#it has been a while since i read the books

[cherrygarcia-07]

all of my fics have been a little wordy and a little hefty lately so here’s something light and fluffy and funny for a little breather :3

Baby Burglar // Spencer Reid🧸

Synopsis: Spencer Reid is absolutely wrapped around his baby girl’s little finger, but he learns he really needs to loosen up when she comes home from a shopping trip with a surprise hidden in her stroller.

Pairing: girl dad! spencer reid x wife! reader

Genre: pure fluff!!

Word Count: 2.7k

Notes/Tags: nothing really! baby is under 1 yrs old, also unnamed for your benefit :3 theft (not serious), brief brief talk of pregnancy. I think that’s it. Spencer is just a big old silly who loves his baby girl more than anything in the world- and he infodumps like crazy to her :3

masterlist // if you enjoy pls reblog!! it helps so much!!

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“Is she almost ready, Spence?” You called from the hallway as you pulled on your shoes.

“Almost! Just give us two seconds!” He shouted back as he put a tiny pair of mismatched socks on your daughter for the hundredth time that she was sure to kick off again the second he turned his back.

“It’s a little chilly out, make sure she has a cardigan.”

“Already picked out.” Spencer smiled as he picked up the little cardigan laid out on his lap. It was a baby blue sweater with flower shaped buttons and two cute cartoon cows embroidered on its pockets.

“Do you know what animal this is?” He asked your baby girl who was currently preoccupied pulling at loose threads on the rug on the floor. It didn’t matter that she was far too young to answer, Spencer just loved talking to her about anything and everything. He loved how she babbled in response, how her wide eyes stared up at him and a gummy smile grew on her face at the sound of his voice. “That’s right it’s a cow. And what sound does a cow make?”

You heard a low ‘moo’ in the cadence of your husband’s voice rumble through the house, something between a sigh and a laugh tumbling out of you as you packed your daughter’s stroller. Figuring he was going to be a little while longer you made your way up to her bedroom, hovering just out of eyesight so you could listen in.

“Did you know that cows have best friends?” He said as he began gently pulling her little arms through the sleeves. “They’re very social animals and studies show they’re a lot happier and under far less stress when they’re with specific members of their herd. That’s kind of how I feel when I’m with you and Mommy.” He added as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

A smile pinched at your lips as you heard her chatter something in response, her airy voice spilling out of the room.

“And you know what else? Cows love music, too.” Spencer continued as he fastened her buttons. “They hear a higher range of frequencies than we do so farm noise can be overwhelming for them. Studies show they don’t really have a preferred genre but they seem to be quite fond of classical music. A bit like Daddy, huh?”

You loved how much he loved spending time with her. It didn’t matter that she couldn’t talk back, nothing made him happier than to sit and ramble about his day or tell his daughter fun facts about every topic under the sun. He’d been doing it ever since you were pregnant, laying down next to you with one hand laid carefully over your stomach while he recited children’s stories to her, complete with silly voices and facts about the authors. He’d read countless articles and books about the benefits of communication and developing their language skills and that was the reason he always gave you for it, but you knew it was simply that before she was even born she was his best friend in the whole world.

“You two ready?” You asked softly as you stepped into the room.

Spencer gasped dramatically as your daughter’s eyes widened in excitement at the sight of you. It was something that never failed to make your heart melt.

“Look who it is!” He mused, standing up with your baby in his arms as she squealed and clumsily reached her arms out to you.

“Well if it isn’t my two favourite people in the world!” You beamed as you took her in your hold and kissed her chubby cheeks. Beside you, Spencer cleared his throat, not-so-nonchalantly turning his head to the side and displaying his own cheek to you. You rolled your eyes at his theatrics but kissed him all the same, much to his delight as his face warmed immediately.

Not long after, the three of you were out and headed to the supermarket, although your daughter hadn’t stayed in her stroller for long. Her father was seemingly allergic to not having her in his arms at any given moment and so he walked with one hand holding her safely on his hip and the other lazily pushing the pram in front of you. You trailed slightly behind, watching as the two of them babbled back and forth like a daddy-daughter talk show, Spencer bouncing her on his hip every once in a while to make her giggle.

“You know butterflies taste with their feet?” He’d said at one point after one had fluttered past. “They have what’s called chemoreceptors on their feet that help them tell if the plant they’ve landed on is good to eat or not. Can you imagine that?”

The walk to the supermarket continued exactly like that, a picture of bliss as Spencer talked her little ears off about anything he set his eyes on as you chuckled happily behind them (and took a thousand pictures of the two of them to send to Penelope). Eventually when you reached the store, he pouted as you sat her back in her stroller.

“Can I at least push her around the store?” He grumbled.

“Would it kill you if you didn’t?” You teased, cocking a brow at him- although secretly it was far easier to have him distracted while you shopped as he was always surprisingly indecisive about what he wanted.

“I think it might.” He sighed sarcastically, one hand alright curling around the handle before you gave in.

The three of you made your way around the store, you pushing the shopping cart and Spencer pushing your daughter in her stroller as she kicked her little legs. There was a slight chaos that came with grocery shopping with a baby; stopping every couple of aisles to pull on the socks that she kept peeling off as if she had a personal vendetta against them; crouching in front of her to soothe her uncomfortable crying when you passed through the frozen aisles; chasing after the trail of toys and random objects being tossed over the side of her seat in boredom- but you wouldn’t have it any other way. It was noisy, it was messy, but it was yours.

However at one point as you browsed the produce section you realised it was significantly quieter- too quiet. Suspicion rising, you looked around only to find that your husband and daughter were no longer there. Humming to yourself you made your way to where you knew they’d snuck off to, the aisle Spencer seemed to have a magnet built into him that drew him in now that he had a baby to spoil: the toy aisle.

“What are you doing?”

Spencer’s hand froze where it hovered above a stuffed animal, red and blue lights seemingly flashing all around as he slowly turned to look up at you watching with your hands on your hips.

“N-nothing.” He stumbled, clearing his throat and straightening up where he stood, very clearly not doing nothing.

“Really?” Your eyes darted between the toy and his nervous expression. “Because it looks like you’re trying to buy her her millionth toy this week alone.”

Spencer gulped, the bright light of the imaginary interrogation room bulb pulsing down on him. “I think ‘millionth’ is a vast exaggeration,” he stuttered, “if we’re counting accurately it’s actually been-“

“Spencer.”

“Yes?” He squeaked.

“Walk away.” You stifled a chuckle at the puppy dog eyes he flashed you immediately, his bottom lip threatening that child-like pout you found so endearing. You weren’t trying to be the strict parent- really you weren’t. In fact you were prone to spoiling your little girl rotten yourself, it’s just that Spencer went overboard like his life depended on it and quite frankly you weren’t sure a thousand variations of stuffed animals was exactly what she needed at this stage in her life.

“She’d love it.” He sulked.

“She’s half asleep.” You smirked as he followed your gaze to your daughter’s half closed eyes, her head bouncing slightly against the side of her stroller as she dozed off, clearly unable to care less about the toy.

“But you didn’t see the way she looked at it earlier!” God, he is relentless.

“Honey, I love how enthusiastic you are about giving her everything she wants, really I do, but she’s a baby. She looks at the ceiling fan in our bedroom the exact same way.” You tilted your head sympathetically, though you were thoroughly amused on the inside.

“Fine, fine. I guess you’re right.” Spencer sighed, defeated. He surrendered, backing away from the shelf and picking up the blanket which had at some point fell to the floor like a white flag. “But next time I’m buying her something.”

“Oh I’m sure you will.” You said, planting a light kiss on his cheek and pulling him away to continue your shopping trip.

A little while later and the three of you were back at home, shopping bags dumped rather haphazardly by the front door as you took a breather. You’d fought to keep your daughter awake so she could nap at home, but it just wasn’t happening. Her little socks were hanging off of her feet again as her legs slung out over the front of the stroller, her head tucked against her shoulder as she snored softly into her cardigan. She looked so angelic you found yourself not even caring about the impending chaos that would come when she woke up. You crouched down in front of the stroller ready to unbuckle her when something caught your eye, tucked behind her back like it was hiding. Something brown and fluffy with a little bow tie.

“Spencer?” You called, instantly dubious.

“Yeah?” He called back cheerily from where he’d begun carrying your bags into the kitchen.

“Did you buy this behind my back?” You pulled the teddy bear out from behind her, careful not to wake her up.

“What are you talking about?” He materialised in the doorway suddenly, brows pinched in confusion.

With an incredulous look on your face you held the teddy bear up in the air for him to see, tentatively holding it by its paw between your thumb and pointer finger as if it were evidence.

“What is-“ he began spluttering, “I did not buy her that. I put it back like you said, I swear.”

“Then where did it come from?” You questioned, equally confused at the magic presence of this odd bear. “Oh my god.”

“What?”

“I think she stole it.” You declared, eyes falling back on the deceptive little sleeping angel still curled up in her seat, blanket in hand.

“What?” Spencer echoed, voice several octaves higher and eyes widened beyond belief. “How? When?”

“She must’ve swiped it from the shelf when you weren’t looking.” You laughed, picturing her innocently grabbing at the little bear and tucking it under her arm. Spencer wasn’t so thrilled, in fact he looked white as a ghost. “Spence?”

“We have to give it back.” He croaked. “Or go back and pay for it.”

“What are you talking about, Spence, it’s a stupid teddy bear.” You stood as he began pacing the room, hand tucked under his chin like he did when he was overthinking.

“It’s theft is what it is!” He choked, brows shooting up so high you thought they’d fly off of his head entirely.

Biting back a smile you planted your hands firmly on his shoulders, stopping his pacing and forcing him to look at you. “It’s a stupid little teddy bear. She swiped it accidentally. No one’s going to miss it especially not at a huge supermarket.”

“I can’t believe my daughter stole something.” He muttered, ignoring you completely. “I’m an FBI agent and my daughter stole something.”

“Okay well they’re hardly going to come breaking down our door, are they?” You teased, setting the bear back down in her lap.

“We have to go back and pay for it at least.” He met your eyes, completely serious.

“You want to go all the way back to the store to pay-“ you paused to crouch down and check the tag on its fuzzy ear, “five dollars and ninety nine cents?”

“Yes!” He yelped. “We’re setting a bad example to her if we don’t. Not to mention it’s theft which I’m sure I don’t need to remind you is completely illegal!”

“I don’t think she’s going to grow up to become a bank robber or a car thief over this, honey.”

“Well let’s hope not.” He scoffed.

“She’s not going to remember this at all. She doesn’t even know what happened.”

“You’re underestimating just how much passive information our brains store. Especially for a child her age- what seems insignificant to us can actually be the building blocks of-“

“Spence.” You sighed, exasperated, stepping forward and placing a hand on his arm to steady him. “You’re catastrophising.”

“I can’t help it.” He swallowed, calming down a little. “It’s the principle. It makes me feel… icky.” He muttered, making you huff a breathy laugh at his childish choice of words.

“But look at her,” you cooed, turning back to look at your daughter still in her stroller. At some point in the panic she’d looped an arm around the teddy bear’s neck, holding it against her face and cuddling it in her sleep. It’s bow tie was a similar shade of blue to the cardigan she wore, it’s brown fur wild and adorably messy just like Spencer’s- honestly it seemed like it fit right in with the family. “You wanted to spoil her, right? Look how much she loves it already. And when she wakes up you can play with it together and tell her everything you know about teddy bears and whatever else you two want to babble about, yeah?”

He sighed again, taking in the peaceful sight before him. He couldn’t deny the warm feeling blooming in his chest as he watched the way she tucked the bear under her chin and absentmindedly nestled into it, her tiny fingers disappearing into its curly fur.

“Alright.” He whispered eventually, eyes still fixed on the cherubic girl. “But I’m still going back tomorrow to pay. Maybe they won’t be so harsh if I show them my badge and- what, what are you laughing it?” He turned to you, brows furrowed again as his mouth hang agape.

You giggled behind your hand, shaking your head at the image of your husband, your nerdy little Spencer Reid, flashing his FBI badge at the supermarket cashiers, teddy bear in hand and a look of complete seriousness in his big doe eyes. God, you adored him and his dear, dorky brain.

“Nothing, nothing. I just love you.” You grinned up at him, laughter threatening to spill again as the confusion still lingered on his face.

“I love you too?” He answered, still unsure what part of his super serious plan had broken you.

At that moment, your baby girl began stirring, stretching and yawning in her stroller as big as her small limbs would let her. Instantly, Spencer’s whole mood shifted as his face lit up and he sprang into action, unbuckling her and lifting her into his arms as he peppered her with soft kisses. You watched as you had that morning at the way he doted on her, completely and utterly wrapped around her finger. You saw it in the dopey smile he wore without realising whenever he looked at her, the way he made everything he possibly could into a conversation topic just so he had an excuse to spend time with her even though she couldn’t talk back yet, how he already cared so much about her future and who she would become that he let it make a loving little fool out of him sometimes.

As hectic as the days with the two of them could be, whether it was something as small as trying to leave the house on time or something as silly as a meltdown over her hypothetical petty theft career, you wouldn’t change it for the world. And you knew as you watched him sway her in his arms as he prattled about nothing in particular that he felt exactly the same way.

-

[reignpage]

Moon's light

Summary: in which alien!reader gets hurt and Gojo's left with more questions than answers about who you are Word Count: 3k Warnings: angsty, cursing, fem alien!readersome sexual language and references, not proofread and highkey made in a rush >_< Previous Parts: Finders Keepers + Lights Show + Movie Night + Bubble Bubble

Day 32

“Oh no.” He surges forward, falling to his knees. “No no no, E. What happened?”

Satoru had just finished a mission. Excited, he teleported back into his apartment, hoping to see you all cute, sweet and offering some cuddles so he can relax after a long five minutes of serious adulting. What he wasn’t hoping to see, however, was you holding a large knife and bleeding on the kitchen floor.

Wrapping a tea towel around your hand, he cradles your body to his. You’re not crying. You’re not even wincing. Instead, you’re just looking at the blue, gloopy liquid oozing out of the deep wound on your palm. Do aliens of your kind not feel pain? 

No, that can’t be the case; you winced when he scissors his fingers inside your pussy. Forcing a calm voice, he queries, “What happened, E? What did you do?”

You reply, “I hold wrong.”

His head slumps back against the cabinet. This is his fault. He should have taught you better, shouldn’t have shielded you from the kitchen. He should have been here. At home. With you.

When you fell from the night sky, there wasn’t a single scratch on your body, not even a bruise. Perhaps, in the back of his mind, he assumed you were invincible, but now, as his hands shake and he gulps down the tight knot of guilt and shame building in his throat, he thinks, maybe it was just wishful thinking. 

It’s been a month since he met you and you’ve progressed so much. You shower on your own, understand plots of movies without much assistance, you read books, albeit children’s and with pictures but soon you’ll be getting up his level, he’s sure, and even help him clean the house. No longer does he worry about his things having teeth marks from your oral exploration or being randomly flashed because you don’t understand the concept of modesty. The routine has been great.

Maybe it’s this bliss in the routine that led him to a foolish sense of complacency.

“E, you don’t have special healing powers, do you? Like me? With my reverse curse technique.” Satoru’s been slowly trying to teach you about his abilities and the reality of his world but it hasn’t been his priority, what with him being distracted by your hips grinding down on his cock almost 24/7. So, when you shake your head, a little confused, he isn’t surprised. “But you do heal, right?”

You shrug.

The blue blood continues to drip from you, steadily. Inspecting the wound, he wonders what to do. He can’t take you to the hospital; they’ll question your blue blood. And there’s no alien expert to turn to – you don’t even seem to know much about yourself. He chews on the inside of his cheek.

Well, there is one person he could take you to, but there’s no guarantee they’ll be of any help. Maybe they’ll even call the authorities on you. 

This could go very wrong. 

But what choice does he have?

He can’t leave you like this. He can’t just hope your wound will fix itself. And what if you get an infection? Can aliens get infected? Fuck. What if you’re already infected? 

If you are, then he’ll, like, suck the infection out of you so you two can die together. Alright. Don’t get too ahead of yourself, he tells himself. Death is not on the cards. Not for you. Never. Not while he can help it. 

Satoru has no idea what he’s doing. Truthfully, he’s just relieved your blood isn’t acidic and burning a hole through his skin and the floor.

There’s nothing to do but to hope for the best with the only choice he has. Pressing a kiss to your head, he whispers, “I’ve got you, baby. Just trust Toru, alright?”

And in a flash, he’s in a dimly lit room, which smells of alcohol and death. He never wanted to bring you here – it’s a dark side to what he does and if he could have helped it, you would have never seen this. Being a place he doesn’t frequent often, the white-haired man inspects the place reflexively; no danger, no change, and just one unimpressed looking woman. 

“So, the moron’s finally decided to grace my workspace,” she drawls. “How flattering.”

Usually, he’d grin and try to go in for a hug, only to be lovingly punched in the gut and thrown across the room, but at the moment, he doesn’t have it in him to smile and he already feels like he’s been punched in the gut. “Hey, Shoko. I need your help.”

Her dull eyes fall on the figure cuddled up to his side, dripping blue onto her floor. She places her pen down and leans back in her swivel chair, not at all put off to see him here.

Sleeve tugged, he looks down. “Say hi, E. She’s a friend. She’s going to take care of you.”

“Help fix my hand?” When Satoru nods, you frown, mulling something over for a second before your eyes meet Shoko’s. “Hi. Fix my hand now.”

He clears his throat. “Sorry, Sho. I haven’t really taught her about please and thank yous.”

“I’m sure you haven’t, since, y’know, you’re not the biggest advocator of those words yourself.” The man can’t rebut that. “So, are you going to explain what you’re doing here or are you just going to let her stain my floors blue?”

Right. Where to begin?

Moments later, once he’s run through a long spiel, explaining the last month of his life, he presents you to the doctor. Confused, though happy to be here, you just smile at the stranger. Said stranger tilts her head and looks at Satoru. 

“An alien. Really?” She drawls.

“Yeah, I know. It’s weird and unbelievable but true! And she’s not dangerous, I promise. Please, Shoko. When I first met her, she was durable. Like, not even a single scratch. How many people do you know who can fall from space, land on a van and not have a bruise? And now? She’s cut herself and she’s bleeding but it’s blue and I’m totally freaking out, okay?”

Shoko sighs. She does that a lot these days. For a second, he thinks she might wave them away or reach for her phone. None can blame her, he supposes. Harbouring an extraterritorial is a crime, he assumes at least. And it’s not as if she’s doing nothing in her time – she’s even more busy than he is. Shouldering the repairs of jujutsu society can’t be an easy job and there’s probably something to be said about the direction their friendship has taken over the years, though there’s not enough time to get into it. He couldn’t and wouldn’t fault her if she wanted nothing to do with his most recent shenanigans. 

But, if she had decided to make a stand, to get the authorities involved, to dare snatch you away, then Satoru will not hesitate to snuff her where she stands. 

Thankfully it doesn’t get to that because Shoko, the amazing, wonderful friend that she is, beckons you over. 

“I’ll see what I can do. Just don’t get your hopes up; I was never taught about alien anatomy.”

You sit on a stool, being examined professionally like you didn’t come from the stars, like you don’t have blue blood, and a bioluminescent body. Pride blooming in his chest, he smiles. There was a fear tickling the back of his neck that maybe you wouldn’t be so…receptive to strangers. Yet, you’re following instructions well and not chomping at his friend’s fingers for going near your wound. Oh, he’s going to smother you in kisses later.

No step is overlooked. Your blood pressure is taken. So is a blood sample. She tests your reflexes, temperature and dental hygiene. Shoko asks questions — some you can answer with no trouble and others, Satoru has to step in and provide a response.

Leaning against a cold, metal slab, he says, “Her body’s pretty similar to ours, I think. Apart from a few surprises like glowing lights and the blue blood, things seem normal. She does run a little hot inside but I think that’s not too weird.”

Slowly, Shoko turns her head and cocks an extremely judgemental eyebrow. “You’ve slept with her, haven’t you?”

Satoru’s ears heat up. “No! No, we haven’t…done that.”

“Right. So, you’ve gone through the trouble of inspecting her insides for me, is that it?”

“Don’t say it like that, Sho.” He groans. “I wasn’t perving on her or anything. We have a connection.”

Dragging the word out, she clarifies, “A connection.”

“Yeah! A connection. We get along well.”

“That’s so very inte–woah!”

You’ve bitten Shoko’s arm through her lab coat. She shakes you off. You don’t latch off. Satoru lunges forward and urges your jaw to loosen. Guess you’ve been feeling left out or jealous. He can’t say he’s not slightly happy about the possessiveness. It’s quite nice, actually. Wait. No. He should be discouraging this, reassuring you, and defending his friend. Right. Yep. “Okay, okay. It’s alright, E. She’s a friend, remember, baby? Just a friend. Don’t hurt her please. Toru’ll be really upset with you.”

An apologetic look is sent to the woman. Complemented with a nuzzle at Satoru’s comforting palm.

Painfully, he can smell the judgement oozing from Shoko’s pores. Even when she steps back and rubs her sore arm, the doctor eyes the two of them, watching as he brushes your cheek and whispers something soothing against your lips.

