#so much potential but never quite payed off yet

[thankyoutothefandoms]

2 minutes into big dragon and I'm already pining after the unfulfilled potential of all of jame and jet's previous character pairings... Someday, someday...

[fushigurro]

𝙋𝙊𝙎𝙏𝙈𝙊𝙍𝙏𝙀𝙈 / 𝙋𝙊𝙎𝙏𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙏𝙐𝙈. — 𝖯𝖠𝖱𝖳 𝖨

𝘕𝘌𝘟𝘛 𝘊𝘏𝘈𝘗𝘛𝘌𝘙 ･ 𝗠𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧 ･ 𝘛𝘈𝘎𝘓𝘐𝘚𝘛

𝗦𝗔𝗧𝗢𝗥𝗨 𝗚𝗢𝗝𝗢 𝗫 𝗚𝗡!𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥. ⌇ sfw, but minors dni (potential for nsfw continuations) / jjk manga spoilers / this is my version of "came back wrong" gojo inspired by recent events, but it turned out somewhat softer than i expected / what happens when satoru is brought back and suddenly finds himself deeply attached to you of all people?

yandere!gojo / he's also slightly higher-needs disabled coded… idk i tried to approach it as best as i could. it's an unfamiliar thing for reader and they're trying to process it / i very well may try to continue this because it is rotting my brain!! / 1.7k words

“Satoru… you need to eat.”

A full bowl of soup sits on the table before him untouched, his hands resting unoccupied in his lap and eyes trained on your figure as you circle around to stand near him. That piercing blue gaze is ridden with innocence, lips parted like those of a quizzical child, but they turn upwards into a pleased grin when you take a seat in the chair next to him.

You’d prepared a rather simple dish, something you figured might be easy for him to consume and digest given his… peculiar state, but Satoru apparently had yet to pay any interest to it. He instead sat obediently in his chair just as you had commanded several minutes ago, unable to initiate the task of feeding himself, for he was much more intrigued from afar by your every move as you tidied the kitchen. It was as though he couldn’t find the drive to function unless you were within an overwhelmingly short distance of him.

Satoru’s heart thumps now that you’re close, a burst of satisfaction rushing through his brain. Dopey yet stimulating chemicals. You are Pavlov’s ringing bell. 

He is reminiscent of a child picked up from school by their beloved parent, or a puppy being reunited with its owner after a day at the vet, overcome with joy and unable to properly contain it. He leans forward and presses his lips to your neck as though that is the appropriate response to his elation, the crossed wires in his brain telling him that this is the sort of affection that will please you and is therefore the sort of affection he most desperately wants to give.

His condition was difficult to understand, and you wouldn’t call yourself properly equipped to deal with it, but there was simply no other option but to try; Gojo wouldn’t let anyone else try, the horrible rattling in his skull consuming him when deprived of your presence for too long. Yuuta had described the look in his eyes as “frenzied and lost.” You were told that the infirmary still needed repairs.

Once he returned to this world, Satoru had been stripped down to his essence, bare bones, a creature of instinct, reduced to something quite simple yet difficult for the average person to understand. But you had to understand, or try at the very least. This was the new burden placed upon your shoulders; it was either soothe this new version of Satoru Gojo for the sake of the world, or find a way to send him back into the icy arms of death. You were often caught between which option sounded worse.

However, when met with the sweetest and most earnest of his smiles, your bones were frosted with guilt, and you regretted ever entertaining the idea of letting him go again.

You stumble over getting him to perform necessary tasks and be further than 5 feet away from you at any given time, because it seems that, upon his revival, Satoru equates you and only you with everything of importance in his life. It’s more than a little unnerving given the fact that you’d never so much as even kissed prior to the loss of him, and now his neurons only fire off every happy memory he’s ever had of you, every positive thing he’s ever felt, no matter how stifled. You are his entire world now, and he can’t even verbalize it, but as each day passes following his awakening, you’re starting to gather that much on your own. You can’t be frustrated for long, however, because his cheerfulness is contagious, his enthusiasm making you feel loved even if it is somewhat smothering.

Is this selfish of you? 

The man's lips travel slowly across your skin, pacified by your presence, your taste, and ignoring the grumble in his stomach. How does one differentiate the types of hunger? You don’t attempt to fight him off, but rather exhale a defeated sigh in response. It hasn’t been long since you’ve been tasked with this responsibility, but it feels as though you’re frequently fighting a losing battle and failing him all the same. It’s so peculiar, so very unnatural… but still, you have to try.

“Satoru, please…” you beg, voice light in his ear and a hand settling at his nape. His nerve endings come alive every time his name leaves your lips. The bell. “Just one bite? For me?”

That seems to do the trick, as you’ve gathered. Satoru pulls himself back, hyper-aware of the tone in your voice and suddenly willing to comply. He’s more than eager to accept the spoon into his mouth when you offer it, placing your fingers beneath his chin and carefully bringing the soup up to his lips. He swallows it with ease, the task literally more palatable now that you’ve reminded him of how badly you would like him to complete it. Anything for you.

“There,” you say, satisfied and offering a faint, exhausted smile. He grins widely in response and hums, no longer capable of words of his own, but his simple noise expresses his glee with efficacy. Satoru decides to punctuate it by pressing the tip of his nose to yours for good measure.

It feels wrong to enjoy these subtle moments of intimacy with someone who doesn’t appear to be in his right mind, but who are you to say whether he is or not? There’s still an agency he possesses, a heart full of emotions, and a mind teeming with thoughts that you wish you could be privy to. He might be different now, but part of you wants to say with certainty that the old Satoru is still here with you somehow—you can sense it. He chuckles at particular images that flash across the TV and still gets a kick out of teasing you to some degree. To diminish that seems like a disservice to him.

You’re unable to deprive him of the happiness your closeness provides nonetheless; in fact, it’s obviously rather dangerous for you to even try and do so. Satoru’s conscious recollections are filled primarily with you, but his body is still more or less the same as it always was—the vessel of his clan’s power, the strongest sorcerer on earth. You’re not sure to what extent he remembers how to control these abilities, but part of you doesn’t wish to find out. For now, you care for him, placate him, re-learn him. Nothing is certain about the situation other than the fact that he apparently needs you now more than ever.

Your eyes soften at the warmth he exudes, and you wonder if he really remembers who you even are—or were—to him. It’s not worth pondering over for now, however. He needs to eat.

“Another?” you ask, testing to see how willing he is to fulfill your wishes. Satoru often easily complies once you’ve expressed satisfaction in him doing so, but all of this is still so new and experimental; you never know when he might decide to switch gears.

However, still smiling, he nods, and you bring another spoonful of soup up to his lips for him to swallow. It pleases you to see him finally getting something into his stomach, and he can sense it, taking it upon himself to further your agenda and simultaneously realizing just how gratifying it is to fill his belly.

“Good,” you say, and he feels rewarded. He is crowned by your praise. Exalted. You take him to the greatest heights with the simplest of words.

You place the spoon back in the bowl and Satoru takes it in his grasp, feeding himself without quarrel while you observe. Most of his motor skills appear to be intact as far as you’ve seen despite the cognitive and behavioral changes, and if someone were to look upon him from afar, you’re fairly certain they would never know the difference. But you’re still trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together little by little, deciphering each bit of information and also determining just how deep his severe attachment to you really goes.

Why did it end up being you? Why do you suddenly seem to be the only thing that makes sense to him in this entire universe?

You can’t answer that, he can’t answer that, it’s just the way it is. Satoru doesn’t need to know why you nearly consume his every thought, he just knows that you make him happy, and that’s truly all that counts in his version of the world. He’ll chase it on instinct until death decides to take him again; he’ll tear down anything that stands in his or your way, for you alone are all that he thinks he has left to cling to. Never matter the others that show concern for him—they’re nice enough, earning a small smile or even the privilege to touch before he shakes them off and seeks you out again. It’s nothing personal. It’s simply pathological.

Leaning an elbow on the table, you turn the possibilities over in your mind as you silently watch him eat. A life has been restored, but yours has been turned upside down, and you have to figure out just exactly what you’re going to do about it. You suppose that taking baby steps ought to be the best way to make progress, but how do you make space for someone like this out of the blue? You’ll have to give it your best shot.

Satoru finishes drinking down the remaining broth of his soup, and you pose a question. “Would you like to go for a walk with me today?”

He sits the bowl down and looks over at you, eyes assessing your features and mind processing what you’ve asked. He hasn’t been out much in the days following his return, but you don’t see any reason to keep him cooped up inside if he happens to respond well to a casual outing with you. Taking him for a stroll outside seems like a decent way to test the waters.

Satoru smiles and nods, recalling memories of how your hair looked when touched by the wind. He’d be glad to accompany you outside if it meant he could see you glow in the sun, radiant and warm. The center of his universe.

“I think it’ll be nice,” you remark with a grin, an ounce or two of weight being lifted from your shoulders at the positive shift in outlook. Baby steps.

Reaching out to take your hand, Satoru squeezes it in his own to convey his agreement. It’s as if he’s trying to say, “everything is nice when I’m with you.”

[7ndipity]

How They Would Win Over Their Secret Crush

Ot7 x Reader

Summary: How they would try to charm or catch their crush’s attention. Part of the 'Secret Crush' reaction series.

Warnings: swearing, not proofread

A/N: Thanks to the lovely anon who requested this! This ended up being slightly different than what you asked, but I hope you still like it!

Masterlist

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Jin:

He honestly just keeps doing what he’s been doing? Like, all the nice little things he does ‘as a friend’ are now cranked up by like 5(we’re not going up to 10, he’s not confessing yet).

Starts making more flirty comments and jokes-but-not-jokes about how y’all look like a couple or smth, just to try and kinda plant the idea of the two of you dating for your consideration.

His approach really depends on what you’re into, like if you’re into the more classical romantic gestures, he’s suddenly showing up to your hangouts with flowers, “just cause”. He wants you to notice that he’s making an effort to treat you specially and make you happy.

Yoongi:

He’s kinda dug himself a hole, bc he’s so used to making excuses for why he was giving you special treatment that you’ve sorta just accepted it and don’t even question when he does things that aren’t quite friend-ish(I can hear him being just like “fml”🤦)

To counter his previous statements, he tries to be more pointed with things like skinship to get you to look at him like "?", but he won’t give excuses anymore. He’s just like “What? Are you uncomfortable?” “No?” “Great.” :]

Tries to spend extra time with you doing your favorite hobbies/pastimes(like when he talked about going fishing w Jin, even tho it’s not his thing), trying to show his interest in you and the things that you enjoy(and also so that you might start to associate him with that thing and how it makes you feel)

Hobi:

Honestly, as I said before, he’s such a naturally affectionate person, especially when it comes to you, so he might be at a slight loss on how to get you to look at him differently or in a potentially romantic light.

He kinda goes a little over the top with his gestures, forgetting that he was trying to be discreet, buying you little gifts, giving you petnames, etc. Basically just switches to ‘Boyfriend Hobi’ mode without saying anything, and leaving you kinda like “wtf?”

He becomes surprisingly clingy, bordering on jealous/possessive if he’s not careful. Like you even joke that he’s like your bodyguard whenever y’all go out together, which he lowkey puffs up at. He claims he’s just looking out for you, but you can tell that’s not the whole truth.

Namjoon:

He tries to spend as much time as possible with you(most likely following one of the times he kinda pulled away for a bit), inviting you to hang out at the studio, to work out together, to dinner, to his house.

The list of activities just keeps shifting further and further away from things ‘friends’ do together and closer towards more ‘couple-y’ things, like weekend trips to the beach or sleeping over at each other’s places.

He wants to try and subtly show you his more romantic sides and what it would be like to maybe date him, doing extra little things like giving you his jacket or opening/holding doors for you.

Jimin:

As I said before, he never exactly hid his feelings towards you, so his first move is making a point to drop the “as a friend” caveat he’s been trying so hard to instill in your relationship up till now.

He makes a point to pay you extra compliments, ramping up the skinship and flirting a little more obviously, buying you gifts/meals, etc. It’s basically all the same things that he was doing before, but there’s a distinct shift in his energy that gives off the feeling of ‘I like you, please fucking notice me!’

I feel like he would just start playing the hypothetical game with you, like “What would you do if a friend had a crush on you?” “Which friend?” “Idk, let’s say me.”/ “Where’s somewhere that you think would be a good first date?” just straight up asking for the handbook on how to win you over.

Taehyung:

He’s not exactly subtle bc he’s dropping compliments all over the place, but the thing that keeps him from being too obvious is that he kinda does this with everyone? But he definitely goes over and beyond for you, hyping you up constantly and refusing to let you speak badly about yourself over anything.

Becomes increasingly clingy and physically affectionate, and if you make any comments or question him about it, he’ll straight up just tell you “I missed you/ I like being around you.” He just doesn’t mention that it’s because he’s in love with you(yet).

He likes playing with the classic romance movie vibe(I always think Breakfast at Tiffany’s), taking you on random little ‘dates’, bringing you flowers when you’re down, etc to make you feel special.

Jungkook:

Subtlety really doesn’t fit his vibe tbh, so I think he’d just go all out, flirting with you super obviously, being extra affectionate and initiating skinship, treating you to little lunch/dinner dates hangouts.

