#that takes guts and courage to admit your faults

[keischreiber]

I love it when characters realize their mistakes and apologize.

Because there is nothing wrong with admitting that you are at fault when you realize that you have been mistaken.

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

Clothes make the man

AN: There is no plot here. This is just porn. I have nothing to say for myself other than this is Kai's (@lovelyhan ) fault, and this outfit has haunted me for three years now. I had to get this out of my system. I resisted with the Daddy kink this time around but, this is still me largely pushing my 'Joshua is kinkier than I feel like people give him credit for' agenda so. Now I'll disappear in shame and embarrassment *finger guns.*

Synopsis: You don't expect to feel so strongly about one of Joshua's stage outfits.

Heads up: Joshua Hong x Fem! Reader, established relationship, Dom! Joshua, Sub! Reader, mentions of previous thigh riding, Reader mentions boot humping in passing once, scent kink if you squint, hand and arm kink of sorts (Reader is really into Josh's hands and arms), praise (f. receiving), pet names, Reader has an oral fixation, Reader sucks on Josh's fingers, hints of a size kink, dirty talk, mirror sex, nipple play (f. receiving), degradation (f. receiving), risky sex/public sex (they fuck in Josh's dressing room and are vaguely worried about being caught), vaginal fingering (f. receiving), mostly clothed sex, me pushing my big dick! Josh agenda, unprotected piv sex, Reader sucks on Josh's fingers post fingering, it's insinuated that Reader is a masochist, rough sex, dacryphilia kink, creampie and Reader being plugged afterwards.

Word count: 3499

I will block you if you are a minor and have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

The cool air from the air conditioner prompts you to tug your cardigan closer to you as you continue to catch up on your scrolling for the day while you wait for Joshua. He texted you that he'd likely be finished with his group shoot for the day in the next half an hour or so and, that you could just wait in his dressing room before the two of you head home.

He finds you completely engrossed with your phone when he does eventually finish up for the day. His lips ticking up in amusement since you still haven't registered his presence.

"Is what's on your phone really more important than your precious boyfriend? I'm hurt," he says with a faux pout to catch your attention. Leaning against his dressing room door.

You pointedly choose to ignore his chuckle when his voice quite literally causes you to jump in your seat. You turn to face him sheepishly, "Hi, Josh. I'm sorry I didn't realise-"

The words die on your tongue in an instant when you take in what he's wearing.

His shirt accentuates his shoulders in a way that is wholly unnecessary. Worse still, his arms are on full display for you to drink in. Muscles flexing and veins visible while he stands there with his arms crossed. And god, his pants. They all but force your eyes to focus on how they flatter his thighs, and you're suddenly hit with a barrage of memories. Memories of Josh flexing them underneath you while you hump them in an attempt to cum. An amused gleam in his eyes as he watched you because you both knew you'd never cum the way you wanted to.

Is it horrible to admit that even his boots are so attractive? In the very deep, private parts of your mind, you think he'd like the idea of watching you grind against them to get off. Maybe if you ever find the courage, you'll ask him.

"Are you okay?"

You're broken out of your thoughts by Joshua's concerned voice. Blinking, you focus back on him only to find his handsome face twinged with confusion and worry. The way his inky hair sticks to said handsome face isn't helping your conundrum, but you do feel guilty for worrying him when you're spiralling over him in one of his stage outfits.

"Yeah, I am. Sorry, I just got a little in my head there."

"In your head? About what?" Dread coils in your gut at the question. You're determined to look anywhere but, directly at him. Fiddling with your phone in your hands while your mind races to think of a half decent answer.

"Um- just school. You know, this semester's been pretty busy. Plus, I have a few assignments due in the next month, so I've been trying to figure out how to schedule my calendar around them. Then it'll be the holiday, but you know never too soon to start preparing -" You're rambling. You know you are, and so does Josh, but the words continue to tumble out of you.

"You're a terrible liar," he interrupts, and you can hear the smirk in his voice clear as day. To your absolute horror, he's moving closer to you until he's intimately in your personal space. Oh, this is worse. So, so much worse. Because his scent invades your senses too and, embarrassment warms your face when it dawns on you that you're wet.

His large, warm hand cups your jaw and gently nudges your face up until you meet his intense gaze. His thumb strokes your cheek gently when and, you so badly want it in your mouth instead, but your mouth feels as though it's been stapled shut.

Dread, anticipation and desire form a lethal concoction in your veins when Josh's face shifts from concern and confusion to understanding. The corners of his plump lips lifting up in way that muddles your mind further and causes more of your wetness to trickle onto your panties.

"Oh, I get it now," he rumbles with a laugh that's far too amused, "If you wanted me, you could've just said so." You suddenly find his face mere centimetres from your own with hold on your face keeping you from shying away. Even after being with him for all this time, you still find it difficult to meet his gaze head on occasionally. Maybe you're afraid he'll see just how truly far gone you are for him. Maybe his eyes will finally devour you whole and, you don't know if you'd ever be able to come back from that.

"Where'd you go? Come back to me," he coaxes gently, his face softening momentarily while his thumb drags along your bottom lip. Blinking up at him you finally find your voice again and the words rush out of you, "I'm here. I-I want it. Want you."

Kissing Josh is perhaps one of your favourite activities to partake in with him. His lips are so soft and, even as his tongue teases its way into his mouth, he takes his time. Determined to rile you up just with his mouth and his firm grasp on your face. Your hands reach up for him, feeling like you'll be driven to madness if you don't touch him somehow, somewhere, anywhere. Your hands find purchase on his massive biceps. Hisses pressed against your lips when your nails bite into his skin.

A whine leaves you before you can stop it when he pulls away from you, looking down at you through dark bangs and lidded eyes. "Can we go home?" You ask, your panties starting to cling to you uncomfortably just from this godforsaken outfit and some kissing. You're not sure how much longer can take not having him.

"What's got you so riled up?" He asks instead, genuine curiosity colouring his tone. You elect not to give him a direct response, "Can't I just think my boyfriend is hot?"

"Oh, you absolutely can and, while I'm flattered, we both know me being just hot doesn't get you nearly this worked up," he retorts, leaning down once more to lightly kiss along your neck. His hands shoving your cardigan from your shoulders until it pools around you. You bite back the whimpers that so desperately want to fall from you with every brush of Joshua's lips against your sensitive skin. Your thighs rubbing together in search of any semblance of relief.

"Come on, be a good girl and tell me," he mutters, one of his large hands dragging down your body until it rests a little too high on your upper thigh. "Or do you want me to get it out of you another way?"

"Your outfit," you blurt out immediately, you know Josh's mind is always coming up with frighteningly inventive ways to punish you and, you don't think you could handle that today. Not with how you're barely keeping it together as it is, "You- You look good. Really, really good."

That makes him take pause, "Really? That's it?" He doesn't sound judgemental or as though you just told him the most idiotic thing the world. Just... genuinely surprised.

"Yes," you whine, "Now can we go home please?"

You nearly choke on your spit when he resumes his assault on your poor throat, and his hand finds itself between your thighs, automatically spreading for him because of course they do. Something guttural and from the depths of his chest hit your ear when his fingers brush against your slick panties. Prompting your hips to chase the friction, tightening your hold on him as well.

"Fuck. Fuck, you weren't kidding," he breathes as though you've completely knocked the wind from him. However, he's gone from your body in instant, "Shua, where are you-"

Your question is answered when you see him lock the door only to stock back over to you, his erection testing the durability of these pants and somehow making them look more appealing. Saliva pooling in your mouth while your walls clamp down borderline painfully around nothing.

"My poor baby. I don't think you'll last until we get home," he says, his thumb dragging along your bottom lip. His eyes darken further when he eases it into your mouth, and you suck immediately. Just happy to have anything occupying your mouth.

"I'll just take care of you here. Up," he commands, stepping away from you to give you space to rise to your feet. You blink up at him but when you're only met with an eyebrow raise, you stand up immediately. Letting your cardigan, phone and bag rest on the chair as your boyfriend looms over you. The intent in his eyes more than enough to quicken your heartrate and stiffen your nipples under your casual dress.

"So you do know how to listen," is all the warning you receive before you're all but, shoved against his vanity. One of his hands fondling your breast over your dress while the other drags you by the hip until there's no space between the two of you. His erection burns against your stomach even through the layers of your clothing. Just as heavy with intent.

You moan into his mouth with every brush and squeeze of his hand over your breast, electricity shooting straight down your spine to your clit with every one of his touches but, it's not enough. You want to feel him.

Before you can comprehend what's happening, Joshua has always had a knack for being six steps ahead of you, you find yourself facing your reflection in his mirror. You already look like a mess. Eyes glazed and a little watery with your lips bruised from how thoroughly he's been kissing you. The straps of your dress barely cling to your shoulders, and your breasts jiggle with every heaving breath you take.

A gasp flies from your lips and you hold onto his vanity when Josh presses himself, more specifically his erection, against you once more. You think you may lose your mind if he doesn't just fuck you. You're sure you're more than wet enough to take him by now. You're not quite sure whether you want him to keep his clothes mostly on or, touch his soft skin.

"You're distracted again," he tuts against your shoulder before pressing featherlight kisses to all of the skin he can reach there. A stark contrast to the way his hands roughly tug down the straps of your dress, your breasts free and goosebumps rising when they're met with the cool air of his dressing room.

He meets your gaze in the mirror as he touches them once again. A choked whimper gracing his ears when he barely drags the tips of his fingers over your nipples, "Maybe I'm doing a bad job keeping your attention," he pouts but, that look is in his eyes. Your knees nearly buckle when he tugs on them more harshly this time, soothing them with gentle rubs that make you feel dizzy.

"Is this why you didn't wear a bra today?" The drop of a few octaves in his voice significantly worsen how empty you are in this very moment, "So I'd touch and play with your tits?"

"What a slut you are."

His words coupled with his stupid, stupid, skillfull hands force a drawn out mewl from your throat. Your foggy mind desperately trying to find any words to respond to him.

"Josh- Shua, no I- I didn't think I'd take long to pick y-you up. So, I didn't wear one," you whimper in response after a particularly harsh tug. He puts on a show of humming in thought as though he's not still pinching and toying with your nipples, tears building in your eyes with ever minute he's not inside of you.

"I don't know," he drawls, the air in your lungs stopping as one of his hands snakes its way down your dress until it reaches the apex of your thighs, "Something tells me you didn't wear one so I'd just have to bend you over and fuck you."

If everyone could only see their sweet Joshua now. Spilling filth against your skin while his hand assesses how wet you are and his hips shallowly grind against the swell of your ass for a bit of friction. They'd likely have an aneurism.

A moan far louder than you intended bounces off the walls of his dressing room when his fingers find your clit over your ruined panties. His eyes shutting briefly as if to collect himself before he continues drawing steady circles. You've never been more grateful for the table in front of you because you're sure you would've collapsed into a heap on the floor if you didn't have it to support you.

"Not too loud," he mutters into your skin with a self-satisfied glint in his eyes. His hand slipping into your panties to touch you a directly, his throaty groan combining with the moan that you couldn't quite bite back in time when as his fingers tease your wet folds. Your eyes screwing shut as they shallowly dip in and out of your neglected hole.

His hands still, and that prompts you to open your eyes, confused as to what made him stop. "None of that. I want you to see. I want you to watch," he says, his reflection holding your gaze once more. His other hand drifting to hold your jaw in place. Not too harshly but, with enough pressure that you know better than to move.

Whether as a reward or because he simply wants to, eventually sinks a thick finger into you. The stretch prompts a jumbled mess of gasps and whimpers from your chest. Your eyes barely remaining open with the relief of finally having something inside of you.

"There you go," he groans against your neck, his teeth ghosting over your skin and leaving goosebumps in their wake, "That's my baby."

The angle is a little awkward but, your hips chase the curls of his finger regardless. The need to shove down all of your noises of pleasure becoming increasingly challenge with every exploitation of your weaknesses Josh uses against you.

You don't receive much of a warning this time when he eases a second finger into you, this time the stretch is a little more than you can handle, "J-Josh," you choke out, your wetness dripping down his palm.

"My slutty girl you're doing so good," he coos, kissing the back of your neck while he grinds his erection against your ass, "Taking my fingers so well. Can't wait to feel you on my cock."

That causes a more visceral reaction from you. Your walls clamping down on his long fingers as one of your hands grabs his forearm, "Please. Pl-Please. Shua please. I-I want it please," you couldn't feel embarrassed if you tried. Joshua tended to have that effect on you.

He rests his head against your shoulder briefly, "Gimme a second," he says, the dip of his voice sending shudders down your spine. You cringe a little when he pulls his fingers out of you, your wetness coating them generously. You watch him unbutton and unzip his pants with baited breath, "Can you- can you keep your clothes on?"

Joshua meets your gaze with his eyebrows raised before that knowing look returns to his face. He laugh would sound beautiful if you his cock wasn't minutes from being inside of you and you weren't dripping onto his dressing room floor, "Sure."

Your gratitude comes out as a strangled whimper when the fat head of his cock prods at your slick entrance, "I don't know if I should be offended that you're this wet because of some clothes and fingering," he mutters. You couldn't respond to him even if you tried. Your mind just occupied with the idea of finally being filled by him.

"Cock drunk already huh?" He muses, meeting your gaze briefly before glancing down to watch himself split you open. His quiet moans being drowned out by your much, much more vocal ones. You're not sure you'll ever quite grow accustomed to his first thrust. Especially given the rush and your impatience, his slow push into you stings a little bit more more than usual but, the pain only fuels your arousal.

"Fuck," he groans and you're inclined to agree with his sentiment, "Always so wet and tight for me." If you could find the words you'd tell him the reason you're so tight is because of how big he is but, you're too preoccupied with trying to remain standing.

He's nestled so deeply inside of you when he finally bottoms out. His hips flush against yours and his tip kissing your cervix, quieter whimpers leave you with every throb and pulse of him inside of you. "Open," he grits into your ear, his fingers still slick with your wetness resting on your bottom lip. You open your mouth without much of a second thought, the slightly salty taste of your wetness flooding your taste buds and you realise very quickly why Joshua shoved his fingers into your mouth.

He pulls back only to thrust back into you without much mercy, your moans fortunately being muffled by his fingers. His heavy, lidded gaze takes in the way your drool around him, some of it dribbling past your lips while he continues to fuck into harshly and quickly. He's not sure how much time he has left before someone comes knocking so, he'd rather make this quick. He can take his time with you when you're at home.

You gag around his fingers slightly when he angles his thrusts marginally, smirking when he hits that spot inside of you that causes you grip him like a vice and nearly go limp in his arms. Joshua supports you through it all. Hitting that spot over and over again until overwhelmed tears trickle down your face and you're sure you could cum from this alone and, his muffled groans and grunts with every unforgiving intrusion.

"You know what your tears do to me, baby," he moans hoarsely, his thrusts stuttering slightly when he drinks in the combination of tears and spit smeared on your gorgeous face. All you can do is nod hurriedly. Telling him without telling him that you want it. You want him to cum.

"My precious cumslut of a girlfriend," he laughs breathlessly and without much humour, his pace picking up considerably and the sounds of your wetness and his heavy balls slapping against you ringing out obscenely throughout the room. "Always so greedy for my cum," he moans against your shoulder, his other hand hurriedly reaching between your thighs to rub frantic circles against your neglected clit.

Now you really are happy he had the foresight to make you gag on his fingers. You're not sure you could've silenced yourself even if you tried your utmost. The symphony of your choked noises of pleasure and Joshua's muffled ones join the increasing noises echoing throughout the room. Your walls tighten around him viciously, your toes tingling and even more tears springing forth from your eyes.

Josh cums first. A throaty groan of your name and a few curse words your only warning before you feel him pulse inside of you. Ropes and ropes of his warm cum flooding your awaiting pussy, his hips jerking into you sporadically and his hold on you almost bruising. His attempts to keep rubbing your clit proved fruitful because it doesn't take you long to tumble over the proverbial edge along with him. It takes a significant amount of conscious effort not to bite down on his fingers as your orgasm rocks your system. Josh moaning again as your walls spasm and clamp around his softening cock.

Once you'd ridden out the more intense parts of your climax, Josh removes his fingers from your mouth. Your shared, laboured breathing the only sounds that could be heard.

"If I knew you'd react like this to my outfit, I would have worn it sooner," he says with a chuckle that sounds far too full of himself. Not that he doesn't have a right to be but still. "You just look really good okay, god," you mutter once your voice finds you again. Cringing both from the scratchy quality of your voice and, Joshua slowly pulling out of you. Quickly putting your panties back in place. A surprised gasp flying from your lips when he pushes the fabric into you with two of his long fingers.

"Wouldn't want you to waste it," he says, his eyes heavy with want once again when they they find yours, "After all you worked so hard being my little cumslut. Who knows, maybe if you manage to not leak a drop I'll fill you up again."

You resent the way your body shudders but, you nod all the same, "I won't spill a drop, Shua."

Reblogs are greatly appreciated.

Do not repost, edit, copy and/or translate my work. I do not give you my permission to do so, nor will you ever receive it.

[moutainrusing]

aphrodite’s anger

“You have angered Aphrodite,” the Goddess Athena stated, lips pressed into a thin line as she stared at the subject of her patronage, Remus, who was scribbling away ardently on a piece of parchment at the rickety wooden desk by the slit-sized window.

He looked up with a furrowed brow, then squinted slightly as the sunlight shining through the slit hit his eyes. “How?”

Athena shot him a withering look. “I don’t know how to make this more overt. You are Remus Lupin. You are brilliantly sharp-witted and daring. You should therefore be living life to its fullest, taking courageous risks, making wild discoveries… and yet, you insist on cooping yourself up inside this shambolic shack, doing absolutely nothing. I only remain your patron in the hope that you somehow unlock your potential.”

Remus blinked. “Um. Sorry. Thank you, Goddess. But… how does this affect the Goddess Aphrodite?”

If possible, Athena looked even more annoyed. “Aphrodite does not understand why I stick with you. She has seen you rejecting adventure, never utilising your power, and, worst of all, seen you turn down love. She’s furious.”

“Oh.” Remus paused. “When did I ever turn down love?”

Athena looked like she was combusting out of frustration. She gritted her teeth. “I have helped you all I can. It is not my fault you are oblivious.” With that, she disappeared, leaving Remus to his old, derelict hut.

He wasn’t alone for long though, because only a few seconds later, the fisherman from the other side of the island swung the door open, calling, “Come out for a stroll, my love!”

Remus rolled his eyes. “For the last time, Sirius, I am not your love.”

Sirius mock-pouted. “Fine. But it’s not healthy to just stay in here all day! Come down to the coast, Remus.”

“I’ll pass.”

Sirius frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“…Nothing? Don’t I always turn you down?”

Sirius shrugged. “Yes. But usually you only look slightly pathetic, still convinced that you’re happy to live vicariously through your imaginary stories,” he explained, gesturing to the scrolls strewn across Remus’s shack. Remus frowned, but before he could defend himself, Sirius cut him off, “Now, you look like you’ve completely given up, even on your stories.”