There’s no telling what’s running through her head and he doesn’t have it in him to ask. So, he keeps an arm around your body and queries instead, “Got any idea what’s happening?”

A moment passes. 

One could quite literally cut the tension in half, or however the saying goes. 

Then, she sighs. Why does she keep sighing? 

“I only have a theory.” Leaning against the wall, she crosses her arm and drawls out, completely bored, like whatever scathing thought she had about Satoru has washed away, along with all the many scathing thoughts she’s had about the sorcerer, “Her skin is hardened at parts and soft in others. I had trouble penetrating her skin to get to her veins, which aren’t placed where they are in the human body, with the needle. She’s cold in certain patches of her skin and her pulse is irregular.”

Taking note as best as he can, he lets you play with his fingers absentmindedly. You’re not at all interested in anything anyone other than him has to say.

“I believe there’s been an inconsistent spread of something she’s missing in her day-to-day or diet. You hiding her away so you can grope her hasn’t done her any good.” Satoru automatically tries to argue but a sharp glare has him shutting it up just as soon as it opens. “If my theory is correct, then she needs something like moonlight — let it be known that this theory of mine only comes from the movies we used to watch as teens so don’t hold me to that — the longer she goes without this missing thing, the more her body will weaken until her entire skin is soft and susceptible to more cuts.”

He sighs. Oh, great, it’s contagious. “Moonlight? That’s it? She’s a nocturnal plant? Okay, great. That’s easy.”

“Yeah, well it’s only a theory, like I said. If I’m wrong, there’s not really anything else I can do. She didn’t know what the healthy bpm is for her kind or how she got here to begin with; there’s only so much I can do with what you’ve provided me. Normally, I’d run more tests but it’s unclear, and risky, to make her undergo any kind of testing before we know her compatibility with our immune system so try the moonlight thing first and let me know if it works.”

Satoru nods, already tuning her out and excited to begin your healing journey. There’s a new movie he promised to watch with you and he can’t wait for much longer. “Yeah, yeah. Of course.”

“She seems to have memory loss. I don’t see any signs of trauma to her head, but there must be something to explain her lack of understanding and knowledge of her own existence and essence. I’m not sure how communicative she is, but if I were you, I’d start asking questions about where she’s from, why she’s here, and when she’s going.”

Satoru frowns. 

“Thanks for your help. I got it from here.”

And, as quick as he arrived, he leaves.

“Not home, Toru?” 

He shakes his head.

Taking the doctor’s advice, he teleported straight to the rooftop terrace and not into your shared home. If more moonlight is what you need, then more moonlight is what you’ll get. In fact, if he could, he’d give you all the moonlight in the world. He sits down onto a lawn chair and pulls you into his lap. You’re wearing jogging pants and a big shirt – his shirt. Both are pulled off your body, leaving you in just your underwear; maximising the surface area would lead to optimal moonlight absorption and the more you absorb, the faster you’ll heal, right?

It’s a good thing, he supposes, that the moon is full and the sky is clear tonight. He wonders how often he’d need to do this with you. Best to do it frequently probably. Just in case.

In silence, you two sit there, alone and feeling like things are going right once more. You’re nuzzled into his hold whilst Satoru ponders about the last bits of advice Shoko gave. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like it one bit. Who was she to assume he hadn’t been asking questions? 

Because, of course, he has!

Duh.

His curiosity about you is never ending but he can’t rush you. You’re learning so much so fast and overloading you would be the last thing he’d want.

And how dare she talk about you like that?

Like you’re a stray he picked up. You’re a person. His person. It’s not as if you’re an idiot or a child – you’ve got so much emotional maturity and you can take apart his microwave and put it back together. How many people can do that?

And ‘when you’re going’, seriously?

That’s an insane thought. 

You’re not going anywhere. This is your home now. Sure, he’d love to know more about your home planet and its customs, but that’s as much of that as he cares to know about. There’s no return date on you. You’re not a toy on loan. You haven’t been left in his care for babysitting. How silly to suggest otherwise.

“Toru, you okay?” 

Snapping out of his torrential thoughts, he gazes down at you through his blindfold. Gentle fingers pull it off his face and when his dazzling eyes meet yours, bare and direct, he smiles tenderly. “Yeah, E. I’m okay. Can I see your hand?”

The cut is healing. That was quick. Shoko was right.  Already, it’s closing up. The blood has stopped dripping and soon it’ll be gone, hopefully without a scar to remind either of you two how he’s failed you. 

Kissing the top of your head, he whispers against your hair, “You didn’t know about this moonlight thing?”

You shake your head.

“Do you remember anything from your past? From out there?” The great beyond, of which he’s gesturing to, seems so much bigger now. Very rarely did he ever look up there, but these days, it seems like that’s all he does. 

“Not much. Only little. Home looks like Earth too. People look like me. And you. But no monsters.”

He chuckles. “Lucky you.”

“You worry about what your friend say? When I’m leaving?”

Satoru’s chest tightens. Tense and treading carefully, he asks, “Are you leaving? Is anyone waiting for you?”

“I don’t know.” That wasn’t the answer he wanted. He’d been hoping you’d deny it, say there’s no one else, that you’re not going anywhere and you two can be together forever. Is that too naive? Too hopeful? Too selfish? “I don’t remember. Very blur-ree.”

He can’t push. Won’t. Whether for your good or his, who’s to say?

Squeezing parts of your bare body for comfort, he thanks the heavens, and Shoko (he’ll have to send her a fruit basket or a new corpse to experiment with or something), that you’re healing and he’s learnt a little more about you.

Moonlight and food and a proper education on how to handle sharp objects. The list of things you need is growing and so must his ability to provide all those things for you.

He’ll do anything and everything he can to keep you safe and satisfied. Then there’ll be no reason for you to go anywhere or for anyone to take you. You’re staying here. With him. He’ll kill to make that happen. 

Satoru pinches your chin. Your lips part to receive his. The taste of you, the softness, the warmth – it’s all you and all his. 

Nothing could take this away. 

This is your home.

And you are his. 

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hello! I want to say I love your fics- I've been here for a while- I followed you because of your gravity falls fic and now you write for DC- I love your writing so much ❤️ I just love it how you write for most fandoms I'm in 🥹

I haven't really had the guts to send you an ask or anything- this is my first 🥹

But if you are open to it,

May I request the Batboys + Bruce Reacting to Reader being insecure because of having a plushie they had since birth, it has been with them since childhood and hasn't left their side ever since they were a child, it was old dirty and they didn't like washing it because it was sentimental to them-

I have one exactly like It and I'm a bit insecure about it- I never really dated before because I think people will think it as a childish thing-

My friends told me it's fine and normal and it's human but it's still an insecurity-

I like to blab a lot my bad- I love your works again! Please keep writing ❤️ it's okay if you can't write this too no pressure! Sending love!! ❤️❤️❤️

sweetheart, there is nothing wrong with having a childhood plush. you have your reasons for having them and that is all that should matter. It shouldn't be something you're insecure about just becuase of how other people might interpret it, that's their problem, not yours to figure out. you've got a childhood toy, so what? i have one if i looked deep enough in my house for it and it has been with me since i could remember, so don't ever feel ashamed of having something that means so much to you on a level some narrow minded people won't understand.

It's special to you, holds alot of value to you and your friends are correct, it's perfectly normal human thing to have, i promise you it's nothing to be insecure over at all and it's not childish in the slightest. And if anyone says anything, i'll fight them for you!

Jason isn't one to judge himself as he still had that paperback of the first book he had nicked when he was under Bruce's tutilage, sitting on the bookshelf amongst the other books that he has lying in wait to be read again, yet also perfectly showing the framed familiar photo of his younger self and Bruce.

So Jason knows a thing or two about having things that have sentimental values that you just can't be apart from, even if the memories connecting to that thing aren't exactly ones that he wants to ever go back, instead keeping them in memorium of the boy he used to be and knowing that he'd hate the man he had to become against his will.

Jason could never hold it against you for possessing something that helps you and means so much to you. So seeing you look so small as he sees the plushy on your bed made his heart ache, thinking that he had proven himself as someone who would welcome every part of you, much like you have welcomed every part of him.

'Oh sweetheart.' Jason says softly as he holds your face, caressing your cheeks as he gently tilts your head up from looking at the floor and look into his eyes. 'Don't ever be ashamed of having something linked to your childhood, i don't ever want you to feel as if it's something to be ashamed of, not with me as that's not how i want our relationship to be.' He adds as he kisses your forehead, casting away those negative thoughts as far away from you as he can.

'it's not throwing you off?' you asked, looking at him for any lies you may find that he tried to hide, only to find none as he laughs and brings you in close to his chest, rubbing his hands up and down your back.

'Absolutely not.' Jason replied without hesitation. 'i'm staying here for the long wrong sweetheart so i hope your plush is okay with another person to share a bed with.' He adds as he looks over at the plush that flops onto the bed, almost as if it was giving Jason it's consent and approval for him to take care of you now.

Dick will find it sweet that you've got such a plush, he doesn't care about it's condition and would never make it an issue either, it's not his style.

He would want to know how ans when you got it and why it -above the other plushies you might've gotten in your childhood- was your most precious possesion. He'd love to listen to your stories and love the plushy as much as you did, for he didn't see it as just a plushy he only saw it as an extension of you, and he would treat the plushy with the respect it deserved for keeping you grounded and calm for all this time.

Yet when he saw how much you wanted to seemingly leave the second he saw your plush propped up on your desk, greeting you both with it's button eyes and stitched smile that you've been accostomed to for a long time, Dick can't help but feel as though he had done something wrong or didn't do enough to prove that he didn't care about the fact that you had a plush.

'who's this cutie?' He'd ask, wanting to ease you up again, 'they're not my replacement are they?' he adds jokingly as you began to find humour in the idea that Dick was comparing himself to the worn plush you've had since you were little.

'no, they're my childhood toy, hope that's not weird or embrassing.' you tell him.

Dick moves towards your plush and gently grabs their paw as though greeting it as though it was a sentient thing. 'it's actually an honour to see the plush that has kept you protected and secure for a long time, keeping you grounded and providing you a sense of calm when things get too much.' Dick then lets go of it's paw ans looks at you with a warm smile and even warmer gaze. 'it's nothing to be ashamed of, it's perfectly normal and shouldn't have to be hidden to make others comfortable at your own expense.' He finishes as he makes his way towards you and hold your hands in his.

'you're not freaked out? or disgusted?' you asked, still not certain of the whole thing.

'no. my opinion shouldn't matter becuase it doesn't, only yours and if having a childhood plush helps you, then that's all that matters.' Dick tells you as he kisses the tip of your nose.

Damian is going to ask questions but they are purely for learning purposes only.

He would never ever insult you for the fact that you carry something ever since you could speak your first words, so when he is satisfied with the awnsers given to him, Damian finds it honourable that you have something that keeps you grounded and reminds you of home.

He does his research on the pychology behind having a plushy, followed up by the benifits of having one are in order to fully understand why some people would keep their childhood stuffed toys, and making sure that Ace and Titus stay away from your plush at all times in case they mistake it as something they can play with.

He might make a face when he first sees it but it's mainly one of curiosity, tilting his head to the side as he tries to figure out the conection between you and this worn out but heavily loved plush, wheras you were regretting putting it away and out of sight and were about to when Damian keeps you from doing so by putting his hand on yours. 'why are you trying to hide it?' he would ask.

'It's weird of an adult to have an toy from their childhood, it's not soemthing that i should have anyways.' you tell him, pulling your hand from his grip as the empty feeling within you seemed to only worsen as your throat tightned with emotion that you'd let out when you were alone.

Damian furrows his brows as he looks at you and realises that his reaction was taken a you thinking he believes your weird for having a plush, and he was quick to correct this misunderstanding by holding your hand, intertwining your fingers together to prevent you from running away. 'There are research behind this sort of thing, you shouldn't feel regret or shame for having something that helps you and offers support with it's weighed attributes for a more grounding affect.' He begins as he tugs you to his side as he sits you both down on the bed, his thumbs caressing the back of your hand in silence reassurance.

'If anyone choses to raise their voice agaisnt you. Let me know and i shall have them delt with swiftly, for no one should ever spout words of venom at you, not for something that makes you feel safe and secure and in such cases allow me to be another source of reassurance and safety.' Damian continues in the way he knows how, defending your honour by using the methods he was raised to use to his advantage against those who claim it's childish.

For to him they were simply too childish if they couldn't understand themselves.

Bruce will find the plush cute as well, fully understanding the whole sentimentality that comes with having something from a young age, so he's not going to hold it agaisnt you for having a plush as an adult.

He knows the benifits of having a childhood plush and how it can reduce stress and or anxiety and bring a sense of comfort for you that he might not be able to give himself. He recagnises your childhoos plush as a source of calm in your hectic life, something that brings you back to better memories and moments that are attached to the plushy you kept.

So when he does first see the plush he doesn't show much of a reaction, acting like it's the most normal thing he's ever come across in his life, but he could see the hunch in your shoulders and the clench in your jaw that his lack of a reaction was only making your intenal thoughts even worse then before.

'If you think i'm going to shame you for having a keepsake from your childhood, then i haven't done enough on my part to do what your plush has been doing for twice as long.' He says as he looks at the plush and could easily envision you cudiling it agaisnt your chest, easily envison how it brought you down from the most stressful moments of your life thus far. 'You shouldn't have to stress about what i think about it for it doesn't matter, there's psychology and science that backs up the reason for keeping ahold of something from your past, so please don't think i'm against it when i'm actually all for it.' He adds with a small smile.

'you're not wierded out or find it silly?' you asked, still a little unsure of his acceptance of your childhood plush, thinking it to be too good to be true.

Bruce brings you into his side, kissing your temple once, twice as he squeezes your side. 'of course not, this is your anchor, your friend who has been a constant in your ever changing life, something you can always rely on to never change when it seems like eveything is moving at a faster pace for you.' He kisses your temple a third time, pratically cuddiling you to his chest now as he felt you burry into his chest.

'I would never ask you to give up your comfort for me, to put you to in a constant state of discomfort. So please don't feel as though you have to change yourself to appease others for no one is ever appeased, so you're best to staying true to yourself against it all.' Bruce finishes as the plush on your bed seemingly watched you both, happy that you had found someone that was more then accepting of you and everything you come with.

[karikitdemonrp]

Kari rubbed her eyes with a soft sniffle and took a breath. Hawks words and presences had helped her calm down. Sure the pain still lingered, but it didn't hurt as much. "I... I wanna keep going. No, I need to keep going." She chirped softly after a moment. "I can't just stop now. Not yet." She informed and turned back to look over more hero logs for her father.

Training logs showing his improvement, journals that dated before Kari's birth, interviews, news reports, and so on. Eventually Kari stopped on a journal entry dated a few weeks after Kari's birth.

"August 5, I brought Kari home for the first time. She's gained a bit of weight which is good. She's such an active little girl. Kitearo was immediately so protective despite how he acted before. I guess seeing how small she was and having processed what happened helped him a lot. Therapy has been a huge help for all of them. Shade us still sneaking top shelf books when I'm not looking, last time I saw her reading Moby Dick to Kari and immediately stepped in. We made an agreement that if she didn't read these to Kari then I'd allow her to read certain top shelf books with supervision. She's enjoying spending time with Kari, reading her books while she's is in Shade's lap. Boom and Beats always love to play with Kari, running around happily with toys and including Kati in their games. Flo shows Kari a ton of different plants, mainly flowers. Fino likes to have Kari ride on his back while in a random animal form. I feel like these kids will super close when they're older. Sure they'll get into arguments and maybe even fights, but thats life. I'm just happy it looks like things are gonna be alright. Still waiting for Boom and Beats to get their quirks, I'm not sure what they'll be since Mikomi's quirk is so different. She never explained why, but I have a rough understanding. Either way, I've made up my mind and I'll help with hero work in some other way, but I'll be retiring as a pro hero before Kari's first birthday. I can't risk it right now, there is too much at stake. I'll keep doing my best for them. - Lynx Himura."

Kari gave a soft smile then went to type in her mother's hero name and began looking through the hero logs there. Eventually she came across an interview, roughly around the same time as Lynx, though it was off by a few days.

"Hello, thank you for meeting with us, Angelic."

"Of course, I'm glad I could make it work. Been super busy and all." Mikomi laughed. Her eyes, while a different color, were roughly the same shape as Kari's. Though Kari's were a bit more pointed and Mikomi's slightly more rounded. But it was easy to see the resemblance.

"Yea, you've been very busy it seems. Your already the number six hero and you're still pretty young. Any insight as to why you're working do hard?"

"Ah, going for that question already. Fair enough. Well, it's kinda has to do with my quirk being so easy to... adapt to different situations so I can help out in many areas. So I'm able to be noticed more often and so on. That and I just like helping. It feels right to me. Don't get me wrong the money is nice too but I'm not wanting for anything. I'm actually only using what I need and saving the rest for future emergencies or plans."

"You planning on starting a family?"

"Maybe, maybe not. But I'll never let that information slip. I'm aiming high after all. If I have kids and I'm in the top three, their lives could be in danger so I'm keeping stuff like that close to my chest." Mikomi looked to the camera and smiled knowingly almost, in Kari's direction. Kari shivered a bit.

"Thats fair," the reporter hummed off camera and Mikomi looked back at the reported. "Now, about your quirk--"

"Sorry but I'm not divulging information about my quirk either." Mikomi was quick to interrupt. "I know it is different and rather weird but I'd like to keep that to myself as well."

"Ah, I see. Well, what about your relationship with Redone?"

"Oh, I--" Mikomi blushed a bit with a grin. "Well, it's a long story but after moving back from America, I had to go cuz of my mom's job, we reconnected in highschool and haven't really been apart since. He's really sweet and caring. We've been together for a while actually."

"Can we plan on a hero wedding anytime soon?"

"Ya know, I watched his interview last week and I tried asking him when he came by with the sweet buns. He just laughed and told me he'd propose when the time is right. I'm not sure when but I'm sure everyone will be made aware eventually." Mikomi chuckled softly. The interview went on, more questions, some dodged some answered. But all in all Kari got a good feel for Mikomi's personality. Kind but firm, not willing to take bullshit but not rude either. Stands her ground and proud of it.

Kari smiled and went on to find some missions, training logs, and a family tree. Kari widened her eyes. There she was with her siblings, her mother, her father, even her grandparents. There was Maica, Core, Core's father. Her whole family.

Looks like Lynx had two younger brothers one of which was deceased while the other was still alive but no where in Japan and no contact information listed and he looked to be estranged. Lynx's parents were listed too though his father passed away the same year as one if his brothers while Lynx's mother passed two years before Kari was born. Kari frowned, concluding an accident happened that took Lynx's father and brother. She shook it off and opened up a journal from her mother, taking a breath.

"I'm simply writing this so it is on record in case something happens to me and one of my children develops my quirk-" Kari perked up a bit. "I don't know if it'll come to that but dad said it's better safe than sorry. He probably knows something since we share a quirk and all. Thats besides the point. I plan on having this under heavy lock and key until I die or if one of my children requests it or whatever. I'm not the best with formal stuff but I'll try my best. Either way, I am Mikomi Himura. Mother to Kitearo Himura, wife to Lynx Himura. My quirk is called All of the Above. It is a highly adaptive quirk, able to integrate any other quirk upon seeing it, though it takes time. My DNA is very unstable for lack of a better way of putting it. My son's quirk is vastly different to mine. Well, it's going to be, he hasn't developed it yet but I already know. Sir Nighteye's quirk has been super helpful in calming the nerves of a new mother. For the most part at least, but I'm keeping that close to my chest for now."

Kari shivered a bit, having a feeling she knew what Mikomi was referring to but kept reading.

"As for the specifics of my quirk, I'm able to use a quirk I've copied with in a certain length of time after seeing it, depending on the type. A week or two for emmiter quirks, two to three weeks for transformation and accumulation quirks, and four weeks for mutation quirks. I don't just copy the quirk, but a snap shot of the person as well for lack of a better way of putting it. It can be refreshed if I see that person again but yea. Ugh this is more difficult to explain than I thought. Uh, the reason there is a snap shot is because I can call on it to help learn quirks more effectively, they take over my body and I learn through muscle memory. The quirks I have copied as well as the snap shots of the people will be passed on to which ever of my children inherits my quirk but those quirks will be locked until certain things are met, I'm not sure how that all works. Dad hasn't explained it and I haven't figured it out. It's weird to explain and better to show but I don't plan on dying so ill be able to show my kid when the time comes. Regardless, this is just a precaution and I don't plan on needing it. With that I'm closing this journal."

Kari blinked, moving to look through more journal entries. Some where around the time she was pregnant with her siblings. Then another caught Kari's eye.

"It's July 20th today. I'm feeling pretty weak from this pregnancy. Little Kari is really sapping me, but that's fine. I've had six kids before her so I'll be okay. But I'm not gonna lie this one has been rougher than all the others so I'm a bit worried. My due date isn't for another two month so it's fine."

"July 25th, something isn't right. I asked Lynx to take me to the hospital to have a check up. I might need emergency surgery. Kari might be born sooner than expected."

After that journal entry Kari found an obituary for her mother. "Number 3 hero dies for unspecified reasons." It lists the funeral date as well as other information.

