#even if they never outright said the thing about potential

[do-you-know-this-adhd-character]

Do you know this (noncanon) ADHD character?

Evidence below the cut!

Hoo, ok, so Bobby is a character that's been handled by a lot of different writers and a lot of them tend to default to a "ditzy/unintelligent" take when handling him, but the thing is that Bobby is creative and clever with his abilities, and a CPA. Bobby can be easily distracted and a bit flighty, but for me theres two aspects that read most truly as his having ADHD: one being that he often has the role of the class clown, but he's a nuanced character with a lot more going on who often uses that class clown persona as a defense, or as a tool to raise morale. He's far more observant than people give him credit for. Finally, idk if you've seen that post going around about how ADHD kids are always pushed to "fulfil their potential" and this is very closely what happens with Bobby in the comics. He is dismissed and largely written off as a class clown and a slacker (despite his creative uses of/precise control of his abilities) with a few pushes for him to "realize his potential" but as soon as people realize he's an Omega level mutant this ramps up even more with people constantly calling him lazy and a slacker even when he actually does deliver on his abilities.

[delulustateofmind]

Can My Friend Join?

Your boyfriend wants his murderer of a best friend to join your relationship. You'll do that for him, right?

Yan!SatoSugu x Reader

Part two

TW: Yandere Behaviors, dubcon/noncon?, Manipulation, SatoSugu, Potential grammatical/spelling errors, oral/fingering (f! receiving), Trapping/love bombing. MDNI

WC: 5.2k

You see, it wasn’t totally unlike your boyfriend to make crazy decisions.

Satoru was rash, impulsive, yet completely and utterly in love with you in a way that made it hard to say no to him. And he always knew how to work that to his advantage. You’d let him get away with just about anything—like buying a penthouse in Shibuya without even stepping foot in it, or whisking you off on spontaneous trips for “work” that had your boss threatening to fire you every time you gave him a last-minute call about your absence.

Crazy decisions were his specialty, after all. Including the craziest one of all: dating you, a non sorcerer, that was not a well-kept secret from his clan.

And now, his most recent decision was leaving you staring at him in stunned disbelief.

“Come on, baby, he’s going to therapy,” Satoru murmured into your ear, his arms snug around your waist as he rested his chin on your shoulder. His voice was soft, almost coaxing, as he peppered gentle kisses along the curve of your neck. “You remember Sugu, right? You even mentioned you had a little crush on him before we started dating.”

Suguru Geto. The man who’d slaughtered a village, started a cult, and declared genocide on nonsorcerers like you.

But now, according to Satoru, he was “better.” Redeemed, even. Whatever that meant. He wasn’t a deranged cult leader anymore, apparently. Therapy had fixed him. Or at least, that’s what Satoru was claiming with his usual breezy confidence.

“My love,” you began softly, setting the tea you’d been preparing down to turn and face him. His cerulean eyes shone with that familiar affection, the corners crinkling slightly as he gazed down at you like you hung the moon. It made your chest ache. “I know you two… had a thing. But why does he need to be a part of our relationship?”

You tried to keep your tone gentle, like you were trying to reason with him. Because, honestly, you were.

Satoru tilted his head, his grin widening just enough to tell you he’d been prepared for this question. “Mmm, well,” he started, the teasing lilt of his voice softening. “You were there for me, weren’t you? You’ve kept me grounded—saved me, even.” He leaned in to nuzzle against your cheek. “I figured… maybe you could do the same for him. Help him down a better path, you know? Keep an eye on him.”

Your heart sank.

“And,” he added with a sheepish laugh, his blush deepening as his hand rubbed the back of his neck, “well, he was actually the one who suggested it.”

That had your stomach twisting uncomfortably. You searched his face for answers, for some sign that this wasn’t as serious as it sounded. But all you found was that lovesick smile of his.

And you knew.

Satoru still had feelings for Suguru. He’d never said it outright, but the signs were there. The way his voice softened when he spoke of him. The wistful, almost mournful glint in his eyes whenever Suguru’s name came up. And, of course, the times he’d accidentally murmured Suguru’s name in moments of intimacy with you.

Your throat felt tight.

“Satoru…” You struggled to find the words, to balance the storm of emotions swirling in your chest. Jealousy. Confusion. Heartbreak. And, strangely enough, pity.

“It won’t change anything between us,” he said quickly, like he could see your doubts forming. His hands cupped your face, his thumbs brushing soothingly against your skin. “I promise. You’re my person—my love. I just… I can’t let him go again. Not like before.”

You swallowed hard, your voice barely above a whisper. “And what if I can’t do this? What if I can’t��� share you?”

Satoru’s expression softened, his usual playful confidence replaced with something raw and pleading. “Please,” he murmured, his voice quieter than you’d ever heard it. It wasn’t like him to plead. To beg. “Just think about it, okay? You won’t be home alone as much anymore when I’m out on missions. With Suguru back, there’ll be two strongest sorcerers. That means I won’t have to work or be on call as much. I’m thinking about us, baby.”

His words were so earnest, so filled with affection, that they pressed against your chest like a weight. You should’ve voiced your opinions, should’ve argued, but the guilt crept in before you could. Satoru had done so much for you—letting you live with him rent-free, covering your schooling, and showering you with a kind of love that had felt impossible in a world where you were so much weaker than him.

How could you say no to him? Not after everything.

So, what if you were allowing some murderer into your relationship? Satoru said he was better now. Satoru loved you. He wouldn’t steer you wrong… right?

You bit your lip, glancing away before nodding hesitantly. “Can we… take things slow, Toru?” Your voice was soft, almost unsure, as you sheepishly met his gaze.

Satoru’s face lit up with relief, his cerulean eyes shining so brightly it was almost blinding. “Oh, of course, baby. As slow as you need to. I know I can be a bit… eager, heh,” he said with a nervous laugh, his hands cupping your cheeks tenderly. Then, with a playful grin, he squished them together, molding your lips into silly fishy shapes.

“There it is! Cute as ever,” he teased, leaning closer, his voice softer now. “But I still love you. You know that, right?”

You nodded automatically, leaning into his touch despite the unease swirling in your stomach. Perhaps, you were overthinking this. Relationships need a bit of spice, right?

“I know,” you murmured, forcing a small smile. “I love you too.”

The words almost came automatically, yet your anxiety continued to ring alarming bells.

He grinned, his usual teasing confidence returning as he kissed your forehead. “That’s my baby. I knew you’d understand.”

And so, within a week, Suguru Geto moved in.

It was awkward at first. You weren’t sure how to act around him—this man who carried a dark, complicated history yet exuded a calm, almost disarming aura. Offering shy smiles felt like the extent of your bravery, and more often than not, you retreated to the sanctuary of your bedroom.

At least Suguru had the decency to move into the guest room initially. That small gesture was a relief in itself. And thankfully, with Satoru and Suguru being sorcerers, you were rarely alone with him. At least not yet.

But Suguru was... considerate. You couldn’t deny that. He had a quiet, almost effortless charm, and while you had your issues—big issues—you couldn’t ignore the fact that he was a handsome, beautiful man.

“Ah, do you need help?” Suguru asked one day, his deep voice breaking the silence as he spotted you reaching for the Christmas decorations tucked away on the highest shelf of the closet.

You froze for a moment, clutching at the edge of the shelf. “No, I’ll be alright… thank you,” you murmured, your voice almost too shy.

Suguru tilted his head, his dark eyes softening as he took a step closer. “It’s no trouble. Here.” Without waiting for permission, he reached up effortlessly, his height making quick work of retrieving the box.

You thanked him quietly, clutching the box as you avoided his gaze. His lips quirked into a faint smile, but he said nothing, stepping back to give you space.

Then there were the times he helped without hesitation, like during grocery trips.

Satoru would inevitably dart off down the aisles, hunting for sweets or whatever caught his attention. Suguru, on the other hand, stuck to your side, the picture of calm efficiency. He’d scan the list you held, nodding thoughtfully before reaching for items on the shelves—always grabbing your favorite brands without you needing to say a word.

“You cook often, don’t you?” he remarked once, glancing at the cart as he placed a box of your preferred pasta into it.

“Uh, yeah,” you replied, startled by how observant he was. “It’s… kind of relaxing.”

He hummed in agreement, his expression neutral but not unkind. “I can see that. I’ll have to try some of your cooking sometime.”

The comment left you flustered, unsure how to respond. Satoru would’ve teased you mercilessly, but Suguru simply kept moving, scanning the shelves like he wasn’t even aware of the small storm brewing in your chest.

It was moments like these—small, thoughtful gestures and quiet interactions—that left you unsettled. Suguru wasn’t what you expected. You’d braced yourself for someone dangerous, cold, someone you couldn’t trust. But instead, he was... kind. Maybe too kind.

And that was what unnerved you the most.

Because every time you caught his lingering gaze or noticed the way he seemed to effortlessly fit into your routines, you couldn’t help but wonder: Was he doing this for Satoru? Or was he doing it for you?

It started off slow. Like a light sprinkle before the storm. 

Satoru was still the same as ever—the fun-loving boyfriend, full of laughter and mischief. He’d press kisses to your cheek, wrap you in his arms, and tease you in that playful way that made your heart flutter. But lately, his words carried a strange edge, a hint of something you couldn’t quite place.

“Maybe start showing Sugu a bit of love,” he teased one evening, nuzzling against your neck as you brushed your teeth. “He’s trying, y’know. Don’t be difficult, baby.”

You froze for a moment, the brush stilling in your hand as you quickly spit out the toothpaste. That… hurt. His tone was light, but the implication stung. Was he disappointed in you?

Still, you managed a tight smile and nodded, swallowing your unease. “I’ll try.”

Satoru grinned, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple. “That’s my baby.”

But then Suguru began to be more… involved.

It wasn’t anything overt at first. He’d sit quietly in the living room while you watched TV, occasionally commenting on the plot like a polite guest. Not as the boyfriend he was supposed to be, that you didn’t want him to be. He’d help with household chores without being asked, his quiet competence a stark contrast to Satoru’s chaotic energy.

But there was something about the way his presence lingered—like a shadow stretching further than it should.

“Tired?” he asked one evening, his voice like honey as you struggled to keep your eyes open on the couch. You felt him sit down beside you, close enough that his warmth seeped into your side.

