#but otherwise the animation is genuinely so good

[oflgtfol]

rewatching sss warrior cats to feel alive again

[nyankoizumi]

how it feels to chew five stickmen.                           stimulate your senses

[lolly-dolli]

So I have great news for you OP

magical girl transformation but theres no pretty lights or sparkles just grotesque and blood curling body mutation layered by the sounds of joints cracking bones snapping and muscles twisting unnaturally and she looks like a normal magical girl at the end

[1roentgen]

.

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

What if instead of threatening to take Ford's eyes, Bill just took Fiddleford's?

Tate still remembered the night his father's sight was taken from him.

"What have you done to me, Stanford?"

He felt the storm coming even before the first lightning struck. From the very moment he opened his eyes that morning until the very moment he lay back down to bed, he could feel a vicious tension brewing in the otherwise serene household.

Storms were very uncommon at Tate's house, and on the rare occasions they did arrive, they never stayed for long.

Yet, after a quiet breakfast full of anxious, unmet glances and clattering cutlery that rang far too loudly in the silence of the table, he knew that this storm was going to be unlike any other storm he'd witnessed before.

A prickling, disquieting static seemed to have made itself at home underneath his skin, that day. It had made every hair on his body stand on end, and an odd stinging sensation to dance across his spine and tongue; an uncomfortable urge to duck and take cover low on the ground nearly overwhelming his every sense. It was like waiting for the shattering thunderclap to sound after the sky turned white with a blinding flash of light. He knew what was coming, and the anticipation was unbearable.

His mother and father had acted as though nothing was wrong; as though they didn't feel the looming presence of the darkening clouds growing like a murky gray forest on the ceiling.

He hadn't been able to fathom at the time how adults could seem so all-knowing, and yet simultaneously be so utterly clueless about the very obvious happenings that surrounded them. Now, though, he just found it strange how adults often tend to assume children don't feel the stifling weight that they hung around themselves; as if children didn't breathe the same bitter choked air as their parents did. It wasn't even as though they did a very good job at pretending; his parents always were terrible liars.

When the lightning finally struck, it set the house ablaze.

He heard the thunder from his room, and felt the crackling heat crawl up the stairs and seep through the gap beneath his door. He'd laid in his bed, hand clasped nervously across his chest and looking up at his room's cloudy, weeping ceiling as a cacophonic explosion of noises came bursting from the living room downstairs. The fight had erupted with such unprecedented force that in Tate's young mind, he'd felt genuine fear of the house collapsing atop them all from the sheer force of the yelling.

The smell of burnt tongues gently wafted through the air, and Tate briefly wondered if it hurt his parents when they scorched their mouths with such scalding words just as much as it hurt for him to hear it.

It was a big fight; a terrible, big fight; so loud, and so very angry, and helpless, and desperate, and betrayed, and sad.

The back and forth screeching seemed endless, and eventually the screaming words began to muddle and merge into one another until they hardly even sounded human anymore. Suddenly there were animals wailing in the living room downstairs, and Tate could do nothing but listen helplessly and grip his interlocked fingers tighter; hoping that if he stayed still enough, then the growling beasts that were shattering plates downstairs wouldn't come upstairs.

But then,

then,

something changed.

The shift was all too sudden; too abrupt; too quick even for the usually sharp witted child to catch on, and before he knew it, the screams of anger suddenly shifted into one of pure, unadulterated horror.

"Fiddleford, your eyes- good lord, your eyes! Let me look at them!" "Don't touch me! I- I must call Stanford, he's done something to me. Him and that demon, they've cursed me." "For Heaven's sake! Please, forget about that damned Stanford of yours for one moment and listen to yourself! My husband's gone mad, mad!"

And suddenly his parents were human again.

Tate was restless in his bed as his heart seemed to beat bruises against his ribs, his sweaty fingers digging crescent shaped grooves into his skin as fear enclosed its frigid claws around his throat in a vice-like grip. He couldn't breathe.

The storm was over, and it should have reassured him, and yet he was anything but.

Curiosity and fear had been what forced him to kick the sheets off himself and creep his way down the rickety wooden steps. He had to know what happened, he had to know what damage the storm had caused, he had to know.

His steps were far from quiet, and the creaking of the floorboards beneath his feet hardly did him any favors, but no one answered the calls of the squeaking wood. No one came peeking out from the living room to stop the obviously sneaking presence that was tip toeing through the halls; No one called out to check on their little child; all was silent, and calm, except for his mother's soft sobbing coming from the kitchen.

When Tate eventually found his father, he saw

devastation.

The storm had been merciless. It had left nothing behind but a shuddering husk of a man. His father was shaking like a leaf, shoulders tense and back hunched over as though bowed by an incredible burden. The telephone receiver was held in his hand like a lifeline; as if it was the only thing in the world that was keeping him tethered to sanity, and somehow, Tate didn't doubt that it was.

Curled up on the floor in the dark, muttering and trembling, he dared say his father looked... small.

It almost felt surreal to see his father in such a state, like witnessing a God collapse, or a star's light dim to nothingness. His father had always been a solid, permanent pillar sho seemed able to hold up the whole world on his shoulders, and still stand tall and proud despite the weight.

And yet, the crumbling remains of a once impermeable monolith now lay scattered across the hallway floor and splattered across the walls.

The sight had scared him.

At the time, Tate hadn't known what had happened. Even to this day, he still wasn't too sure he understood what exactly had taken place in that living room for his father to have so sudddenly gone from seeing to blind in the matter of seconds.

His mother had tried, in vain, to explain it to him later, to try and make him understand when he was eventually old enough to hear the gruesome tale; but still, he struggled to fully wrap his head around it.

"It was as though his eyes just sunk into his skull," his mother had recounted to him with a haunted look in her eyes. "They suddenly just vanished into the empty sockets of his face, like someone pulled them out from inside his head. There was no blood, no resistance, no tearing. It was as if his eyes were simply plucked out of sight by some invisible hand."

There had been blood on the walls when he had found father back then, a long trail of gorey wet red smeared all across the lovely yellow wallpaper. He realized only now, recalling the memory, that the blood back then had not been from his father's eyes, but from the deep gouges he had dug into his face with his nails, his searching fingers desperately looking for eyes that weren't there beneath his empty eyelids.

"What have you done to me, Stanford?"

Tate had never heard his father's voice sound so raw, so afraid. It was so unlike the familiar comforting drawl he'd grown to love and recognize, it almost sounded alien, coming from his father.

"I can't see, Stanford, I can't- my eyes, they're gone. Why are they gone? What have you done?" "Answer me, damnit, what have you done?"

His father never got his answer, because whoever was on the other side of the line soon hung up, and his father was suddenly left blind and alone.

[bubblegumgothglados]

How to actually train a submissive, a how to guide

+Thoughts on the pervasive misinformation surrounding punishments and their usefulness.

Step 1. Make sure your submissive actually want to be trained. I'm into dom breaking, I'm into kidnapping, I'm into all types of situations where you forcibly change a person into the perfect submissive. But that's all fantasy, and they're fun fantasies to play out with willing participants. (Yeah i know this is pretty obvious stuff, everyone should know this already, but it is an important first step and it cant hurt to repeat)

Step 2. Pick a goal. The perfect example is getting them to take their pills at the same time each day. Its something they already want to do, its something that will benefit them greatly, its something that's very obviously pass/ fail, and its simple. Those are the criteria for a good behaviour to modify (with "want to do" flipped to "don't want to do" if its a behaviour you're trying to stop). The fewer of those things are true the more difficult its going to be to get the desired result, not impossible mind you but more difficult. As you and your submissive gain experience and become more comfortable with this process you can begin to modify more complex behaviours, but keep it simple to start.

Step 3. DO reward success, DO NOT punish failure. I'm gonna let myself rant about this at the end of this guide but for the moment just believe me when i say punishments are not a useful tool in training. So reward them every time the succeed. The best rewards are small things that stimulate the pleasure centre of their brain. Praise is a great place to start, stickers, snacks, tiny animal erasers, maybe shiny treasures if they have corvid like proclivities. Whatever it is make sure you give it to them personally, make sure you show you're genuinely happy with them, and make sure its something they cant get or aren't allowed to have otherwise. If the do fail (and they will sometimes) don't reward them, don't punish them, and don't let them punish themself. They want to be good for you, they will take failure hard. You need to make sure they know failure isn't a bad thing, everyone fails sometimes especially when starting to learn something. You need to reassure them that you're not angry or sad or upset and especially not disappointed.

Step 4. Be consistent. Reward them every time until they have a perfect record for a significant period of time. The specifics of this depend too much on the specifics of the behaviour and the reward so i wont try to give guidelines. Once they have that perfect track record start reducing the frequency of the rewards, stress to them that this isn't a punishment this is a really good thing. It means the training is working and they should be proud of themself and you are proud of them. Once you've weaned them off of the reward all together give them a big reward as a congratulations. And then sporadically reward them as a reminder that you're proud of them and to keep the habit strong. If the behaviour begins to drift you might need to go back and start rewarding them again, this shouldn't be seen as failure, its a normal part of training.

Step 5. Start again. Do they still want to be trained or are they happy with where they are? Is there another behaviour you want to modify? Is it time to try a more difficult modification? Do you need to switch up the reward to keep them motivated? Do you have the bandwidth to be consistent?

A note on brats. Specifically type 3 brats as described in THIS post. None of my advice changes. They still want to be good for you they just also want to play a fun game with you. Enjoy the fun game and train them to improve their lives. Just, don't try to train them out of being a brat, they're enjoying their game don't take away something that they enjoy, if you don't want a brat don't get with a brat.

Finally here is the as promised rant about punishment.

To the submissive reading this. You don't deserve to be punished, you never deserved to be punished. Even if you were a "problem" child you didn't deserve to be hurt for it. You still don't deserve to be hurt in ways you don't want to be. To the dominant reading this, yes you can rule through fear it is possible, but gods why?! If your ultimate goal isn't for your sub to be as happy and self fulfilled as possible, whatever that looks like for them, then what the fuck are you doing. And aside from that punishment isn't even an effective method of training. A dog kicked whenever it barks will learn to fear you and wont bark around you. A child spanked whenever you feel they've done something wrong will learn to resent you and will hide everything from you. An adult punished for stealing will learn to steal more effectively. Your submissive is no different from any of those examples. Kill the cop in your head, stop thinking of punishment as a legitimate means of control.

[ywuji]

yuuji doesn’t think he buys you things often, but your bed full of stuffed animals says otherwise. (f!reader, plushie humping and them watching u fuuuuck)

often times when he goes out with friends or on missions, yuuji will come back with little trinkets or toys he thought you would like.

he doesn’t listen when you tell him you have nowhere to put them—when he gifts them to you, he’ll just smile his giddiest smile, hoping you’ll forget about that for a moment.

it's funny because he’ll come over to your tiny uni room down the hall from his own, see his gifts taking up the majority of your space that you’re meant to have, and he’ll still have a mind to think of other things he could get you!!

‘the more the merrier!’ is the sentiment of all of his lighthearted protests when you bring it up in conversation—and he’s genuine with that—but there’s also something else.

something about those times when either you or him are away and you’re missing each other, him telling you to call him—voice or video, ‘whichever you prefer, cutie’—and the conversation ending up in him talking you through straddling his favourite stuffie of the day and grinding your sweet little wet cunnie on it.

"does he feel good, sweetie? …yeah. y'sound so pretty... mhmm, sound so good, my love. keep going, baby."

"nonono, you’re doing great, honey. i know you’re tired, but it’ll be over soon, yeah? just a little more and you can cum… yeeaahh that’s it, princess, doing so well f’me."

"f-fuck… l-look so cute, baby… can you see? ’m leaking so much. …mhm, ‘s all you, pretty girl, ‘s all f’you."

or the other times, when he spends the night at yours, and you touch and you kiss, and the next thing you know is that you’re pushed into the bed, surrounded by your dear stuffies, whining and mewling as yuuji hungrily looms over you, pumping his thick cock into your wet, messy heat.

“yuuji..! a-ah! ‘s too much, ji—ah!” you whimper, voice struggling to come out of your throat every time he pushes into you. he knew from your previous three orgasms he gave that you're reaching your limit, and he’d pull away if he knew you wanted him to, but the way you’re grasping at his toned back, his beautiful neck, and his tousled hair, pulling him closer, deeper into you—he knows you can take it.

“pussy so fuckin’ good, princess… l-love it so much—f-fuck! s-so good for me, baby,” he caresses your precious head, brushing hair out your face and staring right into your eyes as he pushes himself in further into you. the waft of his breath heating your cheeks as he praises you, “suckin’ me in s-so—fuck—tight…“

“‘m close, ji! s-so good! ohmygod…!” you grip onto him impossibly tight, fingers digging into his thick, muscular shoulders.

“h-haah—y-yeah? me t-too... where can i cum, baby?” he pants, his whimpers that you love so much becoming louder.

“inside! insideinside! please inside! pleaseplease—please!” you choke out. you don’t have to wait a moment longer before he’s pounding into you like your lives depend on it, fat cock drilling you at an angle, stretching you out and hitting all those right spots only he can reach.

“c-cumming…! ‘m cu—!“ his lips crash into yours, swallowing your sweet sounds as you cum and cream around his cock, legs wrapping tightly around him feeling ropes of his thick, hot cum spurting into you as you both shake and tremble from your orgasms.

he lowers the rest of his body onto you, being careful not to crush you. his face burying itself in the crook of your neck, whispering little praises and tender words of affection. ‘love you so so much, baby’, ‘did so well for me, pretty’, ‘look so beautiful when you cum’. with his sweaty front now pressed to yours, he lays still. warming his cock inside your cunt to let the both of you ride out your blissful highs.

his head comes up to look into your dazed eyes as you gently cup his hot cheeks. he smiles and chuckles breathily, littering quick kisses from your lips to your chest, licking and sucking cheekily at your nipples, leaving a few lovebites on your breasts.

moving to sit up on his knees, he looks down at where the two of you connect, softly rocking his hips and moving circles over your sensitive clit, watching the sticky white ring of your mixed orgasms coat his cock with each slow thrust.

you whine and hold out shaky fingertips to his hips. he grins, pulling his cock out painstakingly slow, watching his cum leak out of you, collecting it up with his fat cockhead, and pushing it back into you with one last gentle thurst.

“yuuji...” you mewl out with a small pout on your face.

“yeah, honey?” he looks at you with wide eyes and flushed cheeks.

