#also no matter what i did i could not cover up that stray bit of collar in the second picture so i just said fuck it

[jeonginslefthand]

More please ♡🩸

Pairing: Vampire!BangChan x Reader Genre: Suggestive (18+. minors/ageless blogs do not interact <3)/Thriller Word count: 2.0k+ Summary: You caught Chan in the middle of his midnight activities, marking the start of an unexpected relationship.  Warnings: Kidnapping mentioned, force feeding, grinding, biting, blood (lots of it), implications of depression A/N: Railway MV has made me feral and I had an idea. Also hope writing this will cure my writer's block for the San series cause I'm struggling rn. This is more of a drabble and [mostly] proofread. Hope y'all enjoy 🫶 Stray kids masterlist

~~~

“I need more~”

It hurts when Chan bites into your neck. You expected some pain, but not a pain like this. It stings and there’s an ache you can’t begin to describe. But it feels somewhat arousing. Chan on top breathing heavily as he is sucking the life out of you makes you feel something in your core. You forget for a moment that his teeth are sunk in your veins as the agonizing pain turns into pleasure. 

It’s hard to say how you got here in the first place. You and Chan had been acquainted since he moved to your neighborhood a few years ago. Nothing he did ever tipped you off that he could be hiding this secret. And Chan had been careful to keep this secret too. Surviving off animal blood, only feasting on human flesh when he needs to. He was sure he would never get caught. Until last night when you decided to take the shortcut path on your nightly walk and stumbled upon the area where Chan does his bidding. You were frozen in fear unsure what to do as Chan looked at you. So he did what any vampire in hiding would. He took you back to his hideout away from the world until he could figure out his next move. 

And here you are, under him as he’s making up for his interrupted midnight snack. By now he feels he sufficiently made up for the interruption and slowly removes his teeth from your neck. You feel that stinging pain again and feel a bit faintish. You see out the corner of your eye blood dripping from the two fresh holes. Gross yet arousing at the same time. Chan notices and licks up the excess blood as if he wants to savor your taste. You feel another jolt of pain, but Chan massaging the area with his tongue helps to ease the pain and turns it into more pleasure. 

“Your blood tastes so sweet~” Chan growls as he licks the remaining blood and pulls away from you. “I swear I could drink this forever.” 

It sure felt like he was going on forever. You even forgot that he did kidnap you and that the bodies of his previous victims surrounded you. Coming back to reality the fear returns to you wondering if that is your fate. 

“C-Chan… I promise I won’t tell anyone about this. A-and you can have all the blood you want just please let me go.” You mutter out on the verge of tears. 

“Oh I will have all the blood I want, 'cause you’re not leaving here,” Chan responds smiling, baring his sharp teeth now covered in blood. You flinch for a moment thinking he’s going back in for seconds. Chan notices and chuckles in response. 

“Don’t worry dear, I won’t hurt you more than I need to. It would be a shame if you died on me.”

~~~

Despite the situation, Chan is pretty gentle with you. Aside from the blood-sucking sessions, he makes sure you’re well taken care of. You find out that the place you’ve been taken to was a castle, somewhere far off in the mountains. You slowly fall in love with the gothic architecture exploring a new room each day. You even have your room, decorated head to toe in the dark gothic aesthetic with a soft queen-sized bed made just for you. 

Chan cooks for you every night. At first, you refused to eat the meals, still in fear of what he could do and barely working up an appetite. After a few days of the act, Chan got annoyed and one day took matters into his own hands. 

“Come on sweetie, if you don’t eat your blood won’t pump properly and you’ll be weak.” Chan calmly says as he forces a piece of chicken into your mouth. You try your hardest to resist but his vampire strength overpowers you. Tears well up in your eyes and fall on your plate. You want to spit the chicken out but you can’t bring yourself to it as Chan stares at you intensely, wiping the tears away from your cheek. 

“Aww don’t cry. It’s okay, you’re okay. The chicken tastes good right?” Chan coos and you nod in response. 

“Good. Then swallow~” Chan commands.

You hesitate for a moment but reluctantly swallow. The chicken wasn’t bad, but you still feel a lump in your throat. You want your body to reject the food so badly but you also hadn’t eaten for days and knew that eventually you would have to give in. 

Chan feeds you the rest of the chicken and side dishes. This was the only way you were going to eat for that night, still in fear that he could do much worse. After that day you stopped refusing to eat knowing that Chan wouldn’t hesitate to force-feed you again. You two started having somewhat normal dinners. Chan would talk about his day and sometimes the drama going on at his day job and you would talk about the room you explored that day and your thoughts. Sometimes he would talk about his past life, his experiences, and what it was like being the way he is. These deeper talks made you more intrigued about him. He was slowly peeling back layers revealing his true nature, showing there was some humanity left in those eyes. 

~~~ 

Of course, Chan would still get a taste of your blood now and then. Biting in the same spot, careful not to take too much that you faint, but enough to keep him satisfied for a few weeks. You got used to the pain and a part of you almost looked forward to these sessions. The pure ecstasy you felt with Chan on top and pressed against you as you were helpless under him, you almost didn’t want him to stop. You wanted more from him. 

One time you decided to make a bold request to Chan at dinner.

“I want you to suck my blood tonight,” you stated clearly. Chan nearly chokes on his food shocked that you’re taking the initiative this time. 

“Y/N, I appreciate the offer and you know I would love that. But I’m fine it’s only been a week.” Chan responds.  

“But I want you to! I need that feeling of you sinking your teeth into me. It’s addicting and I want more of it!” 

Chan gets up and walks over to your seat and leans towards you. 

“I have a better idea sweetie~,” Chan says. 

“And what is that?” you respond, desperate for him to do something. Anything.

Chan leans in closer and presses his lips into yours. You don’t hesitate to reciprocate kissing him back. The same feeling of desire is felt between both of you, but more intense than when Chan is stealing your blood. Eventually, you stand up and push him on the table (well, more like he lets you) kissing him deeper and with a passion you’ve never felt. The air feels warm around you, savoring Chan’s taste while your mind’s on cloud 9. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t fantasized about this. Wondering what his lips would feel like in other areas of your body besides the sensitive vein of your neck. 

The burning desire in your core doesn’t settle down and you instinctively grind on Chan’s thigh to get some kind of relief. Chan doesn’t notice drunk on his desire for you, but eventually, he pulls away and places his hands on your hips. 

“Feeling a bit needy today I see~” Chan teases. 

“Oh you have no idea,” you say shakily, catching your breath.

Chan starts to respond with a witty joke but you sink back into his lips before he responds. You kiss him harder than the first time and the desire builds up in your core harder. The room feels it’s on fire as you and Chan feel each other’s hot breaths and as you continue to grind his thigh. Chan gets so lost in your soft moans that he doesn’t notice his fangs grazing your bottom lip. He presses on your lips harder and his fangs accidentally sink into your lip as you yelp in pain. Shocked by your scream, Chan quickly pulls away from you, but also accidentally knocks over a plate in the process remember that the two of you were making out on the dinner table. 

“Oh my god Y/N I’m so sorry!” Chan says concerned, caressing your lip. The blood quickly drips down from your mouth covering the lower half of your face. 

“Chan I’m fine! It didn’t hurt but it was shocking. Maybe… warn me next time,” you respond with a witty tone. 

“Funny. But still, don’t want you to lose too much blood.” Chan leans towards your lips again and starts licking up the blood starting from your chin and ending with your bottom lip. He passionately licks every last drop like it’s the last he’ll ever get your blood. 

“Say… why don’t we continue this somewhere else,” Chan suggests as he pulls away from you. You look at him hazy with lust and out of the corner of your eye notice a certain desire growing in his pants.

“I think that’s a great idea love~”     

~~~

After that erotic night, it felt like time slowed down living with Chan. You’ve lost count of how long you’ve been here. Maybe a couple of months? A little under a year? In your mind, you knew you had to go back to your old life, back to your friends and family. They have probably been looking for you. But in your heart, you didn’t care. Nothing in your life mattered anymore except Chan and his twisted love for you. You would give anything to be with him, to stay with him forever. 

One night as the two of you cuddled in bed, you suddenly brought up another proposition. 

“Channie, do you think you can… turn me into a vampire?” you ask suddenly. 

“W-what?!” Chan says, taken aback. 

“I-It’s just an idea. I’ve seen it done a lot in vampire shows. But knowing what I know about you now I don’t know how accurate that is. And I realize that you’re the only one I want to be with for a long time and it would suck dying knowing you would still live on forever…” 

Chan is silent processing your request. You give him some time and then follow up with your statement.

“It’s okay if you can’t and I’m probably overthinking this. That’s so far ahead of us and I’m happy spending whatever time we have. I just love you so much and—”

“No no, I can turn you. It’s possible but… are you sure you want this?” Chan says cutting you off. “It’s a dangerous path to take. The constant bloodlust is not easy to control. And there are many days that there will be a numbing feeling you can’t get rid of. Constantly feeling empty and at some point feeling like life isn’t worth it is not something I want for you.”

“I don’t care if I spend the rest of my days hating the world. As long as I’m with you I won’t feel empty. Doesn’t matter if that’s 10 years or the next 1000 years, life with you will always have meaning!” 

Another moment of silence passes and Chan pulls you into his chest. He starts stroking your hair as he responds.

“There’s no talking you out of this is there?” Chan sighs. 

You giggle into his chest. “I’d do anything to be with you for as long as I can!~” 

Chan kisses your forehead. “Then, enjoy your last night being human love~”

