#and get hidden and buried under everything. but the response time is so poor that a) THIS account was made because of my last

[tcypionate]

very funny that in my support ticket i was like "hey can u delete this sideblog? its glitched and wont show up anywhere including notes and your website is actively preventing me from deleting it myself" and 6+ months later they respond with "sorry for taking so long! can you please tell us what you thought we did wrong?" JUST DELETE THE FUCKING SIDE BLOG

[hvneybuckin]

tashi duncan (mentions art donaldson & patrick zweig.)

afab!reader, stanford!tashi, stanford!reader, tashi records during the act, it's implied that she's sending the recording to artpatrick, strap-ons, artpatrick have a thing for you and tashi knows it

18+. mdni

690 words

from aiden — this one is for my lovely gal kaia @kisses4kaia !! if not for her this one would have never came to fruition 😌

Competition is a big part of tennis, and tennis is Tashi’s life— so it’s no surprise that she’s a sucker for, well…competition. 

Almost everything she does has some kind of competitive undertone to it. ‘Everything’ including you. 

It wasn’t that hard to get you hooked (really, it wasn’t), and she did it right under Art and Patrick’s noses. 

Their liking for you was obvious, obvious enough for her to catch on to it the moment they walked up to you. The way they’d constantly interrupt each other to get your attention. Patrick’s poor excuses of flirting, Art’s rambling about how he admires your technique— all of which to be expected from the pair. However, what really interested her was you. 

So much so that after they walked away, Tashi quickly took their place. “They’re annoying, I know.”

“Who, Patrick and Art?” You look towards the direction they walked with a shrug, “I dunno. They’re cute, though.” She nods in response. 

It’s not like she can deny it.

“You’re Tashi, right? Tashi Duncan?” She nods for the second time, you making yourself familiar in return. 

After that, the two of you never really stopped talking. Of course, you were close with Art and Patrick — annoying as they were —, but you and Tashi were kind of inseparable.

Even when Patrick makes some gross remark, saying that he “wouldn’t be surprised if you guys had fucked.” 

You unfortunately miss Tashi’s grin afterwards, her expression hidden behind the shared can of beer the four of you passed around. 

And of course, once it’s just you two in your dorm, you don’t shut up about it. Not because it’s been on your mind ever since Patrick said it, definitely not because thinking about it has you making a mess of your panties.

No, never that. 

Only because— “It was so absurd! He’s such a weirdo sometimes, I swear.” Tashi doesn’t speak, but instead shrugs, her legs held close to her chest. She gives you a look, one that you could recognize anywhere. 

“…What?” 

“Hm?”

“Tash. I know that look. Tell me what you’re thinking about.” She giggles with a slight shake of her head. It’s obvious that whatever’s on her mind, she’s hesitant to make it known.

“I’m not thinking about anything. Just— I mean… would it really be that big of a deal if we did? Fuck, I mean.”

You respond with blinks. And then you realize exactly what Tashi had just said. 

“No. It wouldn’t be, I don’t think so.”

“I don’t think so, either.” 

And so, it isn’t. It’s not a big deal when you’re both sitting there in silence. It’s not a big deal when she moves forward to kiss you, your back hitting the roughness of the carpeted floor. 

However, once her dick – albeit fake – is buried in you, you begin to think that this might be larger than the two of you anticipated. 

Can you even be bothered to care when she’s fucking you this good, though? 

In fact, it doesn’t even concern you that she’s recording the entire thing on her old flip phone. 

“Who’s got you this wet, huh?”

You should have known she was gonna say some snarky shit like this, but a pathetic whine slips past your swollen lips nevertheless, Tashi’s own curling into a cruel grin. 

“You. Only you, Tash, promise!”

She hums in response, her strap (that you didn’t even know she had until she dug it out of her closet) forcing a plethora of mewls out of you. 

“Yeah? Not even Art? Or Patrick?” You swiftly shake your head no— the action contradicting how you let out an exceptionally lewd moan at the mention of the two boys.

Tashi snickers. She knows that they’ll probably replay that part a couple hundred times. 

“Uh-huh. You’re mine now, right, baby?” 

You mindlessly nod in agreement, barely even processing what she had said. 

“Yeah, you are. Smile for the camera, say hi to ‘em.” You know exactly who Tashi’s referring to.

And still, for some reason, you do as she says. You look at the phone in her hand, and fucking wave. 

[pandorapanther]

Comedy and Tragedy Prologue

A DCA AU where Sun and Moon used to be from a theater. Loosely based on the clip from the next tales of the Pizzaplex book. I haven't written a story in like 10 years so please be patient with me as I relearn and don't be afraid to leave honest critique to help me improve. Now posted on AO3 as well. Comedy And Tragedy -------------------------------------------------------------------------

-Prologue-

It’s time to set the stage.

Sun and Moon, dark and light, good and evil. There can never be one without the other, always at odds, clashing, fighting for the spotlight. A cruel concept when applied to two minds within one being. A cruel concept made by a cruel coder who didn’t think about the effects this Jekyll and Hyde-esque design would have on a mind, though made of code, still prone to stress and breaking. We were built on this concept. A sunny hero, a symbol of happiness, hope, and all things good. A moonlight villain, a symbol of darkness, despair, and all things evil. Always at odds pushing and pulling but never winning. Two minds sharing one body, always in need of each other despite what the other stands for. This was our curse.

The coder wanted their performance realistic enough that even the Sun and the Moon would believe in their part portraying it on and off the stage. In the effort for realism they failed to give an off switch to the moon, furthering the duo’s curse. The sun would always need to be surrounded by light, the villain’s voice lurking in the back of his mind, tormenting him, begging to be freed into the darkness. The sun, determined to be a hero, would of course resist, always faced with the waking world and his brother's voice trying to pull him down into the darkness. He faced all the stress that would happen in the world. Bad reviews would fall to him, angry staff would direct their annoyance at him, anything the moon broke would be up to him to fix. He held the responsibility for the actions of two. That's a lot to put on one mind. Yet despite the burden he would continue and put on a grin every time he was on stage. 

On the stage the sun would always play the hero of the story, always under the spotlight for everyone to see and cheer. The moon slips out only when the spotlight goes dark. He lurks in the shadows waiting to strike. A strike that will never happen thanks to a barrier of light that shines around the stage keeping the villain in his place, though he desperately tries to escape. The two would play their roles well, their code made for the drama of the story they are forced to believe in. The audience always in awe cheers the sun on while booing the moon adding to his hate and rage. They act well though more boils under the surface in their code hidden from the audience.

This all happened in a past life of course. Though the show did well the theater was dying, overshadowed by the new pizzaplex built nearby. Everyone beelined for the large pizza scented entertainment center, eager for the excitement that lay inside. The poor little theater didn’t stand a chance and was closed within a few months of the Pizzaplex’s opening. In an effort to pay off its debts, the little theater sold everything. The costumes, the props, and most prized of all the hero of every story, Sun. They, of course, covered up Sun’s dual nature viewing it as a detriment to the potential money they may get. The theater offered the Sun animatronic to the local Pizzaplex as a fast way to earn the money. The Plex quickly accepted the offer, it was cheaper than making a new animatronic and they needed a Daycare attendant. It seemed to benefit both parties.

The coders at the Pizzaplex quickly took their new attendant down to parts and service. They filled up his code with all he would need to take care of children, burying the existing code. It didn’t take them long before discovering the Moon’s code. Unaware of the villain’s nature they covered the theatrical programming with the daycare programming. They, at first, left the night time switch in figuring that it would make for the perfect nap time attendant. Then they sent their new attendant to the daycare unaware how important a single switch might be.

[forgotten-contract]

Voidtouched-blue--[Prior]

"How many more times am I going to have to do this?" She sighed. Cyra had seated herself on the stool that rested near the sink. Hands gripped the porcelain rim of the basin with her head leaned up on it. Her ears had been slicked back with the pinned mess of her hair at the base of her neck. The shaking muscles of her back were nothing more than a response to the pain that burned through her skin. "At least once more...That's a silly question." It was with that admission that she stuffed some of that damp towel in her mouth to brace herself for having to treat the rest of those ragged wounds.

Due to that false avian, Silvaire was well aware of her arrival before the young Keeper had made it to the door to pause and brace herself to it, even as she wandered into the house itself with the same energy as the dead she’d buried, the man made no motion to make himself known.

Her aether was weak. A shell of what it had been when he had last been cognizant enough to notice - all paired with the ample scent of blood. It made his bones shiver.

Quite obviously she needed the time for herself to get situated with whatever difficulties she was facing from the time spent alone in a self-made graveyard, so he continued about his tasks as needed. Small things with the idle memories of recipies - which where then soon enough ignored in favor of a simpler ‘cut everything into pieces and let her make her own meal out of whatever is here’ - the dishes of course cleaned as soon as things were ready;

It would be poor of him to leave a mess.

Silent as the ghost he was, the guest resumed an idle wandering, his curiosity of what now lay in her bag getting the better of him with a quick glance - a tut of air against his teeth at the sight of how much of the liquor she’d once again ingested, though, this just brought those idle worries of her functionality looming from the depths of that locked coffin, ones that were stamped down with a breath as control reigned.

It didn’t matter right now - though as the sound of running water met the silence, it did dawn to matter a little at the notion of if she could keep her head above water; though the sound was short and the thought abided.

That brash swear of pain made Silvaire startle to attention with the genuine nature of the pain lashing away the claws of the dark, unable to keep the pulse of something from his motion as he walked over towards the bathroom where more expletives came in mumbled complaints on rumbled speech.

With the door slightly ajar as it was (Obviously having forgotten about him in her haze) It was with an unintentional stare that the man caught sight of the bare of her back as her shirt had been tied in an untraditional manner for ease of the salves that painted beautiful wounds; hidden golds sliding across the arrows of her stripes as they led the eye - just as quickly catching himself and turning away with a knock to the wood as he always did, his posture just as swift to return to that natural habit.

Her blood was staunched yet still the beast could feel his nerves tighten at the fact he was so close, the taste so familiar; the leash of that warmth seemed to shift his priorities however. Command over Desire.

Even with such limited Aether it seemed she’d tainted him far more than he’d thought. How pathetic to feel such-

“Sorry, are you alright?” It was a gentle tone, and for a moment his mind swam with the memories of their time on the couch, shoved aside with a soft hum as he kept his gaze down in case she was uncomfortable with such a thing. “I suppose you’ve got it under control though, such a thing being your area of study.”

It was an attempt at some levity to the moment as he was sure he’d startled her from her thoughts, and even a beast as he knew questioning them would be… actually… expected. He wasn’t supposed to know where they’d come from. It would be strange to leave such a thing untouched.

“Did… Did something happen?”

[clareguilty]

A Tainted Rescue Part 2

hello! i cannot escape my own terrible ideas! Have more Heisenberg porn! Karl Heisenberg/Maiden Rating: Explicit | WARNING: dark content, explicit smut, big sexy evil guy doing bad things Word Count: ~2500

Lord Heisenberg lifted the maiden into his carriage and pulled her onto his lap as the mechanical horse took off away from the castle. She shook and cried in his arms, whimpering with every rattle of the wheels on the unpaved path to the Lord's domain.

"You're safe now," he promised her. "I'm going to take good care of you."

She clung to him, face buried in his chest as he ran his hand up and down her back in a slow, steady rhythm. Her breathing began to even out and her sobs turned to sporadic hiccups the farther they traveled from that horrid castle.

Lord Heisenberg was extremely proud of himself. He had managed to pull one over on Alcina all while getting a delightful new toy to play with. She was so precious, so perfect. He would have to make sure to spoil her rotten.

Just outside of the factory grounds, covered in overgrown plants, a small stone staircase led up to Lord Heisenberg’s house. He helped the maiden up the worn steps, holding branches out of the way as they ducked through the overgrowth. 

“I never actually use this place,” he explained. “I spend most of my time in the factory. But that’s no place for you. Now I finally have someone to come home to.” He kissed her knuckles as he led her across the threshold.

The lights were electric, and they turned on at a wave of the Lord’s hand. He chuckled at the maiden's awestruck expression.

The house was a mess, dusty and cluttered. It must have been months since the Lord actually stayed there. Narrow and tucked into the hillside, the two story was smaller than Lady Beneviento’s villa but still larger than almost any of the houses of the village. 

“Heh,” he laughed wryly. “Looks like this place needs a lot of work.”

He led the maiden up the stairs and to the main chamber. The room was sparsely furnished with just a low double bed, a wardrobe, and a writing desk piled high with books and papers and the same scrap metal that seemed to appear throughout the Lord’s domain. It was nothing like the opulent and immaculate rooms of the castle.

The maiden let Lord Heisenberg push her to a seat on the bed. He knelt in front of her, squeezing her jaw in one hand and forcing her to look him in the eyes. 

“I may not be as fucked as my witch of a sister, but let me make one thing clear. I am not above killing you. You will stay out of my factory. Understand?”

The maiden whimpered, tears once again threatening to spill over her cheeks. “Yes, My Lord.”

He released her jaw and patted her cheek lightly. “Good girl.” He shucked off his coat and draped it over the back of the desk chair. His hat and glasses were quick to follow. He sat beside her on the bed and unlaced his boots.

The maiden removed her own shoes -- the only things she wore that were intact. Her stockings were shredded, as were her skirts. She didn’t even have any drawers on anymore. The front of her dress was ripped down to her stomach, and she tugged the fabric over her shoulders and out from under her until it fell in a puddle on the floor. She was naked and bruised and marked. She felt filthy, used, ruined. But that was what the Lord said was needed to save her. If he hadn’t done what he had, she would be dead at the hands of the Mistress.

The Lord must have seen her numbness, her distress, because he pulled her into his chest and smoothed a hand over her hair. “Hey now,” he whispered. “She can’t touch you here. I’d like to see her try.” He sounded as if he would welcome the fight. “Let me make you feel good.”

He laid the maiden on her back and nudged her thighs apart so he could kneel between her legs. The sight of the damage he had done at the castle brought a smile to his face, and he pressed his fingers into the bruises that were blooming across her thighs.

With no preamble, he pressed two fingers inside of her, crooking them and stretching her open. The maiden whined and gripped the linens with white knuckles. The Lord was only spurred on by her reaction and added a third finger. He loved the way she tightened around him, and longed to feel it on his cock again.

Despite her inexperience, it was no time at all before she was dripping just from the motions of his fingers. He made sure to bring her right to the brink of pleasure, holding her just on that precipice as he pulled his cock from his pants and lined himself up.

He pressed into her slowly, lifting her hips to meet his and bracing himself over her on the bed. She was trapped beneath him, nearly bent in half as his cock split her open once more. It felt even deeper than before, and she couldn’t hold back her high, breathy whines as he began to move. He moaned as he drove his cock into her harder and harder on each stroke.

“You feel amazing. So soft. So tight. You’re all mine. Just for me.”

“All yours,” the maiden repeated. “Just for you.”

“Oh, you’re so perfect,” he groaned. “She didn’t deserve you. She could never have made you feel like this. Come for me. Come on my cock.”

He reached between them to rub her clit, determined to watch her eyes flutter shut and the moans that tumbled from her lips as she came undone around him.

And it was spectacular. She was so precious. To think she had never known pleasure like this before. He was going to be everything for her. Her saviour. Her king.

She clung to him as she came, shuddering and gasping as he forced her through the blinding orgasm. He continued to fuck her, determined to find his own end as well, but he noticed she was barely responsive. Poor thing, probably passed out from the pleasure.

The Lord didn’t let that stop him as he buried himself inside of her to the hilt. He loved watching his cock sink into her, splitting her open and twitching inside of her. He came to the sight of it, filling her as deeply as possible and rocking his hips as she tightened around him once more. Even unconscious, he was able to make her feel good.

Finally satisfied with his claim, he pulled out and arranged the maiden to lay beside him. “You need your rest. Tomorrow I’ll figure out what to do with you.”

-

Life with Lord Heisenberg was nothing like serving at Castle Dimitrescu. The Lord was crass and informal, just as quick tempered as his ‘sister’ but never directed at the maiden.

No. The maiden was given special privileges. She was his prized possession, swiped right out from under Alcina’s claws, and he loved to spoil her and dote on her.

He had never had a pet like her before. All of his own creations and gifts from Mother Miranda were mindless and bloodthirsty and horrific. But the maiden, she was beautiful and sweet. She was so devoted to him, her savior. He had freed her, given her everything, and now she lived to serve him.

Her new life was one of endless pleasure and indulgence. The Lord fucked her and filled her and marked her as his own. He loved to ruin her, to claim her. She was so precious, trapped in that castle and hidden away from the world. He wanted to show her every filthy experience she had missed.

She fit so perfectly around his cock, so warm and tight and responsive. He enjoyed her moans and gasps of pleasure just as much as he enjoyed finishing inside her.

He didn’t know he was capable of such softness. He was rough when he fucked her, sure to bite her and mark her. Bruising handprints blooming over her skin after he took her to bed. But he was also gentle with her at times. Praise and thanks and kisses to her hairline. There was a different kind of satisfaction to seeing her smile.

-

The maiden bowed her head as she offered Lord Heisenberg a glass of whiskey late one evening. He had been away at the factory for much of the previous days occupied by his work. The drink was a warm welcome. “Thank you, buttercup,” he pulled her into his lap. “I have something for you.”

He took a gulp from the glass before setting it aside and fishing around in his pockets.

“Aha! Here!” He procured two thick shining bands in his palms. They looked small in his grasp but were still a few inches in diameter.

The Lord grabbed the maiden’s hands. The metal rings levitated before closing around her wrists, fastening as though they were soldered together.

“They’re beautiful,” she breathed, twisting her wrists this way and that to admire the jewelry. “Thank you, My Lord.”

