#[ god. it just angers me so much that this is something that i have to write. ]

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

To love me better

Tags: Yakuza Lord!Sukuna x fem!Reader, american!Reader, forced/arranged marriage, dark romance trope, dead dove, age gap romance (reader is around 21-22, Sukuna is 37), cursing, suggestive language, use of nicknames like “doll” and “angel”, use of y/n, NSFW, MDNI, Sukuna is his own warning, description of violence including murder.

Synopsis: Yakuza Lord!Sukuna owns all of entertainment district. You’re trying to work to put yourself through law school. He has a proposition for you, and you have one for him. Chaos ensues.

An: Toji has entered the chat. I wonder who else will make an appearance. Hey, so this part is pretty short. I’m sorry. I just need to find my groove again.

Part one. | Part two. | Part three. | Part four. | Part five.

*art creds for sukuna image goes to @.maru6 here on tumblr

The sound of the gunshot rung in your ears.

The restaurant was painfully quiet. Before the gunshot, you hadn’t even realized that it was nearing closing time. Almost all of the patrons had left besides the man who your future husband just murdered.

“Get over here,” Sukuna ordered lowly over the phone. He pulled the cellular device away from his ear, and he tapped the end call button.

His eyes slid over towards your trembling form, and he raised an eyebrow as if to challenge you to say something.

Your throat was painfully dry as you looked up at him. Why did you actually believe he’d keep you out of his business?

With another snap from his fingers, the waiter reappeared at his side. His face paled as his took in the grizzly scene at the booth right behind you.

Sukuna handed over the gun to the waiter. “Get rid of it.”

“Yes boss,” the waiter responded mechanically with a small bow. He then scurried off to god only knows where.

This had to be a nightmare. Surely, he didn’t just kill someone right in front of you.

Your body was still shaking, but the adrenaline was slowly tapering down, being replaced with anger. “How could you? We just made a deal, signed a contract, everything!”

Sukuna looked over at you, and he scoffed a small laugh. “I believe I remember telling you that I would keep you out of my life as much as possible. This was non-negotiable.”

“You killed a man right in front of me! I’m an accessory to murder, dammit.” Tears brimmed in your waterline.

“Technically, I killed a man behind your back, kitten. You never actually saw me pull the trigger, now did you? Who’s to say I was even the one who killed him?”

Your eyes widened in horror as he was playing semantics with you. He just put this permanent necklace collar around your throat and immediately went back on his promise.

You looked away from him, unable to truly deal with him right now.

Footsteps emerged from the open part of the restaurant, and you glanced over nervously. What if it was a cop? Surely, the authorities have been alerted? All of the kitchen staff can’t be in on this.

Instead of an officer, a tall beefy man with muscles bigger than your head, black hair, and green eyes walked up. He had a scar on the corner of his lip and a lazy smirk on his face.

“Took you long enough, Zenin,” Sukuna quipped as he pulled out his phone.

“Calling me a Zenin is about as accurate as calling you an Itadori.” The man had a raspy voice and a nonchalant attitude as he casually strolled into the restaurant. Your eyebrows furrowed, contemplating the name he had mentioned. Itadori. Where have you heard that name before? “What do we have here?”

“He’s a grunt of the Gojo Clan. I’m honestly disgusted that he sent someone as incompetent as him to tail me.”

“I was talking about the pretty one who’s still alive,” the man said, slowly eyeing you up and down. “What’s a cute little thing like you doing here?”

Your jaw slightly dropped as he casually flirted with you as if there wasn’t a dead man behind you. Before you could even think of a response, your future husband decided to speak up.

“You’re gonna end up like the bastard with a bullet hole in his head if you keep flirting with my wife, Zenin.” His jaw hardened, staring down at the other man.

“Oh? So it’s like that, huh?” he asked, not losing the smirk. “My mistake then, Misses Sukuna.”

You thought better than to respond based off the look Sukuna gave you.

The Zenin man strolled closer towards the lifeless body with an air of aloofness about him. He looked down at the bloody scene before shrugging. “What do you want?”

Your future husband fixed one of his cuff links on his shirt before sparring the grunt a passing glance. “Mail his head directly to that imbecile’s doorstep with the exception of the eyes. Send one to the Geto man he seems enthralled with, and send the other eye to Hiromi Higuruma.”

“You can’t—!” you blurted without thought. You couldn’t believe he was actually planning on mailing your professor an eyeball.

Both Sukuna and the Zenin man looked at you with amused looks.

The yakuza lord took three calculated steps towards you. He watched you shrink back away from him with reserved pain. He had been building your trust slowly, but it had all withered away with a simple action.

Still, he reached out to you, a curl of your hair around his finger. Your teeth were practically chattering in fear while he was so close. Was he going to punish you for your outburst?

“You’re very naive. It’s rather alluring, but let me educate you anyway.” He slid his palm over your cheek, gently coaxing you to tilt your head up at him. “The man that’s dead on the floor? He had been tailing us for most of the evening. While he could’ve been just gathering intel, he also could’ve been waiting for an opportunity to strike.”

You swallowed thickly. “That’s not enough for a death sentence,” you whispered quietly, carefully. You didn’t want to piss him off, but you also wanted to make it very clear that you were against this. You wouldn’t just acclimate to this type of life, and you weren’t just going to sit quietly while he did whatever he wanted.

His red eyes met yours, and for a moment, you thought you fucked up. “When I’m with my wife, it is. Make no mistake, kitten. I’m very serious about your protection. No one is going to get the jump on me while you’re on my arm.”

He continued, “As for mailing an eyeball to your professor, that’s just a warning. He’s the only person I suspect that would tip Gojo off about our location.”

Immediate disbelief filled you. “You’re simply paranoid if you think a lawyer like Hiromi Higuruma is in the Yakuza’s pocket.”

Sukuna gave you a feline grin. His fingers pinched your cheek in a teasing manner. “Your naivety is showing again, kitten. I have you in my pocket, don’t I?”

Your face warmed with embarrassment, and you mentally scolded yourself for feeling butterflies dance around your stomach. This man is a cold blooded killer. He just showed you what he’s capable of. How could you feel this way from some meaningless words?

“Send me receipts once it’s done, Toji.” Sukuna ordered before he nodded his head towards the door, signaling for you to follow him. His slid his hand down to your arm. He didn’t grab you, but it was enough to show that he wasn’t leaving without you.

What other choice did you have? You were stranded in the middle of the entertainment district without him. Hesitantly, you followed him out of the restaurant, keeping your head tilted down as you mulled over your life choices.

Meanwhile, Sukuna’s body felt… heavy. He didn’t expect disappointing you to have this much of an effect on him. He had played by the rules, hadn’t he? Was he supposed to just allow lowlife thugs to disrespect him in his own territory? Was he suppose to risk your safety and just hope that the Gojo clan wouldn’t strike?

Unfathomable, he thought. You didn’t understand the dangers of being with him just yet. He wasn’t going to risk your safety simply because you were naive to believe you’re untouchable.

Sukuna knew the moment the Gojo clan found out that he had a weakness now they would stop at nothing to use it against him. He would do the same to him, which is why he mailed his “presents” to Suguru Geto. As far as Sukuna could tell, the young man with long dark hair wasn’t in on the Gojo empire, but it sent a message to Gojo that Sukuna knew how to strike where it hurt.

If he took his wife from him, Sukuna would take his beloved too. Both of them would forever be alone, playing this cat and mouse game.

He glanced down at you again and tightened his jaw. You looked like some sort of kicked puppy, believing he had truly betrayed you and found some loophole in the contract to exploit.

His chest burned with barely contained anger. If he planned on dragging you into his lifestyle, he would’ve just said it. He had been very clear and upfront about his intentions, and yet you still believed him to be some sort of conniving snake.

Once you two were at the car, he opened up the door for you and let you get. You flinched as he shut the door a little too hard before climbing in on the driver’s side.

The ride was silent and tense. You felt every single second of it, and it was excruciatingly painful.

The sky had fallen dark, showing off the bright colorful lights of the entertainment district. You stared out the window at the hordes of people club hopping and visiting street vendors.

“How much of this do you own?” Your question surprised Sukuna. He had expected the silent treatment to last much longer.

“My name is on majority of the deeds. If my name isn’t on the deed, I own a good portion of equity in the business,” he answered carefully.

You kept your gaze out the window. The thought of looking at Sukuna made your chest feel tight. “Even the small street vendors?”

Sukuna tapped his finger against the steering wheel. He wasn’t a fan of dancing around the conversation like you weren’t upset with him. “They own most of their business. I merely make a small margin of profit off sales and such. I have no interest in micromanaging properties.”

You hummed thoughtfully, finally sitting back in your seat. You folded your hands in your lap. “How did you know that guy was from the Gojo clan?”

There it was. “I could tell. He was sloppy while trying to take pictures of us for confirmation. The waiter had also confirmed it.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Thinking back, you tried to pinpoint when the waiter had said anything about the gentleman behind you.

“Don’t stress yourself thinking too hard kitten. It was a signal you wouldn’t have noticed anyway.”

You took a deep breath, filling your lungs up with oxygen as you tried to settle the waging war inside of you. On one hand, he had done it to protect you. On another hand, he took a life right in front of you.

“It was jarring,” you muttered, allowing for a moment of vulnerability seep through. “I didn’t like being in that position.”

Sukuna quickly looked over at you. He could mark this down as yet another time you managed to catch him off guard. As much as Sukuna didn’t want to admit it, he hadn’t thought about how you must’ve been scared. Your body had been trapped in a fight of flight mode.

He had been raised around death his entire life. His family had been in this business for generations. It was ingrained in him. Everyone he worked with was used to it, or he didn’t give a damn about them to notice if it bothered them.

You were different — not a co-conspirator, not a business partner. You weren’t raised in this life, and while it was Sukuna’s duty as your husband to protect you from it, it was also his duty to make you feel safe.

You didn’t feel safe when he shot and killed that man. It was too sudden. He hadn’t properly explained or given you any sort of warning. He had gotten tunnel vision.

“That’s a fault on my end. I will not put you in that position again, angel.” It wasn’t an apology, but it was all he knew how to do: be better moving forward.

You stared at him in slight disbelief. Admitting he was wrong was something you hadn’t expected from a yakuza lord.

Feeling your stare, he grunted in response, causing you to shift your gaze elsewhere. He took accountability. He gave you his word he wouldn’t do it again, yet you found difficulty believing his word after such an incident.

You shifted your gaze out the window, deciding that you’d just need time to think. You needed to gather yourself, but it appeared as though Sukuna wasn’t going to afford you the opportunity.

“Where are we going..?” you questioned, shooting a look of confusion and slight fear towards him. He hadn’t taken the turn to head back to the student housing. Is this when he offs you?

Any look of guilt or concern had vacated Sukuna’s sharp features. He turned his head to give you a one-over, and a predatory grin curled on his face. “Home.”

“My student housing is…” your voice trailed as you pointed a finger back towards the exit he should’ve taken.

“Oh doll, are you still in shock?” he asked with a twinge of mockery in his tone. “Do you not remember agreeing to stay in the guest room until we are officially married?”

Fuck. You had completely forgotten about the clause. “I didn’t think that was effective immediately. I don’t have any of my things. I need clothes and hygiene products—“

“I can assure you, angel.” His fingers gently cascaded over your thigh until he cupped your flesh with such care that all your senses melted into him. “Despite your incessant worrying and forgetfulness, I have things under control. All you need to do is sit there and indulge me, yes?”

Your body felt warm, and you couldn’t decipher whether it was from his caressing touch or from how he took charge of the situation. Slowly, you eased back into your seat. What else were you to do? Jump out of his moving car on the freeway?

“Good girl,” he praised, giving your thigh a delicate squeeze. Your breath lightly hitched in your throat from the sensation, and your core involuntarily clenched around nothing. His touch felt like flames licking at your thighs.

You tried to will your heart to stop racing, but you subconsciously knew you were willingly going into the lion’s den.