You nodded, your words slurring slightly. “Yeah… long day.”

Suguru reached out, his fingers brushing against your temple as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The touch was gentle, almost tender, but his dark eyes… they hid something.

“You should rest more,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “Satoru worries about you.”

You blinked, struggling to process his words. “He does?”

Suguru smiled faintly, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Of course. We both do.”

The way he said it—we—sent a strange chill down your spine.

As the days passed, the small, unsettling moments began to pile up.

Suguru had a way of always being there, always watching. When you left a room, you’d turn to find his gaze following you. When you spoke, he listened so intently it felt like he was dissecting your every word.

And Satoru, who’d always been possessive in his teasing way, started pushing boundaries in ways he hadn’t before.

One evening, as you tried to excuse yourself to your bedroom after dinner, Satoru caught your wrist, pulling you back to the living room where Suguru sat quietly.

“Don’t run off so quick,” he said, his grin wide but his grip firm. “We’re a family now, aren’t we? Stay with us for a bit.”

Suguru looked up from his tea, his dark eyes locking onto yours. “Satoru’s right,” he said softly, his lips curving into a small, almost inviting smile. “It’s nice when we’re all together.”

The way they looked at you—Satoru’s bright gaze brimming with love, Suguru’s dark eyes filled with something deeper, darker—made you feel trapped.

And then, Satoru had to leave.

He was off to Kenya for a mission with a student, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the apartment felt… quieter. You’d thought, perhaps foolishly, that Suguru would be sent off somewhere too, leaving you to breathe for a moment, to process.

But no.

Suguru stayed.

The first few nights felt strange, the absence of Satoru’s boundless energy a sharp contrast to Suguru’s quiet, deliberate presence. He wasn’t pushy—if anything, he gave you more space than usual, offering soft smiles and polite conversation. But there was always something in the air, something unspoken, something that made the silence between you feel heavier than it should.

And then, one night, as you lay in what felt like a bed too big without Satoru’s warmth beside you, you felt it—a hand wrapping around your waist, firm yet gentle, pulling you back against a solid chest.

Your breath hitched as a woodsy, earthy scent filled your nose, inky dark hair brushing against your shoulders.

Your heart sank once again, something it’s been doing a little too much as of late. 

“You’re awake,” Suguru murmured softly, his voice warm and low, like he’d been waiting for you to notice. His lips ghosted against your cheek in a feather-light kiss, making your skin prickle. “Satoru said I should join you. Keep you safe.”

Safe? The word felt foreign, almost cruel, as if it was meant to comfort you when it did the exact opposite.

“Suguru,” you said, your voice trembling as you tried to pull away, but his arm around your waist tightened, holding you in place.

“Shh,” he soothed, his breath warm against your ear. “It’s okay. I know it feels strange, but Satoru trusts me to look after you. He said you get lonely when he’s away.”

Your stomach twisted. This wasn’t Satoru’s doing—at least, not entirely. This was Suguru, using Satoru’s words, his trust, to inch closer, to blur the lines you’d been desperately trying to hold onto.

“You don’t have to do this,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

His hand moved, sliding up to rest lightly against your ribs, his touch slow and deliberate. “I want to,” he murmured. “You deserve someone to care for you, even when Satoru can’t. That’s what we agreed on, isn’t it?”

You froze. Agreed on?

The realization hit you like a wave, cold and suffocating. This wasn’t just Satoru’s idea. This wasn’t just about keeping you “safe” or “happy.” This was part of something bigger, something the two of them had decided for you, without you.

“I don’t think—” you started, but Suguru cut you off, his voice still maddeningly calm.

“You don’t have to think,” he said softly, almost kindly, as his fingers brushed against your jaw, tilting your head slightly so he could press a kiss to your temple. “Just go to sleep, yeah?”

But the way his grip on you remained firm, the way his body pressed so closely against yours, made it abundantly clear that this wasn’t a request.

Your heart pounded in your chest, a frantic rhythm that you were sure he could feel where his arm wrapped around your waist. Go to sleep? How could you possibly sleep with this man lying so close, his breath steady against the back of your neck, his warmth invading every inch of your space?

Suguru shifted slightly, his arm pulling you tighter against him as though sensing your discomfort. “You’re tense,” he murmured, his tone carrying a strange gentleness. “It’s okay to relax. I’m here.”

His words sent shivers down your body and tendrils of anxiety in your mind, and you squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself to calm down. But how could you relax when your instincts screamed that something was wrong? That something about him, about this situation, was profoundly off?

You tried to focus on your breathing, hoping it would drown out the sound of your racing thoughts. But every inhale carried the faint, woodsy scent of him—so different from Satoru’s familiar, comforting smell. It was calming, yet suffocating all at once.

A small voice crept in your mind, you shouldn’t feel calm. 

Suguru hummed softly, a low, melodic sound that sent another wave of unease through you. “You smell nice,” he said, almost absentmindedly. His nose brushed against your hair, and you froze as he inhaled deeply. “Like home.”

The words were meant to be reassuring, you thought. But they felt wrong, invasive, like he was claiming a piece of you that wasn’t his to take.

You wanted to say something—anything—but the words caught in your throat. And in that silence, Suguru’s hand shifted, moving from your ribs to rest lightly against your stomach, the weight of it grounding and possessive.

“You’re safe with me,” he whispered, his voice softer now, almost tender. Almost loving. “I’ll keep you safe. Just sleep, okay?”

Your throat tightened, and your breathing came faster as you tried to steady yourself. Safe. He kept using that word, as though repeating it would make it true. As if he were tricking your mind into thinking it was true. 

But how could you feel safe when every instinct in your body screamed at you to run?

Suguru’s grip didn’t waver, and the steady rhythm of his breathing filled the silence, lulling you into a state of uneasy stillness. You didn’t know how long you lay there, rigid and wide-eyed, before exhaustion began to weigh on you.

Your body betrayed you before your mind could catch up. Slowly, reluctantly, your eyes fluttered shut, and your breathing evened out.

You stirred awake to a sensation so surreal, so tender, that in your dreamlike haze, you convinced yourself it was Satoru.

The soft brush of hair between your thighs, a large, calloused hand rested on the fat of your thighs, keeping your legs open, as your eyes were slowly opening from sleep. 

You felt his tongue drift up you sopping slit, moving to circle around your bundle of nerves, a whine escaping your lips as you shifted a little only for a warm hand to press against your abdomen to keep you from moving as he continued to dive deep into your cunt, his tongue switching from spelling a name on your sensitive clit to fucking your tight dripping heat. You couldn’t help but muffle your moans by biting the sheets. 

“Toru…” You whimpered out in pathetic small breaths. “Feels…s’good” it wasn’t like Satoru to be this in-depth with eating you out. It felt like he was mapping out your entire insides as he slowly inserted a finger into your dripping mess. 

You felt a nip on your inner thigh, causing a whine and for you to finally open your eyes. 

“Wrong boyfriend,” Suguru murmured, his voice a low, velvety hum that sent a shiver rippling down your spine. His dark eyes gleamed with amusement as he hovered just above your pussy that clenched around his fat finger that curled in just the right spot, your gummy walls clenching, no, greedily sucking in. His lips curled into a faint, knowing smirk. 

He tilted his head, his inky hair brushing against your trembling thighs as he leaned back down, his movements deliberate, controlled, as though savoring every moment of your reaction. His breath ghosted over your poor pussy, slowly licking up the mess you were leaking as he pushed his finger knuckle deep inside you, before slowly, teasingly adding another one of his thick fingers inside. Compared to Satoru’s thin long fingers, his was different, it was almost mind-numbing as your poor cunny tightened at the sudden intrusion of another finger.  

“Suguru” You panted out. “I-” and a gasp left your lips as you felt him curl both his fingers. Hitting that sweet spot that made you see stars, no colors, all sorts of stars and colors, as he pried you open. Your mouth left agape as you tried to think of anything besides the pleasure and the sickening wet sounds that were filling the bedroom. 

You shouldn’t be enjoying this. You mind sang to you. But god, did it feel so good. 

“Mmmm, such a sweet pussy” he said softly before lightly sucking on your nub, earning sweet moans and whispers from your lips “Want me to stop, pretty?”  he said softly as he released your poor abused little clit with a loud pop. Offering a small kitten lick as you were trying to form a coherent sentence. 

“Come on, baby girl, use your words f’me.” His fingers slipping out of your slickened folds that caused you to look down at him with half-lidded eyes and a pout. You were so fucked.  

“You need me don’t you? Need me to help you?” He said softly as he pulled away, his big warm hand cupping your heat as you bucked your hips, his thumb lightly grazing your clit, toying with it softly. His chin glistened with your juices as he moved close to your face. 

It didn’t help that he was so devastatingly attractive—so effortlessly pretty, yet undeniably handsome. Every sharp line of his jaw, every curve of his lips, and the way his dark eyes seemed to pierce straight through you made it impossible to look away, even when you wanted to. Even when you knew you should.

“Give me a kiss, just one little kiss, and then I’ll let you cum. Okay, pretty?” Suguru hummed softly, his gaze lingering on your plump, red lips, his voice almost syrupy in its coaxing. His dark eyes sparkled with amusement as he took in the teary-eyed expression you offered him. “Can you do that for me?”

You wanted to fight him. Wanted to kick him off, shove him away, bite that insufferable smirk right off his face.

But he made you feel so good.

You were warm, fuzzy, and completely disconnected from yourself. Every logical thought dissolved into the haze of pleasure he’d wrapped you in. Your body betrayed you, nodding mindlessly like some desperate, needy thing you hardly recognized.

“One kiss?” you murmured meekly, your voice trembling.

Suguru’s grin widened, predatory and oh-so smug. “Just one,” he purred, watching as your eyes flickered away from him.

That’s when you saw it.

The camera.

Nestled discreetly in the corner of the room, its cold, unblinking lens stared back at you. Your stomach dropped, the haze clearing just enough for panic to creep in.

Suguru followed your gaze, and when he saw what had caught your attention, he chuckled—a low, dark sound that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Oh,” he said smoothly, as though you’d stumbled upon a delightful surprise. “You found the camera.” He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against yours, his voice a whisper now. “Say hi to Toru.”

