#Love bob love to study him as a character

[br1ghtestlight]

here's an unfinished fanfic i was writing about bob growing up in a homophobic culture as a bisexual boy. thought it was interesting enough to post but maybe not to ao3

Bob was five years old when he realized that there was something wrong with him.

He was playing on the playground and his father was babysitting him while his mother was in the hospital. He'd befriended another child who was playing, and they'd played together and created stories for what felt like hours. Bob liked playing with his new friend.

They were playing with another child that they'd met, and they all decided that they were going to pretend to be a family. Their biggest problem was that because there were three people playing, they would have to decide who was going to be the parents and who was going to be the baby. It was a difficult decision.

"I want to be the daddy," Bob told them.

He looked up to his own father, and he thought he was very strong and responsible and he took care of everything in the household. Bob wanted to be like him when he grew up.

"No, I wann' be the daddy!" Bob's friend argued.

Their new friend that they'd met at the playground had already decided that she wanted to be their baby, so she wasn't very worried about arguing that she wanted to be their mother. She had an idea that would make everybody happy.

"I have an idea! Why don't you both pretend to be my daddy? That way, I can be your baby girl," Bob's friend said proudly. Bob had never considered that somebody could have two father's before, but he couldn't think of a reason why that wouldn't be possible. It made sense to him.

Bob looked up at the playground. Despite the beautiful weather, it appeared that they were the only children playing outside that day, so they could pretend that the entire playground was their house and nobody would get angry at them for taking up too much space. "Okay, we can do that. We should pretend that the playground is our house, and it's a HUGE house 'cause we're super rich!"

"I want to race you to the slide," Bob's friend said. He laughed, and ran after him.

Later that day, Bob and his father were walking back to their house. Bob's father asked if Bob had fun playing with his new friends, and he said that he'd had so much fun. They'd spent hours playing together and running around on the playground.

"What was your favorite game that you played?" Bob's father asked him.

"That's easy. We pretended that we were a family living in a HUGE house, and we had a daughter."

"You pretended that you were husband and wife?" Bob's father asked with a playful smile.

Bob was happy that his father was enjoying their day together, because he felt like sometimes his father didn't like talking to him, and thought that he was annoying. That was why Bob spent more time with his mother, when she was feeling well enough to play with him. She never got annoyed at his games, or told him that she'd rather be working at Bob's father's restaurant. She laughed at all his jokes.

"No! My friend and I are both boys, and our daughter was our other friend. We were husband and husband," Bob corrected his father proudly.

He'd never heard of two men getting married before, so he was sure that he'd invented a new concept that was going to take the world by surprise. There were going to be so many happy couples! Bob was happy about this, because there was a boy in his kindergarten class that he thought was very cute, and he would love to get married to him someday.

Bob's father didn't seem happy about Bob's response. "Junior, haven't I told you already? Men can't be in relationships with other men. It isn't… It isn't natural."

"Why?" Bob asked. 

He was at an age where his response to every answer to a question was another question, and it was definitely something that got on his father's nerves. He was just curious about the world, and how everything worked. He didn't mean to be annoying.

"It's a religious thing. I don't know. That's just how it is. I'm tellin' you this now, so that you don't get harassed by your classmates at school. They won't be as understanding as I am, if you start askin' other boys to be your boyfriend. I don't want to see you getting hurt, or pushed around. You're a scrawny kid, y'know?"

"I know," Bob said. They were walking along the sidewalk, and Bob kicked a leaf as they passed by it. He felt embarrassed. He hated when he said something without knowing that it was wrong, and that other people thought he was being stupid. His father was trying to help by informing him before his classmates did, but he still didn't like it.

"Thank you for telling me, Daddy."

"No problem, Junior. Now, whaddya say we get back to our house and start cooking dinner before your mother gets back? She's always hungry after coming back from the hospital, and she'll be too sick to cook. You know how she hates eatin' that hospital food. You can help me by getting all the vegetables that I'm going to need from the fridge."

"Okay, Daddy!"

Bob knew that he got crushes on all his kindergarten classmates, and he didn't care if they were a girl or a boy. He liked everybody!

After what his father told him, he knew that there was something wrong with him, and he needed to fix it. He was lucky that he hadn't told anybody in his kindergarten classroom about his crush on his classmate who was named Thomas, because he was another boy. Everybody would think he was weirder than they already did.

It wasn't his fault that he had a crush on Thomas, because he was just so adorable. He had curly hair and freckles, and he always shared his crayons with Bob when they were coloring pictures. He wore socks that didn't match, and when Bob pointed that out to him, he just laughed like he didn't care about that at all. Bob shared his snacks with him at lunch, and he always said that Bob's father was the most amazing cook in the world, and Bob agreed with that. He was perfect. 

Bob was sure that if his father met Thomas, he would understand why he had a crush on him, and he wouldn't think that it was unnatural or weird.

Bob knew that it didn't matter if Thomas was the cutest boy in his kindergarten class, or if he always wore mismatched socks, or if he shared his crayons with Bob every single day. His father said that boys weren't supposed to be in relationships with other boys, and that meant that he wasn't supposed to get crushes on boys, either.

He didn't know what his father meant when he said that it was unnatural, but it couldn't have been good. Unnatural things were scary, like monsters hiding under his bed, or a scary virus that infected everybody and turned them into zombies. He didn't want to be unnatural.

He was lucky, because he got crushes on girls, too. He would stop having a crush on Thomas, and start having a crush on Amanda. All the boys in Bob's kindergarten class said she was the cutest girl in the world, and he had to agree with them. She was the best at drawing in their class, and she would share her juice with everybody because she didn't like it when her parents packed her juiceboxes for lunch. Amanda was amazing, and she never made fun of Bob or called him weird, or annoying.

Bob would stop getting crushes on boys, and he wouldn't have to worry about his classmates teasing him, or calling him mean nicknames. It was going to be easy.

*

Bob was eleven years old, and he had a crush on one of his classmates. His name was Anthony.

Anthony was very cool and popular, but he never bullied or made fun of people who weren't as popular as he was. He was confident, and athletic, and he was on their school soccer team. He was the fastest runner in their school, including eight graders, and everybody stopped what they were doing when he started running during recess because he was so impressive.

He was popular and made friends with everybody, including Bob. He always smiled at Bob when they were walking by each other in the hallways, and he was partners with Bob for their science project and he didn't complain even once about not being with his real friends.

He was also attractive, even if Bob felt creepy and invasive whenever he thought about that. He'd seen what Anthony looked like shirtless because their school had a field trip to the swimming pool, and even though it was months ago he would never forget what he looked like. He had dark skin and he would always come to school wearing different hairstyles that Bob thought were amazing. When he laughed he started snorting and it was hilarious. Bob was so happy to know Anthony even though he knew that he was way out of his league, regardless of if boys were allowed to date other boys. He was just so much cooler than Bob was.

Bob had realized a long time ago that he wasn't going to stop finding boys physically attractive or stop himself from getting crushes on them, but as long as he didn't talk to anybody about it or confess his feelings, it wouldn't be a problem. Nobody had to know about what he was feeling. They were private feelings, and even if they were unnatural or wrong, that didn't mean they were hurting anybody.

Bob sat behind Anthony in class, and he was staring at the back of his head as he worked on a math problem, and chewed on his pencil. He'd never been the smartest when it came to doing math, or school in general, and long division was far beyond anything that he was capable of. He rather spend their class period looking at the back of Anthony's head.

He was old enough to know about gay people, and he was also old enough to know that they were very bad and he didn't want to be one of them. He didn't have a problem with them, but everybody around him did and they said that gay people were dirty and that they had a disease that would kill them. They were unnatural, and they weren't supposed to be alive. Bob knew that if he was gay, his classmates would bully him until he graduated high school, or do something worse to him. His father wouldn't love him, and he would probably be alone and friendless for his whole life. He didn't want that.

Bob knew that he wasn't gay. He had crushes on boys, but he liked girls a lot more than them. He thought girls were so pretty, and he'd even had a girlfriend for a few weeks when he was in fourth grade. They held hands and she kissed him twice during recess, and he felt his heart jump into his throat. He got crushes on girls, and he definitely liked dating them, so that meant that he wasn't gay.

He probably didn't even have a crush on Anthony. He just thought that he was cool, and that he wanted to be friends with him. Sometimes he would think about what kissing him would feel like, but that didn't mean anything. Bob wasn't gay.

"Bob! Can I borrow a pencil from you?" Bob's classmate asked.

He grabbed a pencil from his pencil case, and turned to give it to them. He made sure to grab one that didn't have bite marks all over it, from when he chewed on them. His teachers always told him to stop doing that.

"Thank you! Also, why are you staring at Anthony like that? Does he have a booger on his face, or something?"

"What? No, I wasn't staring at Anthony! I don't know what you're talking about," Bob said defensively. He knew that this was not a normal reaction to being asked why he was staring at somebody, but he was surprised by the question. "He just sits in front of me, and I was staring, uh, at the chalkboard. That's normal."

Bob's classmate laughed. "Right, sure. What, do you have a crush on him, or something?

Bob started to turn bright red in embarrassment. He knew that his classmate was joking and that he didn't actually know that Bob had a crush on Anthony, but he felt exposed in a way he didn't like. He felt like he was suddenly naked, and everybody in the classroom was staring at him. It was like a bad dream.

"No! Why would I have a crush on Anthony? He's a boy and I'm not gay. Gay people are freaks."

"Okay, okay! I was joking. You don't need to get all defensive about it. You're obviously not gay," Bob's classmate said and he rolled his eyes in annoyance before going back to doing long division.

Despite feeling happy that his classmate hadn't figured out that he had a crush on Anthony, Bob got a disappointed feeling in his chest when he heard his classmate say that he was obviously not gay. It was true, Bob was not flamboyant or feminine or anything like the gay people that he heard about in movies or on television. He didn't act gay, and he didn't look gay. That was a good thing, because he didn't want to be gay. That would make his life worse. He WASN'T gay! 

He didn't know why other people telling him that made him feel sad or disappointed, like something inside of him secretly wanted to be gay, or at least have it acknowledged that he COULD BE gay, if he wanted to be. Which he wasn't, because he liked girls, and that meant that he wasn't gay. 

Right?

*

"Are you sure that your dad isn't going to come back?"

"Not for a few hours. He's gotta close up the restaurant, and that means we have the house all to ourselves," Bob said with a smile.

He was hanging out with his boyfriend, or not boyfriend, who was named Aaron. Their relationship status depended on what day it was. They had kissed before and Bob knew that Aaron wasn't straight, but they were friends before anything else. They were both huge nerds, and they loved watching movies together and goofing off after school. Sometimes they would sneak up into Bob's bedroom or in the janitor's closet at their high school and kiss, but that didn't happen very often.

It was by chance that they'd met and realized that they were open to experimenting with each other, when nobody else was around. Aaron had confessed while they were smoking a cigarette outside that he'd thought about what it would feel like to kiss a boy or what holding hands would feel like, and that he might not be straight, and Bob had confessed that he'd wondered about the same things before.

Aaron hadn't told anybody else, and he knew that his parents would disown him if they knew about this, so it was very important that nobody else found out about their experimenting. 

Bob hadn't told anybody else about his sexuality either, but he wasn't even fully convinced that he wasn't straight, or that he couldn't lie and say that he was and decide to just date women. He knew that his father wasn't the most open-minded person, but he had friends who were gay, so hopefully he wouldn't kick Bob out of the house. Even if his father didn't love him anymore, and Bob was a total disappointment. He was in a safer situation than his friend.

They were sitting on the couch together and watching movies, and anybody who saw them would think that they were just friends hanging out together. They were watching a cheesy alien movie from the seventies, and laughing at all the terrible visual effects.

Bob got a weird feeling in his chest when he thought about kissing Aaron while they were watching this movie. He felt like it wasn't allowed, or that it was an important secret that nobody else could know about. Luckily, they were alone, and nobody could tell them what to do.

Bob coughed awkwardly. "I-Is it okay if I kiss you?"

"Dude, you don't need to be so fuckin' awkward about it. We've done this before," Aaron laughed. He ran a hand through his hair confidently, and Bob blushed.

Aaron kissed him, and he felt fireworks exploding inside his stomach. Bob loved women, and kissing them felt amazing, but there was something about kissing another man that felt exciting. It was forbidden, and wrong. He felt like he was doing something illegal, like buying from the drug dealers that hung around his school and harassed students, or crashing his father's car because he was racing his friend. Anything could happen, and it was terrifying.

Bob kissed him back, and he could feel Aaron's smile on his lips. Bob started laughing, and soon they both pulled back with huge smiles on their faces. They looked like total nerds.

"Do you want me to cook something for you? I've worked at my father's restaurant since I was a kid, so I think I'm a pretty good cook," Bob asked. "I'm getting hungry so I'm going to start cooking."

"Sure, that sounds like a good plan. What are you going to make?"

"I'm not—"

Just as Bob said this, he and Aaron heard Big Bob return from where he'd been working at his restaurant. He looked frustrated, and he was muttering to himself about something.

"Stupid walk-in freezer! What's the point of doin' all that work if it's going to—" Big Bob noticed Bob and Aaron staring at him, obviously terrified of what was about to happen. "Oh. Hello, Junior. Hello Junior's friend, or whatever you two are. You're home early."

"I'm Bob's friend. We were just watchin' movies! I should probably get going now, because my parents, uh, they'll get angry if I'm home late. Thanks for inviting me over, Bobby," Aaron said. He was obviously panicking as he put on his shoes, and ran out the door.

Bob knew that they'd discuss this during school tomorrow, but the most important thing right now was convincing his father that nothing romantic was happening between them. Aaron had been at their house a lot over the past few weeks, and he knew that his father was starting to suspect something. He didn't want his father telling Aaron's parents and getting him in trouble, or worse. Bob had no idea what his parents were capable of doing, and he didn't want to put Aaron in any danger.

After Aaron left their house, Big Bob's anger returned. This time, it was directed at Bob. "Junior! What have I told you about inviting people over to our house without my permission? What were you thinking? And don't get me started on what the neighbors think about your little boyfriend…"

"He's not my boyfriend, Pops! Aaron is my friend. We were just watching movies together, I promise," Bob said nervously.

"Do you think I'm stupid, Junior? I've seen you going up to your bedroom together, and you kissin' him. You haven't had a girlfriend since you were fifteen! What am I supposed to believe? He's here every other day."

"Why don't you ever believe me? I-I told you that I'm not gay, and Aaron isn't my BOYFRIEND!" Bob shouted.

He hated arguments, even though he got into them a lot with his father, especially since his mother died. He felt tears forming in his eyes, and he tried to blink them away. He needed to stand up to his father, even if it was so difficult. There was a part of him that still needed his father's approval, and for his father to say that he loved Bob, and that he would accept him no matter what. Bob's mother told him that his father would always love and support him, he just wasn't the best at expressing that. Bob hadn't believed that for years.

He felt a burning inside his chest, because he knew that he would always be a disappointment. His father would never accept him for who he was, and he would never be good enough for him. Years of Bob suppressing his emotions and trying not to think about that caught up to him, and that mixed with the desire to protect Aaron however he could. He didn't want this to happen.

[loserlvrss]

.. 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐘 ( 김.𝐒𝐖 )

( 八月 ). ──you gets partnered up with the one athlete everyone at your school is obsessed with 김선우 &fem!rea. ⟡ one shot, smut warn. language, unprotected sex, dirty talk, spitting, biting wc : 5034THOU 노트 i got carried away mb gang

the harsh ultra-violet rays warmed your skin, sending a gentle goosebump-ridden pattern over it. you looked out ahead, watching as the soccer team practiced hard—almost daily now (only taking a break on wednesdays). a breeze passed through the air, weaving its way all around your body, which was wearing the school’s uniform loosely. you sighed, looking up to the wave of lustrously-green trees against the clear-blue sky. 

your body was relaxed, leaning ever-so-slightly back against the bleacher behind you. your hand came up when a particularly bright ray shined through the dark leaves of late spring and you blocked it. then, just as you were about to let it fall back down, your attention caught on one particular member of the team, when a shout of victory wafted into your ears: kim sunwoo. 

he was the main character of your daydreams, racing heartbeats, and physical ache. you knew it was stupid to be caught in his grasp, like the rest of the school was. you knew you weren’t special in the way you’d look at him longingly—so desperate for any kind of appraisal from the athlete. 

however, unlike the rest of the female (and male) population, you were contemptuous with your delusion over him. even if it was an unrequited love, you were closer with yourself—and schooling—in its result. your parents definitely weren’t complaining with your top-student status and class president tasks.

it seemed like a win-win, but still, you sometimes caught yourself wishing for more in the loneliness of the night; when your mind was the best at focusing on things it shouldn’t. you’d imagine things you’d rather keep in the depths of your archives. secrets you were prepared to take to the grave: everyone loved sunwoo, but no one knew you did as well.

the prejudice was that you were too caught up in said studies to even look up, especially not in his direction. you had only a couple of friends, ones you truly trusted with your life, and even they had no clue about your feelings for the soccer player.

you watched his celebration, a fist pumped into the air and a bright smile that caused a blush to litter your cheeks. In moments like these, you were glad he really had no idea you existed when you weren't standing right in front of him. he high-fived the team members, walking over to the sidelines and throwing a small towel over his shoulder. 

it was honestly a little pathetic the way you couldn't peel your eyes from the way his muscles strained against the spandex of the shirt, or the way the sweat would roll down his perfectly sun-kissed skin. the softness of the genuine smile that pressed against his mouth and up into his eyes, the ones that flirted so effortlessly with his slow and cool mannerisms. 

genuinely, when he looked so good, it made it hard for you to not drift off into another fantasy where he’d walk up to you and sweep you off your feet like a prince in a fairytale—and, he always looked this good. 

you huffed out a breath, one you weren’t even sure if you were holding or not, and crossed your legs over one-another. you narrowed your eyes (in some weird attempt to zoom in), swearing you could see the man of your dreams—and reality—walking in your direction. 

He flashed a devilish smile, you weren’t convinced was meant for you, breaking from the teammates he’d been walking with. his eyes met yours, and for a moment you thought you were asleep—or dead. 

frankly, you think this scenario would suit a chuckle from the athlete who watched your eyes go wide as he further approached.

he took a long drink from the bottle in his hand, holding said eye contact as he lightly swallowed. you mimicked him with a dry throat, admiring how his adamsapple bobbed with each gulp. 

he straddled the bench, setting his things between his open thighs. “y/n?” he asked as he raked a hand through his sweaty hair. you couldn’t look away, like a must-watch thriller that you’d spent your hard earned money on. you could feel the way your heart rattled your ribcage, just aching to escape and feel his against it. 

an audible hum left your lips in reply. you could feel the heat that radiated your features and spread throughout your body. and, you knew, despite opposition, that he could see its pink shade.  

the one-sided tension was suffocating. you shifted uncomfortably—or maybe in some desperate attempt to ease the ache—and clasped your hands together. then, once again, he smiled at you. your heart didn’t know whether to shatter or melt in the presence, which you’ve only been able to see up close a couple of times. 

“your place or mine?” 

you wouldn’t have believed the way your eyes could grow three-sizes larger than they already had previously. 

“w-what?” you choked out. 

he chuckled at your flustered state. “ms. park posted the partners for the group-projects.” he stated matter-of-factly. “and, guess what class president?” you all but asked what; gulping loudly, tensing your legs together, as well as your fingers and lips. “we’re partnered.” 

you wanted to play it cool, but the excitement at the revelation was fast-approaching. you’d never had the opportunity to see him outside of school—and granted, it was still over school-work but, a win was still a win in your book. 

“o-oh!” you ragged out along with a shaky breath. “right, i was waiting until after practice to ask you about it.”

you lied.

you had no idea that the groups were announced. you just spent your free-time on this bench pretending to do work often enough that it seemed reliable.

his eyebrows rose, like he could see right through your antics. it was honestly a little intimidating; or maybe that’s not exactly the right word to describe the feeling hot-spotted in you.

he glanced back at the field momentarily, watching the rest of his teammates leave the outlined grass. “whatever you say, class president, but i knew exactly where to find you… except on wednesdays.” the undertone was something you couldn’t read, just out of your depth, but still plunged you further into curiosity. “we’ll go to my place then, and i’ll shower while you get started. how’s that sound? practice is done anyways.”

you wanted to protest his offer, but there was something intoxicating about seeing his room and smelling the cologne that lingered in the air. the shampoo and body wash that would waft out to you. you’d dreamt about it, and simply, you wanted to see if it was anything like the picture you painted in your head.

“i can just meet you later—you can shower in peace.” you started to pull the phone from the bag at your side, opening it, and holding it in his direction. “maybe, in like two hours?”

he took hold of the machinery. “what’s the fun in that? you could’ve joined me if you got too bored.”

you laughed painfully, shifting once again at the heat between your thighs. you wanted to accept the offer more than anything, however you know you shouldn’t.

but, what was the fun in that?

“a shame.” he chuckled lightly, holding the phone back out to you after inputting his number and texting himself the address. “i’ll see you then, y/n.”

it was the exact house number you were now staring at, eyes shifting between the text on your screen and the apartment door. it had been a little over two-hours, you having to hype yourself up before you left. and you had decided to relax by taking a bath as well, getting a little carried away with your imagination—which ultimately caused you to be late as well—but, you didn’t think delinquent-athlete, sunwoo, would care all too much.

“you could’ve knocked,” you hadn’t realized the door was now open, revealing the dimly lit (because the curtains were closed and it was approaching 6pm) living space. “or called.”

“s-sorry. i wasn’t sure if this was the right place.” you watched as he moved aside, creating just enough room for you to brush past him, giving you an oh-so desired smell of his cologne.

you cursed yourself for getting so worked up over the little things he’d do, but now you were finding it hard to believe that that wasn’t his intention. he kept you coming back for more, and you were always eager.

“do you want any water?” he asked, watching your frame stand awkwardly in his living room. “my rooms over there, i have a couple of things for you.”

you choked again. “f-for me?”

he laughed. “to use on the poster, y/n.” and he mumbled something after that you weren’t able to catch.

your head panned as he walked to the kitchen, ears listening to the light rattle of glass cups and running water. you plastered your hands to one another politely, scanning over the couple pictures sunwoo did have laying about; his apartment only had the necessities. the few pictures were ones of a younger girl, who you assumed to be his little sister—who he obviously loved enough to display. but you thought there must’ve been more to them, to him, and deep down you knew you’d like to find out one day; to comfort him in his time of need. to be his.

sunwoo came back, two glasses in his hands as he motioned for the closed door on your left. “you can open it, i’ve got nothing to hide from you.”

you don’t know why those words made you blush, maybe it’s because they’re from him, and anything from the athlete is enough to send you reeling.

your hand trembled as it reached to the knob. “oh, okay.” you said, trying to block it with your body. “i was thinking we could start with reading the book a little bit more, to familiarize ourselves with the data before making the final draft. that’s if you don’t mind?”

the door swung against its hinges, making the site of a dark, but minimalistic room meet your view. you took in the smell of cologne, but it didn’t seem to be overpowering like he had just sprayed it around carelessly. his bed was neatly made, black sheets and black pillows placed meticulously: as if a house keeper had been around to do it for him.

he placed the glasses against the wood of his nightstand, a charger and lamp being the only other decor on it.

he pressed the lamp and illuminated the room just a little more. “not confident, class president?”

