#can i just say that i am loving this show?

[solxamber]

Starstruck || Malleus Draconia

After debuting with a gothic, fantasy-inspired theme, you somehow managed to hit Malleus Draconia’s exact vibe. Now, the fae prince has single-handedly appointed himself your Number One Fan—and he's taking his job very, very seriously.

It’s finally happening. After years of grinding it out in practice rooms, singing until your voice was raw, and dancing until your legs felt like spaghetti, the moment of truth has arrived. The managers want you to decide on your debut concept.

In front of you are two choices: school theme and gothic fantasy. You glance over at the school uniform option and cringe a little inside. At your age? No, thank you.

You’re not about to spend your precious debut years waving around pom-poms and trying to look sixteen. Gothic fantasy, on the other hand? Now that’s got some style. Dark cloaks, intense lighting, elaborate costumes—it’s exactly the drama you’ve been craving.

Your manager stands beside you, flipping through a spreadsheet with an expression that can only be described as financially preoccupied.

“Listen,” he says, in a tone that suggests he’s already decided, “school theme has a mass appeal. It’s relatable. Kids these days love a little campus vibe. And you know, uniform sales have great margins…”

“I’m doing gothic fantasy,” you reply, crossing your arms with a confidence that could stop a truck.

He blinks at you. “Okay, sure, I get the allure. But are you sure? Think of the numbers, the opportunities to connect with the youth. Imagine the adorable school scenes, the casual sports day outfits, the innocent love plots…”

“Imagine the smoke machines and black roses,” you counter, eyes gleaming.

He tries another angle. “Well, just consider the feedback from market research. School themes are—"

“Gothic. Fantasy.”

He sighs deeply, muttering something that sounds suspiciously like, “These artists and their egos,” but gives in, albeit with a look of absolute resignation. “Fine. Gothic fantasy it is. But you’re taking full responsibility if it flops.”

Release day arrives, and your first single—complete with a dramatic, shadow-filled video and costumes that look like something out of a Victorian vampire drama—hits the internet. The reactions are… intense.

Sure, maybe it’s not an overnight sensation, but it’s more than enough to get people talking. Your fans? They’re not your typical “bought it for the vibes” crowd. They are deeply invested.

You’re talking about people who can recite your lyrics like a spell. You even see fan forums cropping up where people dissect the symbolism of your music videos. There’s a post dedicated to the exact shade of black eyeliner you’re wearing, and someone actually counted how many flickers each candle has in the video.

One day, as you’re scrolling through the comments, a particularly poetic fan post catches your eye: “The ethereal aura this idol has given us with their gothic artistry is like a dark gift from another realm.”

Okay, maybe the fandom is a little… intense. But you can’t help but grin.

It all starts innocently enough.

One day, Lilia’s showing Malleus some music videos he calls "classics" (pretty sure some of them are just 20 minutes of bats screeching over synthesizers, but to each their own).

But, as fate would have it, Malleus stumbles across your latest release. His eyes widen as the screen fills with your dark aesthetic, the intense melodies, the dramatic lighting, the black roses swirling around you like a misty dreamscape. He’s hooked.

The video ends, and he turns to Lilia, awestruck. “Who is this human?” he asks, as if you’re some kind of ancient artifact discovered under a full moon.

“Oh, that’s a new artist. Apparently, they’re pretty talented.” Lilia raises an eyebrow, amused by Malleus’s reaction. “Why? Fancy yourself a fan, young master?”

“A fan?” Malleus looks scandalized. “Lilia, I am enchanted.”

Malleus’s enchantment quickly turns into an obsession. He spends the next few days discovering every song, music video, interview, and even those mildly embarrassing “What’s in My Bag?” videos where you show off your essentials (you had no idea one video about your favorite scented candles could attract such intense devotion).

He watches one interview where the host asks if you’re afraid of fae, and you reply with a casual, “Nah, I’d love to visit them one day.”

This is what seals the deal for Malleus. This human is not only a talented artist but also respectful, brave, and curious about the fae world. He has found his idol.

He decides it’s time to support you. And, because he’s the literal prince of the Briar Valley, he does what any fae royalty would: he orders some of your albums.

One hundred of them, to be exact.

In Malleus’s defense, he has absolutely zero concept of money. To him, it’s normal to go big. So he clicks “order” without even thinking, and in his mind, it’s done. Simple.

A few days later, when the delivery truck pulls up with boxes upon boxes upon boxes, Malleus’s reaction is… complicated.

He stares at the delivery man, then back at the wall of albums now stacked in front of him, and mutters, “I may have made a mistake.”

But Malleus Draconia is no quitter. So he devises a new plan: he’ll distribute these albums across the Briar Valley. Anyone who even mildly expresses an interest gets an album handed to them with an enthusiasm that’s both heartwarming and slightly terrifying.

It doesn’t take long before every fae in the valley knows your name, and soon enough, your music is echoing through the mystical woods. You, a mere human, are now an icon among the fae. The legend of the human idol with the beautiful music, who’s brave enough to express curiosity about fae life, spreads like wildfire.

Meanwhile, you’re in the middle of a heated argument with your manager. Despite your loyal fanbase, your concert venues are… sparsely filled, to put it kindly.

“I don’t know how to make this any clearer,” your manager says, waving his phone around for emphasis. “We need more fans, more sold-out shows, or it’s not going to be viable to keep booking these venues!”

You’re about to respond when his phone dings. Then again. And again. Suddenly, it sounds like he’s strapped a vibrating blender to his hand. Ding, ding, ding, dingdingdingding.

“What the…?” He stares at the screen, his expression shifting from annoyance to shock. “I—it says you’ve sold out every single venue. Wait, wait—there’s a waiting list for tickets that haven’t even been put on sale yet?”

He looks at you, blinking in astonishment. “I never doubted you for a second!” he declares with all the sincerity of a used car salesman. You roll your eyes. “Sure, pal.”

Later that night, you decide to check the fan forum for yourself. And something strikes you as… odd. Suddenly, all these usernames sound like they belong to a fantasy RPG. You scroll through names like “Elder_Oak_Watcher,” “Pixie_Phenomenon,” and “Darkthorn_Dreamweaver” and can’t help but wonder if your fandom has fully committed to your fantasy vibe. You chalk it up to hardcore fans. Nothing suspicious, right?

The agency celebrates by booking more venues, announcing a new merch line, and—wait for it—a raffle event for a day with you. You’re thrilled but mostly relieved that things are finally looking up.

Cut to the Briar Valley, where Malleus gets wind of the fan meeting announcement. His eyes practically sparkle with delight.

“I have a chance to spend time with them?” he murmurs, clutching the announcement poster like it’s a sacred artifact.

“Of course, you do!” Lilia chimes in, grinning. “And if you’re really eager, I could help improve your odds.”

Silver, overhearing, asks. “Are we really doing this?”

“It’s for young master Malleus!” Sebek hisses, practically vibrating with devotion. “If he wishes to meet this human, we will ensure he wins that raffle! Even if I don’t understand why he’d—” He pauses, scowling. “—lower himself to that level for a human.”

Lilia waves a hand dismissively. “Oh, Sebek, let Malleus enjoy his hobby! It’s rare to see him so enchanted. Besides, a bit of human culture never hurt anyone!”

Silver shrugs, giving Malleus a supportive smile. “If this makes you happy, Malleus, we’ll all enter on your behalf.”

Sebek bristles. “Very well, if it is the young master’s wish, I, too, shall enter—though I don’t understand this human obsession.”

Lilia claps him on the shoulder. “Consider it a show of loyalty to the crown.”

Sebek mutters something about “weird human tastes” but agrees nonetheless. And with that, your raffle odds have just quadrupled, courtesy of the most enthusiastic and unhinged fae entourage you never knew you needed.

Malleus beams, and for once, the usual silence in Briar Valley is replaced with something very unexpected: the excited murmurs their prince getting ready for his ultimate fan meeting.

It’s your first “Unboxing Fan Mail!” livestream, and you’re bubbling with excitement as you tear through letters and packages. You’re halfway through reading a pile of cute fan letters when one catches your eye: an envelope with a hand-drawn gargoyle. This thing has personality.

“Whoa…,” you mutter as you carefully open it. Inside, you find a letter, written in such flowery, old-fashioned cursive you almost need a magnifying glass. Clearing your throat, you read a part of it aloud:

"Your craft has brought light and delight to the shadows of our realm. It is rare to encounter such reverence and elegance in a human. Know that your courage and respect have earned you an esteemed place in the hearts of those from lands beyond mortal reach. Enclosed is a token of my admiration—a rose from my homeland, blessed to be as timeless as the admiration I hold for you.

Sincerely,

M.D.”

It takes a second for the words to fully sink in. Your gaze drifts to the box sitting beside you, which you unwrap with careful fingers. Inside lies a single Briar rose—its petals dark and lush, radiating a faint magical shimmer that tells you this is no ordinary gift. The rose feels alive, pulsing softly with ancient magic. You gently lift it, brushing a fingertip along the petal’s edge, feeling the cool, unyielding softness.

And suddenly, you feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “Oh… wow,” you manage, voice wavering. You blink back tears but don’t quite succeed, pressing a hand to your mouth in a mix of joy and disbelief. “Thank you so much, M.D. This is… this is beautiful. I don’t even have words.”

Back in the Briar Valley, Malleus is watching the livestream playback with his usual calm demeanor… until he sees you crying. His face falls, and he looks at Lilia, horrified. “Did I… upset them? My letter was meant to honor them, not… bring tears.” He’s practically pale. Well, paler than usual.

“Oh, don’t fret,” Lilia chimes in with a laugh, patting Malleus on the shoulder. “They’re just happy! Look how much they loved it. You brought them pure joy!”

Malleus blinks. “So… I have not offended them?”

“Far from it! In fact,” Lilia says with a knowing smirk, “I think you’re officially their number one fan.”

Malleus’s eyes narrow with sudden, unshakeable determination. “Of course, I am,” he says, as if this is the most obvious truth in the world. “Who else could claim that title?”

You have no idea what you've gotten into.

It’s your first concert. The crowd is buzzing, their voices creating a low hum that vibrates through the walls, yet you’re backstage with a knot in your stomach that feels about the size of a boulder.

You shift from foot to foot, hands clammy as you grip the mic, wondering if this is actually a good idea or if you should just make a break for it now and head for the hills.

A voice echoes through the earpiece: “Three minutes, everyone!”

You take a deep breath, steadying yourself as the band gives you encouraging nods. All those years of training, of dreaming, of rehearsing until your feet felt like they’d fall off—this is what it was for.

Your fans are out there, waiting. You can already hear some of them chanting your name. And slowly, your nerves start to melt away, replaced by a surge of adrenaline.

The lights dim. You step onto the stage, heart pounding, and the audience erupts. Thousands of people, waving lights and singing the opening notes of your debut song back to you.

The energy washes over you, filling every corner of your soul, and suddenly there’s no room left for doubt.

The music pours out of you, and the crowd’s response is instant, electric. They're clapping, cheering, and singing along. You almost forget to breathe as you realize—they know every word.

It’s in the middle of your second song, during a moment where the lights are shining right on the front row, that you spot something peculiar.

Wait… Are those… fae?

Not just one, but three of them. And they’re not your typical, “blending in” kind of fans, either. One of them—the tall one with the horns—looks like he’s just stepped out of some mythical kingdom (which, granted, he kind of has). There’s an unmissable aura around him, and his eyes are fixed on you like you’re the most mesmerizing sight he’s ever seen.

The other two fae are close by, each one unique but unmistakably not human. And a very sleepy human is nodding off standing there.

You try to keep performing, but your heart’s pounding for a new reason now. The tall fae—he’s so intense. There’s something captivating, almost otherworldly, in the way he’s watching you, like he’s fully captured by your music. It’s a bit like he belongs here and also… really doesn’t. Yet somehow, he makes it work.

Finally, you reach the interaction part of the concert, the moment where you get to pick a “lucky fan” from the crowd for a backstage pass at your next show. Your mind goes blank for a second as you look over the crowd, but the sight of those fae at the front makes your decision easy. You raise a hand, pointing directly at the tall one, still staring at you with that intense look in his eyes.

You can feel the collective shock from the crowd as you exclaim, “You! Yes, at the front! You’re the lucky winner!”

The tall fae’s eyes widen ever so slightly, a look of pure delight crossing his face as his friends react with either shock or something bordering on exasperation. He steps forward a bit, visibly thrilled, and nods to you as if he’s just received the highest honor imaginable.

Lilia, standing beside Malleus, gives a knowing chuckle. “My, my, our prince has been blessed by fortune,” he teases.

Sebek, looking utterly scandalized, hisses, “The Young Master? At a human’s concert again? With a… backstage pass?” His voice drips with disbelief.

Silver, with a half-smile, murmurs, “Well, he does look happy. That’s what matters, right?”

And Malleus, basking in the moment, seems too happy to notice their reactions. He meets your gaze, nodding as if to say, Yes, it is I, your devoted fan.

And suddenly, you’re beaming, too, because in this moment, you realize—you’re not just performing for humans. You’ve captured the attention of beings beyond the mortal world, and something about that feels… magical.

It’s the day of your next concert, and you’re backstage, mentally preparing yourself. You’d think after the first show, the nerves would be easier to handle, but that flutter of excitement is still there. Just as you’re rehearsing a few last lines, your manager bursts in, a mix of terror and wild enthusiasm lighting up his face.

“You… you’ve got to see this,” he stammers, pulling you toward the edge of the curtain.

“Uh, okay?” You’re confused, but you follow him to peek out onto the crowd.

What you see is not what you expected.

The venue is packed. And not just with your usual audience—no, tonight, the crowd is full of fae. Like, really full of fae. A sprinkle of beastmen, a handful of humans (who look varying levels of petrified), but the overwhelming majority? Fae of every type.

You spot wings, horns, a few floating orbs of light that might just be small fae spirits, and an array of gleaming, wide eyes that are laser-focused on the stage.

In the front row, you catch sight of a familiar face. The tall fae with horns who won your backstage pass last time—he’s here, and still utterly entranced. On impulse, you give a little wave, feeling a bit silly, but somehow unable to resist.

To your surprise, he just stands there, looking stunned, until the black-haired fae next to him nudges him with an elbow. Then, almost shyly, he lifts his hand and waves back.

From Malleus’s perspective, everything is perfect. His people have fallen under your spell just as he has. Watching you emerge to greet the crowd, he’s already enraptured.

You look out into the audience, and then—to his amazement—you look right at him and wave. He freezes, utterly smitten, until Lilia nudges him. After a second, he waves back, his heart doing something he’s quite sure it’s never done before.

The concert begins, and it’s an experience beyond anything you’ve known. The fae audience is surprisingly intense—they’re quiet during the softer moments, like they’re absorbing every note, and then wildly enthusiastic during the high-energy parts.

For a second, you wonder if your music has some kind of magic in it, too. Their reaction fuels your own performance, until the final note echoes out and the crowd erupts in applause.

Then comes the moment of truth: the backstage pass winner’s meet and greet.

You’re resting in the designated room, savoring a post-concert cookie when you hear… raised voices?

“Only the winner is allowed in!” your security guard insists, sounding exasperated.

“And I’m telling you,” someone snaps back, “I won’t allow my master to go in alone to meet a human!”

Curious, you step out to find the same quartet from the front row having a tense standoff with security. The tall one—the same one who keeps catching your eye—looks as serene as ever, while his silver-haired friend seems half-asleep despite the commotion. You raise a hand. “It’s okay! Let them all in.”

The guard reluctantly steps aside, and the four file into the room. There’s an awkward pause as they stare at you, clearly debating who should introduce themselves first. The tall one steps forward, and you offer a small smile.

“So… we finally meet. What’s your name?”

“Malleus,” he says, his voice deep and slightly reverent. “Malleus Draconia.”

You’re about to respond when he holds out a hand—a hesitant, almost formal gesture. Before you can shake it, the green-haired fae scowls, clearly offended. “That’s His Highness to you, Don't causally touch him human!”

You freeze mid-motion. Highness? Fae Royalty?

“Yes,” Malleus says mildly, “though I’d rather you not call me that right now, Sebek. This is a personal occasion.”

“Oh, you’re… royalty.” You take a very controlled breath, willing yourself not to faint.

Malleus nods, completely unfazed, though Lilia snickers under his breath and gives you a little wave. “I apologize if that was not clear before. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

You regain your composure. You're a professional. “Right, royalty. Got it. No big deal.” (It’s a huge deal, but you can scream into your pillow later.)

That's when it clicks. M.D, Malleus Draconia, Fae Prince.

In an attempt to break the tension(and to not spiral), you say, “By the way, I loved the little gargoyle you drew on the letter you sent me. It was cute.”

Malleus blinks, visibly taken aback. “You… liked the gargoyle?”

You nod, smiling. “They’re nice to look at.”

For a second, Malleus just stares, and it feels like his entire face is starting to glow. “You appreciate gargoyles?” he says, in a tone that sounds like you’ve just admitted you’re secretly royalty, too.

“Uh, yeah. They’re kinda cool.” You laugh, and Malleus looks like he’s been blessed by every possible deity.

Meanwhile, Sebek mutters something vaguely exasperated, and you catch a snippet: “This human has actually caught the his interest…”

Lilia laughs, giving Malleus a playful nudge. “Well, isn’t that something? I guess you truly are their number one fan, Malleus.”

Malleus nods seriously. “Of course. I am honored to be recognized as such.” His eyes gleam with utter sincerity.

You chat a bit more, exchanging small talk, until you mention offhandedly that your company has been discussing hosting a concert near Briar Valley due to the recent increase in fae fans. Malleus immediately perks up.

“Oh, well, you should simply perform in Briar Valley,” he says, as if offering his personal venue is as easy as lending a pen.

“Wait… seriously?” You look at him, not sure if he’s joking.

“Of course,” Malleus replies earnestly. “I would be delighted to arrange it. As the prince… and your number one fan.” His eyes are so bright and genuine, you can’t help but laugh.

“All right, I’d love that,” you say, heartily amused and impossibly charmed.

As they start to leave, an idea pops into your head. “Hey, Malleus, do you want a picture together?”

He blinks, clearly surprised. “A picture? I… would be honored.”

You take out your phone, getting into position, and then, on a whim, you lean over and kiss him on the cheek right as you snap the photo.

From the doorway, Sebek lets out a scandalized squawk, and your manager looks like he’s about to pass out. But Malleus? He’s wide-eyed, staring at you like you’ve granted him the greatest gift in existence.

With a wink, you murmur, “Consider it a special gift for my biggest fan.”

For a second, Malleus just stands there, wide-eyed, and then, slowly, a delighted, utterly smitten smile spreads across his face.

The concert in Briar Valley turns out to be way more fun than you could’ve ever imagined. You were nervous at first—after all, you’re literally performing in a hidden fae realm with the kind of audience that probably doesn’t even need speakers to hear you.

But once you get started, the vibe is incredible. The fae are enthusiastic, cheering and applauding in that slightly mystical way they have. Their clapping sounds like wind chimes, and every so often, you think you see little trails of magic light in the crowd.

And right in the front row, like always, is Malleus Draconia. He’s the picture of regal elegance, standing out in his official Briar Valley attire, looking like he’s attending some kind of royal ceremony. You’d almost laugh at the contrast—Malleus, dignified and regal, surrounded by a crowd absolutely hyped for a pop concert. And, because you can’t resist, you give him a cheeky wink mid-song.

Malleus doesn’t miss a beat; he looks like he’s been struck by some sort of enchantment himself. His cheeks faintly color, but he doesn’t look away, a faint, dazed smile on his face. He’s living his best fanboy life, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy every second of his reaction.

After the concert ends, Malleus insists on personally escorting you around Briar Valley. You’re beyond thrilled—after all, it’s not every day that a fae prince offers to give you a tour of his homeland. Sebek and Silver, ever loyal, trail behind, with Sebek grumbling under his breath every five seconds about “proper decorum” and “human interactions.”

Meanwhile, Lilia is there for the pure entertainment of it all, throwing you little mischievous grins whenever you glance back at him.

As you’re strolling down a cobblestone path lined with Briar roses, you feel the first drop of rain on your cheek. “Oh no, I didn’t bring an umbrella…”

But the second you say it, there’s a flurry of movement. Malleus, Sebek, Silver, and Lilia all open umbrellas in perfect unison, like some kind of magical boy band choreography. Sebek even has an extra umbrella on standby, which he’s holding out to you with a solemn look.

But before you can notice it, Malleus shoots him a look that could probably summon a thunderstorm, and Sebek reluctantly withdraws, muttering darkly under his breath about “Etiquette.”

Meanwhile, Lilia, never one to miss an opportunity, flings the extra umbrella into a bush with a casual flick of his wrist before you can even notice.

He turns to Silver and Sebek with a bright grin, “Come now, let’s give the two some space! Isn’t it so romantic?” Sebek looks horrified, about to argue, but Lilia’s already dragging him and Silver away, leaving you alone with Malleus.

So now it’s just the two of you, standing in the rain, with Malleus holding his large, intricately decorated umbrella over both of you. The umbrella’s big enough that it shields you from the rain easily, but that doesn’t stop Malleus from stepping a little closer, just to be sure.

There’s an awkward, giddy silence as you continue to walk side by side. You can feel the warmth radiating from him, and your hands brush against each other occasionally. Finally, he clears his throat and says, “Did you enjoy the concert? Briar Valley’s… first, of this sort.”

“Oh, definitely!” you say, grinning. “It was amazing to see so many fae enjoying the music. And you were right up front! You didn’t have to—”

“It was… my pleasure,” Malleus replies, his deep voice a little softer than usual. “I wanted to see everything as closely as possible.” There’s an endearing awkwardness to him that only makes him more captivating.

From the moment you met him, you thought Malleus was just a really dedicated fan—sweet, if a bit intense, but ultimately adorable. Sure, he’s got that tall, dark, and slightly terrifying vibe with the horns and the whole royal aura, but he’s also so polite and gentle that you can’t help but find it cute.

But now, as you walk under the same umbrella, his warmth just inches away, it hits you with sudden clarity. Oh, I am so, so screwed.

Because you might like him a little bit. Scratch that—a lot a bit.

Malleus glances at you, noticing the sudden shift in your expression. “Is something amiss?” His voice is gentle, genuinely concerned.

“Oh! No, I’m fine. Just, uh, a little tired from the show,” you say quickly, brushing it off.

Malleus doesn’t look entirely convinced but accepts your answer with a soft nod. Then, almost shyly, he extends his hand. “Here. It’s quite cold… if you’d like…”

You stare down at his offered hand, feeling your pulse jump. It’s such a small, polite gesture, but it sends your heart racing. You slip your hand into his, feeling his warmth seep into your skin, and a small smile tugs at your lips.

As you walk together under the umbrella, Lilia, peeking from behind a corner with a very exasperated Sebek in tow, smirks to himself. "Ah, young love," he sighs dramatically, as if he were watching a play unfold.

Back under the umbrella, Malleus is telling you about the history of Briar Valley, his voice gentle and filled with pride. You don’t catch half of it because you’re too focused on the way he looks down at you, his eyes soft and completely captivated. Every so often, he leans in a little closer, as if he can’t help himself.

Eventually, you reach the end of the walk, the rain easing off, and Malleus turns to you, looking slightly hesitant. “I hope this evening has been enjoyable for you… I wished for you to see the beauty of Briar Valley, but I… I fear I may have monopolized your time.”

You laugh softly. “Oh, trust me, I think you’re doing a great job of showing me around. Plus,” you add, “it’s not so bad sharing an umbrella with my biggest fan.”

Malleus’s expression lights up, a rare, breathtaking smile breaking across his face. “Yes,” he agrees softly, almost to himself. “Your… biggest fan.”

Before they leave, you impulsively pull out your phone. “Hey, Malleus, would you like to take another picture together? You know, as a memory of Briar Valley?”

