#But it sure as shit doesn't have to be him

[svgarseason]

𖹭 cw: suggestive, edgy, mdni

part one | two | three ‹soon›

Unfortunately for you, your big brother's friend sukuna can be surprisingly light on his feet for someone so large. It seems that startling the living hell out of you is his new favorite pasttime. And he's around all the time now. He shows up unannounced and lets himself in. When you ask Toji why he has a key, he just laughs and says, "He doesn't. He wants in. He gets in."

Okay? That's cryptic and annoying, but you'd rather feign indifference than ask questions. Why overcomplicate things?

Mostly, he just sneaks up behind you and shouts, "Hey, brat!" In his stupid, booming voice as he claps all four of his large hands down on your shoulders. You count it as a victory when you detect his smokey scent first and actually manage not to jump out of your skin. Although you still break out in goosebumps at his touch, he doesn't seem to notice, judging by the satisfying look of dissappointment on his face. Your satisfaction is short-lived, however.

The sound of the two men crashing through the front door in the wee hours of the next morning startles you awake. You flick the bedside lamp on just in time to see sukuna crash through your bedroom door. Of course, you scream and clutch the pink duvet to your bare chest. "Oops," he says, with a shit-eating grin. "Wrong room." Toji drags him out with some half-assed muttered apology about drinking too much. You're not so sure that's a pertinent excuse. The smug look he shoots you before the door slams shut seems pretty much par for the course, at this point.

Sadly, that was not the end of early morning encounters with the monster. Now he has you caged in against the counter, nearly breaking your back in an effort to lean away from him. Evidently, he had seen fit to creep up behind you and you between the kitchen counter and his mountain range of a body. And you wee only trying to steam milk for your latte. What the fuck is his problem, anyway? Can't a girl make her morning coffee in peace? Your protests remain lodged in your throat, however, along with your racing heart.

He's so large and so close you have no choice but to look at him, which, to your horror, still renders you temporarily speechless. Being so close to him reminds you a little of the first time you ever saw a tiger at the zoo. The animal was so unlike anything you had ever seen before, so deadly and beautiful, that you could hardly believe it was real. Could hardly believe that it was roaring and pacing close enough that you could reach out and sink your fingers into its thick coat if not for the bars. The bars kept you safe, then. What is keeping you safe, now?

It is unsettling, the way his upper set of eyes remain locked on yours while the lower set look down at the hand scalded by your spilt coffee. "What's the matter brat? Hurt yourself?" He mocks as you clutch the injured hand to your chest. You hardly notice that one of his hands has left the counter, but somehow you don't flinch when he lifts it to your cheek to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. "Did I scare you?"

The gentle gesture alongside his mocking words is so disconcerting that you remain a quivering-lipped mute as seconds crawl by at a snails pace. You wonder if the action was subconscious on his part. Seems the only viable explanation.

You don't find your voice again until Toji's breaks whatever hypnosis the monster has you under. "Let's go," he says, and, just like that, Sukuna pulls away and you are finally able to pull air into your lungs again. "Gonna be gone for a couple of days-" Toji begins, addressing you.

"Please tell me you're taking it with you," you interject, stabbing an index finger in Sukuna's direction.

"Yeah," he says. And sukuna gives you one last smug, spider-eyed glare before he disappears through the door.

You're so relieved that it doesn't occur to you how quickly a couple of days can pass. Or that, when they do, your brother might not be the first to return. Relieved, not only to be free of Sukuna's bullying for a time, but also because what you feel is not truly fear. It's more like awe, if you really had to put a name to it. But you make a point not to think about it too much, or at all if you can help it.

taglist ‹ age in your bio to be added ›

@orikixx ; @scorpiosugar ; @just-lilita ; @shesabeeler

[missdynamighttt]

asking bf! katsuki what he feels about prenups makes you fall in love with him all over again.

you were lounging on the couch, legs draped across katsuki’s lap as the tv played some random show neither of you were really watching. his hand rested on your thigh, thumb tracing absentminded circles while you scrolled through your phone.

the thought hit you out of nowhere, and before you could second-guess yourself, you blurted it out.

"hey, what do you think about prenups?"

katsuki froze mid-circle. his eyes shifted from the tv to you, brow furrowing. "the fuck?"

"a prenup," you repeated, sitting up slightly. "y’know, legal agreements before marriage, just in case things go south. if we get married."

"when we get married," he corrected automatically. his brows drew together. "why the hell are you askin’ me about prenups?"

you shrugged, fiddling with the hem of your shirt. "i dunno. i was just curious. a lot of people get them."

katsuki scoffed, sitting up straighter. "yeah, greedy assholes who don't trust each other."

"not always," you countered. "sometimes it's just making sure both people feel secure. it doesn't mean you don't trust each other. to protect assets, just in case—"

katsuki scoffed, cutting you off. "just in case? you plannin’ on leaving me or somethin’?"

your eyes widened. "what? no! i'm just saying—"

he made a face, the kind he always did when he thought something was bullshit.

"tch. i don't need some dumbass piece of paper to tell me what's yours or mine."

"'sides..." he shifted, his hand sliding from your thigh to your chin, tilting your face toward his. "everything i got's yours anyway."

your heart skipped a beat. "everything?"

"yeah. the apartment, the money, the dumb shit i spend on workout gear. all yours. even me," his thumb brushed over your bottom lip. "especially me."

you swallowed hard, warmth flooding your chest. "that’s... really sweet."

his lips twitched into a smirk. "yeah? so does that mean i get all your shit too? ain’t that how it works?"

you grinned. "sure. you can have my stuffed toy collection and my 2 digit savings account."

"fuck yeah," he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "knew you were a catch."

you laughed, swatting his chest. he caught your wrist easily, kissing each and every knuckle. his face softened as he looked at you, calloused hand cradling the back of your head.

"don’t need a prenup, pretty," he said, quieter this time. "what we got... it ain't temporary. i'm all in. always."

your heart melted on the spot. "yeah?"

"yeah," he leaned in closer, his nose brushing yours. "if things do go south, we talk. ‘cause i’d rather die than let you go."

your heart stuttered in your chest. you were expecting some casual discussion, maybe even some banter, but instead, you got this—your boyfriend looking at you like he’d burn the world down before letting anyone take you away from him.

"...so, no prenup?" you squeaked.

katsuki huffed, pressing a firm kiss to your lips. "no fucking prenup."

"now quit talkin' about stupid legal shit and kiss me."

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ hii! inspired by @gojosprettyprincess 's post about opinions on prenups and thought this up >< i PROMISE i will do some requests before i get to the twitter porn links with katsuki^^ hope you guys enjoy!!

[anonymousmarshmallow]

Also, this happens during the hiring games. Every one of them believes it. Only after asking around (and not just the big 3 either, everyone, the nurse staff, janitors, legal, long-term patients). Most of the hospital staff is like 'yeah that makes sense,' and 'they sure do act like it.' Also due to many convoluted reasons they somehow either just miss Wilson or something always comes up right before they mention it. The big 3 deny it cause they don't have to put up with as much House's shit now. But, the contestants all believe both of them were in the closet for reasons and were forced to come out to avoid jail or a lawsuit, which is horrible. Sooooo cut to part of the team trying to be kind and understanding, thinking 'maybe this is why he's such a dick unable to be yourself, and watching other openly express their love while he can't. Of course, he would be bitter. Maybe he's like this to avoid getting close to people because someone he trusted outed him or bullied or blackmailed him once, and he never fully healed. Their all doctors, and they want to help and show support.' This is completely wrong. The other part mainly decides to leverage this situation and "supports" House and Wilson to (hopefully) get cookie points. Chaos ensues.

The nice ones: looking up support groups for the LGBTQ+ and googling how to support someone who just came out, because coming out like this must be upsetting at the very least

House: Stop kissing my ass. That's Wilson's job

Also House: [milking it for all its worth especially during secret Santa] What you'll get your other STRAIGHT co-workers gifts but not me. Is this a hate crime must be?

House: Now that I'm out, it's so difficult with all the patients in the clinic so many homopophobes :(

The nice ones: Covers clinc duty to stop House being exposed to so much hate

The suck ups: mentions how they like Beyonce and RuPaul. Went to a musical once, definitely has a gay cousin or friend, and makes everything go back to being gay and overly defending House fellow people who are equal to them and deserve support. They always supported LGBLT people.

House: [Let's them talk and enjoying them making asses if themselves] Wow, you are so supportive

The suck ups: [says/does something really offensive]

House: [staring in surprise/and a little horror] Little impressed actually going to remember that for later. But I had reasons for medical reasons to what I said, and you don't. Also, you'll get me in trouble with Cuddy, and if you do that, you're fired. [Makes the couple who sued him give a lesson on the LGBTQ+]

The truth doesn't come out until someone catches Wilson on a date and confronts him, either because 'cheating isn't okay he needs to come clean' or 'I can use this and have him talk me up to House' and Wilson is like "What no! I only said that to keep House out of trouble. We never dated. I'M STRAIGHT! N-n-n-not that there's anything wrong wi... I didn't... Look, it was either a small white lie or House goes to jail, and you lose a job. Besides, it's not like I really lied. House is my friend, and he is a boy. He's a boy friend. Yeah, House, he was just messing with you.

The ruse comes to an end with House announcing he had fun and fires someone.

Also, House knows Wilson's dick size because both of them were drunk, and Wilson was shitting on House about not having a girlfriend or whatever making a joke about being bad in bed. Later, at one of their homes, Wilson passed out drunk. House is curious and takes a look and measures.

House would treat two gay patients like shit and get sued for being homophobic and cuddy would go "he's not homophobic, he treats everyone like that!" which does not hold up in court so instead he's like how can I be homophobic when I have a boyfriend? Wilson stand up. Everyone would turn to Wilson (who had ZERO warning about this) and he'd stutter before glaring at House and stand "yes, House is unfortunately my boyfriend"

Then they'd walk out of the courtroom and Wilson would chew him out which House ignores. Cue 3 days layer when Wilson says House needs to clear up they lied about being gay to get him off (ha) and they're not actually dating because he is NOT getting any dates like this. House would walk into the hospital cafeteria and yell "ATTENTION EVERYONE. Doctor Wilson is not my boyfriend." Wilson would nod for 2 seconds before House follows up with "because we're engaged!" and Wilson can't even be mad because why did he think for 2 seconds that House would make it easy for him

House would try to use this as an opportunity to demand less clinic hours (think of it as a wedding gift) which he does not get because Cuddy knows exactly what's going on and she thinks it's hilarious but she needs his ass working

Cuddy: yeah? You two are a thing? How big is he?

House: 5.3 inches

Wilson: how the FUCK do you know that

[anqelrafe]

— ୨ৎ bsf!rafe showing your date what he was missing out on.

synopsis: after getting stood up by your date, your best friend decides he's gonna show him what he could've had. authors note: i'm honestly not sure how i feel about this but i wanted to get something out before i lose motivation. anywayss, enjoy!!. . .♡ content warnings: not proofread. a little rushed cause i'm tired lol. contains smut, mdni. unprotected p in v. dirty talk. oral f.receiving. fingering. praise. on call during sex.

rafe laid on his bed, his head resting comfortably on his pillows with his arm draped lazily over his eyes. he had been listening to you talk about your day for the past hour, just barely listening to bits and pieces. he was really only waiting for you to skip to the lunch date you were supposed to have that afternoon, but you were so stuck on the topic of wanting to try out a new lip combo—whatever that was. so he decided it would just be quicker to just ask you himself.

“what about that date?” he cuts you off mid sentence, moving his arm from his eyes to peer over at you while you leisurely span around in the swivel chair at his desk. “with uhh...what was his name? ayden?” your glossed lips pull into a frown, stopping your spinning “andrew,” you correct, your finger twirling around a loose thread on your shorts. “and it didn't happened. he never came”

rafe's eyes shifted to yours, an annoyed furrow in his eyebrows forming at your admission “you mean that asshole never even showed up?” he scoffed, now fully sitting up against the headboard.

���nope,” your murmur, shifting in your seat “not only that, but he texted me an hour later to tell me he didn't feel like coming.”

“what a pussy,” rafe muttered under his breath, pushing his greasy hair away from his forehead as he tried to suppress an eye roll. he hated it whenever someone wasted your time or let you down. he always thought any guy who you even batted an eye at was incredibly lucky. “he just doesn't deserve you then. n i already told you that you were too good for him. don't know why you don't listen to me. you need to go after guys who would treat you better.”

your lips purse, tilting your head sideways as you toy with the polish on your manicured finger. “uh huh. and who would that be, hm? you?”

“yes.” rafe’s answer is almost immediate and without hesitation. he had no shame, no remorse, no fear. he was straightforward and honest to a fault. “i’d never let you down, you know that. and i'd show you what your date should've done.”

your fingers stop picking at your nail polish, your lips pulling into a thin line. you knew rafe was a good friend, he always had been. but boyfriend material? you weren't so sure. you've seen the way he's run through girls like t-shirts; and you refused to be one of his discards. “rafe—” you started, but he cut you off, waving his hand dismissively.

“nah, nah. don’t ‘rafe’ me. i’m serious. you don't wanna date me? fine. understandable. but at least let me help ya out. y'know, as your friend. i could be uh...setting a standard or...whatever you wanna call it. i could give you a better time than he would've.”

you weren't stupid, you knew what rafe was trying to do. it's how he got all of the island girls to flock over him─manipulation. but was it really manipulation if you wanted it too?

‎ ‎ ─── ✷ ⊹ ࣪

“you taste so fuckin' good. shit — you're drippin for me.” rafe groaned, his eyes trained on drenched folds before they locked on your face, watching the way it contorted in pleasure with every swirl of his tongue against your clit. “feel good, yeah?”

you were only able to force out a few incoherent sounds, the overwhelming pleasure making your brain fuzzy. any guy you've ever slept with never offered or made the slightest effort to eat you out like this. so the new sensation of rafe's tongue had you seeing stars and gasping beneath him. “c'mon, i asked you a question, i want actual words, alright? i want you to tell me how good it feels. and look at me when i'm taking t'you.” rafe spoke against your sex, the vibration of his words making your hips twitch.

“mngh....y-yes.” you breath out, forcing your eyes open to lock to his, “feels good...s'good.” you whimper, glossed lips parting as you stare down at him.

