#but also just how they interact kind of way

[jungwnies]

f1 grid (1/2) | friendly interactions... or not

୨ৎ : featuring : max verstappen, lewis hamilton, george russell, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris, oscar piastri (click here for part two) ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested by @holycastles) : meeting your friends who they seemingly get along with...kinda...not...really?

୨ৎ : genre : comedy (angst if u squint) / slight beef ୨ৎ : word count : 3008

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ 10k event | masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : this was so fun and unhinged i loved being able to create different personalities for the friends and everything LMFAO // oscar's was my favorite one to write i love it...

ʚ・max verstappen

you’d warned them ahead of time.

“he’s not rude, he’s just… quiet. and blunt. but like, in a sweet way. sometimes.”

that did not stop your friends from collectively side-eyeing you like you���d announced your boyfriend was a literal dragon.

“max verstappen? that max?”

“i just feel like he’d roast me for my driving.”

“do you think he even knows how to have small talk?”

you rolled your eyes. “he’s literally so normal. you’ll see.”

they didn’t believe you until thirty minutes into girls’ night, when max wandered in after his workout, sweat-tousled and comfy in joggers, and waved like he didn’t just walk into a room full of skeptical women.

“hi.” he looked between all of them. “you’re the ones who always send her those weird memes, right?”

cami gasped. “wait… you read our group chat?!”

you groaned. “max!”

“i didn’t scroll,” he said, completely unbothered. “i just saw the one where someone said ‘he probably dreams in dutch and drs.’ that was funny.”

syd choked on her drink. “…that was me.”

max turned to her, expression dead serious. “you’re not wrong.”

you covered your face. “this is going horribly.”

“no it’s not,” he said, crossing the room to kiss your forehead like it was nothing. “your friends are funny. i like them.”

that was the turning point.

thirty minutes later, max was sat between cami and val on the couch, holding one of their iced coffees like it was a fine wine, eyebrows furrowed.

“so you’re telling me,” he said, gesturing at syd’s phone, “this guy left you on read for four days, but still viewed your story?”

syd nodded. “yup.”

max shook his head. “he’s done. block him.”

“oh my god, you do get it!” she laughed.

“i’m not heartless,” he mumbled, cheeks slightly pink. “people just need to stop wasting her time.”

you leaned in from the kitchen. “should i be worried you’re starting a girl gang without me?”

he grinned. “we’re gonna get jackets made.”

later, as you walked him out so he could head back to the hotel, max laced his fingers through yours and said, “your friends are cool. i thought they’d hate me.”

you smiled up at him. “they thought you’d hate them.”

“that’s stupid.”

“they also thought you’d be scary.”

he stopped, leaned in close. “do i scare you?”

you laughed. “only when you’re behind me on track in karting.”

he smirked, kissed the tip of your nose, and said, “tell them i’m free next friday. i’ll bring snacks.”

ʚ・lewis hamilton

“i’m warning you now,” you said as you opened the front door. “don’t act weird.”

“you’re dating lewis hamilton,” mariah whispered like you’d just casually admitted to dating royalty.

jess widened her eyes. “do we call him sir lewis? like—is that a thing?”

you didn’t have time to respond, because lewis walked in holding a box of vegan pastries and a bottle of wine, dressed in cozy neutrals and smelling expensive.

“hi, beautiful,” he said, kissing your cheek like nothing else in the room mattered. then he turned to your friends with a megawatt smile. “you must be the infamous trio. i’ve heard so many stories.”

nina blinked. “from her?”

he nodded, handing her the wine. “and i remembered all your names. don’t quiz me though. it’s been a long day.”

mariah snorted. “okay, i like him already.”

fifteen minutes in and they were obsessed. not just because he was lewis hamilton, but because he was soft-spoken, asked thoughtful questions, and had the kind of eye contact that made people feel seen.

jess: “so… do you ever get nervous before a race?”

lewis: “not as much now. i get more nervous when she’s watching.”

mariah: “why?”

lewis: smiles “because i care what she thinks.”

meanwhile, his hand never left yours. fingers brushing yours under the table. knuckles against your thigh. every now and then he’d look over at you with this quiet little smile, like you were some kind of calming center.

when you got up to grab more ice, you heard nina whisper:

“dude. he hasn’t stopped looking at her all night.”

jess added, “he gave her the softest little smile when she laughed at that dumb joke. i almost cried.”

mariah leaned in. “okay, no, but that man is in love. like, core memory level in love.”

you froze in the kitchen doorway. “he’s right there.”

“we know.” jess whisper-yelled. “and he doesn’t care. he’s a certified loverboy.”

when he finally left, he gave them all warm hugs and said, “thank you for loving her. it means the world.”

and before heading out, he turned to you, cupped your face gently, and murmured, “text me when you’re home, okay? sleep’s always better when i hear from you.”

when the door clicked shut, mariah flopped on the couch like she’d run a marathon. “girl. i can’t even be fake salty. he’s so in love with you it’s romantic comedy level ridiculous.”

ʚ・george russell

you knew george was a bit territorial.

not in a scary way — more like the gentleman version of a cat that rubs his head on you to claim ownership. he’d do things like put his hand on your back when someone complimented you. or slide closer when you talked to strangers in the paddock. but this? this was new.

“wait… who’s micah?” george asked as you grabbed your bag.

you blinked. “micah? my best friend?”

his brow furrowed. “you said you were going out with friends tonight, not… guys.”

you laughed. “babe, literally every friend i’m seeing tonight is a guy.”

his jaw did a subtle tighten. “right.”

when you got to the rooftop bar, george was civil. polite. british, even.

but the grip on your waist tightened just a bit when luca hugged you. and he didn’t laugh when micah said, “god, you’re so hot when you parallel park.”

george just said, “she’s hot doing anything,” with the fakest smile you’d ever seen.

you tried not to laugh.

halfway through the night, you leaned over and whispered, “you good?”

he smiled. “of course. why wouldn’t i be?”

you gave him a look.

he exhaled. “you didn’t tell me all your friends were dudes. i’m just trying to… assess.”

“assess what?”

“if i need to fight anyone.”

you snorted into your drink.

the turning point came when micah and luca started arguing over whether george clooney or paul mescal was the superior white boy crush.

micah went, “listen, i’d let paul ruin my life but george is my tax bracket soulmate.”

and luca added, “you’re forgetting dev patel exists, which is crazy because i would risk it all.”

george blinked.

then turned to you, slowly. “i’m sorry. are they all—”

“gay?” you said, trying not to wheeze. “yes. every single one of them.”

“oh.” he sat back in his chair. “oh.”

you leaned in, grinning. “were you feeling threatened?”

he cleared his throat. “i was… aware.”

“they all follow you on instagram, george. they send your shirtless pics in the group chat with heart emojis.”

micah shouted across the table, “he’s on my lockscreen!”

george turned red. “i—really?”

“don’t flatter yourself,” luca deadpanned. “it was a joke. you were standing next to lewis.”

later, on the uber ride home, george had his arm slung around you, looking appropriately sheepish.

“i really thought luca was into you.”

you laughed. “he literally helped me pick your birthday gift and called you ‘delicious.’”

“i wasn’t listening. i was too busy panicking.”

you kissed his cheek. “you’re lucky you’re pretty.”

he kissed the top of your head. “i’m also lucky your friends are hot and unavailable.”

“micah’s still flirting with you.”

george shrugged, smug now. “he has taste.”

ʚ・carlos sainz

when you told your friends you were bringing carlos to the group dinner, the reaction was immediate.

“wait—like carlos sainz?”

“the spanish one?”

“the one with the hair?”

“bro. he’s hot but does he talk?”

you laughed. “he’s so normal, guys. you’ll see.”

carlos showed up exactly two minutes early with a bottle of wine and a handmade bouquet he’d “accidentally” picked up on the way because he “thought it looked like something you'd like.”

immediate chaos.

“oh, he’s dangerous,” said tiff, already hiding behind her wine glass.

your bestie eli raised an eyebrow. “he’s not allowed to make eye contact with me. i’m weak.”

but then he spoke.

“so,” carlos started, standing there with his hands awkwardly folded in front of him, “who is in charge of… uh… the vibes?”

there was a beat of silence. then eruptive laughter.

“you mean like the playlist?”

“no, i think he meant the vibes.”

“oh my god he’s an actual golden retriever.”

“no, he’s like a very polite tourist.”

you couldn’t stop laughing. “carlos, baby, just sit down.”

to be fair, he tried.

he listened to the conversations, nodded thoughtfully, smiled politely.

but then he pointed to amara’s glass and said, “you drink that very fast. is that normal?”

she blinked. “…it’s a margarita, carlos.”

“oh. i like tequila. but not margaritas. they’re… too horizontal.”

everyone paused.

“too… horizontal?” eli echoed.

carlos nodded. “too flat. i like drinks that have… structure.”

you whispered, “i have no idea what he’s talking about.”

“he’s handsome. let him be strange,” tiff murmured.

but then he helped clean up the dishes without being asked. offered his jacket to eli when they stepped outside. complimented. tiff’s nail color in a way that wasn’t creepy, just genuinely curious. when amara made a joke, he laughed even though he clearly didn’t get it — just because everyone else was laughing.

by the end of the night, your friends were perched on the couch, dissecting him like an art exhibit.

“he’s awkward. but like… warm awkward.”

“like golden retriever professor awkward.”

“like if a sexy man had the brain of someone who collects model trains.”

you threw a pillow at them. “he’s just spanish!”

carlos poked his head in from the kitchen. “who is spanish?”

eli grinned. “you are.”

carlos blinked. “…yes. i know this.”

in the car on the way home, he leaned into you, a little sheepish.

“they laughed a lot.”

“with you,” you said quickly. “not at you.”

“…i was strange, wasn’t i?”

you kissed his cheek. “you were perfect.”

ʚ・charles leclerc

“okay. i need you all to be normal.”

you stood at the kitchen island while your three closest friends — maya, bri, and jade — collectively ignored you in favor of speculating about your boyfriend.

“i just feel like he’s intense,” bri said, sipping her wine.

“he’s monegasque,” jade replied like it explained everything.

maya added, “i bet he’s one of those guys who listens too closely and then says something super personal and makes you cry. in a good way.”

you groaned. “you guys are insane. he’s literally just charles.”

and then he walked in, hair a little windswept, cheeks pink from the cold, carrying pastries and wine with the proudest smile.

“hello,” he said. “i brought snacks. and the red wine that she said tastes like… uh… the floor?”

you winced. “i said it tasted earthy.”

he kissed your cheek. “same thing.”

to your surprise — and theirs — he fit in immediately.

and not just like, polite boyfriend sitting quietly kind of fit in.

like, full-on engaging, bantering, storytelling with hand gestures and wild facial expressions kind of fit in.

“and then,” charles said, wide-eyed, “i realized the bike i had taken was not my bike. it was—how do you say—locked to someone else's bike. so i am dragging two bikes across monaco like a thief.”

jade was crying. “did no one stop you?!”

“they stared! i waved and said, ‘it’s okay, i am very sorry!’ which is not helpful if you look like a criminal.”

bri gasped between laughs. “you’re unhinged.”

charles shrugged. “it is not my fault all bikes look the same.”

but what really got them wasn’t just the stories — it was how he looked at you.

when you got up to get more drinks, his eyes followed you automatically. when you sat back down, he rested a hand on your knee like it grounded him. when you laughed, he smiled like it was the only sound that mattered.

at one point, when you reached for the wine, he gently pulled it back. “drink water first,” he said softly, like it was second nature. “you get headaches.”

later that night, when he went to take a call from his brother, your friends immediately rounded on you.

“okay. i get it now,” maya whispered.

“he’s funny,” jade added, stunned. “like. actually funny. and kind of chaotic?”

“and so in love with you,” bri finished. “like, if you asked him to move to the moon with you tonight, he’d be like, ‘yes, let me pack my helmet.’”

you tried not to blush. “he is a little awkward sometimes.”

“he is, but in a hot way,” maya said. “like… emotionally available french cartoon character energy.”

you nearly choked.

ʚ・lando norris

“are you sure he’s ready for this?” you asked as you poured drinks.

your best friend zara smirked. “is he ready, or are you scared we’ll like him more than you?”

“both,” added amina, already plotting.

and then, of course, lando showed up five minutes early with takeout, a mischievous smile, and a hat too big for his own head.

he looked around the room. “so. you’re the ones she keeps texting during our dates.”

“depends,” zara said. “are you gonna give us something to talk about?”

lando blinked. “that sounds threatening.”

“good. you’re learning.”

they clicked immediately.

amina asked about his sim setup. zara grilled him about his spotify playlists. jules challenged him to mario kart and then screamed when he barely won.

and the whole time, lando kept up effortlessly — tossing jokes, throwing fake shade, and flashing you the smuggest grin every time he got a laugh.

“oh, so you think you’re funny now?” you teased.

“i know i’m funny. ask your friends,” he said, sliding closer.

zara leaned in. “he is. unfortunately.”

at one point, the conversation somehow devolved into an argument about cereal rankings.

“frosted flakes are top tier,” jules said.

lando gasped. “that’s so vanilla of you.”

“sorry, mr. i-buy-fancy-cereal-in-monaco,” jules shot back.

amina whispered to you, “i get it now. he’s just one of us in a more expensive hoodie.”

you smiled. “i told you.”

but it wasn’t just jokes.

it was the way lando would pause mid-story to rub your back. or how he leaned over to top off your drink without asking. or the moment you yawned and he whispered, “want me to wrap it up?” against your shoulder.

zara caught it and mouthed he’s obsessed with you across the room.

when he left that night, jules dabbed him up like they’d been boys for years.

“you’re alright, norris. for a mclaren driver.”

“i’ll pretend that didn’t hurt,” lando said dramatically.

zara hugged you and whispered, “he can stay.”

amina added, “but only because he beat me at uno.”

later that night, you were scrolling through your phone when lando texted: your friends are chaos and i love them. also, zara’s playing it cool but she’s totally a fan. i saw the twinkle. also also. you looked stupid pretty tonight. thanks for sharing your people with me <3

ʚ・oscar piastri

you’d prepped him on the way there.

“they’re loud. you’re not. please don’t shut down.”

oscar glanced at you from the driver’s seat. “i don’t shut down. i just… conserve energy.”

you laughed. “whatever you call it, try not to look like you want to leave the whole time.”

he rolled his eyes, but you caught the faint smile.

the moment you walked in, your best friend dani narrowed her eyes.

“that’s him?” she mouthed.

you nodded, and she replied with a very slow, hmm.

you sighed.

oscar stood next to you like a polite guest at a wedding, smiling faintly, hands in his pockets.

“you alright?” you asked, low.

he nodded once. “i just feel like i’m being judged.”

you smiled. “because you are.”

to his credit, he tried.

made small talk. laughed (softly) at jokes. asked how everyone knew you. but dani wasn’t biting. she stayed suspicious, arms crossed, watching him like she was waiting for a slip-up.

meanwhile, your friend luke — loud, dramatic, and a certified flirt — came up behind you and slung an arm over your shoulder.

“hey, sunshine. you look hot.”

oscar’s eyes did a slow blink.

you didn’t catch it — but dani did.

later, while you were grabbing drinks, dani cornered oscar in the hallway.

“so. what’s your deal?”

he blinked. “my… deal?”

“you like her?”

oscar’s brows lifted slightly. “very much.”

“then why do you keep glaring at luke like you want to run him over with a scooter?”

oscar blinked again. “because i do.”

dani paused.

“…okay,” she muttered, then turned and walked off — almost smiling.

back in the kitchen, luke was showing you something on his phone when oscar came up behind you and casually slid his hand around your waist.

you leaned into him instinctively.

“having fun?” you asked.

he pressed a quick kiss to your temple. “loads.”

luke looked between you two. “oh. so you do like her.”

oscar blinked. “why does everyone keep asking me that?”

later that night, when you were saying your goodbyes, dani pulled you aside.

“i still think he’s too quiet,” she said, eyes narrowed. “but. he passed.”

you grinned. “he grew on you?”

she shrugged. “he has some personality. i just think he’s got trust issues.”

you blinked. “based on what?”

she looked over at oscar — who was very subtly glaring at luke again. “…girl. he’s five seconds from growling.”

in the car, you nudged him.

“hey. be honest. you hate luke, don’t you?”

oscar didn’t look away from the road. “he’s too friendly.”

you tried not to smile. “you mean he called me hot.”

“he also winked.”

“he’s gay, oscar.”

oscar blinked. “…is he?”

you burst out laughing. “you are so bad at this.”

2021-2025 © jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[leriexoxo]

Rumor Has It…

Bully! Jeongin x Fem Reader

Genre: Bully AU, Rivals to Lovers, College AU

Tags: Smut, Angst, Fluff, bullying themes, toxic behavior, jealousy, possessive behavior, rough kisses, emotionally confusing situations, mutual obsession, protected sex, soft aftercare

Word count: 5.5k

Summary: You had a crush on the golden boy junior everyone loved. Jeongin noticed—and didn’t take it well. Now you’re his favorite target, his sharpest insult, his worst-kept secret. The tension between you two builds until it breaks… or explodes.

This work contains mature themes, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

A/N: This was a request from an anon. (Next time, ask with your account so i can tag you and also be sure you’re not a minor 😩 I only wrote this cos I actually loved the idea) Hope you enjoy it!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You didn’t mean to draw attention to yourself.

Especially not his.

College was supposed to be your quiet reset. New campus, new people, no more high school drama or cafeteria hierarchy. You weren’t aiming for popularity, just a peaceful freshman year with decent grades and enough coffee to survive it.

And for a while, that’s what you had.

Until Jeongin.

Jeongin was a junior—untouchable in every sense. Smart, smooth-talking, always surrounded by people who hung onto his every word. Girls giggled louder when he passed by. Guys looked up to him like he ran the place. Professors loved him. The kind of person who could talk his way out of anything and charm his way into everything.

You noticed him early on—how could you not?

The way his hoodie always hung loose off one shoulder, the curve of his grin when he was teasing someone, the casual way he leaned against doorframes like they were made for him. He was so far out of your league it was laughable. But you still found yourself watching.

A crush. That’s all it was. Harmless.

Until that seminar.

The class was small—thirty students tops—and you’d arrived late that day, flustered and sleep-deprived. The only seat left was next to him. You hesitated, but the professor had already called your name.

