#someone smarter than i should write that fic

[gardenerian]

Do you have any headcannons on Ian and religion? Like do you think he believes in any god or is it just when he's manic? It seems like it might have a lot to do with fear. When he had yevgeny he was asking the cops if Jesus sent them to take his baby. I find that interesting

oh boy howdy wow wow wow hello! what a Q, what a Q. and do i have an A? i... don't know. but i sure do have some THOUGHTS.

getting my charlie kelly on under the cut:

okay. so.

ian is someone who does not do well with uncertainty, right? so much of his story is pushing and reaching and grasping for answers. in his relationships, with his sense of self, for his future.

i think he does look to things bigger or grander than himself for order and meaning, but it's not god (at first). it's things like the allegiance to serve, or the oath he takes as an EMT.

we don't seen much religion in early shameless, except for the odd (sarcastic) reference to irish catholicism or to stealing from/scamming their church. they have some (if minor) relationship with the place, and i do have a headcanon that they may have spent some time there pre-series as a place to get food/stay warm.

so when ian gets to his s5 manic episode, i think that's where the foundation of that delusion would lie, or at least, the vocabulary for what he's afraid is happening? jesus, gabriel, and demons stealing yevgeny is such a specific vision, i would think he had some religious grounding to come to that conclusion.

religious delusions are incredibly common in mania, even if a person is not particularly religious. and i totally agree with you that ian's is triggered by fear. the last thread kind of snaps in that moment. his paranoia is ramped up until it reaches the only end it really can - crashing down.

and we don't see religion for ian again until monica dies. ian turns to his job as an EMT and his relationships to help him make sense of the world. but losing mickey and monica all at once... he's lost at the start of s8. and i think the mania and religion are a little more closely intertwined in this episode. it appears far before the breaking point, and they kind of go hand in hand.

ian spends half the season looking for something to help him feel better and when he finds it, he locks in. trevor, the kids he helps, the shelter, the pastor, the religious movement - it all becomes this warped mission for ian. and it's both way bigger than him and largely self-serving. he's actively reading the bible and finding a calling that he believes is his alone.

the delusion here is less about paranoia and terror, and more about righteousness, grandeur, and sensing a calling - it's filling a void and lifting him higher than he can handle. but i will still argue there is still fear laced in it. fear is a powerful motivator for ian, it always has been.

and i think the s8 episode had a long, difficult recovery. one thing i'm always wishing we had was the mourning period - there is a grief that follows losing a delusion like that. we see it just a bit, with ian still looking for shim back at home. to have such strong conviction, only to suddenly face the reality that it was, in fact, a symptom of mental illness... that hurts. and to go to prison for it? yikes.

so i do wonder how ian let go of religion. does he purposefully not mention it again, or is this episode another victim of the show's goldfish memory? how does he explain it all to mickey? is the shame compounded by this religious aspect?

it doesn't play a role in their wedding, or ian's sense of right and wrong, it doesn't guide him after prison. so in canon.... you can say it's just gone. maybe it recedes until the energy returns? i don't know.

in my head, though... it's more complicated than that. i don't know if i think that ian actively believes in abrahamic religion. but i think there is certainly part of him that wrestles with the big questions and might find the idea of god (in whatever form) comforting at times.

i think they all grew up too cynical to think that someone is specifically listening to their prayers but... i don't know. in my head, ian at least remains sensitive to the idea of god, and won't bring himself to write it off entirely, even if he's not actively praying or searching for it.

i have rambled enough! what do you think?

[tteokdoroki]

ೀ⋆OCT 31ST LEGALLY BLONDE ━━ seishiro nagi + coercion !

୨୧ — caution, you are now watching. seishiro nagi + coercion. there’s no way someone broke up with nagi because he’s too blonde!? poor baby, maybe you could provide a little emotional support…(5.5K)

୨୧ — rated r. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, heavy smut, dark content, characters aged up to 20s, college!au, strangers to lovers (?), teaching assistant/student relationship, dom/sub dynamics, some switching, reader is lifted up by nagi, coercion, dubcon, handjobs, virginity loss, cherry chasing, oral fixation, mind break, praise kink, creampies, soft sex, clothed sex, unprotected sex, TA!reader, elle woods!nagi.

୨୧ — director’s note. happy halloween my loves! i hope you enjoy the final kinktober fic! its been super fun writing and editing for you all. stay tuned for the bonus in the coming weeks <3 - m.list ⋆ kinktober m.list ⋆ taglist ✧

this law school thing wasn’t all what it cracked up to be. 

after the love of his life, reo mikage, had broken up with him for someone smarter, blander and richer than him — nagi had been blessed with the genius idea of following his ex all the way to one of the top law schools in the world. the plan was practically fool proof, the guys at his sorority worked hard to help seishiro study — pulling all nighters for practice tests and rewarding him with naps every time he had gotten a question right. 

rin itoshi had even convinced his parents to reach out to a hollywood director so that they could film nagi’s audition tape. it obviously featured isagi and bachira too. nagi had even worn his best designer swim trunks to impress the board of admissions. they’d all been super supportive of the light haired male in his endeavours and were there when he passed his LSAT exam

with all of this combined, he had managed to get in in — if that wasn’t enough for reo, then what was?

the answer? nothing.

reo still wanted that bland, basic bitch his family was marrying him off to. she was sensible, she was rich and seishiro quickly realised that he had only ever been a bit of ditzy fun to reo — a dumb blonde to stick his dick into whenever the time felt right. eye candy and nothing more. balancing his shattering hard with the complexities of law school had been tough for the white haired male and everything seemed to be going wrong. no one would study with him, reo wouldn’t even look at him and his friends back home were busy with the wedding plans nagi so desperately wished he had. 

however, that’s when you came along. 

after having the epiphany that he didn’t need reo to succeed — nagi knuckles down and studied hard for the law firm internship being offered amongst his cohort. he was relieved to have you as a teaching assistant in the process, not only were you absolutely gorgeous but you were compassionate and empathetic. you were smart, eloquent and everything seishiro wished he could be for his ex.

perhaps that’s what drew him to you, why he followed your every word like a puppy drooling after a treat. you’d been kind to nagi for the entire semester, from helping him out with studying for the internship right down to today, where he would be taking on his very first case in a court of law. it should have been easy, the facts were simple too. the client and fellow fraternity brother  (shidou ryousei) was accused of and arrested for the murder of his wife… but something about the events weren’t seeming to add up. nagi couldn’t come up with an alibi either. 

it was as if the words; the reasonings, the justification for shidou’s freedom were right in front of grey-scale eyes, only scrambled up like morse code. “how about we take a break?” as if you were a vision from his dreams or an angel from up above, you appear behind nagi’s tall frame as he slumps defeatedly against the hotel room desk — your hands fixing themselves to his broad shoulders for a massage. “you’ve been at this all night, seishiro.”

the law student swears your touch could heal all human ailments, the warmth of your palms seeping into the tense parts of his muscles like a cell performing diffusion — relaxation forming a comfortable fog over his brain. “i know shidou didn’t do it,” nagi defends with a grumpy pout, leaning back into you so that his head rests lazily against your stomach. “he told me… he said he was getting liposuction.” 

“we’ll need evidence of that,” you note, jerking your head to the side so that nagi can write it down. this entire time you’d been such a good mentor. “good boy.” something clicks in the light-haired male’s brain, a crackle of electricity shooting down his spine at your praise — swirling around in his guts as if to activate arousal.  “run me through the witness statements again.” there’s a sensual lilt to the tone of your voice and your touch cascades from his shoulders up to his neck like a backwards flowing waterfall.

seishiro isn’t sure if he’s making things up or reading the signs correctly — but he knows that there’s some kind of tension bubbling in the air. particles that resemble an aphrodisiac using kinetic energy to collide together, painting the room with lustful colours. “shidou’s step daughter says she heard a gunshot around 2:15pm after leaving the shower, walkin’ downstairs only to find shidou hangin’ over his wife’s body — covered in blood. ugh, this is too much hassle. this doesn’t make any sense!” he tosses an annoyed sigh into quietness of the room, moaning in surprise when you cup the base of nagi’s neck to pull his head up to face you and your eyes meet.

“you need a break seishiro, we can come back to this later,” you hum, the vibrations of your voice laced with sex appeal. as he swallows thickly, the law student’s Adam’s apple bobs under the pressure of your fairy-light grip on his throat — anticipating more from you. at this point, you’re half bent over him as he leans back in the chair, pink tongue slowly darting out to cover your lips in a spit shine. “how about it?” 

this feels so wrong. nagi’s cock stirring beneath his slacks at how good and kind you’re acting towards him. no one has ever gotten him this hot before — no one aside from reo. and you were still his teacher, by technicality, it would be wrong for nagi to even consider sucking your tongue down his throat. and yet, he can’t find it in himself to stop the temperature from rising between you, for falling into your dangerously salacious trap. 

“y-yeah,” he breathes deep when you squeeze his throat a little to test the waters. “i could do with a break.” 

“me too,” you gasp all too agreeably, bending the rest of the way down to capture seishiro’s lips in a searingly hot kiss. just as he wished you pry his mouth open with the tip of your curious tongue — pushing through his plush lips and curling around his own pink appendage. the lip lock is passionate, ravenous despite the mess and spit that you exchange. he chases your lips until he can’t breathe, sloppily accepting anything you give him, letting you lead where he can’t. 

he’s never done this before, not like this, not without reo. but in this moment, the silver-blonde doesn’t think he could ever go back to making out with his ex. not now that you’re the one kissing him. 

“i-i've never done any of this before.” the blonde gulps, swallowing down the copious amount of spit that builds on the palette of his tongue — looking into your eyes as a sense of hunger dawns on him, as if you’re the very meal he’s set to devour. “not without anyone that wasn’t—“

reo. 

sure they’d done stuff together. naughty touches here and there, hands ghosting over boxer briefs and fingers tweaking nipples (sei’s were especially sensitive because of the cute little piercings his ex insisted he get) — but nothing close to actual sex, nothing with a girl, nothing with someone like you. a burning heat, unlike anything nagi’s ever felt before, begins to brew in his lower stomach. his cock rises beneath his pants that suddenly feel all too tight.

nagi’s girth twitches against his thigh as your nails rake their way down his chest and slowly pop open the buttons of his crisply pressed white shirt. it heaves beneath his clothes — heart hammering against its calcium cage of his ribs. 

“i can tell, pretty boy.” you soothe him by purring into the shell of his ear, teeth tugging at the softness of his lobe. “but you’re a good kisser though. did reo teach you that?” your lips cascade down to his neck like a gentle flowing river at the same time that your hands delve below the belt to squeeze at seishiro’s swelling erection — testing the waters. 

his hips instinctively buck up into the warmth of your palm and a grin spreads across your plush lips at the feeling of his precum soaking his underwater and smearing across your fingers in thick, clingy webs. 

white and seedy and he’s nowhere close to cumming. almost like a little virgin. 

“have you ever done this before, seishiro?” 

the sound of his name, salaciously spelt out on his tongue, earns you a high pitched whine from nagi — his head rolling to the side and his thighs squeezing together with vicious need. “n-no,” he pauses before he grunts out a response and his entire body seizes as you take a firmer grip on his cock — jamming a thumb into his leaky slit to spread his arousal. “but i wanted to i just… reo said not until marriage—“

“— you don’t have to listen to reo anymore.” you announce breathily, setting a steady pace to your fist to jerk him off with. you’ve barely started and yet your hand is already glossed in a slight sheen of pre, soiling your knuckles from its viscousness. it’s so much for someone who’s never gone father than sloppy kisses and grinding while making out. it nurtures a certain seed of satisfaction in your chest to see him so messy so fast. “you can listen to me, sweet boy. do you want this… do you want it with me?” 

without letting go of the fat, drippy cock within your grasp — you shift to stand between the desk and nagi’s chair, shoving papers and court notes to the ground in your lustful haze. nagi thrusts lazily into your closed fist as if it’s instinct, following the sensation like a moth takes to a candle light. his grey eyes grow murky like a pond, swimming with desire for you and only you.

who was reo mikage to seishiro nagi? when there was an angel like you willing to feed this inexperienced man morsels of a heavenly pleasure he’s never felt before. the lawyer in training nods at your words like an eager man fallen to siren’s song as bait. “i want you,” he whimpers airily. “i wanna with you.” 

you rub down his thick, lengthy dick far enough to have your fingertips briefly brush against seishiro’s sensitive, weightly balls — just pulsing full of seed to give to you. the feeling makes nagi jump up from his seat so that he immediately towers over you. his height doesn’t overwhelm you, not when the towering blonde collapses onto you with a case of the shakes. he trembles above you, supporting himself by using one hand on the table while is mouth sloppily finds your neck to suck on and pacify himself.

“good boy, sei,” you coo, voice as sweet as hot sugar or candy. “i want you too. i always have. you’re such a pure, darling boy. glad to see that it’s true.” your praise is hidden in your soft moans as seishiro licks at the crystalline salt on your bare skin. you’re a little too twisted, taking advantage of his inexperience and his position beneath you as a student, but neither of you seem to care in this very moment. 

sweat beads against nagi’s hairline like diamonds on an expensive Chanel necklace and roses bloom across his cheeks with exertion — his hips rise and fall into your sticky fist in fluid motions, changing the steady stream of ecstasy you provide him. your hand is a solace for his aching cock, but you still make your student work for it. make nagi chase you since he only works hard for the things he wants. and right now, he wants to reach the end of the tight rope of pleasure you have him walking on. and to stave off the stormy frustration he feels from the case.

your hand wriggles it’s way into his wet silver locks, dragging nagi’s hungry mouth over yours since he’s so desperate to taste you, to have at you. it shows in the way he roughly grabs your hips too, grip so tight it threatens to leave bruises he’ll have to apologise for later. “ngh… please. g-god. miss…a-angel please,” he stutters, his bucking into your hand faster and harder, back and forth, back and forth through the tight ring of your fist. his bright and angry red cockhead peeks through the other side, glazed in opaque white — it’s a nice feeling, blistering hot and sensitive. “i…hah… gotta—“

nagi’s lashes flutter against your cheek — a strained whine reverbing in the base of his throat while you let him fuck your hands to his heart’s content, let him chase this new pleasure he’s never known. let him fall from the high heavens with blackened and burnt angel’s wings. you make him sin, for the first time ever. something about this should feel off to nagi, his law teacher taking advantage of him like this — but at this point, he’s too far gone, drowning in a hellfire of lust. 

mocking his moans, your mouth falls open in one of your own as you follow along with the pitiful expressions crossing the contours of seishirou’s face. “what is it, sei? what do you need?”

the room is too hot. your bodies against each other are temperate in the sex tainted air — accompanied by wet slapping sounds from your hand around his throbbing cock. “n-need to let go. it h-hurts,” he sniffles out, forcing his tongue into your mouth again to calm himself down. the more you speed up, remorselessly jerking him off, the closer nagi gets to the end of his own tether. this sensation is unfamiliar, the crumbling foundation of his orgasm coming crashing down as you fling droplets of his precum and arousal about the place — some of it landing on your clothes, the desk and discarded papers. 

again, neither of you care. 

“surrender to me baby, it’s okay. i’ve got you.” guiding the pale blonde through his first ever orgasm, you pour your heated words into his slobbering mouth — tongue running over his pearly white teeth and tangling with his drool coated tongue. that’s all sei needs to hear before he crumples against you with a shout — the first wave of his high crashing over him and pulling him under. 

it’s world shattering, brain melting as he cums. his abdomen contracts under your never-ending touch, ropes of hot white dribbling from his stimulated tip like a tap that keeps running. nagi swears he almost blacks out, falling dizzy and victim to your lustful charms as he twitches and cums and cums into your soiled palm. 

“f-fuck,” a soft whimper bubbles up on his raw bitten lips, stuttered out in suprise. “w-what was that?” 

“you orgasmed for me, sei, so pretty baby.” comes another set of your gentle praises. he feels his entire body wrack with a shakes at your words, his cock doesn’t dare to soften either. “you look so good when you cum.” 

his greyish-brownish eyes roll back into his skull when you let him go, his tip slapping against his clothed tummy. the brush of his cotton shirt against the slit on his tip makes him writhe from the sensitivity. “c-can i cum for you again? promise i’ll keep being good.” 

“of course,” you grin, proud that to have corrupted the poor boy. “are you okay to let me touch you again or do you want it now?” 