“mmh, there ya go, that's my girl. when i ask something i expect a real answer, yeah?” rafe murmured as two of his long fingers easily slipped into your soaking hole, pulling a mewl from your lips and making your back arch off the mattress slightly. “fuck baby, you're perfect — s'fuckin tight.” he groaned, watching the way your narrow pussy sucked in his fingers, a ring of your slick coating the base of his digits. “y'been giving this pussy to amateurs i bet. don't worry though..i'll stretch ya out real nice.” rafe murmured, wrapping his lips around your clit, sucking on the sensitive bud, your eyes rolling back while his fingers moved in slow, deep strokes, finding the spongy spot that made you cinch around his fingers.

“mgnh...fuck, rafe. i—” you gasp, hands fisting the sheets under you, your words being punctuated by rafe purposely humming around your clit, the vibration making your hips twitch. “mmh yeah i know, pretty girl. gonna cum, yeah? go on baby...make a mess f'me.”

his hands squeeze your thighs as they start to tremble, a loud whine falling from your lips as your orgasm hits, your cunt fluttering around his fingers, glossy eyes squeezing shut. rafe groans against you, lapping your juices as he helps you ride out your orgasm. “yeah, that's it, baby...good girl.”

you felt completely boneless, muscles trembling and skin buzzing all over as you slowly try to come down, catching your breath as he pulled himself up to hover over you, his hand tapping your trembling outer thigh “open up f'me baby.”

your eyes flutter open, thighs shaking as you slowly let them fall open. your eyes half lidded as you stared up at him. rafe groans softly at the sight before him, positioning himself between your legs and slowly slid his leaking tip up and down your glistening lips, teasing your clit slowly.

“fuuuck” rafe groaned as he started to slip his twitching member into your leaking cunt, his eyes fluttering at the sensation of him bottoming out. “shit baby, you're so fuckin' tight...suckin' me in s'good” rafe grunted, his hips starting to snap against yours as he drove his cock in and out, watching your lips part and eyebrows furrow in pleasure.

your head falls back onto the mattress as you mewled beneath him, your lips opening but no words leaving your mouth, already too cock drunk to form any coherent sentences. “bet you needed this, hm? needed this pussy taken care of s'bad, you just had to be fucked by your best friend — you like that, don't you, baby? you like your best friend's cock stretching you out?”

before you could even process what rafe said, the sharp, jarring sound of your phone ringing pierced through the air. the loud and harsh sound causing rafe's eyes to snap up in annoyance, his grip on your hips tightening. “fuckin' christ — who's calling?”

with your brain slowly working to catch up to the situation, the persistent ringing of your phone seemed to finally sink in. your hands fumble around as you search for the phone, eventually finding it. glancing at the caller id, your eyes flutter in surprise, and you let out a whimper, forced to keep your eyes open as rafe's hips continue their relentless rhythm. “w-wait,” you stammer, struggling to catch your breath as you see andrew's name flash across the screen. “i — shit — i need to-”

“answer it.” he ordered, smirking down at you as he watched the name flash on the screen. “let him know your best friend's takin' good care of this pussy.” rafe murmured, noticing the hesitance in your expression.

“wasn't a question.” rafe grunted, taking your phone from your hand without any consent, his thrusts getting rougher as he answered the phone, putting it on speaker. “mmh, y/n's busy. fuck— y'know you're really missin' out though, man. this pussy's a fuckin' dream.” rafe spoke between breathy moans, the sounds of skin slapping and both you and rafe's moans clearly heard on the other end by andrew. “hear that? s'the sound of quality pussy, she’s sucking me in so tightly. bet you wish you were me huh?”

“hey, what is…” andrew's voice comes through the other end of the line, his words trailing off when he realized who he was talking to. “rafe?” rafe's smirk only widens at the sound of the obvious confusion and uneasiness in andrew's voice. “uh huh..” rafe groaned, “fuck man, she's takin' my dick so well; she even makes the prettiest noises f'me wanna hear?” the condescending, almost faux sympathy in rafe's voice was clear, it was obvious he was getting off on this.

he angled the phone closer to your face, making sure the sound of your lewd, almost pornographic moans and whines were clearly heard over the phone. “mmh yeah, all those pretty sounds just for me. but i uh— fuck, she might need to call y'back, man. gonna fill this pussy up soon.”

true to his word, rafe led you through four quivering orgasms after he hung up, letting himself go after your fourth one, his hips stuttering as his cock twitched, his warm liquid spilling inside of you.

“that definitely wasn't our last time...pussy's mine now.” rafe breathed out, collapsing next to you.

taglist 🪽: @bunbun-3 @drewscoquette @untitled10351 @rafesweetie @meetmebehindthemallrafe @supercutelovergirl @drewswife @plaidcowboy @missquantic @rafesdiorperfume @minitarayummy @this-one-weeb @akobx @mystianqel @lacebambidoll @dolletebun @milamilkie @ch6rm @rafesprecious

[savanir]

The cure to vampirism is to never get turned at all

Dick is not ashamed to admit he's in trouble. 

He's surrounded on all sides by vampires (because that's a thing now), he's put in this situation by his sister which is just great. Some ancient vampire lady named Pandora says she needs him to defeat the Queen of Blood named Mary and he's pretty sure that involves him being turned into a vampire as well, which he doesn't want. 

He's good but even he can tell his odds are pretty shit. There is no backup coming and even if he could call them they would never arrive on time. 

And of course he's in his civvies and doesn't have any of his gear. Just fantastic. 

But if he goes down he'll go down fighting.

"DANIEL!!"

everything screeches to a halt as the furious booming male voice echoes through the room. 

A large ornate wooden double door in the back slams open and a young man rushes through slamming them closed behind him.

Intricate red and green flashes of energy cover the doors and then the young man turns to the crowd in the fancy crypt.

"Our young gifted prince? There is no need for you to attend this meeting, But if there is a way we may assis-?" The question hovers in the air, choked off as the young man runs forward and with hands shimmering in eerie venomous green and deep blood red energy he tears through the random vampire's throat, startling all the others. 

"I'm putting an end to this madness, here and now" He drops the gradually disintegrating corpse on the ground. 

"Young prince!?" Exclaims lady Pandora.

For Dick things become a blur after that. Screaming and screeching and inhuman growling. The young man easily tears through them all with his powers. It seems some form of backup did arrive, but if this is a blessing or a curse remains to be seen.

Dick doesn't understand though, he seems to be one of them so why...?

One second they are all still fighting then the next the old vampire lady is lying dead on the ground, gradually turning into dust. The vampires who remain all stare at the young man in shock. “he… he killed Pandora, our oldest. The strongest of us” 

None of them seem to know what to do now. There are a lot of dead vampires all around, in Dick’s humble opinion this meeting could not have gone worse for the acolytes of shadow. He’s not feeling too upset about that though considering what they wanted from him. Still, the fact that they aren’t outright trying to kill this young prince in retaliation… he must be someone special, that alone is more than enough for Dick to keep his guard up around him.

Then the young man darts forward and grabs Dick's wrist, "we have to leave, the seal I put on the door is about to break. I won't be able to protect you from him"

"Who?" Dick can’t help but ask as they both start running for the exit. The young man quickly dragging him up the stairs. For a split second does Dick think about Melinda, he’s not entirely sure if she was among the ones killed or not. She was the one who tricked him into that mess. 

Well, she absolutely knew the consequences, she told them about him being Nightwing, if whatever is left down there decides to punish her for this fiasco that’s probably what she deserves.

"I'll explain everything later, I promise, but we need to go now!"

The furious noises behind them grow steadily in volume. Danny pushes Dick forward as he slams the red fake fridge door closed behind them and another flash or red and green covers that as well, another seal of sorts most likely. The one other person in the kitchen startles as the two of them run past him.

"Who are you?"

"Call me Danny, now this way, quick!" the young prince, Danny apparently, faults over the Waffle House front desk Dick not hesitating to do the same.

"DANIEL HOW DARE YOU!" comes faintly from behind them as Danny slams the fake establishments front doors open and pulls Dick out of there.

"Oh he's next level mad" mutters Danny as they are running again. Meanwhile Dick is just very glad to be breathing in the fresh cold night air of Bludhaven. 

However, his legs are having trouble keeping up with the pace, he has taken some serious hits and those things definitely don't pull any punches. 

He can’t help the faint pained groan and the speed with which the other man snaps his attention back on him almost makes him flinch. 

"Do you need a hand?"

"I'm fine"

"Here let me-" 

Next thing Dick knows he's being carried, if he wasn't friends with so many supers and speedsters he'd probably be flailing. Instead he's just kinda used to it and lets it happen even if it’s a bit awkward what with Danny being a bit shorter than him.

He's glad when they get to a safehouse and Danny puts him on the couch. He then goes to fetch Dick the first aid kit. 

"Who were we running from?"

"Old as balls vampire lord named Vladimir Masters, he’s in cahoots with the acolytes of shadow. And I guess he’s now fully in charge seeing Pandora just had her final death."

Dick pauses and just looks at him. 

"Yes he's really named that" Danny looks rather tired.

"And I'm guessing he's the sort who is going to be a massive headache"

"I mean they had this whole plan of world domination, you were a key player in that plan which is now completely ruined by the way. I was part of it too but I really don't want anything to do with any of that so... here we are"

"Here we are"

It's only when Dick is fully bandaged that Danny flops down in the nearest arm chair and drops his head in his hands and takes a deep shuddering breath. Perhaps all the murder is catching up to him? 

"Are you okay?"

"Don't mind me, I'm just... thirsty... I'll be fine" 

"Ah yes of course, vampire."

"I'm unfortunately a vampire yeah but don’t get it twisted, I'm absolutely not one of them" Danny looks up and sneers, Dick can now clearly see the fangs. “Seeing humans as cattle… the absolute moronic-” Danny trails off in furious muttering. “living in a world with demons and angels and aliens and whatever else but no we’re the ones who deserve special treatment.”

Dick makes a choice and then gets up, Danny watching him go and curiously listening to him opening and closing something in a different room before coming back and holding out a blood bag with a bit of IV tube hanging out of it. 

"Here you go."

“Oh! thank you,” Danny gladly takes the bag, "You just have bags of blood in your house?"  

"You never know when you need an emergency blood transfusion. Especially considering my nightly activities." … you know that sounds kinda vampiric in it’s own way doesn’t it?

Danny snorts and starts drinking. It kind of looks like a huge capri-sun that way. It's sort of adorable. 

If only it wasn't a massive plastic bag of Dick's own blood but whatever. 

They both fall quiet as Danny focuses on his drink and Dick takes a moment to think about the absolute mess he just went through.

“Someone called you gifted… what did they mean by that?”

“This mostly,” Danny holds out his hand and shows Dick the strange glowing mixture of red and green energy he saw down in the crypt. “I am a huge anomaly because I became a vampire while I was half alive and half dead. What that means for the most part is enhanced powers, I am even harder to kill than a regular vampire and you cannot fix my vampirism with one of those disgusting smelling pits of… what was it called? Lar- Lazard?” “Lazarus,”

"Yes that! Anyway I am like.. the backup to their world domination plan, initially they just wanted me to be their weapon but I have morals, pesky things, super annoying according to them. Which is why they decided to ‘recruit’ you. But I managed to screw that up too.” Danny looks very satisfied with himself about that. 

“Thanks for that” Dick says genuinely earning him a cheeky sharp fanged grin from Danny. Though he wished it had not involved such a massive carnage, he’s very glad he’s not a vampire right now. Beggars can’t be choosers he guesses.

“It would probably be best to get the League involved, root them all out. Vlad is definitely going to make more drastic moves now that things have turned out this way.”

Dick ponders to himself, “Yeah… let’s be Helsing about it,” He already got a Vampire on his side too.

Danny dejectedly looks down at his empty blood bag, “... can I have another?” He asks carefully.

“Sure!” responds Dick with a smile that finally manages to ease the tension out of Danny’s shoulders.

[m-jelly]

hi jelly you don't have to do this if you don't want to, i just love all your levi fics soooo much!!!

can i request a smutty levi x fem reader in canon (she's a scout) where they're already in a relationship...and levi is a bit obsessed with her boobs? He is always pawing at her breasts, playing with them with his hands through her bra or shirt, suckling on them...during sexual moments he does that and sometimes he just plays and bounces them and sucks them casually in a non-sexual setting just for fun too...You can take the story line in whatever direction you please, as short scenarios with cuts, or continuous with plot, completely your choice!

Soft and squishy

Levi x fem reader

Canon world, being a couple, reader's chest is on the larger side, breast play, smut aspects.

Levi adores your chest so much, he just can't help himself and you love him touching it.

Had your straps gotten tighter? Was your shirt smaller than normal? Was your bra the wrong size? Whatever it was, Levi loved it. Your plump and big bouncing breasts were more incredible than ever, it seemed impossible for that to happen, but here Levi was eyeing your chest.

He slammed his fist against the wall making the cadets jump, it was so he could curb his desires for you. He clenched his jaw when you started jogging with your cadets, everything was bouncing and he just wanted to shove his face into your chest and bite.

"Team dismissed." He panted a little as the cadets sprinted off thankful that he'd let them go. He stormed over to you and sternly said your name causing your team to cower. "Meeting."

You eyed your wonderful boyfriend. People were scared, but you smiled brightly at him. "Sure!" You hurried after him. "Levi? Could you slow down a bit? You're moving really fast."

He turned, picked you up like a bride and then started racing to his room. He ignored your protests and questions. All he could think about was getting you alone. When he reached his room, he closed the door with a kick and sat you on his desk. He locked it and released a long sigh before repeating your name with a voice laced with arousal.

You shifted on his desk. "Everything okay Levi?"

He turned to you. "Explain yourself."

You frowned a little as you felt confused at his statement. "I don't follow?"

He raced over to you. "You know what I'm talking about."

You nibbled your lip. "I really don't." You looked up at him through your lashes. "I'm sorry if it's something bad."

He looped his finger around the strap over your breasts. "Your shirt is tighter than normal. Your bra doesn't fit you right like it's too small."

You whined a little. "You noticed." You laughed a little at your words. "Of course, you would notice." You sighed and looked up at him. "It's not my bra and shirt, that's why. I stayed over at my friend's house, remember?"

He nodded. "For a few days. I missed you."

"I missed you too!" You pulled at your shirt. "Well, I went in my gear and I helped her do some DIY, but unfortunately I got very dirty. She offered to clean my bra and shirt but it wasn't done before I had to come in today. She offered me her shirt and bra, but she's a smaller size than me. I had to make do."

He stared at your chest as he gulped hard. "Can I see?"

You undid the strap over your chest. "Sure."

Levi grabbed your hands. "W-Wait. M-may I?"

You pushed your chest out a little. "Of course, I know it's your favourite part."