Before you could react, his lips crashed against yours, the kiss fierce and consuming, stealing the breath from your lungs. It wasn’t gentle—it was possessive, demanding, a declaration that left no room for resistance. His hand slid to the back of your neck, holding you in place as his tongue brushed against yours, coaxing a response you couldn’t deny.

Every fleeting thought of resistance melted under the heat of his touch, leaving you utterly at his mercy, the world narrowing to the overwhelming intensity of him.

That fuzzy, dreamlike feeling reeled in your mind, spinning you further into a haze. The high you were on didn’t feel natural—it was too consuming, too overwhelming. Even after you came for the nth time, your body still burned with need, craving more despite the exhaustion creeping into your limbs.

You glanced at Suguru through the haze, his expression soft, almost tender, as he leaned down to scoop you into his arms. His strength was effortless, and the gentle smile that tugged at his lips felt entirely out of place with the aching mess he’d left you in.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” he hummed softly, cradling you as though you weighed nothing.

Your body refused to cooperate, too spent and trembling to do anything but lay limply in his embrace. Resigning yourself to your inability to fight, you rested your head against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath beneath your cheek. It was almost comforting if not for the gnawing unease beneath the surface of your mind.

As he carried you to the bathroom, his voice broke the silence, low and soothing. “Satoru’s coming home today,” he said, his tone so calm, so casual, that it sent a chill down your spine. “He’s going to be so proud of the progress we made, yeah?”

The words hung in the air, their weight suffocating.

The day stretched on in a blur, and though Suguru remained by your side, tending to you with a gentleness that felt far too intimate, you couldn’t shake the words he’d spoken.

Satoru’s coming home today. He’s going to be so proud of the progress we made.

Each passing moment only tightened the knot in your stomach, the uneasy anticipation building to a crescendo by the time the front door opened with Satoru’s familiar sing-song call.

“My sweet sugar bears, I’m home!”

His voice echoed through the apartment, bright and teasing as always, but it carried a weight that hadn’t been there before. You stiffened, clutching the edges of the blanket Suguru had wrapped around you as you sat on the couch, your heart pounding in your chest.

Suguru, seated beside you with a calm, almost serene expression, stood and moved to greet him. “Welcome back,” he said, his tone warm and inviting.

Satoru appeared moments later, his bright cerulean eyes sweeping over the room before landing on you. His grin widened, mischievous and utterly unapologetic.

“There’s my girl,” he said, striding over and crouching in front of you. His hand reached out to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing gently against your skin. “Missed you.”

You swallowed hard, unsure of what to say as his gaze lingered on you, almost too intently.

Then he turned his attention to Suguru, who was now leaning casually against the wall, his arms crossed as he watched the interaction unfold.

“And you,” Satoru said, his grin taking on a sharper edge. “You really outdid yourself this time, Sugu.”

Suguru inclined his head slightly, the faintest trace of a smirk tugging at his lips. “I’m glad you think so. She was… responsive.”

Your stomach twisted at the way they spoke, as if you weren’t even there—or worse, as if you were some sort of project they’d been collaborating on.

Satoru’s attention flicked back to you, and his grin softened into something almost affectionate. “I loved the video,” he said, his voice low as he leaned closer, his breath brushing against your ear. “You looked so perfect for him, baby. It made me jealous.”

Your blood ran cold.

“The—video?” you managed to whisper, your voice trembling as your mind raced to catch up.

Satoru tilted his head, his grin widening again as he straightened. “Oh, come on, don’t play coy now,” he teased, reaching out to ruffle your hair like you were some pet he was fond of. “You knew about the camera, didn’t you? Suguru said you even looked right at it.”

Suguru’s chuckle was low, almost inaudible, but it caused your chest to tighten. Throat to clench up, you suddenly wanted to cry. 

“We’ll have to make more next time,” Satoru continued, his tone light, almost playful, like he was discussing something as mundane as dinner plans. His grin stretched wide, carefree, but his words carried a weight that left your chest tight. “But don’t worry—I’ll be in the next one. No way I’m missing out again.”

The floor beneath you might as well have disappeared. The weight of their words pressed down on you, heavy and suffocating, and your heart hammered as panic welled in your chest.

“No,” you said, your voice trembling. “No, this isn’t… This isn’t right. You can’t just—”

Suguru stepped forward, his movements unhurried, deliberate. His dark eyes locked onto yours, unreadable yet brimming with a quiet intensity that made your skin prickle. He stopped just behind Satoru, his presence looming, steady.

“We’re a team, after all,” he said softly, his voice smooth and calm, like he was explaining something obvious. “It’s only fair we share.”

“No,” you said again, louder this time. The word came out sharp, cutting through the air like a blade, though your hands trembled as you clenched them into fists. “This isn’t fair. This isn’t normal, Satoru, Suguru—this isn’t love.”

For a moment, the room seemed to freeze, the weight of your words hanging in the tense silence.

Suguru’s lips curled into a faint smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Is that what you think?” he asked, his tone soft, almost disappointed. He tilted his head slightly, his dark hair spilling over his shoulder as he regarded you with something akin to pity. “You think this isn’t love?”

“Yes,” you said, though the tremor in your voice betrayed your confidence. “This isn’t right. You’re asking too much—this isn’t something I can give.”

Suguru took another step closer, his gaze unwavering. “And what do you think love is, then?” he asked, his voice low, coaxing. “Is it not trust? Devotion? Sacrifice?” He leaned in slightly, his presence suffocating as his words wrapped around you like a vice. “After everything Satoru and I have done for you, everything we’ve given you as of late—are you really saying we don’t deserve your love in return?”

Your breath caught in your throat, the weight of his words sinking into your chest like stones. You had to swallow back your tears. “That’s not what I—”

“But it is,” Suguru interrupted, his voice never rising, never breaking its calm, steady cadence. “You’re saying no to us. To him. To me. After everything we’ve done to keep you safe, to give you the life you have now.”

You’d be nothing without them. You almost owe your life to Satoru alone. 

His words twisted in your mind, sharp and cutting, making you question the thoughts you’d clung to just moments before. He stepped even closer, his dark eyes softening, his tone shifting to something almost tender. “Do you really think it’s fair to push us away when all we want is to love you? To care for you? To protect you?”

Your lips parted, but the words died in your throat.

Satoru crouched slightly to meet your gaze, his cerulean eyes wide and impossibly soft. “Don’t you love me?” he asked, his voice heartbreakingly gentle. “Because if you do, baby, then you can love us.”

Suguru nodded, his smile warming into something deceptively kind. “We’re not asking for much,” he murmured. “Just for you to trust us. To let us take care of you. Isn’t that what love is about?”

The room spun, their words swirling in your mind, drowning out the panic that had gripped you moments before. Their voices, so soothing, so insistent, chipped away at your resolve, making you question everything you thought you knew.

“Shh, you’re cryin’,” Satoru said softly, brushing his fingers against your cheek, his touch gentle as he wiped your hot frustrated tears. “Don’t overthink it, baby. Just let us love you. That’s all we want.”

Suguru’s hand came to rest lightly on your shoulder, his grip firm but not forceful, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “You don’t want to disappoint us, do you? Satoru has given you everything. Don’t you think you owe us this much?”

The words struck deep, guilt twisting in your chest as you struggled to breathe.

They loved you. This is love, right?

[leonawriter]

Thinking (again? Has anyone done this?) of Joker saying Akechi's name during Fear status and literally everyone assumes it's because he's flashing back to the interrogation and his near death experience.

Those present try to push Akechi away from him, when the affects seem to linger, and Akechi himself at first assumes this is the case as well.

They assume that the way Joker is looking around frantically is because he's still sure Akechi is "after him."

Except when Crow loses patience and slaps him out of it with a clawed hand and everyone (aside from Sumire) expects the worst, Joker doesn't freak out and run.

No, he relaxes and instantly, sheepishly, starts to calm down.

Akechi brings it up again when he self-destructively tries to push Akira away by reminding him of it, saying "a part of you is still scared of me, don't deny it-" only for that to make Akira laugh, angry.

He isn't scared OF Akechi. He isn't saying he never had been - it was terrifying, potentially facing death while powerless. But no.

When he's hit by Fear, the worst thing it dredges up is how he felt after Futaba said she couldn't find his signal, that he'd just heard Akechi die behind a barrier he couldn't get past.

It's the worst possible thing for Akechi to hear. It scares him, that trying to push Akira away won't work, that Maruki has his life as such a high value bargaining chip in Joker's eyes and Joker doesn't even know it, and it scares him in general that someone might actually care about him so much.

It means that Akechi outright knows that on 2/2 he's forcing Akira to create another new worst memory of losing him again.

And when he wakes up alive, it adds even more pressure to the idea of letting Akira know he's fine - because if he admits it, then he has to face the ordeal of being loved so much, so powerfully.

[twstfanblog]

OMIGOD REQUEST ARE OPEN???? Could you please write about how the twst housewardens + Jamil would be like with a reader who is/was a courtesan?

Small tangent but courtesans were women selling relationships more than their bodies. The higher ones would be more likely to have themselves get bought out before sleeping with a costumer or would only do it in order to lower their value so someone they loved could.

But you can honestly write whatever, courtesan or good ol’ prostitution, I don’t care.

TYSM!!!!!!!!!!

Courtesan Reader Reactions

Housewardens+Jamil X Reader

Warnings: Talk of potential sex trafficking

Riddle

Lowkey spat out his tea.

In his head, courtesans were prostitutes so he was super concerned about what your home life was like to get you into such a field.

Once you explain, he's still on edge but he understands better. He'd be uncomfortable with anyone being friendly around you for a bit and you may have to talk to him about it.

But in the end, once he has a more concrete understanding, he'd be more interested and comfortable to ask you questions on what your daily shift would have been like. He's fully invested if you learned any type of tea etiquette.

Leona

"Perfect."

Jokingly throws money at you and tells you to be his pillow for the next four hours. (He then naps on you for four hours).

He's royalty, so he's aware of what a courtesan is and what they do. Its only over time does he get more concerned on what you were expected to do with such a job.

He doesn't outright ask, but he does start asking more questions about your original world and why someone like you had to get into the courtsean business.

Gets a little more possessive but also lets you know he doesn't plan on letting you go anytime soon. So you don't even have to think of getting a job like that again.

Azul

Froze for half a second before asking you to clarify what a courtsean is.

