#literally he could die like a hundred times already

[suzukiblu]

New WIP start behind the cut, based off a request from @itty-bitty-fun: “I'd definitely love to see your take on micro/macro”.  . . . you know that thing when a kink is not really your kink and you’re like neutral on its existence, but then, like . . . someone asks you to actually consider it, and then you get way too invested in the process? no reason. asking for a friend.

“This is mortifying,” Kon mutters into his hands, trying not to die of said mortification. 

“Kinda reminds me of my Barbie phase, honestly,” Cassie says with a smirk, offering him the set of doll clothes she just got back from digging up. He glowers disgruntledly up at her, but it’s technically an improvement on the spare ace bandages from Tim’s utility belt that he’s currently wrapped up in. Kon is not actually a self-conscious guy and wouldn’t normally care about anyone seeing him naked, but normally he is two hundred and fifty pounds of half-Kryptonian muscle and not the size of a goddamn Barbie doll, as Cassie has so helpfully and mercilessly seen fit to point out. 

Actually, probably a Barbie doll would be bigger. Like, Kon did not have a “playing with dolls” phase for several very obvious reasons, but he’s pretty sure they’re bigger than he is right now. He’s more, like, action figure-sized. Which, obviously he’d rather be an action figure than a fucking Barbie, given the option, but also Barbies are bigger than action figures, and–and–

Stupid magic.

“You’re really small, wow,” Bart observes as Kon snatches the doll clothes and eyes them sourly. “I bet we could fit you in Tim’s coffee cup. Or maybe even his utility belt. Or maybe–” 

“Shut up, Bart!” Kon snaps, because he really doesn’t like how this feels, actually, and it’s actually kind of freaking him out, and he probably is small enough to fit in Tim’s stupid coffee cup and that’s just not something he really wants to be a thing right now! At all! Or ever! 

Also, the doll clothes are big and shapeless and awkward and came off a stupid cheesy “legally distinct” knockoff Troia doll, which means they’re also sparkly and kind of itch, it turns out, while also being stupidly flimsy and so paper-thin they're practically see-through. He feels like an idiot in them, and doesn’t even wanna think about how stupid he must look. 

Fuck his stupid fucking life. 

Look, Kon’s a big guy, okay? He’s used to being a big guy. Used to being the meat shield and the tank and the one who gets between everybody and the problem. Like this . . . 

What the fuck use is he, like this? 

The spell’s temporary. It’s not permanent or dangerous or anything like that. It’ll be gone by this time tomorrow, if not sooner. 

But it’s not gone yet, and Kon’s no use to anybody like this. 

“Could put you in a dollhouse for the night,” Cassie hums, giving him an amused smile. “Tuck you into bed like a baby doll.” 

“I actually hate you,” he informs her, and she laughs, because she’s the worst. 

“Actually I really like that idea,” Bart says musingly, tapping his mouth. “You grifin’ never let us take care of you.” 

“I still have TTK,” Kon reminds him threateningly, and Bart just cocks his head, looking him over speculatively. 

“So you’re not as strong, but you're still pretty invulnerable?” he asks. 

“Who fucking cares?!” Kon snaps in frustration. He’s still no use right now either way. 

“I just wanna know if we could fuck you like this and not have to worry about hurting you,” Bart replies reasonably, reaching out to stroke a fingertip down his chest. Kon–sputters, kind of, and reflexively recoils from it. 

And also, like. Burns alive, kind of. 

“I–like this?” he sputters. “I'm like, fucking doll-sized, Bart!” 

“Yeah, I know,” Bart agrees. “Like the perfect size to pick up and play with.” 

“Burning alive” is actually not a strong enough phrase for what Kon is doing right now. 

“You already let us dress you up,” Bart points out, poking at the strap of his borrowed clothes. Kon metaphorically vaporizes into atoms and literally dodges away from the poking. 

“I dressed myself,” he says defensively, mortified by the idea of–what exactly does Bart even have in mind? He's not big enough to do anything for any of them. His dick is definitely not big enough to do anything for any of them. Like–how would that even–how would they even–? 

“Hmmm,” Cassie says, and then just puts both her hands around him and picks him up, because she is again the worst, and–well, and then she flips him around, unzips the front of her shirt, and sits him down to recline right on top of her bare cleavage, his head resting back against her breastbone, which is . . . fine, alright. Like–he’ll live with that. Getting snuggled up to a pair of tits big enough to sleep on is not the worst imposition of his life, especially when said tits belong to the most Wonder-ful member of their whole weird nebulously-defined team situationship thing. 

But also, it’s embarrassing, because what the fuck is he supposed to do for her like this? 

[johnwickb1tsch]

A Walk in the Clouds/Don John crossover outline Part 1 ~

Paul Sutton x fem!Reader x Don John triangle

I don't know if I'll ever have the time to properly write this out, so have an outline. 😆 My huge thanks to @scarlettspectra for helping me get this ball rolling 😘😘😘 your ideas are awesome as ever!! And my girl gang @treedaddymcpuffpuff and @sweetwolfcupcake of course!! And and...I did it. I changed Don John to the proper don Juan here, because it was driving me effing crazy so...that's what that's about. 🤣 Warnings: hmm horny teenagers, fear of pregnancy? Parental death. Period correct misogynism.

-Your family has served the Aragons at Las Nubes vineyard for as long as anyone can remember. They like to say they’re descended from royalty, by way of a son conceived by the King outside the sheets, exiled to the New World, but the truth is you all came to California with the de Anza expedition in 1776 with nothing but the clothes on your backs, some rootstock, and hope for the future. 

-Once upon a time, your families’ land adjoined each other, but years and years ago your ancestors lost everything in a fire, and the Aragóns took you in. They’ve never let you forget it. 

-Especially not don Juan, the handsome-as-the-Devil head of the family, who has always had his eye on you. He thinks he owns you, like he owns the hundreds of broadacres that surround the compound, the vines and the farm animals and the houses where the workers live too. This is his kingdom, and he rules with exacting expectations. 

-You were a bright young thing, and you were allowed to sit in with Juan and his siblings with their tutors. Your father complained it would give you ideas of wanting to see the world outside of Las Nubes, but your mother insists you be allowed to go. One of nine children, all girls, you had watched your mother literally kill herself having babies and laboring for the Aragóns. She died in childbirth when you were on the cusp of adolescence. Your father does his best and you love him dearly, but he was never the same.

-You’ll always have a soft spot for don Juan, and maybe once you even fancied yourself in love with him. He is what he is, proud, conniving, and cocksure–but you happen to know he has a softer side. The pool is shallow in the insular world of the vineyard, and perhaps its inevitable that you have a teenage fling. On the night of the harvest, a celebration that always borders on a pagan rite when it goes well, he took your virginity in the dark amidst the vines. He could never marry you, of course. That was already arranged, to some lady of good family in Mexico, years in the future. But as your affair goes on and you learn about each other’s bodies, the way curious young people do, he tells you he intends to keep you as his mistress. You’d never want for anything, and you’d bear his children, and work for his household, the way women were meant to in your traditional world that seemed still stuck in the 1800s. As you lay there in his arms, the thought made you want to die. 

-You were so relieved when you bled, a couple of weeks later. That was when you decided you were going to strike out on your own. You find work in San Francisco, first as a maid, then as a typist with a publishing house. You’ve always loved books and you have an affinity for letters. You meet lots of interesting people, although you find even the men of the “counter” culture just want a woman to suck their dicks and wash their socks. Everything is the same, even when it’s different… Maybe you’ll write a book about that someday. 

-You get a letter from Las Nubes. Your father is dying, and you know you have to make the trip back to the vineyard one last time. You slipped out under the cover of darkness when you left, afraid don Juan might physically prevent you from leaving. You're a little afraid to go back–you don’t really know what he’ll do. His temper is a thing of legend at the vineyard, and you know he surely perceived your leaving as a betrayal, even if you were just pursuing your own life choices.

-A seemingly God sent solution practically falls into your lap, when you meet Sgt Paul Sutton, a newly discharged soldier just home from the War. He is almost too sweet to be true. On the road with a briefcase full of chocolates he doesn’t really seem interested in, his marriage to his wife he barely knew freshly annulled, he doesn’t know what he’ll do next. After he saves you from two creeps on the bus (and getting kicked off himself) you propose he accompanies you back to Las Nubes posing as your husband. Surely don Juan won’t pester a married woman?

-yeah right!

-Outwardly, don Juan welcomes you home, but you can tell for the sharp way those obsidian eyes weigh you, that he’s planning something. He so graciously gives the two of you a room in the hacienda, a gift for the newlyweds. You know it’s just so he can more easily keep you under his thumb. Honorable to his toes, Paul insists on sleeping on the floor. When you tease him he tells you bluntly that he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands to himself, in bed with you. You bite your tongue, wanting to tell him that maybe you wouldn’t mind that so much. 

-Your father is bedridden and slowly fading. You do your best to take turns with your siblings caring for him and keeping him comfortable. He likes it when you read to him. Sometimes you even read him things that you wrote, and he smiles and nods without opening his eyes. You don’t tell him you’re the author, but deep down you wonder if maybe he knows anyway. It’s the most validation you’ve ever received from him, since your mother died. 

-At first your family isn’t sure what to make of Paul, appalled that you would marry a gringo, an outsider from your Californio community, without the fanfare or blessing of the Church. But he’s a hard worker, and has a heart of gold, and they start to warm up to him. You find it very amusing, when the old men get Paul drunk and try to teach him Spanish love songs for you (while eating the last of his chocolate). It becomes a game, trying to teach Paul how to pronounce words. He’s hopeless, and you find it endlessly endearing. 

-He’s so sweet, and handsome, and true. Of course, you start to fall in love with Paul, even though you don’t really want to. He told you he wants a house and a family and a dog. Wholesome things he absolutely earned, after surviving the Hell of the Pacific front. You’re not sure what you want, exactly, except to be free. As time goes on, you’re beginning to understand that maybe true freedom comes at the price of being alone–you’re not sure how to reconcile that. You start to have more sympathy for the choices of the adults around you, understanding the “trap” you always thought they fell into without thought, as simply the way life marches on. That maybe domestic life doesn’t have to be slavery, if you’re laboring out of love rather than just what’s expected of you because of your gender. 

-Or maybe, your nubile young brain is just poisoned by lust and hormones. You don’t trust your own judgment.

TBC...

[whoishotteranimepolls]

oh lord here we fucking go. a defense of roronoa zoro, canon "stinky" swordsman:

it's about the complete, utter, fierce devotion. this man is the ride-or-die that can't die

that jaw is trained. that mouth is trained. that tongue is trained. i'm gonna spare further detail but i'm already in horny jail as i type, i know it and i'm going willingly

110cm

he bathes once a week NOW, but out of literally everything that could be worked on in a relationship, that's the deal-breaker? not the fact that someone, i dunno, abuses/shackles their child or is a murderer that works for the government, but the bath? (i'm sorry about the brothers thing, that must suck, but for real?)

as others have pointed out, tolerance for body odor varies (as does the production of b.o. in general, i knew people who could hit the gym and without any smell at all so honestly who knows where he lies on the scale)

you could actually make an argument that zoro bathes once weekly on purpose. hear me out: water has to be brought on board and is obviously needed for stuff like cleaning and cooking first, then nami and robin's baths, sanji's, chopper's and usopp's. franky might need water for steam powered something-or-others too, who knows. regardless, all of those are things that zoro would prioritize over himself taking a bath every day (or twice a week, or however often), especially if he knows he's gonna be working out again as soon as he's awake. what's the point? he keeps odd sleep hours (4-7am) and mostly naps on the deck in the open air, so he's probably not actually stinking up the boys' room as much as you'd think, and it's the type of thing he'd do to decide that a little inconvenience (him being sweaty or stinky) is worth the trade-off of quietly allowing the other things on the ship that are needed to happen more smoothly and easily.

he's insanely protective. he's strong. he will work as hard as needed (and harder) to make sure whatever needs to get done gets done. once again, he is HYPERLOYAL. he's adorable. he thinks that north is up. he tarzan yells while swinging from ropes. he hates chocolate and drinks alcohol like he doesn't even have a liver. he took on a hundred bounty hunters by himself. he's covered in blood more often than not. he's only cried like three times in his life and they were all about making promises for the future. "nothing happened." he flips from feral creature to absolute dumbass in 0.01 sec. he kept track of the order his shipmates arrived back at sabaody for no reason except to tease them about it and is canonically good at math. he gets flung around by his captain like a sack of grain. i'm sorry but for me there's nothing not to love, zoro is hotness incarnate (fungus or not)

Someone was actually able to defend Zoro, and it's not. Don't worry, he doesn't know what the fourth sword style is, or I'd get Franky to invent a power washer. I'm impressed

For context, they're responding to Zoro's Defend your Blorbo post linked here

[money-and-dandellions]

Lester has an impressively high pain tolerance.

At this point, he is a cockroach.

A cockroach who believes that he is a god and a very pathetic human cockroach.

love this loser (hero) very much.

[dimiclaudeblaigan]

Honestly though, this (what Ashe is pointing out) is exactly why I don't think GW could possibly end well. There's no "talking it over" after all the bloodshed (especially bloodshed started by them, and especially bloodshed started by them that didn't have to happen).

The way the narration leaves it "open" too at the end of GW just comes across as "it failed". It feels like... a kind of pointless story?

