#learn to not speak their mind and lose their confidence that's what this is about and i was like oh!

[maddy-ferguson]

i hate that "girlhood" is used to talk about idk the essence of being a woman the universal experiences that all women (girls) share (usually makeup and idk shopping and being bad at math i guess) instead of idk the experience of growing up as a girl lmao

[aropride]

anyone mind if i lyricpost. THE FLOOR CAVED IN AND I'M BATHED IN MY SINS THIS RAGE WITHIN'S FINNA BREAK MY SKIN. BINGE TO SLOW THESE RAGING WINDS, THIS STAIN ON MY BRAIN CANNOT BE CLEANSED, DEAR GOD IF YOU REALLY MEANT HOLD THAT SHIT, LOVE ME FOR WHAT I AM I REFUSE TO REPENT TO A MAN OF OMNISCIENCE. AND IF YOU DON'T GET IT MOTHERFUCKER YOU'RE NOT HIP, AIN'T PIERCED MY SKIN IN GOOD TIME, THAT'S A WIN, MY MOTHER'S GLAD THAT I'M NOT DEAD, THAT'S A WIN I DON'T NEED TO LISTEN TO YOUR UNTETHERED OPINION. SCORCHING HOT TAKES ON THE MORALITY OF MEN WITH YOUR PERSONAL SPIN, I WILL DO WHAT I MUST FUCK WHAT YOU THINK IF YOU'RE INTIMIDATED BY GREATNESS GO AHEAD SHRINK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part fourteen —other parts

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader words: 3k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn't here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival.

Blue holds her arm out, stopping you from taking another step.

"Sh. I see one."

Up ahead, a squirrel stills on a tree, beady eyes unblinking. In a matter of seconds, Blue throws her knife and pins it to the bark through the stomach. 

"Nice," you comment. "You got it on the first try this time."

In your hand is the other squirrel she killed for you. Ghost started working on your bow yesterday. He didn't say anything to you about it, but you spotted him sitting on the porch chiseling away at a hunk of oak. Until he's finished, you've struck another deal: helping Blue skin the rabbits in exchange for her killing squirrels with you. She's better at killing them with a knife than you are. 

"This is good practice for me." She wriggles the knife out and hands you the kill. "Poor guy didn't see it coming."

"Probably better that way."

She slips the knife back to her ankle. "Do you need more? Or is two enough."

"Two is enough. I saw these flowers by the trench that I think are edible."

"You can eat flowers?" She makes a face. The two of you begin heading back toward the camp. You didn't go off too far with her. Ghost said she wasn't allowed to go past the pond without him. Truthfully, you were surprised he let her go with you at all. 

"Yeah. Pink Sorrel. They taste lemony, and I'll add the leaves, too. Like a salad."

"Yum," she says sarcastically. "Did Paul teach you that?"

You nod. "He knew a lot about plants."

"Are you sure he didn't like you?" 

"Blue," you almost groan. "You've asked me this twice now."

"Well, you seemed to have spent a lot of time with him, and he taught you a lot of things."

"You can spend time with someone and learn things from them without... liking them."

"I wouldn't know," she shrugs, waving her hand around. "There are no boys here for me to spend time with besides Ghost." 

"Paul didn't like me in that way," you reaffirm. "Besides, he's dead."

There is a lingering pause as a cloud rolls over the sun, turning everything dim before it passes. The weather these past few days has been fluctuating like true spring. Cold showers in the morning, intense sunlight by noon, and clouds that come and go. The cabbages Blue planted have sprouted fat, juicy leaves. You've mentally scolded yourself for not including seeds in your deal with Ghost. 

"So when are you and Ghost going to start training or whatever?" Blue speaks up, switching subjects.

"Training?" you repeat.

"He told me you wanted to learn some things." She glances at you. "Look, let me just warn you, he can be a real hard ass. One time, he made me climb up and down a tree twenty times without stopping. And another time, he made me throw knives over and over until I hit the exact same spot on the tree again."

Right. Somehow, that last request you made of him has slipped your mind. You did ask him to teach you how to better defend yourself against other people.

It's been over a week now, and the two of you still haven't talked much except for the necessities. Honestly, it's probably best that way. Maintaining a clinical relationship with him should keep the peace and maybe even earn more of his trust. You're growing confident that he doesn't see you as much of a threat anymore. Last night, you ran into him again after waking up from another dream, and all he did was walk past you, step outside for a cigarette, and then go back to his room. He didn't seem suspicious of you being up at all.

That said, the reminder of the 'training' he's supposed to give you makes your teeth snag onto your lip. 

When you don't respond, Blue adds, "What exactly do you want him to show you? I hate to say it, but I don't think he'll give you one of his guns."

"No," you shake your head. "I don't want that. It's not Greys that I'm as worried about. As long I've got distance, I can use my bow for them. It's more about... other people. They get close. Too close."

"Well, you can always bite their nose off," she gives a bump to your shoulder.

You cringe. "I'd rather not have to do that again."

She pauses, looking at her boots. "What did it taste like?"

"Fucking awful. Probably the grossest thing I've ever experienced."

She looks up. "If you were a Grey, you would've loved it."

"Well, I'm human still, and I much prefer these guys." You wag the dead squirrels in front of her face and she laughs. If you could replace all her tears with that sound, you would.

"You still haven't answered my question," Blue tilts her head. "When are you getting started? Because I have some training in mind for you, too."

You arch a brow but don't question it. "Um. I don't know. Ghost hasn't said anything to me about it, and he's busy working on my bow right now."

"Why don't you ask him, then?" She shoots you a knowing smirk. "Are you scared of him, Twix?"

"No," you say all too quickly. "No... I'm not. I just don't know how to talk to him. He's not exactly approachable."

"Just do what I do. I say whatever I want to him. Except when he's pissed, then—" she freezes for a moment and lays a hand on your shoulder. "—it's better to shut up and listen. Believe me."

You speak under your breath. "Noted."

It's another dream that night which pushes you to actually confront him. The loud voices sharpen into images— a bloodied knife at your throat, a toothy smile, carved body parts. You wake up and grab your neck, expecting to feel severed tissue. Instead, you feel damp skin. Something bubbles up your throat and fills your mouth. Squirrel and Pink Sorrel. The taste makes you shudder, but you swallow your dinner back down. The dark, quiet living room mocks you. 

The morning after that, you find him on the porch. It's not raining, but the air pricks the back of your neck with dew. You've already bathed and woven your hair into braids, which is growing longer by the day and bordering on an inconvenience.

Ghost tilts his head the second a wood plank creaks beneath your footsteps, tearing his gaze away from the assortment of carving knives in his lap. You've caught him in the moment before he's started to work on your bow again.

He is wearing that balaclava that makes him look more man than ghost, along with a black hoodie and faded, brown jacket. The whites of his eyes are visible, slowly sliding up to yours. You fully realize he isn't going to greet you with a hello, and standing there in an uncomfortable silence doesn't interest you, so you bite the bullet.

"I want to start that other thing I asked you for."

He seems to know what you're referring to. "Right now?"

Your nails dig into your palms, realizing that you should've waited for a time when he wasn't preoccupied. Though, he's hardly ever not doing something. 

Blue was right. Something about him has you subconciously on the defensive; it's something you want to get over if this living arrangement is going to be long-term, which you'd prefer it to be. It was about two months ago now that he nearly killed you, and since then, he has kept you alive ten times over. Maybe you should focus on that: on the hand that pulled you up, on the warm jacket over your shoulders, on the bow he is making.

"Whenever you have the chance. But— now, if we could."

Ghost lowers his eyebrows and seems to think it over. "Now is fine. Your bow will have to wait a bit, then."

"That's okay," you speak as you exhale. "I don't mind."

It's at that moment Blue pushes through the front door and you almost startle. "Can I come with you guys?"

Ghost folds his knives up and responds in a firm tone. "No. You have work to finish up."

"But my leg is hurting," she retorts lightly. "I'd rather sit and watch you guys."

"Your leg was just fine yesterday when you were hunting and climbing trees." 

"That was yesterday. Today, it hurts." She bites her lip and shrugs.

"How convinient." He gives her a dry look.

"So is that a yes?"

"It's a no."

With a groan, she goes back inside. 

Ghost escorts you out of the gate and towards a small clearing nestled within a circle of trees. As you follow behind him, you find your eyes straying to his broad back and for a moment, you wonder if maybe you've changed your mind— or maybe you want to tell him to wait until Blue can come join.

But you remind yourself that survival is a proactive game; you can't laze around and keep getting sick from the memories. You need to shut them away into that box you've made, and in the meantime, get stronger.

"Here is good," he says, stopping.

It's been awhile since you've done anything like this. There were plenty of times Paul 'trained' you. He used to make you shoot at the trees until your back muscles were practically immobile. As an ex forest ranger, he wasn't much of a fighter. His advice was always this: "Don't let anyone or anything get close enough to where you have to fight them."

Clearly, his advice can only go so far.

In the five years you were at your old camp, you managed to keeps things at a distance for the most part. A few Greys had snuck up on you, resulting in thrashing and wrestling around to avoid bites. But there were only one or two times that you had to engage in close combat with a human. The few other survivors you encountered were usually punished by Paul's rifle or your arrows. 

You shed your jacket and hang it on a branch, left in just Ghost's shirt and your jeans. "So, um, what should I start with? Running laps?"

"You want to learn how to defend yourself, not run a marathon."

"Right." You nod and rub at the gooseflesh that sprouts on your arm. You turn to face him. "I was joking."

Ghost ignores your comment with a pensive expression, staring you down across the short distance. You put on a blank face and meet his eyes expectantly. 

The silence stretches for a second longer than what would be deemed normal. Is this just how he is, then? Or is it only with you? You're about to say something to put an end to it when he suddenly crosses his arms over his chest.

"You were a nurse." It should come out like a question, but it's more of a statement. His voice nearly makes you jump. 

You can't help it; you look away. "Um. I... wasn't, actually."

Why is he bringing this up? Never once has he asked anything about you. In fact, you sometimes toy with the thought that he might have forgotten your real name by now.

"Figured," he says.

You frown, flashing him a confused look. "What? Why?"

"You're a bit too young to have been a nurse five years ago."

You think back to the moment he found you with an inward wince. "So you knew I wasn't telling the truth?"

"It didn't matter if you were or not."

That's right. I don't need a nurse, he said. 

"It wasn't a total lie," you clarify, dropping your arms at your sides. "I was in nursing school."

He rubs his chin. "You should understand the body, then— its weak points."

Your fingers flex before they gesture to your face. "The nose and eyes are obvious ones. But... but if someone grabs me from behind like," you forcefully inhale, "Like you did, then I won't be able to reach them."

He gives a short nod, then looms closer. You will your boots to remain planted in the damp soil despite the overwhelming proximity and intimidating mass of him. You blink up as he points a gloved finger to the hinge of his jaw. "There's this, too. Pretty easy to dislocate." His fingers move to side of his corded neck. "And here. The throat is weak and vital."

"I still wouldn't be able to reach those," you point out.

"You have more than just your arms, Twix."

"So my head, then?"

"That's one way." He moves a step back and you release a breath you didn't realize you were holding. "Why don't you show me what you'd do— give it a try."

The suggestion should be expected given what you're asking of him— of course he would have to touch you at somepoint. Yet, it makes you stiffen. He motions his hand for you to turn around and with great hesitance, you comply, until you hear the crunch of twigs beneath his boots as he closes in behind you. You stare straight ahead at a tree and focus on breathing. 

"Relax. I'm not going to hurt you."

His flat tone makes your eyes twitch in irritation and you are glad he can't see them. "Yeah. I know."

Just as he did all that time ago, his burly arms wrap around you, though not as firm and threatening. Your feet don't hang and you're not skin and bones this time, but once again, you are imprisoned against a hard chest. Your lungs pick up their pace and an artery in your neck jolts. 

"Just show me what you'd do," he says slowly, warm breath fanning across the top of your hair. "Don't worry about hurting me."

You wriggle against him, but even without issuing all his strength, it's useless. You stomp on his foot, figuring that toes are pretty vulnerable, but his thick boot hurts your sole more than you could possibly have hurt him. Your eyes begin to sting. You suddenly find yourself panting in frustration. Before you can even think about trying to use your head, full-blown panic unfurls in your chest. 

"Let go," you say under your breath. He must not hear you. Your voice turns to a snarled hiss. "Fucking let go of me."

His hold immediately loosens and you stagger forward, creating much-needed distance. Heavy breaths scratch up your throat. You wipe the back of your hand over your forehead and close your eyes for a moment, seeing blood and burnt skin against the backs of your lids. When you reopen them, Ghost is staring at you. The humiliation sets in as a red flush on your cheeks.

"Sorry," you shake your head and stare up at the clouded sky. "Just— maybe we should go back." Your arms hug around your stomach to keep its contents contained. "We can start this another day."

Throwing up in front of him again is low on the list of things you'd enjoy doing. He's already seen you near-death— no need to add a mental breakdown to your repertoire. Your lips press tightly together as you head to the tree for your jacket, but his gruff voice pauses your fingers against the embroidered flag on its sleeve.

"This isn't going to work if you don't tell me what is bothering you."

Your hand drops. "What?"

"What happened when you went to get the ammo, Twix?" he presses.

"I..." 

To tell him would be to pry open that box you've made and let him peek inside. He has never even asked a single question about you until today, so you press onto the lid, tight, and turn to face him with pleading eyes. "I don't want to talk about it with you, Ghost. Don't make me."

In response, he lifts up his hands in resignation. "Alright." He lowers them. "Why don't you at least tell me how you handled it?"

"Why?"

He taps a finger to his masked temple. "So I can understand how you think. How you keep surviving all this shit."

The wave of nausea settles as you form your response. "I... I burned him. He cleaned the bite on my arm with some alcohol. I distracted him a little and then smashed the bottle on his head. I had my lighter, so I used it."

Slowly, he nods, as if your words are not all that surprising to him. "And how about at the base when I left you?"

"There was that Grey," you remind him. "I bit the guy's nose and pushed him into it. If it hadn't been there, Blue and I would be dead. You see? I survived because I was lucky. I hardly know what I'm doing."

Ghost argues. "You survived because you saw opportunities and took them. You were smart about it."

"And what about when there are no opportunities? I will just panic like I did now." The tightness in your chest turns into something that has you roughly grabbing the jacket and sheathing your bare arms. "Let's just go back now.”

This time, he doesn't protest. The silence that clouds the short walk back is expected on his part, and purposeful on yours. 

[straylightdream]

hopelessly devote

featuring: werewolf han jisung x f. reader

synopsis: his life changed unexpectedly and he’s attempting to cope with the inner turmoil he faces as he accepts the beast living inside him.

genre: wolf au, college au, smut, angst, mutual pining, friends to lovers, roommates to lovers

warnings: angst, talks about being a werewolf, and explicit sexual content (smut warnings below the cut)

word count: 5.7k

𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬.

an: I’m reworking and old story and starting a connecting series with skz as werewolves. Thank you @therhythmafterthesummer for helping me edit and figure out this story.

warnings: protected sex, fingering, soft dom jisung, mentions of marking and bruising, knotting

It’s a quiet night, but it’s one of those nights where you haven’t been able to fall asleep. You have too much on your mind to actually fall asleep. The sound of your roommate knocking on your bedroom door catches you attention, before it slowly opens.

“Can I come in?”

Rolling over so you’re looking at the door, “yeah.” Jisung stares at you with sad eyes. Patting the bed next to you he joins you

He seems tense as he lies next to you. There’s a worried look that’s painted across his face. Laying on your side you stare at him.

“Jisung what’s wrong?”

A heavy sigh passes his lips as he turns on his side to stare at you. “The full moon is in two days.”

You can’t help but feel sorry for him. This is only going to be his second full moon and from what he’s told you the first one was very painful. He was a complete mess the following day.

“Has Chan or Changbin mentioned if it will get easier?”

“Chan said as soon as I start changing freely without the full moon it will start to barely hurt,” he doesn’t sound confident at all as he speaks to you.

“Why don’t you try changing without the moon?” You reach out, taking his hand in yours.

“YN, I’m afraid of losing control each time I change,” another heavy sigh passes his lips as he gently squeezes your hand. You’ve been by his side from the moment he got bit. You took him out to the forest the first full moon he changed. You stood by his side as he screamed in pain changing for the first time. You stayed there until he begged you to drive away. His number one fear has always been hurting you.

“There’s so many things I’m not ready for. First I have to learn how to change on command. So that each time I change it doesn’t feel like I’m dying and then I need to figure out how I even get through my first rut.”

Your cheeks burn at the thought of Jisung having to go through a rut. When he first changed Chan and Changbin came over to let him know the ups and downs of his new life. Jisung was so overwhelmed by all the information he started rambling on about it and mentioned how bad his rut will be at first.

“Do you have an idea on what you’re gonna do about your rut?” You aren’t sure why you ask. Maybe it’s because Jisung is your best friend and roommate and you’re just worried about him, or maybe it’s because you have a crush on him and part of you can’t seem to push it away.

“I’m not sure. I might have Chan and Changbin lock me up. They said the first time will be by far the worst and that afterwards I’m just gonna be,” he pauses and looks at you with his cheeks flushed. “I’m just going to be pretty horny.” He swallows loudly and stares at you awkwardly, “Chan said I’m just gonna be on edge a lot.”

“Does anything help?” you’re playing with fire by asking this but you can’t seem to stop.

“Chan said I just should act on my urges. That relieving it makes everything better.” The tips of his ears are bright red.

“I guess having a girlfriend would help,” you let out an awkward laugh.

“Yeah probably,” he drags his thumb across your skin catching your attention.

“Did you want to sleep in here tonight” it’s not the first time you would share a bed with him. Jisung has always been a person who loves skinship and often loves cuddling with you.

“Yeah I don’t exactly want to be alone. If I go to my room I’m just going to lay there and overthink everything.”

He moves so he’s laying on his back staring at the ceiling. A heavy sigh passes his lips as he looks so torn up. Without thinking you move closer to him resting your head on his chest and putting your arm across his stomach holding yourself closer to him.

“You're not alone Jisung. You never have been,” you listen to his heart and snuggle up closer to him.

“I don’t know what I would do without you,” his hand gently runs up your side. “My greatest fear is doing something that would hurt you.” His voice is shaky as he speaks to you. “I need to learn to control this so I don’t have to worry about something snapping inside me.”