Taglist (50/50): @theuniversesnepobaby @airandyeah @lizatonix @starmapz @everywonuu @totallygyomeiswife @sukubusss @depressiondiaries @t4naiis @hishearttohave @soraya-daydreams @lulunx @s-1-xx @el-lise @prettyngeto @marifujioka @iheartlinds @gina239 @actuallynarii @shxyxyxxxx @krispycreamepie @emoedgylord @nina-from-317 @pandabiene5115 @paintedperidot @dissociativewriter @lmaoshush @ninani-nanina @sadrna @boisenberry77 @tojifush @erwinawesomeness @meanwhilesomewhereelse @safasz @kassfunk19 @moncher-ire @gradmacoco @riahlynn-102 @diduzzula @juiceeypeach @kunasthiast @jinxiewritings @mordacioust @rinofcike @therealjustpeachesback @cutesytwt @loonytunesmith @stargirl-mayaa @dyavorange @beau-regards

[kwanniverse]

words that bleed

pairing: idol seungcheol x reader troupe: already lovers genre(s): est. relationship, angsty (i decided to split up into 3 parts cuz i wanted a part with ot13 only as it fit the vibe more so the fluff is unfortunately only coming tonight or tmr!) warning(s): swearing/cursing word count: ~1.4k summary: five words- he knows he fucked up.

svt defending her against their own brother is so green forest coded ugh #where to find men like that irl

pt 2 of seungcheol short series, read pt1, "words hurt more than you think." here!

work all mine, no reposting without creds, no stealing of published work, copyrighted:D

"hyung what the hell was that?" hoshi spat, anger shown by the way his veins looked like they might explode. "you didn't have to be so harsh." though softer, dk's words were laced with a certain apprehensive tension and annoyance. dino scowled, "cheol hyung, that wasn't you we saw a few moments ago. that wasn't the cheol we know." "yeah man, the insults weren't necessary, geez..." vernon mumbled under his breath. jun snapped a little too loudly, "ya, choi seungcheol, who the actual fuck do you think you are?" seungkwan backed him up (with maybe a little too much cursing), "why did you yell at y/n like that? we know you're an ass, a dickhead, no you know what? a jerk asshole bastard, but keep your shit to yourself!" usually the members would say something to this, but no one did, everyone's eyes only focused on glaring at their leader. joshua, the ever carefree gentle one, blurted out before the words could properly form in his head, "cheol, she's not a toy you can play around with cause literally is that how you treat a woman?" "red flag, y/n gotta avoid this one-" minghao murmured, wonwoo finishing his sentence right after, "hyung if i were her i would dump your stupid ass." "i mean, she's kinda you're girlfriend, or might be ex now HA!"jeonghan giggled, although the sharpness in his tone showed how he really felt. "hope she dumps your ass too!" mingyu was more than angry though, as someone closer to y/n, he was about to grab seungcheol's collar but the other members stopped it before anything could happen. "just saying cheol, you don't know just how much words can hurt someone else, especially y/n." woozi said quietly.

"no it's okay, come at me...i deserved that." the man in question finally spoke, the whole room silencing itself once again.

"...WHAT?"

"are you bipolar or-"

"bro i swear to god get your shitty act toGETHER"

"you've officially lost it, i'm out." vernon muttered, storming toward the door, muttering curses under his breath as if just being in the same room was making his skin itch.

but seungcheol didn’t move. not even a twitch. he stood still, eyes lowered, as if bracing for something more than fists. "you all think i don’t know?" his voice came out quiet, almost swallowed by the air itself. "you think i don’t realise what i did?" no one answered. "then why the hell did you do it?" mingyu’s voice cracked, louder now, breaking through the silence like thunder. "you think saying sorry makes it better? after the way she looked at you like she didn’t even recognise who the hell you were anymore?" "she flinched, hyung," dino muttered, his jaw tight, hands shaking. "she flinched when you raised your voice. she never does that. not even with you." "and you didn’t even care," joshua said, and the usual softness in his voice was gone, replaced by something cold. "you didn’t even look at her after." "i saw it," jeonghan muttered, and his eyes were glassy with fury. "i saw the moment you broke her. and you just stood there like a statue while she stood there trying to hold herself together. she was fucking trembling, hyung."

"i know."

seungcheol’s voice cracked on that second word. like it physically hurt to say. "i know." he said again, a little softer this time, as if repeating it would make it real. "then what the fuck is wrong with you?" hoshi barked. "what the actual fuck is going on with you?" woozi, the one who was listening in silence finally spoke, his voice dark as everyone gulped. seungcheol inhaled sharply, like the air was knives. "i don’t know. everything’s been… boiling. i’ve been on edge for weeks. months, maybe. i thought if i pushed her away first, if i gave her a reason to hate me, she wouldn’t see everything else falling apart underneath."

"so you punished her for your chaos?" seungkwan’s voice shot out like a blade. "that’s not pain, hyung. that’s cowardice." "you treated her like trash and now you’re pretending it was for her own good?" minghao added, each word like acid. "god, that’s so fucking manipulative." "i didn’t mean it to be," seungcheol said, voice shaking now. "i just… i thought i was protecting her from the worst of me." "newsflash," jeonghan bit out, "she still got the worst of you." "and she loved you anyway," dino said, voice barely audible. "even while you tore her down, she was still standing there trying to understand you. begging you to just talk to her. and you looked her in the eyes and told her she didn’t matter."

"i said she was just another distraction," seungcheol whispered. and the room cracked. "you what?" mingyu’s voice rose, and he looked ready to punch a wall. "you said that to her fucking face?" "why? to push her away? to see how fast you could make her bleed?" seungkwan growled. "i saw her afterwards, you know?" wonwoo finally spoke, slow and deliberate, like every word was carved in stone. "sitting in the hallway, not even crying. just… empty. like you drained every last bit of her and didn’t even notice."

"i noticed," seungcheol said.

his voice cracked. this time, there was no hiding it.

"i noticed," he repeated, barely above a whisper. "i noticed the second it was too late. when she stepped back and wouldn’t meet my eyes. when she said ‘okay’ like it was the only thing keeping her from falling apart." "then why didn’t you stop?" woozi asked, and his voice wasn’t angry anymore. it was worse. it was disappointed.

"because i was scared," seungcheol confessed. and for the first time, it sounded like the truth. "scared that one day she’d see through me. realize i’m not who she thought i was. that she deserves someone better. that i’m just this… broken thing trying to pretend i know how to love." "so you self-destructed and dragged her down with you," minghao said.

"i didn’t mean to."

"but you did," hoshi snapped. "intentions don’t erase consequences." "you don’t deserve her," jeonghan muttered. "not after this. not anymore." seungcheol closed his eyes.

"i know."

he looked tired. not the kind of tired sleep could fix. the kind that made you wonder if you’d ever feel whole again. "i’m not asking to be forgiven. not by her. not by you. i’m not asking for anything. i just needed to say it. out loud. without pretending i didn’t fuck up." "you didn’t just fuck up," seungkwan said, staring straight at him. "you shattered someone who loved you unconditionally. and that kind of damage doesn’t come with second chances." "you destroyed something beautiful," woozi whispered. "on purpose. and no amount of guilt brings that back." mingyu snapped, his voice fiercer than he had ever been. "you broke her. you broke her. and you’re still standing here like you’re the one bleeding."

"i am bleeding!" seungcheol suddenly shouted, his voice cracking open like a wound.

"you think this isn’t killing me? you think i didn’t see her hands shaking when she tried to pick up her bag and leave? you think i didn’t hear the way her voice cracked when she asked me what she did wrong? you think i didn’t notice how small she looked when she walked away like she didn’t want to be seen crying? i saw all of it. and i didn’t stop her."

"then you’re worse than we thought," jeonghan muttered, disgusted. "because that means you chose to watch her break." "you were supposed to protect her," woozi said, arms crossed tightly, jaw locked. "you were supposed to be the one she ran to, not the one she ran from." "i was scared she’d leave," seungcheol whispered. "so you left first," joshua said. "don’t dress it up as fear. you abandoned her before she had the chance to hurt you. and in doing that, you crushed her." "and now she’s gone," minghao added. "and maybe she won’t come back. not after this. not after you." "good," mingyu muttered, eyes red. "she deserves better anyway."

seungcheol didn’t argue. he didn’t cry. he just stood there. and for once, not a single one of them moved to catch him. because this time, he had to fall.

and feel every damn second of it.

[pinkcottoncandyss]

There we are! So, I'm finishing this au (finally) and there's the rest of the story:) Feel free to tell me anything I can improve in the plot!

Im going to post Frisk's, Chara's, Undyne's and Alphys's designs later, They are all ready on paper but I haven't made any digital drawings of them yet out of PURE LAZINESS 💔💔💔

After killing each of the invaders, (he made sure that the information that he was the one who dispelled that army would not be spread) Aller decided to take revenge on the human race, at first he used his shape-shifting powers to become more like the gods that humans worshipped. He offered the nobles of the human kingdom riches and lands, making them have greedy thoughts to build their own kingdoms. When everyone was separated, Aller told lies to each other that divided the kingdoms into endless wars. He was no longer thinking normally at this point, he had so much hate and anger that all he wanted was revenge, it is no wonder that the surviving monsters under the command of Alphys and Undyne hid underground. They knew that Aller was no longer sane, that he was unstable and could easily attack them at any moment, so they didn't even try to tell him they were alive.

Aller on the other hand, eventually became bored and depressed. All his anger burned away and left a void, he was about to kill the entire human race if Alora didn't show up.

Frisk and Chara were orphans, victims of war. They were exploring the surroundings of the monster ruins, in the middle of a dense and dangerous forest. Chara had ambitions, they wanted something precious that would give them money to escape from that chaotic scenario they both found themselves in, but instead they accidentally freed Alora from their stone prison.

Initially, Chara thought about selling Alora, but when they entered the monster ruins and discovered what happened, they quickly changed their minds, committing to help Alora.

Alora was filled with hope, they wanted to think that their brother and the monsters were alive. They followed the tracks left behind by the monsters and for weeks they searched, in towns, capitals and even invading monarchs' homes in the hope of finding some clue, and in that invasion Aller discovered them. At first, Alora didn't even recognize their brother, but that negative aura was familiar and they quickly realized who it was. The flame of hatred was kindled again in his soul when Alora was disgusted to discover that it was their brother who was responsible for all those lost lives, they fought and Aller failed to kill Alora, but blinded them before they could escape

Alora, Chara and Frisk at this point they were not only on a quest, but they were also always on the run. Aller was always right behind them until they heard the tale of Mount ebott, "those who climbed the mountain, were never seen again". They connected the dots, after all all the ancient monster figures have become legends and tales, this could just be one of those lies. They to the location, discovering the entrance to the underground and finding Alphys and Undyne, the queens!

The underground was technologically advanced thanks to Alphys' leadership, it was another world compared to the chaotic and violent surface where Chara and Frisk grew up. Alora explained the entire situation to them and after receiving several complaints from Undyne about having jeopardized several innocent lives by possibly revealing their locations to Aller and the humans, created a plan to capture Alora's twin once and for all.

Alphys was still doing some experiments with determination and discovered a dimensional flaw, a completely white world that could serve as a prison for Aller. Alora would have their powers intensified and used to create handcuffs and restraints that would prevent Aller from escaping.

Aller discovered their location and make his puppets send a human army to the location, of course, the monsters managed to cope since they were not the same as 500 years ago, but this only infuriated Aller and made Alphys, Undyne and Alora certain that they needed to end this once and for all. Alone he went to the underground, since if he wanted something done well, he had to do it himself. Single-handedly he dismantled the monster army and nearly killed the queens, but Alora managed to push him into the rift, the shackles, guided by magic and technology, captured his wrists and Aller had finally been captured.

After this, the wars finally ended and Alora took the throne of both monsters and humans, ready to begin an era of "peace and harmony"! Of course, after a few years, Alora became self-centered thanks to their positive aura. It's like sugar, a small dose is good for you but too much makes you feel sick, so Alora doesn't have a very good government (not like anyone notices, they're all influenced by Alora's aura too)

Extras

Aller is really strong, normal magic and physical combat weapons are useless against him :) the only thing that can hurt him is Alora's elemental magic, since it is made of pure positivity.

This applies to Alora as well.

