#SHOW ME WHAT HE DID TO DESERVE THAT FROM YOU

[prncssguya]

on hwang in-ho/front man, seong gi-hun and their dynamic.

first, idk why people are getting so upset at other people calling gi-hun dumb, we were told that in the first season. lol being bright is not his strongest trait but he has a good heart and we love that about him. however, he is still an idealistic gullible idiot with a gambling problem. except this time his gambling addiction is backed by a sense of justice and righteousness and he no longer gambles with money, he’s gambling with people’s lives. front man asked a good question at the end of the season, “did you have fun playing the hero?” can we even call gi-hun the hero of the story anymore? he gambled with people’s lives and front man showed him the consequences of his moral heroics.

front man only agreed to help gi-hun with his revolution when he mentioned about "small sacrifices for the greater good". i think he reveled in the fact that the “good guy” was willing to allow a few innocent people to die for the greater good to stop the games, which is exactly what the entire VIP theory is to rid the world of 'trash' to improve the world. notice how gi-hun's moral code and belief also changed, from being "nobody should die" into "yeah small sacrifice is okay as long it's for the greater good" at this point, he just proved that front man's belief is actually valid. AND he gets more of his own people killed in the pointless battle with the soldiers that they had no chance of winning. now he gets to feel responsible for all those deaths and the death of his friend and for whatever additional torture they cook up in the next games (as punishment for the escape attempt).

now on hwang in-ho, i believe he was once a good man and the story he told gi-hun was the truth. but in the end he lost a kidney, lost a wife, a baby, lost his money, got fucked over by the wrong people and got into serious debt and had to play this game to help his wife and probably it was too late to save her. he might have played the games like gi-hun but saw how ruthless and greedy people are and resolved that they don't deserve help

i don’t think in-ho wants/will kill gi-hun, but he wants him to understand things from his perspective and show him that his compassion for the people in the games is foolish. you can tell the frontmen (the old man and in-ho) are extremely fond of gi hun. not only did he protect their original front man when nobody else did, he then won the games and thus their respect as he is now as rich as them. he's no longer "trash", he’s an elite like them. i think they both actually kept tabs on him after he won (i wonder if they do that for all winners? inserting them with gps chips?) because they knew he had not used his reward money and in-ho wanted gi-hun to get on the plane and be happy with his daughter

there’s one interesting aspect of the games that makes front man such a complex character. the fact that they’re operating a organ transplant trafficking network. in a way, he’s creating some good to come from a really fucked up situation. but is it really for the good of others who desperately need it, people like his wife, like his brother? or is it just a money making scheme?

either way, i don’t think there is going to be a redemption arc for in-ho, he’s too far gone. we may get to see more of his human side if he manages to see jun-ho again. the only time we’ve seen genuine emotions from him was when he shot his brother like he seemed distraught

the real cliffhanger for me, is will gi-hun stay true to his belief that people can be good, or will he be forever changed into a villain and become the next front man…? after the events of this season i don’t see how his will doesn’t shatter. he’s witnessed how humanity consistently chose money over survival, he’s lost two close friends, his mother, abandoned his daughter. he has gained nothing from wanting to stop the games and this clearly feels like an origin story for the next front man. it’s clear the front man has won this round and i think squid game will either die with 001 or continue with gi-hun as game master

another thing i find funny that i don’t see many mention is how gi-hun is like the luckiest guy in the fucking world. but i don’t think him being alive this long is plot armor, it makes sense. the games exist for the entertainment of rich sadists who have so much money they don't know what to do with it (remember what old 001 said in s1 about life being no fun for both people with no money and people with too much money). and i’d imagine killing hundreds of poor debt-ridden fools year after year gets boring. especially when said fools are desperate enough to gamble with their lives because they think they can beat the system by playing better than everyone else and surviving and getting the money.

gihun is different because he got the money, got out, and still came back. not because he's unfeeling or because he wants more money, but because he's still convinced he can beat the system.

if you're a rich bored gazillionaire, would you rather watch some randos die or would you rather watch this exceptional idiot fail again and again until he learns that his ideals are meaningless and people are inherently greedy and equality is a myth and people at the bottom of the barrel don't get to question the system?

if you're an asshole gazillionaire, you don't want someone to challenge you and just get away with it. you want to hand them 45.6 billion won and make them go away quietly, traumatized, after breaking them psychologically by making them do horrible things until they understand they're just powerless "horses". if they insist on challenging you and your system and your beliefs (money = boundless power), you teach them a lesson and show them their place in the most manipulative and cruel way possible. if gihun dies right away, that's boring. so he can't die, he needs to suffer. he needs to concede defeat.

also, i find it funny how people are comparing hwang inho and gihun dynamic to hannibal and will graham. makes sense, their whole cat and mouse game, front man hiding his true nature from gi-hun the same way hannibal does, trying to corrupt the righteous protagonist, sowing chaos, testing him and observing his behavior like a lab rat, the crazy tension and staring contests, the gaslighting and manipulation. and with the fact that they think lee byung-hun looks like mads mikkelsen. i never put the two of them together but now i can’t unsee it lol

[describe-things]

[ID: A 18 panel comic of detailed digital painting, by Pet_foolery on instagram. Panel 1 shows a close up of the side of a wolf's face and shoulder, with all but one eye, ear, and its shoulder buried in snow. The eye is greyed and staright straight ahead. Panel 2 shows, from above, the rest of the wolf's body, almost entirely covered by the snow, with the head of a livestock guardian dog looking at it. The wolf is grey, with a tan lower body. The dog is cream colored, with dark ears and muzzle and a grey diamond on the forehead. Where the snow is, the image is pure, blank white. Panel 3 zooms out more, still showing us the scene from above, as the dog sits in front of the wolf's body, while behind it are a flock of sheep, indistinct from above, with grey marks for their footprints in the snow. One asks, "What if it's a trick?" another asks, "You sure it's dead?" The dog replies, "Yeah. He's dead.", with the words he's dead in bold for emphasis. Another sheep says, "It could be fakin'.". Panel 4 shows us the scene from in front of the dog, who looks down at the wolf's body as a sheep behind them asks, "You kill it?" the dog replies, with emphasis, "No. The cold got 'em. I think he was ill." The sheep says, "Well…good, either way." Panel 5 shows the dogs eyes lift, staright straight ahead now. They ask, "…Good?" the sheep replies, "Well, yeha. Whether you got 'em orr the cold did don't really matter none." Panel 6 zooms in on the sheep as they turn their head to look at the others behind them, continuing, "Either way, it's one less wolf we gotta worry about snapping us up in the night." One of the sheep behind them adds, "Vicious monster. I hope it suffered." another says, "Yep. That's just what it deserves." Panel 7 shows us the sheep's view of the back of the sitting dog, who says, "'Vicious monster', huh? For wantin' to live?" The sheep asks, hesitantly, "…What?" Panel 8 shows us the dog from the side as they stand, looking back out of the corner of their eye at the sheep. They say, "If they don't hunt, they don't eat. And if they don't eat, they die. So are they vicious for wanting to live?" The sheep replies, with a smile, "Well, I guess they can't help but be vicious. Cruelty is in their nature. So, it's only fitting they die a cruel death eh? Haha!" Panel 9 shows the dog turning back to the sheep with a glare, mouth turned down, and says, "Dogs are kin to wolves, you know. They ain't much different than me." The sheep replies, "Don't be ridiculous! You're nothing like them! Not at all!" Panel 10 shows a close up of the dog's upper face as they say, "No? Far as I can tell the only real difference between them and I is I don't gotta hunt for my food." Panel 11 shows us from behind the sheep's shoulder as the dog stands, seeming to loom as they say, "If my master didn't feed me, I'd have to kill to keep livin' too." Panel 12 shows the sheep's frightened face from below the dog's shoulder as they continue, "Then maybe I'd be the one snapping you up in the night." Panel 13 shows more of the sheep looking at the dog, who is sitting again. The closest one who spoke before is cringing. The dog says, "If seein' this poor fella lay dead in the snow gives any of you a sense of pleasure, do me a favor…" Panel 14 shows a close up of the dog's eyes and nose, wrinkled in a growl, as they turn away and say, "Keep it to yourself." Panel 15 shows the upset sheep watching as the dog moves away. Panel 16 shows the sheep turning away as the dog sits down next to the body of the wolf, their back to the sheep. Panel 17 shows the scene from above. The wolf's body, still mostly buried by snow. The livestock guardian dog sitting next to them. The grey mass of footprints from the sheep's approach and retreat, only one of them left visible. Panel 18 shows the dog sitting by the wolf's body from a distance, back to the camera, outlines fuzzy from the drifts of snow. End ID.]

Link to original.

Another comic with the same characters

© pet_foolery

[thecuriousbeauty]

during the early shows of the "live on tour" era, when him were still performing in theaters, harry couldn’t take his eyes off a fan while he was on stage. so he takes her to the backstage after the show (or to his hotel room).

That Special Girl- Harry Styles x reader (Fluff)

A/N:-Put a little spin to this, I hope you all like it! Thank you for the request anon, and for patiently waiting! Please like and reblog to support me, xx.

Word count: 1.7K

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You don’t usually take this route on your morning runs, but today, you were craving those soft, buttery, warm croissants from the bakery down the street for breakfast. You definitely deserved it after your run. And today was going to be a very special day in your life, you needed to start the day right. So you didn’t mind the mild crowd you had to run through to make it to the bakery.

All you could think about was going to your first Harry Styles’ concert that evening! He was finally coming to your city and you weren’t going to let go of the opportunity to see one of your favorite singers perform live. Sadly, your best friend couldn’t go with you, so you were going alone but you were sure you’d make friends once you got there. That was also something you were excited about. Being around so many people who share your same interests. 

Just as you were about to enter the bakery, you saw someone familiar on their morning run. Your eyes squinted to make sure what they were seeing was really true. 

Wow, even before you got to the concert.

It was Harry Styles!

He was wearing a grey sweatshirt and blue shorts, shades protecting his eyes. You had to try so hard not to freak out, because the last thing you wanted was to be like some of those crazy fans. You admired Harry, yes, but you believed everyone, celebrity or not, should have the privacy of at least not getting disturbed while on their morning run. 

He was running towards where you came from, where you knew there was a crowd, so even though you were nervous and not quite sure if the words would form proper sentences once you opened your mouth, you decided to warn him.

“U-Uh, Harry?”, you spoke as he was just about to whizz past you, and he stopped. You couldn’t read his expression very well, but you continued. “You don’t wanna run that way, it’s pretty crowded.”

While you were talking, he tapped on his phone, probably to stop the music from his ear pods. “Oh. Oh, okay.”, he said, a little surprised. He probably thought you stopped him for a photo or something. He stared at you for a few seconds, while you were wondering if you had made any mistakes in the one sentence you spoke .

“I-I’ll go back the same way, then. Thanks, love.”, he smiled, dimples popping and although you couldn’t see his eyes, you knew they were crinkling. 

“Yeah, of course.”, you smiled back. “Good luck for the show tonight!”, it slipped out before you could think if it was okay to say.

“Thank you! Are you coming?”, he asks, still smiling.

“I am, actually.”

“That’s amazing. I’ll see you tonight, then, love. Gotta go now, thanks again. Bye bye.”

“Bye bye”, you find yourself repeating, and Harry chuckles before running away. You’re still in a daze as you turn to the bakery, almost hitting your head on the transparent glass door, not realizing that you have to open it. You laugh at yourself, and open the door, the smell of those delicious croissants making you beam. Today was going to be a great day.

______________________________________________

“I’ll take so many videos for you.”, you tell your best friend through a video call as you do your hair, getting ready for the show. 