“that’s not it,” you blurted out, his brows knit and arms crossed as he awaited your explanation. you could barely look in his direction, biting your tongue to not say: i just get flustered enough to forget around you.

“i, uh, it’s just that… nevermind. let’s begin!”

he huffed out another laugh, his actions too fast for you to process as his hands met your shoulders, pushing you to sit on his bed.

your eyes seemed to be in a perpetually widened state, but you found it telling that you put up no protest. the bag on your back made it into your lap, and you unzipped it, taking out multiple pens, markers and whatnot to make a decent poster. sunwoo had grabbed a paper, putting it on the floor and holding out his book for you to take. your hands brushed as you accepted it, and it sent a shiver up your spine.

you began to lay a couple of your class-taken notes onto his bedding, and sunwoo made his way around to the other side. he plopped down onto his stomach, making you bounce slightly.

“you know, class prez, people think you’re scary. you’re always studying, you barely look up, and when you do it’s to tell people off because they’re interrupting said studying.” you tried to read over the notes, but found it hard to ignore the harmonies within his voice. and that your leisure-clothes were getting too warm around your skin. “but they don’t know you, i guess. you’re smart but i bet you know how to have, at least, a little fun, don’t you? and, it’s no secret the school thinks your looks are top-tear. it’s just a shame you reject everyone that asks you out. it’s a waste of your time, i presume. anyways, that’s enough. let’s get started, shall we?”

“w-why?” you asked in such a hushed breath that sunwoo barely heard it. and if he lived with anyone else, or if a car or plane went by at the perfect time, he wouldn’t have. “why is that a shame?”

“because you are beautiful, y/n.”

fuck your clothes, your skin was getting too hot against you. your breath was labored, and now the words on the paper were congregating. you couldn’t focus with sunwoo next to you, and that’s exactly what you feared.

why’d you have to ask? curiosity did kill the cat.

the way you shifted didn’t go unnoticed by the athlete and he let out a chuckle that should just be his signature at this point.

he sat up now, burning his eyes into the side of your head. “what’s wrong, y/n?” he asked, but you refused to look away from the notes, even if you couldn’t get your mind to read them. “has no one ever called you that before?”

you bit your lip, thumbs ripping at the skin around the nail. truthfully, yes, one person has called you that, but it didn’t feel the same as when he did it. sunwoo made your heart beat out of your chest, breath leave your lungs so fast it made you lightheaded. he made you weak in the knees, like you were just jelly to begin with, melting in the sun.

you felt a soft hand reach across you, taking the farthest cheek within his palm and focusing your vision towards himself.

his skin felt like fire against you, but even this smallest touch made you crave more, made you need him in a more than innocent way. and, you were starting to believe his intentions were exactly the same as yours.

your eyes finally focused at the feeling on his hand sliding to rest against the side of your neck, as if he was caressing it, running his thumb over your windpipe gently.

you’d never seen sunwoo so close to your face, but you had imagined it, and it was nothing in comparison. he was beyond beautiful, a sight to see: tan skin untainted by pores and blemishes, soft features like his lips that contradicted, but complimented shaper ones such as his eyes and nose. he was the perfect harmony in your opinion, the perfect—

“god, y/n. i must be crazy.” he broke you from your admiration, breath hitting your lips. “would you treat me any different from the guys who have asked you out in the past?”

god, yes.

your stomach was beyond knots now, the whole damn zoo being let loose. your hands were gripping the sheets at the anticipation that seemed to be agonizing enough to kill you where you sat. in reality, sunwoo wasn’t even doing anything, but he had you at his fingertips, and you weren’t convinced you couldn’t pass out right now.

“fuck, maybe i am crazy…” his eyes flicked to your lips momentarily. “do you want this? i know i’d be interrupting your studying, class president.”

and you don’t know where your confidence came from, but the way you closed the gap was desperate. however, sunwoo put up no protest, and quickly gained control over the situation.

his other palm pulled you by your cheek to deepen the kiss. well, that was until he had enough of the angle you were sat at and gripped your thigh to fully get you onto his bed.

he was a good kisser, a great one in fact, and it made you crave his lips in other places to experience the full effect.

now he was pushing your body by your lower back, trying to get you as close to him a possible, and as if you could read minds, you threw your leg over him to straddle his lap.

he broke the kiss. “good girl.” he said before reconnecting with the skin on your neck, and smiling against it when he heard you whine quietly. you could feel him growing hard underneath you, and wondered if he’d take this all the way, wondered if he wanted you like that. “you do want this, don’t you?”

inside your head you couldn’t help thinking that maybe you weren’t desirable, maybe he was only doing this to prove a point: that the whole school was within his grasp. maybe it was to brag tomorrow, as locker room chatter before soccer practice, because why would sunwoo like you outside of your delusions?

his arms caged you against him, stoping all minor movements and actions. he looked into your eyes, and for a moment it’s like the world had ceased. the only thing you could hear was the thumping within your own chest and the echoes of your doubts.

“do you want me, sunwoo?”

he kissed your lips gently—almost lovingly—before stating. “more than anything right now.”

and you wanted to ask if it was only right now that he wanted you, but you couldn’t will that to leave your lips, as his eyes locked onto your own, mixing like watercolor.

you’d wanted him to want you for a long time, so you hoped it wasn’t only now that he felt the same.

“are you okay?”

your palms now laid against his cheeks, biting your bottom lip, half-nervously and half from feeling his hands curve where the seams of your thighs met the underside of your ass. you pulled him quickly back to you, breaking away only to mumble a quiet yes before being fully taken over by your lust.

he flipped you over quickly, and you found comfort between his soft pillows and blanket. he pushed your thighs apart, slotting himself in between to attach back on your already swollen lips.

his voice came out in a hushed tone, only for you. “class prez, has anyone had you like this? have they seen how perfect you look with messy hair and puffy lips? i bet you’d look so cute crying, wouldn’t you?” you whimpered at the words—the thought—you wanted him to think you were cute, attractive in any way, it was human nature after all; and everything about this was primal. “how far do you want me to go?”

your voice was once again barely audible over your own heartbeat. “whatever you want.”

“yeah, you’d like that wouldn’t you?”

you were beginning—ignoring all previous warnings—to feel overwhelmed, his tongue sending you into overdrive. you didn’t know what to do as you felt him ghost his lips on your collar bone, then down over your chest, eventually landing at your stomach. he pushed the fabric up, latching down onto your hip bone, which had you shifting to get any sort of friction on your core.

all his minuscule teasing was actually beginning to feel painful, but he got the hint. you knew he would.

sunwoo grabbed at the waistband on your pants, looking up to you for reassurance, but you just lifted your hips to make it easier for him. he chuckled, pulling both of the fabrics blocking you from him down.

you heard him mumble something along the lines of pretty as he placed open-mouth kisses against your inner thighs.

one thing about sunwoo is that he left you no room to feel self-conscious or embarrassed. he knew how to love you right, (you didn’t want to know why that was) and was determined to show you that.

you might not have believed this was something more than locker-room chatter, but now…

you moaned when he finally attached to your aching clit, sucking gently before alternating between kissing and licking at your slit. your hand covered your mouth out of embarrassment at the sounds that you couldn’t stop from making. truthfully, the last (and only) guy you were with didn’t even make you finish, so you didn’t have to worry about being too loud—or god forbid, annoying.

but, sunwoo hated that you weren’t letting him hear how good he was doing. he wanted the praise just at much as you did, nonetheless he let you continue. he’d let you until you were completely at his mercy, malleable under his touch. he’d let you because that made you comfortable.

and, to be honest, it still fueled his ego.

“c-close,” you managed to mumble through your fingers, eyes squeezed shut and head lulled back. “woo, please?”

and that fact that you had asked him almost made him cum untouched. so, you were his? he thought to himself, before he groaned into your pussy at the feeling of your fingers attaching to his hair, only adding to your pleasure.

the hands squeezing your plush thighs pulled you closer to his face, close enough to suffocate, but he’d die a happy man.

he continued to eat you out like a starved man, only bedrudgingly pulling away right before you had the chance to properly orgasm.

“w-wait!” you tried to push him back, frantically searching for the edge you were just about to topple off. “w-wh—sunwoo, fuck, d-don’t stop. please.”

tears were pricking your eyes out of frustration—the whole thing being so emotionally and vulnerably charged, you weren’t sure you could hold them back. then, shivers were sent throughout your shaking body as he soothed over your sides and stomach with his hands, lips back to their spot on your thighs.

he propped himself up, staring down at the godly figure he never truly thought you’d let him see. and after a minute, you got embarrassed at the strong gaze on your glistening core; your knees coming together.

his fingers slotted between them, pulling your legs apart. “don’t hide from me, baby. you’re so beautiful—god, all for me, right?”

you whined, quickly sitting up and reaching out for anything he’d give you.

sunwoo kissed your lips again, keeping you at his level with a hand on the small of your back and one gripping the hem of your shirt. you were dizzy from the taste of yourself on him, sunwoo only breaking apart to get the fabric up, and fully over your head. he took off your bra and suddenly the realization that you were fully naked in front of the prized soccer captain, while he was fully clothed, sunk in.

you whined again, too drunk off him to formulate anything coherent. he laughed at how desperately you were pawing at his sweats. “what’s wrong?”

you looked up at him. “fuck me?” and if your eyes weren’t the definition of puppy-dog, he didn’t know what was.

he smiled, grabbing your wrist. “patience, baby. i’ll give you what you want.”

you fell back again, opting to obey him because you were honestly too far gone to come up with anything else to do.

and he did, taking off his sweats, along with the rest of his clothes and pressing his body to yours. his lips were connected back to you and you clawed at his shoulders—anything to ground yourself—while his held your torso down firmly.

he looked between your bodies as he lined himself with your entrance. your head was thrown back, and he pressed a chaste kiss to the middle of your neck before mumbling. “you are pretty when you cry, y/n.” and pushing in slowly.

the stretch only burned for a minute until you moaned almost embarrassingly loud with each shallow thrust. a hand instinctively come up to hide them away. but, that only lasted so long until sunwoo intertwined his fingers with yours, pushing them into the bed on either side of your head.

“don’t hide them, baby,” he sighed against your lips. “please.”

and, whether you wanted to or not, you didn’t have a choice. the noises fell freely from your lips into his shoulder, as he sucked and nipped at your neck again.

“i-is it good?” you could barely hear him, your ears ringing with pleasure; was it good? is he stupid?

you choked on a chuckle, feeling him angle himself just perfectly inside you to brush against your g-spot. “holy fuck,”

“right there, baby?” he did it again, taking notes and storing them away in the back of his mind. your head lulled back again, and he watched your face contort, mouth falling open. “does it feel good?” you couldn’t reply, his thrusts only getting harder after that.

you could feel the band in your stomach tightening, and you feared you wouldn’t even be able to tell him you were getting so close, so fast—too fast.

but, somewhere deep-down, he already knew.

“fuck, you feel so good, y/n.” he sighed, lips ghosting over yours. “i must be the luckiest man in the world, right?” it was rhetorical, but even if you felt the need to answer, all that was coming out of your mouth was moans, groans, and mewls. “perfect body—fuck—perfect personality, perfect pussy, perfect fucking mouth,” he grabbed your chin, your free hand now going to clutch into the skin on his arm. his eyes met your tear-filled, and blurry ones. “open your mouth,”

there was a fire within you when you did as he said, mouth falling open. he spat on your tongue, and you didn’t know whether you came right then or just flat-out died.

“swallow it,” he said—no, demanded—almost making it an impossible task by putting his fingers into your mouth, pushing them to the back of your throat, and making you gag around him. he felt you clench harder at the act. “gonna fuck this throat one day, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

you would.

but, he was spewing heated words into a brick wall. “you’re mine, right?” he asked, taking his saliva-covered fingers from your mouth and bringing them between your bodies.

the moment his fingers landed on your clit, your eyes rolled to the back of your head. the hand that was still intertwined with his was losing circulation from how hard your were gripping it, and the other was scratching his perfect skin hard enough to bleed.

no one had ever made you feel so cold, yet so fucking warm at the same time. nothing you've ever experienced has been as intense and kim sunwoo; the delinquent soccer player. you feared no one could ever make you feel like this again.

so, of course you were his.

“look at me, y/n.” he whispered, kissing along your jaw gently—in contrast to the heavy and hard thrusts he kept at a steady rhythm. “c’mon, y/n, be a good girl. please.”

you felt the impending desire to now, head leveling. his forehead then came to rest against it, fighting off your urge to let it roll back again.

he pecked your lips between sentences. “mine, right?” god, he kept asking an obvious question. “be mine, okay? cum for me,” he circled your clit faster, determined to make you finish one last time. “i got you.”

his voice alone was enough to make you topple over the edge, your noises raising a couple octaves. your vision went white, body convulsing under sunwoo, who kept his eyes on your face the entire time; in awe of you. he fucked you through it of course, mumbling praises, before the overwhelming feeling of fire bloomed between you two; disguised by overstimulation.

you mewled. “woo, p-please stop.” he kissed you quiet, slowing down. but, you didn’t actually want him to stop. “h-hurts… just a little,”

his hand intertwined with yours again. “being such a good girl—taking it so well. just a little more, okay? i promise,” he sighed, feeling the way your walls clenched him in, barely letting him pull out, only causing him to thrust harder. “almost there, y/n, where do you want it?”

your legs caged him against you. “fill me up, please.” and you weren’t above begging for it, especially not in a state of post-euphoria. “cum in me.”

he threw his head back momentarily, fighting off a strong urge to start a second round. how in gods name did he get so lucky? he thought to himself, bringing his forehead back to yours.

he locked eyes onto you. “yeah?” you nodded slightly, eyes full of tears you didn’t know if you’d shed. “gonna be so good and take it all?”

you moaned when he started grinding against you, your clit being stimulated by his pubic-bone.

“could fuck you forever.” he admitted. “do you want me to?”

you spewed out a quiet yes, and if you didn’t know any better you’d think he was being serious—maybe he was. you were too far gone to even begin guessing.

he kissed you again, desperately fighting your tongue with his. he continued to kiss down your jaw and into your neck, leaving glistening marks in his wake. he sucked on your collarbone, finding a sweet-spot you didn’t even know you had, and biting down for a second. your mouth fell open in a silent scream, an orgasm you didn’t even know was there, washing over you.

sunwoo just kept forcing you to learn about yourself—you guess, it’s a good thing you’ve always been known for studying, isn’t it?

your intense orgasm triggered his, a soft groan leaving his lips as uneven thrusts made sure you both were fully satisfied.

you felt fuzzy, brain completely melted under his touch. your heavy breathing mixed with his, his body fully collapsing from exhaustion. however, his weight wasn’t enough to suffocate you, so you let him stay where he was, breaking your hand from his and threading it into his damp hair.

the silence was loud—heartbeats intertwined—as you both came down, the reality about to set in.

would he push you away after this? did he even mea—

“i meant it, by the way.” your eyebrows creased. you weren’t even sure if you had imagined that. and, if you didn’t feel the rumbling of his chest on yours as he spoke, you might’ve believed it was only in your head. “be mine, okay?”

little did he know, you already were.

you whispered out a reply. “okay.”

reblogs, likes and comments are greatly appreciated! thank u!

— tag list .ᐟ send an ask to be added c:

— back to masterlist .ᐟ

[struwberrii]

Hii! I love your headcanons and I’ve been listening to your haikyuu playlists daily<3 i was wondering if you’re able to do kuroo headcanons cause that would be great(^_^) take care

kuroo headcannons ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

thank you so much!! and thank you for the request!! here are some of my silly headcannons for this dork kuroo tetsurou ヽ(^◇^*)/ (also here’s the link to the kuroo playlist i made)

his love language for EVERYONE is teasing them, especially using his height to his advantage to pick on shorter people

doesn’t really study all that much but has crazy good grades

always walks you to class and surprises you during breaks with snacks

constantly picking on you (guys it just means he likes you)

helps you study but not without making fun of you for being ‘dumb’ first

unironically uses reddit and is constantly reading aita stories

i feel like mentally he’s a middle aged white dad

his favorite show is rick and morty or south park

his mom still packs his lunch (he would pack it but he always forgets)

not secretive about anything, like the entire nekoma team knows his phone password

has very creative insults in arguments

type of guy to eat like instant ramen at 8 am and not have a stomach ache

has a weird amount of sponge bob clothes

doesnt have a skincare routine, doesn’t even use face wash when he washes his face but has perfect skin

honestly he’s kind of a dork

can never tell when girls are flirting with him (girls always think he’s flirting first bc of how he talks)

super good at imessage 8ball

loves grabbing fast food and just eating with you or his friends in the parking lot

plays scrabble on his ipad during class

listens to rock and metal bands

sarcastic af

the worlds louded snorer, sleepovers with him are crazy

at the gym a lot and always asking you to come, sometimes he forces kenma to come too (trust he’s on those work out bikes with his switch in his hands)

gets so nervous when trying to compliment you so he’s just like stuttering and fumbling his words

keeps up with basically every sport

very touchy, always has an arm around you

super confident in your relationship, like he trusts you 110%

loves brushing/playing with you hair, probably knows how to braid hair too

always packs snacks, water and medicine just for you

if anyone else asks him if he has those things on him he says no 😭

looks so good in sweat pants

he met your mom one time and she’s always asking about him now (she loved him and wants you guys to be together)

likes the weirdest foods, like he eats the craziest food combos

literally drinks out of a 64 oz yeti water bottle and refills it hourly

probably really likes deathnote and is always watching those hour long video analysis about the characters and the story

brings a speaker to practice and forced the nekoma team to make a practice playlist with him

tries every new video game with kenma

probably loves hot topic and spencer’s

has a garfield mug

[lorelune]

dreamer's envy

|| dan heng x reader || E/18+ || first time, comfort, lore || wc: 13.4k  || ao3 ||

Dan Heng is haunted by the memories of a man he no longer is. You are all to willing to help him.

minors, antis and ageless blogs dni

notes: ahhh!!! beloved dh... df... yx... this fic is a bit of a love letter to reader insert character studies and ship fic. making my two faves kiss on the mouth fr. thank you so much to @yinyuedijun for beta reading along the way!! hope you enjoy 💗

CW: reader is referred to with they/them pronouns and afab anatomy, previous dan feng/yingxing, descriptions of gore, descriptions of intimacy issues, author-created lore (plot crafted prior to penacony release), interpretations of HCQ lore, multiple characters experiencing post-trauma

NOTE: this piece is written in two points of view. one is from dan heng’s perspective, where the “you” he is referring to, is you, as in the reader. the other perspective is second-person pov where the narrator ('you') is dan feng. in these portions, 'you' have a cock and the assorted anatomy. these portions are written in italicized text.

Your hands shake. Your thighs tremble. Yingxing lays between them, your cock nestled in his mouth. It’s not sizable enough to hit the back of his throat, but Yingxing, ever the sensitive man, still has tears pricking the corners of his eyes. You stifle a moan into your hand, hastily slapped over your mouth.

Yingxing will not have it.

A strong, calloused hand grabs your wrist and yanks it. He pins your hand by your side, intertwining your fingers. He pulls off your cock with spit-slick lips and smiles. 

“Beloved,” Yingxing speaks in a purr, soft and gentle and comforting against your ears. “You know I love to hear all of those sounds of yours. You’re not getting shy on me, are you?”

There’s a hint of mischief to his voice. You huff and kick at his back.

“Hurry up,” you snap at him. There's a bite to it; you mean there to be. Yingxing only looks amused by your tone— the only one on the entire Luofu who could possibly look joyful, when met with your distinct ire.

“Can’t I take my time?” Yingxing asks, licking from your balls, to base, to the head of your cock. You’re— wet. Leaking pre down your shaft. “May I undo you, my flower?”

“You’re an awful man. I will have you imprisoned.”

“You’d never.”

“You’re right, I’d do worse.” You have so many ideas brewing behind your eyes— ways to punish this wretched man for toying with you. Treating you so kindly and with such humor and wit. There is no one else like him— no one else in your many, lonely years who has lanced you in the way that Yingxing has. How treacherous of him, to steal your heart. 

“You’ll have to tell me all about the ways you’ll punish me,” Yingxing hums, pushing the tip of your cock against his lips. It’s obscene. The skin at the corners of his eyes crinkle. “After you cum down my throat, though.”

Yingxing, that bastard of a man, takes you into his mouth against, bobbing his head, sucking and running the flat of his tongue over the bottom of your cock. It’s too much, all at once—

And how prettily you moan when you become undone (again) under this wonderful, awful man—

✶    ✶    ✶    ✶    ✶   ✶

Dan Heng wakes up with such a start, he nearly vomits. He does dry heave, snatching the conveniently placed trash can nearby and dropping his head inside to sputter. Spit dribbles off his lips and falls in globs to the bottom of the basket.

He sets it aside and rubs the heels of his hands over his eyes.

Again.

Again, again, again— he has these dreams all too often. Of a life that is not his, of a lover that couldn’t possibly, ever be his. They’re visceral, vivid— as though Dan Heng is experiencing them in real time, and they’re not some awful figment that clings from a past life.

They plague him, simply. He hates every moment of them.

The pleasure of them feels poisonous. That man is not him. Yingxing— is not his. The body that writhes and gasps is not his own. He’s an onlooker, a distant stranger looking in on something intimate and dead. It’s torture, really, but Dan Heng is an expert is quiet endurance, so he copes. 

He stands, still wearing day clothes, and drags himself from his sleeping bag on the floor. His companions on the Astral Express all stated their initial concern with his choice of lodging and lack of a bed, but they’ve since calmed. Everyone on the Express has their quirks. It’s like how March sleep walks, Stelle occasionally glows from her chest, and you only sleep once every few weeks and never in your own room. Dan Heng enjoys his spot in the Archives due to the various motors and machinery that lay under the floor. It’s warm, far toastier than any other room, or bed for that matter. 

(He is not Dan Feng. However, Dan Heng cannot deny that his more draconic instincts are somewhat intact.)

Dan Heng throws on his slouchiest sweater, threadbare and worn, and wanders to the parlor car. An hour or so of pacing usually cures him of any antsiness, and he can nurse a cup of tea while he walks too.

This night, however, you sit in the parlor car as well. Dan Heng slows as he sees you.

You’re— an enigma to him really. Everyone on the express is a bit of a misfit, but you are a newer addition to the bunch, and he and the rest of the crew are still grappling with your oddities. 

Dan Heng has, since the moment he first met you, accepted he would never fully understand you. He made peace with it, moved on and has kept his distance except when necessary. It is better this way.

You’re staring, side-long, out of one of the wide windows of the car. Your chin is perched on your palm and your perpetually blood-shot eyes are half-lidded. Dark circles are punched beneath them. You look like shit. You always look like shit, and you have assured the crew that this is normal, despite March’s initial fretting. 