Kari sighed softly, going over to Hawks and clinging to him, shaking and crying in weak sobs. She just needed a moment to process it all. "I... I know it's not my fault... but a part... A part if me still... still hurts." Kari hiccuped, nuzzling into Hawks' leg, just letting it all out. "I wanna know her. Who would she have been? What would be going on right now if she were alive? Why did she have to die cuz of me? It's not fair." The child cried, trying to hold back a bit but still needing to let out some emotions before continuing, if she even wanted to.

Hawks stood beside Kari the whole time, his usual laid-back expression softened into something quiet and pained. He didn’t say much while she clicked through the files—he didn’t need to. His hand gripped hers back just enough to remind her he was there, grounding her, steady and real in a space full of shadows from the past.

When Kari tried to lighten the mood at the end, Hawks crouched down a little to her level and gently brushed a few strands of hair out of her face. His expression didn’t shift into pity—it never did. Instead, it was the expression of someone who understood, who had lived through too many ghosts of his own.

“Two pounds, huh?” he murmured with a gentle smile. “And now look at you. Tough enough to face all this head-on, brave enough to want answers even when you knew they’d hurt. That kind of strength? That’s rare, Kari. That’s hero stuff.”

He let the words settle before continuing, his thumb brushing over her knuckles where their hands were still locked together.

“Your dad loved you. All of you. You can feel it in every word he wrote—even when things were falling apart, his thoughts were on keeping you safe. That’s not something a lot of kids get to grow up knowing. But you? You’ve got that. You’ve got him with you every time you use your quirk, every time you snort like he did.” Hawks grinned a little at that, trying to lift her spirit without pushing her too fast.

He then stood and offered his other hand to steady her.

“We can look for more when you’re ready—your mom’s records, maybe some old hero logs. But we don’t have to do it all today. There’s no rush. What matters is you have this now. It’s a part of you, but it doesn’t have to define you.”

He gave her hand a soft squeeze, his wings flexing slightly behind him.

“You wanna keep going? Or you want a break, maybe get something warm to drink, clear your head?” he asked gently, letting her take the lead again. “Whatever you choose, I’m here, little bird.”

[httpknjoon]

the princess and the rockstar | jjk [1]

plot | Once upon a time, there was a crowd-favorite crown princess who found herself romantically involved with a famous rockstar. See how they will try to navigate the world and maybe live happily ever after.

w.c | 3.3k

genres | angst, fluff, modern royalty!au, celebrity!au, established relationship!au

pairing | rockstar!jungkook x princess!reader

note | oh my god, finally. i'm here, it's here. almost took me years to finally write the chapters. this is the first chapter, I just broadened the spotted drabble. but I hope you'll enjoy reading it :)

main masterlist | series masterlist | spotify playlist

[AN EXCERPT FROM THE INTERVIEW]

Growing up in a palace may seem like a fairy tale for most people, but for Queen YN, the Sapphire Palace is home. Born a year after her father was crowned as the king, Queen YN of Zafiro was introduced to the royal lifestyle before she could even learn how to talk.

“I think I learned the royalty’s etiquette first before saying my first words,” she quipped with a small smile. “This might come off as unexpected, but my mother is much stricter than my dad when it comes to our behavior. She was my first teacher in everything and made sure that we followed every rule in the book.”

With her mother’s strict upbringing, Queen YN was already aware from a very young age that she was not just like any other kids in her old preparatory school. She shared how her mother will teach her about royal traditions and responsibility, while her father will balance everything out by organizing a weekly family event like a movie marathon night, where they would just watch films Queen YN and Princess Astrid chose until they fall asleep on their unusually large couch.

“Maybe it was because they grew up in different status of life. Mom always wanted me to be a great example and do no wrong since I am the model for young Zafiroans… But now that I’m older, I thought of it as a result of the scrutiny she got as a young commoner who suddenly got everyone’s attention after marrying one of the world’s most eligible bachelors back then.”

“Isn’t this whole outfit a little too inappropriate?”

Looking up from your sketchpad, you see Astrid standing before you, rocking a themed outfit with her favorite platform boots. She looked amazing and prepared for tonight’s concert, the one she begged you to chaperone her in. But based on your mother’s tone through the video call, your sister might have to change her clothes later. She always does outfit checks whenever someone in the family has somewhere to be, wanting to make sure everyone is well-dressed.

“Sweetheart, I think it’s very much appropriate. They are going to a rock concert for Pete’s sake, everyone who’s coming will be sporting that style.” 

Your father comes on the screen, saving his princesses as usual. You and Astrid shared a knowing glance as you knew what your father was doing. Even though they are a million miles away from their royal duties, you two can still sense the awkward air between your parents’ differences.

“But not everyone is a royal princess, sweetie,” your mother replied, not wanting to back down from her initial opinion.

Now this is where you step in, “Hi, Papa!”

“Hello, my princess.” Your dad waved. “And what are you wearing tonight?”

You stood up from Astrid’s bed, the one you have been lying on ever since the call started, and distanced yourself from the camera to show them the Prada dress you have on. In your mother’s standards, it’s perfectly appropriate. Covered shoulders? Check! Almost knee-length? Check! Classy and graceful? Check! 

Although the dress fits your mother’s standards, you did not wear it specifically because of that. It’s just that you wouldn’t know what to wear to a rock concert, you've never been to one. Your closet lacks the style of clothes Astrid has, and even though your sister is wonderful in what she’s wearing, you don’t think you can wear something like that comfortably. It’s something new, and new is always uncomfortable to you. And the Prada dress is something familiar to you. It’s better.

“See! That’s how I want you to dress up as a princess, Astrid. Very elegant,” your mother told your sister, who’s standing next to you.

Knowing how the comment might make your little sister feel, you gave her a side hug, “Mooom, this is my style, and I think Astrid looks exceptional with her outfit. She’s so much more stylish than I am. I’m sure Vogue will write her an article as soon as they see her outfit later.”

Your mom hummed for a few seconds, “Okay. But don’t take the jacket off when you’re out of the venue.”

You felt your sister perk up beside you, “How about during the concert?”

“Fine, but no taking pictures with the leather jacket off,” she said sternly, but you and Astrid were already smiling from ear to ear.

“Thank you, Mom!”

“Okay, my loves. We have to go now, and I think you two should too. Don’t make your Uncle Eddie wait, you should be ready before 7,” your father reminded you.

No matter how high his position is in Zafiro, he makes sure that his family doesn’t cause any unnecessary inconvenience to his staff members, including his courtier, whom you and Astrid always called Uncle Eddie. He has been your father’s best friend ever since middle school, where they met. They were so close that you and Astrid, the royal princesses, attended his wedding as flower girls, which was the first time that considered to be a commoner’s wedding was considered.

“We’re just going to touch up our hair and makeup. Then, we’re good,” you smiled. “Please take care there.”

“And please get me one of their wool scarves, Papa!” your younger sister exclaimed.

“We will keep that in mind, Dee-dee.” Your father smiled, calling Astrid by her childhood nickname. “Enjoy your night, okay? Listen to Eddie’s instructions—”

Your mother cuts him off, “And Astrid, listen to YN. Okay?”

“Yes, Mommy,” she nods.

After some goodbyes and ending the call, you and Astrid found yourself finishing your looks in her room. Loud music, which you assumed to be by the band you’re about to see tonight, played in Astrid’s speakers while you looked through her closet to find something that could make you fit in even a little.

“Does this go with this?” You turned around, holding her black knee-high boots next to your dress.

Astrid looked back, holding her eyeliner just above her right eye, “Yes.” She grinned, “But this isn’t a country concert, YN.”

You sighed, “Come on, I’m trying. I don’t want to look like a sore thumb in the crowd.” 

“As if being the crown princess of this country is not enough for you to stand out,” she teased, making you roll your eyes. “Wear it! It goes with your dress, and I swear no one will bat an eyelash at your outfit. Everyone there will focus on the sweaty guys playing on stage.”

Sweaty guys playing on stage. The thought somehow made you cringe. What does this band do on stage anyway? You barely have any idea about Sweet September, even though they fill Astrid’s playlist in almost a hundred percent. You only read their name before in a news article about their work with the UN against cyberbullying. But other than that, nothing. Boy bands (Astrid claims they are a man-band, like, based on her words, they play real rock music.) rarely interest you. Starting when you were younger up to now, the only type of concerts you’ve been to were orchestral and jazz concerts, which are more tranquil than a rock concert.

“Do you think it will piss Mom off if I go with a black lipstick?” Astrid breaks out of your stream of thoughts.

��Definitely.”

“Perfect,” she laughed before swiping the jet-black lipstick over her lips.

You chuckled, shaking your head, as you sat on the edge of her bed to zip up the boots, “Can you, like, give me a quick briefing about this band before we go there?”

“Hmm, okay.” Astrid remained focused on the mirror. “So, Sweet September is a four-member pop-rock band that was formed two years ago. Carter is their drummer and the oldest member of the band. He’s usually the more chill and caring one, like an old grandpa,” she laughed. “Then, we have Woosung, who’s the sarcastic one. He plays the bass guitar and also produces and writes most of their songs. There’s Mingyu, their lead guitarist. He’s the funniest one and like the co-founder of the group. His sister was dating Carter, who’s now like his brother-in-law.”

“And who’s the other founder? Carter?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest.

Astrid shook her head, “No. That would be Jungkook.”

“And what about him?” you asked after the sparkles in her eyes got brighter.

She had to pause and look at you. “He’s the lead vocalist. Also, their frontman. Really, really talented, but one of his main skills is like pulling new fans into the group. So be careful out there.”

You chuckled, figuring that she was probably just exaggerating over the guy, “Is he that good?”

“Oh my god, YN. You have no idea. He’s the face and the voice of the band! I personally love Mingyu, but man, Jungkook can easily make me switch lanes if he wants me to. That face? With that voice?! He’s God’s favorite.” Astrid went on before squinting her eyes at you. “I swear, if you see him perform tonight, you’ll get me. You might even fall in love tonight.”

“Yeah, right.” You stood up with her heavy boots and checked yourself out in her full-length mirror. 

The boots feel different, but you’ll get used to them. Hopefully.  You don’t have a pair since you usually opt for shoes and sandals that complement your dresses and other formal wear. For tonight, for the sake of fitting in, you wanted to mix Astrid’s fashion style with yours. Even a little.

“Your Royal Highnesses, Sir Edward asked me to tell you that your ride’s waiting outside,” a royal servant knocked on the door.

Astrid picked up her leather jacket while you reached for your purse. Smiling at her,  you asked, “Let’s go?”

A thin sheet of smoke almost veiled the ‘No Smoking’ sign in the green room as Jungkook took a hit from the freshly lit cigarette stick between his fingers. He exhaled slowly, hoping that every drag would calm down his nerves. 

“Hey, that’s not allowed here,” Carter comes in with his drumsticks in his hands. “Tara will kill you if she knew you’re doing that.”

Jungkook shrugged nonchalantly, “Just one.” 

Carter, being the big brother he is, picked up something in their youngest’s behavior. He knew Jungkook did not smoke regularly. The last time he saw him smoke was earlier this year during the launch of their second album. Twirling his drumstick between his fingers, Carter sat back on the sofa.

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Jungkook shook his head. “It’s just it’s a first show for this tour, and my heart’s already exploding.”

“Alright, that’s okay. But the moment you hit the stage, whatever you’re feeling will be gone anyway,” the older smiled, tapping his shoulder.

Jungkook smiled, but his shoulders remained tensed. When the door swung open, he immediately soaked the cigarette in the soda can on the table. He quietly hoped the air diffuser in the room would clear out the cigarette smell to avoid their manager’s reprimands. But it was Mingyu who came in, unaware. He has his eyes glued to his phone.

“Do you think they’re coming?” he suddenly asked, looking up at Jungkook as he sat next to him.

Jungkook raised a brow, “Who?”

“Zafiro’s royal family.”

That made the lead vocalist and the drummer chuckle, which offended Mingyu, who got defensive, “Okay, I am not being delusional here. But I think we all know that the younger princess is a big fan.”

“Doesn’t mean she’ll drag the whole family here,” Carter laughs, shaking his head.

“You never know… And you,” Mingyu points his finger at his best friend, “Don’t act like you will not be delighted if Princess YN shows up here tonight.”

The name is not new in Jungkook’s ears. Hell, even in his head, Princess YN is not a new visitor. He knew a few facts about her than a normal person would, but he can justify that by saying that she was (or is) basically his recent fascination. Is four years ago still considered recent?

He knew you were the same age as him. You have been in the limelight so much longer than him, and probably handle the attention much better than he does. He is aware of the royal protocols. Or that one Vogue article you wrote to raise awareness about Zafiro’s rising jewelry exports. You have your advocacy, just like any other royal family member, but something about you stuck with him the first time he saw you in a magazine interview clip years ago.

He remembered replaying that short six-minute interview over and over again, where you talk about things that Jungkook usually finds boring. But the smile that glows on your face as you tell stories pulled him in.

“She won’t,” Jungkook mumbled confidently, but he could feel his fingers itching for another stick of cigarette.

“You two will have your own entrance and exit spots. Ronnie and Ben would accompany you two to the entrance and would meet you at the same gate after the concert.”

Your father’s trusty courtier, Eddie, guided you and your sister on what you’re supposed to do. There were rules you had to remember, so you listened carefully to make sure you won’t forget a thing. Especially since Astrid practically begged your parents not to have bodyguards with her for tonight, wanting to feel that sense of normalcy for once.

“Is that all, Uncle?”

Astrid already had her arms crossed as she asked that. It’s been fifteen minutes since your car arrived in front of this secret entrance to the concert. But because of the King’s instructions, you two were held up.

Eddie smiled, noticing your sister’s tone, “I know you are excited about this concert, Your Royal Highness. But His Majesty still has one last message… and this is a very important one, so listen.” Your sister sighed, you leaned forward to hear whatever his about to say, “Please remind my lovely girls to enjoy the night amidst my tiring instructions. Take pictures and sing along. I would love to hear stories from them about this very important concert, based on what my Astrid said, when my queen and I get back from our short trip to Scotland. Follow what your Uncle Eddie says.”

A small smile formed on your lips with that. Finally, Eddie lets you two go with your bodyguards until the gate. Then, a nice concert staff welcomed you into the venue and led you and your sister to your seats.

“Oh, my god. I cannot believe Papa let us come here alone,” your sister said as she slipped the Xyloband into her wrist.

“I know…” Your voice trailed off when you heard the people singing along to the song playing not too far away. You turned to the staff,  “Excuse me, is the concert starting already?”

“No, Ma’am. We’re just playing the band’s music videos before they perform on stage. But they will be performing in a few minutes.”

You nodded with that. It didn’t take long for you to get into your seats. The seats are not that close or far from the main stage, and it’s in the center. For safety purposes, your father and the security team agreed not to put you two in the floor area where you can see the band better and closer. Nonetheless, you knew Astrid would love any seat she would get in this place.

Since you heard from Astrid that the tickets were sold out as soon as it’s started selling, you assumed your father pulled some strings to make this possible. It made you wonder even more what’s good in Sweet September. Other than Astrid's introduction earlier, you made an effort to read a couple of articles about them, and you later learned that tonight is the start of their world tour. You learned that they have a huge following in your country, and fans petitioned for them to visit Zafiro, which resulted in tonight.

“Oh, look at that! Look at those signs!”

Your sister was laughing while she pointed her finger all over the crowded arena. The joy on her face was enough for you to smile. But still, your eyes followed where she was pointing. Each sign has big, bold, easily noticeable letters and words. They were aggressive and funny, with one of them asking to put oil on the lead vocalist’s body. 

What was that supposed to mean? 

You wanted to ask Astrid, but she was already talking to another fan who was sitting beside her. The fan seemed surprised and delighted at the same time when she locked eyes with you for a second. You just smiled. As a highly-regarded crown princess, you know that they least expect you to show up at a rock concert next to them. You then turned to your other side, where you immediately locked eyes with a lady who seemed a bit older than you. She instantly looked away and slowly looked back after a few seconds, thinking that you were not looking at her anymore. But you are. And you can tell who she is by her awkward aura and stiff movements.

As part of showing respect to a royal, a commoner cannot talk to you unless you speak to them first. So you decided to say something in a mumble, “Did the King hire you?”

You don’t want your sister to hear it. You want her to focus on the fact that she is free from your parents’ overprotectiveness tonight. You can read the hesitation on the woman’s face, but you can already tell that she is a secret security agent Eddie hired.

“It’s fine. I understand,” you gave her a reassuring smile. “Please, enjoy the concert too.”

The woman nods and bows subtly. Turning away, you see, Astrid had already made new friends. They were taking pictures and talking about their excitement for tonight until one of the girls told her,

“It’s a surprise to see you in here, Your Royal Highness.”

“Please, just call me Astrid, or you can add that princess title if you’re uncomfortable with calling me by name,” she quipped, and they laughed. “Actually, the King only let me come here when Princess YN agreed to accompany me.”

Her friends’ mouths all formed into a small o. You waved at them, and they bowed their heads. Suddenly, the lights slowly dimmed down, and everyone began screaming– including Astrid. To say that your sister is excited was an understatement. It’s like she slept with a hanger in her mouth with how wide she’s smiling. Your cheeks hurt for her. But you’re happy to see her happy.

Taps on the microphone can be heard before someone clears their throat, building up everyone’s excitement. You stood there, just listening to them and observing.

“Everyone, welcome to the denim jungle!”

Someone began playing a good riff on a bass guitar. The band’s silhouette is recognizable on stage over the thick, white smoke. In the first beat of the drum, the lights snapped open. There, your eyes spotted the lead vocalist. His hair is damp for some reason, yet it goes perfectly with his mostly dark outfit.

“Zafiro, let me hear you scream!” he growled into the microphone.

A fucking growl. A growl that basically popped everyone’s balloon, releasing a thousand screams and cheers from everyone in the Crystalline Stadium. Everything is so loud. You’re finding it hard to breathe. You can’t breathe, but you are enjoying it. It’s confusing. The screams. The instruments are playing. Your heartbeats thumping. 

“I swear, if you see him perform tonight, you’ll get me.” You clutched your chest as you heard Astrid’s statement from earlier in your head. “You might even fall in love tonight.”

Oh, no.

additional note: i understand if some of y'all want to be removed from the taglist, it has been so long! feel free to reach out if u want to be removed <3

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[werezmastarbucks]

U N17

U N7 masterlist 12/14

word count: 7708

music: life goes on by agust d

warnings: stalker stalking, violence, Yoongi's pov present. how y/n goes about handling a stalker is the WRONG way bc she's delulu

author's note: enter deus ex machina. if anybody knows how to write it avoiding the trope, hit me (with a shovel)

you don't wear the green tea perfume anymore; switched to something sweeter, fruitier and bolder. you like expensive perfumes that last on you, so that you can sense them yourself; otherwise, what's the point? Yoongi doesn't seem to be smelling different these days, at least not the last few times you've seen him. it's the same home-yanking woody citrus smell. he is very steady.

you leave the window open checking if the mosquito net is stuck tightly. the late June air is so sweet it makes your heart want to sing. Yoongi and Jungkook think alike, sending you messages at the same time. but they are of very different nature. you haven't seen him since May and don't have the impulse, the stay in Seoul was overwhelming and uncomfortable. the sex hit too close to home, and you even got a nasty feeling like he was crumbling a little. every time the train crosses the fine narrow line at the border of Busan, it's like a mechanic voice in your head says,

you're safe now. you're in the safety zone.

and all Seoul troubles fade away. you're strong. you're responsible for your life. you don't need anyone. the light is soft and mellow, sun is shining at the right angle, and the green streets lined up with fruit trees welcome you home. this is you. a hundred years of exhaustion and heartache slip off of you and leak down the drain taking the nightmares with it. all is well and if this was a book ending, it would be short and sweet. all is well in Busan, no zombie apocalypse for now, days long and sunny in the summer, seagulls yelling in the skies and people walk the streets smiling, breezy, their kerchiefs flying away slowly in the wind from the strait.

so no, you don't want to see him. you don't want the darkness that he brings to your mind nowadays. don't want to engage in the exhausting business of trying to find the balance between loving him and coming undone at the seams. you don't want the burden. he is too pretty to look at without getting tired. because he is the closed chapter that you lost the key to. he is the chapter that never belonged to you and yet you are burdened by the weight of a finished relationship that never transpired.

Jungkook says that something big's about to go down. your hands start sweating. it's been in the air for a while.

you pour yourself some lemonade and look around your shoulder at the pear trees outside. they stand in the glimmering evening mist like a picture from a book of tales. you think you're going to be okay now.

you turn on the live where Jungkook is sitting with his hair in the knot on the back of his head and counting until ten.

"you gotta hurry", he laughs, "let's make it ten million before i say ten. run, beautiful, you gotta run".

he is having a lot of fun lately in his fan interactions. he has always been confident and funny, but these days it's like nothing can hurt him. it's a dangerous notion, bordering a delusion, but he has this foundation under him. without having his experiences, you have no idea what it feels like to be this invincible. you think ten million in ten seconds is a bit of a stretch even for him, and he only makes four and pouts, chuckles, embarrassed. people keep coming. he begins with the usual muttering about nothing.

