#and life hasn't felt real for a while now. and so many things are in shambles

[loumauve]

sorry I've been unhinged lately and cursing your dashboards with all manner of posts. I'd love to promise it'll get better soon but that would probably be a lie

[penultimate-step]

Lately, I've been thinking about the effect of real-world time on perception of media. Or, wait, let me start from the beginning.

When I was 11, I read the book Ender's Game for some school assignment or another. I don't remember ever considering Ender a relatable character, but certainly my understanding of the events was shaped by being of an age to see the protagonist not so much as a young child but as someone of my peer group, someone who could have been slotted amongst my classmates without anybody batting an eye.

Over a decade later, I read the sequel, Speaker for the Dead; it takes place many years later, when Ender is in his thirties, and my feelings about the in-universe time skip were undeniably shaped by the real life time gap between my reading of the novels. Reading the first book back then and then the second book now created a feeling where it's almost like, I'm browsing the facebook page of someone I had known in middle school but lost contact with, checking up on how they're doing today. The real-time factor caused me to perceive it less like a timeskip, and more like a reunion - the feelings were closer to "oh wow, that's my boy! I haven't seen him in years! Wonder what he's up to?" Which in turn gave me a better position to appreciate the parts of the narrative about him struggling to find a place in his adulthood than I would have been had I perceived it more strictly as a quick skip from 11 to 20 to 36.

While musing about this, I considered a VN I played a few years back, which took place over three in-game days - except at the end of one in-game day, the game would lock you out from progressing for 24 hours real time. So that as the in-game investigator protagonist was ruminating on the information that had been discovered that day, the player would be forced to do the same. In this example, by forcing the player to experience the same timeframe as the in-game characters, the sense of it being an in-depth and extensive investigation increases, even though without the forced pauses the game would be short enough to blow through in a handful of hours real-time.

Which brings to mind how time effects things in long-running serial works. It's well known that an audience which watches an episode or reads a chapter week by week has a very different experience than one binging through whole seasons or volumes at a time, but I wonder if the real time relative to the in-universe time makes that effect stand out more? Fight scenes, for instance, have been known to take up several chapters in certain manga or webnovels. What does it do to the reader's perception, if from their point a view a fight takes a whole month, while for the characters they read about it's only been a couple hours? Readers might feel that the situation is more stressful, since the pressure of the fight has been ongoing for a long time for them, while in-universe it was a rough afternoon but no more than that. Contrastingly, when a series skips ahead or otherwise has long periods of time for characters that feel short for readers, it can feel like no time has passed and everything is still the same, unless the author really stresses the differences in world-state that occurred offscreen. Because the reader hasn't changed at all.

No conclusion here exactly, I just think it's interesting how often an audience's response to a work, the emotions felt, are more closely tied to their real-life timescale, something almost completely out of the author's control, as opposed to in-universe time, which can be intentionally shifted or played with for the sake of the narrative.

[cece693]

You Call That Love? (Damon Salvatore x Male Reader)

Because I don't see many Damon Salvatore x male reader posts, I decided to write one myself. You can't convince me that Damon hasn't had male lovers before.

Summary: Elena tries to get with Damon but soon realizes he has moved on—with m/n of all people.

Their lips moved in a frenzied dance, hands tearing at each other's clothes in a passionate embrace when the gasp of a familiar, bothersome human interrupted their intense makeout session. Looking up at Elena with an annoyed expression, m/n rolled his eyes before sitting upright, allowing Damon to hastily put his shirt back on.

"Why?" she whispered pathetically, her brown eyes tearing up while looking at Damon as if he had just killed her parents. "I thought we had something—"

Unable to contain his laughter, m/n released a hearty chuckle. "Why, Miss Elena?" he mocked "I distinctly remember you bragging about your relationship with Stefan not even a week ago. What happened? Trouble in paradise?" Feeling Damon's arms wrap around his middle, m/n cuddled against Damon's front, allowing the vampire to take what he needed.

M/n wasn't naive to the fact that Damon still harbored some feelings for Elena, although the nature of said feelings had changed. So, just for him, m/n would step back and allow things to run their course.

"You don't know anything," Elena hissed, her eyes narrowing at m/n with utter hatred. Ever since he stepped foot into Mystic Falls, her life changed for the worse: Bonnie and Caroline finally stood their ground and told Elena they didn't want to be involved in her problems.

Recently, Stefan and she broke up; Stefan, noticing the eerie similarities between Katherine and Elena as of late, decided to break the cycle and began dating Caroline.

But, worst of all, when Elena finally (or rather knew she had no other option) admitted she loved Damon, the vampire disregarded her confession, telling her he'd moved on—with m/n of all people.

"Elena," Damon's stern tone caused the girl to break eye contact and look expectantly at the vampire. A part of her still hoped Damon would realize the mistake he was making, but as the vampire continued talking, hope vanished.

"I don't love you. M/n made me realize that what we had was toxic and borderline obsessive. Being with Stefan, then me, Matt—that isn't love."

"Don't try to tell me how I feel," Elena exclaimed. "I'm sorry it took me such a long time to realize my feelings, but you can't tell me what I feel for you isn't valid."

Feeling bold, Elena stepped forward, about to touch Damon and reel him back into her web of manipulation, when m/n had enough and pinned the human to the wall, his hand on her throat. Uncaring if she could breathe, m/n felt this was sufficient punishment for Elena, thinking she could touch what was his. 

Elena gasped for breath as m/n's grip tightened, her eyes widening with fear. "You thought you could have it all, didn't you?" he sneered, his cold e/c eyes piercing into hers.

"Stefan, Damon, and whoever else caught your fleeting attention. You don't care about anyone other than yourself. Where was this love when Damon was begging you to choose him? Your exact words were nobody could love a monster like you. And now you want to rewrite history? He's with me now, and I suggest you come to terms with that."

With a final, disdainful glance, m/n released his grip on Elena's throat. "You're twisting everything!" she exclaimed after regaining composure, her voice strained. "You don't know the whole story. What Damon and I have is real."

As Elena struggled to defend herself, Damon's expression shifted with each word she uttered. At first, her claim to have loved him drew a flicker of skepticism in his eyes. However, as she delved into the reasons for denying his love, a mix of hurt and anger played across his features. "I loved him, but he was too caught up in his own darkness to see it."

Damon's jaw tightened, and his eyes flashed with a wounded expression. "People change, m/n. Damon could have changed for me." The pair of vampires now stared in disbelief. How had Elena managed to turn herself into a victim in this situation?

"Change? Is that what you call it?" Damon's retort cut through the air like a cold gust of wind, his voice edged with bitterness. His eyes, once clouded with hurt, now blazed with a fiery resolve. "You left, Elena. You chose someone else. You choose Stefan."

M/n, standing beside Damon, could sense the raw emotion emanating from the vampire, a poignant mixture of anger and hurt.

"M/n accepted me for who I am. He didn't demand that I change, mold myself into someone more palatable to fit your version of love. You can't rewrite history just because you don't like the ending."  

Frustration etched across Elena's face. "Fine, have it your way," she spat, casting one last resentful glance at Damon and m/n before storming out of the house, the door slamming shut behind her. Even as the sound of Elena's car drew farther away from the boarding house, Damon's eyes lingered on the closed door. 

M/n turned to Damon, his gaze softening as he assessed his lover beside him. "You okay?" he asked, his voice gentle yet filled with genuine concern.

"Yeah," Damon replied, "Thanks for handling that."

M/n nodded, his expression conveying understanding. "You know I've got your back, always." Damon's eyes softened, a subtle warmth replacing the tension that had gripped him moments before. He didn't need grand gestures or elaborate confessions; the simplicity of m/n's words told him everything he needed to know.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

[ajokeformur-ray]

My thoughts on Joker: Folie à Deux

Now that I'm done sobbing and it's been a few hours since I left the cinema with my roommate, I've put the first Joker on for comfort while I write this.

Spoilers below the cut for anyone who hasn't seen it.

We all know that I was one of those "I don't want a sequel" girlies and in a way, I still am. I maintain that Joker didn't need a sequel, it was a perfect standalone. But, surprisingly, I enjoyed this film as it was.

It was very dark, gritty, the things we didn't get to see because they were only implied were things which stuck with me long after leaving the cinema, it was ambitious with Lee but didn't quite go as far as I would have liked with her; she had so much more potential and I thought we were gonna get that when she smashed the shop window to get a small TV with which to see her Joker on with a very sweetly spoken "excuse me" and then walked away without a fuss. It was gorgeously arranged, the songs were perfectly selected and I adore that That's Life played during the start and end; it brought our beloved Arthur to a full circle. And, most importantly, it was faithful to our Arthur. That's what I and so many others were afraid of, that this sequel would butcher our boy, but it didn't. It was faithful to him to the bitter, tragic end.

Joker was gorgeous. He was... so realistic, so raw and real and in pain, he was everything I always wanted this universe's Joker to be. I've always said in my fics and posts that Arthur didn't want to be Joker, it was something which the general public put onto him and he never wanted it, he just wanted to be seen, heard, accepted and loved for who he was, and even when he exposed his pain on national TV, he wasn't given that. He was ignored, spoken for rather than listened to, and then in this new film that carried on happening until yet again he stood up for himself and took what he knew to be right. He's the best advocate for himself and it's a lesson I need to learn from him a bit more than I have done before. But I digress... Joker was so perfect. And his little comedy moments did have me giggling, even through my tears at various points in the film.

I enjoyed the difference between how Joker and Arthur were considered, though we all know that the lawyer's initial defense, as well meaning as it was, was not it. Arthur was never gonna walk out of there without consequences and we all knew it. The constant switches between his delusions as Joker and the way he was stood still in Arkham or the courtroom were so well done, and I liked how murder was used against himself while he was waging between doing what people were telling him to do, and what he wanted to do for himself.

I was begging for Arthur to do the right thing the whole way through the trial, even though I knew what it would mean for him, and in the end he chose himself just like he did in the first film, and it was the bravest thing he could have done. It was utterly devastating, but in the end I think the way he chose to go down was the right way. He could have either continued being Joker and gone down being known for someone he wasn't and someone he had never been, or he could stand up, admit to who he is and display emotional maturity and speak for himself.

He chose the latter and I'm, in a very bittersweet way, grateful. I sobbed through most of the film but in the end, Arthur was himself, and it was so brave and so heartbreaking. This film was, at the end of it all, as true to Arthur as Arthur ended up being to himself (and I think it was because Gary's testimony and tearful "why are you doing this to me?" that was the catalyst behind Arthur making this fateful decision), and it was... it was so hard to watch, very difficult to stomach, but also I am proud of myself for going. I really didn't want to, I didn't, but Arthur would have gone to see us if the situation was reversed, and not going to see this film would have felt like abandonment of our boy... I didn't want to do that. I'm glad I went, but I'll probably take a long time before I'm able to watch it again, if I ever can.