You fall asleep into Chan’s arm as he drifts off to sleep. Who knew what the next years would look like for the two of you? You dream of all the potential adventures you two would go on, the lives you would live. It would be chaotic and messy, but that didn’t matter to you. In the end, you can call the man you once feared yours and you were his. And you couldn’t want anything more.

~~~

If you liked this leave a like, reblog, and/or comment! I appreciate it and thanks for reading!

[ihavethedreamiesx]

Only You | Bang Chan [NSFW]

Bang Chan - Stray Kids

Rating: M (18+) MDNI

Word Count: ~4.5k

Pairing: King! Bang Chan x Noble! AFAB! Reader

Genre: Historical AU!, Joseon Era, Reader-Insert, Fluff, Smut, Some Plot, Strangers-to-Married

!!This is smut…if that much isn't clear you should probably leave now!! MDNI!

Warnings: She/Her Pronouns used, Swearing, Kissing, Oral (F! Receiving), Fingering, First Times (Readers), Breeding Kink (a bit), Unprotected Sex (This is pre-birth control so…), Big Dick! Chan (duh)

Summary: You are a nobleman's daughter and your father is struggling to find you a husband. The king refuses to marry all of the women brought to him and will not take any concubines. You end up meeting each other.

Author's Note: Oh boy! Here is the first part my dudes. I wanted to have this out sooner but I'm living with my uncle with my parents right now and so I don't have the same freedom to hole away in my room all day like I would prefer. Also can't really write smut in the living room with your dad like two seats away from you.

At the bottom I will have a guide for all the untranslated words I use, or this post.

Also, if any of my historical information/words are inaccurate, I apologize, I did the best with what research I could and what I know from watching too many historical K-Dramas.

-> Lee Know's <-

-> Changbin's <-

-> Felix's <-

Revised (1/31/25)

I am cross-posting this on Archive. Please reblog! Share, even if its to the other sites! Let me know if you want to be on the taglist!

Sighing deeply for a third time, you lazily turns the page of your book, head tilting to rest on your shoulder. Your braid falls over your shoulder, the purple daenggi draping down and covering the characters in the book. Doesn’t matter, you aren’t really reading it anyway. Already have several times. It’s nearly impossible to get books you haven't already read several times, or things that are actually interesting to you, because your father won’t let you get them. Most of the books not directed toward women that you have, you more or less smuggled into your house. Because of that, it’s hard to get more, and so you’re once again bored with your choices. A delicate breeze wafts in through the open window, a small bird flittering down to rest on the sill. You look over its various shades of brown feathers and you wonder if you could ever get a book for studying birds. Probably possible, but not probable. Men don’t want women that know more than them, that's why you can't keep a suitor. Your father's voice echoes in your head, and you roll your eyes. Unfortunately, though, it seems he’s right. You’ve had many suitors out of the sons of noblemen, but none of them stay around too long when your conversations turn from dainty and feminine matters to things that actually make them think. Looking out to the sky, you wonder if there’s anyone out there at all that wouldn’t mind your learned state.

 ~₸x₸~

On a day you’re actually able to go out, you’re grateful it was your brother who could go with you. You’re both wandering the various seller's stands and storefronts, only just glancing at most things. If you had a guard escorting you, you wouldn’t be able to smuggle another book home, but your brother will help you. As you pretend to look over various different earrings, you cast a glance from under your sseugaechima to where your brother is at the book seller. Rummaging through what they have, he holds a few up to look closer at the contents before putting them back down. Must all be fiction… Looking back at the wares before you, you nod to the shopkeeper and move on, instead looking at some shoes. You’re closer then to your brother, enough that you can see when he holds a book up toward you, pretending to rest it on his shoulder as he continues looking, likes he’s reserving it. When you catch his side glance, you shake your head no. Already have it. He sniffs, putting it back, and keeps looking. As you move on yourself, across the way, you watch a young nobleman sidle up next to your brother. He’s a great deal shorter; it almost makes you giggle, but you try to remain inconspicuous.

"Oh, m’lord, the book you were looking for arrived!" The book seller slips inside his shop, coming back with a book you’ve never seen anything like before.

"I managed to get in contact with the Arab trader and he got it here all the way from the far west!" The book seller smiles wide, and you’ve fully turned around at that point, your brother looking over his shoulder at you.

"Thank you." The man smiles, handing over a significant string of mun before turning to leave. You aren’t able to react fast enough, and he catches you looking at him. Well, not him, but the book he’s holding. It’s bound in what looks like leather and you’ve never seen writing like it.

"Wait, my lord, this as well!" The shopkeeper reaches under his stall and the man goes back, taking the locally bound book from him.

"Might be hard to read without the translation." The young lord smiles and then goes to leave again, pointedly looking right at you as he does, a small smirk on his face.

"Let's follow him." You whisper to your brother, yanking him down to your level.

"Are you sure? He paid a lot for that, he's not just going to give it to you, and we don't have that kind of money on us."

"I just want to look at it, come on." You hiss out, following after the man before he gets too far out of view. You hear your brother sigh dramatically, but he hurries after you anyway, making sure he doesn’t lose sight of you.

You finally manage to catch up with the man in a small courtyard behind a restaurant not yet open. He’s standing at the edge of the stream, watching it, the two books held in his grasp as he rests his arms behind his back. Right as your brother catches up with you, the man turns around, a playful smile on his face. It’s then you realize how gorgeous he is.

"Interested in this?" He turns toward you, holding the book up, and in your excitement, you drop your sseugaechima, the garment fluttering to the ground.

"(Y/N)!" Your brother scolds, grabbing the head covering. You’ve moved so fast, you’re already standing in front of the man, ogling the book. Even though he’s probably four or even five chon shorter than your brother, he’s still nearly a head taller than you.

"Aigo, put this back on." Your brother drapes the garment back over your head, dragging you back by the shoulders a few steps.

"Wait!" You reach for the book, not having gotten to touch it, but your brother steps in front of you. Stupid societal chauvinism.

"Apologies, my lord, but she's…intense about her hobby." You roll your eyes behind your sibling.

"This isn't a normal book." The other man said, and you roll your eyes harder. Obviously, that's why you want it!

"It's all the way from Dogil." Huh? Where?

"If she wants to look at it, she can." You shove your brother out of the way, so hard he not just stumbles, but falls on his butt. The man holds the book out to you and with shaky hands you take it. The text is so incredibly foreign, and when you flips the book open, it doesn’t even look handwritten. Then again, you can’t be sure since it’s such a foreign script. Little symbols sit in the top corner of each page, and the words are horizontal rather than vertical. Each little letter is so small, the book cramped with lines. It’s heavy too.

"This goes with it." The other man holds the translation book up and you snatch it from his hands without thinking.

"(Y/N)!" Your brother scolds, hurrying to get off the ground.

"She's fine." You move toward a bench and sit down, opening the translation on top of the foreign text. Though, it isn’t a direct translation, just a catalog of what each word means. It would take time to fully translate it.

"C-can I translate it fully?" You look up at the man, your sseugaechima falling off your head again. He smiles and your heart skips a beat, but you aren’t sure if it’s because he smiles, or what the smile means.

"I would rather not just give it to you. What if you don't give it back?" His tone is slightly teasing. You deflate then and he holds back a chuckle.

"You know, I have a lot of far western texts that I don't have the time to translate myself. You could come to my home and do it for me?"

"Wait-" Your brother's tone grows stern and you look between them, the other man holding his hand up to stop the other's words.

"Rather improper I know. Though, the King can get away with quite a bit." The man is smirking, and your eyes widen. What?

"Y-You're-" You meet your brother's gaze and you both fall to your knees before him, bowing so your foreheads touch your hands. Immediately, you realize how brazen your actions were. You’re doomed-

"Don't worry about it." He waves you both off and you stand, head still bowed, avoiding looking at his face. Instead, you glance back at the books. You wonder if the book seller even realizes who he is. Your brother sits up, but remains on one knee, if he stood, he’d be higher than the king. That is not allowed.

"What is your name? Who is your father?" He asks and you swallow hard, trying to get words out. You speak your name and family clan, as well as your father's name and rank. If he tells your father about what happened, you’ll never be allowed to touch another book.

"Your age?

"Twenty-two."

"You're unmarried?" He raises a brow, and you nod sheepishly. Reaching around your back to tug on the end of your braid, hanging down to signify your marital status.

"Your name?" He nods to your brother, and he tells him.

"Well, if you won’t mind showing me to your home. I would like to converse with your father." Oh, no.

~ʘᗩʘ~

Nervously pacing around your room, even down the halls through the building of the estate you inhabit, you wonder what is happening. You had scurried away like a scared mouse once you all returned to your home, looking behind you to the books held by the King. The King! Geez, you feel like you just escaped with your life. You hear your mother being summoned to go to your father and it’s been nearly an hour of them talking.

"(Y/N)." You hear a whisper from outside your bedroom window as you wander around it. You open the shutters and your brother's head barely can look over the sill from where he stands on the narrow edge of the building's platform base.

"What's happening?" You whisper back.

"A servant just brought them our family registry."

"What?" Why the heck would they need that?! Unless…

"You think he's going to court me?" Your legs feel week, you aren’t sure what to make of it. Your father has desperately wanted you married, but not enough to submit you to the palace. A life of luxury and prestige isn’t actually very safe. Most adversaries tend to target the women closest to the king since they’re easier targets. You know the King is unwed, and that the palace officials are just as fed up with him as your father is with you. Sure, you’d rather marry someone for love, but that’s hard to do as a noble. But if you do…that means you can have access to the King's library. Is that his plan to let you translate his foreign books without it being improper? Honestly, you’re fine with it. It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity. If marrying the king gives you access to even more knowledge and learning, than you’ll happily do it.

~◕ω◕~

After the long meeting, the King leaves, and your mother comes to inform you of the results. You’re right, he wants you to be his wife. But marrying a king to be the queen is much more intense than just being a concubine. Sure, the king has a lot of say, but so does his ministers and the Queen Dowager, his mother. Normally there’s a long selection process, but instead you’re brought to the palace and thoroughly analyzed by palace officials. They interview you rather extensively, then finally, his mother enters. After more questions, she leaves with the officials and you’re left to sit in the pavilion, looking at the water, uncomfortable in your nicest hanbok ensemble. All of your fanciest accessories are in your hair, on your goreum is a heavy norigae, and heavy jade earrings sit in your ears. You twist the jade ring on your finger in nervousness, feeling like you’re waiting for hours. Soon though, the Queen Dowager reenters along with a few handmaidens and a eunuch. You’ve been approved.

~◕‿◕✿~

A grand dowry is sent to your family's estate, and in return your belongings are sent in as well. You’re moved into a palace set aside for the future queen, and you’re beyond grateful that your chest of books makes it to your new home. Waiting for the actual ceremony and coronation, you’re puts through hours of etiquette training and lessons. Over the short time it takes for you to learn everything, and have the ceremony and coronation performed, the King has spent a considerable amount of time with you. Every minute he can spare. He doesn’t want you, nor himself, to marry a stranger. Never having been in love, you’re sure your feelings are either quite similar if not the predecessor for love. In a fleeting whisper he tells you his name is Chan, of course it’s part of his birth name rather than what he was crowned king with. He prefers you call him that though, even if you only can in private. When he can, he’ll bring a few of his foreign books for you to look at, but he says there isn’t time for you start the translations before all of the ceremonies. Chan seems just as passionate about knowledge as you are, and that makes you fall harder. And it appears to work that way for him as well.

The day before the wedding, as he leaves before the time is improper, he presses a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth with his soft lips. Your face blossoms red you’re sure, and he chuckles gently to himself as he leaves.

~◉_◉~

The wedding itself is…a mess. Well, figuratively and only to you. You feel like you’re being directed as a puppet going through so many specific rites and rituals. The most nerve-wracking part of the whole thing is being before so many people. Your tutor is proud you’ve learned all of your etiquette so well and you’re ninety percent sure you do everything just right. By the time night falls, you’re beyond exhausted. You aren’t sure if you’re more excited about your marriage, which feels more real thanks to your blooming feelings, or the future translation work. It’s nice though that your love of scholarly pursuits doesn’t turn him away like all of your other previous suitors.

Finally, though, everything is more or less complete. You’re wandering through the large room of the king's quarters, everything even fancier than where you had been. You pick at the white fabric of your sokchima, feeling naked despite being completely covered. Your hair is still in a chignon, the golden decorative binyeo holding it up makes your head feel heavy. It’s strange to have your hair up like that, but you’re going to have to get used to it. For some reason, it feels nice to have that weight, signifying you’re married, you honestly don’t want to take it out as much as you do want to. So, it stays. You’ve bathed, rather, been washed by maids before going to the king's quarters. You presume he too is washing up, and the longer he takes, the more nervous you get. Finally, the side door that leads further into the palace where the bath hall is opens. Your heart thuds against your rib cage as you see the King enter, also in white garments. He no longer has his headdress on, only the manggeon he wears under his crown is there. You wonder how long his hair is when down.

"My Queen." He smiles and you bite your lip, looking around almost like you’re checking to see if anyone’s around.

"What are you looking for, (Y/N)?" He steps closer, hand going to your chin, tilting your head up to look at him. All the lessons that have been drilled into you make you want to look away, but if he’s okay with it…

"We're really alone?" Not even his Eunuch is there, he follows him everywhere as per his job description.

"Yes, my love." Your breath hitches, the term of affection hitting your heart, and you step just a bit closer.

"W-we-" He steps once more, his lips placing a delicate peck on your forehead. Still not able to get any words out, his kisses move to your cheekbone, the side of your mouth, then his hand cups your jaw, tipping your head up. Your eyes meet his and you can’t keep yours from flitting to his lips. Chan smirks, and you gasp as he kisses you, hard. Your teeth clacked against each other at the force and your head swims, trying desperately to match his pace. You haven't been kissed before, not like this. Chan himself has given you a few small pecks, but this is different. He’s claiming you.

His strong hands grip your waist, one sneaking down your back to pull you closer, the other sneaking up the ties of your sokchima. The hand on your back goes even lower, gripping the flesh of your butt and you huff, Chan's tongue sneaking its way in your mouth. When he withdraws, you heave in breaths, heart racing and with a final tug, your sokchima falls to the floor, leaving you bare. You shiver, goosebumps rising on your skin, but his next actions distract you from the embarrassment of being bare. He undoes the ties of his own garments and as the white fabric pools at his feet, your eyes rapidly dance over him. You’re convinced he was molded directly by the deity of sex, because he’s gorgeous.

"Oh." You sigh and he huffs a laugh, moving closer, taking your hands in his, and bringing them to the ties of his sokbaji. Your hands brushes over him through the cloth, and you freeze.

"A-are you…?"

"No, love. But," his hands run over the bare skin of your back, pulling you to him, your naked breasts pressing to him.

"I’m getting there." Chan whispers in your ear, then he runs his tongue around the ridge, sucking on your earlobe. You whimper, turning your head to allow him access, fingers clenching the hem on his pants. His lips then move to your neck, laying searing kisses on the flesh, strong fingers digging into your skin, and when you’re pulled even closer, you feel his cock hardening in his pants.

"Come with me, my love." He pulls away and you pout in disappointment, making him laugh. The room spins as he yanks you to him, lightly shoving you onto the raised bed. You huff, then squeak when he grabs your ankles, yanking you to the edge of the platform, kneeling on the floor below.

"W-Wait, Chan-!" You try to close your legs, hide yourself from him, but he’s too strong, his hands grip your thighs to keep them spread.

"So cute." He hums and your entire body jerks, back arching as you feel his tongue swipe through your folds, the sensation almost overwhelming. It’s hard to get words out since you can barely take in air, your body immediately catching on fire, blood boiling. You hear him hum as he tastes you, and you flinch when his nose brushes your clit.

"C-Chan, it's too much!" You shudder, not sure how to handle the sensation.

"I need to get you ready, love, I don’t want to hurt you." He finishes his statement by wiggling his tongue inside you. The foreign sensation makes you clench, and he rubs your tense thighs with his thumbs.

"Relax, pretty girl." You try to do as he asks, taking measured breaths, whimpering when his tongue leaves you, flicking your button again. Heat pools in your belly, rising fast and you logically know what’s coming, but have never felt it before.

"I-I…fuck!" Your head tosses back, and he groans at the crass word leaving you. Chan kisses your clit and that sends you over the edge, wind roaring in your ears with your pulse, and you barely register him filling you with a finger.

"You're so fucking tight sweetheart." The curse word riles you up more than it even did when you said it for him. He helps your ride out the orgasm with that finger, each press against your back wall seeming to draw out your climax. Finally, the waves dull, then stop, and you finally recognize his finger inside you. Because he did it when he did, it doesn’t hurt, but it feels weird.

"Oh, you're so good." He smiles wide, his normal warm grin is hot with lust. You mewl when he starts to pump his finger, the wet squelch of your slick and release seems to be louder than anything else.

"That got you nice and wet for me, but you're too tight still." His thumb barely brushes your clit and your pussy clenches, body jerking again, it almost hurt.

"Sorry, love." He continues with the single digit and at some point, he decides to continue, and you let out a shuddering breath when he adds a second. That…doesn’t hurt per se, the slight burn of the stretch is somehow more pleasurable than painful, and you wonder how much his dick will make you sting.

"Oh, oh my-“ You try to hold back a whiny moan when his fingers wiggle and spread, getting you further prepared, the same pleasurable feeling starting to build back.

"Ah!" Chan adds a third finger, and you lift your head to look at him, one knee resting on the bed so he can kneel over you. Eyes flitting down, you notice the tent in his white pants, and you swallow hard. You don’t have any metric to go by since you have never been with or even seen a man naked, but-

"That won’t fit." You whimper, not even seeing him bare yet. Chan huffs a surprised laugh, looking at himself.

"I promise it will~" His fingers crook up again, hitting some intense spot inside you and you shiver at the sudden intensity.

"N-no, no, no!" You whine when he removes his fingers, the pleasure had begun to crest and even if it is overwhelming, it does feel good.

"Hold on, love, I'll fill you back up." You prop on your elbows to watch him, the tie of his sokbaji coming undone by his fingers, then the garment falls. Nope. Nuh-uh. Not gonna happen.

"Won’t fit." You gasp out and he has a hard time controlling his smug grin.

"Let's see about that." He scoops you up in his arms, moving you up the bed so your head can rest on the pillow. The cool silk of the bedding does nothing to quell the fire Chan has set on your skin, especially not when he prop himself over you.

"I love you." He leans down, nose rubbing over yours and you giggle at the innocent gesture.

"I love you too." Your hands cup his face, and he kisses you again, gentler than the first. Distracting you with the kiss, he hitches one of your knees over his elbow, his free arm bringing his hand back to your slick cunt. His fingers run through your arousal, then he pumps his fist over his hard cock, bringing the fat head to your entrance. Chan pulls back from the kiss, bringing your hands up to his shoulders.