When you notice him staring, a kind smile curls on your lips and you wave, good-natured.

“Hey there, sleeping beauty. Are you doing alright?”

“I’m fine.” It’s not the first time you two have met like this. The Parlor Car is empty, except the two of you and the dimly glowing whale fixture that hangs from the ceiling. It feels familiar, much more comfortable than the... unwelcome familiarity of his own dreams. “I’m just fetching a cup of tea.”

“Ah, a night cap?” You hum, and crack your neck. “Sounds needed. That last dream of yours was wild.” 

Dan Heng frowns, “I’ve asked you before to quit that, please. It’s invasive.”

“I would if I could,” You shrug. “But, I can’t. Besides, your dreams are loud, Dan Heng. I’d be unable to ignore them even if I was at the back of the train.” 

“Can you at least not mention them?”

“I mean, I can not. But... they clearly upset you, don’t they?” You tilt your head, eyes soft. “Would you like to talk about them at all? I don’t mind listening.”

“They aren’t your concern.”

“I’m aware of that, but that doesn’t stop me from caring. I know they’re distressing.”

“You’re prying.”

“I’m asking, Dan Heng.” You sound a little desperate. Standing, you pass by him, in the direction of the passenger car. “You can say ‘no, my fellow Nameless, I would like you to never speak of me and my upsetting sex dreams,’ and I won’t ever mention them again. I don’t mean to be a thorn in your side, but the past is easier to bear in the present if you can lean on folks.”

Dan Heng is silent, stewing and stirring under his skin. 

By the time he has a reply formulated, you have left the parlor car. The only sign that you’d ever been there to begin with is a patterned knit blanket left where you were sitting. 

Dan Heng snatches it up before he can convince himself not to and returns to his room to add it to his ground-bound nest.

...

Welt had found you outside of a space station, idling around a refueling station. You’d been wearing a dirty utility jumpsuit with the emblem of some IPC-owned subsidiary screen-printed on the pocket. Your eyes had been glassy and far away. When Welt asked if you were alright, you had smiled and told him, “Actually, I’ve never been worse.”

The Express loves strays. It’s ultimately what he, Stelle, and March are. Welt to some extent as well, especially considering his several layers of mystery. Himeko has the disposition of a kind leader and the heart of a mother, and for all of Pom Pom’s fretting, they are always interested in a new face aboard the Astral Express, for however long they choose to be there.

It’s sensical that you were given a shower, a hot meal, and a room before you even fully understood what you were signing up for with the Express.

Dan Heng was, notably, wary of you. It was the way you looked at him after the first night you slept on the Express (one where he had predictably been plagued with images of a body that wasn’t really his being fucked and loved in a way Dan Heng couldn’t conceptualize his actual self receiving). There was clear concern etched in your expression, however you never voiced it. Not at first.

It was only after a few weeks that March pointed out you hadn’t slept since your arrival that you revealed your hand.

A bloodline blessed by the Aeon of Dreams, Sacha. 

Dan Heng had heard of the Aeon, distantly. A seldom-traveled path, one for those with imagination run wild and a penchant for long naps. There were whispers that the Aeon was asleep, constantly. Otherwise, dead. Regardless, you bore the Godbeing’s blessing in some way.

You revealed this during a routine coffee break, just before Welt, March and Stelle descending to a little sandy moon. Perched on a chair, legs curled over your chest, you’d laughed when March pointed out your lack of good sleeping practices.

“I don’t need to, so I tend not to. It’s a difficult habit to break.” 

You had explained to Dan Heng and Himeko that you and your kin, a race descended from a small planet from a dead solar system, all bear this blessing. No need for sleep and—

“I perceive the dreams of others.”

Dan Heng had questioned, immediately— “Perceive?”

“That’s the best way to put it.” You meet his eye and you look slack in your shoulders. Unbearably calm and tired. “What you dream, I experience along with you. The more I focus in, the more vivid it is.”

(Dan Heng is horrified and doesn’t speak to you for a week.)

After some significant, quiet panic, Dan Heng had politely asked you to not perceive his dreams if you could help it. 

You’d told him you’d do your best.

And Dan Heng— appreciates the effort. Even if it's clear it's not working. You are so often up when he rises for his customary tea and jaunt, and tend to prod him a little. At least stop him to chat for a moment or tea. You’ll sneak in a cheeky comment or two, usually, but they’re so quick Dan Heng can’t do much more than blush and stumble over his next sentence.

You look highly amused and soft, those nights.

You never ridicule him, which he appreciates. More often you look pleasantly neutral, as if trying to emulate the aura of a familiar house plant near a skittish black cat.

(Dan Heng knows he is the skittish black cat.)

It’s— too much really. Dan Heng would rather bear it alone, take his cup of tea and do his laps, but he also can’t find it in him to tell you off too harshly. You tend to favor the parlor car, anyway. You get lost in the stars and galaxies they traverse easily. It would feel cruel to ask you to sequester yourself to your room simply so Dan Heng can brood more effectively.

Dan Heng does not know what to do about his own haunting (arousing) dreams, nor does he know what to do with you and your unfazed smiles.

...

You straddle Yingxing’s lap, thighs tense as you roll your hips. Your lover’s length grinds inside of you, stroking something small and hot and so good you could get drunk on it. You chase the sensation, selfish. Your hands are braced behind you, on Yingxing’s thighs as he is sprawled below. 

His cheeks are flushed and his hair is a knotted mess. A hastily ripped piece of fabric binds Yingxing’s wrist together and secure to the stained wood of the bed frame.  You were kind enough to carefully pull out his favored hairpin (a gift, one you commissioned him to make... for himself. Without his knowledge. Yingxing was moderately huffy about it until you tucked it into his hair yourself.) and set it aside. 

Yingxing is not a weak man, but you are a Dragon, and therefore keeping him restrained and tethered is not difficult. Usually, you allow Yingxing the privilege of carving out your insides at his leisure and pace. There’s a sweet torture to it you have found yourself having grown fond of. 

There is no other soul, mortal or otherwise, short-lived or long-lived, that you would allow to exert such control over you. Yingxing is an exception for you in so many ways. How dear this (foolish) craftsman has become to you.

“B-Beloved,” Yingxing’s voice is tight, strained. There’s sweat beading on his temples. “Might I persuade you into moving?”

You hum. Your tail wraps around his leg, from ankle to thigh and squeezes. The feathered tail flicks at Yingxing’s tense muscle and he jolts under you. A glittering laugh leaks from the corner of your mouth.

“Persuade me then.”

“Y-You’re not making this easy, are you?”

“I told you I wouldn’t. And you still agreed.”

“I thought the great Yinyue Jun would grant me some mercy at least. Excuse my wishful thinking. I thought that my dearest husband would forgo being a brat for at least a single night—”

You scoff.

You roll your hips, slow and deliberate. Yingxing’s words are cut off, killed in his throat as his eyes roll back into his skull. Keeping your core tight, you bury his cock in your hole to the hilt. You’re flush together, panting. It’s a tight squeeze, it always is. But the slight burn is familiar and welcome as you throw your head back and moan.

The sound is sin. If any of the Preceptors knew what this man did to you, he’d be drowned in Scalegorge within the day. 

Yingxing curses in a tongue you don’t know— it’s his mother’s language, he once told you. He tries to buck up into your heat, but you hold him down and steady. Clicking your tongue and racking your nails down his chest. Thin welts rise in your wake. Yingxing lets loose a choked gasp as you slide down on his cock. The stretch is so, so good. You crave this ache. You fantasize about it when you surely shouldn’t. It haunts your—

Dreams?

✶    ✶    ✶    ✶    ✶   ✶

Dan Heng wakes up so hard it physically hurts. He gasps, muffling a half-there sound into his pillow. It’s shameful. He feels out of his mind as he flips onto his stomach and ruts into his nest of blankets. The friction is dry, scratchy, and barely enough. However— the phantom sensations of a dead lover crawl over him. Nostalgic and tragic and nauseating.

He comes with a sob that he prays no one hears. He stains the front of his boxers as he grinds his oversensitive cock against the wet fabric. It’s too much. He’s too sensitive. It hurts, but Dan Heng doesn’t know what else to do.

He feels ashamed as he sits up and runs a hand over his face. 

It’s usually not this bad. Usually he can will away any arousal with logic. Reminding himself that the pleasant touch and face he remembers is long gone and was never his to have to begin with. Only on a few occasions has he woken up disoriented enough to forget himself to actually get off.

He needs to shower.

Dan Heng blearily leaves his room with his towel slung over his arm. The showers are on the other side of the passenger car. Dan Heng turns the spray on the highest heat, cooking himself as much as he can bear. There’s a latent energy in him that always swirls, begging him to push and pull the water around him, harness it for even a moment—

Before Dan Heng can entertain such things, he exits the spray, flushed bright red with his towel around his waist. 

As he exits the shower, he finds you. 

You’re perched one of the plush couches, tucked into a nook in the passenger car. Your signature blanket is not with you. You look— like shit. Dark circles stamped but your eyes look alight.

Dan Heng freezes as you notice him.

“... You alright?” You ask him.

“I’m fine.”

“You sure, bud?”

“Yes.”

“Uh-huh.”

”You’re patronizing me.”

You stumble, “I don’t— I don’t mean to. That was just—”

“Please do not—”

“A lot.”

Your cheeks are flushed as you rub at them. Your gaze flits up to his then averts to the floor. You look... shy. It’s an expression he’s never seen you wear before, even when you were pulled onto the express filthy and in a heavily patched jumpsuit. 

Something in Dan Heng’s chest squeezes. He doesn’t know what to say. He feels entirely too exposed. He’s not fully dry, and he can feel droplets of water dripping from his hair down to his shoulders. His throat bobs as he gulps you watch the movement with rapt attention. 

He coughs.

“I asked you to refrain from viewing my dreams.”

“That one was loud.” You frown. “Incredibly loud. Like banging pots and pans, fireworks and explosives kind of loud. I couldn’t have ignored it, even though I very much want to. I’d love to give you your privacy, Dan Heng, but sadly the intricacies of your mind happen to make your dreams essentially unignorable.”

“Must you comment on them?”

“... I heard you crying after.” Your expression looks uncharacteristically torn up. Your lackadaisical smile and humor are nowhere to be found. “I was worried.”

“I can assure you, I am fine. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“I do, regardless. The whole Express does.”

“I appreciate it. Though, it’s unnecessary.”

“Of course. Sure. Because you’re the paramount example of ‘not needing care’.”

“I’m self-sufficient.” This time, he frowns.

“You are.” You stand up and walk toward him. “‘Sufficient’ implies adequacy, not prosperity.”

“What are you implying?”

Your hands ball into fists at your sides, “That you, Dan Heng, seem like you could use some help. I won’t pry at your past, I’m aware it’s not my place to do so— however routinely having uncomfortably vivid sex dreams about a man who you clearly have complex feelings about, probably isn’t good for you. There’s an inevitable amount of strain. One that I think that you’re ignoring.”

“What help do you think I need?” His voice remains level, but your proximity has him wriggling under his skin.

“... I— could be a decent listener. I have all the time in the world. I’m always around at night.” You struggle to meet his gaze, but after a moment, your usual, easy smile erupts on your face. “Or, would you prefer more... direct assistance? I could help with that too.”

“Speak plainly.”

“Was the last time you had sex with the man in your dreams?”

Dan Heng’s throat closes up. The cloudhymn that are under his skin thrum and encircle him, for just a moment. Your eyes widen at the colors and hum of it and jump back. You almost stumble. The surge of power and energy shakes the passenger car. The whale-shaped light fixtures dance above you. 

Dan Heng swallows.

“And if it was?”

You look at him, really look at him, and your eyes soften. Your center looks wide and vulnerable despite the churn in the air, “Then, do you think it could, perhaps, be helpful to add some more recent, pleasurable memories for your dreams to play with?”

Dan Heng flushes so quickly, he feels faint.

The instinctual cloudhymns around him die in an instant. He retreats, a firm grip remaining on the towel around his waist to keep it in place. He mumbles out a hasty ‘goodnight’. 

He is unsure if you hear him.

... 

In the days that follow, neither Dan Heng nor yourself, bring up your proposition. 

The next morning, you look expectedly exhausted, but do not prod or pry at him any further. You sit at the long table for breakfast and munch on a piece of bread and some jam while Himeko goes over your next destination. 

The few times you look at him, your smile is lazy and easy, however you turn away quickly. 

You continue to skillfully avoid him. 

Dan Heng— feels a bit bad about it. Maybe a lot. If he enters common spaces like the parlor car or dining car, you quickly leave after a peripheral greeting. You must be doing so as to not tip off the rest of the crew that there’s some amount of… tension between the two of you. Under different circumstances, Dan Heng would have appreciated the purposeful discretion, however something about it irks him. 

The Express’s next destination is a repurposed space station at the edge of a solar system. A false sun, powered by a Stellaron— something to that effect. Stelle’s bodily composition is of some intrigue to the scientists looking to craft a replacement, while other factions wish to harness the Stellaron more directly than a not-so-distant source of light and heat. 

Himeko’s engineering expertise is being requested, along with Welt’s understanding of Imaginary energy. March wants to go due to the complex system of bioluminescent algae that teems in the space station’s plentiful aquaponics infrastructure. (“It looks so pretty! I need photos!”)

There are very few reasons for Dan Heng to accompany them; the party’s already full. There are even fewer reasons for you to join, who, despite all of your assurances, looks particularly haggard and worse for wear. Both March and Himeko mother hen you into staying aboard the Express to keep Pom Pom company.

Dan Heng should make an excuse to leave as well. Something in his gut tells him it would be best to keep his distance from you.

(It would be easier that way.)

However, Dan Heng finds himself waving goodbye to his companions as they dock at the small port. Pom Pom has requested at least a single treat from their excursion while they wave exuberantly from his side. 

You stand on Pom Pom’s right, lazily waving as well. Your shoulders are slumped.

As Pom Pom aways to dust the fixtures in the parlor car, Dan Heng faces you and speaks without thinking.

”You should rest.”

You blink owlishly at him. “… That’s not necessary.” 

”You don’t look well.”

”You’re quite the charmer, aren’t you?”

”I am being serious.”

”So am I.” You roll your eyes and shrug. 

You attempt to walk away from him, but Dan Heng finds himself reaching out to grab your arm. His hand wraps around your forearm securely, firmly. 

You still, wide-eyed.

”You can sleep, can’t you?”

”… I mean, yes?” You frown, glancing at his hand then back to his face. 

“Would it help?”

”Help what?” 

Dan Heng deadpans. “You’re exhausted.”

”… Dearest Dan Heng, I am always in this state. I apologize if my withered countenance has caused you grief. I am fine.”

You attempt to wrench your arm from his grip, but he doesn’t let you go. Your frown deepens. 

“Being intentionally daft isn’t wise.”

You stare at him, “I’m not being ‘intentionally daft.’”

”I beg to differ.”

You mutter something in a tongue that Dan Heng doesn’t recognize. “What’s your deal? I apologize for getting into your business previously. I have been trying to give you ample space and shut out your dreams to the best of my ability. Is that not enough?”

”No.” No, no, no— that’s not really. It. Dan Heng isn’t sure what it is, but at this moment, his mood has little to do with your knowledge of his horrible, awful, persistent wet dreams, but something else. “I’m not upset at you for that.”

You stare and your hands ball into fists, “So, you’re really pestering me over my well-being?”

”Yes?”

”Aeons, Dan Heng.” You say his name in a croon and it makes him shudder. He wants to scream. “It really isn’t a big deal.”

”Is it straining you to not… perceive my dreams?”

Your expression goes blank. “I mean. Yes. But, it’s not a big deal—“

“You look awful.”

”You can’t have both.” You are clearly frustrated. Dan Heng’s grip is unrelenting. “I can’t— I can’t attempt to block out your silly sex dreams without a not-insignificant amount of effort. I’m either going to be very keyed into that pretty silver-haired man who you clearly wish was in your bed, or I’m going to look a bit more worse for wear. The latter, Dan Heng, does not bother me. Fretting over me isn’t going to make me less worn down.”

”And you just… don’t care that you’re tired?”

“I’m always tired.” You smile then, the same lazy, curling quirk of your lips that you so often wear, ever since the Express dragged you aboard from that rest stop. Dull-eyed and wearing a filthy utility jumpsuit. “I don’t want to cause you all any additional grief. I wish you wouldn’t worry about me.”

Dan Heng doesn’t know what to say.

“... That isn’t your choice.” The words feel paltry, half-there.

You pull your arm from his grip, thumbing at the spot where he held you. Your soft day clothes have rumbled under his grip, “That’s hilarious, coming from you, Dan Heng.”

“This is different.”

“How so?” 

“Because—” Dan Heng clicks his tongue. Something— something simmers just under his chest. Something bigger than himself, salty like the sea and heavy like green stone that writhes as you stare him down. “Because my dreams are my business. The man— men— in my dreams are my ills to carry. They should not affect my present. You shouldn’t be affected by them.”

“Well, crazy, but I am—” You go nose-to-nose with him and huff. Dan Heng backs into a railing behind him, back curving. “Because I don’t like seeing you in pain—”

Something kicks Dan Heng’s shin and he hisses. You jump away from him with a stumble, looking down at a glowering Pom Pom. Their tail twitches.

“No fighting in my parlor car!” Pom Pom huffs. “Does Pom Pom need to get Miss Himeko’s ‘get along’ shirt?”

“That’s not necessary,” Dan Heng rushes to say.

You’re already walking away, out of the parlor car with a shake of your head and one last wistful look.

...

You tear your heart from your chest.

It is expectedly painful, even if you braced for it. Even if in your deepest meditations, you simulated the pain of such a loss with cloudhymn to prepare for this moment, on the off chance you would need to lose your heart from between your ribs and give it to your beloved. So few of Long’s scions retain the ability to rebirth with multiple hearts— only a handful of high elders, really. You can imagine what they will say about you, think about this act you’re committing.

Sin. And a painful one.

The blade in your hand clatters to the ground as you hold your heart in your own palm. It’s large— a dragon’s heart. It will not fit in the chest of a mortal. 

(But, you will make it fit.)

Yingxing is— is— he’s dead. He’s a corpse on the ground below you. One of his arms is missing, while the other is twisted at a most unnatural angle. His star silver hair is a tangled knot in the dirt, Yingxing’s favored hairpin shattered somewhere in the foreground. The color is no longer pure. It’s a dirty scarlet. A mix of your beloved’s blood and Shuhu’s. 

Yingxing’s eyes are half open and dull. Purple turned bruised-petal lilac. His lip is split and blood trickles from the corner of his lips,

This is not to say anything about his middle which is—

Not really there.

It makes inserting the heart easier. You think so anyway. Your hands shake (they never have before, not like this) and you cry (you have not cried like this before) as you shove the heart into Yingxing’s necrotic chest. You have to further break his ribs to shove your heart into him. Cloudhymn spins around you— a storm, a gale for you. It dulls the screams from your younger companion begging you to stop. A beast roars in the distance, above it all. The sound makes the air tremble and split. Your ears would bleed, were you a weaker species. 

(A necessary sacrifice— she— she was already dead. Past saving. You only have two hearts. One which is yours and one which is now—)

Yingxing’s.

Your beloved flinches. Lurches as unnatural growth burgeons from him. He wails on the ground as magics spin within him. You are doing the most unholy thing to him. But, you must, right? You cannot lose him. You cannot lose Yingxing. You have given everything, always, as every self, to your role and its meaning— can you not have this one thing? May your beloved not stay by your side, however unfair and painful the circumstances?

Unblemished, ghostly pale tissue regrows from Yingxing’s body at an alarming pace. It rejoins his upper and lower halves together as he screams. 

Yingxing’s hands wrap around your neck and you’re shoved into the dirt. You are not expecting the force and the impact, even less so. The air knock out of you and the cloudhymns shudder. The magics are thinner for a moment, you could see your other companions if you chose to. You could see how many Xianzhou cloud knights have fallen to the beast you created.

You ignore them.

You ignore them all to look up at your beloved. Eyes now a wild red, teeth glimmering white and stained with blood. His hair has darkened, silver turned dark, like it had been dipped in thick, viscous oil. Yingxing bares his teeth and screams at you. 

“WHAT DID YOU DO!”

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE, DAN FENG!”

—!

✶    ✶    ✶    ✶    ✶   ✶

Dan Heng awakens to a silent Astral Express. The trainship is still docked and it’s running on ancillary power in the meantime. 

It’s entirely too quiet. All he can hear is the pounding of his own heart.

He scrambles to grab at his own chest— there’s no gaping hole. There’s no— there’s no blood on his hands (not real, material blood anyway . Various parties would beg to differ as to if he has any actual blood on his hands. But, the past is the past, isn’t it? These dreams are the afterimages of the life of a deadman. That’s all they can be. The man that chases him across the universe bears a different name and a younger face. The man who will always make time for him on a Godship, so very far away, may use his name ‘Dan Heng’, but is that who he truly sees when he looks at Dan Heng?)

Dan Heng dry heaves into his hands.

He barely manages to crawl to the little bathroom attached to his room to puke his brains out. He hasn’t had much of an appetite over the past few days, and most of what comes up is water, pile, and half-digested rice porridge.

By the time he withdraws and flushes, wiping his hand over his mouth, he feels winded. Disgusting. Sweaty and entirely too wet. 

Shower.

Dan Heng methodically grabs his few supplies and walks across the silent Astral Express to the showers. He could take a bath— maybe it would help. March keeps minty bath products out and available that are so strong that they tend to pull any of the Express’s passengers out of a funk if used. There’s a little basket of them in the tiled common area of the baths. There’s a hand-written note in March’s perfect scrawl that says “Please take one❤️!) 

Dan Heng snatches a few before picking his favored, individual shower. There’s a little atrium before entering the shower itself, where he sheds his drenched bedclothes and hangs them, along with his towel. He turns on the shower and idles for a moment, listening to the dull roar of it.

Water splashes onto him in droplets. There’s a (dormant. Dormant. He swears it’s dormant) instinct to ball the errant water up and toy with it with cloudhymn. The pearl that idles in the center of Cloud Piercer has many different ways to harness its power beyond a weapon of steel that—

(Isn’t his, is it?)

Dan Heng wants to vomit again. He steps into the spray before the nausea overtakes him.

The spray is cold— he usually takes cold showers, regardless of if it’s after a particularly intimate dream. He prefers cold water. He enjoys cold baths, but they’re a luxury he enjoys only once in a while, and usually for the better part of a day. He’ll stay submerged for what would be a worrisome amount of time (if he didn’t bear the spare parts of imbibitor lunae) and, despite his assurances, worries the rest of the crew. As sedentary and reclusive as Dan Heng can be, camping out in the baths for the better part of a day causes a stir amongst the express.

They’re a treat, a bothersome one.

Now, he washes himself thoroughly. It’s a mechanical and rhythmic thing. It soothes him. His breath comes steadier.