The last scene especially shattered me, but I think that from a narrative point of view, it makes sense. Arthur was a tragedy, through and through. Though, he's an unreliable narrator, so who knows if we saw what we all think we saw? It was the perfect end for Arthur, as horrific, cruel, and brutal as it was, but the inmate was wrong... it wasn't at all what he deserved.

Our Arthur deserved sunshine, cuddles for days, kisses in the rain, dancing, singing, he deserved comedy nights and a dancing partner, he deserved so much more than what he got.

And the irony is that the people complaining that this Joker wasn't the Joker they wanted are literally proving the core message of the film; Arthur isn't Joker. He was never Joker, and that's why he was abandoned by so many in the film; by Lee, by those dressed like Joker, by everyone who wanted him to be someone he wasn't... he was given that title by people who didn't know him, people who didn't want to know him, Gothamites who used him and his crimes to justify and further their own political agenda, and, in the real world, by those complaining that this Joker isn't the Joker they wanted.

Arthur is Arthur Fleck, he's always been Arthur Fleck. He was willing to die to make that point, so in the end he died for himself, and it was so brave and courageous and heartbreaking.

I walked out of the cinema sobbing the hardest I've cried for a long time, but so much more in love with Arthur Fleck than I was before. I just want to tell him how sorry I am, and how loved he is by all of us. That's what he deserves.

❤️💚💙🤍

[meshla-cyarika]

My Love, My Life

Pairing: Tech x Jedi!reader

Word count: 1,063

Tags/warnings: angst, grief/mourning, there's alot of signs of autism shown in Tech in this fic but less obvious ones.

Summary: After finding your name in the Imperial obituary, Tech doesn't know how to move on.

A/N: How many aura points do I lose for crying while I wrote this even though it's not that good? I was originally going to have a part two of the reader's perspective where it's reveal that oh my god you're actually alive, but I dont know whether to do that now purely because of how deeply Tech is shown to be grieving and I kinda don't want to take that away from him. Yk what I mean? But if people say they want a part 2 who am I to deny them? Also, yes, the title is based off of that one ABBA song cuz I was listening to it while I wrote this.

--------------------------------------------------

The Marauder was tingling with tension. The genocide of the Jedi, the betrayal of the Empire, the loss of Crosshair and the gain of Omega all happened over the course of twenty-four hours. Everyone had their own reasons to be on edge.

Tech's mind had been on autopilot for days. As soon as he saw what Master Billaba's men did to her and how quickly Crosshair became bloodthirsty for all Jedi, time seemed to stop. He had frantically typed on his datapad to try and find an explanation for such a brutal attack. When Tech saw that it was a full fledged genocide, he swore his heart stopped beating for a second. The only thing that kept him from having a panic attack was his advanced biology.

When they got to the Marauder and fled Kamino, Tech was instantly searching the Imperial database for the list of the dead. He never thought he'd have to check an obituary to find your name, but there you were. Jedi Knight. Executed on Lothal. The reference image they used for you was haunting. To see you stood there, just so alive, with the word executed next to you was enough to make bile stir in his stomach.

It didn't feel real. Tech looked at your information in the obituary again and again and again, but his mind just couldn't process the information. He felt like the only way he could believe you were dead is if he saw your body laying before him and he could never bring himself to do that.

Everyone noticed the difference in their brother. Even Omega, who hadn't even been with them that long, noticed his irregular behaviour. His brothers were puzzled by his reaction to their new living  situation. Out of all of them, Tech should be the least likely to get emotional over this. Then again, change has alway been a problem with Tech. It always takes longer for him to process things like this.

They began working for a trandoshan called Cid to do some seedy work. It was obvious why Hunter made them work for her, obvious to Tech anyway. It was because being sent out on missions that have various conditions is all they ever knew. The concept of settling down on a planet and ignoring the war raging on outside is foreign to them.

It's been ten months, three weeks and five days, since your death. Tech's behaviour hasn't changed and his siblings have assumed it's all because of Crosshair up until this point. Tech had been understanding with Crosshair on Kamino and held only mild hatred for his decision.

No. This is something else entirely.

Hunter's heart aches at seeing his brother's despair and having no idea what's making him feeling this way. Tech being Tech, will never say.

He finally snapped when one of Cid's workers, Phee, persistently kept making moves on him. Tech couldn't help the pure emotion radiating off of him in waves, as he shouted and yelled at the woman. It should be you laughing at his sarcasm, it should be you calling him pet names, it should be you with him. He just wants you and that's the one thing he can't possibly have and it hurts, it makes it feel like his heart has been ripped straight out of chest.

Tech stormed off to the Marauder which was a mistake, because everything in there reminds him of you. Your first kiss on his bunk, your late night conversations in the cockpit, your shared experiments at his desk.

He wants to scream and yell at how unfair everything is. Out of everyone in the galaxy, why you? Why did death have to take you? His perfect cyar'ika who could do no wrong and managed to cling to the little faith you had left through the most devastating battles.

Grief is something Tech has experienced only a handful of times. The feelings still feel new and uncertain and that unnerves him. Tech's emotions are usually filed away in organised compartments that only he understands. Now, everything is overflowing and overlapping. Everything is too much.

It's like a bad dream. He doesn't want to be here anymore. He wants the comfort of a familiar routine, back when his biggest concern was what days him and his cyar'ika would be on shore leave at the same time.

Tech sinks down into the far corner of the bunk room, ripping off his goggles and letting them clatter agaisnt the durasteel floor. He draws his knees up to his chest and wraps his arms around his shins, before leaning his forehead agaisnt his kneecaps.

The last time he found himself in this position was back when he was a cadet. As much as he tried to ignore it, the regs had gotten to him. 99 had found him curled up in the corner of an embryo lab. He had said nothing at first, just sank down next to him and let him know that he was there if he needed him. Tech found himself wondering for years why he couldn't have been like everyone else, why the Kaminoans made his mind work this way. Tech would give anything to be "normal". He never asked for any of this.

A set of footsteps stomp their way up the ramp and Tech doesn't bother looking up. He's prepared for the demanding yells, the overbearing questions and the looks of outrage on his brothers' faces. What he isn't prepared for is someone sliding down the wall next to him. Tech almost flinches at the feeling of someone placing a hand on his back and tenses all the muscles in his body instantly. Eventually, his body goes back to being lax and a shaky sigh leaves Tech's lips, as he leans into his brother's side.

Tech doesn't want to talk about you to his brothers. If he talks about it, then it's real. Your body is rotting on Lothal and he'll never see you again. He can't face the reality of it. It's too real. He can't do it.

The hand on his back rubs soothing circles into his spine. I'm here, if you need me.

Someday, he will tell the tale of his beautiful cyar'ika and you'll become an honoured part of their mismatched family, even though they had never met you. You will forever live on in his heart.

[mysicklove]

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆

DAY 22: A/B/O

With: Isagi Yoichi

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Omega/bottom Isagi, Top/Alpha/Gn reader, omegaverse stuff (slick, claiming, scenting, etc.), isagi is in heat, readers pp could be read as strap or dick, marking/biting, slight blood, possesive behavior, instincts and stuff, isagi lowkey being feral

A/N: i like this one. and dont ask me why i know so much about a/b/o dynamics.'

Isagi was completely fine with being an omega. Sure, in the beginning he thought it may affect his soccer career, but as he grew and matured, he realized that it wasn't a problem anymore. Scent blockers and suppressants were a gift from the gods, and key factor of how he went pro. Without them he didn't know where he would be.

But, it led to an addiction. Constantly hiding his scent, hoping people may mistake him for being a beta so he doesn't have to deal with the slander omegas get on the field. And without heats he doesn't have to miss practice. Hence, every morning he puts a scent blocker sticker on his neck and wrist, and the second he feels a little amiss, he pops a heat suppressant. And he lived fine.

Except then you came into his life. An alpha. 

Heats are supposed to be spent with you. His body was begging him to spend it with someone, but he shuts it down immediately. Its unhealthy, and he knows it. A doctor has reminded him for years now, but he brushed it aside. 

The two of you had fought about it for about a year now. It was damaging his body, but he was too deep in his soccer career to sacrifice those multiple weeks of the year. You couldn't force him to do it, but every time you saw him pop that pill, and instinctual dread flooded your veins.

He hasn't had a real heat in five years. More than twice longer than what is considered “unhealthy” for an omega. It means when he finally does fall into it, its bound to be painful, and long lasting. Not only that, but his instincts are supposed to be heightened more than usual, so he doesn't know what he will say or do once he goes into it again.

But you finally convinced him spend it with you. He has been hinting for months now that he wanted you to mark him, but when he finally bluntly asked you to claim him, you said you would only do it during his heat. He agreed with much hesitancy.

It's a dread to think about, and honestly he is a little scared. But he promised you he would do it. He (very reluctantly) called off two weeks from soccer practice during off season, when he felt his pre-heat begin to creep up on him. 

So, here he is. Going to have his first heat in five years. 

The two of you stayed at his place. It was probably better to be at a spot he is comfortable with after all. The days before it weren't too bad, you forced him to put away the scent blockers for a couple of days, so the house smelled strongly of him. He went out of his way to scent as many things as possible, growing anxious as the days went by. He also built a nest on the space next to his bed, covered in blankets, pillows, and too many items from your dirty hamper. He was antsy during this time, finding himself clinging to you, and following you around the house. It was cute honestly, watching him have a slight pout while he grips onto your hand.

His body temperature started to pick up by the third day of his preheat. He started wearing less clothing, and you hand fed frozen fruit to him, hoping to cool him off just a little. He tosses and turns in the night, whining out for you to hold him, comfort him, make the strange feeling stop. It was so confusing and he hated it.

And finally after four days, he experienced his first heat since he was a teenager. It was in the middle of the night, the two of you in his nest, and you were fast asleep when he awoke. Every inch of his body ached, and he was panting. Sweat dripped down his temple, and he could feel slick stain his boxers. It made him groan in frustration, but he couldn't do anything about it because he was so horny.

Everything in him screamed for him to get filled, and as quickly as possible. He doesn't even think about it, tearing off his shirt and boxers. His now naked body trembles and he pants into the back of his hand, before turning to your sleeping form. He quickly finds himself scampering over to you, shaking you awake.

You turn to him with a groan, eyes blinking in the darkness to try to adjust themselves. “Yoichi?” You question, voice hoarse from sleep.

He basically tackles you, collapsing his entire body onto yours, and burying his face into your neck, scenting it quickly and desperately. “It’s h-here–dont know what to do. H-Help. Hurts. It hurts. Make it stop!”

You snap awake in an instant, resting your hand on the back of his head. He straddles your leg, beginning to hump at it. You croon at him, the sound low and comforting, hoping to calm him down just slightly. “What do you need me to do, Yoichi?”

He shakes his head back and forth in your neck. “I don't know! J-Just touch me. Please, alpha!” 

You cup the back of his head, letting him rest in your neck, while you reach to grab his toy bag the two of you packed just a couple days earlier. You flick on the lamp on your nightstand and he glances at the bag in your hand, letting out a small growl and nipping at your skin.

