#I think I actually do feel somewhat depressed right now

[thoughfullovercreator]

Sorry not sorry. But some people need to read this.

Tw: when I am employing the word « delusional » I am not referring to the medical definition of it.

What I am going to be saying is going to be disliked by some. But I don��t care.

I am going to be talking right now about a phenomenon that I’ve been seeing ever since I started reading mangas and watching anime’s and it has always bothered me.

And guess what ? I am not the only one being bothered by that, which reassures me.

The problem is the following:

Each time there’s a genuine friendship between two male characters or even two females in a manga/anime, people dirty it by gluing on it, their own fantasies and making it somewhat romantic/sexual, by inventing a « sexual tension » between these protagonists.

Always happens in the anime/manga universe.

…and I am going to tell you why it’s a problem/bothersome situation for many :

The problem is that it renders the story less deep and genuine and more people are influenced in thinking that, a male character, by being nice to another male (same for females), is romantic or whatever.

Like some of y’all are sexualising everything. Get it together !

This is, most of the time (actually 99% of the time but okay), LITTERALY delusion because the authors have never, ever meant for their characters to be viewed as anything but genuine friends/acquaintances..

It distorts the story for nothing and, in my opinion, it is disrespectful to the creators of the manga, to just take their characters and create a quiproquo on it. Sorry not sorry to say it.

As an example, let me take the « Dazai x Chuuya » fans.

The readers go as far as to totally disregard the fact that, Dazai, since literally the first episode, has implied that he was not attracted to guys. On top of that, he’s kinda depicted as the guy who likes women. Never ever was anything that would make him attracted to Chuuya as a male.

(It also happens for JJK and others… )

Therefore, you’re disregarding the genuine and complex aspects of a potential friendship and understanding between them, to glue on it what you would have wished it to be : a romantic or sexual attraction. It’s a projection of what YOU would have WANTED it to be.

It is actually immoral to distort a character’s sexuality like what ?! It becomes a habit and people do it also for celebrities. It’s kinda going too far.

It’s not for you to decide.

When it’s « not a big deal » for some, it could actually represent a big deal for many. And make many people uncomfortable.

Respectfully :

You wanna do your fanfics ? NO PROBLEM really ! be our guests ! but do it in the context of a fanfic, after putting on a disclaimer, as a respectful gesture for the creators behind mangas !

(On the other hand, when people write « character x reader », it doesn’t distorts the original story cuz Y/N just doesn’t exist).

BUT rubbing it down our throats without any context as if it was a general truth provided by the creators, that « these characters are in love/sexually attracted to one another » NO. Keep it for yourself or your group of friends if y’all agree on it.

Again, many many people feel as uncomfortable as me regarding this. It’s kinda also getting out of hands.

It’s getting out of hands especially when I see fandoms like the Black butler fandom where they imagine a « sexual tension » between Sebastian that is an adult and Ciel that is 13 !

Like it or not. I am not sorry for being respectful and realistic.

Some decency is needed :

Not everything is okay with what people are doing on the internet. You can have your « dirty thoughts » but don’t expose them, not everyone wishes to hear about it. Some things have to stay between you and yourself.

Kids/ teens :

And kids/teens (all those below 18) y all need to get off your phone a little and go play outside or meet your friends (for teens ig) if you don’t wanna end up in depression at an early age or with extremely poor social skills.

At least take a real book like ones at the school library and learn things. Instead of learning how to .. by reading explicit content cuz you never listen when we tell you that a certain one shot is +18.

Again, I am not sorry. I am pissed.

[riririnnnn]

I have this foreboding feeling that while we are prepared for Sae's and Shidou's backstory, Nagi's backstory is going to sneak from behind and punch us in the gut.

No, I don't think it's going to be straight up depression like Kaiser's, but I do think that it'll hit close to home.

You see, Nagi got Laissez-faire parents which means they never really interfered with his life. Like, these type of parents—as I have read on some websites—will basically set their child free and let them do whatever they want with no or very few rules/restrictions. They will not tell you, "Oh! You should do this!" or "Oh! You shouldn't do this!" They will simply let you figure out your life all by yourself.

I'm not an expert on this and I'm not calling this type of parenting bad in any way. Every child is different with different needs, and I'm sure there are many who grew up in this kinda family and liked this parenting method. However, I do think that Nagi didn't like it that much, and I got two reasons to think this way:

1. "That's nice."

When Reo said that his family constantly meddles in his life, Nagi's immediate reaction was, "That's nice" instead of being surprised or disgruntled. If Nagi really liked his parents NOT meddling in his life, then he should've said something like, "Really!? Sucks to be you, Reo. I can't imagine living a life like that!"

You getting me?

Also, we all know how Nagi is—he definitely feels that telling someone to do or not to do something is a hassle, so he, probably, feels that if someone is doing all this for you, then you are important for them.

And before any one says, no, I don't think Nagi was tying up his tongue thinking, "They are his parents. They wouldn't want anything bad for their own child, right? I shouldn't say anything against them and should say good things about them just to be safe." I don't think he has this kind of filter in him.

2. "Don't die ."

So, why would you not want someone to die? Of course, because you care for them and want them to be with you.

"Want"

That's really what I'm tryna highlight.

It's a pretty common knowledge that some children are just naturally more independent while others are a bit more dependent and seek guidance from the elders. Considering Nagi's first reaction to knowing about Reo's parents' meddling, I think that Kiddo!Nagi falls into the latter category—someone who likes to be guided and helped by the adults. Now, place Kiddo!Nagi with his Laissez-faire parents... You are getting where I'm going with this one?

That's why I think that Kiddo!Nagi, probably, thought that his parents didn't love him/care for him. And what happens if someone doesn't love you or care for you? Yeah, they don't care if you die which, somewhat, explains why Older!Nagi was happy to hear, "Don't die [before us (probably)]" from his parents.

I have already talked about his potential backstory before too, so it was actually when I heard he had longer bangs as a child that made my head turn to him again—something felt odd.

I understand that having long bangs is not a big deal—Niko's bangs literally cover his eyes, but having it as a kid is way different, y'know. Once you are like 12-13, you somewhat become capable of doing your own hair and clothes by yourself, so you can manage whatever aesthetics you prefer. However, for a kid younger than that, it's the parents' responsibility to look after his/her hair and clothes, and we all know that long bangs are quite bothersome—blocks our vision, sometimes stabs the eyes, and even irritatingly itches the nose.

All in all, till his backstory drops, I'd firmly believe that he was, though unintentionally, a neglected kid—at least, emotionally.

Now I can't get this image out of my head where Kiddo!Nagi is longingly staring at other kids in a park where everyone is learning things like riding a bicycle or maybe playing baseball and stuff with their parents while he is just.. there, probably, all alone.

[roadimusprime]

Google, how do I motivate myself to go to work?

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

Princess | Intro/ Part 01

There's more to it than what meets the eye.

Tags/Warnings: Wolfdog Hybrid!Jungkook, Showdog Hybrid!Reader, Enemies to lovers, Angst, Fluff?, Brat!Reader, Jungkook has major brat tamer energy, reader has some issues, mentions of depression

Length: 6.5k Words

-> Masterlist

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Jungkook hates loosing.

And that’s especially true when it comes to bets- because he also can’t really pass up any opportunity to show off and be the best at something. So when he took on the bet with Jimin, he didn’t think anything of it- after all, even if he lost, he could still simply teach that so-called ‘puppy’ Jimin was supposed to be working with a killer choreo and make his way on top either way.

What Jimin failed to tell him, however, was that you are an absolute menace.

Not only are you spoiled to high heavens and dressed head to toe in pretty designer pieces designed and tailored just for you, no- your attitude is making him want to throw himself into a busy road to be run over by any moving vehicle willing to do so. It’s been not even thirty minutes he’s spent in the meeting room, and he already regrets his big mouth with Jimin.

But maybe it’s just a bad first impression. Maybe, you’re just having a bad day.

“So, basically, we’ve got four weeks to make it work.” Your manager says, having finished his plan as he stands at the end of the table everyone is sitting at, you included- though you clearly do not listen to the conversations happening at all, instead occupied with a game on your switch console, decorated in plastic gemstones and cute stickers, sound not even all the way down as to not interrupt anyone.

Jungkook feels his blood boiling. Can’t you at least attempt to listen? After all, it’s your career that’s on the line.

“I’ll need the possible song choices she made, and I also gotta get a copy of the guidelines and what the judges generally look for. Doesn’t have to be today, but I’d like to have it before we start making anything up.” Jungkook offers, arms crossed. You’ve not even looked at him once today.

If he just went by looks, you’d actually be quite cute- you're clearly taking good care of yourself, and you fall right into the category of hybrid girl he’d see himself interested in- but your character seems to be the exact opposite, as you stare down at the small screen in your hands, lashes long, hiding your gaze a little from him.

“We can totally do that.” Your manager says. “I- uhm.. Are you okay with that too?” He asks towards you, and you simply take in a deep breath before you sigh, shoulders shrugging and head somewhat nodding. Your eyes however never break away from your game, instead, you just adjust your seating postition a little before you become completely detached from the situation again. “I’m sorry about that. She’s.. Having a bad day.” Your manager justifies.

Jungkook smells the lie right away.

“Practice will start at 7 AM then-” Jungkook starts, and that seems to catch your attention as your face turns into a frown. “-And we’ll practice the whole week, except weekends.”

“That’s too early.” You mumble, grumbling down at your game while your legs stretch out under the table, feet brushing against his shins. You’re not wearing shoes, only your knee-high socks, having discarded the slip on’s early on for no apparent reason other than comfort.

“She usually sleeps until.. 11 so..” Your manager starts, and Jungkook has to swallow a growl.

“8.” He says sternly, staring at you who scoffs down at your hands. “She’ll have to get up earlier then.” He decides, making you lift your chin a little, before you save your game, turn off the console and put it on the table, your arms now crossed as well as you finally, for the first time, look at him.

The fire in your eyes could seriously burn someone if it was to be manifested into a real flame, he decides.

“You’ll have to wait until I show up then.” You answer him, and his eyes narrow, feeling challenged. But before he can respond, your manager seems to sense the growing tension between you two, as he dissolves the meeting quickly to have you driven back home.

Jungkook however, can’t let go this easily.

“You forgot to tell me that she’s an absolute bitch.” Jungkook growls into his phone, sitting on his couch with the TV on but on mute. “There’s no way I’ll be working with her for four weeks without committing a crime.” He threatens, and Jimin has the audacity to laugh.

“Oh Jungkookie, don’t let her fool you!” He laughs. “She’s a literal angel, believe me. She just acts all tough.”

“Or she was just interested in you.” Jungkook denies. “I’ve spent barely an hour with her and I already know She’s gonna be a handful to manage.” He sighs.

“Come on now, she’s what? Half your size?” Jimin playfully exaggerates. “Just put her in timeout, big guy, and you’ll be fine.” He jokes, very much aware of Jungkook’s rather dominant nature due to his wolfblood. And while the joke is funny, it’s also a problem.

Jungkook doesn’t know if he can really stay calm while working with you. And his career could be over in a second if he so much as lashes out at you verbally- because no way would someone work with a hybrid choreograph or dancer who can’t keep his cool. He already has issues getting some gigs due to his wolfblood mixed in- one mistake and he can surely put his career to rest.

He really regrets taking on this bet now.

Hopefully this won’t end too badly.

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You really do not turn up at 8 like he told you to.

He’s impatiently waiting in the practice room, your manager and stylist and other staff already present- everyone trying to get a hold of you with no luck at all. It’s only until an hour later that another staff member informs everyone that you’ve finally woken up, and that you’re currently on your way to the practice room.

Jungkook is pissed, to say the least.

If you work like this the entire four weeks, there’s no way he can manage to push a good choreography into your head that you can pull off properly on stage. And if you fail, it’ll be on him- and he just can’t accept that. Hopefully, you’ll warm up to the idea of actually putting effort into this.

Hopefully.

When you finally turn up, you don’t appear to be sorry at all- still somewhat asleep and in no way ready to start practicing anytime soon. Instead, you sit down and take out your breakfast to eat, while your stylist runs a brush through your hair. But what’s odd about this, is more or less that Jungkook can sense a total shift in energy right now.

It’s like they’re shielding you, giving him no access to you until they deem the timing alright.

And you just robotically eat your little breakfast, while everyone else scatters around you, rushing from spot to spot. Jungkook isn’t too sure what exactly might be happening- but then again, it’s also not unusual to see such a scene. You’re a showhybrid after all- meant to look pretty at all times and in every living moment just in case there’s a camera around. And he knows that the practice is going to be filmed occasionally for some behind the scenes content for your fanbase- which is why you have your stylist around in the first place. You’re just supposed to look like you’re not wearing any makeup at all.

No one wants to see reality, because reality is what everyone can witness if they look in the mirror. And that’s boring. That’s not entertaining. That’s not something to be jealous of, or something to admire.

In a way, Jungkook starts to feel a bit sorry for you. Do you ever have a moment for yourself?

Either way, the moment the cameras start running, you switch character almost instantly. Suddenly you’re polite, soft spoken and determined to get every step right- though your true nature does poke it’s head through on occasion, especially when you can’t get something quite right the first or second try.

“Maybe we need to work on how to keep to the beat first.” Jungkook suggests, and at that, you seem to break, sighing with an agitated groan as your tail unravels, falling limp behind you. He’s not seen this happen often- his best friend Yoongi being a dog-hybrid with a curled tail as well, who can be quite grumpy most of the time. But even he never has his tail this.. Lifeless.

It’s unnerving to see.

“I’m not lobotomized, mutt.” You groan, making the manager motion to cut the cameras for a second. “I can keep to a beat, you’re just shit at teaching.” You growl to yourself, sitting down stubbornly as you visibly try and mask the fact that you’re out of breath.

Truth be told, Jungkook isn’t technically a choreographer. He usually works with professional dancers or simply follows whatever he’s given by an artist themselves- so yes, he might actually be a little rusty when it comes to teaching others.

Do you have to be so rude about it though? No.

“Well we’re going around in circles like this.” Jungkook shakes his head. “I’ll get us something to drink. Try and calm down a bit..” He attempts to soothe your temper, as he leaves the practice room- mostly so that he himself can escape the situation for a moment.

He’s not sure what it is. Maybe your scent full of anger and fear filling the space so much that it feels like it’s drowning him in the room, or the fact that you always have to be so rude-

Wait.

Fear?

Alarmed by that, Jungkook walks a bit faster with the water bottles in hand to get back into the room- just to find you not there anymore, everyone looking at him as if they’re surprised to see him back already. “Where is she?” Jungkook asks, and your manager blinks a little, caught off guard.

“She went to get something to drink.” He states, making Jungkook frown.

“I said I’m gonna get us some. Why did she go by herself?” Jungkook asks. “She doesn’t even know where the vending machines are.”

“She said you were taking too long.” A stylist mentions. Jungkook pinches the bridge of his nose.

“I was gone for not even five minutes?” He growls to himself, before he hears you enter the room again, a small juicebox in hand that you punch the tiny straw into. “Don’t just run off.” He scolds you.

You roll your eyes.

“Yeah alright, Daddy.” You scoff, walking past him to sit in a corner- actually facing it for some reason, your back turned towards everyone else.

“Ah, don’t be alarmed.” Your manager explains. “She.. Sometimes does this. We don’t know either why, and we don’t really question it either. Give her a few minutes and she’ll be right back to practice.” He beams at him, and Jungkook feels weirdly played.

Something’s odd here.

But it’s also none of his business.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

The next day, you’re not there on time again.

And despite the fact that Jungkook had told you no food in the practice room was allowed, you clearly disregarded that as nothing but background noise, while you take out your bag of foods in the middle of the large room.

“I said no food in the practice room.” Jungkook scolds, walking towards you to stand right in front of you, arms crossed. “and you’re also late again. Two hours to be exact.”

“You said no food.” You shrug, lifting up the small bag of puffed rice crisps. “That’s snacks.” You respond, making him narrow his eyes and clench his jaw.

“put it to the side.” He says. “You’re here to practice, not to eat.” He reminds you, able to talk freely with almost none of your staff around today.

“can’t practice on an empty stomach.” You respond however, letting yourself fall into your bag, before you take out your phone to scroll on it while you eat your snacks- crumbs already littering the floor. “Why’s your wifi so shit in here?” You mumble to yourself, when suddenly, the signal stops entirely. “Hey, your internet cut off-“ you start, before you spot him putting his phone down. “Turn it back on-“

“Since you’re acting like a brat, I’ll treat you like one.” He simply says. “wifi stays off until you practiced.” He scolds, boldly taking both your snacks and your phone from you to put it on a table close by, the act alone catching you so off guard that it has you frozen in place while you process it. “Do you want to get up yourself or do I need to help you with that as well?” He asks, and you glare at him.

“Touch me and I’ll sue you.” You threaten, and he watches you for a moment as if to see if you’re serious- before he decides you’re clearly not, with the way your tail slightly twitches, clearly needing to be consciously held down by yourself to not wag.

“Alright that’s it.” He simply tells you before he walks towards you, and much to his dismay, you let yourself fall limply down onto the ground as if you’re trying to become liquid. “You’re being ridiculous right now-“

“let me have the wifi again!” You just huff. “and my snacks. I’m hungry.” You argue.

“get up earlier tomorrow and have breakfast then.” He shakes his head, before he grabs your wrists to lift you into a sitting position. But the moment he lets go, you’ve flopped back down again, lips twitching.

Now your tail is wagging, clearly.

“so that’s what you’re after, huh?” Jungkook clicks his tongue. “too bad. I’m not playing your game.” He says, before he walks to the side where all his stuff is, changing his shoes.

“wait- What’re you doing?” You ask, watching him tie his sneakers.

“going home.” He answers without looking. “were clearly not getting anywhere.”

You sigh, groaning out lout before you angrily hit the floor-

Getting up to walk towards him, pulling his jacket from his hands before you let it fall onto the table. “I wanna practice.” You pout.

“What a bummer, princess.” He answers, taking his jacket back to slip it on. “I don’t. Now get your stuff, and then-“ He tells you, walking closer before he points to the door behind you. “-get out.” He demands.

And you just angrily huff at yourself, doing just that.

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You fail to get to practice on time again the day after.

And the day after that.

But on friday, Jungkook has finally had enough of your poor excuses and frankly stupid behavior.

"Why is she late this time?" Jungkook asks your staff, jaw clenched as he's already frustrated again. You're clearly not taking this seriously, and he honestly doesn't know how anyone else has ever managed to work with you in any way.

"We're.. not sure." Your manager says, face showing his own shame about your behavior. "She turned her phone off, we can't reach her."

That's it.

Jungkook can understand a lot of things. You're used to being spoiled and having everything set in front of you on a silver platter- he gets that. Sometimes, people's minds can be poisoned by wealth and success. But turning off your phone? That's too far.

What if something actually happened? What if you're sick, in need of help, in danger? This is absolutely ridiculous behaviour, and he does not care anymore. "She said she lives in the city here, right?" Jungkook asks, and the manager nods. "Alright, where exactly?" He wonders, and a stylist of yours calls out your address.

And that sets him off even further- because you barely live ten minutes away from him. Which means there's not even a single reason as to why you would be late at all.

"What are you going to do?" Your manager worries as Jungkook changes his shoes and slips on his jacket, grabbing the keys to his motorcycle.

"I'm getting her myself."

If there’s one thing Jungkook hates, then it’s people isolating themselves just for their own convenience. It’s mainly due to his best friend years back doing that constantly- turning off his phone to get some quiet time for himself, until he actually did end up being in trouble.

And when someone tried to call him, and couldn’t get a hold of him, they just thought ‘It’s probably one of those days again.’