“Now everyone will know who you belong to,” he trailed kisses from her temple to her jaw.

The maiden giggled. “I don’t think there was any doubt of that before.” She was constantly covered in his marks, in his come. He loved to claim her as his in every possible way.

He would fill her until his seed was dripping down her thighs, smeared over her chest and her lips. Make her come until the only thing she knew was his name. He had found all her limits and he knew just how to push past them.

And now he had his steel on her.

She nuzzled against his chest, overwhelmed by the gift. No one at that wretched castle had ever shown her such kindness. Her lips peppered the skin where his shirt was unbuttoned, hands wandering over his chest and arms. She was still so uncertain about her desires. Alcina had certainly done a good job of brainwashing her.

But he had his own conditioning to do. So he whispered encouragement as she slipped between his knees and unfastened his belt. She was flushed and uncoordinated as she pulled his cock free from his pants. “Thank you,” she whispered again before wrapping her lips around him.

She was a good cocksucker, an eager learner and quick to respond to him. She had very quickly grown addicted to him, and he lived for it. Every time he would return from the depths of the factory, she was there craving his attention and his touch.

Now she was even more desperate. He had neglected her in favor of his work, and he regretted it when he saw how uncertain she had become. He would have to train her to handle his long absences. He certainly couldn’t trust anyone to watch over her while he was gone. She was too precious, they would corrupt her. Still, he enjoyed how she couldn’t seem to get enough of him, how dependent she was.

Lord Heisenberg relaxed and sipped his whiskey as she stroked and sucked his cock. He felt so powerful with the maiden on her knees before him. It made him crave more.

After several minutes, when his cock was shining from her lips and she was glassy eyed with lust between his knees, he cradled her head in one of his hands and pulled her onto his cock as deep as she could go. She submitted willingly, moaning at the way his fingers dug into her scalp.

He fucked her face, rough and deep, admiring the way tears spilled over her cheeks and spit dripped down her chin. Her obedience only turned him on more, and he came with a groan, pulling out before he could spill everything down her throat.

She was a filthy mess, come and spit smeared over her swollen lips. She cleaned his cock and blinked up at him expectantly.

“That’s a good girl.” He smiled as she melted at his words. One of her own hands had slipped beneath her skirts and she rocked down against it with a breathy moan. “Needy little thing, aren’t you? Can you wait for me? I promise I’ll give you a treat soon.”

The maiden immediately did as she was told, pulling her slick fingertips from beneath her dress.

“What do you say we wash up and call it a night?” He pulled her to her feet, leading her upstairs to the washroom.

The maiden had been delighted to find that the enormous bath upstairs -- though still smaller that Mistress Dimitrescu’s -- had taps that would run the water directly into the tub. A device of the Lord’s own creation heated the water along the way so that it steamed as it splashed into the porcelain basin. The maiden undressed the Lord with enthusiastic reverence, running her hands over his skin as she pulled his shirt from his broad shoulders. He slipped into the steaming water and sighed.

The maiden slipped out of her own clothes and climbed in as well. She lathered soap in her hands and set to work washing them both, massaging the tension from his muscles with her skilled fingers. What more could he possibly ask for?

He could tell how needy she was as she rinsed them clean. Her breaths were quick and short, skin flushed all the way down her chest and up to her ears. If they hadn’t already been in the water he was sure she would be dripping with arousal.

The Lord was tempted to try out his his new trick, but he wanted to wait for the perfect time. So instead he teased the poor girl with his fingers. She slumped against him, begging and pleading as he gave her everything just shy of what she needed.

He pulled her from the tub, drying both of them just enough before dragging her to bed. Laying back and pulling her on top of him, he grabbed her hips and ground her pussy against his length. 

“Please,” she gasped. She looked so cute, begging for his cock. He lined himself up and pulled her all the way down until her hips met his. The shock of being filled so suddenly, stretched around him, made her scream.

He lifted her easily, using her like a doll for his pleasure. She slumped forward over his chest as he moved her hips however he liked. Her broken gasps and moans of pleasure were like music to his ears. He wanted to break her, to see her totally undone by his hand.

She came around his cock twice before he finally pulled her all the way onto him and pumped her full. Even though his body was exhausted from his orgasm, he wasn’t yet sated. Some strange desire still pulled at him. He had already gifted her with the bracelets he had yet to use, but maybe there were other toys to be made in his workshop.

She would be perfect for him.

[foli-vora]

more than words, pt.3

A/N: Thank you for all the love! 🥺🥰 overwhelmed by the reaction I’ve had to this story! Super excited that so many of you are coming along for the ride! There is a tag list for this—let me know if you’d like to be added! (I apologise if I’ve missed anyone!) I hope you enjoy! ❤️

Pairing: Francisco ‘Catfish’ Morales x f!reader, best friend!Benny Miller x f!reader

Word count: 3.3k

Warnings: swearing, alcohol, general first date nerves that trigger my anxiety x10

pt.1 / pt.2 / pt.4 / pt.5 / pt.6

+

He was trying to listen. He really was, but God, how many times can you hear the same thing over and over and over again before you start to drift away from the conversation? He knew the answer. He had a very short attention span when it came to certain subjects – he’ll admit that freely – so when you continued to gush about his best friend, his main man, naturally his attention fell to the couple seemingly having an argument by their truck in the parking lot. Hmm… wonder what they’re fighting about? He purses his lips, watching the girl deliver one hell of a slap across her boyfriend’s face and strut away, tears streaking mascara down her face. Cheater. Definitely a cheater.

“Benny? Are you even listening to me?”

His eyes roll back to you, taking in your narrowed eyes and angry chewing as a slice of pizza dangles from your hand. Was he listening? Well, he did for the first few minutes… does that still count?

He finally answers, tone flat and uninterested. “No.”

“Ben.”

He shrugs, gesturing to the scene outside the window with a flick of his head. “Malibu barbie just smacked the shit out of her beau.”

Your head snaps to where he was looking, shamelessly curious. “Cheater?”

“That’s my bet.”

You both fall quiet, watching the strangers play out a scene that really should belong in a cringe-worthy daytime reality show while you chew. It’s almost depressing, how eagerly you both watch someone else’s life seemingly crumble in public. But the longer they scream and cry, the longer they yell and fight, the harder it is to tear your eyes away.

“Shit.” Benny sighs, reclining in the booth and stretching his arms up and behind him once the couple in conflict goes their separate ways. “That was the most interesting thing that happened to me all week.”

“Not me,” you sing with a smile, fondly remembering the phone calls and texts you had been sharing with Frankie the past few days. Benny sighs in irritation, neck cracking as he rolls his head on his shoulders.

“I swear, if you talk any more about Fish, I’m gonna throw myself out of this fuckin’ window.” He levels you with a challenging stare, lips twitching as you eye the glass critically. “I’ll do it, too. Try me.”

Deflating, you sag in your seat and fiddle with the peeling label on your beer bottle, realising with a wave of slight shame that you had been talking about Frankie ever since you sat down at the table. “I’m sorry, Benny. I’m just excited. He seems really cool, and nice, and –”

“Alright then.” He stands abruptly, kneeling on the worn leather to brace a shoulder against the glass panel with a look of severe concentration.

“Okay! I’m sorry, I’m sorry – sit down, you idiot!” Laughing loudly, you tug at his shirt until he sits with a lazy grin and you shake your head. “God, you are such a child, Benjamin.”

He snorts, pinching a cold fry from the basket in the middle of the table and waving it at you. “You love me.”

Grinning, you snatch it from his fingers, and chew it loudly, grinning at his pout. “I sure do, especially when you set me up with your gorgeous fri–”

He groans loudly, “Enough, woman. I’ll throw you out of this fuckin’ window in a minute. Get me another beer.”

-

“You’re callin’ the wrong friend, angel.” Benny drawls lazily, “I’m no good with these kinds of pep talks.”

“Benny, I’m freaking out, please –”

The car feels small, cramped. The open windows letting in the cool evening air does nothing for you trying to suck in a lungful of oxygen as you pull nervously at your jacket. Have you overdressed? Underdressed? What would he be wearing? You hadn’t been on a first date in months.

“Look, I can almost guarantee you he’s somewhere having this exact conversation with another friend of mine. You’re both stress heads. Just relax – he’s gonna love you.”

You stare vacantly at your steering wheel, swallowing around the lump of anxiety stuck in your throat. “I think I’m gonna puke.”

He snorts in amusement, “Well, if you’re gonna do it, do it now – puking on the poor guy isn’t a first date thing. And don’t forget to rinse your mouth out.”

Leave it to the younger Miller to make you feel ten times worse. “Oh God. Ben –”

“You’ll be fine. Now get out of your car.”

“But –”

“Get. Out. of your car.” He waits, listening intently to the mechanical whirr of your windows as they close, smiling when he hears the loud thump of your car door shutting. “There we go. Now breathe, and get marchin’ – you got this. And don’t call me again – I’m watching a fight. Pay per view isn’t cheap.”

“Right. Sorry. Thanks Benny.”

“Anytime, angel. Have fun.”

You ring your hands as you start walking the short distance to the bar, running through a last-minute check of your appearance. Nothing in your teeth. No stains on your clothes. You fidget with the hem of your skirt, brushing the non-existent dirt from the fabric and making sure it’s not horrifically tucked in to your underwear at the back.

Oh God, your palms are so sweaty. What if he shakes your hand? His hand will slide right off. He’d be mortified. Who even goes for a handshake on a first date anyways? You’re being silly. Everything’s fine. You look great. Did you put deodorant on?

The twisting of your stomach and panicked rush of thoughts thankfully pause when your eyes catch Frankie standing outside the bar, hands buried deep in his pockets and dark eyes flickering around at the passers-by somewhat nervously. When they land on you, the apprehension seems to melt from his shoulders and he grins. Unable to stop the smile creeping on your face in response, you now walk without the sick feeling of anxiety creeping up your throat.

He strides forward to greet you, and for a brief second, you wonder how you should greet him. It’s not like you were strangers, per se, you had been talking on the phone all week, but where did you stand in the physical sense? Certainly not a handshake.

Throwing caution to the wind, you bounce forward and greet him with a hug, hoping to high heaven he doesn’t push you away and call the whole thing off.

He doesn’t.

Inwardly screaming, you melt at the feeling of a pair of strong arms winding around your waist, a small quiet chuckle brushing past your ear. Oh shit, oh fuck… he smells divine.

“Hi,” you mutter shyly when you pull away, a flush of warmth flooding through you from top to toe when he smiles kindly and hovers only a step away.

“Hi,”

You can’t help but admire his features up close; the ones that were lost on the photo Ben had shown you when first trying to convince you into this arrangement. His eyes were a lot darker, tousled curls longer than they had looked when they were hidden under a well-loved hat. A light flush of pink sweeps up his neck and along his cheeks, and you watch it fondly with a wild flutter of your heart.

Okay, you could just stand here all night and stare at him, but that might freak him out a little… maybe try speaking. Talk. Just talk. Say something smart – something stimulating. First date impressions and all that.

“It’s fucking freezing.”

What? No. You did not just say that. Seriously? That’s what had to bubble from your mouth? Are you kidding?

You want to face palm, want to just turn around and march right back to your car with a text to Benny saying ‘thanks, but we can’t be friends anymore’ and just disappear from the face of the Earth. God, he’s going to give you so much shit for this.

Thankfully though, Frankie doesn’t seem bothered by your blurted out statement in the slightest, and even grins, nodding in agreement.

“Yeah, it is.” He watches you shift on your feet, smile widening just a little more at the look of complete horror that had just washed your features before he had spoken, and then half turns, “Shall we?” Oh God, what was that? Pope’s gonna kill him. You’ve got his head in a complete spin and now he’s forgotten Pope’s whole pep talk. Shit. Shit. Be cool. Be cool... what the fuck does ‘be cool’ even mean?

The bar’s warm when you both walk in side by side, Frankie’s hand placed softly on your lower back as he leads you to the bar, and then through to a spare table, nestled out of the way and tucked into the farthest corner after he buys your drinks. He lets you sit first, and you’re pleasantly surprised when he stays close and, instead of sitting opposite you, he sits to your right, knees bumping yours softly under the table.

It’s not until you both sit, quiet and fiddling with your beers while sharing nervous smiles, that you remember something you had been meaning to ask all day.

“Oh. How did Mena’s appointment go?” You ask immediately, recalling his slight worry the day before over her slightly warmer than normal forehead and uncharacteristic crankiness. Your stomach plummets when he shoots you a startled look.

Oh no… have you blown it? Were you not meant to ask about kids on the first date or something? What were the rules for this kind of thing? You’d never dated someone with a baby, you had no idea what was okay to ask and what wasn’t. You guys had literally only just sat down, and here you were, ruining it already. That’s got to be the quickest end to a date, well… ever.

Panic creases your features and you frown in worry, “Sorry, should I – should I not have said anything? I’m sorry, I’ve never –”

“No, no – you’re fine! I just… I didn’t expect you to remember.” And then he smiles. Blindingly. The dread crushing your chest quickly morphs into something sweeter, something that has your heart quickening. “She’s okay – she’s getting her molars. Thank you for asking.”

You smile, turning bashful under the pure admiration shining in his eyes, and shrug lightly.

“It’s alright. I was worried for you.” You’re quiet when you admit it, unsure if that’s something you should be upfront about with only knowing him for such a short period, but he seems to take it in stride, smiling fondly at you and reaching a hand to cover yours softly. The immediate heat from his skin encompasses yours, shooting wave after wave of electric tingles up your arm and straight to your chest.

If your pulse was racing before, it’s downright wild now.

He flushes when your fingers part ever so slightly, letting his nestle in between yours, and then you’re smiling at each other, laughing quietly as the awkwardness all but evaporates.

You talk about everything. Growing up, moving around, Frankie’s time in the military being a pilot. You have so many questions, but pick up on the wave of tension that rolls through him at the mention of flying. For a short moment, you wonder why he didn’t want to talk about such an achievement – being a pilot was incredible, but not wanting to ruin the easy-going atmosphere that had fallen over you both, you leave the topic of flying instantly, and switch for talking about Mena, thankful to see the light return immediately to his eyes as he gushes about his little girl.

“Can I ask a question?” You ask sometime later in the evening, now comfortably closer to Frankie as your legs tangle under the table.

He hums, sipping on his third beer and nodding, “Of course.”

You watch your fingers play with his on the table, before grinning up at him slyly, “Why ‘Catfish’?”

He groans, throwing his head back with a chuckle, and wipes a hand across his face.

“My whiskers.” He finally admits with a playfully defeated sigh. When you frown in confusion, his grin widens, and he scratches his fingers along his jaw and through the patch of facial hair. “The guys used to give me shit because I can’t grow much more than this.” He gestures to his face, rolling his eyes. “Used to say I had whiskers – like a catfish, apparently.” He chuckles, shrugging light heartedly. “It just seemed to stick after a while.”

You’re laughing, and it keeps the smile planted firmly on his face. What a sound.

“Well, it’s an interesting nickname, but I think I prefer Frankie.”

He softens, unable to resist melting closer to you, and nods, “Me too.”

He likes the way you say it… sweetly, softly. He’s desperate to hear it fall from your lips more, in all sorts of ways.

Disappointment floods you both when you notice the late hour, Frankie explaining dejectedly that he should probably go and relieve his babysitter before said babysitter gets too comfortable with his refrigerator and the beer in there. You can hear the fondness in his voice when he tells you about his sitter for the evening, Mena’s tío – another close friend of Benny’s apparently – as you leave the bar, his hand automatically falling to tangle with yours.

“I’m this way,” you point a thumb over your shoulder, fully expecting to say your goodbyes outside the brightly lit bar, but frowning in slight confusion when he merely nods and starts to walk the way to your car.

“Oh – are you parked over here, too?”

He shakes his head, pointing to the complete opposite direction. “No, I’m over there. I don’t want you to walk to your car alone.”

Your insides turn to jelly, smiling to yourself as you grip his hand a little tighter. Thoughtful. He returns your smile, but hates that you seem so surprised by the notion of being walked to your car in the dark. What kind of losers had you dated previously that either didn’t walk you safely to your car?

“Thank you for tonight, Frankie.”

He grins, thumb rubbing soft circles over your knuckles. “Thank you – I had a great time.”

“Next time, it’s my treat.” You say, hoping you weren’t thinking too much of something that wasn’t there. Would he even want a second date? Was he just being polite saying he had a good time? Is that what people said before never calling them again?

Unbeknownst to you, Frankie was having a hard time reigning in the enthusiastic excitement that had flooded through him the second you had spoken. You wanted another date? With him? He had to mash his teeth together to stop the eager grin threatening to break his face completely in half. Thank God he hadn’t blown it. You were… God. You were fucking incredible. He owed Benny – big time.

“I can deal with that,” he eventually agrees, face warm and giddy at the prospect of taking you out again.

You turn and envelope him in a hug when you reach your car, breathing in one final lungful of whatever delicious aftershave he had used, and smile to yourself against his shirt when he folds his arms around you, a hand cupping the back of your head to keep you pressed tightly against him.

Pulling back to say one final goodbye, you’re struck by how close his face seems, eyes flicking across his face before meeting his dark ones.

Suddenly trapped in a gaze that had a fire licking up your spine, your breath goes in a stuttered exhale. Rough fingertips trace your jaw, and then you’re holding your breath entirely as he leans in closer. Anticipation kicks in, heart thumping through your chest as he closes the distance much slower than you would like, and you fight away the wave of impatience that screams at you to just push forward and kiss him.

You don’t expect him to stop however, only a breath away from your lips, and you panic for a small second, wondering if you’re doing something wrong, but when he murmurs a quiet question, it takes all the strength in your legs to not fall to the fucking ground in a lump of melted goo.