“touch me. now.” he growls, gripping your hand and guiding it towards his dribbling shaft, aiding the movement of your palm around him to start slow and lazy — working seishiro up into a heat once more. this time, the way your hand languidly jerks him off is made smooth by the evidence of his last orgasm, which you now use as lube. if you weren’t pressed for time and with a court case first thing tomorrow, you would have gotten onto your knees to clean up his copious amounts of mess. 

you quickly reduce him to a babbling mess against you, drool laden on his tongue and dripping onto his skin as you drive your thumb over nagi’s hot tip in tight circles with your free hand — touching what doesn’t fit in the other. “reo treated you so badly, poor baby,” you mewl sweetly, kitten licking at his pulse point just below his neck. “you work so hard, you deserve so much better. you deserve me.” 

he believes you, blindly and naively. nodding tenderly despite the way he widely fucks both of your hands as if they’re a makeshift hole — warm and slick, all for him. dopamine shocks him at the stem of his brain, spreading throughout his body like a wildfire only you can tame — it burns so good and  feels even better to have your dainty, perfectly manicured fingers wrap around his chubby girth so deliciously.

for a moment, you let seishiro go to squeeze at his heavy breeder’s balls — noticing the way they pulsate in your palm to signify the pale blonde’s second impending orgasm. “i think…hah… i think ‘m gonna… c-cum! again!”

pushing at his shirt, you press a kiss to the creamy skin of nagi’s shoulder and hum pridefully. “thank you for letting me know, sweetheart. cum for me. give it to me.”

with your permission granted, another blinding ecstasy takes over nagi, and he falls victim to you and your merciless hands once again. blood rushes through his ears like a storm surge, drowning at your angel coos while you guide him through his high, never letting up as you palm him through it all. he quivers and his knees buckle, shooting a hot and hefty load of seed all over your hand and clothes and the papers nearby.  “o-oh! fuck…” nagi chokes on a weak sob, bleating like an innocent lamb at the slaughter house while he weighed against your shorter frame — allowing you to bare the brunt of his weight and height. 

he’s so pretty when he cums, silvering blonde locks matted to his forehead by sweat — cheeks pink and lips swollen and red. if you could, you’d swallow him whole and selfishly devour your student for all that he has to offer. silly little blonde, stupid for trusting you, for wanting to fuck you.

your hand doesn’t slow around his pulsing cock but instead speeds up, digging your thumb into his oozing slit as arousal pearls at its centre once more. “n-no, s’too much.” seishiro cries quietly, tears stinging a pathway down the apples of his milky cheeks. “it hurts.” 

“poor you, poor baby.” you say harshly, mocking the poor blonde’s sniffles and hiccups. he’s exhausted and frustrated but doesn’t dare to pull away — his hips running after your hand hungrily. “you’re so cute sei, panting for me like a bitch in heat, fucking my hand like the dumb little blonde you are.” he hisses at the overstimulation, gargles on spit as it floods his mouth to accompany his appetite for you. 

“i’m not…ngh… ‘m not dumb.” he whinges in response and before either of you know it, seishiro is cumming again. hard. soiling his lap with abundant amounts of white. his chest heaves as he comes down, collapsing against you. he might deny it later, but being dumbed down and reduced to a stupid blonde seemed to really do it for him. 

finding his lips again, you soothe nagi with short and sweet kisses that grow more feverish by his own demand. all of a sudden you find yourself pinned to the desk below with the tall blonde between your instinctually parted legs so that he can grind against your panty clad core. “you’re…you’re right,” you say, breathing deep through your nose as your composure threatens to fall apart. “you’re so smart, sei. you’re the best lawyer on our team but…” bucking your hips once, you lower your voice by an octave so that your words slip through his ears like molten chocolate. “you’re acting like a dumb slut right now. don’t you wanna be my dumb slut, sei?”

his palm flattens against the mahogany desk just above your head, caging you in against its cold surface. “y-yes i do, oh fuck. please lemme fuck you. lemme be inside. i’ll be good.” 

“are you sure, baby?” 

“please—“ 

“but sei,” you brush a stray hair that curls at the centre of his forehead, the dumb blonde looking down at you with swimming grey eyes because he’s so needy. “it’d be your first time…” 

his face scrunches, nose crinkled at its bridge and brows knitted together in frustration. now that nagi’s had a taste of your sinful elixir he can’t seem to stop, you’re like a drug an addict can’t quit. something that could ruin his life or future prospects if he doesn’t get help. and yet he can’t look away, can’t pull his body away from yours and his achy dick from between your thighs — instead leaning closer so that it sinks between your plush pussy lips. 

nagi licks his lips, tongue rolling over his bottom one as he pants desperately. “please angel,” comes his broken beg, hanging pathetically in the sex tainted hair. “i need you. need it so bad. please please please— mph—!”

satisfied with his begging, you shove a set of cum soaked digits past the swell of seishiro’s pretty lips — chuckling darkly as his tongue laps over and in between them, and he whines at the salty taste of his arousal on your skin. “atta boy,” you coo, thrusting deep into the hot cavern of his mouth until the pale blonde gags around you, swallowing your fingers down like they’re a cock. he sucks so obediently, so desperately as if to please. like a good student too — and all the while, you work on kicking off your panties and flipping up your skirt so that he can get a nice rewarding view of your glistening cunt. 

“c’mere,” you reach out to the blonde and he leans into you, letting you wrap an arm around his shoulders to keep him in place. “sei,” you gasp at the first contact of his thick, long shaft against your throbbing wet mound — mouth agape as if you’ve taken a gunshot wound to the chest. “do you know how to do this, smart boy? do you know how to fuck?”

nagi nods, pressing his forehead to yours while his hips jut forward on their own and his seedy tip brushes against your pearling clit so deliciously. at first, his movements are lax and the room is filled with the lewd squelches of your sexes moving over one another, but your breathing soon grows ragged and the salacious bump and grind becomes stickier and wetter. 

“u-uhuh.” he mumbles in response.

he’s so good for you even when his mouth is full and his mind is dazed, sucking on your fingers while he lets you overwhelm him. however, the blonde is only so well behaved and patient, and it’s not long before he slips his girth past the tight ring of your entrance without any warning. his fingertips dance up to your waist, grabbing at the fat there and using it as leverage to drag you to the edge of the table so he can sink into you further.

“oh…fucking hell!” you whimper wetly against the junction of nagi’s neck, nails digging into his shoulders to steady yourself while he sets the pace to your sinful dance. he’s bigger than what you expected (despite mapping his girth out with your hands), stretching your sloppy walls wide to accommodate for his size. you don’t complain, however, eyes rolling as he brushes up against pleasure spots you could never reach on your own. “o-oh baby, fuck me.” 

you pull your fingers out of his mouth with a lewd pop, desperate to hear the symphony of his sweet, low and sexy moans instead of having them muffled by your fingers while he fucks you for the first time. the pale blonde can hardly believe it — having your warmth wrapped around him and your cunt drool down on him like a waterfall. 

the law student throws his weight into fucking you, bullying his way into the deepest parts of your womb to slothfully fuck up your gooey insides. your cunt, your moans, your whole body has some kind of control over nagi — dumbing him down and reducing him to a sex crazed mess. to the point where he can’t even remember his ex’s name. he’s a mop of pale blonde hair and sweaty clothes, entirely hunched over you. 

“y-you’re so tight,” he tells you in a dreamy sigh, lost in the heat of your core. nagi’s grabs at your pudgy thighs and drags you back and forth onto his dick, the new deepness to his thrusts causing you to squeeze and froth around the fat base of nagi’s cock. “hah, feels so…so good.” 

wrapping your shaky legs around his slender waist, you offer up the same treatment to nagi — pulling him close to the point where he’s buried in your sluice sex right up to the hilt. his precum smears against your ribbed walls and his broken whimper echoes around your hotel room. “that’s it, fuck me like you fucked my hand, sweet boy.” lust sparks against your sex slicked bodies, your breasts bouncing with every one of nagi’s calculated yet sloppy thrusts. you can’t get enough of one another, clinging and clawing at one another’s bodies madly. “you can do it, prove to reo that you don’t need him. only me.” 

“o-only you.” nagi repeats weakly, tucking his face into your neck as he pounds you to the high heavens. the desk creaks beneath the force of his thrusts, threatening to break at the nails and bolts that hold it together. his eyelashes flutter against your skin, his low and deep moans mixed with high pitched gasps send a hot rush of dopamine across your brain and it really is all too much. 

nagi’s already cum three times and managed to fold you in half over his desk as a virgin. he feel as though he might break with how much he loves this, loves fucking you senseless. another fresh set of tears burn tracks down his face and gather in his unfairly long lashes as they tickle your skin. he hiccups and heaves against you, whilst his breathing grows ragged every time his glistening cock escapes the snugness of your tight pussy, precum stringing along your puffy folds. 

“so good baby, s-so fucking good!” your voice is broken and husky as you praise him, making his dick pulse against your g-spot over and over again. you’re fairing no better than he is, your skin blistering hot to the touch and bruised from how tight your student is gripping you — pulling you back onto his cock.

the pale blonde feels though he might burst, cream your insides like he did your hand and ruin that pretty skirt of yours — the one that sticks to his pelvis because of how close your bodies are. it’s rubbed him raw while he fucks you raw. “‘m i the best?” seishiro asks, cherishing the embrace of your viscous walls, his shaft coated in a crude mix of white as it froths from your tight little hole. “t-tell me i’m the best…” 

“t-the best i’ve ever had! f-fuck, sei!” you squeal in response, only egging the law student on, babbling your praises while fat droplets of your arousal flies about the place — painting nagi’s pelvis in a shiny gloss, curling in his white happy trail as well. 

“‘m the best. i’m the best for you.” grunting from the exertion and the very force of his own thrusts, seishiro wraps both of his strong arms around your middle and stands up from the table — taking you with him. at the new angle, the coil in your stomach only tightens and you fling your arms around his neck to prepare yourself for what’s to come next. “s’not enough, not deep enough. fuuuck you’re so wet and warm. i-i can’t,” he drawls lowly, nipping at the shell of your ear on instinct. 

that’s when seishiro begins to use his sheer strength to lift and drop you back onto his thick girth, fucking up into you at the exact same time. “g-good god!” you cry out, your impending orgasm prickling at your pelvis — shooting down each section of your spine. all of it only serves to spur nagi on. 

“give me your fingers,” he demands huskily, cantering into you from bellow — your juices running a steamy track down his heavy balls as they harshly smack against your peachy ass. “wan’ suck on ‘em. give ‘em.”

you don’t have time to register his ask because he grabs your wrist before your mind can even catch up (too occupied with the way he’s churning up your guts) and has two of your fingers in his eager little mouth — sucking on them diligently. you shudder as nagi runs his tongue between them, coats them in spit and drool that tracks across his chin once he’s done with them. 

“touch yourself for me?” he pleads through a wet whine, almost too innocently. “wanna see you cum this time.” 

it’s only then that you realise he’s been holding himself back, staving off his orgasm so he can see you writhe and gush all for him. the overstimulation must be burning at his brain, sizzling off his nerve endings and it’s probably more than the dumb little blonde virgin can take. so you do as he asks, trailing your spit slicked fingers between your bodies as they grind down on one another and you with your sensitive clit, pulling its hood back to draw tight circles over the pleasure nub. 

“o-oh! seishiro!” 

“that’s right, touch yourself f’me. wanna see you lose it like you make me lose it,” he moans softly constraining with how rough nagi pounds up into you. one of his hands slips from your hips to grope at your ass, pushing you down on him and forcing his cock to grind against that one special spot threatening to make you break. “‘m sorry,” he whimpers as though he’s going to cry. “d-don’t think i can hold back, angel.” 

“then don’t,” you gasp at the new friction, holding onto your last strings of sanity as you fumble with your clit tucked away between your ravaged folds. “i know you wanna cum for me, sei. l-let go, yeah? wanna see you break for me, like a good blonde slut.” 

your encouragement doesn’t give seishiro much choice, and while he’s in control of your bodies — his lean, strong frame anchoring you down onto his cock as it bullies your insides, you are in control of his mind. you destroy his train of thought, ruin the self-made man he was and send him tumbling into his final high. nagi’s orgasm breaks the surface viciously, pouring another load of his cum against your ripe and rippling walls. there’s still so much of it, the warm and viscous white seeping from your cunt and smearing all over your hot mound. 

the force of nagi’s high is so strong that he nearly drops you, just about managing to pin you safely to the desk once more. he’s still cumming and cumming and cumming — but that doesn’t stop him from thrusting into you hard and fast, desperate to trigger your orgasm so he can reward himself. it doesn’t take long, he’d already had you seated on the edge before his mind had shattered to pieces just from fucking you. 

you gush down his length and all over what remains of your shitty case notes (he probably didn’t need them anyways) with a pornographic shout when you finally hit your peak. it’s like the crescendo of a beautiful song — the world around you spinning and flashing white as you squirt and gush for the white haired lawyer. 

“f-fuck.” you giggle with a soft smile, fatigue washing over the both of you come down from the gates of heaven — crashing back down to earth with ecstasy still buzzing in your veins. “good boy, sei. you did so good for me,” you hum softly. “do you feel any better?” 

seishiro looks up at you from where his heavy frame has collapsed on your chest — clothes sweaty and askew, and offers you a lazy grin in return. “better,” he mumbles meekly and kisses a slither of your exposed skin, still grinding his seed into you as if to make sure it sticks. “thank you.” 

bringing a hand up to toy with his hair and soothing him, you nod. “good, we should get some rest, you’ve got a big trial tomorrow, pretty boy.” 

“do you think I can do it?” 

“i know you can, sei.” you scratch at his scalp. “i meant it. what i said earlier. you’re the best lawyer on our team. shidou’s defence stands a pretty good chance.” 

nagi grins once more, only this time he leans up to press a chaste kiss to your unexpecting mouth — pouring all of his gratefulness into it. 

because thanks to you, he feels more confident about the trial, — almost as if he’s won the trial already. and even if nagi goes lose, at least he’s won you over.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

As if I wasn't already exhausted enough this morning...

It's been brought to my attention that people are taking my fanfics, editing them, and sharing them around. I don't have the words to describe how not okay this is. If you don't like something about my fanfic, then I'm sorry to hear that, but there are a lot of other fics out there you can read instead.

I put time and effort and care into my writing, as does every writer. To take my work without permission and change it feels like someone just punched me in the gut. Frankly it makes me not want to share my work at all and to take down all the writing I do have up, because why should I share anything with people if all they're going to do is decide it's not good enough and they're going to do what they want with it and make it "better"?

And before anyone comes at me, this is not what a transformative work does. This is not the same as fanfiction. I'm fucking exhausted from working two eleven hour shifts over the weekend so my brain is not working so someone smarter and more articulate than I am can explain why. I'm tired.

This genuinely makes me want to take down all my works and not share anything new. It's very simple, kiddos: Don't like it? Don't read it. You will miss out on some fanfics that way, just like you'll miss out on some films, or books, or TV shows. I've missed out on really good fic, novels, films, etc, for the same reason. We all do. It's a part of life. Stuff will sometimes have things in it that you don't like. Skim those parts, fast-forward those scenes, grin and bear it, or just go and read/watch something else.

Normally I would make this post unrebloggable but I worry other writers in this fandom might experience the same thing and not realize it. So people are welcome to reblog this. Anyone who's an ass on it will be blocked, no second chances.

Just. Don't do this guys. Holy shit don't do this. What the actual fuck.

[jnnul]

mr. brawn and ms. brain

sum: you hate athletes. eunseok is an athlete. eunseok is in love with you. it doesn't take a genius to see that there's an issue with this equation. after a one-sided love for the past three years, eunseok is saved when the two of you are partnered to work on an english project together. which means that eunseok's first step of getting you to fall in love with him is done. next step: get you to give him the time of day... word count: 9.6k a/n: hehe i've been working on this for so long i can't believe it's finally out lol i hope that you all enjoy reading this as much as i loved writing this! <3 someone teach me how to make visually pleasing banners. quick note: feedback, comments, etc. GREATLY encourage writers! if you felt any sort of way (in a good or bad way!) about this fic, pls leave feedback warnings: mentions of reader's insecurities, sungchan being a horrible/amazing friend, simp eunseok, uhh love :D

EUNSEOK SHOULD HAVE KNOWN THAT TRYING TO WRAP HIS MIND AROUND YOUR SHEER GENIUS WAS A BAD IDEA. you were just so much smarter than him; he didn't know why he thought that he could even comprehend the meaning behind your actions anymore.

at least, this is what song eunseok gathers from your animated gestures and anger stained tone as you continue to motion at eunseok semi-offensively.

he's only half-listening (he's perfected the art of the blank stare) and you know that he's not listening too. but eunseok figures that if yelling at him to your heart's content is what would make you feel better, then he was glad to be your not-really listening ear.

"...and you know that i can't do it all on my own!" you yell finally, your distress coming to a climax. eunseok winces when your voice reaches a decibel he didn't know to be humanly possible. your chest is heaving and eunseok, from this, is now well aware that you're upset the fact you had to work on the partner project by yourself last night.

but he didn't know how else to explain to you that he had a soccer match last night that he couldn't just skip out to work on the project - even if it was a project that would more or less determine his grade in the class.

your arms are crossed against your torso, eyebrows furrowed as you wait for eunseok to say something. he's sat in front of you, looking akin to a statue, while you're standing up, glaring down at him and from this angle, eunseok is once again reminded of just why he lets you get away with saying pretty much anything to him.

eunseok is so incredibly in love with you that it takes every fiber of his being from telling you that any time the two of you were together. which was less often than he wanted but more often than you had had in the past so he was willing to take the wins he could get at this point.

"so you want me to the work on the project, that's it, right?" he says slowly and you damn near want to strangle him in that moment. you knew that eunseok wasn't dumb and that he had only sat through your entire lecture because you weren't going to let him hear the end of it anyway but would it kill him to at least pretend like he was remorseful?