You flinch, and he continues to growl, low, not threatening, but annoyed. “Don't want the toys. Touch me,” Isagi hisses, grinding his cock onto your leg.

“Feisty omega,” You murmur, setting the bag on the other side of the nest, and moving to reach behind him.

He gulps at the words, feeling bad already. His hormones are all out of wack, and he can't seem to think straight. He nuzzles into your neck and purrs, lifting his hips up to meet your fingers. 

You use a finger to prod at his entrance, eyes slightly widening at the feeling. “Wow love, you are so wet. You're dripping all over your legs and the pillows,” You murmur in astonishment, dragging your finger around the hole.

He whines in embarrassment, cheeks flushed from his heat, and now from humilation. “D-Dont know why. I woke up and it hasn't stopped,” he complains, voice low and gruff. You continue to pet his hair, trying to comfort him.

You hum in response, pressing your other finger into his hole. He shivers at the feeling, clinging onto you in the darkness. When it slips in easier than usual, you prod another one, finding it just as easy to slip in. “Fuck Yoichi, you’re just begging to be fucked aren’t you. Taking it so easy.”

His back is arched by now, pressing into the fingers that are now scissoring him. “More. ‘ts not enough. Please, please. I need more, alpha!” He cries, both sides of him now leaking. His face is flushed, and his whole body feels like its on fire.

You shush his mewls, letting out a soothing scent and he moans into your neck. “Alright, alright. I’m going to make you feel good, relax,” you whisper, trying to pull yourself a way for minute to prepare yourself. He doesn't let you go far, arms wrapping around your entire body, breathing into your skin. The scent seems to make him feel grounded, and it's what he desperately needs right now.

“Here, lay down for me,” You encourage, trying to pull him off just for a second so that you can line yourself up with him. He doesnt seem to listen, shaking his head and panting. Sweat beads at his temples, and he's already beginning to beg again, but you push him to the bed, pinning his hands up for a moment while you press the tip into him.

He groans at the feeling, already borderline oversensitive. “Hold me. Please. Hold me, ‘s hot. I can't–”

You kiss his neck, pressing further inside of him, and his eyes widen, gasping at the feeling. His nails dig into your back and you try not to hiss out, continuing forward till you bottom out in him. Slick continues to leak out and onto the nest, but you don't say anything, afraid of embarrassing him.

But you couldnt help but notice the way his back arches, and the wet feeling now on the both of your stomachs. His breaths are shaky and his hold on you is weak. It gives you a chance to pull away for a second, glancing at the cum spread between the two of you. 

He covers his face with his hand, blushing profusely. “I'm sorry. Don't know what happened. J-Just felt…really good,” He warbles, not daring to look at you, but feeling himself begin to grow hard again. 

You giggle at him, planting a soft kiss to his lips. “S’alright. So cute, Yoichi. Wanna take a break then?”

His eyes are back onto you in an instant, wide and panicking. “N-No! You can't stop, please keep going!” He begs, lifting his hips to grind his cock on your stomach in a plea.

You know it's the heat talking, so you don't dare to tease him, afraid of pissing him off. So you abide by your omegas command.

“Fuckkkk,” He breathes, eyes rolling back when you start to pick up the pace. You grip at the back of his head, pulling him into a kiss, and thrusting forward. His legs wrap around your waist, and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you impossibly closer. Your thrusts are hard, short, and make a lewd slapping noise from the skin to skin contact. 

Isagi pulls away from the kiss, eyes cloudy, and mouth slightly swollen from the attention. “Alpha. Alpha. Alpha. Alpha,” He chants, mewling at every thrust, while slick drips down his thigh.. 

You kiss his cheek, humming to him in question. “Right here. I'm here. Doing so well. Such a pretty omega,” You coo in response, and the effects are immediate. He purrs at your voice, nuzzling into your neck and scenting you with a small fucked out grin.

“Mark me.”

You pause your movements, eyes flashing to his blue ones. He whines at the interruption, grabbing at your hips to pull you in closer. “Right now? It's so early,” You reason, growing dizzy off his warm scent.

It turns sour in an instant. “Y-You dont want me?”

He was being unreasonable, but that was the heat talking. His brain wasn't in the right place, and the second you didn't agree, it hurt. Way more than it should have. Tears prick at his eyes, and he begins to push you away, feeling gross with himself.

You don't let him go far, releasing a calming scent, and crooning to him. “Not what I meant. Relax, omega. It's okay, you're okay. I'll mark you, will that make you feel better?”

He clings onto you immediately, scent light again. “Please please please. Wanna be yours. Your omega. Please bite me!” 

You groan, grabbing his hips and forcing him back down onto the length. He gasps, trembling, but now baring his neck to you. 

“You're going to be the death of me, Yoichi,” You sigh, not liking how much control he has over you. Between the scent and his lewd words, which would never come out of his mouth if he wasn't in heat, it was hard to stay present in the moment.

“Please please please,” he cries, grabbing your hair  and forcing you toward his very own neck. You glance at him one last time, looking at his glassy eyes, and flushed cheeks. He nods at you, a whine slipping past his lips. 

You take one last deep breath, inhaling your lovers intoxicating scent and bury your teeth into his neck. He yelps, gripping onto your hair as tears drip down his cheeks. But his back arches, and hes cumming again from the action. His head spins as he feels your tongue lick at the wound, crooning out apologies for the pain.

Your thrusts have slowed down slightly, but they are deeper, harder. After cumming two times Isagi feels himself grow tired, weaker, but every cell in his body is screaming at him to go again and again. Till he passes out, if he must. 

“You alright? My omega…All mine,” You whisper, brushing away his sweaty bangs. He feels light headed, absolutely amazed at the feeling of being claimed after all this time and your words, but frustrated from your bare neck. It's not fair.

A possessive nature takes over him, and he lets out a small growl. You raise your eyebrows at him, confused by the sudden aggression. He was always pretty temperamental, but you granted his wish, and were fucking him, what more could he need?

A pair of canines dig into your neck before you could even process his movements. It makes you wince, hissing out and shivering as you feel his tongue lick over the wound. “N-No warning?” You half complain, not minding the feeling of being marked by him.

He doesnt seem to be listening, heat clouding all coherent thoughts. “My alpha. Mhmmm. Mine, mine, mine.”

“Possessive little thing. S-Supposed to be my line,” You laugh at him lightly, and he pulls away for the first time tonight, maneuvering you until he is sitting on your lap, and beginning to raise himself up and down. Two hands fall on your stomach to help steady himself as he begins to grind on the length, head falling backward as he pants at the ceiling.

His movements are frantic, desperate even, as if he was afraid he would never get a chance to cum again. His own cum on his stomach is beginning to dry up, but he doesn't seem to mind. His cock flops back and forth at his movements, and sweat drips down his neck. His whole body seems to be a pinkish shade, covered in sweat. It makes you slightly worried, but knowing him, if you force him to stop so that you can check on him, he may try to kill you.

He cums again without much warning, his fingers curling up and eyes rolling backward. The stream is weaker, dripping pathetically down his cock. His whole body trembles and he collapses forward onto you, pawing at you to hold him again.

You grab water from the nightstand and basically force it down his throat, the excess dripping down his chin and onto your chest. He gulps it down without much complaint, staring at you with lidded eyes the entirety of it. “Lets take a break,” You mumble, caressing his cheek and wiping away the water.

He purrs into your touch, and realigns himself up again, a drunken smile on his face. “Not a chance, alpha,” Isagi says, sinking onto the length to try to chase his fourth orgasm that night. 

The two of you get little sleep, and you awoke to him grinding on your leg, and biting at your ear, begging you to make him feel good again, full again. But even in your exhausted state, you didn't mind too much, because how could you say no to your precious omega? 

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[adripakoffee]

Hold on and let me yap about my goat Swansea rq (not rq, this is almost 2k words lol)

CW: SUBSTANCE ABUSE, MOUTHWASHING SPOILERS

I'm gonna use "probably" and "most likely" a lot in this because so much of this game is from Jimmy's perspective and he dgaf about Swansea until close to the end.

Okay, so Swansea is first and foremost, a very tired, very ragged mechanic who's probably pushing 60. He doesn't want to be on that ship. He doesn't want anything. He wants, at least at first, to just be done with this job and get paid. He respects Curly but he's annoyed by and dismissive of everyone else on the ship, especially Daisuke.

So much of Swansea's character is reliant on and paralleled to his relationship with Daisuke. When he meets Daisuke, Daisuke is happy and optimistic. He looks forward to things and tries to impress Swansea when Swansea doesn't want help.

The main reason Swansea doesn't like Daisuke ties into his alcohol abuse. Daisuke is always, at almost every point we see him pre Anya locking herself in medical, happy and energetic. Swansea hates this about him because that's a state of being he hasn't achieved, in his own words, in 15 years. He can't imagine being that happy while sober and it pisses him off. He's half jealous because of that and half jealous because Daisuke is young and has a long life ahead of him. Swansea does not like the life he built for himself while sober, but that's for later. Especially after they get laid off, the only one who has anything ahead of them was Daisuke. Swansea would have trouble getting another job both because of his age and because a lot of things on Earth were being automated.

Of course, after the crash, that jealousy becomes something else. Because Daisuke is the only one who has anything ahead of them, he's the only one whose life matters. Swansea loves his family, but he doesn't really like them. He's most likely worked with Pony Express the longest, so he knows they most likely won't be saved. They have one chance left, one cryopod for one person. He's saving it for Daisuke because Daisuke is only one with a chance.

Now bringing up Anya. I think it was 2 months in when Anya told him about Jimmy. Here I'd like to correct some things I said in other posts. In my Anya rant I said "He has the one last working cryo pod set aside for her specifically and refuses to let anyone into the room where it is." He felt bad for her, no doubt, but he probably doesn't actually do that. He, more likely, tells her "Hey, there's actually a crypod left. I'm saving it for Daisuke. It's not like either of us have things waiting on the other side of this." Swansea isn't responsible for Anya in the way Curly was. He respects her well enough as coworkers but they're not at all close. He doesn't feel any real need to put her in priority, especially with the dire situation at hand. I don't think he doesn't care, it's just not something he sees in his jurisdiction. And I'm not saying there's nothing he could've done. Had literally anyone at any point in the game killed Jimmy, a lot of problems would be fixed. But, unlike Curly, Swansea doesn't have as many options.

When they open the cargo hold and he starts drinking again, he rediscovers happiness. I'd actually like to apologize for something quickly. I made a short comic in which Swansea comforts Anya after she tells him about Jimmy (which he doesn't actually do, smh bro) and in the caption I had said "I love you sm Swansea I wish you weren't an alcoholic 😔" (It's also my most popular fanart on here and I'm very thankful for that ^^)

I don't blame Swansea for his alcoholism. It's an addiction just as much as anything else and no one should have to go through that. I personally though have had bad experiences with alcoholics and I'm generally uncomfortable around them. I definitely worded that caption poorly and I apologize for that, but I had meant it in an "I wish you were sober" way. I know that the caption had rubbed people the wrong way, so I wanted to apologize.