Malleus’s eyes widen slightly, but he nods. “I would… like that very much.”

You pose, holding up your phone, and just as you snap the picture, he looks at you with a strange spark in his eyes, he leans over, just barely hesitating, and presses a gentle kiss to your cheek.

Now you’re the one who freezes, absolutely flustered but trying very hard to play it off. You clear your throat, laugh a little too brightly, and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear as if it’s no big deal. “W-Well, um, I guess we’re even now!” you stammer, hoping he doesn’t notice the warmth creeping up your face.

Malleus gives you a small, satisfied smile, clearly pleased with your reaction, while Sebek is beside himself, practically vibrating at a frequency that could power one of your concerts, as he splutters, “YOUNG MASTER, THIS IS—YOU CAN’T JUST—A HUMAN—”

But Lilia just laughs, giving Sebek a playful whack on the back. “Come now, Sebek, it’s all in good fun!"

Sebek looks torn between yelling and fainting, muttering to himself about propriety and why, oh why, would the young master be so entranced by a human?!

You just barely manage to keep it together until they leave, but the second you’re alone, you collapse onto the nearest couch, burying your face in a pillow with a ridiculous grin plastered across your face. Because Malleus Draconia, fae prince and possibly the most loyal fan you’ve ever met, just kissed you on the cheek.

Somehow, you know this is just the beginning.

The fan forum has always been your little comfort zone. You’ve got your dedicated fans, who post lovingly questionable fan art, some surprisingly deep theories about your lyrics, and even the occasional meme thread.

Today, though, you’ve decided to go on a bit of a lurking spree. You want to see what people really think—especially the critics. And you do find critics, of course, all happily airing out their grievances. But what you didn’t expect is the replies.

Each negative comment has an oddly formal, razor-sharp response that’s practically dripping with eloquent disdain, all signed "M.D." You read on, completely baffled until it dawns on you: this is Malleus.

This prince has taken it upon himself to haunt your comment section, like a very sophisticated, slightly unhinged ghost. You try to keep from snickering too loudly as you scroll through his hilarious, painfully dignified rebuttals.

I-like-snails: “I don’t understand the hype. This idol is all looks, no talent.”

M.D.: “Your failure to comprehend excellence in its truest form is unfortunate. To imply that this individual relies solely on appearance demonstrates an astonishing lack of insight. Consider expanding your understanding of ‘talent.’ Signed, M.D.”

real-idol-fan: “I’ve seen cooler concepts than this ‘gothic fantasy’ nonsense. So pretentious.”

M.D.: “Ah, but what is more pretentious, dear critic? To appreciate grandeur or to boast of one’s ‘cool’ concepts with all the subtlety of a loud footstep in the night? Gothic fantasy, as you call it, possesses a depth your mind has yet to comprehend. Signed, M.D.”

aura-aura: “This idol’s lyrics don’t even make sense. They’re just trying to sound deep.”

M.D.: “An intellect as shallow as a millpond would indeed struggle to navigate profound lyrical waters. I urge you to revisit the lyrics in question after reading a book or two on metaphor. Signed, M.D.”

You have to clutch your sides as you scroll through the thread. The idea of Malleus, a literal prince, defending you with words like “millpond intellect” and signing every single comment with his initials—it’s ridiculous.

Ridiculous and, at the same time, ridiculously touching. You’d never asked him to do this, never even thought he’d care about what random people thought of you, but here he is, waging a dignified, solo war in the fan forum trenches.

After several minutes, you take a deep breath and manage to calm down, even though you know you’re never going to look at your fan forum the same way again.

It's interview time and things are going smoothly. You’re answering questions about your latest song, about the creative process behind the music videos. All very normal stuff—until the interviewer grins, pulls out a picture, and holds it up for you to see.

You squint and realize, with dawning horror, that it’s the photo. The one of you and Malleus standing close under the same umbrella, him looking at you like you hung the stars and you, very clearly, smiling back at him. Whoever took it managed to capture a moment that looks... well, almost romantic.

"So," the interviewer says, leaning in with a gleam in their eye, "is this someone special?"

You’re ready to laugh it off, to dismiss it casually with a polite “no,” but... you freeze. Looking at that photo, at the way Malleus is watching you, something catches in your throat. “No, of course not” dies on your lips.

Your mind rewinds to all the times he’s shown up, how he’s silently supported you, those comments on the forum—and suddenly, you can’t deny it, not even to yourself.

“No comment,” you manage to say, but it sounds weak, even to you.

The interviewer’s brow arches, and they chuckle knowingly. Meanwhile, you’re scrambling internally. Oh no. Oh no, you’re in trouble. You’re in deep trouble.

The raffle winner is announced, and your mouth drops open when you hear the name. “Malleus Draconia!” Your eyes scan the crowd and—yep, there he is, beaming in a way that could light up an entire stadium, looking like he’s won the lottery.

Well, technically, he has, but there’s something about his expression that suggests this is the best moment of his life. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you feel the universe smirking, because it knows exactly what it’s doing by sending you this unattainable, royally handsome fae prince.

You’d had some time to think since that interview. The photo, the “no comment,” the dawning horror in your gut as you realized that yes, you’re down bad. Horrifically so. In the week since the interview, you’d come to accept it. The only issue? He's so out of your league, it’s practically laughable.

Meanwhile, Malleus is practically vibrating with excitement. As soon as his name was drawn, half of his kingdom exploded in celebratory fanfare. (To be fair, most of the Briar Valley population had entered the raffle in his name. “Statistical advantage,” Lilia had called it.)

By the time he gets home, he’s already lining up outfits, preparing what he calls “appropriate tokens of affection.”

“Perhaps... a small gargoyle?” he muses, clutching a miniature stone sculpture that weighs about as much as a small human child.

Silver clears his throat. “Maybe... consider something less... heavy?”

Undeterred, Malleus sighs but places the gargoyle back, moving on to his backup plan: a solid gold gargoyle instead.

Lilia, in the background, chimes in with, “Just give them a rock and say it’s a Briar Valley special!” Malleus ignores him.

The day arrives, and you’re waiting at a cafe for Malleus. The producers are buzzing around, setting up lights and cameras for some wholesome footage to share with your fans. You’re running through the usual script in your mind, but then Malleus walks in, looking... well, looking like Malleus. Tall, regal, glowing with excitement, and completely out of place in the modern cafe.

You’re trying to keep your cool, reminding yourself that he’s just a fan here to meet his favorite idol, but when he brushes his hand against yours as he takes his seat, you’re thrown into chaos. Wide-eyed, flustered chaos. In fact, you’re so visibly affected that one of the producers has to muffle a squeal.

You glance at Malleus, and for a second, it’s like the two of you are in your own little world, oblivious to the cameras. You’re laughing, he’s smiling in that polite but endlessly fascinated way, and it feels like the meet-cute scene in every cheesy K-drama ever made.

After the cafe, the producers decide to set up at a bowling alley. It’s cute, casual, and definitely low-stakes—or so you think. You explain the game rules to Malleus, who nods in solemn understanding. Then, you hand him a bowling ball and stand back, figuring he’ll get the hang of it soon enough.

Except... Malleus does not get the hang of it.

He lifts the ball with such enthusiasm and raw power that when he bowls, it lands with a thunderous bang. The ball rockets down the lane like it’s been launched out of a medieval trebuchet, shattering the pins with explosive force and completely obliterating the machinery behind them.

The bowling alley is plunged into silence. Even the producers are speechless.

You, however, are not. You burst out laughing so hard, tears actually stream down your cheeks, and you double over, clutching your stomach. Malleus, meanwhile, looks at the wreckage he’s caused with a sheepish expression and asks, “Did I... do it wrong?”

You’re still laughing too hard to answer. His expression is priceless—equal parts apologetic and baffled. For all the confusion on his face, he’s smiling too, in that warm, captivated way, like every sound of your laughter is worth all the destroyed bowling alleys in the world.

One of the crew members has to remind you both to stop standing in the wreckage.

After the... eventful bowling alley scene, you suggest something calmer, like feeding ducks at the park. You arrive with a bag of crumbs, ready for a relaxed, picturesque afternoon.

Malleus seems thrilled at the prospect of feeding these “quaint little birds.” He declares “I will bestow upon them many crumbs.”

But, as it turns out, ducks seem to be as unnaturally drawn to Malleus as your fanbase is to you.

The ducks start waddling toward you, sure, but when Malleus bends down to offer a handful of crumbs, they completely mob him. You watch in bewildered amusement as the ducks clamber onto him, flapping and honking, climbing his shoulders, even perching on his head like he’s the world’s fanciest scarecrow.

“I... seem to be... a duck magnet,” he murmurs, looking helplessly at you, as if apologizing for attracting every duck within a ten-mile radius. He’s totally overwhelmed, but also somehow completely fine with it. If you find this amusing, then it’s a noble cause in his mind.

They hop onto his lap, perch on his shoulders, and one brave little duck even nestles itself on his head, honking proudly as it looks down at him.

You’re giggling again, snapping photos with your phone as he stands there, a bemused fae prince turned accidental duck king. Malleus, standing there covered in feathery chaos, looks up at you, his expression softening at the sight of your laughter. You think you see the smile on his lips, and you’re certain this day can’t get any better.

Dinner with Malleus feels like the culmination of every daydream you’ve ever had and every moment you tried to ignore the thrill he gives you. The restaurant is all soft lighting and quiet music, and you’re seated across from him, barely able to touch your food because you’re too busy trying not to stare. Or at least, not to make it obvious you’re staring.

But it’s impossible not to. Malleus, in the soft glow of the candles, looks ethereal in a way that’s borderline unfair. He’s taken off his usual high-collared cloak, and he’s looking at you with an openness that feels both heart-wrenching and unbelievably warm. His eyes hold that steady, unwavering gaze that has you feeling more exposed than any stage spotlight.

You’re talking about something light—music, maybe, or the utterly ridiculous game of bowling earlier. But the words are just filler, a flimsy attempt to distract yourself from the absolute burning feeling in your chest, a feeling you’re starting to realize is a little too big to be brushed aside.

It’s love.

It’s as terrifying as it is exhilarating. You’re looking at him, and it’s all you can do to not reach across the table, grab his hand, and say something incredibly unhinged like, “Hi, you don’t know it yet, but we’re soulmates.”

He leans in, head tilted as he listens to you with that pure, undivided attention. And then, his lips quirk into a faint smile, and you’re done for. Absolutely, completely done for.

Dinner wraps up, and he offers you his arm as you both leave the restaurant and step into the cool night. You take it, fingers curling around his elbow, and feel the warmth of him through the fabric.

The street is quiet, and the moon is hanging low, casting an almost dreamlike glow over everything. And you—well, you’re looking at him like he’s the moon itself, like he’s the only thing worth looking at in the whole universe.

You’re walking slowly, so slowly it feels like the moment is stretching forever, but somehow that’s not enough. You can’t stand it; you can’t stand just holding his arm and pretending this feeling isn’t eating you alive. So, finally, you stop, turn to him, and without even a thought to what this might mean for your career or the scandal it could stir, you say, “Malleus?”

He looks down at you, eyes soft, waiting.

And you just… go for it. You lean up, heart pounding so hard it’s a miracle he can’t hear it, and kiss him.

The world stands still. For a second, you wonder if you’ve overstepped, if maybe he’s going to pull away or question you or—

But then he’s kissing you back. Immediately. Thoroughly. His hand rises to cup your cheek, and he leans in with a gentleness that completely undoes you. You feel the warmth of him, the tenderness in his touch, and it’s enough to make your knees weak.

When you finally pull away, breathless, you look up to find him watching you with an expression that’s somewhere between wonder and the same sort of ache you’re feeling.

And right now, the only thing that makes sense is to kiss him again.

So you do.

This time, it’s softer, slower, like you’re both savoring it, letting the world fall away until it’s just you and him in the middle of the quiet, moonlit street.

When you finally pull back again, there’s a lingering silence. You don’t know what to say. How do you explain to someone that you’re completely undone by them? That you’re staring at him and barely restraining yourself from saying things like, “Let’s make matching T-shirts,” and “You’re my favorite human being, even if you’re technically not human.”

He’s still gazing at you, lips curved in that barely-there smile, looking utterly unphased yet somehow entirely aware of the fact that you’re melting. He’s looking at you like you’re something delicate, something precious, and it’s honestly making you want to pull him down and kiss him senseless all over again.

But instead, you just laugh, quiet and breathless. He raises a brow, a faint smirk playing at his lips. “Are you laughing at me?” he asks, in a tone that’s half curious, half amused.

“No,” you say, “I’m just… realizing something.”

“And what’s that?”

You look at him, eyes shining, and feel that burning again, that truth too big to ignore. “I’m completely in love with you.”

He doesn’t look shocked; instead, he just leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. And in that moment, you feel it again—the absolute certainty that you’re screwed. Because here’s a man who looks at you like you’re his whole world, and now that you’ve had a taste of this—of him—there’s no going back.

Masterlist

[heavyhitterheaux]

Bodyguard (NSFW)

"Honey, honey, I could be your bodyguard."

Synopsis: You and Joe elope after being engaged for only 24 hours. The goal was to tell everyone when the two of you were ready, but it doesn't exactly work out the way that the two of you intended.

Pairing: Fiancé!Joe Burrow x Fiancée!Reader

Requested by: a gorgeous anon 😘💕

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

Do Not Engage If UNDERAGE

Your head was laying on Joe's chest as his arms were wrapped around you in a tight embrace. It didn't take long for you to fall asleep after the two of you had gotten back home from dinner where Joe had proposed to you in front of your closest family and friends.

He had been planning this for a while and wanted to keep it simple, just how he knew that you would like it. You weren't one for dealing with the spotlight and didn't like a lot of attention on you, the same way he was.

Grabbing his phone, he quickly unlocked it with his passcode that happened to be your birthday and saw that the time was around two in the morning. Putting his phone back down, he saw you pop one eye open to look at him and he quickly leaned down to kiss your forehead.

“Being a creep now are we?” He asked you as you laughed at him and sat up letting the comforter and sheet fall away from your naked body due to the activities that took place before you had drifted off.

“What? I can't look at my handsome fiancé whom I love so much?” You asked as you pinched his cheek.

“Of course you can and I am never going to get tired of hearing you say that.” Joe responded while playing with the engagement ring that he had slid on your finger just hours before.

It took him almost an entire six months to get the design of the ring up to his standards and made sure that it was a design that you would approve of too. It was funny when he thought about it because in order to get your opinion, he would show you different designs and ask what you thought. However, you really truly didn't think anything of it because Ja'Marr had also been planning to propose to his long time girlfriend and you assumed it was Joe asking you for him.

You looked at him as he did it and knew for a fact that the wheels in his head were turning.

“Joey, what's the matter?”

Once he heard your voice, he looked up at you and continued to play with your ring before he answered you.

“Would it be crazy for me to say that I want us to be married already?”

“No, not at all. I can't wait for the day that my last name changes officially. We have to start planning. Big wedding or small wedding?”

“What if you didn't have to wait? What if we made it a reality and you became my wife in the next twenty four hours?”

Straddling him, your eyes suddenly went wide as your arms wrapped his neck and stared at him, not really knowing what to say.

“Um, Joey….”

“We can hop on a plane in the next few hours and make it happen. Make it a little getaway that leads into our honeymoon.”

“So, you want to elope?” You asked again, making sure you were hearing him right.

“For my short answer, yes. I don't want to wait any longer. I've been holding onto your ring for a while and it literally took me six months to design it because I know how picky your ass is.”

“Our parents are going to be mad as hell about that. And you love me all the same, including my pickiness.”

You could just hear your parents now throwing a fit about you and Joe not saying anything to them.

And your siblings

And your friends

But deep down when you thought about it, why should you even care? You were getting married to the person in front of you and as far as you were concerned, his opinion was the only one that mattered.

“And? They'll get over it and we can always do something here once we get back. I want you all to myself and one way or another, I always get what I want. And I do love your pickiness even if it gets on my nerves sometimes.” He whispered against your lips before kissing you.

“And we don't have to tell anyone either until we want to.” He added before kissing you again.

“But what about Destinee? She was going to be my maid of honor.”

Joe couldn't help but to roll his eyes.

“Especially not her! Baby, I am in no way, shape, or form telling you what to do but I literally HATE her and she's not a good friend to you.”

“Joey! Hate is a strong word!”

“I know and I'll repeat myself. I HATE her. Since we're talking about her, you know she tried to come onto me tonight? AFTER I PROPOSED with her witnessing the entire thing! Only reason why I invited her is because you like her. Because left up to me, her ass can choke. Your parents don't like her either!”

You crossed your arms and looked at him dumbfounded.

“She wouldn't do that, babe.”

“Oh, but she did. Ja'Marr wasn't paying her any attention but I don't know why she got the bright ass idea of coming over to talk to me. Why does your best friend think she can pull a move on me with her funky ass breath? Besides I am CLEARLY spoken for.”

“JOSEPH!”

“I had to interrupt her to give her a piece of gum because her breath was hot enough to burn off my eyebrows. I'm surprised I still have any to be honest.”

Failing miserably, a laugh escaped your mouth as you shook your head at him.

“I'll ask her about it and you probably interpreted that wrong.”

“Make sure you have a piece of gum on standby, can't have my future wife dying and leaving me. Cause of death, stinky breath by her so-called best friend. You probably won't even need for me to bury you because her breath by itself will probably cremate you.”

“I literally CANNOT with you.” You told him as you shook your head and began laughing all over again.

“Yes you can and you better get used to it since you said yes to marrying me. No take backs.”

“Wouldn't dare think of doing that in a million years. Now where are we going to do this? Vegas?” You asked but turned up your nose at the same time.

“No. Definitely not. That's where everyone goes. I want us to be different. We can always go somewhere that we can also have our honeymoon.”

“I like that idea. I want beaches and sand. Somewhere warm.”

“Hmm…. So I can fuck you on the beach? Good idea.” He whispered in your ear as he placed a kiss directly underneath it.

“Yes, but I was literally not even thinking that.”

“Shit, I was and I have no problem admitting it.” Joe told you as he shrugged.

“I noticed with your little nasty ass.” You teased and he sent a small smirk in your direction.

“You weren't complaining about it a few hours ago when you were riding my face.”

“I… touché and I got it! Barbados! That's where we can go.” You excitedly told him and it looked as if he was thinking it over, but quickly agreed with you.

“Okay, Barbados it is. I'll get everything together and you go to sleep.” Joe told you as he kissed both of your cheeks and your nose before placing one on your lips.

“But..”

“I got it handled, my future wife needs to go to sleep. I'll wake you up when we need to get ready to head to the airport.” Joe told you as you nodded and laid back down on his chest.

He quickly wrapped his arm around you before using his other hand on his phone to look for a hotel for the two of you to stay at while also planning to make a few calls to get the two of you on a private jet. He finally decided to rent a vacation house so the two of you would have more space.

He was more than halfway done when you did a sudden movement and his eyes immediately looked down at you to make sure that you were okay and you were once again looking at him.

“Baby girl, I thought I told you to go to sleep?”

“Yes, you did but for some reason I keep waking up.” You whined as you shifted to make yourself more comfortable.

“Hmm, you need me to help you out with that?” Joe asked as he set his phone down in order to give you his full attention.

Looking back up at him with a smirk, you quickly nodded knowing what his version of helping you meant.

“But you need to use your words to tell me exactly what you want.” He told you as he flipped the two of you over and you were now underneath him.

“But you already know what I want.” You breathed out as he began to nip at your neck and moved further down.

“Say it or I'm not going to do anything and make you get to sleep on your own. Now I'm going to ask you one more time. What does my fiancée want me to do to her?”

“She wants you to put her to sleep.”

“By doing what?”

You didn't give him an answer before you felt him move down further and spread your legs apart while running his fingers across your folds, teasing you.

“By doing something like this? Or hold on, maybe you meant this?” He asked and you quickly felt his tongue make contact with your core as you let out a gasp.

“Yesss.”

“Hmm, yes what?” He asked you once more as you felt his tongue once more on you.

“My fiancé is teasing me and I don’t like that at all.”

“Then my fiancée needs to use her words and tell me what she wants.”

“I want your face between my thighs.”

“Good girl, now see, was that so hard for us to do?” Joe was trying to get an answer out of you as he made himself comfortable in between your thighs just like you asked him and began to play with your folds quickly slipping two fingers inside you making your breath hitch in your throat.

Joe didn't bother waiting for an answer and immediately began to pleasure you with his tongue paying special attention to your clit as he increased the pace of his fingers.

“Shiiiit, keep going.” Was all you could let out as the grip that Joe had on your legs became tighter making sure that there was no possible way for you to move away from him and at this rate, that was the last thing that you wanted.

One of your hands quickly found its way to Joe's hair as you were ultimately trying to pull him even closer even if by now it was damn near impossible.

You riding his face earlier wasn't nearly enough for you to be satisfied and the way your body was responding quickly let him know. As soon as the two of you had gotten into the car from leaving dinner earlier, you had been teasing each other during the entire ride home and barely made it inside before clothes were being ripped off from each others bodies.

Inserting a third finger, Joe began to suck on your clit harder making your upper body squirm because your lower body was being tightly held by him.

“Baby, oh fuck. I'm close, so so close.”

Hearing this, Joe decided to stop which quickly left you confused and he immediately heard your protest since you wasted no time in telling him.

“Joey, what the hell!? I said I was close, why did you stop!?”

“So I could do this.” He told you as he climbed back up your body to kiss you while also sliding into you at the same time with a gasp erupting from you.

Your arms quickly wrapped around his neck as he moved in and out of you at an even pace with him kissing you every few strokes.

Closing your eyes, the grip that you had around his neck quickly became tighter and you soon heard his voice.

“Keep your eyes on me and don’t make me ask again. You understand?”

Your eyes opened and listened to directions, but the head nod that you gave him in response was not sufficient enough. He immediately broke his embrace from you and you felt one of his hands wrap around your neck which instantly made you open your eyes and look at him as he lightly squeezed giving just the right amount of pressure.

“Didn’t we just have a conversation about you using your words when I ask you a question?”

“Yes.”

“Then you need to do what you’re told and stop disobeying me. Because I will stop altogether and make you use your vibrator.”

“You wouldn’t…”

“Go ahead and try me, baby. It’s your choice. Now your eyes better not leave mine. Matter of fact, get up here and ride me.”

Joe didn’t wait for an answer from you as he flipped the two of you back over and you were in the original position that you had been earlier in the night.

Putting his hands behind his head and staring up at you, he smirked.

“You don’t need my help since you like disobeying me, go ahead.” He answered your question already knowing exactly what you were thinking.

Nine times out of ten, Joe would have a tight hold on your hips and help guide you as you rode him, but you knew that you being rebellious against him made him decide to make you do it on your own.

“But babeeee.”

“Less talking, more riding.”

Placing one of your hands on the mattress beneath the both of you and lining him up with your entrance, you slowly eased your way down making a quiet moan escape from Joe’s mouth.

Once you found the perfect pace for the two of you, you could feel yourself growing tired and switched from your right hand being on the mattress to your left thinking that it would help.

Joe could tell that you were growing tired with how your movements were slowing down and took pity on you as you felt him grip both of your hips.

“You need some help, baby?”

Nodding your head, Joe motioned for you to lay down on top of him and as your head was resting on his shoulder, slow deep strokes were given from underneath you as you were moaning right next to his ear.

“That’s my good girl, you’re doing such a good job, baby.”

That familiar feeling that you knew all too well was building and knew sooner rather than later you would hit your peak. Joe obviously was close too, because his movements had now grown sloppy.

“Babe.” You softly breathed out and you could feel him nod his head as yours was still on his shoulder.

“I know, I know. You’re almost there aren’t you? You gonna cum? You gonna cum for me, baby? Cum all over daddy’s dick?”