"Dig your nails in if you have to." You should have taken it as a warning, not really sure what he meant. When his cock breaches your core, the heated burn sears through not just your cunt, but all the way through you. Your back arches, and your mouth hangs open in a quiet scream. You can’t tell whether it hurts or is such an intense pleasure your body malfunctions. His cock presses deeper, and you can feel his pulse inside you.

"So tight, fuck, hmm, love you’re just perfect~" He groans, relishing the sting of your nails digging into his skin. After what feels like an eternity, he bottoms out, the head of his dick kissing your womb.

"Y-you're in my throat." You gasp, trying not to clench around him too much, cunt stinging but weeping, a drop of your slick hitting the bedding.

"Does it hurt?" His hand brushes some sweat-damp strands of hair from your brow, and you shudder through some breaths.

"I-I don't know-" You’ve never felt anything like it before, obviously, and your brain seems to be stopping and starting again over and over. He’s being so patient, letting you adjust, but he shifts his weight differently, changing the angle slightly and the sting fades, pleasure rising, and you can’t get words out again. He must notice the change in your gummy walls' pulsing, because he grinds into you slightly and, stronger than before, you cum.

"Woah." Chan forces himself to breathe through your orgasm, the tight vice of your pussy nearly sending him over the edge and gushes of your slick shines on your skin as well as his. Your vision dots with stars and your head swims, you’re finally able to gasp for air, panting as you return to reality.

"Are you okay, love?" He strokes your cheek with his thumb, and you hold his hand to your face with your own. You nod, swallowing a buildup of saliva.

"Y-yes, you…you can move."

"Are you sure?"

"Please~!" Your whimper heightens into a moan as he pulls back just a bit, going slowly back in to make sure it doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t. Sure, it feels like he’s carving his cock through you, but it’s more than good.

"Tell me, sweet, if I hurt you." The next thrust, he pulls back a bit further, and back in harder.

"Please, Chan, you- fuck!" He picks up the pace just a bit, still going fairly slow, but the stretch of his fat cock is more than enough stimulation.

"D-don't-"

"Don't what, love?"

"Don't…oh, fuck, please, don't stop. Just-!" Your toes curl, throwing your head back, nails digging into the bedding as he pulls out about halfway, then buries inside you hard. He sits up more, slinging your other leg over his elbow as well, rolling his hips against yours. Chan's eyes skate all over you, beautiful and bare below him, and when he gets to your face he groans. Your eyes are hazy, mouth open, drool pooling from the corners of your lips. You’ve never felt anything even close to the pleasure he’s wreaking on you. You can’t think, and you seem to be losing strength in your body, the crest of another orgasm building.

"Shit- can't hold back anymore love." He grunts and you don’t have enough available thought process to react. He moves his hands to your thighs, pinning your knees up by your shoulders, then he pulls his fat cock out nearly all the way, and starts to pound into you. Tears rose in your eyes from the overwhelming feeling, little squeals of delight forced out of you with each thrust and your cunt spasms. Chan just thunders through your orgasm, not stopping or slowing and your eyes roll back.

"Fuck, you're just perfect love." He huffs a laugh, "oh, I can't wait to fuck you full!" All you can focus on is the heat of his dick and how much hotter your womb will feel full of his cum.

"Pl-please! Chan, please, fuck!" You gasp, his pace growing unsteady, and he finally fucks as deep as he can, hot ropes of cum filling you and painting your cunt white. Your belly is on fire and a combined glob of both of your releases drips out from where your bodies meet. As Chan pants, looking down at your fucked out state, he smiles.

"You're my wife now, only you."

daenggi - the ribbon that was tied around a unmarried girl's braid. sseugaechima - this is the extra-skirt looking garment women would wear over their heads. mun - Joseon Era Korean currency chon - historical unit of measurement, close to an inch. Dogil - Korean word for Germany, might not be completely accurate for the time. hanbok - traditional/historical clothing, most people think of women's dresses, but men's clothes were called this as well. goreum - the ties that fastened the top of a hanbok. norigae - accessories that were tied to the goreum of women's handboks sokchima - basically a dress/skirt like under-garment. binyeo - the long pin that would hold a woman's bun up, mostly used for married women. manggeon - the mesh-like headband men wore to hold their hair in place. sokbaji - pants-like undergarment, mostly worn by women under their chima

Master-List

Taglist: @huldrelokken, @estella-novella, @astrobebba, @kayleefriedchicken, @rhonnie23, @cassandramrn, @qwonyoung23, @minghaosimp, @stresskidz

[mothwingwritings]

Miscommunication

F!Reader X Pickle

Hello everyone! Sorry for the lack of communication. I’ve been doing this or that, working on stuff, surviving summer, you know how it is.

I have been picking away at quite a few fics recently, but I am all over the place so they are all getting worked on/done/edited at different paces. I wrote this lil Pickle fic in the midst of it all. It was born purely from the thought of a yandere licking up your tears that they themself were the cause of, so I picked a guy and ran with that. I chose Picky because my feral mans does NOTrealize how much of a menace he is to you but by God he’s gonna keep on forcing his love on you until one of you dies. :)

18+ ONLY PLEASE!!!

Thank you and enjoy!

WARNINGS: Noncon, forced interaction/cuddling, dacryphilia, miscommunication (if you couldn’t tell by the title), light editing, 18+ only!!!

There were plenty of things Pickle loved about you.

He loved the way you looked. So different from the people of his time, you were distinct in a way all your own. The moment he first laid his eyes upon you he was beseeched by curiosity, your unique appearance adding to the intrigue of your already undeniable beauty and charm. You were smaller, softer, and far more polished than the women he was used to. With glossy well-kept hair and not a mark of dirt or grime upon your body, you appeared to him to be almost glowing. This pure presentation made him feel as if he was beholding some glorious creature from another planet, not a mere human woman. You were definitely something that should be far out of his reach, breathtakingly lovely, but unattainable. Yet somehow here you were, right within his grasp, ripe for his consumption. Having such a gorgeous and otherworldly creature in his vicinity was far too enticing, how could he not be expected to stake his claim?

He loved the way you smelled, though those strange sprays you coated your body with were a bit much for his liking. He preferred your natural scent, the one you always tried to mask for whatever reason, the one that differentiated you from the rest of the herd. He could pick it out from anywhere at any time no matter how far from him you strayed, but it would become especially pungent when you were worked up or excited. He relished those moments, pleased to get a whiff of it through the artificial cover of stinking flowers and fruits. Heady and ambrosial, he would bask in your natural essence, inhaling it deeply as if he were receiving a treat.

He also loved the way you sounded, though your words made no sense to him. All the people that surrounded him seemed to make the same kinds of noises, their lips forming sounds that he was sure held all manner of meaning, but none of it he was privy to. Not that it mattered to him really. Different forms of communication suited him much better than spoken word ever could anyway, and despite the lack of common speech he shared with his new peers, he got by just fine. When Pickle bared his teeth or showed open pleasure, those that were nearby seemed to understand him all the same, so there had never been much need to put thought into their dialogue.

… That was, until he met you. It frustrated him sometimes, when you would speak to him with words he could not comprehend. When you talked with a smile he could assume he did something pleasing, or at the very least you weren’t upset, but when you would frown and raise your voice… What exactly was upsetting you? If it was something he did he wanted to correct it right away, your pretty smile suited you much better than a grumpy frown did. He’d do just about anything to keep it on your face forever, if only he knew the words to say or understood the specific requests you spoke to make that happen. The sounds that spilled from your throat… What praises and admonishments was he missing? What words could he say back to keep you smiling, laughing, happy? He wanted to know, struggled to know, but the language barrier was just too great, leaving him distraught and guessing.

When you spoke to other people (other men particularly) and they understood you perfectly, chuckling and nodding, responding to you in kind… It upset him. Who were they to communicate with you so freely? Who were they to speak with you so openly, when all he could seem to get across was rudimentary ideas and feelings? Even if he loved to hear the cadence of your voice, the lack of understanding and the annoyance these mysterious conversations caused was something he couldn’t quite shake.

But even with all the adoration he felt for you, there was one, and only one, thing he didn’t love about you- your tears.

In his era, cries from your mate meant one of a small handful of things. They were hurt and/or scared, there was a threat nearby and they needed protection, or they simply needed their mates help with something. Regardless of which of these options may have brought on the tears, it was always very easy to figure out what the situation was and for the other party to act accordingly.

But each time you cried was a conundrum. You never seemed to shed just a few tears, throwing your heart into full on wailing at the top of your lungs each time your eyes began to remotely water. Whenever this would occur he would momentarily panic, scooping your perturbed body up to force you against his chest, desperate in his attempt to ascertain a cause of concern that would bring you to this state, one that he could never seem to find. He’d turn your body around this way and that, scouring every inch of you with his eyes and hands to check and see if he could pinpoint any wounds or blood. But while you thrashed and fought as he carried out his inspection, his hands always came back clean, and you never seemed to show particular distress when he pressed down on any given area of your body (save for your more private areas, but you always put up a fuss with those). He’d investigate your surrounding area, prowling for anyone or anything that may have scared you or caused alarm, but found nary a soul or item out of place that could have caused you such distress.

That only left the third option- that you were looking to him for help. But help with what? He had already secured you in the safest place he could find, nestling you far away from any potential threats or creatures that could cause you harm. Though he knew you were not a fan of the dank, malodorous, stone underbelly of the village, it was something you would have to get used to. Keeping you elsewhere was simply too risky. Besides, this area was familiar to him, being not unlike some of the cave dwellings of his old home. And with the pathways being so straightforward and long, he could easily monitor surrounding activity and hide you away should someone show up to cause problems (not that anyone would, most seemed to ignore this place entirely, which was another one of its many appeals).

The paths also snaked deep underground, with exits leading rather far out from the more bustling areas of civilization. It made it easy to hunt and gather, so he had no problems providing you with food, clothing, bedding-anything at all you may need he brought to you, and he was happy to do so. He took honor in being your provider, your lover, your mate.

You were safe, you were cared for, and you were loved by him. He showed it in every way he could, serving and providing in ways that went above and beyond what any other potential partner could do for you. Down here in the depths, he shielded you from all that may have hurt you in your old life. Maybe he didn’t understand your speech, but he could clearly see the toll living with the others above ground was taking on you. Each slump of your shoulder and sigh from your lips was recorded in his memory, the weary look you often wore as you pushed yourself harder than necessary haunted his thoughts until he was pushed into action. Every man whose misplaced comments made you scowl had met a grisly end by his hands, assuring they would never bother you again. Every stress of your old life had been removed, all of the agonies of your previous day to day a thing of the past.

Now the only thing you had to focus on was being a good mate to him- a skill you already excelled at by simply existing. You had no need to be sad, you were perfect, and he was doing all he could to show you this.

So why? Why did you always cry?

Even now as he was buried deep inside of you, the pleasure of feeling you stretch to accommodate his massive size so intense he could barely maintain his sanity, tears continued to spill freely from your eyes.  There was absolutely no reason for them- you were always such a good girl for him, bringing him pleasure and joy he scarcely believed was achievable. If anything you should be proud about how well you take him, about how incredibly good you were making him feel, about how flawless you were as his mate. He loved you, he adored you, he would do any and everything for you, and he planned on doing so until his dying day.

Yet still, you cried.

He couldn’t keep them from happening, and he couldn’t think of any other way to stop them, so the least he could do is try and staunch them for a bit. Holding your face still between his hands, he laved his rough tongue slowly over the apples of your cheeks, passing over your tightly clenched eyes in an attempt to cleanse you of your malaise. Time and time again he lapped at your face like a mother lion cleaning it’s cub, moving from the left cheek to the right cheek in quick succession to drink up as many of your salty tears as he could.

Eventually it seemed to work, or at least it caused your upset sobbing to turn into little more than gentle mewling. Maybe you were just doing this to appease him, or perhaps you were finally sharing in the immense pleasure he had been experiencing, overshadowing whatever negative feelings caused you to cry to begin with. Regardless, the tears were trickling to a standstill, and while they weren’t completely quelled, seeing them diminish caused him to smile brightly. He could consider this a victory.

But as he stared down at your tear stained face, moist and red from a mixture of his saliva and your own upset, he couldn’t deny that there wasn’t a charm to witnessing you in such a state. As he picked up his pace, reaching a particularly sweet spot inside of you, you began to scream out, overcome with the intensity of it all. Once more water seeped into your eyes, and he watched mesmerized as fat tears slid down your face, accompanied by whimpers each time his brutal pacing brushed your core. The way your tears accented your ecstasy, adding to the breath taking view only he would ever have the delight of seeing, he couldn’t find himself hating your cries any longer.

Maybe he had been misguided this whole time, realizing now that this may just be another special attribute of yours. He was starting to understand you better, and felt a fool for being so mistaken for so long. Your cries were unique, acting as a sign of immense happiness, not distress. He laughed slightly at his own blunder, it wouldn’t be the first time he had misunderstood you, but this certainly was the most ridiculous miscommunication.

His smile grew as he thrust into you victoriously, elated at his triumph in unlocking a great mystery about you. This whole time he should have never tried to stop them. From now on, he should try and make you cry more.

[bluejutdae]

best friend Stray Kids saving you (or being saved by you) from a bad date | Hyunjin x you

Chan , Minho, Changbin, Jisung , Felix, Seungmin, Jeongin.

a/n: finally I managed to write the last part of this series, the Hyunjin part! There’s not much “saving” here because I had this dramatic idea in my head and I didn’t want to renounce to it. Enjoy!

The rain outside has been incessant for days, so many that it started to be difficult to recognize the time of the day just by looking at the sky. Everything it’s gray, and you almost forgot about this date. The guy is the cousin of one of your colleagues, and you would have canceled it if only you had a bit more hope. Not on this date, you know it’s gonna end up with you telling the guy it’s not the time for you for a relationship or some other fake excuse, you’ll apologize for wasting his time and the truth is: you do feel sorry for wasting his time, but staying home knowing Hyunjin is probably out there kissing his girlfriend and having fun made you a bit selfish. You ignored him for the last 5 days, after he called you at 2 am and you couldn’t help it but hope it meant something. But what would it mean? You’ll never know, cause you didn’t answer.

Your heartache clings to you like molasses, covers you head to toes, you can feel it under your teeth. You’re so used to it, it doesn’t scare you anymore. But it’s so tiring to wake up everyday and do the same routine: wear your clothes, slip in your shoes, put on your grief, grab your purse. Day after day.

The restaurant you’re having your date at is a nice one, you often order takeout from it. The only downside is that it doesn’t deliver home, so anytime you want its amazing food, you have to get out of your house and come collect it. It’s worth it.

Shivering in your cute top, you nod to something your date just said and reach for the wine glass. You have nothing in common with him, you barely remember his name. Was it Minjoon? Minhyun? Once again something distracts you from the conversation (it’s a monologue, at this point) when you hear your phone chime, signaling a message. And since love is blind, and most days it’s also stupid, you can clearly recognize the tune you use for Hyunjin and Hyunjin only.

You have been ignoring him, but you were sure he didn’t even notice. Ten minutes pass and you’re on the verge of just leaving the date, apologize profusely and go home to cry. The bell on the door chimes as someone enters and, once again not paying attention to the man in front of you, your eyes wanders to look at whoever enters. It could have been a couple grabbing dinner, it could have been parents celebrating their kid’s success, it could have been anyone. But just as love is blind, so is luck. Because it’s Hyunjin who just entered the restaurant, and it’s Hyunjin looking directly at you, eyebrows knit in a frown and a sour expression distorting his lips. You’re frozen in your seat, watching him shaking his head, speaking with a waiter, collecting his dinner and leaving. You can't have him leave like this. Something in your gut is telling you it’s now or never, if you let him go now, you might as well let him go forever. And you’re not ready for that.

In a blur of apologies and confused sentences you leave your share of money on the tablecloth and, grabbing your purse, you flee the restaurant. It doesn’t matter that you left your jacket on the back of your chair, it doesn’t matter that’s it’s pouring outside, it matters only your voice calling his name.

He doesn’t turn, doesn’t stop, keeps on waking under the rain, head down and fast steps. You start doing that awkward running walk, reaching to grab his wrist. This effectively makes him stop, but he looks displeased.

“Why did you leave without saying goodbye?”

“You’re on a date.” He frees himself from your grasp, almost like your touch burns him.

“So?”

“So you’re having dinner with another man. Why would I interrupt?”

“Because you always come say ‘hi’ when you meet me by chance.”

“Not when you’re on a date!” He snips. You’re still both under the rain. For a moment you wonder why he hasn’t insisted on moving under a covering. You haven’t because the cold rain is soothing your nerves, soothing the pain you feel anytime you’re too close to him. Did Icarus feel like this when he was soaring too close to the sun? Did he wish for the rain when the scorching wax burned his skin? Did he love the freedom so much he reveled in the pain, hating it at the same time?

“I never go on dates!”

“Clearly, you do.”

You sigh, “this was my first date in 4 years, Hyune.”

“And I didn’t know you had a date, wanna guess why? Because you ignored me for days!” He uses his free hand to push back the strands of hair that fell on his face, dripping wet.

“I thought you were busy. Last time we talked you were really focused on getting ready to meet your girlfriend. Why would I interrupt that?” He’s baffled, and rightly so. In the past, you had no qualms about texting him at all hours.

“Well, I was focused”, you can hear his mocking tone. When did this transform into a fight? “because I was meeting her to put an end to our relationship, because I realized I’ll never be in love with her because I am crazy in love with you. And I tried to call you because I needed to tell you so, I needed to know I did the right thing. I thought this wasn’t one sided. And yet you ignored me and- fuck” he laughs disheartened. “-and went on a date with another man.”

“I- you, what?” You blink rapidly, drops of rain blurring your sight. “You broke up with her? For…” you can’t say it. You can’t bring yourself to say ‘for me’, because it’d make it real. And it could be the best thing or the worst thing. Or both, at the same time. Did Icarus ever think he’d succeed? Did he ever consider he could fly, escape and be free; or did he -like you- only ever imagined failure in front of him? Was he like you, swimming stroke after stroke towards something, wishing for the best but never thinking it could come true? There’s a certain push that animates the despairings, there’s no fight or flight response. There’s only the pilgrimage towards the unreachable goal.

“For you.”

A beat passes. Another. Another one.

“Since when?”

