of his power- he had burned an entire building down at the age of eight, without even trying. He’d spent the next seven years suppressing his abilities, squashing it down, never giving in to the temptation of lashing out. Now, knowing the extent of his powers… imagine what he could do with some practice, maybe some training. The world had wronged him, but he was powerful. And he was gonna get it back.

He remembered the police sirens singing quietly in the distance. The flashing lights revolving silently across the world, washing it in red, blue, red, blue.

He was angry. He was gonna kill her. He was gonna fucking kill her.

Leo woke with a start. He felt the heat in his body rising, and quickly tried to squash it down. Luckily, there was no-one sitting next to him, but the stench in the air and on the leather seats at the back of the bus smelled incredibly flammable. Leo’s skin was scolding hot to the touch. He looked up at the no smoking sign, and chuckled at the irony of it.

Outside the window, the bus was pulling into a depot, manoeuvring into a space. He heard, or rather, felt, the tires underneath him slow to a halt. They had arrived.

VI- Jason

Texas was six hours away. They could get there quicker by plane, but they didn’t have the money for a ticket. They couldn’t even afford a coach, but luckily Piper had a solution. With a quick help from the Human Spark Plug that was Jason, they managed to get the car that Leo had tried to pancake them with up and running. Piper had gotten private driving lessons from her dad in the run-up to her sixteenth birthday. She’d put them to good use when she’d joyridden that BMW. They just prayed that she looked old enough to not be asked for a license.

It had taken them an hour to get out of the New York traffic, costing them valuable time. If they really were on their way to save a life, Jason hoped that getting stuck still behind a taxi cab for fifteen minutes didn’t cost them that. From what he’d heard about Leo’s Aunt Rosa, Jason figured she was a nasty and unpleasant piece of shit. But that didn’t mean she deserved to die. Besides, it wasn’t her that they were trying to save- it was Leo. Taking a life changes someone. He wanted to stop Leo before he went down that path. Jason couldn’t lose Leo like that.

“How’re we gonna stop him?” Jason asked, the long, winding upstate roads twisting before them.

Piper sighed, keeping her eyes on the road, “I tried charm-speak in the scrapyard. It didn’t do anything. He’s too far gone- too stuck in his own head to listen to reason.”

“There’s gotta be some way we can get through to him. There’s gotta be hope.”

“But what if there isn’t?” Piper’s voice cracked slightly, “What if…”

“We’re not having this conversation again, Piper. We’ll find some other way.”

Piper looked like she wanted to argue, but she kept her mouth shut.

They drove for several more hours before they arrived in Huston. Daylight rose up as they entered the city. Neither of them had slept. The streets became progressively more packed and winding as they delved further into the city.

The only question was- Where was Leo? How were they gonna find one scrappy twig of a boy in a big city like Huston?

Luckily, as they drove down the busy streets, a fire engine raced past, sirens blaring. Piper and Jason exchanged looks. It very well might not’ve been Leo, but it was their best lead. Piper stepped on the gas, and they went after the engine. Several cars honked at them angrily, but Piper ignored them. She sped up, going through a red light.

The car skidded to a halt when Piper saw that the firetruck had stopped outside a building. Smoke was pouring out of one of the ground-floor windows, but it wasn’t alight yet. Jason sighed with relief when he saw that a crowd of people- he guessed most of the inhabitants judging by the size of the apartment complex- standing safely outside. No-one looked badly hurt, but there was no Leo.

They got out of the car and moved closer towards the crowd. Nobody stopped them in the chaos.

“A teenage boy,” Jason head one of the residents say to the firefighter, “Stormed into our neighbours apartment. We heard yelling, then we heard the fire alarms.”

“What did this boy look like?”

“He was skinny, looked about fifteen, maybe sixteen- he had dark hair and his clothes and face was covered in dirt.”

Yup, that was Leo alright.

“He’s still in there,” the witness said, “I-I didn’t see him or our neighbour come out.”

Jason thanked the god of eavesdropping on people giving valuable exposition, and grabbed Piper’s hand. Before the firefighters could stop them, they rushed into the building.

Jason ran down the hall. One of the doors was ajar, and thick smoke was pouring out of it. Jason pulled Piper inside.

Leo was standing there, his body aflame, looming over an old woman, cowering on the floor. Leo was approaching her, slowly.