No words left your mouth as you felt a gush of liquid leave your body and cover him underneath you and not even ten seconds later felt him release inside you.

You laid in the same position for a few minutes as Joe placed soft kisses up and down your neck and shoulder as you were trying to catch your breath.

Once you felt that you could move, you once again turned your head to peek one eye open at Joe and he smiled at you before leaning over to place several kisses on your lips.

“I know you want to lay on me and stay like this, but I need to change the sheets so we can finally go to sleep. Go ahead and take a shower while I do this and then I’ll come join you.”

“Promise?”

“Promise and then in a few hours we’ll wake up and get married in Barbados.”

The two of you had just touched down in Barbados an hour ago and you were currently exploring the beach house that Joe had rented for the both of you. Seeing as he told you not to worry about anything and that he had it handled, when you finished exploring you were simply going to decide on what you were going to wear since the goal was for the two of you to get married by the end of the day.

While in the master bedroom and looking out the window, you didn’t hear Joe come in the room and he was simply admiring you from the doorway before walking over to you and wrapping his arms around you from behind as he rested his chin on your shoulder.

“You like it?”

“Yes, I absolutely love it. I asked for somewhere warm near beaches and my future husband definitely took that into consideration. This beach house is amazing.”

“Oh, so your picky self approves?” He asked and you playfully rolled your eyes.

“Yes, I approve.”

“Good, so start getting ready so we can leave and go get married.”

“I still have to figure out what I want to wear, none of the dresses that I have are really ‘get married in’ worthy.”

“Hmm, you could always go in nothing, I’m not opposed. That would be better for me actually.”

“JOSEPH!” You exclaimed as you turned around to look at him.

“Hey, I just gave you another option.” He replied as he held his hands up defensively.

“But, seriously, baby. I do not care what you wear and I know that you’re going to look beautiful regardless.”

“Aww, you love me don’t you?” You asked and Joe immediately nodded his head and leaned down to kiss you.

“I love you so much because if I didn’t, I would not let you put your cold ass feet on my back when we’re in bed because you’re cold and refuse to wear socks.”

“I cannot wear socks when I sleep! It’s weird!”

“What?! How is it weird?! So you’d rather turn me into a popsicle?”

“Yes, and I will not be discussing this topic further. Happy wife, happy life, Joseph Lee. I know you’ve heard that saying before so prepare yourself.”

After taking a shower and putting on your coconut scented lotion, you slipped into your soft pink sundress and began to play with your hair as you tried to figure out what you were going to do with it, style wise.

It was already in boho knotless braids and since it was obviously warm outside, you opted to put it into a high ponytail. Once it was up how you wanted, you applied light make-up and slipped in your big hoop earrings.

Sliding on your sandals, you heard Joe’s voice behind you after a whistle had escaped his lips.

“Look at how beautiful my fiancée is, just like I expected for her to be. I see you decided to not go along with my idea of what you should wear or not wear.”

“And get arrested for public nudity in a foreign country? I think not.”

“They have nude beaches, I looked into them.”

All you did was roll your eyes at him as you found your tennis bracelet that Joe had gifted you a year prior and attempted to put it on your wrist. Joe noticed that you were having some trouble and quickly put it on for you.

“Thank you.” You told him as you pinched his cheek.

“You’re welcome, babe. Now let’s go and get married.”

Laughter could probably be heard at least three miles away as the two of you were enjoying each other's company while relaxing in the hot tub that was located on the side of the vacation house rental.

You tried to control it so wine wouldn't spill everywhere as you held the glass with your left hand that now had your full wedding set glistening as the sun had just fully set.

“Joey, cut it out! You are going to make me spill this!”

“Hmm, wouldn't be the first time tonight either.” He told you as he swiped it from you and drank it in one gulp as you looked at him in disbelief.

“BABY! You owe me another glass. Your drink is over there!” You whined as you playfully hit his chest.

“Do you want some?”

“No, I wanted mine!”

“I'll go and get it under one condition.”

“The only condition that is necessary is that you'll get it because I'm your wife.”

“Oh, so you're already taking advantage of your name now being Mrs. Burrow, huh?”

“Yes, so go get it for me.” You told him as you pointed to your wine glass that he was indeed still holding.

“And to think you said the bottle looked like it would be considered girly wine.”

“It's good! I wasn't expecting it to be that good. But I'll get you another glass on one condition that I have.”

“And what's that?”

Joe didn't respond, but instead leaned forward to kiss you.

“Okay, now I can go.”

He slid you to the side of him since you had been sitting on his lap to get your refill for you. Joe had made his way back into the house when your phone began ringing and you saw that it was your best friend Destinee and quickly answered.

“Destinee!” You exclaimed since you still couldn’t contain how excited you were.

“Hey, where are you?” She asked not bothering to return your enthusiasm.

“With Joe. Why do you ask?”

“Did you forget that we were supposed to go out today?” She asked and even though you couldn’t see her, you had a feeling that she had definitely rolled her eyes at your response.

“Shit. It completely slipped my mind. I’m sorry about that.”

“Well we can go out later. How long are you going to be with him?”

“Destinee, can you keep a secret? Like you cannot tell anyone what I'm about to tell you.” You whispered into the phone trying to make sure Joe couldn’t hear you.

“Of course I can. What is it? And why are you whispering?”

“I'm in Barbados.”

“Uh okay?”

“And we just got married.”

“YOU ELOPED!?” She exclaimed and you had to pull the phone away from your ear.

“Not so loud! But yes and you have to promise not to tell anyone. I figured that my best friend should at least be one of the people who know about it before anyone else. You’ve been there for the long run and have always supported me through everything.”

“Who else knows? You said, one of the people.”

“No one else does and we'll tell everyone once we're ready. But I hear Joe coming back, talk to you later and I'll send you pics.”

Quickly hanging up the phone, you set it to the side of you as Joe was all smiles as he emerged from the house and handed you another glass of wine.

“Your drink Mrs. Burrow.”

“Why thank you, Mr. Burrow.” You replied as you took a small sip and Joe was climbing back into the hot tub and once again slid you into his lap.

His arms completely engulfed you as you slightly turned to lay your head on his shoulder.

“I have a lot of things planned for us to do tomorrow, but the majority of those plans don't require clothes.”

“And why am I not surprised?” You laughed as you shook your head and took another sip.

“I have to take advantage of being able to spend time with you because you know how busy I'll get during the season.”

“It's your job and I will not be getting in the way of that. I've supported you this long and it's not going away any time soon. I'm here for the long haul obviously.” You told him as you gestured towards your ring.

“I just never want to get so focused on my career that I lose you in the process because when it is all said and done and I’m not playing anymore, I still want you to be at home waiting for me.”

“Babe, if I haven't left yet, what makes you think that I will? I know how important it is to you and you have always treated me like a priority ever since we got together. And I'll still be here when you retire from playing. You manage to have football and me as a priority and neither one is slacking, I promise.”

“And if you ever feel like I'm not doing that, you need to tell me. You are one of the most important people in my life and it's going to stay that way.”

“I promise that I will even though I know that I won’t have to.” You replied before a yawn quickly escaped your mouth.

“Someone tired over there?”

“A little, it’s been a long day after all. I barely got any sleep since SOMEONE was too busy keeping me awake.” You responded while giving Joe the evil eye.

“And as I recall, my now wife specifically asked me to put her to sleep so I don’t want to hear it. But come on, you can finish your wine after we get comfortable in bed.”

“And no funny business! I actually want to sleep.”

“I promise and besides, I want you to sleep too in order to be ready for me for tomorrow.” Joe told you as he wiggled his eyebrows.

“I swear you get on my nerves.”

“Hmm, you weren’t saying that when I was eating you out last night and you need to get over it, till death do us part remember?”

“Don’t push me, Joseph.” You scolded as you finally stood up to climb out of the hot tub with Joe right behind you.

“Just calling it like I see it.”

When you had finished showering and moisturizing your hair, Joe had briefly left the bedroom to do only God knows what so you took it as an opportunity to text Destinee one of the pictures that you had taken of the both of you earlier in the day. Once it was sent, you put your phone on do not disturb and plugged it in to charge on the nightstand as you slipped under the comforter.

Joe came back a few minutes later and crawled in bed beside you as you instantly moved to lay on him.

“I’m happy we did this.” He whispered as he held your hand up to his lips and kissed the back of it.

“Me too.”

The next morning, the constant vibration of Joe’s phone instantly brought him out of his slumber and he sighed in annoyance. Glancing down and seeing that you were still sleeping with your braids failing out of your bonnet, Joe smiled to himself as he placed a soft kiss on your forehead.

He figured that he should answer his phone since it was probably important and was surprised to see a bombardment of texts and calls from different people as he did his best not to wake you up. Instantly confused, he opened the most recent notification and it was from his mom Robin with a photo attached.

Mom- Since when were you two going to tell us that you eloped?

“Shit.” Was all Joe could mutter to himself as his stomach dropped. He did his best to not make any sudden movements, but quickly failed and that instantly woke you up.

“Baby? What’s wrong? Why do you have that look on your face?” You asked Joe as you sat up and rested your back against the headboard and he quickly handed you his phone without saying a word.

Your eyes instantly went wide as you read the text over and over again and looked at the picture that Robin had sent.

“Shit. How did they find out?” You asked as you turned towards Joe who now had his jaw clenched in frustration.

“Hmm, I should be asking you that, Y/N. You took this picture and only had it on your phone, so why is it now all over social media?”

[always-just-red]

@lunariadew asked: 'Can you write a poly fic maby like a feel good fic or date night or something with all the boys! I’m greedy and I think there’s not enough poly fics as there should be'

Nothing profound this time around! Just some good old-fashioned shenanigans. I've wanted to do a fic with all the boys for SO long (Infold, hire me to write a sitcom-style show for the guys, PLEASE) I've kept it platonic since it's early stages; it's open to interpretation about how many sparks are flying and between whom exactly..... 👀 But if ppl want more of this, I'm all over it. Platonic or romantic? I'll play it by ear!

Game Night

L&DS Boys X Reader

Summary: The most important men in your life can manage one evening together, right? For you? Please? Pretty please?

Genre: Fluff + humour

Warnings/Additional Tags: f!reader, some swearing, a lil conflict, non-canon (I know some of the guys probably know each-other but we're pretending they don't 😇)

| Word count: 4k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

“Rafayel… what do you think this is?”

The artist stands at your open door, wearing a self-assured smile and one of the flashier outfits you’ve seen him in, and that’s really saying something. Between you is a bouquet of lilies, petals curled like frozen licks of fire that compliment— deliberately, if you had to guess— the warmer fires within his eyes. Those eyes narrow at your question.

“What do you think it is?” he says suspiciously, lowering the flowers.

“…Game night?”

You’re not sure why you phrase it so tentatively. You know what it is; you’re the host. You open your door wider, stepping aside to give Rafayel a better view of the apartment behind you, and the remainder of his smile sinks.

“Hi,” Xavier calls out, and you don’t have to see him to know he’s giving a wholesome sort of wave.

“Hi…” Rafayel answers, barely more than a whisper as his eyes flit between everyone else in the room, because he’s the last to arrive. “Game night, yeah,” he nods assertively, “I knew that.” Then a deep breath: “Can I, like, put these somewhere—”

“Kitchen counter,” you gesture.

“Got it.” He doesn’t have to be told twice.

Closing the door behind him, you watch as he skirts past the lounge and makes for your kitchen, where another bouquet already lies waiting. He zeroes in on it. “Looks like mine’s not the only heart you’re breaking tonight, huh, cutie? What are these—” he pokes at a petal— “daturas?”

“They’re her favourite,” speaks a distinctly low voice.

Rafayel doesn’t look up. He plonks his bouquet on top of the other and winces: “They’re really not, though.”

“He’s right,” you chip in, giving Sylus a sheepish smile, and now Rafayel looks up, beaming.

“She likes roses,” Zayne says, with the calm confidence he’d quote a medical journal. On the sofa beside him, Xavier nods, and you grin at them both.

“Noted,” Sylus chuckles.

Rafayel’s less convinced. “Since when?!”

“Since forever, Raf. I like lilies too, so I didn’t say anything, ‘kay?” You beckon him back to the lounge, ignoring his splutters of disbelief. “C’mere, let me introduce you to everyone.”

The man slinks to your side like a reluctant shadow, and your hands find your hips. “This is Zayne. Xavier,” you point out, putting faces to names; Rafayel’s heard stories about each. Then you nod towards Sylus. “Over there’s Skye.”

From his place by the window, Sylus lifts a hand in greeting.

“So… yeah,” you finish. Oh, wait! “Guys, this is—”

“They know who I am,” Rafayel shrugs, his fame apparently heavy on his shoulders. He glances around the room for validation, but he gets none, so he tries again. “You do know who I am, right?”

“Sorry,” Xavier admits with an awkward smile, glancing back at Sylus: you?

The man has to think about it. You know for a fact he’s traded more than one of Rafayel’s paintings for a profit, but he smirks and gives an even more exaggerated shrug than the artist himself.

Really?

“You’re Rafayel,” Zayne states plainly.

“Yeah! See, I told you, cutie—”

“You slipped on a paintbrush and checked yourself into Akso, right? The nurses still talk about it.”

Rafayel’s enthusiasm drains. He looks conflicted as he mulls over the additional information. “In, like, a good way?” he hazards.

Zayne stares back at him, wielding silence like a scalpel before cutting deeper with a: “…sure.”

You bite back a smile. Leaving the two to discuss the finer details of Rafayel’s notoriety at the hospital, you wander over to the kitchen, where you fish out a vase from the back of a cupboard. You fill it, set it down on the counter, then reach for Sylus’s bouquet. There’s a black satin ribbon; you untie it.

“Are you sure this is a good idea, sweetie?” asks the man himself, joining you discreetly.

The others can’t really hear you— they’re still talking. “What,” you smirk, retrieving your scissors from a drawer, “you worried Xavier’s gonna arrest you?”

Sylus laughs lowly, quietly. “That’s adorable.”

“Good.” You pick up a flower and trim a leaf from the stem. “Because even if he wanted to—” you wave it, just short of his face— “I’d protect you, ok?”

He regards the flower beneath his nose. Smiles smugly. “These can be toxic, sweetie.”

“Really? Whoops.” You put it down, then snatch up a lily from Rafayel’s bouquet. “En Garde!”

“These too.”

“What the hell?”

The flame-red flower drops from your fingers, and Sylus laughs more sincerely. “Stick to roses, kitten. Or…” He moves his hand over his deconstructed bouquet, his Evol pruning the rest of the leaves from the stems. A tendril of it gathers the flowers, delivering them to him so he can hold them out to you with a flourish. “Live dangerously. Who am I to judge?”

You take them, then plop them into the vase. “Cute.”

“I’m here all week,” he grins. “You’d better wash your hands, hmm?”

With a hmph of agreement, you turn to the sink. You spend half a minute, rubbing soap and warm water over your hands, and when you turn back around— still drying them— something is different. The lilies are gone. Sylus is looking at you, innocuous.

“Real mature, Skye.”

He makes no effort to defend himself. You’re about to tell him that his magic better extend to making flowers reappear when your attention is whipped back to the lounge. The voices from that side have raised, so you lean forward on your kitchen island, watching their owners in a sort of stakeout.

“I take it you have a plan,” Sylus whispers, leaning with you.        

You look at him. He looks back. “The plan is for hosts,” you scold, “not guests.” He’s much too close so you step away, reaching for the vase of daturas and holding them threateningly out, like you’re not afraid to use them. “Go back to the guests, deserter.”

Sylus lifts his hands in surrender, smirking in a way that says he knows he’s met his match. You shoo him further, back into enemy lines, then resume your stakeout. Xavier is sharing his own “embarrassing” medical story— talking about a time where he once passed out from exhaustion while fighting at your side, and you think it’s supposed to make Rafayel feel better.

It doesn’t, of course, and even Zayne is gazing down at the floor, self-conscious.

Sylus meets your eyes across the room, signals with a tip of his head: now's a good time for that master plan, sweetie.

Right. Your plan. Your master plan, yeah.

…

“You should have picked the doctor.”

Sylus’s words are near-silent: for you, not anyone else, and you pretend you don’t hear them. “But no,” he carries on, because he knows you can, “you just had to have the artist.”

“It’s Pictionary!” you snap, drawing all eyes in the room.

Lounging beside you, Sylus feigns an amused surprise, as though he hasn’t just been trying to illicit that exact reaction. On the other sofa, Zayne and Xavier stare, taken more genuinely aback. You give a smile of apology.

“Guys, concentrate!” Rafayel clicks his fingers at you. He’s stood in the centre of the space by a large drawing pad, and he goes back to frantically sketching on it. The drawing is… interesting. Abstract. Maybe even beautiful? But you don’t have a clue what it is.

“Thirty seconds,” warns Zayne, studying the little egg-timer he’s guarding.

You tilt your head at the drawing. There’s maybe a— wait, where did those extra colours come from? Where did he even get those pens? Anyway… there’s a circle. “A globe?” you guess. “Earth! No? Umm… oh! The sun! The moon!”

Rafayel shakes his head with every suggestion, adding even more intricate, unhelpful scribbles. Is that a fifth pen?! You nudge your other teammate, calling for back-up.

Sylus regards the drawing listlessly. “A unicorn.”

“What?!” Rafayel’s tone has reached a pitch that almost makes you wince. “No! C’mon, are you even trying?”

“No,” Sylus lilts with a pleasant smile, lifting the drink he’s been nursing to his lips.

You kick his foot. “A bowl of fruit!” you exclaim, determined to make up for the lack of enthusiasm. “A plate? A plate with food? Breakfast! Lunch! Dinner!”

“Time’s up,” Zayne interrupts, and it’s a mercy, really; you deflate with a sigh.

Rafayel puts his hands on his hips as he takes a step back to observe his work. He tucks four fine-liners back into his pocket— purses his lips as though he really can’t see a problem— and he’s keeping you all in suspense.

Sylus is up in an instant, stealing a card from where it’s been discarded on the coffee table. He reads the answer, then rolls his eyes. The original pen was also abandoned, so he plucks it up, then strides to the drawing pad.

He draws an oval. Then a triangle.

“A fish! A fish!” you cry out.

“You’re good at this, sweetie,” Sylus grins. He puts the lid on the pen with a click before dropping it into Rafayel’s hand.

“Is it my turn?” Xavier asks, trying to relieve the tension of the room. He gets up and smiles as Rafayel passes him the pen. “Your drawing is pretty. The composition is really—”

“Don’t,” Rafayel says. “Like, thanks? But don’t.”

“Fair enough,” Xavier chuckles.

You all prepare for the next round: Zayne handing you the egg-timer, Xavier re-organising the stack of prompt cards. Sylus takes a photo of the drawing pad before ambling back over— a moping Rafayel in tow— and they both sink down either side of you. You glance at the latter, giggling. “A fish, Raf? Really?”

“So I didn’t just wanna draw you some basic fish, ok?” The artist crosses his arms with a pout. “But fine, enjoy mediocrity, I guess.”

To your left, Sylus raises his glass in toast to the notion. There’s a noise: Xavier tearing the used page from the pad. You look up. “Xavier, can I have that?”

“Sure.” He brings it over to you.

You look at the drawing again, holding it at arm’s length and rotating it experimentally. You’re seeing a lot, but nothing that screams ‘fish’. There’s a circle, still. Oh! “It’s a fish bowl! Wait, wait, wait— is that Reddie?”

“Yeah!” Rafayel beams.

“Aww!”

The renewed team spirit drops off with Sylus; he’s on his phone, not paying attention. He seems to sense your scrutiny because he peers up, gives a ghost of a smile, then returns to whatever he’s doing. Meanwhile, Xavier is ready for his turn, so he signals for you to start the timer. You give him a thumbs up as you turn it over. “Go!”

He starts drawing.

“A car,” Zayne guesses after all of five seconds. Correct. Next. “A river? No. Oh. A snake.” Yes. “A cupcake?” Also yes. (In fairness, he was never going to struggle with that one.) “A person? Ok. Oh, a scientist, no? Ah, a doctor.” Yes again, and really— what?

Zayne continues to list correct answers, though thankfully, that’s the last of the coincidences. You watch on, vaguely in awe, until you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. You check it casually, aware that Sylus is next to you, looking down at it too.

It’s a text from him: The drawing… Can I have it?

You glance up at him subtly, meeting his eyes and giving a discreet yet firm shake of your head. He frowns. You’re not having this debate here, now, so you let your gaze return to the drawing pad while idly retrieving your drink.

A few seconds later, there’s another text: Found buyer

Then another: Quarter of a mil

You almost choke on that drink.

“Umm… cutie?” Rafayel asks, poking you. He points at the timer you’ve left on the coffee table, and the top half is empty.

“Shit, yeah. That’s time!” you call.

Xavier stops drawing. The small, crude sketches behind him have reached double digits. He looks really proud. “Great! How many was that?”

His eyes find you. Zayne and Rafayel’s, too. Were you supposed to be counting? Uh—

“Eleven,” says Sylus, and it’s way too smug to be a lie.

“Awesome!” Xavier flips the drawing pad over to where you’ve been tallying point totals. He adds eleven marks to one side. “That’s—” he counts both— “ah, thirty-three to nine.”

A silence falls over the room. Unsure of what else to do, you give a half-hearted round of applause and Xavier laughs awkwardly, still humble, despite it all. “I think we’re kinda done with Pictionary, yeah?” you suggest, rising from your seat. “I should probably get started on food, anyway.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that.”

The insistence came from Xavier, and you freeze suspiciously; he’s never turned down free food.

“You’ve already done so much,” he explains, “setting this all up for us. You should relax, really! Leave it to me.”

The word ‘relax’ is not synonymous with the image of Xavier anywhere near your kitchen, but he’s looking at you so earnestly, blue eyes brimming with warmth, and what are you supposed to say? No thanks, Xavier— I value my life? Everyone’s watching you. Gods help you. “That’s really sweet, Xavier. Thanks.”

Your fellow Hunter’s smile widens even more. He heads off to the kitchen, a spring to his step that makes your heart sink with dread. “Actually—” you glance at your ex-teammates— “could you two go help him? Zayne and I’ll tidy up over here.”

Rafayel and Sylus do as they’re asked, even though their expressions remind you that cooking is not, typically, a three-man job. It’s tactical, though. You wanted a moment alone with Zayne. “Are you ok?” you ask, once the others are out of earshot. “I know this must all be a lot. The guys can be, well… yeah.”

He knows what you mean, right?

Zayne has slipped away from the couch; he’s crouched on the floor, collecting a few prompt cards that have wandered astray. He glances up at you, pushing his glasses back on his nose. “I’m ok,” he assures with a fond smile. “Thank you, though.”

“You’re welcome.” He hands you the cards and you slot them back into their deck. Then you turn to the drawing pad. “You and Xavier make a good team, huh?”

The doctor straightens to his full height. “Mmm. It helped that we didn’t spend the entire game comparing the size of our… drawing abilities.” 

You laugh unashamedly. The pen’s still at-hand, so you pick it up— reward another point.

Zayne chuckles.

“Food’s gonna be a while.”

You both turn, following the voice back to Sylus, who has apparently decided he’s had his fill of kitchen duty. What was that— a minute? He seems to have anticipated your dissatisfaction, because he’s brought a bribe with him: the box of chocolates that had come with his bouquet. It’s already open and he holds it out, tempting you.

He’s right— you don’t know when you’ll next be eating— so you select a heart-shaped chocolate, popping it into your mouth with a smile and a muffled: “thanks.”

Sylus smiles back. Then he holds the box out to Zayne. “Doctor?”

It takes a nod of encouragement from you to prompt Zayne into taking something. He chooses a white chocolate truffle, mumbles his own thanks, but Sylus doesn’t relent— not yet. He shakes the box slightly, incitingly, and he doesn’t move it away until Zayne takes two more.