Remus realised the truth to this observation, and he squinted at Sirius, not because of the sunlight, but because Sirius was confusing and strange and… different. A good different. A different which made Remus want to explore it, except Remus wasn’t an explorer, no matter how much Athena insisted he was. Really, he didn’t know why the Goddess still stuck with him. Or why Sirius did, still barging into his hut every evening without fail.

Finally, he admitted, “No point in writing anymore.” He shrugged in the most careless manner he could muster. “The Goddess Aphrodite is angry with me.”

He glanced up at Sirius, whose face had immediately fallen. In fact, Sirius had completely deflated, no longer looking animated and cheerful, just lost, like he’d been punched in the gut.

Quickly, Remus added, “Don’t worry, I’m sure it’s all fine. I’m fine.”

Then Sirius broke out of his frozen state, and threw himself at Remus, gripping him by the shoulders, shaking him, hugging him, vociferating, “No, this is not fine! She could kill you! Turn you into a monster! Drive you to insanity! Remus!” Remus listlessly nodded, and Sirius sighed, slumping into Remus. “I’d still love you, though. Even if you were dead, a monster, or insane. You’re already insane.”

Remus laughed at this, gently pushing Sirius off. It was a thoughtful joke. No one could really love someone like him. He was already dead: he was barely living his life. He was already a monster: every full moon since childhood, he turned into a wolf, not that Sirius knew that. And he was already insane, yes. His mind was a mess, churning with incongruous thoughts, forever spiralling and multiplying.

He looked thoughtfully at Sirius, out of his window, at his scrolls. He decided, fuck it, I’m going to die anyway, “Could I borrow a boat from you?”

Sirius raised his eyebrows, before his face split into a beautiful beam. “Come with me, my love.”

Again, Remus rolled his eyes, but this time, he actually followed the skipping Sirius out of the hut, as he frolicked like a dog through the woods, along his well-trodden path between the coast and Remus’s shack.

Remus meandered after him much more slowly, taking in the smell of the scenery. Pine, smoke, fresh grass, soil… he hadn’t been outside in so, so long, and it really showed. He had simply locked himself up in his small wooden lodge, and stayed there, even through the full moon. Ashamedly, the only food he ever ate was the fish Sirius sometimes brought up to share, when he sacrificed his time to sit cross-legged with Remus on the stained floorboards and talk about meaningless musings. Maybe even more ashamedly, those times were Remus’s most treasured.

He made it down to the coast, where Sirius was waiting, with a huge, handsome masterpiece of a boat behind him. Its prow was a tall, regal wolf, which simultaneously terrified Remus because that couldn’t be a coincidence or maybe it could, but also made him gape in awe, because it was undeniably majestic. Who ever saw a wolf in that way? Sirius just grinned at him. “She’s been waiting for you so long, dude.”

Remus blinked. Sirius looked down at his feet and bashfully hesitated, “I— I built her while I was thinking of you, just a few months ago. I didn’t think you’d ever sail her— but, now, maybe, you… could? If you wanted. There are other boats—”

Remus pressed a finger to Sirius’s lips. To silence him, but also because he just wanted to get closer. “Sirius. I love it. Thank you. I wish I could give you something this amazing too.”

If possible, Sirius grinned at him even more than before. He burst out, “Let me come with you.”

Remus frowned. “What?”

“I want to go with you. On your journey. It can be your gift to me.”

“No, coming with me won’t be a gift. I— I’m going because… either way, I’m going to die. I might as well live a little first. But if you come with me, you’ll surely die too.”

Sirius shrugged. “What if I want to live a little with you?”

“I don’t want you to die.”

“I don’t want you to die. But everyone’s going to die at some point. So let me live with you for as long as you have left.”

“I— I want to live with you too,” Remus confessed softly, to both himself and Sirius. “But it doesn’t matter. I won’t let you come.”

Sirius’s eyes flashed. “I won’t let you go without me.”

“And how will you manage that?”

“I built the boat. I know her better than you do. Don’t think I won’t be able to sneak on.”

“I’ll kick you off.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because,” and Sirius sighed, shaking his head slightly, looking up at Remus with a soft gaze, his previous temper melting. “Be safe, Remus.”

With that, he walked away, and Remus felt his chest ache, longing to reach out and pull Sirius back. But it was okay. He could now set off on his travels in solitude, like the lone wolf that he literally was. He clambered onto the boat, and realised he had no clue how to actually sail.

However, Athena was his patron for a reason, and he quickly got the hang of things. He figured out that he could untie the fabric neatly twisted around the central pole through the middle of the boat, and that it unravelled into perfectly square sheets which billowed in the direction of the wind. The boat was then propelled by the invisible force, and when the force changed direction, he could also rotate the mast so that the sails changed in the same direction.

When there was no wind, he realised how useful the oars were, and expeditiously learnt that this way meant he would go forward, this way meant he would turn left, this way meant right. He ended up in the middle of the still, open ocean, feeling incredibly accomplished. Aphrodite, he thought, I wouldn’t mind if you killed me now.

Remus stood in the middle of the deck for quite some time, arms outstretched on either side of his body as the wind blew through him, ruffling his hair and filling his nose with a pinch of salty air. He closed his eyes, relaxed, letting himself feel, without the constant pressure of thoughts.

It didn’t last long though. Because at the noise of a door banging open, his eyes immediately flew open too. Right in front of him, from a small hatch in the floorboards, three fishermen stepped out, and Remus stepped back.

“Sirius,” he stated dumbly.

Sirius grinned. “Nice to see you too, Remus. This here’s James.” He pointed to the fisherman beside him, who shared his dark hair and height, but was wildly different from him in all other aspects. While Sirius’s eyes were a metallic grey, sparkling near-white in the light, James’s were a dark brown, so dark that Remus couldn’t see what was within them. James’s hair was a bird’s nest, and Sirius’s hair was a waterfall. Sirius’s skin was pale, James’s skin was brown.

But then James smiled, “Hi,” and Remus saw it match Sirius’s mischief almost identically. This was going to be trouble. Ignoring the trouble, he turned to the other boy, raising an eyebrow.

The short, plump fisherman just hesitantly smiled at him, and Remus deemed that he was probably more sensible than the other two, but equally clueless.

“That’s Peter,” Sirius pointed. He added, “Are you going to say anything?”

Remus simultaneously wanted to remain in unresponsive silence forever, and yell his head off at Sirius. Compromising, he turned around, and said, “Get off.”

“No,” Sirius sang. “You’re stuck with us.” He paused, adding more solemnly, “We’re just here to help.”

Remus’s shoulders slumped, and he turned around in a way that he was still pointedly not looking at Sirius, but at the other two. “And you both are here because…?”

James smirked, eyeing Sirius, before saying, “We’ve heard so much about you, it’s like we know you personally. Basically, we’re already friends.”

Remus considered this, quickly realising, “You’re the two best friends Sirius is always on about!”

James muttered, “Not in the same way he’s always on about you,” while Peter smiled, asking, “So… we’re already your friends too?”

Choosing to ignore James’s nonsensical comment, he addressed Peter, shaking his head and deciding, “Yes.” Yes, they were indeed his friends.

Sirius clapped his hands together. “That was heart-warming,” he declared, juxtaposing his statement by glaring at James, for presumably more nonsensical reasons. “Anyway, we are on a mission. Onwards! I think the next island is in a couple twenty miles.”

Remus threw his head back in frustration, before turning to face Sirius, who was already glaring at him with daggers that dared, “Fight me and you’ll lose.”

“Fine,” Remus spat. “Stay and die.”

“Thank you,” Sirius spat back.

Giving up, Remus walked to the trapdoor and disappeared below deck.

“He means well,” Remus heard a voice say, maybe twenty minutes later.

He turned from one of the mattresses to see James, nearing him with an amiable smile.

Remus snorted. “To who? Himself? No, he’s going to get himself killed. To you and Peter? No, he’s put you both in danger too.”

James shrugged. “He’d never let any of us die. And he means well to you.” James then looked at Remus very intensely, and Remus’s gaze skittered across the cabin, unable to handle it. Finally, James spoke, “He loves you.”

Remus just turned around on his mattress and tried to sleep. He couldn’t. But soon, sleep didn’t matter, as the boat began to rock violently, and Remus’s mattress full-on slid to the other side of the cabin. He shot up, and hurried to the top deck, where… there was nothing. In fact, the boat was still, empty, completely silent. But before he could question everyone’s disappearance, he saw it.

The most beautiful… creature he had ever seen. He was immediately enamoured with its long, scaly body, rising up over his head as it opened its lovely jaws, which were really so mesmerising. Its roar was mellifluous. Its eyes were so yellow and shiny. The creature made him feel so calm, peaceful, and he stepped closer and closer—

“NO!” The ferocious cry cut through Remus’s thoughts. His head jerked to the side abruptly, trying to locate its source as he deliriously concluded that actually the thing that made that cry had the most mellifluous voice in the world… so magical…

The beast roared again. No, that was the prettiest—

“LEAVE HIM!” No, that was the prettiest—

Roar! No, that was the prettiest—

“YOU VILE, REPUGNANT MONSTER!” A series of grunts, accompanied by the slashing of a sword. Remus shook his head, eyes landing on Sirius as he lunged at a giant serpent, which hissing at him, poised to kill him…

Remus didn’t know what to do. Well, there was one thing. He’d never done it before. It required a very strong emotion. And Remus didn’t do strong emotions. Only, he did, he just bottled them up and pretended they didn’t exist. But, looking at Sirius, he felt it churning within him, bursting from the seams of his skin as it exploded, erupted, surged out from the depths of his heart. Love.

Yes, okay, kill him for it — he was irrevocably in love with Sirius. Happy? The wolf within him was happy, at least. He let it grip onto the powerful emotion, let it overcome him, let himself transform, forcefully, willingly, in the light of a crescent moon. Before he was fully transformed, still with a grasp on his consciousness, he leapt onto the serpent, to ensure that it was the thing he would attack.

And attack it he did. They tore at each other, roaring, howling, ripping off chunks of flesh — no worse than what Remus did to himself, really, locked up in a tiny shack. Soon the wolf realised the serpent’s weakness: every time a claw swiped near one of its eyes, it would flinch, blink rapidly, reel backward. And so, the wolf quickly pierced its two bulbous eyes with a flash of claws, and suddenly, the serpent collapsed, and both of them tumbled into the sea.

Remus transformed back as he broke the surface, broken, defeated, with viscous yellow pus coating his hands, and blood dribbling from the cuts all over his chest, swirling in the dark blue water. He didn’t have the energy to swim back up. And he wasn’t sure he wanted to, anyway. Sirius had seen him as a wolf. As soon as he emerged, he’d be slaughtered. And he wouldn’t let the man he loved get any blood on his sweet, innocent hands.

But apparently, he didn’t have a choice in the matter. Because arms were wrapping around him, pulling him up to the surface, and as soon as they reached air, he heard two desperate inhales. One was his own. The other was… Sirius.

Sirius stared at him, breathing heavily into his face, and Remus knew he was doing the exact same. Their arms were wrapped around each other, and they were impossibly close, and Sirius looked relieved, not disgusted.

“So,” Remus caught his breath. “I— I’m a werewolf.”

Sirius released a breathy laugh, gesturing to the prow piece. “I know.”

“What? And you still… did all this?”

Sirius nodded, eyes sparkling, a small, shy smile on his face.

Remus blinked, squeezing Sirius to make sure he was real, which caused Sirius’s smile to grow less shy, more wide. “But— but you called that monster,” and Remus pointed below, “vile, and—”

“Shh,” Sirius whispered, breathing into his mouth, and Remus immediately shut up. “You’re not a monster. I distinctly remember being concerned that Aphrodite would turn you into a monster. Why would I be worried about that if I thought you were one already?”

“Oh.” Remus paused. “Well, your concerns were erroneous. I think Aphrodite’s punishment was to enchant me with a monster.”

Sirius grimaced. “Don’t tell me you were in love with that thing.”

Remus shook his head. “I broke the enchantment.”

“Uh… how?”

Remus sucked in a breath. “Well, real love usually has the power to overcome fake infatuations.”

“Oh? So, who are you really in love with, then? Hmm,” Sirius teasingly pondered.

Remus tightened his hold on Sirius. “You know who.”

“I’d like to hear you say it.”

“Fine.” Remus stuck his chin up defiantly. “I’m in love with you. Happy?”

“Very,” Sirius responded, immediately crushing his lips into Remus’s.

Although Remus broke away when he felt a presence looming over them. Sirius looked dazed for a moment, before his eyes also landed on the Goddess hovering over them.

“Aphrodite,” Remus acknowledged wearily.

She simply grinned devilishly. “Finally.” And then, she grumbled, “And I suppose Athena was right about you. Daring, smart, worthy of her patronage. I thought you might let the beast kill you all. But no, Athena was right. Damn you, now I’ve lost a bet. Although I believe I’m winning the bet on Marlene and Dorcas…” With that, she disappeared.

Remus blinked, before bursting into laughter.

From above, on the deck of the boat, James and Peter looked down at them. “Should we haul them up yet?” Peter asked.

“First I have to check something,” James responded. He dramatically cupped his hands around his mouth, and yelled, “HAVE YOU TWO SNOGGED YET?!”

Remus smirked. “Not yet.” And then he captured Sirius’s mouth in his own, and they snogged senselessly.

_________________

Back on the deck of the ship, Remus sighed and said, “Well, I suppose I should return to my writing.”

All three heads whipped around to face him incredulously.

“Excuse me?” Peter burst out, while the others seemed too speechless.

Remus frowned. “What?”

“You must keep adventuring!” James eventually cried.

“Remus.” Sirius stated gravely. “You don’t need to write stories anymore. You’re living the stories. With us.”

Microfic Compilation by MountainRuse

[the-banana-0verlord]

Swings(Deuce Spade x reader)

Note: angst with a happy ending, gn reader.

***

The creaking of the swings slowly went back and forth. Of all the playground, this was your favourite place. You never liked the other kids, and they didn’t like you. So everyone stayed in their own territory, you the swings, them the rest. It was a good arrangement, really. 

Suddenly, another creak joined yours. You looked to your right. A little boy with blonde hair was gently rocking himself, a gloomy look on his face. After few moments of hesitation, you decided to speak up: 

« Hi. »

 He looked up to you. His eyes told the story of his sadness. 

« Hi, he replied. 

- Are you okay?

-... 

-... 

-...No. 

-Why? 

-All the other kids keep calling me dumb. »

He looked away. You knew the feeling oh so well. You had also felt it before you put your foot down and claimed the swings. 

« All the other kids are dumb, you muttered. 

-Do you think I’m dumb? 

-...No. 

-Why? 

-I don’t know. »

 The creaking sound followed the silence as you both eyed the ground. 

« Do you want to play tag? You suggested. 

-Sure. »

 And just like that, your friendship blossomed through the rejection of others and the kindness of you both.

***

Until six years later, at the age of eleven, your unlikely friendship held. But the inevitable had to happen. 

« You need to stop picking fights! » you cried. You were treating Deuce’s wound by the swings. Since about three years, it had been a recurring thing. 

« It’s not my fault they keep provocation get me, he grumbled.

-But you keep getting hurt! I hate it! » 

He stood up abruptly, making you flinch back. 

« Well, it’s who I am! And if you hate it, then you hate me! 

-you know that’s not what I meant! 

- that’s it! I’m out! »

You watched tearfully your childhood friend walk away. You didn’t call out to him, because you knew he wouldn’t turn. Him, on the other hand, was waiting desperately for you to yell his name, to stop him from making the biggest mistake of his life, even if he won’t admit it. But the call never came, and he kept walking.

***

The Dark Mirror announced your dorm. You walked to your dorm mates, passing by the back of a boy with dark blue hair.

***

You opened the door of class 1-A, with 30 faces crowded in. 30 unfamiliar... and one familiar. The years had done him good, but you still recognised your ex-best friend, Deuce Spade. You hid yourself behind your hair, hoping for him not to notice you. You weren’t ready to face him after all this time. You quietly took place at the back of the class, being sure that he wouldn’t see you from there. 

But what you didn’t know, it was that he was as aware of you of your presence here. He had seen you at orientation. He needed to muster up the courage to talk- to apologise to you. How could he ever find the words to describe the gutting feeling that had followed him since that unfortunate day?

***

The familiar creaking sound brought a smile to your face. You had found a rusty pair of swings behind the abandoned dorm. You had put it back in shape in no time.

As it did eleven years ago, another creak sang along with yours. You didn’t look up-  You knew who it was. 

« Hi, he spoke.

 -...Hi. 

-... 

-... 

-I’m sorry. »

 You heard him take a deep breath. 

« I am so, so sorry. I... I did a mistake, back then. No, not a mistake. Hundreds, thousands of mistakes. But the first one was to leave you. I should’ve listened, but instead I disappointed you and Mom. School was hard, and skipping and bullying was easy. I’m not trying to make excuses. I know what I did was wrong, and I intend to make it up to you, whether you forgive me or not. »

 He fell silent, letting the creaking sound fill the empty space. Your hand left the swing’s chain to take his hand. He looked at you. 

 « I forgive you, Deuce Spade. »

 You turned your head towards him, a smile on your face. He smiled back, entertaining your fingers. All that could be heard was the comforting sound of your swings swinging in harmony.

***

Have a good day/night!

[cowboyjen68]

Hi Jen. How do I tell my wife I want to divorce? I think she’s not ready to let go of me. I know she’s not gonna take it well. Truth is I’m not ready either. But we also can’t keep this relationship going, we keep going through extremely toxic cycles and we have mutually exclusive needs with regard to place of living. I love her and want the best for her. I also love myself and I know this relationship isn’t good for me either. My mental health is really suffering from knowing that but not being able to initiate the separation. I don’t know what to say to her. I don’t know how to prepare. What to expect. Please bless me with your words of wisdom and comfort ❤️

Ps Thank you. You make the internet worth it. You are like family. ❤️

I am coming from experience on this answer. My wife and I stayed together many years because each was unwilling to "hurt" the other by admitting we were no longer(if ever) attracted to each other and there was no passion or love. We were existing as a partnership for the kids, the house, finances and the emotional vulnerability of the other but never once considerering ourselves. In our desperate quest to not hurt the other person we were not recognizing the absolute truth. Neither of us were happy or fulfilled.

The hurt of rejection, of feeling unattractive, unloved was a temporary situation that we should have entered years before either of us gathered the courage to finally just say the truth. When she, the braver of us, finally just said "I don't love you and I am not attracted to you" i felt waves of relief. Even if I had been in love, Even if had physical and emotional attraction to her I would have long ago picked up her undeniable signals that something was not right.

It was scary as hell to break up with kids, the house, and 17 years of memories and AT LEAST knowing I had one person who did know all about me and had stuck around. But we decided on kindness and civility (mostly). We had our anger, our flaws, our moments of mean spiritness but mostly we just tried to untangle it all quickly and in the best interest of our family. The kids told us they were thankful we split. They had sensed the misery almost from when we met them as foster parents.

Even if she is blind sided by your admission (which I doubt she will be) if you care for her you need to give her the opportunity for find fulfillment and love from someone who is on equal emotional grounds with her. The more time you waste the more of her time to find real connection with another is lost. She might or might not find love or companionship again and that is out of your control. But continue to stay and lie about things will certianly stop her, and you, from seeking happiness either alone or partnered. You can control that much.

