#AND I WAS LIKe MY HONEST REACTION I SAID 'do you want me to kill you?' 😭😭😭😭😭

[gothamite-rambler]

The Outlaws helping out Harley

Harley spent the last hour and a half recounting to the Outlaws the harrowing experiences Joker had put her through—his manipulation, the various forms of abuse, how he let her come perilously close to death numerous times, and how he always twisted things to make her feel like it was her fault.

Harley (concluding her story): After finally escapin' and acceptin' that Joker never truly loved me, I thought maybe this whole redemption thing could work. And, well, it has. That’s probably all I want to say about it.

She sighed contentedly, leaning back in her chair. The reaction from the Outlaws was stunned silence mixed with horror. Artemis even covered her mouth, struggling to find the right words.

Roy (speaking first): He threw you out of a window because you explained a joke?

Harley (coolly): Yeah. Fucked up, I know.

Bizarro (disgusted): He didn’t leave you in a vat of acid and not escape? He is good man!

Harley: Tell me about it. He’s dead to me now, stuck up at Arkham and always schemin' his next escape. I heard Slade gave him a serious beatin' a few weeks back. Caramel, I’d say.

Jason (checking his gun’s ammo): You mean karma.

Harley: Oh, right. Sorry. I said that a lot with Joker, too, for the smallest things.

Artemis (struggling to restrain her anger): Yeah, you mentioned the ice cream cake incident. Hey, Harley, we appreciate you opening up. It takes a lot of courage, and I’m glad you feel comfortable here with us.

Harley: No problem! When I started this group therapy, I wanted it to be a safe space for everyone to share what’s been botherin' 'em. I trust all of you. So, who's next?

Artemis sent a quick message to Jason, Roy, and Bizarro, receiving a thumbs-up in reply.

Artemis: We need to put a pause on this. There's something urgent we have to handle—someone awful we’ve dealt with before. We're going to pay him a visit.

Harley (crossing her legs, intrigued): Kill or no kill? I want you to be honest; that’s how my street therapy works.

Roy (checking his phone for the right response): No kill. That would be way too easy. He needs to live and suffer. While we’re gone, can you watch Lian?

Harley (perking up): I can watch her? Yes! We’re goin' to have so much fun together! Sorry for bein' so energetic; I’ve always loved kids. You guys do ya thing, and I’ll hang out with Lian. Then we can get… whatever you want. My treat!

Jason sighed and covered his face at her over enthusiastic response.

Jason (in his head): Oh my God, she's so hurt.

Artemis (nodding in agreement with Jason's reaction): Yeah, I get it.

Bizarro (sincere): Harley? You're... not our friend. I don’t want you to know that. Okay?

Harley (smiling, understanding what he meant): I needed to hear that. Thanks, pals.

Wiping her eyes, Harley got up and headed to Lian’s room to let her know they were going to spend the day together. Meanwhile, Roy prepared for their trip to Arkham.

Roy: We can be there in about thirty minutes.

Artemis: Jason, just checking—are you okay with this?

Jason: I’ll probably stay outside and keep watch because I will kill him if I see him. I want you to shoot him though, the leg at least. I had no idea he did... that much awful shit to her. He just keeps getting worse.

Artemis: It’s like the worst of Zeus mixed with Apollo. Let’s hurry before she catches on—she is not paying for our food either! Hera, I’m going to snap his penis like a twig.

Roy: Fair enough... Not sure how you're going to pull that off, but fair.

Artemis (cracking her knuckles): Oh, I’ll find a way.

The group moved quickly, just as Harley was leaving Lian's room, holding her hand and leading her to the living room.

Harley: So, it’s about dogs in Australia?

Lian: Yeah! It’s really cute, but heads up—Bluey and Bandit are sisters, not brothers. It’ll make sense when we start watching it.

Harley shrugged and sat down on the couch with Lian, pulling up Disney Plus on the television.

[chrisbangs]

😣💗.

[lcriedlastnight]

Hi can i pls request a lando x reader where he mentions in many interviews that he wants an army of kids and the camara always pans to other drivers teasing reader

ofc you can baby <33 thanks for helping me celebrate! here's that kiss i promised xoxo

requests are open!

852 words.

it wasn't unknown that lando wanted kids. it's not like he went out of his way to to talk about having children either, he just went on half an hour tangents anytime an interviewer brought up the topic is all. you didn't find out just how many until you decided to ask him about it one night, not long after lando had gotten slandered on twitter for being 'obsessed' with having a mini version of himself running around.

"so.. you know how you've said you want kids?" you start, voice a little hesitant knowing he was a bit peeved about the bullying he was getting online for that very thing. if looks could kill you swear you would be a dead girl.

"don't you start." he groans, eyes rolling so hard to the of his head you thought they may get stuck.

lando, who had just gotten ready for bed, slips in beside you and you immediately know he's not actually pissed off at you because he is pulling your arm to get you as close to him as he physically could.

"i don't mean it like that, i just wanted to ask you about it." lando watches as you strain your neck up to be able to see his reaction from your very comfortable position on his chest. it does bring the smallest of smiles to his lips.

with a joking sigh he asks "what do you want to know?".

"well, i guess the most important one is-"

"if i want them with you?" lando interrupts, sending your brows into your hairline. you smack him on the back of the head and he just laughs like it was actually funny. dickhead.

"no! how many you want. but now i don't want any with you if they're going to turn out like you." you cross your arms over your chest, trying to convince him you actually were in a huff. a strong hand running down your front seconds after ruins your plans for any further annoyance though.

lando hums in thought before he answers your question. his hand now drawing random shapes on your hip bone.

"you're going to hate me when i say this, but i only really wanted a few maybe two max? but being with you? i want minimum four."

your gasp makes him wince. you're shocked, there is no way he is actually being serious. you tell him as much but he shakes his head and assures you just how serious he is.

"honestly baby. i want a big family with you."

his words may or may not rile you and you guys maybe get started on that big family that night, but you don't kiss and tell..

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

lando wasn't to hold back on his thoughts or feelings and with his rants about wanting to start a family were proof of this, well you had thought so. the next time you're at the paddock is the next time he's asked about starting a family. you're watching from the side with max and oscar as he gets interviewed and you can see the say his whole face lights up at the question, as if racing was a chore he was getting forced to do every few weekends and not the second favourite part of his life.

lando takes a quick glance in your direction before he starts and it's like your conversation on the topic opened the floodgates in lando's mind as he reveals his every thought on having a baby or two or ten.

"me and my girlfriend were talking about this and it made me realise i want a full on norris army of children behind me. i want minimum four with my girl. ideally two of each but wouldn't even complain if all i had was girls because then that means that there would be so much more of my girl out there in the world, and little parts of me i guess too." lando's smile is splitting and the interviewer smiles back at him, loving seeing him being so open and honest about it.

"would you encourage your little ones to get involved in karting and racing?" she enquires. you can already picture taking your imaginary children along to watch lando in his races. it does make your heart skip a beat or two.

as the interview continues, unbeknown to you and the other two drivers who are making kissy faces at pretending to cradle a child in their arms just to tease you and how much lando was infatuated with the idea of kids with you, the camera pans in your direction to get a nice reaction shot to your boyfriend's words.

all they capture is your bright red face, from the teasing and lando blunt words, and the boys childish behaviour.

that night is then filled with lando teasing (and comforting) you as it was now your turn to get teased on twitter, millions of fans already making your reaction a meme. you knew you'd never live it down and a small part of you was excited to explain the video and reaction picture to those future kids.

[inkskinned]

so while i was writing the book, i became violently suicidal.

this was mostly due to the fact that i had a very bad reaction to some meds and my brain stopped producing any serotonin. also i was in the last semester of grad school where it's actually illegal to feel anything but dread. so it wasn't going well.

somewhere in the fog of it i became aware i needed help. nobody was taking clients or my insurance. i didn't want to do inpatient care - it wasn't right for my needs. there's not really an "in between" stage between "inpatient" and "no care," but i was trying to do the right thing. i was trying to activate the chain of command that was my emergency plan. i knew i needed help now.

i used betterhelp.

i know, i know. i'm a straight-A student and so smart and so clever, how could i ever use something so blatantly bad. to be honest with you, i didn't feel particularly keen on it from the getgo - things that seem too good to be true usually are. also, if something online is free, the price is usually your privacy.

the thing is that there was kind of a global pandemic happening at the time and i worked 5 jobs alongside of being a fulltime student and also like writing a book on the side. it is a miracle that i even thought about getting help. i would love to tell you i had the mental wherewithal to like, process whether this was the right choice for me. mostly i was desperate. i was so suicidal that i was trying to find a reason to stay inside of fortune cookies. i was the kind of suicidal that looks like splatterpaint. i hadn't been that bad in an entire decade.

they took my data. i gave them it freely. somewhere out there, they have a dossier on me. on everything i survived. my story in little datapoints, scattergraphed beautifully.

the first woman told me that really i should be grateful, because (and this is a direct quote): "at least you're not anne frank." i said that i felt that statement was antisemitic, as anne frank's life and experience shouldn't be compared to like, a nonbinary lesbian in western massachusetts. the therapist said that i should try to use lucid dreaming to try to picture myself in an actually scary situation, like running from nazis.

i applied for another therapist. i was willing to accept the possibility that there was a bad apple in the bunch. the next therapist and i even laughed about how inappropriate that statement was. and then, in our next session: the new therapist said if i was struggling with body image issues, i should just work harder on my appearance. she spent 3 sessions in a row talking about how she was grieving, and made me memorize facts about her grandmother so "she can live on through my clients."

i am a three's-a-charm kind of person. okay, so what if the last person made me uncomfortable. i figured it was just a misunderstanding of priorities - she had felt she was sharing with me, i had felt like i had to take care of her. i applied for another therapist.

the last woman asked me to help her pray. she bowed her head. i stared at her, frozen, while she said: lord, i beg you: cure her. take the pain of being gay away from her.

i spent somewhere between 2.5 and 3 months on betterhelp. in that whole time, i was not getting the professional help i so desperately needed, even though i was fucking trying.

in the end, i survived this because i finally could get off the meds that were literally killing me. a request for a real therapist finally went through. i survived because my friends saved my life. because nick let me sob myself dry in his arms. because maddie took the razors out of my room when i asked them to. because grace slept over in my bed for like 3 weeks in a row since nobody trusted me not to hurt myself when i was alone. i survived because i got fucking lucky. because even when i was desperately suicidal, i was too old and too self-aware to take "you need to be prettier" as good advice.

the thing is that there's a 19 year old me who isn't like that. who would have heard "just think about how grateful you should be" and said - oh, i see. i would have assumed that is what it means to be in therapy: the same thing my abusers used to tell me. that i am just pretending and lazy. that i am ugly and unworthy.

betterhelp positioned itself to take advantage of an incredibly vulnerable community. it preys on desperation. it knows it is serving people who are not doing well mentally. it saw that there is a huge need for real, immediate, compassionate mental health care: and then it fucking takes your money and privacy.

i still get their ads on instagram. last night i watched as a woman in a pool pretends to talk to a different woman. they discuss her anxiety.

there's a 19 year old version of me, and she didn't survive this. she was too tired, and drowning. i almost fucking died. this thing almost fucking killed me.

in the ad, the woman playing the therapist takes a note on a clipboard and then nods once, sagely.

i have to admit it's a pretty scene. the steam and light coming off the pool water lands on the actresses. like this, it almost looks baptismal, holy.

[taylorman2274]

We Care About You (Part VI)

The Traveler finally gets to say what they wanted to say to [Y/N].

Content Warning(s): N/A

Notes: SAGAU; GN!Reader;

Word Count: 0.9k

Previous || Next

Taglist: @silverstarred; @victoria1676; @angelofdarkness2; @areaderspov; @andromeda-gay; @ash1; @mercy-not-merci; @toodledoodl3; @jellyedkazoo; @namine123; @innuwu; @agaygothicmushroom; @tired-of-life-86; @fantasyhopperhea; @sweetsourbxtch; @zenith-of-all-zeniths; @velleunv; @creativecupcake; @obsoletedeviant;

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"You're still looking stressed, [Y/N]. Are you sure you're okay?"

You looked up to see the Traveler's concerned face. "Oh, I'm fine, I guess. Sorry. I just really wasn't expecting something like this to happen."

"Paimon understands. Paimon would be scared too if she found herself summoned to another world."

You slowly nodded. You found yourself to be a lot more calm than you were roughly three minutes ago, but that didn't mean you weren't nervous. After all, you were talking with two people who are only known to exist inside of a game. Purely pixels on a screen. And yet, here you were having a genuine conversation with them.

"Speaking of which, you said you wanted to talk to me about your future journey?"

"Not mine, ours," the Traveler shook their head. "It's our future journey."

"No, it is yours," you rebutted, confidence rising within you. "I'm not the one traveling around Teyvat, you are."

"But you are with me, are you not?" the Traveler calmly refuted, crossing their arms. "You're the one who's been guiding me and all the others, right?"

Aaaaaaaaaaand your confidence is gone.

You nervously rubbed your hands together and avoided looking at the Traveler. "Is that how you see it? I'm... guiding you?"

Paimon tilted their head. "Yeah...? What, you don't see it that way?"

You hesitated for a second before you finally shook your head.

"Then what do you see it as?"

You were now very afraid. You wanted to tell them your honest thoughts, but you worried how they would react to it. Would they be angry? Would they threaten you to stop? Would they start fighting you?

... ... ...

...Would they kill you? Was this all just an act to lower your guard?

You gulped, tugging at the neckline of your shirt. "I kind of see it as..." you sighed, looking back down at the stone table.

"...Possession."

You waited for a response but received none. The worst kind of response you can get.

"I felt like I was manipulating your actions without your consent," you continued, your voice barely audible over the sounds of the night. "That's why I tried to make things better. But even then, you still fought back. I thought that you hated me. I thought that you brought me here to get rid of me..."

"...But if you see my actions as 'guiding' you..." you looked up. "...Then what does that make me in your eyes?"

Both the Traveler and Paimon had concentrated expressions on their faces. You waited for either of their expressions to change, but you were also afraid of what the new one would become. Would they be satisfied with your answer? Would they be furious? You didn't want to know. So instead, you put your arms on the table and rested your forehead on top of them.

If you didn't want to use your eyes, you'd have to use your ears, instead. You thought of all the audible reactions you would expect to hear. A slam of fists or hands, yelling and shouting, the sound of a sword being drawn.

Or worse of all, silence. You can rarely tell what a person is thinking whenever they are silent.

...That's what scares you the most.

You waited with bated breath for a response and thankfully it wasn't long before you got one. First, you heard the sound of fabric scraping against stone. Next, you heard the shifting of sand. Lastly, you heard footsteps growing louder by the step.

The Traveler was walking over to you.

At this point, you wanted to do something instead of being vulnerable to a potential threat. But deep down, you knew that it was useless. You couldn't flee because it would take the Traveler mere seconds to catch up with you. You couldn't fight because you knew that you had no shot of going against someone who has gone toe-to-toe with gods.

You are vulnerable. You are weak. You are useless. You are worthless.

...You are going to die.

Tears began to well up in your eyes, but you fought the urge to cry. You probably looked pathetic to them already.

You heard a couple of more steps before they stopped. They were standing right behind you.

Silence.

...

... ...

... … …

*SHING*

...

... ...

... … …

*WHOOSH*

...

... ...

... … …

*CLANG*

...?

...You didn't expect that noise. It came from your left.

You turned towards the noise and spotted the Traveler's dull sword.

