#and still expect people to approach you. to stick around - maybe. but that's not how you start friendships

[pouletaulait]

I don’t mind the conversation either. I always enjoy having a discussion with people who have a different point of view and who are open to having a discussion, like you are, so I appreciate your reaction. My reblogg wasn’t intended as criticism, not at all. I just wanted to point out that personally I can’t quite see why this story would be distorted into something it’s not intended to be if we approach it under a romantic lens. Like I said, personally I think it’s intended to be a romance, albeit not a banal or a „simple“ one but you’re absolutely free to disagree. I understand realism as a fictional portrayal that’s intended to be realistic, in the sense that it attempts to portray a situation in a fashion that stays as close to a possible reality as possible and in which the author seeks to represent this portrayal in an objective manner. A romance, in this context, I understand to be an unrealistic, idealised portrayal of love/a relationship. (Do our understandings differ on this?) But like you pointed out in your original post (if I understand you correctly) what we deem realistic or unrealistic is ultimately influenced by our subjective perception of reality, which might explain why our opinions on this differ. It seems like I didn’t explain my view very clearly; There are many aspects of the manga that I do find realistic in it’s portrayal, such as the CSA, what I don’t find realistic, however, is the portrayal of love, the romance. I find it very idealised and romanticised for the most part (i.e the falling in love at first sight (I’ll get to that), Doumeki being Yashiro’s exact type, Doumeki happens to be impotent which allows Yashiro to develop feelings for him, the fact that Doumeki is completely accepting of everything Yashiro does regardless of how Yashiro treats him, the fact that Doumeki is still in love with Yashiro after he shot him the leg, maybe he even stayed in the Yakuza world just to be near him (although who knows why exactly he did that?) Idk maybe it’s just me but I find it very unrealistic. It’s this romantic idea of „there is this perfect person out there who accepts you just the way you are and you don’t have to do anything to keep them happy, you can even shoot them in the leg and they’ll still love you, they’ll stick around no matter what it takes to be with you“. Idk, to me personally this doesn’t seem like the author seeks to portray a realistic relationship here and to me that’s what it boils down to when I’m saying that to me it reads like a romance (of course this is just my opinion, I don’t know anything about Sensei’s actual intentions)

What I meant by „she’s toying with the idea of idealized romance“ is the fact that most, but not everything ,about the romantic aspect is idealised, hence my example that Doumeki’s love doesn’t cure Yashiro’s trauma. Maybe „toying“ is not the most accurate expression to use in English in this case… but what I mean is that Sensei is ,like I said, employing many aspects of an idealised love, imo, but that she doesn’t fully „commit“ to it if you know what I mean; the way I see it she’s building it up to be this fantasy, this ideal of almighty love, but then she defies our expectation by creating a climax (Chapters 23-25) that’s the opposite of what you’d expect from a romance; instead of Doumeki’s love being the answer to all of Yashiro’s problems and them ending up together, it ends in a disaster (in the sense that Doumeki ends up hurting Yashiro deeply and that they part ways). So, I think she’s taking a more realistic approach in that sense but I think the story remains anchored in the idea of the ideal romance, because that seems to be its point of reference imo. If there was no idealised romance at the core of it (which to me seems evident in the exposition) there’d be no expectation to defy in the first place if you get what I’m saying. I hope I explained this in a somewhat understandable way… but maybe this is not making any sense to you since you seem to have a very different opinion on Yashiro’s feelings. Just to clarify: You don’t think he’s in love with Doumeki? Or do you think he doesn’t want to be in a committed relationship with him, or something else entirely? The way I see it, there certainly was an instant attraction to Doumeki on Yashiro’s side. I guess you could argue that it wasn’t „love“ but just sexual attraction, that’s certainly debatable, but the way I see it, he at least started developing feelings for Doumeki very quickly, hence his interference with Doumeki’s sister, his jealousy, etc. so, yes, the „falling in love at first sight“ part comes down to interpretation but personally I find it likely and my assumption is that he wants to be in a committed relationship with Doumeki (that’s purely my assumption based on my interpretation which obviously heavily influenced by the fact that I understand this to be a romance) Anyways, what I meant by problematic: If I’d look at this story as a entirely realistic portrayal of a relationship or love, I’d find a lot of aspects of it very problematic (how Doumeki is completely devoting himself to Yashiro, how he’s basically stalking him, how he keeps going after Yashiro despite him shooting him in the leg, etc.) That’s what I meant by I wouldn’t root for them to end up together if I’d look at this as a realistic portrayal. It wouldn’t be an irredeemable situation for me either but it’s just nothing that I’d be interested in reading, that’s my personal preference. I’m not opposed to realism in general but, like I said, in this specific case, it doesn’t make sense to me personally. Honestly, I don’t think our opinions on this are entirely different because I agree that Kou Yoneda sensei appears to be taking a quite realistic approach in many respects. I think where our opinions differ seems to me to be the point that you seem to regard this as a work of realism, while I think of it as a romance that challenges romantic ideals in some ways but that ultimately stays anchored in an idealised romanticism. But like I said I think I’ll only know for sure once the story’s been told in its entirety.

An example of novel that follows the literary realism tradition but is sometimes approached under romantic lens, and therefore distorted into something else entirely - maybe because of the (bad) movies adaptations? because of the marketing and the covers? I don’t know but I will link this no longer rebloggable post for you to check - is Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov.

I read Lolita when I was seventeen, felt deeply discomforted but I liked the book, understood what it was doing with its narrator, but I have to add, before reading Lolita, I had already read Flaubert (Sentimental Education, didn’t finish Madame Bovary) and Émile Zola to name a few. I think that growing up I have read more books in this genre than others? I don’t know considering that back then I had to read a lot classics for school.

But long story short, I think something similar maybe it’s occurring with Saezuru. To be clear, I am not saying that you have to read it in a certain way, please I don’t really want to even imply that. Read it for yourself and your pleasure first. What I am saying is that, like Lolita, to me Saezuru makes total sense if we assume that it is written with a realistic intention and therefore not exactly bound by the rules of romantic novels that tend to present more positive and idealized views. After all manga are divided into demographics more than their genre, so authors draw very different stories. I still want these characters to find happiness! But I also want to be able to buy the eventual resolution and therefore I appreciate that the development of the story feels organic.

Anyway just a thought. Nakobov himself wrote (in Strong Opinions):

Reality is a very subjective affair. I can only define it as a kind of gradual accumulation of information; and as specialization. If we take a lily, for instance, or any other kind of natural object, a lily is more real to a naturalist than it is to an ordinary person. But it is still more real to a botanist. And yet another stage of reality is reached with that botanist who is a specialist in lilies. You can get nearer and nearer, so to speak, to reality; but you never get near enough because reality is an infinite succession of steps, levels of perception, false bottoms, and hence unquenchable, unattainable. You can know more and more about one thing but you can never know everything about one thing: it’s hopeless. So that we live surrounded by more or less ghostly objects— that machine, there, for instance. It’s a complete ghost to me— I don’t understand a thing about it and, well, it’s a mystery to me, as much of a mystery as it would be to Lord Byron.

As for marketing, if you check the link and think about Saezuru: the covers and merchandise vs the content of the chapters, vs the story as it’s told, the parallel with Lolita makes sense to me. The cover only has one imperative: to sell. But once you are alone with the story, you see that stylistic choices, tone, everything suggest that you read it in a critical way.

The way Yoneda Kou draws is also quite sober, discarding decorative details and paying attention more to frame and pov. The way she presents what happens is objective and detached, neutral I’d say, making us impartial observers most of the time, letting the actions speak without commentary being made. The dialogue is hard for our translators because it recreates the speech patterns of the various characters faithfully. And these characters are common yakuza that live harsh realities, the gritty social aspect of it is visible and part of the story, as well as social injustices and personal trauma, and keen and realistic attention to human behavior.

I guess all this clued me in to reading the story the way I do, and probably also why I chose it in the first place. Realism is the genre of fiction I am more read in, although I am expanding my horizons more and more.

[mishkakagehishka]

Different anon, lolthia uses @/edenstarrie now and was online at 4pm yesterday. Some account claiming to be a mutual of theirs from another platform (@/burneraccount6000) made a bunch of posts claiming that Lolthia said that they had a medical condition that could kill them if they got too stressed and that being isolated and alone is causing them tobstress and become extremely depressed. Them being dead is just an assumption since they haven't been online. Ngl, I think everyone is being too hard on the. From what I've been seeing since they moved to edenstarrie they've just been posting regular Eden content and just want to get noticed. I think they deserve a second chance despite everything but maybe I'm just too forgiving?

Tbh i think everyone should make their own decisions re: who deserves a second chance and who doesn't, i will admit i feel bad for them often, but the problem is that they self-sabotage way too much by spreading negativity in the main tags which naturally turns people off. I've no idea what their twt presence is like, i didn't even know they had one, but if they were really just normal there, i hope they did make a friend or two.

But, you know, it's mostly all this anon harassment that somehow always ends up tying back to them that makes me not wanna give them another chance. As i said, since i blocked them, i haven't seen any gatekeeper drama either. And now that i don't block one of their blogs - look what happens. Again, not saying anything. But at least it's an omen that friendship between me and them is not meant to be.

[moonsaver]

The isekai trope is burning my brain. Pls have this yan!alhaitham with isekai'd reader who actually tells him the deal.

---

What if you got isekai'd into genshin? (specifically sumeru for my taste of scenario)

And alhaitham actually got to know? Maybe you don't even hide it while he's talking to you and writing down whatever you're saying while you're half dazed, sitting up on the stretcher, mentioning an entirely different world. Investigations show no result for it, meaning you really must have come from a different world – which isn't entirely impossible. But it seems yours is a slightly different case.

Regardless, alhaitham still doesn't want trouble. Leaves you be with the matra to discuss and sort out your own situation for the most part.

And then you get assigned to work at the Akademiya.

Its temporary, just until you gain your bearings. And the higher-ups (ahem, Nahida), determine he's appropriate to look after you for a period of time. He's a pretty well-adjusted guy, doesn't bother much, and simple enough to not complicate things (you may protest regarding the kinds of books he reads, but to his standard, it is simple. Just don't bother with that.)

Regardless, he's now in charge of you.

He teaches you the main language Teyvat currently uses, or at least the main language talked in major parts of Sumeru. Stays with you after work hours from time to time to help you learn – but only in exchange for knowledge about your own world. He studies you – or rather your subjects, your culture, your languages. If he's teaching you, you have to appeal something to him, and of equal magnitude aswell. So for the most part, your time is spent trying to piece together how to get you back to your world, or simple cultural and linguistic discussions. Unless that isn't your thing; but you both can find a common ground even then, considering Alhaitham doesn't shy away from different areas of study.

It's only natural your bond progresses. You both go from "somewhere between acquaintances and strangers" to "might occasionally greet while passing by". It's not soon before some of the other higher ups approach you to help get a task done from him, since it always seems like he manages to evade them, going who knows where during his working hours. Maybe it's an important task that can't simply be left on his desk. But you're a bit of a special case - Alhaitham doesn't mind sharing a few details with you; as long as you can appropriately determine what is and isnt worth his time. So you somehow manage to find him and get things done.

Its a bit strange. There's only a few ever constants in his life when it comes to people, and doesn't expect much in return. But having you around is different. Having you around feels.. strangely understanding. Although he doesn't mind the solitude, a part of him has always felt secluded from the masses. And you seem to be stuck in a similar situation. It's only natural you two seem to stick together. It's natural. That's what he tells himself.

And then you start to fizzle out from his grasp.

You make new friends. Newer people who may or may not know about where you really might be from. You learn newer things, far beyond Alhaitham's scope (or rather, just his scope of teaching), you get involved with many, many, people, even get invited to events he doesn't. It hurts a bit when he sits silently at your usual table at the library, cozily tucked away from most prying eyes, sitting across where you should have been, but aren't. but he won't admit it. You did mention you're busy and might not be able to come. But something inside him twists the slightest bit.

And he will admit it– only to himself. He has no grasp on his judgement nor principle when he decides to destroy all your documents, leaving you to hopelessly and despairingly run around to somehow, someway, recover them, trying to revive all the information you earnestly gathered.

He begrudgingly gets up to attend the door in the middle of the night, almost regretting not having worn his headphones, when he stops thinking for a moment. Its you. Of course it is. The corner of his mouth threatens to twitch up, but he resists. He invites your shaking, teary form inside with silence and serves you some tea, before sitting down in front of you. It's almost funny how familiar the scene is – except this time you're alone much later at night with him, and this time you're so distressed you can barely get the words out before you break down.

And he takes care of you, silently. His large, warm hand soothingly rubs your back as he gives you space to cry and blubber out all your stresses, humming to let you know he's listening, tapping the saucer of the tea cup when you're sobbing a bit too heavy and need a break. It's enough to make you realize just who you really need to stick by. None of your friends would really care for you, would they? They're simply fascinated by the strange things you say. Alhaitham and you have a deeper connection, don't you think? Maybe if you're a bit of a romantic thinker yourself, he can twist his words just right enough to even imply you both must have been meant by fate to meet.

In the end, it all settles when you decide to sleep over, cancel your plans for the next day as you get ready to sort out your information with Alhaitham all over again. And this time, he can study you closely.

-

[hornychristianprincess]

wasted (leehan x fem reader) pt. 1

paring: leehan x fem reader genre: smut, fluff, angst, fuckboy!leehan, college au word count: 6k summary: hooking up with a stranger at a party is fun when said stranger is a tall, attractive philosophy major whose name you don’t learn until weeks later. warnings: explicit sex scenes, oral (female and male receiving), a lil butt action but nothing too crazy

ao3 link can be found HERE.

“You’re a new face,” remarked the rich, husky voice belonging to the stranger who had just approached you. In a house party that was relatively packed, you thought you were blending in by sticking to the wall and enjoying your solo cup full of unlabeled liquor. And yet, here was the approaching figure of a man so tall you had to crane your neck to face him, knowing nothing about you and yet still managing to observe how out of place you seemed.

“That obvious, is it?”

“Don’t worry. It’s nothing about you, per se. It’s just, these things are usually pretty tight-knit; the same people come every time. So when someone’s new, you notice,” he tells you, his slow, calm way of talking making you feel relieved and deeply curious at the same time. “Do you go to school here?” 

You nod your head in confirmation, though it feels foreign to do so when parts of you still feel more like a visitor than a student. “I just transferred here.”