Which honestly isn’t all that different from before, but like Jimin, there’s a notable energy shift from like “We’re just friends tho, nbd.” to “I am trying to woo you here, dammit!”

Pretty much becomes your giant, puppy-eyed assistant, following you around everywhere and just trying to help you as much as possible with everything, as if he’s trying to prove how nice he’d be to have around, like “See?! Such boyfriend vibes?!”

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @feminympho @captainorangegoose @k4ngelz

[nolita-fairytale]

did you ever end up writing the phone call blurb?? i am STRUGGLING to find it and im so desperate 😭😭😭

called you again (extended)

a/n: ok so i never got to writing the actual phone call that transpires between carmy and reader, that gets her to chicago in the first place. and if i recall correctly, @cool-girl-is-hot was also patiently awaiting this phone call. since i'm doing the follower celebration, what a perfect time for me to bring this back, @bunnywritesmarvel.

You answer the call before you can talk yourself out of it, immediately putting it on speaker. 

“Hi,” you say, your voice shaking a little. 

And it’s as if a fog clears, like you've been waiting to hear it for a long time.

“Hi,” he replies, his voice soft, yet hesitant.

You're met with a long silence on the end of the other line as the two of you dance around whatever it is Carmy called to say. There's a part of you that wants nothing more than to spill everything, lead the conversation like you always do, but after months of radio silence, you know you can't do that. If Carmy wants to reconnect, then he's got a whole of groveling to do considering he pretty much ghosted you since he moved back home.

"I uh. I heard," he finally says, in reference to your recent change of employment.

"Oh," you sound, your voice higher in pitch than you imagined it would be as you scramble to find a better word than 'oh.' "I... um. Yeah. My heart wasn't in it anymore."

What you want to say is, my heart moved to Chicago and forgot how his fucking phone works.

"Yeah," Carmy replies, and you can practically hear him pacing back and forth as he searches for something to say.

You share another silence, this one much more tense than the last, like a hot pot of water about to blow its lid off in pressure, as you wait for him to ask you something -- anything. How hard could it be?

How are you? What's been going on? Sorry I haven't called.

But he doesn't say anything of these things. Instead, when he finally speaks again, all he says is:

"So listen. I uh-, I got this guy. He’s- he’s self taught but he’s got a lot of potential,” Carmy explains, his delivery becoming more and more confident as he hides behind the work.

“He just needs a good teacher – someone to inspire him – give him some of the foundations he would’ve gotten in culinary school. I think uh, I think you'd like him.

So after four months of no contact he... needs something from you? You can't help the feelings of anger and disappointment that grow inside of you.

Was he upset that you quit the restaurant -- here to talk you into going back -- now that he needed a favor? A stage?

“Just for a week, maybe?" Carmy suggests, his voice going up at the end, almost as if it's a question.

"I can’t pay you much but uh, well we’ve got a little money, which is a whole other story, and I can talk to my brother-in-law. He can put you up somewhere… you know… if you want to. If that helps.” 

Oh.

He's asking you to come to Chicago.

While it feels like it changes things, you're still ambivalent and you certainly don't want to get your hopes up.

"Carmy..." you trail off on an exhale. "I don't know."

"Sure," Carmy nods, chewing on his lip, suddenly feeling extremely self conscious about asking you in the first place.

He wants to take it all back, tell you it was a stupid idea, and apologize for even saying something in the first place. But he doesn't. He can't. Because after working himself up to call you for the last few hours, there's no way he's going to back out now.

Let it rip, Bear.

"I uh... well, I understand. If can't-. Don't want to. Maybe I shouldn't've uh..." Carmy stammers through, the heat rising to his cheeks.

"It's just uh. Tim told me... you might be looking for some inspiration."

Right.

You pause before asking:

"Can I... Can I think about it?"

"Yeah. Yeah, of course. Sure," Carmy is quick to answer, because he really wants to make this okay for you.

For the both of you.

And because hearing your voice for the first time in four months feels better than he ever could've imagined.

"Okay. I'll uh... I'll think about it," you drag out, because you know you'll need some time to process this.

"Listen, I uh. I'm late to meet Liz. But I'll let you know. Either way."

"Yeah, okay. Okay," he answers, nodding eagerly.

"Okay," you reply, listening to Carmy bid you a soft spoken goodbye before ending the call.

"Holy shit," you hiss, putting your phone down on the table, your hand folded over your heart as you can feel it race.

Well, you've got quite the decision to make.

[yourheart-inmyhands]

Yesss I can finally request!!1!!!

Sorry I just wanted needed to know this 😔

Yan!Archons with a s/o who acts like a mother. Like with Zhongli, the s/o treats Xiao and Qiqi like their children. I feel like most of them would take advantage of it 💀💀

i'm pretty sure i've said it before but i don't particularly want kids but y'all give me awful baby fever D:<

Warning: this post contains yandere-themes, including delusional behaviors, uh honestly there isn't much in this one either, other potential topics. Please read at your own risk!

Yandere!Venti thinks it’s cute, seeing the way you interact with the little kids around town. Diona and Klee adore you, loving that you always bring them snacks and treat them with such kindness. It especially warms his heart because he knows how absent their real parents are so he doesn’t mind letting you out of the house more often for their sake. He also won’t deny the absolute baby fever it gives him, the sudden urge to have children of your own taking over his mind entirely. 

Venti couldn’t help the smile on his face as he watched you play around with the two girls. They had insisted you help them with their hair, them having messed it up after playing tag in the city. He couldn’t deny the sudden urge to have a child of your own, a sweet little thing that was the perfect mix of the two of you. Archons couldn’t have children with humans though, so for now he was content to watch you interact with the local Mondstat kids, dreaming of the day you could have your own.

Yandere!Zhongli would find you parenting Xiao and QiQi to be quite humorous. He had spent many years trying to parent the angsty boy himself and yet you made much faster progress in a month. QiQi could also be quite the challenge and yet you had the patience of an Archon themself with her. A true gift to him and both the kids.

Zhongli watched as you scolded Xiao for getting hurt again, leaving QiQi to find him and bring him back to BuBu Pharmacy. It was quite funny to see the boy get so flustered, hands fiddling with his polearm. Zhongli had gotten on the boy's case many times about this and he never seemed to take it to heart, but you had a different effect on the male. Even QiQi seemed to naturally trust your judgment despite her forgetful nature. It warmed Zhongli’s heart to see you getting along so well with the two, loving her naturally you seemed to fall into the parental role. 

Yandere!Raiden doesn’t see any use in children, after everything with Kunikuzushi she simply has no desire to be in the parental role. She also believes it to be unnecessary for you as the two of you will never have children together. Despite this she will still allow you to interact with the local children, namely Sayu.

Raiden sighed as she saw you playing with the young girl in the courtyard, a lighthearted game of tag being played amongst the two of you. Sayu often came here to hide out from Kano Nana, enjoying the sunlight naps that you two would take or the fun, simple games you’d play. Tag was her favorite but she was also fond of hide and seek as well as eye spy. While Raiden would never outright tell you that she disapproved, she’d never join you either, making it known her opinion from across the way. Her subtle glare and cold shoulder all the proof you need. 

Yandere!Furina doesn’t like kids, she thinks that she should be the only one to get your undivided attention and that she’s plenty fun and entertaining. Why do you want to hang out with kids when she's already baby?

An annoyed huff left Furina’s as you continued to interact with the Melusines. You two were supposed to be out on a date together, not hanging out with the Melusines. It was Neuvillette’s job to look after them, not yours! You should be paying attention to her, giving her your love and time and focusing on what she has to say. She’s certainly going to throw a fit if it continues, and even more so if you just try to brush it off. You are Furina’s partner and you should be giving her all your love.

[bethanydelleman]

There’s a new book out called The Darcy Myth that says in the summary that P&P is actually a “horror novel” about how scary love is for women… I know the Bennet sisters’ situation is precarious but to call it a “horror novel” ? :P

Okay... so... ug.... did this woman even read Pride & Prejudice? Because from the news coverage I would say no. Let me highlight some passages from the article:

Darcy should be considered the main antagonist of the famous love story

Not Wickham? Not the man who runs off with literal teenage girls?

Darcy pays Wickham to marry Lydia, saving her reputation, and later tells Elizabeth, “I thought only of you” when acting. For Feder, this phrase is proof of the hero’s self-interest. Darcy condemns Lydia to a life with an amoral man, all so the Bennets don’t become so disreputable that he won’t be able to marry the woman he loves.

Um, sorry, but no. Darcy tried to get Lydia away FIRST, she refused, he respected Lydia's autonomy as a human being. Becoming brother-in-law to Wickham was probably worse for Darcy personally than Lydia being "ruined"

I found Feder’s exploration of “Pride and Prejudice”as a Gothic novel — rather than a comedy of manners — far more compelling than her critique of Darcy.

Wut? No. Not even a little bit, what? That is a different genre.

“Darcy helped codify the dominant expectation that potential romantic partners — especially heterosexual men — are not only still eligible but in fact more appealing when they play a little hard to get, even if playing hard to get involves cruelty, insults, expressions of disinterest, ruining your beloved sister’s chances of happiness, and other red flags,” she writes. Women spend their time, energy and emotions on men who, quite simply, are not worth their effort.

Okay, except ELIZABETH NEVER TRIES ANYTHING WITH DARCY. She just sits there and he falls in love with her. If she did put effort into any relationship it was with Wickham, who again, is presented as a massive red flag in the end. This line of argument is wild.

Yet, seeing the sheer number of times women pursue cruel men in pop culture laid out one after another — in Disney movies, Taylor Swift songs and much more — is affecting. Feder concludes convincingly that this cultural conviction harms women in the same way the patriarchal boundaries of the regency did. She writes: “If we zoom out, we see that the Darcy myth also helps to prop up and fortify a very Gothic, patriarchal universe that is, and always has been, scary for anyone who is not a very particular type of man. After all, if we are trained from childhood to invest ourselves in men who treat us poorly, aren’t we more likely to end up in abusive situations and under threat of assault?”

Okay, so this is a valid point, but it also is based on a misreading of Pride & Prejudice or is heavily influenced by adaptations. Darcy isn't cruel, he's snobby and somewhat rude but definitely NOT cruel. Wickham is exactly the type of man you want to avoid: charming until he isn't.

ALSO WHAT DISNEY PRINCE IS AN ASSHOLE??? @princesssarisa? Can you be offended at that one in my stead?

So... this book sounds like rage-bait insanity and I won't be reading it until proved otherwise. Putting it on the avoid shelf along with Secret Radical.

Last note: There is a valid point to be made that jerks or dark broody men have been romanticized, but Austen DOES NOT DO THAT. That is not an Austen thing. Use an actual problematic Gothic or Byronic hero.

[avatar-anna]

first time harry sees prof all dolled up maybe for a fancy date or something and is just lost for words. and then maybe prof gets a little hurt that he doesn't find her natural self that attractive but he explains that he was shocked?

First Date Jitters

The Professor Series

this takes place right after the series ends (after part V)!

*.*

Standing in front of the mirror of your Manhattan apartment, you weren't quite sure if you were satisfied with the reflection staring back at you.

"What do you think, Trajan?" you asked, looking over at your cat, who just stared back with a bored expression. Narrowing your eyes at the Emperor, you said, "I'll remember your lack of support in this moment, you know."

The cat just continued with his cool indifference, clearly not worried about your potential grudge. When you determined that your conversation with your cat was just toeing the line of insanity, you turned back to the mirror and sighed.

Objectively, you would say you looked fine. Your dress nipped your waist just so, and you liked the way the red string tieing the bodice contrasted the sweetness of the garment's pattern. It was sweet and romantic, but there was something mature about it too that couldn't be ignored.

The dress was fine, and the socks with the ruffled ankles matched perfectly, so that was a plus, but as you looked yourself over for the twenty-seventh time, you couldn't help but feel like your reflection was an imposter.

You'd had the dress for a few months now. It had called out to you on a rare shopping trip in SoHo, and you bought it on impulse. It hadn't left your closet since, but when Harry left your apartment the morning after you reconnected and said he wanted to take you on a proper date, you knew it was the perfect dress.

You watched mirror-you's frown deepen as you remained flummoxed by the situation at hand. You didn't think you looked bad, but something was just...

"Missing. It's missing something."

Style and fashion weren't things you didn't pay much attention to. You had a particular style that made you comfortable, a small circle of interesting but not out-there that you thought matched your personality quite nicely. You had your comfy sweaters with cute patterns, your corduroy pants and mismatched socks and the clips and headbands and colorful scrunchies you used to keep your hair out of your face so you weren't constantly annoyed by it.

But the dress just seemed out of place in all of that. You liked it enough not to take it off, but you needed something else to make it feel like it was actually you wearing the dress, not the other way around.

Not enough color, you soon realized. There was a pop of red from the laces, but other than that, you were just wearing white, something you rarely ever wore. You liked color, and decided that if you were going to confidently wear this dress, it needed a little more whimsy.

You rummaged through your things—shoes, shoelaces, earrings, colorful eyeshadow shades—searching for just the right element. It took about three minutes, but when you found a forgotten jewelry box stashed under some old files, you remembered what lay within.