"...Huh?"

Suddenly, you felt their arms wrap loosely around your neck.

You immediately stiffened your spine and brought your hands on top of theirs. However, before you could throw them off your body, you felt their head rest on your shoulder. Then they stopped.

... ... …

...Now you were confused. What were they doing?

... ... …

...Wait...

... ... …

...Is this... a hug...?

Sure enough, the more you thought about it, the more you believed that the Traveler was hugging you.

...But why?

"To me... in my eyes..."

... ... …

"You're my friend..."

The Traveler slightly tightened their hug.

"And I wouldn't know what to do without you..."

... ... …

You've finally relaxed.

And now that you are, there's one thing that you'd like to do.

Slowly, to not startle the Traveler, you got up from your seat and turned towards them. You could tell that they were wondering why you got up.

They stopped wondering when you went up and hugged them back. It took a while, but they wrapped your arms around your back in a friendly embrace.

"I wouldn't know what to do without you either."

---------------------------------------------------------

THE END

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Author's Notes: And that's the end of that! Hope everybody enjoyed the ending!

New Author’s Notes: I added an epilogue to this series. You can either treat this as the ending or the latter. Whichever best fits your interests.

Thanks again for all who liked, reblogged, and/or commented on this little series. I appreciate each and every one of you!

[captainsophiestark]

Miscommunication

Kol Mikaelson x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for my personal fic writing challenge for 2024, Sophie's Year of Fic! Featuring a new fic being posted every Friday, all year long :)

Fandom: The Vampire Diaries/The Originals

Summary: You've finally worked up the courage to ask Kol on a date, but with all the people who've been trying to kill him lately, he jumps to the wrong conclusion about what's being asked of him. Set right after TVD "A View To A Kill", if Jeremy didn't succeed in killing Kol.

Word Count: 2,517

Category: Fluff, Humor

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"Hello, love. I wasn't expecting to get a call from you."

I grinned at the voice of the youngest Mikaelson brother coming through the other end of the phone. I'd met him at the Grill a few weeks ago, and we'd pretty much immediately hit it off. I'd been trying to work up the courage to ask him out ever since, and after overhearing his siblings talking about how close he'd come to dying recently, I'd decided to stop wasting time and just give him a call.

"Hi Kol. Uh, I know this is kind of out of the blue, but... well, I wanted to see if you wanted to maybe get together at some point and... talk. Hang out. All that... stuff..."

I grimaced. I'd never done this before, and it was probably painfully obvious, especially to a vampire with a literal thousand years of experience.

"You want to get together and talk?" asked Kol, a lilt to his voice that I couldn't quite decipher. Everything in me screamed that I should bail out, but I grit my teeth and forced myself to toughen up.

"Yeah. If that's something you'd want to do."

"Oh, it very much is." My heart stopped. I'd been sure this call was about to be a total fumble, but apparently, somehow it'd worked? "What did you have in mind?"

"Uh..." I mentally kicked myself. I'd spent so much time trying to work up the nerve to actually call him, I hadn't thought at all about what I would do if he actually said yes. "Well, I don't know. Is there anywhere you'd especially like to meet up? Or anything you'd like to do?"

"How about your house?" The doorbell rang. "Right now?"

My brain short circuited. He was here? Now? I wasn't ready at all! The house was fairly clean, and I didn't look like a total mess, but I also wasn't ready for a date! And wasn't a first date supposed to be about thirty degrees more chill and removed, like a going to a movie or dinner or something?

I forced myself to take a deep breath. Yes, this was technically a first date, but Kol and I had interacted before. We were friendly, maybe even friends. It's not like he was some stranger I was about to let into my home.

"Uh, sure. Now is... now is good. I take it you're the one at my door?"

"Yes I am, darling."

"Okay. Well, then... I guess I'll see you in a second."

I hung up the phone before I could make any more of a fool of myself, paused at the mirror in the hallway to quickly adjust my outfit, then strode confidently to the front door. If I pretended to be confident, it would probably rub off and turn into the real thing, right?

I swung open my door to find a grinning Kol on the other side, one arm raised and resting against the doorframe. My heart did a little backflip at that, and I just hoped his vampire senses hadn't clued him in on it.

"Well? Aren't you going to invite me in?"

"Oh! Right, yeah, come on in, Kol."

He grinned at me as he slowly, deliberately put one foot over the threshold, then the other. He paused once he officially stood in my house, facing me with a look like he expected me to have some kind of reaction. I just gave him a smile.

"Welcome in. Uh, I'll be honest, I wasn't really prepared for you to come over, like, now. But we can make some drinks, maybe play a board game or something? I actually think I have an at-home dart board buried somewhere around here if you want to get your ass kicked like you did the first time we met."

Kol huffed a laugh, a smaller, more genuine smile pulling onto his face as he shook his head at me.

"Well, now we have to play, don't we? I can't let my honor be tarnished without fighting back."

"I think it only counts as tarnishing your honor if it's not true," I mused as I led Kol into the kitchen, incredibly aware of how closely he followed behind me. If vampires could hear heart beats, then I was well and truly screwed.

"Exactly. I didn't get my ass kicked in darts, so what you said wasn't true."

I paused long enough to give Kol a judgey look over my shoulder, then walked around to the cabinets behind the kitchen island.

"Alright, I'll go dig out the dartboard in a minute, but let's figure out drinks first. I'll be honest, I'm not the best bartender, but I'll see what I can do."

"Here, let me. I'm an excellent bartender."

Kol reached for the bottles in my hand, but I paused, holding them slightly away from him. He leaned into me, and my heart did its stupid jumping jacks again, although I ignored it. Instead, I fixed Kol with another look.

"Are you an excellent bartender in the way you're an excellent dart player? Or are you actually an excellent bartender?"

Kol shook his head, an edged smile spread on his face as he reached across me and took the bottles from my hands. I was more than a little disappointed when he pulled away.

"Alright, I'm going to make us some drinks while you go and get that dart board, right now. We're going to settle this, once and for all."

"I'm still not totally sure that I actually have it," I reminded him, walking backwards out of the kitchen. Kol just hummed, shooting me one last look as he got to work on the drinks before I turned the corner.

As soon as I was out of his sight, I paused to take a few deep breaths. I was starting to feel seriously giddy hanging out with him like this, and I needed to calm the hell down. It was a casual first date, after all. I didn't need to get ahead of myself.

Once the butterflies in my chest had settled down a bit, I walked the rest of the way to the hall closet, or what I thought of as my junk closet. It was packed with things that were just useful or sentimental enough that I didn't want to throw them away, but that basically never came in handy on a regular basis. If that dartboard someone had gotten me for my birthday a few years ago was anywhere, it would be here.

I dug through a few boxes I thought might be likely candidates, trying to remember where past me might've put things last time I'd organized everything. Finally, after what felt like way too much searching, I found it at the bottom of a box on a higher shelf. Even better, a bag with all the darts still together was with it.

I grinned, doing a little triumphant fist pump to myself before turning to head out of the closet. In the doorway, however, I found Kol hovering, watching me intently, a menacing air about him that hadn't been there earlier.

"Hey... what are you doing?" I asked. He raised an eyebrow at me and crossed his arms.

"Me? I was about to ask you the same thing, darling. It really took you that long to find the dart board?"

I furrowed my eyebrows at him, watching for any clues as to what the hell he was doing before briefly glancing away to check the time my phone. Honestly, it hadn't even been that long.

"I mean, yes? Have you looked around this closet at all since you got here? It's a mess. How long have you been standing there, anyway?"

"I'm not an idiot, sweetheart," he said instead of answering me, taking another step forward. I narrowed my eyes at him. "I know you're back here messaging your little friends, trying to set up another ambush for me after the first one didn't work. I know how you Mystic Falls people like to operate."

My frown deepened. "Kol, what the hell are you talking about?"

"Don't play innocent with me, darling, it won't work. So who have you been texting?"

"No one, other than you! I knew you were acting weird on the phone, and when you first showed up. I thought my nerves were just getting the better of me, but apparently not."

"Nerves for what? Don't tell me Jeremy's going to come bursting through the door playing Van Helsing again."

"Jeremy who, Kol? Seriously, I have no idea what you're talking about."

For the first time since he'd appeared in the closet doorway, Kol seemed to believe me. His look changed from borderline threatening to almost as confused as my own.

"Jeremy Gilbert."

I paused, trying to place the name. It sounded familiar, but it took me a little while to figure out why.

"That's... Elena Gilbert's little brother? Right?"

"Yes. You're actually trying to tell me you don't know him?"

I scoffed. "Kol, of course I don't know him. I graduated from high school when he was still in middle school. I barely remember him or his sister."

He studied me, eyes scanning my face, apparently looking for some sign of a lie. I just watched him back, waiting on some kind of explanation for this to make sense.

"So you're not working with Elena and her little group of friends, then? Or either of the Salvatores?"

"No, Kol. Working with them on what?"

"You're not lying."

"I know I'm not lying! Now what the hell are you talking about?"

Kol sighed, slumping back against the doorframe a little, the tension easing out of his body although he still looked a little confused. I could relate.

"Elena and Jeremy tried to kill me not too long ago," he said, as if he was saying they'd asked him for directions on the street. "Elena tried to keep me busy by lying about wanting to discuss a truce with me. I assumed this was a terrible second attempt at the same thing."

I sighed, shaking my head and closing my eyes for a beat as I leaned against the shelf behind me. I knew he was a vampire, and I'd even known someone had tried to kill him recently. But somehow, I'd underestimated the level of ridiculous drama and miscommunication that would likely create.

"Yikes. Well... I'm glad you survived, and I can honestly tell you that I'm not a part of any plot to try to kill you. I can't even remember the last time I talked to Elena, and the only time I've ever talked to either of the Salvatores was when Damon was drunk and hit on me at the Grill."

Kol snorted. "Sounds familiar."

"I'm sure."

The two of us stayed put, neither moving to stand up or leave the closet, neither speaking either. The silence just hung, and I had no idea what I was supposed to do next, so it was a relief when Kol leaned forward, the menace in his posture gone and replaced by tentative curiosity.

"You know, this leaves us with a very important question."

"And what's that?"

"If you weren't trying to drive a stake through my heart... why did you call me and ask to meet up?"

And just like that, the relief was replaced with sheer nervous panic.

"Uh... well..."

Kol grinned and took a few steps towards me.

"You said you wanted to get together and talk," he said, a teasing tone to his voice that made my heart speed up at the same time that it made me want to give him a shove. "What exactly did you want to talk about, if not murdering me?"

I shook my head, trying and failing to keep a smile off my face. Kol was well and truly in my space now, standing right in front of me, one arm over my head and leaning against the shelf behind me. Based on the grin he gave me when I met his eyes, I got the feeling he could hear my heart racing.

"I... Well, I was trying to ask you on a date."

"Were you now?" asked Kol, his shit eating grin doubling in size. I huffed.

"Yes. And it took a lot of effort to work up the courage to actually go through with it, so if you're just messing with me right now with the whole leaning into my space and flirting thing, I might actually join Team Try To Kill Kol."

Kol just laughed and shook his head, leaning in a little bit further as he did. I couldn't help a subconscious glance at his lips, and with the way they curled up even further, I knew he'd noticed.

"I'd never dream of messing with you about this, darling. Honestly, this is the best news I've gotten in days. If I hadn't been working to keep a few different people from killing me, I would've asked you out a week ago."

I grinned. "Really?"

"Absolutely."

I huffed a happy, disbelieving laugh as Kol leaned the rest of the way in, his lips finding mine. Fireworks exploded in my chest at the sensation, especially as he wrapped one arm around my waist and pulled me closer to him. My hands found his shoulders, holding on tightly, and when I finally pulled away after a few long, long moments, I was a little breathless and a little dizzy.

"Now that was worth thinking I was about to be vampire-slayed," said Kol, grinning at me before starting to lean in again. I laughed, but put a hand to his chest to stop him.

"I agree, but this is still a first date. I want to actually talk to you and get to know you beyond the few conversations we've had at the Grill, not just make out in my closet."

"You didn't like making out in the closet?"

"I didn't say that." Kol grinned, and I gave him an exasperated smile of my own. "I like this, Kol, a lot. But I could've just kept flirting at you with the Grill if all I wanted was to make out with you. Dates are supposed to be... a little more than that, at least to me."

Kol sighed, bringing his hand up to cup my chin and running his thumb across my lips before stepping back. My heart was doing backflips, and from the smirk on his face, I knew he could tell.

"Alright then, darling. I'll give your version of a date a try. As much as I like making out in closets, it might be nice to just talk to you for a bit, too."

I beamed at him. "Good. Although, it doesn't have to be all talk." I retrieved the dartboard that had been shoved back onto a shelf when Kol had first gotten in my space and held it up. "We have a few things to settle, after all."

"Oh yes we do. Come on love, our drinks are waiting in the kitchen. You're going to need one, so you have something to blame your loss on later tonight."

"Keep talking, Twilight. It's just gonna make it that much sweeter when I win."

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

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989

TVD/TO Taglist: @elenavampire21

[slasherscream]

Wash Day

pairing:  jordan li x fem black!reader

"You wanna go out to dinner tonight? Know I've been busy this week. Feel like I've barely seen you." Jordan mutters against the shell of your ear. You shiver as he gives the skin a teasing kiss.

Already you're pouting, knowing what your answer has to be even though you wish so desperately that you could give a different response. "Wish I could, Jordan. But my night is already spoken for."

You're spun around by a hand on your hip, playful and fast so that you can't stop yourself from falling into his chest. Your hands grip his jacket for balance, and he reaches up to hold one of them with his own. "You got plans? With who? Cate? Cancel them."

"Brat." You laugh.

How demanding Jordan is would be less cute if they ever asked you to do something they themselves wouldn't. As it stands, with the way they do anything you ask at the drop of a hat, all you can do is roll your eyes and pretend to be exasperated instead of smitten.

"Fine, don't cancel. I'll just come with." Jordan sighs, as if seeing his best friend is a great tragedy (Which it is. Cate being there means you'll smack Jordan's hand away when he tries to sneak it up your skirt at dinner.)

"What if we want a girls' night?" You shoot back, grinning.

Jordan shifts. The hands on your waist are smaller now, but pull you in closer, "You're the one who's feeling bratty. Really have been neglecting you this week, huh baby?" Jordan smirks, in that condescending way she does when she realizes you're trying to get a certain reaction out of her.

"The plans aren't with Cate, and they aren't cancellable." You sigh, deciding not to rise to the bait of her tone, smirk, or the little circles she's rubbing into your skin.

"What are these oh so important plans?" Jordan asks.

"Do you know how many white boys have complimented my hair today, Jordan?" You ask.

"Pardon?" Jordan blinks at what seems to be a completely unrelated topic.

"Six! Six white boys complimented my braids today. I'm about to kill myself, if we're being honest. I must looked fucked up, and you didn't even say anything." You pout.

You've been having a bit of a rough day, to say the least.

"You look beautiful. What are you talking about?" Jordan asks, confused but nonetheless, wanting to make you feel better. "If you didn't look good I'd very politely... have Cate tell you. But you look great! You've been getting compliments all day, you just said it yourself!"

"Wow, you'd throw Cate under the bus, huh coward?"

"Cate isn't interested in making out with you every spare second of the day. I am. You can be mad at her. I've got stuff I wanna do." Jordan's grin is downright salacious. You smack her arm, trying not to smile.

"Ah. You are operating under the same delusions of the white man. I see that now, I'll let go of the anger." You say, sighing and kissing Jordan on the cheek.

