#but lately he's been choosing to sleep more often especially now that he has a party he trusts to look after him

[heybiji]

dreamless

[garricks4thwingqueen]

My New Pillow: Dain Aetos X Reader

Prompt: Your My New pillow. Credit for this prompt goes to @deity-prompts

This fic is apart of the #FourthWingBirthdayBash !  

Dain Aetos × Rebellion Garrick's younger sister reader. 

Word Count 1469

    Being a child of the rebellion was never easy. You've managed to endure your first year at Basgiath but not without lack of training from your older brother Garrick, relieving of tension via friends with benefits style from someone your older brother would definitely not approve of or any of your friends for that matter. Frankly you shouldn't even be attracted to the man but yet you couldn't help but not feel head over heels in love with him. Yet you and Dain Aetos remained friends with benefits for the most obvious of reasons. 

   After war games this year and after the outbreak at Basgiath you find yourself at home in Aretia with your brother, Xaden and the other rebellion children along with 100s of other cadets that choose to come to your side after the chaos ensued. Even Dain had come along, although you were pretty sure it was only for your sake. After how war games ended this year Dain was basically enemy number one of your group. 

  You had never been more thankful that you had your own room in Riorson House due to your father's work with Xaden's father. Both you and Garrick had often found Riorson House more your home then your actual home. You currently found yourself on the verge of mixed emotions. You were mostly conflicted between your love for Dain still and every God damned fucking thing happening. Especially losing Liam. Even though your group majority blamed Dain you didn't. You knew he only knew one side of the story until you told him the story your group grew up with. You told him about war games and how everything went down including the Wyvern and the Venin; including how you held your best friend in your arms as he was dying and finally including the scream of Deigh that you'll never forget. Dain apologized for his father's actions that affected the rebellion group during war games; he felt awful and you knew he did. He had even been taking the shit from the others like a champ. Needless to say, your anxiety has been on the rise lately.

   You sniffled and wiped your falling tears as you got up and answered the soft knock on your door and gave Dain a half assed smile and a barely whispered “hey,” as you stepped out of the doorway so he could come in. You took in his shirtless and sweaty frame and noticed a few new scratches on his face. “You missed dinner.” he said soothingly, wrapping you into a hug. “I wasn't hungry and those are new.”  You stroked his scratched cheek  as you shrugged your shoulders as Dain led you both to your bed. “I wanted to check on you earlier but I figured I should at least wait until your brother went to bed and training with a few gryphon riders.” “You don't want to die yet, do you?” You smirked with a yawn. With that you earned a chuckle from Dain and that had quickly become one of your favorite sounds this year “I guess it is late. I should go.” He said going to stand. “No wait.” “Y/N?” “Please stay. I haven't been sleeping the greatest since I’ve been home.” you admitted softly. With a nod of Dain's head he took his shirt off and stripped to his boxers and climbed back into bed with you. 

    You snuggled into him and laid your head onto his chest as he pulled you close. This was a slightly new feeling for the both of you. Usually you just fucked in your room back at basgiath, Dain never staying long for fear of being caught from the both of you. But now you didn't care and honestly you're done with being just friends with benefits with one of the people you cared most about. You bury yourself into his chest as you feel him wrap his strong arms around you and feel your fingers intertwined together as he holds your hand. “Dain,” you yawn softly. “Mmmm?” You take your gambled risk and say the damned thought that's been on your mind hoping he feels the same way or else you're shit out of a friend. “I love you.” It's silent for a minute but then he grips you tighter and your greeted with the best sound you've ever heard “I love you too Y/N.” 

    “I can get very used to this.” You mumbled into his chest. Dain chuckled again; “Oh I know you can. I'll just have to deal with your brother first.” “Don't worry about him. I can handle Garrick. He just wants me to be happy.” “And you want to know one thing that's making me very happy right now?” I yawned. “Me?” “Well yeah, but I mean a very specific part of you.”You smirked as you bury yourself into his chest more and trace soft circles on his skin. “A specific part?” Dain smirked back “Yeah my head is super comfy right now. In fact I think your chest is way more comfortable than any pillow I've slept on ever. In fact it's my new favorite pillow.” You smirked with a yawn and kissed Dain softly as he chuckled. And gods did laying on his chest just amplify your favorite sound. “My chest mmmm? Those muscles didn't get there themselves. But they'll accept being your new favorite pillow. I just want my girl safe, happy and loved and she can have me however she likes.” Dain said softly and kissed your forehead.

    “Forever? No matter what we are going to get tossed at us and it's going to be a lot of shit. You know that right?” “I know.” He soothed and stroked his fingers through your hair. “Whether it be from my brother or Xaden and not to mention this impending doomed war shit.” “And we will be together through it all, together; I love you. You know we'll have to deal with my father to” He sighed and started tracing your relic which was the largest relic of the females in your group. Almost as large as your brother's. “I think my father is in for a good one next time I see him.” You sighed into his chest burying your face further, if that was possible. “Just be careful please. You don't need to get hurt because of me.” “I can handle him.” Dain said softly and started to pepper kisses down your neck. “Mmm.” Was your only response as you just took in the moment of being with each other. A moment like this you two had never had before but now you couldn't imagine falling asleep any other way from now on. 

   You woke up to your alarm going off at 5:30 with a groan, but smiled as you felt Dain’s arms tighten around you once more. “Good Morning my sweet girl.” He rasped and kissed your forehead. “Good Morning my Great Dain.” You smirked and kissed him softly. “Great Dain, is that supposed to be a pun?” He smirked. “Maybe.” You teased and ran your finger through his hair as there was a knock at your door. You groaned “Imogen.” Into Dain's chest. He chuckled softly as you yelled “Just a minute Immi and I'll be out.” Impatient as ever Imogen opened your door which you must have forgotten to lock. “Right a minute.” She smirked, taking in the sight before her. She opened her mouth to speak. “Don't start. I'll explain on our run please don't”. You sighed. “Fine but hurry up. Violet is annoying this morning.” 

  “I forgot about your runs.” Dain smirked. “Shut up. I don't wanna move.” You groaned, burying yourself into him. “Well I certainly don't want to start this off being any more on Imogen's bad side. So up and at ‘em for you.” He smirked, sitting you both up. “Not before a morning kiss.” You smiled and ran his fingers through his hair.  He chuckled and compiled by kissing you deeply. You sighed as you started to get dressed. “I'll see you at breakfast, lover.” You sighed and kissed him once more. “I'll see you later my princess.”  

 You both left your room; Dain heading to the showers and you heading to the back yard of Riorson House to meet Imogen, Violet and Rhiannon who started joining you yesterday. Imogen stood with her arms crossed and a stern unreadable look on her face. You loved Immi and she had always been like a sister to you, that you never had but her bad side was always something you tried to avoid. “Please don't Imogen. Can we talk about it later and alone?” “Fine.” She huffed and added “But don't accept me or everyone else to be remotely happy about this.”

Authors Note: I kind of left this as an open ending for a potential part two! Thoughts?

[cafecourage]

Ooo requests are open?? :D for a writing request, may I ask for platonic snuggles scenario in your Isekai AU with Y/N and each of the boys? Or you can just pick your favorite(s) boy(s) if you’d prefer! 💜

I am going to have to pick my favorite boy’s/ two call outs, only because I have another cuddle adjacent request so technically I will have to write the rest later. XD Sorry if these aren’t that long I am trying to get back to writing for LU again.

Sky:

The night comes slowly some days as you travel. The slower the day the harder it is. Since when time is dragging on your body tends to tire out sooner then later. The whole group understands that its not their first rodeo. However it was yours. Sky was always a tune to your issues unfortunately and has been keeping by your side in case of emergency. You don’t think you where that close to falling over but apparently he thought otherwise.

It was a blessing or a curse.

Sky was a teddy bear but also a momma bird. So as soon as the camp location was established he drags you to away from the commotion. Unceremoniously he sits down taking his sailcloth off in the same action. “Come on.” Was all he said when he gestures down to his side.

“I am not that tired.” You mumbled but its not really like you wanted to refuse this opportunity. Sky is warm and squishy. It’s not like you cuddle with him to often. “Oof.” You plop yourself next to him and claimed his left side. “Your trapped now, your not allowed to leave.” You said with a yawn.

“I thought you said you weren’t that tired.” Sky teased as he drapes the sailcloth on the two of you like a blanket. You grumbled and smack his shoulder which only made him laugh.

Sky’s snuggles are the definition of hiding under the covers from a cold day. Warm and fuzzy.

Warriors:

You frown as this was getting ridiculous, there was a pattern you had notice recently with Warriors. He just wouldn’t wake anyone up until third shift. It’s not really something that would be brought up normally if you hadn’t signed up for second shift multiple times to get some late night internal monologuing done. You slowly get up from your spot where you were journaling and came closer to the fire. Not even asking you take part of the Captains scarf and wrap it around your neck as you lean into him. “Excuse you.” He said not amused by your shenanigans. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

“Says the one that doesn’t wake up the next watch.” You fire back opening up your journal ones more. There was obviously something bothering him for him to not want to sleep the past few days. It’s not really good to force something like this out of a person and it doesn’t seem like he was going to talk easy especially this soon in your journey with the boys.

There wasn’t much he could argue with that given the circumstances “doesn’t mean you need to lose sleep,” was his argument. “Don’t suffer for my sake.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes at him “I’m not. I can’t sleep anyway.” There was an attempt to shut down the argument. “I’ll go to sleep when I can.” You then offered.

After some beats of silence and plotting in your braincell to wake up Twilight for his shift, the Captain puts his arm around you “fine.” He brings you closer a bit. Shifting your body you use his shoulder as your headrest. “What are you writing anyway?” He turns the topic to something else. Something less heavy of an topic. And with a smile you started to use this shift to explain to him about the history of Hyrule with some info missing of course.

Honestly? Snuggling with Warriors is rare at the start, but he is protective and sturdy. The Captain is the definition of safety.

Twilight:

Between Wolfie and the man, choosing when to give snuggles is a hard pick to make. There has been many times where Wolfie ends up being a giant heated plushie that you ensnare with your arms and legs. Truly a curse of being a furnace. But hey, you benefit from it.

Wolf snuggles tend to be rare as Twilight can’t really stay long as the longer his person was away the more the other links start to noticed. Which was why he tended to be the blanket or teddy bear replacement.

Cuddling with Twilight, the man, the myth, the not actually legend? Heaven. Absolutely heavnly as because he was a human furnace he mainly ends up as a mattress for you and wild. Playing with your hair braiding it slowly as he attempts to sleep himself as he was trapped. Sometimes he would switch to Wild as to make sure both of you get equal amount of attention from the resident older brother.

He was a magnet to the other boys as well. That always ends up with a cuddle pile since Twilight has this weird case of giving hugs and cuddles that are secure. It’s not in the protective way but more calming. Like he washed it away any issues that were in your mind to begin with.

Thats just who Twilight is though.

He might be annoying with nagging you to be more careful in this adventure, but he really is the definition of home.

Time:

You love the chain. Each Link was amazing and courageous in the own ways. But they are also very, very, chaotic sometimes. Which normally would be fun and fine, if your social battery was on the same wavelength. At the end of lunch there was little for you to do since it was a free day. The boy’s were training to let out some energy that has been built up.

There was a goal in your head though. You were aiming to do one thing the whole day and that was to sleep, and there was one man for that job.

You find Time sitting by the boy’s that had signed up to fight. It didn’t look like he was going to join them today. So perfect for your plans.

“Time.”

Was your only warning before you literally fall on the oldest link’s back. You needed a battery recharge and a hug. Both would be good please. You wanted both. You could feel the sigh from your laying spot as he has to awkwardly shift position to drag you on his lap. As soon as he has you it was Koala time. Time didn’t even blink or acknowledge your presence as he kept watch of the spars in front of him. Slowly thought his hand finds it’s way up to your hair. Not braiding it but just playing with it out of habit.

Time cuddles are the ultimate recharge, it was similar to Twilights but on a bigger scale. Safe probably more softer as its easier to hide from the world in Time’s arms. Plus the warmth of sun and tuning out the clashing of the wooden swords its no wonder you instantly fall asleep.

[kira-broflovski]

Mysterious Injuries || Kenny McCormick x Reader

note: characters are in high school + mild descriptions of injuries on kenny

It was a night just like any other. You had finally finished a long evening of studying for a test next week, your chores were done, and you had a soothing bath to just finally relax.

Your parents were both at a night shift, so you texted them to let them know your little sister had been put to bed already.

You were about to go to sleep yourself when a phone call from your close friend and crush, Kenny, lit up your phone. Of course, you answered it straight away.

"Y/N?" He sounded oddly relieved that you picked up.

"Kenny? Are you okay?" His unusually short breath started to worry you. "Why are you calling so late?"

He didn't answer your question, instead, he asked if he could come over to which you said yes. Then, he hung up with a quick mumble of thanks. What was that about?

You made sure your little sister was still asleep before going downstairs and waiting for Kenny to arrive. What was going on?

The loud doorbell rung throughout the house, almost making you jump out your own skin, and you dashed to the front door, knowing it was the very person you were waiting on.

He stood there, his jacket barely holding onto his shoulders while the vest that covered his torso was barely white anymore. He was covered in various dark shades, one of which you recognised to be a deep red.

You looked up to meet his eyes, only to note further injuries: he had a black eye and his lips were split, spilling blood down his chin and neck; along with various cuts and dents all over his body.

"What the fuck happened to you?" You felt your heart drop when the realisation set in that he was hurt.

Carefully, you brought him inside and upstairs to the bathroom where you sat him down on the edge of the bathtub. He was so quick that the smell of your body spray still lingered.

"Sorry for the late notice," Kenny looked down as if he was embarrassed. "I didn't know where else to go."

"Don't be sorry, Kenny, it's okay." Without thinking, you bent down to kiss him on the forehead before getting all the medical supplies out, which also meant you didn't see the furious blush that formed on his face.

"What happened to you?" You asked once more. He looked uncomfortable as he avoided your gaze, so you decided to drop it and assumed something happened at home again. Especially after him saying he didn't know where else to go.

"Let me know if it hurts too much, but this disinfectant is going to sting."