If Jungkook didn’t go against his better judgement, if he didn’t end up checking up on him despite his mind telling him that it was for nothing, Yoongi would not be alive today.

He rings your doorbell multiple times, annoyingly so to get you to stand up at some point. There’s no way you can sleep through that, especially when he starts angrily knocking onto your door. Suddenly, you open it, staring at him with eyes barely open. “What.” You ask, and Jungkook takes a look at you for a second.

You’ve clearly been asleep, but you don’t look rested at all- eyes barely open as you glare at him, and funnily enough, one of your ears is even a bit floppy- not quite entirely down, but also no standing as straight as it usually does. “You’re late.” Jungkook scolds. You attempt to close the door again, making him attempt something dangerous.

He puts his hand in between the door.

But, maybe Jimin wasn’t so wrong after all, because you immediately open the door again, now wide awake as you look at his hand, worried you might’ve hurt him. Only when you don’t find anything you push his palm back towards him, and cross you arms.

“Come on.” He says, nodding towards the hallway behind him.

“No.” You deny.

“What do you mean, no?’ he asks, agitated.

“I said no. I don’t wanna.” You answer, walking back into your apartment- and with your door left open, he takes it as an invitation to walk inside.

The second he closes the door and turns around, he’s in shock.

Cardboard boxes, trash bags, crumpled papers and wrappings all over the place. Shoes litter the entrance area, your coats are thrown over the chairs at your open kitchen which sink is filled with unwashed dishes. The windows are shut, curtains heavy as they hide the mess in your home from the outside world. It’s so dark that Jungkook feels like if he wasn’t a hybrid, he most likely wouldn’t be able to see where he’s stepping at all.

How long have you been living like this?

The apartment isn’t big, there doesn’t seem to be many rooms at all. After searching for a bit he finds you curled up in your large bed, pink bedsheets and blankets halfway on the floor while your little gaming console chimes and beeps while you play.

“..come on now, you’ve.. got the weekend off.” Jungkook says. “it’s just today-“

“I said I don’t want to.” You growl, face focused on your game. “now fuck off and leave me.”

Jungkook sighs. This really isn’t any of his business.

But somehow, as he walks back into the main area of the small apartment, he finds himself opening a new trashbag to throw away all the plastic strewn around. He puts your shoes in order, places the garbage bags in a corner to have them out the way, before he rips the cardboard apart to throw away easier later. He’s not sure why he’s doing that- maybe partially to annoy you and get you to get out of bed, or maybe because he pities you.

This isn’t just laziness. From the way you act, to the body language you scream out quietly, to the fact that you don’t seem motivated for anything at all.

This is something deeper.

“What’re you doing?” You growl from a corner, before you walk closer to rip the cardboard box from his hands, throwing it in a corner again. “I told you to fuck off.” You threaten, and he nods.

“heard it loud and clear.” He agrees with crossed arms, and you huff.

“Ears seem to be working then.” You snap. “the mistake must be in your brain.”

“I can assure you it’s working just fine as well.” He answers, and you snarl at that, distinctive canines showing.

“Then why are you still here digging through my shit?!” You bark at him, and he shrugs.

“Because no one deserves to rot away like this.”

It’s quiet at that, for a good moment. The only sound heard is the clock in the kitchen ticking, some faint rain against the windows, and a garbage bag slowly slipping a little from its position. And when it falls to the floor, he catches a short second of your eyes tearing up, before you turn around, looking away from him before you run off into your bedroom-

But the door won’t close with all the clutter, making you angrily growl at it while you try and somewhat pull it close.

Jungkook slowly walks towards you, to pull your hands off of the door handle, making you drop down to the floor in defeat, sitting right on your clothes that are laying on the floor. “leave me alone.” You cry to yourself, head low and hybrid ears even lower as you sit there, kicking away some of the clutter.

The wolfdog hybrid slowly squats down to your level, before he carefully moves a broken jar away from your leg and onto a small table close by. “What’s going on with you?” He finally asks, and you kick your leg again at that, a small box flying through the room.

“I just want to be alone!” You bark. “I don’t want anyone in here, I don’t want to go to practice, I don’t want to do this stupid contest, I don’t want anyone to look at me!” You complain loudly, and Jungkook would easily call this a textbook temper tantrum, if it wasn’t for your clearly desperate tears.

“did you tell your management?” He asks, and you scoff, sniffling.

“as if they care!” You huff. “it’s always just do this, do that, go here, eat that, smile, be nice, film everything.!” You tell him. “I want to go home!” You begin to cry now, hiding your face in your hands.

“Home?” Jungkook wonders, unsure what you mean. Isn’t this your home?

“I just wanna go home..” you continue to cry into your hands. “I wanna go see mom, and dad..” you mumble muffled into your palms, and Jungkook feels terrible seeing you like this. He doesn’t know you, but something is clearly not right. This isn’t acting, because your body language, your scent- everything tells him that you’re in genuine distress.

“Maybe you can visit them?” He wonders, slowly reaching out to put his hand on your knee, offering silent comfort that you, for now, seem to accept. “do they live far away-“

“they won’t let me.” You say. “they told them.. they told them I don’t wanna see them and that I hate them, and now they hate me.” You whimper.

“They?” the wolfdog asks, pushing some clutter to the side to sit down as well.

“the company.” You mumble. “because.. my dad didn’t want me to move away back when.. when I was still a pup.” You say. A pup possibly meaning that you were still underage. “and.. back then, I thought it was for the best. This was such a one-in-a-million chance..” you reveal to him. “I thought it was worth it.”

“Do they threaten you?” Jungkook worries, and you’re quiet for a moment.

“..They’re all I have.” You admit. “my.. my apartment. My money. My name. They own me.” You say, defeat evident in your voice as you slowly calm down again, tension leaving your body. “just.. leave me alone.”

“I cant.” Jungkook denies with a sigh. “not anymore.”

“fuck off-“ you start, grabbing at his hand, but he somehow moves it around, holding yours now instead.

“I won’t.” He sternly says. “Alright? I don’t know how, but I’ll figure something out.” He promises, and you look up at him with slightly red eyes, confused.

“Figure out what?” You ask, and he smiles.

“How to bring you home.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

You’re very clearly not very happy about Jungkook currently cleaning your apartment with you.

You’re slow and sluggish, and you constantly complain about everything- and Jungkook can somewhat understand it. You’ve quite literally buried yourself in this little cave, having someone take it apart like this must be horribly uncomfortable. But it’s for the best- and you’ll soon realize that.

That doesn’t mean you don’t annoy him, still.

“Come on now, get up.” Jungkook scolds you, as he watches you sit on the couch.

“What?” You complain. “I’m cleaning.. under the coffee table.” You pretend, but he doesn’t take that as an appropriate answer.

“We agreed on one area at a time. We’re still in the kitchen.” He says. “now get over here and help me with the dishes. I wash, you dry.” He decides, making you somewhat reluctantly get up. It’s odd to have anyone in your apartment at all, since not even staff is allowed inside- you constantly find and make up excuses to keep them out at all times. This is your only safe space, after all.

The only place no one is looking at you.

“yesterday..” jungkook slowly says, putting another plate towards you so you can dry it. “..you said that the company owns you.” He remembers, and you nod. “To what degree?”

“I have an independence license.” You say. An independence license is basically a permanent permit to live on your own, and also work on your own. Basically, with it, you don’t need an owner at all. “But.. the company has full control over my finances and such. And they own my, you know, brand name.” You shrug.

“I meant it, you know?” He tells you, draining the sink of the soapy water. “I’ll try and figure something out.”

“Don’t bother.” You simply say. “it doesn’t matter.”

“It does.” Jungkook denies, drying his hands on a towel. But you stay silent as you put the dishes away in their proper places, not really sparing him any glance at all again.

Jungkook doesn’t really know yet how to help you. First, he wants to somehow get into contact with your parents and set things right again- maybe he can get their names and phone number from jimin who’s been working you for a good while now. And then, maybe they can help, too.

“I’m tired.” You complain as you sit down on the now finally somewhat clean floor, all the trash in bags and in a corner.

“You can take a nap.” Jungkook agrees, and you look at him with positive surprise.

“wait, really?!” You ask, tail wagging a little.

“sure. You’ve been working hard.” He approves. “and now that your couch isn’t cluttered, you can take a proper nap there.”

“Why not my bed?” You whine, disappointed.

“bed is for proper sleep. Couch is for naps.” He explains. “if you go to bed now you’ll just start rotting again.”

You stay quiet for a good moment, before you speak again, looking out the windows, curtains by now pulled open. Slowly, you walk over to the couch to sit down on, staring at your hands in your lap.

“I’m such a fuck up, am I not?” You sigh. “imagine if people knew how much of a failure I am.”

“You’re not a failure.” Jungkook denies, sitting down next to you on the couch. “just.. a bit lost at the moment.”

“Jungkook..” you say quietly, looking at his chest. “I really want to go home.” You admit, and he smiles softly.

“I know. And I’ll figure out a way, promise.” He offers, opening his arms. And much to his surprise, you take the invitation- even so much as to crawl onto his lap, leaning against his chest with your arms wrapped around him. It’s a lot more than he thought this was going to be, but he also can’t deny that this feels oddly comforting for him too.

And even though your tail is still limp and lifeless, at least you’re starting to open up. And maybe jimin was right after all.

Maybe you’re just acting tough.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

Jungkook quickly learns that you really must’ve left home at a very young age- because you’re very much completely lost in translation when it comes to general tasks that fall onto someone when they live alone.

You’ve got no idea how to properly do laundry, you don’t know how to cook at all, and you have no idea what cleaning products to use for what. When he asked you if you had some window cleaner, you’d stared at him for a good second before you asked him why he can’t just use soap- and cooking in your book is simply boiling water for instant noodles.

It’s no wonder your apartment was in the state it was in. No one ever taught you how to look after yourself and your own home.

“Alright?” Jungkook asks while you stare at the washing machine with a determined gaze.

“put the clothes in, put the soap-squishy-thing in, close the door and then set it to that program there.” You repeat. Jungkook nods.

“But-?” He presses, and you stare at him for a second, thinking.

“But...uh..” you try and find an answer. “no colored stuff with white clothes? And no black with colors?” You try, and he grins, tail wagging.

“Good girl. See? You’re not dumb, you just didn’t know.” He praises. “now press start and then we can go laze around a little until it’s done.” He says, making you happily press the start button.

Something that Jungkook has noticed, is that the entire apartment seems oddly.. sterile almost, in that it looks and feels taken straight out of a magazine. You’ve got no thing personal it seems like, no blankets that aren’t a neutral color, no toys, no plushies despite you telling him by now that you love these things. Instead, you only really have your little gaming console and that’s it- your bedroom is mostly taken over by designer clothes and shoes, as well as all sorts of accessories. The bathroom contains shelves full of skincare for face and body, but everything else appears to be not at all to be your personality.

“You can get yourself some new blankets for the couch now that we’ve cleaned up.” Jungkook mentions, but at that you simply begin to pout next to him, legs pulled close to you as you slide down a little, slouching.

“Nah, they’ll say no.” You huff, watching the TV commercial play.

So you really meant it when you said that the company has full control over your money. He believed it might just involve big spendings, which would make sense- but it looks like it more so involves every single purchase you make instead.

“How long is your contract?” He asks, and you shrug.

“I think forever.” You say, flopping to the side, legs hanging off to the floor. “I don’t know.”

“Thats.. not legal.” Jungkook frowns. “did you never renew it?”

“Huh?” Your ears tilt towards him for a second. He still wonders why one of your ears is floppy these days. “..no. I don’t think I ever did.”

“I.. how long have you been with them?” He asks, and you hold your hands in front of you to start counting. And the more fingers you seem to add, the more concerned he becomes.

“Well, I uh.. wait, I left when I was..” you mumble to yourself. “and now that I’m.. I think eleven years?” You answer, looking at him.

The maximum contract length for hybrids is five years.

Five.

“I.. okay, can you do me a favor?” He asks, and you nod, slowly sitting up. “next time you’re at your company’s HQ, try and get a hold of a copy of your contract. But don’t tell anyone what you need it for.” He says.

If he can get a copy of whatever slave contract you’re under, getting you out of it will be easy. There’s strict laws for hybrids in place after all- one can’t just work them like pets, there’s rules every company has to follow. And that is the same in your industry as well.

“am I gonna go to jail?” You ask, and Jungkook shakes his head.

“No no, you did nothing wrong.” He denies, reaching out to pet your head- pleasantly surprised when you visibly accept the gesture.

Because he speaks the truth. You did nothing wrong.

You were simply used from the start.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

On Monday, jungkook is standing at your door, 7 AM.

And you really, really do not want to go with him.

“Come on now-“ he urges again, pulling on your fluffy sweater while you cling to the doorframe of your apartment building entrance, having just seen what exactly Jungkook uses as his preferred means of transportation.

“No, you’re not getting me on that death-trap, no way in hell!” You complain, escaping his grasp just for a second before his arms are around your middle, easily removing your fingers from the door with a smile sent towards the security guard as reassurance, before he carries your struggling body towards his Harley. “No!” You complain. “This is kidnapping! Abduction!” You cry out, before he puts the helmet he’d gotten recently on your head, hands fastening the strap beneath your chin before he gets onto the motorcycle as well, sitting in front of you.

And the second it roars to life, you’re clinging to him with arms and legs involved, resulting in Jungkook adjusting your grip a little to not strangle him.

Well- at least he’s not driving fast.

“I hate you.” You complain when he removes the helmet again in the underground parking lot beneath the dance studio, pupils still blown wide, cheeks a bit flushed.

“If you just got up yourself like a big girl, I wouldn’t have to drive you.” He easily tells you, helping you down from the vehicle. “we’ll do this again and again until you learn.” He explains, stepping into the elevator with you- still lowly growling to yourself, pissed off at his attitude.

You’re not a kid. He’s stupid.

But it does work, because at least you somewhat practice with him for a few hours, before you stubbornly lay down starfish style in the middle of the practice room, demanding a break- one he grants for once, even if it’s just ten minutes.

“I really don’t wanna go to that contest.” You huff, half of your face squished against the shiny floorboards. Jungkook slowly walks towards you, squatting down to flick his finger against one of your ears that’s again, a little floppy today.

“I know.” He answers, because he does still remember your outburst, devastating cries edged into his mind.

“Hey Jungkook?” you ask, as he absent-mindedly rubs your ear between his fingers, almost enchanted by the softness of it.

“Yeah?” He answers, noticing the way you clearly enjoy such a simple touch to the fullest. You’re constantly surrounded by people, and yet it’s clear that you’re touch-starved and just treated like a doll and nothing else. How lonely must you have been until now?

“Do you have a girlfriend?” You ask. “or a boyfriend?” You wonder, leaning into his hand with closed eyes.

“No.” He answers, unsure and most of all suspicious.

“nice.” You smile, tail wagging softly. “I’m your girlfriend then.” You decide, and he freezes.

“...what?” He asks, sitting down now, a water bottle next to his crossed legs. “You can’t.. that’s not how it works.” He explains, but you shrug.

“My mom and my dad didn’t like each other either.” You reply, staring at nothing ahead, chin on your hands. “they just.. got together out of convenience. Cause they were the same hybrid breed, and I guess didn’t have anyone else at the time.” You mumble. “love isn’t real anyways. I’m pretty- isn’t that enough for you to like me?” You ask, turning your head to look at him with a gaze so.. detached that it makes him feel pity.

Is that your view on the world around you?

“You are pretty.” He responds. “but that’s not a foundation for.. a relationship.” He shakes his head.

“I don’t mind that you’re a mix.” You shrug. “you’re handsome, I’m pretty, and I have money.” You say. “if we get together thousands will flock to your dance studio. You’ll be super successful. “ You propose to him. “doesn’t even have to be for long. You can just.. I don’t know. Spend some time with me until you get bored, and then move on.”

“No.” He denies again. You frown.

“Huh.” You huff, slowly sitting up. “whatever then, I guess.”

“Do you even like me?” he asks you, confused, and you shrug before nodding.

“You’re nice. A bit stick-up-you-ass, but overall nice.” You offer.

Jungkook just watches you for a second, in full disbelief at what had been done to you. Raised in a place of luxury, with a golden spoon in your mouth and lies fed daily to create the view you have on everything around you right now. No kindness without some ulterior motive fits your reality. Everything has to be convenient for everyone involved.

“I don’t want a relationship without love, no matter what I might gain from it.” He explains himself, and you roll your eyes, before you flop onto your back, arms crossed again as you sulk. “You shouldn’t settle for less either.”

“Yeah well I wont get that.” You answer. “no one wants me. They want.. her.” You say, while twirling the silver name tag from around your neck in your fingers.

Until he leans over you, body entirely covering yours for a second, causing you to become nervous and wide eyed at his bold move. He’s looking at your neck, and you’re sure he must’ve realized what’s in it for him- after all, everyone is out for something to gain.

His hands move around your neck, fingers warm. You close your eyes as his face draws closer, awaiting the inevitable.

When suddenly, the collar around your neck is undone, and pulled off your neck.

“what-“ you ask, eyes open again as you watch him still above you, now looking into your eyes, and no longer anywhere else.

“I don’t want her.” He says, referring to the name on the tag around your neck that’s now in his hand, pushed into the floorboards where he holds himself up.

“But I’d like to get to know you instead.”

[ohnohelpitsagain]

so, not to be insane about it on main again but a bard’s lament is one of my favorite episodes and i really think it’s gonna happen this season so i’m just gonna get into it again.

so, i like things that are emotional and messy and difficult because they can be incredibly human. and a bard’s lament is one of these things! however, i also think there’s, a lot of times, a sort of inherent misunderstanding about what is actually happening there. and to be fair, i think it’s totally natural to misunderstand on instinct and that’s kind of the point.

it’s easy to get caught up in what scanlan’s saying because sam delivers it all so well, but i think what gets missed a lot is why scanlan is actually saying it.

i think most people’s instinct is to say “oh it was vox machina’s fault for being bad friends, they reacted poorly” and “oh it was scanlan’s fault for only ever lying or joking when they questioned him” but the thing about situations like this is that both things can absolutely be true. no one won in a bard’s lament because no one ever wins in a situation like that.

scanlan was in a situation where he says most of what he says because he’s in an absolutely awful place mentally. everything has been building up and has lead to this exact moment and it was a perfect storm of across the board miscommunication and emotions and confusion. he says things that he knows will hurt the others because he’s angry and embarrassed and deeply depressed and the safe thing for him to do in that moment, in his head, is to push everyone away.

and yeah, vox machina react somewhat poorly to his outburst but at the same time why wouldn’t they! they were terrified they were going to lose their friend and now they also feel extraordinarily shitty and guilty and they’re faced with a reaction that none of them have the tools to handle. depression is an extraordinarily powerful and immensely illogical force sometimes, so yeah! scanlan said stuff about situations that he was interpreting in the WORST possible way and yeah the group didn’t know where to put that. so it’s not really about them not knowing his mother’s name. and it’s not even fully about the pudding or the prank. it’s about how it, to him, reiterates what he feels about himself. that he’s embarrassing and useless and no one really cares about him. BUT THAT’S WHAT MAKES IT SUCH AN INSANE PIECE OF RP!

because logically, of course they care about scanlan even if they aren’t perfect at showing it. there are MULTITUDES of examples of that! but scanlan doesn’t care about scanlan right then. and not much can get through that level of self loathing in that moment.

[cuubism]

more physical therapy au

--

Dream comes to his next physical therapy appointment marginally--marginally--less apprehensive than before. When he'd first gone, he'd expected to be told he was being melodramatic. That he should just be grateful that the surgery was successful and he has some functioning. That he should just give up on his art, that it didn't matter, that it was hopeless.

