#and getting this out of the way makes it feel fair to post again so i might be able to actually make something with all this soon

[bellart]

What is Dick Grayson’s problem? Part 1 (attachment style in part 2, dysfunctional family role in part 3)

Disclaimer: I don’t think any of these were written with intention, I’m just diagnosing for fun based on what symptoms are canon. I know a lot of people just ignore characterizations and plotlines that they think are out of character, which is fair because there are hundreds of writers writing for a single character, but I like to consider as much as I can canon, and coincidentally, Dick’s “OOC” moments come in episodes!

Bipolar 1 disorder

This usually requires a genetic predisposition, and we don’t know much about his parents, but we do know that his mom ran away to join the circus as a young adult according to post crisis canon. I think that was a mania spurred decision, but that’s just a headcanon. Traumatic childhoods are also usually a factor in Bipolar, and Dick obviously has his share of trauma. Bipolar doesn’t present itself until early adulthood, but there can be some signs in adolescence, like excessive energy and emotional intensity, which can be seen all the way back to the golden age.

I don’t think he has a real manic episode until he’s 21 during Total Chaos, but before that he displayed possible signs of a depressive episode. Honestly, it would be a fair argument to say that all of these are just caused by grief because they follow Jason and Joey’s death, but grief could also trigger an actual depressive episode, so I don’t have a solid opinion on whether it was an actual episode or not. I think most of Dick’s episodes are manic (not depressive) anyway.

His depression presents itself as melancholy, self hatred, agitation, insomnia, and impaired decision making. He isolated himself from his loved ones, had aggressive mood swings with Bruce, and lashed out at Tim.

Not long after this, a couple months pass and Joey Wilson dies, and Dick’s mood drops again, showing rumination and self hatred. He also has a common habit of self harm via picking fights with the intention of getting hurt.

Then Total Chaos begins and triggers his first manic episode, which are defined by excessive energy, grandiosity, impulsivity, hypersexuality, emotional intensity, and poor decision making.

He drastically changes his appearance and expresses sexuality more openly and crudely than every other characterization of him previously. He also has an extreme lapse in judgement/observation by falling for Mirage’s deception, which is another mania symptom.

At first he is upset with her for deceiving him and Kory, but randomly changes his tune and starts going out with her on dates and dancing at clubs, even commenting on her appearance in front of Kory. He’s doing this as a part of a greater scheme, but it’s still random, impulsive, out of character, and debatably hypersexual. Plus, the scheme was dodgy and not even necessary, while hurting Kory’s feelings at the same time. I think this is where the grandiosity and impaired judgement comes in, as he ignores her feelings and assumes that his decisions are best. He also has excessive energy and rarely sleeps, making Kory come out and dance at 2 am.

Also, let it be noted that I know any of these actions on their own might not be too crazy, but Wolfman spent a long time characterizing Dick as quiet, smart, kind, attentive to Kory’s feelings, and extremely monogamous and uncomfortable with sexual attention, so compared to that, this comes off very manic. And for the love of god I am not victim blaming it is possible for him to be behaving strangely and still be a victim at the same time.

Not long after this, he impulsively proposes to Kory and they try to marry almost immediately after. Then he suddenly quits the team he’s been leading for three years (nine years if you forget the small break in between Teen Titans and New Teen Titans), breaks up with Kory, and becomes Batman, and then has another big fight with Bruce. These are just more impulsive decisions and inappropriate emotional intensity that comes with mania.

Two years after this (in universe), I think he has another manic episode triggered by the stress of the earthquake. This starts with him working three jobs, as he’s on the tail end of the Titans 1999 run, while working as Nightwing in Bludhaven, and working as a cop at the same time. He rarely sleeps or stops moving for months. He makes poor and impulsive decisions like fighting Deathstroke one on one as a civilian and immediately leaves the hospital to continue after getting shot. Everyone in his life is asking him to slow down and rest, and he disregards their opinions, assuming he can do the impossible. He also pulls a lot of stupid/poorly thought out stunts as a cop that compromise his identity, which Babs later calls him out on.

Killing the Joker is an obvious and extreme example of emotional intensity and poor impulse control. He had some possibly psychotic symptoms during this time like frequently hallucinating Jason, which can also happen during an extreme episode.

Additionally, I would argue that him having sex with Helena and kissing Selina during the beginning of this episode was a sign of hypersexuality.

He also has a big fight with Bruce during “Bruce Wayne: Murderer/Fugitive,” but that’s context relative. But I do also think it’s odd how quickly Dick escalated it and turned it physical.

He then has a depressive episode triggered by Donna’s death, as he displays isolation, self loathing, irritability, and frequently lashes out at loved ones during his time in the outsiders.

Eventually, the depression lifts and his next episode is a wave of hypomania, which is similar to mania but it only lasts a few days. I think this happens in the middle of the Blockbuster arc, right before Barbara breaks up with him. He has high energy levels, can’t keep still, rapid speech, lack of self awareness, risky behavior, and grandiosity all packed into a couple issues between him crashing his bike and getting dumped.

(I love this issue sm I have never seen a more hypomanic person)

Very shortly after this, he has a quick drop triggered by Blockbuster bombing his apartment. He has feelings of emptiness or hopelessness, irritability, loss of interest or pleasure in normal activities, insomnia, anxiety, feelings of worthlessness and guilt, poor decision making, suicidal thoughts and actions, and recurring thoughts of death. I can’t put that many pictures in one post but if I could I would basically just screenshot every single page from issues #89-116 of Nightwing 1996. Between his apartment exploding, letting Catalina kill Blockbuster, sexual assault, following her around as a traumatized wet cat for a week, working as a mob enforcer, working with Deathstroke, and watching his city get nuked, he was not himself and severely depressed.

Then he goes away for a year so I’ll just assume he was normal, but when he comes back he’s written by someone who does Not get him, but it comes across as hypomania to me. I’m talking about his whole relationship with Cheyenne and his fight with Jason Todd basically. Hypersexuality, grandiosity, and irritability.

And then another depressive episode triggered by Bruce fake dying before New 52, and I barely know anything after that so goodbye 🫶

Making inconsistent characterization work feels like a puzzle sometimes and it’s fun but the one thing I won’t accept is a fuck ass retcon so I will NOT be saying he cheated bc he was manic bc his ass did NAWTTT cheat.

[oikawaisincrisis]

Built on sandcastles ~ D.S.

Pairing: Daichi Sawamura x Suga’s sister!Reader

Summary: He’s always been your brother’s best friend, he’s always been there from sandcastles to high-school crushes. But somewhere along the way, he became so much more.

CW (content warning): Reader is Suga’s little sister (a year younger than him and Daichi), jealous Daichi, very slightly angst, mutual pining, mentions of a physical fight, not much more this is 99% tooth rotting fluff.

AN: Hi guys! So here’s the second instalment on the childhood series I talked about making on my last Atsumu work. Since Daichi is going last on my medieval AU masterlist (a crime in my opinion) I thought about making this to post something for me and the other 5 Daichi’s fans out there! 🫵🏻 English isn’t my first language so I’m sorry if there’s any mistakes. Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think! :)

Requests are open so feel free to send yours! (you can check the list of characters I write for on my pinned post)

Masterlist

Sandcastles (Ages 4 and 5)

The playground was loud with the kind of wild, half-screamed laughter only kids could get away with. Metal clanged, sneakers pounded on the concrete, and a ball thudded against the fence before bouncing away unnoticed. You sat by yourself in the sandbox, a little island of quiet in a world moving too fast around you.

Sugawara’s friends were over again, he was already in first grade, and that made him cool. Too cool, apparently, to let his baby sister join their soccer game. You didn’t mind, not really. You were only four, and four-year-olds were apparently not old enough to keep up.

So you dug into the dry sand with your tiny plastic shovel, determined not to cry even though your throat felt tight. You’d been trying to build a castle, but it kept falling apart, slumping into sad piles like your mood.

“You’re doing it wrong.”

The voice made you look up. A boy with round cheeks, sun-warmed skin, and messy dark hair stood just outside the sandbox, a soccer ball tucked under one arm. You blinked at him. He wasn’t your brother, but you’d seen him around. He was always with Koushi.

“I’m not.” You said, lips wobbling even though you were trying to sound tough.

He tilted his head. “You kind of are.”

You crossed your arms. “You’re mean.”

“I’m Daichi.” He corrected instead, then stepped into the sandbox like he belonged there. “Can I help?”

You stared at him for a long second, then nodded slowly. His smile was wide and toothy, and you didn’t know it yet, but that smile would become one of your favorite things in the world.

“I’m building a castle.” You explained seriously, gesturing to the sad pile in front of you.

Daichi sat cross-legged beside you and squinted down at it. “It looks more like a mountain.”

You pouted.

“Okay, okay! Castle. Right.” He started scooping up handfuls of sand and packing them into lumpy towers. They were terrible, worse than yours and he kept knocking them over with his elbows. But he made you laugh.

When he managed to accidentally collapse one of your towers for the third time, he dropped his chin into his hands and sighed dramatically. “I’m really bad at this.”

“You’re terrible.” You agreed through a giggle, and that only made him grin harder.

“You know what would make it better?” He asked suddenly. “A moat. Castles always have moats.”

Together, you spent the next twenty minutes digging a crooked, shallow circle around your “castle” Daichi got sand in his socks and down the back of his shirt. You both ended up dirty and sun-warmed and happy.

When Koushi came running over to tell Daichi you were going home soon, you felt a little pang in your chest.

“Bye!” You said, waving your sandy hand.

“Bye!” He said, then paused. “You build really good castles.”

Your face lit up.

That was the very first time Daichi Sawamura made your heart feel a little bit bigger.

——————————————————————————

Skinned knees (ages 6 and 7)

“TAG! You’re it!”

“No fair, I wasn’t ready!”

Daichi bolted across the grass, arms pumping, sneakers kicking up dirt. He was fast, always had been, but the older kids had longer legs, and that meant he had to try harder to keep up. He liked that. It made him feel strong. Grown-up.

Until, of course, he didn’t see the root sticking up in the grass. His foot caught. His body pitched forward, and he hit the ground hard.

“DAICHI!” Koushi yelled.

“I’m fine!” He called back instantly, sitting up fast even though his knees burned and stung. His palms were scraped too, small pebbles sticking to the torn skin. It hurt.

But boys didn’t cry, right?

Still, his lip was trembling a little as he brushed at his knee. There was blood. Not a lot, but enough to make his stomach feel weird. He looked up and saw Sugawara running toward him, panic written all over his face.

And then he saw you, a small blur of pink and pigtails breaking into a run across the grass, your little shoes thudding hard. Daichi quickly looked down again.

“Daichi!” You called, breathless by the time you dropped to your knees beside him. “You’re bleeding!”

“‘M okay.” He mumbled.

But you were already digging into the tiny pink Hello Kitty pouch you carried everywhere. Out came a tissue, slightly crumpled but clean, and a bandaid decorated with sparkly stars.

You dabbed carefully at his knee, tongue peeking out in concentration. “You’re not okay.” You said matter-of-factly. “But it’s okay to cry, you know.”

He looked at you, wide-eyed.

“You’re allowed to cry.” You repeated gently, and then, without warning, you blew softly on his scraped knee.

Daichi blinked fast. He didn’t cry, not really, but his shoulders dropped, the tight knot in his chest loosening just a bit.

You peeled the bandaid and smoothed it over the cut with gentle fingers.

“There!” You said beaming up at him. “All better.”

And he looked at you like you’d just fixed the world.

——————————————————————————

The recital (ages 10 and 11)

Your heart was beating too fast.

You stood just off-stage, fingers twitching with nerves. The recital hall was bigger than you remembered. The polished black piano sat center stage like a challenge, and the rows of folding chairs were filled with strangers. Parents. Teachers. Judges.

Not your parents, though.

They wanted to come. They really did. But Koushi had a fever over 102, and your mom couldn’t leave his side. Your dad stayed too, and though you told them it was okay, your voice had cracked on the word.

You knew it wasn’t their fault but your stomach still twisted with disappointment as your name was called.

The walk to the piano felt miles long. You sat on the bench, placed your hands on the keys, and took a shaky breath.

You started to play. The first few notes were hesitant, your fingers stumbling, but muscle memory took over. You got lost in the melody, pouring your heart into the piece you’d practiced for weeks. It wasn’t perfect, but it was yours. When the final note faded, there was polite applause.

You stood, bowed, and left the stage with your hands trembling. Your throat burned. You weren’t going to cry, not here, not in front of everyone but it was close.

You stepped out into the hallway, wiping at your eyes before they could spill over.

“Hey.”

You jumped.

Daichi stood there, awkward in a button-up shirt that didn’t fit him quite right and jeans a little too long. His hair was combed for once. He held a crumpled bouquet of flowers, yellow daisies and baby’s breath tied together with a string.

Your mouth dropped open. “What are you doing here?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “Koushi said you had your recital. Your parents couldn’t come, so I… figured someone should.”

Your hands curled around the bouquet automatically. “You came?”

“I was a little late.” He admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “But I saw the whole thing. You were amazing.”

You blinked fast. “I messed up at the start.”

“But you kept going. And you didn’t run offstage crying or throw the piano stool or anything. So, yeah. Amazing.”

You laughed, half-choked and half-sniffled. “That’s a bit dumb.”

“Maybe.” He grinned. “But I brought flowers.”

You stared at the yellow petals, heart warm and aching. The hallway was quiet now, just the two of you. You didn’t say anything for a moment. “Thank you.”

Daichi looked at you, softer than usual. “Anytime.”

And somehow you knew he meant it.

——————————————————————————

Fever (ages 11 and 12)

It was supposed to be just a quick errand.

Koushi was stuck finishing an assignment, and Daichi had come home from the overnight school camp sick, like really sick. Fever, sore throat, barely-talking kind of sick. His mom called in to say he’d be home for at least two days. And with the teachers sending over homework, someone had to drop it off.

So, Koushi looked at you. "Please?"

You grumbled a little, but truthfully? You didn’t mind.

You arrived at the Sawamuras’ place after school, your backpack heavier than usual and the plastic folder of assignments crumpling slightly in your grip. Daichi’s mom answered the door, soft-eyed and frazzled, thanking you a little too many times as she let you in.

“He’s upstairs.” She said. “Been sleeping most of the day, but maybe hearing a friend’s voice will help.”

You didn’t correct her. You weren’t sure what to call it friendship didn’t feel like enough anymore. But it was easier that way. Koushi surely was Daichi’s friend but you weren’t exactly sure what you were to him.