“Since you held my hand after that nightmare. Since I realized I'm not scared when I’m with you.”

There’s something they don’t tell you about desperation, about wanting something so bad that you can feel it missing from your own body. For weeks, for months, you get used to the longing, the yearning. When you can finally wrap your hands around his shoulder, when you can press your lips against his and hear him utter a soft groan, all that you used to feel transforms into electricity, it runs through your whole body and sets you aflame from the inside. This kind of burning, though? It’s a welcomed feeling.

[nightghoul381]

He Still Doesn't Know I've Become an Animal ~ Ellis Twilight: Chapter 1

This a fan translation so it is definitely not 100% accurate. I do not own anything related to Ikemen Villains. Support Cybird by buying their amazing stories!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Bitter End | Premium End | Epilogue

That day was a normal morning.

…Or it was supposed to be.

What I saw when I woke up was…

I was completely covered in black, glossy fur, with quite a long tail.

I had triangular ears on my head and whiskers on my face.

(This can’t be… why did this happen?)

No matter how many times I looked in the mirror, I could still see a small black cat in the same pose I was in.

(Ah, A black cat… why a black cat…)

I panicked and my thoughts spiraled out of control.

(Oh, speaking of black cats, yesterday--)

--Flashback—

--Yesterday I went out to town with Ellis.

Ellis: “Sorry, I had to keep you waiting for today’s date because I had some urgent work to do this morning.”

Kate: “Well, it was Jude’s call. Also, I like how hard you work at your job, Ellis.”

Ellis: “…Thank you. I love you too, Kate.”

Kate: “…Hehe and the new bakery you told me about as an apology was also really nice.”

The basket that Ellis was holding was filled with all kinds of bread, and the smell was delicious.

Ellis: “I ended up buying every kind.”

Kate: “All the breads look delicious. Which one would you like, Ellis?”

Ellis: “Let’s split everything in half. Then you can try all of them.” 9016

Kate: “Got it, hehe.”

At that moment, a black shadow quickly crossed in front of my eyes.

Kate: “!”

Ellis: “…It’s a black cat!”

A black cat stopped on the roadside, looked back once, and then quickly ran off.

Kate: “She’s cute… What a beautiful girl.”

I couldn’t take my eyes off her until I could no longer see her small form as she lightly carried herself away.

Ellis: “…Are you curious?”

Ellis looked into my face.

Kate: “Yeah, I felt like petting it. I guess it’s a stray cat… I hope it’s not hungry.”

Ellis: “You’re so kind, Kate. But for now, I’d like you to just think about me.”

(!)

His big hand wrapped around mine and our fingers intertwined, becoming a lover’s bond.

Kate: “Yeah… haha, sorry. I got distracted.”

When I squeezed our joined hands, Ellis smiled softly and gave me a firm squeeze in return.

Ellis: “I’m looking forward to the bread. It might taste even better with lots of jam.”

Ellis: “Let’s go home early.”

--End Flashback—

(…all of the bread I ate with Ellis was delicious.)

Immersed in the fun memories of yesterday, I was startled once again when I saw a black cat in the mirror in front of me.

(The black cat in front of me is me, right… what should I do?)

I was so frazzled by the turn of events that I couldn’t stand still.

(Help me…!)

I jumped on the doorknob and managed to run out of the room.

I headed straight for my beloved’s room.

Although, when I arrived in front of Ellis’ room I froze—

(…But Ellis, I wonder if you’ll notice that it’s me.)

Suddenly feeling anxious, I paced back and forth in front of the door.

(I can’t even knock… I should try calling out.)

Kate: “Meow (Ellis, are you awake?)”

(I-I can’t even talk… What should I do?)

As I was pacing around again, the door suddenly opened in front of me.

Ellis: “Woah…!”

(!)

Ellis’ foot hit me, the black cat.

Ellis: “I’m sorry! Are you okay?!”

Kate: “Mrrow Meow (No, it’s okay! It’s my fault for wandering around in front of the door.)”

I felt a little bit of pain, but I didn’t want to concern Ellis, who was looking at me worriedly, so I responded with a chirp.

Ellis: “It was you who made that cry earlier. I thought Kate was playing a prank on me, calling to me like that.”

Kate: “Meow! Meow meow… (It’s me! The black cat is me…)”

Every time I screamed loudly, pain shot through me, and I reflexively cringed.

Ellis: “You look like you’re hurting somewhere… I’m really sorry.”

Ellis: “I know, let’s have Roger check it out.”

Kate: “Mew…! (It’s okay…Ah!)”

Before I could even try to stand up, Ellis’ large hands gently scooped me up.

Ellis, holding me close to his chest as if wrapping himself around me, whispered to the black cat reassuringly.

Ellis: “…Don’t worry, Roger is a nice person.”

(Ellis… you’re so kind…but…it’s bad for my heart.)

It was a little awkward, but I couldn’t help but feel excited seeing Ellis’ face, gently holding the black cat and looking down at me.

While I was trying to calm down, Ellis walked to the basement without hesitation.

Ellis: “Thank you, Roger.”

Roger: “Well, I was just thinking that I wanted to deepen my understanding of living things other than humans and dogs.”

Kate: “Meow (Thank you, Roger.)”

Roger carefully examined my hind leg, diagnosing it as a minor bruise but wrapping a bandage around it, just in case.

Roger: “There doesn’t seem to be any internal damage. If you stay calm, the swelling will go down and you’ll be healed in no time.”

Ellis: “… I mean… I’m glad… but, I’m sorry.”

Seeing Ellis’ complex smile, as if both relieved and apologetic, my heart tightened.

Roger: “…yeah?”

Suddenly, Roger pricked his ears as if searching for something.

Roger: “…”

I was nervous because I was closer than usual to Roger, who was intently looking at the black cat.

(Can you hear my heartbeat?)

(If it’s different from a normal cat… maybe you’ll notice it’s me.)

(But it’s impossible for a human to turn into a cat… so I don’t’ think Roger would even consider it.)

Ellis: “What’s wrong, Roger?”

Roger: “…No, it’s nothing.”

Roger: “If you don’t mind, I’ll take care of this cat.”

Ellis: “Thank you, but I want to take care of her. It’s my fault she got hurt.”

Ellis: “…And I’d like Kate to meet her. When she saw a black cat yesterday, she said she wanted to pet it.”

(! He remembered that.)

I was even more excited to see Ellis thinking of me like this even when I wasn’t around.

Roger: “Even if you take care of her, don’t you have to go to work?”

Ellis: “It’s okay, she’s still a kitten, so if we do this, we can stay together.”

I was gently picked up and tucked into the chest of Ellis’ jacket.

Kate: “Mrrow? (What?)”

As a black cat with only my face sticking out from Ellis’ chest, it felt like I was a stuffed animal.

Ellis: “Now you don’t have to accidentally bump into something and get hurt.”

Roger: “Damn, it’ll be interesting to see what kind of face Jude makes.”

Kate: “…”

(Even Roger is amused… Agh, Ellis is so warm… It’s even warmer when I think about it.)

I was pressed tightly against his firm chest, and the pounding, powerful sound of his heart reverberated through my whole body, making me feel dizzy.

Even the scent of his soap was too strong for my small self, I couldn’t move and my heart was racing.

Roger: “…”

Ellis: “I’m going to go invite Kate to breakfast.”

Roger: “Oh, tell the little lady I say hello.”

Roger’s eyes were fixed on me, the black cat, with a knowing smile on his face that made me feel uneasy.

Roger: “When the cat calms down again, let me examine it.”

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Bitter End | Premium End | Epilogue

[mihii-i]

hello hi sorry i know your inbox is probably super full rn 😭 but can i request a one-shot of arlecchino comforting female reader while they have a panic attack, preferably without specifying the reason for it if that’s okay <3

burning flame.

Pairings: arlecchino x fem!reader

CW: sfw, female reader, panic attacks, big anxiety wow, it’s a rlly short oneshot sorry, this is off my own experience of what ik of a panic attack so I apologize if what you were hoping for is a little different i hope i covered atleast the fundamentals of it, soft arle yay, symbolism woah, wlw, fluff, not proofread.

A/N: More arlefreaky content yayayayaya this actually turned out really good I’m proud 🕯️

“There you go, breathe.”

Arlecchino’s calloused hand pressed flat against your chest as she whispered to you in hushed tone, heart thudding against your chest so quickly and violently that she could feel it against her hand. Still, she didn’t budge, pushing her hand further up as it grazed the cloth of your shirt along your skin. Your mind still spun as a storm continued to brew up within you, vision all blurry and your surroundings unclear. You begin to question where you were, only able to hear the fervent beats of your pulsing heart and shaky breaths emanating from you.

However, Arlecchino’s hand didn’t budge from your chest, keeping firm despite your intemperate heartbeat pounding so viciously, as if it was actively clashing against her palm. Shallow breaths fanned over her blackened hand, your uncontrolled hiccups and wide eyes making you jolt with each rough jerk of your body. You nearly tumbled forward as it grew hard to maintain any semblance of tranquility, both within your messy thoughts and your surroundings.

The harbinger’s broad arms circling your waist and hemming you into her grasp slowly began to subside the intense whirlwind of dread swallowing your subconscious whole, making your breaths become more drawn in and elaborate. Yet that awful unrest and distress resumed to gnaw at you continuously. Arlecchino didn’t take long to notice this, proceeding to trace your tensed up muscles from the collarbone down, outlining your silhouette slowly.

“Deep breaths, (Name).”

Flickers of light above outstretched your own shadow before you, causing you to nearly stray away from Arlecchino’s easing words, yet you did as she instructed, drawing in a deep intake of air through your nostrils and pushing it out of your lips. “There you go. Keep doing that. And focus on my hands.” She asserted, giving a gentle nudge to your shoulders and coaxing you to relax them.

You complied, lowering your hunched shoulders and fixing your mind to feel her nails gliding along your skin from the way she held you, back flush against her chest.

Repeating each deep breath, you gradually found yourself slowly fluttering your eyes open, submerged in a mellow sense of comfort flooding your senses. Your squinted gaze weakly shifted over to the flickering candle rested atop the bedside table, its flame jittering in the blink of an eye repeatedly. You leaned further into Arlecchino’s touch, seeking her warmth as her hand shifted to rest atop your head.

You were strangely similar to this alluring candle, your brightness always flickered with each gust of wind threatening to erase your flame of a soul in a seemingly endless battle. However, Arlecchino stood with you through thick and thin, at your worst and at your best. No matter how you saw it, Arlecchino was your burning flame, who kindled the wick of your candle. She was the lighter to your flame.

“Feeling any better?” Arlecchino mused, glancing down at your slumped body as she continued to hold you. You only gave a quiet and exhausted nod in response, signaling that you wanted to rest with her for a bit.

No matter what, she‘ll always be there for you.

A/N: I LOVE HOW THIS ONE TURNED OUT PERSONALLY WAWAWAW also I hope that you’re doing well anon and that you’ll get through whatever you’re going through <33

[guesswhoisofftheirmedsagain]

@lochnessgoddess asked me to share the rest of what I had written for my TimKon rock star AU, it’s not completed (we are going to be finding out the plot together) and kinda strays away from the rock star part a bit, which is why this wasn’t in the original post. This does take pick up immediately from where the last post left off. It’s not much, but please enjoy <3

Tim agreed, and gave Kon his phone number. (Kon wasn’t allowed to give out his phone number anymore, not after the fourth time of having to change it.)

The next day they end up agreeing to meet up at a coffee shop or something idk date places. The date goes great, they are laughing and getting along so well that Tim almost forgot why he agreed. He was able to get a few samples from Kon, it was more than enough to get a full genetic analysis on him, he didn’t have to meet up with Kon anymore, but Tim found himself agreeing to a second date. He told himself it was so he had an easy way to interrogate Kon under the lie of “just trying to get to know him better” but then he found himself asking unrelated questions that didn’t really matter to the investigation he was convincing himself he was on. Now Kon was in much tamer clothes (although still very punk), blending in seamlessly with the crowded streets of the Big Apple. He was so kind, sweet, charming and all around charismatic. He was a big flirt, but also so respectful at the same, he looked nervous, covering it with what could be over confidence. Tim found himself wishing for more. But he was a hero, a vigilante, and Kon, while very powerful, was still just a civilian. Tim would have to be honest with him eventually, about everything, and that would put him in more danger than he was already in just from being famous alone. He never should have agreed to a third date, then a fourth, then somehow he suddenly found himself planing the fifth, texting back and fort with Kon daily. He found his heart skipping a beat whenever he got a notification, unable to help the smile on his face when he saw it was from Kon. His siblings definitely picked up on it, he thought he was being sneaky but after disappearing multiple times the past two months it was all but subtle in a family full of detectives. Tim fears that Bruce will try to give him the talk, again, and Tim never wants to go through the presentation again, never. He ignores his siblings taunts and curiosity.

Because he could fly, and fast, Kon was able to get from his concert locations to the outskirts of Gotham in no time to pick up Tim for their dates. Tim had fully planned their last date, so Kon had taken it upon himself to plan their sixth date. They had mostly stayed near Gotham, venturing out no farther than New York. They weren’t officially dating, not yet. Kon didn’t really know the appropriate amount of dates someone should go on before officially dating. Kon has watched romance movies, and that’s about all of his experience. One place that is a repeating pattern is in a country called France. A city named Paris, known as the City of love. Is that to ambitious? Nah.

Tim was successful able to sneak away, barely, said he was going to hang out with his friend, again. Alfred gave him a suspicious look in the way only he could, but didn’t mention it as Tim rushed out the house and to his car in the driveway. (He had to remove at least 5 different trackers from his clothes. He kept his phone on though, if he didn’t Bruce would have a heart attack.) He wished he had turned his phone off, because when Kon picked him up to fly him to the surprise date location, he did not expect to open his eyes and be in France.

Part 1 | Next

[randobsdanalyst]

Clothes in BSD

Part 1: Loyalty, Morality, and Characterization Through Coats and Colors

Thread on Twitter: https://x.com/RandoBSDAnalyst/status/1806408372897353988

Clothes are an integral part of the symbolism in Bungou Stray Dogs, as Harukawa and Asagiri spent a lot of time working together to come up with the final designs for the characters. The idea of coats and borrowed clothing especially appears over and over again in the series, building upon each other and adding to the themes in ways that demonstrate what matters to the characters.

We can begin with coats. The fandom-famous coat theory is related to loyalty and motivation, but I believe there’s so much to be said about vulnerability and morality as well when it comes to the coats. There’s notable variation regarding color and the way coats are worn and treated throughout the series, and there’s much you can understand regarding the characters based on the coat and clothes they wear and how. 

We can start off by using Dazai. In Fifteen, he does not actually wear a coat, opting to instead wear just the tie, white dress shirt, and black dress pants. He had no attachment to the world or any organization at that point in time, and so there was no need for the Demon Prodigy mask and the many other masks he would very quickly develop over time. From a more morality-based viewpoint, their mind had not been completely darkened at that point, either, despite them very obviously displaying signs of how twisted their mind was and how much he was quickly learning from Mori over time (hence the black tie and black pants). However, right after the events of Fifteen, he did start wearing a coat after being gifted one from Mori. It was black, like the tie and pants, and it hid parts of the white dress shirt he still wore underneath. This is connected to how his mind had become far more dark by that point, and how he had officially become part of the underground by joining the Mafia. He covered up the remaining bits of genuineness and good still left in him, and officially became the Demon Prodigy Mori had been trying to shape him into. Then, by the time we see Dazai in Osamu Dazai and the Dark Era, he had also decided to wear a black suit jacket underneath the coat. Just as it obscured more of the white dress shirt underneath, it further obscured Dazai’s self and hid anything left that was remotely genuine and innocent out of a (sub)conscious desire to not be vulnerable and get hurt. Those parts of him still existed, but they were hard to find, especially as nobody but Chuuya and Oda tried to truly understand him and his struggles. What the others could see was that Dazai was fully enveloped in his Demon Prodigy mask by then, and he was very eerily reminiscent of Mori in the darkness and cold logic he carried with him wherever he went.

However, there are hints as to how he truly felt about Mori and the Mafia, even back then, as coats in BSD do say so much about loyalty. It is important to note that even though he wore the suit jacket properly during the Dark Era, perhaps indicating his commitment to the masks and in pushing away the good he can do due to his feelings regarding himself, he still did not ever wear Mori’s coat properly. This indicated his wavering loyalty, hinting that he in no way was particularly loyal to the Port Mafia and Mori  from the very beginning. His reason for officially joining and adopting the thin facade of loyalty at the age of fifteen was only to continue observing humanity after Chuuya inadvertently convinced him to see life in another light. He wanted to get a glimpse of life and what it means to be human amid all the death and destruction, not to further the interest of the Mafia and Mori beyond what would allow him to continue his exploration. And we see that as soon as they see Oda’s body on the floor and rushes to him, the coat falls off. He then claimed to have burnt the coat afterward, removing any attachment to the darkness and Mori, despite mentally still being very much affected by them.

Once he left, he started wearing the coat that is now so familiar. It is tan, similar to the coat Oda used to wear, and a physical reminder for himself of what he is doing all this for. He wants so badly to belong in the light and fulfill the promise he had made to one of the only people who understood him, and so he must have felt the coat was a perfect replacement for the one he once wore. And, unlike the black coat, Dazai wears this coat properly, as he is genuinely loyal to Oda and Oda’s wishes for him. Beyond the coat, Dazai also decided to change other parts of his outfit. He does wear a dark vest underneath the coat that is quite similar to the suit jacket he used to wear, but he chose to replace the rest of his clothes with ones that are lighter, more befitting of someone in the light (though the dark vest serves as a reminder of his moral grayness). If they were going to create a whole new persona, especially one that tries so hard to come off as friendly and bubbly, then they would need clothes to match. His black pants were replaced with khaki ones, and his black tie was replaced with a bolo tie. All in all, while there are still many layers to what Dazai wears (Dazai will perhaps never be perfectly at home around others no matter the organization, as humanity is still something he does not consider himself a part of), the overall vibe is less formal and dark. 

Let’s move on to Chuuya, whose design had a lot of thought and time put into it by both Asagiri and Harukawa. Chuuya wears many layers as well no matter what age you consider, which hide the vulnerable parts of him in a way that is similar to Dazai. Even in the Sheep and during the Dragon’s Head Conflict, where he wore what could be considered streetwear, he still wore several layers to hide himself. He may end up wearing his heart on a sleeve for those who look and may bleed for those he cares about, but emotional vulnerability and trust is still difficult for him. But what’s more interesting, once again, is how his clothes also display his loyalty. Chuuya is an extremely loyal individual, and his connections to the different organizations he works/worked for are so important to understanding him and his view of his humanity. Chuuya has always been trapped and bound to whatever organization he works for by his loyalty, and forced by the nature of his ability to always protect those under him. He thus wears a literal choker around his neck after joining the Port Mafia, a physical representation of the “dog-like” loyalty that binds him to the Sheep and then the Port Mafia. It was not part of his outfit during his time in the Sheep, but that is most likely because he did not see his loyalty and his ability as truly binding. He cared for the Sheep and thought that they cared for him in return and only expected so much from him because he’s him. But once he met Dazai and Mori and experienced first hand what the Sheep truly thought of him, he began to feel tied down by his own loyalty and forgiving nature.