“Can I kiss you?”

God yes. Please.

Unable to stop the shy smile that tugs at your lips, you try not to nod too eagerly and definitely fail miserably. You want this, more than what you’ve ever felt with anyone else. Frankie had you feeling like a giddy teenager with a huge crush and you were desperate to feel more of it, to see where it goes and what it could develop into.

At your nod of approval, he moves in the rest of the way, hand moving to cup the side of your neck below your ear, and he sighs lightly when your soft lips finally meet his. The kiss is tender, warm, and does nothing to soothe your raging pulse. He can’t hear your heartbeat, can he? God, can you hear his? He briefly worries, but when your lips move against his, his mind blanks.

His moustache tickles your lip, nose bumps gently with yours. Your hands find his chest, fingers gripping at the soft material, and for a moment it feels like you two are the only ones in existence, floating in a hazy whirl of space.

You take a minute to open your eyes when he eventually pulls away, and when you do, you find him gazing at you with a shy smile and a rosy flush across his cheeks. Lashes fluttering as you blink, you try to get a hold of your heart beating heavily against your ribs while your lips tingle from the aftershocks of his kiss.

Holy shit.

Before you can even think it through, his shirt tangles in your scrunched fist and you pull him back to you, replanting your lips against his with a desperate urgency he meets head on and returns eagerly. His hands, previously gentle, now grip at your waist, squeezing the flesh greedily as you let him walk you back into the side of your car. The metal is cold, even through your jacket, and you arch into him, moaning softly when his tongue traces your lip.

Your knees buckle when his tongue tangles with yours, and he presses you harder into the car to stop you dropping.

“Holy shit.” He breathes huskily after separating, lips widening into a grin when he sees you mirroring his breathlessness. You giggle softly, the fire roaring in your stomach turning into an affectionate warmth that floods your system when he brushes his nose along yours tenderly. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Stop.” Your smile turns shy, teeth digging into your lips as he chuckles again, dark eyes shining. He watches you wrangle your breathing into something semi normal, glad he wasn’t the only one that got swept up and carried away with the moment. 

He traces your cheek, planting one more, less hungry and more affectionate, kiss to your lips.

“Goodnight, mystery girl.”

“Goodnight, Frankie.”

He backs away, face split as he smiles, eyes admiring you before he turns and starts to meander away to wherever he was parked, turning to look at you over his shoulder every few steps. You climb into your car, grinning at the final wave he sends you before disappearing around the corner.

Finally alone in your car, you let out the disbelieving chuckle you’ve been keeping in all night, face feeling hot as the aftereffects of such a great date rests pleasantly in your stomach, mind running through every little moment of the night. Starting your car, you start the drive home, unable to stop touching your lips every so often, insides clenching at the memory of his lips moving against yours.

+

Tags: @anu-simps @seasonschange-butpeopledont @withasideofmeg @you-got-me-starry-eyed @emilykjh @peterhollandkait @sara-alonso @starlightsearches @bookishofalder @empress-palpat1ne @shadowolf993 @rosiefridayrogersunday @canyonmirrors​ @eoz-stuff @blackonemasie​ @layniapetrovnaaa @alberta-sunrise @goldielocks2004 @betterthanbucky​ @linkpk88​ @afootnoteofhappiness​ @livilottie​

[char-lotteral]

Ticket Booth

Great. Just what she needed.

Amity being stood up on her blind date.

Again.

"This is just ridiculous." She sighs to herself, impatiently alternating between checking her phone and the watch on her wrist just to avoid human confrontation from any passersby on the street.

I mean, is she surprised? Not really. Did she hope it would turn out different? Kinda

Not like this was the first time Ed and Em had set her up on another blind date. You should head out more! Meet new people, get a change of environment!

New people, my ass. If ever she gets a chance to meet these said new people, that is.

Amity checks her phone again with a big bright 8:10 PM, humiliating her at every passing second. Tick, tick, tick. There's that sound of that unnecessarily large wall clock hung in front of the movie theaters, more people arriving in front of the ticket booth, hands interlaced and smiles all warm and happy, and goddammit; her date was supposed to be here 10 minutes ago!

The wind's gotten colder, the theaters getting overcrowded, her feet hurt from standing too much, and in attempt to hide herself from the sad, despicable, cynical reality of it all, she huddles herself inside her massive winter cloak, tendrils of bubblegum hair sticking out from the side of her hoodie.

Why God, why did she agree to go to this?!

"Are you waiting for someone?"

Snapping out of her thoughts, Amity whips her attention towards the (cute) lady behind the ticket booth. Not one for initiating conversations, she coughs to suppress her shyness and answers, "Uh y-yeah. I have a um, a date. I'm waiting for them."

The lady behind the ticket booth smiles this really cute smile of hers and suddenly Amity has forgotten her name altogether. "You know, I don't wanna sound rude or anything, but the movie starts at exactly 8:15. And I don't think you'll be able to see it if you're gonna be out here, freezing in the cold."

She laughs tucking a hair behind her ear. "Yeah well, this isn't my first time being stood up so I guess I'm used to it at this point."

"Wait, you're being stood up?"

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Now she thinks you're some hopeless romantic.

Shaking her head frantically, she manages to salvage herself from this stranger that she has a sudden urge to impress all of a sudden. "W-What? No! I meant my date was um busy and they texted me too late, so I guess I am kinda freezing my ass off outside the movie theater. But not because I was waiting for them the entire evening! I-I have better things to do than um..."

Being stood up by my blind date who hasn't even met me! Crap, maybe I am the problem?

"Better things to do like stand outside in the freezing cold?"

Her eyes dart towards the ticket lady who no doubt is feeling sympathetic for her pathetic ass and as she does, there's still that smile of hers etched on her face, looking down at her with some sympathy but she doesn't mind, she likes how she's looking at her. Had she already mentioned she thought she was cute?

"O-Or that." Amity answers pathetically, chuckling at the absurdity of it all.

"Tell you what," The lady in the booth begins. "Maybe I can refund you for the tickets? I won't tell my boss or anything, they'll be fine with it."

Ticket lady was being awfully nice to her, which was strange because most strangers usually had a fight or flight response whenever they saw Amity talking to them, probably because of her intimidating aura, which she doesn't really blame them for. This cute ticket lady on the other hand, was a whole different story.

"Oh no, my sister's already paid for the tickets online, plus I don't think these two tickets are refundable so um, I guess I'll just have to watch this movie alone or maybe sell my ticket to someone who actually has a date." She giggles again, internally sorry for her own situation.

The cute ticket lady pauses for a second, attention a bit distant and elbows perched above her desk. Amity debates with herself whether or not she should just say fuck it and watch the movies alone, at least until ticket lady finally looks up and meets her eye to eye. And woah, she never knew eyes could look that brown.

"Hey, how about I watch it with ya?"

... What?

"What?" She parrots her thoughts. I'm sorry did she hear that right?

The lady smiles even wider, eyes pinched from the apples of her cheeks and a smile so bright, it could rival the stars above them. "You heard me. I wanna watch it with you!"

"You wanna... watch it with me?"

" 'Course I would. That is, if you'll allow me? I promise I'll pay for the tickets, I'm not scamming you or something."

"Oh um, can I ask why?"

The lady laughs again, oblivious to the damage she's been doing to Amity's poor stomach. Butterflies seemed like a stupid analogy, it was like the entire zoo came in to visit. "I can't let a pretty girl walk inside that movie theater all alone. There might be some serial killers inside there."

Oh.

Well, this turned out to be the best possible scenario she could come up with.

Pretty girl? Her?

This night just keeps getting better and better.

Feeling uncharacteristically playful, she refutes back, cheeks ablaze by the little compliment. "And how do I know that you're not a serial killer, plotting to bury my body?"

Her eyes are squinting from absolute mirth, clearly not expecting her to reply back. "I can prove to you that I am not, in fact, a serial killer by politely introducing myself. "Luz Noceda. College student by day, billionaire philanthropist by night."

"By billionaire philanthropist, do you mean ticket booth manager? Because I think both are equally badass."

Luz shrugs, unfazed. "Eh, its hard living the double life. I have to keep my identity hidden so no one assassinates me in broad daylight."

Simultaneously, they both laugh at their dumb topic, and Amity has never felt this alight with another person before. Her chest feels tighter, her cheeks hurt from smiling so much and she thinks that maybe, just maybe, this night might not be as bad as she initially thought it would be.

"So, have I proven myself worthy? Can I watch it with you?" Luz is practically bouncing on her feet, tail wagging like a retriever waiting for her treat. She looks so damn adorable behind the ticket booth that Amity's heart threatens to jump out of her throat and melt right in front of her.

So what if a cute girl wants to watch a movie with you? Big deal! It's not like she's asking for your hand in marriage. It's not like it's a date or anything.

Oh God, is it a date?! Oh no, no, no. What has she gotten herself into?!

What if she says yes and embarrasses herself right in front of her? They barely even know each other! They don't know each other at all! What if this really, really cute girl doesn't actually like her and is just doing this out of pity and turns out they'll never see each other again, and, and—

"Hey, earth to bubblegum, I'm still here. In case, you forgot. I don't wanna be all rude or anything—"

"N-No!" Amity cuts her off so quickly, she's on the verge of a panic attack. "You can watch it with me! We can watch it t-together! I'd l-love to!"

Smooth move Blight, smooth move.

Her words seemed to be enough to calm Luz down and she feels like she has God to personally thank for for that beautiful smile of hers. Honestly, how can one smile like that? It's that type of smile that could brighten an entire room or the physical embodiment of joy, youth and everything else good in the world.

"Wait, but what about the ticket booth? Are you allowed to leave it alone?" Concerned, Amity asks Luz as she walks out of the booth.

"Nah, Eda won't mind. I think. I-I'll be back before she even notices I'm gone. Won't be a problem! Hopefully." Taking off her cap, Luz locks the door behind her, tucking the key safely in her pocket. She looks back at Amity, eyes gleaming from the adventure of it all. Eyes that remind her of chestnut and coffee on a cold, serene morn. And a low, pixie cut to tie it all together.

Luz hands out her palm, anticipation and adrenaline coursing through her, she's smiling that sunny smile of hers again, cheeks flushed and hair a mess from the stuffy cap and Amity thinks to herself again that wow, she really is cute.

"You ready?"

Two words, two simple words from a stranger she's never even met before. What would Ed and Em think if they saw her right now, watching movies with a random girl she doesn't even know? Her instincts are telling her to go, leave, maybe find another night to watch the movies, you can pay for the tickets another day, you barely even know this person!

But when Amity finally looks up from her hand to those chestnut eyes and that smile of pure unabashed warmth, she's made her decision.

She's positive that her cheeks are the brightest shade of red, practically glowing under the cheap porch light, but if she squints, just enough, the same shade of red are on Luz's cheeks too, flushed and cherry red, just as she was. Nervous albeit excited, just as she was.

"I thought you'd never ask."

[nelapanela94]

Warnings: Mentions of a degenerative disease, angst, fluff, character dead

LevixFem!Y/N

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

When you met Levi for the first time when he joined the Survey Corps you were certain that the stoic, ill-mannered raven-haired was going to be yours. With your joyful and caring personality, you were quite popular among your male peers; however, you only had eyes for one man.

Despite Levi’s efforts to suppress his feelings, he realized he had fallen hard for you. He would helplessly stutter when he talked with you and his gaze would unconsciously follow you whenever you were around. Your laughter would bright up a shitty day, and it irked him when another man made you laugh. Indeed, Levi wanted to confess, but was afraid to screw it up. It wasn’t a scenario he was prepared for.

He was utterly doomed.

Nonetheless, the universe conspired in his favor the day you went straight to his office, opened the door without knocking and firmly approached the ravenette who was busy with paperwork. He didn’t even have time to complain at your intrusion because his lips were already prisoners of yours. Levi was left dumbfounded, his eyes widely opened, his entire face flustered, and he was doubtless his heart was about to explode.

He instinctively cupped your face in his hands and deepened the kiss as all the tension drifted away from his shoulders. Your lips moved slowly and clumsily first, but didn’t take long to adjust to the perfect rhythm. Your heart pounded in your chest and your trembling knees were about to give up. You could not focus in anything, but on how soft his lips felt against yours. You had found a new addiction.

You finally broke the kiss and stared at each other in the eye. “What the…” Levi was still processing what just had happened.

“I wasn’t going to be left with the desire” you said between soft pants. Then an awkward silence filled the room, Levi tugged at the collar of his shirt, while you bit your lower lip. “Well...” you pursed your lips in a thin line.

“Stop b...by after dinner. I’ll make t…tea for both of us, I... got this new blend from the capital…” he stammered, his eyes darted towards the window.

“I’ll get the biscuits” you proposed while inspecting your nails.

“Great”

“Great. Uh, my squad is gathering soon… see you then” you waved your hand and left his office.

You and Levi had been together ever since then. Despite your tight working schedules, you’d always make time to see each other. You would steal kisses from him when no one was looking and leave love notes on his desk with the cheesiest messages you came up with. They were a treasure for him and kept every single one in one of his drawers. Levi, on the other hand, demonstrated his love through acts of service, like brewing tea for you, making sure you had had breakfast every morning, or having your clothes washed, folded and put away. Since words were not his forte, he showed his affection in his own way.

Everything seemed perfect until one night you abruptly woke up covered in cold sweat, your nose was bleeding too. Levi sat up and lit an oil lamp to get a better look. He alarmed when he spotted your lips, chin and hands already stained in the crimson liquid. “Are you alright?” He placed his hand on your cheek and swiped away your tears with his thumb.

“Yeah” you sniffled. “It must be just stress, I’m sorry for waking you up”

Levi planted a kiss on your forehead before getting off the bed. He came back from the bathroom with a damp cloth and cleaned the dry blood from your face and hands. He then changed the bed sheets as well as your stained night gown, and went back to bed, his hand caressing your hair until you fell asleep again.

Several days later a ticklish sensation manifested in your hands and feet, but you shrugged it off claiming it was anxiety for the upcoming expeditions. Nevertheless, the tingling feeling became more recurrent, and spread to your arms and legs. Then came the numbness that engulfed your limbs and the declined in your grip strength that hindered your performance, and put your life in great danger during one of the expeditions. Levi grew tired of your shitty excuses and forced you to go see a doctor, since Hange and Moblit couldn’t find a cause for the unusual signs.

But nothing had prepared you for the news you were about to received. According to the doctor, you suffered from a brain degenerative disease that didn’t have a cure, nor a known root cause; and the worst part: your symptoms would aggravate with time.

“He must be overreacting” you weakly smiled when you left the doctor’s office. “It can’t be that bad” you knew it was, though. Remembrances of your early childhood came back. You’d never understood why your mother was left disabled and bedridden for so long before passing away until that moment; and the doctor’s words had confirmed your greatest fear: you had inherited the same illness that had taken your mother’s life.

Little by little, you went from trembling to limping to nearly lost the mobility of your lower body. The muscle mass you had gained through the years of military training was vanishing, and the pain had become unbearable, not even the strongest medication brought relief.

Now, you were lying in bed with Levi, resting your head on his chest and having your legs intertwined with his, while he pressed soft kisses on your head.

“Levi” you muttered. “Forgive my selfishness. Sometimes I wish I was death” He scowled at your words and lifted his head. “Oi, don’t say that” His gaze saddened when he glanced at your glistening eyes.

“You know it’d be better for both of us. I won’t be in pain anymore and you won’t have to deal with this burden”

“Stop it, I don’t wanna hear it” He clenched his fist and took a deep breath to restrain his tears. “I can’t lose you, (name). I might be the selfish one, but I don’t know what I’d do without you”

You chuckled.

“What? I didn’t say anything funny”

You shook your head. “I just remembered the day I told you I wanted you to be the father of my kids. You almost choke on your tea” you giggled.

“Yeah, pretty funny...” He remarked sarcastically.

“They’ve would’ve been so cute, you know, with your hair and eyes” you sighed. “Isn’t it a cruel joke of the universe to lead me to you and not let us age together?”

“Hey...” His eyes filled with tears. “You’re talking like you’ve already given up”

“I’m just tired”

Yes. You were tired of everything. You couldn’t stand the pain, the useless medication, the pity stares. You were tired of being a burden to your friends, and mainly to Levi.

“Get some sleep, I’ll bake your favorite cookies tomorrow morning”

“That sounds good”

“They’re not as good as yours, though”

“No one can beat my recipe”

“Cocky, aren’t we?”

You chuckled. “Can we have chai tea with the cookies?”

“Chai tea will be”

You closed your eyes and the corners of your mouth lifted. Levi’s beating heart was steady and relaxing. “I love you, Levi”

“I love you too, (name)” He waited for you to fall asleep before he succumbed to slumber. His poor sleeping habits eased when you were lying by his side; you had become his shelter, the light of his eyes and the only person he had fully opened his heart to.

Levi woke up first the following morning with you peacefully asleep, your head buried in his chest and your arm wrapped around his torso. Too peacefully asleep, indeed. “(name)” he whispered, but didn’t get any response, not even a whine nor your usual 5 more minutes, please. He uncovered your upper body and carefully unwrapped your arm off of him. A hard object hidden under the covers got his attention. He found it and examined the small container.

His eyes went wide as a sharp pain pierced through his heart when he read the label.

His jaw quivered and tears streamed down his face.

His world was shattering around him.

It was the most recent medication prescribed by your doctor.

It wasn’t even a week old and it was supposed to last a month.

But the flask was already empty.

[linkspooky]

Dabi the Villain, Touya the Victim

That no.1 title you’ve always wanted is a lot of pressure, huh? Has your heart been purified with all the praise you’ve received from the public? Does your newfound vigor as a father figure to your children, make you feel like you’re developing a ‘familial bond’ with them? You seriously thought if you could keep your eyes towards the future the past would forget itself would you? It’s time for someone to give you a life lesson - (RHA SCANS). 