Daichi’s room was warm and dim when you pushed the door open gently.

He looked… awful. His face was flushed, dark hair stuck to his forehead, mouth slightly parted as he breathed raggedly through a stuffed-up nose. A cold cloth lay half-slid off his head, and the blanket was tangled around his legs.

You set your bag down quietly and crossed over to the bed. “Hey.” You whispered. “It’s me.”

No response.

You bit your lip, then climbed into the chair by his bedside. You picked up the fallen cloth and stood to re-wet it from the bowl on the nightstand, wringing it out and gently placing it back across his forehead.

Still nothing.

You sighed, then leaned your chin into your hand and began to talk. About school. About your teachers. About how Koushi nearly got detention for talking back to the gym coach. You told him about the vending machine that swallowed your money and about how your lunch had tasted weird but not bad, and how the clouds looked like mashed potatoes that day.

At some point, you looked down and realized he’d turned his face slightly toward your voice.

You reached for his hand. It was warm too warm, but he didn’t let go.

You stayed there, fingers wrapped around his and words spilling quietly into the air. You didn’t even realize how much time had passed until Daichi muttered something under his breath.

You froze.

“What was that?”

He twitched slightly. A soft, strained sound left him. “...’m sorry…”

You frowned, leaning closer. “Daichi?”

His eyes stayed closed, breath shallow. Then, barely above a whisper,your name. Just your name, drifting out like an anchor in a fever dream. Your heart climbed right into your throat.

“I’m here.” You whispered back instinctively. “I’ve got you.”

He didn’t reply again. But his hand never let go and you swore he held on tighter for a moment.

——————————————————————————

The quiet thread (quiet moments over the years)

You weren’t quite sure when it started to feel like something more.

There wasn’t a single moment, but a series of them, threaded together like tiny lights on a string, warm and blinking and easy to miss unless you really looked.

At his matches, you were always in the front row. Screaming his name when he served, clapping until your palms stung. You learned the game slowly, enough to keep up. Enough to see the way his eyes found you first when he landed a good spike. Always you.

At movie nights with the team, he always saved you a seat. Never said it outright, but it was always there, the spot beside him, the bowl of popcorn between you, the way he’d tilt the box of juice toward you first before taking one himself.

Once, Nishinoya tried to take your usual seat as a joke. Daichi didn’t even say anything, just gave him a look. That was all it took.

Noya grinned. “Okay, okay, got it. ‘Princess’ seat.’”

You rolled your eyes.

Daichi didn’t say a word.

But he smiled when you sat beside him anyway.

On rainy days, he’d offer his umbrella before you could ask. “You can give it back tomorrow.” He’d say, rubbing the back of his neck while the rain soaked his shoulders. You gave it back the next day every time. And somehow… it always smelled like him after.

When your cat died, he walked three blocks to your house even though it was a school night. Said he brought homework from Koushi but he never opened the folder. He just sat with you, quiet, legs crossed on your bedroom floor as you cried. When he finally left that night, your pillow smelled like his hoodie.

There was nothing romantic about it. Not yet. It wasn’t flirting. It was more. It was trust, built soft and slow. It was knowing that you could fall asleep in the middle of a movie night and wake up with a blanket over your shoulders and Daichi’s jacket folded beneath your head. It was brushing hands accidentally in the popcorn bowl and not pulling away. It was watching him laugh and not knowing why it made your chest ache.

It was all the things neither of you had words for. Not yet, but something was coming.

And somewhere in the space between childhood and whatever came next, the two of you had become each other’s safest place.

——————————————————————————

What it feels like (ages 15 and 16)

You never knew that watching someone get confessed to could hurt.

It was spring, and the hallways smelled like too many flowers and teenage hope. First-years were already rushing to get their chocolates ready for Valentine’s Day, and second-years were just starting to get bold with handwritten letters and awkward hallway meetups.

Daichi was tall and broad-shouldered by then Captain material, dependable and easy to talk to, with a smile that made even the teachers melt.

You saw it happen again and again: a girl standing with her hands clenched around a ribbon-tied box, red-cheeked and trembling. And Daichi, polite as ever, bowing his head with that apologetic smile that never quite reached his eyes.

“I’m really sorry. Thank you, though.”

And the girl would wilt a little, whisper it was okay, then rush away.

He never accepted. Not once.

And you didn’t know why it twisted your stomach the way it did. Why your heart sped up every time someone even looked at him like that. Why you caught yourself searching his face for a reaction he never gave. Why part of you felt strangely relieved when he turned them all down.

It made no sense. He wasn’t yours. He never had been. Still, every time he smiled at someone else, even just to say “no”, something inside you clenched like a fist.

You didn’t have a word for it back then. But it lived in you, quiet and constant. A dull, aching gravity.

——————————————————————————

The fight (ages 16 and 17)

It started with a name you’d gotten tired of hearing. Kento Takagi. He was a second-year, he was tall, annoying, way too smug. The first time he asked you out, you were polite. The second time, you were firm.

The third time, you ignored him completely. By the sixth time, you were one deep breath away from shoving your school shoe directly into his face.

You were standing just outside the school gates, trying to pack your books into your bag, when he approached again. “Come on, just one date.” He said, reaching for your wrist when you turned away. “You’re not even giving me a chance-”

“Let go.” You snapped.

That’s when you heard the sharp voice from behind you.

“She said let go.”

You turned. Sugawara got there first, stepping between you and Kento like a calm wall of sunshine and thinly veiled menace. “You’ve asked her enough times. She’s not interested. Take the hint.”

You could’ve hugged him.

But it was Daichi who arrived seconds later, face unreadable, steps deliberate.

Kento scoffed. “Seriously? You’ve got two bodyguards now?”

And that was when he grabbed your arm again. That was his mistake.

Daichi shoved between you before you could react, his hand closing around Kento’s wrist like steel. “Are you deaf?” His voice low and cold, “She told you to let go.”

Kento sneered. “What’s it to you? You her boyfriend or something?”

It happened too fast. Daichi’s fist swung clean and hard - crack - straight into Kento’s jaw. The other boy stumbled backward, clutching his face, spitting curses and blood.

“DAICHI!” Sugawara shouted.

Your heart dropped. “What- ?!”

And then the teachers were there, and everything blurred, raised voices, hands pulling them apart, Kento wailing about “assault” and Daichi just standing there, jaw clenched, breathing hard, knuckles bleeding.

——————————————————————————

The walk home (later that day)

Daichi got detention. Of course he did.

One week. After school. Report filed, parents notified.

You waited for him anyway.

You sat on the stone steps just outside the gym, watching the sun dip low behind the school roof. You weren’t sure if he’d even want you there after what happened, but your legs stayed glued to the steps.

He came out just as the light started to fade.

“Hey.” You said.

He paused. “You waited?”

“Duh.” You muttered, standing. “Who else is gonna yell at you for punching a guy like an idiot?”

A smile tugged at his mouth, tired and faint. He didn’t say anything else.

You walked side by side in silence for a while, the wind tugging at your sleeves, leaves skittering across the sidewalk. His hand hovered just a few inches from yours, close enough to feel the warmth radiating off of it.

You didn’t move away.

When you finally reached your street, you caught the way he flexed his fingers, bruised and red, still split at the knuckles.

“Come here.” You said quietly, turning into your driveway instead. “Let me clean that.”

He didn’t argue. You sat him down at the kitchen counter and pulled out the first aid box. He sat obediently, arm resting on the table, watching as you opened the kit with practiced hands.

The light in the kitchen was soft, gold and humming. You dipped a cotton ball into antiseptic, glancing at him before pressing it gently to the raw skin. “This is probably going to sting.”

“I’ve had worse.” He muttered.

You didn’t ask when. You didn’t like thinking about him getting hurt. You worked slowly, carefully, dabbing at the scrapes and cuts, the silence between you thick with things unsaid.

“You didn’t have to do that.” You said finally, voice too soft. “I could’ve handled it.”

Daichi didn’t look away from you. “He shouldn’t have touched you.”

Your chest tightened. “Still…”

He shook his head slightly. “I don’t care if I got detention. I’d do it again.”

Your fingers paused over the edge of a bandage. The weight of the moment pressed between you. You wrapped the gauze slowly, smoothing it flat over his knuckles. Your hands lingered on his, thumbs grazing gently across his skin.

He wasn’t looking away. Neither were you. You could feel his breath, short and uneven. His hand turned slightly, palm brushing yours.

“Daichi…” You whispered.

His eyes dropped to your lips. Your heart stopped. He leaned in-

-and then pulled back, sharp and sudden.

His chair scraped softly against the tile. “Thanks.” He said, voice too stiff. “For… patching me up.”

You sat frozen, heart pounding, mouth still parted like a question. He didn’t look at you again as he stood to leave.

And just like that, the moment passed, too big, too heavy, too much for two people still pretending they didn’t already belong to each other.

——————————————————————————

Realization (ages 16 and 17)

You didn’t realize it all at once.

It crept in slowly, quietly, like a song you’d heard too many times to really hear until one day, it cracked you wide open.

It was in the way he laughed, full and real, the kind of laugh that made your stomach flutter.

It was the way he always noticed when something was off. The way he handed you your favorite drink without being asked. The way he texted you before every exam: You’ve got this. I believe in you.

It was the way he looked at you after matches, chest still heaving, sweat dripping down his temple but his eyes always found you in the crowd first. Always you.

It was in the small things. Because that’s where Daichi always lived.

And one night, alone in your room, scrolling through the blurry picture Suga had taken of you and Daichi at the last team festival, him smiling wide, your cheeks flushed from laughing too hard, you felt it all at once.

You loved him.

It wasn’t loud or dramatic. It just was. And it hurt. Because he had never said anything. He had pulled away from you that night with bruised knuckles and trembling silence. And despite everything you thought you saw in his eyes, he had never crossed the line.

Not once.

So maybe… he really did just see you as Koushi’s little sister. Someone he’d always protected. Someone who had always been around. Familiar. Comfortable.

You told yourself it was fine. That you understood. But the ache in your chest said otherwise.

——————————————————————————

The confession (and it’s not his)

His name was Riku Yamamoto.

He was sweet. Polite. Sat next to you in art class and smelled like peppermint and clean laundry. He made you laugh with his bad puns, and once stayed behind to help you carry paints back to the storage room.

And then one day, after class, heart in his hands, he confessed.

You blinked at him for a long second. “Wait, me?”

Riku flushed. “Yeah. I know it’s kind of sudden, and you probably don’t see me that way, but I just… I thought I’d try. One date. That’s all I’m asking.”

You hesitated. Then you said yes. Not because you didn’t love Daichi. But because he didn’t love you back and, maybe, if someone else looked at you like that, like you were the one they’d been hoping for, maybe it would be enough to forget the feeling of being invisible to the only boy who had ever mattered.

Daichi didn’t find out from you. He found out from Koushi.

It was after practice, the sun beginning to dip below the horizon, everyone sprawled out in the gym, sweat and laughter hanging thick in the air. Koushi was chatting absentmindedly about weekend plans, tossing his water bottle from hand to hand.

“Yeah, I think [Y/N]’s got a date with that Yamamoto kid.” He said casually, wiping his forehead.

Daichi froze. “What?”

Koushi looked up. “Huh? Oh, Riku. You know, from Class 2-C? She said he asked her out and she figured, why not.”

The air shifted. Daichi’s grip on his towel tightened.

“Oh.” He said, flat and hollow.

Koushi paused, brows furrowing. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Daichi lied. “Fine.”

But he wasn’t. Something cold and sick settled deep in his chest, and it didn’t move.

You didn’t hear from him for two days. No texts. No calls. Not even a glance when you passed in the hallway. At first, you thought you were imagining it. But by the second day, your chest was too tight to ignore it anymore.

You cornered him after practice, outside the locker room, where the hallway was dim and empty.

“Daichi.” You said, breathless. “Why are you avoiding me?”

He turned, slowly, sweat still clinging to his hairline. “I’m not.”

“You are. You haven’t talked to me in two days.”

He shrugged, expression unreadable. “Been busy.”

“With what? Pretending I don’t exist?”

He flinched,just barely, but you caught it.

“You’re mad.” You said. “Why?”

“I’m not mad.”

“Then what is it?”

He looked away. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does!” Your voice cracked. “Just say it, Daichi! If you’re upset, then say it! Why have you been avoiding me since Koushi told you that I was going on a date?!”

And then it hit like thunder, loud and raw, shoving out of him before he could stop it. “Because I- ”

But he stopped.

Your breath hitched. “Because you what?”

Daichi stared at you, chest rising and falling. And then- Nothing. Silence. He looked down, jaw tight, fists clenched at his sides.

You laughed, bitter and broken. “Right. That’s what I thought.”

He reached for you instinctively. “Wait- ”

You stepped back. “No.” You said. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to get jealous and act like you care and then say nothing.”

Tears stung your eyes.

“I’ve spent years loving you, Daichi.” You whispered. “And I thought… maybe you felt something too. But you never said anything. You just left me hanging. And now I finally say yes to someone else, and now you care?”

He looked shattered.

You shook your head, blinking hard. “I’m not doing this anymore.” You said as you turned and walked away.

Daichi stood frozen in the hallway long after you were gone, gutted and ghost-silent, realizing too late that maybe the biggest mistake he’d ever made was thinking silence would keep you safe.

——————————————————————————

The fallout (ages 16 and 17)

Daichi was a mess.

He went through practice like a ghost, movements tight, eyes distant. He forgot to bring his lunch two days in a row. He barely spoke unless someone asked him a direct question. When he did speak, it was flat, empty, like someone else had taken up residence in his chest.

He still couldn’t believe it. He’d hurt you. You, the one person he’d sworn to never hurt. And he’d done it not with his fists, not with his voice, but with his silence. It was almost worse.

“Okay, I’ve had enough.” Sugawara said, finally slamming his bento box down during lunch break.

Daichi blinked across the bench. “Huh?”

“You’re miserable. [Y/N]’s miserable. Everyone within a 10-meter radius of you two is miserable. And I’m tired of being the only emotionally functioning person in this hellhole.”

“I- ” Daichi started.

“No. Shut up and listen to me.”

Sugawara leaned forward, voice dropping low, expression dead serious.

“I’ve known you my whole life. You’ve been my best friend since we were basically in diapers. And I knew. I knew you were in love with her before you did.”

Daichi stared, color draining from his face.

“You used to look at her like she was the whole damn world. Still do, honestly. But the second someone else looked at her that way? You freaked. You got scared. And instead of saying something, you broke her heart.”