“You better! You look so hot, y/n, I won’t be surprised if Harry himself falls for you.”, she says, winking at you through the screen and you laugh. You had picked out a black top, with a translucent sparkly cover on top, pairing it with a silver skirt. You did your makeup minimally, except for your eyes, you put on some shimmery eye shadow. Once you were ready, you said bye to your best friend and got going.

You reach the venue, chatting up with a few girls immediately, sharing bracelets and just sharing where you’re all from. You were led to your places when the show was about to start, and you had fun while the opening act was going on. You weren’t dancing yet though, you were saving your energy for when Harry would take the stage.

And finally, there he was. The man you saw in the morning, except now he was radiating more confidence and charm. He was up there probably doing his favorite thing in the world. He looked incredibly attractive in his outfit for the night, silky light blue pants paired with a pink and blue jacket. The color combinations complimented his features wonderfully, not to mention the perfectly placed tattoos over his chest and abdomen.

You sang along with the rest of the crowd as Harry started Music for a Sushi Restaurant. Harry was running around all over the stage, and his eyes were drifting around, looking everywhere while he continued to sing. It seemed like he was searching for something, or someone. 

When he gets to your side of the stage, for a minute, you feel like his eyes meet yours, and you’re not able to make sure because of all the lighting and there are a lot of people around you. But you can confirm he was indeed looking at you, because he grins as he brings his hand up and gives you a wave. 

You gasp and wave back. He remembers you from the morning!

For the rest of the show, you noticed that Harry was coming to your side of the stage quite often, and even looking at you as you sang the lyrics back to him. He would even lean over slightly, almost as if he was directly singing to you. You enjoyed all the songs and Harry’s energy was infectious. He kept bouncing around the stage, cracking jokes, reading out signs, making people happy and being the man he is. During the last song, which was Kiwi, he did his little dance and you did the same with your new friend next to you, and he stopped to watch you both, amused.

“Oh my god, he liked our dance!”, she squeals next to you.

You definitely had a lot to tell your best friend.

You’re having mixed feelings by the end of the show. Happy because you had THE BEST night ever, and sad because it’s over. You were gonna have to say goodbye to your new friends, and to Harry. 

Little did you know, Harry had different plans.

_______________________________________________

Harry couldn’t stop thinking about you. Even as he was running through the crowd to go backstage, escorted by the security, he was looking over to where you stood, hoping to catch another glimpse of you.

But he couldn’t find you. He was too taken back by your beauty and kindness that he even forgot to ask your name in the morning. But he wasn’t gonna give up. He needed a chance to see you again.

So he asked his security to find you, telling them where you had been for the show. 

“Well this is a first, special girl eh, mate?”, Mitch teases him backstage, chugging down some cold water. 

“I’m just curious to know more about her.”, Harry says, not denying what Mitch had said. Clearly everyone in his band had noticed that he was watching a particular someone in the crowd. He thought he hadn’t made it so obvious.

Harry walked around, adrenaline still pumping through his veins, and Sarah passed him some water too. “Calm down, H, they’ll find her. Even if they can’t, if you really want to see her, we’ll figure something out.”

“How?”, he asked.

Sarah winked. “Leave that to me. Your fans are capable of a lot of things, you know.”

Harry didn’t question that. 

To his absolute delight, security had indeed found you, and Harry rushed into a separate room to meet you, not wanting to scare you with the whole band. He thought you would probably be nervous about all of this too.

There you stood, clutching your bag in one hand, your arm covered with bracelets, and his eyes shifted to your face, seeing you up close for the second time today. 

God, you were gorgeous.

Strikingly beautiful eyes that he was finding a hard time looking away from the whole evening. Perfect, soft features and your smile had him smiling ear to ear. 

“Am I in trouble?”, you asked nervously.

“Oh no, sorry love, I just didn’t get your name. I wanted to thank you again for this morning.”, he said. 

“Oh! It’s all good, I hate being interrupted during my morning run too. I’m y/n!”, you smile, and Harry extends his hand, shaking yours. “Hello, y/n, I’m Harry.”

You giggle, finding it funny that he was introducing himself and he can’t help but laugh. “Nice to meet you, Harry. The show was amazing, like crazy.”

“Yeah? I’m glad you enjoyed it, love.”, Harry says happily. “I didn’t spook you out sending the security behind you did I?”

“Kinda. I really thought I was in trouble for taking a shot the girl next to me offered or something..”

Harry laughs, and you smile sheepishly. “You all did shots without me?”, he asked, a fake hurt tone to his voice.

“Oh no, did you wanna do one?”

Harry shakes his head, dimples popping. “Just kidding, y/n. I just wanted to get to know you a little bit. You had my attention the whole night.”

You blush, not knowing what to reply, really just saying, “Oh..um..”

“Do you want to go hang out for a while? If it’s okay, of course. It’s completely fine if it’s not, it is late and you must have places to be-”, Harry starts rambling nervously.

“I’d love to!”, you piped up, and his grin widened. “Yeah?”

It’s true that no one believes in love at first sight, until they meet that one special person who comes along and steals their heart.

__________________________________________

Taglist: Taglist: -@livypops12352568 @harrydeary, @harryswifee, @harrysbxtchh, @gracelovesethan, @kiwitsayedsugar, @angeldavis777,@madstyles3204, @youngpastafanmug, @fruity-harry, @wannaliveinparadise @hermionelove

Let me know if you want me to add you to my taglist or if there are any changes, love you all so much.

[songbirdseung]

silly boy / park sunghoon

your "friends" keep telling you that your new boyfriend is too much of a shy nerd for you, but they don't know how much of a man the silly boy is.

the bar tonight was much quieter than usual, just a few people spread out in the tiny, cozy bar. quiet background music accompanied the murmurs of different conversations shared throughout the room. you were with your friends, laughing and chatting, having a good time, when all of a sudden, the smile on your face faded into a small frown. the conversation had shifted to your boyfriend, sunghoon.

sunghoon, park sunghoon. your boyfriend of two amazing years. he was currently at home, in his home office, working late. while you were out here with your friends, the same friends who never truly understood why you’d started a relationship with him in the first place.

don’t get them wrong—they thought he was gorgeous, practically model material, but sunghoon’s quiet, reserved nature wasn’t their idea of "boyfriend material." they’d often remind you that you deserved someone affectionate, someone who’d shower you with love openly and without hesitation, someone who wouldn’t be shy about showing the world how much they adored you.

but their words always went in one ear and out the other. because they didn’t see what you saw. they didn’t see how, behind closed doors, in the quiet moments away from the world, sunghoon clung to you like glue—superglue, even. he wasn’t loud about his love, but it was there, steady and unwavering, in every little thing he did. it never bothered you how he presented himself to others; his love for you was real, even if it wasn’t on display for everyone to see.

"i can’t believe you’ve made it this long with him," one of your friends said, breaking your thoughts.

you sighed, rolling your eyes. the urge to speak up, to defend him, bubbled in your chest. "you guys just don’t get it," you said, your tone calm but firm.

"we’re not trying to be mean," another friend chimed in, raising her hands defensively. "it’s just… don’t you want someone who’s a little more… present? someone who’ll shower you with affection all the time?"

you leaned back in your seat, crossing your arms. "he does show affection. just not in the way you expect him to. not everyone has to be loud about love to mean it."

"but, yn," another friend interjected, "you’re the kind of person who loves big gestures, who deserves to feel like the center of someone’s world."

"and i do," you countered, your voice a little sharper this time. "just because he doesn’t yell it from the rooftops doesn’t mean he doesn’t love me. it’s in the little things. like how he texts me to remind me to eat when he knows I’m busy. or how he’ll wake up early to make sure my coffee is ready before I leave. or how he never lets me go to bed upset, even if it means staying up all night to talk it out. you guys don’t see that side of him because he doesn’t show it to everyone. he shows it to me, and that’s enough."

your friends exchanged glances, clearly unsure of how to respond.

"look," you said, your tone softening, "i appreciate that you care about me. but sunghoon and i, we work. and that’s all that matters."

just then, your phone buzzed on the table. you glanced at the screen and felt your heart flutter at the sight of his name. the message was simple: "don’t stay out too late. i miss you."

a small smile crept onto your face as you typed back a quick reply. your friends noticed the change in your expression but didn’t say anything.

"he’s not perfect," you admitted, putting your phone down. "but he’s perfect for me."

the conversation shifted back to lighter topics after that, but as the night wore on, you found yourself glancing at your phone more often than usual.

later, as you walked into your apartment, you saw him waiting for you in the living room, still in his work clothes, his laptop closed on the coffee table. his eyes lit up when he saw you, and without a word, he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as if you’d been gone for weeks.

"missed you," he murmured against your hair.

"i missed you too," you whispered back, your heart swelling with warmth.

and in that moment, wrapped in his arms, you were reminded all over again why their opinions didn’t matter. because this? this was love. quiet, steady, and unshakable.

[aventurineswife]

hello!! may I req platonic sunday, aventurine, blade and jing yuan with a teen!reader like ai hoshino?

reader is a talented and captivating idol/singer, but outside of their idol persona they are sort of empty, trying to understand love and often doing self-destructive things while doing so, and as a famous idol, they have a stalker problem too :(

Behind Every Smile, There’s A Heart Breaking

Tags: Sunday x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Blade x Reader, Jing Yuan x Reader, Teen!Reader, Platonic Relationships, Ai Hoshino based Reader, Angst, Self-Discovery, Idol Life, Vulnerability, Emotional Support, Reader has a Stalker, Inner Conflict, Mentorship, Protective Characters, Manipulation, Trauma, Solitude, Psychological Struggles, Emotional Support.

Warnings: Mentions of Stalking, Emotional Distress, Self-destructive Tendencies, Manipulation, Themes of Loneliness, Vulnerability, Existential Angst, And Mental Health Struggles.

You stood backstage, adjusting the microphone in your hand, the weight of the moment pressing on your shoulders. The bright stage lights did little to alleviate the feeling of emptiness that gnawed at you. On stage, you were a star—brilliant, magnetic, adored by millions. But offstage, the glitter faded, and the walls closed in. The adoration of your fans never filled the void inside, and despite the applause, you often found yourself grasping at an idea of love that seemed just out of reach.

Lately, it seemed like the only thing that kept you tethered to reality were the constant reminders that you were under surveillance. You had a stalker, someone who had made it their personal mission to track your every move. It was terrifying, and the fear of being watched sent shivers down your spine, but you couldn’t speak out. After all, you were an idol—the show must go on.

As you prepped for your next performance, you felt a presence behind you. The air shifted, and you turned to find Sunday standing at the doorway, his soft eyes observing you with a quiet intensity. His expression was unreadable, but there was something in his gaze—something soft, perhaps even caring, that made you pause.

“You look troubled,” Sunday said, his voice gentle, almost too soft for someone usually as composed as he appeared. "What is it that's on your mind?"

You sighed, looking down at your shoes, the weight of everything threatening to crush you. “I just… sometimes I feel like I'm just pretending. Everyone loves the idol version of me, but outside of that, I'm just… lost. I don’t even know what love really is, and I can’t keep up this act forever. It’s exhausting.”

Sunday’s gaze softened further, and his wings fluttered subtly behind his ears, the feathers catching the light. He took a few steps forward, his presence comforting despite the distance you tried to maintain. “You’re not alone in feeling lost. Sometimes, the world demands so much from us, and we forget to ask ourselves if it’s what we truly want. But that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to understand love. To find it.”

You tilted your head, a flicker of curiosity in your eyes. "You... think it's possible? After all, everything feels like a game I can’t win."

Sunday’s expression grew even more solemn. “Love is not a game, [Name]. It’s not a thing to be won or lost. It’s something we discover in moments of vulnerability, in our weaknesses as much as our strengths. You don’t have to figure it out alone, and you don’t need to carry that weight all by yourself. If you ever want to talk about it… I’m here.”