"yes," you say finally, with an exasperated sigh. "i just want you to work on the project with me."

the corner of eunseok's lips twitch imperceptibly upwards in a soft smile before it disappears, bringing him back to his much more familiar bored expression. i just want you to work on the project with me.

that had to mean something, right? you wouldn't add the 'with me' without any particular reason, right? you actually meant to indicate something with that 'with me', right?

in all honesty, you're hadn't thought of what you were saying all that hard and had just said everything that came to mind in an attempt to rid yourself of your anger and eunseok knows that as well.

he's been in love with you for long enough to know that you didn't actually mean anything when he formed these delusions on his own but he couldn't help himself.

eunseok has loved you since the moment he saw you sitting inside the classroom, earbuds in your ears as you flipped through your notebook filled with notes while he was outside on the soccer field, squinting up at you against the relentless sun, three years ago.

he wasn't sure what it was. at first, he was sure that it was just the chase. the classic 'unattainable' trope where he was only attracted to you because of the challenge that you presented to him.

but it was strange.

eunseok wasn't a really big fan of cheesy clichés or overplayed poetry about something that he was sure didn't exist anymore but everything had changed when he saw you.

your looks, face, beauty - none of that seemed to be what clicked within him. the moment that you turned your head to peer out the window, your eyes landing on his, it was like his entire soul was breathing a sigh of relief.

if eunseok was any less of a realist, he would've genuinely believed that the two of you were soul tied lovers from previous lives.

the only issue was that eunseok was pretty sure his soulmate would give him the time of day. which you pretty much refused to do. it was like you were allergic to his type or something.

you kept to yourself in general, and didn't really have many friends but at the very least, you were friendly enough to those around you. no one really had anything bad to say about you bar the fact that you never allowed anyone to overtake you on your throne seated comfortably as number one in the whole school.

except for eunseok's friends. they all knew about eunseok's hopeless love for you and for the life of them could not understand why. you barely glanced in his direction in general, and seemed to always glare at any round object that could be used for a sport - and those who carried said offending objects.

which naturally meant that eunseok and the rest of his friends (all of whom unfortunately played some sport or another) were blacklisted by you.

he'd been curious at first why you had so much prejudice against sports and then one time, had seen you be forced to run laps around the field. needless to say, after he saw you nearly trip and fall on your face at least four times in one lap, he was vaguely aware of what prompted you to stay as far away from such activities as possible.

in fact, eunseok was relatively sure that he was going to have to graduate high school without ever actually having a proper conversation. until the fateful day that your english professor had assigned you and eunseok to work on the same project together for a final grade.

it was a simple research paper, but both of you had to submit outlines and drafts that showed how much you each contributed to the project, as well as how much of the project was done with each other - all of which contributed to your grade.

eunseok had thought that this was it! this would be his in!

he was wrong. to be honest, eunseok could count on one hand the number of conversations he'd had with you after starting work on the project together. and could count without any fingers the number of those conversations that were about anything other than project division.

which is why, when you're standing here, arms crossed against your heaving chest and looking at him with those eyes, eunseok has nothing running in his mind other than just how much he wants you to know what he feels.

"eunseok! are you even listening to me anymore?" you ask, waving a hand in his face. eunseok blinks before clearing his throat. he reaches out a long arm to pull out a chair in the desk next to his and indicates for you to sit down on it.

you eye the chair warily before sitting down, folding your skirt underneath your thighs as you sit gingerly, as if you were expecting it to explode.

the sight would normally make eunseok just roll his eyes for anyone else but with you, it makes him smile.

"okay, i'm sorry. with the game last night, i forgot to my part for the draft due friday. but i promise, i'm still going to make it up to you and finish all of the stuff i needed to do as soon as possible," eunseok says. you watch him for a moment before nodding and moving to get up out of the chair as eunseok rushes to come up with some reasoning to get you to stay with him a little longer.

"although, are you sure you're going to be able to finish the section by yourself? i had some issues with the first half of pride and prejudice because of the characterization and the time period," you say, although the last half of your thought seems to be much more reluctant than the first half, as if you didn't want to admit that you had any academic weaknesses to eunseok.

but eunseok barely pays it any mind, jumping on the opportunity as soon as he recognizes it. "oh...yeah, honestly i don't know if i can do it by myself. since we both have access to the late night study room anyway, do you wanna finish it together tonight?"

eunseok watches as the gears turn in your head, bottom lip caught between your teeth as you debate the possibilities in your mind. and even as you do, he tries to control the erratic beating of his heart at the chance of spending so much time with you.

if he could explain his feelings to anyone, which eunseok was not gifted with the vocabulary of attempting to do so, he was sure that they would ask if he was ripped straight from the novel the two of you were assigned to work on.

to be honest, eunseok thinks as he rests his temple against the heel of his palm, watching as you pull out a timetable and consult it with utmost seriousness, even he found it kinda silly.

well, not silly as in his crush on you was dumb per se (although, there were times where he realized just how unfounded his feelings truly were). more silly like i didn't even know these kinds of feelings could still exist in people.

silly like how a child discovering the world for the first time might be - awkward in their gait but curiosity shining brightly in their eyes, learning how to be human for the first time.

he knows that his whole 'true love' or 'soulmate' semantics were not for the weak of heart - and most definitely not for those who were too embroiled in the 'love' of today's day and age. but he couldn't bring himself to care.

it made him want to be a better person for you. to be the man that you would glance at in more than just passing. to be worthy of your love.

"alright. i'm scheduled for an english tutoring session but i'll ask them to meet me tomorrow instead. maybe i can use some of the stuff that we learn during our project," you say with a sigh, crossing out some of the timings written in your schedule and rearranging them.

eunseok's eyebrows furrow. "you take tutoring lessons? oh, like a private tutor?"

you eye eunseok strangely, as if you weren't sure if he was making a joke or not.

"no...i teach people. i tutor for english, mathematics, and some other subjects as well. it's how i'm adding to my resumé." the chair makes an awful noise when you push it back to stand up.

"oh," eunseok says. resumé? for what? college admissions? god, he really needed to start getting ready for that. his csat score was not high enough for him to even dream about getting into a good enough school for you to recognize him.

or, you know, secure brighter future in such a competitive job market. but that was mostly secondary.

"yeah. so..." you trail off awkwardly, toeing the ground with your arms behind your back. the sight of you being awkward or unsure of yourself was foreign to eunseok but nonetheless endearing.

"yeah. so i'll see you tonight then? after classes end?" eunseok prompts you and you seem to snap out of whatever reverie your mind was in.

"mhm." it's absent-minded and almost an afterthought, as you make your way out of the classroom, pausing at the door to look at him before leaving.

+++

classes end a couple of hours later, and eunseok is left waiting anxiously in the study rooms.

you'd agreed to meet after classes but eunseok realizes that he'd never asked for a specific time or your number to communicate with you, meaning that he'd been stuck in the study rooms for the past hour, unsure if and when you were going to show up.

eunseok had been productive with his time, of course. he'd tucked away the soccer ball he'd brought to school into one of the lockers in the back and popped a breath mint. not for any particular reason, but he didn't want you to think of him in the stereotypical 'jock who doesn't partake in hygiene'.

he'd even tried to make progress on the pride and prejudice chapters he'd been assigned (by you) to write about, only to give up three sentences in.

the one thing that eunseok had done incorrectly, however, was drinking too much water. see, eunseok had a strange habit of chugging water every time he got nervous. needless to say, about an hour of sheer anxiety of when you were going to show up made him down the whole waterbottle.

which was not good because now, eunseok had to relieve himself and you were still nowhere to be seen. and he couldn't just go use the restroom and come back because he was pretty sure you'd just leave and assume that he bailed on you if he left his post in the study rooms.

eunseok paces around the room, hoping that time would move faster if he moved faster (time-space was in same dimension after all, so technically...). he's taken about twenty-three laps around the study room when he finally hears the door click open and you enter the study room somewhat cautiously, looking worse for wear.

"I'LL BE RIGHT BACK!" eunseok manages to holler before sprinting out of the study room, not wanting to look back and see your undoubtedly bewildered face as he makes a mad dash for the men's restrooms.

it's not until eunseok finally relieves himself, washing his hands in the sink that was lower than his hips that he realizes what he'd just done.

eunseok berates himself more than once or twice in the bathroom, pacing back and forth once more when he realizes just how much of an idiot he must've looked like as he sprinted out of the room like a crazy man.

"it's ok. it's ok! having to use the restroom is natural! everyone needs to! it's not like y/n doesn't, right? don't worry, you look fine. you're so hot, she'll forget it happened."

you didn't forget. when eunseok slinked back into the study room, you can barely keep the silly smile off your face, trying your best to look understanding and apologetic instead.

"i'm - i'm so sorry for coming late eunseok. i heard there was soccer practice today so i figured you'd be late and decided to help mrs. kim with creating the study set for the upcoming math test," you explain, unable to keep the lighthearted giggle out of your voice.

eunseok offers an embarrassed half-grin as he waves you off.

"don't worry, i wasn't waiting long. i just got here too. uh, i asked coach to cancel practice since both captains wouldn't be able to make it," eunseok says, looking busily through his backpack in an effort to prevent you from looking at his red face.

"you asked the coach to cancel practice?" you ask incredulously and eunseok tries his best to act nonchalant.

"yeah. i mean, you're right after all. academics are more important than sports - it's not like i plan on going pro or anything so i figured that i should sit down and make some headway on this project," eunseok says with a shrug, and it brings him a strange sense of satisfaction when you glance at him as though you were suddenly looking at him for the first time.

"you don't plan on playing in college? i mean i've heard that you're good enough for it," you say, and you sound genuinely curious, rearranging the books in front of you.

"i mean i plan on playing in college but i can't exactly get into college just on sports. i'm not that good. i still need to have good grades and scores to get in," eunseok says and you frown, deep in thought, but eunseok can tell that it's not in a bad or malicious way.

"i'd never thought you would care that much about school," you say softly and eunseok can't help but shoot you a lopsided grin.

"we're not all just dumb jocks, y/n," he responds, his voice just as soft and he realizes just how much he likes the taste of your name on his tongue.

"yeah. i guess so," you say finally, offering him a small smile.

eunseok thinks he can die happy when he sees it.

+++

the two of you don't become best friends over the next couple weeks. in fact, you still don't have too many conversations with him other than about the project, but it's more than eunseok has been awarded with before.

you talk to him in between classes now, when you see him in the hallways, and ask him about soccer practice. eunseok always blushes, casting his eyes towards the windows so that he had something to look at other than your intelligent and probing eyes.

he even sees you wave at him during soccer practice, when you're headed out early for tutoring and eunseok nearly dies of heart attack, tripping over himself as he rushes to wave back.

wonbin didn't let him live that down for a full week after the incident occurred, laughing and waving in exaggerated motions every time he saw eunseok.

he even went as far as going up to you and asking you to come to one of the upcoming soccer matches, all in the name of good fun.

eunseok had had to literally tackle wonbin to the floor in order to keep him from spilling any vital information ("please come to the soccer match because our captain has been crushing on you since his first year and we can't see him like this anymore.") but it was clear that the message came through incorrectly.

"you don't want me to come to your match that much? i thought we were better friends than that, eunseok," you said with a frown, and eunseok had to scramble to his feet, kicking wonbin with his foot.

"no - no! it's not that. i do really want you to come to our soccer match. but i kinda wanted to be the one to ask you. you know, because you're so busy all the time and i thought you might say yes if i asked rather than this idiot," eunseok had explained, tripping over his words in an attempt to make sure that he didn't hurt your emotions.

you'd stared up at him, your face unreadable. that was the one thing that eunseok didn't like about you - he could never truly predict exactly what you were thinking unless you said it out loud. you were infamous for your poker face and it made eunseok incredibly nervous.

little did he know that that was the exact reason that eunseok made you nervous.

"i'll come if i have time," you had said simply, turning on your heel to flounce away.

"you're an idiot but goddamnit, i love you wonbin," eunseok had said, descending onto the right wing to tackle him to the floor once more with a hug.

"alright! i get it! get off of me, cap!" wonbin said, pawing at eunseok's arms to relieve himself from the bearhug he was trapped in. he'd just laughed, wrapping his arms around wonbin even tighter.

which brought eunseok to his current predicament.

not only had you come to the match, but you'd brought some of your friends with you. eunseok doesn't really recognize any of them but by the way that you're laughing as you're talking to them, eunseok figures that that you must be pretty close.

"if you could stop staring at the love of your life and finish warm-up drills, that would be great, cap," wonbin says and eunseok shivers, startled by the right wing's sudden presence.

"yeah. uh, team! keep up the drills for just two more minutes before debriefing," eunseok yells, finally forcing his head away from your direction to face his team.

"i invited her because i wanted to give you a chance to impress yourself in front of her. don't make this rare opportunity into a mess," wonbin suggests with a smirk, saluting to eunseok as he ran to sungchan to finish the last few drills with him.

"that brat. and he still wants to be captain next year," eunseok grumbles under his breath, begrudgingly joining the rest of the team. as much as he hated to admit it, wonbin was right.

getting you to come to this match was already more than eunseok had ever had in the past; there was no way that he was going to let himself fuck this up. that would be so incredibly embarrassing.

"alright!" eunseok shouts, clapping his hands and waiting for the team to huddle around him. "i don't need to remind anyone that just because our team has been doing well, we still need to play at our best, right? you all know how to play soccer so just do what you've been doing and don't let it get to your head. good and bad plays both."

he extends his hand out to the center of their huddle, and the rest of the team also extends their hands, chanting their school's soccer cheer before dispersing to discard any extra gear or possessions.

eunseok looks one last time to where you were sitting, just as a quick 'good luck glance' and he's startled to see you already staring back at him. you cock your head and smile slightly, offering him a thumbs up and eunseok feels as though he'd already won the match.

"seok, i've got an idea," sungchan, eunseok's fellow captain and one of his closest friend says, slinging an arm around his shoulders.

"what bullshit are you stirring up now?" eunseok says, his voice flat and unimpressed. sungchan grabs his chest where his heart was, as though he'd been shot, dramatically stumbling backwards.

"here i am, offering to relieve you of your pining and you say i'm stirring up bullshit," sungchan gasps. eunseok rolls his eyes, grabbing sungchan's jersey to pull him forward.

"what? match is starting soon," eunseok says, unable to keep the smile out of his voice.

"i'll make a bet with you," sungchan says. "if i score more goals than you do, you have to ask out y/n. but if you score more goals than i do, then you don't have to."

"this feels like a stupid bet. i'm not doing it," eunseok says, but he can already feel himself being swayed. he'd liked you for so long - at this point, he was just looking for the slightest push in the right direction to ask you out.

"alright fine. you don't have to. y/n's pretty cute, honestly, and she's hella smart too. so i'll make you a different deal. if i score more goals, i ask her out. if you score more goals, i won't ask her out," sungchan says, a devilish smile on his face.

eunseok's eyes look as though they'd burn sungchan to smithereens if they could but sungchan barely shivers, offering him a shit-eating grin and turning to blow a kiss to you.

"what the fuck? i should've known that you were up to something stupid," eunseok growls. "why the hell would you ask her out?"

"it's only an issue if i score more goals than you, right?" sungchan says, jogging backwards to join the team again, never breaking eye contact with eunseok.

eunseok knew that sungchan was a loyal friend and there was no way in hell that he was going to ask you out - even as a joke or as a push to get eunseok to confess his feelings - but eunseok was pissed. the idea of someone else confessing to you before he ever did made him see red.

the team barely sees eunseok the whole match. which is strange, because he's in for the entire match, but they barely even see him, his red uniform appearing as streaks up and down the field. he scores goal after goal, running towards the goalpost at speeds they'd never see the usually laidback captain move at.

and sungchan was no better than him. although his heart wasn't in it nearly as much, sungchan was hot on eunseok's heels, the two of them on opposite ends of the field and being the two people that the team relied on the most the entire match, carrying the entire team to victory.

which is why when the scoreboard reads 5 - 0, the team is shocked, but sungchan just has that stupid grin on his face. not only had eunseok scored one more goal than sungchan, he'd also gone mad, ensuring that the opposing team didn't score a single goal.

"what the hell did you do to cap?" wonbin asks sungchan, and the older boy just nods in your general direction.

"gave him the push he's been needing," he says, smirking with satisfaction when he sees eunseok jogging over to where you were sitting, after shaking hands with the opposing team and thanking the referees.

"thanks for coming, y/n," eunseok says, out of breath and sweaty when he reaches to where you were sitting. "i honestly didn't think you were coming - since sports aren't really your thing."

"i promised i would come, didn't i?" you quip, and a shy smile overtakes your face, making eunseok having to use every single ounce of his willpower to keep from squealing at how cute he found you. your friends slowly start to file out to leave the two of you standing there - you in the bleachers and him on the field.

"hm, yeah, you did." eunseok's face turns contemplative and for some reason, you rush to fill the silence, in a way that you'd never felt compelled to do with anyone else before.

"i have to admit...i had more fun than i thought," you say, choking on the words as you get them out. eunseok's eyebrows ascend into his hairline - which would be hilarious if you weren't the reason that they were doing so.

"you had fun? y/n l/n? having fun? that too, at a soccer match?" eunseok says incredulously, throwing his hands on his chest dramatically. "well, i'll be!"

you roll your eyes, but you can't help the silly smile you can feel start to form on your lips.

"i can have fun, you know. i'm not always studying and boring everyone. even at soccer games where all i see is a ball go up and down and i have no clue what's happening. i think you did well, though, since everyone was chattering a lot about your performance," you say, adding the last part to appease eunseok for inviting you.