In seconds, you were fastening the necklaces around your neck, knowing that Harry would arrive at your apartment any minute. As you struggled with the clasp, your mind flashed to all the times Harry had shown up on your doorstep in Cambridge, ready to talk about just about anything with you.

Things were so much easier then, you recalled. You never second-guessed your attire, never once wondered if Harry would notice that your shoelaces didn't match, or find your sweater with dancing mushrooms on it bizarre, or question the strand of beads that held your glasses like a necklace. Even now, you knew Harry wouldn't mind if you were dressed up or down, and yet you found yourself fretting over your appearance tonight anyway.

As you layered the last of your necklaces, a mix of colorful beads and stones with a gold heart-shaped locket at its center, you heard a knock on your door. "Shoot," you muttered, fingers slipping now that your nerves were kicking into full gear. Pausing your battle against the tiny brass clasp, you left your room to get the door, words tumbling out of your mouth before Harry could even make a sound.

"I'm not ready yet, I'm sorry. I got so caught up in going over the conversation topics I picked out that I forgot I actually had to physically get ready for tonight, which took much longer than it should have, and now I can't get this infernal necklace to clasp because my hands won't stop sweating, and every time I think about you or tonight my mind quite literally stops working for a minute and I forget what I'm doing. And all of that is to say that I'm not ready. Yet. I'm not ready yet."

Harry blinked as he processed everything you'd just said, and your face flushed because, really, did you have to reveal how nervous you were the nanosecond you opened the door?

"That...was all in one breath," he finally said. "I'm impressed."

Your whole face felt like it was on fire, but even though it had been a year since you'd spoken, you could tell that Harry wasn't teasing. He really was impressed.

"Do you mind helping me? With—With the necklace? I don't think I'll be able to get it, and it'll probably be easier if you just—Edward?"

Shoot, you thought. You hadn't meant to call him that. "Harry, I mean. Sorry. I don't know why I said that."

Even after messing up and correcting yourself, you still hadn't managed to garner his attention. Well, you had, he just wasn't looking at your face.

Harry's gaze was thorough as he took you in, his eyes lingering on your hips, then your chest, which was tastefully on display due to the cut of your dress. You felt his stare, almost as intensely as if he was actually touching you, though you knew that was quite literally impossible. But you still felt it, your stomach flipping around giddily as his gaze became heavy-lidded.

"Am I...dressed appropriately?" you couldn't help but ask, which seemed to get Harry's attention.

"Huh?"

"You never actually said what we'd be doing, and I read this article about the top nine date activities, and going to a restaurant was number one. Nine and ten were bike rides and amusement parks, but I took my chances. Hedged my bets, if you will."

God, did you sound like this all the time? You told yourself that you were rambling more than usual because of the added stress of going on your first-ever date with Harry and told yourself you would stop once you crossed the threshold of your door and officially started your date. But one quick look at Harry's tousled curls pushed to one side and the cozy sweater that made him look adorable and sexy—a winning combination if there ever was one—you knew you'd be tongue-tied for a while.

"You're perfect."

Your eyes widened, surprise and delight taking over your entire body. Smiling, you offered him a quiet thank you before asking him to clasp your necklace again, turning around before he could see the blush on your cheeks.

Harry's fingers were delicate as he draped the necklace over your collarbones and fastened the clasp into place. You could feel his shallow breaths on the back of your neck, leaving goosebumps on your skin and making your toes curl. You know you and Harry agreed on a proper date, which meant, you actually had to go on said date and not just skip to the end. But as the pads of his fingers began to glide across the exposed skin of your shoulder and down your arm, his lips puckering against the rapid beating of your pulse point, you wondered if you could just skip all that.

His hands came around your waist and felt along the front of your dress and squeezing appreciatively where he pleased. It made you feel molten inside, like clay that could only be shaped by his hands. You sagged against him a little, taking pleasure in his admiration of your body.

A breathy sigh escaped your lips as Harry continued to knead and squeeze and pinch, cold air biting at your neck as he dragged his lips across your skin.

Every thought, every topic of conversation you'd prepared, every worry you had, evaporated into thin air, like it never existed in the first place. You couldn't feel anything but serendipitous pleasure as you both indulged yourselves on feelings that had been locked deep in your hearts for perhaps far too long. There was logic that needed to be considered—your tornado-stricken room, the cats, the actual date itself—but logic and reason seemed to have retreated too far into your mind to grasp.

"The—The date," you managed to say, though Harry practically swallowed the words with a kiss, his nose nudging yours playfully before capturing your bottom lip with his teeth. You hissed, but leaned in closer so he could do it again.

Harry didn't answer for a moment, two moments, three, not in any rush to go anywhere but further into your apartment, do anything but suck your tongue into his mouth. You whimpered, struggling to hold it together both physically and mentally.

"You're exquisite," he murmured, like he hadn't even heard your measly attempt at bringing up the date you were supposed to be on.

Your heart raced at the compliment, but a seed of doubt flickered irritatingly in your mind. You willed it away, but it was as stubborn as a splinter in your hand or a piece of fuzz in your eye. You wouldn't be able to focus on anything else until it was gone.

"I—"

"Don't think for one second it's just the dress," Harr said calmly but firmly. You had no idea, but he could feel you tense at his compliment and knew exactly where your mind drifted. He knew you. "You came up with things to talk about on our date? Research before our date? Fucking hot, Professor."

You couldn't help but giggle, especially when the nips to your skin became more playful. "Don't tease."

"I'm not," Harry insisted. For the first time since this impromptu kissing-and-feeling took place in the middle of your apartment, Harry tipped your chin up so he could look you in the eye. You saw nothing but sincerity there, his lips swollen and a deeper shade of pink than usual as he grinned. "I told you before, Y/n. I find every little thing about you mesmerizing."

You knew it wasn't physically possible, but you felt like your heart swelled in your chest from just those words alone. Any minute doubts in your mind turned to dust right then. Harry knew you, knew all of your quirks and odd habits and tendencies and behaviors, but he never once faulted you for it or tried to change you.

Kissing him once on the cheek, you said, "I know the last four and a half minutes might have proven otherwise, but I really would like to go on our date."

Not a single flicker of disappointment crossed Harry's face at that. His eyes just crinkled as he released you from the circle of his arms, but not before kissing you one last time. "Me too. I have something pretty interesting planned and I would hate to let it go to waste."

"What did you have in mind?"

"A place called the Russian Tea Room," Harry said, offering you his arm once you'd straightened out your dress and fixed your hair, both of which had been thoroughly rucked up by him. "I figured a little Eastern European history with our date couldn't hurt."

You resisted the urge to jump on him right then and there.

For a whole year, you'd gone without talking to Harry. That came with its own slew of pain and regret and resentment, but above all of that, you really just missed his companionship. It wasn't that you just missed talking to someone in general about history and novels and astronomy, but you missed talking to him about all those things. And to think that he picked out a date that would capture the essence of your old "book club" sessions, it made you love him all the more.

Harry was just so...Harry. Because of course he would pick out something that would have educational value. You loved to learn and share knowledge, loved discussing history, and he loved to listen and engage with you like no one else ever bothered to before.

"We should probably call and tell them we might be late to our reservation," you said as you walked down the streets of New York toward the subway. You figured with all the time you spent fooling around in your apartment, you'd definitely be late for any reservations Harry made in advance.

"You might have to call," he said, sounding the slightest bit sheepish.

"Why?"

Harry grinned and patted his pockets. "I was so nervous about tonight that I left my phone at the hotel."

Unable to stop yourself, you snickered, leaning against Harry's arm to try and muffle the sound. "You? Nervous? I don't believe it."

"I'm serious!" he insisted. "I kept changing my clothes and my shoes, not realizing that I was running late to pick you up, and I just left. Without it."

You laughed, and Harry did too. It was comforting to know that Harry had been just as anxious about tonight as you'd been, to know that you scrambled his brain as much as he scrambled yours.

You kissed his arm, running your thumb up and down the thick knit of his cardigan. He felt so cozy, looked so handsome. It made you want to kiss his cheek until a dimple appeared and run your hands beneath his shirt at the same time.

But even so, the idea of a Russian-themed tea room was too intriguing to not talk about. There was too much to talk about, in fact. It would probably be for the best if you started on politics now so you could talk about the fun stuff like architecture and art styles when you got there.

When you asked Harry how much he knew about the Tsars and Tsarinas of Russia, he shrugged and said, "As much as the next person, I suppose. I did a little research beforehand so I could at least try to impress you, but go ahead. Tell me about it."

You squeezed his arm excitedly began, trying to decide on the best course of action. "Well, you see..."

[bkgpackets]

thebeautyliesinitsbriefness (wc: 1.8k)

Katsuki values strength, independence. He has never given crying a mere chance of coexisting in his headspace along with other less trivial affairs because tears don’t bring people back from the Earth. He won’t admit but he values optimism: to see the bright in the dark. Even he himself knew just how bleak of a person he was, a buzzkill and a party-pooper, in Ochako’s words. He wanted his crowd to be vehemently bright, he wanted them to have the ability to force him to see, and recognize the remaining half cup of water. 

You wince again, wound sterilisation was definitely your least favourite part about being a hero, nobody cared to warn you about this side of the job. The dabs on the open cut were quite aggressive, but you paid them no mind, not expecting any less from the second hero of Japan. 

Katsuki’s least favourite part to being a hero was needing to aid his comrades in wound irrigation. Nobody mentioned anything about going on missions together, much less taking care of each other. 

‘Tch, shut up, you can behead villains while looking into their eyes but not withstand ten seconds of stinging?’ 

You laughed, once again not taking offence to his rather belligerent diction— one of the reasons why you were sent to accompany Bakugou on this mission. Madam President, in good faith, believed in your potential, who also trusted Bakugou in bringing it out. She had also heard enough people talk about the way you were able to work well, or at least, better than others, with the fellow hero, so you were quite literally the only suitable option. 

With the cotton pad holding the gauze in place, your meticulous torture finally wrapped up, your ebullient Thank you! was met with dead air, as Bakugou had long left the room since the second he was done. 

With his back towards you, you can only presume the slight shake of his head to just be collateral of some things along the grumbled lines of ‘Stupid idiot..’

And you weren’t far off either. But, in lieu of cursing you with true malicious intention, he was in fact cursing at himself, for letting you, 'Stupid Idiot', crack his seamless façade of abrasivity:

His eyes widened with panic, what kind of reckless bastard would do that?! You had egregiously jumped in front of a few civilians that were shaken up by the villain you two were facing off. Stuck with fear, they stayed, and caused even more blood to be shredded. 

The sharp talons of the villain cut through your flesh like knives to tofu. The pain was evident on your face, brows crinkled, tears from your eyes threatening to spill. Your hand still gripped the handle of your weapon, making possibly the wisest decision you have made yet, you sliced the villain’s hand right off to prevent it from corroding your bones. 

Collapsing onto the dirt ground with a harsh thud, the civilians wept even harder out of guilt at the sight of your weak and damaged body, but you did so without a breath of complaint, for protecting the lives of idiots was your job. 

The villain, who regrew his hand with the help of his quirk, sat with an arrogant smirk in front of you, shamelessly meandering over your body, practically undressing you with his eyes. He would not know the absolute terror that was about to rain down on him until it was far too late. 

Diabolical beings. 

With an irate grunt, Bakugou switched to an offensive stance. In tandem, the crackling of his palm announced that he was an explosion ticking to blow. He let out a breath, along with all the pent up worry and frustration in him, a new found determination flashes across his countenance, the corners of his lips twitched. The way he held himself was different, filled with courage you had unknowingly given him. Motivation. His smirk was belligerent as always, eyes shining with something that would have made you blush if you were cognitive. 

Katsuki was going to make him pay; that villain would not see another sunrise after this, for protecting you, the utterly most insane and idiotic woman he ever had the pleasure of meeting, was his duty. 

Looking back, even his young and angry and ignorant self had known, long, that he had fallen in love. A mosaic of everything he had ever hated, you were. Yet somehow, you turned out to be something he liked. Loved. He was too young to know what love is, but not too young to know that it’s blood that’s rushing up his cheeks. Not too young to see the curvature of your smile and your nose and your stubborn brows to feel like summer will be forever. Not too young to know that life would be worse if he hadn’t met you. When he is not with you, he’s stifled and awkward and mean and, unable to tell you all of these things.

Everything about you was intoxicating. Bakugou wasn’t the one for mead; any sort of alcohol or drugs, in his opinion, only hindered how well he could do his job. But you, you were a toxin he could not live without. Sans you, he’d rather die. 

He wanted you. He wanted you so badly. Not in a dissolute way, you were too pure of an angel to mar (at least in his eyes).

He wanted you, in the sense that only he would be looked at by you in such a revered manner. And the spot in his heart was reserved for you, and you alone, a throne if you will. He wanted you, to him only. He wanted your eyes, your touch, your stupid rambles, all of it.

He was also a violent person, he knew his rough edges drew blood when people of delicate skin came too close. Skin who has never met slaughter, seen tragedy. Softness that has never come across the unjust of the world, the villainy. 

His legs were close to collapsing. He had lost count however many laps he ran. Sweat dripped along his forehead as he continued on his umpteenth round. He ran, and ran, and the sole purpose was to collapse. Maybe fill his body up with utmost dopamine shots, like he was high or something, so the unending doubtful questions in his mind would leave him alone. ‘Fill your body up with endless endorphins’ he kept chanting, like a mantra. 

