#They are so different yet I love them both

[pneumosia]

❝BENEATH THE VEIL OF SEPARATION.❞ ── ☼ rin itoshi﹕ ブルーロック › blue lock

syn ✧ having rin reappear in your life on a random friday was not what you were expecting. what starts as reluctance turns into a moment of vulnerability as old feelings resurface.

imaginarium theatre masterlist. ┆ general masterlist.

info log ﹕ fic tags rin itoshi / gn! reader. imaginarium theatre request no. 7 made by @reocidal. rin + retrouvaille + fluff. kiss scene. lots of banter. reader has a younger cousin. ➜ word count : 2.3k

love, ieva ❤︎ officially the first time writing for rin, i hope i didn’t make him too ooc 😓 also new formatting !! tiny bit of hurt/comfort if u squint bc i almost got carried away

Rin Itoshi wasn’t used to stopping. His life was a blur of precision: drills, matches, accolades. Yet here he was, holding a cup of lukewarm black coffee—and seated in one of the back tables. He sat next to a window, his hood drawn low. The cafe he was in was bustling with noise that began to grate on his nerves.. He scowled before pushing a pair of ear plugs into his ears, hoping to muffle the sounds of chatter between friends, parents with overly obnoxious children, and the relentless ding of the bell that rang whenever someone entered. He stared at his phone, checking match statistics, formations, strategies.

About a few blocks away, was a soccer field, usually an eyesore in his peripheral vision. It was the kind of place amateurs and children gravitate to—a world far out of his reach. Something so mediocre could never catch his attention, until he spotted a familiar figure walk past—his glance following them through the window. He blinked again, as if the act might scatter his vision and reveal a different image that was once buried in fog. But no, there you were—with an eager child tugging your hand while pointing towards the field.

Without thinking, he was on his feet, the coffee forgotten as he pushed open the cafe door. He could see the back of your head clearly, and the child beside you was practically begging to be taken to the field. How could you ever refuse? He watched as you smiled, radiant and full of life you were—just as you were back then. He could already hear your coos, a sign that you were giving into the child’s pleas.

“I want to go there! Can we? Please? Just for a little while?”

You glanced at the apple of your cousin’s eye—a small field, granted it was usually occupied by children, but the white markings reminded you of someone else. Someone you’d rather not name. Reluctantly, you clutched the little one’s hand tighter, looking both ways before crossing the street—unaware that Rin was dragging his feet across the road behind you.

When you approached the patches of uneven grass, marked with faded white lines—the little boy wasted no time before darting off towards the center, the atmosphere welcoming the young life—a playground meant just for him. Behind you, the faint sound of footsteps—deliberate yet hesitant, alerted your senses. You turn around just in time to catch a glimpse of Rin retreating, his hood low and his body angled as if he were preparing to bolt out of there. You blinked, caught off guard by the sight of someone so deeply tied to the past that you thought you’d never relive.

Your relationship had been at a standstill for so long, so the moment he vanished from your life—you never imagined him returning, much less in these circumstances.

A part of you had been craving this interaction, while the other wished to bury him with the past altogether. A time capsule never to be reopened.

“Rin?” the name left your lips before you could stop it, and his retreat faltered. His lips formed a small frown, and he let out a sigh in response.

He knew he should’ve left when he had the chance.

“I wasn’t..” he trailed off, knowing coming up with an excuse now would be futile.

Instead, his eyes darted towards the child running circles around the field—two children behind him as if they were playing a game of tag. “Is that your kid?” he asked bluntly, anything to avoid the spotlight being on his failed retreat.

You raised an eyebrow at his question. “What? No—of course not!” you quickly retorted. Regardless of his motive, he should’ve realized how bizarre his blunt question sounded.

“Then?” he questioned further.

“That’s my cousin, I'm too young to have kids!” you retorted, crossing your arms in a manner that told him that his question must’ve been a stupid one.

“The second he saw this field, he immediately wanted to come and play.” you continued, hesitantly.

His hands stuffed themselves in his pockets, his gaze flickering between you and the child you claimed as your cousin. “I didn’t mean to— I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“And yet, you are.” you said, an amused smile tugging at your lips. “Following me?”

He spluttered before the heat trailed to the tips of his ears. “Not… Not a chance, you’re delusional.”

You only continued to stare him down, as if waiting for him to admit to it. “You sure? I find it pretty odd that this is purely a coincidence.”

“But it’s not impossible.” he commented before rolling his eyes.

“Well,” you said, your tone light but your eyes began searching his face. “Since you’re here, you might as well greet me properly. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

Rin hesitated. It had been a while—more than a while—it had been an eternity. Yet, here you were, standing in front of him as if no time had passed at all. As if you were the same people, in a bubble of bright smiles and laughter that could cause tears from euphoria.

“Yeah,” he said finally, his voice quieter than you remembered. “It has.”

He wasn’t sure what to do. He followed you all the way here, for what? He couldn’t let this be their last interaction, not when he had so many words bottled up and stuck in his throat.

Before he could manage to speak up, the child appeared in front of him once more—glimmering eyes full of hope and a newfound joy for the sport. “Hey! Do you guys wanna come play with us?”

You pretended to think about the offer, a hand under your chin and an amused smirk adorning your features. You couldn’t say no to him. The little guy had you wrapped around his finger, but you didn’t mind—not if it meant that the smile on his fact would remain in place for as long as possible.

Rin, on the other hand, was absolutely dreading this interaction. On one hand, he knew he didn’t want to participate in this child’s antics, but he knew he couldn’t be rude about it. Instead of voicing his feelings, he opted to shake his head. The equivalent of a simple “no thanks.”

You quietly nudged his arm, trying to get the message across that the little one wouldn’t be able to take no for an answer. He grumbled in response, In a state of reluctance, he finally agreed before being dragged away by the tiny hand—with a promise that he’d definitely enjoy himself.

Of course, the little boy had absolutely no idea how to maneuver a soccer ball—looking up at Rin, he silently pleaded for him to teach him how to play correctly. The most he could manage was simply kicking the ball around and hoping it makes it into the opposite goal. It reminded Rin of his naivety when he was the little boy’s age. Rounded teal eyes filled with tears whenever he wasn’t able to move the ball around the way he wanted, and he had to rely on Sae for assistance.

The thought makes him shake his head in annoyance. At the moment, his brother was utterly irrelevant to the conversation. Right now, all he could do was scoff and put the heel of his foot on the ball—eyeing the child to make sure he was watching. “Just follow my steps, alright?”

To say your cousin was excited would be an understatement, he eagerly kept his eyes glued to the striker—furrowed brows that showcased his concentration.

“It’s about control, not strength. Where do you want to kick the ball?” he asked, as the child pointed forward—so Rin kicked the ball in that direction. “Now you try.”

The child mimicked his movements as best he could, earning a hum of approval. His expression remained unreadable, but the slight lift of his chin gave him away—he was slightly pleased. For the next hour or so, the two focused on simple ball passing and aiming, all the way until the little guy scored his first goal. The majority of the children were beginning to get pulled away from the field by their parents, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Rin’s way of teaching. Though his personality wouldn’t make for a good teacher, he was considerate of the child’s age and connection to you. And that, for you, was enough.

“I told you we’d have fun!”

“…Sure.”

“That wasn’t a no.”

The dumbfounded expression on Rin’s face was enough to earn a chuckle out of you, before you stepped forward to grab your cousin’s hand—a clear sign it was time to go home. Luckily, he didn’t make a fuss about it, tired out from the drills he and Rin had to do.

Later on, when it was just the two of them—you were unsure of what to say. The sky dimmed and night was fast approaching, but you didn’t have the urge to go home yet, at least—not without talking to him first. “You tolerated that more than I expected you to.”

“What? It was either I helped him or he’d start crying, and frankly the latter sounds worse.”

“Uh huh, you’re not going home?” you inquired, fiddling with your fingers as you waited for an answer. You honestly believed he was going to simply walk away, maybe even retort with a sassy remark to spite you.

“I could ask you the same, it seems like we still have something to talk about.”

Or so you thought.

A few beats of silence passed before you let out a sigh. “Can’t you just admit that you missed me so we can skip the awkward reconciliation stage?”

Confrontation was clearly not one of your strong suits, judging by how his eyebrows furrowed and how he crossed his arms—staring at you with pure judgment in his eyes.

“Get real.”

“You get real, c’mon. I’m waiting.”

He groans, stepping closer before eyeing you down. “What makes you think I missed you?”

“The fact that you followed me to the field maybe? You could’ve ignored me, and gone in the opposite direction.”

You had him right where you wanted him.

He didn’t have an answer, did he?

(Maybe you were delusional.)

Rin’s silence stretched, his teal eyes narrowing as he searched for a retort—something sharp to cut through your confidence. But for once, he didn’t have one. His arms dropped to his sides, and for a brief moment, his face softened, though he quickly masked it with an annoyed scoff. He wouldn’t admit that he followed you on a whim (that he missed you, more than you’ll ever know.)

That he regrets leaving things where they were without telling you the truth.

“You’re imagining things,” he muttered, stepping back slightly. “I didn’t follow you—I just didn’t have anything better to do.”

(Excuses, but what else was he supposed to do?)

“Right,” you said, leaning closer with a teasing grin, masking the slight ache in your chest at the thought that it was just coincidence. “Because spending an hour with my cousin and me was totally your idea of a thrilling Friday night.”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t step away this time. “You’re annoying.”

“And yet here you are,” you quipped, your voice gentler now. “Why won’t you just admit it, Rin? You missed me. It’s okay, I won’t hold it against you.”

(Unless i’ve been making a full of myself this entire time, chasing after someone who wants nothing to do with me.)

His gaze snapped back to yours, something unreadable flickering in his expression. “You’re so full of yourself.”

He was cracking, slowly yet surely, in a manner you wouldn’t have expected. You couldn’t read him, or even tell what he was feeling.

(Rin never opens up easily, he learned how to seal the cracks as quickly as they’re made—as daunting as such a skill is—it infuriated you to no end. Even before, he wouldn’t admit that he liked you. For someone so proud, he was faltering in one way or another.)

“And you’re deflecting,” you countered softly. Your teasing tone was gone now, replaced by a quiet sincerity. “You could’ve ignored me. You could’ve left after the game. But you didn’t. You stayed.”

Rin looked away, his jaw tightening as he shoved his hands into his pockets. The breeze ruffled his dark hair as the last remnants of sunlight faded into the horizon. “…Maybe I didn’t want to.”

(There it was, the last piece.)

It was barely above a whisper, but you heard it. Your chest tightened, a warmth spreading through you. “What was that?” you asked, though your heart was already racing.

“Don’t push it,” he muttered, but his voice lacked the usual bite. Instead, he shifted closer, his shoulders tense, as though he was debating something. His eyes met yours again, piercing but hesitant.

You took a small step forward, tilting your head. “You’re so bad at this, you know? I should just—”

Before you could finish, Rin leaned down and captured your lips in a quick, almost clumsy kiss. It was brief but enough to silence your words and steal your breath. When he pulled back, his face was flushed, and his expression was a mixture of defiance and embarrassment.

“There. Happy?” he asked, his voice low, his confidence cracking just slightly at the edges. It was just what you’ve been waiting for. It felt almost surreal, the tips of his ears were practically burning.

You blinked, your lips still tingling from the unexpected kiss. A wide grin spread across your face. “No, I'm imagining things, delusional even.”

Bouncing his own words back, how comical. But he could only roll his eyes. He knows you’ve won.

(You held back a sigh of relief, he didn’t forget.)

“Don’t push your luck,” he mumbled, turning away, but the faintest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

You laughed softly, grabbing his wrist before he could walk off completely. “Alright, alright. I’ll stop teasing—for now.”

The night air felt lighter as the two of you stood there, the tension melting into something softer. Neither of you had to say it, but in that moment, it was clear: whatever distance had been between you before was finally gone.

taglist 🔔 : @papiliotao @starcharmed @snobwhimsicality @bladism @tragedy-of-commons @wystiix @arquistes @thestarswhisper @somatchajade @gl4di0lus @milk-violet @aphrodict @mikashisus

[gracie-eilish]

soft kissing hour

summary: billie comes home in the middle of the night (softly) interrupting your peaceful snooze☁️✨

an: i think i’m liking writing soft/fluffy fics more than spicy or smut but who knows! this is only the beginning lol!

an: i’m in love with this song. it’s perfect. no one can tell me otherwise.

just the feeling of seeing your home in front of her brought an overwhelming sense of peace to billie. she had been on the road for weeks now and couldn’t wait to spend some time off. seeing friends, family, and most importantly, you.

she carefully grabbed her suitcase out of the trunk, locking the car up before heading inside. naturally, her beloved (not so small) puppies greeted her right at the door with kisses, having missed their mama.

“hi guys!” she whispered, giggling in between puppy kisses, “i missed you too.” she peppered both with kisses of their own before standing back up.