He's got a bit of info, just from him wanting to learn about the surface world and the company he keeps. Lowkey just concerned before his worries are eased at knowing what your job was.

Wants to know WHY you were a courtsean of all things, but doesn't shame you at all. Honestly pretty interested in what skills you gained from the job since it's mainly networking at the base of it.

Shyly states that it'd only make sense for his future partner to be as smooth talking as him after all...

Kalim

"Oh cool! A few of my moms were courtseans before they married my dad."

Honestly, the most unborthered on this list. He asks so many questions and wants to know what your daily shift was like. Were you treated well? Did you get all of the gifts you deserve? He bets you were so pretty.

Fucker nearly puts his foot in his mouth asking to rent you for the night. He's trying to ask you on a date, please ignore him blushing.

It's up to you if you want to give him the customer treatment for the date. He is gonna buy you the whole outfit for the outing and start sending you gifts, though.

Jamil

"Ah. Well...you do have the personality for it..."

Another mostly unbothered boy. Only gets concerned when he thinks about it for a few more minutes. Wants to make sure you were never forced into doing more physical relationship acts. He's fully aware how slippery the slope can be.

So long as you were safe and happy in your job, he wouldn't bring too much fuss about it. Does joke at times if he should be gifting you more presents to show his feelings.

Does ask for your help at times if Kalim has more difficult guests. While he tends to making sure the party goes smoothly from the shadows, you can use your skills to dazzle guests and keep the crowd under control.

Vil

Chokes for a bit before asking you to repeat what you said.

One of the more concerned. First and foremost, makes sure you were never forced into doing anything that made you uncomfortable.

Once he's assured you were never harmed, he questions why was courtsean the job you picked to have? Like, yes, you're gorgeous and a delightful conversationalist. So is he and he's not selling his company to strangers.

Somehow, ends up lecturing you but loops it back into asking about what your skill set was. He'd honestly love to have a first-hand experience on being charmed by you.

Idia

"What like a fancy hooker-"

Shoved his whole leg into his mouth. Started apologizing the second he realized what he just said. Tried to despawn that very moment.

Once he wasn't trying to turn himself into a blackhole, he asked you to explain more (He's literally only heard courtsean in his porn games and it's very clear they were just...fancy hookers or affair partners).

In the end, he's actually really impressed. It's a whole career on being a maxed level extrovert. Goes quiet for a bit before asking if you'd help him make a game on trying to be the best courtsean. It'd be a skill management type game with outfit boosts and maybe a romance plot- (Asking you out by making an RPG)

Malleus

Instantly concerned.

He's royalty, courtseans were mainly known to be affair partners of court officials and not always willingly. So worried that you were at worst sold to a court official in your original world or in some other way forced.

Only relaxed when you explain it never went to that level and that you were only in the entertaining and conversation part of the job. Breathed a sigh of relief, then stated that it made sense. You were wonderful to talk to.

Starts sending you gifts. When you ask about them, he apologizes, saying he should pay you properly for your craft, friendship or not. You make him feel seen and heard, so he will be gifting you an emerald necklace and earring set worth five million thaumarks each-

[ineffable-romantics]

Some thoughts on why and how I believe Crowley and Aziraphale's relationship would incorporate sex/why I do not read them as wholly asexual:

This is something I've seen the most discourse about in this fandom, and I've had a few thoughts of my own that I really wanted to expand upon in a full meta/character analysis post. I do understand that this can be a contentious topic, so first, let me clarify a few things:

First of all, this is going to be long. Tbh it probably won't be that organized either. I ramble and I'm not very good at editing, so just... you know. Be warned. (*Hi, it's me from 2 days after writing this; I'm really not kidding, it's LONG)

These are all my own thoughts. They might not be hot takes, because recently I've seen more than a few people come to the same conclusions on a lot of these points as I have. But I've also had these notes in my drafts for about a week and a half now, and have been continuously adding to it as things have occurred to me. This post is essentially just somewhere for me to collect the separate but related meta I've been kicking around in my head.

I fully respect anyone who does see and prefer an asexual reading of this relationship. These are my own thoughts and interpretations as someone who is not asexual. I am in the LGBT+ community, so while I do know a few things about the asexuality spectrum, I am by no means an expert.

This is NOT something I expect, need, or even necessarily want the show (or, God forbid, Neil's tumblr ask box) to address. Tonally, it's just not that kind of show. Newt and Anathema's sex scene was very much played for laughs, and it worked for that reason. If the show found a way to address it in a way that was both appropriate for the tone of the show and ultimately satisfying, then great! But there is so much more to this relationship than sex, and I didn't need a kiss to confirm their love, so I certainly don't need a sex scene. As immortal beings (as I assume they'll stay) there is so much of the rest of their lives we'll never get to see. You can headcanon them as asexual and potentially be right. I can headcanon them as not and be equally potentially right. Again, these are just a collection of my own thoughts, because I think the question of sexuality (or lack thereof) is just as interesting a facet of these characters as any other.

Note: Tbh I've been second-guessing this whole post and debated deleting the whole thing several times for being silly or unnecessary, bc I don't want anyone to think that this is the only thing I care about when it comes to this story/characters. But if nothing else, it's inspired me to write in a way that nothing has in a very long time, so I've decided it's worth continuing, if for no other reason than that.

This is going to be a mixed bag of textual reading, subtextual reading, and a full-on reach or two. It's been a while since I've been in an English class, but if my teachers expected me to find a deeper meaning behind blue curtains, you can expect me to read too deeply into the symbolism of a loaded rifle or an ox rib. (This is probably not what my professors had in mind when grading my literary analysis papers but oh well) My point is, if it feels like a reach, I'm as aware of it as you are. I am in no way saying that all (or even any) of my points made were deliberate on the part of Neil or the actors or the writers or the directors. I am no longer the delulu Apple Tree Yard child of my youth, I promise.

If anything said here is in any way offensive or hurtful to anyone in the asexual community, please do not hesitate to message me or comment and let me know exactly what it was. I promise you it is not my intention to do so, and am happy to clarify or outright edit anything that reads that way.

With all that being said, let's talk about why I think Crowley and Aziraphale would absolutely fuck nasty incorporate sex into their relationship.

Note: I am out of practice with essay writing, so I think I'll just go down the bullet points of notes I have been making, and expand on each as best I can

Food

Where better to start than with Aziraphale's introduction to Pleasures Of The Flesh? (Just a heads up, this entire post may feel very Aziraphale-heavy, and with good reason).

This might be the least hot take here. We've all seen the Job minisode. We've all seen That Scene.

Whether this was intentional or not, the symbolism here is off the charts. Eve was tempted by an apple. So why not go a similar route and tempt Aziraphale with another fruit, or cheese, or bread, or literally anything else for his first experience with food? Instead, we go with a huge, glistening slab of fresh meat that he proceeds to absolutely go feral upon, moaning and gasping into his meal while Crowley watches with what definitely doesn't look to be disgust or even satisfaction with a good temptation. There's surprise at the ferocity of Aziraphale's appetite, certainly. But ultimately he looks to be intensely fascinated by it, while the thunder crashes, the music crescendos, and the earth literally shakes around them.

(It's also interesting to note how very little it takes for Crowley to tempt him with the ox rib. One murmured suggestion, a bit of unwavering eye contact, and vavoom Aziraphale immediately meets him in the middle.)

Cut to Aziraphale devouring the rest of the meat with Crowley splayed back on a makeshift bed, drinking wine and continuing to watch him indulge through half-lidded eyes. Outside a thunderstorm rages while they're learning secrets about each other in warm flickering firelight. It's cosy, it's intimate, and if they'd thrown in a bearskin throw blanket, it might as well be a post-coital scene straight out of Game of Thrones.

The next time (chronologically) we see them discuss food is when Aziraphale "tempts" Crowley with oysters in Rome. So Crowley first tempts Aziraphale with meat and then Aziraphale tempts Crowley with what is widely regarded to be an aphrodisiac. Interesting.

And then chronologically after that, the Arrangement begins to form, which has always reeked of a friends with benefits situation. Just to throw that in there.

It's What Humans Do

In the very first episode, we're shown Gabriel's obvious disgust and bewilderment towards Aziraphale eating sushi, calling it "gross matter" and being proud of the fact that he does not sully his body with it. Aziraphale initially tries to defend his own enjoyment in it, before passing it off as something that humans do, as something he simply has to do in order to blend in (which we know very well is not the case).

He does this again in season 2, passing off Nina and Maggie being in love as "something humans do". But it isn't, is it? Angels are beings of love, and can sense it, and understand very well what it is... up to a point. Even romantic love is obviously within their wheelhouse, given what we now know happened between Gabriel and Beelzebub (we'll come back to them).

What the "humans do" that angels wouldn't understand is messy, physical forms of love.

But here's the thing: Aziraphale and Crowley love doing what the humans do. They love drinking, they (or at least Aziraphale) love eating. They love music. Crowley loves driving and sleeping and watching rom-coms and sitcoms. Aziraphale loves reading and doing magic and earning little licenses and certificates for achievement in his various hobbies. They love to playact at being human so much that they've stopped playacting and started building a genuinely human lifestyle for themselves and with each other.

Once together in an unambiguously romantic sense, why do we think they wouldn't also want to explore one of the most prominent, intimate, powerful human expressions of love and desire with each other?

Angels, Demons, & Asexuality

Here's where I really want to clarify that in no way do I mean that sex is necessary for a healthy, fulfilling, and loving romantic relationship, or that the lack of desire for sex makes you any less human. Asexuality is a sexuality as valid and human as any. What I would say is that it is definitely in the human minority compared to allosexuality.

Angels and demons, on the other hand, are predominately asexual. Sexless/genderless unless Making An Effort. (Which, btw, is a concept introduced as early as the original book; why even bring it up as a possibility? Why not keep angels/demons being sexless/asexual as a hard and fast rule, if not to open up the potential for later use? Chekhov's Effort, if you will. And isn't that something that Aziraphale in particular is shown to do time and time again? He makes an effort in French and driving and magic, doesn't he?)

And this is why I don't believe Aziraphale and Crowley necessarily need to be asexual, narratively. There is already a huge amount of ace rep within the angels and demons (and no, not just the horrible ones. Muriel also doesn't "drink the tea" and has no reason or desire thus far to Make An Effort, and there are certainly other angels and demons who aren't horrible like the archangels seem to be who likely wouldn't Make An Effort either).