So you sat beside Yang Jeongin.

He didn’t look at you. Didn’t acknowledge you. Not at first.

You didn’t mean to answer the question out loud. You really didn’t. But the professor had asked something you’d actually studied, and your hand went up before you could think twice.

And Jeongin looked at you.

A slow turn of his head. Just a glance. But it lingered. And when he smiled—sharp and unreadable—it felt like the floor dropped beneath your chair.

“Freshman’s got opinions,” he said, not even bothering to whisper it.

The class laughed. You shrank.

He didn’t stop there.

After that day, something shifted. He started showing up next to you more often—always with some offhanded comment.

“Didn’t know they were letting high schoolers audit this course.”

“You sure you’re not lost? Cafeteria’s two buildings down.”

“Careful. That bag looks heavy. Don’t hurt your baby arms.”

It was constant. Subtle enough that no one really called him out, but pointed enough that you felt it. Always you. You’d seen him joke around with his friends before, but this was different. He wasn’t laughing with you—he was smirking at you.

You stopped sitting near him. Stopped speaking up in class.

But it didn’t matter. He always found you.

One time, you heard him tell someone you were “the new campus kitten—jumpy, clueless, probably still using Apple Notes to write essays.”

You hated him. You hated him.

And still, your stupid heart stuttered whenever he leaned too close.

Still, your eyes searched for him in the crowd.

You wished you could stop noticing him. Wished his cologne didn’t stick in your lungs after he brushed past. Wished he wasn’t so effortlessly hot when he was being awful.

Wished he didn’t make you feel so small and seen all at once.

And he had no idea.

He didn’t know you ever liked him. Didn’t know you still kind of did.

Didn’t know that even when you clenched your fists and scowled in his direction, your throat tightened whenever he said your name.

And you swore to yourself, if he pushed you one more time—just once more—you’d snap.

You tried to avoid him.

Switched lecture sections. Ate lunch in the library. Took the long way around campus if you so much as sensed him nearby.

But Jeongin was like smoke—always finding its way into your lungs, no matter how tightly you sealed the windows. And once he’d gotten a taste for your discomfort, it was like he couldn’t get enough.

He started showing up in places you knew he didn’t belong. The student lounge outside your psych class. The library’s third floor where you studied every Wednesday. Once, he even joined your shared elective’s group chat and volunteered for your project team—just so he could be across from you during meetings, watching you squirm.

And yet, he never touched you. Never raised his voice. Just words. Looks. Quiet mockery, sugarcoated in charm.

Golden boy, they called him.

But he was especially cruel when it came to you.

“You always this jumpy?” he asked once, sliding into the seat beside you without warning. “Relax. I’m not gonna bite.”

You didn’t answer.

He leaned closer. “Unless you want me to.”

You’d swallowed hard, gritting your teeth through the heat crawling up your neck. “Do you enjoy this?” you muttered under your breath. “Being a dick?”

He chuckled. “Only when it works.”

You hated that you flushed. Hated that your mouth went dry and your pulse picked up. Hated that he could reduce you to that with a look.

So you buried it. You ignored him. You let him win.

Until the party.

You hadn’t even planned on going. But your roommate begged you, and honestly, you needed the distraction. Music, noise, new people. Anything that wasn’t Jeongin’s smirk or his voice in your ear.

You didn’t expect him to be there. It wasn’t even his crowd.

But of course, he was.

And he noticed you immediately.

He didn’t approach. Didn’t say anything. Just stood across the room—red cup in hand, dark eyes locked on you like he’d been waiting for you to walk in.

You turned away.

Which was probably why you ended up talking to the guy by the drinks table. He was nice. Funny. A little nerdy, but in a charming way. He made you laugh. And it felt good—so good—to be seen without malice.

But then something shifted.

You felt it before you saw it. A weight. A pull.

And when you turned your head, Jeongin was watching again—this time with his jaw tight and eyes sharp, like he was trying not to feel something.

You brushed it off.

Until the next week—when whispers started following you around campus.

Heard she’s easy.

Thirsty freshman.

Already trying to climb.

You froze when you heard it. Your hands shook when you opened your phone and saw the vague, biting posts floating around socials. No names, of course. Just cruel implications.

But you knew. Everyone else might not—but you knew.

And so you stopped avoiding him.

You found him.

He was outside the dining hall, laughing with a few people you didn’t recognize. Sunglasses on. Perfect smile. Still untouchable.

You didn’t wait. You walked right up to him, heart pounding, fists clenched.

His smile faltered when he saw you. “Well, well. Campus kitten found her claws.”

You didn’t blink. “Did you start it?”

He tilted his head. “Start what?”

“The rumors.”

Silence.

Then: “Why? Upset someone finally saw through the act?”

That was it.

You stepped forward, shoving at his chest—harder than you meant to.

He caught your wrist before it could fall. His fingers closed, warm and sure, his grip firm—but not rough. Not quite.

“Careful,” he murmured. “You’re not built for war.”

Your breath hitched. His face was close. Too close.

“You’re an asshole,” you whispered.

“And you,” he said low, eyes flickering to your lips, “should stop looking at me like that if you really hate me.”

And just like that, you weren’t sure if you were about to slap him… or kiss him.

Your wrist slipped from his grip.

And you didn’t hold back this time.

“You’re a fucking coward,” you snapped, voice louder than intended. “That’s what you are. You act like you’re too cool to care, but you’re the one hiding behind whispers and petty rumors. What—scared people might think the golden boy actually gives a shit about someone like me?”

It was the first time you’d ever seen Jeongin freeze.

His smile dropped.

His jaw clenched.

And you didn’t wait to see what came next.

You turned on your heel and left.

Stupid.

Stupid, stupid.

Your hands were still shaking as you pushed open the dorm stairwell door, taking the stairs two at a time just to get away from the weight in your chest. You didn’t know what hurt more—how badly you’d wanted him to say something real, or how stupid it was to expect anything from someone like him.

You barely made it to your floor when the door slammed open behind you.

“What the hell did you just say to me?”

You spun around.

Jeongin stood at the bottom of the stairs, eyes blazing, chest heaving like he’d sprinted the whole way.

“I said you’re a coward,” you bit out, “and a dick. And I hate you.”

He was in front of you before you could blink, cornering you against the wall at the end of the hall. Not touching. Not yet. Just close—his breath ghosting across your cheek, his expression unreadable.

“You hate me?” he echoed, voice low.

You nodded, stubborn. “With every fiber of my being.”

“Funny,” he muttered, “you didn’t look at me like you hated me the other night at the party. When you were smiley and giggly for that guy by the punch bowl.”

Your stomach twisted. “So you did start the rumors.”

“Maybe” he said flatly. “After I saw you with him.”

You blinked, thrown off. “What—?”

“Because I didn’t like it,” he said, voice sharp now, as if he hated admitting it. “I didn’t like watching you laugh with him. I didn’t like how close he stood. I didn’t like that you smiled like that for someone who wasn’t me.”

The air thickened. His eyes dropped to your mouth.

“I don’t like any of this,” he whispered. “And I don’t know what the fuck to do about it.”

And then he moved even closer—just enough to skim your cheek, his lips barely brushing the corner of your mouth. A heartbeat. A single breath between contact and restraint.

“I’m not the only one lying here,” he murmured. “You say you hate me, but your body doesn’t know how to fake it.”

You hated how your breath hitched. How the heat between you tightened into something unbearable.

“Say it again,” he challenged. “Look me in the eye and say you hate me.”

You swallowed.

But you didn’t say a word.

Because you couldn’t.

And he knew it.

“You’re a sick asshole, you know that?” you spat, cornered between the stairwell wall and the weight of his body again.

Jeongin didn’t flinch. If anything, he looked satisfied. Like he wanted you mad.

“Because I didn’t like seeing you with someone else?” he asked, dark eyes narrowing. “Because I made sure no one else would touch you after that?”

Your pulse jumped.

“You spread a rumor that I sleep around,” you hissed, throat tight. “You called me easy, Jeongin.”

“I didn’t say your name,” he said coolly. “They just knew who to talk about.”

Your chest heaved.

“You ruined my reputation just because I talked to someone who wasn’t you?”

His jaw clenched, and this time, he didn’t hide it.

“Yeah. I did,” he said.

Simple. Sharp. No excuses.

“You’re disgusting.”

“You’re the one who made me do it.”

You shoved him, hard.

He didn’t budge.

“Get away from me,” you said, though your voice cracked on the last word.

“Say you didn’t like it,” he muttered, dipping his head lower. “Say you didn’t like knowing I cared that much.”

Your mouth opened—to scream, to curse, to spit in his face—but the only thing that came out was a weak, shaky breath as your back hit the wall harder than before. He didn’t touch you, but his words slid across your skin like hands.

“You want me to apologize for it?” he said, tone mock-soft. “Or do you just want to know if I’d do it again?”

You swallowed hard.

Because you should slap him. Scream at him. Run.

But instead, your thighs pressed tighter together, heat crawling traitorously up your neck.

And Jeongin saw it.

His lips curled into something dangerous.

“You hate me,” he murmured, brushing his knuckles against your cheek. “But you still want me.”

“I don’t.”

“Liar.”

Your heart thundered.

You hated him.

You hated him so much.

And if he leaned in just a little closer, you were going to do something really fucking silly.

You shoved your hand against his chest, breathing hard, trying to steady your voice through the fire crawling up your spine.

“Say you’re sorry.”

Jeongin blinked.

“What?”

“You heard me,” you snapped. “Say. You’re. Sorry.”

He stared at you, eyes flicking between your lips and the frustration trembling through your body. You didn’t think he’d do it—he wasn’t the type. But then something in him cracked.

His hand curled behind your neck, fingers threading into your hair, the tension in his jaw cutting like glass.

“I’m sorry.”

You froze.

His voice was low, but not mocking. Not cold.

Real.

“I’m sorry for the rumor. For the way I talk to you. For being a complete fucking asshole.”

Your breath caught. Your heart stuttered. And before you could react—

He kissed you.

Hard.

It wasn’t sweet or slow, not at first—it was messy, wild, weeks of sharp words and stolen glances crashing together in one devastating second. His lips crashed against yours like he was trying to make you forget every insult, every time he looked at you like you were nothing—and you kissed him back like you knew he was lying every damn time.

His hands slipped down, palms flattening against your waist, dragging you closer. Your fingers fisted in his shirt like you were trying to keep from drowning.

He broke the kiss first, barely.

“I meant it,” he whispered, lips brushing yours. “I’m sorry.”

Your hand cupped his jaw. “Then shut up and kiss me again.”

He did.

And this time, it was slower. Deeper. A different kind of desperate—like he was trying to memorize the taste of your mouth, like he’d waited too long to do it right.

You hated him.

But God, you wanted him.

—

It had been three weeks since Jeongin kissed you in that stairwell.

Three weeks since he muttered an apology against your lips, like it physically pained him to admit he’d been wrong. Three weeks with your heart in your throat and your mouth still tingling from the way he kissed you like it meant everything.

And in those three weeks, Jeongin hadn’t touched you once.

But he texted you.

God, he texted you.

At first, it was random.

[1:47 AM] Jeongin:

can’t sleep

You didn’t answer. The next morning, he texted again.

[9:04 AM] Jeongin:

ignore me like that again and I’ll kiss you harder next time

Then it was constant.

He started sitting behind you in lecture. Not beside you—behind you. Close enough for you to hear his breath shift when you adjusted in your seat. Close enough to drop texts mid-class.

[11:12 AM] Jeongin:

stop playing with your pen like that unless you want me to take it away and put your mouth to better use

You nearly choked in the middle of econ. Your professor shot you a look. And Jeongin? He just smirked when you glanced over your shoulder.

You tried to pretend it didn’t happen. The kiss. The texts. The fact that now, every time he passed you in the hall, your chest got tight and your thighs pressed together instinctively.

And he pretended too.

On campus, he was the same cocky golden boy—loud with his friends, always joking, always charming.

But when you caught him watching you—really watching—you felt it.

All of it.

The tension. The hunger. The subtle claim of ownership buzzing in the air.

Because he wasn’t just watching. He was waiting.

And you were starting to want to give in.

⸻

You didn’t dress up for him.

You told yourself that over and over as you checked your reflection in the bathroom mirror before class.

But the skirt was short—barely thigh length when you stood still. The top? Cropped just enough to tease, especially when you leaned forward. And your lip gloss shimmered in a way that would catch the light—and his eyes—without even trying.

You didn’t dress for him.

But when you passed him in the hallway and caught the way his gaze snapped to your legs, lingered, then dragged up your body like he was physically starving—you didn’t look away.

Not even when he pulled his phone out with a clenched jaw.

You were halfway through your next lecture when your phone buzzed. Then again. And again.

[1:13 PM] Jeongin:

you wore that on purpose

don’t lie to me

[1:14 PM] Jeongin:

I can’t fucking focus

all I can think about is bending you over the desk and making you forget everyone else is in the classroom.

[1:15 PM] Jeongin:

i’m not even expecting a reply

i just needed you to know what you’re doing to me

You stared at the screen, heat crawling down your neck.

For weeks, he’d been needling you—softly, slyly, like he was waiting to see how far he could push before you snapped.

And today? You’d pushed him.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard. Your heart thundered in your throat.

And then you typed—slowly. Just one sentence.

[1:16 PM] You:

Then why don’t you do something about it?

Three dots.

Then nothing.

You smiled to yourself and tucked your phone away.

Class hadn’t even ended yet when your screen lit up again.

[1:27 PM] Jeongin:

be at my dorm in 20

door’ll be unlocked

You stared at his message until your vision blurred.

be at my dorm in 20

He didn’t even ask. He just knew you’d come.

And the worst part?

He was right.

Your knee bounced under the desk as the professor droned on about behavioral economics. You weren’t hearing a single word. Not when your body was buzzing, not when your thoughts were stuck on that stairwell—the taste of his mouth, the way his hand gripped your waist like it was the only thing tethering him to earth.

You hated him.

God, you hated him.

But then why did your fingers burn remembering how soft his voice went when he whispered sorry against your lips? Why did your stomach flip every time your screen lit up with his name? Why did every guy on campus seem suddenly, painfully uninteresting?

And why—why—couldn’t you stop thinking about what it would feel like if he kissed you again?

You exhaled sharply as you stood and left class early, ignoring the stares.

Your dorm was in the other direction.

But your feet didn’t take you there.

You weren’t even sure what your plan was—if you’d knock and leave, if you’d tell him off, if you’d kiss him senseless or slap him across the face. Maybe all of it. Maybe neither.

But you found yourself standing in front of his door anyway, pulse thudding at your throat, your hand frozen mid-air.

You didn’t knock.

You pushed the door open.

And there he was—sitting on the edge of his bed like he’d been waiting the whole time, elbows on his knees, head tilted.

Jeongin looked up. Smirked.

But his eyes… His eyes burned.

His room was warm. Too warm. Or maybe it was just you, standing there like your skin was one breath away from catching fire.

Jeongin didn’t move. He just watched you.

Like he knew exactly what you were thinking.

Like he felt the chaos in your chest because it mirrored his own.

“You really came,” he said, low and casual—like you hadn’t been losing your mind over him for weeks. Like he hadn’t humiliated you, kissed you, texted you filthy things between lectures and then acted like none of it mattered.

You crossed your arms, stepping in but not too far. Not close enough to fall.

“I almost didn’t.”

Jeongin’s smirk faltered. His eyes flicked down to your mouth, then back up.

“But you did.”

You hated that he was right.

“I should go,” you mumbled, even as your feet stayed planted. “This was stupid.”

“You think I didn’t mean what I said?”

“That’s the problem, Jeongin,” you snapped, voice sharp to cover the tremble. “You always mean it. Until you don’t. You kiss me, then you treat me like—”

“Don’t,” he interrupted, standing slowly. “Don’t do that.”

You flinched as he stepped closer, crowding your space. He didn’t touch you—but the heat of his body was magnetic, unbearable.

“I do mean it. I meant the kiss. I meant the texts, the apologies. I mean this.”

You shook your head, eyes stinging, throat tight.

“I hate you,” you whispered, chest heaving.

He took one step closer, gaze fixed to yours.

“No,” he said softly, “you don’t.”

His fingers brushed your wrist. Not forcefully. Not demanding.

Just asking.

Your breath caught.

And for a second—just a second—you leaned in.

Not enough to kiss. Just enough to want it.

The air between you buzzed, full of heat and panic and everything unsaid.

He stared at your mouth like it was the answer to a question he didn’t know how to ask.

“Tell me to stop,” he breathed.

But you didn’t.

You didn’t answer with words.

Just leaned in, slow and steady, until your nose brushed his. Until your lips ghosted over his—soft, deliberate, electric.

And when he didn’t move?

You kissed him.

Deep. Slow.

A kiss that said I heard you. A kiss that said I’m still mad, but I want this too. A kiss that let him in.

Jeongin exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for months.

His hands came up, featherlight at first—one cradling your cheek, the other finding your waist, fingertips curling into your hoodie like he couldn’t believe you were real. The kiss deepened, his lips parting, tongue brushing yours with cautious reverence.

But the caution didn’t last long.

Because the second you whimpered—barely audible, barely there—he broke.

A low, strangled groan vibrated in his chest as he backed you against the wall, lips still locked to yours like he’d die if he let go. His hand slid down to your hip, gripping just a little tighter, guiding you flush against him.

You could feel it—all of him.

Thick, hard, throbbing through the denim he probably didn’t even realize he was grinding into you.

Still, his voice cracked when he pulled back enough to breathe.

“Let me make it up to you,” he rasped, forehead pressed to yours, his mouth swollen and trembling. “Please. I’ll do anything. Just let me touch you.”

You shivered, fingers fisting in his shirt.

“Jeongin—”

“I’ll be good,” he whispered, breath hot against your skin as he kissed down your jaw, your neck. “I’ll take my time. I’ll make you feel so good, just, please—please—let me show you.”

You didn’t answer with words.

You grabbed his wrist, turned toward his bed, and pulled.

And the way he followed you—obedient, breathless, burning—it was almost needy.

The second your back hit the mattress, he was on you. Not rough. Not greedy. Just everywhere at once.

He kissed you like he owed you every apology he never said. Like he was trying to etch I’m sorry into your skin with every slow drag of his tongue against your throat, every trembling grip of your thigh.