Say the truth. You aren't happy, something between you and her is missing and for your own well being you need to divorce. Let her know you care for her enough to not keep hanging on to a lie. She deserves the chance to find love that you cannot give her and you deserve to the same.

How she reacts is not your fault and out of your control but that unknown does not justify staying.

Be kind. Make efforts to ease fears that no one is homeless or left with nothing but that staying in the same house or with each other, even as roommates, is a temporary sitiuaton. Set some goals for selling the house, or moving. Make an appointment with a divorce lawyer if you need one. You can do your own "no contest" divorce through your local courthouse but there must be complete agreement in who gets what. You can be gentle with her but you must also protect yourself and your security.

IF she reacts poorly listen to your gut and seek legal counsel. If she reacts well work together but don't let yourself get back into a routine of "we can just put this off". The familiar is often a call to complacency. Don't put off the hard things because you are getting along.

I hope this help. Breaking up with someone who is not the right person if hard but staying until there is resentment or even hate is even harder.

[stocky2016]

"Those Dark Patches"

When we look back at our lives in the past,

"owning up" is hard, but vital, to last.

Too often we try and wipe the slate clean,

but all our faults need be plainly seen.

No poisoned pride should cloud our view,

we must admit when we look back, how we were untrue.

No half-truths nor excuses can absolve our deeds,

the truth is we failed, and it's appropriate to concede.

Never look back, except perhaps, to review,

the past is gone, today is about what next to do.

The present is ours exclusively to be revealed

It's never too late to change and rebuild.

The journey of character reform and self-improvement

is both a tricky one to deliver, and understand;

But if we really set our minds to it,

it's not that hard to value and understand.

We invariably move on, if we learn from our mistakes

admitting our wrong doings, is key to our personal stakes,

Any pain that lingers, we can find ways to heal

mending the broken pieces, with a new light needing to be real.

The act of redemption, is good for the soul,

if you set out now, to achieve your revised goal.

Regarding friendships we cherish and moments to share,

open up and be honest with everybody and don't despair.

letting go of the "dark patches" from our lurid past

takes guts, and the courage especially, to make it last...

The fight for our freedom's not always fair

it's time to own up to the indiscretion of an affair.

Rising above it all, and pushing away despair,

no more living in fear of whats' hidden there,

To gain our liberty and again walk tall,

no more looking back, avoiding the preventable falls.

A new start, a new chance to be vibrant and true,

a light within, which you commit to pursue.

Take this opportunity, it's yours for the taking,

move forwards and benefit but without forsaking.

Shining a light on our darker shadows might fill us with glee

with nothing to hide our conscience becomes free...

No more doubt and no more fear

we should be able to hold our heads high, and slip into gear!

In the depths of our souls, shadows do reside,

Imperfections and flaws, that we cannot hide.

For we're not perfect, a truth we embrace,

but it's in acknowledging that , we find our grace.

In the tapestry of life, "dark patches" unfold,

lessons etched in memory, stories untold.

From the depths of our past, the mistakes we have made,

yet it's in such trials that our strength is displayed.

For what makes us special is our reactive insight,

to confront our demons, to make them right.

With introspection, we seek to understand,

the choices we've made, the harm we've banned.

No saint without sin, no light without shade,

its through darkness we grow, the path we have paved.

With hearts inclined to mend, we find redemption,

through the testing journey of self-reflection.

Each flaw, a canvas for growth and for change,

an opportunity to evolve, to rearrange.

With unwavering courage, we face the abyss,

to salvage our souls from its haunting mist.

Not defined by our past, but by how we strive,

to rectify the wrongs, to truly arrive.

With empathy as our guide, we try to make amends,

mending broken pieces, discovering new trends.

In recognizing evil, we bring it to light,

creating a world filled with hope, rather than fright.

With each step forward, we rewrite our story,

transforming the darkness, reclaiming our glory.

So let us not dwell on the mistakes we endure

but focus on the lessons, ensuring they're all secured.

We're not perfect beings, flawed we may remain,

but it's in our commitment to growth that we must gain.

Embrace the scars, for they make us unique,

a testament to the resilience that we all seek.

Through recognition, acceptance, and repair,

we become stronger souls, with love and care.

© Myriam Ghezaïl Ben Brahim ❤️🥀

7 December 2023 and

G.P.S. 30th November 2023

[gyqru]

LADY OF NAMEK — ethan landry

warning: home intruder? mentions of physical attack/gutting. tell me if i missed anything.

summary: after your encounter with ethan and chad at the party, you start to notice ethan everywhere you go. what a weird coincidence right?

word count: 2.7k

author note: this follows a one shot i made about the party scene so read that first to get some context. [do me a favor?]

chapter two

after the frat party, you can’t help but wonder how you didn’t notice the cardboard man before. seeing him when you walk into your math studies, or accidentally bumping into him in the halls; he was everywhere and you never realized it.

you thought it was a coincidence, yet ethan knew it wasn’t. it was easy to get your routine down. ethan followed you on purpose, but he stayed far away so no one would suspect him.

"accidentally" bumping into him? he did that on purpose, choosing when and how you two would collide. bumping into you when you had your hands full, purposely knocking down your books to help you pick them up.

he noticed when you would meet with your friends at the vending machines in the common area. noticed when you had certain classes you wouldn’t try as hard to look good, not that you didn’t always look good.

finally, after weeks of stalking, ethan has the courage to try and talk to you. before all your friends could arrive at your designated meet-up spot ethan goes up to you.

“h-hey! you’re that bunny girl from the frat party..right?” he tries to not sound overly excited, yet his voice cracks making him cringe internally.

startled, you look up, noticing the curly head standing right in front of you. “um hello? yeah, i’m “that bunny girl” you were the walking cardboard box, friends with the cowboy?” you titter, taking out your headphones to hear him better.

“well i was a knight but yeah—my name is ethan by the way” ethan quipped, scratching the back of his neck, a weird habit he has when he’s nervous.

“i know your name, we’re in the same econ study group,” you admitted. you noticed him.. you already knew his name.

that made ethans inside giddy, his mind racing with delusions. “well i just wanted to uh talk to you. i thought you were pretty—cool! pretty cool” ethan exclaimed, not meaning to call you pretty.

giggling at his awkwardness, you smile at him. he’s so nerdy it’s kind of cute, you think. “ha thanks e, you’re not so bad yourself. surprised you didn’t bump into me today” you told him. freezing at the mention of his antics, ethan laughs awkwardly.

“s-sorry about that, i swear it’s not on purpose” he lied, “i’m teasing ethan, it’s my fault honestly. how do i not notice you, a giant, walking towards me.” you joke.

laughing at your joke, ethan tries to get the courage to ask you for your number. he opens his mouth to speak but gets interrupted.

“my god you wouldn’t know the morning i— oh.” your friend mei approached, stopping once she noticed you and ethan together. “uh my bad… am i interrupting something?” mei asks, eyeing ethan. “no meimei, we were just talking” you explain.

“well you wouldn’t mind if i stole her for a minute would you? i’ll return her soon nerd boy,” mei taunts ethan. “okay mei that’s enough, it’s too early to start with your shit” you shove her arm away.

“sorry about her, she can be bitch but she isn’t that bad” you apologize to ethan, rolling your eyes jokingly.

“hey! i’m literally right here” mei scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest. ignoring her tantrum, you continue talking to ethan. “look here’s my number. we can talk more if you want” you grab a marker pen from your bag, grab his hand and write your number.

“oh okay yeah i’ll uh, i’ll text you! bye y/n” ethan beams, happy that he got your number without having to find it himself. “mhm, bye bye e!” you wave him off as your friend drags you away.

rummaging through your kitchen pantry, you try to find something to snack on. not realizing the looming figure that stalked your ground-floor apartment.

you finally felt at peace, mei isn’t here to scream at her computer, and chantel isn’t blabbering about her family issues.

successfully finding a bag of chips you start heading to the living room. until your phone starts ringing, startling you. reaching on the kitchen island, you turn it over to see who was calling you this late.

it’s an unknown number, you decide not to reply, letting it ring on the counter. before you can leave your kitchen, a second call hits your phone. now suspicious, you wonder who could be trying to reach you.

“hello? mei? did you lose your phone again? this is the fifth time you've used a pay phone," you say, pausing when you hear heavy breathing.

thinking of who this unknown number could be, you remember how you gave that nerdy guy your number. “ethan? is that you? why didn’t you just text me—“ you get cut off by the sound of a deep modulated voice.

“it’s not ethan, y/n.” the deep voice gravles. recognizing the voice instantly you roll your eyes in annoyance. you lean against your kitchen island and hiss, "this isn't funny ya' know. a voice changer isn't scary."

“let’s play a game y/n.” he stated, completely ignoring your insults. rolling your eyes, you end the call. fucking weirdos trying to scare me, you think. heading to the living room you settle back down to finish your movie.

a loud bang startles you, ripping your attention from the film in front of you. knowing that you're alone in your apartment, you do the most rational thing.

heading to your kitchen to arm yourself with a knife, your cell phone starts to ring again. you want to let it ring, to ignore it but deep down you know what’s to come if you don’t.

“what do you want?” you bark, pressing yourself into the furthest corner of your kitchen. “hang up on me again and i’ll gut you and use your insides as decorations” ghostface seethes. staying silent, your eyes dart around your kitchen trying to think of a plan on how to escape.

“aw, nothing sarcastic to say now? you hear me in your apartment don’t you?” he taunts, his heavy combat boots making your floors creak. fear starts to consume you, he sounds too close to where you are.

fear consumes you; you try your best to think of how to get out of your apartment. there's only one door that connects your kitchen to the rest of your apartment, leading directly to the living room. hearing him turn up the volume of the scary movie playing on your television, you realize that you can't just make a run for it.

you’re a sitting duck waiting to be killed.

sinking down to the floor in despair, you try to hide behind the kitchen island. shaky hands trying their best to keep a good grip on the knife you’re holding. “a-answer me, what do you want.” you stuttered out.

panic starts to bubble inside of you, his heavy footsteps slowly start sounding closer. the quiet sound of the kitchen door creaking open makes your heart sink.

as you prepared to fight for your life, you heard the front door handle jingle. a group of voices from behind the door can be made out; for the first time, you thanked mei for always having people in your apartment.

also having heard the group of people, ghostface makes a run for it. leaving the same way he entered. as his footsteps descend, you hear the door open. the phone call ending, you finally feel like you can breathe.

“y/n! im home, brought over some friends” mei yelled out. getting up, you place your phone and knife down on the counter. exiting the kitchen, you run into mei and hug her.

engulfing her in a big bear hug, she huffs in surprise. “y/n..? you okay babes what happened” she questions, hugging you back. ignoring the people around you go silent, you lead her to the hall that connects all your rooms.

noticing your room door was the one wide open, you cursed. he entered through your bedroom window. “what the fuck happened?” mei barked, noticing your room was a mess. besides breaking in, he decided to rummage through your room.

walking in, you immediately close your window and lock it. “y/n.. what happened?” mei repeats calmly, grabbing your hands and leading you to sit down on your bed.

“h-he got in and he c-called me and threatened me mei. he knew my fucking name!” you revealed, tears welling up in your eyes.

“who y/n? who threatened you?” mei demands, grabbing your shoulders to calm you down. “ghostface.” you muttered, scared if you say his name he’ll appear.

before mei could reply, a girl knocked on the doorframe of your door. “i’m sorry i didnt mean to interrupt” she says, noticing your teary face.

“it’s okay sam, actually glad you did. you would know more about this then i do,” mei got up, pulling sam outside.

after a couple minutes her friend, sam, sits next to you. “are you okay?” she asks, giving a reassuring smile. “i’m fine, i didn’t get hurt” you say, confused on why mei would send her friend to comfort you.

almost as if she could read your mind, sam starts to explain her and her sister's correlations with ghostface. “so if he’s after you and your sister, where does that put me?” you didn’t even know the carpenter sister until now.

“i don’t know honestly, now that he’s after you, this adds a whole ‘nother level of confusing” she acknowledged.

now a group of people have gathered at your bedroom doorway, and you're starting to regret what you said about mei earlier. "we don't want to interrupt, but mei explained everything," said a short girl with dark hair.

scanning over the four people you notice a familiar face. it's that cowboy from the party, the one who's friends with ethan. “uh it's fine, im assuming you all have also been victims of the ghostface attacks too” you said.

“yeah, for years now, welcome to the club” a girl who looked somewhat like sam joked, earning a pinch to the side from a taller girl and a stern look from her sister.

“right.. well thanks for everything really, but i’m sure i’ll be fine for now” you huff out, getting up from your bed. pushing past the group, you try to go find mei again.

someone followed you, pulling you into the privacy of the kitchen. it was ethan’s friend, the cowboy. “hey, i know this is a weird coincidence, but please. he’s doesn’t kill people for no reason, could you at least consider going to the police and giving a statement?” he pleads with you.

you argue that he didn't kill you. “it could’ve been someone pretending to be him or a sick prank, i just don’t want to get involved,” chad fell silent, you were right, he didn’t kill you, which is strange. still having so much on your mind you continue to rant.

“i also find it strange that you and ethan are all a part of this. i gave ethan my number yesterday, and now you’re in my apartment. this doesn’t feel like a coincidence…” you trail off, trying to make a correlation to all this.

“you gave ethan your number? how do you two even know each other?” he questioned, cocking an eyebrow. chad can’t seem to grasp that his awkward roommate could have the balls to go up to you and ask you for your number.

“we’re in the same econ study group” you say blankly. “look.. uh.. ethan’s friend, i appreciate the concern, but i really don’t want to get involved anymore then i have to.”you stressed.

"my name is chad, and if you're still alive, he's definitely planning something. you're already involved." chad retorted. god why does he care so much, you wonder.

“fine, i’ll give a statement but that’s it” you compromise, not feeling like arguing any further.

the ringing of chads phone startled the both of you, pulling out his phone he checks who’s calling him; it was ethan wondering where he was.

“i’m at a…friends” chad pauses before saying friends, not knowing if he should say he’s at your apartment. chad knew ethan had grown a liking to you, he didn’t want to jeopardize that for his roommate.

leaving chad in the kitchen, you walk into the living room. mei was talking to the rest of her friends, heads turning the moment you walked in. jesus christ these people were scary.

"i'm sleeping in chantel's room, mei. please tell her what happened before she gets angry," you sigh as you go to your roommate's room. you don’t hear meis reply, drowning in your own exhaustion.

laying down, you tried not to think about the situation. you didn’t even know if it was ghostface, you never saw who was in your house. the only sign of ghostface was the call, but that could’ve been anyone. soon you finally fell asleep, this was an issue for the police now.

weeks have gone past since your last encounter with ghostface, you stopped worrying about if he’ll come back. you had given your statement to the police but that was it. you weren’t traumatized like the victims of the woodsboro attack, so paranoia didn’t consume your days.

life returned to normal, partying whenever you could. to the naked eye all you cared about was getting drunk on a thursday night.

yet, you knew you hardly ever drank at parties. your rambunctious personality camouflaged itself with that of someone who has had one too many drinks. the way you dressed suggested the same, but you ignored that.

you’ve talked to ethan here and there, it was either friendly conversations or exchanging answers for economics. you’ve invited him to take part in your party lifestyle but he always declined.

as your hips swayed to the rhythms of the music, you failed to realize the pair of brown eyes staring at you. between two of your friends, the three of you danced together, not a care in the world.

"stop staring, man; you look like a creep," chad teased, nudging ethan’s side. "huh, what? i wasn't staring... was it that obvious?" ethan tore his eyes away from you to see chad’s teasing face. rolling his eyes, he went back to staring at you, admiring your addicting aura.

ethan eyed you as you said something to one of your friends, agreeing to your words you walk off. following you with his eyes he sees you go to the kitchen. (ironic)

excusing himself from chad, he follows you like a trained dog, never losing sight of you. upon entering the kitchen, you immediately go to the fridge, digging up something to drink for you and your girls.

before ethan can get to you, some random frat boy beats him to it. the random guy comes up behind you, wrapping an arm around your waist. your bent body shoots up, looking up to see who it is, your eyes immediately widen.

“drew, oh my god! hi!” you squealed, recognizing the tall boy. standing on your tippy toes to wrap your arms around his shoulders. smiling down at you he hugs you back, picking you up off your feet.

ethan watches this play out, feeling jealousy shoot through his veins. who the fuck was this guy and why is he so close to you?

he has you caged between his arms, his face leaning down to your ear, whispering something that makes you laugh. ethan couldn’t stand this anymore, turning his heel and walking back to find chad.

as the party went on, you stayed close to your friends. the guy from the kitchen also joined your group. only leaving them when you needed a drink. ethan was still stalking you, losing his patience quickly.

not because of you, but how at any moment you would be alone some random would always manage to flirt with you. their hungry eyes staring down your low-cut top, or their hands lingering too long around your waist.

giggling at whatever bullshit they said to you, your inviting gaze only leading them on more. it drove ethan insane, he wanted to drive his knife into anyone who even looked at you.

snapping back to reality, he realizes you aren’t with your friends. looking around he can’t seem to find you, get up from the wall he was leaning on he walks to the kitchen.

you weren’t there either, ethan knows you haven’t left yet so he continues looking for you. you were walking upstairs, by yourself thankfully.

perfect timing, ethan finally has you all alone.

alice talks ⋆ ˚ ꩜ ｡ ⋆୨୧˚

left y’all on a cliff hanger. kay so drew, mei, and chantel are ig ocs? they aren’t super important but they’re there. also im spacing out the actual events of what happened cuz i don’t want reader to just fall instantly for ethan (i know you want to be his but come on you barely know the guy) besides that should be all! i hope i didn’t disappoint, i know like four people wanted a part two so this is that part two. kinda proofread!