Chuuya also used to wear his jacket properly in the Sheep, and before Dazai left the Mafia, he wore any jacket or coat that was part of his outfit properly as well. The Sheep, and then the Mafia, were his family for better or for worse, and he feels such a need to protect those under him and to become more of the leader he unfairly thought he should have been for the Sheep. He was determined in these goals and to protecting Yokohama through missions in the Port Mafia, and so his outer layers are worn the way they were meant to be. However, you may notice that currently, Chuuya does not wear his coat properly despite his loyalty towards the Port Mafia. It’s the one layer of his clothing not fully worn. It also comes off often, and there is one common denominator to every time Chuuya does take off the coat: either he’s relaxing after a long day, or he’s with Dazai (who is the only one he takes his coat off around when he’s meant to be working for the Mafia). Whether hes’s fighting against, with, or for Dazai, his coat is always the first item to go flying (literally). Think of the dungeon scene, the fight against Lovecraft where the very first attack results in Chuuya’s coat falling off, and the rescue in Dead Apple where Chuuya’s coat falls off when he jumps off of a plane. This reveals something interesting: while Chuuya is incredibly loyal to the Port Mafia, he would always be willing to cast that loyalty aside for Dazai. Even if Dazai is a known traitor, Chuuya is willing to cast that aside for the sake of Soukoku and Yokohama. There was no need to do this before Dazai left the Mafia, and so he never wore his jackets or coats improperly before then. The shedding of the coat is also a physical representation of the way they trust each other and are willing to cast aside some of their masks and their game of hatred to reveal some of the vulnerability underneath — something that goes unsaid between the two but is so important to their bond. Without that deeply rooted trust, Soukoku would not function the way it does. Not only that, but the coat he sheds is also black, and removing it reveals the lighter layers underneath, as if Chuuya is shedding his darkness each time in order to be genuine. It is only Dazai that gets to see the more human side of Chuuya while Chuuya is working, only Dazai that gets to see the truth behind the darkness that shrouds both of them.

One could also say that the coat very loosely represents Chuuya’s masked feelings towards Dazai, though this interpretation does not really get the whole picture, considering how coats are a consistent symbol across characters and how Chuuya does take off the coat when he’s relaxing (so the coat representing his loyalty and feelings of responsibility to the Mafia, and the layers representing the layers shielding his vulnerability, makes more sense). But let’s indulge the idea for a moment. Chuuya acts like he hates Dazai, but that mask leaves very quickly when needed (just like the coat), as those feelings of hatred have no depth or genuineness. This idea still can be tied back to loyalty, however. Once Dazai left, there was a new layer that had to be added to the game the two like to play: they are now in different organizations with differing principles since Dazai left. It makes sense for Chuuya, as an executive, to detest somebody who had betrayed the organization. The Port Mafia is not kind to traitors, after all, and the organization is not meant to be easy to leave. However, Chuuya’s true feelings regarding Dazai’s betrayal of the Mafia are obviously far more complex. He doesn’t truly feel betrayed by Dazai’s departure like a high-ranking member of the Mafia is meant to, no matter how he acts outwardly. Instead, as someone who “had” considered himself to be Dazai’s partner, he knew and still knows Dazai too well to be genuinely mad at him for leaving such a place. If anything, he sorely missed having him with him. He thus never wears his coat properly, ready to take it off whenever the mask of hatred he is meant to keep on after Dazai betrayed the Mafia (connected to his loyalty to the Mafia) goes at odds against his heart and loyalty to his partner. And in return, Dazai doesn’t hesitate to still make him an integral part of his plans.

Now let’s talk about their outfits in the BEAST universe, because something you can notice immediately that differs from the main universe is that Dazai and Chuuya do wear their coat, in Dazai’s case, and suit jacket, in Chuuya’s case, properly. So what does this say about BEAST Dazai and Chuuya? In the case of Dazai, it being worn properly showed his dedication to the plan he had come up with and took over the Mafia to ensure the success of. He took the job of being the boss seriously, and so he wore Mori’s coat the way it was meant to be worn. The dark coat also added another intentional and well-maintained layer of darkness that shrouded the white dress shirt underneath everything Dazai was wearing. It’s a lot harder to take off a well-worn coat than a coat that simply hands from the shoulders, much like how his Demon Prodigy mask and darkness are a lot harder to see through in BEAST. He intentionally isolated himself due to his goal, allowing only Chuuya and Gin by his side, and blinded himself to the pain and darkness that surrounded him so completely as a result. Chuuya, too, is more dedicated to his role and to the goals of the Port Mafia, as all he had in BEAST was Dazai due to being even more isolated from others than regular Chuuya. And even if Chuuya did have others close to him, since Dazai remained in the Mafia, Chuuya had no reason to switch from wearing his coat or jacket properly to wearing them over his shoulder like he did in the regular universe. There was no conflict between his loyalty to Dazai and his loyalty to the Mafia, and so his feelings towards Dazai only intensified the dedication he had to the organization. In addition, notice that BEAST Chuuya wears a red dress shirt instead of a white one like he does in the regular universe, which could represent how much lonelier and thus darker BEAST Chuuya was.

Fyodor is another character whose coat and colors tell us a lot about him. As confirmed by Asagiri, his outfit and general appearance were based on The Brothers Karamazov by irl Fyodor Dostoyevsky. More specifically, his design was influenced by a scene in the book where Ivan, the middle of the three brothers, has a conversation with the devil. Looking at the scene, it is clear where Fyodor’s ushanka and hair came from (thanks, @/wolfkil1r on twt for this revelation):

I’ll do a separate analysis on the literary references that went into Fyodor’s character, but it is important that his design is meant to evoke the character of the devil from the novel. Clothes give you an idea of a character’s motivation, after all. In addition, the black in his outfit and hair contrasts with the white found in the Decay of the Angel. Black shrouds the white, like how evil corrupts the pure and how Fyodor manipulates the group behind the scene. The black covering the white also evokes the idea of the fallen angel. The character of the devil in The Brothers Karamazov was once an angel who had fallen from grace and was forced to shoulder the burden of humanity’s sins. Fyodor, similarly, lost his humanity (and the goodness within) due to the nature of his immortality and his desire to achieve his goals using whatever means are most effective. He wishes to get rid of the sinfulness of humans, but has long since sacrificed any goodness he may have had for the sake of efficiency. Besides black and white, though, Fyodor is also very closely associated with the color purple, a color that is deeply connected with the idea of nobility and power. In Christianity, the color is also used to represent Christ’s suffering and death, since a purple robe had been placed on him as a sign of mockery before his crucifixion. As Fyodor is a character so closely tied into religion, Christ, the devil, and the concepts of death and rebirth, this truly is the perfect color for him.

For both Fyodor and Dazai, however, there’s also another set of rather symbolic outfits to look at: the white ones they wore in Dead Apple after being made to do so by Shibusawa. The white once again evokes the idea of purity,  and of angels. White is also often used to symbolize death, due to the color’s spiritual importance as a result of its connection to purity. The outfits (and a lot of the characters associated with Fyodor, who are known for having long white hair and wearing white) bring these two concepts together beautifully. Wearing these gorgeous pieces of clothing while in the safety of Mukurotoride, Dazai, Fyodor, and Shibusawa observed the ruin that the fog brought to Yokohama from above, like angels observing humanity from heaven. Due to the nature of their intelligence and thought processes, all three of them are known for feeling isolated from humanity, their minds unable to be comprehended by the masses. Angels are indeed the perfect representation of this isolation, evoking the idea of being distant from humanity. This also ties in quite neatly to the symbolism of angels and religion in the series, as just like in the play in The Untold Origins of the Detective Agency, the “angels'' were portrayed as people who watched destruction unfold below them after putting different things into motion. They may appear pure as snow, but their morals and ideas can be put into question. Or you could think of it as angels being too divine and disconnected from humans to lose themselves in morality and experience something so human as suffering, which would make sense in the discussion regarding humanity. 

However, their outfits were not pure white, so the outfits could also add to the fallen angel symbolism prevalent in the series (which is of course very closely related to the idea of angels in the series, as the “angels” in BSD aren’t quite pure). The inner lining of the coats were black, as well as their shoes, Fyodor’s gloves, and the dress shirt Dazai wore underneath. And speaking of Fyodor’s gloves, that was actually the only addition to Fyodor’s outfit other than the coat. He was still wearing the same outfit he always wears underneath. All this is a reminder, representing how they are still them. Even though their intelligence allows them to rise above the rest, there is still darkness (morally and psychologically) that lies inside the minds of the three individuals. The black against the flowy white does elicit the image of a fallen angel, after all. The three may all be beautiful and beyond human in terms of their brains, but darkness has long since become a part of them, the “purity” of their appearance corrupted by their minds and perspectives of humanity. This really does go along well with a lot of other symbolism in the series, and it ties back well with the fact that Fyodor is the only dark-haired member of the Decay of Angels. 

With these interpretations in mind, it is interesting that Dazai was the only one who did not wear his coat properly. He instead wore it over the shoulder, much like he had back in the Port Mafia. This could be a way of symbolically representing how his mind is still forever affected by his time in the Mafia, and how he liked to lean more into his Demon Prodigy mask especially when with Fyodor. Dazai has a habit of subconsciously soaking up the darkness around him and slipping into whatever role is expected of him, tailoring his masks and perspectives based on the person he is talking to in order to appear as if he belongs and can deeply relate to the other. And indeed, for a long while, Fyodor thought Dazai’s thought processes and ways of seeing people are the same as his, which is why he was so caught off guard by Dazai’s ability to adapt, trust, and use the unpredictability of humans to his advantage. On this note, the way Dazai wore the coat could also be thought of as showing Dazai’s true feelings regarding humanity. Even though he was playing the role of the angel observing from the distance, it has become clear based on his thought processes in the ADA (and even back in the PM) that he does not think of this distance as a benefit. He admires humanity, and wishes to observe it from close up. After all, Chuuya had shown him so much about what it meant to fight and struggle as a human being, and Oda had provided him a compass for which to guide himself morally. He could never find humanity boring and predictable, a perspective that makes him so different from Fyodor, Shibusawa, and the weapon Mori desired to shape him into. 

Moving on from Fyodor and Dazai (though I will be coming back to them again in a bit), Nikolai also has a pretty interesting design. His long, flowy overcoat is a nod to The Overcoat. The story is about a poor department store worker who lived the epitome of a monotonous and dreary life, and struggles to replace a coat that had been well worn. He eventually saved up for a new coat, and when he finally got it, it allowed him to finally enter the world of humans and desire. He was free from the monotony of his banal existence. But then one day, he was attacked and the coat was taken from him, bringing him back to his dreary reality. It was inevitable that the world of humanity and emotions wouldn’t last, and the man died as pitifully as he lived. I feel like it was irl Gogol’s own existence and experience with religion that inspired Nikolai’s design and characterization far more than a single specific piece of his work, but I feel like the story does play well into the futility of Nikolai’s desire to be free from the structure of society and his own existence. 

As for Nikolai’s specific coat, it is white, but it also has a black lining on the inside. There are also black details on the suit and pants as well, making the outfit appear like a mix of the ones worn by clowns and ringmasters. The outfit is perfectly representative of Nikolai’s character, blending the comical and whimsical side of him with his sharp intellect and (rather sadistic) interest in creating games. The white and black also show his conflicting relationship with morality and honesty. Instead of having the colors in layers like the other characters, the white and black are all over the place, contrasting to form a twisted, clownish image that makes it difficult to discern what is true from what is not. He wishes to push morality and to shed the boundaries set by human nature and morality, and so he does not get set layers of white or black. However, after Fyodor’s “death,” when Nikolai was talking about his conflicted feelings and how much being understood by Fyodor meant to him, you can see that the black parts of his outfit are hidden. He’s being genuine for once, revealing his true feelings and pushing aside the goal he thought he wanted to achieve: of being free from everything. Instead, what he had truly wanted was to be understood.

Now, I promised to circle back to Fyodor and Dazai, and that is because there’s still one final detail for this section that’s very important and connects different pieces of clothing in BSD (which is why I saved it for the end). Going back to Fyodor’s outfit in Dead Apple, there was a unique design on the bottom that may be familiar to those who draw Sigma’s coat. Here it is again:

Shubisawa and Dazai, too, had the symbol as a part of their outfits, and it was also on the strange outfit Akutagawa was wearing at the very end of the last episode of season 5:

And here is the same thing on Sigma’s coat. The shape of the cutout forms the exact same symbol.

Clearly the symbol is important and might be leading up to something if Akutagawa’s new outfit contains the same symbol, But what does it mean? Well, the shape is actually known as the othala rune. Runes were originally created and used by Germanic groups before they adopted the Latin alphabet, but variants were devised by Scandinavian as well as  Anglo-Saxon groups. Knowing that Sigma’s design seems to have some Celtic and Nordic inspirations, it’s to be expected that a symbolic rune would be utilized in his design. The othala rune, generally (as there is obviously going to be variation and nuance in the way the rune is thought of), represents the idea of home, legacy, and heritage. 

This is so perfect for Sigma’s character, whose whole story revolves around how he does not have a past and a home. To him, these two things are the very basis of what makes a human human, and they therefore drive his decisions and struggles. And just like any other human, Sigma fights tooth and nail against the constant tirade of life, clinging on desperately to the hope of finding the meaning and purpose that he believes his life to lack due to his supposed lack of humanity. This drive is exactly what Fyodor wanted to exploit using the casino, and is what allowed Dazai to successfully convince Sigma to betray the Decay of Angels. They both knew what Sigma desired was a true home, and that he would do anything to protect anything even slightly close to one, even if he felt like he could never match up to the others. 

Shibusawa, too, had wanted to know his past, as he had forgotten it after his death. He had no home or past that he could remember, and so he sought his old memories, wishing to get them back so he could understand what happened to him and find his true self. And so he was easily manipulated by Fyodor for a second time, his ego and wish to get back his memories preventing him from seeing that Fyodor only wanted to use him. There is obviously more to what motivated Shibusawa (which was why he had desired Atsushi’s ability and to experience dying once more), but this is why the othala rune was part of Shibusawa’s outfit as well as the outfits he had forced Dazai and Fyodor into. In addition, it could also be said that it emphasized the way all three are isolated from humanity and do not belong anywhere: Shibusawa because of his death, Fyodor because of his ability, Dazai because of the dehumanization he went through, and all three because of their intelligence and incomprehensible minds. 

Who knows what it means for Akutagawa, though. Is it the symbol of an organization or one used a lot in an alternate universe? Is it the Akutagawa we know, and he was given the outfit by someone? At this point, there is so little we know about how Akutagawa ended up by Atsushi’s side again, as well as the fates of others who had turned into vampires. However, the story isn’t done yet, so we’ll see how the plot points get resolved.

[emotionallychargedtowel]

what's different about Hatano, part 4

Part 1 is here, part 2 is here, and part 3 is here. This is the last post in this series. It's possible I could have other thoughts to add on this subject down the line someday, but this covers all of the factors I set out to discuss when I started.

As in my other Hatano posts, all of these gifs were made by @my-rose-tinted-glasses. I'm so grateful that I'm able to benefit from her detailed and discerning work.

I wrote in part 1 about how Hatano cuts to the chase and immediately confesses to Mob, cutting out the usual preliminaries that Mob uses as warning signs that show he needs to escape a situation. In part 2, I talked about how Hatano seems to have some degree of awareness of Mob's fourth wall-breaking/almost nonstop voiceover-using tendencies, along with how Hatano relates to Mob's relationship to the audience. In part 3, I wrote about Hatano's perseverence, his strategy of making a move and then running away, and the way the age gap factor functions in his favor. I'm going to conclude by talking about a couple of factors that are a bit more profound.

Hatano sees Mob as a three-dimensional person and treats him as such and Mob does the same for him, at least some of the time (something only one other pursuer, Kikuchi, is able to say).

There’s one area in which Hatano differs from most of Mob’s suitors, but is comparable to Kikuchi. Both Kikuchi and Hatano are treated with real consideration by Mob at times, for reasons that have important implications.

Mob usually doesn’t give much thought to the feelings of the people who try to wrangle him into a BL situation. In a way, he flips character statuses on their heads. Mob aims to be a side character, but he treats the typical BL suitor as if they’re a kind of NPC. Their feelings don’t matter—he doesn’t even seem to see them as real. 

This makes sense given the way the other characters treat him. When they don’t see Mob for who he is, even a little bit, he doesn’t grant them that consideration either. In the opening theme of season 3, Mob says that one of his objections to Boys’ Love is how absurd it is. This might sound like he just doesn’t like it because it’s cringe as hell, and that’s a factor. But the absurdity of L with a B is bigger than that. (It has to do with something I alluded to in part 2.)

Let’s think about some of the things that form the basis of some of Mob’s close calls in season 3. One guy starts to fall in love with Mob because he slips on his stray tennis ball and almost falls. Another wonders aloud if they’re soul mates because they use the same shampoo. Mob has to be careful how he responds to a guy who tickles him in order to avoid having him fall for him (and the tickler ends up going for the guy he tickles right after Mob). These are absurd reasons to fall in love, and part of the problem with that is that falling on a tennis ball, using shampoo, and being tickled don’t say anything substantive about the person who does them.

Nobody wants to be loved for some random circumstantial reason that renders us interchangeable with pretty much anyone who might have stumbled into the same situation. We want to be loved because of who we are—because we have certain qualities a person values, because we did things that meant something to them, because they saw something special in us. We want to be loved for specific reasons that matter. The absurdity of those thin excuses for falling in love is related to how meaningless they are. Mob says he’s simply opposed to falling in L with a B, no matter what. But it could also be accurate to say that he avoids falling in L with a B who doesn’t value him for any specific reason or see him as an distinct person. 

Only two people give more thought to Mob and seem to see him as a fleshed-out human being: Kikuchi and Hatano. Both could stand to know him better, but by the standards of the world of BL, they're remarkable.

Kikuchi’s original reason for liking Mob, the kindness he showed him when he helped him use a copy machine at their university, is only a tiny bit more complex than the reasons other characters become interested in him. But over the course of the first two seasons, Kikuchi shows more depth of thought about Mob than anyone else has. In season 2, when Kikuchi watches Mob from afar, he notices things. He even says that part of the reason Mob inspired him to study to be a veterinarian is the concern Mob shows toward cats. It’s a really neat sort of turn in the story. Up to that point, the viewer, like Mob, sees cats as showing up in fateful moments to send Mob into story traps. But the only reason Mob falls when a cat walks in front of him is the fact that he cares enough to try not to hurt cats. Kikuchi notices this and actually cares about it. I’d argue that he reads too much into it, which is a bit reminiscent of Mob’s more absurd pursuers. But at least he notices real things that Mob does, which the others seldom do. (At the very least, Mob really does care a great deal about cats in the manga. That version of Mob not only has a family cat, who he dotes on, but he also looks at cat photos on his phone when he’s bored.) 