He took his time undressing you.

Lifted your hoodie like it was sacred. Pressed soft, reverent kisses to your stomach as he pulled it over your head.

“God, look at you,” he whispered, eyes hungry, hands gentle. “I’ve thought about this so many times.”

Your breath caught when he dipped his head and kissed down your chest, your ribs, your hips.

But when he knelt between your legs and looked up at you?

His voice broke.

“Please let me taste you.”

And when you nodded?

He moaned. Not quiet. Not controlled.

Desperate.

And then his mouth was on you—tongue slow, deep, greedy. Like he wanted to drown in you. Like he needed to.

You’d never felt anything like it.

The way he licked. Sucked. Worshipped.

And when your hips started to tremble, when your thighs squeezed around his head, when your hands clawed at the sheets and you tried to push him away from overstimulation?

He didn’t move.

Just growled into your core and held you still.

“You’re not running from me,” he murmured, voice slick with praise. “Not when I’m making you feel this good.”

And fuck—he was right.

Because you came for him, hard.

And he didn’t stop until your legs were shaking and your voice was wrecked and all you could say was his name.

Over and over and over again.

You were still gasping when he kissed his way back up your body—wet mouth trailing fire across your skin, up your stomach, your chest, your throat. His lips met yours again, soft but needy, and you tasted yourself on his tongue as he murmured against your mouth.

“So sweet,” he whispered. “Could stay down there forever.”

His voice was cracked wide open now—low, breathy, almost reverent. His hands cradled your face like you were something breakable. Sacred. Untouchable—except you’d just let him touch you everywhere.

And he wasn’t done.

Not even close.

He kissed you again. Slower. Deeper.

Then his fingers curled around your hips and turned you over—gently, guiding you onto your stomach with a press so tender it made your spine arch without thinking.

You shivered.

He leaned over you, chest brushing your back, breath hot at your ear.

“You okay?” he whispered.

You nodded. “Yeah.”

His lips grazed your shoulder. “Still want this?”

Your answer came out like a gasp. “Yes.”

He groaned—quiet, strained, like the word physically affected him.

And then he reached into his back pocket.

You heard the foil tear, the soft rustle of denim and the shift of his weight as he got ready.

Still, he paused—one hand pressed flat between your shoulder blades, the other gripping your hip like an anchor.

“Can I fuck you now?” he asked, barely audible.

Like he couldn’t believe he was really asking. Like he needed to hear it from you, one last time.

Your stomach flipped.

“Yes,” you whispered. “Please.”

And that was it.

He lined up behind you—slow, careful, the blunt head of his cock sliding through your slick folds, teasing until you whimpered, pushing just enough to make you ache.

Then he sank in.

Deep.

You choked on a moan.

He cursed softly, both hands bracing on your hips now. “Fuck—baby—you feel so good…”

He moved slow at first. Long, shallow strokes that stretched and dragged and made your body melt beneath him. His fingers tightened around your waist, but not to hold you down—just to stay grounded. Like he needed the contact. Like he was trying to memorize the shape of you.

Every inch. Every sound.

And the second he found the right angle—that spot—he grunted low in his throat, hips rolling deeper, slower, like he was trying to fuck an apology straight into your soul.

“You’re mine,” he whispered, leaning over you again, lips pressed to your shoulder. “No more games. Just this. Just us.”

You whimpered.

“Say it,” he begged. “Tell me you’re mine.”

You turned your head just enough to meet his eyes.

“I’m yours.”

His breath caught.

Then he fucked you harder.

You couldn’t hold back the moans anymore.

Not when he was fucking you like this—slow and deep, every stroke dragging a whimper from your throat, every grind of his hips sending sparks up your spine.

“God, Jeongin,” you gasped, gripping the sheets. “You feel so fucking good.”

He cursed under his breath, hands tightening on your hips. “Yeah? You like that?”

You nodded, breathless. “Yes— fuck!” you confessed, hips pushing back into him. “Give me more.”

That wrecked him.

You felt it—the way his rhythm faltered for a second, the way his grip trembled.

Then he growled.

Deep in his chest.

He pulled out and flipped you over in one quick, effortless motion, pressing you into the mattress with his body before sliding back in deeper.

This time you could see him—his cheeks flushed, blown-out eyes, lips parted as he watched you fall apart beneath him.

And you did.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, hands gripping his back like you needed to hold on or lose your mind entirely.

Every thrust punched little gasps out of you, soft and high and needy.

“Fuck,” you moaned. “Don’t stop—don’t you dare stop—”

“I won’t,” he panted, forehead pressed to yours. “Not until you come all over me. Not until I feel it.”

You kissed him then—fierce, messy, hot—and he groaned into your mouth, hips grinding deep as you rocked up to meet him.

But you wanted more.

You needed control.

So you pushed at his chest until he got the message.

He let you flip him—only because he wanted to see what you’d do.

And you didn’t disappoint.

You straddled him, slick and flushed and trembling, and sank back down onto his cock with a moan that echoed off the fucking walls.

Jeongin’s hands flew to your thighs, head tipping back against the pillow.

“Jesus Christ,” he gasped. “Look at you—fuck, baby—ride me.”

And you did.

You moved like you were trying to make him lose his mind.

Grinding down slow, bouncing just enough to tease, clenching around him until he was a mess beneath you.

He tried to thrust up into you but your hands pinned his chest, keeping him down.

“I’m in charge now,” you whispered, breath hot against his jaw. “You want to make it up to me?”

He nodded, frantic.

“Then take it.”

You started to move faster.

Harder.

And he broke.

Whimpering your name, begging for release, hands bruising your thighs as he tried to hold on.

“You gonna come for me?” you asked, biting his lip.

“Y-Yeah—fuck—gonna come so hard, baby—please—don’t stop—”

You leaned down, moaning into his mouth, and let your hips roll just right.

And that was it.

He came with a shout, deep inside you, fingers digging into your skin, body shaking beneath you.

You followed a second later—head thrown back, spine arching, vision blurring as the orgasm crashed over you like a wave.

You collapsed on his chest, both of you breathing like you’d just run a marathon.

And then—He laughed.

Quiet. Breathless. Disbelieving.

“Holy fuck.”

He didn’t let you move. Not at first.

He just wrapped both arms around you and held you like you might vanish—his face buried in your hair, heart pounding so hard beneath your cheek it echoed in your ears.

“Jeongin,” you whispered.

“Mhm?”

You pressed a slow kiss to his collarbone. “You okay?”

He nodded against you, but didn’t speak. His arms stayed locked around your waist, one hand drifting up and down your back, fingers tracing the curve of your spine like your skin grounded him. Like if he let go, the moment would disappear.

Eventually, he shifted just enough to meet your eyes.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No,” you said, voice low. “You were perfect.”

A shaky breath left him—half a laugh, half a sigh of relief.

“Good,” he muttered, brushing your hair away from your face. Then, he exhaled hard, eyes flicking down to your mouth before settling back on yours.

“I mean it,” he murmured. “No more rumors. No more games. I want this to be real.”

You swallowed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” He hesitated, like the words scared him. “I want you to be mine. For real. Like—actual dates, hand holding, annoying you on purpose just so you’ll kiss me to shut me up. All of it.”

Your heart skipped.

You stared at him for a beat too long—just long enough for panic to flicker behind his eyes.

Then you kissed him.

Slow. Certain.

His whole body softened beneath you, arms tightening again as he melted into your mouth.

“I’ll go on one condition,” you whispered when you pulled back.

He blinked. “Yeah?”

You smirked. “You have to stop bullying me in school.”

He groaned, hiding his face in your neck. “Fuck, no promises.”

“Jeongin—”

“Fine,” he muttered. “But only because I like you. So much it makes me stupid.”

You grinned, curling into him as he pulled the blanket over both of you.

And for once, he didn’t have a single sarcastic thing to say.

He just held you.

Like he meant it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Authors note: Hey baby girls! Soooooo yeah like i said earlier, requests are open but i wont be taking any from anons, (cos i need to know i’m not feeding minors tbh 😩) feel free to send in requests, i’ll write the ones i can relate to!

Don’t forget to drop that like and comment! And follow for more fics if you haven’t, cos i post almost daily!!! Reblog too!!!!

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[xjulixred45x]

OMG!!! THAT WAS SO GOOD!

It was so fun to read and it give me so many ideas that i would like to share if you don't mind.

Kid! Yuu insists in carrying Grimm around. Imagine being an NRC student and you see this kid with their 1.19/1.30 carrying this 90cm cat,is just comic.Grimm is not complaining.

Kid! Yuu randomly drops a lore info; they are with the boys, and out of nowhere they go, "One time I didn't see my mom and dad for 2 days." "Mama was acting funny a couple days before I appeared here. She looked at me oce and said that I was a burden. I don't know what it means, but it doesn't sound good." And the boys are just (⊙_⊙)? You can go nuts with this one.

I think that Jack would be one of the most careful with Kid! Yuu, they reminded him of his siblings. So if you go to Savanaclaw, you're going to see this big as hell wolfman, and his little ray of sunshine, full of trauma, but a ray of sunshine.

The staff is pressuring Crowley to find a way back, but not for Kid! Yuu go back to that empty house with no love, caring, or joy. Actually, they justwant to beat this kid's parents so much that they not gonna remember they on names.

Kid! Yuu still go to class, but the teachers give them activities that kids of their age would learn. Vargas basically plays with them while the boys are dying doing the real P.E. class.

I can see Trein being one of the most worried with Kid! Yuu situation, a little more if kid! Yuu is a girl,reminds him of his own daughters.

The boys and staff need to teach them some things for this kid's sake, like, "If you have a problem, you can and should talk with a grown-up." "If you want something, you can ask us."Stuff of the type.

I would really like to hear your thoughts about those too. Remember to eat and keep hydrated. Bye~

-🐦‍⬛✨

This is so good! Lmao

Grim lets his little henchman carry him around for NRC (he won't admit it, but he likes that Yuu helps him feel important and grown-up), even if it makes things a little difficult. Besides, if anyone tries to mess with them, Grim can easily breathe fire back at them—it's a win-win.

The first-years, being the ones who interact with Yuu the most, are definitely the first to realize something's wrong with this kid. It's not something direct at first, but rather certain habits Yuu has that reveal him as someone who grew up too fast (being too independent or mature for their age, knowing how to cook, clean, and so on on their own, not trusting adults, etc.).

Ace probably once caught Yuu stockpiling food at Ramshackle. The reason? "In case I get grounded without food," it takes Ace a full minute to process what this kid just said. And thenautomatically drags them off to have tea and eat some of Trey's candy at Heartslabyul . Ace isn't very good at this kind of thing, but he DEFINITELY knows it's not normal for a little kid to do that, and he needs someone RIGHT to point that out to them.

Deuce also notices some of Yuu's unusual habits, but especially when he talks about their home. When Deuce told them about his mother and how he wanted to make her proud, Yuu looked at him in a way they never had before. they said his mother wasn't happy with them either, that sometimes they wouldn't see her or thier father for days, but that was okay because then they wouldn't be a burden to them (Deuce proceeded to hug Yuu for three hours straight).

Jack is the one who affirms, the one who assures Yuu that they're not a bad kid, that their parents weren't good people, and most of all, that they deserves to be loved. He's especially gentle with them; they remind him of his little sibilings, so it pains him greatly to see how little affection they received in their life, and he's willing to change it. I can see Jack easily giving in to Yuu's whims, such as transforming into a wolf so Yuu can ride or sleep on him, hanging on his shoulders because he's tall, etc.

Epel definitely tells Yuu straight up that if he runs into their parents, he'll beat them up in seven different ways. Aside from that, he's great at making the kid laugh, whether it's with words from his original dialect/accent, exaggerated Vil imitations, or going on little escapades to get some candy/junk food for themselves. He's also taught Yuu a few tricks on how to use their "cute" appearance to their advantage to escape trouble.

Sebek makes a huge effort to not be so loud around Yuu, realizing that it brings back very bad memories for them, or at least encourages them to be louder and more vocal about what they want. He's the most offended and genuinely angry at the kind of treatment Yuu's parents gave the kid, and assures them that while they're in Twisted Wonderland, they won't have to fear being hurt, that they'll protect them. He's quite affirming without knowing it.

Ortho and Yuu are basically best friends; they're both in a new world and deeply curious about everything around them. Although, of course, Ortho tries to take more care of his more fragile, flesh-and-blood friend. Ortho ends up being the one who teaches Yuu various social skills like "stranger danger" and "trusted adult," and, above all, that if they feels ill or something bad happens to them, they can count on their friends to help them!

The teachers are so partial to Yuu, that while the others are practically fighting for survival in the hellish Vargas camps in the middle of nowhere, Yuu is playing jump rope with Ortho and Grim. While everyone else is dozing off listening to Trein's lectures, Yuu is completing a short basic quiz for the day, with Lucius on their lap. While the others are making potentially explosive potions, Crewel is teaching Yuu basic chemistry.

Sam has definitely given Yuu a couple of gifts to cheer him up when they feeling particularly down, whether it's their favorite food, an item they's been eyeing up, or something unexpected. You never know with Sam. Crowley is happy that he doesn't have to pretend he was looking find a way to get Yuu back home now that everyone's warmed up to them, or well, now they're demanding that he do it, but to... beat up their parents? Well, he might consider it.

After all, Yuu has united the school in a unique way, it's the least they could do, right?

_________

(ESPAÑOL)

Esto es muy bueno! Lmao

Grim deja que su pequeño secuaz lo cargue por NRC (no lo admitirá, pero le gusta que Yuu lo ayude a sentirse importante y grande), incluso si le dificulta un poco. Aparte, si alguien trata de meterse con ellos, Grim puede fácilmente escupirles fuego, es un ganar-ganar.

Definitivamente los de primer año, al ser los que más interactúan con Yuu, son los primeros en darse cuenta que algo malo paso con este niño. No son cosas directas en un inicio, sino mas bien ciertos hábitos que tiene Yuu que lo delatan como alguien que creció muy rápido (ser demasiado independiente o maduro para su edad, saber cocinar, limpiar y demás por su cuenta, no confiar en adultos, etc).

Ace probablemente una vez sorprendió a Yuu haciendo una reserva de comida en ramshackle ¿la razón? “en caso de que me castiguen sin comer”, a Ace le toma un minuto entero procesar lo que este niño acaba de decir. Y automáticamente después lo arrastra Heartslabyul para tomar el té y que coma algunos dulces de Trey. Ace no es muy bueno en este tipo de cosas, pero DEFINITIVAMENTE sabe que no es normal que un niño pequeño haga eso, y necesita que alguien ADECUADO le diga eso.

Deuce también nota algunos de los hábitos inusuales de Yuu, pero más que nada cuando habla de su hogar. Cuando Deuce le hablo de su madre y como quería hacerla sentir orgullosa, Yuu lo miro de una forma que nunca lo había hecho, dijo que su madre tampoco estaba feliz con ellos, que a veces no la veía ni a ella ni su padre por días, pero estaba bien, porque así no sería una carga para ellos (Deuce procedió a abrazar a Yuu por tres horas seguidas).

Jack es el de la afirmación, el que le asegura a Yuu que no es un niño malo, que sus padres no eran buenas personas, y sobretodo, que merece que lo quieran. Es especialmente gentil con ellos, le recuerdan a sus hermanos pequeños, por lo que le duele mucho ver el poco afecto que ha recibido en su vida, y está dispuesto a cambiarlo. Puedo ver a Jack cediendo fácilmente a los caprichos de Yuu, como transformarse en lobo para que Yuu lo monte o duerma sobre él, estar sobre sus hombros porque es alto, etc.

Epel definitivamente le dice directamente a Yuu que si se topa con sus padres les va a partir la cara de 7 formas diferentes. Aparte de eso, es un grande en hacer reír al niño, ya sea con palaras de su dialecto original/acento, imitando a Vil de forma exagerada o yendo en pequeñas escapadas para conseguir algunos dulces/comida chatarra para ellos solos. Tambien le ha enseñado un par de trucos a Yuu sobre cómo usar el aspecto “adorable” a su favor para escapar de los problemas.

Sebek hace un esfuerzo enorme de no ser tan ruidoso cerca de Yuu al darse cuenta de que eso trae muy malas memorias para ellos, o al menos, los incita a ellos a ser más ruidosos y claros con lo que quieren. Es el más ofendido y sinceramente enojado ante el tipo de trato que le dieron los padres de Yuu al niño, y le asegura que mientras este en twisted wonderland, no tendrá que temer que lo lastimen, que lo van a proteger. Es bastante afirmativo sin saberlo.

Ortho y Yuu son básicamente mejores amigos, ambos están en un mundo nuevo y tienen una gran curiosidad por todo lo que los rodea. Aunque claro, Ortho trata de cuidar más de su más frágil amigo de carne y hueso. Ortho termina siendo quien le enseña a Yuu varias cosas sociales como “peligro extraño” o “adulto de confianza” y sobretodo, que, si se siente mal o algo malo le pasa, puede contar con sus amigos para ayudarle!

Los profesores son tan favoritistas hacia Yuu en este caso, mientras que los demás están prácticamente luchando por sobrevivir en los campamentos infernales de Vargas en medio de la nada, Yuu esta jugando saltar la cuerda con Ortho y Grim. Mientras que todos se están durmiendo escuchando las lecturas de Trein, Yuu esta completando un pequeño cuestionario básico por el dia, con Lucius en su regazo. Mientras los demás están haciendo pociones potencialmente explosivas, Crewel le enseña a Yuu química básica.

Sam definitivamente le ha dado un par de regalos a Yuu para animarle cuando le ve especialmente decaído, ya sea su comida favorita, algún artículo que haya ojeado o algo sorpresa. Nunca se sabe con Sam. Crowley esta feliz de que no tiene que (fingir que estaba buscando) buscar una forma de que Yuu vuelva a casa ahora que todos se encariñaron con ellos, o bueno, ahora le exigen que lo haga, pero para…¿darle una paliza a sus padres? Bueno, puede que lo considere.

Después de todo, Yuu ha unido la escuela de una forma única, es lo menos que podrían hacer ¿no?

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

[foggyinphx]

There's two small moments near the beginning of season 2 episode 1 that I'm kind of fascinated with.