You look up at him to see his eyes are glassy, “Jisung I’ve never been afraid of you. Even that night in the forest, I wasn’t afraid of you. I was just worried about you being hurt.”

You hold him tighter wanting to let him know that he's safe with you. You love him so much, and it hurts to watch him suffer through everything he’s going through.

“What happens if I hurt you?”

“It’s not going to happen, so stop worrying about it,” you know that even when he gets frustrated with you there’s never been an ounce of malice towards you. Everything with the beast inside him heightens all his emotions at one point or another but he wouldn’t ever hurt you.

“If it makes you feel better this full moon I’ll stay far away,” you know he regretted letting you go to the forest with him the first time he changed.

“Yeah that’s probably for the best,” he sighs.

“Will you be alone?” Your stomach twists just thinking about the thought of him being alone out there suffering.

“No Chan will be there, and he said Minho will come along too.”

“Okay as long as you’re not alone.”

You lay there in his arms until you both fall asleep. Your dreams consist of your best friend who is holding you close. You dream of a lazy summer afternoon where you’re both laying on your bedroom floor as teenagers laughing. Things were easier back then. You crave the normalcy of your teenage years, but you wouldn’t give up how things are now. Even though Jisung is a wolf and you wish more than anything you could take his curse away from him, you would stand by his side until the end of the world.

The morning light shines through your curtains waking you slowly. You nuzzle closer into the chest of your best friend. A soft yawn passes your lips as you close your eyes.

“Good morning,” he says softly.

“Good morning,” you slowly pull away, stretching your body.

-

The day of the full moon Jisung is on edge. He paces around your apartment for most of the morning. In the afternoon he starts telling you about his plan for attempting to work on learning to change at will.

You want nothing more than to just hold him and tell him he’ll be okay, but you know you can’t do that.

Around sunset he grabs his backpack and starts to head out. He gives you one final goodbye and holds you tight for a long moment before pressing his lips to the top of your head.

“I’ll be back after sunrise. Please stay here, and please be safe,” he says softly.

“I’ll be okay Jisung, I need you to stay safe and not worry about me.”

As he walks out the door you lock it and press your back to the door. You take a deep breath trying to hold yourself together but you can’t help the sob that breaks as you start to worry about your best friend. You know the pain he’s going to suffer through tonight is going to be excruciating. You cry for too long before you force yourself to pull it together.

You try your hardest to keep yourself distracted as the sun fully sets and the full moon rises. Looking out the window that looks onto the city, there’s an aching in your chest as you worry about Jisung.

As night comes you lay in bed barely able to sleep. You get maybe two hours of sleep as you wait for Jisung to return home. The alarm clock on your nightstand reads six in the morning. You listen carefully hearing the front door open. Leaping out of bed, you run to the living area to find an exhausted Jisung walking in. He’s dressed in a pair of sweats and a shirt. His hair looks a mess and his eyes are red like he’s been crying. Without a second thought you throw your body into his and hold him tight.

“Are you okay?” you ask, holding on.

“Yeah I’m gonna be okay,” he says as tears slowly slide down his cheeks. “It was just as hard as last time.”

Pulling away from him you reach up and wipe his tears away. He looks completely defeated as he stands there in front of you. Your heart breaks at how sad he looks. “How do I keep doing this?”

“Chan says it gets easier,” you try to remain positive as you try to hold yourself together.

“When is it gonna get easier?” He drops his head as the tears continue to slide down his cheek.

“Unfortunately I don’t know, but trust what Chan and Changbin say,” you brush away his tears gently. “Maybe before the next moon you should try to change on your own?”

“Okay,” he sighs. “Can we please nap together? I just need to be held.”

“Of course.”

Laying in his bed he lays on his side with you pressed right behind him holding him tight.

-

Over the next three weeks Jisung is gone often. Whenever he’s not in school he’s with Chan, Changbin and Minho attempting to learn to change at will. They’re doing everything in their power to help Jisung cope with how his life is now.

The first few days he comes home he’s just as emotionally drained as he was the last full moon. About a week in he just seems dazed and tired. You haven’t had to hold him as he falls asleep.

He’s got a few days until his next full moon and he’s a ball of nervous energy.

Sitting on the couch next to you a heavy sigh passes his lips. You look over at him raising your eyebrow curious to what’s on his mind.

“Jisung?”

“My first rut is near,” he spats out, out of nowhere.

Your eyes go wide knowing that his first rut is going to be intense.

“Minho says that from when I got turned the timeline lines up that it’s going to happen shortly after this full moon.”

“Okay you can get through this. What’s the plan?” You assume Jisung and the small pack of boys have already made up a plan.

“I need to stay far away from you, so I won’t hurt you,” his voice is laced with worry as you stare at him.

“I’m not afraid of you hurting me,” you can’t understand why he’s so worried about hurting you.

“The boys said I’m going to have this hunger inside me that will make it where my brain will only want one thing. I can’t let anything happen to you.”

You know exactly what the one thing he’s going to need is. There’s this little part in your brain that wonders what it would be like to let him have his way with you. What it would be like to feed the beast.

“Okay. I’ll do whatever you want. Where are you going? I’m assuming you won’t be anywhere near me.”

“They said that even the scent of you could push me over the edge. I’m going to stay at Chan’s. He said most of the pack will be there to watch over me. Hyunjin just finished his first rut and he said it was intense.”

“What did Hyunjin do to get through it?” You probably shouldn’t ask but you want to know.

“Hyunjin has a girlfriend,” Jisung says with his eyes trained on you. “Hyunjin said it got to be too much and she had to help.”

“Are you going to have someone help you?” The thought of a random girl being with him intimately makes you feel sick to your stomach but you won’t ever admit that to him.

“No I can’t risk hurting anyone, and we both know I can’t just hook up with a random person.”

-

It’s the day of another full moon and Jisung is just as nervous as ever. The boys have taught him to change on command but he’s still scared. Every time he’s been out with the boys he’s come back slightly dazed and exhausted. He says it doesn’t hurt like it used to, that his body has adjusted to it. He says it still hurts but it doesn’t feel like every single bone in his body is breaking.

Sitting on his bed you watch as he packs his backpack for his night. A heavy sigh passes his lips as he stops and turns to face you. He pushes his fingers through his hair and drops his head.

“What’s wrong Jisung?”

“I feel like I had so many plans with my life. Between school, a career and wanting a relationship and this curse ruined everything.” He sounds completely frustrated by the cards he has been dealt.

“You can still finish school, and find the job you want. This isn’t something that is gonna stop someone from loving you,” reach for his hand and pull him down so he’s sitting on the bed next to you.

“How can someone love me when I’m a monster who could hurt them?” He can’t look at you as he speaks.

You wish you were more brave enough to tell him you were in love with him, helping him go through this has done nothing but make you love him even more.

“Does Hyunjin’s girlfriend love him?”

“Yeah they’ve been together a year or so.”

“Do any of the other boys have partners?” You reach over taking his hand in yours.

“Minho has a girl he refers to as his mate.” You can’t help but be stuck on the thought of them having mates. What does being a mate exactly entail?

“What does being a mate mean?”

“They haven’t told me all the details about it, but Minho mentioned that you feel an intense connection with someone. You also mark them,” his cheeks burn bright red, mentioning marking.

“What’s marking?” You can’t help but be curious.

“Um,” he’s clearly embarrassed now. “You bite the spot between their shoulder and their neck and it marks their partner as theirs. It tells other wolves to stay away.”

“Oh,” you can’t help the burning feeling that takes over your cheeks.

He stands up and looks out the window to see the sun is starting to go down. “I need to meet the boys in the forest.” He leans down and gently presses a kiss to your forehead gently. “Stay safe please. I’ll be back after sunrise.” Your conversation you just shared has left you with the feeling of your head swimming.

You follow him through your shared apartment and stop at the front door.

He stops at the door and gives you a sad smile, “Jisung, before you go I just want you to know that you can have a future with someone. That this curse doesn’t make you unloveable. Believe me someone will love and care for you.”

“I hope so because I want to love someone in return. I want to have a mate who isn’t afraid of the monster that’s in their bed.”

Stepping closer to him you rest your hand on cheek staring into his warm eyes, “you’ve never been a monster. There is absolutely nothing to be afraid of.”

-

Laying in bed at sunrise, you wait for Jisung to return home. The front door opens and you walk into the living room to find him standing there looking dazed. A heavy sigh passes his lips as he pushes his fingers through his messy hair.

He stands there staring at you with his warm eyes. He gives you a half smile and drops his backpack on the floor.

“How was it?” you ask, stepping towards him.

“It hurt, but not like it used to. I’m just really tired,” he says.

“Let’s go to bed,” you reach down, taking his hand in yours.

“I don’t deserve you,” he practically whispers.

“I’m always going to be here for you,” you pull him into your bed. Holding him close to you.

-

The last two days Jisung has been locked in his room. He’s even more easily frustrated than he normally is. Standing in the kitchen you listen carefully as Jisung’s bedroom door is open. He walks into the kitchen carrying a backpack.

“YN,” he sighs.

“Is it time?”

He nods as a sigh passes his lips, “I’m on edge and my brain is fogged. I need to leave. My brain wants to do things that it shouldn’t.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll be safe please don’t worry about me,” turns on his heels to walk out the door.

“Do I not get a hug goodbye?” He’s never left without saying goodbye.

“In all honesty your scent is sending me into overdrive. I think it’s best if we don’t.”

You can’t help the feeling of rejection that takes over you. He walks out the door and you can’t help but feel worried about him. You know how much he’s been dreading this.

The whole day you attempt to distract yourself by doing homework, but you can’t help but be worried about your best friend. At night you lay awake hoping to receive at least a text from Jisung letting you know he’s okay.

It’s ten in the morning when your phone starts ringing. Unfamiliar number is on your screen and you waste no time answering the phone quickly.

“Hello?”

“YN?” You immediately recognize the voice on the other side as Chan.

“Chan, is Jisung okay?” You’re suddenly worried your best friend is hurt or something is wrong.

“Jisung is in pain,” he sighs. “His first rut isn’t easy. We told him he needs to act on his needs somehow but he won’t listen. He just keeps moaning your name,” he pauses, giving you a moment to process everything he’s saying. “I don’t know much about your friendship or relationship with Jisung. But I haven’t ever heard him mention another girl other than you.”

“Is there anything I can do?” You don’t know what you can do to help but you don’t want him in pain.

“He’s gonna kill me for even calling you, but he needs someone to help him relieve himself.”

You swallow attempting to process what he just said. “Are you asking me to have sex with him?”

“YN I’m really sorry, but yes.”

“Okay, text me your address.”

Hanging up the photo you took a moment to gather yourself. This was absolutely insane and you probably shouldn’t be so willing to do this. Looking in the mirror you push your fingers through your hair and take a deep breath. Roaming around your room you start packing up an overnight bag. You aren’t exactly sure what you’ll need or how long you’ll be gone but you start packing some clothes to change into and some hygiene essentials.

The drive to Chan’s place feels like it's taking a lifetime. Your head is swimming as you drive there. Pulling up to a house on the edge of the forest you find Chan sitting outside with a blonde boy you’ve seen a few times.

“Thank you for coming,” Chan says, walking towards you. “This is Hyunjin by the way.”

“Nice to meet you,” Hyunjin says, giving you a little smile.

“Where’s Jisung?” you ask.

“Follow me,” Chan says.

He leads you into the busy house. Walking inside you see a few of boys you’ve seen before. He leads you up stairs to a room down the hall.

“He’s in there.”

You hear a loud moan that sounds a mixture of pain and pleasure.

Opening the door you step inside and find Jisung shirtless laying in bed in nothing but a pair of boxers. You can’t help stare at his toned body on display.

His eyes snap to you and he jumps out of bed quickly. “YN?” He stands there staring at you with lust blown eyes. “Why are you here?”

You drop your bag on the floor by the bag as you stare at him. “Chan said you were in pain,” you take your sweater off sitting it on top of the dresser next to you.

“I’m here to help,” you’re absolutely insane and you know it. You literally came across town to have sex with your best friend because he’s in the middle of his first rut.

“Do you have any idea what you’re offering?” He swallows loudly and steps back. “Medicine doesn’t fix this.”

“Jisung I know what I’m offering,” you take a step towards him.

“We shouldn’t do this,” he shakes his head.

There is a stinging feeling in your chest, a feeling of rejection. “It’s okay if you don’t like me like that or you’re not attracted to me. I just thought it might be nicer than some random girl.”

“YN it’s not because I’m not attracted to you or I don’t like you. I’m just worried I’m gonna hurt you. I want to knot you so bad,” he practically growls. You blush at the mention of him knotting you. This isn’t the first time you’ve heard of knotting. Early on after he was changed he mentioned it when he was rambling on one day nervously, and when you asked questions be awkwardly explained his new anatomy.

There’s a warmth that washes over your body at the thought of Jisung being rough with you and you can’t help but wonder what it would feel like for him to stretch you open with his knot.

His breathing is heavy as he steps towards you with dark eyes. He’s looking at you like you’re the only thing the world.

“You need to leave now,” he growls.

“Jisung, I don’t want to. I want to help.”

He inhales deeply, stopping right in front of you, “oh my god you smell intoxicating.”

“I can do whatever you need me to.”

He steps closer to you. There’s barely any room between you as he puts his hand on your cheek tilting your head back. He swallows loudly looking at you with a hunger in his eyes.

“I might say some stuff I don’t mean. I’m really sorry if I make you feel uncomfortable.”

“What could you possibly say that makes me uncomfortable? Jisung it’s me, I’m your best friend.”

He leans his head back taking a deep breath, “my body burns thinking about what I want to do to you. The thought of knotting you makes me feel like I’m going insane.”

You look down between you to see his hardened length straining against his boxers.

“Jisung do whatever you want,” you say softly.

His eyes snap down to yours with blown pupils. He practically growls staring at you. “Don’t say shit like that. I need you to keep me in check. Tell me I can’t be rough. Tell me I’m just your friend.”

His last sentence catches you off guard, you’re taken out of the moment as you knit your eyebrows together, “Jisung why do I have to tell you you’re just my friend?”

He swallows, stepping back shaking his head, “because if that’s not burned into my mind I could do something stupid.”

“What could you possibly do?”

“I could mark you.”

Your eyes go wide as you process what that means, “do wolves mark their friends?”

“Wolves don’t feel a need to mark someone unless they’re in love with them,” he shakes his head and moves away from you.

Reaching down grabbing his hand you stop him from walking away from you, “are you in love with me?”

“Please don’t make me answer that,” he sighs.

“Jisung tell me if you love me or not,” you demand as a sea of emotions starts to take over you. Your eyes start to brim with tears.

“I’m a monster. YN I can’t hurt you, there’s literally something inside me right now screaming at me to shove you against the wall and take you right now. It’s taking everything in me not to rip your clothes off with my teeth, shove my knot deep inside you.”

You can’t help but rub your thighs together at the mention of him ripping your clothes off with his teeth. You try to push away the inappropriate thought, “that doesn’t answer my question.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he steps closer to you again.

“You’re hurting me right by not telling me if you love me or not.”

There’s a long moment of silence between you as Jisung stares at you. The room feels small and an aching feeling is starting in your chest. “Han Jisung, if you're too afraid to admit how you’re feeling I’ll tell you how I feel. I’m hopelessly in love with you. I loved you before you turned and I’m pretty sure I fell even more in love with being by your side during this.”

“YN I’m so afraid, I love you so much and I can’t lose you.”

“You won’t ever lose me,” you know his rut is heightening all his senses. You stand right in front of him and smile at him softly. “Let me help you through this. Not as your friend but as someone who is head over heels in love with you.”

He nods his head, putting his hands on your hips and moving you closer to him. “Please don’t let me get too rough with you. I’ll try my hardest not to hurt you with my knot.”

“Okay.”

He leans down, crashing his lips into yours for a heated kiss. Your fingers tangle in his hair holding him close to you. There’s a warmth that washes over you as your lips move together.

Stepping away from you with a wild look in his eyes he practically growls, “I need you naked.”

You can’t help but smile stepping away from him. You waste no time stripping down to just your underwear. You’re completely bare from the waist up staring at him.

“You’re stunning,” he says, reaching out and taking your breast in one hand. “I can’t even say all the things I want to do to you.”

His lips crash into yours like a wave crashing on the shoreline. His hands grip your sides holding you close to him. You can’t help but moan as his hand moves down to grip your butt pulling you close.

Tilting your head back, his lips trail down your neck gently nipping at the skin.

“Jisung,” you moan loudly.

“I never thought I would hear you moan my name,” he groans with his lips against your skin.

“Please get fully naked and lay on the bed so I don’t manhandle you,” he steps away from you.

“Okay,” he’s trying his hardest not to hurt you.

Stripping away your last layer of clothes you lay down on the full size bed under the window. He strips away his own clothes and his hardened length slaps against his stomach catching your attention.

He crawls on the bed and sits on his hunches between your legs. His hands rub and down your sensitive skin on your inner thighs.

“I’ve wanted this forever for so long. Even before I turned, but when I turned I just craved you even more,” he groans. He presses his lips on your stomach. “There’s this voice inside my head that just keeps telling me all things I want to do to you. You turn me on so much it’s hard to control myself.”

“Jisung do whatever you want to me,” you can’t help but wonder about all the dirty things he’s thought about doing to you.

“I can’t lose control, no matter how much I want to lose myself in you,” he runs his finger through your already wet folds. “I can’t hurt you.”

His index finger does lazy circles on your sensitive bundle of nerves as his other hand rubs your thigh. You moan softly at the overwhelming feeling. Your eyes are focused on him as he stares at you. His finger slides into you slowly.

“Jisung please enough of this. I just want you,” you moan.

He moves away from you and lays on the bed next to you. You look over at him confused on what he’s doing.

“Condoms are in the nightstand, I need you on top. I can’t risk getting too rough. Hyunjin’s girlfriend still has bruises from Hyunjin first rut.”

Crawling off the bed you grab a foil packet from the night stand and tear it open. Crawling onto the bed you slide the rubber down his hardened length. He groans as you touch him. He’s so hard it looks absolutely painful. You straddle his waist with his erection right in front of you. Biting your bottom lip you stare at Jisung who looks feral staring up at you. Taking his length in one hand you move so you’re hovering over him. He holds his breath as you slowly sink down. Once he fills you completely you sit there on him with your hands resting on his chest.