"kind of forgetting how i used to do this thing".

his eyes are reading comments attentively. they are opaque black with the lack of light.

"what i've been doing? this is what i wanted to talk to you about".

he stretches, then rubs his face, the smile not leaving his lips. he is nervous. still has time to change his mind. you are worried, too, but you have natural paranoia that's been riding you all your life, so you usually try not to overpress people with your concerns.

he talks a little more, comments on others' projects, yaps about the city and Jimin, gets distracted, zones out, giggles, goes to pour himself some alcohol. "Yoongi hyung doesn't drink anymore", he cheers the air. you are surprised. people still keep coming, the chat is as usual, a running waterfall of words.

"this is very important to me", he gets serious, "i want to tell you guys because you are my closest people. i know you understand what i mean", he's all business, as serious as he is with the people in his life. Jungkook is very sincere about the fans and always means what he says. in turn, they respect him and fight for him. it's unlike Yoongi who treats them a little like children. a little like loony siblings.

"i think you get that i am not just a boy from Busan anymore. by the way", he gets very close to the screen, making his funny face, brows together, as he checks the viewers.

"anyway, we have been talking with the hyungs about it for the longest time, and we all see how grown we are now, we're like, adults. i actually have been an adult for a while, and our dynamic is a bit different..."

his eyes get concerned as they move quickly, reading.

"we're not disbanding!" he cries out, "we're not disbanding. just... don't jump to conclusions. we're not disbanding. we will be together for a long time. but..."

he sighs, clearly not knowing how to put it. how do you tell that? twenty million people are catching his every word on live. now, twenty-two. he has broken his own record from back when he was even more famous than now. life getting quieter your ass. you realize you're not breathing like he's about to jump off the cliff.

"well, anyway, two years ago my son was born", he just says, simply. and goes quiet for a second, pressing his lips closed too late. there's still a smile in his eyes, a happy smile that is there when he is sharing something important.

"and i am so in love with him. i have a family. my son's name is Taeyang. i want you guys to call him Tae like we do", he bursts in chuckle. the chat becomes the volcanic vent. messages come so quickly it starts glitching and eventually breaks down.

"oh".

his phone buzzes. your shaking hand is lying on the table as you watch him intently.

"oh, my English teacher has texted", his face lights up in a smile. "Kookie Pookie, you're doing great".

he facepalms at himself at reading it out loud.

"oh, wait, you were never my English teacher".

he is having a bit of a breakdown, giggling, his head deep in his hand. his body is shaking with laughter. once the chat is fixed, it's full of pink and purple hearts.

this sends ripples over the internet. half of the world at least is shaken to its core. Taeyang is a June baby, a Gemini. Jungkook tells the fans about it the next day after his second birthday. and it creates a chasm between the past and now. someone leaves. for months, it's unreal being on the internet. some people are having meltdowns, others have parties. all in all, it goes better than expected. for bts, it means a completely new chapter. they have been free for a while now. ever since Hybe started needing them more than they, it, they have been slowly breaking down the stigmas. at first their clawing for the success was desperate and unrelenting. now their journey to independence has been slow, methodical and calculated. a little money on the side here and there, collaborations with artists from other studios, a little bit of disobedience to test the waters, middle fingers from the stage. the stronger ones were in the avant-garde and the others perching them up in the backs. stronger ones meaning Yoongi, Jungkook and Taehyung. now they are the first ones to relax and finally start enjoying their lives the way they want. buying houses with their own money. changing hair the way they want to. date people. you hear Taehyung has a permanent boyfriend he's been dating for almost a year. and yes, he does look a little like Jungkook, but he's way more feisty.

Jungkook is the impatient one when it comes to the parasocial aspect of it. he wants people to accept it and move on. he wants to not lose them over this, and the real ones don't get lost. that's all he cares about. he doesn't show Yuri or Taeyang but only mentions his name, and that's enough to breathe a little deeper. life hasn't been as beautiful for him as it is now, and that is considering he has always thought he was lucky. long story short, Jungkook is very happy. he feels fulfillment. and he definitely doesn't regret grabbing you by the hips on a rainy night in Prague almost ten years ago. he must think of that night a lot. you know you do. you feel connected to him like he is your biological brother.

Yoongi keeps the iced Americano between his knees and removes it as soon as the glass starts warming up. sunglasses keep the hair away from his eyes as he balances things in his hands: bag, coffee, cap, his phone. he checks the calendar and his eyes scan for the empty spots. no need for more than five hours. he's getting restless. summer has been making him jumpy. plane takes only one hour, he can be done in another three hours and drive to the airport and be back in Seoul by three in the morning. he doesn't usually text hi or what's up, just sends the info like you're a colleague:

"29th Friday, 1st of July, 7th of July, 15th of July".

he gets an almost immediate reply. looks at the watch: Jungkook has started his live. by the time he gets out of this car at the store, the world will be a little different for them all. he will probably be met by the long, screaming faces. demanding: and you???

"i'm busy". "i can move things around". "don't".

he must have fucked up by being alive again. sometimes you look at him like you wish he were dead. not in a mean way, but in a regretful way. that's new, and it's a bad sign.

the car trudges down the wide street and he can see the store doors open for him. people neatly lined up behind the purple ribbons stretched up to the entrance. he throws the cap aside and ruffles and grooms his hair to an agreeable shape. he would have cut it all off but he knows you like it this way. so, it's simple.

"you're busy all four evenings?" "yes". "why?" "because i'm fucking busy".

he leaves the car and puts his phone in the back pocket of his jeans. slides the glasses down onto his face and the smile plasters itself, working for him. you might never love him again and he needs to come to terms with it. he has to accept - he is waving his hand shyly, as usual, turning right and left, pauses for a second, bows to them - that this might be the end.

as the space around him warps, reforming itself into a new era of bts, his most precious asset, he is getting used to the reality that, he thinks, you must have lived with already. being rejected stings in a new way, not because he's never been rejected before. of course he was. he was rejected in ways that are intricately cruel, by Riko. Riko, Riko. he needs to stop thinking about her. he hears she's getting married for the third time; outran him there, too. she is an old crust that doesn't bother him anymore, a life lesson in being too kind. he has to go on live streams and say that no, he is single now. there's no one occupying his mind. Jungkook's exodus has set the new rules and the new intimacy for them and the fandom. like a rock cascade, Jimin and Namjoon come out about being in relationships as well, and now they have two new lines: taken and single. it's messier than people think. Jin is pathologically not capable to be in a relationship; he is having too much fun with his life and career, and keeps talking about the fruits. he likes to be admired and nobody can admire him well enough. Taehyung is actually taken but isn't ready to go into details of his life. Hoseok is a gentleman fuckboy enjoying his persistent youth. Yoongi is clinically unavailable, cursed. he doesn't text you anymore and you don't text him and he is trying to draw the lines around him limiting his new environment. he knows life goes on even in radio silence.

until all shit storm of circumstances comes together: on a July day, he has to go back to Daegu because his mother's cousin is dead and Holly is sick; expecting the call from the vet, he keeps the phone on sound, and that's why he doesn't miss a message from you when it lights up on the screen. a call, after weeks of absence, in the sea of dry notifications:

"i need you".

this is how quickly it changes. despair replaces hope, then hope overtakes, it must be a draining existence. he is pondering for several seconds, his eyes targeting the words, until, in the next message you send him something that doesn't sound so simple anymore: a geolocation link.

you're getting your evening portion of lemonade. can't do anything about it, for the last year you've been living a lemonade life. bubble teas and coffee are in the past and now it's the citrus era. it's so nice to walk a couple of kilometers from the designated coffeeshop on a late July evening when the sun simply refuses to set down.

the evening crowd is getting more and more evened out, rare couples are having dates at the tables by the windows, and the rest leaves. you wait in line as usual, music in your airpods, picturing how your night is going to unfold: you want a movie, a bath, to sit by the windows and look at the pear trees like they are your pets. the cat is probably walking around the garden right now, he really likes being outside in the summer and sometimes he even leaves for a couple of days. but he always comes back.

always comes back.

you notice the eyes watching you from the end of the line, and don't hold the contact for too long out of habit. but then your brain slowly puts the pieces together, like it starts clicking. it's happening gradually, taking you on the road of past memories where small and insignificant interactions now make more sense.

Kim Seongjun, you now remember. the last time at Hybe, about a month and a half ago, he looked pretty let down when you said you don't recall his name. you found this reaction peculiar. you must have seen him two or three times. but you were wrong.

the guy who you always bumped into in the corridor on the way to a lesson.

the guy who almost always went to the gym at ten in the evening, always third wheeling there. the sound designer, your brain always said. working out quietly by the wall.

the guy who helped you hang up the congratulations poster on the wall of Hobi's studio when they returned from America with a Grammy. heavy breathing at your shoulder.

they guy who kept noticing you although you didn't notice him, distracted by others. by Yoongi. too distracted to see that he's always there, at the lunch time, when you were leaving, in the foyer. you even rode in the elevator once.

Kim Seongjun. sounding so similar to Jin's full name, but he can't be further away from him. high shoulders like a bull's, thick eyebrows and ears placed on uneven level on the sides of his head. he stopped you at the corridor at Hybe in May. he said, oh, y/n, haven't seen you in a while! his smile died as soon as your face turned into an akward expression. you felt a little guilty, now you understand why. he saw you but you didn't see him. he smelt you once. he knows where you used to rent an apartment.

you turn again to make absolutely sure it's him. yes. the same expressive round eyes, like a squirrel's. looking at you from under the cap intently, not the way strangers peek at each other at a coffeeshop. he's keeping the eye contact, so you raise your brow to let him know it's a problem, then you make your order.

he lingers at the end of the queue, letting people through before him, and turns his head to follow your movement as you walk away from the register. he isn't really going to order anything. you see the last light throwing the dark sunrays on top of the roofs across the street. now is the hour of sunset. in five minutes, the streets will become bleak. you sit by the wall, claiming one of the many unoccupied tables and take out your phone.

you can call the police, but there's nothing to tell them. i think my ex-colleague, who i am suddenly realizing just now might be my long-time part-time stalker, has followed me to Busan. yeah that's him, his offense is that he wants to lick my pussy and take me on a date.

you consider people around as well but something stops you. while the brain is thinking, the hand actually already knows. there's no moment of hesitation as you open a chat and text Yoongi. you keep yourself casual, don't rush your movements, keep your head high to be able to see his blurry silhouette at the register. he turns around and pretends to study the menu screen. you cross your legs, sip a little of lemonade. he isn't leaving but isn't approaching either. he is the ink spot against the colorful interior.

"i need you".

you send him your location. it's a strange formulation but you don't feel like screaming help. nothing's happened yet. your paranoia has been your friend and your enemy. your mind is completely not okay in general and you don't always trust yourself. most importantly, the memories kick in. of discomfort and irritation, of vague fear when you found a bunch of flowers right at the door of your apartment. he's only left you messages three times and there was no way to take it seriously. boss definitely didn't.

maybe it's a coincidence. maybe he just looks a lot like Kim Seongjun. but why is he staring again then? you hope your face is not flushed.

as the memories of that time kick in, so does the habit of searching comfort in Yoongi even when he himself isn't aware of it. Seongjun was there actually, while Yoongi was training you the ways to fight him. it's comical. he must have even heard your conversations about him.

"i think it's Kim Seongjun the sound designer. you remember him?"

Yoongi is taking it slow although you see the messages are being read.

with how the messengers are built nowadays you even see him leave the chat for a minute. he must go to the Hybe app for employees and look for him. Yoongi understands everything without extra explanations.

he doesn't say anything snappy, he isn't sore or sulking.

"you're sure?" "55% sure".

you have no idea what you actually want him to do here. it's not like he's going to...

"stay there. i'll be there in 30 minutes". "??" "i'm at my parents' house".

seems impossible. Daegu is a hundred kilometers away. then he adds,

"do NOT provoke him"

if anyone in the world knows how badly you want to punch someone in the face at least once in your life, it's Yoongi the boxing instructor.

you look at the time on your phone and start counting. still trying to keep your face looking like you're scrolling instagram. if that isn't a sign from above, you don't know anymore. it's seventeenth of July, he's been somewhere around two days ago, so what's happening now? it's like shooting blind and accidentally striking the bullseye.

he is approaching now and you act normal because you never know what people actually want.

it's definitely Kim Seongjun though; he's wearing the same shirt as in May and the same buzzcut with shades on the sides. keeps sharp sideburns that make him look like an anime character. you stare because he simply sits himself down at your table.

"remember me now?"

you're silent. the indignation rises in you and you have to clutch your phone, begging yourself not to explode right here. he scartches his temple with the dry working finger. hands unmoisturized, not elegant and with sweet pink knuckles destined for a piano. your own knuckles recall the familiar awesome pain of the heavy punching bag. even if he is a little late, you promise yourself to get a piece of this jerk tonight.

"Seongjun, isn't it?" you ask, cautious. you pretend, only half-way, to be surprised.

"took you long enough to memorize my name", he mutters. looks like he's feeling the eyes of the whole coffeeshop on him. also paranoid. great soil for going crazy. you don't like the hostility and heat in his eyes.

"well, you did scold me last month, so now i remember".

he nods. staring into you intently. his eyes slip down to the phone in your hand and you loosen your clutch.

"Seoul is far away from here".

"yeah, so?"

he raises his eyes to you. there's no doubt about it now.

"you think i can't stand up for myself?"

Seongjun scratches his neck slowly. either he's lost his job or sound designers don't have to see coworkers because he has this bristle on his neck going up to his chin. dark, spotty like he has tried shaving and gave up. a person in a state of mental distress, you realize slowly. suddenly, the coffeeshop doesn't seem so safe anymore.

you look at your phone. it's been five minutes. there are plenty of ways to keep him away. you could simply press the emergency and the siren will shatter even the windows in this place. the street is getting grey outside, marine birds flying low above the ground.

"i don't want to hurt you. but you piss me off so bad".

you're taken aback.

"do you even know my last name?"

he pierces you with his dark, unfriendly eyes. the kind of glance men used to give you back when they were boys and you pissed off everybody. you used to like to piss the boys off because they are usually stupid. grown men are way less irritating, they don't provoke and don't say silly smug shit - at least the men you actively choose to be in your life.

you realise that you have so few friends, and absolutely nobody in Busan. that your only best friend is Yuri and you don't know if you can still count Jimin as your number two, because you are not his number two anymore, and fairly so. somehow every Bangtan boy, once you leave his life, gets better. Taehyung gets himself into a stable relationship with the right gender, Jungkook becomes a father, and Jiminie follows. Hoseok only got richer these last two years and Jin simply got even more attractive, forgetting that people are supposed to age. Namjoon seems happier than ever without worrying about you all the time. and Yoongi is the only one who is a mystery to you. maybe he is the only one who feels your absence.

meanwhile Seongjun pronounces your last name, your birth date and your Seoul address, and then hits you by reciting your Busan address, too. you have no idea how long he's been here. whether he's looked into the windows of your apartment. you lean over the table. the time is crawling slowly. it feels like it has stopped.

"and what exactly did i do, may i ask, to anger you so bad?"

he meets your gaze bravely, eyes open only half-way. there's black circles beneath, he's chewing on his lips and looking at your mouth as he says,

"think you can do much better than me? been ignoring me forever".

"you should've been more intense", you hiss, not without a twisted joke in your words.

"i've been there and you never noticed me".

now he wants to get romantic. you throw yourself back on the chair. Yoongi isn't writing anything else, the phone is dead silent.

"oh, i know how it feels, believe me", you feel jaded. almost sorry for this awkward guy. he's massaging his hands on the table.

"yeah, pretty pathetic. but now we..." his eyes get glassy like he suddenly feels the pills kick in. "both are free, right?"

your brows shoot up.

"i've always been free".

"no", he says simply. like this piece of idiot is now going to be careful with his words to you, offer you the chance at dignity by not stating what he noticed while watching you for how many years?

"four years you worked there".

"i thought it was longer. what took you so long? could've come here and chop me in pieces a while ago", you poke him, then continue sipping your lemonade.

Seongjun shifts in his place.

"you're not the center of the universe".

your hand lies on the table.

"wait, you're telling me i am not even my own stalker's first choice?"

he gets flustered. angry. his brows crawl down to hood his eyes. square jaw gets tense. he didn't like that word. you feel the adrenaline kick you in the head stronger than a shot of vodka would now. you can't stop yourself.

"you're telling me you've been cheating on me with other girls?"

his nostrils flare.

"why aren't you responding to me?"

Seongjun's voice gets down an octave, resembling a rumble. a very different rumble, brutal, with less nuance. he is way too manly. he is way to big for you... you notice this too late. he's a big dude. used to measure people in Jungkooks, he has about 0,9 Jungkooks in him. he doesn't have the strength in his back though, slouching. his neck is exposed nicely. you know you're taking too much upon yourself but there's nothing else to do. it's been twelve minutes.

"don't call me that".

"call you what? a stalker?"

the corner of your mouth twitches.

"what else do you call a guy who leaves pathetic messages on the whiteboard and sends flowers saying he wants to lick my pussy?"

he knows you're mocking him. even his stupid face takes the expression of confusion. like he's saying, are you dumb? you won't even call for help?

he has no idea you have the unhinged inside of you, that's been waiting for its turn your whole life. every girl has that. not every girl is unlucky enough to get a chance to let it loose.

he takes a deep sigh like he is finding his patience.

"let's get to a clean slate".

"oh?"

he nods.

"you won't even choke me or anything?"

Seongjun is taken aback.

"why... why would i choke you?"

"um, because that's what stalkers usually do in movies", you finish you lemonade in one big gulp. the ice clinks inside.

Seongjun chuckles, dropping his chin down.

"i did want to hurt you before. do awful things to you. you were so arrogant".

you literally used to sing little songs to people at Hybe when you were in a good mood. and crash into closed doors. for some reason you hate it when people get the wrong impression of you. it makes you grit your teeth not to let a whole lecture come out of your mouth.

"but i am a better person now".

"honestly you look worse than before".

his eyes rise again. it's a rollercoaster. you don't know what you're doing. the frustration that you felt back then is coming back. the audacity to treat you like a sex object, immature pickup lines circling around, only one thing bothering his imagination. and the tone of voice, like he knows you.

"what? see, i remember you. i remember you used to go to gym with us".

"with you".

"with us, that's what i said".

he crashes his fist on the table, and the glass clinks again. a couple smooching over at the window turns to you and looks. you nod at them and motion to Seongjun.

"crazy stalker".

maybe they will-

the hit comes so quickly the world tilts upside down in a fraction of a second. see, that's the problem, if you do stupid shit, you get hit with a table.

for a moment, you can't breathe. a girl shrieks shortly somewhere; it's bells in your head. you have to come round quickly, your brain is on high alert, so your hands start getting you up before the vision returns. the head hums like a metal tube once and starts working again. face is burning. it's like getting out of bath and cracking your skull all over again.

the sling bag heaved up high on your chest actually saved your nose, pushed onto the table like a tit, and not letting you hit it all the way. instead, you feel the burning cut on your forehead, whether it's actual of perceived. blood is trickling down. suddenly, it's a whole different genre of a scene. your eyes open wide as you jump onto the table. instead of fear, rage kicks in. life has fucked you enough. Yoongi always told you to run away from the fight. to keep your head low. that you need to be smart, not hard. but guess all his advice got punched out of your head because you've had enough with these Korean men. hierarchical, patriarchal, smug, dismissive, condescending. you put your knee on the table and launch yourself at Seongjun who is more than ready for you. the cashier is a small girl, not bigger than you, who is hiding behind the register. the guy who is still in the coffeeshop by this time, together with his girlfriend, is a typical local: doesn't get involved. most people don't. they are too scared to get hit with a lawsuit should the fight be happening between spouses.

Seongjun, instead of catching you, pushes you away and then, as you fall on the floor from the table, laughs, grabbing your neck. but now there's finally a window for action: you're at his feet. you punch him in the nuts as hard as you can and, once his hand drops, you get yourself up and start running. phone is left on the table.

"call the police!" the girl by the window screams at her boyfriend. you sway from side to side, the blow on the head still clutching you violently. push the door and yank yourself into the empty, dark street. this is the household district and all action is happening at the center of the city. this is why you like this coffeeshop. there's nobody here at this time.

step by step, the blood is loud in your ears, adrenaline shaking the eyeballs, only keeping you dizzy instead of giving you energy to run. Seongjun is right behind you, slamming the door shut and following you.

sometimes running away seems hard. you run away often. metaphorically mostly. maybe you should've invested into running on the treadmill instead of just walking at the elevation. your feet carry you as best as they can, but Seongjun doesn't have a concussion so he can walk a straight line. the blood is sipping into your eyes and drops from the tip of the nose. his hand on your shoulder, pushing you aside and banging you into the metal surfacing of the shop closed for the night. your foot gives out and the ankle twists, knee bending onto the asphalt and of course catching your body from falling face down, but it scrapes the skin badly. it's like he is not a real human but a scripted villain; but then again you are not surprised because cheesy villains always have the real life prototypes.

it's getting pretty sticky, you think. the street is quiet and beautiful, the lights already lit and giving the illumination to the purple wisteria trees on the sides. you don't wanna die here. you shake your head, hands on the ground, as you steady yourself. Seongjun's hand is on the back of your neck possessively, and your nasty character kicks in again. one thing you probably value more than your life is your pride. it's an unpleasant and persistent instict that always complicates things when they need to be simple. nobody has the right to grab you by the neck unless you want them to. your arm flies up to grab him, but he slaps it away, and you play submissive for a moment, trying to open a window for escape. you can hear him breathe heavily, like he did during the waiting at the Grammy party. seems like you should've known, but it's an illusion of retrospective. you can taste the asphalt even though your face is not on the ground; thick, sweet and salty air of Busan summer is making you stronger, keeping you in an adequate mood, not letting you panic just yet. you fall on your stomach to startle him a little and he can't really see you well as he's bowing above you.