So Swansea is drunk and happy for the first time in fifteen years. Despite his intoxicated state, he still has his one goal and that's to save the last cryopod for Daisuke. He knows that's what he wants and he sticks to it. It's just him and the ax against the world. Eventually, Jimmy takes the ax to get the extra painkillers and the ax kinda just disappears for a while. Like I have no idea where it went but Swansea has it again by the time he offs Daisuke.

Speaking of which, Swansea kills Daisuke. Framing-wise it's probably my favorite scene in the game, like the breathing and Swansea's speech. Chat, I love this scene. Anyways, Jimmy offers Swansea a drink as a "peace offering." Swansea is never sober at this point in the game but even he can appreciate a good cocktail, especially when he's been slogging mouthwash for months. Honestly, he doesn't trust Jimmy like AT ALL at this point, but Daisuke helped him with the cocktail.

Swansea is kinda putting his hopes in Daisuke. Like obviously, he's placing hope in Daisuke's survival, but I think he's also seeing this optimistic, bright-eyed kid who's struggling as himself at the start of his sobrity. Daisuke said that the reason he got this job was because he was directionless in life. He had nothing to look forward to and no goals. The difference between him and Swansea is Daisuke's parents got the job for him and Swansea had to do it himself. So in that way he started to appreciate how happy Daisuke was, which is more reason to hate that he's there.

Swansea passes out from the cocktail and when he wakes up Anya is dead and Daisuke is in critical condition. Anya's gone which means they're out of a medic so that makes Daisuke's situation a lot worse. But because Jimmy used the Isopropyl to knock out Swansea, they're out of disinfectant. They have to use mouthwash which is established early on to have too much sugar to be disinfectant. So they kinda made it worse because Swansea and Jimmy are idiots who didn't listen to Anya. After a few hours of Daisuke slowly bleeding out, Swansea mercy kills him. it. looks. so. cool. During this speech, Swansea says something along the lines of "Stick a kid with a bunch of sad-sack adults and see what he learns. Bootstraps and all that." He really hates that Daisuke is here, it's just that the reason has changed. Before the crash, Curly and Daisuke were the only two who weren't like clinically depressed. After the crash, only Daisuke can find it in himself to stay optimistic, but even his faith is dwindling (Jimmy is optimistic too, but that's because he's crazy).

Right after that, he chases Jimmy around with the ax until Jimmy ties him up and shoots him. This is when Swansea lore drops about himself. He explains that he literally has not been happy or enjoyed his life in 15 years. He's done everything he's supposed to when it comes to leading a good, healthy life, but it's not at all fulfilling. He hates his job, he doesn't look forward to seeing his family, he just killed the last speck of joy on this metal space coffin, and he has nothing to live for. He's already fallen back into addiction so even if he got back to Earth, he'd ruin his life all over again. He'd be happy, but his life would be ruined. And then Jimmy shoots him.

Now here's a little health fact! Swansea was dying the whole game. People suffering from alcohol abuse often end up drinking Listerine when other alcoholic drinks aren't available. Now I'm just speculating and projecting, but Swansea is definitely a beer guy, that's his go-to. His tolerance suggests he was a craft kinda guy (which has an ABV between 5 and 10% (idk this is from memory)) or someone who drank a lot really quickly, but the mouthwash was 14% ethanol. That, in and of itself isn't the main problem, though it is noteworthy that he was already drinking more than usual. The main problem is that drinking mouthwash will absolutely destroy your stomach and intestinal linings. Mouthwash isn't just alcohol and flavoring, there's other chemicals in it too. On a good day, you'll get a nasty stomach ache, but you'll live. One to many though, and you are dead or in a coma. Like no joke that will kill you, especially if you drink a lot of it in such a short amount of time. That's why they keep saying "that stuff will kill you before anything else will," because it's actively killing them. Swansea probably knew this but he's prone to self-destruction so he probably didn't care. Anyway, hope you enjoyed that little health fact, I love reading medical journals ask me anything.

While writing this, I paused and started scrolling on tiktok and I saw a video where someone was complaining about the sudden villainization of Swansea in the fandom. I've literally seen nothing like this, but in the video they said one of the critiques people had of Swansea was that he was just as bad as Curly for not doing anything about Jimmy. That's insane, that is a batshit crazy take and I rebuke it. For one, Swansea was never Jim's friend. He never set people up to be victimized by Jimmy, he never enabled Jimmy's behavior or tried to comfort him when he was the problem. This was just a crazy thing to say, please learn to comprehend thing beyond the main text.

Um.. uh... conclusion paragraph, I love Swansea and I love to pretend he was more proactive against Jimmy for Anya's sake, but he wasn't so it's whatever he's not real anyway. I feel like this ended up being really long, like longer than the other two but idk.

Here's the link to the Anya rant and the Curly rants I also did, that I should probably edit upon further reflection

[loveundrwrld]

(ex) bully x fem reader oneshot

i tried to make sure new readers could understand the situation, but you can read his intro here for context if you'd like.

(cws: stalking, yandere shenanigans, reader has been bullied by the yan in the past and struggles with some trauma from it)

you’ve been stalked for a while by someone from your past. and to your horror, he seems to be finally making the move to approach you…

you aren’t doing so well. every day you feel your skin crawling, feeling someone’s gaze on you.

you’ve always had issues with feelings of anxiety ever since high school. for a long time, you’ve been skittish and untrusting of people, especially men. you know that you can take something small and your mind quickly spirals, turning a small problem into something huge in your mind.

and initially you were concerned that this was what was happening now. that your brain was connecting small things from your life together into something a sinister pattern.

unfortunately, this time… you think you are right to be afraid.

lately, every once in a while when you look behind your back you can see someone following behind you in the distance. someone with their face hidden in a scarf or wearing a dark hoodie. at first you think its just a coincidence... but, the person is always looking in your direction. and in some way or another, they’re always disguised.

later on, you check your mailbox, and there’s always a letter there waiting for you.

you knew it was from your stalker. you didn't really have any friends, and nobody in your family had that kind of handwriting you saw on the envelope.

you didn’t read the letters at first, afraid of what could be in them. in your mind, it would only solidify your fears of what was happening. you could deny that you were being stalked, chalk the person following you as just a coincidence- but seeing it written out in front of you would make it all feel real.

eventually, though, you decide that you need to read them. when you did, you realize with a sinking feeling that your stalker was the very person you wanted to avoid the most.

it's tanner- the person who made your life at school a living hell for you. all of the details and context that he’s sprinking in make that very clear that it’s really him.

it's hard to read, and not just because you feel disturbed by them. they're almost incoherent, his handwriting nearly chicken scratch as he is clearly writing them quickly and desperately. the letters themselves also seem to be just stream-of-consciousness too. from what you can make out of it, it’s absolute insanity- ramblings about how he could hurt himself if it pleases you, desperate pleadings for you to please, talk to him.

you think he's likely trying to mock you or scare you with his words of praise and obsession. you doubt that he's genuine in his intentions- though you don't doubt at all that he's obsessed with you. he’s taunting you by letting you know that he knows, you’re sure of it. his letters are simply too well timed- and have too many… ‘coincidental’ questions that relate to what happens in your life. you feel nauseous with fear thinking of him coming back into your life and tormenting you once again.

you try to go to the police with what you've seen, but nothing happens. no matter what you say, the police seem to not be willing to hear you out. to them, you sound paranoid… even though you tried to show them the letters, they still didn’t think it was worth their time. "well, he hasn't hurt you yet, right?" they would say. it would take you being kidnapped or dead for them to care, you realize.

you tried your best to ignore the pit of fear and uneasiness growing in your stomach and simply went to work.

your shift at work felt long. despite trying to calm yourself down and think of other things, you still kept thinking about tanner. your mind reminded you that you probably would not even be able to recognize him from all the years it’s been since you’ve last seen him- memories tend to distort and fade after time.

what if he wasn’t only trying to stalk you from afar, but he was actively trying to get close to you? it could be possible, your mind reasoned. he could’ve been the grocery store cashier, the neighbor next door who said hello to you, anybody. he could be any number of the customers you see walking into the store you work at.

all throughout the day at your workplace whenever a customer surprised you by walking too close behind you, or tapped you suddenly on the shoulder, you were certain that it was going to be him.

but, in the end, nothing happened. and just as you did every day, you needed to head back home.

it's pouring outside, and you're walking back out of the subway station. you look behind you, and someone in a black raincoat is walking quickly behind you. he turns his head a bit to the side and you see a flash of blonde hair sticking out of his hood.

you start walking faster- it has to be him.

just like you remembered- blonde hair, tan skin, tall, and lanky.

he’s closer to you than he’s ever gotten, and you don’t like that he feels confident enough now to change up his routine.

you walk quicker, turning left. but he's still right behind you, walking close behind.

you see someone close by your apartment stairs, a tall man with a shaved head wearing a long coat over a suit- you rush near him, hoping that the prescence of another man would deter your stalker.

it does not work, it seems- he keeps looking at you with some sort of strange desperation in his eyes.

you grab the stranger in the suits arm. you look over at his shirt- seeing a badge for the nearby bank on the front of his shirt. a security guard who just got off work, you think- he’s perfect.

the man in the raincoat gets even closer to you now, his brows furrowing. he opens his mouth as soon as he sees your hand on the other man’s arm.

"you're the person who lives in room 509, right? i need to-"

"hi, honey- did you wait long?" you ask, looking up at the man in the suit with a nervous smile.

he freezes, looking at you with wide eyes. in a few seconds though, he calms down and returns your smile.

"no, i didn't," he says, looking down at you with a sweet look.

he turns and looks at the man in the raincoat with furrowed brows, his voice immediately dropping. "is this guy bothering you?"

you freeze, not expecting him to address him directly. but you simply tug on his arm, trying to direct his attention away from him.

"don't worry about him, honey, just come inside."

he gives you a warm smile and opens the door for you, closing it quickly. he laughs softly at an alarmed sound coming from outside the door. you drop your shoulders, relaxing now.

once you’ve calmed down you feel a bit bad that you don’t recognize him- you haven’t been the best at being friendly to your neighbors.

you give the man in the suit an appreciative smile, wanting to show that you’re grateful for him playing along with your story.

“thank you for helping me! i don’t know what i would’ve done if you weren’t there.”

he looks down at you and gives you a confused look, but he smiles brightly.

“you're a sweet girl. no need to thank me for anything.”

he moves towards the elevator and you follow him. he presses the up button for you, and looks back at you with a bit of a blush on his face.

you look down where he was looking, and you blush as well. you didn't realize that the rain had soaked through your shirt, causing it to cling to your chest. you adjust your jacket, buttoning it up.

you two wait for the elevator, and he shifts a bit closer to you.