Hatano doesn’t make note of specific actions Mob takes in the present or the recent past very much, in the way Kikuchi does. But his feelings for Mob are still based on something he did: the time he helped him out when he was stranded with a broken bike as an elementary-schooler, back when Mob was in middle school. (Mob cuts Hatano’s story off before he says what Mob did to help, going into voiceover mode over Hatano’s dialogue, but it's clear that Mob at least helped Hatano fix his bicycle. It seems likely that he also provided some degree of comfort, since Hatano says he was in tears at the time and Mob compares the incident to the one he just witnessed with the sad middle-school boy and the refreshingly handsome grad student who reassures him.) 

There’s one thing in this vein that Hatano does that Kikuchi doesn’t, and that is that he tries to protect Mob. This comes up around the risks posed by an age gap relationship. When Hatano asks to temporarily rescind his confession after learning how strongly people would disapprove of their relationship, he isn’t worried about the social consequences for himself—all he cares about is how they might affect Mob. In fact, he works himself up into such a state worrying about him that he imagines him being sent to jail even though it’s perfectly legal for a guy in his early 20s to date and even have sex with a 17-year-old in Japan. So backing off—for a while, at least—from pursuing Mob is something he does purely out of solicitude for Mob’s safety and well-being.

Both Hatano and Kikuchi see Mob as a specific person, not just some guy who slipped on a tennis ball and so forth. And at least some of the time, he returns the favor. He remembers details about them. He tries to spare their feelings, at least up to a point. When he goes to a bar with Kikuchi in the last episode of season 3 and assures him there’s nothing going on between him and Hatano, it may be the most consideration he shows any of his suitors in the entirety of the series. But he acts similarly toward Hatano after Kikuchi first approaches them. When Hatano starts to take his leave, Mob protests that he doesn’t have to go, denies that he needs to have a talk with Kikuchi. You could argue that he’s just trying to avoid being alone with Kikuchi, but I don’t think that’s the case. He seems genuinely concerned, at least to some extent. In this regard, Kikuchi and Hatano have a related kind of status in Mob’s mind. 

There’s another context in which Mob interacts with Hatano, where he’s cordial, even chummy. It’s a context that’s unique to Mob’s relationship with Hatano: their time acting in a BL together. 

Acting in a BL together shifts the dynamic between Mob and Hatano, quieting Mob’s fourth-wall-addressing side and heightening emotions even when they aren’t in front of the camera. 

I talked in part 2 about Mob’s tendency to break the fourth wall/make constant voiceover commentary to the audience and the way that Hatano has a unique ability to sense that, or at least some part of it. When Mob and Hatano are cast opposite one another in a BL, Mob's voiceover habit simply goes away for a while. It’s not as if this happens because Mob doesn’t need to worry about flags coming up while he’s filming, because they definitely do. Maybe the show-within-a-show premise is too conceptually complex to accommodate it. Regardless, it is hard to imagine how they could have made it work here. 

The absence of Mob’s voiceover affects the tone of this part of the series quite a bit. I found myself wondering what he was thinking at times, in an uncomfortable way, because I was so used to having that spelled out constantly. But it also allows for some other possibilities that aren’t normally present in the show, which I’ll talk more about in a moment. 

The show-within-a-show thing has other effects as well. Obviously, it brings Mob into closer proximity to Hatano and causes them to spend a lot of time together. They act out romantic tropes together and Hatano has a few excuses to touch Mob. They also end up chatting in a friendly way between scenes. In those moments, Mob seems sincerely comfortable with Hatano, like they’ve built at least some degree of platonic intimacy. In these ways, it seems like the BL-filming plotline works in favor of Hatano’s relationship with Mob. 

But it also works against it. One of the reasons plots like this are appealing is that characters are put in the position of acting out a romance with someone they would like to be involved with in real life, someone they inevitably think is out of their reach in actuality. A kind of “so close yet so far” dynamic is inherent to the concept (even though in a standard romance it invariably turns out that the object of their affections is more within reach than the person realizes). 

Hatano experiences the “so close yet so far” thing in spades. At first he mostly just seems to be glad to have a reason to be near Mob. The melancholy feelings his character goes through might hit home more than he’d like, but at least he has plenty of personal experience to draw from for his performance. He does succeed in getting better acquainted with Mob, who never would have casually shared a drink with him before in the way he does after filming. But there’s one moment that occurs during filming that's undeniably excruciating.

You know those “angle kisses” that actors sometimes do in dramas, where a couple is shot with one actor seen from behind and the other’s face partially blocked by their costar’s, so that they appear to be kissing but may not be touching at all? Mob and Hatano do an angle kiss in their show and it’s downright heartbreaking. 

At the beginning of the scene, Hatano’s character finally tells Mob’s he has feelings for him. In the process, Hatano gets to look Mob right in the eye and say exactly how he really feels about him. Not that he’s struggled to do so as himself in the past—after all, this is the guy who just ran up to Mob and said “Suki desu” when he saw him for the first time in eight years—but it’s an opportunity regardless. Hatano’s character then gets up to leave as if he’s so certain his feelings aren’t returned that there's no point in waiting for a response, Mob’s character grabs his arm, stops him, and tells him he likes him back. This moment is already bound to be a horrible mixed bag for Hatano. The man he loves is looking into his eyes and saying he has feelings for him, but it’s all for the cameras. 

Then Mob tugs on Hatano’s arm and he stumbles closer. Mob moves nearer and holds Hatano by the shoulder as he comes in for the angle kiss and it’s devastating. It’s not just that they aren’t really kissing. It’s way worse than that. When shot from the side, it’s possible to tell just how far apart Mob and Hatano really are, to see how their faces are turned in entirely opposite directions. Hatano doesn’t show a ton of super obvious emotion here—after all, he’s being filmed and he’s supposed to be in character as someone who is having a real first kiss with the object of his affections—but his expression is unmistakeably strained. 

That’s the last shot of the BL, so production wraps. Hatano starts giving Mob lovey-dovey looks before they’re even done being presented with their end-of-the-shoot flowers, and Mob starts wincing and looking stressed out. The more serious, less self-consciously reflexive tone of the BL shoot still lingers for a while longer, intermittently. Mob’s voiceover comes back in fits and starts at first, then re-establishes itself near the end of the finale. 

There are a few ways to look at the effects of the BL-filming storyline. If you think about it from Hatano’s perspective, by the end of shooting he has grown a bit closer to Mob in some ways and has had a chance to do things with him on camera that Mob wouldn’t do with him in real life. But he’s also undergone some seriously painful instances where the closeness his character has with Mob’s is a sad reminder that Hatano hasn’t achieved, and may never achieve, the same degree of intimacy with Mob. Then, while he’s still processing that whole situation, his attempt to confess again is thwarted when some guy shows up out of nowhere who appears to have some kind of history with Mob (i.e. Kikuchi). When he ends up at such a point after all of his efforts, he might conclude that the whole thing was a net loss. 

But if you take a step back and look at the way Hatano functions in the story, there are some signs that it could work in his favor. Basically, during the show-within-a-show portion of the finale, Hatano is put more in the role of a typical BL protagonist than he ever was before. The fact that Mob’s voiceover commentary pauses gives the audience a break from being inside Mob’s head, set up to closely identify with him all the time. It allows our affiliations and sympathies to be more free-floating. Meanwhile, Hatano is in a good position to attract our attention and garner sympathy. His role in the BL parallels his own situation with Mob (there are still differences, but the overall theme of pining for a guy who looks exactly like Mob is pretty strong). As we watch the scenes he and Mob act in, we can’t help but feel for his character and then for Hatano himself as we inevitably recall those parallels. And of course, that angsty angle-kiss scene is the pièce de résistance.

Does it actually matter that Hatano is able to appear more like a relatable BL protagonist to the audience? It’s hard to say. Mob believes that main characters have certain attributes and that they make things happen in his world, including making the people they’re interested in more likely to return their feelings. It’s a little unclear whether it has this sort of effect when we, the audience of Mob’s show, see Hatano more like a protagonist of a BL. But it might. If so, you could argue that experiences like this increase the chances that Hatano will manage to rope Mob into a romance eventually. 

If Hatano really is different, does it matter? 

So, I've been talking this whole time about what makes Hatano different from other guys who have pursued Mob. There are a few important ways in which he and Kikuchi both stand out from the crowd. Most importantly, both continuously pursue Mob over time and both have had specific experiences with him and notice actual attributes he has instead of liking him for absurdly random reasons and forgetting about him after one attempt to attract his interest. Both Hatano and Kikuchi have an appropriately greater kind of status in Mob’s life as a result of these differences and Mob treats them accordingly. 

Hatano also has some distinctions Kikuchi doesn’t. He has a few strategic advantages. He’s bold, he makes moves and then runs away before Mob can respond, and he makes use of the advantages of their age gap. There are also some more important considerations. Hatano has loved Mob longer than anyone else, by a large margin. (It's not as if you can call "dibs" on a person, of course. But it does mean something.) He seems to be at least partially aware of the way Mob breaks the fourth wall and even pulls Mob into his own daydream somehow. We don’t know why these things happen, but one explanation is that he has a particular kind of connection with Mob. His protagonist-like qualities when he films the BL with Mob may also suggest that he has the kind of main character powers that could overcome Mob’s attempts at resistance. 

But does this mean that Mob, a character whose entire reason for existence is eluding L with a B, is actually likely to get together with him? Would that be a good thing? Both questions are debateable. Personally, the main thing I want is for Hatano to continue to give Mob a hard time. I want him to really put him through the paces for as long as Mob continues to resist him. And if Mob does ever get caught, then unless another character comes along who is at least as compelling as Hatano and has comparable claims on Mob's affections, I hope Hatano is the one who catches him. If the series ends at a point where the show's creators are able to intentionally write a series finale, I think it's possible that having Mob finally get caught by a worthy opponent could be a good ending. But I hope he continues his fight against the world of BL for at least a good while longer. At least...for three more years.

[eeboshmeebo]

💐Dandelion💐

Incorporating a childhood aspect with my favorite character.

@jyohan :3

@the-copycat-hero >:(

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Every time you saw a dandelion, you always told your parents to stop the car so you can go pick one and blow on it just for the sake of seeing the seeds scatter in the wind. Not to make a wish, but to see more of the bright yellow blossoms and their puffy seeds spread even more.

Safe to say, not many actual wishes were made unless they involved dandelions magically growing at your home or your parents buying some cotton candy in the fancy machine the ice cream parlor had.

The few wishes you actually made, though, always got fulfilled. Mostly because you said them out loud and your parents could always hear you, so you didn't think much of it.

One day, there was this one specific wish that stood out from all the others, one that you made on your thirteenth birthday.

"I wish to meet the prettiest boy in the whole world!" You cried out, before blowing and letting the dandelion seeds float into the air, carried away by the breeze.

It was just a spur of the moment thing. You didn't actually believe you'd meet him, since you were always told you had to keep your wishes quiet for them to come true, but it was nice to dream.

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And what a surprise it was, indeed, when you saw a boy with hair that reminded you of a dandelion about to bloom, eyes as blue as the morning sky, and a vitality in his voice that outmatched the plant that he reminded you of.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Is this what 1-A does in their break time? None of you even look like you're having a break, you're just sitting and talking!"

Maybe you were hallucinating, but there was this pinkish tint in the room the moment you saw him. Or there was sunlight shining on Mina again. Didn't matter.

He was, certainly, without a single doubt...

"...the prettiest boy in the whole world."

You smiled and leaned over your desk a bit more, resting your chin on your hands before he turned to face you, a sneer on his face as he immediately had something to say.

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"And you! You look extra stupid, anything to speak or is your head too empty to say a single thing?"

Monoma immediately had chosen the student that had a head in the clouds, despite the fact that those eyes were keenly focused on him and not having an unfocused gaze into nowhere. He surely won't regret thi-

"You're a wish come true... the prettiest boy in the world is real!"

"...ah!? What're you talking about?! I didn't come from a dumb wish!"

Why did you say that in front of everyone.

He bit his lower lip in an attempt to retain his composure, though he could physically feel the blush rising on his face.

"Wow, he even looks like a Rainier cherry when he blushes. I can just take a big ol' bi-"

"Harassment!"

"OW!"

Thankfully, the rectangular-looking student with glasses had slapped the back of your head before looking up back at him.

"I dearly apologize for our classmate's behavior. This has never happened before, and frankly, I expected better."

"Yeah, just... discipline your classmates better. Hmmph. Unruly..."

Before his face could turn even redder, he quickly fled out of the classroom while covering his face, running past Kendo who looked at him with an expression he'd rather not see at the moment.

He'd have to look up Rainier cherries later and send a thank-you gift to glasses guy in secret afterwards since nobody could know he thanked a 1-A student of all people.

"Can't believe that... that..! Ugh! Just go and... and eat dirt!"

He kicked a stray eraser on the way back to the 1-B classroom, grumbling to himself the entire time.

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"No. Way. Iida!" Mina hissed, pulling Iida by the jacket and closer to her desk, her eyes wide with shock and her teeth gritted together as she pulled him down by the collar.

Iida practically felt the urgency in her voice and toned down his voice, but also made sure to fix his glasses' position. "What's the problem, Mina? I've rarely heard you this panicked before."

She rolled her eyes before leaning in even closer to him, whispering into his ear.

"Our classmate's in love with the blondie that came earlier."

His reddening face immediately paled at that news. Proximity to the opposite sex was nothing compared to the realization that his classmate was in love with that guy who just barged in, insulted his class, and then left.

"The whole thing..?" He weakly asked, covering his mouth with one hand to hide the way his jaw dropped at the news.

"Yes," Mina hissed yet again, looking around before continuing. "The doki-doki, badump-badump. The rose-tinted glasses. The whole head-over-heels. The comment about biting the other guy. Our classmate is in love."

"Oh no... we're too young! Studies should be a priority, not romance!"

"I'd love to say otherwise, but right now we have to find a way to help our classmate fall out of love with that guy before it's too late."

"A shameful thing..."

"But our classmate, our friend, can do so much better than him. We just need to expose a side worse than the one he exposed today."

It was settled. Mina and Iida would help you rise back out of love via... exposure therapy.

"What're you two talking about?"

"Nothing big, just planning a few things, dear classmate!"

"Okay then... you do you, I guess."

They both sighed in relief as you went back to doodling and rubbing the back of your head. This had to be kept a secret, lest unwanted events occur, like you falling deeper in love.

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Part one of plan Yellow Rose. Yellow roses mean 'friendship'. They can accept friendship, but not romance.

Mina and Iida brought you to 1-B's classroom. Surely, seeing Monoma new side would diminish your affection for him, right? That's what they hoped for, anyways.

"What're we doing, again?"

"We're taking you to class 1-B to apologize for your uncouth comment. Their class representative heard you from the hallway."

That right there was a rehearsed line from last night. Thankfully, it wasn't too hard to convince you to follow them so a lot of the lines they practiced didn't need to be used.

"And right here is the other class..." Mina started talking as she opened the door, but she hesitated when you stepped inside.

"Don't make a scene, okay?"

"..."

"Buddy?"

Too late. Iida was frantically moving his arms and making robotic gestures that Mina couldn't make heads or tails of, while you had already locked onto someone and beelined towards him.

"Wishboy! You're here! No wonder you disappeared so quickly yesterday, you were here all along! Oh, wow, you're really pretty up close. Has anyone told you before that you've got really smooth skin? Your lips, too. They're like flower petals."

Monoma's face progressively got redder the longer you rambled on, to the point where it was visible despite his efforts to hide his blush.

"Oh, really? well, I wish I could say the same for you, but I'd rather not waste my breath on the likes of you." Monoma teased, though he was as smooth as almond butter at the moment.

"Really? Damn... because even your voice is pretty, too."

Part one obviously failed, judging by the current situation. Mina facepalmed while Iida picked you up by the arms and walked back out of the classroom, the lovestruck look on your face obvious to anyone seeing it.

However, while they left with you in tow, Monoma couldn't help but wonder...

"...are you playing with me, or is this real?"

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Part two. Since meeting him when he was calm didn't work, how about when he was riled up after training? Surely, seeing him all messed up, exhausted, and disheveled should do the trick.

Mina and Iida had teamed up with Sero and Tooru to make sure this plan won't screw up... again.

They had told you to bring some perfume and towels just in case, though you came to the training grounds with the entire beach supply set. Handheld fan, sunscreen, UV umbrella, the works. Maybe you saw that the temperature was high today or something.

Sero, Tooru, and Mina were definitely thankful for the shade since it was sweltering outside. Iida was negotiating with Vlad King to watch the rest of training. The 1-B students had mostly finished their training ahead of time and were resting under one of the thinner umbrellas on the training area at the moment, but there were a few more students that didn't come over yet...

"Can you see him, Mina..?" Tooru whispered behind you, fanning herself to keep away the heat.

"No, not yet. Where is he? He- oh."

And over the negligible hill came Monoma.

Dear god, what a mess.

Sweating, shaking, stumbling, somehow in last place, and downright unrecognizable to the untrained eye. And he somehow lost his gym uniform top.

What. A. Mess-

"Wait. Hold on, are you kidding me?"

"Noooo... nooo!"

When the trio looked towards you, you were practically eyeing him up like a critic over a runway model despite him being the furthest thing away from a model at the moment.

Mina had hidden behind Tooru to shield herself, though it was the handheld fan that did most of the work and not Tooru herself for obvious reasons. Sero had just looked away.

While the three students had deigned themselves to not look while you fawned over what was probably the messiest sight ever, you walked up to Monoma with a towel, some water, and an ice pack in hand.

Iida, however, was able to see what was going on after Vlad King was satisfied with his explanation.

"Want some water?"

"Yeah, sure. Thanks for the wa..." Iida could see that Monoma took the offered water and took a hefty swig, but choked when he saw who it was.

"Y-you!?"

"Yeah, it's me. Heh, you're really cute when shocked."

"I'm not cute! Why're you here, anyways!? To make fun of me? You probably are!"

"But that's mean, and you're far too cute to be mean to..."

"You're lying. I can see it on your face. AH! Let go unless you want me to copy your Quirk!"

"I'm fine with that if it means I get to hold your hand."