He doesn't know why he thought that. It's been hard to have a charitable view of people, lately.

But Hob wasn't like what he feared. Hob was... kind. To him.

So he goes back.

He has, in fact, been doing the exercises that Hob gave him. It is not as though he has much else to do with his time. Other than setting up his new flat, where he now lives after fleeing what had once been his home. Even a few months later, the place is fairly... minimalist. Which is not Dream's style. But he'd left with little more than his art portfolio and the clothes he was wearing, deciding that it wasn't worth going back, and he hasn't had the energy to replace anything since.

Or the two functioning arms required to move things.

His flat is depressing enough that even the physical therapy office feels warm and welcoming by comparison. Hob gives him a big smile as he comes in. It's pathetic that it makes his heart flutter.

He goes over to Hob, setting the folder he brought on the table.

"You look cheerful," Hob notes. Dream highly, highly doubts that. But he is perhaps slightly less morose than last time. Nevertheless, he finds Hob's optimism... somewhat cheering. Normally, he would find such a thing annoying. But there is something very steady and reassuring about Hob. Not much in Dream's life has felt steady in some time.

"I have tried finger painting," Dream tells him. He takes the piece out of the folder and shows it to Hob.

It had been interesting, at least. Distracted him for a moment. Made him think about the way children make art, before becoming mired in theory and technique.

He had considered bringing one of his usual pieces to demonstrate to Hob what he's meant to be able to do, in case that would be helpful, but it's still painful to look at them.

Hob takes the painting and stares at it with wide eyes. "How is this actually good?"

Dream should probably be offended by his incredulity but instead he just finds it amusing. "I had lots of time to spend."

He has, once again, painted a bunch of cats, all different colors, cluttering the page. It's simple, and lets him avoid thinking about his more conceptual pieces he hasn't been able to work on.

"Wow," Hob says, propping the painting carefully against the wall by his computer. "Okay. Good work going above and beyond on the instructions, Dream."

That praise alone shouldn't make something in his chest start glowing. But it does.

"It did not hurt... much," he says tentatively, before Hob can ask. "However, with a brush..."

It is incredibly frustrating. It's like his body continually wishes to betray him. He's lost his home and everything he owns and now he cannot even have his art.

"Give it some time," Hob says, reasonably. He is much more patient, and optimistic, than Dream.

He makes Dream draw and write again. It's... perhaps marginally easier after the exercises Hob had given him. Still, he finds himself getting frustrated by the weakness of his grip. And the more frustrated he gets, the tighter he grips the pencil. He knows he shouldn't. But.

"Lighter," Hob tells him, and Dream glares at him. Hob raises his hands. "Not telling you how to do your art. Just telling you how not to hurt your hand."

Dream bites down on his annoyance, but loosens his grip.

He doesn't see very much progress, but Hob seems satisfied. He makes Dream run through some other strengthening exercises, which... don't hurt as much as Dream was expecting them to. He'd expected that this whole process would be nothing but gritting his teeth through agonizing pain, to minimal results. Perhaps Death is right, and he should be less pessimistic.

In any case, Hob seems proud of him at the end. Even if Dream doesn't think he's done anything to be proud of.

But he does leave, perhaps, slightly more hopeful than he entered. And he wants to come back. At least to see Hob again.

~~

Hob doesn't know if it's patronizing to be proud of Dream, but he is. Over the last few sessions, his grip has improved a lot. Dream doesn't seem to see it, but that's alright. Hob does. He's been keeping all of Dream's drawings. They are getting better.

Hob is pretty good at optimism. But even so, it somehow hadn't occurred to him that quiet and morose wasn't Dream's natural state. That is until he sees the joy that lights up in him the first time he's able to draw a cat without his hand shaking. Dream smiles so wide, like he isn't even aware Hob is still watching him, and Hob realizes that there is lightness to him. It's just been buried down.

The time after that, Dream even brings some of his old art to show. Hob's been dying to see it for ages, but hasn't pressed. And Dream's art is gorgeous. Hob can understand, now, why he'd been dissatisfied with those first cats he'd drawn, no matter how charming Hob had found them. His big pieces are so finely detailed, so precise. It's... possibly going to take a bit more time to get him back to that than Hob had thought. But he's determined.

But Dream seems happy to be sharing his art, doesn't fold in on himself this time just to mention it. He talks with enthusiasm about his process, the most words Hob's heard him say in... well, ever. Hob tells him that he's made enough progress to pick up painting--with brush, not fingers--again if he wants, but not to beat himself up if it doesn't look the same as his old ones. And for once, it seems like Dream actually accepts the instruction not to berate himself.

All of this is, most certainly, the reason Hob does the insane thing he does next.

He's organizing his records, having already walked Dream out, when he hears raised voices from out on the walkway. The front door is still open a crack, he realizes, so the sound carries.

"Come on, you're overreacting," says an unfamiliar, male voice. "I said I won't do it again, didn't I?"

"Do not," Dream replies, voice anxious, but determined, "follow me."

"Well if you'd just pick up your phone--"

Hob steps outside. An unfamiliar man--the ex-boyfriend, Hob assumes, he doesn't know his name, hasn't asked, doesn't care--has Dream cornered in the doorway. His posture doesn't immediately scream rage or aggression, which is more unnerving rather than less, considering this is the same person who'd snapped and broken Dream's hand.

And Dream looks scared. Under the mask of stoicism he likes to wear. Any cheer or hope he'd gained from today's session has evaporated, and he looks like he did before, when he'd first come to Hob's office, curled in on himself. It breaks Hob's heart. And makes him angry.

"Stop being selfish and just--" the ex-boyfriend continues. Hob means to cut in and diffuse the situation. Tell him to leave in a reasonably professional manner.

Instead he punches him in the face.

Ex-boyfriend's nose goes crunch in an extremely satisfying way, and he reels back with a shriek, hands going to his face. Dream startles back, hands clutched around his art portfolio.

"What the FUCK!" yells ex-boyfriend, voice nasally from the blood running down his face. "You can't just-- this is assault! I'll call the cops!"

Oh he wants to go there, does he? "You wanna talk about assault?" Hob says, voice rising in volume. Dream edges behind him, though Hob's not sure he's fully aware he's doing so. "You want to get police involved, that's really what you want?"

Ex-boyfriend looks from Hob to Dream and back, hesitating. That's fucking right, Hob thinks. Not so easy to kick someone around when there's consequences, huh?

It helps that Hob is visibly stronger than Dream, and spends all day physically moving people around. If ex-boyfriend tries anything he's going to get put on the ground.

Finally he retreats, though with a look of rage towards Hob. Once he's gone, Dream finally seems to relax, some of the tension easing from his shoulders.

"You did not need to," he murmurs.

Hob shakes his head. "No one gets to come and threaten you here. Particularly not that dickhead."

Dream huffs a small laugh. Then he picks up Hob's hand, studying it. Hob winces. It's certainly going to bruise.

"Now you will need physical therapy," Dream says, lips twitching. Hob's glad for the humor in his voice.

Hob laughs. "Worth it."

"No one has..." Dream starts, slowly, "done something like that. For me."

It hurts, to think that no one's stood up for him. Or even let him know that someone should stand up for him.

"If he comes back I'll do it again," Hob says, and gets a tentative smile from Dream.

Then asks, "Does he know where you live?"

Dream frowns. "I do not think so."

"Want me to walk you home?"

He doubts Dream's ex-boyfriend will come back to the office now that he knows Hob's willing to deck him, but that doesn't mean he won't try to corner Dream elsewhere.

Dream deliberates, then says, "Would you?"

"'Course, love. Just let me lock the place up."

He doesn't realize what he's said until he's already turned back to lock the door. Shit. Today has already gone so far beyond what he's supposed to do as Dream's physical therapist, and now...

In the end, Dream doesn't call him out on it. But he does stick close to Hob's side as they walk, and occasionally when Hob looks over at him, he catches a tiny smile on his face.

[sleepyparalysisdmon]

SVT with a bipolar partner

Requested? No!

Genre: comfort, some unavoidable angst, suggestive (MDNI)

Sensitive Topics Ahead!

TW/CW: discussions of struggling with and managing bipolar symptoms, up to and including things like self-harm (though this is not explicitly discussed). One suggestive section. 

A/N: This one is also entirely self-indulgent because I’m feeling some type of way right now.

If this topic might be triggering for you, please proceed with caution or skip. If you’re struggling (not just with bipolar, but with anything), I encourage you to reach out for help. Could be a friend, a family member, a coworker or classmate, or a professional. Things like this should not be shameful!! Be kind to yourself, love you. 

Seungcheol

You desperately want to buy an item and Seungcheol knows it. So he casually hands you his credit card (he’ll never be able to stop the sugar daddy allegations, I fear). He’s kind of surprised by how vehemently you deny it. ‘No way, I don’t want to waste your money,’ you’ll say and he’ll roll his eyes. “Baby, I have more than enough, I’ll buy you whatever you want.” The relationship is still somewhat new, so he’s confused when you deny it again, saying you absolutely can’t take his card because you’ll be reckless with it. Does not understand what the problem is with that, honestly, but when you eventually tell him about your diagnosis and particularly how mania works, he’ll pause, if only because of how upset you seem by the topic. It’s fine. If you spending the money is the problem, he’ll spend it for you and he won’t let you feel guilty about it for a single second. 

Jeonghan

Now, I believe Hannie can be a bit of a fashionista. He likes your style. In fact, it was something that attracted him to you in the beginning because it was unique and unapologetic. So when you’re getting ready for a date, he’s confused when you don’t put on the things that you usually do, opting for a baggy sweater and leggings. “Feeling okay?” He’ll ask. “You’re cute as always, but this isn’t your normal look.” You’ll openly tell him that you feel less confident during a depressive episode because the two of you simply do not have secrets, so this is what you want to go with today. You get out of the way, letting him get ready, and you’re kind of surprised when he comes out in equally baggy clothes. He’ll absolutely match your energy, no matter what that means. 

Joshua

He raises an eyebrow when he comes home to find you scrubbing the walls down. “A little spring cleaning?” He’ll ask, but it becomes apparent that it’s not anything ‘little’. The house is absolutely sparkling like you just moved in. This isn’t a problem by any means, but it’s kind of suspicious because you low key hate cleaning and he happily carries the burden of these types of things on a normal day. Still, he knows what’s happening and there’s nothing he can do to stop the manic episode. He’ll just have to let you ride it out. But it won’t stop him from changing clothes and asking what’s next on your list so he can help. 

Jun

Knows he can’t do a whole lot about the typical mood swings that you have periodically, but when you tell him that some of these mood swings are not totally random and can actually be triggered, he becomes the most observant person you’ve ever met. Keeps a little list in his notes app of things that you’ve mentioned before and the things that he’s simply observed that switch your mood. He tries to help you manage your stress at work to prevent a depressive episode and encourages you to limit your caffeine intake to prevent mania. He intentionally stops buying alcohol and keeping it in the house because it’s not a good combination with your medications. He buys you a light for light therapy during the winter when the seasonal depression kicks in. He helps you find a nighttime routine that works for you so sleep disturbances aren’t so prominent. Really is the sweetest and most thoughtful.

Hoshi

Man, thinking about this one makes me emotional. Say the relationship is new, but it’s been so, so good. You match his energy so well and he really feels like you get him, you know? So he’s kind of surprised when his calls and texts go unanswered for a while. After a few days, he finally goes to your apartment, flowers, coffee, and a bag of pastries in hand just in case he did something wrong. Your roommate answers the door and points to your bedroom with an ominous warning. You look like you haven’t moved from the bed in a few days. Your clothes and sheets are wrinkled, laundry is overflowing from the hamper, and dishes are piled up on your bedside table. You come right out and tell him about your diagnosis and that you’ve been in a depressive episode, and that you’d understand if he wants to break up. He simply crawls into bed with you because it’s his turn to get you. 

Wonwoo

Listen, I genuinely believe that you can tell him anything. Quite literally anything, including when you’re having some bad thoughts. He gives you an intentionally blank look when you ask him to remove the razors from the bathroom, but immediately does it. He doesn’t ask questions when he comes back, just hugging you tight and thanking you for telling him. Trust that he’ll watch you like a hawk over the next few days, doing soft, yet somehow non-invasive check-ins. A week later when that particular feeling passes and you ask for the razors again to shave, he does ask a few questions, just to make sure you’re in a good headspace. It makes you feel secure that you have someone right there that will help you if you have to cry for help.

Woozi

He’s pretty independent and so are you, but after you tell him about your diagnosis and the medications you’re on, he becomes a bit clingy. Let me explain. Before, you could go hours, maybe even days without really hearing from him when he got busy. No big deal, you knew that was just part of it. Now, no matter what he’s doing at work or whatever timezone he might be in, he’s calling you before you go to bed to make sure you’ve taken your medication. He’ll, of course, be there to talk if you want, but you usually don’t and that’s thanks to how much the medication is doing for you. He will never, ever let you miss a day. 

DK

You know you’re in a manic episode, which is why you jumped at the chance to go out with Seokmin and a few of his members for dinner. You’re feeling good, talking rapidly and animatedly about something and Seungkwan laughs, saying something along the lines of, “Okay, motor mouth.” It kind of makes you deflate. Not that he meant anything by it, not that he knew about your diagnosis or that you were in a manic episode. Still, Seokmin is next to you, encouraging you to continue talking because he was following, no problem. He’ll always be a motor mouth with you. Even if your mood doesn’t come back as high as it was before, it’s still comforting that he’ll listen to you ramble about whatever comes to mind, even if it’s sometimes a stream of consciousness more than anything specific. 

Mingyu

It’s not like sex is uncommon in your relationship, but after you initiate multiple rounds in one night, Mingyu will sort of laugh and ask what’s gotten into you. When you stop and kind of tear up, he realizes he might have said something wrong and he’s holding onto you immediately. You tell him you’re kind of upset because you didn’t realize that you were manic until he said that. Increased libido is a common symptom for you and now you’re feeling bad for maybe pressuring him into it. He’ll squish your face and insist that you absolutely did not and he has no complaints. You can always come to him for this, or for anything for that matter. 

Minghao

Now, I think he might be a bit of a believer in home remedies for a lot of things, but not for this. Does not let you miss a counseling or psychiatrist appointment. Does not let you forget your medication. Knows by heart everything you’re taking, including the dosage. He even gets a little organizer and sorts it out for you every week. Insists that you stick to a routine and practice self-care when you’re in a manic episode and makes sure you eat, sleep, and find things to enjoy during a depressive episode. Really, genuinely might understand your disorder and what you need for it better than you do. 

Seungkwan

He knows you’ve been down and that’s just the nature of the disorder sometimes. He does little things to help you manage it - chores are taken care of, dinner is already started, medication is already picked up from the pharmacy, etc. But when you admit late at night that you don’t know why he’s with you and you feel worthless, he doesn’t have a little reaction. It makes you cry despite how numb you were feeling earlier when he squishes your face with a bit more aggression than he probably intended and in great detail tells you how much he loves you and what he loves about you and why no one else will ever compare. It’s what you needed to hear, and he makes a mental note to be more vocal about these things, particularly when you’re down. 

Vernon

You two are relaxing at home when you ask him if he can hear that sound. He’ll say no, feeling kind of clueless. You’ll frown and ask, “Are you sure? It’s so loud.” Your insistence makes him pause. “Tell me about it,” he’ll say. You’ll describe it in great detail, convincing him that you do in fact believe you’re hearing something. Will not let you feel bad about the fact that he doesn’t hear it and that it must be an auditory hallucination. He’s offering you his noise cancelling headphones to blast some music and drown out the sound until it goes away. 

Chan

You’re usually pretty easy going and agreeable. But Chan knows something is up because you’ve been picking fights left and right all day. First it was that he left a mug on the side of the sink instead of in the sink or inside the dishwasher. Okay, easy to fix next time, he thinks. Then it’s that he’s going out for lunch with a couple of his members, even though he told you yesterday, which leaves him confused. Then it’s that he didn’t appear to be listening to you when you talked at dinner. He was absolutely listening, but the way you huff angrily at him makes him approach, holding your face and asking what’s going on with you today. He won’t let you escalate this into a fight, and eventually you deflate, tearing up. You admit you’ve just been feeling restless, both physically and emotionally, and that you don’t think this new medication is doing much. He cuddles with you the rest of the night, shushing you when you say you don’t deserve it after picking fights all day, and encourages you to make an appointment to talk about your medication.

[candiiee]

ʜᴇʀᴏᴇꜱ ᴠɪʟʟᴀɪɴꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴛʜɪɴɢꜱ ᴘʀᴏʟᴏɢᴜᴇ: ɪɴɴᴏᴄᴇɴᴄᴇ ɪꜱ ꜰʀᴀɢɪʟᴇ

ɪᴢᴜᴋᴜ ᴍ

summary: your childhood

warnings: nightmares, anxiety, depression, murder, death, violence, mention of running away

an: izuku is honestly a cute beam of sunshine here in reader’s sad little life. Not proofread.

“Y/N?” His soft breaks you out of your self deprecating thoughts. You’re both sitting under a tree, watching Bakugo and his lackeys play heroes in the playground.

You look up into his soft doe eyes. “Yeah?”

“Are you okay? I..couldn’t help but notice you seemed to be sad.” Izuku says, looking concerned.

You smile in fake happiness, “I’m fine. Why aren’t you with them?” You gesture towards Bakugo with a nod of your head.

“Oh..well, cause I’m, y’know, quirkless, and stuff, he doesn’t want me to join in. Cause heroes have quirks..and they're playing heroes. Actually, why aren’t you with them?” He twiddles his fingers nervously.

You frown, “That’s stupid. You can be a hero if you wanted to Izuku. And I’m not with them cause Bakugo thinks a quirk called ‘pickpocket’ sounds villainy.”

He flushes, eyes widening, in hope you think. "Really..?" Practically ignoring what you said after.

You nod, "You can be one, Izuku." Secretly wishing he would assure you that your quirk wasn’t evil, but it’s not like you could talk.

He blinks, a bunch of unreadable emotions going through him. "Thank you.."

You pause, "What time is it? I think I have to go now." He frowns, "You haven't even been here that long." You pause, thinking of a lie.

"Er..I have an appointment." You say, hoping he believes it.

He pauses not quite believing it, but too nice to pry. "Ok..see you tomorrow?" He asks hopefully.

You smile and nod, relieved he somewhat believed you. "I'll try." He hoped he wouldn't question how and why you planned on going home. Or how you even got here at the park for that matter.

Yep, nothing suspicious about a five year old going to a park all by themselves.

You waved bye, “Bye Izuku.” As you left, you passed by Bakugo, and stuck your tongue out.

He glares at, looking like he’s about to say something, but you’re too far to hear it.

The walk home is adventurous. Following your parent’s advice, use and ‘practice’ your quirk’s abilities by ‘borrowing’ wallets. You knew it was wrong. But your daily practice helped your family get by. Granted, the least they could do was be proud of you for helping.

You make it home, dumping your pockets contents, save for some 5 dollar bills. “Mom.” You say, announcing your arrival.

Just another normal day as a low rank thief.

—————

You’re eight now. With a bigger knowledge of the world and reality then any child should know. Using your quirk everyday to see what’s inside other’s pockets, then pickpocketing it.

Downright evil. You can’t help but feel glad Izuku won’t ever get to know. He’d try to save you or whatever.

You still continue meeting up with him at the park, playing together. Even though he would probably like to visit you, and maybe a bit hurt that you refuse.

That is, till you see your parents die.

A completely normal day. Mother hits you for not meeting the quota. You don’t cry. You’re used to it.