"i don't care about what people say," eunseok says easily, waving his hand in the air as if to physically rid himself of the thought of other people disturbing his mental wellbeing.

"y/n! you have to get going; your tutoring starts soon and mrs. im is always super mad when anyone's the slightest second late!" one of your friends calls out, coming closer to physically drag you away from eunseok if need be.

even his ugliest stare doesn't work on discouraging them from approaching the two of you and eunseok figures that he should work on a mean glare instead of a blank stare; the latter wasn't helping as much anymore now that everyone just assumed that's what his natural face looked like.

"alright, alright. i'm coming," you say, stepping down the stairs of the bleachers carefully, tripping on the last step. eunseok's arm shoots out before he can even think of what he's doing, catching you as you fall.

"thank you," you say breathlessly, and suddenly, eunseok worries that you can hear the erratic beating of his heart from just how close you were to each other, your chests quite nearly touching.

"you wanna hang out some time? maybe prove that the academic queen, school topper, ms. brain knows how to have some fun?" eunseok asks, and he can feel the blood rushing throughout his body as his adrenaline is at an all-time high.

he doesn't think that he was nearly this nervous or that his heart was even pumping this hard during this match. but now, as he's looking down at the most beautiful woman he's ever seen in eighteen years of life, he can't help but feel weak in the knees and just a little too stupidly hopeful.

"i'm sorry eunseok. i'm pretty busy nowadays. especially with new people that i've been tutoring. i don't even have too much time to study myself; i don't think i can afford to take too many breaks now," you explain, somewhat sorry and somewhat sullen.

eunseok tries to keep the heartbreak from showing on his face and he nods, almost too excitedly.

"oh yeah, i get it! no worries! i mean, you are the number one student in the school! you've gotta keep those grades up!" his voice sounds fake even to his own ears and your friend winces apologetically but you don't even seem phased, flashing him a sweet smile.

"we'll 'hang out' when we work on the project next monday though right?" you ask, and eunseok nods, a plastic smile on his face.

"yeah, of course," he says, and for some reason, he can't help but wonder if you knew just how great you were at letting people down. eunseok knew that you were beautiful but no one had ever dared to ask you out, for fear of the fact that they would come second to your academics.

it's hard to ask someone out when you know what the answer is.

"well, i'll get going now then. mrs. im seems like a real tiger mom and i have my first tutoring session with her son today," you say, wrapping your sweater a little bit tighter around your body as you wave goodbye, retreating into the foggy afternoon.

"how did it go, cap?" wonbin asks, a knowing grin on his face, ready to tease/congratulate his captain on his definite success in asking you out.

eunseok doesn't even turn away from watching your figure until he's just staring at empty space and fog before saying, "tell the team we're running laps."

wonbin balks, looking in your direction to see if you'd come to save them. "but we won, cap!"

"no, sungchan and i won. the team is running laps," eunseok grinds out and wonbin immediately retreats backwards, understanding the situation a bit too clearly.

he sets off into a sprint and the team is quick to follow when they see the confusing expression on their captain's face. there was a mix of shame, heartbreak, confusion, guilt, and even some anger on his face and the team was just going to have to take the brunt of his emotions for now. he had a valid point, after all.

you were none the wiser about the soccer team's struggles until your friend, kim minjeong, looks back to see her friend, park wonbin, running in repeated circles before the fog starts to cover the soccer field. she shoves her hands into the pockets of her sweater before shaking her head.

"you know that eunseok was asking you out, right?" she asks and you scoff, pushing her slightly.

"you're insane minjeong. i think that jekyll and hyde is finally getting to you," you jest slightly, referencing her english project. "why the hell would eunseok ask me out?"

"because he wants to spend time with you? because you're a fun person when people get to know you? because he likes you, i don't know!" minjeong exclaims, stopping dead in her tracks and throwing her hands up.

"no, that can't be true," you say, but when you turn to look at what minjeong was looking at, you find that your eyes search the field until they lock with eunseok's eyes, which are trained on you and he cocks his head, causing you to shiver and face forward.

"are you sure?" minjeong asks, looking back and forth between you and eunseok as you march forward determinedly.

"i'm sure. there's no way that eunseok likes me."

+++

you were sure that eunseok didn't like you. that was what you had told minjeong and ning yizhuo, another one of your good friends, when the two of them had confronted you again later. that's the truth, as far as you're aware.

that's what made the most sense too; why the hell would the ace soccer captain be any level of interested in a person who spent all of their time studying and tutoring? someone who was known to be a reserved and kind enough person but a complete hardass when it came to their academics?

yizhuo's words echo in your mind as you sit on your bed, having completed your nightly routine of taking your vitamins and doing your skincare.

he'd never ask you if he wasn't interested.

you hated when she was right. especially when it meant that you were wrong about something. most especially because it meant that you were being emotionally unaware of something.

you stare at your phone, as if staring at it long enough would produce the answers you're searching for - the same thing you'd been doing for the past half hour. you know that you should go to sleep soon; you didn't have any tutoring tomorrow but you were planning on using the time to study, not having had much time over the weekdays to study.

but almost against your own reason and will, your arm reaches for your phone and types out a message recklessly, pressing send before your brain has the time to catch up to the antics of your foolish heart.

you: you wanna go to the arcade with me tomorrow?

you gasp at your own message, scandalized by your sudden initiative and something so out of character for you. you couldn't remember the last time you'd spent more than a couple minutes doing something fun.

actually, that was a lie. you'd just gone to eunseok's game. and you'd had fun. it was something about him that made you want to set down your pens and embrace life. or something else cheesy like that.

your heart jumps when eunseok's response comes, not even a minute after you'd sent the initial message.

song eunseok: i'd lvoe to. song eunseok: **love song eunseok: no tutoring tomorrow?

you type out a response, looking up to check the time on the desktop computer, catching a glimpse of your reflection. why the hell were you smiling?

you: not tomorrow. they canceled since they're going to busan for the weekend. song eunseok: ohhh i see. song eunseok: then let's do it! 1pm? you: sounds good. you: :)

you cast your phone aside on your nightstand, not bothering to read whatever messages eunseok had sent afterwards, instead drifting off into a somewhat peaceful and somewhat anticipatory sleep as you dreamt of the next day.

+++

you're uncharacteristically nervous, knee bouncing as you check your watch for the time for the third time in the past thirty seconds. much to your dismay, it was still very much 12:45 PM.

never had you been this nervous on the day of an important exam or a recital for violin. mostly because those were things that came somewhat easily to you - practice, practice, practice and you would succeed in any task given to you.

but friends? specifically friends who asked you on dates (according to yizhuo and minjeong, that's what this was)? you were somewhere between absolutely lost and crazy scared.

it's just eunseok, you have to breathe and remind yourself. just song eunseok. the stoic soccer team captain. your english project partner. the one that you've been getting a little too influenced by lately.

you consider turning around and heading home to safer territories (textbooks) and bailing on eunseok but before you can put your escape plan into action, the bane of your existence and cause for your issues appears in your vision, jogging over to you with the classic blank face that you've grown used to.

the shit-eating grin on his face that grows when he sees you already sitting on the bench outside the arcade is something that you're not used to, however, and it makes you blush at the implication.

"i'm a very punctual person," you say as soon as eunseok is in earshot, your ego smarting.

"i never said anything," eunseok retorts and you just harrumph, crossing your arms over your chest. "besides, i thought i'd definitely get here before you. you know, to practice."

your eyebrows knit together as you try to decipher the meaning behind his words. "to practice? practice what?"

eunseok's smile grows a little more bashful and sincere as he turns to face the arcade, unable to face you. "practice showing you that i'm worth wasting your saturday afternoon on instead of studying."

you fumble for words, leaping to your feet and marching into the arcade. "i'm not wasting my saturday afternoon on you! i'm - i'm showing you that i can be fun!"

eunseok just watches you enter the arcade, a dopey expression on his face and he jogs to follow you inside, slinging an arm around you in a casual motion that neither him nor you were expecting.

"you're plenty of fun, y/n. you have nothing to prove." eunseok's voice is soft and sweet above your head, and a little too sincere for you to pass over his words nonchalantly. you step just the slightest bit closer into his embrace, an action that doesn't go unnoticed by him and his grip, previously loose and lax so that you could push him off whenever, grows just the tightest bit stronger.

"that sounds like someone who's scared of getting their ass kicked in dance dance revolution."

"oh hell no. you're on, miss school topper."

+++

as much as you hate to admit it, you have an incredible time with eunseok at the arcade. although you don't live up to your own expectations of your performance at arcade games (you chalk it up to lack of practice), eunseok exceeds your expectations.

even games that he says that he's never attempted before come to him easily, and he beats you at every single one of them, even with handicaps such as shooting with one hand for the basketball game or closing his eyes and playing whack a mole.

it's somewhat damaging to your street cred (not that you were banking on any street cred, to be honest) but eunseok manages soothe your ego by winning you three plushies at the claw machine (which he was also good at; you were starting to think that he was ai). two of them were matching so you hand him one of them, saying that it could be a good way to remember this afternoon together.

"i don't think i forget this afternoon," eunseok says when you hand him the plushie.

"hm?" you ask, somewhat distracted by the cute plushies in your arms.

"nothing," he says, rubbing the back of his neck. "what do you say we go get some coffee? there's a really nice café nearby here."

"oh yeah, lets go. i love memories café; i study there all the time," you say, hugging the plushies to your chest.

"really? one of my friends works there! you should've told me before; i would've gotten you free coffee this whole time," eunseok exclaims, waving goodbye to the arcade employee that he'd become rather familiar with after all his visits to their establishment. the employee points to you subtly and gives him a thumbs up to indicate her approval of eunseok's type, and he just fake bows in agreement, walking out the arcade with a silly smile.

"which one? the tall one? i forget his name but he's pretty popular on campus, isn't he?" you say, your voice growing unsure as you try to place him in your memory.

"sungchan?" eunseok asks darkly, a troubled expression on his face. "yeah, he's pretty popular. for being pretty. and popular. and good at a lot of stuff."

"yeah, sungchan! he's the one who works there, isn't he? yizhuo always drags me to go when he's working because she thinks he's cute," you say before turning to eunseok with a gasp. "don't tell anyone i told you that! god, i can't believe i let that slip!"

eunseok chokes out a laugh, shaking his head. "i won't tell anyone, trust me. but, uh, do you think that he's cute? i mean you come to café pretty often right? is it because...because you think he's cute?"

you frown, trying to conjure his face in your mind before shrugging. "nah. i mean i see why people think he's cute but he's not really my type."

eunseok's heart leaps for joy before stopping at the end of your sentence. "uh, you have a type?"

he opens the door to the café for you when you reach it. you enter it, mumbling a quick thanks as you brush past him.

"sure. which teenage girl doesn't?" you quip, not even bothering to read the menu, already sure of what you were going to get.

eunseok scans the café, before groaning internally as his eyes land on his co-captain, flashing sweet smiles to every person that steps up to the register, never failing to make them swoon.

"care to share?" eunseok asks, shielding you from sungchan, wanting to prevent the clash for as long as possible.

"only if you do," you retort, and eunseok's stuck between figuring out how to keep you from seeing sungchan (or realistically, sungchan from seeing you) and how to tell you that you were his type, without actually saying your name.

he's saved and damned at the same time when sungchan calls out his name, and you peek around eunseok's body to see sungchan standing there in all of his tall, beautiful glory.

"sungchan, hey," eunseok says with a grumble, and you look up at him worriedly. he rushes to fix his tone, not wanting you to think that he was a salty or shitty friend.

"i see you've brought a friend," sungchan says smugly, and he extends his hand over the counter for you to shake. "hi! i'm sungchan, eunseok's co-captain."

you accept his hand, shaking it politely. "nice to meet you. eunseok's talked you up a lot. i'm y/n, by the way."

sungchan's eyes dart to eunseok at the mention of his praise, who's still brooding slightly, with a slight smile on his face. "trust me, there's no person at our school who doesn't know our resident number one academic. you haven't given up the throne since the day you stepped in our school."

you blush, trying to shrug casually. "i'm just really lucky to have the opportunities i do."

"intelligent, humble, and beautiful? how'd you get a girl like this to give you the time of day, seok-ie?" sungchan says, and it's like rubbing salt in the wound. sungchan is joking, and eunseok logically knows that he is just teasing him for finally working up the courage to ask you out three years after he developed feelings for you. but for some reason, the sweet smile on your face directed at sungchan instead of him made him upset.

"trust me, i have no clue either. she's pretty much perfect, isn't she?" eunseok says finally, and the sheer sincerity in his voice is enough for you to rip your gaze away from sungchan and to eunseok, who's looking at you with honey dripping from his eyes.

the sweetness in his eyes makes your heart race for some reason and you clear your throat, unable to turn away from eunseok for a good couple seconds before looking at the menu behind sungchan's head.

"well, uh, could i get a vanilla latte please? hot, not iced," you say, hating the quirk in your voice. eunseok's gaze is heavy on your face and he can barely find it in himself to turn away, ordering the same thing as you.

sungchan smirks, entering the order as his eyes dart between you and eunseok, both standing less than a foot apart but unable to look at each other.

"alright. i'll bring it over to your table, then. pro tip, the second floor has the best spot to watch the sunset in thirty minutes," sungchan says. eunseok nods in thanks, pulling out his wallet to offer sungchan a ten thousand won bill to cover your coffee and his own but sungchan just waves him away.

"today's coffee is on me. for the momentous occasion of song eunseok going on a date for the first time in his life," sungchan says and your head whips to see eunseok's reaction.

this was his first date? you think. but he's so popular! and so handsome...how has no one asked him out before?

almost as though sungchan can read your mind, he responds for eunseok. "he's been asked out so many times but he insisted that he was waiting for the one."

sungchan's words barely register in your mind, and your thoughts are still racing when eunseok guides you upstairs and to the table that sungchan had suggested.

"you've been waiting for the one?" you ask with an incredulous tone and eunseok tries his best to play it off casually.

"sungchan just says whatever. it's mostly because i didn't have the time," eunseok explains. and because none of the people who asked me out were you, he thinks, but doesn't voice aloud.

"hm. honestly, before you asked me out, i kinda thought i was going to die single," you admit after a couple moments of silence.

"why would you think that? we're only eighteen! and besides, you're smart, talented at violin, beautiful, and a bunch of other things i can't think of right now. anyone would be lucky to date you," eunseok says indignantly and you smile, but it doesn't quite reach your eyes.

"if i'm being honest with you, it's all just to cover up my own insecurities. in middle school, i wasn't that smart and i didn't really care about my grades. i had a crush on this kid - i think his name was shotaro? - but he didn't really notice me. i wasn't the smartest kid in the grade, or the prettiest one, or even rich enough to dress up nicely and wear the things i wanted to.

"i don't think he actually cared about any of that stuff but my own insecurities sabotaged me enough to convince myself that he wanted nothing to do with me because i wasn't good enough. so i threw myself into everything i could. violin, academics, working out - everything. i started getting quieter and quieter because i thought that no one would want to listen to what i had to say.

"and the more i did things like that, the more i got used to being like that. i got used to being alone and focusing on my academics and stuff. even minjeong and yizhuo have always been closer to each other than they have been to me. they do fun things without me and that's mostly my fault because i never truly let them in but i don't know. it's hard to remind myself that people want to be my friend.

"especially because everyone thinks that all i think about is stuff like my studies and violin. it's hard to have fun and make memories when there's no one to make memories with. i just wish that i could have days like this, where i go out and have fun and do the things i want to with someone who wants to make memories with me."

you sigh, brushing away the tears that had welled up in your eyes as you had spoke. eunseok is silent the whole time and you finally come to your senses, rushing to lean forward in your chair and explain your sudden outburst of emotions.

"i'm so sorry for talking your ear off! i have no clue what my problem is; i promise i'm not usually so full of myself. i don't know why i'm talking about myself so much - "

eunseok doesn't let you finish. before your brain can even process, eunseok's lips are on your cheek, and your entire body just freezes.

and before you can understand what's happening, eunseok's back in his chair, looking at you as if you were the one who had kissed him, rather than vice versa.

"sorry! i just - i didn't mean to kiss you without your consent. i'm sorry. i just really don't want you to continue berating yourself," eunseok says. "i really like you and it really sucks to know that the one person that you like the most - the person that you wish nothing but the best for - doesn't like themself nearly as much as you do."

he leans forward in his chair, turning his head so that his cheek was facing you.

"you should slap me. i can take it! i deserve it, anyway," eunseok says, squeezing his eyes shut when he feels a breeze descend on his cheek. but instead of the stinging of a slap, it feels as though a soft pillow has touched his cheek.

eunseok opens his eyes to see you leaning over the table to press your lips to his cheek and in his shock, he turns his head and suddenly his lips are on yours and you're kissing in this café.

it's like fireworks explode in eunseok's body, especially when you raise your hand to touch his cheek gently before pulling away, eunseok resting his forehead against yours.

"this is cute and all but do you mind doing this at home? i'm gonna lose my job and maybe my lunch if i have to watch this any longer," says sungchan's smug voice from behind eunseok, and the two of you leap backwards into your respective chairs.

"sorry man," eunseok manages to choke out, and you just hide your face in your hands, too embarrassed to look up.

"don't mind me," sungchan quips, setting down the two cups of coffee and retreating down the stairs, shoulders shaking from trying to hide his laughs.

