#i don't think blocking his number is the right way to go because he lives where i live so we will see each other

[calware]

context

guy who lives in my building keeps trying to talk to me but i don't like him (one of his friends is a nazi and when i brought it up he brushed it off) what do i do… do i just ghost him??

[lymtw]

Ex Bf Toji

Yes, you and Toji used to live together, but falling out, splitting up, breaking up, and any other phrase used to signify the separation of two lovers, typically means no contact, for however long. Toji did the moving and you stayed where you were for however long it took to feel okay with not seeing him every day.

He didn't cheat. Toji is many things, but he is not a cheater. He saw no reason to, just like he sees no reason to forget you.

He snuck three things of yours into his luggage, to really keep you with him, because you'll get them back at some point, anyway. He took one of your used shirts, an old photo of you and him, and a pair of your underwear. It'll take three days to get you back—he's sure of it. He won't give all of these things back to you in one go, nor will the three days be consecutive. He's smarter than that. They'll be spaced out as he sees fit. When you least expect it, he'll call or text you to let you know about something that he "accidentally" brought with him.

Truthfully, he felt like an old, abandoned dog, the first few weeks that he spent apart from you. He constantly checked his phone, hoping to receive messages from you. He knew it was delusional for him to expect you to text and call, yet he still waited. He moped around his motel room, unsure of what to do, because you were the one who usually planned everything. You were the one who pulled him along with you everywhere, hand in hand. He never lacked excitement or interest around you and he felt safe, but two months later, as he sits on the bed in the same room with the most unnecessary and foul patterns, there's a gross feeling in his gut. Things are too quiet and he absolutely hates it. The silence gives him headaches sometimes and he devastatingly misses your chaos in those moments. He's stuck thinking about you, alone. He doesn't even feel like leaving his room to buy beer to make him feel less or enhance his emotions—whichever comes first.

You know he got it bad for you, when he preferred to use your underwear over and over to get himself off then let some other girl touch him. A third month passed and he still longed for your touch so damn much. He felt like a horny teenager with the way he treasured the garment he stole from you and touched himself to pictures and videos on his phone. Pictures and videos of you. Dirty ones that you would send him through messages, followed by innocent hearts and winky faces, as well as his own personal collection of ones he took.

He misses your smell, your taste—god, you were everything. How could things get so bad that you ended up apart from each other? He could really use your attention right about now. You don't even need to touch him, your company would suffice.

Your voice comes through the speaker of Toji's phone, his name moaned out shamelessly loud as you cum, your phone's camera capturing the whole thing for him. His heart drops to the depths of his stomach at the sound and he ruins the fabric of your pretty, blue panties, deep moans of your name flowing freely.

Toji is just as shameless as you in that video. He swipes off the old video of you and scrolls back down to the bottom of your conversation. It's a good thing you haven't blocked his number.

Hey, I accidentally brought these with me.

[Images Attached: 1]

I'm in my room if you wanna come get them.

He's the devil for keeping his cum stain out of the picture, because had it been in there... He's not sure you would have accepted to come get your missing pair of underwear.

I'm off in 20. Room 723, right?

You got it, doll.

You hate that you know where he's staying. You hate that you don't tell him to stop calling you doll, but most of all, you hate that temptation got the better of you. This will be the second time you go see him because he has something of yours.

The first time was a month ago, and it was about a shirt. One that you didn't even know you were missing until he texted you about it getting mixed with his stuff. You didn't reply because two months into your break up still felt too soon to be in contact with him, but he called. He called and kept calling until you answered, and every time he called, your heart would start racing at the sight of his name displayed on your screen.

Your first mistake was answering. His voice made you nervous, in a first date kind of way, the way it was so calm and steady while talking. It was like he was calling on his way home to you from a job. You did your best to be mature about it, but your nervousness shone through with every 'uh...' and 'sure, that should be fine' instead of 'yes'.

When you went to go see him, your stomach swarmed with butterflies at the sight of those dark, fern-colored eyes. You were so nervous and Toji picked up on it because of how you made it your job to speed up the process of retrieving your shirt.

He invited you into his room and your second mistake was accepting his invite. You felt strange being alone with him again. Anxious? No. Uncomfortable? Not that, either. More like homesick.

Toji didn't make it any easier with the gaze he had set on you. He observed your face—your eyes, your nose, your lips. He couldn't stop himself from continuing down the path to your body. Your neck, your chest, your waist, your hips—all things he wanted to put his hands on. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears and he could feel his heart thrashing in his chest. Having you so close was a rush. His adrenaline skyrocketed every time you looked into his eyes. He couldn't focus. He felt jittery. At some point, he couldn't take it anymore. With a final stuttered breath, he reached for you, and pulled you into him for a kiss. An aggressive one, that left you breathless and conveyed just how badly he needed you.

You didn't know what was going on, but the feeling was far from unfamiliar. The feelings brought on by this spontaneous gesture, you've felt them more times than you can remember, each time so special. It's the reason for why you struggled to push him away. You struggled to maintain the boundaries that worked to prevent this very thing from happening. You were long gone the moment he put his hands on you— the moment he spun you towards his bed and laid you down. It was selfish on both ends. You were both lonely and touch deprived. It shouldn't have gone further than kissing and some over the clothes wandering of hands, but there was a clear deficit of self control, and because of it, your bodies familiarized themselves with one another, again.

You're now standing outside his door, there to pick up an old pair of underwear that you could have just asked him to throw out. You couldn't lie, part of you wanted to see him, just to make sure he's doing alright since the last time you were there. It's been a little over a month since then. Maybe he has a new girlfriend. Even if he doesn't, you don't want the situation to be misread. You're not together anymore and there's no chance of a reconciliation any time soon. It's just not meant to be, for now.

Toji opens the door and the butterflies start their fluttering in your guts all over again. You don't want to listen to them or your racing heart or the sudden throb you feel between your legs, but he's shirtless.

You clench your jaw to prevent yourself from drooling and remember that you're there for one thing only, and it's not for another fuck with your ex.

"You sure you still want them?" Toji asks, when the silence gets to be too much. He unfolds the blue material to reveal the creamy substance that litters the gusset.

"Uh... yeah, sure." You feel your face grow warm. "They'll be good again after a wash." You take them out of his hands and fold them back up before putting them in your bag.

He leans against the doorframe, eyeing you up and down. He's not being subtle, if he's even trying to be.

"I was thinking of you," he says, once again breaking the loud silence. "You know, when I got them dirty." He nods towards your bag.

"Oh. That's..." you stop mid sentence, unable to find a way to end it. "It's fine."

"Wanna come in? You hungry? Thirsty? Tired?"

"None of that. I should get going anyway. Still need to get groceries for the week." You do your best to avoid letting your eyes trail down his body and hope that he doesn't insist. It'll be so hard not to give in.

"I'm sure you have enough to last until tomorrow. One more day without a fully stocked fridge couldn't hurt."

You sigh. Why does he always have to make it so difficult to turn him down?

"A glass of water would be nice."

He hums, satisfied by your response. He takes a few steps into his room, allowing you to walk in. The second you shut the door, he's right behind you, his front flush against your back, pinning you to the door. He bombards you with his touch.

"Knew you'd come, mama. Fuck, I missed you." He's kissing your neck, pulling up your shirt to feel your soft skin beneath his rough palms.

"T-Toji, what are you doing? I'm not here for this." He ignores you and keeps kissing your skin. "We can't do this, again. Last time was..." He's stretching the collar of your shirt to expose your shoulder, where he presses more kisses. "I-It was the last time. We can't."

"We can," he counters, sliding his hand down the front of your pants and into your underwear. "I miss you, baby. Don't you miss me?" He purrs into your cheek.

A sharp gasp leaves you with a brush of his fingertips against your clit. Your hands go to the door to keep you stable.

"I'm not fucking anyone else. Are you?" He asks, watching your reactions to the languid motion of his fingers against your clit.

"Mm-mm," you hum, eyes shut as you shake your head against the door.

"Say it," he mutters, into your ear, pressing his lips against the spot beneath it. His free hand rides up your torso, going up towards your chest. It goes beneath your bra to grope at your breasts.

"Fuck, Toji... No, I'm not sleeping around."

"Yeah? That's good. I'm glad."

"You were an asshole," you say, your voice low. "I shouldn't even be l-letting you touch me." You feel like you're crumbling. You're trapped between him and the door, as well as stuck between pleasure and rationality.

"You know i'm sorry, and you're an angel for letting me touch you after so long. Don't run off so fast like you did last time." His lips go back to devouring the skin of your neck, littering it with marks that will make you think of this moment when you look in a mirror.

"F-Fuck, i'm gonna cum. Gonna-"

Your legs go wobbly and you press your hands more firmly against the door to try and hold yourself up. Toji's arm tightens around you, supporting you as he works you through the intensity of your orgasm. Your whimpers and moans are heaven sent. So sweet and entirely dedicated to him.

"Come on," he mumbles, pulling you up straight, onto your unsteady legs. He turns you around so that he can hoist you up by the backs of your thighs, and as if on instinct, you wrap around him. Your arms are wrapped around his neck, your legs around his waist. It's so strange to feel his warm, bare skin against you, again. Your face is buried into the crook of his neck, like when he would pick your sleeping body up from the couch and carry you to bed.

He sets you down and pulls your shoes off, throwing them somewhere in the room, carelessly. With impatient breaths, he's back on you again, kissing you, and feeling up the body he grew accustomed to holding, but was now deprived of.

"Fuck." He pauses. "Take it all off, baby." He presses chaste kisses onto your lips as he pushes your shirt up, further directing you to undress yourself.

You feel ridiculous for having followed his directions so unquestioningly, but there you are, naked for his eyes, hands, and mouth.

"What are you doing?" Toji asks, confused at the sight of you on your stomach, your face buried in the pillow.

You turn your head to the side, to not muffle your words. "I don't wanna look at you."

"Why's that?" He traces your spine with his fingers, lidded eyes following the invisible trail. "Don't tell me you're still feeling guilty over last time."

You shake your head, wordlessly. You have nothing simple and quick to respond with.

"I wanna look at your pretty face."

You shake your head, again, and he knows he's going to have to melt away your stubbornness. You're not like this. You know he doesn't fuck you like this, ever. It's the first unfamiliar thing to occur since you started talking and since you agreed to meet up and it doesn't sit well with him.

His hands start at your hips and ride up your waist, merging onto your back, going up towards your shoulder blades. He knows of your weakness for when he says things straight into your ear. He has confirmation of this from just a couple minutes ago, when he had you against the door. It brings out a range of emotions from you, but ultimately, it gets you to mellow down a little.

"Let me love on you properly, mama," he starts. Your heart races at the feeling of his breath against your ear. You're throbbing with every deep-voiced mumble and his weight on you again. "Wanna take care of you, pretty girl. Must be so tired after a long day, huh?"

You sigh, releasing some of the built up tension in your body and nod.

"Yeah... I know, doll. Let me make it better."

Just like old times. You miss those days when your schedules aligned and you got to meet at home once you both finished work. It was always a race to see who got there first, but there was never an actual winner when the first thing you would do was shower together. Toji went in before you every time to rinse off the nastier splotches that littered his skin and you joined in on his mark. All the weariness and tension melted away when the water ran down your bodies. These were moments where you were so in love with him. Time slowed down through pressurized squeezes of his rough hands on your weary, smaller muscles, and your softer hands on his more defined and prominent, yet, still aching ones. There were also those delirious, casual conversations that bounced between being so tired that you could sleep together through the rest of the day, but also being so hungry that you could eat a family pack dinner, together in one sitting.

That is why you don't want to look at him. All those memories will come back, again, at the sight of his handsome face. You miss him, too. Your love for him hasn't been completely disposed of, but there's a reason for why you're in his room and not your shared home. Your schedules were unaligned for too long. You barely ever saw each other. You only saw him for brief periods of time in the morning and at night and your days off didn't coincide with his. Date nights became a rarity. Maybe once every couple weeks, you would go out to a place with a peaceful and quiet atmosphere, so that you could get a few hours to remember that you still love each other. Suddenly, he has spare time and it's so hard to deny him when he wants to spend it with you.

"Baby, please," he says, following his words with a kiss to your temple. You let out a deep breath and take a second before you start wiggling under his weight. He scoots off of you and allows you to do what you need to do. Once you're on your back, he wastes no time crawling onto you, again, to begin his worshipping of you.

That warm feeling you used to get around him is slowly seeping back in with every kiss he plants on your face and your neck. The way his hands smoothly glide over your body strangely makes you think of more aggressive times, when he would be so impatient, handling you so swiftly, just wanting to mold his body into yours. The scratches and crescent indentations his blunt nails would leave on your skin from the intensity of it all—you can't forget them.

He nears your soft, warm, blank chest. It's not like he didn't trust your word, but now he has visual evidence of how you weren't lying about not sleeping around. If things hadn't fallen apart between you and him, your chest would be littered with his fading marks on it. You're long due for a round of semi-permanent kisses.

His lips mouth at your chest, wet kisses being spread all over it. You instinctively let one of your hands come up to the back of his head, your fingers coursing through the dark locks of hair. He tries not to react so desperately to the feeling, but your touch is addicting. He doesn't want you to stop. No one has touched him like this since you and it really shows. Between the endless contact of his lips on your skin, layered with soft sighs and the constant caressing of your body, you can tell he's just grateful for being able to have you like this, again.

"You miss my chest?" You ask, acknowledging the amount of time he's spent on the area. He's been leaving marks left and right, between your breasts, on them and beneath them, too.

"All of you, not just your chest," Toji responds, before latching his lips onto one of your nipples. Your other one is handled by his fingers until he gives it a turn in his mouth, his fingers going to the one he just released. He loves being able to feel how your chest puffs and dips with every breath, and how it stutters with the swirling of his tongue over your buds.

"Toji," you call, breathily. Your hand lowers to the nape of his neck, meeting the tips of his hair that graze it.

He releases your breast with a quiet pop, pressing one more kiss to the glistening peak before tending to your call of his name.

"I know, doll. Feeling sensitive?" You nod, in response and he cracks a grin. "It has been a while... and I don't blame you, but you don't answer the phone enough." His kisses start, again, down your body—starting between your breasts and traveling down your abdomen. His lips paint your stomach, unintentional heart resembling marks formed through short-lived stinging sensations. "Can't do this for you if you don't pick up the phone. Just for a few minutes," he purrs, kissing above your navel. His hands cup around your hips, his thumbs massaging the area while he trails his mouth even lower down your body. "And if you don't wanna hear my voice, just answer my messages, mama. It's so fucking simple to get me next to you."

You shudder when his breath fans over your pelvis. Goosebumps rise over your skin all over again and your heart drops when green, lust filled eyes hold your gaze, pinning you down. You squirm beneath his unwavering attention, losing the eye contact battle when his hand goes to your thigh. You see the faintest sign of a smug grin once his eyes refocus on your body.

"How'd you get this gnarly bruise?" He asks, lightly running his fingers over a purplish yellow splotch on the lower part of your outer thigh.

"I ran into the corner of a table. I was in a rush."

He hums, disapproving of your reason, but nonetheless leans forward to kiss it. It brings him back to when he would walk into a room right on time to catch you groaning in pain and flipping off the coffee table while muttering curses, after ramming your knee into the corner of it, or when you would open your mouth in a silent scream after knocking your elbow into something and hitting your funny bone. He really considered putting guards on all the corners in the house, because of the constant bruises he found on your pretty skin.

"You gotta be more careful, doll," he says, kissing the blemish once more before continuing up towards your inner thighs. "Can't have you wearing this pretty body down with so many bumps." His breath grazes the space between your thighs, again. His attention goes from your glistening cunt, to your unsteady chest, before landing on that needy expression on your face that makes his cock twitch.

"You look so pretty." He drags his fingertips through the wetness of your slit, watching the adorable way your stomach quivers at the contact. "So wet over the way I kiss you up," he says, hypnotized by the way your slick connects his fingers to you with every up and down gliding motion. "You're precious, ma. Look at that... You're drooling so much, already." He drags a knuckle through your slit.

"F-Fuck." You shudder beneath his teasing touch. "Please. Toji-" you cut yourself off with a moan when his mouth attaches itself to your throbbing clit and his middle finger slowly sinks into your slick hole. Your thighs twitch in Toji's hold, the pleasure intense with all the fresh stimulation offered by him.