“Say you’re sorry, Aunt Rosa!” Leo yelled, “Say you’re sorry for everything you did to me.”

“Leo, stop!” Piper cried, and for a second, Leo did. But then he shook his head, and kept advancing.

“Say you’re sorry!” He commanded.

“I-I-“ The woman stammered. Leo’s fire burned brighter. Piper rushed forward and grabbed Leo’s Aunt by the shoulders and pulled her out of the way. She pushed her towards Jason, who grabbed her and shoved her towards the door. She ran without looking back.

Leo turned to face him. He was still wearing his Camp Half-Blood t-shirt, which was now tattered and scorched and ripped. He glowered menacingly at Jason, fire danced in his eyes. Some twisted muscle in the corner of his mouth curled into a smile, as he sent two lines of flames racing towards Piper. Jason ran and pushed her out of range of the attack, just before walls of fire closed in around him. Heat hit him in the face with an unbearable force. Searing pain. Jason felt the strength seeping out of him. Leo was advancing slowly down the alleyway he’d created with his flames.

“Leo, please,” Jason begged, “You don’t want to do this. Please, I know some part of you still cares.”

At Jason’s pleading the corner of Leo’s mouth twisted into even more of a cruel smile. It wasn’t Leo’s smile- that flash of that playful grin, the mischievous twinkle in his eye, the cheeky little dimple at the corner of his mouth. No. This smile was cold and menacing, and it was disturbing how genuine it was. Leo was enjoying this.

Jason’s skin blackened and blistered. He wanted to cry out in pain, but Leo’s hand shot out and closed around his throat, cutting off what little oxygen Jason had left in the smoke-filled room.

“JASON!!” Piper yelled

It was now or never. Leo had Jason pinned against the wall, but Jason had the physical advantage over him, despite the energy seeping out of his muscles as Leo throttled him. He could muster up enough strength to overpower Leo, bring his sword down on his skull, end it all here. His vision was clouding fast, and Jason could feel his empty lungs screaming for air. If he didn’t act now, he’d quickly lose consciousness. But something made him hesitate. He let his sword clatter to the ground. Leo kicked it aside, keeping his eyes locked on Jason. Jason raised his hand, and touched Leo’s cheek. The last thing he saw was Leo’s dark eyes, cold and cruel, as the life drained out of Jason’s body and the fire swallowed him whole.

VII- Piper

Piper couldn’t see. Smoke filled the room and stung her eyes. She could just make out the vague silhouette of Leo holding Jason up by the throat- pinning him against the wall. She saw Jason struggle, gasping for air.

She called his name.

She unsheathed Katoptris and rushed forwards, but the heat from the flames was too much to bear, so she staggered back. She stood there, helpless, as Leo chocked Jason to death. She saw Jason drop his sword, and Leo kick it away. It skidded to a halt at Piper’s feet. What the fuck was Jason doing, letting go of his weapon? Leo was gonna kill him! She saw Jason reach out towards Leo, then his limbs went slack.

“NOOOOOO!!!!!!” Piper screamed.

Too late. She watched in horror as Jason’s limp body disappeared behind a column of flames. Piper picked up his sword with trembling hands, as Leo turned to face her.

She couldn’t believe it. Jason was dead. And Leo- Leo, his best friend, his closest companion, had killed him.

No. It wasn’t Leo. The man that stood in front of her was barely recognisable as that scrawny kid she’d met at the Wilderness School. His pointed facial features were darkened in the fire-lit room, the muscles around his mouth were contorted into a deranged grin. The look in his dark eyes was of pure malice. That. Was not. Leo.

Jason was dead. Whatever it was that stood before her had killed him. And it needed to pay.

It advanced towards her, but she was ready. She held Jason’s sword firmly in her grip.

As she slashed the blade across its chest, she saw that warped smile falter and for a moment, she caught a glimpse of Leo’s fearful expression. Then the light in his eyes died, and he crumpled to the ground, lying still.

He didn’t turn to dust like a monster.

He just lay there. Blood seeped out of the gash in his chest. So much blood.