"this is going to be all over school, isn't it?" you groan, your head letting a resounding thunk when you collapse against the table. eunseok gets up to hunt down and sungchan and swear (read: threaten) him to secrecy but you reach out, catching eunseok's sleeve.

you let go when eunseok stops to look at you, a hot flush on your cheeks. "i don't mind it, honestly. i mean, i was never expecting my first relationship to be such a public one but there's no sense in hiding things right?"

"wait, wait, wait. we're in a relationship? that you're okay with being public with?" eunseok says, and he can see you visibly debate back-peddling and taking back your statement or going forward with conviction.

it seems that you've chosen full throttle when you cross your arms over your chest, leaning on the table. "isn't that what you want too? a relationship? i'm assuming that you wouldn't kiss me if you didn't want me to be something more than a friend to you and i wouldn't kiss you if i wasn't open to exploring being that something more."

eunseok feels as though he's on cloud nine, slinking back into his chair with the satisfaction of a cat with a bowl of cream.

"trust me, there's nothing that i want more than that."

+++

as the two of you had expected, the school is quick to catch onto the budding relationship between you and eunseok and quite frankly, it feels refreshing for you to be associated with something other than excelling your academics.

eunseok breathes fresh air into your life just by his mere presence. he coerces you into coming to his soccer matches, never failing to run into the bleachers to scoop you up in his arms and kiss you like you're the only two people in the world.

the news of the resident ms. brain and mr. brawn dating had spread like wildfire, and an instagram post with eunseok spinning you and kissing you after winning the seoul championships garners over four hundred thousand views, your romance going viral. so viral, in fact, that someone had created an instagram account just to document your relationship - the account had over three thousand followers, as of the last time you checked.

you'd initially thought that the attention that your relationship spun up would cause issues between the two of you but more than anything, it caused you to work through any issues that came up with communication and healthy relationship counseling (sungchan flirting with you until eunseok finally got off his ass and apologized after fucking up - only whenever fights were about stupid things that either of you were too proud to give in about).

and just like that, months passed by within the blink of an eye. the instagram account (you're somewhat sure that park wonbin and kim minjeong were running the account from sheer amount of footage from close up the instagram page featured) posted a video of eunseok playing insanely well at a match after one of the times that sungchan had been called in reinforcements.

eunseok's dream college had extended a soccer scholarship, and he'd committed within twenty fours of receiving the offer and soon after, you committed to the same college.

when various people, eunseok included, asked you why you'd chosen to go to the same school as eunseok, rather than a bigger or more prestigious school (although this school was still top six in the nation), you'd just smiled and leaned into eunseok's embrace.

"i can study and do well anywhere. i can't make memories to cherish and share for the rest of my life if i go anywhere else." is all you say to everyone who asked and eunseok thanks his lucky stars that he'd kissed you that day in the café to be able to hold you and talk about a future with the two of you like this.

and just as fast the last couple months had passed by, a full ten years pass by. the ten years are filled with moments of happiness and sadness, laughs and tears, but filled with life that you wouldn't trade for the world.

and when you and eunseok walk together to the high school reunion held at someone's restaurant, hand in hand, looking the same as you had as stupidly in love teenagers ten years ago, next to no one is suprised.

"look who it is! it's mrs. brawn and mr. brain now," someone calls out, causing all of your classmates to erupt into laughter. the both of you just look at each other and smile, flagging down where sungchan and minjeong are sitting and taking your own seats next to them.

"by the way, eunseok, how'd you get our resident genius to go out with you anyway? or even fall in love hard enough to go to the same college as you?" someone you don't really recognize asks from the other side of the restaurant and the entire restaurant buzzes with excitement, waiting for eunseok's answer.

eunseok smiles and exchanges a look with sungchan, a teasing glint in his eyes. "let's just say that sungchan isn't allowed within ten feet of my wife."

and with that, the restaurant breaks out into cheers and laughter, everyone returning to their conversation, the attention turning to the most eligible bachelor of their grade, jung sungchan.

minjeong leans over to whisper in your ear. "it's a good thing you had a private wedding; i bet half of these people don't know that sungchan was eunseok's best man."

you shrug, laughing freely with everyone else. "half of these people also don't know that you and sungchan have been dating for the past three years."

eunseok's wedding band flashes under the light as he raises his glass to toast to the 'inside joke' that the four of you shared, clinking his beer with the three of you.

"to the bambi boy and the winter girl!"

"to mr. brawn and mrs. brain!"

"i can't believe i graduated from ms. brain to mrs. brain."

"and i can't believe that you and eunseok have been together for eleven years instead of fourteen because eunseok was too much of a pussy to ask you out when he started liking you."

"JUNG SUNGCHAN, I'M GOING TO FLAY YOU!"

"don't skin my fiancé please. you can do whatever you want after the wedding."

"i can't believe my fiancé hates me this much."

"i can't believe these people are our friends."

"i can't believe i finally scored mrs. brain."

[cam3lliaw]

Catching the eye of a prince

-crownprince!gojo x maid!reader

Who would’ve thought getting caught reading a book during work hours one random day would not only make you good friends with the right hand of the crown prince, but also end up making the said crown prince be interested in getting to know you.

contents/ warnings: might be ooc, insecurities( some implied), mentions of stealing, a bit of angst at times to eventual fluff, friends to lovers trope, the main characters are all in their early 20s, tba

word count: 0.7 k words

series masterlist

notes: I've read a lot of jjk royalty au recently and I was inspired to write one as well :) this is the prologue and I don't really know how long this will turn out to be but i hope you enjoy it !! (fic under the cut)

“Need any help with that?” a gruff voice could be heard from behind.

You didn’t need to turn around to know that the voice belonged to none other than Geto Suguru, the crown prince’s right hand, his one and only best friend, and last but not least, your occasional thorn in the side.

“You really like that joke a lot, don’t you, Lord Geto.” you said, still not turning to face him as you continued to hang the sheets on the clothesline.

“And you really like to call me that, even though I tell you all the time that Suguru is just fine. And besides, I wasn’t, and never will be, joking when I ask you that question, [name].” he chuckled.

“You know that my answer will always be no, Suguru. There are some lines that even I won’t cross, and to be honest, it’s absurd to even consider I’ll let you help me.”

“And why is that?” he asked, even though he fully knows the answer already.

“Well for starters, I’m not that stupid not to be aware of the difference in our status, friends or not, it still matters to me. And secondly-” you turn to face him as a smile stretches on your face “You don’t see me coming to your office and telling you how you should do your work.”

“I wouldn’t oppose to that, you know.” Suguru smiled back.

“Like I’m smart enough to even step into a place like that.” you huffed jokingly.

At that he grimaced slightly.

“Come on, [name]. We both know you are way smarter than a lot of the people that work in this palace.”

“Reading a few books here and there only get you so far, Suguru. You, out of everyone, should know that well.”

It never gets easier, admitting that you wish for more. In another universe, you would read all day, study literature properly with someone who actually knows what they’re doing, not only from damaged pages of stolen books from the royal library, books that are about to be disposed not only because the years have left them in a horrible shape but sometimes also because the concepts explained are so old that they aren’t even right anymore.

“You know I could always bring and lend you newer ones right? I told you that on multiple occasions already and I mean it every time.” Suguru said as he approached you and stood by your side.

You also know Suguru would never make fun of you, he really wants to help. But it’s hard enough to get and hide the books in the maids’ chambers before you finish reading them and returning them to the library's unofficial “trash” section. Imagine what trouble you would get in if you get caught with fancy new books. It hurts only to think about it.

“I know…I’ll let you know in case I need anything. I promise.”

Saying this is clearly better than admitting the truth. As much as you don’t want unnecessary problems for yourself, dragging Suguru into all of this mess is even worse.

“This doesn’t look very…straight.” Suguru changed the subject to lighten the mood, as he tried to lightly stretch one of the sheets.

“We both know that’s a bold-faced lie! Don’t mess the laundry! If it ends up falling down and I’ll have to wash it again, I won't talk to you anymore, Suguru.”

“We also know that’s not true.” he chuckled as he gently bumped his side into yours.

You returned the action.

And he did it once again but a bit more forceful.

And the cycle repeated itself for a few more times until you literally shoved him, but before he could fall on the grass, he grabbed your hands and dragged you down as well, falling down a step away from the dark haired man.

“You’re acting like a child!” you exclaimed as you started laughing.

“Says the one who shoved me!” he started to laugh too.

“You started it!”

“Oh that’s such a mature argument, [name]. Impressive, really.” the male continued to laugh as he got up and helped you up as well.

Unknown to the both of you, this whole exchange was watched from afar by none other than the crown prince, who was initially looking for his best friend, but it seems like he found something else instead.

end notes: i hope you liked it! :)

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

you don't have to answer this if you don't want to but what do you think about Yuu who alr knows Disney and is a bit of a better strategist than canon!Yuu? Like this Yuu would know from the first dream-vision they had that they mirror reality the next day and so whenever they wake up the next day after having these dreams and write down IMMEDIATELY about what happened and try to correlate it as much as they can to reality so they can strategize this way?? Added bonus if they know they're perceived as a weak, helpless magicless student and use it to their advantage so that others constantly underestimate them too!!

Well firstly, I think someone has most likely written this kind of fanfiction before. It’s pretty common to “novelize” the main story but specifically featuring one’s own Yuu variant and/or to do a “fix” or canon divergent story. Not my thing so I just skip over those, but I’m certain I’ve at least skimmed fic summaries of this nature.

Secondly, I don’t think it would make sense narratively (even for a more intelligent and proactive Yuu that has knowledge of Disney lore) to automatically suspect that their dreams correlate with real life events and that they should be alert for parallels. It’s assuming a lot of them, including that they’d have the hindsight before their first dream that their dreams are somehow prophetic. (I’m not counting time travel or time loop theory here, only what we know is canon right now.) That’s not really strategizing then, it’s jumping the gun and assuming that they’re a seer without enough cause to believe in it. Has this happened before to them in their original world? But dreams are rarely ever so closely associate with the things playing out 1:1 in the waking world. Why would Yuu develop this belief then??? I think they’d realistically start putting the pieces together maybe book 3 because 1 time (book 1) may just be coincidence + they wouldn’t be suspicious of anything, 2 times (book 2) is establishing a pattern, and then 3 times (book 3) would be enough times to firmly believe establish said pattern. It wouldn’t happen right off the bat.

I also feel like this kind of Yuu would not work for the current (canon) story TWST wants to tell. Having all of this information and/or going out of their way to prevent things from happening because of their foresight might just cascade into many events not playing out at all, even if only halfway through the main book. It means they’d be highly wary of many characters and could successfully avoid the pitfalls they glimpse in their dreams. They could seek out the “villains” of their dreams, deduce the issue, smooth things out sooner, prevent OBs altogether. Very, very different events might play out. (And if the main story manages to stay roughly the same in spite of all the measures this Yuu takes, then what was the point of telling it all with this intentional smarter and more actionable Yuu to begin with???) Diverging from canon happens all the time in fan creations, as I’ve said earlier—and again, there’s nothing wrong with this. I just don’t know of this would “work” with the current set up without deviating considerably at a certain point.

As for Yuu being perceived as a “weak, helpless magicless student” who “uses it to their advantage so others underestimate them too”… I feel like this is already done in canon, but very subtly and definitely relies a lot on player interpretation of what “kind” of Yuu they want to be. It’s already implied that Yuu is the strategist for battles, so they offer support in this way. Additionally, many characters recognize them for talents which lie beyond their magicless status. This includes the headmaster, who declares that Yuu has the makings of a beast tamer, and Rook, who gives Yuu the nickname “Trickster” for their cleverness. I believe that Yuu was even chosen to go for the harp in Beans Day because Jade was aware that the Monsters would underestimate Yuu and prioritize going after him, who is the more obvious threat. The world and its characters seem to constantly be telling us about Yuu’s strengths outside of a magical context, but they leave how Yuu actually makes use of their helplessness open ended for players to project as they like onto them.

It’d definitely be interesting to see a Yuu that leans into and plays up their weaknesses, but I also think that it would require a skilled writer to successfully pull that off. If not done well, the Yuu may come off as more whiny/desperate or too pompous and locked in their own self-aggrandizing head space. Maybe we’ll get a Yuu that strategizes with their deliberate helplessness in a future installment of the manga? Could be interesting!

[elysianymph]

🔥 anything about sirius because i am being a little hater towards some characterisations too

i've already talked your ears off about this on discord but i'm happy to talk to about it again bc i fucking HATE new sirius black with a burning passion. i hate him as much as i love my sirius black that marauderstok can pry from my cold dead hands bc i'm not letting him go. i don't know when it happened and why but marauders fans are particularly persistent on taking away any interesting traits sirius had and leaving behind a whimpering pathetic twink that cries when someone looks at him the wrong way. sirius has been scrubbed clean of any morally grey traits he might've had (he's not allowed to care for his family (unless it's regulus) or long for them bc they are bad, he's not allowed to have any prejudices even though he was literally raised with pureblood mentality and taught he was superior to everyone else from the day he was born, he's not allowed to be an asshole bc he's not like his family guys!! and when he is an asshole it's always used to victimize the character he's being an asshole to and sirius is painted as the villain with mommy issues that can only be fixed by getting dicked down apparently)

i cannot stress this enough: LET THIS MAN BE A COMPLEX CHARACTER!! and no, giving him mental illnesses that miraculously disappear when he gets together with remus and making him attempt to kill himself post prank because he feels bad is NOT making him complex! you're just weird. you're just romanticizing mental illnesses and i can't believe you don't see anything wrong with it. giving him bipolar to justify his actions is?? not??? representation??? it's offensive to people who actually have to deal with these issues in their day to day lives and yet here you are using something that will impact their life forever as a plot device for your uwu sadboy mlm fanfic.

and that's what new sirius boils down to. he's a plot device, an accessory to everyone else's story that's never given much depth other than "oh his mom used the cruciatus on him and now he's traumatized". no hate to jegulus but hate to specific jegulus fics that turn sirius into an overdramatic caricature of his former self for the sake of drama and angst.

also, some of these wolfstar shippers... wtf are you guys on?? idk when and why (that's a lie i do but i'm not gonna say it) remus became sirius black in a werewolf costume but here we are. oh sirius was cool and effortlessly smart and handsome and girls wanted him? well guess what? snatches all of those character traits and throws them onto remus they're his character traits now. ignore how it doesn't make any sense for the werewolf child who was isolated from the rest of the world to be a smooth talking alpha casanova who plays basketball actually. while we're at it, ignore how unrealistic it is for a boy who was raised in a family that believed they were superior to everyone else based on blood status, who was raised to be the perfect heir and checked off all the traits needed to be one to be insecure?? and unsure of himself?? and stupid??? and a loser??? i don't understand what the point of flipping the wolfstar dynamic was when you're left with a shallow copy of the original but ok. you do you ig.

to summarize, my sirius is cool and effortlessly smart and egotistical and a complete asshole who thinks he's the best thing ever. is it an act to cover up how damaged he thinks he is because of his family? possibly. but i also fully believe sirius thought he was a god amongst men and everyone should be glad to be in his presence. he talked down to other people because he considered himself smarter, he rolled his eyes when students asked stupid questions and made fun of them when they got an answer wrong. he's a teenage boy let him be a dick with no excuses.

(also i find it funny when people write about sirius getting into a fight with james or remus and crying because they said something mean. as if sirius wouldn't throw hands the moment someone started criticizing him. he's toxic and that's what makes him interesting. that's his purpose! characters exist to make stories interesting, to start drama, not to be your moral guide on how to act. stories become so much more fun once you let go of the need to make every character a good person. also liking a character doesn't equal liking them as a person. i love sirius but i would hate his guts irl)

[radiant-reid]

need a blurb where spencer and y/n are in a fight and a kid gets in trouble and goes to spencer to whine ab it and spencer just like “yeah me too kid”

omg i wanna write divorce fics so bad someone stop me because that's toxic af

The 'no fighting in front of the kids' rule means that even though you and Spencer are in the middle of a spat, you have no choice during the hours your kids are awake to do anything but avoid each other in a way that's not suspicious.

Your two-day-long argument isn't about anything huge, just Spencer's work-life balance throwing you both out of sync. It's something you've worked through before, so there's no major concern for your relationship going forward.

He was out running errands, but you're pretty sure he's back, probably sulking in his study. You're baking to relieve your anger, mixing chocolate chips into cookie dough while you watch the twins playing a board game.

It quickly goes wrong, and Mabel's yelling, throwing her cards at her sister. You intervene before things can escalate more. "Mabel, come here." You call sharply, and you're greeted by an angry seven-year-old next to you. "You don't throw things at other people." You discipline her. "Or yell. You can go say sorry now or sit in your room until you're ready to."

She takes the latter option, stomping away sassily. "Not fair!" She yells back.

"I didn't cheat," Maisie claims from the table.

You nod. "Why don't you read the new book you got at the library?" You suggest. They love spending time together, and they're close since they're twins, but sometimes they need time apart.

Mabel passes her bedroom and goes to the study, looking for her dad, who she finds. He's not even reading the book in his hands, just sitting there moping.

"Hey, Belle." He says when she pushes open the door.

"Mom's mad at me." She complains, sitting on the leather armchair opposite him.

"Yeah, me too." Spencer agrees. "What happened?"