“what happened, by the way?” he says softly, looking at you curiously. “you seemed shaken up. did he ever do something to you?”

you nod, hesitantly.

“something like that,” you say, a bit bitterly.

he looks down at you with a concerned frown, and you two walk into the elevator together. you press the “5” button on the keypad.

"you should be careful. he lives in the floor above you. room 609," he says to you, his voice dropping a bit, becoming low.

he puts his hand on your shoulder, and you flinch a bit instinctively.

“do you need me to do anything to him? maybe... pay him a visit?”

you look at him with wide eyes, becoming uneasy. you slowly shake your head.

"no... you don't have to do anything."

“no, y/n, i do. if anything happens to you, it’s my fault.”

you freeze, taking a step back instinctively. there isn't much room for you to move- your back hits the back of the elevator.

you’ve never told him your name.

“… your fault?” you say, warily.

“i should’ve been more careful. i don’t know what he did… but i should have been there. he must’ve gone after you after he got my letter to you by mistake. it’s my bad handwriting that got you into this mess.”

you remember now that the address of the letters… the messy “5” he wrote for your room number looked awfully like a “6.”

the elevator door opens, and suddenly the man- tanner, you realizes, turns to you. his guilty frown turns into a small smile.

“well, anyways, no need to worry about him. it’s a good thing that i was there that time, right, honey?”

[defectivehero]

hiii! could you continue the hero x parent supervillain fic? i really wanna know what happens!

sincerely me

yes, i absolutely can...! sincerely me ;3

part one

warnings: family issues, abandonment, mentions of foster care; typical blood/injury

When the supervillain asserted that they'd be a better parent from now on, the hero was suspicious. Their sudden renewed presence in the hero's life felt like a trap and, months later, it still does. The hero has seen the supervillain out and about, and, while their parent hasn't inhibited their work, they've certainly made things... more interesting.

On the plus side, the hero is somewhat untouchable to a majority of the city's villains. Anyone smart enough to recognize the supervillain's power gives them a wide berth.

On the other hand, the hero feels a bit patronized. Many of their opponents' attacks are both nonfatal and, more frighteningly, nearly harmless. Suddenly, enemies that would never have hesitated to kick them to the curb are practically allowing them to win. It's frustrating and confusing as hell. The hero doesn't know what to do with this sudden shift in behavior. Honestly, it gives them a bit of guilt—they've become the villain in the situation, fighting with unrestrained power while their enemy scrambles to obey some sort of unspoken ethical system.

They're not foolish enough to think this sudden change in their enemies' behavior is a coincidence. No, this is the supervillain's doing. And they're not sure how to feel about it. The hero is capable enough to fight on their own, so they don't exactly like the thought of their parent attempting to fight their battles for them.

It's ironic, the hero thinks, when their parent's plan backfires. After all, not everyone is so keen to obey them. It doesn't matter if the supervillain is the most powerful and dangerous person in the city: there are enemies foolish and cutthroat enough to fight them anyway.

It's especially ironic when the hero responds to the sighting of an incapacitated person, only to find their supervillain parent collapsed in an alleyway. They immediately freeze at the mouth of the alley, contemplating whether they should stop to help or keep walking. That is never a choice heroes can make: they're always duty-bound to save people, regardless of who they are (or what they've done).

The hero sighs and breaks the distance between the two of them, crouching down in front of their parent. A foreign feeling of protectiveness briefly surges through their chest, before it is quelled by their doubt and suspicion. This could be a trap, designed to ensnare them by preying on their good nature.

But it's not a trap, the hero is soon forced to realize The blood coating the pavement beneath them; the supervillain's crumpled form; the pitch-black night... All of it is painfully real. And this time, it's the hero who has to swoop in to the rescue.

They frown down at their parent, studying the lines of their face and finding an unfortunate resemblance to themself. The hero can see how others make the connection between the two of them so easily: they have the same eyes, same sharp jaws and shaggy hair. Something burns in the back of their throat. "I'm not doing this for you," the hero feels the need to clarify. They bend down and place a hand under the supervillain's head.

They don't expect the supervillain to open their eyes, much less to respond. "I would expect nothing less," the supervillain chokes out through gritted teeth. The hero blinks at them in disbelief, something scarily similar to concern tugging at their chest at the supervillain's dazed state. There's a foreign feeling reverberating through their rib cage.

"I could just leave you here," the hero whispers, their voice breaking. Their eyes are stinging with unshed tears. "No one would know." Their grip momentarily tightens. Their hands are shaking. The hero bends their head down to hide the torn expression they're sure they're wearing on their face.

"You would know," the supervillain murmurs, blinking slowly. Somehow, the hero knows the supervillain isn't speaking out of their own self-interest. The statement is more of an acknowledgment of their relationship. The hero's parent turns their head to the side and lets out a garbled sound, coughing crimson splatters into their hand and onto the grimy pavement.

The hero takes a slow, deep breath. They bite the inside of their cheek hard enough to draw blood. The coppery taste in their mouth anchors them to the present moment. They've stalled for too long; their parent's state is precarious and they need to be treated.

The hero scoops the supervillain up into their arms. It takes a little effort at first, but they manage to find a suitable position for walking. Their parent immediately stiffens and tries to escape their grip with an uncharacteristic panic.

"No, no," they choke out. "No hospital."

"No hospital," the hero acquiesces. They hadn't planned on going to the hospital—it's out of the question for villains like their parent. Even the hero themself has to avoid the hospital sometimes, albeit for different reasons.

The supervillain relaxes slightly. They look rather out of it, and they're not putting up a fight anymore. The hero remains silent as they continue walking, ducking through dark alleyways to avoid being seen.

"This is not... where I saw us spending time together," the supervillain chokes out, blood trickling from their lip. "A bowling alley, an arcade..." They trail off, nostalgia in their voice.

The hero's brows furrow. They haven't been to a bowling alley since their thirteenth birthday—one that their parent was certainly absent for. They've never liked arcades, either: they're too loud and bright. Their jaw clenches. The supervillain has never truly known them, regardless of what they may claim. Blood is all that connects them.

"I think this is supposed to go the other way around," the supervillain remarks helpfully, evidently referring to the hero carrying them. The hero is starting to get annoyed with their commentary.

"Stop saying things like that," they admonish them, continuing along their way. "It's creepy." They look around the corner warily, before proceeding. Truthfully, they're not quite sure where they're going—but they'll have to figure it out soon.

"I don't know how to be a parent."

The hero stops in their tracks, the unexpected confession provoking several unwanted feelings within them. Just how long have they waited to hear the supervillain say that? How long have they waited for an apology that never came? How long has the hero spent, waiting for their own hero to swoop in and save them from their foster home?

They're not sure how long they stand there, staring off into the distance at nothing in particular.

"Where are we going?" The supervillain whispers uncertainly. The remark promptly snaps the hero out of their thoughts, forcing them to focus on the matter at hand. The hero takes a slow breath.

"What's your address?" They demand firmly.

The supervillain has the audacity to look surprised at their command. They must be deluded, if they think the hero is willing to give them their personal address. The supervillain mutters their address and the hero very nearly sighs in relief when they realize how close it is. They had just been following their gut instinct—and, somehow, it led them in the right direction.

Ten minutes later, the hero is standing in front of a locked door. Their arms are burning from the exertion of carrying an adult in their arms. Their parent notices and quickly tries to reach out to the screen at the side of the door, which evidently reads their fingerprint. Their hand doesn't quite make it, leaving the hero to awkwardly adjust them in their arms and use their free hand to press their parent's finger to the reader. The door finally swings open and the hero quickly helps the supervillain down to the couch.

"You have a nice home," the hero says helplessly, struggling to get rid of the tension in the atmosphere that sends goosebumps rising along their skin. They cross their arms over their chest, feeling extraordinarily out of place.

"It could've been ours," the supervillain murmurs. The hero tears their eyes away from them, sickened at their parent's cruelty. The hero wasn't the one to leave. The hero wasn't the one to disappear.

"You weren't there," the hero reminds them bluntly. The supervillain blinks and almost jolts out of their reverie. "And you won't be." They say. The hero isn't sure what the expression on their face is, but it must be suitably distressed, because the supervillain is reaching out to place a weak hand on their forearm.

"I will be." Their parent assures them.

The hero shakes their head silently, a tear crawling from their eye and carving a path down their cheek. Their parent's temple is sweat-soaked and they're growing to look a bit sickly. The hero stares down at them for several minutes, before getting to their feet and finally grabbing their phone from their pocket to call a healer. This particular healer doesn't care who they're healing, as long as they can pay. And judging from the supervillain's lavish home, they can more than afford it.

The healer responds within a few moments and they promise to get there within fifteen minutes. The call ends and the hero's job is done. They've done more than enough at this point. It is their time to leave. They don't belong between these walls; they don't belong in the intimate, personal life their parent has created for themself.

But... the hero can't get themself to move. They're anchored to their parent's side, helplessness clenching their fists and tightening their shoulders. Somehow, they stand there long enough to give the healer ample time to arrive. The door swings open for the healer—indicating they've visited this residence before—and the hero feels their body moving before they can think things through. They're stalking through the unfamiliar house silently, heading into a bedroom with an en suite bathroom and closing the door with a silent click.

The hero can just barely hear the healer beginning their work, talking quietly to themself as they work. The healer thinks themself to be completely alone in the supervillain's residence.

...Meanwhile, the hero surveys the room they now find themself in, thoroughly confused and angry at their own actions. Why didn't they leave when they had the chance? Why did they stay? The supervillain abandoned them for more than a decade, yet the hero can't leave them for a single moment? How many times was the hero left to slowly decay over cracked pavement?

They move to the bathroom connected to the bedroom, finding themself standing in front of a grandiose mirror. Their parent stares back at them, shaking their head as if admonishing them for their remorse and guilt..

The hero wrenches their gaze away and buries their head in their hands, sinking to the floor and pressing their hands to the plush carpet. Their breaths are far too quick and short, leaving their chest burning and saliva slipping from their lips as they try in vain to keep their composure.

Their supervillain is being stitched back together in the next room, leaving the hero to fall apart in this one.

©2024, @defectivehero | @defectivevillain, All Rights Reserved. Reblogs are greatly appreciated—just don't steal or share outside of Tumblr, please.

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me reading this ask, pretending like I know what happens next: ah... yes... the story I definitely planned for... 😅

ohihohohoh I love how this turned out, though. mwhahahhaha

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thanks for reading! <3

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[dadvans]

Eddie + Tommy friendship growth in s8 has the potential to be so good, look, LOOK, listen to me: tommy had to learn how to live alone, while eddie has always been lonely with other people.