Aller actually had his attributes increased by the golden apple and also gained the ability to be a "shapeshifter" (which I changed and now it's actually a skill that he uses and abuses a lot, even in fights), He also has a scythe that he doesn't use in battles, since it belonged to Toriel and he keeps it as a souvenir.

Alora has Asgore's trident, but unlike Aller, this is their main weapon.

First part here -

[hey-itsdollie]

HIII !! i have a angst/fluff request if you don’t mind !!

so my fav is karasu and i was telling my friend how i am not mediocre and how karasu should want me cos i do so much (basically flex all my awards and extracurricular activities) and then one of my friends said ‘honestly considering his inner struggles with himself he might think you’re out of his league 😭’

SO i was wondering if you could make something based on them being like kinda insecure END IT IN FLUFF COS I CANT DEAL WITH AN ANGST ENDING 😞 could you include karasu (obv), maybe otoya and rin and anyone else you want !!!!

THANK YOU !!!!!!!

His Insecurities

‧₊˚ ┊ The bllk guys have their own insecurities</3

୭˚. ᵎᵎ featuring » karasu. otoya. rin.

⋮ ⌗ ┆cw ⪼ angst/fluff, fem reader, mentions of insecurities, friends to ???

── .✦ Tabito Karasu

The jealousy ate him alive sometimes. The foul insults slipping past his lips faster than he could even think sometimes. Only realizing what he had said once he was having to follow up with what he was saying.

Karasu hated it. The thought of being mediocre scared him. He talked a big game–yet where were his winning scores? They were nowhere.

Whether it was simple grades, sure he was smart but if someone got a higher grade percentage–his paper would be hidden, a random high number blurted from his mouth as he faked a proud smirk.

A small backhanded comment being left where he stood as the other person was forced to just think about what he said to them. It was a defense mechanism–one that he couldn’t really pinpoint where it had started–or why.

More often than not Karasu would try to hold back with his comments. Not wanting to anger one of his close friends or come off as rude to random people he met on the street.

And when it came to you, god you were like the final boss for him.

High scores, many different extracurriculars, he wasn’t sure there was something you couldn’t do. When he saw you there was not one insult he could think of to make himself seem better. It was as if he couldn’t one-up you even if he tried.

You were beautiful, talented, and smart.

He was plain, mediocre, and a liar if you thought about it. He was nowhere near your level. Karasu felt his walls shake and struggled to repair itself when he was around you.

It got to the point where when you were around others, he would beg internally for nothing on his snarky comments to be revealed to you. Why would someone like you have the time to spend with him? A liar. A jealous filthy liar.

Unbeknownst to him, you already knew of his insulting comments. You knew yet you never questioned him about them. He was kind enough to you and others. Seemingly the insults never went further than choice of words.

And as time went on you noticed he would actually compliment you–the complete opposite of insulting. From this you began to grow great affection for the dark-haired male.

Karasu would occupy your thoughts as you questioned what his type was. Thinking that it could be a possibility that he liked smarter girls, ones that weren’t mediocre. The hope in your heart was practically spilling out.

Oh how you wished to have the chance to be with him. To have the courage to simply turn to him one day and confess all your thoughts and feelings.

Meanwhile, Karasu had begun to notice all your actions. The way you complimented him more, the way you’d make not only a bento for yourself but also for him.

You even went as far as buying him new cleats for his birthday, something he had brought up a few times but not enough to be remembered.

You were far more than mediocre and Karasu was starting to mentally feel okay about that. The jealousy turned into pride.

He was proud of you–proud of every accomplishment of yours whether or not it was big or small.

── .✦ Eita Otoya

Otoya was a known ladies man. A man who cheats on every girl he could get his hands on.

Of course, besides you.

Otoya always ignored those who tried to reprimand him on his way and outlook of dating. Why play with girls’ hearts when he could actually form a connection.

In reality he truly did form some connections. But if the relationship had gone past the comfortable line he had put–well, that would signal the immediate end to it.

The male would use the excuse that he “didn’t want to be locked down to one girl”. Something even his best friend seemed to give him a hard time about.

But Otoya didn’t really know when it started happening. The more and more he saw girls the less and less thoughts of dating went to his head. The mere thought of getting in a relationship drained him enough to not even give it attention.

Perhaps it was due to his best friend that had recently gotten into a relationship. The happy smiles and grins on his face, the constant small facts of his relationship that would be brought up. Otoya was too much of a coward to admit he was jealous.

He wanted that for himself–wanted to have a couple photos as his phone background, wanted to wake up to “good morning” texts like every love sick fool his age.

Yet it got to the point where he truly didn’t believe he could find that. Practically everyone knew of his past–the way he’d play with you for a bit then drop you once he was bored. Otoya was known as a cheater.

Which was something he didn’t want to be known for anymore.

When Otoya first met you, he didn’t think much about where your friendship could go. If it would turn intimate or stay mutual. That probably crossed his mind once or twice, but it never overstayed it’s welcome in his thoughts.

As your friendship grew Otoya found himself doing things he wouldn’t normally do. He started missing your texts–waiting for the “delivered” icon to turn to “read” as if he was waiting for a huge surprise. He found himself missing you, seeing you in every place he went.

If he saw a plushie at the mall–immediately thought of you. When a song on his playlist would play he could immediately tell if it was one you introduced him too.

Otoya was in denial–something everyone could start being able to tell. Especially his best friend.

“Eita, so is she another–you know, play thing?”

Otoya stared up at Karasu blankly. “Play thing? No way!”

Otoya often found himself getting upset when either Karasu or anybody assumed he was playing around with you. He would never do that to you. He refused to let himself do that.

He cared for you.

He cared for you so much that it hurt.

The mere idea of you being crushed over something made his heart drop, and the idea–the small chance that he could easily screw things up. Ate him alive.

But when he spent time with you, you never brought up his past. Or made nasty comments. You simply spent time with him–listening to his sometimes weird stories, laughing at his odd jokes and impressions, you noticed him.

You noticed a version of him that many had forgotten–including himself.

You brought out the best in him and he could never thank you enough for that.

── .✦ Rin Itoshi

Rin wasn’t one for making connections. Perhaps it was due to his past of being considered an “odd” kid or perhaps it was due to what had gone down between him and his brother.

Knowing him he probably put the blame on the latter.

The constant fear, almost anxious feeling he got whenever the two of you seemed to be moving along to a relationship that is higher than friendship–something more intimate than he was used to.

The small voice in the back of his head that repeatedly reminded him of how his own brother left him for a reason he did not understand. From how things currently stand he probably would never know.

Was he not enough to keep a relationship with? A connection? 

Rin tended to hide those thoughts and feelings behind a cold facade, his face almost never contracting into an emotional expression besides annoyance or frustration.

It was a mystery for him on how you–one of the few people he acknowledged as a friend–seemed to stick around. You were everything he wasn’t.

You were bright and always had a smile on your face. Animals seemed to come to you with no beckoning, children came to you for questions even when you didn’t have the answers. He heard people speak highly of you; something he only got very little when it came to soccer.

His advancements were outshined by his older brother.

But in the end, even when it got hard and he would lock himself away. Cursing out any of the other players for getting in his way. You seemed to always be welcome–whether it was just a small call through the phone or a small hang out at his place.

Oh how he was jealous of you–even if he wouldn’t admit it–Rin adored you.

He adored the airy feeling you brought to his gloomy atmosphere. The bright smile that made him forget everything else in the world. Along with the small nonsense you would ramble about that would end up circulating in his mind, even when you weren’t around.

Oh, how Rin adored you.

A friend. A relationship he has yet to fully indulge further into.

“Rinnie!”

The male shook his head out of the entanglement of thoughts, as he raised his gaze. His eyes found yours as you stood in the doorway holding a white grocery bag in hand.

“I went to the convenience store, bought a ton of the new snacks they had!”

The black-haired male nodded and made room on his bed for you. Pausing the long forgotten soccer video he had been struggling to study.

“Hey hey, Rinnie–” 

“--Hm what is it?”

You leaned towards him with a bright smile, your eyes holding eye contact with his easily. “Have you seen that new sci-fi movie? We should totally watch it!”

It wasn’t until you turned away to set up the movie that Rin’s lips curved up into a small barely noticeable smile.

©hey-itsdollie please don't copy, change, or steal my work. Thank you!

[kissmeizuku]

"Stressed out." Bakugo x Reader (ANGST)

@r1s-y0ur-s4anity

•

You were married to number 2 pro hero, Katsuki Bakugo. A very aggressive, loud, and rough man.

But never with you.

...

Until that day.

He had come home from work, all pissed and angry and shit because he couldn't catch a villain, and they made him go home and reassured him that the others could do it instead.

Hah.

The Great Explosion Murder God Dynamite doesn't need help.

He can do shit on his own!

God, he was so angry.

He kicked open the door after smashing his keys against the poor abused lock, growling under his breath over the horrible day.

He immediately saw you, but his eyes didn't soften like they always do after an exhausting day at work.

They just remained wild and hard, angry.

You turned your head from washing the dishes, smiling at him and wiping your hands off with a towel.

"Hey, Kats." You greeted sweetly, walking over to plant a gentle kiss on his cheek, but he rather just pushed you off with an irritated eye roll.

There was a beat of silence.

"Bad day?" You asked, tilting your head slightly.

He scoffed, walking over to the shades bedroom, stomping up the stairs.

"Tch. As if you'd like to know, woman." He growled.

You blinked in surprise. Well, he must've had a really shitty day at work.

"What happened?" You questioned softly, much more calmly following him up the stairs.

"Fuck off." He grunted, stepping inside the bedroom and peeling off his hero suit.

"...Okay, I'm just trying to comfort you, y'kno-" He snapped, cutting you off.

"What part of "fuck off" do you not understand?!" He yelled, eye twitching.

"...Uh, well, as you're my husband, you should be accepting my help."

"Wish I wasn't."

...Oh.

Well, that hurt.

"...Katsuki, you're being irrational-"

"Shut the fuck up!" He yelled, snapping like a dog.

You froze slightly, that certain sentence just stabbed at your chest.

"Kats."

"Shut. Up."

"Bakugo."

"Don't fucking call me that."

"Didn't you say you wished that you weren't my husband?"

That immediately silenced him.

Guilty and regretful, but he couldn't just back down now. Not when the fire had already started.

"Get the fuck out before I throw you myself." He snorted, turning around to face you.

"It's our shared room. You can't make me." You replied simply, calmly protesting.

"You're seriously gonna piss me off!"

"Just tell me what's wrong. Or at least just let me interact with you, as any husband should let his married partner do."

Finally, he snapped completely.

"God, you're so fucking annoying! Every single day I come home, you're always doing this! Acting like a sick little abandoned puppy on the road, who just so happens to have a favorite stranger to beg for attention with! It's like-" He raised his hand, to gesture something.

But all the emotions in his face drained immediately when he saw you flinch.

"...Y/N?" He said quietly, the anger and annoyance in him now long forgotten.

"...Baby, no- You don't think that I... Y/N, darling, I wouldn't do that. You know that..." he whispered, one rough hand coming up to cup your cheek gently.

He was right.

You don't even have any idea why you flinched.

You know he loves you too much.

But it still happened.

"I mean... fuck, I know I'm aggressive sometimes, but..." he trailed off, instead wrapping his arms around you, hugging you closely and protectively.

"I'm sorry. So, so fucking sorry..." he murmured against your hair, rubbing your back up and down to comfort you.

"... You're a jerk." You mumbled against his shirt, hugging him back, years threatening to slip out and soak his tank top.

"I know, sweetheart. I know..."

At least he still loves you.

That's for sure.

[ultraviolencecunt]

For all those girls who always loved a powerful figure with an immense amount of money in their lifetime, who would also do anything for them. Even kill.

Part 2

Trigger warnings: blood, heavy mentions of killing, slight mentions of self harm, stalking, mentions of abuse, blood and lots of it, gojo is a psychopath, only read if you love a murderous psychopath, real hatred speech, slight hints of eating disorder.

A/N: Should i finish it? This is so mentally ill coded (as you can tell, i have some issues for sure). Not proofread, wrote it out of slight anger and English isn't my first language so sorry for any kinds of grammatical mistakes.