Your physician shoots you a surreptitious smile as Sylus falls back onto the couch, content he’s won your hearts, and that he won’t be sent back to the kitchen anytime soon. His long fingers lift another chocolate from the box, and he meets your eyes as he slips it slowly past his lips, humming likes he’s enjoying himself.

You cross your arms, unimpressed. He gives you the least convincing look of innocence you’ve ever seen.

There’s an exclamation from the kitchen: “Hey, where did my flowers go!?” 

Shit. You hastily push the drawing pad aside then scurry over to assist Rafayel. You don’t have a plan, exactly; it’s not like you can help him look for them. “Umm… they’re around, Raf. I moved them somewhere safer, that’s all.”

“Where?”

“Uh—”

“Does it matter?” Sylus speaks from behind you, because he and Zayne are close at your heels. “She said they’re somewhere safe.” He leans on the kitchen island. “Don’t you trust her?”

Rafayel scoffs. “I trust her plenty.”

“So prove it. Drop it.”

“Skye,” you caution, “stop.”

Sylus does stop, but not because you asked. He’s done enough already, hasn’t he? Rafayel is bristling with indignance— a lit fuse— and behind him, Xavier sneakily checks the trash can, looking relieved at what he doesn’t find. He gives you a subtle glance: Where actually are the flowers?

You lift a shoulder an inch: Beats me!

There’s a soft, almost imperceptible crackle, and it draws your eyes to the vase of daturas between you all. They’ve caught light— their petals twisting, darkening, within larger flowers of fire.

“Rafayel!” you gasp. “No, no, no, the fire alarm!”

The torched flowers are encased, all of a sudden, in a fine layer of shimmering frost. Sylus blinks down at them, unmoved by their destruction. Zayne’s hand is still outstretched, snowflakes etched over his palm. Then something… odd happens. The ice doesn’t stop. It spreads over the rest of the kitchen island, to all of your bewilderment.

“Zayne?” Your voice is fraught with worry, but you don’t give a damn about your kitchen.

The man winces, and you so rarely see him out of control. The silver-white patterns have crawled up his wrist, and the ice continues to spread; even Sylus steps back. Sharp, jagged crystals start to form— inching out towards everyone.

“Zayne!” you try again.

His chest rises as he drags air through his teeth; it looks like it hurts, but the ice does stop. The others are still, suspended by momentary uncertainty, and you rush to Zayne’s side, taking his hand.

“What the hell was that?” Rafayel remarks, shaking away his surprise and thawing an icicle that’s way too close for comfort.

“He wouldn’t have needed to use his Evol if you hadn’t used yours.”

It’s Xavier, strangely— you would have expected Sylus. The Hunter’s tone is gentle as always, but there’s something behind it, this time: a frustration that lends an edge.

Rafayel hears it too. “Hey, I’m not the one who started this!” He points to Sylus. “He—”

“Has been lighting fires all evening,” Xavier finishes. “But at least his were only figurative.”

Sylus laughs, and it’s the kind of laugh where you just know he’s vying to make things worse. “Look at that,” he says, “the boy next door can bite.”

Xavier’s eyes sharpen. Beside you, Zayne slips his hand from yours. It’s an instinct you know well. This moment is volatile, and you have to be ready. It could go a dozen different ways; it’s just waiting for a spark.

“Guys,” you manage to get out, “please, just… everyone, take a breath, ok? Everything’s fine, we just have to—”

A spark.

There’s smoke. Actual smoke. “Xavier, behind you!” Zayne alerts.

It’s creeping out of the oven and Xavier turns— eyes wide— to open its door before any of you can stop him. Thicker smoke billows out, filling the air, and you all scramble away from it. The fire alarm triggers. You think Rafayel’s shouting something, but you can’t really hear him. Then Sylus is shouting. Maybe even Zayne. The alarm is piercing your ears and making you dizzy— or is it the smoke?

You feel a hand on your shoulder and suddenly everything changes.

There’s cool air, brushing over your skin, and it’s dark; you’re outside the building. You can still hear the alarm, shrill but further away, and your window is easy to spot: there’s a red light flashing behind it. Sylus leans into your vision, saying your name.

“Stay here,” he tells you, “alright?”

He’s gone in another moment, lost to a flicker of crimson-black darkness.

Gods, you’re so stupid.

…

You sit on a short wall outside of your building, and the street is full of people. You recognise most of them: neighbours. Every single one is mad at you. You’re all waiting for the alarm to cut out— for the all-clear to be given. The fire wasn’t that serious in the end, but there’s still a procedure. You would know; this isn’t exactly your first evacuation.

The guys are safe, which is good, because it means you can kill them later. They’ve all gotten lost in the throng, and your neighbours can keep them. Maybe they’ll kill them for you.  

“Hey, cutie.”

You were staring down at your feet, but you look up at Rafayel’s voice. He’s coming towards you, evoking a sense of déjà vu, because he’s clutching a bouquet of flame lilies. That’s… the bouquet of flame lilies. How?

“Skye gave ‘em back to me,” he explains, chuckling at your expression, and he’s close enough now to hold the flowers out to you. “I don’t know where he was keeping them. His Evol’s weird, huh?”

“Yeah,” you say timidly, taking the bouquet and gazing down into the petals; they still smell sweet.

Rafayel sits next to you, shuffling close, and he leans his head on your shoulder with a tired sigh. You want to be mad at him. You really, really do— but you’re suddenly not.

“I’m sorry, Rafayel.” The admission barely makes it out of your throat.

You feel his head lift. “You’re sorry?”

“I know it was just a misunderstanding,” you speak into the flowers, “but tonight… wasn’t what you were expecting, I get it. I mean, I kinda threw you into the deep end with all this. You didn’t know you were gonna be around other people, and I—”

“Whoa— cut that out, yeah? You’re killing me, cutie. I spend the whole evening causing trouble, and you’re gonna take all the blame? Nope. Not happening. It was a collaborative effort at least, ok?”

You giggle. “Ok.”  

“Good.” His head slumps back down on your shoulder, and yours tilts to rest against it. “Thanks, though. Really,” he whispers, so quiet you almost don’t notice.

Footsteps and familiar voices draw you from the intimacy of the moment. The others are wandering back to you, having finally escaped the veritable mob of your neighbours. They all look tired.

Xavier settles down on the other side of you, and Zayne sits beside him. Sylus takes a seat next to Rafayel with a huff, but he’s not half as unhappy as he’s pretending to be.

All of you sit in silence, gazes flitting between your window— where there are still glimpses of moving figures— and everyone else who’s been evacuated. For the first time all evening, the quiet isn’t tense. It’s peaceful. Easy.

“We’ll do better next time,” Zayne speaks softly.

Next time? You scoff. “Do any of you actually want there to be a next time?”

“I had fun,” Sylus chuckles. He’s taken his coin from his pocket, and he flips it, amusing himself.

“I had fun too,” Xavier grins.

“Cooking again, Xavier?” quips one of your neighbours, as they happen to pass by.

The man beside you laughs, but you can tell it’s forced. Your hand finds his; you give it a little squeeze, letting him know that it wasn’t his fault. His heart was in the right place. It’s always in the right place.

You nudge Rafayel away from you so you can sit up straighter, your free hand rubbing your arm, caressing prickled skin. You’re about to ask for a jacket when something heavy drapes over your shoulders. It’s a coat— still warm— and its owner is stood behind you; you didn’t even notice him get up.

“Thanks, Sylus,” you smile.

All eyes turn to you. What are they—?

Oh.

[minkiverse]

SONG MINGI FIC RECS

Poly!Ateez Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Kim Hongjoong - Park Seonghwa - Jeong Yunho - Kang Yeosang - Choi San - Jung Wooyoung - Choi Jongho

The behemoth part two 🫡🫡 fun fact at the time of me writing this san and mingi have equal amount of posts on this blog and thats what you call being double-biased 👍👍 once again unfortunately this will have another part as i could not fit all my recs in this post fuck tumblr but i hope you all enjoy reading about my sweet sweet princess 🥹🥹 and give a lot of love to these authors!!!!

DISCLAIMER none of these works are mine and majority are MATURE 18+, please read all warnings before reading!!!

Key:

✨ - My Favs

🔥 - Smut (MINORS DNI)

⛈️ - Angst

💗 - Fluff

🍑 - Humor

SERIES

Princess pt 2 - @choisanboobenthusiast 🔥

it probably won't be shock that a lot of the mingi fics i recommend are sub!mingi and this is just the beginning 🤤🤤 HOW HE IS WRITTEN HERE IS JUST SO FUCKING CUTE I COULD CRY 😭😭 hes just so needy i- 🫠🫠

Under the Radar - @everyonewooeverywhere 🔥 Fuckboy!Mingi ✧ Ongoing

like i said in my reblog i truly can understand mc because i would also be in love immediately with this man that it would be a concern for everyone around me 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ her making him chase her too AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA I LOVE THAT

Genesis - @songmingisthighs ⛈️💗🍑 Fashion Mogul!Mingi ✧ SMAU

i will say the main trope of this story isnt for everyone BUT IT SURE AS HELL IS FOR ME!!!!! what can i say about this author's smau's they are so interesting with dynamic characters and plotlines but still so funny and i love mingi in this 😭😭😭😭

Use me pt 2 - @hwaightme 🔥⛈️💗 Friends to Lovers

mingi is deeply in love with mc and offers himself up to them and i will cryyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 hes just so precious in this two shot literally the sweetest bub that deserves everything 🥺🥺

show & tell pt 2 - @jensthwa ✨🔥⛈️💗 Friends to Lovers AU

a friends to lovers trope will always get me especially when it starts with them "helping" each other which makes the realization that they love each other sosososososososoooooooo good 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

the princess treatment chronicles pt 2 - @yuyusuyu 💗 Friends to Lovers AU

oh god everyone in this fic is absolutely adorable 🥹🥹🥹 mingi has a list of how to make him fall in love and mc is doing a real good job at completing that list 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 THEY ARE JUST SO CUTE THIS IS JUST FLUFFY FLUFF I LOVE IT!!!!!

Dirty Little Secret pt 2 - @xosannie 🔥 Friends to Lovers ✧ Sex Worker!Mingi

mc stumbles across mingis secret twitter account and cant stop thinking about it but same of course absolutely completely normal reaction to seeing videos of mingi getting himself off like???????? n e ways mc gets to help mingi in his career what a good friend 🥰🥰

ONE SHOTS/DRABBLES

Sweet Juice - @hongism 🔥 Magic AU

the patient in 206 - @frenchkisstheabyss 💗 Hospital AU

[5:04 AM] - @edenesth 💗

Untitled - @sluttywonwoo 🔥

Untitled - @kitten4sannie 🔥 Supernatural AU ✧ Ghost!Mingi

look at the way i ride - @biaswreckme 🔥

edging mingi - @1ovewoo 🔥

Untitled - @sluttywonwoo 🔥

realistic sex with mingi - @byuntrash101 🔥💗

[12:03 am] - @min-gis 🔥

steamroller - @fallinforgyu ✨🔥⛈️💗 Friends to Lovers AU

this fic..... oh my god..... if i wasnt already in love with mingi THIS JUST MADE IT 10000000% WORSE 😭😭😭😭 childhood friends to lovers, pining, unrequited love (not really but u kno asdfsdfgfddf) and just the sweetest exploration of each other as they decide to lose their virginities together AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA 😩😩😩😩😩 its just perfect ok i love them

Untitled - @thetypingpup ✨🔥 Dragon!Mingi

fucking sub dragon!mingi.... what else is there to say 🤤🤤 like him just soaking in the praise and possessiveness ohmygooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo😩😩😩😩

Tuesday | Seven - @sluttywoozi ✨🔥💗

we have 3 major hits in a row AND I AM LOSING MY MIND REREADING ALL OF THEM 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 this is some of the hottest domestic smut ive ever read quite possible 🫠🫠 reader is so incredibly horny for mingi AND I LIVE FOR THAT SHIT and damn mingi is down 😩😩

Assert your Dominance - @everyonewooeverywhere 🔥 Mechanic!Mingi

Untitled - @k-hotchoisan 🔥

[The Pack Next Door] Mingi: Friends with Benefits - @gamerwoo 🔥⛈️💗 Friends to Lovers ✧ Wererwolf!Mingi

Yeehaw - @desirehorizon 🔥

Kinktober Day 30 - @ateezreactionsandscenarios 🔥

Face Sitting with Mingi - @beenbaanbuun 🔥

Use it. - @a-soft-hornytiny 🔥

NSFW Alphabet - @sxcret-garden 🔥

Sleepless Inquiries - @catkyunie 💗

mingi x chubby!reader - @sluttywoozi 🔥💗

Untitled - @sluttywonwoo 🔥

After Work - @ateezscupid 🔥

It's okay, baby - @ateezscupid 🔥

Make Up - @nateezfics 🔥💗

12:06 - @desirehorizon 🔥

booksmart - @byuntrash101 ✨🔥

i am probably a broken record at this point but god do i love sub!mingi AND NERD LOSER MINGI FUCK ME😩😩😩😩😩 mc is such a good tutor for him wowowow 🤤🤤

Killer Eyes - @pirateprincessblog 🔥⛈️ Prisoner!Mingi ✧ Doctor!Reader

[9:47 PM] - @edenesth 💗

most vulnerable - @taexual ⛈️💗 Mafia AU

Hibiscus - @desirehorizon 🔥

Dear Princess - @ateezscupid 🔥 Medieval AU ✧ Vampire!Mingi

Unspoken Desires - @yourlocaljonghoe 🔥

play hooky - @everyonewooeverywhere 🔥

under the sheets - @k-hotchoisan 🔥

save a horse, ride your best friend - @seonghwaddict 🔥💗 Friends to Lovers AU

pussy drunk w/ mingi - @beenbaanbuun 🔥

22:46 - @seonghwaddict 💗 Roomates AU ✧ Friends to Lovers AU

country boy w/ mingi - @beenbaanbuun 💗 Country Boy!Mingi

Hearts Awakened, Live Alive - @sorryimananti-romantic ✨⛈️💗 Fantasy AU Demon!Mingi

tortured cursed mingi my beloved 🥺🥺🥺 this was a fic i read early on into getting into ateez and it is so fucking good 👏👏 like the concept is so interesting (esp for someone like me who hasnt watched any ghibli movies) but catch me sobbing for erebos on a daily basis😭😭😭😭😭😭

Eyes Roll - @jjunieworld 🔥

Wave - @sorryimananti-romantic 💗 Teacher AU

Tired - @hongism 🔥💗

mind over matter - @mingisaddctn 🔥

worship w/ mingi - @beenbaanbuun 🔥

Untitled - @thetypingpup 🔥 Cowboy!Mingi

Untitled - @k-hotchoisan 🔥

Untitled - @thetypingpup 🔥 Dragon!Mingi

brainless w/ song mingi - @beenbaanbuun 🔥💗

butterflies - @hwaslayer 🔥💗 Parent AU

11:15 pm - @minranghae 🔥

backseat serenade - @k-hotchoisan 🔥

boyfriend texts 2 - @beenbaanbuun 🍑

sacrifices - @lustfuldevils 🔥

Rainy Morning - @nateezfics 🔥

Untitled - @sxcret-garden 🔥

Dry Humping - @gingersxng 🔥

Untitled - @dairyminki 💗

Fantasize - @2cupids 🔥

song mingi as boyfriend - @mybelovedwoo 🔥💗

skinny dipping - @byuntrash101 🔥 Swimmer!Mingi

Sour Candy - @0097linersb 🔥

Track 017 - 2Seater - @desirehorizon 🔥

please baby - @starminzoo 🔥

still your biggest fan - @byuntrash101 🔥

Untitled - @everyonewooeverywhere 🔥

situationship w/ song mingi - @beenbaanbuun ⛈️ SMAU

Untitled - @everyonewooeverywhere 🔥

Baby Fever - @everyonewooeverywhere 🔥

Untitled - @justaaveragereader 🔥

00:00 - @iannmin 💗

Untitled - @hrt4yongie 🔥

Untitled - @everyonewooeverywhere 💗 College AU

friends to lovers with mingi - @lxvemaze 💗🍑 Friends to Lovers

Untitled - @cheollipop 🔥

Untitled - @thetypingpup 🔥

Rings of Temptation - @crimsonbubble 🔥

6:52 pm - @323cutie 💗

Obsession - @everyonewooeverywhere 🔥⛈️

10:02 - @kwanisms 🔥⛈️💗 Hyena!Mingi

[power-handmaiden]

Day 320: The Physical Manifestation Of Cancelled Plans Gets Me Off Because Deep Down I Kinda Didn’t Want To Go

Truthfully, I felt a little defeated when I first thought about what I was going to say about this tingler. Mostly because yesterday, I was talking about how much I love and am trying to incorporate the advice of adding more structure and intention to everything in life, both to work and play. And, here, we have a protagonist who has made an art of that practice, and it isn't exactly treating her well.

However, after sitting with it for a little while, I see what's going on here. This tingler and yesterday's tingler were published just a couple weeks apart. Tinglers impart a lot of life philosophy and advice alongside the erotica. And, a huge constant, nearly as prominent as the overarching idea of proving love, is "everything in moderation". So, yesterday's tingler resonated with me as someone who generally benefits from adding more structure... but that's just one perspective on structuring one's life.

This is why I like reading many tinglers, and ones that tackle similar topics, because they always end up adding up to a complex picture that shows how nuanced it can be to tackle a particular struggle. There is no one-size-fits-all life strategy for Tingleverse protagonists. Like all of us on the top layer of the Tingleverse, they're all individuals with their own circumstances that determine what's best for them. This kind of diversity in tingler protagonists feels just as meaningful to me as the diversity of genders and sexualities that has grown since the start of the Tingleverse. (I'll admit, the sex scene of this one really did it for me as well, so I definitely have also been appreciating the added diversity of lesbian tinglers in my own way, too.)

There's a commonality between today's tingler, and yesterday's, with their seemingly different approaches to adding or subtracting structure to one's life. It should have been obvious to me sooner. Either way, it's about proving love to oneself, by creating the kind of life in which one can experience joy and thrive, whatever that looks like to the individual.

[sunnywalnut]

THANK YOU.

Tbh I did not expect you to actually respond and add to this post, but I am THOROUGHLY grateful you have. But I also would like to inform you(and anyone else that's uncertain about their ability to repost this)

Self diagnosis is valid.

Being officially diagnosed is a luxury.

Often one that is usually only given to those that show extreme or undeniable traits. And even then, you still could be denied.

I was 12 when I was diagnosed with autism. People have known something was "off" since I was 4.

I was able to feel the sideways curves in my spine and see that my shoulders were uneven before I got diagnosis for "mild" scoliosis at 19, after living a life complaining of back and rib pain.

I've felt my joints, all the way from my fingers to my toes, all fall out of place since I was 10, often times having to have my own mother massage my knees back into place so that I could walk, and even spraining my ankles simply going upstairs. All of which fell on deaf ears for the entire 20+ years of my life despite countless professionals, from muscular skeletal to rheumatoid specialists and even physical therapists confirming that I have hEds and possibly early signs of rheumatoid arthritis. And yet they still cannot diagnose it because they "can't treat it"

And the reason I say all of this is because I used to worry the same thing. If maybe by claiming this diagnosis as my own, that somehow I was doing something wrong. Or taking something away from someone else. However, I want to let you all in on a little secret.

If you're actively experiencing symptoms, you're not faking it.

You might label the symptoms wrong, yes, but that doesn't mean that they're not there. People get officially misdiagnosed all the time! Because a lot of medical things have a bunch of overarching symptoms that overlap! And you could have so many things going on all at once!

And sure. You're not a doctor. So you might miss something or assign too much importance to it, but that's fine! You're allowed to make mistakes!

Unless you are actively pushing a harmful narrative or making life harder for them, you are not taking anything away from those who are officially diagnosed.

Wear your headphones in public, ask your friend to lower the music, buy a shower chair and lie to the cashier telling them it's for your grandma, pick up a super fluffy stuffed animal just because the texture is calming, take a look at the cool little canes at the thrift shop, do whatever helps you.

There's enough headphones and shower chairs and weighted stuffed animals for the rest of us to enjoy. You're not wasting anything that you find useful. And also, sometimes your friends are just slightly deaf and used to feeling the bass shake their entire car. It's okay to tell them that you're not.

It's okay to ask for some help bringing your groceries out to the car.

It's okay to ask someone to repeat what they said a third time.

It's okay to ask if you can see something again to make sure that you understand.

It's okay to tell people you'd rather not be touched right now.

It's okay to tell people that you want to be touched after telling them previously not to!

It's okay! And this even goes for nondisabled people too! Please reblog this post, even if you have nothing to say or add. Because maybe then, it might find it's way to somebody else who needs it. Whether that be a friend or loved one, a beloved moot, a follower, or just some random homie who comes across it by chance.

Even if you just like the way things are said, or think that the words are nice, that's more than enough reason to throw this post on your blog.

So go for it.

Press the nice shiny button.

Be an ally.

I dare you.

Local PSA: invisible disability does NOT mean you can live your life like a "normal person" invisible disability meant that if a stranger looks at you in public they wouldn't know what's going on.

Like if a wheelchair user were to decide to run into a corner store to grab a candy bar because they know that their legs can last that long without, the cashier wouldn't know.

Or someone with "mild" scoliosis walking upright through their shoulder leans slightly to the left. Maybe they just have bad posture. The lady in the next isle thinks to herself.

The person with EDS or POTS or whatever sort of condition wearing compression gloves out and about. Perhaps it's a fashion statement?

Or what about the people with intestinal issues? They can look like "normal people" too.

You never know what someone is going through.

You never know what they might need to survive or if they're on the edge of a flare up or even if they are currently going through one just by one look.

I think both disabled and non disabled need to realize this. You're not "no longer disabled" because you can "live without" disability aids. They're there to help you. To make your life easier. If living without a cane is going to make it more likely you'll fall over and hurt yourself, use the cane.

If you need to sit down to do dishes or cut vegetables because you need to save your legs for taking out the trash, sit down.

If you need a shower chair because you don't know if you'll pass out, use the shower chair.

People are going to judge you regardless for multiple reasons out of your control.

I'd rather they judge you while you're being safe.

You don't need to struggle to be "normal."

You can just be you.

However that looks for you.

Use your disability aids.

[winwintea]

that's okay

PAIRING ↬ academic rival!na jaemin x ace!female reader

TAGS ↬ fluff, romance, slight angst, academic rivals to lovers au, college au, fake dating au, jaemin = campus playboy, drunk decisions, art museum date, plushies because i want a plushie, jaemin is kinda whipped fr

SUMMARY ↬ you're determined to outshine your academic rival na jaemin, the campus heartthrob infamous for his frivolous reputation. but when a few too many drinks suddenly ropes you into a fake dating scheme with jaemin, you realize that there's much more to him than his playboy persona. can two opposites navigate a connection that’s anything but fake?

WORD COUNT ↬ 3.7k+

AUTHOR’S NOTE ↬ HAPPY BIRTHDAY @lotties-readings !! grinding this fic in a day was so fun. the 3 am brain creativity actually carried this time too. hope i did him justice 😭😭 SHOUTOUT TO THE ASEXUAL COMMUNITY I LOVE YALL <33 THIS ONE'S FOR YOU !!!!

PLAYLIST ↬ cooler than me - mike posner, anti-romantic - txt, are you satisfied? - marina, that's okay - d.o.

WHAT DID YOU EXPECT?