He popped the button with ease and saw your breasts were threatening to fall out. He kept undoing more buttons to reveal your boobs being pressed and squished by the smaller bra. "Fuck..."

"Warned you it was bad."

He reached over and massaged. "Shit." He grabbed your shirt and ripped it open causing buttons to fly. "You are so sexy."

You gasped. "Levi, this is my friend's shirt."

He pulled your straps off. "I'll get her another one, it's fine." He pulled the shirt off you. He tugged on the bra, but it was on tight. "Damn thing." He pushed his hand under the band of the bra. "Your poor boobs must hurt."

You hummed in pleasure as he kissed and licked the tops of them. "They do. Could you help me?"

He unclipped your bra before you could fully get your request out. "Yes."

You moaned in relief as the bra slipped down your arms and your boobs were finally free. "Mm, better."

He lightly ran his finger over a red mark on your breast. "It marked you." He leaned closer and ran his tongue over the mark. "How dare it. Only I'm allowed to mark you."

You tangled your fingers in his hair as he began licking and sucking at your chest. You panted softly as your body began to tingle with pleasure. You shivered as he lifted your weighty breast allowing him better access to it. You mewled as his other hand gripped and squeezed your waist.

Levi pulled back with a pop. "More. I need more." He picked you up and sighed. "Come with me."

You held on tightly to him. "Levi, I'm too heavy to carry."

"You're perfection." He sat on the bed and put you on his lap. He nestled against the headboard before smiling at you. "Look at you."

You massaged your fingers in his hair. "You make my heart race."

"Good. I want you to love me and adore only me." He leaned closer and licked your nipple. "You're the only person I've ever deeply loved. You're my first in everything."

Your cheeks heated up. "Mine too." You hummed as he sucked on your peak. "I hope you don't grow tired of me."

He popped your nipple from his mouth and panted. "Are you kidding me? Never. Tch, silly brat." He gripped your left breast firmly and admired how it was trying to spill out between his fingers. "Look at you." He growled. "I fucking love you."

"I love you." You whimpered a moan as he pressed your boobs together so your nipples were close. You cried out in pleasure when he took both into his mouth. "Le-Levi."

He released them and began softly massaging. "Do you feel good?"

You purred. "Yes." You nipped your lip. "Can I touch you?"

He blushed. "Yes." He grunted and felt his heart racing when he heard you undoing his belt. His breath hitched when you grasped his erection. "Mm." He moaned your name. "You feel so good." He panted as you moved your hand up and down his smooth hot shaft. He moaned your name.

You kissed his cheek before kissing him passionately. You purred as you adored how hot and needy he was for you. You shifted a little causing Levi to growl. "Don't worry, my boobs are not going anywhere."

He grabbed your back and yanked you closer so your breasts were in his face. He dragged his hands over your body and pushed up your chest. He showered them with kisses and began massaging them again. He latched onto the top of your breast, his tongue moving against the soft delicate skin.

He flicked your nipple with his tongue and lovingly sucked it. He hummed in delight. He started panting against your chest causing your skin to burn with pleasure. His moans changed, he was close to the end. He was always so flustered when you doted on him. He grunted and shifted under you.

Levi moaned your name as he came against your hand, his stomach and yours. He released your breasts and hummed. He panted a moment as he came down from his high. He lifted you and laid you down. "Stay here."

You giggled as he ran to the bathroom before returning to you. You sighed as he started cleaning you. "Thank you."

He placed the cloth down before crawling over you. "I want to eat you."

You arched your back a little. "I'm all yours."

@ladycheesington @levisbrat25 @nyxiieluna @li-anne @galactict3a @youre-ackermine @thebobaprincess @2moth-anon2 @cypidity @nbinairyn @bts-spnlvr12 @darkstarlight82 @emilyyyy-08 @levistealeaf @pelicanpizza @hideandgopeep @notgoodforlife @demonic-bird @searriously @dreamerofthewest @abiatackerman @minminroie

[weaselle]

this is great because it is building toward at least one of my two big hopes for the next year.

1: i hope the political right falls to infighting

Did you know that most neo-nazi murders turn out to be at the hands of other neo-nazis? Like, they mostly hang-out with each other (i mean they hate anyone who isn't like them) and they're all evil violent people, so. They kill each other.

In much the same vein, i'm hoping that like, musk and trump will hate each other for hogging the spot light, and turn their core cult of followers against each other in an even more rabid than usual way (nothing angers like the perceived betrayal by someone you thought was on your side) and i hope every other leadership role on that side gets swept up in that kind of infighting

2: i hope that trump (and maybe a few others but definitely trump) dies of natural causes in pubic

first of all, i really really hope it's natural causes AND in public because the conspiracy theories are going to pop off no matter what, and i don't want him to me a martyr of some kind

but i mean. The man is old and he has done so many drugs. And he eats like shit and doesn't exercise. Surely the time has come for him to have some kind of fatal stroke or something. And i wouldn't mind if musk and a couple others had heart attacks and shit tbh. I've never been the kind to wish death on anyone, not even in the privacy of my own head, but we're at a point where.. the entire world would be a safer better place if he died. so

And like. Maybe musk becoming an enemy will stress him right into a medical emergency and we'll get a two-fer

“When Trump attempted to join in on the answer, Hannity seemed more eager to follow up on Musk’s response, explicitly cutting the president off. “Sean, you’re a—” Trump started, pointing at the Fox News host. “This is important,” Hannity responded to Trump, raising his hand to stop him. Last week, Musk spent more time talking to reporters than Trump did during their joint press conference. The image to the rest of the world was clear: While Trump hunched over the Resolute Desk, the world’s richest man took the reins. MSNBC’s Lawrence O’Donnell measured the time spent talking by each administrative figurehead and found that Musk had spoken 3,666 words at the executive order signing, whereas Trump spoke 2,487 words.”

—

Elon Musk Talks Over Trump in Humiliating Sean Hannity Interview

I am not kink shaming anyone. It’s just hilarious to me that the MAGA strongman the dumbest people in the world worship as some kind of mythical warrior just keeps getting cucked by Edoph over and over again.

[aaagustd]

dreams | myg (m)

title: dreams pairing: min yoongi x (f)reader genre/rating: arranged marriage, smut but no smut, pining; 18+ summary: Yoongi would have never guessed that you'd be the girl of his dreams. warnings: pining, whipped!yoongi, wet dreams, implied smut, yoongi touching himself(aka his big dick), ruined orgasm wc: 0.5k release date: february 19th, 2024; 9:13pm est author’s note: Some of you may recognize this lol. I really want to add to this, but we’ll see. divider credit: 1, 2

masterlist | inbox | read on wattpad | read on ao3 | join my taglist

"W-We're going to be late."

You can barely get your words out because every thrust leaves you gasping for air. Your hands grip the railing while you lean over it. The sound of one of your diamond earrings hitting the marble floor goes unheard due to the obscene noises traveling through the mansion.

"That's cool," he grunts. "I don't wanna go anyway."

When Yoongi saw you in that little black dress, he knew his plans were canceled. He's going to need the entire night to appreciate this look. He couldn't even muster up the patience to drag you to bed. How the hell was he supposed to behave for a three hour long event?

"Shit, I'm cumming...!"

This is music to his ears. 

Though he has more plans for you tonight; right now he's only trying to release all the pressure threatening to squirt out of him at any given second.

You've been teasing him all day, testing his patience. He can't hold on anymore. He feels like he might explode.

"Fuck, baby. Me too—"

03:43 am

Not again.

Restless nights have become the norm for Yoongi. Since you moved in, a good night for him is any time he can get a solid five hours.

Tonight is no different. As soon as he drifts off to sleep, he's haunted by the sweetest dreams he's ever had.

His instinct is to savor every moment he can be near you so intimately, but he reminds himself that fantasizing about you in that way is stepping into dangerous territories.

Just because you're his wife, doesn't mean you're his lover or that you'll ever be.

Yoongi doesn't understand how this happened. He was just as resentful of this marriage as you were, but at some point, it all changed. How did you manage to capture his heart when the two of you barely speak?

Shoving the covers away from his body does little to cool him down. The images from his feverish dream still plague his mind.

He bites his lip, pushing those out of his imagination. It's wrong to think like that.

His heart hurts a little whenever he sees your demeanor change as you walk through the front door. It's like you're leaving your real life behind as you're returning to hell.

That's why he tries so hard to make this easier.

Sleeping in a separate room, staying out late, only speaking when necessary—he knows how to stay out of the way. Although sometimes he can't help but wonder... Do you ever get lonely?

He sure as hell does.

Every day women throw themselves at him, expecting him to entertain their promiscuity. But he never does.

He could, and no one would say a word. However, even if he did desire someone else, he could never embarrass you.

Before that happens, he'll slide down his boxers and relieve himself alone, biting into his pillow so you don't hear him crying out your name through the walls.

If he's lucky, he'll pass out after, and be out of his misery.

Hopefully.

Yoongi rolls over and lies on his back, staring at the ceiling as his hand slowly strokes over his skin. The dream he just escaped from starts replaying in his mind, picking up where it ceased. He's already feeling a tingling sensation coursing through his body.

That's it. He's already worked up. Now, he's ready to—

Did he just hear someone knock?

want part 2?? leave a reblog/comment, visit my inbox, or vote

[midnite-c6]

ICKY RLS NAMGYU ARGUMENT HATEFUCK PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

< icky namgyu icky namgyu icky namgyu 3 roh jae wons new photos r making me ovulate (respectfully) byeeee 💔 I MISS NAMGYU sorry this fic is 4 the ppl who mstch my freak only 💔

icky!nam-gyu x reader || warnings: DARK content, 18+, hate sex, hair pulling, nam-gyu's an incel & a mysoginist here 💔 (toxic boyfie), dubcon, degradation

◍⁠✧⁠*⁠。for some reason, you stay, despite his CLEAR red flags, despite how he treats you, you stay. maybe because there are some sweet moments (if you squint), maybe because he gives the best dick, but it doesn't outweigh how filthy he is to you, and it doesn't change how he makes your face wet from tears more than your pussy :(, poor little thing.

so it really took all your courage to kindly ask him to clean a lil' bit, since your small shared apartment was disgusting, dishes uncleaned, clothes all over the place, used tissues beside his desk because he just loves to jerk off infront of his computer, even when your laying in your shared bed, he knows it makes you jealous everytime he plays a video of "a girl who's much prettier than you"

"please atleast learn to throw used cups and tissues inside the garbage bag, nam-gyu, can you even smell the place? clean up, right now." the concerned girlfriend you are reasonably argued, walking right behind his office chair, yet, he brushed you off with a laugh and a dramatic groan. he was not one to take you seriously. "really? why make me a sandwich first, dummy." he says, as a joke, of course. after so many jokes just like that one, it can't help but piss you off. like it was your last straw. "please! just clean up after yourself you... pig." he was silenced, turning his face with a look far from amused, "you're serious, cunt?" that name rolled so easily on his tongue, "i'm just telling you to be a grown up-" his hand cuts you off by tugging on the ends of your hair, making you get on his level since he was sitting down, he was furious you'd have to tell him this, "wowwww... you... tryna' teach me how to be an adult?" you can't help but be quieter in these moments.

he stands up, still having a tight hold on your hair. "dumb bitch, you've got no right to tell me shit." he drags you as he walks near your shared bed together, "...you fucking horny jerk- all you think about is sex-!" he throws you easily onto the mattress as he shoves your face into a pillow, cutting you off- again, straddling behind you. "dammit, shut up! you're annoying mouth needs to be quieter, god." your complaints were no muffled. "your thoughtless mind's got no right to tell me anything. got that?" he pushes your head harder onto the pillows, making sure you understand what he's saying. you shake your head in spite, wiggling your body, not wanting to be dominated by him, again.

he groans, "so damn stubborn," pulling your shorts down until its fully off, like it was second nature he does this everytime the two of you fight, already revealing your flushed pussy since he oh-so "politely" asks you to not wear any panties anymore since it's quote-on-quote lets it breathe & makes it healthier. you agree upon than request since he's ripped too many too count, he doesn't care, he doesn't contribute any money to anything you own anyway. "you better say you're sorry, or i'll force you to apologize dumbfuck." his hand releases your hair for you to respond, and snakes to your folds instead. "you're fucking sick... i'm only asking for y... you to be a ..decent human being..."

"that's not an apology." he flips you over, turning you to face him, his hands wrapping on the back of your knees, folding you in half, just to slam his already-hard dick inside, he barely gives you any prep which backfires on him aswell. your tight cunny makes him groan from the sting. "shit- you should be used to this by now, haven't i fucked this pussy enough?" you sob, how were you supposed to defend yourself now?

he starts to effortlessly roll his hips grinding his dick inside you, you can't help but make even more noises, stringing out phrases less meaningful than the last. "y-you sick fuck..hnmh..!" you weren't saying stop, which surprised him for the most part, you were just so overstimulated by the pain he was giving.

"i'm a sick fuck? i'm a sick fuck? maybe the true sick fuck is how easily you suck me in."

"or how your cunt tightens everytime i insult you."

this earned more sobs from you, and he can't help but be proud of himself. he just wants to insult you over and over again. "fucking hell. you're a dissapointment compared to the amateur girls i find on the internet." that always gets you the most, tears building up on the corners of your eyes, of course you can't compare to them.

"look. you're crying." he leans in to lick the tear running past your cheek. also effectively pulling out to slap his dick against your folds, your conflicted in whether to cry at his mean words or cry because he's teasing you. your reaction just makes him chuckle! thankfully he shoves himself back in, "just for you." you know he's only ramming his cock to hit your cervix over and over again so you'll forget about that stupid argument that you he started. "you clean my dick dry, can't you clean the place too?" oh how rewarding would it be to slap that sadistic grin off his face, but unfortunately, you showed him how much of a moaning mess you are... just for him.

and when he folds you further, your legs on either sides of your face, as he cums warm, thick ropes of his seed inside you, making your face contort into an image so lewd, with your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your tongue sticking it out, he sighs. "ah, atta' girl, that's the face i stayed for." he never compliments you so now you and him knows full well how that comment would secure your place as his "lover" cocksleeve for the rest of your life. (⁠灬⁠º⁠‿⁠º⁠灬⁠)⁠♡

guys the chokehold of the mating press on me these past few days. ALSO size difference ughhhhhhhh. i havent checked squid game tag in ahwule i hope the world needs another namgyu hatefuck💓

[ao3-deviance]

(After MUCH waiting, I present Part 2 of this Hair Care ficlet)

(Also on Ao3 now)

Kirishima was sitting on the floor of his bedroom, reading over one of the conditioners Bakugou had gotten him, when the blond knocked twice before coming in without waiting for a response. It was seven in the morning. 