“where’s mama?” she asked as the puppies looked up at her with wide eyes before scampering down the hall towards the stairs.

she grabbed her bag and followed the pups, now wagging their tails and running up the stairs. she chuckled softly as they stopped in front of your shared bedroom door, looking at her with pride as if to say “we did it! we found mama!”

billie softly pushed the door open, finding the most peaceful scene. the balcony doors were open a bit letting the ocean air waft in, the sounds of the waves making everything feel dreamy. the little sunset lamp on the dresser casting a soft pink hue across the room, you’d always hated the bright white light of the overhead lamp. but finally, there was you.

tucked under a mountain of blankets, you were fast asleep cuddled up in one of billie hoodies, naturally. you had always been a pretty sleeper, something billie was jokingly envious of. you could fall asleep anywhere and look perfect.

she set her suitcase down by the door and slid off her black boots, before making her way over to the bed. she perched herself on the edge, not wanting to wake you just yet. some may find it creepy but she loved admiring you while you slept. you were so peaceful that she couldn’t help it. the way your hair cascaded over your shoulder and the pillow, you long lashes fluttering over your cheeks, the teensy hidden freckles on the top of your cheeks- only someone looking close could find them. she even chuckled softly at the teardrop marks on you pillowcase. your eyes watered when you yawned making your pillows look like you cried all night. a trait billie had to get used to, reminding herself you weren’t crying, just sleepy. your nose was twinged pink from the january air wafting through the door.

billie softly pushed some hair behind your ear before leaning in to press a soft kiss to your cheeks. she pulled away after a second, noticing a familiar smell. you’d always been partial to eilish no. 1, her first fragrance. the vanilla and chocolate blend suiting you perfectly. but billie smelt something different today. there was no hint of vanilla or even one of your floral perfumes you sometimes sprayed on during the day. you smelled like.. well.. billie. maybe it was billie’s hoodie cradling your body under the sheets, maybe not. billie smiled softly at the realization.

she gave you another kiss on your forehead before she retreated to the connected bathroom, needing to wash off the airport feel.

☁️🌌💤✨

you woke softly to the sound of the running shower and the padding of billie moving around in there. a soft smile broke out on your face as the water shut off signaling billie would be done soon. as she dried off she was humming a soft tune, nothing specific, just a soft rhythm strung together bouncing off the tile, sounding echoey and angelic and regardless.

the door opening caught your attention again, the bright light of the bathroom quickly disappearing as billie shut it back off. noticing you were awake now, she softly made her way to your bed.

“hi love bug” she whispered, peppering kisses to your cheeks again, making you giggle a bit.

“you’re home!” you mumbled sleepily but happy.

“yeah baby, i’m home” she sighed happily, holding your cheek.

“c’mere. i missed you” you whined, grabbing at her hands to pull her into your bed.

the second she flopped onto her side of the bed she couldn’t resist, pulling you in by your waist and finally kissing you. so softly but so passionately, as if to say, “i don’t want to disturb your peace, but i just want to say i love you.”

the two of you giggled in between kisses, just happy to be together again after so long.

as billie pulled away she chuckled, “you taste like peppermint.”

you feigned offense shooting back, “just because christmas is over doesn’t mean peppermint is. in fact peppermint everything is 50% at the store babe so get used to it.” billie just laughed and kissed you again, adoring your little antics.

“this really is just your world that i’m living in isn’t it?” she replied, raising her eyebrows and propping herself up on one elbow. you just nodded cheekily knowing you had billie wrapped around your finger.

she glanced over at the little clock on your nightstand, a bright blue 1:58 blinking back at her. she leaned in to kiss your forehead before whispering, “alright, go back to sleep my love. i’ll be here when you wake up.”

you just nuzzled yourself further into her arms before mumbling a fake groan, “okay. i love you.” and pressing a kiss to her collarbone.

she kissed your cheek before whispering, “i love you. i’m not going anywhere. don’t worry. i’m right here.”

with sleepy smiles and overflowing hearts, the two of you tangled yourselves together, falling asleep in each others arms with the ocean waves and puppies snoring as your soundtrack… and billie humming that silly little tune again before drifting off herself:)

💤☁️🫧

an: i feel like this is kinda similar to my “softness” post but what can i say, im a sucker for soft billie. i hope you like it!! (i hope my easter eggs weren’t hidden too far👀 im trained by miss swift herself on easter eggs so keep your eyes peeled for potentially more easter eggs in stories to come:)

also ik her dogs are far from puppies, i just call all dogs puppies because that’s what they are in my eyes!🐶🥹

and thanks for the followers!🥹 that’s like so sweet of you! anyways, love you so much!! sweet dreams babies☁️❤️

[therandomfandomme]

We're all going feral over the whole "Mercy? Mercy?" which is so valid of us, but the way mercy comes back as a theme in this final saga is really interesting to me, because before this, Odysseus is asked for mercy, for forgiveness:

"Old king, our leader is dead

You've destroyed the serpent's head

Now the rest of us are no longer a threat

Old king, forgive us instead

So that no more blood is shed

Let's have open arms instead"

"No"

He has become Poseidon, the one that first forced him into believing that mercy isn't something he can afford ("Look what you turned me into"), which is made doubly poignant with Eurymachus echoing the open arms of Polites ("Greet the world with open arms"). Now I'm not saying he should have forgiven the suitors for what they were planning on doing, however, this interaction directly informs this one later:

"Throw down those weapons

And I ensure you'll be spared"

"After seeing what the king will do to us

We wouldn't dare"

Because Odysseus doesn't show mercy to Eurymachus, Melanthius doesn't want to take the risk when Telemachus extends mercy to them, which then leads to the starting interaction.

When extending mercy and creating a kinder world is discussed again, it's by Athena. She is the original god, who pushed him towards a lack of mercy, who found that a warrior of the mind is one that showed not mercy and Odysseus believed her during the war, even threw a baby of a roof about it, and it wasn't until after that he rebelled her teachings only to be forced into it by other gods (Poseidon and Zeus most specifically). To which this is said:

"If that world exists, it's far away from here

It's one I'll have to miss, for it's far beyond my years

You might live forever, so you can make it be

But I've got one endeavor, there's a girl I have to see"

"Very well"

"Father, she's waiting for you"

I especially want to highlight that Odysseus says it is beyond his years. He has become that monster and he can't undo that in the years he still has. If this is to happen, then it must be the future generations that Athena has to influence to make that world. Having her reply to that getting interrupted by Telemachus is very purposeful to me. Because he does still extend mercy, he is the new warrior she trained and she trained him differently because her belief changed.

But I also think having her show Odysseus her face with the lightning scar as she agrees is very telling. When she pushed Odysseus to be ruthless she had not been on the other end of no mercy, which is what makes Odysseus turn against her ("Unlikе you, every time someone dies I'm left to deal with the strain"). She now has been on the other side of it by the hands of someone Odysseus also faced and they were both shown the same lack of mercy. For Odysseus that was his final turning point where he chose no mercy, while Athena did chose mercy.

And in the end, she did get some mercy from Zeus in response from it. Zeus also learned from her, from the lesson Odysseus taught her, which was taught to him by Polites. And that mercy gets paid forward allowing Odysseus to get home (yes, I'm emotional about Polites helping Odysseus get home in the end). Almost every time mercy is shown, his journey progresses (Lotus eaters, Aeolous, Circe, Zeus).

Athena has been through not receiving mercy, but she still believes, is still working towards that future. And while she accepts Odysseus words about him being beyond such a world, she doesn't agree with him. Her reply feels more like accepting a dismissal rather than an agreement. And Telemachus shows up as a reminder that she is more correct than Odysseus in this, and he leads them into Penelope.

God, I love Penelope. With her, Odysseus tells someone yet again that he has changed ("I am not your kind and gentle husband") and that he would understand if she did not love him anymore. And then we get this banger:

"Only my husband knew that

So I guess that makes him you"

Penelope shows him mercy in this. She has asked him what he has done and she is given the option to not want him anymore after hearing about the monster he's turned into, but she doesn't. She forgives him. He asks for forgiveness and she grants it. That is mercy.

Not only that, but she also affirms that he is still him. The usage of husband here is important to me, because he says he's not her husband, who was gentle and kind, and she tells him that he is. He believes him beyond that world where people are empathetic and kind, but the roots of that world he created in Ithaca and with Athena allow him to come home. He isn't a monster beyond redemption, he is also a part of that kinder world, regardless of what he has done.

And then you have the music echo the Just a Man melody when Odysseus sings:

"I'm just a man who's trying to go home

Even after all the years away from what I’ve known

I'm just a man who's fighting for his life

Deep down I would trade the world to see my son and wife

I'm just a man"

He is brought back to who he was when he was still just a man, before he became a monster. He did trade the world to see his son and wife and that makes him just a man.

The whole musical asks the question when a man becomes a monster and I think while it is never explicitly answered, that the answer is: when he isn't shown mercy. And that by showing someone mercy, you can reverse that. That it isn't permanent. I really love the moral question of mercy vs. ruthlessness in that Epic has, so it was really interesting to see how it came back in the end :D

[4linos]

behind closed doors

kim seungmin x fem!reader

synopsis/request: When you overhear Seungmin's parents' doubts about your relationship, you’re left questioning if you can ever measure up to their expectations until Seungmin’s support reminds you of what truly matters.

wc: 1948

It was an evening you had both anticipated and dreaded: your first meeting with Seungmin's family. The entire day had been a mixture of excitement and nerves for you.

Seungmin's parents and sister were very important to him, and you naturally wanted to make a good impression. Everything had started off nicely enough. His parents were polite and respectable, while his sister was vibrant and charming. They all seemed really friendly, which relieved some of the stress in your chest. However, there was an underlying pressure to appear as if you were the right person for Seungmin in their eyes. You wanted to show them how serious you were about him and the relationship.

Seungmin was his usual self, loving and fun, in stark contrast to the formal atmosphere you were trying to navigate. As the night went on, you tried to figure out a balance between being yourself and what you believed his family would expect from someone in your position.

You laughed a little too loudly at his father's jokes, became overly passionate talking about unimportant topics, and may have made a couple too many silly remarks. You didn't want to be too stiff or too serious; it felt like you were trying to draw a careful balance between demonstrating that you were polite and truly interested in getting to know them, while still allowing your personality to peek through.

But then came the time when you excused yourself to go the bathroom. You'd noticed a strange tightening in your chest, an almost unbearable sensation of pressure. Maybe it was the food, or it could have been the nerves. Regardless, you needed a time to breathe.

As you stood in front of the bathroom mirror, trying to settle yourself down, you had no idea that the thin walls allowed you to hear faint sounds on the other side. You weren't trying to eavesdrop; your mind was busy with your own ideas. But when the conversation you overheard started, it was like a punch to the stomach.

The words came through clearly, and they stung more than you expected. Seungmin's mother spoke softly yet firmly. "Do you think she's the one, Seungmin?" she asked, somewhat hesitantly.

You felt your heart speed up as his father spoke out, his tone condemning, "She seems so playful, too much so, don't you think?" "She doesn't seem to take things seriously." That was hardly the worst of it.

His father went on to say, "Seungmin, she is not marriage material. You need someone more grounded, someone who knows what it means to settle down.

Your throat tightened as the words struck you harder than expected. You wanted to run back into the room and interrupt, but your legs felt heavy, and your mind was racing to find a way to mask your pain. His mother continued, almost sadly, "She doesn't seem to be serious about you or this relationship. She seems too... young, too carefree."

Seungmin's voice came next, quieter than the others and almost protective. "She's just not used to...this," he explained. "She's a little different from what you expect, but that doesn't mean she doesn't care." His father was obviously unconvinced. "It's more than just caring, Seungmin. "She lacks the necessary maturity."

Then, maybe recognizing just how difficult the topic was for her brother, Seungmin's sister interrupted with more than a hint of impatience. "Mom and Dad, stop! She's great. You don't understand. She's like me; she's lively, warm, and kind. I really like her.”

It was comforting to hear someone fight for you, even if it was Seungmin's sister. You stood motionless, the hurt of their words still echoing in your chest. But you didn't have the courage to confront them right away.

What could you possibly say?

You tried so hard, probably too hard, to appear mature and serious, but it didn't feel like it was enough.

You stood in the bathroom for a while longer, feeling the weight of their judgment. You had tried to be someone you thought they’d want, but in doing so, you realized that you hadn’t really been yourself. You didn’t know how to process the idea that, maybe, you weren’t seen as good enough for Seungmin not by his parents, at least.

When you finally returned to the room, you knew something had changed. The air felt different. Seungmin’s sister, noticing your quieter demeanor, tried to shift the atmosphere by asking you more about your hobbies. “Wait, you like pottery?” she asked with wide eyes, an obvious attempt to get you talking.

"Yeah," you said quietly, trying to keep a light tone, "I've been getting into it lately. It's sort of relaxing." Her eyes sparkled with genuine enthusiasm. "No way! I've been doing pottery for several months now! That’s great!" She gasped, smiled warmly, attempting to lighten the mood even further. "We should definitely do something together. It will be so much fun! I can teach you some tricks; I'm very good at it."

For a little while, the connection you had with his sister managed to reduce some of the nervousness. Still, you couldn't shake the feeling that you were being watched in ways you hadn't expected, and that something was wrong. Seungmin also noticed the shift in you. He kept looking at you, brow wrinkled, stare kind yet anxious. His eyes would wander between you and his parents, almost as if he sensed something was wrong, but he didn't push.

Dinner continued, but the lightness was gone. His sister made more small talk, and you tried to engage, but it felt forced. Every time you tried to speak, Seungmin's gaze lingered on you, looking for answers he had not asked for. His parents, while being respectful, seemed to fall into silence after their earlier talk. You couldn't help but feel like an outsider in a space that you had hoped would feel like home.

You told yourself that you were overreacting. Maybe it was all in your head. But every time Seungmin's parents spoke to you, you felt judged, as if you hadn't proven yourself in their eyes. His sister, sensing your uneasiness, attempted to change the subject as much as possible, but the shadow of their words hung over you.

When the evening drew to an end, Seungmin led you to the door. You were calmer, almost withdrawn. You didn't want him to know how much it hurt, yet the disappointment persisted. As you grabbed for the door handle, Seungmin's voice broke the silence, softer than normal.

"Are you alright? You've been unusually quiet recently." You smiled, pretending everything was alright, but the weight of the evening hung heavy on your chest. "I'm fine," you said, but neither of you found it believable. "Just... tired, I guess." He didn't press any more, but his eyes were gentle and concerned, indicating that he had observed the change in you. "If you need to talk... anything, I'm here," he said softly, his fingers brushing over yours. You nodded, trying to smile, but it was hard to shake the feeling that you weren't enough, that you would never be enough for his family, no matter how hard you tried.