“...they were watching the whole time.” you point to the little crowd of plushies who are all faced towards you, an odd feeling washing over you as you realise your shared stuffed ‘children’ witnessed the two of making love right in front of their plastic eyes.

he shrugs nonchalantly, a tired smile on his face “it’s not that bad.” he teases.

“wha-?! what do you mean…?!”

“they’ll just learn a few things,” he smiles playfully at your puzzled expression. “y’know? like how to be in love and… how it feels to know someone truly.” he nods his head and purses his lips as if he's just said something deep.

“you’re so stupid.”

[demonpiratehuntress]

baby (name)! (Mihawk, Buggy, Shanks, Brook, Chopper)

featuring - Dracule Mihawk x F!Reader, Buggy x F!Reader, Shanks x F!Reader, Brook x F!Reader, Chopper x F!Reader

summary - you somehow get turned into a baby and they have to spend 24 hours babysitting you

warnings - my first time writing for ALL of these characters, so i'm sorry if i get their characters wrong! im only 416 episodes into the anime. i tried my best!

a/n - this was requested by @faioula16, i hope you like it!

MIHAWK

This could honestly go either way. This guy is unpredictable and even you never know what his next move will be. But you're his faithful and loving girlfriend, so there are some exceptions when it comes to you. Like when some deranged devil fruit user turns you into a baby, and Mihawk could have had someone else take care of you, but he wanted to do it himself. He was curious, now that it was you who was an infant.

But that may also be because a witness to the scene had expressed fear for infant you, saying that Mihawk was too cold and ruthless to take care of a baby. He didn't need to prove otherwise, and he didn't want to, but something just gnawed at him. Protectiveness, maybe. You were in such a vulnerable state right now, only he could protect you and care for you.

It had absolutely nothing to do at all with the fact that you looked so adorable staring at him with your big (eye colour) eyes, reaching out to tap his because the strange colour fascinated you. No, it had nothing to do with how cute your excited squeal was every time he picked you up or looked at you. He was absolutely not entranced by your cute little smile or how you clung to him with little hands that could barely hold his one finger. Absolutely not.

Mihawk is actually a pretty good babysitter. But only for you. He will sit and read to you with you on his lap, trying not to smile when you giggle and smack the book, always catching you when you lunged forward excitedly and almost fell off his lap. He will never finish the story, but he reads to you anyway because you seem to like it...for a little while.

"(Name), no!"

He almost had a heart attack when he set you down for one second to put the book away, and you almost fell off the table because you were trying to crawl to him. Your eyes filled with tears when he yelled, even if he hadn't meant to sound angry. His gaze softened, and he picked up and cradled you against his chest, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple.

"It's alright, I won't hurt you. You're fine, little one."

And then you really are fine, your little body comforted by his actions and words. They lull you into sleep, and soon you rest on his shoulder and fall into a deep sleep, gripping his shirt collar tightly in your tiny fist.

"Sleep well, (Name)."

When you awake, in your usual adult form, you're too nervous to suggest it, but thankfully Mihawk is thinking the same thing.

"I think I'd like a little you or me to keep me company."

BUGGY

Buggy is horrible with children. I mean he's not great with people, but he is absolutely, terrifyingly not good with kids at all. So when you were somehow turned into a tiny human being who could barely stand on two legs, he was shocked. And slightly scared, though he would never admit it. You were the only person he genuinely liked, so he tried not to be too...rough, with your little form. Picking you up was as far as he got, but even then he held you out awkwardly like a football.

And then you squealed and happily reached for his nose, the bright red circular appendage attracting your attention instantly. Now, Buggy was sensitive about his nose, but he let you touch it. A testament to how much he liked you. And, if he were being honest, you were actually kind of cute squeezing his nose like that until he couldn't breath-

Exhale out the mouth.

When he remembered he could use his mouth to breathe, he smiled a little at how much you were enjoying yourself playing with his nose. You even touched his makeup and all his markings, out of curiosity. Your eyes were bright with confusion but also fascination, and it did something weird to Buggy. Made him feel...warm inside?

Then he decided to, experimentally, see what your reaction to his devil fruit would be in this tiny form. He set you down on the floor again, and then detached his hand. Your eyes went wide and you instantly covered your eyes with your small hands, your bottom lip trembling. He panicked, tripping over himself and falling into a tangled heap in front of you. You peeked between your fingers to see this, then burst out into cute laughter. Buggy almost glared at you, but then remembered you were just a baby and instead picked himself up and smiled - or rather tried his best not to smile like a maniac - at you.

Then you saw his floating hand, and grabbed it.

"No no, (Name), that's not-"

You stuck his fingers in your mouth, and he groaned. You just giggled innocently, and only then did he realise his devil fruit could be a source of entertainment for you. He detached multiple limbs and floated them around, watching as you squealed in glee and crawled around trying to catch them.

Were you actually having fun because of him?

When he finally put his body back together again, you pouted but crawled up to his leg and hugged it, gurgling happily as if to thank him. He was stunned. He slowly picked you up and you offered him a toothless smile, before yawning. Still unsure, he laid you on his shoulder and awkwardly patted your back, but that seemed to work because you slowly fell asleep.

When you woke up again, finally an adult, you grinned at him, "Shall we make you a father?"

SHANKS

It was his fault, really. He picked the fight, contrary to his usual behaviour. But that guy had said something about you, and he couldn't ignore it, so of course he acted. And now here you were, a tiny baby fisting his shirt in your tiny hand and looking up at him with big, curious (eye colour) eyes. He had experience with children, of course, having spent some time with Luffy. But you were so small, so delicate.

"Captain, what-"

He ignored the confused questions from his crew as he brought you back on board the ship, immediately taking you to his quarters. It shouldn't last long, he reminded himself, but he still felt guilty. Though that quickly disappeared when you giggled and crawled around his quarters, knocking things over and hiding with a loud giggle when he caught you.

"Oi, (Name)!" He tried to sound stern, he really did, but his laugh have his mood away. You stuck your head out from under his bed and stuck your tiny tongue out at him, and he burst out laughing. "Oh, you're cute, sweetheart."

He lifted you up again and you squealed excitedly and reached for his hair, the bright colour attracting your attention. He grinned and put you on his head, keeping his hands on your small waist, and soon felt you tug on his red strands. You were giggling and pulling and kicking your legs happily, so he endured the pain just for your sake. It was very cute how you thought his hair was a toy, and by the time you got tired of it, it was a mess. Strands were everywhere, out of place, sticking out...but it didn't matter to him.

Because now you were looking at him with your big, innocent eyes and suckling on your hand as he cradled you against his chest. He gently rubbed your back and pressed a soft kiss to your tiny tuft of (hair colour) hair.

"You're so pretty even as a baby, (Name)."

You rewarded him with a sloppy kiss on his cheek, making him laugh. He sat on his bed with you still in his arms, watching as you grew tired and offered him the cutest sight - the tiniest of yawns.

"Sleep, little one."

He gently rocked you to sleep, reassuringly and soothingly patting your small back as you drifted off on his shoulder. He felt warm inside, as if a small fire had been lit inside him. He knew what it was.

And when you woke up in adult form, he grinned at you, "Let me give you a baby, sweetheart."

BROOK

Brook has experience with babies. Maybe not human babies, but babies nonetheless. He knows a human baby is very different to a whale baby, but he figures that there can be similarities too. Such as entertainment, which is his area of expertise. So when he looks down at his feet to see baby you tugging on his pants, he is somewhat prepared. He has no idea how you were turned into a baby, of course, but he's not complaining because you are so, so adorable.

"What happened to (Name)?" Franky asked the skeleton, raising an eyebrow.

"Nothing important!" Was Brook's gleeful reply, followed by a laugh when you somehow crawled on top of his afro and knocked his hat off so you could take its place.

"Nothing imp-" Franky sighed. "Do you even know how to look after a baby?" Franky's eyes worriedly drifted to where you sat upon the skeleton's head, tugging on his afro and squealing with delight. You wobbled precariously.

"No, but it can't be any different to a baby whale!"

Franky would have commented on that, if you hadn't slipped off Brook's head. The cyborg easily caught you, before holding you out to Brook, "Don't let her sit on your head."

"Noted."

For the rest of the day, Brook occupied you by sitting you down on his bed and playing music for you, telling you stories about Laboon and his crew, and about his experiences in the Grand Line before you guys found him. He sang all sorts of songs, played all sorts of melodies, while you giggled and clapped your hands excitedly, bouncing up and down. Brook smiled, the sight warming heart - oh, but he doesn't have a heart. He hardly ever got tired, but you prompted him to play for hours on end, until he really was exhausted. So he picked you up, settled on his bed, and lay you on his lap before humming a tune. You slowly drifted off to sleep, and Brook smiled.

He hoped he could play for one of the crew's babies one day.

CHOPPER

Another island, another mishap, another adventure. No trip is ever boring with the Straw Hats, and this was again proven when an unfortunate encounter with a devil fruit user who could change people's ages led to you being turned into an infant. And that's how you found yourself cradled in Sanji's arms, with Chopper trying to get a good look at you all throughout the walk back to the Sunny.

"Chopper, she's fine," the cook tried to assure the doctor, but Chopper was having none of it.

He was so worried, because no one was equipped to take care of a baby, and he cared about you so much that now you were a baby, he was becoming overprotective. As soon as Sanji set you down somewhere safe for Chopper to examine you, he was grabbing his bag and bringing out all his different tools. He checked all your vitals and made sure you were first and foremost healthy, before he could consider anything else.

Then you touched his blue nose and widened your eyes in fascination, gurgling softly, and Chopper blushed brightly. He smiled and poked your nose back, and you let out the cutest giggle that melted the reindeer's little heart. He shifted to his humanoid form and gently lifted you up into his arms, cradling you as he gazed down at you with the utmost love, adoration and fascination he could manage. You were so tiny, even more so than him, and so so cute. Then you sneezed, looking stunned for a moment before giggling loudly. And Chopper thought there was nothing more joy-inducing than holding and watching baby you.

"Chopper, where's-oh." Nami stopped when she saw Chopper standing there just holding you, one of his fingers in your tiny hand as he cooed at you and made you giggle. She smiled softly and left the room, deciding you were in safe hands.

"You're the cutest baby in the world, (Name)," Chopper told you. You just smiled brightly, exposing your gums cause you had no teeth, and waved your small arms around happily.

Chopper was really good with you. He monitored you throughout the 24 hours, making sure you ate properly, got enough sleep and were bathed properly. He is probably the best caretaker out of all the men on this list, not only because he's doctor but he's naturally caring and nurturing. It comes like second nature to him. Besides, you were such a calm and quiet baby - except for the giggling - that you made it easy for him. He was almost sad when you fell asleep, knowing you'd be grown up again when you woke up.

But maybe one day the crew would be able to fawn over a baby everyday. Maybe one day.

[pushingdaisies1]

Kinda hate you, kinda love you . . . ♡

(✧ ˚.) PAIRING-> James "Logan" Howlett {A.K.A} Wolverine x Reader >_< (✧ ˚.) SUMMARY -> Being an X-men was a lot for you to sign up for. Well.. you didn't have a chance to deny this safe haven. The school became your home and the people that made up the X-men like a weird little familial unit. You had many reasons for staying as long as you did, but one was more prickly and jaded. The feelings you harbored for a stern and calloused Logan were.. weird for you to feel firsthand. One day, you are stuck overlooking a danger room drill between Gambit and Logan. With the new member of your world-saving team Jubilee by your side, it's too dull to NOT talk with each other. She was a good kid, hyperactive and spirited that's for sure. You talk, and talk a lot you do to the human embodiment of the fourth of July. It makes you think a little bit too hard about yours and Logans... predicament. (✧ ˚.) AUTHORS NOTE -> Hiii!!! This is my first time writing stuff for Logan so - bee tee dubs it may be complete and utter horse shit. I'd like to thank @velvrei for helping me ignite some well-dead thoughts. Genuinely love ur work sm and reading that and a lot more new/old logan content helped TONS. This is linked to the {♡x-men animated series/x-men97♡} series. I do wanna write more for the Deadpool timeline xmen/early 2000s timeline xmen!! But after seeing the masterpiece that is Deadpool and Wolverine, I lowkey just clung to those shows. I love animated Logan!! He is even more emotionally stunted/sassy sad!! (✧ ˚.) CWS (?) -> Logan nd u are sad ppl who don't know how to voice ur feelings!! , pining from afar/one-sided not so one-sided yearning, UHM HURT/KINDA COMFORT??? MAYBE??? I THINK??? , unprompted suggestiveness from logan , mentions of struggling to connect with other ppl/fears of the future (bay bay jubilee my love) , u and Jubilee just kinda bond, off topic idk cajun dialect so..... , and u infodump as a weird suto older sister/mom in her life, this was all very spur of the moment so uhm - not proofread!!! kinda!!!!!!!

The dangeroom was a room a lot of the X-men team spent their time in. To either train for a new threat or for general movement, drills were a common theme. Especially after world-shaking events, which were always somehow a constant, the professor was the equivalent of an alarm clock. Drills this, always having to run down into the war room. You didn't mind the training sessions if it was one-on-one or even with the whole team. Sometimes though, it was almost nagging. 

Though there were little things you'd do to pass this time. If you were made to overlook it or otherwise. Most of the time there didn't need to be supervision within the training center itself. Everyone was on high alert, and off days were few and far between. Logan had been hashing it out with Gambit all morning and wanted to do a specific procedure setting. You held your head in your hands as you sighed at the grown men's demands. Gambit was a professional sweet talker, Logan wasn't when needed. Of course, you complied, understanding the sudden want for more extensive training. When Jubilee volunteered you started to not loathe the idea of sitting in on Logan and Gambit - literally butting heads. 

Jubilee was a nice kid, you felt bad for her sudden entrance into life within the school. The professor was welcoming as always. With your push and her foster parents wanting her to be safe from threats like the sentinels, she was a bonified member.

Being the "newbie" always had its drawbacks. From day one you made sure to have her back, you could relate to her whole fish-out-of-water point of view. Logan saw the way you attached fast to the kid. He was like a vault of thoughts and feelings. Thoughts and feelings he never wanted to bring up or even let alone talk about. But it made your heart flutter just a tad when he sat his hand on your shoulder, gently rubbing a thumb against it.

He had stopped you before you were about to retire to your room. In the doorway to your personal, pillow escape he made sure to reel you down to earth. "Give the kid some breathing room. I know you want to help but there's no use for you smothering her."