"You're up. Good." Bakugou nodded. Kirishima smiled sheepishly. He didn't necessarily make a habit of sleeping in, but compared to Bakugou--who woke up at five every day to go running--he guessed he slept in kind of late usually. He'd tried to wake up earlier today, knowing the blond would want to start early. 

"Did you wash your hair yesterday?" Bakugou asked, coming over and sitting across from him, pulling the bleaching kit over for him to read over. 

Kirishima blinked. "Yes?" He said unsurely. 

Bakugou glanced up, frowning. "Shit. I forgot to say yesterday. It's better to not wash it a couple days before you bleach it, helps build up oils so the bleach doesn't irritate your scalp as much." 

"Really?"

Bakugou nodded, looking down at the kit again with a frown. 

"I don't really want to wait until next weekend though," Kirishima frowned. "Can we still do it anyways? I won't wash it before next time. It doesn't usually bother me too much anyways unless I leave it on too long."

"Don't ever leave it on longer than the box says, idiot," Bakugou grumbled, rolling his eyes. "But fine, it's your head. Come on, let's get this started. How many times do you bleach it normally?" He grabbed the bowl Kirishima had put beside the stuff to start mixing, nodding at some of the other supplies as he pulled on some gloves. 

"At least two," Kirishima admitted sheepishly. He hated taking up Bakugou's whole free day with this, although the blond didn't react beyond a nod.

"Alright. Put the towel around your shoulders. I'll part your hair in a second." 

Kirishima did, sitting and watching the blond work at getting the bleach ready. It was a little strange but mostly the silence was comfortable. Bakugou gestured for him to turn around, sitting behind him. Kirishima felt hyper-aware of him as Bakugou grabbed his brush. 

Kirishima's mom used to brush his hair all the time, though it had been sometime now. He liked having other people play with his hair. And this was Bakugou. He leaned back into the touch after the first pass of the brush through his hair, slumping his shoulders.

Bakugou was efficient but Kirishima noticed he was also careful, easily getting the few tangles out of his hair without pulling. Then he parted his hair into four sections, tapping Kirishima's shoulder for the other to offer up his hair clips one at a time. He smiled softly to himself. It was nice, working together like this without having to speak. Just like when they fought together as a team. Coupled with the early morning, the quiet of the dorm, the steadiness of Bakugou's movements...Kirishima hummed lowly, closing his eyes and just following the other's silent direction. 

Kirishima had opened his balcony door earlier since he knew the bleach smell was strong, and the breeze it brought in was nice as he felt the first touch of the wet brush to his hair. He tried to sit still, feeling the familiar tingling in his scalp. He would have to remember next time what Bakugou had said about not washing his hair a day or two before. The blond really knew everything, it seemed.   

It felt like it took no time for Bakugou to finish applying the bleach. Much quicker than Kirishima when he tried to do it himself, but then, he was always having to check in the mirror and twist all kinds of ways to make sure he got all the spots. It probably would go quicker with Bakugou's help, actually. He grinned. Maybe they could spar this afternoon after all. 

"Thirty minutes," Bakugou said, his voice almost startling Kirishima since they'd been so quiet. He turned around to see Bakugou discarding the gloves and setting a timer on his phone. "Then we can do the next coat after you wash that off." He smirked. "Heh, going to be weird to see you as a blond." 

Kirishima blushed. "Man, blond really isn't my color. Suits you better." He grinned. "Hey, ever think about dying your hair? Coloring your hair would be super easy. You could do, like, orange tips or something, like an explosion!"

Bakugou opened his mouth, face growing redder, before he closed it again. "I'm not dying my hair," he finally spoke, sounding strained. 

"Awe, but it'd be super cool, man," Kirishima tried, not really thinking he'd get the other to agree. "Or what about red tips?" He was surprised though by the lack of an immediate 'no.' He looked up to see Bakugou biting his lip, refusing to meet his gaze. 

"Let's just finish your hair, hair for brains," Bakugou shifted, eyes landing on Kirishima's laptop. "Let's watch something, kill the time."

"Sure, sure," Kirishima agreed. 

They existed comfortably within their rhythm. Kirishima went to wash out the first coat once the timer went off and by the time he returned Bakugou was already ready with some gloves and the bleach again. Honestly they were going much faster than Kirishima had ever managed, but even more so, Kirishima appreciated just having some time with his best friend. 

With the second bleaching, his hair got lighter, and then it was time to apply the red dye. 

“No, not yet,” Bakugou said as Kirishima reached for the box of dye to hand to him. “Purple shampoo first.” He handed Kirishima a bottle. 

Kirishima blinked down at it. “Purple shampoo? What does that do?” 

“Neutralizes the yellow tone. Helps the color. Just trust me.”

“Aye, aye!” Kirishima agreed easily, teasing. Bakugou rolled his eyes, but he had a fond look on his face and Kirishima's heart squeezed. 

After the purple shampoo was used, then it was time for the dye. 

“Okay,” Bakugou said, reading the box. “Maybe with the purple shampoo, you'll only need one application, but we'll see.”

“Can't believe how fast we're managing this,” Kirishima said as Bakugou started to separate his hair. His eyes closed and he titled his head back a little into the blond's touch. “Usually takes me forever just to get through the bleaching.” 

“I'll bet,” Bakugou muttered around a hair clip between his teeth. “Surprised you never miss a spot.”

“I do sometimes,” Kirishima admitted. “That's part of what takes so long. I'll think I'm done and then have missing pieces I have to fix.”

“Ugh.” Bakugou's nose scrunched in distaste. “That sounds irritating. Just let me help you. Fucking stupid to waste the whole day on this shit.” 

Kirishima smiled, tilting his head up even more so he could catch Bakugou's eyes. “Thanks, man. I really appreciate it.”

Bakugou grunted, not directly responding, but Kirishima didn't need him to. He closed his eyes, feeling Bakugou applying the dye methodically. He hummed to himself, an age-old theme song to some hero cartoon he used to watch as a kid, and he smiled when he heard Bakugou humming the back up vocals but still didn't open his eyes. 

You're welcome. I appreciate you. You are cared for, Bakugou's actions said without words. Kirishima soaked up Bakugou’s care as much as his hair soaked up the dye. 

Once the dye was done, Kirishima turned around to see a couple foil pieces in Bakugou’s hair in the front. 

“Oh? Are you really dying your hair?” Kirishima asked, surprised. He didn’t even know when Bakugou had had a chance to do that. 

“Just the front couple pieces,” Bakugou said, face a little red, and he refused to meet Kirishima’s gaze. 

“Nice! I’m excited to see it; I’m sure you’ll look awesome!” 

Bakugou grumbled to himself but didn’t argue, instead turning back on the show they were watching and sitting with his arms crossed. Kirishima grinned to himself, brushing against the other as they balanced the laptop between them. 

Spar or not, it was a good day.

Hair Care, Pt. 1

Kirishima combed his fingers through his hair, turning his head side to side and sighing at the black roots. He needed to redo it again. He dropped his hands to the counter, grabbing his headband to push his hair back and cover his roots. He'd run to the store after classes and get some more dye. It wasn't the quickest process, especially since he had to bleach the black first, so he would basically have to spend his whole off day from school doing it.

He took the teasing about being late and not having his hair styled with a shrug and a smile. Everyone was good natured about it and he just claimed to have woke up too late to style it, wearing the headband to keep it out of his face. He was sure most of the class could probably guess that he dyed his hair, but he still enjoyed the illusion, like maybe he was actually brave and not just pretending by slapping on color from a box.

"Oi, Shitty Hair," Bakugou called out as usual as they were dismissed from class.

Kirishima couldn't hold back a grimace. Bakugou always called him that, but on days like this, it tended to hit a little too close to heart. He managed a slightly strained smile.

"Hey, man. What's up?"

"Let's spar tomorrow. We've got an off day so we can use the gym all afternoon."

Kirishima frowned. "Ah, sorry. I can't tomorrow."

Bakugou's brow scrunched. "You got plans already?"

"I mean, kind of?" Kirishima winced. "Not exactly fun plans, just a chore I got to do. It'll take a couple hours at least."

Bakugou sighed longsufferingly. "Fine, what is it? I can help and it'll go faster. Then we can spar."

"Um." Kirishima hesitated. "It's not...really something the amount of people can change how fast it goes."

Bakugou scowled, turning away. "Fucking whatever, okay, if you didn't want to just say so." He started to stomp off with his shoulders high, tense. Shit, he'd hurt his feelings.

"No, wait, I do want to!" Kirishima called out, snatching his bag and rushing after him. "It's just," he exhaled. "It's my hair, alright? I've got to dye it again, my roots are growing out," he admitted, kicking his feet against the ground. "Not exactly something fun though. Or something worth bragging about."

Bakugou cut his eyes at him from the side. He seemed contemplative now instead of mad. Kirishima startled when he suddenly reached out, fingers grabbing a lock of Kirishima's hair and rubbed it between his fingers.

"That's why your hair's shitty," he said.

Kirishima flinched this time, looking away and feeling a bit of a burn in his eyes he tried to ignore. He grabbed his arm with his opposite hand, slumping. Yeah, he knew Bakugou had rude nicknames for everyone, but he hadn't thought Bakugou meant it when he called him Shitty Hair.

"Fuck, no, that's not--" Bakugou blurted out quickly. Kirishima peeked at him to see the blond actually looking a little flustered. "My mom knows all this shit about hair and I kind of picked some of it up on accident. Your hair's dry from the bleaching and the dye. You don't use the right conditioner. That's what I meant."

Kirishima blinked. That was the most he'd ever heard Bakugou say at one time without yelling.

"Let me help," Bakugou asked. Then he scowled. "No. No choice. I'm helping you," he stated, turning and grabbing Kirishima's wrist to tug him forward. Kirishima helplessly followed.

His mom and dad hadn't had any experience with hair dye so Kirishima had just had Google and the box instructions to follow. He wasn't against getting some advice from someone who knew what they were doing though. He had noticed his hair was dryer and more brittle, he just hadn't known there was an option to fix that without stopping dyeing his hair.

At the store, Bakugou stalked to the hair section, scanning the boxes. "What do you usually get?"

Kirishima pointed to one of the boxes on the bottom shelf, fire engine red.

"You can't just use any shit" Bakugou tsked, as he looked at the back of the box. "This one's fucking awful. Never use permanent dye, that's why you get roots so bad. Use semi permanent. You have to redye it either way, but this way it'll fade more evenly and be less noticeable, just might be darker overall if black's your natural," Bakugou explained, grabbing a different dye and shoving it in Kirishima's arms. He didn't say anything about the hair bleach Kirishima grabbed, so he guessed that wasn't bad. He turned to the register.

"The fuck you going?" Bakugou called out, further down the aisle.

Kirishima held up the two boxes. "To buy these? We're done, right?"

Bakugou's eyes bugged and he sputtered. "That's it?" He stressed. "What about oil? Leave in conditioner? Treated shampoo?"

Kirishima blinked, tilting his head just a little. "What?"

Bakugou groaned. "This is why your hair is so dry, damn." He dragged Kirishima down the aisle to some hair oils. "You at least need coconut oil. Argon is good too."

"Okay," Kirishima said slowly. Bakugou looked over them quickly before grabbing a green bottle of coconut oil.

"Leave in conditioner helps too," Bakugou explained. "Some of them can even help your dye last longer." He grabbed another. "Please tell me you at least use shampoo for dyed hair."

"Of course!" Kirishima defended, pointing the brand he usually got.

Bakugou looked apocalyptic. "2-in-1 shampoo?!" He practically screeched.

Kirishima winced. "I thought that was good? Extra hydration?"

"I'm exploding that when we get back," Bakugou informed him, grabbing a different bottle. He grabbed another conditioner as well.

"I need two conditioners?" Kirishima asked as he followed him to the register.

"One for in the shower to wash out, one's leave in," Bakugou said gruffly, grabbing the boxes from Kirishima and throwing them all on the belt. Kirishima was getting out his wallet when he realized Bakugou was paying.

"Hey, wait! It's for me, dude, I can pay!"

"It's a lot of extra shit you don't usually get, I'll get them this time," Bakugou said, accepting his change. He smirked. "Once you see the difference, you'll see why it's worth it."

"I'm kind of starting to think you like doing this kind of stuff," Kirishima said as they headed back.

"You need to take of your hair. It's part of your image as a hero." Bakugou said, and Kirishima could see a bit of a blush cross his face. "You're also apparently a dumbass."

Kirishima laughed. "I appreciate it, Bakugou."

"Whatever. We'll get started tomorrow morning. Should be done by lunch."

"Thanks!"

.....

(To Be Continued)

[pastillcs]

i need more people to capitalize on how funny dinners at the wayne manor must be when at least 3 of the bats are dating a Kent.

the first time bruce brings clark home, it's a bit of a pandemonium. half the children have their eyebrows raised, either out of intrigue or surprise, while alfred and dick have the smuggest "i fuckin' knew it" smiles on their faces. damian is the most confused one out of the bunch, having been raised as an al-ghul and probably carrying over some form of internalized homophobia at first.

cass and duke are incredibly supportive, but the glint in their eyes betrays a sense of danger that sends a chill down clark's spine. plus points if they team up to scare the living daylights out of clark on one of his increasingly frequent visits to the manor, with both of them chuckling to themselves after walking off.

"he may be the man of steel, but he's in gotham tonight."

tim and jason are the living embodiments of "what the fuck." in fact, one of the only times tim, jason, and damian ever concede to a truce is after clark's fourth time eating dinner at the house. after eating, clark stands up to help alfred wash the dishes, and the three of them share a Look- reconvening in damian's room once clark had left to debrief on the whole debacle.

"washing the dishes, really?"

"next thing you know, he'll be sleeping over here on the weekends."

"i don't understand why father appears to be so happy with him. the alien has no prospects-"

"don't say that in front of B. you'll break his heart."

"but- !!"

clark isn't the one to sleep over at the manor the next weekend though. as soon as damian (loudly) announces to his family during dinner that his "best friend" is going to be sleeping over for a few days, twiddledee and tweedledum share another Look. dick firmly drapes an arm on either of their shoulders as a warning.