The cold breeze as you stepped into the peaceful night air did little to relieve the pressure in your chest. You strolled beside Seungmin, his arm brushing against yours in a way that used to comfort you but now only increased to the gap you felt between yourself and what had happened inside. The drive home was quiet, with the hum of the engine filling the gaps between the silences. Seungmin was still looking at you, his eyes flickering back and forth as if he wanted to question, to comprehend, but didn't want to push. His hands clutched the driving wheel tighter than usual, and the stress was evident. You could feel his anxiety, but you were not yet ready to talk. You weren’t sure how.

When you arrived at the apartment, he parked and sat for a time, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel. "I know you're not okay," he continued, his voice lower than usual. "Whatever happened tonight, please tell me. I'm here. But you don't have to if you aren't actually ready. You paused, unsure where to begin, but the weight of the overheard conversation, judgment, and unsaid expectations pressed down on you, threatening to spill over. "I don't know," you said, your voice trembling. "It's just hard, Seungmin. I tried so hard to fit in, to prove that I am... enough for you. But it seems like nothing I did mattered. They say I'm too childish, too carefree, and that I can’t take things seriously." Your voice caught, and you looked away, suddenly feeling exposed.

Seungmin's stare softened, and you thought you noticed a glint of frustration in his eyes, not at you, but at the situation. He reached over, softly squeezing your hand. "You are not too much of anything. I adore you for being who you are. I apologize if they made you feel uncomfortable. That is their problem, not yours.” You struggled to hold back the tears that threatened to flow, but they fell regardless.

The irritation, the hurt, and the overwhelming sensation of not being able to measure up all spilled out of you in an instant. Seungmin wasn't trying to stop you. He just sat there, holding your hand, allowing you to cry. His thumb traced small circles over your skin, the simple act offering more comfort than words ever could.

"I just don't want you to feel like you have to change," he said after a moment, his voice quiet and steady. "I understand they can be difficult. But I love you for who you are. I have never wanted anyone else. And you don't have to fake or change to make people see it." You sniffled and looked up at him with hazy eyes. "What if they never see it?" What if they never realize I'm serious about us? about you?" "They will," Seungmin replied confidently. "It may take time. And while they may not understand it right now, they will eventually see what I see. And in the meantime, all that matters is what we see in each other.”

You took a long breath, hoping to settle your rushing thoughts. Seungmin was right. The weight of his family's expectations should not be entirely on your shoulders. You weren't perfect. You didn't meet their expectations. What mattered most was that Seungmin saw you for who you were and loved you despite, or perhaps because of, your differences. "I'm sorry I've been so distant tonight," you said, wiping your tears. "I just didn't know how to handle all of it." He smiled tenderly, moving a stray strand of hair away from your face. "There is no need to apologize for how you feel. You don't have to explain your emotions to me or anyone else.”

The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the weight of the evening slowly lifting as Seungmin's presence settled you. You eventually turned to him, giving him a faint, sincere smile. “Thank you. For everything. I just don't want to disappoint you."

"You could never disappoint me," he continued, his voice firm and confident. "You're everything to me. And I will always stand by your side, no matter what." It wasn't a solution, and it wouldn't solve everything quickly. But it was enough to know that, in Seungmin's eyes, you were enough. And maybe that was all you truly needed to hold onto, at least for now.

The night wasn’t over, but somehow, with him beside you, it already felt a little lighter.

//

masterlist 📩

[kiwriteswords]

Drabble request—trying to explain to Hotch posting him on Instagram/making it Instagram official!

The Hard Launch [Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader Drabble]

Masterlist || Ao3||Word Count: 600

TW: Age gap, social media use, non-BAU reader, Aaron Hotchner POV

Aaron Hotchner had never been one for social media. Not one bit.

To him, the value of a private life far exceeded the lure of likes and comments. 

However, as he sat across from you in the soft glow of your living room, he couldn’t help but notice the way your fingers danced with nervous energy over your phone screen. 

Penelope, who lived next door to you, had been the architect of your meeting. Her intuition had proved impeccable, as usual. Despite the age gap of twenty years between you and Hotch, the connection was undeniable. It was your youthfulness that breathed new life into his structured world, and in turn, he offered a grounding stability you cherished.

Although, in this moment, he felt from an entirely different generation.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Hotch's voice was laced with caution as he watched you meticulously select a photo from your gallery.

You nodded, biting your lip in concentration. "Yes, but it has to be perfect. This isn’t just any post, Aaron. It’s us...going public. Officially."

Hotch’s brow furrowed, the corners of his eyes crinkling in thought. "And this is important because…?" His tone wasn’t dismissive, merely inquisitive. He genuinely sought to understand this slice of your world.

You paused, the selected photo of the two of you from Dave's retirement party displayed on your screen—both of you caught mid-laughter, a snapshot of genuine happiness. "It's about crafting the narrative we want to share. This," you gestured to the photo, "tells a story of joy. Of us. It’s not just for my friends but for anyone who comes across it. I want them to see the happiness we share, not just the age difference."

Hotch took the phone from your hands, studying the image. He had always been protective of his private life, especially after the tragedy with Haley and the constant threats that came with his job. But looking at the photo, the happiness evident in his usually reserved expression, he felt a rare surge of pride.

"You make a compelling argument," Hotch admitted, handing back the phone. "So, how do you make it ‘perfect’ then?"

You smiled, a sparkle of excitement in your eyes. "It’s about the caption too. It sets the tone." You started typing, your thumbs moving swiftly. "'A new chapter begins with endless possibilities,'" you read aloud, then looked up at him for approval.

"Poetic," he commented dryly, but his small, affectionate smile betrayed his appreciation. "You really think this is necessary?"

"It’s like marking a milestone," you explained, your gaze softening. "It's telling the world that this is my choice, our choice, and we’re happy. It's setting boundaries too, declaring that what matters is the narrative we choose to share and nothing else."

Understanding dawned on him then. It was a declaration, a way to control the story before others had the chance to define it for you. In his line of work, control was everything, yet here he was, learning a different kind of control—over personal perceptions and societal narratives.

"Okay, post it," Hotch said finally, the protective instinct giving way to support for your happiness. You looked at him, a mixture of relief and love washing over you, before pressing the share button.

As you set your phone aside, Hotch reached for your hand, a silent acknowledgment of the new step you both were taking. "How long until the world knows?"

You chuckled, "Give it a few minutes. Penelope probably already has the notifications on."

True to your words, within minutes your phone buzzed with Penelope’s enthusiastic approval and a stream of comments that followed. Hotch couldn’t help but feel a sense of rightness about it all. Maybe, just maybe, this social media thing had its merits, especially if it meant the world would know how proud he was to have you by his side.

[steddie-island]

I Want Your Midnights

Written for @steddiebingo Countdown to Midnight Prompts: Five, champagne, clothed sex Rating: E | WC: 832 | Tags: Getting together, first kiss, semi-public sex, declarations of love

ao3 | Divider credit

Five!

"Oh god—"

Four!

"Shhh, gonna get caught—"

Three!

"Don't stop—"

Two!

"Never— never gonna stop—"

One!

"I love you—"

They were never going to hear the end of it. They'd slipped out before the ball dropped because Steve had needed to get some fresh air.

Fresh air had turned into sharing a cigarette, had turned into joking about midnight kisses and plans for the new year. That had felt less like joking, though. Steve had known what Eddie's plans were— get the hell out of dodge, hit the road with the band. They had gigs lined up in bars that would have way more than five drunks to appreciate them.

Eddie's alleged crimes made him a target in Hawkins, but in other cities they were something that could draw in a bigger crowd. At least there was one good thing that had come from their fucked up spring break.

Talking about plans made Steve's throat tighten and his sinuses burn. There were no more monsters to fight now that Vecna was gone. Robin had offers from a dozen colleges. The kids were getting older, they didn't need him to be the goddamn babysitter anymore. They didn't need him hanging around, hovering even worse than their parents. They didn't need him—

Eddie had been right there, stepping into Steve's space and resting a cold hand on the back of his neck, snapping him out of it before he could spiral into a full blown panic attack.

"You're not supposed to look so sad on New Year's Eve, big boy. Hasn't anyone ever told you that?"

The weight of Eddie's hand, the familiar scent of his leather jacket and the champagne on his breath, it was too much for Steve to resist.

He'd grabbed the lapels of Eddie's jacket, pulled him in, kissed him just this side of too hard.

Eddie's hand had tightened around Steve's neck, Steve had wrapped both arms around Eddie's shoulders before deepening the kiss with a swipe of his tongue.

Their first kiss tasted like Joyce's champagne. Their second kiss tasted like the promise of new beginnings, like open doors and futures that were different than what had been imagined but that fit a hell of a lot better.

They pulled apart just before they could get a third kiss in.

"C'mon." Eddie had taken Steve's hand, tugged him towards the steps and away from the house, towards Steve's new truck. It didn't offer as much privacy as Eddie's van would have, but they hadn't managed to get that back from Hawkins PD yet.

Still, it was better than getting caught with their dicks in their hands on the front porch.

"We'll freeze to death," Steve had argued.

Eddie had just shot him a grin, turned the truck on and got the heat going. "Not gonna be out here long enough for that to happen anyway."

Cold fingers fumbled to get their jeans open. Steve's stomach jerked when Eddie ran a hand up under his shirt and up towards his chest.

"Fuck—" Steve arched towards Eddie's body as Eddie worked a nipple between his fingers.

"Can't believe I get to touch Steve Harrington's tits on the first date," Eddie laughed against his mouth.

"Tit— what?" Steve huffed out a laugh that turned into a moan. They could talk about that later, when Eddie wasn't sucking a mark against his throat and when he wasn't trying to get his hand into Eddie's jeans.

"Jesus, how'm I s'posed to get at your dick? Your pants are too fucking tight—"

"Are you really complaining?"

"…No."

They had laughed together until their cocks were free. Then Steve was taking them both in hand, stroking them together.

"Jesus— Steve—"

Steve just nodded, tugged Eddie in to kiss him hungrily.

This wasn't the first time that Steve had imagined for them. There were no pillows, no roses, no soft lighting that would let Steve see all of Eddie's scars.

There were just cold hands, fogged up windows, the sounds that Eddie made as Steve worked them both closer and closer to the edge.

Hearing Eddie gasp his name as he spilled over their fists was better than any New Year's Rockin' Eve could ever hope to be.

It was only after, when they'd cleaned up and Eddie was curled against Steve's chest, that Steve got a look at the clock. He smiled and turned to press a kiss to Eddie's forehead.

"You think '87 is gonna be your year?"

Eddie turned his face towards Steve's neck, to kiss the hickey he'd left behind. "Did you mean it? When you said you loved me?"

Steve looked down at Eddie's face. The interior truck lights were off but the moonlight reflected off of the snow lit everything up with bright light. "Yeah. Of course I meant it."

Eddie kissed his jaw and held him that much tighter, pushing back any thoughts about whether he'd said it too fast, too soon.

"Then I think it already is."

[thethronezone]

High Consort Pt. 3

Like mentioned in previous parts, you have a Custodi bodyguard. But you also have a whole guard of Custodes assigned to guard you, on orders of the Emperor of course. Your Custodi bodyguard just so happens to be the captain of this guard and the one that's always directly by your side. Because of this, you are quite close. So what if they work for your husband? So does every other bitch in the Imperium!

Whenever the Emperor leaves for the Great Crusade, it's up to you and Malcador to hold down the fort and make sure that everyone stay in line, both on Terra and beyond. You especially are seen as an extension of the Emperor and his will. This means a lot of public appearances on your part, with you flanked by your personal guard. Your presence reminds people that while the Emperor may be off planet and busy elsewhere, he is still aware of everything that's going on.

Because of this, you rarely leave Terra, or at least the star system. You might visit Luna or Mars every now and then but it's very rare that you venture to another part of the galaxy. You are needed where you are, providing a sense of stability in the heart of the Imperium.

Some people (mostly nobles) believe that, just cause you're not an incredibly buff, 4 meter tall, armored super-psyker that you are for some reason easier deal with, easier to push around. WRONG. You are both equally as terrible, sorry not sorry. The Emperor is unapproachable and straight up railroads every conversation while you just don't give a shit. You are older than most noble's bloodlines, at some point their rules just stop applying to you. The one big difference between you and Big E is that you at least try to act like a normal person, he doesn't, so people just find it easier to approach you.

There's also a belief that since you are HIGH Consort, that the Emperor is open to getting more consorts/concubines. At first this assumption was funny, the two of you had a good laugh about it. Then people kept trying to marry off their family members to him, accosting him at events, sending letters and some downright begging on their knees for him to accept one of their sons of daughters. Then only you were laughing. And Malcador, of course. He also found it all very funny.

Sometimes, when people want something from the Emperor or want to meet him, they try to get through you first. Butter you up so that you will put in a few good words for them to your husband. You might humor them for a short while, pretending to be as shallow as they appear to think you are, but the moment they no longer amuse you or step out of line you'll give your Custodi bodyguard a look that they know well. It means "I am tired of their chatter, remove them from my presence and if they ever try to approach me again, don't let them." You might be immortal but you won't waste your time on people you don't like.

A family can be a super-human psyker, his consort, their unmarried friend, their 10 000 strong personal army, their 20 18 super-human children and their respective super-soldier legions.

Half the Primarchs look at your and the Emperor's marriage and go "aww, so that's what true love looks like" and the other half goes "why haven't you DIVORCED this man yet?" Mortarion, Angron, and Perturabo full on believe you have Stockholm Syndrome or something.

Meanwhile, Lorgar, Horus and Lion think this is the perfect marriage, like, this is what everyone should strive for. Lorgar has written sermons about it and called it the "most divine and holy union in the galaxy". Would threaten to crucify himself if you and the Emperor ever separated. His legion would join him in solidarity. This is a hostage situation.

