#useless meeting for a useless project...

[charmre]

Guys...I am SO glad I ditched my meeting today. I asked what I missed from the 2 art directors who DID meet, and asked if they have a logo or something going yet in the group folder.

And the one art director goes, "Not yet, we brainstormed where we were getting stuck and figured out some solutions to move forward on"

...the project is due in like 2-3 weeks now????? And you guys don't even have sketches for a fucking LOGO yet??!?!

[nyhne]

.

[the1trueanon]

man, very few things make you feel more useless and unaccomplished than trying to apply for scholarships TnT

[kellystar321]

.

[mangled-by-disuse]

I have such mixed feelings about the love languages thing specifically, because, like, gary chapman fucking sucks and there's no scientific validity to his work BUT

at the same time, i do think there's some value in recognising and discussing the fact that different people need different expressions of love in different amounts? Especially in relationships.

Like, I have just recently been having a discussion with my partner about how he really doesn't tend to express his affection through gifts, whereas (as someone who is mega-bad at expressing sincere feeling) I do rely heavily on giving gifts and doing things for people as a less scary way to express love. Joe doesn't like giving gifts, because he's scared he'll do it wrong, and is only so-so on receiving them. He prefers to express love through physical contact and saying nice things. I hate having nice things said to me unless I am allowed to immediately rebut them with a joke or sarcastic comment that makes them less scarily close to emotional honesty. too many words of affirmation and i will genuinely just start avoiding you because it is painfully awkward to me.

and none of that means we are fundamentally different categories of people, which is where the 5 Love Languages stuff falls into being absolute bollocks. but I have seen, and done, enough throwing the baby out with the bathwater on that to be a little defensive - I think reasonable applications of the concept are actually really quite valuable. and for me, the taxonomy Chapman suggests (words of affirmation, quality time, gifts, acts of service, physical touch) while not at all exhaustive or thorough, is a useful framework to hang those conversations on. bc, like, no, the way people communicate and receive affection is not universal, and from personal experience, assuming that it is can have really significant problems for a relationship.

...you could argue that this is parallel to BMI in terms of "tools being used in totally not the way they should be used" though, tbf.

I can't keep having the same conversations about love languages, mbti, iq, bmi, "brain fully formed at 25" and shit over and over again...

[agreekdemigod]

Ah so I was burnt out

[yuujispinkhair]

NERD!SUKUNA HEADCANONS - Part 1

Modern!Sukuna x Reader (female). College AU. 2k words 18+, fluff + smut (Sukuna has some dirty fantasies about Reader. The actual smut will be in Part 2). "Enemies" to friends to fuckbuddies to lovers. Reader is shy and struggles with her grades. Sukuna is a genius but bad at feelings ;) Minors don't interact. Divider @/.lacedolliee. Credit for the super sexy fanart of Nerdkuna goes to my sweet friend @winterrbluess. The pic was used with Winn's permission 🖤 You asked if someone could write a little something about your fave sexy nerd, and I couldn't resist ;) I hope you'll enjoy it!

Nerd!Sukuna, who looks like a bad boy but is actually at the top of all his classes and a huge nerd when it comes to his studies and his various interests. Very intelligent, passionate, and hardworking. Sukuna always wants to be the best in everything he does.

Nerd!Sukuna, who could be one of the most popular guys on the whole campus if he wanted to, with his good looks and impressive height and fit body. But he keeps everyone at arm's length, not giving a fuck about popularity and not wanting to get distracted from his academic success.

Nerd!Sukuna, who once beat up a football player who tried to make fun of Sukuna's passion for all things history-related, and ever since that day, no one dared to bother Sukuna again.

Nerd!Sukuna, who is arrogant and condescending and thinks (rightfully so) that no one is fit to hold a candle to him. He is constantly looking down on everyone around him and would rather spend his free time perfecting his skills and studies than doing something useless.

Nerd!Sukuna, who hates group projects and prefers to work alone because everyone else is just holding him up, and Sukuna has to control all of their steps to fix their mistakes.

Nerd!Sukuna, who rolls his eyes in annoyance when he gets paired up with you for an assignment. A shy little thing whose name he never heard before, which means you are definitely not playing in the same academic league as him.

Nerd!Sukuna, who towers over you with his backpack slung casually over his broad shoulders and his tattooed face cold and hard when he informs you that he expects you to work hard and not fuck up his grades, or he will make your life hell.

Nerd!Sukuna, who is fully convinced this will be a disaster when he sees you wring your hands nervously and promise him you will work your ass off for this assignment because you really need a good grade so you can pass.

Nerd!Sukuna, who is a control freak who plans everything ahead and, therefore, doesn't let you have a word on how often you meet or when or where. He doesn't like having people over at his place, but he invites you over anyway because his kitchen table is his favorite place to study.

Nerd!Sukuna, who fixes you with a stern look through his nerdy glasses as he shoves a huge stack of books across the table, informing you he expects you to read all the needed information, which he already marked for you with various color-coded sticky notes. "Because you probably don't even know what we need for this assignment."

Nerd!Sukuna, who is surprised by how thoroughly you work and by the questions you ask him, which let him know you aren't as dumb as he thought.

Nerd!Sukuna, who likes how you hang on his lips when he explains stuff to you, clearly impressed by his detailed knowledge. And maybe, just maybe, he intentionally lowers his voice a bit more, just to see you get all nervous when he is talking in such a husky way, almost as if he isn't explaining political intrigues in the Heian era to you but rather telling you what he wants to do to you in his bed.

Nerd!Sukuna, who finds devilish joy in seeing how flustered you get around him and how clearly intimidated you are by his tall and broad body and his tattoos and arrogant attitude.

Nerd!Sukuna, who has to admit (only to himself) that getting paired up with you isn't too bad because at least you give your best, and you are actually kind of cute. The kind of sweet, shy girl who usually doesn't cross paths with him.

Nerd!Sukuna, who catches himself watching you during study time in his kitchen or in the library. He tells himself he is just checking if you really do your work, but his gaze mostly lingers on your glossy lips, which wrap around your pen while you focus on something or on your nose, which looks super cute when you scrunch it up in confusion.

Nerd!Sukuna, who isn't one to brag because he thinks that is something for losers, but he can't help but mention casually some of the academic awards he already won just because he is getting addicted to the buzzing in his veins when he sees the way you gulp hard and get all shy and cute on him, muttering something about how you struggle to even stay in college.

Nerd!Sukuna, who usually loves to be a little sadist and make fun of people who have bad grades, but somehow, he can't bring himself to do that when it comes to you.

Nerd!Sukuna, who instead surprises himself by reaching out and ruffling your hair, telling you that he will help you with your studies.

Nerd!Sukuna, who forms a strange little companionship with you, almost looking forward to your meetings and even preparing an extra plate of snacks for you.

Nerd!Sukuna, who usually isn't someone people would refer to as nice, but who drops his arrogant and mocking attitude at least a little when he is in his kitchen with you and instead jokes around with you and feels his heart throb weirdly when you get his humor, and laugh about his even most sarcastic remarks.

Nerd!Sukuna, who likes it when you come out of your shell more and more, joining in on his playful teasing or telling him about your favorite books and shows.

Nerd!Sukuna, who accidentally overhears you telling your classmate that you don't have time to go to the coffeeshop with her because you are already meeting your friend Sukuna after class, which leaves Sukuna standing in the middle of the hallway for a whole thirty seconds, with his mouth hanging open, completely stunned and looking like a brainless idiot as his mind tries to wrap around the fact that you see him as your friend when Sukuna never had a friend before.

Nerd!Sukuna, who makes sure to bake your favorite muffins and prepare your favorite type of tea before you come over that afternoon, wordlessly showing you that he values your companionship, or friendship, as you called it, too.

Nerd!Sukuna, who feels a small smile tug at his usually smirking lips when he sees your big happy smile and hears your sweet "For me? Oh, thank you!" when you see the plate with muffins on your place at his kitchen table. And yes, he refers to it as your place, and the thought makes him feel strangely warm.

Nerd!Sukuna, who playfully teases you for your Hello Kitty pens and glittery pink notebooks, asking if you are in some "Little Princess Kindergarten Club" or something. Only for you to march up to him the next morning before class to press a Hello Kitty text marker set against his chest so he can join the club, too, causing Sukuna to sit in class with a stupid grin on his face for a whole hour.

Nerd!Sukuna, who likes how easy things feel with you. How he can put all his hard work into your assignment and also see you working hard on it, but also have this light-hearted, playful banter with you, making him realize how boring and dry his afternoons used to be before you became his assignment partner.

Nerd!Sukuna, who has to admit that you definitely aren't as bad of an assignment partner as he thought you would be. He even allows you to fill out a whole page all by yourself, which is the biggest compliment he can give you.

Nerd!Sukuna, who catches himself playfully flirting with you, smirking smugly when he catches you staring at him when he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "See something you like, princess? Aww, no need to be embarrassed. I know those glasses look sexy on me."

Nerd!Sukuna, who loves to tease you like that and who ducks just in time when you scream in embarrassment and throw a pen at him while looking so fucking cute that Sukuna just teases you even more.

Nerd!Sukuna, who is quite happy with how your assignment is going. Usually, he would do the whole presentation by himself because he trusts no one else to deliver it the way he wants to, but Sukuna knows how shy you are about talking in front of the class, and Sukuna wants to teach you how to lose that fear.

Nerd!Sukuna, who just smirks at you when you complain loudly, "I can't do that! I am so bad at presenting things. I get all nervous and flustered, and then I mess up. Please do it yourself, Sukuna! You are so much better at this!"

Nerd!Sukuna, who tells you, "If you always run away from everything that scares you, you will never make it in life. So, nope. You will do your part. But aren't you such a lucky girl that you have me as your teacher?"

Nerd!Sukuna, who makes you stand in front of his fridge and practice your presentation over and over again while Sukuna sits on the kitchen chair, long muscular legs spread, tattooed arms crossed in front of his broad chest, occasionally pushing his glasses up as he watches you with an amused expression on his tattooed face, providing a brutal but honest opinion and actually helpful advice.

Nerd!Sukuna, who isn't just an overly critical and perfectionist asshole, but also someone who gives praise when he thinks it is deserved. And you, his cute little assignment partner, really deserve it. Sukuna walks over to you, stopping in front of you with a broad grin, "You did really well, princess. I'm proud of you."

Nerd!Sukuna, who wonders why your pupils look so blown out all of a sudden when you tilt your head to look up at him, stuttering in a slightly breathless voice, "Th... thank you. You were a really good teacher."

Nerd!Sukuna, who laughs and pets your hair as he smirks at you, saying something about how he could teach you lots of other things, too. Not sure anymore whether he is still just teasing you or if he really means it in a sexual way.

Nerd!Sukuna, who realizes he has a little big problem when he starts noticing the way your tits get pushed up and almost spill out of your shirt when you press a stack of books against them. Or when he loses his thread because you decided to wear a sexy little skirt, and now Sukuna can't stop thinking about how cute it would look if you were bouncing on his cock while still wearing that little skirt. Or when you suck on your stupid Hello Kitty pen, and Sukuna can't help but imagine how those sweet glossy lips of yours would feel wrapped around his cock instead.

Nerd!Sukuna, who tries to suppress those thoughts though, not wanting to mess this assignment up.

Nerd!Sukuna, who feels like encountering a world boss in a computer game, when you have a breakdown at his kitchen table, the evening before your presentation, crying and sobbing because you are nervous and convinced you will fuck up. And suddenly, Sukuna finds himself comforting you, gently caressing your arms with his large hands while murmuring reassurance to you. "Hey, stop being a brat. I know you can do it. You learned from the best, after all, didn't you, princess? And you got me. Just look at me the whole time, ok? Nothing bad can happen when you just look at me."

Nerd!Sukuna, who is surprised by how protective he feels over you at that moment. You are sitting in front of him looking like a wet cat, with your eyes all red and swollen from crying and snot running out of your nose, but somehow you still look so fucking cute to him, and somehow you make him so much softer and less rational than he usually is.

Nerd!Sukuna, who sighs and growls, "Oh, just come here." sounding annoyed but contradicting it by pulling you into his strong arms and holding you until you feel ok again. Sukuna still complains that you got his shirt wet with your tears, but his words lack the bite.

Nerd!Sukuna, who is genuinely proud of how much you improved when he watches your part of the presentation the next day. He even catches himself smiling a real smile at you when he congratulates you after class.

Nerd!Sukuna, who experiences a strange fluttery feeling in his stomach when you smile back at him and put your small hand on his tattooed biceps, "Thank you, Sukuna. It was really nice working with you."

Nerd!Sukuna, who manages a "same," but then just stands before you, opening his mouth and closing it again, not knowing what else to say because there are too many thoughts racing through his mind, and all of them seem to be too honest. And you do the same, shuffling around shyly, looking at him with wide eyes, parting your lips, but no words come out. And so both of you just lift a hand in an awkward farewell gesture and leave on opposite sides of the hallway.

Nerd!Sukuna, who tries to tell himself he is glad that your assignment is over and he can work in solitude again but then ends up staring longingly at the empty chair at his kitchen table, where you used to sit those last few weeks.

Aww Sukuna, do you miss us? ;)

I AM VERY ATTRACTED TO HIM AAAHHHH please, Kuna, tell me more about history and physics and every other subject that there is!!! You are so sexy!! 😘😘

Winn's fanart of Nerdkuna made me swoon so much and fall in love with him, and I always picture him as being at the top of classes anyway, so I think it was really time to finally write about him living his best nerdy life.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed the headcanons! I will post Part 2 in a few days 💗 Will Kuna find a way to get us back onto his kitchen chair?

Comments and reblogs would be very sweet!

Here is Part 2

[cocastyle]

I See You

Pairing — Bob Reynolds x reader

Word Count — 4k

Warning — SPOILER WARNING FOR THE THUNDERBOLTS* MOVIE I REPEAT SPOILER WARNING FOR THE THUNDERBOLTS* MOVIE!!

A/N — breaking my two years of not posting in honor of this amazing movie and character. the Thunderbolts* has reawakened my fire to write and I couldn’t ignore it. so here you go! this will be a bit of a short series. i kind of envision around three parts or so? anyways, i really hope you enjoy this and know this is your last warning before you continue on!! so if you haven’t seen the Thunderbolts* please save this for later <3

also, did you all notice the easter eggs i included ?? 👀

Part One Part Two Part Three

SPOILER WARNING FOR THE THUNDERBOLTS* MOVIE! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

Bob Reynolds wasn't quite sure how any of this had happened. One minute he was pretty sure he had been dying and the next he was trapped in a series of never ending nightmares. Except it wasn't just his nightmares, there were other people's too.