Read at your own risk because not everyone would be comfortable lol. Might be taken down, but enjoy babies. Have an awesome day <333

My lips start to quiver as I inspect the lifeless body of that bitch lying beside him, his white shirt is covered in blood and he has got crazy glimpses of admiration in his frosted blue eyes, his lips slowly turning into a smile, he is so giving psychopath right now.

“W-What did you do?” I am slightly terrified yet satisfied with his actions.

“I saw the texts that she sent you.” He calmly replies As he kicks her lifeless body without any fucking remorse. Like she's a sack of wheat or something.

Flashback

Siz:  you are a worthless pig who deserves to die bitch

Siz: you don't deserve To live you fucking slut, since you self harm why not cut the fucking wrist bitch.

Siz: you're fat ugly looking whore, getting beaten by your own father probably didn't even get you disciplined, did it?

Siz: now you won't reply because that just who you are a cowardly little bitch, you deserve to get raped By multiple men and then killed.

Siz: die, whore.

His pov: 

Didn't realize I would see this at my daily stalking session at y/n's phone, who's this person texting her this vile shit?

The audacity is forcing me to leave a chuckle, she doesn't even know who she's fucking with. It would only take me a phone call to diminish her entire family's existence. I would love to go on a killing spree since I separated myself from these types of situations. I am a man who isn't scared to act his mind, all i would need is some patience otherwise i would be skinning this bitch alive without wasting a second. I will make sure to make her scream for forgiveness to y/n and not god. Since she doesn't believe in karma at all. She might as well as experience hell in her lifetime.

Present (your pov):

His Hands are covered in pure blood as he comes near me but I don't back away, hell I don't even ask him what he was looking for in my phone.

He looks so fuckable with blood covering his strong arms, splatters of blood around his cheek and that deadly set of eyes is making my knees go weak in the sickest yet most vulnerable way. I would let him ruin me as if there's no more time left in this lifetime to get my sins go unpunished.

I have always asked to God that when the fuck would they get their karma, never have i ever thought this is how they would get it. That out of all these people, he would be the godsend one, and i didn't even tell him anything. The top of the head which is separated is gathering flies around it, blood pooling like a lava.

There's almost an angelic glim in his face, like he just gained his wings as an angel. This is so fucked. Why am i feeling this much of attraction towards him?

“Fuck” i say as i see her skinless body on the floor once again, surprisingly her face doesn't have any bitchy remarkable expression other than the begging for life face.

"You could’ve just told me about it, about her. I would've taken the action much sooner, baby. There's no need to hide anything from me." He says as he looks deeply in my soul, searching for any vexation.

He just camly stares at me as I inspect the body, no skin, no eyes, no tongue, her legs are cutten off as well those one's from which she tried to kick me and even her fingers are cutted off.

“I thought about leaving the fingers as it was, you know, but she texted with those. I didn't touch her private areas though since i have no right” He explains as if it's a topic of some subject that I am failing to comprehend.

“And she said she was sorry for whatever she has done to you and said to you. Those were her last words, I recorded it, figured out it might soothe you a bit.” He says with a murderously calm voice. His words are echoing in my mind as i stare at the lifeless body, which was once coming to slap me out of anger, which's reason was completely based on assumptions.

He texted me that there's something important I needed to see. And i rush here in my pajamas for fucks sake. Shivers run through my body as i catch a glimpse of her eye balls laying around beside her, probably burned since there's a lighter beside them.

Lowkey wanna fuck him though, would it be crazy of me? For growing an intense amount of attraction to him after he kills someone who did wrong to me? Probably but we are both crazy anyway.

“Do you feel any better? If not, what can I do to make you feel good?” He says as if it's just a normal courtesy to kill someone for the person you like. He surely is a powerful figure and has the money and authority to do anything he likes. All i can focus on is the pool of blood at both of our feet. That's ruining my flowery socks, but he has his boots on.

“Saw you crying on your bed and your floor. I don't want you to self harm y/n, why self harm when you can harm them?” He says as he grabs my face with his bloodied hands. 

Never knew my place was bugged until now. But all those times I changed clothes and touched myself doesn't even bother me right now. All those times when i moaned his name, craved his touch on my body but stayed silent around him for both of our's sanity. But, All i think about it him caring so fucking much that he killed her for me.

"You need to eat y/n, she's dead now and starving yourself won't help her anymore in any fucking way. I want you to take a closer look and see how she got what she deserved." He says with a voice that leaves caress of care and sincerity over my torned up heart.

“All you need is to say what you want baby, i would burn their entire generation only if you ask,” he says as he looks with his love and desperation filled eyes. For her, i lost all of my friends, she spread rumours about me which left me alone without anyone.

“Just say a word, and we will hunt them down together. We would do it together, and you can take part in taking your revenge. I split her brains out because of thinking about you in a bad way.  That's where her ideas came from, right? She got what she deserved baby” He says as I feel a wet touch across my cheek and then my uncovered waist.

“How did you? W-Why did you? God” I say as I side eye her lifeless dismembered body, honestly that bitch deserved it.

“I have it recorded for you, love dove” he says As he kisses my lips as i am covered in that bitch's blood.

Never have I felt this much attraction towards a man. I feel like we might fuck right here without giving a fuck there's a dead body right few feets away.

A/N: I'm realising it now, but this is so love quinn coded, and i love it. We love a psychopath who's desperately in love with us. Period.

[cozm1xxx]

Hi!! Could you pretty please write something for the Survior!Dallas x Caretaker!reader au?? Literally any fic with Dallas being babied heals me omg

Thank you in advance 💕

⟢ ꒰ ⋮ 「 Don't let them see you like this 」 ⸝⸝

Now playing ▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။|||| Candy, Alex G

warnings ~ implications of self harm, cursing, references to events of the book, death, dally being a bit of an ass...

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ⊹ a/n ~ me too anon, tbh we kinda need less dally smut/romance and more dally angst like HELLO? He has so much potential! Anyways, I hope you like this one <33 (also this came out WAY more angsty than I intended…)

w/c ~ 1,200+

──── ° ʚ ⌞ ♰ ⌝ ɞ °  ────

Dallas Tucker Winston.

Tough. Mean. Loud. Devilish. Handsome. Mischevious. Angry. Heartless. He makes fun of little kids. He steals. He picks fights with people for fun. He breaks promises. He treats people like vermin.

And yet, here he is, clinging to a broad like she’s his sole lifeline — that “broad” being you. 

It’s a truly odd sight, the self-proclaimed “toughest greaser in Tulsa” is cuddling up to you like a child would their mother. Ironic, really.

Just two months ago, his buddies — Johnny Cade and Ponyboy Curtis — were being tracked down by the police for killing a boy. Now, Johnny’s in the hospital and in the custody of his Aunt and Ponyboy is back at school. A very, very different place than they were just a handful of weeks ago. 

That same week, Dally was shot. Well, there’s more to it than just that. He’d just witnessed someone who was his sole reason for life, Johnny Cade himself, die right before his very eyes. Or, at least, that’s what he and Pony believed.

The thought of it still breaks you.

He’d run out of the hospital in a flash and drew a gun on a cashier at some gas station, then was gunned down by police. 

Miraculously, he lived to tell the tale. 

He brags about it to his buddies at the Dingo, but you know the truth – about who he is underneath the smug, violent exterior.

The interaction going on between you two right at this very moment proves that. 

You’re lying in your bed, Dally’s arms wrapped tightly around your body, his head resting against your chest. Your hand plays with his blonde hair, his own calloused fingers tracing shapes on the bare skin of your waist. It’s peaceful, a rarity for a man like him.

He holds you as if you’ll disappear when he lets go. You look down at him, gaze as tender as your touches. Your voice is gentle as you speak. “You alright, Dal?” He tenses at the sound of your voice, before immediately relaxing. It’s clear he’s still in pain after it all. 

“M’fine, doll…”

Despite his words, you know he isn’t okay. He hasn’t been okay since the fire. He spends every night at your place, and even when he claims he won’t, he always ends up at your doorstep, tears pooling in his blue eyes. 

God, his eyes. They always say more than his mouth ever will. The emotions and thoughts he keeps repressed. 

“I don’t believe you.” You mumble. He does this all the time. You know he isn’t fine. It shows, in the way he doesn’t eat, how often he gets drunk, the way he comes to you crying. 

But, based on his response, he isn’t having it.

“God, doll, can’tcha jus’ lay off? I — agh — ain’t a fuckin’ baby…” He groans, rolling over. He slides out of bed, wincing due to the strain on his torn body. You sit up, watching as he flicks on his lighter and pulls out a cigarette. He always gets like this when you try getting him to open up.

Cold. Stoic. Resistant. It pisses you off.

“Why won’t you just talk to me, Dallas? That’s all I want—” As much as you hate yourself for it, you can’t help raising your voice at him. He’s being an ass.

“—for you to tell me what’s going on before you go out and get yourself shot again!”

The thought makes your stomach churn. He turns to look at you, his icy blue eyes full of anger, but also a vulnerability that hides below the surface.

“Damnit, why won’t you just shove off, man?!”

“Because I fucking love you!”

Your own words catch yourself off guard. Love him? Dallas Winston, you love him? You may be scared of the idea, but you know it’s true. You both do.

“D-Don’t—.... Don’t you fuckin’ say that shit.” His voice breaks as he speaks.

“Come on, Dallas! I get that you’re scared of gettin’ too attached, but for once in your stupid life, will you be reckless with me?!” Tears well up in your eyes. 

Dallas Winston is a reckless man – he steals, fights, yells at policemen – and yet, he refuses to be that reckless with his feelings. He refuses to believe that letting himself be loved will do him any good.

He just stares at you, for a while. Frozen. Eyes wide and cold. You know it sounds crazy, but you love him – god, you love him. He means the world to you. Despite everything, you find yourself loving him. And for him, that’s the scariest part.

He tries storming off, like he normally would. 

But before he can even reach the door, he’s doubling over; from pain or something else, you can’t tell. In moments, he’s on his knees. You immediately rush over him, heart pounding in your chest. Is he okay? Did he open one of his wounds? Did he burn himself?

It isn’t until you hear him sobbing that you pause. 

A rush of shock shoots down your spine. You walk over to his side, placing a tentative hand on his shoulder.

“Dally…?”

His arms encircle your waist faster than they ever have.

“P-Please— Please… Please don’t leave me, doll…”

He presses his face into your stomach, hands trembling as they grip your night shirt like a vice. 

Please. A word Dallas Winston doesn’t use often or lightly. It’s enough to make you wrap your arms around him, fingers carding through messy blond hair. Featherlight kisses are pressed to the top of his head, manicured nails scratching at his scalp.

His arms tighten around your waist as he sobs into your stomach. If only the rest of the world could see him like this. Not as the mean, scary greaser he pretends to be, but the lonely little boy you know he is. 

Tender words of reassurance are murmured in his ear. His sobs soon calm down, replaced with soft little sniffles. The tight grip of his hands loosens, but doesn't fall. 

You stay like that for a while.

After what feels like forever, you manage to pull away. Your soft hands cup his jaw, fingers tracing the stubble that now riddles his face. 

“I could never leave you, Dally.” You whisper. Not for the world, not for yourself, but for him. 

He stares up at you, eyes glassy with tears, 

He lets you drag him into bed. He lets you dress his wounds. He lets you put pink and sparkly bandaids over the scars on his arms and bruises on his knuckles. He lets you do it all.

Because you never looked at him like the others do — with fear or disgust or pity — only sympathy. You never made him feel weak or like he wasn’t enough.

Even now, as he’s clinging to you like a baby koala does its mother, he doesn’t feel weak. He feels safe.

───〃♰

BONUS ~

“Hey, doll… don’t tell anyone about this, alright?” “You think I’m gonna pass up the opportunity to embarrass you, Winston?” “I might’ve been shot, but I could still– AGH!” "God– Dallas! You’re gonna rip ‘em open again, jesus!”

[ 🏷️ : @r0seb100d @whitemanswh0r3 @marilyn-girly ]

[dodger432101]

Hey! I have to say it. I love the way you write about our beloved Lord of Light, and that's why I'm here...