Piper stood there as the world blurred around her. She felt someone grab her and rush her out of the building, but it all seemed like it was happening to someone else. The paramedics ran to her side, tending her burns. Firefighters doused the building in water. She replayed the moment she had killed Leo over and over again in her mind- that flash of remorse as the golden blade struck across his skin, blood trickling from the wound she’d made. So much blood. Oh gods, there had been so much blood. How can a body that tiny have so much blood?

She could’ve found another way. She could’ve saved him. If she had just hesitated-

No. Jason had hesitated. Leo had not. And now Jason was dead.

She knew it. In her heart, she knew it.

She knew that there was no hope of the firefighters finding Jason’s body as anything more than a blackened corpse. No rescue. No salvation.

Leo hadn’t been a monster. He was just a scared little kid.

She thought about everything he’d been through, everything he’d seen. He’d done terrible things. He’d let the power corrupt him. Let the anger and the pain take over until it consumed him. He was not controlling it. It was controlling him. He surrendered himself to it, believing he himself was not worth enough to be saved. It was better to submit. Leo could not see the good in himself, so threw himself into his power and let the cruelty take hold. Deep down, Piper knew he was just scared. He was just a kid- a barely fifteen, 5’1, runty little boy. Leo was badly damaged and broken and hurting. He didn’t ask to be born into this cruel world. To lose his mom, his hope, his home, his everything. He didn’t choose this life of torture and suffering. He didn’t want to be a half-blood.

He did not deserve it.

——————————————————————————————————————————-

A few author’s footnotes for the end:

I know Drew is a more complex character than that, but I needed a someone to bully Leo and she seemed like a better choice than to just create one.

I did start suddenly talking about Wordsworth there- I’m a huge literature geek and I really wanted to make that connection. I started writing a mountain and suddenly my brain jumped on the whole “Power of nature controlling you” metaphor.

About the car telekinesis thing- I’m pretty sure in MoA or something he actually moves some gears through a brick wall, just by putting a hand on it, which gave me the idea that he probably could drive a car with his mind if he was angry enough.

Also, I’ve just read the ending of BoO (I wrote this fic while I was still working my way through HoO), and we don’t talk enough about how in the battle against Gaia (also Ik I probably spelt her name wrong, I listened to the audiobooks, ok?) Leo was so powerful his body was actually made of fire- like Jason describes how you could see the flames inside him illuminating his skull!! Y’all say Percy is the most powerful demigod, but nobody fucking talks about Leo!! Percy didn’t even kill Kronos himself, he just handed Luke the knife. Leo DESTROYED MOTHER EARTH!!!! And, as I’m pretty sure mentioned in the story, he’d been suppressing his powers his entire life. Now he can finally let loose, he gets to be actually scary.

And not just with his fire as well- Leo is easily one of the most talented Hephaestus kids with machines, so much that he’s able to communicate with them. I wrote that scene in the junkyard to allow Leo to be fucking terrifying.

Aaaaand writing that just now, I’ve realised that might be my own automatophobia (fear of freaky animatronics and shit) being projected through my writing. Wow, the things you learn about yourself through fanfiction.

Also, everything I wrote about machines is probably SUPER inaccurate. I know nothing about them.

Similarly, I have never been to Texas or even America so I have no clue if any of my descriptions were accurate

Idk why I put “He didn’t want to be a half-blood” at the end. But I think it’s an interesting parallel to the themes explored in the first series with Percy and Luke- to be so wronged by the world that you just want to get back at it. But Luke had been wronged by the godly world, Leo had been wronged by the mortal one (but also by Hera and Gaia).

I’ve wanted to write this fic for a long time, and started getting ideas even before finishing tlh- but it was a post by @malrie that inspired me to start actually writing it, linking that here.

Also ty to @lavenderfairiez for helping me proofread some bits I wasn’t sure about and giving me some advice

This IS lowkey inspired by Shakespeare’s “Othello” (Like I said, literature geek)- a guy goes evil bc of the shitty way society treated him and everyone dies in the end. It’s a great play.

Vague undertones of Valgrace bc I couldn’t help myself, but it can be interpreted however you want. I didn’t ship Valgrace when I started this, and in fact I think I began writing it the day I began writing my first Valgrace fic, which then led me to start shipping them. Most of this was meant to be written platonically, but now I’ve made it a bit gay. Ooopsie daisy.

Also, sorry if you’re crying now. Actually, I’m kinda not sorry. I’m like Rick after writing the end of MoA.

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