Foggy and Matt are walking down the street, talking about Foggy and the Barista. First is a random guy walking in the opposite direction saying hi to Foggy (who smiles and waves back). Second is a woman who runs into Foggy (they're shoulders hit pretty hard), she turns and says "Watch it, asshole!", Foggy shrugs it off and keeps talking to Matt.

The first guy is interesting because he just further solidifies that Foggy knows everyone. And they know him enough to randomly say hi on the street by name.

The second lady is intersting because if you think about it... what else was Foggy supposed to do in that situation? He was guiding Matt. It was a busy sidewalk full of people. She was walking fast, they were walking fast. If he tried to step out of her way, that would have meant pushing Matt, potentially into other people. So instead he just takes the hit, shrugs it off, and keeps the conversation going.

Considering how impressively that 5 minute scene alone establishes everything the audience needs to know about Foggy and Matt, I also appreciate really those two interactions for their subtlety.

[leviruthan]

them with a s/o who has a sunny personality

summary : how they handle a darling who’s rowdy, loud, energetic and overall a bit like Kalim; they have very high empathy and would always be there to comfort someone and often get overly affectionate with strangers; they aren’t naive though and are willing to be more stricter when needed [requested by anon]

characters : all overblot boys

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

kind of overwhelmed at first

he is used to order and rules so your energy be pretty chaotic to him

but he quickly comes to appreciate your ability to lighten the mood and bring joy to those around him (after all inside he's a cutie pie 🎀 is how I see him anyway...)

he loves how genuinely affectionate you are to him, because as you know he has hardly experienced much of that warmth

although his face becomes red like his hair he likes how you're always there to loudly cheer him on. and how you always remind him to take breaks

while he is not as outwardly expressive, he'd find his own ways to show he cares about you, like remembering small details and giving you gifts (sometimes handmade, might not be perfect but he tried) based on your preferences

the public displays of affection makes him feel both loved but also embarrassed and flustered. he tries to maintain decorum

secretly adores your energy. since he's so used to rules and structure, your free spirit would be like a breath of fresh air

will be the one to pull you aside gently if you were getting too friendly with strangers who may or may not have good intentions,muttering something about maintaining proper boundaries. knows you can take care of yourself but he's protective and can't help it

even though you're so full of energy he finds himself surprisingly calmer when you're around

he would even let you get away with breaking a some rules, just because he knows your heart is in the right place. tho would of course scold you and tell you not to do it anymore

he would see you as a good balance to his personality <3

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

is the type to act like he's too cool for your energy, but secretly loving it

your liveliness is opposite to his usual laziness. although it often looks like he's not paying attention to whatever random stuff you're saying, he actually is. you can see the slight twist of his ears time to time although his eyes are closed

he'd enjoy your affectionate nature, even if he grumbles about it

expect eye rolls and sighs. tells you your energy is annoying. but if anyone dampens your mood 🔪👿

as a territorial animal, the affection you show towards everyone will make him a veey possessive... he will pull you closer with a lazy arm around your waist if it looks like to him that someone is looking at you not very platonically, a silent way of saying mine

when you're strict with him at times, he'd actually listen (begrudgingly), mostly because he knows you're not doing it to control him, but because you just genuinely care

your energy brightens his often dull days. finds a strange comfort in your presence, a background noise that somehow isn't irritating

scoffs but doesn't object when you try to braid his hair with colorful ribbons and try touching his ears

MALLEUS DRACONIA

malleus would be fascinated by you.

your energy and ability to connect with others would be something he's never experienced

he cherishes your affectionate gestures and finds comfort in your empathy, especially since he often feels isolated

he'd be very protective of you, ensuring your happiness and safety. he might not understand all your social interactions, but he'd try his best to learn

he's seen so much quiet and reverence, your energetic nature would be a delightful contrast

a genuine smile is always on his face whenever your cheerful greeting cuts through the usual silence around him

his eyes gleam with amusement when you familiarize him things like human high five

appreciates your straightforward honesty and your willingness to speak your mind, even to him

if he sees you comfort others, he'd watch with a thoughtful expression, perhaps even learning from your open display of care

he would never try to change you, he sees your vibrant spirit as something precious and must protect

VIL SCHOENHEIT

vil would initially see your energy as a bit... much. he's all about elegance and poise, so your rowdiness would clash with his aesthetic

but he'd grow to admire your ability to brighten people's day and your genuine kindness. he appreciates your affection, though he might try to maintain his image by not being overly lovey-dovey in public

he recognizes the genuine warmth and empathy you possess, and he likes your willingness to stand up for others

he would maybe try to "guide" your energy, suggesting more "appropriate" ways to express yourself in public

but beneath the critiques, i think he'd find your unwavering kindness and loyalty happiness and joy and everything incredibly endearing

loves your unwavering confidence, even when it borders on audacity

secretly impressed by how easily you can charm people with your warmth

AZUL ASHENGROTTO

azul would see your energy as... a resource /hj

i mean the way you can easily attract people with your awesome personality.. you can also charm customers so they'll visit a next time

despite his initial hesitation about physical touch, azul has grown to cherish your hugs. he finds comfort in the way you hold him

he's lowkey jealous lots of time. while he trusts you, he can't help but feel a pang of jealousy when others vie for your attention. h'll never admit it, of course 🤐 okay maybe he would, kinda unintentionally

azul is a very attentive listener, he remembers small details you mention and brings them up later, showing how much he values your words

he's a surprisingly meticulous gift-giver. not in a grand, flashy way, but in a very thoughtful and practical sense that shows he pays attention. his gifts often reflect that - a rare book you mentioned wanting, a specific type of tea you enjoy, or a custom-made

he sees you as a valuable partner in all aspects of his life

loves you so much was about too make you sign a marriage contract but you weren't stupid enough to get tricked and told him you'd marry him even without these methods he almost cried /j

IDIA SHROUD

idia would be overwhelmed and flustered by your energy at first. he's used to the quiet and solitude of his room, so your liveliness will be a shock to his system

however he quickly becomes addicted to your presence. your affection would be a source of comfort and warmth he's hardly known

and he cherishes your empathy and ability to understand others, especially when he's feeling anxious or insecure

he might struggle with displays of affection, at first at least, but he'd find ways to show he cares in his own way, like sharing his favorite games or making some type of technology thing for you

he, who often struggles with social interactions, would find your natural ability to comfort people amazing

whenever you two go out you're the one who's interacting with others like waiters or shopkeepers... "excuse me, he said no pickles"

loves how considerate you are

as much as he loves you and your nature he definitely needs his quiet moments to recharge after being around you

thinks you're sss grade girlfriend material he has no idea how he got

JAMIL VIPER

jamil would find your energy both exhausting and endearing

he's usually the ones taking care of others, when you try to get to open up he will be a bit defensive at first. will apologe to you later because you're only trying to care for him. he's emotional pretty repressive so

he's used to managing kalim's chaotic nature, so he's prepared for your liveliness 👍

he'd also value your ability to connect with others, recognizing it as a strength he sometimes lacks

jamil would likely be acting a bit exasperated but secretly fond of your energy

he wouldn't try to dim your light, but he'd definitely be the one to make sure you're also taking care of yourself amidst all that energy and caring

[sitepathos]

OH DEAR AUTHOR!!!!! PLEASE UPDATE FROM GOLD TO MOLD AND I WILL SELL YOU MY SOUL!!!!!!

From Gold to Mold

Chapter 13: The Talk

(A/N: I humbly accept your offer! With your soul in my possession, you feel slightly more empty than normal!)

Warning: this chapter will feature self-mutilation. Read at your own risk.

Alfred suppresses a sigh as he looks upon Master Bruce and his children crowding the Batcomputer, obsessing over the readings of the sample obtained from you that night in the Mojave Desert. When he, Master Dick, and Mistress Cassandra returned, Master Bruce refused to be confined to the infirmary, determined to analyze your blood as if it contained the secrets of the universe.

Then again, given the family’s obsession with you and their desire to bring you back to the manor, that might very well be the case.

When he reviewed the footage of the fight, Alfred was blown away at just how… ferocious you’ve become. Yes, he’s heard how every interaction with your father and siblings has gone, but he’s always excused that as years of unreleased anger and resentment coming out now that you could do so safely.

But taking a chunk out of your father’s arm? That took a rage he thought you incapable of.

However, unlike your family, he doesn’t think this “Megamycete” is controlling you; that night it came to visit them has stuck with him and while it’s a bit bizarre to converse with sentient fungus, Alfred really believes the two of you have formed some sort of symbiotic relationship (although he still wishes you were never put into a situation where you needed such a thing in the first place).

While he never admitted it, he noticed your behavior prior to you departing the manor had changed drastically. For most of your tenure at Wayne Manor, you walked through its halls as if they were a minefield, inching slowly as though the slightest misstep would lead to tragedy, and avoiding any room where Master Bruce and the other children were in. During your final days, however, you walked as though you had nothing to fear, uncaring if Master Bruce or any of your siblings were to discover you.

And then there’s your appearance, starting with the disappearance of the scar Master Damian gave you when the two of you met (oh, how his heart aches at how the events of that day unfolded). At first he just thought you found a way to hide it using some kind of concealer, but now he knows that the Megamycete must’ve healed you.

Of course, you look completely different now compared to four years ago, but he doesn’t think your transformation can be solely attributed to the Megamycete. For years, you suffered in the halls of the manor, forced to rely on an old man for company and learn to move about silently so as not to attract the attention of the rest of its inhabitants, so it would make sense that the toll of that kind of emotional and psychological stress would affect you physically.

Now, after living in Goodsprings and being away from them, you have a far healthier glow to you (although that could also be due to Nevada’s regular exposure to sunlight versus Gotham’s constant gloom) and carry yourself with a kind of pride he never expected of you.

And when he saw your speech at the award ceremony, he knew you were truly happy with your new life.

On one hand, he’s happy for you. You lost your mother at such a young age and it happened so suddenly that you weren’t able to say goodbye; on top of losing the only parent you’ve known, you were dragged to the other side of the country to live in a place you’d most likely never heard of before to live with a father you’ve never met before. And to top it all off, you spent over ten years living in a place that made it clear you weren’t welcome, that you were only here due to a legal obligation and not love.

If there’s anyone in the world that deserves a happy ending, it’s you.

But, on the other hand, he can’t let you go.

Out of everyone in the Wayne Family, you’re the only one who’s had a normal life, thus bringing a much needed balance to the manor; you’re a breath of fresh air to the eccentricity of his charges.

And, like it or not, you are a Wayne, therefore making you a member of the family. You belong here, in Gotham and with them.

With him.

And he thinks he knows how to bring you back home… or, at the very least, get you talking to them.

You glare at the blank notebook on your desk as if it had insulted your good name and debating on stabbing it a mold tendril with enough force to puncture both it and the desk it sits on.

(Doing that will not solve your current dilemma.)

“I know,” you whine before throwing the pen on the notebook and slouching into your chair. “But it’d be the only idea I’ve had and it would make me feel better.”

The problem you’re currently facing is coming up with your next game. Sure, Salvage Rights is still going strong and the Lost Paradise DLC has been received well, but gamers today are always looking for the next big release (you’ve had countless people flooding your business email asking about future games) and if you don’t keep your players satisfied, they’ll go back to CoD or Fortnite.

And while you’re proud beyond words about Salvage Rights and its success, you didn’t get into making video games just to be a one-game designer. Ergo, the brainstorming session that is currently kicking your ass.

Should you keep making visual novels? It’s the type you’re most familiar with and it has a charm no true gamer can deny.

Although, you’re more than capable of designing 3D models and a 3D game would appeal to more people.

But, it all depends on what your new game will be about, hence why you’re angry at the notebook with only the words “New Game Ideas” written at the top of the first page. You’ve been in here for almost three hours and the only thing you’ve done is look up obscure YouTube videos you watched years ago that popped into your head while you attempted to work.

You have an archive full of the ideas, memories, knowledge, and experiences of countless people throughout the ages and you’ve come up with exactly zero ideas.

(You should not force yourself to do this,) the Megamycete says in a calming tone. (If you do, you will continue to have no success and any ideas you do have will not be as well-thought of as and will fall apart the moment you begin to work. The right idea will enter your mind when the time is right.)

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” you sigh. “I’m just getting more pissed and it’s not helping me.” You stand up and begin to make your way to the exit. “How ‘bout we binge watch some anime and pig out on junk food?”

(We wish to watch one of those ‘isekai’ anime you watch. We find the concept of being in another world fascinating.)

“Sure thing, buddy,” you say with a chuckle as you make your way to the kitchen and begin grabbing random junk food and bottles of soda and water with your mold tendrils.

While you’re not the biggest anime watcher in the world (you consider yourself more of a casual anime fan more than anything else), you absolutely devour anything isekai; you discovered it during your time and Gotham and the thought of being transported to another world full of magic, fantasy creatures, and adventure and having the most powerful abilities in said world appealed to you almost as much as making Salvage Rights.

Hell, you wished to be transported to a magical world for your birthday for three years in a row before you finally accepted the hellish reality that was life in the Wayne Manor. While being in such a world was great on its own, the thought of being in such a world with a harem of attractive men plagued your daydreams at the manor, at school, and at work.

(It would have been nice to be in such a world,) the Megamycete says as you plop down on the couch and begin pulling up your anime streaming platform on your tablet, your junk food and drinks scattered across the table.

“Guess we’ll have to make do with anime,” you say as you scroll down the list of anime.

(Wait,) it says just as you’re about to select a series. (We are about to have company.)

“Company,” you repeat, confused. “Who is it?”

(It is them,) it responds, its tone full of hatred and resentment.

There’s only one reason the Megamycete would speak like that.

You patch into the roots surrounding your house and sure enough, it’s the Waynes. Specifically, all of them.

“That’s not company, it’s an infestation,” you growl.

You get up and storm over to the door, mold tendrils at the ready and your bloodlust already threatening to boil over.

“Why can’t you assholes leave me the fuck alone,” you growl once you throw open the door just as Bruce stepped onto your porch, hand raised to knock.

“Now, now,” a familiar voice says in response. Your eyes widen when the merry band of misfits parts to allow Alfred through. “Is that any way to greet guests, Master Y/N?”

Your breath hitches and eyes mist up at the sight of the man you consider a grandfather. While you have no regrets leaving Gotham and returning to your home in Goodsprings, you’ve missed Alfred since your graduation night and have thought about inviting him for a weekend visit on more than one occasion.

“Alfie,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper and not caring that the people you hate more in the world know about your nickname for the butler that you came up when you were six.

You move a little so you could hug the man, but quickly remember the “audience” around you.

“Please, come in, Alfred,” you say once you recover, stepping aside to allow the man entry, mold tendrils emerging from your body.

Alfred begins to move, but the instant you notice Bruce trying to enter, you quickly move to block his entry. “Not you. No one but Alfred is allowed in my house.”

“You call this hovel a house,” Damian asks, looking up at your home with visible disgust in his eyes.

“Get the fuck off my property,” you growl, your tone leaving no room for argument. Damian looks to his father, as if he had commanded him and not you. “Don’t look at him, I’m telling you to leave.”

Bruce gives him a nod and the little demon relents, returning to the luxury car parking in front of your house.

“Master Y/N,” Alfred says, returning your attention to him. “There’s no need to be rude. I’m confident I raised you better than that. Surely there’s room in your home for all of us.”

You do your best to suppress the flinch at the butler’s words. Yes, Alfred was the one to raise your during your time at the manor, reinforcing your Momma’s lessons on being polite and courteous, but the thought of these people being anywhere near your house makes you want to puke up your guts and use them to strangle all of them.

“I’ve missed you ever since I left Gotham, Alfred, but there’s no way in hell I’m letting them in the house my Momma raised me in and that I thought about for years. Don’t make me choose between my love for you and my hatred for them. I promise you won’t like the outcome.”

He looks at you and you return his look, the butler clearly mulling over your words before saying, “Alright, if that’s what it takes for us to talk.” He turns to the others crowding around your porch. “The lot of you will wait out here and behave yourselves.”

“Alfred,” Bruce starts to say as Alfred moves towards your door.

“That warning applies to you, too, Master Bruce,” the butler says in a tone akin to that of a parent scolding a kid, which almost makes you laugh, but you suppress the urge, determined not to laugh in front of the people you hate most in this world. “Shall we go, Master Y/N?”

You stand aside to allow Alfred in and throw one last dirty look at the pests on your lawn before slamming the door shut and commanding mold tendrils to emerge from the ground and cover your front door before countless spike-like thorns extend from them, making the message very clear: stay out.

“Your house is quite lovely, Master Y/N,” Alfred complements as he takes a look around, making you swell your chest out in pride. “I can see you take care of it.”

“Thank you, Alfred,” you say as you motion to the living room. “Please, make yourself comfortable. Can I get you anything?”

“A cup of tea, would be lovely if you have it.” He makes his way to the living room before sitting on the sofa, but not before he glances at your supply of junk food and soda. “Honestly, Master Y/N, I know I raised you better than this. Please tell me you haven’t been subsisting off this garbage since you left the manor.”

“No, I eat lots of things,” you retort as you prepare a kettle with earl grey, thankful you keep a box of the butler’s favorite tea just in case he ever dropped by for a visit. “All that is for an anime binge watching marathon I was about to do before you surprised me.”

“So you’ve been eating healthy and nutritious home cooked meals since you left the manor?”

You freeze up at the thought of the all the take-out and fast food you’ve gorged on since coming back to Goodsprings; sure, you’ve cooked at home many times… if you count frozen pizza, instant ramen, and microwave meals as cooking.

“I thought as much,” the butler says after a moment of silence. “Honestly, Master Y/N, you’re as bad as your father and siblings. Lord knows what they’d consume if I left them alone for a month.”

The comparison makes your blood boil and it takes every last ounce of willpower you have not to command the mold underneath your house to lash out at the pests outside in anger.

“I’m more than capable of taking care of myself, Alfred,” you say, some of your anger leaking into your tone. “The Megamycete has the knowledge and experience of countless people, many of them skilled in the kitchen. If I wanted to, I could prepare a five course meal that would make even Gordon Ramsey look incompetent.” The kettle whistles and you quickly take it off the stove, pour some into a mug, and make your way to the living room. “Plus, the Megamycete provides everything I need; I could eat nothing but fast food for a month and I’d never gain any weight or get sick.”

It’s true, the Megamycete sustains your body, making food and water completely unnecessary, so you can go the next hundred years without any kind of sustenance. Although, could you really call life without a burger and milkshake “living?”