Tommy, only child and potential army brat who moved around frequently and was never enough for his dad and grew up lonely lonely lonely, so lonely he made friends with his loneliness, got deep into his hobbies and made friends with his hands and maybe had to learn how to be real friends with someone else through sweat and blood when he entered basic, so he's good at ride-or-die friendships where you'd fight the whole world for someone and he does have a guy for everything, but he was raised in loneliness and is comfortable alone, he hasn't had too many serious adult relationships because he repressed that side of himself for so long that when he did finally allow himself to be with other men maybe it felt like it was too late, so he still needs to make space for himself and the things he enjoys because thats where he's comfortable, and

Eddie, from a big family with a military career and an ex-wife and a kid from when he was still a teenager, who has never, ever had to be alone, but still feels lonely because everyone in his life looks through him to the version of himself they wish he was instead of the solid self he really is, and he's a mess of several identities he's tried to be for other people without knowing who he is outside of them, but he's never really been alone with himself, doesn't know how to be, and he's going crazy with it, drowning in it, feels like a drop in the ocean when he's sitting on the couch at might where he used to be able to hear chris playing games or on a call with his friends, or they'd be watching a movie together or he'd be helping chris with his homework and now all he can hear are the distant sirens and traffic of his neighborhood, the leaky faucet in the kitchen sink dripping and the hum of his old refrigerator

give me platonic male friendship where eddie learns how to be himself because tommy helps him learn to stand the quiet of himself and the joy of doing and being for the sake of self enjoyment, and eddie continuing to be another part of the 118 family that tommy wanted but never got to have. give it to me!!!!!!!!

[maehemthemisfit]

𝐓𝐎𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖, 𝐈'𝐋𝐋 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔

pairing: manjiro sano x gn!reader

synopsis/prompt: "despite your aching heart, you continue to see him. an ocean of words left unsaid, how long before you drown? tomorrow, you promise, you'll tell him tomorrow" + ❄️ cold, 🌃 night, and 🧣 them giving you an article of clothing

warnings: pinning, fluff, sprinkled angst, comfort, reader being cold, proofread partially, op running on 3 hours of sleep, it's 1am, help, should i make a part 2?

wc: 1.8k | taglist: @youatemylollipop

Japan had always looked beautiful in winter, even though it was a time that withered life. Plants darkened and shriveled, animals curled away in their dens, and sickness became a common factor. Despite the season being a high time for death and diminish, many good things flourished from it as well.

For starters, the low temperatures seemed to bring people closer together; hands locking in a small exchange of heat, shops switching their menus to warmer delicacies and enticing couples, and people shared their umbrellas to shield them from the elusive flakes of snow that descended upon them. 

Your boots crunched beneath the powdered flakes that blanketed the ground, obscenities being expelled from you in protests of the cold.  Internally, you mocked yourself for making the awful decision of not wearing something more heavy on your shoulders, but by now you couldn't turn back.

Being more than halfway to the shrine, you continued on your trek and swallowed down your discomforts, though it wouldn't take a scientist to discern you were pretty much fighting for your life at this point.

The cold was merciless as it caressed your face, its unyielding breeze spawning goosebumps over your skin and made your lungs blister from each breath you heaved. It hurts, you bit back a whimper, second guessing all your life choices that led up until now.

Some gloves would of been nice as well.

You felt like hell frozen over as every exposed part of you ached, especially your ears, and at one point it felt as though you were breathing from your head. Your mind became a fuzzy blizzard of uncertainty and regrets yet your body moved on, not ready to give out yet.

"Almost there", you'd whisper, urging yourself through the night.

It was a miracle when his voice finally graced your ears, granted everything ached but still his presence managed to warm your heart, albeit figuratively.

"Hah, [Name]-chan? You're here?" The middle school gang leader questioned, looking over his shoulder. His smile widened as soon as the two of you locked eyes, and before you knew it, his hurried footsteps were drawing near. "Weren't you planning on staying home?"

Your brain lagged for a second as his hand lightly touched your shoulder, and your eyes took this moment to admire the way his skin soaked in the city lights, in a way that perfectly framed his dimples. He looked so warm and cozy, his neck tucked beneath a scarf while the rest of him was layered in winter clothing, unlike you who garnered nothing but a sweater and a thin jacket.

His cheeks were slightly tinted red from the cold and a few droplets of snow were sprinkled over his blonde locks. You had to resist the urge to reach out and comb the speckles of frost from his hair and also restrain yourself from cupping his cheek, even if it was only to keep him warm, though you're sure you had little warmth to offer.

"I was but..." You mumbled, thinking back on the real reason you were here while Mikey quirked a brow.

'I wanted to see you'

Truly, you couldn't help yourself, not when he smiled so sweetly and sung your name like it's been on replay for hours in his head. It hasn't, you'd have to remind yourself, but there were some days that left you questioning reality. Days where he felt so close, yet every time he was near his name never rolled off your tongue as fear ebbed your voice away at the prospect of being more than what you were to him and how unlikely it was that he saw you as such.

That never stopped you from hoping though.

Tomorrow, you'll talk about it tomorrow.

To your dismay, the temperature took a dive and your words died in your throat as a pout twisted your face. Why now of all times? You were already freezing your ass off, what next? An internal organ? You held back a groan.

Your eyes slightly watered from the cold, threatening to become a stream of tears. With the hiss of the wind you quickly turned away, huffing as you tried your best not to sniffle or sneeze in front of him. Discretely, you tried to wipe your eyes with the sleeve of your poorly insulated jacket.

Mikey could be dense sometimes, damn near oblivious, but when it came to you it was a completely different story. From the moment you spoke he could instantly tell something was off. Judging from your lack of winter attire and trembling self, it wasn't rocket science to figure out what was wrong, yet there seemed to be something eating away at you, something he only caught a glimpse of but never dared to comment on.

He saw it in your fleeting gaze, the frown you'd wear whenever he bid goodbye, and the way you brushed others off whenever they mentioned his name. He'd have to ask Emma about it when he gets the chance.

You tried to offer him the bag, an easy distraction from your struggling self, but of course your plans were foiled as Mikey grabbed your wrist instead, pivoting your towards him as a new set of fresh tears dripped from your lash line. 'No, wait!' You panicked, trying to escape his grasp but he only pulled you closer.

"M-Mikey," You stammered, lightly tugging at your wrist. The bag of taiyaki slipped from your hand, long forgotten over the snow.

It hurts seeing you like this. Was this how you felt all the other times you scolded him about taking care and prioritizing his health? His stomach tied itself in knots and his chest ached for reasons he had yet to understand. You were sure to catch a cold if you already didn't have one, but that just means he'd have to take care of you instead, and who was he to refuse?

Your breath caught in your chest as Mikey's hands cupped yours, his thumbs caressing warm mesmerizing circles into your aching knuckles. It felt... good, almost mind numbing you had to admit. It was ironic to think, one of the most strong and feared kid was here lovingly tracing your bruises. Your heart just might stop.

Something festered beneath his pout, flickering like a golden flame behind his charcoal eyes. Concern? Sadness was it? 

"You're cold," He stated, almost matter-of-factly, and you shuddered from how... distant his voice sounded, like he was far in the depths of his mind. 

You sniffled, looking away and taking interest in a nearby streetlight, which did little to help your eyes. Your lip curled in guilt and you almost wanted to laugh from how pathetic you probably looked.

His expression visibly softened, a faint smile soon painting his features as he wiped your tears, the pads of his fingers running gently across your skin. You blinked as the wind blew harshly, blinding you for a few moments. When you finally came to, you found something heavy being tugged over your head.

"What, h-hey!" You struggled against whatever was over you, only to be stopped by Mikey.

"Shh, be still!" He warned, attempting to curb your movements but you didn't relent, scurrying away from whatever force was over you.

"I can't see!"

"I'm almost, ah- stop moving before you-"

You muffled a few more protests before your thrashing around gave you a date with gravity along with a ticket that sent you both tumbling towards the ground. Mikey's arms instinctively snaked around your waist, his chest successfully breaking your fall when he landed in the snow.

He sighed and you groaned, the hoodie- his hoodie- you found yourself in finally slipping past your head.

"The hell was that!?" You let out an exasperated huff.

"Oh, so I'm to blame?" Mikey deadpanned, puffing out his cheeks. If he could cross his arms he would.

"You're the reason we're on the ground."

"You're the one on top of me."

Oh.

You tried to move.

Oh no...

It appears your hands unfortunately didn't make it into the sleeves, leaving you tangled in the thick fabric of your best friend's hoodie.

At the sight of this new revelation, Mikey couldn't help but crack a smile. "Ah! [Name]-chan~ don't tell me you're-"

"Shut up," Your face burned and you buried yourself in his scarf, embarrassment pooling in your stomach. "Shut up, shut up, shut up!"

You were engulfed in his laughter, his chest rising up and down with erratic breaths. You couldn't escape it, not that you wanted to leave. Mikey was thankful you couldn't see him, his face sprouting a deeper red that he would blame on the cold given the opportunity. He held you closer, supporting you so you wouldn't fall off since you couldn't hold yourself up. A part of him didn't want you to slip away so soon.

It was then you became hyper aware of your surroundings. His arms were tightly wrapped around you and your face was nestled in the crook of his neck. He was warm and soft and you couldn't help but relax and melt into him, cocooned in his hoodie that smelt of rose vanilla and pine. You breathed him in and it made you sick with nostalgic dreams of him and you, together and close like this. Those days where you were younger, sleeping over and waking up to tangled limbs and drool that wasn't yours on your neck.

You missed it.

You missed him.

But no matter how far you strayed from Mikey, he always brought you back into his arms, safe and secure. Just like this.

His hum brought you to the surface as one of his hands traced the small of your back.

"Hey," He called, urging you to look up.

"Hi," You greeted back, more weakly than you intended.

"Somethin's on your mind," Mikey spoke without question, sincerity in his eyes. A beat, then another passed by as you watched him. Silence. "You can... you can tell me anything, y'know? Whenever you're ready that is. Just," His hand went up to hold your cheek before moving to your head and hugging you back into his chest. "Don't let it tear you apart, away from me, okay?"

Seconds slipped passed as you registered what he said. Words bubbled in your chest, a confession on the tip of your tongue, ready to be poured out into the open snow. Your noses were nearly touching, your breath condensing into a small streams of mist and mixing with each others, dancing away into the night air and fading like a distant dream. 

You remembered some phrase about actions speaking louder than words, and you had the golden opportunity. His eyes, his attention, his lips inches from yours.

You leaned in, swallowing everything down.

And then, you hesitated.

That split second of vulnerability was easily snatched away by doubt, whispering fears into your head and sealing your lips from doing and saying anything further. All that courage down the drain.

Instead, you hummed, falling back into his chest to calm your racing heart. You had to tell him eventually. Your heart just wasn't ready. For now, you'll lay in his warm embrace and pray he couldn't tell, holding onto him for as long as you could without ripping at the seams. He was right though, this feeling was tearing you apart.

Tomorrow, you'll tell him tomorrow.