[will80sbyers]

Mileven is endgame, proof (let's see if you dare to respond):

1- Mike was scared of losing Eleven, that's why he made that face at the end of s3, he is so in love he cant even handle it!

2- Mike tried to help el when she got bullied and went looking for her, until you know who decided to make that moment about him. When El hit Angela, he was in shock, but the next day he tried to apologize empatizing with her and forgave he for lying inmediatly

I do think Mike likes Will, but he is in love with Eleven and that is a fact

Be honest are you a Byler pretending to be a mileven?

Because even for a mlvn there's no coherent train of thought here in any way so I hope it's someone saying random shit lol it's actually a trainwreck of "logic" from start to finish to the point that it's funny

Baby, if Mike "likes Will" then byler is endgame 100% because writers don't write bisexual characters or make a character like another if they don't intend to do anything with it, if you think in any capacity that Mike is bisexual then mileven is done lol

1) You're right, Mike is scared of losing El from his life, that's why he's still clinging to her even if the relationship is not good for them anymore... and I don't think he has realized his feelings for Will consciously yet, he's still trying to repress them, in the season 3 finale the reason he makes that face after the kiss is because he's shocked and they wanted to replicate the kiss in the IT saga between Bill and Beverly, note that they have also made a OBVIOUS parallel between byler and benverly...which will both be endgame 🌈❤️🤗

If you were talking about this shot right here

this is because he also has feelings for Will and it's directly connected to Will because that's his house and we had another shot before of Mike looking at the cars go away so they didn't need to repeat a shot of Mike like that, it wouldn't make sense if it was for Eleven, it's pretty obvious Byler is being constructed and mileven is being destroyed and it's been a few seasons of this...

They even made him find her choice of breakfast weird for literally no reason at all except focusing on how much they aren't really that much compatible as a couple

+ not liking her milkshake, not liking skating, not liking the pizza with pineapple, dressing up in a completely different style only because he feels so insecure with her that he feels like he needs to pretend to be cooler than who he really is and being with her makes him feel like he has to be in the "boyfriend role" instead of being just Mike... like El feels like she had to lie for months about her whole life just because she felt like Mike wouldn't love her if she wasn't normal enough... They don't understand each other fundamentally anymore and it's okay, you grow and you change and relationships stop working sometimes!

2) At rink o mania MIKE is the one that starts their argument taking away the focus from finding Eleven... just because he's pissed that Will wasn't acting happy that he was there being a 3rd wheel for their date... And Will clocked that and asked him to explain himself lmfao

Mike doesn't know what true love is yet... exactly like Laurie from Little Women didn't know shit about true love and was idealizing Jo

Mike is doing the same to El because he's a 14yo kid... He'll understand as he grows up 😚

[thanosscross]

Okay so hear me out, part 2 for Baby. It was literally amazing and you can't just leave it like that there has to be a part 2 it's illegal for there not to be. Thank you :)

-Fiance <3

Baby - Choi Seung- Hyun/T.O.P x reader part 2

Summary: Your relationship with T.O.P was going amazing, to the point where you start to feel part of the family

warnings: Literally all fluff, at the end it does get spicyy

The few weeks after meeting Seung Hyun was amazing, you spent almost every night, either spending it tangled up in the sheets together, or sitting in his room talking about him personally or you, you liked hearing him talk about himself, he always said he didn't like to, and it wasn't very gentleman like, but it made you feel special, you were finding out things almost nobody knew about it, and he wanted to tell you.

Sitting in his dressing room you played around on your phone, waiting for Seung Hyun to get back from his mic check, you both decided to keep things private, he was okay with telling the world he found someone, but he didn't want to tell them who yet, and you were fine with staying out of the spotlight. You were pulled out of your thoughts but the loud talking and laughs coming closer to the dressing room doors "Y/n!!" You heard, before hearing an 'ompf' and a muffled "She's my girl, I get to see her first" Giggling you walked closer to the door laughing as it flung open, all four men falling into the room "Slow down! My lord" You laughed, your boyfriend being the first to jump to his feet "Baby" He smirked, stepping over his friends to grasp your hips in his hands, the stress from rehearsing one last time before their show immediately vanishing as soon he had you. "Hi, sweetheart" You smiled pecking his lips softly "Y/n! Y/n! Seung Hyun! He was getting down pretending you were there!" Ji-yong shouted, standing to his feet "you were?" You smiled raising his eyebrows, you couldn't ignore the blush on his cheeks as he shot a glare towards his friend "I was just...trying to get an idea of how my part would go" He whispered scratching the back of his neck sheepishly, you just smiled pressing a quick but sweet kiss to his lips, causing a mixture of 'aww's from the group, and Seung Hyun's cheeks going brighter. You liked this Seung Hyun, he was different than who you first met, someone who matched the personality he played on stage and for interviews, but this version? Was sweet, was always flustered to get any sort of affection from you that was anywhere other than the bedroom, and was always on a mission to make everybody around him laugh. "Okay, we'll leave you two lovers alone" Dae-sung smiled, rushing the others out to their respected rooms. Seung Hyun just held onto you pulling you to the couch "You're lazy, you know that right?" You teased, letting him pull you onto his lap "Am not, I just like to be with you when I can" He protested, you watched as he let his head fall back in relaxation, his eyes slowly falling shut. You took this opportunity to study and admire his features, still somehow, being almost five years older than you, he still somehow looked almost younger than you. You didn't notice his eye peeking open to glance at you "you're staring, dear" His voice was low, almost like he was on the verge of falling asleep "Sorry, my love" You whispered shyly, hiding your face by pressing it against his chest "Stare away, baby, I'm yours" He smirked, tilting his head further back "It's rude to" You replied, trailing your finger tips down his jawline "Yes but..I say..It's okay" He whispered looking down to meet your gaze, you shivered against his touch, offering him a soft smile as you heard the muffled voice from his ear piece “boys, three minutes until showtime” Sighing he looked at you offering a sympathetic smile “you gonna hang out here for me?” He asked softly, pressing his lips against your jawline waiting for a reply “of course, anything for you, Seung Hyun” you smiled giving his a soft kiss to his lips before letting him up, watching him leave.

You stayed in the room for a good twenty minutes before boredom overtook you, leaving you to slowly sneak out onto the arena floor, following the walkway to the side of the stage, you watched silently in awe, keeping a tight hold of the curtain that shielded you from everybody else in front of the giant stage. You watched as the boys moved around on stage, effortlessly singing along with the song, you didn't even noticed Seung Hyun staring at you in shock, or the fact you were going along with his rap that he had stopped for a moment. As Ji-Yong started his voice, you finally caught Seung Hyun's eyes just as he smirked turning around to continue back up vocals for his friend. You were there the rest of the show, giggling any time the boys came over closer to you, the boys making it a game to see who could get you the most flustered, Seung Hyun took it as a personal challenge, you were his girlfriend after all. So during knock out with Ji-yong, he slowly made his way to you, making sure to circle to stage before stopping in front of you smirking, starting his second verse as he motioned for you to come closer, taking a half step closer, giggling, your cheeks hot with a harsh blush. The more he continued you, the more you felt yourself losing yourself in your thoughts, that weren't very PG, he smirked, feeling like he accomplished what he wanted to, he left back to the center of the stage.

After that you rushed back to his dressing room, trying to clear your thoughts, you couldn't help it, the words, the eye contact, and the way his mouth moved as he rapped effortlessly reminded you of your first nights together. It was another hour or two before the boys were finished, just ready to get themselves changed and get back to their apartment. As Seung Hyun walked towards his room he was silent, just wanting to see your flustered and embarrassed face again, he'd be lying if he said he wasn't turned on the rest of the show because of the looks you gave him while he preformed. Opening the door, his mind suddenly shifted from how badly he just wanted to take you on his dressing room couch, to how beautiful you looked passed out on the same couch, one of his hoodies he wore to the arena being draped over your curled up body. "Baby.." He whispered, slowly causing you to stir, you opened your eyes smiling whenever you saw your messy haired boyfriend, his shirt missing, only his infamous red jacket being left on his top half. "my love" You whispered tiredly wrapping your arms around his neck trying to pull him down to lay with you, but he just laughed at your antics shaking his head, gently taking your hands in his own "We're leaving soon...Are you coming home or to your apartment?" He asked gently, lifting you up with ease, even after being exhausted from the long ass show they just finished "Going home, duh" You scoffed, almost like you were offended he'd even ask "Why don't you just move in then, if it's home?" He asked, You just shrugged against him, starting to doze off again until he bounced you slightly "Stay awake, baby, We gotta get everything together" He whispered pressing his lips to your neck, you groaned slowly shuffling yourself down to stand in front of him "You're so mean to me, seung hyun" You frowned, pouted tiredly "I bet if I asked the boys they'd do it" you added on, Seung Hyun just raised his eyebrows at you as if to challenge your statement, you glared storming out of the room huffing, hearing the door slam open, the remaining three boys opened their doors peeking out "Y/n?..what's wrong?" They all took turns asking, you gave your best pouty face to them all huffing "Seung Hyun woke me up just to help pack stuff, and I'm really tired" You frowned, knowing Dae-sung would at least, considering you helped each boy with their costume checks and helping during rehearsal all night the night before "We can get it, Y/n!" He shouted, Ji-yong huffed "Yea I can get it Y/n!" He argued, you smiled "Thank you boys...I owe you all breakfast in the morning" You offered before walking past the room you were previously in, Seung Hyun was quick to follow behind you, grabbing your hips to stop you in your tracks "You little trick" He whispered pulling your hips against his "Am not, People just like me" You teased, leaning against him "Yea yea, go get in the car, I'll get our things" He smiled, he didn't mind, you were his princess, he'd do anything for you, even if you asked to be carried everywhere, he'd probably complain, but he'd do it anyways.

Whenever you got back to the house, you would swear your boyfriend was somehow drunk, his hands were constantly on your body, pulling you closer to him, holding your thighs and your chest in his hands as he would either whisper in your ear how amazing you were to him, or kissing your neck. As you stepped into the shared home of the boys and you, he just got worse, not letting you say goodnight or grab a drink before he basically dragged you up to your room, as the door shut he looked you up and down before attaching his hands and lips back to your body "Choi Seung Hyun, what has gotten into you" You gasped as he shoved you back onto the mattress "You have to stop coming to my shows, you're gonna kill me" He whispered against your collarbones as he left soft open mouthed kisses to them "Did I do something wrong" You asked softly, cupping his cheeks, genuinely worried you had upset him or somebody else "Do my part of any song, go ahead" He growled, pulling away to look at you, nervously you started to slowly recite his words, but he stopped you "Just like you did tonight, baby" he corrected, you started again, just as nervous, but this time a lot faster than before, only now did you realize the change in his eyes and facial expressions as you finished "That." Was all he spat before going back to leaving hickey's down your shirt "I-I'm sorry?" You giggled, now realizing you didn't do anything wrong, you just, gave him a reaction he'd prefer not having on stage in front of millions of people. "Don't be a smartass" He warned, you just giggled more, you couldn't help it the situation was funny.

"Seung Hyun, I'm disappointed, if you wanted me, you could've just asked me" You laughed, running your hands through his hair "I want you. and it's not an ask" He whispered looking up at you from his spot at the top of your jeans waistband "Go ahead" You smirked pulling off your shirt, he smirked, doing his part to practically rip your jeans off of you.

--

Another part with smut? Lmkkk

[ihfmseatsoch]

Happy new year!!!!! I hope your new year is good!!! To start the new year off, would it be okay to request something softer with Jimmy? Dubcon of course with the reader topping and giving Jimmy soft praise to where he starts crying? Like he has a mommy kink and he unravels when he gets gentle sex?

-🥩

HAPPY NEW YEAR !!! 😁🎉 ermm i went a little crazy with this one. i love jimmy best when hes nice and pathetic

genre: smut, angst

word count: 3.6k

fem!reader

warnings/content: porn with a lot of feelings, heavy self deprecation, jimmy has mommy issues, mentions of parental abuse and drug addiction, mommy kink, sub jimmy, ooc maybe but IDC!!!!!

—

"Fuck are you doin'?"

Jimmy mutters, and you're unsure if he's confused, or upset. He makes the same expression for either emotion.

You're sat on his lap, straddling his hips while your fingers tenderly brush his hair back, raking them through the surprisingly soft strands. It's surprising, because he only uses that two-in-one shit from the dollar store.

"What do you mean?" You say, not really paying any attention to his usual snark.

He leans into your touch, almost like a cat; seeming to enjoy your attention, but there's a chance he may get sick of it in a split second and bite your hand. Still, he craves physical touch just as much as the next person, even if he'd never admit that to anyone, including himself. It's stupid, he thinks, to be that vulnerable. To crave something like a loving touch or a warm hug. It's corny.

He scoffs at your question, but it’s more lighthearted than anything. "I’m talking about you being all… lovey-dovey on me. You tryin' to butter me up for somethin'?"

You shake your head 'no', with a gentle smile. It's not like buttering him up would result in anything in the first place. Usually, if you really do want something, he'll complain and accuse you of being spoiled. Although, there's a 50% chance that if you give him a blowjob first, he'll be slightly more agreeable.

"Nope. Nothing like that. Am I not allowed to love you?" You press a kiss to his forehead, and you receive a quiet grumble from him in response. Jim's trying desperately to maintain his usual grumpy demeanor, but he's failing. He hates that you can get him like this, how you can make the all-consuming ache in his body dissipate with a squeeze of his hand or a kiss to his temple. Jimmy can never just accept that he wants your affection, but you can tell that he doesn't mind it one bit, even if he continuously acts like he wants you as far away from him as possible.

"Shut up…” He hesitates for a moment, clearly debating his next words. “I didn’t say you couldn’t… do that…” Jimmy mumbles, and his hand snakes around your waist, keeping you in place on his lap, giving your hip a tentative squeeze. "You don't have to be sappy about it."