“Besides,” you add, placing the mug on the table in front of Alfred before sitting in your favorite chair. “I’m nothing like them. They may be able to go toe-to-toe with people like Bane and Killer Croc on a nightly basis, but they’re complete disasters in the normal world. Hell, I saw Bruce treating tying his tie like defusing a bomb, sweat and all!”

It’s true, your status as the Ghost of Wayne Manor gave you plenty of opportunities to witness such embarrassing moments, your favorite one being watching Bruce struggling with his tie for ten whole minutes before he finally admitted defeat and called for Alfred to help him with it. To see the “mighty” Bruce Wayne be defeated by a mere tie… it put a smile on your face for the rest of the day.

“I didn’t mean any offense, Master Y/N. I have every confidence that you can successfully manage a household and the proof is all around us.” He looks around the living room to emphasize his point before looking at a framed picture on the table next to the sofa. “I take it this is you and your mother?”

The picture is you and Momma at the fall festival the town holds every October. Specifically, it was the last festival you to went to before she…

“Yes,” you answer, breaking out of your depressing line of thinking. “That’s us at the fall festival Goodsprings have every year. It has a pumpkin patch, hayrides, games, and tons of food.”

“It sounds lovely,” he says, gently placing the picture back down. “She looked like a lovely woman. I can tell she loved you and you her.”

“Yeah,” you say, eyes falling to the carpet as you start to think about what little memories you had of her. You lost her when you were so young, so there’s very little actual memories you’re able to recall, making even the smallest recollection more valuable than gold.

“Master Y/N,” the man says, his tone making you look up at him. “I’m so sorry. For your mother’s passing. Losing a parent is never easy, but losing one at such a young age is nothing short of horrific.”

“It’s fine, Alfred,” you answer, trying your best to dam up the tears that threaten to spill from your eyes. “It wasn’t your fault, you weren’t the bastard that decided to drive drunk and slammed into her car. She’s been gone for years and I made peace with the fact that she’s never coming back.”

“But I’m also sorry about how you were treated during your time at the manor. You’re Master Bruce’s firstborn son and you had every right to be there as the rest of them did. No matter what the reasoning, there’s no excuse for their behavior. I should’ve put an end to it when you first arrived.”

(His words ring of sincerity, but they come too late.)

As much as you hate to admit it, the Megamycete’s right, he should’ve said all this years ago when you could still be convinced they were capable of love. After several years and many scorned attempts to reach out to them, you’ve realized the Wayne Family is full of sick and broken misfits who should be locked up in Arkham.

You open your mouth to say something to reassure the poor man, but you quickly realize that you have an eavesdropper. You connect to the roots to see Tim hanging just by your living room window, which faces the front of your house.

With a mere thought, a tendril emerges from beneath the soil and behind the little creep and whips him away from the window before he can even react, Tim letting out a yelp as he flies through the air and lands near the parked car. As the rest of them gather around Tim to help him up and provide whatever protection they think they’re capable of, you decide to add insult to injury and flex the tendril in a way that it looks like an upraised middle finger, telling each of them to fuck off before you command the tendril to return to the soil, holding in your laughter as each of them have a slack jawed expression on their faces.

“But most of all,” Alfred says, bringing you back to the room you’re physically in. “I’m sorry for what happened that night. You were put into a situation you never should’ve been in and we… I almost lost you. Ever since the Megamycete told us what happened, not a day goes by that I curse myself for being away. I assure you had I been at the manor and learned of your abduction, I would’ve tore all of Gotham apart until I found you and brought you back to the manor. And rest assured, those thugs would’ve never hurt anyone else after I was finished with them.”

“I know, Alfred,” you say.

And you do, knowing the man is like Jason Borne, James Bond, a Lara Croft had a baby together and said baby was trained by John Wicke. You can remember seeing the frankly shocking amount of weapons in the butler’s room many years ago and when asked, he said: “Those are to protect the manor and all of you should anyone be foolish enough to break in.”

To be honest, you were surprised that Bruce allowed Alfred to have such an armory given the man’s no-gun rule, but everyone knows that Alfred is the one who really runs Wayne Manor and if the butler wishes to stockpile guns for a zombie apocalypse, then there’s nothing the “World’s Greatest Detective” can do about it.

“And you don’t have to be sorry about that. It wasn’t your fault those three dicks decided to kidnap me and it sure as hell wasn’t your fault that they didn’t save me.” You can feel your anger beginning to rise again. “They didn’t care about me in the first place and left me at the hands of those thugs!”

The memories of that night rush your mind all at once, from the mocking tones of Bruce and the others to the pain the leader inflicted on you.

(And how can you forget being thrown into a cavern in the middle of the woods,) the Megamycete hisses. (You were discarded like trash into a grave no one would ever find, your body left to rot while they would be allowed to live!)

You can feel as numerous tendrils emerge all around your house and the point their massive thorns at Bruce and his bastards, threatening to turn them into Swiss cheese, and despite their defensive postures and reaching for weapons hidden in their clothes, you know you have a high probability of killing them all.

“Master Y/N,” Alfred says, bringing you out of your hate-fueled trance and back to the living room.

Taking a deep breath and releasing it, you recall the tendrils back into the ground. As long as Alfred’s here, you’ll set aside your plans to tear them to shreds and paint Wayne Manor with their blood… for now.

“You have every right to be angry, Master Y/N. You never asked anything of them in the years you lived with us and the one time you reached out, you nearly died. Such behavior is inexcusable.”

“Alfred,” you say with a sigh. “Why are you really here? I appreciate the apologies, but I know you didn’t come here just for that. If it was, you would’ve come alone, or at least told them to stay away while you visited.”

“I had hoped you would allow them to make their apologies in my presence. I know they all came here, one after the other, but they were more determined to bring you back home.”

“But I am home, Alfred,” you respond with a sigh, dredging where this conversation is going. “This was my home before I lost Momma, it was the place I called home when I was in Gotham, and it’s my home for the past four years ever since I graduated. Gotham was never my home, Alfred, and that damn manor sure as hell wasn’t a home, let alone my home!”

“I know how you feel, Master Y/N, I truly do! But—“

“‘But’ what, Alfred? There is no ‘but!’ You know how they treated me! For years, I was either invisible or a nuisance, but I was never family to them! Hell, I wasn’t even someone they tolerated! To them, I was a stain that they couldn’t get rid of, so they just ignored me until I was wiped from their collective memory!”

“But they know they wronged you and wish to make amends.”

“I don’t fucking care what they want! I’m finally back home and doing what I’ve dreamed of doing and just when everything’s going my way, they come in and try to take it all away!”

“But Gotham is your home, Master Y/N,” the butler responds, making you go silent. “I know you only wish to acknowledge your mother’s side, but you are a Wayne as much as you are a Gould! Gotham is the city of the Waynes and it’s where you belong.”

“No, it’s not,” you shout, your voice making the room shake and you feel as multiple mold tendrils burst out from your back as you struggle to contain your anger. “I never belonged there and if it wasn’t for that drunk fucker, I never would’ve been dragged there! It’s the City of the Damned that no decent person with even half a working brain would live in!”

The two of you stare at one another, the only noise in the room being the sound of your taking short, rapid breaths to replenish the breath you lost from your angry rant.

“Am I decent person,” he asks after a while. “Do I belong in that ‘City of the Damned?’”

At first, you wanted to say no, that he’s a kind man who doesn’t belong in a place as terrible as Gotham.

But, there’s a part of you, composed entirely of anger, hatred, and pain, that wants to say yes.

For all the help Alfred gave you, he also enabled Bruce and the others to ignore you and treat you like shit; at any point, he could’ve put his foot down and forced them to give you the bare minimum of attention most children need, but it never happened.

Hell, he was often in the living room watching movies and eating delicious food while you were left in an abandoned part of the manor upstairs, the only thing keeping you company was the sound of your muffled cries and vague memories of a better time, where Momma was still alive.

“I think,” you finally say as you retract the tendrils into your body, your breathing returning to a semi-normal level. “It’s time for you to leave.”

“What,” he asks, his eyes wide like saucers.

“It’s time for you to go, Alfred,” you say, your tone leaving no room for argument.

You stand up and he does as well, but when he makes no move to walk to the door, you gently but firmly grab his arm and walk him to the door.

You’re not surprised to see the peanut gallery when you open the door, knowing they were all listening in the entire time, even though Tim was the only one who made it obvious and you’re even less surprised to see Damian standing on your property again, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

The only thing that matters is putting an end to this.

“Master Y/N,” Alfred says as you move him outside the door and begin to close it. “Please, come home! I waited since the day you left for Master Bruce and the children to notice you were missing! When they didn’t, I had to take matters into my hands.”

You freeze, the door half closed, as the words sink in.

Take matters into my own hands.

What did he mean by that?

No…

It can’t be…

There’s no way…

He wouldn’t…

Right?

“What,” you respond as you open the door, your voice barely louder than a whisper.

“Master Bruce and the children learned of your departure when they discovered my laptop in the kitchen, your game running and the title music blaring for all to hear. I engineered that so they would eventually learn of your career as a game developer; from there, they would realize you had left the manor after graduating high school. I knew their sense of justice would do the rest.”

His words hit you harder than that thug and based off the looks Bruce and the peanut gallery have on their faces, they’re just as shocked as you.

Bruce looks especially shocked, which makes sense as no one ever thought Alfred could be capable of such manipulation.

“So it’s your fault I have to deal with these assholes again,” you say after finding your voice. “If it wasn’t for you, they would’ve still forgotten me and I’d be living my life in peace!” You feel tears streaming down your face, which is now molten hot. “Why, Alfred? Why do that when you know how I felt about them? Don’t you remember all the times you held me in your arms while I cried my eyes out about how they treated me?”

“Of course I do,” he responds, his eyes visibly glossy. “I remember every last tear you shed because of something they did or something they said. But I set all this in motion so you’d eventually be brought home. You’ve belonged at the manor since the moment you were born and I’ll be damned if all members of the Wayne Family aren’t together.”

“You did all this because you’re selfish and want me to live somewhere that made me miserable for years just because I happen to share DNA with this bastard?” You gesture to Bruce, who gawks like an absolute idiot. “I… I hate you.”

All of them, Alfred especially, gasp and their eyes go so wide they look like they’ll pop out of their sockets. Hell, you’re even surprised by your own words; saying that you hate Alfred left an extremely bitter taste in your mouth and you’re actually wanting to take it back.

(Do not,) the Megamycete hisses, clearly pissed beyond words. (He knows the transgressions they have wrought against you and he still orchestrated the reunion of the people who have brought you nothing but misery ever since you were a child. He has betrayed your trust and should never be forgiven for this!)

“Master Y/N,” Alfred says, clearly upset by what you said. “I—“

“I hate you,” you say again, louder. “I hate you ! I hate you! I hate you!”

At this point, all your control and restraint has been destroyed and you don’t attempt to fight it when a tendril emerges from your back and whips the lot of them away from your porch, sending them tumbling onto your lawn.

Your chest is heaving as your anger and sadness fill your entire body until there’s nothing left but those two emotions.

You thought there was nothing worse than losing your Momma, but being betrayed by the man you’ve trusted and depended on for years is a close second and for a moment, you’re six-year-old again, completely helpless as your world crumbles beneath your feet and you’re once again completely alone.

Alone. That sounds like the perfect solution to this problem; if you’re alone, you can’t be hurt anymore and you can completely fall apart and not give these heartless bastards any satisfaction.

Plus, you spent the first part of your life all alone. You’ve been alone since your sixth birthday, so it’s nothing new to you. In fact, you’ve come to appreciate solitude.

You command countless mold tendrils to sprout from the ground and surround your house, covering it to the point where you can’t see the paint.

“Stay away from me, all of you,” you say, your voice cracking while you fight with the last of your mental strength to keep from completely falling apart in front of them. “This is your last warning. Next time I see any of you, I’ll rip you apart, and I won’t give a shit where we are. Do you hear me? I’ll fucking murder you!”

And with that, you turn around and step back in your house, a tendril shutting your door and covering it so no one can enter.

Once you know your house is completely covered in tendrils to the point even a chainsaw won’t be able to cut through, you head up to your room as fast as you can manage in your current state. Thanks to the tendrils covering the windows, it’s pitch black in your room, but you’re more than capable of seeing thanks to the Megamycete.

You shut your door, knowing you most likely cracked the frame from the force of it, and fall to the floor and put all your weight against the door, all your strength gone and your willpower extinguished. You still in the dark, the only noise being your choked sobs.

All you can think about is how betrayed you feel in this moment by the one person on this planet you thought would always have your back.

Alfred was the only thing that kept you going after losing Momma and living in that fucking manor surrounded by the most distant, paranoid, and emotionally-stunted people on the planet.

Once again, you’ve lost the one person who was closest to your heart and you feel like it’s you against the world.

(It is ok,) it says to you in a calming manner. (It is just us. You can fall apart.)

And with that, you allow the soul-piercing sobs to emerge from mouth at maximum volume and tears the size of pearls fall from your eyes.

But this isn’t enough. The sobs and tears aren’t enough to vent the frustrations and sadness you feel in this moment and you look down at your Star Wars shirt, which is barely a step above rags due to the tendrils you’ve created in the last half hour, which has completely destroyed the back of it.

Deciding to write it off so you can properly express the deep sense of helplessness you feel in this moment, you create talons on both your hands and dig into your torso, ripping both the shirt and your flesh, sending scraps of cloth, bits of flesh, and splashes of blood onto your carpet. What remains of your rational mind tells you that you’ll have to replace the carpet and destroy the old one to prevent anyone from finding out what’s happened, but you don’t care.

Right now, you’re hurting and all you want to do is express that hurt in the only way you can think of. Sure, it’s not healthy in any definition of the word, but you’re able to heal from the injuries, so it’s not like you’ll have to deal with any consequences of what you’re doing.

You pierce your talons into the center of your chest and rip it open, blood cascading down your body and pooling around where you’re sitting, and reach into your chest cavity, past your rib cage, until you find what you’re looking for: your heart.

With another sob, you rip the organ out and hold it out in front of you, the little thing still beating despite there being nothing to pump blood into.

One would think ripping out one’s own heart would be a pain unlike any other and seeing it before one’s very eyes would be an extremely frightening sight, but in this moment, you feel nothing. After all sadness, loneliness, and disappointments you experienced for the majority of the last fourteen years, you barely registered the sensation of your heart being ripped out of your chest by your own hand.

Am I incapable of feeling anything but sadness and anger, you think as you look at the organ in your hand, perfectly fine without it being in your body. No matter how fast or how far I run, I’ll never be able to escape the hold those people have on me?

And with that depressing thought, you squeeze the organ until you hear a sickeningly wet splat! and it burst like a balloon, coating your hand in blood and dripping onto the carpet. You allow your hand to fall to the floor and what remains of your heart reassimilating into your hand as your torso begins to stitch itself back together with a new heart eventually emerging and beating as soon as it was complete.

Ever since you became the host of the Megamycete, you’ve noticed that you don’t have the same bodily requirements you once did; you eat despite not feeling any sort of hunger, drink despite not feeling any sort of thirst, and sleep despite never feeling any sort of fatigue. It didn’t take long to realize that the Megamycete provides everything you need, eliminating the need for food, water, and rest and despite its wishes, you often took advantage of this, forgoing eating and sleep for weeks at a time so you could finish the goal you set for the development of your game.

Now, however? You feel like you have no energy left in your body that even lifting your head feels like a Herculean task right now. Physically, mentally, and emotionally, you have nothing left in the tank.

(Rest. Today has been an extremely draining day for you. You need to regain your strength. We will keep watch over you.)

You lean your head against the door and close your eyes, falling asleep immediately.

Bruce looks over to Alfred, who’s sitting in the seat next to him.

Ever since leaving your house after the… incident, he’s been completely quiet and emotionless, despite his and his children’s attempts to get through to him.

Even now, on the jet, he remains silent, but it doesn’t take a world class detective to figure out he’s completely devastated by what just happened. He can tell that he cares about you very much, which isn’t that hard to see why since you weren’t trained in crime fighting and detective work like them, so hearing that you hate him would be similar to a death sentence for Alfred.

“Alfred,” he says, holding the man’s hand in his own. “Y/N didn’t mean that, he was just angry at us for what we’ve done to him and he was taking his anger out on you.”

“He has every right to hate me,” the man says, his voice hoarse from tears not shed. “I should have done better while he was growing up, but I didn’t and now I have to bare the consequences of my failures.”

“We’re gonna bring him back, Alfred. We’ll find a way to beat that damn mushroom in his body and bring him back home. And when we do, we’ll show him the love we should’ve when he was growing up. We’ll make things right… I’ll make things right. And then we can be a family.”

Alfred say nothing and Bruce can feel the weight of this failures quadruple.

I’ll find a way to fix this. I have to. I’m his father. I need to make this family whole again.

And come hell or high water, he’ll bring you back home or die trying.

Tag List: @lunaluz432 @type-ink @bat1212 @eyeless-kun @deathbynarcisstick @orbitingtraveler @1s3v3n1 @roseytheteacup @bunbunboysworld @kitty-from-daaaa-voidddd @feral-childs-word @phoenixgurl030 @soriansick @hellcatsworld @bellethesleepypotato @prettyboys247 @marsmabe @exactlynumberonekryptonite @paolexsstuff @fantasyhopperhea @c0l1fl0r @ellaprime7 @starryperson @kore-of-the-underworld @kiarst @vanessa-boo @moxiemy @ratchetprime211 @greatwhisperspaper @tatsuri-zomushiki @bunbunbread @starsdotalk @luna57765 @solelifauna @jsprien213 @diejager @lizz-lrm @v0idl1nq @chericia @wizzerreblogs @tinybrie @creativechaosx @randomlyappearingartist @ferchu0406 @kik1010 @butterflycardigann @1-800-crazy @im-so-goddamn-tired @twismare

[robbysreaders]

pairing: jack abbot x reader (i think i kept it pretty gender neutral???) warnings: age gap (unspecified, but reader is late 20s/late 40s), not so casual relationship, i know nothing about anything medical so please glance over that lol word count: 3.7k notes: if you are under 18 do not interact also be kind to me, i am not a writer but dr. jack abbot is a menace who i cannot stop thinking about so you all must suffer with me. also my inbox is open for all your screaming needs!