His words held a gravity that you couldn’t ignore. For the first time in a long while, you felt the possibility of something real—something deeper than the fleeting affection from fans or the hollow praise of strangers. It wasn’t a solution, but it was a start.

You nodded, finally lifting your gaze to meet his. “Thanks, Sunday.”

With a warm, almost imperceptible smile, Sunday offered his hand. “Anytime, [Name]. You’re not alone in this, even if the world feels like it is.”

The glimmering lights of the casino were nothing compared to the brilliance of the crowd that surrounded you, cheering as you hit every note perfectly in tune. They adored you, and in return, you gave them the illusion of happiness. On stage, you were flawless—a talented idol who seemed untouchable. But in the solitude of your dressing room, away from the applause, you couldn’t shake the feeling of emptiness that haunted you. Fame felt like a cage, and the deeper you went, the more detached you became from the version of yourself they adored.

Tonight, you felt it stronger than ever—someone was watching you. The sense of dread that had followed you for days was now at its peak. You could feel eyes on your every movement, and it made your skin crawl. The door to your dressing room clicked open softly, and you turned to find Aventurine standing there, his eyes gleaming in the low light, a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes playing at the corners of his lips.

“You look troubled,” he remarked, his voice smooth, almost too smooth. “Is something weighing on you, [Name]?”

You froze for a moment, reluctant to voice your concerns. It was hard to speak about the things that gnawed at your soul, especially to someone like Aventurine. He was too calculating, too manipulative—yet, for some reason, you found yourself wanting to open up.

“I… I don’t know what’s real anymore. Out there, I’m everything people want me to be. I’m an idol, a singer, admired and adored. But when I take off the mask, I’m just this… hollow person. I don’t understand love, and I keep making mistakes… self-destructive ones. And there’s this stalker, someone who’s been following me, and I don’t know who I can trust.” you admitted, the words tumbling out.

Aventurine’s gaze flickered for a moment, his expression unreadable, but he said nothing. He stepped closer, the faintest hint of amusement in his eyes as he examined you like a puzzle to be solved.

“Trust is a delicate thing, isn’t it?” he mused. “So many people want to give it freely, and others… would rather hoard it. But that doesn’t change the fact that it’s a dangerous gamble. You, [Name], are a high-stakes game—your mind, your heart, everything you are. And you’re playing a game you might not be able to win.”

You blinked, startled by his frankness. “What do you mean?”

Aventurine smirked, tapping his fingers lightly on the side of his glass, as if deep in thought. “The truth is, people like us—those of us who play in the high stakes of fame and power—often lose sight of what really matters. People crave the illusion of control, the thrill of the game, but sometimes… they forget that the price of losing can be their very soul.”

He leaned in slightly, his eyes locking onto yours. “But I’ll let you in on a secret, [Name]. The greatest gambles are the ones we don’t make alone. Maybe you’ve lost a few rounds, but there’s always a new game. You don’t have to play it by the rules everyone else sets.”

You swallowed, unsure if you were supposed to be comforted or unnerved. Aventurine’s words were a mix of both, a careful balance of truth and manipulation that only he could wield.

“I don’t know what to do anymore…” you whispered.

“Then let me show you,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “Let me show you how to play the game and win. You might not understand love, but perhaps that’s just another game to be mastered.”

There was something both comforting and terrifying in his gaze—he understood you in ways no one else did, even if it came with a dangerous price.

Aventurine’s smile widened, a devilish glint in his eye as he offered you a hand, his voice low and enticing. “Shall we gamble, [Name]?”

Blade watches you perform from the shadows, his piercing eyes locked on your every move. On stage, you're nothing short of captivating—a star in your own right, your voice filling the room with an ethereal beauty. Yet, he can’t shake the feeling that something’s amiss. He’s seen it before in others: the void behind the glimmering façade, the emptiness that gnaws at the soul when the spotlight dims.

Off-stage, he knows the truth. He’s caught glimpses of the way you interact with your fans, the way your eyes, too, betray the emptiness you try so hard to hide. You’re lost, and it's evident in the way you spiral—pushing yourself to the brink, self-destructive tendencies lurking beneath the surface. Blade’s eyes narrow. He understands that kind of pain, that desire to disappear into oblivion, to break free from the chains that bind you to this hollow existence.

He doesn’t need to ask you about the stalker; he’s already seen the glint of fear in your eyes after your performances, the way your steps falter, and how you always look over your shoulder. Blade knows all too well the weight of being hunted, of feeling like your every move is being watched.

"You think you're strong," Blade murmurs, his voice low, "but you are already broken."

His words aren’t meant to harm; they’re a reflection of a truth he understands all too well. You’ve built a wall of smiles and cheers, but it’s fragile. Behind the glittering idol persona is a person in need of saving. Blade’s expression softens, just a fraction, a hint of something almost compassionate in his gaze.

“I don’t need to be saved,” you respond quietly, almost as if you’re convincing yourself. “I can handle it.”

His broken sword glints in the dim light, a sharp reminder of the destruction he’s already walked through. He steps forward, his presence imposing, but oddly calm. "You can try, but in the end, nothing can erase the cracks."

Blade doesn't offer false promises of rescue. Instead, his presence is one of quiet understanding—a dark figure who has also lost too much and wandered too far. If you need someone to guide you through the abyss, perhaps he's the last person you'd turn to. But for now, he stays close, a protector in the shadows. Because even if you don’t understand the need for help, Blade does.

Jing Yuan is known for his calm demeanor and calculated approach to leadership, but even he can’t ignore the weight you carry. As an idol, you shine brightly in the public eye, drawing attention with your talent and charm. But beneath the surface, Jing Yuan sees the fragility that you hide behind the mask of perfection.

He often watches you from a distance, his sharp eyes perceptive as always. You're young, far younger than most of the people he commands, and yet the burdens you carry seem to age you in a way that troubles him. He knows the toll fame takes on someone, how it chips away at your sense of self, leaving only fragments of the person you once were.

Jing Yuan never asks too much of you. He knows that sometimes, people who appear the strongest are the ones who need the most protection. He’s seen you falter off-stage, when the lights fade and the cameras stop rolling. The emptiness in your eyes, the uncertainty in your movements, it all speaks to a young soul adrift, unsure of where to go next.

"You need not bear this alone," he says softly one evening, his voice almost lost in the quiet hum of the room. You stand beside him, the weight of your burdens pressing down on you.

You glance up at him, a smile playing at the edges of your lips, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “I’m fine, really. I’ve got everything under control.”

Jing Yuan watches you for a long moment, his gaze steady and unyielding. He’s not here to lecture you, not to tell you what you should or shouldn’t do. He knows that advice falls on deaf ears when someone is as lost as you are. Instead, he offers his presence—quiet, reassuring, like the calm before a storm.

“Control is an illusion,” he murmurs, a deep understanding in his voice. “True strength is knowing when to ask for help.”

You stiffen, not used to hearing such vulnerability from someone like him, a leader so accustomed to managing others. But his words strike something within you, something buried beneath the surface. He’s not asking you to reveal everything. He’s simply offering the space to breathe, to exist without the pressure of having to perform for the world.

There’s a moment of silence between you, the two of you standing side by side, both aware of the quiet loneliness that you carry. Jing Yuan doesn’t speak again right away. He doesn’t need to. His quiet support is enough, a reminder that even those who walk the path of leadership carry their own burdens.

And for just a moment, you let yourself be still, feeling the weight of his unspoken understanding. Maybe, just maybe, you don’t have to fight this battle alone after all.

[slashersdaddy]

Hiii! How would slashers react if their usually soft s/o ask them to kill someone for whatever reason?

OOOOHH I LOVE this idea!! give me a sec to whip something up!! (Post production edit: I'm so sorry it took so long! I had a long spell of creative rut!)

VARIOUS SLASHERS WITH SOFT S/O ASKING THEIR PARTNER TO KILL SOMEONE FOR THEM!

Includes: Jason, Micheal, Vincent Sinclair, Lester Sinclair, Bo Sinclair, bubba Sawyer, Thomas Hewitt, Charles Lee Ray, Freddy Krueger

AS ALWAYS MDNI! I AM AN 18+ PAGE! THANK YOU!

Jason Voorhees:

Jason was confused to say the least- you WANTED him to kill someone? What did that bastard do?

When you first come to Jason, your usually cheerful face set in grim determination, and almost resignation- he feared the worst, that you wanted to leave him.

But when you uttered the question, when you asked him to kill someone- his already dead heart felt like it may break again- what did they do? Why did you feel the need for him to kill them?

Does he need to make them suffer? How badly did they hurt you?

It may be overwhelming how many questions he asks (signs) you.

Of course in the end he will of course kill the person- if for nothing else than because he cares for you and your mental health.

He will set you up all cozy before he leaves to do the deed, leaving you with blankets and movies and hot cocoa.

Michael Myers:

No questions asked- he is out the door.

dont even expect to be able to explain WHY you want this guy/girl dead- he will already be grabbing his weapon and heading for the door.

Of course he will make it especially painful- they hurt his S/O after all.

But once its done, he'll slink home, wrapping his arms around you from behind and burying his face in your neck, still bloodied from the asshat who DARED make you upset.

And of course he would cuddle you close, silently holding you and stroking your tummy, low growls are expected if you try to get up at all.

he probably will keep you home for the next few weeks- for your 'protection'

and he does mean it!!!

he wants you safe!!

Even in his own fucked up way <3

Vincent Sinclair:

Vincent will pause- eyes scanning you- thinking perhaps it was a joke

you HAD to be joking right?

but when he realized you weren't his stomach turned-

what the hell had this bastard done? clearly he didn't DESERVE to be immortalized- so of course Vincent wouldn't use him at all in his art

rather making Lester 'dispose' of the body quietly

he would make it painful- violent; much more than usual

Once the deed is done he will coddle you, showing you little sculptures, or if you are interested in art- draw and paint with you, his watchful gaze never leaving you- you were his messiah, his god/dess you were his everything-

he would make sure you were safe.

even though he would usually leave this to his brother, it's personal now

Lester Sinclair

Now Lester, he's taken off gaurd by this request, you his sweet lil angel cakes are asking him to off someone?

But of course he won't tell you no.

He will make sure to get his Bowie knife all ready to 'take ojt the trash'

He will ask how painful it should to be

If your crying when you ask, even more reason for him to make that bastard suffer worse than they made you suffer.

Bo Sinclair

Bo doesn't ask anymore questions.

All he needs to know is when where and who.

Of course he will make it painful

And of course he will make the fucker suffer, maybe he will even remove a few fingers to torture them.

He wants his partner happy, so hearing you ask him to kill someone sent him off the fucking rails.

Bubba Sawyer

Bubba sees red

Why would you of all people want someone dead?

Unless they hurt you real bad.

That makes him really angry

He doesn't like the idea of you being hurt, let alone someone else hurting you so bad you don't want them alive anymore.

It will be painful

And slow

He knows how to kill fast, so it stands to reason if he doesn't hit vital points he can make them suffer longer

Thomas Hewitt

Tommy sees red, very similar to bubba

Except he will put on a full on manhunt for the fucker

Using more phycological methods first, stalking them like prey

Before snatching them up and ending them brutally

Charles Lee ray

An excuse to kill some sad mother fucker? Gladly.

But when he sees the tears in your eyes, the way you are shaking, it's personal.

It isn't any longer something to waste time.

This fucker hurt his partner.

This bastard dated touch what was his.

Honestly he will probably fillet the fucker

Freddy Krueger

He won't make it easy.

He will torment the bastard for weeks in their dreams before finally striking.

