#all i know is that i am FALLING APART ABOUT IT

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

𝗪𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝗔𝗰𝗰𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗕𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗨𝗽 𝗮𝗻 𝗜𝗻𝘀𝗲𝗰𝘂𝗿𝗶𝘁𝘆 | 𝗛𝘆𝘂𝗻𝗴𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗲 𝗣𝘁𝟐

Warnings: None

Hyung Line x Reader. Angst.

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ᗷᗩᑎGᑕᕼᗩᑎ

Days had passed, and the tension between you and Chan grew unbearable.

You had tried contacting him, but he’d buried himself in his work, refusing to answer your calls or texts, and every attempt to approach him in person was met with cold indifference.

It was as if he had sealed himself off from you completely, and the guilt gnawed at your insides like a festering wound.

It wasn’t until one late evening, when you found yourself standing outside the studio again, that you realized something had to give. You couldn’t let things end like this - not over a misunderstanding, not when you cared about him so much.

When you loved him so much.

Pushing open the door, you saw him sitting at the same desk, headphones on, eyes glued to his laptop screen. The music played softly in the background, but the atmosphere was anything but peaceful.

You cleared your throat, and when he didn’t react, you took a deep breath and spoke.

"Chan, please. We need to talk."

For a moment, you thought he was going to ignore you again, but then he pulled off his headphones and glanced over his shoulder. His eyes were tired, and there were dark circles beneath them, evidence of sleepless nights.

"There’s nothing to talk about," he muttered, turning back to his screen.

“Please,” you said, your voice pleading. "Please."

He tensed, when he heard the hurt in your voice, and then sighed, pushing the chair back but not looking at you, his shoulders tense. He turned to you, his brown eyes tired and sad.

"I’m sorry," you began, your voice barely above a whisper. Afraid if you spoke any louder it might shatter.

“I didn’t realize how much you were carrying, and my words...I didn’t mean to make you feel like I don’t see everything you do. Because I do, baby. I see and appreciate everything."

He flinched at your words, but remained silent, his gaze fixed on the floor. You sniffed and wiped the tears you had so miserably failed to keep in. You missed him. Even if only for a few days it felt like eons.

“I know you’re the leader, and I know you have the weight of so much responsibility on your shoulders,” you continued, wiping your eyes, as more tears fell. “But you don’t have to do it all alone. You don’t always have to be strong. I can be strong for you too if you just ask.”

You hiccup, trying to control your shaky voice. "I want you to ask I don't want you to hurt anymore. Please...you can ask for help too. You don't always have to take everything on yourself. I only said what I said because I wanted to convey how upset I was seeing you tire yourself out, Chan-I...I don't want you to be tired anymore."

You were furiously wiping at your face, feeling like a child not able to properly convey their emotions.

“You don’t have to carry that burden by yourself. You’re not alone in this. The members, your fans, me...we’re all here for you. Please just ask us. We'll do anything for you.”

Chan's hands fidgeted in his lap. You felt the urge to run into his arms- you selfishly wanted to have him comfort you. When he was the one who needed comfort in this moment.

"I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm sorry. I'm sorry-" You weep. "I miss you, Channie...so much...I don't want you to be mad at me anymore. I'm sorry. I really am..."

For the first time in days, his eyes met yours, and the raw emotion swirling within them took your breath away.

“I’m scared,” he admitted, his voice cracking, muffled by the sleeve of his sweater, which his face was buried in. “I’m scared that if I stop, everything will fall apart. That if I’m not there, something will go wrong, and it’ll be my fault. And that if I ask for help and things go wrong; you'll be to blame when you've done nothing wrong.” His voice was low and sad, and you could tell by the tightness of it he was trying to hold back tears as well.

Your heart ached as you listened to his confession, realizing just how much he had been hiding behind his calm exterior. How he took on stress to make sure any possible stressors wouldn't arise for those he loved and cared for.

"Oh, baby..."

He closed his eyes, his body trembling as the weight of his fears and insecurities finally crashed down around him.

He then looked up at your eyes that mirrored his own.

It seemed like the sadness in yours took his breath away too. Seemed like it shattered all the resolve he had left as he stood up and you launched himself into your arms, pulling him so close that your bodies would have melded together if possible.

You hiccupped out more sobs as you clung to him.

For a moment- a split second he wanted to remain angry, and he resisted -but then he collapsed against you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he buried his face in your shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out, his voice muffled against your shirt. His tears wetting it. “I didn’t mean to push you away. I never mean to do that baby, I'm sorry.”

You held him tighter, tears slipping down your cheeks as you whispered, “It’s okay. I promise.”

You stayed like that for what felt like hours, holding each other in the dimly lit studio as the walls between you slowly crumbled. And in that moment, you knew that no matter how heavy the weight on his shoulders was, you would always be there to help him carry it.

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ᗰIᑎᕼO

The next morning, the air between you and Minho was still thick with tension. You had barely slept, and when you shuffled into the kitchen, you found him already there, making coffee in silence. He didn’t even look up when you entered the room.

You stood there for a moment, unsure of what to say. The weight of last night’s conversation hung between you like an invisible barrier, and every second that passed without him acknowledging you made the distance feel even greater.

He slid over a cup of coffee to you without as much as looking at you, and as you held the warm drink in your hands they began to tremble.

"Minho..." you began, your voice hesitant, unsure how to approach him. “Can we talk?” Your fingers tapped against the cup nervously.

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he took a slow sip of his coffee, his throat working, and eyes fixed on the countertop. For a moment, you wondered if he would ignore you altogether, but then, without turning, he spoke.

“What exactly do you want to talk about?” His voice was flat, and that cold edge you feared had settled firmly in place.

You bit your lip, nervousness and guilt warring inside you. “What I said last night...it came out wrong. I didn’t mean-”

“You think I’m cold,” he interrupted, finally turning to face you. His expression was unreadable, but the hurt in the brown eyes you loved so much was impossible to miss. “It’s fine. I get it. I’ve heard it before. Its nothing to take to heart.”

You shook your head, stepping closer to him. “No, you don’t get it. I don’t think you’re cold. I know you’re not.” Your fingers gripped the cup to the point your hands were hot, and you set the cup down so you wouldn't drop it.

Minho bit his lip now. “Really? Because that’s not what it sounded like last night.”

You took another step toward him, your heart aching at how distant he felt, even when you were standing right in front of him. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I shouldn’t have said that. I didn't mean it al all.”

He looked away, his jaw tightening as he leaned back against the counter. “It’s not about what you said,” he muttered, his voice low as he looked at his coffee. “It’s about the fact that...maybe you’re right. Maybe that’s all people see when they look at me. Thats all they ever say so when you said it- the person I love most in this world...it made it feel...true.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. You could hear the vulnerability in his voice - the fear of being misunderstood, of being seen as something he wasn’t. Because he truly wasn't.

And suddenly, you understood how deeply your careless words had cut him.

You reached out, gently placing your hand on his arm. This time, he didn’t pull away, but his gaze remained fixed on the floor. He set his coffee down as you searched for words to say.

“Love, look at me,” you said softly, your voice trembling. Slowly, his eyes lifted to meet yours, and you could see the storm of emotions swirling beneath the surface. Something sparking when he saw the shine in yours.

“You’re not cold,” you said firmly, holding his gaze. “You're - not cold at all." You swallowed the knot trying to form. "You’re kind. You’re thoughtful. You care about the people around you more than anyone realizes. And maybe you don’t always show it in the way people expect, but that doesn’t mean it’s not there. I see it. All the time.” The knot was relentless and made a home there, your voice breaking slightly.

He stared at you, his expression unreadable, and for a moment, you weren’t sure if your words were getting through. But then, slowly, his shoulders slumped, and the tension seemed to drain out of him. He allowed you to hold his hands.

“It’s just...hard sometimes,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how to be any other way. I'm not cold I just...aren't feelings a precious thing? I don't know how to not be the way I am. It feels normal to be 'serious' and 'cold' like people say. I don't feel that way. I feel loved and loving. I just don't show it off in...big ways...” He swallowed. "Maybe that makes me mean and cold."

Your heart broke at his confession. You had always known Minho to be one who kept his emotions in check, one who always seemed to have everything under control. But now, standing in front of you, he seemed so vulnerable, so...human. Which you had always seen him as.

“You’re not mean or cold,” you said, your voice thick with emotion. You pursed your lips to keep yourself from crying, but it didn't work. “You’re human. It's okay to have different ways of showing emotions and letting people in. I'm sorry I made you feel that way.”

He looked at you, his eyes softening as the walls he’d built around himself began to crumble. “I forgive you, lovely. I was just being petty...I’m sorry I shut you out,” he murmured, his hand reaching up to gently touch your cheek. “I just...didn’t know how to deal with it. I don't want you to ever see me that way.”

You pouted, you bottom lip jutting out as you cried silently, your brows furrowed to try to stop yourself mid cry.

For the first time since last night, a small, genuine smile tugged at the corner of his lips and Minho chuckled quietly. He moved his thumb to your lip and looked at you.

"It's going to get stuck that way, Darling." He kissed them and then pulled you into a hug, his arms wrapping tightly around you as he rested his chin on top of your head, rubbing circles on your back gently as you sniffled into his chest.

“It's okay my love,” he promised softly. “I’m sorry I scared you by ignoring you.” He said guessing the exact reason why you were crying. "Shh, it's okay. It's all going to be okay..." He cooed softly as he rocked you back in forth. "I love you. So much. I love you." He placed a soft kiss on your head, and you buried into him further earning a laugh.

In that moment, everything felt right again. The weight of the misunderstanding lifted, leaving only the warmth of his embrace and the quiet understanding that, no matter how sharp his edges, you would always find a way to soften them.

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ᑕᕼᗩᑎGᗷIᑎ

The next morning, the apartment was eerily quiet. Changbin hadn’t come out of the bedroom since last night, and you had spent the night tossing and turning on the couch, unable to shake the guilt that weighed heavily on your chest.

You knew you had hurt him, but what made it worse was that you hadn’t even realized how deep his insecurities ran. Changbin was always so strong, so confident - but now, you saw the cracks in the armor he wore every day. And it hurt you that you had hurt him.

You took a deep breath, gathering your courage before walking to the bedroom door. You knocked softly, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Changbin?” you called out quietly. “Can I come in?”

There was a long pause before you heard him say, “Come in.”

When you opened the door, you found him sitting on the edge of the bed, his shoulders hunched, his head bowed. He didn’t look up when you entered, and the sight of him like that broke your heart all over again.

You sat down beside him the bed dipping, close but not touching, waiting for him to speak first since it seemed all the words left your mind.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally broke the silence. “I’m sorry for last night,” he said quietly, his voice filled with exhaustion. “I overreacted.” His voice was sad and quiet and you felt the power of the initial guilt amplify tenfold.

You shook your head, the tears threatening to spill making it hard to speak. “No, I’m the one who should apologize. I didn’t mean to make you feel like you weren’t enough. That’s the last thing I would ever want to do, Binnie, please believe me.”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, still not looking at you. “It’s not your fault. I just...I’ve always felt like I have to prove myself, and becoming an idol made that even harder, you know? Like I have to be the best since everyone is watching now. And when you said that...it just hit me in the worst way. Because it's you.”

You nodded, understanding dawning on you. “You’ve always been hard on yourself.”

Changbin let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah, maybe too hard. But I don’t know how to be any other way. I feel like if I stop, if I’m not constantly pushing myself, then...I’ll lose everything. I tried so hard to get.” His eyes met yours.

Your chest tightened at his words. You knew how much he put into his work, how much he cared about being successful, not just for himself, but for everyone around him. But hearing him say it out loud, hearing the fear and vulnerability in his voice - it was almost too much to bear.

“You won’t lose anything, let alone me.” you said softly, reaching out to take his hand. You had noticed the look in his eyes and wanted him to be assured that you would never leave him. “You’re already so much more than enough, baby. You’re talented, hardworking, and you care so much about everyone around you. You don’t need to prove anything to anyone. Especially not me. Or the guys. Or your family. We all see how much you put in everything.”

He finally looked up at you, his eyes filled with emotion. “Sometimes, it feels like no matter how hard I try, it’s never enough. And when you said what you did...it felt like you were confirming it. And you're the...last person I would want to hear the from.” His adam's apple bobbed up and down as he put his forearm to his eyes. "Damn, I didn't want to cry." He mumbled. "Give me a second."

You squeezed his hand and waited for him to collect himself. Once he did you spoke, your voice trembling with emotion. “I’m so sorry I made you feel like that. I never wanted to hurt you. You mean so much to me, and I think you’re incredible just the way you are. More than I deserve, BinBin. Truly.”

Changbin’s expression softened, the tension in his shoulders slowly easing. “I know you didn’t mean it. I was just...in my head. It’s something I’ve been struggling with for a while.”

He let out a long breath, the weight of his insecurities finally surfacing. “I just don’t want to disappoint anyone. Especially you.”

Your heart ached at his words, and you gently cupped his face in your hands, forcing him to meet your gaze. “You could never disappoint me, Changbin. I love you for who you are, not for how hard you work or how much you achieve. You’re enough, just as you are.” You look into his eyes. "You may not be perfect, but everything about you is perfect to me."

His eyes shined, and for a moment, he looked like he was about to break. But instead, he pulled you into a tight embrace, burying his face in your shoulder. You held him close, feeling his body relax against yours as the tension finally melted away.

“I’m sorry I shut you out,” he whispered against your neck. “I just didn’t know how to handle it.” His lips brushed against it softly and you felt a warmth wash over you.

You pressed a kiss to his temple just as gently, your heart swelling with love for him. “It’s okay. I'm sorry as well.”

Changbin pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours. “I'm going to talk to you more about this stuff. I don’t want to keep shutting you out.” He kissed you again, but this time on your lips, and you felt a wetness.

You smiled softly, brushing away stray tears from his cheeks and lips. “I’m always here for you, no matter what. And I mean always baby.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss, as if sealing the promise between you. Then moving into a slow and lazy kisses as he pulled you down onto the bed with him.

You stayed there, cuddled together and kissing until the early afternoon, everything just as perfect as the man beside you.

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ᕼYᑌᑎᒍIᑎ

The hours dragged on painfully after Hyunjin had left you standing in the kitchen. The apartment felt too big, too empty without him, and your mind kept replaying the argument over and over again, picking apart every word you had said, every hurtful implication that had slipped out.

You hadn’t meant to wound him. Whenever you had wounded him, you never did it intentionally. You loved him too much to do that.

You had only wanted to comfort him; to let him know he didn’t have to bear the weight of perfection like he thought he had to. You didn't want him to continue working himself to the bone; making himself tired trying to fit a mold that others wanted to fit him into. But instead, you had used your words to unintentionally cut deeper into the very insecurities he worked so hard to keep hidden.