Daichi swallowed hard. “I didn’t mean to- ”

“I know.” Sugawara said gently. “That’s the problem.”

A beat of silence.

Then Suga sighed, raking a hand through his hair before adding with brutal softness, “You’re my best friend, Daichi. I trust you. But if you make her cry again…” He leaned in, all warmth gone. “I’ll make sure you never have kids.”

Daichi choked. “Jesus- ”

“I mean it.”

“I know, that’s what makes it worse.”

“Now go fix it.” Suga said, softening again. “Before someone else does.”

——————————————————————————

Not him

Riku was kind. He held your hand when you let him. He smiled when he looked at you. He paid attention. He didn’t try to be anything other than himself. He was… safe

But he wasn’t Daichi. He didn’t notice the way you only ever half-laughed. He didn’t know that you hated sour candy but kept a pack in your bag because Daichi liked it.

He didn’t know that the piano pieces you played the most were the ones Daichi had once said made him feel like flying.

And it wasn’t fair to either of you.

So one quiet afternoon after class, you sat on the bleachers behind the school and looked at Riku’s warm, patient face and whispered. “I’m sorry.”

He smiled, sad but understanding. “I figured.”

“No hard feelings?”

He shook his head. “You don’t forget someone like him. I wouldn’t want to compete with that either.”

You laughed, choked and wet and when he hugged you goodbye, you didn’t cry. Because the only person who could make you cry like that… was the one who already had.

——————————————————————————

The doorstep

It was three days after you ended things with Riku when the knock came at your door. You opened it and froze.

Daichi stood there on your porch, rain misting through his hair, his hoodie clinging slightly to his shoulders like he’d run here even though the walk wasn’t far.

His eyes were wide. Nervous. He looked wrecked.

“Hey….” He said, breathless. “Can I… talk to you?”

You nodded, heart pounding. He stepped in, water dripping from his sleeves. He didn’t sit. Just stood there, shifting like he couldn’t figure out how to stand still.

“I heard you broke up with Riku.”

You blinked. “How- ?”

“Suga.” He admitted. Of course.

You wrapped your arms around yourself. “If you came to say I shouldn’t have- ”

“No.” He said immediately, almost desperately. “No. That’s not why I came.” He inhaled like it hurt. “I came because I should’ve said something. A long time ago. And I’m scared if I don’t say it now, I’ll never get another chance.”

You froze. He looked at you then, all soft vulnerability and breaking open.

“I’ve been in love with you since I was eight and you made me those stupid flower crowns at the park.” He said, voice cracking. “I didn’t even know what that meant back then, I just knew that when you smiled at me, I felt like the sun was coming up inside my chest.”

Your breath caught.

“You’ve always been more than just Suga’s little sister to me. You’ve been my best friend, my safe place, my home. And I was an idiot for thinking that staying quiet was somehow protecting you. I thought if I kept things the same, if I stayed in that ‘safe’ space, you’d never leave. But I hurt you instead.”

You didn’t move. Couldn’t even breathe.

He shifted, eyes wide and panicked. “I- I don’t know if you can forgive me. I get it if you’re done. I just- ” He ran a hand through his hair. “I just had to tell you. Because I meant it. Every time I looked at you I couldn’t pull my eyes away because you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. And I didn’t know how to say it then, but I do now, and- ”

“Daichi.” You whispered.

He froze mid-ramble. “What- ?”

“Just shut up.” You stepped forward and kissed him.

Soft. Slow. Certain. And he melted.

Your hands slid up to cup his jaw, his cheeks cold from the rain. His fingers trembled as they touched your waist, like he still couldn’t believe you were real.

When you finally pulled back, your forehead resting against his, you smiled.

“Welcome home.” You whispered.

He let out a breath that sounded like a laugh and a sob at once and held you like he’d never let go again.

Later that night, curled up beside him on the couch, the soft glow of the TV washing over your skin, Daichi whispered. “I was so scared you’d moved on.”

“I tried.” You murmured into his shoulder. “Didn’t work.”

He chuckled. “Good.”

You tilted your head to look at him. “What about Suga?”

“I already got the threat.” He said, deadpan. “Something about not having kids?”

You grinned. “Sounds like him.”

Daichi leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Worth it.”

You sighed into his chest. It had taken you years but you were here now. No more almosts. No more silence. Just the two of you, finally.

—————————————————————————

When Suga finds out

The moment you told Koushi, you were terrified. Not because you thought he’d be mad. You knew your brother, he’d probably suspected it for years.

But because Daichi, the captain of Karasuno’s volleyball team, defender of justice and protector of your heart, had gone completely pale.

“Okay, okay.” You whispered, gripping his hand. “He’s not going to kill you.”

“I don’t know.” Daichi muttered. “He did threaten to neuter me.”

“Okay, valid.”

So naturally, when you finally told him one evening after dinner, it went exactly as expected and also, somehow, worse.

You sat him down in the living room. Daichi looked like he was preparing for a firing squad. You reached for his hand and took a deep breath.

“Koushi.” You said gently. “We have something to tell you.”

He blinked.

Daichi cleared his throat. “I… I’m dating your sister.”

A beat. Koushi saw the opportunity of his life and he was going to milk it. His eyes narrowed, slowly, like a cat sensing prey.

“My best friend.” He said. “My lifelong best friend.”

Daichi nodded, bracing. “Yes.”

“My sister.” Koushi added. “Who I have known since she was a literal embryo.”

“Correct.”

He gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. “Betrayal. My blood. My captain. You’ve conspired under my very nose!”

“Oh my god.” You groaned. “Koushi, please.”

“I leave you two alone for five seconds and suddenly there’s hand holding in my house? Kissing under my roof?”

Daichi was already hiding behind a throw pillow. But then Koushi dropped the act, grinning so wide it made your eyes sting.

“Took you long enough.” He said, eyes kind. “God. You’ve been making heart eyes at each other since grade school.”

You blinked. “You’re not… mad?”

“Please.” He scoffed. “You think I’d have let just anyone get close to you like that? I’ve been waiting for you idiots to figure it out.”

You exhaled, relief slumping your shoulders.

Then he added with a smirk, “But I swear, if I walk in on you making out, I will bleach my eyeballs.”

He did in in fact, end up walking in on you making out.

To be fair, you thought he was out with the team. And Daichi thought the coast was clear.

So when he kissed you against the kitchen counter, slow and thorough you tugged at the hem of his shirt, and he whispered something that made your knees weak-

“OH MY GOD- ”

You both leapt apart like guilty teenagers caught red-handed.

Koushi’s face was scarlet. “I eat there! The counter!”

Daichi was already halfway behind the fridge door.

You covered your face. “Koushi, we weren’t- ”

“You had your tongue in his soul, [Y/N]!”

“Koushi!”

Daichi wheezed. “I’m sorry-”

“You’re dead to me, Sawamura! Dead!”

——————————————————————————

Graduation day (ages 17 and 18)

Karasuno’s gym was buzzing with laughter and soft music, the crowd a sea of uniforms and proud parents. You were practically vibrating with excitement, your camera hanging from your neck, phone fully charged.

You spotted them immediately.

Daichi, sharp in his black gakuran, shoulders broad, smile wide and Koushi, looking radiant as ever, waving his arms dramatically from a distance.

You ran toward them and threw your arms around Daichi first, nearly knocking the wind out of him. “You did it!”

He laughed, wrapping you up tight. “We did it.”

You pulled back only to be immediately seized by your brother.

“Betrayed.” Koushi said, loud and overdramatic. “I’m also graduating, and yet you run to him first? My own kin? Have you no shame?”

You rolled your eyes, grinning. “You’ll live.”

“Will I?”

“You got three flower bouquets, and I saw someone slip you their number.”

“Okay, I’ll live.”

Daichi chuckled, eyes fond as he watched the two of you bicker. Then he slipped his hand into yours, just like he always had. Only now, it meant something.

You leaned your head on his shoulder. You didn’t say it, but he felt it anyway. I’m proud of you.

That night, you sat together on the roof of Daichi’s house, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders, the stars just starting to peek out. He was quiet beside you, his hand warm over yours.

“So….” You said softly. “What now?”

He smiled. “Police academy starts in a few weeks.”

You nodded. “You’re going to be amazing.”

“What about you?”

“I’ve got one more year.” You said. “And then… music school, maybe. I want to teach. Or compose. Maybe both.”

He looked at you like the stars were in your skin.

“I’ll be cheering for you.” He said.

You glanced sideways. “Long-distance okay with you?”

“Only if you promise to send me songs.” He said. “And let me visit you on weekends.”

“Deal.”

You were quiet for a while, the breeze soft around you.

Then Daichi added, voice barely above a whisper. “I want a future with you, you know.”

You looked at him, heart stuttering.

“Not just dating. I mean… life. You. Me. Someday.” He kissed your temple. “I already wasted years of our lives because I was too scared to say something, I plan on spending the rest with you.”

Your throat tightened.

“Good.” You whispered, squeezing his hand. “Because I do too.”

He leaned in, kissed you slow and sweet and everything, the years of near misses, quiet heartbreak, ache and waiting,clicked into place.

Taglist is open so let me know if you want to be added for future works! :)

[voidsuites]

VOIDSUITES 1K TUMBLR CELEBRATION !!! ⌢ 💿 .ᐟ

1,000. 1k. one thousand people!!! still processing. probably will be for a while. none of this feels real. pinch me! but i digress!

if you follow me, you probably do for challengers content (understandable). maybe you came from my c.ai account. maybe you love other luca guadagnino movies or stranger things or marvel or the pitt or BRAT or mike faist or pedro pascal or the cure or anyone else on here that i yap about. maybe you came from one of my lovely mutuals’ accounts and decided to stick around! maybe you just found me randomly and the rest is history. either way, i am so, so grateful that you’ve continued to hang out with me and make all of this so much fun!

to celebrate... i am opening up another 15 bot request slots! however... here are a few rules to follow. to make your request, you can either:

send me a song along with your chosen character + you’re picturing for it! (my specialty lol)

OR

choose from one of the fanfic tropes below and send it to me with the character you want + the kind of scenario you’re picturing for it!

please send these requests to me via an ask— this will help me keep track of them in one place while also not clogging up my request form. additionally, please make sure you are OFF anon so i know who’s sending what :)

just like my 15k c.ai celebration:

these requests can be based on canon or in an alternate universe

any character/media i’ve done is fair game! if i haven’t done a specific character yet but it’s in one of my fandoms, still send it my way! if you’re not entirely sure what is/isn’t applicable, you can reference my c.ai account and see what fandoms i’ve written for thus far or my pinned post here on tumblr!

like anything else, yap to your heart’s content! yap yap yap away... i love details... any last detail helps... the more deets the merrier...

if you’re sending in an ask, please only send one! that way everyone else gets a chance to send one in <3

as i’ve said above, i am taking fifteen (15) requests in total, and i’ll reblog this post once they’ve all been filled. anything sent in afterwards will not be counted for this release, but i will hang onto any leftover asks that i find interesting to potentially release in the future.

thank you again for making this space welcoming and fun for me, and letting me fangirl and thirst and yearn to my heart’s content. and a HUUUUUUUUUGE thank you to all of my mutuals— i am so lucky and so grateful to be surrounded by so many like-minded, talented, and beautiful people that i have been lucky enough to befriend. none of this gets done without knowing all of you are in my corner. love you all 💗💗💗💗

FANFIC TROPES !!! ⌢ 💿 .ᐟ

1) friends to lovers 2) enemies to lovers 3) fake dating 4) meet cute / ugly 5) arranged marriage 6) miscommunication 7) only one bed / sharing a bed 8) amnesia 9) forbidden love 10) reunion 11) road trip 12) caught in the rain 13) blind date 14) friends with benefits 15) star-crossed lovers 16) long-distance relationship 17) almost kiss 18) sick 19) second chances 20) snowed in / trapped / stuck with one another

[dragonz-r-kewl]

Hello there, fellow Farsight enjoyer. I have enjoyed your characterization and ideas about Farsight, and if it does not inconvenience you too much, could you tell me a little about what you think her and Mastermind's relationship was like? I personally agree with the fact that they were close, and I agree with how they both had respect for each other's knowledge and intelligence and academics in the other fanfictions. Yet, there's a lot that puzzles me with their relationship, like how Mastermind claimed correctly for years that Starflight was his, yet Farsight refused to say it in Prisoners, and then 2 years later they're seen standing next to each other in the prologue of Moon Rising. From some speculation (piecing together mentioned events from The Dark Secret, Prisoners, and Moon Rising), I have figured out that Mastermind and Farsight must have had some sort of interaction in 5004 A.S. to conceive Starflight, but she's noticeably absent from Prisoners when Fierceteeth is 7 in 5010 A.S., and then she's already dead for a few years by 5011 A.S. That means that they would have known each other for a few years in that timeframe. What do you think the course of their relationship was like? You mentioned that it was going downhill for a while, and I'd like to hear your take on it. Thank you for also receiving my speculation. It's very nice that you and I both are Farsight enjoyers on here.

Hi and sorry it took me so long to respond! I've been a bit creatively bankrupt lately and had to sum up the energy to digitally infodump. (and then it took me like a month or five because i took so long that i kept psyching myself out :p) But! I have Thoughts about this!! Even if it's been like a month or more since I've posted to this damn website!

I've never actually thought about it in terms of a timeline before, considering I do most of my thinking in pre-canon limbo and applying like. A human-ish timeframe to things. Still, the canon course of events wouldn't disrupt my idea of them too much- if anything, it brings a lot more structure to it.

I do think they would've been acquaintances since, I don't know, the dragon equivalent of high school aged?? Farsight would've been the bubbly, friendly type who likes to talk with everybody, while Mastermind appreciated companionship but had other priorities at the time. They would drift apart for a while in their young adulthood, persuing different things after their lives were shuffled around by the volcano having a flare-up.

Then again, this has taken several months for me to write, and I've warmed up to the idea of them not knowing eachother aside from maybe one or two meetings

A few years later, though, by the time Fierceteeth exists (so around 2003 A.S. with a few months' allowance either way), due to more nebulously defined happenstance, Farsight and Mastermind end up running into each other again and getting to know eachother much more closely.

More specifically, I have this notion that maybe Farsight's job was to be a scribe or a typist/stenographer (depending on how much technology dragons would have-- Tui seems to add technology to her world based on what *feels* old-timey, making it ambiguous if it's medieval or post-renaissance or another thing entirely. I find it funny to call it The Calculus Problem, based on how they seemingly have invented calculus but not gunpowder-- in a warring, fire-breathing species no less!) , and they would have met again when Mastermind began to work under Battlewinner directly and would be made to start attending the meetings. (you know what I mean by the meetings, right? idk i haven't read the dark secret in... a while...)