"Being in love with you is sappy?"

You ask, holding both sides of his face in your hands, his coarse stubble scratching your thumbs as they caress his cheeks, feeling every groove of his protruding cheekbones. Every inch of him is sharp. Angular, and jagged. He tries his hardest to make his outward appearance match his heart. Unlucky for him, you're annoyingly determined to see him in a different light.

Jimmy's looking everywhere except your face, refusing to admit that he's quickly turning into a sniveling, needy boy who wants nothing more than to just be held. No one's ever loved him before. No one's ever said stuff like that to him, or ever made him as soft as he is now. He's not quite used to the idea of vulnerability yet. He can hear the voice in his head, telling him to pull back, to run and hide.

"Yeah," He reiterates, "It is."

You closely study the way his features soften. His brows, which have always seemed to be frozen in a permanent furrow, relax ever so subtly. Anyone would have to be as close as you are right now to notice the difference.

"Ah, I see." You nod in faux understanding. "My sincerest apologies."

He hates how much you know him. Hates how you pay attention to the smallest of details, to every bit of his body language. How you've cracked down his walls and managed to see him for the pathetic, touch-starved man he is right down to his very soul. It's embarrassing. Humiliating, even. But yet, he has no idea how to pull back. He's hooked. A nicotine addiction with even less ability to drop the habit.

"Don't be a smartass." He mutters in response to your sarcasm, looking like he's moments away from throwing you off his lap, but his hand on your waist hasn't moved since he absentmindedly placed it there.

You click your tongue at his ever present stubbornness. You'll have to take things a bit further to get him to quit being such an ass.

A subtle roll of your hips against his gets him to physically tense under you, his fingertips digging a little too painfully hard into your flesh, though it doesn't deter you. You trail a hand down his lean chest, purposefully tantalizing with how slow you move. "Don't be stubborn." You almost sound stern. Like you're scolding him.

Jimmy sucks in a breath at your obvious teasing, the sound devolving into a low, stifled noise. "I'm not being stubborn," His voice wavers embarrassingly, "And stop that."

"Stop what?" You bite back a grin at your feigned cluelessness, though it's not entirely meant to be all that convincing in the first place. You shift in his lap again. He's already getting worked up, and all you're doing is toying with him. Jimmy can't let you win that easily, right?

"Don't give me that shit, you know damn well what," He hisses, glaring at you with annoyance, "Stop... moving around like that." His voice betrays him a second time, cracking mid-sentence.

"Why?"

You tilt your head inquisitively, and before he can snap at you again, your palm presses down onto his groin, making all of his attitude fizzle out momentarily. Jimmy stiffens, his grip on you tightening. He doesn't respond to your question instantly, too distracted by how you're caressing his now apparent hard-on through his jeans, and a shaky exhale escapes him. The noise sounds so vulnerable, so uncharacteristic and unguarded for a man like him, and it takes him a couple moments before he's able to form a response.

"...You're a mean little brat, you know that?" He manages to get out through gritted teeth.

"Aww, don't be like that," You lean in to pepper a trail of sweet kisses starting at his cheek, down to his jaw, neck, and finally, at his collarbone. The way his breath hitches tells you everything you need to know. "Don't pretend like you hate this."

He makes a noise that rises from the back of his throat, between a whine and a growl, like a wounded animal in need of someone to soothe them Jimmy isn't used to having such a gentle and loving touch on his bruised, damaged body. You're treating him like he's something fragile, breakable, something to take care of.

He's not, he knows he's not.

Yet, he can't stop the way your kisses are burning his skin, heating him to the very core. Jimmy never thought he was someone worthy of being spoiled with soft, chaste kisses, being touched with gentle, adoring hands. And yet, here you are, doing that exact thing.

Jimmy tries to respond, he really does, but all he can do is let out a small, choked-up moan.

Noticing the way his adams apple bobs as he swallows down and contains his emotion, you pull back to look him directly in his eyes, pools of honey brown that only hold your reflection alone inside of them in this moment. "Hey," Your tone becomes more serious, less playful than before, "I love you, Jim. You never let me, but I still do."

That word. 'Love'. Jimmy hates it. Not because he's never heard it before, but because for some reason, it's never sounded real when directed towards him.

"Why?" Is all he manages to ask, not accustomed to this type of raw, vulnerable affection. Where's the screaming, the anger, the violence? Where's the toxicity?

"Why shouldn't I?"

You respond with a question of your own. There's a multitude of answers he could give you. He's been screwed up since birth, his own mom abandoning him at some junky trailer park with his father who found any reason to give him a black eye, or throw him out into the dirt. Quite literally, sometimes.

Or the fact that he's never made an effort to improve his own life, even after he made it out of that "home". Instead, he got addicted to heroin and sex and alcohol and destroyed himself for the thrill he got out of torturing himself.

Who would love someone like that?

Jimmy can't take your kind, loving gaze on him anymore, so he turns his head to the side, refusing to look at you. He wants to scream at you, to say something cruel and heartless, to tell you to knock off that 'doey-eyed' bullshit and give him the cold hard truth of the matter. That people like him aren't meant to be loved, that he's a disgusting, pathetic mess who doesn't deserve a single drop of your affection.

But all he can do is silently swallow down the lump in his throat, too emotional to muster up a reply.

You turn his head right back towards you, and kiss him on the corner of his mouth, right on an ugly scar that never fully healed properly. "Can I take care of you? Just once, will you let me?" You murmur against his skin, warm and flushed.

Jimmy's brain is wired to resist, to deny your advances and stubbornly hold onto any sort of 'authority' and masculinity he has left. To give in to you would be letting you win, surrendering to your kindness. That's what he keeps telling himself, anyway.

A long, shuddering exhale escapes his lungs.

"...Yeah," He whispers like it pains him to say it out loud, "Yeah, you can."

He's only semi-hard now, not exactly horny enough to get it up, but desperate enough for your attention in any form.

You take his cock out of his fly, holding him in your hand so delicately that he feels pitied. He doesn't want to feel so fragile. But, in your hands, it's not so terrible. His skin tingles with warmth, even deep inside of him burns with an aching desire to be wanted. Maybe that's why he agreed to this in the first place. Not because of sexual enticement, but instead, the intense yearning he's pushed down and ignored.

It's hard to wrap his mind around the fact that a woman like you actually seems to care about him at all. He's a parasite. He can't help but want more from you, to devour you whole and keep you in his clutches. Jimmy can't stand being touched like this, being treated like he's something valuable, something worthwhile. He wants to push you away and tell you to stop pampering him like he's a helpless baby, because he's not. He's a man, and men aren't supposed to melt and tremble at a loving touch.

But god, does it feel incredible when you begin to stroke him. Your hand is so soft, meticulously taken care of, while his are calloused, dry skin bitten and torn off, resulting in sore cuticles and rough palms. The rise and fall of Jimmy's chest gradually picks up speed, uncharacteristically subservient noises leaving his throat.

"I love you," You suckle a sensitive spot on his neck, mumbling praises between leaving a red hickey on his tanned skin, "I love you so much. I mean it."

Jimmy's mind is stuck in a haze of confusing emotions, every word you say goes straight to his head, fueling his self-destructive tendency to crave more, more, more. Why are you doing this? What do you gain from acting so sweet to him?

"You–" He shudders, "You're wasting your time with me."

Maybe he's right. You can't change him, not by a longshot. He'll never treat you the way you deserve, like a proper boyfriend. He'll always end up shouting at you out of frustration, he'll always break things and punch walls during arguments, he'll always slip horribly deep into his depression and self isolate, rotting alone in his room while you're worried sick about him.

But you're not trying to "fix" him. You're taking him as he is, flaws and all.

Jimmy's no longer sure if he can stomach the realization that maybe, just maybe, you genuinely love him.

The way you're pumping his cock, sending stinging jolts of burning hot pleasure that shoot straight through his abdomen, makes him react in a way neither of you expect.

He's crying.

It feels so good– you're so fucking infuriatingly good, all he can do is weep. Tears stream down his face as he whimpers, his breathing coming out as labored, choked gasps. A shaky breath comes from him, trying to compose himself before he speaks, "You should stop. Please. I don't deserve it."

You shake your head, persistent as ever when it comes to him. You wipe away a fresh tear as soon as it attempts to slip down his cheek.

"No," You say, "Don't push me away." The way you look at him, all love and tenderness; it makes him nauseous.

"Please..." He begs. He's not sure what for.

You shush him, a finger to his chapped lips, before you pull your pants down, underwear along with them. He's seen you bare more times than not, yet in this particular instance, it feels like your willingness to give yourself to him is an act of gracious mercy. He only takes, and yet, you give so freely.

"It's alright," You coo, melodic, "Just relax."

His heart is pounding in his chest as his eyes linger on your cunt, glistening and eager, just for him, and you can see the sheer need in his eyes. If he wasn't before, he's completely defenseless against you now, and it scares him how badly he loves and loathes it at the same time.

It takes everything inside him not to cry out as you guide him to your hole, sinking down slow so you don't overwhelm him all at once. Jimmy buries his face in your chest, his breathing labored and stuttering. "I'm right here, I've got you." You kiss the top of this head, petting his hair back, smoothing down every loose strand. Yhe way you're so gentle and attentive with him, handling him with care, it feels maternal. Motherly. Or, at least, what he imagines having a mother coddle you feels like.

You're warm. Comforting. Nurturing. Patient. All the adjectives that describe the parental figure he didn't have. You're what he's been missing, deprived of.

Jimmy holds onto you like a lifeline, helping you lift up, then sink back down onto him in a steady rhythm, your gummy insides pulsing to the beat of your heart around his aching cock. You're pulled flush against him, his lips lightly grazing the area around your collarbones, leaving an array of light hickeys.

"My perfect boy," You let out a satisfied sigh, lifting your bra up and over your body to reveal your chest to him, your tits bouncing at every movement, "Always so good to me."

Jimmy can't take it. The idea that he's perfect? It's so unbelievably rewarding to hear those words directed at him. He lets out a trembling whine at the sight of your newly exposed skin, before immediately burying his face into your tits, a hand moving to grope and squeeze one, his mouth latching onto the other, eagerly sucking and taking your piqued nipple between his teeth.

You let out a few moans of your own, gasping every time he nips you a little too hard. "F– Fuck, that's good, Jim." Your fingers grip the hair on the back of his head, tugging lightly, the way it makes his scalp sting slightly causing him to groan against you, the sound low and gutteral.

He can't think straight anymore, every single one of his senses completely overwhelmed. In the heat of the moment, he finds himself involuntarily crying out something that immediately makes him want to jump into a vat of acid.

"M– Mommy–"

You freeze for a moment, not from disgust or discomfort, just... surprise. Jimmy? Your Jimmy, calling you mommy of all things? You thought you'd entered another plane of existence. After forcing a quick recovery, you notice his own mortification.

"...What'd you say?" You ask, not intentionally trying to embarrass him further, you just wanted to double check that you actually heard what you thought you heard.

Jimmy is currently in a full blown panicked frenzy. He's never called anyone that in his life. Literally, he didn't even have a mother figure to give that title to. Trying to regain his bearings through the hot wash of shame coarsing through his body, his head feeling full of cotton, he stammers, "Fuck, I– I don't know where that came from, I–" he should just get up and go hang himself, he thinks.

"Hey, no, it's fine," You reassure him, even though it does nothing to alleviate his humiliation, "I don't mind, really."

He's expected you to call him disgusting, berate and mock him for being a creep; Anything but being so understanding and patient. "W– Why... Why are you so... you?" He asks, unable to wrap his head around how you haven't broken into a fit of laughter yet.

You shrug, chuckling a little at his impossible question, "Well, I don't exactly have the answer to that," Your hand moves to knead his shoulder, easing the tension away, "But... I do know that I wouldn't mind being your mommy. Not at all."

Jimmy hated how his cock twitched inside of you when you said that, the realization that he actually liked what he's hearing, that he wanted to call you mommy of all things, made him want to bang his head against the wall until it splits.

"...Just, don't– don't fuckin' make fun of me for this." He grumbles, burying his face back in between your soft tits to hide himself. He couldn't possibly maintain eye contact right now.

"Never." You shake your head, returning to riding his dick, slower and softer than you've both ever been in bed. It felt nice, to give up control. To let you take your time with him, whispering praises into his ear, leaving sugary sweet love bites on his neck.

This, he believes, is true bliss.

Being pampered like this... It's addictive, and he's not letting go of it now that he finally has a taste.

"Th– Thank you," He whines, low and needy, sounding choked up again, "Thank you."

It's rare to hear him show gratitude for something, especially in a way that's so deep, so genuine. "Thank you... what?" You decide to indulge yourself in this side of him while you have the chance.

Jimmy groans, knowing where you're going with this. He's too pathetic to deny himself what he wants at this point, and he whimpers pleadingly, "...Thank you..." He chokes the words out as if he's being forced against his will, but you can practically hear how eager he is to say the next word on his tongue, "...Mommy."

"There you go," You croon, "That's a good boy. You're mommy's good little boy, aren't you?"

He doesn't know why he feels like sobbing.

Everything you're saying is seared directly into his brain, scolding hot, like a brand. "Yeah," He breathes, "Yeah, I'm... I'm your good boy." Jimmy nestles his face into the side of your neck. He's a dog, rubbing against their owner, begging for attention.

As he nears his release, he gradually turns into even more of a mess, his salty tears falling onto your shoulder, arms wrapped so tight around your torso that you fear he'll snap your ribcage in two, babbling a broken, trembling string of "mommy, mommy, mommy–"

"Mommy's right here." You breathe, his cock hitting all the right angles deep inside you, and for once, you're setting the pace, which only enhances the experience for you.