And I know some people might think that since Dimitri personally isn't as deeply affected by losing Matthias and so might be willing, that's still no good if his people and closest allies aren't. Rodrigue and Sylvain wouldn't be so forgiving, and I do think Dimitri would follow suit because that's his father (Rodrigue)'s closest friend and one of his own closest friends' father.

Add that to the fact that they have Sreng to deal with still (and I imagine sooner or Sylvain would figure out that Leicester had a hand in provoking Sreng to attack Faerghus) on top of losing Matthias and I imagine all the stress and aggravation wouldn't bode well for Leicester as far as Claude's thinking of things working out goes.

I just really can't see where GW goes afterward that would be "good" or works in Claude's favor at all. Maybe that was the intention and it was meant to be a route with a completely tragic ending, but apparently there are players who think it would end well and whatnot and I just can't see that happening (both from Faerghus' end and from Adrestia's end, the latter of which Claude discussed within GW itself).

If their intention was for a totally tragic ending, like yeah, I can see that... but as always the writing muddies the waters to make it sound good while something bad is happening. It keeps trying to have a positive spin on bad things as if they're just afraid to commit to a fully bad ending.

[coldflasher]

the flash should have ended with barry quitting his job at ccpd to become a stay-at-home husband and that's on that

[myriadsystem]

Fucken hate landlords man

[rileysluvr]

literally just könig jacking off to you and being delusional idk

He’s tossing and turning in bed, and he can’t seem to get comfortable no matter what he does. He had ditched his shirt after around an hour of staring up at the dark ceiling and feeling like his chest was going to cave in, but the sensation still wouldn’t leave him even after. Like it’s clinging on to every square inch of his body and eating away at him, similar to his tight shirt before being removed, though refusing to dissipate after the multiple attempts in distracting himself.

He’s burning up, and he feels it most beneath the fabric of his sweatpants. He stretches his back and shoulders against his mattress, but it gives him no relief. And he needs that relief, so desperately, he thinks he may just die if he goes another minute longer in this state. The twitching in his muscles with the compulsion that plagues them are far stronger than his mind. He huffs a final exasperation, mutters some broken and degrading swears in German, and ultimately, he gives in.

He swipes his unusually cold palm over his face before dragging it down his chest, trailing across his abdomen and following the wake of soft hair that disappears beneath the peaking waistband of his boxers. His fingertips stretch the band as they dip beneath it, and his breathing is becoming heavier yet weaker, more shaky-like, as they creep closer to where he needs attention the most.

He’s teasing himself, involuntarily and painfully. Perhaps this is his last attempt to allow himself a second thought, think twice before he commits such a dirty act on military grounds. But his mind is far too fuzzy to pay attention, it’s just been so long.

His hand finds his cock, exhaling a shaky breath at the forbidden contact, this is his last chance to turn back. His boxers are growing to be too tight around him, and this time he won’t be able to just put up with it until his thoughts dissipate. He needs release, and soon. It won’t be much, it’s only once, and then he can finally sleep, he convinces himself.

He pulls his boxers down his pelvis, leaving them just below where his hard cock is now free. He wraps his fist around his base, fingers enveloping each vein that bulges with desperation. He groans ever so softly, jaw slacked and eyes closed as goosebumps coat his chest and arms. It’s mere seconds before his mind is plummeting into uncontrollable thoughts and damned-worthy desires.

It’s your hand, he’s already imagining. It’s your smaller fingers around his cock, not enough to compensate for his size but still a hundred-times better than any fist could work. He knows you’d make it work. You’re clever like that, far more than he is.

It’s your thighs straddling his as your arm moves up and down at an excruciating pace. He needs your weight on him so fucking bad, preferably on his shoulders and face as he’d hold you down on his mouth. Fuck, he needs to taste you so bad.

It’s your voice that would talk him through it, command him on what to do until he’s broken down to the young, naive, want-to-be soldier he once was. He’ll do anything you say. He’ll walk through Hell and back if you tell him to. Hand on his heart, honest to whatever god may be out there. Smack him around.

Anything you say.

And it’s him who would satisfy your every want with unending diligence to thank you. Just fucking use him, already.

He couldn’t shake the thought, no matter how hard he tried.

No matter how dirty he felt imagining his coworker in such a position, rather than a woman of what he thinks his type should be, or even an actress from a porn magazine. No matter how unlikely it was that he’d have a chance with you, it’s downright embarrassing. And no matter how heavy that guilt sat in his gut, his fist only squeezes tighter with his strokes, retaining that languid speed that has him gritting his teeth.

You flood his mind and you don’t even know the magnitude of it because you’re just a girl living your, perhaps slightly unconventional, life in the military, and he’s the coworker that people only look twice at to check if, yes, he really is that tall.

Flashes of your face, and that pretty body of yours in the most innocent of outfits, refuse to quit their tormenting of his mind, and here he was, fucking his fist to them at night like a desperate dog. He wants to see how your skin would contrast his pale and heavily scarred exterior, and how you would surely take him from his comfort zone and make him a better man.

He swipes his thumb over the head of his cock with a broken whine, collecting his pre and spreading it down his shaft as far as it goes; fuck, he’s so sensitive, and he just needs more. He can hear your voice in the back of his mind, conceptualizing what you would say as you guide him past his threshold. You’d be so sweet on him, just as you always are on the rare occasion you’re put in a position together where talking seemed the best option for pastime. You really are just perfectly perfect all around, he thinks, and he wants you to know it, so bad.

You’re too good for him, you’re too striking. Truthfully, while the thought of you taking care of him in his most vulnerable state has him thirsting like a dog and bucking his hips up into nothing but a mangled hand and cold air, he knows that’s not him. No, he needs to be of service, one way or another.

He knows he’d be on his knees in front of you, on the ground you walk on, looking up at you with big eyes as he’d place kisses all up and down your bare thighs, careful not to ruin your clothes. He’d worship every part of your body until all you knew was utter admiration, though he doubts you’ve ever gone a day without being honored for your being.

How could any man not leap at the opportunity to praise your every step in life, especially if you’ve taken him to bed?

He actually whines out into the empty space of his quarters, face all beet red and eyes bleary from surprising himself with such an act. Self-deprecating whispers linger in the back of his mind and will remain for when he’s later clearheaded, but for now, the only thing he can think to do is continue fisting his sensitive cock to the notion of being with you.

He’d let you mold him to whatever you wanted, he’d beg you to ride his face and get yourself off with his assistance. He wants to get drunk on your pussy, he knows he would. He knows you’d taste better than anything he has ever had, and he knows he wouldn’t be able to stop himself once he starts unless you say something. Punish him, even, for not doing it right or knowing both of your limits because he’s just such a hungry, greedy whore who only wants more, more, and more.

Should you ever let him into your life, he’d be better off quitting his job and dedicating his future to just making you feel so good and so loved, and so, so proud of him. He wants to hear you call him a good boy, maybe even a loyal slut. Etch it into his skull so he could never forget, as if that’d ever be possible.

He’d fuck you in any position you’d like, and he means any.

Lay on your back, legs spread and just begging for him to bury his face in your cunt, and he’ll listen like the good boy he is until you’re beyond satisfied. Stretch it out to hours if you please; the man has stamina that would put any gold-medalist to shame, and never once in his life, has he been a quitter.

“i’m good, i promise i am… i’ll be a good boy for you, please.”

Pin him to the mattress and ride him until he can’t think or speak, use him to reach your own high while taking him for all that he has because that’s all he’s there for, is to make you feel good. The strictest soldier would turn to putty under your hold.

“das ist—…s’too much, ich flehe dich—ngh—! bitte, bitte—”

Pull him into an abandoned building and make him fuck you on the cold, hard floor despite being at work, on the job. He would jeopardize even the highest value of intel for a piece of you.

“i’ll do anything, i swear… i’ll be quiet, i-i’ll let you use me… jus’ wanna make you feel good. it’ll make me feel good, too.”

Either way, he’s going to end up on his knees once again and, if you allowed, watch his pearly cum drip from your puffy cunt before taking two of his fingers and pushing it back in, words and babbles of endless praise slipping from his lips as he imagines the idea of starting his own little family with you.

His abdomen feels tighter just thinking of it, you, and his hand with a lethargic pace around his cock. His breathing is jagged, ruthlessly so, and it picks up when his fist does as well. He stretches and rolls his shoulders, dying whimpers spilling from his lips. Your name, as well, and he’s blushing more violently then ever. You’ve got a spell on him; he’s all yours, if you want.

Christ, what would you say to him right now? Scold him, berate him. Even slap him for jerking off to the mental image of you without your permission, and edge him until he cries like an abandoned baby. Call him pathetic and promise him he’ll never, ever have a chance because he is such a coward, and all.

Oh, but you’re just so sweet on him. He doesn’t think he’s ever even heard you swear, let alone insult someone. You go to such great lengths to lighten the mood, make people feel so safe and welcome around you. And your fucking laugh, Christ, your giggles are always music to his ears. Anything that isn’t praise would sound far too foreign in your voice for him to compute. With those soft, plump lips at his ear, cooing him through his high he’s gonna reach so early, so fucking soon— fuck, he's…

He’s gonna—

A soft knocking on his door causes his hand to stop and eyes to shoot open, lightly gasping for air as he was pulled just seconds away from his orgasm. He’s frozen, dead in his tracks, and he waits for it to happen again to make sure he wasn’t just hearing things. The one time, he succumbs to his perverse hankerings.

A few seconds go by before he hears the knocking once more, this time sure it was for him. He swiftly sits up and then stands, shoving his cock in his boxers and pulling his pants back up. He leans down to grab his shirt, pulling it over his big head, introducing a new type of discomfort from before due to the cold sweat he broke coating his chest. He’s reaching for his helmet when there’s a voice coming from the other side of the door, and the hardened soldier nearly jumps in surprise.

“König?”

Oh, fuck. His entire body tenses up at the wake of your voice. Outside his room, right now, when he was just fucking his fist to the image of you. He couldn’t begin to describe or label what he’s feeling, but it’s something along the lines of utter shame and mortification. He mutters a quick and defeated curse under his breath, aggression only aimed at himself.

You’re speaking up again before he even has time to think, granted his mind was spinning and he was making no move to answer you. He’s frozen, stuck in space. Time seemed to race by him without warning, and he hated it.

“Are you awake?”

Your voice is gentle, as always, and so quiet in order to not wake anyone else in the corridor. He’s surprised he could understand you so well, then again, he’d recognize your voice from a klick away.

Could you hear him from outside his door? He wouldn’t ever be able to recover. His hard cock twitches in his pants at the thought of being caught in the act of jerking off to you, and he shakes his head, fighting back the groan boiling in his chest at the simple, yet so fucking intricate, idea of it. He’s a mess.

He decides against the hood, which would most likely prove a mistake as he could literally feel the heat exuding from his face. He knows his hair is a sore sight and his clothes are wrinkled beyond repair. You’ve ruined him, and you don’t even know it.

He swallows thickly as he trudges over to the door, attempting to clear his throat and stabilize his breathing, and his hot palm lands on the screaming door handle.

[thecapricunt1616]

Cinnamon - (c.b. one-shot)

♡ One Shot Inspo: Cinnamon invokes lust and is considered an aphrodisiac. It can be used in love spells as well as for sex magic. Burn cinnamon to stimulate your spiritual powers and increase your psychic ability and awareness.

♡ Summary: Carmy hasn't had pussy in 2 weeks....he nearly died (he's a drama queen, but you love it) So, being the loving amazing GF you are you Mountain Dewed it up down left right (oh!!) switched it up like Nintendo - and did it so well you put his ass to sleep. (I listened to Espresso the whole time writing this its literally all I could think about hahahah)

♡ W/C: 4,140

♡ Posted Date: 05/12/2024

♡ A/N: HEYYYY!!! Okay okay so MORE STAGEFRIGHT because the amazing wonderful talented goddess level writer @l4long-winded sent in ♡THIS♡ big brain beautiful ask, and let me tell you I had some THOUGHTS!!! I have such a worship kink so .... yeah this was v fun to write. I hope you love reading as much as I loved writing. My dear please send in a request whenever you want!! Requests are open per usual :D

♡ Warnings for BTC: Kinda Sub!Carmy, Smut, Fem!Reader, AFAB!Reader, No use of Y/N, No use of physical descriptors, Black!Fem!Reader friendly (i'm pretty sure pls tell me if smth needs editing!), Kinda Virgin!Carmy, Not edited (we die like men)

♡ 𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞 ♡ ➵ 𝘊𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 / 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘵 ♡ ➵ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 ♡

It had been quite literally a fortnight since Carmy had been able to fuck you. It was all he’d thought about, well - when his brain wasn’t busy going a million miles an hour about the restaurant, which is exactly what had taken up so much of his time lately. He’d usually be grateful for this kind of work, the kind of work that he’s going in at 3:15 and not getting home until 11:30 pm or midnight when you were already fast asleep. 

He was exhausted, emotionally, physically, mentally, spiritually - but sexually?! He wasn’t sure he had ever been so wound up before. His nightly sessions of jerking his cock in the shower, biting his hand to keep as quiet as he could while he thought of the view of you when he came in that night. One leg hoisted up, nightgown ridden up over your ass. The one you knew he loved, and some of his favorite panties. 

You called them your lazy girl panties because you told him you only wore them when you weren’t expecting anyone else to see them, but that very fact meant drooled over them. The slight discoloration from being so old, the little threads hanging off the leg holes and waistband. The tiny hole right in the waistband that he loved to thumb with while cuddling in bed. 