"Sweet as ever," he murmurs, pulling his finger out of your now twitching hole, to suck your juices off. He watches your face contort as two fingers stretch you out, now. Whimpers and moans are released with every curl of his fingers and with his tongue going back to your clit, you can't help all the squirming you're doing. Toji knows your body as well as he knows his own. Those hips rolling against the mattress and your back arching is a sign of your quickly approaching release. The fact that it's happening so fast is endearing to him. You really haven't been touched in a while and he loves being the only one you've allowed to replenish your level of physical intimacy.

You don't even warn him when you cum. Your notice is a sharp gasp, followed by the sweetest moans he's ever heard. Your overload of wetness coated his fingers and dripped onto his palm. Toji watched through dark, lidded eyes, as your chest heaved and your brows pinched with pleasure. Your bitten up lips parted to release heavy breaths and whines of satisfaction. He stopped before the overstimulation could make its way to you, pulling his cum coated fingers out of you and lifting his mouth from your clit.

While he did enjoy being a little mean and overstimulating you back when you were a couple, he knew this was not a moment for that. He said he was going to love on you and he planned to follow through with that.

"Fuck." You sigh, extending your arms above your head, before stretching your body. You groan as your chest rises and your back arches before releasing the tension, a giggle homing into Toji's ears once you settle again. Within seconds, he's face to face with you again, his body invading the vacant space between your legs. His hands go to your wrists, crossing them above your head.

"What are you giggling about?" His nose is centimeters from bumping into yours.

You giggle even more at his proximity and the sly smirk that plays on his lips. "Mm... just came all over your fingers within like two minutes," you mumble.

"You did, huh?" He says, squeezing your wrists affectionately.

"Mhm," you hum.

"That still doesn't break the record," he adds.

"No... It doesn't." You say, through a laugh.

A tension-riddled silence follows, longing looks exchanged during the stillness of the moment. Toji uses his control to lean forward the rest of the way to kiss you. The kiss is soft and slow, despite the way he keeps your wrists pinned, a visual that shows your surrender to him.

He hums against your lips, breaking the lip lock with a quiet smack. "Can I put it in?" He asks, leaning back to see your response.

"Yeah, okay," you say, blushing, but nodding to double confirm.

He releases you so he can remove his boxers and finally release his aching cock from its confines. He's been hard this entire time, but your needs were put ahead of his because, like the last time, he initiated this.

Toji sighs, feeling his cock throb and twitch at the thought of being in your incomparably soft and warm walls, in just a few seconds. As he drags his tip along your slit, he can't help but think about how this would be the first time he has sex since you last let him touch you, a month ago. He might cum as quickly as you did, maybe even quicker.

He keeps a hand on your stomach, rubbing as an act of comfort, as his other hand guides his tip into your hole. He pushes in, keeping his focus on you as he slowly feeds his length into you.

"Fuck, doll. Doing so well. Almost there."

You never get used to the initial stretch. It's not unbearable and you know it's worth it, so you deal with the short amount of discomfort.

"Oh fuck, it's in," he says, mentally relieved that he didn't cum early. You both let out sighs.

After a couple minutes of getting comfortable and picking up a gentle pace, things were good. Quiet sounds of pleasure took over the room. This time isn't as aggressive as the time before. Last time, things happened in a flash. One moment you were just talking, the next you were being fucked incoherent, and before you knew it, you were getting dressed and leaving Toji's room with the most guilty feelings.

This wasn't that, at all. He wasn't slamming his hips into yours or pinching your waist between his hands. His thrusts were paced, like he wanted this to last a while, and he touched you with the gentleness of someone who, wholeheartedly, isn't over you. Someone who still holds an immense amount of love for you.

You're not faring any better, than him. You find yourself wanting to bring him closer. You truly want him all over you. The second you extend your arms towards Toji, he's leaning closer towards you so you can touch him. Your hands make contact with his shoulders and he gets immediate goosebumps. He's working to suppress the groan that's paired with the chills that run down his spine, when he looks at you from this proximity. You let your hands glide up to the nape of his neck and you pull him into you for a kiss. Your cunt flutters around him when his lips move against yours in synchrony, his hips continuing their languid pace. His kisses always leave you breathless, so you end up having to be the first to bail, when you can't compete with his lung capacity. He continues kissing your face, groans released into your cheek and jaw, while you gasp and whimper over his gentle precision.

"T-Toji... Toji- Fuck."

He hums into your neck, his lips brushing against it immediately after. "Miss you... so... fucking much," he pants. "Please..." his voice lowers, and his lips move towards your ear. "Please, baby."

His arms cage you in and you feel smothered by him, like you're drowning in him. He's all you know in this moment. His body, his voice, his touch, his smell. All you can do is feel as he thrusts into you, repeatedly reaching that part within you that renders you the most perfectly behaved angel for him. He can feel the way your chest jolts with every hitch of your breath. He can hear your stifled hiccups up close, as he murmurs needy words into your ear.

"You..." he pants, a subtle groan caught by your ears. "You heard me, right, pretty girl?" He presses a kiss to your earlobe, awaiting your response. You nod, a sultry hum being the only sound you manage to let out. You clench around him, briefly, but long enough for his hips to stutter. "Fuck..." he sighs, burying his face into your neck, again. His hips pick up their pace a little, luring a sharp gasp and a moan out of you. "I-I need you back with me. Miss you lots," he says, muffled by the delicate skin he nibbles on.

"I-I know. I know, Toji. You're not the only one."

"So fucking come back to me, already. What are you doing?"

"Gonna cum. I'm gonna cum," you blurt, writhing beneath him.

"Keep squeezing me like that and you're gonna make me cum," he grunts.

"T-Toji, please," you whimper, the sensation of your nearing orgasm growing stronger. "Toji," you cry out once more, before your wetness gushes out, coating his unrelenting cock.

"Shit," he hisses. He barely has time to watch you when he's on the verge of spewing into you with every clench of your velvety walls. A few seconds pass, and with stuttering hips, a tensed abdomen, and gritted out, breathy curses, he fills you up with his cum. Ragged breaths are released into the air, his chest rapidly rising and falling with every inhale and exhale. He pulls away from you, his eyes glued to you as you work on recomposing yourself.

You're lucent in his eyes. The layer of sweat that coats your neck brings attention to the harsh marks he left on your previously untraced skin. The prettiest blush remains on your face, and those slightly parted lips look so appetizing. The sight is hauntingly beautiful.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," you tease, feeling him still silently watching you.

He snickers. "You're gonna let me take a picture of you like this?"

"Nope. I was kidding," you say, smiling as you sit up. Toji catches you eyeing your pile of clothes and speaks up before you start reaching for it.

"Can you not get dressed, yet? Stay a little while, yeah?"

Your heart drops at the question. You tell yourself over and over that you won't be spending the night with him, in an attempt to convince yourself that after the worst that can be done with an ex has already been done, this is nothing to worry about. What's another hour spent lying next to him in his bed?

You thought that's all you would be doing together, but then you ended up showering together. His attempt to help you get cleaned up made you crave another round, which he happily indulged in. After that was when you finally lied in bed together and you really didn't want to leave by the end of it all. It was already nighttime and you had gotten so comfortable, almost forgetting that you weren't home with him. Everything smelled like Toji, even you. He kept you in his arms as you discussed the future of things between you two. A weight was lifted off his shoulders when you implied that there's still a chance.

You did decide to drive home that night and when you got there, you sat in your car, just thinking about what happened, for way too long.

The third and final day came some weeks later. You got better at responding to Toji's messages and his phone calls. Things seemed like they were rekindling between you two.

Hey, can you come see me today?

I'm not in the mood for sex, if that's what you want me there for.

You know that's not the only reason I want you. Come over.

I won't touch you if you don't want me to.

Say something.

Respond.

Oh so you don't want me to get there safe? I'm. DRIVING.

Fuck, doll. Scaring me for nothing. Drive safe.

On the drive to his room, you thought about the conversations you've had with Toji on the phone, these past weeks. Some were short and straight to the point, while others didn't allow you to put your phone down for more than three minutes. His indirectness was usually the cause of longer conversations. He didn't want to seem overbearing, so instead of saying he missed you, he would ask if you had eaten. Instead of saying he missed spending leisurely time with you, he would let you know that that one cheesy movie you like is playing on one of the TV channels.

It was sweet until nighttime came and the messages started straying from innocent longing. Conversations where he was telling you about how much he missed sleeping next to you, turned into him saying that he couldn't sleep because he wasn't holding your chest and smelling your hair. Minutes later when your phone rang, you panicked. You wanted to hear his voice, but you knew better than to try and hold an innocent conversation with him when the messages that preceded the call weren't innocent. You let the phone ring for a few seconds, but the second you heard him, you felt so many things. His voice was so deep and he sounded tired and your heart was beating way too fast. You were feeling things that contradicted everything that made you hesitant to answer his call. With every word he spoke, your mind flooded with sinful thoughts that made the space between your legs viciously throb. Maybe you were glad he was feeling this way from the start, because his voice, his words, and the sounds he made alike, all ended up getting you there.

Muscle memory got you to Toji. You were zoned out the entire time, remembering those texts between you and him, that had you giggling to yourself like when you first started dating. You were in shock when you turned into the parking lot, realizing that your mind was so occupied with Toji, that the drive seemed shorter. You walked right up to the door with the, now familiar, bold 723 on it. A few seconds went by before the door opened. Toji held the door open for you shutting it when you made it into his room.

The first thing you noticed was that he had tidied up quite a bit. It almost seemed like he had just arrived to the room, no clothes on the floor or empty food containers on the counters, but his bed wasn't made and his drawers had unfolded clothes hanging out of them. He's been like this since you lived together. It's just a habit that refuses to die.

"You made a copy of this photo?" You ask, picking up the picture frame that rests on his nightstand. You both looked annoyed in the picture. The photographer kept pestering you to get your picture taken on your date and you had politely declined so many times, but he kept insisting, so you and Toji decided to just get it over with. The photographer said 'smile', and he laughed nervously when you both kept a straight face. He gave up and snapped the picture like that.

"Nah, that's the original. It followed me here, like your clothes."

You snicker, eyes still focused on the way Toji put his arm around you in the picture. "Clothes seem a little more reasonable to haul along by accident, but this was in a box I keep hidden on the top shelf of the closet."

"It's not really hidden if I found it so easily."

"People who don't snoop around wouldn't find it as quickly."

His hands go to his pockets. The urge he feels to hug you from behind to look at the picture with you, is heavy. "It's not snooping if we used to share the closet. When I was packing my stuff, I tried not to leave anything behind, so of course I was gonna check every crevice of the house."

You put the picture down and turned to look at him.

"That was pretty selfish of you. Taking my things, but not leaving a scrap of yours behind."

"Yeah? That was selfish of me?" He grins. "You wanted me to leave something behind?"

"At least a button or... I don't know, one of your sweaters."

"A button or a sweater." He hums like he's in thought. "That's a big jump, doll." He sits down on the edge of his bed with a sigh, a small lump of his blanket flattened by his weight.

"We made a big jump, Toji. One minute we were doing stupid shit like that." Your hand aims towards the picture of you and him. "The next..." you take a deep breath and your brows pinch slightly. You don't want to get emotional. Just thinking about crying in front of him makes you anxious.

His eyes soften, slightly. The mood has shifted and you're tense. It's not how he thought this would go, but he's going to try and make it better anyway. This is it. You have to reconcile by the end of the day.

He pats the spot next to him on the bed, successfully bringing you closer, even if you were off from where he wanted you.

"What we did was hard," you start, again. "You think I didn't miss you as soon as you left home? Or that I was living happily without you, when I didn't answer your messages or calls?" You shake your head. You're trying to hold back your more distracting emotions, but your eyes are starting to feel watery. "No. My head hurt for so long, I didn't want to see anybody, and the worst part was that I couldn't stop thinking of you. It was the epitome of a crushing break up... and I needed you, but I wasn't sure if you would be around. It's what tore us apart in the first place."

Silence fills the room. You feel dumb for spilling your heart out like that. You fold your hands in your lap and hope Toji has something to say in response to your word vomit. Anything, at this point, to slaughter the increasingly, discomforting stillness in the room that is making you want to cry even more.

"I didn't know you missed me, 'til you started meeting me here." He turns his head to look at you. You're still looking down at your lap, fidgeting with your folded hands.

"Yeah, that's not something you say to someone who just became your ex. It would have made things harder on us."

There's another gap of silence while Toji calculates his words. Watching you continue your anxious mannerisms always made him nervous before. It's no different now.

"What if I said I have time for you, now?" He keeps his eyes on you, hoping to see a glint of light in your expression. "Things can go back to the way they were before."

"That sounds good and all, but will things stay that way when we start getting comfortable again? Say... a month from now?" He immediately nods in response. "How about three months from now? My days off are always gonna be the same, and yours-"

"I'll mute Shiu on your days off. No jobs on those days."

You look at him, unfolding your hands. You're not as nervous anymore, now that the talking is back and forth. "You always make exceptions. You've done it before, Toji, and I just don't want to feel second to your work, again. It's the only thing I kept myself out of when it came to you, because I know how... abnormal it is, and look where that got us."

"Listen, i'm serious about making time for you. I've been doing pretty good so far, don't you think?"

He has been. Otherwise you'd be spending your day off cleaning your place and figuring out what to make for your dinner for one. You were off the day before, too, and he called you halfway through the day, on his way back to his room.

"Yeah. I guess you are doing a lot better," you admit.

"Good enough to give it another go?"

You're the one who goes quiet this time, uncertainty coursing through your mind. You really want things to work, but it's scary. Words and these little check ins are all you can go off of, for now. You don't know how it'll be if you officially get back together.

You nod. "I think so. It's been a few months, now. Things do seem better."

He slowly released the breath he held in after asking the question. "Really? You mean that?"

"I do." You give him a soft smile that he feels he hasn't seen in so long. He can feel his heart accelerating, like a kid being returned their favorite toy after being grounded.

"Can you show me you mean it?"

"How?"

"You're sitting so far from me. Come closer," he says, patting his thigh.

"What?" You laugh. He has to be joking. You're literally two feet away from him.

"Come on. Sit with me."

He doesn't seem to be letting go of this, so you scoot even closer to him. With the assistance of his hands on your hips, he uses them as leverage to lift you onto his lap, to bring you as close to him as he can. He looks you straight in the eyes, his green ones so brilliant and warm, you would think he's about to profess his love for you for the first time.

"You got me. What is it, Toji?" You're blushing due to the gesture, a reaction that makes him feel warm and fuzzy inside.

In one swift movement, his face is buried in your chest, his bulky arms lowered to wrap around your waist. Your eyes slightly widen at the spontaneity of the gesture, instantly softening when he starts talking.

"I felt like I was going insane, mama. I didn't wanna go." He pauses, the warm scent of your perfume working to calm him down. The back of your shirt is tightly wound around his hands. You can feel cool air against the slivers of exposed skin—a contrast to the warmth of his breath on your chest—but you hold him close. "Let me come home or stay here, just don't stray from me."

The mood shifted, again. He felt small and vulnerable, but he needed you to understand that he had feelings about leaving, too. Had things gone the way he planned them in his head, he wouldn't be uttering his sentiments into your chest. You would be watching a movie together, while cuddling and kissing, and overall, making up for the deep affection that was missed during this period of separation, but you have a strange way of making him want to be entirely honest with you.

You cover him up while he clears his mind. This is between you and him. Nothing else matters when it's Toji rambling on about how you've ruined solitary life for him. He can't do it anymore and you're entirely to blame, because you put him on to your hugs and kisses, and you tell him all the things he needs to hear and sleeping is entirely possible with you. He's addicted to you, and it's not hurting anyone, so he can't find a reason to give you up.

You sat in that position for a few minutes. Silence returned, but instead of it being awkward and uncomfortable, it was entirely welcomed. Toji was so comfortable. He could have fallen asleep like that, but you shifted in his lap and pulled him out of his idle state. He was entirely at ease when he lifted his gaze to look at you. Your expression was gentle on his eyes, unspoken forgiveness so clear.

"Come home, tomorrow. No, today. I was thinking about how you're not packed and you still have things scattered. I can help you get it all-"

He cuts off your rambling with a kiss, then another, and then one more. "Nah, i'll come back for my things, tomorrow. I just wanna go home with you, ma."