He considered telling you everything. His parents wouldn't cause this much harm to him, if anything he did it himself by choosing to fight crime as his superhero persona, Mysterion, the persona you had no idea was really him.

He wanted to tell you so bad because he felt like he was lying to you, and he didn't want to lie to the one person that took care of him so tenderly, and the one friend that paid attention to little Karen.

Well, his sister wasn't that little anymore, but he still wanted to look out for her. She often came over for playdates with your little sister, and Kenny had never been so thankful for meeting you.

Your little sister adored Kenny as well, so days with the four of you were always so wholesome.

However, he didn't want to worry the most important girls in his life, so he kept this double life to himself. He stayed silent.

He has never felt like this before. He used to just let himself die so carelessly because he knew he would come back, but he now realised how depressing that is.

Getting taken care of doesn't seem so bad if you're the one tending to him.

The way you gently touched him in case you accidentally hurt him made his heart and mind race. You stood him up when you were done, but he quickly pulled you into a hug as tears started to pool in his eyes.

You didn't question the embrace, you simply returned the hug and rubbed his back.

"Thank you." He was trying so hard not to cry on you.

"It's okay, Kenny. I'm here for you." Your words made the poor, touch-starved boy sob on your shoulder and pull you in tighter.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N. I'm so fucking sorry."

You pulled away slightly and moved a hand up to wipe away his tears, while staring directly into your understanding eyes.

"You have nothing to apologise for," you reassured him and put your arm back around him. "We can go watch something in my room, would you like that?" Your gentle voice made his knees go weak.

He didn't have the energy to even talk anymore, so he just nodded with a watery smile.

The two of you put on some random comedic movie as you cuddled in your warm bed. Kenny had drifted off, and his head somehow ended up in your lap so you decided to slowly play with his hair as he lulled further into a deep sleep.

He felt another gentle kiss on his head, and the last thing he heard before truly falling asleep was you.

"Sleep well, Kenny."

[obsessedtomone]

Unravel Yourself Before Me ⛓️ Chapter 10 - The Talk▸Shigaraki x femReader

Chapter Summary:

◤ There’s a certain look in his angry eyes now, one of a quiet desperation.

Desperation for what? 

You grit your teeth.

Confusion and annoyance simultaneously cross your face, because you realize you couldn’t reliably get a proper read on him whatsoever, it being especially frustrating when he always seemed to know what made you tick instead. ◢ Setting: University AU - No quirks (unless degenerate personalities count) Tags: Slow burn, Eventual Smut, Unhealthy/Toxic Relationships, Humiliation, Mentally Ill Reader, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to ??? Warning: Dead Dove – Do Not Eat | Mind the tags TW: Implied Su/Self H, Dubcon, Reader has a super shitty past like actually, Shigaraki Tomura is his own warning.

AO3 Crosspost | Chain Divider by firefly-graphics

Chapters: One • Two • Three • Four • Five • Six • Seven • Eight • Nine • Ten(ko) • Eleven

Chapter 10 - The Talk

Loud scraping noise is echoing throughout the room, as you drag a chair across the class’ marble floors, sitting in the back as usual. 

There’s contemplation written all across your features while you’re staring outside the window, looking at the common cold season gray skies. You yawn, stretching your joints, massaging the juncture between your shoulder and your neck, preparing for another day to be over.

It’s a long way from over, because it’s literally morning. 

You were up so early today, that you ended up being the only one in class, feeling actually peaceful in the silence for once, something that rarely ever happened to you.

Being late to class wasn’t ever only about sleeping longer, even though that in itself played a huge part. Being late was also about feeling reassured. About hearing the heaps of people replace the never-ending noise in your fucking head. 

You disliked crowds and you fucking hated people, but you despised how lonely you feel in the sea of your suffocating pointless thoughts the most.

And as if you being here before everyone else wasn’t weird enough for you, you also opted to leave your laptop inside your bag, not taking it out like you normally would upon immediately seating yourself. You didn’t check your phone either, choosing to simply stare at the depressingly gray view, wondering if Shigaraki was going to show up today after fucking ghosting your ass last week.

He’d left you (to worry) to wonder all week as to whether or not he’d gotten caught, gotten in trouble. Maybe he wasn’t as invincible as you thought he’d be after all and pulling off a large-scale doxxing operation wasn’t as easy as he made it seem, even for the big bad Shigaraki Tomura.

Not like you had a chance to ask him though, when the last three messages you’d sent were shamelessly left on read.

So instead of that, you’d been wondering about him. So much so, your brain began spotting not-Shigarakis everywhere you fucking went lately.

It’s weird—so incredibly weird, how this character seemed to progressively monopolize your everyday attention ever since you’ve crossed each other’s paths that day. 

It’s also weird how you’ve started to… feel things. For a while now. You’re certain it was his fault for this. For these feelings that you thought you weren’t capable of feeling anymore. Anger, sadness, betrayal and maybe… Maybe something more.

Something that’s been forcefully buried deep, deep down, so you wouldn’t ever have to feel anymore. Something really fucking dangerous.

It never fails to irritate you, thinking about him like this, and you end up doing it often. Your mind starts to wander and you eventually start asking questions that you’re not sure you wanted answers to. Not only that, but no video game, show or stupid fucking playlist could distract you from your thoughts as well as they used to anymore.

Now why the fuck would that be?

In addition to spending your precious free time sinking down the bottomless pit of your mental conundrum, your best friend has also been pestering you lately, asking you to join them to a college party of all fucking things.

It’s the birthday party of one of their hook-ups (you either couldn’t remember who the fuck it was or you didn’t bother to ask), a loose connection or a ‘friend’, as Taylor would sometimes refer to those assholes.

You fucking hate parties, but the way your friend looked at you with their annoying puppy eyes wasn’t lost on you, especially since they’re always going above and beyond to help you out and be by your side whenever you need them to, no questions asked.

(A fat fucking lie, they’d always ask you so many questions.)

Therefore you ended up saying… yes. To both yours and their own surprise. Which by extension also means you have to go shopping for new ‘party-adequate’ clothes today, partly because you don’t wanna embarrass your friend and also because it’s been a while since you’d worn something nice. You don’t, usually, because who the fuck are you trying to impress?

For Taylor however—once again—you’d agreed.

The bell rings, bringing your awareness back to the present as numerous students pour in one-by-one, finding their seats. 

It doesn’t take long to see a familiar black hooded figure, trudging its way to you all the way from the front entrance. The closer he gets with every step, the faster your heart threatens to beat out of your chest, but you don’t understand your feelings well enough to be able to tell why that is.

“Hey,” he greets you first in a rough, quiet voice and avoids your gaze in a way he’s never done to you before. 

You stare.

The man who casually obliterated half the careers in your college like it was nothing. All of it, just for you. The white fucking knight from hell.

He slides down into the seat next to yours, dropping his bag to the side of his chair and still not bothering to look your way. 

It immediately strikes you as odd for him to avoid you, when usually he did nothing but his absolute fucking best to capitalize on your attention, whichever way he thought he could get it. 

Not today, apparently.

“Hey… you good?” 

The words slip out of your mouth before you could realize their implication.

Shigaraki finally turns his head to you, looking a bit taken aback as he does, lips pressed into a thin line and his posture being tense. He doesn’t give you a verbal reply, but instead slightly nods his head once. Which in turn pushes you to pry further.

“Sooo, you left me on read,” you mention casually in a lilt, resting your arm on the desk and supporting your chin with your hand. 

His strikingly red eyes widen and quickly narrow again, gaze scrutinizing your features and scanning for something he couldn’t seem to find. 

You wait patiently, but it doesn’t take long for his lips to part.

“I was uh… busy,” he mutters, hand lifting to scratch at his neck and drawing your attention to the many fresh-looking red angry lines that he doesn’t seem to have trouble deepening.

“With what?” you huff in amusement, elbow sliding along as you lean in nonchalantly, reaching your free hand to put a stop to his absent-minded self-harm. “Did you get in trouble after all?”

Your touch wasn’t exactly tender, but you don’t swat his hand away or grimace this time and he—He notices. Tomura blinks, wondering if you really did hit your head since the last time he’s seen you.

“Huh?”

You quirk a brow and there’s a ghost of a smile on your lips. “Are you deaf? I’m asking if you got in trouble after I texted you last time.”

“No?” he scoffs, looking at the hand that’s still holding his.

Your hand.

It’s warm.

And incredibly soft.

A rosy color begins to spread over his pale cheeks, but you only roll your eyes and frown, thinking he’s spacing out and maybe doesn’t really want to talk to you about the details of his crimes. You don’t know why, but there’s the beginnings of irritation building up within you.

“Forget it,” you end up grumbling, clicking your tongue and releasing his hold—but he’s as quick as a cat to grab you by your wrist instead, immediately hitting you with a bout of deja vu and sending you back in time.

There’s a certain look in his angry eyes now, one of a quiet desperation.

Desperation for what? 

You grit your teeth.

Confusion and annoyance simultaneously cross your face, because you realize you couldn’t reliably get a proper read on him whatsoever, it being especially frustrating when he always seemed to know what made you tick instead.

Shigaraki lowers your wrist, slowly and deliberately sliding his cold fingers against your palm, before intertwining them with yours experimentally. And for some unknown reason—both to you and to him—you don’t make a move to pull back this time.

The thought you had while looking into his eyes made you gasp softly.

“Shigaraki…” you whisper, eyes lowering to stare at his thin masculine fingers, holding your hand like you were something he could break. 

His eyes follow your gaze and he finally breathes, tightening his grip on your hand just barely. “Yeah?”

“What… are we doing?” Again?

The moment your eyes met his again, you could physically feel the world spinning on its own axis. He looked less vulnerable now as he looked unsure, while your brain was trying and failing to piece something together. Something important that was missing. 

You're bewitched by a beautiful set of red eyes.

The professor walks in greeting everyone, but Tomura couldn’t care less. It takes him all two seconds to make up his mind and come to a decision.

With a little bit of force, he pulls you out of your chair and drags you on your way out of the classroom. You surprisingly let him without much protest, the back of his dark colored hoodie taking up most of your vision and the shock of unruly white hair bouncing softly in his mission to casually fucking kidnap you from your shared computer science class.

A few curious looks are thrown your way, including that of the fucking professor himself, all of them sparking the need for you to reconsider, but something about Shigaraki’s weird determination and your own curiosity compel you to follow.

His spell slightly wears off the moment you step out of the class, panic filling you as bills of valuables you can’t afford to replace are now left behind.

“Wait! We left our bags in class!” You squeeze his hand slightly, shaking it to get his attention.

“Shut up,” Shigaraki snaps at you unexpectedly, the anger in his voice making your body stiffen.

“What? Where are we going? Hey! Stop!” You finally start to resist, but his grip on you tightens exponentially.

Great fucking question. He doesn’t know where he’s taking you either. This isn’t part of any grand scheme of his, he only knows he needs you alone.

It’s not like you could suddenly read minds, however.

“I said shut UP! Just follow me,” he barks at you again, raising his strained voice and wishing for you to just fucking listen to him for once.

Your lips purse at his shitty reaction. You are not his fucking doormat.

“Or what?” Your tone is challenging and you start putting actual effort into slowing him down, even if it means hurting yourself in his tight grip.

“What?” Shigaraki snaps his head in your direction and finally stops in his tracks, dismayed.

“Or fucking what, I asked!” You try shaking your hand free, but he wouldn’t let you, prompting anger and mockery to quickly weave itself in your voice, “What ya gonna do this time, crazy?”

In the span of a moment, you watch his expression go from irritation to something darker.

Shigaraki finally releases your wrist and you pull away immediately, stepping back while he stalks forward, regret flowing through your veins over whatever stupid fucking idea compelled you to follow him earlier. 

Your back hits the wall in the familiar way it always happens whenever he’s in your proximity. Yeah, definitely deja vu.

“This is not what I wanted to happen—ugh, GODDAMNIT!” he shouts at no one but still ends up making you jump.

Shigaraki briefly runs a hand across his face in obvious frustration, rubbing at his eyes when he finally seems to gather himself and his intense gaze falls back to your face. You can almost feel the weight of his emotions bearing down on you.

The air you breathe becomes charged with an electrifying tension as his haunting red eyes pierce through your soul and an unsettling chill creeps over your skin.

The totality of his attention is now narrowed to yourself and yourself only.

This is the look that he was missing minutes ago.

The trademark Shigaraki look.

He closes the space and cages you in between his arms in a way you now know it’s on purpose, forcing you to focus on him and only him, the way all he could fucking think of lately was you, you, you.

“We’re in the hallway. Again.” You roll your eyes in faux confidence, puffing in his face and furrowing a brow as your voice slightly quivers. “Do you have an exhibitionism kink?”

He’s so close you can literally feel the tickle of his breaths against your face. Your rib lightens him up in seconds and he cracks an amused smile, tight expression slightly softening.

“Do you really wanna find out?”

“Shigaraki,” you warn, glaring at him sharply.

Fuck, does he hate it when you say his name like that, cold and detached, much rather preferring you saying it differently. Adoringly. Dripping with lust, worshiping him like the god he’s sure he is—calling him by his first name…

“What,” he grumbles in a gravelly tone, mouth slowly inching closer to yours, aching for a taste.

You hesitate, really hesitate for a split second, but catch yourself in time before you lose yourself again. Before you lose yourself to him.

“I don’t want to fucking kiss you!” You glance down at his lips, barely a hair away from touching yours. 

He stiffens immediately, rough hands at the sides of your head clenching into two tight fists and his jaw locks.

Tomura wants you. He wants you. He wants you!

“That’s a lie,” he finally whispers, blood-red eyes boring into you the way you’ve come to accept as familiar, searching for confirmation or anything to prove that he’s right, that you’re in fact lying, because he’s this close to fucking losing control again in front of you. To take you by force and undo all his recent efforts to make you like him.

Maybe you wouldn’t be compliant at first, but he’d take you whichever way he can get you, if it meant you would be fucking stuck with him. You’d understand him too one day, surely—

“No! It’s not!” Your brows shoot down, interrupting his dangerous train of thought. “First, explain to me why you thought it was fine to do all that shit to me, to harass me!”