[leikakakkari]

video diary entry from September 15th, 2022 8:29 AM

“i have a question.. for anyone who’s ever hurt someone like really bad, like irreversibly hurt someone that you really love.. how do you live with yourself? it’s only been like a week, but i don’t see how it could get any better. i can’t do anything to make the situation better, and i can’t take back what i did and i can’t take away the hurt that i inflicted. i don’t know what to do. i just really really hate myself.”

i wish i could hug you. i wish i didn’t make you go through this alone. you were struggling so bad and i forced you to further isolate yourself. you didn’t deserve that. you deserved to be able to lean on your friends for support. you deserved to be able to ask for help. you were grappling with such a huge thing and i left you with nowhere to turn. i’m so sorry. no matter what the future brings, i will never let you do that again.

with a year under our belt, i’ve learned and accepted a few things. one thing i have learned is you did the best you could. you held yourself accountable. you admitted to your faults and you made sure you will never ever find yourself in a situation similar to this ever again. you tried to communicate and ask for guidance and you were led astray. i allowed us to ignore our gut feelings, ignore what we thought was right and we learned a very valuable lesson from that. we learned that we know what we need best, whether that be space, grace, time, or honesty. i knew what we needed and i ignored it and allowed us to be put in a situation that forced us to live in such an anxiety riddled state. i allowed us to be put into a situation where we were forced to analyze any interaction, any words, any action or lack of action.

there is some hurt that you will never be able to undo. there will never be the right thing to say or do. no amount of support or understanding can heal the wound. no amount of listening will make it better. we totally fucked up, and all there was left was acceptance and learning. all we could do was apologize, own what happened, change our behavior and mean it. and we actively incorporate that into our lives, even today. you so desperately were searching for some way to make this “right” and there just wasn’t one. you knew that in your soul but we allowed our perspective to be swayed by words. we should have been looking at this from the lens of facts and reason, not feelings. we knew that. a lot of the pain we harbor is because we never trusted what we knew, which ultimately became the truth.

you were expected to constantly be empathetic and understanding but i hope you hear me when i say not an ounce of that generosity was reserved for you. you experienced lash after lash and never once was empathy even considered. you understood and accepted that people are imperfect, they act out in emotional states and it’s harder to “pause before responding” but you were never once granted that same grace. remember that. remember that information was withheld from you and it was and still is being used as a form of control. remember that nobody in this situation cared about the confusion, the grief and the pain you were left to mop up.

it took us an entire year to even consider these things. it took an entire year for you to find the courage to vocalize what happened and express what impact it made on you, but you got there. we have had to fight for our ability to think clearly and truly know who we are in the deepest depths of ourselves and that is something that does not go unrecognized. your support system know the truth and that’s all we have ever once wanted, was for people to make an informed decision. and they did.

you still hurt. you still cry yourself to sleep most nights. you still become paranoid and anxious when you think about it and you’re absolutely petrified of what the future holds. you’re constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop but you fought like hell to work on yourself, your mindset and your ethics. you no longer wake up and wish you hadn’t. you no longer wonder what type of person you are. you no longer seek out things that hurt you because you feel you deserve to be punished. you recognize that you did the best you could with the information you had available and although it wasn’t perfect, you will find a way to give yourself grace and recognize the growth you’ve achieved in a year.

this hurt may never fully go away and i hope one day, we aren’t so jaded by it. but time truly does heal all wounds and we just have to give ourselves grace.

love you. 🤍

diary entry from september 15th 2023 5:18 AM

[caseyfm]

𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐲 // 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘪 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

with song selection reasons under the cut !

Track i: Codependency by Orla Gartland . ‘I keep diggin'. Tell me I'm worth it, tell me I'm perfect. It's like I'm half alive. And it's all my fault.’ 

Very much gives me the vibes of their dynamic in high school and how they were always competing over something. Casey would never admit it (truly.... the difficulty in writing this boy smh) but I think he sought a lot of approval from Harvey until the point it bred resentment from not being able to be good enough.

Track ii: When We Were Young by Adele . ‘Everything just takes me back to when you were there.’ 

I listened to this while writing the last words meme and ended up practically bawling but it’s them! It reminds me of them so strongly! The opening verse? Harvey in a nut shell in Casey’s eyes. Especially where they’re at currently where it’s this... tentative space of maybe forgiving each other but not knowing when it might sour again as they still haven’t addressed much. There are so many lines in this that I could literally grab with my hands and yell about. Getting mad about growing old and becoming more reckless? The idea of him as a home? ‘I still care, do you still care?’?!?!?!? That want to not grow up and just hold onto this nostalgic view of a person who existed at a very specific point in time... ugh. The entire song fucks me up. 

Track iii: Rockland by Gracie Abrams . ‘I feel like if we gave it one night, You'd hate me less and make it alright. Just wish that we could fight now. I'd hold you on the comedown.’

‘Bet you wish you never even met me, I don’t blame you’ hit me straight in the gut. Very much picked due to Casey’s want to actually fix things but not having the courage to actually do so, so instead he’s left with this wonder of who is taking that space in Harvey’s life now. Also picked it as that theme of wanting to provoke Harvey to fight him as it’s the only way he really knows how to draw that same kind of care from him. Still being cut from the anguish of losing someone you were that close to... treading that fine line between hate and love and all that.

Track iv: Bad Friend by Rina Sawayama . ‘I'm so good at crashing in, Making sparks and shit but then I'm a bad, I'm a bad, I'm a bad friend. // Put your hands up if you're not good at this stuff.’ 

I’ll say it...... I love Rina and I use any excuse to have a song by her on my playlists! I’m guilty! But also this one has sat on my main Casey playlist for months. The ‘maybe I overreacted, well, maybe you shouldn’t have’ sums up the hypocrisy of Casey’s feelings perfectly. Also a lot to do with his own negative self image and perception of how he’s only good for a good time! 

Track v: How Many Nights Do You Dance With Tears In Your Eyes? by Love You Later .  ‘What happened to "I love you you're my best friend"?’ 

‘Now you’re just a ghost but I love you still’ really sticks out to me. I wrote something in my app when I first joined about Cherry being full of ghosts for Casey (metaphorically but ig physically now too!) and this is exactly what I meant. I feel like... a lot of Harvey for Casey currently is just the memories even though he’s very much a living man!? Also obsessed with the ‘how tragic, love like magic, this is not what I imagined’ as I don’t think Casey really thought about how wounded he’d be by not having Harvey in his life. 

[mothwingwritings]

Special Treatment

F!Reader X Yujiro Hanma

Well, here is another Yujiro Hanma story. This time it’s from his POV and is a companion piece to In The Dead of Night, so it may be a bit confusing as a standalone. Regardless, now that it’s out of my system maybe I can focus on writing for other characters again. :D

WARNINGS: Stepcest, stalking, voyeurism, sexism, mentions of sex but no actual sex, use of the term daddy, trespassing, Yujiro being Yujiro, language.

Enjoy!

Yujiro Hanma was not a man you interrupted.

Not when he was speaking, not when he was relaxing, not when he was eating, and certainly not when he was training. Especially right now, when he had just started his morning routine, had barely finished his stretches, and was entirely in the zone. Anyone who did interrupt him in this state was either a complete idiot, or in this case, an ignorant child that didn’t know any better.

He could hear your tiny feet pattering down the hall from a mile away, knowing there was nothing in this wing of the house you could possibly need other than him. His irritation grew the closer you came, and he debated if he should intercept you and ingrain in your brain to never disrupt him again, or leave you to your devices and see if you had the gull to make it all the way to him. He leaned towards the latter, as he had to admit he couldn’t’ help being the tiniest bit intrigued. To the best of his knowledge, you were scared shitless of him. You definitely would not be seeking him out without a valid reason.

Yujiro had very little interest in his own children, let alone someone else’s.  It didn’t matter if they were his sexual partner’s or the offspring of someone he respected, if the kid didn’t show some form of promise in the art of battle they didn’t register on his radar. Needless to say tiny, meek, insignificant you definitely fell into that category.

So he had no reason at all to have an interest in you. You certainly weren’t his flesh and blood, and to him your mother was just a glorified doll of sorts, someone to fuck around with and relieve tension. Wasn’t really his fault she got some cushy idea in her head that she was special, that with enough nagging and persuasion he’d settle down with her and become the husband and father to her daughter that she always dreamed of having.

Your mother’s thought process was deluded, but she knew not to push her luck and was skilled in attending to him in just the way he liked, which was more than he could say for most of his extracurricular conquests. You, her sole child, were tolerable as well, being someone who was overall quiet, obedient, and mostly just kept to yourself and out of his way.  You were a pretty little thing too, sure to draw a crowd the older you got. He wasn’t easily charmed, but there was something undeniably pleasant about you. He chalked it up to novelty. He didn’t typically stick around for the birth and early stages of his own children, but the ones he knew of were all male. Having a little girl around was something new.

Yujiro’s back faced the entry way, but he could feel you presence lingering behind it as you worked up the courage to come in and tell him whatever you needed to say. Did your mother send you? Most likely, and if that was the case you were sure to have something annoying to request of him. She liked to send you to do her dirty work, thinking he would be less irritated if her foolish demands came from the lips of a child.

Annoyance was turning into mild anger at how long you were taking. It was radiating off his body when he heard the door squeak open, swiveling his head a fraction to monitor your entrance. From the corner of his eye he caught half of your tiny face peaking up at him from behind the door, you small hands gripping it like a lifeline. It was almost endearing that your child mind felt a door could act as protection from him.

However, the fact you even had the guts to make it this far was in and of itself amusing. He wasn’t going to acknowledge you, not yet. He wanted to see what your next course of action would be.

He proceeded with his training, paying you no mind. You remained quiet as he moved fluidly, practiced motions executed with the utmost precision. He could feel your eyes follow his movements, taking him in as he honed his body. A quick glance back noted a look of awe, reverence even, had overcome your young face. He smirked, pleased by your reaction. You seemed to know your place better than even your mother did.

After several minutes of this had passed, you caught on that he wasn’t going to address you. At this point you had snuck your way inside and plastered yourself against the back wall, doing your best to shrink down your already miniscule form, frightened of encroaching even an inch on Yujiro’s space. He noted that you had something in your hands, a small wrapped up box you were clutching protectively to your chest.

“Um, e-excuse me?”

Your quivering voice called to him, but it did not stop his stride. You took a small step forward, but didn’t drop your guard.

“I’m really sorry to bother you…”

Your words were once again met with a prolonged silence. With careful footing, you inched yourself a few feet into the room. He was curious to see how far you were willing to go before you fled.

“… D-daddy?”

The word sounded forced as it stuttered from your lips. Yujiro had never directed you on how to address him, but in the past you had always either used ‘Sir’ or ‘Mr. Hanma’ (he preferred the first). This was a new development, something he was sure was another brilliant idea your mother had forced upon you. His body halted, and he turned slowly until his eyes locked with yours. You flinched under his piercing gaze, but otherwise remained still.

“What?” He barked, causing you to jump. You gripped the package a little tighter to your chest, but you remained silent, wide eyes staring up at him blankly. Yujiro frowned, “You forget how to speak? Spit it out, I’m busy.”

“I have a present for you,” The words spilled from your mouth in a flurry as you jutted the package his way. He noticed your small arms shaking as you held the box out to him, fingers pressing into it so hard it was warping the packaging and crinkling the paper it was encased in.

Today was just full of surprises.

“Why?” Yujiro commanded, turning his full attentions your way.

“I-it was your birthday,” you explained, a red hue coming to your round cheeks, “I’m sorry it’s late, I didn’t see you until now.”

It was true. Yujiro’s birthday had been several weeks ago. He didn’t spend it with your mother, or even in the country where you resided. Your mother had started to make a fuss about it a solid month in advance before he forcibly shut her up. She had nagged on and on about a party, decorations, catering- all shit he didn’t request or even remotely desire. It was his damn birthday so he spent it how he pleased, which just happened to be as far away from your harpy of a mother as he could get. Afterwards he had received a gift from her of course, but wasn’t expecting anything from you.

He stalked his way towards you, yanking the extended box from your hands when he approached. It was small enough to fit in the palm of his hand, and wrapped well with an attractive looking dark red paper. He wondered for a moment if you had done that on your own or if your mother had helped. A child’s scrawled handwriting on the tag denoted that the gift was for him from you. He held the box to his ear and shook it once, hearing nothing but a dull thud against the cardboard.

“Don’t,” you called, sounding flustered, “It could break!”

He snorted, “You sure you didn’t do that already with how hard you were gripping the damn thing?”

His comment made you blush harder, and he smirked. Maybe this whole situation was a ploy, some kind of tactic to try and lure him more towards your mother’s lofty goal of a family. You were certainly presenting yourself as an ideal daughter. Dressed to the nines, poofy dress matching the large bow sitting primly in your (hair color)ed  tresses, pure white knee socks complimenting the jet black of your mary jane shoes.  Red remained on your round cherubic cheeks, long doll-like lashes framing your expectant (eye color) eyes. You looked like you just walked out of a family photoshoot, and by most people’s standards, the way you were presented now was nothing short of adorable. Unfortunately for your mother, Yujiro wasn’t most people. Your beguiling appearance would not work on him so easily.

“Trying to suck up to me?” he spoke, ripping the paper from the box, “Would have been better to start with something that isn’t threatened to break at a tiny shake.”

You frowned, looking deeply uncomfortable as he ripped into the box. Yujiro realized how nervous you must be feeling, you were well aware the next moments that played out would either end amicably or with you deeply regretting interrupting him to begin with.

He dumped the contents of the box into his hand, his eyes traveling from your gaze to the gift. A small, handmade clay bowl now sat firmly in his palm. The sides of it were lumpy, too thick in some places and thin in others. There were intentional divots of varying sizes along both sides of the rim, and the depth of it was negligible, far too little for most everything you would need a normal bowl for. Despite its flaws, it was sturdy with some heft to its foundation. It had also been painted in varying shades of blue, small lines etched into it to simulate waves, and an even coat of glaze was applied to it which gave it an appealing shine.

“What is this?” Yujiro asked plainly, looking bored.

“It’s an ashtray,” you offered softly, “I made it.”

“I can tell. No one would pay money for something this sloppily constructed.”

Your entire body deflated at his comment, your clear (color) eyes glossing up and bottom lip quivering, but no tears ever spilled.

“If that’s it, leave,” he commanded, his voice harsh as he made his way back towards the center of the room, “And next time think a little harder before you interrupt something important with bullshit like this.”

You bowed, a garbled apology rushing from your down turned mouth. Skittering as quickly as you could to the exit, your foot caught on a small rug on the way out. You caught yourself before you could fall, the tips of your ears turning bright red in embarrassment as you exited the room, door shutting softly behind you.

Yujiro had received many gifts of varying importance in his illustrious life. Things were given him to appease him, praise him, celebrate him, or bargain with him. He’d tasted and experienced some of the best things the world had to offer through these gifts.

But no one before you had ever hand made him something.

He scoffed, pocketing the ashtray. “Mine as well make use of it.”

~

And now, years later, here he stood in your apartment.

You hadn’t invited him, but that didn’t matter. He didn’t need permission to get in most places, why would his daughter’s home be any different? Besides, it happened on a whim anyway. He was bored, in town, and it had been awhile since he looked in on you. Yujiro was a busy man with a lot on his plate, the majority of his children he didn’t even bother to know the name of let alone drop by for a visit. But for whatever reason, when moments would get quiet and he’d be completely alone, his mind would often travel to you.

It wasn’t as if Yujiro went out of the way to check on you after he departed your life all those years ago. You were an afterthought, if anything. But somehow Baki got tangled up with you and keeping an eye on him would occasionally bring news of you. When Yujiro had gotten indefinitely tired of your mother he figured that would be the end of you in his life as well. However, he caught wind that you were alive, contacting Baki, and had even tried to get the cops to go after him for what he had done to your mother, and he couldn’t help but find it hilarious. Little docile (name) who always did what you were told and never stepped out of line, trying to get some form of revenge against him? Consider him amused.

With newly formed interest, he began to watch you grow from afar, from child, to teen, to adult. He ended up being right too, you did grow into a beautiful woman. If only that beauty extended to your personality, as you had become quite the wiseass when you reached adulthood. You couldn’t help but seem to run your mouth in the rare chances he spoke to you, shooting him dirty glares and just all around being a brat. He could fix that easily, but there was something appealing to him about your little attitude problem. He took a sense of pride in being a constant thorn in your side, someone you tried desperately to shake, but just couldn’t quite do so. He knew your vibrato helped mask how truly frightened he made you. The main reason you were so adamantly dodging all contact was because you were worried what might happen to you once he got you, right?

So he let you and run your mouth for now, it was something that would be fun to fix. And since you seemed so hell bent on avoiding him, he decided to go out of his way to visit to you. Weren’t you special?

It wasn’t the first time Yujiro had been to your apartment, but it was the first time he had been in its interior. He had scoped the place out numerous times in the past and concluded it would have been easy enough to get access inside, but he had found another complex a block down from you that just so happened to be newly renovated, so plenty of apartments were open for lease. As it worked out, the building also had a few more stories than yours, and one of the apartments in particular gave a nice little peek right into your apartment, as long as you had binoculars (or the keen eyesight Yujiro had). Lucky for him, you liked to keep your windows open, giving him a full view into your private happenings with you none the wiser. He usually wasn’t one to creep around and watch from afar, much preferring his presence to be known. But there was a reward in seeing you unguarded in your natural habitat, unwittingly baring your true self to him. It was exciting knowing that at any moment he could disrupt that peace in an instant. In those moments of vulnerability, he would relish watching you so at ease and blissfully unaware. His hawk like gaze would hone in on your form as you graced him with his own private strip show, peeling off layer after layer until your body was bare, a wolfish grin plastered upon his face as he mused over how you would respond if he were to barge in on you right then and there? When he did decide to stop by for a visit, there was no place to run off to when you were already safe at home, was there?

Needless to say, he rented the apartment.

It was interesting how the world worked. Some kid who by all means he had no reason or desire to have any form of bond with, was now an adult he was actively keeping watch over. Go figure.

On this particular night, he’d busted in your back door, figuring overall that would cause less of a scene. It was almost comical how easy the locking mechanism crumbled with the tiniest amount of force. Was this supposed to protect you? He snorted, making a mental note to ask Strydum to replace it with something stronger.

Initially he wasn’t sure if you would be home or not. But based on how late it was he leaned towards discovering you nestled on the bed or couch, relaxed and ready for a calm night before bed. When he was only greeted with silence, he decided he mine as well make use of his free time before your imminent arrival.

Your apartment was on the smaller side, but neat and properly cared for. He could tell that you put time and effort into decorating it, little touches here and there marking the rented space as your own. It was cozy, inviting, and everywhere he looked so reminiscent of you. He would have liked something more spacious while he waited for you, and overall would have preferred to not have to wait at all, but was glad he decided to stop by and the extra time gave him the chance to make himself at home.

He made his way through the apartment, scrutinizing gaze sweeping over your domain, taking it all in. He gave no second thought to barging into your bedroom, and he wasn’t shocked to see that much like the rest of the apartment, it was compact. You utilized your space well though, your bed and other furniture arranged to give you as much space as possible. This room in particular seemed to ooze you, a little microcosm of various physical belongings catered to your tastes and personality.  It was a bit messy, with clothes strewn about and empty water bottles on the dresser, but it was not dirty. A pleasant scent hung in the air that didn’t seem to be in any other part of the apartment. Floral and feminine, is that what you smelled like? You never got close enough to Yujiro for him to tell.

Walking around the room, he rustled through your clothing and belongings with a bored disinterest. You had quite an extensive wardrobe, but any article of clothing he saw would be much more appealing either on your body or destroyed and littered on the floor pre-coitus. Not that he had any true desire to know of your fashion, to Yujiro it was enough just to look, disrupt a few things so that later on you would be aware he had been there.

Immediately exiting your bedroom, his attentions were drawn to a wall of photos. Colorful frames brought life to the cream colored walls, the pictures within them of varying topics drawing him closer. Here you were before him, preserved in various stages of life, capturing you on trips and spending time with loved ones. His eyes stopped on an image of you and your mother. Seeing the two of you together made him realize just how much you took after her in looks. You weren’t entirely her spitting image, but the family resemblance was undeniable. He didn’t know what your birth father looked like nor did he give a shit, but he couldn’t help but try and search for some of his own features in your young face, regardless of you not truly having any of his genes. He mused momentarily on what it would be like if you were truly his kin. Would his feelings towards you be any different? He snorted at the asinine thought.