[nativegirltapes]

pairing: toxic!rafe x sweetheart!reader

you and rafe always took 'breaks', but they never lasted. when he asked you to meet him in the middle of the night you could never say no.

you and rafe had been on your longest break yet, going on 3 weeks. and you couldn't lie, you'd been doing really good without him. but you missed him, a lot.

you didn't know why you missed him so much, it was almost like a drug you just couldn't live without despite knowing you're better off without it.

2AM, sitting in your room, music blasting through your earbuds, paging through your favorite clothing catalog; you felt your phone vibrate right next to you. thinking it was pope; the cute pogue you had recently befriended and been texting, you had a slight smile on your face.

that smile faded when you realized it was indeed not pope, but rafe. of course from some random number because you blocked him on his own.

252-###-### - It's me. Can we talk? Meet at tanneyhill in 15? PLS. I love you.

you sighed, partly of self disappointment because you knew you were going to do exactly what he wanted. but also partly from relief, this being you and rafe's longest break, you wondered what had been keeping him so busy from trying to reach out to you. on previous breaks he'd be begging to see you a few days in.

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ 🍰 . .

rafe was sat on the front steps of tanneyhill, he looked stressed and upset, but really when wasn't he?

"hey," you said softly, standing in front of him, not wanting to get too close.

"hey." he looked up at you. "thanks for coming."

"yeah." your voice was full of shame. it was embarrassing how you couldn't say no to rafe. you liked to rationalize your embarrassment by convincing yourself that you were doing this for him, that he needed you and how could you say no to someone who needed you? but no, you knew deep down your relationship with rafe was self-inflicted and self indulgent. if you tried hard enough you could say no, but the thing was that you just really didn't want to. and that was the most embarrassing part.

you liked getting treated like you were everything one day, and nothing the next. the feelings rafe made you feel were ones close enough to addiction. the highs were so high, but the lows were low.

rafe patted his lap, signaling for you to come take a seat on his lap. of course you did. "i missed you," rafe placed his hand on your inner thigh.

"missed you too rafe." you were basically now bridal style in his lap, ass on one of his thighs, your legs propped up on the other, and your ams wrapped around his neck. you missed being held like this.

"yeah? how much you miss me?" he had a smirk on his face while looking at you. god he looked so good. you hated how good he always looked.

"i dont know," you giggled softly, "a lot."

"heard you been talking to that pogue," rafe looked into the distance, you could tell he was trying his best to remain calm. "what's his name? pope."

you were confused as to how he would even know that, but to be honest it was probably best you didn't know. "just texting." you immediately defend yourself. "just friendly."

"friendly huh?" rafe scoffs. "do y'know how many guys would love to be 'just friendly' with you?"

"really rafe?" you dropped your legs from his lap. only rafe would invite you over to resolve things just to start another argument.

just as you were about to get up from his lap, he pulled you back down onto it. "cmon don't leave now," rafe moved your hair to the side, leaving the side of your neck that was closest to him on full display. "was just teasin'." his hot breath on your neck sent shivers down your spine.

“i don’t want to be teased.” you sighed under your breath.

“what do you want?”

“i want you to love me.” a singular tear fell down your face, rafe immediately wiping it.

“i do love you,” rafe’s voice was soft in a way you’d never heard before. “i love you more than,” you could tell he was really trying to pick his next words wisely. “i love you more than everything.” rafe kissed you on the cheek, his wet lips colliding with your wet tears.

and maybe that was also half the reason you couldn’t leave rafe. you knew that deep down aside from all the bad things he’s done to you; he has real love in his heart, he just doesn’t know how to show it.

[jaeeyaaasworld]

Single Mother Next Door - CL16

Featuring: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Warnings: reader is a single mother, mention of an awful ex, reader was in an abusive relationship, Charles is literally so sweet that it makes my own teeth rot, GLASSES CHARLES (of course it's a warning)

Requested: Yes/No

"OH MY GOD, LANDO"

Charles yelled without even realizing, his headphones blocking even his own voice.

it was one in the morning and his loud laugh was resonating in the whole apartment.

what he didn't know was that, on the other side of his wall, there was a little eleven months old baby trying to sleep, with little success because of his loud yells.

the baby started crying right on the spot, making his mom run to him from the kitchen, where she was still cleaning.

"oh I know, baby"

you whispered, picking your baby up and trying to calm him down as possible, but as soon as the kid seemed to close his eyes for a little longer another yell came from the apartment next to yours.

you couldn't take it anymore, you had to do your stuff and quickly go to sleep to at least have a few hours of sleep before you had to get up and get your baby in daycare to go to work.

so, with the baby in your arms, you walked out of your apartment and knocked on your neighbor's door a few times.

Charles was turning off his stream and taking his headphones off when he heard someone knocking on his door, making him frown his eyebrows.

he looked at the time and it was 1 AM, who could be knocking on his door at 1 AM?

Charles got up from his seat and walked out of the room to go answer the door.

as soon as he opened the door he was met with a pretty young woman with a toddler in her arms, she was almost panicking as the baby in her arms was crying while hugging her neck tightly.

"hi, I'm the girl that lives next door. I'm really, really sorry to spoil your fun, but my toddler can't sleep and he keeps crying so can I ask you to, please, maybe, keep your voice slightly lower?"

you started rambling, rocking up and down with the baby in your arms to try and soothe him to sleep.

Charles slightly widened his eyes at the sight, gulping the lump that had formed in his throat.

"yeah, of course. I'm really sorry, I didn't know you had a toddler, I never heard him cry so..."

he started, as the toddler got up from your shoulder as he heard Charles' new voice.

his eyes were a bit puffy and his nose was a bit red from crying, he was watching Charles couriosly, making Charles smile at him while bending down slightly to see eye to eye with the sleepy toddler.

"hi, baby. I'm really sorry if I woke you up, I promise I will try to keep it down in the future for you and your momma"

Charles smiled at the toddler, making you smile at the interaction between the two.

"well, I'm sorry if I bothered you. I'm gonna go back to my apartment, see you around maybe..."

you said in an interrogative way.

"oh- Charles, nice to meet you"

he said with a smile.

"I'm Y/n, nice to meet you as well. oh- and thank you for understanding"

you replied with the same smile.

a smile that made Charles realize actually how beautiful you were.

you were tired, slight bags under your eyes as your tired smile stretched yours lips.

"i-it's nothing, really"

he stuttered out a bit and his cheeks turned slightly red as you entered back into your apartment, your toddler collapsing back on your shoulder as he tried to sleep again.

Charles closed his apartment door behind his back, his eyes still widened as he scrambled to search for his phone and dialing Lando's phone number.

Lando was the closest one to him, as he lived in the same apartment building in Monaco just two floors above him.

"what is it? we just got off the stream, Charles"

his friend asked, as soon as he picked up the call.

"is there a chance that you know a mother that lives in this building?"

Charles whispered to his phone, he now knew that his walls were thin as paper.

"I don- I don't think there's a mother in our apartment building, at least in my floor"

he said, thinking about the people that he saw enter or exit the hall while he was in there for any reason, but then he frowned his eyebrows.

"why are you whispering, mate?"

Lando asked his friend, confused on why his friend would whisper like that while he should be alone in his house.

"well, my walls are thin as shit and my neighbor can hear basically everything I say"

Charles whispered again, making Lando burst out laughing at his comment.

"are you serious, mate?"

he asked, still laughing as hard as Charles as ever heard and making the man sigh as he closed his eyes and started rubbing his fingers on his closed eyelids.

"yes, she is a mother and I've been keeping her toddler awake the whole night"

Charles said, making Lando laugh even harder at him and his situation.

"oh my god, mate. I would never want to be in your shoes. did she lash out at you or did she send her husband for you?"

Lando asked Charles, still giggling.

"no, actually she came to my door really calmly and asked politely if I could keep my voice down a bit"

Charles told his friend, throwing his own body on the couch while still keeping his phone to his ear to still hear his friend talk.

"and how was she? hot?"

asked Lando.

"Lando, you only think about this stuff... yeah, she's hot"

he whispered back to his friend and getting another laugh in return, but this time Lando's laugh made Charles smile and let out a small chuckle.

"go to sleep now, mate"

Lando said, a big yawn came from his side of his phonecall, which made Charles yawn with him.

"yeah, I better go to sleep now. goodnight, Lando"

Charles greeted, getting an hum from Lando as he hung up the phone, and he got up from his place on the couch to walk into his bedroom to get dressed in his pyjamas and go to sleep.

a toddler's cry could be heard from the other side of the wall, making him stop in his track and look towards the wall where the cry was coming from.

he knew it wasn't his fault this time, but he couldn't help but feel guilty for waking him up the first time.

so he felt in the right and a little in dept to try and make the baby calm down as soon as possible so that you could go to sleep and finally get the rest you needed.

Charles walked towards the piano in his apartment, sitting in the little seat that was in front of the black and white tiles.

he placed his hands on the tiles delicately and started playing one of his songs slowly and lowly, he was sure that the sound of the music could be heard from the other side of the wall, reaching his neighbor's apartment.

Charles slowly stopped hearing the sound of the toddler's cry, a smile showing up on his face as he kept playing softly for your kid.

after a few minutes he stopped playing, the sound of silence was so good, and just the thought that he was able to make your toddler stop crying fumbled with his heart.

he reluctantly got up from the seat and walked back to his bedroom, laying on his bed with his arm under his head, staring at his ceiling and still thinking about you and your cute little baby.

time skip: a week later

"mate- how is it going with the neighbor?"

Lando asked Charles as they walked into the hall of their apartment building, going towards the elevator while taking their home keys out of their pockets.

"I didn't see her since that day, but that night her kid started crying again and I played the piano for him"

Charles replied, pressing his floor button on the little plate in the elevator, and Lando gasped lightly at what he said.

"and it worked?"

he asked as the elevator doors closed with them inside.

"of course it worked, what did you think?"

Charles chuckled.

"I did it a couple times and he always calms down really quickly"

he said as the elevator dinged and the doors opened to Charles' floor, and as soon as the doors opened a man's voice yelling could be heard.

"please- calm down, there's people sleeping"

a little female voice was heard right after the yelling, making Charles and Lando both step out of the elevator and look more into the situation.

Charles' eyes widened immediately as he saw a man in front of your door, yelling and pushing you into the wall.

"you think I care about the people sleeping on this fucking floor? everyone should know here that you're a fucking whore"

the man yelled again, grabbing your jaw harshly and pushing you into the wall aggressively.

Charles couldn't take it anymore and he decided it was time for him to step in and stop the whole altercation.

he walked up to you two and grasped the man's wrist to yank him away from you, and the two men finished eye to eye, even though the man was slightly shorter then Charles.

"what are you doing, mate?"

Charles asked the man, putting himself between the man and you, as the man scoffed.

"and who are you, huh? her new play thing?"

he asked while gesturing his hands around, making Charles furrow his eyebrows and reach behind himself to flush your body to his back, your hands grabbing his shirt at his sides tightly.

"what if? who even are you?"

Charles asked, nodding his chin towards him and making a step forwards in almost a threatening way.

"you know, the father of the kid you are probably acting like a father to?"

the man said, making Charles realize that he was probably your ex and the father of your kid.

Charles stayed silent, deciding that it was time to end this whole thing right now before it escalated any further.

"when are you gonna let me see my kid, Y/n?"

the man asked, bending his body to the side to look at you, but Charles body blocked his whole sight and he couldn't even get a glimpse of you.

"when he is able to tell me what happens"

you say, getting into your house quickly and closing the door behind your back with a loud sound.

"this bitch-"

the man tried to get close to the door of your apartment, but Charles stopped him, basically getting in his face.

"if you don't get out of this building as soon as I can even think about it, I will get to know where you work, where you live and take everything down real soon"

he said, making the man take a few steps back, his face a little paler than earlier but still trying to be big and bad.

"and how would you do that, huh? who even are you?"

the man asked, making Charles scoff.

"you don't need to know, the only thing you need to know is that here you will probably see my face everywhere in Monaco and you will never be able to forget about what I did to your life"

the man started taking slow steps back, walking towards the end of the corridor, where the elevator was still open and waiting for him.

as this all happened, Charles realized that Lando was still standing there a bit shocked and staring at him like he was crazy.

"can you check that he really gets out? I need to check on her"

he said, turning towards your door as soon as Lando nodded his head at his request and walked to the elevator right after the man.

Charles softly knocked on your door.

"go away"

you said from the inside, making Charles' heart clench.

"it's Charles, can you open the door, please?"

he asked as softly and lowly as possible.

you slowly opened the door, letting him walk inside, careful not to step onto some toys that your kid had left around.

a little sniffle came from you that were behind him and Charles turned towards you to pull you into a tight hug.

"you wanna talk about it?"

he asked you softly, getting a shake of your head in return.

"it's okay, I don't need to-"

his words were cut off by a baby's cry that made you get out of the hug, but Charles stopped you while putting his hands on your upper arms.

"can I go?"

Charles asked, getting an hesitant nod from you and going towards the little bed that was in the living room to get the baby in his arms.

he started swaying side to side, humming lowly the melody of his song that he usually played on the piano to calm him down, while Y/n sat on the small couch that was on the side of the small bed.

the baby slowly started calming down, getting back to sleep pretty quickly so that Charles could place the baby back down onto the bed and sit on the couch next to you.

"he was abusive"

you started, making Charles look at you sweetly.

"you don't have to-"

Charles got cut off by you.

"no, I have to"

you said, taking in a deep breath and continuining on what you were saying.

"he was abusive, but when I got pregnant with Joe I decided that it was time for us to go. I couldn't bare loose my kid because of him, I lost already too much because of him. so I went away but he soon found out where I was working and where I was living and I had to change again. I was able to do eleven months living here, but now he found out and I don't know what to do. I mean- you were here now but you will not be here all the time and I would never expect you to and-"

you started rambling really quickly, making Charles stop you with an hand.

"you can trust me that he will not bother you anymore around here"

he said, drawing a low giggle from you that made his eyebrows furrow.

"did you threaten him or something?"

you asked jokingly as Charles smiled at your soft giggle.

"yeah, something like that"

he replied jokingly, with another low chuckle.

"thank you, anyway"

you suddenly said as Charles smiled at you.

"for what?"

he asked, even though he could imagine what it was for, he still wanted to hear you say that.

"for playing the piano for my son and for protecting me today"

you said, looking at him with a soft smile that made Charles' heart skip a beat.

"that's really nothing"

he said, returning the same smile back at you.

"hey, uhm... I know, maybe it isn't the best time to ask something like that but, would you go on a date with me sometime? nothing soon, I mean- if you're ready soon would be lovely but if you're not it's okay- I'll stop talking, yeah"

Charles rambled in embarrassment, getting a small chuckle from you on his side.

"I would love to, but Joe-"

you didn't even get to say anything that Charles already found the solution to any problem that could have popped up, as he probably had already thought about these type of problems.

"you could both come to my house and I could even play the piano for him so that he could fall asleep while you rest a bit with me"

he tried, making you chuckle and nod your head.

"then... tomorrow at 7 PM?"

Charles asked for confirmation, getting a nod in return as you both got up from the couch and walked towards your apartment door.

"well, goodnight, Charles. see you tomorrow"

you said, opening your arms to give him an hug.

"goodnight, Y/n"

he replied, tightening the hug just a tiny bit before letting go and exiting your apartment to enter his own.

time skip: the day after at 7 PM

a soft knock on Charles' door stopped his attempts at cooking to dry his hands on his apron to go open his door.

the sight of you dressed up in a cute dress with a big bag on your shoulder and Joe on your hip made Charles gasp slightly.

"you look so good"

Charles said, placing an hand on your upper arm to lean over and kiss your cheek, then turning towards Joe and taking him from your arms to throw him in the air playfully.

"and aren't you handsome all dressed up like a true gentleman"

he complimented the little kid, that was dressed up in a toddler sized tux, placing him on his hip and taking the big bag from your shoulder and placing it on his own shoulder.

"you look good as well, so domestic and so gentleman taking all my bags"

you complimented, smiling widely at Charles and getting on your tiptoes to place an hand on his shoulder to kiss his cheek.

"oh- I'm trying to cook you pasta, the last time I tried cooking it was kinda crunchy, but this time, I put a timer on the right time"

he said, placing the bag down on a barstool and still holding Joe on his hip while he went over to the kitchen to check on the pasta he was cooking.

you watched the whole scene from the doorstep of the kitchen, watching your date cook in his kitchen with your baby on his hip like he was his own kid.