Anyways, the start of their relationship happens very quickly and out of nowhere and all at once. Depending on where in the year the brightest night is (it's never directly exposited iirc) it might be over the course of a bit over a year or less than it. Why it happened so quickly, I have a few ideas as to that also.

Mainly, they were both lonely and their home was slowly being destroyed. Farsight had whoever Fierceteeth's father was die on her, her friend(?) Secretkeeper is often busy with her life in high places, and it's unknown how much else she has going for her. Mastermind, meanwhile, is pretty much an outsider within their society (source: he hides in a room all day and people don't seem to like him) Companionship, at this point, seems very desirable, and so they quickly end up romantically entangled.

Aaaand then Starflight happens, and the weirdness/canon mystery regarding this relationship becomes impossible to ignore.

My thoughts on the situation go like this:

Farsight knows Mastermind is Starflight's father, and so does Mastermind. They both know that the other knows, and are perfectly open about it... to each other.

For a time, they just don't tell anyone else about their relationship, let alone the egg's parentage because of... social reasons I guess? Lots of which relate to the prophecy and stuff.

There are a few reasons I've come up with, but personally, I've landed on the following for now:

Harsh but plausible; (almost) no one likes Mastermind, and he's still there just because they need a science guy and he's the one ensuring they still have a water supply. However, based on what we have seen of him, he is unemphatic, far from personable, and difficult to work with. He's unpopular, essentially, and somehow high up in the pecking order despite that, and Farsight knows she'll have enough dragons in her face to begin with just having an egg that lines up with the prophecy in the first place. She wants to keep their relationship- especially after the egg- under wraps, and Mastermind agrees for her sake. After she dies (or just after things cool down- more about this later) Mastermind is more willing to mention it occasionally, but anybody who pays attention doesn't really believe him.

Or maybe they were normal about it and Morrowseer is out of touch and dragons just don't believe anything Mastermind says sometimes because. The mastermindl

Regardless, they grow closer at a fairly steady rate, and they get along well! Things are stable and sane, except for the looming anxiety of Starflight's egg being taken because they should know that, really-

There are two (wow, only two for once?) possibilities with Starflight here; either his being a prophecy egg was deliberate, or coincidental. Based on Farsight's feelings about him, at least, I tend to fall in the latter camp.

Logically, if an egg's hatching can be accurately predicted to the day, apparently, they probably knew from very early on that Starflight would hatch around the brightest night at the very least. Mastermind knows this, and logically, Farsight should too- but based on her behaviour in Winglets, it seems like she hasn't fully processed or come to terms with it, even though she definitely *knows*. At the very least she wants to pretend like she'll get to spend all that time with it and raise it as long as she can.

And then the egg is taken.

And Farsight doesn't take it well.

In Winglets, Fierceteeth menitons her "moping" and it being "so annoying". Based on how scared Fierceteeth seems to be of emotions, I generally take this as meaning it was bad. Fierceteeth essentially lost her mother all the way back then-- Farsight was grief-stricken, depressed, and inconsolable. They were both unable to handle the situation and it ruined their relationship for good.

However, as much as I would love to go on and on about Fierceteeth and Farsight and the tragedy of it all and how it's nobody's fault and it's everybody's fault and it's Morrowseer's fault in a way but he's a jackass and it doesn't count because everything is his fault BUT that's another infodump for another day, I want to post this within this century, and the main point of this is Farsight and Mastermind.

So, Mastermind.

OH GOD MASTERMIND I NEVER KNOW WHERE TO START--

I do think Mastermind would care about Starflight, and earnestly, too! (He strikes me as a very earnest character, just a weird, morally dubious one.) He's just not very emotionally literate and has a hard time caring.

Where Farsight so instantly and completely loves, Mastermind is a lot more reserved. He's slower to care about things, slower to get attached, more easily put off-- he's not friendly.

So he doesn't care horiffically much about the egg at first, not any more than an extension of Farsight and his relationship with her. Sure, he hopes it goes well, if only so Farsight-whom he already has grown to love-is happy and well.

However, seeing it taken, seeing it somewhere where he is unable to see it, and seeing Farsight so utterly distraught, it gets him to start caring. He wants her to not be so consumed by grief. He begins to miss that egg too, and in this shared understanding, he wants nothing more than to comfort her.

One problem: he's bad at that!

Again, he's not emotionally literate, he's not the most empathetic, and he only has some vague idea of how to comfort someone. It only works some pittance of the time because Farsight, always caring, bleeding heart, actually got to know him Farsight, can tell he's trying to comfort her and appreciates it.

Their only relief from the situation is the fact that the other understands. It's a weird place to be, and it's hard to get empathy for: their dragonet has been taken from them before it hatched, presumably to a place where it will be happy and alive, but it was still TAKEN, and there wasn't much say for them to have in it. Considering the conditions on the island, they might die before their child can come back home, and even then they'll have missed its entire childhood. Any sense of grief or loss could very easily be tainted by guilt, because their dragonet was alive-- so many others weren't.

Regardless, they are stuck together, even with feelings and lives and pursuits that are all falling apart and collapsing and becoming so dysfunctional, because the other is the only one that really understands. It's probably not the greatest thing, but there's not really anywhere else to go. The only way out of it, really, is for someone to die.

And then Farsight goes ahead and does die! Effectively, it's the end of the relationship, and it has some very interesting implications on Mastermind's behaviour's afterwards.

I've seen the idea shared before (i think i was spectating the fandom wiki forums, of all places) that Farsight was Mastermind's moral compass or something like that, able to stop him before he went to before. I don't quite hold that so literally, but it's totally understandable that, with that one stable pillar in his life gone, Mastermind would be a good deal less well adjusted.

I'd imagine Farsight's death would give him a bit of a mortality crisis of sorts, realizing that she died on the dying island, too weak from stress and starvation to hold up a fight, before ever getting to meet the child she cared so much about. And suddenly, despite the growing despair and workload and apathy, Mastermind cares very much about his work, maybe too much, because he doesn't want to die there like she did.

I've always imagined Morrowseer as Mastermind's supervisor--well, he's in charge of a lot of people, but not quite so directly--and using that kind of rhetoric, of not wanting him or his tribe to die on the island, to try and push Mastermind into duties he was reluctant to do. After that, it really begins to work.

And, when they need an experiment that may very well secure their future, but is messy and unsafe and underfunded and needs more than one researcher and just in a way he hasn't been raised and taught to be able to place gross, he's willing to agree. He just wants to live long enough to see a way out of there, and if he can help make one, that increases the odds for him, and reduces the number of dragons that have to die like her.

And, hey, he gets his wish.

In my opinion, Farsight's shadow looms heavy over the RainWing experiments. She weighs so heavily, suffocatingly heavy, over nearly every damn interaction Starflight has with his surviving family.

The scene where he first meets Starflight hurts. He's just so happy, and proud, and just has this sudden turn in mood... to me, from my brainrotted headcannon haze, it feels like the first reason he's had to light up so much and so genuinely in AGES. (I've seen the opinon where he's just happy to have someone to sit around and make him feel better about himself, but I've never really read him as sinister in that way, just emotionally stilted in one way or another.) It's the closest he's gotten to seeing Farsight in ages. The only moment of apathy we get from him around Starflight is when he gets to the desperate, dead-end, most uncomfortable part of his WORK--

The exact thing that turns Starflight away from him. He doesn't even really notice.

Because integrity and good moral standing died like everything else in this place. Where all the dragonets were slowly killed in one sense with the "nightwing superiority" rhetoric they were taught for generations, and far more literally as the environment crumbled around them. Where Mastermind and Farsight's relationship died slowly, too. It was a place where everything not already rotten was going, going, gone.

Or something like that. The best part about their relationship is the room for interpretation, I guess.

So yeah! Mastermind x Farsight! And to think this all happened so quickly, too... They never really had a chance, but they really did end up loving eachother.

I am SO SO SO SORRY this took so long, I've just been stuck in an exhausted dysfunctional funk for months. I can't tell when this ask was even sent anymore--October I think?-- and i am very sorry. I'm getting back into the groove, though, and more than happy to exhange ideas about Farsight and related subject matter in the future.Obsessing over fictional characters that appear twice is something I'm always willing to indulge in. I promise it won't take as long lolll

Anyways, my fellow Farsight enjoyer, it has been very fulfilling to get this all out in text, and I'm very curious to see what you think! I am not proofreading this so if something makes absolutely no sense, sorry about that too.

So yeah! Thanks for the ask, I appreciate it loads :]

[eddiemunsonsmum]

Just saw this comment on a story posted a month ago.

*cries in Eddie Munson Solo Series no one wanted to read, interact with or request for*

No shade to the person that commented this on their own fic if you recognize it. It's not their fault. I'm not mad at them. More crying in the tags.

[haarute]

it's amazing how almost all of my friendships (and by almost all i mean Every save like three) are ruined by my own self essentially swerving into a wall and crashing on purpose due to my inability to believe my company could ever be even slightly desirable to anyone and i'd rather just burn it all and die than see myself as someone who intrudes and abuses people's kindness out of my own selfish desire to want companionship.

[pillbuggs]

the gutsby collection

after @gutsby 's recent disappearance, i decided to compile all of her fics that i could find, originally for my own reading purposes because i, too, loved her fics. in light of all of the distraught posts and comments that have followed, i have decided to create and post this list for easy access (through compiling already existing findable reblogs, i haven't copied, downloaded, or reposted anything, i'm just putting everything in one place). discovering that you're suddenly unable to reach a favorite blog or never got to finish a well written fic sucks, so i hope y'all are able to find what you're looking for here. if you have any fics of hers reblogged that i've missed feel free to send them my way so i can add them here.

please note these might only be expandable/readable on desktop.

another note for those that are concerned: this list has gutsby's approval.

Waiting Game: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Extras More Extras Even More Extras Another Extra

chapters 1-8 can also be found on her ao3 which is still up!

Make It Stick: Prequel Part 1 Part 2 More Old!Joel Even More Another

🌸 Seeing Pink: "Joel steals more of your innocence every day. Fortunately, you love to give as much as he loves to take."

📺 My Body, His Choice: "After a long day, Joel just needs some relief."

🌡️ Cabin Fever: "Joel saves your life, but help comes at a price."

💧 Brighter Times: "You've always been Joel's favorite. Always."

🚸 Love Tap: "Old habits die hard with your husband–touching you at inappropriate times is one of them."

📚 Wants and Needs: "Bills are high; your dad's boss wants to help. How you pay him stays between you and him–for now."

🍼 Cry, Baby: "Joel fucks you to the point of tears. That's all."

🧺 Who's Your Daddy?: "You get stuck in the washing machine. Thankfully, your stepdad is around to help you out."

🍑 Just Peachy: "Joel's got a jealous streak and a bold idea."

🍺 Cowboy Killers: "On a mission to find–and fight–your best friend's lying, cheating boyfriend at the bar, you end up throwing your drink in the wrong face and landing in a sticky situation with Joel Miller, who never plays fair."

💵 Easy to Please: "Months pass, and you can't make rent–again. You find another way to pay your sleazy landlord. Again."

🍍 If You Like Piña Coladas: "You secretly make Joel a profile on Hinge. Then he shows you exactly why he doesn't need one."

⚾️ Heavy Hitter: "A kick in the dick is a strange way to get a man's attention, but Coach Miller doesn't mind at all."

🎬 Too Close for Comfort: "You've been babysitting Sarah Miller forever. One day, you're surfing the web on her dad's computer, and you find some...unusual things in his search history."

🇺🇸 Bigger in Texas: "Joel won't fit."

[chamerionwrites]

Honestly this gets at my chiefest complaint/frustration/discomfort with fandom as a whole. Which is: in their rush to defend the artistic merit of fanworks I think a ton of people have really valorized transformation and remixing and reinterpretation in and of themselves, when imo those are all quite neutral actions. When done well, they can expand and build upon and subvert meaning in really powerful and thought-provoking (and fun!) ways. When done poorly, they are just as likely to flatten and oversimplify and decontextualize and completely erase meaning. The simple act of changing something does not imbue the choice to do so with creative validity. It is entirely possible for a cover song to be bad (or just boring!). To exactly the same degree that it is possible to transform a pretty shallow and straightforward work into something deeper and more nuanced and subversive, is possible to transform a work into a vastly shallower and less interesting shadow of itself. As with nearly everything in art, it's all about the execution!

But the second you voice this position (which should honestly be a pretty uncontroversial one imo), you get people shrieking at you about being gatekeep-y and pretentious and betraying the sacred fandom etiquette of Don't-Like-Don't-Read.

And like...listen. I was not raised in a barn. I am 150% capable of quietly back-buttoning out of a fanfic I think is bad or boring - which is exactly what I do when I encounter them - and I am obviously not advocating for stupid ships wars or any kind of harassment or leaving hatemail in people's AO3 inboxes. (Which some people will also accuse you of the second you say anything less than lavishly positive about fandom, in true piss-on-the-poor fashion.) Literally all I am saying is that you can't have your cake and eat it too - that if fandom and fanworks (in the broadest sense) have artistic merit then fandom and fanworks (in the broadest sense) are fair game for artistic critique. Which means, in practice, that I can go on my own blog and make a post exactly like this one - critiquing broad trends, or stating that some interpretations are bad actually, or pointing out that subverting or talking back to or reading against the grain of canon is very different from simply ignoring it, or saying "fandom's culture of collage/remix/fuck-canon-I-do-what-I-want can lend itself to to really creative and interesting art but also to a lot of really bland homogenized cut-n-paste art, not to mention some pretty troubling decontextualization." And that if you feel this rains on your personal parade, you are then free to DLDR by back-buttoning out of my blog and/or blocking me so you never have to see my hot takes again, rather than clamoring in my notes about how I should let people enjoy things.

[pleasantlycrazyworld]

Summary: Bob doesn’t do well with compliments—especially not when they come casually, softly, sincerely, from you.

It started so innocently.

You were both in the Tower’s kitchen late at night, the rest of the team long gone, off doing their own thing or passed out in their rooms, the room quiet except for the low hum of the refrigerator and the soft clink of Bob’s spoon as he stirred honey into his tea. The light above the stove was the only one on, casting him in this dim, golden glow that made him look soft, and safe, and—

“Fuck, you are so pretty,” you murmured, not even really meaning to say it out loud. Honestly, you thought you said it in your head.