You place your hands on his chest, pushing him back softly. He growls in response, but doesn’t let you create any distance, doesn’t budge a single inch from his rightful spot, towering over you.

It takes a moment for you to process it, but then you realize you aren’t alone. There are footsteps around you, random passerby students walking down the hallway and wearing disgusted looks on their faces. 

You cringe inwardly, growing embarrassed at world record speeds. Shigaraki is pinning you to the wall, and you can only imagine how it must look to anyone witnessing this.

“Y-You know what—” You look around nervously, suddenly painfully aware of your surroundings, before returning your gaze to him and trying to reason, “Let’s not do this here.”

There’s hope inside you. Hope that maybe he’d have a shred of shame, or empathy, or something and understand that this is not okay, but unfortunately he couldn’t care less about your discomfort or how this made either of you look. He never did. Not when you almost got him off last time, not when he humiliated you in front of everyone, not now.

Instead, his mind is more focused on running through all the scenarios, all the possible things he could say to you right now, in order to win you over to his side, but for once, he falls short.

What the fuck could he even tell you? You heard rumors about him, but you probably don’t truly understand their weight. You wouldn’t understand how obsessively he wants to fuck you over, to ruin your life, to destroy your fucking ego, until the only person in the universe left to want you as you’d be—broken and irreparable—would be him. Just him

Because he could. Because no one ever takes away his broken toys.

But he decided a while ago to try and go through the pacifist run for now, in hope you’d become willingly compliant. It’d be much easier if you’d just submit to him, rather than risk you taking the forever exit and never getting to see you again. No, he couldn’t have that.

Tomura can’t tell the difference between romantic feelings and obsession. Between cherishing something or wanting to destroy it before it turns to weakness. But that’s not something you’d ever understand.

So instead, he takes the opportunity to scan over your flustered face, waiting for the correct dialogue option to magically pop up and save this glitchy run, which unfortunately for him, would never happen.

“I fucking like you,” Shigaraki confesses to you bluntly, spitting out the words out like they pain him to say and giving you pause.

You watch him startled as you are, surprise turning into horror as you wait for him to correct himself. Your confusion turns to anger, and the anger makes you seethe.

“So fucking what?” You finally snap out of it, raising your voice and elbowing him away as hard as you could. The ground is swallowing you in. Your nose crinkles in disgust and you go ahead and shout at him, unrestrained. “You’re so fucking twisted if you think that this is how you treat the person you have feelings for—or–or that it would somehow make up for all the fucked up shit you’ve done!”

Hurt flashes across his face and he snarls at you.

“You—!”

“Yes,” Shigaraki hisses, a terrifying smile breaking on his face, the visible pain morphing into something akin to despair in a matter of seconds. “Yes, I’m so, so incredibly fucked up. You’re right on the fucking money.” He chuckles dryly, taking a step back. “What, did you expect a bouquet of flowers and a heartfelt apology from me? Grow the fuck up.”

Wide-eyed and brows creased, you watch him in true disbelief, but before you can retaliate, Shigaraki speaks again first.

“You’re fucking strange! I don’t fucking know how to deal with you. There’s nothing special about you, yet—”

You? You’re strange? You?!

“I can’t get you out of my fucking mind. Every damn day, I obsess with thoughts of… thoughts of you! You’re so fucking annoying. You ignore me, you rile me up, despise me and then you’re friendly again. You act worried about me, ask me if I’m fucking okay! Me! You’re asking ME!” His panicked voice cracks and all previous semblances of composure slip away from him, baring his teeth at you and looking absolutely unhinged.

Nobody asks Shigaraki Tomura if he’s doing fucking okay.

His confession leaves you speechless, but not for long. You lunge forward, grabbing the hem of his sweatshirt with both of your hands and pull him close.

And he bends for you. He always does.

“What gives you the right to have feelings for me, Shigaraki?” Your expression turns sour as you speak. “Do you have any idea—do you even fucking know what I went through, to get here? You don’t know shit. A pathetic little sociopath that’s never learned how to be human. Who uses other people’s fucked up little secrets to own them. For just a little bit of fun.”

Weeks of pent-up anger all slip out of you at once.

“You don’t know anything about who I am, who I was, yet you play with my life and—and act like I’m your fucking toy!” you inhale sharply, “You then manipulate my only fucking friend to get what you want. You come to my house. You pretend you're a good boy. For how long, hm?” You tilt your head and raise your pinched eyebrows in feigned innocence. “How long until you snap again and do it all over again? Until I do something that displeases your Majesty and you quadruple down to make sure I really kill myself this time?” The last of the words tumble out of your mouth and you feel your throat closing, causing you to choke up.

Tomura presses his lips into a tight line, shoulders slumping. He couldn’t let you slip through his fingers like this. He’d picked the wrong option. He’d fucked up.

Shit, shit, shit.

“I told you, I won’t fucking—”

“Do that again? Why?” You can't help but break out into a bout of manic little giggles. “What’s different this time? What’s changed? You want me to believe that just ‘cos your twisted little heart feels something for once—that you’ve changed? You’re a different person?” Your grip on his hoodie tightens, knuckles turning white while all you were seeing was red. 

“You mean it?” You pout at him. “You’ll leave me the fuck alone if I reject your feelings right fucking now? That you’ll never talk to me if I fucking ask you to? Pinky—fucking—promise?!”

Shigaraki’s body tenses up and you feel it.

He couldn’t deny and he couldn’t promise you any of that. You’ve seen straight through his nature and he’d underestimated you. Should’ve known better, judging by all the things he’d dug up about you. Watching your disgusting joke of an ex abuse you and then him using that against you, posting the media for everybody to see, only to bring you down under his foot where he wanted you to belong.

No, you’re absolutely right about him.

Still, he hates the impact your words have on him. He hates the way you make him feel.

“Hm? Not even going to go ahead and deny it? Maybe lie a little?” You release him with a sardonic smile plastered onto your face. “Fucking thought so.”

You resist the urge to pat him down, the way he did to you after the presentation months ago. 

Instead, you click your tongue and turn your back on him—but the snake slithers his long arms around your waist and presses you close to him. You feel his heart thumping violently against your back, erratic breathing against your neck.

“Let go,” you warn carefully.

“No,” Shigaraki grunts. “No, you’re coming with me and we’re going to fucking fix this.”

Alarms go off in your head and your fingers desperately twist the fabric of his black sleeves, working to pry his hands away from you. 

“Fucking—Fucking let go of me Shigaraki. Now!” Your voice cracks as you struggle uselessly. “I’m fucking done talking to you. I don’t want to see your stupid fucking face ever again!”

And if there’s one thing you hate more than obsessive psycho-assholes, it’s obsessive psycho-assholes with the strength and ability to ignore you saying no to them, physically taking your autonomy away. 

There’s no one on sight who can help you, and that thought angers you even more until—

“Please…” he whispers so quietly you almost don’t catch it. And then all of the sudden, his hold on you is gone.

You thought either hell froze over or you’ve finally lost it, because if you heard correctly, Shigaraki is fucking begging you. You, of all people.

“...What?” You turn your head, mouth ajar to stare at the most horrified you’ve ever seen him be. 

He doesn’t repeat himself.

Instead, he backs away, eyes wide like those of a wounded animal, turning around and storming off on squeaking converse. Leaving you in the dust for once.

Several moments pass and you’re still standing there, looking in the direction Shigaraki had disappeared, trying to wrap your head around the entire fucking situation.

You eventually turn around, different emotions overwhelming your senses as you begin stomping your way back to the classroom to retrieve your belongings. 

Anger. Confusion. Shame.

When the hell did your life turn into a fucking soap opera all over again?

─────────

It's getting progressively cold lately, you notice. A temperature that the thin fabric of your cheap clothes wouldn’t be able to shield you from, especially not today.

You’re waiting outside of the campus gates for Taylor, for you to finally go shopping together, hoping that will cheer you up, distract you from the earlier… incident.

“Jeez, babe. Did a truck run you over on the way out?” Taylor quips upon finding your gloomy form leaned against the fence.

“Fuck off with that and let’s go, I’m freezing.”

They eye you suspiciously for a moment, until a knowing smirk forms on their stupid fucking face.

“Anyway, so—I pretty much bombed my history exam today, but get this! Did you know that the professor…”

It’s probably been like five minutes total since entering the mall’s forever 21—maybe ten if you’re really generous, and it makes you roll your fucking eyes because you’ve already somehow ended up losing your friend to the sea of endless clothing articles.

Navigating around on your own like the big girl you are, you manage to actually find a cute band shirt and some black jeans you could add to your lackluster wardrobe. Taylor should be proud.

You’re in the middle of wondering what exactly your friend meant by ‘looking good’ for a party you didn’t care for, when you accidentally bump into something—or someone.

“Ah shit, my bad—” you quickly say, as you turn around and your eyes meet a pair of beautiful turquoise ones.

It stuns you and your gaze lingers a second longer than it’s appropriate, making you look away one moment too late by the time you realized you were staring. 

You feel your face going up in flames, blushing like a fucking teenager.

The person you accidentally bumped into, is an incredibly handsome dude, black ink tattoos covering most of his features—and daddy issues—burnt jet black dyed hair and the darkest, hottest eye-bags you’ve ever seen anyone have before. Not to mention the nose, ears and lips are all pierced. Multiple times.

Guy looks like he came straight out of a rock band performance and you feel like you’re about to be taken to the back stage.

He watches you intently, an amused smile gracing his lips.

“Like what you see, sweetheart?” the for-sure playboy says with an impossibly husky voice, and you fucking go beet-red at the sound of it. At the prospect of him giving you attention.

You’re not used to being around men so fucking out of your league, let alone have them be hitting on you.

You used to fantasize that you weren’t the type to fall for them so easily. That you’re not like the others.

That makes you a) incredibly lucky for it to happen to you and b) incredibly wrong and delusional about what kind of person you really are. 

It took you twenty something years to get to where you finally realized it, but as it turns out, you are absolutely the fucking type to fall for charismatic sweet talk and attention—especially when said attention came from goth fuckboys with black hair and gorgeously blue eyes.

“F-Fuck off, dude,” you bark with no bite, feeling especially embarrassed at him catching you off-guard like this.

“That’s the plan doll, but you’re kind of blocking the way.” He chuckles and your eyes widen for a second before you begrudgingly step out of his way.

You really hope this would be the last of your awkward interaction with him, but the universe must fucking hate you, because instead of fucking off like he promised he would, his lips part away again to speak.

“So that’s what you’re into, huh?” The guy attempts to make small talk, pointing at the band shirt in your arms.

“Huh? Ah. Sure. Used to be,” you answer mechanically, looking anywhere you could but him.

“That so? What are ya into now, then?”

God, the fucking awkwardness could kill you.

Why is he engaging with you when there’s ‘sweethearts’ all over this fucking store?! Is he the type to hit on literally anybody? You couldn’t help but feel like he was one hundred percent toying with you.

“Honestly n-none of your business. I’d like to go find my friend now, so—bye.” You turn to walk away, to find your fucking friend and escape this suffocating situation, but life was never fucking easy. The usual.

“Yo, stop trying to wriggle away from me. At least tell me what your name is.” He puts a warm hand on your shoulder and you immediately tense up. “Mine’s—”

“Dabiiiiiii!” 

You hear your friend squeal in the distance and turn your head to them, feeling dumbfounded.

“Tay?” His smile widens.

Oh, for fuck’s sake!

“You guys know each other?!” asks your friend, before wrapping their arms around ‘Dabi’ and giving him a good squeeze. He ‘pats’ their back, fingers pressing and feeling around their body in what you could only describe as incredibly lewd, and you scowl.

“We were getting there.” He gives you a lazy smile and then fucking winks.

“Who’s this guy?” You ignore him, glaring at your friend and throwing a thumb backwards at this ‘Dabi’ dude.

“I’m right next to you, angel,” he replies, leaning in too fucking close for your comfort, hot and minty breath making contact with your neck.

You shoot both of them a bewildered look, step backwards and cover the spot with on your neck with a hand like he just shot hot flames against it.

“Dabi! Don’t pick on her! She’s my little wallflower!” Taylor says obnoxiously, using a sickly sweet tone you’ve only seen them use on people they wanna sleep with.

Both of them treat you like the fucking middle child, standing in the way between them and the bedroom and making you hate your friend for it. Neither seem to mind though, too busy gazing deeply into each other’s eyes like you’ve seen in those shitty movies Taylor forces you to watch.

It’s fucking gross and you’re gearing up to leave.

“That so? She’s fuckin’ cute. Think she’ll give me her number?” The stranger nudges you before belatedly breaking eye contact with your friend and looks at you. “Mm, what do you say, doll?”

“You know what?” You give Taylor a tense grin. “Fuck this, fuck yourselves, and then text me when you’re done.” 

After flipping them off and throwing the clothes you picked up earlier back on the pile, you quickly storm out of the cursed store.

“Sheesh, a lively one, huh?” His lazy grin spreads. “Was only fuckin’ around. You think she’s really mad at me?”

“Mmm, don’t tease her too much, Dabi. She’s been through a lot lately.” Taylor cups his cheek fondly.

“Yeah? Reminds me of a… friend I have, actually. I’d bet a heavy stack they’d get along well,” he murmurs absentmindedly, finally turning his attention to them fully and leaning in for a kiss.

Taylor reciprocates, flicking their tongue against his lower lip almost immediately and silently asking for access. He could only groan, more than happy to oblige.

You end up walking around the mall aimlessly by your lonesome and god were you pissed at your friend for ditching your shopping date for some random hot guy, after they begged you to go with them for so long.

The mall is relatively full. Maybe even too full for your taste, it being afternoon and having a trillion families and couples running around in the capitalistic maze as you still fester in your anger. 

Various scents such as perfume, baked goods and stall foods enter your nostrils. You already feel yourself wanting to go home and ditch your friend the way they fucking ditched you.

But you decide to suck it up when you see the nearest GameStop on the second level, only a couple of feet away if you went up the escalator. At least that seems like a way to kill some time while your friend was getting some. That, and you grabbing something to eat after you get bored.