[cranberrymoons]

walk with me. eddie doing gay stuff in the army but compartmentalizing it as "things that happened while deployed" so he hasn't let himself process it as something in his real life that he did with his real body ("marisol is my girlfriend. kim is... a friend"). and okay, maybe it was him and he did do it, but he refuses to think about how it felt, because it wasn't real, and it didn't happen, not really, not in a way that actually matters, or not in a place that means that it has to matter.

adamant about this to the point of swearing up and down even inside his own head that he's never even thought about guys before, meanwhile carrying this through until a few years later and he knows he's in love with buck. he feels it in every firing synapse and beat of his heart and in the way he knows the vibration of buck’s presence without even needing to turn to see that it’s him, but he's squashing it squashing it squashing it until he can say with his whole chest "you're my best friend and i'm happy that you're dating X other person" and he doesn't even feel like he's lying or hiding his true feelings because they're so far down there and he's been doing this for so many years now that he actually believes it's true.

and then there's the Kim of it all. he gets this cathartic moment, and it's a moment of genuine unreality because he lets himself step into the delusion for a minute, lets himself take what he needs and actually believe it, and then SNAP, it breaks, and the glass shatters and the dam gets a leak and all of a sudden all the stuff he's pushed down and pushed down and pushed down for decades – for his whole life – is starting to bubble up to the surface and it's all yelling look at me! look me in the face!!!!

and standing right there in front of him while he goes down this spiral is buck with a hand on his shoulder

[atopvisenyashill]

do you think petyr ever genuinely loved cat?

i mean that’s kinda complicated just bc it’s like. what even is “love” what qualifies as feeling love. can you call what tywin feels for jaime “love” when all tywin’s love does is make jaime increasingly more miserable and jaded about his life? can you call what alicent feels for aegon “love” when she’s specifically been pushing him towards a fate he doesn’t want his whole life? can you call what joffrey feels for his mother “love” when joffrey is outwardly very derisive of women & wives and clearly thinks cersei is weak and stupid? i would personally say that rhaenyra loves jacaerys but you can't ignore that this is a very selfish, very possessive, one track mind sort of love where jacaerys is not allowed to be truthful with her the way he wants; it's love on her terms only. i personally love to argue that like, viserys i and aegon ii DO in fact love their kids (yes, all of them) despite their deadbeat tendencies but you could call it perhaps a selfish sort of love as well, a love that is more a reflection of oneself than any sort of dedication to their children. i would argue cersei doesn’t particularly LIKE tommen but does love him, and that she doesn’t know a thing about who myrcella really is but does love her, but really, is that love worth a damn in the end when she’s being actively vicious towards tommen for acting like the child he is? i think it all comes down to like, how do YOU define love - is it merely a feeling or is it an action?

for petyr, i think when he was very young, pre-injury, he felt a sort of love for catelyn yes. maybe an immature sort of love, like the way you feel about your high school girlfriend or your college best friend; there’s real, deep, consuming emotion there esp when you compare those feelings to your fleeting crushes of early childhood but it’s not as selfless, not as mature perhaps. i wouldn’t call this an “untrue” love - what’s that line from stand by me, where gordie says that he never had any friends he loved so much as the ones he had when he was 12. i think this is the sort of love petyr & catelyn had for each other. it’s about growing up together, figuring out who you are alongside another person who is figuring out who they are. that’s a connection you don’t get to have at any other point in your life! no one else knows the romantic fantasies petyr had as a child, back when he still BELIEVED they could come true, no one else knows what catelyn was like back when her grief still kept her up at night.

but again, this is a very selfish love. it is a love that disregards catelyn's feelings on the matter, it is a love that turns her into a prize to be won instead of a real woman with real feelings, it is a love in which petyr can justify utterly ruining her life and the lives of her husband and children because he's been ~sleighted~ (no he fucking hasn't, HE NEVER ASKED CATELYN HOW SHE FELT!!). i think like a lot of men in this series, when you get into that "does he love x" question, it's like...what does it matter? in the end, does it matter whether tywin loved his kids? does it matter whether robert and rhaegar loved lyanna? does it matter that viserys loved rhaenyra, that jaehaerys loved alysanne, that hoster loved lysa? i think petyr feels like he really did love catelyn and i think he felt a childish sort of love for her that can only spring from growing up together. but that love was always just as much about proving himself to be just as good as the nobility he served, about being better than brandon stark, about his concepts of masculinity and worth and class. he loves the catelyn that existed in his mind and while i would argue that when they were small, the real catelyn and the imaginary one had many similarities, that love in the end is not enough for him to actually see her as a fully fleshed out woman with her own needs, her own desires, her own dreams, and if his image of her now is bitter it's because she dared to step out of that fantasy he tried to trap her in.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for being semi-close to someone a lot younger than me?

This is something I've been worried about for a while, but it's become more prominent lately after me seeing several people say it's inherently creepy for an adult (or even just way older person) to be interacting with a child. And I really don't want to be like that, I don't want to hurt a kid ever, especially since I know what it's like to be groomed myself.

So I (18F) have known this kid (13) for about 3 years now. They reached out to me online because of similar interests- mainly in games and in YouTube channels, and we bonded a lot over that. They didn't have their age in their bio so I didn't immediately know their age, but I did find out a few months in.

Over the course of when we've known each other I've been as careful as I can to be age appropriate. I never bring up anything sexual for obvious reasons (the only time it ever came up was them asking what a sexual term meant, which made me very uncomfortable and I tried to change the subject... to which they started repeatedly inappropriately using the word. They ended up looking up the definition and where horrified. Even that conversation makes me feel wrong).

I also make sure to not put any of my personal issues on them. I couldn't always hide when I was upset- both because for the first year of us knowing each other I had unmedicated ADHD that made my mood swing a lot, and for the past 2 1/2 years or so I've been in a very toxic relationship that I still don't know how to get out of and quite frankly, am scared to get out of because I don't know how they'll react if I do actually leave them. Do to this, there's been times they could tell something was off and would ask me what's wrong. I avoided telling them as much as possible, just giving them something vague and reminding them that it's not their responsibility to help me, because they would always try to help cheer me up, and even that didn't feel right because they're a kid. They should be focusing on themself, not me. The worst of this though, is there was a time I was struggling heavilly with suicidal thoughts. I was planning to attempt, and sent out a vague "goodbye" type message, trying not to make it too obvious what was happening. They caught on though. They weren't the one who helped me calm down from that but I still know how awful it is to be sitting there, scared you're going to loose someone important to you. Especially for a kid. I've apologized for that happening many times, and it hasn't repeated, but every time they just go "It's fine, you were a struggling kid too back then" as if that makes that okay. It doesn't feel right.

Throughout the 3 years we've known each other, I've also tried to help out where I can with several issues they've had. Which was pretty much just me giving advice for how to handle difficult situations where I felt I could, and offering comfort and reassurance where I couldn't. Among other things, I helped them recognize several instances where other people they met online where intentionally trying to groom them. I explained to them that it wasn't normal for someone my age to want to be with them/find them attractive, because there where several instances of them telling me of 15/16 year olds getting with them. That no responsible person my age would be doing that to them, and that it wasn't okay for them to do that.

Because of the help I've given them, I notice they look up to me quite a lot. They have told me they see me as a role model and "the best person they know" (I can guarantee I'm not, and have tried to get them to not see me that highly because that seems unhealthy). They even see me as a sort of parental figure, including calling me parental-like names. That by itself I don't mind too much, I know they had a terrible home-life and didn't feel they could actually look up to their real life parents. So if I am giving them something I think every child deserves to have (a parental role model they can look up to), I'm glad. I just worry I'm not as good a role model for that as they think I am, and that I'm a creep, just like the ones I have gotten away from them in the past. I do care about them a lot, and do see them in that sort of familial way, and I want to protect them and help them have a better life, because I know they have struggled a lot and if I am able to help them, I want to. But I'm worried I'm causing the same harm that has been caused to me, and that others have tried to/have caused to them in the past without even realizing what I'm doing wrong. I don't want to be like those creepy assholes.

AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[enhaheeseung]

At your service l. Heeseung

Pairing: live in maid heeseung x rich fem reader

Warnings : age gap, smut, protected sex, fluff, cursing, vulgar language, angst.

Note : hi, sorry this is taken so long to update, but here is chapter number six.

Masterlist (not updated)

WC : 2,333.

If anyone wants links to other chapters lmk!

✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩

Heeseung opened his eyes to be greeted by the clock that read 7:02, and your arms wrapped around his waist. His eyes widened in shock. He had never slept so long in his whole life.

He grabbed his phone from the nightstand to text Jay.

Real life bambi 🦌: How does it feel waking up in a cold, empty bed?

Jay park my car in your garage 🐦 : You're not still leading her on, are you?

Real life bambi 🦌: I'm not. She's the one that's hungry for my dick, and I just give it to her.😏

Jay park my car in your garage 🐦 : You’re ✨disgusting✨ Are you still making her a birthday cake?

Real life bambi 🦌: Of course, but why are you bringing that up? It's like forever away.

Jay park my car in your garage 🐦 : Hate to burst your bubble, but it's like three weeks away,

“Three weeks!?" heeseung shouted. Causing you to stir in your sleep.

He quickly slapped his hand over his mouth.

He gently moved your arms from his waist and left a note, leaving the bed as quietly as possible and making his way to his bathroom to get ready for school so he wouldn’t wake you.

He made you a few dishes for breakfast. And then he took an apple for himself, rushing to school with a few minutes to spare.

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You woke up feeling around the bed with your eyes still closed. Once you felt it was empty, you figured heeseung had already gone to school.

You got up, rubbed your eyes, and saw a small note on your nightstand.

"Morning my darling, I'm off to school, and I probably won't be back till much later, so don't wait up for me. Don't worry. I packed a few dishes for you before I left. See you later tonight, beautiful."

You smiled after reading the note. You decided on taking a bath instead of a shower, hoping to kill time while he was away. Maybe it was too soon to miss his presence, but you did.

In the beginning, his looks attracted you, but as time passed, there were so many things to love about him.

It was definitely too soon to feel this way about him, and you knew it. This was one of the many reasons you had been taking advantage of in the past, and one of the things you swore against was trusting yet another person so easily.

But here you are, falling in love with your live-in maid and trusting him with your whole heart, yet it hasn't even been two months yet.

You had hoped that eventually, he would feel the same way, but only time could tell you were quite the impatient person, but you would wait for him.

✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩

After heeseung got out of school, he asked Jay to accompany him to the store to shop for your birthday.

They walked side by side on the way to the store. He had already decided what he was going to make for you.

"She loves strawberries, so I decided to make her a strawberry shortcake," he said with a bright smile. He felt proud that he remembered you telling him how much you liked strawberries.

He loved watching your eyes light up every time he had them prepared for you, along with your breakfast.

"You look like a creep with that smile on your face." Jay threw in his two cents that literally nobody asked for,

'I can't wait to surprise her. I really hope she'll like it," they arrived at the grocery store a few minutes later.

"Are you sure you don't like her? I mean, you're going through a lot, especially seeing how she already gave you the goods."

"First things first, strawberries." he ignored his friend's questions, grabbing a basket at the entrance.