His eyes darted down to a smaller picture directly beneath the one of you and your mother. Not much bigger than a Polaroid, there wasn’t anything particularly flashy about the photo itself that would have made him take notice. However when his eyes fell upon the subject’s in the image, he began to feel agitated.

You were in the picture, and you were beaming. By far the happiest you looked in any of the other photos on the wall, the smile on your face radiated warmth, sincerity, and pure joy. There was only one other person in the picture with you, a boy. He looked equally as pleased, a delighted grin befell his lips while his scrawny arm was draped snuggly across your shoulder. You were leaning into him (or was he pulling you?), your head resting snuggly against his chest as he in turn rested his cheek on you head. Captured forever in time this way, the frame that surrounded it was dainty and pink, highlighting the romantic feel of it all.

Yujiro frowned as he plucked the photo off the wall, it dawning on him that this had to be your boyfriend. You looked much the way you do now, meaning that this was taken recently, and judging from the background foliage it could even have potentially been from this season. He tutted in disappointment, this ‘man’ hanging all over you was scrawny, pathetic, and weak. If you were going to go for a man he needed to be just that, a man. Not some little bitch that would fall over if the wind was too strong.

He glanced up at the clock. About a half hour had passed. Is this idiot who was keeping you out so late? Was he really stuck here twiddling his thumbs while you were out fucking around with some two-bit twerp? You were honestly making him, Yujiro Hanma, wait for you while you what, sucked off some kid at his even smaller apartment?

His agitation turned to anger. Effortlessly, he crushed the photo in his palm, frame and all. He reared his arm back, and with a flick of his wrist, sent the memory flying through your back door. Good riddance.

Pissed off, he stormed to your couch. It audibly groaned beneath him as he flung his body onto it in a rage. Kicking his feet up on table before him, he glared daggers at your front door. As much as he hated waiting, expending time and energy by going out and hunting for you irked him even more. He shouldn’t have to go after you. If anything you were the one who should be seeking his company and approval.

So he would sit and wait patiently for your arrival, stewing up suitable punishments in his head the whole time. He scoffed. Here he was, the strongest being the world, waiting like a goddamn dog for their owner to come home. The fact that he was still even in your shitty home was perplexing. He was even confusing himself with this bullshit.

But then again, you were his only daughter, so maybe you deserved some special treatment?

~

Yujiro was brought to attention by the sound of your footsteps on the outer stairs. He must have dozed off, as glancing up at the clock it was now very early in the morning. He sighed, stretching his body a bit to shake off the residual sleep. His little nap helped cool his head, which was good for you. He was no longer ready to unleash his fury as soon as you stepped through the door.

But that didn’t mean you were getting out of your transgressions easily. He waited a long time to have some quality time with you, and it was only right of you to answer all of your concerned father’s questions and give him your undivided attention, wasn’t it?

Yujiro hadn’t turned on any of the lights in your apartment, but he could still see you clearly as you squeezed past the doorway. With eyelids so heavy you were struggling to keep them open and heavily drooping shoulders, you looked absolutely exhausted. And you must have been to not even be aware of his overwhelming presence perched several feet from where you stood.

He smirked as he watched you yawn and bolt the door closed behind you. With your guard completely down, now was as good a time as any to make his presence known.

“Isn’t it a little late to be slinking back home?” Yujiro called out to you, a condescending air to his voice.

You whole demeanor instantly changed. Your slouched body jerked to attention, a slight shake relaying a shiver had passed through you. You remained turned from him until you hesitantly flipped the light switch, turning your gaze his direction painfully slowly, not wanting to face the reality you knew was behind you.

As your eyes locked, a rush of excitement coursed through him. Dread, despair, confusion, bits of anger, all swirling around in your (eye color) gaze as you took him in. He did a quick once over, noticing nothing amiss about your appearance or attire that would insinuate you had any kind of sexual encounter, but also not trusting that moments ago you weren’t giving your body to some nobody and were just good at putting yourself back together.

As his focus traveled back to your eyes he noted how conflicted they looked. Your mind was probably running a mile a minute, scrambling to come up with a reason for why he would be in your apartment unannounced, especially at this hour.  

And that question reflected the strongest emotion you were currently feeling, fear. True unadulterated fear was staring right back at him as you mentally questioned why he was here, and what he planned on doing to you. Yet even with the terror, you stood your ground. He truly was pleased that you didn’t try and run the moment you realized your fate. With how timid and fidgety you could be you always managed to surprise him with the amount of backbone you exhibited. Much like all those years ago when you were the little girl with the gift, you didn’t give in to your palpable fright. Maybe things weren’t so different as they were back then, it’s just that now your gift to him was going to come in a different, much better, form.

When you neglected to verbally respond, Yujiro spoke again.

“How’s my (name) tonight? Or maybe at this point I should say morning.”

This seemed to break you out of your trance, your confusion and fear waning in favor of irritation, your haughty little attitude starting to peak through. How was this going to play out, he wondered? How much longer until he would have to do the fatherly thing and teach you a lesson in respect?

Whatever course the night took, it was sure to be fun. He went out of the way to come here so he would make it worth his while.

Being your daddy did have its perks, after all.

[rockingrobin69]

Cycle

“You.”

“Me.”

The huff is visible in the cold night air, glowing neon-bright against the club sign.

“Why am I not surprised to see you?”

“I don’t know. Why aren’t you surprised to see me?”

He thinks he’s so funny, doesn’t he. “Well, I suppose one’s childhood tendencies to follow their rival everywhere don’t really—”

“Oh, get over yourself. Pansy invited me.”

Eyebrows arch in surprise. “Pansy. Invited you. To their performance.”

“Yep, so, if you don’t mind, you’re sort of blocking the door…”

“Wait—” He follows him inside, barely even breathing, heart thumping to the electric beat and head fuzzy with smoke. “Bloody hell.”

*

“—You?”

“Me…” he leans his head on the sofa, eyes open wide. “Do you mean, if I could do anything in the world? Anything at all?”

“Yes. Anything.”

The flat smells like beer and sweat, like the party wasn’t over, but it’s just the two of them now, dreaming to the moonlight filtering through the blinds. “I don’t really know.” It hurts a little to admit, especially to these eyes, to that soft-soft smile he only recently discovered. But a hand reaches forward, softly stroking his hair.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to know anything right now.”

“But you do.”

“Well, I always have been one step ahead.” Bright laughter sends through his heart, luminous even in the dark. Was it always like this, and he’s somehow just… missed it?

“I like this. Whatever—this is. With you.”

The confession is just a whisper between them, until the hand slides to gently touch his face.

“Me too.”

A deep sigh. Where’s all his courage, now? Come on.

“Bloody hell,” he whispers, and dives forward.

*

“You—”

“Me!” an indignant gurgle follows the spill of wine. “You sure have some nerve, going on as if it were my fault!”

“Because nothing’s ever your fault, is it? Because I’m always the one who has to...”

The remains of what had been a lovely date decorate the floor, flowers trampled, surrounded by shards of crystal.

“This was a mistake. I never should have… what a stupid mistake.”

“Wait, you can’t just—”

The door slams.

“—Leave.”

The candlelight flickers.

“Bloody hell,” he murmurs to the empty room.

*

“You…”

“Me!” the laughter roars in his ears, and something clicks back into place in the turmoil that used to be his gut. “You should have seen your face. I can’t believe our friends pulled… god, what a mess, isn’t it?”

“I’d say.”

There’s hesitancy in the hand reaching from the fire, but none in him taking it, only relief. And some pleading, perhaps.

“Come over for dinner? I made pasta. Your favourite sauce.”

“Mm. Not just a comedian, are you.” He counts the seconds before his fate is sealed; three, two… “All right. One dinner. Why not.”

“Bloody hell,” he agrees with a smile.

*

“You.”

“Me?”

Their hands clasped together, teary eyes chasing teary eyes.

“Of course, you ninny. I thought it was obvious.”

“Do you really—”

The air smells of lavender in the sunlight and of spring and of ever-nearing hay-fever, and the sky’s the clearest blue. The hand in his is warm, a bit sweaty. He presses a kiss to its back.

“Yes. Really. You, you, you.”

He keeps saying it, chanting, praying it as a warm body crawls on top of his, and the view of the sky is replaced by the face he loves, a worthy sacrifice.

“For me, as well. You.”

“Bloody hell,” he grins, heart beating so fast he’s dizzy, head fuzzy with happiness, “what a surprise.”

[irrelevantwriter]

Problem With You

Pairing: Rio (Good Girls) x Female Reader/You

Rating: Explicit, NSFW

Warnings: Language, unprotected vaginal sex, mention of bodily fluids, banter as foreplay, mental warfare, Rio being jealous...and admitting it (toxicity at its finest)

Word Count: 3.3K

Summary: Part 2. You decide you aren't going to let Rio affect you. Good luck with that. 

A/N: You guys do not even understand how much I appreciate the love and support I’ve gotten for my Rio fic! Really, truly. Ya’ll know how to make a girl feel special and because of that, I wrote like a madwoman. Seriously. @likedovesinthewnd​ can attest to that fact lol. So here we have a part two for House Call. If you haven’t read that, I highly recommend you do. Only because I added some plot this time around. Ya girl is riding this Rio wave as far as it’ll take me, so strap in because a bitch is plottin’. I hope you guys like it. Feedback is that good shit. 💗

*Read Part 3 here

*Give and Take series masterlist

*Masterlist in bio.

***********************

You laughed to hide the expression of boredom you wore as you walked up the driveway to your house. Luke, your date, hovered behind you, an obvious look of hope in his green eyes.

It wasn’t happening.

“I had a really great time tonight.” He said with a sheepish smile, his boyish grin doing nothing for you.

“It was fun.” You lied, taking a step back to make your getaway.

Luke matched your movement as he started to lean in close, his intention clear. And unwanted.

“Hey, mama…”

The voice made you jump, forcing your date to move back and out of your space. You turned to your right to see Rio leaning against your parked car, legs crossed at the ankle and hands stuffed deep into the pockets of a black jacket. He was ominous looking. Mysterious, with that hint of danger that seemed to follow him everywhere. His dark eyes were trained solely on you, ignoring the other man just feet away.

“You know this guy?” Luke asked with an amateur bravado that made you want to cringe.

The men couldn’t have been more different. You knew of Luke from little league soccer. He was the father to one of the boy’s on your son’s team. He’d been divorced for a few years and had made his interest in you known once you and Paul had split. And after your rendezvous with Rio nearly two months ago, you were itching for something...anything that made you feel half as alive as you had that day.

It was not going well.

“Family friend.” You replied, gaze still captivated by the man in black.

Rio chuckled at your answer, but didn’t say anything to refute it.

“Are you-,” Luke started, addressing you with a concerned lilt to his voice.

“I’ll talk to you later. I’ve got some stuff to deal with.” You cut him off, leaving no room for argument.

Thankfully, he took the hint and nodded, pulling his car keys from his pocket. “I’ll call you.”

“Okay.” You said simply, desperately wanting him to leave you and Rio alone. The situation was beyond awkward for you. It was uncomfortable to have Rio present to view something so personal. And you could tell he was sizing Luke up, the smirk on his face saying exactly what he thought about your date for the evening.

Luke gave you and Rio one last wary glance before he was walking down your drive and to his parked car. You waited until he’d driven away before you faced Rio full on, eyebrow quirked up in annoyance.

“What’re you doing here?”

He didn’t answer you.

Instead, he straightened and began to walk in your direction, eyes appraising you and your dress. You stiffened your spine, unwilling to let him see you so flustered. That game was getting old. He would pounce on your nervousness, manipulate it to his advantage. You weren’t going to let that happen again.

In the weeks since you and Rio had slept together, he’d made his attraction for you obvious. The drop-offs were now moments for him to flirt, attempting to keep you in an anxiety-riddled state for his enjoyment. He liked to see you affected by his presence. You didn’t.

You’d regretted sleeping with him the moment it happened. You didn’t want to be involved in that aspect of his life when you were so entrenched in his business operations. It wasn’t a good look. And chances were, Rio wasn’t the type to take on a divorced mother of two from the suburbs. He led a very different life from yours. He was looking for someone to fill his needs in the moment. Nothing more, nothing less. But that’s not what you wanted. Least that’s what you told yourself.

At this point it was more about self preservation than anything else. And with Rio, your need to protect yourself was on high alert at all times. Be it your life or your dignity.

“Who was the guy?” He finally asked, his strides bringing him close enough for you to smell his cologne.

“Friend.”

“PTA or little league?” He taunted with a knowing smile.

You hated that you were that predictable. That he could read you so easily.

“Does it matter?” You snidely retorted, tightening your grasp around the black clutch gripped in your right hand.

“Nah, it doesn’t.” He replied smoothly, licking his lips...lips that you’d tasted...lips that you wanted to taste again. “We gotta talk.” He continued, face growing serious.

The shift in mood made dread knot your stomach. You swallowed thickly, eyes darting to the darkened houses and empty streets in your neighborhood.

“Inside.” You gestured behind you and turned away, leading him to your front door. You walked the steps up to your porch, not hearing him follow at first. You knew what the reason was. You’d worn a fairly modest black dress on your date with Luke. The garment hugged your figure with a high neck and long sleeves, the length stopping at your knees. The eye-catching feature of the dress was the back...or lack of. It was backless and it’d apparently gotten the attention of more than just your date tonight.

You struggled with your keys in the lock, feeling his gaze burn hot across your naked back. You shivered and sucked in a breath when you felt a delicate brush of a finger dance along your spine, his body heat now crowding you. His breath was warm against your neck, the suddenness of his actions making your head spin.

“S’cold out here. You’re shaking.” He rasped into your ear, finger still trailing in a sensual pattern against your flesh.

“It’s not the cold.” You said flatly, finally pushing open the door. You left him on the porch as you walked into the dimly lit house, setting your purse and keys on the bench in the foyer. You went straight to the kitchen, flicking on a light. The soft clicking of the door let you know he’d made his way inside after you.

You pulled two glass tumblers from the cabinet and then grabbed a bottle of whiskey that Paul had left behind. You poured the amber liquid into each glass, your mouth already preparing for the intense burn that would come with swallowing it down. You were in need of the liquid courage though.

“How’d you know my kids wouldn’t be here? You have my custody agreement memorized or something?” You asked as you sipped at the liquor, sliding the other glass towards Rio from across the kitchen island. The exact island he’d fucked you on weeks before.

You didn’t bother trying to hide your aggravation towards him. Ever since that day in your kitchen, he’d been difficult to ignore. He was a constant in your thoughts. Your dreams had only gotten more explicit, more intimate. It was irritating. You hadn’t felt right since. And it was all his fault.

“Something like that.” He said, eyeing the glass on the counter. He studied you for a long moment, as he was prone to do. He watched you gulp down the entirety of its contents, his mouth turned up in mirth.

“What’d you need to talk to me about?” You questioned, trying not to wince at the bitter taste that now sat on your tongue. The whiskey was already heating up your insides, coating them in a fine layer of confidence and nonchalance.

“How’d your date go?” He threw back, dodging your question as he finally picked up the glass and swirled its contents.

“Why?”

“I wanna know.”

He tossed the drink back in one go, his inked Adam’s apple bobbing with the motion. It was a surprisingly erotic sight.

“You really wanna know about my date?” You asked incredulously, eyebrow once again raised at him in question.

“I don’t ask questions I don’t wanna know the answer to, darling. You know that.” He retorted with a testiness that made you momentarily retreat.

“It was fine.” You supplied with a shrug of your shoulders, unsure of what he was looking for. The date had actually been a disaster, but you weren’t going to divulge that to him.

He laughed. A real laugh with his head thrown back and chest vibrating.

It pissed you off.

“What the hell is your problem?” You gritted out between clenched teeth, the alcohol now rushing through your veins and fueling your rising anger.

Rio went silent. He straightened to his full height and edged past the island to stand in front of you. His face gave away nothing. No smirk. No narrowed eyes. No false sense of security with a charming smile. Nothing.

“Who says I got a problem?” He finally said, leaning into your face and making you lock eyes with his own.

Your gut reaction told you to look away, but you fought against it. Instead choosing to meet his intensity head on.

“You seem awfully interested in my personal life. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were jealous.” You taunted, fully expecting another round of laughter from him.

You should’ve known by now that Rio never did anything you expected. That’s what made him Rio.

“And if I was?” He challenged, not backing down from your accusations. He shifted closer, forcing you to lean back. “If I said I’d kill him for touching what’s mine. What would you do? Hmm?” He continued, eyes roaming your body as he spoke. His voice grew thicker, the desire now suddenly apparent and washing over you like molasses.

“You wouldn’t.” You whispered, feeling the ghost of his hands along your hips. The barely there touch made your body come alive with familiarity, the memory settling right between your thighs.

“I don’t make threats I don’t plan on acting on, baby. You know that.” He teased, throwing his own words back at you.

“I’m not yours.” You shook your head, tightening your hands into fists to keep them at your sides.

He laughed, though the sound held no real humor. “Yeah, you are.” He said with a nod, hand reaching around to drag along your back, making your eyes fall shut.

His touch felt so good. Intoxicating. Like your body knew who it’d been waiting for this entire time. You’d been a fool to think you could replace the feeling.

“What do you want?” You asked, exhaustion lacing your words. You felt like you asked him that same question every moment you were together. You knew the answer this time though. You were just hoping you were wrong.

“You.” He whispered, finger now caressing your cheek and pushing waywards strands of hair off your face.

You’d been expecting the response, but it still jolted you. Still made you fraught with worry and unease. You lashed out, pushing his hand away and putting distance between your bodies.

“You want me to quit my job. Leave my kids. To do what with you? Run away to wash money and run drugs?”

“Yeah.”

You studied his face for several silent seconds, searching for any traces of humor. There were none. He was serious. Unflinchingly honest in his desire to have you.  

“Well, that’s not gonna happen. So you should probably go.”

You brushed off his words and moved past him and towards the entryway, ready to see him out. You didn’t get far. You made it to the other side of the island before a hand reached out for you and slammed you back against a firm chest. You gasped, unable to pull away as another hand attached to your other arm. They held you by your elbows, forcing your backside to press dangerously close to his front.

He’d moved quickly and without warning, nearly knocking you off your heels. You were both breathing heavy, both from the movement and the lust that threatened to spill over and bleed out all across your hardwood floors.

“You’re stubborn as shit.” Rio breathed into your ear, his grip tightening around your arms and forcing you to still.

“I’m smart.” You retorted, feeling yourself start to loosen in his hold. His chest was pressed tightly to your bare back, his crotch nestled almost perfectly against your ass. Your lower body shifted under the guise of pulling away, but you felt it. And so did he.

“Yeah, that too.” He whispered.

His face buried itself into your neck, lips covering the area with kisses. You arched into his touch, getting lost in the familiar sensations. His hands dropped from your arms and reached for the hem of your dress, pulling the fabric up your thighs.