Yet, he never knew he could have such gruesome and macabre thoughts when it concerned you. His hero costume was still stained with your blood, from when you laid dying in his arms, eyes glazed over and lips slightly agape, when All for One had stabbed you in the lung with a tendril. He had just lost All Might, he never thought he’d lose you, too. You were strong, you were persistent, a determined little shit who he had never thought would have to meet her end like this. He didn’t worry for you, and frankly it was why he stuck around you, he need not take care of you. Instead of being another burden on his already filled plate, you helped clear his silver platter; he knew if anyone would survive this, it would have been you, or so he thought. 

The tendril that took you from him was the one that was going to take him from you. You selfish minx, was what he grumbled to himself as your breaths got shallower, sounds of ripping fabric growing from soft to more difficult to ignore as your lungs collapsed in on themselves. You were running out of air, and running out of air fast. 

His salty tears left his face blotchy when they rained down on you like salvation. 

He didn’t know what would have been the proper and appropriate attire to show up in. You were only an equal to him, nothing more and nothing less. Neither of you had such time for nonsense when all of you were dedicated to heroics, when your job was keeping the hearts of thousands of civilians beating, pulse alive. 

He looked at the tombstone engraved with your name, your last legacy, until time calls for the moss and fern to come and erode the delicately carved words away. He wanted to grace the piece of rock with his brutally conditioned knuckles until the iron in his dignified blood, dosed with heavy nitroglycerin, left a permanent scar on your rusting heritage, so maybe then he wouldn’t need to question whether he was there or not.

The world is unfair, he has learnt since the ripe age of fourteen. Talented children with potent quirks born within the wealthiest of families will not know the stink of brothels and peril, men are made unequal, some are fed with silver spoons, and some quirkless. He has made peace with that, he thought. But he was wrong. 

He forgave the world when it stripped him of his comrades, his friends. He thought maybe it was the consequences of his wrongdoings in a past life, a lesson to be learnt; but when he lost you, Gods will have to kneel before the man if they ever think he’d forgive them for doing such a deed. 

He was then, once again, stripped of everything. It didn’t matter whether or not it was a punishment or a piece of Karma he rightfully deserved because he knew for a fact you would never be deserving of anything but love. 

Regardless of your past sins, he was sure you would have redeemed yourself with the way you introduced light into his life. You were good. Plainly, simply, and so utterly good. 

His fingertips grasp onto thin air as he cries, his fist cave on his own calloused palm instead of your tombstone. He finally lets his heart rip as he seemingly, for the first time in two months, recognizes that you are dead. 

His wailing won’t bring your battered bones back together from six feet under. His tears of grief will only water your tomb and foster whatever plant that wants to take home on your resting place. 

He lets out a few heartless laughs, at himself mostly— he has yet again ignored the wisdom God tried to bestow him with, such a rookie mistake has costed him you. Loving aloud never came easy to him as it did after death. The goodbyes, the ‘I’m sorry’s and the ‘I love you’ that stayed stuck in his pharynx never got to see the light of day before it was too late. Izuku. And now you as well; but what could he do? He’ll hold hands tighter, look at their faces longer, so he doesn't lose yet another person in his life from his stubborn, stubborn decisions. 

At first, he wanted to rage at you. At last somebody who had their naivety and innocence stolen and robbed away like he had been was allowed to hold his heart; intricate hands that have seen bloodshed, your breath heavy and warm from maroon responsibility. 

But he couldn’t. How could he?

[mazeinthemiroh]

guardian angel

Pairing: Seonghwa x female! reader

Genre: romance, angst, fluff, slight crack, highschool! au, bad boy! au, happy ending

Word count: 3.8k

Requested?: yes

Warnings: cursing, a lot of cliche themes, mentions of smoking and drinking, elements of crack, potential sexual assault (doesn't actually happen), suggestive, wooyoung being his awesome self

Summary: Seonghwa is known for being a delinquent. Nothing phases, and no one messes with him. But there is someone who he is drawn to. Someone he can't quite keep off his mind.

Author's Notes: I had so much fun writing this you have no idea. It took way longer to write than I wanted but I need it to be perfect. This fic does have some mature theme so do be warned! Thank you so much anon for requesting this. I really hope you all enjoy. Let me know what you think!! <3

The whole concept of having a guardian angel was comforting. intriguing, almost. Having someone watching over, protecting you, perhaps without you even knowing. That was a comforting thought.

Or at least for you it was. But in this compulsory religious studies class, most kids were seconds away from falling asleep. The teacher droned on with her monotone voice, flicking through the PowerPoint presentation, which looked like a half-hearted effort, put together last night.

Not that it mattered. No one was paying attention anyway, all except the handful of teens who wanted to get the best out of their mediocre education system.

"Silence please" the teacher mumbled weakly at the class. Poor Miss had no presence, no impact. The hard-working students, such as yourself, usually sitting in the front row, could usually hear her feeble voice. But they weren't the ones who needed to hear it.

"She said shut up!"

A voice with authority. Everyone collectively gasped, quick to close their lips now as they turned to face the principal, who walked in not moments ago. She was the one to be feared.

And yet there were still some people who just didn't fear her enough.

"You boys at the back" she snarled as she pointed over to the back of the classroom.

Ahh, the boys at the back. There's such a thing to be said about a high school's social hierarchy. It followed the same, cliche, stereotypical pattern as every American high school rom-com movie does. It is the same each time, each year. At the bottom: nerds, geeks, unconventionally attractive pupils, or just simply people who strive to succeed academically which for some reason makes you a loser. And at the top? Hot, rich mean girl gangs who absorb their power by thriving off the fear of the 'low-lives' below them. And, of course, the boys at the back.

"Why are you still talking? Did you not hear me the first time?"

One of them mumbled and snickered but it was hard to tell who. Or at least, for the principle it was.

It was quite clearly Wooyoung. Known for never knowing when to shut up, Wooyoung was the one to not understand when things went too far, or when a situation was too serious. And he was the one to get away with everything.

"Who's still talking?"

Wooyoung decides, the clown that he is, to turn to Seonghwa in this instance, with the usual shit-eating grin on his face, making it seem like Seonghwa was the accomplice.

"Was it you, pretty boy? To the front of the class now!"

Seonghwa glared daggers into Wooyoung as he reluctantly grabbed his stuff and got up to walk right to the front.

Even just walking through the class, you could see how much power Seonghwa would hold. Girls would giggle and swoon over him, whispering to each other about how good he looked today. Boys would cough awkwardly as he walked passed them, pretending not to be even remotely attracted to him. And the nerds at the front wouldn't even dare look at him. Especially you.

Which was typical because the only desk that was free at the front for him to sit at was the one directly next to yours.

So, as you screamed internally at yourself for not choosing another seat at the start of the year, Seonghwa settled down next to you, throwing his stuff on the desk and sitting back leisurely on his seat. he let out a long, dramatic sigh.

"Good. Now the rest of you need to get on, you will be tested on this!" Everyone let out a low groan at this, and then the principal promptly left without another word.

The usual rumble of conversation started up again. You stared downwards at the work in front of you, trying to concentrate on something, anything that wasn't the hot guy next to you.

"Hey."

Your heart stopped. Breath hitched up in your throat as you strangled on a previous inhale. Is he talking to me? You thought to yourself. Eyes wide with fear, anticipation, and excitement, you decided to do the unthinkable.

You turned towards him.

Never had it occurred to you that, not only was he talking to you, but he was looking at you too. So as you mustered up the courage to turn your head towards him, you were faced with two, large, deadly brown orbs staring at you, eating you alive by the intensity of his gaze. This was the closest he had been to you. And the bravest you had ever been to dare to take his features in this close. You couldn't help yourself. Eyes trailing along his smooth, tanned skin, jawline so sharp you were convinced you could cut yourself on it if you touch it. Jet black hair styled to frame his face so expertly; so precise was the wisps of his fringe, and although he kept brushing his hair back with his long fingers, the stubborn stray hairs would remain rested neatly on his forward. Perfect. Strong cheekbones, magnificently angled nose, luscious lips that hid a devious tongue.

And all this time you were staring at him. But by God did he stare back. Reality only hit you once you were done drinking in his features, savouring the human painting before you as if he was the last painting left on earth. You only blinked your eyes downwards once you were conscious and very much aware that your wide eyes and agape mouth had made his eyes sparkle with curiosity.

"Hi" was all you could muster. A feeble, pathetic excuse of a word that he could barely hear. He felt the corner of his lips pull up at your response.

"What are we actually supposed to be learning?"

You were surprised at his question. Did he actually wanna do the work? Or did he just want to talk to you? Or.. or... what was happening?? You blinked in response before clearing your throat.

"Well, today's lesson is about angels. You know, the different types of angels, and different religious interpretations of what they are like. Miss just finished talking about Guardian angels and-"

"Oh, I don't actually care sweetie," he chuckled lowly as you blushed ferociously at the sudden pet name. You suspected he was mocking you, but all the while his eyes held a warm curiosity as he continued to gaze at you. "I don't believe in angels or anything like that, tsk."

Perhaps he was passing the time. Making the lesson go faster for himself by making conversation. That's how you viewed it anyway.

"Why did you ask then?"

Your sudden boldness shocked you both, but you hid it well. His eyebrow quirked up with interest.

"I just wanted to that pretty voice of yours," he hummed, his tone a mixture of playful banter and flirtatious intent. It made your cheeks feel warm.

"Do you believe in any of this crap then?" He queried, suddenly looking away and taking a much more serious interest in his broken pencil, which he played with masterfully and with great skill between the fingers of his right hand.

You tried not to get defensive about his ignorant and outright rude attitude. Part felt that that's what he wanted. He wanted to lure you into a trap, an argument, and all just for his amusement.

"I like the idea of guardian angels," you paused to look away from him, your gaze sinking to your desk again, "having someone to watch over you like that... I don't know... the whole idea makes me feel less... less lonely."

That was your truth. This wasn't the first conversation you envisioned having with him. It felt a bit strange, a bit peculiar. Too deep too quick, especially with someone like him.

You expected him to scoff at this considering his previous remark. But you felt him gaze at you once more. He didn't tut, he didn't hum in response. He just turned away without another word.

That was the first time you interacted with Seonghwa. And you had a feeling, deep down, that it would be your last.

I mean, who were you kidding? You both guys ran in different circles. Had different lives, different friends, different... everything.

You knew this, and you knew this well. So why were you still thinking about him?

You felt he was undoubtedly out-of-your-league in all aspects. Looks, attitude, social status. Stuff that meant absolutely nothing to you but supposedly meant everything to everybody else. It was infuriating to tolerate these mindsets on a daily basis and yet you find yourself enduring and getting swallowed but the same expectations these mindsets create.

As you wallow in a stream of these thoughts you do not think for a second that the boy you now had eyes for - the delinquent who took a shine to you for reasons you could not explain - would be thinking about you in the same way.

But he was. And he hated it.

He wasn't a ladies' man like Wooyoung was. Wooyoung thrived when given attention from a pretty girl and he would do anything to impress them. Seonghwa was just not like that.

Rather, he preferred to flirt around, subtly. Throw a few winks here and there, biting his lip for too long as he made fleeting eye contact with as many girls as he could. He was quiet in his flirtatious endeavours, but he never really meant anything.

So he doesn't know why he starts feeling this way about you.

"What's the matter with you then?" Wooyoung nudged his friend, who seemed quieter than usual. The usual gang of boys met on the rooftop of the art building in their school. They would usually stay back well after hours, long until it gets dark. No one knew they were there, and jumping the gates was easy when they need to exit.

So that's where they were, vaping sloppily and drinking uncontrollably. The bottles of beers accumulated around the overflowing rubbish bin. It was surprising that no one caught on to their activities considering they were shamelessly loud, with zero fear of getting found out, perhaps because they got away with everything.

"Nothing, I'm fine," Seonghwa shrugged his friend off, staring down at the glass bottle in his hand.

Wooyoung isn't stupid. He knows when something isn't quite right. Better yet, he is persistent. Stubborn, even. Annoyingly determined to chip away at you until you crack. He gets what he wants.

"Must be some lucky girl for you to be thinking about her so much," Wooyoung teased as the rest joined in to chuckle. Seonghwa scowled at the boy, glaring at him in a way that would send chills to someone's heart. It was a shame that he was glaring at Wooyoung, who was simply brimming with audacity. Seonghwa knew better than to get into an argument with him, so he just kept quiet.

What Wooyoung said made him think though. Why was he thinking about you? Why you, specifically? His calculating eyes shifted from one object to another as he tried to pattern in his mind some sound reasoning.

Perhaps it was the way you looked at him. Well, other people stared at his face on a daily. He just looked so perfect. So absolutely stunning. As Seonghwa looked back he realised you had the same gaze and yet something different. It was obvious you admired his appearance, perhaps even shocked when seeing him up close. However, he recalled a certain trace of curiosity. Of excitement. And as you stared at his face like this, he didn't realise was studying yours.