And of course he won't let you forget that you asked him to kill someone

Of course he is worried, he doesn't fully grasp what the sudden change was about, but he doesn't mind killing for you.

[mandalhoerian]

EVERYBODY SHUT UP MY FAVORITE SHOW IS ON

first of all i CANNOT believe how cute the reader is/we are. i mean. even from a normal person's normal perspective, sylus is a big man with an even bigger, shadier aura that screams "fruit man may possibly be using his store as a front for Other Businesses" . and we are taking him on CUTE DATES. HE HAS TO BE UNBELIEVABLY BUSY, AND WHAT, HE'S GOING TO ESCAPE ROOMS ??? RAGE ROOMS???? I'd throw nickles into your wish fountain for snippets of this I can imagine him just standing there and watching the reader the whole time. she's like sherlocking it up in the escape room with not a single input from him and going ham in the rage room and he's studying her like a bug 😭 the reader really matched his quality time needs I LOVE IT. Not one suspicion on him too. no survival instincts. bless her soul i love her. totally understand sylus beefing with the caracal for her sir i see you

for all the fluff that this fic has me smiling at my phone, the backstory of dead parents coming back really caught me off guard! it was such a heavy feeling imagining the reader being forced into settlement all on her own . how small and alone she was. how unfair that it actually made me upset, it's such a realistic scenario. i'd forever feel guilt for not being able to pursue justice for my family's deaths on top of everything else. SO UNFAIR. And the way she tries to act so normal with sylus after the panic attack like it's such a minor inconvenience she shouldn't have bothered him with is. those men deserved everything sylus did/is doing to them . EVERYTHING. I just wished the dude was left alive to SUFFER MORE like losing everything and put in the position of the reader all those years ago with nothing but a settlement on his hands and THEN dying after. but i get sylus's anger i really do. PIECE OF SHITE.

also, HE'S SCA-RY. LOVED HIM BEING SCARY. wdym he talks about fishing (failed) with such mirth after doing all that & confirming the reader saw him get what was coming to him . that is such a sylus move.

For the title, maybe something to do with crows since it started with mephisto . maybe something like "the crow with borrowed plumes" or something, i don't know. they nicknamed the reader dove too, so, there's a theme here???? maybe birds??? "birds of a feather"??? 😭 but not to ramble too much, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS UPDATE, LOVING IT!!!!

untitled (part 6)

He helps you deal with a problem in his own thoughtful ways—unconventional (and illegal) they may be.

one, two, three, four, five, six (current)

tags: sylus x reader, an au where you're an average citizen, slow burn, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, mentions of death, descriptions of a panic attack, problem-solving the n109 zone way

There’s nothing quite like dragging someone into your nonsense—especially when they always let you get away with it.

After that impromptu Frostlight holiday hangout, the long-overdue coat-and-sweater handover felt far less nerve-wracking, even during the meetups that followed. Over the past few weeks, you’ve managed to whisk the busy fruit vendor away to some of the most random spots the city has to offer.

Sometimes, your plans are scenic: the aquarium, park strolls, cozy cafes, trendy restaurants, and curated museums. Other times, they’re chaos incarnate: amusement park rides, escape rooms, and that one rage room session sparked by your urge to send your manager to the afterlife. While Sylus’ schedule frequently takes him out of the city doing whatever it is that in-demand fruit vendors do, you’ve come to appreciate the effort he puts into showing up whenever he can.

(You’re yet to successfully pay for anything. No matter how sneaky you try to be with the waiters and cashiers, he always seems to be one step ahead, swiping his card before you can even reach for yours.)

Funny enough, the more time you spend together, the less you view him through rose-tinted glasses. You've grown to look past his conventional looks and genuinely enjoy his company—especially his deadpan tendencies and razor-sharp wit. That doesn’t mean you’ve stopped obsessing over your appearance before hanging out with him, though. You still agonize over your outfit, fuss over your hair, and polish every detail you can catch in the mirror before stepping out of the house. You can’t help it. But in many ways, you’ve also grown comfortable enough to be yourself around him and bother him with your shenanigans.

Like so.

[You] You sent fruit man a link. [You] let’s go ୧(•ᴗ•)୨ [fruit man] Now why would a kitten go to a cat cafe? [fruit man] Visiting your colony mates? [You] because i said so [You] LETS GO

And so, here you are at the cat café you frequent, gently petting the resident caracal you've grown so fond of.

The café staff often marvel at how calm he is with you, noting that while he doesn't harm anyone, he tends to hiss at every guest and employee. No one else seems to have managed to break through his haughty exterior like you have. Now, the giant feline is practically putty in your arms, its massive paws kneading biscuits into your thankfully jean-covered thighs. 

You tell Sylus as much, smugly stroking its floppy ears.

“Well aren’t you comfortable?” he drawls, glancing at the cat.

“He sure is!” you coo, planting a big, fat kiss on its fluffy head.

You miss the way he narrows his eyes at the feline. “Your drink’s getting cold,” he says, pointing at your neglected cup on the table. “Shouldn’t you finish it while it’s warm?” 

You hold the caracal��s face, its big, round eyes tugging at your heartstrings. “Yup!”

You continue cooing at the cat, massaging its ears. Sylus scowls.

“This café seems to have quite the selection of pastries,” he comments airily, head tilted back as he skims through the barely readable menu above the counter. “Do you have any recommendations?”

That perks you up, snapping your gaze back to him and pausing your petting. “I think they have some seasonal goods this time of the year! I’ll take a look for you. Stay here.”

With that, you get up, sneak in another scratch under the big furball's chin, and take your leave. Once you’re out of earshot, Sylus smirks at the cat, who hisses at him.

“Know your place, little one.”

He’s met with another discontented hiss.

As your eyes trace the elegant cursive of the overhead menu board, you absently note the familiar chime of the café door. Your focus flits from brownies to croissants, savory dishes to frothy lattes, until a featured seasonal s’mores cookie catches your attention. Your mouth waters. Maybe Sylus would like this?

The decision is cut short when you’re abruptly shoved against the counter, the edge biting into your abdomen. A sharp yelp escapes you as pain blooms, forcing your palm to press against the throbbing spot. Rattled, you spin around.

“Excuse me—“

The words die on your tongue.

Standing before you is a man in a crisp white button-up, the sleeves rolled neatly above his forearms. He must be important—if the expensive-looking suit jacket draped over his shoulder is anything to go by. 

But it’s not the over-gelled hair, the tacky accent color of his suit pieces, his inability to use his inside voice in a small café, nor his apparent lack of spatial awareness that has you frozen in place.

This is the guy that killed your family.

You're sure of it.

You can’t be mistaken. How can you be mistaken? 

That smirk—cocky and insufferable—has been seared into your memory since the day you sat in that cramped police room, papers shaking in your hands as his lawyer delivered their settlement offer. You’ve never fully remembered the details of that day, but the sinister curl of his lips as he shook your hand would haunt you till the day you die.

He’s talking. Laughing. With a woman at his side and a man on the other. Maybe they’re his colleagues? You’re not sure.

You’re going to be sick.

Ears ringing, you hold a hand out as you move to the café’s door. The dull gleam of the sun registers faintly, along with the jagged pattern of the sidewalk bricks and the discarded, empty cup beneath a bush. As you stumble outside, the cool air bites sharply, unforgiving against your exposed skin.

Then you’re in the alley, doubled over by the dumpster, heaving until there’s nothing left but bile and ragged breaths.

What are you doing?

You know time doesn't stop. It never has, and it never will—not even in the face of mortal loss. The world doesn’t get to pause for your grief; people will still go to work, teachers will still hold their classes, the sun will still rise, and people will still find joy and laughter in their everyday lives. Death is inevitable and universal. Some face it sooner, some in ways more cruel than others—but in the end, it claims everyone.

You know this. You know this.

So why does it feel like your graduation day all over again?

You don’t know how long you’ve been hunched over, knees and palms pressing painfully against the rough concrete. Gradually, the ringing in your ears begins to subside, and you slowly discern the distant garble of words behind you and the grounding hold on your back.

“...You’re okay. I’m here, sweetie. Come back to me. You're okay.”

Large, calloused hands cradle your jaw with careful tenderness, gently guiding you to meet a pair of worried scarlet eyes. The moment your unfocused gaze regains some semblance of clarity, he lets out a slow exhale, the cold air puffing around him.

“There you are,” he murmurs, smiling slightly.

“...Sylus?”

He traces a finger along your cheek. “Did something happen?”

The spell breaks, and a wave of heat rises up your neck as you finally register your form on the ground, your unpleasant mess just beside you. Worse, you’ve inconvenienced him. And for what? For some overreaction to a man you had already agreed to settle things with?

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me,” you say with a shaky laugh, trying to push yourself up. But your knees give way, and you collapse back onto the ground. Shuddering from the impact of the cold, wet concrete, you flash him an embarrassed smile. “I, uh, might need a few more moments.”

Without a word, he lifts you by the armpits, a startled squeak escaping you as he effortlessly cradles you in his arms. He gently guides you to sit on one solid bicep, then scoops up your fallen bag with his free hand. You instinctively wrap your arms around his neck.

“Wait—”

“You don’t have to tell me what happened,” he says as he begins his trek toward his parked SUV. “You’re not obligated to explain yourself to anyone.”

Your breath catches. He opens the door to the passenger seat and carefully lowers you onto the plush leather. Leaning down, he meets your gaze, his forearm resting on the roof’s edge.

“But know that you don’t deserve to have your feelings or experiences downplayed—especially not by yourself.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

Sylus settles into the driver's seat, the engine purring to life as he starts the drive, presumably toward your house. He must be thinking that a familiar, comforting place would be best for you right now.

A wave of guilt washes over you for cutting your time together short, especially since you were really looking forward to surprising him with that s’mores cookie. But the words won’t come, lodged tight in your throat.

By the time you reach your neighborhood, the sky has darkened. Just as he pulls up, ready to open his door, you reach out, placing your hand on his forearm.

"Sylus, I..."

Your voice falters.

To your surprise, he takes your hand in his, his fingers brushing over yours in a gentle caress. He doesn’t rush you. No hint of impatience. Just a quiet, comfortable presence, giving you the space to breathe and find your words.

Slowly, you tell him everything.

Keeping his earlier words in mind, you tell the facts as they are, your emotions as they unfolded. You describe the accident, how it happened, and the events that followed—the pressure to accept the settlement offer, the intimidation. You talk about the loneliness that set in, the growing distance between you and those you once felt close to, all because their happiness became too much to bear. How the world kept moving, while you felt trapped in the same place, stuck in time.

You talk about how you saw the driver again in the café earlier, how it resurfaced all those unpleasant memories and unearthed emotions you’d buried. Despite his advice on not minimizing yourself, you let an apology slip for letting things get to you and cutting your hangout short as a result.

You don’t tell him, but his presence in your life—albeit unexpected and fairly new—has done wonders in pulling back the heavy darkness weighing you down. You hope the depth of your gratitude comes across in the way you hold his hand, gripping it tightly, like it’s the only thing keeping you from sinking.

“Wow, I feel much better,” you finally say, laughing shakily at how silly your earlier reaction seems now. You squeeze his hand gently. “Thanks for listening to me, Sy. I really appreciate it.”

You miss the way his eyes flash at the nickname.

You watch as he examines your reddened eyes and watery lashes, his expression unreadable, before squeezing your hand in return. “I’m just honored that you trusted me enough to share that with me.”

You muster a grin. “I promise to make up for earlier. I've been dying to try this new recipe I found. How about a box of experimental cookies?”

After a brief pause, he lets out a low chuckle. “As long as it’s edible,” he says, lips curling into a smirk, effectively dissipating the lingering tension.