"look what you are doing", Seongjun murmurs. his voice drops a tad, he squats and his grip on the neck loosens. you don't think about Yoongi, can't let your brain lose the focus even for a second; you know he's far away, and it's somewhat a relief because you don't actually want him to get caught up in this. you behaved incredibly stupidly just now, letting your anger disproportional to your skill take over. let him mourn your stupid ass and move on.

as Seongjun bends his knees to squat, he loses about 50% of his balance, and you kick. he almost falls forward, catching himself on the ground, and you crawl violently, scraping your skin on the rough asphalt, from under him. burning sensation kicks you awake and you jump up and start running again, but get blinded by the lights. you can hear him rush after you immediately and head for the car, because it's better to be run over now. it gets a little windy, easier on your burning face. you fly towards the light like a moth, taking a little to the left to circle around it, and your heart drops to quiet when you see Yoongi emerge from a dark green Hyundai. your eyes adjust to the contrast of light and darkness. you move on, crashing into the side of it, the metal door meeting you as another hard, unwelcoming surface, and finally fall on the ground in a lump. Yoongi steps around you, eyes focused on Seongjun behind your back, as he raises his arm. heavy, cracking blow follows, and Seongjun gasps breathlessly, collapses on the road like a cardboard copy of himself. Yoongi ouches quietly, shakes his whole arm like he got zipped.

you pant so hard that everything is doubled. hands clutching your knees, palm dirty and stinging over the open cut, you feel the nasty pain but your brain fails to register what exactly is bothering you. people finally come out from the coffeeshop, and a scared female voice calls:

"i called the police".

"great", Yoongi replies breathlessly, "they can revoke my license right away".

he really did make it in thirty minutes. roads were empty, and he was going two hundred, he said. in a 120 maximum zone. his hand is rubbing his neck absent-mindedly. you force it to make your way to the police first to be done with Seongjun and make sure they won't let him walk in two hours after you leave. you can see Yoongi through the open door behind the officer's back, sitting by the wall on the hard iron chair, phone hanging from his other hand. no idea what he's thinking about. he's pretty. he's getting prettier by the minute since he knocked Seongjun out with one punch an hour ago. your head aches like hell, the spot at the roots of the hair pulsating where it hit the table. all things considered, you look worse than you feel. scraped knees hurt much worse now, plus, the shock starts kicking in. not even the scare that Seongjun gave you, but the strange vulnerability at being manhandled so aggressively. being pushed and punched like that, you like your whole self and feel sorry for yourself for being hurt. you keep answering the same questions over and over, almost automatically, stealing glances at Yoongi to keep you calm. his phone rings, and he starts staring somewhere away, in the direction of the reception. he gets angry. they did warn that, without extra evidence that Seongjun had stalked you like, years ago, in a different city, he will be let go until further notice, depending on how this case develops, if it even does. Yoongi's words ring in your ears, and you have to bite on your lips, thinking of the tone of his voice as he said,

"you know i can murder someone and pay my way out of it?"

you hate that you totally forget to not care about him now. now he is the safest, pushing his hair back in a familiar motion, sighing with his cheeks, knees spread apart, the assaulting fist working open and closed. he had said, fighting should hurt. you move your eyes to the officer's face mouthing words at you. you're finally done. suddenly tired, you feel like you have no capacity to argue, pressing the folded cloth a nice lady had given you, wet with cold water, to your head.

"home".

he sniffs, irritated.

"you might have a concussion".

"home", is all you can muster. adrenaline is gone, and pain reigns all over your body. you can't handle another couple of hours in a brightly-lit hospital, surrounded by more people asking questions, administering injections or whatever, you don't want it.

he opens the door of his car with a swing, this is the angriest you've seen Yoongi, ever. his jaw actually moves sideways like Namjoon's. he looks away, doesn't press it further. incredible how, when you're in the presence of an adult, he lets you choose, actually.

"what are you mad about?"

he tilts his head forward and pouts angrily. your leg is shaking, the little nasty pain in the cut is worse than the dull big pain in your head. Yoongi makes you take two pills of a strong painkiller. he keeps blowing on the knee that he's cleaning; no idea how you scraped it that bad and managed to get so much dust into. it must be the dry, rainless street and all that crawling around.

"nothing".

you hiss and notice tragically that he reacts every time; dabs become lighter. he dabs and rubs the cut the way people usually work on his face. it's fun noticing things like that, where he learnt them.

"you'll just tell me i am victim blaming you".

you chuckle through another huff.

"i did provoke him. hard".

"why'd you do it?"

"i don't know, maybe i am dumb".

his eyes study your face for a while, somber.

"or something worse".

he leaves the knee to rest for a while and gets to your hand. the inside of the palm is less injured, but also grey with dirt.

"and shoulder?"

"stop fussing", you ask. his brows shoot up. you see he takes it as an opportunity to release a little frustration.

"you think i'm overreacting? you're bleeding from your head".

"still?"

you raise your other hand to the head and touch the pained spot. a little bump starts forming and you reach for the bag with ice resting on the mirror shelf.

Yoongi suddenly sighs. he lets go of your palm midway, clutching the pad in his fist as his elbows rest on your knees. he drops his head on them. this is him finally exhaling for the first time tonight. hiding his face in your knees, his shoulders go up and down with deep regret. you want to apologize out of habit but you know there's nothing to apologize for. you're just glad he was there on time. your injured hand lies on the back of his head you used to know so well. remember every instance when he had dyed strands of hair peeking out here, now it's all natural black-brown. it's nice against the scraped skin. you still can't take what happened worse than the physical damage; you know the ptsd will kick in later, and the fright of being stalked might never settle. maybe it's just how you are; you've felt so cosy and protected while living in Seoul, you were surrounded by such loving people that you completely lost your caution. take this one: teleported from another city and ended the fight just at the right moment. and you are more concerned now about how his hair feels under your hand than about the concussion. you've had concussions before. you've never fallen in love with the same person twice.

Yoongi helps you into the bath where your body relaxes and the small abrasions sting, fresh, burning you, and keep you awake. the uneven ache at the top of your head is lulled down by painkillers. you think you're hearing the baby pears ring in the yard and tell him about it.

"pears?" he asks, eyes wide open, "ringing like bells?"

you give a small grin,

"it's probably just in my head".

Yoongi puts one hand on the edge of the tub, and his pink knuckles tense. they are slightly redder from the punch. he gets in your face.

"look to the side. now to the left. do you feel sick?"

you feel sick of his care. you don't mind him near, quite enjoy it, but his voice is too concerned. he lost his usual cool, and you know if the roles were reversed, you'd be even less collected, fretting around him. you shake your head no, something in his hand keeps drawing your glance. his phone rings and you can see it's his mother.

"Holly's sick", he says suddenly.

"how bad?"

"he's old", Yoongi replies, serious. he wipes one hand on the towel, still clutching the edge of the tub like it can slowly drift away from him. you sink deeper into the water, gritting your teeth, flinch with pain. he speaks with his mother quietly and you keep looking at his hand. it makes you angry. but more powerfully, it knocks the ground from under your feet. you'd rather still be in Seongjun's clutch than realize this now. it takes a specific life and death circumstance to shake the whole snow mountain awake. this is the hand that has the death grip on your throat. you've achieved nothing. nothing has been solved. he jumps out and does you a favour, and the timer is kicked back off to zero. all your effort, all the feeling of freedom, the determination to feel happier, gets smothered by this hand. his voice is a low, comforting rumble jumping off the walls of your bathroom. you move and place your forehead to his knuckles, close your eyes as tears release themselves onto his skin. it's all pointless; you love this hand too much and a little break just meant this love has grown and transformed into a deeper feeling. whatever that means. there's no escape, he feels and looks like a husband, sitting with one knee up, silver rings in his ear tugging on the tired earlobe.

Yuri snuck away from Jungkook for a moment, wrapped in her wedding dress like in a beautiful, sugary spider web, getting lost in her long veil and the flying sleeves. there's bright youthful blush on her cheeks, she's coming undone in front of him and understandably needs a second to gather herself. your bridesmaid dress is silky and yellow, her favourite colour. the color of Jungkook's voice.

he is striking, effortlessly magnetizing. you rest your eyes on him while Yoongi is a blood spot, making you anxious.

"you think it's fate after all?" you ask her quietly. someone snaps a pic of you two, huddling together, gossiping. Yuri doesn't drink so she has a glass of zero per cent champagne in her hand.

you feel too insecure to admit you acted completely blindly, acting out the delulu until trululu scenario you manifested for each other.

"because i'm starting to believe it".

she sips and nods.

"yea, i believe in fate", she sounds drunk. this is the most deliriously happy you've seen her. all exes are forgotten. all rainy days kicked to the side. "her name is y/n".

the picture of that moment is still in the favourites folder on your phone. the moment when Yuri called you fate. meaning, you are inevitable. you were inevitable in Jungkook's life span. your will to marry your best friend into wealth and exciting life was unavoidable. you always acted like that was the intelligent, highly-calculated plan you've had all along, and not a drunk fluke, a sudden enlightenment and a funny prank. "look who i picked up at the bar, lmao"

now the real fate has smacked you on the teeth. you think it's inexplicable otherwise, other than by fate. life really went on, huh. it released you of the shackles of anxiety about him. look, you withdrew from Yoongi and just continued living, and the parasite of love didn't vanish but retreated into the depths of your mind, like a shadow enemy or a habit. it's a bit tragic and very pretty to think about, how badly you wanted to survive and did it, changing at your own volition. it's such simple words that carry this genius truth: life goes on.

"it's okay", he says. Yoongi thinks you are finally coming to grips with the reality of what happened, finally feel the fright. you move your head slowly on his palm, gathering his little warmth.

"no, it's not okay", you whisper. Komangi the cat enters the bathroom and rubs his body against Yoongi's thigh.

it was never going to be okay, because Yoongi is beyond okay. he is the dream. the looming inevitability of your life.

the sleep hammers you into bed. you can't even move to find a more comfortable position, just switch off almost immediately. the last thing you see is the love of your life drawing the curtains, knowing that the sun will rise in several hours and burn your faces, like it did before.

taglist: @ktownshizzle , @benyhime , @ryryvna , @amarawayne , @mar-lo-pap , @lili-spots , @kiki-zb

[alexanderlightweight]

Normally in almost every dark malec fic i read magnus is written as cruel towards alec,he hates alec (either it's based on the books or tv show i guess cause alec made mistakes in both that caused their break up)

And magnus literally tortures alec but is friendly towards alec's family members which i find odd

And this isn't a shade to those fics while i don't like what's happening in some of those stories i read them like and addict or just stop reading it if it bacomes too much for me

İ love that while you write dark and gore you still make magnus in love with alec

so i feel like it might be because i write dark malec to highlight their love? like the whole appeal of malec for me is you have these two people who really have no reason to be interested or so deeply affected by each other but they are.

there's something instinctive and primal and so intense it immediately cracks through years (decades in Magnus' case) of protective walls for the both of them.

i feel like a some people in fandom tend to forget or ignore that this is alec's first romantic/sexual relationship and that its not like he has a lot of friends either. magnus is also his first confidant out of his family.

and then others or the same people also either forget or ignore that while magnus has had a lot of relationships, opening up his heart to others has rarely gone well. like he has centuries of scars and wounds on his heart and soul. it's been one raw and reopened scar never fully healing and yet magnus decided to take the risk of that wound refestering.

so you have someone who has never opened up their heart (but its been wounded and sore all the same) but wants to because this person is worth it to them. and you have another person who has repeatedly opened up their heart (to sometimes catastrophic results) but they think maybe this person is worth the risk.

so both sides are taking risks. just in different ways. which makes it intense and take effort and also hard.

also since the appeal for me (yes as an aro/ace i too think this is hilarious) is their interest and adoration of each other, it doesn't really make sense to me to write it otherwise? like the whole thing of canon is they are mutually awestruck by each other. that's what really hits me. also the intensity of both of them orbiting around each other. i can't write them disliking each other. even when they're on opposite ends of the battlefield they have mutual or at the very least begrudging respect for each other even before they meet. and after they meet its pretty much alec is like 'how to end war? how to flirt with handsome magic man? how to stop bigotry so i can date a warlock? patricide unacceptable answer apparently' and magnus is all 'how to obliterate the clave' 'how to force peace and also change laws' 'how to woo angel blood without being stabbed' 'how to kidnap someone politely? 'how to heal if you're stabbed with adamas while acquiring future spouse?'

and for the type of fics you're talking about i have seen them and kinda know what you're talking about. i'm not gonna say anything about them tho because i have no actual relevant opinion. i don't read them because they'll trigger me (hence why my opinion would be adversely influenced, meaning i have a pre-existing bias which needs to be considered) and everyone is free to write what they want. there's no shame in that.

i just learned a long time ago that i could accidentally self-harm by reading fics that triggered me and my health cannot take more stress, so i just block authors (doesn't hurt them and protects me). same with how i hope people block or at least ignore me if my fics aren't safe or healthy for them to interact with.

so focusing just on me (which wow does that sounds kinda silly as it type i out) i guess it's because even when magnus is cruel in my fics there is a purpose to his cruelty? he's not cruel for the sake and enjoyment of it like say, Camille, Lilith, Asmodeus etc.

Magnus has been shown to always be harshest on himself as well. Like even in a world where he follows incredibly skewed ethics, i feel like just pure cruelty is too boring for him. Like he would expect better of himself, not necessarily on a moral standpoint but in a 'really, you think i humble myself to the same level as my father?' kind of way?

also there is also a whole section that can be talked about where certain forms of cruelty and kindness are actually two sides of the same coin. so there is some nuance there as well about how i handle cruelty because sometimes magnus is cruel in order to be kind but that's typically still, out of his love for alec even if it's skewed. or he does something out of his own sense of kindness that is technically cruel. magnus' goal is never to fully diminish alec in any fic i write, even the fics where magnus (because alec is also a manipulative little shit in fics) is manipulating alec or purposefully pushing buttons he knows are cruel, he's doing it to help (in his opinion) free alec from ties/the clave/things that 'don't deserve/are hurting/could hurt him/might keep alec from him' etc.

the goal is never to hurt alec. it's to save him and sometimes in order to heal, you need to experience pain. which is how magnus and alec both justify their cruelty to themselves and each other often. especially because again, the goal is ultimately the benefit of the other person.

i think the main thing is that there's never any doubt - or at least i try to make sure there isn't - in my fics that they both want each other and the best for each other. maybe it comes about in a darker or less ethical way in some of my fics, but the main purpose of the plot is never to hurt each other or to inflict damage that will linger and wound.

also malec in generally is an unreliable narrator in my fics. the reason i tag 3DNE even in the lower levels of dark range, is because i i write and promote extremely unhealthy levels of codependency, dom/sub dynamics and obsession that cannot safely exist in the same levels in the real world. i also write about intense topics but i generally do it in... not a sanitized way? but a softer way? so i think some of it gets a little smoothed out by the humor/affection/etc which also like, this kinda of behavior shouldn't be normalized or seen as safe. i'm not promoting actual cannibalism or kidnapping someone to be your spouse lol

and again (because i get similar comments on ao3) is that when I write malec my goal is for them to be happy and healthy even if the world they live in isn't and by normal standards their relationship isn't. i want them delighting in each other and even if it's depraved, doing whatever they can to give each other the best of the world and help them be the strongest version of the person.

i just have very specific preferences and tbh i repeat tropes and cliches and my little happy niche a lot because i know what i'm comfortable with and enjoy. also i have the personal preference of two predators maybe not always equally matches but both incredibly dangerous in their own way, meeting and then creating an ecosystem that works for the two of them. i also like gifted/earned submission rather than purely forced?

and it's shown in the show that Magnus mostly helped everyone because 1) to get them to stop stalking him and endangering his people 2) to keep appraised of the situation and 3) Alec. which might actually have been the main one. and Magnus' heart got cracked open from Alec and he started to make friends with those around Alec trying to get closer (the jokes and present to Izzy).

I feel like Magnus wouldn't really care orhave anything to do with them or be very interested or so generous with them other than information reasons. and without alec, i don't think his heart would have thawed enough. in a way, alec makes magnus more vulnerable than either realize and it's not alec's fault.

but it is a result of Magnus meeting and loving alec and because alec doesn't realize this, he often can't step in and help magnus set boundaries magnus stopped making in his journey to woo alec. so in fics where magnus already has a relationship with alec or doesn't need to 'woo the family' so to speak, he generally doesn't open up to them or try to connect with them the same way.

in some ways, this is Magnus distancing himself because he will want to be able to join alec when (because i only write immortal husbands) he mourns them, but also he's not going to be overwhelmed with grief himself.

i got way off track there.

so if you know about the Addams' Family media, which this eldritch delight is based off the vibes of that, i feels like that's what true dark romance is. however it did get a bit sanitized and played up for comedy, so actually just a lot of my malec is inspired by that intensity but without the sanitizing and so much comedy.

i mean. these two are so intense about each other.

Alec summoned a greater demon. Magnus tried to erase his own memories.

They are not well, okay? they are two dumb men in love. they both are super high intl and high wis until it comes to each other and then their wisdom drops to 'i'm going to destroy everything to make this one thing right!' and typically its for the other person, so the only being who could stop them now can't.

i hope this makes sense? i feel like i rambled a bit much and now i'm not even sure i properly answered the ask but i enjoyed the ask?

like... i just really can't imagine magnus being more than like, bitingly petty and sassy and sarcastic to alec and like threateningly yes?

but like even if alec was on the other side in a more intense universe and magnus was the one interrogating him. magnus would just pause in the middle of threatening alec and be like 'it's a pity you're so pretty. i can think of so many things i'd rather hear from you than your screams of pain.'

and alec is just like: please go back to threatening me. if you compliment me i'll break and that's just not fair. this is both the worst and best time of my life right now.

magnus picking up on that and coming back in his most dangerous flirty outfit and sitting on the table in front of alec, legs spread to accommodate the chair alec's sitting on and alec is just like: can you bring out the potions again? or the fireball? i really miss the snake that breathed fire omg please don't get so close i will never live it down if i break because a magical man kissed me

magnus: but imagine what i could give you if you were good for me? wouldn't you rather be a good boy for me, alexander?

alec - fuck the clave they dont even like me, i definitely don't have a weakness for this man and a praise kink that just activated - lightwood: ... okay yeah. lets get this over with please. i want to collect on that promise.

*shrugs?*

i hope this makes sense and you enjoyed

<3 lumine

tldr: the whole reason i love malec is because they adore each other and i'm incapable of writing them otherwise plus rambling.

[asprinkleoftism]

Shuichi Aizawa Headcanons

I have been meaning to do this for a hot minute and these are just personal headcanons of mine. Feel free to agree or disagree with them and I hope you enjoy! :) Matsuda is next!

Tags ✨️: @aizawashuichi @shujiaihara

Plain burger guy

Due to the stress of the Kira investigation and problems with family at home, Aizawa would want an inkling to start or does start a habit of smoking cigarettes to help with the stress. But the second his kids start noticing the smell on his suit is when he quits and to mask the addiction he keeps a toothpick in his mouth and/or chews on it. He has stabbed himself in the mouth more times than he could ever count but its better than the cigarettes.

Listens to every genre of music known to man. He will jam out to Frank Sinatra, Slipknot, Katy Perry, the whole nine yards.

If he wasnt a detective, he would either be in opera, specifically a tenor, (thanks @shujiaihara for this one) or a high school teacher or professor.

More so likely picked up drinking after the timeskip but not anything borderline alcoholic levels.

Likes dark colors.

Will do tea parties with his daughter, no questions asked.

Has mild road rage in traffic. (Credit to @shujiaihara for this one). Nothing extreme but he will definitely cuss you out and shake his fist at you. Its especially worse if his family is in the car with him.

Drinks coffee black.

Not a big sweet tooth. Will enjoy a muffin or cookie every once in a while but nothing like L.

He is muscular under that suit. Not anything crazy but he definitely tries to work out in his free time.

Number One Nap King. Will pass out during breaks or if its slow just from leaning back in his chair.

Grows his afro back after the Kira case is done since he has extra time to take care of it.

Is allergic to dogs. (Credit to @kiyomitakada for this one and thank you @aizawashuichi for looking!!) that if his kids want a dog he will get them a dog. It just consists of just stuffy nose and sneezing nothing death worthy

Despite his annoyance towards him, Aizawa would genuinely care and want the best for Matsuda. Babysitting privileges, perhaps? 👀

He tosses and turns most nights when trying to sleep

Despite being stressed about the case and work, he is good about not 'bringing work back home' and can seperate work and home life.