Yet, there was something in the way you interacted with him; the spike of boldness that shot out of you was something he didn't quite expect. Most girls either stammer like idiots when trying to talk to him, or they screech and giggle and touch him playfully when he doesn't want them to. There's no in-between. So admittedly, he was caught a bit off guard by how you responded to him.

And he liked being caught off guard.

It had been a long ass day and you were, quite frankly, fed up. With your last lesson just finished you were so, so ready to go. Shoving your notebooks into your already heavy bag, you were stopped by the teacher.

"Y/N, I was just wondering if you wanted to join some extracurricular activities? It would really boost up your grades and would make your CV look excellent-"

Ah yes, of course. Here comes the lecture all the bright pupils get which guilt trip them into joining some weird club that no one goes to. You've heard this all before, and you weren't considering it now. It's a shame your teacher caught you at the wrong time because you were barely able to keep your eyes open from pure exhaustion as she spoke to you.

"Thanks Miss, but I've been really busy lately.."

You could see the disappointment in her face but you were so done with the day that you didn't even care.

"Just think about it, okay?"

Heaving a sigh, you slung your bag over your shoulder while the teacher left the classroom.

You knew one of the boys was still there, lurking at the back somewhere. The same group of boys always stayed back and you couldn't possibly think why. And you didn't dare to ask.

"Hey, Princess~"

You couldn't pin that voice on a face. It sounded familiar, but all the boys' voices sounded the same. Only Wooyoung's voice stood out the most since he talked so damn much. And, of course, Seonghwa's...

"You joining a stupid little club for your favourite teacher, eh?"

It was so petty you could've laughed. You turned around to face whoever this boy was, and his name escaped you. His name didn't matter to you regardless.

It unnerved you that he was by himself. Sure, having a whole group of them sneer at you wasn't ideal, but being alone with this guy after school hours made you want to run. But you didn't.

Your unamused face made the boy chuckle as you stared directly into his eyes. You wish you hadn't looked there, because surely you must have looked terrified by now; how he stalked up to you with confidence and intensity of a crow attacking a fresh piece of roadkill.

You stood your ground.

"No, I decided not to."

End of conversation. Done. Dusted. Swept under the rug.

Surely?

He was at an uncomfortable distance now, too close for someone you don't know. And even closer for someone you didn't want to know.

"Good girl."

You shivered. The dread built up in the pit of your stomach.

"Still," he mused, "a strip club doesn't sound so bad."

He had you pressed up against the table as his hands started for the strap of your vest top, a finger curling around it as he slowly started to pull it down. You were paralysed. Eyes wide with fear and disbelief and confusion. You should've run, you told yourself. You should've run you stupid girl.

"Get your fucking hands off her!"

There was a voice, familiar in its depth, but not so familiar in its intensity and rage. Both of you snapped your head over to find Seonghwa, his eyes emoting the most indescribable anger someone could ever feel.

"What the fuck is wrong with you man, let us have our fu-"

It was too late. A fist thrown to the face was enough to send the boy flying. He was weak as he crashed down dramatically into one of the desks. Seonghwa moved to him and kept going. Punch, kick, slam. The boy would be bruised for weeks.

But he ran off anyway, stumbling out of the class. The heavy footfall of his feet echoed down the hall.

You and Seonghwa stared at each other in silence.

His eyes were full of regret. Regret that he didn't stay behind with his 'friend.' Regret that he let you see this violent side of him. Regret that he wasn't there for you. If he hadn't come in at the right time-

Your eyes were filled with sorrow, vision clouded by the beads of tears that formed at the bottom of your eyes. You had felt so alone, so out of your depth and in danger.

"Thank you so much," you burst into tears. You grabbed him and sunk your head into his chest and sobbed into the fabric of his t-shirt. Holding him close into a feeble, yet certain, hug. It was not something you intended to do, but in the overwhelming situation you found yourself in, you felt you owed him the world.

So a hug will do for now.

"Of course he's out of the group, what are you even saying? It's no problem! He was a twat anyway."

Wooyoung sucked on his lollipop with such passion and vigour that Seonghwa thought he was going to inhale and choke on it, which admittedly would've been quite funny.

They sat by themselves on the rooftop, dangling their feet over the edge. They could see the sunset very clearly. It was beautiful. Wooyoung teased that it was almost... romantic! Of course this caused to threaten to push him over the edge for.

"You really pummelled him in though. He's got a black eye and everything. I never thought you were the type," Wooyoung said through slurps, talking with his lollipop still in his mouth.

Seonghwa stared at the sun ahead, its rays giving his face an ethereal glow.

"I don't care."

There was a moment of silence. Seonghwa's eyes stared ahead.

"I can't let anything happen to her."

"Why though?"

"I don't know. I don't even know!"

"I do."

"Huh?"

"You L word her."

Wooyoung chose this moment to flutter his eyelashes mockingly at Seonghwa.

"Shut up."

"You do!"

"That doesn't make any sense I don't even know her."

Seonghwa may have said this but, in his heart, he knew he was wrong. Deep down he knew you. He had watched over you, observed the way you talk, what your interests are, what classes you liked the most that make your eyes light up, and what classes you hated and never put your hand up in. All from the back of the class, he would peak every now and then just to make sure you were okay. Like a guardian angel-

"Maybe you want to know her."

Seonghwa looked at his friend with an eyebrow quirked.

"How does your eyebrow not hurt from you doing that so much I will never know..."

"You're a pain in my ass, Wooyoung."

Seonghwa chuckled and gazed at Wooyoung fondly. It was nice having a friend like him to talk to about anything. Wooyoung can be crazy at times but he always has his back, that's for sure.

"Don't worry, I got this for you."

Seonghwa scrunched up his face in confusion.

"Wait wha-"

"Shhh, don't worry. I have an idea~"

"Not another one of your crazy-ass ideas."

"Don't worry. You're gonna love this one!"

The end of the day on the last day of term felt like such a rush. Nothing exciting happened but you didn't expect much to begin with.

"Bye, I'll see you after summer," you hugged one of your friends goodbye, giving them a squeeze. It would be lonely without them for all this time, as they were going on holiday. There was a certain emptiness you felt at the bottom of your heart when you watched them walk away. You felt there was nothing to look forward to until they returned. It was a shame.

The hallway was starting to lull down with its usual chaos and students fled the school as soon as the bell rang. One by one, students disappeared until only a few remained around you.

As you fiddled with the keys to your locker, on opening it a piece of paper slipped out of it.

Your eyes sparkle with curiosity as you leaned down to pick the paper up. It was small and folded. Your fingers worked at opening it up, revealing slanted handwriting in black biro pen:

'Meet me on the art room roof.

~ Your Guardian Angel'

Your eyes glossed over now, staring at the paper. It was hard for you to examine what you had felt. It wasn't disbelief or shock or confusion. It was certainty. Relief. Comfort.

Smiling to yourself, you did as you were instructed. There was a quickness in your step, a skip of hope and anticipation as you marched to the other side of the school.

Up the stairs to the art classroom, opening the fire exit door and up some more stone stairs, cold and loud with each footstep. And up you were, on the roof, the sky now open to you with open arms as you were embraced by a warm breeze.

There stood Seonghwa, his slicked back hair shining in the sun. His shirt was untucked and hanging over his black trousers, and he wore his usual white bomber jacket on his back, which you thought, at this moment, looked like two angel wings. Perhaps you were romanticising, but it was his fault.

His back was to you as he stood near the edge of the roof. It was like he was posing, like he was in a movie and this was his action shot. As the drone camera circulates around him, getting a 360 cinematic shot of him, his face would be revealed as daring, determined eyes shining in his passion. That's what you had imagined.

"Is this my guardian angel?"

There was no movement when he heard your voice. You expected him to turn around but maybe he had other plans. Maybe he wanted you to come to him. On debating about it in your mind, you decided to give in, shuffling closer until you were right beside him, staring out into the distance just like he did.

"I don't believe in that crap, you know that."

This statement didn't hurt you. His voice was soft, playful, almost melodic. There was a purposeful gentleness about his words in which no man had ever spoken to you before.

A silence was shared between you both, and you couldn't discern whether it was awkward or just simply... was.

"But I like the idea of it," he continued. "The whole idea makes me feel less... lonely."

You recognised your own words that you had said to him before, and suddenly the bubbling sensation of hope erupted in your heart.

He turned to you with a fond smile, and at that moment your eyes connected. You had never felt so at ease when gazing into someone's eyes before. Seonghwa had a warm reassurance that no one could quite match.

Pulling you close to him, he embraced you gently, head atop yours as you both gazed out at the view together. It felt so intimate, like you had both shared a secret, that could never be told to another soul. It felt safe, comfortable. It just felt right.

Secure in his arms, shielded, protected: that's where Seonghwa wanted you to be, always.

[ideas-4-stories]

Inspired by the "buggy gets stabbed with a seastone knife but defeats the assassin" anon and subsequent post.

Buggy really would have had SO MANY SCARS. He's immune to cuts and chops and slices. Not blunt force trauma, burns, bullets, whips, etc. Also he was a pirate apprentice on GOL D. ROGER'S SHIP!! He ate that devil fruit young, sure, but he was still a pirate before then and I highly doubt that that, nor whatever his early life was, would lead to pristine, unblemished skin.

Also - freckles. Give Buggy Freckles 2024.

Anyway, yeah, Buggy would have a MOSAIC of scars and tattoos - many of which have meanings the likes of which are lost to most. Also projection, but Buggy has a medusa tattoo somewhere on his person. Yes the one who did the tattoo for him was on the crew, and still is. Yes they are also the defacto therapist on the island. It's good pay and they get to add Names to the I'll Kill Them One Day list ((it's a whole book. With five volumes. It's on going.))

I have... an angry idea. For Buggy shrugging off seastone wounds and using his own injury as an opening. Roger would have wanted the boys STRONG but happy and safe. He saw so much of himself in Shanks that the attention was perceived as preferential treatment. Shanks was the heavy hitter with potential and skill and charisma -

Buggy was the supporting cast.

Rayleigh, unable to help Roger through the illness, through so many things, projected that onto Buggy ((Very Pearl + Connie, if you know Steven Universe, before Steven stepped in to set that record straight)). Ray would make sure Buggy was strong enough for Shanks. He put that kid through the WRINGER, and it was arguably hell. Buggy came out stronger but also far more terrified - so much so that he struggled to even utilize that strength in any true way. Rayleigh declared it a failure. Apologized to Buggy for 'failing to make him good enough'.

This did a number on him.

One thing that lasted was his frankly unsettling tolerance to water and seastone. He still works on it, and he never quite dropped it. He always has at least one seastone earring in because it's both smth he HAS to do and also it slows down his brain a little, dulling the edge of his normal panic. Like a crystal girlie but far more literal.

This isn't his first rodeo with seastone weapons either - he may have been in the East, but he was still a decently renowned criminal with a hefty bounty. He's an old hand at this!

Still hurts like a bitch though.

He'd absolutely make the dumbest puns too. "Don't worry, I'm in STABle condition! :oD"

"You need stitches, you utter buffoon."

"That wasn't very- hnn- knife of you."

"Please pass out from bloodloss."

"You cut me so deep, Hawkyyy- OW?!"

"Seas save me"

Crocodile is fighting between yelling louder, committing three felonies, laughing, and shutting the clown up. Be it by choking him or kissing him is up for debate. The doctor, used to Buggy's antics, just hands him a fidget toy. "Don't touch the wound, my supplies or try to move yet. Solve the rubix cube before you even consider getting up."

"Boring-"

"I'll tell the kitchen to make hotdogs if you do."

Buggy is now very focused on the pretty color cube.

Oh, referring to this post gotcha!

Yeah, Buggy totally would because he’s a chemist, working with all those bombs and the guy looks like he would trip sometimes while working. Buggy has to have burn scars (I’m pretty sure somewhere, someone said that Buggy has star-shaped, firework burns on his hands. Part of the reason he hides his hands away, I like that idea even that means Buggy got hurt) Now it an idea that I got when I was half-asleep, that I read in the morning with confusion… a cannonball… I don’t why my sleepy brain decided that, but now thinking about it would have to be a ricochet cannonball that he survived from (to be honest Buggy seems like a person who would survive a cannonball to the head, like some Monkey family we know) Then with probably the logical route of bullets, whips, etc… are from being hunted by marines and enemies of the Roger Pirates before he somehow blends into the background and people forgot about him.

I would say Buggy would have eaten his devil fruit around nine years old, for the AU I’m trying to writ… Also freckles… HELL FUCK YEAH!!! I love that idea; it would be so cute on him!!! Scattered all around his body, totally seen him connecting them into shapes and patterns when he’s bored and has nothing else to do.

Definably, he’s a pirate, of course he has many scars, and Buggy having at least 10 tattoos ranging from large too small. I don’t think Buggy ever has sat someone down to explain them, or maybe he has and stopped because people not understanding. Ooooooo, I look up what the Medusa tattoo means, I like to think it’s for survival and strength. With my idea for two long tattoos, I think they would be a mixture of different flowers with hidden things between them - like hidden treasure to find, those tattoos have meanings as well as some funny ones around his body as well. Because it’s Buggy, of course, he will at least have one fucking funny one.

I love an idea their defacto therapist, I think I’ve already have a OC for the job and yes, love the book called I'll Kill Them One Day list. Love that it has five volumes, you know some of those names are crossed off and it continues to grow.