Bob froze mid-stir. His hand stopped moving, his shoulders tense, and his head turned toward you just slightly—like a deer caught in a compliment. “…What?”

You looked up from your mug, confused for a second—until you realized shit I said that out loud. “You’re pretty, like so pretty” you repeated, gently, smiling with a slight eye roll like it wasn’t a big deal. Because to you, it wasn’t. Not in the way it should have been. But Bob? He looked at you like you had just gave him the moon.

“I—” he stammered, feeling his heart rate spike and his palms getting sweat, he doesn't realize the spoon slipped from his grip until a slight clink echoed between the two of you as the spoon fell into the mug. “You think—me?”

“Who else would I be talking to? It's just you here honey” you asked, leaning against the counter. “You’re literally glowing right now. I feel like I need to be paying someone just to stand next to you.”

He blinked. Blinked again. And then backed up two whole steps like he couldn't breathe the same air as you. “You can’t just say that” he whispered, like it was scandalous. “That I mean -- that's just dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” you laughed. “It’s a compliment, Bob.”

“No, it’s a threat to my emotional stability. Do you know what you’ve done? Do you understand how fast my brain is spiraling right now?” He ran a hand through his already-messy hair, only making it worse. “My entire internal monologue is just screaming, ‘She called me pretty, act normal, don’t faint, don’t cry, don’t propose—’”

You nearly choked on your tea. “Propose?”

He clapped his hand over his mouth like he’d just revealed state secrets. “Forget I said that” he muttered into his palm before waving his hand around as he rambles. “Strike it from the record. Rewind time. Go back thirty seconds before I embarrassed myself into a new dimension.”

“Bob.” You stepped forward and gently tugged his hand away from his mouth. “I meant it. You’re pretty. Not just during your glow-in-the-dark god-mode or whatever. You’ve got those kind, beautiful blue eyes, and a warm smile, and your hair does that floppy thing when it’s humid—”

“I hate the floppy thing,” he whispered. “I love the floppy thing,” you corrected, and watched as his cheeks turned a deep, unmistakable red. “You’re gonna kill me with your sweetness,” he muttered, looking down at the floor like it had better answers than you did.

You leaned in closer, nose nearly brushing his, making him look back at you. “Then I guess I’ll have to revive you with kisses.” That earned you a stunned blink, a sputtered half-laugh, and then a wide, dorky smile that split his entire face open like sunlight escaping through clouds.

“…Okay,” he said breathlessly. “But fair warning. You call me pretty again and I’m legally required to build you a shrine.” You grinned and blush slightly. “Noted.”

As always if you like my work, please let me know! Reblogging, commenting, and liking are huge and easy ways to let me know you're enjoying my work, and it keeps me motivated to post way more!!! Requests are open <3

Tagging:

@msfirth

@my-name-is-baby

@metalarmsandmanbuns

@live-love-be-unique

@disillusioniary

@you-bloody-shank

@sarcazzzum

@itsjustisa

@qardasngan

[boyfhee]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ 𝗣𝗥𝗘𝗖𝗜𝗢𝗨𝗦ㅤㅤ sim jaeyun

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ 𝗦𝗖𝗥𝓲𝗣𝗧───𝗃𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝖾𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖽𝗈 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖻𝖾𝗇𝖾𝖿𝗂𝗍𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌.

❪ 5O1O ❫ ｡ jake 𝗑 𝖿!𝗋 𝑖𝑛 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖻𝖾𝗇𝖾𝖿𝗂𝗍𝗌 ✿ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ! making out, explicit sex, fingering, oral ( f ! receiving ), car sex, jake is a little crazy

﹙◜ᴗ⁠◝⁠﹚ first and last time writing smut, this was so stressful >< please be nice. the plot is silly .. jake is silly erm anyway a big big thanks to casey my baef for reviewing this or i would have never posted. happy reading !

OO1 I WANT YOU

jake first bumped into you during one of the university competitions. you both were volunteering for different contests, running around, and he quite literally bumped into you. apologies spun in the air and you were quick to brush it off, maybe because you were busy. it occured to him that you are very pretty.

second time, it was at the congratulatory dinner with the winners exactly two weeks later. you were incredibly happy, pouring drinks and helping others and he was incredibly curious.

third time, well— you were already in his bed. wasted, tired, satisfied, and it’s a scene that’s burned into his mind.

numbers were exchanged, you both agreed on fridays. although, it barely only stayed limited to fridays. you started calling him after your long and tiring labs and he would want a taste of you after his football coach would get on his nerves again.

the first time he was in your bed would be today. he offered to drive you back and you pulled him closer by his collar in the elevator.

you’re pretty sure you’ve made a mess out of your apartment while bumping into things and making your way inside. it doesn’t really matter though. with jake, every mess leads to something good.

“oh, jake!” you moan as he thrusts into you, arms on either side of your head. sex with jake was incredible. he was caring, despite having his long dick in your tight hole, despite teasing you till he had his fill before filling you up.

he fucks you nice and gentle and his eyes never leave your face, wanting to see every single expression, to watch you as you let out the sweetest, most alluring sounds.

“you close, angel?” he grunts as he fucks you slow and deep, with so much passion. you are a wanton mess and he can only chuckle at the muddle he has made out of you, leaving you speechless and fucked to the point you are only nodding furiously, digging your nails into him.

he can see the sweat on your forehead, making your baby hairs stick to your skin. he can feel you clenching around him— you’re still so tight after he has fucked you so many times.

he kisses your neck, right above your pulse, whispering in his low yet sugary voice as he pulls all out before inching all the way inside the very next moment. “come for me, doll,”

your eyes flutter shut as he pushes into you deeper, one hand finding its way to your clit as he elevates your pleasure.

you look unreal with moonlight reflecting off your skin. he is thanking the universe for making the power go out tonight because you look breath taking, and you have taken his breath away.

his tongue runs over your lips and then into your mouth and your moans echo through his mouth when he begins to kiss you slowly. you whimper, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him closer. “g-gonna cum, jaeyun. . .”

“i know,” he breaths, feeling himself getting closer. he can feel it more than before when he glazes down at your body, all weak and hot, all because of him. it’s like a switch turning on in you when he looks at you like you belong here, and you come undone.

he pulls out with a grunt, pumping his cock on top of you before coming all over your lower stomach. he makes such a mess, although he doubts you would want it otherwise. the sheets are not a problem, he would make sure to help you clean them as a fair apology— not because he fucked you so hard you made a mess all over your sheets, but because it would happen again.

sometimes, you wonder if this is how it is supposed to be.

he immediately grabs a towel to clean you up. his actions are slow and soft and you let out a relaxed sigh at the way he trails his lips over your belly, tasting the remnant of him on his tongue. he goes further down and kisses the insides of your thigh, knowing just now it gets you all bothered.

his eyes find yours from down below, and you wonder why he looks at you like that while he wonders if you are aware that you are otherworldly.

he senses your breath even out and you slip into slumber. you are always the first one to fall asleep and he thinks it’s adorable. he covers you with a duvet, gaze refusing to leave you— who looks so angelic in the after glow, so spent, so blissfully unaware of the things you make him feel.

he guesses he should sleep on the couch but then he decides to stay and watch you longer. your eyes flutter during sleep in the most hypnotising ways and you look like you should be given everything you ever desire. you deserve to have all your wishes fulfilled, to be happy every second of life and never feel lacking. if it is the stars and moon that you want— stars and moon shall you receive.

jake realises this is the first time he has watched you sleeping for so long. he realises how lucky he is to see you like this, bare, open, content. he realises you deserve the entire world instead of some convenient sex a few times a week— the thought leaves a bitter taste on his tongue.

his heart beats faster and he can feel his fingers clenching involuntarily over the sheets. jake realises you deserve to be sought after every day, every hour, every minute, every second, and not only on days he wants pleasure.

he thinks he is losing his mind, but he feels like a sick bastard to reduce someone like you to just sex, when you deserve to be made love to with utmost care and passion.

a voice in his head tells him he is overthinking— you agreed to this, fully sober. but he still feels an ache in his heart when he thinks about the first time he had sex with you, and he winces at his sheer stupidity for landing you in this arrangement when you deserve better.

the soft rustling of sheets turns his attention to you as you turn, hugging the other pillow in your arms. your cheeks are squished against the soft material— so pure, innocent, like a fairy.

jake feels sick to his stomach.

OO2 IN WAYS MORE THAN ONE

jake feels like the worst man to walk on god’s green earth.

his head is spinning and he can’t stop thinking about the beautiful sounds you let out while he fucked you out of your head the other day— each memory making him feel guiltier.

it’s been three days since he has seen you.

three days of pushing and pulling, of his fingers hovering over your contact to give a call back, three days of holding at the single string of reason left in him.

he avoids walking by your classes, even taking the longer route in the scorching heat. he does a complete one-eighty when he sees you from across the cafeteria, making an excuse to his friends and hurrying out.

jake is absolutely going through it because you went to your birthday party and your pictures on instagram are turning him on. he almost considers unfollowing you but ends up liking your post instead.

he thinks about all the times he has fucked you and all the sounds you let out for him and almost jerks off in the washroom stalls— almost, because he slaps himself back to reality and goes back to having his face buried deep betweent the pages of his book, this time.

“i feel like shit,” is the first thing he says as soon as he plops down on the chair next to sunghoon, immediately going for the can of soda on the table.

“did something happen?” there’s curiosity, just not enough to make him look up.

but the sound of jake popping the can open catches his attention anyway, followed by a groan from the australian. “me and yn are fucking,”

a pause. sunghoon shrugs. he doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with that.

for one, you’re really beautiful. if he didn’t know any better, sunghoon would fuck you too out of sheer jealously. and two, jake goes off about you on a weekly basis and it doesn’t take a scientist to know that he might have a thing for you.

although, having sex with your crush on a friday to friday arrangement sounds way awkward for sunghoon’s liking. “oh? good for you,”

“no— no,” jake leans over the table, really engrossed in telling his friend why this is the biggest sin he could’ve ever committed. “this need to stop. she deserves something proper, more than just convenient sex,”

and the latter can only furrow his brows at his words. jake might just be the first person to complaint about this. “is it that serious?”

“it is! she deserves more— better,” he is firm, adamant. there’s an extra emphasis on the way he says better, and he says it so condensingly as if he knows he cannot provide you with that, or maybe he is too scared too.

“does she?” sunghoon scoffs. “or do you want more?”

more.

he does like the sound of that.

jake would never admit it to you, maybe it’s fear, or maybe he doesn’t want to look like a loser in front of you.

he thinks you look the prettiest when you’re basking in the afterglow, hair sprawled over his pillows. when your lips are swollen from all the kissing, when you’re exhausted and too far ruined for another round— jake thinks you might be an angel.

when you asked him if you could stay over for the first time, he wondered if that was even conventional. is that a part of this arrangement? but he ignores that question, immediately grabbing a tshirt for you from his cupboard.

and now on nights you stay over, he stays awake fixing your blanket to make sure you aren’t cold. he can’t sleep— his heartbeat is way too loud on his ears. on nights like those, he fights back the urge to brush his knuckles over the soft skin of your cheek, to gently run his fingers through your hair and kiss you good night on the forehead.

on nights like those, jake wishes there was something more; but then the sun rises and you are gone— the cycle continues.

sunghoon stares at him from his peripheral. watching his friend zone out occasionally isn’t really new, and he taps his pen on the table to get him out of the trance. “i asked you a question,”

“oh, right— uh,” there’s hesitation, jake is thinking. “i’ll see you later,” and then he scurries off out of the study room with a newly found realisation.

sim jaeyun is terrible, terrible at self control.

it’s no news, just a touch from you gets him worked up. it’s a doucious sin, neither of you mind it. study sessions are an excuse, if anything. jake knows you aren’t any better. you can’t wait until fridays and honestly— he wouldn’t mind eating you out any day despite trying to be the voice of reason between you two. but jake, jaeyun, the way you say it, so sweet and breathlessly, the way you chant his name when he has you spread out on the farthest table in the library, when he’s pounding into you and you’re biting your lips to muffle any sounds— it’s heaven.

but back to him and his self control, absolutely terrible.

jake turns like a firefly to the light when he hears your voice. you have him enchanted, like a moth to a flame. he sees you walk out of your lecture hall and he is gone, tranced.

you look like an angel, you are an angel, irrevocably so. maybe it’s the fact that he hasn’t seen you in four days— his fault for avoiding you and now it’s coming back to bite him— but you look so incredible.

“hi, jake,” he thinks you are calling his name or maybe, it’s just his mind playing games, until you wave your hand in front of his face and bring him back to reality.

“hi,” he huffs, already breathless by the sight of you in your outfit. he doesn’t think he has seen you in that before and he is thanking every deity up there for letting him witness the sight in front of him.

“you good?” you raise your brows, you words once again get him out of his trail of thoughts. your voice is the only thing grounding him to reality and the sight of you is making him lose his mind— it’s everything that’s making him so crazy.

“yeah, very,” and he is ogling you in that outfit, undressing you with his eyes and barely even trying to hide it. god, he can feel himself getting hard just by looking at you. “you don’t know what seeing you in that does to me,”

he says it like a sinful secret, you’d be lying if it doesn’t rouse you a little. his gaze alone does the magic, already having your mind visiting places that would be deemed inappropriate by the code of conduct of your university.

“is that your way of saying i look beautiful?” you don’t let up. god, you are the death of him, looking him in the eyes with dirtiest innuendos, and jake would gladly die in your arms.

“yes. you look so beautiful,” he runs his eyes over the empty hallways before whispering against the shell of your ear. “it’s taking everything in me to not rip that off you,”

and jake doesn’t waste another second before pulling you inside the janitor’s room with him. he is quick with his hands, pushing you up against the door before kissing you hungrily.

it’s insanity how he works you up easily, like he knows you inch by inch. what you like and what you don’t— like having him kiss you messily while grinding his hips against yours— an action that takes you to heaven and back.

he feels your fingers trace over the back of his neck, making him shudder, and he is deliberately letting out a long exhale against your ear. he knows you are impatient, gosh, you always are, despite trying to be so calm and composed, only to be reduced to a puddle by just a few nips and kisses.

“so fucking pretty—” he whispers, pressing kisses along your cheeks, trailing them down to the corner of your lips just so he can hear how adorably you whine when he stops short.

he knows he is dragging this out, it’s evil but he loves it when you’re needy. he plants open mouth kisses against the column of your neck while undoing the buttons of your blouse. and he does it exactly the way that would get you worked up— slow, deliberate, teasing as his fingers brush over your breasts.

his lips find your neck, sucking gently at the sensitive skin while his hand pushes down your bra and trails down to your breasts as his thumb starts to circle your nipple. you clutch onto him, barely able to speak anything except. “jaeyun,”

“yeah,” he responds, grinning against your neck. he loves the way you say his name, like a prayer, like your life depends on it. “got a class after this, pretty?”

you can barely make out his words, only focusing on the way he slides his hand under your trousers, feeling the damp spot on your panties before pushing the flimsy cloth aside.