There’s a few other nerds browsing the aisles when you enter, quietly conversing with each other as you casually start looking around, passing by ugly funko-pops and not really looking to buy anything. The speakers are playing ads of newly released games with over-the-top sound effects, and you scoff asking yourself if they think that’s what’s gonna make you buy anything from them.

Even if they somehow did work on you, you’d have to go home and buy them digitally. There’s no point in buying anything physical, seeing as you never know when you’ll have to move again. It’d be nice to start collections, however. To be able to keep them, but you know better than to trust your life not to fuck you over again.

In the future, when you’ve secured a well paying job and an apartment that you could call your forever home, you’ll make sure to fill it in with whatever your heart fucking desires. 

But for now, you decide to lose yourself in looking at all the displayed products, positively overwhelmed by colors and shapes of your nostalgia. You read the titles you used to play, pick up merch of your favorite franchise and just quietly live in the moment, nursing the forgotten child inside you.

You glance at the cashier who looked ‘making-less-than-minimum-wage’ bored, scrolling mindlessly on her phone as some bozo complained about broken headphones but didn’t bother to bring the receipt. 

Rolling your eyes, you keep walking ahead, picking and prodding at various items on the shelves. You’re planning to go to one of the cafes close by after this and wait for your friend there, while working on some of your assignments.

Until you hear your name spoken out loud by some guy behind you.

If this was a cartoon (and the comedic timings certainly make it seem like one), there would be a cross-popping vein appearing on your fucking forehead right about now. Why couldn’t anyone leave you the fuck alone today? Was that too much to fucking ask for? 

You turn around to get a look at whatever asshole ended up recognizing you and are met with a pair of familiar brown eyes. 

“...Hey,” you say, swallowing emptily. 

This officially marks the third fucking embarrassing thing that happened to you today. You honestly thought you’d never see this guy again. No, more like, you banked on it, which is also the reason you never ended up shooting him a message. 

After all that’s happened to you in the almost two months that since passed, it now feels a little fucking silly to not have texted him this entire time.

Not for a lack of trying, though. You were often debating with yourself to just fucking do it, but opted against it every time, as you felt the grace period was long over and he probably wouldn’t have appreciated your half-assed attention anyway.

It takes you around a split second of looking at his face to recognize the simple truth. You were dead fucking wrong.

“H-Hi!” He beams at you.

“Hey… It’s uh—it’s been a while.” 

You scratch the back of your neck and look at his appearance properly, now that it's not obstructed by dim colorful arcade lighting in the middle of the night.

A thick white beanie crowns his loose, messy, long purple hair, and the graphic tee he wears—a superhero anime you’d only caught glimpses of online—is clearly one or two sizes too big for him. Your almost-friend is really buff actually, short sleeves revealing endless weeks of training. 

But what catches your attention are the reading glasses that you’re positive he didn’t wear the first time you’ve encountered him—or did he?—and subsequently the smattering of acne scars that lay down uneven patterns of rugged skin, making you wonder just how painful that must’ve been to deal with.

Despite all that, it’s the reluctant shy demeanor contrasting his intimidating rough features that made you recognize him straight away.

Your almost-friend. The arcade guy.

“What brings you here?” you ask, turning your attention to a cute mug in your hands, feeling the cool ceramic surfaces and pondering if you should make an exception to your no-buying-shit rule just this once.

“I—uhmm. I actually came here with a friend, but w-we split up earlier. I wanted to see if they finally had a copy of Elden Ring here. It’s been sold out for like a freaking week now, I can’t find it anywhere! I’ve been on a Souls marathon for the past three months, waiting for the release, but all the stupid bots scalped every copy off the goddamn internet!” The guy rolls his eyes, folding his hands before he catches himself and looks at you nervously, rubbing his right arm and suddenly feeling self-conscious. “A-Ah, my bad! I went off talking too much again. W-What about you? Why are you here?”

“Uhh, same thing, actually. My friend—” You frown, remembering why the two of you ended up separating. “We also kinda… split.”

“Really? That’s crazy!” He bounces on his feet a little more excitedly than he should’ve. You find him as cute now as he was back then, despite not having bothered to remember his name.

Oh shit. What is his name, actually? You’d saved him in your contacts under ‘arcade guy’.

“So, umm. There’s uhh—there’s an electronics store one floor below. W-Would you like to try the new VR-Headset with me? Pretty sure they offer a round of Payday 2 for free if we ask,” arcade guy proposes shyly, gauging your reaction and threading between taking his word back or letting you answer.

He definitely sees hesitation in your face, but you just put the mug back in its place and then smile at him.

“Sure, fuck it. Why not?”

“Fuck—! There’s only one bag left, hurry!” gamer dude exclaims, but unfortunately, you’re downed again.

“Shit, this VR shit is tripping me out. I can’t aim for shit.”

“It’s ok, hold, hold, hold—I got you!”

By the time he ‘got’ you though, a dozer fucks him up and you both lose miserably. You take your headset off and notice that both of you were kind of sweaty and out of breath.

“Oh, shit! What’s the time? Shit, shit, shit.” He puts the headset and the controllers back in place and looks at his phone. You do the same. “Ahhh, he’s so gonna kill meee!” He panics after reading presumably a text on his phone, proceeding to walk off. “Gotta find my friend again, but it was really, really fun! See you ‘round!” 

He’s waving at you, but before he can leave, you subconsciously reach two fingers and yank him by the back of his collar.

“Urk—!” he coughs, getting mildly strangled by the material before shooting you a nervous look. “What was that for?”

“I uhh… I never got your name, actually—and I had fun too.” You are of course lying, but you know this, which is why you look away feeling guilty.

“P-Pretty sure I told you my name last time.” The guy fidgets with the collar of his t-shirt, a blush spreading on his acne-ridden skin.

Not cutting you any slack, huh?

“I know, I know. I’m really sorry for—”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to force yourself, really!” He laughs nervously. “I really enjoyed gaming with you, though. At the arcade and here too, but I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable or anything when I asked you to come here on a whim. I’m the one who’s sorry.”

“N-No, listen,” you begin, staring at your shoes and feeling remorseful. “There’s nothing wrong with you and I’m not forcing myself. I’m just really, really bad at maintaining human connections. I push everyone away, not just you. So don’t, uhh. Don’t feel bad about it, okay? I was wrong. I’d really like to game with you again sometime. It really is fun.”

You reach your sweaty-ass hand out for a handshake. He stares at it hesitantly for a second and then takes it.

“Honest?” he asks.

“Honest,” you answer.

“That’s fucking awesome!” He bounces on his feet before adding, “I-I was actually replaying that night in my head over and over, trying to figure out what I did to mess up…”

You must’ve made a face, because he quickly tries to rectify. “I-I mean! It’s okay now. I’m also… bad at making friends. So I like—understand.” His phone goes off, startling him in the process. “Shit, shit, shit. Gotta run!” He spins on his foot and paces away. 

“Name’s Shuichi, by the way!” Shuichi shouts at you on his way out and you smile, waving at him and pulling out your phone to make sure his name gets properly saved this time around.

It doesn’t take long for you to follow, making your way out of the tech store and leaning on the railing of the floor as you throw one last look at the mall’s exit, watching long purple hair bouncing around from a jog to catch up with… goth dude? They know each other?

Immediately after, Taylor calls you up.

“So. I bought you some shit I know you’ll like.” They let out a charming giggle before continuing, “Oh, your Holiness! Will you ever forgive me for hooking up in the forbidden changing rooms?” Your friend gasps. “Do you wanna know what his dick looks like?! You know how he has piercings all over? Well—”

“Ew, ew, ew! Gross! Taylor, please—” You grimace, praying they were joking.

“Oh my god, he also really wanted to have your number btw! I didn’t give it to him ‘cos I didn’t want you to bitch at me, but we’ll see him at the party! Girl, I’m so excited for Saturday!” They squeal into your ear. “Hold on! Don’t move! I think I see youuu! You’re that gloomy bitch that’s bent over the railing, right?”

Your friend waves at you enthusiastically with like thirty bags in their hands, all the way from the other side of the floor. How they even spotted you from the other side of the mall will forever be a complete mystery to you.

“Can we leave now? I wanna go home.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, babes. Bet ya bought like, at least three stupid games from the nerd store while I was getting that dick. Don’t even lie to me, girl!” 

You blush, standing still and waiting for them to catch up to you. 

“Only one, actually.”

Both of you snort and break into a chuckle fit as they’re closing in. Your friend skips the last few steps to you, hooks their arm into yours and pulls you forward with them, as if it wasn’t you who was waiting for them this entire fucking time. “C’mon, we gotta catch the bus.”

“Okay, but you are buying your own fucking ticket this time around, right?”

“Riiiight.” They giggle.

You roll your eyes and smile at your friend, burning red eyes plaguing the back of your mind for the days to follow, as will the four little words that you swear you could still hear him speak into your ears.

“I fucking like you.”

[ryker-writes]

hello ! how are you ? well if you dont mind, please vil schoenheit x reader (from ramshackle, she always had a crush on him but never tell him being afraid of being rejected), we all know that vil can be mean but we still love him, the reader is very kind and always worried about him ( like she always try her best to make him feel better when he's not okay and feel loved, because he grow up with no mother, like a mother with her son having so much mercy on him), one day she'll looks at him with tears in her eyes, touching his face slowly then cries ( she always loved him and want to be in a relationship with him, but she's afraid of not being happy with him because sometimes he's mean, and arrogant, so she's lost inside not knowing what to do) and you can continue what will happend !! thank you and good luck !! ( the reader can be gender if you want i dont mind, sorry for my bad english >~< !!) 💕💖

heyo! I'm doing well thanks for asking! I'm very much enjoying writing requests. I enjoyed writing this! It's kind of soft moments with the TWST characters (especially one's like Vil) that I love. I was a little unsure of how to end it so sorry if it sounds awkward or Ooc. Anyway I hope I was able to do your request right and thank you so much for the request! <3

it was hard not to like Vil

he's very intelligent, talented, passionate, and hard working

not to mention his beauty

just looking at him is enough to take your breath away

but he had hundreds of fans who also saw this

and they wanted all of his attention

Vil was kind enough to give them plenty

he was always so nice to them

of course you liked Vil

he was always trying to help those around him look their best

Vil wanted to surround himself with people he deemed worthy

and that meant they had to look and act beautifully

he always was correcting others looks, language, and behavior

sure he could be mean about it sometimes and people often saw it as him bossing them around

but you always knew there was more to it than that

you knew that he simply strived for beauty in every aspect of his life and that included those around him

it was hard not to love Vil

very few get the opportunity to be alone with him

you considered yourself very lucky to be one of those people

it was getting late and almost time for the celebrity to rest for the night

he didn't say anything, but you could just feel that something was wrong

but when you asked he simply said nothing was wrong

a lie

you could tell

so even though he didn't tell you what was wrong, you reassured him that he could tell you if something was wrong

he just hummed and told you that you should probably be heading back to Ramshackle and he has to get ready for bed anyway

after all you shouldn't see Vil without his makeup and being less than perfect

he wouldn't want that to happen

but you just smiled at him

"You're already perfect without any of your makeup. Besides, your beauty goes beyond just your looks."

there was silence for a minute before he chuckled

"I suppose you're right. Thank you. You should be heading to bed though. Getting enough sleep will help your skin."

of course you loved Vil

but you would never tell him

you've seen how mean he can be to some people and he can really tear them down under the guise of helping them

Vil would never accept your love anyway

he had so many other fans that loved him, why would he choose you?

Vil had a rough day today, so naturally you were there for him

he had been standing in front of you and venting about all the trouble the first years caused

he was insulting all the first years as he talked

hearing him just absolutely tear into the first years had started something in your brain

would Vil talk about you like this if you did something wrong?

you love Vil, you truly do

but would you be able to take his insults day after day of being with him?

could you even be happy like that? being with the one you love but he treats you like that?

at some point Vil had stopped talking and was now fully facing you

he never liked being worried or stressed because it can cause wrinkles and acne, but there he was with a worried expression

you heard him ask why you were crying

you were crying? since when?

had your thoughts really driven you so far that you were crying in front of him?

he probably thinks of crying as an ugly thing right?

would he start insulting you here and now for doing something so ugly?

slowly, you reached out to cup his cheek

though you're not sure why you did so

he didn't push you away or try to stop you at all

he even leaned into your touch and sighed

"If you felt that strongly about the first years, you could have told me."

shaking your head you mumbled, "It's not that. I just..."

"You're tired of hearing me talk like this."

hesitantly you nodded

that may have been part of it, but he doesn't need to know the rest

he hummed, "I suppose I haven't been to kind lately. How horrible of me. You're too kind to me and I just stand here insulting everyone else."

gently, he set his hand atop yours and removed it from his face

his fingers intertwined with yours and he used his other hand to wipe the tears off your face

"This would be so much easier if you just confessed your feelings already."

w h a t

no really, what?

he knows????

how does he know?

was it obvious?

Vil seemed to sense your internal panic and chuckled

"I've had people fall in love with me before Darling. It's easy to recognize. I'm more surprised you haven't said anything. If you did then I'm sure all of this would be easier for you to talk about. So tell me, why haven't you?"

there was a moment of silence as you processed everything

once your brain had a moment to catch up, you told him

"I'm just a bit worried. You can be really mean sometimes, and I just...I don't know if I can handle that."

for a split second, he looked offended before sighing again

"I would never want to be mean or insult you, ever. You are the one person who doesn't need me to help with their appearance. Even I can't improve what's already perfect."

Of course, Vil loved you too

[oddest-oddish]

Entspannen

Generally, I'm an original fiction writer, but writer's block has me looking for another outlet, so here we are with a short piece, featuring a tired Felix and an introspective Ace.

Five years ago, if someone had told Ace he'd be awake at five in the morning to watch a game of football, he'd have asked how big the bet was. Sports betting wasn't his favorite, but for the right stakes, he could pretend to be a morning person for the day. If that someone had told him he'd be watching a football game with no money on the line, purely for enjoyment, at five am, in Germany he would have laughed.

Well, scratch that. If this hypothetical situation had happened five years ago, Ace would have been elated. An early morning on the other side of the world would be preferable to his current situation, spending his time running from monstrous creatures and living amongst similar victims between deadly encounters. He would have been skeptical, but maybe a little hopeful.