He smiles hospitably at this, gesturing his arms out towards the room of people who surround you. “Welcome to our vibrant community. Please enjoy your stay. Refreshments are in the back and the ice machine is down the hall.”

You giggle genuinely at him and the sort of clumsy, awkward way his words seem to land on you. He’s the kind of person you were expecting to meet when you transferred from your rural state school to this smaller liberal arts college. There’s something almost dorky and strange about him, from the way he dresses in an oversized cardigan and big round glasses to the way he holds eye contact with you for what you deem longer than normal. And yet, his self-assuredness is crystal clear to you. It’s at this moment that you acknowledge to yourself how attractive you find him.

“Did you come here with someone?” he asks you, his posture changing so that he’s leaning into you just slightly.

“Yeah. My roommate is here somewhere—” you gesture aimlessly around you, “—probably getting tongued down in someone’s bathroom.”

At this point, you had been fighting off the inclination to assume that the man in front of you was chatting you up for any reason outside of sincere curiosity. But his intentions are made crystal clear when he replies, “Yeah? Care to follow suit?”

You laugh both out of amusement and shock at his forwardness, and even he seems taken aback by his own candor as he smiles in a sheepish, apologetic sort of way. Still, the way that his piercing dark eyes never seem to cease their burning into you, there’s no doubt in your mind that he meant every implication embedded in that response.

“You know, you never told me your name,” you point out, not sure why you are prolonging what feels like the inevitable moment tonight when you’ll find yourself tangled in bed with the handsome man in front of you. Perhaps you’d just like to talk to him for a little bit longer, enjoy the gratification of his attention. Or maybe it’s just fun to tease him and watch the way his eyes crinkle in bashful embarrassment.

You’re pleased when he seems no less interested in you even as you divert from his advances. In fact, he perks up at your observation. “That I did not. Call me pretentious, but I like to think that learning my name is a privilege.”

You show your disinterest in this notion with a scoff, something the stranger seems to take in stride. “Is a man’s name not all that he has in this world, from birth to death?” he asserts with a prideful smirk.

“Philosophical. That your major?”

“How’d you know?”

You’re starting to feel a little scared with just how much you’re beginning to love the sound of your overlapping laughter. When it dies down, you bask in the brief moments of silence where neither of you knows what to say next and instead just stare at each other’s faces in an almost innocent, child-like way. It’s so different from what you’re both feeling inside, anticipation and lust and desire swirling in a mix that makes your bodies feel charged.

“So since you’re not telling me your name, should I tell you mine?”

“Only if you feel I’m worthy of it,” he replies. The game that he’s playing confounds you but you see no harm in playing into it, something tantalizing and freeing about not being bound to the expectations of each other’s names.

“That, my friend,” you reply, “is yet to be decided.” You raise your hand to push against his shoulder, surprised at how sturdy the skin under his cardigan feels. He ricochets dramatically against the force of your hand, and when his body returns to yours, it’s closer than before. He rests his hand on the wall just above your head, the way he’s angled making him appear even taller than he did before.

“You know, I was exploring this house earlier, and there’s a room in the back with a comfortable-looking king-sized bed,” he says, words that would sound fuckboyish and crude if anyone else said them, but come out dorky and amusing when he does, especially when his next statement is, “And the entire time I was in there, all I could think was, wouldn’t it be nice to have someone to pillow fight with?”

You smile, the expression mirrored on the stranger’s handsome face as he watches you react to his off-putting way of flirting. You decide to help him out by being more direct. “Are you asking me to pillow fight with you, stranger?” you ask, voice tilted in your best attempt at sounding seductive.

“Only if you’d be willing, stranger.”

When your roomate convinced you to go out with her tonight, you were intrigued by the notion of getting to know this new campus community, plus the always-tempting chance to get a few drinks in your system. You weren’t thinking that you would be in this position, about to hook up with a guy who won’t even tell you his name. 

You’ve been feigning confidence up until this point, an easy enough task when the man in front of you is good-looking and talkative. But now, as you prepare to follow him with the pretty certain chance of having sex, you have to finish off the remnants of your drink first, allowing the heat of liquid courage to wash over you like a warm blanket.

“Lead the way,” you tell him, taking the hand that he offers you before being led through the crowd of partygoers.

He takes you into a bedroom that’s on the ground floor, allowing you to settle in in front of him as he takes heed to lock the door. The bass from the loud music outside vibrates against the enclosed walls of the room. You’re grateful that it’s not completely silent, otherwise this would feel more awkward. 

“See,” the stranger says, walking over to face you. “I wasn’t lying about the king-sized bed.”

With the way he’s standing over you, combined with the looming implications of what you’re about to do – or rather, what you’re about to let him do to you – you’re too anxious to laugh. Instead, you stare at him, waiting for him to make the first move.

“Do you like to kiss when you hook up?” he asks you, straight-forward and to the point. You like that. You’ve never understood people who don’t like to kiss those they’re having sex with. Is the act of kissing somehow more intimate than letting someone inside you?

“Depends,” you reply, already moving to cradle the side of his face with your hand. “Are you a good kisser?”

He doesn’t answer verbally, moving instead to lean in so that your lips meet. Everything about this man feels like a paradox. Your interactions thus far have felt innocent, awkward even, and yet they still led to you following him into a stranger’s bedroom with the intention of having sex. And now, though his looks and the way he carries himself feel so clumsy, the way he kisses you is intense, all-consuming. 

He wastes no time trying to build up to something intense. Without pretense, his tongue is invading the wetness of your mouth, forcing your lips open as an audible whimper of surprise spills out. One of his hands comes up to lace itself into your hair, and in another act that surprises you, he pulls on it so that your faces come even closer. You’ve never found the taste of liquor on someone’s lips more addicting than you do now. 

You pull away to find a smirk on his lips, cockiness written all over his expression as he asks, “What do you think?”

It’s hard to conjure up any words when his hand is still in your hair, tipping your head back so that his eyes can comfortably rake over your face and particularly linger on your reddened lips. “I think I really, really want you to fuck me,” is what you manage, and even if you were the type to feel shameful at such remarks, it would be hard to when your words visibly light up his handsome expression until he’s kissing you again.

Your lips melt into his in a kiss so passionate it has you both walking backward in an eager effort to get each other onto the bed. You waste no time in pawing the clothes off of his slender body, satisfied as you hear his jeans then his cardigan hit the carpeted floor with a soft plop.

He does the same when it comes to your dress, a flowy, strapless piece that required you to go braless for it to work. Once it’s off and you’re both down to just underwear, you’re met with the feeling of his bare skin against your bare skin, your bare chest against his bare chest, and more relieving than anything else, the feeling of the bed frame meeting the back of your thighs as you finally reach the bed.

Pushing you up onto the edge of the bed, he lets his hands wander the expanse of your body, enjoying the feeling of your tits squeezed in the palms of his hands. You lean into his touch, moaning a little in his mouth as he never stops kissing you, even as he reaches down to breach the waistband of your underwear. 

You don’t realize how wet you are until his slender fingers push out to separate your folds, a task made difficult as your sticky arousal glues your lips together. But he manages it dextrously, wasting no time in finding your clit and drawing slow, teasing circles with the pads of his fingers.

His other hand, which had up until this point been palming your breast idly, now comes up to hold your face as he regretfully pulls his lips from yours. He studies your expressions with furrowed eyebrows, a teasing lilt in his voice as he asks, “Do you like it when I touch you here?” 

Just as soon as you part your lips to respond, his fingers dip lower until he’s sliding two of them into your fluttering hole. Your wetness provides no resistance, and now he’s coiling them deep inside of you. “Or here?”

You can’t think or respond when he’s pumping his long, slender fingers in and out of you, an act made more intense as he forces you to look at him with his hand on your jaw keeping your head in place. 

If you had to describe sex you’ve had in the past, vulnerable isn’t a word you’d use. 

And yet, it’s exactly how you feel as his eyes never leave your face, overseeing every expression you make from overwhelmed to whimpering to having your lips parted in a moan. 

A faint part of you wonders if you should feel more uncomfortable with how intimate this sex feels. 

And yet, you don’t think you’ve ever felt more pent up just with someone's fingers inside of you than right now, especially when he opens his mouth to praise you in his deep voice.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he says, his breezy tone of voice reminiscent of a lullaby. “I’m so glad I met you tonight. Can’t wait to fuck you.”

He fucks his fingers deeper inside of you as he says this, causing you to mewl as you throw your head back in his hands. “Don’t make me wait, then,” you challenge, gripping his arm to steady yourself as another moan threatens its way to your lips.

“Such a needy girl, aren’t you?” he wolfishly remarks. “Well, if you insist.”

With am amused smile on his face, he pulls his fingers out of you, raising them between your two faces so that you both can look on at the wetness which coats them. You’re not at all surprised when he brings them to his lips, only turned on as he sucks both fingers clean with a wet smack.

“Wanna know what you taste like?” he proposes, his expression and tone of voice far too innocent for what he’s just done. You don’t respond, only pull him into you for a kiss so lewd it makes your insides jump. You reach your hand between your bodies as you kiss him, attaching your fingers to the bulge protruding from his boxers. You enjoy the feel of his clothed cock, large and substantial in your hands, before he’s pulling away to sigh against your lips. 

Your hand leaves his body as he moves away from you. “Don’t go anywhere. Need to grab a condom.”

You watch him in amusement as he goes to hunch over his discarded jeans. In his absence, you relax on your stomach, facing him on the edge of the bed. “Where would I go, stranger?”

“I don’t know,” he intones, returning to you with a silver packet in between his fingers. “But If I could freeze you like this forever, so pretty and waiting for me to fuck you, I would.”

The stranger’s way with words has your body responding once more, a ripple of electricity traveling up your legs and even more so when he takes off his boxers in front of you. You’re not ashamed at whatever expression of suprise is surely showing up on your face at the sight. 

You’d likely use the word pretty to describe his dick, veins bulging out of it like little vines and a tip that matches the rosy color of his lips. You decide then that he’s the biggest you’ve ever taken, though you suppose you should save that judgment for when he’s actually managed to fit inside of you.

Your thoughts are broken by his touch as he lifts your chin up with his hands, a smirk ever so prominent on his puffy lips. “My eyes are up here, you know.”

You both giggle at his cheekiness, a moment of humour that is promptly ended when the opening of the condom packet grabs your attention. You reach out to cease his movements with a hand on his wrist. He meets your gaze with a cute, confused look on his face. “Wanna taste you first, stranger” you assert with a blink.

“You’re so cute,” he remarks enjoyably, “But I won’t last if you do.”

You look up at him through your eyelashes, batting them extra hard as you say, “Just a peck?”

As you already suspected from the lack of conviction in his earlier refusal, he’s not at all stern as he moves to rub his thumb across your cheek. “Since you asked so nicely,” he replies permissively.

You barely have to lean forward off the bed for your mouth to reach his cock, tall and straight and hard in front of your face. Wetting your lips with your tongue, you press a kiss just underneath his tip, making eye contact as you pull away to watch as a heavy sigh leaves his lips. You don’t stop at just one peck, peppering them all along his shaft and enjoying the smoothness of his skin against your lips.

“I thought you said just a peck?” he reminds you when he notices what you’re doing, placing a hand on your hair but making no effort to push you away.

“Am I not pecking?” you ask, relishing in the groan he lets out when you wrap your puckered lips over his reddened tip. You’re just about to open your mouth fully before he finally shows some restraint, pulling you off of him with a tug of your hair.

“That’s enough,” he asserts, the mattress dipping from his weight as he hops onto the bed behind you. “If I’m not inside of you within the next 5 seconds, I’m gonna lose my mind.”

Conscious of his presence behind you, you raise your body into an arch and feel pleased when he immediately grabs at your hips to pull you in closer. He ignores the impatient little wiggles of your ass that you do in attempt to get him to fuck you, prefering instead to spread your pussy open with his fingers and groan as he watches arousal spill out of you. “You’re so fucking wet,” he remarks dreamily, sliding a languid finger inside of you in a way that makes your arch deepen. “And it’s all for me, isn’t it, baby?”

His vocal tone has taken a shift so that he sounds less adoring and more sadistic, the observance of your arousal being just for him stated almost matter-a-factly. You don’t know why it turns you on even more than before, but it does, especially as he plays idly with pussy as if he forgets it belongs to a living, breathing you.

You’re fighting off whimpers as his fingers continue their exploration of your entrance. You hear him let out a long, drawn out “Fuck,” under his breath before he’s withdrawing from you entirely and asking, “Can I eat you out?”

Images of his plump, rosy lips flash through your mind like a movie sequence before you’re humming out affirmatively, excitement of what’s to come making your body tense as you feel him laying down on the bed, feel his breath against your mound as he becomes level with your pussy, feel his lips against your clit as he goes in to take all of you in his mouth.

The sounds that fill the room now are nothing but a lewd combination of your moans, his slurping, and the continued blaring of music coming from outside the walls. The way that he eats pussy is almost just as clumsy and unsure as he is, but he somehow manages to make you cry out as his tongue expertly flicks against your clit, or he licks into your entrance to taste the arousal there. 

You feel yourself becoming lightheaded and breathless as he licks you closer into orgasm. Already worked up from all the time he spent fingering you, what feels like the last straw is when he experimentally licks upward and brushes his tongue against the tight skin of your asshole. Noticing how it makes you moan and reach back to pull at his long hair, he keeps going, wetting your ass with his tongue. 

Alternating between this and your cunt, it’s only a matter of time when you find yourself mewling and tensing as your orgasm takes over your body. Your thighs are shaking and your hands are pulling so hard at his hair that you’re afraid you’ll rip it, but nonetheless he holds you up with two large hands against your ass and groans as you come all over his face. 

When he finally pulls away from you, your body collapses against the bed, all the marks of a good orgasm hitting you at once – ringing ears, tensed limbs, rising chest. You’re brought back to Earth by the feeling of faint, fleeting kisses being left on the expanse of your spine, the stranger’s body pressed against yours before he’s level with you and moving to pull your head to face his.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, sweet and innocent in yet another moment of tenderness that feels inappropriate for the setting you’re in. Nonetheless, you nod and relish in the feeling of his mouth against yours once more, acknowledging faintly to yourself that he just might be the best kisser you’ve ever been with.

He brings your body back to life by snaking his arms underneath you, grabbing at your boobs and almost making you feel ticklish as he gently caresses your stomach. Pulling away from your lips, he mutters the command of, “Turn around,” against your lips that you follow with zeal.