 Two weeks. Fourteen days. Three hundred and thirty six hours. Twenty thousand, one hundred and sixty minutes. 

That had been how long he had gone without being inside of you. He didn’t know his dick could get depressed, but his dick was fucking depressed. Getting off felt like a chore. When he’d jack off, he took an extra 15 minutes yanking on the thing because he could barely cum anymore, even though his balls were aching like he needed to. 

Every time he got home, he’d stand in the doorway, just watching you. You would be peacefully asleep, chest lightly rising and falling, your beautiful body covered by some loose sleep thing. A loose sleep thing that he fantasized about ripping off into shreds. 

Tonight though - he could cry. You were up - you were fucking awake. Through his own selfish desires he didn’t even realize it was abnormal, the only thing he could think about was the blood rushing to his cock at the mere idea you could possibly potentially be in the mood. “Baby?!” He nearly tripped over his own two feet rushing to your shared bedroom. 

You were sat up on the bed, book on your thighs - a loose nightgown that accentuated your curves and hugged your peaked nipples uncovered by any bra. He could bust in his pants and all you were doing was reading. Reading what? He could care less honestly because his cock was starting to hurt. 

You sat up, putting your legs over the side of the bed to get up and greet him “Bear! How was work love? I wanted to stay up so that we could - what’re you…” you trail off confused as he slinks to his knees before you, between your thighs and lifting up your leg, putting the top of your foot to his lips. 

“In…22 minutes” he starts between kissing up your bare ankle and calf “it..will have been..15..days..” he stopped at your thighs, his cheek smushed against the flesh, he looked like he could both cry and that he was coming home. “Since I touched you. Please. Please baby - can I make you feel good? Mm?” He mumbled into your skin. “Please princess? I’m dyin’ here. I’m fuckin- I literally cut my hand t’day thinkin’ bout you. I fuckin need you” he kissed over each little tiny inch of your flesh. He was…worshiping you. 

The idea sent waves of warmth flooding your core. “Yeah baby?” You took his hand, seeing a bandage over his knuckle and kissing it gently. 

The feeling of your lips to his skin made him whimper “please- please please please” he begged, sitting back on his feet and looking up at you through his bangs, pushing his hair back quickly before his hand found your calf once again, rubbing little strokes into it “please?” He asked softly, his big blue eyes blown wide with lust. 

You gently cup his cheek “and who’s fault is it?” You were teasing now. But you knew the bastard loved a challenge, and you also had been horny and your fingers were nothing compared to Carmys. 

“Mine. It’s mine. My stupid fuckin job angel I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry, how can I make it up? What can I do pretty? Mm? I’ll do whatever you want” he begged you and kissed over your knees and calves, pressing short little pecks to the skin. You grabbed his greasy curls at the root, raking through a few of the knots gently before pulling him to look at you and he moaned gently at the sudden firmness 

“Do you know I’ve been fingering myself to fall asleep. All alone - for all those days you said. My poor hand” you held it up and he brought it to his lips on instinct, kissing the pads of your fingers before opening his mouth expectantly. “Good Bear” you purr and his eyes flutter shut as you stuck in your middle and ring fingers, slipping them over his tongue. He moaned at the contact, not holding back. 

You smiled a bit, tugging his jaw open and he looks up at you, cheeks flushed and drool beginning to drip down his chin. “You’re pretty” you said softly and he swirls his tongue around your fingers before sucking on them gently, not breaking your gaze. Your stomach flips with excitement, your panties becoming uncomfortably wet but you weren’t going to let that show. He deserved to beg. 

“Do you deserve to be sucking on my fingers though?” You pull them away suddenly and he gasps a bit a the unexpected emptiness of his mouth, a pathetic little pout appearing on his lips. 

“No” he said softly and you grab his cheeks, smushing them gently “but I can make you feel soooo good - you deserve it” he told you and you pat his cheek gently with your hand, your wet fingers leaving a glistening streak on his cheek. 

“I know I do. Are you gonna eat me out? Like a good boy?” You laid back on your elbows, spreading your thigh and resting one of your feet on the edge of the bed, showing your panties that had grown a large wet spot during your conversation. He watches every move you make, his eyes focusing on the wet spot you sighed softly, deciding to take pity on him. “You can sniff my panties, you little freak” you giggle and he looked up at you like a kid on Christmas 

He wasted no time shoving his nose right in the wetness, inhaling your sweet yummy scent and groaning “thank you” he mumbled into the curve of your ass, his hot breath against the skin causing your clit to twitch and goosebumps to appear on your skin. You feel him taking another deep breath and nuzzling his nose back and forth to get deeper like a dog and you couldn’t help but giggle, raking through the knots in his curls as he stuck out his tongue and caught the fabric of your panties with his teeth, sucking the juices out of the fabric and moaning hotly. 

His hands were everywhere, rubbing over your calves, your thighs, your stomach, pushing your nightgown over your tits and rolling a peaked nipple between his fingers. You bit your lip, head falling back slightly and grinding your hips into his face, using his nose to get yourself off. “Go ahead Bear take off your jeans, you’ve been good t’night and I know you’re probably hurting” you told him 

He sighed into you gratefully “y’too nice t’me” he kissed over your clothed pussy a few times as he unbuckled his belt with shaking hands, the anticipation was killing him. 

“No me being nice would be telling you that you could touch yourself. And no dripping on my carpet” you told him as he pushed his boxers and jeans enough to let his cock free that was indeed dripping already. His boxers were creamy and wet with pre, he had been pathetically grinding against the boxspring as he sucked your panties like it was his life source. 

“Shit-“  he said, wrapping a fist around his weeping tip as he continued tonguing and nosing at the fabric between your legs. “Can I- c-can I please?” He begged pathetically, that softness to his voice you loved so much. A sweet whiney grunt leaves his lips as you pull his hair, forcing him to look at you. 

“What have we talked about? Use your words.” You said firmly. 

“Can I- take your panties off…p-please?” He asked shyly “wanna make y’feel good - wanna taste your pussy I miss it s’much - tastes so good baby please lemme taste you” he said and his whiney husky voice mixed with his breathlessness from being shoved into the fabric of your dripping cunt made you clench around nothing. 

“I wanna cum twice before you even think about touching yourself. Also take your shirt off you’re way overdressed for my taste.” You dropped his hair and he nods obediently, standing and shoving off his jeans and tugging his shirt off by the neck in that stupid jockish way that had you wanting to shove him down back first on the mattress and ride him until his balls were empty. 

Instead you kept your cool, crossing your arms over and slipping your nightgown over your head before taking off your panties, flicking them at him playfully to which he balled them up and pressed them to his nose, inhaling deeply. This caused you to laugh as you adjusted your pillow to lay back, spreading your thighs and gathering some of your wetness from your hole, dragging it up to your clit and rubbing little circles into it. 

“Mmm are you gonna keep sniffing those like a pervy-puppy or are you gonna come make good on your promise. I’m surprised this poor hand hasn’t fallen off” you teased and he dropped the panties where he was standing, coming and crawling on the bed, laying in front of you and hoisting your thighs over each of his shoulders 

“Mmm” he hummed, his eyes fluttering shut and leaning in, resting his cheek on your thigh and inhaling. “Smell so fuckin’ good” he mumbled “mouth is literally watering” he kissed your inner thighs sweetly, ravishing the skin in gentle affection. “God I missed this fuckin missed this s’much. Every morning this pretty fuckin pussy is just beggin me” he kissed your mound gently, dipping his tongue out and moaning at the taste of sweat and lotion on your skin, lapping it up like a life source. 

“Yeah? I think you’re the beggar” you mused, jaw falling slack as he licks a stripe up your heat, moaning pathetically at your taste. His eyes rolled back slightly before fluttering shut in pure bliss “mmm so pretty baby” you coo and he smiled slightly, his cheeks a blushy pink that matched the tops of his ears. He nuzzled into you, nose rubbing over your clit in the way that made you gasp, your toes curling lightly “good boy” you praised, voice breathy and light 

“Taste so good” he mumbled into your cunt, squeezing your thighs gently with his tattooed fingers. He moaned into you, watching you with wide lustful eyes. 

“Those pretty eyes” you said softly, gently brushing his warm cheekbone with your knuckle and he hums into you gently. He sucked your folds between his lips, pulling away slightly and rubbing your thighs up and down with his calloused palms, squeezing gently. You moaned hotly and couldn’t contain the cry that followed when he finally stuck his middle finger in your dripping hole, hips bucking to try and get more of him. 

“So soft, so so soft” he mumbled into your clit before kissing it gently and taking the now swollen throbbing bud in his mouth, flicking his tongue over it quickly. His fingers twist and curl as he pumps them in and out at a languid pace. You felt that familiar jolt of pleasure as the pad of his finger brushed your g spot. 

“Augh- ah- yes bear” you mewled, “right there- there” you grab his wrist and squeeze it and in response he curled his fingers the same way and you dug your feet into his shoulder blades in pure extacy, causing him to grunt into you and curl and uncurl his fingers in a rhythm that had your eyes screwing shut and loud strings of curses and moans tearing from your chest as you came undone over his fingers, dripping down his wrist already. But with how long it had been since you had him this way, that was to be expected. 

“Good - good bear good bear” you mumble praise as your orgasm washes over you he works you through it, resuming pumping his fingers - your dripping arousal being able to be put to use as lube. The schlick,schlick,schlick sound of his fingers is what you come back to, your mind fuzzy and swimming through a warm sea of pleasure, sweet jumbled moans and whimpers coming from your lips. 

“God you sound so fuckin’ pretty baby I love you so fuckin much m’so sorry m’so sorry I haven’t been around as much” he mumbled into you and you shake your head 

“S’okay shhh- shh just keep doin’ what you’re doin’” you push his head back down, watching as his eyes flutter up to look at you and he sweetly offers his other hand for you to hold, your heart melting at the gesture. “Such a sweet boy” you coo, taking his hand and lacing your fingers together. He smiled a bit in response nuzzling his nose against your clit, his lips making cute little smacking noises against your cunt. 

“You’re so messy” you giggle a bit, seeing as the tip and bridge of his nose were wet with your slick, as was his chin and entire mouth area. “Your face is so wet baby” you told him and he looked up at you 

“Mmm m’neck is wet too” he paused to say before resuming and you gently caress his cheek, the only sounds filling the room being the wet drill of his fingers and the smacking of his lips, like he was trying to devour a popsicle before it melted. 

You felt your second orgasm quickly approaching, your walls fluttering around his fingers, he curled up into that spot and that was your undoing once more, your hips pushing back into the mattress and spine arching off the bed towards the ceiling slightly as your orgasm crashed over you with no mercy to be had. 

“Jesus- fuck!” You cried out and he held your thighs open for you so you wouldn’t crush him by mistake, your hands shaking as you went to wipe the tears that had gathered in your eyes that were screwed shut from the intensity and Carmy stops you, carefully wiping your cheeks with his dry hand and removing his other carefully, wiping it dry on the sheets he always changed for you afterwards and cupping your face while you came down. 

“You did so good baby, so so good” he kissed your forehead gently, rubbing your hair and caressing your back with loving strokes. When you were finally coherent enough once again, although you were exhausted - you realized Carmy was still rock hard, pitching a full tent in his boxers that were wet with pre as he coaxed you through your orgasm. 

“That’s gotta hurt” you told pull the fabric, causing his cock to come down with it and when you release it it springs back up to full standing causing you to giggle a bit 

“Mm does but m’back. I can’t go t’night babe. I was gonna go take care of it in the shower don’worry” he yawned, rubbing over his face you furrowed your brow, slightly offended. 

“What? Is my pussy not good enough?” You teased 

He looked at you quickly “wha- no - I mean- I mean yes? No- no your pussy is good your pussy is- is perfect I fuckin’ love y’pussy but I can’t go tonight baby my back fuckin’ hurts” he explained 

“I can ride you you know” you said and his big blue eyes widened a bit. You’d been together for 6- no 7 months, and it was true you’d never ridden him, not yet anyway. 

Carmen was a missionary man, not in the boring way, in the way that he’d get home from work and fuck your brains out while going on and on about his frustrations from the day. 

People wouldn’t usually call it dirty talk, but something it turned you on more then anything that between calling you perfect and beautiful and made for him that he was just casually going on about his shitty day like his balls weren’t essentially spanking your ass with how hard he needed it. 

“Uh- oh-o-okay. Yeah. Sure- I. Mmhmm” he said and fixed his pillow, adjusting his hips for you “hop on I guess” he said shyly and you laughed at his sudden switch in attitude. 

“Have you never been ridden you poor thing?” You asked and his cheeks went cherry red as well as the tips of his ears and bridge of his nose as you straddled him easily, resting your hands on his abs for leverage. 

“No.” He muttered. “I- I just…I dunno it never..came up” he swallowed thickly, averting your gaze nervously. 

“Hey.” You said “eyes” you told him and his eyes met yours immediately, “I’m honored to be the first person, yeah? I’ve told you a billion times bear - I love you. I love being able to show you new ways to feel good, it makes me so excited” you held his hips gently and he wrapped his hands around your wrists, needing to be touching you somehow. 

“It just…it doesn’t make me seem like…like a bitch does it?” He mumbled shyly, insecurity lacing his voice. You tucked your hands under his warm back, laying yourself over him fully, embracing him and resting your forehead on his. 