"...you're not deterred by the fact I can copy your Quirk?"

"Of course not! I actually think it's a really cool and useful power,

Iida felt like he was watching an unstoppable force and an unmovable wall go head-to-head, but the wall was crumbling quickly and gaining the shade of red bricks as it did.

The wall being Monoma. Oddly enough, Iida felt a bit sour watching this entire exchange, watching you wipe the sweat off Monoma's face casually despite the boy's protests and how you kept on teasing him.

"Ah, the sourness of being single..."

Iida jumped, or would have, if he didn't have Mina's hands on his shoulders while she grimaced.

"It's like they're in a relationship and they don't even know it. Frustrating! I ship it, though."

"Mm-hmm." He agreed, before guiding his friends away from the training grounds. He now knew what it felt like to be a 'single dog' that he always heard about, unfortunately.

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A week later.

"So..."

Monoma fidgeted around with one the many daisy-buttercup flower rings on his hands, sitting on a picnic blanket under a tree while you had two dandelions in hand and scoured the field for more.

"Did you really mean them? Those compliments you said to me."

"Hmm... yep. All of them. I wouldn't be bothered to even think of any if they weren't about you, wishboy."

It was so, so confusing. He plucked a daisy from nearby, admiring the petals and the slight pinkish hues. English daisies with their gentle hues and layers of petals. He started picking at the petals, a small game of 'Love me, loves me not' going though his mind.

"That's more flattering than I thought it'd be, really. I still can't believe that you don't mind me touching you, even my own classmates needed a little while to get used to me, and boom! Here you are, just..."

"Waltzing up to you without a hint of discomfort?"

You sat down next to him and offered him a dandelion that had already turned into a soft puff of seeds. He took it, but didn't look at it closely in favor of looking at you.

"Yeah. It's almost uncanny, but also comforting."

"Aww, it's nice to hear that you think of me in that way. Really."

You stretched out, raising your own dandelion in front of you while you held onto his free hand.

"Wanna know why I brought you out here?"

"It's not because you want to compare blooming dandelions to my hair, is it?"

"Only partially. The real thing is that... well, it's a childish thing, really, but if you blow on these," You lifted up your dandelion a bit more to emphasize it. "And make a wish, it might come true. That's what I grew up being told, anyways."

Blowing on plant seeds to make a wish, huh? Curious. He set aside his half-plucked daisy and kept the dandelion you gave him securely in hand, ready to blow on it whenever.

"It does seem a little silly, but judging by how big the field is, it must be fun, anyways."

"Definitely."

Monoma could feel his hand being squeezed, but he successfully ignored the blush on his cheeks as he saw you ready to blow on your dandelion.

Three...

Two...

One...

Fwuuuuuuu!

You and Monoma blew on your dandelions at the same time, watching the seeds scatter into the wind and lift into the sky.

"This feels kind of like a date."

And there goes the mood. He gulped a bit out of nervousness, and suddenly, his collar felt a bit too tight.

"Oh, sorry. This could just be hanging out if you want-" "No! No, I- uh... I'm fine with this being a date, actually."

Your silence felt suffocating. More suffocating than anything else's he's felt. He squeezed his eyes shut, anticipating disappointment.

He didn't anticipate the soft touch of your lips on his hand.

"A date it is, then. I was just a bit shocked earlier because wow, you're really pretty and I just realized that again."

He opened his eyes, much less tense than earlier... then he threw a bunch of petals into your face.

"Don't do that! You scared me, hahaha!"

"Pfffbwth- ah, okay, I won't do that next time, but also, petal attack!"

♡✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿♡

Class 1-A and 1-B were watching from a distance to make sure everything went well as it could be... and in return, they got the heart-wrenching feeling of being single.

A worthy sacrifice. Especially since Kaibara got some really good pictures on his polaroid camera to pin up later.

[blackcherryvelvet0909]

Twitterpated (Vil x Rook)

Note: This piece takes place during Vil and Rook's first year at NRC

Silken skin; sun-kissed hair,

Cascading into a lavender wave;

Beautiful eyes, with an enrapturing stare; 

All of him, I achingly crave. 

I come on bended knee, 

And ask, plead to the beauty,

“My all, I beseech thee:

Bid me to do your every duty. 

Use me as you see fit;

My life and soul,

Every single bit,

I give myself whole.

I will follow you,

To any inch of earth; 

Anything, I will do, 

To prove to you my worth. 

Beauty, it is you I love;

My king, the truth lays bare, 

From hells below to heavens above,

I am forever yours, mon cher. 

Birds chirped high in the trees and atop sprawling buildings, accompanied by the rustle of leaves and distant chatter. The man knelt before the bench breathed not a word as he awaited the beauty’s response. It was a sweet kind of torture, not knowing what he would say. Though a rejection, perhaps a swift kick of a heeled shoe, would wound him so, with it would bring its own form of beauty. No matter the outcome of this bold proclamation, Rook would take it gracefully as any man could. He kept his smile and gaze aimed at the man before him, waiting patiently, with bated breath. 

The response he received was not what he expected at all. “It needs work,” commented the vision sitting elegantly upon the bench seat. “The pacing was a tad off, as well as some of the verb tenses. If you would write the poem down, we can go over it to see where you can improve.” 

Ah, so he thought Rook was presenting him with a simple poem. Vil Schoenheit, the man who the Savanaclaw first year had been smitten with the moment he laid eyes on him, believed Rook was silently asking for feedback and advice. This was not the first advance the beautiful young man unknowingly rejected; Rook surmised a guess that it was far from the last. A feeling of disappointment took hold around Rook’s heart, yet it was combined with a sense of admiration. To think this prodigy of the stage would so willingly offer him aid - ah! Magnifique! He oh-so loved him. 

Despite the dismay burrowing in his gut, Rook’s smile morphed into a grin. He rose from his place on the paved path and put his hat, which remained over his heart for the duration of his confession, atop his head. The first year did it in such a manner that it would not obscure his sight. Rook didn’t want to tear his gaze from the beauty. “Merci, Roi du Poison! Rest assured I will hang onto every word.”

Vil’s smirk took the hunter’s breath away. “Are you certain you won’t be distracted? Your eye does tend to wonder when something interests you.” 

Nothing could interest me more than you, ma beaute - is what Rook yearned to say. However, as the actor still appeared unaware of his true affections, he didn’t dare utter the words aloud. “I swear on my life that I will not stray from your teachings.” 

Vil let forth a small giggle, accentuated by his hand coming up to lightly cover his mouth. And he did it so gracefully, too. Ah! Rook could feel himself grow faint. No, he must resist! Not only to keep his word, but also to not scare the pretty boy. 

The last time Rook passed out due to an overwhelming show of Vil’s own beauty, Vil had been beside himself with worry. Rook remembered the scolding he received upon his waking fondly. Great Seven, Rook thought he’d died and awakened in the afterlife, being greeted by an angel the moment his eyelids fluttered open. Apparently his grin was so drunken, so lopsided, that the nurse thought him intoxicated. Yes, they were right, in a way. To be enraptured by such an ethereal sight often had that effect on a person. 

Rook watched Vil rise from his seat. He now had to tilt up his head to face Vil, the heels of the beauty’s shoes making him even more taller than he already was. It felt nice to be looked down upon by him. Whether you take that as degrading or not is up to you. Either answer is most likely correct. Vil could spit in Rook’s face and the freckled man would thank him - perhaps, if he were feeling bold, he’d ask for another. Surely you understand? 

“Meet me at the library tomorrow, four p.m. sharp.” Vil slightly tilted his head to the left. “When I’m done with you, you’ll put the common poet to shame.” 

Use me as you see fit - so said Rook when he recited his love poem. He meant that with his whole heart. He nodded eagerly, practically beaming as he said, “Tres bien! Besides my poem, should I bring you anything else? I could bring some of my others.”

For Vil, Rook would do anything. His Roi du Poison need only ask, command, demand - however he might utter the task. Rook Hunt would see it through to the end. He would go so far as to abandon his dorm and become the beauty’s lap dog, should he request it. 

…No, actually. He didn’t have to. Why hadn’t Rook thought of that before? He would start the process that very evening! 

[lordgeneralsix]

giving you a few drinks actually. i love your essays. i would love to hear your silly headcanons and shield you from the rocks also <3

lately i've been stuck thinking about how erik and istvan's relationship evolved. like did istvan immediately see something in him and latch onto him? or was erik a weird kid kept around just for the bit of it? if erik was young enough when istvan took him in—what was it like, a childhood under him? if he was in his late teenage years already; how did erik adapt to this sudden upheaval, so reminiscent of what's happened to henry? i'm gnawing at the bars of my enclosure. warhose. prequel kcd i'm begging you

ah well thank you kindly, glad I'm not on this cursed site for nothing then<3

unfortunately all the alcohol in my house has been confiscated for um. reasons unrelated to me. so guess I'll have to see what I can cook up sober at some point just for you👁️

I also can't stop thinking about that... and I won't even lie, writing all of that convinced me there had to have been Something wrong w erik long before he met istvan. either that was the most fucked up kid istvan had ever seen or the most pathetic. no doubt he's orphaned hundreds of kids anyway, but something about erik was enough for istvan to take him in and raise him in his image. and yeah, who knows. maybe istvan did his job as usual, but erik wouldn't leave him alone. following him around like some wounded stray until he finally decided, "hell, why not. maybe I can make him useful."

and who knows, I can also see the father-son story being just a cover for them. I mean, it's not exactly seen as normal to be gay right. maybe erik never saw him as a father, more of a mentor, definitely a lover. but he'll say it because it's easier for people to understand - especially with that age gap - than the alternative. i like that henry gets it immediately, and in turn erik knows there's something between henry and hans (<3 how homophobic they make each other lmao)

i genuinely do think some kind of kcd prequel about isterik would be interesting. I can definitely see it from erik's perspective with brief glimpses into istvan's when they're apart - perhaps mirroring henry and theresa, it would be the night his village was raided. i'd like to see how erik was, if he even had any friends or if he was always the weird kid. maybe his home life was a lot less loving than henry's, more strained than theresa's. maybe life was simple and erik was restless. I mean, look how easy it was for zbyshek, matthew, and fritz to turn to banditry, they were already known troublemakers. it doesn't take much to turn a boy into a killer, but cowards don't get very far when they follow the herd. erik stood on his own, he was strong and istvan valued that.

then we'd see istvan how erik saw him, the black knight straight from hell who spared his life. he must've felt special to be under the gaze of such a being, like it was god himself keeping him alive for some higher purpose. I suppose it doesn't matter whether he killed his parents or not. to erik, he saved him from the mundane routine killing him first. I don't blame erik for revering the man, it's hard to not get high off such attention. that's why they're especially unnerving, this could happen to anyone under the right circumstances. it could've happened to henry.

it'd be nice to see what else they got up to from there. how istvan raised him, how their dynamics change when they're being watched and when behind closed doors. just how much of istvan is real, now much of erik is suppressed?

there's a lot of potential to explore all kinds of what ifs with them and my fascination is endless. I can only hope we get something more in kcd3 or by some miracle some kind of prequel.

[promenadewithme]

The Viscount Who Deceived Me - Part 2

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | ...

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Fem! Reader, maybe a bit of Benedict Bridgerton x Fem! Reader? (winkwink)

Warnings: angst, fluff, pining, unintentional friend-zone? read at your own risk

Word Count: 2.5K words

a/n: I have decided to turn this into a multiple part series and I really want to know whether you like this or not! All feedback is welcome and wanted.

By some miracle, the... commotion didn't reach any society papers. The Bridgertons, your mama, and the coachman managed to remain silent about the matter. And so did you. In fact, you had been completely silent since the moment you entered that carriage 3 days prior.

You wanted to scream and throw things. You wanted to do anything, have any reaction. However, all the feelings that tore you apart from the inside never reached the surface.

Not until you were alone, in the middle of the night. That was the only moment you allowed the silent tears to fall down your cheeks.

To the whole ton, you and Anthony were still that same engaged, happy, and loving couple who spread hope through the hearts of unwed ladies. Yet, that was no longer the truth of it, maybe it never really was.

Now you knew, but you were once just as fooled as the young souls who believed your love was true.

'There is no such thing.' you thought to yourself.

The blinds were still closed, but the faint light from the candle you had left burning the night before was enough for you to read the Whistledown from the day your heart shattered.

'this isn’t a vantageous marriage, but one of love.'

The phrase was etched into your head, having read it a thousand times already since your mind was restless the entire night, spiralling with theories about Anthony's affair.

'Had it been going on this entire time?'

'Did he ever truly love me?'

'Was I just a pawn in his game or did he realise I was not enough for him somewhere along the way?'

A soft knock at your door pulled you from your thoughts and had you lifting your head slightly from the pillow. Your mama walked in with the 'pity smile'. That's what you had decided to call it.

Ever since the night it happened, your mother would look at you with her head slightly tilted to the side, shoulders inward, and a pained look on her face that could only be considered a smile seeing that her mouth was slightly turned upward. It would have made you laugh, were you not in your constant state of heartache and misery.

"Good morning, my dear." she greeted, removing a stray hair from your face, and continued towards the curtains before asking "How are you this morning?"

You cringed at the sudden light and sank your head back to the pillow with a grunt.

Your mother huffed before strutting determinately to you.

"Today you shall leave this room." she said, removing your covers.

"Mother, please-" you started, but she cut you off.

"I have given you time to grieve for your broken heart, but it has been three days. This is the first time you have even spoken. It is time to stand up, hold your head high."

She grabbed your hands and gave you an encouraging smile.

"He said he loved me..." you whispered, eyes welling up again.

Your mother sat down with a sigh and wiped away a fallen tear. Leaning into her hand, you thanked the Lord for having a mother that was also a friend.

"My dear child," she felt her own tears threaten to fall "it pains me to see you like this."

"I am so sorry, mama..." you sobbed "I am sorry for not being good enough."

"Don't you say that!" she scolded, then added softly "Don't you dare say that."

You sniffled as she pulled you into her embrace.

"You are everything, my dear. You are beautiful. You are kind. You are courageous. You are well read. You are everything a mother, a friend or a husband could ever ask for and more." holding your shoulders, she tried to make you see, but you persisted.

"But I was not enough for Anthony."

"Anthony Bridgerton is a rake and a fool!" she exclaimed and you shushed her.

"You mustn't say such things. Word could go out about our broken betrothal."

"That is precisely what I have come to speak to you about." she said, eyes darting to the side before coming back to yours "Do you truly wish to end your betrothal?"

"Mama!" you shot up and she followed suit.

"Surely, you know that a love match is a rare occurrence. Men are never faithful to their wives and, as much as I truly believe you deserve only the best, we need be realistic."

"You mean to say that I should marry him only to be sent off to the country to live in eternal loneliness and misery while he lives a happy life with his mistress here in the city?" you gasped "What about everything you have just said?"

"My dear, I mean all that I have said to you, but being Viscountess... You will have a good life, a comfortable life. Most of us cannot have the luxury of waiting for true love to come around. I should not be telling you this, but..." she paused and lowered her voice "Your father is set on marrying you to Lord Hughes after what happened with your betrothed."

"Hughes?" you fell back on the bed "But he is older than Papa!"

'This cannot be happening.' you thought desperately.

"It is why I am telling you to make amends with the Bridgerton boy. None of them will be loyal to you and I wish that I could change it, but at least he is younger and doesn't have 3 deceased wives that died of mysterious causes."

"You and I both know that there is nothing mysterious about being pushed down the stairs." you were heaving "There must be another way, I..."

Your hand shot up to your stomach, as if that would stop the nausea.

Everything was wrong, everything was falling apart. If you could only turn back time and...

'What could I have done differently?' you pondered.

'Not fallen for Anthony? Maybe accepted the affections of any other gentleman? Who could tell if anything would be different or if all men are the same?'

You stood up with a determined gleam in your eyes.

"Mama, send for quill and paper. I shall have tea with the Bridgertons." you decided as you walked to your closet.

The moment your carriage pulled up to the Bridgerton house, Eloise came running out. Your valet opened the door and you were engulfed in a tight hug. The comforting smell of old books and something woodsy crowded your senses and you wrapped your arms around your friend.

"I never thought I'd see you again." she whispered against your hair "Thought my bedswerver of a brother had ruined us forever."

You pulled away to look into her eyes "Nothing could ever ruin us. We are best friends, it would take a whole lot more to chase me away from you."

She smiled and pulled you along "We best get inside, it is much too cold and the tea is already brewing."

Taking a deep breath and fixing your newest sapphire blue dress, you followed her into the familiar house. Your families had been connected since your infancy. The Dowager Viscountess had been a close friend to your mother ever since she had first wed the late Viscount Bridgeton. Your grandmama had taught them both all there was to know about being a good wife.

'I suppose it mustn't have been that hard to please someone who was head over heels in love with you already.' you thought.

You were only a child when Edmund Bridgerton passed, but you, as well as everyone else in the ton, would always remember the love between him and his wife.

A love you thought Anthony would have had with you.

Eloise pushed open the door to the drawing room where only her mama and Daphne sat. You sighed a breath of relief and curtsied.

"My dear girl." Violet stood and gave you a hug "I never expected to see you so soon, but I am glad you are here."

Her warm smile eased you, despite the ache you felt. His smell was here, his very essence in this house. You wanted so badly to hate him, but your good memories betrayed you.

Ice skating in the lake by the house, having ice cream at the parlour, horseback riding in the park, laughing until your stomach hurt, passing touches during balls.

“I cannot think of anything else, Siena.” he whispered before kissing her neck.

"One last night to remember.” he kissed her again.

The memories were like a slap and you fell back into reality, Violet's face replacing them.

"It is a pleasure to see you again, Viscountess Bridgerton." you bowed your head.

"Please, my child. We are past that, I have told you time and time again to call me Violet." she caressed your arm with the tenderness of a mother.

"Forgive me, Violet..." you took a deep breath in and prayed to God that your tears only fell at home "Is Anthony home?"

"He left early this morning with a horse, but-"

As if sensing his presence being summoned, the doors to the drawing room flew open and Anthony walking in with searching eyes. They landed on you and he strode in your direction.

It looked like he was going to hug you, but he stopped less than a foot from you and took a step back.

"(y/n), I-" he started, but you could not bare to hear him, so you halted his words with a hand on his.

"My lord, I wish to apologise." you said bowing your head in what might have looked like a submissive stance, but was actually you swerving his piercing gaze.

"What?" exclaimed Eloise.

Anthony started speaking again, but you had to finish saying what you came to say. You had it all planned out in your mind and if you didn't go through with your speech, it might all go to ruins.

"I over-reacted. I know most men take on lovers before and during wed-lock, it is a normal occurrence and I had no right to condemn you for it." Bile rose up your throat, but you continued "I ask you to take me back, if you will still have me."

"Have you gone mad?" Eloise shook your shoulders.

"Please," you whispered, eyes stinging with unshed tears "Let me do this. I will explain everything later."