Flat on your back, you’re brought face to face with the man who has exceeded your expectations in almost every way compared to anyone else you’ve slept with so casually. Long locks of dark hair drape against the sides of face as he holds himself above you, making him look intense, but only briefly before he’s asking through an impish smile, “Are you intimidated by eye contact?”

He says it to you like it’s a challenge, like he hopes you’ll be shy so that he can guide you through it anyway. You shake your head stubbornly. “No,” you answer, “But I’m intimated by you.” It’s true. You’ve definitely never met a person like him, never had sex feel so intimate with a complete stranger. It scares you.

“Don’t be. I’m really a softie,” he assures, a childlike expression of excitement lighting up his handsome features. He presses a hand against your cheek in a gesture of affection, lips curling into a grin. “Only, my dick is as hard as a rock right now. Kinda wanna bury it inside of you.”

“What’s stopping you?”

You’re surprised when, in reply, he adjusts his body so that he’s lined up perfectly with your entrance, his latex covered tip pressing just slightly into you. “That’s a great question,” he quips, and without any further pretense, he slots himself inside of you.

You let out identical sounding sighs as his cock is engulfed by the sensitive, wet inside of your pussy. He presses his hips against you, making sure he’s as deep as he possibly can be before looking down at you for your approval. “Feels good?”

“Yes. Oh god, yes,” you’re whimpering in reply, head already thrown back as you get used to the feeling of his girth filling you. 

Hearing you express how good you feel is all the stranger needs to hear before he’s pulling out of you, methodically ensuring that just the tip is left inside before pushing back in. His vigor catches you by surprise, leaving you no time to adjust as he continues at a feverish pace. Unintelligible, broken-sounding cries spill out from your lips with each moment his hips meet yours.

“You have such pretty eyes,” he remarks as he watches you, a compliment you don’t think you’ve ever heard before while being fucked into the next dimesion. “And a pretty mouth, too,” he adds, his thumb breaching the wet insides of your lips before he’s leaning down to kiss you. The kiss is messy as you struggle to meet each other’s mouths, devolving into a mixture of tongue and spit and broken breath.

“Talk to me. Tell me how good I’m fucking you,” he groans against your mouth, sitting up on his knees to fuck you in an angle that’s deeper that before. With the pounding that he’s giving you, you’re just barely able to catch your breath, let alone form the words to respond to him.

“Can’t…scream your name if I don’t know it,” you manage to say in a teasing sort-of-way, your smirk widening into an open-mouthed cry as you’re sure he grazes your g-spot with a particualrly deep drive of his hips. 

He chuckles at your way of trying to get him to share his name, and whether he’s truly serious in wanting to withhold it from you or because he just wants to tease you, he says, “Come on my cock, and maybe I’ll tell you.”

“Fuck me harder, and I will,” you reply tauntingly, not because he’s not already, but because even through the haze of your approaching orgasm, you want to see how he’ll respond to your challenge.

He smiles at this request, though while maintaining his same pace. “But I don’t wanna break you, sweet girl,” he remarks, and if he weren’t, too, about to crash into his approaching climax, he’d surely make it a point to tease you for how you clench at the pet name. Instead, he opts to slot a hand between your legs and make work of your clit, rubbing it in tantalizing circles. “Does this help?”

Just as you were sure this sex couldn’t get any better, the added stimulation to your clit has your entire body reeling with pleasure. “Oh god, yes. Don’t stop.”

With each approaching second, you can feel yourself about to fall apart, a condition only worsened when the stranger pulls you down by your hips, bringing him even deeper inside of you. You love the sound of his deep voice from above you, sounding almost far-away and dreamlike as he mumbles remarks like, “Keep making those pretty noises for me, baby,” that shoot straight to your core, only adding to your wetness.

“Fuck, you’re killing me baby,” is what he says as his own pleasure begins to reach it’s peak. You love the expressions he makes, the almost painful look on his face as he says, “Wish I could come inside this tight little pussy.”

Even with the knowledge that he put a condom on, you can’t help but react positively to the notion of being filled with his hot, sticky release. And without intending it, your walls close tightly around his cock in tandem with the loud moan that on its own revealed just how much you enjoyed that little tidbit of dirty talk. And without fail, the stranger is quick to pick up on it and tease you for it, though through his own gritted teeth and groans as he inches closer to release.

“Yeah, you’d like that wouldn’t you? If I filled you up with my cum? You wanna have my baby and you don’t even know my name?’

It’s the half-degrading, half-awe-inspired tone of voice he uses that throws you over the edge, your thighs shaking in anticipation of what you’re sure will be an earth-shattering orgasm. “I’m close,” you confess through baited breath.

“I know you are,” he acknowledges in reply, and without warning, your body convulses with the strength of your climax. “That’s it. Come on my dick.”

You don’t think you’ve ever felt anything quite like the overwhelming pleasure that washes over you in a series of pulsating, neverending waves. The stranger fucks you through it without any alteration in speed, and it’s just as you’re about to squirm away in overstimulation that he finishes with one last, deep thrust inside of you. The sound of his groans are just as melodic and husky as his voice is, sending little afterschocks of arousal up your belly until finally, he pulls out of you with a grunt.

Looking up at the ceiling, you feel the mattress dip beside you as he collapses onto the bed. Usually, this would be the point where the post-nut clarity hits you and you’d begin to regret another series of bad decisions that led you to a stranger's bed. Instead, as you lock eyes with who might possibly be the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen, you only wonder what you did to deserve such good fortune to have met him tonight.

“That was fucking amazing, stranger,” he remarks, putting voice to your own exact thoughts as he rolls over so that he can stroke your cheek idly. You try to hold off the pestering inclination to blink so that you can take in the rosy-cheeked, delicately striking state his orgasm has left him in. 

You thought that after giving you what was surely the best pounding of your life that you’d be less inclined to view him as a total weirdo. Instead, there is something so innocent now about the way he looks at you, as he can’t even believe this happened. Wanting to tease him, you reply, “Good enough for me to learn your name?”

He considers your question with an impish chuckle, and though you’re not at all desperate to know his name, you’re still surprised when he replies, “Will you forgive me if I say something tells me I want to keep you hanging for just a little while longer?”

There is an air of mysteriousness to his words that you pick up on but have trouble interpreting. And while you itch to know what’s going on in that big brain of his, you decide not to question him any further, instead just appreciating the ease and contentment of this moment. 

“You’re the strangest person I’ve ever met,” you tell him candidly, leaning in so that the tip of your noses touch. “But I’m glad I met you tonight.”

You’re not embarrassed at all when you lean in to kiss him, because even though the sex is over, you just want to feel his lips against yours one last time before you go back to being two strangers who will likely never see each other after this. He reciprocates, seemingly ignorant to the idea of kissing someone chastely as he pulls you in and slips his tongue into your mouth.

Nevertheless, when you pull away, you know the moment is over when he says, “Walk of shame out the door together?”

You’re not sad, only content as you turn to him and answer. “Let’s.”

It’s a cozy Thursday morning on your campus as you step outside to meet with your friend, Jaehyun. When you had allowed him to borrow your computations textbook, you had no idea it would lead you to his apartment complex, where he swore he had left the book on accident.

“I promise you, I thought I brought it with me to class, but I must’ve left it in my room,” he explained sheepishly, patting his pockets as he searched for his apartment key. With his straight-cut bangs and habit of forgetfulness, Jaehyun was about the closest thing to a friend that you had since transferring. You went to the same high school together, congregating in the same social circles but ultimately going two separate ways after graduation. 

It wasn’t until your first day at this new school that you sat down for your morning class and discovered that Myeong Jaehyun went here, too. Since that moment of recognition on both of your ends, he’s been your only piece of relative familiarly in a place that still feels new to you.

“Here we are,” mumbled a disgruntled Jaehyun as he finally managed to unlock the door to his apartment. It was your first time seeing the place, and as far as student housing went, you were impressed. The space was populated with nice-enough-looking furniture and boyish decorations that you could tell belonged to Jaehyun and whoever his roommate was.

“I’m gonna go get your textbook from my room. You can wait out here,” said Jaehyun, turning to head into the hallway where the rooms were. You were just about to get comfortable, maybe sit on his couch and chill as he invariably spent ages looking for your textbook, until the noise of a door opening startled you into attention.

“Oh hey,” said Jaehyun casually to a familiar silhouette that appeared into the hallway. “Y/N, this is my roommate, Leehan.”

You fought the urge to laugh out loud as you were met with the image of the stranger who, just a few weeks ago, was drilling his cock into you in some of the most mind-blowing sex of your life. When he first came out and hadn’t noticed you yet, he simply looked curious, as if he was coming out of his room to see what was causing the noise. But now, he barely fights off a smirk as he, too, processes your presence. All of this goes unnoticed by an unsuspecting Jaehyun, who proceeds into his room to rummage for your textbook.

Left alone with the boy who you can now identify as Leehan, you look him up and down, taking in his casual appearance and hair that has only grown longer in the time since you last met. He leans against his doorframe, looking you over with a gaze just as intrusive before saying, “So. Y/N, huh?”

Both of you laugh out loud at the same time, the humor and awkwardness of the situation hitting you all at once. The smile on Leehan’s face forces his eyes into crescent shapes that you faintly acknowledge as endearing. 

“Leehan,” you state with a grin, returning the preceding instance of acknowledging each other’s names. “It suits you. Although, I’m not sure it’s special enough to justify you withholding it.”

He shrugs indifferently at that, looking not even a little embarrassed as he replies jokingly, “What can I say? I prefer an air of anonymity when conducting my one-night stands.”

“Is that what that was?” you quip back with a tilt of your head. You know exactly that that’s what it was, but playing coy about it is how you save yourself from the embarrassment of having to address the weird sexual-tension-mixed-with-awkwardness that lingers between the two of you.

He runs a hand through his hair, maintaining the smile on his face as he shrugs noncommittally and replies, “I don’t know, I was too drunk to remember. In fact, who are you again?”

You both giggle, the atmosphere and banter between the two of you surprisingly easy, even outside the context of being drunk at a house party. You can faintly hear the sounds of Jaehyun’s rummaging becoming louder a few doors away, letting you know he’s no closer to finding your textbook. To your own internal surprise, a tiny part of you is relieved to have the time to see where this interaction with Leehan will go.

“So, you’re friends with Myeong Jaehyun?” he asks, gesturing his head in the direction of his roommate’s door just a few feet away. You notice how he slips his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants and straightens his posture, a move somehow making him look 10x taller.

“It’s a love/hate sort of thing. But yes, I’ve known him since high school.”

The corner of Leehan’s lips switch into a half-smile, something foreboding in his tone as he then says, “Then I guess I should expect to see you much more often, Y/N.”

You raise a questioning eyebrow, and through a confused grin, ask, “Why do you say that so ominously?”

Leehan doesn’t answer at first and instead just maintains his piercing gaze on your face. He’s so strange, but what’s even stranger is that you find yourself attracted to him. Attracted to him and his weirdly crooked smile and habit of staring at people for longer than normal. His shaggy brown hair and pouty lips that you can’t forget were once meshed with yours.

“No reason,” he finally answers, and before you can question such obviously purposeful ambiguity, it’s just then that Jaehyun comes out with your textbook.

“Found your book,” he says, cradling the thick textbook underneath his arm. Looking over at Leehan, whose open-mouthed expression obviously reveals he was in the middle of saying something, he pauses. “You good, Leehan?”

Leehan maintains a passive expression, though the hints of a smirk just barely bleed onto his lips as he gestures his head in your direction. “Yeah, just talking to Y/N.”

Jaehuun exchanges an inquisitive look between the two of you. “You guys know each other?”

Not sure how to answer that question, you look to Leehan for any non-verbal guidance. And funnily enough, he looks to you with the same sort of expecting look, and now you’re staring at each other for longer than normal, fighting back laughter as a confused Jaehyun looks on.

“You could say that,” Leehan replies, nodding his head affirmatively.

part 2 can be found HERE

taglist: @lailols @papichulomacy @0310s

comment or send an ask to be added to the taglist!

[lvlyghost]

Hello do you take requests cause I had this idea in my mind but I suck in writing

how bout a ghost x reader where he had a bad day and takes it out on his beloved reader who he's been in a really long relationship with, by starting an argument and maybe saying some really mean and bad things that break the reader. Like the reader is only a shell of herself and completely ruined by ghosts words and just crying or sitting completely still staring off the wall or just staring at nothing just being numb.

What would be interesting is Simons reaction when he realizes the damage that he's done, maybe he would cry/break down idk when he sees the usually happy reader being so dull and almost lifeless yk

But Pleasee don't do this to our hearts and write some comfort and a happy ending please I couldn't handle too much angst❤️😭

The Weight of the World

PAIRINGS: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

SUMMARY: You promised to always lean on each other but sometimes love isn't enough.

WORD COUNT: 1.5k

TW: heavy angst, literally got some mid anxiety writing this🥴 swearing, self-doubt, hurt-comfort and slight fluff towards the end. lmk if i missed any.

A/N: finished this in one sitting lol, also not proofread and poorly edited, i've been having a shitty week so expect more angst lol. meet me in therapy. Enjoy anon!🤍🌟🫶🏻💕

Masterlist✨

You hesitate right outside Simon's studio, the place where he secludes himself from everything and everyone. Ever since he came from his last mission he seemed to be on the edge constantly. The usual softness that he reserved specifically for you was... absent.

Still you wouldn't let that stop you from approaching; having dating him for a few years now let you know so much of that. You knew when he was hurting. When he was sad, angry, jealous or even happy. Little to no people could say that.

Somehow this was different. He wasn't even letting you in, constantly keeping you at arms length and that hurt. How were you supposed to get to him this time? Get him to talk to you?

To look at you again with that same glint in his eyes, the spark that you ignited in him and that won't fade away even years after.

The sound of a chair creaking startles you, the same time the timer in the kitchen goes off. You walk back, turning the oven off, and sticking out the apple pie you so happily baked for both with hopes that you'll get him loosen a bit that dark cloud that's been looming over Simon these past few days.

The door of his studio is yanked open the heavy stomp of his boots resonating across the small apartment you two share, then his bulky frame appears just to grab the keys to his black motorcycle.

"Simon!" You call him, burning your hand in the process. He stills halfway through the living room, waiting for you to say something else. Wetting a cloth hurriedly and wrapping it around the burnt skin.

"I made something for us... maybe," standing behind him you leave a reasonable space between the two. You swallow down hard. "Thought we could have it together and just, you know spend...-"

"I don't have time for that now." His voice is cold and monotone. "Don't wait for me."