You were almost baffled. What was he going on about? You were just looking out for her? Deep down, you did know what he meant. He might have not been a long-term X-Men member. But he did know you and the fragments of "memories" you held so dearly close to your chest. You two were so different and yet one in the same. Before you could even argue, he gave you a small .. somewhat comforting pat on said shoulder. "Just a friendly word of advice bub, don't take it so close to heart. Oh wait, that's inevitable." He joked at you with his signature toothy grin. You couldn't help but scoff in surprise and laughter as he jabbed at you with his SINGULAR witty remark.

Logan could be many things. Rough around the edges, even a total asshole when he felt like it. But to you, he was your kryptonite. It was pathetic the way you'd always eventually be pulled to bend at that man's every word. He just did that to you, and you had no answer to it. 

Making your way up to the upper room with Jubilee, you watched with tired eyes as the door to the observation room slid open. Cold - walls and floor head to toe with this sleek metal texture. There were two chairs, right behind the control panel where the training sequence(s) would be initiated. Your eyes were trained on the window as you watched Gambit and Logan make their entrance inside the training room itself. Gambit of course was rapidly shuffling a deck of cards. They were almost flying in the palms of his hands as he prepared them. Logan was of course blabbing his big mouth, in his signature suit "lumbering up" as he would call it. Finally, as you just now sat your bottom into the smooth-cushioned observation chairs, Jubilee was already starting the conversation. Thank god for you as you were still shaking the morning off of you."So what? , we just watch them throw around with each other, or what?" She cracked with a curious glance at the two men down below. You rested your chin in the palm of your hand as you leaned back. "Pretty much, we're here just in case the system doesn't shut down in time. Sometimes it does that."

She paused before she gave you a pointed look, her chunky pink sunglasses almost falling off of her black head of hair. "We're babysitting them!?" She retorted with a sort of faux annoyance. "I mean it's 'something' to do but - come on...." She groaned as she crossed her arms, heavy in on the air quotations. Cutting in, you directed your hand to the control panel. "No no no, not just that.”

Gathering your thoughts, you pointed out each scenario on the deck. You couldn't help but crack a smile at Jubilee's small "ohs" and "ah's". With the development, you two were brought into a nice steady stream of conversation. Hunched in her seat, yellow boots crinkling in this position, she poked and prodded you about your style and so on. it was nice to be looked at with such idealization. Her eyes were huge with wonder as she jumped to questions and searched for answers. Though it was only so nice until the two of you were interrupted by the impact of a card deck. As it smacked against the window, you pinched the bridge of your nose.

Hitting the intercom, you cleared your throat. "So sorry gentlemen! You two ready or what?" You retorted as you leaned over the panel. Gambit gathered back the cards into his hands. "Me? , 'course cher! Any day I would love to stick it to da fuzz ball over der." He remarked with a scheming smirk. Logan growled as his claws immediately sprouted from his knuckles. "I'll show you fuzz ball you pest." His lip curled up almost like a predator ready to pounce.

Jubilee sat back quiet as a mouse as she watched you talk through to the two. "Alrighty alright! Save the pouncing for later." You barked with a small chuckle at the end. You couldn't help but feel buzzy at the way Logan reared his head up. Gambit was too busy swapping cards from hand to hand. But all of Logan's attention was just on you, it was always just on you.

 "Okay, how are we feeling about the ruined city for today?" You asked the two as Gambit started to twirl a card in between his middle and pointer fingers. "Yes yes yes, dat will do just nicely, right Wolvie?" He asserted - training a hard on the hard-headed "foe." Logan's voice was low and gruff as he found his stance. "Don't get so ahead of yourself Gamby." He retorted as he turned back to you in the window. "Start it up doll, before this one here loses all of his spice." He barked with a laugh as Logan jostled his mask on. You rolled your eyes with a faint smile. "If you say so, bee-tee-dubs .. don't kill each other! Please and thank you." You affirmed as the array of buttons were clicked. As the scenery shifted into a torn-down cityscape, foes were already on the two men. The only fun thing about watching over the training sessions was getting to watch fellow X-Men in action. Just not with the risk of losing your life in the process. Leaning back into your chair, you took in a nice breath of air. Peace, for now at least. Jubilee sat up more straight, letting her bright yellow duster-like jacket collect at the sides of her chair. She brought her legs to her chest as both you and she watched Gambit and Logans fighting. You could feel her eyes wander to you in the quiet. You looked directly towards her, a sympathetic smile gracing your face. "How are you feeling?" Your voice was small but warm, comforting almost. This was the first time someone had even really asked her. "I don't know... it's like everything is just changing at once. I feel like a big Rubix cube." She said with a frown as she got more comfortable where she sat. You nodded your head in almost remembrance. "Trust me, becoming an X-men isn't the hardest part. It's living like one." Admitting with a soft sort of comfort, Jubilee was already warmer than before. The training session flew by as you two just talked and talked. She lamented about what life would be like now, what she would and wouldn't miss. How she was stripped of living like a normal teenager. "I mean everyone here has already been so nice to me, but this is just gonna take a lot of getting used to. ", she would lament to you in honesty. You tried to be as insightful as possible. Telling her that living as an X-men will always be tricky. But there will always be the people around here that'll keep you steady. Her ears perked up when you listed off your so-called "anchors." She immediately butted in after you listed off the Wolverine himself, Logan. "That guy? You two seem to be always at each other's throats?" She cracked at you with an inquisitive grin. "Well I mean yeah - he can be .. overly confident a lot of the time." You were almost reminding yourself. You didn't realize how long you spent talking about your scruffy metal-clawed 'friend.' You went on and on about how he combated with you in the best possible ways. How with his time in the X-Men, he opened up your worldview in many instances. He did so much to you and for you. He was almost like your escape in a way, and he maybe shared the same view. You didn't get into the nitty-gritty details of it, 'cause ew. But the moments away from daily life hecticness within the school you and he shared were your favorite. His arms were the sweetest embrace anyone could ask for. But that's what friends do, that's what friends are for.

 Though you always wondered if maybe you were wrong. Maybe you were holding on to nothing. Maybe there was an intimate connection between you two hiding under the surface. But you had a track record of getting your hopes up. You dashed those daydreams away as Jubilee yanked you back down into the now of things. Time flew by as the training sequence ended. Logan was immediately gloating his way out of the danger room. You and Jubilee met the two halfway. Gambit sang your high praises as he lamented about kicking Logan's ass in the drill. As the two grown men bickered Jubilee made her exit known. Since the professor was already summoning them all to the war room. Gambit waved you off with a small wink and another grand shuffle of his cards. Which just left you and logan ... fun. 

He quirked his brow in your direction as he realized your quiet demeanor. “Can you believe the guy? - come on bub you saw me!” He said in astonishment at Gambit's gambit tendencies. You crinkled your nose in a small giggle. If you were seeing straight, you couldn’t help but notice a small dash of a smile on Logan's face once he saw your mood brighten. His smile always found ways to make your knees weak and arms all jelly. “Yeah yeah, dont get your panties in a twist Lo.” You said with a twinkle in your eye. A grin followed spreading almost ear to ear.

His eyes softened ever so slightly with your jokes. He grumbled out his poorest joke yet. “Oh, I’ll show you.” He retorted before yanking you into him. Your back met his chest plate as you felt his collection of sweat. His muscled arms wrapped around your midsection as he whirled you around like a windmill. You ignited with laughter and “yucks” as you felt his sweat spreading onto you. You fought out his hold with a grimace and a sheepish chuckle, wiping your eye. “Christ man, you got all your .. muck on me!”

By now his claws were already dashed away. So his hands were now placed on his hips. He rolled his eyes as he looked you up and down. “Come on, you’ll live to see another day shrimpy.” He claimed with his eyes slowly wandering. “I look like a wet dog thanks to you.” You frowned jokingly, shaking your arms out. “On and on with you.” He remarked once again with his eyes rolling AGAIN soon after.

Closer and closer the two of you got as you both threw phony insults back and forth. Before your lips were inches away from one another. He drawled his quick mouth up and spat back something that would leave your mind in utter… shock. Was confusion the right word?  “Don’t play around with me, dimples. I know you’d like more than just my arms around you.” You quickly gasped out the pocket of air you were holding onto. A long pause was felt throughout the hall before you two darted in separate ways.

“I need to change!” You sheepishly shouted as you headed in the opposite direction of him. He did the same, mumbling whatever under his breath. “Don’t slip and fall!” He coughed out as you rubbed your face in annoyance. “Eat shit, Logan!” , “That’ll be a long time coming!” The both of you remarked to the other in unison. Both of your voices share the same sort of flustered frustration. You raced into the showers as you soon stumbled towards the sinks.

You splashed your face with cold water as your heart was still racing. Your cheeks were burning up let alone from his words. But you were soon able to catch up with your breath. Regaining your composure you looked yourself in the mirror. Gritting your teeth as you looked at the fool Logan made you. The Wolverine could be a hard-headed buffoon. Always on his way to making a snide insult with whichever X-men member was disagreeing with him. But god damn it was he your poison. You hated him and he hated you. That was the thing that kept you steady as you changed into uniform and raced towards the ongoing meeting. You knew that same smile still lingered on your face once you made your entrance into the war room. Able to brush off the team's sudden accusations as you made sure to remind everyone about the issue at hand. The Professor thanked you as he went back to discussing what new threats plagued human life. Your eyes always made their way back to Logans with small lingers. Making eye contact with you, his eye-line was diverted by you as you turned your attention back to the professor. The Wolverine was a fool, and he had already found purchase in your foolish heart. 

ꔫ✉ reblogs/interaction is appreciated <3 part two - ⭐️

[sm-baby]

Most exciting part of the trailer for the next TADC episode for you?

More so an Analysis rather than things I'm excited about X3

I watched the sneak peek on loop I can process everything! Waahh!! I'm so excited for episode 2 💞 only a few weeks away! 💕

I wanna get this out of the way, I love Lizzie Freeman and Alex Rochon's Improv work on this promo 😭 they were really put in a booth together, were told to say things to promote episode two, and came up with that 😭 Genius.

The environment work is GORGEOUS! I love the look of everything, the world-building, the colors! It looks like a full-fledged movie guys! Absolutely beautiful and WONDEROUS work from the Glitch team-- it's so beautiful for half a year of work??? God damn!!

Haha! As an in-universe creation, Despite his little gags, Caine is genuinely such a good AI to make something so cool!

You'll also notice that Ragatha is taking charge of talking with the princess! That would make sense for such fellow beautiful well-mannered women!

More on them later at the end! :3

Dream sequence theory

Also, we all agree that these ones are all part of a dream right? Pomni is panicked, the strange sort of "slow woozy wobbly" animation exactly like a dream... even the dolly zoom!

Then she is sent to the cellar with a an abstracted arm, but that shouldn't be the case since Caine could easily fix an abstracted arm with a snap of a finger.

And then she wakes up, freaked out!!

Wahaha! Shout out to the Showtime server for pointing this out while we were discussing!

This is either and "end of episode prize" from Caine, or he jumps in mid-episode to hand them a helpful item, ooorr he's telling them that that's their objective for the adventure :3

also!! people have pointed out that Zooble isn't with the carriage with the others! Either this means that Zooble was given a surprise roll in the adventure, or she's off to have a fun solo adventure with Caine! Ohh! How exciting!

Zooble is a favorite character of Goose's, so to learn more about him and why Goose loves them so much would be so exciting!!

Whats up with Jax?

hunched down, writing in the sand, hugging his knees, this topped with Goose's two-word description of the next episode to be "I"m nothing"... Oh Jax is gonna have a MOMENT...

We all know that no one likes the dude and he's going to get worse. I'm unsure if this will make me like the guy, but I'm optimistic!

I'm open to understanding and seeing another side of him that would make me like him! I already quite like how this scene is framed, how lonely he looks, the acting in these few seconds already tells me what kind of guy he is.

...despite one of the gummis being tied up in the corner

If i had to hypothesize, this probably stemmed with Jax acting out, you know, the usual "being a nuisance" to make everyone miserable,

Then It escalates

This gets on Ragatha's nerves, first starting out as a silly "haha cute interaction" between them and it escalates while the episode goes on where Ragatha genuinely gets mad at him and tells him to stay put while they do the work.

Speaking of Ragatha, She seems to be quite fond of the Princess! There is a part of me that wonders if she wants to sort of-- "prove" herself in a way, as a leader or otherwise. Ragatha does give me the "smart yet nice kid in class that everyone copies off of" energy... TwT This poor woman.

I don't know, just the way The Princess bends down and holds her hand, it's sort of sweetly mentorly or motherly in a way. I'm not saying this to infantilize Ragatha, I respect her so much as a mature 30-year-old adult, I say it as a testament to The Princesses' character. Princesses, Queens, and any sort of royalty have been characterized as the sort of "mother/father of all" sort of character type, which is sweet! And would be quite interesting!

I know that people are quick to do the shipping with these two, but I kind of like the idea of Ragatha wanting approval and validation.

BUT THATS JUST A THEORY!! A FILM THEORY!!! ANDDD CUT!!

[takumasheisty]

・𐑺 ‧₊˚໒꒱ Love Languages・𐑺 ‧₊˚໒꒱

Included: Isagi, Barou, Nagi, Kunigami, Reo

Synopsis: Different ways the blue lock boys show their love for you ☆｡･:*:

Pairing: male character x gn!reader

a/n: honestly this is all fluff to cleanse my mind of the smut i've been writing. Also I really dislike Isagi’s part but he’s my favoriteeeee 😔 idk why my writing is so poor

Isagi - words of affirmation

Isagi is your biggest hypeman. He constantly praises you, complementing every single one of your features. More than often, you catch him staring at you like he’s analyzing your face. It would be creepy if his intentions weren’t so pure.

“Your eyes are so beautiful Y/N”

Every once in a while, he likes to pack you a lunch. Along with the sandwiches and animal shaped fruits he packs you, there’s always special notes.

“You’re amazing, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

There was one time he was in a rush, and he forgot to write you a little message. Of course, you noticed and were disappointed, as you looked forward to his sentimental messages each time. He acknowledged this, never failing to write you a paragraph.

His favorite phrase consists of three words - I, love, and you. Everyday he makes sure he says it to you at least once, and you can tell that it’s always genuine and from the heart.

Barou - acts of service

Barou doesn’t say “I love you” often, but he definitely shows it. He loves to do everything for you, and will get upset if he sees you doing any task.

“What’re you doing? Sit here, I’ll do it.”

It’s not that he thinks you can’t do it, he knows you’re very capable. But he believes that he should be the one to do everything around the house, so you can relax. “As a good boyfriend should.” he always insists.