“You know how I feel about that word, and no it doesn’t make you seem less manly baby. If anything, it’s super sexy and it’s so sweet that you felt brave enough to tell me. Thank you for telling me. I’ve heard for the guy it feels really good cause all you gotta do is lay there, you wanna try sweetheart?” You ask softly, kissing the bridge of his nose gently and a small smile forming on your lips when you tasted yourself on your lips upon pulling away. 

“Yes please” he said softly, eyes fluttered shut as you cover his face in little butterfly kisses. 

“That’s my brave bear” you place a kiss to the base of his throat and he smiles a bit, cheeks going redder by the second. It was adorable how shy he got when you showed him affection like this, you knew he adored it more then anything - but he’d never be brave enough to ask for it - at least not yet.  

You sit up, “can I touch you baby?” You confirm, rubbing your hands down his stomach and his abs tighten at the contact. In response he nods, swallowing thickly and goosebumps rising over his skin. His cock twitches as you grab the waistband of his boxers “so sweet and responsive” you said softly, tugging them down easily as he lifted his hips for you slightly. 

“Jesus” you mutter at the sight of it, the tip weeping and pink crying to be touched. “Poor thing, you’ve been neglected- has Carmy been abusing you in the shower huh?” You said in the direction of his cock with a playful voice of concern. 

“Jesus fuckin Christ-“ he chuckled, covering his face with his arm a big goofy smile on his face. “You are gonna kill me” 

You smiled big, leaning down and licking a stripe up his length and he whimpers softly, abs and stomach clenching at the contact, a large bead of pre gushing from his slit that you catch with your tongue. He shivers adorably, groaning at the feeling of you licking over his sensitive tip. “If y’keep fuckin doin’ that ‘m gonna cum” he breathes, the vein in his neck present seeing as he was holding himself back, his balls drawing up and releasing in a rhythm. 

“Jesus baby i dunno if you’ll last that long we’ll have to do this again so you can get the full experience mm?” You grab his shaft, lining you two up and slipping it through your soaked folds, he let out a breathy moan, back arching slightly and you let out a sweet ‘mmm’ when his tip bumps your clit. 

“Please please please can I be inside you please” he begged pathetically, voice whiny and shaking - he was going to be coming undone very soon you could tell, which is why he was desperate to be inside of you before he was too soft to do so. 

“I dunno can I see those pretty eyes?” You asked, he was still hiding behind his arm, likely still feeling embarrassed this was his first time but you weren’t going to allow that. He shyly removed his arm, looking up at you and swallowing nervously. 

“H-hey” he said softly and you smile softly 

“There’s my bear” you leaned in, kissing him lovingly as you sink down on him fully, his jaw goes slack so you settle for kissing his chin and cheeks and nose “Feel good?” You giggle into his skin and he lets out a pathetic little ‘uh-huh’ 

“H-holy oh god” he groaned when you simply roll your hips, getting yourself off with the friction of the curly patch of brunette curls at the base of his cock. You sat up, using his chest as leverage to find a good rhythm bouncing on him and he nearly growls, a sound you’d never heard him make. 

“Ooo am I releasing the bear?” You teased and he chuckled a bit 

“Shut up- fuck Jesus oh god” his head falls back on the pillow “i-i-shit” he rambled and you giggle a bit, causing him to whine at the feeling of your walls clenching around him as you continued to ride his cock with all the tricks you could remember. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever fucked you so quiet before” you tease, sure your hips and thighs were burning from how quick you’d built up to moving, but his eyes were practically rolling back and the whimpers you were drawing out of him were nothing short of heavenly. He was shaking for Christ sakes. “Are you gonna cum? Mm? Y’gonna fill me up baby?” You asked him, rubbing his chest gently 

He finally opened his eyes, looking up at you with those big blue eyes, blown out fully with lust, pants falling from his lips and his dirty blonde curls stuck to his forehead with sweat. “Mm-mmhmm” he moaned out, grabbing your hips to have something to hold and the action making him realize he could help you move. His jaw dropped slightly at the realization and he looked up at you for approval. 

You smiled and nod a bit “you can help honey- that’s really nice of you” you said and he helped push and pull you off his cock, he looked down, mesmerized by the view of his cock burying inside of you, he pushed you down with more force and you moaned, “just like that baby, you want it harder huh?” You ask and he nods quickly so you rolled your hips a bit harder. 

He bit his lip, nose scrunching up cutely. He was holding back. “Bear- I know it feels good but you can cum, you need to sleep” you cup his cheek gently and he looked up at you like a sad puppy 

“It feels s’good baby” he whined and you nod, stroking his cheek gently. 

“I know honey. We can do it again t’morrow night yeah?” You kiss his forehead and with that he releases into you with something resembling a cry covered with a grunt, of course he had to cover it. He pulled you into a deep messy kiss, wrapping his arms around your back, rubbing gently and reaching down to squeeze your ass, feeling cum dripping out of you down over his balls. He smiled a bit, pulling away to ask “Mmm can we sleep like this?”

[rinkkuma]

୨୧ JJK BOYS AS BFS

ft. yuta okkotsu, suguru geto, & yuuji itadori

tags. reader implied to have long enough hair to tie up in one of suguru's, gn!reader, a bit of cussing, all fluff ! / author's note. gave my bbg (satoru) his own separate post here! i am planning to do a part two! stay tuned (≧∀≦)

YUTA OKKOTSU

definitely the type to be a tiny bit shy at the beginning of your relationship. nervous to ask if he could hold your hand or whatnot, but the moment you say yes his worries melt away. but once he gets comfortable.. oh boy. he is holding your hand 24/7. his hand is super soft though and he gives you the occasional playful squeeze as he smiles at you.

all the other second years teased the fuck out of yuta before you two started dating. his heart nearly stops beating every time he talked to you, there were butterflies in his stomach, his words were getting jumbled, everything that could go wrong did. he tried his very best not to be nervous and obvious about his crush on you, but it eventually slipped while the two of you were having casual conversation with the other second years. (they all face planted and laughed uncontrollably but hey, at least he finally confessed)

he is so gentle with you. whenever he hugs or cuddles with you, his hold is never too strong or too loose. he will never raise your voice at you for whatever reason. he always follows the sidewalk rule. walks slightly faster when he needs to open a door so he can open it for you. pulling out a chair for you. whatever it may be, he treats you like royalty.

yuta is super attentive! the second he sees you slightly shiver, he is taking off his jacket and handing it to you without a second thought. when he notices the look of wanting to go home while you're out and about, he is dragging you to the car. even the slightest change in facial expression, yuta will notice.

will do any chores for you. especially if you hate doing them. he's bored out of his mind while you're doing an assignment, and he doesn't want to bother you? he is cleaning your room, doing your laundry, and sweeping the floors. yuta doesn't mind doing them either! i mean it was gonna be done sooner or later, so why not just do it now?

SUGURU GETO

like the gentleman he is, insists on carrying your bag. anywhere, anytime. after you buy something, he snatches the bag on the counter before you have the chance. the bags are never heavy to him. unless he's carrying a whole haul of bags he'll admit it's a tiny bit heavy, but he would rather die than have you carry your bags.

catches himself staring at you a lot. you could be having a conversation at a table facing each other, and he'll rest his chin on his hand and look at you with the most lovestruck expression ever. when you fall asleep before him, he looks at you with a soft smile all the while he cups your face.

before you two start dating, he smiles so hard while he texts you. (his smile is even bigger now that you're dating, but we'll save that for another time) he almost starts giggling and kicking his feet type excited. suguru also adds ‘my’ to the beginning of your name for your contact name when you officially start dating.

always has hair ties on his wrist for you. (and partially for him) notices that your hair keeps getting in your face while you study? he is already tying it for you. speaking of doing your hair, he can do any hairstyle. literally you could show him a hairstyle you wanna try, and he does it perfectly the first time.

discreetly sprints runs to the passenger side of the car to open the door for you. absolutely insists on opening the door for you. especially if it's raining, he does not want you to get the slightest bit wet, so he opens the door while holding an umbrella over you. one time while it was raining though, he almost slipped and you burst out laughing.

YUUJI ITADORI

if he ever overhears you talking about a certain movie or show with him or someone else, he will one hundred percent watch it for you so he can talk to you about it. even if it's not his cup of tea, it gives him an excuse to see you ramble about something you enjoy and allows him to listen intently.

he loves hearing you laugh and seeing you smile, so he makes a lot of jokes around you. sometimes they aren't really funny, but you always crack a small laugh every time and it makes his heart race every time.

will hold the umbrella for the two of you when it rains. the first time it started raining while you guys were out, he was jumping for joy. (in his head) he has been waiting for this moment since like, forever and he almost always carries an umbrella around during the winter season just in case of this. the second it started to rain, he pulled it out of his pocket (that you did not know existed) and opened it up over the two of you. if the umbrella is too small for the two of you, he makes sure it's at least covering you. he does not care if he gets wet.

very slightly panicked if you ever get hurt. it could be as small as a paper cut, a scrape on your knee from falling, and oh boy. he is losing his mind. it's not like he didn't know how to tend wounds, but he would be so worried that your tiny little paper cut would be life-threatening. after about 2 hours of calming him down, he is no longer worried about the injury.

bakes you a cake for your birthday! (with the help of megumi, nobara, and all of the second years of course) it was a disastrous experience to say the least, but the cake didn't turn out too bad. sneakily figures out your favorite cake flavor a few weeks prior. (he asked megumi to randomly start a conversation with you about dessert and lured you into finding your favorite flavor) he shows up to your door first thing in the morning before he starts to sing (in the doorway) and gives you a bazillion hugs throughout the whole day.

[gay-jesus-probably]

Okay so I have a lot of thoughts about the whole thing of the Gerudo being a race of entirely women, with the only exception being one man born every hundred years, and that man automatically being their king. Now this worldbuilding comes from Ocarina of Time, and there's obviously a metric fuckton of unfortunate implications there, because it was 1998. And it seems that Tears of the Kingdom is sticking with the lore of Gerudo men being extremely rare and becoming the King of their people, which once again has a metric fuckton of unfortunate implications because it's 2023 and Nintendo has somehow gotten even worse about this shit.

But let's set aside the whole... everything, and look at this from just the in-universe perspective. How does it work? I mean, it's pretty clear that there is no overlap between the kings; the old ones are normally long gone by the time a new one is born, but the Gerudo manage to take care of themselves during the hangtime. So they must have an established system of government and leadership that doesn't involve a king, and somehow that system is set up in a way that does a smooth transfer of power once a new king is born and old enough to take the throne. But why bother always declaring a random guy to be your King when you already have a perfectly functional system in place?

I mean again, the whole thing has a lot of sexist implications, but we're not looking at this from a real world context, we're examining it in-universe. And we could just go the lazy route and say that their king is in charge just because he's the only man, but I don't like that. I mean come on, the Gerudo are a race of entirely women, and most of their outside problems come from Hylian men being creepy about it. They are entirely a matriarchy; there is literally no reason for their culture to have an inherent respect for men, even if the man in question is one of them. And they're desert people; they live in an extremely harsh and dangerous landscape, if they don't have their shit together, they will die. By sheer necessity, their culture needs to put a lot of value in being practical, because if they're stupid about things, people die. They really can't afford to have a shitty leader take over, and just letting some guy take the wheel doesn't really fit with the way their culture must otherwise work.

So again, why the fuck do they bother having a King?

I think it's mainly just a ceremonial position. Yes, if the guy is a good leader he'll be in charge, but if he isn't good at being a King or isn't interested in the job... fuck it, they've already got a functional government system that's been leading their people the whole time, why fix what isn't broken? The title of Gerudo King isn't about leadership or power. I think it's more about belonging. Because the Gerudo are a culture where every single one of them can be defined in the same way... and there is exactly one exception once a century. Men are considered to be inherently outsiders at the best of times, and more often they're enemies. A man born into this culture is a natural outsider; he is completely unique, and that means he doesn't really fit into his community. And well... when someone is fundamentally different from the rest of their community, they tend to be ostracized.

So I think that's why the position of Gerudo King exists. It isn't about them needing or even wanting a man to lead them. The title of King doesn't need to involve any leadership at all. It's about giving the man born every century a place in their society. It's a way of saying yes, you are one of us, you are a Gerudo, you belong here, you are wanted and you are loved.

The Gerudo know that every hundred years, one of their children will be fundamentally different from all of his peers. And so their society is built to ensure that a child who is completely different from them will still be loved and accepted. He will always have a place in their society. He doesn't need to earn their love, he has it just for existing. These are his people.

The title of Gerudo King isn't an inherent position of authority. It's a promise of acceptance.

[astridthevalkyrie]

a weak heart | rafayel x reader

“Let’s go all the way, tonight, no regrets, just love,” she sings, and her voice is a little pitchy but Rafayel could listen to it all day, “we can dance, until we die, you and I, we’ll be young forever!” How very wrong she is about that last part. It’s almost funny. Someone with such a weak heart shouldn’t be this cocky.

cw: reader has she/her pronouns, fluff, light angst, rafayel being bratty but also down incredibly bad

word count: 1.4k

There’s a dip in the bed that alerts Rafayel to her presence. He’d already known she was inside, even though her footsteps were hushed. He’d heard her walk in and feed Reddie, and he almost gave up the vow he made to himself not to engage with her just so he could snark about how she was more invested in seeing the fish than in seeing him.

(Of course, she very well may have gone to the studio to look for him and decided to feed Reddie while she was already in there, but. He doesn’t want to be reasonable right now. He wants to be upset with her. And she gives him so little to get upset with because she is and always has been some kind of angel descended from the heavens with an embarrassingly weak heart, so he needs to take whatever chances he can get.)