Your dad doesn’t show up till late night, and frantic. He immediately starts packing up after a brief conversation with your mom and a lot of yelling. Soon your mom joins in, telling you to make yourself useful and help.

So you do. And right in the process of stuffing your saved and stolen money into all your pockets, you hear someone banging on the door.

And who could that be, so late at night? And why did your parents look so terrified?

“We’re too late.” Your mother utters, standing still in terror. “Late?” You question.

That snaps her out of it. “Hide in the cupboards. Now.”

You blink, “Why?”

“Just do it!”

More banging, and curses.

She grabs your old stuffed dog toy, long discarded, and shoves it into your hands. “Don’t make a sound, and hang onto that.”

She pushes you into a cramped cupboard, and you protest. “Stay here and if you hear anything, don’t scream, don’t cry, don’t make a sound. Got it?”

You blink in shock, “Why..?”

She deeply inhales, “Your father borrowed money from people, bad people. So now they want to hurt him. And they don’t care who. So hide.”

That shuts you up. You nod, and your mother sighs, “Good. And don’t come out till you hear absolutely nothing.” She pauses, and the door breaks. “I love you.” She closes the door, and leaves you in darkness.

You hear screaming, and gunshots. It makes you jump, and you close your eyes shut. You dare to crack the door, just a bit.

What you see makes you wish you had obeyed. Your blood runs cold. Your dad lies dead, bleeding from his head, eyes lifeless but wide open.

Your mom was a gun pressed against her head.

“Where’s the money!” The man, at least you think is on, barks.

“U-under the mattress!” Your mom manages to say.

Which she would be right. If not for the fact that while you were packing up, you had grabbed it and put it in your pockets. You stiffen. If your mom died, her blood would be on you.

One of the men stormed into your shared room. A bunch of noises of things getting tossed around, and he returned, shaking his head. “Nuthin.”

The man cocks the gun. “Last chance.”

“I don’t know!” She cries. The gun goes off. And your mom falls over in a pool of her own blood.

You almost cried out and got out of the darn cupboard. But you remember her words.

You wanted to go out there and kill them. But now is not the time. You grip the stuffie, practically strangling it.

You wake up in a cold sweat. You blink. Oh right. You are not eight anymore. You are seventeen, had some kills under your belt, and was living in a shoddy abandoned shed on the top of a rooftop.

You rub your eyes, thinking about how somehow, your eight year old self had stuffed everything they could into a backpack, opened the window and never looked back.

You even still had that darn stuffie. It was a miracle you had lived this long. No thanks to heroes.

Today was a new day of stealing, maybe killing if anyone got in your way. Granted, you had already gotten your revenge by slitting their throats with a knife, after a long three years of stalking.

And you did feel guilty for indirectly being the reason your mother died. And maybe the authorities were on your tail. But you had outrun them. Maybe. Probably.

You sigh, surveying your scars on your arm. Caused by getting into knife fights with low rank scum.

You get off the floor and your sad excuse of a mattress, and start your day.

@candiiee 2024

Taglist:

@kimyoudraft hereee

@dokidokidraft heree

[adyophene]

lucifer x husk is something i never knew i needed and as a multishipper im screaming

literally. king of hell x some alcoholic furry guy

i love them i need to know how they wouldve met, fallen for each other and started dating. and how much thatd piss alastor off

Ooh I am so happy other people are enjoying this pair as much as I am! I've gotten a few asks about my headcanons for them, and I am happy to blab on and on. Fair warning. This is gunna be a long and rambling essay.

I'm gunna put it all under a readmore, just cause I want to insert the art I've done of them so far, since I've been half-heartedly trying to tell a visual story through the doodles.

Okay. On we go!

How they met;

We did see them technically meet in the show, where they shared their singular canon piece of dialogue, which was just Husk saying 'hey'. And then in the finale where we see a literal split second moment of Lucifer holding Husk's arm.

(also seeing the sweet looks huskerdust is giving each other here just makes me feel so delulu for writing this all, but crackships are silly by definition, so lets get back to the lucihusk) For me, what I imagined, is after the Hotel is finished its rebuilding, that is when Husk and Lucifer finally actually meet in a proper manner. I think Lucifer would be trying to make a good impression on all Charlie's friends at this point, endeared to all of them from their actions during the finale. Unfortunately, I think he is also the King of Bad First Impressions.

[Note. I think at this point Lucifer wouldn't even remember Husk's name quite yet. I think he would call him 'Keekee' ( by accident) or 'Dusk' (confidently incorrect) or just be like "Hey!.... Uh... You?" until Charlie or Vaggie finally corrected him. ]

Husk, on the other hand, I feel like maybe wouldn't gel with Lucifer right away. Wouldn't hate him, but also maybe not be enamored with him right away. Same as Lucifer, maybe he would have sweetened on him a bit through the hotel's rebuilding, but I think they'd start out at very neutral feelings. Maybe a vague sense of 'He's okay, but I don't know if we will really get along.'

Despite this, Lucifer is persistent, and he's going to be everyone's (except maybe Al, unless they start getting along by s2) buddy. He'd start hanging around the bar and participate in the redemption exercises.

Now, we know Lucifer struggles with depression, and I think he would be trying real hard to mask anything going on during this time. They defeated Adam! They rebuilt the Hotel! He believes in Charlie's dream, and he's more involved with her life and other people than he has been for years.

His only issue being Husk sees right through it, both because Husk is perceptive, but also because even the King of Hell can't help but have a lonely night or two at the bar where he ends up venting about his divorce and subsequent lingering loneliness.

[snapcube ref aside, )I really do think Husk would start to feel more positively toward Lucifer after Luci would drop the act somewhat. That they could bond over feeling both at their lowest of lows, while also being to admit that things seem to be getting better!

This would be about the point that I imagine Lucifer developing more romantic feelings! Husk would be a bit less prickly, and Luci would just absolutely eat up any and all positive interactions they'd have. I like to picture a lot of little shows of care at the this point, like Husk memorizing what Lucifer likes and even making up 'fun' drinks just to try and cheer the guy up. And Lucifer would fun a fun game in trying to get the grumpy cat to smile, and just, lighting up himself any time he was successful.

And that culminating into the two of them making each other laugh, with Alastor being an easy butt of the jokes, and a good way for Husk, himself, to finally get a chance to vent. I think Lucifer would be one of the only 'safe' options for Husk to do that with, in just so far as Al can't really threaten Lucifer, and Lucifer already sees Al as a bit of a manipulative bastard.

Falling for each other; At this point, Lucifer would start being a bit more caring toward Husk, though with that wonderful, oblivious flair of his. I don't think Lucifer himself would realize he'd have a crush up until he'd start feeling protective or jealous over Husk, and it would really throw him for a loop at first.

Because fake dating is one of my all-time favorite tropes, I have always had a idea for a fanfic (or comic) that I haven't gotten around to yet, based around Lilith coming back, and Lucifer panickily asking Husk to pretend to be his boyfriend, so he can appear well adjusted/completely over her. Of course the whole thing would backfire, as Lilith would see through it (as Lucifer wouldn't be as good of an actor as he'd think), and that Husk would end up kind of feeling hurt by the whole thing.

Husk, who'd go along with the plot with an eyeroll, would find himself seizing up through the whole fake date/encounter. Would find weird, sudden emotions bubbling up and absolutely hating it.

I don't think that man would think about the class difference between him and Lucifer up until someone would say something about it, maybe Lucifer himself trying to rationalize the (at this time still fake) relationship to Lilith. Now, Husk feels uneasy about the whole thing and ends up drinking heavily the whole night so he doesn't have to think about feelings. (Blitz and Stolas who? Ahaha. fuck.) Meanwhile, while the date would be fake, I think Lucifer would really rather like having Husk on his arm and feeling like he'd have a love-life again, while also not really getting why Husk's mood would be getting worse throughout the night. I think they'd still end up on good terms, but both of them would have their feelings in a jumble, and Husk would not like it. (he thinks he's lost the ability to love, after all)

I think somewhere at this point, as they are starting to develop feelings for one another, is when Lucifer finally starts really realizing how tied to Alastor Husk is, and he starts to make it everyone's problem. I do think Al and Lucifer would stay snarky at each other this whole time, but that it'd only get worse, as Al would poke back since he'd find Lu's over reactions funny.

I also think Al would be maybe the last person to realize anything romantic would be brewing between Lucifer and Husk, and he'd just think it'd be a purely platonic thing.

Beyond just bitching about Alastor, Lucifer would really be ramping up his attention towards Husk too. Fully in that 'puppylove/crush' stage, and trying his darndest to make Husk feel good and special. Husk would be resistant to it all, thinking it would just be Lucifer rebounding hard, and not wanting to get wrapped up in Morningstar family drama when he could happily (miserably) keep his head down and just keep drinking the days away.

But then Lucifer would find out about Husk's love of stage magic, and his history as a performer, and it'd be all over for the catman. It would become Luci's new pet project to rope Husk into some joyful self-expression, and after a song and dance number's worth of convincing, Husk would start to come around. I have to post all these images now cause- I drew them with the intention of mimicking a musical number! Husk starting off as a bit resistant before jumping in whole heartedly, and Lucifer overexcitedly dragging him along throughout the music number, hyping him up and just all around being smitten.

And this is where Husk would start really falling. Getting swept up in indulging his favorite, least destructive hobby, and having someone who absolutely loves it to bond with. Especially when it would be over. When they would just settle down and talk, and laugh, and bond over what they love about performing. The spectacle, the audience, the love of the craft. Its about the comradery!!!

@belladonazeppole wrote a wonderful series of fanfics based off these pictures, as well as the songs from 'The Greatest Showman' that really fit the ship! I would be remiss to not mention them here, because Bella and their fics are just wonderful!

How they started dating;

Now. Don't think just cause they both caught feelings for each other, that they'd immediately admit to it. No. I think both of them would drag their heels. I don't think Husk would admit to them at all, without some outside force effecting it. I think he'd stubbornly try to ignore the crush or drink it away, rather than let his heart become vulnerable to anymore damage.

Meanwhile, Lucifer would be struggling between his feelings for Husk and Lilith. (In the actual canon, I do think they might try to rekindle things, depending on what kind of person Lilith turns out to be, but I digress.) Part of him would be so swept up in a giddy kind of excitement, while the other would be set firmly in the camp of 'this is a bad idea, this won't work out, just look at what happened to your last relationship'. It wouldn't stop him from being outwardly more and more affectionate, but it would be weighing on him.

I do think Lucifer would end up being the one who would be thinking; "What am I doing. He'd never like me back." While Husk would be just sitting there (echoing what was said in the ask- sorry I went all wild and wrote this much about the ship dear god)- "I'm just some fucking furry alcoholic, what the fuck would the king of hell see in me??? Am I delusional? What the fuck is going on??" And I feel like this stage would go on for MONTHS and drive everyone else nuts. It would be clear to everyone (except Alastor, who again, would be just this meme

Though that wouldn't stop him from getting a little pissy about it) And then it would all come to a head during something benign, like a board game night. There would be flirting, there would be jealousy, there would be arguing, and then finally, loudly and with a lot of feeling, Lucifer would shout his way through asking Husk out on a date. A real Date. A capital 'D' date out on the town, dressed to the nines and a real good time. The board would be knocked over in the fray, game pieces raining down upon them while Husk would just stare blank faced, trying to process what just happened. An awkward half-minute would pass before he'd finally, trying to play it cool, shrug out a 'sure'.

How much it'd piss Alastor off;

In the aftermath, a radio static would just lowly grate everyone's ears as Alastor would be slowly coming to terms on how just annoying it would be to have his friend (/Unhealthy co-dependent pet friend possession??) romantically involved (ew) with the King of Hell (double ew)??? Then, either it would be something light hearted like 'he keeps trying to break them up but failing cause he hates interacting with romance' or a darker route where 'he keeps trying to manipulate them into breaking up by preying on all their worst insecurities in the relationship'.

And that, my friend, is all I have in mind so far for this delusional crackship au! There is more I could flesh out, of course, like Angel's role as a friend or potential third in the relationship, or what I imagine as Husk becoming like a stepdad to Charlie, but I've typed enough for the whole month. Hope any of that was coherent! I did not bother to edit or proof read it. Just pure stream of consciousness.

[mins-fins]

hey jane — [ na jaemin — 엔시티. ]

where you just so happen to flirt with.. death? how does that work? | now playing ❥

you're staring down your lifeless body which currently makes home on the kitchen floor.

how the fuck did that happen?

three hours ago, you just so happened to accomplish three things; getting an invite to your crushes party, making out with said crush whilst inebriated, and garnering said crush's number. if you remember exactly, you had a date with jeno the next day, you returned home with an irregular feat of happiness carrying your expression.

so why exactly are you now observing your corpse on your very own kitchen floor?

cereal.

you got home at about two in the morning, fucking starving and nothing but cereal atop the fridge. a wobbly chair and legs giving out later, your head just happened to make contact with your kitchen island, dealing a painful final blow.

at least it was quick.

"right before my date?" you whine into the air, hands coming to feel your now frozen face as you sigh. there's nobody around to hear your excessive complaints, did you really have to perish before successfully getting into lee jeno's pants.

from behind you, a chorus of clapping sounds.

"pure entertainment, dying because you wanted cereal at two am" when you turn around, your facial muscles scrunch at the sight of a random man standing in your apartment. his hair is purely white, a contrast to his all black attire. your eyes narrow, half convinced this whole thing is a methodically crafted dream. his lips take an upturn, and you candidly realize that your death is amusing to him. that bastard. "couldn't miss such a thing, has to swing by to watch in dear time".

"haha, yes my death was so funny".

he offers a curt snort. "of course".

your nose aptly crinkles, and you suck your teeth. "and who the hell are you?"

"death".

your brows furrow. "death?" you're aware this shouldn't be your most concerning thought, but you can expressly gauge at how attractive he is, eyeing him up and down in a typical non-death fashion, as if he's simply going out to a local convenience store, as if he is human. "aren't you supposed to wear a black cloak and shit?"

he shrugs. "i can wear whatever i want".

"shouldn't you be all bones too?"

in a terrifying manner, a smile splits on his pristine features, eyelids retaining a void of darkness. "i'll have you know that there is a lot of meat on my bones".

you narrow your eyes, irked by the statement. "so how do i know that you're actually death then?"

the man presents an eerie grin, standing to his feet and taking several steps closer. you hesitate as you take a step back, feeling an encapsulating depression which appears to physically affecting your state. his eyes are bottomless pits which hold.. nothing.

you stop, keeping distance as you make contact with your own corpse on the floor. "okay.. do you have another name besides.. death?"

he again smiles, somewhat pure, mostly strange. "you can call me jaemin" he pinches your cheek, arms folding over his chest.

"alright".

it appears your now instated terror excites him, his eyes gleaming as if he's looking down upon you, lording his superiority over you with such a fit of normalcy. "do you know what i'm here for, sweetheart?"

a chill unexpectedly runs down your spine at the spontaneous uttering of the pet name, you don't expect a sudden change of atmosphere, strange sensations sticking against your skin. "uh— i mean.. you're gonna suck out my soul i think".

he again smiles, snickering at himself. "well aren't you clever?"

you clear your throat, paying a glance to your body on the floor, you're such a fucking idiot. "so.. are you going to?"

it finally seems that you've disturbed his usual tranquil nature, as he blinks in a clear fit of disturbance. "what? you're not gonna beg for your soul back or something?"

you allow for your tense shoulders to drop, then they rise again as you opt to shrug. "i mean— death is death right? aren't you gonna give me a whole speech about how i can't change fate?"

jaemin tilts his head, observing you for a moment before he once more allows for amusement to chief his expression. "well i'm offering, you could.." as he contemplates on his next few words, his fingers make home on the seams of your hair strands. "do something for me, and you'll be able to go on a date with that cute boy tomorrow".

you flinch at his cold breath tickling your ear, his smile remaining permanent. your mind wanders, stuck on jeno and that fucking date you were so excited for before you decided to be an idiot that got themselves killed. "what? like a bargain?"

he giggles. "something like that.."

you've heard of several bargains in your lifetime, there does not appear to be anything of a loophole in this one. "so what is this.. something?"

"ohh, so you really want that date huh?"

you click your tongue, catching sight of his abnormally shaped teeth, molars sharpened as if he'll take a bite into you at any moment. "are you hitting on me?"

he licks his own teeth. "ohh, i must've been too obvious".

"that's unruly, i'm an almost taken man".

"almost is selling it, poor jeno's going to be in for a surprise when he comes around with those flowers".

your face drops, a certain thought continuously circling through your mind. "couldn't i have died after the date?" you complain.

"should've just slept with him at the party, but.."

you whip your head towards him. "but what?"

jaemin sighs, tongue prodding at the side of his cheek. "you could give me a kiss".

you laugh, but you realize, smile wiped away from his face altogether. "you're serious?"

he hums. "better than the other thing i had planned".

your cheeks go a bright red at that implication. "is there a catch?"

"well of course not".

you can't believe anything which comes out of his mouth. "really? all you want me to do for you to put my soul back in my body is a kiss?"

he raises an eyebrow. "is that so shocking?"

"not even humans are that generous".

jaemin hums, hopping on top your kitchen island as he swings his legs back and forth. "i can sit here while you make your pretty mind, we have all night baby".

baby registers a questionable stir, but you attempt to present obstinacy either way. you have time, you should.. think.

but really, what kind of choice do you have?

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I don’t know if you already wrote about this so forgive me if this is a repeat question but, what do you think about Leona’s depression? I feel it’s pretty obvious in game and yet it’s always glossed over as him being ‘lazy’ idk but I don’t find many talking about his really shitty mental health with any seriousness.

Surprisingly I haven't addressed this (at least not in detail)! So thank you for bringing this to my attention; I definitely feel like I've heard people (especially Leona fans) discuss this quite frequently. If you look in the right places, you’re sure to find insightful commentary on the subject! I know I certainly have, but I've yet to say my own piece on it yet.

Now, before I actually get to actually rambling, I want to preface this post with a few points so we can walk in knowing the perspective I'm coming from. Analysis isn't a "one size fits all"! My experiences and background will color the lenses through which I view Leona’s mental health.

First and foremost, I usually don't go out of my way to claim, "this character has X condition" beyond what is outright stated or implied in canon. That does NOT mean that I disapprove of fans who may have their headcanons that say otherwise or project onto or relate to characters' mental health. You can consume the media you like however you want! I am just saying that I don't have this preference so I feel somewhat uncomfortable speaking on this matter.

Secondly, I am trying to approach this situation from a very clinical viewpoint (as I do have knowledge in this area). This means that when I look for “implications” or read between the lines, I am doing so as objectively as I can. It’s how I choose to process and understand characters from a health angle. This does not mean that my opinion is certain; you could very well find someone else in this area that gives you the opposite opinion. As always, I warn you that my response is for fun, it is NOT meant to be taken as medical advice.

Lastly, PLEASE READ THE ENTIRE POST before you comment or share your own thoughts. I'm up for having a discussion, but I ask that you not do so without getting the full context of my thoughts. It’s a lot of information, and I did my best to break it down in a way that (I hope!!) is easy to understand.

CONTENT WARNING: due to the nature of the question at hand, I will be discussing or mentioning potentially triggering topics such as ***depression, suicidal ideation, dieting, homophobia, and substance abuse.*** Please look away if you are not in the right headspace to read about such topics.

Okay, let's rip the band-aid off now: I don't think Leona is clinically depressed.

Pause. Rewind. Take note of my careful wording there: clinically depressed. I don't think Leona is clinically depressed. What does that mean, and how does that relate to "being depressed"?