"Joe eats the same things we do, right? I did some research yesterday and google told me that eleven months old eat the same thing adult do"

he asked, searching your face for something to confirm or deny what he was saying and getting a sure nod in return.

the timer on his phone ringed and you took Joe from Charles' arms so that he could get the pasta out of the water and into the pan with the condiment.

he plated everything as you sat down at the table with Joe on your leg, Charles placed the plates on the table and you started eating with Charles feeding Joe a few times when you were busy eating yourself.

the conversation kept flowing between you two and Joe soon got full and wanted to get down from your lap, but you tried to keep him in your lap since you didn't know if Charles was okay with your toddler snooping around in his apartment.

"oh, no. let him down, please. it's alright"

Charles said, noticing how you didn't want to let your kid down, so you finally let Joe get on the floor and roam around, you and Charles watching him as he reached a chair to slowly get up on his feet.

"he can walk?"

the man asked as you took a sip from your glass of wine.

"not yet, he's getting ready for it"

you replied, putting the wine glass down and getting up to go clean the dishes out of habit, but Charles stopped you by gently wrapping his fingers around your wrist that was grabbing the plate you used.

"oh no, I'll do it, you can chill with Joe over here"

he said, taking the dishes that you used and took them to the kitchen to place them in the sink, you smiled as he put his apron back on and you leaned on the kitchen island with your glass of wine while watching your son trying to paddle around and falling to his butt sometimes.

you watched around his living room, as Joe got closer to his piano, and the long line of big champagne bottles on his shelf caught you eye.

"what's up with all those bottles?"

you asked him, as you put your glass down to go to your kid as he started crawling towards Charles' couch.

"they're the champagne bottles from my podiums"

he explained quickly to you, since he was trying to load the dishwasher as quick as possible to get back to you and your kid.

"that's so cool"

you said, smiling up at the bottles as you sat on his couch as your son kept crawling around the coffee table in front of it.

you looked at the time and noticed that it was already 9:45 PM, looking at your son and how he started rubbing his eyes with sleep, picking him up from the ground and walking towards the kitchen to let Charles know.

"hey, Joe is really sleepy, so I think is time for me to go back"

you said, a sad smile on your face, you really didn't want to go back to your apartment yet, but you couldn't leave your son alone to get back here.

"or you could let Joe sleep on my bed and you could come back here with me- I mean, if you want to and if your comfortable of course"

he said, rubbing his neck shyly, his cheeks slightly red from embarrassment, making you chuckle.

"are you sure? that would mean that you would have to endure me for the whole night"

you warned him, since you couldn't pick up Joe in the middle of the night to take him back to your own apartment.

but your warning made Charles chuckle and smile warmly at you as he closed the loaded dishwasher and pulled off his apron.

"I could endure your company my whole life and never get tired of it, mon ange"

he said, getting closer to you and placing his hand on your upper arm with a loving smile.

"oh- that's so cheesy of you"

you teased him with a roll of your eyes and a smile.

"I'm gonna play the piano for Joe as you put him to sleep, is that good?"

Charles asked, getting a nod from you as you walked towards his room with the lights turned off as Joe already slumped on your shoulder.

the first notes of Charles song started playing and Joe was already starting to relax on your shoulder as you started rocking your body to slowly pull him to sleep.

as the song was done for the second time you were getting out of Charles' room, pulling the door almost closed behind your back.

Charles noticed you really quickly, turning around in his piano's seat with a smile as you smiled back at him.

he placed one of his legs on the other side of the seat, so that you could sit on front of him.

he patted the seat in front of him to call you over and you sat with both your legs to the outer side of the seat, sitting between his legs as his right hand went on your lower back and his left hand rested on your thigh.

"you look so pretty tonight, have I told you already?"

he whispered in your ear as he rested his chin on your shoulder, his words and his breath on your neck made you giggle softly.

"yes, a few times already"

you said, turning your face towards him and smiling at him, your noses almost touching from how close you were to each other faces.

a small giggle came from him as your noses touched, left to right and then back right to left.

"I wanna kiss you so bad, right now. can I do it? can I kiss you?"

he asked in a whisper, making you smile and nod at his words.

your lips finally touched and the kiss was soft and slow, a soft smile stretching your lips as his hands pulled you closer by your waist and you placed your hand on his jaw, pulling him closer and closer.

he smiled as he felt your lips stretch in a smile, slightly pulling away to look at you and smile widely.

"why are you smiling?"

Charles whispered on your lips, making you chuckle and using your hand to fix some of his hair that didn't want to stay in their place.

"cause you make me feel good..."

you said, pecking his lips just to pull back again and leave him leaning forward slightly to chase your lips.

"... and safe"

you added in a whisper, making him smile widely and turn you around so that you were leaning your back on his chest as he moved your hair to one side to expose your bare neck and shoulder because of your dress.

"I will treat you and Joe better then him, you can count on that"

Charles whispered, placing soft pecks to the juncture between your neck and your shoulder and making you giggle as his breath slightly tickled you.

"I'm gonna trust you on that"

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddie-week.

Reach Out and Touch Someone

Day #7 - Prompt: Free Space | Word Count: 1500 | Rating: T | CW: Language, Alcohol | POV: Steve | Tags: AU, Wrong Number, Right Person Trope, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Meet-Cute

Steve dials the number messily scrawled on the scrap of paper. He’s nervous. He’s always nervous when he has to stick his neck out and make a move on a girl these days. 

Yeah, he did the first bit of legwork and got her number out at the bar last night. But he's fumbled the ball and failed enough times, Robin's loving, but accurate, "you suck" burned in his brain, that he's always leery to try again. He should be used to it by now, but it’s still uncomfortable and awkward, every goddamn time. If his friends weren't all fretting about his emotional well-being from being so terminally alone, he wouldn’t put forth half the effort anymore. 

He has Robin. He has his cat. He's happy. 

It rings three times before he hears it connect, “Hello?”

It’s a man’s voice, and he hesitates for just a moment, “I’m looking for, uh, Lyla?”

“Sorry, man. Wrong number.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I must have misdialed,” Steve says, a different kind of embarrassment. But this is one he can handle easier, for sure. So he pushed the wrong button somewhere along the way. His eyesight isn't the best thing he's got going for him.

“No worries, man,” the other guy laughs, seemingly carefree about being bothered.

They each disconnect and then Steve reads, and re-reads, the number before dialing again. More carefully this time.

It rings only once before it’s connected.

“Still me, dude,” the familiar voice relays, still light and friendly.

“Wow. I’m so sorry. Clearly, I was given a fake number. That's embarrassing,” Steve laughs, because this is more embarrassing than misdialing. He's uncomfortable and mortified to admit that this girl just didn't want him to call her. Even if he's only admitting it to a stranger.

She should have just told him no. He hates that she didn't, for her sake, too.

“Shitty move,” the other guy answers.

“Yeah, well. I'm sorry I bothered you. Again. I promise to cross-check any future numbers against yours before dialing, just in case.”

The guy laughs, "Well, now. Don't go to any trouble for my sake. Honestly,” and he doesn't sound put-out at all, “don’t worry about it. She clearly didn’t have the balls to just, be, like, honest. That sucks.”

Steve laughs, maybe if she'd had balls this wouldn't have happened at all. Most men feel more comfortable just saying no, he thinks, which is sad but true. He swings both ways, and maybe he should take this as a sign to lean the other way for a while. See if that works out any better for him. 

It probably won't, but he could try.

“There goes my big weekend plans,” Steve teases, uncertain why he does it, even as the words tumble out of his mouth. He needs to hang up the phone and let this guy get back to his own life.

“Dude. That's a problem I can solve. I’m gigging tonight. You have to come. Let me entertain you.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Whatever. I want to. Just show up. It’ll be a great story, will it not?”

It would be a great story. One he could even tell Robin to convince her he’s living a little, “I don’t even know your name. What if you’re a serial killer or something?”

“Yep, that’s me. Vicious killer,” the guy laughs, “I’m Eddie, man. And I’m a fucking ball to be around. You’ll want to take me up on this awesome offer. We’ll all be down at Hellfire Club around eight. Show up. If you think we’re murderous, you don’t have to follow us to any secondary, secluded locations.”

Hellfire Club is literally two blocks from Steve’s apartment. He's been past it countless times, but never inside. It's always dark. Like it's not even open, making him unsure about what kind of bar it is, it's so nondescript from the outside. Not to mention the name is a little intimidating. He'd half-convinced himself it's a BDSM club. 

But, now that he's been invited, he could just walk down and see what’s the what, “How will I know which guy you are?”

Eddie laughs, “You’ll know. Trust me.”

Steve has a hard time trusting anyone new these days, but Eddie seems friendly enough. 

Steve realizes he must have been quiet for too long, because Eddie starts talking again.

“I’ll have on a badass battle vest. Look for that. You'll see me. It's impossible not to. I promise.”

“Okay,” Steve agrees, even if he’s not sure what a battle vest even is.

“Now, are you going to tell me your name, or will that just be a surprise?” Eddie asks.

Steve laughs, “Steve. I’m Steve.”

“Well, I’ll see you later, Steve.”

Steve stands in front of his closet for far too long, trying to find something to wear that doesn’t look too nerdy. He assumes Eddie's cool. He sounded cool, and Steve may have been cool in high school, but these days he just keeps his head down and goes through life, content to be fairly unnoticed. He finally settles on a black t-shirt. Basic, classic. Timeless.

Boring. 

But that's a risk he's willing to take.

He walks down the street slowly and arrives around eight-thirty. The windows are still all blacked out, tinted to the point he can't see anything inside. There's just the neon sign with the Hellfire Club over the door.

When he pulls open the door, he's in a hallway that's painted all black, with a bouncer at the end, stationed at a door. Steve kind of wants to turn around, flee, but he doesn't. He's already here. He might as well at least see. Robin will kill him if he chickens out.

He gives his ID to the bouncer, and is directed down a staircase. He really hopes this isn't a sex club. 

It's not.

And as soon as he crosses the threshold into the bar, yes, he knows Eddie instantly. He’s gotta be the one on the bar, pouring shots directly into various mouths. Steve knows he could turn around right now and this adventure could end. But watching Eddie laughing and prancing up and down the bar with flourish, clearly having fun, makes Steve want to go up and meet this guy.

Steve takes an open seat at the end of the bar, kind of out of the way, and just watches Eddie work the crowd.

The bar is blaring It's Raining Men and Eddie is playing up the song, big time. He's not a stripper, at least Steve doesn't think he is, but he's working the crowd for tips, absolutely. He keeps handing them down to a curly-headed guy, who keeps stuffing them into an overflowing jar.

Steve's pretty sure this is a gay club, or at least queer friendly. Maybe he has found a place for himself, something that's been right here under his nose, all this time.

When Eddie finally jumps down off the bar, Steve watches him work the rest of the room.

The other guy comes over and takes Steve's order, and he doesn't quite have the same flourish, but he's efficient and confident with a bottle and jigger.

"Name for the tab?" he asks, shaking the drink Steve had picked from the list.

"Steve," Steve says, and the guy looks up and meets his eyes.

Surely not. This doesn't feel like this is Eddie. He is wearing a vest, a red plaid one, but the other guy also has a denim vest on, full of patches.

"Eddie?" Steve questions, needing to make sure.

"Gareth," the guy says, "that's Eddie," he clarifies, pointing at the one Steve had correctly clocked as Eddie to begin with. "You're his wrong number guy, right?"

Steve nods. He supposes that's what he is, "Yeah. That's me. Loser in love."

Gareth laughs, and it makes Steve smile.

"That's our specialty here, you'll feel right at home," Gareth teases.

"Glad to hear it."

"I'll tell him you're here," Gareth assures, "he wasn't sure you'd come."

"That makes two of us," Steve admits, and Gareth smiles as he finishes shaking Steve's drink, putting it down in front of him.

"On the house. First-timers to Hellfire drink free," Gareth says, and then he's walking away. 

Steve's eyes follow Gareth across the bar, watching as he taps Eddie on the shoulder, leaning close to his ear, pointing right at Steve.

Eddie looks, meets his eyes, and Steve raises his hand, giving him a small, little wiggle of his fingers.

A huge smile spreads across Eddie's face as he bounds in Steve's direction.

Eddie's quickly right in his personal space, squeezing both of Steve's shoulders, greeting him with a smile, "Welcome to Hellfire."

Steve smiles, liking the feeling of Eddie's hands bleeding through his t-shirt, warming him.

Eddie lets go, and Steve misses the feeling already, but Eddie stays. Sliding onto the stool next to Steve, "I'm glad you came."

And Steve's completely honest as he answers, "Me too."

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddie-week and follow along with the fun!

Notes: If you're too young to remember it, reach out and touch someone was the slogan/jingle for Bell System telephone company back in the day. So, that's where the title comes from, as a play on the wrong number phone call trope.

[macsimagines]

Ex-boyfriend & Yandere!Ran Haitani

(This is my best one guys i really like it. Please tell me what you think my ask box is open!!! Ms.Mac)

TW: Stalking, gaslighting, abuse, murder Unhinged behavior

Leaving Ran wasn't easy. He never took you seriously when you kept trying to tell him you were done.

Would still show up at your place demanding sex or somewhere to crash after partying too hard.

Its like he wasn't letting you break up with him. You kept trying to make it clear you were over it and he'd just reel you back in with empty promises and sweet lies.

But then he'd go and be an asshole and smack your ass infront of his friends or call you mean names...flirt with other girls in front of you...

You're done officially. You don't even tell him in person, just shoot him a text and move out of your apartment and out of Roppongi.

You choose to block him on all platforms, change your number, you're literally cutting out every piece of him.

Of course, you're not that lucky. It only takes a week or two but he eventually shows up at your apartment demanding to know what shit you think your pulling now.

A fight ensues, you yell and he yells then you're crying and he really thinks he's slick when he tries to hug you. But you shove him away and tell him you want out of this relationship.

The way he looks at you after that is down right unsettling, but he asks you for sex. He really does ask you for "one more unforgettable night." to seal the deal.

Despite all the red flags in your gut, you cave. Anything to get rid of Ran Haitani forever.

Its great. Its actually some of the best sex of your life. It leaves a giant hole in your chest though.

You tell him no kissing, and he actually looks like he might cry, but if he can't kiss your lips he's kissing every other part of you. He treats you like an actual partner. The way he caresses your body burns from how soft it is and the way he whispers about how much he loves you and can't live without you makes you want to cry.

You just want him to fuck you and get it over with, but, the bastard, decides that for the first time during your last time he'll actually treat you like a lover.

When it's all finished Ran lays with you for an hour. You're turned away from him waiting for him to just leave. "This it then? You ain't got shit to fuckin' say to me?"

Fighting back tears you nod. This was a mistake. You can tell from the tone in his voice.

He leans in real close right above your ear and whispers; "You're never gonna have someone like me, you'll never find what we have again. I'm gonna make sure of it, Y/N."

When he finally goes he slams the door behind him and everything in the apartment rattles with the force of it.

And you lie awake that night in fear and heartbreak because you know Ran meant what he said.

It's months before you feel normal again, you've got this weird pit in your stomach that someone's watching you and at night you can feel eyes while you sleep. Things disappear from your apartment and you're starting to feel paranoid.

But eventually your friends convince you its all in your head. Soon you start going out again and trying to meet people.

Keyword trying. It's always one date and then they ghost you, you can't even get a hookup. Maybe people can tell you have too much baggage.

Finally in desperation you go out to a bar. You've got an itch and you're hoping at least one stupid fling will officially make you move on from Ran Haitani.

You meet someone and you're too drunk to care what he looks like, you don't care that his cologne is so pungent it makes you wanna gag, you don't care that he's not even going to take you to a love hotel he's just got you in an alley, you don't care that it's not Ran.

His lips are on your neck and you close your eyes. You try to picture a handsome man, maybe an idol you saw on TV but that doesn't help at all. You pray to god he just finishes quickly but then thankfully you don't feel his lips on your skin.

For one blessed second you hope he lost interest and just left you alone. But when you open your eyes you see a literal ghost.

You almost don't recognize him with his hair dyed and cut so short but its... Ran Haitani.

He's on top of the man beating him to death. The sickening sound of his fists hitting bloodied wet skin is resonating in the alley way.

You can't even stutter out one word too terrified and shocked at the sight before you. Ran has never looked this way before. Just a snarl on his face and his eyes wide and crazed.

When he's done, after the other man has stopped making any noise, dear god is he dead, he looks at you. His eyes are blood red and unfocused. His whole body is shaking but he stumbles towards you on unsteady legs.