A soft touch to the back of his neck is followed by a quick kiss to his cheek. “Rafayel?”

He doesn’t answer.

“I know you’re awake, Raf.” Well, his eyes are open so. Great observation, idiot. “You’re not even gonna talk to me?”

The window he’s staring through is so fascinating all of a sudden, all bright and stale with an afternoon light he’s painted a billion times. Literally a billion. That’s how old he is. One would think he’d learned to be patient in that time, but one would also think that after waiting for a woman for centuries, she could cut him some slack and not make him wait any longer.

(Not that she knows that but. Still.)

“It was really last minute.” She kisses his cheek again, hovering over him and he wants so badly to gaze up at her, because that will be something he’s never painted before—he’d title it Requiem For A Bland Thursday and Thomas would sell it for a couple hundred million and he’d tell her that and she would only ask him to buy her a rainbow popsicle because there isn’t a greedy bone in her body.

“I was going to text, Raf, I promise I was, but I’d pulled a night shift already and my phone was dead and Xavier and I both left our chargers at home, and we didn’t have a chance to stop and charge anyways.”

Always an excuse. Always a valid excuse that he can find no fault with. But it isn’t fair. The people she works with—Tara, Xavier, Captain Jenna who she’s definitely a little in love with—get her attention and her time every hour of every day. If there’s a mission to do, she’ll drop everything and do it. And Rafayel gets the crumbs, the vacation days and the after hours, whenever she remembers him enough to spare her time.

What’s worse than that is the fear. He doesn’t let it show through text, always opting to send whatever he thinks will make her smile, but everytime hours pass without a response from her, fear seizes his poor heart. All the twisted and cruel things that could possibly happen to her start playing on repeat in his head.

“Rafayel,” she pleads, tilting her forehead against his temple. “Please, look at me?”

His chest burns hot.

When he finally looks up, he finds he’s absolutely correct in his hunch. She presents like a masterpiece, hair mussed from whatever fights Xavier clearly couldn’t protect her from. Her eyes shine tiredly, lighting up when they gaze into his. And Rafayel’s heart releases a painful thump, thump, thump because if he could spend eternity with her looking at him the way she is now, he’d easily live the rest of his immortal life the happiest person in the universe.

She leans down and pecks his lips apologetically. “I’m sorry for making you wait.”

(It’s what she always does.)

“It’s what you always do,” he says, not harsh but definitely blasé enough to make her wince. “Why should this time be any different?”

A sigh escapes her, and he starts to feel that old guilt again. To hold her up to a standard because he fell in love with two other versions of her, and to give her grief for being late as though she wasn’t doing an incredibly important job keeping people safe—it’s not exactly fair. To either of them, but specifically to her.

And yet, it’s not like he spends his time with her imagining a princess running through the sands calling his name. This version of her makes his heart pound all the same, whether she’s absolutely beating his ass at the card game in the cafe, or resting her head on his shoulder from behind while he paints, or when she’s in his bed just like this.

The biggest similarity is that damn sick bleeding heart.

“What do I need to do for you to forgive me?” She tilts his chin up with her index finger, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw. Rafayel could never imagine being spoiled like this even if he was to be sitting on the throne in Lemuria right now, with jewels and gold surrounding him and beautiful maidens offering their hands. 

Somehow, this is more. Somehow, this is better.

“There’s nothing you can do,” he answers flatly, “and there’s nothing I can do. So let me be mad at you in peace.”

Her response is to brush the bangs from his forehead and drop a kiss to his forehead as well. “You make me feel like I’m in high school all over again,” she teases quietly, a small smile playing on the corner of her lips now. “My teenage dream.”

He groans. “Don’t—“

“Let’s go all the way, tonight, no regrets, just love,” she sings, and her voice is a little pitchy but Rafayel could listen to it all day, “we can dance, until we die, you and I, we’ll be young forever!”

How very wrong she is about that last part. It’s almost funny. 

Someone with such a weak heart shouldn’t be this cocky.

“Is this my punishment?” His nose wrinkles. “To hear you sing terrible renditions of already overplayed songs?”

Her giggle is the real music to his ears. “You’re an artist, you should know talent when you hear it.”

“I do,” he insists, realizing too late that he’s giving in. The lightness in his stomach is a bit frightening too. This is the same woman who carved out his heart. This is the same woman who needed to do nothing but flutter her lashes at him to make him give in to her any request. If, tomorrow, she were to ask him to rip his own scales from his body and place the bloody pieces in her palm, he’d do so without question.

Her hand comes up to rest on his cheek and he leans into it with a soft sigh almost on instinct. Such power she possesses, over the God of the Sea, and she’s the only person who would never even fathom abusing it. 

“You’re cold,” she murmurs, caressing his cheek. “Why do you always keep your house so cold?”

(So that she can warm him up so that she can warm him up so that she can warm him up so that she can warm him up so that she can warm him up so that she can—)

“It’s better for blood circulation.”

Her thumb gently brushes over his lower lip, like she’s mapping out her quest to treasure. “That’s like, objectively not true, Raf. My friend’s a doctor, he told me that cold is better for short-term pain and warmth is better for—“

“If you’re cold,” he interrupts, “get under the sheets.”

A brilliant, blinding smile lights up her face as she does just that, slipping under next to him and laying down at a slightly elevated level so she can tuck his head into her chest. Warmth runs through him like a flood, even the leather of her uniform is comforting because it’s smooth and light and smells just like her. Her lips press to the top of his head.

“I really am sorry,” she whispers, running her fingers through his hair, “I’ll do my best to text you and let you know next time, okay?”

And if she doesn’t, Rafayel thinks, curling into her more, they will still end up like this, quiet words and mutual teasing, memories of the past that he will forever be cursed by and she will never be burdened with, a heart that dances to the tune of her commands, wrapped up in each other, and absolutely nothing will change.

Because who really has a weak heart?

(It’s not her.)

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

Why Didn't Peter Mentor Gwen?

Back at it again with my biweekly anti-Peter B hate post :) 💗 I'm full of rage - MEDIUM length post

If Peter wanted to be a mentor so badly I don't understand why he didn't just mentor Gwen.

Like... Logically speaking there had to be a time where Gwen DIDN'T know Hobie yet and was staying on Campus.

And we already know he was in the Society when she got there - cause he was there to see Gabbie die.

Like he's always talking about wanting to be a mentor.

And then Gwen pulls up to HQ homeless, emotionally wrecked, and in need of a mentor and suddenly he's like 'You got this one Jess 😃'

'I know I literally know Gwen almost as much as I know Miles and I know you're 8 1/2 months pregnant but you got this one Jess'

Like I don't understand 😭😭 the WHOLE movie that's all he talks about wanting to be a mentor so so badly and how sad it makes him that he can't be a Good Mentor

meanwhile Gwen is literally standing there homeless in need of a mentor ten thousand times more than Miles

Why not just mentor her????? She's literally right there

Like.... Do you only wanna mentor Miles or..

And I've heard people say he couldn't have mentored or housed her because he just had MayDay and like-

Bullshit.

Cause there are hundreds of millions of families that somehow can raise a baby and a teenager at the same time.

That's not even a difficult feat. That's not even uncommon???? 😭 Chances are a lot of our parents did the exact same thing - looking after a baby and a fairly independent teenager isn't that bizarre

And also - Peter can go home and put down MayDay.

Jessica can't go home and take off her pregnant stomach. If anything, Jessica would be the one MORE busy and more in needing of rest.

Yet Peter still left it to her.

But sure let Peter walk around in a robe while Jessica gotta play backup for Miguel - must black women do everything in this house.

And even if we say that Jessica is there because she wants to be, which she probably is, EVENTUALLY she's gonna have to take off to have her baby. That's inevitable.

So... What were they gonna do with Gwen then???? Wouldn't it make sense to give it to Peter, knowing Jess is probably gonna be on a short or extended leave soon....

And then there's the excuse that Gwen might not have wanted Peter as a mentor, which ????? Cause what makes you think she'd want a random stranger to be her mentor or a random stranger to try to befriend her or house her.

Gwen won't even talk to her own friends. Chances are Hobie had to do MONUMENTAL work to get Gwen to open up.

So it's not like Gwen just chose to run to people who weren't Peter. Jessica and Hobie most likely would have had to approach Gwen purposefully to build those relationships with her.

Which Peter could have done as well. But he didn't.

Jessica wasn't even running and eager to mentor Gwen, but she still did her best and gave it her all.

Meanwhile Peter B is crying and whining the whole movie about how much he missed Miles and he wants to be a good mentor and father

Meanwhile there is a homeless teenager he personally knows in need of a mentor and he pretends he does not see it

Okay dude. Sure. You totally wanna be a mentor for the purpose of helping kids. Yeah sure, you totally aren't doing this for your own self validation bro.

I even heard someone say 'Yeah well Peter only knew Gwen one day at this point-'

umm umm umm

THE SAME IS TRUE FOR MILES??!!! Which makes this WEIRDER!!!

He's known Gwen and Miles for about the same time, and have shared a lot of the same experiences together but Peter only seems to be interested in mentoring or helping out Miles.

Is that not bizarre?????

Like realistically speaking - Hobie did not meet Gwen day one. Or maybe even week one.

There had to be period in time where - at first - only Miguel, Jess, and Lyla know about Gwen.

And we see that Peter and Miguel are together a lot -or comfortable around each other. So it's not like Peter wouldn't know that Gwen is there now.

So like ??????

Peter were the fuck were you between the dates of Gwen arriving and Hobie meeting her?

That shit not adding up.

Peter wants to be father of the year with his daughter but he be having his daughter in the face of Miguel, who lost his own daughter, and be ignoring Gwen who lost her own father.

Like, dude read the mfing room!!!!

If Peter really wanted to be a mentor he would've begged Miguel to help Gwen.

Instead he wanna monologue about his goddamn baby. Don't nobody wanna hear about your baby.

Matter of fact Hobie should adopt your baby too. Give him MayDay. You don't deserve no children. Actually Hobie runs a foster home now sorry. Rename her to MayDay Brown. It sounds better anyway.

Buti will never understand it

Like how the whole movie he's crying about being a good mentor and letting down Miles meanwhile I'm here like .. gwen,.. gwens crying peter. turn around shes literally about to cry maybe you should Do Something

ESPECIALLY since Gwen needs EMOTIONAL mentoring, not TECHNICAL mentoring.

She's been Spiderwoman years. She does not need Jessica's mentoring style. She needs someone who is going to make an effort to connect with her emotionally despite her difficulties opening up.

But I guess that someone wasn't Peter!!!!!

'I wanna be a good mentor'

Well you're not trying hard enough. You might not even be trying at all. What is Miguel paying you for. He better not be paying you 😭😭

Idk what the hell they're gonna do with Peter in BTSV cause idc what he says or does every time he comes on screen im gonna be looking at him like

'die. sacrifice yourself. dive under the rubble. save gwens life. your only value to me is the relief i will feel seeing you die.'

You don't know how much it bothers me knowing that I have to rewatch this series with him as a character in it. It's like having a shit stain on your wedding dress.

Mentor. Mentor my ass. Hobie is a better mentor to Gwen AND Miles. The dude who speaks in rhymes and riddles can somehow open Gwens Pandora's box of emotional trauma meanwhile Peter b Parker 'forgets' he's wearing a tracking watch.

I am on a war path against this man. I will not be silenced

[ruified]

i just finished reading dazai, chuuya, age 15 so here are some quotes that made me lose my mind (and me explaining why)

…Their argument further escalated when Dazai wouldn't say who was the mastermind behind the black flames. However, Mori had given them strict orders not to solve their problems through violence or threats.

Therefore, they picked what they deemed the fairest method of deciding things: arcade games. The loser would have to obey the winner no matter what.

They ended up playing close to a hundred matches, but that's a story for another time.

the fact that they chose arcade games to settle such a serious matter is so childish /pos i love how they bring out this side in each other, they both had to grow up pretty fast but they were able to do stuff like this around each other. even within the sheep, who took chuuya in, he still had to act like a leader despite his age, and this change is demeanor is strikingly obvious when shirase and the others show up at the arcade and confront chuuya. dazai also had very little chances to act as a teen would and do normal teenager boy stuff, settling a bet over an arcade game was pretty close to that experience though.

"You can't use your hands anymore," said Chuuya. Then he shouted, "Dazai! Now!"

"I'm already on it!"

Dazai sprinted right for Randou, one fist raised.

The boy's eyes were as clear as the sky on a sunny day; they lacked any shred of trepidation. This was not something earned, for only those determined to live could possess their heavenly blue sparkle.