“Han Jisung I love you,” leaning down your nose rested against his. You press your lips to his for a heated kiss.

“I love you so much, and I really need you to move because I feel like I’m dying.”

Pulling away you rest your hands on his chest as you start to move your body up and down his length. His hands tightly grip your hips as you move up and down his length. The room is filled with the echoing sounds of skin hitting skin, and the low moans passing Jisung’s lips. The sight of Jisung under you with his bottom lip caught between his teeth is a sight you want to remember for the rest of your life.

“Please go faster,” he whimpers. It’s clear he’s trying his hardest to keep control of himself.

“Anything for you,” you moan.

You pick up the pace going as quickly as you can. His hand moves to grip your butt kneading your skin and earning a low moan from you.

His head rolls back and you see the sight of his fangs showing. Your hand moves towards his jaw tilting his head down to look at you. “Are you gonna mark me?” You ask if his fangs are showing because he wants to mark you. The thought of him marking is so intriguing to you, and you can’t quite explain why.

“I can’t. Not yet,” he growls.

“Did Hyunjin mark his girlfriend?”

He grips your hips tightly causing you to still completely. His eyes are wild as he stares at you as he sits up holding your body close to him as you sit on his lap.

“He marked her, but this is different.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t just mark you because I told you I love you.”

You run your fingers through his hair and he softens under your touch, “am I your mate?”

“I believe so. I feel a connection towards you I haven’t ever felt towards someone before. I love you so much.”

“Then why don’t you mark me?”

“Because I want this to be more romantic. I don’t want to do it just because I feel like I’m losing my mind,” he sighs, dropping his head to your shoulder. His lips gently press a kiss to the area he would mark.

“Okay Jisung,” you push him back down on the bed. You smile down at him as you start to move your hips again.

“You better take me on a date after this,” you say, rolling your hips. A small smile spreads across his lips as he stares up at you.

“I will do anything for you,” he says, gripping your hips again.

You ride him until you find your release. The coil in your stomach snaps and a warm wave washes over you, the sweet release you find is unlike anything you have ever felt before. Throwing your head back you moan his name loudly not caring if any of the other boys in the house hear you. His hand tightly grips your hips as he continues to move you up and down his length as he chases his own release. There’s a stretching feeling in your core you've never experienced before. Your eyes go wide realizing his knot is expanding. You moan his name adjusting to the feeling.

He moves your body slowly up and down his length. Each time his slowly expanding knot catches your entrance you can’t help but moan.

“Are you going to let me knot you and fill you up?” He groans. The lusted filled haze is taking over his brain.

Silently you nod unable to form words. “Does it hurt baby?”

“No,” you practically scream, still adjusting to the feeling.

“I knew you could take it.” He starts pressing wet kisses up your neck as he chases his high.

He slams you down on his lap coming undone moaning your name. Leaning forward you collapse on top of him. He wraps his arms around you and holds you close as you both pant trying to catch your breath. This is a moment you want to live in for the rest of your existence.

“I love you,” he whispers, never letting go.

He holds you close reminding you that you are locked together for a while. You lean back a little to look at his beautiful face.

“Sit up for me baby,” he says softly.

With your bodies still locked together you’re resting on your knees as you sit on his lap. His hand gently rests on your hips that are already starting to show fingerprint shaped bruises.

“I hurt you,” he sighs.

“Jisung, you didn’t hurt me. Please don’t ruin this moment by worrying about some bruises. Please just hold me.”

He sighs and lays back down. “Promise me if I ever hurt you, you’ll let me know.”

“I promise, now please hold me before round two.”

He smiles and kisses the top of your head, “I see you already want another round while we’re still locked together.”

-

Laying in his bed he holds your hand tightly. Tomorrow is another full moon, and even though he can now easily change at will. The full moon still scares him. You curl your body close to his resting your head on his chest. Your leg is resting across his stomach as you cling to him.

“Jisung?”

“Yeah baby?”

“Don’t be nervous. It’s going to be way easier than it’s been,” you say softly.

“I’m trying to tell myself things are getting easier,”

Things between you and Jisung are different, but it’s for the better. He pushes your hair to the side and looks at the crescent shaped mark on your skin that’s starting to fully heal.

“Did you want me to stay here or did you want me to go to Chan’s place with Minho’s mate, and Hyunjin’s girlfriend?”

“You can stay with the other girls, if you would like,” he runs his fingers across your mark.

“If I stay at Chan’s house, I’ll be closer to you.”

“You won’t have to wait for me. I'll just join you in bed.”

You lay there holding each other. You fall asleep to the sound of his heartbeat, and you can’t help but fall more and more in love with every beat of his heart.

Regarding my taglist: I’m tagging so many people like 300+ people and the the amount of reblogs and interactions I’m getting compared to my taglist make me quite sad. I kindly ask if you request to be tagged that you interact with my writing. It takes me a really long time to make sure I tag everyone. Im going to start removing silent readers and blank blogs to make tagging easier. If you want to on a taglist the form is still open. Im just really asking for interaction if I’m spending the time to tag you.

Thank you to anyone who has been replaying to the post and reblogging them.

[ncteez]

✤ Losing It. (masterpost) ✤ // HIATUS

A series of having virginities given to you. Sometimes they throw said virginity at you with full force, other times, they lovingly hold your hand, bat their lashes, and say some of the dumbest shit you’ve ever heard a man say in regards to getting laid for the first time.  ✤ or the one where you go through a list of the seventeen members and learn how they'd lose their virginity to you.

COMPLETED CHAPTERS ― 1/13

SERIES STATUS: actively writing as of march of 2024!

NOTE― All chapters can be read stand alone and do not tie into the others. Each reader and storyline is different! 

SERIES WARNING―There are a variety of different scenarios here involving both very normal and loving sex, to some stories that may contain: sub/dom dynamics, religion kink, obsession, desperate behavior, and purchasing of sex work.

If any of these things make you uncomfortable, I urge you to scroll on and not put yourself in a position of discomfort. I did not write these fics to harm anyone. 

✤ this series is afab!reader. ✤ Warnings, tags, word counts, etc. can be found attached to each chapter. ✤ Disclaimer: some storylines and member order may be prone to change upon writing them. ✤ TAG LIST OPEN!! send me an ask off anon to be on the tag list for this series. you will be tagged for every chapter, not just the specific members you choose.

✤ Chapter One: Cherry Boy[l.c.]

A new relationship is always difficult to navigate, for Chan, it appears to be even more difficult. For you? You’re just left confused as to why your new boyfriend of a month and a half hasn’t made a move on you despite your very obvious attempts to invite him into your personal space. 

You soon realize that your boyfriend is a virgin, and that’s why he’s always running away with his hands covering his bits, even through a simple goodnight kiss. 

STATUS ― virginity loss: success WORD COUNT ― 10k

✤ Chapter Two: Thirst Trappers LIE. [k.sy.]

You find your very innocent best friend’s secret thirst trap account. To your surprise, the “I’m not ready yet” Soonyoung, who literally sleeps with at least seven different plushies, consistently swings his dick at onlookers online. Grey sweatpants, no boxers, thigh flexing, moaning and whimpering audios. 

Maybe he’s not so innocent after all. 

And just maybe you’re right about that, because what he meant by “I’m not ready to have sex yet” really just meant “please have practice sex with me because four thousand people are trying to pull up and i don’t want to be bad at it but i didn’t know how to ask you.” 

STATUS ― v card is actively blocking and reporting everyone who sends a dm EST WORD COUNT ― 5k+

✤ Chapter Three: Scoring One. [s.c.]

The second best hockey player on campus has a secret. Not that he cheats on his exams, or that he had a crush on the lunch lady growing up, it’s that he’s shamefully a virgin, despite his jersey sporting the big bold numbers of a six and a nine.

Thankfully, Soonyoung found out about his dirty little secret and provides him with a number and a promise that the girl on the other line has a thing for desperate dudes. What he didn’t know? He was just about to pay not only the number one party girl on campus to take care of his little issue, but his own little sister’s best friend.

STATUS ― v card is currently tucked in his pocket behind a picture of his little sister. CONTEXT NOTE― this fic does not include an age gap of more than two years. EST WORD COUNT ― 5k+

✤ Chapter Four: One unsolicited dick pic later. [l.sm.]

Never mind why he hasn’t managed to get laid, it’s not like he hasn’t laid in his room for years at night wondering the exact same thing. The current issue is the fact that his friends keep watching porn on the loudspeakers in the living room, he’s drunk, and he got the sudden confidence to send you a dick pic after not speaking to you since he wished you a happy birthday last year.

What he didn’t know though, is that you’ve had a crush on him since that time in third grade he punched Seungkwan for cheating off of his spelling test.

STATUS ― v card is currently sitting in your inbox unread alongside his raging hard-on. EST WORD COUNT ― 5k+

✤ Chapter Five: LOST DOG: FOUND [k.m.]

Mingyu had the chance to lose his virginity right around the time all of his friends did but, well, there were some mishaps. Unfortunately, years later, he is still lying about the loss of it and pretends that he definitely has sex on the regular. He probably would too, if it weren’t for the fact that he’s grown incredibly insecure about his body and what it actually means to sleep with someone.  

Now though, the 26 year old man lives on the floor above you and is known as the pet-sitter of the building. Which is kind of great because it’s far too expensive to board your dog for weekend trips every month. You approach him for the first time with the offer of a hundred bucks to watch your dog, and of course he accepts. 

The issue upon returning home? He lost your 70 pound dog. Like, the whole thing, he lost it. 

STATUS ― v card being handed to you with the leash your dog was supposed to be on. EST WORD COUNT ― 5k+

✤ Chapter Six: LOSER. [j.ww.]

After adding some anonymous dude you found on your city’s subreddit looking for gaming friends, you find yourself confused when he suddenly ghosts you after trying to hold a non-gaming conversation.

Through his friends, you learn that he got cold feet because he’s never been with a woman before, and you decide that you’re just gonna have to show him that a man and a woman can be friends without the assumption that either of you want to fuck each other.

Except, maybe you’re not the best example to prove that, because now you can’t stop flirting with him. Now, you’re growing fond of the way he gets all flustered and turned on at the slightest implication of meeting face to face.

STATUS ― v card is hidden deep within his steam library EST WORD COUNT ― 5k+

✤ Chapter Seven: ISO: Anyone who wants me. [c.v.]

Vernon has never had a girlfriend and he wants one bad. Badder than bad. His group of friends get fed up with his consistent eye-rolls involving couples in public, them when they talk about their girlfriends or hook-ups, and ultimately decide to hold an auction at a campus-wide party.

He was feeling pretty ashamed about being announced as a virgin in need of some love, but the laughing didn’t bother him nearly as much when people actually start a bidding war. 

Apparently, these auctions happen once every few years  and it’s like, a whole thing or whatever. He just happened to be the lucky guy who suddenly has girls lining up for him with cash in hand. And you just happen to be the lucky girl to show him a good time.

STATUS ― v card is currently taped to his forehead EST WORD COUNT ― 5k+

✤ Chapter Eight: To whom it may concern, My desk is sturdy. [l.jh]

The worst thing about spending the night at work to reach deadlines is the fact that the new intern likes to hang out with him. Or rather, distract him. It's insane, really, how he's always about doing things by the book. His whole life revolved around rules and regulations, until he met you. He wanted to wait until marriage, and marriage was not in his books anytime soon. So, with all the stress on his back and you sitting across from him trying to get him to live a little, he decides to live a little too much.

STATUS ― v card framed on his office desk EST WORD COUNT ― 5k+

✤ Chapter Nine: How to be forgiven when you're (not) sorry. [h.j.]

Faith should be put into God, not the priest that consistently finds himself wanting to lead a pretty woman further from the union of God. He’s managed to hold off for most of his life from doing that, but all good things come to an end, he supposes. 

Marrying two sophisticated and loving members of the church was the easiest part of his night. The hardest part was pretending that their distant relative didn’t show up in inappropriate attire, with an even more inappropriate need to flirt with a celibate priest. For both him and his God, he finds himself praying more for his sanity than for the happy marriage of the two he just joined together. 

STATUS ― v card being used as a bookmark for his bible CONTEXT NOTE― this chapter contains inaccurate depictions of religious duties, sinning, blasphemy, questioning of god, and over all a blatant religion kink from yours truly. EST WORD COUNT ― 5k+

✤ Chapter Ten: Paying it forward. [y.jh]

CAMPUS NEWS: RICH NEW STUDENT LOOKING FOR LEGS TO SPREAD.

Being born into a rich family is great and all, sure, when the family isn’t so strict that Jeonghan wasn’t even allowed to close his own bedroom door growing up. Dating was off the table for him too, junk food, trash tv, and even choosing his own career path wasn't something he got to experience in life...yet.

Thankfully, those strict reigns loosened when he got into a college far, far away from home. Now? Jeonghan is out for blood, and by blood, he means he is out to experience all those first-times he missed throughout his teen years. First up on the to-do list: get laid.

STATUS ― brought his v card but forgot his wallet EST WORD COUNT ― 5k+

✤ Chapter Eleven: Friend Circles & Circle Jerks [b.sk.]

Seungkwan had his whole life planned out from the age of five. First, he would finish pre-school and get his diploma to become a doctor, mostly so he could buy a big mansion to live in with his family. Then, he would ask you, the neighbor kid next door, to marry him so that the two of you could stay up past seven in the evening. 

Well, it’s safe to say that the now twenty five year old Seungkwan did not become a doctor, nor did he ask you to marry him. To put it simply, you friend zoned him before he ever got the chance to tell you that he’s wanted to kiss you since he learned what kissing was. Still, he sticks around, picking up your little broken heart pieces from the ex that just dumped you. His hopes are high that, maybe, you’ll take notice of how he’s saved himself for you, and that maybe you’d really give him a chance. 

STATUS ― v card hidden behind his friendzone card EST WORD COUNT ― 5k+

✤ Chapter Twelve: 48 Missed Calls. [w.jh.]

Junhui dated you for three weeks in highschool. However, It was a simple act of curiosity between the two of you and it ended fairly quickly due to, well, being teenagers. 

That’s how it was for you, at least. For Junhui? Maybe it was puberty, or maybe it’s just the puppy love he had for you but, he really couldn’t just let you go. He has brushed off any other person who offers interest towards him for years now because of you. You’re the only person he wants, and despite this obsession he has, you still manage to not notice it. 

Which is why he still holds the title of your best friend. A very, very, protective best friend. 

STATUS ― v card stuck in limbo just like his obsession with you CONTEXT NOTE― this chapter deals with instances of manipulation, obsession, and over all our boy here has some strange ass vibes (this chapter is not in any way dubcon or noncon). please be aware of this. EST WORD COUNT ― 5k+

✤ Chapter Thirteen: Probably (not) a bad idea. [x.mh.]

When Minghao couldn't get a girlfriend throughout his younger years, his focus landed on none other than the world wide web. There, is where he decided how he intends to lose his virginity.  Several years and a very large porn addiction later, some lucky woman on one of the four different BSDM sites he signed up for will have the privilege of taking his virginity in more ways than one. He just knows he’s going to love every smothered, painful, wet, insulting second of it. 

STATUS ― v card is being used as a pickup line CONTEXT NOTE― this chapter has sub/dom dynamics in where minghao is an alt submissive man. there is ass-play in this. p.s.  it is not the greatest idea to lose your virginity to a stranger, especially if that stranger is found on a bdsm site. lower your moral standards for this one.  EST WORD COUNT ― 5k+

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[strawberrysturniolo]

never grow up part four

summary: after not speaking for a week, chris finds himself trying to confess his feelings to sunny, while she’s trying to move on from him

part three

part five

It’s been a week since I last talked to Chris. Since he walked out on me. 

It’s safe to say I was a complete wreck that night. I bawled my eyes out. I couldn’t imagine being in that state of stress and frustration with the only person who seems to understand me above others. It’s like that connection between us has been broken with such ease, not a care in the world from his end. He’s made that quite obvious.

I’ve been so embarrassed for wanting to push for something between us, until I remember how he made me think he wanted that too. It’s not embarrassing for me to be convinced of something else by someone I trusted, but I guess I learned my lesson for the future. 

It was one thing for him to not say goodbye when he left my apartment, rather than him just getting up and leaving angrily. But what makes it worse is he went back to LA without a word, without a real goodbye. 

It’s for that reason that I don’t bother telling him I miss him. He clearly didn’t care enough to say goodbye before he flew back to the other side of the country.

What makes it all worse is that I didn’t even find out from him or someone in his family.

I found out from a fucking Instagram story that Nick posted with Chris and Matt at an event. So who the fuck even knows when they actually got back there. They seem to be settled in again pretty fucking nicely. 

I’ve tried to occupy myself with work and school to keep my mind off how I’m feeling. Somehow along the way, I managed to agree to go on a date. 

I usually don’t care to randomly date people. Maybe that’s why I felt so safe and confident in Chris. I’ve known him forever, and I trusted that he would take care of me and we would work. 

We didn’t even get the chance to try before he turned into a stranger again. 

There’s nothing wrong with the guy in front of me. I just don’t think this is the right kind of guy for me. He’s very proper, clearly coming from a rich family that taught him about fine dining and expensive jewelry since he was born. He bought me a fancy glass of wine though, so I can’t complain too much. At least I can get a little tipsy tonight. I know better than to drink too much on a first date in case this guy turns out to be a creep and I’m too drunk to notice. 

“So,” he starts to say, then he takes a sip of his wine, raising a hand to the waiter and silently requesting another. That pisses me off. “Who’s your best friend?”

Not the 20 questions type ass question. 

Well, fuck. That one hurt. 

“Um– He– They don’t live here anymore,” I finally say. “I met them when I was a toddler. I don’t even remember it, I just know from family stories. I think they were the first friend I ever made. I don’t remember ever not having them in my life. They were always there.”

I continue to refer to Chris as they rather than he. I don’t know this guy well enough yet, and something tells me if I say my best friend was a boy, he’d start asking more questions about him that I don’t want to answer. 

“They were always there,” I continue. “By biggest supporter, best friend, number one defender. We started to share families. I was always welcome unannounced– actually, they liked it when I came over without mentioning it first. It made them feel even more loved, is what they said.” 

I need more wine.