"First of all, don't you ever fucking insult me like that again.... Second of all, what particular delusion am I sharing with the white man?" Jordan asks.

"White men only compliment a black woman's hairstyle at two points in time. When it's brand spanking, fresh off the lot new. Or when it's started to look like shit. I've had these braids in for longer than... is your business. So guess which compliment I'm getting right now?"

"I fucking refuse to say your hair looks like shit, and this conversation feels like a trap. You're always beautiful to me." Jordan says.

"Thank you, baby. But we live on a campus where the diversity win photographers lurk around every corner trying to get pictures of 'The Diversity Win Couple' in our most natural state. I need to take out my braids tonight before I talk crazy in the group chat, and Andre sends me a 'this you?' pic that will devastate my argument." You shake your head somberly, already imagining the fate that lies before you.

"You could stop talking crazy in the group chat." Jordan teases.

"You know damn well I'm not capable of that."

The two of you burst into laughter, unable to keep it together. Jordan has always been obsessed with how easy it is for you to make them laugh.

"Is that gonna take up your whole night, though, baby? We don't have to go to dinner early! We'll go wherever you want." Jordan insists, tone bordering on begging.

Whenever they come out of a particularly busy week, they spend the next two weeks glued to you. As if to make up for it. The clinginess is a stark difference from how they acted before you made things official.

"Jordan, look at the braids on my head."

"I'm looking at them."

"Are you seeing them with your eyes?"

"Yes, and my eyes are sending the image to my brain, which I assure you is working. What's your point here, baby?"

"How long do you think it will take me to undo these, detangle my hair, wash it, deep condition it, and then wash it again?"

Jordan squints at you for a long moment, analyzing your hairstyle and the utter displeasure on your face. "I dunno? Maybe... four hours?"

"I should fucking murder you. Just for that, you're helping me with wash day now."

Jordan's face breaks into a grin like sunlight breaking through clouds, "So I do get to spend the day with you, is what you're saying?"

"Yeah, baby, you get to spend the day with me." You click your tongue at them. Pitying them for the ache in their fingers they're about to feel. They complain about curling their God damn hair a couple of times a week. You suspect you'll be ready to kill one another by hour two.

But you also missed them a lot. Or whatever.

"Don't cut too high up, Jordie. " You whine, shifting his grip lower on your braid, to an acceptable cutting length of the hair extension.

"Baby... can I ask you a very serious question right now?" Jordan hums, obediently cutting where you instructed.

"What?" You ask, already starting to unbraid the piece.

"How... long... do you think your hair is?" Jordan, to be fair to him, does ask the question quietly and with the proper amount of hesitation.

"How dare you! Are you calling me bald?" You gasp, stifling a laugh.

"Don't do this to me. You are prolonging the process. We can cut these braids at least four inches higher than what we're doing right now." Jordan says, you can't see his face but you can tell he's also trying not to laugh. Bastard.

"My hair grew!"

"From the top of your head. It did not magically lower itself further into the fucking braid extension." Jordan loses the battle and laughs.

"Jordan Li do not fucking cut off any of my hair or I'll cry and then blow up this school."

"Of course, princess." Jordan kisses the top of your head and gives in to your terrorist demands because you're cute.

"So how am I supposed to do it, baby?" Jordan claps her hands and you smile at how eager she sounds to help.

"You're gonna want to section it off. Do like... eight parts of hair. That'll make literally every step after this easier. Then you're gonna comb the hair from the bottom, 'kay?"

"Got it."

Jordan starts the process of parting your hair, careful and slow. Fingers sectioning off eight chunks of hair that she keeps apart with the silky hair ties you hand her over your shoulder.

"You sure you don't want me to comb it, Jordie?" You ask Jordan.

"I'll be gentle, don't worry. You always say your shoulders hurt at the end of wash day. Which is crazy, because I've seen what you can bench. I've got you, baby." She spritzes extra detangler spray on each of the parts she just made.

You move around slightly, a little sore already from sitting still between her legs for so long, but smiling to yourself nonetheless. A pillow is suddenly shoved into your face and you lean away, confused.

"Sit on this one instead. It'll be better." Jordan says.

You switch out the pillows and tilt your head back to look at her. "Why're you always right? Is that your kink?"

"No, my kink is bossing you around." Jordan smirks and leans down to give you a kiss. Despite the awkward angle you can't help trying to deepen the contact. The feeling of her soft lips sliding against yours, firm but gentle, is always irresistible.

She hums and gives you a playful nip before pulling away. "Don't start something we can't finish."

"Who says we can't?" You shoot back, staring up at her.

"You will be pissed an hour from now if you glance at your phone and we haven't made any progress." Jordan runs her thumb along your bottom lip before pushing your head forward.

"Who says it will take an hour?"

"I do. If we start, I'm not stopping." Jordan's voice dips seductively and a line of tension runs up the length of your spine.

You smack her thigh for teasing you, "Shut up."

"Is this comfortable?" Jordan frowns, staring at the angle your head has to be at to fit in the bowl of the sink.

"No, but this is the best angle this chair can get me to." You say. Usually you just wash in the shower, but since Jordan is helping the sink makes more sense.

Jordan stands, scowling at how uncomfortable you seem. Suddenly he grins, "Baby! Make a chair with your shields. Something that leans."

You were getting a lot better with being able to make complex shapes, with less concentration. You stand up from the chair you'd dragged from the common room. Jordan pulls it out of the way and gives you an encouraging thumbs up.

It takes you a minute, but you conjure a shield that resembles a salon chair and the both of you let out identical cries of delight.

Jordan pushes you to sit down with a kiss on your forehead. "That's my fucking girl. Tell me if the temperature is too hot."

Jordan washes your hair with the perfect amount of pressure and thoroughness. He's nearly rhythmic in his methodical cleaning. You didn't realize your eyes had fluttered closed until you hear him laugh. You open one eye to glare at him playfully, knowing he won't get soap in them.

"What's so funny?"

"You're like a cat. You gonna purr for me, baby?" He smirks.

"If you keep going like that, yeah. Or I'll fall asleep. Please don't make me fall asleep. I'll fall on my ass." You say.

"I'll endeavor to make the rest of the wash as unpleasant as possible."

He does not do that. And at one point you do fall asleep. Jordan catches you before you can actually fall. 'Thank God for Supe reflexes', you both think. You spend the rest of the wash with your eyes wide open and Jordan laughing at you.

"Did we put too much?" Jordan asks, dabbing at another drip of oil and conditioner down your brow.

"No, this is typical. The hair has to be saturated. It's dripping because the oil is you know... getting hot and even more liquid-y." You say, eyeing the episode of Property Brother's you'd both decided on. "Hm. I think that woman should be put to death."

Jordan was keeping vigilant about dabbing at the sides of your face. You'd been in charge of one side, at first. But Jordan seemed to have a sixth sense for when the other side was dripping as well, and kept interrupting you before you could get to any trickles of oil. You'd given up and just started narrating the show for her as she wasn't taking her eyes off the line of your brow.

"Why? What did she do?" Jordan dabs again.

"She wants to put up a fence that blocks the view of the historical house that she did not have to buy if she wanted a fence so bad." You roll your eyes.

"Is the city gonna let her?"

"No."

"Haha. 500k down the drain." Jordan cackles.

"Anti-gentrification win!" You hold out your fist for a fist-bump and Jordan obediently obliges, oil soaked rag still held in her fist.

A comfortable silence falls over you two, besides the noise of the portable hair dryer.

"I really think we put too much, baby." Jordan mutters, dabbing again.

"I have been doing this since I was twelve, Jordan!"

"Play the video again, one speed slower this time." Jordan's eyes are glued to your phone.

You're sitting between his legs again, cushioned by the (superior) pillow of his choosing. You were trying to decide on a simple hair style when Jordan saw a picture of Mini Twists and got excited to see you in them.

("You've already seen me in mini twists, Jordie. What are you talking about?"

"You weren't my girlfriend the last time you wore them though! Now you are, and I get to look at you as much as I want."

So that had decided that.)

"Okay, I think I got it. 'M gonna start with a braid base, without making the parts too big, then start twisting the hair with two strands, and that will make it last longer, right?"

"Right." You smile at how focused Jordan sounds.

They're hot when they're in the zone. You just didn't think they'd get so into helping you with your hair. But you should have known, really. Acts of service paired with their inner perfectionist? You're completely relaxed at this point. You know Jordan won't have you walking out of your room looking crazy, come hell or high water.

"Is this okay?" Jordan shows you a picture of the back of your head, three rows of twists done.

You gasp, snatching the phone, "That's my head?"

"Uh... yes?" Jordan answers slowly.

"The back of my head? The head on my body?"

"Should I start over?"

"Fuck you! These are almost better than mine. Who's hair are you playing around in when I'm not here, Jordan LI?"

"Stop using my fucking government name." Jordan tilts your head back to look at him with a gentle grip on your neck, grinning down at you. "You play too fucking much. You sure they're good, princess? It's okay if I need to redo them."

"I'm gonna give you orgasms that will make you lose brain cells."

"Baby!" Jordan laughs, rolling his eyes. "I'm serious. Do any of them need redoing?"

"The first row is really fucking good for a beginner but the second row is damn near perfect." You say.

"I'll redo the first row then." Jordan kisses your temple before moving you to face forward again.

"I said they were good!" You protest.

"But the second row is better. I want the whole thing to look good. Don't want you feeling self conscious cause I fucked up the style, y'know." Jordan mumbles.

You tilt your head back to look at him, ignoring him sucking his teeth (a habit he picked up from you) at you moving.

"I love you, Jordie. Thank you for helping me today." You coo.

You watch his face go red with a grin. He grins back, leaning down to give you a gentle kiss. When he tries to pull away too soon you whine, holding him close by the hair at the nape of his neck.

"Wanna kiss you. You're sweet." You breathe the words against his lips, insistently continuing the caress.

He sighs, smitten, and let's you lead for a moment. Hand finding it's way back to your neck and tightening just enough to make you gasp. Still, he pulls away too quickly.

"I'm gonna fuck you up." You scowl at him.

"The only thing you're gonna fuck up is your neck, brat. This is a horrible angle for you." Jordan's smile is so soft at the edges it's your turn to blush.

"Speak for yourself."

"No, I'm too busy speaking on behalf of your neck."

"Well, I'm speaking on behalf of my-"

"Pussy?"

"I was going to say raging hormones but that's a lot more to the point, yeah. Or maybe I was going to say something romantic. You ever think of that, Jordie? Huh?"

"Were you going to say something romantic?" Jordan hums.

"No."

"Let me do your hair in peace." Jordan turns you forward again with a laugh.

"Turn this way." Jordan instructs, snapping another picture.

"I don't know whether you're worse than an Instagram hair stylist or a Mom." You ponder, words barely audible because your girlfriend is scary.

"Shut up and smile." Jordan scowls.

As if engraved into your genetic code the words make you do just that. You suffer through another 20 pictures being taken before you say enough is enough.

Jordan happily shows you the pictures, as if you hadn't seen yourself in the mirror just a minute ago. Or ever. The grin on her face so wide it looks like it hurts.

"You like it, baby?" Jordan asks again.

"It looks so good, Jordie. It looks like I paid someone honestly."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." You drape your arms around her shoulders. "How's this angle?"

"For what?" Jordan tilts her head to the side, puzzled.

"For kissing. Since you were so worried about the angle before."

Jordan scoffs, but she's the one to pull you in. She doesn't pull away this time.

A/N: i needed reader to have a goofball vibe because i have a goofball vibe. if you enjoyed this fic consider reblogging, leaving a reply, or an anonymous ask saying you enjoyed it! a writers fuel is engagement. xoxoxo

[flawseer]

Ok, these time rate me the Jade WInglets

I've been sitting on this work-in-progress picture for so many months now. Maybe if I post it here, I'll finally sit down and finish it.

Very long post incoming.

Discussing the Jade Winglet

Okay. So, you want me to rate the Jade Winglet group. That’s going to be very easy: I love all of them.

It’s also going to be extraordinarily hard because... well... I love all of them. How am I supposed to put them into an ordered list? It can’t be done. So I guess what I’m going to do is: First I will put them into a tier list, and then I’m going to just talk about each of them individually for a bit.

But on account of aforementioned adoration I have for all of these guys, said tier list is going to be very lopsided. The tiers are going to be “I adore them with the intensity of seven suns”, “I really like them”, and “I very much like them, but...”. You’re going to have to imagine that there are five or so more unused tiers below that.

Let’s unceremoniously get that ranking out of the way first. From top to bottom, the tiers are:

I adore Turtle, Qibli, and Winter.

I really like Moonwatcher, Kinkajou, and Peril.

I very much like Umber and Carnelian.

As for more in-depth commentary, here is a disclaimer: When I think about these guys I mostly consider books 6 (Moon Rising) to 9 (Talons of Power) and the first half of 10 (Darkness of Dragons). The second half of 10... if I’m being honest, I didn’t really enjoy it. I don’t want to go into it too much here, if you really want me to talk about my misgivings with the second arc finale, put a message about it in my inbox (it’s not just the obvious thing; it actually mostly pertains to Winter and the absolute nightmare ending he got saddled with, and some very unfortunate character implications).

Some of my musings are also going to be a bit critical. I just want it to be clear that I make these observations as a fan of the series. It’s a good practice to think critically even about media that you like. It helps you better understand why you like it in the first place. Also, I make no demands to be agreed with. This is just how I see it.

Anyway, enough stalling, let’s get into it. Not in order:

Turtle

CW: Parental abuse

Turtle is the most wonderful thing to ever happen in the history of the universe. I wake up every morning and the first thought in my head is “Ugh, another day in this backwards reality where Turtle is not real! No thanks!!” Then I go right back to sleep disappointed until the next day. Okay, maybe that’s a bit hyperbolic. But I do think that everyone’s lives would be greatly improved if Turtle was real.

Turtle is a very vibrant and insightful character who, much like Winter, is unfortunately cursed with a pair of malicious and incompetent "parents". Some of his scenes really hurt to get through if you’re a parent yourself or have ever had parental feelings. The first scene he is in, when Moon observes him arriving at the academy, his mother makes a passing comment about how Turtle has no value because he cannot inherit the throne. Turtle is within earshot when she does this. And he has no overt reaction to it, which to me hints that Coral asserts this about her male children so frequently that he has accepted her line of thinking and internalized it. He just accepts it as the truth. That is heartbreaking.

And then there is his father, mild-mannered and ostensibly gentle Gill, who killed Turtle’s budding interest in writing as well as the entirety of his self-confidence back when he was a kid, by assigning a little boy a task that was well beyond him (and only to him, even though there were more people present who could have helped), and then made him believe he killed his unborn sister when Turtle inevitably couldn’t do what he was asked. The narrative really tries to make Gill sympathetic in that moment by insisting he’s speaking in anger and doesn’t really mean it, but um, no. I don’t buy it, dude. You just gave a little kid a lifelong guilt complex because you couldn’t think of asking more people for help. Or taking the egg with you while you left the hatchery. Or telling Turtle to take a message to the palace guard so someone who didn’t still have their milk teeth could mount a proper, organized search while interim guards were posted in the hatchery. Or literally any of the thousands of other options that didn’t require traumatizing your own son.