DAZAI’S EYES IN THIS SCENE???? my interpretation of it is that in this very moment dazai wanted to live, and that’s what he was fighting for. he wasn’t just spewing shit when he said that chuuya convinced him to live, at least to live through this fight. i love him sm, 15/pm dazai gotta be one of my favorite complex/fucked up lil guys

"You must die so that I can absorb your dead body and learn what became of my friend—so that I can fill in those missing eight years— so that I can save him."

oh rimlaine my favorite divorcees, how you make my heart ACHE. now “save him” can mean two different things here as it can be literally or figuratively. literally speaking, of course, would just be that arthur would find him if he was alive (keeping in mind that this before he remembered their fight). figuratively speaking, he could mean that he wants to save paul from being forgotten and being lost to time, to preserve his memory and, in turn, uphold meaning to paul’s life as something inhuman.

there’s also this whole section that describes arthur sort of feeling as if everything they (arthur and paul) went through was merely one sided because paul, in his eyes, had betrayed him and (quite literally) stabbed him in the back

"…I thought maybe that way I'd start to like myself as a person—me, a little pattern without a body of my own."

this quote from chuuya is so good and it carries so much impact, it just hit me pretty hard

bonus shoutout to dazai being just amazed by chuuya and standing there, staring like an idiot

[starsstuddedsky]

Blown Up Love

reader x wonwoo

summary: gaming is all fun and... well, games, until you start crushing on the only person that takes pity on you and saves you from mobs.

genre: fluff, university au, gamer!wonwoo

warnings: swearing, death (but it's fake)

wc: 7.1k

a/n: i wrote this so long ago i forgot all my jokes - i haven't played minecraft in forever but i imagine playing with wonwoo would be so much fun - there will be a bonus eventually bc this somehow isn’t enough fluff for me

You run as fast as you can, hearing the groans behind you, a constant reminder of what followed not far behind you. You swerve to the side as another monster appears in front of you, a flash of white and the cracking of bones snapping against each other. You can’t help but scream as you hear a twang and realize that you’ve been shot. 

“Are you really leaving me like this?” You cry, praying one of your friends will take pity on you. 

“Don’t you have armor?” Jihoon asks. “Why didn’t you make a weapon?” 

“I just wanted to hide underground, I didn’t realize it was night time already!” You scream as you take another hit, trying to dodge trees and what feels like hundreds of monsters converging on you. “I'm literally outside the base, can someone please come help me?” 

“You’re so dramatic,” Seungcheol says. You don’t have to see him to know he’s rolling his eyes. 

“I’m about to die!” Your hands are shaking. You know that one more hit means death. 

You can see the light of the base, your last hope. If you can just make it a little bit farther, maybe you’ll make it. A figure moves toward you in the darkness and you instinctively turn away, though a moment later you’re sprinting toward it because you realize that it’s not a monster but one of your friends. Wonwoo. 

“Wow, you were not kidding, there’s so many,” he says. He charges in front of you, practically glowing in diamond armor. No, literally glowing. When had he enchanted his armor? 

You can hear him slaughter them behind you as you make a last ditch effort to make it inside. Just before you can open the door you hear another whizz, and something slams into. Everything turns red

Respawn or return to main menu. 

You stare at the screen. 

“I got your stuff,” Wonwoo says, voice as calm and even as ever. You sigh and click respawn. 

“Thanks for trying,” you mumble as you return to the game, your character waking up deep inside the base. 

“Sorry, I was in the middle of mining so I couldn’t really make it in time,” he says. You meet his character by the entrance to the base. You can’t help but smile at his skin, mostly covered by the glowing armor. You can still pick out the glasses he’d added to his skin, just like the ones he wore in real life, big and as round as he could make them in the pixelated game. You can almost see him in your mind, probably sitting in complete darkness in his room, wearing one of the three sweatshirts he cycled through. 

He gives you your items, tossing them in front, then vanishes into the base, probably to return to mining.You thank him again and wander around the interior of the base until you end up in the room you made for yourself. You had spent the last couple days dedicatedly designing the base, carved into the side of a mountain with rooms for all five of your friends to return to and put their stuff in. It was hours of work that was nowhere near being done, but you were enjoying every second of the rather monotonous work. 

What made you even happier was that your friends were actually using the rooms you set aside for them, each of them designing it a little to their own tastes. You might be absolutely terrible at fighting mobs, but you could at least build, and it felt nice that they weren’t totally disregarding that. Even if Wonwoo was the only one who would help you when you inevitably had to face the mobs. 

“Yn, are you still in the base?” Wonwoo asks. When you say yes, he asks you to meet him in the main entrance. 

You find him waiting, feeling inferior in your iron armor. He tosses you something. When you pick it up, you find out it’s an enchanted pickaxe, complete with unbreaking, mending, and fortune. 

“I figured it might be easier to work on this if you have, like, actually good tools.” 

“Thank you?” You can’t say you’re not surprised by Wonwoo’s generosity. You don’t know him very well. He’s Mingyu’s friend, and though you’ve hung out with all five of the guys many times this semester, he tended to be quieter and you weren’t convinced he didn’t hate you. Still, he was the only one on the server that didn’t bully you. 

“When did you get enchants,” you ask as you both go your separate ways. It’s finally daytime outside, so you deem it safe to continue working on the farm you were trying to design along the edge of the base. 

“It was pretty easy once I finished the villager farm,” he says. “Though I haven’t gotten around to reviving villagers to get cheap enchants. It’s on the list.” 

You frown as you climb the side of the mountain halfway up and continue designing what would hopefully be a sprawling pumpkin patch. “How did you have the time for that?” 

“I haven’t exactly logged off,” he says. 

“We started the server two days ago!” 

“It’s fall break,” he says. “I didn’t want to waste my time.” 

“I fear you.” 

“Hey, you guys are aware there are other people in this voice chat, right?” Mingyu says. 

“Shut up,” you say. 

“Get a room,” he says, pretending to cough. 

You can feel the blush spreading across your cheeks. It wasn’t that you had a crush on Wonwoo. He was just tall, and objectively attractive, and really nice, and smart, and he had saved your life more than once. Okay, maybe it was a small crush. 

“Can we set a time to kill the ender dragon,” Seungcheol asks. “I’m getting blaze rods right now.” 

“Okay, I think I have enough ender pearls,” Wonwoo says. “Want to try tonight?” 

“You are aware it’s already almost nine, right?” You say. 

“It’ll take like two minutes with all of us,” Jihoon says. 

“I’ll text Jeonghan and see if he wants to join,” Mingyu says. 

“I’m guessing no one cares that I’m not ready at all,” you grumble. 

“It’s not our fault you care more about picking flowers than playing the game,” Seungcheol says. 

“Hey! I have not been playing with flowers! I am an integral part of this server, if it weren’t for me you all would be living in dirt shacks!” 

“Yeah, but we’d still have diamond armor,” Jihoon says. 

“Why don’t you just ask Wonwoo for some armor.” Mingyu snickers. “I’m sure he can afford to support you.” 

You’re glad that it’s just a voice chat because otherwise you’d never hear the end of their teasing. 

“I do have an extra set of armor,” Wonwoo says. “Also, I have a ton of leftover books from enchanting that you guys should use.” 

“Maybe you have spent too much time on this,” Mingyu says. 

“What am I supposed to do?” 

“You’re an English major,” Mingyu says. “Don’t you have an essay or some books to read?” 

He laughs. “If you can find an English major that actually reads, I’ll log off.” 

“Do not log off until we’ve beaten the dragon!” Seungcheol says. 

“We could do it without him,” Mingyu says. 

“Sure you could,” Wonwoo says. “Yn, are you getting the armor or not?” 

You’ve been working on the farm outside, but as the sun starts to set, you begin to go back inside the base, not wanting a repeat of the previous night. “I’ll just die if I go with. Can’t I just stay and work on the base?” 

“Nope, you have to come,” Mingyu says. “Server rules.” 

“You can’t just make up rules on the spot,” you say. 

“ Jeonghan is coming, so no excuses.” 

You groan, knowing there’s no way out of it now. Jeonghan had joined exactly once, decided he was bored because Jihoon wouldn’t make him a “god” and hadn’t been on since. But it seemed like Mingyu was going to dictate friendship rules through Minecraft, so you were stuck. 

“Here,” Wonwoo says, appearing in the halfway-finished room that you made for yourself. He tosses you a full set of armor, and when you pick it up you find that it has full enchants. He must not have been lying about spending his entire break on this game. 

“I owe you!” You say. “Pretty much all I own is cobblestone and seeds but I will return this armor with only, like, minimal damage.” 

“Unless you fall into the void,” Seungcheol said. 

“Don’t even joke about that!” You say. 

Wonwoo laughs, his deep voice almost melodic. “You’re just scared because it’s a very real possibility.” 

“Not you bullying me, too,” you say, switching out the armor. “I thought you were on my side.” 

“I am,” he says. “And honestly if you really do fall into the void it’s fine, I can make a new set in probably ten minutes. Probably less.” 

“Can we make a rule about flirting in the main voice chat?” Seungcheol asks. 

“Fine, Wonwoo, join me in VC-2,” you say. Your heart is pounding a little as you pause the game and switch voice chats. It’s painfully quiet for two seconds as you wait but finally you hear the ding of someone joining you. 

“I’ll pay you real money to kill Seungcheol,” you say. 

Wonwoo is quiet for a moment. “Right now?” 

“Okay my bank account is a little empty, but next week I can buy you lunch?” You say. 

“Are you… hiring me as a hitman?” He asks. 

“Yes?” 

“Two lunches and it’s a deal.” 

“Done.” 

You switch back to the main voice chat, and hear the second half of Mingyu explaining that there is no way you are bold enough to actually be flirting. You hate that he’s right. 

“Back so soon?” Mingyu asks, cutting himself off mid-sentence. “Seungcheol, you owe me five dollars.” 

“I really just live in your head rent free, huh?” You say. “Making bets on me now?” 

“Actually, the bet was about the enchants that Wonwoo just gave me,” Mingyu says. “None of us believed you were actually flirting, but feel free to keep that inflated ego of yours.” 

You wonder if you’re going to be able to stop embarrassing yourself in front of Wonwoo. With Mingyu and Seungcheol around, probably not. 

The voice chat is mostly quiet as everyone goes to their own individual tasks. You are back to developing the farm (during the day). Jihoon and Mingyu are mining together and chatting about their spring schedule, while Seungcheol says he’s still getting blaze rods because he wants to make potions. Wonwoo is silent. 

You are starting to think he was giving up, when suddenly Seungcheol shouts. “Hey, what the hell?” 

“What’s wrong?” Wonwoo asks. 

“Something is shooting me.” He curses. 

“A blaze?” You ask, hoping your voice doesn’t sound as giddy as you feel. 

“No, what the fuck, it’s coming out of nowhere.” 

You’re struggling to stifle your laughter. 

“Oh my god, I’m gonna die,” Seungcheol says. “I’m actually gonna die what the fuck, I’m at two hearts, where is this coming from? I’m actually dying, I-”

kkakkamori was killed by VvWonwoovV. 

“What the fuck, Wonwoo?” 

“Nothing personal,” he says as you finally burst into laughter. “Just doing business.”

“You just killed me!” 

“I got your stuff,” he says. 

“Keep talking shit about me and I’ll make sure you never see a day of peace,” you say, cackling at Seungcheol’s curses. You can hear Mingyu and Jihoon laughing, too. You wonder how many lunches it would cost to take them out. 

“I won’t forget this,” Seungcheol says. “I’ll get revenge.” 

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Wonwoo says. 

“I can’t believe you killed me,” he says again. “Were you invis?” 

“Yeah, I used some arrows of harming and spectral arrows, too, just in case.” 

“Dude, you killed me in like five shots.” 

“Okay, Wonwoo is no longer allowed to be hired as a hitman,” Mingyu announces. “It’s not fair.” 

“Hey! Can’t I choose how to sell my services?” Wonwoo asks. 

“Was it worth betraying me?” Seungcheol pretends to be hurt. “How much did my life cost?” 

“Two sandwiches,” you answer. 

“I’ll never forgive you.” 

You laugh, and then smile even more when you see Wonwoo has texted you a smiley face. 

Me: Good job, partner, you send him. 

Wonwoo: Just doing good business. 

You turn back to your computer. There’s still another hour until Jeonghan could get on to beat the ender dragon, and it occurs to you that you’ve been playing for nearly four hours. You tell the guys you are going to come back later, signing off and getting out of your chair and stretching. 

You check your phone as it dings. 

Wonwoo: don’t forget to refill your water! 

You frown. You must have mentioned it to him while playing. You grab your water bottle, trying not to overthink the fact that he remembered when even you forgot. The more time you spend around Wonwoo, the harder it is to deny how lovely he is. 

.

.

You stare at the options. You wish Wonwoo hadn’t trusted you to get him something, or that you could have remembered to ask him what he likes, at least what he dislikes. 

You finally choose a BLT and a chicken sandwich and pray he isn’t vegetarian. You scout a table out and snag it, laying your backpack across the seats opposite you to save them. A few minutes later, you see Wonwoo making his way through the crowd of people filling up the dining hall. As he gets closer, you see Jeonghan and Jihoon at his sides. You tell yourself you didn’t notice them because Wonwoo is so much taller. No other reason. 

You wave them over, grabbing your backpack as they slide into the seats, Jeonghan next to you while Wonwoo sat directly across from you. You point to the sandwiches. He frowns but ends up picking the chicken sandwich. 

You slap Jeonghan’s hand away from the BLT. “That’s my lunch!” 

“Why does Wonwoo get one, then?” 

“It’s his payment,” you say, picking up your sandwich. 

“You’re telling me Seungcheol hasn’t whined about his murder to you yet?” Jihoon asks. 

“You know, I sort of tune him out when he starts talking about Minecraft,” Jeonghan says. 

“He is being a little dramatic about it,” you say. 

“You can’t say anything, you're the one that ordered a hit on him,” Jihoon said. “I’d watch your back.” 

“It’s a video game!” You say. 

“You know Seungcheol,” Jeonghan says. “He can hold a grudge when he wants to.” 

Seungcheol and Jeonghan were your first friends in college. Technically you went to high school with them, but you didn’t really become friends until last year, when the three of you somehow ended up at the same school. 

That’s how you know Jeonghan was exactly right. You glance around, suddenly worried that he was going to appear and exact his revenge in the middle of the dining hall. 