"But Si-" he turns on his heels, eyes hard and unyielding. He approaches slowly, making you gulp. "What's gotten into you, Simon?" You fight back the tears, this was the man you loved so dearly, the man you knew loved you back; there was a reason for the golden engagement ring on your left hand. "I..-"

"Fucking hell would you stop that? Please just..." he notices the wetness in your eyes. "I can't do this. Not anymore."

"Whatever it is I promise we can work it out together!" your lips quivered. "Just talk to me!"

"I don't need to talk about anything girl!" He seethes, one finger pointing at you. "Think some cheap counseling with you will make things right? Bloody hell no. Neither some homemade bread, this isn't fucking working and it won't until you learn how the bloody world works."

It breaks your heart into a tiny million pieces, breathing becomes a challenge and the injury in your hand can no longer be felt. Simon's words were worse than any physical pain. Where was the man you loved? The man who used to lift you up and kiss you on the forehead? The man whose hands couldn't stop roaming your body late at night? The man who'd helped you reach out for things he probably put away in the highest shelf so you'd ask for help. That same man that had proposed to you no long ago, right before he was deployed to a special op God knows where. The fabric of his mask moves when he keeps talking but you don't listen. You can't. Just like you can't stop the tears dribbling down your cheeks and the tremble of your hands. Simon's jaw clenched, brows furrowed as he takes a step back and leaves.

You walk sluggishly to where the dessert awaits. It's when your knees buckle that you finally let out a loud cry.

-

Simon knows he isn't a good man. He's done quite questionable things that he could never say out loud. He knows he's fucked in so many ways. But he also knows that there's one thing that kept him from spiraling further down into an abyss of death and self-loathing.

You.

The woman he decided he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. The girl that didn't care about his past, the bad moments and his complicated persona. You who would selflessly love him without asking for something in return. What had you seen in him in first place? Even now after three years he can't wrap his head around the fact that he has someone who waits for him.

Simon knows how much he loves you, but what he doesn't know is how—or in what earth—he deserves every part of you.

You've been avoiding him ever since that horrible night. Words he can't take back. Looks that haunt him every time he closed his eyes. He hears you cry when you go to sleep or when you're taking a shower. Muffled sobs and wails that will come for him until the day he dies.

You avoid him like a plague, when he walks in. After all he's the one to blame. He wanted to ask you to tear him apart maybe that'd feel less painful.

The last remaining of sanity that was left in him came crashing down when he began to notice how you stared off in a haze, numbly looking at the window. He was losing you. Destroyed the one good thing he had. So, a few days later, despite his own demons. Despite the things that broke him all irreparably during the last mission in Moscow, he comes to find you. Sucking in a sharp breath as his eyes set on your left hand.

The engagement ring was gone, forgotten someplace unknown. Simon felt the panic wrenching his guts.

It's all on him.

He whispers your name, calls you softly. Slowly sitting in front of you, the coffee table creaks under his weight. Words get caught in his throat.

"May I take your hand?" He pleads, not getting an answer. Simon sighs, lowering his head as silent reigns yet again. "I don't deserve you." He murmurs, eyes bored into the floor. "I... I ruin everything I touch. Just never thought I'd ruin my girl."

Your eyes flutter shut, wet tears clinging to your eyelashes. Simon watches as you stand and leave without a word, he follows close behind to your shared room.

"Love..."

"Don't call me that!" the hurt in your voice... the resentment in your eyes, he's earned it.

Simon reaches out for your arm, grabbing you firmly but gently, mindful not to harm you.

"Right I deserve that." If there's one thing Simon regrets it's being the reason that your eyes no longer shine. "What I said... what happened I...-"

Shaking your head and biting down your lip.

"You never gave me the chance, I thought we said we'd always find a way."

"I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry baby." in an instant he's pulling you close, although you want to push him away, scream at him, slap him for the calvary he made you go through. "I'm not good with words, and I'm no good person." You feel his body shaking with anxiety as your eyes widen in shock. "I tried... I can't forgive myself for my mistakes."

"Simon..." he hushed you, cradling your head with his big hand. "I can't sleep knowing I can't protect you from what's out there, couldn't bloody protect that kid in Moscow, or my family."

You guide him to the bed, sitting down side by side and holding onto each other.

"Said I would always be with you Simon, why the hell did you push me away?! Have I not given my everything to you? We promised to always make it work!" He grabs your face staring intently into your eyes. "What happened there?"

He blinks, deciding how much to say. There was no need for you to know the entirety of it. He wanted to shield you from the horrors of this world, and he would as long as he lived.

"A young lad whose life's was cut short because I wasn't there on time. How can I come back to you, be happy when someone else just lost their kid..."

"That wasn't on you! Simon Riley you stop that now." He inhales, cinnamon and vanilla flooding his senses. It's you all of you. "Stop carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. We do that together, yeah?" Your chest hurts from how hard it's beating. "You've done far so much. You won't lose me."

A rumble in the sky and cars passing by outside your home is all you hear. Brown eyes like honey stare back into your soul.

"You took it off..."

"I burnt my hand, it wasn't healing properly. And you know what?" He quirks a brow. "It wasn't homemade bread. It was an apple pie, you silly."

"You'll never forgive me for that one won't you?" He doesn't chuckle but the air feels lighter.

"No. Probably won't." Simon takes your burnt hand bringing it to his lips, they're soft against the marred skin.

"But we're still getting married, yeah?" He asks.

You smile fondly, humming when he kisses your forehead, tears have now dried.

"Yeah. We're still getting married."

[nayedoll]

Best Friends

joost klein x reader

description: you have always considered joost to be your best friend, oblivious to his feelings for you. after three years of quiet yearning, joost finally finds hope after you break up with your boyfriend, letting your true feelings for him come to light.

cw : fluff, friends to lovers, angstyyyy

word count : 2.6k

rpf ahead, do not read if uncomfortable !!!

───────────────────────

2019, at some song festival in Amsterdam; that was the first time you and Joost met.

Joost was sitting somewhere on the festival grounds, chatting with his equally drunk friends over the loud music. His eyes scanned the venue, littered with small lights as he sensed the electric atmosphere of the crowd surrounding him.

Then, his gaze settled on you approaching from afar, Alanis’ hand in yours so as to not get lost amongst all the people around you. Joost smiled as Alanis introduced you to the rest, saying that you were her friend who had just moved to the country.

Everything about you was perfect. Your hair was blowing in the gentle breeze as the colorful lights from the main stage highlighted your face, the shy smile on your lips becoming all the more apparent. You were wearing a short red dress that contrasted beautifully with the black outfits of everyone else and an oversized jacket on top that matched the material of Joost’s own jacket.

You instinctively sat down next to Joost whose friendly smile helped soothe your nerves. You couldn’t quite explain it but he radiated a sense of comfort and warmth that made you want to stick closer to him, despite having just met him. Maybe it was his dazzling smile or the entrancing blue color of his eyes or maybe it was just him in general. The way he softly spoke to you as if he had known you since forever, the awkward giggles that escaped his lips in between telling silly jokes, making you laugh along with him. You liked him.

It didn’t take long for you and Joost to become friends -best friends to be exact- as you quickly found a place in the friend group.

Joost felt so lucky, so blessed that you had stumbled into his life, slowly falling in love with you all the more with each passing day. You felt a certain way about him too, though you dismissed it as nothing. Platonic is what you called it in an attempt to mask your true feelings that you couldn’t act upon. Something else that was holding you back.

That something, Joost found out about shortly after.

You had both attended a friend’s house party, initially as a big group but got separated as the night progressed, in the various rooms of the house.

At some point, Joost was looking for you amidst all the drunk people that reeked of alcohol and cigarettes. He was planning on telling you how he felt for some time now and the handful shots of vodka he had previously taken, gave him the last bit of courage he needed.

A friend of his stopped him midway, making small talk as Joost looked around impatiently in hopes of catching a glimpse of you.

His eyes scanned the place some more before he finally found you but you weren’t looking at him. Instead you were on top of someone else with your lips hungrily pressed against his.

Joost felt heavy and the noise around him seemed to stop.

“Dude, you alright?” his friend asked, partly bringing him back to reality.

“Who is that?” Joost simply said with his eyes still glued on you as he nodded to your direction.

“Who?” his friend yelled looking back to you, “Oh him? That’s Y/n’s boyfriend,” he explained, “They’ve been together for some time, I think. He’s partly the reason she moved here,”

Joost nodded nonchalantly in contrast to the chaos that was his mind at that moment. His friend went on to talk about something else but all he could hear was the sound of the word boyfriend replaying in his head. Boyfriend? He should have expected it. To you, he was nothing more than a best friend.

He spent the next hour, alone on the balcony, smoking every cigarette in his pack, down to the last. lHe was hurt and confused, trying to understand why you hadn’t told him about your boyfriend. To be fair, you had given him a reason to think that there was something more there.

However, all of his bad feelings quickly subsided when you came out to the balcony, also alone, smiling brightly at the sight of him. You sat down next to him in excitement, relatively drunk as you rumbled about the party. Joost didn’t mention anything about what he had seen earlier. He only listened to you with a loving smile like he always did. He would wait for you.

—

Three years have passed since then.

Things slightly changed in your life as you slowly adapted to your new lifestyle in Amsterdam and realized many things. For one, you recognized how different you and your boyfriend, Adam, really were as he began showing his true self.

It was only recently that you broke up with him as your relationship had become a pile of screaming matches and his unreasonable jealous outbursts. You had tried really hard to ignore all the problems, get past them since the beginning but truly, you were growing more impatient with him by the day as his behavior became more toxic and something you couldn’t just push to the side anymore.

The final straw was when Adam asked you -practically demanded- to stop seeing Joost because according to him, men and women can’t be friends. A series of heated arguments followed at the end of which you briefly ended things with him and left his house without a second thought.

He tried to reach out multiple times but you didn’t budge, making your decision clear. In complete honesty, it wasn’t easy at first. Despite everything, you had been with him for quite some time and getting used to being alone was a struggle. But as time passed, only then did you look back on your relationship and realize just how toxic it was.

Ironically enough, Joost was there for you since the beginning. When he was with you, all the stress and loneliness you were feeling disappeared as he always came up with a way to lift your spirits.

You had been best friends for long enough but really, something felt different now. It almost felt like you were getting to know him again, truly appreciating how caring and loving he was. While you were with Adam, you could never get too close or too intimate with Joost. But lately, it seemed like all you needed, wanted was to be with him, just the two of you, enjoying each other’s company.

You had been spending the day at his place and vice versa, doing whatever, be it talking, watching movies or cooking -though you were the one doing the actual cooking while he entertained you.

Today was one of those days again. Joost had invited you over to show you some of the songs on his upcoming album and you had agreed, excited that you would see him again and also get to see his work.

Joost opened the door and entered his apartment, grocery bags still in hand. He had left you alone briefly to get some beers and food since you had spontaneously decided to spend the night at his place.

He placed the beers atop the kitchen counter, while humming one of his songs but paused briefly, confused by the silence of the house. Normally, you would have already come into the kitchen, talking his ear off about whatever topic you were most interested in at that time. You would always apologize afterwards for talking so much but Joost didn’t mind, he liked hearing your voice, seeing you get so passionate about something.

“Y/n?” He yelled out, expecting a response from the living room where he had last left you in but the silence continued.

“Earth to Y/n,” he said in a deeper voice, cupping his hands around his mouth as he walked through the house.

He came into the living room and it didn’t take long to spot you, passed out on the couch. You were sleeping soundly with Joost’s chunky headphones slowly sliding off your head.

Joost smiled softly at the sight, then tip toed over to the couch and sat down next to you, his body sinking into the plush mattress of the sofa. One of his songs was playing from the headphones in a muffled sound which earned a small laugh from him. How could you have possibly fallen asleep during any of his songs?

He removed the headphones carefully, pausing the music on the phone that was also slipping from your hand. His eyes lingered on your face.

Your lips were slightly parted with a hint of lip gloss on them as soft sighs escaped your mouth. Your hair delicately fell on your face that was slowly sinking into the couch pillows on your side.

Joost sighed, a bittersweet feeling coming over him. He loved you so much. From that moment at the festival until now, you were still so beautiful, both in appearance and in character. Back then at that party, he had lost all hope when he saw you kissing Adam. He had never liked him, or the way he treated you. But now that you had finally broken up with him, that hope was rekindled.

He brushed the hair out of your face, resting his hand lightly against your cheek just for a moment longer, caressing it with his thumb.

The sensation caused you to wake up, your eyes opening ever so slightly as you rubbed them with your hands. You purred, instinctively leaning into his touch as you looked up at him, your vision still blurry.

“Hey,” you smiled, recognizing the person in front of you to be Joost. The sun rays coming through the window casted a warm glow on his face and gave his blonde hair a golden hue.

“Good morning,” Joost grinned, then furrowed his brows, “Oh wait, it’s 7 pm,” he teased, you lightly slapped him on his shoulder and scoffed.

“Very funny,” you said in a mocking tone and rolled your eyes.

You stared at each other in silence as a sudden heat spread across your face and you held your breath. His blue eyes screamed of desperation, the need to say something and you sensed a hesitation in him that you had never seen before.

You blinked rapidly and pulled away from his touch. Joost quickly withdrew his hand that was on your cheek, clearing his throat amidst the awkward silence.

“Did you get any beers?” you asked in an attempt to restore the comfort that previously filled the air as you shifted in your seat.

“Uh- yes, yes I did,” Joost breathed, giving you a strained smile, “Got your favorite ones actually,”

A small smile formed on your lips.

“No way,” you exclaimed, “Heineken?”. Joost gave you a soft nod.

“You know me so well, Joost.”

And he did. All those years and he still remembered the smallest of things about you when your ex didn’t even know what your favorite color was. Probably another reason why you broke up with him, you guessed.

“Eh it’s nothing,” Joost said bashfully, looking away from you, God he was so adorable when he got flustered.

“No, really,” A hint of seriousness took over your voice, “You know me better than I even know myself at times,” you said, letting out a small laugh at the cheesiness of your words but what you were saying was true.

Joost’s smile widened, his dimples sticking out all the more.

“And…” your voice trailed off as you tried to process your thoughts, “Thank you for always being there for me. You’ve treated me even better than my goddamn boyfriend,” It felt like you were drunk, the words spilling out of you quickly. You had so many things to say to him, all of which you didn’t even know you had hidden in you. “Ex boyfriend,” you corrected yourself in a firm voice.

Joost felt his pulse quicken, fighting the urge to kiss you right then and there.