It was happening again. The vortex that swallowed you up last time was back and it was making time simultaneously speed up and slow down. The outside world felt like it was at a stand still while you and Rio reintroduced your bodies to each other. The soft touches and gentle caresses morphed into hungry grasps and passionate clutches. His mouth worked over your neck and sucked, knowing exactly what that action did to you. You reached around and ran your nails over his scalp, feeling him shiver in response.

Your feet shuffled as he led you to your couch, pressing you into the back of it. You pushed your ass out and into him, feeling the length of him beyond your clothes. His hands tightened around your hips and then traveled under your dress. You gripped the cushions as he tore your panties away, the savagery of it making your thighs slide obnoxiously together. You moaned when his rough hands kneaded your ass, spreading the flesh to see what was waiting for him.

Through the fog your heard a distinct growl that reviberated from his chest and went straight to your throbbing sex, your walls desperately clenching around nothing. You bit your lip when you felt the head of him at your entrance, the heat from his flesh so overwhelming that your knees nearly buckled.

“Spread your legs, mama. Let me in.” He instructed, hand latching onto one of your shoulders for leverage.

You obeyed his command. You obeyed because that’s what you always did. You always ended up doing as he said. And that’s what scared you. Not the illegal shit or the risk of throwing your whole life away. It scared you with how complacent you could be to him. And you knew that eventually you’d give him the life he wanted from you.

A strangled moan fell from your lips as he began to push forward. He felt larger this way. Felt as if he could reach all the way into your chest if he wanted to. You pushed back for more when he teased you, sliding back out and refastening his hold on you.

In the next moment he was fully embedded inside of you, pulsing with such a need that you could do nothing but tighten around him. He appreciated the sentiment. You cried out in what sounded like agony, but was in fact an unbearable amount of pleasure that felt nearly spiritual.

His hips slammed into yours with wild abandon. You steadied yourself along the couch, feeling the piece of furniture slide across the floor with every thrust. In this position he had full access to you, and he utilized it. He roamed your body freely and without permission, making you beg for more. You couldn’t see him. And that was just fine because you could feel him. You could feel every hard line and groove. Every brush of his fingertips and bruising kiss. You could feel it all.

“Fuck...I-,” You gasped as you circled your clit, feeling him hit so deep that you were forced onto your tiptoes in your heels. “I’m gonna cum.”

Your confession earned harder, slower strokes. They made you see stars. And within seconds your entire body was spasming with waves of pleasure akin to electrical shocks. The force of it was almost painful. Sounds that you didn’t recognize flew past your lips as you trapped him inside of you and rode out the blissful high.

His hand moved from your shoulder to the back of your head, readying himself for his own release. You went limp after such a powerful climax and he took that as his cue to continue. His pace was forceful, low grunts permeating the air as he fucked into you. His fingers dug into your thighs in that way that made you feel owned. You clenched your inner muscles around him, coaxing him further into euphoria’s waiting arms.

“Shit,” He hissed, his hips beginning to stutter as he finally came.

You accepted every thick drop that now coated your walls. You couldn’t describe the feeling of fullness you felt with his cum settling into your womb and his twitching length still nestled tightly against your walls. But for as wrong as everything else felt with Rio, this...this felt right.

His low chuckle broke the silence as he retreated from your body slowly. You missed the sensation almost immediately.

You stood on shaky legs and pulled your dress down, seeing the shredded lace that had been your panties in a pile near your feet. You kicked off your heels, a relieved sigh leaving your lips at the action.

“I’m gonna be gone for a bit.” Rio announced suddenly, reaching up to lazily scratch at the facial hair that lined his jaw. He’d redressed, now looking like a poised professional and not someone who’d just cum inside you.

Mild panic seized your chest, but you schooled your features, attempting to play it cool.

“Gotta get back to your other life?” You retorted, choosing to be a smart ass rather than show any real concern for the man who’d just fucked you in another area in your home. Another space where your family gathered desecrated by your sins.

“Nah, this is it for me, darling.” He said with a shake of his head and lick of his lips. “Just gotta handle some things.”

“That’s not vague at all.”

He stepped to you, once again pressing you into the couch. Only this time you were facing him, breathing in the same whiskey-tinted air as he invaded your space.

“You know what your problem is?” He rasped, voice rough enough to send a tingle down your spine.

“You.” You jabbed. The liquor was working. Your lips were loosened and your attitude was running the show. You’d be lucky if Rio decided to ignore your childish behavior.

He angled your chin up to him, leaning in as if he was going to kiss you. He hadn’t yet that evening. And you found yourself yearning for it. His fingers slid over your lips and trailed down your neck, gently grasping your throat. He didn’t apply pressure, but the innuendo was there. It thrilled you in a way you hadn’t been expecting.

“You worry too much.” He said, eyeing your lips the entire time.

You licked them in response, having nothing to say for once. He wasn't wrong.

“Everything stays the same. Mick will be at the drop-offs. He’ll stay close if you need anything.” He explained, his hand floating down your collarbone and over your breast to settle on your waist.

“And you?” You dared to ask, hoping he wouldn’t see your question as anything more than a professional query.

“Like I said, I got some things to handle. I’ll be in touch.” He deflected. “And don’t miss me too much, yeah?” He said with a charming smile, choosing to grip your hip and squeeze.

You scoffed at his words, crossing your arms and watching him leave without another word. You tried not to let the new information he’d shared bother you. He didn’t say how long he’d be away, but you had a feeling it was going to be for more than a few days.

The notion made you uneasy.

While Rio’s presence unnerved you, his looming absence made a lump form in your throat. You didn’t have the energy to analyze what that meant. It was going to be back to business. And in a way you were grateful for the reset. He’d come back and things would go back to an employee-boss relationship. Back to normal.

Right?

[bratkook]

like you used to. jjk

“So kill me like you used to...”

part two.

pairing. ex boyfriend!jungkook x reader genre. angst, mentions of smut, toxic exes warnings. very toxic depictions of relationships, hints at infidelity, drunken mistakes, they’re both very toxic for each other and just can’t stay away, brief mentions of smut word count. 2.9k note. this is just a lump of angst that my mind conjured at 1am last night, i just love angst and messy relationships that are destined to fail 😌(its not edited so if u see a typo no u dont)

It always started with a phone call. 

Whether it was from you or him always changed. Sometimes he’d get the call at two in the morning, vision blurry as he brought the phone to his face and saw your name illuminated on the screen, that old goofy selfie you had together still set as your contact photo. He’d hesitate for a moment just to keep you on your toes before pressing accept, already getting up and putting pants on because he knew just what you were calling for. 

Tonight was your turn to be on the receiving end, laying in bed comfortably as you scrolled through random posts to try to help you sleep, the flash of his face fills your phone, it’s a random close up photo of his eyes staring right into the camera, crinkled up in a smile. Even though his name is changed in your contacts, no longer having the cute bunny emoji tacked to the end, you know you’ll still pick up in a heartbeat. And you do. 

The second you press accept you’re met with the familiar sound of his voice, slurred and thick as he speaks so jumbled up you would barely be able to understand him if you didn’t already know what he was saying. It was the same things he always said whenever he got like this, proclamations of love that only cut up your freshly scabbed over wounds, salt rubbing into them when he cries about how he misses you, promises to change. 

They get cut off when the phone is yanked away from his grasp, the second familiar voice belonging to his buddy Yugyeom now speaking into the receiver. “You gotta pick him up Y/N.”

The annoyance is evident in his voice, the babbling of Jungkook still heard in the background along with the dull beat of whatever place they were outside of. 

“He’s not my responsibility Yugyeom.”

He simply sighs into the phone, staring at his mess of a friend before rubbing his jaw, sore and aching from where he had just been socked after attempting to force him into an uber. “Yeah well he won’t let anyone else take him home, he’s drunk as fuck. I’ll send you the location.”

Not waiting for a response he hangs up and sends you a pin of where they’re at, thrusting the phone back into his friend’s hands before getting into that uber and leaving Jungkook alone while he whines against the dirty bar wall, crouching down onto the filthy sidewalk as the car drove off. 

Yugyeom knew you would come to his rescue like you always did, never once saying no and letting Jungkook fend for himself because on the rare occasions where you’d call him drunk and crying he’d do the same. 

Getting into the car still dressed in your pajamas, shoes thrown on without being laced up, hair still messy, it felt like routine now from how often it happened. Jungkook called you sober, text you while in a sane state of mind, but without fail at least once a month he’d get absolutely shit faced and call you, leaving you what he thought were heartfelt voicemails if by some chance you didn’t answer. 

It was the same bar every time, a bar you used to frequent with him, knowing the location and all the small side streets to get you there without needing directions. Doing this felt like such a normal part of your life it almost made you forget that you and Jungkook weren’t together anymore. It’s been a year since you split and you still find yourself thinking if things could be different. 

Would it have been best if you never confessed to each other, never admitted to the small inkling of a crush before it was able to fully blossom? It was hard not to wonder how different life would be now if you had walked away the first time things went south, if he had walked away after the first argument. 

Whenever he called you, pulled you in with those drunken promises it was easy to convince yourself that your relationship was perfect, that it was worth all of the struggles. Your brain morphed each fight, each time you cried alone, twisted it around and molded it to make it easier to consume, easier to believe you were meant to be. 

You thought you were soulmates, and maybe you were, two people destined to be together, meeting at the wrong time, under the wrong circumstances. What was meant to be perfect puzzle pieces connected had slowly turned into jagged edges that no longer clicked regardless of how hard you tried to jam them together, foolishly thinking you could spill your love into the gaps to mend the spaces, making the pieces whole once more. 

Love was never enough. 

Love made you stupid, made you blind and gullible, smiling through lies to avoid arguments, going to bed angry until he was hovering over you, coaxing you into forgiveness with soft kisses and gentle touches. It always went this way, regardless of who’s fault it was without fail he’d end up slot between your legs, the only time the puzzle pieces connected perfectly, allowing him to fuck you as if he’d never see you again. Murmurs of love and adoration were passed between panting breaths, sloppy kisses, shared moans to mask the empty promises you made every time.

Staying away from each other was a hard habit to kick, the two of you stuck on an endless game of seesaw, neither of you having the guts to get off and move on. All it took was a simple drunk phone call for you to go his way, the slur of his voice as he cries into the receiver about how much he loved you, missed you, needed you next to him, wanted to try again. It reeled you in so easily, winding you up until you were hauling your sloppy ex boyfriend off the dirty floor and into your small car. 

He remembers none of this, he never did, not fully anyways. Small tidbits of words he said flash in his mind as he comes to, drool on his cheek and neck sore from the unfortunate position he had slept in, groggy and unaware of his surroundings. 

He knew your apartment too well, recognized the green wall he had helped you paint, now holding endless pictures of you and your friends. None of Jungkook anymore. 

All of those photos were gone now, not burned or shredded in some ritual to get over him, simply tucked into a box and shoved so far into your closet you hoped you would forget it. You never did of course, the way the box laid dust free made it clear how often you pulled it out and sorted through the photos whenever you had too much wine, whenever you had off days where you just felt so alone and wished you could go back to the times you had convinced yourself were better. They weren’t, you knew they weren’t once you sobered up and balanced out your emotions.

Jungkook doesn’t feel bothered that not a trace of him remained visible in your home, he knew his presence lingered in the cracks, buried so deep in the crevices of your mind he knew you would always think of him. 

He groans softly as his eyes roam the interior of your home, the throbbing in his temples making him stop and shut his lids, not needing to analyze the place he was at less than two weeks ago when you had called him over. Jungkook briefly wonders if he should sneak his way out, not used to waking up on the couch instead of in your bed right beside you, maybe he had said something last night that crossed the line and landed him on the couch as a punishment. 

As you finally emerge from your room his plan of escape is put to a stop, his eyes gravitating towards your bedroom door, seeing the way you cautiously step out. Having heard Jungkook wake up since you had already been awake for the past hour, your body not allowing you to sleep while knowing he was in the other room, it took a few minutes of courage before you were able to face him. 

Spotting him on your couch shows how much he doesn’t belong, the pinned leather jacket he wore looking so harsh against the light coloring of your furniture, his dark disheveled hair contrasting with the tidy way you organized your apartment. He senses it, the skin crawling sensation that spreads the longer you stare at him, how he felt so out of place somewhere he used to call home at one point. 

“Thank you for picking me up.” He chooses to break the silence, voice raspy, his internal self screaming at him for always doing this. His eyes are sincere, genuinely meaning it, knowing just how messy he got when he had too much to drink, how his friends could never handle him when he crossed the line and began to call for you. 

Like always his words were routine so he expects it when you huff and say, “You need better friends Jungkook.”

“I know.” Because he did, he knew his friends enabled him, riled him up and once he became too much they pushed him onto you, knowing Jungkook’s grip on you was still too strong for you to ever say no. 

“What if I hadn’t picked you up? Would they have left you on the side of the bar to fend for yourself?”

“Probably,” he shrugs, from past experiences he knows very well they would have. His friends had dealt with Jungkook crying over you far too much, their patience fully stamped out, no longer able to tolerate him when he became like this. 

Not even realizing when he begins to smile as he thought of the nights you didn’t pick up, how he had ended up in the most random locations because he refused to go home to a place you weren’t, he snaps out of it when you scoff. “It’s not funny Jungkook, you could have gotten hurt or something.”

There it was, the reason you were upset. Not because he had called you and spewed the same bullshit he always did, no that you could tolerate. You were upset, and worried, that you’d get a following call from someone stating he had injured himself while calling for you. 

“I know.”

You pause to breathe, his short responses not irking you like it should, arms crossed over your chest as you observe your ex boyfriend still sitting on the couch, looking like a scolded child. 

“You can’t call me anymore Jungkook.” How you have the nerve to say that to him is funny, acting as if ten days ago you weren’t the one doing this to him, telling him you missed him, securing your anchor around his foot and dragging him back under with you. 

This is the checklist you needed to go down, a formality of the morning after so he doesn’t mind it. Instead he frowns at the way you continue to say his name, the way it rolls off your tongue makes him wince, missing the way you’d call him Kookie, playful pet names like Bunny, something he swore he hated but secretly loved. Jungkook wished he could hear you say it again, humor you with that damned bunny eared headband he’d wear to hear you laugh, squeal as he posed and dance for whatever silly video you recorded as you shouted out the ridiculous nickname. 

The last time he heard those words spill out of your mouth had been too long ago. 

“I’m sorry.” he admits, he knew he had to stop, couldn’t continue to hold onto the past, knowing how wrong you were for each other but he wasn’t the only one. Those were the same words you told him ten days ago, apologizing with guilty eyes for asking him to come over when you were lonely, needing a familiar body to occupy the space next to you, wanting his hands to soothe you, make you feel whole again just for a night. 

Once the sun came up it was back to normal, the two of you having the repeat conversation you had every time, the exact one you were having now. A formality. Nothing more, just mindless words that you would both agree to just to move along, to make you both feel better, more secure with yourself until the next time the phone rang. 

Your heart twists in your chest as you look at him, the same toxic love you had for him brewing in your heart, spilling over and burning you but you ignore the pain, convince yourself you don’t feel it as you breathe in. That same rope latches around Jungkook’s ankle as you avert your eyes for a brief second before looking back at him with a small sigh. “Do you want breakfast? I know how you get when you have a hangover.”

He smiles for the first time, charming as always, looking up at you through the subtle waves in his hair. “I probably shouldn’t.”

You know this. He definitely shouldn’t because breakfast will turn into words exchanged, civil at first, flirty the next, a coin flipped to decide if a petty argument would begin or if you’d reminisce about the good times. Regardless of the outcome, what always followed ended with you moaning out his name as he rocked into you, those same empty promises spilling through his lips that you swallowed with a kiss. 

A brief moment of bliss, a small dose of the past that only serves to hurt you further but you crave it, loving the small rush that came with arguing, the roughness of his hands as he pushed you around before sliding home, burying his face into your neck as he broke you down all over again. 

Normally you’d try to convince him further, but as your mouth opens to protest you get flashes of the night before, how you had carried Jungkook up your flight of stairs, hearing him ramble about nonsense so slurred together you paid it no mind. You would have had him sleep in your bed beside you like you always did but when you fish his phone out and begin to slide his jacket off it buzzes to life. 

Always being nosey you type in his password, smiling when you realize it was still your old anniversary but when you unlock it and see a flood of messages from a girl named Natalie, calling him babe, asking where he was, the smile falls from your face as you start to snoop. 

It doesn’t take much scrolling through their thread of messages to easily discover she was his girlfriend, blissfully unaware that he was shit faced and calling you, confessing to his love for you while she laid at home and wondered if he was having fun with his friends. She reminded you of yourself, of the way you used to be with him and it left a sour feeling on your tongue. 

“Yeah you probably shouldn’t.” 

He stands up now, following you slowly as you approach the door, heavy boots thumping on the hardwood as he reluctantly steps closer to the exit. He doesn’t want to leave, wants you to try to convince him to stay, not knowing that you knew the dirty secret he was hiding buried in his phone. 

You don’t decide to tell him you know, it was pointless. That was just how Jungkook was wired, so much love to give he had to spread it out, give everyone a fair share of it, choosing to pretend he wasn’t being selfish. It was naive to believe it, to think all the love he held was strictly for you, it was why he was able to pull the hood over your eyes so easily. 

Even when you pull the door open and give him a tightlipped smile he knows you’ll still call him, forget all about Natalie when you’re lonely once more. So when you look him in the eyes and sigh, “Goodbye Jungkook.” He knows it’s not for long, maybe a week or so, maybe less. 

He simply smiles, stuffing his hands into his jeans as he shuffles out, turning to face you as he steps backwards. “See you later Y/N.” And his words sting in a way he doesn’t mean, knowing just how right he was. 

Jungkook would never mind how heavy the anchor you hooked on his ankle was because he knew you would forever be a sucker for him. 

As you shut the door behind you it feels like a small weight starts to hang from your shoulders, the same tug starting from your chest, guiding you into your room until you’re pulling out the cursed box and sorting through those damned photos. With stinging eyes you flip through them for a moment, focusing on all the laughs captured on film, blurry vision moving to your phone beside you, hands already itching to call him again. 

It’s as if he knows, still inside your building, lingering in the lobby to give you a moment and it doesn’t take long. Once his phone starts to vibrate he smiles, staring at the photo of you as you call him like clockwork. With a clear of his throat he answers the phone, barely saying hello before he hears a small sniffle through the speaker. 

“I miss you Kookie.” 

Jungkook lets his eyes shut as he presses the elevator button, loving the feeling of being needed by you, already knowing to head back up because this was routine. 

“I know you do baby, I’ll be right up.”

And just like that you’re once again desperately trying to make those stupid puzzle pieces fit together, hoping that maybe this time love would be enough.