It was nearing midnight when you finally heard the soft sound of the bedroom door opening. Hyunjin stepped out, his face pale and his eyes red-rimmed from crying. He looked fragile, vulnerable in a way that broke your heart all over again.

“Can we talk?” he asked quietly, his voice so small it made your chest tighten with guilt.

You nodded quickly, standing up from the couch. “Of course. Of course.”

He walked over to you, sitting down on the couch beside you, though there was still a noticeable space between you. Hyunjin seemed hesitant, his fingers nervously playing with the hem of his oversized sweater. He then laid his head into your lap. You hesitantly threaded your fingers through his hair, until he leaned into your touch, letting you do it freely. The silence was thick, heavy with unspoken words and raw emotions.

“I’m sorry for what I said earlier,” he began, his voice shaky. “I didn’t mean to lash out at you. I was...I was scared.”

You blinked, surprised by his confession, your hand pausing. “Scared? Of what?”

Hyunjin swallowed hard, his eyes half lidded as he spoke. “Scared that you see me the same way I see myself. Flawed. Not good enough. I’ve always had this fear...this feeling like I’ll never be able to live up to the version of me that people expect. And when you said what you did, I thought...I thought it was proof that even you felt that way. And I don't want you to feel like that about me. At all.” He whined quietly.

Tears welled up in your eyes again as you listened to him. You had known Hyunjin struggled with self-doubt- struggled with the fact that people only saw him as a pretty face- a perfect face, but hearing him lay it all out like this, so raw and vulnerable, made your heart ache for him.

“I would never think that,” you said softly, reaching out to take his hand with your free one. “You’re everything to me, Hyunjin. And I’m sorry if I made you feel like you weren’t enough, or your weren't fitting the mold others want you to fit. I only said what I did because I hate seeing you push yourself so hard. I want you to be happy. I don't want you to see yourself as flawed. We all are- but how is that any different. I love you. I don't want you to be perfect- I want you to be you.”

He looked up at you then, his eyes filled with so much pain that it made your breath catch in your throat. “But what if I’m not good enough as me?”

Your heart broke at the vulnerability in his voice, and you squeezed his hand tighter, shaking your head, swallowing. “You are more than good enough, Hyunjin. You are so talented, so kind, and you work harder than anyone I’ve ever known. You don’t have to be perfect. Again, I love you for who you are, not who you think you should be.”

Hyunjin’s lower lip trembled, and for a moment, it looked like he might start crying again. But instead, he sat up, wrapping his arms around you and burying his face in the crook of your neck. His grip was tight, almost desperate, as if he was holding onto you for dear life.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered against your skin. “I’m so sorry for pushing you away.”

You held him just as tightly, your own tears falling freely now. “It’s okay. I’m here. I’ll always be here. You don't have to apologize Jinnie...”

For a long time, the two of you sat there in each other’s arms, the weight of the argument finally starting to lift. Hyunjin’s breathing eventually steadied, and you could feel the tension slowly draining from his body as he relaxed into your embrace.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes were still red, but there was a softness in them now, a peace that you hadn’t seen in a long time.

“I’ll try to be better,” he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ll try not to let my insecurities get the best of me.”

You smiled at him, brushing a strand of hair away from his face. “I'll try to be better with my words as well. We’ll work through our issues together. You don’t have to do this alone.” You touched his cheek and smiled.

Hyunjin nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He kissed you gently. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice filled with so much sincerity that it made your heart swell.

“I love you too,” you whispered back, your hands gently cupping his face. “More than anything.”

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@loveyouamory

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[halfwayhearted]

…What Are We? — Pablo Gavi.

Pairing: Pablo Gavi x Fem!Reader

Summary: Four months into your guys’ relationship, the realization that you're not a priority is hitting you harder than you expected. You decide it's time to talk to him about it.

Word Count: 690+

Disclaimer/s — Angst… angst… angst…

A/N: OHHHHHHH YEAHHHHHHHH.

Things between you and Gavi were going… okay.

Okay, because it wasn’t going badly per se, but it definitely wasn’t going, well, good. With him slowly getting back into training and practice, you wouldn’t be able to see him as much, which was fine. He was happy, and you were happy for him.

Though, with that, confirmed one of your doubts: that he would start treating you like you weren’t there. He would simply wake up, eat, get ready, and then leave for hours and hours, only to come back and do nothing but shower and go to sleep.

He just couldn’t bother making any time for you.

And at first, you understood. This was quite literally his passion—something he loved and was finally able to get back into after such a difficult journey. He deserved this. You knew he did.

But after a couple of weeks of silent, empty days and painfully lonely nights, missing the comforting warmth of your boyfriend’s presence, you realized you just couldn’t bear it anymore.

Fortunately, you had managed to secure at least thirty minutes with him, your back turned to him as you prepared a quick and easy breakfast.

Do you just… go for it?

Yes!

“So, I was wondering if you wanted to go out this weekend? It’s been a while since our last dinner date.” The question was met with only silence.

Looking over your shoulder, you felt your smile slowly fade when you saw he was packing up his bag, paying zero attention to you. The usual. You just wanted one weekend with him, to solidify that your relationship would be fine, that this wouldn’t actually break something so, so good.

“Gavi?” You uttered with a frown, taking out a plate and carefully placing the food from the pan onto it. No answer, yet again. “Hey, Pablo, I'm—”

Lifting his head, his gaze falls onto the plate in your hand. He takes a few strides toward you and gently grabs hold of it. “Looks good, thank you.”

Your heart drops. “Did you, uh, hear what I said?”

“This weekend,” he states, “I’ll be busy, I’m sorry.”

Busy. He’ll be busy, of course. Wringing your hands together nervously, you say, “It’s just one night. I thought practice ended early then.”

The man runs a hand through his tousled hair. “It usually depends. Maybe another time, yeah?”

“Right, yeah. Well, that’s what you said last time.” You hadn’t meant to say that. The way he stiffens tells you all you need to know. “I just—I… feel like we aren’t spending a lot of time together lately.”

All he does is stare at you, unsure of what to do or say. You were clearly disappointed. Not in him. He knew that. Just in how things have been. “I know, and I’m sorry. But practice is going really well for me, and I might even have a chance to play soon.”

“I’m happy for you,” you quickly replied. “I am, I promise. I love that you’re finally able to do what you love again. I just don’t want it to ruin this. What we have, you know? I mean, four months, I don’t want that to just, I don’t know, be gone.”

His eyebrows pinch together. “Well, me neither. Listen, I just don’t have time, okay? It’s not you.”

“Why is it so hard to make time? I miss you.” Your voice breaking with defeat. Keep it together.

He breathes out your name and slings his bag over his shoulder, like he couldn’t be bothered to actually stand there and communicate with you. “It’s just hard, that’s it. It’s hard balancing this. I have to go, but we can talk about this later.”

If your heart hadn’t dropped before, it certainly did now. After saying that, he placed a small kiss to your cheek before exiting your apartment.

His breakfast still sat on the table, untouched and now cold, a silent testament to his absence.

You knew ‘later’ wouldn’t come. This was a habit.

There was nothing else you could do about it now. You let out a sigh and slumped into a chair.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated ^_^.

DT(s) — @pedrilcvr ! ౨ৎ

[lemonlover1110]

JJK Characters as Modern Family Characters

Contains: Satoru Gojo, Kento Nanami, Nobara Kugisaki, Megumi Fushiguro, and Yuji Itadori. Plus surprise character;)

*Don't look too much into the relationships. This is simply who fits the role.

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

The Dunphy Household + A bonus character

Satoru Gojo as Phil Dunphy. The “cool dad”, who is a little too permissive. The goofy parent that adores his kids more than anything. Absolutely adores dad jokes and can be a little childish. Still, don’t push him to his edge or he can become extremely scary. Perhaps he’s a little irresponsible, but that’s what makes him the cool dad.

I'm the cool dad, That's my thang. I'm hip, I surf the web, I text. LOL: Laugh out Loud. OMG: Oh My God. WTF: Why The Face.

Kento Nanami as Claire Dunphy. The “bad cop” of the household that keeps everything afloat. Truly without him, the house would fall apart. He sets the rules and makes sure everyone is in control– But in return, they call him bossy. No good deed goes unpunished for Kento Dunphy Nanami

Sweetheart, I would love to be wrong but I don't live with the right people for that…

Nobara Kugisaki as Haley Dunphy. The eldest daughter, who isn’t the smartest in the toolshed (smarter than the youngest for sure), but she’s certainly beautiful, and she knows it! Extremely confident and street smart. Drives her Nanami nuts but he still loves her. Always bickering with her siblings as well. Protected by both her parents, and all her shenanigans are supported by Satoru Gojo himself.

I hate it when people assume things about me that aren't true, like because I'm pretty, I'm stuck up. When people do that to me I’m just like “Shut up, troll. Why am I even talking to you?”

Megumi Fushiguro as Alex Dunphy. He’s the reason why the house hasn’t burned down. Very self reliant because Nanami has enough in his hands, and truly, would Megumi need help? He’s very sarcastic and very often jokes about his siblings' intelligence. But don’t you dare make a joke about them…

To be honest, I had to get out of there. I was exhausted from dumbing it down all day.

Yuji Itadori as Luke Dunphy. Definitely not the smartest in the family, but he’s so adorable! Overly protected by Nanami since he sees that Yuji isn’t the brightest, but Satoru sees the potential in the child. Very goofy and immature like Gojo. Not very book smart or street smart… But he has a certain charm to him!

Maybe that's what I should become when I'm older: A professional medal getter.

BONUS:

Toji Fushiguro as Javier. Do I need to say more?

[natliyy]

drdt 16 spoilers

I need to spitball my thoughts on charwhit. this reads like I know where I’m going but there’s probably going to be very little connections and cohesion and I am NOT good at analysis pls forgive me. my first actual post of course it’s about it drdt LMAOO

A lot of people have noticed how focused whit was on charles in the latest episode, me included. And now I’m thinking.

and I want YOU to think about it too. whit’s go-to for grieving is to not acknowledge it. everything that happened in ep 16, ace about to die, broken monotv, teruko almost dying, levi getting shot and on the brink of death, so many gorey things. it’s all too much to process, so many unexpected things rapidly happening one after another, and you pile that on top of whits grieving method. he needs to laser-focus in on charles, because there’s a lot of blood, and judging by how min’s execution was, there should probably be more soon. it gives him something to do.

and now this is the part where I Get Confused. And a little Concerned. And things start Falling Apart. triple whammy.

teruko has a machine gun aimed at her. she’s saying what might possibly be her last words, and everyone’s telling her GET OUT OF THE WAY??? HIDE?? (even ARTURO. sounded thoroughly panicked. this isn’t about him but I have thoughts on him too) and you know the weird part? whit likes teruko. he wants to see her smile. he apologizes, and jokes, and knows she doesn’t have to close off her heart the way charles did. but did he say anything to teruko during her execution?

NO?? ABSOLUTELY DID NOT? he says “Charles, stop talking and cover your eyes!” which. Sure. Okay. charles has a pretty strong attachment to teruko. he genuinely likes her. that machine gun would’ve reduced her to bloody mass. he’s gonna be borderline hysterical. like I get it? but dude teruko is about to DIE. you want her to be your friend. I hold some acknowledgement towards mm whit theory but I really think it’s too early for me to believe in that, yet at the same time, if he didn’t call out, didn’t say a word to her, did he like… know she wouldn’t have died? already known how her luck works? I don’t know…

and now we cut to levi getting shot. And this is the part where things start getting more insane with me for no damn reason. there’s blood everywhere, and charles is starting to break down. and you know what whit says?

Hey, dude? What the HELL???

The smell of blood is really strong. Even though I told him not to look, he still…

the choice of words is really messing me up. “Even though I told him.” whit telling charles to cover his eyes was lowk the most forceful we’ve heard him so far. I really can’t decipher this, but I will rewind a little to convey why this line made my skin crawl so much.

in trial 1, whit was pretty damn convincing to the audience. “He’s my friend, of course I’ll argue for his sake!” and telling people to lay off of charles… it was really sweet. very considerate and compassionate.

except in chapter 2, he doubles down. in ep 2, he says something along the lines of, “Oh, I did say he was my friend, didn’t I? Well, that was a total lie! I only said it to make people believe me! But I think he took it to heart, or thinks he owes me…? So, yeah, I’ve decided we’re friends.”

…………. okay my thoughts r falling apart it’s 4 am let me try to think of connecting this somehow

whit seems to know charles is dependant on him. whit also has a history of avoidance and ignoring things that bother him. and let me make it clear, I don’t think these two r some ultra toxic relationship at all. I’m trying to pinpoint their flaws and predict where their relationship will go.

it’s kind of funny? imagine the ultimate matchmaker with commitment issues. though it’s not too far, considering how isolated his childhood probably was.

anyways, I feel like this is all setting up for a shift in dynamic in chapter 3. which is where I get to the part I really want to say: if charwhit’s relationship deteriorates due to Charles’ dependance and Whit staying subtlety dismissive and avoidant, I will be amazed. What seems to be the most sturdy relationship in the series crumbling due to the killing game wearing down on their compatibility is a writing choice that would send me to cloud nine, I think. we know DRDTdev has been subverting troupes since chapter 1. the “tragedy” of this relationship being them growing more unhealthy due to their problems, rather than one of them dying would be so. How can I even articulate it?

although, if whit’s prediction of “Charles Cuevas, dead at 3” comes true, I will simply reach into the screen and strangle him. anyways, that’s all I got. enjoy my braindump maybe

[the-travelling-witch]

𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐑𝐄

summary: coming home after a stressful week, you're practically dead on your feet and ready to fall asleep then and there. luckily, your boyfriend's got you covered.

pairing: tattoo artist! scara x gn! reader

a/n: fluff/slice of life; betcha didn't see this one coming, contrary to popular belief this au is still alive; at the request of many, here is more soft modern au scara (not proofread bc it's almost 3 am and we don't question that)

modern au masterlist || genshin masterlist

With heavy feet you dragged yourself up the stairs to your apartment, hand coming up to cover a yawn every other step. Your week had been a stressful one, leaving you with little time for chores, hobbies or seeing your boyfriend, and you were just about ready to fall into bed immediately.

When you cracked open the door, the first thing you noticed was the light coming from the living room and kitchen. Did you leave them on this morning? Crap, that wouldn’t help your electricity bills.

But then you also heard shuffling and the clatter of plates and cutlery, which caught your attention. Not expecting an intruder to make themselves at home in your kitchen, you calmly kicked off your shoes, expecting to be met with the sight of an unmistakable bob cut and familiar silver piercings working away on your countertop. From under the neckline of his black shirt you could make out the top of the tattoo decorating his nape.