"heeseung!" Jay raised his voice slightly, gaining the attention of some shoppers by accident.

"What do you want me to tell you? Yeah, I had sex with her a few times, and now I caught feelings for her. Some sappy unrealistic bull crap. She's letting me stay in her house and paying me a ridiculous amount of money. The least I can do is give her a small gift,"

Jay just nodded his head, a sigh leaving his lips. The whole situation was making him feel a bit uneasy, especially cause of heeseung’s messy past with his ex’s jay just wanted to see him happy, and the idea that he might like you made him excited, but if heeseung said he didn’t like you than he wasn’t going to push for it anymore.

"Now, can we just finish this already?" he walked past Jay, feeling irritated by his stupid questioning.

Jay followed closely behind him, staying silent for the most part.

heeseung had got everything on the list and was heading toward the checkout when he spotted a display with flower seeds.

"Ooh, do you think y/n would like these?" he set down his basket, kneeling to take a closer look. He picked up the packet of sunflower seeds, showing them to Jay.

"What girl doesn't like flowers?"

"For once, you actually said something remotely smart" he grabbed four packets. Adding them to his basket,

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You finished with your bath, and still hours before heeseung came home. You took it upon yourself to add a few decorations to heeseung's room, not too many, but just the right amount.

You had spoken to him about adding some furniture and a few paintings on the wall. He said that he would eventually do it when he got some free time.

At least that's what he told you, but ultimately, he just didn't want to waste time with decorating cause he'd be leaving soon.

You didn't hear when he came home, and you were putting the final touches up when you heard his footsteps coming upstairs.

You quickly bolted out of his room with your back pressed against his door.

"Hi," you said nervously.

"Hi?" he noticed your suspicious behavior right away. "What were you up to?"

"Nothing," you reply a little too quickly.

"Okay, can you let me in my room, please?" he smiled, still unsure of what you were up to.

You moved aside slowly. You were a bit nervous that he wouldn't like it.

His eyes went wide immediately. He turned back to you with his mouth agape. Eyes darting from you to the room.

"You didn't have to." he hugged you, placing a kiss on your cheek.

'but I wanted to. I missed you. Where were you all day?"

"It's a secret, and I missed you too, darling. I was so close to skipping and spending all morning with you."

"It's a good thing you didn't. School is important." You hugged him back.

"Not as important as you. Give me a kiss." he leaned down so you could press your lips to his

He picked you up and tossed you on his bed, throwing his backpack to the other side of the room.

"What are you doing?"

"Oh, nothing. I'm just going to have sex with a beautiful girl in my beautiful room." He climbed on the bed, hovering over you.

"I've been thinking about you all day," you admitted.

"Oh yeah? What about me?" his hands made their way to your shirt, taking his time with each and every button.

"Your smile, your hands," you pulled his shirt over his head. "Your body and what it feels like when you're on top of me."

"Funny, cause that's exactly what I was thinking about you too," he trailed kisses down your stomach, grabbing the waistband of your two-piece and dragging it down your legs, noticing your matching top and bottoms.

"For me?" he asked with a grin on his face.

"All for you," you wrapped your legs around him, bringing him in for a kiss.

"Absolutely beautiful," he positioned between your legs and slowly rolled his hips into you, moving his head to the side of your neck, leaving hickeys just below your ear.

"Hee, I want to feel you inside me now." It was like a switch went off in his head when those words left your mouth.

He instantly shot up from the bed. Kicking off his pants and underwear before he walked over to his backpack, digging inside for something.

He stood above you, holding a small box in his hand and waving it around. "Look what I got," he smiled while opening the package as fast as possible, grabbing the foil packet and ripping it open.

"You're crazy," you chuckled. You couldn't believe he actually bought condoms.

"Crazy for you' he winked, giving himself a few pumps before sliding the latex on.

He got back on top of you, but you quickly flipped him over.

"Oh," he smiled. You laced your fingers together, putting your hands behind his neck.

He kissed your forearm while he held your thighs in his hands.

You straddled his lap, grinding down on his cock. You moved your panties to the side, your heat finally coming in contact with his hard-on.

"oh my god," he looked down, watching his dick slide between your pussy lips.

You laughed softly and took his length in your hand, rubbing it on your folds and wasting no time as you pushed his cock inside of you.

He moaned, squeezing on your thighs tightly, eyes traveling to you, getting ready to unclip your bra.

"Can I?" he asked, looking up at you with his big shiny eyes.

"You can do anything you want, hee."

He slid his hands up your sides, reaching for the clip on the back, fumbling with it slightly.

You waited for him patiently while he focused on unhooking your bra.

Once he unclipped it, You lifted your arms so he could easily pull it off.

"so fucking beautiful," he pulled you flush against his chest, bucking his hips into you slowly.

"Hee, just relax. I want to take care of you tonight." You put your hands on his shoulders.

"But-" you placed your finger to his lips to keep him quiet.

"Let me," you bounced up and down, riding him slowly.

"Okay," he rested against his headboard.

"You look perfect like this." You tipped his chin up, making him hold eye contact with you.

He trailed his palm on the valley of your breasts before taking them in his hands and massaging them gently.

The slow pace was getting nearly unbearable for both of you.

"Please go faster," you followed his command. Even though he wasn't on top, you still gave him full control over you.

You rode him a little faster. The material of your panties rubbing against his cock adding even more pleasure.

"Feeling good?" you ask, picking up the pace.

"So good." he leaned his head to your chest, rolling his tongue around your nipple.

You gripped his hair tightly, making him groan against your chest from the slight pain.

He gulped loudly before switching to your other nipple, giving it the same amount of care.

You held onto his shoulders, gaining more leverage to bounce on him, hitting a better, deeper angle inside of you.

"Fuck y/n," he let out quick breaths, you could feel him twitch, and You knew he wasn't going to last much longer. You moved your hand to rub your clit, so you could both cum together.

He quickly replaced your hand with his, and it felt ten times better than your own as you threw your head back in pleasure.

"Are you gonna cum, hee? You leaned down to connect your lips with his just in time for him to let out a whiny yes into the kiss.

He wrapped his arm around you, helping you ride him faster to bring you to your orgasm.

"let it out, darling," he spoke onto your lips as he put his thumb on your clit, rubbing it in fast circles.

He could feel your walls tightly convulsing around him, and that's all it took for him to fill up the condom with his cum.

"oh, hee, I'm cumming, cumming" you whimpered out, rolling your hips tiredly.

"fuck yes, that's a good girl" He dug his hands into your hips, bringing you down on his shaft gently, so you could feel every last bit of him inside you while your walls clenched tightly on his length.

He encircled your waist with his arms, giving you a tight squeeze. Your head automatically falling into the crook of his neck.

"You okay?" he chuckled, feeling how your body slightly shook.

You nodded your head. Unable to speak while you caught your breath.

He ran his hand through your hair. Pressing his lips to your cheek. "Mwah." he rested his chin on your shoulder, hugging you into his body.

You lay together, basking in each other's body heat for a few moments until he gradually went soft inside of you.

He pulled out of you and got up, tossing the condom in the bathroom trash. He walked over to his backpack, grabbing the packets of flower seeds he had bought from earlier.

"Hurry up. I miss you already," you whined, missing his warmth.

He got under the covers with you, and you clung to him instantly. "Maybe you should skip school tomorrow. I don't know if I can spend a moment without you."

He glanced down to see you smiling at him. For some reason, he felt a strange feeling in his chest.

It didn't take long for him to figure out what he felt was guilt, but he shrugged it off. He'd be leaving in a few weeks anyway.

"What are you thinking about?" you asked while you poked his chest.

Then he remembered the packet in his hand, and he showed them to you. "I thought we could plant these together. Do you like them?"

"I would love to, and they're my favorite," you pecked his cheek and yawned afterward.

"Let's sleep now, precious." he wrapped a hand around you, holding you close to him.

Just a few more weeks, he told himself before shutting off the lamp on his nightstand.

✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩

I have to make a new taglist so If anyone wants to be added pls lmk!

Permanent taglist:®• @hello-stranger24 @ashxsmoon @lhsggg @scarlet127 @bunhoons @axartia @kpopscruggles @badidealy @heeseungleeworld @jayroseyy @bangchanhasbigfeet @duolingofanaccount @oceanyocean @hee-in @heesgirl @bambisgirl @heeaddict @heartandfangs @nyxtwixx @iamliacamila

Thanks for reading likes comments and reblogs are always appreciated sorry for any typos or errors I hope you all have a good day/night🖤

[th3archivisst]

Thinking about Dream and Hob again!! It's dreamling week so my previous posts are getting attention and that has reinstated my feelings about them. Therefor, lil ficlet I'm making up as I go because they are very sweet

-

A week after meeting his mysterious stranger for the first time in far too long, Hob is still giddy with happiness. His students see it, he knows, and it's impacting how well his lectures go, but he can't bring himself to care.

His thoughts keep drifting to that smile, the damn smile that erased any and all resentment he may have felt for being stood up in 1989.

So naturally, his dreams have drifted in a more positive, if dark and mysterious, direction. He dreams of his stranger almost every night, whether he remembers it or not. The times he does remember lighten his step for hours on end, contentment buzzing in his heart every time he remembers that his stranger said they would meet again soon.

And meet again soon they do, although not how Hob envisioned it.

He had picked up lucid dreaming quite a while ago, so any dreams he had tended to be a reflection of whatever he had thought about before bed. This time is no different.

The bed underneath him is warm and soft, the stranger in his arms relaxed and smiling. They're both still dressed, unlike some other dreams Hob has had, but he's content with that. The closeness is enough, more than enough.

Conversation isn't particularly prevalent in these dreams, the man and the miracle happy in the quiet moments they carve out for themselves. The few sentences they do exchange are ones Hob treasures more than the life he so cherishes. This time is no different.

Really, Hob should've caught on sooner.

Brown eyes gaze into diamond that had softened into coal, and his stranger spoke.

"You still do not know my name, Hob Gadling."

Hob tilts his head.

"No. You've always seemed a bit beyond names." He smiles, a similar tug pulling at his dear stranger's lips.

"Dream." The man murmurs, a vulnerability Hob hasn't seen before painting the words with light. Confused, Hob chuckles.

"Yes, I'm quite aware I'm dreaming."

His stranger shakes his head.

"My name, Hob."

Hob blinks.

Then narrows his eyes and sits up.

"Wait, I'm dreaming. So did my brain just... make up a name for you? I mean, it fits, but it's not real, is it?" His confusion only amplifies when he sees the amusement in his stranger's - Dream's? - eyes. "What?"

"There is no such thing as 'just a dream', Hob. This isn't imaginary, I'd have thought you knew that by now."

Before Hob can formulate a response, Dream leans up and presses their mouths together gently.

The smile he gives Hob is so fond that his heart hurts. What hurts more, however, is the sound of his alarm as it jerks him from his slumber.

Needless to say, the next time Hob Gadling will dream of his Dream, he will have very many questions.