This is an angry idea indeed, poor Buggy… as we see that Buggy is not supporting cast, with his followers (they are like cult followers in a way) and his crew. Basically pushed to the side for Shanks to be the one in the spotlight as the “leader” of the two (I definitely doubt that Shanks didn’t look up to Buggy during sometimes when they were cabin boys)

Oh fuck, no wonder why Buggy hasn’t talk to Rayleigh and makes my idea of them meeting as cold and awkward. Like Rayleigh would greet with nicknames from long ago, expecting the same as what he remembered last of Buggy, only to have Buggy to greet him coldy. Either, with Dark King Rayeleigh or Slivers Rayleigh instead of nicknames that he use to call Rayleigh.

Why…why projected his problems onto Buggy! Like of course that did a number on Buggy, ecspeaily after Ray apologized to Buggy for ‘failing to make him good enough’... You can’t say that to a fucking child, you know they will think it’s all their fault! I mean look at Buggy, he already has enough problems with his self-esteem, he doesn’t need anymore!!!

Poor Buggy, going thtough hell because Rayleigh wants him strong like him to keep Shanks safe because he’s being as stupid as Roger. It makes sense that Buggy can’t use his strength because of being afraid and worrying so much (Buggy is definitely a worry-wort)

I agree with Buggy has an high tolerance to water and seastone, I mean Buggy seemed to of been a really good swimmer from how angry he is from Shanks scaring him and making him swallow the Bara Bara fruit (if not, then it’s a headcanon for me that he’s a really good swimmer before he swallowed the devil fruit) You think he would just stop going into the water? I mean I can see Buggy finding those small pools of water on a beach… I forgot what they are called, anyway you think he wouldn’t go in them to feel the sea? I think Buggy would.

Oooooo a seastone earring or some other type of seastone jewelry on his body. That’s interesting, I’ve never thought about it. The seastone helps him corrals his chop chop powers from doing all the time as well. Calming his brain, dulling the edge of his normal panic is a clever way, bro probably found how much seastone he needs to do so. From this post, Buggy has to have some edibles mixed into brownies or some other type of pastry (it’s now a headcanon for me) Dude has to have some drugs to calm down with the stress that Crocodile and Mihawk have put him through.

Yeah, it's definitely not Buggy’s first rodeo with seastone weapons, I can see Buggy being hunted by people during the time after Roger was killed and I see that’s the time where most of his seastone wounds came from. I wonder now if Buggy hordes the seastone weapons that people attacked him with?… I’ve decided yes, Buggy would keep them.

I stand for Buggy making the dumbest and baddest puns when he is hurt, especially when he gets attacked by seastone weapons. It takes his mind off of the pain they give him (Also the banter between Buggy and Mihawk you made is chefs’ kiss)

Both Crocodile and Mihawk just being done with Buggy and quite disturbed by how Buggy handles his pain. Mihawk wants him to shut up and sit still, while Crocodile is fighting between screaming, committing felonies (like he hasn’t committed felonies more than enough), laughing his ass off, then wanting to either choke Buggy or kiss him to shut the clown up. That’s so them, and Buggy is getting a little shit like always.

This doctor is just like the doctor OC; Kuo-Lee, I’ve created to be the Buggy Pirates medic. Really, being done with what Buggy does and uses things to keep him still. This is so right, handing him a fidget toy, saying that if he is good than he’ll tell the kitchens to give their captain is favorite food. Yeah, that will make Buggy sit as still as he can, to be honest, Buggy isn’t one to sit still.

[whamgram]

It needs to be said Under My Skin is the best Radiobelle fanfic I have read so far! Everything in it is a 10 for 10 the characterization the plot, the slow burning romance it’s just so good the latest chapter had me somewhere between cackling, with giddy enjoyment and incoherently squealing at everything that happened.

Firstly, let me just say, Alastor’s mini shadow minions cuddling, and loving on Charlie was pure genius. It’s like he can’t be honest with himself so his powers find another way to release those feelings, and once again, it is thrust into his face how he really feels. Then the ending with the delivery with the flowers and him destroying the delivery man’s truck quite possibly killing the delivery man. Clearly, he’s never heard the term don’t shoot the messenger shoot the sender. His jealousy is definitely believable. We see it as clear as day because we’re getting a glimpse into his feelings, but he reacts to it subtly when other characters are around so they don’t take notice.

Now, for Vox’s scheming I like how you didn’t make Charlie, so naive as to believe that they wanted to sponsor the hotel without something in it for the vee’s. It was definitely a nice touch and refreshing to see Charlie being kind but not stupid. I feel like a lot of people don’t understand that just because a person is naïve does not mean that they’re stupid. Meanwhile Vox is trying to be cunning, but he can’t hide his physical reactions towards his animosity with Alastor but at the same time he subtly invades Charlie’s personal space not enough send her running for the hills but enough to give off a false sense of charming not that Charlie is fooled by it she’s obviously weirded out by his attempts. It’s clear that he wants to achieve something, but as what it is at the moment, I’m not entirely too sure he could be planning to put a false story out there of himself charming hell’s princess, in order to get under Alastor’s skin. But that’s just a guess. I feel like that’s not it though because it’s too obvious. I can’t wait to see Lucifer‘s reaction to all this because it seems like he knows something is brewing. He’s just not clear on what it is yet. And I’m all too eager to see Alastor lose his temper again

The sparring oh my God, the sporing was everything I hoped for and more it was just delicious just everything about it the mood, the tone, the teasing the banter that was just right and the the unintentional striptease!!! I had to be revived while reading the striptease! How did Alistair not realize that Charlie bit her lip so hard that she cut it? Alastor I understand you’re a massive emotion and you’re sweating through your feelings but you’ve got to pay attention. Your woman is literally thirsting over you. I also love that he’s training Charlie, because I feel like it adds to him saying what he said before about her having potential that he can guide.

My theory is on the awkward Boner tag is that it’s gonna happen if/ when Charlie loses her shit over something because he already checked her out before when she went into her full demon form over, losing her temper about the whole Gloryhole situation. But that was just her losing her temper for a quick second, if she were to actually harness that anger towards a person I think Alastor will be like Oh. Oh deer I need to excuse myself for a quick moment. All in all the chapter was fantastic. The whole story I could read four times and read it again it’s just so good may you continue to write I can’t wait to see what chapter 13 holds.

Oh my gosh, thank you so much! 🥰 This message has made my entire week!

I’m so glad you liked the cuddly shadowy minions! I just loved the idea of Alastor losing control over parts of himself because of his growing feelings for Charlie. He’s a guy who’s always in control of his emotions but he’s never had to deal with these types of emotions before. And he’s very ill-equipped to do so. That also causes these bouts of anger and jealousy that he also can’t control. It’s all he can manage to at least have these outbursts in private.

I agree about Charlie’s naivety! She’s kind and overly trusting but she’s not stupid. She’s willing to give Vox a chance because she’s willing to give everyone a chance. But she definitely went into the meeting feeling cautious and also picked up on his bad vibes. Plus Vox was very much trying to charm her in the same way Alastor does and she was like “Mmm no, that only works on me when Alastor does it.” 😉

I love the “training together” trope and couldn’t wait to write it for Charlie and Alastor! So much delicious potential for banter and sexual tension. 😏 And Alastor was too busy fuming over the insinuation that he lost to Adam because of his fancy clothes (which of course Charlie doesn’t actually think), that he totally didn’t notice her undressing the rest of him with her eyes.

You are very close about the awkward boner tag. 😉 I’ll just say it’s coming up soon.

[ceruleanwhore]

So I’ve seen a lot of posts talking about the potential for canon Ted x Trent in the finale, but there’s an angle or two I haven’t seen examined yet that I’d like to discuss here. What I am referring to is mainly why the writers chose to have Trent be the one to support Colin through his arc, coming out and everything, instead of using Keeley, who is canonically bi and was in a sapphic relationship during Colin’s arc. They didn’t need to have another character come out and everything for the sake of supporting Colin through his arc, and yet they chose to do so anyway, and I do think it’s important that they chose Trent specifically. I think it’s also important to acknowledge how limited lgbtq rep has been in media and how already, just by having Keeley and Colin be written as they are, this show has gone far beyond most others. Likewise, it should be acknowledged how having that role in Colin’s arc would have been genuinely very good for Keeley’s own character arc and how well it could have tied into some aspects of her relationship with Jack, so it’s not as though using her for that would’ve just been a cheap cop-out. The fact that they didn’t do that indicates to me that they have something specific and even better in mind.

When you keep that in mind, suddenly the signs are everywhere that this could actually, genuinely happen in canon - Trent’s red string bracelet, Ted’s comment about Sleepless in Seattle, Trent meeting Ted’s mom, etc. My whole thing with this pairing is that, when I look at it, especially in s3, there’s so much there that I genuinely believe they’d already be snogging if it was hetero and in a different show. In this context, I can only see Trent coming out and Ted “I was a straight man” Lasso making that movie reference as our indication that they bat for the other team, as it were, and yes, this can be something other than friendship.

The other thing I would add is that in the mom episode we get open acknowledgment that Ted’s biggest problem is how he runs around helping others but can’t accept help from anyone else for himself. I would then point out that the only time he’s received the same huge, self-sacrificial type of help he gave Beard with prison and everything is what he got from Trent Crimm revealing an anonymous source and then leaving his entire career to show his support and respect of Ted. Yes, a lot of the others around him have supported and helped Ted in different ways but I think it’s huge that Trent is the only one who’s done so on that level. I would also add that Trent has supported Ted multiple times while being one of the only characters to do so without ever acting against him. Beard stole his car, Nate turned on him, Rebecca was plotting against him and using Leslie to do so, etc., and yet Trent from the beginning was skeptical at most and never really acted against Ted. Beyond that, I also think that the first article Trent wrote about Ted in s1 is hugely indicative of Trent’s potential compatibility with Ted.

For one thing, Ted talked quite a bit in s1 about curiosity and went on that whole speech with Rupert in the darts game about how he values it but how so few people are genuinely curious - but Trent is. Trent shows up to write about Ted, skeptical but curious enough to pay close attention and allow his view of this other man to shift and to not be clouded by biases. I think the truth element is also huge - Ted’s ex wifey couldn’t accept his communication style and got an override from their therapist to force Ted to be outwardly truthful in a way he wasn’t comfortable with, and yet Trent clearly demonstrates his ability to accurately discern the truth from Ted without ever pushing him in such a way. Trent over and over again respects boundaries, never pushes people to share beyond what they’re comfortable with, and still gleans the truth from what he does see and hear, which is exactly what Ted needs.

Lastly, I’m not here to go off ragging on tedbecca and tbh I wouldn’t be mad if it did happen, but I want to talk about why I just don’t see it happening in canon real quick. First and foremost is that she’s the only other character than Ted’s ex (is her name Michelle? I genuinely can’t remember and that’s the only reason why I’m not using it) who uses ‘Oklahoma’ with him, and I don’t actually see that as a good thing. This is especially the case ever since it came out that Michelle(?) is now dating the therapist she and Ted saw who had them start using that in the first place, since that new relationship calls all the therapy she and Ted did into question.

Also, it’s not just that Rebecca used to be plotting against Ted, it’s that from s1 e1 on she’s been using him in one way or another to get back at or one up Rupert. Whether it’s working against him in s1 or then really trying to get him to win, especially with that one game against West Ham in s3, she’s just continually trying to use Ted as a tool against another man. What’s more damning is that when she does start to show interest in men who are not Rupert, it’s never Ted- Ted’s just there to bring her biscuits and engage in occasional attempts at girl talk, which really fits into the trope of a token gay best friend. I think they do have a good, solid relationship and, like I said, I won’t be mad if they do end up together, but I don’t see them as being set up to be in a romantic relationship.

But yeah, I think that’s all for now lol

[icemavslastbraincell]

We got Godzilla Minus One Minus Color for a week so obviously I had to go and watch it on my day off. But the Icemav brainrot has completely taken me over and I simply can't stop thinking about the Icemav potential with this kind of AU.

Like Ice coming back from war, traumatized and wartorn only to discover that his parents (or siblings or whoever) are gone due to some horrific events. Trying to rebuild his life, trying to move past everything that happened to him in the war and suddenly in barges this short, chaotic, green eyed gremlin of a man and a small child that doesn't belong to the man but is his responsibility per his promise to his two best friends. Ice doesn't want them around at first; Maverick and Bradley are two extra mouths he can't afford to feed not to mention the fact that the reason they first was because Ice was in town and Maverick quite literally slammed into him and shoved Bradley into his arms before running off, cops chasing after him. Not exactly an ideal meeting.

But Ice has never been one to turn his back on children in need, even if it means he has to keep Maverick around because he and Bradley are a package deal. So Ice lets them stay. He finds a job, a pretty well paying one, and they rebuild their lives, bit by bit. Maverick finds a job in a nearby town and there's something budding between them, though neither man is brave enough to put a name to it quite yet. Ice starts to think that maybe, just maybe, he can start to move past everything.

And then disaster strikes. Suddenly, Mav is gone and with it, part of Ice's will to live. He knows he has to take care of Bradley, it's what Mav would've wanted him to do, but how is he supposed to do this without Maverick? How is he supposed to keep living with this gaping hole in his chest, this crippling sadness that hovers over him and suffocates him at every chance?