I think when people describe Leona as "depressed", they commonly mean that he "has depression", not that he is just feeling sad or has low self-esteem. By "having depression", I'm going to assume they are referring to "major depressive disorder", which is the technical term for the condition.

"It's just an abbreviation of the longer term. What's the issue with using 'depression'?” you're probably wondering. “You understand that we mean major depressive disorder.” Well, equating the two does NOT a diagnosis make.

Mental conditions such as major depressive disorder are documented in a handbook known as the DSM (or the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders). The latest version, the DSM-5-TR (5th edition with text revisions), was published in 2022. The DSM is a manual that sets forth criteria for each diagnosis in its pages. Of course, this includes major depressive disorder—and it may surprise you to learn that Leona does not meet its diagnostic criteria.

A diagnosis of "depression" (the term I will henceforth be using as shorthand for the disorder) is much more than having persistent feelings of sadness or hopelessness, being unmotivated/lazy, and wanting to sleep often. (I bring up these three things specifically because they are the ones I see being pointed at most frequently to “prove” the diagnosis.)

In order to be formally diagnosed, an individual must be experiencing at least 5 or more of the following symptoms during the same 2-week period:

Depressed mood most of the day, nearly every day.

Markedly diminished interest or pleasure in all, or almost all, activities most of the day, nearly every day.

Significant weight loss when not dieting or weight gain, or decrease or increase in appetite nearly every day.

A slowing down of thought and a reduction of physical movement (observable by others, not merely subjective feelings of restlessness or being slowed down).

Fatigue or loss of energy nearly every day.

Feelings of worthlessness or excessive or inappropriate guilt nearly every day.

Diminished ability to think or concentrate, or indecisiveness, nearly every day.

Recurrent thoughts of death, recurrent suicidal ideation without a specific plan, or a suicide attempt or a specific plan for committing suicide.

At least one of the symptoms should be either 1) depressed mood or 2) loss of interest or pleasure in activities they previously found enjoyable. Furthermore, the symptoms must cause what is known as "clinically significant distress", which is defined by impairment in important areas of functioning. This includes, but is not limited to, socialization, occupation, and/or education. The symptoms must also not be the result of substance abuse or another medical condition, and the individual must ever have experienced mania or hypomania.

Let’s briefly go through each criterion + additional documents and see what evidence there is or isn’t to support it:

We do not have his medical records to cross reference, so for the sake of convenience let’s assume no underlying or additional medical conditions.

We must consider additional context about family, lifestyle, etc. which can confound his symptoms. For example, as a prince, Leona has grown up having most things done for him by servants. This is what he is used to. So when we observe Leona not doing basic things for himself (getting food, doing laundry, making his bed), how much of this can we truly attribute to an underlying condition and how much of this can we attribute to Leona being accustomed to a certain kind of lifestyle?

Leona (at least from what we know of) does not experience mania, nor is he depicted as taking mind or behavior altering substances.

Of the first two criteria, Leona must fit into one: either 1) depressed mood most of the day, nearly every day, or 2) markedly diminished interest or pleasure in all, or almost all, activities most of the day, nearly every day. These depend on how you interpret his actions and behaviors. Personally, I don’t think Leona strongly fits into 2 because he still has an interest in his hobbies like Magift/Spelldrive and playing chess (though his involvement in it varies depending on the context). I will concede that there is stronger evidence for 1 over 2, as Leona has definitely expressed sadness and despair regarding himself and his future prospects. It is these thoughts that drive him away from home and keep contact with his family at a minimum. It is these thoughts that prevent him from seeing himself as worthy or even capable of change—a sentiment he shares in book 6, when he encourages Jamil but does not grant himself the same kindness or optimism. For this reason, we will go with the first criterion.

He has not experienced notable weight loss nor gain, nor a notable increase or decrease in appetite. Regarding his general diet, Leona has expressed a preference for meat and rejects vegetables. This by itself does not really provide any useful information in of itself; many people have this preference.

Leona does not experience a slowing down of thought. He is still very sharp and quick-witted in responding to his surroundings, especially in potentially dangerous ones, and coming up with an appropriate plan to counter. It can be argued that Leona has had a reduction in physical movement, as many characters often make remarks about how they perceive him as lazy or not doing much. However, this criterion actually refers to the speed at which one completes an activity and as far as I know, Leona is not said to be moving sluggishly, he only conducts himself in a manner that can be described as "lazily elegant". Even if we stretched the definition to encompass long-term goals he is putting off (like graduation), this criteria is still not counted for Leona since the wording used in the DSM-5-TR states “slowing down of thought AND reduction in physical movement” must be present. In other words, both must be true, not just one of them.

Leona does seem to experience some level of fatigue or loss of energy. This could be one way of interpreting his desire to sleep excessively instead of tending to more meaningful matters (like class). Fatigue, in this case, can also refer to emotional or mental fatigue. The sleep, then, can serve as a means of escape from reality for Leona, but it does not indicate actual physical tiredness. Rather, the tiredness can be intangible. This is also a potential explanation for his lack of motivation when it comes to some activities, especially those that demand him to take charge.

Leona does appear to experience feelings of worthlessness, though perhaps not excessive or inappropriate guilt. In fact, I would wager Leona does not demonstrate the latter, although this could be attributed to the fact that we are not in his head and he does not open up to others about his feelings. For example, we still don't know what his feelings are on almost killing Ruggie in a fit of rage. This does not discredit this criterion though, as the wording in the DSM is “feelings of worthlessness OR […] guilt” meaning one or the other suffices. It is no secret that Leona seeks recognition for his skills—something he was denied as a child and even put down for. While he is aware of his strengths, he has moments when he doubts himself (stating that he can’t change, or giving up when he realizes his plans won’t work so what’s the point in trying?), the contributions he can make (even when his older brother reassures him he can help their country), and encouragement from others (Jack telling him his play inspired him).

As I've said before, Leona does not have a diminished ability to think or concentrate. It has been shown to us time and time again that he doesn't do schoolwork not for lack of trying or lack of understanding, but because he thinks of himself as above it. Leona has already been tutored by the finest teachers royal money can buy, so he believes there is not much else for him to learn. He is also not shown to be indecisive--he can make decisions very quickly and can guide others or at least convince them to go along with him.

Leona does not have suicidal ideation or have recurring thoughts of committing suicide/death. While it's true that this is a game rated for ages 4+ (and therefore has restrictions on what content is and is not allowed in it), TWST has demonstrated to us that there are ways to imply suicidal ideation and other dark themes without explicitly saying it. (One notable example is Idia in late book 6, where he drops lines like "I'll go with you" and expresses dissatisfaction with "this world" to Ortho, who is known to be dead. To this, Ortho reassures him and encourages him to keep living. In fact, I could go on a whole tangent about how Idia better fits the criteria for major depressive disorder, but we're not going to get into that here.) The fact that TWST does not really imply this about Leona makes me think this is not true of him.

It can be said that the symptoms Leona does have are clinically significant, as his behavior is shown to have significant impact on his studies to the point where he was held back a grade. This was not because he did not know the material, but because he failed to find the motivation to attend class and to do his assignments. It also appears that Leona didn't really make an effort to work toward his future until book 7, when he actually talks his internship plans and about wanting to graduate.

We may guess that the symptoms persisted for two weeks or more (given Leona’s history and involvement in the main story), but the frequency of the symptoms is unclear since the game controls what we see of Leona and what we don’t.

Taking all of that into consideration, Leona does in fact exhibit depressive symptoms, but only 3 at most (I say “at most” because we have no idea about the true frequency at which some behaviors occur; we aren’t with Leona 24/7, nor has he reported it to us) out of the 8 total criteria. That’s 2 short of a diagnosis.

“But wait, there’s a lot of information missing here! We don’t have medical records, his weight and appetite changes, etc.” That’s true—but see, the main issue I take with diagnosing fictional characters in the first place is that we oftentimes do not know a character in detail enough to understand the full scope of their lives and symptoms. Noticing a few details is one thing and valid to an extent, but to evaluate an individual is not purely observational. This is particularly true for TWST characters, as even though there is plenty of content to refer back to for behavior, there is still a lack of really going into daily activities or deep feelings (beyond the one post-OB flashback for the OB boys). We cannot observe their behavior extensively. Because of this, tons of key criteria may not be visible to us from the audience’s perspective, let alone a medical history or other data to consider for assessment. We will almost always have an incomplete profile of a fictional character. Health is holistic and not entirely based on what we as individuals see or on all anecdotal evidence.

Just as health considers all parts of the individual, we, too, must consider individual cases of depression. It is possible for depression to exist without a diagnosis—many people (especially older adults), unfortunately, go undiagnosed for their condition. At the same time, it is possible for Leona to have depression which manifests in an atypical way. Each person with depression presents differently than the last, so I so not intend to make any blanket statements about the general population with this condition. The only statement I am making here is that based on my own interpretation of the current lore TWST has granted is, Leona Kingscholar does not satisfy the criteria for a formal clinical diagnosis, at least not for major depressive disorder as is defined by the DSM-5-TR.

Interestingly, Leona does fit the diagnostic criteria for a subclinical form of depression in a 1994 version of the DSM (IV). Minor depression or minor depressive disorder, colloquially known as “everyday depression”, is defined as having 2–4 depressive symptoms persisting for more than 2 weeks. One of these symptoms must be either depressed mood or loss of interest. It should be noted that this terminology is no longer recognized, as new information is added and dropped from the manual all the time. The information is flexible based on the consensus of a panel of hundreds of experts. Older versions of the DSM can be horribly outdated and it is not advised to reference them over newer ones. (As an example, "homosexuality" was legitimately listed as a mental illness in the very first version of the DSM. Yikes. Thankfully, this was dropped from the DSM-II. Other conditions like "multiple personality disorder" are granted new names like "dissociative identity disorder" or reworked altogether as our studies and understanding of mental health and science improve. It is important to keep up with the research coming out and update our approaches accordingly.)

We do not currently have a label for Leona’s situation aside from perhaps experiencing depressive episodes (periods of notable sadness lasting under 2 weeks) and exhibiting some depressive symptoms. I must stress that just because we lack a full-blown diagnosis, it doesn’t mean that it doesn’t impact his life. Leona is shown to very clearly be struggling with his mental health. He spends a lot of time in bed, typically cannot be motivated to attend class or do complete assignments, and has moments where he thinks very lowly of himself in spite of the confidence he exudes to others. What's more is that because Leona does not speak to others about what he's going through, it comes off as laziness or arrogance to his peers. Think of it this way: if you have a bad day and snap at a stranger or an acquaintance, the stranger/acquaintance is far less likely to grant you grace or forgiveness for your behavior compared to, say, a friend. They are not as familiar with you, so they will have less patience and are less likely to consider what you may be going through on a personal level. This also applies on a fandom level; if a fan is not actively reading between the lines, they, like Leona's peers, may miss the depressive symptoms he is displaying because they aren't looking for it. How many people can we say are close friends with Leona for him to open up to them about his circumstances? I would say Leona barely even lets his own dorm members be intimate enough with him to let them know about this part of himself. He has Savanaclaw backing him, but he probably does not talk to the mobs extensively. Ruggie is his errand boy, but I doubt Leona pours his heart out to him. And Jack is the newbie who did technically betray their dorm, so Leona might not trust him. Forget about people beyond his dorm. Even his family is not much better off; we've seen that Leona tends to brush off his brother's friendliness and attempts to make amends. There is no strong support system in place for him, which is tricky because Leona perpetuates it by keeping others at bay. In the light novel adaptation of book 2, Leona has an inner monologue about how he is afraid of letting others give him hope because it will encourage him to try again, only to fail another time. I imagine similar logic applies here; he is afraid of showing his vulnerable side because it might give him hope for change when he as late as book 6 expresses that he has given up on himself. I think that this is the detail about Leona most look to when they consider his mental health. The hallmark of depression is, after all, the feeling of perpetual sadness and despair itself. Most do not realize that other factors are considered.

From a clinical lens, it is not “obvious" that Leona is depressed. However, I understand why the prevailing sentiment tends to skew in the opposite direction. For the layman, it may be difficult to distinguish what is and is not clinically significant enough to warrant an actual diagnosis. Again, most will cite the same three pieces of information to support the depression reading: Leona's irritability, his unwillingness to participate, and the rejection he experienced as a child (which has now manifested as self-doubt and low self-esteem). Characters are often judged based on fans' own experiences, and this naturally comes with biases and subjectivity. Thus, some fans may project their own understanding or preconceived notions of what the "typical" depressed person acts like in their head onto Leona. This is normal human empathy at play. I believe that other fans see depression in Leona either because they experience it themselves or are familiar with someone in the same shoes. It can be difficult, and at times we can find solace and solidarity in fiction, especially if we find a character that “speaks to us” and seems relatable. That character may be Leona for some people. If you see do see him in this light or relate to his situation, I’m not invalidating your feelings. On the contrary, I'm happy that you were able to find comfort in him and that a piece of media you love can serve as a coping mechanism. You keep on doing you!

It is at this point that I will reiterate what I said at the start with a little extra nuance: I do not think Leona clinically depressed BUT I do believe he has depressive symptoms and poor mental health as the result of his cumulative circumstances. It is possible for him to have major depressive disorder, but we cannot determine this for certain with the information available to us right now. We are still missing several key components that would typically be considered in the evaluation process.

I think it's important to step back from focusing on labels and instead focus on the individual experience, and how you can still grow as a person and not let a perceived label define you. Leona is definitely working on himself! Changing, particularly changing a deeply ingrained mindset, takes much time and effort. We may not see the progress since Leona tends to hide it and/or we have limited intractions with him. We may not always see giant strides because the process is difficult. Even so, Leona is trying to jump over those mental and emotional hurdles. He's putting his all back into Magift/Spelldrive training. He's attending classes and doing the assignments. He's going home for the holidays. He has an internship planned. He wants to graduate. I've enjoyed following Leona's journey of growth and self-development and seeing all the intense discussion surrounding that. It all comes from a place of love and wanting to support the characters we care about, no matter how we may individually view him.

[phinkslave]

haii , may I request yandere!sukuna X gender-neutral reader with the prompt 30 and 34 ? :3 -🎀

No Where to go

30. “I’m bigger, faster, stronger, do you really wanna do this right now?”

34. “Watch your tone.”

Okay guys i think im getting the hang of tumblr, once again any feedback is appreciated 💞. btw requests like this is fine ofcc, but i hope that in future requests, if you guys could please be a bit more specific, like idk if you want smut in this fic or not n so on so forgive me 😓💔. but anyway enjoyyy. (this writing stuff is lwk so hard)

warnings: detailed violence, described gore, implied oral sex, (yandere?) sukuna, degrading, language

Sukuna, The King of Curses, was also known as a heartless king. Mainly known for showing no mercy, killing without a second thought, no remorse or regret ever seen in his eyes. Choosing people to be his slave, choosing people to work for him, to slave around for him. Everyday these people would be killed, no one would be spared. Though y/n changed that.

__________________________________________

Today was the day. Today was the selection. Shibuya has been taken over by King Sukuna for about 3 months now, all hope lost. Each week he picks around 50 more people to serve him as he kills them so often. It seems to never be enough, and whatever he wants he gets. The only person to ever be tolerated by him was his loyal dog, Uraume, mainly known to be cooking Sukuna all his meals. She’s also the only one who calls King Sukuna, Master Sukuna. The only one he’ll ever truly trust.

“Do you wish for your death?.” It’s Uraume.

Her voice bringing me out of my thoughts, i quickly look around me seeing everyone in my single filed line has been bowed down as I remain standing. If looks could kill…i’d be dead.

“Forgive me Lady Uraume! I wasn’t thinking.” Quickly getting on the floor to pay my respects. My life is on the line.

“Hmph. You weaklings never do. If it was up to me, I would already have killed you. You’d clearly be of no use.” She continued to walk down your line, carefully observing everyone. Creating different piles, specified of either people of old age or ones who have disabilities. Who knew such a calm tone could make you tremble more than any angry voice could. Oh how I wish I was strong. I hate being weak…. .

After around 10 more minutes, with someone even being yelled at for apparently looking up for only 5 seconds, everyone was ordered to stand and we were being led to a huge building. As we walked, the groups of old people were pleading for their lives as everyone knew what was about to happen to them, i couldn’t help but shut out their depressing cries. This was all too much, we need help. Walking, everyone’s shackles connected to the person in front and the person behind. Controlling our pace, controlling our movement. Surely for how much longer can we really continue without dying? The closer you got to the building, the more you felt the amount of cursed energy pile up. I can’t do this. I would rather die than even enter the cursed energy fully. Not everyone could feel it since most of them are normal people, but us sorcerers, we couldn’t help but tremble. Knowing what was awaiting us.

__________________________________________

Approaching a large Hikone, giant double doors opened at once, energy flooding out, as I felt mine somewhat fade. This power? This amount?? How is this possible???

“Attention insects!” Uraumes voice boomed. Sucks she has a hideous personality, she’s actually really pretty. “You are now entering the presence of your Lord. King Sukuna. From here on out, you have no purpose in life. Your only purpose is to serve him, to accommodate all his needs. If he says to bring him an item, you will! If he says to end your life, whether with your bare hands or with a sword provided to you, you will! And with no hesitation. Now, pay your respects!” By the time Uraume was done, i along with everyone else was already on the floor, ‘paying their respects’.

“Look at me.” His voice, caused every single nerve that ran down ur back twitch. Everyone looked up, though no one dared to look into his eyes, some immediately crying and begging for their lives.

I look up. There he is. Some stupid smug grin on his face. He enjoys killing. He enjoys being a monster. He enjoys tormenting the weak.

“All of those who just spoke without my permission. Step up. Now.” Four people slowly stood up, their knees almost giving in. “Are u trying to fool me? Do you think I am some idiot? I have many eyes for fucks sake. Stand up.” Two more people stood, but as much as they tried to stay up, they kept falling.

Before you could even blink, all of their heads popped, their bodies falling on top of the still bowing people. Their blood splattered on your face. No one dared to move, no one dared to speak. I kept my position, wide eyed, feeling the blood droplets going down my cheek. I didn’t dare to lift my hand and wipe it from dripping down my lips.

“Disgusting brats, ruined my scarf. Uraume.”

“Yes Master Sukuna.”

“Get me a new scarf, and..” this time he spoke to us, “…take that side of the room. All you pathetic people. Stand up and follow her now.” They stood up, trembling, lining up behind Uraume. The shackles that once connected you all was suddenly just gone.

A man accidentally fell while standing up.

*POP*

His head……

__________________________________________

Everyone stayed bowing, no one dared to move. it’s been atleast 15 minutes since uraume has left and you just assumed that he was waiting on her to come back. Your back was aching. your wouldn’t risk your life just cuz of some back pain though, your stronger then that.

“Did it go smoothly Uraume?” Sukuna said with no care in his voice. Like he didn’t just murder 6 people in a heartbeat.

In total you would say there was about 37 people. Originally there was around 60 but canceling the elders, and the disabled….as well as the just killed people. Your numbers were going down.

“Yes Master Sukuna. We are checking for every health condition. For only the best possible is worthy to be at your service.” She said bowing to him.

“Good.” and for the first time in what felt forever, he turned his attention back towards you guys. “Stand up.” Everyone doing so as quickly as possible.

“Uruame. My scarf?”

“My apologies Master Sukuna. For i haven’t forgotten but they are making you one as we speak. I couldn’t have just given you an ordinary one, you deserve only the one of a kinds.”

“alright alright….now. Shall we begin.”

“As you wish dear Master.” As she said this, she blew into her hand, forming a long sharp rod of thick ice. Sort of like a katana. “As well known, your lord deserves only the best. We cannot have any of you weak species that aren’t physically appealing, at his service. For those of you who don’t please my master. Your death is awaiting you. Master Sukuna, I await your orders.”