Ten years ago, if Ace had been told about his future in front of the television, then he would have laughed. Five, he'd have been happy to hear it. Now? He's downright amazed.

Here he was, sitting alone in a comfortable living room in southern Germany. The clock above the fireplace read 5:03, and a football match was underway. Ace was happy.

Ace had been surprised at how easy it was to fall back in love with the sport he used to admire as a kid. He'd found that Argentinian games could be streamed live, all the way in Coburg, and had started watching them in his free time. With his husband at work, he certainly had a lot of free time, especially when he was new to the country and had yet to make friends or find things to do. His hometown team was still one of the stronger ones, and Ace relearned that sports could be fun to watch, even without money on the line.

Ace yawned again and pulled his blanket further up his chest as he settled in on the couch: a massive L-shaped thing that Ace had originally balked at getting. It was simply too much couch for the two of them. But Felix had convinced him otherwise, and Ace had come to enjoy being able to put his feet up while facing the TV.

Ace found his mind wandering as the game began, drifting to the man sleeping upstairs. It had been only a couple years since the Entity had freed them. Ace expected his relationship with Felix to end when they left that realm, but Felix had surprised him, choosing to stay by his side. Now, they were living together in Germany, a fate Ace never would have expected, neither five nor ten years ago. How had he become so lucky? Maybe it was the universe apologizing for sending him into that realm in the first place; letting him leave with a much brighter life ahead.

Footsteps in the hallway behind him pulled Ace out of his thoughts. He glanced to his right and Felix entered the room. His hair had been mussed up and heavy bags jutted out beneath his eyes. He wore a pair of green flannel pajama pants and an old gray t-shirt just tight enough for Ace to admire his pecs, as the material clung to his upper body. Any other time, Ace would have been thrilled to see him.

Now however, was different. "What are you doing down here, love? You gotta go back to bed," Ace said, careful not to let his frustration strain his gentle tone. While a 5 am wake up wasn't unreasonable for Felix under normal circumstances, Felix had just spent the last four days cooped up in his office racing to finish his newest proposal. He'd been so busy working on his newest design, an expansion to an art museum in Munich, that the hours of sleep he'd gotten in the last three days could be counted on two hands.

When Felix returned to work, he'd slipped into his old routine; he stayed up too late and worked himself to the bone more often than not. He took meals in his home office and sometimes forgot to sleep. Ace knew that Felix was using his work as a release for the trauma the Entity had left behind, but still, he was getting lonely, and it hurt to see Felix working himself miserable.

After one too many nights alone Ace had finally sat down with Felix and asked him to lower his hours. After a long conversation that ended with tears and "i love you"s from the both of them, Felix had promised to work things out.

The issue was that architects have nothing if not an inconsistent schedule. Felix had explained to Ace that with different deadlines depending on the project, the amount of paperwork and reports that had to be done, and the different contractors and businesses he had to coordinate with, a set number of hours a week or a daily schedule was impossible. But he cut back on the number of projects he managed, delegating more to the different members of his firm. His business partner, Lauren, had been relieved to see Felix ease up on his work, even sending Ace an expensive bottle of wine as a thank you for "knocking some sense into him." Felix and Ace had settled into the best routine they could manage. When deadlines approached, Felix would still be extremely busy, but in between projects, he'd find time to wind down, and spend time with Ace. They'd found a comfortable pattern that worked for the both of them.

At least, it should be working. Because Ace knew that Felix had crawled into bed at midnight the night before, having send the last of the files over to the client. And after half of week of exhausting work, he certainly should not be downstairs. Ace had half a mind to drag him back upstairs himself.

"Babe, you promised you'd get some sleep after this. Please tell me you're not putting more on your plate," Ace continued, worry starting to slip into his words.

Felix brushed his concerns aside with a wave of a hand and crossed the room towards the couch. He picked up a large tan blanket on the way before making his way to where Ace sat. With a low grumble, he laid down on the couch, curling up on a ball perpendicular to Ace, laying his head in Ace's lap.

All at once, Ace was reminded of just how adorable Felix was when he was tired. He relaxed as Felix got comfortable beside him, relieved that he wasn't about to go do any more work. "Alrighty then, happy to have some company," he said, bringing one hand into Felix's short hair, absentmindedly rubbing his scalp.

"Missed you," said Felix. His eyes were closed and his breathes heavy as he spoke.

"I missed you too, but I'm glad you got everything done, love. Those sketches you showed me looked like some of your best yet. And Lauren's got someone to oversee the next couple stages, so we've got a few days to catch up." As Ace spoke, Felix grabbed at his free hand and squeezed it gently.

"Mm-hmm." Ace deciphered the hum as a yes and turned back to the game. Two players were arguing with the referee who held a red card in his hands. Well shit; losing a player this early would make things very difficult for his team. However, Ace didn't mind too much- seeing Felix curled up with him made it hard to be angry.

"Should I mute it?" he asked quietly. "Don't need to hear it to know what's going on." Felix just shook his head. Ace felt a rush of relief, especially because the remote was sitting on the coffee table out of reach, and getting up now would be downright cruel to both of them.

The game resumed on screen and Ace focused on it once again. Beneath him, Felix's breathing evened out as he fell asleep. Ace smiled. He could get used to this.

At halftime, the match was scoreless. Ace carefully pulled his phone out of his pocket, careful not to jostle Felix too much. He answered messages from Jeff and Jonah before opening the phone's camera. He made sure the flash and the shutter sound were both off before holding his phone up, pointing it down, and snapping a picture.

The quality wasn't great, but that wasn't important. The light of the television illuminated the left half of Felix's face. The tension in his expression had loosened, and he looked more at ease than he'd been in a week. Ace smiled down at him as a warm feeling stirred up in his chest. Love.

While stuck in the Entity's Realm, this feeling had always been accompanied with a pang of guilt. Ace never should have been so happy about the situation. He and Felix never should have met, let alone get together. The man had a girlfriend and a child on the way; he didn't deserve to be pulled out of his life and thrown into hell alongside Ace. In a kinder world, Felix never would have heard of Ace.

But the world was cruel enough to push them together, so they made something out of it. Ace was grateful to Felix for choosing him in the Entity's realm, but the feeling that they didn't belong there, didn't belong together, never went away.

Now though, they weren't looking over their shoulders, awaiting their next trial. Now they had real food, electricity, and indoor plumbing. Sleep didn't always come easy with the lingering nightmares, but when it did, there was a clean, warm bed instead of whatever dry ground they could find. And the love certainly came easy, without the feeling of guilt lingering in the back of Ace's mind.

When the second half starts, Ace turns his attention back to the screen. By some miracle, the game remains scoreless, despite the penalty the team is facing. While Ace is happy to see his team hanging on, he's mostly glad for the tie because going into overtime means he gets to stay here with Felix for another half hour.

Halfway through the overtime period, Ace's favorite player scored a goal. Instinctively, he jolted up in excitement, startling Felix in the process. His husband gasped as he woke up, looking around in confusion.

"Shit, I'm sorry about that," Ace said. He'd really hoped Felix would stay asleep for longer.

"Mmm, it's alright," said Felix, squinting at the television. He made no motion to get up, just rolled onto his side so he could see the game. "I do not want to change my sleeping schedule by a lot."

"Right 'cause getting up at 7 in the morning is normal for you." Ace sighed dramatically, with no real frustration. Some things never changed, and their opposing sleep schedules were likely one of them. Normally, by the time Ace saw Felix in the morning, he'd been up for a few hours, having gotten dressed and ready for the day. So in these rare opportunities, Ace reveled in seeing his husband sleepy and at ease. The cuddles were a nice bonus too.

The game ended 1-0 shortly after, but neither man made a move to get up or reach for the remote. Felix dozed off again and Ace pulled him closer, held him a little tighter. Eventually, Ace would get restless and Felix would get hungry. They'd have to move eventually. But for now, Ace could just sit here, holding the man he loved. For now, they could just be.

Thanks for reading. I really enjoyed writing these two together, and if anyone has any requests, I'm always looking for story ideas. More to come I hope, both between these two and some original works of my own.

[noxexistant]

Having more Delancey Thoughts so naturally I bring them to you:

(I'm in the "Morris is older" camp so feel free to substitute this with Oscar should you choose)

Jack doesn't like stealing, but he'll do it if any of his boys needs something and they can't get it any other way. Usually he doesn't get caught.

Until Morris catches him. Morris, whose pockets are also crammed with stolen food and a bottle of medicine from the apothecary.

Neither knows what to say. It's too awkward a situation.

"You gonna call a cop on me?" Jack asks.

Morris can't. He doesn't like the newsies, none of them, but he knows the struggle of trying to care for your younger sibling. Because Oscar hasn't had a decent meal in six days and he's been in pain all over for twice as many. And Morris doesn't care what he's got to do to make sure his brother gets what he needs.

"...We keep this 'tween us." Morris offers, "I don't like you, Kelly. But I know what bein' a big brother's like."

Jack doesn't know how to respond. The Delanceys don't show charity like this to anyone.

"You go home, you feed your brothers. You forget you saw me here, you don't mention it tomorrow at work."

Jack can't bring himself to ever thank a Delancey. Morris doesn't want to be thanked.

as always, i am eating your delancey thoughts eagerly. i am personally so deep in younger morris camp that i could not crawl out if i tried, BUT may i offer you:

jack and morris near collide with each other in the back aisle of a general store, far enough away from the lodging house that the clerk don’t watch them like the ones closer that know them do. jack’s got a couple combs stuffed into the waist of his trousers, a few pairs of socks stuffed down his shirt, toothbrushes, a specific kind of soap ‘cause buttons is allergic to the one they got, and one of them little sewing kits in a tin ‘cause there’s too many holes in all the boys’ clothes and they been out of anything to fix ‘em for way too long. winter’s setting in, jack’s stocking up.

morris don’t hardly look like he’s stocking up. he’s only got one thing, clutched tight in one hand - tight enough that jack can see the colour washing from his bruised knuckles. it must sting, but morris don’t seem to mind. his focus is single-minded, though he seems startled now. scared. reminds jack of when he knocks one of his boys out of a bad dream.

morris seems to get like that a lot. daydreaming. he’s been worse with it lately, while oscar’s been nowhere jack could ever see him. he has half a mind to ask where oscar’s been, but asking if morris is gonna snitch seems like a better question. and morris don’t say no - don’t say anything - but he at least sure don’t look like he’s gonna call the bulls. he looks awful, hair in tangled curls beneath his hat pulled low, eyes all sunk like he ain’t been sleeping, hands shaking. he’s glancing at the door, restless, squeezing one trembling hand around the little bottle in his palm.

medicine, jack realises suddenly.

something os won’t take, morris knows. he won’t take any medicine, swears it’s what took pa, and morris don’t often try to push the issue but oscar’s been bad, especially the last few days. can’t even get out of bed now. wiesel’s getting mad, and morris is tired, hungry, scared. he wants oscar better. wishes he knew what to do. almost wishes he could ask kelly - he’s got a lot of brothers, always seems like he knows what to do, surely must know what to do if any of his boys get sick - but morris can’t do that any more than he can ask the chemist he stole from.

jack’s talking more, morris thinks. he ain’t listening, can’t process a bit of it. it’s like he’s in another room.

“you gon’ call th’bulls on me?” morris finally manages to ask, stilted, cutting off jack mid-word without even realising. he doesn’t care anyway. he doesn’t like jack. he just wants to leave, wants to get back to oscar.

and jack ain’t stupid, despite what plenty people might think. he’s got brains enough to put together the puzzle of oscar delancey disappearing and morris delancey stealing medicine. and brains enough to understand and take advantage of morris clearly not caring about the stuff clearly shoved in jack’s pockets.

“you go get your brother better,” jack tells him, “i still got scores to settle with ‘im.”

morris needs no more encouragement. he disappears out the door, head bowed, back hunched.

it’s weeks later that jack sees oscar. it’s a different store - jack ain’t stupid enough to target the same place twice in a row. and maybe oscar got told by morris which store he used last time, because he’s here now too and this time it’s oscar with his pockets stuffed. his trouser pockets and the pockets of his woollen work coat are swollen with food, he looks like he’s got some socks or something stuffed up his sleeve. jack wonders if maybe he’s got some medicine too, because this time jack does - it’s all he’s got this time. sniper’s been hacking and wheezing.

“fancy seein’ you here,” jack says, just to be obnoxious. oscar bares his teeth, snarling like a dog, but he’s quiet and still.

“we’se even,” oscar tells him lowly. he only elaborates when jack gives him a confused look. “las’ time. mo told me ‘bout your little run-in. you kept it quiet then. so don’ squeal now either an’ we won’t have no issues.”

“what, we got a deal?” jack huffs, laughing, looking around the apparent no man’s land of the general store. an innocuous space where the delanceys won’t be themselves for once. “this a truce?”

oscar don’t laugh.

“i know what it’s like to be a big brother,” he forces out. jack stops laughing too, the bottle of medicine suddenly feeling heavier in his hand. “so you go home, an’ you get your brothers better. an’ i’ll get mine fed. an’ we both forget we saw each other here.”

oscar glances pointedly at jack’s pockets like his own ain’t filled to bursting, but jack supposes it makes sense when it’d been the reverse the last time. morris’d probably exaggerated it too, made it sound like jack was robbing the place blind.

“i don’ like you,” jack tells him. “an’ your brother neither.”

“i’on like you,” oscar says right back. “so we’se even. an’ hopefully we won’ never see each other again outside a’ work.”

jack knows there are only so many stores within their very specific radius to steal from.

“see you at work,” he says instead of saying that, bidding oscar off with a two-finger salute and a grin. oscar glares and goes, straightening himself up and walking with the intent to scare.

jack glances at the medicine in his pocket once he’s gone. the same kind - near enough - as morris’d been stealing that night. must be decent stuff, if it got oscar back to this.

jack takes it.

[rickie-the-storyteller]

Get To Know My OC Tag!

This'll probably be the first of many since this was sooo much fun to do lol.