Book worm. He loves to read. Specifically imagining him after a long day and he is chilling in bed with a lamp on, reading glasses with a book open.

Going off from previous one, I feel like his sight gets worse as he gets older so he has to get reading glasses. (Does anyone else imagine this or am I crazy?)

He would like outdoor hobbies, fishing, hiking etc., to help him empty his head and clear his mind due to work.

Likes the sound of rain and thunderstorms

Despite the stress from work, he doesnt grey out early. He just has that great of genes.

Beach day? Hell yeah. Boat day? Hell yeah. He would be the one to drive the boat and would not let anyone else do it. (Despite Matsuda's relentlessly begging to do so)

Kind of involves everyone but I truly believe after the Kira case and everything goes back to mostly normal they all get together once a month for an outing with their families. They have all been through a hell lot so its only natural for them to do that. (I honestly may do a beach day headcanons for all of them)

Scotch and whiskey drinker

60s Toyota Crown as his daily

Car guy!! Aizawa would know every make and model out there to ever exist and loves working on vehicles and just learning about vehicles.

Going from the previous one, I feel like when he retires from the force he would work and restore vehicles on his spare time.

Would apologize for his outbursts

Best dad ever. He would do anything for his kids.

Can't stand fast food. Despite everything he does try to maintain a healthy diet.

In Canon he is 6'0 but honestly would be 6'3.

Intimidating as hell to any newcomers and is rough around the edges at first but comes around and is easy on the newcomers when he realizes they are serious about their job

Periodically checks in on Matsuda, especially after Light

[lllunaverde]

𝐈𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐍𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 | 𝐍𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢 𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨

Problems rose after you let Professor Nanami had his way with you that none of you wanted to resolve.

DEFAULT TAGS: BYI / BYR❕I WRITE AND SUPPORT DARK CONTENT, THIS WORK IS NOT DARK, THIS TAG IS ONLY A WARNING TO NOT DISAPPOINT IF YOU DON'T LIKE SUCH OR AN ANTI || anyone is welcome to read my works but all my y/n / readers are afab, fat / plus size / chubby and of color, always. whether it's heavily described in my works or not.

CW: 9k words. heavy nsfw. reader is 25 years old. nanami is in his late thirties. inspired from X | X by @szarina

NOTES: reposting my old works with a bit of tweaks.

©lllunaverde, may 2023

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Nanami has been through some shit, he really has been. Piles of works, sure. Dealing with people, sure. Deadlines that he sometimes rushed to meet, students he had to deal with, putting up with them because he wants to, not because it's his job, but still he wants to be a good teacher to them even when his work is currently shit.

But to see you at the back of his class, hiding, avoiding him, ignoring him—was torture.

Nanami, of course, had to what he does; teach. Write on the board like he didn't almost write an explicit word because he was thinking of the time he had you wreathing on his desk. Speak of what he wrote and fight the urge to look at you. Read the remaining bits of his lesson in the book he holds, like his voice is not threatening to crack from how he was recalling how you taste, your cum that he drunk so well. His nerves so high, he had to stop his reading midway, loosening his tie while clearing his throat.

To top it all off, what you wore today is a tight fitted and high wasted jeans, a long sleeved turtleneck. You were hiding, he can clearly tell, how can he not? But of course, that didn't stop your own body to show itself; ample thighs, round hips, belly rolls and round shoulders were hugged so well by the stretchy fabrics. He had a good sight of it when you walked into class, though ignoring him, no less.

You were hiding, afraid, frankly it was still all too distracting and yet it bothers him that you were hiding.

Fucking hell, yes, it really was a torture. So that's why his class ended fifteen minutes too early. A win for everybody, of course, they fled with no complaints or even questions like children excited for recess. And with you; being at the back of the class and having an idea where this was going, you hurried as well, though subtly, well you tried to be. Pulse suddenly all raised as you noticed the room was already cleared.

Nanami stood there leaning his waist back on his table, eyeing you as you just gathered your things and started to walk the stairs. Adorable, he thinks. And such a good student you always were, hands fill with books and other things. He can't let you out of his room without having any resolve.....well, whatever resolve he deemed it to be.

Your eyes only on the ground as you knees and feel the man was staring at you with such gaze that you knew it'll make you want to just fall down on the stairs. As you stepped down on the last step.

"Y/N." Nanami called. Stopping you before you could take a turn. Eyes still on the ground, a view of his polished shoes, clutching your things so tightly on your chest as he stepped away from the desk. "Put your bag and all of those on my desk." He spoke, walking away to lock the door as you heard.

Why did he have such a hold over you? How could you just let him stop you from walking away? Allowing yourself to let him, it was undeniable. Were you that weak or he's that strong?

But if anything, you couldn't be possibly be blamed for it, even if you do blame yourself—because afterall....you've always found your eyes on your professor lingering ever since the first time you stepped foot in his class.

For a simple person you are, seeing a man as he is—you looked. But of course, too much you did and left you in a predicament. Where you found yourself having a smile as you got ready for the day and on the way to campus until that smile went wider when you reached the class you're most looking forward to having. Your heart leaping when he walks in, your back straightening with your smile you tried to keep down, and with your mind that tried its best to focus. Slick you were with showing that you're focused by asking questions that he always answered fluidly.....and because of that, you let yourself indulge that he was maybe too eager to answer you, mind imagining things that a naive person would only do.

And that you were, too naive, too indulged in your own world that you didn't notice he was indulging himself as well. Too naive to not see he had already seen you sighing a smile with your chin on your palm, to not see he held amusement and smugness in his eyes and to not see yourself would be sprawled out beneath his tongue.

Reluctantly, you followed. Still, your eyes are only to his shoes as he walks back to you until the distance ceased to exists. Nanami felt guilty for feeling powerful above your anxious figure, really he did, but the tent growing in him would say otherwise, you could say that was what he was most guilty about.

He holds your chin, soft his touch was as he turns your face up to him. From the calmness of his eyes were, you had your answer, he really is strong, and you were nothing of that within his presence. "Did you not want what happened yesterday?"

Let's be honest, who wouldn't want their fucking hot professor's tongue deep inside them?

"...I...I wanted it..." You couldn't lie.

Relief fills him but there's a few things that remains. "And do you regret it?"

You gulped, hands unclenching and clenching, unsure of the answer. But you spoke before he could, "I'm...I'm scared."

There was many things you could be scared of. His furrowed expression turns soft, another hand of his goes to your waist, caressing it. "Of what?"

How could he be so cruel? You were naive, you realized that, but not too much that you hadn't seen his desire and nothing more. How opposite you feel.

Indeed, there are many things you're scared of; getting found out that you affiliated yourself with the esteemed professor and all that comes after the dreadful happening, of allowing yourself to have his way with you. But most of all, you were scared because you're already feeling for him. How stupid you are.

And surprisingly to you, some anger brews in you because how cruel he really could be? Being so gentle and attentive while backing up what he only truly needs.

You shake your head gently, the hold on your chin gone, your eyes turning away from him, putting your hand over his on your waist to refrain his hold that was weakening you. "I don't...I don't know.." It turns out you could lie.

Nanami only kept you in place by sliding his free arm to your hips and he leans down. "Do you want this?" Filling up his needs, whatever that may be.

But if he had seen you having a dreamy look before then it's not too much of a stretch that he can say he knows what bothers you. He's not blind, however aloof he seemed to be, in fact it's quite the opposite, actually—that's why he had and took the chance to swept you off your feet.

Nonetheless, he's still a man, despite that he resents such a person would do....he's still a man; weak to his desires. And afterall....you'd benefit off of it as well, no?

What a bastard he truly was. You felt played. But were you really played or you're just that naive? The notion still stands. As your eyes was on his chest, you washed the anger presenting itself by replacing them with nothingness. Had enough of showing too much. Needless to say, you can't deny that you want what he was asking, no matter how shallow it is, no matter how irritated you are. You still want him.

You meet his waiting gaze but even so with your decision, you couldn't answer.....rather you refused to give him that satisfaction. So you give it to him by locking your lips to his.

Nanami sighs, tensed muscles easing as he mirrors your actions; sloppy and fleeting kisses while his hands roams to your thighs before his arms hooked underneath to carry you to put you on his table. Glad that you laid your things just on the side. He hums a guttural sound as you raked his hair, pulling on them while he deepens the kiss, tugging you closer to him on your hips, your legs locked onto his back.

You dip slightly and he follows forward. His defined and hard body against your soft one, his suffocated cock on your cunt, you feel how hard and big it is that it was so easy to grind on it. Sending a shocking pressure to both of you, your moans being swallowed by one another. Nanami thrusts to you, meeting your moving hips, your jeans just riding up tightly, allowing you both to feel your heats just more. Lips not breaking away but only tongues dancing together, his hands now on your ass to help you assault his cock more and with yours on the sides of his neck, fingers digging on them.

The kiss was turning sloppier; lips dripping with drool while your heads bobs up and down just to meet each other's lips. But your pace underneath was getting hurried, Nanami's pelvis was now hitting your sex like a damn nail, moving no different from how he'd move to drill his cock into your cunt, making you falter but that didn't deter him and just surprised you with his strength by pulling your weight upward so he could ground his cock more onto you. Your things making noise as it moved along with you two. Lips not on each other anymore but you're just dazed with your head a little thrown back while he only trails wet kisses all over your face, finding yourselves nearing the edge.

Tired and aching muscles, you still grind against him weakly while he's still fucking strong as ever. With the strength you can muster, you clenched your limbs onto him as he rutted again, making him stop and clamped down onto you as well. He kept his sinful groan with pursed lips, but even so, by how deep the rumble in his chest was--it made no difference. You came both at the same time, your head now deeply laid back in the air while his is buried in your shoulder. Bodies all tense but still slowly moving to ride the high, essence spilling out, soiling your underwears, continued sounds from both of you.

Still in a trance despite that his high came down, Nanami began to explore you, hands kneading on what he can while he goes to your lips, holding the back of your head with his big hand as the other just continued to grope you. Loving how pliant your flesh was against the fabrics. And you, out of it the moment you came, was surprised to say the least. Barely able to keep up with how needy he was and just as when you were about to call him, his phone rang; telling that his class has truly ended fifteen minutes prior, an alarm that you were familiar with because sometimes he gets carried away and lose track of time.

But of course, he just continued bombarding you with his kissing and groping. You knew if you didn't stop him, there was a chance he'd have you bended over his desk to fuck your brains out, there was no doubt in you that he had thought of that before. The thought made you flinched your fingers tightly to him.

"Sir," you called and to no avail just sealed your lips with his. If it weren't for the severity of the situation and new found opposing feeling for him you'd laugh of how needy he was. You pulled away and yes, he follows but just to your face again, and how fucking glad you were that you're wearing a turtleneck for by now if not, you'd be full of marks.

Nanami fucking grinds himself to you again and for the first time, you let out his name, "Kento," in a moan it came out that you didn't intend to but it broke him out as he stilled. How great it came out from your mouth, and only then he realized your moans earlier were nothing but just incoherent sounds, what a waste it was. He'd have you say his name soon enough, to cry it.

The ringing of his phone was stopped as he turned it off, not even taking his eyes off you as he did after he sat you properly. Heaving breaths you controlled as you take your eyes down, not wanting to see his hazy gaze, see how satisfied he was. Instead you closed your eyes and leaned your forehead to his, while he rubs your thighs softly. "...I should get going," you muttered almost breathless, before you could look up to him, he pulled you by the waist to put you down gently and then you looked up to him after. Taking your hands off of him and tried your best to stop your limbs from trembling. And a mistake you thought it was for he puts a hand on your face, fingers gently rubbing the skin, "Hmm...yes, take care." He mutters too airy, eyes nonchalant again but the way he held it was soft.

There he fucking goes again with his cruelty. You wonder how he wields what he will and you wonder if it was your or his fault that your tears fall as you walked out of his classroom, feeling so stupid, that you know how he was taking advantage of what you hold for him and you resent yourself for relishing in the pleasure. Whatever was left with your pride, it made shame come crawling though you.

Nanami....he was, of course in a different spot......God, what desperation can do to a man....the sounds of prevention mute to his ears and just wanted to continue, the ending envisioned with you bended over his desk to fuck your brains out. If it weren't for you calling his name, he would have risk it.

Yet no shame in him, no guilt he can feel that course in his veins, no anything but the rush of aftermath....and that again, he was guilty of. He sighed, exhaling deeply as he crossed his arms, heads up--he'll have to go clean himself up first before another class begins.

The day went on with minds trying not to be distracted.

And to say you both are right now....was an understatement.

A day has passed after what went yesterday, a day with you avoiding him again despite that you didn't have a class with him, taking all the directions that you were sure of to not cross paths with him, nor even give him a glimpse of your existence far away. A day with you reflecting on your mistakes actions, of what you hold for him. From how you thought nothing of anything but it as you went along with your day, you'd say it took you somewhere, at least.

What more could be said? You like him. Till now, you've imagined how his smile was and how you know it'll make your heart skip a beat. An aspect that made the man more appealing to you, as much as daft you feel for that notion....some would agree, anyway.

....Yes, you like him....enough for you to have some peace with the unspoken agreement you both made. Swallowing your shame rather than pride, you agreed upon yourself to see through the end of what you've done. Newfound vigor to not be let down by your hurting ego. Because after all, what could you lose if you do this? Dignity, reputation, pride, or even degree to make it worse--but hey, the man you like persuaded you to form a no strings attached, as you deemed it to be, anyway--so how could you turn down such an offer?

Be it absurdity or even sad, you'd take what you can get. It's not like the man will have something to put you both in a situation, more than you already both are in.

Distracted you both are right now. Still and again, you're at the back. Nanami was different though, he's not faltering, nor even steal a glances toward you. Instead he was himself, where he spoke fluidly, eyes roaming over his students and of course, to you.

You chuckled to yourself, how could you have missed that? That his gaze was always laced with threatening facade that no one could miss but he played off well. And......no student of his nor the people in the university would even comprehend the thought of the said professor to have your panty still with him. Yeah, that thought was quite hard to forget ever since you realized. "Bastard." You muttered under your breath that hitched when your gazes met again. Immediately though swiftly, you ducked your head on the desk under your arms, feeling caught because you knew he saw what you said and the little quirk of his lips said so. Sure to have some consequence after.

And Nanami was more than pleased to deliver said consequences.

You were the last one remaining again in the room, silence stood still as you walk down the stairs and up until you pass him by his desk, with him just standing against it, but not until he caught your wrist, taking you back to him swiftly, a soft gasp out from you.

"Bastard, huh?" Nanami spoke, encircling his arms on your waist after he took your bag and things from you, putting it on his chair, then yours crawls to his chest so as your eyes to his. Immediately being surrounded by his strong scent of musk, trying not to relish it in the way it can show.

"You disagree?" You dared and it was worth it because you pulled a reaction from him, though only a raise of eyebrows and twitch of his lips, it was new, and amusing.

His surprised in reason was because what you just did was new as well, the same when he saw you utter the word, and now seeing hesitations gone in your eyes. He isn't complaining though.

He nod his head, passing by your question. He rather agrees to it but he won't say it out lout, at least. "You avoided me again yesterday," he states as a matter of fact. Not that he's bothered, really, he's just.....curious, the one that grew every time he walks the same direction he always does that makes him see you but didn't. And with how you are at the moment, it added to it.

You nod, trying not to let flattery or even a little of hope creep in by his words that confirmed for him to notice what you did. "Yes, well....I needed to think." Loosening his tie to open a bit of his well neatly buttoned collar.

He just looks at you, urging to go on. And you laughed lightly, your head falling to his chest.....he didn't need to know all that, even when he seems to want to know about it. "I think....that the door is still unlocked."

Some reminder to keep you steady.

And whatever Nanami thought it was, it's good enough for him because you're back in his arms. He smirked, dipping his head down to you, "We can fix that." He seeked your lips with his, your hands clasping together above his nape and you gasped in surprise as he walks forward while you were forced yourself to do so backwards.

He didn't let you tore off your mouth from him but just continued to kiss you vigorously, his palms going down to squeeze your ass as he guided you to where the door was. Adrenaline pumps high with the possibility of being caught, it tripled when Nanami backs you gently against it with a thud and he locks it.

He stands in between your opened legs, feeling his hard on against your heat as he was now slightly crouching down to meet your arched figure. Glad he was with your chosen attire; a loose shirt that's tucked in your short pencil skirt. Easily giving him access to let his hands roam up to your ass, the skirt riding up while he finally leaves your lips alone and went down to your exposed neck. Your hands goes to his hair, knowing how he likes it to be caressed and you did nothing but that as he gave a sweet attention to your soft flesh down, tempted to leave a mark.

Letting his desire win again, as he had the second to contemplate it while he just trails his wet lips on the skin--he had the time and what a loss it would be if he just left it untainted. So that's why your lips are pursed now because he's sucking on the right side of your neck while you're moving your hips slightly, feeling his cock move against your thinly covered cunt. Nanami grunts on your flesh, a harsh squeeze to your ass cheek, then he sinks his teeth on you, the abundant flesh engulfs his mouth, rolling his tongue above all the while he continues to suck--it had your mouth fall open.

"Sir," you moaned. So fucking relieved that you didn't utter his name this time, a line you know that's meant something. Nanami, too busy for the notion to cross his mind, was only pleased to hear you so he continues while you do yours as well, firing both of your heats with the grinding of your hips, that is.

Figuring that he did enough, Nanami pulls away to see what he did; a visible and wide enough of a mark that no one is to miss, your glistening skin with sweat and panting self, hooded eyes to him and still slightly moving hips. Satisfied he already is, he huffs down to you, pushing the leg between you further that made you gasp and arched up, fingers clasping up to his suit. "Should we continue?" he asked, already knowing the answer but just wanted to taunt you, he can't help it, not when he has you this eager.

You only hum, fluttering eyes, already lost, and you just let yourself be--better than be awake and see how smug he looks while you're weak. But he only taunts you more.

"Answer me." Demanded he. Knowing he won't let up, you gained some strength, your hand reaches to his tie and tug it to pull him closer again. "Yes," you weakly said and that was the only thing he wanted to hear.

Nanami hums as he hooked his arms under your thighs, your back straightened with holding onto his neck. Staring at each other as he carried you to his desk, unfazed by how he effortlessly he took you and just admired how pretty he looked with his blonde hair starting to stick with sweat, running your fingers through them now and beads of sweat falling on his face, fogged glasses, how red his ears and cheeks was. As he put you down, you took his glasses off, the chance finally allowing you to look at his unguarded eyes. Barely able to grasp the reality of being in front of your disheveled and flushed professor, once again. At least with your resolves bound agreed to you.

Nanami can see through how you're gazing at him, to say the very least....he was taken aback by it. Far from amusement now but just intrigue. And he needs to steer the other way before anything. He took his glasses from your hands and hooked it on his collar, then took off his suit, smoothly throwing it back on his chair, before he cuffed up the sleeves on his wrists properly; how you always found that action too attractive.

Breathless you were by his mere actions as he eyes you down before going down to your lips. You sigh into the kiss even when it was brisk and so needy, he dips you down lightly with a hand of his on your back and the other unbuckling his belt. Nanami explored in your mouth until he pulls away, gently laying you down on the wide and long enough desk, pulling once on your legs to angle you closely better to him, legs tightly clinging to his sides with your flat dolls hoes still in tact to your feet, skirt riden up to your waist, exposing your thighs and of course, your panty to him.

You stare up at the man and as the waistband of his pants fall a little, your eyes went down as he palms himself over his fitted boxer, seeing how packing he was, your lips parted, breath hitching as you were quite scared. He chuckled a little and rubs your thigh, "I won't hurt you," he spoke reassuringly. He may be a bastard but not so much, so he has to calm his nerves down when he feels how wet you are as his hand goes to your heat, slick leaking through your cotton underwear, just as he took off your panty short. Large and thick fingers massage your slit through the fabric.

"Sir....I-" you let out quite loudly, chest rising up and down. By your eyes, hesitating voice and your hands that tries to reach his wrist, he knew what you wanted to say--and fuck, some disgusting urge he shakes away because otherwise, he would have let loose and destroy your virgin cunt.

Nanami breathes from his mouth, not stopping his rubbing with your clothing mound, "I know, I know.." he coos, his other hand going up above your waist, feeling the belly rolls and up to your breasts, fondling them. Overwhelmed already by his ensuring actions, a hand of yours went to his that was fondling you, squeezing it while he took off your panties and laid it beside you.

You pursed your lips so hard as you knew what was next when he cups your mound. A kept sound echoes out of you once he lined one finger in your entrance. It'll be a tight fit, he thought with how your cunt was already spasming on his one finger--it makes his cock throb more, feeling his slick leaking out. "Easy.....easy," he mumbles when you gasped and squeezed his hand you were holding so hard as he slid in the finger further.

Deep and slow breaths you make to soothe yourself though with how he's looking down at you, it only helps so little--and he just adds another finger, "Shit-" you hissed. Twitching, he guided down his hand you're still holding onto for dear life to your belly, pressing down on it, "You're doing well."

If he keeps on speaking like that while looking at you, his strong digits sliding in your walls, no less--you'd lose whatever cogs remains in your brain.