The central conflict for Aziraphale and Crowley is that they are on their own side, the ones who went native, the ones who are so different in so many ways from their respective hives. It would make sense for them to also break away from traditional angel/demon asexuality.

I say "traditional angel/demon asexuality", because I would also like to note that I would absolutely not rule out demisexuality for either of them. This post is being written to as a response to people who specifically believe that they (like the rest of the angels/demons seem to be) would be sex-averse in a relationship, and that it wouldn't be a factor in their relationship. I could easily read them as demisexual, but I do think there would be no real way of verifying this, because they've never been able to form as close an emotional relationship with anyone else but each other. Certainly not in heaven, and I can't imagine they would be able to form that kind of attachment with any of the humans, who they love and emulate but ultimately regard as the separate species they are. So yes, they could either be allosexual or demisexual, in my opinion.

Then again, now that I think about it, Making An Effort itself could be a great metaphor for demisexuality, since they would be entirely sexless/asexual until they have enough of an emotional connection with someone to consciously manifest otherwise. Since the other angels and demons don't generally form those types of emotional connections with anyone, there hasn't been a precedent for it.

Except...

Brielzebub

We do have a precedent for it now, don't we? Gabriel and Beelzebub fell in love. They are a direct foil for Crowley and Aziraphale's relationship, speedrunning right through their courtship and finding their happily ever after on the other side of things.

For being such a 1 to 1 comparison, it feels deliberate that they did not kiss. They held hands, they were gooey with each other, but they did not kiss. That feels like such a deliberate thing to omit when you know what's to come at the end of the episode between Crowley and Aziraphale.

And going back to the food = sex metaphor for a moment, let's notice how even as they fell in love over the years, even when pints and crisps were there on the table in front of them, they never felt the desire to reach out for them. They didn't need to. It's a date (love story) even if you aren't eating dinner (sleeping together).

Yes, I know Jim liked hot chocolate. No, I am not counting it because I don't consider Jim and Gabriel to be the same person with the same proclivities, and Jim was highly suggestible at the time anyway.

Gabriel and Brielzebub's big happily ever after moment (as of now) was one between two asexual supernatural beings. They did not need to kiss to drive the point home. They showed what Crowley and Aziraphale could have, if they would only acknowledge it.

Crowley & Aziraphale's Dissatisfaction

But they do have that already, don't they? If you really think about it, what do Gabriel and Beelzebub do with each other that Crowley and Aziraphale don't already? They hold hands, they spend time together, they create little rituals, they give gifts, they're visibly and verbally affectionate with each other, etc. They are more or less already in a romantic asexual marriage relationship with each other, aren't they?

And it doesn't seem to be enough for either of them.

At the beginning of the season, Crowley is immediately shown to be unsatisfied with the way things are. Obviously part of it comes from living in his car, but it seems to be more than that (especially since Aziraphale makes it clear that the bookshop is just as much Crowley's as his, implying that he could have been living there the whole time and is choosing not to, for some reason?). You could argue he's feeling unmoored without Hell telling him what to do, but isn't that what he wanted? Isn't that what he still wants, by the end of the season? All season long, he's never indicated the desire for a new job, or a new project. He stopped the apocalypse because he wanted the freedom to openly spend time with Aziraphale, to spend his time on Earth however he sees fit. Until Gabriel arrives, he has exactly that (minus a flat).

So where does the dissatisfaction come from? And if it represents anything to do with his relationship, what does he want out of it that he isn't getting already?

I think Crowley only really comes to the realisation of what he's missing when Nina names it for him, not only putting them in the category of romantic, but physical (outright asking if they are sleeping together). These two posts [1], [2] go into more detail about what I mean, but I think it really pushes him into acknowledging that their relationship is more human than either of them have stopped to consider, and what that might mean as far as everything a human relationship can entail.

After all, Nina and Maggie only advised that he should talk to Aziraphale, make clear his feelings. The decision to kiss him, to tip them over the edge from nonphysical to physical, that was all him. And no, kissing isn't sex, but I wonder how taboo even that might be in the kind of all-encompassing asexuality most angels seem to identify with. (If they're disgusted by food and drink, I can only imagine what they think of snogging, much less sex.)

Aziraphale doesn't have this moment of someone observing their relationship from the outside. He loves Crowley, and as of 1941 probably even knows he's in love with him in a way that Crowley doesn't understand yet. Which makes sense, since love is technically his job, he'd be more likely to recognise it for what it is.

However, Aziraphale's reference for romance and relationships is Jane Austen. It's chaste. It's dancing and dinner and doing sweet things for each other and roses and candles and handholding. He contextualises his love for Crowley in that soft fantasy sort of way, where it's there, it's obviously there, but it's neat and easy and unspoken. Not to quote Glee in this, the year of our lord 2023, but it's all very "the touch of the fingertips is as sexy as it gets".

Someone should tell that to Aziraphale's face, then.

I'm not going to pretend I know what Michael Sheen's script notes were, but there were definitely some Choices™ made. Because yes, there were plenty of moments in both seasons with Aziraphale looking at Crowley in a sweet, loving, smitten way. And then there were moments that were yearning.

But yearning for what, exactly? All of those sappy Jane Austen tropes already apply to the two of them. So why are there moments where Aziraphale is looking Crowley up and down like the last eclair in the window and licking his lips and visibly exhaling like he's trying to get in control of himself (see: Bastille scene + Crowley telling Muriel to ask him if they have any other questions about love)? Why is Aziraphale not only unconcerned when Crowley shoves him bodily up against a wall in s1, but staring at his lips and a beat too late in noticing Sister Mary's arrival? Why are some of his lines so suggestive? I'm sorry, but the car ride after the church explosion might as well have been the beginning of a Pizza Man porn with a really weird Blitz theme. If even my mother picked up on that vibe, I can't imagine it wasn't intentional on part of both the dialogue and the delivery.

(This section may feel like more of a reach/joke, but I'm really only 20% joking. These are writers and actors who are EXTREMELY good at their jobs; they know what they were doing here.)

More importantly, I don't think Aziraphale is even aware that there is more to what he wants. He lives in the Jane Austen fantasy and it never even occurs to him that he might be interested in anything further. It never even occurs to him that, as an angel, there is anything further to be interested in in the first place. Until Crowley forces it to occur to him. Just like I believe Nina forced Crowley to confront the idea that romantic love is what he's been feeling all along, I believe Crowley forced Aziraphale to confront the idea that physical intimacy is something he's been wanting, without even realising.

Aziraphale's Hedonism

Expanding on Aziraphale for a moment. We talked about his relationship with food, but we all know that Aziraphale is defined by his love of things that Feel Good.

It isn't just that he and Crowley love human things. Aziraphale loves the best of the best, or at least his version of it. He doesn't just love food, he loves going to fancy restaurants. He doesn't just love clothes, he loves soft, cosy, warm, plush clothes, or shiny, flashy, bougie fashion. He loves the warmth of tea and cocoa, loves getting drunk, and sitting in a comfy chair in the sunlight. He doesn't just experience, he indulges.

Given the emphasis put on things that Aziraphale loves just because they Feel Good, it feels narratively strange to assume that he wouldn't enjoy the feeling of being touched, or that he wouldn't be willing to try it, at least once, with someone he cared very deeply for. And just like the ox rib, I think that once he gets the first taste of things, he would absolutely tip over into complete and utter self-indulgence.

Dancing

I also think that dancing could be construed as a huge metaphor here. After all, we're told flat-out that angels don't Dance. Except one.

I would argue that Aziraphale, in fact, Made An Effort to learn how to Dance. He threw himself into the gavotte with delight (at a Victorian gay club; noted) and worked hard to be good at it. He's chomping at the bit to Dance with Crowley, working up the nerve to ask him with undeniably romantic intent and eagerness. So, angels don't Dance... unless they Make An Effort to do so.

We are told that demons, on the other hand, do Dance, but not well. Makes sense, since they're the ones who would want to encourage a deadly sin like lust, but have as little understanding of human love and physical intimacy as the angels. Crowley, however, is shown to be an excellent dancer at the ball, especially in his compatibility with Aziraphale.

(But Aziraphale WandaVisioned the ball so everyone knew how to dance! Yes, he did. However, the rest of the brainwashing doesn't seem to affect Crowley in any way, and they did actually live through the time period where this sort of dancing was a social norm; I'd be surprised if he never needed to learn. After all, the demons can't spell either, and Crowley is at least functionally literate, as far as we know.)

As of today, it's also been confirmed that when Aziraphale asked Crowley to dance, Crowley replied with "you don't dance." Not "WE don't dance". So going along with the metaphor, Crowley is just now discovering that Dancing is something Aziraphale is interested in at all, much less with him, and not denying that he himself is interested in Dancing. In his defense, I believe he was asleep for a few years while Aziraphale was learning the gavotte, so he wasn't exactly aware of Aziraphale's hot girl summer.

Love Languages

I want to expand on that; Crowley and Aziraphale's compatibility. Specifically in regards to their individual love languages.

We all know Crowley's love language is Acts of Service. I don't think there's any debate there. He loves it, Aziraphale loves it, they're both aware of it, we're all aware of it, God and Satan are aware of it, no surprise there.

You may disagree with me, but I believe Aziraphale's love language is Physical Touch, for a number of reasons. One of which being his aforementioned hedonism. Aziraphale likes things that Feel Good, remember? He likes soft clothes, and well-worn books. Neil himself has said that they like holding hands. And any time he is taken by surprise (Brielzebub getting together, the wave of love in Tadfield, etc.) what is the first thing he does? Reaches out for Crowley. He stops him with a hand to the chest in the pub. He leads him by the hand to the dance floor. He guides him by the waist in the graveyard. He reaches out during the entire Brielzebub scene, whether he can reach Crowley or not. Despite his own turmoil, he grasps at Crowley's back during the kiss.

The one time Crowley reaches out for him (not counting the kiss yet; we'll get there), he is aggressively pushed against a wall (by someone he loves and trusts) with a complete and utter lack of concern (and perhaps some interest, depending on how you read it).