Finally, you get your senses a little too late, You try to make a run for it but he's grabbing you and shoving you against the wall. His bloody hands on either side of your face looking you dead in the eyes.

You get a good look at him, the hair isn't the only thing that's changed he doesn't look like he's slept in weeks.

"That's fuckin' it, Y/N," he whispers, voice cracking, "Thats enough, no more of this breakup shit. You hear me, Y/N? DO YOU FUCKIN' HEAR ME?"

You nod, frantically. Tears streaming down your face. You're shaking too scared to fight back.

"Fuckin' cheating. Never thought you would baby, can't believe you'd do this me." He holds you tight in a hug the blood all over him smearing on you as well.

"My own fault. Should'a stuck by closer. You needed the attention, my own fuckin' fault." he kisses the side of your head and you can barely breath with how tight he's holding you.

"Shaking like a leaf. Fucker scared you. He got what he deserved, touchin' you like that. Pretty baby."

You're shivering and sniffling because Ran is what's scaring you, but you don't dare tell him that with his deranged rambling.

"I'll do better, baby, I'll treat you good this time. No one's gonna take you from me..."

Darkness fills your vision and you realize that Ran just knocked you out. Before you're completely unconscious you hear him say something he's only ever said once or twice.

"I love you..."

[threepandas]

Sun Burnt: Part 2

Sixteen grand, only half my go bags, and about three blocks of Mafia Land on fire.

That was my fucking legacy now. I was the crazy fuck that DICK PUNCHED the Dread God of hitmen everywhere. The nightmare that lesser men fear. The blood soaked luxury few can afford! Oh god. I just punch the greatest hitman on THE PLANET in the DICK.

IN PUBLIC.

CURSE YOU LIGHTNING BRAIN!

I can't believe I fucking FORGOT that panic and impossibly fast reaction times were a BAD IDEA. God DAMN it! No wonder everyone thinks Lightnings are morons! That was the DUMBEST SHIT I'VE EVER DONE IN MY LIFE! Oh god. Oh god! I'm gonna die so slow. He's gonna drag it out! What do I DO!?

He didn't even collapse! Just hissed in through his teeth and TANKED it!

Thank god for Tazer training.

But also like!? Ha ha!!! OH GOD IM SO DEAD. I just pissed off EVERYBODY, didn't I? I can never come back! I had to have hit like... fifteen DIFFERENT SETS back there! And Colonello will be out for my BLOOD. Fuck, I wanna LIVE!

Boats. I gotta steal one of the boats!

And thank god? I DO. The island is in chaos, thanks to the fires. I dump the boats number of trackers overboard. Sure, I have to take a knife to a few fancy ass walls. But it's WORTH it.

I got a fancy ass little yacht! Perfect. It's fast, it's liveable, I can DISAPPEAR out to sea. He'll NEVER fi-!

Click.

Cool metal smoothly, cruely, presses againt the back of my head to crush my hope, just as it begins to form. The cologne is unmistakable. I can not tell you, how in God's name I missed it. The barrel of a gun pressed close, like a lover's hand, in unspoken threat.

"Bella~" purrs an amused voice from behind me. It sound like a threat. "Quite the trouble maker, aren't you? Such... CHAOS~♡ But, really? Did you HONESTLY think you could run? We're not done yet."

.....m...maybe I could swim.

I break out into a cold sweat, too aware yet completely frozen. The stairs to the deck are too far away. Fuck. I... I could MAYBE make it? Or.. or punch out a wall? Right into the water? I try to keep my breathing even. It doesn't work. I know, because Death made a man? Who stands behind me? Hums in amusement. His gun pressing tighter against my skin.

"I wouldn't, bella fulminea. I am nothing if not a gentleman, but if you keep fighting me? Well... it is a long boat ride. I'll have to find SOME way to immobilize you long enough for us to have a little chat. And an excuse to have my Flames inside you? You'd be surprised the damage one can do without lasting effects, when they know HOW too."

"And make no mistake. I DO know how to hurt you."

"So let's behave ourselves, hmm? Have a seat."

I... I had a seat. Very comfy. Didn't feel like crying in the SLIGHTEST ha ha, WHAAAT? Don't be silly! This is FINE! We're all friends here! R..Right?

The slow grin I got was NOT reassuring.

He stood there, above me, gun casually pointed at my head, as he examined me. Taking his time. As though decadently savoring the moment. Enjoying my tensed muscles. The way my Flames crackled and arced across my skin. My eyes dilated in fear. The resonance that filled the cabin.

His eyes weren't dark anymore. And that... God, that was the worst part. They had lit up. I'd HEARD about the phenomenon, but never thought I ever actually SEE it. 'Cause who could actually be that batshit powerful? What realistic person would ever be so fucking STRONG?

It was like looking into molten gold. Liquid Sun Flames. I could almost SEE the flicker and burn. I could DEFINITELY feel the Flames filling the room. It was like being crammed in a box with a tiger that barely fit to begin with. Shoved RIGHT up against its face. All I could do was hope it was friendly. Preferably ignored me.

But he wasn't.

No, he wanted to TALK.

Had finally, thankfully, put the gun away. Stepped closer to grab my face and tilt it up. Angle it this way and that. Memorizing my features. Shit. My thoughts must have been obvious on my face, because his smirk widened. His grip got tighter.

"Do you know, little lightning, how long I've waited? How many DECADES I've made do? I don't care if you're not a Sky. You could be another sun as far as I'm concerned. It is the fact that your Flames SING to mine. Crave a place with mine. THAT is why you will never escape me."

I didn't even know if I WANTED a Set. Yeah, it sounded cool. The companionship, the understanding and stuff. Like... like soulmates. Literal platonic but could be not if you wanted Soulmates. Yours forever. Best friends and balm to all wounds. But? But! If THIS was what was in store for me?!

Ha ha, NOPE!

I may not have be interested in being some meat shield for some entitled, cloying, grabby-flamed Sky BRAT, but that didn't mean I wanted a living DREAD GOD! R... RIGHT?! I just wanted, you know, substance! Mutual understanding and a mature outlook on life. Competence. Maybe some one... who thinks... I'm...funny...

Ooooooh no.

Oh no no NO!

"REBORN! Did you KIDNAP a random thief?!"

Thuds up on the deck. A roaring voice sounding vaguely hysterical. A god like Cloud kicking the door to the lower levels clear off it's hinges. Vongola. Oh thank MERCIFUL FUCK. I risk a glance across the table. His face has frozen in it's pleasantly smiling mask. Pissed at being interrupted. Again.

His eyes say "don't you do it. Don't even DARE.

My eyes shoot from him to the Cloud slowly walking down the steps. Followed by the rest of the Tenth generation of the Vongola Familgia. The clear exit they've left open behind them. Back to him. His gaze now promising to break both my legs.

.....he'll have to fucking catch me first.

I BOLT.

[mariaace]

Loving you was a loosing game...

Angst collab with @saelique ༊࿐

A/n:Hey lovesss!! This is my work for Cinna's angst collab with Reo Mikage<33 i hope you all enjoy and go check out her collab💜

Genre:angst/no comfort Pairing:Reo Mikage Type:one shot

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Did you know what you were getting yourself into when you started dating Reo? Yes. Or at least that's what you thought. You knew about your boyfriend's love towards his best friend amd you didn't really mind it, well you didn't.

Him and Nagi were spending way much more time together, since they got interested in football. You again don't mind it that much, after all he is your boyfriend and you want him to be happy. But at the same time-it wasn't fair. You knew Reo longer than Nagi did and he most of time was somehow ignoring you. He didn't do it on purpose, right? No. He wouldn't do that.

Now you were sitting in class thinking about that, while Reo and Nagi were a seat ahead of you. Of course Nagi was sleeping. Your thoughts were interrupted by the bell ringing. You packed your things and started walking through the door. You thought about waiting for Reo, but he was already busy trying to wake up Nagi from his hibernation.

Days has been awfully quiet. Still pushing though aside you decided to meet with your boyfriend so things could get back to how they were. You texted him quickly to meet up tomorrow since it was a friday evening. He replied faster than usual and agreed. You smiled and put your phone away. Well, time for getting homework done for tomorrow.

You're getting ready for the "date", well at least sort of a date. But it didn't matter it was finally time for you hang out with your boyfriend. You came to the location, patiently waiting for Reo. Waiting.. waiting..ughhhhh.... Okay, okay, calm down.. training might just hold him up right? Just wait a bit longer and check out your phon- ... Nagi, Nagi, Nagi.. enough. You went straight home after his not even bothering to text Reo. He didn't text you either so it's gonna be that way.

Instead of saying something you started being cold to him, not giving him the same attention. Did he noticed that? You can't really tell which explains a lot, but still. You loved Reo and you thought he loved you too, but seems like his best friend was more important. You couldn't continue lying yourself so you decided thar it's time.

Talk to him? How? When there is not time hm? Football, Nagi, Football, Nagi. In that moment your parents bursted into the room. Your father got a different job in another city so you're moving out of here. Well just perfect.

The next day you remembered your boyfriend had a training so you decided to go and wait for him 'till he finishes it and talk to him. On your way there though you saw no other than Nagi himself who was being late because he slept in. As you approached him an idea popped in your mind. You took out a pen and a paper and after writing on it you gave it to Nagi asking him to give it to Reo. He agreed and went to his training.

There you are now. Sitting on your desk completely ignoring the topic the teacher is talking about. There is no one that you know in the desk in front you... You have blocked Reo's and number and all of his social medias, so you didn't know if he got the paper, but if he didn't he probably figured out what happened.

When break came you were on your phone, when you suddenly saw an article. "Blue lock project" amd there they were their names.

...

-Nagi Seishiro

-Reo Mikage

...

You smiled to yourself when you saw his name. Well at least now he have got the two things he loved the most in his live.

© mariaace 2024 please do not steal, copy, translate or plagiarize. Thank you.

[xoxo-author]

What happens in Vegas, does not stay in Vegas

Hello! I am back! Work and the real world have been kicking my ass. not to mention writer's block! Anyway, here's a little story that I have been daydreaming about forever.

Jake Seresin x FemReader

Warnings: Language, shitty writing, mentions of drinking, suggestive, made up laws

There were four things I was sure of before I even opened my eyes this morning. 

1. I was going to have the worst hangover in the history of hangovers. 

2.  I was never drinking again.

3. Number 2 is a lie

4. I need to ask the hotel where they got their blankets because they seemed to be heated and weighted so I need one.

I couldn't remember what I drank, how much I drank last night. or what we even did. 

There was no doubt that coming to Vegas for a bachelor and bachelorette party would be crazy, I knew that as soon as I saw where we were going, but I didn't think we'd end up straight out of a scene from The Hangover. 

I lay there for a little while longer, trying to get up the nerve to open my eyes. I knew that once I did, my headache would set in and I don't think I was ready for that. 

After a few minutes, I felt myself starting to fall back asleep but before I could, the weight on top of me began to move. Panic rises through me as I thought it was a weighted blanket this whole time. 

Once my eyes adjust, my gaze lands on a very hungover, possibly still drunk, Jake Seresin sitting up on his knees. His hair was all over the place, nothing on but a pair of Calvin Klein briefs, hands rubbing his eyes. 

"What the fuck did we do last night?"

Jake startles, head whipping up to look at me, but recovers quickly. A smirk slides onto his face and he opens his mouth to say something but I quickly hold up my hand to stop him. I was in no mood to hear one of his comments. Taking in his attire, or lack thereof, my mind begins to race. 

My eyes widen as I quickly pull up the blanket that was covering my body. I was in one of Jake's t-shirts so that was a good sign but my relief was short-lived as I came to see that my underwear has seemingly gone mia. 

I push myself up to a sitting position, throwing my hands up to cover my face, "Do you remember anything from last night?"

"You mean, did we have sex?" 

Rolling my eyes behind my hands, "Yes, Hangman, did we have sex or not?" 

I didn't have to look at him to know that he was smirking, "Can you walk?" 

My hands fall away from my face, giving him the most confused face I could muster, "What does my ability to walk have to do with anything?" 

Leaning back on his hands, "Princess, if we had sex last night, there's no way you'd be able to walk this morning."

Closing my eyes, I let out a huge sigh, "Now is not the time for games, Hangman."

"I'm just telling you the truth, ask any of the girls I've taken home." 

I open my eyes to look at him, "There's not enough time in the world to go through that list." 

He rolls his eyes but says nothing else. 

As the silence rolls over the room, I let my eyes wander around. I was definitely in Hangman's room, his stuff was thrown everywhere, it smelled like him, and it had a different view of the strip than mine did. My attention is brought back to Hangman as he drags a hand down his face. My eyes are drawn to his fingers, specifically his ring finger, "Hangman, what's on your finger?"

His eyebrows furrow as he pulls his hand away from his face to look, "Is that a wedding ring?"

A black shiny band wraps around his finger. His ring finger.

"Who the hell did I marry?" 

A sinking feeling settles in my stomach as the words leave his mouth. Slowly, I look down at my hands that rested on my lap. I turn my hand so I could see the back of my hand, my eyes are immediately drawn to the ring that rested on my finger. My ring finger.

I look back up at Hangman, whose brows were furrowed and whose gaze was locked on the ring on my hand, "This is a joke right?"

Hangman didn't say anything, just continued to stare, so he was useless at the moment. 

Flinging the blanket off, I throw my legs off the side of the bed and push myself up. I head over to the dresser and begin to open the drawers, "Hangman, where are your underwear?'

Glancing over my shoulder, Hangman still sat on the bed staring at my empty spot. "Hangman!" 

He turns to look at me, a very confused look on his face. "I need a pair of underwear to wear so we can go find our friends who will hopefully tell us that this was just a joke and that they snuck in here and placed the rings on our fingers while we were sleeping."

He points over to the closet but doesn't say anything. I rush over and throw the doors open, quickly grabbing a pair of his boxers and pulling them on before heading to the bathroom. I put some toothpaste onto my finger before quickly "brushing" my teeth. 

Hangman had pulled on a pair of sweats and was pulling on a t-shirt when I walked out of the bathroom. 

Neither of us said a word as we made our way towards the front door where we find a note from Bob, saying to meet them in the buffet room.

All but throwing open the door, I quickly make my way down the hall and towards the elevator with Hangman trailing behind me. 

The words from my ex repeating in my head, if you get with anyone else I'll have no choice but... my thoughts were interrupted by the ding of the elevator.

The elevator ride seemed to go on forever. Neither Hangman nor I said anything to each other. It was like Hangman and I hated each other but we weren't friends either. I was introduced to the group through Coyote. Hangman had tried his usual tricks to get into my pants and I didn't fall for it. I think I was the only one who didn't fall for him and he wasn't used to it.

The lobby was already busting with people by the time we got here, I couldn't tell if people were going or if their night had just ended. 

Hangman and I begin to make our way towards the buffet room but we didn't get very far, "Mr. and Mrs. Seresin!" 

I turn my head and see the front desk lady looking in our direction.  I stared at her for a few seconds before bringing a finger up to point at me. She nods and enthusiastically waves us over.

I grab Hangman's arm and begin to drag him over to the front desk. 

"Mr. and Mrs. Seresin! Good morning!"

The lady's smile falters for a brief second but returns to its over-the-topness, "I was just about to give you a call! The chapel called and they requested that I copy of the marriage license be mailed to the address in San Diego and that it was successfully filed this morning!"

                                                              **********

The lawyer sets the marriage license down before leaning back in his chair, running a hand over his face, "To be honest, there is nothing we can do."

I'm pretty sure my eyes about fell out of my skull.

"There are laws in place here in San Diego, specifically towards those who get married in Vegas and shotgun weddings. Basically, to not waste the court's time, those who get married like you two did have to be married a full year before they can file for divorce."

I take a deep breath in, leaning my head against my hand, "So we can't get divorced for a year?"

Nodding, the lawyer leans forward, glancing back and forth between Hangman and me, "You will have to prove that you two really gave it a shot, and if at the end of the year, you don't feel the same then you will be granted a divorce. You do have to do the things married couples do like live together, attend therapy, go out, and whatever else they do. You will have random visits by a court-appointed person to ensure that you both are giving this a go. Any questions Mr. and Mrs. Seresin?"

[hms-tardimpala]

Ficbinding: The Bone Eater by CluckU

(Listen, taking pics is not my talent. Just ignore the Wrestlemania tier list in the background.)