He knew he had been having these moments where he didn't remember things, knew that there was something going on at a deeper level than he wanted to admit. He thought with Valentina explaining this power he had been given that it would explain everything he had been feeling, that the darkness wasn't truly his but something brought on by this experiment.

But he knew the truth and walking through these endless nightmares only proved that. The darkness was his. It was a culmination of everything he was feeling, everything that had been consuming him, and it had only taken more of a physical form thanks to the Sentry project.

Bob had no way of fighting this thing, no way of taking back control of his body. And at this point he wasn't even sure if he wanted control. After all, he was just Bob. He was useless. He was nothing. Everyone would be better off without him.

So now he was trapped with no where else to go but to walk through the thousands of rooms of everyone's deepest regrets and shames.

It had been an accident at first, but sometime after his own meth chicken nightmare was when he first started stumbling into the other rooms. He saw so many things, felt the guilt and weight that everyone else felt. One in particular had stuck with him when he had ended up watching the loop of a blind lawyer watching his friend die over and over. Bob couldn't watch that for very long before he was hurriedly trying to get to any other room but that one, the blind man's cries still rattling his bones.

Bob didn't know how long he walked for or how many rooms he went through until he got to one that made him pause as he came face to face with Tony Stark. It had been a while since the hero's death, but still seeing the face of the man that had helped bring everyone back from the Blip made Bob falter slightly.

Someone's biggest trauma was Tony Stark?

Bob took a couple steps back, his eyes scanning over the room as he tried to ground himself in what was going on. He seemed to be in someone's apartment. The place would've been nice if it weren't for the fact that whoever was living here clearly hadn't been picking up after themselves in quite some time. And by the look Tony Stark was making as he glanced at the dirty dishes in the sink, it seemed he was thinking the same.

Bob knew the signs before he even saw her. It wasn't just the state of the apartment, but it was the feeling in the air. That feeling of despair, sadness, and nothingness. That feeling of knowing you were alone and there was nothing you could do about it. It clung to everything in the apartment and Bob's heart ached slightly at the sight. After all, he knew what this was like. He knew it too well.

"I can feel you judging me," a voice said, instantly pulling Bob's attention to the couch where a girl was sitting with a blanket wrapped around her and a bottle of vodka in hand. She wouldn't meet Tony Stark's eyes as she stared at the bottle, her fingers numbly fiddling with the label. "I didn't ask for you to come over and judge how I'm living. Hell, I didn't even ask you to come over, so you might as well go."

Tony let out a soft sigh, "Kid, you were ignoring my calls. Of course I was going to come check on you."

"Ever think I ignored them for a reason?"

Tony huffed and grabbed a chair from the kitchen table before dragging it over in front of the couch. He sat down in front of the girl, tilting his head slightly as he watched her before saying, "You can't keep living like this."

"You think I don't know that?" she asked, her voice bitter. “Why are you here, Tony?”

Tony just watched her in silence before saying, "Listen, Steve and Natasha came to see me yesterday and—"

The girl slammed the bottle down on the table so hard Bob thought it would break. Her eyes were red rimmed as she glared at the man and muttered, "No. We're not doing this. You're not going to sit there and try to rope me into some crazy plot to try and bring everyone back. It's been five years and I'm done, okay? I have nothing left in me anymore and I don't give a shit, so just leave."

"Kid—"

"I said leave!" she exclaimed, her eyes beginning to glow white with a power that Bob could almost feel beneath his own skin. "I'm not some sob story for you to try to fix, okay? I messed up and didn't kill Thanos in time and half of the universe had to pay for it. I'm done trying to help. All I ever do is hurt people."

She looked away, her voice rough when she whispered, "You're all better off without me anyways."

Bob sucked in a breath at that, understanding washing over him as he watched the broken girl do everything she could not to cry.

"Y/N," Tony began but the girl simply shook her head.

"No, Tony. I'm done. Just leave and go ahead and do yourself a favor and never come back. It's not worth your time or energy and I sure as hell don't want you here," she said, her head still turned.

Tony stilled slightly at her words. "You don't mean that," he told her, but before he could even blink, Y/N had used her telekinesis to pick up the bottle of vodka and send it hurtling in his direction. The man barely had time to duck out of the way before it flew right past where his head had been and shattered against the wall. Tony turned to her in surprise but the girl was already getting up and walking to the door of what had to be her bedroom.

"I miss him too you know," Tony called after her causing the girl to still.

"Stop," Y/N warned him, but Tony ignored her and instead stood up, his eyes not leaving her as he clearly made no move to leave.

"Y/N, he wouldn't want this for you. That kid loved you so much. He would be devastated by—"

"I said stop!" Y/N yelled and before anyone knew what was happening, a force was suddenly throwing Tony across the room. The man thought fast and his nano suit had wrapped around him before he could even hit the wall and Bob watched as the color drained from Y/N's face at what she had done.

She was shaking as she stared at Tony, but by the time he was looking back up at her, the Iron Man mask sliding away from his face, she was cold once again. "Get the hell out of my apartment," was all she said before turning and walking into her room, slamming the door behind her. Bob watched her go, frowning slightly as the scene began to play again.

"That was before they won against Thanos," a voice said causing Bob to flinch in surprise. He quickly turned around to find Y/N a little ways behind him, sitting down at a chair in the corner of the room. Her eyes continued to watch the scene playing out in front of her and Bob was almost beginning to question if she had spoke in the first place when she muttered, "That was the last time I saw him before he died."

Her eyes met his then and Bob stilled under her gaze. She was a couple of years older than the version of her from the memory, a little more put together but in the kind of way that screamed help more than her younger self's look had. She had learned to mask it more, that much was clear. Or maybe it was just that Bob knew where to look, that he saw himself when he looked at her and knew in more ways than one just how tired she was.

"Who was he talking about?" Bob asked, silently cursing himself for that being the first thing he said but knowing he now had to just go with it. "The guy?"

Y/N hesitated, her eyes glazing over as she got lost in thought. There was a tiny moment of utter sadness that flashed across her face but it was gone so quickly as she muttered, "I don't know." She let out a sad laugh. "Isn't that sad? It's like there's blanks in my memory. All I know is that there is this immense feeling of loss not just once, but twice. Every time I try to think of him it's like the image of him only gets fuzzier."

Bob was silent for a moment. "I have trouble remembering things too," he admitted. "There are these moments where it's like I'll wake up from a dream I don't remember having and that time is just gone."

Y/N's eyes flickered his way, her gaze shifting over him in a way that made him stand up a little straighter. "I walked through a lot of rooms before ending up here," she told him, her eyes still studying him as though she were trying to piece him together. "This was the only one I couldn't leave."

"Why?" Bob questioned.

"Why did you stop in this one?" she retorted and Bob blinked in surprise. Her head tilted slightly as she stared blankly at the boy. It was a moment before she looked away and back at Tony who was watching her past self slam the door shut behind her as the memory started back up again. "I just wanted to see him again, I guess," she whispered. "I always hated this moment, hated that I pushed him away like that and left him to fight Thanos without me. Sometimes I wonder..."

She trailed off before shrugging slightly and looking back at Bob. "Guess I was as shocked by seeing Tony's face as you were when you walked in," Y/N said. Bob barely even thought his question before she placed a finger against her temple and let out a small sigh of exhaustion. "Telekinesis," she stated. "Just a fraction of the power I was born with, but it comes in handy from time to time. I knew who you were the second you walked into this memory. Your mind is very loud, but not in the way you'd expect it to be."

Bob wanted to ask her more, but it was clear she didn't want to expand on that comment. Instead she merely tapped her fingers against the arm of the chair she sat in and said, "So you're the one doing this."

It wasn't a question. She said it as though it were fact. Not that she was wrong, but something about the way she said it still made Bob's throat constrict.

"It's not. . .it's not me. It's—" Bob broke off and he could see the way she stared at him, knew that she was reading his mind. She blinked and quickly looked away. "Sorry," she whispered. "I can't help it sometimes. You lock yourself away long enough and you'll find it harder to control what once was so easy. But I get a sense that you know that."

Bob let out a small sigh, his eyes flickering over the past Y/N who sat on the couch with a haunted look in her eyes and a tight grip on the bottle in her hand.

"We've all done some bad things," Y/N told him, answering the questions flying through his mind. "I had the unfortunate experience of being the reason half the universe died. I was there that day that Thanos went to Wakanda to take the Mind Stone from Vision. I was the last one there before he snapped. I could've stopped it, but I let his words get to me and . . . well, you know the rest."

“The Blip,” Bob muttered and Y/N nodded solemnly. He could see her trying to keep it all together, but the tension was practically radiating off of her as she avoided his gaze.

“Go ahead and say it,” Y/N told him, her gaze locked on her past self who was busy hurling the bottle at Tony’s head. “You probably lost someone in the Blip, right? Had to suffer five years without them? Who was it? Family? Friends?”

Y/N didn’t even give him time to respond as she let out a sigh as if everything were pointless, “It doesn’t matter. Everyone still thinks the same thing, but I don’t blame them.”

“It’s my fault,” she admitted. “I caused everyone so much pain and suffering and then, when I had the chance to make things right, I pushed everyone away and locked myself in my room. Then Natasha died. Then Tony. And eventually Steve followed. And where was I? Drowning my sorrows in a bottle like the asshole that I am.” Y/N scoffed slightly at herself, the fury in her eyes something most people would probably flinch at but all Bob could do was soften at the sight. “So go ahead and say what you want. Call me names. Shout at me. Tell me how much of a monster I am. I deserve it. I’ll always deserve it.”

Bob didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what he could say. Not because it was all too much to process, but because he understood it. He understood what she was feeling. The pain and the anger. The guilt and regret. The shame. He understood it in ways he couldn’t even begin to comprehend.

But the silence was loud and Y/N wouldn’t meet his eyes. She just stared at the scene in front of her as her past self’s voice filled the silence between them, her voice rough as she whispered, "You're all better off without me anyways."

Y/N flinched at those words, her face crumbling slightly as she leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Bob felt his heart ache at the sight and for a moment, he saw himself sitting there in that chair. But more importantly, he saw her. He saw Y/N for who she truly was. He didn’t know what to say to her to make her better, so instead he just thought it.

I see you.

Y/N's eyes snapped up to him and Bob knew he hadn't had to say that out loud. She had heard him loud and clear.

She stood without another word, her eyes never leaving his as she walked towards him. She was quiet as she stopped in front of him, her gaze turning questioning as she studied him.

You do see me, don't you?

Bob let out a small gasp as her voice echoed in his head. He stared at her with wide eyes, but didn't flinch away not even when she took a step closer so that they were only a breath apart.

I can feel it, you know? That darkness. It calls to me.

"You know where he is?" Bob asked and Y/N quickly shook her head.

"I'm not talking about the Void," she whispered. She gently lifted her hand and placed it on his chest, right above his heart. "Here."

Bob's breath stuttered and he tried to keep his heart from racing as he whispered, "W-what does it say?"

"That it understands," Y/N replied. "That it sees what’s inside my own heart.” She hesitated before giving him a sad smile. “Like calls to like after all."

Bob stared at her, his eyes flickering over her face. He had thought she was pretty before, but up close she was even more beautiful than he could’ve imagined. Her eyebrow quirked slightly as if she had heard that thought and maybe she had, but Y/N was already moving on which he was silently thankful about.

“You feel it too,” she said and Bob didn’t need to say it out loud to confirm her thoughts. After all, he knew what she was talking about and she was right. Ever since he had emerged into this room, he had felt a sort of tug. It was the reason he had stayed. He thought it was because of seeing Tony Stark, but it was because he had felt her from the moment he had stepped foot into that room.

It was because he had seen her before ever laying eyes on her and it seemed she had done the same.

“I don’t know what to do,” Bob admitted, his words strained. “Every time I think I’m getting better, that I’ve finally pulled myself out of that darkness, I just. . .”

“Get pulled back under again?”

Bob was quiet for a moment, his gaze dropping to the floor as that same feeling of shame that always crept up when he thought about his problems beginning to rise in the form of a blush on his neck, “Yeah.”

There was a gentle touch against his chin before Y/N lifted his head so that his gaze met hers once more. Her touched lingered for just a moment, but then her hand was dropping back down to her side. Not once did she move the one that was still resting on his chest and above his heart, the only source of comfort either of them seemed to need.

She gave him a sad smile, her eyes getting a sort of far off look as she whispered, “Sometimes the hardest battle you’ll ever face is with yourself.”

Bob felt tears prick his eyes at those words and for a moment, he even felt a sense of comfort. Someone knew what he was going through. Someone understood.

He had never had that before.

“How do we beat it?” Bob’s voice was barely above a whisper.

Y/N seemed to come back to herself at those words, her eyes locking with his once more and her hand tightened on his shirt. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “But I’d like to figure that out. Together.”

Bob swore he stopped breathing at those words.

“Together,” he repeated, tears filling his eyes slightly out of disbelief.

Y/N merely nodded and she gently reached up, her thumb quickly swiping under his eye to brush away a stray tear that had fallen. Her own eyes were lined with tears as she whispered through a soft laugh, “Yeah, together. As long as you’re okay with being friends with the girl who does nothing but screw everything up.”

Bob couldn’t stop the small grin that began to peak out, the corners of his lips twitching up slightly as he opened his mouth to respond.

It was then that the doors to the room flew open, darkness flooding in and covering the walls and floors with black tendrils as it raced towards the two. The two stumbled back and away from each other as they tried to avoid the darkness creeping in and Y/N let out a small shout when her past self and Tony dissolved into nothing but shadows.

“Bob,” Y/N called out, but the boy was already reaching for her. He had ahold of her arm within a second and he pulled her to the one corner of the room not covered in darkness just yet.

His eyes were wide as he scanned what was left of the room, his grip tightening on Y/N’s arm in slight panic and confusion as he tried to process what was happening.

The darkness had never come after Bob before.

Not like this.

Something had signaled the Void. Something had scared him.

Bob’s eyes flickered to Y/N who was leaning into his touch, the tips of her fingers already beginning to glow white as she clearly analyzed the situation. His fingers felt warm against her forearm and for a moment he let himself remember the feel of her hand on his chest, the way her breath had fanned his face, and the way her words had wrapped around his heart like a hug he hadn't know he had needed.

And he knew.

The Void fed off of his sadness and loneliness and whatever Y/N had been making him feel was the opposite. The Void would do whatever he needed to crush this feeling, to stay in control. Even if it meant there were casualties along the way.

Bob’s heart ached at that thought and he quickly turned to Y/N who was backing closer to him as they were pushed further into the corner of the room and her memory. She moved her arm out of his grasp in order to hold her hands up, a white light emitting out against the darkness as she tried to hold it at bay.

"Bob, what's going on?" she asked. "What do we do?"