And when he isn't reaching out for anyone, or there isn't anyone to reach out to? Well, he's wringing his own hands together, squeezing his own fingers, as if to find that physical comfort in himself.

So. With that theory in mind, we have Aziraphale (Physical Touch) + Crowley (Acts of Service). Throw in 6000+ years of deep love, cherished companionship, and forcibly repressed longing, and there is a very real potential of this combination resulting in fierce sexual compatibility. Where Aziraphale would want to touch and be touched, to indulge in physical pleasure with someone he adores, in the same the way he indulges in every other fine thing in his life. And where Crowley would want to indulge him in return, to give him everything he wants, and to take pleasure in Aziraphale's pleasure, in the same way he enjoys watching him take joy in food everything else.

So Aziraphale is an angel who is insecure about his own less-than-holy desires, who would want to treat Crowley like a luxury to be touched and cherished and adored. And Crowley is a demon who has, over the millennia, been unhappy about how they've been forced to deny even their friendship with each other, who would want Aziraphale to feel comfortable and safe and encouraged to indulge in earthly delights. That sounds like a stunning recipe for sexual compatibility to me.

"You said 'trust me'" / "And you did"

Just like the Job minisode, the Blitz is RIFE with symbolism (intentional or otherwise). This one will be quick, but I did want to touch on it because I thought it was interesting. Maybe I'm reaching at this point, but I'm assuming you read the tin.

First of all, Crowley not wanting to admit to never firing a gun before; comes off as someone who very much does not want to admit to their crush that they're a virgin ("You must have done this lots of times!" / "Umm.... yyyyyeah.")

(You could make the argument that Aziraphale having a firearms license and a Derringer in a hollowed-out book is symbolic of him not being a virgin while Crowley is. I disagree, for reasons I'll go into later, but it's a valid reading. However, I see it more like keeping a condom in your wallet; it's there in case you need it, but the opportunity has not yet risen no pun intended.)

More importantly, the theme of this entire minisode is trust. We already know they trust each other with their lives against the rest of Heaven, Hell, and the world. But specifically, this is about the importance of having complete trust in your partner in a charged, physically vulnerable, intimate moment, where the only danger is between the two of you.

Aziraphale needs to believe Crowley would never hurt him if he can help it. Crowley needs to trust Aziraphale's unwavering blind faith in him. Frankly, it all feels very symbolic of two people deeply in love losing their respective virginities with each other.

The trick is a success, and they share an intimate candlelit dinner in which they reaffirm their faith in each other. Aziraphale also begins to voice his agreement with Crowley, that maybe Heaven's rules shouldn't have to be as black and white as they are, and that there are benefits to... blurring the lines, shades of grey, wink wink (at which point even my mom was like, whoa guys, this is a family show).

Btw also: Can we all agree how much it looked like Crowley was getting ready to get a lapdance in that one scene? You know the one.

Also also: "Aim for my mouth"? Come on.

The Birds & The Bees

Now that I think of it, there's also something to be said for the fact that Crowley and Aziraphale are both obviously familiar with where babies come from (how they're made and how they're born) while the other angels aren't.

Something something Aziraphale and Crowley fundamentally understand sex and reproduction in a way the other angels (and probably demons) very much do not, nor have any desire to.

Probably not important. Just thought it was worth mentioning.

The Kiss™ & Religious Trauma

The Kiss. Where to even begin?

This has definitely been the hardest one to start, because there is so much going on here that I definitely won't be able to cover it all, and will certainly miss a few things here and there.

Aziraphale's reaction to the kiss afterwards is the most interesting to me. And I don't mean directly after, I don't mean the "I forgive you" part. I mean the way he touches his lips when Crowley is no longer in the room and he no longer needs to save face, when he is completely alone. Had it been directly after the kiss, it would have been rightfully read as horror, or disgust, a shield to discourage further action.

It's not. It isn't just a touch, it's a press. As desperate and angry and unexpected and imperfect as the kiss had been, Aziraphale is pressing it into himself, recreating the feeling as best he can. Beneath all the poor timing and shock and hurt from their fight and fallout, I think it's fair to say that it was something he enjoyed. Something he doesn't think he should enjoy, something that Feels Good that he only allows himself to indulge in when completely alone.

Remember, Aziraphale's idea of love is Jane Austen and gentleness and courtship and fantasy. If he'd ever even considered kissing an option, it might have been gentle pecks, cheek kisses, forehead kiss, hand kisses. Soft, safe, chaste affection.

Crowley's kiss turns all of that on its head. He introduces physical intimacy in a very real, very messy, very human way that I don't think Aziraphale ever even considered could apply to them. Considering what other angels are like and what they look down on, even Aziraphale's Jane Austen fantasies probably would have been considered taboo.

So for their first kiss to be rough and desperate and passionate in the way it was, of course he was confused and in shock. It was deeply physical, and as overwhelming and awful as it was in the moment, it Felt Good. Enough that he grasped at Crowley and kissed back, if only just for a moment, before stopping himself. Enough that he actively pressed it into his lips afterwards, in private, to remember.

I adore how Neil has decided to evolve these characters past the first book/season. More so in this season, Aziraphale and Crowley have both become such interesting allegories for queer people on either side of the spectrum of toxic religion. Aziraphale in particular obviously, because he is the side that so desperately wants to believe, to make a difference, and to unlearn all of the propaganda he's been fed over such a long time. Just like so much of organised religion, there is so much that he is told, time and time again, that he should not want, that he is silly or stupid or outright wrong for wanting. It reminds me so much of the severe Catholic guilt one might feel for wanting/engaging in sex for the first time, and the stigma of being queer layered on top of that.

What is so critical to Aziraphale's character is that he goes on wanting, and more than that, actively pursues. He was convinced to go up against Heaven and Hell and stop all of Armageddon because he wanted to go on listening to music and eating lunch and reading books and enjoying the simple company of the person he cares most deeply for, even if that person is supposed to be the enemy.

All this to say that if angels are as generally asexual/sex-averse as I believe them to be, narratively speaking, it would make sense for Aziraphale to be singular in that regard as well. Mirroring his first experience with food, it would make sense for Crowley to be the one to first introduce this new messy, physical, human dynamic between them, for Aziraphale to hesitate (obviously we are at the Hesitation phase at the moment), and then (eventually) for him to dive in wholeheartedly, to absolutely glut himself on this new thing that Feels Good. It would make sense for his character development to show him overcoming his metaphorical Catholic guilt and pursuing the sexual intimacy most (if not all) of the other angels would scorn.

(I can't help but remember that plot idea Neil described from the unwritten sequel, with Aziraphale in a hotel room trying to watch a full porno by way of the free 2-minute teaser clips so he wasn't technically sinning by paying for it. I so hope this is used in season 3, because gosh, I wonder why Aziraphale would suddenly be so interested in observing human physical intimacy after 6,000 years. Lonely and doing a little surreptitious research there, angel?)

Crowley, on the other hand, is the queer person who has broken free from his toxic religion. He prides himself on being his own person, on their his own side. He doesn't have the hang-ups Aziraphale does. He doesn't worry that he's going to be judged or cast aside for wanting things he's not supposed to. So it only makes sense for him to be the first one to suggest/initiate physical intimacy. It makes sense for him to be the one who "goes too fast" (another fantastic example of this dynamic beginning as early as s1; what is that conversation in the car meant to represent, if not Aziraphale being overwhelmed by the intensity of their relationship, and his fear of succumbing to it when he believes he shouldn't? It's also interesting that this is the first conversation to take place in Soho, just after watching Aziraphale realise he's caught feelings for a demon, with the red glow of lust serving as the backdrop).

Do I think the kiss in and of itself was sexual? No. I think it was a passionate and devastating last-ditch effort on Crowley's part to convey the way he feels for Aziraphale. Not just that he loves him, but that he loves him in the most human way possible. But I do think that the kiss represents how they can move forward from here, and what they might want to explore with each other once they feel free enough to do so.

In Conclusion

I am sure, deep in my bones (unless we are explicitly told otherwise), that this was both of their first kisses no, I'm not counting the gavotte, and that neither of them have ever thought to do anything else physical with the humans while they have been on Earth. Like I said before, they adore the human race and lifestyle in general, but ultimately view them as a separate species altogether, and they seem mostly happy to keep to themselves and each other, unless otherwise necessary. I just can't see either of them being drawn enough to a human to pursue anything close to sex. If Crowley in particular has had anything to do with sex in the context of temptations, I'm positive he would be inciting lust amongst the humans themselves, not involving himself directly. At least not that directly.

So, like every other human experience they've had on Earth, sex is something new that they could explore together, just the two of them, on their own side. A deeply intimate, tangible declaration of their love and everything they've gone through to earn it. A visceral finger to give both Heaven and Hell. A renewed appreciation for their corporations and for each other's. A enjoyable method for immortal beings to simply pass the time in each other's company. A new and exciting way to Feel Good, and all the variations that come with it.

You might agree with this post, or you might not. Whether this is something that is ever addressed or not, it doesn't matter to me. This is a brilliant love story either way, and I genuinely feel so privileged to witness it.

But I just can't find it in myself to imagine, given everything we know about these two characters, that sex isn't an experience they would both consume with wholehearted enthusiasm, curiosity, and profound, ineffable adoration.

___________________________________

Bonus feature: the very silly notes I made to myself that inspired this post

[inkpot909]

Your Relationship Trope (Bucciarati’s Gang)

↳ Gender Neutral Reader. Takes place after the events of Part 5 in a everyone lives!AU.

A/n: It’s been a while! I had to take some time for personal matters, so sorry for my absence. I wrote something just a tad more breezy to help ease myself back into it; I really missed writing. I hope y’all enjoy!

Warning(s): None.

Giorno Giovanna

-> Love at First Sight

This deeply romantic, cheesy, guy.

Because of how much he prides himself on understanding, and by extension owning, his own thoughts and feelings- he could tell there was something drawing him to you the moment he met you. A gut feeling that he’d really care to know you better; one that he knows better than to ignore.

Good luck trying to hide anything from him yourself, either. He is as good at reading others as he is himself.

Therefore, if you felt immediately drawn to him as well, he’s going to notice. You might not say anything outright or maybe try to bury it deep down… but either way, he can tell.

Not that he minds your affections, of course. Giorno gets into this cheeky habit of dangling the concept of a potential relationship above your head. Just out of reach.