“He was an asshole anyways,” he said bluntly causing you to laugh.

“Yeah he was,” you sighed, “Maybe I should have dated you instead!”.

You stayed silent, taking in the gravity of your words. Deep down you weren’t joking when you said that. Truthfully, the thought had crossed your mind before but you always discarded it and felt guilty afterwards.

You noticed Joost being abnormally quiet as well and glanced at him, distinguishing a sadness in his eyes.

“What is it?” You asked, your gaze immediately shifting to worried.

Joost swallowed hard, averting his eyes from you. If only you knew.

“Nothing,” he mumbled, anxiously running his hand through his hair. You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Are you sure?” You shifted closer to him, your voice soft but layered with concern. He only hummed in response, looking down at his tattoos as his fingers grazed his bare arm.

“Hey,” you said, gently wrapping your arm around him, “You can tell me anything, you know?” You sensed just how tense he was and a wave of guilt overcame you. Why wasn’t he telling you? Was he mad at you for something? He did seem a little off ever since you broke up with Adam but you brushed it off, thinking of it as work stress from preparing his album.

“Joost?” you pressed and caressed his hair. That made him turn to look at you as you realized the increased proximity between you and him, feeling his breath hot against your skin.

Then, Joost took one quick glance at your lips and he leaned in.

You didn’t pull back. Something felt right about this, the way his soft lips touched yours with a kind of passion you’d never experienced before. He pulled your face closer and deepened the kiss as you made a soft sound against his lips.

So many thoughts were racing in your mind. That same feeling overtook you, the one from that night when you first met Joost and had been trying to suppress for so long; he was never just your best friend and only now did you have the courage to admit it to yourself.

Once his lips were apart from yours, the only sound that filled the room was the heavy breathing coming from both of you. You looked at him, your arms lightly wrapped around his neck. He smiled sweetly and you did too as you stared in each other’s eyes like two kids in love.

“I’ve wanted to do this for so fucking long,” he muttered, gently running his hands up and down the sides of your stomach, “I love you, Y/n.”

You inhaled deeply, your guilt returning as you thought about how oblivious you had been all this time. How long had he been keeping this to himself?

“I’m sorry,” you breathed. Joost raised an eyebrow, laughing softly.

“You’re saying sorry after I said I love you? Damn.” He said, sounding slightly offended.

“No!” You chuckled. “I’m sorry because I acted like a fool. I shied away from my feelings and I didn’t realize sooner that you felt this way about me and I should have realized sooner and-”

“Alright, alright,” Joost cut you off in his usual reassuring tone. You exhaled a long sigh as he placed both hands on your shoulders to comfort you. “Calm down, lieverd” he smiled. Even now, he was still so willing to make you feel better when he should be upset with you or at the very least, pretend to be it.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that I love you too.” You said, watching as a proud smile grew on Joost’s lips.

“Took you long enough,” he teased.

“Hey!” You slapped him on his arm, he mouthed sorry repeatedly before pulling you in for another kiss. This time, it felt sweeter, more controlled as you both now shared the feeling of contentment in your heart.

You broke the kiss and drew back from him shortly.

“So when are we drinking the beers?” you asked jokingly, your hands tracing to his belt.

Joost smiled, grabbing your waist to bring you closer to him.

“That can wait.”

[hatosaur]

it's pretty implied that ellie never came out to joel in the proper sense. she lets him assume that she's into men, gives him the false satisfaction of "seeing" her "crush" on jesse, does not correct him. she's fairly confident in being gay in public for others to see and having others close to her know; so why not correct him? why dodge the topic?

was it out of fear? could it be that she never broached the topic despite being close to him in the early years because of the possibility of his reaction being negative? that she was afraid that out of all things that could force them apart (further apart after they split), him reacting badly to her being gay would be the worst?

what about at the dance? would she have been as wound up as she was if the moment hadn't been an encounter with a vicious homophobe? maybe she would've still snapped without this context, but why is she immediately on the defensive against joel after he sticks up for her?

what about the porch scene? why did she refute his question of dina being her girlfriend so insecurely, looking away, nervously and quietly stumbling over words? why isn't she mean about it? why doesn't she get defensive at the question? why did she lash out again when he expressed acceptance?

i think these scenes revolving around her queerness indicate it as such; that ellie never told joel for fear of a response, that she lets him think what he wants because that's the easiest way for it to be. then, when she's ready to face off against a homophobe, because that's the way things are, that's what she can expect, and joel defends her, she lashes out.

it's such a clear juxtaposition of support and hatred between joel and seth, and being faced with joel's acceptance is too much, makes her turn to the anger she'd been holding onto and reinforce what she thinks is true -- that she doesn't need him. and in the fallout, as her regret dawns on her, so too does the realization; he was protecting her, like always, without hesitation, over this thing she was always afraid he wouldn't accept her for.

in the porch scene, joel chooses his words wisely, and asks if dina is her girlfriend -- not "so you're gay?" or "why did you never tell me?" or "how long has this been a thing?" -- with such a casuality that it seems to throw her off. it's like ellie can hardly get the words out. she refutes the idea, fumbles for each following part of her response, is tense. she wasn't prepared for the question.

and when he finally asserts his support for her, in as explicit terms as he can, you can see ellie become emotional, touched for a moment but overcome, before she launches into the defensive again, exactly like at the dance scene -- meeting his kindness with hostility as a way to cope with her emotions.

and then, in response to her basically saying her life doesn't matter, he affirms that it does.

so he's now affirmed two things that ellie has doubted: that he accepts her being a lesbian, and that her life matters. a conflation of the two, in ellie's mind, may have come after; and after that, her olive branch.

and yeah, him affirming these things for her is fully in the context of his overwhelming parental love for her and her complex feelings about being the cure, but within a queer subtext, it means more. it's such a familiar thing to slink around loved ones and hide being gay/queer for fear of any type of response, and lying by omission in conversation just to keep that state of peace, of normalcy. ellie, with all her brutishness and bravery, falls into it like anyone else, because even while mad at him, she valued that response from him.

a lot of people seem to think that the approach to ellie's queerness is nonchalant, that it's just some unrelated thing about her, but i think that it holds more weight in the narrative that what is explicitly spelled out. it's subtle but it was a deliberate choice to place her queerness at the center of the confrontation. i think that's why ellie's relationship with dina took center stage in the story, and why so much time is devoted to just them -- because her being queer matters to her character, but in a way that perhaps only a queer person can see, analyze, and appreciate (without being blatant enough to anger certain other fans).

[thekeeperof-thefandoms]

How they react to finding out you're an animal lover

Based on the actual Zoo's worth of pets, I acquired.

Let's assume somehow there's a scenario where the Hazbin Characters are able to see your life on earth, to review what might have gotten you sent to Hell. As far as most of them were concerned, you may have been chaotic, maybe you jumped to violence quickly (it's Hell though so defending yourself is important), maybe you drank or used drugs or slept around, but not to an extent that would warrant Hell.

And it's not that you aren't capable of being friendly or nice, but you're always wary of new people. You seem uncomfortable in large groups and tend to stick to people you know and unfortunately have Resting Bitch Face, so aren't very approachable.

So imagine their reaction to seeing your life and noticing from a young age your obsession with animals. You watched Animal Cops instead of Cartoons as a kid (and boy, your little brain sure got creative when imagining how best to punish [torture] animal abusers. Even Alastor's impressed by the level of violence). You begged and cried for a pet your whole childhood and did your best with the fish you got or the guinea pigs, though poor misinformation from adults and lack of proper husbandry being available in easily accessible media meant that your setups were....lackluster. And boy did you literally sob over that as an adult.

Every animal you met, horse, snake, cat, dog, rabbit, rodent, lizzard, frog, fish, they were all met with the brightest smile, a gentle cooing voice, happy baby talk, you getting on their level to coddle and and pet. The total opposite of your response to people.

Alastor

He's never been a big fan of dogs, especially after his death. But watching you with the numerous dogs you owned, the bond you shared with them, how they weren't perfectly trained but you tried so hard, and they all lived such long happy lives, he thinks he would have tolerated it. Especially your first dog, a small yappy thing that was wonderfully trained to do many tricks using just hand signals. Watching you shut down, breaking into billions of pieces when that dog died is probably the closest his smile has come to dropping.

Cats though, Alastor adored cats and you, despite being allergic, took in every feline in need. Even ones with health issues. You shelled out your hard earned cash left and right and the once ratty, crusty, scrawny, timid, strays blossomed into sleek, healthy, playful cats. He's going to laugh at all the curse words that arise from the various shenanigans that come with owning cats though.

As for your snakes, he's not phased. He isn't particularly fond of them, but he isn't scared either. But he could listen to you gush for hours about genetics, morphs, breeding, and proper set ups. He liked your bearded dragon though. Would get one for you if he could.

His favorite though was your rats. The quartet of rodents that were as smart as human toddlers and as likely to get in trouble. Watching you build and construct cardboard play structures, teach them tricks, feed them all sorts of fruits, veggies, meat, grains, insects. The constant cleaning and remodeling of their cage to entertain them. Oh you clearly adored them. Especially since they lived longer than their average 4 year expectancy by a whole year, with the exception of one rat that had been born ill but he still lived to by nearly 3!

All in all he just thinks you're precious, is amused by your entirely sincere and intensely violent response to abusers, and admires your caring nature and dedication (it reminds him of his ma, working hard to shell out every penny to ensure he thrived). He's probably considering getting you a pet.

Charlie

Heart eyes! You're so soft and cuddly with your pets! So patient with them, even when they're still adjusting, scared and prone to biting. You take every bite, scratch, hiss, growl, and in cases like snakes and turtles musking, in stride. Sure you flinch but your tone stays calm, you relax quickly, adjust your approach.

The way your eyes water and light up when the black cat with a stiff limp and crusted eyes, and swollen cheeks finally approaches you instead of hiding behind the water heater in your basement after you managed to trap it in indoors melts her heart. The way you have to visibly control yourself when you pet it for the first time and then finally lift him into your arms to take upstairs where the heat works and you aren't relying on a space heater and old blankets to warm him.

She's not thrilled about your violent tendencies, but they also remind her of Vaggie. Your protective and have strong feelings about injustice and she admires that.

She's definitely asking you to watch Kiki more often.

Angel Dust

Another proud pet parent! He gets you. Animals are so much easier than people. He loves watching you dress your pets that would tolerate it and take them to get pictures done, sending them to family members like you would send pictures of your kids. And hey, they essentially are! He's gonna ask you to dress up Fat Nuggets with him and do a photo shoot!

He's not a fan of rodents, but you're rats, and the hamsters were cute. He thinks he'd be ok with them if he met them, may even enjoy them.

Really liked watching your fish tank though once you got older and had more understanding and were able to set up a proper one. Even when things went wrong like algae blooms, fish fighting, your $35 betta beaching itself on your crabs basking platform, you were determined, and eventually you get a nice little live planted tank going that's mostly self sufficient and some fish that breed. You never quite mastered the algae issue, but it never overran your tank again, so he considers it a win. It's just cute watching you try so hard and dedicate so much time too it.

Lucifer

You're literally his spirit animal. He would rather be around animals than people, too. And honestly, you're right, animal abusers are the worst and he's probably taking notes from you on fitting punishments. He is trying to be more active as a ruler of Hell now.

He thinks you're incredibly smart for learning and memorizing so much about animals at such a young age and that you learn more as you get older, keeping up with proper care techniques. Kinda shocked you didn't become a vet, but also gets it. He doesn’t think he could handle having to let an animal down either. Or deal with stupid owners.

Gets heart eyes when he sees your obsession with snakes and is genuinely sad for you when your small collection of them dies off. Reptiles are hard, even professional keepers can have snakes die for seemingly no reason, so it's not anything you did, but it still sucks that within a 16 months you lost both your corn snakes and then a 8 or 9 months later your ball python.

He's the Serpent of Eden so anytime you had a snake draped around her neck, coiled around your wrist or arm, anytime they slithered under your shirt or up your pant leg while holding them is giving him inappropriate ideas. If you're someone with sensory stim needs and you loved the feeling of snake scales on your skin he'll offer to be one for a while (he's gonna go in your shirt and probably just coil around your waist or your chest, maybe rest his head on your shoulder peeking out of your shirt, blepping).

He's also sad that you can't see your beloved pets now since you're in Hell and it makes him even more bitter towards Heaven. Your beloved pets deserved to be reunited with an owner who gave them everything they could and you deserved to see the furry little wonders that got you through your darkest times. He can't imagine how much pain you were in when you realized you wouldn't see them again.

Is determined to get you a pet and find a way to reunite you with yours.

Husk

Was never big on pets before, but he thinks yours are cute. He may let you pet his ears more often now and be more comfortable purring around you. If it helps you feel better since it's obvious you miss your little furballs.

The entire time they're watching your life play out your eyes are glued to your pets, eyes misty, and smile adoring. It's more of a highlights reel so you're constantly babbling over it telling story after story. You mention how pissed you were tattoos didn't show up when you died because you had every pet you ever owned's (with the exception of ones you had really young), pawprint tatted on you when you died, staring with the rat tail and feet at your ankle and the top of your foot all the way up your leg, hip, side, so many of them it looked like a zoo walked across your body.

He misses having that kind of enthusiasm and devotion to something and admires you for being able to so deeply love and care for your pets despite what you've been through.

He maybe feels a little inspired himself to open up a bit more.

Vox

He grew up when a wife, two kids, a dog, and a white pickett fence was a standard, but you go beyond that. Animal care has gotten so much more detailed since he was alive. Aside from his sharks, especially Vark, he doesn’t really know much about pets, though.

He loves your commitment to trying to keep a fish tank, but he is going to critique you. He probably will get you one and help you set it up, a nice, moderately sized 50 gallon. It's something you two can bond over.

Watching you step between two dogs about to get into a fight because their owners were drinking at the dog park and didn't pay attention nearly gives him a stroke though. But you effortlessly snag an 80 pound mutt and lift them up and pivot, using your arms and legs to corral that dog back towards the fence and keep yourself between them while someone else snags the other dog. Once both dogs can't see each other anymore and you have effectively redirected their attention to the treats you brought, using a stern, sharp voice to direct it to sit, the dogs settle. He can visibly see you seething as the guy gets up, uncaring, and leashes his dog to leave the park.

Also thinks it adorable when watches you pull over and dart across a highway to get a turtle out of the road. Or to get a baby bird out of the street once it's been pushed from the nest. Watches you circle back to watch dogs you see wandering the neighborhood to see if they're lost. You approaching gently and sweetly, not even remotely upset when they startle and you nearly get bit. You apologized to the dog for spooking it.