Dan Heng hasn’t had a dream that unpleasant in quite some time. He has always had the more gruesome— of tragedies beyond this knowledge. But, they’re rarer. He is haunted more frequently by memories of pleasure and that almost makes the shadow of Dan Feng more cloying. The gruesome are just that— gruesome. He has put together pieces of Dan Feng’s sin, though he refuses to touch the Archive’s documents ported from the Luofu on the subject. 

Ignorance is bliss and Dan Heng feels knowledgeable enough. The breach between his own memories and Dan Feng’s is less solid than it once was. Dan Heng will more than likely find out with time.

It despairs him for a moment as he turns off the water and towels off. He feels— more lucid. Better. 

He’s surprised that you haven’t sought him out.

There’s— no way you didn’t perceive that dream. Dan Heng can’t be entirely sure what you mean when you call a dream ‘loud’, but he knows the very real pain he felt during it could constitute as such. He listens closely as he dresses in new bedclothes. The Express is still quiet aside from machine hum.

Dan Heng could check on you. He thinks about it. Your room is just past Stelle’s and considering you weren’t in the parlor car, you’re probably there.

You shouldn’t have seen that. But, it’s not like Dan Heng can help it, right? 

The tangle of feelings within Dan Heng writhes as he exits the showers. It grows even more unruly as he notes a change in the parlor car.

Resting on one of the plush seats is a hastily folded blanket, a still-steaming cup of tea, and a small, folded note.

Dan Heng approaches and reads.

DH

i’ve noticed you like my blankets. take this one. it’s one of my favorites.

have some tea and rest if you can.

— [name] ╰(*°▽°*)

The penmanship is shaky, and clearly quickly written. None of the paper’s folds match up with each other. There’s a spill of tea on the coffee table that looks half-wiped away. 

Something heavy settles in Dan Heng’s gut. He gathers the blanket, the tea, and your note and heads back to the archives with a pit in his chest.

Like he’s still missing a heart.

...

Things come to a head a few days later. The rest of the Astral Express crew is still sorting things on the space station, and you and Dan Heng only have so much space to dodge each other.

And, truthfully? Dan Heng stopped avoiding you the day before yesterday. Now, he is actively (read: passively but passionately) trying to seek you out. This involves listening keenly for when you leave your room, but lately, those trips are few and far between. And always occurring while Dan Heng is asleep. Pom Pom confirms this, looking increasingly uneasy at the clear tension between the two of you.

Dan Heng— doesn’t know what to do. He is good at running from his problems. He put Cloud Piercer through— Blade’s chest any number of times and hopped to the next planet more times than he cared to think about. He ran from the shackling prison, the Luofu, and its General without looking back even in a cursory way. Dan Heng finds sentimentality to be a new feeling, a new fixture within his person and does not know how to handle it. He does not want to run away from you— he wants to run toward you.

The blankets of yours (three in total) are in his nest. He paces the passenger car each night hoping you’ll reveal yourself. He hovers outside of your door, hand poised to knock, but he never does.

He does not know what he’d say. 

Dan Heng does not have confidence in his words in that way. He can speak well— it’s an overhang from Dan Feng, and he is grateful for it, but on more than one occasion, March has (rather explosively) shouted at him for being so... blank-faced in the heat of an emotional conflict. The two of them occasionally do butt heads, usually when March is attempting to run headfirst into a situation without proper forethought, and those encounters have ended with March tearfully screaming at Dan Heng to just be “honest with his face!” 

His lack of expression is also an overhang for Dan Feng. 

No matter how well-crafted his sentences and well-spoken his words, Dan Heng cannot connect them to how he feels... effectively. It’s disjointed. Like armor made with incorrectly sized plates that cannot possibly be pieced together. Clothing created with a misdrawn pattern, never able to be sewn in a wearable way. 

If he were to face you, he is certain he will not be able to voice how he feels.

He can at least— do something. Give you something, since you seem so hellbent on leaving him special tea blends you’ve stashed away and BLANKETS. 

(Do you have any idea what you’re doing to him?)

Dan Heng stops trying to run from you. He resolves to do something or say something because it's better than the widening rift that’s currently being run through the Astral Express, between the two of you. 

Dan Heng gets his opportunity in the late evening. He’d— feigned sleep. Intentionally. A deep state of meditation for long enough that you might think he was enjoying a dreamless night of sleep, however, he’d only be idle, waiting for sounds of any of your activity in the direction of the parlor and meal car. 

Dan Heng hears your door slide open down the hall as he sits upright, cross-legged in his nest of many blankets and pillows. Your steps are quiet, the lightest pad against the flooring outside. He strains to hear you.

He does notice, however, how you move even slower as you walk past his door. So clearly intentionally trying to keep quiet for his sake.

Dan Heng waits a few minutes until he’s certain you’re either in the Parlor Car or Meal Car before uncrossing his legs and bounding from his room. He means— to be more put together about this. But, he’s nervous he’ll miss his chance, and you’ll retreat, and be gone for longer—

Dan Heng finds you in the meal car, poking over cold dinner leftovers with a sullen expression. Your brows are heavy, eyes dull. You look— awful. You always look awful, he’s sure you’ll assure him, but now you look bad. You look ill. Unwell. The oversized shirt hanging from your shoulders billows in an uncomfortable way. It has too many undone buttons, leaving a deep v, exposing too much of your chest.

You look up at him, eyes widening.

“I thought you were asleep.” You say softly, putting down the tongs you had been using. You didn’t bother picking up any food, your little bowl is entirely empty. 

Dan Heng opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He snaps it shut a moment later.

Your eyes soften and you sag. You look like you could melt into the Express’s floor at any moment. Your eyes radiate... pity. 

“Did I wake you? I try to be quiet.” You laugh, looking sidelong, out one of the many windows. “Sorry about the fuss. I’ll get out of your hair.”

Dan Heng is frozen.

You idle, only for a moment, holding your breath, before shaking your head minutely. It— it makes his palms sweat. You try to shuffle past him. Dan Heng is blocking your only exit, and you attempt to side-step him as he gapes at you, unmoving. Unsure.

Dan Heng grabs you by the forearm as you pass.

He holds you there. Steady. His grip is firm and unyielding. Maybe too tight, based on your sharp intake of breath as you wobble in place. Dan Heng steadies you with his other hand. Without— thinking, his palm lands on your ribcage and you jump with the contact.

You stare at him, wide-eyed. 

And you face each other.

“You’re avoiding me.” Dan Heng speaks first. His words feel sure, but there’s a sticky feeling in his chest.

“... Perhaps.” You smile easily, despite how worn you look. “It seems like you have a lot on your mind. I didn’t want my presence and what it entails to burden you, dearest Dan Heng. I apologize if that wasn’t clear.”

“What do you mean by your ‘presence and what entails’?” 

You look like you’ve been punched. Dan Heng feels ill. 

“Exactly what it sounds like.”

“Please be straightforward. 

“Kind Dan Heng, I am—” 

“Please, explain yourself.” Dan Heng feels— frustration bubble up into the back of his throat. It’s acidic. He looks from the grip he has on your arm to your face, lingering on the chapped lines of your lips before meeting your eyes. “Why do you think you would burden me?”

You look at him sadly, “I thought we’ve been over this.”

“We haven’t, to my knowledge.”  Dan Heng frowns. You look like you’ve been slapped.

“I apologize.” You shouldn’t be. “Dan Heng, don’t I know too much?”

He locks his jaw. 

You continue. “You’re an incredibly private person. I don’t want to know about a past you’re clearly not comfortable sharing. I cannot help what I am able to perceive, however I can create some distance between the two of us, so as not to suffocate you with the fact that I know about your dirty laundry without your expressed consent.”

Dan Heng’s mouth is dry. 

You’re an unbearably earnest individual. As mysterious as you make yourself, you don’t tend to lie. You’re blunt in a way that’s disarming, heart flayed open as if rended with a short, sharp blade, on display for anyone who would like to view and poke at it. 

“I apologize for communicating that more effectively,” You add more softly. You place your hand over his, the one bracing your arm. You squeeze. “It must be hard to bear those things, and you’ve made it clear you wish to do so alone. I want to respect that and you, Dan Heng. My door is always open, but I thought it might be easier for you to not... be reminded so easily, by my presence.”

Your eyes are wet as you look away from him, to the floor. You take the smallest, most guarded intake of breath. It looks like you’re trying not to cry.  

Dan Heng feels something cold and large in his chest. Big enough to swallow him whole. 

He says your name, even and unwavering, with the weight of the sea behind it. You glance up at him, straining to give him your same lazy, forced smile—

And he kisses it off your lips.

It’s not an action Dan Heng thinks about. You’re almost close enough to feel each other’s breath regardless. One moment, he is staring at you with his own frown, and the next his lips are on yours, tilting his head to search for the best angle. The force of the action has you stumbling back into the wall behind you. The hand he kept on your ribs moves to your waist, bracing you.

It takes a moment for you to react. A startled little (whimper, a whimper) sound gets muffled by his lips as he cradles your jaw. Deepening the gesture. You react and— return it. Moving your lips against his, leaning into his grip. 

Only to freeze, and shove at his shoulders a moment later, “W-Wait.”

Dan Heng pulls back, panting.

“You don’t have to do this,” you tell him. There’s an urgency in your voice like you’re scared. You nervously run your hands up and down his arms. Dan Heng doesn’t even think you’re aware you’re doing so. “I— I offered sex to you seriously, but— don’t just take my affection because you want to close the distance. There’s other ways to be intimate, you know?”

“I’m aware,” says Dan Heng. Your lips are just barely kiss bruised. He wants to make it worse. It’s an easier expression of the gulf in his chest that writhes with your closeness. “However, I want to fuck you.”

The dullness of your eyes is stolen as they widen. Heat rises in your cheeks. You’re stunned speechless.

...

Dan Heng wants to eat you.

As in, he wants to have you in his mouth, under his teeth and tongue, and get you in his gut so you never go away again. It’s— a draconic instinct. Something carnal and old that could swallow him alive. It is another overhang from Dan Feng. Such bloody impulses aren’t... uncommon for Dan Heng. However, he has learned to temper them with training, combat, and more recently, some expression of cloudhymn.

Never sex, however. Because your initial guess was correct. Dan Heng has not ever had sex, and the last time Dan Feng had had sex, he is fairly certain was a teary, bloody affair with a half-dead, bloodied Yingxing. 

This encounter, however, is very different.

There is no swirling Scalegorge and broken, coral-lined streets. There is no sand grating against his knees over Yingxing's almost-corpse. There is no tempest of his own making, cracking the sky in two, and tearing the world asunder.

Rather, there is his nest of blankets and pillows, and your soft body below him. He straddles your waist, protecting the curve of your thighs with his own. The lights of the Archive’s room are dim, the machine hum below is lulling background noise and comforting. And you— you’re warm— not cold or bloodied. Your eyes are soft, but keen in a different way from the man in the echoes of memory. There’s no sharpness to you, not in your words or your presence.

You’re gentle as you cup Dan Heng’s jaw and drag him closer to kiss him.

“You’re thinking pretty hard.” You murmur against his lips. “Are you sure you want this?”

The question makes him— angry. He still doesn’t know how to voice it, so instead he pressed you down into the floor. A bodily expression.

Your hands tangle in his hair and stroke at the lower curve of his skull. It’s gentle, rhythmic and lulling. It’s nothing like—

✶ — ✶ — ✶ — ✶

Yingxing tears at your scalp, hands wound into your long hair. His cock is buried in your throat, bullied there at your request. He’s seated so deep that your nose is buried in the bristly, silver hairs at the base of him. His scent is intoxicant, musky and unclean. Instinct tells you it’s impure, but you have learned that’s conditioning.

You want to swallow him whole.

You swallow around his cock as Yingxing grinds into your throat. You gag, you always do, but Yingxing ignores you in favor of fucking your face with more vigor. The sounds that drag from you are obscene. Ugly things, guttural sounds. Tears drip down your cheeks, spit down your chin—

✶ — ✶ — ✶ — ✶

You kiss him softly, pliant beneath him and snake a hand lower, easily. It’s practiced. Like you’ve done this a hundred times. The rhythm of intimacy seems easy. You palm over his increasingly hard cock and smile against his lips.

“Does it feel good?” you ask, voice soft and curling. 

Before Dan Heng can reply, you’re licking up his jaw, to his ear. You nip and suck and Dan Heng can’t help the way his eyes roll back in his head. He groans, rolling his hips against your hand. The friction is dry, but it’s something. Something new and different and not an arousing nightmare. But an arousing reality.

He moans at the contact. The sound startles him.

You seem pleased as you hum against his ear and kiss down from his most sensitive spot, lower, licking over skin with practiced motions. You nip at his collarbones, laughing under your breath when Dan Heng twitches with the pressure of it.

Dan Heng feels— thoroughly disarmed. The feeling grows more intense as you coax him to flip your positions in the next moment.

His back hits the mound of pillows softly. You cradle the back of his head as he moves and massage his scalp.

It’s— the care of it that feels different. There was clearly care between Dan Feng and Yingxing. Too much, in Dan Heng’s opinion— (they shared the kind of care that tore history asunder, love so brilliant and cloying that it could only bring sticky destruction). The kind you give him is different. There’s a warmth in your gaze which is foreign. Yingxing held passion and a brightly burning heat that would surely burn itself out too young. Branding heat.

Yours is tender, the warmth of a hearth you stacked and lit yourself. You beckon him closer with a smile on your lips and hands tangled in his hair. You tug on it, with the barest edge of pain. Dan Heng likes it. 

Your knee slots between his thighs, something to grind onto. He can’t help the way he yearns for more contact, and seeks the friction. His pants are too tight, but he doesn’t want to remove them yet.

✶ — ✶ — ✶ — ✶

Yingxing tears off your clothes. Your finest robes— the ceremonial ones, silks with intricate embroidery and beaded with perfectly cut crystals— are in tatters by your bedside within moments. Yingxing’s want is unyielding. The lips that move against your own are so much, and so good. You crave it. Yingxing licks into your mouth and you moan loud enough for your entire home to hear. Never mind your attendants and preceptors. 

Let them talk. Let them gossip. You have never cared for legacy regardless.

Yingxing rips away your undergarments. Gossamer things, thin and mostly see-through. You’re already hard, leaking, aching for touch. Yingxing spits on his palm and strokes you. He doesn’t stop as you squirm. You’re not used to touch, especially not like this. No matter how often Yingxing takes you like this, your body cannot fully acclimate quickly. 

It takes a moment.

Yingxing uses this to his advantage. He holds you like he has something to prove as he swipes away pre from the head of your cock and licks it off his thumb. He looks smug, smitten, vibrant, and enthralled.

“How many times can I make you come tonight?” Yingxing purrs, voice rough and silken all at once. You feel your cock twitch in his hand. He smirks. “What if I break you?”

“I’d throw you through a window.” You snap at him.

“You wouldn’t.” Yingxing rubs down to the base of your cock and plays with your most tender parts. You try to kick him and he catches your ankle. Yingxing, the bastard he is, presses a kiss to your ankle. Reverent. “You like it when I break you.”

“You’re terrible.”

“And I’m yours. And I’d like to make Yinyue-Jun cry tonight.” 

It’s— humiliating the way he speaks to you sometimes. He adores you. He loves you. And for that reason, he knows he can get away with goading you on and shoving you around as he does. He knows intimately what it all does to you. The way your cheeks flush and your cock leaks down its shaft are enough of an indicator. No one sees you bare. Just— him.

Just him.

✶ — ✶ — ✶ — ✶

Dan Heng starts to remove your clothes. 

You seem surprised when he does. You try to take over the task yourself, but Dan Heng bats your hands away.

He wants to do this.

Dan Heng is methodical with each button and overly careful. He watches the rise and fall of your chest, noting how it hastens as he works on the last few buttons. The garment is pushed off your shoulders and discarded into his nest.

Seeing you bare is— vulnerable. Surely. You attempt to smile but— Dan Heng sees the cracks in it. As lax as you try to be, this is something different for you as well. Another mystery woven into you that Dan Heng wants to pick apart.

He rubs at your hips, up your ribs and to your chest. You gasp with his touch, leaning back to brace yourself on his thighs. It exposes you more, and— gives him more room to indulge. He cups your breast and steels his resolve when you whine.

Dan Heng has never done this. He wasn’t sure he ever would. It feels foreign and odd to touch you this way, but Dan Heng likes it. The heat that rises in your cheeks when he pinches your nipples. The soft puffs of breath and the sweat of arousal that’s growing on your temple. You roll your hips down onto his clothed cock, seeking the same contact he does. 

There’s a tumble to it then. The task of disrobing continues, and you end up entirely nude on top of him, while Dan Heng is still fully clothed.

“... Is this more comfortable for you?” You ask. You aren’t... shy about your body. But there’s an unfamiliar squirm in your upper half that Dan Heng reads as discomfort.

You’re exposed. He is not.

“Somewhat.” Dan Heng lays his hand flat over his navel. He imagines what his cock would feel like inside you and he nearly blacks out.

“Why?”

Dan Heng thinks for a moment—

(It’s because Dan Feng liked power. He loved the games where he could have all of the power and control in his hands, and those where it was torn from him as well. He reveled in both. This— want is an afterburn. One that is not Dan Heng’s. Just like every other thought of intimacy and sex that Dan Heng has ever felt—)

“Dan Heng,” You breathe his name and pet his cheeks. You’re closer now, chest to chest. “Can you tell me why? It’s okay if you can’t.”

“It’s too complicated.”

“... Could you try to tell me, still? We have time.”

“I want to fuck you.”

“You can. After.”

Dan Heng frowns at you. He wants to tell you that— he wants it now. And that patience is something he has in spades but you are testing the limits of. Your poking and prodding, he wants to toss it aside in favor of the literal you in his lap.

He wets his lips as you look at him expectantly. You stroke over his cheek, soothing him as if he were an angry kitten.

“I like that—” Dan Heng starts, and his words die in his throat. What he wants to say—

(“I like that I can see all of you, while not revealing any of myself.”)

You seem like less of a mystery like this, bare and sweaty over top of him. There’s less of you that you can obscure. You’re not hiding from him, dodging him, or flaying him open with honesty while so much of you remains tucked away. You cannot hide your own arousal. Your cheeks are hot with it, your pupils dark and dilated, and your lips are licked and wet. 

“Hm?” You hum, a devious smirk stretching over your lips. You grind down onto his cock, with enough pressure that it almost hurts. His eyes roll back into his head. “Can’t you tell me, Dan Heng? Why do you like hiding the way you do?”

Dan Heng stills, opening his eyes to blink at your incredulously.

“... Why do ‘I’ hide?” Dan Heng asks. His tone is rude. He internally slaps his own wrists then forgives himself, because in the next moment, you have your palm over his cock, gripping the length of him through the fabric of his pants. You flick your thumb over where the head is concealed and look smitten with the way his hips jolt.

“I am not a fool.” You toy with the button on his trousers. “Dan Heng, the Nameless, who hides and hides and hides. And feels so infinitely bad when a single card in his hand is revealed. The shame you carry, doesn’t it burden you?”

Dan Heng’s mouth is dry, “I—”

“You can hide like this. I won’t stop you,” You hum, still smiling, still lax in the shoulders. You run a hand up his navel, over his shirt, careful to retain his frail modesty. “Perhaps a bit bashful, yes. But, you’re hiding. How can you crave intimacy when you’re seeking it from behind a veil? Dearest Dan Heng, I will indulge you, because you are dear to me, but will it be fulfilling—?”

You prattle on.

Dan Heng is... seething. Quietly and carefully. Because, you are not wrong. There’s truth to your accusations. You speak no lies, yet the way you’re... delivering the truth is frail and in fragments. Your own eyes look hazy. Your touch grows shaky. Your voice is too soft around the edges for the sharpness of your words. 

Dan Heng—

He knows that look.

✶ — ✶ — ✶ — ✶

You have never had sex before. 

You’ve read about it, because your Preceptors made sure you did when you were young. This was in the case that you were raped, that you would know what the experience was, so it could be reported in an appropriate and timely manner. 

Your exposure to sex beyond that was minimal. Though Vidyadhara copulated, it was not for the sake of procreation. It was based in pleasure, supposedly. You had learned that the humans and foxians of the Xianzhou had sex for the sake of pleasure and power which... you cannot understand. You don’t endeavor to understand it, as you have all of the power that you need. 

(You are naive for this, you will learn in time.)

The first time Yingxing implores you to have sex, you know the rote motions. You assume— that since he is a human, this is what he wants from you. You let Yingxing push you down on your own mattress, and you lay there. Yingxing speaks as he disrobes himself, then tends to you.

Each layer of clothing he removes from your body feels like you’re being cut with a knife.

You haven’t let any attendants dress you since you learned to adeptly use Cloudhymn to assist yourself instead. You frequently wear three, sometimes four, layers of silken clothing, even when you are around your own home. 

No one sees Yinyue-Jun bare.

And yet, Yingxing peels back each garment without much reverie. He undoes metal and mother-of-pearl clasps with a dexterous flick of his fingers and a dashing, sharp-toothed smile over his lips. 

You look down at his own chest when he pushes away the final layer. Your skin is milky, untouched cream. You’re too skinny, the muscle you have is wiry without enough fat. You watch your own chest rise and fall— so quickly. Too quickly. 

When you look up at Yingxing, whatever smile he had worn is gone. He wears concern so transparently over his brow as he cups your cheek. His lips move, and you do not hear him. Your own lips still move, an instinctual reply even if you do not register your own words. You can predict what you’re saying.

(“I am fine.)

(“There is no need to worry about me.”)

(“You are foolish for worrying about me.”)

Yingxing softens after you speak, and thumbs over your lips. The pads of his fingers are rough. You can feel the heat callouses, born of friction and incidental burns. It’s so much different from your own flesh, constantly-healing, pure and so rarely bruised.

Yingxing deftly falls to your side, and scoops you in his arms. He smells like iron and smoke. You’re stiff at his side. 

He speaks directly in your ear, nosing the shell of it, “As much as I would love to bed Yinyue-Jun, I can recognize when I need to be a gentleman about it.”

“... Pardon?” You swallow. Your voice is foggy in your own ears.

Yingxing’s hand settles on his hip. He pulls back just enough to look at you, nose to nose, violet eyes soft in the amber sway of candles in the room. 

“Yinyue-Jun is very brave, for a virgin.” This time, Yingxing smiles like a menace. You punch his back and he seems unperturbed. “Let’s take our time. You have plenty of it, and I have enough to show you how to enjoy this well.”

✶ — ✶ — ✶ — ✶

Dan Heng understands, then. 

In a smooth motion, he raises his palm to fit over your mouth. You stop speaking beneath it, and you snatch his wrist up in your own grip.

“If I am hiding, then so are you,” Dan Heng says. There is no waver to his voice anymore. “And you are terrified.”

You freeze above him.

It’s enough of an opening for Dan Heng to knit his legs with your own, and drag you down into his nest. He wraps his arms around you, chest-to-chest (covering you, hiding you himself, keeping you safe and sating that fanged, draconic howl in his chest that will never fully quiet). You remain stiff in his arms, eyes wide and you’re not smiling. 