You give his arm a soft whack. “You’re gonna regret it when they turn out actually good!”

He sighs, gazing at where you swat at him with faux pity. “What, with that little kitten pat?”

After a few rounds of bickering—with you insisting that it was not a little kitten pat—you finally exchange your goodbyes. Stepping out of his SUV, you wave cheekily, heading toward your doorstep. He returns the gesture, his wave a little slower, as he waits for you to reach the door.

As soon as you turn your back, the bright scarlet in his eyes dulls to a dangerous crimson hue, black-red tendrils barely contained within a closed fist.

—

You stare up at the building in front of you, mouth agape.

At least eight stories high, its grandeur is impossible to miss, even amidst the notable luxury shops and high-end establishments of the uptown plaza. Massive windows stretch across the facade, their panes glinting like polished gems in the late afternoon light. At its center, a grand arched entrance commands attention, flanked by twin marble columns with gold detailing. The architecture is reminiscent of those vintage and timeless mansions you always see on royalty-themed documentaries.

Discreetly, you pull out your phone to scroll through your conversation with Sylus, double-checking the maps link he sent.

[You] sy!! [You] the cookies turned out pretty good!! [You] i wanna give you some [You] should we meet up?? [fruit man] Congrats on the successful outcome of your baking experiment sweetie. [fruit man] When do you want to hand them over? [You] i was thinking today if it’s ok! they taste best while they’re still fresh [fruit man] I might run late due to a meeting. why don’t you head here while theres still light out? [fruit man] We can go have dinner after. [fruit man] fruit man sent you a link. [You] oooh is this the place you’re staying at? [fruit man] Its an old guest lodging I run. [fruit man] Its convenient for whenever I have business in Linkon.

You stare at the screen incredulously, then glance back up at the towering behemoth before you. This is the old guest lodging he was talking about? You’re no lodging connoisseur, but you’re pretty sure this is a five-star hotel.

Deciding not to question it further lest you get a headache, you square your shoulders and step inside.

Immediately, you feel like an outsider as you pass through the elegant interior, your gaze flitting between the extravagant glass chandelier and the plush velvet sofas in the vast lounge area. Even the guests moving about look like they own at least three vacation homes around the world, like they spend their weekends at the golf club for fun.

A staff member approaches to greet you, her gloved hands neatly clasped as she dons an excellent customer service smile.

“Welcome to the Noir Manor! Do you have a reservation?”

“Um, no." Crap, even your voice sounds out of place. "But I’m here for Sylus?”

Her eyes widen. She reaches into the pocket of her work skirt and pulls out a small notebook, swiftly scanning its pages. She reads your name aloud, her eyes flicking to you for confirmation.

“That’s me, yes,” you say, fingers fiddling with the handle of your wooden picnic basket.

Without missing a beat, she pulls a walkie-talkie from her breast pocket.

“Attention, over. We’ve got white dove in the lobby. Please be advised. Over.”

She then tucks the device back and turns to you with a more genuine smile.

"Mr. Sylus is currently in a meeting on the top floor, but he’ll be finishing shortly. Please, make yourself comfortable in the lounge area in the meantime."

You don’t need to be told twice. The wide lobby space and high ceilings are starting to make you feel claustrophobic. After relaying your thanks, you beeline for the single sofa chair at the farthest end.

You’re content enough just admiring the impressive architecture and interior design of the place, but strangely, hotel staff keep coming up to you every few minutes, bringing fresh pastries and tea. They also keep bringing in soft throw pillows, helping you settle more comfortably in your comically large seat. The attention has you mortified—both from the employees and the guests casting furtive glances at the movable table they brought over, laden with your private snack spread.

Desperate to shake off your nerves, you scan the room again, your eyes immediately locking onto the massive widescreen TV mounted on the pillar near the lobby desk. It’s muted, but the bold headlines and auto-generated captions on the news report are more than enough for you to follow along.

You barely make out the words flashing across the screen. Something about the new CEO of a prominent national bank chain drunk driving driving down the highway and crashing into a streetlight pole. The family has apparently urged the local police to investigate for foul play, citing the unnaturally high speed he was driving. An image of the driver flashes on screen.

You stand up abruptly, your pulse hammering in your ears.

It's the guy at the café.

Your family’s killer.

He’s dead.

“There better not be a missing cookie in there,” an amused voice says from behind you, making you jump.

Sylus. He’s wearing a patterned maroon button-up, sleeves rolled up. Normally, the exposed collarbone beneath his inner white shirt would have you looking away, heat rising to your cheeks. But you're too stunned by what you’ve just learned to even register it.

Your thousand-yard stare has him frowning. He rests a hand on your shoulder, the other tucking stray strands of hair behind your ear.

“Everything alright, kitten?”

Words catch in your throat as you weakly point a finger toward the TV, the report now showing a live interview with the former CEO—the driver’s father. Apparently, they’re filing for bankruptcy by the end of next year’s first quarter and are asking for prayers during their difficult time.

You don’t see Sylus’ face, your eyes drifting in and out of focus on the gold pendant of his necklace. Instead, you feel him gently guide your head against his chest, a hand softly patting your back in a soothing rhythm.

“If anything, he had it coming.”

The vibration of his voice hums against your ear, and you exhale, your eyes fluttering shut. "It just feels surreal, I guess," you mumble, your hands hanging limply at your sides. "I mean, I just saw him, what, two weeks ago?"

A brief silence hangs between you before he pulls back, carefully cupping your cheeks and guiding your bleary gaze to meet his intense scarlet eyes.

“How about showing me what you've made for me? I've been looking forward to tasting it with you all afternoon.”

You nod absentmindedly, allowing him to guide you to the private elevator concealed behind the lobby desk. With your bow-adorned basket in one hand, he flicks a finger over his shoulder. Instantly, the staff moves with practiced ease, swiftly tidying up your previous spot in the lounge.

As the elevator doors close and begin their ascent to his office on the top floor, he gently coaxes you out of your dazed state, sharing stories about a fishing excursion he recently took up north. He laments his lack of catch during the three-day trip, especially since it was supposed to be the prime season for a rare species in the area.

Had you been more present, you would’ve noticed that, despite his apparently horrendous luck, he seems awfully chipper.

note: i'm 6 parts in and i still can't decide on a title 🧍‍♀️

tag list: @thepotatoislost, @xxfaithlynxx, @browneyedgirl22, @vorfreudevortex, @midiplier, @wisteriaflowersss, @euclase0, @leighsartworks216, @keyiswatching, @goldenbirdiee, @delaythings, @datura109, @iloveboysinred, @everythingistaken00, @moonlight-inthe-sea, @blueberrysquire, @mourning-into-dancing, @bookfreakk, @everywherenothere, @vvhira, @laidenbreecatchall, @kyushii, @lucifer-says-hii, @sylus-crow, @carmelves, @nishayuro, @comatosebunny09, @withering-dream, @rmjace2, @tinnyrabbit, @socutesotall

[star2fishmeg]

Can I get an ANGST 110 with luke please 🙏

Thank you for requesting <3 - Happy New Year!

ANGST #110 "I'm not jealous, fuck off."

📞 dialling…

Hand gripped around his wrist, y/n dragged Luke into Nico’s empty kitchen, the bright lights in stark contrast with the disco lights in the living room. He didn’t protest, he followed like a dog to the furthest corner away from the doorway. 

“Angel, I’m sorry-” he began, nerves choking him, but he deserved it. He knew he deserved her irritation, the fire two seconds away from tearing through him.

They stopped and she spun around to face him, dropping his wrist and she folded her arms over her chest with a wild, icy glare in her eyes and eyebrows knitted so deep it surely ached. It was his fault, though. They wouldn’t have been there if Luke had just dropped it but no, he couldn’t. Luke ran his hand over his face, glancing at the ceiling before back to her and he sighed. Deeply.

“-What are you sorry for? Do you even know why you’re apologising? Or are you just saying that, so I’ll forgive you and move on?” she snapped, trying to keep her voice low. Her heart thundered in her chest, practically feeling adrenaline surge through every individual vein as angry heat prickled up her neck. 

He almost winced when the sharpness of her tone left her mouth. Y/n never raised her voice at him, no matter how many times his career got in the way of plans or their lives. His stomach twisted in a way he could only describe as a thorn in his side prodding at him, a tightness in his chest and regrettably, he raised his voice back, “He was flirting with you, I know how guys flirt, y/n! I flirted with you. Excuse me for showing him that you’re in a relationship but he clearly couldn’t see the necklace with my initial on.”

‘May Nico Hischier sleep with cold pillows for making the music loud enough to muffle out voices.’ That’s what they thought as they exhaled in unison, y/n pinching her nose bridge before pointing at his chest firmly, but not touching him. It was his fault and only his, deep down he knew that but the pride that he wore like a crown refused to let him accept that. All it took for his instincts to kick off was another guy and y/n to click instantly, easily, laughing and flowing through conversation as if they’d been longtime friends. Then Luke intervened, and suddenly eyes were closing in on them.

“I don’t need you to do that! I would have rejected him anyway, Luke.” She exasperated. Luke’s scowl deepened, but his heart ached. “I didn’t need you to be a diva about it. I don’t know why you think I’d accept his advances; did you really think I leave you like that?”

“Was not a diva,” he pouted slightly, scoffing, “and no. It’s got nothing to do with you! You’re never the problem-”

Her face softened, moving her weight onto one hip and lips pulled into a smirk. The way he pouted, his eyes shifting to the side and how the aggression in his tone had fallen into a sulk, almost, a snarky sulk.

She interrupted him, “-Lu, are you jealous?” 

“I’m not jealous, fuck off. Why would I be jealous of him? My curls are way better than his and he’s not even that tall or whatever. Bet he couldn’t make you genuinely laugh even if he tried.” Luke rambled, the snark in his voice slowly fading the more the words tumbled from his mouth and the insecurity he tried to swallow rang through her ears loud and clear. It wasn’t the first time he’d tried to push something back, soldier through his feelings.

“Oh, Lu, c’mere.” Y/n opened her arms and wrapped them around his waist, pressing her ear to his chest and gradually, ire seeped out and vanished into thin air, the security of his arms around her body replacing it with the love that belonged there. “You’ve got nothing to worry about, my love. I’m all yours and I love you. What’s really the matter?”

He exhaled, body getting that floaty feeling once back in her arms again and the anger gone. He sniffed, holding her tight to his chest and voice quiet and rumbly, “I love you too. I don’t know, I’ve never felt this way and I…I don’t know, got scared that you’d leave me for someone better because you deserve the best. Saw how easily you were talking and wished that was how we were in the beginning, but I was such an awkward dumbass. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry for being a dick.”

“You were my awkward dumbass, though. I don’t want anyone but you, okay? There’s no-one better than my Loverboy and his cute smile and curls that are way better than anyone else’s. So, thank you for apologising.” 

A slight movement caught the corner of Luke’s eye. The cause for his little green demon to make a fool of not only himself, but y/n too. Pulling back slightly, he dipped down to her level, pressing his lips to y/n’s tenderly with his hand sliding to cup her cheek - his other situated on her waist and thumb rubbing the fabric of her top. He kissed her slowly, passionately and little sparks of excitement tingled to her chest and down to her stomach, hands gliding down his waist to his hips, where fingers hooked around his beltloops to tug him closer.  

“Hey, y/n, they’re playing beer pong and- oh shit, my bad.” The guy from earlier stumbled in, eyes widening at the sight and he awkwardly backed away. 

“You saw him coming, didn’t you?” she mumbled into Luke’s lips, only to receive a grin as his answer, “Oh my God, you’re such a dumbass. C’mere.”

[viperify]

Smutmas 2024 | ᴛᴏᴍ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ X ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Celebrating Him.