I was 16 when I went on my very first date. Chris was with a girl that night. She came over to their house, and had a double date sort of thing with Matt and his girlfriend. While I was at the movie theater on my date, he started to get weird. He was suddenly touching my legs, and trying to kiss me. I ran to the bathroom and called Chris, and even though I knew he couldn’t drive, I knew he would try to rescue me.

“Hey–”

“Chris. I’m at the movies with Ryan.”

My words came out in a rush, desperation clear in my tone.

I could hear him leave the room, practically running to where he could be alone and hear me clearly. “I know. What’s wrong?”

I took a deep breath. “He’s being weird.”

There’s a pause.

“How weird?”

“I’m in the bathroom to get away from him. That kind of weird,” I clarified. “I’m sorry. I know you’re with people, but can you please–”

“We’ll be there soon. I’ll text you when I’m outside,” he agreed without a second thought.

Once him and Matt arrived, Matt dropped us off at a McDonald’s near their house before going back to his own girlfriend. I never really asked what happened with the girl Chris was with. I guess I assumed they took her home while they were on their way to get me. 

To cheer me up, Chris treated our shitty McDonald’s dinner as a friendly date. He made me laugh, made me feel safe again, and then we went home and watched a movie in his bed.

He was always ready to rescue me, no matter what he was doing. 

Suddenly, my phone rings on the table, violently vibrating and disrupting our conversation. 

I apologize as I pick up my phone, trying to mute it, until I see the caller ID. 

Without hesitating, I get up from the table. “I have to take this.”

I practically run outside so I’m alone when I take the call, trying to get there before he hangs up. I press the phone to my ear, and my heart sinks when I finally hear his voice again.

“Hey,” he says.

My voice is delicate when I respond. “Hi.”

“I just wanted to–” he starts to say, getting right to the point. A car horn blares as someone in front of me swerves near another car. He stops his original point and asks, “Where are you right now?”

“Outside of a restaurant. I got up when you called.”

“Oh. Who are you with?”

“Just– Um– I’m not–” I stutter. “It’s just someone I know.”

He must have been laying on his bed, because I hear him shift. There’s a slight rumble like he was moving around, the sound of his bed sheets against his body as he sits up. “Is it a guy?”

I don’t know what to say. I could lie and say that I’m with family, or that it’s a networking dinner, but my silence doesn’t help my case. Not to mention that I panicked and settled on ‘someone I know.’

“You’re on a fucking date?!” he shouts.

“Why are you yelling at me!”

“I’m calling to tell you that I want to be with you and you’re on a fucking date?!”

He wants to be with me.

I don’t even get to be happy about that before I’m trying to defend myself. He’s so fast to get angry with me, not giving me a chance to think about anything other than the fact that he’s being incredibly unfair. 

“How was I supposed to know that’s why you were calling?” I ask. I start pacing in front of the restaurant, weaving through people walking around me. “We haven’t spoken in a week!”

“Yeah,” he says, responding in a tone that is so dry, it makes me worried for what’s to come next. “A week ago you were all over me saying that you love me and you want a relationship and you’re already on a date with someone else?”

My voice goes soft. “What were you trying to achieve? Do you want a relationship with me?”

“Well, no but–”

“Oh!” I jump in. “So you want me, but not enough to be in a relationship with me, but enough to where if I go out with someone else who wants to be with me, I’m the bad person because then you’d get to call that cheating even though you and I don’t want the same thing. You just want me to be available if and when you decide you want the same thing as me.”

He doesn’t want me. He just wants me to be there in case that changes. With how indecisive and low commitment Chris is, I don’t want to wait around for someone that isn’t sure of me. Especially me, when we’ve had so much love for each other for our whole lives. 

“You’re so fucking dramatic,” he scoffs. “I hope your date can handle it.”

“So fucking what if I’m on a date!” I fight back. “It shouldn’t mean anything to you!”

“You’re right, it doesn’t matter. So I’ll do you one better.” I take a breath, holding it. I’m terrified for what he’ll say next. “I fucked someone last night.”

I feel my heart stop beating. Then it drops into my stomach.

My chest feels empty. It’s like I’m just a shell of a human being, but nothing inside it functions anymore. That about killed me. 

Tears well in my eyes, and I know if he saw me right now, he would hate that he made me cry. He was always the person to wipe my tears, and now he’s the cause of it. 

I want to scream. I want to hate him. But I never could. No matter how much I try.

“So you decided to fuck someone else. Then you called me to confess the love you think I want from you, then you get mad that I don’t want to wait around for someone who isn’t sure about me and I went on a date, all of which you were going to pursue without telling me that you fucked someone last night!” I don’t bother concealing my volume or my vocabulary even though I’m standing around plenty of people. They can all hear me fighting with Chris. “And you’re going to get mad over a date, when you fucked someone?!”

He doesn’t say anything for a minute. I have to actually check that the call is still ongoing and I didn’t lose him somehow, or that he didn’t hang up on me after calling him out.

“You know what?” he snaps. “You’re right. This was a waste of time. Enjoy your date,” he forces himself to say. I know he wants nothing more than for my date to go badly. I don’t tell him that it already was before he called. 

“Yeah, I will. And guess what Chris?”

“What?”

“You can go fuck yourself, but knowing you, you’ll probably get someone else to handle that for you.”

The line goes dead when he hangs up on me.

I’m left standing outside in shock.

I don’t know how long I’ve been standing in one place, burning tears dripping slowly down my cheeks. I finally snap out of it when I feel raindrops on my skin. Seconds later, the rain starts coming down harder.

Pretty ironic that he called me Sunshine because when he was down it always got sunnier, and now I’m standing in a downpour. 

tag list: @secret-sturniolo @chrisloyalgf @strnilolo @qwertytit @55sturn @sleepysturnss @creamoncreamoncream2 @sturnvvz @swaggygirlboss123 @angelworldspost @patscorner @ducksturniolo @mattitties @luv4kozume @mbbsgf @freshloveforthefit @ripmattitude @gamermattsgf @strniololoverr @urmom2bitch @sturnitup @luvmila444 @st7rnioioss @sturniolosreads @pepsiskiess @alorsxsturn @sturniolopepsi @sturnsgasoline @sturns-posts @sstvrnioloo @strawberrymilk4k @nickmillersn1gf @milesfordays11 @l9vesick @mattsturnzzz09 @mattnchrisworld @sturniolovoid @aerunn @sturniolosmind @oliviasturniolo21 @carolsturns1 @scarssturniolo @stuniolobbg @sturniolowhore @christurniolomyman

[priestvox]

On the subject of people from Alastor's past showing up at the hotel, may I propose we shove the sheep girl in there, right alongside Mr. (not so) Clueless Detective?

(For those who don't know, the sheep girl is a nameless character from a dubiously canon prequel comic that shows Alastor going about his day in Hell.)

One day there's a knock on the hotel door and Charlie excitedly greets the sinner who's come to the hotel of her own volition; a petite, sheep-like woman in a purple sweater with a shy smile on her face. Charlie is thrilled to welcome her to the hotel. But the second that Alastor shows his face in the lobby, the sheep woman breezes right past the princess. Everyone is stunned as this timid-looking woman goes right up to the cruel, bloodthirsty, sadistic Overlord and begins to babble out a very clumsily worded 'thank you' to Alastor while he just stares at her blankly. She goes on for a few moments, tripping over her words, stopping and starting over, face getting redder with every passing moment until Alastor cuts her off.

Alastor: Apologies, my dear, but have we met before?

One could hear a pin drop in the hotel. The poor girl's face is completely red and after a moment she croaks out a only slightly less frantic apology because, haha, of course he doesn't remember her, why would he? After all, they barely said a thing to one another, and that was nearly ten years ago now...

Vaggie cuts in and asks to know what the hell she's talking about. The commotion has drawn some attention and more than a few questioning stares, so Charlie gets the sheep demon a glass of water and they all relocate to the parlor so the sheep girl can explain. Angel, Cherri, Husk, Niffty, and Lucifer join in, all curious about what this woman's about to say for various reasons.

She tells the story, nervous at first but gaining more confidence as she speaks. How she ran into Alastor when she'd only been newly dead and hadn't known who he was at the time. How he'd held open the door to a butcher shop for her and she found herself thinking that it was a relief that there seemed to be some decent people in Hell.

How the moment the butcher laid eyes on her, he'd flashed this eerie grin that made her skin crawl.

How the butcher had grabbed her by the collar of her shirt and tried to drag her over the counter.

How, before the butcher could eat her or rape her, Alastor had swept back inside, body twisted into a grotesque form, tangible darkness rolling off of him in waves, and he slaughtered the butcher where he stood while she was reduced to a teary-eyed wreck curled on the floor.

She'd been too scared to say anything at the time, thinking if he saw her then he'd attack her next. It was only long after the incident was over when she replayed the events in her mind that she realize that Alastor had saved her. Granted, in a more sadistic manner than she'd have liked, but nonetheless, he was her savior. And she'd never thanked him. Never even gotten his name.

It wasn't until after Vox broadcast that video of Alastor losing his fight to Adam that she knew that the man in red who'd saved her and the Radio Demon were one and the same. She'd only ever known the Radio Demon as a voice, and he'd vanished just a few years after her own arrival in hell! But the moment she learned that he was the manager of the Hazbin Hotel, she just knew she had to come and thank him in person.

And, well, here she is.

Everyone just sort of stares at Alastor before someone musters up the will to ask if it's true.

Alastor: I can't say I quite recall. I suppose it could be.

Charlie: How could you forget something like that?

Alastor: My dear, if what this young lady says is true, she and I exchanged a few words years ago. You can hardly expect me to remember every short interaction I've had in my lifetime.

Angel Dust: And I guess killing some random Joe is just Tuesday for you, eh?

Alastor: Precisely!

They chat a bit more after that, with Charlie inviting the sheep demon into the redemption program, but Lucifer remains silent. He's just staring at Alastor, unable to formulate a thought as he processes what he's just heard. Something shifts, and he hates the fact that he knows right now he's not going to be able to see Alastor the same way after this.

(comic mentioned!)

[xvxnux]

navigation : paid readings ☆ masterlist

i : "i need you to be strong now, everything that's happening today will somehow serve to bring you to me... your best version. believe in what i'm saying now: we will still have sad feelings about this, it's something that marked us and made us suffer. i need you to dedicate yourself and not give up, make plans. always have a direction! always have dreams and look for things that make you want the best for all eternity. i know things are tough and you're tired of waiting for genuinely good things. there's something difficult for us to deal with besides all of this, you know? something from our inner selves that you refuse to accept happened and refuse to expose and talk about. you're right to preserve yourself, but know that everything you put effort into doing succeeds. our secret will be safe until you want it to be, and can i tell you something? we'll never tell. know that your future will be good, comfortable. you'll have time to feel the cool breeze in your hair and have moments of peace. you may be curious about your career, right? well, listen, you'll be successful. you'll have a stable and admired mind, you can do anything! i'm sorry if i confuse you when i say "you" at some moments and "our" at others. i see us as different people now, who suffer and feel the weight of the present is you, and you will always be proud of your story. i'm in the future, waiting for you to blossom! I'm sorry i can't give you more directions about our future right now, but i'm worried about you. oh, stop apologizing! i hope you'll be alright. with love, your future self."

i see that you might be going through a tough time at the moment. the cards mostly speak about stability. perhaps you're confused about your career, and you might wonder if this reality will change, which can cause you pain.

your future self didn't want to talk about other matters; they are concerned. you'll become even more responsible for yourself and your feelings. i can see that in the future, you may face emotional challenges, and your burden is heavy, but it's alright — you'll manage well and become even more amazing!

ii : "dont worry, your cup will always be full. you will have brilliant moments ahead, so don't lose faith. there's a new version of yourself about to bloom like a black widow flower. this version will be one of the four you'll experience. no, you won't cease to be yourself, but we agree that you need to evolve, right?! in any case, be confident, your next version will teach you cunning and how to handle malicious people, unfavorable situations, and moments of pain. you'll emerge from all the rough situations, knowing how to navigate them unscathed. don't hold onto this current version of yourself; you're feeling sorry for yourself! i apologize for being tough and cold with you; perhaps it's my desperation for having lived your pain and heard your despair without being able to do much. but i believe, you are me, and i once was you! you need to understand that feeling sorry for yourself will make it difficult to leave the past behind, the same lack i felt once and that you still feel: the missing hug, the support that was lacking... the stabs in our backs and the weight on our conscience. i understand it all. when i say not to feel sorry for yourself, i mean you need to detach from this version; it no longer serves you. but if by any chance you don't understand why you feel this way, i can point out a few reasons: you lacked support and didn't receive the value you deserved. always alone, my love? always. you learned through pain to rely on yourself, you supported yourself, wiped your own tears. You embraced your inner child; yes, you are a child. but this child needs to stay, and you need to continue this journey. learn from all of this that you will still be your own support; your inner child knows how to walk and needs to walk alone, take her off your lap. your version will bring you everything you need, and it's written for you. wait to discover that you are one of the most intelligent people someone could meet. know that you will still have the power of communication; know that you will be feared and respected. feared by enemies and respected by friends! you are loving, and you need to continue to be so, you need to find balance. you want to help people in the future, and you will, but to get to me, you need to nurture the love within yourself. you will stop looking at yourself with harsh eyes and discover new spiritual abilities soon. be happy, i'm waiting for you..."

for me, it was touching and straightforward. i see that currently, you might be experiencing moments where you doubt yourself and wonder if you will reach your desired destination, but yes, you will. much depends on us and our well-being, on how our mind is doing. i see you as an intelligent person with potential, but you have been neglected and diminished in the past. there may be psychological issues that hold you back and eat away at you from the inside. fear of not finding love? nah, you will find it. even though you may not have that next version yet, i see positive aspects in you that help you get through all the difficulties you have faced. you are strong and can protect yourself from many things, but there are still challenging things. your intuition and life situations will guide you to where you belong. don't swim against the current; if you feel like doing something, just do it.

iii : "luck is on your side now, and you need to know how to be rational and think about the future, so when tough moments come knocking at your door, you don't see everything as bad and against you. the friends you have today, few will remain by your side later, and the things you value now will lose their significance. cherish the present moments and prioritize those who are prioritizing you now, okay?! i need you to wake up and be more responsible about your future, don't waste time and money! the future is bright, and you will have everything you desire, but if you still think money can buy everything... stop. i don't have much more to say for now, have a good night."

[kindestegg]

You know, even for just two months, Collector and King's friendship has already developed into something special.

When he and King first meet, Collector can barely keep their hands off of him, dragging him by the hand all over and grabbing him extremely close.

Come present day when our heroes have actually made it back, however, and Collector barely touches King. The only two times they initiate contact are when King chooses to offer a pinky promise to go talk to the Owl Beast and later when Collector leads King into their shared bedroom. This is good! It shows they learned boundaries and to keep their hands off of King and not smother him.

Collector's also learned boundaries when it comes to François! Although it was very devious of them to kick their plush under their bed so they could ask for François, they still respect King's decision to not let them hold him, and never touch François during the entire episode.

And hey, remember how King used to get so sick flying around with Luz that he couldn't help but throw up?

Look at him riding around with Collector now! Not a green face to be seen. It's likely through gradual exposure and a lot of encouragement and accomodation from Collector he was able to lose his problem with flight.

Speaking of which, what were the two even doing that they somehow took until nightfall to get to the Archive House? King comments they've "been gone for a while", but Collector declared they should return way back when they had just finished the play session with Terra.

...Were they just doing tricks and flying around having fun? If so, that's kind of cute to imagine, and a nice break from them just playing pretend with those poor puppet-people all the time. It shows they're confident enough to play together in other ways and have a good time.

I've also touched on this briefly, but it's also cute when you realize that Collector asking what mortals eat was his attempt at joking around with King, who also isntantly recognizes this and doesn't even need to say a thing to show it. That alone says a lot about what stage their communication skills with each other has gotten to.

King's also starting to trust Collector to the point that he straight up tells Eda and Lilith that he could get Collector to turn Hooty back to normal as if he trusts he can easily sway his opinion by just asking.

A side note on this, it's interesting to me immediately after being told no King brings up missing Luz.

It's probably just there for pacing convenience but part of me likes to think it's because he thinks Luz of all people would be the one to see things his way and agree that they should befriend the Collector. She WAS always the optimist of the trio after all.

And Collector doesn't actually seem to mind seeing Eda out of her beast form talking to King, the only thing he really cares about is whether his best friend is looking out for him or not. Being tricked about the Owl Beast situation seems to not matter to Collector as long as King is happy by his side.

Their relationship isn't perfect. They aren't best friends, despite what the Collector says, because King doesn't see them that way. Collector wants them to be equals and sees them as such, but it takes King almost up until this very episode to realize this and stop fearing a punishment that's not going to come.

Even after things are resolved, they still probably aren't going to be able to call themselves best friends, or even good friends. But they have a budding friendship at the very least, they've grown and learned a lot from each other, specially Collector who was desperately in need of a good role model (and it's funny only titans so far have provided that by pure coincidence).

With dedication from both parts, maybe in the future they can say befriending each other was one of the best decisions they've ever made.

[m1d-45]

theirs

word count: 810

summary: small drabbles about what it’s like to be with your lover. kaeya, venti, zhongli, and ayato, in that order.

-> warnings: none !