Your gaze flickers up to his and holds it, unrelentingly.

“I don’t mind doing things scared.” You tell him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

“Will you enjoy it if you’re scared?”

“... Maybe less, but it’ll feel nice.” You shrug, nosing at his jaw. “I like you, Dan Heng. I wouldn’t have offered sex if I didn’t want to have it.”

Dan Heng locks his jaw. He noses down your jaw, down your neck, to the juncture where your shoulder meets it. The flesh is tender. You have your free arm draped carefully over your chest, covering your most exposed, vulnerable portions as he tries to do the same to you. Your breath is soft, bated as he hovers.

“I don’t want to have sex with you if it will only feel ‘nice’,” Dan Heng says into the hollow of your throat. 

“How demanding.”

The bar is on the fucking ground. “I do not think so.”

Dan Heng slides a hand lower, between your thighs. You’re only wearing shorts, soft amiri-cotton that sparkles in the lowlight of the archive’s room. It’s a thin garment. It takes nothing for Dan Heng to cup a hand over your sex. With dexterity and focus, he presses his middle finger closer. The seam of your cunt is wet, even through the fabric.

“Are you scared or nervous?” He asks.

“Hm, what about you?”

“Do not dodge my question.” He squeezes over your cunt and you clutch at his shoulders with a gasp. “Just answer it.” 

You consider his question, and open your mouth like you’re going to attempt to parry him, then close it again. Your lips are smooth, petal-soft as he thumbs over them, urging them to stay closed until you have an answer. 

Dan Heng struggles with eye contact, but forces himself to stare you down. 

“Both?” You ask behind his finger. There’s a hint of mirth behind your words.

Dan Heng frowns, “How can it... be enjoyable for you?”

“... That’s a good question.” You look far-off for a moment, not there in his nest. “Not quite sure, but I’m sure I can.”

There’s an implicit ‘I have before’ that you do not say. However, with the way your head falls limply to the side in his grip, Dan Heng immediately knows he hit one of your rare soft spots. He— he immediately regrets it. He’s in uncharted territory that he strong-armed his way into. And he— he doesn’t know the way out. He’s a sexless virgin who masturbates once every three months and his most emotionally (and sexually) charged relationship is with the living ghost of a man insistent on killing him.

✶ — ✶ — ✶ — ✶

Yingxing does not remember much of his youth.

Dan Feng knows this intimately. 

The short-lived have expiring memories that seem to muddle the old over time. Dan Feng cannot understand, as his memory is pristine and clear from the time he emerged from the ancient sea in a jade-colored egg.

Yingxing remembers the Zhuming, vaguely, and then remembers arriving on the Luofu. He vaguely remembers his first meeting with Baiheng, and sleeping on a little cot in her tiny apartment while he worked his way up in the Artisanship Commission. Lucidly, these are his earliest memories.

Outside of lucidity, Dan Feng knows Yingxing remembers more.

Occasionally, something will make Yingxing remember his unpleasant, smallest youth. The loud boom of the Luofu’s biggest fireworks. A snarling dog. Splintering wood. The scent of burnt hair.

It makes Yingxing stiffen, tense, and draw up in himself.

Dan Feng has done his own research early on. In his adolescence, Yingxing was nothing more than a scrappy refugee with nothing to his name.

Yingxing’s home planet, a lush-planet... abundant in jungle lands and river systems, was plundered by abundance. Borisins. Most of its population was wiped out. Yingxing escaped due to good fortune, luck, and no doubt sacrifices he couldn’t remember.

He understands Yingxing’s passion and revulsion much better after he learns these things. 

It all enrages Dan Feng.

Yingxing’s fragmented memory, which continues to weather with time, can only give him the basest impulses when faced with something that makes him remember that frightening time. Even if he cannot remember in the mind, then he does in the body.

Dan Feng does not tell Yingxing that he knows. Yingxing is too proud a man— he’ll take offense and cause trouble. Dan Feng thinks it is better that he himself hold the knowledge, and soothe him how he can. Dan Feng can stew within himself, hone Cloud Piercer, and cut those who slighted his beloved. 

It is something beyond duty. 

An expression of care, one that tastes briny and bloody on Dan Feng’s fangs.

✶ — ✶ — ✶ — ✶

“Can I help?” Dan Heng asks.

You blink at him. He strokes down your cheek. You hum and press your lips into his palm.

“Can you?”

“I— I will,” Dan Heng stammers. “How can I make this less... scary, for you?”

Can he?

Your gaze penetrates him. It’s something sharp, seeking. Looking for his weak spots for a moment. You’re searching for danger in him.

You soften and cozy up closer, a moment later.

“Just... take your time, and I’ll take mine.” You kiss him, and speak against his lips. “It’s easier if we both can ease into it.” 

Dan Heng nods. He... he wants to fuck you. He will.

...

You pick each other apart. Bit by bit, piece by piece. 

It is a slow affair, one neither of you truly lead. You spur Dan Heng on, and he follows. 

He guides you when he can, when it feels natural and normal. You seem content in those moments, more relaxed and soft-eyed.

You do not wear a full facade all of the time, but Dan Heng now knows that you are careful to keep yourself skillfully hidden. 

Dan Heng finds this out, intimately, while he is between your thighs, tongue against your slit. He laps at you, in the motions you describe. Your hands are buried in his hair, directing him with your grip and the gentle grind of your hips against his face. It is— heavenly. Your thighs around his ears, the scent of you. He left a few pointed bite marks on your thighs, which you had yelped at.

He enjoyed giving them.

You fall apart against his mouth in a way he hasn’t seen before.

It’s— so good to watch. When he looks up at you, you gasp, you whine, and throw your wrist over your mouth to muffle the sounds you’re letting out. Each gasp has Dan Heng earnestly trying to wring more out of you. He watches your eyes roll back as you crest. Your thighs clamp around his skull and a broken sound rips from your throat. He guides you through it, then moves to your hole, lapping at your essence until he’s sure he’s drenched in it.

You pull him up for a kiss, and lick into his mouth. Your hands shake as they pet over his cheeks and jaw. Against his lips, you tell him— “you did so well”, “that was so good”, “thank you” —

The praise is almost unbearable Dan Heng has to hide his burning face in your neck to escape the vulnerability of it. 

You pay it no mind, and just laugh at him, smothering your lips into his mused-up hair.

It’s— it’s good. It’s good and soft and nothing like the dreams he’s carried with him for fair too long.

“Did you enjoy that?” You ask him, forcing him to look at you.

“I did.”

“Good.” You’re smitten with the answer and rub at his waist. You’d— clawed off his shirt at one point. Bare to each other. Dan Heng only has on his final layer of underwear that is increasingly tight and wet, with a growing patch of pre on the front.

“Do you want me to suck you off?” You ask. Your hand, gentle, slides down his front, between your bodies to rub over his cock. 

Dan Heng— struggles to find words as you tease the head of it with the tip of a finger. The smile you wear is devilish. 

“Maybe later—” He manages. “I want to— be inside you.”

He wants to be closer.

You look content with that, and pet him some more.

“In due time,” You kiss his cheek. “Will you allow me to be cruel, and make you wait a little longer?”

“It’s not cruel.”

“Okay, mean then.”

“You’re the furthest thing from mean.” Dan Heng frowns. He bites your cheek in retaliation without thinking and you squirm, pinned beneath him. A laugh bubbles from your throat, and Dan Heng can’t help but twin the sound. 

“So kind.”

...

Time stretches out, between languid kissing and the feel of your bare bodies so close, the night and day cycles the Express regulates do not seem of consequence. It’s the most relaxed Dan Heng has been in recent memory. You make it easy to be so.

You have no expectations when you touch him, other than the easy exchange of heat and spit. 

By the time Dan Heng has your legs wrapped around your waist, cock against your hole, he’s light-headed. He wants, so much. The image of you laid out before him, bare and covered in various marks of his, will be with him for years. There’s nothing lazy or unfocused about your gaze now, there’s only desire, so hot and needy that it makes Dan Heng’s throat feel tight.

You flex your hips, pushing the tip of his cock against your clit. You both gasp.

“Please, Dan Heng?” You say smugly as you play with the sweaty hair at the nape of his neck. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“I—” The words die in his throat.

He strokes up and down the flesh of your stomach. Your muscles are relaxed, soft. You’re no longer playing a role, he thinks. You’re here, wanting, edging toward begging him. The head of his cock is purple from strain and prolonged arousal. 

He presses into you slowly.

You are stretched, and Dan Heng isn’t particularly large, so he does not see any strain cross your features. If anything, there’s relief. If you were relaxed before, you’re boneless now, taking as much of him as he will give you.

Dan Heng fucks you in earnest then, under the glow of the Archive’s many machines and fixtures. You grab at his shoulders and bury your face in his neck. Dan Heng didn’t think he shared Dan Feng’s proclivity for pain, however the way your nails wrack down his back has him throbbing from inside you.

By the time he spills inside you, he’s gasping, sobbing with each thrust because it is so much. Closeness— like this— that’s real and tangible and in his grasp and within his body (only his, no one else’s) feels so vibrant and violent, it cleaves him open. He comes with a broken sound muffled into your throat, sinking his teeth into the soft flesh there. You let him, spasming with the pressure and letting out your own half-cry with the pain. Dan Heng fucks you through his orgasm, until he can’t support his weight on his knees, and he falls on top of you.

You let out a little ‘oof’, and then laugh, wrung out and happy. 

Dan Heng cherishes the memory.

✶ — ✶ — ✶ — ✶

You are most tired, but you must continue to move forward.

Despite your aching rear and scratchy eyes, there are duties to attend to. Never mind that your husband is in your bed, knocked out, regardless of whatever regenerative cloudhymns you could give him. Yingxing is mortal, and no matter how much of you he consumes (figuratively), it only slows his aging, never stopping it completely.

Yingxing will die, long before you do. And that is if he dies of old age and not the diseases and maladies of the short-lived. Or some violence that you and the rest of the Quintet will be unable to protect him from.

This will not do.

You enter your study with sweeping, loose robes. You tell your attendants to leave you be. Your ritual obligations are not until the evening. Until then, you will be confine yourself in your study and continue to pour over the scrolls, documents, and books you have been able to find. It has been hard to procure some of them— having Sanctus Medicus texts brought to the home of the High Elder would be treasonous. It has required careful planning to amass the library you have, and you are diligent in keeping it hidden. Even from your lover.

He would not forgive you, were he to know.

You have never been selfish, not once in your life. In any of your lives. You have lived for your people, the Luofu, and a dead Aeon that you remain the after-image of. You have played the part well, smiled when necessary and remained cold enough to rarely stir dangerous interests. You have healed many without complaint.

As you settle into your nest of pillows and blankets, and pick up your newest scroll, you don’t feel that guilty. You will let yourself have this one thing. If nothing else in any of your lifetimes, this one fucking thing will be yours. 

You unfurl the scroll with a yawn. It’s a text, an old one, from the High Elder that followed Yubie. They lived a short life for a high elder, two hundred years. However, they were a prolific scholar. Most of their works have been hidden away with time, as some are downright blasphemous and utilize the Abundance in a way that both the Vidyadhara’s high council and the Luofu’s Charioteers could not tolerate. 

This particular one has not seen the light of day since that High Elder’s time. It is titled:

[The Twin-Hearted Dragon Theory: The Permanence and Abundance’s Coalescing] 

✶ — ✶ — ✶ — ✶

“What a weird one.” You say with a yawn. Dan Heng can hear your voice through your chest, where his cheek is pillowed on your bare chest. He— there’s a spot of drool that’s cooling unpleasantly. He blinks awake and rises off you, to rub the stickiness away, blushing furiously.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. It was cute. You were sleeping good, for once.” You tell him and muse up his hair. “Besides, you’ve gotten me far messier than that.” 

You both are messy. Dan Heng can feel the stickiness on his softened cock, and he imagines you’re leaking between your legs. He sneaks a hand between your body and gently feels along your thighs to confirm his suspicion.

You gasp when he grazes your core. You— you are dripping. Cold, too. It must be uncomfortable. Dan Heng frowns.

“Don’t worry about that.” You assure him, voice shaking. “We can clean up in a little bit.”

“Isn’t it uncomfortable?”

“Maybe,” you hum, unsure. “I don’t mind it, regardless.”

Dan Heng raises himself up off of you, and braces his hands on your inner thighs. He’s warmed with the combined heat of the Archives, his nest, and you. You’re chilled under him and— Dan Heng. Can’t have that. He can’t totally trace why, he pulls a blanket up and over your bodies. 

You let him arrange you as he sees fit. He brings you to his chest, and fits your head under his chin. He tangles your legs, indulges in the contact and tries to transfer some of his volcanic heat into you. You look content as he does, nuzzling into his throat. 

Your own eyelids droop.

“Are you going to sleep?” He asks. 

“... Probably not.” You say with a yawn.

“You look tired.”

“I am,” You nod and push closer. “But, I don’t need to, and it’s hard to get myself to sleep. It’s more trouble than it's worth, trying to sleep.”

Dan Heng doesn’t think before speaking. “Has it always been hard?” 

You pause, breathing even and slowly, “Not always.”

“Why did it get harder?”

You choose your words carefully then, despite your evident exhaustion. Your brow droops, and you rub at Dan Heng’s sides. Your thumbs skitter over his ribs.

“How much do you know about the Kin of Sacha, Dan Heng?” You ask. “It provides context. I’d hate to bore you.”

“... Very little. The databanks only has limited information.”

“Oh, you looked for me?” You nip at his jaw, playful, even as Dan Heng prepares a nervous rebuttal. You soothe his distress before it can get anywhere. “I’m kidding— and it makes sense there’s not much about us out there. There aren’t that many of us to begin with.”

“... How many?”

“I’m not sure, truthfully. Probably less than a thousand. Maybe half of that. Unless Sacha has... awoken to bless more. But I doubt that.”

You rarely mention the Aeon who provided you your sleeplessness and dream-seeing. You even more seldom mention anyone you knew prior to your time on the express.

You sign, “Typically, the Kin of Sacha work as mystics or laborers. Some societies we encountered saw the Aeon’s gifts as a psychic boon to be cultivated. Others, like the one I was raised in, saw the Kin as a well of infinite, tireless labor. You learn quickly under those expectations that even if you could sleep, it’s more ideal not to.”

Conditioning, then.

Dan Heng thinks back to when he first saw you at that rest stop. How you’d swayed on your two feet, eyes glassy and far away. How long they took to focus. How the embroidered logo on your breast must’ve belonged to whatever company you’d been under the employ of. Pieces fit together, and Dan Heng feels slightly sick.

“You don’t— need to be like that, now. You should sleep.”

With your hands braced on his chest, you lean back to look at him. Your gaze is soft, unguarded. You look almost plush with it. 

“... I guess I should.”

(I guess I could.)

That’s all it takes, really. You nearly collapse back into the nest, and Dan Heng settled himself to be curled around you. If— If he still deigned to manifest his Vidyadharan tail, perhaps it would be curled around you both. 

But, Dan Heng does not manifest any tail. You do not need to stay awake. You both rest under the filtered, soft light of the Archives, and that is all you must do. 

[lavandulawrites]

Futile

Yandere Kazuha x reader

To think I haven’t written a fic of Kazuha yet. He is my favourite character in genshin<3 Please come with asks/ requests regarding him:)

Synopsis: The white haired samurai’s idea of love was an idea of speckles of red and tight embraces. To hope to escape the clutches of the man you loved seemed futile.

Masterlist

Warnings: violence (not towards reader), murder, obsession, possessiveness, insane Kazuha, future forced marriage, manipulation

Word count: 689

The fire crackled in the little bonfire the silver haired samurai had lit. The fire illuminated his red eyes in a way that made them looked like pools of blood. Similar to the blood that had leaked out of the lifeless body of a man who had bothered you an hour ago. Kazuha had raised his blade without hesitation and pierced his heart. Blood had splattered on Kazuha’s face, a stark contrast with his pale skin.

You had fallen to your knees in shock. Kazuha had gently lifted you up in his strong arms and carried you back to your camp for the night. You had silently cried the whole walk back.

Now you had exited the tent and made your way over to the two wooden poles that were laid by the fire. You had taken a seat without saying anything.

After a while Kazuha broke the silence. “He had it coming you know. I could hear the commotion and smell his evil intent. I had to slay him. It was the only way. A beast like that cannot go around and taint the innocent. It would be an insult to the nature.”

His eyes met yours. “I cherish you more than anything and my love is deeper than what anyone could even hope to understand” his soft lips pulled up into a smile revealing the dimples that you loved so very much.

You cast your gaze down towards the ground. You could feel the samurai’s intense gaze. The wind rustled in the tree crowns, causing leafs to fall down. A half wilted leaf landed in your hair. Before you had the chance to remove it yourself, a carful hand removed it. When did he move to this side of the fire?

He lifted his hand closer to his face and studied the leaf. “So fragile…” his voice a soft whisper. You had a feeling he wasn’t talking about the leaf.

“It pains me to sense the smell of fear from you. It makes me want to store you away from all evil…” his eyes soft. He muttered to himself “Maybe I should do just that.”

You moved away when he twirled a strand of your hair around his fingers. “Stop. You are scaring me” your voice sounding less brave than what you intended.

His expression fell before he smiled. “My apologies my love. It is easy to forget how fragile you are” he tilted his head.

He studied your face in search of something. After awhile he brow the silence. “We need to get moving. The sooner the better. I would like to avoid traversing in the summer heat.”

“Where are we going?” your question stilled his movements. He looked at you with a blank face as thoughts raced his mind.

He swallowed, causing his Adam’s apple to bob up and down. “We are going to a village I am sure you would love. It’s rather different from the city you grew up in, but it’s charm is unique” his beautiful smile had returned.

You nodded slightly. “I see…” you looked away from the white haired swordsman and down into the grown.

“What are we going to do in the… village?” you asked with a meek voice.

The young man hummed. “We are going to get married” you didn’t need to look at him to know he was smiling.

Your fingers dug into you clothing as your mind raced. You knew there was no escaping him. You had tried. Many times, and it always ended the same. He killed everyone you had interacted with in your journey towards what you had hoped was freedom. Despite his gentle and seemingly kind nature, he had never felt any guilt for what he was doing.

In other words, escape was futile.

You turned your gaze up to met his awaiting crimson pools. You could see your reflection in them. Your eyes were wide with terror and your brows furrowed upwards in a frown.

“You’re going to love the ring I have picked out” his gentle voice as lulling as the sirens from the fairytales you heard when you were little.

[cottonlemonade]

A medium fruit punch with frozen berries for Sugawara please?

Midnight Teachings

word count: 1579 || avg. reading time: 7 mins.

pairing: post-time skip!Sugawara x chubby!Reader

genre: fluffy smut, established relationship

warnings: mdni, spoilers, smut

request: fluffy-spicy, midnight with boyfriend Sugawara

Koushi made it easy to fall in love with his warm smile, his genuine kindness and the mischievous side he only showed to you once he knew you were on the same wavelength. When you moved to Japan to start your new job, you were determined to focus. Focus on learning the language and culture and focus on the kids under your care. Since your Japanese was rudimentary at best the head of the kindergarten thought it wise to keep you in the administration part of the job to acclimate before letting you roam around the children. But Koushi made the effort to get to know you from day one. You couldn’t stop throwing glances at the handsome man leaning leisurely against the counter with the coffee maker, as he tried his best to make you feel welcome with slow and simple Japanese sentences as well as surprisingly good English. His strong accent was immediately endearing and you found your eyes following him when he left the room to get back to his class.

He had caught up to you on that Friday of your first work week, brushed a few of spring’s cherry blossom petals out of his hair like some dreamy anime character and asked if he could maybe offer his help with improving your Japanese. The best method, he concluded, would be by going out after school for a coffee. The relaxed atmosphere of a coffee shop always helped him think, he added with a grin.

“That sounds a lot like a date.”, you had joked and felt your cheeks growing hot at the brazen statement. Of course, you knew better than to think that a Japanese man would be that forward.

“Then you would be right.”, he had said and given you one of his smiles that already had you weak in the knees.

The dates quickly became more frequent. He would walk you home afterwards and you’d text until late in the night - all in the name of teaching, of course. But after a month of having him as your private tutor he finally worked up the courage to confess and you were finally his.

__________________

“Koushi? You know what I just realized?“, you asked one night. Your head was in his lap as you watched TV at his place. The midsummer heat was too relentless, even this late, to allow any outside activities so you two had decided to stay in for the day and enjoy the fickle luxury of his temperamental air conditioning. He continued to comb his fingers through your hair.

“Hm? What‘s that, darling?“

“How does one learn dirty talk in a different language?“

He choked on his glass of water.

“Where did that come from?“, he coughed.

You sat up and looked at him.

“I was just thinking about the other night. I‘m guessing you didn‘t learn those things in English class.“, you grinned, “So where did you pick it up?“

“Uhm…“ He avoided your eyes and chuckled nervously.

“An old girlfriend?“, you asked, trying not to sound too jealous.

He quickly shook his head.

“Hmm, porn?“

When he didn‘t say anything you figured you hit the nail on the head.

“Baby, you don‘t have to be embarrassed for watching porn. But I‘m wondering, would you like it if I learned some in Japanese?“

You saw his Adam's apple bob up and down in his throat as he swallowed.

“I mean… I would definitely not say No to that.“, he said slowly, his usual grin returning.

Excited that your idea was a good one you got off the couch and went over to your bag to retrieve your tablet.

“Alright. I‘ll go study then!“, and you made to head towards his bedroom.

“Honey!“, he laughed and jumped off the couch, “You don‘t have to watch that.“

“But I want to.“, you pouted, then added, “Learn, I mean.“

He thought for a moment, then a rather familiar glint shone in his eyes and he took your hand.

“I have a better idea.“

You drew the thin bedsheet closer to you to hide your naked figure as you watched him shed his shirt and sweats, leaving him only in his boxers - the cute ones with the fish-print.

He joined you on the bed, laying next to you propped up on his elbow. You could see he was already half hard and you bit your lips at the thought of - “Hey, sweetheart, my eyes are up here.“, he chuckled.

“Yes, sensei.“, you said automatically.

“Now, let‘s start with an easy one. Repeat after me.“

“Oh, I know this one!“, you called with a beam.

“Yeah?“, he nuzzled against your arm, “And what did it mean?“

You readily turned your head to one side to give him free access to your neck.

“Very good.“, he said and leaned in to brush his lips against the sensitive skin. The kisses quickly became hot and opened mouthed and you squeezed your plush thighs together under the blanket, feeling like you would drip on his bed at any moment.

“Then, let‘s try something a bit more advanced.“, he said after feeling like he had kissed your neck enough for the lesson. The next phrase was a lot more difficult.

“No idea.“, you admitted.

“Then just repeat it and see what happens.“, he grinned, raising his brow.

You squinted playfully. “What if you‘re teaching me unspeakable things?“

“Don‘t worry, sweetheart. I‘ll only teach you things I already know you love.“

So you repeated the phrase. He made you say it twice.