Short summary: waking up next to your boyfriend on his birthday has its perks.

Warnings: 18+ only! brief oral m!receiving, unprotected p in v, slight begging

A/N: Happy 98th Birthday to this handsome granddaddy. Celebrating Her dropping on my birthday! (soon🤭)

wordcount: 2,0k

Your eyelids flutter open as warm rays of sunshine from outside shimmer onto your face. Something quite unusual at this time of the year. It’s the 31st of December, New Year’s Eve. Tom’s birthday. A smile creeps onto your lips at that thought.

Tom’s birthday. He has always hated celebrating his special day, telling you year after year that you didn‘t need to get him anything, yet you always did. Just like this year. And alongside that, a little treat before you two leave the bedroom.

Slowly, you turn around to face his still sleeping form next to you on the bed. You’ve always adored how pretty his brunette curls looked when he didn’t have them done, messily falling onto his forehead as he sleeps. Normally he’d tell you off for staring at him for a prolonged time, though now? You could do it for as long as you pleased without him noticing. He looks peaceful like this, angelic almost, a stark contrast to his otherwise harsh nature, to how he portrays himself to the outside world. It’s just you who would get to see his vulnerable side on the occasion, such as right now. Only rarely you’d wake before him, mostly he would already be up at his desk, either working or reading the newspaper until you woke.

You appreciate the quiet moments before he wakes. A soft smile graces your lips as he mumbles something inaudible in his sleep. The duvet has slipped slightly, revealing his toned arms and shoulders. His hands rest on the mattress, fingers relaxed and gently curled.

You’d love to caress his soft skin then, trail your fingertips along the inside of his arm up to the crease of his elbow, and back down. Though you stop yourself in time. You decide to let him rest, get his sleep when he can, allow him a slow start to a day he normally despises.

Minutes pass after this, taking in his form as your smile increasingly widens.

Hell, you were a true fool for this man. And you wouldn’t want it any other way.

“You have been staring at me for an awfully long time, darling.” Tom murmurs then, not bothering to open his eyes.

You sigh softly, your head dropping back onto the pillow. “For how long have you been awake?”

“Ever since you turned around.” He replies quietly, voice still thick with sleep. Normally he would have already gotten up by this point, though now he doesn’t even stir.

“You are impossible,” you whisper, scooting closer to him to place a tender kiss on his full lips with a smile. “Happy Birthday, Tom.”

It’s then when he opens his eyes, his rich, deep brown eyes that draw you right in with their intensity. The eyes you fell in love with in the first place, now locked onto yours, igniting a familiar fire between the both of you. “And you know exactly how I feel about that,” he reminds you, swiping a strand of loose hair from your face, never breaking eye contact.

“Mhmmm. Certainly do,” you murmur against his lips, placing a gentle kiss on them before you continue. “Although you deserve a little treat, don’t you think?”

Tom huffs softly, raising one of his eyebrows knowingly. “And what would that be?”

You grin, revealing his bare chest as you tug the duvet aside, not wasting another second before you swing your leg over his hip, straddling him. “Let me show you, Tommy.” The complaint he was about to make dies in his throat as your lips trail kisses down his neck, starting at his jawline.

Tom hums as your teeth occasionally sink into his skin, hands firmly gripping your waist. You take your time with him, nipping and gnawing at his skin, placing kisses on his chest as you feel him grow hard beneath you. To your surprise he doesn’t stop you, though as soon as you grind your hips along his hardened length, even just slightly so, his arms still you. “Sweetheart.” His eyes lock onto yours, the warning evident in his voice. A gentle reminder not to push too far.

 “What’s the matter?” You retort, innocently smiling back at him, fingertips tracing along his exposed V-line. Goosebumps form on his skin as you do, grip loosening the tiniest bit, and you take the opportunity to move yourself once more, moaning softly as the slight friction sends a wave of pleasure straight to your core. You feel his muscles tense beneath you, and with one swift motion, he sits up, his face a mere breath away from yours, eyebrows drawn together.

“If you think this is how—“ Tom begins, voice laced with growing frustration as he firmly holds onto one of your wrists. Your lips curl up into a smirk, gaze wandering to his mouth as he speaks. Before he can finish, you press a finger to his lips, silencing him mid-sentence. “Shhh,” you whisper, capturing him in another kiss.

“Please let me make you feel good, Tom. Just this once,” you breathe, a plea almost, as you break apart. He glances at you for another moment before he exhales deeply, slowly lowering himself back down onto the soft mattress. “Go on, then.”

His confirmation is all you need before you slip further down the bed, positioning yourself in between his legs, the rest of his clothing long discarded on the floor. You rest your hand on his thigh, muscles tensing under your touch. You take one last glance at his expression, innocently smiling at him before your other hand firmly palms his swollen length. Tom’s eyebrows furrow at the contact, lips parting slightly. When you then softly swipe the pad of your thumb over his sensitive tip, his hips involuntarily jerk up into your touch and a soft hiss falls over his lips. The corner of your mouth tugs up at his reaction, satisfaction flickering in your eyes. You repeat what you did, letting your fingertip brush over the delicate skin once more.

“If you don’t- “ he groans, lowly, eyes falling shut in restraint, “fucking do something, I promise-“

It takes everything in you not to let your enjoyment show. Him beneath you, so desperate for your touch. Something he would certainly seek revenge on later. But for now? He was yours to play with.

You lick a torturously slow stripe along a vein stretching from his base to his tip until you decide to grant him his wish, wrapping your full lips around his tip at first, swirling your tongue around it. Tom’s response, a sharp inhale, cuts through the silence, his fingers tangling in your hair. He doesn’t guide you—barely even holds on to you. As soon as your head moves up and down his dick, a strangled groan escapes him, and you peek up at him through your eyelashes. His cheeks have a faint rosy touch to them, eyebrows furrowed as he meets your gaze. “More— Merlin, you can do-“ a grunt interrupts him as he twitches inside of you, “better than this.”

“The question is, do you deserve more?” you taunt, a small grin playing on your face, briefly stroking him up and down with your hand. “Do it. Before I— make you. Merlin, you wouldn’t want me to make you.” He rasps lowly and with that, you let your head sink down again, as far as you possibly can this time.

You know he is close when his eyes lose focus, chest rising and falling quicker, eyebrows drawing together as his cock twitches in your mouth. You release him then, kissing his tip once more.

“Don’t- don’t you dare stop now.” Tom warns, but before he can do anything, you are undressed, back on top of him. “Not going to.” You reply with a smirk, positioning yourself on his hard length, stiff against his lower abdomen.

And it’s everything—having him beneath you, being in control of his pleasure. Something so foreign to you, fresh adrenaline is racing through your veins at the sight.

“Darling. You are aware of how thin my patience is. I suggest you don’t test it.”

You lean forward, hands splayed across his chest, and then you move. Slowly grinding yourself on his length, coating him with your arousal, moaning as his tip brushes against your puffy clit, a jolt of electricity sent through your body at the contact.

He’s growing increasingly impatient, firm hands guiding your movements as his eyebrows draw together. “Fuck— enough of this,” he growls, having you stop your movements, kneading the flesh of your hips. “Let me feel you properly.”

“Still so demanding when it clearly isn’t in your hand. Say the word.”

The word. Please. Tom Riddle doesn’t beg for anything, and you know it. But today — you would make him.

“You can’t be—“

Your hips grind on him as much as his grip allows you, and you moan, eyes falling shut. “I can get off like this. The question is, can you?”

“Merlin help you. Please— Please let me feel you,” he grunts, jaw clenching at his words.

A smirk creeps onto your lips, pure pleasure coursing through you at his plead. You know you’ve won. Lifting yourself onto your knees, you guide his tip between your folds before you let him split you apart slowly, sinking down on his cock inch by torturous inch. Your eyes flutter close at the sensation, mouth falling open at the blissful stretch on your walls. Tom groans as you take all of him, tip touching your sensitive cervix as you start rocking your hips up and down his length.

Beads of sweat form on your forehead as your thigh muscles begin to hurt, though numbed by the building ache in your lower stomach. “Fuck— just like that, squeezing me so tight.” Tom encourages, his hand kneading one of your breasts as they bounce with your every move.

A guttural groan falls over his lips as he watches his cock disappear into your slick cunt, chasing his own orgasm as he snaps his hips into yours from below, pulling your hips down onto his length.

“You want to come? Stay still, god— stay still and I might just— let you.” You gasp, mind growing hazy as your own climax builds rapidly. Your hands find support on his waist, pinning him down and allowing yourself to sink down on him from a different angle, inevitably having his tip massage that spongy spot inside of you that has you see stars. A loud moan echoes throughout the room as you tumble over the edge, walls greedily clenching around his cock as the shockwaves of your orgasm ripple through your body. The speed of your movements falters and he takes over, pounding into you from below, soon finding his own release deep inside of you with a low grunt.

Both of you still as you are catching your breath, staring at each other as you calm down from your highs. A satisfied smile curls on your lips as you take in his flushed face.

You wipe your forehead with the back of your hand, hissing in discomfort as you attempt to get up, your burning thigh muscles protesting against the movement.

“That’s where that smart mouth of yours gets you. Guess you are stuck.” Tom taunts you, hands wandering from your waist to tend to your aching muscles, pressing his fingertips into your skin soothingly.

“Help me, please?” You ask, but he shakes his head.

With one swift movement he flips you over so he is on top of you, teeth sinking into the tender skin of your neck. “We aren’t done here, and you know it.”

[olailamajnoon]

Kara Zor-El was sneezing out into a clump of tissues what sounded like heavy glutinous nasal discharge.

Clark was looking at her without much sympathy. The rest of the Justice League were looking at Kara with fascinated revulsion.

"You have a cold," Bruce observed.

"You are the world's greatest detective!" Kara replied, awed.

"How," said Bruce. "How did this happen."

"She was exposing herself to Kryptonite," said Clark, turning to Kara with a look that said she deserved every bit of what she was going through.

"To build my resistance!" said Kara." I'm not going to be vulnerable to and at the mercy of a puny green element!" She sneezed again for a long time into the napkin, and by the time she was done the entire Justice League looked faintly like they were about to throw up their breakfasts.

"So your compromised immune system got infected by an Earth virus," said Bruce calmly.

"He's a brilliant man," said Kara, turning to Clark. "I can see why you keep him around."

"If you die," said Clark, "don't you dare come haunt me. Let the record show that I tried to dissuade you from hurting yourself."

"Ghosts don't do rules. I will come haunt both of you," said Kara, pointing at Bruce and Clark. "Just for shits and giggles, and because I can."

Bruce was giving her a Look.

"Hey, don't you dare look at me like that!" said Kara. "It's not my fault I don't feel safe around you, Mr. Contingency Plans Consisting Mostly of Kryptonite."

Bruce was still staring at her, saying nothing.

"He's still giving me the Look," Kara said, pointing and turning to Clark. Clark opened his mouth and closed it.

Kara sneezed again, noisily and moistly.

"Take your disgusting mucus-filled sinuses elsewhere," Bruce snapped.

"Don't tell me you're a germaphobe." Kara smiled serenely.

"I'm an idiot-phobe," said Bruce.

Kara sighed. "I just want to be a better fighter. A better...whatever it is I do. If I get taken down everytime by a green glowy rock, it just...sucks."

Bruce steepled his fingers and leaned forward, and began talking earnestly. "When you joined the League, you signed a few papers, making your health and well-being a League monopoly. You do not own your person anymore. Your body is a Justice League asset, and what that means is, you cannot hurt yourself—for any reason—without permission from the team. You do not so much as stub your toe without our say-so."

"That sounds deeply disturbing," said Kara.