“yes, but it’s— oh, jake,” your words are cut short by a gasp when his finger finds your clit, and he grins at how you spread your legs instinctively.

“gotta keep that in mind,” he mumbles before capturing your lips in a rough kiss, half because he loves the feeling of his lips against yours, half because you do have a tendency to get loud when he’s working you out with his fingers.

his thumb rubs gentle circles against your sensitive bundle of nerves, barely giving you what you want. he drinks in every single moan and whimper that dances off your lips while your eyes are closed in bliss— he thinks this is the most beautiful you’ve ever been.

your voice is honeyed— needy and saccharine and breathe— and it has his mind fogging up in admiration. your head is thrown back against the door while he continues his ministrations, flicking your clit. jake could die happily in this very moment and he would have no complaints.

this is everything he desires for yet fears, just being with you makes his heart race in inexplicable ways. the way you’re drowning in pleasure and need, so lovely— it breaks his heart knowing this is only about sex.

his mind registers your moan when he sweeps his index finger across your clit but he is far too lost in his head to focus on anything. you deserved to be treasured, to be loved, like the precious thing that you are. you whine and roll your hips to meet his hand, eager for more, only for him to rip his fingers out.

“jake—” you’re pleading nonsense while clinging to him, but he is already mumbling apologies and fixing your outfit like this was never meant to happen.

“i’m sorry,” there’s a crack in his voice, a slight shakiness that paints confusion all over your face.

“what?” you are still out of breath and in disbelief, not sure if it’s because of his words or because he left you undone for the first time in three weeks.

and jake, hell, he sees the desperation in your eyes. he knows you need him; and he can give in with the way his cock is straining inside his pants but the ache in his chest is far more and worse.

he knows you deserve to be worshiped all over, to be kissed over your skin and told sweet nothings, to have someone who says your name like a chant. you deserve the entire world, instead of some weekly sex that you both are hiding from the entire world like a sin.

so, jake simply walks out of the door once he has fixed your clothes, saying just three words that leave you perplexed. “you deserve better,”

OO3 IN ALL WAYS THAT MATTER

i’m sorry.

you scoff to yourself.

you deserve better.

and you do it again, this time in disbelief. you flip the pen in your hands, barely paying attention to the material in front of you. for a second, you wonder if this was a joke, although nothing about it was funny. especially now the way jake left you high and dry in the janitor’s room a few days ago.

maybe he is conveniently and very politely trying to tell you that he doesn’t want to have sex with you anymore, hoping you aren’t offended— you do feel quite offended, actually.

jake had no complaints before this and you certainly don’t either.

you both work together just fine, having flexible schedules, communicating actively— well, except now— great in bed ( you would give yourself that. ) you don’t know when you grew a habit of sleeping over at his place, maybe it was when you started waking to the fragrance of freshly prepared food.

you don’t even know if this was a part of the deal. ‘i can’t leave you starving after last night,’ he what he would say as an excuse. it was awkward at first, then you started to find it fun, except when you two almost missed a test because you both got a little too busy in the kitchen.

he is handsome, sweet, kind, and generous with aftercare. he treats you like porcelain after ravishing you all night, like you’re something precious. he is good with his fingers and really fucking great with his mouth. it would be greedy to ask for anything more than having his face buried between your thighs on a weekly basis.

you try to think what you could have done wrong, only to end up with your hands devoid of an answer. you sometimes catch his eyes while passing by his lecture halls— he sits in the front— you don’t understand why he looks at you so much yearning while also running away from you.

no matter which way you think, you can’t find a rational explanation for everything he said to you three days ago.

you recognise jake’s perfume like the back of your hand. it’s woody with oud, oddly fitting for him. sometimes, you wake up with his scent lingering on your skin and it provides you a weird sense of comfort. your eyes follow his movements as he walks inside the library.

you almost wait for him to notice you and say something but he doesn’t. you wonder if he is ignoring you and end up calling out to him yourself. “fancy seeing you here,”

“oh, hi,” and he quite literally freezes at your voice. his heart only beats faster the longer he stares at you. you are angry, a little hurt, he can see it in your eyes. i’m sorry, he wants to say, but he chickens out like usual. “i’ll just— ”

“you’re avoiding me,” you retort, not wanting him to leave you hanging like the last time.

“i’m not—” and he defends himself, only to be cut off by your sharp words.

“stop lying, jake,” he figures that you are really mad, more than he expected you to be.and you wonder if this is even that serious— you two are literally just fuck buddies, but you still find yourself continuing. “you’re ignoring my calls and not even replying to my texts,”

an eerie silence follows. you’ve barely known him for a couple of weeks and can still tell that this is not jake— quiet, lost, speechless, with a gaze that meets everything but your eyes.

“sorry,” is all he is able to say. he does feel guilty. heck, more than he did while trying to fuck you in the janitor’s room. jake feels like the worst guy ever, all because of this stupid situation he got you both into.

it’s stupid, you conclude. you don’t even know what you’re upset at. if it’s his words from that day, his unexpected apology or the fact that he walked out on you in the middle of whatever you were doing, without explanation. “if you don’t want to have sex with me anymore, that’s fine—”

“i never said that,” his voice is firm and his next words are determined, like they’re the only ones that matter. “i just said you deserve more,”

“but i am content with this!” you almost want to throw something. jake is refusing to have sex with you because he thinks you deserve better— it feels straight out a poorly written script of a movie. “i’m happy with what we have, i don’t want to be greedy,”

“no, you should be greedy,” he is adamant, shaking his head and all. “you’re amazing— wonderful, you deserve better than some empty sex every week,”

no, you can’t be stupid— he is.

it would be the first time in the history of any friends with benefits arrangement that this is happening. you realise that you can go on for hours about how you are happy with him fucking you every week and he would still refuse respectfully, telling you that you deserve better.

you don’t even think you are mad anymore, just amused. despite his serious voice, you find yourself biting back a giggle at his slightly red face. he’s standing in front of you, arms crossed, actually frowning and fighting for your supposed loss in this arrangement which was mutually agreed upon.

“if i didn’t know any better, i’d assume this is your bad attempt at flirting,” you manage to chuckle and he is already pulling out a chair next to you.

it’s like his breath gets caught up in his throat and he is tapping his finger on the table just as fast as his heartbeat. “what if it is?” maybe, he is just taking your chances, maybe he’ll end up making a fool out of himself— it doesn’t matter anymore.

“jaeyun,” you whine, your fingers pulling on his soft locks when he draws his finger inside your wet hole, almost chuckling as you arch your back off the seat.

“didn’t even do much yet,” he scoffs mockingly, head slanting forward until you could feel his breath against your folds. “you’re already that fucked out?”

it’s your fault, clearly.

you shouldn’t have tried arguing with jake in the middle of library, definitely shouldn’t have tried to rile him up by trying to stroke him through his pants while he was trying to focus on his studies so desperately.

you knew acting up would get you in trouble and you have quite literally landed in the hands of trouble itself— in the backseat of his car with your legs spread open— although, you doubt you would have it any other way.

“oh, shut up—” you huff, still having a little bit of attitude and honestly, jake finds it cute, but so is everything else about you.

you make a throaty cry when he adds another finger, closing your doused eyes when he places a tender kiss on your clit. he’s doing it with practiced ease, knowing you inside-out like anyone else. you’re breathing in deep and exhaling sharply while he strokes your sloppy wet cunt with the tip of his tongue.

he hums satisfactorily at how good you taste. it’s like drugs and he is addicted.

“jake,” you let out a whine, riddled with impatience. “please,”

sometimes, you ask yourself why you are unable to say anything except his name and desperate plea when he has you like this. as if on cue, he presses a few feather light kisses over your dripping folds and hooks his hand under your thighs to pull you closer, already aligning himself at your entrance.

“you’re so beautiful,” he teases his tip at your entrance, adoring your chest with light kisses that are ever so gentle. “so, so, precious,”

you wrap your arms around his neck almost like you don’t want to let him go. he is teasing you and it’s too good and too painful, all at once, and you can only let out a breathy “jake—”

“i want you so bad, baby,” and jake would rather die than keep you waiting. so, he inches into you slowly, head finding your neck instantly as you squeeze him tighter than the last time he fucked you. “in ways more than one,” he whispers a breathy confession, pressing his nose against the side of your neck. “in all ways that matter,”

he wonders if you realise that your heartbeats are in sync.

he lets out a soft groan, drawn and breathy as your walls squeeze around him with each thrust. you whimper when he hits a certain spot and he only lets out a low moan when you suck him deeper.

“fuck—right there, jaeyun!” you’re breathing much more erratic now, raising your hips to meet his. and jake wonders if you know how you get him going when you call him that.

it’s just his name, someone would argue, but the way you say it, so sweet and desperate, coated in your lovely voice.. he likes how it rolls off your tongue. you say it like it’s your right and it is— he is your jaeyun.

he speeds up his thrusts when he feels you getting closer. he pulls away from your neck and loses himself in how ethereal you look, the glow of your face surpassing the stars.

you tug him by his hair pull him into a kiss. he kisses you carefully, unlike his hips pounding into you. his lips move with tenderness, with adoration, and he pulls back to look into your eyes. “go on a date with me, darling,”

“what?” you’re not quite sure if you heard that correctly. you could very well be out of your mind, considering how he is fucking you brainless.

honestly, you can barely think about anything, too busy thinking about how good his cock feels inside you, the way he is moving. he angles his hips better, just the way it would make you come, and you let out a cry.

“i want to give you— fuck —better,” you know it just by his voice that he is close, with the way he moves inside you so desperately. “andnif we’re gonna keep fucking, you have to go on a date with me first,”

and it makes you laugh at how he is so determined to ask you out even in this state, when either of you can barely think, only breathing and groaning heavily. your walls spasm around him as you let go with a whine and he follows with a loud grunt. he presses his forehead against yours, continuing to slam his hips into you and fucking you both through the orgasm.

he slumps on top of you when you both finish, catching his breath. his eyes are closed and he plants a kiss on your temple when he feels you nuzzle in the crook of his neck.

“what if it doesn’t work out?” you finally manage to whisper after a while, not sure if you are scared or just stating a possibility.

but jake sees right through you, as always, pressing soft, gentle kisses on your cheeks with the sweetest smile. “not a chance,”

[arolesbianism]

I've been doing a casual second lob corp playthrough for fun and one thing that I've really come to adore is how the different success rates can paint a pretty cool image of how work with it looks like at different levels of each work type and while I think it's kind of sad that base game you can't see the work percentages I also think it in a way adds a fun game of is this marginally harder at level five than four or is my guy just being bad at their job

[bizarrelovetriangel]

spoiled.

this was going to be sylus' portion of this fic but it ended up being exactly like what i wrote for rafayel so i changed it. i then planned on posting it for his birthday week but i ended up writing something else. but i figured i'd post this one too anyways. kinda short and unedited sorry !!

mdni. 18+ only. bathroom sex.

It's the morning the 19th of April, the day after Sylus' birthday.

After karaoke night with the twins and Mephisto, you and Sylus stayed for a few more hours past midnight. You enjoyed a little more dessert before getting tangled up in each other's bodies on the sheets of his bed.

You woke up to the sight of marks all the parts of your body that would be hidden by your clothes. You also can't ignore the soreness that took over your muscles, particularly on your legs.

You hoped that a warm bath would help, so you abandoned the comfortable bed earlier than planned and threw in his bathtub one of the bathbombs that you bought for Sylus and yourself.

As you were humming to a song and coating yourself with a flowery-scented soap, you suddenly got company.

Dressed in nothing but his sleeping robe, Sylus wore a soft, small smile as he admired your figure. He recalled the fresh memories of stripping you down as if unwrapping a birthday gift, and eating you up so that he could remember how you taste for the next set of days that you'll have to be separated.

His own thoughts caused blood to rush down to his hips.

He wants to feel you again.

"Won't you make some room for me, sweetie?"

His bathtub is more than big ebough for the two of you, so you didn't even really need to move. He only asked if you'd be comfortable with it. After folding your legs against your chest, you told him to go ahead.

Sylus slipped off the robe of his body and you flushed at all the marks that you left on his skin. Well, it's only fair, you suppose: he wears your marks, and you wear his.

He sat on the opposite side of the bathtub, facing you and resting his arms on the rim. Even though the bathtub is spatious, his long legs playfully nudges yours as placed them alongside each other.

In return, you flicked some soap bubbles towards him, sending splattering on top of his head.

He chuckled and shook his head. "You don't have to sit so far away, kitten."

You jokingly narrowed your eyes at him. "If I come closer, you're not gonna do anything weird, are you?"

"I won't make any promises."

You joined him in his side of the bathtub and rested your back against his chest. Almost immediately, Sylus rested his chin on your left shoulder while grabbing your right hand and intertwining your fingers together.

His eyes were fixated on your face while you helped cover his arms in soap, making him smell like flowers just like you.

After washing off the soap from your bodies, you relaxed against him with your eyes closed. You felt his arms enclose around your figure before planting a kiss on your forehead.

For a moment, you two sat in peaceful silence, just enjoying each other's presence.

Then, you felt something poking your back.

"Sylus..."

His cock twitched as you called his name. You felt his warm breath hitch by your ear, and his chest moved up and down.

Your right hand went to this thighs and slowly made its way between them, wrapping him around your fingers. He grunts before biting your ear and cupping your breasts with his hands.

You moved your hand up and down his cock faster as you him get harder. Soon enough, he was thrusting his hips into your hand and leaving his teeth marks onto your neck.

"...need you...."

You gasped quietly as Sylus spun you around and put you onto his lap before putting himself inside you.

The water rippled as your bodies moved up and down, mirrors and windows fogging up as the room becomes steamy.

Sylus lets out an annoyed grunt, not liking the lack of space for himself to move.

"Hold on, sweetie."

"What — ah!"

He stood up and carried you with him to leave the bathtub, all while his cock is still inside you. He stood by mirror but he didn't set you down.

He kept you hanging onto him and grabbed your ass before pushing you up and down, while at the same time his hips thrusted back and forth.

The sound of your skin slapping echoed throughout the room, and you recalled Sylus saying it wasn't soundproof so you muffled your moans by pressing your mouth onto his chest.