It started out strictly casual. You met on an app, for god’s sake. His profile was short and dry — but something about the line “I work nights. Not here to waste anyone’s time.” made you pause.

You’d been trading messages for a few days — mostly jokes, a few late-night check-ins after his shifts — when he finally asked, “Would you want to meet in person?” He told you he’d had a string of rough nights in the ER. Said he was craving company that didn’t know what "bed four" looked like post-code blue. You didn’t totally know what that meant, but you got the vibe.

Your schedule’s flexible — hybrid job, some travel, some desk work — so you offer a morning coffee at a place you’ve been wanting to try. He shows up looking like hell in the most attractive way: gray tee, tired eyes, rough around the edges but steady. You’re halfway through your latte when you realize you haven’t stopped smiling. He listens like it’s an instinct — intense, unshakable — but cracks jokes that disarm you when you least expect it.

You don’t hesitate when he invites you back to his place. It’s not flashy, not even particularly tidy, but it’s his. He kisses like he’s starving. And then, right before pulling you in again, he murmurs with a half-smile, “Take it easy on me, alright? Been a while. I might be a little rusty.”

You roll your eyes but your stomach flips. He is not rusty.

You feel a twinge of guilt sneaking out later, after he falls asleep. But you both said this was casual. Besides, it’s noon, and you’ve got spreadsheets and emails to wrangle. Still, before you even finish your afternoon calls, you send him a quick, “Had a great time. Hope you get some sleep.”

That opens the door.

What follows is a steady trickle of nothing texts that somehow mean everything. Memes. Podcasts you both like. A random snapshot of his hand scribbled with vitals — “Guess who forgot his notebook again.” You meet up again. And again. Sometimes it’s his place, sometimes yours. One night you share Thai on your couch and you swear you hear him hum when you rub your socked foot against his under the blanket.

You start catching feelings. Hard. And it’s the most grounded you’ve felt in years.

You don’t want to ruin it, so you let him lead. You try not to double-text. You wait a beat before offering plans. When your friends ask why you’ve been so mopey, they start teasing: “You’re in love with your situationship, huh?”

You don’t deny it.

He picks up on it, too. One night, over drinks at a dim bar near the hospital, you’re nursing a beer and dodging his questions about your weekend plans.

You say something noncommittal, too casual. You see it on his face before he speaks.

He sets his drink down a little too hard and says, voice low but clear: “Hey, I don’t know what’s going on, but I don’t play games like this. I’m pushing 50. I know I’m taking up time you could be spending with kids your age, and maybe that’s my mistake. But I like you. I like spending time with you. And if you don’t feel the same — if you’re trying to back off or slow-walk me into fading out — just say so. Don’t drag it out.”

Your stomach drops.

You blink, stunned. “Wait—what? No. Jack—God. You have it backwards.”

He watches you carefully, guarded, already preparing to retreat.

“I’m in too deep,” you say. “That’s the problem. I don’t know how to do casual with you anymore. I want to see you all the time. I’m trying not to scare you off. But if this is just something light for you—if you really want to keep it easy—then yeah… maybe we should take a step back. Because I don’t think I can.”

The silence between you stretches for a beat.

Then he exhales. Long and slow.

And when he speaks again, his voice is softer. “Well,” he murmurs, a small smile tugging at his mouth. “Sounds like we’re both idiots.”

[jungwnies]

f1 grid (2/2) | friendly interactions...or not

୨ৎ : featuring : kimi antonelli, ollie bearman, yuki tsunoda, isack hadjar, and liam lawson + special feature franco colapinto and lance stroll (click here for part one) ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested by @holycastles) : meeting your friends who they seemingly get along with...kinda...not...really?

୨ৎ : genre : comedy / angst if u squint rly rly rly hard ୨ৎ : word count : 2636

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ 10k event | masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : feel free to comment whose was your favorite to read.. i was lowkey starting to run out of names for the friends but i just loved wiritng their personalities so i kept it going fr...

ʚ・kimi antonelli

when you told your friends you were bringing your boyfriend to game night, the reactions were mixed.

“wait, kimi antonelli?” asked clara, confused.

“the f1 one?” said mara. “how old is he again?”

“isn’t he like… twelve?” theo joked.

“relax,” you said. “he’s eighteen. and also my boyfriend, so behave.”

“we’ll see,” your friend josh said with a smirk. “he better be funny.”

“he’s… his own type of funny,” you muttered.

kimi showed up in a hoodie three sizes too big, with sour candy in one hand and a very serious look on his face.

“hi,” he said to your friends. “i brought these because i don’t know how to interact socially without snacks.”

there was a pause.

josh burst out laughing. “dude. same.”

mara blinked. “wait, was that sarcasm?”

kimi tilted his head. “i don’t even know anymore.”

within twenty minutes, the boys were obsessed.

he and josh bonded over bad memes. he beat theo in mario kart and yelled, “get ratioed” at the top of his lungs. at one point he said, “i’m just a little italian guy trying my best,” and for some reason, that sent everyone into hysterics.

“bro, he’s hilarious,” theo whispered to you. “like, weird, but hilarious.”

meanwhile, clara leaned over to mara and whispered, “do you get what he’s saying half the time?”

“no,” mara replied. “but it’s… endearing?”

during a break in the chaos, kimi curled up next to you on the couch.

“i think i accidentally trauma bonded with your guy friends,” he said.

you grinned. “they love you.”

“clara looks like she’s trying to decode me.”

“she’s just trying to understand the words coming out of your mouth.”

he smirked. “relatable.”

later, when you were getting your jacket to leave, you heard josh go, “hey man. game night again next week?”

kimi blinked. “i thought you guys weren’t sure about me.”

“you said ‘skibidi rizzler’ and then roasted theo’s spotify. you’re in.”

mara added, “i don’t get half your jokes, but you clearly love her, so… you’re safe.”

kimi blushed to his ears. “i do. a lot.”

in the car, he looked over at you, cheeks still pink.

“was i weird?”

“yes,” you said, grinning. “but you were also so you. and they liked that.”

he leaned his head back, dramatically relieved. “i was gonna throw up if they hated me.”

you squeezed his hand. “don’t worry, "skibidi rizzler". you’ve been accepted.”

he groaned. “never say that again.”

ʚ・ollie bearman

“i’m warning you now,” you said as you opened the door to your friend's apartment, “just let him talk. he’ll get back around eventually.”

your best friend lina raised a brow. “you make it sound like he’s a glitching npc.”

“he kind of is,” you said. “in a cute way.”

ollie burst in with a wide grin, arms full of snacks, and said, “hi! i didn’t know what people liked so i got crisps—sorry, chips—and cookies, but not the boring kind, like the chunky ones, oh and grapes? don’t know why, i panicked in tesco.”

everyone stared.

then zach went, “dude. grapes are elite.”

and just like that, ollie was in.

it didn’t take long for the chaos to unfold.

“so anyway, i was karting when i was, like, six, and i spun out and—wait, no, that was the time i threw up. different story. but yeah! that was actually at buckmore park—have you ever been there? it’s sick—oh! remind me to show you the video of my crash there. it’s insane—but like, i was fine! mostly.”

your friend jordan blinked. “you good, man?”

“never,” ollie replied with a grin. “but like, in a charming way.”

he was overly polite to your girlfriends — offering drinks, clearing plates, pulling chairs out like an actual prince.

meanwhile, your guy friends loved him. they started egging him on to tell more f2 horror stories and he delivered, with bonus sound effects.

“then the suspension just clonk right into the curb—oh! and i had no radio. like, dead silent. except i was screaming. in my helmet. obviously.”

lina leaned over to you, wide-eyed. “he’s… surprisingly not annoying.”

you laughed. “high praise.”

later, while you were helping clean up, you found ollie in the kitchen with zach, passionately explaining why banana bread is a “top-tier mental health snack.”

“i just think if i was sad and someone handed me banana bread, i’d, like, immediately heal. you know?”

zach nodded, solemn. “you’re so right.”

you walked up behind him and wrapped your arms around his waist.

he startled, turned, then beamed. “oh! i forgot you were here for a second.”

“wow. romantic.”

“i didn’t mean—wait, no, i—ugh. i was just talking about you actually—like in a nice way—not in a creepy ‘i forgot you existed’ way.”

you laughed into his chest. “it’s okay. they love you.”

“really?”

“mmhmm. even lina said you weren’t annoying.”

he gasped. “success.”

ʚ・yuki tsunoda

“are you sure?” yuki asked as you pulled into the driveway.

you glanced at him. “sure about what?”

“meeting your girl group. that’s intense. like—way more intimidating than any race.”

you grinned. “you’ve done monaco. you’ll survive maya, dani, and alina.”

he groaned, already slouching in his seat. “i’m so short. they’re gonna judge me.”

“they’re literally all under 5'6" and alina is obsessed with you.”

that got him to sit up straighter.

the second you walked in, the energy shifted.

“oh my god, he’s so tiny,” dani squealed before even saying hi.

yuki blinked. “that’s rude.”

maya gasped. “wait, he talks back? i love him already.”

you gave him a see? look and whispered, “you’re good.”

but then alina wrapped him in a hug and he straight up hid his face in your shoulder.

“she’s too nice,” he muttered.

the four of you curled up in the living room, snacks out, wine flowing, and yuki slowly relaxing as the evening unfolded.

he told them about japan. about driving. about his new obsession with peach iced tea.

“i had six in one day once,” he said proudly. “i thought i was gonna ascend.”

“you did not just use the word ‘ascend,’” maya laughed.

he shrugged. “i’m multilingual and dramatic. let me live.”

every time you got up to grab something, yuki subtly followed you with his eyes.

when you disappeared into the kitchen for longer than thirty seconds?

“where’d she go?” he asked, shifting closer to the edge of the couch.

“she’s grabbing the popcorn,” alina replied.

yuki stared at the doorway like a lost puppy.

dani whispered, “he’s so whipped. it’s adorable.”

later, while you were all painting your nails and gossiping, yuki laid across the couch, half-asleep with his head in your lap.

alina grinned. “he’s different than i thought. i expected him to be, like… louder.”

you brushed yuki’s hair back gently. “oh, he’s loud. just not when he’s this cozy.”

he mumbled, “i’m awake.”

“you’re drooling on my leg.”

“i’m cozy,” he grumbled.

when it was time to leave, maya kissed his cheek and said, “you’re not allowed to break her heart. or we will break your knees.”

yuki blinked. “i believe you.”

alina giggled. “he’s so soft. i love him.”

as you walked him back to the car, he slid his fingers between yours and murmured, “they’re scary. but nice.”

you laughed. “you were perfect.”

“even when i drooled?”

“especially then.”

ʚ・isack hadjar

“he’s not… like… calm, is he?” your friend rowan asked as they rearranged the snacks on the table.

you blinked. “define calm?”

from the hallway, isack yelled, “babe! i almost knocked over a bike rack trying to parallel park! but we’re good!”

rowan just looked at you. “right.”

isack burst into the apartment like he was walking into a stadium, arms wide, yelling, “where are the friends? i brought vibes.”

everyone stared.

then zara whispered, “…he’s french?”

and isla said, “this is already the best night ever.”

from the jump, isack had no filter. he told a story about a bird flying into his car. he tried to do a backflip off the couch and nearly took out a lamp. he mispronounced “charcuterie” like three different ways — all confidently.

at one point, he shouted, “i love her!” across the room when you handed him a soda, then took a bow.

rowan blinked. “so. he’s like… a cartoon character?”

you just sipped your drink. “you get used to it.”

then it happened.

zara leaned in, voice too innocent. “wait. are you the one who said no no no i destroyed the car?”

isack froze.

you watched the life leave his eyes. “that was… taken out of context.”

“oh no,” rowan said. “it was very in context.”

isla pulled it up on her phone. “it’s literally right here. you’re screaming.”

isack covered his face. “i will never know peace.”

to recover, he stood on a chair and shouted, “i may have destroyed a car, but i will never destroy the vibe.”

the room cheered like he’d won eurovision.

you just watched from the kitchen, shaking your head. “he’s completely unhinged.”

rowan walked by and muttered, “…but kind of iconic?”

later, isack flopped next to you on the couch, breathless.

“do your friends think i’m insane?”

“they know you’re insane.”

he grinned. “do they love it?”

you kissed his cheek. “terrifyingly, yes.”

ʚ・liam lawson

“so he’s the kiwi one, right?” asked your friend jess, pouring sangria.

“yeah,” you nodded.

“should we… like… not bring up australia?”

“please don’t bring up australia.”

twenty minutes later, your friend caleb (who is painfully australian) was in a full-blown shouting match with liam about who invented the flat white.

“i’m telling you, it’s an aussie invention,” caleb said.

liam gasped. “that is the most offensive thing you’ve ever said and i watched you put ketchup on your pasta.”

“it’s tomato sauce!”

“it was definitely ketchup!”

you tried to step in.

“okay! okay. everyone breathe. there is literally no reason for australians and kiwis to beef right now.”

jess raised an eyebrow. “this feels… deeply rooted.”

“it is deeply rooted!” liam shouted, standing dramatically with a tim tam in hand. “they stole our pavlova. they’re trying to erase our dairy-based desserts and caffeinated legacy!”

“it’s meringue!”

“it’s national pride!”

your other friend tash whispered to you, “is this foreplay for them or should we break it up?”

you groaned into your drink. “honestly? bit of both.”

the bickering only escalated when someone brought up rugby.

“they can’t win so they start dragging sports we don’t even play,” liam muttered.

caleb stood up. “say that again.”

liam, still chewing on a cookie: “you heard me, vegemite boy.”

but the thing was… everyone loved him.

even caleb, who was actively trying to wrestle him off the couch at one point, said, “nah, he’s alright. for a sheep-chaser.”

“you’re alright too,” liam grinned. “for someone who puts beetroot on burgers.”

“you shut your mouth.”

at the end of the night, when everyone was finally winding down and swapping memes, jess looked over and whispered to you, “he’s hilarious.”

you nodded. “i know.”

“also, like… weirdly hot when he’s yelling about national sovereignty?”

you sighed. “i know.”

on the way home, liam wrapped his arm around your shoulders and muttered, “you really hang out with aussies on purpose?”

“they’re my friends, babe.”

he fake-shivered. “braver than a new zealander walking into a sydney cafe.”

you rolled your eyes. “you’re never living this down.”

“i stand by everything i said.”

ʚ・franco colapinto

franco walked in with two kisses on the cheek, a lazy smile, and said, “you must be the beautiful friends i’ve heard so much about.”

sahana looked at naya.

naya looked at you.

you gave them both the don’t start glare.

he sat down, complimented someone’s earrings, offered to pour the wine, and said something in spanish that made three of them blink twice.

you facepalmed. “franco.”

“what? i said her hair looked nice.”

“in a very specific way.”

the tension was palpable. your friends were polite, but you could feel the judgement.

sahana leaned over during charcuterie hour and whispered, “he’s too charming. i don’t trust it.”

naya added, “he’s literally the plot of a rom-com. you sure he’s not stringing people along?”

“he’s like this with everyone,” you muttered. “it’s not a threat. it’s a setting.”

the switch flipped when he stood behind you in the kitchen and wrapped his arms around your waist.

his voice dropped instantly, low and soft. “you okay? you look stressed.”

you blinked. “they’re… just feeling you out.”

“do they think i’m going to break your heart?”

you nodded.

he kissed your shoulder. “tell them i’d rather crash every race for the rest of my life than hurt you.”

you turned. “that’s dramatic.”

he smiled. “i’m latin.”

back at the table, he was still charming — but the way he looked at you? totally different.

the flirty act faded when it was just you. he tucked your hair behind your ear. rubbed his thumb along your knuckles when you weren’t speaking. smiled like an idiot when you laughed at your own joke.

sahana clocked it first. she nudged naya.

“that’s not a playboy.”

naya whispered back, “that’s a simp.”

later, as he was helping gather plates, he told maya, “she makes me nervous. that’s how i know i’m serious.”

maya told everyone.

by the end of the night, naya hugged you and whispered, “okay. we were wrong. he’s a flirt, but he’s yours. i get it now.”

you smirked. “i told you. he’s only dangerous if you’re not me.”

franco called from the door, “who’s stealing my girlfriend?”

sahana rolled her eyes. “no one, simp boy.”

ʚ・lance stroll

you warned them.

“i’m serious,” you said as you passed around wine glasses. “do not freak out. don’t mention his family. don’t ask how much his shoes cost. just treat him like a normal guy.”

“babe,” said your best friend jules, “he shows up in aston martin merch and calls that casual.”

“yeah,” taryn added. “if he says the word ‘monaco’ before dessert, i’m walking out.”

lance showed up five minutes later with a bottle of actual champagne and said, “sorry i’m late, the plane got delayed.”

you stared at him. “you could’ve just said traffic.”

he blinked. “oh. right. yeah, traffic.”

your friends whispered like you brought home royalty. which, honestly, you kind of did.

the beginning was a little awkward.

lance was polite — very polite — like he'd been trained to charm people in formal wear.

your friends tried. they really did.

“so… you race cars?” jules asked.

“yeah,” lance nodded. “it’s fun.”

“that’s it?”

“well, sometimes it sucks. but yeah. mostly fun.”

but then he relaxed a little. started laughing when jules made a terrible pun. started teasing you for how you eat your pizza. started joking about crashing a scooter once because he saw a cat and “needed to know if it was cute.”

taryn blinked. “okay, wait. he’s kinda funny.”

you grinned. “told you.”

it all went well — until brunch plans came up.

jules asked, “wanna do that rooftop place this sunday?”

lance shrugged. “we could also just fly to monaco for the day. the brunch at hotel de paris is better.”

everyone stopped breathing.

you slowly turned to him. “lance.”

“what?”

jules whispered, “did he just offer to casually jet us to monaco for eggs?”

lance blinked. “you guys don’t have passports?”

later, as he helped carry leftovers to the car, taryn grabbed you by the arm.

“i judged him too fast.”

you raised a brow. “because he’s nice?”

“because he’s a golden retriever in gucci.”

you laughed. “he’s a little ridiculous.”

“he’s also so obsessed with you it’s scary. keep him.”

lance, from the car: “are we bringing the rest of the wine or should i—wait, i’ll just buy more. never mind!”

you sighed. “see what i mean?”