With gentle but deliberate movements he brushed the blanket out of your hands and guided you onto your back. He hovered for a moment above you, asking you to repeat the words one more time, then dipped his head lower to run his tongue over your breasts. With his tip he circled your pert nipples before taking them into his mouth, humming quietly. He loved this just as much as you. His hand reached up to cup your other breast, bringing the second nipple closer to him so it wouldn‘t feel left out and he spent the next few minutes driving you insane between soft squeezes and hard sucks, nibbling on your soft flesh every now and then. You felt his hard cock rub against your thigh through his boxers.

When you were close to your first orgasm he stopped and laughed at your indignant whine.

You were hesitant to repeat the next phrase. What if it was more edging? You weren‘t sure you could take any tonight, the sheets beneath you already felt soaked.

“Well?“, he asked, waiting for you to say the new words.

“I understood “please“ but the rest, no idea. So…“

Once the phrase left your lips, your boyfriend scooted lower on the bed, pushing the rest of the pesky blanket out of the way. He groaned when he grabbed at your pudgy tummy. You were nothing short of a goddess to him and he had spent many nights before happily worshiping every inch of your ravishingly plump body.

He trailed kisses along your stomach and thighs before settling between them. You were so very wet for him he could barely control himself. The sight and smell alone had him almost cum untouched.

“One more time, darling. Repetition is the best way to learn.“, he said softly, running his tongue over your inner thighs.

Once you finished the phrase he grinned. “So polite…“ And he dove between your legs.

“Ah, Koushi… don‘t stop… nngh… more…“, you panted, reaching down to grab his hair. He moaned into your pussy and wrapped his arms around your thighs to pull you against him, to taste more of you. You were so close from his earlier teasing that it only took a few slurps and flicks of his tongue until you unraveled. Looking up at you he licked his lips, “Thank you for the meal, sweetheart. - Have some water before we continue.“, he straightened and sat back on his heels, the large imprint in his boxers was completely undeniable now. You rolled over to grab a bottle from the nightstand and stayed laying on your tummy as you took small sips, your head still spinning.

“You ready for more?“, he asked. His voice sounded shallow like he was trying to catch his breath. You nodded, then squeaked when his hands grabbed at your waist and pulled you backwards towards him so that you were on your hands and knees, grinding against him.

You were strongly hoping that the next sentence was supposed to be mean something along the lines of “Please dear god, just fuck me. I can‘t take it anymore, I need you inside me. Please just fuck me, please.“, but it was too short.

Instead you felt his hand come down on the right cheek of your ass.

“Ah, Koushi…“, you whined, then repeated the sentence. He landed another soft spank on your flesh, making sure to massage it immediately after impact.

Sweat trickled down your back and Koushi himself brushed wet strands of hair out of his face that clung to his forehead.

“Harder…“, you mumbled into his pillow.

He smirked and leaned forward, pressing his chest and stomach flush against your back. He reached around to grab at your breasts and gave your ass another quick hit, rubbing the palm of his hand greedily against your sinnfully soft flesh.

You turned your head to meet his lips. “You‘re such a fast learner, darling.“

a/n: this particular Suga story plot has been simmering and lurking in my brain for so long. Thank you for giving me a request I could use this for! I hope you liked it! 🌟

[theoldkyokodied]

Hello! I really love your art! I was wondering if you have any tips on how to capture the person the facial features of the person you are drawing so well?(!) Your Billy and Stu are is amazing! Although it is in your style (which I absolutely adore) you still keep their likeness/resemblance which is very hard for me to do when trying to draw them in my style! (Sorry if the wording is confusing, any tips?) Thanks!

Ah thank you so much and sorry for taking so long to reply, but I needed to figure out how to answer this.

I have put some general tips together, but I need to point out that none of these replace the time investment of learning art. It is merely a suggestion of direction for practice, and I don’t want anyone to feel discouraged if any of these tips don’t immediately make them into a master of arts. Art practice is not easy and it can be frustrating to not be up to your own standards yet, but you will get there! :) In the meantime: be kind to yourself!

That said, let’s get to the tips I can share:

1) Use references!

I usually create a reference sheet for any character I want to draw more often, with their face in lots of different angles. Being able to know how, for example, someone’s nose looks like from the side and from the front can be essential when it comes to recognition. You basically want to be able to create a 3 dimensional object with these references. I tend to need the references less the more I draw the character, after a while i just memorise their key aspects for drawing them from most angles :)

2) Figure out key-features of a person

Try to figure out how to simplify someone in a drawing. What are their most striking features that NEED to be included? Sometimes it helps when you try to think of what features a caricaturist would accentuate in a caricature of them. Here you have some features that I personally try to focus on when I draw billy:

As mentioned in the bottom right corner, the placement of these key-features is also important. Try to figure out where things are placed in relation to other facial features and mind their size as well. this becomes easier the more you do it!

If you struggle to find out what features are important you can also look up other fan-artists stylised work you like and try to see what they chose to highlight :)

3) Do studies!

4) focus on values and contrast before considering color

doing a study without a sketch by blocking in shapes can help you figure out the planes of a characters face

as you can see here, stu’s eyebrows kind of blend in with the shadows of his brow bone, which is why I usually draw his eyebrows pretty light/in a color that doesn’t have high contrast with the skin tone, it makes him instantly more recognisable in my opinion

5) Draw (a lot)

I have been drawing basically every day since I was a child, but my ability to actually draw someone recognisable has only developed in the recent years. And I don’t think I’m done with learning. In the undying words of Bob Ross: “Talent is a pursued interest. In other words, anything that you’re willing to practice, you can do”.

I hope my tips can help a bit and and perhaps lend you some motivation for the never ending practice that every artist has to face :’) <3

[blorger]

I have a confession to make: I love Pansy Parkinson.

I love her little snub nose, I love her big DH moment (even though as readers we're supposed to hate it) but, most of all, I love her because jkr hates her.

I'm not being hyperbolic when I say this either, we have it straight from the horse's mouth:

I loathe Pansy Parkinson. I don't love Draco but I really dislike her. She's every girl who ever teased me at school. She's the Anti-Hermione. I loathe her. Yeah, sorry! Sidetracked there by my latent bitterness.

("PotterCast Interviews J.K. Rowling, part two." PotterCast #131, 24 December 2007)

I recently found myself wondering how, for a self-professed Pansy stan, I sure know very little about her as a character. If we take aside the fact that I derive psychic joy from being a contrarian (especially when it comes to jkr and her garbage views), is book Pansy actually an interesting character or do I just like the Pansy that the fandom's collective unconscious created? Who even is Pansy, really?

Because I'm me and there's no problem that can't be answered by amassing huge amounts of informations, I went ahead and prepared

a Persuasive Primer to Pansy Parkinson

PART 1: PANSY'S PERSONAGE

The character of Pansy Parkinson has been present in the Harry Potter series since book 1. Her name shows up briefly during Harry's sorting since she's close to him in the class list but her first real appearance occurs during the Remembrall Incident, where jkr sets up two of her character's mainstays: her looks and her meanness.

This very first description of Pansy's face as severe and pitiless-looking is perhaps the kindest one we get in the books, since the only other times Harry, our narrator, bothers to describe her appearance he calls her pug-faced, which incidentally is where we as a fandom (and, clearly, the HP movies casting directors) got the idea that she has a snub nose.

Other than these vague and unkind descriptors, Pansy's looks are left to our imagination; the brunette bob she is well known for is a movie creation and the only other description relating to her appearance is that of the robes she wears for the Yule Ball in book 4, which are very frilly and pale pink.

As any scholar of JKR Studies worth their salt can tell you, jkr is a consummate misogynist who loathes pink and only uses it in order to give a negative connotation to something/someone; pink=girly, which is bad, and frilly=superfluously, ostentatiously girly, which is the worst possible thing a female character in the jkr extended universe can be. jkr has a lot of opinions on what constitutes an acceptable performance of femininity and the character of Pansy Parkinson exists to exemplify the complete opposite of that.

PART 2: A PERNICIOUS PERSONALITY

What can we learn from Pansy's tone? Firstly that she is shrill and annoying, as she shrieks and screeches; in her role as part of Draco's entourage she's both a mindless follower who simpers and an active participant who spreads gossip and maligns by whispering and giggling mean-spiritedly.

jkr created Pansy in the image of the girls who bullied her in her youth so Pansy has an entourage all of her own, an unnamed gang of Slytherin girls (they're always referred to as such, no further description provided) who appear in a greek chorus-like fashion to herald the bullying of Hermione (Ideal Woman and self-insert supreme).

So, what can we learn from Pansy's insults? well, for one that she doesn't like "fat little crybabies", as shown in the excerpt above. Furthermore, when she's not parroting Draco's insults, Pansy shows a single minded preoccupation with the life and looks of one Hermione Jean Granger

(from GoF, Pansy has Opinions of Rita's Skeeter's aricle)

(from GoF, Pansy is there to show us that Hermione was Beautiful All Along)

(from GoF, Pansy helps Rita Skeeter with her character piece)

(from GoF, Hermione suffers the fallout from Rita's article, Pansy is vigilant to any and all Hermione news)

We'll look more closely at Pansy and Hermione's relationship in a short while but for now let us focus on more of Pansy's barbs; I would like to take to this moment to highlight the following:

(from OoTP, Draco's gang shows up to the Gryffindor quidditch practice to do some heckling)

I find it notable that the only time Pansy insults the looks of someone who isn't Hermione it's when she makes a racist microaggression towards Angelina Johnson, one of the very few black characters in the books. While this is unquestionably vile behaviour, I struggle with interpreting jkr's intentions: does jkr even know and/or understand microaggressions? Is Pansy's insult even meant to be interpreted as racist? Does racism as we know it even exist in the hp universe?

Personally, I've always gotten the impression that the wizarding world was meant to represent a post-racial society in a very United Colors of Benetton, "I don't see race" kind of way that is very typical of nineties pseudo-liberalism, no doubt to give more space to her blood purity system (and because someone like jkr has no interest in even mentioning the pervasive effects of racism in society). Still, let's not discount what is no doubt one of Pansy's lowest moments in the books, regardless of the reading we choose vis à vis jkr's intent.

To cleanse our palates, here's a more benign insult:

(from OoTP, Harry and Cho's date is but a collection of unfortunate moments)

While I'd put the Cedric reference pretty high on the Insensitivity Scale, I find myself reluctantly entertained by Pansy's drive-by read, especially because Harry IS a garbage boyfriend to Cho.

What else do we know about Pansy's personality from the books? For one, that she likes unicorns but considers showing it outright to be undignified:

(from PoA)

We know that Pansy is made a Prefect in OotP and, while the books never specify the parameters used to choose Prefects and Hermione implies Pansy wasn't chosen for her smarts ("she's thicker than a concussed troll" is the actual quote, though Hermione's objectivity is questionable), we can assume that, at the very least, she is somewhat of a leader among the Slytherin girls (on account of the aforementioned gang).

Finally, we never hear Pansy's opinion on blood purity although it's safe to assume that it's not terribly progressive on account of the company she keeps.

PART 3: PASSIONATE PARAMOUR

While the books never state conclusively wether Pansy and Draco are ever a couple (in fact, neither of them says a word about the other in the books), we know both from statements jkr has made irl and from the in-universe characters' opinions that we are supposed to treat them as a couple of sorts. The evidence for that is as follows:

Draco is implied to exagerate the extent of his Buckbeak injury in order to garner sympathy from Pansy in PoA:

Pansy is Draco's date to GoF's Yule Ball

the infamous carriage scene in HBP:

and

and

Ron assumes that the boasting witnessed by Harry on the train was done in order to impress Pansy.

and

Regardless of wether you want to read their relationship as romantic or not, Draco and Pansy clearly hang out together a lot from the ages of 13 onwards; Pansy is often mentioned as part of Draco's posse together with Crabbe and Goyle and she's further shown as an active participant in his various schemes, most notably in the popularisation of Weasley is Our King:

(from OotP)

Pansy appears to have a genuine interest in Draco's wellbeing as shown by her concern when Draco is injured by Buckbeak in PoA:

and

Pansy if further shown to be understandably upset when Harry guts Draco like a fish in HBP:

So we can conclude that, although we have no idea of Draco's feelings, Pansy feels authentic affection for Draco.

PART 4: HERMIONE HATER?

Pansy is positioned as sort of the Female Draco: while Draco's job is to antagonize Harry and Ron, Pansy is there to deliver the Girl insults to Hermione, the Girl One of the trio. While jkr's intention was no doubt to paint Pansy as a straightforward bully, her singleminded interest in Hermione displays the same pigtail-pulling connotations as Draco's behaviour throughout the books.

Their first exchange comes by courtesy of Hermione, who hits her with her trademark condescension, which seems to specifically drive Slytherins mad like nothing else (the first "mudblood of the books comes as a direct response to one such occasion):

(from GoF, Pansy enjoys the potter stinks badges, hermione begs to disagree)

Following this exchange, we start to see Pansy engage in your typical Mean Girl behavior, which, apart from the preoccupation with her looks shown above, also includes laughing at Hermione's expense:

(from GoF, Hermione was hit by a stray curse and her teeth grew to a comical size)

and

(from GoF, Pansy shows hermione the infamous "harry is in love with Hermione" article by Rita Skeeter, which features a quote from her)

While we never see Hermione respond in kind (since her preferred method of dealing with bullies is the could shoulder), we know that this behavior definitely colors her opinion of Pansy

(from OotP, Hermione is displeased when Pansy is made Prefect)

and

(from OotP, Fred and George's departure from school left a vacuum in the prankster hierarchy and all manners of students jumped up to fill the spot)

All in all, we don't have a very precise read on the relationship between the two: do Pansy and Hermione exchange barbs whenever they meet? are they enemies or is Hermione a sainted martyr suffering in silence (on account of her moral superiority)? Just how closely do they parallel Harry and Draco's rivalry? You decide.

PART 5: PANSY'S POLEMICAL POSITION

Finally, we come to Pansy's Big Moment

(from DH, Pansy says the quiet part out loud and is banished for it)

During the Battle of Hogwarts, Pansy displays the ultimate act of Evil (in jkr's eyes) by not behaving Bravely when faced with an impossible decision. To give context, Voldemort has just given the students of Hogwarts a way out of the whole mess:

Personally, I hate this scene. Pansy doesn't know shit about just how essential Harry is to ending the whole shebang; furthermore, she's just a scared student living out her own version of the trolley problem and yet the narrative frames her (imho) understandable reaction not only as unforgivable cowardice on her part but has a condemnation of Slytherin house as a whole.

I hate how the Hogwarts student body is alternatively portrayed as a mindless horde whose opinion can be swayed by the faintest of rumors (as seen by public opinion turning on Harry in CoS, GoF and OotP) and as a prop to show the Right Way. The Hogwarts student body is essentially pulling a Spartacus moment except their reactions are somehow neatly divided into Houses: it's not some individuals who choose to react bravely and motivate the rest, its the Gryffindors as a whole, moving like a single-minded hive, who influence the other single-minded hives of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaw. The individuality of all of these people is ignored in service of an impactful scene and the one person who shows a dissenting thought is summarily removed (together with the Evil Slytherin hive, which did not express any opinions but is nonetheless blackened by association).

jkr's bullshit black-and-white worldview rears its ugly head here and what could have been a genuinely moving moment of student solidarity - showing people from different backgrounds coming to the defense of Hogwarts together - becomes a condemnation of those who dare oppose the righteous horde instead.

In a moment in the books that feels very biblical, the non-believer who dares doubt the Savior is shunned and summarily dealt with (which opens up a whole can of worms about the Jesus-ification of Harry that I'm not prepared to go into). Pansy is merely a prop in this scene, a stand-in for the whole of her house, yet I appreciate her very human reaction: she's the only person in that room to show individuality, expressing the fear and doubt that most people would feel when placed in a similar situation.

I appreciate how Pansy goes against the grain in one of my least favorite scenes in the whole books but I acknowledge that her big moment is not really about her, nor does it tell us anything about her character that we didn't already know: All Slytherins Are Evil and the best they can hope for is to just be slimy and opportunistic (à la Slughorn) instead of straight up villains.

PART 6: PERSONAL PERORATION (or: I really shot myself in the leg with the whole alliteration thing)

So, what did we learn kids? First of all that the Pansy in the books, as intend by jkr, is an irredeemable, uninteresting shitstain, less of a fully-formed character and more like a vaguely defined caricature of a Mean Girl.

While my instinct is to go against this cartoonish portrayal and attempt to read some complexity in her thoughts and motivations, I acknowledge that, to some, Pansy is forever tainted by the harsh way in which she's depicted and therefore will forever remain unlikeable. Personally, I find myself drawn by characters with seemingly nebulous motivations and, since I don't share jkr's shitty deterministic worldview, I can see scenarios where she grows as a person; I enjoy seeing different explorations of her characters in fics just like I enjoy reading about her fellow b-team villains in general.

Choose the path that sparks the most joy for you and live your truths my friends, ignore this primer completely or allow it to change (or reinforce) your opinion of Pansy, your feelings are valid regardless.

xoxo

[aromanticannibal]

mha characters that are aro for CANON reasons (read: in which I reach increasingly further for canon evidence):

(Disclaimer: some of these can be evidence of characters being something else than aro (or ace) but this is my post and I can do whatever I want + /hj to /j to everything on there, when I say I start reaching I start REACHING. These are headcanons!)

Aizawa Shouta doesn't ever show romantic (or sexual) interest in anyone and is actively put off by Ms Joke hitting on him and the idea of getting married to her

All Might has NO experience with women according to Horikoshi (could also mean he has experience with men but y'know)

Ashido Mina really wants to be in a relationship but never fell in love (cupioromantic moment)

Both Bakugou Katsuki and Todoroki Shouto hide from girls crushing on them near the end, don't ever show romantic interest in anyone or get anxious or flustered near girls, Katsuki especially apparently never cared about girls (and vice versa) before and and Shouto specifically doesn't notice when he's hit on.

Iida Tenya is never interested in girls or men and is significantly more focused on both his studies and his friendships

My favorite headcanon: Uraraka Ochako's love for Izuku seems founded more on her admiration and people telling her she must like him (because boy and girl etc) than in actual romantic love, and she connects a lot with Toga (who also loves people in a non-conventional way)

Midnight doesn't have a romantic partner or anyone she regularly flirts with despite being a very beautiful and desired woman, and doesn't seem to have had any kind of romantic relationship with the three boys more or less her age she hung out with a lot (the rooftop trio) (she can also be seen as a cliché of aroallo person who only cares about sex so I'm claiming her).

Pixie Bob's obsession with finding a partner is giving "I've been told all my life that I HAVE to get married and I don't want to so I keep looking for the perfect match and not finding it because the man I'm looking for doesn't exist because I won't ever fall in love". Because by god you can't tell me the cute blonde catgirl isn't finding a boyfriend.

All For One only cares about his brother, I'd even argue he's aromantic asexual aplatonic etc. a-everything except familial and idk. quirkic. attracted to quirks.

Mount Lady is aro for the same reason as Midnight but because I think it's implied or canon that she's dating Kamui Woods, she's lower.

Midoriya Izuku is green so he's obviously aromantic and most of his flustered reactions to girls seem based more on shyness (and an obvious reaction to getting boobs shoved in his face) and sexual or aesthetic attraction than romantic attraction (he also has a very romcom view of what being boyfriend girlfriend is, ie. his reaction to Toga's confession)

Aoyama Yuuga's definition of love (according to his comment on Ochako being in love with Izuku because she was thinking "what would Deku-kun do?") is very weird and seems based more in things he was told or saw in fiction than feelings he would have felt himself.

Yoarashi Inasa is just so fucking weird with friendships and social cues he looks like he's trying to navigate the world while making absolutely sure NO ONE misinterprets him, which makes him both very aro and very autistic in my book

Kurogiri is literally a bunch of mist with little free will whose purpose in life is protecting this one boy, he's all the As.

Endeavor married for insane reasons and never even cheated on Rei after he sent her to the hospital (which a lot of men his caliber would do)

Ms Joke makes the idea of dating Shouta a joke and I think that's great. She's also green.

Miruko's chill and doesn't give a fuck, she's a fighting person, very Katsuki-coded in that regard I fear. She also works alone without an agency, which is giving aromantic for no reason other than I Said So.

Toga Himiko is a queer allegory that is generally interpreted as bisexual and biromantic but I think she can be interpreted as aroallo as well (way to love that’s seen as impure and unholy etc etc, notions of consent – taking people’s blood and hurting them without their consent which is for her a way to show her love, most of her attraction seeming physical or aesthetic rather than romantic, her parents telling her to repress repress repress instead of satisfying her desires in a safe way, the scene where she’s biting her wrist in her sleep???? etc etc) 

Twice never had a lot of friends and never had a lot of female friends and when he feels gratefulness and care for Toga it outwardly seems romantic because he doesn’t know what’s romantic and what’s not and hasn’t had a lot of female friends 

Dabi is giving aromantic aplatonic who only really loves his family but due to circumstances can’t love them healthily and ends up just hating them (the most intense feelings of love he shows are always towards Enji or Natsuo, and his apology to Shouto makes me think Shouto is also included in this – no evidence for Fuyumi and Rei but I can do what I want. He clearly cares for Twice and Toga too but it presents very differently, even after he’s revealed himself and doesn’t need to be as secretive). 

Shigaraki Tomura probably just doesn’t give a shit I’d say. He’s pretty apathetic when he isn’t fighting or angry or like doing his hatred thing, but he clearly cares about his teammates. 

Fatgum is foodpilled and studentpilled. He really loves food and he really loves his students he doesn't need no romantic relationship.

Jirou Kyoka takes a bit to warm up to Denki so I think she's demiromantic actually

Bruce (the third user of One For All). He just has such third wheel vibes.

Intelli Saiko because why would she bother with romance, it's so unpractical and illogical

Despite asking for boys' numbers all the time and being very aware of romance, Utsushimi Camie looks like she could NOT CARE LESS. aro

The fact that Hawks plays up the flirting with his fans is giving aromantic to me – obviously heartbreaker aroallo stereotype but I think he could also be ace, the aroallo part isn’t that important, it’s just that he’s always pretending. It’s giving still in the closet. Also I know he’s young and busy and Horikoshi doesn’t really put that much casual romance in MHA but it’s so funny that there isn’t even a sliver of a girlfriend implied in his timeskip. Hawks is Married To His Job. 

Star and Stripe is also absolutely married to her job. Also, lots of guys around her, lots of important and admired male figures in her life, and yet not a single crush from her. Points. Aromantic lesbian 

Nezu is a fuckass mouse I highly doubt he's attracted to humans in any way

Gran Torino is a single old man which is enough for me (though because I hate that fucker I think it'd be funny if women just hated him)

Where Is Shimura Nana’s Husband. 

Muscular only likes to kill, he doesn’t need romance nor sex, his only desire is Killing People and fighting. Same thing for Moonfish, he only wants to eat people (mood my guy) 

Geten is very hyper focused on making his quirk stronger, he doesn’t seem to really have any relationships.