He’s a great cook, and loves to make you all different types of foods. What’s more, is that he’s attentive. He takes note of the foods and deserts you like the most, so he can make them more often. And he does the dishes. He hates to see you washing anything, so he does after part as well.

Nagi - quality time

Ever since you guys began dating, you’ve been attached at the hip. Everywhere you are, he is. He loves spending time with you, even if he’s just napping next to you while you’re immersed in your favorite book. He trails behind you, even if you’re just walking to the bathroom or the kitchen.

One time he was was napping, and you wanted to go get some takeout. The second he felt the weight of the mattress shift, he woke up.

“Where’re we going? He spoke in a sleepy voice, set on following you to wherever you we’re planning to go.

You guys don’t even need to be doing anything specific, he simply enjoys being in your presence, it makes him feel safe and comfortable.

Kunigami - physical touch

This boy always has to have his hands on you. Not even sexually, he just always has to be touching you in some way. You always find his arm wrapped around your waist, and his fingers intertwined with yours, especially in public. Kunigami has no shame. He will show that he is yours, holding hands and following behind you like a puppy.

Kunigami likes to snake his hand up your shirt and feel your chest. Again, nothing sexual, he just loves feeling as close to you as possible.

“Ye’r so warm..”

His favorite hobby is cuddling. He will cuddle you whenever, wherever like a giant teddy bear. In bed, on the couch, on the floor I promise it does not matter. As long as he has you lying on his chest, he will cuddle you whenever he can.

Reo - gift giving

Reo’s mindset is that he has money, so he might as well spend it on you. Every week you end up with a new piece of jewelry and a bouquet of flowers. You insist that he doesn’t have to buy you so many gifts all the time, and it makes people think you’re only with him for his money, which you’re not.

“Don’t worry about what others are saying, I know you love me. Besides, I can spend my money on whatever I choose.”

Whenever you two go out, he swipes his card like crazy, buying anything that you seem even the littlest bit interested in. Now you guys are walking out of the mall, him carrying 7 bags of whatever with a satisfied smile on his face.

Reo always treats you out to breakfast, lunch, and dinner at the most expensive places. And he buys you little trinkets from wherever he travels so you always have something to remind you of him.

“You are the best so you deserve the best.”

[noira-l]

Just the Two of Us

chapter summary: there is nothing like arguing with your pretend ‘husband’, right?

pairing: gojo satoru x f!sorcerer reader

wc: 2,9k

warnings: swearing, argument, adult life is kinda hard, higher-ups are fools, angst from Megumi, mature themes, slight mentioning of sexual activity, spoilers (manga, anime, movie).

author's note: well, we began here. I hope you like it, and I can write you more. I'm still experimenting with style, and genre, so please be understanding. You're welcome to leave some notes and comments to help me grow :3 I would appriciate it.

s.masterlist

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏 '𝐄𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡'

You used to love summer.

Beautiful weather, long bike rides through the unknown corners of Tokyo, trips to arcades with Suguru, the beach with Shoko and Utahime. Just the good old days.

Now you hate summer.

You feel like a curse has fallen on every summer, starting with the star plassma vessel incident. All the worst things that are supposed to happend, happen in the summer.

And this summer was no exception.

Tsumiki, whose condition no one was able to recognise.

Megumi, who, due to her sister's situation and the stress of his lack of fully mastered powers, made him even more grumpy than ever.

And Satoru.

Oh fuck Satoru

You've never seen him so pissed off, higher-ups have never been kind to you, you've always known that. You've seen it yourself many times. But now? Suddenly now they have a problem with Megumi attending Jujutsu High?

The number of your visits to them has increased dramatically, which has only contributed to constant bickering over really unimportant trifles or hiding grudges where there were none. Your home turned into a veritable minefield filled with anger and bitterness. And every day you wondered what you were going to step on this time.

You knew that if things didn't improve, all those wounds and worries would seep deep into each of you, and you didn't want that.

Even though your marriage only existed on paper, you genuinely genuinely cared for him. And he cared for you.

After Suguru left you didn't think anyone would be able to understand what you were feeling, Satoru proved you otherwise. You were both experiencing the same thing, it brought you together in a way, enough to open up between you and form an alliance of sorts that no matter what fate brought your way, you would deal with it together.

The foundations of a perfect marriage? You laughed under your breath. If this marriage was still made for purposes other than convenience in paperwork and ease of custody. You have never had a wedding, you don't even wear rings, you don't even act like a couple. You are both just good friends who grew up to become good parents. Always complementing each other. At least you tried.

The beginnings were difficult, that's a fact, you were both still young at the time, you didn't know how to do certain things, and raising 2 children was never part of the Jujutsu High education programme.

When you graduated, you both left school with broken hearts, old hurts and the hope that your dream of a better future for the young would become a reality. There was almost no talk of romantic feelings.

Almost.

On the day of your fifth wedding anniversary, out of boredom and slight compulsion, because you should at least celebrate the round anniversaries of your arrangement, you opened the sake that Nanamin had bought you for your first anniversary. As a conpensation for saving him from death on that day, which was technically supposed to be free for you. Both of you ended up on the couch, after drinking the entire bottle, fucking like the horny teenagers you still were somewhere deep inside. Satoru never had a strong head. Both of you, in the morning after a strong moral and general hangover, decided that it was better not to return to this situation and just forget about it. As far as this situation can be called a romantic feeling. Although you wouldn't call it that.

Satoru did not know the concept of personal space. And everyone who knew him was able to confirm this. Interestingly, you were the only one who was able to get close to his real personal space. Sleeping in the same bed with you for so many years, he had learned to reflexively switch off his infinity and cuddle with you in his sleep. At first the single bed was because you couldn't afford more than one, Satoru wasn't yet the head of the clan at the time and thus didn't have access to this sizeable fortune. Over time you just got used to it and the idea of sleeping separately seemed strange to you.

You caught yourself dreaming of a bed and his warm arms after another hard mission. You know he had the same thoughts coming really late at night, just to undress himself, and hug into you.

You both crawled into your routines. You've built what you dare to call 'home' on these foundations.

It was not perfect, the life of a jujutsu sorcerer was never strewn with roses or easy decisions but this 'home' was yours. You knew it along with him. And you were proud of what you had achieved together.

You didn't want all that had been built up with your hard work to be undone by one really hard summer. You didn't yet know how you were going to resolve the situation and how to talk to Satoru about it, but one thing you were sure of - you weren't going to give up.

There really is something wrong with this time of year, you sighed as you entered the flat you were renting.

"I'm back." you said rather loudly, you knew Megumi should be home at this hour. You went to the kitchen, put away the shopping nets you had made earlier and began to arrange the goods you had bought, leaving only what would serve for tonight's dinner. You took a small box of strawberry mochi out of the nets, you knew they had been going around Satoru's head lately. You placed them on the kitchen counter, adding a small heart sticker. For some strange reason, everyone in the household liked how you added those colourful stickers, even Megumi loved them, though he wouldn't admit it like Tsumiki did.

My little Tsumiki.

You were angry with yourself, unable to recognise what had actually happened to her and why it had happened so suddenly. You were angry that no one could recognise it. The amount of time you spent guessing, trying to recognise and the trial and error method, exceeded the numbers you knew. You tried, but it wasn't enough. You blamed yourself in advance for not defending her against it.

"What's for dinner today? I'm starving honestly~" you heard a voice behind you and turned around.

"Oh, Satoru, I wasn't expecting you so early. How was the mission?" you had already started preparing today's dinner. Satoru sat down at the kitchen island, not far from you.

"Can we not talk about this shit?" he sighed playing with some dark-haired boy's pencil.

oh…it's bad, isn't it?

"We can." you replied trying to think of something quick to talk to him about. "I bought you something." you pointed towards a small box. The white-haired man just glanced in that direction and a smile dawned on that face again.

"Aww~ Is that for me?" he reached for the casket with his long hand and opened the lid. "Did I mention you're the best wife in the world?" his giggle would be heard from down the street.

Of course Satoru loved sweets, especially the ones you bought him, because you always took care when choosing them, not buying just anything, but really what he liked.

"Sometimes you mention it to me." you said, throwing all the ingredients into the pans.

"I should to it more often then," he said with his mouth stuffed with one of the mochi. The sight of his satisfied face really filled you with small happiness.

"Where's Megumi?" you asked while stirring the contents of the pan.

The strongest merely sighed.

"I asked you to avoid difficult topics" his face was again filled with another mochi from the box.

You walked over to him and took the box from him.

"Why? You're so cruel, you know?" he merely asked pouting at the sight of you taking his joy.

"You'll get the rest of the packaging, after the meal." you stressed, and he continued to pout. You put the box back in the cupboard

"So, where's Megumi?" you asked a second time, pressing for him to answer you.

"You know how young people are today, they just leave without asking, without saying anything to anyone" now your sigh was overwhelming.

"You two had a fight, didn't you?"

"Ayay, I wouldn't call it a fight, more of a youthful rebellion on his part, you've been seeing this kind of behaviour more and more lately. You know, he's maturing. Aren't you proud?" you grabbed your temples where am I going to find him now?

"And how long ago he went to his…" you looked at him seriously "…'youthful rebellion'?"

Satoru glanced at his watch "Hmm…. Like 3 hours ago?" your eyes were the size of coins "But I'm not sure." he added in wonderment

You're going crazy here.

"And you allowed him to have these rebelions at this hour?" Satoru merely shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know what you mean, if he wants to go out then let him go out, he is capable of defending himself, after all he has unlocked to some extent his powers-"

"But not as much as we would like" you sighed "not as much as he would like." you vigorously stirred the contents of the pan, trying to pour all your anger into it so that it wouldn't accidentally be shown in words.

"You're being dramatic, it's only true to a certain extent. He has more potential than anyone else so far, I believe in him…. Which doesn't mean he's not a little weak right now." you froze, stopping the wooden spoon you used to turn things in the pan. Your own memories flowed into your head like water.

He had said something like that to you too. When you were still in high school, he could, like a complete asshole, ridicule you for hours and hours, about how you had no powers at all and were weak. You always ended up then in Suguru's arms, who was probably the only one who seemed to know what you were up against in those moments.

As it turned out, his derision found no cover in reality when one morning, after Suguru had left and after your arrangements had been made, you flashed the same eyes at him that he has, explaining to him why he could not use his techniques at that moment. The shock and disbelief that appeared on his face was payment enough, for the lack of apology on his part (for which you are still slightly angry) and for all the mockery you have bravely endured over the years.

You know what it's like to feel weak. You know what it's like when no one believes in you, when you yourself want to give up on yourself, trying to convince yourself that what everyone around you is saying is not true. You know how much hardship and effort goes into not just training, but convincing yourself that you are worth something. You don't want Megumi to ever experience the same sense of powerlessness that you had to endure. Especially not from the same person you had to endure it from.

"Did you tell him that?" you asked, glancing over your shoulder at him, trying to control yourself.

"What?" he asked still playing with the pencil in his hand.

"That he's weak." you must have said it really threateningly because Satoru's face immediately changed expression, you were able to see it right away despite his bandages.

"I didn't necessarily use those words." he said moving his gaze from your face to the pencil.

You took the frying pan off the fire and gave the pot of water in its place.

You sighed gathering in yourself not to do anything stupid today, although he really asked for it.

"You can't spill such words right and left. Not you in particular. " you said it as calmly as you could, turning towards him.

"I don't see the problem. I told the truth, besides I also stated the fact that he has potenc-"

"Of course everyone for you is weak, Gojo" he knew that when you addressed him by his last name, something was wrong or he fucked something up. "Which doesn't mean that everyone wants to hear about this fact. Do you realize what he's going through?" you asked the question into the ether, after a second adding "Well, yes, of course you don't, you've always been the strongest after all." The stupidity of your statement was killing you. You were able to understand his lack of competence in identifying with those weaker than himself, what you were not able to accept was how he was flaunting it.

"You are not weak." he said this while looking at you intensely.

"And after how long did you find that out? You oppressed me for years. It only changed when I showed you my technique." why do you sound disappointed?

Satoru would be lying if he said that his respect and view of you did not change after you showed him your powers.

"You know the higher-ups don't want to think about letting him go to school, and I don't understand why at this point in time you have to conclude that he is weak."

"Just not this topic, again~ We were already at such a family atmosphere." White-haired growled sighing, squirming in his chair

"What do you mean, I was the one who had to defend him from them again today-" you crossed your arms

"You talk as if I didn't do it myself yesterday" he growled, his voice rising "They keep sending me like an errand dog, on every fucked up mission they can think of, and I do it all without a moment's rest. Today I refused to meet with them, I'm shirking everything I can. I'm sick of listening to old idiots who care about rules that have long since ceased to apply. And! Of course the Zen'in clan has a problem with everything."

"As if your clan was so conciliatory.." you snarked with a wince.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" he indignantly replied.

"I met your mother today and she made it clear that she was 'expecting a grandchild' " you turned quickly to throw things into the pot of boiling water, you could see Satoru grabbing his head "She stated that 'it's my duty as your spouse', it's enough for her that she covered herself in shame when our secret wedding came to light. It surprises me that she is eager to make such statements, not being the head of the clan and still having a problem about what was almost eight years ago."

"Don't worry about it, I'll call her out." Satoru sighed. Despite the fact that you were standing with your back to him now, you could feel his gaze on you.

You needed a break. A break from the curses, the higher-ups, the arguments and the flurry of responsibilities. You knew Satoru needed one too. You stood there in thought, leaning against the countertop and looking at the pot with its boiling contents, when unexpectedly you felt a touch on your waist.

You looked up to see his silhouette pressed against your back. "I'm not the best at words or expressing feelings, as you've become familiar with more than once.." he laid his head on your shoulder "but I don't want you to feel like shit, these last few weeks are probably making you tired too."

Gojo was known for not respecting other people's personal space, this time he used it in a good way. You turned to him and snuggled into his warm torso. He held you in his arms for a few moments, stroking your hair and inhaling the scent of your perfume that he, himself had bought you for Christmas. He casually turned off the cooker, when he decided that what you had thrown into the pot, had cooked.

You didn't even know you needed it. His uniform completely smelled of him, despite the fact that you picked it up from the laundry literally yesterday.

It's funny how much his smell started to be associated with safety for you. Maybe it was because of that one mission where he held you the whole time in his arms when you almost died, or maybe it was just out of habit and years spent with him. You'd swear, you could fall asleep here and forget all your worries.