"I—" Bob was panicking now, the thought of Y/N getting hurt making him feel so many emotions that he hadn't felt in a long time. It scared him how much he felt towards the girl within just one conversation. He already knew he would do whatever needed to be done to save her and that thought alone scared him in more ways than one. Even more than the plan that was beginning to develop in his head, the plan that would save Y/N but would mean leaving her at the same time.

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, Y/N's head whipped in his direction. "Bob, no. You can't run. You have to fight this thing. If you don't, the darkness will only continue to consume you," she said.

"Cause you know what that's like?" Bob retorted, his panic and fear making him sound bitter. "We just watched the same memory over and over of you letting the darkness take over. If you can't fight it, what makes you think I can?"

Y/N's eyes softened slightly. "Bob," she started, but the darkness pushed closer towards them and she let out a strangled sound as she strained to keep her powers in check.

Bob watched her for a second, his eyes flickering over her one last time before he leaned forward. His lips brushed gently against her ear and he felt her shiver slightly under his touch. His breath came out shaky as he whispered, "I would've liked to be your friend."

Then, before she could do or say anything else, Bob had pulled back and thrown himself against the wall of the memory. His body broke through the barrier and into the next room, the darkness leaving Y/N behind in favor of chasing the boy.

"Bob!" Y/N cried out as she attempted to lunge after him, but the darkness threw her back and by the time she was up on her feet again, the memory had sealed itself around her, forcing her to relive the same moment with Tony while Bob got away.

- - -

Bob didn’t know how long he ran for. All he knew was that it took forever for him to get back to his own rooms. He almost cried when the meth chicken scene appeared before him, but he didn’t stop there. He continued his trek even after the darkness eventually faded away, now satisfied that Bob was back where he belonged.

Everything was just too loud, the memories too much for Bob to withstand while that feeling of utter loneliness crept up on him once more. It was foolish of him to think he could ever have someone understand him, that he could ever have someone in his life without hurting them in the end. He had done this to himself.

He deserved to be alone.

At some point Bob eventually managed to find the attic of one of his memories, the only quiet place in this miserable void, and he was quick to tuck himself away in there, away from all the noise and the darkness that he could feel feeding off of everyone's chaos.

It was only then that he sat down and curled in on himself, his breathing shaky as he tried to push every last thought of Y/N out of his head.

"She's better off without me," Bob whispered to himself like a mantra, his head tucked close to his knees as he let the stillness envelope him in a hug much different than the one Y/N’s words had given him. “She’s better off without me.”

“Everyone is.”

[nope-body]

.

[laceandlipstick]

hunt me down | d.w

dean winchester x f!reader

MDNI

masterlist

word count: 5.8k

summary: one bed, one reckless night, and nothing between you and dean would ever be the same again.

warnings: one bed trope, rough p in v, oral f!receiving, dirty talk (dean’s silly like that), slight restraint (if you squint), let me know if i missed any!

a/n: this was a passion project for my bsf @sudsnribbons hope u enjoy my love

The first time you met Dean Winchester, he nearly shot you.

In fairness, you had just tackled him to the ground inside a crumbling barn, both of you hunting the same vampire without realizing it. Your heart hammered as you lay sprawled across his chest, pinned down by his broad hands, the glint of a silver blade flashing dangerously close to your throat.

Then he smiled — all crooked grin and cocky confidence — and the heat that surged through you had nothing to do with adrenaline.

“You’re lucky you’re cute, sweetheart,” he rasped, his voice a low roll of thunder. “Otherwise you’d be leaking all over this floor.”

You shoved off him with a muttered curse, cheeks burning hotter than the midday sun.

Dean just laughed, brushing dust from his jacket, the rich rumble vibrating straight down your spine.

You should have left it at that. You should have walked away and never thought twice about him.

But of course, that wasn’t how your story with Dean Winchester was going to go.

⸻

Two weeks later, you’re riding shotgun in his ’67 Impala, salt-and-burn job behind you, night bleeding dark and heavy across the open highway.

The radio hums something low and bluesy, and Dean’s fingers tap absently against the wheel. Every now and then, his green eyes flick toward you — quick, assessing glances that make your skin prickle with awareness.

You stare out the window, pretending not to notice. Pretending the air between you isn’t electric.

It’s a losing battle.

“So,” he says finally, voice lazy but laced with something sharper. “You ever gonna stop playing shy and tell me what your deal is?”

“My deal?” you echo, keeping your tone light.

Dean smirks. “Yeah. You’re a hell of a hunter. Quick, smart… sexy as hell. Yet somehow, you’re still flying solo. Why’s that?”

You snort, shifting in your seat. “Maybe I like my own company.”

Dean’s gaze drags over you, slow and deliberate. “Honey, if I were your company, you’d never be lonely again.”

The words settle in your gut like a lit match dropped in gasoline.

You swallow hard, willing your pulse to steady, but it’s useless. Dean Winchester is an inferno in denim and leather, and you’re standing way too close to the flames.

“Careful, Winchester,” you murmur, finally daring to meet his eyes. “You might not be able to handle me.”

Dean grins, slow and devastating. “Oh, sweetheart,” he drawls. “I can handle you just fine. Question is… can you handle me?”

You tear your gaze away before you do something stupid — like pull the car over and find out exactly what he means.

Instead, you settle deeper into the seat, pretending to relax, pretending you don’t feel his eyes burning into you like a brand.

The silence that follows is filled with unspoken promises.

⸻

The next motel you hit is a run-down little place off the main highway. Neon lights flicker overhead, buzzing like hornets in the humid night air. Dean cuts the engine, and for a second, neither of you move.

Finally, he tosses you a smirk. “One room left,” he says. “Manager said it’s got two beds. Hope you don’t snore.”

You arch a brow. “Hope you don’t talk in your sleep.”

Dean chuckles, low and rough. “Oh, sweetheart. You’ll be wishin’ I was asleep.”

The words hang there between you, daring, suggestive. You push open the door before you can embarrass yourself by blushing again.

Inside, the room smells faintly of stale smoke and cheap cleaner. One bed is pushed up against the wall, the other closer to the window. You drop your bag on the nearest mattress, trying to act casual, but Dean is too close behind you, his presence a solid, burning thing at your back.

You hear the soft rustle of his jacket hitting the chair, the creak of the bedframe as he sits down.

“You gonna hog all the hot water, too?” he asks, voice all lazy amusement.

You shrug out of your jacket, feeling his gaze scrape over your shoulders, down your back. Every nerve ending lights up like a live wire.

“Guess you’ll have to be fast,” you toss over your shoulder, heading for the bathroom.

Dean’s chuckle follows you like a touch.

And when you close the door, you lean against it for a second, breathing hard, feeling heat flood your cheeks.

This was going to be torture. Sweet, unbearable torture.

You shower quickly, but not quick enough to escape the images playing in your mind — Dean, sprawled out on that bed, long legs stretched, green eyes half-lidded with heat. Dean, close enough to touch. Close enough to taste.

You curse under your breath, toweling off fast.

When you step out in your sleep shorts and a loose T-shirt, Dean is stretched across the bed nearest the window, boots kicked off, TV remote in hand. His shirt is rumpled, his belt undone but still looped through his jeans. The sight of that loose belt — the suggestion of it — sends a molten rush straight through you.

Dean glances up, and for a moment, he says nothing. His gaze skims over your bare legs, the curve of your hips, the shadow of your collarbone beneath your T-shirt.

You shift your weight, suddenly hyperaware of every inch of bare skin.

“You clean up nice,” he murmurs, voice rougher than before.

You clear your throat. “Don’t get any ideas.”

Dean smirks, slow and sinful. “Sweetheart, the ideas I have… you couldn’t handle ’em.”

Your stomach flips. You yank back the covers on your bed, climbing in quickly, tugging the blanket up to your chest like armor.

Dean chuckles again, turning his attention back to the TV. But you can feel him still watching you, feel the weight of his gaze like hands trailing over your body.

You pretend to sleep. You pretend not to notice the way Dean shifts, getting more comfortable, the way the low rumble of his breathing fills the room.

You pretend you don’t imagine crawling across the short space between the beds and letting all that cocky bravado melt away under your touch.

Sleep is impossible.

⸻

You don’t know how long you lay there, staring at the stained ceiling, listening to Dean breathe.

At some point, the TV clicks off.

Dean shifts, the bedsprings groaning under his weight. You squeeze your eyes shut, pretending to be asleep, but you can feel him watching you again — like a tangible thing, heavy and hot in the darkness.

“You awake?” His voice is a low whisper, rough and full of something dangerous.

You don’t answer. Can’t.

Dean exhales, a soft curse under his breath. The mattress creaks again as he stands. You hear the soft pad of his boots hitting the floor, the rustle of denim sliding down legs. You swallow hard, biting your lip to keep from making a sound.

When you dare to crack one eye open, Dean is climbing into bed — your bed.

You stiffen instinctively, heart hammering.

“What are you doing?” you hiss, voice barely audible.

Dean smirks in the dark. You can see the white flash of his teeth. “Window’s drafty. Cold as hell over there.”

You narrow your eyes. “There’s another bed.”

Dean shifts closer under the covers, his bare arm brushing yours. His skin is warm — almost too warm — and you can smell the clean, woodsy scent of his soap still clinging to him.

“I’ll behave,” he murmurs. “Scout’s honor.”

You snort softly. “Were you ever a Boy Scout?”

“Nope.” His grin widens. “But I look damn good in uniform.”

You turn away, facing the wall, but it doesn’t help.

Dean’s heat seeps into your side, his breath stirring the fine hairs at the back of your neck.

Minutes pass.

Long, slow, torturous minutes.

You shift, pulling the blanket higher. Dean shifts with you, the mattress dipping. His thigh brushes yours — not an accident.

You freeze, barely breathing.

Dean’s voice is a low rumble against your ear. “You’re killing me, sweetheart.”

Your mouth goes dry.

“You think you’re the only one suffering?” you whisper, before you can stop yourself.

Silence falls between you — heavy, loaded.

Then Dean laughs, low and dangerous.

It’s the kind of sound that promises very, very bad things.

Good things.

You don’t move when his hand drifts across the small space between you, fingers ghosting the curve of your hip over the blanket. A featherlight touch — asking, not taking.

Your body lights up like a struck match.

“You want me to stop,” Dean murmurs, his lips so close to your ear that you can feel them move, “say so.”

You bite your lip, fists clenching the sheets. Your whole body screams for him to touch you harder, deeper — to take — but something stubborn in you holds the line.

Not yet.

Not yet.

Instead, you whisper, “You’re gonna regret starting this, Winchester.”

Dean’s hand stills.

His breath is ragged against your neck.

“Baby,” he growls, so low it’s almost a snarl, “I’m already too far gone.”

You dare to glance back at him, just a little — enough to see the way his jaw is tight with restraint, how his green eyes are dark and burning.

One move.

One move, and you could have him.

But you don’t.

You turn back toward the wall, every nerve in your body straining.

Dean swears softly. His hand retreats, but not before dragging slowly — deliberately — over your waist, your hip, your thigh.

You squeeze your eyes shut, trembling.

Neither of you sleep that night.

⸻

The morning light creeps in through the thin curtains, pale and dusty.

You’re not sure when you fell asleep — if you even did — but when you blink your eyes open, the first thing you notice is that Dean is still there.

Still close.

Too close.

His arm is slung heavy across your waist, his bare chest pressed along your back. You can feel the slow, steady thud of his heart against your spine — the heat of his skin, the solid, unmistakable weight of him.

And something else, too.

Something thick and hard, nudging insistently against the curve of your ass.

You freeze. Your pulse skyrockets.

Dean shifts behind you, groaning low in his throat, like he’s trying to get closer even in sleep. His hips roll, just a little, and the thick press of him drags along your backside, hot and heavy.

You bite your lip so hard you taste blood.

“Dean,” you whisper, but it comes out broken, needy.

He stirs — awake now.

You feel the exact moment his body goes tense. His breath catches, a soft, strangled sound against your neck.

“Fuck,” he mutters hoarsely. His hand flexes on your waist, like he’s torn between pulling you closer and pushing himself away.

“Shit, sweetheart,” he rasps, voice rough with sleep and hunger. “Tell me to stop.”

You don’t.

You can’t.

Instead, you push back — just a fraction of an inch — enough to feel the full, hard length of him against you.

Dean swears viciously.

“You’re playing with fire,” he growls.

You tilt your hips, teasing him. “Maybe I like it.”

That’s it.

That’s all it takes.

Dean flips you onto your back in a single, fluid motion, caging you beneath him. His hands are planted on either side of your head, muscles flexed, every line of his body taut with restraint.

His face hovers over yours, close enough that you can feel the heat of his breath. His green eyes blaze down at you — hungry, desperate, feral.

“You have no idea,” he snarls, “how long I’ve been wanting to do this.”

And then he kisses you — hard, bruising, devastating.

It’s not soft, not sweet. It’s claiming.

Dean kisses like he’s starving, like he needs you to breathe, and you open for him willingly, moaning low in your throat as his tongue sweeps into your mouth, hot and demanding.

You fist your hands in his hair, dragging him closer, tasting the hunger in every rough pull of his lips, every desperate scrape of teeth.

Dean breaks the kiss with a gasp, forehead dropping to yours.

“Fuck,” he pants. “Tell me you want this.”

You meet his eyes — blown wide with lust, desperate and raw — and there’s no hesitation, no fear.

“I want you,” you whisper. “I want all of you.”

Dean growls low in his chest, deep and primal.

“You’re gonna get it, sweetheart,” he promises darkly. “Every goddamn inch.”

He peels your T-shirt up over your head in one swift motion, groaning when he sees you — bare, flushed, wanting. His calloused hands skate over your skin, reverent and rough all at once, mapping every curve, every shiver.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous,” he mutters, like he’s talking to himself. Like he can’t believe you’re real.

You tug at his own shirt, desperate to feel him, to get your hands on that broad, strong body you’ve imagined a hundred times over.

Dean strips it off, baring a chest dusted with light hair, muscles flexing under golden skin.

He’s a force above you, a living furnace, and when he ducks his head to kiss down your throat, your collarbone, your breasts — you arch up, gasping, fingers clawing at his back.

His mouth is hot and wet, teeth scraping lightly, teasingly, until you’re squirming under him, whimpering his name.

“Dean—”

He shushes you with another searing kiss, grinding his hips down, letting you feel exactly how hard he is for you. Exactly how badly he needs you.

You moan into his mouth, rolling your hips up to meet his, desperate for more friction, more everything.

Dean curses again, voice wrecked.

“Need to taste you,” he growls against your skin. “Need to hear you fall apart for me.”

You don’t have time to answer before he’s sliding down your body, nipping, licking, worshipping every inch of skin he uncovers.