Your best friend looked disappointed, but took a step back. Your heart sunk even further into your chest.

Looking back at Anthony, you asked again "Will you have me, my lord?"

Eyebrows furrowed as ever, mouth agape with unspoken thoughts, he nodded once and pursed his lips in a frown.

You let out a pent up breath and forced a smile "I shall see you at the Cowper ball this evening, then?"

"Yes, but (y/n)-"

"I must go, I have a fitting at the modiste for tonight."

With a brief curtsy, you fled the room. Turning to run down the stairs, you bumped into Benedict.

"Whoa." he grabbed the handrail with one hand and your waist with the other to keep you both from falling.

Your chest bumped into his and you looked up, tears blurring your sight.

"(y/n)?" his voice sounded surprised. You could not see his face, but you would wager those expressive eyes of his also were. "What are you doing here? Why are you crying? What did he do?"

His thumb caught a fallen tear and he cupped your face, slowly stroking your cheek.

"Who do I have to beat up? Besides my dalcop brother, of course." he joked with that side smile of his and you answered with something between a laugh and a sob.

"Me. I fear the culprit is me this time."

His brows furrowed and you elaborated "I came to ask for your brother's forgiveness and if he would still have me."

His finger stopped "What?"

"It is a long story." you sighed, holding his arm.

"I have time." he offered and you smiled.

Truly smiled for the first time in 3 days.

"Very well, then. Walk me home?"

He offered his arm and answered "It would be my pleasure."

You took it and you both walked down the stairs and out of the house in comfortable silence.

"Do you remember old Hughes?" you asked and the Bridgerton twisted his face.

"The one who smells like a chimney and was around since before christ?"

You laughed "That's the one."

"What about him?" Ben asked and you stopped walking to look at him.

"After what happened with Anthony, my father started thinking of offering him my hand."

"Hughes?" he gasped.

"So, it was either asking if Anthony would still have me or marrying the oldest and most disgusting man this town has ever seen." You started walking again.

"That's not true." He murmured.

"What do you mean?" You asked.

"There are countless other men who want your hand. Men who would treat you better than both of them. Love you like you deserve to be loved."

You saw your house and slowed your steps. Without any siblings, the closest thing you had to family, beside your mother, were the Bridgertons. They felt like home.

This felt like home.

"Well, if you know any, send them my way." you smiled softly, then added solemnly "My father insists on me getting married since I have already been out for 3 seasons. I have no other choice. If I did, I..."

You both stopped in front of your house, the sharp scent of geranium from your mother's garden invaded your nose.

"I don't know what I'd do. I don't even know if I believe in love anymore." you sighed in defeat.

"I don't believe that." said Benedict, holding your hands in his "You? Are we talking about the same person? The one who has read romance novels since always, picks wildflowers for her bedroom, stops to feel the wind against her hair, cries at the opera, and spends more time daydreaming than awake in the present?"

You smiled sheepishly and looked at your shoes. Benedict wouldn't have that. He put a finger under your chin and lifted your head.

His eyes were soft when he said "You are love personified. Nothing and no one will ever take that away. Any man would be the most fortunate being in this earth to spend the rest of their life by your side."

You were speechless as he kissed your hand and turned to leave.

You grabbed his arm before he could go "That was the most beautiful thing anyone has ever said to me"

When he only looked down with a smile, you continued "I wish I could hug you without it being improper, you are like a brother to me after all."

"Well," his eyes fell "we all wish for things we cannot have."

Benedict lowered his lips to your hand in a lingering kiss.

"I will see you tonight."

Then he left.

a/n: this was initially just going to be a one part Anthony Bridgerton angst fic. However, I got so many request on part 1 to continue this, so I started thinking about where this could head and I have so much to write for this already. I absolutely pouring my heart and soul into this series for the past few days, so please tell me if it's good or absolute shit.

General Tag List: @crazy-beautiful @missryerye

Bridgerton Tag List: @dancingwith-sunflowers @for-bebbanburg @navs-bhat @elishi03 @s-unflowxr @thebreadisthetruevillian @peakyweirdo @lucyysthings @freyathehuntress @rach2602

People who asked for Part 2: @snixx2088 @acourtofbooksandfantasy @alldaysdreamer @dandansdays @freyagallileaevans @alldaysdreamers @lizziesfirstwife @theonewithallthemilkshakes @freyathehuntress @ilovehopelessromantics @venomsvl

Click here if you want to join any of my tag lists (ps: I added more fandoms and characters)

If you can and want to, buy me a Ko-Fi!

[xerith-42]

*bats my eyes at you* spare some angsty headcanons perhaps?

Ask and you shall receive

Laurance is triggered by the smell of burning hair. Bro had hair down to his waist and then went into literal hell, I imagine so much of it caught on fire or was maybe even deliberately burnt, and it's such a distinct smell. It rarely happens, but if a stray spark from the fire accidentally catches on Cadenza's hair Laurance kind of freaks out a little. Fight or flight kicks in but he freezes but he also fights but he's also frozen and that smell is so awful he literally wants to rip his own skin off.

Katelyn doesn't ever think she'll love again. It's why she's so put off by Travis' advances, she just doesn't think it's a possibility. Every time she thinks about love she thinks about Jeffory. Seeing him on the island, even if it was an imp, did not help matters.

Kenmur still loves Sasha. He will always love Sasha. There is no amount of time that will stop him from loving her. Even if he also loves Emmalyn more than life itself, even if he's dedicated himself to his wife and his studies, there's still always that part of him that will answer to Sasha. Whenever she's around he can feel himself being pulled towards her just from the sound of her voice.

Zianna hates the sound of silence. So many years completely alone in such a huge estate. By the time Zane and Garroth disappeared, she was effectively estranged from her husband, only staying so they can maintain this cover of the Lord and Lady of O'Khasis. But their home is massive, designed for an entire family and then some. Even after Vylad and Garroth "died", Zane kept the house busy and often had Jury members present. The hollow emptiness of her home is nearly maddening for the poor woman.

The only reason Zianna never left is because she still held out hope for all of her sons. Zianna held out hope that any one of them would come stumbling in through the front door, likely beaten and bloody, and she would be able to take them into her arms and welcome them home.

This could very well turn into it's own post but here's a few small relic angst headcanons. Aph starts to lose her sense of self because sometimes she'll talk and it won't sound like her. They have mostly similar speech patterns, and she says things she would normally say, but it sounds like someone else, and she can never put her finger on it. Others notice, but nobody can quite figure out what's wrong with it. Until Zoey hears it and says it sounds familiar.

Travis usually likes to be a bit of a know-it-all, having a lot of random bits of trivia he's just learned from years of having nothing to do but entertain himself alone in a cabin, but sometimes the facts he gives are on subjects he never studied. He knows it's because of Enki's relic and he can't do anything about it. He hates how monotone his voice sounds whenever it happens, like he isn't even happy to know this information.

I'm sorry but we cannot gloss over how much turmoil Garroth would be over getting Esmunds relic after Zane already had it. He lies awake at night wondering what the three of them have in common, what he and Zane have in common at all. How could the protector bond with such a destructive awful man? How much is Garroth really like his brother? Can he even say he isn't like his brother if they were able to bond with the same relic?

Zoey may not have personally known all the previous relic holders, but she saw them. She was ten when Irene was walking among the mortals. Sometimes when she looks at her friends she sees... someone else. Someone so familiar, so similar to them, but the details aren't right. She can't tell if this is an effect of the relics or her own dwindling sanity/life force after giving up her immortality.

And entirely for myself because I will keep rewriting Aaron in my posts, Aaron feels such tremendous guilt like all the time. The survivors guilt has consumed everything he is, even the relationship that's supposed to be healing it. All he can think about is how he let everyone down, when he was supposed to lead them. Aaron wears the bandana not because he's hiding his identity, but to hide the permanently miserable look in his eyes.

[dalmascan-requiem]

Zephyr's Cadence Moments: Lullaby

(Vierapril Day 1 - Soft)

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Sleep tight.

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Read on AO3 or keep reading after the jump

content warnings: none

(main Vierapril 2025 post)

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ow my heart I love them so much

(Gale being a toxic parent already by 'suggesting' things to Katerina to get Laurent to do them, LOL. I mean not really but lmao)

"Dad, I'm scared…"

Laurent gently pats Katerina on the head as they lay in her bed together. "It's okay, Kat, the tiger the neighbor boy told you about isn't going to eat you. There aren't any tigers in Dalmasca."

"But… but… Mommy told me that the soldiers would ride tigers to battle! Can't they run here then too?"

"That's in Bozja, dear. I don't know if they do that anymore, either…"

"If they don't then that means the tigers are running wild!" Katarina pulls her bedsheet to cover everything but her eyes, and Laurent suppresses a sigh.

I think I need to have a chat with this boy… "If a tiger does come here, Gale and I would protect you."

Katarina fixes Laurent with a disbelieving look. "Really? Daddy doesn't seem all that strong…"

Laurent chuckles and gives the girl's shoulder a light squeeze. "Come now, he'd be sad if he heard you say that. He's far stronger than he looks."

"Hm." Katerina seems unconvinced, and shortly after, a yawn escapes her lips. "I'm tired… but…"

"I'll stay here and protect you. You settle in, okay?"

Katarina lies down, but a hint of nervousness is still apparent in her expression. She fidgets a bit, then turns to look at her father. "Will you sing to me, Dad?"

"I don't know how to sing, dear…"

"Daddy said you used to sing together when you were kids!"

Godsdamnit, Eir… "Kat, I'm nearly 200, that was a long time ago… I haven't sung since then. I don't think it'd be pleasant to hear."

"But Daddy also said that how you sound doesn't matter! As long as you put your heart into it." Katerina nods and her golden eyes sparkle in anticipation.

"I can't argue with that…" Laurent looks at the door to the bedroom with a frown, almost hoping Gale would burst through and have a good laugh at his expense. When he didn't, though, Laurent turned back to Katerina with a sigh. "Fine. I can't guarantee it'll sound good."

The small girl simply stares and waits for him to begin. Hells, what do I even sing…?

** **

Gale quietly closes the front door to the flower shop, locking it behind him with a huff. Finally free from those two. So talkative… The Viera had noticed Katerina and the neighbor's son had been getting along recently, and while he was happy she found a friend her age, the boy also seemed prone to telling tall tales. After spending tea with his parents, Gale could see where he got all the stories from.

"Now, where's Reyna…" Gale turns to look around, but his ears quickly perk up at a sound coming from Katerina's room. Is… is that singing? By the Twelve, I don't believe it…

Being as quiet as possible, Gale made his way to the bedroom, peeking inside to see Laurent softly singing in a lot, baritone voice to Katerina. He recognized the song as an old lullaby from their village—something one of the women used to sing to them when they couldn't fall asleep.

Gale smiled as he listened to his husband sing. It's been far too long since I've heard his voice, it's still lovely… After a while, Laurent trails off, brushing a few stray hairs from the sleeping Hrothgar's face, then turns to look at Gale, frustration clear on his face.

"Oh!" Guess I wasn't as quiet as I thought. "Well, good evening my—"

Laurent quickly steps out of the room and closes the door, keeping his glare fixed on his husband. "Why did you tell her I could sing?"

"I never said that—" Laurent crosses his arms, and Gale rolls his eyes. "—directly. Besides, you can sing, my love.

"That doesn't matter—"

"So you're admitting you can? After all these decades of me asking and you saying no? I'm hurt!"

Laurent responds with a low growl of annoyance, prompting Gale to step close and pull his husband into an embrace. "Reyna, it's not like anything I said to Katerina was a lie. It doesn't matter how you sound when you sing, as long as you put your heart into it…" Gale offers the other Viera a sheepish smile. "But I must say, even after all these years, your voice is still beautiful…"

The annoyed expression turns bashful at Gale's compliment. "O-oh… well… it's not as beautiful as yours…"

Gale chuckles. "You never can take a compliment… but thank you." His hands slowly make their way to Laurent's waist as he lightly pulls him closer. "Perhaps… you can sing for me tonight, as well? If you desire, I might be able to provide a few… lessons…"

Laurent sighs at his husband's poorly veiled proposition. "Who am I to deny assistance from such an accomplished bard?"

"That's the spirit, my love." Gale gently tugs on Laurent's arm as he turns to head to their room. "My lessons aren't free, though, I hope you can pay the fee…"

"You can stop with the wordplay, Eir, you're not being coy."

Gale huffs and gives Laurent's arm a harder tug. "Let me have my fun, Reyna. Now come on."

[angelllbby222]

Conflicted Pt: 14 🎀

Izzy P.O.V

Our band received the best selling album label by the time our tour had ended, but our manager scheduled us to perform a gig at the Troubadour for old times sake.

We agreed to it, of course, it was nostalgic for us too, to see how far we had come since the last time we were at the Troubadour.

I was also excited for Maddy to come and see us perform since she’d never seen me play live.

“Izzy do you think your groupies will show up tonight.” she scoffed looking through her pile of clothes, scattered everywhere in the closet.

“Can’t say they won’t but I don’t care about them when I have you.” I cooed pulling her in from behind, so her body was pressed against mine.

She looked into the standing mirror that was in her closet and sighed.

“I wish you would hug me like this in front of them to show them your mine.”

“Baby-

“I know I know, it would ruin your playboy imagine.” she muttered pulling away to bend down at the black dress that was peeking out of the pile.

“You are not wearing that.” I laughed grabbing the flimsy material and throwing it at the top of her shelf.

“I am! If you don’t want us to be seen together then I don’t have to dress like I’m in a relationship.” Maddy retorted fisting her hands at her sides and stomping her foot down.

“I’m not letting you around the guys with this dress.” I told her imagining what would happen if she wore the tiny fabric.

I know Axl would love it.

“You’re not the boss of me.” she said attempting to grab at the shelf with her 5’6 frame.

“If you can grab it. You can wear it…I guess.” I replied rolling my eyes at her persistence to wear the tiny piece of clothing.

Did she have any idea what Axl would do if he saw her in the dress?

All of his self control would go out the door and into Maddy’s panties.

… … …

We all arrived an hour late to the gig since Duff got into an argument with Maddy over the tiny black dress and threatened her to change but Maddy didn’t budge so they went at it for another 20 minutes.

I intervened and told Maddy to just wear my jean jacket over it to which Duff agreed and said was a great solution.

“Maddy I better not see you without that jacket at the venue. I’m just trying to protect you from the guys y’know.” Duff sighed, looking at his younger sister who was currently ignoring him at the moment.

“It’s okay man. I’ll look at her.” I said giving Duff a reassuring nod before we all hopped into his car and made our way to the venue.

Slash,Axl and Steven all came together since they lived closer than Duff.

And obviously I didn’t have a place at the moment so I technically lived with Duff.

“I’m so excited to play this gig!” Steven exclaimed twisting his drumsticks in between his fingers and kicking his feet at the table which was provided in the backstage room.

“Same.” Slash replied chugging down the bottle of Jack Daniel while taking a few drags of his cigarette.

I couldn’t tell where he was looking since his shades were completely covering his eyes and his hat hid most of his upper forehead, hiding any expressions.

But I could see him smiling and giggling to Axl about something, and Axl was looking directly towards Maddy.

“Is something the matter guys?” I asked, my tone visibly bitter as I give Axl a stern look.

Axl then turned towards me with the opposite expression of which he displayed just a few seconds ago and raised his eyebrows a bit.

“Why?” he rudely asked smoking his cigarette and blowing the smoke in my face.

“Fuck off with that shit.” I told him, mostly annoyed by the smoke in my face but also wanting him to back off from Maddy who was completely clueless in what was going on.

“You’re not her daddy Izzy. She can do as she pleases.” Axl smirked getting up from the couch to give some stray groupies autographs.

Maddy sat at the floor since we all took up the couch, I had insisted for her to sit on my lap but she said she was more comfortable on the floor at my knees, I didn’t mind since I got to play with her hair while we did interviews.

Which was a big stress reliever.

I loved having her around during press interviews since I hated fucking speaking to them because all they wanted to know was bullshit personal questions instead of the real discussion, which was music.

“Iz. I have to pee.” Maddy whispered getting up slowly so her dress didn’t ride up.

I was still kind of mad at her for wearing the dress but when she stood up the dress straightened out enough for the jean jacket to cover her ass.

“Will you be okay alone baby?” I asked, since she hadn’t been to the Troubadour before, I wanted to make sure she was comfortable because there were always creeps at some of our shows who preyed on the girls that would come.

She softly declined and gave me a peck on the cheek as I snuck in a quick ass grab when she was bended over to which Duff gave me a sour look.

“Sorry man. Your sis is hot.” I shrugged lighting up a cigarette.

“Gross dude! Just do that shit when I’m not around.” Duff frowned.

“BOYS! WE ARE ON IN 10 MINUTES!” our manager yelled repeatedly slapping his wrist with his pointer finger.

“Can you yell any louder.” Slash mumbled slumping down into the couch with his bottle of Jack Daniel’s which was now empty.

“You didn’t save any for me. Fuck you man!” I whined grabbing the empty bottle and throwing it at the floor.

Slash and Steven burst out laughing while our manager came to calm their drunk asses down.

… … …

Maddy P.O.V

I swerved through the crowd of people who were starting to gather in clusters backstage.

And weaved my way out, desperately trying to locate the women’s room when I ran into Axl with his arm around some random girl.

“Maddy?” he called out,looking at me rather confused.

“I- I’m looking for the bathroom. Have you seen it?” I asked looking both at him and the girl.

“Yeah. I’ll show you.” he replied shrugging off the girl and walking me towards the restrooms.

“Who was that?” I asked looking at him with curious eyes.

I always heard stories about the groupies and how they played with different bands but it was pretty surreal to see it happen in real life.

“Just some girl who likes our music.” he smirked stopping right besides the door to the women’s room.

He walked me into the back of the wall and put his arm up to lean in front of my body.

“I’d like this dress much better without Izzy’s jacket.” he whispered tugging the jean jacket off one shoulder, leaving my right collarbone exposed.

I was wearing an off the shoulder black dress that stopped right below my ass.

It wasn’t something I would ever wear but I found it when I was cleaning and I figured it was left behind by some groupie so I washed it and wore it to look grown up since all the dresses I brought from home were frilly and floral.

And the girls here dressed so different so when I saw the dress it immediately screamed L.A.

“What if I took it off.” he said, not giving me a chance to think, swiftly pulling the jacket off and onto the floor exposing my figure.

“You look so good. Better than all of the girls here.” he gently murmured placing his pointer finger under my chin to direct my gaze on his eyes instead of his feet.

“Stop it Axl. I’m with Izzy.” I mumbled breathing with how close he was to me.

It was almost uncomfortable knowing he could see all of me, since my jacket wasn’t covering me anymore.

He reached for my thigh and started tracing small circles on it, inching closer towards the end of my dress, tugging it up lightly until he exposed half of my panties which were black to match my dress.

“W-wait stop. I can’t I love-

“Izzy. Yeah I get it.” he huffed letting go of me.

“Maddy?”

“Izzy?” I squinted wondering if it was really him or if I was hallucinating.

“I go to look for you to make sure you’re safe and I find you with him.And my jacket is around your feet?” he hissed grabbing his jacket with such force I almost stumbled on my heels.

“It’s not what it looks like I swear. H-he was just helping me found the restroom Iz!” I cried pushing Axl out of the way and following Izzy like a lost puppy.

“I can’t do this right now. Not when I’m about to preform with him.” he spat walking away from me briskly.

I looked back at Axl who was quiet, almost like he was still processing the situation.

“We can’t be together-

“Why. Why not?” he asked walking up to me with wide eyes.

“I-I can’t answer that.”