Yes, it’s in part because he wants to tease you. Seeing you grow flustered at his unapologetically forward flirtations… it never gets old.

But Giorno is also a very busy individual.

It’s difficult for him to plan meetups with you, being gone for days on end at times. Even up and leaving at the drop of a hat if the need arises. He takes his position seriously, and has been a rather involved Don since day one.

And Giorno is a sucker for the details, so he won’t make the final push to become official unless it’s the perfect moment.

Luckily for you, he’s a patient guy.

And as mentioned, he can read you like an open book. He knows you’re not looking at other men or women. Keenly aware you’re waiting for him to make some grand gesture.

Some guilt inevitably spawns whenever he gets extra busy, but your happiness at getting to see him again quickly puts those worries to rest for the time being.

All that in due time… after all, if it’s really true love, he is in no desire to rush.

That being said, the people in his inner circle would absolutely like him to rush. Who knows about his feelings for you? Everyone.

That’s not hyperbole, he’s fairly certain everyone around him can tell.

He will never shut up about you. In damn near any situation where it may be appropriate. Not in any situation that it would potentially reach your ears.

Mista himself has commented that he doesn’t know which he would prefer: Giorno before a relationship with you or during. Either way he’s ‘dealing with a lovesick fool.’

Giorno doesn’t care much, already knowing it’s something his closest friends ought to get used to. Confident in himself and what he picks up on.

After all, your smile says what his mind is already thinking.

Bruno Bucciarati

-> Reunited Childhood Friends

Bruno Bucciarati is a man that has stuck with the same haircut and pattern of clothing since he was twelve years old.

Of course he’s still not over you by the time of the inevitable reunion. Like Giorno, he’s definitely a ‘one love’ sort of man.

Getting contacted by you felt like a dream… but it also brought forth initial hesitation.

Due to the specific turn his life took, he had to leave a lot of things behind. Some more regrettable than others… and you were one of his biggest regrets for a long time.

Regardless, his heart won that day- as he agreed to meeting up with you faster than he would care to admit.

The excitement and build up to it after a date was set is a beast in of itself. The prospect of finally seeing you again after all these years fills his chest with a warmth he’s only ever associated with you.

His mind whirls, all his thoughts leading back to the hope that he’ll get to know the person you have matured into.

Your career, hobbies, how your family is doing, the path you’ve been walking down ever since he’d left its course far too long ago… and him praying there’s a distinct lack of a ring on your left hand.

Bruno’s glad to say that his hopes were well-placed. Upon seeing you again, you proved to be just as eager to know how he’s been doing all this time.

Your questions leave him feeling bittersweet; something he knew would happen.

How could he even begin to explain himself? Would he even want to? You deserve more than a short explanation or a lie. But he cannot and will not bring you into gang affairs either. And if he was honest…. where would he even begin?

“I committed murder to protect my father when I was twelve and ended up entangled in gang affairs. Sorry for not giving you a phone call.”

… it needs work, to put it lightly.

He’s not the type to succumb to fear but… it’s difficult not to stress over what you would think of him if he’s completely honest with you. It’s a testament to how deeply special you are to him; hardly ever getting this mentally worked up over anything outside his beloved team.

The push and pull of wanting to be honest with you- yet not wanting to risk putting a target on your back.

Whether it’s due to the years of separation or just the undeserved kindness you offer him, at some point, you admit to only thinking of those old days fondly.

Regardless of being quite startled with his sudden absence in your life, you couldn’t hold it against him. You knew of his parents divorce, and the last thing you had heard, was that Bruno’s father was in the hospital.

At first, he’s just resigns himself into being gratefyl you had it within yourself to forgive him.

But how can he hope to ignore… how lovely of a person you have grown up to be- inside and out. In the long run, it just doesn’t happen. His feelings truly snowballing for the first time in years.

Suddenly, he feels like a foolish child again. Only now, he must be doing something right because you could cause traffic to stop with the way you start to look at him.

There’s a warm nostalgia to you. Someone who knows him; truly knows him. Outside of his work and the contradictions he over for it for years.

And it gets to a point where Bruno resolves he must tell you how he feels. And by then, he won’t dally.

You’re back in his life again, and he’s sure as hell not leaving. Especially not without expressing his feelings.

Only took him short of nine years.

Leone Abbacchio

-> ‘We’re Just Coworkers’

He doesn’t necessarily meet people outside Passione, not one to go out of his way to seek companionship.

He has the team. He has Bucciarati. There isn’t much he wants, or feels like he can, ask for.

It’s because of this that you both are most likely to meet through the organization.

And there’s no doubt that Abbacchio is… apathetic to your position in the gang at first.

Now, he’s not as harsh on you as he was comparatively to Giorno. You’re not a fifteen year old with a savior complex and a tendency to act with a sort of righteous grandeur.

So, in short, you’re already doing great as far as he’s concerned.

Not that he warms up to you quickly; quite the opposite. Weeks will pass before he starts to slowly accept and involve you in any meaningful capacity. A guy like him just needs time to get used to someone so new to him… lots and lots of time.

Once that need has been met, he figures you’re alright.

Not bad company- in or out of Passione business. Far favorable to other people around him, as far as he’s concerned. He finds that you’re much better to converse with than Mista or Fugo.

It’s in his nature to compare a little bit, so when he starts seeing you from a fairer perspective… that’s when a quiet appreciation forms.

Alas, his heart is not as immovable as he likes believing it to be.

Over time, the two of you start to metaphorically lean on one another.

It starts off professionally enough, relying on one another in the heat of battle. Then, it gets to a more personal level- quieter conversations maintained between the two of you beneath the usual noise of the others interacting just a foot or two away.

Still, you two only work together. It’s professional. Without question. At least, that’s the case if Abbacchio or you are asked about it directly.

But the others are oh-so-quick-to-point-out that him letting you crash on his bed during particularly exhausting nights is not exactly platonic behavior. Nor is just how sucked into conversations the two of you get, or how much time you spend one-on-one.

And Abbacchio is nothing if not the type to do the exact opposite of what everyone says.

He’s going to deny it for months. Hell, years if you let him.

Never mind the fact the two of you already act like a couple. Getting ‘mistaken’ as one when going out, regardless if it’s just the two of you or not. Each time, you’re both insistent that you’re merely work friends.

It would be ten times more frustrating if there wasn’t any truth to it that neither of you are prepared to admit to.

It takes a healthy amount of whack cartoonish logic for things to finally fall into place. Being locked in a small room for twenty minutes, or possibly an accidental kiss to the lips… that sort of thing.

Guido Mista

-> Coffee Shop Regular

Mista likes the simple things in life, no doubt.

There’s many ways that fact manifests. One example is that he often wanders around the city in order to check out local businesses. Diners, secondhand stores, and little coffee shops. He knows the area well, and likes sparking up conversations with the people he comes across.

And a cute worker at one of his favorite coffee shops? Makes his day even better, he’d figure.

He was already a regular at your place of employment long before you were hired. Meaning, when he saw a new face behind the counter, he had to offer a hello with a relaxed smile on his face.

And to his credit, it was incredibly easy to like him.

The type of customer who’s always in a decent mood, not too impatient, and always knowing what he wanted to order long before walking in.

Sprinkle in a pleasant ‘hello’ or a lighthearted joke every now and then, and he starts to notice your face brightening every time he enters the shop.

He won’t argue against the idea it fills him with something far deeper than pride.

Beyond finding you initially attractive, he considers you a good worker. He cannot imagine being a barista is always easy, but he’d care to point out that you make it look easy. You know his order by memory after a while, and conversation with you comes naturally.

And soon, the workplace barrier is finally shattered. Happening so casually it was practically thoughtless.

One day, Mista walked into the store just when you were sent on a break. He greeted you as always, and offered to sit with you while you decompressed with a cup of coffee of your own.

That’s when he’d say that something a bit more concrete formed. More real, past the relationship of worker and patron.

And he grows unapologetically forward by then too.

He’s not the type to hit on you at work, but certainly not above blatantly asking for your number after he felt it may be appropriate to do so.

He finds it to be a casual and natural progression, something that is in his nature to embrace.

Like Giorno, though, he’ll drag out the time before asking you out just in order to tease you. He doesn’t automatically figure out that you might be into him, but he’ll get the hint by the time you two start calling one another regularly.

He’s not easily affected by the others teasing him over you, either. He openly admits that he’s into you, why get embarrassed?

Now, if someone makes a comment about it in front of you, then he’ll get flustered. An emotion expressed through frustration and defensiveness.

Regardless of that, it’s such a relaxed progression that at some point he thinks meeting you may have been fate. There’s a ton of coffee shops all around Naples, yet you chose to work at one of the small handful he regularly likes visiting.

If his life is predetermined, like he believes it is, then he’s grateful fate is on his side.

Pannacotta Fugo

-> Friends to Lovers

This man looks at someone with a view on love like Giorno and scoffs with distain.

The notion of ‘love at first sight’ is one that is only entertained by foolish and idealistic individuals, according to Fugo. Rolling his eyes, a scoff escaping his lips… he thinks that mindset is ridiculous and is unafraid to express it.

Hell, romantic relationships aren’t even on his radar in general.

He doesn’t look down on or think negatively of anyone in one, of course. But it’s hardly ever on his mind. Focused on Passione and the team he is proud to be a part of.

And that doesn’t change one bit upon meeting you.

As usual, such a thing doesn’t cross his mind once. The prospect of a potential new ally and friend is the only one he cares to ponder, even if you start off on the right foot. He’s a little distant, but polite and fair enough to give you a chance.

Good thing he did to, as far as hindsight is concerned.

A funny individual and someone who hardly ever makes him want to flip a table? He’s glad to call you his friend once a foundation of trust is established.

If he thinks about it, he’d have to admit to himself there’s something very earnest and warm about the relationship.

You’re a good conversationalist, he respects your intelligence, and even silence around you is comfortable.

More than that, you’re reliable. Stress doesn’t come quite as easy whenever you’re around. And when it does, you understand him. You know just what to say and how to say it. And he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try to express the same kindness.

He starts thinking of you when you’re not around, especially when he’s alone. Thinking of anything from a fond or humorous memory, or simply the curve of your smile.

Oh… oh no.