Na Jaemin. The Playboy. He’s probably slept with half of the school and the rumors are on and off with him. The college’s infamous frivolous playboy, a firm believer of the ‘hook up as much as you can before you find your soulmate!’ ideology. For some, it was oddly endearing. For you? Maddening. Because Na Jaemin wasn’t just a playboy. He was your rival. Jaemin just had this certain charm to him that attracted the masses. Everyone, including your friends, had had a crush on him at one point in their lives. Everyone except you. Despite his supposedly carefree attitude, he always ranked #1. And you? Stuck perpetually at #2, clawing at his heels, only for him to breeze past like it was nothing. If it were anyone else, maybe you wouldn’t care so much. But no—it had to be him.

You swore to steer clear of him. No parties, no flirtations, and certainly no personal involvement. That resolve lasted until one ill-advised college party, where Jaemin, drunk and absurdly charismatic, roped you into the lead role of his most ridiculous performance yet: his fake significant other. And you were equally as drunk to play along with it, nodding in the face of his ex-girlfriend as she looked at the both of you in disbelief. For a playboy like Jaemin, you thought he was managing to control his dating life better than this. But you guess he just got bored of being surrounded by love.  “Just go with it,” he’d said. You hadn’t thought it would last beyond that night.

You were wrong.

You suppose it’s partly your own fault finding yourself in your current situation, considering the recent events. In a world where everyone is busy chasing after time, enjoying the dating scene, you’re an outcast. An outcast with false modesty to trick people’s curiosity. You should be used to them by now, their comments about you not being interested in relationships. And even though you do feel fed up with it, the thought of lying about dating someone just so they can shut up never crossed your mind.

“Remind me again why I have to spend the whole day being your pretend partner.” you say, glaring as Jaemin hands you a pastry. “The party doesn’t start until 10PM tonight!” 

“Here you go, love. Be careful, it’s hot!” he says, completely ignoring your question. He resumes walking, hands in his pockets, as if this was the most normal thing in the world, resuming your slow stroll in the garden of a nearby art museum. You hurriedly take it from his hands if that would make him finally pay attention to your question.

“I know it’s hot,” you mutter, taking the pastry anyway. He’s insufferable. Even now, you can tell he’s doing this for show, making a big deal out of playing the doting boyfriend for the strangers milling about the museum garden. “Do you ever actually answer questions, or is that too much to ask?”

“Oh, I answer,” he breezily responds, unfolding a crumpled checklist from his coat pocket. “I’m just selective about when. Do you want to taste mine? I can taste yours too.”

“No thank you.”

Straightening the lapels of his gray coat, Jaemin fetches the brochure handed earlier to him out of his inner pocket and takes a quick look at it to make sure you checked out everything of interest in the area before entering the museum itself. “Now, do you want to check out the sculptures before we head to the main exhibit?”

The guy has a whole checklist of activities for the day. You’ve seen it. He purposely taped another page underneath just to scare you with its sheer length, but you’re seeing right through his tricks, the page is full of gibberish written just to take space. You’ve got your best frown on to keep the illusion of ignorance, hoping that you’d get bonus points for agreeing to go through the full contents of the list, both the real and the fake ones. 

But is it really an act? The occasional tidbits of satisfaction coming from beating Jaemin’s brilliant mind (not that you’d ever give him the credit for it) are hardly enough to keep you entertained throughout the day. When the activities you take on today are meant to be just that, entertaining. And romantic too. 

Now, were you a normal couple, a true couple, then maybe you’d be having fun now.

“Jaemin, I think partners are supposed to listen to each other. At the very least.”

He grins, entirely unbothered by your irritation. “Relax, Y/N. We’re supposed to look like we’re having fun. Couples don’t bicker this much in public, you know.”

“Maybe because real couples actually like each other.”

“And yet,” he says, slinging an arm around your shoulders, “Here we are. The picture of romance.” Ah. He’s right, damn it.

“I only lowered my guard because these people don’t know us, stupid… Let’s get inside already!”

Hearing his low, annoying chuckle triggers the sensory neurons in your brain until a neat little image of his smirk is produced with near-perfect accuracy. Have you simply seen it too many times? There’s no escape even when you turn your back to him, great.

You grit your teeth but let him guide you down a quieter path, away from the crowds. It’s all part of the act, you remind yourself. Just one day of playing along, and people will stop speculating about your personal life. Totally worth it.

Right?

Inside the museum, the tension eases slightly. The museum is magnificent to explore with the many pieces of art it houses. There’s so much to see that you’d frankly not mind getting lost in here just to have an excuse to spend more time surrounded by art.

You have to admit, Jaemin chose the perfect dating spot. You’re not sure if it was based on your own preferences. Surely not. But you find yourself not minding it suddenly.

“Picture!” he announces, pulling you close before you can protest.

Hearing the signal, you instantly turn in the direction of the raised-up phone, smiling for the camera as Jaemin presses his face closer to yours.

“Oh, this is a good one, I’m definitely posting it. You look so in love.”

“I’m in love with this work, that’s it.” you say flatly, staring at the painting behind him.

“Uh-uh. That works for me too.” Jaemin replies while his fingers dance across the screen, likely typing some cheesy caption for the picture. A second later your own phone vibrates in your pocket, signaling that he posted the picture and tagged you in it, and you don’t even bother looking.

“At least you’re a natural, Jaemin.”

“What, in faking an expression? How are you so sure?”

You blink, meeting his gaze as some child holding a balloon separates the two of you for a mere second. Instinctively, you shorten the distance so you don’t lose Jaemin, looking for his hand to take hold of. You’ve already been through that today, linking hands in the crowds. And while there was no real need to do that right now, you just did that…

To the question in your eyes evoked from his last words, he smirks and adds, “There are pieces of art here that I look at with fondness just like you do.”

Your heart sinks for a moment, only to create palpitations that mess with your head. You have no idea where they came from or what evoked this feeling in your chest, but while looking anywhere but at Jaemin, your gaze falls on other couples passing by. You were instructed to watch them if you’re having trouble recreating the subtle romantic gestures that indicate dating. Advice from him no doubt, one that you wish you could forget because it’s too late telling your brain to forget what it’s been taught. But the question is, why the sudden turning of stomachs at the sight of them?

While failing to watch your step, you lose your balance and stumble on your own feet, meeting the hard ground hands-first. You feel eyes on you for a short moment; just a mere second any stranger might spare to witness the unfortunate event before moving on with their tour.

That’s it, except for Jaemin, who is there to pull you up in a manner of utmost care, dusting off your clothes, taking you to a more secluded area with benches to rest on and asking you at least three times if you’re alright before you can snap out of your surprised state and let out a murmur of affirmation.

In the whirlwind of emotions rushing through your slightly clouded mind, you put the embarrassment of your fall aside. As Jaemin turns your hand around to inspect it, you realize that no amount of hand-holding numbs your reaction to the touch of his warm hands. 

And no amount of his exaggerated lovey-dovey gestures of affection could prepare you for the look of genuine worry over something so insignificant on his face.

“You fell on your hands, they must be scrapped… let’s get them under cold water, it would wash away the dirt too.” 

“It’s okay I can do it myself.” You back away from Jaemin, running to take care of it.

And that’s when you realize it.

Pretending to be Jaemin’s partner might be the biggest mistake of your life.

Because it’s starting to feel a little too real.

When you exit the bathroom, Jaemin is waiting for you outside, arms crossed with an unreadable expression on his face. The two of you continue your museum date as normal, nothing out of the ordinary happening other than Jaemin just being Jaemin. 

When lunchtime rolls around, Jaemin takes you into the museum café, refusing to let you pay for anything even though he bought the museum tickets as well. Struggle as much as you want, Jaemin was pretty stubborn.

You and Jaemin sit across from each other, nursing cups of hot chocolate. The quiet buzz of conversation around you blends with the faint classical music playing overhead, the calmness contrasting your otherwise chaotic day.

You’re still nursing your wounded pride (and scraped hands) from earlier. Jaemin’s fussing had been embarrassing, sure, but also... oddly touching. It’s been messing with your head ever since.

“You’re being quiet,” Jaemin says, breaking the silence. He stirs his drink and watches you with another unreadable expression. “Not complaining. Unusual for you.”

“Just tired,” you mutter, avoiding his gaze. “This whole thing is exhausting.”

“Yeah?” He leans back, “What part? The fake dating, or me?”

“Both.”

His laugh is soft, almost self-deprecating. “Fair.”

A moment passes, and you realize he’s studying you. Not with his usual playful smirk, but something more serious. It’s unsettling and scary, like he’s peeling back layers you didn’t even know you had.

“You know,” he starts, voice quieter now, “you’ve always hated me.”

Your head snaps up. “What? I don’t—”

“Don’t lie. I noticed.” he cuts in, but there’s no malice in his tone. “It’s fine. I get it. I mean, I’m Na Jaemin, right? The playboy. The guy who’s ‘probably slept with half the school.’” He uses his fingers to air quote the phrase, lips forming a bitter smile. “That’s what people say, isn’t it?”

You feel a pang of guilt. It’s exactly what you’ve always thought, always assumed about him.

He continues, eyes fixed on his drink. “Funny thing is, that wasn’t true at first. I wasn’t like this in high school. Sure, I was flirty, but it was harmless, y’know? Then one day, someone started a rumor about me. Said I hooked up with some senior at a party.” He shrugs. “It wasn’t true, but people believed it. And once the rumors started, they didn’t stop. Girls came up to me and I just... didn’t say no.”

You blink, caught off guard by the honesty in his voice. “Why didn’t you?”

“Why not?” His smile not breaking, “They already thought I was that guy. And honestly? It was easier to play the part than fight it. People liked the idea of me being the ‘fun, no-strings-attached’ guy. I became what they wanted.”

You’re quiet, the weight of his words settling heavily in your chest. All this time, you’d judged him without really knowing him. And now, sitting across from him, you realize how wrong you’d been.

“I’m sorry,” you say, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

“For what?”

“For... hating you, I guess. I just—” You hesitate, fidgeting with the edge of your sleeve, searching for the right words. “I’ve never liked the whole ‘playboy’ thing. It feels... shallow. And I don’t understand how people can be so casual about it.”

Jaemin’s gaze softens. “That’s because it’s not your thing. And that’s okay.”

Your eyes lit up with shock. You definitely weren’t expecting Jaemin to be this receptive towards your criticisms of him. “I guess I’ve always judged people like you because I don’t... get it. Sex and dating just seem so complicated and messy. I don’t want anything to do with it.”

Jaemin tilts his head, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “You’re ace, right?”

You nod, surprised he remembered. He must’ve heard it somewhere, you barely told anyone except for your close friends. Others just assumed, which was fine by you.

“That’s... honestly kind of cool,” he says, leaning forward. “I mean it. You don’t have to deal with all this shit. Expectations, drama, people using you for what they want. You just... are. I envy that.”

“You do?” The idea feels absurd. Jaemin, envying you?

“Yeah.” He smiles, but there’s a hint of sadness in it. “I’ve spent so much time being what other people expect. Sometimes I don’t even know who I really am. But you? You’re just you. That’s... rare.”

His words catch you off guard, leaving a strange ache in your chest. You wonder if he’s just been hiding behind a mask this whole time. Who really was the Na Jaemin sitting right in front of you right now? “Well,” you say softly, “I think you’re more than what people say about you.”

He raises an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. “Careful, Y/N. That almost sounded like a compliment. You’re supposed to hate me.”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” you shoot back, but there’s no hostility in your tone.

For the first time, you see him for who he really is. Not Na Jaemin, the playboy, your rival… but just... Jaemin. And maybe, just maybe, you don’t hate him as much as you thought.

When the two of you finished your museum exploration, you found yourselves in the gift shop. The aisles were packed with trinkets, books, and stuffed animals, the kind of things that were charming but utterly unnecessary and overly expensive. You didn’t plan on buying anything, but Jaemin insisted he wanted to pick up something for a friend.

Shivering slightly, you rubbed your arms, trying to warm up in the chill from the air conditioning blowing down from the vent above.

“Cold?” Jaemin asked, his sharp eyes catching your sudden movement.

“Oh, just the A/C,” you replied quickly, waving him off, but you couldn’t stop the flush creeping over your cheeks.

“Do you want my coat?” He was already starting to remove his gray jacket, but you held up a hand.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” you said hastily. “It’ll be warmer outside.”

Jaemin paused, then smirked. “Aren’t you glad your friends dragged you to that party?” He asked, standing right beside you now, picking up a penguin from the stuffed animal bin. “Isn’t he cute?”

“Absolutely not,” you said, laughing despite yourself. “Though I’ll admit, this has been... fun. Even if the ‘fake dating’ part threw me for a loop. And yes, he’s super cute. But penguins aren’t my favorite.” 

He raised an eyebrow, eyes burning into you, as he turned the penguin over in his hands. “Who said it was fake?”

You blinked at him, unsure if you’d heard right. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He didn’t answer, just hummed and walked away, leaving you standing there with your arms crossed, frowning after him. What’s he playing at?

Trying to shake off the odd tension, you wandered to another shelf and found yourself staring at a tower of cell phone plushies. Your eyes landed on a bunny plush, adorable, with floppy ears, sparkling blue eyes, and a pink nose. You reached for it, but so did another hand.

“Oops—sorry,” you stammered, looking up to see Jaemin standing beside you again.

“Oh,” he said, his voice light, but his eyes were unreadable.

“I was just—”

“Which one did you want?” he asked, his tone suddenly serious.

“The bunny,” you admitted, pointing. “But it’s the last one, and if you wanted it—”

Before you could finish, he grabbed it.

“Actually, I did,” he said, pulling out his wallet and heading to the cashier.

You stood there, stunned and a little annoyed. Seriously? He’s that kind of guy?

As you stared forlornly at the remaining plushies: a raccoon, a squirrel, and a cat that weren’t nearly as cute. You sighed. It’s fine. It’s just a toy. But somehow, it still stung.

“Here.”

You turned to see Jaemin dangling the bunny plush in front of you, a playful grin on his face. “You—I thought you wanted it?” you said as you reached out to take it. The plush felt even softer than it looked.

“I did,” he said with a wink. “But I wanted to buy it for you.”

“I—thank you.” You stumbled over your words, suddenly feeling silly but also oddly happy. A big, goofy grin spread across your face as you hugged the bunny to your chest.

Jaemin chuckled softly. “You’re cute when you’re flustered, you know that?”

“Shut up,” you fired back, but your cheeks still burned.

You started to turn away, but Jaemin stopped you with a gentle tug on your sleeve. His expression was different now, serious, almost nervous, as he looked at you.

“Y/N,” he began, his voice quieter. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Your stomach flipped. “What is it?”

“This... whole fake dating thing?” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking almost shy. That was strange in comparison to his usual confidence. “It wasn’t just about my ex, or shutting people up. I—I’ve been watching you for a while. I mean, not in a creepy way,” he added quickly, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “I just... I’ve always been interested in you. You’re smart, funny, and you don’t care about impressing anyone. You’re... different. In a good way.”

Oh you weren’t expecting that. You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest. “Jaemin, I—”

“I know you have concerns,” he said, cutting you off gently. “About... your sexuality, and what people might think. But I don’t care about any of that. I don’t care what the world expects or what people say. I care about you. And I’m not asking you to change or be anything other than yourself. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with sincerity. You didn’t know what to say. You’d spent so long assuming Jaemin was just a shallow playboy, someone who could never understand you. But now, looking into his eyes, you realized how wrong you’d been. Jaemin understood you way too well. Enough to the point where he was hitting all the right points of reassurance in your heart.

“I don’t know if I can be what you’re looking for,” you whispered.

He smiled softly. “You already are.”

For a moment, the world around you faded. The noise of the gift shop, the bustle of other shoppers. It was just you and Jaemin, and the quiet, fragile connection that had grown between you.

Maybe this wasn’t fake after all.

You realized just how much he’d been hiding. Jaemin, the playboy everyone admired, the guy who never seemed to take anything seriously, was opening up to you in a way that was raw, even vulnerable.

“Honestly?” you whispered, clutching the bunny plush to your chest. “I never thought someone like you would understand... someone like me.”

He chuckled softly, the sound warm and reassuring. “I get that. I probably don’t fit the part, huh? But, Y/N, you’re incredible just as you are. I think it’s amazing that you know what you want and what you don’t want. I wish I’d figured that out sooner.”

You looked down, feeling way too emotional, “So, you really don’t... mind?”

Jaemin shook his head, his smile was gentle. “Not even a little. I’m here because I like you for who you are. You don’t need to be anyone else or change anything about yourself. I’m fully willing to love you. Just like this.”

His words settled over you, as warm and comforting as his coat might have been. The insecurities you’d held about relationships, about your identity, all the ways you feared you might not be enough for someone. Maybe never even find someone at all? They began to melt, replaced by a quiet sense of peace.

“So... if this isn’t fake, does that mean this is... this date is… real?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jaemin smiled, reaching down to take your hand, his fingers intertwined with yours in a way that felt so natural it sent a shiver down your spine. “It’s as real as you want it to be. No pressure, no expectations. Just us, figuring this out together.”

Looking up at him, you felt something you hadn’t quite felt before. This wasn’t about conforming to anyone’s idea of love or romance. It was about connection. And standing there, surrounded by stuffed animals and museum souvenirs, you felt like you’d found something rare.

You squeezed his hand, a small smile breaking across your face. “Alright, Jaemin. Let’s give this a try. Just... don’t go stealing all the last plushies every time we’re out together, okay?”

He laughed, his grin brightening at your words. “Only if you agree to keep that bunny plush with you as a reminder.”

“Of what?”

“Of this moment. And of the fact that someone finds you absolutely perfect, exactly as you are.”

The two of you walked out of the gift shop hand in hand, leaving behind any doubts and stepping into something perfectly real.

PERM TAGLIST ↬ @lyvhie @aquaphoenixz @galacticnct @ldh0000 @polarisjisung

[marsdql]

𝓬𝓪𝓷𝓽 𝓼𝓽𝓪𝔂 𝓶𝓪𝓭 𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻 :‹

Pairing: Boyfriend!Heeseung × girlfriend!fem!reader

Synopsis: Another heated argument with you and your boyfriend Heeseung, making it your last straw. You thought it was the end for a while after leaving, until one day..

Genre/warnings: angst to fluff, toxic relationship, a lot of back and forth, idk ok.. | wc: 2k

𝙈𝙖𝙧’𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚: This has been in my drafts for a while so I had to let it out. I’ve been writing SOOO MUCH HEESEUNG FICS ITS CRAZY omg. I promise diff are coming I’m js so brain dead on what to write and I don’t get requests..😁 Jake ff coming out Friday nov15 for his birthday tho!! anyway go enjoy :>

The argument started innocently enough. You were waiting for Heeseung at a party you’d been planning to attend together, but he never showed. You called, texted, and waited for hours, but he never responded. When you finally got home and found him there, acting as if nothing had happened, something inside you snapped.

“What’s wrong with you?” you demanded, slamming the door behind you. “I waited for you all night, Hee! Do you know how embarrassing it was, standing there by myself while everyone kept asking where you were?”

He looked up from his phone, barely acknowledging your presence. “I told you I wasn’t sure if I could make it.”

“You told me you wanted to be there,” you shot back, anger rising in your chest. “But you didn’t even call, Heeseung! You just left me there, like I didn’t matter at all.”

Heeseung rolled his eyes, an exasperated sigh escaping his lips. “Why are you making this such a big deal? It was just one night.”

“Because this isn’t the first time!” Your voice shook as you threw your bag onto the couch, barely able to contain your frustration. “You keep doing this—promising me you’ll show up, then bailing like it’s nothing. Do you even care about this relationship anymore?”

“Here we go again,” he muttered under his breath, but loud enough for you to hear. “You’re always turning everything into a personal attack.”

You clenched your fists, trying to hold back tears of frustration. “Maybe if you actually made an effort, I wouldn’t feel like I have to ‘attack’ you. I’m so tired of being the only one fighting to keep us together.”

Heeseung scoffed, throwing his phone down on the table. “Oh, please. Don’t act like you’re some saint here. You’re always complaining, always finding something wrong with what I do or don’t do. It’s exhausting.”

“Exhausting?” The word stung, and you felt a pang of anger so sharp it made you shake. “So you’re saying I’m exhausting?”

“Yeah, maybe you are,” he snapped, meeting your gaze with a hard look you’d never seen from him before. “Maybe this whole thing is just… too much. You’re always so needy, always wanting more. Maybe I can’t give you what you want.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, the words hitting harder than he knew. “Needy?” you repeated, voice trembling. “I don’t think it’s needy to want the person I love to actually show up for me. But maybe you’re right—maybe I’m asking too much from someone who clearly doesn’t care.”

“Oh, don’t twist this around like I don’t care,” he shot back. “I have my own life, my own problems. Everything doesn’t revolve around you.”

“That’s not fair, and you know it,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “You’re the one who’s been pulling away, Heeseung. You’re the one who’s been acting like I’m some burden you have to carry. I’m just asking you to meet me halfway, but you can’t even do that, can you?”

Heeseung’s expression hardened, and for a moment, you saw something cold flicker in his eyes. “Maybe I don’t want to meet you halfway,” he said, each word cutting deeper than the last. “Maybe I’m tired of pretending like this is something it’s not.”

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart sinking as his words settled over you. “So… what, then? You’re tired of me?”

“Maybe I am,” he said, his tone bitter. “Maybe I’m tired of constantly being made to feel like I’m not enough, like no matter what I do, it’s never good enough for you.”

You felt your chest tighten, a tear slipping down your cheek despite your efforts to hold it back. “I just wanted you to try, Heeseung. To actually care enough to make an effort.”

“And I just wanted you to stop making me feel like a failure,” he shot back, his voice raising. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to constantly feel like you’re not measuring up? You keep pushing and pushing, and it’s like nothing I do will ever be enough for you.”

“Then why didn’t you say that?” you yelled, feeling your anger and heartbreak twisting together into something raw and painful. “Why did you let me keep believing that you wanted this, that you wanted us?”

“Because I thought I did,” he said, voice cracking as he looked away. “But lately… I don’t know. Maybe we’ve both just been holding on to something that isn’t there anymore.”

His words shattered something deep inside you, a pain so intense it felt almost physical. You took a shaky breath, struggling to find the right words. “So that’s it?” you whispered. “You’re just… giving up?”

Heeseung’s gaze softened, but he didn’t move toward you. “I’m just… tired of hurting you,” he said quietly. “And tired of feeling like I’m the problem. I can’t keep doing this.”

You looked away, unable to bear the sight of him standing there, so calm, as if he hadn’t just destroyed everything you’d built together. “Fine,” you whispered, barely able to get the words out. “If that’s how you feel… then maybe we shouldn’t keep doing this.”

For a moment, you thought he might say something, that he might reach out, try to fix the damage that had been done. But he didn’t move, didn’t say a word, just watched as you picked up your things and turned toward the door.

“Goodbye, Heeseung,” you said, your voice barely audible as you walked away, each step feeling heavier than the last.

As you closed the door behind you, you realized that you had been holding on to a version of him that no longer existed, a love that had withered in the space between unmet expectations and unspoken resentments. And the realization hurt more than anything he could have said, because now you knew that sometimes love simply isn’t enough.

Weeks had passed since that night, but the pain still sat heavy in your chest, a constant reminder of the words you both threw like daggers. You had told yourself it would get easier—that eventually, you’d stop replaying the fight over and over, picking apart every sentence, wondering if you could have said or done something differently.

But every time you closed your eyes, you could still see him standing there, looking at you with that mixture of anger and something else—something you couldn’t name.

Tonight, you found yourself sitting in a quiet café, stirring a mug of coffee you hadn’t touched. You’d come here hoping the change of scenery would help, but all it did was bring memories crashing back, drowning you in thoughts you had been trying so hard to escape. And then, as if fate had a cruel sense of humor, the doorbell chimed, and there he was.

Heeseung.

He hadn’t seen you yet, and you almost turned away, almost gathered your things to leave before he noticed. But some part of you—maybe it was the part that hadn’t stopped missing him, the part that still ached for him despite everything—stayed rooted in place.