She sighs dramatically. "Threw cards at Mais." She confesses. "Because she was being mean. Wait, why's she mad at you?"

"I didn't apologize when I should have." He admits.

She gasps like he'd just confessed to committing a crime. "You know you always have to apologize."

Sometimes he wonders if his kids are smarter than him because they always seem to repeat the things he tells them when he needs advice. "Yeah, I should." He agrees. "Are you going to?"

She thinks about it for a second before nodding. "Yeah, probably."

Spencer stands up, offering her a hand up. "Should we go now?"

She takes it, nodding at him. "Yup."

[fermentedfanfics]

the cottage on the hill.

hey cuties here’s another au fic, i feel like aus are the only things i write these days?? i just have a lot of ideas i want to insert loki into lmfao. ummmm i simply did no research on this genre whatsoever so i’m really sorry if it kind of sucks or is a little all over the place?? let me know what y’all think! <3 also, there’s going to be instances of mentioning of reader’s father’s initials on items, it will be done so as (F.I) thank you cuuuttiiiieeessss. this fic series is explicit and for 18+ audiences, minors dni.

summary: reader lives in the hills outside her local village, close to the fae border. after a fateful encounter with a black cat, she accidentally invites the fae king into her home. warnings: (for future chapters) fem!reader, smut, fear kink, praise kink, piv sex, unprotected sex, different time era, kinda obsessed loki? not kinda, he is obsessed, i’ll add more as the series progresses. word count: 4.1k tag list: @colorsunimaginable @huntress-artemiss (please reply below if you want to be added to the tag list for this fic series!) part two (will link once posted.)

“You should move into the village.”

You’ve heard the sentence plenty of times, over and over again– and at this point it’s a nuisance. But the old woman in front of you, her serious tone, you know you cannot laugh and wave her off. Not Meredith. Your fingers dig into the handle of your woven basket, placing four nice, round apples (the last of her order) into her hands– she sharply thrusts the six copper and one silver coins it cost her into your hands. “The hills are not safe.” Meredith grumbles, her one eye that hasn’t gone blind is shooting beady daggers into your soul.

You thickly gulp and shakily nod your head, tucking the coins into the small pack sewn to the hip of your dress. “Yes, Meredith. I’m making arrangements.” You lie, and she knows you’re lying to drop the topic. But before she can barrage you again with eerie warnings of your home, your heels have turned and you’re on your way. You thank her profusely of her patronage, but you must be on your way. Household chores and the lot.

You’ve actually not much to do today, but you desperately do not wish to sit and listen to Meredith and her outlandish stories of the fae. You were smarter than she thought, you knew to stay home and never wander. Ever since the passing of your father, the village has grown more concerned about you living in the hills all by yourself.

With nothing much else going on in their lives, it’s expectant for them to bud their noses into other’s lives and gossip– you didn’t think this much though.

“Y/N!” Gareth, a tall townsman that you’ve found yourself day-dreaming about on multiple occasions, catches your attention just as you are to leave the village. His frame towers you, and his dirty blond hair is messy from work, sticking to his forehead in the sweltering heat of the day. “Heading home already?” He muses.

You smile, nodding slightly. “Only a few deliveries today.” Gareth looks you over, your basket almost empty, odd for someone about to head home. “May I walk you?” He offers, but before you can even think you’re declining his offer and absconding.

You aren’t sure what possesses you to isolate yourself from the town, but ever since your father’s passing you’ve found yourself uncomfortable with any sort of bonding the people of the village offer you. Even from someone you fancy.

It’s an hour's time from your home to the village, you hope to be home before the sun sets. While you aren’t afraid of walking home in the dark, your trusty dagger tucked to your hip and out of sight, you also didn’t want to deal with the troubles night brought. The warm, summer wind kissed your cheeks and cooled the sweat forming on your forehead, thankful you weren’t nearly as heated as you could be.

Following the brown beated trail from your house to the village, you kept notes of your surroundings. The birds that flew ahead, the rabbits that hopped around you– if you had your traps you’d make the effort to catch some for dinner. You thought of tempting one with kindness and taking your blade to it, but you didn’t want to waste daylight.

The forests around you whispered ancient tongues directed towards everything but you about you, just as they were taught to. Where you were, who you spoke with, what you were doing– they knew far too well who would be asking these questions. But they didn’t have to, he was already there– watching.

You listened to the crunching of the leaves and sticks below your feet, enjoying the day's walk. If you were in your right mind, you would have taken Gareth up on his offer to walk you home, but there was something different. Something wrong. You could feel it in your gut, and your father always told you to never ignore a gut feeling.

Picking up your pace, the strange feeling relaxed a bit as you could see the faded, moss-overgrown roof of your home. You could practically feel the comfort of your rocking chair once the stone fencing of your house came into view, shoulders slumping. 

Digging into your basket, you pulled an apple from it. Turning it to the side, you eyed the small, brown, bruise that made the woman that you tried to sell it turn it away. You felt lucky the apples trees lining the forest near your home had decided to bear fruit this soon, but a bit bitter at the expectations from the villagers. The trees were there when you were born, they weren’t going to be perfect every year.

Pulling your dagger from it’s sheath, you carefully cut the bruise from it and began to cut the apple in half, then into quarters and so on. You were left with dingy, but still edible apple slices, popping them into your mouth as you completed your trip. The sweet juice was satisfying.

Without warning, a sudden loud chatter pulled you from your thoughts. Your dagger slipped from your hands from the startle, looking down to see a beautiful, sleek black cat staring at you. He seemingly came from no where, or at least snuck up on you while you hadn’t noticed. “Oh!”

He was possibly the most beautiful cat you’ve ever seen in your life, your heart instantly swelling. Black cats were a parah amongst the villagers, harbringers of bad luck, death, and everything terrible. It wasn’t uncommon to see the instant death of black cats– it was one of the reasons you didn’t want to move to the village.

Squatting to your knees, you held your hand out to the cat, beckoning it. “Hello pretty kitty..” A smile curled to your lips as he dipped his head into your palm, purring. Oh, what a way to end the day. However, just as quickly as he turned sweet, he instantly turned sour.

The cat snapped at your hand, nipping your palm with his sharp teeth. You shouted, wincing in pain as you fell back onto your backside. “Fuck!” You cursed, looking down at the small bite mark in your hand, light dribbles of blood pooling from the wound. Well, suppose there was a reason people were wary of black cats.

Before you could react, he swiftly picked your dagger into his mouth, blade hanging out. In an instant, he was a black blur in the wind. “No! No, no, no– please!” Your voice immediately cracked, standing to your feet in an instant to chase. But it was no use, the minute the cat ducked behind the apple trees and into the forest your run came to a stuttering halt. Your chest rose, a burning sensation flaming across your skin and tears pricking your eyes.

Your father’s dagger, his prized dagger– the one he made himself and gifted you just days before his untimely death, it was gone. Just like that. Falling onto your bottom once more, you heaved at the sky. “Fuck!!” You shouted.

What would a cat want with a dagger anyway?

It was dark by the time you picked yourself help and dragged yourself into your home, tears streaking your cheeks. You cried hard and long in front of those trees, your grief gripping you by the throat with a strong vice. You’d thought you were okay. Yes, you were broken by your father’s death, alone with no one to protect or love you– but you’d stopped the crying weeks ago!

You were frustrated at how easily your sobs came back due to something so simple. Sniffling, you closed and locked your wooden door before heading to the kitchen. You needed to eat. A solemn expression settled on your face, and the ache that grew in your chest hummed painfully.

A soup would do good tonight, something comforting to pull you from this rut. Grabbing two large, chunky potatoes from the sack in the corner of your kitchen you placed them on the counter, ready to cut. Instinctively, you reached for your dagger to use and gasped when you felt it’s emptiness.

Shit.

Tears welled again, and your crumpled to the floor like a wet rag. Nothing had ever hurt so much.

Your little home filled with the sounds of your moaning sobs, weak sniffles and frustrated screams. You felt like a child having a tantrum, and all you wanted was your father. But even he couldn’t come to help.

You cried yourself to a short slumber.

Thump. Thump. Thump!

You jolted. Eyes bleary from the tears, you confusedly blinked them. Was that the door? Pushing yourself up off the floor, you wiped your wet face with the sleeve of your dress. Seems you didn’t sleep that long, it was still dark outside– just how late into the night was it?

Thump. Thump. Thump!

“Gods! Who…who would be here..?” You whispered to yourself, picking yourself up off the floor as you tried to make yourself look presentable and not like you hadn’t just crumpled into a mess of a woman. Wiping your hair from your face, you quickly rounded the corner of your kitchen to your front door.

The strange feeling that fluttered your stomach on your walk home returned, making you hesitate in opening the door. Unsure of the feeling, you took a step back from the door, staring at it warily. Perhaps you had heard wrong?

Thump. Thump. Thump!

Christ your candles were still lit, they knew you were home. You didn’t wish to deal with an intruder or burgler, let alone someone coming in to do you harm. You didn’t have your dagger, but you surely had your kitchen knives.

Running back to the kitchen, you quickly grabbed one and slid back to the door. Hiding it behind the door, you finally slid the wood slab that kept it locked away and creeked it open, peaking your head out. “..Yes?” Your voice wavered slightly.

You were surprised at the stature of the stranger in front of you, noting how you actively had to look up. He wore a hooded cape that hid most of his upper torso, the hood settled atop his head and slightly covering his face. It was dingy and slightly torn, little holes littering hte hems indicating how long he’d been using it for. His boots were covered in mud, as if he traveled far. You squinted your eyes at him.

“Can I help you, sir?”

“My lady,” He grinned, cunning and wicked. Your stomach twisted.

“I’m terribly sorry to bother you so late into the night, but, I was passing– and noticed the initials etched into your home.” Despite his attire, he was eloquently spoken. You gripped your knife tighter, trying to keep a calm face.

“Are you perhaps, F.I?”

“I am. What is it to you?” You were stern, this caused him to chuckle. It was deep, almost mesmerizing.

“Then, I believe this belongs to you.”

The stranger then reached his hand out, and you tensed. You were expecting something terrible; a curse, a dagger ready to rob, anything bad that would befall you and make you meet your end tonight. You were correct, in a sense, but the dagger in his hand made you gasp.

You didn’t even think when you dropped the knife, the clatter not reaching your ears as you opened your door wider and grabbing it from his much larger hands. “My dagger!” You heaved, the smile of relief that washed over your features make him smile wider.

The handle was carved beautifully out of wood, wrapped in a thin leather for grip. But in the blade, an engraving stood out. F.I. Your father’s dagger was back in your hands. “Gods! I never thought I’d see this again. Sir, thank you! Where did you ever find it?” Your wide eyes looked back up at him.

“Well, I found it quite odd to see a cat carrying such a thing. It dropped it when I scared it, so I kept it– just in case. And on my travels to the next village over,” He motioned towards the one you had just came back from. “I saw your home, and your initials.”

Your heart raced with excitement and joy, pure, unbridled joy. The sadness you had felt had washed away, and was replaced with a happy melancholy. Your father was still gone, but it was like he’d returned home.

Your fingers grazed the blade, looking it over. It was undamaged, surprisingly. “How could I ever thank you?” You whispered, your mistake.

The stranger held back his wide smile, sharp teeth gritting with delight. He knew not to get too excited, not too giddy. Good things come to those who are patient afterall.

Dipping his head slightly, he cleared his throat. “If it’s no trouble to you, madam, would you be so kind as to offer this traveller a meal? To ready him for his continued travels?” He innocently asked.

Looking up at him, you thickly swallowed. A stranger, in your home. Your mind, body, and soul were on different paths. Your gut said no, turn him away and call it a night. But, your heart, oh your weakness. He had kindly given you back your beloved dagger, even though he could have kept it for himself because of how well it was made. A meal was nothing to you, nothing.

Biting your lip, you peaked at the knife on the ground. Norns. “Yes!” You almost shouted, clearing your throat. “One moment.”

When you shut the door of your house, you looked down at the dagger for a moment before tucking it into it’s sheath on your hip. You picked up the knife that had made it’s way to the floor and tried your quickest to put it back into the kitchen. You hadn’t even started dinner, but the soup you were to make would do just fine.

Back to the door, you opened it and this time fully opened it, allowing the stranger access to your home. “Please, come in.” You offered with a wry smile.

The stranger graciously accepted your offer, stepping into your small, cozy little home. Your scent engulfed him, and he had to turn away from you for a moment. You’d already turned your back to him, heading back to the kitchen. “There’s not many places to sit, other than the table and my chair. Feel free to get comfortable if you wish, I’ll be making dinner then.” You wave your hand at him.

He takes your advice and melts into your chair, almost radiating in the fact that it was yours. He was delighted, gleeful in fact. You’d been much dumber than he expected, but it was with charm. Your back turned to him, he greedily took in your backside and bottom as you began to chop away at vegetables; potatoes, carrots, peppers– anything to add to the soup. It wasn’t going to be much.

“So, my lady. What does F.I stand for?” He mused.

You bit your lip, rolling your shoulders slightly. “I’ll admit that I lied to you. They are my father’s initials, not mine.” You admitted, dumping the potatoes into a pot of water you had prepped before you fell asleep. You’d have to go out and get some chicken feet to add flavor so you weren’t just feeding him vegetables and water.

“Ahhh, a little liar on my hands?”

“Well, I didn’t know who you were!” You defended yourself.

“And your name?”

“What about it?”

He grinned, so you were a tad bit informed. “May I have it?” His question was so simple, and very innocent. He was good at making your skin crawl, your forehead sweat, and your abdomen warm. Strange, indeed. You remembered what Meredith told you. Never give your name to a stranger, they’ll take it for good. “No..” You sighed.

You jumped when he burst into laughter, haughty and loud. You’d almost nicked yourself with the knife when he did, looking over your shoulder with confusion. “You are very smart, madam! Suppose I should stop testing you.” Testing for what? You wondered.

“What is your name, my lady?” He finally asked, like a normal person. You were beginning to believe he wasn’t a normal person, and the thought alone made you shudder. “What is yours?” You asked instead.

“Loki.”

“Loki?” You reiterated, it was a foreign name certainly. One you’ve never heard.

He liked the way his name rolled off your tongue, and the fact that you simply didn’t realize who he was by name only elated him. Were humans forgetting? Becoming more stupid? Loki revelled in the thought of what the future would bring.

“Yes, Loki. Now I’ve told you mine, you must tell me yours!”

You chewed on your bottom lip. “Y/N.” You huffed curtly.

Loki already knew your name, the trees whispered your secrets to him. It’s why he knew everything about you, why he loved you.

“I must step out to my coop for an ingredient, try not to mess with anything.” You simply stated as you walked across from your kitchen to the back door by the chair he had so comfortably plopped himself in. You wiped your hands onto your apron before opening the door and stepping out. You just needed some chicken feet.

When you returned, you instantly noticed Loki was no longer in the seat he was in. Before you could panic, you finally noticed him leaning over the pot of water and vegetables. 

“I told you not to mess with anything.” You almost scolded him, a hint of faux-ire in your voice. You tossed the chicken feet you’d acquired into the water, looking up at him. He seemed dissatisfied with what you were making, and it made you upset. Sure he returned your dagger, but he was a guest and you were genuinely going out of your way to feed him.

No traveller would be this picky.

“I was wondering if you’d planned on feeding me just water and vegetables.” He taunted.

“And I was just thinking no traveller would be this picky.”

His silence chilled you to your core as you picked up the pot, huffing at it’s weight. You struggled to bring it over to the fire hole in the center of your home. With effort, you were able to plop the pot right over the fire– it would be a bit before it was done. This left you with some time with Loki, and your skin itched at the idea.

You melted at the dining table your father had also made, a soft sigh escaping your lips. Loki joined you, sitting across. His hood was still on, despite his comfort in your chair he had not made any advances to relax.

“Where do you hail from, Loki?” You finally asked him a question, one you should have asked long ago. The strange feeling in your gut did not leave whatsoever, in fact it only worsened. The hairs on the back of your neck stood when he was near, and his voice sent chilly vibrations throughout your body. You weren’t quite sure if you were afraid, or attracted to him.

“Asgard, and I assume you hail here?”

You couldn’t tell if Loki was lying or not. With everything he said, you just weren’t sure what to take at face value. It was what bothered you the most about him, he was a wall you seemingly couldn’t knock down. You weren’t sure you wanted to.

“Yes. My whole life.” You admitted.

“And where is your father?” The question stung, and Loki knew it did.

You’d remembered and grieved your father’s death far too many times today, your face said it all. Nose slightly scrunched, brows furrowed in such a miserable sense– it almost made Loki want to jump from where he was and hold you.

With watery eyes, you coughed slightly to cover it. You looked away, over to the pot checking it hadn’t boiled over. “He’s dead.” You quaked. This night wasn’t how you planned and you wanted it to end instantly.

But looking over his figure, his large hands with long, delicate fingers– he’d overpower you easily should the night go awry. You admit you were scared of Loki, deeply afraid. His mere presence evoked a trigger in your flight or fight responses, and you wanted to fly.

“That is a shame truly, to leave a lovely daughter all alone. With no one.”

His words were a stab to the heart, breaking you down. You abruptly stood from your seat, clearing your throat. “The..soup.” You motioned over to it, your excuse for leaving. Hastily making your way over, you grabbed a large wooden spoon from the kitchen and began to stir. It finished much faster than you anticipated, but you were glad it was. The sooner he ate, the sooner he left– right?