-> gn reader

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr

< masterlist >

kaeya is subtle. a hand inching toward yours, a soft smile when he offers you his arm, growing wider when you accept. he invites you to the angel’s share just to have an excuse to have you sit next to him, already having a glass of your favorite drink by his side. he’s always willing to give you a drink from his cup if you’d like to try, and often steals sips from yours, if only to take your attention back from whatever bard is playing that night. he drinks less when you’re with him, whether because he’s talking or because he’d rather stay sober to hear you speak. he sticks close to your side at most times, whether shoulder to shoulder or a hand lingering over your side. he knows of what the city thinks of him, but the last thing he’d want is for you to think his feelings are anything but genuine. he sticks to softer ways to show his affection instead, whether by bringing you lunch during your breaks or flowers after work, trying his hardest to find the line between what could be seen as manipulation and what isn’t enough. take him out for a picnic sometime, by the edge of cider lake. lean your head on his shoulder and promise that you understand his affection, just don’t tease him too much if he trips over his words.

venti is cautious. he’s not that familiar with human relations, and is rather lonely after years of solitude. being a god is isolating, and he’d hate to be overwhelming in his attempts. he starts with flowers, little bouquets of dandelions and windwheel asters. he goes out and picks them himself, wandering through fields to find ones he likes best. he could go to flora, but the sight of you smiling over flowers he picked himself is far more appealing than the extra fifteen minutes of sleep. as time goes on and he can confirm that you’re not opposed to the idea of his love, he gets a bit more bold. he teases about asking for a kiss, acting more confident than he is. should you lean down and actually give him one, even if on the cheek, he’ll fluster quite easily. listen when he promises that he loves you, as it took him a long time to work up the courage to say it.

zhongli is clear. he’s always quick to dispel any doubt in your mind about your relationship, his arms warm as he holds you close. from the moment he approached you at the shops, he’s never made a promise he couldn’t keep. lying is something he’s learned not to let into his life so easily, well aware of how quickly a handful of words are able to shatter relationships. he does keep his true identity private for a long while, needing to be sure you can keep a secret as easily as he can, but minds his words until then. he never speaks without fully intending what he says, his sentences prefaced by a pause as he thinks. every morning he makes his tea, wishing you a good day. every night he greets you with a kiss, ready to listen if you have anything to speak about. his advice is as genuine as the rest of him, but he also understands the effectiveness of a good hug sometimes. lay with him on the couch, let him tell you a story, have some tea if you’re so inclined. don’t worry, he’ll carry you to bed if you fall asleep.

ayato is protective. he can’t lose you, not now and not ever, so is willing to do anything to keep you safe. his behavior almost comes to a fault, as he tends to put himself lowest on his list of priorities. he’s likely been pining for years prior to the start of your relationship and only confessed by way of an accident with ayaka, which you were happy to hear. in his defense, he didn’t want to ruin the friendship the two of you had, even if his feelings burned in his chest whenever he saw you. even now, he’s tentative about trying anything new, sticking with what he knows you’ll like. you’ll likely be the one to say you love him first, and don’t be surprised if he doesn’t return it right away. he wants to ensure he can—for lack of better phrasing—support your relationship, as if you haven’t been working by his side for years. he probably talks to you in private about the dangers that come with being with him, promising that he wouldn’t be hurt if you were hesitant. take his hand in yours and stay by his side, and he’ll reward you with the world.

[m1ckeyb3rry]

Hello,

I have a writing prompt for Michael Kaiser (Blue Lock): Kaiser gets into a pr relationship with an actress and they eventually bond and fall in love.

I think he would have a hard time because of his feelings of worthlessness, but this guy has so much potential, I swear, I love him so much.

If you want to go for a "dark side of Hollywood" type of concept, imagine: a young girl who was raised under the pressure of becoming "the perfect star" and surrounded by the chaos of the industry (Idk, the movie Black Swan comes to mind, or the typical representation of Marilyn's life, something along the lines). I think he could bond with someone who is in a similar mind space as him, but who externalizes it differently, remaining kind and such. He definitely needs someone who is empathetic and can see through his insecurities, and I really like the concept of two characters who are hurt helping each other heal.

If you don't want that much drama, scratch the idea of a hurt oc. Think about someone with an "entrepreneur" mindset: someone ambitious, confident, and level headed, who (again) is empathetic and would call him out and help him grow (I'm thinking about sae, but emotionally competent lol).

You don't really have to go for any of this though, it's just meant to get you inspired to write something for my boy Kaiser. I hope it's not too much. Also, there's no rush at all!!

Thank you in advance. I hope you have a good day 🩷

── THE INSTRUMENT

Synopsis: Michael Kaiser is like a rose, and you are the songbird he cannot bear to lose.

Event Masterlist

Pairing: Kaiser x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 6.8k

Content Warnings: fake dating trope, implied/referenced abuse, call me tabito karasu the way i assassinate kaiser’s character in this, open ending, relationship dynamics many would consider…interesting…

A/N: hiiii anon ty for requesting!! i hope that i wrote kaiser in a somewhat satisfactory way 😫 this is my first time writing for him so idk if i got him right 😓 also i have NO idea why but for some reason i decided to write this in the present tense which i literally have never done?? so if it sounds off that’s why 💔 i’m so sorry i really don’t know what possessed me SKDJFSHKL

Additional: part of my 500 follower event! see the event description and rules to make a request of your own.

It’s hot and like a bruise, your first phone call with Michael Kaiser. He’s that brand of aggravating and just shy of painful to speak with; morbidly, you wish for the conversation to manifest as some kind of actual injury, perhaps on your upper arm, so you can poke at it until it is tender and blooming. But of course, that sort of thing isn’t possible, so you amuse yourself by tapping your fingers against the counter and considering what you might eat for dinner.

“Did you hear me?” he snaps when you do not respond to his proposition immediately. He speaks with an accent, clipped and short, lending severity to his words even when he’s saying nothing of note. “Miss L/N. It’s in both of our best interests to cooperate.”

He’s not wrong about this. It’s the only reason you’ve stayed on the call for as long as you have — it’s in your best interest. It’s the same for him, too, and the thought almost makes you laugh, because who would’ve expected your interests and his to ever align?

“Of course I heard you,” you say, twisting open your bottle of water, taking a sip and idly wondering if he can hear an accent when you speak, too. It’s difficult for you to notice your own, but maybe to him, you sound as odd as he does to you. “You should learn patience, Mr. Kaiser. Such a heavy request you’re making of me, and yet you demand my answer immediately?”

He huffs. “It’s not something you need to dwell on.”

“It might be,” you say, though it’s not at all. Your mind was made up the moment he asked; everything after that has been nothing more than a ploy to irritate him. You’re good at that, at irritating people. Michael Kaiser is not an exception.

“Miss L/N,” he says again, something like a darker version of pleading creeping into his tone. “Your answer. Now.”

“Well, you already knew before you asked, didn’t you? Naturally, I’ll do it,” you say. “It’s a mutually beneficial partnership. Though I expect you to really try your best, Mr. Kaiser, or else it’ll all be for naught.”

“I could say the same to you,” he says.

“Between the two of us, who is the actress?” you say, chuckling when he is silent. “I am sure that I will be convincing. It’s you who I worry for. Hiding your true feelings has never been one of your strengths, has it? Or you wouldn’t be speaking to me at all.”

“Shut up,” he says after a moment has passed. “I doubt your acting skills are anything to brag about.”

“I know you’ve watched my movies,” you say, and when he doesn’t refute this, you beam. “Have you really?”

“Only because someone I know suggested I should,” he says. “If I want to love you, then I have to understand you. That’s what he told me.”

“And what did you think?” you say.

“I thought that I don’t plan to love you at all, and then I told him as much,” he says, the force of his eye roll transmitting even over the phone. You’re not sure if he’s acting deliberately obtuse or if he really thinks you care about this inane conversation he’s describing, but either way you sigh, because his answer is so telling of his personality.

“I was talking about my movies,” you say.

“I don’t prefer the genre,” he says, and then he’s hanging up with a promise to call you later, if he is so inclined. He doesn’t tell you not to call him, but you feel like he implies it, so you vow to set your phone aside and pay him no mind for the rest of your evening.

I’m dating Michael Kaiser, you type in the body of your email to your manager, who you are certain will be so delighted by this news that he will combust spontaneously upon hearing it. You want to type it again, this unbelievable turn of events, so you do. I’m dating Michael Kaiser. Then you delete the repetition, reverting it once again into a formal email, instead of a giddy celebration over an event which should not prompt giddiness or anything resembling it.

It’s a relationship meant to salvage his ruined reputation and boost your career in one fell swoop, and so it’s a relationship that can only work if it’s formed between you two in particular. He, who is a foul-mouthed soccer prodigy, known better for his crass treatment of others than any actual skills he may possess, and you, a rising star who will do anything to be famous and are already of a serviceable status to be seen with him.

Despite your burst of excitement, the prospect of dating Michael Kaiser isn’t actually a thrilling one. The rumors of his horrid demeanor aren’t rumors, and you know this well, albeit through secondhand accounts. Cruelty is the way that he operates, his so-to-speak basal mode, and because it is so intrinsic to his being, you do not fancy that he will deviate from that malicious rule, even for you.

But you are accustomed to a false existence. Donning a facade and masquerading as a person who you are not is the only thing you are good at, are good for, and this time is no different than every other. You will put on the mask of a woman who is loved by Michael Kaiser, who has tamed that mad emperor and turned him into her sweet pet, and you will once again fool the world into believing you.  

He’s doing an interview today. You’re only aware because he texts you right before and tells you to turn on the TV to a channel you’d never choose if you had a say in the matter. But you’re intrigued and he refuses to explain further, so you do as he commands and find yourself watching as he reclines back in a leather armchair and smirks at the host, who’s clearly nervous.

She’s pretty, her hands shaking but her expression serious. You’ve never seen her before, which means she’s new. Of course, that’s not a surprise; only someone very inexperienced or very stupid would invite Michael Kaiser to their show, and she does not seem to be particularly stupid, so her affliction is the first. 

“Um, Mr. Kaiser, it’s a pleasure to have you with us,” she says, like she cannot quite believe that he is actually there, or like she is afraid of what he might take offense at, or some combination of the two.

“It’s a pleasure to be here,” he says, all roguish and self-assured, which is such a contrast to his typically surly demeanor that you have to commend the girl for keeping her composure.

They speak at length about his soccer career, throwing around words you do not understand and do not care to. It’s so boring you almost power down the television and tell him you think as much, but then the girl clears her throat, her face turning a comical shade of red as her fists clench the paper she’s been reading off of.

“This last question is from our viewers, but it’s personal, so if you don’t want to answer, then it’s not a problem,” she says, squirming in her chair, probably hoping he does not humiliate her. It will be bad for her career if he does, even if by now everyone knows what kind of person he is.

“Go on, then. I feel like we’ve built a rapport here, so I don’t mind it as much if it’s from you,” he says. It’s a perfectly packaged sentiment. His PR team must have tortured him into this new persona. You try to imagine it — it’s definitely a humorous thought, picturing the Bastard München representative slamming Michael Kaiser’s face into a bowl of water for every snarky comment he makes. Unrealistic, though. They would never risk compromising his performance like that.

“There’s rumors that you’re seeing Y/N L/N, the actress. A source who claims to be close to you both mentioned it online, and people can’t stop talking about the possibility. Neither you nor Miss L/N have addressed it, though, and our viewers were hoping you might…?” She cringes back, already preparing for one of his tirades, but he only smiles genially and winks at the camera. You remind yourself to tell him later that he’s laying it on too thick, even if you are enjoying this new character that he’s playing up for the sake of it.

“Y/N L/N? I’m shocked that you think I’m handsome enough to date someone like her,” he says. Your phone buzzes — it’s your manager, crowing about how impressed he is with your ‘boyfriend’ and his presence of mind. 

“So it’s a no?” the interviewer says, almost hopefully. He’s mysterious when he shrugs, mysterious and more than a little coy, as if she’s flattering him and he’s too shy to accept the praise.

“If Miss L/N ever deems me to be worthy of her, then it’s a yes in a heartbeat,” he says. It’s an excellent setup for his redemption, and the girl plays into it so beautifully that you tell your manager to send her flowers or some chocolate at the earliest possible opportunity.

“I think that you’ve shown yourself to be an excellent candidate today,” she says.

“Have I? I’ve really been trying to prove myself,” he says. Dreamy sighs ripple through the live studio audience. Someone whistles. It’s all very romantic and fairy-tale-esque, although he is far from being any kind of prince.

“You’re doing great,” the girl assures him. “I’m sure that, if Miss L/N is watching, she’ll have no choice but to be smitten.”

“If she’s watching? Oh, the thought didn’t even cross my mind,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. You shouldn’t have doubted him and his audacity; he’s fallen into the role as if he were born to play it. “How embarrassing. I’ve just confessed to her on live television without even knowing if she’s interested…”

He’s actually blushing. You are doubly awed — he’s a natural-born talent. It’s a shame that he’s devoted to soccer; he could make it out like a bandit in the acting industry.

“No, no, don’t be embarrassed. How could she ever reject someone like you?” she assures him. How, indeed! At the moment, you are so pleased that you could kiss him. He’s better than any co-star you’ve ever had to work with, in that he is making your job exponentially easier instead of exponentially more difficult.

“If she really is watching, then I can only pray she heard you say that part,” he says, waving in greeting, presumably at you. “Hello, Miss L/N. I really admire you, so if you find me at all agreeable, then I would quite like it if you would say yes to the date I’m going to ask you on.”

He’s made the world swoon and your social media mentions triple. People are begging you to say yes, to give him a chance, to see how he has changed. They want to live through you, and you will let them.

When he calls you, you tell him you were thrilled by his performance. This causes him to shoot back that he finds you insufferable and condescending, to which you say that it’s what makes you and him such a perfect pair. Then you recite an address, and he asks you what you’re going on about. You answer that it is the place where you will have your first date, and then you hang up before he can respond, just so that you can deny him the chance to do it to you first. 

Cameras flash in your faces as you enter the restaurant your manager has booked a reservation at. Michael Kaiser’s arm is wrapped around your waist, and it’s nauseatingly domestic, the kind of scene that would be the cover for one of those coming-of-age movies your agent loves booking for you. You wait for the frantic sound of camera shutters to slow, and then you tug on his sleeve.

“What is it?” he says. It’s quiet enough that no one else can hear, which is why it’s devoid of any warmth, but you are unruffled.

“Your tie,” you say. “It’s not crooked, but we will pretend that it is, and I’ll fix it so that there is something sweet to accompany the tabloid articles that will come out tomorrow.”

Your hands reach for his neck, and he does something you do not comprehend — flinching back, he shakes his head. When he realizes he’s done this, he grits his teeth, like the anger can make up for the temporary weakness. You do not press the issue, merely furrowing your brow and gazing up at him, doing your best to ensure that your eyes remain soft, so that the exchange is not misinterpreted by the parasites around you.

“No,” he says. “Do something else, but leave my tie alone.”

“Alright,” you say. It’s not sensible for you to argue, and anyways it doesn’t matter much what you are doing, as long as you are doing something. Humming to yourself, you adjust the lapels of his jacket. The cameras go off again. You pretend like you do not notice, like the world consists of only you two, and then you interlace your fingers with his, allowing him to drag you into the restaurant behind him.

It’s your turn to be interviewed. You’re wearing a dress, your legs crossed at the ankles — it’s demure and practical and prevents anyone from leering at you, so it’s been a habit of yours for quite a while. The interviewer is female, though, which calms you a bit. She’s older, around your mother’s age, and the wrinkles on her forehead remind you that you should call your parents and arrange for them to meet your doting boyfriend.

“Miss L/N, I can’t begin to tell you how excited I am to finally meet you!” the woman says. You think her name may be Anne, but she hasn’t introduced herself to you yet, so you’re not certain.

“You are too kind. If anything, it’s an honor for me to be here,” you say. The audience really likes that, when you are humble and shy and so darling. It’s palatable and easy for them to digest, or that’s what your manager tells you. 

“Tell us about your upcoming projects,” she says after giving you the appropriate amount of praise for your charming personality.

“I’m currently shooting a new romantic comedy, but I’m afraid it’s all very hush-hush, so I can’t say too much about it. I think you all will really enjoy it, though, and I’m looking forward to the day that we can discuss it at length,” you say. 

The conversation goes on like that for a bit, but you know she’s going through the motions because she has to, not because she wants to. There’s only one question she cares to ask, but if she just talks to you about your boyfriend and not your own accomplishments, then she’ll be blasted online as an anti-feminist. You hear quite frequently that this is akin to suicide in the world of marketing, so you can’t blame her.

That doesn’t stop you from having some fun. When she’s exhausted every possible avenue of questioning you about your future plans and past successes, you make as if you’re going to stand up and leave. Panic leaps across her face, and you snicker.

“We’ve spoken at such length about my acting career. You can’t possibly have any more questions about it, hm? You probably know more than my manager does!” Your attitude is balanced out by the joke. The audience laughs. It’s a fine line that you walk, but if you do not have the chance to act sharper every now and again, you believe you will die — internally if not externally — so you take such risks when you can justify them to yourself.

“You’re dating Michael Kaiser now, aren’t you?” she says. It’s a rancid curiosity she hides with a motherly type of concern. You brush off your legs, recross them, and tuck a piece of hair behind your ear.

“I am,” you say. You don’t have to play the games that he did; you both are established now. Official. A bona-fide couple. Anyways, it’s more appealing if you are outright with it.

“How has that been? You’ve really made a difference in that young man’s life, it seems,” she says.

The best way to lie is to tell the truth. “Yes, I suppose I have, but he has made an equal difference in mine. He is as good for me as I am for him; truly, I never understood what it meant when my parents called each other their ‘better halves’ until we met.”

In an hour, there will be thousands of posts online about this. If Y/N and Michael break up, then I don’t believe in love anymore! Maybe soulmates are real! Couple goals! These are the kinds of captions you are anticipating. The two of you will send screenshots to one another and laugh about how gullible the world is, and then you will strategically plan which comments to like and posts to favorite so that your message goes through. That’s the extent of your relationship with him, really, at least when the two of you are alone. The detachedness makes things much easier than they otherwise would be.

“There’s a popular theory going around that the two of you have had a secret wedding already. Is it true? Am I speaking to Mrs. Kaiser at the moment?” she says, eyes glittering like a vulture’s. She’s ready to pounce on any hesitation, any brief indecision that you might show, but you have spent more time in the spotlight than in your own parents’ home, so you don’t even waver.

“Marriage! I think we’re a bit too early in our relationship to be considering such things, and a bit too early in our lives to be rushing into major decisions like that,” you say. “If and when the time comes, you’ll be the first to know, but it won’t be for a while.”

It won’t be at all, actually. This relationship is not going to last for more than another month. Once the buzz surrounding you two dies, you and he will quietly split. It’ll be as if you never met in the first place.

Your phone rings as you’re leaving the studio. The caller ID says that it is Michael Kaiser, and the thought that he was watching your interview in the same way you watched his makes you feel odd.

“Hello?” you say.

“I’m not gonna marry you. Never-fucking-ever. If you’re expecting a ring, then put it out of your mind.”

“I wasn’t,” you say. “How else would you have liked me to answer that question?”

“Fuck if I know.”