“Was it worth it?” Jeonghan asks Wonwoo, who is somehow almost finished with the sandwich. 

Wonwoo shrugs. “I’m not going to lie, the sandwich was a little subpar.” He checks his watch, then nudges you with his foot. “We’re going to be late to lab.” 

You groan. “Why did we let Mingyu convince us to take this horrible class with him?” 

He laughs as you stand up and follow him, grabbing your half eaten sandwich and waving goodbye to Jihoon and Jeonghan. As you walk beside him, you realize this is the first time you’ve been alone with him since you realized your tiny crush. Trying to match pace with his long stride is even more difficult when you are also trying very hard not to think about the way his arms hang on his sides, the way his hands are so close to yours and how easy it would be to slip your fingers in with his. Luckily he seems to notice you struggling to keep up because he starts taking smaller steps. So sweet. 

“So was the sandwich really that bad?” You ask. 

“It’s campus food,” he says. “It’s never good.” 

“That’s true.” 

He glances at you, glasses glinting in the sunlight. “I’m not sure I can really count it as payment.” 

You freeze. “This is extortion! I’ve paid you for your services, you can’t demand more!” 

“I don’t think that’s what extortion means.” He says. “And I’m not saying the sandwich doesn’t count. Just, maybe, a better second payment.” 

“You’re going to make me go broke,” you say. “Well, more broke.” 

He laughs. “Nothing expensive.” He holds the door to the science building open for you and you try not to read into it. 

“What about the café? It’s better than the dining hall,” you say, heading into the stairwell. You catch a glimpse of a grimace across his face as you turn up the stairs. “What is it?” 

“Jihoon’s ex works there and apparently being friends with him means that I’m hated too.” 

You snort. 

“What is it?” 

“I can’t believe Jihoon dated before I did.” 

“It surprises us all,” Wonwoo says. “Though I’d barely call it dating. They broke up after a week because Jihoon is Jihoon and realized his feelings were just superficial and no one really takes it well but his ex… It’s safe to say we mostly just avoid the café on principle.” 

“Noted,” you say. You’re in the hallway outside the classroom now. You really don’t want to go inside, because, seriously, why do three hour long classes exist? Chatting with Wonwoo was an added bonus to avoiding the torture. You idle outside a couple minutes longer but you really are in danger of being late and Wonwoo is starting to look antsy. 

You finally step inside, waving at Mingyu who is already sitting at the table. He’s grinning, as he always is. 

Mingyu was the reason you really had friends. Though you knew Seungcheol and Jeonghan in high school, it was only because of Mingyu that the friendship lasted past your first semester, hanging out with them throughout the spring semester, keeping in touch with them over the summer, and even taking a class with Mingyu. 

Mingyu is the reason you ever met Wonwoo, and, sitting in class and definitely paying attention to the lab introduction and not staring at the back of Wonwoo’s head, you can’t decide if that’s a good thing or not. 

.

.

You can’t remember who suggested it first, but it was Jihoon who ended up making the server, the first day of fall break. It practically belonged to Wonwoo now, since he was by far the person that played the most. You have no idea how he finds the time to play and do his work and sleep, but every time you log on, he has something shiny and new. 

It has been two weeks since the server started. You spent too much of fall break playing and generally leeching off of Wonwoo, but have only logged on a couple times since then. It’s Friday, though, and you even did one of your readings, so you feel like you can afford to spend a few hours working on the base. You aren’t surprised when you log in and Wonwoo is on. 

You’re prepared to play on your own, but Wonwoo asks if you want to join a voice chat and there’s no way you’ll say no. 

“It’s been so lonely,” Wonwoo says as soon as you join. “No one ever plays.” 

“It’s like we’re college students,” you say. You wander around the base, deciding you would keep working on designing the interior with the new types of wood that someone “anonymously” gifted you (you knew it was Wonwoo). 

“The trick is to not do anything until the last possible second,” Wonwoo says. 

“I can’t say that sounds appealing to me,” you say. “What are you doing right now, anyways?” 

“Just prepping for my next project,” Wonwoo says. 

“That sounds vaguely suspicious, should I be concerned?” 

He’s quiet for a moment. Finally, he asks in a low voice, “Can you keep a secret?” 

His voice is just serious enough that you can’t tell if he’s joking or not. “Is this real life or in game?” 

Wonwoo laughs. “This is in game, though I guess the question technically applies to both.” 

“Well, no one knows about the Incident, so at least Mingyu would say yes.” 

“He made a fool of himself, didn’t he?” 

“I’m sworn to secrecy.” 

You decide if making Wonwoo laugh was all you did for the rest of your life it would be worth it. Something about the way his deep voice echoed in your ears made your heart skip a beat. 

“Okay, come to Seungcheol’s base,” he says. 

“The secret one?” You start heading there when Wonwoo says yes. The second day, Seungcheol decided he wanted to have a secret base, which meant in two minutes everyone had figured out where it was. 

At least, where it used to exist. When you get there, Wonwoo is standing around the blown up remains of the Seungcheol’s base, a giant crater created by TNT in the middle of a flower field. 

“What happened?” 

“Jeonghan,” Wonwoo says. 

“You know what, that actually makes sense,” you say. “Didn’t he say he’d only join if Jihoon let him play in creative?” 

“Yeah, that was not happening,” he says. 

“Is Seungcheol’s stuff still there?” You wander around the crater, seeing the remains of what Seungcheol had built, a few chests that remained. 

“I can’t tell,” Wonwoo says. “I’m not really sure what he had to begin with or whether Jeonghan bothered to save his stuff, but the chests that survived seem to be pretty organized.” 

“Wait, I still don’t get how he blew up Seungcheol’s house.” You emerge from the hole, standing at its edge beside Wonwoo’s character. 

“That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out,” he says. “I’ve been on this server, like, almost twenty four-seven and I haven’t even seen him on, so I really have no idea how or when he did it.” 

“Someone must have helped him,” you say. “Oh my god, there’s an entire conspiracy. We have to get to the bottom of this!” 

“Conspiracy?” 

“It’s obviously not Seungcheol,” you say. “He’s going to be so mad when he comes back on.” The sun is starting to set. “Can we sleep through the night? I really don’t want to hide for the next ten minutes.” 

“Sure,” he says. You return to the base with him, mind still racing trying to figure out who was enabling Jeonghan. 

“Obviously it’s not your or me, so that leaves Jihoon and Mingyu.” You think about your two friends. You could see Mingyu doing it, because he was bullied by Seungcheol at least once a day, but usually Jeonghan was also involved, and you know Mingyu’s too busy being a STEM major to really dedicate his time to the game. 

So Jihoon? You don’t think he has much motivation, but he has been playing a lot and maybe he had some unknown score to settle with Seungcheol. 

“We should set up a stakeout or something,” you say. “Figure out who his supplier is.” The iron door swings shut behind you as you and Wonwoo return to the base. 

“A stakeout might be kind of intense,” Wonwoo says. 

“Okay, less of a stakeout and more of ‘you keep playing all day every day and find out if anyone is suspicious’ kind of thing.” 

“This sounds like I’m going to be doing all the work.” 

“Do you not spend most of your time here anyways?” You say. You go into your room and lay in your bed. “Bed!” 

“Okay true,” Wonwoo says as the screen fades. “But I actually have an essay due tomorrow and next week so I can’t really be on as much.” 

“Wonwoo? Being responsible?” You pretend to be shocked but when he laughs and your heart pounds so loud you forget that you were teasing him. 

“So how do we find out who’s helping him?” You ask. “It seems like we don’t have many options.” With the sun back in the sky, you decide you want to work on a tree farm with the generous saplings that had been donated to you. 

“We'll investigate together,” Wonwoo says. “Maybe next time Mingyu or Jihoon will leave evidence.” 

You nod in approval, though he can’t see you. “Sounds good. I’m going to grind resources for a little while if you want to go back to whatever you were doing.” He’s quiet as you both play, the silence between you not awkward but strangely peaceful. He doesn’t complain when you ask him to sleep every night, even reminding you to get back before the sun sets. 

Though you know he’s not nearly as invested as you are, it’s also fun to be in on a conspiracy with him. Maybe it’s just the fact that you have a secret between the two of you, but it makes you feel a tiny bit closer to him. You are finding that everything you learn about him just makes you like him more. 

.

.

“Should I be worried about how much time you’re playing on this server?” You ask as soon as you join the server. 

“No time for that!” Wonwoo says. “I’ve been hit!” 

“No way!” You sprint to his section of the base, and indeed, it’s been blown up. Wonwoo had spent hours personalizing what had initially just been a hole in the wall, designing a bunch of rooms with resources from the nether and the end and creating redstone machines that you didn’t even try to comprehend. 

Most of that is gone now, a crater even larger than the remains of Seungcheol’s base. 

“Oh my god,” you say. “You’ve been nuked.” You join Wonwoo and Seungcheol at the sidelines. It’s been a week since the last attack, and Seungcheol has joined your party of justice. You’re a bit sad that it’s no longer something you had just between you and Wonwoo, but looking at the remains, you couldn’t deny you needed the help. 

You take a step forward and there’s an ominous click. 

“Yn, run!” Wonwoo shouts. You try to run but you panic, pressing the W instead of the S. You hear hissing and it only worsens your panic. 

The first explosion doesn’t kill you but it scares the crap out of you and you can’t help but scream. “Help, help, help!” 

“You’re running the wrong direction!” Seungcheol says. 

“Stop laughing at me!” You groan as you die in the third explosion. Seungcheol doesn’t stop laughing, but what pains you is you can hear Wonwoo chuckling, too. 

“I guess not all of the TNT was blown up,” Seungcheol says through his laughter. 

“Evidently,” you say. “I kind of hate this game.” You click on respawn, heading back to the remains of Wonwoo’s base. You stay as far back as possible. 

“I’m sorry,” Wonwoo says. You can tell he’s still trying not to laugh. Traitor. 

“It’s not your fault,” you say with a sigh. “Though Jeonghan better watch his back.” 

“I’m sure he’s really scared,” Seungcheol says. He wanders carefully around the interior but there doesn’t seem to be any more traps. 

“I have our high school yearbook from freshman year.” 

“Have I mentioned how much I like you? Really, you’re one of my favorite people, ever,” he says. 

“Very convincing,” you say. “Tell Jeonghan to watch his back.” 

“Are the pictures really that bad?” Wonwoo asks. 

You cackle. “I’ll send them to you.” 

“Wait, why does he get them?” Seungcheol whines. 

“We’re partners in… not crime,” you say. “Partners in solving crime? Justice?” 

“That doesn’t sound right but I want to see the pictures, so, whatever you say.” 

“Did you both forget I’m still here?” Seungcheol asks. “Third wheeling?” 

“You’re not a third wheel, you’re a part of the team, too!” You say. “Partnership plus Seungcheol.” 

“That’s literally a third wheel.” 

Wonwoo bursts into laughter. 

“Why am I even here?” Seungcheol sighs. He logs out of the game. “I’m going to do actual homework.” He leaves the voice chat. 

“Did we just annoy him into doing actual homework?” You ask. You are still standing in the wreckage of Wonwoo’s base as he tries to fix it. 

“I guess so,” Wonwoo says. “I don’t think we were actually excluding him or anything, were we?” 

“I didn’t think so,” you say. The problem was, when you talked to Wonwoo, you didn’t exactly pay attention to what you were saying to anyone else. Maybe you should work on that. 

“So, Mingyu or Jihoon?” You ask because it’s been quiet for too long. 

“What?” 

“Which one do you think did it? Or, helped Jeonghan, same difference.” 

“Oh, right,” Wonwoo says. “I’m still not sure, I didn’t notice anything suspicious about either of them.” 

“You aren’t the best at investigating, huh?” 

Wonwoo laughs. “No, I’m really not.” 

“I guess we could just interrogate them.” You wonder if you’re taking this too seriously, and maybe that’s why Wonwoo isn’t answering. “Or, I mean, it is your base that’s been blown up, so we don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to.” 

Wonwoo is quiet a second too long. 

“Sorry, I guess it’s really not that big of a deal,” you say. 

“It’s not that-”

“It’s okay, I just thought it was funny, I didn’t mean to take it so seriously.” 

“Yn-”

“I actually probably should go do some homework too.” You leave the voice chat as quickly as possible, logging out of the game immediately after. It was silly of you to think that Wonwoo wasn’t just entertaining you the entire time, but it still hurt to realize. 

You sigh and turn away from your computer, despite the fact that the homework was not just an excuse and you really did have a lot of it. You just didn’t feel very motivated, instead thinking of how you had to somehow face Wonwoo tomorrow and pretend like you didn’t just get heartbroken over a video game. 

.

.

There’s a gentle poke to your cheek. “You can’t sleep here.” 

“Comfy,” you mumble, burying your face deeper into your arms. 

“Come on, wouldn’t you rather sleep in your own bed?” 

“Sleepy.” 

“Come on.” The hand on your shoulder is gentle, but relentless, shaking you until you finally blink awake, sitting up. You instantly feel sore, stretching the arm that had been your pillow. 

“How long was I out for?” You ask with a yawn. 

“I’m not really sure.” 

You freeze. You are 100% that when you fell asleep studying earlier you had been with Mingyu but that was definitely Wonwoo’s voice. You turn your head slowly, finding Wonwoo standing a couple steps behind you. Your heart does its usual gymnastic routine, though it’s worse because you’ve been awake for all of two seconds and Wonwoo looks picture perfect in his sweatshirt and perfectly combed hair. 