"If you find it deeply disturbing, you are free to leave." Bruce's mouth was firm. Kara turned to look at Clark. Clark was looking at the table.

"Clark?"

"It's one of the by-laws," Clark said finally. "Technically the Justice League can hold you responsible for any self-harm. That's why I told you to read the papers before you signed them."

"What?!"

"Now the JLA can sue you for damages to League property."

"I don't—I don't even have a legal presence, oh my god!"

"So, Kara," said Bruce, frowning. "What's it going to be? The door or the rules?"

"I wanna punch you both so bad right now!"

"Understandable," Bruce said. "But ultimately your health is a priority. You're not to do this again."

"I have to second that, Kara," said Diana softly. "If you had mental health issues that would be one thing. But you did this not to escape from any pain, but simply to...I don't know, prove yourself?"

Kara's face was white. "You people," she said finally, "are the world's biggest arseholes."

Hal Jordan huffed a laugh. "We can sue you though. So knock it off."

"I guess I have no choice?" Kara said hesitantly.

"None whatsoever," said Bruce. "The next incident of you injecting Kryptonite into your body, you will be suspended."

"Indefinitely," said Diana. "We are not a group of friends who hang out in silly costumes. We are a team, with definite goals and objectives. The fate of humanity very often lies in our hands. Being vulnerable isn’t a weakness, not trusting your team is."

Kara felt guilty and relieved at the same time. The Kryptonite was humming in her blood. Weakness. "Fine," she said, sulkily. It wasn't worth it, getting kicked from the League just to be a cold-ridden Kryptonite-laden corpse.

"You'll have to do better than fine," said Hal gently. "Give us your word. No more idiotic experiments."

"I give you my word, dipshits," said Kara bitterly, and looked at Clark.

Clark looked relieved. "You'll be fine, Kara. It's okay to feel...like you've got to carry the whole world's weight on your shoulders. But sometimes you gotta let go, kid."

"Letting go is the story of my fucking life!" Kara snarled. She got up and tottered out of the room, slamming the door in her wake. The sound echoed silently for a while.

"So," said Hal once she was gone. "Whose brilliant idea was it to come up with that bullshit? About that clause in those documents?"

"She was hurting herself," Clark said dimly.

"And I knew," says Bruce, "that she wouldn't listen to reason. She needed a compelling...threat."

"You fucking a-hole control freak," Hal muttered.

"But Bruce, what if she goes searching the contracts for those by-laws?" asked Barry timidly.

"It's a long afternoon for me," said Bruce, holding up a sheaf of papers, "of retroactively editing signed documents."

"You mean forgery," said Diana.

Bruce smiled grimly. "Potato po-tah-to."

"So, I'm guessing," said Hal, "that I can sue you for that time you forced me to take my League salary on pain of expulsion."

"You’d lose," said Bruce casually, getting up. "I have better lawyers."

[rafesslxt]

Happy New Year

summary: when your bf JJ doesn‘t give you your new years kiss, Rafe takes matters into his own hands warnings: kind of cheating?, friends telling you you deserve better, kissing, pda notes: thought about this under the shower words: 1,8k

2025 was only 10 minutes away. Hopefully the new year would be better for all of us.

"Oh we need new drinks to clink glasses!" Sarah‘s voices interrupted my thoughs about the last twelve months. "Yeah probably, let‘s get a few for everyone. I‘m gonna gelp you." John B said, wrapping an arm around his girlfriend‘s shoulder.

I looked at JJ and smiled softly at him. "You wanna come too? Gonna help them." He just shook his head and mumbled something under his breath that I didn‘t quite catch, but what I did catch were the reactions from the rest of the group.

That‘s how it‘s going for the last two weeks. JJ was in a bad mood lately and everyone got a taste of it here and there but I did the most.

"Alright.." i sighed and stood up from my seat between him and Kiara who looked at me, her eyes telling me I deserve better. As If she wouldn't tell me everyday. 'JJ is one of my best friends but so are you and you really deserve better than this.'

"You know.. we all love JJ but.." Sarah started as the three of us started to walk towards the bar. "I know. I deserve better and I -" before I could finish my sentence, I bumped into something.. someone.

"What are you doing here?" I heard Sarah‘s voice asking in disgust. My eyes wandered over the body I just crashed into, slowly upwards to the chest, then his neck and jawline. "Like watcha seeing, doll?" The voice sent shivers down my skin but the face put a slight scowl onto mine.

There was alway some kind of friction between me and Rafe but I always chose to push the little tingling in my stomach away when he smirked at me or when I felt his eyes lingering on my legs while walking in the heat of the island.

I always thought it wouldn‘t make any sense. First of all he‘s my best friend's brother and second of all the definition of trouble. And I think I had enough of that this year. Oh, and besides the fact, that he's the 'enemy' how the Pogues like to call him.

I just then noticed his hand on my hip, probably from crashing into me and stoppIng me from falling onto my ass. " Well I would If it wasn‘t for the unmatching character showing through your words." We always did this. Throwing a bait and wait for the other one to bite back.

"Hmm, why‘s that even you have such a sweet mouth, there are only so nasty words coming out of it?"

My cheeks turned red just the slightest bit and I rolled my eyes to conceal the effect his words had on me. "Let‘s go." I murmured to Sarah and John B, letting Rafe stand there with a smug grin on his face and his eyes laying shamelessly on my ass as I walked away.

As we arrived at the bar, we ordered drinks for the whole group. "I'll bring them to your table." One of the bar girls told us while writing down our order and then smiling sweetly at us. "Thanks." Sarah and I answered smiling back, John B giving her a polite nod, then walking back with us to our table. We were seated on a rooftop, right in front of the railing so we could see the fireworks at midnight.

Unaware of anything, Sarah pulled me back before I could walk back outside. I turned my head towards her with a confused look on my face when I saw her giving John B a look that told him to let us be alone. "What's wrong?" I asked her.

"I'm meaning this seriously, y/n. We really love JJ as a friend but as a boyfriend? When we say you deserve better, we mean you are selling yourself off way below your value and yes maybe he's gonna catch himself and get the stick out of his ass but do you really want to wait for that to eventually happen?"

I was taken aback by her words but not because they were cruel or mean but because they were true. I ran a hand through my hair and slightly pulled at my roots, trying to release some stress. "I get it, but what do you want me to do? Break up because he's acting off for two weeks?" She shook her head. "No, maybe don't break up but don't try to do everything right and nicely and just in the right tone so he won't get mad. Show him he can't treat you like that. I mean come on, even my brother is giving you more attention." She twisted her face a little at the end of her speech, looking over my shoulder and seeing her brother looking right back at us like a hawk.

Another deep breath ran through my lungs and back out of my mouth. "Alright, will do that." She smiled at me and took my hand. "Now come on before we miss midnight." I giggled and walked back with her, sitting back down between Kiara and JJ just when the waitress came with our drinks. Everyone smiled at her and thanked her expect JJ.

I rolled my eyes at his behavior, especially since he's always the one who complains about the kooks treating service people like trash. "What's with the eye-roll?" He snapped at me. "What's with your attitude?" I snapped right back, remembering Sarah's words. I didn't want to fight but I also wasn't in the mood to always nod and smile back as soon as he was acting like a bitch.

"Maybe it's just you." I gasped at his words and looked at him with wide eyes. "JJ..come on man." John B sighed and shook his head at his best friend. "What? Maybe it is her. Always complaining and shit. Can't I be in a bad mood sometimes?" I scoffed at his words and had to held back my laughter. "Sometimes? It's been like that for the last two weeks!" "Okay then fuck off If you can't live with it!"

The table went silent and everyone looked at him in shock. Without a word I took my purse and stood up from the couch we sat on. I pushed myself past him and the rest. "Y/n wait.." Sarah rushed but I turned around and looked at her. "No it's okay because indeed I can't live with this shit. I do deserve better. Enjoy midnight, please. I'm just going inside."

I gave her a small smile at the end, meaning it. I didn't want them to follow me. I wanted them to enjoy this moment. I got back inside and down the spiral stairs we came through an hour ago. I pushed through the doors as I crossed the hall, past the security's.

As soon as my heels hit the ground, I took them off and walked down to the beach where all the people responsible for the firework worked on it.

I took a look at my watch and saw new year was only a minute away. I rushed further down the beach, a little bit away from the firework but near enough to enjoy it. I was able to see the rooftop from here, guessing they were able to see me too. "There goes my midnight kiss.." I sighed to myself, looking over the ocean, the waves silently crushing against the shore.

"Depends on who you're hoping for." A deep voice followed my thoughts. My head spun around in surprise. "Rafe?!" There he stood almost right in front of me now. He came closer and looked at me like I was some kind of pray and about to run away. "What are you doing here?" "Could ask you the same. Letting your boyfriend treat you like shit again?"

Then I heard the people from the club screaming the countdown down from 10.

I turned back around, my back towards him. "What do you know." I scoffed, not really asking. Suddenly his voice was right beside my ear and I could feel the warmth radiating off his body onto mine. "I know that I would never treat you like he does. I would read every wish right off your lips, doll."

Before I could answer him he grabbed my hips and spun me back around, my front crushing against his for the second time today with my hands landing on his chest. I looked up into his ocean eyes, feeling myself drowning in them like I do every time I look at them.

"3...2...1... happy new year!"

And out of nowhere, I got my first new year's kiss. My lips crashed against his and while his eyes were closed, mine were ripped open in shock.

His hands wandered over my waist und pulled my body even tighter against his, my hands now slowly gliding over his chest and my eyes falling shut. One of his hands found their way to my face, laying on my right cheek. He cheekily but softly bit my bottom lip, my lips parted with a little gasp. He took his chance and slipped his tongue right into my warm and desperate mouth, groaning when he felt the tip of my tongue on his.

„Fuck..“ he growled, pressing me even harder against him if that was even possible. I moaned right back into his mouth before I pulled away just the slightest bit to lick his bottom lip and softly nibbling on it with my teeth in a teasing way.

It was like I forgot the whole world around me in that exact moment. I didn't remember JJ and me fighting. Damn I didn't even remembered JJ himself for a moment. My fingers grabbed his shirt, the need to feel him as close as possible slowly taking over me.

A little gasp, almost inaudible left his throath, his cheeks heating up just like mine.

We were so into it we didn‘t eve notice the whole group, also including Toppr and Kelce catching up with us after a few minutes. Sarah gasped loudly with big eyes and her jaw almost falling to the sand. "Oh my-" "what the fuck!" I heard JJ screaming.

I opened my eyes but didn‘t pull away. I saw Rafe lifting his arm behind me, not seeing the middle finger he showed JJ but I definetly felt the little smirk against my skin.

"Looks like you didn‘t took your chance.." Kiara giggled, earning a glare from JJ while Kelce and Topper clapped their hands and cheered loudly for Rafe.