“Everyone stand up straight and look at me.” After not even a few seconds he already pointed at someone, and in the same second his throat was pierced. His gasps for air terrified you all. “Hideous one he was.”

A girl spoke up, “Please, any mercy we beg—!”

Her throat was slit.

“Master Sukuna didn’t give you permission to speak.” Uraume said, venom lacing her tone.

Sukuna chuckled, “it’s a shame, she would have lived.”

__________________________________________

The next few minutes were torture. Each second felt like my death was next. For some reason I wasn’t as scared as the other people. Maybe because I had experience with this curse stuff, but it still didn’t make sense. Down to only 6 people now. Geez……he’s picky for someone who can quite literally have anyone he wants.

“Uruame. That’s all. Take them out of my sight and put them to work.” As he said this I looked up, accidentally meeting one of his four eyes, I looked down as soon as I realized. Praying he didn’t notice. “Take them all….and leave them.”

Now. Now you had some fear kicking in. Taking all his cursed energy in again, coming to the understanding of what his true power is once again.

“As you wish. Follow along.” She exited the room. Leaving you and Sukuna alone.

The room was dark, had some bright red ominous glow everywhere. The blood of the now dead bodies making everything darker. You were beneath a set of around 25 stairs, as Sukuna was in a huge throne at the top. Resting comfortably with his head in one of his four arms. You were standing there awkwardly. Standing in silence looking down, unsure of what to do. Dreading each coming second, each coming second facing the possibility of joining your once fellow friends on the floor.

“Why don’t your eyes meet mine as they did before?” He said, trying to imitate a voice of someone who’s actually interested. He’s toying with you. What a pathetic jerk. You immediately remembered, ‘when spoken to answer’, you had about 20 seconds to respond or he’d get upset. You immediately began to think.

“Forgive me my King. For I was not thinking.” Fuck. I just risked my life saying that. Geez i’m so stupid. If Uraume said that made her wanna kill me, why wouldn’t he..

“Well. You better start. This is the only warning you’ll get. Do i make myself clear? What is your name?”

“I understand my King. I am forever grateful. I am only known as the lords slave from here on out my king.” you tested your luck, bowing down.

“Pathetic. Don’t humiliate yourself. it’s pretty obvious you are trying to kiss my ass. i don’t appreciate it. hmmm. If you weren’t so amusing, i would have snapped your neck by now. Look at me.”

You looked up, he had a crazy look in his eyes.

“come up these stairs.”

You had half a minute to think. You could run, and be killed, or you can go up the stairs and be killed. What to do what to do what to do. Fuck, there was no right answer. Even if you ran right now, where would you go? He would catch you before you could even turn around fully……you slowly made your way up the stairs. Finally reaching him, staying a few steps below to stay humbled.

“If you do not listen to my exact orders next time. I will kill you. I said to come up these stairs, or do you have some sort of hearing issue?”

“My apologies…” you mumbled.

“Now tell me, do you feel the fullness of my energy?” He said all proud and cocky.

“I….I do my King.”

“Yet. You still dared to look me in the eyes. Out of the three months I have taken over. You are the only person who has yet to do that. How dare you?” His voice becoming dangerous in his last sentence.

“M-….My king….I am afraid i do not unders-“

-SLAP-

He slapped you. He slapped your right cheek. The hit was so hard you felt your right ear begin to ring. You were shocked.

“Hmm..no tears? Tough one huh. The average human specie would have had been knocked out by now.”

Feeling encouraged by his words you stood up, still holding your now red cheek though….”Thank you sincerely my lord. Your words mean a lot.”

-SLAP-

“what made you think you could speak?”

“…”

Next thing you know, he lifted his index finger and tapped your belly. That simple act causing so much force throughout your body, you fell at the bottom of the stairs. This time, your wrist broke. Sukuna stood up.

“You dare not answer me. You little brat, speak only when spoken to! How do you not know that much. Maybe I should end you. Worthless piece of crap.” Sukuna made his way down the stairs. A little confused himself but he didn’t show it. If you were anyone else by now he would have had them gone, but you. The constant fluctuation of fear and confidence in your eyes made him want to know more about you.

__________________________________________

He was making his way down. Fuck! I hate being weak so much. I have no time to think. This is it, i’ll be damned if my last words were me kissing ass to this monster.

“….fuck you…” you said almost non-audible. But of course if anyone could hear that, it would be Sukuna.

He stopped in his tracks. “excuse me..?”

“I said fuck you!” His pace to you became faster, “Your just a sick son of a bi—!”

His hands wrapped around your neck, not letting the full word come out. “Watch your tone. Do you not fear for your life?” He started laughing. “Maybe I will just watch the life leave your body, hmm?” he said smiling, his face extremely close to yours. He then let out an exaggerated sigh, “relax, I’m bigger, faster, stronger, do you really wanna do this right now? For your pathetic state can’t fight me right now. you don’t ever seem to use that tiny brain of yours do you?”

Your hands scratching and slapping any bit of skin it could come in contact with, clearly showing your resistance being futile.

“Though, i can’t kill you yet.” His lands leaving your neck, allowing you to drop and gasp for air like a fish out of water. He looked down at you, “To bad, deal with me longer. I enjoy this. Been a while since someone had the guts to face me.”

He sighed, “I will give you a couple of minutes to rest. Then after that we will spar. If you land one hit on me, i shall let you leave and live as u please. If you can not….lets just say i’ll give you pain. For i don’t know why you think you are so worthy of speaking to me however you like.”

You were just listening as you tried to control your breath. “I refuse to be your play thing. Kill me now.”

He scratched his head, “Well now that that you said that, i don’t wanna kill you.” He boomed laughter, “I really like you, your a few hierarchies below Uraume, but that’s still a lot.” His expression became one of a cold killers all of a sudden. “Now, stand.”

You thought for a second. “My king…if i may….”

“Hmm, all quiet now are we? just a second ago you were using such filthy language. For such a beautiful face like yours, your mouth should know nothing but decency. What is it you please to say?”

“King Sukuna…my wrist is in immense pain, i am at a big enough disadvantage already. For i don’t think it will do me any good sparring with a broken wrist, i need more then a few minutes my king.”

“Fine. As you wish. Heal or don’t, my order of our fight has been decided.”

He stared at you a little longer. He stared at you, making you feel nasty, making you feel gross. He walked up to you and started pushing you down on your knees by your shoulders. You felt his eyes roam your body.

“I will heal your wrist. But first, you need to be punished for that naughty little mouth of yours…”

“please….“

“Let’s make this quick. Gonna teach you a lesson yeah?”

[viv-hollande]

Ok, so this is a post that I should have made sooner. I've been somewhat out of the loop with regards to current events and the state of discourse on this website courtesy of a pretty serious depressive episode from which I am only just now recovering. As I have emerged from this state I have been pushed towards a conclusion about this website and the state of discussion around the ongoing Israel-Gaza War that I had thus far avoided due in part to my barely possessing the energy to keep myself alive and due in part to my denial that the conclusion could be true. But that denial can no longer hold.

It has become openly apparent that the pro-Palestinian camp on this website has become popularly infused with a degree of blatant, aggressive antisemitism that I, in my naivety thought impossible in the days just after October 7. I am trying to avoid turning this into a mea culpa because that would be unproductive and feel self-serving, but I do feel an obligation to admit that I disregarded prescient warnings from Jewish users whose warnings I dismissed as over-blowing a problem that I felt was real, but more limited in scope than they made out.

I'm neither an idiot nor am I ignorant. I am well aware of the long history of antisemitism in leftist politics and in the Palestinian Liberation movement. Back at the beginning of this crisis I was prepared to see the occasional instance of antisemites using the inevitable, overwhelming Israeli retaliation as an excuse to air their hateful politics. I was prepared to see both the well-meaning but ignorant and the malicious alike sharing tweets from antisemitic pro-Palestine accounts, spreading and normalizing low-grade, subtle antisemitism. Make no mistake, this should have been condemned. Antisemitism, like all bigotries, has no 'safe' level. There is no background level of antisemitism that society should just accept as normal. But I was more focused on the inevitable cacophony of suffering that Israel would almost certainly begin meting out, and so I failed to act.

The fatal blow to my denial was the increasing prevalence of the use of quotation marks around the word "Israel" and "Israeli". The first few times I saw this, I didn't really understand what it meant. Still laboring under the belief that antisemitism was a manageable problem on the left, I was certain that most of the users on this site, well-intentioned, goodhearted, critically thinking people that they were, would have recognized and called out even disguised antisemitism before it took over a good 20-40% of all posts about the conflict. I was a damn naive fool. For those, like past me, who have not cottoned on to the meaning of the quotation marks, they have become a way to express the denial of the legitimacy or even existence of, individually or all together, the State of Israel, the Israeli people, or the right of either Jews or Israelis to identify as Israelis.

CONGRATULATIONS TUMBLR! You have successfully revived from depths of 4chan neo-Nazi boards the (((fucking echoes))).

Are you serious? Are you fuckers for real? This, right here, encapsulates the pitch-black absurdity of this whole situation and why I remained in denial for so long. Never, in a million years, would I imagine that the proudly pro-Social Justice, anti-fascist, 100% Certified SAFE-SPACE(tm) website would end up using the same language as the goddamn Nazis on 4chan. I thought this website was smarter than that. But noooo, it turns out that I was a damn naive fool.

This was where the post was originally going to end. I say my piece, hope to change a few minds, and commit myself to actually fighting antisemitism instead of sitting back and dismissing the problem. But I figure, while I'm here and while I still have the driving forces of anger and guilt pushing me along, I may as well put pen to paper and spew forth my other thoughts on the ongoing crisis. I am thus compiling a much longer post detailing my thoughts on some aspects of the current situation. [EDITED ~1:25 AM GMT, 5 Dec 2023: add link to finished post] That post will definitely be long, probably be angry, possibly wrong on some aspect of fact, and will absolutely be pretentious, preachy, self-righteous and hubristic to a positively Hellenistic degree. Brief, non-comprehensive summary so you can decide whether or not get mad at me ahead of time;

Israel does apartheid, or near enough for government work.

Israel is definitely conducting a campaign of forced displacement, possibly amounting to ethnic cleansing, but I remain unconvinced of the claim of genocide.

Hamas may or may not be a anti-colonialist revolutionary group, but it definitely is an antisemitic terrorist organization with genocidal aspirations and actively supporting them is morally indefensible. Yes, this includes the Al-Qassam Brigades.

Anti-colonial and other revolutionary movements do in fact have fundamental moral obligations and suffering oppression does not give you carte blanche to do terrorism, even when an oppressor attempts to render peaceful opposition impossible. There is a middle ground between peaceful marching and 850+ dead civilians; aim for that.

The left is just as prone to unhinged conspiracism as the right.

Verify your sources, for fuck's sake.

Use nuance. It won't kill you.

There's more, but it's a little difficult to summarize an unfinished post. If you want to argue with any of these points, go ahead, just keep in mind that a longer, more comprehensive post is in the works that might have the answer to your argument/complaint/insult/intellectual disagreement. If that post isn't up by midnight GMT on Friday, assume I forgot about it and argue away. In conclusion, antisemitism is bad, apartheid is also bad, Tumblr is a hellsite (derogatory), "From the river to the sea" is, in fact, antisemitic, seriously, stop saying it, take Jews seriously when they warn you about antisemitism instead of writing them off like a damn naive fool, and last but not least, free Palestine.

[cry-ptidd]

Laura genuinely makes me so sad, like I cried all silly sometimes ago cause we have a similar past but I went on and she’s like you know..stuck and I wouldn’t want that for anyone :( even if she’s fictional and a killer. I just wish to be kind to her for a moment and tell her a lot of women or really humans feel her pain, that it didn’t turn all of us into monsters. I guess it’s why I’m attached to her because I get it I do, but also…why I hate characters that have SA in their backstory cause it’s really depressing. She’s an amazing character but I can’t help but still wish her punishment and somehow through it all. Peace. That she gets all the punishment she needs and gets some peace right after..a good for good slumber. Even if she doesn’t get that, or feel worthy of it.

This ask actually made me a bit emotional, im gonna be honest. It's one of the most sincere messages I've gotten i think? I am very sorry about what you went through and I will do the same thing you'd do for Laura and tell you to please remember you're not alone and that i believe in you as a person, and that you're still able to move ahead despite everything that's hurt you.

Laura is a character built on cruel irony and tragedy, and many of her aspects are an exaggerated version of views that i also have because of my own trauma (aversion to men, aggression, anger, spite, stubbornness) and the crimes and attitude that would make her an irredeemable character are here to kind of cement the fact she went way too far in her revenge and how being hurt an turn a person into a monster.

But, i rally have to agree with you. Holy FUCK do i pity her. She's not reveling in her evil, she's not actively trying to do more harm (not anymore), and she's just in a state of permanent self-loathing and isolation, where her punishment isn't satisfying to watch or even really clear. You don't really wanna root for her morally, you just kinda wish she'd just... stop. And take a long sleep. Just like you said, a proper, defined punishment, and then let her sleep.

I think this ask sealed the deal of me giving her a canonically somewhat "happy" ending? Maybe a mild one? Where she starts to settle down and indirectly heal alongside Integra and Seras post-canon. A household of damaged women growing alongside each other. Im sure her Creator can decide on a rightful punishment when she passes. Let's just give her a bit of leisure for now.

[ffc1cb]

new art blog

the short version:

1. i made a new art blog: @cbge;

2. @ffc1cb will stay up as an archive.

the long version:

hi everyone. this announcement is somewhat late, since the blog in question has been up for a few months now, and i’ve already started posting art on it. the reason it took me so long to “reveal” it is because i’ve been trying to figure out whether a new blog is something i actually want, or if it's just me throwing darts at a board, trying to make myself feel better somehow.

i don’t know when precisely it all started, but ever since sometime last year i’ve been going through a hard time, both emotionally and creatively. i’m not sure whether being depressed is what made art harder, or art becoming harder is what made me depressed (a bit of both, i think), but lately, drawing has been a struggle. 

i’ve found myself having less and less energy for art, and this lack of energy resulted in poorer quality of drawings, which resulted in me feeling like i’m getting worse at it, despite my efforts. i knew i could make good art, art that i’m proud of - i’ve done so countless times before, - but somehow it felt like i just couldn’t anymore, like my hands forgot how to. nothing looked right. 

i’ve been trying to experiment. i’ve learned some new things, tried this and that - it was enlightening, to say the least, and even though i kind of liked how it looked, it made me feel a sense of displacement. i was at odds with myself, my art, and how i felt about it, when previously i was always in sync. i was making art, yes, and it looked nice, but it felt like it wasn’t mine.

i suppose part of it was also the growing lack of engagement, and i don’t mean likes and reblogs - i never particularly cared about those. they are all just numbers to me; dry and impersonal. what i’m talking about is actual, human interactions: personal thoughts in tags, asks, replies, etc. a conversation. 

i don’t mean to sound “old” or anything, but i remember when talking to artists online was more commonplace. my wife tells me it’s because the internet culture has changed over the years, that people have become more reclusive, less willing to be open with their thoughts, and she's probably right, but in my slump i find it hard to believe. somehow it feels like it’s my fault for being less “engaging”, for seeming unapproachable or perhaps intimidating. maybe it’s “just a skill issue”, maybe it’s because i have stopped churning out fanart for popular fandoms, maybe it’s because i refuse to torture myself emotionally by having an art account on twitter (i can’t fucking stand the place anymore; i still post nsfw art there, but only because it’s literally one of the only places on the internet that allows you to do so. i miss when you could post female presenting tits on tumblr).

i have always, ever since i started posting art on the internet back in 2012, done it for human connection. i wanted to talk to people, and have people talk to me. i wanted to inspire people with my art, and i wanted to bring them comfort. i wanted to elicit an emotional response, and have people tell me about it. it was one of the main reasons i drew in the first place; having lost that, i’ve been struggling to stay passionate about making art.

i miss being a small artist on the internet during the 2010s. i remember when i could make a post going, “hey everyone, how are you all doing today?” and it would not seem weird to people in the slightest. it is just me? does anyone else feel that way? am i too deep in my own head? the internet feels so unwelcoming nowadays, especially to artists. we are all just content machines; people scroll by our stuff, or maybe look at it for half a second and leave a like before scrolling away. i know it’s unfair to demand people’s attention, especially now when our lives are already so overwhelmed by everything - no one has the energy to pay closer attention; i myself am not immune to mindless scrolling. but it feels bad. i wish we were all sincere and enthusiastic again.

anyway (sorry for rambling. i hope i haven’t bored you to death), you might want to say, okay, but how is making a new art blog on a “dying” social platform going to help with any of that? the truth is, i don’t know. i just felt like i needed a change. 

i’ve been running this blog since 2016 (that’s almost 8 full years!). i feel incredibly attached to it, but at the same time, i feel it weighing me down. 

there are people who followed me years ago for one specific thing, still expecting me to post about said thing (i still find it mindboggling that some people follow artists for a specific fandom only, but that is a whole other matter for a whole other post that i will never write). a third, if not half, of my following are probably dead blogs. and with my current struggle with trying to regain the joy i once felt for making art, looking back at all the art i’ve done over the years makes me feel tired. i still love it all; it’s all very dear to me. i’m proud of it; looking at it makes me mourn my younger and more passionate self.

so i’ve decided to make a new blog, where i will let myself post whatever i want, in whatever stage of donness i feel like. maybe it will help me, somehow. maybe it won’t. but if you care about my art, if you want to keep following me on my artistic journey, i welcome you to join me there. similarly, feel free not to - no hard feelings.

thank you everyone for your support over the years; it matters a lot to me. i’m not planning to delete or private this blog; it will stay up, and i will still be reachable on here. i will still answer asks, if there will be any. i’m just not planning to post any art here anymore. this is it for my dear old friend ffc1cb.

i can be found in other places:

@cbge, as mentioned earlier,

@k0nstanta, an art blog dedicated solely to my wife and i’s ocs,

@inquisimail, a dragon age ask blog that has become my dragon age sideblog in general,

and multiple other blogs, none of which are art related, but feel free to ask, if you’re curious.

thank you very much for reading all of this. i hope you have a wonderful day.

[silentglassbreak]

I have a request for when you have time and only if you vibe with it haha

How about: Mona, somewhat tall, dark hair, light blue eyes, loves a tattoo when she can afford it, loves jewellery (fingers full of rings, chokers). She's been friends with the band for a while, can be a bit shy but fun and lovely to be around. She's gotten out of her first relationship a while ago, one where she never felt really appreciated or loved and the other person didn't really bother with her enjoyment during sex ever, so much that she wondered if sex just wasn't for her. But Noah, oh Noah, doesn't even need to do much but she feels hot and bothered. So what if Noah finds out and vows to provide her with an amazing experience, finding out she's actually quite kinky along the way. The kinks are up to you if you'd like I'll love it all haha. Maybe they're also in love with each other and just realising it now, maybe it's just a fwb situation, completely up to you, I can't wait to see what you'll come up with, your writing is amazing! 💜💜

Something light and easy, just for funsies. ☺️ After Writing Notes: This was fun. I enjoyed having something more lighthearted. Hopefully it is what you were hoping for.

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: smut, dirty talk, kink (nothing too wild), oral sex (both receiving)

Blackbird

"This had better be good if you're calling me at six in the morning..."

I rubbed my eyes, my deep frustrations seeping out in my words.

"It is!" I huffed, waiting for him to continue. "We're home!"

I raised an eyebrow. "I'd hope so. You've been on the road for like...three days?"

"Right, but we're home! And we want to go get breakfast!"