("demon brat has friends??" "fuck if i know.")

grayson and cain end up as the main babysitters for the rest of the weekend, with the latter turning out to be the kids' favorite. (no surprises here, she just lets them do whatever while she reads in the corner; much to dick's dismay. and broken heart.) dami and jon had a blast that night, and if bruce walks into the damian's room to find the youngest bat sleeping soundly with the youngest kent curled up beside him, then that's only for bruce to know.

tim and kon decide to hold off on the whole "meeting the family" gig for a while. when kon asks, tim just smiles and gives him a quiet kiss on the temple. he doesn't mention the fact that he's about 97.8% sure that his two oldest brothers might end up bursting a blood vessel when they find out that another one of them is dating a kent.

(he ends up bringing kon over to the manor a few weeks later to watch jason nearly choke on his wellington after he not-so-subtly kisses his lover on the cheek, shit-eating grin unfurling on his face. it's payback for tripping him during patrol the other day.)

clark, slightly concerned: this isn't illegal, right.

bruce, having already seen this coming: nope. it's fine.

dick: sooo, does this just run in the family then?

bruce does not dignify that line of questioning with an answer.

[rosy-hollow]

Your boyfriend Bakugou Katsuki, is a DC nerd. And you? a marvel geek.

You can imagine how this goes.

When Katsuki first steps into your dorm room, he thinks it's normal enough - until he notices the small Tony Stark Funko Pop resting on the shelf above your desk.

"Oh you've got to be shitting me."

"Huh? What do you mean?"

Your blonde boyfriend frowns, red eyes glaring at the plastic figurine - stomping over and snatching it up in his hands.

"You're into this shit?"

You gape at him incredulously. "How dare you speak about Tony that way?! I paid like 5000 yen (35 USD) for that!"

Katsuki grimaces at you, brows furrowing. "You can't be serious. Bruce Wayne's got way cooler shit than this bastard."

Your jaw drops to the floor. "You're a DC fan?!"

Bakugou clicks his tongue. "I'm the better fan."

Now obviously, you don't let this little dispute come between you much, but it sure does make for some ...interesting conversation.

On the way to training, you'll hear:

"He literally doesn't have a human heart!"

"His family got fucking murdered when he was eight!"

"Tony's parents got murdered too!"

Or-

"The fuck does this 'Hawkeye' even do - motherfucker doesn't even have superpowers."

"For the record- Hawkeye is amazing. And at least he's realistic! Who the fuck is practically invincible only to start dying from a stupid space rock."

Aizawa's pretty sure you both argue over this more than Midoriya gushes over All Might.

A/N: def based off of me arguing with my uncle over marvel and dc - like i love him but respectfull you're wrong (jkjk i like both, just marvel better)

[ao3cassandraic]

Flooding the zone

Like many in the US right now, I'm having trouble holding my shit together. It's a day-by-day, night-by-nightmare thing. I do not read mainstream news. I have what social media I have left (including this hellsite) filtered to hell and back, because it doesn't take much to send me into a spiral.

So if that's you too right now, I feel you, and I swear I'm not writing this post to make it worse.

I'm writing it to ask us to think about what we're saying and doing and how we're spending our energy.

I'm not a political scientist, but I read a few. I'm not a labor theorist, but I am a union member and officer. Our situation in the US rhymes with other situations, geographically and historically, and one thing that's crystal clear is there are ways to stop this shit and it takes numbers and actions and often time.

The numbers are maybe smaller than you think? That one surprised me. Active resistance from maybe 5% of the population has stopped coups cold.

The rub is, best I can tell, that it's hard to say exactly which actions are gonna turn the tide, never mind when -- this shit's complicated and contextual and frequently opportunistic (as with President Yoon's faceplant in South Korea) such that even hindsight gets a bit murky.

So it seems to me that what it makes sense to do is flood the zone, as they say in American football, and keep flooding it. And yeah, that's a Steve Bannonism too, but what our enemies lack in ethics and care they make up for in cold hard strategy, so why not steal it from them?

(Part of my thinking is George Lakoff, too. Smart dude. Decent one, too. Check him out.)

Flood the zone with truth. Flood the zone with defiance -- it's our country too! Flood the zone with hope.

And not just once, but many times, because we can never know in advance the one time that'll put us over the top. Also because like almost any serious endeavor, resistance takes practice. As we practice, we get habituated to the practice and we get stronger and better at the practice!

I can attest to this myself. I spent most of my adult life pretty lousy at civic engagement (never mind resistance), if I'm honest. I voted routinely, but that was about it. I started switching it up in 2011 (I'm a Sconnie and Scott Walker sure did happen), though -- protests, donations, working the polls, union membership and then service, contacting my legislators, more protests, campaign work, some other stuff.

And now a lot of the above list is plain old routine, for me? It's ordinary as weather. It's just part of how I live my life. I bet civic engagement, including in the form of resistance, can become that way for you, too.

I believe a fair few of us can step onto the same road I've been on if we redirect some of our existing efforts -- because doomscrolling is an effort, venting is an effort, doomsaying and amplifying doomsayers is an effort. Let me gently suggest:

Instead of doomscrolling or ruminating: meditation, spiritual or religious practice if you have one, exercise if it's available to you, reading books or fanfic, doing puzzles or brainteasers (I have developed such a Squaredle habit).

If you can't scratch the doomscroll itch unless you're looking at something political, try Mariame Kaba or Rebecca Solnit or even Ezra Klein. If the problem is the doomscroll finding you, filters and blocks and getting away from algorithm-personalized platforms can likely help, and that last is a good idea all by itself.

Instead of venting to social media or into the void: vent at elected officials! You don't have to start with phone calls, or do them at all (I rarely do) -- remember, we're flooding the zone, and the zone's pretty big. Email or Resistbot or postcards are totally fine. More fun in groups -- postcard with friends!

If you can, try to angle your conversational contributions online and off-, including what you reblog/retoot/boost, away from venting and toward action and hope. This doesn't have to be because you're actually feeling hope -- it absolutely can be (and for me often is) a conscious strategy to develop fellow travelers and discipline my own mind and hands.

Instead of doomsaying, express hope and love and solidarity. Again, you don't always have to feel it -- it's a conscious organizing strategy, get me? If it helps you feel more hope and more solidarity yourself, and it may (especially as others respond to it), that's a grateful bonus.

Or consider a swear-jar strategy. Catch yourself doomsaying? Make a donation or email a legislator or whatever -- just decide on a useful action you'll take when you slip up, and hold yourself to it. Every time.

It's not hard to find people who say that all the above is performative, it's not action, it's not effective, ka-blah-ka-blah-ka-blah. I say that we damned well don't know that and that lots of small efforts from lots of people is totally how zones get flooded.

I also say that everyone starts somewhere, and that the zone ain't gonna flood itself.

Redirect even a little effort to flood the zone with me, please? Thank you. And my love to you and to all of us in these times.

[capricornlevi]

Gojo with his s/o who went missing for MONTHS, but comes backs somehow?

(Bonus: he thought that s/o was dead ;-;)

ten years previously

"Promise me you won't be too mad when I die."

Satoru furrows his brow when he hears you, tilting his head to the side to look at you funny.

You're both sprawled out on the grass, lying flat on your backs and gazing at the blue skies shining over Jujutsu Tech. Outside the school grounds, mountains line the perimeter like battlements, but you don't feel locked away. You feel at peace with everything: your choices, your circumstances, the company you've kept. The warm summer air wraps around you like an embrace.

What once seemed so alien to you, so frightening, is now your reality. It doesn't scare you as much anymore.

You're shoulder-to-shoulder with Satoru, laying about on the soft grass, not caring if your uniform gets wrinkled as you roll over to your side, propping your head against your elbow and meeting his gaze.

You've both ditched Yaga's class to hang out in the training field, and the sounds of the second-years laughing from the nearby dorms are the only noises you can hear apart from the distant chirping of birds.

That is, until Satoru objects indignantly:

"What are you talking about?"

You smile, not wanting to spoil the otherwise peaceful day. You hadn't brought it up to be negative, but it had to be said; if you don't do it now, you'll never get the courage to do so.

"You know what I mean. You are my best friend in the entire world, and you know that I am not going to last as long out there as you will -- on missions, fighting."

Somewhat irritated, Satoru reaches a hand up to flick you on the nose. You swat him away, laughing, which makes him crack a smile.

"Our last day before graduation, and you want to focus on this morbid shit?" he asks, his tone light and jokey but with an undertone of seriousness that only you ever recognise.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm not planning on giving up," you elaborate, distractedly picking a nearby daisy. You don't touch the petals, twirling it by its stem so that it spins in your fingers. "I'll give it my all for as long as I can, but I'm just saying ... don't expect me to be fighting by your side when you're one of the ninety-year-old elders."

"If I turn out like them, then I'll need you around so you can shoot me."

You make a sound that's half-scoff, half-laugh. "I'm being serious."

"So am I," he says, eyes fixed on yours. "Completely serious. You've excelled at every test. We couldn't have won the goodwill event without you. You've completed dozens of missions by now, missions that even I found tricky. What's bringing this on now?"

You shrug, still peering down at the flower in between your thumb and index finger. "Just a feeling, I guess."

"A feeling?"

You hum in the affirmative, and Satoru sighs.

"Want to know my reply, then?" he retorts, still quite serious.

Your head snaps back up at that.

Satoru sits up, cross-legged, scanning your face as though he's committing it to memory. Then, he carefully plucks the daisy from your hand and tucks it behind your ear.

"If you die, I'll be well and truly pissed."

---

The only part of that mission that Satoru really, truly recollects, the only crystal-clear memory in an otherwise blurry mess, was the feeling of Yaga's hand on his shoulder when he arrived at the gates of Jujutsu Tech.

Alone. He arrived back alone, for the first time ever. Three years after graduation and he'd never even had a close call, much less return in this state, and without you.

The whole experience felt so strange, for lack of better word. It felt like it was happening to someone else.

He had explained what had happened, the words leaving his mouth without much thought on his part. His voice sounded cold, detached, unrecognisable.

"And it took her," is how he finished speaking, he's pretty sure. Again, the details are hazy. He doesn't think that he bothered telling Yaga that he tried everything he could out there. That he pushed himself until he nearly broke. That he tried, at the end, to put himself in the curse's reach, to step into harm's way if it meant you got even five minutes more in this world.

Yaga already knows all that.

Thankfully, his former teacher doesn't waste time with empty words of condolence. He just rests a hand on Satoru's shoulder, the gesture doing more than any speech could.

It's not enough, though. Nothing ever would be.

---

Satoru prides himself on compartmentalisation. He has to do it to survive, he'll drown otherwise, and luckily, he's quite good at it. When Yuji asks him if he's ever lost someone to a curse, eyes wide with concern, he's able to wave off the boy's worries. He says yes, sadly, he's lost people, but that it's part of life, and that the only way to deal with it is to get stronger.

He doesn't sugarcoat it, but Yuji wasn't expecting him to. The boy just nods and continues his training. Satoru, meanwhile, resumes his meandering around the classroom, whistling along to some song that's been stuck in his head.

The only person you can control is yourself. Everything else just ... happens.

That's the closest thing he has to a personal philosophy, and it's a pretty foolproof one, having gotten him through some of the bleakest, emptiest years of his life.

He's done well for himself, considering. He's not as brash and impulsive as he was when he was younger. He's dedicated his life to preparing young sorcerers for the world out there, trying to keep them safe as long as he can. He lives a comfortable life and keeps himself entertained but focused, constantly motivated to keep moving forward.

Truthfully, the only time his worldview comes close to being threatened is when he sees a patch of daisies growing in the grass.

Whether out walking through the school grounds, or on a mission in the countryside, or on a faculty trip to the botanic gardens in the city, he's struck by them every so often. He tries to avert his eyes when he glimpses the tell-tale flash of yellow and white petals, but it's no use.

He doesn't break down. He doesn't even cry, not since that first night. He just feels the sensation creep up his chest, gripping his throat like a vice. It burns, sometimes, like someone's actually there choking him. When he breathes, it's more like a gasp for air.

That's why he's built that philosophy, see, because those moments, those flashes of emotion, are more painful than anything he's felt in his life. If that's even one percent of what the feeling must be like in its entirety, then it's best kept buried. To unleash it is to unravel, to be at the mercy of the world.

And the only thing he can control is himself.

---

This is the final night of a five-day-long exchange trip to Kyoto, and the students have earned some rest time. Satoru doesn't object to the girl's request, letting her leave to explore the souvenir store while Yuji and Megumi pick up their crepes from some touristy café down the street.

present day

"Gojo-sensei, can I pick up something from that store before we head back?" Nobara asks, lifting her hand to shield her eyes from the sun. "I won't be long."

Satoru hangs around as people mill past, hands in his pockets. The air is thick with heat and the smell of baked goods from nearby bakeries. Though it's well into the evening hours, the sun shows no sign of setting.

With nothing better to do, he resigns himself to people-watching. The fact that he's a head or so taller than most passers-by means he sees everything.

He spots an ageing businessman scolding his teenage son, gesturing furiously at a folded piece of paper -- a school report, maybe -- as the boy looks down at his feet while walking alongside him.

An elderly couple walking hand-in-hand.

Two friends bickering over summer holiday plans.

A group of ten or so tourists, trailing hopelessly behind their guide who is striding along the thoroughfare without looking back.

But then, suddenly, all the faces in the crowd blur into obscurity.

Noises cut off instantaneously.

He hears nothing, feels nothing.

For a moment, Satoru swears that time pauses, everyone suspended in freeze-frame while his brain tries to catch up with what he's seeing.

Who he's seeing.

You.

You're wearing sunglasses. You're dressed differently. You're a few years older than the last time he saw you, which only adds to his hope.

Even with these changes, he knows it's you. He'd know it was you even if he were surrounded by a million other faces.

His legs move before he can process anything else.

It doesn't take him long to catch up to you. As he reaches out to touch your shoulder, understandably, you jolt with surprise at the unexpected contact. Turning around to face him, you remove your headphones and relax a little when you realise that he's not a salesperson or pickpocket.

You push your sunglasses up to rest on your forehead, smiling politely.

Satoru waits. His eyes bore into yours, waiting for that sign of recognition, that epiphany to hit you when you realise that he's finally found you.

Nothing comes.

"Can I help you?" you ask, your tone amiable, if a little confused.

Satoru blinks slowly.

"What's your name?" he asks in response, though he knows it.

You respond with that same name he's had at the tip of his tongue all these years, but never let himself speak it aloud.

He doesn't give his own, suddenly unable to say that, either.

"Where did you go to school?" he queries finally, almost pleadingly.

Even more puzzled, you still try to maintain that aura of politeness. "In Tokyo. Why?" You hesitate, and he's just about to let himself breathe again before you exclaim;

"Oh! Did we have a class together?"