As if sensing your presence, Heeseung looked up, his eyes widening slightly when they met yours. For a moment, neither of you moved, both frozen in the shared silence. Finally, he took a breath and walked over, his steps hesitant, as if he, too, was unsure of how this would go.

“Hey,” he said, his voice softer than you remembered, almost as if he were afraid of breaking something fragile.

“Hi,” you replied, your own voice barely above a whisper.

He sat down across from you, and for a moment, the two of you just sat in silence, both unsure of where to start. The tension was thick, memories of the fight still hanging heavily between you.

“I… I didn’t expect to see you here,” he said, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.

“I didn’t expect to see you, either,” you replied, your tone guarded.

Heeseung looked down at the table, then back up at you, his eyes searching yours. “I’ve been thinking about… that night. About the things we both said.”

A lump formed in your throat, and you swallowed hard, nodding slightly. “Me too,” you admitted, voice trembling.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said, his gaze never leaving yours. “I know that’s probably hard to believe after everything, but… I never wanted things to end up like that.”

“Then why did you let it get to that point?” you whispered, the hurt and confusion you’d been carrying pouring out before you could stop it. “Why didn’t you just talk to me, Heeseung? Why did you make me feel like I was the problem?”

He sighed, looking down at his hands. “Because… because I didn’t know how to tell you that I was struggling. I thought I was supposed to handle everything on my own, and I didn’t want to burden you with my issues. But in trying to protect you, I pushed you away, and that’s on me.”

His admission cracked something open inside you, and you felt a surge of conflicting emotions—relief, sadness, anger. “I would’ve been there for you, Heeseung. All I wanted was to be there for you.”

“I know,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I realize that now. I just… I guess I was scared. Scared of being vulnerable. Scared of letting you see the parts of me that I’ve always tried to hide.”

You felt a tear slip down your cheek, but you didn’t bother to wipe it away. “You didn’t have to be perfect for me, Heeseung. I never wanted that. I just wanted you.”

He reached out hesitantly, his hand hovering over yours, and for a moment, you thought he might pull back. But then, slowly, he took your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours, warm and familiar.

“I don’t know if I can fix what I broke,” he said quietly, his eyes full of regret. “But… if there’s still a part of you that wants to try, I’d do anything to make it right.”

You looked down at his hand, the memories of all the times you’d held each other, all the promises you’d once shared. Part of you wanted to say yes, to let yourself fall back into the warmth of him, to believe that maybe, just maybe, things could be different this time.

But another part of you remembered the pain—the nights spent wondering if you were enough, the feeling of constantly fighting to hold onto someone who kept slipping away.

“I don’t know if I can trust you again, Heeseung,” you said, voice breaking. “You hurt me so much. I don’t know if I can go through that again.”

His grip on your hand tightened slightly, desperation flashing in his eyes. “I know I messed up, and I know it might take a long time to earn back your trust. But if there’s even the smallest part of you that thinks we could make this work… I promise I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Silence settled between you, thick with emotion, as you weighed his words. You knew that forgiveness wouldn’t come easily, that the scars from that night would always be there, etched into your heart. But looking at him now, at the vulnerability in his eyes, you saw a glimpse of the Heeseung you’d fallen in love with—the one who had once made you feel like you were his whole world.

Taking a shaky breath, you met his gaze. “If we do this… it can’t be like before. We both have to be honest with each other, even when it’s hard. No more hiding, no more pretending.”

He nodded, a look of relief washing over his face. “I promise,” he said, his voice full of conviction. “No more hiding.”

Slowly, cautiously, you let yourself smile, a small glimmer of hope flickering in your chest. It would be a long road, full of challenges and doubts, but for the first time in a long time, you felt like maybe, just maybe, you could find your way back to each other.

And this time, you’d fight for each other—together.

Reblogs and feedback appreciated, thank u ! DIVIDER CREDITS: @anitalenia

[ marsdql ]

[dadsbongos]

hi (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡ i was wondering if it's okay to be a little bit feral about viktor here.,..,., craving him. Carnally

let’s get feral about viktor…  general thots here and then a stupid blurb below the cut

would definitely be into face-sitting: pleasing his partner while laying back. hands free to roam and grope and you get to control the pace. you could grind on his nose and throw your head back and he just gets to listen as you squeal.

also would look so so so good covered in hickies….. purplish love bites decorating his sharp collarbones.. he’d probably let you get away with sucking some up his neck since he’s locked in the lab all day anyway

hngnnnggg he’s gotta be PENT up too. he’s handsome and he knows it, but he went from a studying assistant to a full scientist behind hextech so he pretty much capped himself on sex. so when he gets into it he is. INTO it. so needy and whiny and overstimulates himself to keep fucking you just so he doesn’t have to stop

i want him lol… not laughing

~~ 530 words

his careful and thoughtful inflection, each word he says wrought so particularly that no matter how big the words he uses are -you understand each one perfectly with how he uses it.

which is why you take so much pleasure in finding him tongue-tied next to you. pale cheeks flushing and eyes, so ragged with knowledge, wide chock full of curiosity. you’re sure he hasn’t gotten much attention -- no amount of beauty or charming accent can save a scientist from his own devotion.

he got dragged out to an exhibition gala by jayce and he’s been slick against the wall since arriving. no drink or plate in hand, he simply leans there in a bored silence. which is when the last person he wants to see arrives: you, the new assistant.

you spare no time before saddling up beside him with two champagne flutes. one has a dewy smear of gloss along the rim while you extend the other.

“any commitments tomorrow? or can i finally see the famed hextech let loose?”

viktor eyes the bubbles, dragging his gaze up to your face and halting there for an excruciating second before leaning to grab the glass.

“i was just thinking of leaving,” he admits, “these public showings are not my idea.”

“go figure. i think everyone here’s gathered that.”

“jayce can handle any questions of the evening…” viktor sighs, frowning down at the champagne, “sad that you wasted your time getting me the glass.”

“you know, i do wonder how many girls out in town dream about jayce. he’s the face -a pretty face- for hextech,” viktor raises a brow at you prodding for explanation, “i just don’t understand how they can overlook the brains.”

viktor jumps, gaze startling down to his feet, a stiff response already spilling, “jayce is half the brain, and so am i.”

“then i guess i just need to tell you that i think you’re cute.”

a flurry of excuses storms behind his eyes before he catches his breath, shoulders drooping as he exhales and realizes: he doesn’t have to find an excuse. he doesn’t have to refuse you at all. 

he’s not working tonight. you’re not working. he can’t remember the last time he got to act like a normal man with normal desires rather than fulfilling some vague purpose. an idyllic achievement.

he could just be a man tonight.

so he clinks his glass against yours with a soft smile, “then i’m assuming you’re not busy tomorrow, either?”

“i am not,” you beam, sliding closer toward him.

and good thing; both of you having the next day off means you can pull viktor into your apartment, and then your bed. he lets you guide the night, watching with uncharacteristic amazement as you strip -- he looks so mesmerized his hands clench, itching to scale up your bare sides.

you swing a leg over him when he’s sat against your headboard, “you okay, vik?” he tilts his head only for you to cup his cheeks and keep his head straight, “you’re all flushed.”

“your forwardness,” he blinks up at you, heart thrumming between his ribs, “it scares me.”

“oh?”

“i’ve never been more aroused.”

“oh…”

… in another world i will write a viktor fic with this same premise… it is so. Interesting to me.

[kreuiza]

becoming the person i need for myself?

can i even say i know what i need?

i need conversation

i need small acts of love

i need bigger acts at times

i need to know your certain

i need to be certain

i need to trust

i need to know your thoughts and perceptions match mine

you don’t have to be me but we have to match to a certain extent what we think and still be able to “argue” on the other sides views even if we don’t agree with them we still try to see it from their view

i need you to show up when it matters to me

i need you to be open minded

i need to be able to be weird unapologetically

i need a pushy person push me to do things

i need a voice of reason

i need you to think of me

i need to be considered

i need to be respected as much as i respect them

i need a reality check

i need harsh words spoken to me kindly

i need transparency

can i sit here and do all these things for others?

if i can’t does that mean i am not enough for myself?

if i can would that make me a better girlfriend to someone?

am i doing this for the right reasons of wanting to be a better girlfriend or because i want to be better for myself?

do i even respect myself enough?

i was told i have no self respect and it bothers me but it is true i have gotten to used to not respecting myself that i don’t even notice when im doing it anymore until someone plain as day says that what im doing is an embarrassment and sad to watch

as much as i don’t want to think others words or views of me affect me they do they always will

does that make me weak?

i am weak when it comes to it because it’s reality i do not love myself enough to respect myself

what is going on with me?

what am i truly looking for?

who am i even looking for?

do i even want what i think i want?

am i even allowed to question anything?

everything that is happening is because of my own actions

if i thought it was right as the time then who am i to also disagree it makes everything more confusing

leave things how you left them and let it go it is over you can go back and change your words but it doesn’t erase what i already said

my past actions will be forgiven but never forgotten

and in that scenario wouldn’t it always live there even while worked out it would still be there and still bother him just because i am “better” now doesn’t mean everything i have done before is gone it is just slightly less remembered

but never forgotten

[squiddy-god]

Hello!! If you're still accepting requests could I please request hcs for husband Ratio? Just any headcanons of him and how he'd be as a partner, anything you have pookie I'm starved and you write good food🙏

OMG YES I ABSOLUTELY CAN ugh ratio as a husband hmgjsnsd he's so perfect,,, he's so husband coded. I am always willing to feed the hungry lol, so enjoy the meal that is this man 

♡request open♡

Cw : established relationship, husband ratio, domestic fluff, cute and sweet, Gn!reader 

Hhmhmmmhgggff ratio as your husband is so good, tasty, delicious 

Ratio is a man who no one expects to be a good husband but he actually is like, the most devoted hubby 

His students know he has a partner and they pray for you lmao and when you show up with a sweet lunch for veritas, they are dead on impact from the shock 

Vertais ratio is a good husband, wakes up earlier than you in the mornings due to his work and general schedule, so he makes sure to brew enough coffee for you to have some when you wake up

On days that you both have off he still wakes up early, however he climbs back into bed and read for a bit utility you wake up, 

Most would assume that not much changes about ratio when hes married but those people are wrong as hell

He builds you into his schedule even more then he had before, he makes sure to give you kisses at least twice a day, always giving goodnight kisses, and if not good morning then he is cranky lmao

He also is the type to schedule at least one date a week, even if its something simple

Honestly no one expected him to be so utterly whipped, such a dotting husband but here he is

He always calls himself your husband, its cute actually when he introduces himself as your husband dr ratio

Kisses your wedding ring and blushed when you kiss his

If you are working and he isn't, then he will make you a lunch and bring it to you so that he can see you at lunch

Says he don't live for gossip but he lives for your gossip, tell him about that work drama, the family drama- he is roasting everyone 

I love husband ratio

[lndsismaeverything]

Drunken moments

Lnds men gets a little drunk and spills away their feelings at the moment ( MC is already in a relationship with him )

An: here I am writing another fic even though I don't wanna ᕕ(˵•̀෴•́˵)ᕗ took me 3 days to write this ...

Not proof read sorry for mistake and grammar issue. And some words

Xavier

You and Xavier are having a home hotpot. Just a little celebration form todays mission. It was his idea to eat hotpot in the new hotpot restaurant . But when y'all got there it was to crowded and have to wait 2 hours for a table.

Xavier was disappointed to say the least . It was late at night ,almost 10 pm already and he was really craving hotpot

" Xavier why not have hotpot at home? We can buy the ingredients at the store plush it be a lot cheaper and more food" you said looking at his gloomy expression turn into bright smile

" yea, it would be just the two of us too "

The two of you bought the ingredients and headed straight to your apartment since you have all the equipment for the hotpot

No later did you pulled out the alcoholic peach drink you bought a few days ago that was sitting in the fridge, nothing is better then having a cool drink with hotpot on a chilly night

Xavier didn't usually drink but today was an exception and was worth it after defeating a wonderer

I don't know if Xavier can hold his liquor or not judging by his appearance he looks like he'll be knock out cold after a few glasses. Or he can hold it every well since she's been living for over 214yrs on earth now

But let's say he's weak to alcohol for now-

Xavier cheeks are dusted with a hue of pink he should stop drinking while he's still sober. But he can't because of the delicious hotpot u made goes so well which this nice refreshing alcoholic peach drink

After cleaning up the table with the help of your boyfriend you decided to settling on the sofa, to watch a some random comedy video

" Xavier I think u have enough to drink " you said to your boyfriend and grabbing the alcoholic drink and put it on the coffee table, which he protested but let it go

You lay on the sofa , switching from show to show not knowing that Xavier stared at you lovingly. The next moment Xavier lean toward you and kissed your cheeks

It caught you in surprised of the sudden affection of his just now " you look pretty bunbun " Xavier wrapped his arm around your waist and snuggled close

You just smile at him realizing he's a bit drunk but also a bit sober but not completely.

" thank you for the delicious hotpot " his voice so gentle yet soothing

" can we hotpot like this everytime? " he said looking up at you as you played with his soft fluffy hair

" yes of course " you replied, your hand cupped his cheek as you draw small circles.Letting go he plopped his head back on your thighs snuggling close and holding you tighter making you laugh as it tickles

" my honey is the best person in the universe. And not only is she strong, beautiful , kind, trustworthy , independent and a bit stubborn sometimes . She also an amazing cook and Baker."

"I love her so much , my little starlight "

"Your my brightes star in my univers. Beaming brightly when I miss you. Reminding me that I'm not alone "

with that Xavier fell asleep. You turn off the TV and join him holding him tight as he lay on too of you

Both of you woke up from the sofa with back pain.

Zayne

You and zayne just got out of the bar and headed straight home.

Of course zayne didn't drink but that didn't mean you didn't. It was a bummer that zayne didn't enjoyed the free cocktail that the hospital will pay later on . Congratulating zayne for having the title of the youngest doctor that maded it so far in his career as a cardiac surgeon.

The small part only included zayne colleagues and you .

Greyson try to convince zayne to at least have one glass or a beer but zayne refused saying " I'm responsible for taking y/n home "

After zayne dropped you off home you invited him over saying you got him a gift for him. Grabbing the gift from th kitchen table you handed to him and congratulated him on his achievement

He open the gift and it was chocolates

" may I ?" He asked you told him it's his and he could eat it now if he wanted. Knowing zayne sweet tooth he immediately devoured 3 of them while you get something to go along with the chocolate and-

You forget to tell him those aren't just any regular chocolates

" zayne-" your cut off by the sight of him, cheeks tinted pink hes already unwrapped his 4th chocolate already

" these chocolate... I never tasted something like his before..its quite unique ..it taste like Cherry's and grapes.." he popped the the chocolate in his mouth

You told zayne that these chocolate has wine infuse in them. That's why it's taste like grapes and a hit of cherry

each chocolate ball contains 13% alcohol and are meant to enjoy slowly with something salty like ham or cured meat

" how many did you have already? "

" this is my 4th one "

Thinking he has enough already for one night you take the box out of his hands and settled it on the table

You let your boyfriend stay for the night as he can't drive, having eaten a lot of chocolate

You dragged him to your bedroom as he's in a daze looking at you with such fondness. After his shower you have him some spare clothes he left you in case he's staying over

Zayne, siting on the edge of the bed watches you gently dry his hair. He hasn't spoken much since he ate the chocolates which made you a bit worried

" dear, is everything alright ? You seem at a daze, you haven't spoken much since you at the chocolates "

Zayne just pulled you on his lap and started giving you soft butterfly kisses on your face and neck before replying

" it's just that you seem so beautiful that I consider myself lucky to have met you "

"Your existing in my life is everything to me , I can't imagine my life without you by my side...''

"Your my the warmth to my heart, with you I experienced summer in snowy blizzard"

" you're like my precious flower that can survive. in the winter"

" also I want my flower to be careful and not hey hurt during mission . I don't want to see her coming to the hospital injured "

After sharing a moment with your beloved snowman both of you settled to bed , zayne spoons you closely in hin arms kissing the top of your head before whispering " goodnight "

Rafayel

Rafayel avoid drinking during his art exhibition. Especially when someone hands him some wine , wanting to toast him for his great success as young artists

Rafayel doesn't drink the wine as it might be spiked or something. But he except the glass and carefully examinen the wine before cheering with some business men and taking a sip

He's very careful with his surroundings, the moment he say you coming through he excuses himself to be with you

" you late miss body guard "

You apologize and explained that the wonderer you delt today took longer then you expected

" what's important now is that your here "

The art exhibition almost lasted for 4hours, you where by rafayel side the entire time as his request for making up to him for being late.

Rafayel having to meet a lot of people congratulate and toasting him for his newest work , grew more and more red as he takes sip after sip of his wine

Being by your boyfriend as he spoke with some important investors and buyers you noticed Rafayel getting less and less sober

Something wasn't right here, you felt uneasy why was there only wine served and not other drinks?

And the wine they give out isn't weak one either. You saw on the bottle it was 17% alcohol

Feeling worried you looked at Rafayel, you can feel Rafayel getting annoyed and wanted to leave as more people approach him and want to speak with him bout his art you decided its time to go

" let's us give you a toast, to our partner ship Mr. Rafayel ! " they raised there glass before Rafayel could take another sip you took his glass from him and-

" sorry gentlemens I'll drink on Rafayel behalf, he had enough for today " they understand and you leave with your boyfriend

You hold Rafayel hands the inter way out, Rafayel couldn't help but blush, admiring you as you took him away from those annoying people

You called Thomas telling him your taking Rafayel home as he's clearly getting drunk and it was probably someone plan wanting Rafayel to get drunk so they can write something about him and publishing it on the news.

Thomas understand and ended the art exhibition earlier then expected

You call a cab and headed to Rafayel house ( island )

You unluck his house and guide Rafayel inside

" you know what miss bodyguard , your the best bodyguard there is"

" without you my world would be full of black and greys "

" I miss you when your not around "

" I hate it when you keep me waiting "

" but I love it even when your late you try to make an effort to come see me and make it up to me "

" you're my special pearl from the deep sea"

You stayed with Rafayel for the night, the next morning thosmas blew up Rafayel phone asking him to check the news

The news about 'having a secret relationship with his bodyguard?' With a picture of the two of you holding has while waiting for a cab

Sylus

You don't even know how sylus got drunk or at least he looks like he's drunk . When you where at the bace you heard them coming back. So you decided to great them at the door and asked how it go

But you where met with sylus disheveled look like his been hit by a truck

" I'm going to my room don't bother me" sylus said passing through you

You ask luke and kierran about him as they just came from a business deal

You asked like and kieren if sylus drink got spiked . They laugh at you, you think the great leader of onychinus got his drink spiked and fell for it ?

It does sound ridiculous because you know he can handle his alcohol.

Like explain that sylus in hailed some gass that enemy planned , supposedly to make you weak and not able to think straight kinda like alcohol

" yea boss man got hit with ton of gass that's why he looks like that " kierran informed you

" don't worry boss won't go down that easily it will wear off in a couple of hours "

you headed straight to sylus bedroom to check on him but you go to the kitchen counter first to get two glasses of gin fiz that you prepared earlier

You don't know if it's a good idea or not but you already made them anyway

Holding two glass you couldn't knock on the door your about to call for sylus until the door open for you to come in

" didn't I say don't bother me?" stood beside his record player in a robe clearly stated he just got out of the shower

" but you still open the door for me " you settled the two glasses of gin fizz at the coffee table at taking as seat before turning to him

" I heard form like and kierran. How are you doing? Everything okay?"

He just sighed and pick up the glass and drinks it enjoying the refreshing drink before sitting next to you and shared about what happened

" have I ever told you when your with me on the meetings times goes faster? "

"But today was particularly slow bec you where to there so I told them to hurry it up as they where waisting my time. They didn't took that lightly so they grew a surprise attack "

" I was pleased as it turn out like that because I didn't needed them anyway "

" the moment the gass took a but affect on me on the ride to the bace my mind was occupied by you "

" I couldn't stop thinking about you "

" your laughter, your smile, you scent ,everything "

He finished his glass and looked at you, his eyes soft as he gently caress your cheek

" your everything to me..."

" without you I feel trapped in a cage , living out life without it's full potential"

"With you around, I like feel the chains around me being broken setting me free "

" you are my key to my cage..."

" my kitten, my sweetie, my miss hunter, my beloved...."

He's words are sweet and he ment everything he said but you couldnt help but tease him a bit

"Who are you and what have you don't to my sylus" you said you couldn't hold in your laugher .

Sylus just chuckled and shook his head .It was rare for sylus to be sharing his feelings and thoughts

" I wonder if it's the gun fizz fault or the gass you in heiled" you wonder tapping your chin

"Gues we'll never know the answer'' Sylus just took both your hand and gently lean in to kiss your lips

And took another

And another

And another

Before you giggle at him, removing you hand from his , you looped it around his neck before kissing him back

After you finish your glass sylus carried you to him bed , he wants to be sleeping next to you and waking up next you everyday and every night

He carefully lifted the blanket up and holds you tight before humming as soft tune that both of you fell asleep within minutes

[sweettea-and-honeybutter]

Take You There IV

Song that inspired this chapter...it was actually a few honestly

A/N: This was meant to come out yesterday, I just didn't realized how detailed I was gonna make it 🥲 I should know myself better than that by now. I barely proof read this, I pulled an all nighter with it cause ADHD hyper fixation aint no joke, so excuse any typos im too delirious rn to catch them. Also I had Back 2 Luv by Grimm Lyn on repeat for this chapter too 👀

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Reign Adisa (black female OC)

Warning: smut! fucking finally! because you've all been so patient 💕 and I just wanna say that its only up from here 🤭 now that they've finally done it?!?! How will they ever stop??

Word Count: 4,764

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Chapter 4

Reign followed Terry’s SUV through Houston’s winding night traffic, her foot itching to press harder on the gas whenever his tail lights flashed ahead. At every red light, she’d rev her engine playfully, catching his raised eyebrow in the rearview mirror and the hint of a smirk each time he glanced back at her. Her thoughts raced, and she squirmed in her seat, the A/C on high but doing little to cool the warmth of her anticipation.

When they finally pulled into his gated complex, Terry waited by the entrance, gesturing her through the gate and leading her to a spot next to his. He stepped out of his SUV, watching as she grabbed her things, including a sparkly pink “spennanight” bag that caught the light as she slung it over her shoulder.

"I am nothing if not a prepared woman, Terry," she said with a playful shrug, noticing the amused way he looked at her bag.

He took a step closer, his hand finding her waist with a possessive ease, fingers pressing just enough for her to feel the strength in his grip. His voice dropped as he leaned in. “Oh, I’m starting to see that Reign. And I like that… a lot.”

Without another word, he guided her toward the entrance, his hand firm on her waist as they walked. The energy between them was electric, sparking with tension, and Reign felt her breath catch at the intensity radiating from him. He’s just as needy, she can tell, he’s just better at masking it. Terry’s grip was a silent promise, one that sent a thrill through her as they stepped into the dim, private world of his building.

Even the elevator ride was excruciating. His grip on her kept her from swaying to the bland music playing overhead, forcing her to remain still as heat pooled between her thighs. Reign let out a soft whine, feeling her heartbeat race south, where her clit still felt ghosts of his touch. Terry smoothed his big hand from her waist, firmly down to cup her ass, shushing her as his touch grew deliberate, his deep voice doing little to calm her. 

“Patience baby girl, I won’t make you wait much longer I promise.” Reign let out the most dramatic sigh of relief when the elevator doors opened and practically skipped out into the hallway, Terry following close behind with an amused chuckle. He showed her to his door, unlocking it and entering first, scanning the familiar shadows as he switched on the lights. Reign stepped in and was immediately struck by the space. His loft fit him perfectly: strong, quietly confident, and magnetically stylish.