PARA LA ANGUSTIA! HAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAH

Seriously, I was wondering what would happen to a Reader who was very sick or near death and Lux had to face the possibility of her death and what would she do with her daughters?

[You folks have had it good for a while, it's time to cry! *Provides tissues for all*]

You've been sick for more than a week. You're showing no signs of getting better. Lux has taken over looking after the kids while he forces down his growing fears for you. You'll be fine, you'll get better. You have to. Mr Pye checks in regularly, eventually sending for a doctor to visit you when it becomes clear this isn't an ordinary illness. The look on their face tells you before they say a word. You're not going to recover from this. Still, Lux remains optimistic.

Until the God of Death appears.

At first your lover is angered by their appearance, seeing it as a mockery of his fears. Sutekh says nothing to him, silently watching you as the days pass. Every time you wake, he's crept closer. You realise what that means. “Lux.. Can you do something for me?” Your voice is hoarse, like you're already a husk of what you were. He's currently helping you eat what little food your body will accept at this point, though he pauses to let you speak. “Take our daughters to Reginald.” You can't bear the thought of them seeing you like this, withering away. Your God stares at you for a few seconds, looking like he's about to deny your declining health again before he just nods quietly.

One night, you wake up to the two Gods in the room speaking. “Please Sutekh, I'll do anything! I'll give up my Godhood, I'll give her all the power I have, just keep her alive, please! I can't watch her die!” Lux looks as desperate as you've ever seen him as he begs the leader of his Pantheon for help. The large canine is next to your nightstand by now. He looks down, almost seeming guilty as he sighs.

“Imperator, if I could stop this it would not be happening.”

“What the fuck does that mean?! Am I fated to watch my angel die? Did I fall in love with the one human whose death is unavoidable?!”

Sutekh closes their eyes, blending in with the darkness of the room. “It means the human body is not built to produce Gods, and she has had two of them. It is a miracle she made it past the second one’s birth.” There's another sigh from them. “It is my fault, I should have foreseen this. If she wasn't so weak, I would let you give her any power she needed. It would only prolong her suffering now. I am sorry, Imperator, there is nothing that can be done.” Silence fills the dark room. If the God of Death deems it so, your death cannot be avoided.

Lux doesn't leave your side for the next 3 days, as death only creeps closer to you. If you wake up during the night, you'll hear him stifling sobs as he clings to you, quietly begging for you to get better, to stay alive with him and your daughters. It breaks your heart, knowing there's nothing that can grant him that wish.

When the God of Death has moved onto the bed, shrunk down to the size of a great Dane, Lux holds your hand in a tight but gentle grip as he looks at Sutekh with a pleading gaze. “It would be cruel to delay this any longer.” At his leader’s words the God of Light squeezes his eyes shut, eyebrows knitted together as he fights back tears.

You gently squeeze his hand, getting his attention. “How are Cel and Nyx?” You can barely move your lips, your voice a whisper. Your lover hears you clearly, being so close to you.

The corners of his mouth twitch up. Even on the brink of death you're thinking about your daughters. “They're happy with Reginald. They kept asking about you..”

“You will tell them, won't you?” He nods after a short pause. As much as it'll hurt them to know you're gone, neither of you can bear the thought of them living in false hope that you might come back one day.

He squeezes your hand as he moves to lie next to you. “You don't need to worry about them, angel, I'll keep them safe. I promise you that, sunshine, you.. you can rest now.” As he hides his face in the crook of your neck, you can feel the cool drops of tears that he can't keep down anymore. “I love you, I love you so much. Rest easy, my angel, I'll take care of our daughters.. and Reginald, I guess.” You can't tell if he lets out a laugh or a sob.

As you wrap an arm around Lux, that small movement taking all the remaining strength you have, Sutekh shuffles right up to you. You rest your head on your God, eyes falling closed. “I love you too, Lux.” A cold paw presses down on your collarbone, and all your senses fade. The last thing your brain computes is the warmth of your lover next to you.

[siconetribal]

Beyond the Bookshelves (12)

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: Workplace drama

Summary: You’re a Resource Management Specialist at S.H.I.E.L.D. normally referred to as ��The Librarian”. You’ve been assigned the nightmarish task of digitizing all the physical resources currently owned by the agency, with a few new computers and one extra helper.

A/N:

Life really hit me with major events back to back since mid May. The dust has finally settled though, and I've got a better handle on my schedule. I'll try to update more routinely.

Please comment/like/reblog. If you’d like to be tagged moving forward, please let me know! (If I missed any tags, please let me know, I’ll add you right away!) I’d also greatly appreciate it if rebloggers remember to add the tags (or some at least).

The lovely banners used in this fic are from @cafekitsune.

If you’re new to the story, please check out the master post for the rest of the chapters.

“Good afternoon agents, Avengers, and the one probationary member,” Agent Pruyn greeted the team cheerily until his gaze landed finally on Loki. There was a subtle snarl to his lips, a look that amused the trickster god instead of offending him. The lack of reaction at the obvious jab only further troubled Pruyn and Loki lavished in his irritation.

“How magnanimous of you to greet me in particular. You are too kind, agent.” Loki flashed him a charismatic politician smile that had some female agents in present company dazzled.

“Loki,” Black Widow’s voice was stern, but it held a tinge of exasperation. Something he thought was misdirected at him, since the one who started all this was Pruyn. The prince said nothing, he merely shrugged his shoulders and turned his palms upwards.

“Why are we here?” Hawkeye redirected the attention back to the question that was on most of their minds. 

“It's about the changes to the mission. There’s too much risk.” Agent Pruyn cut to the chase. “We’re going to be behind and will most lose valuable time wasted in running unnecessary logistics, scenarios, and covenant countermeasures. We've already mapped out everything, and all plans rehearsed to perfection. Going back to start from scratch is pointless and a promised failure.”

“Is it truly such a waste when we minimize the chances of failure through the redistribution of tasks and placing the proper soldiers in optimal positions in which they will excel?” Loki raised one of his eyebrows, sitting back against his chair,  hands steepled, elbows resting on the arms of the chair. He was completely unbothered by the remarks made intentionally to hurt him. “The spider and bird are perfect for infiltration and retrieval of the data we aim to possess. Though I’m capable of doing so as well, there’s no point in arguing the point because you don't trust me with that intel. You will question me forever, and if anything were to happen later on, it will automatically fall upon me as the reason for failure. I rather that that time and energy be spent more wisely. A prime example of wasting time is this highly unnecessary meeting. Instead of the team adjusting what is needed based on the last meeting and reconvening after all research has been completed, you are here feeling jilted because my adjustments make more sense. Am I wrong, Agent?”

Pruyn grit his teeth to swallow the anger rising from the humiliation he just experienced. Each word of that vitriol was a razor sharp blade cutting into his pride and reputation, exposing his hatred towards the second prince, which he did his best to mask with neutrality and false kindness. “You misunderstand me,” he plastered a pressed smile on his face. Don’t let him get to you.

“Oh? What did I misunderstand? The part that the team as a whole agreed the change in plan was best between the two plans, or the fact that you wish to set us up with an increased risk of failure? Or did you think I misunderstood the fact that you intend to have me in a position of scrutiny and be used as a scapegoat if things were to not go as we anticipated?” Though he was seated and Pruyn was standing, the verbal undressing easily told the room that it was Loki looking down on Pruyn.

“Agent Pruyn, we all agreed to these changes, did we not?” Natasha cut in, breaking the tension building between the two.

“Yes, but afterwards some of us reconsidered due to doubts.” He softened, humbling himself before the famous Black Widow.

“What doubts? Let’s clear the air now and move in. We're wasting time with all these side conversations.” Clint looked around the room at everyone. Small mumbles of ‘well’s and ‘it’s’ rose up and quickly died down as no one could really pinpoint the reasons for the hesitation.

It’s because none of you wish to accept the fact that I came up with this plan, and I was supported by both of your ‘precious’ Avengers. Loki withheld himself from rolling his eyes in response to the idiocy. “It seems I’ve managed to dispel whatever concerns there were.” 

“Right, so if there’s nothing, get this done as soon as possible. You already got Fury’s approval, so why second guess?” Clint reminded them, an awkward silence instantly fell over them. “You did get Fury’s approval, right?” He frowned.

“Is it pending approval? We can talk to Fury to expedite the review process.” Natasha assured them, but the silence only grew heavier, and Loki felt his irritation at such incompetence rise up. He did not care for their approval or expect any kindness without earned merit, but to stall and cause unnecessary delays and under his name was an insult. “We told you to submit this change for approval weeks ago. Get it done so we can move on.” She sighed in exasperation.

“This is the waste of time you were so set on avoiding.” Clint stood from his seat. “The next time we meet better be a proper strategy meeting, or we might need to hand this off to another team if you can't manage it.” He looked at Pruyn who was the lead agent on this. 

“Of course, an oversight like this won’t happen again. I hadn’t realized it wasn’t already submitted and pending.” He bowed his head and rubbed the back of his neck, the other agents lowering their heads as well. That arrogant asshole, who the hell does he think he is coming in and changing my mission plan? I've been doing this for years, I’m one of the best! He should be locked away in the Raft!

“There better not be.” Natasha stood from her seat. “We can end this meeting here. Get to work.” Loki silently stood from his seat and was the first to leave the room.

Peace and quiet, that is how he preferred his days as a whole. Sadly, in a tower filled with chattering Midgardians and his own energetic brother, finding such solace was a Herculean task. Even the sanctity of the library was marred with noise from time to time. It was hardly as loud, but it was always so much more vexing; especially after a meeting earlier in the week with the insufferable Agent Pruyn trying to create holes that he could not find in Loki’s proposed plan that was supposed to be enacted.

What a farce this all is, strutting around like swans, when they are nothing but frogs. Trying to deceive me, the god of deception? He scoffed. The pitiful Midgardian, picking a fight with someone who has fought battles and strategized far before he was even a thought for conception. He flipped the page of the book in his hands, looking up at the sound of footsteps coming his way. The employees jumped and scurried away quickly, and he frowned. This was the tenth time he has looked up at the sound of steps. Each time it broke his concentration on the page. He was on edge and there was no logical reason as to why, which only irritated him further. The next set of steps had him looking up, again, only to see someone unknown to him, again. “Dammit,” he snapped the book shut and slammed it down on the table. The person let out some high-pitched sound and fled from the scene like some field mouse, but that did not matter to the prince. “Why, in all the Nine Realms, am I unable to concentrate? That imbecilic agent is hardly worth ruining my precious reading time!” He muttered to himself, glaring at the cover of the book. Something was amiss, and it was not of his doing. Could it be, no! That’s utterly preposterous! What do I have to do with that? He dismissed the fleeting though before it could fully form. “Idiocy is a plague that will vex me for eternity. My talents and insight were wasted because of them.” He reasoned, standing from his seat. With the flick of his hand, the book jumped into the air and slid back into its place on the shelf. Training will help me release this nagging. With his mind set, he made his way out of the library without even glancing at the Librarian’s desk.

The famous city was quickly coming to life as people and critters began their morning routines. Among the moving parts stood Y/N, looking up at the towering building she called work. The one day of rest had quickly unraveled into a week. When was the last time she took a day off? Even when she felt like a radioactive snotty sludge monster, she made sure to look alive enough to make it in.

But there was no star-spangled hero rushing to the infirmary for attention those times. The rumor reels should've died down enough by now, right? She tightened her grip on her bag and stood as tall as she could. There was only one way to find out. Bracing herself, she walked in through the main entrance and greeted the receptionists warmly. The reply back was a robotic one, but it was promising. No funny looks or asking too many questions, that's good! That means things have settled. Obviously, they’ve realized that it's nothing more than him doing his duty helping a coworker. She sighed with relief and made her way through the employee entrance to head to her post.