Sylus, however, didn't bother holding back his groans as he increases his pace pounding into you.

Still, he feels like it wasn't enough.

He couldn't get enough of you.

He wanted to see your face as he hits the deepest parts of you.

Sylus suddenly came out of you and gently set you down, only for him to softly push you against the vanity, spread your legs wide open and fuck you even harder and faster.

His eyes focused on your expression as he drilled into you right before pulling out and messily cumming all over your thighs and stomach. You came not long after him, resting your forehead against his chest as you catch your breath.

Sylus planted a kiss on top of your head. "My birthday is already over and yet you've given me such a wonderful gift this morning. So, this is what it feels like to be spoiled."

[swtheartz]

i loved your little drabble of the “breaking up with mark doesn’t work” post and i’d really like to hear your thoughts on how that would go down with some of his variants if you have the time pretty please🫶✨

ohh of course dear !! been thinking abt it and this req inspired me even more info : obsessive behavior, mentions and acts of murder, stalking, he’s crazy in every universe. gn!reader a / n : this is a gift to you guys for 348 followers. i’m soo grateful n happy <33

SINISTER MARK

he thinks it’s a joke at first. you’ve no real reason to actually want to leave him, right? he’s utterly convinced that there was nothing wrong with the relationship. and to be fair, there wasn’t. other than the fact he was possessive as shit and always had tabs on you. would scare off your friends and constantly linger around you whenever he wasn’t terrorizing the masses. the second he realizes that you’re serious? he doesn’t take it very well. you won’t ever find someone better than him. he won’t let you. just what human could ever be better than him?

“You’re not very good at jokes,” Mark says—voice and expression both hauntingly blank. It sends chills down your spine for the simple fact he’s never had such an empty tone. The way he looks at you is something that you can’t exactly put into words. Maybe he’s disappointed. Maybe he’s annoyed, or expectant, or some other emotion that you cannot be bothered to decipher. Not when there’s blood staining your clothes and his, the floor, your cheeks and his hands. Whatever ‘friend’ you were hanging out with was dead before they’d hit the ground. It’s been twelve days since you had gathered the courage to tell Mark you wanted a break, and it took him this long to take you seriously. Thought, it hadn’t taken much effort for him to take a life. “I don’t know why you thought this was a good idea. . .” He hummed, tilting his head as he crouched down in front of you, watching you tremble like a deer in front of an incomprehensible creature. ”But let’s not do this again, hm?”

OMNI MARK

calm. at least, he seems calm. but he also doesn’t take you very seriously. acts as he usually does, even asks you when the next date night is. as if he’ll even be able to make it with his schedule and how often he cancels on you. looks at you as though you’ve said something ludicrous when you answer that there isn’t a date night—you’re not together anymore. surely, you don’t know what you’re talking about. if you wanted him to plan the next date, you could have just told him. he’s usually the one that does all the thinking, anyway, so it doesn’t really matter. honestly, what made you think you could walk away from him? the one human he cares for, and you’ve the nerve to try and separate from him? funny.

“We’re not dating, Mark.” The way the two of you stare at each other for a few tense moments is a little awkward, though he doesn’t seem to care. He holds eye contact with you before sighing—like you’re a child who doesn’t know what they’re talking about. Like you’ve garnered the nerve to tell some dry joke. “If you have a problem,” Mark starts, arms crossed against his chest as he ignores your exasperated expression, “we talk it out. Like a couple is supposed to do.” “But we’re not a couple anymore. That is what I’m telling you.” You’re attempting to be reasonable, you really are, but you swear up and down he’s making you feel like the crazy one. This has got to be the third time you’ve had this conversation with him, and it hasn’t even been a week. There isn’t any way you can get through to him and you just don’t understand why. Mark scoffs, again, ignoring you. “I’ll make sure I’m not busy. Crime’s been going down, so it should be fine. They’ll manage without me.” “Just kill me already.” You mutter to yourself, unable to decide whether or not you’ll be able to ever get your point across. . . . You’ll just try again tomorrow.

FULL MASK MARK

more pathetic than mainstream mark. this man is like a wet cat in the rain. tries to maintain distance, but ends up following you everyday, texts you without thinking about it while he attempts to reason that it’s okay. you just need some distance and time, and maybe you’ll both get better. ends up outside your window after a particularly bad fight with a villain he had. he didn’t do it on purpose, he just sort of ended up here. call it muscle memory if you will. all he knows is that he’s a mess without you—needs you like oxygen, can barely think or focus on anything without you. probably the only one that tries to be the best he can be for you outside of the main universe. and probably the only one you didn’t really want to break up with.

“ ‘m sorry.”

“Markus.”

“ ‘m sorry,” Mark sniffles, face tucked into your neck as he clings to you. You’d think of it as pathetic if it were anyone but him, honestly. He’d shown up with your favorite candy and drink, bloody and looking like a stray abandoned on the side of the street. You practically had to drag him through the window when he tried to turn back around. It took a bit of insisting and a med-kit to get him cleaned and patched up, despite him reminding you that he technically didn’t need it. You snapped at him to shut up before inevitably pulling him to your room again—letting him stay the night was an easy decision, almost too easy. As of right now, he was simply listening to the sound of your heartbeat, your soft breathing, enjoying the way your gentle fingers tangled in his hair. It was sweet. Familiar. Something Mark had missed so much it made his heart ache and hurt, to the point felt as though it was being ripped apart. Though, if it were done by your hands, he wouldn’t mind.

a / n : i liked writing this, i might make a part two to this and i’m gonna make the healer reader thing a series if you guys are up to reading that. mwah mwahhhh

taglist : @lxkoluvsu // @broicouldjustbuyyousomekombucha // @tokoyamisstuff

[cherrygirlfriend]

golfing

bsf!rafe teaching ditzy!reader to golf

warnings: smut, golf (it's a warning), MDNI

i have not played golf since i was 14 and i sucked at it so don't blame me if i don't know how it works i only care about golf when it's abt golf daddy ... originally posted 10/15/2024

you'd never really been interested in any kind of sports; sure, when you were in high school you did cheer, but since then, most of the physical activity you did was running or pilates, and something you definitely had no interest in was golf, and that was something not even a cute golfing outfit had managed to change.

"i dunno 'bout this, rafey..." you said, playing with the hem of your pink golf skirt. "i'd just much rather watch you play."

"come on, sweets, you already agreed to it."

"rafe, why did you even bring her along?" topper sighed exasperatedly, and that earned a piercing look from rafe, as well as a pouty look from you, causing him to throw up his hands, going to position himself.

"come on, what happened to 'trying new things'? i mean, i agreed to do some girly shit you wanna do if you do this for me."

"but rafeee," you whined, pointed out your freshly done nails, "these nails aren't meant to go near balls, why do you think i don't give you handjobs?"

"jesus christ," rafe snorted, unable to resist laughing, although he knew by the look on your face that you were fully serious, before straightening his face. in all fairness, your nails were pretty long, "if something happens to your nails, i'll pay to have 'em done again. now get your pretty ass here. you're not getting out of this." he said, holding out his hand.

you hopped off the golf cart with a huff, your glossy lower lip pushed forward in a pout that made rafe want to kiss it off your face. reluctantly, you took his hand, and he pulled you closer to his body in a way that made your heart race.

"alright, take this." he said, picking up one of his clubs and handing it to you. rafe showed you how to hold it, standing right behind you, his front right up against your back, gently holding onto your hips.

"you know, if you wanted to feel me up, you could've just asked."

"i don't need an excuse to feel you up." rafe grinned, pressing a kiss on your bare shoulder, before fixing your hold on the club with his own hands. "alright, feet further apart." he mumbled, as he pushed your feet further apart before stepping back. looking over you with slightly narrowed eyes, his thumb slightly pulling at his lower lip in concentration.

"bend your knees." rafe said, and the commanding tone of his voice caused a shiver to go down your spine as you did what he told, all the while biting your bottom lip. "good girl..." he murmured, fully focusing on getting your form correctly, unaware of the effect he was having on you. "wait, hold on." he said, once again moving to stand behind you, both of his hands on your hips as he pulled them back slightly, your heart now fully pounding against your chest.

"perfect." he stood back again, "alright, when you swing, remember to twist your body as you do. you ready?"

you nodded, your face flushed as you swung, making sure to twist your body as you did so, and when the ball launched away, you turned to rafe with a cheerful expression, throwing your hands in the air. "i did it!"

"you did." he chuckled; to be honest, he had no idea where the hell the ball even landed; all he had been focused on was you.

"can you position me again?" you said, twirling your hair as you bit down on your lip.

after around an hour of golfing, you, rafe and his friends made your way to the country club, the boys talking about getting drinks, but the moment you got inside, you made an excuse to rafe's friends about how you needed his help with something, only to tug him into the women's bathroom, pushing him against the door, your lips on his in a second as if you'd drown if you didn't devour every part of him at that moment.

when he finally pulled away, leaving you feel even hungrier for him, rafe looked down at you in a slight daze, "what's this?" he grinned, his hands finding their way onto your hips, only for you to grab one of his hands, bringing it to the waistband of your skirt, rafe's eyes widening when he realized what you were after.

you looked into his eyes, your hand over his as you guided it down your skirt and down your panties, letting out a sigh when you felt his fingers on your folds, the small chuckle he let out making you bite down on your lip, "shit, you're soaked, huh?"

nodding, you looked up at him, your pupils blown wide as you waited for him to tell you what to do, the blonde chewing on his lower lip as he thought before clearing his throat. "'right, take your panties off and sit on the counter." he said, locking the door.

you slid your panties off, hopping to sit on the marble counter with your still on. "attagirl." rafe said, coming over to you. he took hold of your chin, making you look up at him, before kissing you so fleetingly it almost made your lips burn, "gonna be quiet f'me?"

"mmhm..." you hummed in what was almost a whine, only making him tsk.

"i don't believe you." he said, pressing a quick peck on your lips, "open your mouth." rafe commanded, and you did as he said, only to have your own panties stuffed in your mouth, tasting your own arousal on the fabric. "now you will."

he got on his knees, wrapping his arms around the backs of your thighs as he tugged you closer to him, your skirt allowing you to slide to the edge of the counter while you held onto a to a paper towel dispenser, rafe pulling up your skirt with a hungry look in his eyes.

"look so fucking good, baby..." he mumbled, starting to press kisses up your thigh, getting painfully close to your folds, making you to let out a whine from behind your panties, only for rafe to smack your inner thigh, "quiet. 'm trying to enjoy my meal here."

you threw your head back against the mirror when you finally felt rafe lick a stripe up your cunt, biting down on the lace of your panties, your hand gripping onto the paper towel dispenser even harder when you felt his tongue lapping at your entrance, his grip on your thighs tightening when you felt the hilt of his tongue against your walls, before pulling back.

"so good..." he muttered against your pussy, causing vibrations to go down through your body, rafe pulling one of his arms away from your thigh, letting it rest against the marble, while the other brought your other thigh to rest on his shoulder. he gathered some of your wetness into his fingers, the tips of his fingers teasing your entrance while his lips pressed kisses on your puffy clit, your whole body feeling like it was on fire.

when rafe finally pushed his fingers into you, your back arched all over again, finally feeling some proper release. his ring was cold against your pussy as he pumped his digits in and out of you, slowly building up his pace.

he started occasionally flicking your clit with his tongue, and every time rafe did so, he could see your eyes roll back into your head.

the pace of his fingers were relentless as you started clenching around them slightly, and he couldn't help but grin, knowing you were close, and that's when rafe attached his lips to your clit, starting to suck on it while his fingers thrust in and out of you, and you couldn't help the whines and moans you were letting out, luckily muffled by the lacy fabric.

"that's it..." rafe mumbled against your pussy, making your entire body vibrate, "come on my fingers, pretty girl..."

you couldn't help it, the band in your abdomen that had been building up since you stood on that golf course finally snapping when rafe attached his lips back to your puffy clit, your walls starting to spasm around his fingers in a way that made him groan as you felt yourself making a mess of what little counter was under you.

rafe started slowing down his fingers, letting you ride out your orgasm, pressing a small kiss on your clit before he pulled his lips away, looking up at you, and when you looked at him with half-lidded eyes, his lips were so gloriously puffy and covered in you.

finally, he pulled out his fingers and stood up straight, taking your panties out of your mouth and dropping them to your lap while your head felt so gloriously fuzzy and empty. rafe pressed his lips on yours, and you could taste your arousal on him as his tongue entered your mouth.

when rafe pulled away, he let out a chuckle, "mmm, look so pretty 'n dumb right now." he brought his fingers to your lips, "open up and clean up for me, pretty girl."

[rindreamery]

more than friends?

moments that make you reconsider if you’re really just friends with blue lock men. featuring: itoshi rin, itoshi sae, michael kaiser, oliver aiku ─ content: can be determined as mostly gn! reader. can count as fluff, but mostly suggestive. mentions of alcohol consumption (aiku), mentions of a dress (kaiser, implied but not stated fem! reader), kaiser is mean

note. haven't made a hc post in a hot minute. situationships hc coming next cus i unfortunately, oddly enough, like situationships LMAOO i also just have too many irl situationship inspo

an almost kiss with itoshi rin.