So he throws himself into helping after the disaster. If he can't bring Maverick back, the least he can do is make sure whatever that thing was pays for taking him from Ice. He leaves early on the day that everything is scheduled to go down, leaves an envelope with money for Bradley and a letter to their neighbor, Viper, explaining what's going on and to use the money for raising Bradley.

And then he doesn't die. He miraculously survives, the monster seemingly defeated, and when he gets back to shore, he finds Viper and Bradley. Viper gives him a stern look, one that definitely means that they're gonna be having a talk later, and shoves a telegram in his hand. He's confused for a split second then reads it.

Mav is alive.

Mav is *alive*.

*Mav is alive*.

He gathers Bradley from Viper and rushes to the hospital as fast as he can, trying desperately not to cry on the way there. Bradley is confused, not quite understanding what's going on but nevertheless willing to follow Ice wherever.

They rush up the stairs to Mav's room, Ice far too impatient to wait for the elevator, and Ice bursts through the door, the handle stopping just shy of slamming into the wall.

Sure enough, there on the bed is his short, chaotic, green eyed gremlin, bandages on his head and arm in a sling. Despite how much pain he's surely in, a soft smile rests on Maverick's lips when he looks up and sees Ice and Bradley.

Ice can't help it; the tears that have been stinging his eyes for the past twenty minutes finally slip out and race down his cheeks as short, hiccuping breaths leave his lungs, shattering them each time they escape.

"Is your war finally over?" Mav asks in a soft, barely there voice.

And Ice buckles. He has enough control over his body to not drop Bradley on the floor, instead placing him on the bed next to Mav's leg, and collapses against Maverick. He nods and buries his face into the meat of Mav's thigh. Hands come up, one carding through his hair and the other one running along his back. The touches are comforting, welcome, even if they make him cry more.

He doesn't care about anything else but this right here: his family, back together again, finally whole once more.

Anyway, I'll probably turn this into a full fic at some point, I just really wanted to get this out there bc it was literally all I could think about as I watched G-1 for the fifth time

[halfagone]

I just reread Off With the Demon's Head and now I've gotta ask you a few things.

How does Talia feel now, knowing she gave birth to the person she's been competing with for her father's attention and affection with and losing? If I'm not misinterpreting how she thinks of her father based on that scene describing Ra's visiting Danny and Athanasia but not Damian.

With pending plans in mind for this, is Ra's going to get as creepy here as you have planned in Luthor's Ascent? Or is he too blinded by affection for Boy/Wild Child that he can't see the potential power that would be at his fingertips if he could get his claws back into Danny?

When Danny entered his core, you wrote that someone else noticed what had happened. With additional confirmation that the Cores can still communicate and Pariah has been Cored as well, is Pariah just sending off a whole bunch of alarm vibes from somewhere in Clockwork's junk drawer?

Hope you had a fun reread!

I obviously won't share this all with detail but since it might take some more time before I get to write and post that next update, I might as well share some of the fun. lol

[Possible Spoilers If You'd Like to Avoid <333]

Prior to this, Ra's has not once breathed a word about Danny to anyone. He is Ra's' most ardent secret and, quite possibly, glaring weakness. However, with this new tidbit of information Talia can probably start connecting the dots and realize just how significantly Danny's relationship and subsequent disappearance had on her entire life. She had been in a competition all this time and she didn't even know her true opponent.

One of the things I love about this fic is just how damn complicated everything is and Talia is no different. She wouldn't resent Danny or hate the fact she had birthed her competition. But she would resent that her father could only hold affection for one person at a time and would never share it. After all, before this she just thought Ra's was a hardass that had impossible standards. Which is still partially true but no matter how close she met or surpassed those standards she would never be Danny. It was never that she wasn't good enough, it's just that her father wanted someone else and that fucking sucks.

Are the Daddy Issues inherited in Off With [the Demon's] Head? Yes. Yes there are. Unintentionally!

So Ra's will be creepy but in a different sort of way. Ra's in LL's Ascent is more like objectification kinda creepy whereas Ra's in OWtD'sH is more like you are mine and we are one and you can never walk away from me- So like. Obsessive. Possessive. Maybe some mild abandonment issues. Definitely some lingering grief there. But turn it from 100 to 1000.

This Inspired By fic that I wrote as a gift shows a glimpse into what that can look like as well. I am also quite partial to this Danny & Ra's fic I wrote which shows how damn charismatic Ra's can be, allowing him to spin the narrative to his advantage.

you are mine and we are one and you can never walk away from me-

Pay careful attention to this line. Whereas in LL's Ascent Ra's views Danny as more of a tool to further his goals, in OWtD'sH Ra's sees Danny as an extension of himself and therefore should remained fixated at his side where he belongs. Any power Danny wields would naturally be used to his advantage, Danny's power -> his power.

(Can I just say I love and appreciate how many details you noticed? Because I do love and appreciate it <333)

I can't give too much away about Pariah just yet, despite how much it makes me giggle with unfiltered, evil author glee, but all the alarms are going off and people are gonna be running around like headless chickens.

I hope this has fed the brain worms until the next update. >:3 Thanks for the Ask!

[heiayen]

two witches walk into a prison cell... - lyney&gn!reader

summary: after a series of unfortunate accidents, including you and lyney, you get accused of... being witches and thrown into jail. there has to be a way of getting out, right?

tags: can be read both as romantic and platonic for the relationship between [name] and lyney, depending on how you choose to read this! it's crack, comedy, whatever you want. unspecified medieval au? headcanons, not proof read. there is a mention

notes: passes out. im still on a tumblr break but hello!! this is my entry for @ecrin-de-litterature prison escape event yippeee sorry lyney for throwing you into jail... happens. this is so silly save me

How… unfortunate. The townspeople have decided, with pitchforks and burning torches, rocks breaking the windows– you and Lyney, your dearest companion of years, are… witches. Dabbling in witchcraft, causing mischief and apparently hurting chickens that your very grumpy neighbor raises in her garden. You wouldn’t even get near her fence, let alone her godsdamn chickens! And while… the chickens were in fact getting sick more often than supposed, you were sure it was because of your neighbor’s poor animal raising skills, not because of whatever you and Lyney did.

You were a role citizen, one could say. Never caused too many problems for the royal guards and other folk living here, you had a nice, little shop with medical herbs, all hand-picked with the utmost care, always the best quality– because who would you be, if you didn’t care about selling your clients only the best goods? Lyney, on the other hand, was the town’s bard, often performing on the streets with his dear sister and he was quite good at it, you had to admit. Charming people with his performances and charisma, all the girls in town swooning over him… Sometimes you wondered if it was only a matter of time until the king himself took interest in Lyney’s and his sister’s shows. Or until something else happened…

That something happened now. The elders of the town decided that everything bad happening to the town was your fault and that you deserved to be burne– oh, well, arrested. Locked in a cell, awaiting what next people would decide with your hands tied. Metaphorically and literally sadly, because the folks believed you’d pose a danger with your hands free. In a way they were right, you really wanted to punch that guard standing next to the cell–

Right. That guard was guarding you and Lyney all the time. As much as you… well, understood that prisoners should be guarded to not escape, especially those accused of witchcraft, it still pissed you off greatly. You really wished you could throw a rat at him or something. Maybe a bucket of stinky water, the one you used to clean the floors with. You had many ideas of potential revenge but alas, you couldn’t do anything.

Or so you thought. Lyney didn’t share your pessimist thinking (and neither the many revenge plots you shared with him) and soon, the man got into the action of freeing you from this terrible, cold, and smelly cell. He called the guard and you only looked at him with raised eyebrows. In no way the guard would let you out! He surely had a family to raise and feed and the guardian pay was small already, how would he manage if it was cut for letting the prisoners go? 

It turned out that Lyney… had a plan. A plan you thought wouldn’t succeed because, oh, surely that guard was smarter than that! And yet how wrong you were. When the guard entered the cell, the key to it hanging from his belt on his hip, you threw away your pride for a moment and simply begged the guard to let you two go. Lyney had a sister and a brother after all, and to deprive them of a loving, older brother over some dumb rumors would… truly be tragic. A heartbreaking tale of a family broken down by a vengeful crowd, over things they didn’t even commit. And if he couldn’t let both of you go, then he should at least let Lyney go. He deserved that, to meet with his siblings for the last time until he would be forced to run away.

And so go on. You pulled out your best pleading eyes, even tears– all while Lyney was working from behind. You almost broke your act seeing him untie his hands, as if he couldn’t do so already! You would cover him, he would untie his hands and yours too and… well, while it wouldn’t help you run away, it surely would make the planning more comfortable! But with his hands free, Lyney quietly, stealthy, behind that guard’s back, took the hanging keys from his belt. For his luck, the keys were more on guard’s back than his front, because in no way he would succeed otherwise…

But that left another problem, didn’t it? Although Lyney had the key, the guard was still here, throwing literal daggers with his gaze at you, completely unmoved by your pleading. You needed him out of the room. Or maybe not, you needed him locked in here for ages, so that he could atone for his mistakes of locking you here– Well. Grand revenge could wait.

Suddenly, in the middle of your pleading, you widened your eyes and looked somewhere behind him, gasped as if you saw your ancestor’s ghosts and yelled. That provided enough distraction for the guard to turn around, scared what was that you saw only to be greet with a smiling and waving Lyney… and a hard kick into the back of his knee, of course by yours truly. He hit the floor and before he could ever get up from it, you and Lyney already stood outside the now locked again cell, you smiling brightly at the annoyed guard. And before he could really realize what happened, you two already started running away.

Running away from other guards was a surprisingly easy task, simply having to hide and quietly walk right under their noses– which with Lyney leading wasn’t hard and… oh, you two were out of jail! Finally breathing the fresh air, seeing the beautiful sky after exactly one day of being jailed, it all caused warmth to bloom in your chest. You were happy and free.

…for now at least because you and Lyney knew that the townsfolk would not leave it like that. Frankly, you really didn’t want to see pitchforks outside your house again, no. But, oh well, it was bound to happen again and it really was a matter of time.

Well. What happened has happened, and there was no turning time back and now you, Lyney and, by extension, his siblings, had to create a plan of dealing with the entire village wanting to hunt you down. But that was a different story…

(And a different story was the fact that the village was, in fact, right about you and Lyney but… oh! A little bit of witchcraft never hurt anyone! Okay, maybe these herbs you gave your lovely chicken-raising neighbor were meant to give her the worst headaches known to mankind for whole three days because she pissed you off so badly, but… she was a special case. And this was the only thing you ever did to her despite having many urges to show her real powers of witchcraft! You’d never hurt poor chickens. You really had to get back at her one day…) 

[an-annyeoing-writer]

yandere!Kai x Reader: petty theft. [+18]

Word count: 3 371

Tags: yandere!AU, smut, obedience training, bratty behavior, extreme degradation, sadom*sochism, in case you feel like Reader is high don't worry it's just subspace.

Warnings: s*xual content, potentially triggering themes such as toxic relationship traits, friendly reminder it's a fiction and not what we expect our IRL Nini to be.

Author's note: It's been a while since I wrote anything like that. Took quite a bit of effort as for such a small piece, but I hope to be releasing more content in the future~ Probably a Baekhyun fic will come around Halloween, so stay tunned!

His word was an order and you were addicted to giving up the sense of control. It was a perfect kind of deal between the two of you: him who would take everything without asking, and you who’d follow him without a moment of doubt.

Your relationship was anything but reasonable, anything but right, and anything but prosperous. But it was giving you some sense of fulfillment that no other had ever given, and it was a form of self-destruction that you could take with masochistic pleasure.

It would be a lie to say that it was the only unhinged thing that you enjoyed. Some things you liked more, some you liked less. Maybe it was your toxic trait to allow his obsession to get this far without objection, so you could drink up from all the pain and torment that he could offer.

“You have done it again.” His voice rumbled through the apartment. “Give it back.”

Recently, you felt lonelier than usual. When he would work and do other business stuff, or meet his friends even, you’d be locked up in his apartment with close to no source of entertainment. You were over with attempts to get out or to contact someone from the outside – these never brought anything good.

But you still felt the need to itch him in some way that would make him come to you and take it out on you. He had taken note of the pattern, you noticed – you’d be surprised if he didn’t. When someone steals your wallet three times in a row, it cannot be an accident.

The wallet was stored neatly under your pillow and the moment he entered your room, hand extended in expectation of receiving back the stolen item, you didn’t even pretend not to know what’s it all about.

Without hurry but neither taking too much time, you pushed yourself off the mattress and retrieved the wallet, then walked over to Jongin and placed it in his hand. The man’s eyes were fixated at you, although you couldn’t yet tell what he was thinking.

“Why do you always do that?”

You shrugged, a bit too embarrassed to state aloud your silly reasoning.

“You just wanted attention, didn’t you?”

He could read you like a book, couldn’t he? You hesitantly nodded your head.

The man shook his own with a sigh.

“What do I do with you. If I punish you as you want so badly, you’ll keep doing it whenever you feel like it.” You pouted. “I need to correct you in a way that discourages you from doing it again, right?”

There was a sense of fear mixed with excitement starting to grow within your stomach.