Really, he just thinks you're cute and have no self-preservation and doesn't think a dog or cat would do well in the tower, but lizzards and fish are ok, and you two bond over the fish tank.

Valentino

So if that whole thing about him getting one of the little insect dogs and then shooting it within a day thing is still canon, he's probably lowkey afraid for his life right now. There's just something about watching an year old version of you say you might wanna be an animal cop so you can shoot bad people with such a serious face. Listening to teenage you threaten two boys who had joked about pouring chemicals on a cat with jamming an anti-freeze bottle down their throats and water board them with it. Or offer to toss puppy mill breeders in a cage too small, no ac, no heat, no food, no water, naked and in their own filth while walk by them every day. He can't even repeat the threats you made against dog fighters or cock fighters. He's pretty sure Satan, prince of Wrath himself, is scared of you. How does a 13 year old come up with shit that twisted?! Like maybe you're in Hell for a reason you fucking psycho.

But! Assuming that's not true, I think Valentino wants to be a cat person. He thinks they're elegant and fashionable. But watching yours he realizes if you're lucky they're snuggly, mischievous, trouble makers who even without trying can and will fuck shit up. If you're not lucky, their terrorists that get into everything, bite you for attention then run off when you pet them, get hair everywhere, are literally so fucking messy, and somehow are both incredibly smart and incredibly stupid. Like smart enough to open doors and drawers and plastic treat containers, dumb enough to run into a window or jump in the dryer.

Honestly, he is shocked to learn that he's a snake/rodent kinda guy. Literally, the snakes are so pretty, have such smooth textures, and yeah, they can be derpy, but he thinks they're kinda hot. Like the image of you, the four-foot ball python draped around your neck and chest. Or some of your bigger five and six foot snakes. He likes the idea of maybe doing like a naked photo shoot with the snake wrapped around you. (HE AND LUCIFER SHOULD NOT SHARE KINKS BUT HERE WE ARE).

Personality wise, hyper, gets into things he shouldn't, bored easily, needs attention or gets depressed and stressed, too smart for his own good but too dumb to get himself out of trouble. This man is a rat/ferret. Whatever irony made him a moth demon is dumb. He would have adored the little fuckers. Maybe not by himself, he doesn’t have the time or attention span to dedicate to them alone, but with your help caring for them and playing with them, he'd be great.

In general I don't think Val is the kinda of person who would get a pet for himself or should have one, but if you're helping and it makes you happy he'll do it. He got Angel one after all.

[randomestdweller]

Hi Denim! I love ur post! Can u write yandere Zhongli alphabet using letter B, L, P, and Y?? Thank u

A/N: Hi Anon! This is lowkey perfect cuz I have a Sugar Daddy Zhongli fic in the works! Zhongli is just so sexy bruh.

Zhongli Yandere Alphabet B, L, P, and Y.

Warnings: Dub con if you reaaaally squint, mentions of kidnapping.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

Zhongli is literally the Geo Archon. Which means he won the archon war, which also means he’s killed multiple Gods.

What’s a human or two? Or three… or four…?

Zhongli DOES care about the Liyue and its People after all, he spent thousands of years protecting it. But his love for his darling is on a deeper level than that.

He wants you to be happy always, so if someone is harming you in any way, Zhongli will get rid of them.

Even if they weren’t really even hurting you greatly. Maybe someone just bumped into you but didn’t apologize or stick around to help you up. Zhongli will make mental image of their face and what direction they went in so they may be dealt with after he is done spending time with you.

Love Letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

Two scenarios! One of his darling returning his affection and one of the darling not.

If his darling returns his feelings he will treat you like a true queen. Zhongli knows a lot about human relationships and how to broach them, even though he has never had one himself, so affection is not lost on him.

Zhongli will make your dreams come true. A lot of partners promise to give their love the stars but Zhongli can actually make that happen. He only wants to see you at your happiness so whatever brings a smile to your face, he will do.

Now, if darling doesn’t return his feelings.. Zhongli will definitely be confused! What’s there not to love about him? He works, likes tea, he’s Morax (even if you don’t know it). So why are you rejecting him?

It’s fine though. If Zhongli is determined to have you he will, so honestly, it’s best if you go willing. Zhongli is not a mean deity, he wants you to be happy, but he knows your happiness will eventually be with him.

If he isolates you from everyone and everything you love, you’ll soon come to crave his presence, his love, his intimacy.

Even if you don’t want it at first, Zhongli will be gentle. He’ll be patient, that’s what 6000 years does to someone like him. A 1000 years ago he might’ve been rough and broken you, but not now. Zhongli will teach you everything. How to be happy around him and how to please him. Those are things simply taught. Of course you’ll mess up, you’re just a human, you’re not as capable as him or his Yaksha, but he’ll be there to guide you. If soft instruction doesn’t work, he might have to become harsher, just give in to him. It’ll be much easier that way.

Oh yeah, you won’t be human much longer anyway. How can you both remain together forever if you are? Oh don’t cry, this is good! He can finally take your lessons up a notch. Zhongli is patient but, he can only hold back his draconic instincts for so long, and he has been more then indulgent with you.

Patient: How patient are they with their darling?

As I said before, Zhongli is really patient. He doesn’t rush or force you into sex… often. He also doesn’t expect you to be perfect, you are human, and because of that you are naturally flawed.

Zhongli will teach you everything. He expects you to do this, this, and this, like this, at this time type of training.

You'll start to wake up when his does, your body will start to call out to him whether you want it to or not.

Zhongli is patient, or he likes to believe himself to be. But he’s still a dragon. He’s primal, he’s rough, he’s territorial. Its all his nature too, so don’t hold it against him if he takes what he wants from you after all while. So try not to deny him for too long. Just as you have your nature, he has his.

Yearn: how long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

I feel like I already addressed this so I’ll kinda reiterate.

Zhongli will hold off for WHILE as long as you don’t reject him. Take as long as you like to confess you feelings, time is of no essence to Zhongli. But If you say no his advances, all bets are off the table, he won’t wait to kidnap you from your life.

You’d think he planned it with how fast he snatched you up. And maybe, it was. Maybe he anticipated your response and planned accordingly.

Zhongli wasn’t a fool, he could tell if you didn’t like him romantically but it was nice to pretend while it lasted. Too bad you’ve ruined and had to be taken. You could have continued to live your life, the unwilling wife of Morax.

[shrimplymoray]

This post is me madly projecting with some x reader stuff. Not requested, I had the idea and my besties said "YES DO IT" so this is happening now lmao.

This has been on my drafts for a looooong time, so that's why I'm actually posting this now lmao.

Octavinelle Trio x Reader who is autistic with a special interest in Moray Eels

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul first laid eyes on you for purely business reasons. During the holiday season, the Mostro Lounge stays understaffed most times, and you were oh so kindly falling into his flourished word traps to strike a deal.

He, however, would have never expected all you wanted from him was to know all about Moray Eels that he, as a merfolk, knew. That was... rather odd and maybe even boring?

He got intrigued, were you trying something with the twins? They were his most loyal workers, so he couldn't allow you to do anything.

When you get into a relationship, after much hard work on both parts, he expected, no, hoped you would change this special interest from the slimy eels to the much more interesting octopus.

You... didn't quite catch the hints, though, and this has led to some rather jealous and insecure moments with Azul. Especially if the twins were involved.

One could say that he was so insecure, in fact, that he felt ashamed of even showing his octomerman form to you.

But after you realized all this jealousy and insecurity on his part, you did all you could to show how much you love him and appreciate him for the way he is.

Now your eel-filled room has a little octopus cove, full of things that remind you of Azul or that he enjoys so that he has a safe space to come to.

He still will glare at your Eel stuff when cuddling, almost as if the carnivores were real and trying to get a bite out of you.

"I suppose it wouldn't be bad to stay a bit in here, with you, if you promise me you won't be cuddling those slimy eels to sleep, but rather this much more elegant and cuddly octopus plushie..."

Floyd Leech

Floyd first approached you on a whim. He was bored, you looked interesting enough, and you didn't seem to have any sense of self to run away from him in fear of getting squeezed till you popped, and as such, he stuck for a while.

You were quite different from most people he knew, and sometimes you reminded him a bit of himself or Jade, which gave you some points on his side.

The thing that made him stay, though, was the moment you opened your mouth and asked him if he ever saw a Moray Eel.

You're really asking that? To him? A literal Eel-merman? Hah!

He did indulge you for a while because you actually seemed to know your facts. He would just push you around, sometimes carry you on his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, while you blabbered out.

When it came to you two dating, it was very much a surprise for everyone. Floyd? Sticking to someone for so long? That's new.

Floyd tends to cling to you a lot, and even though it gets boring to him real quick that you repeat your eel facts, he cannot for the life of him stop you, since when you ramble is the best time to cuddle.

Floyd will, though, get easily jealous of your eel collection. You have the real eel deal (ha!), and you keep cuddling the plushies? Meanie :(

He will constantly just take the plushie off of your hands and plop himself on top of you. No fake eel, just the real deal.

He didn't really tell you he was a mer-eel, he actually just oh so happened to be taking a swim when you were close, and oh, look, he is an eel!

He lets you play with his fins and will take any chance he can get to use you as his cleaning shrimp to get sand off of him. He just like how your little cute hands feel scrubbing the sand from him, it is like exfoliation!

"hey hey, guppy, wanna do something fun? ya can bring the tiny morays with ya, if ya don't mind a bit of dirt, ahahah~!"

Jade Leech

First met you as a tutor for your work at the Mostro Lounge, per Azul's request.

Found your mannerisms quite interesting, you reminded him of himself and a bit of Floyd too.

He was happy when you didn't distance yourself from him when he talked about his interest in mountains or Mushrooms.

In return, you told him you really really really liked Eels. Specially Morays.

He faked not knowing it and let you talk about it since as long as he could rant about his fungi findings he didn't mind having to hear what he already knew.

When you two began dating, he was very perceptive of your needs. sometimes to a scary level, actually.

He doesn't mind at all your eel-filled room. he finds it endearing, and he even uses some miniatures you buy to put on terrariums he gifts to you.

Autistic x autistic relationship, basically.

He will use your eel interest against you in a silly way, like "I can show you an incredible moray fact if you perhaps go hiking with me :)"

Tbh if you are with him, you should do the same. Makes things fun for you both.

Floyd and Azul are so tired of hearing the both of you talk about each other and enabling each other's interests, but Jade will never judge you. And he will actually shove shiitake mushrooms down other's throats if they do judge you.

The moment he showed you his mer form as per your request, after knowing from Floyd that they both are eels.

Jade doesn't mind you picking and prodding around his mer form if it makes you happy, but if you keep your guard down he will fake drowning you "just for fun :)"

Make sure to hide his mushrooms in return, or he will try funny business again, just saying.

"Oya~ I would never intend to purposefully hurt you, my pearl. But a predator is inclined to bite when their jaws are so open near a cute prey, fufufu~"

I wanted to write something for my fave trio for a while, so I hope yall like this! Other posts and the request for Bee and Vixx will be done shortly after this, Since I already have it in my drafts almost finished! Hope yall enjoy a bit of eeltism!

[hpalways]

"my fate, not yours"

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Characters: Higuruma Hiromi, Geto Suguru, Gojo Satoru x GN!Reader

Synopsis: Where death lurks at every corner, they push you away to protect you.

Warnings: Slight spoilers from manga.

HIGURUMA HIROMI

In the world of law, strict boundaries were set, whether on the job, in relationships, personal life, and everything that surrounded you as a core of a person. You were there during his aspirations as a defense attorney. The goodness in his heart shone the brightest among the corruption that wormed its way around the courthouse.

It was what led you to fall for him -- a boundary that should never have been crossed as a fellow colleague.

You were then there at his downward spiral, his expression growing darker at the injustice that became so obvious. The moment his curse technique awakened, he had done the deed -- murder the prosecutor and the judge.

And now, here you were, in this Culling Game with Higuruma Hiromi.

"Are you not afraid of me?" he asked you, after you watched him defeat an enemy from the corner of the deserted theater.

"Why should I be? If you were going to kill me, you would've already done so. My death would give you another extension. Besides, are we not colleagues?"

He nodded, his dark eyes softening slightly. "Yes. For the longest time now. You should leave this game, [Name]. Leave and never turn back. You don't have a technique."

"But..."

"What are you sticking around for? Is it because of your feelings for me?"

Your face blossomed in heat as you fumbled with your words. "H-How? How did you know?"

"I'm a lawyer. As are you. We are quite the perceptive people."

You nodded, ashamedly averting your eyes to the dingy floor of the stage. "Well, yes. I have feelings for you. But no, that's not the reason why I'm still here."

"If it's because of this game's rule of being unable to leave, I can change it."

You shook your head. "I can't leave you here alone."

He approached you, in his suit and disheveled look. Worn out at the roots, and his passion in law failing him, you still held comfort around him. He was like a fallen angel -- the devil, simply misinterpreted and unfortunate. You wanted to save him. Wanted him to know that you were by his side, even if the world wasn't.

"Thank you for loving me," he whispered into your ear. He then curved his face, his warm breath hitting your cheek. With that, he leaned in, soft lips pressed like a kind reminder.

A kiss marked by goodbye.

"But don't love me anymore." His smile was bittersweet, but there was no regret in his eyes, for a newfound freedom had reached him. A fallen angel he was, granted by a new set of wings. "I have no place in the court anymore. You... You still have a life outside of this game."

"No one has to know what you've done!" you argued. "You can still continue!"

He shook his head. "I wouldn't be able to live with myself in a sea of lies. This... This is my path."

Your hands fell to your sides, unable to speak, because the second you would, your words failed you. He was not going to budge -- he had already made his mind a long time ago. He was going to play this damn game until the very end. With or without you.

GETO SUGURU

A destiny as dark and grim as his, many could not withstand it. Many could not deal with his thoughts on humanity and beliefs for his version of a better world. Time and time again, he was left and forgotten, a remnant of an unspoken memory that haunted jujutsu society.

Or maybe, he was the one to leave first.

He thought you were a strange sorcerer, the first time you met. Having met on the battlefield, he expected to fight you to the death, assuming you were on the other team, beliefs that were so morally safe that it made him sick to the stomach.

Instead, you threw your hands up in surrender and invited him to tea. He had never been so dumbfounded.

The more he spoke to you, with your open mind and heart, the more he wanted to understand you.