When his mouth finds the apex of your thighs — bare, aching, ready — you cry out, threading your fingers into his hair, pulling him closer.

Dean groans like a man tasting salvation.

And then he devours you.

Dean’s mouth is sin, pure and devastating.

He licks a long, slow stripe through your folds, groaning deep in his chest like you’re the best thing he’s ever tasted. His tongue works you open — slow at first, deliberate — every flick, every swirl designed to unravel you molecule by molecule.

You’re already a mess, gasping, writhing under him, clutching at the sheets.

Dean chuckles against your core, the vibrations making you whimper.

“Goddamn,” he rasps, voice wrecked. “You’re fuckin’ perfect. Sweetest thing I ever had.”

You moan brokenly, hips bucking up into his face.

Dean moans and pins your hips down, forcing you to take everything he gives.

He slides two fingers inside you, thick and perfect, curling just right, and at the same time his tongue circles your clit, hot and relentless.

The pleasure is too much.

Too sharp. Too perfect.

You shatter — screaming his name, coming hard against his mouth, against his fingers — your body jerking helplessly, every muscle locking tight before falling boneless into the mattress.

Dean doesn’t stop.

He keeps licking you through it, drinking you down like he’s starving, savoring every tremble, every moan.

Only when you’re gasping, too sensitive, does he finally pull back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, a cocky, filthy grin splitting his face.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful when you fall apart,” he rasps.

You barely have time to catch your breath before Dean’s crawling back up your body, grabbing your thighs, spreading them wide around his hips.

You feel him — hot, hard, heavy — pressing against your entrance, still clothed in nothing but throbbing need.

“Condom?” he pants, forehead pressed to yours.

“Bag,” you manage, voice shaking.

Dean fumbles in your duffel at the foot of the bed, cursing under his breath when he finds it. He rips the foil packet open with his teeth, slicks himself quickly, and then he’s back between your thighs, pushing your legs up, lining himself up with you.

His eyes lock with yours — wild, hungry, burning.

“You sure, sweetheart?” he growls. “Last chance.”

You wrap your legs around his hips, dragging him closer. “Dean,” you whisper. “I need you. Now.”

He swears — low, broken — and then he’s pushing in, the thick head of his cock stretching you, making you cry out.

“Fuck,” Dean groans, burying himself slowly, inch by devastating inch. “So goddamn tight. So perfect.”

You clutch at his shoulders, nails digging into muscle as he bottoms out, hips flush against yours.

You’ve never felt so full, so claimed.

Dean drops his forehead to your shoulder, trembling with the effort not to move.

“You’re killin’ me, baby,” he mutters. “Feelin’ you around me — fuck — like you were made for me.”

He draws back, almost all the way out, then slams back in, hard and deep.

You cry out, head tipping back.

Dean finds a rhythm — deep, punishing thrusts that leave you gasping, clinging to him, desperate for more.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he pants, thrusting harder. “Take it. Take all of me.”

You meet him stroke for stroke, the slap of skin on skin obscene in the quiet room.

Dean growls, grabbing your thigh and hiking it higher, angling you so he can drive even deeper.

You see stars. You can’t even think.

His hand finds your throat — not squeezing, just holding, possessive — and the shock of it makes you clench around him, wringing a raw moan from his lips.

“You like that, baby?” he snarls, fucking into you harder. “You like me takin’ you like this?”

“Yes,” you sob. “Dean, please —”

He covers your mouth with his, swallowing your cries, his thrusts rough and wild now, desperate.

“I’m not gonna last,” he groans against your lips. “Too good. So fuckin’ good.”

His fingers find your clit again, rubbing quick, brutal circles, sending you hurtling toward the edge.

“Come for me,” he commands, voice dark and filthy. “Come on my cock.”

You fall apart again — shattering, screaming his name, every muscle clenching, your body spasming around him.

Dean follows with a growl, driving deep, grinding his hips against yours as he spills inside you, his whole body trembling with the force of it.

For a long, breathless moment, neither of you moves.

You just cling to each other, panting, wrecked.

Dean buries his face in your neck, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses there, his body still shuddering slightly.

“You’re mine now,” he murmurs against your skin. “You hear me? Mine.”

You smile, dazed and sated, threading your fingers through his sweat-damp hair.

“Yours,” you whisper back.

Dean stays inside you for a minute, still pressed tight against you, catching his breath. His weight is heavy — comforting — and you cling to him, fingers sliding up and down the slick muscles of his back.

Neither of you says anything.

No words needed.

Finally, Dean groans softly and shifts, pulling out with a low grunt that makes your cheeks heat all over again.

He ties off the condom quickly, tossing it toward the trash without even looking.

You expect him to roll away, maybe pass out like most guys would.

But Dean surprises you.

Instead, he reaches for you, tugging you against his chest, wrapping you up tight in his arms. One big, warm hand cradles the back of your head. The other strokes slow, soothing lines up and down your spine.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he murmurs against your temple, voice low and wrecked but gentle now.

You nod, still a little dazed.

Dean chuckles softly, the sound vibrating through your whole body.

“Fucked you good, didn’t I?” he teases, but there’s something raw and vulnerable underneath the cockiness — like he needs to hear you say it. Like he needs to know he didn’t break you, only made you his.

You smile, sleepy and sore and ridiculously happy.

“The best,” you whisper. “No contest.”

Dean pulls back just enough to look at you, his green eyes warm, soft, utterly wrecked with affection.

He brushes a few sweaty strands of hair from your forehead with surprising tenderness.

“Yeah?” he says, grinning that stupid, boyish grin that melts you faster than the sex ever could. “Guess that means you’re stuck with me now.”

You laugh, burying your face in his chest. His skin smells like sex and sweat and soap, like everything you never knew you needed.

“I think I can live with that,” you murmur.

Dean kisses your hair, slow and lingering.

“You better,” he says, voice low and rough. “Because I’m not lettin’ you go. Not after this. Not ever.”

You fall asleep like that — tangled up with him, your head on his chest, his heartbeat steady and strong under your ear.

For the first time in what feels like forever, you know you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

Wrapped up in Dean Winchester’s arms.

[anya-nya-nya]

NSFW themes (mention of masturbation), GN! reader, isekai'd reader, yandere, stalking, voyeurism (kinda)

Idea for isekai'd reader with yandere! Anaxagoras:

In his countless attempts to prove the theories of useless titans and the amount of unknown worlds behind Aquila’s shield, Anaxa accidentally made a poison - or some kind of artefact - that let him see another world. YOURS world.

Seems like for some reason his invitation - the window, not a portal - was invisible. And it sticks for one certain person. The drug of excitement blurred the scientist's mind and for a moment he made a false conjecture, thinking this person is probably a main lead of the current world, maybe some kind of politician or someone from another fraction but with the same amount of status. Hell, maybe this is a scientist too, and soon the connection would be mutual.

But critical points of view quickly get back, as most of the time all Anaxa sees was some.. basic, boring life. Friends, work, school.. As if he was looking not to another world but into the window, down on the streets with all these simpletons from Okhema. Maybe culture was different, but overall you were just.. well, a simple human.

Such a conclusion spoils the whole goal of his research, but Anaxa didn't give up, hoping to either expand the gap he made to this world, or find a receipt that will help him see other planets too. In a few first days he actually fulfills a few scrolls with all facts about your life, even the most intimate or basic one. But after he realizes the lack of power and need you possess in your world, he stops wasting paper and even gets irritated about the time he spends on such useless things.

He didn't drop this project though, sometimes checking on you. In some way, you become something like a pocket pet he didn't need to care for, only to watch and relax. And even though Anaxa cuts the time he spends watching you, it's become some kind of stress relief habit: peeking into your world just to see you're preparing for sleep, just as he does. Or dressing up to meet that stupid friend of yours - the sigh of your nude body didn't really bother this scholar that much.

Maybe he preferred to think that way.

Even for someone with as great brains as the Great Performer had, it was easy to overlook the trick his mind just did. Anaxa becomes attached. Eventually he couldn't fall asleep without watching how you brush your teeth and sprawl on your bed.

The gathered information now looked ridiculously scant. He knows when you lay down and when you actually drift to sleep after spending some time in your teleslate. But what about your breath, how it changes as your mind relaxes? How quickly your body becomes warm and soft in the embrace of dreams? Never a person laid in your bedroom, and for the first time Anaxa realized how pleased this thought always made him. But how would you act sharing a bed with someone? How would you act sharing a bed.. with him?

If before the amount of personal info he collected was useless, now it was his treasure he keeps expanding. Now Anaxa is not just observed, but peered into you and your body when you take a shower, undress, or even masturbate. He is thirsty to learn, to know every sliver of your life, especially things you show only to yourself.

Moreso, his questionable morality let him do more than just writing down things like that. With curiosity, arousal was also raised, and sometimes Anaxa let himself drift into intoxicating control of watching you like that. Masturbating to your naked body in the bath was good, but turning on his magic window and suddenly catching you pleasing yourself was more exciting than any successful poison or theory he made before. Not like he didn't turn his jerking off sessions into lessons too: learning your favourite rhythm, strength of thrusts.. Anaxa always adjusted to your speed to make it more realistic, as if he was just right here, with you, not only looking, but touching, feeling.

Titans and Chrysos Heirs can do anything they want atp: Anaxa is now absolutely devoted to finding a key to another problem. If it was possible to create a little window into your world, the door is also available and waits to be created and opened. As much as you’re just waiting for him, for the person who knows your habits better than anyone else and who would be an ideal boyfriend after analyzing the best way he should treat you.

You didn't know you were his subject, but now he will make sure to let you know how much of a lover you are to him.

[shycloudkitty]

Time off

Summary: A rare time off with your boyfriend spent in creative ways ;)

Pairing: Re4r Leon × Fem! reader

Tags: NSFW 18+, MDNI!!! , Soft dom Leon, Oral (f! receiving), spanking, Swear words, Fluff, Light angst, Mostly fluff, premature ejaculation

A/N: Long time no see you guys!!! Okay so this is my second time writing smut, it's kind of clunky ig? But I feel like it has improved (I really hope it has). Shoutout to @writingwisterias and @fawnsflowerbed for giving me useful advice, the writing is not perfect but I feel like it has gotten better. Okay so, Things written in italics are a flashback scene, so be mindful of that.

WC: 4.1K

Credits to @/strangergraphics for dividers

Masterlist | Ao3 account

Finally, God, finally. A week free from work.

A week where you could happily enjoy the company of your boyfriend. Surprisingly, he happened to be free at the same time as you. Miracles do exist, it seems.

And now these past few days, you were in your boyfriend's arms sleeping late just because you can. Cuddling and laughing while he made another corny joke, he was charming enough to get away with it. Making out lazily and whispering sweet nothings to each other.

It was a miracle because whenever he was free, your hectic job used to pull in for a new project or a meeting. You couldn't help but dread and curse at your job for pulling you out of your boyfriend's arms while he was kissing your neck and caressing you all over like he could do it all day. And then, you have to leave.

“Leon, I'm sorry baby but I have to leave. It's important.”

As soon as those dreadful words leave your mouth he immediately holds onto you tightly, muscular arms wrapping around your waist as if caging you and huffs like a child who was about to throw a tantrum.

“No.”

“What do you mean ‘No’?”

“No.”

You tried to wriggle yourself out of his grip but it was useless. Trying to push his arms away that were wrapped around you but they only grew tighter like a venus flytrap capturing a fly.

You couldn't help but groan half heartedly at his attempts. “Oh come on, Leon. You know I will be back soon.”

He rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Yeah… like an eternity later when I'm old and sad and…miserable thinking about where my one true love went…”

His hands slowly slipped inside your clothes as he caressed your skin there, you suppressed a shiver as his calloused hands roamed your soft skin.

He sighed dramatically. “You want me to die old thinking when that asshole of your boss would let you come home?”

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes. He could be dramatic when he needed to be. “Y'know I will come home by 8 right?”

“Same thing.” Honestly, if it was upto him he would have marched up to your office and gave your boss a ‘talk’ about calling you whenever he wanted some help with work but he knew you would be upset so he didn't.

You were sure if you rolled your eyes any further they would fall out of your skull. When did he got so dramatic? “Leon, I will make it upto you I promise but for now I have to go really.”

He held you tightly for a few more minutes and saw you weren't budging, he couldn't help but sigh deeply and loosen up a bit. Giving you a chance to slip out.

You don't, it's not like you were happy to leave him here all by himself. You definitely wanted to keep cuddling with him, feel him wrap around you like a warm blanket on a cold night. Talking to him until one of you falls asleep or till your talks drift somewhere else… that somewhere being your face buried in a pillow while he arranged your insides from behind, him whispering all kinds of dirty things that made you come undone.

You looked back at him and cupping his face in your hands, his eyes looked into yours giving you puppy eyes which could melt anyone's heart but reserved only for you. You kiss his cheek, softly whispering. “Leon, I'm sorry but it's important. I don't wanna leave you either.”

“Then don't.” His answer came immediately. He leaned into your touch pressing a soft kiss in your palm, making your heart melt once more.

You sigh and kiss his forehead softly. Your thumb caressed his cheek gently as you continued to console him with love. “Babe don't make it any more difficult than it has to be. I promise I will make it upto you tonight.”

He slowly nods and immediately hugs you tightly in his arms and grumbles. “Fine, but if works calls in once more, I'm going there myself to talk to your boss.”

You chuckled and kissed him. “Deal.” He kisses you back, a small smile appearing on his face.

You pulled away and started make your way out of bed when he immediately yanked you back and held you tightly, making you yelp in surprise.

“Leon!”

“Just pretty please. 30 more minutes.”

“30?!”

“Ugh. Fine. 20 minutes. God it's like you love your job more than me.”

“It kind of pays my bills y'know.”

“I can too. Stay. 20 minutes. Final offer.”

You knew it was useless to fight against this, might as well rest up while you can. You can tell your boss you got held up in traffic or something.

And whenever you were free, it was him getting yanked into his government missions to save the world, literally. Not that you weren't grateful. But him leaving always felt like a piece of your heart breaking. The type of work he was in… there was no telling when he would come back or if he would even come back.

What words might be his last to hear, which emotions would be his last to be feel, will it be fear or will it be anger?

It was kind of funny, in a dark way. When you left home, all he was complaining about was not getting enough cuddles.

But when he leaves home, you don't even know if he will be back. And neither did he, although he tried his best to make you think otherwise.

It was still early in the morning when some rustling sounds around the room, woke you up from your peaceful sleep.

Your eyes slowly open, adjusting to the dark room barely lit up from the sunlight. You could make out the silhouette of your boyfriend preparing his duffel bag for his mission. He was trying his best to be quiet, tiptoeing across the room to collect his things.