As a result, Turtle became emotionally reclusive. He registers to others as dull, placid, unpassionate, and boring, like he cares about nothing and is content to never strive for or achieve anything in his life. He himself explains that writing used to be something he was into at some point, but then lost interest in. But I don’t think he has. He still loves literature and thinking about stories, he's still doing it in his internal monologue. He just denies it because he subconsciously feels the need to punish himself. I imagine he still gets that drive sometimes, to sit down and start writing again. But every time he thinks about it, or catches himself wanting anything, his father’s voice resurfaces in his mind, telling him that he killed his sister and doesn’t deserve it. And then he self-punishes by depriving himself of everything he loves doing and every positive emotion associated with it. Because he is convinced he is guilty for failing his father, when in actuality, the opposite is true.

The tragedy is that, if Gill had known how much damage he caused and wasn’t in a situation where he needed a flowchart to keep his 30+ sons apart, he probably would have apologized. He doesn’t strike me as malicious, just horribly, horribly incompetent as a parent. But as things played out, Gill is no longer able to fix his mistake. The only person who can now grant Turtle the forgiveness he needs is himself. I hope he will be able to do it.

Turtle truly is an endearing character and a wonderful son undeserved by his parents. If I could adopt him right now I would. In fact, I’m gonna do it. Hold on while I get the papers. Wait, I have to finish? Uh... okay.

Moonwatcher

In a sense, Moonwatcher may be the most interesting character in the entire cast. She certainly had the potential to be my favorite character period. But there are a few points holding her back.

The thing about Moonwatcher is that, more than any other character, she requires meticulous care and attention to detail to be written well. The reason for this is that, when you’re writing for Moon, you also technically write for every character she interacts with. She is written brilliantly in her own book, since the narrative is allowed to focus on her; Moon Rising may thus actually be my favorite book of the second arc. It’s very enrapturing, seeing her navigate the academy’s social dynamics after growing up as, essentially, a feral jungle child, and battling with her own feelings of loneliness and inadequacy.

The thing is though... Wings of Fire has a bit of an odd quirk. Something I’ve noticed with regards to its writing is that, whenever a character is not particularly in focus during a scene, they often get reduced to their most basic traits and will rigidly act according to them regardless of prior context or external factors. I call this phenomenon “Auto-pilot”. If you’ve read my Mail Call #3, this is what I think happened to Tsunami during the second arc—Tsunami’s basic traits are that she is bossy, emotional, and blunt, so she spends the entirety of her page time as a deep-sea-themed wrecking ball who yells at everyone and dismisses everything as “ugh, nightwing powers” and “Peril was bad in book 1 once, I hate her forever”, despite having other, more pressing matters to prioritize.

Whenever Moonwatcher gets set to auto-pilot, it is very depressing. She needs careful, attentive writing to shine, and whenever she doesn’t get it she turns from the most interesting character into a dull brick that recites exposition and occasionally exists to be fawned after by boys. Tragically, the auto-pilot hits her bad after Winter’s book is done, and she never manages to escape it afterwards, save for maybe one or two scenes. There is a particularly egregious example in book 10 that, in my opinion, does permanent, irreversible damage to her character. It’s all a bit soul-crushing if dwelt on.

So yeah, I like Moonwatcher. I really do. I just wish the strong way she was written could have carried through the entire arc.

Winter

CW: Parental abuse

I initially didn’t really know what to make of Winter when I read Moon’s book. He seemed kind of like a buttface who was needlessly hostile and unapproachable. But he really comes into his own in his book, and looking back at his earlier scenes with that new context makes it all make sense. He became one of my stand-out favorites after that.

Winter really has a lot in common with Turtle, so much so that I wish those two actually had some deeper interactions with each other. Like, at one point Turtle saves his life, you’d think they would want to talk about that some time. Where Turtle’s parents are one half malicious, one half incompetent, Winter’s are pure malice AND incompetence. Blessed with three children, they managed to completely ruin one of them, almost ruin the other, and then the third one is kind of out of focus so I don’t know how he is faring, but I doubt there is a lot of love there either.

In a way, you can draw a lot of parallels between Winter and Icicle, and Zuko and Azula from Avatar: The Last Airbender—The unfavorite who tries to do right but constantly fails to live up to his father’s/parents' warped standards, and the prodigy who seemingly has her father’s/parents' approval but secretly suffers from the abusive parenting just as much, but in different ways. Hailstorm then tries to take on the role of Iroh, an older figure that acts as a source of positivity and genuine love, and offers a reprieve from the abuse. But where Iroh is an adult drawing from a lifetime of wisdom, Hailstorm is just the slightly older sibling who comes from the same abusive household battling the same demons, so his effectiveness in countering the toxicity is limited.

Where Zuko pursues honor, Winter strives to be strong. Both his parents and his sister perceive him as weak and label him irrelevant. While this hurts him deeply, I don’t think Winter fully surrendered to his inferiority complex until he heard his brother mirror the same sentiment at him. Winter is repressed and struggles with processing his emotions—Thus he heard the words Hailstorm only said to save his life and took them at face value. Even the person he loves the most, the only source of affection and affirmation in his life, thinks he is weak. This is what drives Winter to feverishly desire strength and thus adopt a persona of the strongest thing he knows: a stoic Icewing warrior.

This is why he acts the way he does in book 6: aloof, threatening, unapproachable, invincible. But all of these traits are diametrically opposed to his actual personality, which is warm, compassionate, and just wanting to be loved for who he is. So whenever Moon reads his mind, he comes across as a confused mess of conflicting emotions. Because he is pretending to be something he isn’t.

The interesting thing here is that Winter actually is genuinely strong. He is just unable to recognize his own worth, due to the toxic way royal Icewings are raised, warping his perception of what strength means. When he meets Foeslayer, who is said to be an ancient enemy of his people, his mind cuts through the veneer of tradition and old bullshit justifications and sees her imprisonment for the cruel injustice that it is. He then undoes that injustice and frees her. It takes an incomprehensible amount of personal integrity and willpower to just casually defy the will of your entire country like that. This is equivalent to treason; by aiding her, Winter risks becoming an enemy of his people on par with Foeslayer herself. And he does it anyway, because it is the right thing to do.

This dissonance in his perception of strength with regards to his Icewing upbringing, and the actual strength he embodies and has embodied all this time, is something I would have liked to see explored more in the finale or something. As it stands now, he got pressured into putting his life on the line in the battle for Jade Mountain, has sworn loyalty to a people that mistreated him and tried to ruin him from a young age, and then got saddled with an existential nightmare of an ending that leaves me baffled to this day.

In terms of personal misfortune, he certainly is the Starflight of his group.

Qibli

CW: Parental abuse

Qibli is a very charming and versatile character. It is easy to imagine him in a variety of different situations and the scenes almost write themselves, especially when there’s another person with him whom he can bounce off of (figuratively, though I wouldn’t put it past him to try to literally bounce off of someone too). The 10th book posits him as some kind of parallel to Darkstalker; the latter even overtly states this and tries to recruit him as a manner of apprentice. It’s interesting because I think they are actually pretty different.

Qibli excels in situations where his options are limited. He is great at thinking on his feet and coming up with solutions to problems within a restricted framework. He'd be great in an escape room. This ability of his is shown throughout the arc, but it is especially visible in Moon Rising, where his presence in a scene often makes Moon stronger, or more adept at solving problems, because his mind is breaking down the situation for her in a way she would be unable to see on her own.

The twist then comes in when you take Qibli out of that limited framework, by giving him power. His pronounced intellect is very peculiar; it needs limitation to be brilliant. When he has unhindered access to all-powerful magic (i.e. doesn’t have to clear his ideas with another person), he turns into a colossal idiot who buries cities in sand and almost blows up inhabited mountains.

It only follows that, if you were to give Qibli what he wants and make him an animus, it would absolutely ruin him. The great intellect he cultivated would wither and, unshackled from the limitations that forced him to think critically and be his most excellent self, he would end up destroying himself, and likely others too.

Another interesting facet of Qibli is how he works as a parallel to Winter and Turtle (and Peril to an extent). All of these characters come from broken homes and have suffered under abusive parental figures. Qibli’s case in particular is interesting because it showcases how your circumstances can make a difference in how well you handle that issue. Qibli suffered under a tyrannical mother and a pair of cruel siblings, but in contrast to his peers, someone from the outside noticed his suffering was able to intervene—Thorn saved him from his hell and became his rescue parent, restoring his confidence and sense of self-worth.

Because of this, when his turn comes to confront his demons, while it is still difficult and painful (because trauma always is), he is able to navigate the confrontation with comparatively more grace and control than the others. The contrast really shows how difficult it is to escape a toxic relationship if you are still mired deeply within it, and how you need to put some distance between yourself and it before you can see where you are and what needs to be done with improved clarity. That is the path to healing.

I could probably keep talking about Qibli for 15 more paragraphs, but I’ll spare you.

Kinkajou

Every protagonist (and a good deal of side characters) in Wings of Fire is broken, usually has some kind of gut-wrenching past (often due to terrible parents), and struggles to find their place in the world. Luckily here is a pink-and-yellow Rainwing who is just happy and everything is fantastic and wholesome, right?

CW: Forced starvation

Nah, Kinkajou had it pretty rough too. The story plays it like it’s a humorous quip when she finds out Moonwatcher is her roommate and bemoans that nobody is taking her “trauma” seriously, but... yeah, it actually is legitimate trauma. She was captured, bound, and trapped on a hell island without sunlight for several weeks. While there, she was not fed, and she helplessly watched people whom she knew from early childhood starve and die. Death by starvation is not pretty, she likely had to witness her friends slowly being driven mad by hunger until they withered away, and couldn’t do anything about it. Then she was rescued and returned to a home that didn’t believe her pain was real, that claimed she made it up for attention, and that some people who she thought of as friends didn’t even notice she was gone. The only one who believed her was a stranger whom she had met maybe a few hours ago.

Personally, if that happened to me and I came home to that, I’d likely have pulled a Chameleon and said “Screw the Rainwings, I’m moving to the desert.”

That Kinkajou is still able to be positive and full of energy after that is a testament to her immense mental fortitude. She might actually be one of the most stable and resilient characters in the story. Some things shake her up for a bit, but nothing can crush her.

Still, I imagine there are some times, after a really bad day maybe, where she wakes up in the middle of the night. And there, for just a moment, she is scared to open her eyes... because she might be back on the Nightwing island and has to watch someone else die.

Peril

Peril is a bit of an odd case in arc 2. She gets grouped with the protagonists of that arc and the ending implies she is integrated into the Jade Winglet as their new Skywing. I have no real problem with that, in fact it’s good on her that she’s made a little less isolated. But to me, Peril always felt like an awkward appendix to that group. Her only real friend in there is Turtle; for the rest of them they feel more like vague acquaintances, like she's tolerated for being Turtle's friend.

To be fair though, that friendship with Turtle is really strong; it’s an exciting and deep character dynamic. But if I was forced to tie Peril to a group of protagonists, my first instinct would be to associate her with the first arc protagonists instead.

This poor girl has been through it. Everyone seems to hate her and wants her to leave, sometimes for understandable reasons and sometimes it just seems bizarre. I already went into Tsunami’s disdain for her in an earlier post, but I also vaguely remember a point in Escaping Peril where she meets Qibli and he gives her a withering glare for some reason. That confused me, to be honest. I thought “What’s YOUR problem with her? Have you ever even met??” Like, I guess the Outclaws were in direct conflict with Burn since they lived in the same country, and Peril was an infamous elite combatant under the command of one of Burn’s allies, so maybe Peril killed people he knew? But then he gets over his disdain really quickly and with no comment, so whatever happened can’t have been a big deal after all.

My favorite part in her book is when everyone--after having learned about Turtle’s powers--chews him out for not having helped his country during the war, and Peril cuts through the tripe by saying something along the lines of “So if he uses the power he was born with to serve his Queen it is honorable, but when I do the same for my Queen I’m a murderer and deserve to have things thrown at me?” I love all of these guys, but they really deserved to be called out for their double standard and feel stupid for a bit.

But yeah, I really enjoy her friendship with Turtle in the end. And since he accidentally made himself virtually indestructible, it means Peril can now get all the friendly hugs she craves.

Umber

Umber is cool. He has a potentially interesting relationship with Turtle, which is implied in the latter’s book when it is mentioned that they sleep with their backs touching to comfort each other about their respective siblings not being there.

Unfortunately he gets written out of the story arc very quickly. I wish I knew more about him.

Carnelian

I like Carnelian. I feel like she had a lot of potential that gets wasted by her death, for not much gain. It is used to give Queen Ruby a reason to come to Jade Mountain and kickstart the events of Peril’s book, but the same could have been accomplished by having her learn that the Academy is housing Peril and going there to demand the extradition of a (in her eyes) dangerous and murderous fugitive.