I was going to do this with Steph… but I felt more drawn towards El today for some reason. Probably because I've been editing a lot more of her scenes/chapters lately. So Elise, I choose you!

Thank you for tagging me, @gummybugg!

Let's begin!

__________

The door opens, and 18-year-old Elise Kennedy enters the room. She walks with graceful strides that indicates the quiet confidence she holds within her. She is a pretty girl - long wavy blonde hair styled in a messy bun, crystal clear blue eyes sparkling with joy and curiosity (despite being baggy from that high school stress and sleep deprivation), and a bright beaming smile that honestly does a better job of lighting up the room than my terrible cheap lamp does. She appears to be about 5'6, if I'm not wrong.

She extends a hand in greeting, radiating an immediate sense of warmth and sincerity. Her voice, I notice straight away is soft warm and gentle. It carries an undertone enough to put you at ease in an instant. Then she takes her seat.

I know I've only just met her, but she seems nice.

1) Are you named after anyone?

Elise: Uh, no. Not after a person, I don't think. Although, I do know how I got my name. My late grandmother was really into classical music, and she came up with the suggestion of "Elise" for me when I was born because one of her favourite pieces of music was "Für Elise" by Beethoven. When I was little, she actually taught me how to play it on the piano, too! That was a fun time… yeah. But to answer your question, no. Not that I know of.

2) When was the last time you cried?

Elise: I don't know… hmm, let me think. This is actually a deep question when you think about it.

Me: It is??

Elise: Wait! Do you mean, like proper crying? Bawling like a baby? Or do you mean like welling up, but not actually making a sound?

Me: Uh…

Elise: If you mean the first one, then probably last week. I was watching a really sad movie with my brother, and I just couldn't help it. If you mean the second one, then… I don't know. To be honest, it happens on a regular basis. So probably yesterday or something. I try not to be overly emotional all the time, but I'm a sensitive soul, what can I say? (pause) OH! I remember now!

Me: You do?

Elise: It was two weeks ago! Ok, let me explain - I have this friend who really loves music. His name is Bret, and something he likes to do as a hobby is write and produce his own songs, right? And two weeks ago, he sent me an email with a link to his SoundCloud. He posts all his songs there now, its amazing! Anyway, he asked me for feedback on the first song he uploaded on there. So I listened to it, and it made me cry. It was very deep and moving. I loved it… (laughs awkwardly) I feel like my answers are way too long, ha-ha! Sorry about that.

Me: Don't be sorry. This is good!

Elise: I'll send you a link to Bret's SoundCloud! You need to listen to it yourself, so you know what I'm talking about.

Me: Would your friend mind?

Elise: Uh… (pauses for a while to wonder whether or not Bret would actually mind) Probably not?

3) Do you have kids?

Elise: Uh, no. Nor do I want any - at least not right now. I'm still a school kid! (pause) I know I'm 18, so legally I count as an adult, but I still feel like a kid, honestly. And I think that just as a general rule, if you feel like a kid or act like a kid, you probably shouldn't raise a kid.

4) Do you use sarcasm?

Elise: (thinks for a moment, then nods) Yeah. Not as often as some people do, but sometimes it's just necessary, especially when you're dealing with difficult or incompetent people.

5) What's the first thing you notice about people?

Elise: I feel like I'm naturally quite good at reading people, you know? Like, even with people I don't know all that well, I can just look at them and have a good idea of how they're feeling, what their thinking, what they're like. And it's usually pretty accurate, as well. I'm quite intuitive in that sense. I think this is also the reason I connect well with others even if they're very different from me. Like, I'm an introvert, and I'm generally rather quiet and mind my own business most of the time, but quite a lot of my friends are super energetic extroverted people. I think its fun to be curious, you know? Like, taking the time to understand and empathise with a person. You form closer bonds with people that way.

6) What's your eye colour?

Elise: Blue! You see? (opens eyes wide so that I can see their colour)

7) Any special talents?

Elise: Hmm. I don't know if any of my talents count as "special" or anything. I have talents… like, back when I used to perform in my old choir, I was known for being able to hold notes for really, really long. My record back then was like 47 seconds. But it's been years since then, and I probably can't do it anymore. Anything else? (pauses to think for a second) Don't know whether this counts, but I'm really good at memorising things. My brother says I have a memory sharper than a katana… which I think says everything you need to know about him. (laughs) But like, to give an example, I can read a book and basically be able to quote it word for word afterwards. Or watch a show, and be able to recite every line in a given scene. It's quite helpful as a student, actually. Makes the studying process a bit smoother. Not that I don't work hard for my grades, because I do. I don't consider myself to be a mega-super-genius or anything.

8) Scary movies or happy endings?

Elise: Are you kidding me?! Happy ending all the way! I can't sit through a horror movie for the life of me. I hate scary stuff, I just don't like the feeling of terror. I don't get why some people actually like it. I mean some people have to like it, right? There has to be a reason that the horror genre has a market.

9) Where were you born?

Elise: Born and raised in London, baby!

10) What are your hobbies?

Elise: Reading, first of all. I love to read so much. I always have.

Me: What is the book you're reading currently?

Elise: Right now, I'm re-reading "Normal People" by Sally Rooney. It's so good, I highly recommend it. But aside from reading, I like music a lot. Not as much as Bret, but I love to play a bit of piano whenever I have the time, and I also love to sing still. Even though I'm not in my old choir anymore.

Me: Why did you stop if you clearly loved doing it?

Elise: (sighs) It was a toxic environment for me… I needed a break from some of those people. I don't really want to get into it.

Me: Ooookay… (slightly concerned)

11) Do you have any pets?

Elise: No, and I've always wanted one! (pouts) It didn't even matter what it was! My parents aren't about that, though. Ugh! (pause) Maybe in the future, I'll get a puppy. I love dogs so much!

12) What sports do you play/have played?

Elise: None. (laughs) I've never been a sporty person.

13) How tall are you?

Elise: Five foot five. And a bit, depending on what shoes I'm wearing.

14) Favourite subject in school?

Elise: These questions are getting harder… (laughs) I don't know what my favourite subject is. I like all my subjects… I chose four subjects I really enjoy for A level. English Lit, Politics, History and Textiles. I like all of them for different reasons. Even when I struggle with one of them, and it is my least favourite one day, I can't bring myself to hate it… and it ends up being my favourite subject the next day.

Me: Well, tell me why you like all of your subjects.

Elise: Ok! So English Lit is because I love literature, as you may have inferred before from what I said about reading… Politics is because I just find that aspect of the world interesting, you know? I mean, I never used to, but once I started taking this class, I just found it fascinating. Just seeing how that stuff works. History was my strongest subject back when I did my GCSEs, so I was like "I have to do it again next year!" And Textiles… I don't know, I just find it peaceful. It's a chill subject to balance out the crazy intense ones. (laughs again)

15) Dream job?

Elise: In my dreams, I have all kinds of different jobs. Just last night I had a dream that I was this therapist, right, and all of my friends from work were coming into my office to ask for help with their love lives, despite the fact that I literally have no dating experience and am therefore the least qualified person to ask for help in that department. Man… why would you even go to your therapist just to ask about your love life anyway? Is that the only thing in your life that's bothering you?! The ONLY thing?!

Me: …That's not what I meant.

Elise: Yeah, I know. I just wanted to talk about my weird dream for a second. I don't know what my dream job is. As a child, my dream job was to be an author, like Cressida Cowell. I used to love her books growing up. I wanted to write just like her… create this huge epic fantasy series… have that series get turned into movies… but I couldn't come up with any original ideas. So I gave up.

Me: Awww…

Elise: Oh, it's okay. I still write a bit sometimes for fun. But in terms of an actual career, I'm stuck between two things - a lawyer, and a journalist.

Me: Two completely different things.

Elise: Yep. Lawyer because it's something I've been working towards all my life, pretty much. I mainly did it because my parents always said that it's a promising career to have. But journalism is just so fascinating to me. It's like being a writer, except you don't need to come up with original ideas. Plus, you get to explore the world, discover exciting new people and places and cultures and events… and tell stories that don't often get heard. It's like the career was made for me!

Me: It does, doesn't it? Well, I'm sure you'll make the right choice for yourself. Thanks for coming, Elise. This has been fun.

Elise: Of course! Thank you for having me.

END OF INTERVIEW.

__________

This was so much fun! I want to make this an open tag, but I'll just tag these three people to give it a go as well:

@rubywrite

@soph1333

@winterandwords

[perfumetm]

[  SONG KANG,  THIRTY,  CIS MAN,  HE/HIM  ]  and  now  walking  on  the  red  carpet  is  DAEYONG  “DEAN”  KWON,  we’re  honored  to  be  in  the  presents  of  a  world  class  MODEL/FILM ACTOR.  they  say  that  they’re  the  embodiment  of  CARRY ON WAYWARD SON  by  KANSAS,  we  can’t  argue  with  that  one  !  rumor  has  it  that  they’re  RESENTFUL  and  ALTRUISTIC.  we  often  hear  fans  online  compare  them  to  FOUND FAMILY, CLOTHES BEING COVERED IN CAT HAIR (HAVING A LINT ROLLER IN HANDY), A SOFTNESS IN THEIR EYES, & SLEEPING DURING THE DAY FROM ROAMING EMPTY STREETS LATE AT NIGHT.  we  heard  that  there’s  this  one  thing  they  don’t  wish  anybody  to  know;  HIS PARENTS ARE DOING EVERYTHING THEY CAN TO TEAR HIM DOWN (WHETHER IT HURTS HIM PHYSICALLY, EMOTIONALLY, OR NOT),  let’s  hope  it’s  not  true  !  [  FRANKIE;  27,  SHE/HER,  CST.  ]

BASICS  !

FULL NAME.          DAE-YONG  KWON     ⧽     권 대용 NICKNAME(S).          DEAN AGE.          30  YEARS  OLD DATE OF BIRTH.          SEPTEMBER  4TH ASTROLOGICAL SIGN.          VIRGO PLACE OF BIRTH.          JEJU  ISLAND,  SOUTH  KOREA HOMETOWN.          LONDON,  ENGLAND ORIENTATION.          BISEXUAL  &  BIROMANTIC GENDER & PRONOUNS.          CIS  MAN  &  HE ┊ HIM ┊ HIS NATIONALITY.          KOREAN-ENGLISH ETHNICITY.          KOREAN  —  (  EAST  ASIAN  ) RELIGION.          ATHEIST SPOKEN LANGUAGES.          KOREAN &  ENGLISH RELATIONSHIP STATUS.          SINGLE  PRINGLE CURRENT LOCATION.          LONDON,  UK,  ENGLAND OCCUPATION.          MODEL  &  FILM  ACTOR FACE CLAIM.          SONG  KANG

SYNOPSIS !

DAEYONG KWON WAS BORN & RAISED IN SOUTH KOREA. a model since his infancy (more like the family’s cash cow 👀) - dean has always had a CUTE AND HANDSOME face ever since he could babble, and that would get him booked endlessly. guess we could say he’s been working for as long as he can remember.

IN TERMS OF SCHOOL, he graduated from high school (12th year) and went on to university to graduate with a degree in film at the age of twenty-one. daeyong managed to graduate early because he continued his classes either online or in-person—to get school out of the way/over with—during the summer.

SINCE HE’S BEEN MODELING FOR THE LONGEST TIME, he’s been able to do runway and walk for prestigious fashion designers across the globe - be it in new york, milan, paris, or wherever, he’s happy to walk and bring light to those big or small. he knows that some people gravitate towards him / has a level of power to bring attention to whatever means A LOT to him. but he means well !

THIS KID DOESN’T HAVE A BAD BONE IN HIS BODY. he’s the Softest Boi™ on the planet and a little too pure (well, not that pure) for his own good. he’s too kind sometimes and maybe he knows that often people use his kindness against him, but he simply does not care at the same time. his parents, on the other hand, are something else. unfortunately.

HE’S BEEN ABLE TO SURROUND HIMSELF WITH GOOD PEOPLE, anyhow. he has a good heart and is grateful for those around him, especially a particular handful — his friend group, to be exact, whom he chooses to keep close to his ‹3 [heart]. no matter how busy life can get, dean’s the one (1) friend who will be there for you through thick and thin.

AFTER BEING IN SEVERAL FILMS, he still considers himself a rookie actor despite making a name for himself outside of modeling. daeyong feels like he hasn’t gotten on a level that he’s always strived for and has so much to learn.

THE MIDDLE CHILD OF HIS FAMILY. well, sort of? daeyong has an older sibling and two (2) younger siblings—the 4th is less than 8teen years old. in his mother & father’s eyes, dean’s the only one that could do wrong? while his siblings don’t? he is estranged from his parents but not from his siblings. it’s the messiest situation and he loathes it. doesn’t talk about his parents at all and never brings them up in conversations either.

TRIES TO KEEP HIS PRIVATE LIFE AWAY FROM PRYING EYES. dude is so quiet sometimes; you might think he’s an orphan or something. he might as well be with how his parents are acting. there have been rumors here and there, but he doesn’t bother saying a word, clearing the air, nothing. daeyong really tries to keep his life as mysterious as possible. even if he’s the most endearing boy on the planet.

FOR A SUPPOSED ROOKIE (in his own words), daeyong feels like he has a lot of potential in the acting world, even if he’s just a boy with a pretty face. he has only been in a few handful of flicks and chooses them carefully, but isn’t too fearful to venture out of his comfort zone. he finds auditions to be incredibly exhilarating but also nerve-wracking. he’s an odd boy with mood swings, let’s be honest.

i’ve never been able to write mean characters (afab/men specifically), so please accept and love my sweet / soft boi with open arms... because i’ve got nothing else to say.

WANTED CONNECTIONS !

mentor (???!!!)

ex-girlfriend or current (something cute for once, maybe? or angsty? fluff?)

will they, won’t they (might be fun, i don’t know)

pr relationship

fellow model acquaintances (they’ve walked the runway together??)

siblings (!!!! but i think i’ll send a wc to the main?)

a cousin or two (these connections are so underrated)

mother/father figure

travel buddies

anything atp !