The past doesn’t forget. Dabi doesn’t forget. Scars may fade with time but Dabi’s won’t, they’ll only get worse and worse as he continues to burn himself using his quirk. Dabi arrives at literally the single worst time possible, to throw salt in old wounds, and stick his fingers in them for good measure. It’s clear, Dabi’s revenge is just going to make things worse for everyone, including his family, including Shoto.

However that begs the question, if not now, then when? This was always going to happen. I don’t mean ‘abusive families have to air their dirty laundry in live television’ I mean, there was always going to be some consequence to what Endeavor did to his family. Dabi is a monster, yes, but in-story he’s a monster of Endeavor’s creation. Dabi wouldn’t even exist without Endeavor’s direct actions. He’s a reflection of every bad thing Endeavor has done up until this point and everything he needs to face. The number one hero created the number one worst villain. 

1. The Shadow

Dabi is more than just a murderer, he’s also a jungian archetype. The shadow is a jungian idea that states on the whole we are not as good as we think we are. In fact, we actually might be much worse. 

The shadow is either an unconscious aspect of the personality that the conscious ego does not identify in itself; or the entirety of the unconscious, i.e., everything of which a person is not fully conscious. In short, the shadow is the unknown side.

To put it into simple terms how we perceive ourselves, what we are aware of the light, is the conscious mind. 

Everything else, everything we’re unaware of, what we’re ignoring, how we might come off to others, the unintended consequences of our actions is the shadow we cast. This isn’t something I”m making up it’s directly referenced in story. 

The approach of the villains have multiple times been compared to shadows stretching and growing deeper, this is Jungian symbolism. 

The emperor of Fallen Light, the villain that Dabi himself sent after Endeavor said word for word “His shining Light beckons the dark.” This is a story idea that’s been set up for awhile, Endeavor’s light is a false light. He is a good hero, the best there is currently, but calling him a hero requires ignoring everything he has done to his family. Most of the people who call Endeavor a hero have no idea what he did to his family, and even most of his family is just trying to forget and move on with their lives. 

Endeavor’s redemption so far has been a false one, it hinges on everybody else wanting to just move on with their lives, and everyone else being forgiving towards his actions. I’m not saying that Endeavor’s wish to atone isn’t genuine, I’m saying the story has been setting up an arc of false light. We are shown the light of his actions, his desire to redeem himself, his desire to be a hero that Shoto can look up to, and we ignore the shadow. 

There’s a duality to Endeavor. Technically there’s a duality to everyone. There’s the light, and the dark. To put it in less abstract terms, even within good intentions there can be hidden bad intentions. A person who gives to charity might just be doing it to make themselves feel like they’re a good person. There’s even an episode of friends about this, Phoebe gets in an argument with somebody that even “charitable” deeds like giving awaay money can be a little selfish because helping others makes you feel good about yourself, so she tries the whole episode to find a truly selfless action. 

There’s a duality to Endeavor, there are two Endeavors, Endeavor the hero, and Endeavor the bad dad. They are both Endeavor in the end, he is all of his good actions and bad actions. Focusing only on his bad actions, or only on his good actions would be an incorrect reading of his character. 

What I’m saying is, this idea has been building up in the story for a long time. This duality in Endeavro’s character. He is a hero capable of villainous things. However, the public, Endeavor’s own family, and characters like Midoriya and All Might only really ever see the good side to Endeavor’s actions. They all look at the light, at Endeavor the hero. 

For the most part Endeavor has not been confronted by consequences for his actions. Yes, Endeavor tries to listen when Natsuo expresses his hurt feelins. Yes, Endeavor realizes his family might want to live without him in the house. However, as opposed to Dabi who has been hated as a villain by all of society for the crimes he has committed, Endeavor is still getting the hero treatment. The worst Endeavor has to come against is his own children’s hurt feelings at his actions. Even then, Natsuo has somebody like Fuyumi constantly pushing him to try to reconcile with his father. He has Endeavor violating his boundaries, and hugging him. Rather than criticizing Endeavor for what he did, most of the criticism falls on Natsuo for not moving on. Like, what Endeavor did is just something that happened in the past that they all have to move on from. He still has the respect of his peers, he still has his position in society, he still has the title of Number One Hero. 

This happens because everybody looks at Endeavor, and they’re all blinded by the light, they only see his good deeds and not his bad ones. This isn’t a post debating whether or not Endeavor earned or deserves his punishment, or whether require punishment, it’s just an argument that there are consequences to your actions. That’s Dabi. He’s consequences. Everyone around Endeavor has been repressing their feelings. The Todorokis are asked to repress their personal hurt over the past for the sake of moving forward. 

 Dabi is the shadow that Endeavor casts. There is a villain in Endeavor’s actions. As long as Endeavor ignores that, as long as he keeps seeing himself in only a heroic life, that villain is only going to manifest elsewhere. In a story, repression does not work, simply ignoring your problems does not work. If a character ignores their shadow that shadow manifests and takes on a life of it’s own. 

Dabi is a response to those repressed feelings. Not only is he a repsonse to them, he’s an inevitable result of them. No child abuse doesn’t usually turn abuse victims into murderers. That’s also, not the point. The point is this is a story, Endeavor tried to just bury the past, and Dabi, rose from the grave and said “No, I don’t think the past is better off buried. I think we should talk about it.” 

2. The Monster

“People like to think their actions are free from guilt but they’re not-” This is once again more Jungian symbolism. People want to believe they are on the whole good and well-intentioned people. People want to believe they are better than they are. 

Dabi has been hurt. Burned even. While Endeavor only looks at the best of himself, his heroic intentions, his ambition to become number one, Dabi sees not only the worst in himself, but the worst in his father, the worst in everyone. 

The reason people identify with Dabi is not because they think murderers are sexy (but let’s admit it they are) it’s because Dabi as a character is made up of hurt feelings. He has been burned. He doesn’t forgive the people who burned him. He represents a darker, rawer side to human emotion. Sometimes abuse doesn’t make people poor innocent victims, it’s just pain, sometimes nothing constructive or good comes out of it. Sometimes it’s just damage, to you, and everybody around you. 

Putting aside the fact that he’s a murderer (hey I acknowledged it, look at me acknowledging it), Dabi is also written as a character to embody the worst parts of abuse. The negative emotions that Dabi feels are real. Dabi’s hurt feelings are just as real, as the good intentions and desire to forgive that family members like Fuyumi and Shoto have. Neither is more valid, more real than the other. 

However, everyone looks at the light, and the shadow is ignored. Dabi’s hurt feelings haven’t even been acknowledged. Not only that, but the feelings of all people hurt tend to get swept under the rug for the sake of “everyone else.” 

When Shigaraki says Heroes have turned a blind-eye to the suffering of others, he doesn’t mean that heroes don’t try their hardest to save people, or that heroes never save people. He’s saying that the characters in the story are repressing their issues instead of confronting them, and repression makes people ignorant instead of being able to truly address the problem. Now, connect that back to Dabi, who is the shadow of his father’s actions. 

Toya himself is someone in the story who has been “forgotten.” We see Fuyumi praying at his shrine, as well as Endeavor, Natsuo can’t bring himself to forgive Endeavor because of his feelings over Toya. Yes, yes, yes. However. One, the number one hero had his son die and nobody even investigated into those situation. Two, nobody even talks about it nowadays. Shoto brings up his older brother’s death at the dinner table like it’s just an awkward subject he’s uncomfortable talking about... not you know, a tragedy. 

And I’m not saying that Shoto is in the wrong here. I don’t mean to demonize his response. I’m suggesting he’s repressed. He’s repressing his hurt feelings about the brother he never got a chance to meet, his two other siblings, his mother, all of that to continue to work with his father because he wants to move forward with his dream, and probably because if he tried facing all of that it would hurt a lot. 

However, it’s still the tendency of all the characters on the heroic side to repress things, and look at that from Dabi’s point of view. His own family members don’t even recognize him because of a few scars on his face. 

It’s lonely. At the very least it’s lonely and serves to isolate Dabi in his grief further. Push him to believing that he really did die alone and was going to get forgotten, that his survival is just a hindrance that prevents everything in his family from moving forward. Dabi is made up of hurt feelings, and Dabi without prejudgice takes out those feelings on other people. However, Dabi is still a person. The same way Endeavor is both hero and villain, Dabi is both villain and victim at the same time. Dabi was a ten year old who didn’t really do anything wrong who died, after being ignored by his father his whole life. Dabi is, a zombie that’s barely alive, and constantly killing himself with his own quirk. Dabi’s pain is impossible to ignore, and yet he feels ignored. 

The difference between Dabi and Endeavor is that Dabi is living as a villain, he acknowledges that he is a villain. He’s the only one in the league to show genuine remorse for killing people, crying a tear of blood and trying to dissociate his own feelings of guilt and the past from himself to the point where he remarks he’s going ‘crazy’ thinking about it. (That doesn’t make it okay, but since when is anything ever okay with the Todorokis?) You have a character who knows exactly what he did wrong, confronting a character who for the most part still sees hismelf as a hero. 

Endeavor still sees himself as a hero in this situation. Dabi lives confronting the worst parts of himself (well he’s barely alive but still), he’s stich together scar tissue, and is covered in wounds. He is everything bad that has happened to him. But still, Dabi is at least AWARE. 

Beyond all the other plot details, what he’s doing right now is confrontation of something that Endeavor was previously ignorant of. It’s the crux of Dabi’s speech to Endeavor. What he’s saying is pointing out the dark side of each of Endeavor’s good actions. 

Endeavor becomes the number one hero, which means he finally gets all the praise, acclaim and honor he always thought he was entitled to. This doesn’t mean that Endeavor’s wish to become strong to serve as a supporting pillar for the nation was a lie, but what Dabi says also isn’t a lie either. It’s the hidden dark side of Endeavor’s actions which Endeavor does not acknowledge. 

Endeavor wants to move on and act like a father to his children like twenty years after the fact, and coincidentally this also happens right after being handed everything he wanted on a silver platter. Dabi is pointing out, the negative sides of Endeavor’s actions. Aren’t you just being nice because you’ve gotten everything you’ve wanted now? Don’t you just think you deserve to have your children love you too? 

Dabi is confronting Endeavor with the dark sides of actions so he can no longer remain blind, and he is literally in story an agent of the cosnequences of Endeavor’s actions. Dabi became a villain because Endeavor had a son for the sake of his own selfish desire to get stronger, cast him aside, and then even let Toya die. Even if Endeavor wants to move past that, Toya doesn’t. Because for Toya that defines his whole life. Toya was burned by either Endeavor’s flames, or the fire of his own quirk that Endeavor trained him to use. The reason Toya doesn’t move on is because for him, he can’t move on. Toya is dead. Toya died. Toya is some kind of zombie. And if not a zombie, Toya is dying. All because of what his father did to him. And he gets to see his father move on with his life. Everybody else gets to “Get over” his death with Toya, who is left behind. 

Toya is a frankenstein’s monster, created by Endeavor, abandoned by Endeavor, let loose by Endeavor on the world. In the real world this would be a far more complicated question, but in a story, especially one that references frankenstein directly, Dabi is quite literally “Endeavor’s Monster” running amok. Dabi would not even exist if not for Endeavor’s actions. 

Dabi doesn’t even know why he existed, or why he was brought into this world, because for him, all there’s been is pain. Pain enough to turn his hair white, and burn half of his skin off. 

The same way Endeavor only sees the best of himself, Dabi only sees the worst of himself, the shadow. However, the difference between them is Dabi has grown up mostly in the dark. 

Dabi is a reaction to circumstances. You can say it’s a bad reaction. You can say it’s not justified. You can call him a monster. You’re probably right, but still Dabi did not create those circumstances, Endeavor did, Dabi can only react to them. Dabi is a consequence to everything Endeavor did to his own family. It might be entirely Dabi’s choice how he reacts, and true Dabi did not have to choose to be a murderer, but Dabi also never deserved to be put into this situation in the first place. 

If Dabi is responsible for his reaction, then Endeavor is equally responsible for creating him. It’s something Endavor has to confront, because this ignorance, this represion, it hurts people. Think of Endeavor’s actions a few chapters ago. 

Shigaraki is another victim of an abusive father, just like Dabi. Shigaraki is also lashing out, and trying to bring down the hero society, just like Dabi. Endeavor right up until Dabi arrived, and revealed himself thought he was completely justified in wanting to kill Shigaraki for the sake of everyone. Up until five minutes ago, Endeavor only saw himself as the hero, the light, meant to vanquish the king of evil. 

Endeavor was perfectly willing to kill Shigaraki up until five minutes ago, because he only saw him as a villain. 

And now suddenly Dabi showed up and it got all complicated and shit. However, it was always complicated and shit. The villains were never objectively bad. The heroes were never objectively good. The world wasn’t as black and white as Endeavor saw it. 

Now Endeavor’s good action (saving all of hero society as number one hero), requires something most people would consider to be objectively bad (putting down his own son). 

The personal investment that Enji has in both Toya being his own son, and also his guilt over what he’s done to his family in the past, now make it impossible for Dabi to be just another villain. 

Except Dabi is Shigaraki. Dabi is Shigaraki, Himiko, Twice, Shuichi (not compress tho he’s just in it for the drama of it all). The villains in this story are trying to draw the attention of the heroes to problems within society, problems that have negatively affected them, so they can be fixed. You can’t fix something if you’re blind to it. You can’t deal with something by ignoring it. Dabi’s confrontation isn’t only inevitable, it’s necessary for moving forward. 

The shadow isn’t destroyed or ignored, it’s accepted, because in the end it’s a part of you. You are both everything good about you, and all of your flaws at the same time. Living as a fully rounded person means acknowledging that. 

Enji’s development is about putting his selfish sense of entitlement aside and learning how his actions have impacted others. Here is Dabi, dancing around going “Hey, Dad, this is how your actions have impacted me. Look at my burns.” 

Confrontation is good. The hurt feelings that have been repressed should be expressed. 

 If Enji had continued on being ignorant, he would have unknowingly torched his own son, and just seen him as another one of the villains. Isn’t that the worst possible result? Beyond hero and villain, isn’t a father killing his own son tragic? 

Dabi’s personal revenge is wrong. His decision to lash out is wrong. His obvious desire to kill himself, and then his own father isn’t just wrong, it’s unhealthy. Trying to burn yourself alive and be a martyr to a cause because you think there’s no good reason for you to be alive, and you’re going to die anyway no matter what you do - is in fact a bad coping mechanism. 

Dabi is wrong, however, ignoring what happened to him is also wrong. It’s all wrong. Trying to repress those hurt feelings is just as unhealthy a coping mechanism, as lashing out with them. 

Dabi is all hurt feelings, yes, he can’t forgive and he can’t forget, but maybe some things like the past shouldn’t be forgotten. Rather than ignoring the past you can acknowledge it, learn from it,  reincorporate it into who you are now, because the past is just as much of a part of the present as Dabi’s burnt skin and scars are a part of who he is now. 

[authoressofdarkness]

Fill: Sugar Daddy

Let me know if you want to be tagged for further bingo prompts! Either way, enjoy!