Same as with Umber, really, I wish I knew more about her. I already said this during my Smaugust drawing session, but I like to pretend that she and Bigtail didn’t die, and instead had a mini arc about recovering from their injuries. It also has the side effect of averting some very unfortunate implications that come with Bigtail’s death.

~~~

I think that’s all of them. Good lord I talk too much. Please don’t throw crocodiles at my face for it. Tumblr is my queen, and--much like the Queen's former champion--I was made to do it.

[kaciebello]

Too many voicemails

Masterlist Delivery Express ✿ Summary: The reader sees an opportunity to run an untapped market in Hogwarts.  Howlers are the worst thing that can be delivered. Warnings: disturbance in the library, one (1) use of horny joke, no use of y/n Authors note: English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes beforehand. I want to spread this into a one-shot series. They took away my yellow colouring of the text ┬─┬ノ(ಠ_ಠノ). I will riot. Proofread by me and me only (Ｔ▽Ｔ) • Previously: Wrong address, • Next part: Message cannot be sent word count: 1.1k

Notes to deliver: 679

A box with neatly placed envelopes slammed on the table making all the boys look up and then up to the familiar girl with a yellow bow in her hair. She received a few looks from the other kids in the library which she apologetically smiled at.

“What you got there?” Asked Lorenzo, leaning to see inside the box.

“Howlers.”

“Howlers?”

“Howlers.” A definitive nod from the girl. Leaning on the table over all the boys. They all look from their homework, waiting for her to continue but she does not.

“What are you doing with all of these?” Asks Draco, chewing on the end of his pencil. The girl just rolls her eyes.

“Delivering them, what else.” Her answer made Draco roll his eyes and pretends to return to his DADA homework. She just smiles. Lorenzo moves a bit so she can squeeze next to him.

“And you think bringing them to the library is a good idea?” Hissed Blasie, clearly not in the mood to get in trouble with the librarian. She just gives him a tight lip smile and titles her head to a side. 

“Where else?” She asks and puts her legs over Lorenzo's lap otherwise she risks falling from the bench. She just lifted her hand in stop motion before he could say anything else.

“I am just here to give Lorenzo Charms notes, I am not delivering anything to you,” She says and pulls out the said notes from her bag. Lorenzo's smile widens and grabs it from her. Theodor gives her a pointed look before trying to snatch the notes from Lorenzo, unsuccessfully. Lorenzo and the girl sway a bit but they manage to keep themself on the bench.

“Why does he get that privilege, hm?” He asks them. Pointing to the notes that are now lifted above Lorenzo's head. Draco tilted his head so he could read the visible portion before writing down whatever he could make out.

“ Because I like-” “ Because Lorenzo helps her with broom riding.” Cuts her off Mattheo, who was now going through the many howlers sitting in the box. Although seems like he hasn't found anything interesting. Draco looks at her with a raised eyebrow. ‘ you can't ride the boom?’ leaves him amused. To her, it seemed like he was mocking her for not being able to ride the broom like the rest of them. Completely ignoring, in her mind, that they are all quidditch players. She just huffs and crosses her arms.

“Hey, you know what? If they all went off, we could easily sneak into the restricted section.” Says Mattheo completely oblivious to what he just revealed. The girl gets up and stands next to him, inching the box away from him slowly.

“How about we don't.” She says, not trusting the boy to not do without thinking. “ plus I think like 15 of these are from one girl, all to one boy. I'm gonna be honest I don't think I wanna hear that.” She finishes and pats Mattheo on the back

“I'm here for you if you need oral support- moral support, I mean moral support.” Says Mattheo, pulling her to a side hug.

“Just say you're horny and go.” Tells him Blasie with a disgusted face. Theodor just shakes his head at his antics. Mattheo just shrugs and lets go of the girl, unbored by their reactions. Going back to his seat. A book flies past them and they barely have time to dodge it.

“I swear, it's gonna kill someone one day.” Says Lorenzo looking at the books flying by.

“Like you haven't summoned like 5 books for the 3 hours we were here.” Argues Draco. Lorenzo did not even bother to react, instead talking to the girl.

“ What do you think it's in them?” He says and reaches for one of the envelopes. Snatching it before the girl could stop him. Opening it, it slipped from his hand and started floating above the table. The group watched like hawks. 

The envelope stayed silent for some time, terrible singing after that. A horrible attempt at the song ‘I Will Always Love You’ had the boys scrambling to shut the envelope up. Matheo managed to lay down on it and silenced it. Some people were looking at them, some with curiosity, some with annoyance. If looks could kill, there would be an empty table at the library right now.

Mattheo pulls it out from beneath him, thinking it is over. Once the envelope is free, it starts to sing again. Panic among all of them. Lorenzo almost knocked over the box but the girl luckily caught it. Blaise, seeming the one who was holding their shared brain cell, pulled out his wanted and set the envelope on fire. Again receiving some looks. Even the librarian was making her way up to stairs to check the commotion.

They all watched it burn, sinking into their seat in relief, before quickly spewing the ashes away. The girl quickly sat and squished herself next to Lorenzo and pretended to help him with his homework. The other followed her lead so that the librarian would not suspect it was them. None of them wanted to be kicked out of the library.

After some time, the air seemed less stuffed and they all felt like they could breathe again. Without much more time, the girl gets up and hurriedly takes the box in her hands.

“I'll go before you guys decide to cause trouble again.” She says giving them a judging look.

“ Hey don't blame all of us! We didn't collectively open the howler!” Defends Theodor. and points accusing Lorenzo, who looked shocked and offended his friend was throwing him under the bus.

“Yeah, but you didn't try to stop him either, did you.” 

“ Neither did you!” Draco chimes in. She could not argue with that, she didn't try at all. Shaking her head. She adjusted the box on her hands, as it was a bit heavy. Maybe she could have charmed it to just float behind her and follow her. It would certainly make the delivery much easier.

“It's better none of you are near these, ever.” She says making sure to point at the group with her finger.

The girl picked up her box, ready to be on her way. Accio was heard from somewhere in the library and a book flew right next to her head, startling her. She jumped up and the box flew out of her hands. With horror they all watched as it landed on the floor, realizing all the howlers inside. They all turned on. 50 howlers, going on in the library at the same time. She watched in horror as all eyes were on them. The boys knew what to do. They packed their bags with unwitnessed speed and book it. Lorenzo grabs her hand, making sure she follows them.

And honestly, they were right, it was an excellent distraction, and none of them made their way to the restricted sections.

Notes to deliver: 629

Tag list:

@daisiesformylove , @klimovatereza-blog , @lafrone , @enfppixie , @rafegfs , @frogtape , @lovelyygirl8 , @catiwinky, @anyam444 , @leeleecats , @ghostgardn , @reverse-soe , @ultramarinetovelvet , @jazz-berry @iwishigotswallowed

[pauli-writes]

OMG—YOUR LATEST AVENTURINE POST HAS ME ON THE FLOOR. I would love to see a part two if you’d be okay with writing it!

warning: usual ipc crimes (mentions of slavery and destroying planets)

pairing: aventurine x reader

author’s note: hiii, i’m glad you enjoyed it as much as i had fun writing it. i was planning on doing a part 2 anyways so here ya go <3 (do i hear a possible part 3???)

part I

aventurine didn’t know what to do with you. you didn’t talk much and despite telling you to do whatever you followed him around like a lost puppy.

topaz had numby and aventurine had you, that was the consensus among the ipc staff.

you were nothing more than a pet, an accessory. aventurine didn’t know how to feel about that, because unlike him when he was in the possession of someone else, you weren’t resistant, you weren’t actively fighting him or trying to outsmart him.

he sometimes wondered what was going on inside your head, if there was anything in there at all. he once asked you to watch ice cubes melt while he was attending a meeting and when he came back you were still watching the ice cubes. he spoke to topaz about it and she suggested he should simply ask you about your behaviour, and as simple as it sounded, he hadn’t actually considered it. you did everything he asked you to, so why not answer a few questions?

however when he asked you…

“i’m sorry, madam jade told me not to disclose any of that information to you.” you replied, bowing before him in apology.

aventurine frowned displeased, idly playing with a coin in his hands. “but i’m your boss.”

“she’s technically my boss, since she got me from my original master when he-“ your eyes widened and you quickly covered your mouth. “i- i mean- please forget what i said-“

he skilfully flung the coin at you, startling you and cutting you off, but you managed to catch it clumsily in your hands. he watched you with narrowed eyes.

“tell me the truth and i’ll give you anything you want.” he declared boldly, making your eyes widen a little. aventurine had been generous with you before, buying you your clothes and taking care of other expenses you had when travelling with him, but this was unprecedented.

you held the coin out to him, “you should know by now that i can’t be bought.”

aventurine smirked, carefully taking the coin back from you. “you’re cute. everyone can be bought, you just have to find the right price. so, what do you want? money? clothes?”

you immediately shook your head, a reaction he wasn’t quite accustomed to. whenever he offered riches he would get what he wanted. “you can’t offer me what i really want.”

“you are making this a lot harder than it needs to be,” he replied, once again rolling the coin in between his fingers.

you sighed and lowered your head again, “i’m sorry, mr. aventurine.”

aventurine frowned and reached out, putting his hand underneath your chin and making you look at him. “don’t apologise, your loyalty is admirable if anything. but it’s going to get you killed one day.”

“that wouldn’t be the worst to be honest.” you grimaced, you were probably the only person he knew besides himself who thought of death as anything but scary. then he remembered what jade had told him, your entire planet was destroyed, you were likely the only survivor, much like him. that’s why you didn’t agree to his offer earlier, you didn’t want riches, you wanted you family, your friends.

he let go of your face and got up from his chair, fixing his hair while he did so. “do you like jade?”

you paused, watching as he stood up and walked up to you. “i-i don’t hate her.”

he chuckled, “a very diplomatic answer. very well, i’ll be back soon. wait here.”

you nodded your head obediently with a hint of confusion in your eyes, you didn’t ask why he was leaving, despite not having any meeting scheduled. aventurine left the room and took a deep breath, his mask of confidence slipping for a moment in the empty corridor.

if you weren’t going to fight or bargain for your freedom yourself, he would simply have to do it for you.

[disaster-writer]

Tear You Apart (Deleted Scene)

Pairing: Dabi x Reader

Summary: This is a deleted scene from my fic Tear You Apart that I really liked but had to rewrite for the published fic. You can read the full fic on my blog

Word Count: 638

Warning: Dark fic, mentions of drugging, masochism, noncon, masturbation (male)

Rating: X 18+

Minors DNI

You had Dabi wrong this whole time. His aloof, cool guy act was all a fucking facade for the psychopath that lay beneath the surface.

His crazed eyes and sick grin told you which one you were talking to right now

The entitlement he felt towards your body made your skin crawl and your stomach nauseous. The way he thought and talked to you made you want to deeply hurt him like no one else before.

You still could.

Your entire identity surrounded the fact that you caused people pain— such excruciating pain that more than just that one man has killed himself because of you.

If he thought your drugged out body was an honest representation of the strength of your quirk…

He had another thing coming.

It was as if your hands had a mind of their own as you placed them against his bare chest. 

But the reaction you got wasn’t the one you expected.

You’ve seen and heard expressions of agony your entire life and this was not that.

Another deep groan ripped from his throat, much like before. But unlike earlier, you hadn’t been able to see the expression held on his face, but now you could see how his eyebrows pinched together and his mouth fell open as he cursed.

You knew this was nothing but unbridled pleasure.

You pushed harder, fingernails digging into the seams of his body, drawing blood.

He quickly grabbed onto your wrists as some sort of anchor, the sensations making his knees weak. “Fuck— fuck— that’s different.” He laughed. You watched in horror as he continued to grunt and groan, pressing you hands harder into his chest. “Why— why is it different?”

”Because,” you started, planting your foot onto his abdomen, “I’m not drugged you sick fuck,” you kicked him hard, and his previous instability had him laying on the floor now.

You gaped as you listened to him laugh, and stroke down his chest until he reached his cock, squeezing himself through his boxers.

He started to pull his cock out—

“What the fuck—“

“Don’t give me that look,” he grunted, now fisting his cock and stroking it, “You’ve seen it before, you just don’t remember.” He taunted. “Now come here,” he stuck his free hand out to you, “Ride me crybaby.”

This—this was not how you thought tonight was going to go.

You tugged at your hair, the roots screaming in pain as you tried to figure out what to fucking do.

”I already told you. Put that thing anywhere near me and I’ll tell the world who you are,” you said shakily, back hitting the wall, “You demented creep.”

He laughed again. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him laugh before tonight— you didn’t think he was capable.

You finally realized that while you thought you had Dabi figured out… you knew nothing about Todoroki Touya.

”I’ll let you call me Touya if you want~” he lilted, continuing to stroke himself.

You sunk to the floor, knees to your chest as you continued to pull on your hair. You just wanted him out— maybe you should call the others, you knew they’d help and get this madman off your bedroom floor-

“Don’t tell me you’re not even a little bit curious,” he gained more stability in his voice. You knew some of the pain was probably subsiding. “No other man can touch you— no other man would want to touch you.”

You peered at him from behind your knees.

”You’re insane.”

”What sane man would want you?”

His gaze held yours in the dim light, refusing to look away as he kept jerking himself off, each barbell of his piercings glinting in the moonlight.

”C’mon crybaby, I don’t wanna cum if it’s not in you.”

You buried your face into your knees, “You’re disgusting.”

-

Full Fic

Tear You Apart Prequel (Dabi x Reader x Shigaraki)

[boydepartment]

ོ༘₊⁺☀︎₊⁺⋆.˚ from the start (trips) - nishimura riki x m! reader (PT 2)

fluff - angst - masterlist - pt 1 - wc- 250-275

the movie was absolutely boring riki out of his mind and he couldn’t help the glances he’d throw at you. it clicked for him now.

he liked you

he REALLY liked you…

riki wasn’t dumb or totally oblivious to his feelings, but it’s something hard to accept. being in love with your best friend is some heavy shit that can tear friendships apart or make a wedge and riki didn’t want that for you guys.

he wanted to be around you whether he was your boyfriend or not.

your boyfriend… man he would kill to have that title. he started zoning out and didn’t even notice you shoving him lightly to get him out of the dazed look.

“you okay..?” your voice broke him out of his distraction.

“oh um. yeah this movie is just ass.” he said blankly, why’d he say that? god that was SO STUPID…. he was panicking and overthinking everything now and-

you laughed, you started laughing.

“the movie is pretty bad.”

okay good he didn’t fuck up he’s fine.

“are you sure you’re okay though..?” you asked, fulling turning to him on the couch. riki watched as his clothes that you wore fit your frame. he wished you could say ‘oh these cool pants? yeah they are my boyfriends’

“riki?” you scooted closer to him and waved a hand in front of his face.

once again he snapped out of it, “huh? no i’m okay. i need to ask something though.”

your brows furrowed but you obliged, “okay shoot, captain america.”

riki chuckled at the nickname and got serious again, “are you for real about this crush? the new one? be honest with me.”

he watched your reaction intensely. everything he could note he would.

you shrugged, “i dunno if i’m being honest… sometimes i think i just distract myself from the real picture.”

riki felt his heart speed up again

real picture?

“what do you mean?” he turned his body fully towards you and leaned his head on the wall next to him.

you got nervous, he could tell, you were picking at the bracelet he got you.

“well i told you i mostly lean towards guys yaknow… she’s not a guy but it’s so hard finding GOOD guys who are comfortable with their sexuality. i mean it’s hard being lgbt sometimes…” you mumbled and looked away, “i can’t help but want a boyfriend who’s good for me and comfortable with being a boyfriend to a g-“

“ME.” riki yelled quickly, your head shot over.

“what? now’s not the time to joke around asshole!” you laughed and threw your head back, when you looked at him again though you stopped.

riki was being dead serious, and you just caught onto it.

“y/n i like you. and i hate all your crushes and want them to di-“

“OKAY CAN WE BACK IT UP A FEW PACES BEFORE YOU WISH DEATH UPON MY PREVIOUS FAKE CRUSHES?” you waved your hands around and riki’s brows furrowed.

fake? what DID YOU MEAN? HAS HE BEEN PACING AROUND FOR NOTHING?

“hold on… what the hell do you mean by fake?” he scooted closer to you and you placed with the bracelet again, riki placed his hands next to you almost caging you in, “answer me please…”

“well i told you i used them to distract myself from the bigger picture….” your eyes flickered down to his lips and he scanned your face, stopping at your lips.

riki focused on them for a good few seconds before looking at you again, “you can tell me to stop before i risk our friendship.” he leaned closer to you.