The hands currently plating what appeared to be your dinner -one of your favourites, you noted- twitched momentarily when you launched a sneak attack, wrapping your arms around Scara’s waist from behind. His surprise was gone just as quickly though, and from where your head rested against his back, you could feel him huff just as well as you could hear him.

”It would suit you right if I dropped your plate, you know,” Scara scolded you, though his bark lacked any and every spark of bite. Peeking around him to check if his hands were empty, you took the opportunity to plant a lingering kiss on the nape of his neck, feeling his skin go hot under lips immediately.

“Sorry, but I’m tired and I haven’t seen my lovely boyfriend allllll week, I couldn’t help myself,” you mumbled into his tattoo, not quite ready to part with him yet. “I missed you.”

“…I missed you, too, idiot,” your boyfriend sighed, pronouncing the nickname the same way someone else might call you ‘darling’. “C’mon, if you let go of me for a minute, you can change clothes and sit on the couch sooner, alright?”

That was how you knew Scara was aware of how beat you were. Eating on the couch was reserved for special occasions only, but it always put you in a better mood immediately. There was only one problem.

“Listen, Scara, I haven’t been able to do much cleaning this week. The state of my couch—“

“-has already been taken care of.” The way he finished your sentence was all the clues you needed to know he was rolling his eyes at you. “If you’d stop imitating a thistle you’d also know that.”

Detaching yourself from him, you took in your living room for the first time since coming home and almost didn’t recognise it from when you left it this morning. While your offences throughout the week hadn’t been major in and of themselves, over the course of a week, all the items you had discarded on the nearest surface while rushing through had piled up.

Now, however, you couldn’t have guessed you ever left it in that state, all your belongings back where they were usually to be found. Setting the plates down on the cleared coffee table, Scara picked something up from the couch and threw it at you before you could even reel in your mind long enough to thank him. Somehow you actually managed to catch the dark blue hoodie with frantic hands.

“I’m taking some of my others back, but you can keep that one for now. God forbid you wear your own shit for once.” Knowing him well enough, it was no secret to you that he actually loved giving you his clothes, the glint of bashful pride in his eyes betraying him every time. Plopping down on the couch, he turned to look back at you, hands making shooing motions towards your bedroom. “Go wash up and change before the food gets cold.”

However brash Scara’s words may sound to others, your heart fluttered all the way up to the smile that tugged at your lips. Clutching the fabric to your chest, you rushed to the bathroom to speed through your routine and change into comfy pants. As soon as you poked your head through the neckline of his hoodie, a familiar scent enveloped you and for the first time in what felt like forever, you found yourself calming down for good.

When you returned to the living room, you found that Scara had already flipped through the streaming service to the show you watched together but hadn’t managed to catch up on.

Handing you your dinner, you ate in comfortable silence, save for one or the other sarcastic comment Scara had to offer.

With your plates empty and back on the table, it didn’t take you long to crawl over to your boyfriend, cuddling up to where he occupied the corner of the couch. Only minimal complaints later were you resting with your head against his chest, legs tangled together over the length of the couch. The hand that wasn’t holding you close by the waist was instead running up and down your spine in soothing motions and it had you yawning into his neck more than once, eyes fluttering shut against your will.

“If you’re tired just go to sleep,” Scara mumbled into the crown of your head, shifting slightly so you could rest against him more snugly. “You worked hard this week, don’t force yourself.”

“But I wanna spend more time with you,” you drowsily answered into the material of his hoodie. 

“Hah, you really are an idiot,” he sighed once more, but not even your half-asleep self could miss the thumb gently stroking over your cheek. “I’m off work tomorrow, so dream about what you wanna do. Now go to sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“I love you,” came your hushed reply as you held onto him tighter.

You didn’t feel the kiss placed carefully against the top of your head or hear the whisper filled with affection, but they must have followed you into your dreams, for they were sweeter than any.

© the-travelling-witch 2024 - do not repost, translate, copy or edit. do not feed my writing to an ai.

if you like my content, reblogs, comments and asks are always much appreciated ♡

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[sunlightandsuffering]

Still enjoying my halloweenery !

Mikasa accidentally puts Eren under a love potion

“You’re sure?” Sasha hisses at her over Facetime and Mikasa almost growls, “Of course, I’m fucking sure, do you think I’d be telling you this if I wasn’t completely fucking sure Sasha?” 

Her best friend throws her hands up in defeat and Mikasa groans, “Sorry, I’m just stressed.” “You accidentally fed Eren a love potion, I can understand if you’re a little upset. But please remind me again exactly how you gave it to him?” Mikasa sighs, “I made cookies, and you know how he loves cookies and I left one out because I laced it with a love potion you know, I wanted to practice low dosing myself for class and well,” Mikasa shrugs in embarrassment, “You know what they say about masturbating on love potions, it’s kinda crazy, and I thought I’d try.” Sasha fucking cackles, a truly evil little witch cackle and Mikasa glares in return, before pointedly returning to the discussion at hand, “Anyway, so he came over, out of the blue because he has a key and I came out of the shower, and he’d fucking eaten it, and now I don’t know what to do because I was the first person he saw.” 

“So in that case the spell is definitely going to be about you, fuck,” Sasha curses on the other end of the line and Mikasa bites her lip nervously.

“So where is he now?” Sasha asks, her face coming closer to the webcam as the spirited brunette attempts to see through the FaceTime camera and into Mikasa’s cozy university apartment. “Well, I knocked him out with a frying pan and locked him in my room.” “You what?!” Sasha yelps, “What the fuck is this the plot of tangled?” “No!” Mikasa protests, “It was the first thing I grabbed and his eyes were just so,” Mikasa gestures wildly, “Green! And he was looking at me like he wanted to eat me up, and so I just knocked him out.” 

Mikasa bemoans her situation, glancing nervously back at her bedroom door, where she’s locked her other best friend/ex-boyfriend inside after knocking him out, he’ll wake up soon, any minute she’s sure of it and she still has no fucking plan. Sasha winces on the other end of the line, and the look on her friend’s face gives Mikasa no hope for her night, “Well, maybe he won’t wake up?” “I’m not that lucky.” As if on cue, she hears a groan from her bedroom and Sasha’s eyes widen, “Oh no–” Mikasa hangs up before she can hear any more, slamming her laptop shut and spinning her bar stool around to face her bedroom door. It feels like a horror movie, like some sort of wretched monster man is going to come out instead of a very hot warlock under a love spell. 

“Mikasa,” Eren’s voice groans, a deep baritone that sends shivers right down her spine, has her shutting her eyes to let it play over her skin, envision him saying it in an entirely different, very naughty context. “What the fuck did you do to me, and why the fuck,” His voice is a growl now, and the handle of her bedroom door shakes, “Is the door locked?” It takes seconds, two quick breaths, and he’s muttering a spell under his breath that unlocks the door with ease. The wards she’d placed had done absolutely nothing. 

There is a reason she’d wanted to take a love spell cookie tonight, and it’s a very specific, Eren-shaped reason. She’d wanted to get high out of her mind on a love potion, fuck herself silly on a vibrator and think of him. 

Eren Yeager, her very powerful, very hot warlock best friend, and oh right the cherry on top, her ex-lover. 

And he’s standing in the doorway of her bedroom like an avenging fucking angel, biceps bulging out of his black t-shirt, and jeans fitted a little too well to his legs, and looking all too much like he wants to fuck her. His hair is a mess, the knot of his bun loose, allowing his bangs to fall forward to frame his face, and he’s rubbing the very bright red mark on his head.

“Am I remembering correctly, you knocked me out with a frying pan?”

Shit, how could she forget. 

Mikasa chooses to grab the forgotten frying pan from the counter, holding it up threateningly to ward him off.

“I’ll do it again,” She promises him and Eren just stares, taking her in and fuck that cookie must be hitting him good because the beautiful green of his eyes has darkened, lustful. See, here’s the thing about love potions, especially when applied to people who already love one another: they get absolutely fucked. 

Cocaine, ecstasy, pixie dust, mermaid scales, nothing, not a single drug in the world could compare to the euphoria brought on by a love potion applied to someone already in love. 

That’s what Mikasa had been counting on when she had planned to take the cookie, she’d planned to curl up in her bed, get fucked out of her mind and go through her locked photo album to revisit every naught memory of Eren she’d ever had. 

Because it was a year to the day he’d broken up with her, and she’d been feeling a little heartbroken, who was he to begrudge her a little heartbreak. After all, they hadn’t exactly parted under positive circumstances, it was entirely due to the strength of the coven and Eren’s tentative political position within it. So they’d broken up and Mikasa had remained hopelessly in love. Looking at Eren now, and the absolute feral look in his eyes, the way his hands are twitching with the need to touch her, she thinks that just maybe Eren had remained the same way too. 

This isn’t really how she’d wanted to find out her ex was still obsessed with her. 

She slips off the barstool, frying pan in hand and Eren groans as he watches her, “What did you give me?” “You ate my cookie!” Mikasa snaps, her irritation pushing past her fear of the consequences, “Who the fuck just comes into someone’s house and eats their fucking cookie?” “What was in it?” Eren asks blithely, teeth gritted, “Because Mikasa, and I mean this in the nicest way possible, I have never wanted to fuck you more in my entire life, and that’s saying a lot because we went through puberty together, and I fucking remember when you grew boobs.” “It was a love potion.” “Figured,” Eren grits out, large hands balling into fists, “Why exactly were you planning to take a love potion tonight?” Mikasa pouts, looking away and Eren grunts, taking a step towards her, like he can’t help it and yeah, he probably can’t. 

She takes another step back behind her counter, keeping a barrier between them. 

Mikasa might love him, but she doesn't trust feral love potion Eren. 

She also has no interest in telling him the very embarrassing reason she’d created such a love potion, so she lies through her teeth, 

“I have a guy coming over, so if you’d be so kind as to,” she gestures animatedly towards the door with her frying pan. 

Eren actually fucking laughs, a dark chuckle that promises seductive things, “Still too in love with me Mika, have to trick yourself to fuck anyone new? Pretend it's me who’s fucking you raw.”

Mikasa resists the urge to hurl the frying pan at him, even more so at the way her heart races at his words.

“No,” Mikasa insists, “It has nothing to do with you!”

“Liar,” Eren doesn’t even pause, doesn’t believe her for a second, and it pisses her off.

“Excuse you Eren, but I have a vampire on the way, and we’re going to have hot crazy sex on my kitchen counter,” She pauses for effect, enjoying the look of possessive rage overtaking his face, “So get the fuck out.”

“Try again, Mikasa,” Eren tells her arrogantly, completely secure in the knowledge that she didn't make her love potion for anyone else, “Who’s it for baby?” 

This time, Mikasa really does hurl the frying pan at him. 

He catches it mid-air after casting a freezing spell, and Mikasa ducks down to grab another one, but he’s already on her. Two strong, purposeful strides have him next to her in seconds, her wrists clasped in one of his hands high above her head and her back pressed against the cabinetry.

“Gotcha,” He taunts, that smug smile painting his face, all teeth and dripping with self-satisfaction. 

“Tell me who it’s for, Miki?”

She turns her head away, and love-crazed Eren is having none of it, his hand gripping her chin and forcing her to look up, “Don’t play with me right now baby, whatever you gave me is fucking strong Mika.”

He presses his erection against her as if to prove her point and shit, yeah her potion is strong, the thick length of him completely unyielding against her thighs and god Mikasa wishes she got to her cookie before him. 

What she wouldn’t give to be blissed out on a love potion right now, safe and taken care of by her ex-boyfriend there’s no way he could have resisted her. 

“Mikasa,” He rumbles, leaning down to nip at her neck, “What did you make it for?” Mikasa fumes, glaring up at him, “Because I haven’t had sex in close to a year and I want to get high out of my mind and pretend we’re still together.”

This seems to shock him, “Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh’ asshole, why do you even still have my spare key?”

“Because it's mine,” he tells her firmly before skipping back to the last juicy little tidbit she mentioned, “But wait the last time you had sex was…” Eren trails off and Mikasa nods in embarrassment, the last time was six months ago when they’d both had a little too much to drink at the coven ritual party. 

“Fuck, that's hot,” he whispers and Mikasa blushes, looking away from him awkwardly as he presses closer, “Eren we’re broken up, you should just go.” It’s easier said than done when his every brain cell is probably begging him to fuck her. 

“You have any more love potion?” “What?” Mikasa wheezes, looking up at him in shock, her eyes comically large, there’s no way he’s saying what she thinks he’s saying. “Do you have any more?” Eren demands and Mikasa swallows nervously before answering, “Yeah.” “Take it.” “Why?” 

A dumb question, in hindsight, he probably wants to bend her over the counter right now. “Because we’re both going to get super fucking high, and I’m going to fuck your brains out, and it’s gonna feel so good, Mikasa.” 

Logically, she knows it’s a bad idea, logically she knows this is exactly the kind of situation she’d been afraid of. But also… she’s just a girl, and she really wishes she had been the one to take the love potion, her legs could be wrapped around his hips right now, impaled on his cock. She sighs in delight at just the thought and that wicked smirk on his face, oh god he knows exactly what’s going through her head. He bumps his nose against her cheek, nuzzling in to trail kisses down her throat, “C’mon Mika, just for tonight?” 

She doesn’t need to be told twice. 

The next morning when Sasha calls, nervously asking if she’s okay, Mikasa replies honestly, “I don’t think I can walk, ever again.”

[loving-and-dreaming]

I’m freaking lame 🤦🏼‍♀️ I don’t wanna request directly to people because I feel stupid and that I like them more than they like me(aka they don’t know or care about me 🤦🏼‍♀️).

Anyways I’m feeling like absolute shit and always go to fanfic to help me. So if anyone reads down this far and feels inclined to write a small fic know it would be greatly appreciated but if not k completely understand as I am too lame to ask for it. I have has a rough couple years, my life is kinda falling apart. I have sat bedside and watched three people die, there has been fraud on my account, my car is broken, I’m realizing I don’t have many friends and I’m going to die alone, im the only one in my family that doesn’t have kids or a significant other… and through it all I am trying my best to remain happy and positive for myself and for other people because I don’t think anyone really cares… but it is becoming harder and harder to be my positive happy self. I am used to cheering up others and making sure everyone else is happy but I can’t even pretend to be happy myself anymore 🤦🏼‍♀️ anyone if anyone would feel inclined or not that’s okay I could totally use a fic with the reader being comforted and just being aloud to not be happy even tho that’s what everyone around her expects from her. I just tagged a few of my comfort characters

[kinkyrafe]

Overnight Fun

Kinktober, October 04

THIS WORK IS 18+ ! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Summary:

The one where Rafe is edged over night for the first time.