You watched him quietly, not wanting to interrupt what he was doing and also avoiding a goodbye.

Opening his closet to take some warm clothes, going to the bathroom to pack some essentials. Taking out his gun from his closet which was usually hidden well, although you never tried to search for his gun when he was home. Things were difficult as it is & to digest the fact that there was an actual gun in your home was a whole different tale.

You watched him wear his mission clothes, gearing up with his knives and keeping his gun to one of his pockets, fixing his tactical gloves.

He sighs to himself looking around if he was missing anything then he looked towards your sleeping form in the dark room, the only thing he had left was to say goodbye to you.

He walks towards you, his boots creaking against the floor, you closed your eyes immediately trying to look like you were sleeping. You felt your side of the bed dip slightly and a hand gently caressing your hair, his warm breath fanning your neck.

A soft whisper fill your ears. “It's time for me to go now, I know you will be pissed but I have to do this.”

He takes a deep breath and continues. “It's always dangerous but knowing you're here waiting for me, helps me through it all.”

His fingers towards your cheek and gently caresses it with his knuckles. “You put up with so much shit, I don't know how… you're still here with me. You're the most important person to me. I love you so much.”

He presses a soft kiss on your forehead and holds one of your hands tightly. He sighs and buries his face in your hair, closing his eyes.

You feel a lump rise in your throat as you just stay there with your eyes closed not wanting to say goodbye, it broke your heart every time as he left but you also had to be brave, the last thing you wanted is him worrying about you.

You let out a shaky breath and whispered. “I love you too…”

He simply wraps an arm around your waist and kisses your neck. “I will be back soon.”

“Okay… just be safe.” Leon nods at your words and then gently tilts your head to face him, pressing a soft slow kiss on your lips. He always said his goodbyes like this. He could never say it out loud, it was better to show you how much he would miss you.

You both slowly part from your kisses and look at each other like it was your last. You softly ask. “30 more minutes?”

A soft chuckle leaves his lips, his knuckles gently tracing your cheek and replies. “Not 20?”

You shake your head “No.”

“What if I have to leave in 20 minutes?”

“I don't care. I want you for 30.”

You see his familiar smirk blooming on his face whenever he is amused by you. “Bossy & demanding.”

You shrug and feel your smile widening. “Well, someone has to be The Woman in this relationship.”

His soft chuckle turns into a full laugh, the warm sound filling your shared bedroom, making this goodbye into something much warmer. His eyes crinkle around the corners and smile at you. “You're right, someone has to.”

He adds in with a shrug “I can do 30 minutes, if you add in the kisses.”

Your smile widens and nod. “Deal."

He lays down on your side, getting under the sheets once more but this time with full gear. “Scoot over.” He mumbles.

You scoff. “No way, I'm on my side, I'm too comfy to move.”

He rolls his eyes and says. “You want cuddles or not.”

You grumble under your breath but comply by shifting in bed, giving him plenty of space. After getting comfortable he pulls you in and wraps his arms around you, his chin resting on top of your head and your warm breath hitting the nape of his neck.

Your grip tightens around him, soaking it all in once more before he goes…

That's how usually things went for you both, just trying your best to be by each other's side. Testing fate whenever you both can.

But this week, finally, you are both home. Safe and sound. In each other's arms & watching a movie, what better way to spend time together as a couple… Or that was the plan at first.

Now, you are sitting on the couch with your legs spread, panting heavily and moaning his name endlessly, both hands gripping your thighs, so you can't squirm away from him while his face is buried in your warm cunt.

Movie plans being far forgotten now along with your clothes and the sly bastard was still in his clothes.

He was on his knees, tongue swirling around your puffy clit, sucking on it happily while you whined that it was getting too much for you and him getting hard as a rock in his sweatpants. Grinding his hips against the edge of the couch, letting out occasional grunts and low moans as he wats you out.

One of his hands leaves your thighs to dip his fingers into your entrance to collect the juices flowing out of you, using it to lubricate his fingers as he gently pushes them inside. A soft moan slipping your lips at the feeling. “Lee…”

He kisses your inner thigh in response and mumbles. “You're doing wonderful, sweetheart… such a good girl for me.”

He starts to move his fingers at a steady pace while his tongue plays with your clit. Coaxing soft whines with his pace but then he curls against that spongy spot that always makes you sing louder for him. He gets his answer pretty quickly when you eagerly grind against his mouth and fingers for more.

He couldn't help but smirk at how easy it is to get you riled up. A few kisses here and there, some filthy words spoken, careful measured touches…and soon you were a beautiful mess for him.

Huge ego boost too since only he could unravel you like this. And he loved you for it. The moans, the tiny whimpers and gasps you make when he touches or tastes you, never fails to send a shiver down his spine.

It turned him on just by looking at you, seeing the way you surrender yourself for him, let him do whatever he wants. To know you trust him so much that you'd surrender yourself to him so easily.

Panting for breaths, your legs weakly settle on his broad shoulders immediately wrapping around his head as he keeps going.

He removes his fingers briefly only to delve his tongue deep in your warm pussy, nose bumping your sensitive nub, hearing those pathetic moans of yours that were driving him insane.

He tips his head up a bit to see your expression and he couldn't help the growl that leaves his lips. Your pretty face flushed red, sweat forming on your forehead, your hair being a beautiful mess, framing you into a perfect image of sin.

And the combination is just enough for him to immediately cums, humping the couch chasing his relief. A guttural moan leaves his lips against your folds as he rides his high, his tongue eventually slowing down and closes his eyes because his head feels lighter and dizzy. He adjusts himself and grunts at the feeling, his cock twitching lightly in his sweatpants.

He pulls back briefly to rest his head on your cushiony thighs. His words are breathy, chest heaving as he catches his breath. “Sorry, princess… didn't mean to do that so early…Give me one minute…”

Your breath hitches at the sight, him losing control of himself like this was rare but a welcome sight. His usual perfect blonde hair now sticking to his forehead, pupils blown wide and lust written all over his face. It didn't bother you that he came earlier than you, if anything it made you proud of yourself that you can make him lose his mind like this.

He mentally curses himself for losing control of himself so early when you didn't even reach the peak yourself. But he couldn't help it, the taste of your juices along with the sight of you surrendered to him…it would take a miracle for any man to not lose control like he did. A part of him still felt wrong for cumming before you did and he tries not to focus on it too much.

He felt your hands gently tugging his hair upwards, he looks up to see you, panting heavily and mumbling softly. “Yeah?”

Your heart melts at the sight and smile at him. “You good?”

He closes his eyes once more and mumbles dryly. “Yeah… yeah, M’ good. Just catching my breath.”

Your fingers gently massage his scalp as his head rests on your thigh. Your tone turning more soft as you talk to him. “It's fine, take your time.”

He nods and slowly says. “Sorry, really…didn't mean to-”

You interrupt him with a soft shush and keep caressing his hair gently. “It's fine, baby, nothing’s wrong… We can stop, if you want. No shame in it.”

He shakes his head and peppers kisses across your inner thighs. “Mmm, no way, I ain't leaving you high and dry like that.”

After a few moments, when he feels much normal, he starts again, slow and steady. His hands gently grip your hips, gently biting the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, sending a jolt through your spine as you start to feel worked up once more.

His mouth dives back into your pussy, he lays his tongue flat as he slowly moves it up and down your folds. His tongue lazily circling around your clit, smirking to himself when he starts to feel your hips twitch in his grip, his grip tightens to prevent you from squirming too much and continues his work.

He closes his eyes once more and simply focuses on you. Your soft moans, the way you tug his hair helplessly, motivating him to go further. He slowly inserts one of his finger, moving it inside you, feeling your walls contract around it. He inserts another and hears you yelp, trying to pull away from his grip. He grumbles disapprovingly against your clit and pushes his fingers deeper inside you, occasionally curling them.

Your skin grows hotter like before, breathing coming in short pants, thighs clenching around his head from the pleasure coursing through your veins but he makes no motions to stop you.

His hand that was on your hips moves to caress your waist gently, rubbing your back, helping you relax. He flicks his tongue against your sensitive nub of nerves, sucking on it, anything to get you closer to the edge.

You arch your back, trying to bring him even close to your core. A plethora of names and broken whines leaving your sweet lips, indicating to him that you were close.

He suddenly pulls back, breaking his pace to look at you. “Look at you, dollface…So fucking pretty just for me.” His hands travel up towards your chest, roaming towards your smooth curves, feeling your skin under his own. He teasingly ran his hands over your plump breasts, cupping them and pinching your nipples playfully, slowly rolling those soft peaks between his index and middle finger.

You whine and huff at him, glaring at him to stop toying you like this. This was probably the second time he brought you this close. It did feel good but right now all you wanted was to just fall apart by his tongue and fingers.

He has a big smirk on his face when he sees you glaring daggers at him. “Use your words hon'.” Pinching your nipples once more for emphasis.

Words? You didn't even had a chance to breathe when he started all this. And now he was teasing you instead of finishing what he started.

You groan from frustration and try to speak but the words come out in a half broken moan. “Just make me cum, Leon… I was already so close.”

Leon smirk doesn't wavers if anything it only gets bigger when he hears you beg. “I was just admiring the view, baby” He raises himself up and starts to kiss the nape of your neck, kissing away the beads of sweat, tasting the salt on your hot skin.

Both of his hands drift back down to your hips, giving you few gentle spanks but also gently rubbing the spot to soothe the skin, the roughness of his hands raising goosebumps on the bare expanse of your skin. His touch slowly travels back to your inner thighs, pulling your hips near the couch’s edge so he could settle between them. He hears you whine near his ear, your desire and impatience apparent. “Leon…-”

He immediately captures your lips in a deep kiss and mumbles against them. “I know baby… I know…” He deepens the kiss, his tongue tangling with yours in a passionate dance, demanding your focus into the demanding kiss instead of your delayed orgasm. One of his hands grabbed the back of your neck so you couldn't pull away from it either.

Your body shudders from the intensity of the kiss as he swallows every sound as it left your lips, eyes fluttering close, you allow yourself just enough to get lost in the kiss. And he feels your legs relax just enough. He suddenly pushes two fingers back inside your pussy, smirking when he sees your eyes opening wide and a yelp leaving your throat. “Fuckkk! Fuck! Leon-” You feel the familiar stretch of his fingers and try to push him away, mewling as your walls soon accommodate the feeling of his fingers.

Whines turn into desperate low moans as he starts to move his thick digits, once again curling them against your spongy spot. Your eyes roll in the back of your skull as he pulls you in a kiss once again. His voice turning into a mocking one. “You wanted to cum, yeah? Well, go on. Nothing's stopping you, not whining now are ya?”

You try to kiss him back but instead it's just more messier than before, string of saliva connecting your mouth to his as you pull back. Your vision blurs as you feel your orgasm starting to close on you with each thrust of his fingers. You choke up on your moan. “M’ gonna cum!”

Leon's smirk only widens as he hears it and leans in to gently tug at your earlobe and huskily whispers. “Ride those fingers for me, paint ‘em with your cum.”

Your body feels hotter at his words, hips starting to move at their own accord now, just need that sweet release that was nearing the edge.

He kisses your collarbone and keeps mumbling. “Yes, sweetheart, you're doing so well, look at you…” His sweet praises were what you needed as you suddenly felt your orgasm crashing over you, a scream of his name ripping through your chest, legs giving out as your juices gushed around his fingers.

He helps you ride out your high and slowly pulls out of your aching hole, immediately putting his digits in his mouth, softly groaning at the taste of your cum. “Mmhmm, Jesus…” He licks them clean and looks down at your spent body and grins to himself. “Would you look at that…So pretty.”

He gently caresses your body as it shakes from pleasure. Leaning down to pepper soft kisses from your waist to the swell of your chest, slowly making his way up your body. He finally reaches your lips as he drops a soft kiss. He leans back and grins at you. “I was good, wasn't I?”

You chuckle breathlessly as you stare at him, feeling like you probably have melted in goo on the couch. Replying to him in a breathy tone. “Good doesn't…even begin…to cover it.”

Leon chuckles along with you, gently brushing some of the hair away which was sticking on your skin cause of sweat. He drops a soft kiss on your forehead. “I aim to please, sweetheart…Now come ‘ere.”

He groans softly as he stands up front sitting on his knees for so long. He sits down on the couch, leaning back & spreads his legs, stretching them a bit. He gently pulls you in his lap, allowing you to just simply curl up as you sit there, his chin resting on the top of your head. His fingers thread through your hair, gently untangling any knots that came across his way while you came down your high.

You sigh, feeling your shudders subside in his arms and reply. “God, I don't think I can walk even now.”

His lips turn into a mischievous smile, his chest puffing up at your words. “I know & you're welcome.” And drops a kiss on your head.

You roll your eyes at his self-satisfied tone. “So Humble.”

You feel his chest rumble up from soft laugh as he replies smugly. “I know right, considering how much noise you were making I should brag more.”

You hit his chest lightly and feign annoyance at him. “Shut up.”

A stupid wide grin spreads across his face as you hit him, his arms squeeze around your body, pulling you closer and says. “What? It's not a bad thing to accept the fact that I'm just that good.”

“I didn't say that.”

“It felt like you did.”

“I was hoping for more quiet cuddling and less bragging.” Playful exasperation apparent in your words.

He rolls his eyes and dramatically sighs but his voice is full of teasing. “Jesus, fine, a guy can't even brag about making his girl satisfied. But okay, whatever the princess demands.”

He hears laughter spilling from your lips and feels his heart melt from the sound, his hands gently rub your back. And he buries his face in your neck, kissing you there softly. “Wanna get cleaned up in the shower or too tired?”

You nod and reply. “No… I wanna shower but only if you carry me.” Playfully batting your eyelashes at him.

He chuckles and stands up with you in his arms, prompting you to wrap your arms around his neck. He passed the same playful smile back at you. “Was gonna do that anyway, Princess.”

Your giggles fill the air as he carries you quite happily to the bathroom. You rest your head on his chest and briefly close your eyes praying, that you'd both get more time like this more often.

Hello, everyone!!! So happy to be back. Good news- I have already started working on some requests from last time, I wasn't writing anything for these few months cause of exams, I'm still not exactly free but I think I can manage.

Other than that, I hope the smut is good enough to enjoy, I know it's not perfect😅 but I'm working on that, this is the only area where I get stuck Lol. Do let me know if you guys want me to improve in some areas or anything else you'd like to see.

Hope you all have a good day!

-Bella

[meiieiri]

𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐩 [toji fushiguro]

synopsis: toji will never forget the first night he spent away from the zenin clan and the day he met you.

pairing: toji fushiguro x f!reader | song inspo: saw you in a dream, timeless | hidden inventory: the lost tapes series masterlist

warnings: mentions of emotional abuse but generally pretty much a fluff fic where toji and y/n meet for the first time. | a/n: finally launching my little love project called “hidden inventory: the lost tapes”! 🍒

Now isn’t this just perfect?