Loki watched you carefully as you walked from the kitchen to the pot again like a ghost, two bowls in hand. You first filled his, the broth a nice brown-ish colour from the cooked chicken– and when you handed it to him you held up your hand for one moment.

You returned from the kitchen with a loaf of bread, breaking a piece for him. He gratefully took it. You then made your own bowl and joined him once again at the table, exhausted. Loki ripped a piece off the bread you’d given him, dipping it into the hot liquid before taking a bite. A hum escaped his chest, as if he were a starved man eating for the first time in weeks.

Starved but picky? His strange aura eluded you. “Much better than I expected, this will get me through the night, madam.” He grinned, almost as if he wanted to taunt you to anger– to do something not in your right mind.

What was the point in sharing names if he was just going to call you madam and lady? You weren’t even a lady, the state of your home made that clear. Tearing off a piece of bread, you silently dipped it into your soup and took a bite. Much to your surprise, he was right.

The soup was delightfully flavourful, instantly warming your core. Your mouth watered as you swallowed the broth soaked bread, picking up one of the smaller wooden spoons you’d grabbed for the two of you to eat with. You scooped up a chunk of potato, slurping it down with a bite of bread and as you chewed you began to realize there was something off about the soup.

You wanted to panic, to stop eating, but you didn’t. You kept eating it, because it was delicious. It was the most delicious soup you’d ever made, and you were a pretty good cook. Your mind ran wild with how something so simply put together tasted so good that you didn’t notice Loki had finished, and was watching you devour the soup and bread like you were the one starved.

When you finished the soup, you couldn’t stop the sigh of content that released from your chest. You felt warm, fuzzy, and sleepy. A tired you’d never felt before. You chalked it up to eating such a hot dinner on such an emotional night, but you knew you were going to sleep heavily afterwards. You looked forward to it.

Loki standing up pulled you from your daze, your tired eyes looking up at him. “Thank you for the meal, my lady. But I must take to the night.” He told you holding out his hand. Without much thought, you slipped your hand into his. Loki brought your knuckles to his lips, placing a chaste kiss upon them. Your brows flew up in surprise at the sentiment, the skin where he’d kissed feeling hot as well as your cheeks and ears. This was unexpected.

“Oh, it’s alright– please.” You awkwardly pulled your hand from his, stepping aside to lead him to the door. A part of you was jumping with glee that he was leaving so soon.

“If it’s no mind to you, when I am finish with my duties in the village, may this traveller come back for another meal tomorrow night?”

His question did not have time to linger before you agreed without thinking, wishing you’d bit your tongue. With a grin, Loki let himself out and was gone into the night. You closed the door, sliding the lock into place.

You stared at the door for a moment, then wavered to the bedroom in the back– it was your father’s bedroom now turned yours. You plopped into the bed, softly grunting as your body collided with the fluffy blanket. Your body was burning, and your head was elsewhere. That soup did a number on you, and as you thought back to seeing Loki leaning over the pot, you drifted into a deep slumber for the rest of the night.

[fang-and-feather]

Ikemen Vampire - Arthur x Reader - Family Fic

For Day 5 of 12 Days of Arthur hosted by @oigimi and @scummy-writes

This week was a nightare for writing, i'm glad I at least finished this, as improvised as it was

IkeVamp Masterlist / General Masterlist / AO3 Link

“When will dad get here?” Your daughter asked impatiently, sitting on the floor by your feet, Vic resting his head on her lap.

“He’ll be here soon, dear.” You ruffled her hair, hoping Arthur wouldn’t take too long.

I still took a few more minutes before the door opened, Vic rushing to it.

“Down, Vic!” Arthur said firmly, trying to calm the dog that jumped at him, as if to get to the box in his arms. “Down!” Vic finally listened, sitting back, but still staring at the box but he was replaced by the little girl, that darted from her place by your side to cling to him.

“Daddy!” She hugged him, then looked up, eyes shinning as she noticed the box. “You really got me a pet!”

“Why do you think so, dear? Maybe it’s a toy. Or a gift for your mother.”

“There are holes in the box, like mom made when we brought that bird to the forest. And you already got mom a gift, that’s why you got home late last week.” She explained.

Arthur looked so proud when she said that. You knew he loved the fact that your daughter was so observant at such young age. Maybe it was just a phase, in which she was awestruck with him and his skills, and trying to copy him. But she was smarter than other kids her age, especially in things that required logic, attention and observation, and he always got so proud when she showed that.

“Smart like her father.” You laughed. “She’ll be outsmarting you before you know it.”

“Is that the confidence you have in me, luv?” Arthur should know you were teasing, still he clearly didn’t like the notion that anyone could outsmart him, not even his own daughter, because he was definitely pouting.

“Don’t worry, daddy.” Your daughter chimed in. “You will always be my champion.”

“Well, thank you, dear.”

“But mom said good students get better than their teachers.” She added, making you laugh harder.

She wasn’t even the one you told that to, but apparently she heard your conversation and took your words seriously.

Arthur looked like he wanted to protest, but all that noise seemed to wake the dog in the box, who had been quiet until now, as he started to bark and try to push the box open. Vic stood up, barking back.

“I think we all got a little out of track here, and someone is getting impatient.”

“True.” Arthur crouched down to get to his daughter’s eye level, extending the box to her. “Merry Christmas, little robin.”

The little girl sat on the floor, opening the box.

“Here, little one.” She told the puppy that poked his head out. He barked at her and she reached out to touch him a little hesitantly, but smiled in delight when he let her do so, tail wagging, before she picked him up. “I think it likes me!” She exclaimed, excitedly.

The puppy was the same race as Vic, but in a different coloration.

“And you like him?”

“I love him! Thank you, Dad!”

Vic had approached her, sniffing the new puppy, who barked at him. Vic barked back, then walked back to Arthur.

“Seems like Vic approves, too.”

The girl let the puppy down, following him as he started to explore the room.

“What will be his name?” You asked her.

“Sherlock.” She declared, without hesitation.

You tried not to laugh at the obvious shock on Arthur’s face. Not even he was prepared for that turn of events. He would probably regret agreeing to get her a dog for a while.

“Who told you about Sherlock, dear.”

“I saw it in one of dad’s papers, then I asked uncle Sebas.” The puppy ran up to Vic, barking as if calling to him, and your daughter followed, finally noticing Arthur. “Daddy, are you okay?”

Arthur closed his eyes, gulped, took a deep breath and managed to smile. Not finding the courage to complain at his little girl.

“I’m fine, little robin.”

She nodded happily and scooped Sherlock up, before running to the door.

“Where are you going?” You asked her.

“Show him to Vincent and Lis.”

“Don’t run on the stairs, and don’t lose him.” You shouted as she ran to meet her friends, with Vic following her out.

“Okay, mum!” She shouted back.

Shaking your head, you turned back to Arthur.

“Seems like she already won this round. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m not fine, exactly.” Arthur admitted in a low tone. “Of all things… But you underestimate me, luv.” He added with a weak grin. “This is not exactly a loss. Sometimes you have to make sacrifices to win a game, that’s part of the strategy.”

“Strategy for what? The only time you brought up a game regarding her was last year.”

“And you really thought I would let it end in a draw like that?”

You laughed, nuzzling into his chest.

“You’re impossible. But you know you didn’t need to go that far, right? She would have understood if you talked to her.” Arthur tensed a little, and you tried to pull away to look at him, but he hugged you tighter. “Don’t tell me the great detective didn’t figure out how emotionally mature his daughter really is?”

“Maybe. But you don’t take uncalculated risks when you want to win.”

“I’ll leave it at that.” You said, laughing. You knew Arthur didn’t want to admit he was unable to say no to his little girl. After all, it defeated the purpose of the game if you didn’t know it was still ongoing. But you would let him have this moment, at least for this day. “Merry Christmas, Arthur. I love you.”

Arthur finally pulled away to face you.

“Love you too, bird. Merry Christmas.” You two kissed, enjoying each other’s warmth a little longer while you could. “A shame we can’t continue this right now, luv. Let’s get your gift then, shall we?”

Tag List: @tele86, @nightghoul381, @natimiles

If you want to be tagged on future writings, you can reply to this post or send me a message

IkeVamp Masterlist / General Masterlist

[northlt03]

Read The Secret History for the first time and I got obsessed with it so I wrote smth. Kind of want to write a whole fic but should I ??

Does such a thing as the “fatal flaw” so prominent in Ancient Greek myths and plays exist? And if so, what makes it fatal? What makes it have the power to unravel a person from the inside out? To be the very reason behind their downfall? To be the reason behind the madness they descend into.

My given, legal name is Bartemius Crouch Jr, after my rather self absorbed father. I am twenty three years old and this is my suicide letter.

I do believe such a thing exists. A fatal flaw. Something in the core of one’s soul, one’s psyche. Something fixed and immutable. A core part of one, around which the rest of their being is built.

Mine, I would like to think, would be something striking, perhaps climactic and dramatic. A morbid longing for the picturesque at all costs.

That sounds like something an old friend of mine might say. In a way, my writing of the events that follow, is a letter to him. To justify, perhaps, or to explain. I am not asking for forgiveness or understanding. This is simply a recount of what happened. 

As is the case, the search for “aesthetic” might not be my fatal flaw at all. It is pride, or perhaps hubris, as the Greeks called it. A call for attention. I did this! We did this! Oh we’re all sick bastards but how fucking glorious was it?

Perhaps a smarter man might analyze that, sit me down and ask me why I feel like announcing this to the world. Is it because of the lack of attention I had growing up from my father? Or the feeling of being absolutely inconsequential and meaningless? 

I grew up hearing, listening, reading, about old men and women who went on soliloquies, about the importance of family. Blood maketh family. Toujours puur, was the motto of my friend’s family. That is what all the adults believed around me, while I was young and even now.

Family above all else.

I feel as though they might have exaggerated the consequence of a family, making me believe I would never be greater than my father, that all my existence would be tainted by his. I would follow in his footsteps as a lawyer or perhaps a public servant and waste away like he did, with a wife and a child I never wanted.

Now, writing down my bitterness for my family, I may come across as a bit harsh. But that is the truth.

My father, a lawyer, who settled down in the south of England in a quiet sort of city, had never wanted to get married, nor to have a child. The fact was painfully established. Clear even to me as a child. I was unwanted. I was a hindrance, just another mouth to feed. Then as a teenager, a recalcitrant, rebellious waste of space.

I had a few friends growing up, none of them significant. I had always felt a shadow of dread, something rotten in my core, perhaps my fatal flaw. And it was this that other people, even children my age, could sense. I suppose that is why I was so swept up in the romance of it all at college. My first real friends, the ones who understood me, just as rotten and downright ugly on the inside.

It sounds shameless and repulsive on paper, but it is one thing to read about the events and another entirely to live through them, to live despite them, though I won’t much longer.

In my younger years, I did not have much of an affinity to the classics. I found them boring and incessant. It would be long until I grew to love everything I despised about them.

My father was a tall man, someone who, to me, had always seemed foreign and distant. We shared the same name (a bit egotistical in my opinion to name one’s son after oneself), and according to my mother, even shared the same features (a sharp nose, dark brown eyes, a distant stare, and a slim figure). I never accepted the comparison as a compliment. Even now, when it has been years since I’ve seen my parents, I detest even the mention of my father. 

It is one thing to not want children and another entirely to have one you feel nothing for and push him to fulfill your ambitions that you never achieved.

The trajectory of my life had been decided by him since before I could put one foot in front of the other.

I was to study law, like him, from a better university than him, then with my practices, I was to support my aging parents once my father retired. I have now a few hundred pounds to my name, and I leave it all to them. It is a bitter sort of ending. They will not know about my death until the papers tomorrow.

My mother, in contrast, is a meek woman. She had always been that way and will stay that way until she dies. Passive, docile, doing what my father requests because she is in love with a ghost of a man who aged and turned vile.

She used to tell me stories of their youth. How she had met my father at college, a smart, brilliant, animated young man with great ambitions. She had been charmed instantly. And that is perhaps her fatal flaw. To see someone or something and immediately assume the best of it. To ignore the abuse she endured, and to try and convince me, her son, to see her husband in the same light she saw him— a hard working family man who despite his aloofness and distance, ultimately wanted the best for me.

I don’t know what magical land my mother lived in, nor what rose tinted glasses she looked at my father with.

My only impetus through most of my life was the fact that I never wished to be like my father. I would rather die before I became that cold husk of a man. Rather funny how life works out.

Now I am sitting here in a rented apartment at midnight, scrawling desperately while the love of my life snores in the bed behind me. The only light is the candle burning, something that reminds us both of our old friend. Tomorrow, we will join him.

But for now, I am my past.

My father could have accepted the sciences as a career had I chosen them. If I wanted to be a doctor or perhaps a veterinarian even. He would have been displeased, but ultimately be persuaded. It was my attraction to the Arts and Humanities he despised.

Though my involvement with them was largely an accident.

I was rather lazy in my first two years of college, content to just drift through life (another thing my father disliked). It was in my first year I chose Greek simply because the classes were only twice a week and both times late in the afternoon. That should give you an idea that I truly did not intend for everything to play out the way it did.

A butterfly effect so aptly called.

Had I known I would change the trajectory of my life this way, would I still choose that Greek class in the afternoon? (Now, listening to the soft snores behind me, the answer is obvious. Yes. Of course).

I was nineteen when my life changed. A quite unruly teenager who dramatized his life because he was afraid it would amount to nothing. I wrote in my diary, similar to the one I am now writing in, about everything and nothing. 

I would write about the colors of the flowers in the spring, the first breath of fresh air after I had not left my house in some time, the vexatious and futile rituals of teenagehood the rest of my peers conducted, the loneliness I felt, trapped in that house, like my father’s hand constantly squeezing my throat, making it hard to breathe.

It was this diary my father had found, through my own fault. He was rarely, if ever home. He spent nights and days out, never informing my mother of his whereabouts. It left her wondering and fearing for his safety. Though a few days later he would come stumbling back with no explanations.

Sometimes I wanted to hold her by her shoulders and shake her. 

Look at him. I wanted to scream, but for fear of becoming a shadow of my father, I did not. Look at his pathetic state! At the secrecy he employs. Business retreats he calls them! And what about the lipstick stains on his blazer?

My mother was either blind in love or a fool.

I hate to think I am a son of those two. 

I hate to think I am no different from them.

I had always wanted to run away. Even as a child. I would dream about running into the woods, a mile out from the city. I had quite the imagination then. I would live in a tree, build my own house with my seven year old hands and live right there. I would never see my parents again. 

I had written about my urge to run away as well in my diary. 

My father found it tucked between the cushions of the sofa after I had fallen asleep the previous night writing in it and retired to bed, forgetting about the notebook. 

There was screaming, a few objects thrown. An anger at the way I had written about him and my mother. It was all truth, of course. I never knew why he had the audacity to treat us the way he did, but not enough courage to own up to it, denying it entirely and loathing the truth I wrote about him. He could not hope to face the man he had become and took it all out on me.

I slammed the door of my bedroom hard enough for the frames on the walls outside to rattle. No one could bring out my father’s worst traits in me better than the man himself.

The day was cold, my windows closed. I wanted a breath of fresh air, but with my bad luck that day, I probably would have lost my balance and fallen out of my window and broken my neck on the pavement below.

That’s when my eyes fell on the brochure, shoved carelessly in my closet somewhere when I had been looking for colleges. My father had insisted on some local college not far from the house to cut back on the cost of living had I gone somewhere across the country or continent. 

We weren’t poor, exactly. Not rich either. And the campus on the brochure made it clear Hogwarts University of Humanities and Arts was not for people like me. With its grand castle-like buildings, the rolling hills that surrounded it, blanketed by snow in the winter when the photo had been taken, and the classical medieval looking classrooms inside, I wanted it more than anything I had ever wanted.

Greed, I suppose, could also be a flaw of mine. I am chock full of flaws. All the sins rolled into one. Although I hope you wouldn’t hold that against me. It is so much more interesting to get swept up in the amorality of it all.

From the moment I had laid my eyes on the brochure, I knew I wouldn’t stop at anything. I wanted to be there and I would. Sometimes my ambition showed through. Greed, ambition, hubris, maybe not concerning on their own. 

I flipped through the brochure, eyes scanning the important parts of the text. Perhaps if I could get a scholarship, which was certainly possible with my above average grades and excellent record in my local university.

[thestobingirlie]

casually scrolling the steve tag and see another 'steve was failing a class and eddie got assigned to help him pass' fic.

these people cant have even watched the show.

eddie was canonically held back twice

steve graduated on time with a serious concussion in his senior year. he got a c- in a class nancy described as impossible. and he was on sports teams which often have a minimum grade boundary before someone could be on the team so they're not neglecting their education for their sports.

there is no universe where eddie was smarter/ better in school than steve in any way shape or form.

every time i see debates about steddies smartness i remember that person talking about steve being actually dumb and illiterate. and then i fly into a blind rage.

anyway <3

eddie failed high school fucking twice, and describes getting a d as something he had to crawl towards. he’s not good at school! he just isn’t! ain’t nothing wrong with that!

but clearly his stans see a lack of academic smarts as something to be ashamed of. so shove that off on steve (who we all know they love to put down)

if there is any couple that we should be writing cute tutoring fics for it is stancy!!! we see with our eyeballs nancy helping steve with an essay on screen!!!!