“rin, can you help me get this?” turning your body to face him, the words die in your throat.

you realize a second too late that he’s standing right behind you, reaching for whatever you asked him to previously— and you almost crash right into his chest. he’s close. so close that you can feel the heat emanating from his skin, despite the blast of the air conditioning above you. that you can practically feel his shallow breaths ghost over your face. 

as he brings his arm down to hand you the book, head tilting down to look at you, you lock eyes. a second passes, or two, before it clicks in his mind what position you’re in. and you both freeze, seemingly frozen in place, and in time. 

rin’s eyes widen, and his breath gets caught in his throat, audibly hitching. but he doesn’t take a step back, nor does he make any move to put some comfortable distance between the two of you. though, to be fair, neither do you— keeping you stuck in whatever weird space the two of you have put yourselves in.  

the first one to break eye contact is you. your eyes flit to his lips, watching as they part to take a breath, before you can even process exactly what you’re doing. you stare a little too long, lingering for a second longer than necessary. before your eyes fly back to his in a panic, only to see that he’s staring at your lips too. 

it feels like you’re blacking out— and maybe, you are. you don’t remember the exact moment when your body started gravitating towards him, or when he started leaning in a little closer too. your bodies seemingly move on their own, listening to your hearts and not your minds, ignoring the blatant alarms going off in your heads. you’re leaning in, just a little, inching slowly and testing for any reaction from him. you can see his adam’s apple bob as he gulps, and you see the exact moment his eyes cloud over, before he’s mirroring you. you think for a second that, maybe, this is really happening. 

his lips are a breath away, and the distance between you is almost nonexistent. you can practically feel his lips on yours— so close, almost there. just a little more and you’ll have a taste. he's closing the gap, your eyes fluttering shut in response, and so does his, in tandem. the rush of excitement you feel is undeniable— the way your nerves fire with sparks under your skin, tingling. 

but then your phone rings.

the shrill sound of your ringtone cuts through the air, snapping the two of you out of your daze. your eyes fly open, and you both jerk back immediately, trying to put as much distance between you two as possible. the moment is effectively ruined; the thick, hazy, palpable tension that once surrounded the two of you is now filled with an awkward, uncertain air. 

as you both pull away, neither of you say anything, too flustered to speak. he’s avoiding looking into your eyes, staring at the ground as if he were wishing it would swallow him whole. and, really, you can’t judge. you’re looking everywhere but rin, trying to calm your heart into something that doesn’t feel like arrhythmia. 

there’s an unspoken agreement that hangs in the air— a silent promise that neither of you will bring this up ever again, too afraid to risk your friendship. but, deep down, you know it’s something neither of you can forget.

receiving jewelry from itoshi sae.

gifts from sae were always unexpected and random. 

in his hand is a simple, and undeniably beautiful necklace— something he knows you like. something he's heard you talk about for months, seen on opened tabs on your laptop as he passes by, heard in conversations with friends during your phone calls. it was always something he’d kept in the back of his mind, always an open tab in his phone. even offering to buy it for you before, in passing, which was met with a hard ‘no’ from you. still, he pushes his hand to you, offering the gift now. 

“sae,” you hesitate, words trailing off as you figure out what to say. speechless would be an understatement. feeling grateful, in awe, and mildly embarrassed all at once. you can feel your cheeks heating up, looking at the necklace in his hands as you avoid his watchful eyes. “i already said you didn’t have to buy it for me. i was going to buy it… eventually.”

“want me to put it on you?” your words fly over his head, or maybe, he’s simply ignoring it. 

you press your lips into a line, finally looking into his eyes, as you hold in a shallow sigh of defeat— already coming to terms that, regardless of what you say, nothing would change his mind. so instead you nod, offering him a small and thankful smile, finally accepting the gift. 

“turn around,” he tells you, fingers already working on unclasping the necklace in his hands. you listen, turning around and waiting with baited breath as he moves to stand behind you. he inches closer than necessary, looming behind you in a way that makes you so hyperaware of him. the feeling of his fingers as they brush over your shoulder to loop the necklace around you, his steady breath on the nape of your neck— you feel it all at an elevated level. 

you gasp as the cool metal of the necklace hits your skin, in contrast to the warmth of his fingers as they make work of the clasp. it takes a few seconds, before you feel the clasp fall against your neck, but his fingers stay on your skin. tracing the line of the necklace as it travels to the junction of your shoulder. 

“do you like it?” sae leans down, whispering the words into your ears. you ignore the warmth that sweeps over your body, holding tight onto the necklace between your fingers, admiring the way it looks against your skin. 

“yeah, i do. it’s perfect.” you nod, your voice quiet and weak, unable to focus from the way your head starts to spin at the proximity. you can hear him let out a satisfied hum behind you, leaning back just a little to give you some space. “thank you, really.”

but he doesn’t pull away, and you feel his eyes on your neck as you twiddle with the jewelry in your fingers. 

unreasonable jealousy from michael kaiser.

“does this dress look nice?” pulling out a dress from deep in your closet, you pull it closer to your body before facing kaiser. 

he sits comfortably on your bed, resting on the headrest as he scrolls through his phone, looking bored out of his mind. his eyes are hooded, body slumped, and sighing loudly every five minutes as if urging you to get this over with. though, you suppose in his defense, you’d been doing this for the past two hours. with little to no progress being made. 

never putting his phone down, he glances at you, then the dress, and then back at you. there’s an unamused expression on his face, both brows raising imperceptibly and letting out a derisive laugh, and it makes the smile on your face falter for a second. “why are you trying so hard to impress this guy, anyway?” as hard as he tries to hide the contempt in his voice, trying to mask it with his usual mocking tone, it slips through. “next dress.”

you blink, caught off guard by the sudden edge in his voice, an elusive frown forming on your face. "what do you mean?" you ask, suppressing a sigh as your arms fall to your side, the fabric of the dress bunching up as you grip it between your fingers.

you don’t want to put it down yet— refusing to put it next to you on the pile of other pretty, rejected clothes.

kaiser doesn’t immediately answer, but you notice the way his thumb scrolls slower across his phone screen now. his gaze flickers back to you, scrutinizing, and almost annoyed? evident in the way his lips press into a tight line, jaw clenching and unclenching as he sorts through his thoughts. a brief, almost unnoticeable, flicker of frustration crosses his features before he slumps even further, his voice quieter but more pointed. "it’s just a first date. don’t you think it's kind of pathetic? all this effort for some guy you’re not even sure is going to stick around?"

his words sting more than you want them to. 

the dress feels heavier in your hands, like a weight you're not sure you want to carry anymore— and frankly, it ruins any excitement you have for your date. you bite your lip, chewing on the skin. you want to ask him why he even cares, why he's hell bent on making you think that every man is bound to ditch you after the first date, why he can’t seem to be happy for you.  

you hold up the dress, this time with less confidence. "i didn’t know wanting to look good for a date was such a crime." admittedly, your voice is snappy and irritated, almost glaring at him from where you stand. 

“it’s not.” he says, ignoring the heated look in your eyes. “looking good for other men is, though.”

going drinking with oliver aiku.

from being friends with aiku for practically all of your life, you’d think you know better than to say ‘yes’ to his whims. but it seems that time has only weakened your resolve.

“come here.” aiku sits lazily on the couch, an arm slung over the backrest, his legs parting to comfortably make space for you. you watch him in silence from where you sit, raising a brow at him as he throws you that signature smirk of his— before he’s patting the space between his legs, motioning for you to come over. “help me drink?”

“what?” comes your surprised response, mouth dry and voice cracking as you speak. despite your loose state, your back straightens at his words, and you grip the glass in your hands. “what do you mean ‘help… you drink’?”

“pour a shot into my mouth. the one you’re holding in your hand right now.” he motions to it with a nod of his head, voice slightly slurring but way too casual for your liking. as if what he was asking were normal, and totally not crossing some unspoken boundary between friends. “come on, just this once.”

the logical part of your mind screams at you from somewhere in your head, telling you not to do it. but it’s quickly tamped down by his pleading eyes, and the ‘please’ that slips past his lips. you get up and you take your time walking over to the couch, treading with short and slow steps, giving yourself a chance to back down.

but you don’t. 

with an uncertain look on your face, you place a knee between his legs, a hand shooting out to steady yourself as you lean over him. the hand holding the glass is shaking— from nerves, or from being mildly inebriated, or maybe a hefty mix of both— the drink sloshing around as you carry it to him. you feel his hands on your waist, firm and warm, preventing you from tipping over.

finally finding the courage to look into his eyes, you do. they’re so unfocused, yet so focused on you, and it makes you breathe in heavily, as if second guessing the normality of what you’re about to do. sensing your hesitation, his fingers squeeze at your waist. “go on.”

it's reckless and impulsive, but clearly, you aren't in the right state to be making smart decisions. your fingers hook under his chin, his eyes intently honing in on you as you do so, as you bring the glass to his lips. you press it against his lips, watching as they part to make space for the intrusion, before his fingers latch onto your wrist.

he doesn’t break eye contact as he guides you, gaze heavy and imposing, that it almost makes you want to pull away. but you can’t— his hands keep you firmly in place. you’re forced (though, you know a part of you willingly stares) to watch as he guides your hand to tilt the glass, pouring the contents into his mouth. 

aiku’s fingers linger on your skin even when the drink is long gone, and it makes you squirm. you cough, bringing one of your hands to your mouth to form a fist, as you bashfully look away. “all done here now, right?”

a beat passes, before you feel the heat of his hands leave your skin, “yeah.” and you pull away from him.

© rindreamery, 2025

[lovemni]

ᓚ₍ ^. .^₎ ∘ ∘ ‪ 승민 ; HOLD ME TIGHT ── aftercare with your boyfriend, after a particularly long and rough night.

𓍯 idolbf!seungmin ʚଓ fem!reader ：（ 𝒾 ）1k ── ༯ HEADCANON, fluff, humour, aftercare, bit suggestive, req. by anon! . ⸝⸝𓂃 LiBRARY . /ᐠ.ꞈ.ᐟ\ྀིྀི

yani's note ˖˙ ᰋ woohoo, double post !! might post again today, cause i feel like it. thank you to my luv, anon, for requesting this, hope i have written it to your expectations! (╥﹏╥). jeongin's next ;3. so many asks, i'm gonna be posting daily, please be patient hehe. comments, requests, asks likes and reblogs are always appreciated ! comment/ask if you want to be added to my mastertag ! happy reading <3

the dim lighting of the bedroom cast soft shadows over the minimalistic walls, the faint glow of moonlight spilling in through the window. it was quiet now, save for the occasional rustle of sheets and the low hum of the heater working to keep the chill of winter at bay.

seungmin knelt on the bed beside his girlfriend, his hands working meticulously at her shoulders, thumbs digging gently into the knots he was sure he'd caused. his brows were knit in concentration, his usually sharp eyes softened with guilt. he rarely ever got like this—serious, cautious, and so full of concern it made y/n want to burst out laughing again, but she bit her lip to hold it in. for now.

"you’re laughing in your head, aren’t you?" seungmin asked flatly, his voice low but laced with exasperation.

"no," she lied, her lips twitching as she bit back a giggle.

seungmin paused, fixing her with his trademark deadpan glare. "do you think i’m joking? i feel terrible, y/n. terrible." he exaggerated.

she turned her head slightly to glance at him, cheek smushed against the pillow. his fingers froze on her shoulder blades, a slight pout tugging at the corner of his lips. god, he was adorable. for someone who prided himself on being savage and composed, seungmin looked like a kicked puppy right now.

"min, you’re literally being ridiculous," she said, her voice brimming with amusement. "i told you i’m fine. i liked it."

his expression didn’t change. "i was too rough. you winced like…twice. that’s two times too many."

y/n rolled her eyes dramatically, flipping onto her back despite his protests of "stay still, i’m trying to help." she reached out to cup his cheek, her fingers warm against his skin. "first of all, i winced because i was overwhelmed, in a good way. secondly, you apologizing twenty-seven times is going to make me start keeping a tally."

seungmin blinked at her, his lips twitching into the faintest semblance of a smile before it disappeared again. "it’s not funny."

"it’s very funny," she teased, sticking out her tongue. "you’re being such a baby about this, it’s cute."

"..not cute," he retorted, his ears burning red as he avoided her gaze. his hands returned to her shoulders, his touch feather-light now, as if he feared breaking her. "you’re impossible."

"and you’re overthinking. i’m fine. actually, i’m better than fine—i had a great time. you’re just melodramatic," she quipped, letting her voice drop into mock-seriousness.

"melodramatic?" he echoed, scandalized, his hands pausing mid-massage. he tilted his head, narrowing his eyes at her. "that’s rich coming from you, miss ‘do you think my soul left my body just now?’."

y/n erupted into laughter, clutching her stomach as she replayed her own words from earlier in her head. "okay, fair, but in my defense, it did feel like that."

"right. that’s why i’m apologizing," seungmin muttered, shaking his head but unable to hide the upward curl of his lips this time.

she reached up to grab his hands, pulling him down to lay beside her. he came willingly but let out a small grunt of protest. "i’m not done—"

"you’re done," she interrupted, poking his cheek. "come here and stop worrying. it’s getting embarrassing."

"embarrassing," he repeated, tone dripping with mock disbelief. he turned onto his side to face her, propping his head up with his hand. "that’s it. i’m officially offended."

"oh no," she said dramatically, clasping her hands to her chest. "what will i do if the kim seungmin is offended? whatever shall i—"

he reached out to clamp a hand over her mouth, shaking his head. "y/n. stop. talking."

her muffled giggle turned into a full-blown laugh as she shoved his hand away, and he groaned, flopping back onto the bed. she turned to face him, their noses almost touching now. his sharp features softened in the dim light, his usually playful smirk replaced with something tender.

"seriously, though," he murmured, his voice quieter now. "i don’t want to hurt you. ever."

y/n felt her chest tighten at the sincerity in his tone. she reached up to trace the line of his jaw with her fingertips, her touch light but grounding. "i know," she whispered. "and you didn’t. i trust you, seung."

his eyes searched hers for a moment, as if looking for any sign of doubt, but all he found was the warmth and reassurance that she always gave him. he sighed, finally letting the tension seep out of his shoulders as he relaxed beside her.

"you’re so annoying," he muttered, but his lips quirked up at the corners.

"and you’re dramatic," she shot back, poking his chest.

for a moment, the room was filled with a comfortable silence. seungmin reached out, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her closer. he wasn’t usually one for skinship—he’d much rather tease her from across the room than cuddle—but moments like these, when the world was quiet and it was just the two of them, he let himself indulge.

"can we just agree that i was a little rough and move on?" he asked after a beat, his voice muffled as he buried his face in her hair.

y/n hummed thoughtfully. "mmm, no. i’m gonna milk this for at least another week."

"of course you are," he deadpanned, his fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on her back. "you’re lucky i love you."

"aw, you love me?" she teased, leaning back to look at him with a mischievous grin.

he rolled his eyes but didn’t deny it, his cheeks tinged pink. "don’t push it."

"too late." she leaned up to kiss his nose, her heart swelling at the way he scrunched it in response. "i love you too, you big softie."

seungmin groaned dramatically, but the small smile tugging at his lips betrayed him. "this is why i don’t do skinship. you get all weird and sappy."

"you don’t do skinship because you’re awkward," she shot back, grinning.

"not true," he argued, pulling her closer and holding her firmly against his chest. "i’m holding you right now, aren’t i?"

"true," she agreed, nuzzling into him. "maybe you’re not as awkward as i thought."

he let out a soft chuckle, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "don’t get used to it."

"too late," she whispered, her voice full of warmth.

and as seungmin held her close, the lingering worries from earlier finally faded away. because with her in his arms, laughing and teasing like always, he knew they were okay. better than okay. they were home.

mastertag ୨୧ @cosmicalily thank you luvie <3