When she finally got to her office, she sat in her chair and stared at the black computer screen, her darkened reflection staring back at her. No one seemed to care about her presence, one way or another. It’s great that no one in particular is asking about that day and Captain Rogers, but they aren’t asking anything? I was out for a whole week. She frowned at the monitor. “Did no one even notice? I know I’m not that important that my absence would cause all hell to break loose, but someone had to have noticed, right?” She thought to herself aloud, as if her reflection would respond and help soothe the sting of expendability. It was the chime of the door opening that dragged her from the self-pity as she turned on the desktop. “Good morning, welcome to the library. Do you need me to assist you in finding anything?"

“Y/N, is that you?” The voice had her standing up from her seat as she looked up.

Tags: @vbecker10 @huntress-artemiss @softestqueeen @thegodofnotknowing @princess-ofthe-pages @firedrakegirl @rcailleachcola @cabingrlandrandomcrap @lotrefcp @lwtannie @jainaeatsstars @msdjsg7 @tom-hlover @kneelingformyloki @gruftiela @gigglingtiggerv2 @kats72 @mischief2sarawr @evalynanne @wolfsmom1

[moonlitstoriess]

Too Quiet, Too Long- Rowan Whitethorn x fem!reader

Summary: When Rowan returns home bloodied and silent after disappearing for days, Y/N is furious and terrified. As his mate, she felt every moment of his absence like a wound. But now that he's back, broken, and distant, she's the one who has to hold them together.

Warnings: mentions of injury, blood, violence, angst, fluff towards the end

A/N: Thank you all so much for 1000+ followers!Crazy how so many people enjoy my silly little fics. Love you all, here is a little something for you <3

See masterlist

The fire had burned low.

Shadows danced across the stone walls, quiet and unwelcome. The kind of silence that didn't feel peaceful, it felt wrong. Stretched thin. Hollow.

Y/N hadn't moved from the chair near the hearth in hours. Not really. Not since dusk bled into night, and not since the tug in her chest--the one tethered to him--had twisted in that awful, bone-deep way that meant pain. Not hers. His.

She'd felt it a day ago.

Then...nothing.

No whispers through the bond, no flicker of emotion, no Rowan. And that silence? That terrified her more than anything else in the world.

The wind rattled the windowpanes, and she clenched her jaw. Her tea had long gone cold, untouched on the table. Her hands, usually so steady, rested in fists against her thigh. She didn't cry. She was past crying.

Past pacing.

Past pretending she could sit still and not shatter from the waiting. The bond hadn't gone quiet like this since-

No. She wouldn't go there.

Her eyes flicked to the door for the hundredth time.

Still nothing.

And then....a sound.

Wood. Hinges. The faintest creak.

Her heart slammed once, then held it's breath. Footsteps -- heavy, dragging -- echoed through the wall.

She was on her feet before her mind could catch up.

And when the door finally opened, and he filled the treshold--cloak soaked, face pale, blood soaking through his side--All she could say was, "You bastard."

The firelight caught the dark bruises blooming beneath his skin, the thin trickle of blood staining his shirt like a scarlet banner.

Rowan didn't say a word. Didn't try to argue or defend himself. He just leaned heavily on the doorframe, breathing shallow, every inch of him saying I'm broken, but refusing to admit it.

She stepped forward, fingers trembling with a dozen unsaid things--but her voice was sharp, low.

"You think you can just walk in here and pretend that none of it happened? That I didn't spend every second wanting to tear the world looking apart for you?"

Rowan's jaw tightened. For a moment, the fierce, unreadable hawk in his eyes softened, just enough for her to see the weight he carried. "I didn't want you to know." His voice was gravel and regret. "Didn't want you to be -- worried."

"Worried? Rowan, I felt you bleeding. Felt you gone. I'm your mate. You're not some ghost that I can forget."

He swallowed hard, shifting so that she could help him sit. His body was tense, like a wild animal trapped and too proud to be caught. Y/N knelt down, hands surprisingly gentle as they peeled back his cloak, revealing the ragged tear in his shirt and the dark, angry line of a wound on his ribs.

"Why didn't you come home sooner?" she whispered, voice cracking despite herself.

Rowan closed his eyes, the faintest flicker of pain crossing his features.

"Because it wasn't safe. Because I thought that I could fix it alone."

Her breath caught. She reached up, brushing a strand of damp hair from his forehead.

"Fix it with me, Rowan. You don't have to be alone."

He looked at her then--really looked--and for the first time in days, the wall came down.

"I'm sorry," he said, voice raw. "I'm so sorry."

He said it so quietly. Like the words might break if he breathed too hard.

I'm sorry.

She could've let her anger win. Let the rage she'd been sitting with for days pour out in venom and fire. But gods -- seeing him like this -- she couldn't. She just couldn't.

Instead, she exhaled slowly and said, "Let me see the wound."

Rowan shifted with a wince, grimacing as she helped slide his cloak off his shoulders. The fabric stuck to dried blood near his side, and he hissed through his teeth.

She didn't flinch. "Sit back," she said, steady now. "And be still."

Rowan obeyed without a word. That alone told her how bad it really was -- her mate, the brooding, stubborn Fae bastard who rarely listened to anyone, was silent and compliant.

Her fingers worked quickly, pulling the ruined shirt up and over his head. And there it was -- an angry gash slashing across his ribs, deeper than she'd feared, already half-infested.

"Gods, Rowan," she whispered, voice thin. "This should've been treated hours ago."

"I didn't stop," he muttered. "Didn't want to risk- "

"Risk what? Coming home alive?"

His jaw clenched, but he didn't argue. He just looked away, throat bobbing like he was swallowing back more than pain.

She dipped a cloth into the warm water she'd kept by the fire and began cleaning the wound. He didn't so much as grunt as she worked--but she felt the tightness in him, the restraint, like he was holding himself together with threads.

And still, his voice came low. "I thought if I could end it fast...you'd never have to know how close it got. Or maybe, just maybe, if luck was on my side, I'd quickly come back home. To you."

She froze. Just for a second. Then kept going.

"You were going to die alone for my peace of mind?" Her voice cracked again. Softer this time. "Rowan, I don't need a martyr. I need you. Just you. Bleeding, breathing, broken -- whatever. But here."

He didn't answer. Not at first.

Then he looked at her. Not with shame this time, but with something quiet and wrecked behind his eyes. "I didn't know how to come back like this."

Y/N's hands stilled. She leaned forward, pressing her forehead to his, gently. Their breath mingled in the space between them.

"You just come back," she whispered, "That's enough."

She stayed close, forehead still pressed to his, hands resting on his bare chest where the worst of the wound had been cleaned. His heart beat beneath her palms--slow, steady, strong.

Alive.

That's all she needed.

They stayed like that for a long moment, the kind of silence that didn't hurt anymore. The fire crackled low behind them, casting flickers of gold across his silver hair and the curve of his jaw.

Eventually, she sat back and grabbed the salve from the shelf beside the hearth. He eyed it with no small amount of distrust. "Don't make that face," she said, uncorking the jar.

"That stuff smells like death."

"It smells like eucalyptus, a plant used to heal."

"Feral eucalyptus."

She smiled despite herself, gently applying it to the edges of the wound. He hissed --just once-- and she raised an eyebrow.

"You're lucky I love you." she muttered, voice softer than the words sounded.

Rowan met her gaze. No mask. No shields. Just him. "I know,"

When she finished wrapping the bandage around his ribs, she sat back on her heels, arms crossed loosely.

"New rule," she said, voice firmer now. "No more shutting me out. No more cutting the bond. No more vanishing for days."

"Y/N- "

"I'm serious. If something happens, we face it together. I don't want protection. I want truth. I want you." Her voice wavered just slightly at the end, but her eyes held his. "If the roles were reversed -- if I walked out that door, didn't say a word, came back bleeding -- what would you do? How would you feel?"

Rowan didn't hesitate. "I'd burn the world, destroy kingdoms to find you."

She nodded slowly. "Exactly. So maybe next time, don't make me decide whether to do the same."

His throat bobbed. "I won't. I swear it."

"Good." she said, standing and brushing off her hands. "Because I like our home. I don't want to burn it down to find you."

That pulled a small breath of laughter from him -- raspy, but real. He leaned back in the chair, closing his eyes just for a second.

"You know,” she said with a teasing lilt in her voice, "if you wanted me to fuss over you shirtless, you could've just asked."

He cracked an eye open. "You're impossible."

"And you're dramatic."

Rowan leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips, "But you're mine."

--------------------------------------------------------—

[mylovesstuffs]

Okay, so let’s be clear: this fic hurt. Not in the cheap-angst way. No, no, girly. It’s the emotionally literate iykwim. I literally read a single line, pause, and whispered, “oh.” Ro’s writing never scream, or feels the needs to. It breathes, and then it lets you suffocate and DIE [or at least that's how I feel like—]. Trust me. I have first hand experience. I might as well have a degree on how much I love to torture myself to have this unique first hand experience.

The power of this fic lies in how much is not said. I think I can count it. Wait. The passive injustice, the knowing, the emotional erasure. Yeah. Jihoon is written in a way that’s not easy to hate; but even harder to forgive. Because he knows. He sees, and he doesn’t act, and that’s what makes it so brutal. It’s not evil, but just cowardice. It's a man watching the woman he loves be dismissed, uncredited, and invisible—and deciding that keeping quiet is easier than being brave.

And then when she’s gone? He mourns. Though, he doesn't mour her or not even the relationship but the version of himself she might have helped him become.

To me, it felt like it talked about gender dynamics. So I love tere’s also a sharpness to how this handles gendered dynamics in creative spaces. The contrast between how he is celebrated for the very things she was dismissed for. It’s not even spelled out, but just there, and if you know, you know. That’s what makes it smart writing.

Also. The tonal balance??? One second I’m dissecting emotional betrayal, next second Jihoon is threatening to kill Seokmin and I’m wiping tears from laughter. Then crying again. Ro is evil and I love them for it.

Tbh, I always need a mental health check-in with myself after I read anything by user shinysobi

Alsoooo... Just realised I was trying to be understanding of him at first and slowly just accepted I don't like him 🤡 that's that.

Just me yapping under the cut. Major spoilers!!

at the end of the day, he was there, and they were not.— Oh, I'm feeling this already. Ro, this is NOT okay for my heart. [Yes, I'll blame you and still read at my own will, and again blame you and again read at my own will.]

She was a phenomenal writer, no doubt, but no one took her seriously, not in PLEDIS and HYBE, at least. When he stood up to present his work, with similar themes to hers, they all murmured compliments and nodded with positive affirmations. Out of the corner of his eye, Jihoon could see her shrink into her seat. She was never really someone who would speak up for herself, and Jihoon knew that. — okay. I have a lot to say. 1) I love how quietly (?) devastating it is. 2) It doesn’t shout its injustice; it lets you feel it. The way others praise him for something she was never recognized for. You do know that it’s layered, restrained, but VERY emotionally loaded. Ro, once again, wrote so many things, e.g., resentment, guilt, and an ache into just a few lines. 3) That erasure where brilliance is overlooked until it’s repackaged by someone more ‘acceptable.’ It's shown without without ever having to say it directly. That’s good writing, ro. 4) I'd only say: this could be a turning point for Jihoon. If he really sees it and feels it, what he does next could carry a lot.

Jihoon knows what that is, he just does nothing to change that look in them.— God. His inaction is almost worse than active harm. It’s cowardice in passive acceptance. That he knows and still does nothing makes it all the more heartbreaking. And like, her watching him... hmmmm... I’m assuming it’s not confrontation or anger, but it’s the knowing. And he knows she knows. That exchange 😮‍💨😮‍💨 Some people let you down not because they hate you, but because they’re afraid of standing up for you.

Just the name of the song she’s sending it in for, and the date and version of the file.— Her files being so sterile 🥹✋🏼

"Vernon is being a bitch" / "how do I kill Seokmin..."— LMFAOOOOO I CRIED!! 😭😂 I think that's something he might do lolll. THE WHIPLASH. This is genius-level tonal contrast

the insufferable genius of Pledis.— though I'm not sure if it's the point or intention in here, but this screams in gendered double standards. Because if she pulled a studio lockdown and made an album in a week, she'd either be called obsessive, difficult, unstable, or worse, irrelevant.