But now... it was time to let that go. It was time to wrap these silly discussions of what ifs and dive into a world of reality. His plan of action, almost after all these long, long years, was finally underway. If he had to sacrifice everything, then so be it.

"We can't meet anymore," he told you.

You blinked in surprise, nearly choking on your cup of tea. "What? Why?"

He smiled calmly, crossing his legs. "It'll be too dangerous to meet."

"And how does that concern me? I'm a sorcerer."

"You will be put in a position you'll regret. Society will be onto you... onto your relations with me," he said. "So forget about me."

You stood up, slamming your hands down on the table, nearly knocking over the cups of tea. "How could say that? After all this time, you're just going to leave?"

It was nothing new. Not the first time he left someone. He had left Gojo Satoru, Shoko Ieiri, everyone at Jujutsu High, and now, you. He shouldn't have gotten close to you in the first place, knowing that his destiny was sealed. So why did he have to go around and be selfish again? Did he miss all those old days with his former best friend? The days that could never be returned?

There was no point reliving the past.

You grabbed his hand, desperation at length. "Fine. Say you do go through with this. Come back alive."

He grinned, the corners of his creasing. "I cannot promise you anything. I am going up against the strongest sorcerer of all time."

His hand dropped to your head, feeling the rustle of your [h/c] head. Your expression darkened, stressed lining your usual carefree face. Upon seeing it, he fought tooth and nail from wanting to comfort you, to whisper you words of assurance. Instead, he pulled away, preparing himself mentally to harden himself again. If he was able to do it once, he could do it again. It would be no different.

"Forget me. And stop being a halfhearted sorcerer."

GOJO SATORU

As the most powerful sorcerer, nothing could stand in Gojo Satoru's way. If so, then why did you have this uneasy feeling at the mention of the ongoing plan for Shibuya?

Being called on deck to help out the sorcerers, he was beginning with his preparations. He was going to leave. Leave you here to your worries, like the selfish being he was. With his overconfidence that nothing could go wrong as long as he was there, he often overlooked the small things that could trigger a domino effect.

His all-seeing eyes still had a blind spot. You knew that better than anyone.

"You're staying here," he said to you. His reminiscent blues eyes stared intensely at you, swirls of storm washing at bay. They spat back at you, mocking you, for your lack of strength. A finger crept up to the blacks of his blindfold, slipping it downward to cover said hues in slumber.

"No... Let me go."

"You'll only get in the way."

You bristled, poking at his chest, which was a little too solid for your liking. "You didn't have to say it like that."

He sighed and then reached his hand out, ruffling your hair into a mess. "I'm just saying. There's a lot of non-sorcerers to deal with. Your technique won't be useful there. And you need to rest up. You just came back from a different mission."

"I'm just getting a bad gut feeling about you, Satoru."

He snorted and pointed at himself for the dramatics. "Me? We're talking about me over here. I will be fine. Aw, so cute though... my little [Name] is worrying about me!"

Pulling you into a hug, he wrapped his arms around you tightly. The familiarity of his soft cologne, earthy and sandalwood, wafted through your nose, spreading past your mind the memories you had with him. The days had flown through like quicksand, too fast for you to catch on.

You were tired of it. Of Gojo Satoru being the strongest. And the burden that came with it.

"Just sit this one out, hmm? I'll be back before you know it."

"What if you also stay out of this one? It could be a trap they had set up."

He stared at you incredulously, his smile dropping instantly. "Don't joke like that. I cannot afford to sit out. This is my responsibility. The fate of Tokyo relies on me."

You hated it.

You hated his recklessness with so called fate.

[lucysarah-c]

how would Levi react if y/n, one of his scouts, told him to rest, like taking care of him as no one else did.

Maybe he’s not used to people worrying about him and he doesn’t do it about himself, he only thinks about his comrades but not so much about himself

Hi hi! How are you?

Oh, I think it depends a lot on the situation and the relationship Levi has with his scout. Like if it’s said out of nowhere and there's no privacy in the situation, like maybe they are training as a squad together and Y/N comes to him and is like, "you should rest, Captain," in front of everyone when he's finishing training, etc., he may not take it lightly. He may frown and say, "and who are you, cadet, to tell me what I should do?"

Because my idea is that Levi has a very sensitive reaction to the idea of being perceived or being vulnerable. So I feel like if someone straight up says that to his face where others may hear, he may take it as you thinking he's weak or he's not doing well, or you're challenging his limits. And if there's something Levi does NOT like, it is people telling him what to do.

NOW, that's why I say the situation makes a huge difference. Because maybe Y/N sees that the light coming from under Levi's office door is still on. She may knock and peek inside. She notices he's still working very late at night and seems exhausted. Or maybe she delivers something to Levi's office very late at night and finds him in the same state I described before: heavy dark circles, his hair looking a mess, and still a lot of paperwork waiting for him on his desk.

She may subtly put a hand on his forearm, doubtfully, and softly whisper, "I'm worried about you, Captain." He will be surprised at first but quickly try to dismiss it. "But Captain, you look out for all of us out there, outside of the walls. Who will look after you if you don't do it for yourself?"

He may break his facade a little bit, feeling touched. He may not give in completely but say, "What a whiny brat you turned out to be. Fine, I'll take a break so you can get off my back," and get up from his position to brew himself a tea and just CASUALLY brew another cup for her to stick around a little bit longer.

But don't expect miracles haha. This man is a workaholic, and he doesn't like to be told what to do. Subtle, little approaches to make his life easier are probably the best way to get this man to take a few hours off.

Have a nice day!

Stay safe!

[genericpuff]

Hey quick question.

How do you know if you should make a webcomic? I have this story idea that’s been floating around in the back of my head that I think could work well for a comic series. But the problem is I’m mainly used to writing screenplays and more traditional writing.

What I’m saying is, how can I tell if making a webcomic is worth it or if I should stick in my comfort zone?

I mean, there's no definitive right answer when it comes to "knowing" if you should make a webcomic. It really just comes down to you. Do you really like the medium? Do you feel your story has to be told within that medium to achieve its goals?

Same thing goes for whether or not it's "worth it", it really comes down to how you define that. For some people, simply posting their comics online to a few readers each week is worth it. For others, if it doesn't get into print or publishing or whatever have you, it might not be quite so justifiable to keep up with. Neither is better or worse than the other, both reasons are valid because it ultimately comes down to what we as individuals are trying to accomplish and what we define as "worth it" on a personal level.

I actually live on both sides of the spectrum right now because with Rekindled, posting it on Tumblr and getting all the great feedback and company through the audience it's gained makes it worth it. But that worth was defined by my expectations going in - I wasn't making Rekindled for money (legally I can't), I wasn't making it to get an Originals deal or anything of the sort, I was just making it because I found myself deadset on going through with it after months of it living in my head rent free, and so what I've gotten out of it as a result is very much worth it, all I was really looking for was maybe some other readers who would enjoy reading a transformative 'foe fiction' from a former LO fan and I've found those readers in spades simply due to the demand.

Time Gate, on the other hand, was something that I wanted for years to be a 'successful' project, defined more by actual tangible growth and gain. Because I came up with it as a kid, for a long time it was my "magnum opus" project, the thing that I wanted to see get turned into books and an anime and a video game and all those sorts of things as 'proof' of how good it was. Of course, I know now years later that those expectations were WAY too high and it resulted in me feeling incredibly depressed over it for ages. It made it hard to work on and even though I did have some readers, I didn't see it as "worth it" because my expectations were a lot higher than that of Rekindled's going in. But that was simply a matter of experience at that point, because I had been making original comics for so long, when I went into Rekindled I knew a lot more what I was capable of, what I wasn't capable of, and what boundaries I was willing to put down for myself. Even still, I do still want to return to Time Gate some day and when I do, I want to still treat it like a series I want to get off the ground as an actual published piece of work - it's just that this time around, I actually know how to make those steps and be proactive in my approach (and I know where to keep my expectations) which is certainly a perspective and skillset I didn't have when I was 15 LMAO

I will say, realistically speaking, it is a lot harder to pursue webcomics as a writer, because the reality of this medium is that most people who go into it are artists who learn how to write to make a webcomic, not the other way around. Unless you're willing to learn how to draw - which is a whole other skillset that requires years of work and patience - you're likely going to have to seek someone to collaborate with and - I cannot stress this enough - it's not going to be someone you simply find on reddit who's willing to work for free. Again, many of us as artists went into webcomics with a project already in mind, so most artists are already working on their own passion projects, trying to convince someone else to work on yours is just not realistic or fair. I'm fortunate enough to have @banshriek along for the production of Rekindled and even then I still pay for their contributions out of pocket, they're as invested in an LO rewrite project as I am (and thus they're given a lot of room to make suggestions in both the set designs and the writing), and I still had to carry the first 20ish episodes on my own before they joined along, i.e. I would still be making Rekindled if they weren't onboard, but having them is a massive help that's taken the comic to a whole other level in its artistic production.

But that doesn't mean it's hopeless! There's a lot of interest right now in webnovels and writing comic scripts is still a completely viable way to get into the comics industry if you're really interested in doing so (fun fact: before I was making comics, I wrote fanfiction! This is probably not shocking to hear all things considered LMAO) There's a reason Webtoons owns Wattpad now, webnovels are a no-brainer when it comes to adaptations to visual mediums, and webcomics have become part of that environment by extension. So at the very least, if you want to get your story out there, there are loads of ways to do it that don't require you to make a comic - but if you really want to make one, there are ways to get into that industry through writing in other ways such as pitching scripts to comic publishers and/or going indie with webnovels. Ultimately, if many of us webcomic creators stopped drawing our works, we'd still be coming up with stories to write, because that's what's really at the heart of these sorts of projects. So even if you can't get into comics right away due to lack of visual artistry, that doesn't mean it's off the table forever ( ´ ∀ `)ノ～ ♡

Sorry, that was a lot of rambling but I hope it helps ! Remember to keep your goals and expectations manageable, and most of all, write lots! You'll be doing it anyways regardless of whether or not you get into comics, so whatever value you see in getting into comics is up to you to determine! You don't have to know right away, it might be something you'll find along the way or have to adjust as you get more experience, but don't stop yourself from getting creative and messing around until you find out what works! You won't know if it was worth leaving your comfort zone until you try it <3

Good luck! (•̀ᴗ•́)و

[cabotwife]

TOO WELL WAS SOOO GOOD!! maybe a part two…? 🤭

Mess It Up

(pt2 of Too Well)

Johanna Mason x Fem!Odair!Reader

warnings: poorly written, ooc Johanna(?), not proofread, talk of broken bones, ooc Katniss

word count: 1143

a/n: literally had no idea what to do w this, but the people get what the people want💀🙏🏻

--

"wait, y/n!" Johanna's voice rings out, she's running towards you, desperation evident in her tone. you don’t respond, opting instead to quicken your pace as the sound of her rapidly approaching footsteps echo behind you.

"y/n, please." Johanna pleads, her voice closer now as she reaches out, her hand closing firmly around your arm and halting your escape.

"what do you want, Johanna?" you don't hold back the irritation in your voice, your words coming out more as a growl than anything else. you look up at her, your glare unyielding.

Johanna stares back at you with a look of utter confusion. she releases her grip on your arm, crossing her arms over her chest defensively. "i don't understand why you're mad at me," she admits, her voice barely above a whisper.

you let out an exasperated huff, your eyes narrowing at her. Johanna simply glares back, matching your intensity. the tension is palpable as you both stand there, one consumed by anger and the other riddled with confusion. neither one of you breaks the silence.

"we have bigger things to worry about, y/n," Johanna says, her voice firm. "you can't afford to be mad at me right now."

your heart pounds in your chest as you stare at her. "you do not get to dictate how i feel, Johanna Mason," you reply, your voice low but intense. without another word, you turn on your heel and walk away, leaving Johanna standing there, watching you leave with a frustrated groan.

⚘

as time passes and the plan to keep Katniss and, by extension, Peeta safe starts to unfold, you find yourself assigned to look after Peeta. Johanna, on the other hand, has been spending an unusual amount of time with Katniss — a fact that doesn't sit well with you. you try to push down the jealousy that bubbles up from the pit of your stomach, reminding yourself that this isn't about you. it's about the rebellion and securing everyone's freedom.

still, it stings. Johanna now seems more interested in the newcomer from the outer districts. the thought of it churns your stomach, but you swallow it down and focus on the task at hand.

rather than trying to mend the rift between you, Johanna has been acting as if nothing happened. as if you weren't intentionally avoiding her, ignoring her. instead, all her attention and energy seem to be focused on the plan. on Katniss.

when the group is divided, everyone expected you to accompany Johanna and Katniss. you'd always been Johanna's shadow, following her every move like a puppy. your decision to stick with Peeta and Finnick shocks everyone, but there's no time for surprise as the plan moves forward and you all scatter in different directions.

things don't go exactly as planned. at some point, you lose sight of Peeta and Finnick and find yourself alone and lost.

suddenly, a blinding light fills your vision, followed by an earth-shattering explosion. the last thing you remember is the force of the blast knocking you off your feet, and then everything goes black.

⚘

when you finally regain consciousness, you're greeted by another blinding light. you groan in discomfort, shielding your sensitive eyes as you try to adjust to your surroundings.

"y/n?" a voice calls out. it's familiar, but your brain can’t quite seem to make the connection.

"jo?" you respond automatically, confusion setting in.

"no, y/n, it's Katniss. you're safe now." the voice reassures you. but despite the words, the voice sounds eerily like Johanna's. your heart aches at the thought of her. you miss her more than you thought possible.

"y/n, are you there?" a soft touch on your cheek prompts you to finally open your eyes. but instead of Johanna's familiar face, you're met with the worried gaze of Katniss. "hey... hey, please listen," she implores, reaching out to touch your hand. "you're in district thirteen now, you're safe," she attempts to reassure, though her voice wavers precariously, as if she herself isn't quite convinced by her own words.

you swallow hard, the action causing a painful scratch in your parched throat. “where’s.. jo?” you manage to croak out in a voice barely recognizable as your own, hoarse from dehydration and disuse.

your eyes track to Katniss's face, watching as her expression contorts, morphing into a look of... sadness. it's a profound sorrow that is etched deep into her features, a regret that shouldn't belong to this girl.

but what could the mockingjay possibly regret?

your gaze locks with hers, the intensity of your stare prompting you to ask again, “Katniss? where's Johanna?”