The sound of your burbling stomach snapped you out of this bliss. You looked at each other, you with an embarrassed face and he with an amused smile.

"It's going to be all right, we'll work something out, as always." he said, kissing you on the forehead. You didn't expect such a gesture from him. He guessed it from your face as he took his hands off your waist, moving away from you and putting his hands back, this time on your shoulders.

"Now let's eat something, you're not the only one who's starving." he said then turned on his heel and headed to his previously occupied seat.

"Find Megumi first, then you'll get your portion." you said and he snorted with laughter "Are you ordering me around?" that smile of his lead you to many things.

"No, I'm giving you a challenge, if you find him quickly your dinner won't get cold." you waved your spoon at him lightly.

His smile only deepened "I can take orders like that every day~" he said then immediately disappeared behind the wall, leaving you alone.

© noira-l 2024 | all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, modify, or redistirbute my work without permission.

[monster-disaster]

Hi darling, i see you have some somnophilia works.. May i sprinkle my current hyperfixation in? You have a stalker vampire who lives in your attic and feeds at night, either on you or goes out in the neighborhood. You start to have a sneaking suspicion you're being watched until you catch him. He can turn into a bat and creep through the attic door to get inside easily... He falls in love with you when you're up late singing, drawing, and cooking/showering. Um... And maybe he can see you in the shower through a vent in the ceiling 🫣 thank you i love your writing mwah

vampire!stalker x human!Reader Good to know: stalking

And you know what the funny thing is? You were the one who put him in your attic one morning when you were just about to get into your car and leave. By sheer luck, you happened to notice him curled up under your car, right behind one of the front wheels.

"Oh," you gasped at the sight. "You poor thing." Without thinking, you knelt beside the car, your heart softening as you took in the little creature’s vulnerable form. He looked so fragile, so out of place in the daylight. You extended a cautious hand, murmuring soothing words as you gently scooped him up. His small body was colder than you expected, but for a moment, he seemed to settle into your palm, as if relieved to be found. “You don’t have much survival skill, do you?” The thought of what might have happened if you hadn’t noticed him made you shudder. “You’re lucky I didn’t drive over you. But don’t worry, I know just the place where you’ll be safe.” Cradling him close, you turned back toward the house. You moved through the familiar hallway, your footsteps soft on the wooden floor as you made your way to the attic. The space was rarely used, cluttered with old memories and forgotten things, but it was quiet and safe, perfect for a little bat in need of shelter. “You’ll be safe here until it gets dark,” you murmured as you set him down in a cozy corner, carefully lining it with the soft fabric from an old box that had seen better days. You could feel the cool air of the attic as you moved, and after a moment’s hesitation, you left the window slightly open, just enough to give him a way out whenever he felt ready. You watched him for a few seconds longer, making sure he was comfortable, before closing the attic door with a quiet click. Two days passed before he crossed your mind again, but when you pushed open the attic door, the corner where you’d left him was empty.

You hoped the small animal was fine, but you had no idea that your story with him was far from over. At first, he genuinely wanted to stay away, but you lingered so vividly in his memory that he couldn't keep himself from returning. At first, he stayed only in your attic, listening to the sounds of your life around the house.

Your house was old, with creaking floorboards and doors that groaned on their hinges. The attic was dim and dusty, cobwebs stretching across the corners. The only light came through the window, filtering the moon’s glow into pale patches and deep shadows on the ground. He had spent countless nights here over the past few weeks, silently observing as the house lived and breathed around him, while he remained still and unseen in the darkness. Below, a door closed softly, followed by the gentle padding of footsteps across the floor. He tilted his head slightly, listening to you move through the house. You were humming a tune you'd recently heard on the radio. A soft, quiet sound that carried through the otherwise still air. He heard your steps as you climbed the stairs, and moments later, music began to drift upward through the floorboards. It was upbeat, with a woman’s voice accompanied by a guitar keeping the rhythm. The vampire shifted slightly, careful not to disturb the thick layer of dust on the floor. You had no idea he was there, and he preferred it that way. He took pleasure in your unawareness. Next, the steady sound of water pattering against tile reached his ears as you stepped into the shower, still humming and singing softly to yourself. For a long second, the dark wall in front of him disappeared as he imagined you in the bathroom with your head slightly tilted back as you washed down the shampoo. The white suds of the soap gently slipped down on your bare body, following the lines of your curves. He had to force himself to stay still. Soon, the water stopped, and after a few moments, he heard the soft slap of your bare feet on the bathroom tiles, and then on the hallway floor. He could smell the fresh, clean scent of your shampoo and lotions drifting into his sensitive nose. Quickly, you returned to your bedroom, the music still playing softly in the background. There was a pause as you opened your wardrobe and pulled out a drawer, followed by the rustling of fabric as you dressed in something comfortable and warm. Now, he could hear your breathing and the steady beat of your heart, which seemed to align with the music. Your room was just below the attic. So close. You sighed softly, and he imagined you sinking into the bed. The old springs of the mattress groaned under your weight. He stayed all night, hidden in the shadows. After all, he had all the time in the world.

Of course, his need to get closer to you, to see you, grew over time. After a few months, hiding in your attic wasn't enough anymore, and he became bolder. At first, he came out only after you had fallen asleep.

The night was still as the vampire silently came down from the attic, making his way straight to your room. The old house seemed to hold its breath as he moved, careful not to disturb the quiet of your home. The faint, lingering scent of your recent shower still hung in the air, mingling with the cool night breeze that slipped through the cracks. The moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting a faint, silvery glow over your sleeping form. Your breathing was slow and even. You were blissfully unaware of the danger that lurked so close. He could easily reach out and touch you if he wished, and the thought sent a thrill through him. He stood by your bedside for a long moment, his gaze tracing the soft lines of your face, the fluttering of your lashes as you dreamed, and the gentle rise and fall of your chest. His fingertips tingled with the urge to reach out, just for a second, just to feel the warmth of your skin beneath his touch. There was something calming about you, something that eased the centuries-old hunger that gnawed at him. The memory of you holding his bat form so carefully and softly was vivid in his memory. Your palms were warm around his small body as your chest vibrated with every word you said to keep him calm. Almost without thinking, his hand moved, brushing over the line of your jaw from your ear to your chin. His touch was feather-light, barely a whisper against your skin, but the sensation sent a shiver through him. You were so warm, so alive. You stirred slightly, your body shifting beneath the covers, but you did not wake. The vampire froze, his hand lingering for a moment longer, savoring the contact, before he slowly drew it back. His fingers curled into a tight fist as he kept himself from reaching out again. He remained there for a few minutes, motionless, watching as you settled back into your dreams, completely unaware of the dark figure standing guard over you. He wanted to stay, to linger by your side until the first light of dawn, but he knew he couldn’t risk it. Not yet. With a final, reluctant glance, he began to retreat, slipping back into the shadows where he belonged. But he would return. He was certain of that.

It didn't take long for him to crave more. Soon, seeing you asleep wasn't enough.

The door of your bathroom was ajar, just enough for him to peer inside without being noticed. Steam curled out from the small gap, warm and fragrant, carrying the scent of your soap and shampoo into the cool air. It filled his nostrils as he edged closer without a sound. You stood under the spray, your head tilted back, eyes closed as the water cascaded over your body. The droplets caught in your hair and ran down your skin, glistening like tiny diamonds in the dim light. He watched, transfixed, as you moved beneath the stream. Your hands glided through your hair and over your body. There was something almost hypnotic in the rhythm of your movements, in the way you seemed so completely at ease, so unaware of the eyes that lingered on you from the shadows. He knew he shouldn’t be here, knew this was a line he had never intended to cross. But the allure of your presence, the simple beauty of you, was too much to resist. He felt a strange mix of hunger and something softer, something like longing, as he watched the water trace the contours of your body. His fingertips tingled with the image of your warm skin underneath his touch. For a brief moment, your eyes flicked open, and he held his breath, though he knew you couldn’t see him. You looked toward the door, a vague sense of something stirring in your gaze, but then you blinked and turned back to the water, shaking off whatever fleeting thought had crossed your mind. The vampire exhaled silently with relief. The brief moment of contact, of almost being caught, sent a thrill through him. He took one last lingering look at you, committing every detail to memory; the curve of your neck, the straight line of your spine, and the softness of your thighs. And then, as quietly as he had come, he slipped back into the shadows. The image of you under the shower would stay with him, a vivid memory to savor during the long hours of daylight.

Soon, his visits began to feel like a dance. He moved in perfect sync with you through the house. When you entered a room, he slipped into the shadows, always just out of sight, careful to remain unseen. He knew the rhythm of your nights, the way you moved from room to room, the way you lingered by the window or paused to turn off a light. But as the nights went on, something stirred within you; a suspicion that someone was there, watching, staying just out of your way but never leaving.

The kitchen was warm, filled with the scent of onions sizzling in the pan. You moved methodically, chopping vegetables and stirring sauces, trying to focus on the simple task of making dinner. The rhythm of cooking usually soothed you, but tonight, something was off. The feeling had been creeping up on you all evening, a persistent, unsettling sense that you weren’t alone. It gnawed at the edge of your thoughts, no matter how hard you tried to ignore it. The house was quiet, too quiet, and every creak of the floorboards, every rustle of the wind outside, seemed loud in the stillness. You paused for a moment, the knife hovering above the cutting board, and glanced around the kitchen. The lights cast long shadows across the floor, stretching into the corners where the darkness lingered. You told yourself it was nothing, just your imagination running wild, but the hairs on the back of your neck refused to settle down. As you returned to your cooking, your movements became more hurried, more anxious. The feeling of being watched grew stronger. You tried to shake it off, focusing on the task at hand, but your mind kept drifting away from your dinner. Finally, you set the knife down with your heart beating faster than it should. You turned slowly, scanning the room, half-expecting to catch a glimpse of something, or someone, in the shadows, but there was nothing, just the empty kitchen and the low hum of the refrigerator. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but the unease remained. The feeling of eyes on you, of someone lurking just out of sight, was too strong to ignore. Every movement you spent in the kitchen, or anywhere in the house was accompanied by the prickling sensation that you weren’t as alone as you thought.

As your suspicion grew and fear settled into your home, the vampire's feelings deepened. What had begun as a mere fascination had slowly morphed into something more serious, something he could no longer ignore.

The night was crisp and quiet, with only the distant hum of the city breaking the stillness. The vampire stood outside your window, hidden in the darkness. His eyes were fixed on the warm glow spilling from inside your home. The curtains were partially drawn, just enough to reveal you sitting on the couch, wrapped in a blanket and engrossed in the flickering screen of the TV. He had watched you countless times, seen you in every possible light and shadow, but tonight was different. The sight of you curled up in your cozy living room, lost in the world of your favorite show, stirred something within him that he hadn’t fully acknowledged until now. The way you snuggled into the blanket with a sigh that escaped your lips as you laughed at something on the screen moved something in him. It was all so intimate, so utterly human. His gaze softened, and he felt a pang of longing so intense it almost hurt. He watched the way your eyes danced with amusement, how your expressions changed with the flow of the story, and how you seemed to be completely at ease in your own world. It was in these small, everyday moments that turned his feelings into something more than fascination or obsession. He was in love with you. His heart, dead for a long time, ached with a longing he hadn’t known was possible. As he stood there, his thoughts raced. He had been drawn to you from the beginning, but now he realized it was more than mere curiosity or obsession. He had come to adore you even from afar. The way you lived your life, so genuine and unfiltered, made him yearn for things he had long forgotten. He imagined what it would be like to sit beside you, to be part of these simple moments that meant so much to him. The love he felt was both exhilarating and painful, a reminder of how far he was from the life he desired. The thought of revealing himself, of breaking through the barrier he had maintained for so long, seemed both a terrifying and exhilarating possibility, but he knew there was no way back. There was no way he could just walk away from you.

Watching you through the window, observing your life from the shadows only deepened his longing. He couldn’t go on like this. Being so close, yet so far wasn’t enough anymore.

You turned the corner with an eagerness in your chest to get inside your home and unwind after a long day at work. Your keys jingled in your hand as you approached your front door but before you could reach the stairs leading up onto your small porch, you noticed a figure standing in front of your neighbor's house. He was tall and impeccably dressed in a dark suit that seemed to absorb the lights of the streetlamps towering at the edge of the sidewalk. He was engrossed in a conversation with the elderly couple who lived next door. Their faces were lit with curiosity and welcome as they nodded at something the stranger said. As you drew closer, without your notice or permission, he turned to face you, and an unexpected chill rippled down your spine. His smile was disarmingly charming, but there was something about it that made you pause. In the dim glow of the street lights, you noticed the glint of his fangs, sharp and white. They caught the light in a way that made your heart skip a beat. “Good evening,” he said, his voice smooth and inviting. “I’ve just moved into the house next door.” You blinked, momentarily speechless. “Oh, hello,” you managed to say, trying to keep your voice steady. “I didn’t realize the house was sold.” His smile widened, and he took a step closer, extending a hand. “Yes, it’s quite recent. I’m delighted to meet you. I’m afraid I didn’t get a chance to properly introduce myself to the neighbors before now.” You hesitated for a moment before shaking his hand. His grip was firm but gentle, and his touch was unexpectedly cold. “I’m Y/N,” you said, trying to smile. Your throat felt dry and tight as you forced the words to roll off your tongue. “Welcome to the neighborhood.” “Thank you,” he said, his gaze lingering a moment longer than necessary. “I’ve heard good things about this area.” You glanced at the house he had just mentioned mostly so you had a reason to tear your gaze away from him. “Are you settled in?” “Almost,” The man replied. “Just a few more things to arrange. But I’m sure I’ll be very comfortable here.” The way he spoke, with an almost eerie calm and certainty, sent another shiver down your spine. “Well, if you need any help or information about the area, feel free to ask." You regretted your polite offer the moment it left your lips. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, his smile never wavering. “Thank you, Y/N. I’ll be sure to drop by soon. Have a lovely evening.” As you watched him turn back to the elderly couple, your heart was still racing. The encounter had left you with a sense of unease that you couldn’t quite shake but were too afraid to stay and look into it. You hurried inside, and after locking the door behind you, twice, you tried to push the strange meeting from your mind. It's fine, you thought. You just have a few difficult weeks behind you. But as you settled into your evening routine, the man's smile and those glistening fangs lingered in your thoughts, leaving you with a growing sense of curiosity and uncertainty about the new neighbor next door.