Still failing to see what any of that had to do with me, I tossed my arm over my face. "So...do that?"

"Okay, so you'll meet us there?"

"I beg your pardon?" I opened my eyes, knitting my eyebrows together.

"You'll meet us at Reggie's?"

I growled into the receiver. "You're out of your God damn mind if you think I'm getting out of bed anytime before ten, Nick."

"C'mon Mona! We talked about getting together as soon as we got home!"

"Uh, yeah, I figured that meant after you had taken some time to fucking recover!"

He giggled. "We're all caffeinated and hungry. Thought it would be a good time!"

"It's not."

"I'm buying!"

"I'd rather die."

"Too bad. Get dressed and meet us in an hour, please!"

Opening my mouth to protest, I felt the line go dead.

There were moments I truly regretted being friends with Nick Folio. He was a morning person.

Lifting my head off of the bed, I scrunched up my nose and pouted for a moment, gathering enough of my bearings to pull my legs off the side and stood up.

My arms reached over my head, my spine cracking and stretching. I walked over to the kitchen, pulled the refrigerator open and yanked the iced coffee from the shelf. Quickly, I mixed myself a beverage and drank half of it in three solid gulps.

Once the caffeine began burning it's way through me, I drug myself into the bathroom and stared at my reflection.

Well, it could be worse, right?

My icy blue eyes were only so puffy today, my hair freshly washed the night before. My shirt was clean as well, which was an improvement over the last couple of weeks.

I hadn't mentioned to any of the guys that I had been moping for the last two weeks straight. Sixteen days, more specifically.

Since Vinny decided he 'wasn't ready for a committed relationship'. Aside from being devastated, I also found it interesting given we had been dating for over a fucking year.

Fucking producers, man. Snakes - every last one.

I was blindsided by the breakup, and I had let myself feel it full force. My method was to be in pain, depressed, and disgusting for as long as it took for the heartbreak to fade away. If that meant not leaving the house, barely eating, and showering every three days, then so be it.

I did, however, know the boys would be home today, and had to prepare for that. My best friends for a good nine years now, I knew there was no getting out of seeing them as soon as they touched ground in California. I maybe expected a little more time to sleep in, but not much.

It was too early to care about appearances, so I brushed through my dark, chocolate-toned mess of hair and tossed it into a messy ponytail. I pulled my favorite band t-shirt over my head, a Bring Me shirt I got back at Warped Tour in 2012, and slipped into a pair of plain black leggings. My flip-flops would have to do, as I had no desire to hunt down two socks, let alone matching ones.

When I locked my front door, I winced at my nails. I had been biting and pulling at my cuticles for days without even realizing. I needed to get acrylics ASAP. I made a mental note to see if the nail salon had any openings after breakfast.

My deeply tinted sunglasses hid my eyes from the outside world. I hadn't bothered with any makeup this morning, not having the time nor the patience for it.

I hummed idly to my music as I drove the short ten minutes to Reggie's Diner, zoning out mostly. I pulled into the space in front, noticing none of their vehicles were there yet.

Of course.

Fucker wakes me up early, pulls me from the hole I had crawled into, and doesn't even show up on time. How predictable. I pulled a foot up onto the seat, balancing my chin on my knee while I waited.

The music streamed through my speakers, and the lyrics hit me in the chest.

"I guess this is goodbye. I guess we got what we deserved. Hold on to your heart, it's almost over."

"Ugh." I turned the volume down to zero, not wanting those kinds of emotions sinking in.

Before I could dwell too long, a loud, sharp knock came on my window, and I jumped nearly a foot in the air.

Standing in my driver's side window, Folio was pressing his forehead against the glass, making cross-eyed faces. I turned to the windshield, where Nicholas was lifting his shirt up to flash me. Jolly stood next to him, rubbing a palm over his friend's bare stomach, thrusting his hips like a complete moron. To my right, Noah stood at the opposing window, mouth pressed against the glass, puffing out his cheeks.

Tears nearly welled in my eyes at the absolute absurdity of these idiots. God, I fucking missed them.

I scanned the menu for no reason at all, already knowing exactly what I planned to order.

"French toast and an over easy egg, right?" Noah's elbow bumped me, his own menu open in front of him.

I pursed my lips. "No, I actually thought I'd get the waffles with bacon this time."

"Yeah?" He raised an eyebrow, and I cracked a smile.

"Nah, I'm getting French toast."

He snickered, nodding his head. "You always do."

"Yeah, well you always get raspberry lemonade so..."

"What's wrong with lemonade?!" He dropped his menu, eyes scanning me.

"Nothing." He huffed, narrowing his eyes. "Raspberry lemonade though?"

He opened his mouth to retort, but we were interrupted by the waiter. Each taking turns placing our orders, Noah went last, ordering a peach lemonade. I rolled my eyes, and folded my arms on the table, listening to them idly chat.

"I have a feeling that once I get food in me, I'm going to nap for at least eight hours." Jolly chuckled, fiddling with the salt shaker.

"Dude, me too. I think I'm just running on hopes and dreams right now." Nicholas added.

"How was the drive from New York?"

They all groaned in unison. "Fucking long." Folio commented.

"It felt like we were driving through Colorado for a fucking year." Noah tossed his head back.

I bumped him with my shoulder at his theatrics. "Your guys' bus is so bougie, it couldn't have been so bad."

"Once you've been in it for months like we have?" He raised an eyebrow at me. "I never want to see another tour bus again."

They all nodded together, affirming noises under their breaths.

"Don't you leave for the second leg of the tour in, like, eight weeks?"

There was a beat of silence before they all cackled. "Fuck, dude. Don't remind me!" Folio dropped his face in his hands.

Everyone fell into side conversations as we waited for our food. I was listening to Folio tell me about the people he had the opportunity to meet while they were traveling, but I felt my mind wandering, my eyes following, eventually settling on Noah.

Somehow, since I had last seen him three months ago, he managed to get even more muscular. His arms were bigger, and his hair was slightly longer than it was before he left. He had a fresh tattoo on the small patch of open skin on his upper arm, ink still vibrant. He was listening to Jolly, smiling at whatever he was telling him that was so entertaining.

"Mona?" It occurred to me that I missed what Folio was saying to me.

"Huh?" I looked back at him. "Repeat that?"

He smirked. "Space cadet?"

I rolled my eyes. "It's early." He mimicked me, rolling his eyes as well. "What did you ask?"

"I said, how's Vinny?"

My heart sunk, and the lump that I had just managed to swallow reformed in my throat. My face must have given something away, because the entire table fell silent.

"Oh, Vinny..." My stare fell down to my plate, pushing what was left of my French toast around. "He's fine."

Nick lowered his face so he could force me to meet his eyes.

"Everything okay?"

I nodded, biting my lip and trying like hell to smile. "Yeah, all good."

"That's not believable." Nicholas spoke up, pointing a finger at me. The glare I shot at him could’ve sliced right through his skin, had he not deflected with his own. “Care to explain?”

I set my fork down, folding my hands in my lap and folding my shoulders in. I could feel Noah leaning just a fraction closer to me, and my skin was warm where I felt his hoodie pressing against me.

“I don’t, actually. Thank you, though!” I tried to sound as chipper as possible, but it was falling on deaf ears. These morons knew me better than anyone.

“You guys fighting or something?” Jolly piped up between bites of hash.

I shook my head. “Nope.” Dismissive was not a skill I possessed.

“Do I need to fuck him up?” Folio did his best to look intimidating, and this made me cackle.

“No, Nick. No need.”

A bump to my arm made my eyes glance up at Noah, his face concerned. “What’s goin’ on, Mona?”

What was it about that fool that made me crumble like clay?

I sighed hard, leaning back in my chair, and averting my eyes to my plate, fingers now fiddling with my napkin. I could tell they were all looking at me, and it was a heavy feeling.

“Vinny broke it off.”

I don’t think I’ve seen four jaws fall at once before, but there’s a first for everything. I felt Noah tense up next to me, and it took all I had not to lean into him. He didn’t need to be fazed, it wasn’t a big deal…right?

“The fuck?!” Nicholas dropped his fork on his plate. “Why?”

I shrugged in response, pursing my lips. “Who knows.”

“Kicking his ass sounds pretty good, now.” Noah’s words were meant to be humorous, I’m sure. But his tone said otherwise, low and venomous.

When I chanced a look up at him, his eyes were narrowed into dangerous slits, focused on me. My hand gripped his arm, squeezing gently.

“It’s really no big deal, guys. Just wasn’t meant to be.”

“He didn’t give you a reason?” Folio sounded more concerned than angry.

I groaned, leaning my elbows on the table and rubbing my eyes. “Fuck, I guess? He said he wasn’t ready to commit or some bullshit.”

I heard at least two of them suck their teeth in disapproval.

“What horse shit. You guys were together a year.” Jolly wiped his mouth on his napkin.

“It was over a year.” I said, my voice small.

“Didn’t he ask you to move in with him like, three months ago?” Noah sounded like he was in disbelief.

“He did. I turned him down because I was afraid of something like this happening.”

“Mona?” My eyes fell on Folio, his hand now on my shoulder. “When did this happen?”

My face fell, then. I knew they weren’t going to like my answer.

“Like…” I took a breath. “Two and a half weeks ago?”

“What?!” Yep, about what I expected. “Mona! Why didn’t you tell me?” Nick was nearly out of his chair.

“Why would I?” I tried not to look at him, but I knew he was burning a hole in my face.

“Oh fuck, I don’t know.” He scrubbed a hand over his mouth. “Maybe because we’re your best friends!”

I rolled my eyes. “Who were on tour! You guys didn’t need my petty drama while you were working.”

Noah scoffed, turning his body toward me. “And we could’ve just brought you out to finish tour with us.” He glanced around the table, silent agreement from the other guys. “It’s not like we haven’t before.”

He had taken my hands, which felt so tiny in his huge grip. I couldn’t help but smile at him, and then at the rest of them.

“Guys, as amazing as you all are,” I pointedly looked at each of them. “I’m a big girl, and I don’t need my boys coming to my rescue over a little heartbreak.”

Noah’s fingers squeezed me, bringing my attention back to him. “We know that, but we like doing it. So next time, tell us, okay?”

I leaned my face into his chest, his arms circling me in a tight hug. I smiled, feeling safer than I had before they left. When he released me, I smiled at them.

“I love you guys.”

“Mona!” I turned, my keys in hand to unlock my car. Noah was jogging in my direction, the rest of the guys already in their own ride.

“What’s up?”

He stopped in front of me, looking almost like he was losing nerve the longer he stared at me. He tucked his hands in his sweater pocket, now smiling at me sheepishly.

“I just wanted to know, do you have plans today?”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “Uh, just going to get my nails done. Might grab some groceries later. That’s it, though.”

He nodded, kicking his shoe against the asphalt. “Okay, think you’d want to see a movie later?”

This wasn’t out of the ordinary. I had my designated activity that I typically did with each of the guys.

Jolly was a ‘go out to a fine dining restaurant’ type of guy, so he would take us out at least once a month to a new place, and we would spend the evening critiquing the food and atmosphere - as if either of us had any right. It was hilarious.

Nicholas, being the tattoo artist he was, loved the days I took the time to spend in the shop, helping him clean up and hang out. He had very little time to tattoo these days, and when he did, his books were full. I would sit with him, help him sketch, and bring food to the shop. He usually gave me little bangers here and there while we had time, and it helped my tattoo addiction, and my budget, tremendously.

Nick, unsurprisingly, was the nature freak. Luckily for him, I loved to fish. We’d hop on his bike when the weather was right, and head up to Big Bear a few times a year, or hit the piers for saltwater fishing. I never caught much, but he always told the other guys I did.

Noah, however, was a movie guy. Horror, sci-fi, comedy, didn’t matter. If it was in a theater, he wanted to see it. I was all for that. I had a serious affinity for popcorn, and loved to listen to him whisper to me during the movie, or bitch about it on the drive home. Maybe I enjoyed the occasions where I got chilly, and he let me wear his sweater? Or maybe I just liked being alone with him?

When I first met the boys, Noah had instantly stuck out differently than the rest of them. He was stunning, reserved, funny, and glowed like the sun. He had a smile that made my knees buckle and a hug that could swallow me whole. Voice of a siren and talent like none other.

Of course, I had an immediate crush on him.

Something about the way he spoke gave me such pause, my ears yearning to hear every word, hanging on them as they came out. The way he moved, gestured, breathed...it made my skin tingle.

However, when Noah and I met all those years ago, he had a girlfriend. It was disappointing - to say the least - but I respected it, and continued on as his best friend. I put the feelings to bed, and accepted the group of four misfits into my life without hesitation, arms open. Did the feelings eventually relax? Sure.

Something I appreciated about mine and Noah's situation was that I had the opportunity to get to know him better than I ever would have, had we entered into any kind of relationship. I saw him at his very best, but also at his lowest depths. I watched him free fall through his depression. Held his hand while he fought through the shadows within his own mind.

Noah, like myself, had a dark and violent past, so we were always closer. The guys constantly made comments about it, saying we were kindred spirits, begging to be together. It was all very Shakespeare, and we typically brushed it off. We laughed at their silly jokes...but over the years, there had been more than a few long and awkward stares between us.

He never told me he had feelings for me. The words never left his mouth. But did he walk with his arm around me sometimes? Hold my hand at the scariest parts of the movies? Bring me snacks and nap with me when I was sick?

Every. Time.

Until Vinny.

Once Vinny came into the picture, Noah had to take a step back. He had been single for three years - me for four. He had ample time to make some kind of move. He never did. So we sat in comfortable solace. And then Vinny came in, swept me up, and 'ran off with me', as Noah put it. He was upset, but would never admit it. Our movie dates stopped. Sick days were cancelled. And my shoulders were always so cold...

Over a year, Noah and I had been as platonic as brother and sister. It was painful at first, but I think we both got used to it. We hadn't seen a movie together in fifteen months...

"Mona?"

I was pulled from my thoughts and brought back to a very sheepish looking Noah, who looked as though he was about to tell me to forget it.

"Yes! Of course I'll go to the movies with you!" Maybe that came out a little too excited.

It was worth it, however, to see the way his face lit up. "Yeah?" He nodded, hiding his teeth in his smile. "Alright, cool."

I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to hide my own enthusiasm. "What're we going to see?"

"Tarot is out, have you heard of it?"

My eyes deadpanned at him. "Looked terrifying."

"Perfect!" He turned to walk away. "I'll look up showtimes?"

I shook my head. "Just pick me up at nine? We'll figure it out from there?"

This made him smirk. "You got it." He began walking back toward his brothers, and I turned to my car door. "Oh!"

I whipped back around.

"Do you need me to bring you a sweatshirt?"

I felt the warmth pool in my gut. Oh, the game was so on.

"Nah." I waved a hand at him. "Yours will do."

-

Was this a date? It wasn't. I was sure it wasn't. It couldn't have been. Not possible. We were best friends. I was reading into this.

Noah had seen me with strep throat. Bought me tampons. Held my hair back while I vomited. There was no way he had feelings for me. He probably viewed me as his gross younger sister. Or his weird cousin who stole his clothes a lot. There was no way.

But I still found myself dialing Nick, staring down at my two outfit options, chewing the skin of my lip to a pulp waiting for him to answer. It took three back-to-back calls before his groggy voice mumbled into the line.

"I'm sleeping."

I rolled my eyes. "I need your help."

"Mona, I'm tired."

"Yeah, well, I was tired at six this morning. Sucks to suck. I need your help." I was now actively pacing my bedroom.

"Ugh, hang on." I could hear him moving around, likely sitting up in bed. A loud groan came on the other end. Stretching. "Alright, whose dying?"

"Nick, I don't know if this is a date."

He spoke through a yawn. "Your thing with Noah? You guys used to always do that shit."

I scoffed. "That was before."

"Before...what?" I could hear the sound of a door opening, and then closing.

"Before," I took a second, but wasn't even certain of what I was thinking anymore. I growled. "just before!"

"Well, that makes a lot of sense, huh?"

I could hear his voice echoing, and then the sound of water running. Wait...not water...

"Are you pissing on the phone with me, you freak?!"

He chuckled at that, still sounding exhausted. "You wake me up? You deal with the consequences."

I made a noise of disgust. "Wash your hands before we finish this conversation."

I could hear the sink running, and then he picked the phone back up.

"I honestly don't get what you're freaking out about, dude."

"Of course you don't get it. You're a cool, nonchalant, unbothered dude! Whereas I'm over here thinking way too much into this and having an anxiety attack!"

"Alright, alright. Calm down." He huffed back down onto his bed. "Talk me through it."

"Okay." I took a deep breath, turning to look at my bed. "I don't know what to wear. Usually, during movie nights with Noah, I wear sweats and a baggy t-shirt. I like to be comfy in the theater, especially since he takes us to the ones with the...uh..." I snapped to think of the word. "recliners! The chairs that lean back? So do I just go with normal attire? Or, do I dress up nicer? Show him I'm interested in this being more than just a typical movie date? Show off a little? Will that give him the wrong impression? Will he think I'm trying too hard? But if I bum it out, will he think I'm a slob and have let myself go since the breakup? I don't know what to do. Don't even get me started on makeup."

"Holy fuck dude, you are freaking out."

My heart was racing at the rate my mouth was moving, but Folio's voice made me snap my jaw shut. I only talked that fast when I was losing my mind.

"Listen," He breathed loudly, likely sinking back down into his pillows. "I get why you're nervous. But this is Noah."

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. "I'm aware."

"So that means, the beauty about going on a date with him is that he knows you better than anyone. Even me. So you can be yourself."

"It's a date."

"No shit. Noah has been pining over you since the day you both met. Wouldn't shut up about going to the movies with you all day. It's a date."

All of the blood drained from my face. "Oh."

My heart had froze. Thinking it to myself was one thing, but to hear someone else say it...

"Don't start spiraling. This has been almost a decade in the making. It's going to go fine. Just be you. Wear your comfy clothes. No makeup. Hair loose. You're stupid cute like that."

I felt my cheeks heat up. "Nick, knock it off."

He snickered. "Listen, babe. I may not be the one in love with you, but I can appreciate a fox when I see one."

I almost dropped the phone as my stomach lurched. "You said what just now?!"

Realizing his error, Nick's voice jumped several octaves. "No! No no no! I didn't mean it like that! It's a figure of speech!"

I felt my chest tighten. "Oh fuck..."

"Nope. Mona, listen to me! I was just using the phrase to prove a point! He's not in love with you!"

"He's not?"

"No, I mean...he is...well, he's never..." I could feel the vein in my neck threatening to burst. "Shit."

I sat on my bed, wiping my now damp palms on my pant legs.

"Listen, don't listen to me. I'm half asleep and I smoked before I went to bed, so I'm still a little faded. Just..." He took a hard breath. "Just be you, Mona. Regardless of how deep he feels for you, I know he's excited to just hang with you. He's kept you at arms length for over a year, out of respect. Now that he's allowed to get close again," I could hear the smirk in his voice. "I'm not sure he'll let you get too far anymore."

Something about that calmed me. That's why I called Folio. Despite my near-stroke, he knew how to talk me off of pretty much any ledge that I found myself inching toward.

"Okay. So comfy clothes, hair down, no makeup?"

"Right. But wear your jewelry."

My eyebrow raised in curiosity. "Yeah?"

"You know those rings you wear? And the choker? He thinks they're sexy."

I waited impatiently at the bottom of the apartment building, fingers pulling at the long sleeves of my shirt. Although I fully intended to snitch his hoodie, it was still too brisk to go completely unprotected.

His truck pulled up at five till nine, right on time. I hopped into the passenger's side easily, and cherished the familiar smell of him. I missed it something awful.