Hummed moans rumbles from your pursed lips as his fingers stretches you gently, easily done by how wet you are and the way he's guiding you. Eyes rolling back to close your eyes and let him take his time with his fingers in you.

Nanami, despite how his boxer is already soiled, pulsing of his cock so strong that it battles against the beating of his heart—he only eyes you as his two fingers penetrates your cunt nice and easy. Almost unable to believe that he'd be fucking his student raw, a virgin, no fucking less. He's beginning to get dizzy at this point.

He then turns his slow pace a little bit faster, in and out they slide. "Ha," you continously pant as he find his fast rhythm, thick and long digits getting sucked in by your walls, eyes opened now while he's hurling his fingers again and again, hips bucking to move against them and he allows you--just as pleased you were eased already.

"God," you heaved breathily as you already feel your stomach was on a rollercoaster but with just added so much heat. By how deep he was plunging in your walls, how wide his big fingers were stretching you, and the fact that this was your first time as well, you knew you were close.

Nanami feels it, too—easy to know by how you're now scratching his hand you haven't let go, shallow rising of your stomach and your wavering grinding. He almost chuckled but he just smirked, turning his pace much more faster, "Sir!" you gasped but immediately covered your mouth, suddenly clenching all of you but he just continues to drive in and out his knuckles deep.

Wide and frantic gaze stares through his calm ones as fucks you by his fingers, the table was already creaking weakly. As his other hand was freed, he used that to rub over your clit, pushing you to your edge. "Mhgh-" eyes rolling back again as you let go. Squirting a little of your fluids with thick and white comes out of your cunt slowly, his colored cream shirt tainted a bit and unfortunately for you, his damn watch as well, though Nanami could care less about it but just watched you ride your orgasm and easing you through it. Shaking limbs that moves weakly to let the pressure stay while he gently massage your insides.

You moaned by your lips parting slightly when he takes out his fingers and the other goes to caress you, keeping you awake from your hazy state. Then you're humming as he cups your roaming head, keeping it still to make you look straight to him. You wonder how he could still ask what he asked when he's licking his fingers off of your cum by his tongue, "Should we continue?"

His calm voice only echoes in your ears but you didn't need to be told twice again, hypnotized with pleasure, and well....him. "Yes, yes, yes," you pant, nodding, not caring how needy you must sound.

Nanami wastes no time to take down his boxers, springing his cock free, his red and wide tip that leaks with his pre. You gape at him, your head a little away up from the table, fully woken up and frankly, scared again. "I got you," he spoke firmly, rubbing your thighs to leading his one hand to caress your ever soaked heat. "Hmm?" He waits for you to utter at least something and you nod, though hesitantly. Enough for him. Because truthfully, he doesn't know how long he can wait more.

He strokes his length, making it dribble out more cum and he hums while he still rubs your mound. "I won't make it hurt, angel." Assured he and you nod again, the name somehow doubles the fluttering of your insides. The man above you who was entranced by your cunt which was smeared with your cum and clenching onto nothing, couldn't take it anymore and lines himself up to your slit. But he doesn't enter yet and instead slides his length against your folds, eliciting hisses and gasps from both of you.

"Fuck," you swore, your head instinctively falling back on the table, feeling his hard member rubs on you, your hands just fisted to your sides. Nanami yanked up your shirt, showing your soaked stomach and breasts underneath your bra, he'd bite and mark you up if only he had the chance at the moment. But he isn't complaining with what he's got now; his aching cock that massages itself on your fat cunt. Up and down again and again until a thin paddle of both your slicks is made on the floor, that he no doubts will just double later on.

Fucked out you already were and Nanami can't wait to see how you'd be once he finally gets to be in you, a few more firm thrust that he's doing right now and he knows he'll have you gushing out again and of course, he. With actually a hard and final thrust, hard that it truly contracted his thick and hard length against your mound, you gripped his sides by your legs so tight as you came. Nanami was no different, it had him clenched his knuckles on the table, up to his neck frozing as well as he reached his peak.

By now, his hair was much more wet and falling down to his head, dropping of sweat to you, and fuck--how greatly lewd he looks as he relished his high, head up to the cieling, showing his veiny neck, thanks to what you did earlier by loosening his tie that crippled his shirt now, cuffed up sleeves that hugged his muscled forearms so well, the expensive watch of his glimmering, his chest heaving.

What the hell did you got yourself into?

As he got back, he looks down to you, stroking his length once again, his curve straightening, lining the tip to your entrance, that much already makes you take a deep breath, your hands finding your thighs to dig into. "Relax, I got you," he says, his eyes sharpening a little, guiding his cock in with his hand to finally be in you though just the tip yet. Nanami's eye never left you even when you already were sucking the little bit of his length so tight, but just kept his attention to you, ears sharp to your little sounds, making sure you won't hurt even a little. "I got you..." He mumbles along with your whimpering, his other hand caressing your soft belly while he stilled as you ground yourself by finding where his hand was and held it.

Nanami opened his hand to hold yours properly, fingers clasped together; a little surprised by the action, he took that chance to move a little, your said hand twitched hardly on his as your thighs did. "Is that alright?" he asks after, the little added inch in you making you lightheaded already but by his firm yet gentle aura with his hand squeezing yours, is what soothes you greatly.

You nod tiredly with closed eyes, you hum a small 'yes' and he hums as well, lightly tugging on your hold to make your eyes open and look at him, which you do. You're both pulsing against one another, you feel it, so much; it's quite aching but not because of how it's hurting but because of how nicely he felt even with his thick length—your cunt just wanting for more.

Some luck you had. Desired as well by the man you like, even though it's not the same way as you think of each other....suppose it can count for something....with him being as your first time, no less. And how could you complain when he's being so gentle, patient to not hurt you, even though it was his wanted need that's put you here, he's patient to ease you first. If you didn't know any better then you could say that alone is making you fall for him more.....but you do.

You're not blaming yourself this time though.

And Nanami seemed to be patient, it truly looks like it, but believe that it has ran so thin ever since earlier. His needy cock that's being sucked so well by your cunt, only the tip and a few inch he's in and it's so much already but still not enough. What keeps the last thread of sanity that's holding his mind together is your glossy eyes, his hand that you keep on squeezing.....and your trust in him to keep his word. Because after all, he wouldn't want you to be scared again, run away from him and leave his need.

All the while your minds ran, Nanami was inching himself further little by little until he's halfway, relieving him some of his aching as your walls engulf him. "Mhmm, you're doing so good." Placid tone that he mumbles out lowly as he rocks his hips a bit. Another of your hand goes to where you're holding his, needing support from his girth that opens and continues to impale in you while you just let broken moans out.

"Eyes on me, sweetheart, we're almost there." You don't know how much more you can take by his mellow words, and you did your best to bear his heavy gaze while he was still going in. After for what it felt like for so long, Nanami finally found himself to the end of you, his pelvis directed so closely on your heat, his cock fully sheathed inside you, giving what he was deprived of for a while since he's taken a notice of you.

He sighs with closing his eyes as he turned up his head, basking in the warmth of your walls that spreads all over him, your little cries as a melody to his paradise. What a view it was, his chest that's seems to be constricted by the tight cloth clinging to his sweated flesh, curves of his muscles showing, that was rising up and down slowly by how deeply he was breathing--some pride manages to swell in you for it was you, well, rather your cunt that made him like that. But you can say the same with his cock that was impaling you.

Kneading your thigh, he looks at you, "See? You did so well, hmm?" You can only nod, tears falling to the side of your face. Any other time, you're sure you would have feel pathetic but no, he was anything but made you feel everything but it.

"I need to hear you speak, angel." Nanami spoke, his nod urging you on. You nod a bit frantically, licking your lips, "....Yes, yes...I'm okay," you say breathlessly.

Seeing how you are, that gives him grant to move again, he pulls back his hips, his length slowly following out and he sees how soaked it was, veins more visible. Then he goes in, slowly again, giving you time to still get used to him, seeing how your cunt was tightly pressing on his length, making him hissed with clenched teeth and jaw the second he was pulling out and your walls welcoming him in again. He continues to slowly drive in you, unable to believe that it didn't hurt even once despite that he was so big and long, just filling you up completely and warmly; all because he made sure of it.

Nanami's slow pace began to turn steady, his hand still on your thigh but just gripping it now, "Talk to me, sweetheart," he says, and you wonder how is his voice still firm like that.

You try to bite off the shy away in speaking of what he was insisting to know, and of course, by his demeanor that never seemed to fail to work on you, you answered. "It's good.....so good...." you murmur, eyes fluttering but still you had a glimpse of his satisfied face—at this point, you have no energy left to protest to it, even just to yourself, because all of you was being outweighed by his pulsating cock in your heat as it slips in and out, every vein of his you feel it contract against your walls, his tip that only threatens to reach your deepest end. Only that and you already see your end to be so near. You know you're in some deep shit because he hasn't even begun yet.

He kept moving his pace, still not letting up to his want that tempts him to drill his cock into you without remorse or whatsoever. Rather, he continues to put you first and it's not even so hard anyway, because he knows even without penetration yet, you're not so far to cumming again. "You're almost there, hmm?" Nanami urged as he eyes your cunt that was leaking of white drops already before he looks at your strained face. Only a few more then it'll finally pay off.

"Hnggh..yes..yes.." You let out a whiney voice as your tears don't stop falling. With the sounds of your liquids squelching, feeling how your cunt continues to leak, his cock plunging in, his hand that never stopped caressing your flesh and your hold on him he as well hold, you had your release. "Shit-" you choked, uncontrollably bucking up your hips and clenched thighs on him so hard that your walls did as well, which made Nanami's breath hitched—"Shit." The sudden action, choking his own member, shockwaves through his nerves.

Both of you lost in the euphoria, though Nanami had to ground himself because at the moment it was all about you, as much as he was damn grateful for what you unconsciously did, he needed to help you ride your end, and to see you at it made it all worthwhile; as you keep grinding to him while he feels your creamy slick coats his cock that he continues to rut in you gently, ( you both no doubt that his own was mixing with yours the moment he went in you ) your nails drilling on his knuckles, he only dismissed the little spots of blood that shows, and just watched on how you were shaking, listening to your sounds that you keep on breaking as you knew you can't be too loud.

"Ha....fuck," you dragged too breathy, your hold on him weakening, vision just black spots, slowly coming down from your bliss, still you feel your cunt fluttering even when both of your movements has ceased. Nanami takes his hand from you gently, needing to flex it as it was slightly hurting before coming it up to your neck, his strained fingers reaching until to your chin, "Angel, stay with me," he murmurs, fingertips faintly rubbing your skin, making your dizzy eyes open to peer at him.

You hum, weakly nodding to his touch, too out of it to pay mind to it. "Are you okay for us to continue?" If you still have some hold of yourself or had the energy, you would have giggle or even laugh, maybe be even a little annoyed, roll your eyes—the literal situation amusing as he was still in you, of you just down from your release, and he's still asking if it's alright to continue. But whatever is left in you, how he was being, you can't deny what you somehow feel in your heart.

Managing and choosing to let your lips curve a little, "...Yes...I'm okay...please.." To Nanami's ear, you plead. And as said before, he may be a bastard but not cruel to not give what you were asking for.

So finally, fucking finally—he has himself moving through you the way he was craving for. His pace began slow and steady again, both of his palms laid flat on your sides on the desk, gripping down strongly on the wood to gain momentum in his thrust. Leaving you to hold on his wrists, your muscles pulling as your arms were only just long enough to reach for him, the grip just adding to it.

Your hold was the only thing that was keeping you from breaking, knowing what you were feeling right now will only just get worse; knowing what's only left is him speeding up and fill you up to no end.

Of course, that's what he does. Babbles of his title, curses, incoherent sounds out from you while he only lets out guttural groans and low rumming hums that vibrates through you, along with skins slapping against each other...and the table creaking strongly.

With the time you had that was much past far already and charting the dangerous remaining time you have now. You both know that one round is all you have, Nanami is fine with that, more than it because he'll fucking make the most of it.

....And because of that, you know you have to keep the burning knot that's already building up inside you or longer than you can to make it all the damn better. Which is what you do, by digging your nails on his skin once again...limbs clenching so mightily against him to give you strength with keeping it in. To give back what he gave you, is what's in your mind--pathetic as that sounds, you want to keep it.

Nanami sees through you sees through your teary eyes that still somehow gets lost in your head while he was fucking you. Adorable, again is what he thinks but no amusement just intrigue, again. He lets it stay this time, be it a heat of the moment so as you've said before, part of him knows that it's not.

Then he surprises you when he slows down, the curling fire in you follows down not too soon, making you blink your tears away too many times to look at him rightly to see if your senses were doubting you, but because you see his waiting eyes that's painted calmy....satisfyingly, your face furrowed before you scoffed disbelievingly, ''Bastard," of course, like you've guessed, he'd savor it well and that's how he does it; by warming his damn cock inside you, even in the midst of fucking you, he just has to stop and bask in your heat, beating against each other. But is he right for doing that because it is fucking good.

"Believe me, I know, sweetheart," he now admits. That makes you raise your brows and smirked, teeth showing, but before you could relish your amusement, he went back to it again. Cursing at him and that only urge him on.

Only by a few thrusts he started again, that knot in you easily builds just as easy how it went away, making you remember to hold on and you bear it as you feel he's not so far now.

Fast and deep is how he hits you, his cock twitching every time he finds your end, hips rising slightly each time that happens making his knot overflow and by that, he knows he's close. So he made his pace even more faster, because of it; it feels like he's ramming into you deeply now despite that he really not anymore because of his speed.

Out of his control that his pace had become uneven, hips stuttering and he's cursing and hissing now. "Speak, sweetheart." Hastily he lets out, tightening up all of him before he hears your answer. "Inside," you breathe brokenly and that cracks his damn easily just as yours. His bottom stilled against in you and you raise your hips to meet his final thrust that makes all of him spill in your gushing cunt.

"Fuck," Nanami swore as he continues to let out his cum, his cock beating still strongly as if it's his own heart, gently rutting in you to ease you both, your cleched state beginning to move again, stirring the heat further more, finding your vision black. "Fucking hell." You curse, so fucking overwhelmed; completely hot and full inside, trembling limbs and flinching all the while, not letting up your death grip on his wrist. Nanami doesn't even feel that but just your cunt that still sucks him in, trapped in his own doing as your eyes were locked together while staying high.

Aching and trembling muscles as the man helps you sit up gently. Feeling all the soreness come down. You just sit there with closed eyes as Nanami fixes himself up and you're surprised when you felt a hand on your face, he doesn't say anything but just brushes your hair out of the way and dab his handkerchief gently on your soaked skin, a few tissues as well. After that, he fixes your shirt, all that until you're fully woken up, able to grasp what he was doing, but despite you're quite taken aback, you don't say anything, well not like you could anyway by how your throat was burning--and of fucking course, he's standing again in front of you with a water bottle.

Shaking arm, you drank it all. He then carries you bridal style, knowing you're sore and because of the mess down front of the desk. "Can you stand?" He asks, still carrying you, looking at you're limp head on his chest. "I'll try," you weakly answer and he lets you, but still his arms are around you and glad you were because your legs gave out immediately. You laughed weakly, holding onto him, Nanami doesn't show anything but his neutral face and just held you up. Making you hold onto him properly as he fixed the rest of your clothes, including sliding your panty back up to you.

Presentable enough, enough to not let suspicions grow. "Are you able to walk by yourself or shall I go with you?"

You gape at him a little, almost finding him funny. "Suspicions is what we're avoiding,"

"I won't have you falling again."

Quite late for that.

You laughed, clutching your bag. "I'll be fine, I'll do my best."

He doesn't stop there. Is he dense with what he's doing?

"Will you be okay?" Though you know what he was implying, his hold on your cheek, how he's caressing your arm, is what reflects his concern.

Either he's real cruel to treat you like that when he knows what you feel for him or he's just truly kind and you're just far gone swayed, letting your heart cloud anything else.

"I will." You nod, squeezing his hand for the last time before going but not before asking to insist ith helping with the mess that he just dismissed, ever the gentleman.

Quite the day you both had.

Stolen glances, given gazes that dangerously stays when distances are clear. All of that.

All of that until you see each other and take and give what you can for as long as time can offer.

All of that until Nanami can't take anymore of your gazes that you hold with so much likeness for him, hell, it might be even more. It's getting in the way of what he only wants. You're getting in the way, because fuck, you're getting to him and that's not what he wants, no he doesn't want that, he doesn't want you and what you hold for him.

Well....at least that's what he keeps telling to himself....especially right now that he sees you speaking animately with your seatmate in his class, and it's been going on like that for a few days that it's got his attention, the said person listening to you intently and quite frankly if he's not wrong, he can see that they're eyeing you the way he has been, back then. Lust.

And what he doesn't do just told him that he's in deep shit; letting you converse with them even though class was about to start, rather than calling you out and see you frown because of him, it was his fault anyway that he came in late.

If it isn't the consequences of his own actions.

Worried is what you are as you feel he's been strange, more than usual, you suppose. Worried that your charade that seemed to be going so well, especially for your own satisfaction of feeding to your desires not of needs that he only seeks but what you've made into much more than that—worried that it'll end soon. 

Speaking of that...you don't even bother to curtain it but just let it show, because come on, it's not like it was a problem, right? Surely he's not bothered by it because you do nothing but just look at him, speak to him in a way that no one has and until now, can. Surely he's not affected by it, no?

....It was then you concluded, rather reach that at this point, he has been. Some hope you were right.

You weren't worried anymore that your charade will end.

With the little courage you have, it was enough to drive you greatly.

And it's what Nanami has dreaded when you're now face to face alone in his classroom once again. He's unsure of what he's dreading, to be honest, just that dread is keeping him on his toes.

He eyes his shoes as his waist was leaning back against his desk, he doesn't want to look at you, afraid to see how you're gazing at him, what you hold in them, afraid that he's afraid, afraid he'll mirror your gaze.

But when you call his name, half of it gone away. "Kento," you call, tipping your head down gently. There he looks at you, breathing deeply. The man doesn't speak but just stares at you, however you're not flustered by it this time as you see nothing was behind them anymore but just him.

Your drive takes over, with pursed lips you smile before speaking, "Do you want this?"

For the first time, you see him smile, losing his composure as he puts a hand on his face, a laugh breaking. You were much right about your heart skipping a beat when you see his smile.

He's truly lost and knows there's no running from it. No sense in doing so. A bastard he is or maybe even cruel, but never a coward. Nanami reaches out for your hands and you give it to him. "Yes."

You only smile, stepping closer to him as he opened his legs and leaned your foreheads together. Closed eyes, he whispers, "Forgive me."

"I know,"

"Allow me to start over."

"As you wish."

A new agreement came to light driven by only the truth and sealed by a kiss.

Which was soon interrupted by none other than the two esteemed professors besides Nanami; Gojo and Geto. Opening the door with a key in Geto's hand, the two entering in so smugly with Gojo laying out his hand to Geto.

"I told you so. Pay up."

[shedoesntevengohier]

Since apparently there's a topic of vampires, I'm gonna go note down my earlier concept for turning for vampire!Vincent! (Note, this one is drawing on the book, which I have only partially read).

Vincent was turned by the doctor who helped him after the car bomb, in order to save his life - he had otherwise not been going to survive. However, in this version turning is a slow rather than more immediate process - it's started, its happening, it was able to save his life (-well, depending on if one considers vampires to be living, but), but it's going to happen over time, and it'll be a while before it gets to the point of obvious or evident.

But, the rest of their interaction proceeds as in canon - the doctor does tell Vincent about what he's found, and doesn't tell him about what else he's also done. (He does this for two reasons: first, given he's already throwing this one thing at a man who also already just nearly died, he doesn't want to add yet another thing right then. Second, he doesn't really know Vincent so well, and wants to be able to get a better idea of him before he reveals a secret with such ramifications.)

So Vincent - has his dark time, and goes to Rome, and tries to resign, and has his conversation(s) with the Holy Father, and makes plans, and thinks, and prays, and changes some plans, and is starting to come to this greater understanding and acceptance of himself.

And then, when he is back at his home, the doctor comes to talk to him. (Or possibly even he's starting to notice things, starting to not really be able to ignore noticing things, and then the doctor comes to talk to him.) And he has a whole new thing to deal with, and he's going to need to talk to the Holy Father again.

(If I remember correctly, in the book Vincent later says that the doctor who treated him was since killed. In this version that's a cover story, to keep anyone from asking more questions or looking for the doctor, to protect him both in his general (common to vampires) desire to not be known, and about this in particular.)

[alt-lucidifer]

Okay so I'm gonna go on an excited rant here. So I may or may not have been listening to a certain song and gotten hella inspired and now I need to note down this idea somewhere before I forget it.

I have been reading a lot of svsss fanfics and it hit me so hard; I've never seen a fanfic exploring what would happen if Shen Jiu was ever given a glimpse of SY!SQQ's future. Angst, no doubt. So that could happen. But also. But also. But what if he instead was given control of SY body during the Water Prison arc.