Neither of you hang up on the other — you don’t think you can summon the wherewithal to, which is out of character for him but typical for you — though you both also don’t speak any further. He stays on the line while you drive home, breathing softly like he is sleeping, but you are sure that he is not. The point of it is lost on you, but then you drive into a tunnel and the call ends on its own, so it’s moot anyways. 

Your parents are excited to meet Michael Kaiser. They’ve read up on him extensively, watched all his interviews and even his game highlights. Your mother calls you the night before just so she can gush to you about how handsome he is, how you’ve really done well for yourself this time around. Her approval is nice to have, though superfluous, like a luxury soap or perfume. 

Your father is the one who suggests you all go golfing. You don’t know how to play, and neither does your mother, but you recognize it’s his attempt at connecting with who he thinks is your boyfriend, so you accept. You’re not sure if Michael Kaiser knows how to play golf, or really anything besides soccer, but he is game enough to come that you suppose he must.

It’s warm out, the sun beating down on your father’s brow as he lines up the ball with his club. Michael Kaiser stands on his left, and you think he’s somehow beautiful in this lighting. Not beautiful how your many attractive coworkers are, but in a manner which is distinctly him and therefore utterly irreproducible. His body is lean and graceful, his hair shaggy and gold, though he’s dyed the tips blue in what you’re sure is a statement. The shade matches his eyes, and also the inked roses on his neck. You have long ago come to the conclusion that the flowers are also a part of that same statement, but you have yet to discover what that statement might be. 

“He’s an improvement from that last boyfriend of yours,” your mother says, leaning back so that she can pour the last few drops of soda from her empty can into her throat. You and her are sitting together in the golf cart, seeking refuge in the shade of its plastic roof, sharing the drinks that your father had bought for himself and forgotten about the instant he stepped onto the golf course.

“He is,” you say. That’s not an exaggeration, nor is it something incredible. Your last boyfriend was an old classmate of yours who loved your celebrity more than he loved you. Michael Kaiser doesn’t love you, either, but he is honest about it, and you do not love him back, so there is no resentment between you and him.

“I like the way he looks at you,” your mother says. There’s a hiss as she opens a new can of soda. It’s a vice, but whenever you remind her of it, she dismisses you. She wants to have fun while she’s on this earth, apparently. Maybe drinking five cans of soda in one sitting means her life will be shorter, but life without soda isn’t worth living anyways, or something like that. The reasoning is stupid, but you know she is loyal to it, so you have to accept it. “It’s refreshing. So gentle. You’ll be talking to someone else, and he’ll just be staring at you like he can’t quite believe you’re his.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” you say. 

Your mother is about to say something else, but she is interrupted by a loud whoop. Michael Kaiser has hit a hole-in-one, and before you can tell him to stop embarrassing himself, your father is cheering, throwing his arms around him and calling him son.

“Your father likes him, too,” your mother said. 

“Oh, he needs to stop that! I can’t believe he’s making things so awkward,” you say, getting up to reprimand him before realizing that there is an entirely foreign sheen to Michael Kaiser’s eyes as he rests his chin on your father’s shoulder. He is not quite smiling, but it is a close approximation of the expression, and when your father ruffles his hair and says that it may have been beginner’s luck but he’s proud regardless, the curve of his lips becomes deeper.

You don’t understand, but you don’t need to. You may have facilitated it, but the moment belongs to him, and your presence is as unwanted as it is unnecessary.

You sit back down and take a sip of your mother’s soda. She grins knowingly and says that you look like you are in love, too. You don’t have the heart to tell her the truth, so you hum noncommittally and say that you might be.

You are growing fond of Michael Kaiser. It isn’t a slow realization — actually, it hits you very suddenly one day. He hands you a bouquet of flowers before opening the passenger door of his car for you. You ask him why he’s brought you peonies instead of roses, and he says it’s because he despises roses. It’s such an absurd answer and he says it with such a straight face that you have to cough in order to disguise your choked laughter. 

“Those must be some other kind of flower, then,” you say, pointing at but not touching his tattoos, at the delicate petals which fold over his pulse, azure and bright and silky. 

“No, those are roses,” he says, his knuckles growing white on the steering wheel. Normally, you wouldn’t ask further, but today you want to prod at his bruise of an existence, so you turn the music down and hug the peonies to your chest.

“But you despise roses,” you say.

“It’s a good reminder,” he says. “No flower lies quite as well as a rose does.”

That is when you are certain that you are partial to him. It is an unavoidable fact and also a treacherous one, but true notwithstanding. 

You put the peonies in a vase of water when you get home that night and hope they never die, although you know that they will be gone within the week. It’s how time works. The peonies will die and you two will break up and you’ll have nothing but a bare kitchen counter and thoughts of his intricacies to remember him by. 

There are no paparazzi around on the night when he wraps your hands around his throat. You are alone with him, sequestered away in the living room of his mansion, a bowl of popcorn shoved between the two of you while a movie plays in the background. This seclusion defeats the original purpose of the relationship entirely, but you sense that that original purpose is no longer fully applicable, so you do not refuse when he calls you and demands you come.

There’s a blanket tossed over your legs, the brilliant colors of his soccer club’s emblem faded from repeated washes. It’s warm, and if you were not busily eating most of the popcorn, you’d pull it up around your shoulders. As for Michael Kaiser, he’s facing the screen, his hair tied back in a knot, a pair of glasses resting on the bridge of his nose and reflecting the visage of the lead actress as she laughs. You observe him as you snack. You’ve seen this movie before and didn’t really like it, so you’re not missing much. He’s more interesting by far.

“I know that woman,” you say, so that he has to acknowledge you.

“Hm,” he says.

“She’s a jerk,” you say. 

“Sounds like your kind of company,” he says. You scoff, because he’s not wrong. He keeps watching the movie, and you keep watching him, until a thought occurs to you.

“Can I call you Michael? Even when it’s just us two,” you ask. He purses his lips. The actress screams. Her character has just died, but the scene is poorly shot and even more poorly acted, so it’s not as heart-wrenching as it should be. You would’ve done better, but your agent doesn’t want you taking any gory roles, and your manager agrees. In his professional opinion, it’ll ruin the doll-like persona you’ve spent so long cultivating. He’s probably right. It’s hard to adore a doll once you’ve watched it die so gruesomely.

“You can do whatever you want,” he says.

“Okay,” you say, swallowing another mouthful of popcorn, the salt lingering on your tongue long after the popcorn itself is gone. “Michael.”

“Yes?” he says.

“Nothing,” you say. “I just wanted to say your name.”

“Okay,” he says. “Y/N?”

He’s never called you that in private. Of course, when you’re out and about, he must refer to you with such familiarity, but in private you’ve never been anything but Miss L/N. It’s a change but a good one. You don’t want to ever be Miss L/N again. Not to him.

“Yes?” you say.

“I’m trying to watch this movie,” he says. “It has high ratings, so be quiet and allow me to finish.”

“It’s shitty,” you say, yawning and leaning back against the mountain of pillows you’ve created for yourself. “Overly gratuitous with its use of fake blood.”

“Right, because that’s a cardinal sin,” he says dryly.

“Sorry, but it’s hard to enjoy films when you know how they’re made,” you say. He picks up the remote and pauses the movie. You blink, because that’s about the last thing you expected from him. Then he turns the TV off entirely and you realize you’ll probably never be able to predict what he does next, so you should stop trying already.

“I know how movies are made,” he says.

“Did you have a secret acting career you never told me about?” you say. It’s a joke, but you also wouldn’t be surprised if it’s true. He’s taken to performing like a fish takes to water, and every day you tell him he should quit soccer and devote his life to cinema because of this uncanny skill.

“Not me, but my mother was an actress, and my father was a director,” he says. 

“Was?” you say.

“Maybe they still are,” he says. “I don’t know. We’re not on speaking terms.”

“Why not?” you say. He takes your hands in between his, and you can make out immediately that his instinct is to hurt you, to press his fingertips into your wrists so hard that they leave marks. It’s to his credit that he fights back the urge, fights it back and arranges your palms against his carotid arteries. His jaw clenches and his pupils dilate as he waits for you to realize; when you do, you rip your hands away for fear of wounding him further.

“Don’t pity me,” he instructs you, unpausing the movie like nothing happened. “And don’t ever bring it up again.” 

Now that you have his permission to refer to him only by his name, you develop a strange fascination with saying it. He’s amused by your new fixation, answering you in a lilting tone every time you call for him.

According to him, you are like a small nightingale, always warbling, always happy, fluttering around beside him and changing his mood for the better. Well, if you are like a nightingale, then he is like a dog, and you tell him as much when you are sitting across from him at a coffee shop.

“A dog?” he repeats, his face pinching. He’s just taken a swig of the black coffee he always orders, but you know his disgusted expression isn’t a symptom of the beverage’s bitterness. “Take that back.”

“Not in a bad way,” you say. Your own drink is sweet, so you sip on it slowly to prevent a stomach ache. “I’m not calling you pathetic. I just mean that you are amiable and lively. It’s a compliment.”

“It’s not who I really am,” he says. “Have I deceived even you? Amiable? Lively? Remember why this entire scam began in the first place — because I am neither of those things.”

“Right,” you say. “A peacock, then. Terribly vain and entirely alluring.”

He relaxes and raises his cup to his mouth again. He’ll be up late tonight, he always is when he has coffee, but it never stops him from drinking it. “That’s better.”

The reminder that whatever you have with him is not real stings more than it should. You throw away your drink almost untouched, which does cause him to raise an eyebrow, but thankfully he refrains from commenting. It’s a relief, because you don’t even know how to explain it to yourself, let alone him.

He walks you to your front porch and waits with crossed arms as you fish for the key in your purse, shoving it in the lock once you have it in your grasp. His farewell when you open the door is stilted and abnormal, so you stop him with a hand on his arm before he can go.

“Michael,” you say. You’ve never said his name like this before. It comes from a place raw and deep within you, a place that you are certain is purple and black like a wound. You say it like you love him, and you think it must be because you do.

“Yes?” he says. It’s the way he always responds to you, his voice like a song, a small smile on his ordinarily strict face — though today, he is not smiling. Instead, he is frowning, like he has come to an understanding that he would have rather not reached.

“Never mind,” you say. “Goodbye.”

“Goodbye,” he says. He drives away, his car disappearing around the corner, leaving you standing alone in the still-open doorway and wondering how you will survive the day when he disappears permanently. 

You’re not sure what it is about him that makes pretending difficult, but suddenly, it’s a struggle for you to maintain your aloof front. You find it disconcerting, that he has taken this aspect of your identity and rendered it entirely null and void; it’s even more disconcerting that he has done it unwittingly and unsympathetically. If you loved him any less, you would hate him, because he has stolen who you are and left you blind and fumbling, but you fell for him, and the way you landed broke something fundamental, so that it is impossible for you to get back up. 

“I think that I love you,” you say. You are on his couch again, and there is a movie playing again, which is all too similar to a past scenario that you think about when you are lonely. Tonight, it’s some soccer documentary that you find so tedious you are driven to irrationality. 

He drops the glass of water in his hands; you reach out and catch it before it can spill, setting it on the table in front of you. 

“What?” he says. You shrug.

“I love you,” you say again, and you’re flippant about it because you’re not telling him in the hopes he loves you, too. In fact, you know that he does not, so you are using him as a confessional; after all, the minimum he owes you is sharing the burden of this sin.

“There’s no one around,” he says. “You don’t have to lie. It won’t gain us anything.”

“It hasn’t gained us anything in a long while,” you say. It’s true — your relationship isn’t trending anymore, and most of your dates are in locations where you will not be recognized. 

He stands up. The documentary continues as he paces, and a referee blows a whistle while he tangles his fingers in his hair and pulls. You stay on the couch, your eyes following his erratic movements, your hands folded in your lap.

“No, you don’t,” he says.

“I don’t what?” you say.

“You don’t love me,” he says. He wants to sound callous, you are sure of it, but the effect is lost on you. He sounds more lost than anything.

“But I do,” you respond. “Who are you to tell me I don’t?”

“Don’t,” he says. “Stop it. This instant.”

You laugh incredulously. “Do you think it’s that easy? I wouldn’t feel like this in the first place if it was.”

“Why?” he says. He’s still pacing. It’s like watching a tiger in a zoo. You want to study him, but he demands your attention in a different way. “Y/N. Why me? Why at all?”

“The reasons don’t matter, do they? I can tell you, but they won’t change anything,” you say, shrugging. “If you find yourself in the kitchen, bring water back for me. I’m thirsty.”

“Drink mine,” he says, pointing at the cup you had narrowly saved from disaster. “And quit your avoidance. Tell it to me plainly. Why?”

“Because you are you,” you say once you have drained half of his glass and your tongue is not quite as papery. “It’s a series of things; there’s not just one concrete reason. You hate roses and only drink black coffee. My mother thinks you’re handsome and my father is convinced you’re a golfing genius. You are a dog but also a peacock and then again an emperor. Don’t ask ridiculous questions and expect me to answer them when I cannot.”

“I’ll hurt you,” he says. “I’ll hurt you, Y/N, and I don’t — I don’t want to. You’re the only one who I don’t want to hurt, so just give up. It’s for the better if you do.”

“You won’t,” you say. “I don’t think you can.”

“Of course I can,” he says. “It’s the one thing I’m capable of. The only way I know how to love someone is by hurting them. I’ll do the same to you if you let me, and if you’re telling the truth, then you will let me.”

“Because I love you?” you say. “You think I’ll let you hurt me because I love you? For shame, Michael. I thought you knew me better than that.”

“Please,” he says. It’s a word he’s never said, not to you and not in his life. Its weight hangs before you, pulsating in the air like it’s tangible. “If I love you, I’ll destroy you. And then you’ll leave, and it’ll destroy me.”

It’s a selfless desire that he’s disguising as a selfish one. You’re good at pretending, but you’re not good at telling when others are. That much is obvious, because if you had any talent at the latter then you would’ve seen that he’s loved you for as long as you have loved him, maybe longer. He loves you and so he’s urging you to flee, to destroy him before he can do it to you first.

“Damned if I do and damned if I don’t, huh?” you say, exhaling and finishing off the rest of his water. “Listen to me.”

“No,” he says. His obstinance is endearing, but you throw a pillow at him instead of cooing like you want to. He catches it and tosses it back. It lands beside you with a thump. You pat it for emphasis.

“Yes,” you say. “I love you.”

He plugs his ears with his fingers. “Nope.”

“I love you, I love you — hey, I know you can hear me!” you say.

“La la la,” he shouts over your voice, sticking his tongue out petulantly. “I can’t hear you, I can’t hear you!”

“You’re cruel,” you say. “I won’t deny it. I know who you really are, Michael Kaiser. You possess cruelty in spades, but it’s in the way that a rose does. You have grown malice like thorns so that no one may come near your heart, and you think these thorns will tear me apart when I extend my hand past them. What you aren’t accounting for is that I have done so already. I have reached your heart and still I am intact. Now, what is there to cause me harm — a mere flower? But a flower can’t cause anyone harm, least of all a person such as myself. You can’t, or more importantly you won’t. I believe that you won’t.”

He stares at you. The soccer team in the documentary still playing behind him scores, and the crowd roars in approval. You stare back at him and wait.

“I hate roses,” he finally says. “I hate them a lot. They’re the worst kind of flower.”

“I don’t know about that,” you say. “I quite fancy them.”

“They prick your fingers,” he says.

“Not if you are gentle,” you say. “Not if you understand them.”

He buries his face in his hands. “Go home, Y/N.”

You do as you are told, flagging a taxi and shivering while you wait for it. You wish for things to be different, but the amount of unfulfilled wishes you’ve made outnumber the stars in the sky, so you add this one to the list and vow to move on.

You have no desire to leave your bed the next morning, but you are also hungry, and your hunger wins out over your despair. You muster up the energy to roll out of your sheets and trudge downstairs, but you are miserable as you do so. You are utterly miserable, and the fact that you are only worsens the feeling, trapping you in an endless kind of loop.

When you enter your kitchen, you are surprised to see a pot of flowers sitting innocently on your counter. You didn’t put them there, so you should feel afraid, but they’re roses, and they’re the same arresting shade as the sky, so you don’t. You only grin, slowly and then all at once as you begin to giggle helplessly.

There isn’t a card or an explanation provided, but you don’t need either. You already know who they are from.

[starogeorgina]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐲𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧

Warnings: None

Pairings: Jacaerys Velaryon x Targ oc

1.05

Your chambers seemed much colder than normal as you finally confided in the knight who stayed by your side as you gave birth and the months following as you grieved, telling him the truth about your relationship with Prince Jacaerys.

He opens his mouth several times, but no words come out.

“I’m sorry for not telling you the truth, especially since you were by my side during my darkest time. I wish I had told you sooner.”

“I did something terrible,” he mutters.

You look at him in confusion. “What?”

He swats your hand away when you attempt to rest it on his shoulder. He abruptly stands and begins to pace the room in silence for a few moments before frustration gets the better of him and he yells, “You don’t understand! I thought the bastard had forced himself onto you.”

“A horrible misunderstanding was caused by my mother's lies. I cannot apologize enough for having you brought into her scheming.”

You had just finished getting ready for the petition of the heir of Driftmark, which would take place in a few hours when the knight arrived. You chose to wear a red dress to represent your house colors and had your lady in waiting braid your damp hair the night before so it would be curly in the morning. Although you knew you and Jacaerys couldn’t be together, the thought of seeing him again after learning he had been sending ravens caused butterflies to dance in your stomach. The knight expressed his concern that having the ‘bastard’ who forced himself on you, walking freely around the castle caused something to snap on you, forcing you to confess the truth.

“Princess, did you hear what I said?”

“My apologies, Ser Criston; my thoughts drifted.”

There’s a knock at the door, and one of your sister's ladies enters. “Forgive the interruption, princess, but princess Helaena has asked if you’ll help her finish getting ready.”

You offer her a smile and say, “Yes, I shall be there shortly.”

When the door is closed again, you are surprised to see Ser Criston hanging his head in his hands. “I should—”

“She’s still alive!"

“Excuse me?”

“Aelia didn’t die; she’s been in the castle the entire time.” You zone out momentarily as you process his world, and his voice is closer when he speaks again. This time he’s right in front of you, his eyes glazed over. “Your daughter is still alive, princess.”