Satoru feels a crushing weight settle over him. Cold, unyielding dread floods his veins.

Panic.

He isn't dead, is he?

No. This can't be the afterlife, this can't be your reunion, because he can't imagine that a supposed paradise would be so cruel as to make you a stranger to him.

You, on the other hand, interpret his silence as answering your question.

"I'm so sorry, that's so rude of me!" you apologise, grimacing with embarrassment. "I really don't remember much from back then, I promise. I'm terrible with names. I'm sure you were lovely!"

Only then does Satoru notice something else: the change to your cursed energy, the way it barely registers as anything at all. It hangs over you like a rainy mist, grey and lifeless, completely different to the bright effervescence that used to follow you everywhere.

He realises a thousand things at once.

That curse, that creature that took you, didn't kill you. He's heard of this only a few times before, but what you encountered was a parasitic spirit, one that sustains its pathetic existence through the cursed energy of powerful sorcerers. They do this because of the potency of a sorcerer's energy, like an untapped well, particularly from someone as high-ranking as you were.

To achieve this, it has placed some amnesiac over you to stifle your abilities to fight back.

That ... thing, that spirit, that parasite, likely returns every so often to feed, and with it goes all memories of your life beforehand.

Satoru's first feeling upon this realisation is guilt. A strange feeling, but one he can't deny, because even though he understands what happened to you, you're none the wiser.

You're still standing there, groceries in hand, as the warm summer breeze washes over you both.

You're waiting for him to speak.

He doesn't. He can't.

"Well, it was lovely meeting you again!" you pipe up cordially, pushing your sunglasses back into place with a flick of your finger. You turn around and call out over your shoulder, "I'm sure I'll see you around!"

Satoru stays there, frozen, and makes a decision there and then.

A new philosophy. A new promise.

He is going to do whatever he can to give you back your life.

You can do whatever you want with it -- maybe you won't forgive him for not saving you, maybe you'll carry on with this existence in Kyoto, maybe you'll go back to sorcery and pretend this never happened.

But it's your choice. The least he can do is ensure you get the chance the make it.

---

"You know it doesn't always work out the way you want it to," Shoko says with more sympathy than he's ever heard from her before. She stands with her back to the stone wall, looking at him sadly. The school buildings loom behind them both, everyone inside asleep. It's so quiet out here that it feels almost unnatural, foreboding.

Satoru has spent months working on this mission, forsaking all other tasks in preparation to exorcise this curse that's robbed you of so much. Tonight, with hours before he leaves for Kyoto, he is asking Shoko his only remaining question.

He's already worked out when the spirit is likely to return to feed. He's figured out a plan to kill it. He is even certain that he can do all of this while keeping you out of further harm's way.

There's really only one question that he has left for his friend, and that is what might happen afterwards.

She's never seen something like this before, she warned him, only ever heard about it from others. It's all word of mouth, no medical texts or written histories. And it's most definitely not a given that all of your memories will return. You'll be lucky if you regain any of the cursed energy you've lost.

That's enough, he figures, to give you a fighting chance. If he was in this position, he'd want the same to be done for him.

"I know," he finally answers Shoko, watching as she exhales from her cigarette into the dark night air. "But it's not just about what I want."

"You can live with it?" she asks with a quiet concern. "With being a stranger, maybe forever?"

He doesn't have to think over his reply.

"I can live with it."

Shoko nods. She puts out her cigarette against the wall, flicks it away, and they head back inside.

---

As strong as he knows he is, Satoru is surprised yet again by the strength of that spirit, how desperately it wants to keep draining life from others.

It's a messy fight. The creature recognises him, almost gleeful at his arrival. It glances up at your apartment overhead, with you sleeping inside, completely unaware of their presence on the street below. Then, the curse looks back at Satoru with a grin that fills him with a fury that burns a hole in his chest.

He is filled with a sensation that feels alien to him, completely unfamiliar, an all-encompassing feeling that he can't attempt to put into words.

As he strikes the curse over and over and over, watching as the hits land, watching it get gravely wounded, none of it does anything to alleviate that feeling.

He kills it, eventually. It dies somewhat pitifully in a puddle of its own cursed energy, spitting out angry hisses until it grows quiet.

Nothing changes then. Satoru feels no shift in the air, no disturbance. He's shielded from civilians so he expected a degree of quietness, but he hears nothing, absolutely nothing, not even the rain falling around him.

Everything else is still.

He feels exhausted in every way. Physically, emotionally, he's spent, having unleashed not only his rage on that spirit, but every iota of pain and fear he's been slowly amassing since their first encounter, since it tore you away and left him untethered.

That feeling is not gone, though. He's not sure it ever will be. But he's identified it, and somehow, that does something to soothe him.

Then, the quietness is interrupted by the sound of a window opening a few floors above.

He glances up in time to see you shout down at him.

"Satoru!"

He closes his eyes. The sound of his own name pours down on him like sunlight.

He feels it all; the recognition in your voice, the relief.

By the time he opens his eyes again, you're down on the street in your pyjamas and slippers, throwing yourself into his arms.

He wraps them around you as tight as he can without causing you any pain, lifting you up and keeping you so close to his chest that you can hear his heart beating.

He can feel your tears seep into the fabric of his shirt and rests a hand on the back of your head, desperate to carry out any gesture to bring you comfort.

You kiss him, then. You kiss his lips, his face, his neck, you cup his face in your hands and feel him lean into the touch.

Eventually, after a perfect eternity in this embrace, you pull apart.

"Were you pissed?" you ask, laughing as you say the words, tear lines still streaking your face but your eyes bright and full of life. "Back then, you said you would be."

"Yes, but not at you," he answers with a smile, and that makes you cry again, good tears, proud tears.

It will take a while for things to get back to normal, he knows that. There's still a lot he can't control. But if he hadn't tried, if he had given up and surrendered to circumstance, you wouldn't be here in front of him, smiling, glowing, looking up at him with beautiful recognition.

That's enough for a new philosophy.

[jensthwa]

mountebank chem: epilogue (JYH x reader).

part of the love's an uncharted path universe ★.

SUMMARY:

* 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤: 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐲. The first time you met Yunho, you knew he was going to be part of the biggest tragedy of your life: the loss of your freedom, of your free will. You didn't know why back then but what you did figure out is that you and Jeong Yunho were going to, eventually and very publicly, date each other at some point. Is that reason enough to hate his guts? Well, of course! Now, when the time comes to fulfill the prophecy, how the hell are you going to pull it off? And, most importantly, what do you need to do to not fall in love with him in the process?

PAIRING: rich!yunho x afab!rich!reader.

GENRE: enemies to friends to lovers.

WORD COUNT: 7.08k

WARNINGS & TAGS: attempt !!! at comedy, dual pov (both yunho's and reader's), use of fem pronouns for reader, the morning after and the day after that. reader and yunho are very in love is lowkey kind of gross everyone, kissing, fluff, dream-talk, yeosang talk too! a little bit of angst if you squint, decision making and finally standing up for yourself is hard and reader is doing their best, soohyun being a good brother and making reader cry, gyuri being a little shit, wooyoung being a little shit, seonghwa being a good friend, happy endings let's goooo.

NOTES: hi everyone! here's the epilogue i promised! like i've said in a few asks that i've gotten, there's a little bit of the next story here, just something so you all have context of it before going in. i don't know when that one is going to be up (i'm not really far along with it) but either way i want to thank all of you for the patience and the wait! i really loved writing mbc:'). this is 100% self indulgent, as all fics should be, and i think i've re-read it so many times that if you find a typo or something that just doesn't make sense, you can blame it on english not being my first language i guess lmao. i hope you enjoy it and if you do feel free to send to my askbox/reblog/type in any feedback or thoughts! <3

POSTED: february 20th 2025.

taglist: @kyunlov, @tinyelfperson, @0115degrees, @daniela-f-uwu, @ultrapinkvoidbouquet, @kyeomooniee, @fairylover68, @sushiinmidnight, @qveenbunni, @calmoistorm, @potatomountain, @svintsandghosts, @lemonkait00, @blue5ummer, @fancypeacepersona, @hyukssunflower, @i-love-ateez, @alsomimi, @e3ellie, @st3ft0n3s, @hotteokkay, @xylatox, @honeybeehorizon, @hwallazia, @mady-66.

masterlist - part one - part two. part three. part four.

When Yunho wakes up, rested and naked, the room is dark. 

He turns to the side and the curtains are, of course, down but the thing is that he doesn’t remember closing them the night before. 

When he turns to where you’re supposed to be, the bed is made on your side and you’re not there. 

Strangely enough, he doesn’t panic. He is sure of what you both have, he trusts you enough to know you didn’t run away from him, from you two, again. 

Also, he can smell a mix of coffee and the turpentine-like smell of paint as he gets dressed with his boxers and the slacks he was wearing the night before after picking them up off the floor and going to the bathroom to wash his face. 

He pokes his face out to the living space and there’s a make-shift tarp on the floor, the furniture is moved around to make space for you and an easel. You’re sitting down on a wooden stool, painting away and he wonders if he just missed that last night or if he genuinely just passed out and didn't notice this much change. 

He clears his throat “Good morning, princess.” 

You jump a little, turning your head to look at him and there’s paint on your face and your hand when you wave at him. 

“Hi, Jeong.” 

“Seriously?” 

“What?” 

He chuckles “No cute nickname? Just Jeong?” 

“Well, that is your name, isn’t it?” You turn back and he catches that you’re pretending to focus on your painting, but you’re repassing the same painstrokes as before. 

“We’re going to have to work on it,” he lets out a sigh that turns into a yawn. “Sorry that I slept in on you. What time is it?” 

“Around three.” 

“In the afternoon?!” Yunho looks around for his phone but he locates the clock in the wall first and he confirms your words. “Princess, why didn’t you wake me up? We could’ve spent the day together…” 

“I rather you rest,” you shrug and he takes a few steps until he’s behind you, his hands immediately reaching out to touch you. He can’t help it, he wants to physically fuse into you but he compromises with nature and just massages your shoulders. “You have sectionals in two weeks, right?” 

He frowns at the reminder, a tiny smile on his lips a second later. 

“How do you know that?”

You stop the brush on the canvas and then look at him again, eyelashes batting with fake innocence. 

“I kind of bribed my assistant so she could bribe yours and now your general schedule is on my phone…” 

He fakes a gasp and he marvels in the pout he gets in return. 

“I needed to know when you were leaving the dorm this week!” 

“So you could drop the gift?” 

“Mhm,” you say, puckering your lips to ask for a kiss. He pretends to go for it and he truly pats his back for having a little of self-restraint when he dodges you to pretend he just thought about something. 

“Oh! That reminds me…” 

You huff in annoyance and interrupt whatever he’s about to say. 

“How did you know my room number and who let you in?” 

“I paid the receptionist and showed him proof that we were together,” he explains like it’s nothing and you huff again, amused this time. “Told him I wanted to surprise you.” 

“That’s so irresponsible.” 

Yunho reaches the box he left on the coffee table last night, opens it and pulls the polaroids out. 

“You dropped this off without any explanation! What are these?” 

When he turns around, you’re already painting again and he gets a five second look in his direction before you return your attention to your art. 

“Oh.” there’s a smile on your lips Yunho loves, although he’s not sure if it’s because you’re doing what you love or if you got reminded of something. “I was hoping you asked me about it. I, um, stayed at a resort during New Years, in Gangwondo.”

“Is this the first time we spent Chrismtas and New Years away from each other?” 

“Not the first time,” you muse and then shrug, “but definitely the first time in a long time, huh?” 

“I didn't like it.” 

“Why?” You look at him again and he sits on his knees on the couch like a neglected child, looking your way. You seem to find it endearing, because you laugh. “Because you didn't have anyone to kick under the table this year?” 

“That has never happened.” 

“Liar. Anyway, they have this winter festival that goes all the way until mid January and they have this… Traditional and modern fusion media dance performance that made me think of you. So I took some pictures of the dancers.” 

“So you just put them in the box because you took them while thinking of me?” 

There’s shyness painting your tone when you reply “Yeah.” 

His heart thumps happily inside his chest and he gets off the couch. 

“I love you.” 

You laugh again “I love you too, Yunho,” and, as you shake your head a little, you look in the kitchenette direction with your lips pointed at it. “I ordered some breakfast that you can heat up or you can give me… Twenty minutes and I can change and we can—” 

Yunho revels in the squeak of surprise you let out when he closes the distance, leans in and catches your lips in a short but firm kiss. 

“We can stay in all day if you want to.” He says and you kiss his lips one more time. 

“Okay,” you seem happy to have that option so he sees the moment you make the decision to not push going out at all. “There’s some clothes for you in the walk-in closet. I ordered them when I ordered all of this,” you point at the mess on the tarp and the floor, “I figured you might need them.”

“Thank you, my love.” He whispers and he pecks your lips before reaching for your nearly empty coffee cup. 

“There’s also one for you in the—” 

“I want this one,” he says, a sly smile on his lips and one of his hands returns to your shoulders to massage them. 

He takes a look at the canvas for once and he notices that, what he thought was a solid background color and some structure, has actually started to look like the view in front of you both, with the Namsan Tower in the back. 

“What about the CD?” 

“Hm?”

“Your gift,” he reminds you, “there’s also a CD.” 

“A mixtape, with songs that make me think of us.”

Yunho blows some air and he doesn’t have to look down to see you’re frowning at the sound “You’re a romantic.” 

“Do you want to die?” 

He laughs but doesn’t address the threat at all. Instead, the focus is on your art “The painting of us and the kids is beautiful,” he can feel your skin under his palm heat up at the compliment and it makes him smile. “This one is too.” 

“It all just flows so much smoothly when I don’t have to think about work or being home,” you admit, your body relaxing into his when he takes a sip of the cup and brings it around for you to do the same. “I want to stay here, with you, forever.” 

“And we can,” he murmurs into your head, leaving a kiss on your temple a second later. “If that’s what you want.” 

“I want to move out,” you say, your tone full of wishfulness and Yunho takes in a breath at what that could mean for you, “I want to quit my job.” 

“And what do you want to do for work, then?” He asks, already supporting the decision. “You want to paint?” 

You shake your head, looking up at him, a wishful glint in your eye “I want to be an art teacher.” 

“Oh?” 

“Do you want to work for your father?” 

“Not in a million years, I— Princess, don’t get mad for what I’m about to tell you, okay?”

You turn in the stool, looking up at him with an inquisitorial brow until he crouches down on the floor to meet your eye. 