Overhaul just fucking hates people

Again, Kendo Rappa only cares about fighting.

So so sad because I like his girlfriend but Natsuo is giving marrying to get away from his father

Koda Koji just had the vibes. He's so aroace to me. (aro Koda brain vs kodajirou brain fight)

Monoma Neito is such a fucking hater he just has to be aromantic

Wash is a washing machine

Honorable mentions:

List of characters whose only argument is they never show romantic attraction and don't talk much about romance or get flustered: Shouji Mezo, Sato Rikido, Tokoyami Fumikage, Shinsou Hitoshi, Yaoyorozu Momo, Sero Hanta, Hado Nejire, Togata Mirio, Shirakumo Oboro, Present Mic, Seiji Shishikura, Ryukyu, Gang Orca, Shishido, Centipeder, Ectoplasm, Hound Dog, Thirteen, Vlad King, Mandalay, Tiger, Lady Nagant, Mr. Compress, Tsukauchi Naomasa, Todoroki Rei and Fuyumi, Melissa Shield.

List of characters whose only argument is "they're green so they're obviously aromantic": Asui Tsuyu, Ibara Shiozaki, Tokage Setsuna, Kamakiri Togaru, Midoriya Inko, Ragdoll, Burnin, the Sludge Villain (I’m taking all I can get), Mustard, Ordinary Woman.

Bonus: characters that I can't make aromantic no matter how hard I try under the cut:

Gentle and La Brava, for obvious reasons. I feel like making them not love each other is like illegal.

Kudo and Yoichi. By god my brain will not accept it they're in love.

Amajiki Tamaki. I'm sure he could be aromantic but I can't let go of the Mirio and Nejire crushes (which are so real and true to me)

Yuyu (Nejire's friend), she also looks way too much like she has a giant crush on Nejire. Lesbian moment.

Best Jeanist and Edgeshot, they're giving high school sweethearts.

I put them in honorable mentions but I just have to mention Gang Orca and Shishido somewhere because the one baseball OVA made me think they're like the pseudo-enemies/rivals who argue all the time but somehow fight extremely synchronized when needed and ONLY fight each other because they're the only ones Worth It etc which is. Y'know. eye emoji etc etc

Sir Nighteye is literally in love with All Might

David Shield is literally in love with All Might

No really did you see David's wife? This man went and found a blonde blue eyed wife when he couldn't marry his blonde blue eyed best friend. His daughter looks like an All Might secret love child. I know whenever Dave hears Melissa call All Might uncle he dies a little inside because he wishes she could call him Dad too and he could call Toshinori his darling husband and

Rock Lock is happily married and I could never take that away from him

Spinner is green so I can kind of see him as aro but he’s giving madly in love with Shigaraki so much

Magne has a crush on Dabi in one of the Smash strips which is too funny to ignore I think she’s madly in love with him. And she’s right

I like kirimina so fucking much I genuinely struggle to come up with aro Kirishima headcanons. I think he could be quoiromantic but I also think he’s madly in love with Mina so I don’t know. 

Stain is literally in love with All Might

Ending (guy who attacked Natsuo) is literally in love with Endeavor

Garaki Kyudai is literally in love with All For One (“I miss your eyes” guy is so fucking devoted. The true doomed yaoi of MHA)

I know Rody is in love with Izuku he just has to be. 

To me Shindo Yo also has a crush on Izuku but also he's canonically dating Nakagame Tatami which is also cute.

[positivexcellence]

Is there garlic on this pizza? An oral history of Supernatural's 'Monster Movie' episode

THE BEGINNING

What started as a simple enough idea — a black-and-white episode — was then put into the hands of writer Ben Edlund, who’d already crafted some of the show’s more creative hours, including “Hollywood Babylon,” which marked one of the series’ first meta episodes, and “Ghostfacers,” which was shot like a cheesy ghost-hunting reality show using handheld cameras. Alongside Edlund was director Robert Singer, an executive producer on the series and a massive movie fan himself.

ERIC KRIPKE (Creator): I was an obsessive fan of The X-Files and in their prime, they got really bold and adventurous with their format, and they had a black-and-white episode. I was always hoping that we could start taking those same kinds of swings. I remember saying, “I want to do a black-and-white episode where Sam and Dean are up against the classic movie monsters.” But I think Ben came up with the shapeshifter. We were trying to figure out: How do you get a mummy and a werewolf and a Frankenstein and a Dracula in the same episode? That makes no f---ing sense. So this idea of a shapeshifter who loved those movies and was ultimately just a fanboy was the secret to cracking that one open. 

ROBERT SINGER (Director): I think that script was Ben at his best. I was really happy that I was in line to direct because I really loved those old movies, so it was fortuitous that I got to do it. 

JENSEN ACKLES (Dean Winchester): It’s all just paying homage to the old-school ways of doing things, which having Bob at the helm, he’s seen all those movies time and time again, so he was the perfect guy to direct this episode. 

KRIPKE: Bob has an encyclopedic knowledge of movies, especially older films. He’s a classicist and his directing style is a lot of that kind of beautiful, elegant Hollywood style, and I think he just really relished it.

SINGER: I shot generally with wider lenses than I would normally do with Supernatural to try to give it some of that old-time feel. I really took pains to make it look as old fashioned as I possibly could. I’m a big fan of James Whale, who had done Frankenstein, and there are a lot of great crane shots in those movies, so I did a lot of crane work in this. We did a lot of shadow play. 

JARED PADALECKI (Sam Winchester): You put Ben Edlund on writing and Bob Singer on directing and magic is bound to happen.

But there was another piece of the puzzle that needed to come together for the magic to truly work: Who would play the shapeshifter (and therefore spend the episode doing their best Dracula)? The answer was Todd Stashwick.

TODD STASHWICK (Dracula): They wanted a full-on replication of Bela Lugosi’s performance. I had the DVD of the 1930’s Dracula, so I was watching that just to get the mannerisms and vocal intonation down so that I wasn’t doing a Xerox carbon copy but rather actually trying to get that Hungarian dialect that he has. I went in [to the audition] and just swung for the rafters.

SINGER: We had him do one of the Dracula scenes and then do the speech where he’s telling her how he became the way he became and Todd just killed it. That was an easy call to cast him.

STASHWICK: They wanted to know that you were going to be able to bring both sides to it, the full-on studied Dracula performance and then to let that mask drop and see the wounded man that is the monster. 

KRIPKE: We needed someone who could stick the landing on the Dracula part and that’s really hard. It’s hard to do it and have it not come off like a bit. Todd is a remarkable mimic of Bela Lugosi and brings humanity and soulfulness and depth to it. There’s something in his eyes that made it deeper and sadder than had you cast someone who was just going for an impersonation.

PADALECKI: That episode belongs to Todd Stashwick. He’s so damn good. 

Alongside Stashwick was Melinda Sward, whose character Jamie, a local waitress, caught Dean's eye and marked a first for the show. 

KRIPKE: At the time, there was a young female fan named Jamie. She and her mother would write us letters and they were super fans, and we were still early enough that we’re like, “I can’t believe there’s fans.” Jamie had medical issues, so when the season was coming up, I wrote her a response and said, “If you concentrate on getting better, we’ll name a character after you.” And she responded and said, “That’s amazing, but can you just do me a favor? Can you make sure it’s a character that doesn’t die?” So the female lead in this one we named Jamie. That was one of the only times we ever named a character after a real person and a fan. The happy ending is she was thrilled and she grew up healthy and now tours around with a replica of the Impala. 

ACKLES: Jamie was one of my favorite Dean Girls. Melinda was so good and so fun.

From the instant the episode began, fans knew they were in for something special as the old black-and-white WB logo kicked off a very old-school credits sequence.

SINGER: Right from the opening of the Warner Brothers shield, you know where you’re going. It set the tone perfectly.

KRIPKE: That and “Changing Channels” are the only two episodes where I’ll sit down and just watch the credit sequence. The font, the way you list every crew member, and it just goes on forever. And [composer Christopher] Lennertz wrote real orchestral music for it. I just love the opening of that episode and the way we did that title sequence. But changing subjects, what that reminds me of is the singular genius of Ben Edlund to set this episode during Oktoberfest. Suddenly everyone looks like European villagers and everything becomes a real monster movie.

SINGER: And that location was a party site, but it worked perfect for us. 

PADALECKI: It was like an amusement park in the outskirts of Vancouver that we rented out. It ended up unfortunately getting torn down and turned into condos or something.

THE MIDDLE

With the setting and the cast locked, the brothers set out on their hunt, arriving at Oktoberfest to help solve a murder. And when the investigation made Dean late to his first date with Jamie, he found himself face-to-face with Dracula. So naturally, Dean punched the shapeshifter in the face. A fight ensued, one that ended with Dean holding an ear and Dracula ... riding a vespa?

ACKLES: I believe one of the many reasons this show lasted as long as it did is because it can be scary but then at the same time, you throw something like the scooter in and it layers in comedy with horror, with drama, with romance. It touches it all. Bob said it early on and it became a mantra of ours: “No joke is too cheap.” 

STASHWICK: That’s the infamous assault scene. I’m in full crazy mode and I’m supposed to clock Jensen in his beautiful face with my elbow, and for whatever reason in that moment — I perhaps leaned in, he perhaps leaned in — we closed that gap and I clocked him. So what you see on the DVD extras is me being all Dracula and then me being mortified that I just hit their billion dollar baby in the face.

ACKLES: He caught me with an elbow but he probably thought he hit me harder than he did. It was a mix between a good shot and a graze, but he immediately broke character. He was like, “Are you good?” And I was like, “Yeah, that one woke me up.” [Laughs]

Dean made it through that fight, but the shapeshifter had already planned its next move: While Sam checked out an eccentric local that they thought was the killer, Dean and Jamie shared a drink back at the bar where she worked. Her friend Lucy (Holly Elissa) then showed up just in time to spike their drinks. By the time Dean woke up, he was wearing Lederhosen while strapped to a table in a dungeon.

SINGER: Jensen was like, “Oh god do I have to wear this?” So to make him feel better, I put on the Lederhosen top. I didn’t go with the full shorts but I did direct that day in the Lederhosen top to take the edge off it a little bit for him.

ACKLES: I remember that! He directed in that shirt. [Laughs] Those were authentic leather Lederhosen from Bavaria. Only the best for Dean.

PADALECKI: When Jensen’s first getting strapped to the table, cause he’s a big guy, I remember them talking about how for the visual's sake, they wanted it to be like he’s a quote-unquote damsel in distress, so if they used a normal-sized platform, it would’ve looked comical, but not in a good way. So they had to make it a little bigger cause he’s kind of big.

Dean wasn’t in the dungeon long before Dracula left him to go answer the doorbell. It seemed the shapeshifter ordered a pizza … and he had a coupon.

KRIPKE: I just love how there’s the monster lab in the basement but then you go upstairs and it’s this mid-century ranch house. That’s almost a direct ripoff of the Steve Martin movie The Man with Two Brains.

SINGER: [Set designer] Jerry [Wanek] did a great job in building the dungeon set, and then when the doorbell rings, you realize it’s in the bottom of a suburban house with a pizza guy showing up at the door. 

KRIPKE: When Ben wrote the script, we talked about that scene more than any other scene in the episode. We were so specific about how we wanted the Dracula shapeshifter to react to the pizza guy and the way he’s scared when he says, “Is there garlic on the pizza?” And then the way the pizza guy’s so bored and over it: “Did you order garlic?” And then he says, “No!” It’s the way that he’s so bored of this Dracula at the door.

PADALECKI: I think Jensen and I must’ve watched this episode together in 2008 because I remember us looking at each other and going like, ”Oh my god, [the pizza guy] is way better than he needs to be!”

ACKLES: That line, because of the way that Todd delivered it, we used that line on set many, many times. Whenever somebody asked a question that had an obvious “no” to it, it’d be like, “Hey, did you want the big light on in the distance?” And Bob would be like, “Is there garlic on it?” So that became a little ism on set.

STASHWICK: I’m a Second City guy, so “yes, and” is drilled into my head and yet the two memes I’m most known for, I’m saying the word “no,” and that is Supernatural and Star Trek. I have the no's that are heard around the world. 

In the end, the brothers came out victorious and another monster was dead, but not before this one made you feel a little something (and gave one heck of a final monologue quoting King Kong). 

KRIPKE: Ben gets all the credit, and rightfully so, for writing the crazy episodes, but where I don’t think he gets enough credit is what a disciplined screenwriter he is in terms of character consistency and rule consistency and just the emotion and pathos he brings to every single story he does. No matter how crazy, he always has such a talent for capturing humanity. I wasn’t counting on the shapeshifter to have pathos but when he gives that speech at the end, it’s so sad. I give him all the credit in the world for that.

SINGER: Eric used to say, “Every villain is a hero of his own story,” so we always tried, as best we could, to give the villains something to do and learn more about them and give them full characters. So even with all this fun, we managed to give him something a little more to do. 

PADALECKI: He becomes an almost sympathetic character — I stress almost because he did kill a couple people — but what a great character arc all inside of one episode.

STASHWICK: Because this character wasn’t just a cartoon Dracula and he had that human moment, I think it made him stick in people’s minds more. This monster just really loved the movies. He was the ultimate cosplayer. It might be the thing I’m most known for outside of Star Trek, that one episode of TV.

THE END...?

Although Dracula didn’t make it out alive, the episode seemed to breathe new life into the series, marking perhaps its biggest risk yet, though not the biggest risk the show would ever take. 

SINGER: It kind of laid a template for other big swings that we took that were out of the ordinary, whether it was “Changing Channels” or “The French Mistake.” This was the first of our big swings of being totally different than what the show was generally week to week.

KRIPKE: I remember it getting a positive reception. I think people appreciated the swings we were starting to take. I just love that this small little supernatural show that’s arguably a Buffy ripoff on The CW got so experimental. I am really proud that we were doing legit avant-garde stuff, really experimental filmmaking, of which this was one, and then we just kept pushing it. 

PADALECKI: It’s such a great episode of television and I think we have a few in our 15 years that could stand alone as something fun to watch and out of the box, and it's certainly easy to argue "Monster Movie" is at the top.

ACKLES: This was really when we were hitting our stride. We were in the pocket with these characters, with the storytelling, with the writing. The first year was really finding our feet, the second was like, "Okay we somehow survived a network merge, let’s not mess this up." And then third season we started playing a little bit. So by the fourth season, we’re like, "Now we know where we need to be." This was the perfect time to do one of these outside-the-box episodes. This is definitely one of my top 10.

SINGER: I directed 48 episodes and if somebody asked me which is my favorite, I would probably say this one. I just had the best time doing it. 

Entertainment Weekly

[lewmagoo]

do u have any rhett or bobby fics/writers you recommend? love your writing! I'm deep in the lew brain rot rn 😵‍💫

sure do!

check out @delopsia for all your rhett and bobby needs! no one does it like del, i'm telling you. their writing satisfies this craving i have deep within my soul. you can find their masterlists here

and while you're at it, hit up @peachystenbrough too. i love her interpretation of the sad cowboy. she also has some really great bob x rhett x reader fics if you're into that. masterlist

then there's my sweet @sebsxphia who is soooo good at tapping into the more rough and gritty side of rhett, but also giving him soft humanity. and they nail the portrayal of bobby boy as well! masterlist

honorable mentions:

want the best of both worlds? read do you wanna make somethin' of it by @theharddeck

want a poetic and emotionally fulfilling character study of rhett? read horsemanship by @bradshawsbitch

there are many more i could list, but i'll just keep it short <3

[strxytwig]

Gojo Got Drunk

Gojo Satoru x gn!reader

Summary: You went out for your annual holiday drinks with some coworkers. This year, Gojo drank something other than soda. You weren't ready for the antics.

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: Gojo being drunk, slight angst

A/N: Doing a small character study with this blue eyed princess. I also haven't written in months and I'm extremely rusty af

+

You found Gojo’s bobbing figure amusing, like watching one of those bendy inflatables. He sluggishly clung to whoever was nearest, face colored red from drinking and his head lolled side to side between conversation. The first victim of the night, Nanami, could only handle his drunk antics for so long before he slid out of the booth and left the white-haired sorcerer moping and making grabby hands to anyone whose name he could drunkenly sound out.

Normally, Gojo composed himself when out for drinks. He stuck to soda or a mocktail while acting the biggest fool among other drunks. How he let himself go tonight made no sense to the rest of you, nor were you that concerned. He acted no different to any other day, albeit a little clingier. Gojo was always loud.

"He's an idiot," Shoko said when you stared too long at his bobbing head. You turned your attention to her as she filled your glasses for the third round. "I doubt he even had two drinks."

"Yeah." You laughed to yourself, shifting in your booth seat. "It's kind of funny." You looked back at him when he toyed with the tiny umbrella in his drink. His mouth dropped in a pout with the overhead light reflecting off of his shades. "I don't think I've ever seen him drunk."

"Enjoy it while it lasts. He's not going to drink again after this."

You hummed. "Guess he really is a lightweight."

"Nice bracelet," Shoko said. You looked down to where she pointed at the shiny bangle on your wrist. "Where'd you get it?"

"I got it as a present from my mom." You twisted your wrist a little to show it off. "Between this or the fuzzy socks I got from her and the fountain pen from my dad, this one seemed appropriate for tonight."

"Would have loved to see you in your fuzzy socks." Shoko rested her chin in her hand.

"Yeah, I guess." You set your wrist down and shrugged. "I don't know. It feels like we're not close anymore."

"Are you going home for New Year's?"

You shook your head. "No point in trying."

She narrowed her eyes. "I get it." She sighed and took a drink from her glass. "It's a tough job with tough hours."

"Sometimes, I wonder if I should have taken my cousin's advice and worked an office job." You pouted. "Then again, that's a whole different hell."

"No rest for the wicked."

"No." You sighed and sank deeper into your chair.

An arm quickly slung around your shoulder. At the same moment, they tugged, dragging you down into someone's chest. You floundered and stabilized yourself before you could fall out of the booth. Your hands gripped the table for purchase. Your heart raced from the jolt

"Why the long face?" Gojo chastised you,bending his knees. "It's Christmas Eve. You should be happy!"

You frowned at him. "Gojo!"

"Satoru!" He cheered with a big grin.

"Why aren't you at your booth?" You attempted to look over his shoulder at the long-abandoned booth, but Gojo pulled you closer.

"I got lonely. Nobody would sit with me." He leaned closer to look at both you and Shoko. "But that's fine because I got you two lovelies."

"Count me out." Shoko slipped out of her side of the boot and grabbed her drink. "I don't need a headache this early in the night."

You watched her helplessly. "Shoko."

"Take care." She half-heartedly waved before weaving around the bar to a different group.

You tried to follow her with your eyes, hoping she'd feel the heat of your stare, but Gojo wedged himself into the seat beside you clumsily with his arm still around your shoulders. He laughed boisterously and set his drink with the tiny umbrella on the table beside yours. Every move he made only jostled you.

"What's up!"

You frowned and tried to pull away from him, but he wouldn't let you. "Gojo..."

"Have I ever told you how pretty your eyes are?" He tilted his head down, correcting it when it started to roll.

"Yes." You looked away flustered. "Many times."

"It's cute when you play hard-to-get."

The alcohol burned your cheeks. "We're dating."

"You don't act like it." He absentmindedly blew air into your face.

"That's-" You were at a loss.

He wasn't wrong. The two of you started dating four months prior, after his constant and incessant flirting. Contrary to popular belief, you were the one to ask him out. It took small deliberation on his part before he agreed to be your boyfriend, only after you swore it didn't have to be serious. He didn't like serious. You accepted that.

So, the sudden personality flip this past month embarrassed you to no end. He was touchy and affectionate like no tomorrow. You struggled to keep up with this change. It happened out of nowhere. From casual dates and hookups to him being everything he agreed not to be. You worried you'd find a heart box of chocolates on your counter tomorrow morning for Christmas.

"What, you don't like me?" He pouted and leaned closer.

"I like you," you assured, placing your hand on his chest to keep him from falling onto you. "I'm just- you're drunk and you won't remember this tomorrow. So, I don't see why we should discuss it now."

"I'll remember." He pulled away to pout more. "I'm not going to forget what you said."

"Gojo." You sighed and started over. "Satoru-"

He hummed in content and fell into you, burying his face in your neck. "Yeah?"

"Why are you so...different?"

He slumped against your shoulder. "What do you mean?"

"You weren't like this a month ago." You tried to pull away to look at him, but he wrapped his arm around your side, keeping you locked in place. "You're really touchy."

"I'm your boyfriend," he answered breezily, if a little slurred. "I want to be a good boyfriend."

Your stomach twisted into a knot. "Satoru-"

"I love you," he muttered. He buried himself into your neck more. "Is that what you want to hear?"

Your heart dropped into your stomach. You lost your breath, trying to decide if what you heard was real. It was a mistake. He mumbled and you misheard.

"What?"

He nuzzled your neck. "I love you," he said with more clarity.

"Satoru." You managed to nudge him away so you could look at him properly. You pushed his shades up to his hairline and saw his eyes for the first time that night. Red-rimmed and shiny with unshed tears. You inhaled softly. "Satoru, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. I love you." He turned you to him and held you by the shoulders. "That's enough, right?"

The look in his eyes told you he wasn't all there. As if he was looking right through you. You ignored the rest of the noise from the bar and focused on Satoru. Even if he weren't drunk, you would be worried. 

"Yes. Of course, that's enough." You nodded your head.

"You don't have to love me back," he said, pulling you into a hug as he buried his head in your shoulder. "It's okay. Don't leave."

"I won't." You returned the hug. Was this moving too fast? Were you ready for the next step in your relationship? Would he feel the same way in the morning? Would you? It didn’t matter."And I love you too."

He laughed breathlessly into your shirt. "Can I kiss you?"

"You don't have to ask."

He pulled away slightly to bring his mouth to yours. It was slow and hesitant, the way he hovered. In the long second he hesitated, you wondered what would come of this. He stared into your eyes for a long moment before he closed his eyes and relinquished himself to the kiss. You reciprocated with ease, relaxing your body and melting into him.

When he broke the kiss, he buried his face in your shoulder again. "I love you, Suguru."

Your heart stopped beating.

Satoru nuzzled you closer. "Don't leave this time."

You swallowed dryly.

He slumped against you. "I love you."

+

[murpyperpy]

🩸Yandere Vampire x Reader 🩸

During your trip to the library you meet the only other person in your small town who seems to be interested in more than petty drama. The library hold extensive knowledge in its old other worldly books but you struggle to find a relevant story to capture your attention. That is why when you see the man across the room with him slender pale hands wrapped around a Jane Austen delicate nails taping against the spine, you rush over.

“How do you do Sir.” You sing excitedly starring up at him fully of glee at expectancy. You bob down with a short bow.

He brings his hand to his hat and gives it a slight lift. It falls on his dark wavy hair ( which you shamelessly find yourself staring at)

“Hello madam” He’s says politely, annunciating every syllable. He follows your eyes to the novel. You have captured his attention fully as he takes in your appearance rosy cheeks, long lashes, the white lace at the hem of you skirt. Most importantly to him some semblance of a character someone to converse with in this dreary town.