you shook your head no, “i want to risk it… i’ve wanted to kiss you so bad from the start…”

[zombiekillerbiceps]

Hide and Seek

Note: I saw Scream 6 last night and remembered I'm attracted to men who want to kill me, beware ye who enter here etc.

Contents: NSFW, 18+, 3k words, LeonxReader, knife kink, home invasion roleplay, cnc with enthusiastic consent, Dom!Leon, ambiguous era, masochist reader, very slight blood, bdsm, hair pulling, choking, rough sex, degradation, threats, crying, insults (bitch, slut, whore), glove kink, boot kink, primal kink (adjacent?), spoilers for Scream 2, no y/n.

-----

"Yeah okay, so basically she's the mom of one of the killers from the first film," you told him, grabbing another hand full of popcorn, "and what's really fun is their last name Loomis is a reference to the doctor in Halloween, anyways, their whole purpose as killers is to make a point about how people are violent by nature and not because of movies, and how people are more likely to kill because the media glorifies murderers."

"You really like these movies, huh?" Leon asked.

He was, admittedly, a little bit bored. Slasher flicks never did it for him. But what he had was an opportunity to cuddle up on the couch with you and watch you get passionate about something.

Passionate was definitely one way to describe it. The way your breath quickened during the chase scenes and the way your mouth hitched up into a smile whenever Ghostface caught a victim didn't go unnoticed by him. When Ghostface was taunting the victims over the phone, your eyelids got a little heavy, your face a little red.

"What's your favourite part about them?" He asked, watching for your reaction.

You take a long moment to ponder it. The way they act as a mirror to the cultural zeitgeist of the time, reflecting fears, values, and cinema of the era was up there. The kills were always legendary too, just really brutal. But if you were being honest with him?

"The chase," you admitted, your cheeks reddening just a bit.

You two finished out the movie, and because it was your turn for Movie Marathon Night, you put on Scream 3. Leon waited until the moment when Ghostface was stalking a victim through their home before leaning close to you.

"I could do that to you," he said, his voice a low roll.

Your breath hitched in your throat, surprised and immediately turned on at the rumble of his voice. You looked up at him.

"Yeah?"

"If you wanted me to."

You thought about it. Leon's heavy boots on the hardwood floor, his strength contested against yours, the glint of a blade against your throat...

"I definitely like the sound of that." You agreed, and then, sheepishly, "I like the knife too."

"I know," he said, and you burned in embarrassment.

It was a few weeks later that you were putting groceries away, the whole conversation (disappointingly) forgotten, when your phone rang.

Unknown Caller

Your eyebrows cinched together in confusion. Who could be calling you? You propped the fridge door open with your hip and answered the phone.

"Hello?" You ask, reaching over to the counter to grab the carton of eggs.

"Hello, sweetheart." The voice on the other end was deep, a little raspy.

"Leon?"

"Wouldn't you like to find out," Leon the Caller responded. "Do you want to play a game?"

"That's Jigsaw," you teased, excitement bubbling up in your stomach.

He didn't answer for a while. Long enough to make you double check the call wasn't dropped.

You pulled the phone back from your ear.

Still on. Full bars.

"Did I ruin the-"

"You didn't answer my question," he said, slowly, sharply.

You grin. "Okay, I'll play."

"Excellent. How about hide and seek?"

"What?"

"I'll give you ten seconds to find a place to hide, and then I'll come find you."

"Are you home right now?" You ask, straining your ears to hear anything in the house.

"Ten."

"What if I find you first?"

"Nine."

A prickle of fear slid up your back. His voice was sharp, serious. You'd never heard it like that before, and it made it so easy to believe that he wanted to hurt you.

You leave the kitchen, pace getting quicker as you scan for places to hide.

"Eight."

The coat closet was too small. The linen closet where you kept the board games too obvious.

"Seven."

Was he in the house? Do you lock the door to keep him out or does that just trap you?

"Six."

You start up the stairs at a creeping pace to keep quiet, thinking you could probably slip into the bathroom unnoticed if you were quiet enough. The stair creaked under your weight.

"Five. You'll have to be quicker than that, sweetheart." The taunting in his voice was unbearable. Smug, confident, and a fully loaded threat all at once.

A spurt of adrenaline. Your body is bolting up the stairs before you can think better of it.

"Come on," he groaned. "Too loud. You're making this too easy for me."

Your hands turn the bathroom knob and he chuckled over the phone.

"The bathroom? Really? A second-story dead end. You're smarter than this. Three."

"Shut up," you sputter out, pulling the door open defiantly.

He's standing there behind the opaque shower curtain. He tears it open, prying it off the bar entirely. He's wearing a tight black t-shirt and tactical cargo pants, tucked into military boots. You don't miss the knife holster on his shoulder, or the black gloves on his hands. His icy blue eyes meet yours and he feigns disappointment.

"Two," he says, over the phone and to your face. His voice is ice cold. He steps out of the shower slowly. Purposefully.

You expect the heavy boots to make some kind of noise, but he moves like a fucking ghost.

"One."

He drops the phone and charges.

You slam the door just before he meets it. His body slams into it and you feel the force shudder through the door and into you. You hear the doorframe crack. He didn't even have a lot of time to gain momentum, that was just his raw strength. Real adrenaline is floods your brain.

You turn tail and run faster than you've ever run before. The bathroom door swings open behind you. He's catching up with easy, effortless strides.

You make it to the bedroom and slam the door behind you. Your hands shaking as you go to turn the lock.

The doorknob moves under your hands. It won't lock if it's half turned. You struggle with it, fighting with both hands, your sweaty palms making it hard to get a grip.

You manage to wrestle it back just long enough to lock it.

Silence.

You back away from the door, your hands shaking. Your breath comes in quick, harsh breaths. Just when you start to relax, hard pounding at the door kicks you off again. Again. Again. Again again again again - he's going to break the fucking door down!

Silence.

You hear something metallic touch the doorknob. Something pops. It starts to turn.

You do the only think you can think of and dive underneath the bed.

The door swings open. You watch his boots, massive and impossibly fucking quiet cross the threshold.

"Sweetheaaart," he coos. "You don't think you can really hide from me, do you?"

You gently put your hand over your mouth and nose to muffle the sounds of your shaky, terrified breath.

You watch as he crosses over to your shared closet. He opens it. Then, with the unhurried confidence of someone who knows they'll get what they want eventually, he turns. One step, then another, he walks towards your hiding place.

His boots stop just shy of the bed. Just inches from your face. Impeccably polished, but undeniably beat up.

You hear the rustle of fabric. He tosses the blankets on to the ground, blocking your view.

This was bad.

You could just barely hear him cross over to the other side but, from the angle you were at under the bed, couldn't see it. For a painfully long moment, nothing happens. You debate bolting for the door.

A hand wraps around your ankle!

He begins to pull you out from under the bed, the leather of his gloves giving him grip against your bare skin.

"No!" You cry out, instinct taking over. You kick at him and he releases you.

You scurry out from under the bed, fighting against the blankets in your way. You hear him step up onto the bed as you come out from under it. You half- crawl, half- run towards your escape, looking back to see him jumping down, completely unbothered. Your legs are unsteady, everything in your body just trying to get away without really thinking about how.

You brace yourself against the door frame and use it to propel you forward.

His hands are on your shoulders, yanking you against him.

You struggle in vain, a massive arm wrapping around your waist. Your hands try to pry his grip off your hips but his gloved hands don't move. You try to find purchase on the ground but he lifts you until your toes can just barely touch.

He isn't even breathing hard, you realize.

This is easy for him.

"Let me go!" You are try to sound defiant but the high pitch of your voice betrays your fear.

"Let me go isn't our safe word," he says in your ear. You feel him relax against you a little, only just enough to hold you in place.

"Fuck you," you take advantage of his kindness and work your way out of his grasp. You dash for the stairs again but don't even make it a couple of steps before there's a sharp pain in your skull.

A gloved hand is gripping the hair at the base of your head. Electricity echoes through you. You whimper, body freezing up at the pain.

He's almost dragging you backwards. Your body hits another wall, hard enough to make your head spin.

Leon's hand is on your throat. His eyes are wild and dark, and you can tell by the way his gaze rakes over your body that he likes the chase just as much as you do.

His free hand reaches up to pull his knife from it's holster on his shoulder.

You forgot about that.

Your pulse roars in your ears, your body squirming against his grip on your neck. He tightens his grip. For a few seconds, everything becomes light and airy. Then he relaxes, and the oxygen floods back into your brain with a rush of endorphins.

"If you keep squirming like that, I'm going to really hurt you." Fuck, his voice so low and threatening... It genuinely scared you, and the fear just made him hotter.

Sharp, unforgiving features tower over you as he brings the knife point to your abdomen. He traces the hemline of your pants before tucking the curved blade under the hem of your shirt. He pressed in enough that the skin bends beneath the blade, threatening to slice open if you move.

"No," you whimper. "Please don't."

He pulls the knife away, eyes softening and meeting yours.

"No isn't our safe word," he says, but this time there is no mocking tone. His gaze is gentle, genuine, asking a question without asking it.

The fear settles in your brain as you meet his eyes. He would never hurt you if you didn't want him to, you trusted him with your life. The vulnerability is given willingly, as much as you act like it's being taken.

This makes you bold. You spit in his face, trying to turn your thrilled grin into a snarl and failing.

"Fuck. You."

Your spit runs down his cheek. His features harden. He looks like he could fucking kill you.

"You little bitch," he mutters through gritted teeth.

The knife is there against your skin again, a cold pinpoint threat. And then it's gliding up your body, tearing your shirt with it. He pushes the knife back into its holster and stares at you, exposed and cold.

Then he's wrestling you to the ground. You try to resist until your muscles ache with the effort. He does it easily anyways. If his combat training didn't tell him exactly how to manhandle you like a doll, he would still easily overpower you.

One hand pins you down by your back, while his other tears painfully at your denim shorts. You struggle against him, lifting your hips and "accidentally" making it easier for him to drag them off you.

"You're making it too easy for me," Leon taunts you. You try to get to your knees but he pushes you back down with a mocking tsk.

"Oh, look at this," he says. You feel the leather of his gloves pressed against your hole. He drags a finger down your slit, smearing the slick with ease. "Act like you don't want it, but this tells a different story."

Two fingers push into you. Hard. You're wet enough that it's easy for Leon to pump in and out of you, whimpers spilling from your lips. Usually, he would curl his fingers inside you, hitting the spot that made you white hot. But this time? Nothing. He pumps his fingers in and out of you almost intentionally avoiding making you feel good. He was just making a show of you. Playing with you like a toy. Taunting you with every wet push inside you.

Then his fingers are gone. He releases his hold on you to adjust his weight. You hear his zipper.

You wonder how far you can take this.

You drag yourself forward, actually managing to almost get to your knees this time. He lets out a noise of surprise before you feel two hands on your thigh, dragging your bare skin against the hardwood floor. You whimper in pain, and then he's on you again.

"Stop it. A bitch should know when she's been beat," his voice was heavy in your ear. He wrapped an arm around your neck, choking you and using your shoulders as leverage all at once.

You could feel his cock against your ass, so hard it must hurt. His free hand lines it up with your cunt, the tip just dipping into you. He groans with self restraint.

"Ready, sweetheart?"

"Please," you beg quietly, as if asking for it too loudly would break the scene.

He thrusts in one, smooth motion. His cock pushes into you, painfully stretching your cunt around him. His bicep flexes next to your face, using your body to pull himself deeper.

"Fuck, you're so wet for me." He buried his face into your shoulder, whimpering into the torn fabric of your t-shirt. "Such a little slut."

He sets the pace hard and fast at first. Your high builds quickly, legs shaking beneath him, biting into his arm hard enough to leave marks. The pain only makes him rougher with you, fucking into you hard and sharp.

"Such a fucking slut, you like when I take you like this?" You whimper a response, nodding against him. "Yeah you do. Fucking whore."

He adjust his position, fucking you faster. His breath is hard and heavy, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

"Fuck, you take me so well. Fucking." His babbling became almost incoherent, a sting of curse words and praise and humiliation, but you didn't care. It was enough just hearing him talk to you, grunting words between thrusts and moans, pushing into you. Closer, closer.

"Fuck, you about to come for me baby?" He can feel you tighten around his cock. "Stop fighting it. Come on, come on me like the little bitch you are."

It's enough to send you over the edge, whimpering as you come so hard it almost fucking hurts. He rides it out with you, slowing but never stopping. You try to catch your breath.

"Fuck, Leon," you manage. "That was so good."

"Don't think I'm done with you yet," he mutters, driving his hips into you a little harder.

You cry out, body over stimulated, the adrenaline crash rendering you weak and shaky. He keeps a slow pace, but he pushes into you as deep as he can go, almost threatening to push through you.

"It's too much," you whine.

He laughs at you. Then you hear the knife unbuckle again. You're too exhausted to even pretend to fight back, the cold tip tracing your back.

It bites into your skin, sharp and painful. And then it drags up, the sensation like fire on you. It traces your ribs, up to your shoulders. You can feel a thin line of blood drawn from its tip in the round of your shoulder while Leon keeps fucking into you at that slow, tortuous pace. You're too sensitive, the pain too much. Tears start to collect in your eyes. Tension starts to build in your abdomen again.

Leon switches to the dull side but digs it in enough to make you whimper. He keeps fucking you slow, deep, coaxing you deeper and deeper with his sultry voice.

Your cunt starts to tighten around him again and even that hurts. You sniffle, fat tears rolling down your cheeks.

Leon works the dull side of the knife against your throat and that alone is enough to almost drive you over the edge. His body hot and heavy on top of you, both of you sweating and moaning.

"You still with me, sweetheart?" He asks, his voice shaking slightly.

"Mhm. Are you?"

"Ohh yeah," he confirms. He ducks his head closer to the other side of your neck, and you work a hand up into his hair, holding him close. You surprise him by pulling his hair, some part of you hoping it will get a rise out of him, but it doesn't. The same slow, deep pace. Pain danced with pleasure, arousal and discomfort tightening in your stomach, threatening to overcome you.

"Cry all you want baby," he groans in your ear, "it's just going to make me fuck you harder."

It's a promise. His hips snap into you harder, dragging out another climax so hard you're left breathless.

He doesn't stop. He doesn't even let you catch your breath this time. He's stopped talking now, his breath hard and fast in your ear. You try to tell him it hurts but you can only stutter pathetically beneath him.

He pulled himself into you, threat of the knife ever present against your throat. Your body felt like it was on fire.

"I can't, I can't, Leon-" you manage to plead, your body working up to another orgasm.

"I didn't fucking ask if you could," he groans in your ear.

That sends you over the edge again, crying out as your cunt clamped down around his cock. Your body shakes uncontrollably, tears fall down your cheeks as your breath comes in moaning sobs.

You can feel his cock spasm inside you, spreading you more with each pulse. His cum is so hot it feels like it could burn you, his hips fucking it deeper into you as he rides through his high. Eventually, he slows to a stop.

You lay there like that on your hallway floor for a moment, before Leon released the knife with a clatter and rolls off of you.

Still shaking, you curl up to him He wraps his arms around you and you feel undeniably safe. Of course you do, you couldn't do all that with just anyone.

"Got a little carried away there," he admitted with a soft laugh.

"Yeah, I think you liked it more than I did," you joked back with a shaking voice.

He peppers the top of your head with gentle kisses.

"Are you still doing okay?" He asks. You nod against him.

"Sore. Overwhelmed."

"Let's get you into a bath, then how about we watch some TV together?"

"Yeah," you agree, kissing him. "That sounds good."

[skzooweemama]

Because this tiktok trend is really old now how would skz reaction to you wiping off thier kisses? Like because it's an old trend they probably wouldn't be thinking that's what you're doing.

gotta keep them on their toes right? i gotchu!!

oh my gosh it’s been nearly a month since i’ve posted anything i- 😭😭 midterms are over now, so i’m hoping i’ll have more time! still working on the rest of the requests i’ve received not to worry 🫡🫡

i hope y’all like this one! i’m gonna be honest, i didn’t have a lot of ideas going into it, so i changed it up a lil from how the prompt was. i think it turned out okay though!

enjoy!