Rather than fleeing like SY did, I think SJ would start formulating a plan. Then I was given the genius idea of giving SJ simultaneously a redemption arc and a further-blackening storyline. As he's already experienced a lifetime where he betrayed and abused LBH, I think he would rethink his actions—but not regret them. He still hates LBH. So instead, he starts rooting out issues that led to his eventual demise whilst also dealing with the bullshit SY left behind for him. What is happening with SY, you ask? Well... Plantyuan? I imagine his soul would kind of be in a comatose state while the mushroom body grows. Like being put on hold during a call, I suppose.

Then past the Jinlan City arc, SJ returns with LQG and YQY to Cang Qiong Sect. He distances himself and in true MXTX fashion, misunderstandings occur. SJ is STILL plotting, actually making use of his lofty immortal image to garner some attention that he uses to worm his way into positions of power. Then SY and SJ end up face to face years later... This could go in all sorts of direcions!

I imagine that power would be a big part of SJ character. He doesn't hunger for more like Binghe, but in a way he is never satisfied. His perfectionism stretches even to himself. But he is eternally ruined, he knows—there are some parts of him that he cannot mend. He cannot be perfect. Thus, no one else is allowed to be perfect. It's basically a superiority and inferiority complex in one. In the end, I think SJ would either destroy the sect from within before LBH has a chance to slaughter them all, since he doesn't actually want anyone to die. I think he would see it as choosing a lesser evil. SJ is by no means a morally gray character—he was a villain. But with knowledge of his "future" and mild influence by SY, I think he could become a more complex and less "good" or "bad" straightforward blank slate. Of course he already has a backstory, but I feel like there's sm left unexplored!

But I'm already working on Book-Wielder’s Normopathy... Oh well.

[dandysworld-meh-imagines]

maybe one where the reader is the newest member of the book club? platonically speaking

i like the book club, theyre my fav characters :D

thank you and take ur time ^^

Reader Being A New Member Of The Book Club!

I feel like the book club would be so chill to hang out with and read books together msmsmsm, might even use the place to quiet sketch as I use stuff from books as reference MUAHAHAHAHA! This was very cute by the way, hehe, here you go, dear anon! Thank you for requesting! <3

I've been drawing a lot hehe..

-Anna

-The toons were quite aware of a library being somewhere in Gardenview, it would have so many books to select from and it seemed to have a cozy vibe, was kinda spacious too. Out of all the places in this place, it easily makes it's way up to being one of the quietest ones. If you needed a place to relax from how a lot of the toons might be loud or from your daily life in general, the library would always have it's doors open for anyone! The only sounds you will probably hear is pages turning and maybe some quiet sips or even some chewing from everyone else. Everyone can have their little corner or space, though.

-Brightney would be the one who was often there as she was the president of the book club. For a place that had so many books, it surprised you that it had 3 only members, especially considering how many toons are there. You got invited by Brightney one day and here you were. Reading books together in silence or through some small talk here and there. It honestly felt pretty cozy and nice in there, it would have this pleasant vibe to it. Brightney also knew her way to get you the exact books you want or like, just let her know! She's always there to help out, after all.

-Next to Dazzle, Razzle was also there but a lot of the time (if not all of it), they would be seen sleeping. As for Dazzle, he really seemed to enjoy reading, sometimes you would catch a small smile on his face as he reads. He seems to really get super into the books he picks up on, even having a small stack next to him on the things he wants to read next, it's a pretty wholesome sight, especially since you don't often see Dazzle smile or seem completely relaxed. It's also a funny sight since Razzle is snoring next to him and keeps his head still in the air.

-If you wanna see Astro being awake for more than an hour at least (or less), you will only find it in this book club. He can also really get invested a lot but he is more likely to fall asleep just like Razzle. Only for him, sometimes you don't even notice since he likes holding his book with his star hands and he doesn't snore like Razzle. For Astro, reading can really help him fall asleep pretty fast and it's something he loves doing after a full day of greeting the children that visit Gardenview. Having also a nice warm drink next to him can definitely speed up the process of it.

-Brightney would have this calm and mature vibe around her as she reads, she even brings her small glasses when she does so. She's also the one to definitely go to if you ever need help with something as she's always happy to help! She definitely has the skills and knows how to make the reading spots around the library feel comfortable to stay at, even the soft light in the room makes you feel relaxed while also providing enough light to read the books you picked.

-You can also always bring stuff like drinks or snacks as you read anything that your heart desires! The only rule is to never let anything dirty like that to touch the books and potentially ruin them. Thankfully though, Brightney has brought small tables into the the library for anyone to place their stuff or you can always sit on the floor with a pillow underneath you as you read. If everyone is careful enough, there won't be an accident. If it does happen one bad day, Brightney can always ask the staff for a replacement for it, it's okay, don't feel bad for it!

-Sometimes, other toons would join in as well, they usually come like once or twice. The one you see the most is Shelly and she often swaps the dinosaur books when she is done reading them and grabs the fresh ones. She comes back to reread the old books too. Brightney even encourages everyone, if they want, they can always bring their friends and more company, it's always nice to have more toons in here! Of course, if no one really wants, she won't really mind, everyone is happy reading books quietly in here, after all.

-But being at the book club is pretty chill! The vibe is calm and gentle and even if you are someone who stumbled in there for the first time, it feels like you have been a member of it for so long. Brightney is really kind and talented, helping you adjust and everything. Even encouraging you to please tell her if you need absolutely anything. Dazzle and Astro's company is also pretty sweet, they like to recommend you books if you want to hear them out, especially Dazzle. Though they usually read quietly, offering you silent company.

-Sometimes small talks turn into you all having a conversation together and laughing, whether it's about the books you are reading or quietly bonding as you all have your trusty drinks or food beside you. Sometimes it might even feel like a sleepover, especially if you all gather at night or the atmosphere feels like it as well. The mood can even feel sleepy sometimes as it is that cozy in there. Honestly, Brightney feels glad if the book club is able to provide any of you some nice comfort, especially at night if you can't sleep.

-The book club can really be a nice place. Even if you are new, there is never really a moment where you will feel anxious that you are the newest member. The toons are all welcoming and it's even perfect for those that don't even talk much or even prefer to be alone. You don't even have to come by every single time! Though the book club is always happy to see you reading together with them! They really like having you there with them and they are glad that you joined the book club!

Thank you for reading! <3

[philativy]

May I request a secretly devilish MC? Like a wolf in sheep's clothing. They act nice and stuff but they like to prank people and cause trouble but it is almost impossible to blame bc they're so nice! Why in the world would they ever do that? Thanks in advance, love love love your writing

Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing

a/n: tysm anon! sorry i’ve been keeping you waiting! i still have a few days left of my trip, and things have been slow. writing is hard in these circumstances! anyhow, i did decide to just make this a short passage instead of a full-length drabble since i wasn’t really sure how how to make a long plot out of it. i hope you enjoy regardless!

You’ve never done anything wrong in your life — Mammon is convinced. So is Diavolo. And Asmodeus. And a majority of the devilish figures in your newfound life. You, for all intents and purposes, are content to remain the pinnacle of human innocence and sincerity.

But even your saccharine nature must take a back seat when an opportunity, gilded and waiting, presents itself.

Take, for example, the harmless rearranging of Levi’s figurines (he claims they’re alphabetical, but seriously, how does that work?), or replacing Beelzebub’s creatine with baby powder. All of which were relatively easily fixed in the long run, and you were able to pass off as the mischievous misdoings of someone else.

In this moment, you sit with your back against Satan’s chest, scrolling on your phone, while your feet are propped up on a sleeping Belphie’s ribcage. Satan reads over your shoulder, his chin propped up and his arms caging your sides. A book is pinched between the lanky fingers of his right hand, while the left absentmindedly rub circles into your tummy.

You hear the telltale clunk of Lucifer’s shoes as they approach. The strides pause outside your door, but are soon succeeded by a heavy rapping on the door.

You look up. Belphie and Satan, pointedly, do not.

Lucifer pushes the door to your room open and eyes the cozy trio. His arms are crossed, his brows pinched in that "angry dad" way that he has perfected.

"Would any of you like to explain why my cologne appears to be the same scent as Asmodeus' bathroom air freshener?" He rumbles.

"It’s not my business what you spend your money on." Satan sniffs, pressing his nose further into the junction of your neck with indignation.

"Answer my question."

"No, I have no idea why your cologne smells like that. Happy?"

Lucifer grunts. "Belphegor?"

Belphie groans and shakes his head noncommittally.

Lucifer’s eyes fall on you, finally. Perhaps the others are fooled by your — admittedly lovely — doe eyes, but he will not be. "And you?"

At Lucifer’s accusation, Satan curls tighter around you. He appears offended on your behalf.

"They'd never."

"I'd never." You agree, batting your eyelashes.

Lucifer scowls, pinches the bridge of his nose, and backs out of your room.

You return to your doom scrolling, only to be interrupted by a little banner at the top of your screen:

Luci 💋: Please come to my room tonight after dinner. Your deception is deserving of retribution, yes?

Withholding a giggle, you shoot off a short affirmative before leaning back against Satan’s hold. It went just as you planned.

[shoxxcc]

perfect eyes

one’s words—careless and sharp, can carve permanent scars to someone so fragile and beautiful. one’s words can create darkness one does not wish to bask in. one’s words can push one to reside and grow familiar in a space where there is only a distortion of suffering. but one’s words can also give someone the light they needed; the light that will blind many, but will clear one’s gnawing feeling hidden beneath a façade of healing.

pairing: non-idol!park jisung x gn!reader

g: slight angst (if you squint), fluff

wc: 0.9k

warnings: insecurity, bullying/teasing, knife, allusions to threats

“ahh.. they're still puffy...” jisung sadly huffed an air, referring to his eyes which you find adorable but he finds bothersome growing up. something small, yet is a big deal to others and to him as well.

after hours of reading from his new books last night, he couldn’t help but sneak some ramen in the kitchen at 4:00 am. two packs to be exact and some mandu—probably a few, like three.

but waking up with puffy eyes, jisung regrets acting like a mad man who hasn’t been fed for days.

sitting on a stool in the kitchen island, he watches you rummaging through drawers and picking up utensils you used to make the first meal of the day while getting annoyed at how loud the pressure cooker has gotten; blaming the appliance for being so loud for you to not hear him.

“baby, do you know how i can get rid of these?” he calls for you, wanting some attention.

“what?” you questioned, still minding your business. but jisung didn’t like you not paying attention to him. and for the time you waited for his answer, he remained unexpectedly silent instead. until he’s got you turning around to look at him who had a frown in his face, before asking again, “i’m sorry, baby. what do you want to get rid of?”

“does my eyes look puffy?” he questions, almost vulnerably.

you examined his bare face; one that literally looked like he had just awoken, but nothing else was new nor did his eyes look puffy. “they look alright. is that what’s bothering you?”

jisung nodded timidly, “you may or may not get mad, but i felt greedy last night...” he admitted how he sneaked out of the bed and with how much food he had consumed.

“i’m not mad at all. you can eat whatever you like, whenever. just in moderation though.” you turned around to continue what you were initially doing.

“i just,” he hesitated, but decided to say what has been bothering him since he woke up, “….i can’t stop thinking about that one kid back then, saying my eyes look like soggy udon.”

and just as quickly you chopped the scallions and bell peppers, a remarkable 180° swift of your body and the loud piercing of the knife on the chopping board startled jisung. “excuse me? whose kid said that?”

the moment jisung saw the look of annoyance and anger in your eyes and the knife you held close in your hand, he shakes his head in fear. “i-it’s nothing big, baby. it just randomly popped in my mind again…” he looked down with his teeth sinking in his bottom lip, anxiously tapping the marbled surface.

you felt your heart being squeezed at the sight, as well as the grip on the knife that stabbed the wooden board. you think he’s probably regretting opening that topic up in the first place—always so careful and mindful with what he says. and you somehow felt bad knowing he’s not even the one at fault here.

eventually, you put the deadly weapon down, walking towards where he is. your hands instinctively reached to cup his face, like they belonged there.

“it’s something big if it affects you badly.” he only pursed a sad smile as you caressed his plump pillows. “you don't look bad with your bags. they make you cute and make your eyes more pretty.” you assured him and you swore you saw a glint of hope flashing in his eyes. “and you have the prettiest small eyes i’ve ever seen.”

his heart warmed at the compliments.

for years, jisung had carried the insecurity of having small, puffy eyes, with only a big dream of fitting and conforming to the standards mainly thrown by the society. what all began with a little joke gradually became constant teasing by some kids in his childhood.

but he had never really gotten to end the nightmare by escaping these restraints that held him growing up without repeatedly falling into the abyss of doubts and uncertainty.

for years, he lived close with all the familiar point outs of his eyes; far from the foreign compliments that refuged him safe.

and now those same deep pools that drowned your own two years ago looked at you with pure fondness. this time, with brimming tears. wanting another assurance, sweet talks, some praises, another compliment—wanting more coming from you. not that he doesn’t have any ounce of trust in your words, but jisung’s actually starting to think that he’s capable of breaking free from the years of restraints, now that he's genuinely believing he’s lovable enough because you are there to tell him so.

“really..?” he quietly whispered, “you think my eyes are pretty?” and you nodded slowly.

“very.”

and that's on period.

“but they make me look-”

he was taken aback when your body leaned forward, closing his eyes in the process and anticipated a kiss on the lips or on his cheek but was kissed on one of his closed eyes instead.

when he fully opened his eyes, you were already grinning, “you're very, very perfect, love,”

oh, how much he wants to erase that grin of yours with a kiss and replace it with a flustered expression.

he could not imagine a life without the only person with a glorified soul who’s capable of making him feel special and worthy.

jisung settled his big hands above your small ones on his cheeks, while leaning forward and returning a smooth kiss on your lips. when he pulled away, he still couldn’t erase that grin on your face. but at least you were happy, and so was he.

“thank you…” his thumbs rubbed the back of your hands in comfort; wanting to melt under your touch. “what would i actually do without you?” he forced a pout, and you both giggled—yours becoming louder. and as quick as flash, he stole another peck on your lips, shutting you up. “but uh… as much as i'd love to be this close to you…” jisung slowly removed himself away from your hold and shoved your arms to your sides—back to where they belonged. his lips stretched in fear as he looked everywhere in the kitchen but your eyes, “…your hands are spicy, baby.”

credits:

— dividers: @uzmacchiato @strangergraphics @saradika-graphics

— photos: pinterest

the author: i made this probably like two years ago as a drabble, with just like five lines. i’m kinda impressed i was able to work it out and make it longer. and this was initially inspired by that one live of jisung and renjun. to whoever said that one comment about his face, he’s vv perfect !

and by the way, we have some crazy coincidence here! this work was posted on 06.25.2025, and the day after, jisung had a bubble message saying his eyes looked puffy/swollen on their way to smtown london. but i tell you, i cannot make up something as crazy as this actually is. i’m starting to think we’re soulmates.

some works of: shoxxcc

[jkags-doodles]

In which I am predictable

Fic concept where Puck has had respiratory issues ever since Meghan met them that are in the category of ~eh, mostly under control, and she’s learned not to question, up until circa the Iron Bug plotline/her and Puck exploring the possibility of romance, at which point their random coughing fits merge into coughing up blood. Which. Concerning. But Puck insists it’s fine. And when she brings it up to nurse Stacy she looks long suffering and pitying but not like it’s unusual, just talks about upping Puck’s treatment.

Cut to book 3 at Leanansidhe’s safehouse, Meghan and Ash are fully in their romance era, Puck is helping train Meghan. They’re at a weird impasse where Meghan isn’t mad at Robbie anymore but hasn’t really forgiven them or addressed the issue. Coughing fits are worsening, Meghan really wishes Puck would address them, and

Wait are those flowers.

(They’re forget-me-nots, specifically.)

Oh my god you have Hanahaki, Meghan says.

Literally shut the fuck up, Puck says.

Oh my god, your love for me is killing you isn’t it, Meghan says.

I will pay you 20 American dollars to pretend you didn’t see this, Puck says.

I’m a terrible person for not being able to requite your feelings, Meghan says, spiraling.

It’s not for you, don’t worry about it, Puck says.

Wait what? Meghan says, because this love triangle has been consuming nearly every thought in her brain and the idea of Robbie having an active social life outside of her is admittedly kinda weird, which she’s going to unpack later.

Puck proceeds not to tell her who they love and why it’s killing them, just that it’s been like this for a while and sometimes gets better/sometimes gets worse, PLEASE don’t ask pressing questions, this is totally normal for them and they’re used to it and it’s not going to stop them from being helpful. So it’s fine.

Meghan tells Ash, because she’s gotta. Ash is trying to timeline it out because oh god his best friend is dying if Puck dies from this then he won’t get to avenge Ariella, so he has to figure out who it’s for and how to solve it like Right Now, Fuck the Iron Kingdom, who is it for and why has it been going on for so long, and why is Puck so unconcerned about it. One thing leads to another, Meghan winds up going well Puck and Leanansidhe seem close, so maybe she’ll know.

Lea I will give you 25 American dollars not to be a snitch, Puck says.

Wow. All three of you are baby idiots, Lea says, who’s been watching her horrible little sibling figure do the equivalent of breathing in weedkiller incense for about 3 centuries and hoping it kills their forget-me-not garden faster than it kills the rest of their body. It’s very clearly for Prince Ash. They developed it within the same year Ash swore his murder oath.

Turns out being in close contact with the person who swore to kill you and that you have a terminal flower disease for is not an ideal position to be in. And Puck’s illness has progressed much more quickly than it had been for the past three centuries with everything that’s gone down. So Stacilia’s treatment has been falling behind.

You all suck, Puck says, bordering on tears and/or hysteric laughter. And it’s not like I like him romantically anyway so it hardly matters anymore, he doesn’t care for friendship when there’s a girl to fall in love with. Let me tend my shitty flower garden in peace.

Which. Rude. But not an entirely inaccurate reading of the situation.

There are no easy ways out of this.

[lilianne-tarot]

PLEASE READ THIS

NOTE: this is a very long post, but to everyone who has followed me for some time, I would request them all to pls give this a few minutes and read this 🫶🏻

So, this is something I’ve been meaning to say for quite some time now. But life was really busy, and some really unfortunate events over the past two months, which kept me very occupied. 

People who actively engage in the tarot community may already know that heavy energies have surrounded the community for a while, and a lot has been happening.

I hope you all take a moment to read and think about what I say here before jumping to any conclusions.

SOOOO, I’ve been learning tarot since 2019. In the beginning, I used to learn through the guidebook that came with the deck I bought. Later, I started learning through online resources and a few books I purchased. I also used to watch a lot of tarot readings on YouTube to understand how to do readings in real life. I practiced consistently from 2019 to 2021, but school got really busy, and I had to stop completely for a while.

I had a file where I used to write down the meanings of tarot cards when I was in my early phase. Whenever I came across any meaning or any point I found interesting, I’d write it there. In 2022, I saw a few people using AI for tarot readings. Back then, I wasn’t even aware of such tools existed. Out of curiosity, I searched for the meanings of a few cards using AI, and I’ll admit, I found some of them interesting and wrote a few down in my file. But very soon, I realized the downsides of using AI, especially how wrong it can feel in the field of spirituality, so I completely gave up on it. Still, this might be the reason why a huge part of my tarot vocabulary sounds a certain way.

Secondly, English is not my first language, so sometimes I can feel insecure or unsure about how I express myself. Initially, I had a certain image in my mind of how I wanted my tarot readings to sound. I could easily achieve that tone and expression in my own language, but when I tried to do it in English, it didn’t sound the way I wanted, so I wanted to achieve it badly. So, I started reading books, in that genre (not related to tarot)which might help me to improve my vocabulary. But in my readings, sometimes, or say,  lot of the time ,I would write sentences in my native language and then use online translation apps to translate them into English, sometimes even rephrasing tools to improve my messy sentences. Initially, I didn’t realise that this could be problematic too. And even if my own English didn’t always match the image I had in my head, I now understand that I shouldn’t have relied on those tools. So I’ve stopped using them as well. Although I might have used translation or rephrasing tools but those were only in a few parts of my readings; most of them were completely and purely my own writing.

I became aware of both of these issues, and my conscience told me I needed to do something. So now, I’m working on redoing my past readings. If you’ve followed me for some time, you might notice that some of them have changed, and I'll redo the rest of them as well in the coming few days. I assumed this would be the best course of action, regardless of the fact that it’s taking so much more time, but honestly, it made me feel good, so I did it. I even deleted a few posts, thinking I’ll redo them properly later.

People sometimes assume my personality is sketchy or that I’m scheming, and… well, I blame my Scorpio Moon for that 😭. At this point, I don’t even mind, because it happens a lot in real life too, haha.

Also, in my personal readings, I always include the names of all the cards and pictures of the actual cards I pull. The readings resonate with so many people, whether it’s a pick-a-card or a personal reading, so you know they were genuinely channeled, even if I used an app to help rephrase things just to improve grammar.

If you read all the way till here, I’m really happy and grateful that you took the time. This was a very vulnerable post for me, and I’m glad I shared it. I feel so good after doing it.

To sum it all up: I don’t use AI to “do” my readings, and I can say that confidently.

I just felt like I should say all this all especially to the people who genuinely support me. I don’t think there’s anything to hide, so I made this post. If you want to speak with me about anything, my heart is always open💗

Thank you so much, truly 🫶🏻