Warnings: dom/sub dynamics, domme!reader, sub!rafe, very explicit

taglist: @yagirlwrites, @audzzz, @valyrianflower, @aariahnaa

_

It’s the first weekend Rafe and you decided to spend together. Only the two of you from Saturday morning to Sunday night and you really want to make it special. You want to have fun, you want to train him a little but most of all, you want to get to know him better. 

Rafe comes over to your apartment right after a breakfast with clients, still dressed in his fancy clothes and you can’t help but notice how your mouth waters when you see him like this. 

“Hello, handsome,” you greet him enthusiastically. “We should meet up after work more often. You look hot.”

“Hello, sexy lady,” he greets you back and you both laugh as he hugs you and kisses you.

“Ready for a weekend full of sex?” He asks and his eyes glint with anticipation.

“I am ready,” you answer, “Are you?”

“More than ready,” he says, “I couldn’t think about anything else all morning.”

“I hope you didn’t talk to your client about the two of us,” you tease him.

He grins. “Oh, I did, the entire time,” he jokes, “Turns out, they are really interested in the things we do in the bedroom.” He looks around your apartment as he comes in. “Not only in the bedroom, now that I think of it.”

You have something fun planned for this weekend but you’re not entirely sure how he’ll take it: edging. You have edged him before but only for maybe two or three hours tops and he got frustrated a lot even in this short amount of time. For someone who is fairly new to all of this, being constantly denied can be incredibly draining and frustrating, both mentally and physically, so you will have to be really mindful. He has told you that he would love to try it though.

“Are you still ready to be edged all weekend?” You ask as he hangs up his coat. 

“I sure am,” he replies, “I’ve watched a couple of videos online over the course of this week, it looks fun.”

You raise your eyebrows, barely holding back a laugh. “Videos?” You question mockingly. “You mean porn?”

“Yes, okay,” he chuckles with his arms up in defense, “I’ve basically watched porn all week.”

You step into his space and put your hands on his chest. “Did you touch yourself while watching it?” You continue to ask.

“I wouldn’t dare,” he answers and you just nod approvingly. 

“Good boy.”

It doesn’t take the two of you long before Rafe is sitting on your couch, partly undressed, with you on his lap, touching him as you see fit. Partly undressed is an understatement in itself, you couldn’t resist the outfit so you decided to open his dress pants just wide enough so that you have access to his cock. That is all you need for now anyway. 

You start stroking and pumping it, twisting your hand in the ways he likes it best - alternating between one and two hands, involving his whole cock from head to the base and his balls as well. It is a good handjob – even though you physically do not have the chance to experience it, you just know it is. His reactions to your touch make it evident.

"Please, can I come?" He asks after a short while and one look into his face tells him that he fully expects to be denied - rightfully so.

You laugh and continue to work his cock, forming a ring with your middle finger and thumb, playing with the edge of the head of his cock. His mouth falls open at this sensation. "Even if I hadn’t just told you that I want to edge you until tomorrow afternoon, just theoretically speaking, what would need to happen before that?"

There is this rule that you establish with basically all of your subs for the first couple of weeks until they obey willingly and you feel safe enough to not need them to be as vulnerable as you want them at the beginning of a sexual relationship. And this rule is that they are only allowed to come when there is something in their ass.

Rafe has taken to this rule of yours better than most. He loves having his ass played with, that has been clear ever since you first put a finger in him.

Right now, he laughs despite his desperation. “There’s absolutely no need for that,” he rasps out. 

You join in with his laughter. “Oh there is, trust me,” you retort, “Especially with argumentative subs like you. Gotta show you where your place is.”

He moans at that. “Yes, please.” 

“I'm showing you right now,” you say smugly, “Showing you your place isn’t always about getting all the action and all the orgasms, it's also about being patient and trusting me to make you feel good eventually. It's about endurance.”

He groans this time, frustrated. All the while his body is trembling with arousal and you know that he is close to coming.

“I take it, you don’t like this aspect of it,” you smirk, continuing to stroke his cock slowly but firmly.

He manages to huff out a laugh as his body reacts to what your hands are doing. “Not at all, mistress.” It’s a testament to how well you’ve trained him already that he adds this address to statements like this.

“Poor you,” you smirk and lick some precum off of him. His cock twitches. “I promise, you'll be so happy I made you wait tomorrow afternoon.”

He doesn’t believe you yet but arches his back in pleasure at the same time.

When you’re sure that he won’t be able to take anymore, you take your hands off of him and give him some time to calm down. He hates every second of it, you can tell.

“I thought it looked fun online,” you can’t help but tease as you start jerking him off again. 

“I just want to come so badly already,” he groans out and his voice is trembling already.

You bring him to the edge twice more – until his back is arched and his body is all tense and he clearly is close to losing it. 

His eyes are closed when you leave one hand on his cock and use the other to take an ice cube out of a cup. Carefully, you hold it against his rock hard and throbbing cock.

His whole body jolts with shock when the ice touches his skin. “What the fuck?” He shouts.

“Such foul language,” you scold with an evil smile on your face as you rub the ice cube all over his shaft, watching it soften, down to his balls. He squirms with discomfort. “Take it,” you instruct. “Show me how obedient you can be. Lay still and take it.” 

He groans and swears but his whole body tenses with the effort of keeping still and letting you basically hurt him. He still jerks away from you from time to time but over all, he does good.

“Why are you doing this?” He whines.

“Because I got you all hot and now I got to make you cool off again,” you explain sweetly. 

#

"Can you please put something in my ass? Please?" He begs about two hours later when you have your hands on his cock again, yet again pushing him to the edge over and over again. 

His cock is throbbing and leaking precum, his eyes are completely unfocused, there's a layer of sweat all over his body and he has goosebumps all over. In short, he is so heavily turned on.

“Look at you, begging to be fucked," you tease. “Where would you like to feel it?” You know, you're a bitch for pressing two knuckles against his teint, massaging his prostate on the outside. “There?”

His shouts echo around the room and while you enjoy seeing him like this, he probably should learn not to curse you. 

You motherfucking bitch, earns him a couple of light, harmless smacks directly to his dick and balls. According to his screams, they don’t feel light and harmless at all.

#

That night, you make him dress up and take you out for dinner, so he doesn't have to sit at home all day, moping about not being allowed to cum. 

“You clean up so well,” you can’t help but stare at him in admiration when he comes into the bedroom where you're getting ready. Such a beautiful man he is.

“Look who's talking.” He raises an eyebrow and puts an arm around your waist. “You’re so beautiful.”

His face comes closer to yours for a second before he turns away and drops his arm from your waist as well. As if he's not sure whether he's allowed to touch and kiss you. 

You quickly grab his hand and put it where it was only a moment before and then you reach up and bring your faces close together. 

“You can kiss me anytime you want, Rafe,” you say quietly. 

“Wasn't sure for a sec,” he mumbles before he cups your face and kisses you. You love kissing him. It's always the perfect amount of tenderness and passion. It's never too much and never too little. He's perfect. Rafe’s truly perfect in any way.

“Ready to eat?” You ask against his lips.

“Actual food or you?” He jokes.

“Food now, me later,” you answer suggestively and watch him swallow.

He's clearly not used to someone being as quick and sharp-witted as he is.

“Let's go before I'm hard again,” he says and basically hurries out of the bedroom. 

#

“Look at that, babe,” you say and guide his head so he has no choice but to look at his hard cock as you twist his nipples. “Look at your cock. Do you see how hard it is? I’m doing nothing but touching your nipples.”

You continue playing with them for a while. Caressing, licking, twisting, biting, pulling, scratching… just how you see fit. 

All the while, his cock is pumping precum like crazy. He is so incredibly turned on that you could probably do anything to him if you wanted to.

You love riling him up like this. You love making him hot all over. It's just so easy. His body responds to you in a way no one has ever done before – and it seems to be the same situation for him as well. No one has ever managed to get him like you get him. You know exactly what to say and where to touch and what to do to just make him feel good.

When you bring him down from the edge this time, he can’t hold back tears pooling in his eyes.

“Ah fuck,” he nearly sobs but laughs at the same time, “Fuck. I don’t know why I'm crying now.”

You smile at him gently and wipe away some falling tears with your hand. “Sometimes crying is just a reaction of your body when you are really tense and then the tension eases…” That's also why sometimes people cry after an orgasm.

And he is a complete mess. He's been pretty composed at dinner but other than that, he has been hard practically all day.

“It’s all gonna be worth it, I promise,” you comfort him as you evilly rub the ice cube over the tip of his cock. It’s all soft now.

“We'll do one new thing today,” you tell him carefully when the tears are gone, his breathing is evened out and he is calm again.

His eyes widen.

“Do you want to sleep in my bed tonight?” 

His facial expressions soften with surprise and relief. “You can’t just ask this question normally, can you? You just have to wind me up!”

You smile a bit sheepishly and shrug. “It’s so easy to wind you up, you know?”

He looks away a bit ashamed but when you kiss him, he immediately kisses you back.

You let him sleep in your bed because he is so tense and churned up and needy and you don’t want him to drop.

Once you are in bed, you cannot help but let your fingers run over his sides down to his ass. "I'm gonna fuck you so good tomorrow," you tease him, “You’re gonna cum so hard.”

He groans. You can’t help but notice that he is hard again. You almost feel bad but there is one thing still left to address. “You remember when you asked earlier whether you would eat food or me for dinner?”

“Babe,” he mutters and his voice almost breaks around the single word, “Mistress, I’m sorry.”

“I think it’s time for dessert,” you joke.

“You know how much I love eating you out,” he complains, “I’m probably gonna cum just from touching you.”

“You need to control yourself better, then,” you say sternly this time, “This is not about you right now.”

This sentence definitely hits home. He looks at you, shocked, and swallows. “Sorry, I know,” he says sheepishly, “Of course, I’m gonna eat you out.”

“Think you’re gonna manage to make me cum?” You ask, wiggling your eyebrows.

“You know I will,” he grunts and lifts the duvet to be able to get to work.

Of course he does make you cum. These fingers and tongue really can’t fail. 

He himself still doesn’t get to cum. 

He does get all the cuddles he wants, though. Which is nice. Really nice.

#

The next morning, not long after you’re both awake, you make Rafe eat you out again. 

“Do I get to cum after?” He asks, the expression on his face full of the anticipation of a five year old on Christmas Eve. 

You chuckle. “No,” you say simply, “This afternoon, I promise!”

He lets his head drop back and groans. “You fucking tease,” he mumbles, “It’s hard enough not to be able to get off, lying next to you but I love eating you out…. It’s so hot…” He continues to complain a little bit but as soon as you take off your panties, sit right in front of him and spread your legs so he can see your vulva, he stops short. He licks his lips and stares right between your legs. Seeming to remember his manners, he tears his gaze upwards to your face and turns red. 

“May I?” He asks and motions towards your vulva. 

You chuckle.

“Sure, when you’re done moping…” You say to tease him. He turns even redder but decides to push past his embarrassment and dive right into it. And boy does he give it his all.

“Are you a starved man?” You manage to ask after a couple of moments. You need to lie back. If you wouldn’t practice as much self-control you would have cum at least once already. 

“Desperate,” he smirks up at you, “Just how you like me.”

You chuckle before you have to throw your head back with pleasure. These long fingers combined with this naughty tongue are going to be the death of you in more ways than one. You need to think of a scenario that allows you to completely let go and still manage to stay in control as much as possible - and you need to come up with it quickly. “How about we’ll see how often you can make me cum during the next 30 minutes?” You ask breathlessly. 

Again, he looks up at you with so much anticipation in his eyes that you can’t help but laugh. “Challenge accepted,” he says and pulls you closer to his mouth by your legs. You are still laughing as you set a timer.

Exactly 30 minutes and a total of four orgasms later - it always takes you a while to cum after the first two - you both cuddle up next to each other to calm down. 

You can see and feel that he is hot all over and so, so incredibly turned on. His whole body is flushed and again, he has goosebumps all over.

You tease him a little bit. Letting your fingers trail over his torso, licking his nipples, sucking bruises to the inside of his thigh close to his groin, licking the soft and wet skin of the head of his hard cock that peeks out from underneath his boxers. 

You caress his balls, ever so lightly.

His whole body tenses, his breathing is ragged already and he is right on the edge and you notice that you definitely need to slow down or he'll either cum or he'll drop for sure.

You take your hands off him and lie down next to him, cuddling close. “You're being so good, babe,” you praise him over and over again while you're waiting for him to cool down a bit.

#

You go for a run together, 5k, just to let off some steam. It’s fun and it’s easy and you both love it and you can’t help but notice that with Rafe, it begins to feel very different compared to all the guys you had situationships and relationships with in the past.

When you’re home again, you shower together and you have to really control yourself to not make him fuck you right then and there. Instead, you make yourself stick to your plan, but let it be known that it is not easy.

The smile that forms on his face, when you tell him that he sometimes makes it hard for you to control yourself is radiant. He is so, so proud, and you can’t help but return the exact same, happy smile.

You decide that it’s best to cook together on Sunday for lunch to have something distract him from how horny he is. 

You can tell that he probably doesn’t cook at all judging by how he looks at the cucumber that you instruct him to chop for your salad. 

However, before he can get to it, you slide in the little space between him and your kitchen counter. 

“On your knees,” you instruct. 

His eyes darken as his pupils widen instantly. 

“Take off my pants,” you instruct further.

He does. 

“Make me cum again,” you tell him. You really need to feel these skilled long fingers and tongue on and in you immediately.

Of course, he obeys and gives you all the pleasure you deserve.

#

When it is finally Sunday afternoon, he is close to breaking. 

He is all over the place and so turned on that his body doesn’t really cooperate anymore. It’s not possible for you to put him on all four because he just cannot keep himself up. The mere sight of him in this state fills you with so much joy that you can’t help but smile the whole time. 

So you decide to put him on his back, tie up his wrists and then tie the wrists to the headboard of your bed. You pull him all the way down, so that his arms are straight. You put a spreader between his ankles and when it is in place again he has as little room to wiggle as possible. Positions like these seem to be toughest but they are actually very easy on the sub as they don’t have much room to disobey. 

He is fully hard and leaking precum by the time you are done tying him up.

“Tied up and nowhere to go just how I like you,” you say appreciatively. 

You take one of your strap ons out of the dresser next to your bed. Then you swing one leg over him and situate yourself until his head is in between your knees. "How about you put that tongue of yours to good use, while I fasten this strapon?” You ask. “Get me wet and excited to fuck you?”

He nods eagerly and gets to work. Again, it feels so, so good.