~~~

Bang Chan:

"Baby?" Your boyfriend called down the hall, wandering from the in- home studio to find you in the kitchen making a snack.

You smiled as Chan rounded the corner, with bleary eyes and messy hair. "Hi love, did you just finish?" He hummed and drew you into a hug once he was close enough, burying his head into the crook of your neck. You giggled at his cute behavior and rubbed his back gently.

"Finished and fell asleep..." Chan mumbled into your neck, the sensation making you giggle.

You brought a hand up to scratch at the nape of his neck. "Sounds like you needed it, hm?" Another hum escaped your sleepy boy. "Do you want some of my snack?" Chan nodded, raising his head to see what you were making.

You pulled away briefly to grab the snack (cheese and crackers, a classic) and fed him some. Chan giggled when he realized you wanted to feed him and let you, blushing a bit from the gesture. Afterwards, he pressed a crumby kiss to your cheek.

"Gah! Chris!" You cried out, dramatically wiping at your cheek. Honestly, you didn't really mind, but you wanted to see how he'd react.

Chan just giggled, a shy smile spreading on his face as he pulled you close once again, covering you in more (yet significantly less crumby) kisses.

You squealed out and pushed at his chest, Chan’s laughter mixing with your own as he continued with his attack. “Baby!” You whined, playfully squirming in his hold.

Chan’s arms slipped around your waist and held you fast, his lips trailing down to yours. His warm breath fanned across your face, leaving you completely defenseless. Then he pressed a searing kiss right to your lips, leaving you breathless when he pulled away. You stared up at him, a dazed look in your eyes.

“You’re not gonna wipe that one away now, are you?”

Lee Know:

"Honey? Is that you?" Minho's voice was soft, but it still broke through your post-work haze as you toed off your shoes by the door.

"Yeah Min, I'm home." You called back, shrugging off your jacket and hanging it up. Your scalp was screaming from being up in a bun all day, so you worked on wrestling out the bobby pins while you made your way to the living room.

You freed your hair from its confines just as you came around the corner, finding Minho’s gentle gaze peering back at you. He offered you a warm smile and patted the couch, beckoning you over.

“Hi love…” You said softly, plopping down beside Minho and letting him pull you into his side. You buried your head into the fabric of his hoodie and took a deep breath. “Missed you…”

Minho made a small cooing noise in the back of his throat and pet your hair gently. “Long day?”

“Only the longest… I just keep telling myself that this is my dream job…” You sighed, turning to rest your cheek against his chest.

“That bad, hm? You wanna talk about it?” Minho’s words sent tingles through your body from being pressed so close to him. You huffed out a laugh and shook your head.

“It’s okay, I’m just tired."

"Okay." Minho responded, shifting so he could press a smooch to your forehead.

The kiss was loud and dramatic, and it made you giggle. Without thinking, you wiped at the excess spit his left on your forehead. "Minho! You slobbered me!" You exclaimed, looking up at your boyfriend with a goofy grin on your face.

Minho was staring back at you. If looks could kill, you would be at death's door. It was as if his eyes were screaming at you, beyond offended at you wiping away his love. You couldn’t help but laugh and sat up, pressing your own kisses onto his skin in an apology.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Give me another kiss, I won't wipe it off again!"

Changbin:

Changbin, your love, your light, your life, had been annoying you to no end. This morning it had been his excessive screaming, this afternoon it had been his covers of random songs, and now he would not stop trying to teach you his rap parts in one of their new songs. And he was a really bad teacher.

"No, baby! The flow isn't right, you miss this syllable," He gestured to the lyrics written out in front of you, "and it really kills the rhythm. Let's try again!"

"Bin! I don't get it! I'm not a rapper!" You exclaimed, feeling more and more frustrated by his criticisms. Plus his hand writing was so bad that you could hardly read the lyrics in the first place.

Changbin pouted, grabbing your hand gently. “Can we try again? Please?” You groaned and slumped forward in your seat, laying your head on the table for a moment.

“Fineeee…” You said after a moment. Changbin smiled at the success of his pouting and started the track again.

This time, the word flowed from your lips like water in a stream. You didn't have near as much swagger as your boyfriend did while rapping, but you didn't sound bad by any means. When you chanced a glance over to Changbin, he was sitting there with stars in his eyes. You smiled despite yourself as the verse came to an end.

"So? Was that better?" You asked, leaning back in your chair.

"Was it better? That was great! My baby is a natural!" Changbin exclaimed, leaning over the table to press kisses to your cheeks.

You giggled and batted at him playfully. "I'm not a natural! You had to help me, silly!" Changbin stopped his attack and sat back, and you took the chance to wipe at all the kisses he left on your face. "That's for instilling me with false confidence." You snickered, smiling at him mischievously.

Changbin gasped and let out a dramatic whine. "Babyyyyy!! How could you?! Do you not love your Binnie??" You just started laughing, heart melting immediately at Changbin's cute pout.

"Noooo! Wait I'm sorry!" You laughed, getting up from your chair to hug your pouty boy. "I'll give you all the kisses you want, no more wiping them off!"

Hyunjin:

"Yah! Stay still!" Hyunjin barked at you from his seat in front of the canvas, throwing you a playful glare. You sighed and sat up straighter, trying your hardest to stay posed how he wanted you.

"Hyunnnn... my back is hurting!" You whined (because he didn't say anything about staying quiet). "Are you almost done?"

Hyunjin glanced at you again, his gaze softened. You knew he was starting to feel guilty for keeping you sat there for so long. He looked back to the canvas and started to work more diligently.

"Just a bit longer, okay? You look so beautiful, my love. I don't wanna rush..." Your boyfriend responded, his voice much less harsh now.

You nodded and settled in, keeping perfectly still and trying to ignore the burning that was slowly creeping up your spine. You distracted yourself by watching Hyunjin work. His long black hair was pulled up and away from his eyes, which were focused and calculating as he worked. He was just too pretty. It was unfair, honestly, but selfishly checking him out was your compensation so you couldn't complain too much.

Except for the fact that the pain in your back was getting harder to ignore.

You let out a loud, frustrated sigh before finally, finally, Hyunjin put down that godforsaken brush.

"Okay, okay, I'm done for now." He said, getting up and stretching. You did the same, trying to quell the fire in your muscles. "Come here, baby." You looked to see Hyunjin with his arms out, offering you a hug.

"I don't feel like I should hug you after that torture." You said, crossing your arms. Hyunjin smiled and shook his head, walking forward to wrap you up in his embrace anyway.

"Too bad, I missed you~" He hummed, burying his head in the crook of your neck. You couldn't help but smile and melt into him. Hyunjin chuckled and stepped back, brushing your hair away from your face and giving you a loving look. You pulled a playful scowl back onto your face, which made him laugh once again. "You're cute..." He hummed, placing a delicate kiss on your forehead...

...which you promptly wiped right off, jumping up from your seat and making your way to the door.

Hyunjin caught you around the waist just before you could escape. "Yah! That's not nice! Don't wipe away my love!" He exclaimed, a playful lilt in his tone. You began to giggle gleefully, which made him growl in your ear. "Oh, you wanna laugh?"

You squealed as his fingers dug into your tickle spots, and through your laughter you cried out, "I'm sorry! I won't wipe them away again!"

Han:

When you heard the front door close, it was nearing 1am. This was much later than the time that Jisung promised to be home. You'd practically been worried sick, especially since he wasn't answering your calls or texts. But no, clearly he was fine- just ignoring his worried partner.

So there you sat, arms crossed, silently fuming as your lovely boyfriend came around the corner.

Immediately, you felt bad when you saw him. He looked so tired. His big eyes were bloodshot and framed with dark circles when they were usually bright and full of life, and he was a bit slouched as he walked. But still, he perked right up when he saw you, lips pulling into his big, gummy smile.

"Hi baby!" He said cheerfully. His voice would be a sharp contrast to his appearance, if it wasn't for the hoarseness from recording all day. You glanced at the clock once again and felt yet another pang of frustration.

"Hi Ji," You greeted, offering him a tight lipped smile. "Little late, isn't it? Why didn't you answer my texts? I was worried." Jisung visibly deflated at your words as he sat beside you and that made your heart wrench in your chest.

"Ah- it is late, huh? I'm sorry, baby. I got caught up editing tracks with Chan and my phone died. The studio doesn't have Apple chargers anymore, so I couldn't fix it and there's no clock so-," You cut off his rambling with a hand on his arm.

"Ji- calm down. It's okay, I was just worried, that's all. I'm glad you're home." You told him, offering him a smile to assure him that you were being genuine. Jisung relaxed, and you opened your arms to pull him into a hug. "You okay?"

He nodded against your shoulder, holding you close. The two of you sat in silence for a moment before he pulled away and pressed a kiss to your cheek. You gave him a teasing look and dramatically wiped at the kiss, attempting to get a rise out of him.

That did not go over well, and instead of playing along, tears gathered in Jisung's eyes and his lips immediately pulled into a deep frown.

You laughed in disbelief and pulled him into another hug, holding the back of his head protectively.

"Oh baby, I'm sorry! I was just joking, please don't cry! I won't wipe any more off!"

Felix:

"Babe, are you gonna finish up soon? I'm bored..." You whined, laying face down on your boyfriend's bed, phone abandoned beside you. He'd been working on his PC for hours and you just wanted his attention.

"Impatient, hm?" Was all Felix said in response, and you could practically hear the smile in his voice.

You groaned loudly and kicked your legs. "Lix, it's been hours. I'm wasting away over here!" Felix just laughed, his deep chuckle sounding way too teasing.

You lifted your head and scowled at his back, wishing he'd set down those stupid tools and come pay attention to your before you literally went insane. As you glared at him, an idea crossed your mind. There was an old Tiktok couples prank that you had been wanting to try since you started dating... What better way to get back at him for ignoring you?

Felix was hunched over his keyboard at you approached him from behind, focused on screwing something into something else. When you reached him, you leaned forward, pressing your chest against his back, and wrapped him up in a back hug.

"Lix... pay attention to me..." You whispered in his ear, you voice overly sensual. Felix tensed up beneath you, and you heard his breathing pick up in the quiet of the room. "Oh? Was that all it took?" You teased, nipping at his earlobe before returning to your place on the bed.

It took about .5 seconds until Felix was on you, pushing you down onto the bed and kissing your feverishly. You giggled into the kiss, allowing him to cage you in just for a moment before you pushed at his chest. Felix pulled away and looked at you wildly, his cheeks and ears still bright red from when you flustered him.

You held eye contact with him as you wiped your lips with the back of your hand, giving him a wink as you did so. Felix's face was shocked for a moment, but then he smiled. Fuck, you forgot about how much he was on Tiktok too.

"Did you try to prank me? Why don't I make you regret ever wiping my kisses off, then?"

Seungmin:

Today was one of those rare days that you had off from work. It was a small blessing after a hectic week of project reports and visits from your higher ups, and you were thankful to have some time to recooperate. Unfortunately, Seungmin was still working and you wouldn't see him until the evening.

Luckily he forgot to pack lunch today, so you had the perfect excuse to cook him something he liked and visit him at work.

When you knocked on the door to the practice room all he and his members were in, they had all just finished a dance practice. Seungmin couldn't help the goofy smile that took over his face when he saw you, which made you laugh. The boys teased him for a moment as they gathered their things, greeting you kindly when they filed out the door.

"How was practice?" You asked once everyone had left. Seungmin groaned dramatically and flopped onto the small couch near the door. You laughed and maneuvered him so you had some room to sit too. "That bad?"

"'S fine, just hardddd... my body hurts..." He whined, throwing an arm over his eyes. You hummed and patted his tummy, which made him groan again.

"I'm sorry you're hurting, love. Do you want some food?" Your question had him interested, so he removed his arm from over his eyes and looked at you.

"You brought me food?" He asked. You were almost offended at how surprised he looked.

"Duh, you forgot to pack anything this morning. I wasn't gonna let my baby starve!" Your words were teasing, but genuine, and you watched joyfully as Seungmin's cheeks got all rosy. He sat up and scooted towards you, wrapping you up in a hug and pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

It would've been a nice gesture if he wasn't so sweaty.

"Ah! You're getting me all gross with your sweat!" You cried, cringing at the hug and shying away from the kiss. Once he let you go, you immediately began wiping at your lips and trying to rid yourself of any residual boyfriend sweat.

"Oh yeah? You're gonna be like that? Wiping off my kisses?" Seungmin asked, giving you a challenging look. Without a second thought, you attempted to jump up and run away, only to be caught around the waist.

"Wait! I won't wipe them off again! Seungmin!"

I.N:

You considered messing with Jeongin to be a sort of art form, to say the least. He was clever, but he could also be gullible. That made pranks a 50/50 shot with him, either he figured you out immediately or he would fall for it hook, line, and sinker.

Today, you had devised a fool-proof plan to make sure that he would let you have your fun.

Couple pranks were something you had been wanting to try for a while. You didn't want to film them or post them or anything, you just purely liked a good, light-hearted prank and your boyfriend was a decent victim. There was one that had caught your attention back before you had started dating Jeongin, and it seemed like one he was unlikely to catch onto. Until you told him about it, at least.

It all started when you came back from grabbing groceries at the store. Errands were no fun to do alone, but since it was hard to go out in public together with Jeongin, you usually had no choice. It was all better when you got back home, though.

Jeongin had the weekend free from schedules, which was pretty uncommon. It also meant he was there to greet you when you came home instead of you waiting for him. He was sitting in the kitchen doing work on his computer when you came through the door.

A smile immediately broke out across his face when he saw you, his dimples greeting you just as eagerly. "Hi, babe. Need some help?" It wasn't really even a question he needed to ask, because he was already getting up to grab the bag from you before you could answer.

You smiled at him lovingly and set down the second bag. Jeongin set down the one he took beside it, and when you turned towards him, he captured your lips in a gentle kiss. You sighed into the kiss and cupped his cheek, drawing him in closer.

“Hi…” You whispered when you pulled away, still feeling those classic butterflies when you looked into his bright eyes. Jeongin giggled and leaned to kiss you again, just a peck this time, before he turned to start putting the groceries away.

“Was the store okay? I heard-,” Whatever he was gonna say next died on his tongue as he turned and looked to see you wipe your mouth on the back of your hand. “Did… did you just wipe my kiss away?”

You couldn’t help but break out into laughter at his words and the look of pure confusion on his face. He didn’t look remotely offended, just confused.

“I’m sorry baby, it was just a prank!”

“Too bad, I’m never kissing you again.”

“Nooo!! I promise to never wipe off another one!”

[moni-logues]

Dead Man Walking

Pairing: Hoseok x reader (afab, she/her)

Genre: friends(?)-to-lovers, older sister's best friend

Summary: Call my doctor, call my lawyer

Call my brother, call my priest

There's paperwork to fill out

'Cause a dead man walks the streets

'Cause my sister has a best friend

That I've known since I was three

And now I'm gon' get strangled

'Cause we tangled in the sheets

Word count: 2.6k

Content: oral (f. receiving), protected piv sex, drinking, one (1) joke about necrophilia

A/N: I wanted to have this ready to post for Hobi's Return Day 😭😭 but studying got in the way and now, yes, my midterm is tomorrow but fuck it, we ball etc. This is basically a song fic based on Dead Man Walking by Jon Bellion because he just released his first new song in years and I remembered how fucking great his music is. Unbeta'd and unedited PEACE

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Hoseok felt electric. Overwhelmed. As if he could feel every single hair all over his body standing on end. He had performed before, but there was something different about this show. Something that made him feel like he had made it. The crowd was loud; they knew the words; he knew a few people in the crowd from back home.  

One of those people was you.  

Hoseok had grown up with you; you and his older sister had been glued to one another’s sides since you were 5 and Hoseok could barely speak. He was witness to so much of your childhood as you were to his. It made it easy between you, familiar. 

“Hobi!” you shrieked when you saw him, arms extended wide. You were one of only a few people who ever called him that. 

He smiled and wrapped you in a hug, not caring and knowing you wouldn’t either that he was drenched in sweat, wet with it, pressing it against you.  

“Oh my god!” you continued. “I can’t believe your sister didn’t warn me! She’s getting a stern word tomorrow.” 

“Warn you about what?”  

“You! I’ve never seen you like that! You looked cool.” 

“Hey!”  

See? Easy. Familiar. The kind of teasing that made him feel warm inside. Because you were right: he was cool. On-stage, he felt cool. He felt powerful. He felt completely in his element. It was almost absurd: that doing something as simple as performing in front of a, let’s be honest, fairly modest crowd a couple of hundred miles from home could make him feel like a king. In the grand scheme of things, hardly anyone knew who he was, but for the hundreds of people at the venue that night, Hoseok was god.  