Maybe the new year really is going to be a better one than the last one.

taglist: @supernaturaldawning @cardi-bre91 @aegonsslxt @juliet-017 @whyamireadingthis @gxdsfavgal @synicaljah @tiaajosephin

thank you guys for reading, let me know If you liked it 💌

xoxo sarah <3

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

He wasn’t the main point but I can’t stop thinking about Steve in ‘three times’, like what a man. Just hard, quick, decisive with just enough tenderness somewhere in all that loyalty. Is he lonely at all? Like, who does he have to love on? I’d gladly volunteer. Beautiful story and writing!

a/n: oh oh oh! SAAAAMMMEE! i tell you, when i was writing that fic, i kept on catching myself drooling over steve (lol as you can tell by the big part he played in the story) and had to snap myself out of it all the time because it wasn't a steve fic. but yes yes yeesss, i did think about who he has to love on hehe, let me share the thoughts ৎ୭

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i think his girl would be just the sweetest little cinnamon roll ever

maybe you started working at the cafe near his home, just part-time while you’re finishing a degree

he was already a regular there, so when you started working there, not long passed before, a) you developed a huge crush on him, and b) since he came in there all the time, his usual order became almost imprinted on your brain since it was one of the few sentences you heard him utter that your heart clung onto

so the first time that you finished his sentence with the correct kind of coffee, that was the moment that snapped him out of his usual mundane haze and forced him to truly notice you for the first time.

and before he knew it, he had fallen into a legitimate relationship with you, more serious than any other he'd let himself experience.

it's very too sweet by hozier coded... because you truly are too sweet, too pure, too good for him... but that's also why he can't get himself to stop...

he keeps on telling himself that he needs to cut off ties to you, that you deserve better and that this can only end one way, with you getting hurt. but every time he tries, he just has to look into your eyes and the words crumble from his lips like they never existed at all.

and also, the last thing he wants for you to know is the kind of man he really is and the blood he has on his hands.

but when he’s with you, he isn't a dangerous mobster. he can just pretend that he's something else, just a regular guy like the one you believe he is. when he's with you, he can step into the world where everything is good, where wishes come true and it's borderline a fairytale compared to his reality.

he could never tell you the truth about who he is because at best it would just scare you, but at worst, it could potentially get you into trouble that you of all people don't deserve.

so he keeps it a secret.

even if the excuses he fumbles to come up with aren't always that great, you still haven't found out.

he'd rather you think that he is a klutz who gets into minor accidents and hurts himself all the time than have you know about how he really gets banged up too often to count.

he'd also rather have you think that he's an asshole for showing up late or not at all, than you knowing what grim truths had kept him.

maybe one day he does tell you everything and he spends the rest of his days protecting you and keeping you a secret from everyone in his world...

or maybe he doesn't. maybe he finds a way to do the impossible and get out of the life, but only for his past to catch up to him years down the line and blow up the perfect little white picket life you'd built together...

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble  

[anassemblageofpassions]

I think what really fucking gets me how is how a lot of yall don’t even TRY to consider who Elphaba is outside of her relationship to Glinda.

Because like. You don’t have to ship fiyeraba. But to not even consider how important he is to Elphaba, what he means to her and how important it is that he loves her and she loves him. To bemoan how Elphaba and glinda don’t end up together while somehow not getting that glinda treated Elphaba like garbage so of course she wasn’t going to end up with her. Note how Fiyero and elphaba are the only couple in the show to not be saying they “deserve each other” because they’re the only ones that actually DO. You’re allowed to have preferences but to say that Fiyero is irrelevant and to deny his love for elphaba is just. Wrong. Fiyero drives a lot of act two and for a good reason. Fiyero is a foil to glinda because he was willing to do for Elphaba what she wasn’t, and she suffers for that forever.

Obviously he’s not perfect in this situation. But what he did to glinda did not warrant the disgusting response she gave, to try to help them kidnap Elphaba by hitting her where it hurts. Glinda signed nessas death warrant and she signed fiyeros and Elphaba’s too, and she knows it. She knows that it’s all her fault, and that’s why she can’t end up with elphaba. Because she has to fix the mess she aided and abetted, and the only thing that would motivate her to do that was the deaths of the two people she loves the most. She didn’t intend for any of this. But actions matter. And that’s the tragedy of it all and that’s what makes her such a well written character, that’s what makes all of them so well written. Fiyero does suffer from the breakneck pace of the musical, but the substance of him is there. I think it does a disservice to glindas character to rob her of her autonomy and try to eliminate everyone else important to elphabas significance in the story, particularly Fiyeros. This is elphabas story. Fiyero is there for a reason, because she needs something good. She needs someone who is willing to give up everything for her the way she is willing to give up everything for everyone.

[vviolets444rroses]

real man.

pairing: rafe cameron x female reader

warnings: n/a, fluff, not proofread

summary: telling rafe about your ex who could never be a real man! 🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️

wc: 790

a/n: i haven't written a fic in such a long time, so forgive me if it's lowkey ass. i've never posted a fic on tumblr; i am highly intimidated LOL. also this is just the way i portray rafe. if you've read the hcs i posted, the rafe i write is NOT a killer, but he's definitely confident/secure in himself and sweet. like/reblog if you want more or if i should continue this plot <3

inspo: real man by beabadoobee 💌

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

it's been an awfully long night. you closed your front door on your ex-boyfriend after you guys exchanged stuff left at one another's places. you broke up with him a few weeks prior. you had hope for the guy, but deep down you knew he'd never be right for you. he was simply a child trapped in a grown man's body. he didn't know how to do his own laundry, hesitated to pay for dates he asked you on, and made impulsive decisions that hurt you.

i mean, the guy had you complaining to your mom about the stupid things he'd do. you usually went to your friends about this, but mom had to hear about it too. the pogues warned you- oh how sarah couldn't wait to say i told you so in your face. i mean, you did try with him, giving him chances after chances that he didn't deserve. but what can you do?

*ding* a text from rafe cameron "i'm outside, let me in."

you walked over to the front door and unlocked it, pulling the giant door inward. peeping your head out and there was rafe; holding a pizza box and a paper bag.

"hey... sarah told me." he cleared his throat. nodding awkwardly, you moved aside to welcome him in. he walked past you and went into the kitchen, placing the food down.

"you-uh, you okay?" he leaned against the kitchen island with his arms crossed. going over to sit at the stool by him, you shrug with a faint smile on your lips. "he was an asshole. you know that. i'm not surprised since i met him at one of your house parties," you look up at him as he chuckles, brushing his thumb over his lip. "oh yeah, those guys are something. sorry about the breakup though."

"sorry? rafe, you and i both know he had it coming. he was..." you pause and make a face, raising your brows and chuckling. "he wasn't as into our relationship like i was. no one ever taught him how to be a real man. that's not my problem. i'm not looking for a situationship."

rafe coming over to comfort you over a breakup was something you'd never expected. especially since you two weren't particularly close like that. you did consider him as a friend, but if anyone asked, he was just your best friend's older brother. you were clueless, but he was drawn to you. he has been ever since sarah introduced you to him as her friend.

he turns on his heels to face you and taps the counter. "i've known you a long time, *name*. you're good people. always have been." he gives you a slight smile. he puts his head in his hand, "but 100%. you deserve better. or a real man as you put it."

you hadn't any idea what to say to that. the way he looked at you was weird. well, not weird. unfamiliar. was it unfamiliar or did you never notice he looked at you like how you looked at perfect waves on a beach? a silence hits after he speaks. you just kind of sat there dumbfounded. after a few good seconds, you found the words to say. "thank you. sorry- i didn't know you were such a heartfelt guy." you teased, pushing his shoulder. rafe clears his throat, "but uh, yeah." he puts his hands up and uses them to point and show off the pizza. "i brought you your favorite. thin crust pepperoni. and cheesy breadsticks." "wanna stay a little to eat with me? we can watch a movie." "oh yeah sure." he replied nonchalantly, although he'd been hoping you'd ask ever since he stepped inside. the both of you walk over to the living room and turn the tv on. he places the box and bag on the center table and relaxes into the couch. he clicks on the conjuring and pressing play. you glare at him. you hated horror movies. he knew this, but he pretended he forgot. "just watch it. you're fine. you got a real man with you," he jokes. "fine but are all of you cameron siblings this evil?" you say as you grab a slice of pizza and a breadstick. "cmon you know you love me, sweetheart." he chuckles, leaning back as he ate a pizza too. you tossed the blanket over the both of you and swallowed your fear. even though you did close your eyes every five seconds or burying your face into rafe's shoulder. i hate you, rafe- you repeated the entire time, but he smiled, happy you were close to him like this. rafe just hoped he'd be the real man you were longing for.

[triptychcryptid]

Okay, like my idea for Filbrick in the Boys going back to the 60's AU is after he sees what Bill is and has done, he kinda sits back and looks at himself and what he did to put his sons in that situation. I'm not going to say that he fully comes around, because that's not realistic. He would still mostly think that what he did was justified and that his actions were for a reason and made his kids stronger, or at least that he was a better father than his own (which sadly is true), but he would be willing to listen to his kids now. Try to get to know them a LITTLE bit. Unfortunately, his adult children hate him and his little children are scared of him. So first he tries talking to little Stans through the radio and freaks them out. They go running to their Mom saying something about a voice talking to them in the radio. The older boys go investigate and they hear a crackly "Hello?....Boys?" The Grunks and Sherman all stare at eachother for a minute, then Sherman goes

"Filbrick?" The voice turns angry

"Sherman, why the hell are you callin' me Filbrick?! I am your father, you do not address me by my first name! Show some respect!" Sherman would cross his arms and raise an eyebrow.

"Respect is earned, not given, Dickhead. You were never a father to us, and you don't deserve that title. So unless you decide to posthumously become Father of the Year, you either get Filbrick or Asshole. Pick your poison. " Stan and Ford both look at Sherman in awe and pride.

The radio starts shaking in anger, causing Stan and Ford to both jump up, ready for a fight. Sherman just keeps sitting, arms crossed. "Quit throwing a tantrum. What are you, two? I'm LITERALLY two right now and I'm better behaved than you. Grow the hell up and knock it off, or I'll break out the seals I learned from my wife. They're pretty nasty."

The radio settles down slowly, but Filbrick leaves it and floats off to mope. XD Ford looks at Sherman. "Linda knows demonic seals? I might have to pick her brain. Her knowledge could be very useful."

"Yeah, sure, if we ever get Back to the Future, you can ask." Stan rolls his eyes and groans at the joke, but smirks, Ford laughs and Sherman grins at them.

[pet-genius]

I don't feel that I need to be excused for not reading through a lens I don't possess. I was bullied only mildly (and the adults insisted that it was because the other kids were jealous which lol, but just goes to show you how these dynamics are viewed in different societies), and other aspects of the character were and remain more compelling to me. I am grateful, though, for my access to the fandom that gave me this new lens, and this new awareness. It's a great example of fiction and fandom making people better, and I can only hope I contributed from my own life experience over the years.

In Dumbledore's defense, most people, even most James-like people, *don't* end up mass murderers, cult leaders and dictators. Dumbledore treated these things as warning signs in retrospect, I like to think, because, well. They were. I have it on good authority that young Tom's behavior is a very realistic portrayal. Not the thievery and the 'tude (ffs, I shoplifted and had a 'tude, where's my cult huh), but other things that I forgot because I'm not myself that very good authority, but I'll try to think on what they were later.

Dumbledore also might have manipulated Harry using James's memory, but he never made excuses for James's behavior to Harry when the real James was discussed, that I recall. Easily, Dumbledore is the biggest culprit in the debacle with the attempted murder, and the Blacks' clout might very well be relevant here, but he, and by extension the author, did not present it as the "ought".

I have my own speculations about JKR but they're frankly not interesting 😂. I've yet to come across media that seeks to both entertain, educate, and be Art, and accomplishes all three all the time. It's a failure on the readers' part imo to come away with "Snape deserved it" as the point of that whole thing. Not hers.

Do you realise James Potter is fifteen (15) years old.

Yes, and I don’t know, I had rich friends who were raised with a lot of care, and they were 15 years old, and they didn’t go around undressing people in the schoolyard, acting like pompous assholes, or attacking people out of boredom. I was also 15 when I joined the Communist Youth and started getting politically involved, and one of the things we did was volunteer at food banks or help in neighborhood associations in troubled areas. I mean, being 15 maybe excuse you for being an idiot, but it doesn’t excuse you for being a sociopathic abuser, you know? That’s why we have juvenile centers and take that kind of guys to court when they cross the line 😘.