2021-2025 © jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[jazeswhbhaven]

A Lazy Man's Body Pillow | Belphegor Attacker | Summary | SPOILERS

Hey y'all! Like the fancy thing I did with the above banner? Ngl the hardest part was compressing the damn thing because I apparently made it way to fucking large lol But anyways, it seems this time around a lot of y'all were able to get his card which shows some promise that the gacha rates have changed? Maybe?? We'll seeeeeeee

Usually I do the entire "summary then screenshot" thing but I realized that format works better for exclusive cards than ones we're gonna see in 3 months. So we're back to my, "screenshots with commentary" format. Let's hope I can do this with only 29 screenshots 😭

Let's kick it off with

So it seems that MC has won some kind of "lottery", but there's no foolin' MC when it's very blantantly written on the back of the ticket that the host Kingdom is Niflheim and it didn't take much for Beleth to admit that he did some slick shit just so he could go on....

checks notes

v a c a t i o n .

Now, I love Beleth. Love me some him. But I'll be damned if he sets me up randomly to babysit his lazy ass King/Husband (I don't make the rules). But oh well we're fucking here, would of been nice if you, idk just asked me, Beleth 💀

So we get some lore about how Niflheim's palace works! We were told that it was militaristic, cutthroat and what not. Turns out it's ran like a huge office, everyone pushing paperwork, moving around boxes, they even have departments and they have to get Belphie's approval of things.

It has me wondering honestly why they're so busy? Like in each country I've noticed there's paperwork to file or sign and I'm just like please don't let Hell be like this if it exists because I'd cry like wtf I died to leave this shit on Earth not relive it again??? lol

But what I really noticed is that Niflheim has these cute demon cats similar to Harumon running around and earning their keep. I wish my cats could get a job and help with these bills they rack up.

there goes my baby......

AHEM

I mean...hi, hello here to work part-time because I can't be bothered to work full-time because idk unless you want me to work full-time where I'm your secretary 😏😏😏

So after Belphie pretty much half-assed explained where the breakroom and offices are in the palace, here's Vassago! Though he seems like he's pretty chill, I can sense he's actually annoyed that he has to monitor MC and "train" them. It reminds me of starting a new job and the mentor they set you up with is either overly excited or basically acts as if they don't want to be there. Or you get that rare one who's happy as fuck to mentor you because that means they don't have to do what they were normally doing.

Also, it seems that tension between Agares/Vassago and the Niflheim crew is evident. He respects Beleth and Belphegor's titles but when it comes to loyalty it's always gonna be to Agares.

FOR NOW THO

And during this little interaction, Belphie gets tired of them talking so much so he pretty much yeets MC's clothes off. No one cares though because they're too busy working.

Here is the first instance of Belphie not caring about MC's feelings or comfort. I imagine most folks would not just wanna be striped naked in a epicenter of busy office workers. All because....we were talking too much? 😭 P L E A S E

I won't lie though, separating myself from MC-

if that man wanted to shut me up, this is way to do it 💀

Vassago tellin' it like it is. "Ain't nobody said nothin' 'bout y'all bein' treated like guests" had me cackling because he basically said "Bitch you thought...."

Vassago got the time. Don't mess with him.

So now we're back to MC being naked, and ofc they hate it so they ask for clothes. The only thing available to fit them is a maid uniform (I'll showcase both fits for fem and masc mc in another post) because that's what Belphie likes.

freak

I know somethin' else that will fit real nice too, *sips tea*

with his smug ass lookin' face.

And it's funnier because if you remember in Levi's maid card...he's the one that gave him the maid hentai book in the first place so we already know why he likes that maid outfit....

also....notice how no one else has to wear it?

this is on purposssseeeeeeeeeeee

And now we get to the part where Belphie leans on MC asking for them to carry him. I always wondered if we could carry him??? I imagine devils are way heavier and the gravity works differently in Hell, like maybe a lot of things are heavier than usual? Or maybe lighter? In this universe Hell seems to be in a completely different realm/planet than Earth instead of that "underground" theory.

With that being said, I'm pretty sure we're able to carry him, but he's still fucking heavy since the description says MC was five times slower than Vassago. And on top of that he's telling MC where to go...which is the least he can do considering they can't keep up with Vassago lol

I also like the little attitude he gets if you get mouthy with him. But the thing about it, is that once again MC yields to it 😭 like I wanna know what happens if you just dropped him on the floor 💀

Now we've made it to where MC has reached a dining room. Vassago in so little words said that MC was going to be feeding Belphie, and how to be a perfect subordinate. We even get a cameo from Agares, and Vassago immediately goes into servant mode showing MC how it's done.

And then-

I'm sorry y'all but I lost it when he started doing this....

First....feeding him, making sure his glass is full and then he pretty much starts fingering me during????? AND SAYS ITS WARM AND PERFECT TO TAKE A NAP BETWEEN YOUR THIGHS HELLO???

I fear I would crumble

A funny part though is that MC tried to protest, and Vassago was like don't you fucking dare >__> because he instructed them to only speak when spoken to lol

I'm enjoying Vassago rn because he really is that guy. Like don't make his job harder than it needs to be and he doesn't have to chide as much.

And this really shows when MC is told to strip naked and clean the stairs, no underwear either????

Vassago literally says that's MC's job as a maid, and Belphie was no help, basically only stating to take off their clothes and clean the stairs.

damn we strict here ain't we?

I'd like to pause and talk about MC's dynamic with Belphie real quick. Clearly, Belphie's way of interacting with MC is that they are simply just someone to clean, cater, and do what he says just like the rest of his subordinates around him. There's no special treatment, no favor, no anything. For once we get to see a different perspective of how Belphie treats them versus any one else. Satan, Mammon, Lucifer, not even Leviathan would make MC clean their palace naked. Asmo? Well...the only reason they'd be naked is...lol I believe Belphie is actually the only King that doesn't show MC any special bias. I mean even Beleth pretty much skiddadled the fuck outta there once it was clear that MC couldn't leave and he was officially on vacay. And I can understand exactly why....this is how things run in Niflheim and in the event the devils of this region were even thrilled to get a day off if Belphie won the contest. NOW compared to how he acted toward MC when he wins the contest versus now, could very much have to do with the circumstance, and tbh it could of happened before or after or this is a completely different timeline altogether. If y'all remember Beel's selfie card, he treated MC very poorly as if he had no idea who they were and even belittled them for a "lack of experience". Certainly though, that was probably a "clone" of his or it was the real Beel and he just hadn't met MC yet prior to.

Going back to Belphie's card though...and MC cleaning the stairs naked....we get another cameo....

DRE IN THE HOUSEEEEE

So yeah ofc he didn't care MC was there naked, he literally can't see them. But I'm pretty sure he's aware they are there on the stairs since he walked past them no problem.

I laughed here because MC's thigh sweat or pre-cum whatever the hell it was dripped on the floor and Dre was like 🤨🤨🤷‍♀️ and just left. He does NAWT careeeeee lmao

If we're being honest he probably smelled them too. But as per usual he's got his mind on other things. No time for whatever foolishness is goin' on here.

Also, to mention that MC says that they felt putting on the maid outfit rewired something in their brain to where even though they are embarrassedthey still wanted to do whatever Belphie ordered them to do.

imma be honest, for me it would be because i'm tryna get that dick so yeah i'll listen....he already stuck his fingers in the coochie so let's gooooooooooo

And Belphie does more shit that I like....because he play around too much.

-While getting him dressed, he had a hard on just out and about -MC was being told be focused and silent while serving tea and he just comes up and grabs them in their chest to get them to make a noise

LIEK STOP PLAYIN' WITH ME BRO I WILL LITERALLY just do nothing and let you do it I'm weak just please keep touching me.

Bathin was concerned about MC being there, and Gusion clocked MC's ass and was like "Yeah you like this shit don't you?"

He claims it's because there's always patterns he can read where can tell immediately if someone is "that type" that claims they hate something but they really like it.

he would have clocked me on a lot things then because damn

"Ha, caught yo ass." 💀💀💀💀💀💀

But then both he and Bathin realize quickly that this is all a roleplay to Belphie based off the maid hentai series he owns. So remember what I said earlier? Yup it's confirmed...he's really just doin' this shit on purpose to fulfill the fantasies of one of his favorite series.

It has me wondering.....how many other series he would play out and how many cosplay outfits he has for that playtime....

Belphie a freak and I like it.

Hol' up, how we get here???

Glad to tell y'all.

Vassago came up in the hallway, to much of Gusion and Bathin's distaste...and told MC the rules of putting Belphie to sleep. Bathin and Gusion in so little words told MC that Beleth is really the only one who can deal with Belphie's horrible sleeping habits and "good luck with that". At 10 pm exactly, everyone locked their doors in the entire palace.....

literally me if I were MC because what the hell is going on.....

So there is MC, taking out their notebook to write down what Belphie does in his sleep, only to then doze off because they're rightfully tired...and then bam there's Belphie jackin' it in front of them.

NOW ME y'all already know what time it would be.

locked in, mouth wide open, ready to serve customer service. *plays cupcakke songs in the background*

So our boy is a leaker, and for this part here, MC is basically sitting there in the dim light watching him stroke himself and he's like half-awake. The way that it's described that the room is hot, smells like him, and MC is sweating has me being like "damn probs humid as fuck in that room but aight"

And then...Belphie suddenly realizes that MC is in the room with him. And because of that now all hell has broke loose.

Okay well you ain't gotta ask me twice, I'll spread whatever hole I have available sir.

YESSIIIRRRRRRRRRRRRRR

cumhole, cumslut, cumdumpster, whatever you need I'm available 24 hours for ya.

He even tells MC to swallow it....like????? he even threatened to get Vassago to come in if MC kept hesitating and I'm just imagining a pissed off Vassago coming in being like "Look bitch if you don't get this shit right, it's bad enough I have to come in here...." 💀💀💀💀

This was right after he said he would make sure MC had something to put down in that journal.......

He starts pushing MC outside the room, in his half-dazed state....which I'm like wait this is like a sleepwalking wet dream omg or....a play on sonophilia where you're fucking but still asleep. (which I've written beforeeeeeee with Amon! and for a different fandom, Nanami actually from JJK)

But anyways, we get some lore with how Belphie usually is at night time. He wanders around the halls of the palace ranting like he's drunk, or thinking there's an angel going around, just basically causing trouble and everyone locks themselves up during his bad sleep habits. I imagine he does this every goddamn night so that's why everyone is shut in their offices at 10pm.

Gusion is concerned about working overtime and getting off early, Bathin is planning to use Harumon to move MC somewhere else if it gets bad, and then there's Vassago.....thinking about how he's going to give Agares ripe oranges in the morning😭

Bless him.

MC asked how far they were going, Belphie stops and starts making out with them....love me a man who doesn't care that his spunk is all in your mouth and tongues you down like he did.

f u c k

Now this is him suckin' on some titties....and I'm just like MISSED OPPORTUNITY TO MAKE HIM AN EATER RIGHT NOW LIKE???? MOVE YA HEAD LOWER???????

He'd be such a lazy ass with eating you out or giving head but at least he'd do it because he's half asleep and horny as fuck.

Tellin' MC they can't clean right, they can't smile right or doing anything correct but got them bent over and losing their mind.

these backshots about to go crazy

And like??? I'm not even mad at how he's doing this....dude has a warped idea of what a maid is based on his favorite series and he's playing that out foreal.

And here, his philia came into play. He says that MC tryin' hard to work givin' it their all and going above and beyond turns him on more than anything else in the world. And I'm just like oh....so that's what this is like...

ooooo weeeee

Yes'm. I know, lemme show youuuuuuuuu 💖💕🥴🥴😌

he's so hot I can't stand him y'all

I levitated.....

this was after MC begging him to put his dick in, and him asking why they were begging....and hfuankjxnf,ajnxfkanlf

DAMN HIM

HELP

And then he told MC to stable themselves cause they were movin' too much. After, MC grounds themselves and he starts fucking them FASTER and deeper

Like.....

He even starts smackin' their ass and telling them to talk cause he likes it, but he wouldn't be listening. (shit, like I'll ramble and moan all day if he's drillin' how he was...)

And BITCH

he told them to stop ordering him around, pulled that thang out said that HE was the master and slipped it right back in. WHEN I TELL YOU SOMETHIN'

that shit was hot as fuck and I need him

GAWD THAT FUCKING FACE FUCK

AND he was that focused and thrusting with effort? PHEW I just know those backshots were astronomical

After that he has MC fuck themselves on him...and then when MC was losing themselves he started smacking their ass again, going faster, and when I tell you he rode that orgasm out to the end of time?

he wore himself and mc out

I'm tellin' y'all I needed a cigarette, I need a drink, I needed an edible SOMETHING after reading that because phew.

I don't really bother to self-insert in most otomes and stories, but during this spice? I had to and it was an experience.

Now going to the climaxxxx

Belphie is all cute bein' like "carry me darlin'" and just falls asleep on top of MC and MC just falls asleep naked on the floor with him. They end up in Belphie's room in his bed and Beleth is there just smilin' and shit.

He explains that he knows Belphie's sleep schedule right down to the days and that last night happened to be one of his "relief" nights meaning that he has a cycle. And usually Beleth just knocks him out, which sounds like he punches him?

Now, I've noticed here that PB doesn't really do the whole "confirming cxc content" but I'm gonna go a whim and assume that Beleth does in fact fuck Belphegor sometimes during these relief nights. Beleth also has special conditions when it comes to sex so the punching Belphie to sleep method also makes sense.

Then, Belphie does a cute thing and pulls MC in like a pillow and says he knows they aren't a pillow because none of them are as nice as MC's body so there was no need to explain nothin' to him.

He's super adorable when he's not being a little shit, huh?

AND THAT'S THE END FOLKS!

Overall Score (unbiased): 9.5/10!

This score is because the smut writing really has gotten a little better since the beginning of this game. Now others will have different opinions on this, but I at least noticed some improvements on that front. Also, because I just didn't really care for MC having to be run ragged like they were and Beleth just yeeting them to the void like that. But oh well, it just shows that not every devil or fallen angel we meet is gonna be biased to treating MC a certain way and that within itself is refreshing.

Now when it comes to self-insert purposes, I suspect that the majority would not like like Belphie treats MC at all. This is understandable, but this is also part of his character that I like. Pretty much everyone is on the same level to him in terms of usefulness and that's that. You gotta work hard to earn his favor, and clearly that seems to work out toward the end when he's snuggling up to MC like he is.

Also when you think about it, a niche roleplay based off your fave series can only be used with someone you particularly like, which means he felt that MC would fit this role instead of one of his subordinates, and he puts MC on the same level as Beleth because I'm very certain he has Beleth do some cosplay shit with him.

Plus Beleth would look bangin' in a maid costume.

Now if y'all want my BIASED opinion, this card is 100+/10 because I liked Belphie doing his weird shit during the maid thing, him barking orders that were half-assed or sometimes direct, and then the fingering under the table thing....

i'm sorry that just does something to me.

plus...all of this...the theme and the superiority thing reminds me of Sukuna from JJK and he would definitely humiliate you too just like this for amusement.....and idk I'm a Sukuna stan so...😩

The next post will be about his likability chats, a link to peek at his adore mode, and I'll be talking about his date story! So stay tuned. Again thank y'all for any interactions, reading my rambles and summaries and I hope you enjoyed his card like I did ^^ -yourlovelyadmin Jaze(✿◡‿◡)

[yetrop]

Good Omens is autistic—here’s why!

First off, there’s the angelic/demonic nature of the protagonists

They’re trying to blend in with humanity, but have to pick things up as they go along

Because of this, the way they interact with and view people is different from the expected norm

Which also means they're often confused by human customs and find it difficult to read social cues (think Aziraphale asking Maggie if she actually thinks she isn’t crying later on in this scene)

Crowley has to hide his eyes, a part of his identity, from everyone except Aziraphale and the other demons for fear of seeming different/threatening/not human (masking in the most literal sense of the word)

Muriel is concerned with acting and speaking “correctly” to be seen as human

Even though both main characters don’t fit in with humanity because of their angelic/demonic nature, they also don’t fit in with their respective sides, who view them both as strange and don’t understand them. The only place they find acceptance/belonging is with each other. If that isn’t a neurodivergent (and very queer) storyline, I don’t know what is.

Next up, there’s Aziraphale as a whole

The way he stims

Loves routine, dislikes change

Gets uncomfortable when he has to break rules/disrupt order

Taking things literally— “You can’t drive my Bentley.” “I can— I have a license!” (also, this scene is another example of his insistence on order and rules— he insisted on getting a license before they were even legally required)

Paces back and forth talking to himself, planning out what he’s going to say before a conversation (scripting)

The way he suppresses stimming around Heaven by clasping hands behind back, feels uncomfortable and overstimulated there

Bookshop is super cluttered, he has an organizational system that is comprehensible to basically exclusively him

Clumsy, often sucks at motor coordination

Easily startled

He loves alone time, especially when he’s in his own space— he does everything he can to keep customers away from his bookshop

Attaches a lot of sentimental value to inanimate objects (“I’ve kept this in tip-top condition for over 180 years!”)

Incredibly passionate about his interests, especially magic and books

Black and white thinking and rigid morality— He loves and trusts Crowley more than the other angels, but still has tendency to categorize Heaven, Hell, angels and demons as exclusively good or bad (“of course you didn’t go back to Hell— you’re the bad guys!”)

Crowley’s definitely got something neurodivergent going on too (leaning towards ADHD, but potentially AuDHD)

The way he sits in chairs

Hell, (…or Heaven, whatever…) even just the “ducks!” moment alone is enough to show that that his mind jumps around a lot to unexpected loose threads rather than focusing on the subject at hand

Impulsivity

Creative and has a vivid inner world. As pointed out by God Herself, he has what the other demons don’t— an imagination

Craves novelty, frequently changes appearance

Stimming starmaker

This one is from the book, but it’s too good not to point out: the way he idolizes characters like Bond and copies his behaviors off of what he thinks a cool human would do. He has a new computer because it’s “the sort of thing Crowley felt that the sort of human he tried to be would have” (pg 239)

His understanding of how humans fall in love is based on a Richard Curtis film he’s seen

His insistence on asking questions when things don’t make sense to him, knowing why things are the way they are rather than blindly accepting them

And of course, there’s the themes of the story

Black and white thinking vs shades of grey

Breaking away from a world that doesn’t accept you to find love, belonging, and safety

And, as demonstrated time and time again by our two protagonists: intelligence isn’t synonymous with interpersonal skills (…or common sense.)