The fic: SPN, Castiel/Dean Winchester, E, 119.3k This fic is amazing. It's dark as I like and breathtaking, and it's a fantastic exploration of my favorite character, Dean Winchester. He's completely believable as CluckU writes him, there's not a doubt in my mind that that's how he would react if kidnapped and fed on by a minotaur, even at the times in the story when I wished he'd go against his instincts to protect himself. Also, the monster in this fic is so cool. He's well written, menacing, pathetic in a way, and so terrifying because of the way he feeds and how implacable he is. Special mention to the whole Misery vibe of this fic and especially chapter 15, that was so well done. Read the tags.

The bind: This is one of my most complex works to date, for several reasons. Let's start with the palette. White for te very bare cell Dean lives in and to contrast with other colors; red on the endbands and ribbon for blood (and there's a lot of it here); silver on the edges and endpapers for the medical instruments and table; black because I don't have grey cloth and I thought it'd contrast better with white to make the prison bars pattern.

The first difficulty was trimming and sanding the textblock. It was too thick for my ream cutter and as I said before, I'm losing my faith in it. So I trimmed each one of the 18 signatures by hand, then sanded the block with my new power sander. It took a long time and made a lot of noise, and the heat made it hard to work for long, but I'm loving this new tool. The smoothness of the edges was so satisfying.

Then I spray-painted edges for the first time. And it didn't go so well. It seemed okay, but for some reason paint still rubs off my fingers even though it's dry, so I have to be very careful when handling the book. I'm thinking of giving up acrylic paint in favor of laque spray next time.

Another thing I was apprehensive about was the straight spine. I'm a round spine guy, I have very little experience with straight ones, but it went alright! It's good! I don't think I'll make it a regular occurrence, though, I find it nerve-racking.

The last tricky thing was the cover pattern. (You can see it well in the sun if you click on the picture above.) It wasn't hard to think up or to figure out, mathematically speaking, but it was long, hard work in the July heat to cut the strips and glue them on the cover in a regular fashion. Took me hours. But it came out looking great! I did make a little mistake, though: I prepared the casing last night and I was so tired I glued the book in it by automatism, but I should have added the stripes before putting the book together.

Now, the typesetting!

I could have used a Greek theme throughout, but the minotaur myth is too modernized in this story for that, so I confined these references to the front page. A non-serif font because this is mostly Dean's POV and if you've read my previous ficbinding post, you know my feelings on that. And then bones! For the chapter headings, I used a pelvic bone that cradles the chapter number. The only chapter with a different heading is chapter 15, with the hand, for reasons obvious to those who have read the fic. And a nice femur as a divider. Really, the pelvis, hand and femur are the most important bones in The Bone Eater. The all look crisp, I'm happy with that.

Any reservations?

I wrestled with my printer a while and couldn't get it to print the right shade of red, I'll have to look into that next time.

Wow, I had a lot to say this time! It was a very interesting one, craft-wise.

Fonts: title and chapter numbers: Lethal Craze Demo, author name: Hey August, text: TT Fors Trial. All free on Dafont.

Materials: Black and white cloth from Schmedt, 2mm grey board, 70g/m² white copy paper, synthetic bookmark and headbands. Silver endpaper bought in store.

Feel free to ask me more about materials and fonts (or whatever), it won’t bother me at all to tell you what I used, I just can't think of anything else right now.

[matan4il]

Today marks 100 years since Hitler's first attempt to take over Germany by force, and 85 years since Kristallnacht, the Nazi-orchestrated pogrom that really forced Jews to realize how great the danger posed to them in Europe was.

A few years ago, I made a post with some of the updated data from research conducted in recent years, but this year, after the massacre of Oct 7, most of what I wrote doesn't feel relevant in the same way.

I'm thinking of this...

Up until that pogrom, it was a negligible Jewish minority that realized they HAD to get out, if they wanted to survive. Afterwards, as ALL Jews tried to flee, the world basically closed its doors to the Jewish refugees. Of those who got out in time, some found refuge in Israel, those who were lucky enough not to be blocked by the British, who were ruling this land at the time.

I've researched Jewish families' stories, and how they were torn apart. One youngster gets it and leaves in time. His elderly parents don't know how to start over in a different place, when being German was so embedded in their identity. They end up taking their own lives. These two single sisters make it to Israel. Their nephew writes them in Hebrew that he had dreamed at night of the whole family joining them in the Jewish homeland. He and his parents are murdered in shooting pits in Riga. A Zionist boyfriend makes it out. His girlfriend, trapped in the Lodz Ghetto, thinks back to his stories about Yossef Trumpeldor, a Jewish man who died in northern Israel in 1920, defending his community from Arab attackers, and whose last words were, "It's good to die for our country." She cries. "That's what I wanted, to die with dignity while fighting, not like this, like a human rag." She survives and joins him in Israel. To some people, she's an evil colonizer, whose rape and murder they are capable of justifying. They do so while quoting Elie Wiesel's words, about the importance of speaking up, because silence only never helps the oppressed. They're co-opting Wiesel's words, a Holocaust survivor himself, who was a Zionist, and extremely critical of Hamas.

Story after story, it's all the same. In families or communities that were split, those who got to Israel survived. For those who remained or tried a different escape route, most didn't make it (like Anne Frank's family, who fled Germany, tried to make it to the US or Cuba, were turned away repeatedly, and ended up going into hiding in the Netherlands... with only Anne's father surviving).

I am thinking about how, if there had been a State of Israel, a safe haven for Jews, that would automatically take them in when they needed to get away from the Nazis, we estimate that at least a million and a half Jews would have been saved.

I am thinking about how, there would have been a Jewish state to bomb the gas chambers in Auschwitz and save at least half a million Jews from them, instead of uselessly begging the allied leaders to.

I am thinking about how, if the allied leaders would have taken into account the political profit from cultivating an alliance with the Jewish state, that could have provided the political motivation to their begging Jewish citizens a different answer, and they would have actually done something to save at least some of the Jews.

I am thinking about how, for 80 years or so, the world has been chanting, "Never again," but when Hamas terrorists massacred the biggest number of Jews in a single day since the Holocaust, too many couldn't even condemn it. I'm thinking about how, when some justify the massacre of Israeli Jews, including Holocaust survivors and their families, most people don't tell them off. When Israel fights back to protect the rest of its population, as it swore it would (yes, "Never again" also means the right to self defense), the world condemns it, vilifying the Jews again, by depicting Israel's response as nothing but blood lust and a desire for revenge. I'm thinking... this is why we have to have Israel. So we never again are dependent on the silent world to defend our right to live. So that implementing "Never again" is never a question of whether non-Jews did more than recite the words emptily.

The massacre that took place on Oct 7 was horrific. But we saw the repetitive nature, the scale, the wide geographical spread, and the industrial nature of countless massacres that happened when there was no Israel to respond, and when no one was defending the Jews.

From 1851 (when Rabbi Avraham Shlomo Zalman Zoref was murdered on his way to synagogue in Jerusalem) to this day, less Jews died in the Arab-Israeli conflict than during just two days in the Nazi shooting pit of Baby Yar, on Sep 29 and 30, 1941. In Israel, the memorial days for the Jews murdered in the Holocaust, and for the people we lost in the Israeli-Arab conflict, are observed one week apart. The way that many here put here, the latter is to remember the price of having a state, and the former is to remember the price of not having one.

You don't have to agree with this POV. But when you look at the poisonous atmosphere cultivated online, including on Tumblr, where the Hamas massacre has been justified, or denied, or simply didn't merit a reaction, when you see how the global rise in antisemitism goes without much discussion, when you see people justifying violence towards Jews, based on a false narrative that erases entire chunks of Jewish history, at least understand where people who embrace this POV come from.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[ninzied]

kiss me once 'cause you know

in which alex sort of moves in and they don't talk about what it means. or: a cakegate never happened and then they become friends and accidental roommates au. for @rwrbmovie and @rwrbsource's rwrbweek: day 6 | kiss also on ao3. ~2k.

Of all the things they’ve been to one another—sometimes-rivals, reluctant allies, tediously cordial seatmates at international events—Henry never thought that he and Alex would end up being something like friends.

And yet here they are:

Henry, living his little gay life as Pez calls it in Brooklyn, running an LGBTQ youth shelter that’s two blocks away from David’s favorite dog park—

And Alex, earning his law degree at NYU and, apparently, looking up numbers of erstwhile princes (he’d phoned the shelter first, much to Pez’s utter delight) and asking if Henry wanted to grab a coffee sometime.

Henry had been baffled then, and, if he’s honest, even now he’s still not entirely sure he hasn’t missed something.

He brought it up, once. Many months into their—friendship?—after he was reasonably certain that it was a permanent thing, whatever it was.

Alex had shrugged. Tore off some more pita and dipped it into the labneh in front of them. “I wanted to find out if you were any less insufferable now that you’re, you know.” He glanced back up. “No longer royalty.”

“I see,” said Henry, with a customary roll of his eyes. “And what’s the verdict, then?”

Alex replied, around a mouthful of pita and a spectacularly shit-eating grin, “Jury’s still out.” His eyes were alight, either with mischief or the glow of the flickering candle between them, Henry decided he’d rather not think on too closely. “Guess we’ll have to keep seeing each other, just to know for sure.”

“Wonderful,” said Henry dryly, and Alex had laughed, and Henry had tried not to feel a certain type of way about it.

It all could be perfectly normal, you see, if not for the fact that Henry is, as ever, completely and hopelessly in love with the man.

It’s fine—really, it is—on most days.

Most days, they have dinner. Usually someplace obscure, where Henry can’t tell if the staff don’t know who they are or don’t care. Either way, they go where the food is generally excellent and where they know they won’t ever be bothered. Neither of them are public figures anymore, but maintaining some semblance of privacy seems to be an unspoken agreement between them.

Some days, when they’re meeting in Brooklyn, Alex follows him home.

There’s really no other way to describe it, because the first time it happened, Henry had literally turned right thinking Alex would go left back toward the Q; instead, he kept pace with Henry, chatting all the way to the stoop of his brownstone. Then, while Henry struggled to find the most casual way to ask if he’d like to come in, Alex was already striding inside like he lived there.

And, some days, it truly feels like he does.

Henry chalks it up to things like exam times at first.

When they aren’t talking, or watching Star Wars (bickering about Star Wars, more like), Alex is nose-deep in a textbook or furrowing his brow at yet another paper, pausing only to swig on a beer every time David barks at Paul Hollywood onscreen. As the semesters go on, the readings get longer, the papers more time-consuming, and some nights will turn into mornings where Henry finds Alex passed out on his couch and spooning the pillow that has the beagle embroidered in the center.

Henry tries his hardest not to notice nor to feel any particular way about it, but over time his living room is slowly but surely overtaken, resembling more and more the study of some kind of mad genius.

He finds Alex’s notes strewn all about, tucked into odd spaces and utterly illegible to him. Alex’s textbooks occupy every conceivable space but the shelves, some precariously balanced at the very edges of Henry’s furniture. This is how he almost winds up with a broken big toe, when David mad-dashes after a ball twice his size (“Indoors, Alex? For Christ’s sake”), and the largest bloody tome on constitutional law or some such very nearly takes Henry out as he’s walking by.

Henry lifts the book and places it much more securely in the center of the coffee table. It takes some finagling, because there are no fewer than three half-empty mugs of stale brew, one of Henry’s (tea, though, of course), a cluster of Henry’s pens because Alex can’t be bothered not to keep losing his own, and Alex’s glasses, which Alex had been searching for until he and David both got distracted by a new toy.

“You’re a menace,” says Henry.

“You love me,” grins Alex, not even looking up as he play-wrestles David and murmurs, “Good boy,” which is a very fortunate thing because Henry’s just flushed the shade of a tomato, he’s certain.

He mumbles an excuse about checking the oven—an entirely absurd claim to make, because if there are any legitimate issues he’ll simply have to come right back out and face Alex again. Alex has said he can’t be trusted in the kitchen, though from Henry’s point of view, anyone who eschews the metric system is the one who can’t be trusted.

“Remember it’s in Fahrenheit, babe,” calls Alex from the other room, and Henry promptly knocks his elbow into a stray spoon, sending it a-scatter.

That could be an absolutely normal thing to call a friend. Right?

Henry has no concept of how long he stands there, staring at the oven timer tick down. He ought to rationalize it away as best he can, but a very small, very stupid part of him wants to hope instead.

“Hey. Move over.” Alex is suddenly next to him, laughing as he nudges Henry out of the way with his hip. Henry stands frozen as Alex bends down, opening the oven door and giving the pan a testing jiggle.

“Needs a little more time,” he says, then glances at the spoon clutched in Henry’s hand. “Definitely too soon for that. Still gotta chill it overnight. Who eats cheesecake with a spoon, anyway?”

Right.

So, sometimes Alex bakes for them. Sometimes he cooks for them, too. Actually, he’s been cooking quite a lot, come to think of it. They don’t dine out much at all anymore.

It’s become increasingly difficult for Henry to not think about these sorts of things and wonder if they might mean something.

One morning, Henry comes down the stairs to the living room to find that Alex isn’t there.

He can’t actually recall the last time that happened, Alex not ending up spending the night. There’s never not some looming deadline that keeps him up at unreasonable hours, and even then they’re usually up later than that just talking to one another.

Last night Alex had definitely nodded off—refusing the spare room, as always—and he’d seemed deeply asleep when Henry, in a fit of madness or maybe he had a small stroke, who can say, had taken a blanket and tucked him carefully in before turning out the light.

Henry wonders if perhaps that was the thing to have driven Alex off in the middle of the night at last. He tries not to wonder what it could mean, whether it’s irrational for him to feel as devastated as he does, standing there, staring at the neatly folded blanket in front of him now.

Distantly, there’s a clang of something like metal on metal. It sounds as though it’s come from the kitchen.

Henry frowns. He hadn’t heard David come down the stairs after him. Which means—could it—

The clanging noise is followed by a low curse under breath, and Henry, God help him, Henry cannot breathe.

Alex is making breakfast.

He’s already dressed for the day, looking fresh-faced and several cups of coffee in judging from the trail he’s left behind on the counter. Henry ought to have noticed the aroma earlier, but the flat has smelled almost permanently of coffee ever since Alex took up unofficial residence here.

Here. He’s here. Alex is still here.

“Hi,” says Henry, still slightly dumbfounded.

“Morning, sunshine.” Alex shoots him a grin that feels like it’s pierced him straight from Eros’ bow, and Christ when did Henry get so maudlin? “I have a study group soon, but wanted to make sure you got fed before going.”

“I can feed myself, thank you,” says Henry, not terribly convincingly. Surely there must be a box of cereal here, somewhere, that can help him attest to that fact.

“Uh huh.” Alex tilts the pan of eggs onto a plate, adding several garnishes that Henry didn’t even know were in his kitchen’s possession. “Listen, I know you Brits are adverse to flavor, but don’t forget the hot sauce this time, okay?”

“You are determined to give me heartburn,” says Henry, not a little bit wistfully, because Alex truly has no clue.

“You know it.” Alex winks at him while loading the dishwasher. “Tea’s in the cupboard. Got the one you like from that bougie place in West Village, ‘cause that’s just the kind of guy I am.” He straightens, brushing off his hands, already on the move, always on the move. “We still on for the museum social?”

“Oh, yes,” says Henry, cheering considerably at the thought. He has his outfit planned and everything, down to the tie that Alex had gotten for his birthday last year. “Looking forward to it.”

“All right. I’ll see you tonight,” says Alex, and then he’s leaning in as he walks past, one hand cupping Henry’s jaw, his lips touching briefly to Henry’s cheek. Like it’s something he always does—like this is how they’ve said goodbye every morning, how they will say goodbye every morning—and this is it. Henry is simply done for.

It’s over so quickly that Alex is already halfway to the foyer before the thought occurs to Henry that perhaps he’s just imagined the whole thing.

The front door opens and closes. Somewhere he can hear David puttering around, nosing into his food bowl that Alex must have refilled earlier, and yes, it must not have been real. How else could he explain Alex making him breakfast, feeding his dog, kissing him and then walking away like everything hasn’t been utterly and irrevocably changed between them?

Henry is still standing there, trying to recall how to breathe, when the door opens again. And then Alex is there, standing in front of him, and Henry can do this. He wills himself to make it so.

Their eyes meet.

“Hey.” Alex hovers in place for a moment. His expression is fairly neutral, but he’s gone uncharacteristically still. Henry doesn’t think he’s ever seen him stand so still before. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”

Well. That answers that, then.