[omiscurls]

hi!! could i request a diluc x fem!reader angst where they were childhood friends, and when reader gets a fiancé, diluc tries to confess his feelings but reader rejects him, gets married and moves from mondstat, and every now and then diluc sends reader letters (apologizing, asking how readers day was, hoping they come back). thanks!

unrequited

plot: reader rejects the character

contains: diluc

warnings: angsty and like one curse word, that’s all

diluc was a cute kid.

as the heir to one of the most wealthy and powerful families in mondstadt, he was polite not only to his senior, but also incredibly nice to his friends, as well. different that most boys his age, he didn’t go around yelling dumb, inappropriate jokes, and didn’t take pride in making girls feel bad.

he was always sweet to those doing worse than him in class, be it theory or sparring, and acted like an absolute saint to his adopted brother.

naturally, how could one not adore a kid like that? how could the mondstadt girls not line up to see him each time, how could the boys not want to play with him? how could anyone resist, when he had that charm to him that seemed to draw people near almost against their free will?

finally, how could you not take pride in the fact that out of all those over-the-top girls who fought over each other to talk to him, out of all those boys that never failed to bug him in each little scrap of his free time, he chose to try and get close to you?

you didn’t understand it at first, but it seemed like he genuinely wanted to know you, his eyes looking as though they were studying your expression at all times, a warm smile welcoming you each time you passed him by.

his words were careful and his sentences always strained, as if he struggled to talk, but a sense of honesty and genuine sympathy always seeped through his words, confusing your little childish brain, but also forming a warm and fuzzy feeling inside your chest. 

over the years, not only did you finally answer to his advances, but also befriend the kid. his rare smiles were reserved for your eyes only, and his mind opened up before you each and every time you talked, no restrain and limitations between you two. 

he’d sit behind you in class, sometimes passing you notes with an answer to questions you didn’t know, or a funny note about the teacher, or just simply asking if you want to hang out after school. 

you’d go to windrise and sit under the tree, talking for hours about the most useless of things, about what you thought the clouds looked like, but also your futures, your dreams and hopes. 

he’d explain math to you before every exam in the dark rooms of dawn winery, hair pulled up and tea made for the both of you, looking at your struggling with unmistakable patience and affection, but what could you know? you were kids, barely even teenagers. why would you think anything of the way he said he’ll “always be there for you” after some simple math tutoring? how could you analyze his kind stare that you never saw him wear for other people? 

and so you didn’t. 

he’d sit with you on the counter of his kitchen, carefully caressing your back as you wet his shirt with tears, quietly telling you that “they didn’t deserve you anyway” after your first ever heartbreak. to hell with the fact that his own heart was breaking a millimetre more with every word he spoke, if what he said calmed you in any way, he’d talk all night, going on and on about how you deserve the world, and nothing less. 

you held his hand at his fathers memorial service, letting him tighten his grip on your fingers harder every time, you wiped away the tears, you listen to his sobs and pleas when the two of you were alone. you offered solace to him over the next painful months, you justified every word he hurt kaeya with, only to make him feel better about himself. 

to him, you were like an angel sent from above. you restored the faith he had lost in the world, you stuck by his side and lighted up his days one after the other, how could he not adore you?

how could he not fall in love? 

and trust when i say, he did really try to avoid it. he tried pushing his thoughts away, he tried focusing on something else, tried avoiding you, tried everything. no matter what he did, his mind circled back to your smile, and unconsciously he smiled as well, even if the next second he’d look in the mirror and wipe it off his face as if it was a crime to smile. 

diluc was a cute kid, and he grew up to be a polite gentleman, whom you called a friend. and as any polite gentleman, he wouldn’t dare do anything to loose the honor you had given him, so he stayed silent. stayed silent since his in-class notes, through talks about the future, through your breakups, through all the times you had been there for him. in no universe would he ever mention how the weight was lifted off his shoulders every time you as much as looked his way, how all the clouds went away at the sound of your laugh, and how he was ready to do anything in the world to keep you happy. 

somewhere in his mind, perhaps he thought you had somehow known all along, and would reward his efforts to not complicate your life with his emotions with loving him back, but how could you know? how, if he kept it a secret that well? 

in the end, his own plan backfired on him, and he realized he had lost when you ran through his door, tears in your eyes, but a smile on your face, showing off a ring, shining in sunlight, resting on your finger.

if he ever thought “they didn’t deserve you” hurt him, “i’m so happy for you!” stabbed his soul a thousand times more painfully. 

to normal people of mondstadt, there was no change in behavior from the gloomy and serious owner of angel’s share, but a few noticed how heavy his presence was, how desperately he blinked back the sheen layer of tears, glistening in the candle light while he was serving drinks, and you were off somewhere in the back, laughing with your lover by your side. 

he had lost his chance, and now there was no way in which he could get you back. no way at all. all his life, he had built up a hope inside that one of these days, he’ll get a happy ever after, and lived with that thought through all the bad moments that came along the way, and now these years of carefully building this scenario came crushing down with the realization. 

in a desperate search of any relief, he came to the conclusion that the only thing to be even remotely at peace with himself was to... simply just tell you. 

so there he was, right outside your door, the watch on his wrist striking ten in the evening, stars shining brightly on your doorstep, as you appeared before him, merely a nightgown shielding you from the cold air of the night, a soft smile adoring your lips from the moment you realized it was him. 

“diluc? what’re you doing here this late?” you said, grabbing a coat from behind the door and closing it behind you. a foolish hope sprung inside him when you joined him outside, as he stared at you with a little grin, working up the courage to speak up. 

“there’s something i wish to tell you about” he merely whispered, gesturing you to come with him.

the walk to windrise was longer than the ones you remembered from your childhood days, and the sharp air nibbled on your skin mercilessly, to the point your legs hurt a bit when you reached the tree.

diluc turned your way and spoke for the first time in what felt like forever, but was thirty minutes.

“i hoped not to burden you with the secret i’ll share with you now, and i’m sorry for whatever bad outcome it might cause, but… truth is, i can’t keep it to myself anymore, and if i want to have some peace for myself, i have to trouble you with it.” he said quietly, settling worry in your gut.

“you can tell me anything” you assured calmly “your secrets are always safe with me”

he took one last look into your caring eyes, feeling a little better just having you smile at him, and took a breath before spilling.

“i might’ve been in love with you for the last ten years” he said calmly “and i know this is hardly the time, i really do, but i just-“

“what?”

you looked at him in surprise, blood audibly pumping through your veins as you tried to comprehend what he just said.

“i do understand that you’re engaged, but-“

“do you? do you, really?” you said bitterly, making his heart sink in regret. “because to me it seems like i waited for you all those years, i hoped, and i prayed, and i wished, and after i finally, finally gave up, you decide to mess with my emotions right when i thought i had them figured out?”

diluc was stunned. so you felt the same way about him, once? he could’ve had all he hoped for? he didn’t even comprehend the rest of your sentence fully, focusing on how you just admitted to having feelings for him somewhen in the past.

“no, i’m not trying to mess with you, I’m-“

“but you are! honestly, diluc, i knew you were somewhat insensitive, but this is blatantly cruel! what- i don’t- why didn’t you say this to me earlier?”

“i wish i did, but to me it seemed like you were always chasing someone else, and i didn’t want to-“

“bother me? is that it? you didn’t want to bother me so now you decided to try and mess with my relationship? god, i- i need to be alone right now. sorry.”

and with that you were out of your usual childhood spot, leaving him alone under the tree that shared both of your secrets and plans for so long.

a longing stare pierced through your back as you ran back to mondstadt, not going home right away, but trying to find a spot where nobody would find you.

“fuck” he muttered. he was familiar with the feeling of loss, but the fact that it was nobody’s fault but his own made it a hundred times worse.

diluc was a cute child, and grew up to be a polite gentleman. so he was there to apologize to you on countless occasions, ready to beg forgiveness for his recklessness and lack of thought, but you were never there to hear his pleas.

and so it went on, a huge wedding covered the streets of mondstadt in white while he stood in the sidelines, his friends said goodbye to you as he watched from a safe distance. you left, and so did every remaining proof of his embarrassment.

nevertheless, he sent countless letters, no address on the envelope, save for the name of the city, hoping that one of them would eventually reach you. sorrow and tears almost spilled from the words written in a tidy cursive, but he never had any certainty about wether they reached you or not.

and while he hoped you forgave him,

he knew you didn’t.

[youryanderedaddy]

Love Fuel

Summary: You were Jason’s first love before you broke his heart and rejected him. It’s all your fault that he can’t move on.

Tw: female reader, obsessive behavior, incel behavior, nice guy behavior, self - hatred, threats of non-con, implied non - con, implied masturbation, bullying based on appearance (not reader), deregatory language, kidnapping, misogyny, generalizations, stalking

this is a hot mess but its 1 am and i am tired, ik that incels are bad irl (obviously), but this is fiction and I kinda wanted to explore the dynamic and shit. 

Everyone used to call him JJ or The-Big-Jay back in high school. Well, most of the time his classmates weren’t really calling out to him or even talking to him, the names were whispered behind his back, after he had just passed the hallway, or on bad days - right to his face. The jocks, these dumb motherfuckers, would beat him up, mock him for whatever stupid reasons they had chosen to use as an excuse to torment the smaller and weaker. The popular girls would giggle like brainless bimbos as Kyle or Brad or any other football player stole his glasses or continuously punched him in the guts until he threw up all over the floor. Even the nerds, the kids at the bottom of the school hierarchy, messed with Jason from time to time when they wanted to feel the oh - so desired rush of power they so rarely managed to experience. 

Looking back, Jason could see why his classmates hated him so much - he was everything that society deemed as wrong and unattractive. He was thin, pale, “scrawny” as the others called him, on the shorter side, and on top of that the teen was terribly shy and introverted, never having the guts to stand up to his bullies or even tell someone about the abuse. The male spent most of his free time at home, playing hours upon hours of video games, watching anime and reading books he was simply too young to understand or look critically at. As he grew older, the man began to view the world as it trully was - a dark, miserable place that ate up sore losers like him. Men were primitive and foolish, which somehow managed to soften their faults. Women, on the other hand, were  calculative and manipulative, greedy and sinful. His whole life they had done nothing but reject him when he needed love and support the most. Of course, there were many other reason why the brunette detested the weaker sex. In his eyes women were evil two - faced sluts, showing off their bodies yet acting innocent and hurt once someone finally decided to use them for the only thing they were actually good for.

But you Jason hated the most. You reminded him that no matter how much he hated the outside world, he would always hate himself the most. He had to admit you were pretty, painfully so, with a perfect little body to match your looks and a sweet sugary smile that almost deceived him years ago. As much as the man regretted his weakness, he had fallen right into your trap at the time.

You weren’t the most popular girl, but you had your fair share of friends, all nice and loyal like puppies. You weren’t the smartest either, but unlike the other stupid giggling sluts you always tried to do your best. You were beautiful just like them but you were actually kind to the pathetic bullied kid no one else bothered to acknowledge even existed outside of being a punching bag. You always asked him whether he was alright and often took him to the infirmary when he looked paler and sicker than usual. You talked to him as if he was a normal human being and despite the initial doubt, Jason appreciated it. 

It was the last day of your senior year when the teen finally gained the courage to confess. He was shaking the whole time and by the end of his little speech there were small tears in the corner of his eye. You were the first girl the male cared about, the first one to show him kindness, to offer him friendship without asking for something in return. You were the only one who could make him feel deserving of love, worthy of affection. And then you took it all away in a matter of seconds.

“I am sorry, bud.” You had said that day after giving him a  half - hearted hug and an apologetic smile, that started to seem more and more like a mocking grin the longer the teen started at you. “I already have a boyfriend, but I am really flattered. I am sure that you will find a lovely girl once you start college.” You had added quickly, cheerfully, rubbing the salt all over his wounds, honey dripping from your plump red lips. He had wanted to kiss them, bruise them, bite them until your stupid lying mouth was filled with blood. Obviously you didn’t have a boyfriend or he would have known by now, he stalked your social media religiously after all. Even if you had one, he probably treated you like shit. And how could you even suggest him finding another woman? As if he wanted any of the stupid money - grabbing sluts out there. As if some of them could replace you.

The boy was too furious to form a proper response besides “Fuck you, bitch”. His cheeks turned red and he didn’t realise that the bitter words had escaped his lips before he could stop them, then his legs took him far away from that shithole of a school. He didn’t manage to see your reaction before running away but it didn’t matter anymore. You were just like the others. 

***

That day Jason swore to show you just how small and insignificant you had made him feel. He wanted to see you crumble, cry and beg for forgiveness, desperate for his love but never good enough to get it. The man formed a plan to change himself and come back for you once he had erased each and every trace of his past. The brunette came to terms with his terrible social anxiety and decided that he needed to gain social abilities more than anything. That’s why, as much as he dreamt of working from home as a boring programmer with an even more boring, but flexible working schelude, the male chose to study something that involved a lot more human interactions. The next step was to hit the gym for the first time and get a monthly subscription. It wasn’t hard to see that females nowadays liked brain - dead athletes with defined jawline and cheekbones, toned chests and strong muscled bodies, so if he wanted to impress you, he had to look his best. It wasn’t easy at first - it felt like everyone in the fitness salon had their eyes on his weak frame, laughing and pointing their fingers at his imperfections, but things gradually got better as time went on. The trainings became easier to get through and from time to time they even helped the man forget about his loneliness and nihilism. 

Jason soon returned to his old habbit of spending hours looking through your accounts - Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, he knew all of your usernames, each post, every picture and text. He couldn’t believe how much of a desperate attention whore you had become over the years. The male remembered you in your long brown skirts, cozy sweatshirts and pure-white shirts, all the gray buttons closed to the very top, blushing, laughing, smiling like the adorable Goody-two-shoes you were. Now you were smirking seductively in every photo, overconfident and vibrant, flaunting your tits for every man to see and wearing tight little dresses that barelly covered your ass combined with heels so high and sharp they could be used as a weapon. You were such a stupid slut it was disgusting, and he couldn’t stop himself from jerking off every single time he saw your pretty little face on the screen. He wanted to cum down your throat so badly it was ridiculous, and even after knowing that you had probably already had hundreds of cocks shoved deep inside your pussy, the brunette still wished to see you split open on his, taking his lenght like a good little cocksleeve. 

***

The moment when he could see you again finally came. How many years had passed since graduation - five, ten, fifthteen? It hardly mattered. Jason was successful, at last. The male had his own business that was doing surprisingly well, there were some guys from the gym he could call friends and the best thing, he looked absolutely unrecognizable. There was nothing left of the tiny scrawny kid with quiet voice that everyone stepped over, he was now replaced by a strong capable man, determined to get what was rightfully his and his alone.

It wasn’t hard to find you since the brunette knew everything about you - where your job was, what time you finished, how long it took you to go home and what path you took. You lived alone and worked as a barista in a small local cafe even now that you had finished your studies in your dream faculty. Turns out the princess wasn’t so great and smart after all, having to resort to working a minimal - wage job day and night just to be able to pay her rent. Jason was absolutely delighted though, he loved your stupid dead - end job and your endless struggles to survive in the materialistic world honestly and fairly without selling yourself like a common whore. On one hand the male was happy that you had clung onto your last bit of innocence and on the other your pitiful lifestyle gave him the chance to snatch you away much easier. And that’s exactly what he did.

 ***

You woke up confused just like he had expected, bombarding him with questions, asking him who he was was, begging him to let you go, to at least explain what’s happening. You were so dumb, but God, you were still so pretty, if not prettier than before. You cried so beautifully when Jason told you you belonged to him now and you cried even more when he slammed his cold rough lips over yours in a deep wet kiss. You whimpered and whined while the male sucked on your lower lip and bit down, good, he wanted it to hurt. The stalker couldn’t wait to be inside you, he couldn’t hold back anymore. 

He climbed on top of you and pinned your wrists to the floor before tying them up with delicate red rope and tightening it. It wasn’t like the man was scared of you slipping away and hurting him, you were too weak and tiny to stand a chance against his years of power - lifting and muscle - training anyways, he just wanted you to be as uncomfortable and squirmish as possible. Your tormentor wished for you to be in worse pain than he had been during his youthful years, and he knew exactly what to do. Next thing you knew Jason had ripped your dress apart, leaving you vulnerable and exposed in just your plain old panties and bra. Cold shivers ran down your spine when the chilly air hit your naked flesh and you finally realized there wasn’t getting away from this. You had to stay there, limbs bound together, unable to move or fight back, the stranger’s hands caressing your neck before moving dangerously close to your clothed breasts. You felt so sick you were going to throw up for sure if your abductor didn’t step back so you decided to use your last resort.

“Jason, please stop!” You screamed out of the blue, forcing the brunette to freeze instantly at the use of his birth name. You had already called him a pervert and a psycho which didn’t seem to faze him, but the name clearly caught him off guard. This only seemed to prove your theory further - the man really was your former classmate, despite the only similarity between them being the dark distant look in his eyes. “I beg you, don’t hurt me!” You continued, hoping to at least buy yourself more time before the assault took place. 

He gulped loudly and stared at your quivering form. The impossible had happened, you had recognized him and now together with fear, there was also pity in your gaze, the one emotion your captor absolutely despised. You used to be the only one who pitied him, and even now that he was bigger, better and stronger than before, you still had the guts to pity him. It drove him insane but any attempt to hurt or touch you was fruitless now - your soft skin was suddenly burning his fingers like hellfire. 

“You must be thinking that I am a monster.” Jason started out dryly, chuckling bitterly, humorlessly even. He clenched his fists unconsciously and brought them to the floor in a fit of rage, missing your head by mere inches. Your heart was beating like crazy and you only hoped the mandman couldn’t hear it. “A freak.” The man spat out the word like it was a curse and for a split second his eyes softened before turning into two spinning torches. “Right?” You were sure that if looks could kill, his would have you dead by the end of the night so you quickly nodded your head no.

“You are lying to me again, pretty girl.” The brunette replied feisty, "pretty” rolling off his tongue like an insult. Then he broke into hoarse maniac laugher and lowered his head so his face leveled up with yours, so close you could feel his warm breath on your tear - stained cheek. “When I am done with you, you wouldn’t be so pretty anymore, darling.” Your captor growled and attacked your neck, sinking his teeth deep into the flesh. “You will see exaclty how ugly my love is.”

[sergeanthopeless]

female Byleth S-supports ranked best to worst

(keeping my personal feelings about the pairings themselves to a minimum)

(Gilbert and Alois omitted, since those are platonic S-supports)

(warning: long post)

1. Seteth 

This S-support is about as romantic as it can get. This thing just makes my heart flutter every. dang. time. and it’s easily the best S-support in the whole game for female Byleth. There’s a REASON why a lot of people hop aboard the Setleth train after witnessing this masterpiece.

Sure, Seteth lectures his way in and out of the proposal, but let’s be real, if it was any different it would be out of character, and acting the responsible advisor is just part of his charm. Plus, he pledges utter devotion to Byleth for the rest of his existence, and we essentially get wedding vows out of this one. It doesn’t get better than that!

He’s so self-assured during this S-support, and that’s sexy. But he is patient and affectionate with her, and takes the time to make sure there’s no room for confusion. He clarifies that his feelings are not those of duty (which is a problem with some other S-supports), or an interest in perpetuating a Nabatean or Crest-rich bloodline. It’s very clear that he just wants her, and that’s it. But where others put Byleth on a pedestal, this S-support feels like an exchange between equals.