@snowstark 👀

~~~

Tony always buys his princess the finest things.

Designer suits, tailored to his lithe body. Expensive cufflinks that fit around his wrists just as perfectly as the leather cuffs Tony used to tether his dove wherever he wanted him, whenever he wanted him. Long, silky nightgowns for him to hike up to his hips when he wanted to taste him. Custom lingerie, clinging to his toned legs and chest in all the right places, and highlighting all his curves, making the soft hump between his thighs look all the more tantalizing, a variety of colors and see-through fabrics to taunt him from afar.

And he is far away all too often. It’s half the reason why he likes buying Peter things so much. To give him a piece of him while he’s away, something to wear in place of Tony’s marks that still mark him as his. It also makes good pictures and videos to keep him entertained while he’s away.

Not that he’s far away now.

He had been, for a few days. But today he had arrived home. Peter had been waiting for him in the living room. Sweet smelling candles and flower petals all across the penthouse, and a nice warm meal fresh out of the oven for him. The alpha had enjoyed it all and thanked him, easily pleasing his sweet omega with a few simple thanks and kisses. And then...

Then he’d taken what he really wanted.

The romance was all fine and good. He loves that Peter tries so hard for him. Loves Peter. But they both knew what had brought them together, and the payment Tony expects for his generosity.

Luckily, Peter is always so happy to give.

Now, his baby is spread out underneath him, covered in all the fine things he’d bought him. Fluffy handcuffs securing small wrists to the headboard, delicate red and gold lingerie clinging to slim hips and chest, silky blindfold covering those pretty doe eyes. His soft lips are painted the same color red as the lingerie. His eyes are highlighted with gold glitter, though that bit is hidden by the blindfold.

Tony wants to take a bite out of him. So he does.

“Ahh— oh god, daddy, please—“

He growls, tongue and teeth buried deep in his sweet omega’s soft bits. He leaves a perfect red imprint in his thigh — Peter’s pale flesh bruises so easily, perfectly, and god does he love marking his ownership of him under all of those pretty clothes he bought for him. He staked his claim all over him, but Tony was possessive, and Peter was just so tempting. It was never enough, not in his book.

The sweet thing’s thighs tremble from the sting of it, but his leg’s are tied wide open with Tony’s ropes. He’s not going anywhere. Not when Tony bites him. Not when he moves up nips at his clit, not when his tongue slides deep inside of him, when he sucks at his entrance, teases his folds, laps along his slit, and on and on — relentless in the giving of equal parts pleasure and pain.

It’s Tony’s reward, his payment from the poor thing, the dependant, soft, needy toy he owns. It’s Peter’s penance, punishment and salvation all in one.

It’s delicious torture. But they both love every second of it.

Even as the omega wails under him, body straining against the bondage when Tony pulls away again. His pleasure, and the impending orgasm curling in his stomach, fades away.

“Daddy! Please! Please, daddy, alpha, is not fair— no! Not the toy, please—“ he sobs, squirming under him as best he can in his bondage. Tony doubts even Peter knows whether he’s trying to get away or get more.

But he just chuckles, pressing the wand against the omega’s swollen clit. Peter knows that toys mean longer play, and probably more denials before his orgasms — if Tony decides to let him come. He’s conditioned by now to know what the feel of the vibrator means.

“Not fair?” He pretends to be surprised. “You think so?”

Peter sniffs, body straining under him. He feels it all, his chin resting against Peter’s thigh, right above the bite mark — watching, his body settled between Peter’s legs, looking up the length of his body at his prize, totally relaxed and comfortable as he takes his time taking him apart. “Yes!”

“You know what I think, Peter?”

“Wha-“

Crack. Right across the face. He gets a shocked gasp in response, and then a startled cry when Tony lifts the toy, hitting him right on the pussy. “I think you’re ungrateful. This?” He spanks his pussy again, twice. “This is mine. You are mine. To do whatever I want with. Remember? Remember promising me that?”

Peter sobs again, his whole body shuddering as Tony presses the toy back against him. “Y-yes, but—“

“No buts. But what, hm?” His voice is a near growl, deep in his alpha register. “Why would you want to take that back? Aren’t I good to you? Don’t I buy you everything you could ever want or need? I feed you and water you. I clothe you. I pay for this bed your horny, slutty little self is stretched out on. I pay for all your stuffies and blankets and your play dates with your little friends and your cars and your makeup and everything. Aren’t I a good daddy? Don’t I deserve this? Wasn’t I away all week, working, just to pay for your silly habits and your comfort? And you would deny me this? What’s really more unfair, hm?”

He plays with the settings on the toy the whole time he talks, moving it up and down, watching and feeling the way he arches, the omega’s body straining and shuddering as his body tries and fails to handle all the pleasure the alpha is forcing on him.

Tears soak the blindfold as Peter cries above him. “‘M sorry— please, alpha— daddy, I just— it’s so much, I need—“

“You always need,” Tony interrupts, feigning disgust. “I always give you what you need. It’s your turn to give me what I need for once.”

And he does. Just like he always does, all whining aside, Peter lets Tony play with him as long as he likes. Eventually, Tony gets his fill of toying and gives him what they both really need.

Later, as the bondage comes off and their bodies cool, his knot still keeping them firmly locked together, he holds his omega close — helps him take little sips of water and reassures him. Of course you’re not slutty. You always give me exactly what I need. I know you’re grateful. You’re perfect. Always perfect.

They sleep in each other’s arms. And the next day, after a frankly dirty shower together and a sweet shared breakfast, Tony sends Peter off to the mall with a new shiny black card — and a new vibrator tucked in his panties.

He heads off to work with the remote in his pocket and a grin on his face, unable to wait to get home and do it all again.

[bookwyrminspiration]

What do you think will be the long-term affects of all the trauma the poor keeper kids are enduring right now?

-Mossy

that's a tough one, seeing as everyone responds to trauma differently and I don't know how the effects would be approached in a world like keeper, but I can kinda puzzle some of it together. Some people might have individual responses, while others are more of a widespread thing, if that makes sense.

I think they'd all be anxious and have trouble regulating their focus, doing things for long periods of time. Right now, there's always something happening, never enough time to take a break, so every time they sit down to do something, to relax, it would feel like they're giving time to their enemies and that they have to get up and do something, move from thing to thing, be productive. Their enemies may be imprisoned or dead, but the sense that they don't get free time would remain, the insatiable urge to do something that would prevent them from relaxing for a really long time. They'd have to work up to it, exposing themselves to longer periods of doing nothing incrementally until they can enjoy it.

They might never put down their weapons, always carrying a few throwing stars or a hidden melder, just in case something happened, just in case they were fooled and their enemies aren't actually gone. Or they'd set them aside forever, burying them all in the back of their closets, the sight of them enough to send them into panics, because weapons mean fighting and fighting means they aren't safe.

Biana might kind of...disappear for a little bit, just vanish and not come back, needing to be away from everyone and everything, time to think. Everything she's been and become has been in response to someone else, and she realized she doesn't know who she is for herself. She's been so loud, taken up space, but she just wants to be alone. She's been in the public eye her whole life and she wants a break, for once. It'd worry her friends when she doesn't respond to their messages as often, when she only responds when reached out to, but they won't push her.

Dex can't stop building weapons, little explosives and creations meant to fight. he doesn't know what else to do with his ability, so he keeps creating destruction and tearing it apart. but he can't stop fiddling with things, because when he stops then he starts to think, and he doesn't want to think for a very long time. Mixed up in all that is disgust with himself, because he just keeps creating weapon after weapon, unable to see the beauty of his talent because he doesn't know how to make anything else. Eventually, he stops making things all together, at least for a while.

Keefe can't relax, still convinced that something is out there and that it's coming to get them and they need to be prepared. His walls are worse than during Neverseen because he doesn't let people see what he's doing. He puts on a solid mask, the portrait of ease, only slipping occasionally, joking like nothing ever happened to any of them. But he's so afraid all of the time. he can't sleep, can't eat, can't do anything but pace and desperately search for clues that don't exist, convincing himself that he's just missing it, because he doesn't want to admit that he's making it all up.

Fitz...is hurting. But the world still expects so much of him and with Biana disappearing everything falls to him, the only Vacker child left standing. He'd always known the world would rest on his shoulders, but he'd thought he'd at least have his siblings by his side. Now it's him facing the world, putting on a brave face, but he is so...tired. He is tired and he is hurt and he doesn't want to do this anymore, but he doesn't know how to do anything else, be anyone else.

Linh stays away from water as much as she can, fearing the destructive temptations. She'd done so much damage when she was afraid, fighting for her life, and every time she feels that pull she fears it will pull her under again, reminding her of the worst experiences of her childhood, the chaos that lives inside her. She's not herself without the ebb and flow of the water, but that's good. Because she can hurt people, and if she isn't herself then she can't hurt the people she loves.

Tam would disappear like Biana, but not in the same way. He's still there, still present, just...quiet. He doesn't argue, instead observing and watching and waiting, tense. He's waiting for the catch, like Keefe. While he's not convinced the Neverseen are still out there, he knows that they weren't the only threat, and so for him it's like nothing ever ended. He was struggling before they were part of his life and he's struggling after. There is no difference, just an eternal wariness. if the Neverseen aren't a problem, someone else will take their place, and he's going to be ready when they try.

Marella doesn't know what to do with herself anymore, but the world isn't going to wait for her so she throws herself back into it, talking to more people than ever, but having fewer friends that ever before. if she knows everyone, keeps an eye on everyone, then she might be able to stop anything before it happens, get to know people and know everything, never caught unawares. She'd get obsessive over control, everything laid out to a t, getting to a point where she tries to control people, panicked doesn't go as she wants it to.

Sophie is tricky. She wants to do something, to be productive, but she doesn't know what to do. People expected things from her as long as she was in the elven world and that pressure is destroying her, so I think she'd leave. She'd miss home, miss the familiarity, and go back to the Forbidden Cities. At least for a little bit, to find herself, to be someone who isn't famous and stared at wherever she goes. Maybe Biana stops by wherever she's staying from time to time, and then catch up, avoiding talking about the Lost Cities.

Of course, trauma affects everyone differently and presents itself in different ways. It messes with the brain, so it's hard to predict. These are my guesses at things that could happen, but you're more than welcome to your own ideas about it !!

[cno-inbminor]

a/n: yeah, i don’t know what this is. definite drabble dump! also unedited, so sorry. hope all of you are healthy and safe! please wear your masks when going out and sanitize frequently! 

pairing: heir!iwaizumi x reader

wc: ~1.8k

“Please, you have to hear me out—”

“I don’t have to do anything for you. Fuck, I don’t even know your real name!”

Hajime knew he was signing up for trouble the moment you gave him your name and placed his drink of choice in front of him. Seven months ago, he sought refuge at a hole-in-the-wall bar, one hidden in the shadows and away from the skyscrapers he was learning to detest. Your back had been turned towards him as he politely for a glass of whiskey, neat, but even the world of accomplished, beautiful heiresses couldn’t prepare him for the sight that was you. Hajime immediately believed that you weren’t supposed to be behind the polished wooden counter and underneath some poor lighting, that the uniform you donned was simply nothing more than a costume you were itching to get out of.

And idiotic, foolish him, stumbled and stuttered when you asked for a name to be put on the tab, and before he could stop from plunging into a world of inevitable pain, he replied, “Haru.”

So gripped by the fear of knowing that this bar was the last place he was supposed to be, so initially distrusting of your ability to keep secrets under wrap (an unspoken duty of bartenders), he lied through his teeth. And every Wednesday and Friday nights for the weeks following like clockwork, he would leave behind his custom Balenciaga suit jacket, replace it with a cheaper, itchier blazer stored in the closet of his office, take the train, and walk two and a half blocks to get to the alleyway where his asylum existed. He allowed you to subject him to any of your new concoctions, and whenever you let him stay as you closed up the bar (though mainly at his insistence because he always ended up being the last customer and wanted to make sure you could get to the station safely), it further emboldened his belief that he wanted nothing more than to be there by your side.

The guilt clawed through his chest day after day – it didn’t take half a brain to know that asking you out would be a bad idea in the long run, but he convinced himself that he would come clean with you some day. He was going to get out of this arranged marriage smoothly, deal with any damages that would ensue, and then unveil everything about his background in hopes that you would undoubtedly accept him and everything would be just fine.

But of course, karma would have it that he pays for his sins. He became too comfortable with the sneaking and the hiding, the lies about his job and role in the business world naturally spilling off his tongue. His world came crashing down when he least expected it – he had been waiting for you at your apartment in a t-shirt and sweatpants, answering work emails on his cellphone and ignoring some of Tooru’s nonsensical texts. Naturally, he perked up when he heard your key turn the bolt, already standing from the couch to greet you at the door and maybe help you with your things. Hajime was unaware of your rigid silence as you accepted his kiss on your cheek, letting him take the bags of groceries from your arms and bring them to the kitchen. It’s not until he sees the tabloid magazine haphazardly stashed next to the leeks and freezes at the two faces on the cover, two extremely, unsettling familiar faces.

In that moment, he could hear nothing but the dreadful pounding of his heart. He could feel your presence leaning against the sink and boring holes into his back, pleading, beseeching for some sort of explanation.

“It’s not what it looks like,” he trips over himself, finding the courage to turn around and face you. But what breaks him more than anything is how disappointed you look – he could take anger and tears right now, but the look of on your face that shows he has ultimately failed you crushes him.

“So what is it then?” You ask calmly, but the bitterness is scathing. “Because to me, it looks like the announcement of a marriage between two people who just so happen to be heirs to a couple of the largest companies in Japan.”

Hajime would like nothing more than the earth to open and swallow him whole, just so he has some time to gather up his excuses and do anything to keep you with him. It’s disgustingly selfish, but he can’t lose you. He just can’t.

“I don’t want it,” he says and reaches out tentatively, taking a single step until he’s right in front of you and lightly grasping your waist. You look over his shoulder defiantly, avoiding his gaze every time he tries to obstruct your vision. “I don’t want her, I just want you,” he spills.

“I always felt like something was off,” you quietly digress. “There were a couple of things that didn’t seem to line up, but I didn’t question it. I didn’t want to pry – I wanted you to open up whenever you felt comfortable. But I never imagined it to be something like this.”

“Please, you have to hear me out—”

“I don’t have to do anything for you. Fuck, I don’t even know your real name!”

It’s disturbing to know that the man you’ve been to bed with, the man that’s cooked for you on multiple occasions, the man that plagues your dreams from time to time in the last five months, goes by a different name. Takahiro Haru might have been just the average, run-of-the-mill, one of many financial analysts working over at Sony, and he was yours. But Iwaizumi Hajime, heir to one of the largest business corporations in Japan and an extremely eligible bachelor, could never be that.

“I’ll tell you everything,” he gulps, eyes frantic and searching for anything in your face and posture that says you’ll stay. “No more lies, but I’m doing my best to get out of this. For you, us. And—”

“I’m not the solution to getting out of your responsibilities, Haru. I know it’s 2020, but we’ve only been seeing each other for five months – your parents would be furious if they knew I was in the picture. Plus, she’s much more accomplished and beautiful, donates a ton of money to all the right causes and charities, why – why wouldn’t you want to marry her?”

Hajime moves to cradle your cheek, silently beckoning for you to lean into his palm. His thumb softly strokes your skin and you hate how comforting it is. You hate how easy it could be to just take his hand and jump into the deep end without a second though – that’s the control he has over you, and it’s incredibly frustrating.

“I don’t love her. Heir or not, I should be with someone I love, no?”

“But—”

“I love you,” and the way he says it like it’s the first time sends your heart to the clouds. “Nothing’s going to change that,” he tries to promise, using his free hand to lift one of yours to his lips and kissing the knuckles. And you want to believe him – you want to believe him so bad but it’s impossible. There are too many extraneous factors; going through with all this would thrust you into a world that you were completely unprepared for. Your life would be unceremoniously uprooted and haphazardly buried into a new garden.

Was it all worth it to be by this man’s side?

“I need time,” you whisper, moving away from Hajime’s hold on you. “I need time and space to think about this, but I can’t have you here to influence my decision.”

“…how long will that take?”

“As long as I need,” you firmly reply. Tears prick the corners of your eyes as you struggle to say the next sentence. “In the meantime…I need my spare key back.”

Even though Hajime already feels like he’s drowning in a pool of lava, the unmistakable chill of dread that runs through his veins is excruciating. Having your spare key meant unbridled access to you, only needing to give you a quick text whenever he was going to visit. But with this permission revoked, he wouldn’t be free to see you whenever he likes. He wouldn’t be able to escape into your calming embrace at the end of a long day and would have no other option but to return to his lonely, downtown penthouse. The realization is suffocating, like smoke entering his lungs and stealing away all his oxygen. He needs you so bad – this can’t be the end.

“No,” Hajime shakes his head stubbornly, making wide strides out of the kitchen and into your living room.

“Haru—”

“I’ll give you all the space for as long as you need, but don’t make me give you back the spare key—”

“Iwaizumi!” You cry out, teeth gnawing your bottom lip afterwards. He loathes the fact that the first time you call him by his real name is in the midst of the biggest storm he’s ever encountered – it’s full of raw pain and frustration, a complete antithesis to the loving tone you usually have when referring to him by his other name. It’s a whirlwind that only one can run from, and he knows it has to be him. After all, this was his monstrous creation.

Hajime does his best to the keep the trembling of his hands to a minimum as they fish out his keychain and start unwinding the most significant piece of metal on there. The closer it gets to the other end of the ring, the more he struggles to not toss it away and fight for himself. But he places the key in your awaiting palm and watches with a breaking heart as your fingers close around it, your nails digging into your own flesh.  

“You need to leave,” you struggle to order.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen this way.”

“I know.”