Toji’s is just one inconvenience away from just going back to the Zenin clan with his tail between his legs. First, he underestimates just how expensive living in Tokyo is so, with what little pocket money his emotionally distant mother gave him before he left the estate, the first thing he does is spend it all on a girl — in broad daylight — he’s heard his brother, Jinichi, talk about those cute little call girls that crawl the streets of Kabukichō with flyers in their hand for thirty-minute “massages”. Naturally, as a young man who is only first experiencing the carnal joys the city has to offer, Toji was curious and he took the bait.

A bait that cost him ¥30,000 and the girl was unfortunately sloppy at best.

Now, he doesn’t have money to buy so much as a soggy red bean pancake for dinner. He doesn’t know how long he’s been walking around this dingy part of Shinjuku but as long as the red light district’s trashy ambience is distracting him from the growling of his stomach, then, he’ll stumble around this hellhole until morning.

“Ha! You won’t even last two minutes out there!” That’s what Naobito Zenin, the head of the clan said to him when he left. “Only two things await you when you get out of here, either you’ll die hungry or a cursed spirit will get to you first — either way, you’ll die with your eyes wide open with no one!”

Overrun by his thoughts, Toji doesn’t even notice that he accidentally intruded on a random cockroach and curse-infested alleyway that apparently belonged to some junkie who is now angrily telling him to get lost. “I was just looking for a place to sit down,” Toji scoffs. Weren’t they both bottom feeders in this city? Why was this rancid-smelling meth addict acting like he’s any better than him?

“Well, go sit somewhere else, this place is off-limits!”

It was almost funny how Toji thought that the world beyond the gates of the Zenin estate was any better than the shit show he was born into.

He should have known better than to be enticed by the glitz and glamour of living independently from his abusive family who at least had the decency to feed him maggoty rice from the estate’s second storehouse dedicated to prepare the animals’ food. They also gave him shelter, of course, he’s had to live in the Zenin estate’s shed for a while now since his father discovered he was born useless without an ounce of cursed energy. But at least he was warm, and the termites made him feel less lonely.

He continues on in his aimless quest. The night is still young. There’s plenty of time for self-depreciating introspection.

Hopefully, that grade three cursed spirit that’s been following him around the block for a while now gets to him first before the rain does.

“That guy over there,” your coworker whispers to you from the cash registers. “He’s been there for a while now and he hasn’t ordered anything.”

You look up from your pocketbook, your eyes curiously trained on the rugged looking man whose eyes were downcast, trained on the service water he requested from the counter when he came in. As if he could feel a pair of eyes on him, he looks up, and glances your way for a bit but you quickly hide your face behind your book.

“He kinda looks like trouble, no? Shady too, just look at the scar on his lip…”

“It’s not fair to judge someone like that, Rika-chan,” you whispered to your junior, turning to arrange the menus, painstakingly wiping each one clean with a cloth dampened with sanitizer. A small smirk appears on Toji’s lips at your passive defense of his character and as if to goad you on, he drums his fingertips against the table daring you to say another word. “Anyway, I’ll handle closing the shop tonight. You need to get home since you have class in a few hours.”

That seemed sudden. Rika looks at you funnily before shrugging off her apron in favor of her raincoat. “Well, alright, if you insist. Should I clean up the kitchen at least?”

“I’ll handle it,” you give her a thumbs up, waving her goodbye as she leaves through the backdoor. Now that you’re alone, you could hardly stop yourself from glancing at the mysterious man, and Toji himself wonders if his presence here is starting to turn into a nuisance. You were probably waiting for him to step out so you could close shop for the night but it’s raining hard right now and there are no other places open nearby to take shelter in.

The chair’s feet screeches against the wooden floorboards and you head to the restaurant’s kitchen. Toji stares at your retreating form, looks like he overstayed his welcome. He searches around for a few coins to give to you for your hospitality, of course, it probably doesn’t mean jack shit, but you must have known he didn’t have enough money for a meal when he came in here. You would have realized that immediately. But you allowed him to stay regardless.

You return a couple of minutes later with a bowl miso soup with ginger pork gyoza and shredded cabbages. You set the bowl down in front of him and Toji is thoroughly taken aback, he looks at you dumbfounded. “I don’t have any money,” his voice comes out a little gruffly but you barely flinch at the sharp edge of his tone.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Refilling his water, you explained that while you could have easily stuffed those leftovers back in the freezer, customers wouldn’t want to eat frozen food, so, you decide to heat these items up to give to him instead. “Oh,” Toji answers a little dumbly. “Or you could have thrown them out.” He stares at the sumptuous meal in front of him. Even in the Zenin estate, he never had such good food laid out in front of him before and it was surreal to see a stranger do the things his family should have done for him.

You return to the counter, leaning on your forearms as you engage in light banter with him. “You’re saying I should feed rats over people?” you chuckled, sitting back down, smiling softly when Toji gingerly bringing the bowl of miso soup to his lips, the rich earthy broth warming his throat that he lets out a content sigh.

He smirks at your little remark. “I’m saying you shouldn’t make a habit of feeding strays.” He polishes his soup bowl clean within minutes and you have to remind him to slow down every now and then as you watched him eat ravenously. “You never know when you could get that dainty hand of yours bitten off.”

You blushed pink at that. He was right, being too generous could cost you dearly one day but being the altruistic soul that you are, you’ll probably continue to be graciously selfless despite the risk of being taken advantage of. It’s just how you are as a person who believes that a little kindness can make the world better than it was yesterday. “I…don’t really know about that…whether I get bitten or not by the people I help isn’t really something I can control. The world would be better off if people just learned to be kind to one another.”

Toji hums at your naive countenance, folding his arms over the table. The room is silent for a few minutes save for the occasional rumble of thunder in the distance. “You’re kinda dumb, aren’t ya?”

“And you’re a pessimist,” you answered, quirking an amused eyebrow at him. “Who doesn’t even know how to say thank you.” You stand up to clear out the table, a teasing glint in your eyes as your curious orbs collide.

Toji scoffs, leaning against his seat, crossing his legs. At his reluctance, you shake your head, giggling softly. What an infuriating interesting guy. Toji hears the rushing of tap water from behind the counter and he smiles inwardly. The rain begins to slowly stop and he takes this window of opportunity to leave.

You don’t even try to hide your disappointment when you come back to the dining room only to find it empty, the stranger having left nothing in his wake — not a goodbye, not a thank you, and certainly not his name — except a single rusty five yen coin on the table.

Clang-dong!

“Hello, welcome—“ You stop mid-sentence. Your throat constricting with a mix of emotions, the most dominant one being joy at this happy chance, you’d recognize those sharp dark green eyes anywhere despite only first seeing them a week ago. After all, they looked so dangerously beautiful under the dim light of the dining room’s ceiling lampshade. “—back. Welcome back,” you smiled brightly at Toji.

Toji nods, his hand coming up to cover his lips as he coughs once. “Thanks…ah, right — shit, where is it?” After rummaging around his parachute jacket’s many pockets, he finally takes out his wallet and you look at him, bewildered, when he hands a few hundred yen bills to you. “For last week. Sorry I couldn’t pay you back then.”

“It’s fine.” You take his larger, calloused hand and return the money which Toji responds to by stubbornly placing it on the table.

Toji pinches the bridge of his nose when you playfully return the gesture by rolling it up and placing it in his jacket pocket, buttoning it. “Look, it was real nice of you to treat me back then, but I’m not a charity case, alright? I just wanna pay my dues.”

“Then, a simple ‘thank you’ is enough.” Toji just couldn’t understand you. You have absolutely no reason to be nice to him, but you are. For a moment, he begins to fall into the enticing thought that maybe life outside the Zenin estate won’t be too bad after all if there are people like you still around just waiting at random corners to be found in joyful happenstances such as waiting out a storm at a random family-style restaurant over a heartwarming serving of miso soup with tender pieces of gyoza and cabbage.

Relenting, he smirks at you, unable to figure you out. “Thank you.”

“Anyway, need a table for lunch?” you smiled warmly at him as you lead him to the table he sat in a week ago which you now affectionately refer to as ‘his’ table instead of table number four.

Toji nods following your lead and chuckling when you hand him the menu. “Where’s that thing I had last time?“ he oddly flips through the booklet.

“Oh uh…it’s not on the menu actually, but I could make that for you if you’d like.”

“Sounds good.” Toji hands you back the menu. You are just about to scurry away to the kitchen when he calls out to you. “So, do you have a name or should I just keep referring to you as gyoza girl or something?” Embarrassed at the way your knees seem to become weak at his boyish grin, you have to take a few deep breaths before turning around to face him again. “I’m Toji.”

He doesn’t say his last name. He doesn’t feel the need to anymore now that he’s finally closing the door to his past. You nod, noting how the name suited him. It’s brief but strong, muted but loud in its rhythm. Toji. At that moment, you find it impossible to name a prettier sound. After a few excruciating minutes in the kitchen, you come back out with two bowls of miso soup this time around and you sit down on the chair directly in front of him.

“Y/N.”

Toji repeats the melody of your name in his head. “And how much do I owe ya for this, Y/N?”

You shrugged as the two of you dig in, your hand coming up to cover your mouth as you chew the steamed gyoza, joining him as he laughs (well, he’s scoffing more than actually laughing, really), his eyes alight with wonder, when you simply say, “Five yen.”

[khattikeri]

awful idea factory: shen yuan transmigrates into an orphan child character with the same name as him, who is also around binghe's age. he meets binghe and they quickly become inseparable (binghe will protect xiao yuan!), eventually joining cang qiong together.

unfortunately this accidentally sets up shen yuan for Shen Jiu Ultra Projection Mother Gothel levels of abuse. shen jiu now views luo binghe like a fucked up mix of himself and yue qi. since shen yuan has the same surname and is luo binghe's precious xiao-di, shen jiu is particularly fixated on him.

seeing these two sickening dirt poor orphaned childhood sweetheart brats reach cang qiong together? vowing to become cultivators and protect each other? man is livid. he hates both of them on principle, and he takes care to separate them wherever possible and make their lives miserable.

trying to mold shen yuan a certain way, forcing him to see his own monstrousness-- shen jiu isn't human either, so this kid shouldn't have a chance! engineering situations where shen yuan gets hurt to "prove" that luo binghe is either useless, a monster, or both, someone who'll only ever fail and hurt him... not even coping, just adding to the pain.

[wttcsms]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖࣪ hallmark holiday !!

ᝰ.ᐟ tis the season to sit by the fireplace and indulge in cheesy, cliche, ever-so-predictable hallmark movies where we know the main couple will always get their happily ever after. alternatively: a scenario post detailing the cliche holiday romance you and your fave would be ♡ྀི ( fem!reader & sfw )

starring keiji akaashi, atsumu miya, shoyo hinata, seishiro nagi, shoei barou, yoichi isagi, jinpachi ego, noel noa, rin itoshi, oliver aiku, kento nanami, naoya zenin, porco galliard, colt grice, levi ackerman

:¨ ·.· ¨: `· . haikyuu films coming to a theater near you ౨ৎ

⋆⁺₊❅. dedicated to you starring keiji akaashi synopsis keiji akaashi finally gets his dream promotion to the literature department — sort of. see, first he's given what the company calls a "trial run", where they're testing to see how well he'll do. if this book that he edits makes it to the bestseller's list within its first month of publication, he gets the position permanently. fail, and he doesn't just get demoted — he gets fired. this dream of his becomes a nightmare whenever he realizes the author they're assigning to him is you — famous literary critic turned author. well, almost an author. this will be your first book you're ever writing. see, you've got a bit of a reputation. your reviews of novels, whether they'e indie books available only on kindle unlimited or works considered to be modern classics, are nothing short of scathing. rarely is there ever a book that seems to impress you. and while your reviews are valid, a group of scorned writers (who are all beloved by the booktok community, which, in your opinion, invalidates everything they do by default) publicly challenge you: if their writing is so bad, why don't you publish a book and show them how it's done?

exclusive sneak peek! "so you're my editor?" you raise an eyebrow at the man sitting across from you. he's wearing a brown blazer, his hair neatly parted with gel, and he has such a mild-mannered aura about him that you want to groan in agony. of course, the only shmuck who'd be willing to touch your book (book is generous; you barely have half of a first draft) would be some dweeb who's probably been out of work for like, the last year. "yes. i'm keiji akaashi. we spoke over email." he reaches into his workbag, probably to hand you a business card that you'll end up tossing in the cafe's trashcan. "oh. from the tone of your emails, i was expecting someone..." you don't finish your sentence. "someone what?" he asks. "it's nothing." you wave your hand, as if to tell him that the comment was useless anyway. "listen, i'm sure i'm not your ideal client, but we don't have to keep meeting. i'll make your job easy by making sure you never have to edit or touch a single letter on my drafts. just let me handle this my own way, and i'm sure—" "no." you don't normally let people interrupt you, but the shift in his tone makes you pause. you stare at him curiously, only this time, you notice that keiji akaashi doesn't seem so mild-mannered right now. he continues. "i'm not sure where you got the bright idea that you would just write this book on your own, but you don't make a deal with a major publishing house just to go about the project like all the indie authors you criticize in your little column. the minute you signed that contract, you became my responsibility." akaashi looks you in the eyes as he tells you, "so from this point forward, your book is about to become our book. and i only plan on producing bestsellers." you smile at that, leaning forward and matching the intensity of his gaze. "good. because i only plan on writing a bestseller."

⋆⁺₊❅. make it to christmas starring atsumu miya synopsis break-ups can be tough. coming home for the holidays can be tougher. combine these two situations, and throw in the fact that no one can know about said break-up, and this might be the toughest situation to go through. here's the deal: you and atsumu, who've been together for the past four years, are deemed "most likely to get married". your friends, family, and even strangers on the internet all think you two are the couple that will make them believe in the power of love again. with this type of pressure, neither of you are willing to wreck the holiday spirit by announcing your break-up, and really, mama miya just got a particularly bad diagnosis. the last thing either of you want to do is break her heart some more. so, you both agree to pretend to still be together, all for the sake of "saving christmas", so to speak. but then, mama miya walks in on the two of you in the kitchen at the worst possible moment. atsumu is down on one knee, kneeling in front of you. finally, some good news this season: her baby boy is getting married to the love of his life.

exclusive sneak peak! "atsumu, this whole thing is a mess!" you whisper-shout at him, leaning down and examining the space beneath the floor kitchen cabinets in search of your missing earring. "well, you can't back out now!" he whisper-shouts back, crawling on all fours to help you look for the damn earrings osamu's new girlfriend gifted you. "what would we tell everybody?" "how about the truth?" "we will tell them the truth! right after christmas." "you idiot, your mom has her next appointment the day after christmas! the whole point i agreed to this was so that way we wouldn't crush her with a whole day of bad news!" "you're right." your back is turned to him, but even without looking, you know he's nodding his head. "we should just wait 'til the month's over then." "that's even worse!" now you finally do turn around, crossing your arms against your chest. "i really think this was a bad idea. we need to figure out how to come clean before this whole thing blows up in our faces." he sighs, knowing that you're right. you always are. it's what he loves — loved; he's not quite sure if he's still allowed to use the L-word concerning you — about you. then, he perks up, catching a glint of your missing earring. propping himself up on his good knee, he presents the ring to you earnestly. "oh!" you grin, happy that atsumu found the damn thing. now, osamu's girlfriend will be properly placated. before you can reach for it, three things happen in rapid succession. one: the kitchen door swings open. two: mama miya assesses the situation quickly, and lets out the biggest shriek of excitement heard 'round the world. three: this whole thing definitely just blew up in your faces.