“My plan has always been to pretend to work and go along with him until I graduate college. Then, I want to move away. I want to… I don’t know, get disowned?” 

Eyes widening, you take in a sharp breath and then cough into your hand. 

He offers you the cup so you can take the final sip out of it. 

“It’s part of why I went along with the PR relationship in the first place.” 

You nod and he gulps, staring as you get lost in thought for a second. 

“Why would I be mad?” 

“Because I sort of planned to use you?” 

“Not really, though. You wanted to use the relationship they threw us into?” 

“Yeah.” 

“That’s understandable, then. I… I understand.” This time, you’re the one gulping and he opens his mouth to say something but you beat him to it. “I, um, I’m not sure if I actually can go against my parents wishes and never see my brother again, Yun.” 

He shakes his head. “If you think for a second that Soohyun is going to give a fuck about your parents feelings, you’re wrong. I… Me and Gunho are not as close as I want us to be, you know? But we talk about things.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Sometimes,” his laugh lasts a few seconds only and then he clears his throat. “If there’s something I'm sure of, princess, is that your brother loves you with all his heart. If you want to step away from the family business, from your parents, he… He’ll understand.” 

You nod again. 

“And I’m not saying any of this because I want you to do the same things I want to do but I—” 

You interrupt him “What do you want to do?” 

“Huh?”

“Do you want to work as an engineer?” 

“Yes,” he breathes out and you smile, “but I also want to dance. Have an academy, maybe, but I need money and experience and a name.” 

“You already have a name.” 

“I need to make a name for myself, princess,” he explains and you nod like you already knew, because you probably did. “Get a stage name, maybe.” 

“Ha!” you laugh and he raises his eyebrows, amused by your reaction. “Maybe… Yunho the rakehell? Yunho… Oh! Yunho the bitchl—” 

“Stop that!” 

It seems like that joke is never to die down and he’s glad, he’s glad that he doesn’t take genuine offense in it anymore and he’s glad it makes you laugh in a way he wants to record and play on repeat forever. 

Grabbing his face, your thumbs brush against his cheeks and he can swear he has never felt so at ease until now. This, waking up and going out of the room to find you doing what you love. You, looking at him with some much love, it's hard to believe it took you both so long to leave your pride behind and work it out. 

“You are worth it, Yunho,” you whisper and he knows right away you’re referring to the fight you both had at the office, “and I have no idea how we’re going to make it, but we are. Of that I’m sure, my love. I trust you,” you brush his hair back and off his forehead, “I trust us.” 

He holds your face as well, the pad of his finger passing over the dry paint on your cheek.

“I trust us, too.” 

Before he can react, you’re smooching his lips again and he melts into the encounter, the passion of last night bleeding into his movements once again and painting him red when he gets on his knees and pulls you into his lap in a smooth motion. You yelp and laugh and then you moan into his mouth when his hands find your ass and his fingers dig into it through the jeans you’re wearing. 

Huh. 

You’re wearing jeans. 

They look so natural and good on you that he didn’t even notice it’s the first time he seeing you in jeans. 

“Again?” You ask, already winded and clinging onto him for dear life in a way that makes him laugh. He pulls back and finds you shyly smiling at him but it doesn’t really help your care that he can see right through the act. 

“Can you blame me?” 

“Yes, actually.” 

“Y/N…” 

“It was a joke,” you grab his shoulders to shake him to no avail and then before getting up you lean in to kiss his cheek in a manner so sweet that makes him all giddy, like a fool in love. Maybe because that’s what he is. “Take a shower.” 

“Take it with me.” He says, without thinking about it but one hundred percent meaning it. 

“I already showered.” 

He makes sure to scrunch his nose and make a funny face “Did you really?” 

It’s not really a surprise when you turn around from your painting and swipe your brush across his mouth. 

“I smell amazing and you smell like shit. Go and shower, Jeong.” 

He enjoys ticking you off a bit too much. Either way he laughs, the taste of paint on his tongue when he does and, when he gets up and goes to the bathroom, he hears the soft sound of your giggle and his heart feels full.  

And then you get him back like ten minutes later, by turning off the light in the bathroom and almost giving him a heart attack at the sudden loss of it. He breathes out an exaggerated sigh and, when you turn them back on, he turns around and watches you through the glass divider. 

Unfortunately for you, the glass is frosted from his chest down, but you lean against the marble counter and eye him suggestively nonetheless. He continues with his shower as if this is the most normal scenario ever for the two of you. 

It feels like it, anyway. 

“Can I help you, princess?” 

“Tomorrow I’ll go home,” you start, not a question or a request, but a fact. “I’ll go home and I'm going to sit with them all at dinner and let them hear what I’m going to do from now on. They don’t need to know that I’m going to take classes—” 

“You are?” 

Humming, you nod once and then twice after a second of looking at the floor, determination in your stare when you look up at him again. “I’m going to get a bachelor’s in art education, maybe just art first. It’ll take time but…” You shrug. 

“But you’ll be doing what makes you happy.” He finishes for you. 

“Yeah,” you return softly, “and I'll be detached from my family’s hip eventually.” 

“One will argue,” he says, closing his eyes to avoid shampoo to get into them, “that you’re already pretty independent.” 

“While doing my work and my brother’s work, sure,” you smile, “but not when it comes to living on my own.” 

An idea crosses his mind and colors his cheeks, so he hums “You’ll be lonely.” 

“I already feel that way at home… But I do love the idea of having a space all for myself.” 

He hums again and then wipes the water from his eyes to send you a look. 

“How much do you love it?” 

“Jeong,” you say, laughing when you finally get what he’s suggesting, “we’re not moving in together.” 

He pouts. 

“Yet.” 

He smiles at you again. 

“Besides,” turning around, you let out a tired sigh when you catch the paint on your face and then you open the faucet to clean it off, “then Yeosang would miss you too much and he’ll blame me. I don’t want your friend to hate me.”

“He would never—” 

You don’t let him dismantle your excuses “What is he up to with that documentary, anyway?” 

He closes the shower and reaches for a towel the next second, not even bothering fully covering himself up when he gets out and you send him a look through the mirror, one he can’t decide if it’s in reproach or if it’s charged with something else. Probably both. 

But he plays coy and tries his best to answer your question as he secures the towel around his hips. 

“He’s doing this documentary about dance, he’s been working on it for a while. Obviously I’m the star of it,” he watches you roll your eyes and he bumps your arm with his in retaliation. “But my co-stars are taking all of his attention now. It’s kind of annoying.” 

“And he finds them— your co-stars I mean,” your eyes roll again, “at the club?” 

Yunho barely helps the laugh that spills out of his lips.

“No, um, that’s a completely different story. He keeps saying that he needs to film this one girl for the documentary but we all stopped believing him when he almost got beat up for filming her,” he explains, his hands brushing his wet hair back, “and he went back to do it again anyway.” 

Your hip connects to the countertop again, your back to the mirror “So he’s in love?” 

“I don’t think so. I think he’s… Intrigued.” 

“Is she an exotic dancer or something?” 

“What?” 

“What?” you return, shrugging, “nothing wrong with stripping for a living.”

“I know, that’s not what I meant—” 

“Do you have something against strippers, Yunho?” Your eyes narrow at him. 

“N-no, of course I—”

“Oh, you don’t?”

“Princess…” He breathes out another laugh, a nervous chuckle this time. “Stop teasing me.” 

Your frown slowly breaks into a smile and he shakes his head in disbelief. 

“But you look so cute when you’re flustered!”

He stops messing with his hair to grab your hips and make sure you have nowhere to go, trapped between his body and the cold marble behind you. 

“I’m not cute,” he says, low, almost in a whisper, “and I showered.” 

“Yunho… Are you not hungry at all? You have to eat something.” 

He wants to laugh again but he stops himself, his hands roaming your front and slipping to your legs when he kneels a little “Hm, I’m starving.” 

Gasping when he kisses your middle through your shirt, you push him away with feign distress written all over your expression. 

“Jeong!” 

He gets back up again “What?” 

“Are you going to be this much of a troublemaker when we live together? I have things to do!” 

He stops, his hands holding your hips still and then you gasp again when he tugs and presses you against his body. 

“You said when.” 

You gulp “I know what I said.” 

“You’re making plans for the future and I’m in them.” 

“Well,” you titter with a nervous glint in your eye, but your chin is up the next second, “you know what? Yeah. Yes, I am, because I love—” 

He presses his lips against yours before you finish your sentence and when he pulls away you push on his chest again. 

“Annoying.” You say but you don’t mean it and he laughs, his arms going around you before you melt into his embrace fully. 

“Do you want me to go with you?” 

“Tomorrow?” 

“Mhm.” 

You think about it, he can feel you thinking as he rocks you both from side to side “No,” you finally say, in a whisper and then your next words come out firmer. “No, I need to do this on my own. I would love to see you later tomorrow night, though.” 

“Hm, I have practice and then I promised to help Gyuri move in with Wooyoung but I can tell them that I’m in love and busy.” 

“No, no,” you pull back, smiling a little, “Can I… I mean, I can help.”

He smiles as well “You want to?” 

You nod. 

“She has a bunch of shit but San is moving most of the stuff because, partially, it’s his fault she has to move, so.” 

“Hm, how so?”

“Gyuri and his girlfriend live together, for years now, and now they want to move in with each other so Gyuri is forced to live with the embodiment of mischief while she finds an apartment she can afford.” 

You laugh “I don’t think it bothers her that much.” 

“Why?” He frowns and, at his question, you give him an incredulous look. “Why?” 

“Baby, oh my God.” 

He lets you go and you push him away fully, getting out of the bathroom. 

“Do you know something I don’t?” 

“Figure it out, dummy!” 

He’s truly, genuinely and utterly confused, but the smile on his face hardly goes down as he watches you sit down in front of your painting again, from the bathroom door’s threshold. 

And his heart aches for the pain you’re probably going to endure the next day. 

When you enter the code to your front door, bag in hand, it’s almost lunch time. You didn’t let them know you’ll be returning today but you’re sure the way your suitcase falls at the dining room’s entrance is enough to alert them. Soohyun jumps a little, your mother lets out a scream and your father looks up from his phone slowly, gives you a look, and then looks back down. 

“Oh, great, you’re back. Y/N, next time would you please let me know when you’re showing up so I can schedule your appointments accordingly— Kim Y/N!” 

Your mother's scandalized scream is not what surprises you. What surprises you is the hug Soohyun gets up to give you, a tight squeeze that you smile into and then make a face at when he pulls away. 

“You look beautiful,” he whispers to just you. “Don’t let her tell you otherwise.” 

Nodding, you finally face your mother whose jaw is almost hitting the floor by now. Your father, as usual, is unbothered and tapping his fingers against the glass of the table, impatiently waiting for his food. 

“Why do you mutilate yourself like this? And without notifying your team, nonetheless! We’ll have to… Get you some hair extensions for the shoot that you have—”

“No.”

She pauses, her jaw ticking and her eyebrow raising in warning. A few months ago, the mere thought of upsetting her would’ve sent you into a panic attack. Now, you stand your ground and curve your lips with pride, lift your chin up with courage and hold the handle of your suitcase a little tighter because you need it, because your hands tremble a little. 

“Excuse me?” 

“I said no,” you repeat yourself and your tone gains you your father's attention. “I’m sure the public can survive a haircut, mom. Can you?” 

“Kim Y/N do not talk to me like that!” 

She steps your way and your brother steps a side, giving you a wide eyed look that can only mean a here she goes again and you purse your lips to stop yourself from nervously laughing at it. 

“You cut your hair, you leave for three months and come back all… All chubby,” oh, my god, “and you dare to speak to me that way?!” 

The mention of your weight does send a little panic cruising through you. It has your father huffing from his seat and your brother snapping his head rapidly in your mother’s direction, a frown creasing his eyebrows and you can tell he’s about to say something but you stop him with a shake of your head.

And then you laugh. 

You taste something bitter in your mouth and you can see the exact moment she notices her words are not affecting you the way they usually do. 

“I think it’s time I move out,” you start, with a tiny, sardonic smile on your lips, “and I also think it is also time you think about the way you speak to me, mother. And I think you,” you turn to your father, “need to think about all the times you allowed her to talk to me that way.”

Your dad looks up, raises his eyebrows, hums and then looks back down again. 

“Sure thing.” He says. 

“What is happening right now?” your mother asks, a nervous chuckle coming out of her and after that she moves her hand, dismissing your point and turning to go to her seat again. “You’re talking nonsense. Go upstairs and wash. You’re obviously not having dinner, I hope.” 

She’s always doing it on purpose, bringing you down like that on purpose, but right now? Right now she craves vengeance. You notice it in the way she looks for your reaction when she looks up. 

“I am having dinner. Not here, not with you, not anymore.” 

Your mother sighs, rubs her forehead with her thumb and her index “Kim Y/N, I beg, stop terrorizing me and—” 

“She’s moving in with me.” 

You turn to Soohyun, he gives you a look to signal you to follow his lead. 

“She’s a little bit too grown up and independent to live under your roof still, mom. Dad?” He asks and your father looks up. “Don’t you agree?” 

“Well,” your father cleans his throat, his back hitting the back of his chair as he thinks it over, “she is capable of being on her own. Besides, her room can make a wonderful office for you, dear.” 

“Her room is staying hers because she’s not going anywhere!” Your mom stands up again, voice dark and tone painted over with something you’ve never even heard before. Not coming from her, at least: Fear. “Why do you suddenly want to move out? Is there…” She closes her mouth and then gulps, breathing out a laugh the next second. “Are you running away with someone, Y/N? Is that it? Did you fall in love on your little trip? You’re promised to someone!” 

“Promised? I am not promised because we’re in the twenty-first century, mom!” 

“To Yunho, Y/N! Don’t be stupid and tell your little fling to get lost!”

“Mom…” Soohyun warns but she laughs again, indignant. 

“What? She knows this already. How would the Jeong’s feel if—” 

“I don’t care what they feel!” 

Your voice resonates in the room, it shuts everyone up, it makes your mom take a step back and your father blocks his phone, finally interested in what’s going on. 

“I am with Yunho.” 

Your mother smiles a second too late at what you said and opens her mouth, but you interrupt whatever nonsense she’s about to spew out. 

“I am with him but not because you or his mother planned it. I’m not trying to fullfill your little fucked up fantasy—” 

“Y/N!” She gasps at the cursing but you continue nonetheless. 