You don’t stop him when he moves forward to give you one of the sweetest kisses you’ve ever experienced, relishing in these last moments of intimacy. Both of you itch for more, but now is not the time. You walk him to the door, heart sinking as he slides on his polished shoes. He gives you another once over and drinks in all the details he can, branding your image in his brain for the next possible agonizing weeks.

“I love you, (y/n),” he quietly declares for the nth time.

And he desperately clings onto the little hope that he has when you reply, “I love you too…Hajime.”

[babymetaldoll]

The bullies of the future (Matthew Gray Gubler/Reader)

Prompt: Imagine school in 300 years

Word count: 2,8K

Summary: Matthew starts rambling about the future over dinner. How do you think school will be in the future... will there be bullies... will our kids be bullied. All the questions reader has no idea how to answer. 

Pairing: Matthew Gray Gubler/ Reader 

Category: Fluff

Warnings: mention of bulling and cursing

Masterlist 

- “I'm just saying, when we have kids, they are going to be homeschooled”- Matthew kept stirring the pot and (Y/N) continued chopping veggies, like what they were talking about was no big deal at all.

Of course, 'cos you and your boyfriend of seven years just happen to talk about your future together every once in... seven years, apparently. And it had to happen casually as you cooked dinner together.

So, (Y/N) took a deep breath and played it cool.

- “Home school? you wanna get our kids tutors?”

- “No, no! god no!”- he made a pause and analyzed the idea- “Well, maybe... I don't trust my math, but I was thinking maybe we could both be in charge of their education.”

Matthew was talking about it like it wasn't a big deal. It was: "Which topping do you want on your pizza today, by the way, let's have kids and homeschool them together!". No biggie, right?

- “Other than the fact we were both bullied in school, why do you want to keep them in our little house bubble all day?”- (Y/N) made her best to sound as casual and cool as possible, though she was freaking out inside.

- “'Cos school sucks”- Matthew simply replied, and both of them fell into a comfortable silence for a few minutes.

- “I wonder what school will like in 300 years”- Gubler was thinking out loud, and (Y/N) found herself staring at the ceiling analyzing the idea.

- “I bet it will still suck”- she added and heard him chuckle.

- “And of course, aliens will be the teachers”- he stated and nodded at his own words- “Maybe they can "ET" us, and put all the knowledge inside our brain just with a finger on our forehead.”

- “So you wanna be fingered by an alien in school?”- (Y/N) looked at her boyfriend and frowned pretending to be confused, but making her best not to laugh. He, on the other hand, was laughing so hard she was sure the whole neighborhood could listen.

- “When you put it in those words... I don't know... maybe if they are hot aliens...”

- “I hope they are cool aliens, not the ones who always try to blow up Earth, or end with humankind”

Gubler stared at his girlfriend, she was taking the dough she had already made and had to rest, and started getting ready to prepare their pizza.

- “Is the salsa ready, Gub?”- he nodded and turned off the stove.

- “Do you think there will be bullies in school 300 years in the future?”- the tone of his voice was a little more serious, (Y/N) noticed it right away. Maybe that's where all the homeschooling idea was coming from.

- “It's more likely, people are and will be assholes forever, why?”- he shrugged and moved to the kitchen island, holding the pot with the tomato sauce he had prepared (it was his own personal recipe, and he was proud of it. It might or may not be taken from (Y/N)'s mom, but that was a fight he was never going to quit).

- “Hon, you know you can't keep kids in a bubble just to stop them from being hurt”

- “I know”- he whispered and focused on (Y/N)'s hand kneading the dough. Somehow, cooking with her felt like a place he could hide in.

If he was honest - which he was in his mind, but no as verbally as people might think- he could spend the rest of his life eating everything and anything that she cooked for him. He could gain a hundredth pounds, and he wouldn't care, he loved her home cooking, 'cos it was in fact, his home.

They had been seven years together, and he was now all of a sudden talking about kids. He didn't understand where that thought was coming from, but he knew he was sure she was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. It wasn't something he had to think about, it was something he felt on the inside every morning when she was the first thing he saw, as soon as he opened his eyes.

- “Wanna talk about what this is really about?”- her words took him from his thoughts, but he shook his head in silence- “Then pick a movie, I'll put the pizza in the oven and we'll be ready in twenty minutes.”

Matthew picked the original Carrie movie for their Saturday lazy date night, and they cuddled on their couch to watch it eating their homemade pizza. They chatted about all their favorite scenes and laughed at the poor special effects, but by the end of it, after an obscene amount of food and a bottle and a half of red wine, Matthew couldn't shake the bully's thoughts away.

- “Would you go all Carrie with your high school bullies if you could?”- his voice was a soft whisper as (Y/N) turned off the tv and the screen went black.

- “I don't think so... I wanted to when I was in school, but I don't think I care so much right now... although who knows what might happen if I get to see one of those assholes again”

The girl turned to her boyfriend, her legs laid on his lap as he sat next to her, covered with the same blanket. He knew he had to admit it, but there was a part of him that kept thinking maybe if he didn't talk about it, it hadn't happened.

- “I bumped into one of my bullies today”- he looked down at his hands, playing with a napkin as he spoke. He didn't want to turn his eyes to her 'cos he knew she would be scared and concerned. Which she was. She couldn't believe something like that had actually happened.

Matthew openly talked about his bullying experience in school in a positive and inspiring way, to help people under the same kind of situation face it and overcome it. But he never let anyone close enough to his trauma so they could understand how bad things had been for him. And it had been bad. The fact no one could call him "Matt", though it was the "go-to" nickname for Matthew was just the tip of that iceberg.

(Y/N) knew most of it after all that time, that's why it shocked her to know her boyfriend had bumped into someone from that dark era of his life.

- “Who?”

- “Chris Sanders...”- Gubler wished he could forget that name, but it was not possible. He didn't have an eidetic memory like his character Reid, but the trauma of years of bullying wasn't easy to erase.

- “Where?”

- “At a coffee shop this morning when I was out getting groceries... it was weird”

- “I bet it was”- (Y/N) moved closer to her boyfriend, wrapping her arms around him and kissing his cheeks several times- “Do you want me to kill him? ask me to kill for you, Gubler, please do”

She joked and managed to make him chuckle. But it only lasted for a second.

- “I know I have to be the bigger man, but I couldn't”

- “You don't have to be anything, honey”- (Y/N) leaned to him and kissed his cheek a few times. Matthew closed his eyes and sighed, the sensation of her lips against his skin was enough to relax him. But the memories he had buried were too clear in his head now, and there wasn't much he could do to wipe them off.

- “He put me in a fucking locker every day for a whole year”- Gubler closed his eyes tighter and held his breath for a few seconds.

- “Son of a bitch!”- just thought of her boyfriend going through that torture as a kid, hurt (Y/N) deeper than she could explain. She would give anything and everything she had, to travel back in time and kick those mother fucker's bully asses.

- “And today, he approached me like we were long lost friends”- Matthew scoffed- “Can you believe that? he walked to me and hugged me yelling "Matt" like I should be surprised and happy to bump into him!”

- “That asshole! and what did you do?”

- “I didn't know what to do, so I panicked and stayed still for a second, and he continued talking and talking about how great he was doing, and how he had seen me on tv, and... I tried to get my coffee and run away, but one thing he said just... made me snap.”

- “What did he say?”- (Y/N) whispered. Matthew sighed and looked down at his hands. Somehow, he felt guilty about what had happened, somehow he felt responsible for being mean to someone who had been cruel to him for years.

- “He said he saw an interview of me thanking every bully for being mean to me, 'cos they made me who I am today...”- Gubler whispered every word, and (Y/N) held his hands, trying to make him feel safe.

- “You did say that, I remember”

- “Yeah, but I was trying to be a positive... he just...”

Matthew was struggling with his words. He was trying to clear his head, but he was so mad, so upset, so... angry with himself for accepting the abuse for so many years, he couldn't think straight.

- “Hey, hey!”- (Y/N) leaned and kissed the tip of his nose- “I'm here, you are home, everything is ok, so come back”- she smiled at him and watched him smile shyly.

- “Yeah... I'm here”- he moved closer to her, and slowly rested his head on her shoulder. (Y/N) instinctively wrapped her arms around his body, and held him close to her, protecting him from his thoughts.

The couple stayed in silence for a few minutes. Matthew didn't want to make a big deal out of the whole thing, but deep down inside, he had bottled up so many feelings, he was having a hard time hiding them from his girlfriend.

- “He said I owe him”- Gubler murmured so quietly, (Y/N) barely heard him. He was hidden in the crook of her neck, trying to focus only on the smell of her skin instead of all the thoughts that kept hunting his mind.

- “What?”- his girlfriend whispered and clenched her fists behind his back. Of all the things she could have imagined that asshole telling her boyfriend, "you owe me" wasn't one of it. It wasn't even in the top 10. "I'm sorry I was a mother fucker with you back in high school" was something he should have said, but "You owe me"? only a real sociopath could make such sick joke.

- “And I... just... snapped”- Gubler bit his lips as he moved and stared at (Y/N), his puppy eyes were so apologetic, it made her feel he was indeed apologizing to her for something bad he had done.

(Y/N)'s hands caressed his cheeks as she smiled at him kindly. Whatever he had done - even it that included beating the shit out of that asshole - she knew he meant no harm. Matthew was a pacific guy, he wouldn't get mad, he would always be nice to everybody, even with people who were annoying or rude.

- “Gub, whatever happened, he totally asked for it”- she reassured him.

- “Yeah...”- but still, he didn't say a word

- “Did you hit him?”- he shook his head and sighed

- “I should have, though”- his voice was a whisper again.

- “Yeah, he deserved it... actually, let's google that asshole, I wanna go and smash his fucking face against a brick wall”- Matthew chuckled and stared at his girlfriend- “I mean it, I want to”

- “Maybe then we can google Jen Bennet, and avenge your shitty high school years as well”

- “So you really want me to go all Carrie on my high school bullies?”- Gubler shrugged smiling, but his response was a bluff and she knew it, he was never going to endorse any kind of violent behavior. Not like she would.

- “I don't want you to do that, never”- Matthew gave her a sweet peck on the lips and rested his forehead against hers. Silence hung between them for a few seconds, until Gubler finally sighed and whispered.

- “I threw my coffee to his face and yelled he was a narcissist son of bitch”

- “And?”- (Y/N) moved, looking into his eyes as she furrowed her brows, not getting the big deal of it- “He deserved it!”

- “Yeah but... maybe I overreacted?”

- “Did you stab him?”- but Gubler shook his head- “You didn't kick his balls, right?”- and he shook his head again- “Then, what's the whole deal?”

- “I burned his face and neck with hot coffee, not to mention the fact I yelled and cursed right onto his face in front of a lot of people”

- “So?”- (Y/N) wasn't getting what was the big deal. Sanders had been a bully to her boyfriend, he deserved worse. He deserved hell, 'cos he had put Matthew through a nightmare. She would hurt everyone who had done anything bad to him if she could. That's how much she loved him. No question asked.

- “So?!”- Matthew was in shock his girlfriend was taking things so calmly.

- “Honey, though I know you are the perfect guy who thinks being nice is better than anything else in the world, I have to burst that bubble for you: sometimes, people are assholes and we have to kick ass, you don't have to be a unicorn all the time.”

- “I'm not a unicorn!!”- he replied looking almost insulted. Matthew turned to the coffee table, poured what was left of their bottle of wine into their glasses and gave one to his girlfriend, who was smiling playfully.

- “Ok... a teddybear then”- she took a sip and sighed. Gubler stared at her biting his lips, probably trying to find something to say, but thoughts were overwhelming at that minute. He felt guilty and honestly bad about how he had reacted. He thought standing up in front of a bully was going to feel better, but apparently, it sucked.

(Y/N) could read on his face all the struggles happening in his mind. Her finger found his hair, and ran slowly through it, knowing it was something that always managed to relax him.

- “I just feel I'm no better than him after what I did”

- “Don't overthink it, Matthew Gray”- he felt her hands tug his hair softly, as a small chuckle left her lips- “You are better than anyone and everyone I know or might know”

- “Are you going to encourage our kids to kick ass?”

- “Yes!”- she answered not giving the idea a second thought- “But only if someone is messing with them”

- “Them?”- Gubler raised an eyebrow and (Y/N) felt her cheeks burning in no time. Had she said too much? no way.

- “You said kids, plural, them, kids, them...”- she poorly explained almost stuttering. The fact they were talking about kids was still too much for her to handle. It scared and excited her at the very same time. It felt like something she wanted to do, and couldn't wait to do, but never knew it until that day.

- “I see... maybe school 300 in the future will have better anti-bullying policies...”

- “We are not having kids in 300 kids, Matthew”- (Y/N) didn't realize what she had gotten into until it was too late- “I mean... I don't think we will be alive in 300 years.”

She made a pause as they stared at each other quietly. Neither of them knew what to say next, so she quickly looked for a way to change the course of the conversation drastically.

- “Anyway, it was a good pizza”

- “Yeah”- he nodded frenetically and blushed.

- “And a great shitty movie”

- “It ain't shitty”

- “The book is better”

- “Nerd”- (Y/N) gasped pretending to be offended and watched how Gubler bit his lips. She still didn't know if he did that on purpose or not, but whatever it was, it had one hell of an effect on her every single time, even after seven years.

- “Finish that wine and follow me upstairs”- her words were a command. 

- “Why?”- he raised an eyebrow knowing exactly what she was talking about.

- “I wanna cheer you up for beating up that bully”- Gubler didn't argue with that at all, he finished what was left in his glass and stood up.

- “Are you always going to cheer me up with crazy dirty sex?”

- “Yes”- she turned to him and frowned- “Is that a bad thing?”

- “Did you hear me complain?”- he grinned- “We could have done it on the couch, you know”

- “You can't tie me to the couch”- (Y/N) teased and curled his lips to a dirty smile.

- “I love you”

- “I know.”

[kazcosmo]

not a double date

oikawa tooru x reader

❥- mutual pining though the both of you don’t know, idiots to lovers (still idiots though), pure fluff

❥- word count; 2,028 words

!not proofread!

(g/n means ‘girl’s name’ because i have literally zero idea what i was gonna do there)

“It’s not a double date,” you tell him, fluffing the pillow behind you to make your seating much more comfortable on the couch inside your best friend’s dorm, “we’re just third and fourth wheeling.” You flash him a grin, “And while we do that we might get to fuck around and mess with him and his date a little.” You add, a mischievous glimmer in your eyes.

The brunette can’t help but huff out a laugh, leaning against his own set of pillows as he remembered the last time Iwaizumi had trusted the both of you enough to let you two go with him to meet with the girl he’s been going on dates for a while. 

Come to think of it, it wasn’t actually that Iwa had trusted you both not to act like idiots, Iwa just knew that the whining from the you and his best friend would never stop until he’s allowed you both to go with him and his girl. Ex-girl, actually.

“Yeah, because that went so well last time.” Oikawa tells you in a singsong voice that would’ve sounded like saccharine if there wasn’t sarcasm dripping off it. You smack his arm, satisfied when he winces.

“Hey! It did!” You protest, pouting at him slightly. “Without us, Iwa would have never found out how incompatible they were, it was kind of obvious, but you know he’s way too polite to pay attention to how bad it was gonna go from there.” You said, beginning to feel a little sulky and grabbing the bowl of popcorn from him and stuffing a few into your mouth. Your reaction only makes him grin wider.

“Sure it was,” he muses, trying to fight the smile forming on his lips as you glared at him you’re your (stolen) bowl of popcorn. “She thought so too, didn’t she? Poor girl just gaped at you when you started questioning her like she committed a crime or something.” Oikawa knew you were telling the truth, of course. You had helped. He was there when everything went downhill. He might’ve helped a little bit, though his little prodding weren’t nearly as obvious or as embarrassing as yours. Heat creeps onto your cheeks and you send a pillow straight to his face.

He’s laughing now, the sound light and airy, maybe attractive if you weren’t so pissed off by his teasing. “God, shut up. And hey! You helped me.” you nearly whine, shutting your eyes and burying your face behind the blankets covering you both as if it would shield you from the onslaught of memories at just how bad (and embarrassing, on your part) it had gotten last time.

You knew that subtlety wasn’t your best suit, and you definitely weren’t subtle when you started throwing questions at the Iwa’s last date. But it helped prevent your friend from landing into a relationship that would have ended badly anyway, you just saved him the trouble of experiencing that.

He smiles at the sight of you hunched over the bowl of popcorn, muttering incoherently, face half-hidden by the blankets. He tugs your arm and you greet his beaming face with a scowl. Still, you scoot closer towards him, careful not to spill any of the popcorn and letting him hold you in a way that’s far too close for two people who are definitely not dating.

You both don’t seem to realize that this proximity towards each other tiptoed over the boundaries of being best friends, after all, you’ve subconsciously went over that line way too many times before.

“Maybe this time I’ll be the one to ask questions, hm?” He asks, the teasing edge still there in the way he spoke. 

You scrunched your face in distaste but still agree anyways, “Yeah, yeah, whatever, just don’t make a fool of yourself.”

“Is this you telling me not to follow your footsteps? Trust me, pretty baby, I won’t.” He says it with mock sincerity that has you setting the bowl on the coffee table in front of you two and turning towards him to attack him with a pillow.

Soon enough, you both were whacking pillows against each other. Whatever was playing on the TV was quickly forgotten, just a faint sound fading into the background as your shrieks and laughter came. Just two best friends about to go on a not-date the day after this, having a pillow fight.

the not-date;

The four of you find yourselves in an arcade, you and Tooru buzzing with excitement, completely forgetting the existence of Iwaizumi and his date, the former watching you both with and exasperated look and the latter smiling at the childish antics that you two have been displaying ever since you guys met at the cafe. 

Pleasantries jad turned into comfortable conversations over a cup of coffee. You nearly forget the fact that you were there to check if Iwa’s new girl has no intentions of hurting him, luckily, Oikawa didn’t. And every careful question was answered with every bit of honesty you two looked for. And soon enough, the brunette was spilling childhood stories about him, you and Iwa-chan. Giving more detail to Iwaizumi, of course. 

Now you were in an arcade, per Tooru’s suggestion.

Your gaze lands at one particular prize; an alien plushy that has you locking eyes with Oikawa, communicating without words. And then you both were off, buying tokens to use, playing games to get the highest amount of tickets to see who could get the cute little alien first. Iwa sighs upon seeing the both of you take off, g/n’s hand tugging at the sleeves of his hoodie and pulling him somewhere to play a couple of games.

A while has passed since that, and here you were, glaring at the brunette, willing him to flinch a little so he’d miss his shot. He’s been going at the basketball game for a few minutes and what ticked you off was that he never missed. Your gaze travels down to where the machine was dispensing a ridiculous amount of tickets. The beginnings of a frown started forming on your lips.

You cross your arms over your chest, still glaring. He sighs, throwing his final winning shot, and this time you really frown a when more tickets starts getting dispensed from the machine. “That’s cheating.” You huff. He only chuckles in response.