Which makes entire sense as to why she left him, of course.— noooooo 😭😭😭

“Uh, sure.” She had turned back to her work, and Jihoon had nodded, murmuring, it’s a date, then.— Jihoon pls 😭 PLEASE 🤡 PLEASE 🙂

Why did he do that?— self-aware cowardice. guilt caught up with comfort, yk? I think this is one of those part of himself he can’t justify even if he could explain it 🫠

At first, it was to maintain distance, to maintain the farce— The use of “farce” is so sharp here. Like this whole split between “professional” and “personal” is a performance, and it’s not even a good one. It’s self-soothing at best and elf-serving at worst, imo.

Lee Jihoon of Seventeen was a different person to producer Lee Jihoon, who was a different person to just Lee Jihoon— brooooo I love how the disassociation is so visceral here. He’s not evil, but he’s not innocent either, and he’s aware of that, which makes it all the more damning gybybgvydcrsrdcvfgb 😩

the man who was using a woman for his benefit.— ohhh ro, you could've tiptoed here, but you didn't and I love you for it! I also love that he’s not trying to spin it or giving himself excuses because he knows and he keeps doing it

Well, he was the one who was caught— oh?

and it was Seungkwan of all people, who had run into him one late night.— I love you, Seungkwan. Please save the day. The fate is already written and posted [hence me reading rn], but a girl can wish.

“She’s not someone you can hurt and leave when you want to. No one is.”— This is something every human being should know! Unfortunately, not everyone goes by it...

Seungkwan and his fucking stupid moral policing— Oof. Here comes the anger-as-defense mechanism.

There was nothing that Jihoon had not told her, so this line of thinking was irrelevant. — Nope. Jihoon, my guy 😭 please, the line of thinking isn’t irrelevant, it’s EXACTLY why you’re stuck in the elevator thinking. If it were truly irrelevant, would he still be stuck on it?

He found himself waiting for hours for a reply— heheh [I should NOT be heheh-ing], the fall from grace.

Now, he found himself waiting for hours for a reply, and even then, it was all noncommittal, nothing more than yes, maybe, or sorry, no, I’m busy. — This is the emotional equivalent of watching your own importance evaporate and you don’t even need to say much. The contrast alone tells the story. From dropping everything for him → to “sorry, no, I’m busy.” love it for her.

He can’t even hide how much it rankles— Ooh, yeah, rankles is the perfect word since isn’t rage or jealousy. It’s irritation at being replaceable and a simmering bitterness (?) imo.

He’s never seen her laugh that way.— ofc you did. You didn't make her laugh!!! Or even happy!!

Unfortunately, somewhere between using her for his emotional benefit and discovering she had moved on— Yeah. Unfortunately, Jihoon. Unfortunately, you accidentally developed a heart, huh?

her absence rankled in a place that was not quite familiar to him before.— Babe. It’s called missing someone.

Even when she was actively ignoring his texts— Queenshit!

He’s still the terrible toddler, she’s the one whose reputation is pristine.— ykw? It’s probably true. He is a terrible toddler. He did fuck it up.

He wants everyone to suffer along with him.— OH FUCK YOU 💀😭 bro you aren't okay, and instead of healing, you want to implode. You want the whole world to feel the same mess you're drowning in :(((

and threatened to kill Seokmin on three separate occasions, — 💀💀💀💀😭😭😭😭😂😂😂😂

“The girl you were actively trying to fuck over, hyung, she left.”— OH I LOVE how Seungkwan doesn’t sugarcoat a damn thing. Love him. Also love how it's not “the girl you dated,” not “your ex,” not even her name, just: “the girl you tried to fuck over.” I LOVE that the accusation is blunt, brutal, and so earned.

The subtext is clear.— crystal!

If he knew, he wouldn’t have let Jihoon go.— Oof. Yes! Would've loved a fight or an argument Bro doesn’t even deserve a glimpse of her shadow rn.

“I knew you’d be a phenomenal film composer.”— my sweet Vernon 🥺

She doesn’t even look at him.— ykw? I'll say it! This is the closing curtain. She’s above it now and not out of spite, but because he doesn’t exist in her narrative anymore. She’s the protagonist now.

Seungkwan claps like he’s the person behind her success (with all his subterfuge, he might as well be)— nah, fr, give Seungkwan his flowers.

Jihoon... doesn’t clap, doesn’t smile. He can’t even think properly.— Do you know why? Because he’s mourning the version of himself that she could have made better, had he not ruined it first.

To be associated with me is the equivalent of throwing mud on yourself.— lmao, do you see how full circle this is? In the beginning, he wouldn’t speak up to protect her name. Now he won’t clap for her to protect her name. It’s the same silence—but now it’s out of shame, not apathy.

In the end, the guy does not get the girl.— he doesn't deserve to.

All his love has amounted to, is this.— :((( love how all my love can give so much inspiration. Such as: my version of this song in my head, this version, and many other interpretations that I read. Beautiful.

love's labour lost (lee jihoon)

in the end, all he does is run away.

☆ lovers to strangers: lee jihoon x composer! reader ☆ w.c: 2.5k (shortest yet!) ☆ genres: idol au, angst, dissolution of a relationship, jihoon is an asshole here i'm sorry (or am i) based entirely on all my love ☆ written for bella's event !! thank you so much for letting me write this haha i had a lot of fun! ☆tagging: @bella-feed (bc it was her event) @mylovesstuffs (because she's the one who listens to me yap) @gyubakeries (my comrade in this mess) and @hannieoftheyear bc she loves a toxic romance

All my love has amounted to, is this. 

Jihoon doesn’t know where exactly he went wrong. He did the things that were expected of him, he said the right things, he went to the right places, met and schmoozed with the right people, and yet, at the end of the day, he was there, and they were not. 

Jihoon knows who he is, really. He knows he’s not the most expressive guy; knows he is a bit slow on the uptake, knows he comes off as intimidating and standoffish most of the time. He’s not the easiest guy to get close to, unfortunately. 

Which leaves him here, looking at the phone screen in dismay, rereading the final two texts he’s sent them. Even now, looking back at the relationship, he wants to ask, what happened? Where did he go wrong, where did they go wrong? There is nothing apparent within the texts; they’re meaningless, accounts of a bad day that Jihoon had been having, updates on his meals, everything that was mundane and bleak and yet, they contained so much of his heart. 

In the end, the conversation had petered out easily, like the final burst of a firework, there were no explosive arguments, no throwing things, no tears, nothing at all. No spark in his life, nothing that told him about the steady dissolution of something that went on for perhaps too long. Jihoon doesn’t know how to live life without them, and yet, somehow he does, muscle memory pulling him through the motions of the day with an accuracy that scares him at first. He wakes up, brushes his teeth, goes to the studio to write, and ends up staring at the blank pages of his diary for far longer than necessary. He goes to practise, goes through the motions of being a dancer with a degree of precision that scares him at first, but now, now he’s used to it. 

The rest of Seventeen leave him alone, whispering amongst themselves about how Jihoon has been pulling away from the world even more. Have you talked to him? They ask, and Jihoon has to use force to get Seungcheol out of his studio, an action that Cheol protests by sitting in front of his studio doors for an hour until they have schedules together. He’s supposed to be working on song lyrics for their upcoming album, but all he can think of is the last time he met her. It had been a hasty meeting, held in one of the many boardrooms at HYBE, and he kept avoiding her gaze as she tried to explain the new concepts that management wanted them to try out for the album. She had kept trying to meet his gaze, and he had kept avoiding her, feeling the weight of at least thirty pairs of eyes on his every reaction as she stumbled through her words and her scratch tracks. He had shook his head, trying to control his reactions as much as he could. She was a phenomenal writer, no doubt, but no one took her seriously, not in PLEDIS and HYBE, at least. When he stood up to present his work, with similar themes to hers, they all murmured compliments and nodded with positive affirmations. Out of the corner of his eye, Jihoon could see her shrink into her seat. She was never really someone who would speak up for herself, and Jihoon knew that. 

He doesn’t say anything, even when he knows he should. Instead, he sits back, and allows himself to take credit for her work, ignoring the sinking feeling in his stomach. Her eyes follow him for the whole day, a mix of sadness and something else entirely. Jihoon knows what that is, he just does nothing to change that look in them. 

She looks like a wounded animal, he realises that night at three a.m, sipping on coffee as he works on tracks sent by her on a single USB. the files always have the same names, nothing of note, nothing of importance. Just the name of the song she’s sending it in for, and the date and version of the file. There have been times where she’s sent in files with nothing but the name, Song Draft#1, or something like All My love, draft #2. He likes the way she writes these, likes the way her filenames leave nothing for him to question. On the other hand, Jihoon sends the producers and songwriters drafts named (very creatively) Vernon is being a bitch, or as on one single, memorable occasion, how do I kill Seokmin and bury his body without anyone knowing? They had looked at him like he was crazy, but really, Jihoon doesn’t mind. He likes being known as the crazy one, the problem child of the company. Jihoon remembers the one time he went on lockdown in the studio to make a whole album from scratch in a week, and the rest of the company gave him a wide berth, because really, no one wants to fuck with Lee Jihoon, the insufferable genius of Pledis. 

Which makes entire sense as to why she left him, of course. 

Jihoon is not a stranger to how awfully their relationship began. Even by his standards, the way he asked her out was shitty. They had been sitting in his studio, drinking coffee and working yet another late night, when he had turned to look at her, and said a single word, “chicken?”

“Huh?” she had asked, looking up from her laptop, “right now?”

“No, I mean later,” Jihoon had clarified, looking slightly exasperated at how slowly this was moving along, “chicken. Fried chicken. Do you want to get some with me?”

“Uh, sure.” She had turned back to her work, and Jihoon had nodded, murmuring, it’s a date, then. 

That was how it had begun. Jihoon knew he should not have begun a relationship, or even dated anyone like that, attaching himself to the first person who caught his eye after recovering from a breakup. He knows he should not do it, but he does it anyway. Watches as she gets grilled by higher-ups during meetings, watches as he opens his mouth to say something, but keeps quiet instead. Even his bandmates, people who barely knew her, tried to speak up when they could, but he kept his mouth shut. 

Why did he do that?

At first, it was to maintain distance, to maintain the farce that while they were professional colleagues during work hours, he was not pressing her up against the couch in his studio afterwards. A way to let himself know that the Lee Jihoon of Seventeen was a different person to producer Lee Jihoon, who was a different person to just Lee Jihoon, the man who was using a woman for his benefit. 

It all grew hot and cold, after a while. She stopped expecting things from him, he hadn’t been doing anything for her in the first place. Even with his growing guilt, Jihoon couldn’t stop going back to her day after day, taking whatever she gave, and leaving without giving anything in return. He had it down to a science, almost. 

They were caught once. Well, he was the one who was caught, and it was Seungkwan of all people, who had run into him one late night. Seungkwan was there for practice, and Jihoon was there because he wanted to unwind fuck in peace. They ran into each other in the company elevator, and Seungkwan just stared at him for three seconds, before opening his mouth, “don’t do this, hyung.”

Jihoon stared at him, too. What the hell? “What do you mean,” He’d asked, but from the look on Seungkwan’s face, any explanation was unnecessary. 

“Don’t hurt someone just because you’re hurting too, hyung,” Seungkwan muttered, before getting out of the elevator, “She’s not someone you can hurt and leave when you want to. No one is.”

With that, he was gone, leaving behind Jihoon, still in the elevator, thinking. Hewas free to do whatever he wanted, Seungkwan and his fucking stupid moral policing be damned. And she was an adult. She knew what he wanted, she knew what they were getting into. There was nothing that Jihoon had not told her, so this line of thinking was irrelevant. 

—

Slowly, things start to change. Jihoon suspects Seungkwan’s involvement, but without any proper proof, he can’t even charge the man with anything. She becomes slightly more confident, slightly more outgoing. Earlier, when he called her after work, she came running, no matter how busy she was. Now, he found himself waiting for hours for a reply, and even then, it was all noncommittal, nothing more than yes, maybe, or sorry, no, I’m busy. He got the second text far more often than the first one. 

And then one day, Vernon came into the studio, visibly excited, and started talking about her, “did you know?” He said, “she’s composing the music for this new film.”