[gunsturbation]

i wrote out a response a while ago but my mother walked in 3/4ths through and now i have to start all over again. fuck me. 

istfg i bit my pillow when i saw ur reply. really living up to the feral part of my name, glad i didn’t choose spit anon. unless you’re into spit, which i can totally work with. 

things im thinking of

my black denim jacket that i’m no longer allowed to wear with my school uniform

crush by ethel cain

complicated relationships with a parent; you love them but you hate them; they hate you but they love you, then they hurt you

tits and how i constantly sexualise mine and in fact i hate hate hate having them even though it's my only distinctive feature (not that it's even noticeable most of the time because i slouch)

scrolling through old chats, pictures and screenshots just to feel something. even if that's all the hurt and hate or love i went through a long time ago, and is it even really me if i'm so different now?

all the people i no longer talk to: i'm glad i cut some of them out, i hate the person they've become- but haven't they always been that way? the people that i never really knew to begin with but i see even less of now, if at all. the people i watched from afar or the people i knew so intimately before pushing them away.

wanting to be numb. stealing cough syrup at my grandparents' house. stealing pain meds from my mothers  cabinet at the age of 11. adding a splash gin into a bottle of orange juice to drink before chem lab. 

the artwork my friends have given me. loud loud music on my headphones at all times. playlists about every stupid crush. the time and potential i waste away to escape from my life. 

struggling to wake up because dreaming is so much better. dreaming about being asked out/ accidentally shooting someone/ being a guitar technician even though i can’t play shit/hospitals/dead distant relatives who are possessed

just things i think about too much or too little but am deeply affected by. i talk about myself a lot but i hope i don’t sound too self centred(which i definitely can be). i find it awkward to constantly ask about someone else so i try to share more about myself and the other person can just talk about whatever they want to. i think i like to bring up my experiences when people are talking about their own as a way to relate, not to make it about myself. (a very long winded way of me saying i’d love to hear about you too, whenever or however you’d like- email or whatever works mostly because i don’t use instagram anymore and i still want to stay anonymous)

it’s pretty late now so ily and i’m gonna go sleep. 

no way someone is that excited to talk to me that they bite their pillow and stuff lmao

but

im actually so sorry that you have to wear a school uniform, like i could never

I LOVE THAT SONG

so real, especially since my dad worked so hard to give me a good life - we used to live with my grandparents when i was a kid because we simply couldnt afford a house on our own. and he worked so hard and literally has two jobs now so we can live a good life. and he wants me to have a good life. but he fucked up when i was a kid, he wasnt a good parent and gave me some really horrible daddy issues and i just cant love him in these conditions

so real for the slouching. i have scoliosis i think

i used to do that so often but i get hit with the worst nostalgia and i just realized that i dont like to remember my past friendships and relationships. it hurts to remember that i went through getting hurt so much but i was also loved so deeply and now nothing of it is left

it really hurts to lose people cause i get attached so easily so i get that. i miss everyone even if i hate them

so real. i do everything just to numb myself. my entire body is covered in scars, more or less visible ones. i smoke and i drink. i inhale chemicals cause they get me a little high. i dont really like feeling things

the dreaming thing is not very real to me honestly. my dreams are pretty fucked most of the time and i have a lot of trauma dreams and a lot of them are about the guy that assaulted me. i tend to purposely not fall asleep just to avoid seeing him and feeling his hands on me again

you're so relatable to me honestly. like, you just get me. i feel like you're the sylwia to my dominik kind of but not exactly

anyway i know you're probably already asleep but goodnight feral anon<3

[keefwho]

September 08 - 2024 Sunday

10:58pm

5.5/10

The first chunk of today was a blur, as usual I took a long time cooking breakfast and I wasn't sure how to start my day. Part of me wanted to spend a lot of time in Cities Skylines but I didn't get around to that. I couldn't even watch my shows because the internet was bad. I kinda messed around and did nothing until JD was free to hang out. We played Planetary Annihilation for a good while. We started off against 2 "bronze" AIs which absolutely swamped us. It was pathetic. Then we fought each other but using only bot factories and I totally smoked him. He got a little frustrated though so I felt a little bad. Although I also feel good because of how he was always the winner when we were kids, especially when it came to RTS games. We hopped on VRchat for a little after that so he could show me this world he found. I didn't think it was very good tbh, especially with the world size but he thought it was cozy. At this point I was feeling the need to talk a little deeper so I asked him how he was. We talked about whats been stressing each other out a bit and that helped. I think he got a lot of benefit out of that, more than me today. Right now and the past couple days I've been feeling strong, like I've been staying true to myself well, making plans, and sticking to decisions. My big focus has been on making sure I'm being myself. I think thats the only requirement I need to have friends or be loved. Also if I keep sacrificing who I am too much for others, I will not be able to take it anymore. I'm forced to respect myself lest I snap.

I was peaking at mods and stuff for PA when DS let me know she was free. We watched some youtube, took a practice drivers test, and then she bought Hades so she could stream it. We moved to my server for that. It was a lot of fun, it was more pleasant to watch than I thought it would be. I knew I'd have fun either way but I really got into it. Unfortunately someone annoying joined for awhile but he did leave eventually. He was backseating and doing that thing where he talks to his pets out loud WAY too much without anyone having any context for what he's doing. DS and I would be trying to listen to the dialogue but he'd be yapping to his dog. In bed we did classic puzzles. I felt like I shared a good sentiment to DS tonight which is not caring or giving into people that might think something about you. Its really toxic behavior I've learned and I hope that sometimes I can help quell that kind of thing because I don't like to see her or anyone else I care about losing themselves to others. I think I'm right with this new emphasis on being myself and I want to spread that to others. True connection happens between 2 entities that identify each other as separate beings. And we can only do that when we act like our own being knowing we will be accepted for it. Either entity bending to the will of the other creates an unbalanced dynamic which often results in harm.

I think a lot like a sleep schedule is the foundation of all scheduling, being yourself is the foundation of many things as well. It's a core requirement to pursue anything higher effectively.

Lately being myself includes accepting how I feel and loving strongly. It also includes making the tough decision to enforce more boundaries and take care of myself in an attempt to be more effective at contributing to my environment in the ways I choose to. Thats whay I want, to be a well functioning individual that helps improve areas I personally think need it. I also want to help my loved ones and let them know that I love them very deeply. It's something I was a little ashamed to admit because my behavior has often been pointed out to be problematic or undesirable. Over time I've taken to believe that my form of "love" is unwelcome so I cannot experience it anymore. I'm not allowed. But I am. Maybe I have made mistakes in the past but they do not bar me from experiencing a basic human need and trying to do it right. I love. I love a lot. I refuse to hide it.

[sarcasticdolphin]

Smrtolf. “Gifted Feather” For the amazing @adridoesstuff as all my smrtolf drabbles are. Cut is for length, but there is angst.

There might be more typos than usual - the one is long and it is getting late.

Rudolf is late, and the sun has long since set when the roof of Mayerling comes into view. Escaping Vienna had been more of a chore than usual, but the sloping roof of the hunting lodge is a most welcome sight.

The servants are sparse as Rudolf dismounts, as he offers the horse’s reins to a groom. Most will be in bed by now, and he doesn’t keep a large staff here in the first place.

It’s silent as he opens the door to his chambers, ever so gently shutting it behind him. Smrt’s angels will be asleep, and he doesn’t want to wake them. 

The soft whimpers draw Rudolf’s attention immediately. He had been ever so carefully looking to see that there were enough proper perches, that none of the birds had ended up on the floor if they did not choose to be there, but the sound is impossible to ignore.

His own bed is occupied, but it always is here, and Rudolf is usually glad for it. Glad to see the angels snuggling into the vast bed that was so obviously for more than one. It felt empty when it was only him.

But the sight that greets him is most unusual. Aemilia is there, that’s normal, but she’s not a raven, but rather in her more human form, and the source of the noise. A nightmare, then. There’s never been one before when Smrt wasn’t there to calm her, but Rudolf quickly shrugs off his jacket and sits on the bed beside her, brushing the other angels, all still crows or ravens, who were trying to nuzzle her off and pulling her into his arms. Smrt usually sings, but Rudolf doesn’t know the song so he just hums, cradling her close. 

And slowly, ever so slowly, the whimpers quiet and she stills. Rudolf is still holding her close, and humming, when he looks down to see her soft eyes looking up at him.

“Thank you.” Her voice is so quiet it almost breaks Rudolf’s heart, and he pulls her closer, pressing a kiss to her brow.

They rest like that for a long moment before Aemilia shifts, standing up and undoing the ties of her jacket, tossing it over the back of a chair. 

Her garb underneath is black, and far more Roman than the jacket. A loose, flowing, floor-length dress.

Rudolf for his part follows her lead. The buttons on his jacket had come open the moment he’d stepped in the door, but he sheds the garment entirely and takes his boots off, letting out a sigh of relief. 

He’s only gone from the main room a few minutes at most to slip into his sleeping gear, but Aemilia is already back in his bed when Rudolf returns, nuzzling into the pillow she is so fond of when Ruodlf isn’t here.

Rudolf slips into the bed beside her and cautiously pulls the angel into his arms. She stiffens ever so momentarily, but then happily nuzzles into his touch, content to be tucked into his side.

He hums again as sleep comes for them, surrounded by all the others, but there is a note of melancholy. Smrt can��t always be here - even as Rudolf’s father has the empire, Smrt has the entire world. In all honesty, Rudolf is surprised Aemilia is able to be here so much. Smrt clearly depends on her, and she almost seems like one of his ministers.

But still, Rudolf misses his friend.

----------

It was closer to dawn than dusk when Smrt arrived at his prince’s hunting lodge. 

The scene itself wasn’t objectionable. Smrt’s angels slept cuddled together more often than not, especially in his realm. It could have been a scene out of his realm, two angels happily sleeping together, nuzzled in each other’s arms, and Smrt would have smiled. His sweet angels tended to be so shy at first, and he was always happy when they opened up to each other. But he hates the scene before him.

Rudolf and Aemilia are cuddled close to each other, Aemilia properly tucked into Rudolf’s arms, into the crook of his neck, really. Her jacket was discarded, tossed over a chair. The others were in their normal places, save for a very young angel who evidently hadn’t been able to sleep and had decided the best course of action was for him to undo Aemilia’s braid as she slept. 

It served her right, thought a part of Smrt. The little pied crow looked far too pleased with himself as he saw Smrt, nodding to his work before fluttering up to Smrt’s hand and happily nuzzling his cheek.

Smrt for his part can tell how tired the little angel is, and points to an empty perch. The little thing’s head droops for a moment and it nuzzles him once more before obediently heading off to the perch, leaving Smrt once more with the vexing scene before him.

They were still peacefully sleeping together, his prince and his favorite angel, happily tucked in each other’s arms, even as was common amongst his flock. 

Because Rudolf was of the flock already, even if Smrt hadn’t blessed him with wings yet.

Smrt turns away from the bed where the pair rests, checking on some of the other angels instead, all spread out on perches or cushions. But his thoughts continued to spiral.

Aemilia had always been his personal companion, more so than many of the others. And Rudolf is his prince.

The youngest of his flock - Edwin was the sweet thing’s name - fluttered up to Smrt’s shoulder and he turned his attention again to the pied crow, pressing a kiss to his head and humming softly as he cradled the bird and gazed out the window, his thoughts still on the pair behind him.

The hand at the small of his back is ever so gentle, followed by a chin that can only just hook over his shoulder.

“You’re projecting.” Aemilia nuzzles the side of his neck.

Smrt gives her a glare and kisses the pied crow on his wrist one more time before launching the little bird in the direction of a perch.

“We’re both yours, more than I think either of us can even say.” She’s properly in his arms now, nuzzling closer. “He dreams of no one but you, and-” She takes his hand and places it over her heart. “You know my heart, Bird-boy.”

“The last time you called me Bird-boy you earned yourself a stint watching over a polar expedition. Are you so eager to go on another one?” He nuzzles her as he says it. “Brat.”

“Your brat.”

He kisses her forehead ever so gently.

“You’d miss me.”

“You think I didn’t the first time?”

“You did, but Rudolf would miss me this time.”

And Smrt can deny his prince nothing. 

“Brat.” He mutters once more. 

She goes up on her tiptoes to brush a kiss to his cheek. Yours.

There is a faint sound from behind them as Rudolf turns over. The little pied crow hadn’t gone to the perch Smrt had directed him to, but rather to sit beside Rudolf. Edwin’s reflexes had been good enough that Rudolf hadn’t rolled on him, but with Aemilia missing Rudolf had decided that the pied crow would be his next cuddling partner, much to Edwin’s distaste. But they all knew how much Smrt adored Rudolf, and so Edwin only looked forlornly as Smrt and Aemilia by the window.

Aemilia gracefully rescued the errant little crow from Rudolf’s grasp, placing him on a perch with a firm look. 

Then she took Smrt by the hand, tugging him over to the bed where his perfect prince rested.

They both sat against the headboard, Aemilia’s head on Smrt’s shoulder, eyes occasionally going down to the sleeping prince as they rested there in silence. 

The pink rays of dawn faded into gold, and Smrt found himself watching Rudolf more and more. His prince looked so beautiful in the light, the golden sun reflecting so richly on his hair. The lives of mortals were so ephemerally short, and Rudolf wanted him so badly anyway. Would it really be a harm if he took the prince into his arms? Rudolf was already of his flock, and Aemilia had told him of the little feathers in the prince’s hair.

Smrt would confess that he rather selfishly wanted to be the one to groom those little feathers. To feel Rudolf purr beneath his touch.

Eventually, though, he glances down to see half-lidded eyes on his lovely prince’s face, and Rudolf is moving ever so slightly to nuzzle into Aemilia’s lap, and her hands are in his hair, delicately carding through it, revealing the little iridescent feathers and tending to them, preening them.

It’s lovely to watch even if Smrt finds his fingers twitching at the thought of it being Aemilia’s fingers that draw the little purrs from his prince rather than his own.

Would it be so bad to bless Rudolf here and now? It will be here, eventually. Smrt would never dream of doing it in Vienna, with his prince constantly looking over his shoulder. No, it will be here. And the other angels have gone, only Aemilia remaining. What would be the harm, to give his prince the wings now, to bless him well and truly? He’s already of the flock. He ought to be an angel, then.