Jimmy knows he'll regret this later. This entire experience will probably turn into something else his brain tortures him with at night, but, at the moment, he's too drunk off your cunt to care. His head is empty for once, fuzzy and blissfully silent. He can't even form a proper sentence anymore, the only words able to make it past his lips are desperate pleads.

"Are you close, honey?" You ask, and you receive a frantic nod from him in response, along with a strangled whimper. "I know, I know," You murmur with audible compassion, "You want to cum so bad, don't you?"

He's sure that this is his new form of worship, his religion. Not that he ever had one to begin with. "Y– Yeah," He whines, breathless, "Please... Please–"

"You don't have to beg," You tell him, even though, truthfully, you were getting off on his begging this entire time, "Go ahead and cum for mommy. Cum deep in mama's pussy, baby."

Jimmy throws his head back, jaw clenched, eyes screwed shut, and as if by your command, he releases inside of you with a drawn out, quivering mewl, hot spurts of his release coating your insides. You can feel him throb, twitch, and tremor, coming undone, all because of you.

He looks more beautiful to you than he ever has, with a tear stained face and red rimmed eyes.

You comfort him as he comes down from his high, leaving a trail of kisses down the slope of his neck, from his adams apple to the area between his collarbones. You're like a soothing balm to an old and rotten wound he's long since tried to forget.

For better or for worse, he's never letting you go.

—

[alternate-real-ities]

I'd love to see what alternate versions of this guy there are.

Sure buddy. It wasn't easy tuning my machine this time, but I think I've found some interesting realities out there! Hope you like them :)

In an alternate reality not so different from our own, this bearish hunk has taken on a more muscular, less chubby form - transformed into a behemoth. Here, he's not just any old gym rat; he's a world-famous powerlifter and internet celebrity whose influence knows no bounds.

Young men from all corners of the globe look up to him as their idol, their motivation, their reason for living - especially when it comes to getting swole. They follow his every post, eagerly absorbing each tip on training and nutrition like gospel from a fitness prophet. And why not? With a physique like his, who wouldn't want to emulate perfection?

His pecs are massive, each one a study in taut, rippling muscle that defies the laws of physics. His arms bulge with thickness, as if carved from granite by some mythical sculptor. His thighs are tree trunks, powerful and unyielding, while his calves are chiseled masterpieces of human anatomy.

But his influence extends far beyond the gym walls. In this world, a new wave of ripped teens has become the norm, thanks largely to their idolization of this muscular beast. Gone are the days of skinny, awkward youth; now, every boy from puberty onwards is driven to get big and buff in order to measure up.

Parents worry about the health implications, but who can blame them for wanting their sons to grow up strong and confident like this fitness icon? And as for the young men themselves, they'd follow him anywhere - even into the depths of steroid abuse if it means achieving that perfect, chiseled physique.

In this world, there's no escaping his shadow - nor would anyone want to. For in the presence of such unadulterated muscle majesty, all other men are but mere mortals, forever relegated to the sidelines while he reigns supreme as the ultimate embodiment of human potential.

In another reality, our bearish hunk has been reborn as a towering Latin stud, the kind of papi that makes hearts race and loins stir across every continent. Hailing from Colombia, he grew up in a world where machismo is king, and his rugged good looks and powerful physique were destined for greatness.

Here, he's known as Papi Leche, a towering figure of masculine perfection with a body that could make even the most devout Catholic priests weep with lust. His skin is a rich, burnished brown that glistens with the sheen of oil and sweat after a long day at the gym.

But it's not just his physique that sets this Latino daddy apart - it's his legendary cum, renowned throughout the land for its unparalleled potency and addictive quality. Gringos from all over the world can't resist the allure of his Latin leche, once they've tasted its salty, intoxicating flavor.

He takes great pleasure in breaking them down, both physically and mentally, until they're nothing more than obedient little cumsluts desperate for another taste of his golden nectar. And he always delivers, pumping load after massive load into their eager mouths and throats until they're drowning in Latin dick juice.

And it's not just a physical addiction. They gradually change the more leche they drink. Their skin darkens, their features soften, and their accents change until they're speaking in perfect, melodic Spanish.

Before long, this Latino daddy has an entourage of half-Latino, half-gringo chicos who worship him and vie for his attention - all of them hooked on his leche like junkies on a fix.

So if you ever find yourself in Colombia, make sure to keep an eye out for this hulking bear of a man - but be warned: once you've caught sight of him, there's no escaping his gravitational pull. You'll be drawn in like a moth to a flame, helpless to resist the allure of his latin leche until you're nothing more than a mindless, cum-addicted shell of your former self.

Finally, in yet another reality, our bearish hunk has been reborn as a cocky, wealthy young Arab stud - the epitome of Dubai's high-flying elite and a player in every sense of the word.

Here, he's the king of the scene, with a body that's equally at home on the beach or in the boardroom. His skin is a flawless, golden brown, his features chiseled like marble from the hands of a skilled sculptor.

As a member of Dubai's elite social circle, he moves through life like a prince among paupers - except instead of a crown, he wears a gold-plated watch on each wrist. He cruises the city in his gleaming black Lamborghini, with a string of adoring twink boys piled into the backseat for good measure.

These young men are just playthings for him to use and discard, their tight little holes and eager mouths mere receptacles for his boundless sexual appetite. He'll fuck them raw, pump them full of cum, and then toss them aside like yesterday's trash - all while smirking in satisfaction at the knowledge that he's left another broken little twink in his wake.

But it's not just about the physical act for this Arab stud; it's about the power dynamic. He loves nothing more than to humiliate his conquests, reducing them to quivering, tear-streaked messes as he lectures them on their place in the world - namely, at his feet, servicing his every whim.

And when he lets loose with that massive, cut Arab cock, it's a sight to behold - thick, veiny, and heavy as a horse's head, with a bulbous, slit-tipped crown that glistens with precum. It's the kind of dick that can stretch even the most well-fucked hole to its limits, leaving its recipients gasping in awe at his sheer size and potency.

And yet, despite all the degradation and abuse, these twinks can't get enough of him. They're addicted to the thrill of being used by such a powerful, dominant figure; they crave the taste of his cum on their tongues and the feeling of his thick, veiny cock splitting them open.

But despite all of this, this Arab boy has a soft spot for romance. He adores showering his favorite twink with expensive gifts and lavish dates - taking him to the finest restaurants and clubs, then whisking him away to his private villa for a night of passionate lovemaking under the stars.

So if you ever find yourself in this version of Dubai, keep an eye out for this hunky Arab stud. Just be prepared to worship him... and pray that he deigns to notice your pathetic little existence.

And so, once again, we have explored the possibilities that the multiverse provides. Which version of our friend here do you think is the most appealing? Or perhaps you have your own alternate version in mind? Who knows, the possibilities are endless...

[psychoticbipolarbear]

Gifts

pairing: Spencer Reid x reader

summary: You and Spencer broke up two years ago, but now you received a gift on the anniversary of the biggest tragedy of your lives, so you give him a visit to confront him.

word count: 1.5k

tags: fem!reader, mention of a child's death

Birthday. Halloween. Christmas. Anniversary. Pi Day. Doctor Who Day. 

Flowers. Small presents. Sometimes both. 

It’s been almost two years since you and Spencer agreed to end your relationship, yet he keeps sending you stuff. There is usually a card with SR on it, but there is no other message. You never really understood why he keeps sending them, but you aren’t about to give him the satisfaction of showing interest. You just throw them out. Each and every one of them.

Today you find another gift on your doorstep, wrapped in shiny blue paper, decorated with a big white bow on the top and, of course, it has the usual card tucked under the bow. You haven’t received a present on this particular day before, this is a first, and you can’t help but wonder what made him send one now. It’s sick and twisted, there’s absolutely nothing to celebrate about today, if anything, it’s a day to forget. But then you open the box, and it’s white-hot rage that fills your mind. 

Without hesitation, you put the gift in your bag and head to Spencer’s apartment, already planning what profanities you’re gonna throw at him for messing with you like this. He from all people should know better than to remind you of this, in fact, you’re surprised he’s that okay with remembering what happened on this day. Each step that takes you closer to his door makes you a little more nervous, because you don’t know how talking to him about this will play out. 

You knock, keeping it civil and gentle at first, but then you put a little more force into the move to make sure he hears you. Within a matter of seconds the door opens, and you’re standing face to face with the man who was the love of your life, the one who turned himself into the boogeyman with those gifts. But today’s present crossed a line, you couldn’t ignore the problem any longer. 

“What are you doing here?” he asks you, sounding honestly confused to find your standing there.

It’s hard to bite back the sarcastic laugh that wants to erupt from your throat. Taking a deep breath to prepare yourself, you push him aside and march inside, waiting for him to come after you in silence. As you watch him move, you take a better look at him–at his face, at his movements, everything. He’s different. Very different. He looks exhausted and stressed, and you can’t help but wonder what’s causing it. Where’s the sweet nerdy guy you spent over four years with?

Clearing your throat, you open your bag and put the gift on the coffee table. “Explain this.” Spencer’s eyes move to the item, the fuzzy, reddish-brown, newborn-sized jumpsuit with the fox on it, then he looks back at you with a look that shows honest confusion. “In the past years, you gave me no choice but to get used to the gifts you’re sending. Fine, I throw them out and forget about them. But this? Why? This is the first time you sent me anything on this day. It’s sick, Spencer, you know it! You have a gun, shooting me in the head would be more gentle. Or did you turn into some sick sadist?!” you scream, tears forming in the corners of your eyes.

He opens his mouth to speak up, but he struggles to find the right words for a while. “Okay, take a deep breath and calm down. The other gifts? Yes, those were from me, and I’ll stop, I promise. This? I have nothing to do with this one,” he promises as he runs his hand over the little jumpsuit. “But sadly, I have a pretty good guess who sent this so-called gift to you.”

“Is it related to one of your cases?” you ask hesitantly, knowing full well it could be an answer.

With a sigh, Spencer runs a hand through his hair. “Sort of.” When he turns back to you and sees your questioning look, he takes a deep breath and begins his explanation. “There’s a woman. She’s in prison, but she’s been messing with me, even from there. I think she wants to drag you into this. I’m so sorry,” he says softly, his tone giving away that he’s being completely honest. 

It’s hard to look at him after this, so you sit on the couch and wait for him to do the same. Once he sits next to you, keeping a comfortable distance not to upset you, you can’t help but fidget with the zip of your leather jacket. “Are you in danger?” 

“I’m more worried about you,” is all he says in response. When you turn to look at him, he gulps. “I’m going to take you home so you can pack a few things, then you’ll have to come back with me. I’ll protect you, okay? I’ll figure this out,” he promises as his hand slowly inches closer to yours. 

You force yourself to look at him, your brain in overdrive as you try to figure out if you should trust him or not. This is the man you once loved more than anything, the one you had a family with, and the very same person your family loved so much. But he has changed. You can’t quite put a finger on it, but the feeling’s there, and you can’t shake it off. Your eyes flick back at the jumpsuit on the table, glued to the damn thing as if it was calling out your name, and the words spill out before you could stop yourself. 

“You still have photos of her, don’t you?” you ask quietly. 

“Of course I do.” When you turn to him, he’s watching you with a slightly tilted head. “You don’t?”

“No. I wanted to throw them away, I thought getting rid of them would help me move on, but my parents kept them, so…” 

Spencer suddenly takes your hand, gently squeezing it in quiet reassurance. Losing your daughter hurt him just as much, maybe even more, which is why someone using the day she died against him must be a real hard punch in the gut. You can’t help but remember the nights he spent by her crib, telling her stories until he dozed off too. But your little family fell apart when she got sick, and no matter how good the doctors were, there was nothing they could do to save her. You both blamed yourselves, and grief eventually led to the two of you drifting away from each other. 

He kisses the back of your hand to pull you out of your thoughts, flashing a sad smile at you when your eyes meet. “I kept her stuff in a storage unit. I know I said I gave them away, but I couldn’t. Guess this one fell into the wrong hands,” he explains, guilt filling his voice. Even though he falls silent, you can see the wheels turning in his head. “Just bear with me until I put an end to this, okay? I only want the best for you, you know that, don’t you?” When you nod, he leans down to place a soft kiss on your forehead. “Alright, let’s go get your things.”

“Spence?” With a questioning hum, he looks down at you, his hand still holding yours, ready to pull you up. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” 

“Saying no to couples therapy. I didn’t fight for our relationship hard enough. You deserved better,” you tell him with an apologetic look. 

Spencer suddenly crouches to be more or less on eye level with you. “We can still fix things, just say the word,” he assures you with a smile, his thumb gently caressing your skin. “I will always love you, no matter what. In fact, thinking about you helped me a lot while I was in prison.”

This freezes your brain temporarily. “You were in what?”

He shakes his head a little as he stands up. “Long story, but I’ll tell you once we get back,” he says, finally managing to pull you up too. 

The two of you just stand there in silence for a short while, and you can’t help but wonder why you gave up that easily. Sure, the grief was bad, but you loved him so much, and you could have helped each other move on. Instead, you chose to be alone, hoping falling back into the steady, boring rhythm of your life would make things right. It didn’t. You’re miserable, still suffering from the loss of your daughter, and being in Spencer’s company is a painful reminder of that. But maybe, just maybe, this sick bastard who’s playing their sick little games with him might bring you closer to each other again.

[rabotimagines]

"Toping you when they usually bottom" GN BOT Reader x Jazz, Prowl, Thundercracker, Soundwave

Summary: First time the bots top you when you usually top them.

Warnings: None.

Genere/Theme: Smut 🔞 MDNI

G1 characters: Jazz, Prowl, Thundercracker, Soundwave.

Notes: Reader bottoms for the first time. Bot reader so valve/spike used.

Pronouns: You, your, yours.