“She is?” Jihoon can’t even hide how much it rankles, the news that she’s moved on beyond him, that now she’s begun work as a film composer, “which movie?”

Vernon, who apparently got the news from her, says the name, “it’s going to be shown at Jeonju International Festival, and the lead actor came here today! They finished production on the film, and he came to congratulate her and take a look at her workspace and all.”

Ah, so that was why. Jihoon doesn’t say anything, gives a grunt and goes back to his work, a sign that Vernon interprets as get out. He leaves his studio an hour later to go to the cafeteria, and he sees her eating with another person. The actor; he thinks, and then turns around to leave before she catches his eye. If he saw her, she would come over to greet him, he knew her well enough for that. 

And, he’s never seen her laugh that way 

—

Unfortunately, somewhere between using her for his emotional benefit and discovering she had moved on without him knowing, Jihoon’s feelings had changed. He now looked for her in every meeting; her absence rankled in a place that was not quite familiar to him before. Hell, he even missed the way she ate her food, it was a trivial detail, but now he remembers the way she would carefully arrange everything on her plate and obsess over calories, insisting that she needed to have a certain amount to not keel over and faint. 

Then the conversation peters out entirely. Even when she was actively ignoring his texts outside of work, she would respond to his emails, send over USBs with the song files she was working on, sit in on meetings to workshop lyrics. Those stop too, and now he gets USBs through harried interns who don’t know who they are from, or gets his emails rerouted to another (usually higher) person in charge. Nothing non-professional, nothing he can fault her for. It’s annoying. It’s fucking annoying, how in the end of this twisted fucking mess, Jihoon is only one with mud on his skin. He’s still the terrible toddler, she’s the one whose reputation is pristine. Jihoon didn’t much care for his reputation either way, but if he was getting called an asshole, with rumors of him pursuing and abandoning an employee, he wishes she were affected too. It's selfish to be thinking about another person like this, but Jihoon does not care. He wants everyone to suffer along with him. 

It’s been about a month now. Within this time, he’s been the worst version of himself, locked Cheol out of the studio, ignored everyone’s calls and threatened to kill Seokmin on three separate occasions, but it’s been a month. A month since she stopped responding, a month since he’s had any sort of news from her. He knows he doesn’t deserve it, but he craves it anyway. 

He runs into Seungkwan on the way to the studio one morning, and the younger man takes one look at him and shakes his head. Jihoon doesn’t say anything. He walks into the studio and closes the door behind him. 

“She’s left.”

Jihoon turns. Seungkwan had walked into the studio, and was looking at him with a mix of pain and contempt, “she’s left PLEDIS. Left HYBE.”

“Wait, what?” It’s his turn to not believe his ears, “who did?”

“The girl you were actively trying to fuck over, hyung, she left,” Seungkwan sighs, “and one more thing, I think it’s a good thing she did.”

“What?”

“She’s now a fully-fledged film composer, hyung,” Seungkwan replies, not a hint of sarcasm in his voice, “she’s composing scores for two more upcoming films and one television drama. She no longer needs PLEDIS.”

The subtext is clear. 

Jihoon says nothing, just allows Seungkwan to leave. 

—

Three months later, her film premiered at Jeonju International Film Festival. Four of them go; make a show of it, as per Cheol’s orders. He wasn’t aware of what Jihoon did. If he knew, he wouldn’t have let Jihoon go. Anyway, the four of them go, in show of support for an ex-coworker. It’s too much, even for them, he thinks, who the hell organised this? 

He gets his answer before the show, when Vernon shakes her hand enthusiastically, grinning, “I knew you’d be a phenomenal film composer.”

She doesn’t even look at him. 

They take their seats, it’s refreshing to be in a crowd of cinephiles where no one cares about who the hell SEVENTEEN are. Jihoon settles down into his seat, and the starting credits roll. 

The score remains with him even after the film ends. Jihoon doesn’t care for movies, not like Vernon does anyway, so he focuses on the score; which is haunting, stretching like a yawning cat over the expanse of the film, occasionally baring its claws to let people know the genius of its composer. She had done well, and now he thinks the reason why everyone was so critical of her was because they were scared. Cheol claps enthusiastically, Seungkwan claps like he’s the person behind her success (with all his subterfuge, he might as well be) and Vernon even lets out a whoop to show her how much he’s enjoyed her work. Jihoon, out of all the four of them, doesn’t do anything, doesn’t clap, doesn’t smile. He can’t even think properly. So she left the company to do this. To be a film composer. Why did it matter? Why did it matter to him how she lived her life? He used her, she left him, in the end, it was his own actions that led him to be this way. She has always remained the pristine one, unbothered and unaffected of anything that happened in any space. In the end, Jihoon doesn’t even clap, because he’s afraid of tainting her. To be associated with me is the equivalent of throwing mud on yourself, he reasons, as they walk out of the theatre and into a waiting car, this is better. This way, she doesn’t have to remember me anymore. 

Now he knows what he feels, but it’s far too little, far too late. As always. In the end, the guy does not get the girl. In the end, Lee Jihoon remains where he has always been, waiting, a spectator in someone else’s curtain call. All his love has amounted to, is this. 

[gingermintpepper]

In my Zeus bag today so I'm just gonna put it out there that exactly none of the great Ancient Greek warrior-heroes stayed loyal and faithful and completely monogamous and yet none of them have their greatness questioned nor do we question why they had the cultural prominence that they did and still do.

Jason, the brilliant leader of the Argo, got cold feet when it came to Medea - already put off by some of her magic and then exiled from his birthland because of her political ploys, he took Creusa to bed and fully intended on marrying her despite not properly dissolving things with Medea.

Theseus was a fierce warrior and an incredibly talented king but he had a horrible temper and was almost fatally weak to women. This is the man who got imprisoned in the Underworld for trying to get a friend laid, the man who started the whole Attic War because he couldn't keep his legs closed.

And we cannot at all forget Heracles for whom a not inconsiderable amount of his joy in life was loving people then losing the people around him that he loved. Wives, children, serving boys, mentors, Heracles had a list of lovers - male and female - long enough to rival some gods and even after completing his labours and coming down to the end of his life, he did not have one wife but three.

And y'know what, just because he's a cultural darling, I'll put Achilles up here too because that man was a Theseus type where he was fantastic at the thing he was born to do (that is, fight whereas Theseus' was to rule) but that was not enough to eclipse his horrid temper and his weakness to young pretty things. This is the man that killed two of Apollo's sons because they wouldn't let him hit - Tenes because he refused to let Achilles have his sister and Troilus who refused Achilles so vehemently that he ran into Apollo's temple to avoid him and still couldn't escape.

All four of these men are still celebrated as great heroes and men. All four of these men are given the dignity of nuance, of having their flaws treated as just that, flaws which enrich their character and can be used to discuss the wider cultural point of what truly makes a hero heroic. All four of these men still have their legacies respected.

Why can that same mindset not be applied to Zeus? Zeus, who was a warrior-king raised in seclusion apart from his family. Zeus who must have learned to embrace the violence of thunder for every time he cried as a babe, the Corybantes would bang their shields to hide the sound. Zeus learned to be great because being good would not see the universe's affairs in its order.

The wonderful thing about sympathy is that we never run out of it. There's no rule stopping us from being sympathetic to multiple plights at once, there's no law that necessitate things always exist on the good-evil binary. Yes, Zeus sentenced Prometheus to sufferation in Tartarus for what (to us) seems like a cruel reason. Prometheus only wanted to help humans! But when you think about Prometheus' actions from a king's perspective, the narrative is completely different: Prometheus stole divine knowledge and gifted it to humans after Zeus explicitly told him not to. And this was after Prometheus cheated all the gods out of a huge portion of wealth by having humans keep the best part of a sacrifice's meat while the gods must delight themselves with bones, fat and skin. Yes, Zeus gave Persephone away to Hades without consulting Demeter but what king consults a woman who is not his wife about the arrangement of his daughter's marriage to another king? Yes, Zeus breaks the marriage vows he set with Hera despite his love of her but what is the Master of Fate if not its staunchest slave?

The nuance is there. Even in his most bizarre actions, the nuance and logic and reason is there. The Ancient Greeks weren't a daft people, they worshipped Zeus as their primary god for a reason and they did not associate him with half the vices modern audiences take issue with. Zeus was a father, a visitor, a protector, a fair judge of character, a guide for the lost, the arbiter of revenge for those that had been wronged, a pillar of strength for those who needed it and a shield to protect those who made their home among the biting snakes. His children were reflections of him, extensions of his will who acted both as his mercy and as his retribution, his brothers and sisters deferred to him because he was wise as well as powerful. Zeus didn't become king by accident and it is a damn shame he does not get more respect.

[qoldenskies]

I want ccDonnie to snap and get angry as fuck. He deserves it

technically he did in chapter 10! right before one of the most traumatic experiences of his life LMAO

[what-even-is-sleep]

thinking about Bodkin again bc I mean,,, ALL THE SYMBOLISM OHHHHHGH. i NEED some tumblr film analysis hobbyists to watch this show and tell me all the themes n such

[millipup-posting]

how do i even explain what i want to do with the hex’s story the game is already a big “god(more of a title here) is evil and it hates you” i’m literally just doing that again but worse

[araneitela]

So, on the topic of female muses. Right, I’ve changed my mind, I want to separate these two topics as this one is really on the forefront of my mind. Man, not once have I ever thought that I'd write a post in which I would genuinely ever use 'as a woman' as part of enforcing my argument, but here I am: May 2nd of 2024 marks the day.

So, here's the band-aid that I'm ripping off: if you follow me for the sole purpose of showing support because I write a female character: don't. As a woman, I actively don't want that mindset anywhere remotely near me. I don't want that kind of support from you, I don't want that kind of pity from anyone, I don't want the 'sisterhood' to rally around me, I don't want 'our girls can be besties' on the simple and mere premise that they're both women. Get out of here, I don't want anything to do with it. If you follow me, I want it to be because I've piqued your curiosity with my analyses, and that I've earned your interest (yes, just like you earn everything in life, including someone's attention and respect), and that I've made you want to approach and interact with me because the character that I write appeals to you on the premise of being a good presentation of a character, regardless of whether she's a woman or not. Do not think for even a moment, that you are under any obligation of interacting with me because I write a female character, because you're not. And honestly, on top of that, I don't deserve any sort of special recognition for writing a woman, I don't face any kind of daily struggles in life for writing a woman on Tumblr.com; I do not and have never felt 'lesser' or 'prejudiced against' for writing a woman throughout all of my years of writing them off and on across so many different fandoms, both canonical and original alike.

I genuinely hate reading so many posts that tell me to 'hang in there', and to 'stay strong, girlfriend' as if I'm fighting some war: I'm not. I don't want to be associated with this kind of mindset and/or behavior, I rebel against it and would shout it from the highest rooftops if my lungs permitted me to do so. I do not write a woman because I want to 'represent women', I do not write a woman because I'm 'fighting against discrimination', I do not write a woman to get respect from other women, I do not write a woman because I love women more than anything else in this world, I do not write a woman to help carry any sort of torch for my sex, and I certainly don't write a woman to say 'fuck you' to men. Honestly, and I say this as a woman: it would be pretty devastating to know that you, a (most likely) fellow woman on this platform, would reduce a female writer to wanting to write a female character for those reasons, and nothing else. My rage then, would be aimed in one direction, and one direction alone. And quite honestly, it's already there; my respect is more than halfway out the door.

I write the female characters that I do, because they're amazing characters that happen to be women, and I've written amazing characters that happened to be men. And guess what, many of those amazing female characters that so many of us love so desperately? Have been written by men, just like women, too, have written incredible male characters. I wish that were a reality that many of you could look at and realize, instead of pointing fingers at 'cishet men', as if they are the huge majority within this RPC.

Any way, I'm getting a little off-topic so let me get back to my point, because I sure as hell want to be sure that it's read, understood and that it's taken at face value: every single follower is appreciated more than they realize. However, be here because you appreciate what I do because I do it well, that I've earned your attention and am deserving of it, and not because I'm a woman or because I write one, because that would be one hell of a disappointment (and quite frankly: an insult) to come to terms with.