A none-too-gentle elbow from Aemlia together with a nasty look breaks Smrt from his thoughts and he looks down at Rudolf again. His hand is very close to Rudolf’s cheek, and his prince is eyeing it. He wants it. They want it. 

The little feather that Aemilia offers to Rudolf breaks his prince’s concentration, and Rudolf focuses entirely on the tiny thing, angling it in the light and ever so carefully inspecting it before glancing up and Smrt and handing it back to Aemilia.

She tucks the feather into Smrt’s jacket lapel a moment later and Smrt can’t help the look he gives Rudolf - all softness. He’s always adored his prince so much, and Rudolf only gives him more reasons to do so every day.

Rudolf for his part blushes, sitting up beside Aemilia, and glances over at Smrt ever so shyly before pressing a kiss to Aemilia’s cheek. She turns and presses a kiss in the same place on Smrt’s cheek, but Smrt’s eyes never leave his precious prince. His beautiful, precious prince.

Ever so gently he places a kiss on her cheek, and she turns to Rudolf to bestow the kiss. His sweet prince is well and truly blushing a moment later, but his eyes remain on Smrt’s, and Smrt can’t help but to gaze on his beautiful prince. 

It’s not perfect. It can’t be until Rudolf has wings, but Smrt never wants this moment to end.

[lgcwookjin]

MAX.

max is beyond tired but he wouldn’t rather be anywhere else but here. they’ve both been busy; in between lgc spring boys schedules, wook’s schedules and himself starting university, they more often than not were reduced to video calling more than actually seeing each other.

so sue max for passing on sleep to make time for his boyfriend to do a late celebration for their 6th months anniversary. retreated into wook’s old trusted bedroom over at his grandma’s place, he has his head pillowed on his boyfriend’s legs while he musters up the courage to hand over his present burning a hole into his pocket.

“so I uh… wanted to like… prepare more and stuff.. a sappy speach or another song or a poem… but time ran away from me, I’m sorry,” he voices with his brows furrowed apologetically while wide eyes stare up at the other male. 

“I did get you something though- well us… I uhm…,” he hesitates but decides to just plug the box with matching rings from his pockets before he keeps fumbling with his own words. “this is just… a promise- nothing too wild like.. a proposal or something. which doesn’t mean I wouldn’t want to marry you just… yeah like… a promise. for the future? you can choose if you’d rather have the sun or the moon. to me you’re both.”

wookjin is terrible at gift giving--especially when placed against max. he knows this, but it still stings. max is somehow able to come up with the best, most sentimental, and precious gifts wookjin had ever been given. every gift he opened from max made him feel more appreciated and seen the last. if it wasn’t one of the sweetest, most adorable things about max wookjin might find it annoying. just because he wanted to do the same! 

as wookjin opened the gift, his predictions that max would knock it out of the park were confirmed. “aw, hyung--” he held the rings in his hand, admiring their shape and details. “this is so--dude, this is really great, thank you.” he hugged max, taking the opportunity to kiss his cheek as he did so. “i think...if it’s okay with you that i’d take the moon? you know how much i hate mornings.” then he added with a sweet smile, looking max in his eyes as he said, “and you always seem to shine the brightest to me.” he then put the moon ring on his finger and admired how it looked, a promise that fit perfectly on him.

“now my present feels like nothing...” still, he grabbed the small rectangle he had wrapped, hesitant to hand it over to the other. “it’s nothing like this.” he said, gesturing to the rings.

[hoggleswart]

his  admission  coaxes  a  smile,  appreciating  the  honesty.      ＂    it’s  possible  you    might  just  be  humouring  me,  but  that  selfishly  makes  me  feel  a  little  better  about  my  own  struggles,  so  i’m  choosing  to  trust  you  anyway.  don’t  correct  me  if  i’m  wrong.    ＂      hand  returns  the  shake,  gaze  dancing  back    &    forth  from  viktor  to  marco  because  people  would  be  amazed  how  fast  little  feet  can  scarper,  letting  go  a  beat  later.      ＂    although,  if  it  falls  down  in  the  middle  of  the  night,  i  also  know  who  to  blame  now.  sorry  in  advance.    ＂      it’s  no  more  than  a  light  tease,  confident  enough  that  they’d  succeeded  in  their  task.  the  tent  was  still  standing  after  all  and  that  was  further  than  she’d  managed  to  get  before  his  intervention.      ＂    oh,  i  wouldn’t  have  been  allowed  to  miss  it.  my  boy  is  quidditch  crazy.  he’d  sleep  on  wet  grass  before  he  let  us  be  late.    ＂      she  thinks,  sometimes,  the  trait  is  inherited  from  his  absent  father,  though  tries  not  to  linger  on  that  too  often.  especially  not  on  a  day  as  exciting  as  this.      ＂    what  about  you?  are  you  looking  forward  to  the  game?    ＂      it  seems  a  silly  question  to  ask  a  world  player,  though  conversation  has  always  come  natural  to  her.  put  it  down  to  years  of  working  as  a  server.  

it wasn't often that viktor meddled in someones else's business, not because he didn't like helping; he was just a bit too... withdrawn to actually offer help without feeling like he's overstepping. this time though, he couldn't bear with seeing them both struggle and simply HAD to act against his own nature. "ah please... don't mention it." a sheepish smile is what he offers in return as he stands up straight, his hand going to the one spot in his back that was screaming at him for being crouched FAR too long. "...these things are complicated, i genuinely barely even got the hang of it today, setting up my own tent." maybe not the best thing to mention considering the situation but he was admittedly a bit too awkward for his own good, though he WAS trying his best. and at the end of the day, isn't that what matters most? he takes her hand and squeezes gently as a greeting, trying to ignore the need to introduce himself as well since it was clear they knew who he was. "it's nice to meet you, i'm very glad i could help; it would've been a shame if you missed the game having to fight with this thing."

[dand-elle-ion]

Touch starved

In which you’ve been too busy lately and it’s been annoying the fuck out of him.

With: Scaramouche

Warnings: Cursing, making out, not-so-sfw-ish

Note: Reader is gender neutral as usual, enjoy!

Masterlist + Taglist  

Scaramouche is pissed - to say it quite plainly. 

Unfortunately, this has been very much to the chagrin of his subordinates who have noticed the change in his mood and behaviour over the last couple of weeks, and who have also happened to be the main victims of his outbursts.

The Harbinger’s usual harsh, rough, and cold demeanour could now only be described as icy and utterly ruthless. It has gone as bad as to not even rumours being dared to spread around, too afraid of consequences that might await or limbs that will be missing should The Balladeer get wind of them.

And still, whispers on the street live by and speak about different and most preposterous reasons behind the drastic changes, while merely a hand full of them manage to grasp a spark of the truth. As the truth is actually quite simple, one might even say ‘obvious’:

You.

You have been the reason for all of this strange behaviour he’s been displaying lately.

Perhaps it is simply his pride that’s been bruised. How come, some nonsensical pieces of paper and files deserve more of your attention than he does? 

Whatever it might be, this – this project, special task, hell, maybe even a secret plan of mutiny, that’s been keeping you away, locked in your little room and working meticulously day in and day out – Scaramouche despises it with his whole being.

Not ever, not even once would he admit these sentiments, neither to himself and especially not to any living soul in this forsaken world. The nagging on his nerves has become simply intolerable. 

But whatever the real excuses and explanations are that Scaramouche’s created in his mind, it is undeniable – your presence is missing. 

And it’s driving him insane.

So, one night after his patience has reached its end, Scaramouche withdraws into your shared rooms, only to find you – as usual – entrenched in your little corner, surrounded by tons and tons of paper, books and files.

Regarding the scenery with a look of utter disgust, he leans his back against the door frame and crosses his arms. Enough is enough. "And how long is this supposed to continue – if I might ask?”

You even have the audacity to look surprised when you dart your head up. “Oh, hey. Thanks, my day was fine, how was yours?”

Scaramouche is not the one to join your little games, not right now at least. Instead, his eyes are sharp when they meet yours, quiet and deadly.

Not exactly intimidated, but also not exactly open to any of his antics right now, you choose to simply return to your work again. It’s not too much left anymore and then this shit of a task will finally, finally be over.

You hear his footsteps drawing closer before one hand propped down upon the files, blocking your view, and now basically forcing you to look back up. 

Scaramouche's face is now very close to you. He is still not saying anything, but he doesn’t need to. Violet eyes nearly burning holes into you, his lips pressed into a thin line – he is saying enough. Plus, you already know what his problem is anyway. It also happens to be your own.

You shake your head, suppressing a defeated sigh. “I promise, I only need a couple of more days and I’ll be finish-“

“Bullshit,” he interrupts you. “You’ve been bringing this shitty excuse for weeks already.”

He was right, obviously. 

It’s not exactly a walk in the park to be in a relationship with Scaramouche. Neither your field of work nor having this relationship with a higher-up–Harbinger out of all. Your ‘work time’ and your ‘free time’ rarely overlap, and often, if not most it ends with both of you sleeping in lonely beds.

While you might not have the same level of responsibilities and influence as him, being in a way lower position work and struggles seem to double for you.

So, when fate gifted you the precious possibility of promotion – thus more flexible schedules and moving upwards the scale – one can bet their ass you took it.

Even if it meant to be stuck for weeks on the same thing, the same assignment you’ve been managing and improving on; even if that absolutely diminishes any possibility of time for anything else, let alone some intimacy with a certain Fatui Harbinger.

“It will be faster if you wouldn’t block my view.”

You hear him hiss something under his breath you couldn’t quite grasp, but he still removed his hand from your desk. While you focus back on your work, adding some concept plans here and there, Scaramouche walks over to your other side. 

Because, naturally, you must be a fool to really believe he’d just give in like that.

And the next thing you sense is his breath very close to your ear. “Do not tempt me, y/n.”

Shivers run down your spine and still, you (pretend to) remain focused on the sheets in front of you. Because, Archons, of course, you’ve been yearning for his presence as well, of course, you don’t take too much joy in your works, of course, you know how easy it would be to just …give in.

Suddenly his lips graze the soft spot just below your ear, then wander forth to your jaw, making your breath hitch. And slowly, ever so slowly he travels down your neck, clearly taking his sweet time. 

You nearly lose hold of your pen.

“Stop that…,” you manage to mutter. “You’re distracting me.”

Scaramouche chuckles darkly. “Good.”

Vehemently you shut the book close and raise from your seat in one single movement. You regard him with some intense look on your own, switching between his oh-so-sure-of-himself-eyes. The corner of his mouth twitches for a second as if he knew exactly what you are thinking; and that right there is your final straw before you grab his face with both of your hands, pulling him close to you and press a lingering kiss onto his lips. 

You let it last longer than you’ve actually intended to; partially for the better effect and also because you just don’t want to let go at all.

But you do draw back, eyebrows furrowed, and heart rate sped up. “There. Satisfied now?”

In a nearly mocking way, Scaramouche tilts his head, eyes harbouring a dangerous glimmer. 

“No.”

Your breath hitches as he bends down again, lips hovering just over yours. His hands slide down the side of your neck. “You can do better than that, y/n,” he discloses, cool breath soft against your skin. “You’ve been holed up enough and it’s been annoying the fuck out of me. Enough is enough.”

Any chance of returning back to your work is thrown out of the window the next moment his lips capture yours. Your eyes droop almost immediately, arms sliding around his neck. His hair tickles your fingers as you pull him just a little closer.

Something seems to spur you on, cause you’re already leaning in for another one, and another one. Soon, completely entangled in him. 

With his hands roaming down your waist the realisation crashes down on you with whole intensity just how much you’ve been missing this, missing him.

Scaramouche is demanding your whole attention, if not through his words, you could feel it in every movement, every touch and kiss on your lips, your neck, your skin. Demanding, what he’s been craving for so long. And you are not one to deny, neither him nor your own longings. 

It’s very clear at this point, that you can totally scrap your work schedule for today, maybe risking falling behind in time and effort. But it is worth it, isn’t it?

“Your mind is elsewhere again,” you hear him whisper against your lips. “I don’t like it.” Scaramouche extends his index finger out, tilting your chin to face him.

You meet his intense gaze, trying your best to remain at least somewhat composed even as your heart hammers loudly in your ears.

“Forget your stupid work for now,” he demands. His eyes drift to your mouth, thumb brushing over your lower lip. “Focus.”

No need to hear it twice you close the remaining distance, giving in completely now.

And as things always are with Scaramouche, he likes to make sure he’s got your whole and utter attention, no room for anything else. It’s only him that is allowed to exist in your world.

His teeth gently or actually not-so-gently nibble on your lower lip, making you slightly gasp, and you feel him smirk into the kiss at the sound. Satisfied with his doings. That bastard.

A burning heat from your lips sprawls up across your whole body; senses filled up by him, and him alone.

Soon you’re aided a few steps backwards, following his hidden intentions, because the Balladeer has -as always – some kind of scheme on his mind. And indeed, the next moment you find yourself lying on the couch, with him hovering above your body with an air of authority.

Completely out of breath and heart hammering strongly against your chest you can’t help but only stare up at him for a few moments in utter silence. Even the lights around him seem to dim, when he looks down at you, eyes hooded and a cocky smile on this pretty face of his.

“Cat got your tongue? Or just liking the view?”

You only shake your head, huffing at his familiar disdain. You pull him back down to you, a hand caressing his cheek while his lips find yours once more. As if it was the most natural thing in the world. 

“Somebody really did miss me, huh?” you can’t help but tease in between kisses.

You hear him growl a little. “Shut it.”

A quiet chuckle escapes you, but swiftly all possible replays vanish from your mind when his hand finds the hem of your shirt, fingers slip beyond and travel to your waist, cradling the skin there.

It makes you feel dizzy.

Scaramouche brushes his lips against yours, barely touching them. “Well then,” he whispers, a sly grin forming on his mouth. “Might as well show me how much you’ve been missing me.”

That’s always been the thing with Scaramouche. He makes it so, so dangerously easy to just let go and devour into nothing and everything at the same. Losing complete track of time and place.

And effortlessly, without any restraint, you soon find yourself getting carried away.

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