Criston watches the rage of emotions that pull on your facial features as you try to make sense of what you're feeling. Your own mother had betrayed you. It's a long moment before you're finally able to speak again. “Take me to her, now.”

—

With no other choice, the knight orders all the servants out of the queen’s apartment sharply, and once it’s empty, he brings you to the room next to your mother's bedchambers, and there you see the most beautiful babe with pale skin, light violet eyes, and thick brown hair. There was no doubt the girl sleeping peacefully in her crib was a Targaryen and yours and Jacaerys daughter.

“Aelia,” you whisper.

Aelia Velaryon, the precious daughter you lost, the one Jacaerys never knew existed.

You lose yourself as tears of anger overwhelm the feeling of grief you once felt. How could a mother be so cruel to her own child? You wipe tears from your cheeks and turn to the knight. “How is this possible? I saw her die.”

“Aelia did struggle to breathe; however, against the Queen’s orders, one of the midwives alerted the maester, who managed to save her.”

“And you thought it was best to allow me to believe she was dead?”

He looks down at the ground to avoid your gaze. “I believed what her grace told me, and I followed her orders as the knight sworn to her.”

Helaena’s voice was suddenly echoing in your ears.

“He’ll break one heart in an attempt to fix his own.”

Every degrading comment and every slur the knight has spoken of Rhaenyra flooded to the front of your mind. None of this was ever about helping you; Cristion used this situation as a way to try and deprive Rhaenyra and her son without them even knowing.

“I cannot fault your loyalty to my mother, Ser Criston.” You were running out of time and would need to decide what to do quickly. It wouldn’t be long before the clubfoots spies told him that the knight had ordered all the servants to scatter. “But you will help me get to the dragonpit unnoticed with Aelia.”

“Princess, I don’t—”

“You will help me, Ser Cristion, and in return, I will keep your knowledge of the queen's treachery.”

Hesitantly, he steps. The knight knows he has no other choice but to agree to your terms. “Once you leave the dragonpit, where will you go?”

“Essos, our name will mean nothing in the free cities.”

—

Feeling terrified, you stared at Aelia, unsure of how to settle her. She began wailing the second Kain took flight. The reality of your daughter being alive was still sinking in, along with the realization that you have no clue how to be a mother.

“Princess, may I?”

You look up at the wet nurse, who offers you a kind smile, shaking your hand at Aelia. Soon as you walked into the castle at Dragonstone, you began to sob, feeling overwhelmed and completely alone. One of the ladies who you’d spoken with on several occasions noticed and recognised you despite wearing clothes that resembled those of the small folks. She hurried you through the castle along to quiet quarters, then alerted the maester, who summoned the wet nurse.

You had no plan beyond telling Jacaerys the truth when his family arrived back. Although you couldn’t guess when that would be, you desperately wanted to talk to him in person but knew you didn’t have time.

If he rejected you, then you really would fly off to the free cities, wherever it was safest.

Kain was lurking around the caves in Dragonstone, staying hidden from the view of others.

The lady in waiting rests her hand on your shoulder and says, “It will be okay, princess.”

You force a polite smile, knowing that nothing will be okay for some time. You visited your father's chambers before leaving and informed your mother that you had decided to stay out of sight until the blacks had left the house, which she agreed was a good idea, unknowingly playing a part in the plan you had set into motion.

Kain emerges from the shadows in the dragon pit, baring his teeth at the knight in front of him as Criston hands your daughter to you. It was said dragons sense their riders emotions, and after witnessing how aggressive your dragon is towards Criston, you’d consider it to be true.

The knight gulps down. “The Queen will be requesting my presence—”

“Not yet, Ser Criston.”

He gives a questioning look before glancing to the side as Kain opens his mouth every so slightly. No words needed to be said for the knight to understand the danger he was in. With the petition for driftmark taking place in less than an hour, most servants were busy in preparation for it and the feast your father wished to hold afterwards. None of your ill-will was against him, but the festering hatred for your mother was so strong that you had no choice but to go down the path of bringing her down, not only for revenge but to protect your daughter and your siblings.

He gulps down, “How else can I serve you, princess?”

“You’re going to tell me what else my mother has been hiding from me.”

Once Aelia had finished feeding, the wet nurse handed her back to you, and you stared into her tired eyes and felt nothing but love while being completely unaware of the chaos unraveling in the red keep.

[themushroomofdeath]

law x female character | pre-time skip and debut hurt/comfort - angst-ish | anxiety, loss trauma, pre-relationship, panic attack

Trafalgar Law didn’t do love.

It was just who he was, he had already locked the part of himself that craved for those feeble, fragile feelings of affection a long time ago, it had died with his family, was buried together with Cora-san - the last spark of hope, an arm to hold, a father figure, a loved one. Now there was only a shell of a once carefree child, a cold man who kept everyone at an arm-length, one who despised the idea of attachment, of giving himself to something that could very easily be taken away.

No, he liked having control over himself, over his crew, his environment, but mostly, over his heart. Fancied himself a genius of a kind, always one step ahead of everyone else, not making a decision that would affect the decades worth of planning he did for his future self. A life made only for vengeance, for his family, for Cora, for the people he once knew and the child he once was.

So it really came as a surprise to him, that first irregular beat of his heart.

She was someone he never imagined to find in his life, a light of hope when he thought all was lost¹, an intellectual partner to his discuss his interests - and a diversity of others she kept picking along the way to share, an unexpected colleague of profession and abilities, someone not afraid to speak freely about what was on her brilliant mind, but never one to make others feel inferior compared to her. Her kindness seemed unlimited, as she confided one day about her dreams. “I want to be able to help the unfortunate, never have someone lose a loved one out of helplessness again.” As if she could read his concealed past, making him wish to have met someone like her, all those ten years ago, when he needed the most. 

“You can’t help everyone, that’s absurd.” Was what he answered instead. Like her warmth hasn't touched him enough to hope, to wish to be able help her achieve exactly that - be the beacon for those lost in the middle of a storm.

He should’ve stopped there, when the warmth reached him the first time. Should’ve stopped reaching for it. But like a man lost to an addiction, he would see himself looking for her around the Tang, just to talk - he would justify, she was the only one who understood all those medic jargons, she never laughed when she accidentally found his comics collection, she was interested in learning about it. He would even hear her opinion with his plans, her ability to look from a different perspective useful for him - no, not him, for their crew. In a year, she became a trusted crewmate and an indispensable partner.

And that was increasingly frustrating. 

Trusted enough to share his space, his usual alone time after a long time of work and research, he would invite her to stay around - as she was never too pushy of a friend, but always accepting of his company. They would sit alongside - a plate of rice balls, made exactly to his liking, two cups of warm tea brewed by the woman, and countless paper sheets scattered on his table. He was happy to share his studies with her, hear what she had heard and seen about the topic, an usual pleasant smile masking his features, but doing nothing to hide the fondness in his eyes. If he could’ve seen himself, he would’ve stopped right there.

In the moment, she was explaining how her powers worked, the ability of looking under a man’s skin and muscles with only her mind, how with the years of training in animals in her backyard, she’d come with the idea of reaching further and analyzing a being on a cellular level, forcing the seamless magical healing of most illness with her childhood wonder and endless hours of study of the human body. 

In awe as he was, he didn’t catch on how close she was, used from all her hand gestures when she was enthusiastic with a subject, it took him a moment to register how her soft and warm hand had landed on the skin of forearm, right above his tattoo. She was in the middle of explaining how he could use his powers in a similar way if he wanted to, when he realized the touch, the way his heart picked with interest and his entire body burned with longing for more. 

It was like being touched by the sun. One that should be always unreachable - to someone made of darkness like him, those burning hands were able to leave irreparable marks behind. As he would never be able to pretend it wasn’t happening with him, to ignore those pesky feelings ever again.

And as soon as he felt it, he abruptly took his distance from it. Pulling his arm from her reach, expression changing from passive to guarded, looking away from her surprised and hurt eyes, before cleaning his throat and deciding it was best for them to turn in for the night. Away from each other. 

The damage was done.

It has been a month since he started avoiding her, everyone in the ship can tell. Till that fatidical day, they were like two celestial bodies who constantly orbited each other’s space, now it was as if the mere presence of the doctor around a room were enough to repel the man back to his private quarter - in which he was taking refuge from inquiring eyes. Only the oldest crew was ever allowed to enter for reports and emergency matters, and even then they would always leave with a heavy frown and no answers to their captain’s strange behavior.

It was taking a toll on the crew as well, whenever someone walked by him with a smile and a polite face, only to be met with his flaring temper and moodiness, in which no one could ever understand why. Many tried to question the woman, to no avail, as she had no idea of what was happening either, he had just closed himself off from the world, and as an understanding person, she was trying to give him space to work it out with himself. 

But damn, she missed him. And if she only knew how much he was yearning for her, fighting against his deepest fears, trying to escape the confinement of his walls, causing all these explosive and melancholic sentiments to surface. It was maddening. He wanted to be rational about it - perhaps tell her to leave, but not wanting to ever live without her, ever again.

After two months, he felt like ripping the hair from his scalp. It was like her presence was just becoming stronger in the walls of the Polar Tang, he could hear her melodic laugh from anywhere, could smell her perfume everywhere, taste her hand in the food Bepo would bring to his room - she knew how to make it exactly how he liked. 

He couldn’t just give in. Too prideful, too committed to his work and chosen fate, too scared. So scared. What if he gave in? A pirate taking a lover was unheard of, and those who did would just live in a constant state of paranoia, not knowing when their enemies would find out about the weakness of their heart. Because that's what it was. A Weakness. Or at least that's what he kept telling himself. He would lose her, and that would be enough to break the last amended piece keeping his sanity intact. 

Just need to wait it out…. It shall pass, he tried to rationalize. 

After three months, it was her turn to be done with his behavior. She came to his room one day, with the excuse of bringing his favorite snacks, ignoring the warning glare thrown to her form. At this point, that was just typical behavior from the young surgeon. 

He was going to talk about this, or he was going to tell her to leave, because no matter how much she cried from the yearning of his presence and the confusion of not knowing what was really happening between them, she was also a prideful woman, and she was just as much done with suffering for a person she barely knew, even if she opened her own walls to receive him, she could just as much close it if prompted.

“So, are we going to talk about this - or you’ll keep pretending I don’t know you are avoiding me like I have the plague?” 

Oh, how infuriating she was. Snarky, sarcastic, annoying, fucking gorgeous. For a long second, he could only sharp his gaze, his expression taking a note of fury, wanting to tell her to back off. Like a cornered wild animal would. But he was no mindless animal, and her stance above his sitting form did not change one bit, like she knew the power she held over him. He could never truly hurt this woman.

Taking a breath, reclining his posture back in his chair, he schooled his expression back into a blank unamused glare, before answering. “It’s not something I wish to discuss. If it bothers you, that’s your problem, not mine.”

He could see how it immediately affected her, and it affected him as well. Her eyes widened, like she didn’t expect to be blatantly rejected, not after all the time they had been together as colleagues and partners - as friends. Her posture went rigid, like struggling with herself to have strength to fight back, to fight back the tears threatening to escape, and he could feel his heart constricting with the instinct of reaching out and taking her in his arms, protective of her - even if he was the one instigating those emotions in her heart. Her beautiful heart, who did not deserve to be treated that way, who should have left the moment it met with a heartless being like himself. If only he was selfless enough to tell her to run and never look back.

“Fine,” she managed to say, between a difficult breath, “If that’s what you wish, I will pretend we were never friends, then.” And with that resolution, she turned her wheels and left, closing the door with enough strength to be heard by anyone who was hoping for a good outcome from their meeting. And it was like all heart pirates, a few room away, collectively sighed defeated from it. 

That night, she wasn’t the only one who cried in her pillow.

It wasn't long after that night, when the heart pirates came to a new inhabited island, looking to resupply for a longer ride. It was a breath of fresh air, to not be stuck inside a submarine with the stubborn couple of bulls, hitting their head against each other, glaring from their corner, making everyone’s life miserable. 

And it came to no surprise that Eliza was the first one to be out, the moment the Tang submerged and ported, ready to use her energy to work and actively ignore Law’s existence for the few days or weeks that they kept anchored in the island. Hell, it might be a month before anyone is ready to leave and go back to the uncomfortable feeling. It came to a collective agreement that they better take their time away from the ship while they could, as long as the Captain didn’t catch on it.

And he did catch on it, around day five. Every supplement needed was reestablished, but no one seemed to be in a rush to go back to the next adventure, and the Island wasn’t even that impressive to keep them around, just a small village with enough entertainment for a day or two. 

“Penguin. What do you all think you are doing?” He would ask that day, after spotting the man lazily sunbathing in the ship’s deck, earning a long-suffered groan from his crewmate. From all the years that he was loyal to his captain and so-called friend, it was one of the first times where he truly wished the man could take a hint and work on his own problems. 

“What do you mean, Captain? We are taking one day to relax, you should too!” He said, but what he really wanted to express with that was: and please make amends with your lady friend, you are being a problematic asshole, she is so nice to you and everyone else, why are you acting like that? Are you having relationship problems or something? I know you have no experience, but anyone would be able to work it out after three whole months. But again, he did know his long-time leader from the inside out, pointing out anything obvious to him would just aggravate the situation, and chances were, he already knew he was being difficult.

Trafalgar Law from his part, only rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue, accepting it. Because he was not stupid, truly, he could tell how much it was heaving on his crew, his little squabble with the second tribulation’s doctor. And perhaps he did needed a break, not only from his work, but from all the drama he created for himself. 

So, hugging Kikoku close to his body, he left to find a distraction.

As it has been happening the entirety of this particular year, it seemed fate was against his plans of finding a peace of mind. 

Walking into a secluded inn bar, believing to be a refuge from the busy streets, the last thing the pirate expected to find was the object of his affections and anguish, sitting with her back turned to the door, fully engrossed in a discussion with another man. Not that he immediately paid attention to said man, but the way the other had his knee so close to his crewmate’s barely covered (deliciously voluptuous) thigh, while they both animatedly chatted, was enough to catch his scrutiny.

It was a bad idea to stay, he knew that, but he couldn’t help his primal instinct of protection to grab a hold of his brain, as he cared for this woman enough to keep an eye on possible harassment towards his crewmate. Right? At least that was what he kept telling himself, silently making his way towards a shadowy booth, sharp gaze focused on the scene before him.

There was an irritation growing inside him, a hand squeezing the pit of his stomach, making his hands clench under the table, for the mere thought of how adorable she looked gesticulating about a subject he couldn’t hear. It was him, a few months ago, who she would look after to share information and discoveries, it was him she would look with those big doe eyes, shining with excitement while she rambled away about something so new and interesting, she couldn’t help but have to share with someone willing to listen. 

And now he had shut her off, made her look for another person to give half the attention he had always been willing to offer, always enchanted by her intellect, but if he was a little more honest with himself, it was the way she’d seek him first. Holding him important enough to share her thoughts and confide her life with. Someone else having the same treatment was truly infuriating. 

But not only that, he could tell by the way the other man melted his entire posture towards her, he was very much interested in her beyond an intellectual stimulation. Only a few minutes of observation, and the Captain of the Heart Pirates was gritting his teeth, emotional brain rapidly winning over his logical responses to she’s not yours, never was, never will. Get yourself together. She didn’t seem bothered at all, either choosing to ignore or interested in what that man had to offer as well. 

His rational side was telling him to leave at this point, and he couldn't agree more to it. Sliding himself away from his seat, ready to ignore this whole encounter, before something caught his auditive senses, making his entire body go rigid. She laughed. That melodious and gorgeous sound, that he only ever heard during their shared times, alone in his office, talking about foolish memories and happier times.

In one shaky breath, heart hurting enough to suffocate, he turned back around, stalking his way towards the couple, stopping a foot from their forms, eyes blazing with quiet fury, but a placid expression of masked anger. She had only spinned around in her chair, before his gravy tone could be heard. “We need to talk. Come.” And he was leaving the establishment, not waiting for an answer, knowing she would follow anyway, as he was not only willing to speak about their problems, but he was her commanding figure in the hierarchy of their crew.

The quiet walk back to the was tense, even if he did slow his pace for her to keep the pace, aware of his long legs and more fit build to walk quickly compared to hers. He could feel her enragement and furious glare hitting the back of his head, but his mind was only filled with how he would go about this. 

Should he ask her to leave? She never truly wanted to join a pirate crew, their deal being about giving a space for her to work her medical research, be free to explore the islands they ported, to use her abilities to heal the people in need, in exchange, she’d use all her abilities to protect and treat the crew. 

But he didn’t think he could be that cruel nor that self centered with her, knowing she had no one prior to the heart pirates, who quickly became a found family of sorts to the female doctor. 

Walking through the deck, ignoring the questioning gazes, he went straight to his office, already planning to lie through his teeth to save himself from the situation he found himself into, pretend he was just saving her from an unfortunate encounter with someone she didn’t really wish to be around, he was too flirty, not interested in her as a intellectual partner, just a pass time. 

Perhaps come with terms of coming back to their somewhat friendship, with a level of boundaries around being too close and too personal, those feelings of desire would come to an end eventually, more hormones of his young blood, than actual wish for a relationship with someone who could make him happy. He didn’t wish for that kind of happiness, after all.

But before he could open his mouth, sitting in his chair, to gaze up to meet hers, she was already speaking, arms crossed over each other, face contorted in one of resolve and grief. “Law, perhaps I should leave this crew.”

And with just that, something he did thought about asking of her all this time, she broke his pathetic illusion of being fine with her leaving this ship, this crew, her leaving him. 

He could hear her speaking, lips moving around an explanation of why it was reasonable for her to find a different way of traveling, as this tension was hurting the ship’s crew morale. He had the feeling that she was nervously rambling, looking for him to give an answer to her plans, but all he could do was stare back, mind fogging and words turning too confusing for his understanding, slight sensation of disconnecting his mind from the harsh reality of She will leave me. She will actually leave me.

Why did it hurt so much? How could she hold such a tight grip around his heart? When did he allow this to happen? Was him that weak?

“LAW! Are you even listening to me? Please!” Came a distinct voice, in the middle of the chaos of his mind. He might be panicking, the medic on him was saying, his cardiac frequency was too loud, he could feel his entire body tingling, legs too weak to answer, he was going mad. 