[lullabyes22-blog]

Hi lullabyes, would u mind sharing your take on the flashback with young Silco, Vander, and Felicia? :O

It's adorable. It's touching. It's sweet. It's a serene moment of intimacy and family (or polycule) bonding in an otherwise deeply frenetic season.

It's also so surreal it may as well be a fever dream.

I should note, at this stage I've shut off my cognitive reasoning about Arcane and begun approaching this as if it's a series of exquisitely crafted, animated short films that are all about to collide into a beautiful disaster.

Because that's what it is.

S2 has thrown a lot of the intelligent plotting out the window to embrace the chaos.  Whether due to time constraints, intellectual fatigue, or creative indulgence, I feel like we have a show that's now just hurtling breakneck towards the finish line. Previous story threads that once held weight and were the driving force behind character arcs and subplots, have since been abandoned. Nuanced motivations and character growth are being tossed to the wayside for the sake of action, montages, music videos, and a cavalier, anything-goes approach to world-building.

And yet, it's still such an incredible spectacle to behold.

@ravenkinnie delightfully noted that she is now watching this show with her pussy.

I agree 100%. S2 is a full-body experience, and one I find myself wholly consumed by. It's like a one-night stand you weren't expecting to be so fucking good. And when the sun comes up, you know it's going to hurt to say goodbye, and there'll be no follow-up call.

But damn, you enjoyed the shit out of that experience.

So yeah, the flashback was fucking adorable. I love the genuine emotion and closeness between the three characters. I adore the idea of Felicia, Silco and Vander being childhood friends (or, again, a very messy polycule) and both men sort of falling apart without her Manic Pixie Dream Girl presence in their lives. It's a nice little character arc.

However.

I cannot reconcile this scene with the rest of S1. It feels completely disconnected from the reality of the show and the world around them. The flashback has absolutely no impact on the current events, nor does it have any foreshadowing. The flashback exists solely to provide us with a glimpse into the past, with sweet little parallels to serve as bonbons that make us coo and sigh. It completely glosses over Silco's deeply, blackly visceral hatred of Vi in S1, reduces the class struggle culminating in the Day of Ash to "Oh, Silco. If only you've protested for your basic civil rights in a peaceful manner instead of tossing a molotov cocktail, you'd still have your family, a place in the community, not to mention your eye," does not really explain why Benzo reacted to Silco's appearance by calling him an animal, and, most importantly, gives the lie to the entire dynamic between Silco and Jinx.

We were led to believe that Felicia's death was the catalyst for Silco and Vander's falling out.  That if Silco had found Vander's letter in their little Brokeback bunk, they would've worked out their differences and found peace together. That they'd have raised Felicia's anklebiters side-by-side as the Zaundads of the revolution.

Except Silco is also the man selling Evil Anime PCP (Shimmer) as an economic cheat-code to earn respect for his people, and Vander is basically Captain Centrist and traumatized by war, and there is NO WAY they would've seen eye-to-eye on their respective methods. There's no way they would've come to any sort of accord. And there's no way Silco would've forgiven the man who mutilated and left him possibly sheared of half his lifespan, any more than Felicia's children would forgive the man who killed their mother.

It's such an incongruous narrative beat.

Which brings me to the other point:

Silco and Jinx.

imo, while I love the idea of Silco carrying either a secret torch for Felicia, or seeing her as a sister he'll always love, and while I absolutely treasure the idea of Jinx being a daily reminder of what he's fighting for - "I'm doing this for us, Jinx." - it sort of cheapens the key connection between them. In S1, Silco and Jinx's arc is, in my eyes, one of the best things about the series, and so incredibly well-written and executed. Silco is a monster, yes, but his monstrosity is the product of systemic and individual trauma, and the inextricable bleedthrough between the two. Finding this little girl and bringing her up under his wing, he has the chance to be the steadying hand and safe harbor he lost after Vander's betrayal. His monstrousness is not something he inflicts on her; it is something that, rather, grows on JInx like a kudzu vine, as the terrain of her damaged mind is already fertile for his worldview and methods to take root and thrive.

He is, perhaps, the best example of nurture triumphing over nature, even if his nurturing is rather, uh, extreme.

But if their bond is predicated on Felicia, rather than two strangers finding each other in the wilderness of heartbreak and learning to let their black hearts beat, messily entwined, as one family unit, and if Silco's obsession with Jinx is merely a projection of his guilt for killing her mother, and, by extension, a projection of his love for Felicia onto her daughter...

It's just.

Do y'all remember those uncomfortable frames that the showrunners admitted were deliberate, despite the evidence in the written text suggesting a familial bond? The subtext that, all the way into S2, carries the implication of a romantic relationship between a father and his daughter?

Well.

The implications now threaten to melt into explicit text, and the uncomfortable frames have turned into Unfortunate Implications, and I am not sure how I feel about this.

 It's not giving Lily and Snape; it's giving Sansa and Baelish.

It's giving the showrunners a big, fat "YEESH" rating from CPS.

And it's giving us the same, old, tired trope of a monstrous man unable to form an attachment unless it's through the lens of prior attachments, that whole 'You remind me so much of her' and the like.

 (I also admit I am the world's biggest hypocrite as the entire premise of Forward but Never Forget/XOXO is that the core foursome of Vander, Silco, Lika and Sevika knew each other, and that those ghosts haunt the machinery of the present day. But I try my damnedest to make plain there's politics buffeting all these relationships, and despite all their efforts to claw at self-sovereignty, reinvention and a new order, the past is a stubborn bitch that refuses to let go.)

(Also in FnF, Silco is triggered by Lika rather than into her in any affectionate or romantic way, because they're so similar: pragmatic survivors who aren't above rule-bending to get their way, and at their core just want a smoke break, a stiff drink, and a nap. It's a mutual respect rather than an affection, which is why she bestows on him the dubious honor of mercy killing her if she's too wounded on the Day of Ash to continue on.)

(He's the one person who could, and would, do her the service. It's kinship, and Jinx is the bright torch of their shared ambitions and ingenuity given both wing and voice.)

But anyway.

The flashback is a fever-dream. The kind you have when you're high on cold meds and can't think straight, and the world is a blur of sensations and memories that seem vivid in the moment but melt away into madness when you're better. It's a scene meant to be savored rather than interrogated. And I think if the showrunners had the time and inclination, we would've gotten a second episode solely dedicated to the flashback, rather than shoehorning it in. But since they're clearly trying to tie everything up with a neat bow before the finale, I don't blame them for having to skim past it and focus on the vibes/emotional resonance rather than the substance of a meaningfully written scene.

But hey.

Fanfic writers will have a field day with the open-ended dynamic and the fandom will never fucking stop, so that's nice.

Also we got loads of fantastic gifs of Young Silco. Bless.

<3

tl;dr: I've switched my critical brain off and decided to just enjoy the ride. It's so fucking epic. 

Also, Felicia was delightful and I hope her brotherhood/polycule/whatever with Silco and Vander gets its own spinoff, a la Road to El Dorado (or Zaun.)

[sunboki]

— KEEP IT BUSINESS. a Lee Minho fiction

Lee Minho x f. reader

TROPE. best friends to lovers, coworkers! au, first kiss? au (hehe), domestic/soft minho, fluff

WARNINGS. cursing, making-out, inexperienced kissing, annoying coworkers

WORD COUNT. 6.9k words

AUG'S NOTES. so glad to have finally completed this!! it’s been rotting in my drafts for weeks and i just had to write a happy ending for these two grandparents 🫶🏼

PLAYLIST.

SYNOPSIS. Life can be a mess, and with you and Minho as the only two singles in your office building, an impertinent Valentine’s day leaves no choice but to make a pact.

or alternatively :

If we’re still single by twenty-five, we date each other.

Four years.

It’s been four years since you first met Lee Minho, working with him at the same company, becoming the best of friends. And yet, the same dread lay specially reserved for the same season.

The season of love, or, to most people, Valentine’s day.

.

.

.

Alarm set for 6:30AM. Work from 8:30AM to 4PM. Every day of the week, every year.

Initially, the experience was relatively enjoyable. It paid well, wasn’t too harsh on hours, and other coworkers minded their own business (at least in your case) without being a pain.

Then the loneliness set in.

It was subtle at first, a tiny pang in your heart when you returned home to a dark, cold apartment while others would be greeted by a pet, a loved one.

So when Lee Minho, a new member of the company assigned as your apprentice came along, you tend to think meeting him was, in a weird, spontaneous manner, meant to be.

And four years later, when he had grown from that apprentice-ship and became established as an employee, you still hold onto that “meant to be” philosophy.

Busied chatter fills the downstairs cafe, familiar faces alike brimming with conversation, breath coffee-stained.

Peering across the various assortment of tables, you spot him, two identical cups in each hand, wearing that bemused expression as usual.

At this point, Minho has memorized your order by heart, arriving early after his daily stop by the nearby animal shelter (whose manager knew by heart). Most morning’s you’d await a picture of the newest addition to the feline section, a photo he proudly shows off like his own trophy.

You’re genuinely surprised his residence isn’t a constantly growing cat-kingdom.

“Looking forward to it?”

Brows furrowing, you sidle to his right and dish the warm beverage into your grasp.

“Looking forward to wha— wait wait don’t say it. I want to pretend it doesn’t exist.” Hurriedly waving your hands, Minho cracks a grin.

The cursed word in question being: Valentine’s day.

You can’t say you hate it. It never did anything to you, nor did it leave you heartbroken. To put it simply, the office over the first few weeks of February was a close-resembling spinoff to Singles Inferno except, much spicier and way too inappropriate in broad daylight.

Meaning, for the past five years (four joined by Minho), merely mentioning said season of love urges impending dread and deep frowns.

“All I’m gonna say is I would not want to be a doctor over Valentines,” You wince, sipping the warm drink with a squeamish face.

Minho sighs vehemently, propping an elbow against the computer cart behind him.

“I bet you could witness more vibrators in that hospital than in an Adam and Eve,” He grumbles, watchful eyes surveying the daily crowd occupying tables and chairs in the building’s downstairs café.

Slamming a fist to your chest to correct your breathing, your eyes practically bulge from your skull, evidently caught of guard.

Leave it to Minho to make you suffocate before your shift even begins.

8am is prime time for socialization—otherwise before Mrs. Song decides to unleash her wrath on newbies. She has good intentions, sure, but let’s just say most anyone was petrified upon first meeting her.

Luckily, your department with Hyeongmi, Minho, and Felix was secluded on the far side of the building, leaving you out of the woman’s hair, free to work as you please.

Yet, Mrs. Song wasn’t the problem, not when it came down to the month of February.

Your phone’s alarm signaling to start moving momentarily wards off the thought, and either of you begin toward the elevator, flat expressions describing the sinking feeling better than words.

Back at it, again.

Because by your lunch break, you can’t fathom entering the cafeteria, not if it costs you your life.

Everywhere you look someone is making out, confessing their love, or, worst you’ve seen it all day, genuinely fucking in the bathrooms.

Perhaps you’d send Minho a text you’re making an escape by eating in the office, invite him up for some solace.

Except, it seems he had the same idea.

Scrambling through the door, you enter at the same time, heaving sighs of exasperation upon securing much needed privacy.

Making prolonged eye contact, your thoughts come spilling out.

“If I witness another make-out in the stairwell I’m ending it all.”

“Boxes of chocolates are officially ruined for me now.”

Four years and it never gets old. Same old painful memories, same old excitement for the day to come and go. And it’s not like you hate the holiday itself, you two just.. heavily dislike the immense bucketloads of PDA and office hookups that come along with it.

Not-so-gracefully flopping down onto your chairs, you practically shovel food down, gladly accepting the few rolls of gimbap Minho places onto your plate.

Customary sharing. You give him some of your food, he gives you some of his.

In those brief minutes of silence do you get the opportunity to fully comprehend your own thoughts, prior to Minho clearing his throat.

“Drinks at my place?”

Your grown loudly in agreement.

Minho : Okay, I’m leaving, follow me in thirty minutes

Glancing up, you watch your counterpart lift his brows your way and call out his departure, sifting through the doorway, cross body bag thumping against jeans.

Hyeongmi was downstairs, which, as awful as it sounded, was great not having to endure her nosiness.

This was how you stayed unbothered. He’d leave, and thirty minutes later you would too in order to (for now) avoid Mrs. Song (and Hyeongmi’s) pestering.

It couldn’t have taken the clock longer to reach 4:30PM. So by the time the beloved minute hand struck 4:29 you practically lurched from your seat, almost tasting sweet freedom before a face showed up right before you slipped through the exit.

Hyeongmi’s face.

What she’s talking about you can’t seem to understand, mind trained on escaping and escaping alone.

“C’mon now, you two are the only two in this building without a date. It’s been four years, Y/n! You need to let loose!” Hyeongmi emphasizes, dizzying your head the longer she shakes your shoulders.

“You do realize everyone has the hots for him but that he only hangs out with you, right? I’m telling you, it’s a sign—“

“Sorry Hyeongmi, I really have to go-“

Fastening your bag tigher across your body, you make a mad-dash as far away as possible, pretending to ignore the “use protection!” she shouted before the crisp evening breeze nipped your nose.

Use protection my butt, you grovel, ushering the scarf further above your chin as if to secure as much warmth possible.

She doesn’t know anything, not about how you took him under your wing as your apprentice the first year he joined, not about how much Minho loves cats, or how the keychain on that crossbody bag of his is a keychain you bought for him.

Simply placing it, she’s a person lead by the assumptions of others and adopting them as her own.

It irritates you.

Veering to your right, you thank his decision to house nearby, arriving at the foot of his porch after a mere ten-minute walk.

Delivering a few knocks on the townhome’s doorway, you note the paint chipping, colorful exterior worn from the sun’s rays.

Everything from the few cracks in the sidewalk to the relatively invisible stain of coffee on his doorknob lay memorized by frequency—his property second nature to you.

“Never have I hated being single this much,” You whine, slumping onto his couch after hurling your bag atop a hook in the foyer.

And despite the lack of response, you can tell Minho heard you. The faint, breathy chuckle enough evidence of his presence.

Perched on a chair he’d likely dragged from the kitchen, a feline companion occupies his lap, both comfortably relaxing on the patio, wine glass in hand.

Accordingly arranged on the countertop is another glass (you presume as yours), that you pour the vinegar-tinged substance into.

“I mean.” Slightly struggling to haul a neighboring chair to his side and simultaneously avoid splashing wine everywhere, you eventually find an equilibrium.

“It’s not like I asked to be single, I’m just too busy to consider a relationship, y’know?”