Jazz is a true no leaning switch himself. He expertly folds to fit his partners likes and wants. Jazz isn't too fixated on topping or bottoming, really. He just wants to have fun and share the moments with you. So he's not exactly bemoaning or anything about not topping you yet. ... But it's his creation day, and you ask him if he wanted anything particular, and he leans real close to you, smiles, and asks, "Let me eat your valve out?" Which leads to his current residence between your thighs, with him working you through your third overload of the night with his glossia. Jazz always gives oral like he's on a mission, and tonight wasn't any different. Jazz loves making you fall apart for him. Shame you didn't let him do it more often. He pulls away when you stop shaking from overload number three. "Let me just say... I love my gift." Jazz smiles easy and nuzzles his cheek against your inner thigh.

"Jazz -" the pitch in your tone makes him pause to make proper optical contact with you. Your expression was serious with no room for argument. Jazz fully expects you to tap out for the night when the last thing he expects sounds out of you. "Spike me."

Jazz's jaw sets, and he's on his pedes at a startling speed. "Oh baby can do-" his array pops opens and his spike pressurizes properly. He savors the sight of your dripping valve under his spike before sliding home easily due to how aroused you were. "Frag- Really spoiling me today, huh?" Jazz huffed a laugh, enjoying how you felt fluttering around him. Jazz doesn't wait to start thrusting in lazy but deep motions. Making sure to bottom out every time he did so. Jazz hoists your pedes up onto his pauldrons and traps you against him and his berth.

Jazz's pace picks up till he overloads with a sharp invent. Jazz groans at the feeling of spilling inside you, his hips lazily rolling against yours through it.

You're both venting against one another until Jazz eventually picks up his pace again. Hips soon snapping like they had been before. You jerk and grasp at Jazz's armor tight, your optics are deliciously bright while huffs and gasps slipped outta you. Valve still taking his spike so nicely. "Got two more overloads to go! Need to- catch up with you, Sweetspark." Course Jazz was planning on catching up again if he got you to overload again- and again-

It was unlikely, but Jazz really hopes he breaks before you do.

-

With Prowl, it's a touch- complicated. You didn't really "Top" so to speak before this point- but neither had he. Prowl didn't like losing control on the battlefield or in the berth. You just so happened to be the same. So you'd both begun with servo and mouth activities, with most times it leading to hot and heavy frottage. Most often, it would end with you both usually rutting against one another like a pair of aggressive cyber hounds. Yes, Prowl would like to overload in your valve, but he also wasn't exactly thrilled at the prospect of the opposite. So Prowl knew he had no right to ask you to do the same. You found a middle ground regardless, and it worked.

Prowl didn't count on it occurring, but it does end up happening when you're grinding against one another again. Both of your servos are over each other's spikes, jerking up and down at a steady pace. Prowl is already close to his own overload- only you end up releasing your own spike and shift, pushing your hips upwards. Prowl hissed in a vent and glanced down at where the head of his spike was now slotting against the folds of your valve. When he glances back up he was met by your bright optics  "Prowl, if you don't spike me right now I'm leaving-" Prowls optics widen and he grasps at your armor and snaps his hips harshly. His spike bottoming out inside you with a gasp. Prowl vents harsh at the sensation of your valve wrapped around him.

Prowl frags you harsh against the berth, his chassis coming down and pressing hard against your own. Much too pent up from thinking he'd never be inside your valve like this and already much too close to overloading. Your servos grasp tight on the base of his doorwings, and Prowl groans. His hips buck harder and harder, trying to savor the hot rush it is. Eventually, you squeeze his doorwings, and Prowl overloads only to keep fragging you both right through it. His transfluid makes a mess of your inner thighs in the process. Until Prowl eventually bottoms out inside you and stilled. Prowl began huffing in panted vents.

He pulled back a touch, the sound of you huffing brings his optics back to your cobalt tinted faceplate. The after effects of a hardy valve overload are still obviously rocking through your frame.

Maybe Prowl could... offer to return the favor. Especially if it raised the chance of you doing the same afterward.

-

Thundercracker kinda does mind, but he also doesn't know how to bring it up. He didn't hate bottoming or anything he just really wants to top you more- or at all. He's got a spike, and he wants to frag you into the dirt with it. The problem is Thundercracker isn't going to say that, and he doesn't exactly know what he's supposed to say about it. So he elects he'll say something when he finds the chance. You're in Thundercrackers lap, glossia in his mouth with your modesty panels pulled back, grinding on one another. And in the heat of it, Thundercracker lifts your hips and drags the length of his spike across the opening of your valve. Your valve lubricant coats his spike, and he gasps at the feeling.

You only jolt and break away to stare down, and Thundercracker lately realizes what he'd just done. But this was the perfect chance to ask, right?

Thundercracker grabs your hips and tentatively lines his spike up with your valve. "Can I?" He asks stupidly, and Thundercracker is immediately regretting how he'd asked that. Why did he do that- Before he can rip into himself mentally, you wordlessly grabbed his pauldrons and started lowering your valve on his spike- and Oh Pit! He's inside you now- Thundercracker hissed a vent at the sensation of you dropping down his length. Digits grasped tight on your hip armor when you sat back in his lap, spike now fully inside you. Oh, you feel Perfect- slag. You squeezing down on him every time you vented made Thundercracker feel hazy.

Your digits abruptly dig into the sensitive base of his wings and Thundercracker keens and spills inside you. Thundercracker groans and ruts against you in short motions through his own overload. Thundercracker can feel his optics brighten fast and harshly in mortification when realization sets in. You're staring at where his own transfluid is now spilling down into Thundercrackers lap. Thundercracker opens his mouth to apologize, but all that comes out is a sharp grunt when you grind down in Thundercrackers' lap. Thundercrackers digits dig hard enough in your own waist the metal wants to try to give and you still. Thundercracker huffs and makes optic contact with you. "Wanna overload in me again?" You casually ask, apparently much too forgiving for Thundercracker.

Thundercracker nods fast a quick. "Yes." Sounding out of him, very glad you were giving him a chance to redeem himself. He genuinely did not know what he'd do with himself if that was his one experience with your valve.

Here's to hoping (and praying) he didn't frag up round two.

-

Soundwave is a true verse normally. But he's frankly so tired from war efforts that he barely has the energy to interface, let alone top most days. He doesn't have a problem indulging you with his valve when he's feeling lazy but still wants to sexually satisfy you. Yes, Soundwave would like to spike you more often or once even. But the days and battles take up most of his energy and free time. One day, you have a mission, and it ends with Soundwave pissed after stupid battlefield decisions that made the entire battle drag on much longer than needed. You were in group A and had a much easier time than Soundwaves group B during the mission. He enters his habsuite to find you already laying face down on his berth, having let yourself in.

Soundwave walks over and doesn't hesitate to straddle, and full-on shoves his faceplate flat on the back of your chassis. Eventually, his servos start wandering with his earlier frustrations feeding his continued touches. Soundwave skipped tracing and moved to fondling and pulling on your frame. Soundwave sees your modesty panel where your valve would be visible to him. he's digging his digits into your hips already. "Permission to spike?" You grant him it and pull your array back, and Soundwave doesn't hesitate to spike you then and there.

Soundwave would usually take his time to savor you or this, but Soundwaves frustrated. And you at least seem content taking that frustration for him. He'll have to reward you later for it, but right now, he's slamming himself into your valve from behind over and over again. "Soundwave- spike!" you muttered and- Ah- he sees. Your spike can't pressurize right with you flat on his berth. Soundwave pulls your hips up a touch, and your spike pressurizes instantly. Soundwave then snaps his hips hard enough to frag you back flat on his berth. Your spinal strut arched and your servos gripped at his berth for some type of purchase. You squeeze down on him, and Soundwave realizes he's about to overload. Soundwaves servos abandon your thighs, and he reaches over further to press his digits over your mouth.

Soundwave groans deep when you wordlessly take two of his digits in and start sucking. Your glossia laps along them with a hum and Soundwave bottoms out and promptly overloads inside you. You overload right after him, which makes Soundwave only press you harder into his berth. Your valve is twitching around his spike length as you come down from both your combined post overload high. You huff when Soundwave pulls his now oral lubricant soaked digits out of your mouth.

Soundwave might have to adjust his schedule and make the time so he can spike you again like this.

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Ok hear me out…Drunk Karaoke, with any girls *ahem M16 ahem*, where their s/o gets a little too tipsy and starts singing to them when s/o’s favourite song comes on

I’m sorry I’ve been playing payday2 so much and have unironically been singing this banger while doing chores -

I will give you my all, pretty baby, I'll come whenever you call for me, baby, yeah

I will give you the best of me

The best of me, The best of me

(H:SR) Fugue and Serval's S/O getting drunk and singing Karaoke

Alternative Titles: Like a Butterfly/TONIGHT

You know, I was actually listening to a song that made me think of Fugue, and this gives me the perfect excuse. Girl deserves to laugh anyway with what she's been through. Fugue gets the all star treatment with a short fic since this particular brainworm has taken hold of me for the last few days for her specifically. Meanwhile, I'll be twisting the ask a little and having Serval be the lead singer, but you'll see the reason for that. Content: Yakuza Karaoke Jumpscares, Funny for Fugue, Feels for Serval Word Count for Fugue's Part: 1.4k

Fugue and S/O took a while to reconnect, considering all that had happened. It was not a smooth transition, and to imply otherwise would be a bold-faced lie.

But through some perseverance from both parties, things had gotten to some sense of normalcy again. Quiet moments of getting to drink tea with S/O, watching the people stroll by got her to remember in flashes of what she loves.

And more importantly, who she loves as well. Though, tonight was a bit different. Instead of tea, S/O opted to drink something a bit more alcholic.

And for some odd reason, alarms began ringing in Fugue's head, but she couldn't quite place why. Instead of intervening, she decided to let S/O drink and find out for herself why this premonition came to her.

Only to realize that even in her current state, her past self was warning her: For the love of god, do NOT LET S/O DRINK.

A warning that came too late, she feared.

(S/O) HIC! "Ah! Now THAT hits the spot!"

Fugue ears slightly recoiled at their volume, a foreboding sense of deja vu washing over her.

(Fugue) "I-I see...How often did we go drinking together, out of curiousity?"

S/O turned to face their lover, slightly off balance and red in the face as they frowned, struggling to remember.

(S/O) "Hmmmmm....Iunno. We just drank some tea and stuff. You never let me drink, usually."

(Fugue) I think I'm beginning to remember why.

Fugue was only lost in her thoughts for a moment longer before S/O smiled at her, causing to become slightly flustered under their attention.

(Fugue) "S/O?"

(S/O) "You're so beautiful..."

The way they had said it sounded like it took every fiber of their being to say it correctly, a fact that made Fugue giggle, her own affection barely being contained by her smile.

(Fugue) "Always the charmer, I see.~"

Fugue finishes the rest of her tea before moving over to help S/O up, effortlessly dragging them to stand as one arm was looped around her neck.

...Strange. She can't help but feel like this used to be harder to do. Oh well, this is probably the one of the few things she can't complain that's different now.

Before she can even take a single step, she immediately gets startled by S/O who suddenly stands upright on their own.

(S/O) "I WANT TO SING WITH YOU!"

(Fugue) "...W-Wha-?"

They grab her shoulders gently, yet firm enough that causes her to freeze in place as her tail and ears shoot up in surprise.

(S/O) hic! "We should sing the night away with some music!"

(Fugue) "Karaoke? Well, I suppose there are a few bars here that host-"

(S/O) "GREAT, LET'S GO!"

(Fugue) "W-WAH?!"

Getting dragged along to one of the nearby bars in the Loufou, S/O rented a room to themselves, with S/O excitedly sitting down and taking a peek through the song list.

Fugue meanwhile felt like she was suddenly in over her head. She knew that she had a nice voice, but enough to sing?

Regardless of what kind of singing voice she possessed, S/O was not going to let her dwell on it.

(S/O) "Okay, you can take the lead and I'll be your backup vocals!"

(Fugue) "You want me to be the lead singer? I think you should-"

(S/O) "NAH!"

S/O flopped their head onto her lap, making her jump slightly.

(S/O) "I'm...a little gone right now...Besides, this song I wanna hear your voice, it's my favorite!"

Fugue took the song list from S/O and examined the title.

(Fugue) "Like a Butterfly?"

She tried scrounging whatever scrap of memory was in her head, and nothing came up, though the name didn't exactly stir anything either. As if sensing her thoughts, S/O grabbed the list back and put it on the Karaoke Machine.

(S/O) "I...didn't really tell you about this song. It's a bit of a guilty pleasure, to be honest!"

That at least made her feel a little better, fearing that she was forgetting yet another important memory, and instead just something-

...Wait, why was S/O embarrassed to show this to her?

(S/O) "I always sing the rap parts by myself, but now I have you to sing the lady's part!"

Drunk rapping? Oh boy.

(Fugue) "Well...I'll give it my best shot...!"

(S/O) "Great, we have all night!"

Well, at least this night would be something to remember, for better or worse.

[Song: Like a Butterfly]

Fugue swayed from side to side as the beat of the song kicked in, meanwhile S/O was bobbing their head violently, grabbing their microphone and shouting with their entire heart as their part came first.

(S/O) "BE REBORN! CLIMB OUT OF HELL, BORN AGAIN! LET'S FLY HIGH LIKE A BUTTERFLY!"

Fugue smiled and grabbed her own microphone, singing timidly in comparison to S/O's manic energy.

(Fugue) "It's drowning in its greed, the wicked trap was sprung, Tangled in the threads of its deeds!"

From the lyrics alone, Fugue could tell that she would like this song as well.

(S/O) "TANGLED IN ITS CRIMES!"

Fugue tapped her foot as the song got faster, being infected by S/O's energy, her eyes on them the entire time as both of them smiled, her voice growing louder as she sang her next part.

(Fugue) "Like fate scoops up a fish, struggling in a net Its brittle wings are torn by the tears as it trembles in cold sweat!" (S/O) "YOU TORE YOUR WINGS NOW CRY!"