“We’re going for a drink, right? Do you need to change or whatever first?” 

“Yes, we are; Ji would kill me if I didn’t take you out while I was-” 

“Take me out? Absolutely not! Drinks are on me. We are celebrating you tonight.” 

“Well, ok, but make sure you tell her you said that. I’m going to need a shower and a change.” 

“Yeah, no worries. I’ll wait at the bar.” 

He didn’t keep you waiting long. It had been some time since he’d actually seen you in person and he was thrilled by the opportunity to catch up.  

Over drinks, you filled him in; he filled you in. The spaces that Jiwoo left between getting patched up over cheap beer and soggy chips. The adrenalin that Hoseok had assumed had been responsible for the electricity coursing through him had dissipated and he couldn’t explain why he still felt it: electric. He felt almost as alive sitting with you in a dark corner of a bar as he had on-stage. He found himself watching your lips as you spoke, as you drank from your bottle, as your tongue peeked out to lick at a stray droplet. He watched your eyes when he spoke, attentive to your reactions, wondering why he hadn’t remembered just how fucking beautiful you are.  

Perhaps a little time and distance was all it took. To take someone whose face he knew like the back of his hand and make it new. Make it suddenly magnetic, unable to tear his eyes away. He had the sense of a building quiet around the table, the other customers returning to their homes, bar staff starting to clear up around them, but he had no intention of leaving. If this night could be 36 hours long, that might be enough.  

“I mean, I’ve got wine at mine?” you suggested when the owner finally burst the bubble and told you to get out.  

“Wine sounds great.” 

Hoseok hated wine, but he’d have drunk arsenic if it meant more time with you.  

“Make yourself at home!” you called as you made your way to your kitchen and Hoseok sank into your sofa cushions. Your home was lovely, just as you were, and he felt a sense of pride looking around it: this house that you bought, this home that you had made. He knew you when you were a gawky teenager (shortly before he was a gawky teen himself) and now you were a woman of the world, achieving things, living a life he now knew all about, that he would always be a part of even if he wasn’t really quite a part of it.  

“You know you’re so beautiful,” he said, words slipping out without permission, as you walked towards him with a bottle of wine and two glasses in hand.  

“Oh no, Hobi’s drunk.” 

“Shut up! I’m serious.” 

You sat next to him and set the glasses on the table, filled them up, handed one to him. 

“No, you’re not,” you argued. “You’re just saying that because I’m the first chick to pay you attention in a while.” 

He snorted. That was partly true. The reason for it, though, was that he wasn’t interested in fucking around. This was his first proper, legitimate tour. He was not about to get a reputation for himself as someone who fucked groupies or even had groupies. The tour was all business. This was the first time he’d been able to let that go; it was the first time he’d seen you for a long time; in some ways, he felt like it was the first time he’d ever really seen you. 

“I’m serious,” he insisted, no dramatics, no laughter. “You are fucking beautiful and I’m sitting here wondering why I never kissed you before.” 

Your eyes met his, uncertain, hesitant. 

“Ho-” 

He placed his hand over yours, his wine glass back on the table. He shuffled himself closer to you, saw you swallow, the pink tip of your tongue roll over your lips—a nervous habit he hadn’t forgotten.  

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered, his face inches from yours.  

You didn’t. You looked at him, slowly dipped your gaze to his mouth, then raised it. Before you could do it again, he kissed you.  

It could have been weird. There was a tiny part of him that expected it to be strange, to kiss someone he knew so well—one of the first people he had ever known—when kissing had never been a part of your relationship before. It could have been awkward. It could have felt wrong. It didn’t. 

He put a hand to your face, pulled you closer, felt your hand on his thigh. The adrenalin was surging, that electricity he had been feeling all night peaking again, crackling between the two of you. He murmured your name quietly, his face still close to yours. You rested your forehead against his, found his fingers with your own and tangled them. Then your eyes met.  

“Is this crazy?” you asked, voice barely a whisper. 

“Maybe. Want to be crazy?” 

You swallowed. 

“Yes... But what’s Ji going to say about this?” 

Hoseok swallowed a laugh. His sister was the last person he wanted to be thinking about right now. 

“Maybe we just don’t tell her.” 

He saw your eyes glitter as you fought a grin and he knew you were in. He wasted no more time, brought your lips to his, found your hips with his hands, then your waist, dared to sneak them underneath the top you were wearing. Moaned because your skin was so soft, so warm, sent a zap of electricity to his cock. You lay yourself back, pulling at his T-shirt to bring him with you.  

“Fuck,” you breathed. “Sorry, are you ok?” 

And none of it was weird. If anything, it was weird how normal it felt, how completely unremarkable that you were biting his bottom lip, wrapping a leg around his back, running your hands over his flushed skin. There was a disbelief in Hoseok: he couldn't believe this was the first time. The first time he was kissing you, sucking marks into your neck that he knew would get him into trouble later. His first time watching your nipples stiffen, running his hot tongue over them and feeling your back arching beneath him. In all the many years he’d known you, he’d never known this part of you, never even really considered its existence but now it was all he could think about, his entire focus. He had gone almost his entire life with you on the sidelines, his cheerleader, his sister’s best friend, his something-or-other that he couldn’t have put a name to and now he was glad he hadn’t. Because it left an opening for this. For his mouth on your cunt, tasting secret parts of you like forbidden fruit, lapping at your slick hole because you were wet, for him, because of him, and he couldn’t stop himself rutting against the sofa, his cock trapped and straining in his jeans, so fucking hard that it ached; it sent its discomfort radiating inwards, the heavy drag in his abdomen pleasurably painful or painfully pleasurable. But he couldn’t stop, couldn’t take his lips from you, wanted you to keep moaning like that, keep moving against his face, chasing your high, using him for it. When you uttered his name in a broken cry, he gasped, almost came because it sounded so good, wanted to hear it again and again. So he worked. Until his jaw ached and he almost couldn’t breathe, until your legs clamped around him and you twisted, pulling him off the sofa with a bump. 

He could only laugh. He was so much better than ok.  

“Are you?” he fired back, hands smoothing the hair from your face.  

You laughed then, hauled him back onto the sofa and kissed him, his mouth sticky and sweet. 

“Yeah, I think I’m ok,” you answered eventually, your voice light and breathy, dazed. 

It was at that moment that your hand brushed against his dick and he shuddered. Your chuckle was dark and you did it again, almost floated your hand over his trousers; his hips jerked of their own accord.  

“Want to get out of these jeans?” you asked, coy, smirking.  

He didn’t need telling twice. Clambering ungainly from the sofa once more, he shoved his jeans and boxers down at once, stepping out of them and kneeling over you on the sofa. 

“Got a condom in your pocket?” you asked. 

“Fuck, no.” 

“No worries. Give me one sec.” 

And he got to watch your naked, retreating form as you left the room. Got to fist his flushed, leaking cock and imagine his hand was yours. His eyes fluttered closed as he thought about your cunt, your sweet, soft, wet cunt tight around him. He swallowed hard, tried to take a few deep breaths, ground himself a little because the last thing he wanted now was to embarrass himself in front of you by coming too fast. It hadn’t been a problem for him since he very first forays in the field, but he could picture it happening, ruining this.  

Fortunately for Hoseok, this time, the nerves made him a little less desperate. When you sat him back on the sofa and sank down on him, and his eyes rolled back in his head, and his heart skipped over several beats, he didn’t immediately come and put an abrupt end to the evening. He moaned, your name coming hoarse and strained from his throat. He put his hands on your hips, not moving you, just holding. He dared to open his eyes and watch your tits bounce. 

“Fuck,” he panted, tipping his head onto the back of the sofa, eyes still trained on you.  

You returned your agreement in breathy, whined affirmations, sounds that reverberated in Hoseok’s head, that he hoped would ring like tinnitus forevermore. You brought your face to his and kissed him. It made him hungry, made him greedy, his fingers dimpling in your flesh, his teeth biting down on your lip. It made him want to fuck you till you walked sideways. 

When his thighs felt both leaden and twitchy, he pulled his arms tight around you, halted your movement, kissed you deeply for longer than he’d intended to.  

“Can we switch it up?” he asked and you nodded.  

You, on your knees, Hoseok sliding in behind you. Your backside in his hands, skin soft, supple, warm. Your back stretched out before him, your hair like a dark-water splash around your head, your face turned sideways so he could see you: eyebrows drawn together, mouth open with your fist shoved into it, as if it could drown out the change in pitch of your voice, the loud cries that accompanied each spasm of your walls around him. 

He snapped his hips fast and hard, his muscles starting to cry out, too, but his fingers were softer when they slipped around your hips, found your clit. Your back arched further, a strained squeal rising from your throat as he increased his pressure, rubbing over it in tight circles until your cunt, vice-like, spasmed tight, your legs wobbling, your voice cut off completely. Hoseok swore, racing to fuck you through it until he could let go, let it all go, come, sudden and strong, hips and breath both stuttering. 

It was quiet for a moment after that, just the rush of your heavy breathing and the tick of a clock somewhere out near the hallway. Hoseok removed himself carefully, disposed of the condom, asked if you wanted to shower with him. 

“Didn’t you already shower tonight?” you ask, prone on the sofa.  

He laughed. 

“Yeah but somehow, for some reason, I feel like I could do with another one. I’ve got no idea why,” he teased, extending a hand to you.  

He wouldn’t usually make such an offer, not unless he was planning to have more sex under the water, but it was you, and somehow that made it ok. Somehow, that meant it wasn’t weird to be naked with you, in a way that wasn’t really sexual, though he took every opportunity he could to kiss you again, put his hands on your body. He just wanted to be closer to you, as close as he could. The intimacy of the shower made the sex seem almost prudish. It was a different heavy feeling in his gut that let Hoseok know that this, for him, wasn’t a one-time thing. This was a cat out of the bag thing. This was a worms everywhere situation.  

* 

That was almost three months ago.  

Hoseok was washing up at the kitchen sink of his parents’ house. His sister was drying and putting things away. 

“Hey, Ji!” 

Hoseok dropped the plate he was washing with a loud clang. He swore under his breath and turned with his heart in his throat, to see you enter the room. 

“Oh! Hobi, I didn't know you’d be here.” 

He thought he saw confusion in your eyes, maybe the slightest hint of hurt.  

“It was a last-minute thing,” he said, cheeks flaming and praying that Jiwoo wouldn’t notice anything.  

Because it had not been a one-time thing. Or a two-time thing. It was a thing that could no longer be counted. Jiwoo lived closed to his parents in their hometown, but you didn’t and he didn’t. That had made it surprisingly easy to feed this thing, tend to it, keep it, grow it, let it embed itself in his heart like ivy.  

But he hadn’t told his sister. And neither had you. And he knew that, when she found out, heads would roll—notably, his. He was a dead man walking and you both knew it. He didn’t mind though, he kept saying. He’d be a dead man walking or a dead man, whichever way it went, as long as he got to keep you, he’d be happy. You told him you weren’t keen on the idea of necrophilia. 

[animeficsworld]

Two Devils

Denji x Reader

Summary: After the loss of your friend you had two main goals in life. Live the best life you can for the both of you and to have your sweet sweet revenge when the time comes. And the time did, just when you met a guy with a very special power.

Denji sat across you, you watched him, analyzed him in the silence of the room.

You could tell he was uncomfortable, it was very obvious from the way he sweat, avoided eye contact and looked around the room. But you just kept staring at him.

You really should have let him off the hook and looked away or said something but you didn't.

Not until a long time.

"How well do you know her?" you asked after what felt like an eternity to Denji.

"Huh? Who? Makima-san?" his eyes still not locking in with yours instead he just kept looking behind you, at the wall.

You just nodded once.

"Do you know her well enough to die for her?" 

"I would die for her without question." he finally looked at you, into your eyes.

You smiled.

"You didn't answer my question."

"It doesn't matter for how long I have known her. I would die for her, no matter the question."

"You are good at avoiding core issues, I see." you let out a sigh and finally looked away from him and through the window. "She didn't want you to meet me, did she? Or was it Aki who warned you about me beforehand? Were you told that I would brainwash you or seduce you?"

You looked back at him and judging by the reaction, you got your answer.

"They say she is powerful. She doesn't live around here because she had some kind of... issue with Makima-san." Denji nodded at Aki's words.

"But what kind of issues?"

"They say... it was about a friend. Y/N is dangerous, she is beautiful and she will use it against you."

"Oh no! A pretty lady using her gorgeousness to seduce me!"

"Idiot!" Aki hit Denji on the head. "I'm serious. She is just... you will see. Just don't let her have her way with you."

"All because I am too powerful for her to kill." your words pulled Denji out of his daydream.

"What do you mean by that? Makima-san is the strongest."

"She is strong," you replied. "But you are not too far gone... not like Aki."

You moved to uncross your legs and smiled at him. "We will be good friends," you said, making sure to show him a nice view of your boobs.

The skin you were showing immediately caught his attention, just as you planned.

If Makima wanted the Chainsaw Devil, you would take it from her, like she took your friend from you.

Revenge will be sweet.

---

You began to like the fact that Denji seemed to grow on you.

Even if you would say he was an easy target for your plan, he made it easier by falling in love with you.

And if you were honest, you fell for him just as much.

Not for the Devil, but for him, Denji with his perverted ways and yet kind words. 

You found a small apartment for the two of you. And now you were living there with him.

"I'm yours do whatever you want." he said and yet, it didn't feel right. 

You didn't want to own him like the people in his past. You didn't want to be like that.

You were better.

And yet, you had a feeling that Denji was still not over Makima. 

"Do you know what she did to me?"

You asked him after a meeting with everyone. You arrived home, tired as you plopped down on the couch.

Denji shook his head, no.

"She killed my friend. Makima wanted her soul so bad, she took her from me. My childhood friend." you looked at Denji with an expression he had never seen on you before, guilt. "I couldn't save her from Makima..."

"I'm sure there is more to the story... So, you swore revenge?"

"You promised your friend to live a full life, I promised mine the same. The bonus is if Makima suffers a little."

"Is that why you became interested in me?"

"At first, yes. But not anymore."

"I know your power... you fix what's broken... You fixed me." that wasn't your power, far from it, it was the human in you.

Your heart, which upon seeing him sleeping on the floor in the kitchen felt sorry for him.

The same heart that felt bad when he said he was hungry but had no money for food.

You and your stupid heart.

"I try." you simply replied.

"I believe you. You could have left me at any moment and yet you didn't. You are all I have." his voice sounded so desperate, that you wondered how many times he just shrugged his shoulders and moved on, even when it hurt the most.

Probably too many times.

"No Denji, you are all I have, and I'm scared someone will use it against me... just like before."

"I won't let them! We are unstoppable! We are too powerful! Two devils against the World." Two devils... you looked up at him from your hands and smiled. "There you are, my confident girlfriend. The one who owns me."

"You know, I think it is the other way around. You own my heart." your smiled turned into a rare one, one which was filled with joy, care and pure love.

It was a rare sight but Denji managed to see it more and more as time went on.

He moved closer to you, hugging you and kissing the top of your head and forehead, he moved you to cuddle to his side on the couch as he grabbed the remote.

"Revenge or not, brainwashing or not, I'm glad we found each other."

"I love you, Denji." you said as he watched the TV. You were sure he didn't hear you, but it was okay.

You showed him a new side of life. A side where he wasn't used by others, a side where he could be free and truly himself.

You showed him love and he taught you many things about yourself as well.

You smiled as one of his hands moved to your boobs. 

Yup, no denying, this was your Denji.