“What are you doing here?” You try to smooth your hair, praying there’s no red marks on your face. 

“Mingyu called because he had… actually he didn’t say what he had, he just said he had to go and that he didn’t want to wake you up, and he just told me to come here and study but the library closes in ten minutes, so we should probably go.” He folds his arm over his chest. 

“Right,” you say. You stand up and stretch a little more, still blinking sleep away. You hate finals week. You stuff your computer into your backpack and try to organize the papers around you. Wonwoo steps beside you, trying to help. 

“Is there an order to this?” He asks, trying to read your scribbled notes. 

“There was once, it doesn’t really matter now,” you say. “The exam is tomorrow and I think I’ve stared at those as much as I can.” He doesn’t say anything else as he helps you gather them and shove them into a folder, sticking it all into your backpack. You turn to leave but he stops you, pointing to the outlet. 

“Is that yours?” 

“Yes, oh my god.” You grab the charger from the wall, tossing it into your backpack. “Thank you, I would have cried if I lost that.” You do a final sweep of the room, not seeing anything else that’s yours. 

“Ready to go?” Wonwoo asks. You make the mistake of glancing at him, leaning against the doorframe with his backpack on his shoulders. He’s been so patient with you it doesn’t feel fair. 

You nod, following him out of the room and falling into step beside him. The sleep is finally starting to wear off, and you are beginning to feel awake. The library is beginning to clear out, though you’re surprised at how many people there still are. 

“How many tests do you have tomorrow?” Wonwoo asks. 

“Just the one.” You sigh as you walk down the steps. “It’s a major requirement but it’s so dumb, it’s not helpful at all.” 

“I’m just happy the science class is over,” he says. “No offense,” he adds quickly. “It was really fun to see you twice a week but I’m never letting Mingyu convince me to take a class with him again, that class was horrible.” 

You shudder, remembering the final. You can only pray that you passed the test. Your memory is so bad you almost miss Wonwoo’s half compliment. “We should celebrate being free!” You stop in your tracks, just before the exit. “Oh my god, I forgot!” 

“Did you leave something in the room?” He asks, turning to face you. 

“No!” You grab his sleeve. “I forgot to pay you!” 

He frowns. “For Seungcheol?” 

You nod. 

“That was just a joke,” he says with a laugh. He tugs your hand off of his arm, pulling you to the library doors. “I felt bad even taking the sandwich.” 

“I can’t believe I forgot!” You say, ignoring his dismissal. The December air is chilly as you step outside and you pull your jacket tighter around your shoulders. 

“You don’t actually owe me anything,” Wonwoo says. “Seriously, it was a joke.” 

“No, but I feel bad, I promised you I would do something for you and I completely forgot about it!” You stop him under a streetlight, laying a hand on his wrist.  Your breath makes little clouds in the air between you, dissipating quickly in the frigid air. Whatever you were going to say, you forget because Wonwoo is staring at you and he’s practically glowing in the bright light, and you are suddenly reminded of the day he tried to save your life. Knight in shining armor is the phrase that comes to your mind. 

Your heart is pounding as you stare at him, unable to look away. His dark eyes, magnified just a little by his thick glasses lenses, stare back at you. Though he’s only a couple of feet away from you, the distance feels like miles. 

His lips look a little chapped in the cold air, and you wonder what it would be like to step a little closer and press yours against his, whether they’d be rough or soft, whether he’d kiss you back. 

You clear your throat. “I’m sorry anyway.” You’re not sure why you say it, but you finally tear your eyes from his, dropping your hand from his arm when you remember it’s there. You wish you could hold his hand. You stumble back for a couple steps before finally convincing your feet to work. You’re vaguely aware of Wonwoo mumbling, “Don’t worry about it,” and falling into step next to you. 

He walks you to your car, neither of you daring to say anything after the strange moment. You’re struggling to think straight, especially with him still at your side. More than anything, you need your bed. 

“I’ll see you later,” he says when you open the door. You force yourself to smile and wave goodnight to him before getting into your car. You lay your head against the wheel, wondering why you can’t just pretend like these feelings don’t exist. 

There was no way Wonwoo didn’t think that was awkward, and you were now going to spend the rest of the night wondering just why you couldn’t stop staring at him when you should be studying for finals. 

Maybe you should just drop out. 

.

.

“It’s not what it looks like!” Wonwoo says. You join the voice chat before your game loads, but before you can say anything, he’s stammering. “I swear, it wasn’t supposed to happen like this!” 

“What are you talking about?” You say, but a second later your game loads and you have no words. When you left a couple days ago, you had been in the middle of your base, logging off after spending a couple hours perfecting the hallway design (the trick was to mix and match the different types of stone). 

It’s all gone now. You spawn in a crater of what you hand spent all your time on, barely recognizable amidst the remains. You see Wonwoo character appear and realize that the explosion had just happened, blocks littered around you. 

“Wonwoo,” you say slowly, trying to understand what was happening around you. Everything you had worked on, gone. 

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” he says again. 

You start to understand, though it doesn’t make sense. “It’s been you? All this time?” 

He says nothing, character in front of you as frozen as you feel inside. 

“I can explain,” he finally says. 

“No, I get it,” you say. “Actually it makes way more sense, you’re the only one who spends enough time to really supply him.” You try not to let the hurt show in your voice. It made perfect sense, really. What you didn’t understand is why he lied, why he played along with you when it was him all along. How many times had you talked to him about thinking it was Jihoon today, or Mingyu the next? You feel embarrassed, now, knowing how stupid you sounded. 

“Jeonghan wasn’t supposed to destroy everything,” he says softly. 

“Is that why you think I’m upset?” You’re not being fair, but you don’t particularly care right now. It shouldn't hurt, but it does. “Because my shit got blown up?” You log out of the game, staring at the discord chat. You and Wonwoo are the only ones online, which is good because you really don’t want anyone walking in on this conversation. 

“You spent the entire time on the server working on it,” he mumbles. 

You laugh. “I spent my entire time on the server hanging out with you,” you say. It’s good you're behind a screen because otherwise you would never have the confidence to do this, even if that made you a coward. “I really don’t care about Minecraft, Wonwoo. I like you.” 

It’s so quiet you can hear your heart pounding over your headphones. You’re frozen, unable to click out of the voice chat though you know the silence is your answer, and every second that he doesn’t say anything means is him trying to figure out how to say that your feelings are unrequited and you just ruined the friendship. 

Okay, completely ruined might be an exaggeration but it won’t ever be the same and it made you sick to your stomach that you had just blurted it out because you were butthurt about a dumb game. 

“Did you really just confess to me over discord?” Wonwoo says. It's always been impossible to decipher how he feels from his voice but you’re going crazy trying to figure out if he really doesn’t sound mad or it's just your wishful thinking. 

 “Um. I guess so?” 

He laughs, that stupid laugh that makes your heart flip in spite of the fact that you’re terrified. “I’m sorry, this is just the worst way to do this, you seriously couldn’t wait one more week?” 

“You really don’t have to make me feel any more stupid than I already do,” you say. 

“Oh my god, no, that’s not what I mean!” He says quickly. “Yn, I like you, too.” 

“Oh.” Oh. 

“I just didn’t think it was the best idea to tell you over discord,” he says. 

“Yeah, that would be really dumb,” you say, trying to get your brain to comprehend anything other than I like you, too. 

“If you waited literally one week, I would have told you in person,” he says. “I had a plan and everything. Actually, I had a plan to do it after finals but I sort of chickened out and then we both went back home and I had to reschedule, but I swear I was actually going to do it.” 

“Right,” you say. “Wait, what? I really have no idea what’s going on, I can’t believe you actually like me back.” 

“You’re an idiot,” he says. “How could I not?” 

You have no answer to that, realizing that any insecurity you tell him would be shot down. 

“I can’t believe this is how I told you,” Wonwoo says. 

“I can pretend I didn’t hear you?” 

You smile at his laugh, his voice sending a shock straight to your heart. “Or we could just meet up the second you’re back?”

“Like a date?”

“If that’s what you want,” he says. “It’s what I want, if I’m not being clear,” he adds quickly. 

You wonder if you’ll ever stop smiling. “Yeah, I definitely want.” Eventually your vocabulary will return. Hopefully. 

“So it’s a date?” Wonwoo asks. 

You open your mouth to answer but there’s a ding and someone else joins the voice chat. 

“Hey, perfect!” Jeonghan says. “Yn, I’m supposed to apologize for blowing up your base, that wasn’t supposed to happen. Actually, that’s what Wonwoo told me to say but honestly I’m really tired of listening to the both of you flirt without actually doing anything and I blew it up on purpose so that I can now say this: yn, Wonwoo likes you. Wonwoo, yn likes you. Have fun!” There’s another ding and he’s gone. 

“I don’t know if I’m more mad that he planned that or that it sort of worked,” Wonwoo says. 

“Yeah, he actually makes no sense,” you say. 

“And yet it worked,” Wonwoo says. You wish you could see the face he’s making now, wondering if he’s smiling like you are. 

“So, it’s a date?” He asks again.

Yes,” you say. “It’s a date.”

[wutheringskies]

everyone is like: if wei wuxian told everyone he gave his core to Jiang Cheng, all of this wouldn't have happened!

me: if he told jiang cheng, it would be WORSE.

consider these points:

Jiang Cheng was a newly appointed sect leader, hell-bent on revenge, finally surpassing others. He would emotionally break if he finds out it's all because of Wei Wuxian's core. He wouldn't want to lose it; but Wei Wuxian holding that over his head will make it terrible for him; rage, tantrums; in that war-time would have literally robbed him of his senses.

This is a war. If some people find out Wei Wuxian doesn't have a core, what's stopping the enemy from finding out? Even so, there would be people who wish to kill the ever-powerful son of a servant. The hundreds-hole curse could only succeed because Jin Zixun had low cultivation. Think of how many enemies (Wens, and the others) Wei Wuxian had. They don't dare curse him because 1) they believe he has superior cultivation and 2) if he comes for revenge with his stygian tiger seal and chenqing, it simply wouldn't be worth it. So, high risk and low reward. but in actuality, if someone did curse him, without a core to cleanse him, it would be fatal!

As the "son of a servant" and "wielder of immense power," his place in the cultivation world was already unstable. If they find out he doesn't even have a core, he cannot stay in the cultivation world! If he leaves, then there's no protection guaranteed for him from those who wish to claim his power anyway!

Literally, the only ones who would genuinely care would be Lan Wangji and Jiang Yanli. And what could they do? Lan Xichen would be sympathetic, but when has sympathy saved lives when there's no follow-up action? Nie Mingjue would commend his sacrifice, but will he save the Wens? Nope. Nobody would magically go like, "oh, let us help wei wuxian who doesn't have a core tragically."

Among the general public, would anyone look at it as anything other than a grand sacrifice for his superior? "Wei Wuxian is really loyal," and when he saves the Wens, it would go down the path of, "Can't believe he betrayed the Jiang Clan."

The only one who wished to know the why's and the how's and the reasoning behind it all was Lan Wangji. Lan Wangji, who would try his utter best; but Wei Wuxian himself was so powerful. Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan were powerful. Wen Qing and Wen Ning were also powerful. All the righteous people had tragic ends - if Lan Wangji was allowed to know, he would push harder at Wei Ying. But will Wei Ying accept it? Will he feel a certain disregard of respect? A lack of trust from Lan Wangji because they dont have the fundamentals down?How can it magically make things alright, when their issues go deeper than Wei Wuxian being on an "unorthodox path"? So, who's to say, even if Lan Wangji realized it all, somehow forced himself into Wei Wuxian's space when Wei Wuxian did not want it with some OOC syndrome, but even then what can he do? In the end, rather than just one, both would die. The odds are bad when it's 1 vs 3000, but is it much better if it's 2 vs 3000?

Wei Wuxian's arrogance protected the secret that would've signed him out of the war, out of the cultivation world. The fear people had for him protected him. Even after his death, they only noticed the annihilation of minor clans because "oh no yllz is here to take revenge!" If he acted weak and approachable and sad, just how few would hold true empathy compared to all the many that would see an opportunity to strike? Whoever wields power, speaks out, and is from an unproveleged background yet sitting among the gentry is already an outcast.

The only way he wouldn't have died were if he were someone who bowed to servitude, if he kept quiet, if he counted his losses and gains like Jin Guangyao. Will this harm me? Yes. So I cannot do it.

That's not Wei Wuxian.

"Let gains and losses remain uncommented upon." If the whole world wishes to kill innocents to satiate their own hatred then the whole world is wrong, and he won't stand up for it - whether or not, he has a romantic relationship with Lan Wangji early, or if he's actual siblings with the Jiangs (like actually adopted.)

Whether he wields a sword or his flute or nothing at all; whether he's loved or hated, he is bound to be resented by those who are hypocrites. The loss of his golden core won't shake them with empathy, but mockery not just towards him, but towards Jiang Wanyin as well.

"Congratulations, Jiang Cheng, for killing the man who killed your entire family (false, but you know) and was unrighteous!"

"But isn't the Jiang Clan only alive because of Wei Wuxian's core?"

"Jiang Wanyin is such a loser; he took his servant's core."

That would be a fucking literal nightmare. That is why, Wei Wuxian doesn't say a word or whine or cry. He probably thought he could wait until Jiang clan is in a better spot and tell only Jiang Cheng, but by then, he'd already been caught up in the Wen's situation.