Henry struggles to swallow. “It’s all right,” he finally manages to say. It is, in fact, the furthest thing from all right. “No harm done.” Every harm has been done, actually, and Henry doesn’t know which part is worse—that Alex hadn’t meant to kiss him, or that Alex is saying he’s sorry he did. “I know you didn’t mean anything by it. We don’t have to—”

“No—Henry. That’s not what I’m saying.”

“It’s—” Henry swallows again. He can’t seem to recall how to put words side by side anymore. “No?”

Alex shakes his head. He takes one, then another, step closer. His eyes are bright with something that Henry almost doesn’t dare hope to read. Something warm. Something burning.

“I didn’t mean to do it like that,” Alex says. “Because it does mean something.” Henry doesn’t think he’s imagined the way Alex’s voice has cracked at the end. “It means everything, Henry, and I’d really like to do it right this time.”

“Oh,” says Henry, breathlessly. “Yes. Yes, go on then.”

Alex is already striding forward before he’s even finished speaking.

He takes Henry’s face in his hands, and then Alex’s mouth is on his, warm and hungry and wanting. Henry’s lips part, a soft groan escaping Alex’s throat as their tongues meet and slide together, and it’s everything that Henry never thought could be his until now.

His. Alex is his.

Henry buries his hands in Alex’s hair, gripping there in counterpoint to the way he presses his body up against his, trying to get closer. When they part, they’re both gasping a little, Alex’s forehead pressed against his as the air between them starts to settle.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for so long,” says Alex, voice low and heated all over.

Henry smiles. “Darling,” he murmurs, leaning in to kiss him again. “You have no idea.”

[mrs-monaghan]

Since we're going by the logic of Jikook are not seen in public together = they have broken up, then my sister's relationship with her husband, who she has a literal child with, is FAKE, because I never see them in public!!!!!! They don't go out! So fake! Outrageous! How ABSURD it is for a long-term couple to want PRIVACY!!!! How dare my sister go out with me/be seen with me in public and not her boyfriend! How dare she have other people in her life!

How even more FLABBERGASTING that a worldwide famous long-term couple living in a homophobic country want to hang out in a totally safe and private way for them! It doesn't matter that their career could end and they could even be arrested, and it doesn't matter that photos of them on white day were leaked, exposing them in an intimate moment, and it doesn't matter that their names were on Dispatch's list, together with other couples that admitted they were together.

HOW DARE Jungkook and Jimin not make out in front of the cameras for us???? How dare Jungkook and Jimin try to protect their privacy after so many leaked pictures and all the stalking?

That's how stupid y'all wishy washy Jikookers and taekookers sound. Babes do you REALLY think Jungkook and Jimin always tell us truth? Do you really think they tell us EVERYTHING that goes on in their lives?

Shouldn't y'all take Taennie as an example? They were going out for God knows how long and they were NEVER spotted. Sure, leaked pictures here and there, which Jikook also have, but they've never seen in public together, either.

It's time y'all use the brains god gave you. Don't be scared of it, yeah? USE IT.

Do you really think they tell us EVERYTHING?

I wanna talk about this. This goes out to the holier than though Jikookers out there who judge us other Jikookers who still believe that the JM on JK's hand is for Jimin.

Anon I agree with you 1013%. Please allow me to hijack your post an address this topic.

Okay so JK went live and said the J stands for Jungkook. Right. I ended up in report pages for saying this on twitter but I will say it again. How many people do you know that tattoo their own names on themselves? No seriously. How many? I said even the most narcissistic person wouldn't do this and I got blocked and reported. But it's true. JK is not a narcissist, far from it even. He has a big heart and loves those around him and loves us Army even when we don't deserve it. That man did not tattoo his name on himself. That's point number 1.

Point 2. Who tf calls him J? He calls himself JK, members call him JK. Everyone calls him JK. The only member we've heard tell us to call him J was Jhope and I think that was "Jay"

Point 3 and what I wanna talk about. No, I'm not calling JK a liar. I am calling him an omiter. He ommited the truth. The point of him explaining the tattoos I believe was to debunk the V/A. Which he did, thank God. But I digress.

Being a Jikooker is based on deducing and analysing. Listening to them, watching them and concluding they're together. They have never outright told us. Alright?

Jimin said, he bit JK.

Jikookers said it was a hickey. Because its right by the mole. Because it didn't fade. Because there were no teeth marks. Okay. Fine. But why do we believe the J stands for Jungkook, but we won't believe when Jimin said he bit JK and no shenanigans were involved?

Jungkook said he goes to Jimin's hotel room because its closer.

Jikookers said it was a lie. He goes because he wants to spend time with Jimin. And he doesn't just sit there for hours and do nothing. He was lying. So why do we believe the J stands for Jungkook, but we won't believe he went to Jimin's room out of convenience?

Jungkook said Jimin wasn't the main model of GCF.

Jikookers said that can't possibly be true because JK highlights Jimin in all the videos and Jimin always gets the most screentime. Okay. So why do we believe the J stands for Jungkook, but we won't believe when he said Jimin wasn't his main model?

JK said he always sleeps in Jihope's room because his bed is uncomfortable.

Jikookers said nah, JK just likes sleeping with Jimin. JK sleeps in that room because he's dating Jimin. They had enough money to get JK a better mattress, so that was clearly just an excuse. So why do we believe the J is for Jungkook, but we didn't believe when he said his own bed was uncomfortable?

JK said he's always recording Jimin because Jimin is always around

Jikookers said that wasn't true because anytime JK has a camera, more often than not he's pointing it at Jimin. Even when sometimes Jimin doesn't notice. So clearly JK was lying. Right? So why do we believe the J is for Jungkook, but we didn't believe JK's reason for why he's always filming Jimin?

Have i made my point yet???

"The J stands for Jungkook, JK said so."

Be quiet.

If you believe that then you might as well stop believing in Jikook rn because these mofos have never told us they were gay for eo. We concluded that after mountains of suspicious moments and unexplainable sexual tension. We concluded. They didn't tell us.

And if you wanna still believe in Jikook then get off your fucking high horse where you nitpick what to buy and judge those of us who wanna believe in the JM tattoo or Jikook numbers or Jikook dropping eo off at the airport. There are clearly levels of Jikookery but everyone needs to stay in their lane and stop judging. You just come off looking like a fucking hypocrite. We don't all have to think or see things the same way.

The JM stands for Jimin. Otherwise he would have left his tattoos like this.

Rant over. I'm done. But I needed to get that off my chest. Anyway, Jikook is real. Amen.

Support Jikook for clear skin

[cammslush]

6REEZE; each member has their own special and adorable darling (but you don't know they think that way about you) - Part 2

-----

Content warning(s): Yandere themes (overprotectiveness, possessiveness)

Let me know if I missed anything.

-----

Part II: Center - Aether

"We're having a concert today, I'm sure you know. It's going to be live on our YouTube, please watch it there instead."

Aether tried his best to hide his signature golden strands of hair from the light, underneath his dark hood. He speaks quietly into the receiver of the payphone conveniently just a few blocks from the concert venue. But with him being pretty much the face of 6REEZE…

"Hey, I recognize that golden hair anywhere! Is that…?"

"Sorry, talk to you after the show. Bye."

It was almost an impossible task trying to keep a low profile.

You were a strange-fated soul who met Aether during a photoshoot for a magazine. Well, he was hard to ignore. The brightest member of 6REEZE, that was him!

"I'm ____, pleasure to be your acquaintance," you held out your pretty hand to him. Why did you introduce your name? He already knew who you were: an actor. But some part in his heart sort of…thumped, at the thought of you saying your name.

It's a very common thing for celebrities to meet in joint projects. It's also a common thing for said celebrities to become close friends…or even fall in love.

"No…I shouldn't fall in love. I can't fall in love…" Aether almost wanted to rip his heart out the same day he met you. Idols always sing love songs, but they are not allowed to love. So then…

Why? Why does his heart beat so quickly whenever he thinks of you? Why is it that his chest hurts everytime he sees your face in an advertisement, or your acting in some unpopular movie? Why, why, why…

But he can't just leave you in his "list of merely recognizable people", not after you offered so much company and kindness.

“I met Aether from 6REEZE during a photoshoot once,” you carelessly said in an interview, “And then we actually became friends! He’s actually a pretty nice person! And his hair looks way brighter in person. Go watch their live concerts to see it for yourself!”

Do actors live in a different world from idols? You’re so good at acting in shows, from what he can tell. Why can’t you act like you have never met him before?

Don’t you get it? Your adorable face will get mauled by a horde of crazy idol fans if you admit that! He can’t let that happen!

Venti is so careless, he lets the existence of his "bestest friend" be known to the public with such little care of their wellbeing — Aether is different! He isn't careless one bit.

Despite being your friend, you really have no actual way of contacting him besides a phone number that he asked you to memorize, and he also asked you not to ever input this number on your personal phone. You thought it was a little strange, but heeded his requests nonetheless. Perhaps it was a strange tradition.

But Aether isn't mean to you or anything, yes? He is one of the nicest, brightest people you've ever met in your life! He'd never want you to get hurt, that's the whole point of his actions.

He himself has perfectly memorized all of your information, like your phone number, or your address. It's only, purely because he believes he isn't allowed to save any of that info on his phone, not because he feels the need to know every single little detail about you.

It would be bad if any fan found out about his close association with another celebrity, right? The only, only option left is to store everything about you safely inside his mind.

Under absolutely no circumstances should anyone know you exist in his life.

That is knowledge available only to him.

"Aether, I was recruited to act in an advertisement, and they're still looking for more actors. Marketing opportunity for 6REEZE! Just say the word and I can recommend anyone who's interested to the Director," you spoke to him over the payphone.

Aether wanted to smack himself for how much he misses hearing your voice. It was hard to tell his inner conflicts, thanks to his bright and sunny outer image.

Looks like there's no other choice, "I just asked, buuut no one else is interested, so I'll take any role."

He cannot even allow his fellow 6REEZE members know.

"Oh, okay. Also, I'm watching the concert at home. Everything you guys did was so cool! Especially at the song 'Let the Wind Lead'...My Archon, all I can say is you guys shone very brightly."

Aether wants to keep hearing you talk. But at the same time…

"Yeah…The intermission is about to end. Let's stop here," without even telling you, he hung up the phone and promptly deleted the conversation from his contact history.

With a sigh, he left the break room.

No, no…he can't let what happened to Lumine be repeated with you. Nobody deserves that.

It's not because solely his attention should be on you — "get your head back on track, Aether!" It's because you'll be in grave danger if anyone else found out. He's told himself time and time again, someone as precious as you should never be laid a finger on.

If anything did happen to you, he might as well as die right then and there with you.

"...Aether? Hello?" You spoke on the other end, confused.

You're such a great actor, aren't you? He knows, he's watched almost every piece of film or advertisement you've played a role in, no matter how unpopular the show, no matter how insignificant the role.

So please, act like you've never heard of 6REEZE. Act like you've never even heard of Aether, in public.

That way he can have you all for himself!

[fireflysummers]

Final Thoughts on GO S2

I'm probably gonna pull back on discussing S2, at least publicly, after this. I did actually like a lot of the season, but it's triggering some of my religious trauma and also the fandom is already stressing me out. So here, let's have some final thoughts.

First and foremost: I am not a Gaiman simp. I've read a decent amount of his work: comics, short stories, essays, and novels. Aside from Good Omens, I've liked Coraline and The Graveyard Book the best by far, whereas American Gods just. Did Not Connect with me, even though it's should have, given the stuff I tend to enjoy.

However. Regardless of whether I like a given work (or even like how he adapted it, a la parts of The Sandman TV series), he is a veteran writer who has proven that he does, actually, know how to write a story with consistent characters.

Beyond that, I do actually believe that he's trying to do right by Pratchett, and loves and respects the story and characters they created together. He's generally shown up as an ally to a variety of social causes, and directly and respectfully responds to fans on Tumblr. While no saint, I feel that there is cause to give the benefit of the doubt that things will resolve satisfyingly in S3, and that there is Intention about some of the things in S2.

This, of course, does not absolve it of being "bad," but even here I think we need to articulate better the different types of "bad" that people are reacting to. There seems to roughly be three camps here: 1) People who thought it was "bad" because of how it ended, with the breakup and a lot of unresolved plot threads; 2) People who thought it was "bad" because it struggled on a technical level with its set, lighting, directorial choices, editing, etc; 3) People who thought it was "bad" because they felt the characterization was significantly off and that the internal logic of the series had been violated.

With regards to Point One, the only solution is to Wait and See. Judgement should be reserved until the story is properly finished--easier said than done, especially considering the current media landscape, and the number of series or franchises that fail to live up to their promises.

Point Two isn't something I understand well enough to contribute meaningfully, except that I suspect the pandemic affected this aspect the most and am willing to give it a bit more mercy. That aside, I for the most part I don't find it bad so much as not as good as S1. Except for the parts with epilepsy warnings, surely there could've been a better way to do that.

Point Three... that's the stumbling block for me, and I find it interesting that most of the folks who struggle with this point in particular are long time fans of the book.

I trust that instinct.

There are two different directions to go from here. The first is the assumption that these problems are a result of ego, carelessness, or lack of skill from the showrunners/writers/director. It's cynical but not unjustified. The second is the belief that the breaks in lore or characterization were intentional, building towards a much grander conspiracy. Of course, even in this case I don't think it forgives the lack of signposting that would indicate that this is a choice rather than an accident. It just makes it feel clumsy and poorly constructed, a major risk on a show that hasn't had its third season confirmed.*

However, regardless, it still feels salvageable. I've enjoyed reading a lot of meta on all this, and I've pulled some things from others (particularly That Theory by @ariaste), but I don't really want to put forth a single, defined theory myself. Instead, here's some questions I've got, why those questions are important (to me, at least). Actual theorizing comes after, and anybody who snidely mentions Sherlock in the comments or tags is going to get auto-blocked. Like seriously, I'm aware that some stuff is a stretch, but it's fun??? To theorize????? And I'm here for me and my peace of mind rather than trying to argue a point.

*I have some suspicions here, particularly with Gaiman stating that the decision from Amazon would come much faster than The Sandman's second season (which was four months). I don't know enough though to say if that's actually significant.

Questions

Who the fuck is telling this story?

This is the most important piece, in my opinion. There's this assumption when reading books (or research papers, newspapers, etc...) that the narrator who is writing the words is a non-presence, Neutral and objective. That's not the case, and an important part of literature critique is figuring out who the narrator is, and what their goals are. Oftentimes, the narrator and the author are the same person, but with Pratchett's work, particularly on Good Omens and Discworld, the Narrator was its own unique character.

This is why people struggle adapting Discworld to live action--that medium requires a Reason for having a Narrator, and especially in the age of method acting that's often considered immersion-breaking. Good Omens worked so well because they not only kept the Narrator, but they made Her God.

This added some really interesting new dimensions, such as the scene where Crowley speaks to God about his fall and the destruction of humanity. He doesn't receive an answer, but we're watching from God's perspective, so we as the audience know that She's listening.

Another advantage of making God the Narrator is that it justifies all the goofy little asides we get into the lives of minor characters (i.e. Leslie the Mailman), without losing focus. It helps the world feel like it’s full of people, rather than characters and plot contrivances, and the theme that individual people and their choices are important. The Narrator is such a central character of Good Omens that without it, the story struggles to stay focused.

It also highlights a key difference in the writing styles of the two authors. Pratchett’s work tends to introduce four or five totally unique plot threads that feel completely disjointed until the last act (if not even later), when it turns into a Chekhov’s Firing Squad. Plot twists around secret identities and backstabbing and schemes are relatively rare, as the omniscient Narrator doesn’t lie about the intentions of people or their actions.

Gaiman’s writing is typically not like that, to my knowledge. He buries characters in misdirection and hints, and you never know the true identity or motives until all the chips are down. It’s a perfectly valid way to approach storytelling, but it makes it jarring to see it in S2. The lack of a Narrator is a huge reason why S2 doesn’t feel like Good Omens to some folks.

My gut feeling is that the decision to shift from the original Narrator was highly intentional. It helps to obscure the thoughts and intentions of people, and it also muddles the insights that we’re supposed to take away. (I would have loved hearing God monologue about what’s going on in Jim’s head. I think it’d do a lot to make him seem less.... obnoxiously stupid.)