“How did you manage to get your hands on a book made in the last hundred years!” You exclaim only half joking.

Immediately he started thinking of ways to get you to stay with him. His mind rushes through this times customs. Dinner. He plans to invite you to dinner.

“From my personal collection naturally,” he jokes “I’m Amias, who may you be lovely?” He listens and you introduce yourself studying the amusement in your eyes. You have been so clearly starved of attention of civil conversation he promises himself he will assist you if not for him self but for your own good.

“You could always come see my private collection. All of the latest releases. And, at this late hour I could provided you with sustenance .” He offers nervously. He loosely defines sustenance as some kind of edible thing available at his manor.

Now those of you brave enough to comment must pick the choice of this adventure!!

A) Indulge his request and walk through the woods into his manor. (OoooOoOoO spooky~ 🫣)

B) Decline despite his possibly negative reaction (you just meet this guy! Do you even trust him??)

C) Creative wizz kid leaves a prompt! (YAYAY)

[tsurumiau]

GOLDEN KAMUY x MARIO KART 8 DELUXE

a silly little post about what racer they'd choose if they played mario kart 8 deluxe (+ some headcanons)

SUGIMOTO

he'd 100% choose baby luigi . he thinks luigi is MUCH cooler than mario and he chose him as a baby because he thinks he'll go faster if tiny. he also always chooses the jet bike as the vehicle (what can i say it just looks like it goes very fast)

SHIRAISHI

HE WOULD ABSOLUTELY CHOOSE ROY . i mean look at his sunglasses he's clearly the coolest. shiraishi always gets the WORST items and when he finally gets a mushroom he ends up crashing against a wall or falling off the map

ASIRPA

king boo . she LOVES choosing king boo and screaming BOOOOOO SUGIMOTO IM GONNA EAT YOU when she's behind him (she really does it with everyone but sugimoto is the one who gets scared the most because he genuinely thinks king boo can eat other racers). she just loves feeling like a menace and hitting other racers all the time

OGATA

WHAT CAN I SAY they have the same black void eyes and i think ogata relates to him in a very deep way. ogata SUCKS at drifting but he throws bananas, bombs and green shells like a pro (doesn't matter if the other racer is behind or ahead of him)

TANIGAKI

tanooki mario because inkarmat told him tanooki mario reminds her of him. he always ends up being the last one because he absolutely SUCKS at mario kart

INKARMAT

100000% CAT PEACH . she's matching with tanigaki. she always drives extremely well and therefore ends up being one of the last ones with tanigaki (but theyre in the bottom 3 together)

KOITO

BABY PEACH . he thinks peach is an absolute GIRLBOSS and like sugimoto he thinks she'll go faster as a baby. he can NEVER win against ogata because ogata somehow always has shells or bananas or bombs and throws most of them at koito no matter if he's behind or ahead of ogata

TSUKISHIMA

toad . he didn't really know who to choose but koito INSISTED toad reminded him of toad and he thought choosing toad would be better than choosing the random option. he does NOT know what he's doing and tries to avoid the item boxes because he thinks they're obstacles for some reason. he sometimes ends up going THE OPPOSITE way but still manages to be in 11th place (just because tanigaki is worse)

TSURUMI

this man has his own mii (i made a mii just for him btw) . hes the kinda guy that has studied every object in the game and know how they all work and how to use them to win ... not a menace because hes a violent racer but because he just knows how to play

USHIYAMA

HE'S DEFINITELY DAISY . my man ushiyama chooses the prettiest girl and THAT'S DAISY !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i think he's a pretty average mario kart player but sometimes he stops the vehicle because he accidentally pushes the backwards button (his fingers are too big, he thinks someone threw him a mysterious item that somehow stops the vehicle and he doesn't even notice he's the one doing it)

HIJIKATA

he thinks THE GAME gave him the character and he can't change it (he seriously believes he's stuck with mario but no one tells him because they all think he chose mario himself). despite that he's surprisingly good, not because he's a good racer but because he always gets triple red shells and annoys everyone with them

NIKAIDOU

his brother played wario (he will bite ANYONE who tries to pick wario) . he screams WAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH in every jump or gliding part. he goes feral when he gets a superstar and starts hitting all the people he can

KIRORANKE

YOSHI !!!!!!!!!!! ironically he SUCKS at throwing bombs and ends up hitting himself with them (he HATES when they're playing battle mode and it's Bob-omb Blast time). he's VERY bad at first but gets better after playing a few times if you ignore him hitting himself with his own items

WILK

DRY BONES . hes a silly guy and picks the silliest guy !!!! a pretty average player methinks ... definitely laughs at every single person that gets hit with a shell but gets mad when hes the one that gets hit

[hypodermicfroggy]

I really like Psychonauts and its writing, don't get me wrong, though after having read the very ancient Li-Po Backstory Document I do wish we could have gotten more from some of the concepts that had been in there.

Like the fact that Sasha's real struggle with his father wasn't just "lol he accidentally caught his father thinking about sex with his dead mom" (though don't get me wrong I love a good Freud joke and overcoming your traumatic intimacy issues for the one you love as much as the next person), but was in fact due to him having an existential crisis over the nature of the human mind and concept of a soul and that's also why he so doggedly went into scientific experimentation. Could also tie into his fascination with extraterrestrial life and wondering if they, too, qualify for his existential studies, or even given us interesting interactions with Camper Phoebe.

(Also, stopping a terrorist/bomber with the help of his father was a cool as fuck detail.)

Or the fact that Milla actually ended up moved from mental facility to mental facility before she was finally able to be helped with quieting down the nightmares and voices of the orphanage children (among others she was able to hear) through psychoisolation. Could have more insights on her extreme pyrophobia and how she manages to come to grips with the fact that Whispering Rock *does* in fact encourage pyrokinesis.

We could have had a chance to expand on Oleander's animal telepathy/empathy powers (post Psy1, it could have been some improved character development/showing he's at least trying to not be so warhawkish), especially since we know that's also a very strong power in the Booles and Sam Boole was assigned to him as an intern.

Or how about Truman being a distinctly "conservative" and extremely politically-motivated figure with regards to how he apparently rose to power as the Head of the Psychonauts? Sure, we see parts of the fatherly side with Lili, but we don't see the politics of the Psychonauts apart from glimpses through Hollis, and maybe a tiny bit with regards to poor Bob. Hell, that political-mindedness could have even contributed to the estrangement between Truman and Bob over Bob's addiction issues, and Lili's personal apathy as well since she's basically a 'prodigy' who has never been properly challenged *since* she's a Zanotto. It could even be part of why Oleander was even recruited in the first place. Animal empath or not, he's the militaristic type that a more openly political and conservative Truman would potentially want in the organization.

And of course I know the big one was how they changed the Aquato lore and backstory from the document, and again, I LOVE what they did with that writing in Psychonauts 2 with regards to Maligula and Ford. But at the same time the Galochio family rivalry would have been so FASCINATING. Zalto could even become a future villain to deal with, possibly tied to a Grulovian mission or arc since it was hinted at the end of Psy2 they'd have to go there anyway to recover Helmut's body. Raz back in his family's homeland! The Galochios reigniting the family feud! FINALLY GETTING PROPER WATER LEVELS! Insert a joke about "why is it always you?" with Raz's Protagonist Syndrome!

I also want literally ANYTHING else with regards to the camp and interns, too. Elka has an entire backstory that is not once remotely implied in the first game that her entire family has extreme powers of clairvoyance to the point an ancestor was basically a Norwegian prophet/soothsayer. Are you kidding me? That is cool as shit. And besides horrific traumatic events, how do you even figure out your kids are psychic? Like some families clearly show an aptitude for it (the Aquatos, the Booles, the Zanottos), but is it just a genetic quirk, is it through direct Psitanium exposure causing mutation, or is it just random chance? How do you qualify to be part of Psychonauts programs? Also does Loboto actually have a kid or was he just talking insane nonsense?

Maybe if we ever get a Psychonauts cartoon like I'm coping for we could get some of these ideas returned to and elaborated on.

[raes-writing-space]

TWST Relationship Headcanons (Floyd, Ruggie, Kalim)

A/N: Suggestive Content Tread Lightly, not explicit, like it’s not full on smut, but it does have sexual themes. Reader isn’t said to be “Yuu” however, it may mention events in the story. Some of these are kind of written as a “funny haha” but it does have some seriousness behind it.

All characters are aged up to consenting age, or as the reader, imagine you are the same age as them (still of consenting age.)

Warnings: Cursing, Mentions of being touch-starved, violence, sexual themes, mentions of yandere vibes in Floyd’s. Possible spelling errors, tumblr won't save my changes no matter how many times I fix them.

Floyd:

I hope you didn’t want personal space. It’s the equivalent to that tiktok sound, “This is Bob, Bob loves his personal space. This is Larry, Larry also love’s Bob’s personal space.”

But honestly a lot of it is because he’s touch starved, and the physical contact he DOES usually have isn’t positive in any way, it’s violent, always fights.

The first time you give him a regular hug for the first time, doesn’t even have to be a full hug, it could be a side hug, he’s like “Wtf was that??? Wait, hold on, I want more of that.”

He always has to be touching you in some way, arm over the shoulder or around the waist, draping his whole body on you, holding hands, intertwining pinkies, hands in your pockets, SOMETHING.

While he does have mood swings, hardly ever do you really have to deal with it, because you always make his days better. Unless you did something to really set him off, he’s always in a good mood with you.

However, it can’t be said towards other people. So, while he might make YOU food that’s really good, he will make everyone else basically eat garbage. And while he might not snap at YOU, he might snap at someone else.

He finds you really interesting, even if you feel like your life is boring, he does not find it boring at all. He wants to figure you out, even if it’s doing “nothing” he still wants to understand why you choose to do said “nothing”, even if it’s something that would typically bore him.

He is BLUNT AF and LOUD AF, so if you good luck trying to keep him from spilling all your relationship info, he is so loud in his love for you, and he does not care if it makes other people uncomfortable to hear about how much he loves your body, mind, personality, etc. If you’re wearing his favorite pair of jeans he’s going to tell you how much he likes your ass in those jeans, and again, he does not care where he’s at or who’s around him.

Even if you’re the more modest or shy type, and try and tell him to “keep it down” he might, MIGHT, respect your wishes, however, don’t be surprised if he just suddenly grabs you and starts whispering in your ear all the shit he wants to say out loud. At least only you can hear it...

Floyd will use his strength and height to his advantage, even if you’re the same height as him or taller, he is really strong, doesn’t matter your weight baby, he will have no issues picking you up like a damn rag doll and throwing you over his shoulder.

He especially does this if he feels as if you’re not spending enough time with him. Floyd is a very needy eel, and he doesn’t like how much time you’re spending studying or hanging with friends, or a hobby, or ANYTHING, and not spending time with him :(( No, he does not care that you have a test coming up!! (Again with point one)

Floyd can get violent if it means protecting you in some way. if you get even so much as a dirty look from someone, he’s already giving the worst “warning sign” look to them EVER. Sevens forbid someone actually makes a threat towards you, because Floyd will make sure that they never so much as look at you, or in worst cases, make sure they never breathe the same air as you ever again.

Things might become sexual with him a bit fast, mostly because he’s touch starved and he’s just kind of overwhelmed with how much he feels for you, that he just sorta... needs to let it out in some way. And there’s nothing better than giving you all the pleasure you could ever want, and then some, be prepared to get overstimulated, it’s not even intentional sometimes, he just... won’t stop...

Floyd CAN make love to you, but even him making love to you can come off as a little rougher some times, he doesn’t mean too, he makes up for it in a lot of kisses, sweet touches, trying to make you laugh, and praise. He can also fuck the shit outta you though if that’s what you want.

On a more intimate note, if you kiss his scars, he’s not going to fully understand what it is you’re exactly doing at first, but once it does finally click that “Oh.” moment he might get overwhelmed and tear up a bit. He doesn’t understand why he’s tearing up, it shouldn’t matter to him that much, and yet, something within him is telling him that it does. Because despite his nature you treat him as if he’s gentle, and soft, and should be cared for and deserves to be cared for in a soft and gentle way.

Don’t take it the wrong way if he needs a minute to recover after that, because being vulnerable was never a thing he was taught to do, and it’s new to him... But he wants to be vulnerable with you, he really does, he just doesn’t know how to show it properly.

While he is a little unhinged, he is loyal, fiercely so, (almost borderline yandere, but it’s not intentional... it’s just how he is.) he has a lot of emotions, most that he can’t always control, but he does support you with everything, and loves you more than he can ever actually say it.

Ruggie:

Ruggie is the definition of “You fell first, he fell harder”, he’s got a charismatic charm to him that everyone to some extent falls for, however, he himself is rather guarded and doesn’t trust easily.

So with you? The fact that he allowed himself to feel comfortable around you and let his guard down? And trust you wholeheartedly? It took him a little while to figure out his feelings and again, allow himself to fall for you, that it was going to be okay, and once he did fall for you, he fell hard.

Of course, he’s still a mischievous little shithead, stealing shit from your pockets just to give it back to you in order to grab your attention and talk to him, or teases you relentlessly for anything you do, it’s just a love language of his. Take it in stride, he just wants to see you smile in some way, even if it’s a sarcastic one.

His biggest love languages are quality time and acts of service, he has a harder time finding the words to comfort or reassure you in the way that you need, he doesn’t have the money to give you gifts all the time (he does try though), and yes, while he does love physical affection too, it’s in the small things he does for you every day that shows his love for you.

Your laundry would be folded even if you didn’t ask, he’d have breakfast ready for you when you wake up, he’ll have a tissue at the ready when you sneeze, he’ll sit with you in complete silence doing different things in the same room, help you study, or distract you from studying, and be the perfect body double when you’re having a hard time doing tasks alone. He himself even understands and appreciates the times you do the same for him.

However, the saying “the way to his heart is through his stomach” runs true for him. Even if you don’t know how to cook, or aren’t very good at it, just the thought of putting in the effort of cooking something for him means more than you know. He’ll teach you along the way, if you’re willing to learn. Even if it’s just you finding a recipe you think he’ll like and would want to learn with him, he’ll appreciate.

There’s some things he will do that you might only understand if you also came from a low-income household. If he makes a pallet on the ground next to your bed for the first time he stays over, it’s out of instinct. Or some of the late night “ingredient dinners” he grabs for himself, it makes sense to him. A spoon full of peanut butter, or a bowl of canned corn and some cheese are typical things that are quick, cheap, and easy to obtain.

He might never get out of that mindset, even after you’ve given him some more security in his life, but don’t hold that against him, that’s just how he learned how to survive in his childhood, he got what he could, even if it meant stealing it, and he tries his best to hold out until whenever his next full meal was, whether that’s in an hour or two days from now.

Ruggie is incredibly hard working, he works various part time jobs, and he’s picked up a plethora of skills, he’s a little good at everything, if you need your makeup done, he’s your guy. Ripped shirt? He can sew it for you. You took up a niche hobby but you aren’t sure where to get started? Ruggie’s got you.

However, he can run himself completely ragged if you don’t tell him to take a break and just take care of him. Do some of his chores, cuddle him, let him take a nap with you, feed him, let him vent to you, anything. He’ll appreciate it all the same, and he’ll always make sure that you never want for anything in return.

Being in a relationship with Ruggie means being in a partnership, he’s devoted, and will put in 100% into the relationship, but you need to put in 100% on your end too, whatever that means to you. He’s in it for the long haul, but he needs to know that you’re going to be there for him when he has nothing, or when he has everything, and he needs to know that you’ll support him regardless, because he’ll support you in the same way.

Sex with Ruggie is always a mixed bag based on the mood, and what both of you need or want out of it. I believe he’s a switch, entirely, and if you want him to take initiative he will, and if you want to take initiative, he’ll follow. He can be serious, he can be goofy, he can make love to you and be incredibly intimate, or he can fuck you and treat you like a slut if that’s what you want.

You can make him beg even, just don’t forget to praise him. He lives for your praise regardless if he’s a sub or a dom, he just wants to make sure he’s doing enough for you, and if you need to switch things up again, tell him. He’s very understanding and adaptable.

Sudden leg cramp? Massages it out, gets you some water, and asks if you want to continue. You’re not quite close to orgasm because of XYZ? He’ll change it up for you so you can get there. You suddenly just want to stop? He would never make you feel guilty for it, if you want to stop, then you two will stop, that’s it.

He’s all for non-sexual acts of intimacy though, bathing is especially his favorite. He loves taking baths or showers with you, and after awhile he almost gets weird taking showers or baths without you, because it just doesn’t feel the same. He feels like he’s somehow also wasting precious water that could be easily saved if you just there with him.

His community means a lot to him, if he brings you back to his hometown, he doesn’t expect everyone to like you, but if you at least put in the effort to get to know them, learn, help, whatever it is that you need to do, he’ll love you even more for it. He’s seen as a big brother to a lot of the younger kids, and if they love you, then he knows he’s found the right person to settle down with.

While there are some people who are definitely your significant other but not exactly your best friend, Ruggie is 100% your best friend and your significant other. He see’s you in the same way. You should be able to laugh and feel comfortable with him, as much as he’ll laugh and feel comfortable with you.

Kalim:

Right off the bat I want to say that Kalim is not as naive as many people perceive him as. He’s emotionally intelligent, but he struggles with seeing the bad in people because that means that the world really is as scary, and awful as people say it is, and that’s not what he wants to see it as..!! He chooses to be naive as both a mix of him being actually a little naive, and as a coping and survival mechanism to some of the traumas in his life.

With that being said, while he is emotionally intelligent, it takes him a minute to differentiate his feelings for you, he wants to be sure that he legitimately is in love with you, and not just infatuated with the idea of you. Kalim romanticizes a lot of scenarios, so for him, of course it’s easy to fall in love with the idea of you, so he takes more time with you, gets to know you better, lets himself feel every emotion with you, and when he finally confesses his feelings for you, know that they’re genuine.

It’s very easy for Kalim to just want to spoil you rotten, if you’re not into it, you gotta tell him that. All he wants in the end is to make you happy, however he makes you happy isn’t really the necessary part to him as long as you’re happy. So, if you like being spoiled, as long as you’re happy, he’ll spoil you. If you feel weird taking his gifts, which are quite expensive, and you get awkward when he sings your praises and wants to throw a parade in your honor? Tell him, and he’ll better suit your needs.

He won’t stop gift giving if you aren’t the type that likes getting gifts, but if he sees a flower while walking, he’ll give it to you, and if you need a sweater because you’re cold, you can take his. If you don’t like crowds he’ll plan something that’s just the two of you.

Jamil will thank you if you end up being the guiding voice for him, in my opinion he reeks of ADHD, just like Floyd, but while Floyd grew to learn different life skills (due to his background), Kalim grew up in privilege and never needed to learn those skills, and was also encouraged not to learn, which didn’t do him any favors. However, Kalim can and does want to learn, if you’re wiling to teach him and be patient with him, he can be clumsy, he’ll have a deep respect for you.

Kalim is used to being coddled by his family, so if he slowly but surely start to make him see reality for what it is, a mix of good and bad, beautiful and ugly, he’ll start to open up himself in different ways even he didn’t realize he knew he had. Make sure to support him through it all, he might need to do some healing he didn’t realize he needed to do... (C’mon, poor boy really had to live with the fact that he can be casually poisoned at any moment, that kind of lifelong paranoia can’t be good for even the best optimist...)

He’s can learn to master any love language if he wanted to, even if he might need a little bit of guidance, he will always be first and foremost, a dedicated partner. Communicate with him, that’s the most important part, he won’t know unless you tell him, even if it you end up having to be a bit blunt, still tell him.

He didn’t realize how touch starved he was until he started dating you, he’s always been a physically affectionate person, but a lot of people push him away or are just uncomfortable with how affectionate he’s being. So the fact that he can be physically affectionate with you? Oh man, he comes off as really needy, he kind of is, but it’s always got rose colored glasses on, so he’s just a sweetheart who just really wants to please you.

However, he’s still new to romance, he’s always wanted to be romantic with someone, so while he’s physically affectionate, he gets nervous when he wants to kiss you. He starts off with kissing your knuckles, then the inner part of your wrist, then your cheeks, but he always makes himself too flustered to fully kiss you on the lips, at least, for the first time.

Once you initiate the first kiss with him, then it’s over for, then he’ll openly kiss you all the time, never really making out, but a lot of “pecks” on the lips, and god forbid he has to go do something important without you, because one “goodbye kiss” turns easily into a dozen goodbye kisses if you don’t stop him and tell him you’ll see him later.

You’ll have to guide him through his first make out session, he’s got a lot of pent up energy that he doesn’t really know what to do with, he gets a bit overwhelmed, and while he’s into it, his hands shake when he pulls you closer, or he grips onto your clothes a little too tight...

But once again, once the first is over, you’ll find him quickly wanting more of you, and finding himself getting a little greedy with wanting your love, it’s as if he’s been running at 100% battery his entire life with no real good way to release even a little bit of that energy, so when you give him that outlet, he wants to just give all of his energy to you.

Speaking of, the first time you have sex with him, it’ll be a little clumsy, but again, once he learns, like I’ve mentioned a few times, he just wants to please you. So much so, he might not actually realize he’s overstimulating you, he’s just taking your moans and reactions as a positive thing, and is just going to keep going, because obviously he’s doing something right, and you’re pleased, but doesn’t realize there is such a thing as too much.

He’s definitely a switch, of course, if he is dominant, he’s a service dom maybe even bordering pleasure dom sometimes. Also, Kalim is very loud, he moans, whines, groans, anything and everything, always praising you for something, even if it isn’t even related to sex, he’s just saying the first thing that’s coming to his mind, which, really isn’t much considering his brain turns to absolute mush when he’s fucking you, but it’s something.

Kalim loves laying on your stomach and just... staring at you... He considers himself so lucky to have someone like you loving him, and he hopes you feel the same way, he wants you to feel the same way.

If you meet his family, good luck with his siblings, they’ll have a thousand questions and he will want to answer all of them, even when he really shouldn’t. And, he also has lost count of how many siblings he has, so... it’s very easy for him to just... sort of forget who you’ve met and who you haven’t.

If his parents somehow don’t approve of you for some reason, Kalim will defend you! He will struggle to find the words at first, more confused and hurt by his parents choice, but in the end he’ll choose his love for you over any riches he could ever hold or own. To him, you are his greatest treasure. The most valuable thing in his life.

He finally understands what it means when people say things are “priceless” not in the way in which he originally believed, thinking they were under-valuing something or that it was free, but that it meant that no money in the world could ever make them consider parting with whatever it was, and for him, that’s you.

Kalim is a sunshine child, but he’s not so naive, if you’re willing to be patient with him, guide him, love him with everything, he’ll do the same for you in return. He’ll always know when you’re upset, even if it hasn’t fully hit you yet that you were upset, he wants to help you with anything, and he wants to grow with you.