But what made it more maddening, was the idea of never seeing her again, never hearing her eyes shining with excitement, never hearing her amused smile to one of his witty remarks, to never again gaze at this person who turned his days brighter by existing and knowing she was safe as long as he lived. It was like she could take all his breath away with one realization, and it was certainly not pleasant.

Licking his increasingly drying lips, he tried to focus back in reality, understanding of the situation coming back to him, she was asking for his opinion, she wasn’t leaving yet. “You can’t.” Was what he could come off as an answer, with the turmoil happening inside his being.

“What do you mean I can’t?”

“You… I- Just. Don’t.” He could hear his breath quicking, and she seemed too, medical trained eyes sharpening on his form, advancing in his direction like one would a hounded animal - and he despised her for it. How easily she could read him, how open and vulnerable she made him. 

But he also came to realize, those feelings would never leave him, ever again. Her love crawled her way through his defenses, climbed his colossal walls made of years of traumatic experiences, and reached his closed icy cold heart. He wanted to hate her for it, make her stop, tell her off, let him be comfortable with his loneliness once again, but when she looked back at him with those warmhearted eyes of hers, reached both hands to gently graze his tattooed ones, soothingly asking if he was feeling well… He could only give all of himself to her.

Both arms shooting up to bring her body closer, head dropping to her shoulder, trying to hide the shameful sob tearing itself from his throat, body entirely shaking in a full panic attack triggered by all the experiences he had lived so far. For a moment he was back into the child he once was, an orphan, lost, utterly lonely, rejected by all.

His pride in shambles, broken mind taking over his more rational being, the only solace in the hands caressing his hair, the weight sitting on his lap - as he made her lose her foot with the surprise. But she didn’t mind, she loved this foolish broken man, even if he never bothered to ask. 

She would hold and love him for the rest of their life, if only he allowed it. 

“Breath, Law. Can you hear my voice, dearest? Breath with me.”

A few minutes of caressing his hair locks, firmly holding him toward her soft body, soothing whispering to his reachable ear, and the breath started to settle into a more even rhythm, the sobs that wrecked his body, turning into soft exhales, but the arms around her only tightened, like she would run away the moment he came back to his senses. 

It was devastating to see such a strong and resilient man breaking apart, never once expressing his feelings so openly before, all those years of suffering on his own breaking like a torrent of guarded anguish, pouring down from every pore, making his body weak and tired. But if anyone should’ve seen it, he was glad it was her. 

There was no judgment, no pitiful gaze, no questions to be answered, only a warm body and hands resting against damp cheeks, forcing his tired eyes to gaze back at an adoring expression, already grasping the situation at hand. “Law, don’t suffer on your own anymore. You don’t need to keep your thoughts to yourself, you are only hurting yourself.” She kept on, smiling with fondness. “I understand it’s hard to trust, to allow yourself to give in to strange feelings, but I will only leave you if you wish for me to. Ok? I promise, I want to stay and hear all that goes inside your head, I want to protect you as much as you've been protecting me. Would you let me do that?”

A hesitant nod. A progress, or an emotional response of someone who was just so tired of fighting back, so afraid of losing what he had been building, so hopeful of what it could mean to give in and embrace the sun. Either way, acceptance in the way his head fell back to her body, resting against her ample bosom, focused on the way the rhythm of her heart lulled him back to a better reality. He knew from that moment, he would try to improve himself, if it meant she would keep kissing the top of his head like this, caressing his back and humming a foreign lullaby to calm his raging heart. He could love her fully, if it always felt like this safe haven. And perhaps there was hope, if she was the one who held his heart.

[coffeeghoulie]

Mushy May Day 7: First Kiss

Weeks of Mountain and Rain dancing around each other come to a head.

Much thanks to @forlorn-crows for putting Mushy May together, and to @ghuleh-recs for making the dividers <3

He/they pronouns for Rain

They dance around each other for weeks. Mountain still reeling from the sudden, bone deep rift that came with the death of the Papa that summoned him, the forced retirement of the majority of his pack, and Rain still learning how to exist outside of the Pits.

It doesn't stop them from starting to gravitate towards each other. They are both part of the rhythm section, after all. They share glances through silver masks, sapphire to emerald, while Copia instructs the other ghouls. They pretend it isn't happening, but after a while, it's completely undeniable. Of course, they don't talk about it, but it is happening, there's something there and Mountain's not certain what it is.

Aether clings to Dew after it all, having already been clingy before everything had Happened. Mountain doesn't blame him, not at all, but it means that he's alone for the first time since the Pit.

The water ghoul approaches him after one practice, the tour looming ahead of them. His bass is held in nervous fingers as he wanders back towards Mountain's kit on its riser, Copia and the other ghouls filtering out of the practice room.

"I'm-" Rain starts, swallowing hard; Mountain sees the way their throat works. "I'm having trouble with Pinnacle. Could we run it? Me and you?"

Mountain freezes, halfway through packing up his sticks. He wasn't certain what they were going to say, but this wasn't exactly it. He turns to the water ghoul, his eyes wide. "Of course," he says, feeling his cheeks start to heat against the metal covering his face. "What part's givin' you trouble?"

"The section after the first chorus is... Difficult," Rain says, tone a little strange, but Mountain pays it no mind. His attention is drawn to the way Rain scuffs his shoe against the practice room floor.

Mountain opens his mouth to speak, ready to point Rain in Dewdrop's direction, knows that Dew knows the Pinnacle bassline front and back, but shuts his mouth. He glances around at the otherwise empty practice room before taking his mask off, setting down beside his kit. His glamour fades slightly, rolling his neck to ease the crick in his spine as he sheds some of the magick.

He looks at them, earnest and happy to help. He settles back onto his stool. "Start from the chorus, alright? We'll work through it."

Rain nods, awkwardly taking his own mask and setting it on a storage crate. He sets his hands on the frets, long, elegant fingers hidden behind a pale human glamour. It fades, revealing powder-blue skin. Rain takes a deep breath, eyes locked on Mountain's, and they start.

Mountain helps them work through Pinnacle the best he can. He's never considered himself a great teacher, but he has played this song in front of thousands of screaming humans, what feels like hundreds of times.

They're not in front of anyone now, just each other. And Mountain wouldn't call Rain shy. He's seen the glint in their eyes, the sharp snap of teeth. He's not shy, they're just new. Mountain remembers being new as he watches Rain work his way through the bridge.

As they both play, Mountain comes to a sudden realization: Rain knows this part. They know it. He's not sure if it's a confidence thing that made them come to him, or something else, but Rain wanted to play it with him. He looks at them as they start to lose themself in the music.

It's just them, two thirds of the rhythm section. This feels right. Mountain feels the kick drum in his chest in a way he hasn't felt in a very long time. Or that's just his heart. He doesn't know, and he doesn't really care.

Eventually they stop, Rain's chest heaving as he takes a deep breath. "Thank you, Mountain."

He smiles, genuine and warm. "You're doing excellent, tadpole."

Rain's cheeks flush, an almost dusky violet. It makes tiny, silvers freckles stand out on their skin, almost iridescent where they're splattered over their cheeks and the curved bridge of their nose. "Thank you," he says again.

Rain wanders closer, bass set reverently in its stand. His eyes, wide and shark-like, focus on Mountain.

The earth ghoul stands to his full height, steps out from behind his kit, down the riser. He tries his best not to loom.

Rain gets closer still, drawn like an orbiting star. Mountain reaches out, cupping a big hand against their face, watching teal gills flutter against his throat. He tilts his head, watching the way Rain leans into the touch.

"May I kiss you?" Mountain blurts out, cheeks flushing a dark olive.

Rain's eyes go wide like saucers, mouth opening and closing like, well, a fish. "Yes," they say, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

Mountain fights every urge he has to just take, leaning down gently as he tips their face up, capturing their lips with his. Rain tastes like salt, the sea on a sunny summer day, and Mountain knows within an instant of the contact that he's going to be chasing that taste the moment they pull away.

They break, and Mountain barely has a moment to catch his breath before Rain's surging up, lithe fingers curled around his suspenders and pulling.

Rain's new. They're hungry, sharp, serrated teeth nipping at Mountain's bottom lip. The earth ghoul groans like the wind's been knocked out of him. It certainly feels like it. He grins into the kiss and pulls them closer.

[welldonekhushi]

Call of Duty OC: Vasili "Bell" Sokolov 🔔

OLD DESIGN:

NEW DESIGN:

Finally, I came up with my Bell's bio-sheet as well! I abandoned him for nothing, but now I decided to give him some depth and character for good <3

GENERAL:

Name: Vasili

Full name: Vasili Mikhailovich Sokolov/Vincent Stephens

Codename: "Bell", Ворона (The Crow, by the KGB)

Alias(es): Vasya, Vince, Adler's protégé (by Woods), Scary Old Man (by Sims)

Age: [REDACTED]

Gender: Male

Nationality: Russian (as Vasili), American (as Vincent)

Languages spoken: Russian, English, Spanish, Italian, German and fluent in many other languages

Date of Birth: [REDACTED]

Place of Birth: [REDACTED]

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Marital Status: Single

Occupation: KGB (retired), Perseus Operative (formerly), MACV-SOG (currently, but after the true ending he leaves)

Status: Unknown

Universe: Black Ops: Cold War

Faceclaim: Danila Kozlovsky

Song: "Ostrov Nevezeniya" by Andrei Mironov

Biography: Bell, unaware about his own existence and his past, sought to assist the CIA special agent, Russell Adler on the aim to hunt down Perseus. Every moment that passes, he starts gaining his lost memory back, which makes him question himself about what he truly is. Would Bell choose the right side of history, or choose his own?

AFFILIATIONS:

KGB (Committee for State Security)

General Anton Charkov

Major Dimitri Belikov (double agent)

Major Vadim Rudnik

Lev Kravchenko

Perseus Faction

"Perseus" (leader)

Arash Kadivar

Anton Volkov

Qasim Javadi

The Safehouse

Alex Mason

Frank Woods

Russell Adler

Helen Park

Lawrence Sims

Lazar Azoulay

Aleksandra "Aleks" Clarke R. (@alypink )

SKILLS AND ABILITIES:

Weapon induced: Knife, MI6A1, M60, MP5, Type 63, LW3 — Tundra, AK-47, Throwing Knife

Fighting style: Systema, hand-to-hand combat, a little martial arts

Special skills: Has a good sense of observation and quick to react to the situation, can compose himself in many identities

Talents: Vasily could learn languages easily at a fast rate, even after getting brainwashed, he still retained those qualities within him

Shortcomings: Has frequent headaches, loses focus at times, not very confident when it comes to taking a decision, becomes absolutely dependent on his superiors

PERSONALITY:

Myers-Briggs Type: ISTP (The Virtuoso)

Is aware of his surroundings: Because of his career as a special agent, Bell conceals himself in terms of his personal life in seclusion. Even knowing he's hunted everywhere, he intelligently makes himself invisible from the outside world which makes others difficult for him to locate or recognise.

Works in solitude: Vasili/Bell has always prefered to work alone, but it doesn't mean he doesn't mind going on missions with the team. But, as his habit of being a special agent, that trait normally came from him back in his days when he worked with the KGB.

Observant and intelligent: Vasili was able to survive any sort of situation because of his good observant skills, and his capacity to act quicker. He was able to learn a lot of languages as well, and posed himself in different identities, that made it harder for the intelligence agencies to track him down.

Is reserved and introverted: Bell really doesn't speak to anyone much, unless when it comes to planning or going for missions, he needs to form a sort of communication to keep it lively. He is seen being more comfortable with Mason and Woods, but never felt having a good vibe with Adler. It was odd on his part, but it was going to grow very obvious when the truth would have come closer to any minute.

BACKGROUND STORY

Bell, who first used to live under the identity of Vasili Sokolov, was born in a family who had an army background, where his mother and father, both served during the Second World War, and hearing their stories, it gave Vasili a motivation to support his parents legacy by joining the intelligence — which was the KGB, going under the codename "Crow".

THE KGB ARC [REDACTED]

When Vasili joined the organisation, he showed a remarkable performance as a special agent. Some say he was born to join the intelligence and make the country proud, or he was a gifted child who could learn anything quickly and successfully perform a mission by stealing info or destroying any plans that could harm his country, without any failure. He even pointed out possible mistakes while planning out a mission, and in the end they worked out efficiently. Alongside, he made himself a friend, whose name was Dimitri Belikov, and grew closer to each other and worked together as a team.

Sooner or later, Vasili's influence spread all around the world, especially during the Cold War, the enemies of the Soviet Union had a kill/capture on him. "Kill" because Vasili knew too much about them, and "Capture" because, they wanted him to tell everything he has with him, which likely created a risk for the KGB and they couldn't do so. With that, General Anton Charkov gave him the order to "retire" and stay hidden to protect himself along with the organisation. Disappointed, Vasili protested that it was the only thing that "kept him going", but having no choice, the agent decided to leave the KGB, under the General's orders.

PERSEUS ARC [REDACTED]

It was a matter of time, when one was going to collect him instead, realising he was now no longer affiliated with the KGB. Vasili was met with someone who called himself "Perseus", and requested him to join his alliance, since he knew about Vasili from his influence, and promised to give him full security, knowing he was hunted worldwide too. Seeing that as an opportunity, Vasili agreed to join in good terms, directly becoming Perseus's loyal agent.

As he continued his journey in the faction, he had shown his skills again which made Perseus as his most trusted agent, unlike the rest. But, at times Vasili has shown inner conflict towards his ideas. During the moment when he was explained about "Operation Greenlight" with the members, it left a strange feeling within his heart. He tried to protest, but he somehow couldn't refute his superior's words, and decided to acknowledge instead. Vasili had kept showing a remarkable performance, much to Arash Kadivar, one of the faction members, being envious of his relationship with Perseus.

Kadivar lures him to Trabzon Airport, where he takes Vasili, and explains that he didn't want any more "competition", resulting in him shooting the special agent in the car he was present in, leaving him to die and bleed alone. But, sooner or later, an attack situated on the airfield, unbeknownst to the dying Vasili who was growing unconscious every passing minute. Growing lost in his own thoughts, about Perseus that promised him to give him protection from the outer forces, but didn't recognise that his "own" people were against him too, as he questioned his existence at the same time.

SAFEHOUSE ARC

The voices echoed, and the man started to lose his breath.. until he woke up, and found himself in a strange place, where he couldn't remember anything of what happened. This is where, he encounters Russell Adler, a CIA agent who he curiously looks upon, having no idea. Unable to introduce himself, Adler briefed him about his name, being it under the codename "Bell". And this is where, all the very events of the canon game begin from here.

[razorblade180]

9 days of Lancaster Day 1: Training

Ruby considered herself an honest girl. Maybe a light fib every once and awhile but she really tried speaking her mind often! She meant it when she said she wishes to be a normal girl with normal knees. However, as Jaune flipped her onto a sparring mat, the next words out of her mouth made her wish seem like a lie.

Ruby:I am better than this outcome! I’m a natural born fighter, so why is this so hard!

Jaune:You really weren’t kidding about your hand to hand skills. I’m not even good.

Ruby:Lies! We all can’t be roommates with a ninja and learn cool skills!

Jaune:Yeah but…YOU have a ninja roommate.

Ruby:….

Jaune:…And a martial arts sis-

Ruby:Shut up! *springs up* Again! I’m focused! I will get you.

Jaune:Ren said most things come down to balance and timing. Try not rush this.

Ruby:I’d like to point out my weapon gives me reach and an immaculate pace. Without it you’re like two of me.

Jaune:Yeah but you’re amazing. I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it soon enough.

Ruby:Your kindness has no effect on me.

Jaune:Pin me and I will buy lunch. If you lose then you do it.

Ruby:You’re on!

Without hesitation, a flying kick went past Jaune’s head. He barely had time to put his hands up to block a flurry of tiny but rapid fists.

The pressure was short lived when Jaune threw a punch that forced Ruby to weave. Darn his long arms! She put all her concentration into bobbing left and right, successfully avoiding slower but powerful blows as she worked the ring. Lunch was on the line and it wasn’t looking too good for her. She had to really think about her attacks. She was faster but Jaune was no slouch. It all comes down to timing.

Ruby noticed his right shoulder move back and began ducking as Jaune sent a right hook. As she ducked, Ruby made her move; a right uppercut was headed his way then immediately pulled back as he went to block. The faint worked! Ruby twisted her body into a left jab aimed right for his face! Unfortunately, the blow failed spectacularly. Jaune raised his right palm and caught it! No way he predicted that! Ruby immediately went for right but was once again caught and both arms were raised above her head. She refused to give up her free lunch!

Both of them made their move. Ruby went to knee him with her right but wasn’t expecting him to lean her body backwards. She quickly lost balance and her leg was caught with his left hand as her wrists became pinned by his right against a wall. She hadn’t even noticed how far back they moved during the fight. Did he purposely lead her over here!? The proud but surprised smile on his face told her yes. Ruby couldn’t help but pout as he chuckled.

Ruby:Ren has taught you too much.

Jaune:Lunch is on you today.

Ruby:This is clearly a draw.

Jaune:Rubes, you’re pinned.

Ruby:Last time i checked, your arms are full. Looks like we both can’t properly attack. I call that a draw~

She confidently huffed. That was until their little stare down slowly grew closer.

Jaune:You really think I’m out of moves?

Ruby:Pr-Prove me wrong.

Why was she stuttering? Now was not the time to show weakness to the enemy! Cobalt eyes grew ever larger as they got closer to pools of silver. The grip on her wrists became a bit more firm, as well as his fingers behind her knee. Escaping the pin suddenly felt more like a suggestion than a need, and Ruby was so thrown off right now all she could think to do was close her eyes and wait for his “attack”

After what felt like an eternity, a soft press against her forehead connected with his own before leaving. Suddenly her limbs were free and she felt his presence back off. Ruby opened her eyes to see her friend looking completely the other way with his ears as red as her cape l; and her face at this point.

Jaune:See? I could’ve headbutted you.

Ruby:Y-Yeah…right. I can’t argue with that. *rubs head* Lunch is on me.

Jaune:Let’s call it here. Also… I will but dessert.

He briskly runs off, leaving Ruby to stew in the moment. She didn’t know what was worse; that he might’ve been going for a headbutt from the start but she clearly puckered up, or the fact she could still feel his grip on her. Either way, she was dying inside.

Ruby:(Why does hand to hand have to be so close?!)