More than that, it brings up a reasonable potential plot point of: Where did God go? Why isn’t She present in the story? Even in her early appearance in the Job flashback, she doesn’t sound like the narrator for last season. After the first part of her speech (which Gabriel later quotes), her tone turns casual and condescending, which might line up with her being a bit of an asshole, it doesn’t line up with the whole “dealer of a mysterious card game who is always smiling”).

Also, I don’t think it’s safe to assume that nobody is telling the story either. Just because they’re not making their presence known doesn’t mean they aren’t there, and in a story like Good Omens, that’s concerning.

Wait, where's Satan?

Another person I saw while scrolling the tags pointed out that Satan is nowhere to be seen this season. He's really only mentioned in reference to a bet God made in Job, but then Crowley is the one on the ground causing mischief. There's no Hail Satan among demons (like Hastur and Ligur did at the start of S1).

That's might be because the writers didn't want us to think it was important (a la Hastur), but that feels off. Given that Satan speaks directly through the radio to Crowley in S1, complimenting him on his work, it's safe to say that he was at least aware of and involved in the goings-on in Hell. The fact that he wasn't even an worry for Beelzebub in abandoning their post? Feels weird.

(Also if you know where that post is, I'll happy credit + link)

What is Maggie?

Look, I love cute lesbians in love as much as the next queer, but I don't like Maggie. I don’t think she’s a person. Contextually, she’s a plot device, but I agree with That Essay that she might be an actual Plot Device.

Her characterization is simple and relatively shallow—a bit of an airhead, ray of sunshine that’s supposed to remind you of Aziraphale. When she describes her past to Nina, it’s almost robotic (also, her story implies it was Mr. Fell who first rented to her ancestor, not Mr. Fell’s great-grandfather like Nina implied). Her emotions are over-dramatic and seem to be turned on and off at random (scenes with her crying to Aziraphale about her woes had my “manipulator” senses going off for some reason).

When asked about a song, she not only IDs the song, its singer, and its year, but how and on what it was distributed. (Honestly thought this would’ve been something interesting, because she’s been pretty ditzy so far, it’d be interesting if she had like... an insane memory for music history.) And then she’s the one that sets Aziraphale on his little investigation by giving him the transformed records, while also planting the seed about her love troubles with Nina. Later, her advice to Crowley is... not awful, but feels insincere and a bit too forward, given her own self-proclaimed lack of relationship experience.

I don’t know what she is (a demon, hastur with amnesia in disguise, a literal plot device inserted by the current storyteller, etc...), but there’s something not right with her.

(Also the joke of “who listens to records anymore, it’s so old fashioned” just doesn’t land, lots of people buy records, and I’m saying this as somebody who has worked at a record store before.)

What's going on with Aziraphale?

There’s something Off about Aziraphale, and it’s not his choices at the end of the season. That makes total sense if you read him as somebody with severe religious trauma getting dragged back into the abusive system because other people need him and he’s been promised the ability to change things.

But I do think something is happening to his memory. Nearly all the flashbacks are from Aziraphale’s point of view and retelling, which means that they’re less reliable than God’s version of events in the previous season. Many of them don’t make logistical sense (post-church scene in 1941), depict Crowley as meaner or more sinister than we know he is, or frame events... weirdly. The scene with him trying food for the first time feels Really Bad, especially when the series has previously established that he’s a) prim and proper and b) his interest in food is one of the beautiful things that connect him to humanity, not some kind of gluttonous sin. Also he turns down alcohol.

Their meet-cute at the  start of the universe also doesn’t line up with their reactions to each other in Eden, or the fact that knowing each other Before has never come up or been hinted at anywhere ever. I don’t know what’s causing this to happen, only that Aziraphale repeatedly looks pensive when coming out of flashbacks, and Crowley is never there afterwards to corroborate said memories.

His actions also seem pretty inconsistent with what we know of him—i.e. I refuse to believe he would ever mistreat his books, even if they’re just old encyclopedias. Also, he feels a bit too...forceful in trying to get Nina and Maggie to fall in love? I mean, he didn’t exert that much direct influence on even Warlock, when he was actively hoping that the boy would turn out angelic rather than neutral.

I don’t think this removes his agency in that last decision, so much as explains how he was in such a vulnerable place at all. He still needs to apologize and fix things, because he messed up, and even if he hadn’t he still seriously hurt Crowley.

What's going on with Crowley?

There’s something Off about Crowley. The most obvious thing, of course, is his memories. At multiple points in the present day, characters state that they remember him or have met him before, only to be met with confusion. This is especially concerning given that he has a nigh photographic memory for faces (something mentioned in the book when he immediately IDs Mary Loquacious, 11 years after a 30 second conversation).

Overall, he seems to be better known by other supernatural entities this season, in ways that often tie him back to his angelic identity (i.e. saying they fought together in the war, Aziraphale stating he knew the angel he used to be, etc...). This doesn’t feel right, because S1 we see that Hell is largely apathetic towards his schemes, and definitely does not defer to him at any point in any capacity.

Then there’s the issue of his power level. It’s always been speculated that Crowley was a powerful angel prior to falling, when he mentions in S1 his involvement with star making, his seemingly unique ability to freeze time, and creating a pocket universe for Adam before the confrontation with Satan. He also has a tendency of breathing life into inanimate objects, like his plants or car. He also has the regular demonic skillset: miracles that can adjust physical appearance; the ability to change inanimate objects (like paintball guns into real guns); the ability to manifest clothing and similar items; and summon hellfire to his fingertips. This, plus the way he monologues to God with a degree of familiarity rather than reverence seems to indicate that he was Somebody Powerful and Important Before.

But in S2, his skills are significantly expanded upon. The miracle he and Aziraphale summon sets off alarms in heaven and hell, and it’s powerful enough to mask Gabriel from the Archangels. He summons a miniature sun to rain fire on Job, which is way bigger and flashier than anything we’ve seen him summon in S1. (If he needs fire, he alters the course of a dropping bomb, without creating one himself.)

Yet he’s able to cloak his presence so well he goes wholly unnoticed in heaven, or in front of heavenly agents on earth (i.e. the Job flashback). Muriel can’t clock him as a demon, or even as another supernatural being, despite their auras usually being pretty significant, such Aziraphale immediately sensing the archangels when they arrive.  He’s able to interfere with files that Muriel claimed required clearance (although I feel like that might just be a snark about Obeying Without Thinking? I would really need a Narrator to know.)

I might be misremembering, but I don’t think we’ve seen angels or demons transmogrify living beings before either. In the book, Crowley brings Aziraphale’s dove back to life after the failed magic show, and occasionally sinks ducks, but he doesn’t alter them? Not even Adam demonstrates that skill in S1. But he has no trouble turning Job’s children into lizards, however temporarily. Boy that would’ve been convenient during the flood. Or when the guard stopped then from getting to the air strip.

I might be misremembering, but I don’t think we’ve seen angels or demons transmogrify living beings before either. In the book, Crowley brings Aziraphale’s dove back to life after the failed magic show, and occasionally sinks ducks, but he doesn’t alter them? Not even Adam demonstrates that skill in S1. But he has no trouble turning Job’s children into lizards, however temporarily. Boy that would’ve been convenient during the flood. Or when the guard stopped then from getting to the air strip.

I don’t have any real issues with his characterization in the present day parts of S2, but there’s something weird happening with Crowley.

Where's all the people?

I really like a lot of the new characters, but how were there only like, 2.5 new humans named in the present day? Flashbacks don’t count bc the humans are all dead and can’t affect the story.

As much as I like Nina, she and Maggie don’t drive the story beyond being an occasional and awkwardly inserted plot contrivance? Both are actively robbed of their agency at several points, forced into situations that they could not have avoided or escaped. I’m not really sure what growth they’re expected to experience other than deciding not to date each other after everything. I literally can’t tell you anything about Nina other than that she remembers her regular’s orders, runs a coffee shop, and has a textbook abusive partner we never see. The only meaningful interactions they have are between those two, or in conversation with Aziraphale and Crowley.

Compare that to S1, where Anathema gets hit by Aziraphale and Crowley, but her primary relationships are with Newt, Adam, and Agnes Nutter (I think that counts as a relationship). We know that she’s got a wealthy family back in Puerto Rico, and that she was literally raised to save the world, and that she isn’t happy under all that pressure. Newt on the other hand is connected to not just Anathema, but Shadwell and Madame Tracy. He never even directly interacts with Aziraphale and Crowley. We know about his hobbies, his struggle to hold down a job, and his almost supernatural ability to destroy any electronics he touches. I don’t necessarily like how their relationship came together, but they were both very, very well fleshed out characters with unique backstories and goals. They weren’t just... waiting around to give Aziraphale and Crowley a new questline.

And while there’s no requirement to include a large cast of human characters that are exerting influence over the story, the lack of it is another aspect that makes this season feel not like Good Omens.

Also, it's just. Really weird to me that the events of S1 aren't really referenced at all? Like, Adam isn't mentioned, nor is Warlock. I don't expect them to keep track of the humans they met on the airfield for 20 minutes, but none of it is ever specifically referenced as far as I can tell, beyond Crowley threatening Gabriel. Like, I get that it's been a few years, but the pair caused a big enough disturbance that you'd expect some kind of ripples in their supernatural communities.

Promised by the Narrative (Obvious Chekhov's guns that I will be legitimately upset over if they do not go off)

A sincere apology from Aziraphale to Crowley that doesn't come with the expectation that Crowley will come back to him, but because he deserves an apology, even if the choices Aziraphale made were done with good intentions. Aziraphale does not expect forgiveness, and is shocked when Crowley grants it without hesitation.

A clear declaration of love from Aziraphale, which can't be rationalized away by either of them.

An "I'm Sorry" dance between Aziraphale and Crowley, but with greater sincerity and gravity. The most important piece is that they end up dancing together, which signifies a mutual apology and dedication to come together.

Since kissing is on the table, I expect an actual joyful, mutual kiss between these two assholes.

A shared cottage in South Downs.

Predictions/Theories (just some fun thoughts I've had)

When Adam declared that Satan was not his father, he didn't make himself not the antichrist, but accidentally crowned his human dad the King of Hell. Nobody knows this, because Adam doesn't have a good measure for "normal" supernatural situations, and Mr. Young because he's so "normal" that he explains away all the magical bullshit that's started going down.

When Adam declared that Satan was not his father, he erased Satan altogether. However, this left a vacuum in both power and reality. The defection of both Gabriel and Beelzebub only widens that crack. In an attempt to Fix things, reality is warping the story. Crowley has become leagues more powerful between S1 and S2, as the narrative is trying to force him into the role of his previous boss. Aziraphale is unknowingly being pulled into a similar version on the Other Side, perhaps to replace Gabriel or perhaps to replace God herself, who has been fairly absent in all this. The alterations to their memories or past have come about to keep the narrative running smoothly.

When the Metatron asks Nina whether anybody has ever asked for death, he was actually referring to Death, the sole remaining rider of the apocalypse.

If Maggie is indeed a Plot Device, it would be a fascinating exploration of Free Will to see her become aware of this (cue existential crisis), and then fall in love with Nina on her own terms, rather than because she was written that way.

Hastur will be back. Somehow.

The reason why S2 focuses so much on the supernatural characters is because S3 will be about how the events in S1 have changed the political landscape of heaven and hell. Angels are questioning their roles, demons are yearning for something more. It's scaring upper administration, and then the two most reliable folks in employment run away to alpha centauri. Recruiting Aziraphale and getting him back in line prevents him from becoming a martyr, control the range of his influence. The series reasserts its theme of choice and agency by highlighting that Aziraphale and Crowley aren't that special, they've just had the chance to live and grow, and that the others have free will too, if they want it.

The reason why they wanted to separate Aziraphale and Crowley, is not to get Aziraphale on his own, but to get Crowley on his own. He literally stopped time and made a pocket universe in front of Satan last season. He's powerful and dangerous and somebody wants to see that reigned in.

Wishlist (stuff I desperately want to see)

Crowley getting an audience with God and an opportunity to ask his questions, only to refuse to do so because he's found his own Answers and he no longer needs hers

Aziraphale and Crowley growing more into their book incarnations. Aziraphale becomes confident in his sense of morality, which he developed the hard way through millennia on earth besides humanity. He slowly learns what it means to be loved, unconditionally, but also is better at asserting and maintaining his boundaries. Crowley, still anxious and unwinding, works through his fear of abandonment, providing him opportunities to be kind and gentle and nurturing--all traits that he's aggressively hid since being a demon.

Hand holding. I know that Gaiman was referring to Ineffable Bureaucracy, but I still feel like we'd benefit from meaningful hand holding, especially since that got cut from the adaptation of the book.

Shifted focus away from the supernatural shenanigans, and back onto the humans that actually drive the story.

Cameos from S1 characters (if not a more substantial appearance).

The Four Other Riders of the Apocalypse.

Cursed Thoughts (why I shouldn't be allowed a social platform)

Ineffable Bureaucracy turns up in season 3 because Beelzebub got Gabriel pregnant somehow.

[not-goldy]

No matter what Jk does some ppl will. never. be satisfied. They will always twist what he says, what he does, especially when it comes to Jimin. It will never be enough. Like, he could literally kiss him on cam they’d still say he wasn’t into it, didn’t French kiss him but just gave him a quick peck or whatever so it means he was just doing the bare minimum blah blah blah. They could even fuck for the whole world to see they’d manage to scrutinize his thrusts and the number of sweat drops falling down his back to say he was just doing it out of curtosy lmao. If Jk and Jikook don't satisfy you why keeping up with him? Seriously, why do ppl are so keen to waste their time like this if they don’t enjoy the content they’re engaging with? 2024 is right around the corner y’all, time to check your priorities… life is short, donˋt waste it. As for me, I'm so relieved these two will have each other for the next 18 months! I can't wait for the Jikook Show, it’s going to be epic, I don’t think we’re ready lmao

Forget them, they just trolling 🤣 🤣🤣🤣🤣

This what they sent in 😹😹😹😹😹😹😹😹

The jealousy and envy disguised as criticism.

They are just like Tuktukkers. They deliberately act blind and dumb and belittle JK's efforts and contributions so it's easier for them to hate on him.

"Jk couldn't attend Face promos" said with a dumb smug face in the same sentence as "just because he sings all JMs songs on his live- to promote his music to his unique fans, boost his reach, generate sales from the free ad and marketing- doesn't mean he supports him."

Naaa he should have sent a coffee truck that makes JM no money, sent food and flowers- that makes JM no money in sales for his Album whatsoever- That would have been so much better if he wanted to support JMs Album than him actually promoting his songs on live

Same people who complain Army doesn't buy Jms songs or stream his music. Same persons.

Jungkook is a sold out King and people will die to have him promote their content on his highly engaging lives- but nooooo that's not an asset to them when it comes to supporting Jm. Nope.

Even though he's shown time and again that's his way of supporting those he loves. His brother starts a business and he jumps right on live wearing his merch. Did he not get in trouble for that?

Jimin does a documentary and who shows up out of the blue to support him? Mic'd and all

Jimin is practicing for his MV and who shows up to watch and support him then too?

They call Jimin daddy but won't get off JKs Dick.

Hobi is adorable and we all want a sunshine like him- but he's so supportive Jimin chose Jungkook to do MS with 🥺

Talk of being there for Jimin🤭

And it's crazy they keep craving what others have when those others also want what Jungkook is and does for Jimin. You think Tuktukkers would be superimposing Taes face on Jikook moments if they were happy with Tuktukks dynamics?

Flowers and food- when we all know who is constantly eating with Jimin, pressuring Jimin to go out and eat with him, the one who BTS themselves call Jimin's chef,

the one doing cooking shows with him is not Hobi

It's almost as if they don't watch any content from BTS other than snippets from Twitter.

Watch Sope, Bon Voyage, Run, Episodes, lives- in full not the edits sir.

We here have a whole Ramen joke running in the Fandom because that's all JK keeps saying he eats with JM. The food buddies. Whenever Jungkook posts food you'd find JM in the comments somewhere reminiscing.

Those flowers and food gave him strength- bitch bye.

When it comes to gift giving, bts have ever complained the one person Jungkook gifts is Jimin prompting them to tease him that Jimin was his favorite out of the group.

Nevermind the snow block he went out to the mountains and brought back for him. We know in this Fandom Jungkook tones things down with Jimin when it comes onto gifts cos he'd kiss and tell and act a fool. It's common Fandom knowledge so I know he is not trying to imply Jungkook does nothing for JM.

That's toxic solo street slang rooted in fiction.

Watch content for yourself and spare us the rubbish.