Minho absentmindedly hums, urging you to take a much-needed sip of the orchid-colored liquid.

Finally, you sigh out the last of your evening’s thoughts.

“..Hyeongmi caught me on the way out.”

Nor does this occasion need a reply either, the man’s suppressed giggle suitable enough.

“Mm.. I’ve got an idea.”

Carefully allowing the elongated glass to clink atop a translucent table, you cross and uncross your legs, welcoming the rustle of life around you into your eardrums, easing the cluttered space of your brain.

“Shoot.”

He clicks his tongue, gaze flitting to the emerging moon overhead.

“If we’re still single by twenty-five, we date each other.“

Making a surprised sound to yourself, you break into unadulterated laughter, about to call him hilarious before taking into account this is Minho you’re referring to, and the likelihood he’s joking on any matter is unlikely.

Sure it sounds cliché, but it’s Minho, why not?

…And perhaps that decision was made with a few glasses of wine in play.

“I’m in.” You grin, returning his outstretched hand by bumping your glasses before downing the remaining gulp, cheeks aglow, alcohol ridding your breath a distasteful stench.

Tipsy. Minho is charming normally, but especially when he’s tipsy.

He’s got this way of speaking that could get any unsuspecting girl reaching to unzip his pants in a second, sultry, half-lidded eyes drinking the person in front of him, talking like he has sugar lining his lips.

When Minho is tipsy, he’s tempting. You didn’t need four years to teach you that.

That, and the spare pajama set folded in his top drawer reserved solely for you on nights like this—too gone to go home.

Although, as you rise to your feet and head to the bathroom, pulling said silk pajama shirt over your head, Hyeongmi’s words reverberate again.

You do realize everyone has the hots for him but that he only hangs out with you, right?

Hm. Minho was always a recluse though. And with your history, obviously he’d have some liking for you.

It’s been four years, Y/n! You need to let loose!

Turning to stare at yourself in the mirror, you sulk, head hanging low.

What if you did something tonight? Something risky, something testing the limits this friendship borderlines. You’re both drunk, likely willing.

Then again, does Minho want this too? Did he ever intend to “let loose”?

Anxiety plagues you, hurriedly scurrying your pants over your legs and exiting to find Minho still seated in the same spot, appearing all the more tempting without having to do a thing.

You blame the alcohol.

Stamping forward as if you prepared a speech, you stop just behind his chair, mustering any ounce of liquid courage manageable.

“Minho.”

He grunts.

“You’re really pretty.”

Let loose. This is letting loose when it comes to Minho.

What, you thought you were gonna fuck? Yeah, that’s a funny one.

Winding himself around to see you, his lips wind into a sweet smile, urging you closer with a mere look before he reaches forward and taps your nose, dark eyes roaming your face.

“I’ve always thought you were pretty too.”

And perhaps, caught in a trance from his glittering stare, something did happen those four years you’ve been together after all.

You blame the alcohol.

The impulsive part about this “date at twenty-five” pact you had forgotten to consider was the fact both of you were twenty-four, meaning in less than a year whatever plan Lee Minho had stirred up after plenty glasses of wine would oil it’s gears into motion.

Thankfully Valentines comes and goes, and Summer creeps dangerously close, the longer hours of daylight and lingering sunshine enough to make every work-day feel extra laborious.

First day of summer, Minho texts you, asking if you want to join him on a walk.

Mind you, it’s 10AM in the morning, an hour you couldn’t fathom waking up at on the first day of summer.

You groan and flop back down, shutting off your phone and slamming the pillow over your head in a pitiful attempt at falling back asleep.

Only for your doorbell to ring twenty minutes later.

Over.

And over.

And over.

The urge to screech compels your barely-awake form, legs wobbling out of bed to feebly reach the doorway in a sleep-ridden haze.

Of course, lo and behold, Minho lies responsible, clad in running shoes, a pair of shorts, and a black nike zip-up.

He’s evidently pleased—whether from how disheveled you appear—or that he actually got you out of bed in the first place by the lingering smile tugging at his lips.

You hate to say it, but he’s annoyingly attractive, there’s no denying.

“Caught you at a bad time, hm?” He tips his head down to make eye-contact, peering through wild hair and lidded eyes at your half-alive self.

All you can manage out is a minuscule grunt, about to close the door before Minho jars his hand in, inviting himself inside much to your dismay.

Like instinct, he heads straight to your closet, surveying the chaos his insistent door-bell ringing caused before fetching a sweatshirt to pull over your head and a pair of socks from your drawer.

Though, as you wake up a tad bit more, you hurriedly keep him from putting your socks on for you as he bends down, shying away with an irritated whine.

“If this is what dating you is like I’m calling off the pact,” You mumble, stomping toward the door with Minho pushing you forwards without chance of escape.

He giggles, seeming to contain utmost glee witnessing your temper tantrum.

“Oh trust me sweetheart, the fun never ends.”

He’s hopeless too, apparently.

Lucky for you, your friend’s visits occurred sporadically, meaning the 10AM wake up calls weren’t a daily routine of headaches.

In contrast, summer passed by in a flash, and you were shoved head-first into a packed schedule for a second time as the autumn leaves shriveled into crisp browns and oranges.

Autumn was always welcomed. It meant the chilling cold was approaching, yes, but it also signified apple cider being added to the downstairs café menu and—on those especially chilly mornings—bundling your neck in the scarf Minho bought you last christmas.

As for him, he frequents pointed shoes and straight-legged pants, his fudge-colored hair perfectly complimented by pumpkin scented fragrances and dusky red backdrops.

Brisk mornings call for thinking. And as you walk, you come to the indefinite conclusion apple cider fits Minho. Sweet, but not saccharine. Warm to the touch, reminiscent with a charming aftertaste. A silhouette that comes and goes as it pleases, leaving soon enough for you to crave it back again.

Regarding summer, he was sort of like a beach day. A vacation in the midst of roaring deadlines, the comfortable lull of waves buzzing your mind into a hazy, salty escapade.

Although as December plucks each oak of its splendor, a call on Sunday morning truly marks the season of winter.

“..Y/n?” Minho murmurs, his voice groggy, hoarse. You make a sound of acknowledgment in response.

“I think I’m sick, can you drop off some meds at the door?”

Pressing your phone close to your ear, you debate on your desire to scold him, remind him each time he gets a winter cold he should dress warmer.

Of course, your lips stay shut (just like they always have for the past few years), and you reply with a “Be there soon, hang tight” before ending the call and gathering your belongings.

At the supermarket you check out seaweed soup, multivitamins, and allergy relief—things of which you hope will alleviate some of his symptoms.

Eternally grateful for the spare key you’d been given a while back, you enter the home, calling his name until an exasperated sign of life was heard (more like coughed) from the bedroom.

Inside lay Minho, a distressing array of tissues scattered in all directions, clustered beyond belief. His nose is soured pink from incessant stuffiness, lips cracked and dry. Dark circles sag beneath tired eyes, worn disposition evidence of his condition.

Quick on your feet, you scour the bathroom for a thermometer, the device’s loud beep signifying a blaring fever as you hover by his bedside.

Watching the bowl of instant soup spin aimless circles in the microwave, Minho’s call knocks you out of your daydream, worriedly padding to where he lays.

“Come here.”

You oblige, arriving to his right, about to ask the matter until his fingers link with your own, bringing the back of your hand to his jaw, resting there.

If you had been warm before, an entirely new definition to sweating has been reached at this point.

“You’re warm,” He whispers, rubbing his face against your hand like a needy cat wanting attention.

How unfair a human can be this round.

Practically bounding from the inside, you use the excuse of the microwave beeping to race off, hurriedly disappearing into the kitchen while remaining ignorant to the way Minho’s gaze follows you.

Returning with a soup platter meticulously carried between your tight grip, you sigh with relief upon sitting the steaming concoction down. Oh so slowly, a frown grows at your face upon noticing the expectant stare boring into your head.

“Yes?”

He juts out his bottom lip like a kicked puppy from your nonplussed tone, nudging the covers over himself till only those calculating eyes peek out.

“I’m not feeding you.”

Minho all but whimpers, and you suppress the urge to smother him with a pillow right then and there, hating how easily he sends goosebumps prickling the back of your neck, heat scalding your ears.

“No.”

“Y/n.”

You quite literally feel like the cruelest person in existence because why is he looking at you with that face, saying your name like that.

Grumbling beneath your breath, you begrudgingly collect a spoonful, bringing the utensil to his already pursed lips.

Spoonful by spoonful do you feed him as if he’s a dependent toddler, his satisfied hums earning a stern glare in return.

Only when he finishes eating do you get up, reprimanding him on taking his meds without much bite to your words.

“And don’t take too many of these, alright? If it gets really bad, call me again. Otherwise, try getting sleep.”

“Yes ma’am.”

And of course he has to be endearing.

Such a pain.

You’ll stop by tomorrow.

If Minho was the apple cider in autumn and beach days in the summer, he’s the prettiest of snowflakes in the midst of winter.

Memorable, fleeting. Melting in your touch.

The annual Christmas party the company hosts steadily approaches, your coworkers ringing your phone insistently with noticeable anticipation.

Though just like autumns chill, December soars past idly, reigning in a new year and a new digit added to twenty when asked your age.

Your winter premise only heightened the anxiety compiling in your gut, a feeling you hadn’t recognized until the following day—the first day back to work in January—dawned.

January 1st’s introduction means you’re both officially twenty-five, and you’re not sure if it’s the fact Minho hasn’t texted you yet or the valentines pact in itself setting you on edge.

What would it be like to date Minho? Would he kiss you, the same way male leads in K-dramas did? Hold you as you sleep, wish you goodbye with a kiss to your cheek?

The mere thought sends rivets of electricity blazing your fingertips, feeling like an utter fool for imagining such scenarios.

Now you’ve haunted yourself for worse, leaving only dread in tow.

Arriving at the office the first day back, you attempt at making yourself look as collected as possible, definitely not bothered.

Worse, the root of your troubles walks in unbothered as you’ve been trying to do for the past few hours, the room working in deplorable silence before a note wedges itself behind your keyboard, Minho slipping past in its wake.

It takes all your will-power to ignore the crumpled piece of paper as best as possible, your index itching to unravel whatever lay inside.

Noon is when you finally give in, lungs failing to produce air upon reading the contents, practically choking on nothing.

Come over to my place after work.

What is this, his way of declaring your pact officially in action? What if he calls it off, saying it was only a joke glasses of wine granted?

As Hyeongmi said before, everyone has the hots for him, so why don’t you? Why does the thought of him calling it off put you on edge?

Or maybe you do. Maybe you do have feelings for—

Woah. Stop there.

Luckily, your internal chess match went unnoticed, leaving only the buzzing of your ears and the ticking of the clock loud.

A certain fondness sat between either of you from the start, since becoming acquainted you’ve instantly clicked—sly remarks and playful teasing merely one more thing keeping you alive (minus coffee).

So when something crossing the border between friends and lovers arose, a sort of nervousness bubbled in your gut.

Minho was a shoulder to cry on for you, but was it like that?

You could rely and depend on each other whenever, but could those feelings ever turn into love?

Of course they could, and they likely would’ve if it weren’t for either of you being so work-oriented—making you even more worried.

Although, you can’t simply flee. You’re an adult.

..And Minho will find you in a heartbeat if you decide to run.

Never had you been hesitant to leave office until now, and trodding one foot in front of the other causes your legs to turn into jelly.

Minho probably isn’t this nervous. He’s probably in a great mood, treating the occasion like it’s just another casual day.

Never before was it difficult, whether difficult is referred to as placing a key in a doorway or walking inside, everything seems so.. eminent.

Like when you walk through this door, an entirely new side of Minho will show face. A romantic side of Minho.

Yet, there’s no rose petals lining the hallway, nor scented candles scattered here and there.

What is there to expect with dating in your twenties anyway?

Plus, Minho’s well, Minho. If he wanted to, he likely would’ve flat-out asked already.

Something you’re surprised about, however, is the triangular string decor swooping from the ceiling, the party hats by the sink, a single birthday candle placed in the center of a cupcake. Simple, perfect.

Although, the perfect factor came with the man responsible, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, bracing himself on the countertop with a particular glow in his irises—whether it be from the lit candle you aren’t sure—that sets your stomach into a garden of butterflies.

A surprise party. He threw you a surprise birthday party.

And it’s then as enter the kitchen, brain barely recognizing each advance forward, you realize it.

You really, really want to date him.

And you really, really don’t want to screw this up.

Staring at each other, you rise up on your toes to place a careful, feather-light peck on the smooth, flushed skin of his cheek.

Slowly, he turns his head, a conniving smirk revealing the outline of his teeth whilst investigating your breathlessness.

“Someone’s daring,” He mumured, cocking a brow amusedly.

You poke his side, groaning that he shouldn’t look too far into it before he nudges you, your frown returned with a subtle nod—directed at the forgotten cupcake.

“Well you already gave me a kiss, so wish for something else.”

“Choke,” You respond, but there’s still no bite to it. Some things never change.

Minho gently holds your hair back for you, allowing you to lean over and blow out the candle. No bite.

Your wish?

Let Minho and I go well. I like us.

Every bit of it was the truth.

Hopefully this wish of yours can come true.

Maybe.

Seated on the living room floor do you finally relax, your shoulders slumping down after hours of monstrous tension. Seems you’d forgotten he was your best friend before anything else.

“So.. how does this work?”

‘Work’ as in, the dating deadline’s here, what’s next?

He purses his lips—a habit of his—blinking rapidly.

“Like friends? Except we get the kissing and sex pass in between, right?”

You smack his shoulder. He smiles, childishly extending his pinky out to you.

Linking yours, you press the pad of your thumb against his. An unspoken gesture.

“Together?”

Through thick and thin. Your way, as it always was, always had been.

He has stars in his tawny-globes for eyes.

“Together.”

Minho’s hands are warm in the midst of frigid temperatures.

Spring isn’t too far off, but the bitter winds remain ceaseless and unrelenting, whipping your hair every which way, scattering a plethora of goosebumps along your skin.

Never had you held hands like this with someone before, nonetheless Minho, and yet, a connection lies inside the initial awkwardness. The silent assurance, whether it’s his thumb smoothing your palm or occasional squeezes, telling you he understands, that you’re not alone, or how he patiently waited by the door the entire time you were getting ready, claiming he didn’t want to dirty your place with his shoes.

It’s sort of revitalizing. Curious and inquisitive in his lingering touches, additional notes—reminders on your coffee cup, questions asking whether you want to stay over afterward, if he can give you a kiss on the cheek.