He stared at you with his face unreadable, and you felt like that stare had no other purpose but to make you start doubting in yourself, with nervousness arising that you were not sure you enjoyed anymore.

There was some sense of negative emotion on his side. As long as it was only irritation, you could handle it. But what if he was actually upset? What if you acting up had ruined something within his daily schedule? What if he wasted too much time trying to look for it or picking up stuff he then couldn’t pay for? Hopefully he didn’t get a fine on his way for not having his documents on.

“[F/n].”

You straightened up as if on command. Sensing the fear finally settle in and uneasiness become tangible on your face, Jongin’s demeanor started to shift. From cold and emotionless, a smug smirk appeared in the corner of his lip, and he crossed his arms with the wallet still held between his fingers.

Suddenly, his grip on the wallet loosened, and the item fell out of his hand and dropped to the floor with a thud. The noise was objectively quiet but in the silence surrounding you, it made your heart thump. Jongin didn’t flinch.

“Pick it up.”

You didn’t hesitate, crouching down and picking up the item, carefully putting it in his hand again.

However, the man didn’t move, and neither did he put any effort in holding it, and so the wallet fell back down. You stared at him in confusion.

“Pick it up.”

You gulped. The task was confusing, but refusing it was out of question. You picked the wallet up again and put it in his hand, this time holding it in there until you felt his fingers wrap around it securely. You breathed a soft sigh of relief when they did.

And then he dropped it again. The noise of the item falling down echoed with a nervous pang in your chest, as if it was not just a sound of a wallet falling, but a thunder at least.

You didn’t hesitate before crouching down yet another time, picking it up and extending your hand, although ready for the item to be denied again.

Jongin tilted his head to the side.

“I didn’t tell you to pick it up.”

He stepped forward, making sure that the step made noise on the wooden panels, and that noise was yet another sound that made you flinch, as if any motion coming from him could be a threat right now.

“You know what I mean, don’t you?” he spat. “If I tell you to do something, you do it. If I don’t tell you to, you don’t. If I tell you not to breathe, you fucking don’t.”

His hand shot forward, wrapping around your throat, and you thoughtlessly released the wallet, hands reaching to hold his wrist instead. You knew that fighting him would be futile, and to be frank, you wouldn’t even dare to do so. His hold wasn’t too strong, fingers pressing against the veins but not depriving you from air just yet. But a single attempt of taking a bigger breath made you choke on your own saliva and you gasped, trying to loosen his hold at least a little.

“Hands down.” The command was simple, and you felt tears gather in your eyes when you forced yourself to ignore the discomfort and take your hands off his own. The tips of your toes and fingers started to tingle.

Without any warning, the hold on your throat finally disappeared, and you coughed, bending in half because your legs almost gave up underneath you. You had just a few moments of rest before the next words came.

“Pick it up. With your teeth.”

You didn’t have to courage to look up at him.

Besides, from your position it was closer to the ground anyway.

You crouched down shakily, letting your knees and palms hit the floor. You repositioned yourself slightly so that the wallet would be in a convenient proximity and lowered your head, briefly thinking of how dirty the item must have been, being one of those never-washed items that are constantly in use outdoors. But that was not important. Your task was.

Your mouth was merely centimeters from the leather surface when you felt something touch the top of your head. From a brief sensation, it gradually strengthened into a pressure that pressed your face down into the floor. You peeked to the side, confirming the suspicion that it was nothing else but Jongin’s shoe weighing down on top of your head.

Your body quivered. It was a natural reflex to try and fight against the force, but you knew better than that – the only way was to give in, even when your cheek started to hurt from the pressure. It would hurt just a bit longer, and then you’d feel the bliss of submission overcome any and all pain. You breathed heavily, trying to at least position yourself a bit more comfortably.

Wordlessly, Jongin took his foot off your head, allowing you to finish the task. The wallet’s texture felt gross on your tongue, and you did your best to touch it only with your teeth. You lifted yourself until you were kneeling, and then tiled your head upwards, praying so that he would just take the wallet back without playing any more games.

You breathed a sigh of relief when his fingers pulled the item gently from between your teeth.

Noticing your saliva gathered on the surface, Jongin brought the item to your face, and you flinched, muscle memory awaiting a slap to your cheek.

But the slap didn’t come, and instead, he wiped the wallet on your face, and you pressed your lips together, doing your best to stay still during the humiliating treatment.

Upon finishing the act, he smoothly tucked the wallet in his back pocket, the item quickly forgotten and nothing left to stand in between you and Jongin’s mercy – or lack thereof. His attention, now focused on you solely, felt intimidating.

“Up.”

Although the order was rather vague, you didn’t hesitate rising onto your feet.

“Down.”

Your mind was already hazy, and so it didn’t feel so weird anymore to fulfill the Sisyphean task.

“Up.”

In fact, there were no thoughts left in your mind to even think about whatever the point of the requests was. There was only full obedience, and as long as he told you what to do, you had a goal to live for.

“Down.”

The floor already managed to warm up underneath your body, although your legs were growing tired. But all of these were just secondary sensations, your eyes, half-lidded in your masochistic high, were fixated on his own.

“You like it?”

You nodded, your tongue like a jelly making it hard to speak a word, but Jongin didn’t seem to mind.

“See? It’s so much better when you listen. You feel so good and I’m happy. Why change that?” You sensed a threat lingering in his voice and felt an urge to soothe it, so you leaned forward and pressed your face into his thigh, like a pet asking for that little bit of intimacy from its owner. The comparison seemed very accurate in your situation. “Are you tired, yet?” You nodded with a lazy smile. “I don’t think so.”

The next motion came completely unexpected, the man’s fingers grabbing your hair at the roots, pulling you off his thigh and pressing your face into his crotch instead.

“You’re not tired, sweetheart. I haven’t told you to be tired yet.”

The persuasion took your breath away. You dreamed of nothing more than of succumbing to the drugged-like state of your mind, but Jongin was merciless as he unzipped his pants with one hand, the other wrapped around your hair tightly when he pushed his length into your mouth before you could even take a good glance.

You gagged, your throat completely unprepared for the rough treatment. Jongin only pushed in harder until your nose touched his abdomen, and then held you in this position for a few seconds despite you gagging and choking. He pulled out, letting you take a short breath, and then pushed back in – your reactions much weaker this time.

It took some moments, a few pushes like that, until you finally started giving up again, and Jongin picked up his face, aligning it with his own pleasure. Your throat started to accommodate around him, but every rougher motion teared your eyes up. His movements were frantic, almost wild, and nothing but selfish.

There was no regard for your comfort, and it made you thrive. Your mind – covered in a fog. Nothing felt real. You diverted your attention from the sloppy noises of your own mouth being used, because somewhere not so far away, Jongin’s beautiful, although sparse moans filled the air like a heavenly music that you could just not get enough of.

Your jaw was starting to ache. It was hardly possible to breathe. You were lightheaded and too dazed to even acknowledge your own arousal starting to pool between your legs. Your skin was tingling all over, your scalp – burning, and you could swear you saw stars for a moment.

But Jongin’s pace was relentless, and something about that cruel, degrading demeanor was turning you on even more. He was making such good use of you, his obedient little doll.

It didn’t even matter that your hands were too weak to try and help him feel even better, because all Jongin seemed to care about was that your mouth felt so warm and nice.

It was just mere minutes that your mind barely registered before you felt him harden even more. You heard no warning, but his heavy pants and gasps – the ones you already learned to recognize – told you enough.

He suddenly pushed into your mouth with full force, his fingers holding your head in place as he came hard and fast, not even a taste present on your tongue with how his semen ran straight down your throat.

You gagged, a cough fruitlessly trying to tear through, everything inside of you screaming for relief that for those few seconds was completely unreachable. You only fought for his cum not to get into your lungs or leave through your nose, a desperate attempt on remaining at least remotely human in this absolutely dehumanizing experience.

Jongin finally pulled out of your mouth, and you frantically choked and coughed, catching desperate breaths, careless of his semen and your saliva running now down your chin and dropping onto your shirt and the floor below.

Your hands were still too weak to try and wipe it, your legs felt like cotton candy that absolutely wouldn’t hold you up, and you only bent down, leaning into his leg for comfort again, which this time brought even more peace and relief when you felt him reach down and place his hand on top of your head, stroking your hair gently, giving you all the time to catch your breath and recover. You felt so dizzy and so tired, so lowly but also so at ease.

“Up.”

Your body moved on its own before you consciously registered his voice. With legs feeling like a jelly, you forced yourself up. He must have composed yourself while you were down on the floor, and there was a stark contrast between him – looking as neat as ever – and you, completely whored out, not even remotely decent in appearance.

“That’s my girl.”

The praise tasted like champagne, sedating you further.

“Come here.”

He circled you and put his hands underneath your elbows. With mellow motions, he led you towards your bed and then pushed you onto the mattress. You landed softly and helplessly among cloud-like pillows and blankets.

The strong urge to melt and fall asleep has been abruptly interrupted by the man’s hands tugging at your pants and pulling them down to your knees. You hazily thought that it would be nice to get used once again, although your muscles wouldn’t really support you much and you’d be just a limp doll trapped underneath him. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“Wake up, princess” he mocked, tapping your face – too gently to call it a slap in your dictionary, but not particularly affectionately either. You must have not noticed when your eyes slipped closed, and so you forced them back open.

You sensed Jongin’s hand hovering your womanhood, its warmth spreading all over your skin in a pleasant manner.

You could swear you could fall back asleep, but his two fingers suddenly intruded your entrance, making sure to cause a little bit of prickling pain even despite all that wetness that would make it so easy to accommodate to him. You let out a small whimper of discomfort.

“Wake up, love. There’s one more lesson you need to learn.” The pet names persuaded you to muster last bits of strengths – his words tasted so delicious, sweet proofs of Jongin’s own devotion for you, and what more could you possibly want? You reached with your arms to wrap them around the man’s neck in a loving, albeit somewhat pleading embrace.

“Could I be tired…?” you asked a bit jokingly, but also knowing that he’d appreciate that you kept his words in mind.

Jongin laughed softly.

But then his smile suddenly fell and his face darkened.

“Not. Yet” he spat out, fingers pushing deep into your core. Sensation wouldn’t be so pleasant normally, and it was clear that he also did not mean to please you, but you were growing deprived and just as the humiliation earlier, mere touch of him on your private parts made you squeal in arousal.

He joined one more finger, stretching you out easily with a sprinkle of pain. Small brushes of his thumb against your clit made you overflow with thirst, but he just wouldn’t do enough to quench it for you.

“Please…” You tried pressing yourself against his palm for any more of the sweet friction, but the other hand was quick to wrap around your neck and push you down into the mattress, rendering you absolutely helpless. The position yet again sent warmth down to your core, and you felt as though if he was to slap you in the face at that exact moment, you could simply cum just from that.

But Jongin couldn’t care less. He turned from stretching you to fucking you with his fingers, brushing against your sweet spot so sparsely despite the fast pace that you felt like you could lose your mind. You were pathetically mewling for any sort of actual relief.

And that was when he just stopped.

You moved your hips as if it would provide the friction instead, but both of his hands were suddenly gone. You pressed your thighs together, reaching with your own hand to finish yourself off, but it was slapped away before you could even get close, and so you sobbed in frustration, wriggling on the damn mattress as if it would soothe your need.

It took you a few painfully long moments to come back to your senses. Breath slowing down, the buzzing feeling in your head subsiding, sensation coming back into your limbs.

Your eyes eventually registered Jongin – he was resting his cheek on top of your bent knee, arms wrapped loosely around your leg in an intimate, loving position, so different from his cruel demeanor mere moments before.

He sat there in silence, watching your desperate and chaotic state with a small, content smile on his face, as if he took pride in nothing more than making you this pathetic, this hopeless, in drowning you in your own despair.

Your heart was slowing down, but it would be a lie to say that you felt any better. Your thighs were all wet from your arousal, and everything down there ached with how the pleasure was ruthlessly drawn away.

“Please” you mumbled with remains of strength, although you weren’t sure if your body could take any more of mistreatment.

“You can be tired now, love.”

Your eyes widened in realization.

“B-but…”

“Hm?”

Jongin’s head tilted innocently, although the look on his face held a threat behind, one that you wouldn’t dare to try and challenge. Your face must have displayed absolute defeat, all while Jongin’s was nothing but pleased.

“That’s what I thought, sweetheart.” His hand reached and patted your cheek lovingly, although there was something objectifying in it, as if he was patting a pet, or a favorite car, and not his lover’s face. You accepted your defeat.

Jongin sat next to you as you succumbed into the embrace of sleep, watching over you. Like a guardian angel – although a demon would be more appropriate in regards to his persona. You smiled at the thought.

With a tender kiss to your forehead, he whispered a goodnight, covering you with a blanket cozily and placing the fluffiest pillow right by your head, so you could wrap your arms around it if you’d like. Eventually, when he was certain you were almost asleep, he carefully got up from his place on your mattress and walked to the door, shutting it quietly to let you finally rest in the peace of your own space.

And in the last moments before falling asleep, you only wondered how long you will be allowed to rest before he notices that you pickpocketed his wallet again.

Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed this piece. Please reblog if you're able to, feedback will also be appreciated!!