“I am with him because I love him. I love him and he loves me and we are together because, against all odds, we ended up bonding and finding comfort and solace in each other. We made the choice, we did,” you insist on it, to let her know that it doesn’t matter if you two being together is exactly what she wanted, the final say is on you and Yunho alone. “I have something you two could never have and that’s companionship and true understanding that’s not rutted in power or in money. He… He made me realize we’re so much more than this.” You move your hands in the space between you and the rest of the room and your father hums a bitter sound in return.

“This,” your father gets up from his seat, hands going in the pockets of his dress pants and eyebrows raised with a sardonic edge to them that pisses you off, “is your family.”

“I know and that makes it worse,” you nod and the slow anger showing in his expressions grows just a tad bit more, so you go on before anyone else can interrupt you again. “Here’s what’s going to happen from now on, dad; If you want me to, I’ll keep working at the company, but Soohyun's responsibilities are solely his from now on,”  you turn to your brother and he gives a fake pout but then he nods. “My job is simple, my job should allow me to focus on what I really want and, once I get what I really want, I'll make sure to find someone who can fit my spot so seemingly you won't even notice I'm gone.”

“I thought that what you wanted was to work for this company, Y/N.” Your father says.

“I thought so too,” you murmur back to him before shrugging, “but now I’m not so sure.” 

A bit of pregnant silence passes. The air feels thick now that you told them your terms, your plan or what you allowed them to hear of it anyways. Like you told your boyfriend, there’s no need for them to know that you want to take classes or teach. 

You’ll just do it. No need for their approval.  

But your mother still grasps at the control she had on you three months ago. She holds on to it, desperately and, if you were someone else and the situation was any different, you would probably admire the strength it takes to stay this egotistical and delusional until the end. 

She doesn’t seem to understand that her only daughter is running away from her. You’re not sure she cares, either and it hurts because, deep down, you expected to walk off with redemption on her side. 

Sometimes, there’s no redemption at all from the people who hurt you. 

And that’s also okay. 

“Are you done?” She asks, looking around. “Are you all done with this nonsense?” 

Taking in a breath, you try to tell her that what you said it’s what’s going to happen but she is not having it. 

“No,” her finger is up and you raise your eyebrow at it, which gains you a raise on hers in return. “No. You’re not looking for a replacement and no you’re not moving out. That’s insane, Kim Y/N, that’s—” 

“What’s my favorite color?” You interrupt to ask her and she stops, opening and closing her mouth while searching for an answer. “What’s my favorite sweet?” 

“You don’t have one.” 

“I do, I actually have two. What’s my favorite book? Movie? Song?” You turn to your dad this time. “What’s my favorite marketing strategy? Do you even know that one?” 

Silence. 

“You don’t know me enough to want to keep me here. I understand why you might think you do, but you don’t. Because, guess what? I’m an adult.”

Your mother opens her mouth and closes it again when you shake your head. 

And although you’re not speaking to her anymore, you keep looking at your mother straight in the eye and you’re able to catch the exact moment she realizes she lost. 

She lost. 

“I’m an adult with a paying job and savings you didn’t need to know anything about. So you either take it or leave it. Dad?” 

“You want me to decide now?” 

You let out a bitter laugh “You can do whatever you want. Just know that I’m not settling for anything else but what I told you. I can either train someone or you can fire me and I can look for a new job,” you explain, “but either way I’m out of here.” 

Your mother sighs and then mutters under her breath, but you catch it “What is everyone going to say?” 

“I don’t care,” you tell her again and at the response she looks up, startled, like she didn’t expect you to keep going. “Now, I hope you have a lovely lunchr.”

You’re positively shaking when you step into the hallway and through the front door again, with your suitcase in your hand still and no actual plan on where you want to go. Maybe back to the hotel?

Mind reeling, it finally registers the fact that your mother turned to your father and pleaded him to do something for the sake of the family's image just before you stepped foot outside of the house. It was a screech of don't let her go, do something! laced with clear selfish concern. 

You feel panic rising, closing your throat up and you feel lost, lost in what you just did, lost in what it actually means for you. 

“Hey, hey.” Soohyun catches up to you quickly, his keys in his hands, his breath jagged like he escaped your mother’s claws because that’s probably what happened. “Sell out! You needed to signal me when you wanted to leave, dumbass!” 

His eyes linger on your trembling hands when he takes the suitcase from you and you do your best to steady them. 

“You didn’t have anything to eat.” 

“I know. Where are you going?” 

“To… I don’t really know. Yunho’s dorm?” 

Soohyun laughs. 

“You have a house, you know.”

“I think I’m very much homeless right now. I’m getting trapped and probably thrown in a cell if I go back inside.” You swallow tightly as the realization washes over you. “She’s so mad.” 

“My house,” he clarifies, rolling his eyes. “I told them you’re moving in with me, didn’t I?” 

“Soohyun…” 

“I meant it,” there’s something soft in his eyes before he turns to open the main gate so you can both walk up to his car. “You can stay with me. Like you said, you’re grown and I won't have to look after you anymore.” 

“Pfft,” that brings out a genuine laugh out of you, “anymore.” 

“I remember running behind you in the garden because you couldn't keep still the second you learned how to walk!” 

You look at him with a pout as he opens the trunk, throwing your bag in it without any care in the world. 

Like an older brother would. 

If your eyes turn watery, you make sure to swallow back the emotion before he can figure out why. 

“Can I have my own room?” 

“You have a room there already,” he admits, shrugging. “I mean, I thought about you when buying the apartment. Guhno usually stays there but I’m sure he can take the couch when he comes over and— Aw, Y/N!” 

By the time he closes the trunk, you’re already crying. A little, enough for him to notice it. 

“I don’t want to hear it. Open the door.” 

“I’m so telling Yunho you cried!” 

“Leave him out of it!” You push his shoulder, quickly getting into the car when he unblocks the doors and he does the same. “He’s staying over whenever he wants, by the way.” 

Soohyun laughs, his eyes wide when he turns to you “Not a chance in hell, Kim Y/N.”

“Okay, then your boyfriend is not staying over either!” 

“I don’t have a boyfriend!” 

You muse, trying not to laugh “I’m telling Gunho oppa you’re denying your love to my face.”

Your brother lets out a sigh and then you squeak when he pulls your hair, playfully, before looking at you with the most sincere stare Kim Soohyun has probably given anyone ever. 

“I’m really proud of you, kid.” 

Pouting again, you look away and through the window as he pulls out of the curb and into the streets, the house you grew up in quickly fading into the background and your heart thumping hard against your ribs. 

“Are you crying again?” 

“Ugh,” you turn to him, tears running down your cheeks and a smile pulling at your lips, “you’re so annoying.” 

Your clothes are now in your room at Soohyun’s (and yours) apartment, in the walk-in closet. Your brother's taste is nothing short of luxurious and obnoxious and the room is decorated in a way you would never think of decorating it but he swears he has someone who can fix it for me if he wants to.

He forgets that you already know Seonghwa but it's okay, because when you show up at Gyuri’s old apartment, you make sure to find him to tell him just that. 

“I've literally told him that we both know Yunho and each other. Wasn't he the one who gave you my number?” Seonghwa asks, mouth hanging open a bit in surprise. 

“He did, yes.” 

Seonghwa huffs in amusement and you shrug a little “Well, do you want me to work in your room?” He asks after a few seconds and you smile, considering. 

“I think I’m going to do it myself, Hwa.” 

At the nickname, his smile widens and he nods. You think he’s about to say something else, however your attention drifts from your newfound friend and your eyes search for Yunho in the middle of the room, on the floor, as he takes a piece of furniture apart. 

He’s wearing a dark grey crewneck that makes him look so deliciously good you can’t barely help your staring. There’s not one ounce of shame on your body and you’re sure it shows on your face because Seonghwa laughs besides you. 

“So I didn’t paint over the tree,” he says and you frown, turning to him, “but I take you reconsidered my point anyway?” 

“Oh, shut up.” 

“It’s not going to happen,” the mockery in his tone while he tries to make an impression of you doesn’t offend you because you can see the intention behind it and it makes you laugh, roll your eyes and close your arms over your chest, like a child who just got caught. “It’s not going to happen, my ass. Look at you!” 

“So I was wrong, who cares?” 

“I do, I love being right.” 

“He does,” Wooyoung comes into view from the kitchen, a drop of sweet doing his temple and into his cheek that Seonghwa wipes away like it’s nothing. “But I can say I called it first, remember? I’m never wrong.”

“You most certainly are,” Hwa says and you laugh at the expression Wooyoung makes to his friend, offended. Seonghwa turns to you. “He’s wrong most of the time.” 

“Okay, that’s it, you’re helping me with the weird spice rack she insists on taking.” Wooyoung takes his elder arm and pulls, making you laugh and Seonghwa gasps. 

“You’ve been working on that all afternoon!”

“She installed it herself so it’s all wonky, Hwa.” 

Gyuri screams from behind a pile of clothes. You can't even see her even though you know she's standing up. “It is not wonky, Jung Wooyoung!” 

Pursing your lips so you don't laugh at her predicament, you watch as Wooyoung silently communicates to Seonghwa that the space rack is, in fact, wonky and then you jump a little when arms close around you from behind. 

“Stop complaining, Woo, you're going to have the pleasure to install it however you want later.” Yunho's voice is close to your ear and you hug the arms that hold you, melting into the embrace. 

Gyuri laughs sharply when she registers what he said and Wooyoung makes a face at your boyfriend “I hate it here.” 

“Sure you do, Wooyoung.” You nod at him, joking even though you don’t know him that well, and Seonghwa joins the tiny laugh you let out at the face Wooyoung gives you. 

“I truly did not need a new addition to the group if I was going to get bullied by them as well.” 

You fake offense, laughing a second later and Yunho swats a hand on his friend’s shoulder as he passes by you both and into the kitchen again. Seonghwa rolls his eyes before following Wooyoung into the kitchen as well. 

Yunho breathes out, his lips finding your cheek “How are you feeling?” 

Turning to him, you smile a little. You know he’s asking about what went a little earlier today. 

“I’m good, baby,” you whisper back, leaning in a little and kissing him tenderly on the lips. He reciprocates but when you pull away you can see the concern in his eyes. “I promise. I already knew how she was going to react.” 

“Me too but that doesn’t make it any less fucked up, Princess.” 

“I know,” letting out a sigh, you turn to the living room again and the corners of your lips lift at the mess. “But I’m out of the house and I’m alright now.” 

“My mom texted me to congratulate us.” 

“Oh?” You don’t turn to him again but your eyebrows raise in surprise. “Did you answer?” 

“No,” he breathes out a laugh, “but I should.”

“We can’t run from them forever, Yun,” you feel him nod against you and, finally, you turn around completely to face him. His hands find your waist, his lips curve as he watches you over and you do the same. “Also, you’re banned from my house.” 

His smile drops. 

“Huh?” 

“Soohyun doesn’t want you sleeping over.” 

“What did I do?” 

You hear someone laughing behind you and Gyuri comes into view a second later “You’re the official boyfriend now, Yunho, you lost your sleeping over privileges.” 

“I never had them to begin with!” 

“Well—” The sound of glass breaking stops her in her tracks and she goes a little pale at what it means. “Call the police, I’m committing a murder and then turning myself in.” 

And then she disappears into the kitchen as well. Faintly, you can hear Seonghwa laughing. You hold onto Yunho, fingers threading softly into the strands of hair on his neck. 

“They’re not helping us when we move in together.” 

Yunho laughs. 

“When we move in together we’re going to hire professionals.” 

“Exactly.” 

“And Seonghwa can do the interior design of the main part of the house but we can handle our room and studios by ourselves.” 

“Mhm.” 

There’s that slight glint of concern that crosses his expression again when you take in a deep breath, but you shake your head so he can let go of it. 

“We’ll be okay, Yun. We are okay.” 

You watch him swallow tightly but then he nods. There’s a lot you both should be concerned about right now but, as you hear Wooyoung scream from the kitchen and a loud smack against the wall nearest to you, you both silently decide to be in the moment. 

It doesn’t really matter what hardships you go through, as long as you’re together. 

“Against all odds,” you insist, “we’ll be alright.” 

I love them and I'm so sad to let them go but hey! that's life! If you read all the way down hear, thank you so, so much. Don't be afraid to go into my askbox to make comments, suggestions, etc! I will take everything into account for my other stories. Thank you!

© jensthwa, 2025.

[feralmode]

it actually pisses me off so much whenever anyone calls andrew a sociopath. ik not everyone is privy to the details of his life but you want to come after andrew minyard??? the love of my damn life??? and pretend he doesn't have FEELINGS????

andrew, who finally found a loving mother after years of abuse in the foster system and wanted so badly to be loved he tried to force himself to endure more abuse, and only put a stop to it to protect a brother he’d never met

andrew, who fights fiercely to protect other people's boundaries no matter who they are, even if it's his own family crossing a line

andrew, who learned exy in juvie and managed to put enough effort into it to become the best damn goalkeeper in class 1 exy

andrew, who told his uncle about his abuse to make sure his abuser wouldn’t have access to any more kids after him, only to be told it was a misunderstanding

andrew, who nearly killed the men who attacked his cousin and then was drugged against his will for nearly three years and took every opportunity to fight for sobriety even though it made him sick

andrew, who promised to protect kevin on only the hope of a future will to live because he wanted it so badly, because kevin told him he was worth something

andrew, who befriended renee when he discovered how similar they were and trusted her with his past and learned from her a way to protect himself and the people he cares about, who talks to her about the zombie apocalypse and world war 3 and spars with her when he's upset and only wins half their fights and never treats her like her faith or kindness make her weak or fragile

andrew, who fully trusts and believes in bee's ability to help him, laughs when she sends him funny texts, buys her souvenirs at the airport, and would go back for her in an apocalypse

andrew, who shut down the goal because wymack asked him to, but pretended it was for the booze

andrew, who falls for a man who’s an obvious liar and a runaway, knowing it could kill him to let someone in again, "maybe i'm not as smart as i thought i was"

andrew, who says yes to neil because neil is the only one who actually pays attention to how andrew thinks and listens to his reasons and offers him something in return for his loyalty, who gets close to neil because neil respects his no, "that's why"

andrew, who’s afraid of heights

andrew, who fights fiercely to protect the people he loves but won’t tell them why, because caring almost killed him the first time, who keeps his promises, "fuck you for expecting anything else"

andrew, who is fighting so, so hard to be alive and never gets any credit for it

andrew, who does end up smiling after he comes off the drugs, god damn it i will die on this hill!!!!

literally don't say shit to me about andrew "has feelings" minyard