As soon as Reign moved further into his apartment, she was immediately met with Houston’s skyline, the industrial windows giving her a stunning panoramic view. His living room was divided by a dark leather couch that looked both inviting and like something he never actually used.  It faced an expensive looking suede ottoman that sat on top of a dark gray rug, softening up the feel of his sitting area. His large tv mounted on the wall was framed by a few minimalistic art prints in black and white, abstract and slightly edgy, yet tasteful.

Reign ran her fingers over the couch’s leather as she walked in, turning to face the rest of his apartment, noticing a dark sleek kitchen next to a spiral staircase that led to his lofted bedroom. His room looked like a cave from this angle behind the metal railing up there. She could imagine someone like him never actually wanting to leave a home this reclusive. 

And the smell—it was unmistakably him, a blend of sandalwood, whiskey, and something richly spicy that filled her senses the moment she walked in. Reign’s mouth watered as she took it all in, feeling like she’d walked into a private corner of Terry’s mind. She looked over her shoulder at him, and he watched her with a glint of pride in his eyes, clearly pleased with her reaction. 

"Your home is so nice, Terry. It really suits you,” she gave him a little smile gesturing to the shadows, “maybe a little too serious at first glance… but there’s something comforting about it."

Terry stepped closer, his gaze intense as he watched her move around more comfortably. "I like having you here, Reign." His voice was low, his words laced with a budding possessiveness that sent goosebumps racing across her skin. She noticed the way his fingers twitched as if he had to keep himself from reaching out to touch her right then.

She nodded, biting her lip, trying not to let her shy nature win over in this moment, not when it feels like it took her a lifetime to get here with him. She forced herself to hold his gaze, voice coming out breathless as she suggested, "why don’t I go get the shower started for us?"

Terry’s eyes darkened to a murky green, his stance relaxing as he nodded. "Upstairs to the left, I’ll be right behind you," he said, his voice thick with yearning.

With a final look, Reign headed for the spiral staircase, feeling his gaze attempt to undress her as she ascended, her heart pounding with each step.

~~~~~~~

Reign tied her braids up around themselves in a messy bun, her fingers trembling as she stripped off her clothes, her skin prickling at the rush of cool air as she leaned over to turn the shower on. Her glasses fogged as the heat rose around her, blurring the room in a soft haze. She could hear Terry moving around just on the other side of the bathroom door, and her entire body pulsed with the anticipation of him joining her. She grabbed her loofah and soap out of her bag she’d placed on the wide counter, and opened the shower door, stepping into the scalding water, letting it pour over her and coax the tension from her muscles.

She placed her glasses on the tiled shelf and turned towards the water, wetting her loofa and adding her sweet floral soap. Reign began to lather her skin softly, moaning at how sensitive her body was. She ran her soapy hands up to her neck, imagining Terry’s hands replacing her own, his warm lips finding the delicate spot behind her ear, kissing her there, and making her body melt against him.

Reign lathered her breasts, her fingers grazing over her pebbled nipples, and she called out his name sweetly. She pinched them gently and she grew impossibly wetter, letting  her hand drift lower down her body. The hot water cascaded over her curves as she trailed her loofah down her stomach, scrubbing gently across her thighs, imagining Terry’s firm grip there, his fingers pressing into her softness just hard enough to leave marks against her mahogany complexion.

The faint sound of music drifted through the door, a sensual beat that seemed to echo her pulse, and Reign leaned back against the cool glass wall. She lifted one leg, balancing it high against the opposing tiled wall, her muscles stretching as she held herself open to the hot water. The contrast of the cold glass against her back and the steaming water against her front heightened every sensation, her heart pounding at the idea of Terry stepping in to find her like this.

Reign moaned more uninhibited now, hooking one hand under her thigh to brace herself, and taking the fingers of her other hand to delicately open herself up, unwrapping her pussy like a gift as she spread her puffy lips, unveiling her clit. Her fingers mimicked the circles Terry made at the park, and a feverish desire made her standing knee buckle.

“Terry please…” she called to him louder, growing impatient, losing herself in pleasure he should be causing. Reign heard the bathroom door slam open and thud against the wall as cool air flooded in.

~~~~~~~

Terry was just trying to set the mood—a nice experience for them both, that’s all! Poor guy was running around lighting candles, tripping slightly as he yanked off his cargo pants, dropping his portable speaker when he caught her first moan. She didn’t need to see him this flustered, overwhelmed just by having her in his private space. Hell, it’d be over in 5 minutes if he didn’t get his shit together.

He shrugged off his shirt, sprayed a touch of cologne on his bed seeing as how she loved his scent, and tossed water bottles onto the side table. He was reaching to turn on the ceiling fan when he heard her again—her voice melodic, rising in pitch, like a siren calling him to drown in her depths.

Without realizing it, he was through the door, gaze zeroing in on the round curve of her ass pressed against the glass shower wall. Fuck. His needy girl, so lost in her own pleasure she hadn’t even waited for him. 

Terry actually couldn’t be bothered with anything else but going to her aid—not his boxers that were still snug on his hips, getting tighter as his dick swelled, not the speaker still thumping on his floor which would surely cause Ms. Sheila downstairs to cuss him out the next time she saw him—he was helplessly drawn to her as her energy anchored him to this moment.

Terry stalked forward, pushing the shower door open, barely registering the steaming water pelting his skin, coming to stand in the space her open legs created just for him. All words lodged in his throat as his intense gaze observed every little thing—the way her eyes were desperately squeezed shut, sweet whimpers leaving her where she bit her plump bottom lip harshly, her own nails digging into her thigh where she was holding it up against the wall, her other hand creating intoxicating wet sloshes where she thrusted two of her fingers deep into her pussy.

“Terry I need-” that was all it took to snap Terry out of the trance she put him in, hearing her voice whine his name.

“Shh baby I’m here,” he grabbed the back of her neck with one hand, bringing their wet lips to press together hungrily as his other hand replaced her own on her thigh, hoisting her leg up higher to hook around his waist. They both moaned into the heated kiss, tongues fighting for dominance, stealing each other's breath. Terry cursed against her lips when she clawed her nails into his back, pulling away from her only to dive to the crevice of her neck, leaving biting kisses that had her mewling sweetly for him.

“I know what you need baby girl,” he licked down her chest, bringing his hand from her neck to cup her breast, teasing her nipple with his soft lips as he looked up at her through his long wet lashes, “let me help you.” His tongue swirled around her nipple and Reign threw her head back as he sucked it into his hot mouth, arching her back to offer more of herself to him.

“Pleaseeee I need more Terry!” He hummed against her, moving to suck her other nipple and bite it softly, causing Reign to gasp, thigh trembling in his hand.

Terry kissed lower and lower down her soft body, making a silent promise to spend time kissing each of her tattoos later, when the need to satiate this hunger wasn’t so suffocating. He fell to his knees before her, wide shoulders forcing her standing leg to spread more, and he placed her thigh to rest heavily on his shoulder.

Terry pressed a fleeting kiss to her hard clit, his teeth grazing just enough to make her gasp. “Just so you know, Reign,” his voice deep and unyielding as he spoke, his hands gripping her hips to keep her steady. “the more you cum for me, the more you become mine. You ready for that?”

She didn’t get a chance to say a damn thing. She could only let out a sharp cry of relief as Terry’s thick lips wrapped around her clit, his tongue circling at a maddening pace and his groan of pleasure reverberated up into her body. He could drink her essence for days, her sweet warmth delighting his starving taste buds. Terry grabbed handfuls of her ass, squeezing hungrily and pressing his face harder into her, chasing her honey right to the source with his tongue. Reign’s moans echoed beautifully off every surface in the bathroom, literally music to his ears.

Terry kept his tongue in her pussy as he hooked his bicep around the thigh resting on his shoulder, bringing his thumb around to massage her clit. His eyes rolled back at the feeling of her pussy clenching around him, and he fisted himself out of his drenched boxers with his other hand, finally remembering the rushed state at which he joined her. He timed his strokes with the way his fingertips danced on her hard nub, pumping his dick firmly and moaning as she left more scratches on his back, grinding her pussy harder against his face.

“Sh-shiiit Terry! You eat my pussy sooo good baby, don't stop!” She grabbed the back of his head, wet body slipping against his hold on her as she chased those crashing waves.

Reign had lost all concepts of time and space and anything that wasn’t Terry’s persistent mouth on her and his pretty eyes boring into her whenever he could keep them open. She felt weightless, save for the heavy pulsing of her pussy seeking to drown him. Neither of them noticed the water growing cold, nor the ache in their muscles. All Reign knew is she was being ruined for anyone else who attempted to bring her to this high.

Squeaky obscenities left her mouth as Terry brought his lips back to her clit, sucking with a stronger pressure now, grunting into her as he palmed the swollen tip of his dick. “Fuck you’re gonna make me cum!” Terry moaned into her, his bright eyes blinking away the water droplets stuck to his lashes so he could see her better, wanting to imprint the sight of her orgasm to his memory for later use. “I’m gonna cum da-” her whole world shattered on his tongue, he could hardly hold on to her slick, wiggling body as she rode each coming wave, blessing him with more of her sweetness. 

She whimpered at the overstimulation of his sucking turing to soft kisses to her clit, her positively puffy lips, and all over her mound. His kisses didn’t stop as he eased her thigh off his shoulder, both of his strong hands massaging her legs lightly to get the blood circulating properly. Terry felt dizzy, drunk off her, never wanting his tongue to be rid of her unique flavor. 

Terry rose slowly, his lips trailing kisses up her trembling body, letting his hands steady her waist as she caught her breath. Reign sighed softly, her fingers brushing against his jaw to tilt his face up, her smile lazy and satisfied as she looked into his smoldering gaze.

“Baby,” she murmured, her voice still shaky, “if that’s what your mouth can do... I don’t know if I’m ready for the rest of you.”

Terry chuckled low, his lips curling into a wicked smirk. “Oh, you’ll take it. All of it,” he growled, his voice dripping with promise. “And you’ll thank me for it.” His thumb brushed tenderly along her jawline, a stark contrast to the dominance in his tone, and Reign felt her knees nearly buckle again. He pulled her to him for a kiss, letting her taste what was driving him crazy and she moaned, already getting flashbacks of his tongue in her.

Terry took a step back to stand directly under the spray of now icy water and Reign’s eyes flicked down. She laughed softly, her finger trailing playfully over the waistband of his boxers. “You’re over here tryna snatch my soul, and you’re still halfway dressed. Unacceptable.”

Terry tilted his head, amusement flickering in his gaze. “And what do you plan to do about it, Reign?”

She smirked, bending at the waist as her hands hooked under the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down slowly. “Guess I’ll have to fix that,” she murmured, the teasing rasp in her voice making him clench his jaw.

Terry’s dick sprang free, almost smacking her in the face, and her lips instinctively brushed against his tip, her tongue poking out curiously to taste the bead of precum leaking from him. Terry’s body jerked involuntarily and he stepped back quickly, his large hands gripping her shoulders gently to stop her and pull her back up. “Reign, if you do that,” he warned, his voice strained, “I won’t last. I’d rather be inside you when I give you my cum.”

Her eyes widened slightly, a mixture of surprise and satisfaction warming her features. Standing gracefully, she let her hands trail over his chest as she moved. “Alright then, let me help get you cleaned up,” she said softly, leaning in to press a sweet kiss to his lips.

Reign grabbed his soap and loofah, lathering it between her hands, her touch gentle and deliberate as she worked the suds across his broad shoulders. Her hands moved with care, tracing the lines of his muscles and washing him thoroughly, almost reverently.

The confinement of the shower made the moment feel cocooned in intimacy, their previous teasing replaced with something softer. Terry watched her through half-lidded eyes, the weight of her attention making him feel exposed in a way that had nothing to do with his nudity.

“Reign,” he said quietly, his voice full of something unspoken. She looked up at him, her hands pausing on his chest, and for a moment, neither of them moved, the fading steam curling around them like a protective veil.

“Yeah?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“You feel…so good here. I don’t want this to just be tonight.”

Her heart skipped a beat, and she pressed her forehead to his chest, letting the water cascade over them as she whispered, “Then don’t let it be.”

~~~~~~~

Terry didn’t give them much time to dry off; his need for her was impossible to ignore, a force driving him beyond reason. He stepped out of the shower first, water glistening on his skin as he wrapped a fluffy towel low around his waist. Turning to her, his hands were gentle but firm as he gestured for her to step forward, wrapping another towel snugly around her torso.

As soon as the towel was secure, his lips captured hers, hot and insistent, tasting the lingering steam between them. With a deliberate grace, he guided her backward out of the bathroom, his large hands framing her waist as though she might disappear if he let go. When the back of her legs hit the edge of his bed, he expertly nudged his speaker aside with his foot, the motion smooth and instinctual, all his focus locked on her.

Reign pulled away from the kiss, settling herself gently onto his bed. Her hands smoothed over the dark green duvet, fingers tracing the soft fabric as she took in the mood Terry had created with the soft glow of the candles and the sensual thumping music. The room smelled of his cologne, the air thick with unspoken desire.  Her gaze flickered back to him—he stood there between her legs, his eyes dark with an intensity that made her stomach flutter. She noticed his dick twitch under the towel, and she bit her lip to stifle a smile. He couldn't help himself. She looked so damn beautiful lying there, waiting for him.

Reign’s lips curved into a teasing smile as she tugged at the edge of his towel, freeing his length, finally able to get an up close and personal view of him. His whole body was absolutely beautiful, she doesn’t know why she was so surprised to find his dick was too as it hung heavily against his thigh, and she could practically see his heartbeat from here with how thick his veins are. 

She looked up at him through innocently fluttering lashes, her voice low and playful. “You’ve kept me waiting long enough.” Terry reached forward to gently tug at her own towel, freeing her soft curves and beautifully decorated skin.

“Do you want to use a co-” she cut him off with a sure shake of her head, placing her warm hands on his thighs, feeling them flex as he kneeled over her on to the bed, prompting her to scoot backwards to make space for him.

“Are you on birth-” he stopped talking with a laugh, watching her smile and nod her head, laying back on his pillows, spreading her legs wide for him. 

“Don’t make me beg Terry, not again.” He wouldn’t be that cruel with her, yet. Without further prompt, he bent over Reign, hooking a strong bicep around her torso and lifted her against his body, causing her to squeak in surprise. She could feel his tip nudge against her clit, almost slipping inside of her from how wet she was. Terry grabbed two pillows from the head of his bed, placed them under her lower back, and gently set her back down. This way he could stay more elevated on his knees, and her pussy would be right where he needed her. Oh he was not about to play with her at all.

Terry leaned over Reign to give her a wet, sweet kiss, grabbing her wrist and guiding her hands to hold her thighs open for him. Reign silently obeyed, moaning into the kiss as she felt his dick glide over her slick pussy, his length hot and demanding, and she felt her heart start to race faster. Terry broke the kiss, whispering lowly against her lips “keep these hands right here okay? Keep yourself open for me, pretty girl.”

She bit her lip and nodded, watching as Terry straightened back into his kneel, sturdy thighs flexing dangerously. One of his hands coming on top of hers, applying more pressure to her thigh, spreading her open more, the other hand smacking his dick against her puffy pussy, causing her to yelp at how sensitive her clit still was from earlier. Terry couldn’t take his eyes off her, the soft pink peeking out from the brown petals of her lips, it was so fucking pretty, just like his girl. He began to rock his hips against her, his thighs kissing hers as he grinded his dick through her pussy lips with more purpose.

“Remember what I said, Reign? Hmm?” He slapped his tip heavily on her clit to get her attention and Reign nodded frantically, squeezing her eyes shut as she squeaked out—

“The more I cum, the more I’m yours daddy!” Terry groaned at that, at her remembering, at her calling him that already, at her wetness coating his dick and dripping down his length.

“That’s my good fucking girl.” His voice was deep, a growl in the back of his throat as he finally slipped into her. The sensation of her tightness wrapped around him made his eyes roll back for a moment—he was struggling to hold himself together.

She moaned, pulling him deeper as she clenched around him, a natural instinct as her body tried to pull him in. “Let me in, baby girl.” He didn’t ask, and his shallow thrusts seemed to possess a rhythm of their own. His hands moved to her hips, gripping them tightly as he watched her body react. Her tits bounced lightly with each thrust, and his mouth watered at the sight.

Reign bit her lip, a look of strained concentration on her face as she tried to relax her walls. He felt so damn good, filling her completely, stretching her in ways that made her burn. The pillows under her tilted her hips up, causing him to repeatedly hit her g spot.  She struggled to hold her composure, the pleasure building in her core.

Terry’s eyes locked on where they connected, primal instinct surging within him. He opened his mouth, not asking but needing to see it—drooling on her pussy as he watched his cock slide into her, slick with her wetness. She moaned loudly, her body tightening at the sensation, her pussy opening up even more as he slowly sank deeper.

“Fucking hell, this pussy feels so good, baby,” he groaned. He slid his hand down, rubbing the extra wetness onto her clit, rewarding her for letting him in, for giving him more.

Eyes hazed and misty, she gripped her thighs tighter, trying to do as he said and keep her legs up and open. She groaned, her body trembling as she fought to hold back another orgasm. Reign bit her lip, muffling an agonized moan at his slow, fluid thrusts.  Terry noticed his pretty girl trying to hold back.

“I’ve been wanting to be here…” his voice deeper and husky from his visceral need for her, and Reigns moans increased in volume at how she could somehow feel his voice in the depth of her being, right where his tip repeatedly kissed her cervix. 

“…in this moment with you, for too long Reign.” He could hardly speak anymore, the feeling of her warm pussy squeezing around him in response to his words, it was too much. Reign moaned louder, eyes shut tightly at his increased thrusting, getting lost in all he was giving her. 

“Don’t hold back shit from me, baby girl. Give me everything.” And Terry watched the dam break, listened to the uninhibited moans she gifted him, the squeal of his name as she gushed and came around his length. 

“Yesss” Terry hissed at her, smiling darkly as his fingers sped up on her clit, and he leaned over her, her thighs now pressed against his chest, causing him to dig impossibly deeper. “Keep going baby, give me more” 

She missed the crazed look in his eyes, the way this moment solidified her as his new drug. Poor thing was too busy making a mess of his dick, pussy creaming and squeezing, leaking her cum. 

"Say thank you for making me cum daddy." Terry started circling his hips every time he bottomed out in her, dragging her orgasm out with a harsh grind.

"Thank you daddy! Fuck its too much baby I—"

Terry cut her off by leaning over her further, her ankles now resting on his broad shoulders. He turned his head to the side and, before he could stop himself, he leaned down, kissing and sucking on her toes. Her squeals hit his ears like music, the sudden shock of the sensation making her pussy gush even more. Everything about her was so natural and so pretty, and Terry found himself hungry for every inch of her—nothing was off limits to his tongue. He could feel his balls tightening; he wouldn’t last much longer.

“Where do you want my cum pretty girl?” his thrusts were sloppy, his breathing was ragged. He stared into her pretty eyes, his brows furrowed with barely restrained ecstasy.

“I want you to nut in me baby.” her sweet voice asking him to mark her walls as his own was too much for him to question if this was a good idea, he simply obeyed his pretty girl’s command with a loud groan, dropping his head to the crook of her neck and slowing his thrusts until he was twitching spurt after spurt of cum deep into her. 

Reign ran her hands up and down his back, smoothing over the scratches she left there earlier, trying to ignore the ache in her hip joints at feeling more of his weight rest heavily on her body. The warmth blossoming inside of her as he grew softer within her left her feeling content as exhaustion settled in. After a moment, Terry propped himself up on his forearms, giving Reign room to move her legs further down his body, wrapping around his narrow hips. His piercing eyes implored her own, leaning down to kiss her nose softly and smiling at her sweet laugh. 

She brought her hand down to lightly trace the edges of the nicely healing tattoo she’d given him. A new song playing from his speaker caught her attention and he watched that playful glint return to her eyes. 

“Hmm I guess this means you’re mine now too, huh soldier?” Her teasing smile softened as she noticed the earnest look of his own.

“I think I’ve always been yours Reign,” the burning intensity in his eyes left her breathless, “I just didn’t know it yet.”

~~~~~~~~

I'm gonna go take a nap 🥲 let me know what you think! A warning, chapter 5 is way worse than this. I really had so much to get out of my system 💀

Taglist: @megamindsecretlair @slutsareteacherstoo @liatreads @sageispunk @teddybeerz @eviescloset @planetblaque @soft-persephone @violetmuses @miyuhpapayuh @iterum-incipi @blackgurlnhermoods @helloncrocs @blyffe @meannaim @nun0ir @onherereading @eilujion @maria-gab-rielle @gg-trini @gwenda-fav @violetlovezzz @keyaho @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @honeytoffee @avoidthings @brattyfics @abeautifulmindexposed @blowmymbackout @kumkaniudaku @pocketsizedpanther @mysecretbleedingheart @amyhennessyhouse @tvchi @aristasworld @stabrichie @geriixox @diaries-of-me

[nodutra19]

I'll be damned if I said I understood this series, but I'll throw something in about what Kanba sharing the apple with Shoma means. As stated, this series is very much about love.

Now I ask you, what love is there in a world that puts continuous prices on human lives, as Sanetoshi and private health insurance do throughout the show? What love is there in a cult?

In short, I think the apple is a collective love.

We're often raised with the notion of "Blood is thicker than water." But really, it's "The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb." What it means is, the connections you choose to forge say more about you than the ones into which you were born. But it's also more complex than that. What you're born into shapes who you are and even what choices you make. Oftentimes, people who were abused as children will go on to abuse other people. And yet there are also many people who were raised with loving families who still go on to commit terrible things, and there exist many who are the inverse, people who were raised by terrible parents who still choose to do good. It's both true that we are molded by our surroundings, but we still make choices at our own will (if we ignore the extortion and violence of poverty).

We love to say "Disturb the comforted, comfort the disturbed," but the truth is we are all mixes of it. I'm NB but I was still raised a dude. I had to work out a lot of what I had been taught. And while I never physically harmed anyone, I still feel some dread and culpability hearing what women go through. As sympathetic and understanding as I am, I'm not beyond reproach. I "get it" from an outsider's perspective. I can still relate to anyone regardless of category, but I also must keep in mind how different experiences can be. I was still raised with the comfort of not being sexualized as a child, as little girls often are (obviously boys still face SV, I'm just saying that the experience isn't the same). I still get disturbed in a particular way when I watch something like Revolutionary Girl Utena or Moral Orel, because these are things I don't personally face. Even though I don't commit terrible acts like Akio and the residents of Moralton, I still have to confront these things in order to participate in its dismantling. I still have to reach out. The sacrifice is my comfort and previous understanding in order to grow as a person and help and understand others.

There's a fundamental contradiction to the human condition. The Takakura parents were seemingly normal and almost texbookly loving, and yet they were part of the Kiga group, and Kenzan went on to commit an act of terror.

This "comfort" I had, the "privilege" of more than likely not facing SV if I were to take a walk out at night, also comes at a "price": I had to conform to the ideas of "boy" and "man" which did nothing but stifle me.

I think the apple represents unconditional love, a Tolstoyan love, one not bound by personal biases. Tabuki had to conform to his mother's idea of talent, intelligence, while Yuri had to conform to her father's idea of beauty. But of course, these are all impossible standards set upon fluid, abstract concepts. They are inherently inhuman ideals born not from a love of humanity but the exaltation of a non-existent archetype, of a past that never existed, hence the dealing with the economic crisis.

Sanetoshi doesn't hold a gun to Kanba's head but he still extorts him to do his bidding, to carry out another cycle of violence for a fiery cleansing of the world. Sanetoshi permits Himari to live not because she is human, but because someone is willing to work for him in exchange. No one in this society is given that unconditional love. The condition is you must conform to the cogs which make the system turn.

Kanba asked nothing of Shoma when he split the apple and handed the other half to him.