One in particular you recall:

I miss you. Scribbled in bleeding ink.

Your introduction as lovers had been a field day of trials and questions for the two of you, though when it came down to the public’s knowledge, you began debating on the “curiosity killed the cat” theory.

This morning, catching a glimpse of the company’s logo in the distance, you assign yourself as the cat. Too interested, now suffering the consequences.

Granted, you wouldn’t take back moving to relationship status, but it was a lot easier to brush off comments if you were Minho.

Hyeongmi being the main one responsible for said comments.

Morning passed by seamlessly, prioritizing work above all else, too busy typing away to for any interruptions.

..Until a midday conference.

Seated right next to each other, his fingers slowly thread with yours beneath the table, sending the man a perplexed (and slightly nervous) expression in response.

More so, the comforting casualness caused you to barely recognize Mrs. Song reaching below to fetch her fallen pen, a gasp of surprise stilling the conversation at her realization.

“Are you- Are you two holding—?”

Panicked, you smack his hand away, stomach plummeting.

Not expecting him to stubbornly grab your hand again, a miniature frown draws across his perfectly rose lips.

Pouting.

Lee Minho is pouting because you’re not letting him hold your hand.

Unbelievable.

If the situation could escalate further, the she-devil herself (Hyeongmi) throws her head down to spare a glimpse, allowing you to fully accept your demise. A demise that, one way or another, needed to happen.

This was simply an early death.

“You’re kidding! No way you guys are a thing?” The eccentric girl mouths the last words, eyebrows drawn to her hairline.

And just like that, your relationship with Minho ventured out of your pocket and into a brand new wilderness.

“So…what’s it like living everybody’s dream?”

Headed to the bathroom, Hyeongmi stops you, leaned over the mirror, carefully inspecting her plum-colored lipstick.

“What?” You pique, confusedly glancing between her and the empty stall you’re trying to nonchalantly slip into.

“I mean, the entire company’s talking about it. Tell me, are you guys actually official? Or is this all just for the attention? No offense, but-“

“I...”

Want to punch you in the face.

You keep it to yourself.

“I’m gonna go.”

Synonymously, both your bladder and your appetite completely disappeared.

Although, she doesn’t leave you alone.

You’re frantically searching for excuse after excuse, speed-walking and taking the stairs any chance available.

Unfortunately for you, she’s everywhere. At some point you’re certain a tracking device is hidden somewhere on your clothes.

Almost there. From silently pleading help with your eyes to legitimately hiding in your workplace, today couldn’t have been more of a joke.

Or so you thought.

“Y/n?”

“Yes, Hyeongmi?”

“With Minho,” She nervously fiddles with her earrings. “You don’t have to tell me but.. how’s the bedroom?”

Apparently, it can go lower.

Before you can respond to her shamelessness, a grip fastens on your shoulders, cologne distinct enough you can tell exactly who it is.

Your beach day.

“Hyeongmi, you do realize that’s rude, yeah? Let’s not cross boundaries we shouldn’t cross, got it?”

All the while Minho smiles, this cloying, “I dare you” sort of attitude no one can argue with.

Averting her attention, she speedily raises up, humorlessly laughing off the tension while excusing herself from the room.

“You okay?” He whispers, breath ghosting over the shell of your ear, pressing a chaste kiss there.

Yeah, there’s no getting used to this.

“Yep,” You say, though there isn’t much sincerity it.

He knows.

“Wait for me here, let’s walk home together.”

Ah. You want to kiss him.

“Minho.”

He turns on his heel.

Kiss me.

You’re holding his collar now, the option on the tip of your tongue, his lips a hairbreadth from yours.

Close, closer.

No. Not yet.

Either way, what do you know about kissing? What if you screw up?

Not yet.

“..Okay.”

Your gaze flits down to his lips if only for a second. A small, cheeky grin adorning his face as he follows your movements.

It’s hard to focus when he leaves, because all you can think about is the possibilities. What if you had kissed him? Would he have kissed you back?

By the way looked at you, the logical response would be: yes. Most people don’t stare at someone like that without the intent to kiss them, right?

Though somehow, you can’t help but feel unprepared, a complete novice in this battlefield of love.

Where Minho took you afterward was a mystery, merely happy to be away from the confines of your desk—letting his eager hand guide you wherever he pleased.

Shielded beneath the shade of two trees, your destination, Yeouido Park, is a spectacle during the transition period of winter to spring. You’d oftentimes spend hours here, basking in the relief a break grants. A spectacle where you two first truly met.

“Alright, be honest with me.”

He spins you around till you’re face to face, carefully analyzing your facial expression.

“Are you really okay? After Hyeongmi said that, I couldn’t stop thinking..”

Oh. That careful crease in his eyebrows, sympathetic.

He’s breaking your heart.

You realize now why everyone falls in love with him.

“Of me?”

The words come out involuntarily, a step forward in the newness, paving light through the darkened abyss.

“Yeah..” He says, a little winded while doing so.

Minho cares, he always had, yet, it’s your first time hearing it aloud.

“Y/n.”

Blinking yourself back into reality, your face grows warm, not intending to deliberately space out right in front of him.

He leans forward, causing you to shrink back into your skin as a kiss is planted right atop your nose, the man wearing a satisfied grin.

“Hey- You can’t- It’s not Valentines yet—“

“And why would I wait until Valentine’s day?”

Another deeper red burns your cheeks, and you scorn the way he gets under your skin—a way that makes every insult dissolve like powder on your tongue.

He notices, but decides not to prod further, lightly bumping your hip with his own as a signal to follow.

“Tomorrow is the day, y’know,” You mumble, kicking rocks with the tip of your shoe.

“Are we gonna turn into those couples?” He asks, pretentiously puckering his lips, eyes squinted shut.

You burst out laughing.

“I would break up with you first, sorry Minho.” Said puckered lips transform into a playful scowl.

“What? No treat for valentines?”

Blinking babydoll eyes up at you, you wrinkle your nose, coming to recognize what “treat” he was implying.

Earlier you would’ve kissed instantly, but an inkling of stubbornness kept you from giving into him this time.

Sneaking behind you, he ducks down, voice low enough for only your ears to hear.

“Didn’t seem you were too against it earlier.”

And with that, he races off, entirely too happy with himself and not likely to live down your reaction. Because you can’t disagree.

Since when were Lee Minho’s lips so kissable?

Knock.

Knock.

Your attention strays from the mirror at the sound, wondering if it was simply a figment of your imagination only for the sound to ensue.

Knock. Knock.

Who would be at your door at this hour in the middle of the week?

There’s a name on your tongue, but you don’t contemplate any longer, tiptoeing to the doorway to peer through the peephole.

And the sight before you makes every ounce of suspicion worthwhile.

Minho, holding a bouquet of roses and things unknown behind his back, is reciting.

He’s staring at his shoes, bouncing back and forth on his heels nervously.

Lee Minho is nervous.

Wanting just to stand there and watch him rehearse, you finally give in after a third knock scares you out of your wits—hesitantly opening the door and trying to placate the most surprised expression possible.

His eyes round as saucers, you literally watch the gears in his head turn in real time, extending the flowers out to you.

“Happy valentines. These are uh, for you.”

And his ears are red.

You’re going to implode from how cute this is.

Attempting to stave down the alarming amount of happiness you’re experiencing, you hold the flowers in one hand, awaiting whatever lie behind his back.

Although, as the outline of a box of chocolates appears, so does… a shampoo bottle.

What.

Bathing in a long silence, you can’t help but wonder you’re genuinely hallucinating. Glancing from his face to the literal shampoo in hand, he mirrors you, confused for a reason you’re trying to figure out as well.

“Is that… a shampoo bottle?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because you were running low the last time I came here.”

…

You’ve never received a valentine before, but this automatically took the cake.

Is it possible to fall in love after you’re given a shampoo bottle as a gift on valentines? Apparently so.

Nonetheless, work flashed past, barely able to register a thing between the many congratulations you received and the absence of Hyeongmi (assumed to be due to the brown-haired charmer beside you).

For now, you savor the freedom of the day, finally able to escape the pains of before and wallow in a new kind of excitement. Love.

Love delivered by Minho himself in the form of mini scraps he’s folded into hearts, slipping heart after heart onto your desk at any opportunity to the point you bump his leg beneath the table in warning.

He cheekily smirks in return, stupidly innocent face scheming with malice.

He’s getting an absolute kick out of this, and you hate to admit you enjoy it just as much.

As usual, you wait behind for him to catch up on your daily commute home—an activity you did long before any romantic feelings became involved.

That’s it. Minho’s pinpoint of romance.

Shampoo bottle, walks home, extra coffee, notes.

Minho doesn’t openly express his love, not unless he feels either adventurous or obligated. Instead, he studies. Your habits, the things you enjoy, your actions, preferences. That particular coffee order you liked, how you had ran out of shampoo.

Oh how you love him.

Though, rounding the sidewalk to your place, Minho grabs ahold of your wrist. In response, as soon as you turn your head, you’re mere centimeters from his face, simply standing there, proximity willing either of you not to move.

Initial words dying out, he slightly edges to the side, cocked in a way that has your mind racing.

Nose, cheek, but never lips.

No.

Your hands act before any other part of you, blocking his lips from yours.

“We-“

The look he’s giving you, shock.

You feel a hundred degrees hotter.

“We need to go inside,” You excuse yourself fast, the man tailing behind, grip still loosely attached to your wrist.

Quickly shutting the door behind you, it’s an immediate embarrassment flooding your frame that allows you to speak, words bursting outward in an uncontrollable cacophony.

“Minho I’m so sorry I have no idea what I was doing, I shouldn’t have done that, it was a stupid idea. I didn’t mean to offend you or anything-“

“Hey, slow down. I’m not going anywhere.”

His tone serves as the much needed breeze fanning your face, cooling you down enough to articulate sentences properly.

“I’m sorry, we’ve just never kissed on the lips and I feel like I’m gonna be horrible and kill the mood. This is stupid, I know, just.. bear with me please?”

His eyebrows furrow, forming together the equation piece by piece.

“You’ve.. You’ve never had your first kis—?”

You hush him furiously, slumping onto the couch dejectedly.

Yet, Minho doesn’t laugh nor pick fun regardless of how hilariously idiotic the occasion is. He’s quiet, concerned almost.

You add that to your long list of things you love about him.

Inhaling gradually, your focus flits to the window, collecting yourself, easing the frantic rush-hour traffic rampaging in your skull.

If you were one of those paper hearts he made, he’s pulling apart each careful fold in this very moment. Unraveling the layers till your bare self is exposed in all its anxiousness.

“I hate it. It feels like a part of that teenage youth everyone talks about is something I’ll never get to experience. I was too busy caring about school, and now I feel like I’ve missed out.”

Soaking in a quietness, you jump when he places a hand over yours, softly tracing the skin of your knuckles, glossy as he watches, carving each perfect aspect of you into memory.

“Well you may not be seventeen, but you’re never too old to learn to kiss.”

One hand cupping your jaw to garner your attention, you’re met with a glass-like visage.

Gentle.

“And I can teach you how.”

It’s always been business, you’ve always been business. Which is why, now confronting what feels to be the highest peak in your love life, you’re left a completely blank canvas. No rules, no instructions.

It’s terrifying.

“Min- Minho, I really haven’t done this before.”

You hastily pique, scooting backward in the cushions.

Curse the shakiness of your voice.

“If you don’t want to do this, tell me. We won’t.”

You quickly shake your head.

No, you want this, you’ve wanted this too badly to back out now.

“Then let’s take it slow, okay?”

It’s horrifically awkward at first, a tiny peck, then a bit longer till your arms creep over his shoulders, his fingers once holding your jaw steady now resting on your neck.

Best word to describe it? Messy.

“Breathe through your nose.”

“Minho— I’m suffocating here��“

You sputter back, quite literally heaving for breath.

Yes, it was otherworldly kissing him, and he was an insanely good kisser, but did this really require your lungs to practically burst?

“Are you teaching me how to give a blowjob or kiss?”

His smile transforms mischievously, a sneering laugh slipping past. You already know he’ll make a sly comment.

Minho winks. “We’ll get to that later.”

“I lost my urge to date you. Bye.”

“Noooo Y/n~” He whines profusely, warm hold on your waist beckoning another kiss filled with hushed giggles and incessant jeers from either party—ensuing a halfway unbuttoned shirt and quite possibly the most greedy ten minutes known to man.

Out of breath, he pulls back from your stomach, the ticklish feather-light kisses planted there earning a stifled giggle from you while he blinks upward, seeming to be focused on something.

“Minho?” You question, ignorant to how unbelievably obsessed with you he is, more than ever in this moment.

From your damp, sweaty skin to the few hairs stuck to your forehead. Your swollen lips, the way you laugh, your stomach dipping with the action. He doubts he’ll ever get tired of this.

Reaching forward as if caught in a trance, he tenderly tucks a piece of hair behind your ear, voice barely audible upon pressing his forehead against yours.

And in the seclusion of your living room, tangled up together on the sofa, it’s just the two of you existing in this world.

“I hope you know I really meant it when I said I thought you were pretty too.”

Ah. He remembers. All that time ago.

Of course he does.

Kissing you for a time you can’t remember, you begin to wonder if that birthday wish of yours had came true after all.

Your feelings for Minho had always existed somewhere inside of you. Your head, your heart. A tiny inkling into something more, a could be. Two individuals wishing, waiting to make a move.

It seems the Valentines Pact sealed the deal.

sunboki, may 2022 ©

FIC TAGLIST. @gimmeurtmi @jisuperboard @porang-poranglinos @palindrome969 @stayceebs97 @inniescandy-01 @idklin0

[nyancrimew]

just for the record this toonimal person that you are so hellbent on defending isn't even a trans woman, they're a detransitioned afab person who says them detransitioning makes them "transfem" and is OPENLY posting about being an actual pro-contact zoophile, hosts a website for pro-contact pedophiles, and has openly admitted to molesting an animal. none of these things are "pedojacketing an innocent trans woman", you're being blatantly obtuse and ignoring the facts of the document so that you can dance around the issue to cover it up as "puritans being anti-kink". it's genuinely disappointing to see someone who is otherwise so educated on queer and kink topics suddenly jumping to the defense of actual zoo/child rapists.

you will be very delighted to find out that i have never defended this person, don't intend to defend this person, and the post i made was not about this person in any way and i have no idea who this person is beyond having skimmed a callout about them, but go ahead and feel whatever anger against me that makes you feel good