Thanks for reading all of that! This isn’t the kind of post I normally make, but I have so many thoughts about this that have been on my mind for almost two years now, so I decided to share them.

While there are of course a lot of plot-related reasons for why they behave the way that they do and many of the traits I brushed on could be explained by other factors, I still find it interesting to explore it through a neurodivergent lens. I also think the existence of angels with physical disabilities (like Saraqueal) adds credibility to the idea that other types of disabilities or neurodivergence is at the very least possible for angels and demons in this universe.

Feel free to point out anything I forgot to include (which I have no doubt is a lot) and let me know your own thoughts in the comments or tags— I’d love to hear them!

[ilajue]

unfortunatly, this post definitely did reach people who had different opinions and they responded with very individualistic, strawman reasoning (including fat people riding the bus will significantly increase cost of repairs???) If you do end up in a conversation where you want to evangelize anti-car ideas, here are my favorite talking points for people who really like cars:

economic benefits: less cars on the road means less road maintenance, highway removal means releasing taxpayers from the burden of upkeep, the cost of owning a car is extreme and continuous, especially because they are depreciating assets. People love saving money. There is a lot of research out there about how much the individual consumer pays to maintain car-centric society. ALSO most of our cars are manufactured outside of the us and building and maintaining transit creates jobs.

health benefits: this one is literally infinite because cars are so so bad for out health. they release harmful air pollutants that are associated with heart disease and respiratory problems. A more mobile society is also going to have less issues with obesity because more people are walking around. Mention people who move to Europe and immediately shed weight because suddenly travel means moving your body instead of sitting in a bucket seat for 30+ minutes a day. (depending on your audience, you can also mention how black Americans experience WAY more of their fair share of these issues because of the way racism is baked into our physical systems) ALSO don't be afraid to talk about how car centrism makes emergency vehicles worse, I think its a really strong point. not just bikes has a fire video about it.

quality of life: a little more abstract but generally, sending time in a car is unpleasant and isolating. being stuck in gridlock is a universal experience. driving requires you to be focused and prevents you from interacting with the people and environment around you. This one just kind of boils down to "having to see and drive and hear and dodge cars all the time just sucks for everyone" which can be a harder sell, but you can do it if you really believe it.

Cars are extremely dangerous: Cars are ginormous, multi-ton metal machines. We accept the risk of car crash every time we drive but literally around 40k people die from car accidents a year and that is a diabolical number. (again, if audience relevant, you can bring up how this is an issue of race) Cars are so dangerous and only getting worse and car hoods get higher, people get worse at driving, and we become more car-dependent in otherwise densely populated spaces. Everyone knows someone who's been in a car accident. My friends have been hit by cars, hit people with cars, had their cars hit by other cars, etc. If you don't have friends, I'm your friend, and I've been hit by a car and in 4 accidents where I was not at fault. If it comes up, you can even think about mentioning how issues like impared driving are so prevalent in north America because its literally the only transportation option (tred carefully there though, I am not advocating for drunk driving lol)

my best advice for convicing people about stuff (not just negative impacts of cars) is to try to meet them at their level, with their logic. If someone only cares about rural mobility, bring up how transit used to serve rural areas before most bus systems became privatized. Don't start talking about urban asthma rates if they don't care about it. Hear them out, understand their priorities, then show how those priorities can be better met in a cleaner, safer, more mobile society.

Note! I am american and unfortunately can only speak on the issue from an american/canadian perspective because we are very car-centric here (to the detriment of quality of life, health, and mobility) These are my points for people who really only care about whats impacting them directly, which is not an indictment of character since life is extremely hard and demanding under capitalism.

There are way way more reasons why I don't like cars (racial equity; global labor exploitation; environmental damage; environmental damage again because literally cars are the largest carbon producers if you look at production, use, and disposal combined; they literally make cities so hostile to life) that are too long to put on here but please send me asks about anything mentioned here and I will write you the declaration about it. thank you for coming to my ted talk I love you

tldr: sometimes its hard to convince people cars may not be great, because we are so dependent on them and in the us especially we are conditioned to be individualistic. Focus on economic benefits, health benefits, quality of life improvement and safety because they are basic concerns most people hold for themselves and their families.

smoking that shit that makes you cry about the horrors of car-centric infrastructure

[meanbossart]

Ask compilation: Art & advice! Reference use, light, facial expressions and sketching.

Replying to a few miscellaneous comments & questions about my process, with a giggle thrown between every other question for good measure!

Hey! Sorry, I just post them as they are 😅 Can't say I've ever had any issues regardless of size.

That is HYSTERICAL and honestly with the amount of "I don't play bg3 but I follow you anyway" messages that I get, I hope I'm not accidentally giving people the wrong idea 😂

Thank you so much for the kind message!

Anything, really! I use Virtamate whenever I'm really struggling with perspective or an angle, or sometimes something as simple as stock images from google (especially for furniture and interiors) I do also use myself as reference a lot, particularly for hands. Admittedly you do get to a point where you need reference less and less, and can pull poses and anatomy out of imagination pretty easily but you never completely cut it out of art. Reference is a tool just like paper and brushes are, not a crutch.

For angles/perspective and poses (to a degree), yes! Absolutely. It is a wonderful tool that has paid its cost over a million times for me, personally.

I do NOT suggest referencing off its anatomy, however! If you already have a good grasp of how real bodies move, sure, you can use it without issue and just "fix" the anatomy as you draw, but virtamate's models, while more malleable than most 3d figures, still suffer from the usual limitations of it's medium. Musculature and fat in particular do not operate very well alongside said model's movements and don't look very accurate to life.

I will not rest until I have normalized toes.

Thank you so much!

Unfortunately, that is something I genuinely don't use reference for - well, kind of! I pretty much walk through the world making a mental note of how things look and how I would translate that visual onto (digital) paper if I had to. And I think I do that the most with light and shadow.

Light application largely comes from from understanding 3 things:

-Dimensions/planes. -How different materials reflect/absorb said light. -✨DRAMA✨

I suggest studying art from monochrome artists and comic illustrators and seeing how they manage to create the illusion of multidimensionality with a very limited palette. Drawing a lot of figures with only black and white also helps - that was pretty much my entire comic career prior and probably what I am to thank for my current understanding of light placement.

Watching and studying movies and shows that make use of colorful, dramatic lighting also helps a lot - Nicolas Winding Refn has honestly taught me so much just by watching his flicks!

Thank you! I have indeed been trying a couple of different things and I'm glad that you noticed it and that you enjoy it!

Thank you! I'm happy to say I plan on drawing much more of her as well 😇 at least as soon as I recover from the last comic!

Hello, happy to have inspired you even a little bit to get back on the horse!

I think referencing from yourself/real pictures of people's faces is always best, even if your style is pretty cartoony or simplified. That way you can actually take note of how facial muscles work and apply that understanding to your art when you create expressions from memory. Start detailed and then work your way down, removing elements until you are happy with the results!

Paying attention to moving faces when you see/interact with people is also useful. I often say this, but just looking at the world through the lens of an artist can be immensely helpful - taking mental notes of small details and later applying them to what you do, that sort of thing!

I first type them down in (usually) Times Roman and then trace it for that pencil-ed in look!

Hello, hope you are well yourself!

I have this post here that might help you a little visually, but I guess you are more curious about the inbetween stages of that first draft and the final art. I think a lot of it is muscle memory! I can move onto lineart pretty reliably after 1 or 2 sketches for most things, occasionally I will need 3 (not counting when I just change something entirely - that obviously requires the process to start over again for that element) but that hasn't always been the case!

However many sketches you want to do is however many you need, and depending on your art style and process that can vary wildly. Just try not to boggle yourself down with perfectionism - I'm sure you've noticed by now that, sometimes, when you draw something over and over again trying to get it "right" you end up sucking the life out of it. It can actually good to turn your brain off a little bit and TRY to line in the details on the fly, not only will you build confidence over-time but you may arrive at some really fluid shapes and movements as a result!

[what-even-is-thiss]

Hey Roman, how are you doing? I'm not sure how to put this, but I've been following you for a while, and I've seen you've been struggling. I'm sort of in a similar boat, and I figured it might help if someone asked how you're doing.

I’m just kind of in a state of limbo right now. None of my job applications are getting a response and I stopped trying to date because I wasn’t getting anywhere with that either. My grandparents also aren’t well enough to drive me to church anymore so my social interaction is at a minimum. I’m also really nervous about what’s happening in my country right now. I’d sort of like to leave as a precaution but I don’t have any money for relocation so until I get a job, even looking for a school or job outside of the US in a country safe-ish for trans people isn’t really in the cards. The weather is also getting hot again where I live so I can’t go outside much anymore and I’m still getting used to my new health problems. Also all of my old t-shirts seem to be developing large holes in them all at once for some reason.

I’m grateful for the things that are good though. I was really depressed for a while when I first moved back in with my dad but we’ve got some cats now which are really giving me a sense of purpose lately and because of them I’m rarely depressed anymore. I also have friends I can text and a tumblr community I can share my midnight thoughts with. I also just spent my tax return on a cheap new bed frame and mattress which is way more comfortable and less noisy than the old ones I had that were literally stabbing me. I’m also safe and have food and a roof over my head and a family that wants to support me which is more than a lot of people have. I’ve also still got my faith which helps keep me together at least sometimes.

So in short I feel really stuck and lonely right now but it could be worse and I’ve just gotta trust that something is gonna happen eventually even though waiting for that unknown is kind of eating away at my insides.

[sightseertrespasser]

i think my favorite part is kind of just how it.... unfolds? it feels so natural. little bits and pieces accumulating into misunderstandings and understandings. people talking to eachother, just about whatever happens to come up. it very rarely to never feels like exposition, just a part of the world, and they are in it. the character interactions all feel in character and authentic, the way things have changed in this AU make so much sense, and all the little touches that add up together for the perfect blend of culture shock and misunderstanding. i LOVE crossover, outsider POV, isekai/transmigration, any kind of "this is not how its supposed to be, what is going on?" type stories but most fail to really properly draw out the premise. things are revealed too soon, or it feels too hamfisted how quickly or how long it takes, the flow isnt natural. the story either closes its eyes to drag it out, or skips over the shock entirely. this does neither. prowl has NO reference for jazz, and jazz has no reference for cybertronians. he is incredibly stressed, physically and mentally, and now that its come in the reality is terrifying and unsustainable, and he has to hope, he has to HOPE that this outwardly cold and calculating person he has just met will care enough, not just to keep him alive but keep him living. prowl will now have to deal with holding jazz life in his hands in a way so much different and yet so much more intimate than almost anyone else he has ever handled, and it will be work, constant, unending work.

i end up in a rereading rabbit hole because i think about the scene before that led to this scene, and the scene before, and the scene before, and each one is so satisfying alone but i go :DDD thinking about how we got there.

honestly, i know odds of survival cant continue forever, but damn if i dont wish it could

Man, that’s all just amazing to me. I’m so happy you like all the little hints and build up that goes into the big moments because that’s some of my favorite stuff to do.

Usually when I write, I’ll have the elements involved in the Big Moment already in mind and then work backwards to seed the clues throughout the lead up to have a greater payoff.

For one mini example, Prowl grumbling about his therapist which helped lay the groundwork for Rungs appearance in the story.

Additionally, it’s really, really fun looking at situations from different perspectives depending on the character and working out what they would and wouldn’t think of. For another example, Prowl is very quick to think that Jazz could be crashing, because he frequently experiences crashes.

Similarly, writing misunderstandings is a ton of fun when there’s legitimate reasons for two characters to have wildly different perspectives on something. There’s a saying that goes “you’re characters don’t know what genre they’re in.” And I want to write characters that are genuinely acting intelligently with the information they have available.

(Which is also why I had to give Jazz a concussion because otherwise he probably would’ve been waaay less complacent about a practical stranger leading him into unknown locations.”)

Jazz and Prowl dancing around their misunderstanding of each other was pretty difficult, as I personally hold that Prowl can solve any puzzle given enough time and that Jazz can make his own solution to any puzzle given enough time.

They’re both smart as hell, so as the writer I basically had to narratively trap them like rats in a maze to get the confrontation I wanted at the right moment.

Fun times and I’m glad it paid off!

[prapaiwife]

Charlie's insecurity summary kinda lol

The way Willy was so confident in how basically babe wouldn't be loyal to Charlie. And yet babe shut that down so fast basically saying like Charlie is an exception he's different. There is no other person that could even try as he was trying so hard this whole episode and more episodes to come it seems! But we know for a fact that babe is not even looking at anyone else nor wants anyone else. But it's Charlie's insecurity and babe basically pointed it out even if he didn't know it. To Charlie he knows that babe can leave him and have anyone he wants because he's a pit babe. But in this case specifically with willy and babe teasingly saying things like Willy is even better than Charlie on the race. Like it's just giving Charlie more of a reason to feel unsettled and uneasy.

That with the fact of babe starting to lie to him and basically intentionally keeping from him his interactions with Willy. It's just going to build up more and more and it's not going to be pretty. Because yeah they tease each other and for the most part they kind of brush it off. But what he says here specifically to Charlie is staying with him because Charlie can tell if he meant it intentionally or not and that is the problem. Charlie waited up for him and asked him more than once to see if he would tell him the truth and he didn't. Cause I do think Charlie trust babe and wants to believe him and that he will just tell him the truth. Because they should be way past the point of lying to each other. And I think especially for Charlie because of the fact that he knows the things he did not tell babe the truth about. Even though they're all out of good reasoning it left a scar and I bet if Charlie could he would take it back but not if it meant that babe wouldn't be protected and safe.

And again to lie I'm only emphasizing because of the fact that Charlie has his senses so everything is heightened smell as we saw today. We didn't see him use his senses until they were lying but we know he knows that babe is lying even if you probably didn't use his senses honestly. It's just that even more of a riskier thing to do because babe is obviously well where the fact that he has his senses and so it doesn't take much for Charlie to find out anything lol but I feel like Charlie wouldn't have to use it if they would just tell him the truth. But I also think Charlie waits to see if babe will tell him the truth himself but when he doesn't it leaves things with an unresolved tension that is just going to build up.

And the ending with the way Charlie was was looking at him at the end like he couldn't figure babe out. Which honestly broke my heart because Charlie rarely ever looks up babe like that because as babe said it himself he knows him inside and out so the fact that he couldn't tell what babe was really thinking of him 😭😭

And I know some people can say this is like a miscommunication trope but to me it's really not so much that. Both Charlie and babe have both been through so much traumatic events of their life and so it's understandable that for both of them they can't say everything honestly to each other. And honestly they only have each other so they're trying to protect each other but they're both doing it at their own different paces. One thing for sure is that they are both afraid of losing each other and while they won't agree with the other one is doing the love is still there between them.

[y0-yo-yo]

DCxDP bits of story

Jazz and Jason are dating

And it's the greatest thing that happened to Jay cause Jasmine just get him, she's kind and funny and know how to fight, she's never scared of him or pity him they exchange great deal over books, he yaps about theater and she yaps about phycology, she's really involved in the betterment of crime alley so much so she's known as red hood girl's and it's overall the best period of time for Jason

On the other side of town Tim has developed a crush on this cute barista, he interact with him in both persona but he is overthinking this relationship way to much but he do steal a kiss from his beau in a sweet romantic rooftop scene

But one day! Tragedy! Some jokers goons try to kidnap Barbara luckily that girl can still fight and Dick was with her and ignoring the protocol of 'playing helpless himbo' he does fight back those who tries to take his girlfriend but in the same time this was happening other goons were kidnapping Selena,Jazz and Danny to bring them to one of Joker's sick game where he planned to torture them live until their bat lovers find them

Batman is stressed because Selina is in danger and apparently Tim's boyfriend (boyfriend? Did he say that? Is that what he called me? -Tim) and Jason's girlfriend too (the only reason Jason hasn't gone full pit rage is because he need to find the location)

But why were the Fenton in Gotham you may ask? Well Jasmine was there for her studies and Danny needed to register and keep an eye on revenants (Dani helped by traveling the world while he only went to places with the biggest revenant/ ectoplasm regroupement) and one of them was the Joker, he was long overdue to a trial in the afterlife for crimes against deadkind, and at first he was going to procrastinate and wait for him to die naturally but now that he was right in front of him....

*The live start with the Joker grinning in the camera*

"Well hello batsy and company! Today we have very beloved guest don't we?"

Jason is practically vibrating with rage and terror because what do you mean the love of his life, lightness to his darkness is being held by the very monster who broke him beyond repair? Tim is having similar thoughts as he frantically try to find the location of the wearhouses. Bruce as always look emotionless but his whole body is tense he knows Selina is strong but that doesn't stop him from worrying and he also knows that if Jason's girlfriend is hurt there is no holding his son back

*The joker snicker and turns the camera to show the three hostages lined up and tied to chair and gagged, Selina looks ready to pound on him and is probably working on setting herself free, Jazz looks strangely relaxed if not slightly amused tho it could be an act (Cass tell them that even tho it's a video it's probably not an act and that kinda calm Jason even though he is still boiling at the sight of his girl tied like that by this psycho) and Danny looks like a kid who's parents reminded them of a homework they had to do before being allowed to go play outside (and oh how true that was)

"Oh how impatient you must be for your lovers to come get you" the Joker say twirling a knife in his hand before using the tip of it to tilt Danny's chin up making Tim want to commit murder "but don't worry we'll have fun just the four of us while we wait for them hm?"

"Acctually it's very convenient that you're the one who seeked us out" Jazz says calmly..."huh?" Literally everyone except Danny who add "yes, we've been trying to contact you about your soul extended guarantee? It doesn't have any."

"...is this a Joke to you?" The Joker ask starting to be pissed off

"No because Jokes aren't supposed to be pathetic. You have long overdue trials in the afterlife and I came to drag you there myself."

*The audio and image start to distort more and more until the live cut to black*

When the bats arrive in the wearhouses Joker is nowhere in sight, all his goons are tied up in Fenton rope™ and Jazz and Danny looks as relaxed as ever as if they had just been on a little sibling outing while Selina just looks at them

"Now which God forgotten parts of hell did you guys crawl from?"