A child is born with no state of mind Blind to the ways of mankind God is smilin' on you but he's frownin' too Because only God knows what you'll go through You'll grow in the ghetto livin' second-rate And your eyes will sing a song of deep hate The places you play and where you stay Looks like one great big alleyway You'll admire all the number-book takers Thugs, pimps and pushers and the big money-makers ---The Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five

For as self-centered as children are due to their very nature, they're still purer, in a sense, than most adults. I've always had anger problems due to the environment in which I was raised, but people still call me empathetic and caring, because I still make that effort. Kanba made a grand gesture by offering Shoma the apple. It shows he cares. And there was no condition to it. Kanba asked for nothing in exchange. He saw a human being in need of help like him, and when he was blessed, he decided to share. As horse-girl-anthy writes, Kanba would later go on to resent Shoma due to the fact Shoma had such a loving family and yet Shoma disowned his parents upon learning of their original sin. Kanba, the orphan taken into the Takakura family, resented how Shoma disowned them because he saw it as ungrateful and selfish because Shoma possessed that of which Kanba had been dispossessed. For as illogical as it is, you and I can't fully blame him. We understand where he's coming from in spite of the Walter White of it all with his trapping and strapping.

There are many differences between them as little children and as we find them as teenagers in the show, but one of the main differences is that neither one of them had been shaped by society yet. That's why Shoma leant a hand to Himari, why Momoka leant a hand to Tabuki. We're told we're inherently selfish and cruel. I'd say humans aren't any one thing, neither inherently good nor evil. To subscribe to any essentialism is to erase any collective responsibility we have about the world and for each other.

I still have trouble understanding the sins of the father current of the series, but I think the ultimate punishment in life is how finite our existences are.

"Whenever I start thinking of my love for a person, I am in the habit of immediately drawing radii from my love - from my heart, from the tender nucleus of a personal matter- to monstrously remote points of the universe. Something impels me to measure the consciousness of my love against such unimaginable and incalculable things as the behaviour of nebulae (whose very remoteness seems a form of insanity), the dreadful pitfalls of eternity, the unknowledgeable beyond the unknown, the helplessness, the cold, the sickening involutions and interpenetrations of space and time." ---Vladimir Nabokov Speak, Memory

No matter what we do, we'll die. Death is the one guarantee in life. The greatest irony of life is the intensity with which we love, with which we burn, and yet it will all turn to vapors and disappear. We construct things like God in order to give our suffering meaning. But we also imbue God with our authority. God oftentimes becomes a thought-terminating cliche and ad hoc justification. But atheists also have similar mental workings, hence why the atheist movement in the U.S became reactionary after 9/11.

For as much as Sanetoshi talks about the cruelty of the world, for as right as he is to bemoan businessmen and the cogs of society, he is not a solution in himself. Atheists have a point in criticizing Christians and Christianity, but they fall into the same trappings. The Christian man says women belong in the kitchen because God decreed it so. The atheist says women belong in the kitchen because she has a womb. Both, in spite of their seeming opposition, believe in capitalism and complimentarianism and other institutions.

I think this is why Kanba ended up going Kiga rather than Shoma. You'd expect the biological son whose parents participated in the original incident to go that route, but no, it was Kanba. Everyone is fighting against the cruelty of the world and life itself. The core struggle is finding meaning and love. But we all suffer the collective punishment of death, of eventually turning to ash. We just also live in a world filled with inequality and alienation.

Shoma felt responsible, because as a descendant he kind of is. What his parents did is his cross to bear. But he's the one who made Himari a Takakura. The Penguindrum ended up being the siblings' bond. This means what they had to sacrifice in order to keep Himari alive was the end of their bond. And yet in spite of that, in spite of the fact that they no longer know each other, a remnant remains, a spirit of their love. That's why the stuffed animal remains. The sacrifice was hard and unideal, but Kanba and Shoma truly cared for Himari. The true test, the true exhibition of their love, of their sharing of the apple, was sacrificing their bond in order to give her a normal life. There is no exchange there. There is no reward. They wanted to lift the curse of their parents and paid the price. And yet even in that do-over, Himari feels the spirit of that love, hence why she cries.

She feels love beyond a death she knows nothing about, a love that transcends space and time. That's the pure love we all seek. Kanba sharing the apple was the start of this. I think that's why that scene isn't revealed until so close to the end. It's meant to be paralleled.

I hope I made sense, My mind has been sloshing with this series, so I hope I managed to give my thoughts some sensical form.

Night on the Galactic Railroad, or the Apple, the Scorpion, and the Stars

From a series on Mawaru Penguindrum’s literary influences.

This place is cursed with spoilers.

Night on the Galactic Railroad (1927) is a novella by Kenji Miyazawa. It takes place in the fictional fairy tale country resembling Italy. There, on the night of the annual Centuarus Festival, two boys, Giovanni and Campanella, are whisked away on the titular Galactic Railroad to tour the heavens. While on this journey, they confront the nature of human connection, transience, and sacrifice. At the end of the story, Giovanni and Campanella part ways. Campanella was on the train because he drowned during the festival and was on his way to the afterlife, while Giovanni, still alive, was allowed on the journey with his friend.

Mawaru Penguindrum specifically seems to be influenced by the 1985 anime adaptation directed by Gisaburo Sugii. It’s a faithful adaptation, but it plays up the story’s somber parts. The darkness at Penguindrum’s core seems borrowed from this version of the story rather than the original. Shouma and Kanba resemble Giovanni and Campanella as realized in this version.

Giovanni (right) and Campanella (left) on the Galactic Railroad.

Like Giovanni, Shouma is associated with the color blue and has a sensitive, demure personality. Like Campanella, Kanba is associated with red and is determined, distant, but ultimately devoted to his friends. Unlike NotGR, however, Shouma and Kanba depart together at the end. It seems to me as if Ikuhara has dwelt on the sadness of Giovanni and Campanella’s parting at the end of the original story and, in Penguindrum, created a version where they could be together in the end. Penguindrum also explicitly references Kenji Miyazawa in its first and last scenes. Near the beginning of the first episode, a pair of children are walking out side the Takakura’s home discussing what the apple means in NotGR. You can tell because they mention Campanella and someone named Kenji - the novella’s author Kenji Miyazawa. This exact conversation repeats in the final moments of the last episode, but this time the boys have Shouma and Kanba’s hair colors and the audience follows them as they keep walking into the stars.

THE SCORPION FIRE

Night on the Galactic Railroad also contains the explanation for that scorpion metaphor! A lot of people get stuck on this - Kanba is referred to as a scorpion several times throughout Penguindrum, and allusions are made to him burning up. This is actually direct reference to NotGR, where the story of the burning scorpion exists as a fable told to the main characters as they’re on the train. You can see it in this clip:

“"My father told me its story: A long time ago in a field there lived a scorpion that ate other bugs by using its tale to catch them. Then one day he found himself cornered by a weasel. Fearing for his life, he ran but could not escape it. Suddenly, he fell into a well and, unable to climb out, began to drown. He started to pray then, saying: 

”‘Oh, God. How many lives have I stolen to survive? Yet when it came my turn to be eaten by the weasel, I selfishly ran away. And for what? What a waste my life has been! If only I’d let the weasel eat me, I could have helped him live another day. God, please hear my prayer. Even if my life has been meaningless, let my death be of help to others. Burn my body so that it may become a beacon, to light the way for others as they search for true happiness.’

“The scorpion’s prayer was answered, and his body became a beautiful crimson flame that shot up into the night sky. There he burns to this day. My father was telling the truth…”

From Night on the Galactic Railroad, translation by Julianne Neville. 

The fable of the scorpion fire is about sacrifice. The scorpion, who lived his life as a foul predator, faces something more powerful than him - the inevitability of death - and regrets that, after a life of heedless consumption, he couldn’t die in a way that aided the proliferation of life. The gods hear his prayers and set him on fire, turning him into the red star Antares, heart of the constellation scorpio, whose light aids life. 

From episode 12. Kanba offers his life to the Princess of the Crystal’s in exchange for Himari’s and, due to the purity of his sacrifice, it is acceptable. Unlike later on in the series, here Kanba is exhibiting the true nature of sacrifice.

This fable gives insight into Kanba’s motivations but not his actions. While the scorpion discovers his kinship with all life, Kanba is rushing headlong towards a sacrifice that nobody wants but him. Kanba views himself as a predator and wants his final, massive act of predation - the terrorist attack - to lead to some concrete good:  extending Himari’s life. His role as a man of action rather than a man of reflection (Shouma) binds him to Sanetoshi’s will, which offers a convenient means of achieving his goal. But those outs don’t exist in the real world, and these justifications can’t be made ahead of time. Shouma knew this and Kanba should have known. Maybe that’s why it’s Shouma, the brother with a more intuitive understanding of sacrifice, who bursts into flames and not Kanba, who fades away. Kanba’s identification with the scorpion represents misguided, emotionally selfish sacrifice - egoism - while Shouma, Ringo, and Momoka’s association with the purer flame represents true, transcendent sacrifice. 

From episode 24. Ringo casting the spell (“Let’s share the fruit of fate!”) and subjecting herself to the scorpion fire. 

THE APPLE

There’s a scene late in the novella where Giovanni and Campanella encounter some people who died on the Titanic. The trio consists of two children and their governor, who allowed them all to die to make room for more people on the lifeboat. These people tell Giovanni and Campanella about the scorpion fire, and this is also where apples come into play. A lighthouse keeper, traveling down the train, gives them some apples, which they disperse amongst themselves. The film actually makes it so that the flocks of birds that they see flying outside the windows turn into the apples - something that wasn’t present in the original story. Apples as a metaphor for live sacrificing itself for the sustenance of more life seems to originate here, since that wasn’t tied to the apples in the original story. 

Christianity, apples symbolize knowledge and defilement. NotGR however, reclaims that image. Here, they represent people understanding their limitations as individuals and accepting community - and the necessity of making sacrifices for humanity’s greater good -  as a way to make up for their flaws. NotGR stresses over and over again that people value humanity or some abstract conception of “life” over themselves, and that this path leads to profound spiritual contentment. Penguindrum borrows this idea and the apple symbolism wholeheartedly, but emphasizes valuing one’s interpersonal relationships as a proxy for loving all life. 

From episode 20. Himari reinterprets the biblical Fall of Man as a good thing because it allowed humanity to experience connection and joy, however transient, alongside pain. 

One of the biggest mysteries left in Penguindrum to me is what Kanba sharing the apple with Shouma represents. I know what happened between Shouma/Himari and Kanba/Himari. Shouma brought the abandoned Himari into his family and Himari brought Kanba into the family after his father’s death. But what happened between Kanba and Shouma? How did Kanba have to save Shouma by sharing his fruit of fate? It’s left purely abstract - Shouma and Kanba were starving, Kanba shared his fruit, and both were saved by the gesture. Maybe Kanba helped Shouma by being assertive and dedicated in situations where he wasn’t naturally inclined towards that? Like Giovanni and Campanella, Kanba and Shouma have complementary existences. Giovanni couldn’t exist on his own without adopting some of Campanella’s traits, while Kanba and Shouma, although they acquiesce to each other a bit, ultimately reaffirm their paired existence. I opened this up to discussion with some people on twitter and Bryan Baxter suggested that the two boxes Kanba and Shouma are in during episodes 23 and 24 are their mothers’ wombs, and that by sharing the fruit of fate they became spiritual twins (they were born on the same day). Yoni Linder suggested that Kanba helped Shouma survive the KIGA group’s brainwashing when they were children. It is odd that Shouma, the Takakura actually born into the cult, is the one least susceptible to it.

The idea that there’s something beyond what we consider life is central to NotGR, which uses Christian imagery and often seems overtly Christian in its themes. Kenji Miyazawa was a devout practitioner of Nichiren Buddhism, but like many Japanese people his life was saturated with Christian imagery and scraps of biblical scripture. Christianity exists and is portrayed positively in NotGR, but neither Giovanni nor Campanella seem to be practitioners. When Giovanni and the children get into an argument over whose god is “real,” the tutor reconciles them by raising the possibility that their gods are one and the same and reminding them that the point of religion is true faith in what you believe. NotGR is thus a neutral but positive synthesis of Christian and Buddhist images towards a more generically humanist message.

“"And who says he’s the real God? I’ll be he’s a fake!”

“How would you know? Maybe the God you believe in is the fake.”

“No! He’s the real one!”

“Then tell me, what kind of God is your God?” asked the young man with a gentle smile.

“Well… to be honest, I’m not quite sure… but I do know he is the one true God,” Giovanni replied.

“Of course he is. There’s only one true God.“ 

"And my God is that one!”

“I agree. I can only pray that the two of you are seeing us off before that true God now,” the young man said, clasping his hands together. Kaoru also clasped her hands together.

Everyone was sad to be parting, and Giovanni was about to burst into tears.“

From Night on the Galactic Railroad, translation by Julianne Neville. 

Over time, it becomes clearer and clearer that one of the railroad’s purposes is to deliver people to the afterlife, two of which are represented by giant glowing crosses. "Dying for love” thus means something more concrete in NotGR than it does in Penguindrum. There’s an actual reward for doing it - entrance into heaven. The same isn’t true in Penguindrum, where the existence of an afterlife is much more abstract. Sanetoshi and Momoka were humans with some supernatural powers who died and became ghosts, but that form of afterlife seems much more a curse than a reward. In the last episode, Momoka vanishes from this world for good through some sort of opening, but exactly where she goes is unknown. Penguindrum’s final shot is of Shouma and Kanba, having died for love, walking into the stars. While characters do allude to god, the show as a whole seems nonreligious, more concerned with taking the aspects of stories it deems meaningful and applying them towards a new, secular humanist message. Here, god is synonymous with fate, chance, or destiny - the circumstances outside human control that one is subjected to and dictate life. So what is Kenji saying? I think he’s saying that humanity’s survival up to this point has been due to our ability to love each other, to willingly sacrifice for the greater good, and that this is the foundation for human existence. That's where everything really begins. 

[katerinadeannika]

Notes after watching the full Behind the Scenes of Agatha All Along posted on Nov 13th 2024:

There was no way they could have written an ending for Agatha that did not involve death.

I have been saying this to all the naysayers from the get-go, to all the people making posts about being done or fed up or angry about the ending, or how it makes no sense, or how they should have could have done something different and been fine story wise. The behind the scenes confirmed my point.

The main through line for the entire show was the theme of Death; of Agatha never being able to escape it. Where she both loves and hates death and Death, the concept and the woman. Where she's been running from Death for centuries, but Death came for her son and was always coming for her the second she slowed down.

Every completed trial meant someone would die. Billy created the road based off the rumors and witch lore. And the only rumors out in the witch world were that someone knew someone else's aunt/relative/friend who had undertaken the road and never returned. In reality, that was Agatha's doing. But to Billy, it meant that somehow, the Road took its toll on them. And when the coven traveled it, the Road exacted the same price that Billy expected it to. Death or near death at every trial.

The first trial killed Sharon. The second gave Alice her power back and then Billy almost died (and probably would have if Agatha hadn't pleaded with Rio on his behalf, if the coven hadn't worked together, and if Billy hadn't made the Road with his own powers. Some interesting combo of the all the above). The third trial killed Alice who was trying to save Agatha. And the fourth trial killed Lilia and the Salem Seven.

Jac said she intentionally wrote it where Death was a very real thing that everyone in the show had to come to terms with.

And for Jen Kale, her gift was already dead, and she was supposed to resurrect it and take her own power back. She escaped because after Agatha's trial, the fifth one, someone DID die.

And this time it was Agatha.

Agatha had avoided it every other time by either being saved, or having the rest of the coven as fodder for death.

But in the end, when she could have left once again, she must decide who has to pay the final price for her invention of the Road. The Road that she has used to kill and lure countless witches to their doom over the past few centuries.

She can save the boy she has come to love and mentor after the loss of her son. Or, she can leave once again. And so she makes the final moment of self sacrifice, and chooses the final victim of the Road: Herself

She has been running from Death for centuries.

For Agatha's story to have a thematic ending that wasn't cheap or manufactured, she had to stay true to that through-line. That's how writing works. You find your themes. You write about and explore them. And you have a final consequence that determines if it's a positive arc or a negative arc for your main character.

They chose for Agatha to have a positive arc. A moment of final growth. To end the show on her finally making the right decision, even at the cost of the life she's sustained through countless centuries and via countless deaths.

There was no way the show could have ended any other way.

PS: There is no excuse to hate on it. At all.

It doesn't meet any of the criteria for the 'Bury your gays' trope. It doesn't even end Agatha’s story. But it does provide expertly written, well thought out, thematically poignant endings for all the characters in a way that satisfies their personal journey—throughout the show and the centuries.

And I am so glad they made it, and that it ended how it did. I wouldn’t want it any other way. As a writer. As an editor. As a viewer. And as a lesbian.

Agatha All Along is a masterpiece in TV writing. And I can’t wait for more.

PSS: Watch the Behind the Scenes on youtube that Marvel just posted. It’s super good and includes all sorts of info to help with fic writing and just general understanding of the writing and show creation. Also lots of Kathryn Hahn and Aubrey Plaza in interviews!

TLDR: Quit complaining and griping about the ending. It was written beautifully. The reason you got so invested is because of all the heavy death elements throughout that made things mean something. Embrace it. Or find media where you were the target audience. Cause if you couldn’t handle something well written that ends like this, you weren’t the target audience. And that’s okay. But move on before you keep griping and causing issues with the community and the cast.

[planetpedri]

hey queen! Could you do a angst of Pau cubarsi? Pau and reader having an argument before going to his family gathering. Pau’s sister noticed that reader is quite upset and talks with Pau about it. When they return home, they’ll talk about it and everything! 🫶🏼

Coming clean — Pau Cubarsí.

Pairing: Pau Cubarsí x Fem!Reader

Summary: An unresolved argument with Pau had ruined your whole night. Luckily for you, Irene is right there to help you get Pau to come clean.

Word count: 1.17k

Disclaimer/s: arguing , angst to resolved ending.

A/N: it’s 3:45 am and i can’t sleep so here is this! + hi Bea! how about you try to end a fucking post w out it ending in a kiss???🤦‍♀️

The car ride to Pau’s parent’s house was silent. No music, no talking, just pure and tense, silence. The lingering anger from the argument that had only happened ten minutes ago was still fresh.

Even when you arrived, at least a foot apart, you still hadn’t talked. You separated from each other instantly; Pau finding his cousins and you wandering around aimlessly.

Irene watched as you arrived, she could sense that something was off when instead of finding her or her parents, you milled around the food table.

She pushed off the counter she was leaning against and made her way towards you. When Irene called out your name, you plopped a grape into your mouth before turning to face her with a forced smile.

“Irene! Hi!” Your expression falters when you see the way she was looking at you—pity. “What?”

“Let’s go take a walk, yeah?”

Your eyes dart to Pau, who was busy conversing with his cousins. “Okay, yeah. Where to?”

Looking around, the girl points to the back door. “My mom’s flowers started to bloom, want to take a look?” Subtle. Very, very subtle, Irene.

Lips pulling into a thin line, you nod. Irene spins on her heels and marches her way towards the door. You pass Pau, but he doesn’t bother looking in your direction, though you knew he saw you by the tick of his jaw.

Trying not to scoff, you take a deep breath and follow Irene out the door. The spring air hits you comfortingly and the view of Mrs.Cubarsí’s flower garden brings a genuine smile to your face.

“It’s really improved since the last time I was here.” You comment, bending down to sniff one of the vibrant flowers.

Irene hums in agreement. “So, what happened with you and Pau?” When your head snaps in her direction, she chuckles. “Sorry, I just noticed you two were unusually distant and you looked upset.”

You let out a quiet, “oh!” Before you continue. “We argued. It’s a communication problem.” You wave your hand as if to dismiss the problem, but a butter taste lingers on your tongue.

“Okay… tell me about it? Pau is usually an open book, or at least, he used to be.”

You snort at the last part. “Used to be, yeah. Not anymore. For some reason, he’s been holding things back recently, and oh! Yesterday, I went to hold his hand and he—well, he pushed his hand back into his pocket.” You point at the house, though not directly to wherever Pau probably was. “Him avoiding affection? Not normal.”

Irene’s forehead creases in confusion. Pau had never, not once, refused to show you affection. In fact, he was always seeking it out. “Okay, yeah, weird. What did he say when you tried to talk to him?”

You couldn’t help but scoff, “he said that I was ‘reading too much into things’ and that I was, ‘being dramatic’. I’m staring to think—“ Your mouth clamps shut, you couldn’t say that.

Giving you a look, Irene urges you to continue. “Think..?”

“That he’s..” You run your hand over your mouth, “that maybe he’s falling out of love. It’s stupid, I know, but I can’t help but assume, y’know?”

Frowning, Irene nods in understanding. “He loves you, i’m sure of it. He’s just being difficult. Maybe you two should leave early, talk it out?” She pauses, “or I can give him a talking to.”

Your eyes widen, “no! No. Do not talk to him, i’ll figure it out. Just.. need to figure out what to say first.”

“Let’s go back to the party and you contemplate while we stuff our faces, perhaps?”

“That sounds like a brilliant idea.”

When the gathering was over and Pau was driving you back home, you play with the hem of your skirt. “Pau?” You speak quietly, not sparing him a glance.

Pau turns in your direction momentarily, offering you a short, “hm?”

“Can we talk.. please?”

No matter how upset, or annoyed Pau maybe be, he couldn’t resist the pleading tone in your voice. “I guess.” He answers, “what do you want to talk about?”

“Why you’re upset with me. I mean, before our argument. Clearly I did something to hurt you, or maybe you just..” Your voice fades into nothing, scared to speak.

“Just what?” He doesn’t comment on the parts before that, so you know you definitely did something wrong.

You pick at the lace harder, “I know it’s probably me reaching, but, I just thought that maybe you are like—“ You were tripping over words, too embarrassed to speak them out loud. Forcing yourself to come clean, you take a breath, “maybe you were falling out of love.”

The car lurches to a halt, right at a red light. Pau’s head whips in your direction, “what? No! Jesus, baby, no! Not that! I love you, I do.”

His words of reassurance made you feel a sense of relief, but still, your theories about upsetting him were only becoming easier to believe. “I love you too, but, my question still stands. What did I do to upset you, and how do I make it right?”

As Pau begins to drive again, he sighs. “The other day, when we were having dinner with the guys and their girlfriends, why did you lean away from me when I tried to kiss you?”

You did that?

Genuine surprise takes over your face. “Wait, what did I do? Shit, Pau, I didn’t even realize.”

His bottom lip tugs between his teeth as he turns into your driveway. “Are you sure? Because it felt intentional.” His words had bite to them, whether he meant to or not.

“Seriously, I would’ve never done that intentionally. Is that why you’ve been so withdrawn?” You frown, leaning your head back against the headrest and unbuckling while Pau parks.

He nods shamefully, “sorry, I just got upset. I was being a dick when I should have just talked to you about it. I’m sorry.” He couldn’t meet your eyes, to annoyed with himself to face you.

“Pau.” You sigh out, “look at me.”

He does just that, meeting your eyes with a pained look. “I’m sorry.”

“I know. You can’t do this again, though.” You give him a warning tone, “and you owe me, big time.”

Nodding, Pau grabs your hand, giving it a tight squeeze. “After my next game, we should go on a date. Anywhere you want to go, i’ll take you.”

Tapping your chin, you ponder the idea. “How about a movie night? I want alone time, and you will be watching every movie I chose, got it? Oh, and please bring snacks.”

A smile forms on Pau’s lips, causing one to grown on yours. “Anything you want. Make a list, i’ll stop by the store on the way here.”

Sitting up and gathering your things, you nod. “Will do! Goodnight, I love you.”

“Goodnight, I love you.” Pau leans over, meeting your lips in a soft kiss.

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