S/O was clapping to the rhythm, getting Fugue more into the feel and just having fun at this point, neither of them particularly caring if they were great. While Fugue's voice was bewitching, S/O's voice came crashing like a fingernail to chalkboard.

(Fugue) "The spider comes, a thirst in its eyes-" (S/O) "A BUTTERFLY WITH NO WINGS IS A MOTH IN THE FLAME! JUST A RAT ON THE FLOOR WITH ANOTHER NAME!"

Subconsciously, Fugue could tell why S/O sang this alone as the rapping was ridiculous, but she could not deny that this was really fun to sing along to with another person, lover or otherwise.

(Fugue) "The venomous fangs sink into the soul-" (S/O) "THIS WORLD IS DEAD, NO LIGHT LEFT TO FIND! IT'S TOO LATE-"

Fugue joined S/O in standing up, both of them swaying to the beat, though S/O's was far more aggressive as they sang their parts like they were rapping on stage, something that made her almost break down laughing.

(Fugue) "Too late now, to mourn it's punctured wings, to take to the sky!" (S/O) "TAKE TO THE SKY!"

With any former hesitation gone, Fugue smiled as she just enjoyed the rest of the song with her lover enthusiastically cheering her on by remaining on backup vocals.

If only it could be, just one more time (TO THE BITTER END IN OVERDRIVE!) Engrave the beat, flap your wings 'til you feel you are complete (FLY, HIGH!) Oh you tragic butterfly Despairing, craving it, that singular last ray of light still shining down on bitter wings (BE REBORN, CLIMB OUT OF HELL BORN AGAIN! LET'S FLY HIGH LIKE A BUTTERFLY! YOU'VE DREAMED LONG OF THIS DAY, DREAM AGAIN!) So fly high again (AND FLY HIGH LIKE A BUTTERFLY!)

Like a butterfly (TO THE BITTER END OVERDRIVE,BURNING OUT IN AN ENDLESS DRIVE!) Soaring in the sky like a butterfly (TO THE BITTER END OVERDRIVE, BURNING OUT IN AN ENDLESS DRIVE- OH YEAAAAAAAAAH!)

Fugue couldn't hold back her laughter anymore, doubly so when S/O finished off the song.

(S/O) "FLY LIKE A BEAUTIFUL BUTTERFLY, FLY LIKE A BEAUTIFUL BUTTERFLY!"

Finally catching her breath, Fugue sat back down, still laughing as S/O cheered, flopping down next to her and struggling to catch theirs.

(S/O) "Like the song?"

(Fugue) "Hm, not my usual style admittedly but...I do resonate with the lyrics."

(S/O) "Hm...? Why's that?"

...Oh right, they were still drunk. As if their "singing" wasn't reminder enough. But, honestly just something as simple as singing a dumb song was enough to lighten her spirit, and though it didn't call any particular memory to mind, it was something like this that reminded why 'Tingyun' fell in love with S/O in the first place.

Though, she figured she'd better take the song's advice and start focusing on new memories, rather than any old one for now.

(Fugue) "Well, what other songs do you have for us?"

Seeing their eyes glimmer at that, S/O began rushing through the song list for another one, all the while Fugue's smile grew even bigger.

(S/O) "SERVAAAAAAL!"

Serval was nearly glomped by S/O, causing her to laugh and set her drink far away from the edge of the table.

(Serval) "Oof, hey! Think ya had enough?"

From their breath and flushed face, that answer was most definitely a-

(S/O) "Heh, nope!"

S/O rested their head on her shoulder, almost threatening to yank her off.

(S/O) "I want to sing a song with you!"

(Serval) "Hm, is that right?"

After a few hiccups and almost losing their balance, they nodded aggressively.

As funny as it would be to have their drunk ass sing some rock and roll...She had a different idea in mind.

(Serval) "I'll cut you a better deal, you get to hear a song I've been working on by myself! An exclusive sneak peek!"

S/O's eyes glowed and they stumbled onto a nearby chair.

(S/O) "Y-Yeah! I wanna hear it!"

Though Serval was smiling, there was a hint of sadness in it.

That hint being big enough for S/O to catch onto it, even when alcohol was scrambling their senses.

(S/O) "...Babe, something wrong?"

Serval laughed at the petname and shook her head, uncharacteristically becoming shy as her finger tapped the table.

(Serval) "Not really just...This song isn't my usual kinda style, ya know? Don't wanna bore you to death with it."

(S/O) "Nothing you could share to me could ever be boring! I...just might pass out from the alcohol is all."

Serval rolled her eyes.

(Serval) "Gee, that makes me feel better."

(S/O) "Just shut up and grab your guitar already!"

Serval took a deep breath and grabbed her guitar and hooked up her phone to play the other instrumental parts she had done herself, looking at S/O, and then to the ceiling and closing her eyes.

(Serval) "I've kept this one hidden for a while, thought it might be a bit too personal but...Eh, what the heck. This one goes out to...a friend now gone."

S/O's smile grew more somber at that, having an inkling of who she was talking about.

[Song: Tonight -restart from this night-]

Serval's pick began strumming along the strings of her guitar, as she began singing, her tone growing much more heartfelt.

(Serval) "Back in the day, I thought I was strong, that I was the one who could right every wrong, Years roll on by, time does what it does, so hard to hold on to the people we love."

Serval's foot was tapping in rhythm, her eyes catching a glance at S/O, their hand doing the same. Smiling softly at that, she continued her song.

(Serval) "I've lost count of the days, And though I never stop thinking of you, We have gone our separate ways-"

Serval's mind rushed back with memories, where S/O was sitting, Cocolia was there, hanging off every word she was singing with a bright smile.

And that made Serval forget entirely about her mini stage-fright, singing as if there was no audience at all and simply speaking from the heart now.

So, tonight, let's start again From this night, rewrite the way it ends You and I would laugh And sing all night like we'd always meant

Part of her wondered if the Cocolia she knew would poke fun at her, thinking this song was a bit too sappy for what Serval usually did.

Would this song have even moved the Supreme Guardian at all?

Maybe. Serval would never know.

So, tonight, you'll find me there The nights we shared in places drinks would flow And the sun never rose And life meant living the life we chose

If I could relive the moment we drifted apart I'd right every wrong for you Whatever life asks from me, I will do Just to see you smile and waste a night with you

Serval closed out the song with a final strum, letting the instrumentals finish it out.

After opening her eyes again, she saw S/O with tears welling in their eyes, rubbing them aggressively with their sleeves.

The sight got her to laugh a little, despite the fact a part of her felt like tearing up as well.

(S/O) "That...song is beautiful! Why don't you play that?!"

(Serval) "Hah...maybe someday, but like I said, I'm still working out some little tidbits here and there on it."

(S/O) "Then...Then I can sing it instead!"

That had Serval suddenly burst into laughter, nearly dropping her guitar.

(Serval) "Maybe when I can't smell the drink you had all the way from here, I'll consider it!"

Serval shook her head and sat next to S/O, wiping away the tear on their cheek with her thumb.

(Serval) "How 'bout a different song huh? I can play it for ya, and you can scream like an idiot!"

(S/O) "Hey!"

Smiling at their pout, S/O was doing a good job of lifting her spirits already. Thanks to them, and many others, she wouldn't stay in the past.

...But, she'd be lying if she said she wouldn't want her best friend back.

Maybe for S/O, and the Cocolia she knew, she'd play that song for a real audience someday.

...But not tonight.

[quitealotofsodapop]

I also mentioned this before in DMs, but I want to point something out.

Wukong gave Macaque a peach popsicle after the fight with Azure. At this point into their relationship, they're only jsut to the point of beginning to reconcile, not quite trusting each other yet, but the first thing Wukong does is give Macaque a peach flavored treat. Is this because he's just extending an olive branch? Did he somehow get his hands on more immortal peaches and made modern treats out of them to make it so they last longer for his friend who needs to regularly invest them to manage his chronic sickness? A little bit of both?

Ref.

Wukong 100% planted a divine peach tree or two on FFM from whatever pits he had left over.

I *love* the idea that when Wukong realised his bestie-turned-rival was alive again, he started thinking of ways to add the Peaches of Immortality to modern day snacks/sweets so Mac wouldn't have to wait potentially months or even centuries for a new dose.

In the lore; the special Life-Extending Peach trees in the Celestial Realm supposedly only fruit every 3,000 years (300 celestial years?), and two other variants that take 6,000 (makes you light as air and youthful) and 9,000 (super boosted first variant) years respectively. This is why so much of the harvest is converted into Peach Wine that the immortals can sup on throughout the orchard's fallow season. And why the Peach Banquet is so important to the Queen Mother. There *is* a possibility that there are other sections of the royal orchard that were planted at different times to make the waits a little shorter tho. Irl peach trees take about 3-4 years to grow to fruiting sizes, so the Immortal Peaches could take a few hundred years to sprout anything on Earth - unless someone crossbred them with local peach trees to shorten the amount of time needed.

Also! Hilarious thing I discovered while looking up peaches; the specific trees Wukong is assigned to as an Peach Orchard Attendant are called "Pan Tao/Coiled Peaches" aka "Doughnut/Saturn Peaches"! My fave variant! Ironically in chinese mythos "Saturn" is an earthquake star god - A Stone/Earth Monkey to look after the Earth God's Peaches.

Wukong seems like the sort of guy to plan way ahead when it comes to his fave fruit. Even as a little monkey I could see him eating a Peach of Immortality and deciding to plant the pit or graft a few sticks onto a FFM tree so those on earth could enjoy them. The grafting (basically Frankenstein-ing a divine peach fruiting branch onto a normal peach tree) in particular would produce a tree with hybrid fruit!

The hybrid fruit could act like a "lower dosage" for Macaque's condition, and still treat him albeit requiring more frequent consumption.

And with Wukong's special interest in medicine and herbalism; why stop there?

He could use the little islands around the archipelago for breeding new variants of peaches and other prunus fruits he can graft on to. He'd be more interested in the medicinal/healing properties than the "makes you live for hundreds of years" part, so he could accidentally make an entirely new breed of Peach that massively boosts physical health/treat rare illnesses, but also be safe for anyone not wanting the burden of living so long.

In Wukong's mind, if he could no longer treat Macaque, then he would help treat he entire world to the medicinal properties once exclusive to the Celestials.

Note: in the events of the AU, Heaven def finds out. Mostly because Wukong accidentally info-dumps during his appointments/check-ins with Lao Tzu + Nezha finds one of the FFM orchards during his bodyguard duty of the monkeys.

Xiwangmu is willing to let the peach theft be bygones IF... Wukong gives her a sapling or two for her personal orchard. The variants he's managed to cultivate are super tasty after all, and Lao Tzu wants one for his own medicinal research.

(We ended up calling them Vitality Peaches in the dms. XD)

Wukong wouldn't stop at making wine from his peach orchard; he'd make jams, desserts, canned peaches, dehydrated jellies, dried peach crisps, persipan/marizpan from the kernels, vitamin gummies, and ofc Popsicles from the juices and pulp. The Brotherhood could have eaten entire dishes made with the stuff and not realised it!

So when he confirms that Macaque is back home for good? He busting out the modern treats. He remembers Macaque not caring for the texture of ripe peaches, so a nice cooling popsicle is an easy thing to pack for the beach party without making it obvious that Wukong wants Mac to start having some again.

If Macaque learns that the peach and plum products he's been eating are in fact medicinal, Wukong can easily bluff and say the shadow monkey's immune system is 1300 years out of date and that he'd rather not have Macaque get super-sick from a modern sniffle.

Macaque secretly thinks the concern is sweet, but he really doesn't like being tricked into taking medicine. Just ask him next time okay Peaches?

Macaque will eventually figure out his condition from some digging around and his own summons to the Underworld to review his Draft Scroll. And he will be pissed that Wukong didn't tell him. Then he will hug him.

I ended up on a peach rabbit-hole while writing this as you can see.

[comradeboyhalo]

i find the differences between skephalo and foolhalo so fascinating, because, while they both fundamentally understand bad as a person, skeppy is into it, meanwhile with foolish…well, it’s a bit more complicated than that. 

one of the crowning factors that make landduo so fun is the fact that there’s a degree of unrequitedness to it. foolish is less aggressive towards bad (it’s very rare that foolish bites back in general), whereas bad is more obsessive over foolish. foolish understands bad’s love language, but does he share it? well, he shares an immortal’s moral code - he views death in a more lax light, he misunderstands how other people view amoral actions (see: pac and mike’s kidnapping), and he generally lives his life, like bad, with the acceptance that mortals die quick. and it's in this understanding that we get the quintessential landduo dynamic: they can try to kill each other for all eternity, because that's just how it is. but that is not showing love, for foolish.

we see foolish's idea of romance in the way he treats vegetta. they take on a much more conventional romantic relationship, something that seems rather impossible for bad. foolish cherishes vegetta's gifts, he builds in his honor, they have complete trust in one another. they would never try to kill each other.

meanwhile skeppy? skeppy shares bad’s love language. skeppy routinely kills bad every valentine’s day. skeppy’s favorite hobby is terrorizing bad until he has a mental breakdown. skeppy teamed up with foolish, just to psychologically torture bad.

skeppy takes that foolhalo clash and turns it not into rivalry, but a married couple’s bickering. they'll try to kill each other, yet will also turn on anyone seriously threatening the other. they're both just fully in it together, regardless of anything (unless, of course, there's an evil egg, in which they will kill each other then the world). skeppy is the only one who speaks bad's love language and wholeheartedly reciprocates it to an equal, loving degree. and they're both so open about this, too. they openly will make their devotion to each other clear, all while knowing an argument waits right around the corner.

(and as an aside: this makes it especially hilarious how both bad and skeppy get offended and hurt when the other is mean to them. hypocrites. but it's all part of the dynamic for them).