⋆⁺₊❅. v for valentine starring shoyo hinata synopsis you hate valentine's day — after you found out your (former!) boyfriend of three years was cheating on you on this very special holiday, you see what the 14th is all about. commercialized "love": packaged in bright pink packaging and red hearts that get sold to unsuspecting fools. however, as a wedding planner, you still have to love love. it's just hard to whenever the wedding you're planning is set for feb. 14th... and it's to your ex-boyfriend and the girl he cheated on you with. you know it's petty and ridiculous and horribly immature, but you're plotting and scheming ways to ruin their wedding without it being tied directly back to you. the only obstacle in your way, though, is the bride-to-be's annoying cousin who immediately catches onto your plans and seems intent on putting a stop to you.

exclusive sneak peek! "what do you think you're doing?" you jump up, startled at the sudden intrusion. everyone else is supposed to be occupied, oohing and ahhing at bridezilla's reception dress reveal. "nothing." you say, in that tone of voice that makes it very, very obvious to anyone who can hear that you were definitely up to something. "really?" hinata asks. "because it looks like you're trying to convince the dog to tear up my cousin's high heels." busted. (you're too flustered and trying to come up with an excuse as to why there's peanut butter on his cousin's designer heels that you don't notice the way hinata looks like he's trying to hold back his laughter.)

:¨ ·.· ¨: `· . blue lock films coming to a theater near you ౨ৎ

⋆⁺₊❅. married by christmas starring seishiro nagi synopsis as the only daughter of the mikage business empire, not to mention having an older brother who could care less about the family business, you should be rightfully inheriting a good majority of mikage corp. on the day of your twenty-fifth birthday, you anticipate the metaphorical keys to your family's empire. instead, you receive the worst news of your life: reo's going to lead mikage corp starting on christmas day (a gift that he never asked for), and since you're still unmarried at the decrepit age of twenty-five, your grandparents are demanding you start going on blind dates with the men they've found for you. when you angrily confront your parents, wanting to know why everything will be handed to reo, who doesn't even want this responsibility, the answer is clear: they need a man to be the face of mikage. if you marry someone, even if you're the one pulling the strings from behind, you can still inherit the business by having your husband look like the one in control. your parents know that you don't want to get married, but what they don't know is that you're willing to do anything to get what you've worked so hard for. you didn't spend years abroad to study at the best business school in the world and to build connections all for it to go down the drain. but then you realize that all these men your grandparents found for you won't be willing to just sit back and let you do all the work. they want power of their own. where in the world could you possibly find someone you can trust to be married to in these conditions? and then it dawns on you: your older brother's best friend! from what you remember of him during high school, nagi wants nothing more in life than to just be able to make easy money and relax, left to his own devices. he's never taken advantage of reo, so he'll probably stay loyal to you. and a quick google search reveals that nagi's never even been in a public relationship. he's perfect.

exclusive sneak peek! "you bought me a ring?" you stare at the velvet box resting on your living room table, eyeing it like a bomb that might explode at any minute. "huh? oh yeah, why?" nagi's voice is cracking through the speaker of your phone. you're not sure where he is; you don't really know much about your husband-to-be, you realize. you should get him to email you his daily schedule. you plan on making note of that in your outlook calendar, after this call. "i didn't expect you to get me a ring." you frown. "forward me the invoice for it, and i will make sure to reimburse you. in the future, please refrain from making any purchases related to our relationship unless i clearly allow it and expect it. christmas in front of my family, and public birthday celebrations, for example, are occasions in which i'll allow gift-giving." "you're sayin' my future wife doesn't want gifts?" nagi wants to choke reo. he's the one who said you expected to be spoiled, and all the guys on his team seem to be adamant that buying gifts for your significant other is the way to go. if he knew you were going to start talking business around him, he wouldn't have gone through the hassle of finding a decent jeweler in this city. "this is a business partnership, nagi. not a romantic relationship. in business, you buy gifts only to bribe. are you trying to bribe me right now?" no, he thinks. he was only trying to make you happy.

⋆⁺₊❅. a king for christmas starring shoei barou synopsis serving as king but hated by a small, powerful group of witches, the ruler of the kingdom, shoei barou, is cursed and expelled to another world where his tyranny will not be tolerated. the only way to return back to his world is for him to learn benevolence and empathy. they certainly gave him a challenge; it'll be hard to be kind and empathetic whenever you're magically transported to the twenty-first century without a single clue as to how the world works. luckily, he ends up transported here, unconscious, on the front porch of a tired, overworked, graveyard shift ER nurse. you signed an oath to protect and save all lives, so you can't exactly kick the large man passed out by your front door, now can you?

exclusive sneak peek! "where is your horse?" barou asks you, following you around your house. him being your shadow is odd, considering how he towers over you so much, he's actually casting a shadow onto you. seriously, he's blocking the sunlight peeking through your blinds. "my horse? you think i'm a horse girl?" you whirl around to meet him, nearly bumping into his muscular chest as you do so. he makes a face, not sure what to make of your exclamation. "how will you travel into town?" "like everyone else. with a car." you hold up your key fob, and he immediately snatches it from your hands, staring at the fob curiously. "you travel using this?" he points to it, and you nod. "witch." he says. "what did you just call me?" you stare at him, stunned. "witch." he repeats, still holding onto your key fob. "to travel in a contraption so small... magic is the only reasonable explanation. you must be a witch. why didn't you tell me this sooner? we can use this—this car, and you can take me back to my kingdom at once!" he straightens his back, holding your key fob out of your reach. "witch, i demand you transport me back home." "i should've kicked you when i had the chance." you mutter, wondering how hard this stranger banged his head to forget what a car is.

⋆⁺₊❅. the perfect playbook starring yoichi isagi synopsis bastard munchen is forcing all of its players to dedicate their time during the holiday season to an approved community outreach initiative. isagi sees nothing better than to return to his hometown, and help volunteer to coach the local little league team that's 1) underfunded and 2) currently coached by the only person kind enough to volunteer: you, the fresh-out-of-college brand new, bubbly elementary school teacher. yoichi might not be the biggest believer in team work makes the dream work, but you don't make a bad teammate... not in the slightest.

exclusive sneak peek! "isagi," you frown as you stare at the whiteboard, trying to make sense of all the x's and o's and arrows he's scrawled on them. "you want to train this group of seven to nine year olds... to become strikers?" he nods, pleased that you're finally starting to see his vision. "yes, exactly!" "the recreational elementary-aged youth team... is going to undergo a simulation of what you went through as a high school boy?" "well, it'll be tweaked accordingly. with your guidance, of course! it'll be a more tame version, but i'm sure the results will be the same." when he smiles at you like that, you can't help but want to give in. "and besides, i'm proof that project blue lock is a very beneficial program. look how i turned out!" you think back to when you curiously searched him up on the internet. "top 10 isagi crash-outs on the field" was not the result you were expecting. but he's been nothing but kind and enthusiastic around you and the kids. it's not like he's some egotistical maniac who only cares about soccer, right? "okay." you nod slowly. "project baby blue lock it is, then."

⋆⁺₊❅. cease and assist starring jinpachi ego synopsis former collegiate athlete with a professional career ahead of you, your dreams of becoming the world's best women's soccer player gets crushed the minute you suffer the worst injury possible. now, you spend your time trapped in an office, working for the japan football association, waiting for the decades to pass you by so you can finally retire and die. until the head of the association pulls you to his office and lets you know that you're going to be going undercover; apparently, jinpachi ego is creating a soccer program that's supposedly going to change japanese soccer, and he wants you to report back to him and the jfa so they can anticipate everything ego plans on throwing at them. hired to project blue lock as ego's personal assistant, you spend practically the whole day with him. he's annoying, never listens to your advice, mansplains everything, and refuses to eat anything resembling a vegetable unless you force it down his throat. he's also the only person to match your passion for the sport, and the only one to call you out for not continuing to chase your dreams. the more time you spend by his side, the less and less you want to report to the jfa...

exclusive sneak peek! "sir," you grit your teeth, clutching onto the files in your hand because you know if your hands are unoccupied, you'd be sprinting across the room so you could personally choke jinpachi ego out. "i have an mba from the top business school in this country. i've played soccer since i was a child, and was one of the most decorated d1 players back in college. i know i'm just your assistant, but i can promise you, i am capable of far more than heating up your cup ramen." he doesn't even turn around his chair so he can face you; instead, he's still laser focused on the massive monitor in front of him, his eyes occasionally flickering to the other dozen screens surrounding the room. he doesn't even acknowledge your words. "are you seriously going to ignore me?" you snap, strangling the poor papers in your grasp. "are you done speaking? last time i tried to answer back, you yelled at me for not letting you finish." he still isn't looking at you, but you're certain he sees the nasty scowl that crosses your face. somehow, ego is capable of seeing everything. "forget it. you're impossible." "and you're a failure of a player." he tells you, right before you can storm out. "excuse me?" "you keep talking about how good you were at soccer, yet you never even bothered to pursue it after you got out of physical therapy. good in college doesn't mean anything when it's been so long. that's why i don't listen to you." he turns his chair, finally staring at you. "when you prove to me that you're still as good as you claim you used to be, maybe i'll take your advice. until then, get out of my office until i call you back."

⋆⁺₊❅. the only exception starring noel noa synopsis at thirty-three years old with not a single serious romantic relationship for the past decade or so, and with society basically treating any single woman in her thirties like a cow put out to pasture, you have come to terms with the fact that you'll be a spinster. it's fine. you have a successful career in a male-dominated field, you're still as beautiful as ever, and it's not like romantic love is going to fill the void. you have a supportive family and even more supportive friends; you don't need anything else. at thirty-five years old, with a successful soccer career and a body still performing at peak physical fitness, noel noa is considered to be one of the most eligible bachelors in the world. the public considers him to be at his prime, even. and yet, he seems to want nothing to do with romance. he plays his sport, he does a damn good job of it, and then he goes back to his isolated home in the french countryside to spend his days and nights entirely and utterly alone. for two people content to spend the rest of their lives without a partner, the minute you walk into his life as the new assistant coach for bastard munchen, you both slowly start to realize that maybe, you both could just try being alone together.

exclusive sneak peek! he doesn’t pay you any attention whenever you enter the locker room; after all, this isn’t the first time one of his teammates’ girlfriends walked in here unannounced. he can only hope that your heated rant and accusations of cheating don’t take a long time because practice starts in ten minutes, and noel noa is known to be particularly anal when it comes to sticking to a strict schedule. “hey!” igor says, being the only one bold enough to block you from taking another step further in the locker room. “you can’t be in here, even if you are dating or related to one of the players.”  “well, that’s certainly a respectable rule, but it doesn’t apply to me.”  “i'm the vice captain of this team.” he replies, letting his title to do the rest of the talking. right now, in this room, he’s the authority, second only to noel. noel, who's too busy stretching his legs to really concern himself with something as silly as a female intruder in the men's locker room. the altercation between you two is nothing more than white noise to him. “oh? that’s nice.” you hum, before adjusting the lanyard around your neck so that the little ID card, the one that’s used to allow people entrance into the gym during practice, is showing. it must be brand new because it shines underneath the fluorescents of the locker room. “i’m your new assistant coach.”  well, you’ve certainly got noel's attention now.

⋆⁺₊❅. all in starring rin itoshi synopsis even with worldwide fame, rin itoshi still prefers to be left alone. deemed the "prodigal recluse" by the media, no one knows what he gets up to during the offseason. the truth is, rin returns back to his hometown and spends his free time training by himself in the frozen field he used to train in during middle school. he's never been found out here, and that's how he likes it. until you, an ambitious sports journalist visiting your parents during the holidays, gets lost and stumbles upon him playing soccer by himself. you're convinced that this is fate. no one else in your field has ever gotten this close to him, especially outside an official game, and you're begging him for an exclusive interview. you're persistent and annoying, and rin finally agrees, with one catch: you have to score against him on a one-on-one soccer match. (he just doesn't anticipate how persistent and annoying you can be. when you set your mind on a goal, you're going all in.)

exclusive sneak peek! "you have to admit, it's pretty impressive i even kept up this long." you're panting, the palms of your hands digging into your knees as you hunch over, struggling to catch your breath. the icy air makes every exhale visible. rin looks like he hasn't even broken a sweat. "a child could've kept up for even longer." he says, the soccer ball resting underneath his right foot. "if you're this tired already, you might as well just head home and go enjoy your vacation with your family." the and leave me alone goes without saying. "why? intimidated by my shocking athletic abilities already?" you think you've finally got your breathing situation figured out, and you straighten up. "i'm going to get that interview, itoshi." "if you say so." he shoves his hands in his pockets, his own breath visible in the icy air. "i'm ready for our rematch." you tighten your ponytail, giving rin such a fixed, determined stare that it surprises him. you really are serious about this, aren't you? "and don't think about going easy on me." the corners of his mouth nearly turn upwards. he matches your gaze, preparing to shoot the ball. "i never will."