[lidiasloca]

can you do a fic where cardan get jealous loveee your work btw

jealous high king Cardan (jurdan fic)

Post QoN

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄☆

“She’s just playing the part, Cardan,” the Roach tells me, patting my shoulder. “And you should remember this was your idea.”

I guess it actually was my idea to gain the favor of a faraway powerful someone that Jude told me would make a great ally. And I guess it was also my idea that we did this through my wife’s charm. So he is somewhat right…

“Oh, shut up. I can’t hear what they’re saying,” it's what I answer, though.

The Roach's chuckle becomes a distant sound as I walk closer to my wife and the idiot that now happens to be touching her arm. Caressing it up and down. Each time closer to her shoulder, then to her jaw and neck and collarbone and-

“Harold,” I greet, making him look up at me. Jude turns to me as well, one arm still linked with his.

And though she notices my fixated glare there, she doesn’t give away any reaction other than a charming smile.

Harold, however, seems smarter, and moves his arm from hers. Good.

“King Cardan,” he says with shaky voice. I grin wide.

“High King Cardan, if you may.”

“Cardan!” Jude barks, clearly irritated. When I meet her glare in silence, she angrily takes my hand and leads me through the ballroom, totally dismissing stupid little Harold.

“What are you doing?! I almost had him,” she says as we walk.

I stop in my tracks, making her too. “You almost had him,” I repeat. “And what exactly does that mean, lovely wife?”

Jude regards me for a moment, frowning. And when she speaks again, her voice is soft, as if she had understood where my mind had gone: “You know what I mean with that.”

“I thought I knew, but that was before you two got so handsy with each other,” I replied. “Then, I wasn’t exactly sure if a political alliance was what you really wanted from him.”

“Cardan,” she breathes, calm and understanding, and inclines her head to the side. No, that won’t work.

“Jude,” I mimic mockingly. Which makes her chuckle softly.

“I did let him get a bit…handsy,” she admits. “Sorry, Cardan. I didn’t think it would bother you, since we both know my intentions with him. But,… I’m sorry.”

Instead of answering, I let a silent moment unfold upon us. Our eyes are the only thing that communicates our understanding with each other.

“Plus, he’s not that handsome,” she says eventually. “Too soldier-like for my liking.”

At that, I can’t help but laugh. “You’re so funny, huh.”

She smiles as she places her hands on my shoulders, starting a dance. “Do you forgive me, Cardan?”

I nod before slowly spinning her.

- characters by Holly Black

i missed writing so much. thanks a lot for the request and the lovely compliment, made my day fr <;3

[tsbs-ship-hate-confessions]

Honest to God there is nothing more hypocritical of a bunch of whiny proshippers complaining about hate

yet preach free speech as long as they get to jerk off to kids getting fucked by their parents.

The hypocrisy is appalling.

'oh oh proshipping doesn't mean that stuff anymore, we're Clearly anti censorship oh oh the horrors of being called a creep for making celestialcest smut and giggling about siblings diddling each other. but we totally don't glorify dark topics why would you say such a thing'

like pick a fucking struggle. deal with the consequences of your actions. None of this is okay.

And mind you, this is coming from someone who is a major proponent of dark fiction. people should get to write whatever fucked up shit they want to. coping, venting, idc the reason

but you cannot honest to God be stupid enough to assume you're not a walking red flag. No one owes you trust that you're 'doing it for the right reasons' or 'don't support the morally stripped content' just like how you don't have to owe anyone an explanation. That street goes both ways

It's even stupider, when these fucks are all like 'u should clearly know I don't condone this'. I'm sorry, are we all a hivemind now? Are we above communication? It literally cost nothing to add a note of 'hey btw I think this shit isn't okay in case you can't read the room'. if ppl decide to assume bad faith after that then that's on them. but being a fucking mule about it? really? thought we were supposed to be adults here

speaking of which

"Children shouldn't be reading this anyway, My audience is smarter than that" ok thanks for infatizing and being ablest. nothing says fun like attempting to grow and try new things regardless of learning disabilities. or do you think we all roll over and die before highschool?

Also are we gonna brush past the part where the sun and moon show is literally made with kids in mind? Why again are we so desperate for smut over a show literally built around found family? 'everyone here is so immature' yeah bud, it takes one to know one. we were all kids. all of us were the newbies of the internet at one point. I ain't saying ya gotta hold anyone's hand or babysit but is throwing a hissy fit over finding spiders in a jar labeled spider the hill you really wanna die on? if you don't like it, leave

you literally preach that same shit yet seldomly follow your own advice.

Actually, let's go a step further: you're not welcomed here anymore than the gore anons are

P.S.

The reason why murder and gore is more acceptable than pedophilia smut is because one of these attracts actual predators. Porn is still porn at the end of the day, whether it's video or a picture, or words. and if it's on a screen it will fuck your head up the same way you can't have just one cigaret. it's always 'one more can't hurt' until it's an addiction you cannot escape from. And once someone is in that cycle, it gets worse. because soon the same thing that got rocks off doesn't work anymore. so then you find something stronger to get that high. then you have to find another stronger way to get that same effect

And that is exactly how convicted pedophiles go from using fictional kiddy porn to actual csem. There is actual fucking evidence for this shit with neurobiology and psychology to back it up

TL;DR violent video games don't create serial killers because people can only have a dopamine addiction. video game addiction is like sugar addiction Porn however can most definitely create pedophiles and rapist because of the involvement of dopamine, oxytocin, norepinephrine, vasopressin. porn addiction is like meth or heroin

These 2 are Not remotely comparable to the other 2

ALL, actions have consequences. It does not matter if you are a celebrity, or a fic author with 3 views. You are not an exception, and you feed the machine that gets kids groomed, trafficked, and even killed when you choose to sexualize and normalize pedophilia and incest.

So if you're getting shamed for getting giddy over shipping shit like Killcode and Bloodmoon or Sun and Dazzle. maybe you should think long and hard about why that is.

This is so much bigger than fighting over 'making dolls kiss'.

Get the fuck out of a fandom filled with kids before you get someone hurt

-

[echo-writes-things]

Hi I’m angsty anon😛 I recently got back into the saw movies and am now hyperfixating on them after seeing saw x in theaters. Wondering if I could request a fic about the father/daughter relationship between Amanda and John? Wondering if you could write Amanda getting the shit beat out of her like how Eric beat her up and John’s reaction, what he would do, if he would clean her wounds and take care of her, etc.

YES I CAN I LOVE SAW I COULD KISS YOU ANGSTY ANON IVE BEEN SO DESPERATE FOR SAW ASKS

Psycho Family Headcannons:

Let’s be real Amanda gets into fights a lot. Not even on purpose it just follows her wherever she goes

John always patches her up and tries to make it a lesson. That classic old man “we can learn from this” fatherly advice

It’s a ritual every time they run out of bandaids Amanda gets to pick new bandaids (yes she picks princess bandaids not for herself but to make hoffman use them)

John always hates that he can’t step in and stop Amanda’s fights. He’d ask Hoffman to do it but we all know he’s go “no no I wanna see what happens”

One VERY RARE occasion Amanda had to go to Jill for help getting patched up instead of John because he was gone probably for a doctor’s appointment. It was awkward but they both appreciated the experience

John is gone a lot for doctors appointments (cancer check ups usually happen every 3-6 weeks depending on the stage at least that’s what I experienced) each time he comes back he hears Amanda getting into a fight.

Eventually he pulls the “I won’t always be here to fix you..�� and she bursts into tears (see what I did there? I referenced Saw III)

One day Amanda got into a real bad fight with a victim, blood everywhere and most of it was her own.

John when full panic. “What happened?! Who did this to you? How are you feeling? Anything broken? Maybe I should take you to the hospital.”

Amanda calmed him down but he still made her sit her gay ass down so he could patch her up.

John may know some stuff about simple first aid but anything past that he’s lost. Stitches? He can barely hold his hand still. But he’ll put some gauze on it and if need be he’ll have Hoffman do it since he’d definitely know more about that sort of thing.

If she’s crying he’s wiping her tears and telling her that it’s all gonna be okay. “I’m here now. Let’s get you cleaned up”

She called him dad once when she was crying from being hurt and he had a wave of emotions. He has mixed feelings being called dad. It was meant to be for his son after all, not this homicidal maniac druggie he picked up off the street. But he lets it slide after a while and eventually gets used to it

Hoffman never makes fun of Amanda while she’s hurt but once she’s cleaned up he bullies her relentlessly

John then has to break up the fight between his two mentally unstable children, “you shouldn’t be fighting each other like this. Honestly you’re both acting like preschoolers”

John isn’t one for “treats”. He’s not gonna give someone a lollipop for not crying during their shot you feel me? So he doesn’t really give Amanda anything after he patches up her wounds. He’ll give her a pat on the back and encouraging words like “you’re strong and you’re smarter than fighting aimlessly like this.”

John is against the whole “Don’t start fights but you can finish them”. He thinks people should just walk away entirely. Silly man doesn’t realize you can’t always walk away, Amanda has tried explaining that but he won’t listen

Amanda is desperate for hugs from John. She never asks for them verbally but he can catch on when she needs one

Despite him practically being bed ridden his hugs are firm as fuck, one of those hugs where you kinda cry a little no matter who you are, just from how nice it feels

Sorry it’s not a fic! I might write an actual fic using these but I’ve had these headcannons held in my brain ever since I saw these tragic mentally ill people. I’ve got so many headcannons and theories please people send in asks for them.

[katnissdoesnotfollowback]

For the WIP game, do you have plans to add add any more to Outside the Lines from the Outside Chance universe? You single-handedly got me shipping Prim & Rye(n) hard b/c of this fic 😂 And from in progress, You + Me and/or The Cold Side of the Bed?

Alright, we'll cover all three. <3 Below the cut because it's a lot of text.

Friend. I am totally going to throw my beta under the bus on this one. PRIM AND RYEN WERE NEVER PLANNED. I was not gonna go there. Buttercupbadass, however, had other ideas. "Wouldn't it be funny if Prim's 'spa day' was her sneaking away to be with Ryen???" she asked. "Oh it's so cute she had a crush on him!" she says. "Screw it. I want them [Prim & Ryen] to get married," she puts in her edits/comments on ch 17 of Outside Chance, and not on a Prim and Ryen interaction even. That's what bba commented when Prim is saying goodbye to Eirik when she and Katniss are leaving Skaid after their summer visit!

Thus began an entire barrage of her reasoning, possible scenes and dialog, and then... THEN bba mentioned how funny it would be if Katniss accidentally saw a naked Ryen in the background of a Skype call one day and I lost it. So much of that story has roots in my personal life and well... so does that, unfortunately. But after that, the whole concept became too delicious for me to resist. And also, bba was right. They belong together.

I absolutely plan on adding more to Outside the Lines. At the moment, I feel the need to finish writing the next chapter of Outside Chance because that's the root story. I build Outside the Lines and Outside Expectations around what's in Outside Chance, and in a lot of ways, Otl and OC are kind of written simultaneously. So here's a snippet from the next chapter of Outside the Lines and lord help me if bba sees this, I won't hear the end of her prodding to get it done lol ;)

--

“So you’re the flavor of the week. Is there anything you can tell me about Ryen’s mental state going into this competition?”

“If I were really just the flavor of the week, why would you think I’d have any insight into his mental state?” I retort. There’s not much I remember about Agnes Mellark, other than a vague impression of cold aloofness. But how much of my idea of her has been stained by what Katniss and Ryen have told me about her? I don’t know.

I can’t even tell if she recognizes me right now. Maybe it’s too soon to play this hand, but I can’t resist. Maybe because it’s proof that I know Ryen far better than any of his previous flings. Maybe even better than the woman confronting me right now.

“Aren’t you his mother? You should have a better idea of his mental state than me,” I say with a smile. Really, I’d like to stab her in the jugular, but with what? Couldn’t smuggle in a knife, and am unfortunately not wearing my favorite four inch heels, which would be a perfect weapon.

Agnes purses her lips and her eyes wrinkle at the corners. Oh shit, I think and prepare to run, but she shakes her head and chuckles slightly.

“I wish I could say that my son were smart, but he usually thinks more with his dick than his brain,” she says and eyes me. “You’re every bit as beautiful as the others, but smarter, aren’t you?”

“I’d like to think I am,” I say.

“Good. Maybe you actually have a shot at getting him to commit, but don’t hold your breath for it. He won't admit it, but he needs someone with a brain to keep him in line, to challenge him and keep him from squandering his talent.”

“Multiple Olympic medals and world cup titles count as squandering his talents?” I ask. She takes a step back from me and I hold in my triumph that I got a response. 

“Maybe not, but his personal life is a mess. I just want to make sure you deserve him and treat him the way you should. Don’t be like that trash his younger brother keeps falling for.”

Oh no. She did not. Fuck this bitch. I don’t need a knife to destroy her.

"Oh you mean my sister?" I say with a wide smile and hold out my hand to her. "I guess you don't remember me. Primrose Everdeen."

**

You + Me is another one of my outstanding Everlark Fic Exchange prompts. This one is from 2019 (I think? *cringes in shame*), and was for either K or P as a romance novelist who secretly uses the other for inspiration in their writing. What happens when they find out?

This one has been super fun to write, if a little slow going, mainly because there are multiple moving pieces to it. Now for a snippet!

--

Katniss… we live together when we travel. I think I’m aware of all your annoying habits by now. ;)

And here I thought I was something of an enigma.

Nope. Open book to me.

Shit. 

Does he mean…?

My brain is scrambling, but I take a deep breath and manage to reign it in. He knows I’m a published writer. His words could merely be a reference to that. This can’t be good. Has he already figured it out?

Before I start plotting a heist to break into his house for a book burning party, I manage a decent, mostly innocuous text.

Hey what’s the title of the book you’re reading? Maybe I know it and can spoil the ending for you. ;)

Not on your life, Everdeen.

Just reached a plot twist in between your texting barrage. 

A delicious plot twist. ;)

Oh?

The hero is not who I was expecting. Dun duh dun!

The wheels squeal and I rush off the train as fear rises up in my throat. Oh god, he’s figured it out. What gave me away? The food porn passages, probably. He’s got to be reading The Thrill of the Hunt. That’s the only one I can think of where I pulled a bait and switch with the hero. 

The street is crowded and I have to tuck my phone in my pocket to navigate the crowds. When I get there, I’m still unable to answer him because even though I’m early to meet my editor, she’s ready for me.

“Katniss, darling! Welcome, welcome! Have a seat please. The cappuccino is fresh,” Effie trills as I’m ushered into her office and offered coffee.

Oh this cannot be good. Whenever Effie has liked my pages, she forgets her manners. Excitement precludes etiquette. But when a writer needs a kick to the creative pants… that’s when she’s the picture of perfect manners.

“That bad?” I ask when her assistant is finally gone, the door shut and a hot cappuccino gripped in my hands.

“They were...how to say this…?”

“Shit,” I supply and she scowls at my language.

**

And finally, since you asked about it, The Cold Side of the Bed was something I started for one of the "This Would Have Happened Anyway" challenges. I don't remember which one, only that the prompt was for Everlark in District 13. I never managed to finish it, in fact I've barely started it beyond a vague outline and the opening scenes, mainly because I was still finishing my degree at the time and pretty much would crash after finals then not be able to muster up the energy to write fanfic. But also because it kind of turned into an epic story. Short synopsis: Non-reaped Everlark winds up married to different people after their last reaping. The rebellion still happens and 12 is still bombed. Some of the story would be about them getting to 13, but the juicy stuff happens while they are in 13.

--

When I wake, the other side of the bed is cold. I reach out through the rough material, seeking a shred of the warmth that would exist if Primrose didn’t still climb into our mother’s bed after a nightmare. Not that I am surprised she had a nightmare last night. This is the day of the reaping, after all. I slowly lift my head to peer across the room at them. The three of them curled together for comfort. My mother, my sister who grows more achingly beautiful every day, and the ugliest yellow cat in the world. He sees me watching and hisses at me.

“Yeah, I know you’d be happy if they called my name today. Lucky for you, they just might.”

After all, my name is in the bowl 28 times today. I dress and join Gale in the woods, relaxing as I make my way through the thick summer foliage to our meeting place.

“How’re you planning on celebrating your freedom?” he asks as we make our way back towards the fence when we’re done hunting. It’s been a glorious day and we’ve got quite the haul. I’ll need the woods to keep providing like this in a few weeks. When the Games end this year, I start working in the mines.

I shudder slightly and give Gale a look. He just shakes his head and laughs. I don’t need to say it. It’s not exactly freedom, aging out of the reaping and into working down in those mines.

“You thought about what I said?”

“Gale,” I say and stop walking right before we reach the fence. He stops too and sighs, looks up at the sky. “I told you I can’t think about that right now. Not when Prim will still be—.”

“And I’ve got Rory still eligible and Posy about to start in a few years, but I’m still thinking about it. How’d you explain that? How about Nathan Dawson and Lilah Bronski? They’ve already decided they’re getting married some time after the reaping if they both make it through. Lots of people think about it, Catnip, and lots of people do it.”

“Well lots of people are stupid then,” I snap and Gale sighs.

“Alright look, just forget I said anything. Let’s go make our trades before we make you late.”