When it is finally time for you to fuck him, there is absolutely no resistance left in his body. You just grab the spreader and push it back so that his knees are drawn to his chest and then you try to prep him but he takes first one, than two, and then three fingers easily, and if he wasn’t as tied up as he is, he would totally fuck himself on your hand. There is nothing left in him other than pure lust and that thought alone makes you go wild.

So you slick up the strapon with a generous amount of lube, line it up, and before you even push it in, he is writhing within his bonds and moaning already.

And then you are fucking into him, strong, rhythmic thrusts in a slow pace and you can just see that Rafe’s body loves every second of it. You can see it, you can feel it, you can hear it. The noises he makes with every thrust are something else.

“Do I make you feel good?” You ask him softly, smiling down at this beautiful, completely wrecked man, all tied up in a way that allows you to fuck into him deeply, and all he can do is lie there and take it and it is so obvious that he enjoys all of it.

“So good,” he chokes out in between all the ah, and oh, and uh.

"Can you please touch me?” He asks, his voice completely hoarse.

You look down at his flushed, swollen cock that just lies against Rafe’s stomach, throbbing with arousal and pumping precum all over his tensing lower abs.

You circle the head of it with one gentle finger and swipe up some precum. "I think one dick involved is enough for now,” you respond with a particular hard thrust before you take your finger to your mouth and lick the precum right off of it. Delicious. He nearly blacks out at the sight.

Not long after that, however, you take your magic wand, turn it on and put it against his cock and at this point he is completely incoherent.

You decide to tell him he has permission to come now, any time because you just know he is not in the state to ask for permission anymore. 

You run the massager up and down from the tip of his cock down to his teint and he squirms and he breathes hard and he shouts. It's all he does.

You use the massager all over his body next, legs first, traveling upwards over his abs, to his nipples and then back downwards to his cock. You watch mesmerized as his muscles flex underneath your touch.

"You are such a sight," you tell him completely in awe.

By the time the massager is on the head of his cock again, he moans obscenely and then he cums hard.

And he cums.

And cums.

And cums.

His body jerks in every direction, seemingly seeking your touch and trying to get away from it at the same time. 

You milk him until he's completely dry. 

-

Even though you give him a lot of time, minutes later, he still is completely out of it. 

He whimpers when you pull out the strapon but that is the only sound he makes. Normally every whimper is accompanied by an embarrassed groan or a nervous laugh but there is no energy for none of that left in him.

You get rid of the restraints, but he doesn’t move his arms or legs regardless. 

He flinches slightly when you clean his cum off of him with a towel but other than that, there is no reaction from him.

So all you can do is lay down next to him. You run your hands over his body again, wanting to touch and feel every inch of his skin, but there is nothing suggestive or teasing about your touch now. It's soft and gentle and calming. You try to ground him as much as you can.

The whole time you praise him, tell him how good he has been, tell him how well he did and how hot he looked and how happy you are that he lets you do all these things, how brave he is for trying out new stuff and letting himself be so vulnerable with you.

It takes a long time for him to come back to himself. His eyes begin to focus after a while, and shortly after, you feel him wrapping his hands around your waist, drawing you closer, as close as possible. 

“That was out of this world,” he mumbles into your hair.

“Did you enjoy yourself?”

He only hums affirmatively.

He naps first, and you make sure to be there when he wakes up. After that, you force him to drink a glass of juice and eat a protein bar.

Then you make him take a bath. You stay with him and eventually you get in yourself. You massage his wrists and his ankles. You’re there and you’re all gentle touches and soft whispers and sweet words.

And after a while, at some point during his bath, he can at least talk again but his mind is still somewhere else. 

“I'm sorry, I'm so out of it,” he apologizes but there is absolutely no need for that.

“You're good,” you reassure him calmly.

You bring him sweat pants, a shirt and a hoodie and make him settle down on the couch.

When the food you ordered arrives, he falls asleep in the time it takes you to get up from the couch, go to your doorway and reenter the living room. 

You wake him gently. He apologizes again as it is only shortly after 6.30pm. 

"It's all good, Rafe, I promise," you comfort him, "You can sleep in a moment, I just need you to eat something first."

You eat in silence, the TV is on, streaming your favorite sitcom, but it's more a background noise. None of you are watching for real, your minds still on each other and on the scene you just shared.

“Babe?” He asks suddenly, “I’m… I just wanted to say, I’m sorry, that I was so whiny yesterday. I don’t know why… I knew it would be good but I somehow couldn’t really control myself.”

He looks so soft and vulnerable that you can’t help but hug him. “I know, babe,” you answer, deliberately using the same nickname he chose to use for you, “It’s all good, it was your first time to be edged overnight. You did a really good job. And you know I love you all whiny and desperate.”

He looks aways and turns bright red. You move in to kiss his cheek and his temple and it doesn’t take long before he gets over his embarrassment, cups your cheek and draws you in for a real kiss.

"Would you be comfortable sleeping in my bed again tonight? I know we both have work tomorrow and yesterday was the first night you slept over but I’m a bit afraid you could drop and I don’t want that."

He rubs his eyes and nods. "Yeah, I would like that."

You nod and a really happy smile spreads on your lips. You want to be with him because you're a bit afraid he'd drop, that is correct, but you also want to be with him, full stop.

"Come on, let’s get ready for bed then." 

It is only 08 pm but you’re both worn out and tired and you both crave a cuddle and cuddles are just best in bed.

[klaineccfanficlibrary]

Hey! Do you know of an fics that are similar to Lord of the Manor by Divine Lady91? Please and thank you!! =D

Hello, I am assuming that you want the historical/lord/rich storyline? Here is the fic you mentioned, as others might want to see it. I've never read it myself, so have added it to my list!! Also below are the options for similar. ~Jen

Lord of the Manor by divinelady91

Blaine is the mysterious lord of an estate in the English countryside, rumored to have been inherited under mysterious circumstances. Announcing his intention to marry, he comes to the Hummel household, it is assumed, to claim the eldest Hummel child - Rachel - as his spouse. Once upon a time, her younger brother, Kurt, had been in love with Blaine, and he thought Blaine had feelings for him as well. Sure that those feelings have been thoroughly forgotten, and with his own intention to marry another man yet to be made known, Kurt helps to prepare his sister for the loveless match that awaits her. But what happens when Blaine arrives and tells them that they have all been mistaken?

~~~~~

A Match Well Madeby MeriKG

AU. This is the dramatic tale of two pair of star-crossed lovers. Lord Kurt Hummel III, heir to the great Barony of Lima, is the single most eligible bachelor in her Majesty’s kingdom. Lady Rachel is an aspiring daughter of the Baron of a successful territory. Lord Kurt has no interest in marrying an appropriate Lady, but his father has finally put his foot down. When Lady Rachel, along with her half brother the minor lordling Blaine, arrives at Blackbird Castle in an attempt to ensnare the reluctant young Lord, sparks fly…in all the wrong directions.

~~~~~

23 by felix-felicis33

Blaine doesn’t think he’ll ever fall in love, or get the chance to, but that all changes when he meets a man with blue eyes and a beautiful smile at a coffee shop. The world seems a brighter place when Kurt enters his life. The only problem is, he doesn’t belong here with Kurt. He belongs ninety-one years in the past, back in the year 1923.

~~~~~

This Earthly Paradise by GlassParade

In Victorian England, Kurt Hummel is a struggling artist and contemporary of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, an organization of painters, poets, and critics who strive to turn the art establishment of England on its very head. His mentor, one Dante Gabriel Rossetti, has grown tired of Kurt’s reluctance to grow as an artist, and so enter Blaine Anderson, an artists’ model of Bohemian disposition and eye-catching good looks. Can he, using rather unorthodox methods, succeed where Rossetti has not?

~~~~~

Haute Couture by LPBekka

In the year 1889 a young fashion designer by the name of Blaine Anderson is about to meet the love of his life, the most beautiful woman in Paris only to discover that she is not all she seems. Klaine, Warning: Lemon, Cross Dressing, AU

~~~~~

Whether Near to Me or Far by drunkonwriting

In 1937, Kurt Hummel, son of a rich family, and Blaine Anderson, part of the Hummel staff, have little in common beyond a shared education at Yale and a childhood friendship. The summer after their college graduation, Kurt and Blaine find themselves growing more and more attracted to each other. However, before they have a chance to be together, one night’s events and a chain of misunderstandings change their entire history and pulls them apart. As they struggle to find each other again, they’re hindered by war and the shadow of the events that ruined their lives. Klaine, Atonement!AU.