⋆⁺₊❅. meet your match starring oliver aiku synopsis tired of cleaning up his messes and struggling to reform his playboy image, oliver aiku's publicist has to break out the business card locked away in her "in case of emergency" glass case. she's calling in the calvary — you, the celebrity world's most respected matchmaker. every celebrity couple you've set up has either dated for years (and more to come) or even got their happily ever afters by saying i do at the altar. you've got a one hundred percent success rate. you're making the perfect matches left and right. hinge who? when your publicist bestie calls you, begging to help her most troublesome client finally find love and quit playing around, you already know who she's referring to. oliver aiku. he's hellbent on ruining your perfect run, and you're hellbent on finding him the love of his life so he can finally settle down and stop causing your best friend to spend her whole paycheck on migraine medicine. in his hyper-competitive field, he's never quite met someone as obnoxiously stubborn as you — nor has he ever had as much fun playing games with anyone else. it looks like the two of you have finally met your respective match.

exclusive sneak peek! "what the hell is the matter with you?" you glare at him from across the table, but oliver doesn't seem the least bit ashamed. you're not shocked; you don't think he has the capacity for shame. "what are you talking about?" he tries to sound innocent, but it doesn't work. look at him — there's nothing innocent about the man sitting across from you. "i'm talking about you bringing another woman to the date i set up for you!" you hiss, trying to remain calm and not draw attention to the two of you. he takes a long sip of his coffee, dragging out the silence as you wait for his explanation as to why he wants to make things as difficult as possible. "i was just testing her." oliver is smiling. you want to punch him in his stupid face and see if he'll still be grinning at you. probably. he's annoying like that. "during a situation like that, you can tell if the girl's gonna be a struggle to deal with depending on her reaction." "you know what my reaction would be if you did that to me?" you lean forward, and he meets you halfway, also leaning in closer. he's still smiling. you hate his stupid smile. "oh? what would your reaction be?" "nothing. you'd never even get the chance to pull that shit on me. as if i'd ever be dumb enough to go on a date with the likes of you." you lean back in your seat, opening up your phone and furiously marking off girls from your list. the list gets smaller after every one of his failed dates. oliver sits back, too, watching the way your brows furrow as you stare at your screen, not even giving him the time of day. he never stops smiling; finds it hard not to smile when he's in your presence.

:¨ ·.· ¨: `· . jujutsu kaisen films coming to a theater near you ౨ৎ

⋆⁺₊❅. the roadtrippers starring kento nanami synopsis you're traveling solo for the first time ever after your fiancé breaks things off with you to date his 19 year old neighbor. kento nanami's a single father/investment banker trying to make it back home in time for his daughter's birthday. you're both trying to travel across the country, but when a massive snowstorm delays the same flight you two were going to take home, you decide to team up and just travel together to try to make it your respective destinations on time. from weirdos on the train, flat tires on scarily cheap rental cars, and posing as a married couple at a strict, christian-owned bed&breakfast, you go from strangers traveling cross-country together to being connected together in ways neither of you have ever connected with your previous partners before.

exclusive sneak peek! "whoa, you're doing this like it's nothing." you stare in awe as nanami rolls up the sleeves to his button-down, exposing his strong forearms as he turns the wrench, loosening the lug nuts of the flat tire of the rental car. "that's because it is nothing." he tells you, glancing up at you. you're wrapped up in his blazer, but the chill of the outside air still bites at you. "you should go back inside the car and wait for me. i'll be done in a second." "it wouldn't be fair." you explain to him. "you've been doing all the work this entire trip. braving the elements with you for a few minutes is the least i can do." "you don't have to do anything." he looks up at you, his stare bringing heat back into your body. "you don't owe me. i really don't mind helping you. if you really want to do me a favor, then go back inside the car and stay warm."

⋆⁺₊❅. snowed in starring naoya zenin synopsis you've never had great luck, but with your good attitude, you don't let life get you down. good karma finally comes your way when you win an all-expenses paid trip at a luxury ski lodge. this is where your good luck ends. apparently, the ski lodge accidentally double-booked the cabin: you're supposed to be staying there... and so is the rudest, most arrogant and condescending lawyer you've ever met. naoya zenin booked this place to get away from the city and work in peace, away from the incessant nagging of his family and employees. instead, he's met with even more inconveniences, the biggest one being you, some teacher from a small town he's never heard of and couldn't care less about. before either of you can head back to the main lodge to complain, a snowstorm comes rolling in, effectively leaving the two of you snowed in together for the time being. no cell service, no internet, and no one but each other. fantastic.

exclusive sneak peek! "where are you going?" he asks, eyeing your towel and pajamas in your hand. "to go shower?" you point to the bathroom door. after claiming he wants nothing to do with you, and then setting a ground rule that you can't speak to him unless he allows it, you figured he'd just leave you to your own devices. "unless i need permission from you to do that, too." "i checked the water tank. there's barely anything, and even less hot water." "and this is my problem because...?" "i need to shower, too. i know women have a tendency to take hour-long hot showers, but that isn't going to work here." somehow, you find it hard to believe any woman would want to be close enough to naoya to where he can track their shower-time. "fine. i'll take a lukewarm shower for fifty-five minutes then." you reach for the bathroom door handle. "will that satisfy you?" he's up in a flash, his body so close to your own. you've got nowhere to go but to back up against the closed door, trying to get some space between the two of you. "you don't want to know what'll satisfy me."

:¨ ·.· ¨: `· . attack on titan films coming to a theater near you ౨ৎ

⋆⁺₊❅. falling onto you starring porco galliard synopsis when you’re forced to return to your hometown to take care of your grandmother after her hip surgery, you’re roped into volunteering for the town’s fire department charity event. paired with the constant scowling firefighter who rescued you from a tree back when you two were kids and classmates, you’re tasked with organizing the firefighter calendar auction. between awkward photo shoots, bickering over decorations, and trying to outbid a local rival for the best auction spot, you start to see that maybe porco galliard isn't all scowls and shambles arrogance — after all, he's there to catch you every time you fall.

exclusive sneak peek! "no." "it's for charity, galliard." you toss him the santa hat, not the least bit shocked that he manages to catch it without batting an eye. "you're like, morally obligated to do this. unless you want to ruin christmas. that's fine by me, too." "i won't be ruining christmas. you're just a pervert." you gasp. "i'm not the one who came up with these positions!" "you're still going to buy the calendar." he points out. "yeah, for charity! not to actually look at it!" "you sure about that? because you seem pretty damn persistent that i should take off my shirt and let you take pictures of me in nothing but suspenders, my work pants, and this ridiculous hat." "that's the most stereotypical firefighter photoshoot for a sexy christmas calendar!" he pauses. "you callin' me sexy?"

⋆⁺₊❅. the one starring colt grice synopsis colt grice has the worst luck known to man. when it comes to pay-it-forward chains, he always gets stuck in front of a minivan for a family of nine. naturally, the only people who crash into his car are the ones with no insurance. he felt bad for a coworker during a work potluck, stomached some of their disgusting food, only to end up getting food poisoning from it. the only thing colt ever seems to have good luck with is relationships... specifically, his good luck seems to transfer over to the girl he's currently dating. see, the thing is, every time colt gets dumped, his exes always end up finding the love of their lives. all his exes are happily married or in long-term relationships, with all of them finding their soulmates right after breaking up with him. he thinks no one else in the world has luck as terrible as his, but then he meets you. after a conversation exchange during a long line, you reveal that it seems like every ex you have has found their soulmate directly after breaking up with you! which is when you two hatch a plan: in order to help each other find "the one", you both agree to date each other for a period of time and then dump each other, all in the hopes of finally meeting your soulmate.

exclusive sneak peek! "your soulmate is super lucky, by the way." "what makes you say that?" colt turns to his side so he can look at you. you're still laying on your back, gazing up at the stars above. "just... i can't imagine why anyone would want to break up with you. you're honestly the best boyfriend i've ever had." colt's heart jumps at your words. he's glad it's so dark outside; otherwise, you might see the blush creeping on his cheeks. you continue on. "i'm going to be really sad when we have to breakup." he knows it's not in the agreement, but he can't help it. he thinks, then let's not. instead, he swallows hard and makes a half-hearted joke. "don't worry. you'll meet your soulmate soon, all thanks to me." you laugh, but you don't tell him how you're really hoping that he's the one for you.

⋆⁺₊❅. girls just wanna have fun! starring levi ackerman synopsis you're the prime minister's daughter wanting to get the proper college experience during your very last year of university. he's your marginally older, no-nonsense, militant bodyguard. you're determined to check things off your college girl bucket list (skip lecture, eat questionable dining hall food, go to a frat party), and he's determined to keep you safe.

exclusive sneak peek! you’ve been meticulously planning this all week. the perfect outfit is tucked under your oversized hoodie, and you’ve even plotted out the quietest route to avoid any of the creaky floorboards in your family’s massive home. all that’s left is to slip past levi, who seems to have an annoying sixth sense for every bad decision you attempt to make. sliding your shoes on, you tiptoe toward the front door, holding your breath as you slowly twist the handle. almost there. just a few more seconds, and— “you have exactly five seconds to explain what the hell you’re doing.” the deep, authoritative voice freezes you in place. slowly, you turn to find levi standing in the shadows, his arms crossed, one eyebrow raised in disapproval. the flat line of his mouth isn't forming a frown or a scowl, but the disappointment is evident. “levi,” you start innocently, trying to cover your tracks. “i was just—” “if you're just going to lie, don't bother saying anything.” he interrupts, stepping into the light. his eyes flick to your shoes and back to your guilty expression. “where are you really going?” you sigh, crossing your arms defensively. “it’s just a party, okay? everyone’s going, and i’m not some teenager who needs her parent's permission to go out at night.” “you might not need your father's permission,” he says, his voice low and deliberate, “but you do need my protection. and if you think i'm letting you sneak off to some frat house full of drunk idiots without so much as telling me, then you’re dumber than i thought.” you glare at him, your frustration bubbling over. “you’re not my dad! i can take care of myself.” he leans against the doorframe, unflinching. “if you could take care of yourself, you wouldn’t have tried sneaking out like a common criminal." “ugh,” you groan, childishly stomping your foot. “why do you always have to ruin everything?” “why do you always have to make my job harder?” he counters, his tone sharp but his eyes softening just slightly. for a moment, the two of you just stare at each other. then levi exhales, rubbing his temples as if you’ve given him the worst headache of his life. “here’s the deal,” he finally says. “you stay home tonight, and i’ll consider letting you go to the next party — with me shadowing you the whole time.” your jaw drops. “you can’t be serious.” “correct. i never plan on letting you go to one of those idiotic parties.” he says. “now go change out of that ridiculous outfit you're wearing under your sweatshirt, and get some sleep. you've got class at eight.”

[neon-sunsets]

it’s actually insane to me in retrospect that viktor got the arc he did. I need to go back and count his screen time minutes, but it’s clear that he’s up there numerically, and his story has so much weight within the narrative outside of just numbers as well.

beyond that, though, is the fact that viktor's narrative is fundamentally one about internalized ableism and the systemic structures that encourage it.

(obligatory disclaimer #1 that I have a significant mobility disability and a progressive chronic illness, but I am only one disabled person.)

imagine this: you are a child. you are disabled. the world you live in is one where you cannot afford healthcare; no one is there to teach you how to even use your cane correctly. your world is inaccessible and, worse, even the people who would normally show class solidarity with you don't, because you are not even able to do what they expect from you. characters like vi, powder, claggor, ekko, and mylo are all shown care and solidarity that viktor isn't — because they are able-bodied and therefore able to "pull their own weight."

this, at least, is an environment that can probably be overcome or mitigated by age and meeting people in your community who do care about you. this is an environment comparable to that of many, many, many disabled people who manage to thrive in a deeply unfair and ableist world.

but then you encounter a man who sees that you have talent and tells you as much. he does not ask much of you and he does not care that you are disabled. all he asks is for some help, which you give, and in return he teaches you the things he knows. what comes of this, after all is said and done and your understanding of the world has been fundamentally changed, is that you do have something you can give to your community, to the world. you have a talent which you can use to make yourself useful. you're not strong or sturdy but you can make machines, and that is always in need.

but you can't skate by on being useful like a normal child. the onus is always on you to prove that you're worth the air you breathe and the space you take up, that it's worthwhile to keep you alive. and the place to go to make yourself the most useful, where the most change can be made, is not a place you have any traditional way of accessing. you, through tenacity and grit, manage to get there anyways. (the show doesn't depict this, but any way viktor would have managed to get to the academy would have involved significant difficulty and possibly deception).

and when you get there, to that towering city of bronze, you find that nothing you do actually matters all that much.

everyone looks at you and sees your disability. everyone looks at you and sees where you're from. no matter how smart or accomplished or helpful you are, your behavior will always be, in their eyes, representative of your people. you could handle the stares, the rejection. but their judgement is dangerous to you and your people.

so, in order to survive, you must be perfect. you must project confidence or at least indifference to their cruelty. you must do as you're told and accept meager promotions and toil away as an assistant. you might be the only disabled zaunite they'll ever meet, so you have to make it count. if you fail, if they decide everyone from the undercity is lazy and useless, it's your fault.

you tell yourself you won't let them get to you. you tell yourself that you believe in your abilities.

it's a convenient narrative, and it's wholly untrue.

you, after all, are only a human being. a lifetime of the chips stacked against you is nearly impossible to overcome.

and so the image you build of yourself is that of a man far more self-confident than you, one who is quiet and reserved but proud of his accomplishments. the man you actually are, though, is one desperate for acceptance. desperate to assimilate. you chase your dreams, yes, but you can't bear to take credit, can't bear to be the face of them. you don't let yourself get close to anyone except the man you've built all of this with, who you love more than anyone else. you don't let anyone touch you (except him) and you don't touch anyone. you convince yourself you don't deserve his love or anyone's, that you're not whole enough for that.

you take it so far that, when you finally have the technology you think can cure your terminal illness, the first thing you try to fix is your leg. not the thing eating at your lungs and cutting short the time you thought you had, but the leg which has marked you as Other your entire life. and even though it doesn't quite work, even though it still causes you pain with every step, you force yourself to run on it — faster and faster until you're outrunning the ships and screaming because you may have visibly "fixed" your leg but it still hurts the same.

and when the system is not only oppressive in the material sense but also set up to make you hate yourself, there is almost no escaping this cycle of self-hatred. throw in the fact that in season 2 viktor keeps getting tossed from resurrection to resurrection against his will and it's no wonder the man did the things he did. it doesn't excuse them by any means, but arcane is not interested in excuses — it's interested in what makes people do the things they do. everything that he did to the people in the commune was a reflection of his own self-hatred, both because he still possessed it after death but also because, since he was programming the hexcore to try and save his life but started with "fixing" his leg, it is designed to make people as physically "normal" as possible. the faceless, identical machine people are a metaphorical representation of the ideology viktor has bought into in his pursuit of self-hatred and internalized ableism. his whole arc across both seasons is a demonstration and condemnation of the ways that systems of oppression reinforce self-hatred in the people they are oppressing.

obligatory disclaimer #2 that I don't think arcane did everything right. I'm frustrated with the direction of season 2 away from the piltover/zaun class conflict and towards the broader league of legends universe. but I do think, as a disabled person with a very similar experience of my disability to viktor, that this arc is well-done and very compelling. in the end, what saves the world is viktor accepting that he is deserving of being loved. I'm going to be thinking about this one for a good long while.