“the Capitol... the Capitol has her,” the brunette finally confesses, her sigh echoing through the sterile hospital room. “we.. they.. they got Peeta and Johanna… Annie too.”

the words strike you like a physical blow, causing you to strain against the bindings of your hospital bed. “you... you left her?!” you shriek, your voice breaking mid-sentence and descending into a fit of coughing.

Katniss, seemingly prepared for your reaction, hands you a glass of water. "we, i... i didn't leave her behind," she clarifies, her voice barely above a whisper.

you drink the water, each gulp soothing your raw throat. the cup, now empty, is slammed down onto the bedside table as you stubbornly attempt to push yourself out of the bed.

your legs wobble under your weight as you force yourself to stand, “we... we have to go get her,” you manage to murmur, your voice barely audible.

“don't you think i'm already trying?” Katniss reacts quickly, her voice rising in frustration as she guides you back into the bed. “i’m doing everything i can to get them all safe.”

“but-”

“no buts. you need to rest.”

“Katniss, i’m fine. i need to help Johanna.”

the taller girl shakes her head, her expression solemn, “the explosion broke countless of your bones, including your collarbones and your tibia."

your protest practically dies in your throat, “but-”

“what help would you be to Johanna if you can't even stand properly?"

her words cut through you, leaving you feeling small and helpless.

“she'll be okay, y/n. i won't rest until they’re all safe.”

despite her reassuring words, you can’t shake off the feeling of despair. you feel hollow, like a shell of your former self. your bones throb and itch, a painful reminder of your current state.

you want to cry, to let out all your frustration and fear, but your body can't even muster up the tears.

you're useless, utterly useless.

Johanna needs you, and you are incapable of saving her.

Katniss continues to speak to you, her voice becoming a distant buzz in the background. your mind is too muddled, too consumed by thoughts of Johanna to even try to decipher her words.

you're too focused on Johanna, your Johanna.

[snorky]

You Got That Kinda Lovin' That Can Be So Smooth

Hey y’all! I hope you enjoy this fic I wrote! Keep in mind that it is a work of fiction and that it isn’t a depiction of any of the characters mentioned. Hope it’s sweet and fluffy enough for y’all! The title is from a lyric in  “Smooth” by Santana. Good song check it out. Also Dunner is just <3

Pairing: Vince Dunn x F!Reader

Word Count: 2.0k

Warnings: Alcohol Consumption (of legal age)

—

—

The crowded and noisy bar was not the place to be on a Friday night after a long, tiring day of work. Bodies pressed up one another to the music, the stench of alcohol and booze lingering in the air, loud talking over one another. It was a recipe for a headache. Unfortunately, to her friends, a night out at the bar was a great idea. And so, she ordered a fruity, colorful drink to hopefully distract her.

Minutes passed by, and the drink was forgotten, half-empty and sitting on the bar counter next to her. She swirled the tiny umbrella around the glass, hoping to come up with an excuse to tell her friends why she left early. Her mind sat blank, thinking that just disappearing would cause her friends to panic, and saying that she wants to go home is too straight-forward and a bit rude.

A sigh fell from her mouth as she looked up from her drink, looking around the bar for her friends, hoping that they at least enjoyed their night. It was difficult to spot her friends through the crowd of people in the darkened bar, so after a few minutes of searching and to no avail, she gave up.

She looked at her drink, seeing the mixture of yellow pineapple juice and some alcohol swirl against the ice cubes, before deciding to finish the rest of it. It tasted tangy and sweet on her tongue, the cool liquid helping her calm her nerves for a bit. 

After a while, the effects of the drink kicked in, the music was a lot less of a headache to deal with, and the crowd of bodies dancing seemed tempting. Everything seemed more tolerable. Maybe all she needed to do was let loose, and enjoy the night with dancing and drinks. 

And so she got up off of the barstool and started walking to the dance floor. She felt a bit more confident now that she wasn’t feeling so tired. Music in the air was livelier than before, the beat of it thumping in her chest, and the crowd kept moving along to it. 

She moved to the music, becoming lost in her own world for a bit, enjoying how happy she felt at the moment. The melody seemed to dance in the air and around her, a swirling magic of notes. A smile grew on her face as she swayed in the crowd, feeling confident and not caring what others think.

As she looked up, her eyes met someone, his soft curls sticking to his forehead, his eyes full of laughter, and his lips turning into a smile when his friends told him a joke. He looked like an Ancient Greek sculpture with his strong, and yet gentle blushed cheeks that could be seen in the dim bar lighting.

He took a sip of his drink before setting it down, telling something to his friends, and started making his way over to her. She noticed the way the dark t-shirt hugged his body, how his lips looked so soft, how his eyes seemed to shine even in the dark. When he approached her, she noticed that he smelled like sweet rosewood, and the faint scent of the beer he had earlier lingered on him.

He smiled before speaking to her, his lips moved, but it was impossible to hear him over the loud music in the bar.

“I’m really sorry but I can’t hear you!” she shouted.

He paused for a second before bending down near her ear and spoke, “Should we go somewhere quieter?”

She nodded her head and they both made their way out of the bar, the fresh cool air smooth on their skin. It was much more quiet and calm outside of the bar, but the adrenaline was still coursing through their veins.

“Hey, it’s nice to actually hear you know,” he laughed. His voice was a lot more gentle than she expected, and his laugh was adorable. Warmth radiated off of him in the cooler air, and it was tempting for her to not lean closer to him. 

“Yeah,” she chuckled. “What’s your name?” 

“Vince.” He stuck out his hand for her to shake.

She took his hand and shook it, noticing how warm it was compared to the cool air. “Nice to meet you Vince, you’re really pretty by the way,” she blurted out.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,”

His lips curled into a shy smile before he started laughing softly, “Thanks, you’re really stunning,”

A gentle blush rose to her face, lightly dusting her cheeks with pink. The fairy-lights that hung outside the bar glowed softly against the walls and the surroundings. “How is your night going?” she asked politely.

“My night is going pretty well,” he said. “Had some drinks with some friends while catching up, met a gorgeous girl who was dancing tonight,” he smirked at the last bit. “What about you?”

“Oh, I’ve had a pretty fun night.” She responded.

“Yeah? Tell me about it,” he grinned.

“Well first I had a drink, Pineapple Mint Caipirinha. Didn’t enjoy it at first but it started tasting good after a while,” 

“Sounds fancy,”

“It’s nothing too crazy.” She shrugged. “If you want I can get you it,”

“Whew, trying to buy me drinks now, miss?” he laughed. “It’s alright you don’t have to, it’s stuffed in there, so we don’t have to go back in.”

“Yeah, I’m going to have to agree with you.”

He nodded his head before speaking again, “Back to the question, anything else fun that you did tonight?” His eyes looked at hers, noticing how the tension between them grew a little.

“After the drinks I started enjoying the night more, danced around for a bit, enjoying the music,” she paused as she turned to face him, her hands trailing up his arms lightly, “met a handsomely fine man,” she went on.

His breath hitched for a bit, getting caught in his throat, and he leaned into her touch. “Yeah?” he asked, barely above a whisper. “Anything else fun you did?” He set his hands on her hips gently, making sure that she was comfortable.

“Nope. But I’d be down for more dancing tonight if you are,” she smiled.

He smiled back and let them both linger in the peaceful silence between them, hearing the occasional car pass by down the street, and the patrons of the bar walking out into the night. Music gently flowed out of the bar from the open door, a gentle hum of the melody could be heard.

“May I have this dance then?” His voice is soft and his eyes sweet. The small light hanging outside of the bar casted a glow behind him, giving him a halo around his head. He looked beyond angelic, and the way he smiled added more to it.

She nodded her head, smiling again once her eyes met his, and they started swaying softly to the music. He held her tenderly, almost as if he was afraid she’d slip out of his hands if he wasn’t careful.

He drifted his hands up to hers, and spun her around, making her let out a laugh that filled the quiet air with sweetness. It was like a never-ending moment between the both of them, their smiles making each other swell with happiness, the warmth in each others’ grasp radiating into the crisp night air.

“Gosh, you’re so gorgeous right now, so pretty since I’ve met you,” he whispered.

“Can say the same about you Vince, you look angelic.” She brushed a stray curl that fell out of place back, noticing the flustered look in his face as her hands gently touched his cheekbones. 

He leaned in closer to her, his breath fluttering against her lips. “May I kiss you?”

“Yes please.”

And with that, his lips pressed against hers delicately, closing the space between the two of them. It was a soft, gentle kiss that seemed to last a minute, despite only lasting for a few seconds. They both pulled back for a brief moment, their eyes full of adoration, before they kissed each other again.

The glow of the street-lights looked like little stars dancing around the both of them, a fairy-tale moment almost. When they pulled back once again, they started laughing like two teenagers who just fell in love for the first time.

“You’re so, so lovely,” he spoke softly, his thumbs rubbing circles on her hips. His face and neck were flushed with red, and his smile was bright.

“And so are you,” she said as she pressed a small kiss to his rosy cheek.

Her phone started to ring, the display showing her friend’s name on the screen and she picked up. She let her friends know that she was doing okay and that she was just outside getting some fresh air. Her friends had already left the bar a while back, making her realize how late it was.

Her friend hung up and they both stood there outside of the bar, not wanting the night to come to an end. It was quiet now, the city was starting to sleep, and it became evident that she was as well. She yawned, followed by Vince also yawning, making the both of them laugh.

“Hey Vince? I’m really sorry but I have to end the night.” Disappointment laced her voice. “It’s getting late and I’m a bit sleepy, I had a fun night with you though.”

“Oh no worries, I understand. Do you want me to walk you home, or can you make it home safely on your own?” he asked. It was a simple gesture, but it was extremely thoughtful of him.

“I can get home safely Vince, don’t worry.” She smiled.

“That’s good to hear, but can I ask you a question?”

“Go ahead,”

“Can I get your number? I just really enjoyed the night with you and I’d like to do it again sometime,” he asked nervously.

“Sure,” she responded. “I enjoyed the night as well and I was hoping we could spend more time together,”

He smiled again at her words, appreciating every bit of it. They exchanged numbers before he proposed an idea.

“Can you stand there and smile for me?” he asked, holding his phone up. She did as he said, giving him a big smile as he snapped a photo for the contact image. His heart warmed at the sight of her smile

“Your turn, Vince.” She held her phone up, capturing an image of him with a large grin, his eyes caught mid-blink. She laughed as she selected that image for his contact, knowing that she wouldn’t regret it.

They said their good-byes and as she was walking away, he shouted out to her, “Let me know when you get home safely!” making her feel warm at the gesture. 

As she walked away down the street, she felt happy and warm about her night, appreciating how it wasn’t so bad of an idea to go out with her friends. She kept a mental note to herself to thank her friends the next morning for the fun and eventful night.

When she arrived at her home, her shoes discarded to the side, and her bag on a hook near her door, she laid down on her couch and texted Vince about her arrival at her home.

Made it home! 

*Attachment: 1 Image*

Yippie! - Vince

She laughed at his text, finding it hilarious how just one word from him could’ve made her light up with joy like that. After a couple of minutes, she got off of the couch and started making her way to her room, getting ready to go to bed after the long night.

Before she fell asleep, she sent him one more text.

Goodnight, and sweet dreams <3

You too, sweetheart <3 - Vince

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

Priest getou and nun reader or villager reader....(anything other than the word both isnt acceptable...😡😡😡 /j) -🪄

🪄 ANON I SEE YOU AND YOU RAISE A VALID POINT but please consider…… priest!geto and non-believer!reader.

imagine just waltzing into a church one day. almost as if on a whim. you don’t believe in god, you aren’t interested in praying, but you’re exploring this quiant little town, and the church looks pretty from afar, and you figure it could be a nice way to burn time.

you enter the building to find that a sermon is taking place. a priest is speaking to the few rows of people listening. the church is fairly small, but paintings and sculptures and the mellow glow of beautiful cathedral glass give it a sense of mystique that you’re drawn to. you take a seat and listen along, halfheartedly, not praying like the rest, not singing along to the hymns… you stick out like a sore thumb, but hey, it’s not as if anyone is paying attention.

except someone is, and it happens to be the priest that was holding the sermon just a second ago. the same one you spent most of your time oogling once the paintings started to bore you, because he’s so pretty for a priest. beautiful long black hair, amber eyes, sharp facial features, pretty hands and fingers — and the smoothest, silkiest voice you’ve heard in your life. like a sun-soaked bundle of lillies.

… also, his cassock is just a little too tight of a fit to tear your eyes away from.

you stick around a little longer once almost everyone has left, just scrolling on your phone and basking in the quiet, and that’s when he approaches you. he jokingly tells you that it’s always obvious when a non-believer enters a place of worship, but he’s not mad; he’s amused. you end up chatting a bit about your beliefs, he’s a lot more chill than you expected, and…. well. he’s just really, really charming.

so maybe you end up coming back the week after. maybe his smile is a bit like a spider’s web. maybe it becomes a kind of routine to speak to him after his sermons; you still don’t sing along to the hymns or spend any time on prayers, and he still finds it funny. maybe once in a while you end up liking a paragraph from the scripture he’s reciting, and he’s always more than happy to discuss it with you. but mostly you’re there for him. for your chats, for standing outside and badgering him about his beliefs while he smokes and listens with an amused grin.

rain hits the ground with a steady rhythm, earthy tobacco floods your veins, spiders by the ceiling weave a web of dew, and his presence is just a little more intoxicating than you’d deem appropriate.

suguru just… isn’t a very orthodox priest. he doesn’t care for the bible as more than a literary piece, he has his own view of god, his own thoughts on worship. he smokes. he may or may not occasionally manipulate church-goers into donating money so he can invest in another overpriced painting. you ask him if there are any bodies in the basement you should know about, and he answers that any self-respecting priest wouldn’t conduct their blood rituals in the basement of their own church. he knows how to pick locks. he tells you once, very quietly, that he doesn’t believe man was created in god’s image. there’s a look in his eyes that you don’t comment on.

he’s funny. charming. pleasantly suspicious. your conversations are enjoyable for the both of you, and eventually the edges of his cedar eyes begin to crinkle the slightest bit whenever you walk into his field of vision. sometimes he eyes your lips for a little too long, and a honeyed irony seeps into his grin when you call him out on it. he asks you if you’re tempting him on purpose, and you shrug. whatever exists between the two of you remains unspoken.

one day, he tells you that he believes it was god who sent you to him. you furrow your brows with a protest, a mutter reminding him of your beliefs, how you believe in free will — how you waltzed into his church out of your own volition. no one else’s.

he only smiles, and flicks the butt of his cigarette. you think he remains unconvinced.