~~~~~

Westerville Abbey Verse by @hkvoyage

Blaine is the second son of the earl of Westerville, and is considered the spare heir. After his 18th birthday, he attends the London Season to fulfill his duty of finding a wife. He soon realizes he is more attracted to the new footman. Kurt, who has just arrived at Westerville Abbey to work alongside his father, becomes equally as smitten with the earl’s youngest son. Will Blaine and Kurt be able to overcome their class differences in 1910s England? Will their forbidden love survive WW1? A Downton Abbey inspired historical Klaine AU.

~~~~~~

Gilded Cage by @canarian

In the winter of 1895, Blaine Anderson, the son of a wealthy doctor, and Kurt Hummel, the son of a middle class mechanic, cross paths at a luxury hotel in the quiet seaside town of St. Augustine, Florida. With everyone and everything working to keep them apart, can they find a way to be together?

[cheynovak]

Sweetheart - Part 3

Characters: Jensen Ackles x Y/N Female character     

Summary: After years apart, Y/N and Jensen, high school sweethearts, unexpectedly reunite. As they reminisce about their past, Jensen expresses regret about their breakup, and the chemistry between them reignites. Despite the weight of Jensen's current relationship with Danneel, they share a tentative kiss that brings back fond memories of their first love.

Warnings: none

*Please do not copy my work, reblog/comments/likes are appreciated* 

I had no idea how long we kissed. Time seemed to blur, the world falling away until there was only him—his lips, his hands, the familiar warmth that flooded through me. By the time he finally pulled back, I was breathless, my heart pounding so hard I could feel it in my ears. Jensen gently sat beside me on the car, and without hesitation, he pulled me into his arms like he’d done a million times before, as if no time had passed at all.

I rested my head against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the sound of his heartbeat just beneath my ear. The closeness was so easy, so natural. For a moment, I let myself forget about everything else—his marriage, the years between us, the complications we couldn’t ignore.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he said softly, his voice breaking the silence. “Since the other night at the bar… when I kissed you again, it’s like everything I thought I had put behind me came rushing back.” He let out a soft, almost self-conscious laugh. “I haven't felt this way in so long. I’ve been trying to figure out what it all means, but…”

I tilted my head to look up at him, my eyes meeting his. His face was serious now, almost vulnerable. “And what do you think it means?” I asked quietly, my voice barely above a whisper.

He sighed, his hand brushing a strand of hair behind my ear as his thumb gently grazed my cheek. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice tinged with a quiet frustration. “All I know is, I can't shake the feeling that I’ve been searching for something—someone—ever since we broke up. And now, seeing you again… it's like I’ve found it.”

My breath caught in my throat, his words swirling in my mind. I wanted to believe him. I wanted to lose myself in the idea that maybe, after everything, we could pick up where we left off. But the reality of our situation loomed too large to ignore.

Reality crashed over me like a cold wave, leaving me breathless in an entirely different way. My heart clenched as I abruptly stood up, shoving the blanket back into his hands. "This… this was a mistake," I muttered under my breath, the words barely audible as my chest tightened with emotions I couldn’t control.

When I dared to glance at him, Jensen’s expression hit me hard—the same puppy-dog eyes he used to give me when we were teens and I had to leave before curfew. The same eyes that made it nearly impossible to say no to him back then. But things were different now. We weren’t the same people anymore.

He stood up too, not letting go, his fingers slipping through mine as if holding on would somehow keep me from slipping away again. "What's next?" he asked, his voice soft but urgent, like he needed to know right then and there. "What… Am I going to see you again?"

Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring his face. I swallowed hard, trying to keep my voice steady. "J… It took me years to get over the fact that you broke up with me." My voice cracked at the memory, the raw pain of our breakup resurfacing in full force. "I don't know," I admitted, my heart aching with the weight of everything unsaid, everything unresolved.

His eyes, his hope visibly dimming as if he knew the answer but still couldn’t accept it. “Please, Y/N,” he whispered, the vulnerability in his voice tugging at my heartstrings.

I could barely stand the way he was looking at me, like I was slipping through his fingers all over again. My throat tightened, and I shook my head, trying to find the right words. “I need time,” I finally managed, my voice shaky but firm. “Time to think… when you're not around.”

He nodded, his face etched with understanding but also with pain. He was giving me space, like he always had, but I could see how much it hurt him.

We stood there for a moment, frozen in the aftermath of something neither of us was ready to face, the weight of our history hanging between us. I wanted to run to him, to tell him it could work this time. But I knew better. The years between us, the lives we’d built separately—it wasn’t something we could just erase with a kiss.

“I’ll call you,” I whispered, though I wasn’t even sure if that was true. His hand slipped from mine, and as he let go, it felt like something inside me was being pulled away with it.

He didn’t say anything else, just watched me with those same eyes that once held all my world. I turned and walked away, my chest tight, the cool night air doing nothing to ease the ache.

--

I didn’t call. I couldn’t. Instead, I let the days stretch on in silence, and with each one, I felt the weight of the heartbreak I’d experienced when he had broken up with me all those years ago. The same pain I thought I’d buried deep down was rising to the surface again, raw and unrelenting.

When Jensen left back then, it had been like my world crumbled. He was chasing his dreams, leaving our small-town life behind to become an actor, and I still had a year of high school to get through. I had begged him to stay, or at least try to make the distance work, but his mind had been made up. He needed to go.

And the worst part? He’d moved on so quickly. Not even a few months later, there were pictures of him with someone new, smiling, laughing like he hadn’t just shattered my heart into a million pieces. I never understood how he could do that. It felt like the love we had meant nothing to him, as if it had all been so easy to let go.

Meanwhile, it took me three years—three long, painful years before I could even think about seeing someone else. Even then, every relationship felt like a comparison to what we had. No one ever quite measured up to the way he made me feel. No one could fill the void he left behind.

And now, after all these years, he was back in my life, stirring up feelings I’d long since tried to bury. It hurt more than I could have imagined. How could I just fall back into old habits when the old pain was still so fresh, so real?

I thought I had healed. But now, it felt like the wound had been reopened, and I was bleeding all over again.

--

To my surprise, Jensen called again. I wasn’t expecting it. I had braced myself for silence, for the quiet space where we could both pretend that kiss, those words, the shared history, were a mistake best left in the past. But then my phone buzzed, and his name flashed on the screen, sending a jolt through my chest.

I let it go to voicemail. My hands shook as I stared at the notification, debating whether to listen or just let it sit there, unanswered. But curiosity, that familiar pull of him, won out.

His voice came through the speaker, low and hesitant. “Hey, it’s me… I, uh, I know I said I’d give you your time, but… I can’t stop thinking about you.”

I squeezed the phone tighter, feeling the tug in my heart. His words hit harder than I wanted to admit. He sounded conflicted, vulnerable, and that only made it worse.

“I… I need to tell you so much,” he continued, his voice growing softer, almost pained. “There’s so much I never said, and so much I need to apologize for.”

There was a pause, a small exhale, as if he was struggling with whether to keep talking. “I messed up, Y/N. And I don’t think I ever realized just how much until now.”

The message ended abruptly, and I just sat there, staring at my phone, the weight of his words sinking in. All the feelings I had been trying to push down came rushing back in waves—anger, hurt, nostalgia, longing.

I wanted to ignore it, to let it go like I had promised myself I would. But his voice… it lingered, pulling me back into the past, making it harder to hold onto the walls I’d built around my heart.

I didn’t know what to do next. Should I call him back?

I called him back, and it didn’t take long for him to pick up. His voice sounded almost relieved on the other end, like he had been waiting for this. I kept it simple, cutting straight to the point, "I want to meet for closure, Jensen. No more kissing, just talking."

He agreed without hesitation, and we decided to meet at my place. A neutral, familiar ground where the ghosts of our past wouldn’t feel so overwhelming. When the doorbell rang, I took a deep breath and opened the door, half-expecting him to show up casually, but instead, he held a single flower—my favorite flower. It was the same gesture he had made on our first official date outside of school. I raised an eyebrow, trying to keep the moment light, and he offered a sheepish smile. "I saw it on my way here," he explained, almost like an excuse.

I smiled despite myself, the small, sweet memory tugging at me, but I quickly reminded myself why we were here. We sat down in my living room, the air tense but oddly comfortable—like a moment we had shared a hundred times before but with a whole new weight between us.

Before I could even second-guess myself, I blurted it all out, the words tumbling out faster than I intended. "This is closure for me, Jensen. I need to get this off my chest."

He sat there, listening quietly as I laid it all bare—how he had shattered my heart when he left, how it felt like he hadn’t even tried to wait for me. One year. That’s all it would have taken, and yet, he chose to leave, to not even consider long distance. Then, as if that wasn’t enough, he had moved on so quickly, dating other girls like we had been nothing, like I had been nothing.

I could see the guilt in his eyes, the way his shoulders tensed and his jaw clenched as he listened to every word I said. He didn’t interrupt, didn’t try to defend himself. He just… listened, and somehow that was more powerful than anything he could have said. It wasn’t just words. It was years of unspoken hurt spilling out, years of wondering what I had done wrong, why I wasn’t enough to wait for.

By the time I finished, I was breathless, my heart racing like I had just run a marathon. I looked up at him, bracing myself for whatever he might say.

Jensen leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his voice soft but thick with regret. "I didn’t want to hold you back," he said, his eyes not quite meeting mine. "I listened to people I shouldn’t have. They told me that loving someone means letting them go… and I thought I was doing the right thing. I convinced myself that you’d be better off without me, but the truth is, I missed you. I was lonely. Dating those other girls wasn’t because I moved on, it was because I couldn’t stand how much I missed you."

He exhaled, his voice shaky as he continued, "I can’t even count how many times I wanted to call you, to beg for your forgiveness. But when I finally did, your dad answered the phone and told me you were out with a boy. That you were moving on… I thought I’d lost you for good.”

I stared at him, my heart pounding in my chest. His words hit hard, but it was the lie that stopped me cold. “Jensen,” I said slowly, forcing him to look at me. “That wasn’t true. I didn’t date anyone for three years after you left. I couldn’t. I was too heartbroken.”

His eyes widened in shock, and I could see the realization hit him like a punch to the gut. “What?” he whispered, his voice barely audible, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

I nodded, the pain of those years washing over me again. “My dad lied to you, Jensen. He didn’t want you calling me, but I wasn’t seeing anyone. I couldn’t even think about being with someone else. You were all I could think about.”

Jensen’s face fell, the regret in his expression deepening as he processed what I had just told him. “I… I didn’t know,” he said, his voice cracking. “God, I thought… I thought you’d moved on, and it tore me apart. If I had known…”

He trailed off, shaking his head, clearly overwhelmed by the truth that had been hidden from him for so long. His fingers rubbed at his temples as if trying to push away the weight of it all. "I should’ve fought harder for you. I should’ve called again. I should’ve never listened to anyone else."

The silence between us grew heavy, filled with all the misunderstandings and missed chances we never had the chance to address. I could see how much this revelation was breaking him, but it didn’t change what had happened. It didn’t erase the years of pain we had both carried.

Jensen's gaze softened as he asked, “Did you ever marry?” His voice was careful, hesitant, like he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer.

I shook my head once, keeping my eyes on my hands, my fingers fidgeting with the hem of my shirt. "I did. But he left a few years back." My voice was steady, but there was a weight to the words. They felt empty compared to everything that had come before.

I glanced at the ring on his finger, the one that had been gnawing at the back of my mind since he showed up at my door. "Danneel seems nice," I said quietly, my throat tight as I forced the words out.

Jensen nodded, the corners of his mouth lifting into a small, almost sad smile. "Yeah, she is. Great mom too."

A lump formed in my throat, and I had to blink back the tears that suddenly welled up. We used to talk about having kids together—dreamed about what they would look like, who they’d take after, and all the places we’d take them. It was a dream I had held onto longer than I should have, even after he was long gone.

"Do you have kids?" he asked gently, though I could tell he already sensed the answer.

I shook my head, the lump in my throat making it hard to speak. “No.”

The truth hung between us, heavy and unspoken. I never wanted kids without him. That was the reality I had hidden from everyone, even from myself for a long time. And now, sitting across from him, the man I had loved so fiercely, I couldn’t help but feel like I had been so foolish to let my life stall in the shadow of that lost dream.

“God, I was so stupid,” I whispered, a tear slipping down my cheek before I could stop it.

Jensen shifted closer, his expression filled with the same regret and sorrow I had seen in his eyes before. “You weren’t stupid, Y/N,” he said softly, his voice gentle. “We both… we both made mistakes. And I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am for all of this.”

Jensen reached out, his thumb gently wiping away the tear that had slipped down my cheek. He was sitting right in front of me, his face inches from mine, looking up with those same soft eyes that once made me feel like the center of his world. For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. The weight of his presence, the way he looked at me—like no time had passed—was too much.

He was too close. Too familiar.

“It’s better if you leave,” I said quietly, the words catching in my throat as I tried to push him away before I lost myself completely.

But he didn’t move.

I repeated it, firmer this time. “Jensen, you should go.”

He shook his head, his eyes never leaving mine. “No. No, I’m not leaving you again.” His voice was low, but there was something in it—a kind of finality, as if he had made up his mind. “I’ll show you how much you mean to me. How much I still love you.”

Those words—love you—hit me like a jolt. I looked up at him, searching his face, wondering if I had heard him right. Did he just say that? After all these years, after everything we’d been through? My heart pounded in my chest as the room seemed to blur around us.

Before I could process it, he stood up, his movements deliberate, and pulled me into his arms. His embrace was warm, solid, and so achingly familiar. I froze for a second, caught between wanting to push him away and wanting to melt into him like I had so many times before. The feel of him, the scent of him, it all came rushing back—the memories of a time when everything was simpler, when being in his arms meant safety, love, and home.

“I never stopped loving you, Y/N,” he murmured into my hair, his voice barely above a whisper, as if the words were meant only for me. “Not then, not now. Not ever.”

I wanted to believe him. God, I wanted to. But the years of hurt, the scars from our past, clung to me. My mind screamed at me to pull away, to remind him of the life he had now, the wife, the kids. But my heart… my heart was screaming something entirely different.

I stood there, enveloped in his warmth, my hands resting on his chest, torn between what was right and what I had always wanted.

"Please... Please don't make me leave." I couldnt look up at him. "We have another chance Y/N. Just, say you still love me, and I'll make it work this time."

I sighed burying my face against his chest. My legs shaking, my breath hitched almost into a sob. I was ready to say no, I really was to let go, until I looked up into his green eyes.

And all I could say was.

"I'll never stop loving you."

--

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Tag list:-> If you want to be added let me know what you like to read! If anyone feels like you're tagged too much, also let me know please. :)

@ninii-winchester @spxideyver @n-o-p-e-never

@kr804573 @nancymcl @suckitands33 @mostlymarvelgirl @globetrotter28 @jackles010378 @hobby27 @winchesterwild78

@deans-baby-momma @soab1967 @livingdeadblondequeen @ladysparkles78 @whimsyfinny @lmg14 @yvonneeeee @kamisobsessed @call-me-mrs-winchester

[fuwaprince]

HELP HELP HELP HELP HELP HELP HELP PLEASE

Hi everybody, how are we doing? I hope you're enjoying the beginning of fall. Now that I'm done just being hospitable, can I just be honest? Can I vent? Can I be heard? Am I allowed to express my hurt? Can I please request for aid?

I am struggling to all hell. On and off the streets and been homeless since June 1st. I don't need resource information- I need immediate relief in the form of financial support. My partner and I are doing our best to be strong but being strong does not help when we're in the position where we're lucky just to eat, or do laundry. Over this summer I have been robbed of my possessions (cards, clothes, cash, toiletries, my phone... all of which I struggled to get to begin with). I have been sexually assaulted and put through violent situations. Detained because people LIED and I guess that means guilty until proven innocent. Woke up undressed for reasons unbenounced to me in a house fire surrounded by flames and SOMEHOW, unfortunately survived. Somehow contracted a disease that has no fucking cure. I have reached out to EVERYONE I KNOW BEGGING FOR HELP. I have taken so much shit in exchange for the smallest amount of help, for food, for access to medical attention or a shower or for privacy. I have been homeless with a 103 degree fucking fever that lasted for days and got no help because I was too sick to move. I crawled to a shower and sat on the floor hoping my brain wouldn't melt (which it begins to at such temperatures btw). All this did not happen because I'm "lazy" or "a bad woman".