Byleth’s reaction to this one is particularly noteworthy — there’s an unusual amount of emotional expression from Byleth during this S-support, INCLUDING A FRIGGIN BLUSH! Byleth does NOT blush often during these supports. Plus, Byleth asks Seteth to promise that he’ll follow wherever she goes. Unlike some of the other S-supports, it’s very clear that she’s invested in him and wants him.

Favorite quotes:

“I cannot conceive of a world without you in it.”

“I love you, deeply. Will you marry me?”

“From this day forward, I will always be at your side. Through good or ill fortune. Through the greatest of joys and the worst of woes. No matter how daunting the task, I will be there.”

“Courage, my love. Let us go forth and face the world - together.”

2. Hubert 

I was genuinely caught off-guard with Hubert, especially since I haven’t played Crimson Flower yet and have gotten all of my impressions of Hubert from the fandom. A pleasant surprise, though, and pleasant enough to snag the #2 best S-support!

He starts with advisor nagging, which is no surprise since that’s his character. However, he doesn’t take too long to get to the point of the conversation, and everything is straightforward yet sweet. It’s very cute how he flustered he gets in the beginning, and his self-consciousness about his suitability as a husband is really sweet. But what really clinched this for me was the privilege of seeing a BLUSHY HUBERT! This surprisingly lovable psychopath gets so dang worked up and excited over Byleth giving him a ring and proposing to him right back.

Favorite quotes:

“[I’d] rather you be with me rather than some dubious individual.” (Yes, I altered the quote, but let’s be real, he wasn’t talking about Edelgard there.)

“I once thought killing you would be a great challenge, but the real difficulty was declaring my love.”

3. Ignatz 

This S-support starts with an angry Ignatz, which had me worried. Ignatz is one of those characters where I expected his apparent youthfulness to cause a problem in his S-support (it definitely causes problems in other S-supports), even though he’s actually 17 at the start of game like Felix, Dimitri, Claude, Raphael, Ferdinand, and Edelgard. So I was pleasantly surprised by the sheer maturity of his proposal!

While he’s definitely self-conscious and doesn’t even expect Byleth to accept his proposal, it says a lot that Ignatz still had the guts to do the proposing. While he expresses surpassing admiration toward Byleth as someone who supported him through troubled times, he’s not dependent or subservient. Yes, there is a prominent fixation on Byleth’s beauty, but he’s an artist, so I think that adds more meaning to what would otherwise be an extremely shallow point to make during an S-support.

Favorite quotes:

“You are my goddess.”

 “You soothed my troubled soul.”

“My beloved goddess.”

“I want to love you for all eternity.”

“I love you with all my soul.”

Hoo boy, this boy’s got a serious SILVER TONGUE on him! *fans self*

4. Lorenz 

Regardless of how you feel about Lorenz, you’ve gotta admit this is a pretty flawless proposal. He reminisces about and apologizes for the trouble he used to cause as a youth, has a smooth transition into the presentation of the ring, and then his composure falls apart when Byleth reveals she’s been wise to him all along. He’s such a perfectionist, and his determination to propose perfectly is very consistent with his character. But I also appreciate that he made sure of Byleth’s feelings before actually asking her to marry him (ring presentation aside).

This S-support makes it very clear just how much Lorenz admires Byleth, which I feel is extremely important in context of his character. He can be incredibly self-centered to the point of being downright irritating, so the fact that he’s now talking about her and is focused entirely on her shows the sincerity of his feelings and how much Lorenz has grown as a person.

The bit at the end where he gets overexcited and uses his full name is hilarious, but I’m glad the S-support doesn’t end there, which would have taken away from it. Instead, it ends with Lorenz swearing to make Byleth happy and work with her in making the world a better place. Equal partners!

The last thing that really made this S-support for me was the voice acting. The broken voice, trembling, and stammering really added emotional depth to Lorenz’s character in this critical moment, and really brought everything to the next level in terms of overall impact.

Favorite quote: “Pedigree and status are no longer priorities for me. I now know that what matters most is the worth of an individual’s soul.”

5. Felix

The moment I noticed that this S-support was taking place at the training grounds, I knew it was going to be good. And it goes exactly as you would expect with our favorite tsundere, flustered and deflecting and all, but the sheer effort that he ends up putting into it is so endearing. And I adore how Byleth messes with him the whole time.

It starts rough, let’s be real. He just hands the ring to Byleth and tells her to “take this.” Oh, Felix. This poor boy is so. friggin. hopeless. You can practically hear his thought process leading up to this point. “How do I make sure Byleth never leaves?... Ah, marriage — yes, that’ll lock her in!” *facepalm*

But Felix’s body language is what really makes this S-support, starting with the finger point and then ending with the kabedon. Plus, we get a glimpse of something very rare: blushy Felix!

Favorite quotes:

“Fight me for the rest of my life.”

“I want you to be my wife. Please say yes. Let’s get married and stay together until we die. I love you.”

6. Balthus

I really didn’t know what to expect with this one, although to be honest, what expectations I did have were fairly low. Yet despite his faults, Balthus managed to scrape together a rather charming S-support! His nervousness and stuttering is adorable for such a big, tough-talking guy, and I love that we actually get an impatient “Just say it already,” from Byleth.

It was nice to see Byleth’s good influence on Balthus, although I’m not a fan of the woman-redeems-man trope. And considering that Balthus asks for up to 5 years to get his act together…that wasn’t exactly a point in his favor.

What made this S-support for me was all of the classic lines. Balthus isn’t necessarily a smooth talker, but it would be wrong to say that he doesn’t know how to talk to a woman. The proposal itself had me ROLLING: “Marry me, pal!” The voice acting was flawless, particularly when he said, “my love.” Balthus, I’ll say this on Byleth’s behalf: please stop trying so hard. And never say that again.

Favorite quotes:

“It’s time to take the biggest gamble of my life.”

“Comfort be damned! I need you by my side. Always.”

“Let’s get hitched right away! I know a guy.”

“To look after you...and be brave enough to let you look after me. that’s what marriage is all about, right?”

S-support portraits shouldn’t really matter here, but I’m going out on a limb here and saying that Balthus’ portrait is the best one of all Byleth’s S-supports.

7. Dorothea

I have a lot of Dorothea feels, okay? She’s my baby girl. And by this point in the game, she’s so jaded and used to disappointment that it just breaks my heart. So when Byleth proposes to her, you can hear the genuine emotion in her voice. She’s so in love with Byleth, but clearly talked herself out of it long before this moment. “You won the war. You could pick anyone in the world. Why would you…?”

And then she’s so happy. It’s not fancy, but her pure happiness really makes this for me. The hopeless romantic finally getting her happy ending is just really lovely.

Favorite quote: “I starred in so many operas where I captured the heart of my beloved. But I never dreamed that it would feel this wonderful when it actually happened.”

8. Ferdinand

Oh boy, Ferdie. There wasn’t much of a preamble, and the presentation of the ring wasn’t anything special. He’s still full of himself: “You hear noble Ferdinand von Aegir declare his love for you, and all you say is, ‘I understand’?” and this S-support is more focused on him than it is on Byleth, which is exactly the opposite of what happened with Lorenz’s S-support, even though they’re similar characters.

That being said, this S-support has its moments. We get a good reaction out of him (even though it’s over the top), and we get a sign of his personal growth when he reins himself in. The trembling and feeling faint is very cute (10/10), and considering his ambitious nature, him saying that he considers winning Byleth’s heart to be one of his greatest accomplishments is sweet, as is the way he dreams about their future.

In other words, this one starts rough, but ends sweet.

Favorite quote: “I need you as much as I need my next breath — more, even.”

9. Dedue

Can we just appreciate that Dedue chose to leave Dimitri for Byleth? That is so meaningful. Dedue spends the entire game unhealthily attached to Dimitri, and finally he finds something that he chooses for himself. Of course, there is the concern that he will become unhealthily attached to Byleth, but I don’t get that impression from his S-support.

There are so many wonderful little details in this S-support. The tiny, modest ring. The straightforward proposal. Both of them gazing at each other in loving, comfortable silence afterward. Byleth’s blush. And DEDUE’S LAUGH. Just. the laugh. It’s important.

Finally, Dedue invites Byleth to come with him to visit Duscur. TAKE NOTES, CLAUDE!! Anyway…

10. Edelgard

*takes a deep breath and sets aside my feelings about Edelgard’s stance on the Children of the Goddess*

Alright, so this S-support is significant because it’s one of the few where you can tell that there is genuine affection on Byleth’s end. She really takes charge of the proposal, going so far as to use Edelgard’s nickname, “El,” to convey affection and intimacy.

At first I was concerned when I heard Edelgard say, “This ring…thank you, my dearest friend,” and I was like HOLD UP – did Byleth just get friendzoned?? But Edelgard clarifies by expressing that she has romantic feelings too, which saves the scene. But while sweet, the rest of the S-support focuses on Edelgard’s ambitions and generally lacks romance. Fitting for her character? Yes. A satisfying S-support? Not really.

11. Dimitri 

It’s clear from the beginning of this S-support that Dimitri and Byleth have become close friends. I appreciate the way they talk about their wounds, and although talking about Dimitri’s nightmares is far darker than I expected from an S-support, it shows just how much Dimitri has improved.

What disappointed me about this S-support is the lack of emotion on both sides. Sure, the “my beloved” pet name is wonderful. And sure, Byleth isn’t very emotional as a rule. But Byleth shows more emotional in other S-supports. And there is not nearly enough of a reaction on Dimitri’s side. Come on, dude. You’ve been aggressively simping over Byleth since Day 1, and you’re just taking this proposal in stride?? You should be unconscious right now.

12. Mercedes

I’m so proud of how far Mercedes has come at this point. She’s determined to live in a way that makes her happy, outside of her Crest or anyone else’s expectations. That being said, a lot of this S-support feels more like it could have been an A+ support.

Major points to Mercedes to being the one to do the proposing. A lot of people mistake her kind nature for being demure, which is not the case. She is bold, speaks her mind, and knows what she wants. And in this case, that’s Byleth. Her proposal is gentle and respectful, if a bit bland, and her reaction to Byleth’s acceptance is absolutely adorable. She’s so happy yet insecure, and I wish there was more communication from Byleth to reassure her.

13. Hanneman

Hanneman is an academic through and through, and his nature as a scholar comes through strongly in his S-support. He tries to approach things pragmatically, almost ruins things by talking about Byleth’s role in his research, but fortunately realizes that’s the wrong way to do it and takes a new approach with more feeling. It’s very similar to Linhardt’s S-support, but less self-centered and overall better. Hanneman treats Byleth as an equal, and shows enthusiasm in his own way.

Overall, this is an extremely pragmatic S-support, but it’s not without its charms. That being said, it definitely requires an interpretation of Byleth’s character where she has developed a taste for academia.

Favorite quotes:

“I suppose there’s no reason to hold ourselves back any longer.”

“I don’t want the power of your Crest - I want you.”

“I can’t wait to see the results of this undertaking.”

14. Yuri

This S-support is very consistent with Yuri’s character. The scene opens with Yuri trying to repay his “debt” to Byleth, which definitely lacks in romantic vibes, but works in context. It’s nice to see Yuri nervous and out of composure, but I admit I had been expecting…more…from him with how charming he’s supposed to be. Then again, like Sylvain, maybe the fact that he’s dropped the façade is supposed to make it meaningful. At least he blushes! Blushy Yuri is something I didn’t know I needed. The bit at the end where he whispers his true name in her ear is very nice, too.

But yikes…Yuri talks about his death. And considering that in most of the routes, Byleth ends up being most likely essentially immortal, this hits HARD. She is definitely facing the death of her lover in a few decades at most, and that is not something she wants to think about during a proposal.

Favorite quote: “In return for this ring, I ask for you.”

15. Raphael 

Raphael is a pretty clueless, non-romantic kind of guy. But the sudden proposal is very cute. Considering how awful he is at expressing himself, it works really well with his character to simply have him jump right in and get it over with.

That being said, I couldn’t help but feel that his reasoning for getting married was just a little loose. He always wants to be with Byleth and expresses that he wants to serve as her knight. Uh, you realize you can do that without marrying her right, bud? Byleth didn’t seem to be very into this proposal either, although she does have a wonderful little smile in the S-support portrait, which makes up for that. I love how the portrait emphasizes Raph’s size and strength by having him lift her up bridal style. It’s an actually flattering portrayal of him, too.

Favorite quote: “And…I’ll love you. Forever and ever. And ever!”

16. Sylvain 

Ah yes, Sylvain. Our favorite train wreck. The good news is that he’s finally taking charge of his life, and I like that he’s straightforward in this S-support rather than flirtatious, which means that you know he’s being sincere. It’s cute to see him genuinely happy, and his statement that “I’m going to spend the rest of our lives together trying to make you happy,” is very good.

However, the “If you told me you never wanted me to look at another woman, I’d go blind for you” is going too far. I know it addresses his skirt-chasing character, but I just don’t know if they could have a healthy relationship. I know this is rating the support scene, not the ship itself, but I don’t think that’s a positive indicator for the future.

17. Claude 

This S-support gives me so many bad vibes. Yes, he expresses his love for Byleth as well as his utmost confidence in her, but dude, actions matter more than words, and your actions speak VOLUMES. He’s the only one to just run off at the end of the S-support, and while I understand his reasoning — I really do — it’s clear that his own agenda and ambitions will always come before Byleth.

This is what I heard: “Right now, Fodlan is like a newborn... so that’s why I’m leaving, so you have to do all the hard stuff yourself. See ya, sucker!!” Ah yes. Prime husband and father material there. Obviously.

“I’m sorry that I won’t be by your side at such an important event...” Uh huh, yeah right. You’re obviously itching to get out of there.

I’m sorry, Claude stans, but giving Byleth an engagement ring and then running away for who knows how long is LAME.

18. Jeritza

The first thing that struck me about this S-support is the fact that it takes place in the Agarthan HQ, Shambhala. This is super meaningful because it means that Byleth and Jeritza go there together to use their killing prowess to take out Those Who Slither in the Dark post-Crimson Flower. It’s a nice way to tie up the route. The portrait is super dynamic and unique, too. That being said…

He’s still fixated on killing Byleth. If that’s your thing, then hey, I can’t judge. At least we all know that if he hasn’t killed her by now, it’s never going to happen. It’s such an empty threat it’s probably an inside joke by now. But Jeritza’s clearly still figuring out his feelings, which means I’m not sure it really counts as an S-support (it would have made a better A+ support imho). There are also things about this pairing and S-support that have some serious implications for who Byleth has become by this point and what the future is likely to look like. Good storytelling, yes, but as an S-support…not my favorite.

Favorite quotes:

“It is you alone who can slay the demon inside me.”

“To the very depths of hell, I will tumble down with you.”

19. Linhardt

This S-support falls flat for me. It’s like Hanneman’s, but worse because it’s super self-centered. I feel like it’s a really bad summary of Linhardt’s character because so much more could have been done with it. Linhardt has lots of good traits, and this S-support ignores all of them. Instead, we have a one-dimensional S-support that focuses on Linhardt’s laziness and penchant for napping. He’s so self-centered and consumed by his own interests, so saying that he wants to study Byleth for the rest of his life makes her more like an accessory to his life plans rather than a central component. At least when Hanneman says he wants to study Byleth, he makes it very clear that he loves her and wants her as a person.

And the line where he says "I didn’t honestly think you’d reject me” is just…wow. Much disappoint. If I were Byleth I would turn him down on the spot just for saying that.

20. Ashe 

Ashe’s S-support comes off to me like he’s pledging himself to her as a vassal more than actually proposing. Yes, he does take initiative and does the proposing, which is consistent with the fact that Ashe is a gutsy little guy. But he’s so stuck on being helpful that the S-support ends up feeling immature. Plus, Byleth doesn’t seem very enthusiastic about the proposal compared to other S-supports, and overall Ashe’s worship of Byleth comes off as more dependent than romantic.

21. Caspar

We’ve reached the bottom four S-supports, starting with this disaster. Caspar is juvenile, reckless, and oblivious. (Don’t get me wrong — I adore his character and see him like a little brother.) Byleth has to take charge of the proposal, which is not a problem in itself, but then Caspar confesses that he hasn’t even thought about marrying Byleth — or anyone at all! asaslkjasdflk FAIL

At least the victory shout is kind of cute…if painfully cheesy.

And they get worse from here…

22. Rhea

I don’t have a lot to say here. I know I said that I would keep my personal feelings about the pairings themselves out of this, but I feel like there are certain things about this particular pairing that need to be addressed along with this S support.

Age gap aside (because frankly with immortals, age doesn’t really matter anymore), Rhea CREATED Byleth’s mother, essentially making herself Byleth’s grandmother. Incest vibes, yo. Plus, she fully intended to sacrifice Byleth’s life in order to bring back Sothis — which, granted, is a sentiment that wears off, and Jeritza is just as bad in terms of original intent to kill Byleth. This makes any kind of romantic revelation on Rhea’s side just…weird.

There are some good quotes in this S-support, and we get a ton of reveals about Rhea’s character development in a short amount of time. She’s self-conscious of her other form as a dragon, she acknowledges the wrongs she did in the past, and she expresses a desire to repent. She acknowledges the pivotal role that Byleth has played through her choices and accomplishments, rather than attributing them to fate and the “flow of time.” But honestly this would be more appropriate as a final scene at the end of the game, not a romantic S-support.

23. Cyril

Oh boy. Where do I start with this one? It’s so bad...

This boy is BABY. 19 years old after the war? Sure. Attractive design? Yes. But still, he. is. BABY. And the S-support portrait makes it so much worse by making him look freaking TEN.

And he’s so, so oblivious. Even worse than Caspar. He barely has a personality as a character outside of being committed to the servant mentality, and he has had no opportunity to discover himself as a freaking person outside of his obsession with Rhea. It should be illegal to even consider this kid for S-support. One thing would be if it was platonic, like Alois or Gilbert, but Byleth gives him the ring, and that means it’s supposed to be romantic.

Plus, Cyril says that he loves Byleth, but it’s super casual and comes off more like familial or friendship love rather than romantic love. Unless I missed something, I don’t think Byleth ever says that she loves Cyril in their S-support. And the end is just the worst: “Love ya, see ya in the morning.” That’s IT???? There is absolutely no indication of a mature relationship, and that’s just scary and gross.

I just…really hate this S-support. There’s only one S-support that’s worse…

24. Sothis

Forget everything that I said about keeping my feelings about particular pairings out of this ranking. This is a TRULY CURSED S-SUPPORT.

I don’t care that Sothis is technically a goddess whose age is beyond counting or mortal comprehension. All that matters is she looks like a child. She is lolibait. And to top it all off, she doesn’t even have physical form (thank goodness) — she’s just an apparition in Byleth’s head!

And this quote? “I love you deeply! Overwhelmingly! passionately! Ours is a love without an end!” I only have two words: PEAK CRINGE.

It would be one thing if Sothis came back in her adult form. Or better yet, if she had always been in her adult form as portrayed in the fresco in the reception hall. You can do something with that. But that’s not the case, Sothis is portrayed as a pre-pubescent child in both appearance and personality, and that’s just pedophilia vibes, y’all. I can’t believe this is a sincere S-support option.