"Hey!" I looked over at him. Clearly, he had the same idea as I did, wearing his joggers, plain black hoodie, and his hair still wet from a shower. He looked so clean...edible. My mouth watered at the idea.

"Hey!" He reached over to pull me into a half-hug, letting his hand linger on my arm. His eyes glanced over me, lingering maybe a second or two longer on my neck. My black 90s style choker sat tight on my skin. He ran his fingers down my arm to my hand, running his thumb over the stone of the ring on my index finger.

Thank you, Folio.

"Multiplex has a showtime in thirty minutes?"

I smiled brightly. "Perfect!"

The drive was short, and we were bounding into the building, arm in arm, same as always. "We're getting popcorn?"

He smirked. "And candy."

After obtaining our goodies, we made our way into the theater, finding our seats. Before he leaned his back, he shrugged out of his sweater, dropping it in my lap. I looked over at him, and he only threw a wink at me. I slipped it on easily, sinking deep into the fabric.

The movie was scary...but it wasn't great. The story was very over-done. Teenagers in a place they shouldn't be. Fucking with stuff they shouldn't be. End up cursed and killed one by one.

Sounds like Evil Dead, right? Nope.

Cabin In The Woods? Nope.

Talk To Me? Nope.

Tarot, ladies and gentlemen.

I would admit, the jump scares would get me. During the first one, where the priestess jumps at the girl in the attic, I physically jumped, which caused Noah to grab my hand, and physically pull me into his side. I hid my face under the sleeve of the sweater, only watching from the top of my field of vision. The next jump, I nearly scrambled into his lap. He laughed at me for that.

By the final jump scare, I wasn't watching the movie anymore. My legs were over his lap, and his hand was tracing up and down my back. My ear pressed to his chest, I could hear his heart beating fast. Although he continued to watch the movie, laughing at the deaths, and chewing popcorn, I could tell Noah was just as nervous as I.

During one particularly horrific scene where a girl was being sawed in half...alive...I had to turn my face away from the screen.

"It's alright, they're barely showing anything." He whispered into my hair.

"You know I have a thing about being cut up alive." It gave me the creeps. Nightmare-fuel.

He chuckled. "I'll tell you when you can look."

The moment lasted far too long, the girl’s screams ringing in my ears as my fingers clutched at his shirt. After the scene had flipped, I let my body relax.

"It's over, baby."

The word.

He never called me that.

Mona. Mo'. Babes. Darling. Lady. Rick (Don't ask).

But 'baby'?

Never. Not once.

I pulled my face away from the soft cotton of his shirt, and instead of looking at the screen, I stared at him. Face lit by the lights of the movie flashing, I could see his eyes staring back down at me.

I couldn't have imagined the energy change. The voices in the background faded into a dull blur, not interesting me enough to see anything but him.

His lips were shiny, as if he had licked them. Maybe it was the butter from the popcorn.

I didn't care, because in that moment, they were mine for the taking.

Without any forethought, I grabbed his face, and pressed my mouth to his, feeling how soft his lips were. God, I had been missing out.

His arms tightened around me, leaning down to press himself against my body. His tongue pressed into my mouth, and my eyes rolled back behind my lids. I breathed into him, letting him feel everything I had been holding back for almost a decade.

Oh wow. Noah. It was always Noah.

Something inside my soul woke up. Something in my brain sparked to life and roared like a once-dead battery recharged.

Noah was it. He was what I was missing.

When we finally disconnected, his eyes looked about as blown as mine, breathing heavily. I just let my lips crack in a smile, my hand catching in his hair and knitting into the loose strands.

Our beautiful, incredible moment, was interrupted suddenly by a bright light flashing directly in our eyes. We looked over at the source, seeing a worker stood, flashlight pointed at us.

"Guys," He walked closer, voice hushed. "I get this movie is rated R, but you've got to go somewhere else to do all of that."

I sunk back into my seat, and Noah did the same. We both blushed hard, looking at each other, and giggling in embarrassment. We finished the last of the forgettable film in our respective chairs, our fingers still interlaced on the arm rests.

"Your aim sucks." His finger picked up the M&M out of his lap, and I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Yours is no better, dork." I giggled as I popped one in my mouth.

The overlook of the city lights glittered beside us, below the hill we parked on. The hatch of Noah's Navigator popped open, we sat in the back across from each other.

Since leaving the theater, we hadn't had any physical contact. I'm almost certain we were both too nervous. I wasn't sure how to get that magic back, but going home and parting company sounded torturous, so I recommended we go back to our spot.

It was customary to park here, just up the road from his house, secluded and quiet. We usually sat and debriefed the film we had just watched, but that didn't take long. We both agreed it was too stereotypical, agreeing it was only a 4/10.

After that, I recommended we play twenty questions...to stall, of course.

"It's your turn, punk."

I rolled the candy around in my mouth, and pursed my lips. "Mkay." I thought for a moment. "How many girls did you sleep with on this last tour?"

I wasn't sure when the questions turned dirty, but he seemed unfazed by it.

"Two. But they were meh." He poised his hand to toss another chocolate, and I opened my mouth.

"Yeah? Not the best?"

The candy missed and struck my nose, which I caught in my hand when it fell.

"Pretty much."

I nodded, ignoring the pull I felt in my stomach. I had nothing to be bothered by, so I ignored it.

"Your turn."

"Mm," He tossed another candy, making it onto my tongue this time. "What's your favorite position?"

I chuckled. "That's so stupid."

"Why?"

"Because, how many are there?"

He leaned against the siding of the truck, putting a handful of M&Ms in his mouth. "Kama Sutra says there's over a hundred."

I shook my head, giggling. "Well, I don't really have a favorite."

He rolled his eyes. "Everyone has their favorite."

"What's yours then?"

"Nope." He held up a finger. "Not your turn."

I shrugged. "Fine." I mulled it over for a moment, looking out at the lights. "Probably cowgirl. I'm old-fashioned."

He eyed me, as if he was suspicious. "Hmm," Popping the last candy in his mouth, he crumpled the bag in his hand. "I don't believe you."

"Why not?"

"It's too boring."

I raised my eyebrows. "You think I'm boring?"

He laughed. "No, I'm saying I don't believe you are."

"Because...?"

He shrugged then, almost looking cautious. After a moment, he pulled his knees up, resting his arms on them and interlocking his fingers. "I overheard Vinny talking once. He said you were a real freak in bed."

Something about that made my spine straighten and my blood run cold.

"Did he now?" My eyes were glaring at him.

He didn't falter. "He did. And I almost knocked his teeth in, but I don't doubt it."

"Why is that?"

His lips turned up in a small smile. "I just have a feeling."

His tone was menacing, and something about it made me swallow hard. I was caught between feeling mortified and turned on. Noah was always so relaxed and collected. I had never seen him look so...hungry.

"And you?"

"Me, what?"

Matching his energy, I sat up and leaned back on my arms. "Are you kinky? Or vanilla?"

I could see his lips twitch, caught off guard by my flip of power. "Define kinky?"

"Well," I leaned forward, leaving very little space between our faces. "do you have any dark things you like to do in bed? Anything...taboo?"

I could see his eyes watching my mouth as it moved. "I don't know."

Letting my tongue trace over my bottom lip, I smirked. "No? You've never had the chance to do anything different?"

He raised an eyebrow, now looking confused. "I mean, I'm not into like...feet, or anything, if that's what you mean?"

My eyes widened, and I couldn't stop the harsh, blistering laugh that busted out of me, making me lean back. Tears fell from my eyes, and I almost choked in the process.

I heard him laugh too, kicking a leg at me. "Hey, sorry I'm so vanilla."

I continued to cackle like a hyena, but sat up, holding my ribcage. "I'm sorry. Jesus, that was hilarious."

He rolled his eyes, clearly uneasy about his answer, but his smile was so warm, I couldn't help but reach out and grab his hand.

"It's your turn."

He sucked his teeth. "I thought it was yours?"

I huffed out the last of my laughter. "Fuck, I lost track."

"Alright, I'll go." He sighed, face now turning serious. "Was Vinny good in bed?"

His tone wasn’t playful, but I was still recovering from my fit of giggles. "Fuck no."

His eyes popped open. "Seriously?"

I wiped at my tears, sniffling. "Not at all, dude. He thought doggy style was kinky. He also referred to my chest as 'voluptuous'. Nothing kills a mood faster, let me tell you."

Now he was laughing, and I tossed my water bottle at him in response.

"It's not funny! He was awful!"

"So why'd you stay over a year?" He asked through his laughter.

"Cause." That was all I was giving on that subject.

"Did he at least make you come?"

Shaking my head, I made a gross face. "No. I usually finished after he would leave."

"Ugh, that's sad."

I rolled my eyes. "You're telling me. Guy thought eating pussy meant making out with it..."

Noah stilled, his eyes getting dark. "What a shame. Some guys have no finesse."

I felt small under his eyes, suddenly needing to switch topics off of me.

"My turn."

He just nodded in response.

"I want to go back to this kink thing." He stretched his legs and linked his hands behind his head, waiting. "Do you like it rough?"

"To me? Or to someone else?"

"Either?"

He smiled. "Both."

"Biting?"

He thought for a second. "Only sometimes."

"Choking?"

He snickered. "Yes."

Feeling brave, I sat up on my knees, slipping the hoodie over my head, and continued my interrogation.

"Dirty talking?"

"Give me an example."

I inched toward him, crawling on my hands until I was hovering over his legs. "Do you like telling her she's a good girl?"

"I suppose." His hands fell to his sides, palms up. "If she's being one."

Cocking my head to the side, I brought a hand up to his knee. "And do you like it when she begs?"

I watched as the Adam's apple in his throat bobbed. "Yes."

Slowly, my hand trailed up his thigh. "And what if she calls you names?"

His eyes scanned my face. "Like what?"

I smirked. "There's a lot of options. Sir. Master." I let a finger trace where I knew his anime tattoo was. "Daddy?"

Visibly, his sweats jumped when I said it, making my eyes shoot up to him, a demonic smile crossing my face.

"That's the one, isn't it?"

Sitting up quickly, he got in my face, his voice deadly serious.

"You know, you've asked me seven questions now. I think it's my turn."

I leaned back, moving to sit on my ass again, now under his heated stare. I just nodded.

"How long have you been thinking about me?"

My voice caught in my throat, confused. "W-What?"

He moved closer, looming over me. "How long has it been since you started picturing us together?"

I could feel his breath on my face, which made it impossible to construct a lie.

"Years."

"Have you ever thought of me when you were touching yourself?"

Oh God.

"Yes."

"Did you ever picture me, when you were with Vinny?"

It was suddenly really fucking hot out here.

"Yes."

His teeth flashed at me, ravenous.

"Do you want me to do all those things to you, that he never could?"

"Jesus Christ, Noah." It came out only as a breath.

"That's not an answer."

"Yes."

"Do you want me to lay you down right here? And eat your pussy until you're falling apart? Until you can't fucking remember how to breathe?"

Insert cause of death here.

"Y-Yes."

"You sure?" His lips were level with my ear now, voice so dangerously quiet.

"Yes," Finding the last of my spunk, I tilted my lips up, and let my eyes fell on him. "Daddy."

Somehow, I hadn't noticed that he had pulled his keys from his pocket, and suddenly, the hatch was closing. I only had a chance to look at it for a split second before I was being pushed onto my back, my sweats being pulled down off my hips. I giggled at the sudden change of energy, knowing I had flipped a switch in Noah. He leaned over me, suffocating me with a warm kiss, pressing himself down on my body.

He lifted off of me just enough to look me in the eyes. "You sure?"

He repeated his previous question, but this time with a touch less heat behind it. He was looking for permission.

Always the gentleman.

I brought my hands to either side of his face, forcing him to look me in the eyes.

"Noah," I pressed a quick kiss to his lips, and smiled. "I've never wanted anyone more than I want you in this moment."

His cheeks warmed under my fingers, and he gave me the most terrifying smile I had ever seen.

His hand slipped down into my panties, fingers slipping lazily between my lips, and I wriggled, gripping his shirt.

"Oh." My voice stuttered, and he licked a stripe up the side of my neck.

"Don't worry, baby. I've got you." One finger circled around my clit, and I pressed my hips up for more contact. "You've got yourself so worked up already."

Breathing becoming more difficult, I let my eyes fall closed. His hand slipped away from me to pull my panties down to my thighs, and I felt his body weight move off of me.

I opened my eyes to see where he went, but almost fell unconscious at the sight of him perched between my legs, hands bracing my knees. Without warning, he lifted me, arching my back upwards to lift my core to his face.

His lips latched to my sweet spot, and my vision almost went white. "Fuck!" I screamed, but he just opened his eyes to look directly at me.

He flattened his tongue, pressing it to my pussy with long strokes, pulling moans out of me at a rhythmic pace. My hands scratched at the floor, trying to find anything to grab onto.

Finally settling on latching onto his arms, my nails dug into the back of his skin as he tormented me, face pressing further and further against my core. I let my fingernails rip down the skin on his forearms, panting and thrashing against him. He let out a deep, guttural grown in response.

"Noah, fucking hell. I'm going to come."

He pulled his face away, replacing it with his hand, pressing a finger inside me and pressing it into that spot that had me almost crying.

"Ask me nicely, baby."

"Noah, please. Please!" I was desperate to feel his mouth on me again, trying like hell to not buck too hard.

"Nope. You know what I need, pretty girl."

Confused, I wracked my melting brain for what he was looking for. His finger laid on a pressure that made stars fly in my field of view, making it hard to concentrate.

Until, I realized...

"Please, Daddy, I want to come. Please." I couldn't seem to get enough air into my lungs.

He smiled, looking inhuman. My head rolled back and forth, wild.

"Mm, no problem, baby." And he was back on me, the tip of his tongue drawing my climax closer. His finger still pressed into me, and I'm fairly certain a second slipped in at some point.

It was so much, it was so beautiful. I was going to actually explode.

"Ugh, Daddy. That's it. I need it. Fuck, please. Don't stop." At this point, I was just babbling. Whatever I could to ensure he didn't stop.

When his lips grabbed onto me, an impossible suction that had my head swirling, I felt the orgasm crash into me, a sharp scream escaping.

Carefully, he set me down, and his fingers slipped out. When I cracked my eyes open, I caught the slightest glimpse of him sucking them into his mouth. I had never seen anything so raunchy, and it made my muscles twitch, already wanting more.

He sat back against the hatch, chest rising heavily, and stared at me.

He was gauging, and I could tell. He wanted to ascertain whether I was about to regret what just happened.

He's insane if he thought I could ever regret that.

Noah looked wrecked. His sweats bulged violently, begging for relief. I sat up slowly, letting the blood flow come back to the rest of my body. Carefully, I sat up on all fours, and crawled toward him. He didn't say a word, just following me with his eyes.

"That was amazing." I smiled an appreciative grin, looking up at him through my lashes. "How could I ever show my gratitude?"

I could see he was stunned, so I took the initiative to reach for his pants, pulling them down in the front, letting his erection free to stare me in the face. Taking a few long seconds to appreciate it, I looked back up, eyes innocent.

"Would you like it if I choked on your cock, Daddy?"

His pupils were so dilated, I swore his eyes were completely black. He nodded slowly, reaching a hand up to run his thumb down my cheek, and hooking my chin, forcing my mouth open.

His other hand now grasping my hair, he pressed me down onto his dick, my mouth swallowing it down as far as I could before I felt my gag reflex hit. A harsh choke came out of me, and his hand loosened.

I just inhaled a breath and swallowed him down again, picking up a pace.

A long, sweet moan erupted from his chest, his head falling back as he watched me work.

"Jesus, Mona." His other hand gripped the side of my face, catching a tear rolling down my cheekbone. "So fucking beautiful."

I felt his cock hardening, knowing he wouldn't last long this way.

"You enjoy being obedient, don't you?"

I smiled around his cock, stopping to lick a long stripe down the length to his sack, catching some of the skin between my lips for a second.

"Ah, fuck." His mouth had fallen open, eyes rolling back. "Going to swallow my come, pretty girl? You're so fucking desperate for it."

His hand shoved me down onto his cock harder, pressing himself past my tonsils and straight into the back of my throat. I coughed harshly, but he didn't let up, head leaning back and eyes rolling with it.

"So close, baby. So fucking close."

With every ounce I had, I hollowed my cheeks and sucked him as if trying to drain his life force right out. His fingers tangled in my hair ripped at my scalp.

"Fuck, I'm-" But he was cut off by his own release, his chest tensing and hand holding me in place, head pressed firmly against my gag reflex, the come hot as it hit me. I relaxed, letting my muscles swallow it down without incident.

Noah's body slumped back, and his hand loosened. Fighting for breath, I leaned my face against his leg, just gathering my thoughts.

It took me a moment to notice he was running his fingers through my hair, smoothing the knots he had created. I hummed against him before sitting up, and letting my eyes search his face - exhausted.

He looked so pretty like this. His hair was sticking to his forehead from sweat, his veins in his neck slowly relaxing, and his arms loose and sprawled out.

He caught me staring, and raised an eyebrow. "What?"

I just smirked, shaking my head. "Nothin'."

After about thirty minutes of semi-awkward silence and cleaning up as best as we could in the back of a vehicle, Noah and I made our way back to his place. It was late, so we made every effort to be silent as we made our way up to his room. It wasn't until he was putting the key in the lock of his door that we heard the voice behind us.

"Use protection."

Folio's voice made us both freeze, and our eyes looked back to where his door was closing across the hall. An embarrassed smile flashed over my face, and he just chuckled quietly before pulling me into his room.

It was familiar. I had been here hundreds of times, so I made myself comfortable, dropping my bag on his computer desk and kicking my shoes off next to all of his pairs. When I turned around, Noah was sitting on the bed, hands on his knees, and a look I didn't recognize on his face.

Concern? No, fear? I wasn't sure.

"What's wrong?"

He was chewing on his bottom lip, and I walked over to him, slotting into the place between his legs. His eyes, so fucking big, so sparkly, stared up at me. They looked soft. Vulnerable.

"I like you, Mona."

It was a very regular statement. There wasn't a certain word or emphasis that made it special. But it was. Because now things had changed. Noah wasn't just Noah anymore. He was something different. And the words may have been ordinary, but they sounded as if they should've been spoken in a confessional.

It was warming, and they made me smile.

"I like you too, Noah."

His fingers came to grip my waist, squeezing me gently. "I've liked you a long time."

Nodding, I placed my hands on the tops of his shoulders. "Same."

He shrugged hard, looking up and down my being, working out what he wanted to say.

"I want you to be happy."

I was a little confused. "Okay?"

His fingers pressed in harder. "I want to make you happy."

Remember getting butterflies when you were little? When a rollercoaster dropped? Or a cute boy smiled at you?

"You do make me happy."

He moved his hands to grab my own, and held them between us. "I want to be with you, Mona."

It was silly, I'm sure, but I was fucking giddy. Internally I was kicking my feet and squealing like a mouse. Disgusting.

"Noah?" His eyes were fixed on me, so he just twitched his brow in response. "Are you saying..." I swallowed theatrically, feigning anxiety. "you want to go steady?"

The smile that flashed across his face was blinding, all thirty-two teeth flashing like a beacon. I giggled, unable to hold back after making such an idiotic joke. He just followed suit, pulling me into a hug, his face pressed into my chest.

My arms wrapped around his neck and I rested my cheek on the top of his head.

"You're so stupid." His voice came out muffled against my breasts.

My chest shook, now laughing harder. "You like me."

He pulled back, and his hand reached to pull me closer by the back of my neck, pressing his lips against me softly. When he pulled away, his words came out as the softest whisper.

"So much."