I am a woman presenting person who probably should have just been born in the right body or into the right wealthy ass family. I am in my 20s. I have been told I would make a great prostitute but I wasn't even made for of- nor am I interested. My abusive ass neglectful ass family are not helping me through my situation and my mom tells me I deserve it so that she doesn't have to cry while listening to me explain how bad things have gotten. I have a stab wound on my neck. I have burns on my body. I did not put those there myself. How could anybody deserve any of that? How could anybody do nothing to help? How can you just look at me and pessimistically say, "good luck". Or give the apathetic and unhelpful "me too" response.

My partner lost his dog after the fire. Can you imagine having to pretend like that doesn't matter because you have to worry about food? Can you imagine trying to provide emotional support because red cross never called back after you requested for health services? When your school says they can't help you because it's out of the budget???? "LIMITED FUNDS" they say. I was on the Dean's honor roll for TWO semesters in a row, almost close to getting my BA (just a few classes away). I was a student leader. UNTIL I had to finally say fuck that shit and drop. I have enough credits to graduate but I do not see how the fuck I'm going to survive until 2025.

I need help! Please help? Words of encouragement are appreciated but please help me raise enough for a down payment for a car to live in. That is what I'm asking for, at least for winter. I would like an apartment but California is so outrageous with prices, all I can hope for realistically is a car. Anything would help. Nothing is expected.

Please rb this post, if you can, it helps.

Always remember to maintain your humanity and that love persists.

Garlic haters DNI

my paypal is @garyanne

[idkjustrandomdrawings]

Author’s Notes: Minors do NOT interact!!! You leave wrio for a few days but you make sure he has something to think about you~

You smile at him.. that innocent sweet smile he adores while you hand him the filthiest thing your could ever give…he’s almost too afraid to even take the fabric from you, knowing exactly what it is but god he’s too curious to not look. He slowly takes the wet cum ruined panties from you, holding them bundled up in his hand and staring down at it. He’d never thought of this happening, how in the world is he even supposed to keep himself together after something like this? he gently moves his thumb over the fabric to feel the wetness, feeling it in between his finger tips.

“Think of me while i am gone~”, you say teasingly, kissing Wrio’s cheek and waving goodbye as you go on your week long trip. You two have never been separated for so long and you knew how needy he gets after a long day in the Fortress.. hopefully this will ‘help’ him.

Wriothesley stands there a little too overwhelmed, looking at you go still panties in his hand.. He quickly stuffs them into his pants and straightens his posture trying to look composed. Still a little flush across his face is visible.. the mere thought of- .. god you kill him every time..

He makes his way back to his office and goes to work.. in the back of his mind the panties always very present..

He can feel his body going crazy, so overwhelmed by everything that’s happening. He doesn’t even know what to do first his mind too preoccupied by what you just gave him to properly work, it’s too much. He feels himself getting hard already, closing his eyes and sighing loudly, he lets his head fall back against his chair, sitting around his desk and trying to catch his breath, but it’s barely working… god he needs this.. he’s so desperate for you..

he finally takes a deep breath and manages to get himself in a better position. His heart is still racing, his body still shaking, but the breathing is helping a bit, and he slowly opens his eyes and looks at the fabric in his hand again. The feelings seeing it in his hand give him is insane, and he has to take another deep breath.

“Archons… the things you do to me..”, his voice is barely more than a whisper, he’s so overwhelmed that he can hardly breathe. He’s never fallen this far off the edge before, he can barely speak, he slowly starts to open his zipper, his other hand holding your ruined panties, thumbs running along the insides, feeling the slick slightly white wetness. As he gets his pants open he hesitates for a moment as he’s sitting in his office, the fact that he’s actually going to do this, in his office at the fortress..

Wrapping his hand around himself. he closes his eyes as soon as his hand starts to slowly move, using the pre-cum that leaks from his tip to lube himself up.., a low moan leaving his lips immediately at the contact of his thumb smearing his cum all over his tip and dick, slowly moving his hand, letting out another low moan, his body falling apart in response to the sensations, and he has to hold himself steady with one arm, bracing himself against the his office chair.. the sight of the bunched up fabric in his other hand, the ruined panties in his hand..

he slowly lifts it up to his nose, taking a big sniff to get your scent and immediately moans louder, his hand getting faster, more desperate as he smells you.. he lets go quickly and spits into his hand before getting back to jerking off to you.. to your scent, to your taste~ he licks the inside of your cum filled panties, whimpering pathetically, he inhales your panties deeply. The smell of your ruined panties, the sensations he’s causing himself, the fact that you know what he is doing with your ruined underwear…

[fuck-you-upmusicbracket]

Little Talks (Of Monsters and Men)

You're gone, gone, gone away; I watched you disappear/All that's left is a ghost of you Now we're torn, torn, torn apart; there's nothing we can do/Just let me go, we'll meet again soon/Now wait, wait, wait for me; please hang around/I'll see you when I fall asleep

"It's such a happy song, in sound, but it's about a woman and her dead lover, both of them singing call and response to one another. missing each other, the dead having to watch the living grieve them. and the bridge is both of them at once and just. oh my god"

No Children (The Mountain Goats)

I hope that our few remaining friends/Give up on trying to save us/I hope we come up with a fail-safe plot/To piss off the dumb few that forgave us/I hope the fences we mended/Fall down beneath their own weight/And I hope we hang on past the last exit/I hope it’s already too late

I hope it stays dark forever/I hope the worst isn't over....And I'd hope that if I found the strength to walk out/You'd stay the hell out of my way

I am drowning/There is no sign of land/You are coming down with me/Hand in unlovable hand

And I hope you die/I hope we both die

"The song of all time. It's the soundtrack for countless bad vibes ships (affectionate). The phrase 'hand in unlovable hand' has immutably altered the brain chemistry of thousands with its underlying sentiment and launched a hundred accompanying memes. 'I hope you die, I hope we both die' crams such incredible rawness and depth of feeling into all of nine words. It also makes for a great singalong."

"I need to leave. I need to LEAVE. I need to get out of this situation and I'd hope that if i found the strength to walk out, you'd stay the hell out of my way. I need to leave. Please. Let me out. HAND IN UN FUCKING LOVABLE HAND"

"Just. Man. These two are so broken. They want to be in love. They aren't. They hate each other so much. They are the only ones who understand each other. They wish that they weren't so close but all they can taste is ash when they think of leaving each other. Just, mutually assured destruction tastes so sweet when you can taste the blood on their tongue."

"It's No Children."

"goddd man this song is about being an irredeemable freak with another irredeemable freak and i think that's beautiful. there's something so fuck you up ish about the person you hate and despise the most in the world also being the only other person who is like you, who gets you. im going down, but youre going down too. we can be terrible people together... even if i hate you... even if you're the fucking worst. because we don't have anyone else. there's always a sort of comfort in knowing that there's someone out there who's as terrible as you are, and maybe you only hate them because you see yourself in them a little, too. anyway clay and bloberta from moral orel"

"The sheer emotion packed into the way it’s sung, the lyrics themselves, all of it just screams ‘clinging desperately to someone you hate because you don’t have anyone else and you burned those bridges yourself’ and I find that painfully relatable"

"It's a song about both virulent self-hatred and virulent hatred of someone else and yet you see yourself intertwined with that hated person forever."

Poll runner: Do I even have to add anything? This was the tournament's most submitted song.

No Children submitted by @leovaldezdefender + @diogenescynic2288 + many others

[satureja13]

Vlad, Kiyoshi and Jack returned back home after long hours of looking for Tiny Can - without success. Jeb finished searching their home lot just a few minutes ago and sent exhausted Ji Ho to take a bath until Vlad was back to charge their Bond with him. They also asked Adriano if he'd seen Tiny Can leaving, but he denied. (Ariano usually stays at home when the Boys and the Goats are out and about. He enjoys his alone time without the quirky goats ^^') There's nothing more they can do tonight and Jeb volunteered to deliver the bad news to Saiwa...

Vlad immediately went to their shared bathroom to look after his bonded. Some ghosts had gathered around Ji Ho and illuminated the scene. It was a sight to behold. Ji Ho is utterly beautiful. His scales shimmering in the faint blue light. Water driplets rolling down his moist, tattooed skin. Vlad just hopes they don't have to go too far to charge their Bond and heal themselves from the exhaustion of teleporting them back home. To not taint their freshly blossoming love...

And while Vlad left to wait in Ji Ho's room until Ji Ho got dressed, poor Jeb went over to Saiwa. Not only does he have to bring the bad news that they didn't find a trace of Tiny Can, he also has to stop Sai from searching and put him to bed. Well, he had a few hours to ponder about this and thought he'd go with stern and bossy ö.ö Gladly, he can't see Sai's exasperated face, otherwise this would have probably stopped him... Jeb: "We quit for tonight. Let's take a shower and go to bed." Saiwa: "No sign of the tin can, I suppose. Go ahead. I'll try..."

But Jeb interrupted him: "No. We all need to recover." Sai already felt the new vibe in their dynamics at Castle Hummelshain, when they all went with him to discuss the loan. Even earlier. When Jeb stated he didn't want to roll back into their former relationship - and start from scratch again instead. And even though Sai is just a tiny step away from tripping over the edge and falling into the abyss of sorrows and despair, Jeb's words pierced through. Sai knew that Jeb was right. They all promised to carry the burden with Sai - and Sai promised to let them. And so he obeyed and went to take a shower. As soon as the hot water Sai pattered on his skin and washed away the makeup and tension, he was able to push the tin can aside for a while and recalled how stern Jeb was. Sai hates it to be their leader and so he was quite excited to see the bossy side of Jeb. That's one of the reasons Sai wants Jeb to be his top. For once he wants Jeb to take the lead and let himself fall. And surrender his body, mind and soul to Jeb's will. Subordinate to Jeb's commands... Uh, it's getting hot in here ö.ö Now is really not the time for thoughts like these. Sai turned on the cold water and held his hot face into the chill stream. When Sai came back to his room, Jeb had also taken a shower and changed into his sleepwear. Sai can't believe his luck: "You stay over?" Jeb: "No, we are going to sleep in my bed. I'm afraid if I leave you alone, you'll go back to the computer to track down Tiny Can." Dammit, Jeb knows him so well. But he's going to sleep in Jeb's bed! With Jeb beside him!

Jeb: "Come here, I'll hold you until you fall asleep." Sai: "And then you shove me away? How am I supposed to fall asleep then?"

Jeb laughed: "Fine, I'm going to hold you - no matter what." Sai sighed contently and snuggled closer, deeply inhaling Jeb's scent: "I missed you so much." Jeb tightened his arms around Sai: "I missed you too. Sleep now. And don't worry, we'll figure something out. As always." Sai was so tired and exhausted, he just believed in Jeb's soothing words and closed his eyes. It just felt too good to be held by him. His strong arms around him, holding him tight. Nothing else mattered in this moment. And Sai fell asleep.

Vlad and Ji Ho sat on Ji Ho's bed. The Bond was so happy there are no more obstacles, curses and spells that keep the both of them apart, it didn't demand much and was just glad to help healing them. They just cuddled for a while and soon they felt so much better. Maybe Ji Ho's new found feelings helped too. Everything was so much more intense now, including Vlad's touch. Especially Vlad's touch.

It was too early to share a bed but Ji Ho asked Vlad to stay. He can't be alone right now. So Vlad slept on Ji Ho's sofa. They both know that nothing will keep them from being together for real now and they cherished this heady newly-in-love feeling. Ji Ho can still feel where Vlad's hands touched and caressed him. And when Vlad's breath steadied and slowed, Ji Ho fell asleep too. (The cute painting of Little Goat sleeping was a Winterfest present from Vlad.)

'Sometimes in our lives We all have pain We all have sorrow

But if we are wise We know that there's always tomorrow

Lean on me When you're not strong And I'll be your friend I'll help you carry on...

For it won't be long Till I'm gonna need somebody to lean on

Please swallow your pride If I have things you need to borrow

For no one can fill Those of your needs that you won't let show'

Lean on me - Bill Withers

Outtakes

The way Vlad looks at him. Vlad is happy when Ji Ho's happy <3

From the Beginning 🔱 Underwater Love 🔱 Latest

Current Chapter: starts ▶️ here Last Chapter: 'Here comes the Sun' from the beginning ▶️ here

📚 Previous Chapters: Chapters: 1-6 ~ 7-12 ~ 13-16 ~ 23-28

[sahisan]

just my silly random thoughts on how chuuya would be if he was a father and why he wouldn't want to be one as a chuuya kinnie and a person with generalized anxiety disorder. maybe ooc. tw for overprotection, excessive control, obsessive thoughts, anxiety.

please remember that i am not talking for the character, in this case chuuya, i'm just stating my thoughts on why it could be like this. i do not pretend for my thoughts to be taken as canon.

what i would like to start with is, of course, chuuya's line of work. he's a mafioso, an executive on top of that, and because of that, i think he would worry a bit too much about the people close to him, let alone his family and a kid. he'd lost more people that he'd ever want to that he loved, and thus, i think he would absolutely hate the idea of his own child being hurt, or worse—dying—the same way it happened to the people close to him in his past.

that's where i'd propose chuuya would absolutely be an overprotective typa dad: regular calls regarding his child's location if they go out, more simple calls to confirm they're alright, occasional texts about something random to see if they'll answer quick enough (will call if they don't (again, to know if everything's good)), maybe some location tracker(s) device in their phone/on their clothes etc. he would want to know and control. not because he's a stalker, but because he's worried.

the reason for the latter comes in next—worry, anxiety and obsessive thoughts. maybe i'm projecting, maybe, but i think chuuya wouldn't be able to calm his thoughts and shut them up like. ever. especially thoughts regarding his child. again, with his line of work, everything could happen: he'd always think of enemies or rivalry organizations spying on his kid/them both when they go out, sniping at his kid when he leaves for work (it would absolutely get worse tenfold with long overseas missions), and, yes, while he'd be prepared for all kinds of things (his car's windows would be tinted to the maximum, he'd have cameras all over the apartment complex where he lives and in the apartment itself, security guards at the door (maybe a sniper or two at the top of the building) and he'd personally invest in improving the complex security), chuuya would still think and the thoughts wouldn't be able to leave his head, because— he knows he'll never be able to control everything, and that's exactly what he hates the most. what if something will happen that he didn't predict? couldn't have predicted? could've predicted but forgot? the what if's would plague him day and night.

that also means no information about his work for his kid. none. chuuya would hide all the available documents around the apartment, take some more important ones with him, close the door to his home office with a key each time he'd leave for work, exit the room and close the door when receiving work calls, and would do everything in his power for them (the kid) to not know about literally anything regarding what he does. maybe he'd tell them when they're older, but not before 18-20 that's for sure. yes, it would be hard to keep all that away from them especially once they'd get older, but he would really only want the best for them and their safety.

all of the above may sound like i really am just projecting, but after reading some of chuuya's backstory and stuff, that's just how i personally see it so yup.

another point. absolutely only private schools/other private institutions for his kid. maybe even homeschooling, depending on whether they would be willing, but i think the homeschooling variant would fall off immediately because he would want the kid to actuay have friends and socialize and live a normal life (and then there's a little something in chuuya's mind, like his thoughts, telling him that, with a father like him, they wouldn't ever be able to live like a normal person). so that leaves only a private school. even like that, he would still spend hours with a laptop in his lap and a phone between his shoulder and his ear, picking out the best private school in all of the yokohama and personally calling them to assess everything to the smallest details. i think he'd even make a personal visit to the few he'd liked best and choose only after that. after choosing the one, there's a possibility chuuya would add/alter some rules after talking with the headmaster and the teachers to ensure that his kid's safety would be absolutely like, top-tier. no loopholes or concessions.

back to the "why he wouldn't want to be a father" point, i think chuuya would greatly understand that what he'd be like wouldn't be okay in the slightest, even more so, his work takes up almost all of his free time, and because of that he'd understand that he can't spend, like, almost any time with his kid, while a parent is supposed to be present in the child's life every moment. that's it.

[ananxiousgenz]

COME GET Y'ALLS JUICE I POSTED ANOTHER FIC TODAY

@izel-scribbles for you <3

There was no doubt about it: John was horribly, irrevocably in love with Arthur.

He had been for years. He knew that much now. People tend not to bargain with unknowable beings or repeatedly relive someone’s traumatic death to protect and help someone they couldn’t give a shit about. But he hadn’t reached the conclusion that he really, truly loved Arthur until a few months after their separation, on a lazy Tuesday in their shared apartment.