“Sore loser.” He sticks his tongue out at you as he kneels to collect everything.

“I want the plushy.” You told him.

“Better luck next time then, y/n-chan.” He tuts and you resist the urge to kick him.

“Tooru,” He stills when you call him, head turning towards you slowly, hands cupping the tickets as he was knelt down. “I want the plushy.” You repeat, pouting slightly.

He looks at you, blinking once to break his stare, before he turns away, sighing again, “Alright, I’ll be kind. I can’t have you being all sad during the ride back home.” As you beam and thank him, getting on your knees as well just to give him a brief hug from behind, his heartbeat speeds up and he silently prays for you not to notice the red tinge on his ears that gave away how affected he was by you. 

But you notice, you always do. But you stayed quiet, never giving him trouble for it. After all, who were you to talk? Saying he doesn’t have an effect on you would be lying anyway.

The day ends with you clutching a green plushy to your chest and Tooru’s hand slung on your shoulders as you, him, Iwaizumi and g/n walk outside and towards Iwa’s car, already having agreed to send them off and his date before going home as well.

“I had so much fun today with all of you guys!” she grinned and you can’t help but smile back. She was different, you knew it, and you knew you didn’t have to tell Iwaizumi that. With the way he looks at her, you know that he knows she’s really special too.

“Haji talks about you guys a lot, and now that I was able to witness it, I can really tell why you guys are such great friends.”

Tooru’s lips form into a pout. You don’t miss the look of mischief in his brown orbs, and you prepare yourself to smack his head for whatever nonsense he was gonna say, “She’s so nice Iwa-chan! You should try being more like her!” He mutters an ‘ow’ under his breath as your palm comes in contact with the back of his head.

“That really hurt y/n-chan!” He whines and you roll your eyes. You hear Iwa say something along the lines of ‘Well deserved, shittykawa.’ that has a pouty Tooru arguing with him. You take the time for your hand to reach up to where you hit him, hands softly tracing soothing circles on his head, fingers tangled in brown locks. G/n notices this and comments about it,

“You guys look so cute together!”

You nearly choke as you hear those words, eyes blown wide as you stare at Iwa’s date. Tooru rubs soothing circles on your back as you try to process her words. He doesn’t miss a beat, flashing a smile to g/n, “We do, don’t we, pretty?” The nickname brings a weird fluttering to your stomach and causes heat to spread on your cheeks, both feelings you were used to whenever the unusually sweet endearment comes up although you’ve never bothered to know why.

You shake off the odd feeling that has you giddy, and you decide to play along, “I guess we do.” You grin sheepishly. When Tooru’s hand reaches for yours, you make no effort to pull away, instead intertwining your fingers with his.

“It’s been really fun guys, I wanna do this again sometime.” She says, bidding you goodbye and seating herself on the front passenger’s seat. Iwa shuts the door behind g/n and you let go of Tooru’s hand, not noticing the frown on his face as you did so. 

Iwaizumi moves towards the door leading to the driver’s seat. He had his hand ready to open the car door when he pauses, “This is your cue to stop being idiots and start dating, it’s really unbearable with all the pining you seem to have no clue you’re doing.” he sighs, opens he door and shuts it again as soon as he was inside.

Iwaizumi had driven off by the time you stop gaping and have finally regained your ability to speak, “I- What?” You ask, dazed by Iwa’s words.

Dating your best friend? The Oikawa Tooru who you grew up with? The same brunette who’s been with you through thick and thin, teasing you and whining along the way. The very guy who’s house you practically considered home. The guy who you shared your problems with and shared his too. Date that guy?

You’ve never really thought of it before, and now that you have, it had your head spinning.

Because it was also that boy who had made you smile no matter what. It was him that caused butterflies in your stomach and heat rushing to your face.

You remember all the times you’ve whined about him to Iwaizumi, complaining about how annoying Oikawa was and how you can’t do anything else but put up with him. Iwa had laughed then, for a reason you didn’t know, and he’d told you, “You know, shittykawa tells me the same thing and I always ask him the same question. Why are you so willing to put up with each other then?”

You weren’t able to answer Iwa’s question.

Maybe you can now.

Your head whips towards Oikawa who just smiles a sickeningly genuine smile that seemed so sweet, an arrow aimed straight to your heart, “Well, you heard him, pretty.” He holds your hand again this time, looking into your eyes as you stared in his brown orbs, ever as soft and sweet as the smile he’s has now. 

“So, when can I take you on a real date? I prefer one where we’re no longer third or fourth wheeling, by the way.”

[pathological-peoplepleaser-alert]

Hospital Playlist : Season 1

So, I recently re-watched season 1 of Hospital Playlist in preparation of season 2 that’s going to be released on the 17th of June, and I have a couple of thoughts that I want to share. Warning: It’s going to be filled with spoilers, so for those looking to avoid that, please don’t read more. Also, this is a looooonnnnggg one :)

“Hospital Playlist” is a Korean Drama that follows five doctors in their 40s who have been best friends since adolescence as they form a band together. While the log-line appears simple, the depth in the script and acting will enchant any audience. The narrative is free-spirited and quirky, reverberating friendships forged by love and time in a heart-warming style.

This slice of life drama realistically tackles what occurs within the white walls of the hospital. From ungrateful patients to the long wait for donors, it has it all. This drama covered plenty of cases, each of them as sad as the next. I recall when Yang Seok Hyeong, an assistant professor of obstetrics and gynaecology, had a patient who delivered a baby with anencephaly. He was considerate enough to not allow the mother to hear the baby’s cries by playing loud music in the delivery room and quickly escorting the baby away from the mother. I teared up during that scene, and I still tear up just thinking about that. I watched it as a case in a K-Drama, but it is many people’s gruesome reality, and all I can offer are my sympathies.

Despite zoning out during the technical aspects and elucidation of medical terminologies, I could feel the gravity of an operation and the burden of Atlas resting on the doctors when they held the scalpel. I liked the fact that there wasn’t any hospital politics. Rather, the show focused on the doctors, as they tried their best to save their patients. I mourned during the losses of life and celebrated with the characters after a successful surgery.

The ensemble cast for “Hospital Playlist” was flawless. The sincerity of the actors and the efforts they had put into studying and understanding their roles were clear as day. The chemistry between them was organic and the banters, natural. While they didn’t verbalise every emotion, the viewers could feel their familiarity, like they were real-life friends on screen. I was on an emotional rollercoaster as I watched this, rooting for them through hardships and cheering whenever they laughed.

“I wondered why my life was getting so difficult. It was really tough. But all of a sudden, one day, I realised how much time I was wasting. Wasting my life away like this because of what she did to me was doing a disservice to myself.”

Jo Jung-Suk did a flawless job portraying Lee Ik-Jun. This was my second time witnessing a drama with Jo Jung Suk, and while I wouldn’t applaud his performance in “Oh, My Ghostess!” (But in his defence, I found that script to be problematic) I absolutely loved him in “Hospital Playlist”. Lee Ik-Jun is an assistant professor of general surgery. He’s funny, sociable, laid-back, charming, and a dotting, single father to his son, Woo Joo.

The first time I, as the viewer, was introduced to him was gold. Naughty little Woo Joo had managed to put a blotch of super glue to a Darth Vader helmet, which was later worn by his father. During an emergency at the hospital, Ik Jun showed up decked in Darth Vader gear and bravely holding a light saber, demanding that the helmet was unglued from his head. He got his wish, but only after performing surgery while wearing the helmet.

Watching Ik-Jun and his son together is heartwarming, to say the least. You can tell how much he loves his son, as seen by the way he prepared meatballs from scratch, including the ketchup, excitedly for his son, only for the latter to claim he wanted meatballs, causing the former to trip on his way to the kitchen. I also adore how most of the bonding scenes we see between them happens over sandwiches. I find that very precious.

Ik Jun is also very friendly to everyone. He warmly welcomes the medical students, greets his colleagues with a smile, and most notably, plays as a matchmaker between Jeong-won and Jang Gyeo-wool, even if it is so the latter could assist him on more surgeries. His relationship with his sister is also beautiful. I love how authentic they are, from their bickering and the hidden ways they care for each other.

Ik Jun provides comic relief plenty of times— I nearly fell off my chair laughing when he mimicked a train, and also upon seeing how adamant he was to eavesdrop on a private phone conversation of Kim Jun-wan.

“I don’t deserve to be a doctor. I can’t control my emotions. I empathise too easily.”

I must admit, Ahn Jeong Won has a soft spot in my heart and is my favourite from the group of friends. An assistant professor of pediatric surgery, Jeong Won gets overly attached to patients and takes every loss personally. Due to his sensitive nature, he’s detailed in everything he does, earning the teasing nickname of “Buddha” from his colleagues.

Hardworking but overemotional, there have been many instances when Jeong Won swears to quit being a doctor after a patient has unfortunately succumbed, and it’s only through the insistence of his oldest brother does he continue his job. He’s immensely religious and has a close relationship with God, and considered being a priest until the season finale.

His interactions with his young patients tug on all my heartstrings. From the gentle way he gets the permission of small children to check their vitals, to the dedication with which he treats his patients and dissolves their fears.

One of my favourite quotes of this drama was said by him, “Do you know why doctors only give vague answers such as ‘We can’t be sure yet,’ ‘We don’t know yet,’ and ‘We need to observe a bit more?’ Doctors must take responsibility for their words, so we must be careful. There’s only one thing we, as doctors, can tell our patients with certainty. ‘We will do our best.’”

Despite being born from a wealthy family, Jeong Won is nearly broke, spending all his fortune anonymously covering the hospital fees of poor patients.

Chae Song Hwa summarised Jeong Won’s personality neatly in episode 12 when she said, “Lastly, there’s you (Jeong Won). Seeing others enjoy good food makes you happier than when you are eating it yourself.”

“If the doctor gives up on the patient, he isn’t a doctor anymore.”

At first glance, Kim Jun Wan appears cold and scary, but there are so many dimensions to his character. He’s blunt, assertive and has a reputation for telling his patients what they need to hear, not that they want to hear.

However, he’s possibly the most caring person, having allowed Jeong Won to, in his own words, “mooch” of him for years now. He was also always nagging and hovering over his friends, keeping a stash of chocolates for them. He stepped up as the Chief of the cardiothoracic surgery department multiple times, whether it was to act as a shield to his mentee or to reprimand his juniors about the importance of (a patient’s) life and how every single decision taken by a doctor has to be thoughtful and absolute because there’s no way to reverse such things.

A great example of his outer versus inner personality is when he’s questioned by a medical student on why he chose to be a cardiothoracic surgeon. While he claimed that he became a surgeon after asking his professor which job would allow him to get the most money, with a glimpse of a flashback scene, it was revealed that when back as a student, Jun Wan was given the opportunity to witness a surgery and then, to touch a beating human heart, and felt life, that solidified his decision to choose cardiology as his field. Recalling that scene gives me goosebumps even now. That was magical.

Jun Wan is also a huge foodie, his only competition being Song-Hwa.

“What have you done for yourself lately?”

Chae Song Hwa is an associate professor of neurosurgery. Discerning without being too critical, she is intelligent and is often the mother hen of the group. Respected by her juniors, she has also been fondly dubbed the ‘ghost’ due to her busy schedule that has left several of her colleagues wondering whether she has time to eat or sleep. She was everywhere and knew everything, which allowed her to quietly look after the residents of the hospital and the patients.

Despite being buried under piles of work, she still made the time to grade her juniors papers, and I’m reminded of one of the first instances the viewers were given of her, which was when she comforted a patient in the elevators of a hospital. The only female professor in neurosurgery, she is kind to her patients.

I adore how decisive she is, being extremely clear about what she wants, drawing boundaries while still being friendly and radiating professionalism to those around her, despite the hardships she might be going through. She routinely goes camping during the weekend and is the embodiment of positive self-love.

Some of my favourite moments in this drama was literally just Song Hwa and Jun Wan aggressively eating like they’ve been hungry since the dawn of time. Song Hwa might have claimed that the reason she ate so rapidly, so full of zeal was because of growing up with older brothers, but Ik Jun was quick to shoot her down and note that they all looked boney.

“My time is too precious for that. I want to live doing the things I like. And the things I want to do right now.”

Probably the most under-appreciated character, Yang Seok Hyeong is a treasure. My first opinion of him was ‘mama’s boy’ and while I was correct, wow, I had not expected the reason why. In his youth, Seok Hyeong was not close to his mother at all, and we could even see him ignoring her phone calls. But after everything that happened with his dad, he grew closer to his mother, developed a new sense of protectiveness and appreciation for her, and I adore that.

He was also the reason the band reunited in the first place, making that his condition for working at the Yulje Medical Center. Despite seeming aloof, he was an open book to his friends. He didn’t like to bother or intrude on people and usually kept to himself, gaining a reputation for being a loner whenever he was not around his four friends.

Throughout the season, he was trapped in a whirlwind of turmoil, from the news of his unexpected brother to his father’s death and his surprise succession to the company he wants no ties with. He maintains a calm exterior and braces through the troubles.

Seok Hyeong lives up to the sensitivity his job demands from him, softly informing expecting mothers about the risks of their pregnancies while encouraging and empathising with them when things get hard.

He prefers to stay in the shadows and allow people the opportunity to sort their messes out themselves, after reminding them that he’s only a call away if they need him. He’s an excellent confident booster and appreciates those who are responsible.

These characters stayed not only in my mind but also in my heart. Each of them has such vivid personalities I can’t entirely capture in words. Their insecurities, struggles, and feelings were so real and incredibly relatable and easy to empathise with.

As conveyed by the title, music plays an important part in this T.V. serial, by allowing the characters to reminisce their college days and also allowing them a breather from their stressful life. There are thousands of words in the English language, and yet, I can’t string together enough of them to express how I felt when Jo Jung Seok sang Aloha.

The doctors use music not only as an outlet to release their frustrations, but also to express their thoughts and feelings. To heal. Listening to the songs and the covers made by the band lightened my heart. The labour they put into practising the songs made the moments more precious.

Through the music sessions in this T.V. serial, I found my affection for each character increasing. I found myself surprised to recognise some of the songs considering they are quite old, but I hummed along and felt the air around me thrum with glee as they sang.

I also found it rather ironic that Chae Song Hwa is considered to be a bad singer (her pre-routine of gulping down raw eggs fascinated me on an odd level) although the actress who plays her, Jeon Mi Do is a talented singer.

Therapeutic and well-written, I marvel at the writer’s ability to weave together arrays of mundane subplots into endearing bliss, leaving lingering positivity after every episode along with a yearning to watch more.

I’m a huge fan of writer Lee Woo-Jung’s Reply series and was hesitant to start this drama, afraid that it would fall short of expectations. But having watched it, I can safely say that those concerns were unnecessary, and whatever expectations I had were only exceeded. I couldn’t recognise any leading plotline of this drama. To me, it simply showcased the daily life of five doctors.

As it is character-driven, there is a slow progression of the drama, which needs some time getting adapted to. It was also a little hard trying to keep track of the multiple characters initially introduced, but within three episodes, I was able to get a hang of things. The dialogues were witty, impactful and sharp, capturing my attention from the beginning to the end. However, despite containing a plethora of humorous moments throughout this serial, there was a subdued layer that focused more on the community than the plot.

I must admit, however, that I found the first episode to be subtly chaotic and slow-paced. I couldn’t grasp the concepts or connect with the characters until the second episode, after which I had no qualms.

I loved the character arcs in this story. It was a pleasure to observe their journeys and diligence as various storylines diverged or amalgamated, how they grew as individuals while maintaining their core values. The flashback scenes were fascinating to watch and compare how they are now to how they used to be.

The cinematography was stunning. I was in awe at how different shades and tones of light could impact not only the setting of the scene but also the mood of the viewers.

I recommend “Hospital Playlist” to anyone who likes to watch T.V. serials possessing the perfect amount of drama, laughter, angst, warmth and love. This serial is a truly rare gem in a basket of rocks where the storylines are solid without being too predictable.

[scriptaed]

bygones of the sun. 05 (m)

genre: angst/fluff/smut || dance captain!hoseok, bad boy!au, uni!au

pairing: reader x hoseok;

length: 4.3k;

synopsis: Jung Hoseok was once the sweetheart of the school, the dance captain whom every girl, including you, can’t help but fall head over heels for. But like the force of the ever-glowing sun, everything that rises must also set. A year of inactivity later and he’s now the school’s resident bad boy. You’re a firm believer of allowing the past be the past, and yet you can’t help but wonder where the risen sun has gone into hiding—because perhaps its shadows have out-shined its own radiance.

a/n: a repost of my old fic!

The sun begins to set the minute you stride your way out of the dance room.

“Leaving already?” Keiko asks, looking up in the midst of rummaging through her duffle bag.

You pause, affixed a few feet from the door frame where Taehyung and Jungkook peer in from, “I, um... I have something urgent to do.”

Contrary to most people’s uninterested reactions, she raises both brows in genuine curiosity when Taehyung perks his ears and interjects with a chirp, “what’re you doing? Where are you going? Do you need help?”

“Uh, no,” you blurt out, furrowing your brows and eyeing the ceiling and door and everything but Taehyung’s pure circular and watchful eyes  in an attempt to fabricate some excuse. “I actually… forgot to lock my house.”

“You should hurry on back then,” Keiko grins, and the way only one corner of her lips lifts and a lighthearted laugh tumbles from her lips tells you your excuse might have been adequate in fooling the boys but not her.

“Yeah, I’ll see you later then,” you mumble under your breath with a pressed smile, nodding them goodbye despite seeing the pout adorning Taehyung’s lips. Ducking your head with your eyes glued to the floor, you shuffle in between Taehyung and Jungkook and through the door. Standing on each side of the door frame, you can practically feel their gazes following you as you inch forward step by step, wondering whether they’re staring at the disheveled state of your hair or the poor outfit choice you had thrown on in a hurry—

“Oh? Isn’t that Hoseok’s sweater?”

Shit, you had totally forgotten about it.

You whip your head around to find Jungkook staring at the black sweater which engulfs you from within, and it only takes you a split second and the strike of a hammering heartbeat to dismiss his suspicions, “no. It’s mine.”