John had been lying on the couch, listening to some jazz music over the radio while scribbling out ideas for a poem he’d been working on. It was late afternoon, and the light shining through the windows covered everything in echoes of molten gold and fox fur and fire, staining the wallpaper all warm and bright. Specks of dust floated through the streams of it pouring into the room and lit up like stars. It was wonderfully cool outside, in contrast to the fiery sunset, and the breeze that drifted in from the window felt positively delicious in the overheated apartment. Arthur was standing over in the kitchen, starting to cook dinner, and had raised his focus from the pan in front of him to ask John a funny question that he couldn’t recall now. All he could remember was the way Arthur looked when he asked it. 

The light from the kitchen window caught in Arthur’s hair, melting into a glowing halo at the edges, and turned his eyes to a bright, gleaming amber as it gently kissed its way across his scarred face. There was a half-smile on his lips and his eyes were clear and happy as the breeze ruffled his hair. He was radiant and beautiful in a way John had never noticed before, hauntingly perfect and terrifying in the golden hour light. A saint. A memory he wished could be frozen in syrupy, amber light for the rest of his life.

John just stared, mouth slightly ajar as his stomach twisted in something akin to fear. The only thought in his head was I love you, and it was the most confident, most certain, most intense thought he had ever had in his life. And that scared him.

He hadn’t meant for it to happen. No one means to fall in love, he’d learned. But if he truly understood anything about being human, it was that understanding and handling emotions was, to put it lightly, a bitch. Emotions tended to do as they pleased with little regard to logic or plans or circumstances, or the poor, wretched souls which they plagued. 

And he hated it. 

He hated it so much.  

It meant despite his best intentions, John was irrevocably in love with the man whom he had hurt, betrayed, manipulated, and fought with a dozen times over. A man who certainly cared for him, but probably, no, definitely, did not love him. Not like this. John was little more than a monster, a parasite who had sucked the life from Arthur’s eyes and soul and ruined it. 

So, now he would have to tiptoe around his feelings and act like they didn’t exist, because saying them outloud would be a death sentence for their relationship. It couldn’t be that difficult, right? John had been fairly good at keeping his thoughts to himself when he had been inside Arthur’s head. Keeping his thoughts to himself when he was outside Arthur’s head could only be easier.

Looking back, he severely underestimated how difficult it would be.

Every time John thought he’d reached some kind of maximum, that he couldn’t love Arthur any more, something new would come along and he’d go falling all over again. A mannerism he’d never really noticed before, or a new poem Arthur had taken fancy to. He often wondered if humans could die from not talking about what they were feeling, from holding it in and bottling it up and shoving it away. He knew, in one way or another, repressed grief had almost killed Arthur after he lost Faroe. Hopefully, unexpressed love didn’t do the same.

He had to bite back an I love you when Arthur took Faroe to the park again and she, in her high-pitched, small voice, leaned down to the floor of the bridge overlooking the creek and said, “Are you there, troll?” When Arthur cried and assured Faroe that he was fine, just happy, dear. When he listened to her describing the ducks in the pond with the biggest smile John had ever seen grace his face.

He had to swallow I love yous every time Arthur went out for a walk and came back with a surprise of new poetry books for John to read and study.

He almost actually said the dreaded words when Arthur laughed long and hard at a stupid joke he’d made, but just managed to catch himself before the I love you slipped past his lips.

It was to this campaign of suppressed emotions that John was dedicated when he and Arthur found themselves on a walk to the park on a dull, overcast afternoon. Faroe was at school, and Arthur needed a break from his cases before he drove his mind into the damn ground with them, so John decided some exercise would do them both good. Arthur, ever dedicated to his work, had groaned and complained about leaving loose ends unsolved, but nevertheless pulled on his shoes and coat.

They headed out of the apartment, arm in arm, Arthur chuckling good-naturedly at a wry comment John made about his case-solving habits.

“Now, John,” Arthur sighed, a lovely half-smile playing across his lips as they strode down the sidewalk together, “you can’t honestly expect me to not work? Investigative work isn’t exactly regular, but it certainly makes a good deal more money than bartending does.”

“I never said I didn’t want you to work, Arthur. I only said that maybe you were working too much,” John argued. 

“Working too much? I don’t think that’s true. Working too little, well, that seems a bit more likely,” Arthur replied, tilting his head to accentuate his point.

John sighed, and was glad, not for the first time, that Arthur couldn’t see the small, fond smile blossoming across his face. “Arthur, how many hours in the past week have you slept?”

“Well-”

“And how many times have you eaten or drank water without me reminding you?”

“John, I-”

“And exactly how much time have you spent with me or Faroe? Sitting on the couch reading case files while we are nearby does not count.”

“I’m spending time with you right now, you know. Does that count, my dear?” Arthur asked, voice dripping with affectionate sarcasm.

John rolled his eyes, trying to ignore the flutter deep in his stomach at Arthur’s oh-so casual use of a pet name. “Absolutely not. You only came with me because I dragged you out of the house. If I hadn’t forced you, you would have sat at that table until doomsday.”

“I would not!”

“Arthur, you would have!”

“That is simply untrue, John. I very much enjoy taking walks with you. They’re the highlight of my day!”

“You complained from the second you began putting your shoes on about ‘leaving loose ends untied’ and ‘time is money’.”

Arthur sighed dramatically. “Must we fight again?”

“Only if you’re going to continue being such a stubborn ass.”

“Oh come now, you know how a fight will upset the children.”

Arthur sounded like a character from one of those radio dramas Faroe was so fond of listening to, the ones where someone was always getting betrayed or making a shocking new discovery, all loud voices and exaggerated emotions and cheesy acting. John couldn’t help it. Arthur sounded so silly and ridiculous that he snorted.

Arthur paused for a second, and then grinned brighter than the summer sun at noon, clearly egged on by John’s response. “They can’t grow up in an environment like this! Do you have any idea what a divided household will do to their psyches?”

Despite his best efforts to keep it bottled up, a laugh was bubbling up John’s throat, silently shaking his chest with the force of an earthquake.

“John, we’ll simply ruin them if we keep arguing! We must keep the peace! Think of the children, darling! Will no one protect the children?!”

John had given up on trying to hold the laugh back. It exploded out of his chest in a joyous firework burst of sound, rattling through his ribcage and stomach like it was shaking him down for money. Arthur’s bright, sunny laugh joined in shortly after, and John could swear he saw it glittering like a lit sparkler as it weaved itself into the air around them. And then the two of them were laughing, almost hysterically, as they walked, arm in arm down the sidewalk, stumbling and leaning on each other as though they were drunk on happiness. And maybe they were. Could one get drunk on elation? John wasn’t sure, but he couldn’t remember a time when he had felt better in his life. They laughed, and laughed, and laughed, until tears were streaming from both of their faces and John had to pause walking to wipe them away. 

He reached over to Arthur’s face with a gentle hand and wiped the tears away from his face as well. God, he was beautiful. Still shaky with the last few gasps of laughter, with a smile like Faroe’s on Christmas morning, sunny and beaming with joy. John smiled softly as he swiped his thumb over Arthur’s cheekbones. He wanted to hold Arthur’s face for just a moment longer. Just a second. Maybe if he wished hard enough, the moment would never pass, would be encased in amber memory forever, bright and crystalized and unbreakable and beautiful.

But the moment did pass, as all moments do. 

A sudden chorus of soft laughter drew John’s attention away from Arthur and towards a group of young ladies and gentlemen clustered farther up on the sidewalk. They were whispering and giggling to each other as they walked, which wasn’t out of the ordinary for folks of their age. But something about them made the hairs on the back of John’s neck prickle with discomfort. Their laughter and murmurings seemed too… secretive. Too accusatory. They weren’t just chattering among themselves, John realized. They were pointing, too, stealing not-so subtle glances at something they clearly found incredibly amusing. Were they laughing at him? Or Arthur?

John shook his head to clear the thoughts away as he took his hand off Arthur’s face. Maybe they had just seen an amusing film, or someone had told a funny joke about one of the nearby shops. John was just overreacting. It was fine. It had to be fine, even though every instinct he possessed was telling him otherwise. He took Arthur’s arm again and continued walking in the direction of the park. The sooner they made it away from this group, the better he would feel.

A distant roll of thunder shivered through the air as John locked eyes with one young lady whispering into the ear of a friend, who pointed at John and Arthur while snickering in response to her silent comment. John’s stomach twisted in humiliation and fury. 

They were laughing at him and Arthur.

John took a shaky breath in and grit his teeth as he glared at the group passing by. One of the boys stuck out his tongue. Whispers of “fucking queers” and “homosexuals” in venomous tones floated over the breeze and into John’s ears. Another child picked up a small pebble from the sidewalk and threw it in their direction as he passed, hitting John squarely between the shoulders. John froze in his tracks.

The fragment of a god that still lived in his heart wanted to rip them all to shreds, watch them bleed out and suffer on the sidewalk for the crime of daring to laugh at a being so powerful their mortal minds could barely comprehend its edges. He felt so sharp and angry that he wondered if he could spear them all through just by spitting at them. Maybe he could get away with tearing them limb from limb with his bare hands. But part of him didn’t want to start a fight and just wanted to leave as quickly as possible. If he fought, Arthur could get hurt again, and it would be just another way John had ruined his life. That damned bit of humanity that was lodged in his soul wouldn’t let him cause Arthur any more pain (and John was finding that the human part tended to win out these days). He was still for a moment longer, listening to the battle of god and mortal raging in his mind.

And then John, former piece of the King in Yellow, put his head down and walked away, dragging a very confused Arthur with him.

He was crying a bit as they turned the corner he realized, furious tears carving hot, woodburned lines down his face and turning the world into a wobbly, grey mess. He felt so fucking small. So humiliated. And raw. And angry. Over something as stupid as a kid laughing at him. A kid laughing at him had enough power to make him cry? How perfectly fucking ridiculous. It only made him feel worse.

“John? John, what’s wrong?”

Arthur sounded so concerned, so gentle and careful with his words. He always did when John got upset like this. But John stayed silent, jaw locked in place with the force of his fury, like toffee sticking sickly sweet between his teeth. Some part of him was afraid that if he spoke, the words would burst on his tongue like a series of grenades, and the shrapnel would kill him and Arthur both. 

“John. John, please. Please slow down for a minute.”

John just kept walking, making a sharp right into the gates of the park and crunching his way along the gravelly walkway. Before him, trees covered in their late summer leaves dotted across the meadow and near the edge of the pond, which was coated with a thin layer of ducks and frogs and lily pads. The last of the summer wildflowers wobbled in the breeze as thunder grumbled its way overhead, a warning bell for the storm to come, and John wished for a moment he had the foresight to grab an umbrella on his way out of the apartment. It was some small distraction from the clamoring mess of angry emotions all vying for attention in his head. 

“John! For fuck’s sake, will you stop walking and talk to me?!”

John stopped in his tracks. “What do you want, Arthur?” He cringed as the words left his mouth far sharper and more vicious than he had meant them to be.

Arthur’s face was pinched with concern that had mutated into frustration as he took a step forward and glared up in John’s general direction. “What the fuck happened? Why were you rushing off like that?”

“It’s nothing,” John huffed. “I’m fine.”

“No, you are not, and don’t you even fucking think of trying to lie to me.”

John sighed deeply. Damn Arthur’s fucking detective instincts. Damn them all to hell. “I don’t want to talk about it, Arthur. Have you ever considered that?”

“At least give me an idea!”

“Why should I?”

“I’m assuming you saw something I didn’t, and it’s a bit difficult to figure out what is visually wrong when you’re fucking blind, John. So what happened?”

John sat in that stony silence for a moment, staring at Arthur’s determined and frustrated expression. Overhead, the thunder loudly voiced it’s complaints about their conversation, and a few drops of cool rain began to fall.

“Those kids were laughing at us,” John muttered, feeling his face begin to grow hot with embarrassment.

“What?” Arthur asked, brows furrowed in confusion.

“There was a group of kids on the sidewalk that passed us. They were… pointing at us. Laughing to each other.”

“I heard them laughing, yes. That’s what upset you so badly?”

“We needed to leave,” John huffed. “We were at risk.”

“They were kids, John. I don’t think we were in any real danger-”

“They were calling us names! They threw a fucking rock at me!” 

“And that’s what children do! How many times has Faroe thrown a toy at you? Or shredded papers because she was playing pretend?” Arthur shouted, spreading his arms open wide.

“This was different,” John growled, the thunder rumbling in answer to his tone as the rain began to pick up.

“How, John? How was this different?”

“We were in danger! You could have gotten hurt, Arthur!”

“John, for the last fucking time, they were kids. I think I can handle myself around children.”

“I was trying to keep you safe.”

“You don’t need to keep me safe!”

“Yes, I do!”

“WHY?”

“BECAUSE I LOVE YOU!”

John immediately regretted ever having vocal chords of his own. Arthur was silent. The only sound was the heavy rainfall, thick drops mirroring the sudden, fearful tears sliding down John’s face as he stared in horror at Arthur’s reaction. He seemed frozen, his eyes were blown wide with surprise and mouth open in a small, tight oh. Even as the rain began to soak through his hair and coat, he still looked so fucking beautiful. 

“I love you, Arthur, alright? I can’t- I haven’t been able to say it because I know it would mess everything up. I love you. I’ve loved you for a long time.”

And John couldn’t bear to look at him. At what he had done. He’d just fucked up everything so beautifully, hadn’t he? First he couldn’t stand up for himself (against a group of kids no less), then he admits to being in love with his best friend in the pouring rain, which would give them both a nasty cold if they didn’t get out of it soon, and he would never be able to talk to Arthur normally again without this moment appearing and making everything awkward-

And then Arthur’s hand was on his cheek.

John froze and could have sworn his heart skipped a beat as Arthur’s fingers brushed gently over his features, outlining his eyebrows, his nose, his cheekbones, his lips. This was… unexpected. The look on Arthur’s face was so soft, so tender. Nothing at all like the frustrated explosion it had been only moments before. His amber eyes flicked back and forth across John’s face with no clear point of focus. There was some emotion lurking in them that John couldn’t quite catch. Pain? Longing? He couldn’t tell. Thunder crackled across the sky, accompanied by a flash of purple-white lightning. The rain kept falling. Arthur leaned in like he was going to whisper something in John’s ear, and then hesitated.

And then Arthur’s lips were on his, and it was like the world exploded.

The cold drops of rain were gone, and the thunder nothing more than background noise for the fireworks show happening in John’s head. Everything in the whole wide world was replaced by the warm press of Arthur’s lips on his. Every nerve in his body was alive and sparkling like sunlight dancing across water and Jesus Christ, if this wasn’t what John had wanted for so long, had dreamed about for months on end. It was exactly as perfect as he had imagined it would be, and God, it felt so good to kiss Arthur. So right. So warm and close and beautiful, fucking hell, was this why people kissed each other? To feel like this? John had been missing out, hadn’t he? 

Arthur pulled away first and pressed his forehead to John’s. “Always so dramatic,” he murmured with a smile.

John’s brain was short-circuiting. There were thoughts scrambling around his head so rapidly it was difficult to simply pick one to voice aloud. “I- wait. You- you don’t hate me?”

Arthur chuckled. “No, you absolute idiot. Or else I wouldn’t have kissed you.”

“I- you kissed me…” John said through a daze. He half wondered if his legs would be able to keep him upright for the time it would take them to walk back to the apartment. Currently, they seemed to be about the consistency of jelly, and the rain making the path under their feet slippery wasn’t exactly helping matters.

“In case the kiss didn’t make it clear, I… I love you too, John. I have for a long time,” Arthur said softly, running his fingers along John’s jaw. “Thank you for looking out for me, darling. I’m sorry I yelled at you. I was just trying to understand.”

John was glad yet again that Arthur couldn’t see the giddy grin and blush that had taken over his face when Arthur said the word “darling”. He probably looked fairly stupid, but he could care less. Arthur loved him, too. Arthur felt the same way. Jesus Christ Almighty, Arthur had just kissed him.

“Uh huh,” John breathed, trying not to completely fall over. “Yeah. Okay.”

Arthur chuckled a bit. “Did you think I didn’t feel the same way?”

“I- Well, how was I supposed to know?! I’m not a mindreader!”

“Christ, John, you can be dense sometimes, can’t you? I think it has been fairly obvious that I am in love with you.”

“Obvious to you! I’m sorry your uptight English nature isn’t exactly the easiest thing in the world to read,” John said, rolling his eyes affectionately.

“Hey now, my ‘uptight English nature’ has gotten us both out of plenty of scrapes and you know it,” Arthur replied, a sunny grin gracing his face. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, keep talking about how your pretty face has saved us all,” John said with a sigh.

“You think my face is pretty?”

John froze for a moment before he grabbed Arthur’s arm and turned sharply on his heel in the direction of the park gates. “Let’s go before we both catch pneumonia!”

“John, you didn’t answer my question,” Arthur said in a sing-song voice, falling into step beside John as they began to make their way home.

John sighed heavily. “Yes, Arthur, I think your face is pretty. Oh, wipe that smug grin off. Have a little mercy on me.”

“Who’s grinning?” Arthur asked, smiling from ear to ear like the damn Chesire cat from Faroe’s books.

John rolled his eyes again. It was going to be a long, lovely walk back to the apartment.