“Nah, I don’t think Hoseok would lend her his clothes,” Taehyung waves his hands, “I mean, did you see them scowling at each other yesterday? Plus, it’s not like they’re dating. Right, Y/N?”

Your cheeks burn—imaginably, a bright shade of red—and you can’t help but run your fidgeting hands through your hair.

“Uh...” you hesitantly glimpse at Taehyung who smiles at you from ear to ear with cheeks raised before averting your eyes back to the ground. Technically speaking, you and Hoseok are no where near dating; in fact, the only reason you two are still acquainted is because of a stupid bet you made in the spur of a moment… or at least that’s what you tell yourself, because despite how many times you tell yourself otherwise, you know the reason you accepted his offer stems from curiosity, concern, and guilt over Hoseok’s hiatus as the school’s heartthrob of a dancer. So no, you two aren’t dating. It’s not like Hoseok would want to anyways, especially after hearing you mention the topic he despises the most. “...yeah.”

Jungkook cocks his head and cinches his brows, eyes never leaving the obviously and excessively oversized sweater, “oh, really? Sorry… my bad.”

“No, it’s fine,” you shake your head and hastily excuse yourself, “see you later.”

Jungkook slowly nods his head, waving you goodbye as you lower your head and quickly make your departure. And despite verbally dismissing their initial suspicions, you can still feel their piercing gaze boring a hole into the back of your head as they questioningly glance at each other with a shrug of the shoulders.

Of course they’d notice; what were you even thinking when you first threw on this damn curse—albeit warm and comfy—of a sweater?

“Oh? Where are you going, Y/N?” you lift your head to find Jimin striding his way towards you from across the hall.

“Home. I have to do something urgent,” you nervously tuck a strand of hair behind your left ear.

Jimin lightly laughs at your reply, nodding his head and passing by you only to turn on his heels right when he does so, “hey, I didn’t want to ask you this in front of the other two in case you got embarrassed, but isn’t that Hoseok’s sweater?”

Your eyes pop as you quickly whirl around to turn your back on Jimin and hide your cheeks which scorches with heat equivalent to blazing flames, because it’s not like his attempt at sparing you from embarrassment makes anything different; in fact, all it does is commence the second round of embarrassment for you. And when you think about all three of the boys noticing your choice of clothing while everything goes unnoticed by Keiko, you conclude the three boys truly are too similar for your own good.

You gulp down the knot in your throat before exclaiming, “for the last time, no!”

“Okay! Have a safe walk home, alright?” he calls out in the midst of his laughs.

Throwing on the hood which indeed belongs to the one and only infamous Jung Hoseok, a fact which flushes overwhelmingly burning blood to your cheeks, especially when you’re bombarded by the scent of clean mint and spice, or rather, the scent of him, you scurry down the halls without another glance back over your shoulder.

But once you’ve scampered out of the building and into the cold, harsh air of the outside, away and hidden from curious eyes of the dwindling numbers of passerbys in the school, and once you’ve taken your final step out of the hall leading to the dance practice room where light seeps through the doors from late night sessions, you find the sun has finally set.

Street lights line and illuminate the sidewalk in its embrace of warm and welcoming hues of golden bronze, providing more than enough safety for you to roam around in the neighborhood, but the hastening of your footsteps and the panicking thoughts flooding through your mind tell you otherwise; after seeing where your careless curiosity and actions had gotten you into with Jimin and the boys, you devise a simple enough plan to complete on your own terms. You have to get home, change into anything but this damn sweatshirt, and get yourself to a state presentable to a boy who’s soon to come barging into your house uninvited—all to be done before Hoseok arrives.

But when you’re pacing down the streets with your arms crossed and your lungs huffing out quickened breaths showcased by the script of the cold, night air, a part of you dreads for the moment when you’re forced to discard yourself of this sweater. Unlike your bare legs, feet, and lips which quiver in the wrath of the freezing night, your arms, chest, and the entirety of your upper body remains wrapped in the warmth of his cotton sweater. As much as you hate to admit it, the scent which radiates from his sweater provides you with an odd sense of home and security as it shelters you from the weather and intermixes with the scent of freshly watered grass and petrichor.

And when you’re lost in your thoughts elicited by the soft, warm fabric of his sweater, you find yourself walking up your driveway when someone’s voice captures your diverted attention.

“About time you arrive!” a familiarly low yet bright voice calls out to you. Lifting your head, your eyes widen and a harsh pang of your heart against your chest floods you with panic as every part of you hopes he doesn’t notice the sweater you have draped over your body. Luckily, his gaze locks with yours, unamused and tired from waiting, and yet glistening ever so slightly at your arrival. With his body leaning against the wall by your door, he crosses his arms and taps his fingers against them like he always does, “so, where were you?”

“Is that any of your business?” you answer, rummaging through the pockets of the sweater to find your door key.

“Wow, sassy right off the bat,” Hoseok chortles, lifting a plastic bag filled with whatever he had brought with him, “and here I am, a gentleman, bringing you, who should’ve been bedridden, some food.”

Waving him off, you scoff at his remark and fumble with the keys until you realize how close he’s standing to you. And no, it isn’t the proximity of his heat radiating off your already burning cheeks that sends you into panic, but it’s the fact that he’s so close to noticing the sweater of his on you and the thought of a smug smile spreading across his lips when he registers the thought of you, who supposedly, and most certainly, despises him, putting on his clothes that causes you to interject when you can practically feel his eyes scanning you up and down.

“Well, at least I know you weren’t out on a date with some other guy,” he laughs, “or at least not with that outfit—”

“I went to the grocery store,” you blurt out, keeping your eyes on the door and your hands clutching the doorknob.

“Uh… huh…” Hoseok hums, head turning and leaning against the door frame only to meet the hood draping over your own head. “And so why are you coming back empty handed?”

Well shit, maybe he isn’t as dull as you thought after all.

“The store was closed,” you mutter.

“...fair enough,” Hoseok stands there in silence, with the exception of his fingers pattering against his gray sweater, each second which ticks by sends your heart racing in suspense. “By the way, why are you all buried up like that? C’mon, you can’t hate me that much, can you?”

“No, it’s possible,” you quip.

He snorts at your response before he coos, “but I haven’t seen your face in a while! I miss you!”

Hoseok’s hand reaches for your hood, his palm placing flat against the top of your head as he gently attempts to nudge it down only to have you stubbornly grabbing both sides of your hood to prevent it from falling; it’s not like you think you look bad per say, but having Hoseok specifically request for a glimpse of you makes you all the more self conscious. You’re sick. Your nose is red from excessive blowing of tissues, your eyes suffer from dark circles, and your hair is too much of a mess to present to others… but the thing is, none of those thoughts crossed your mind when you marched through school just a few minutes ago. So what is the difference now?

The two of you engage in a mini tug of war challenge until suddenly, all movement comes to a halt and you can no longer feel the force of his hand other than having it rest comfortably against the top of your head.

You can hear him smirk, “...hey, isn’t this my sweater?”

And it’s at that moment that you’re almost certain your heart had stopped and you could no longer breathe.

“No,” you mutter under your breath, finally twisting the doorknob and barging through your door. Whirling around, you attempt to slam the door closed before he could enter, but all efforts are fruitless when he skillfully sticks his foot in the small slit between the door and the remaining distance to the door frame.

“No, I’m pretty sure it is,” he erupts into cackles, “are you really going to shut me out of your house because you’re too scared to admit you’re attached to my sweater? Even when I brought you some food, thinking you were sick and not prancing around outside in my clothes?”

You grit your teeth and bury yourself and your reddening cheeks further into the hoodie, your entire body heating up at his teasing, “shut up or I’m going to lock you out.”

“Weren’t you going to do that anyways?” he quips from the other side of the door. You can just imagine the smug smile plastered across his face. “Open up or people will wonder why I’m at your house and I’m just going to have to tell them you stole my sweater from me!”

Whipping the door open, you turn to storm back into your house without sparing another glimpse at Hoseok, “fine, you win. Close and lock the door, will you?”

“Yes, love,” he chirps mockingly and does as you instruct as you roll your eyes.

Plopping down on your couch, you bury yourself under a bundle of bedsheets, covering half your face up until only your eyes can be seen. Hoseok’s heavy footsteps taps against your wooden floor and echoes across your house, and while you usually would scold Junghwa for jumping around in your house so loudly, you can’t help but become entranced by the eloquence of his steps akin to the heavy beats of a song blasting through small speakers of the dance room. And plus, as much as you hate to admit it, you like noticing these small things about Hoseok that others may not get to see.

“So are you ever going to explain to me why you’re wearing my sweater?” he asks, setting the plastic bag hooked on his slender, soft looking fingers onto the coffee table before you and plopping down next to you on the couch.

“Well, are you ever going to tell me why you quit the dance club?”

He pauses, and you can catch him pursing his lips in the corner of your eyes, “...touché. But I didn’t quit, I’m just taking a break.”

“Same thing,” you snort.

“And it’s not like I’m never going to tell you. C’mon, I promised you I’d tell you as long as you don’t fall for me,” he laughs before smirking, “but seeing how you’re already wearing my clothes, I don’t know if I’ll ever have to tell you—”

“Do you want to stay or not?” you groan, burying your face further underneath your blanket as you shut your eyes in sheer embarrassment.

Why does he always love to tease you like this? But despite the fact that your cheeks burn so brightly and your entire body radiates off heat from the increase of blood flow, you take pleasure in being teased by Hoseok. In a way, it makes you two that much closer, somewhat like friends, and somehow you start to wonder if you’re the only one he teases like this. But when you think about it more, you remember he’s known for playing with girls. You can’t let your guard down. Plus, he’s right about this little bet of yours. If you want the answer to your questions, then you’d have to win. And flustering like this is most definitely a step in the wrong direction.

“Fine, I do, I do. I’ll stop teasing now,” he chuckles, hands lifting to the hem of the blanket resting on the bridge of your nose. His knuckles graze against your already burning cheeks, sending blazes of fire across the surface of your skin as you gulp and your heart nearly jumps from your chest. So when he gently tugs on the blanket to tuck underneath your chin, you’re caught off guard and the blanket easily slips from your gripping fingers. And for the first time in a few days, you peer up to lock eyes with his own soft ones, too close for your own good. He gives you that charming lopsided grin of his, “no, really, stop covering yourself with all of that.”

“It’s your fault for not giving me a warning before coming over,” you mumble, barely able to breathe when the two of you speak eye to eye. “My face isn’t even presentable in this state. Sorry if you’re disappointed—”

“No, that’s not what I’m looking for,” he chuckles, cinching his brows at your remark. “I’m telling you to stop covering your face because I’m genuinely worried you’re going to suffocate underneath all that. Aren’t you hot?”

“...not really,” you lie, averting your eyes when the burning of your cheeks only push you closer to brink of sweating right then and there.

“Alright, if you’re too attached to my sweater to take it off, just feel free to say so. I’ll lend you my other clothes if you really want, ow,” he breaks out into a fit of laughs when you punch his arm and turns his wide eyes to meet your glaring ones, “hey, I’m just joking! I’m just trying to convince you to take that damn jacket off! It’s hot as hell in here!”

“But I look like a mess!” you exclaim.

“No, you don’t!” he scoffs in disbelief. “You look damn perfect to me! Now give me this blanket!”

Huffing at his persistence, you remove the hood from your head and throw the blanket off to the side. A rush of cold air brushes against your bare skin and relieves it from the previous heat of your sheets. Hoseok’s right, he could see right through you, because you really were dying underneath all of those sheets and clothing. And so of course, you cross your arms and refuse to admit it, but that doesn’t stop him from widening his eyes in surprise before smugly smiling to himself in triumph.

“See? Your hair looks effortlessly perfect. Your bare face is as breathtaking as ever. You look great, so stop hiding that pretty face of your from me, alright?” he quickly says, turning away to occupy himself with the contents of bags.

His sweet words come to him so naturally that you’re not sure if you should be ashamed of yourself for being touched. And even though your heart skips at his endless compliments, it’s impossible to deny the juxtaposition of the drop in your stomach when you realize you were looking for more of a reaction. What exactly were you looking for? Were you hoping his jaws would drop and all air would be knocked from his lungs at the mere sight of you? Aren’t you falling too quickly for his way with words and dancing yourself right into the palm of his hands?

“So why’re you here?” you take a deep breath and sigh.

“To feed my sick girlfriend,” he dips a plastic spoon into the bowl of congee, blows gently across the steam which evaporates into the air, and brings it to your lips.

You roll your eyes, “don’t call me that. We’re not even dating.”

“Aren’t we technically dating? Open up, love,” Hoseok furthermore teases, a snicker coming from his lips as he pushes the spoon against your closed lips. “Ahhh. Or are you going to be a baby and need me to pretend this is an airplane?”

“I have a cold. It’s not like I don’t have arms or some—”

—in goes the spoon.

“Good girl,” Hoseok coos, removing the spoon from your lips and returning it to the bowl of congee.

You hate to say it, but the entire situation and vibe he gives off would’ve given anyone, including you, the wrong impression. Here he is, a casual gray sweater and mustard colored snapback thrown on backwards in a haste to meet you, someone he’s supposedly seeing all for a silly bet, and feeding you some homemade food to his sick pretend girlfriend. Everything about him, his teasing, and the warm atmosphere of tonight screams of more than a fake relationship. But does he notice it? Does he notice the change in the air? The fact that he’s acting so damn casual and calm around you in your own house angers you all the more. Glimpsing back over his shoulder, he only laughs at your silent death glare.

“What?” he raises a brow.

“Nothing,” you mutter. Quick, think of something to get back at him. “Do you want to attend your club’s annual spring boot camp?”

“First off,” Hoseok frowns, placing the spoon back into the bowl and leaning back into the couch, “it’s not my club. Second, no, I don’t.”

“Why not?” you question, brows furrowing. If you’re being completely honest with yourself, a part of you still longs for the day Hoseok returns to the stage, and the bootcamp sounds perfect for that. “Jimin says they’re completely behind schedule and they don’t know what to do without their dance captain.”

“They’ll be fine. They can ask Keiko anyways,” he deadpans, glimpsing at you before adding, “Keiko’s our last dance captain.”

“...Keiko?” you repeat. It’s dumb for this to finally reoccur to you, but you had totally forgotten how Hoseok had first asked you out on a date due to a bet he had made with his own friends. You’re just a pawn in the midst of his plans in acquiring feelings from his ultimate goal. “...do you still talk to her?”

He quirks a brow, “not particularly.”

Odd. A contradiction to Keiko’s words. One of them had to be lying, and if you’re being fair, Hoseok is the more likely one.

“Just wondering, but do you ever regret quitting dance? Don’t you regret letting people down? Or is there anyone you wish you had gotten to know better?” you gulp when the words slip from you before you could take them back. “People from the club? People who were going to join the club?”

He glances at you with a raised brow before turning away to stare at the window absent of the usual sunlight flooding through across the two of you. “No. It’s not like I remember every single member.”

That’s a lie. As people had fawned over him for, he always knew the name of every single member.

“I don’t miss having people watching me dance. I don’t miss the stage.”

Another lie.

“I don’t miss trying so hard to recruit new members only to be turned down when they don’t show up the next day at practice,” Hoseok mutters, and you’re pierced with a sense of guilt. Is he alluding to you…? Does he remember you? Does he remember the fateful night you two had spent together only to let him come crashing down the next day? Or were you just one of many? “...but I do wonder where she went.”

She?

“Who—”

 “But let’s not talk about that anymore,” he gives you a small, lopsided smile, “you promised me, after all.”

Ah, something about his smile irks you to the point that your chest aches and your guts twist in pain. His smile. It isn’t genuine. It isn’t as genuine as it used to be. 

Hoseok chuckles in the midst of the silence, “actually… come to think of it, I did give you a warning. I texted you fifteen minutes before coming over. Why didn’t you reply?”

Looking over his shoulder, he finds you staring at him in silence. Hoseok quirks a brow at the parting of your lips that fails to utter a single explanation.

“...I didn’t receive your texts,“ you blink and he reciprocates your blank stare.

“Oh, really?” Hoseok raises a brow, eyes trailing to the coffee table where your phone lies.

Your phone.

Hoseok.

Your phone.

Hoseok.

Glimpsing between your phone and Hoseok, you immediately spring forward in a vain attempt to retrieve your device, for when you’re up and on your feet, you realize your phone is right in Hoseok’s hands. Raising his hands up above his head and high into the air where you fail to reach despite numerous jumps, Hoseok takes his own phone from his pocket to dial in your number.

And sure enough, his number and contact name pops up on your screen.

“Ew, Hoseok?!” he exclaims, mouth gaping at the name you had given him on your phone. “When did you change this because last time I remember it was just Hoseok?!”

“I changed it because it more accurately portrays my feelings towards you, hmph,” you stick your tongue out at him and snatch your phone back.

“Says the one wearing my sweater!”

“Hey, you promised you’d stop!”

“Then change it!” he exclaims.

The two of you wrestle around, tugging and pulling and pushing every which way in an attempt to win over the phone. But alas, as fate has it, the phone somehow flies off into the air across the room and the two of you collapse back onto the couch—you underneath Hoseok and Hoseok over you.

He’s too close. His nose just an inch from grazing against yours and his lips just a couple of inches from meeting yours. His eyes gaze right down and straight into your own wide ones, except his is unfazed. You gulp. You can feel his heat radiating off his body and onto yours, his hands by your each side of your head and holding him up from collapsing onto you. His heavy, mint scented breathing brushes across your lips, sending tingles down your spine, and his usual deodorant overwhelming you in a cloud of a dazed moment.

“Come to think of it…” he says, not budging a single inch. “You do look strikingly familiar…”

Your eyes pop open and he smirks in reaction, leaning in closer and closer by the second. Is he really going in for it...? You panic for what to do before your instincts calls for you to place a hand against his chest and push him away, “get off me already!”

Lifting his cap to run a hand through his hair and reposition his snapback, he chuckles and leans over to grab another spoonful of congee, “I was just joking around. It’s not like I was actually gonna kiss you or anything. Now finish this food or you’re wasting my efforts.”

He might’ve been joking around about the kiss, but something tells you he’s not quite joking around about the remark which slipped from his lips unknowingly.

And just like that, you spend the rest of your day with Hoseok. Teasing, laughing, smacking, and just being the two polar opposites that you are akin to the sun and the moon until the day ends the second the clock strikes midnight.