Tackling his own growing feelings is a lengthy process. He wasn’t interested in seeking out a partner, but he catches feelings before he even realizes it.

And figuring out your feelings on the matter? Forget it.

He won’t say a thing unless you make a move yourself, too wary to even admit he could realistically do something himself. A fact the others are quite keen on reminding him of.

His insecurity won’t last forever, though.

Being around you is such a joy that it’s hard to get trapped in his own mind in the moment. That smile on your face, and sentences leaving your lips in the familiar tones of your voice…

You are his friend first and foremost; someone he feels he can really talk to and trust.

And that’s why you turn out to be everything he didn’t know he’d ever hope for.

Narancia Ghirga

-> Will They, Won’t They?

Giorno is going to start making Narancia pay for his therapy appointments. Abbacchio once made a sarcastic remark about wanting to start drinking again because of this. Mista has given Narnacia approximately twenty three lectures over the subject. Fugo is pulling his hair out.

And really, who can blame any of them?

Having to watch you and Narancia interact on a regular basis is a frustrating experience- to put it lightly.

That feeling only heightened by the fact that it’s something no one feels as though they can even comment directly on whenever you and Narancia are both around. Simply swallowing any words bubbling to the surface.

All this to say, Narancia falls for you quickly and he falls hard.

At first, there wasn't a single complaint to be had from anyone on the team. On the contrary, the others took the time to hype him up with wide smiles and pats on his back.

Narancia himself is excited to be experiencing something as genuinely sweet and grounded as a crush, and that elation was contagious.

But then a couple weeks pass... then a month... then another month... then another....

If the others were a smidge more invasive, they would've just pushed you two in front of one another yelling 'to just get on with it already' months ago.

Specifically Fugo, who actively lets it get to him in a way that Narancia merely huffs at. Sometimes offering a noncommittal response if he feels it’s necessary.

It doesn't matter how much his former tutor gets on his case, Narancia’s not budging. A light blush present on his face when he insists for the hundredth time that there's no way you could possibly feel the same.

Your own friends go through a very similar situation on the other end of things.

Similarly with someone like Abbacchio, the two of you act like a couple far before anything is set in stone. Unlike him, it's less causal and downright mind-boggling to the people around you.

Your legs lazily draped over his lap, going on drives that last for hours at a time, one barely ever seen without the other, and talking about each other constantly.

The latter became so frequent that Giorno once had to pull Narancia aside and tell him to stop mentioning you at Passione meetings.

Narancia has to bit his lip just to stop himself, but he manages. Much to the Don’s relief- never wanting to have that kind of conversation with a friend again.

Giorno cannot and won't try to control him outside of work, though, so it was merely half the battle.

Not that Narancia particularly minds the others' reactions to it very much.

Months into his affections and he's gotten used to the constant stream of teasing. Besides, he lies to himself figures that maybe they're just jealous. He wouldn’t blame them if that’s the case, finding you as special as any person can be.

Regardless of what anyone says, the sweetness is there.

An amusement to be had over how truly clueless the both of you are, despite interacting with flushed faces and stuttering words. It’s sweet, then annoying to the point where it circles around to being funny.

But you and Narancia retreat into your own little world where all of that melts away. He’s loyal, and since you hold his heart, it would be an understatement to say you’re just important to him.

Who will give in and admit the crush first? It's up in the air.

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

hiii - I read a bunch of your works and I loved them so much!

do you think you could do a minho (or one for everyone) piece where he's feeling burnt out but he's been trying to hold it together (maybe he's been quite successful at not making it known to the guys) because he doesn't want to be a bother y/n hasn't been around much (but has been texting to check in on him) because of university or work. but through those texts, you get a sense he's not himself and when you finally see him in person, you can tell he's trying to hold it together but the second you say "it's been hard, hasn't it?" He immediately break and y/n is there to pick him up.

okay this was a bit more specific than I intended so feel free to do your own thing but I think it would be nice to have a y/n comforting the member thing but only if youre up for it!!

Thank you and feel free to say no as well!! I understand that you've got a whole bunch of other things to do too

Thank you and have a great week.

Put Your Head on My Shoulder | Minho

Minho x gn!reader >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

Minho sat on the edge of his bed, his phone resting in his hand as he stared blankly at the screen. Another text from you, asking how he was. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to reply, but the words wouldn’t come.

He was burnt out. He had been running on fumes for weeks now-between rehearsals, performances, and schedules that seemed never-ending, the burnout had crept up on him slowly, until it swallowed him whole.

Still, he had been holding it together. At least, he thought he had.

The guys hadn’t noticed, or if they did, they hadn’t said anything. He’d become good at hiding it- smiling, joking, and keeping up the act, because that was what everyone expected of him. Minho was the strong one, the calm one, always in control. But beneath the surface, he was unraveling.

He didn't want to place that burden on anyone- let alone you who had been an unexpected blessing in his life. An unexpected meeting that turned into him freefalling for you fast and hard and more passionate than he had ever loved anyone before.

He needed you and he didn't want to do anything that could potentially jeopardize his chance at forever with you.

You probably didn't want to date a burnt out man...

He rubbed his temples, feeling the tension radiating behind his eyes, and let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Your text still glowed on the screen:

Hey, love, how’s everything going? You okay?

You had been checking in on him more often lately, even though you were busy with university. He could tell you were worried, even if you didn’t say it outright. And somehow, through just those few words, you knew him better than anyone else. As if your souls were connected.

Minho didn’t reply. He didn’t have the energy to put up a front, and he didn’t want to worry you more than he already had. He figured if you sensed something was off out of the blue, you could detect his lies through the phone.

He sighed and placed his phone face-down on the bed, willing the exhaustion away, knowing it wasn’t going anywhere.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

It had been almost two weeks since you and Minho had last seen each other. Between your classes and his packed schedule, finding time to meet up had been nearly impossible. But today was different. You had wrapped up your work early and decided it was time to check on him- really check on him. His texts had been growing shorter, his replies delayed, and every instinct told you that something was wrong.

And you supposed you could give some credit to Han, who had willingly snitched to you about how his Hyung was falling asleep in public places.

And how he:

"-didn't even react to a cat picture. That's a red flag, Hyung loves cats."

You knew Minho didn’t like to show when he was struggling. He had a habit of carrying everything on his shoulders without asking for help, but you had seen through that long ago.

The plan was simple: drop by his place, surprise him, and figure out what was going on.

When you arrived, you knocked softly, waiting for a response. After a moment, you heard shuffling on the other side, and the door creaked open.

Minho stood there, and your heart sank immediately. He looked exhausted- his usual sharp features softened by the weight of whatever he was carrying. His skin was dry, and his hair disheveled. His eyes, normally so full of mischief and light, were dull, and there was a tightness in his expression that he hadn’t quite managed to hide.

"Y/N-ah," he said, his voice slightly hoarse.

You smiled gently, stepping inside and wrapping your arms around him without a second thought, snuggling your head into his chest. "Hey, Min. You look like you need a break."

He chuckled softly, but there was no real humor behind it. "I’m fine. Just…a little tired."

You pulled back, studying his face, and it hit you just how much he had been pushing himself. There was a heaviness in the air between you, and you could see that he was barely holding it together. You sighed.

You led him to the couch, sitting down next to him. For a moment, neither of you said anything, the quiet stretching between you like a fragile thread.

Finally, you spoke, your voice soft but firm.

"It’s been hard, hasn’t it?"

At those words, you felt the subtle shift in the air, like the last thread of his composure snapped.

Minho’s catlike eyes flickered to yours, and for a moment, he blinked rapidly, trying to brush it off, to give you a small smile like he always did so he wouldn't be a burden- so he wouldn't give you any reason to judge, to leave; but this time that flippant smile didn’t reach his eyes. His lips trembled slightly- and then, all at once, the mask fell.

He broke.

Minho let out a shaky breath, his hands coming up to cover his face as his shoulders slumped. You could hear the quiet sound of his breath hitching, the sound of someone who had been holding on too tightly for too long.

"Don't look." He whined, but you didn't listen.

Without a word, you scooted closer, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him against your chest. He didn’t resist, allowing himself to collapse into your embrace, his body trembling slightly as he let go of everything he had been bottling up. He buried his face into your shoulder, his breath coming in uneven waves.

"Shh," you whispered, rubbing gentle circles on his back. "It’s okay, Min. You don’t have to hold it together anymore."

Minho didn’t say anything, but his grip on your shirt tightened. For a while, you just held him, the soft sound of his breathing filling the space. He was always so strong, always so composed, but here, in your arms, he let himself be vulnerable. This was the first time you had ever seen him be vulnerable. And knowing im, you figured this wouldn't be a super common occurence but you basked in it nonetheless, happy that he felt comfortable enough to break in froont of you.

And you held him, letting him know that it was okay to lean on you-that he didn’t have to carry everything on his own.

After a while, his breathing steadied, and you felt him relax slightly against you. You pulled back just enough to look at him, brushing a few stray strands of hair from his face. His eyes were red-rimmed, his breathing clogged, but there was a softness there now- a quiet relief, like he had finally let down the walls he’d been building for so long.

"You don’t have to pretend with me, Minho," you said quietly, your fingers still gently combing through his hair. "I’m here."

He swallowed hard, blinking back the last of his tears. "I just…didn’t want to bother you," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

You shook your head, giving him a small, sad smile. "You could never be a bother. Not to me."

There was a long pause, and then Minho leaned his head against your shoulder, the tension in his body slowly ebbing away as he rested against you. "Can I just…stay like this for a while?"

Your heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice. "Of course," you whispered. "As long as you need."

You could feel him relax further, his head heavy against your shoulder as you continued to run your fingers through his hair. You leaned back into the couch, and he shifted slightly, resting more comfortably against you.

"Put your head on my shoulder," you murmured softly, a quiet invitation to let go. And he did. He leaned into you, kicking his legs into your lap, his head nestling into the curve of your neck, his breathing becoming slower and more even as he allowed himself to cling close to you and simply be in your presence.

The room was quiet, the only sound the steady rhythm of your breathing in sync. You held him close, feeling the weight of everything he had been carrying, and you wished you could take some of that burden away. But for now, this was enough.

"You’ve been working so hard," you whispered, your voice soft as you stroked his hair. "It’s okay to rest."

Minho sighed, his eyes fluttering shut as he nuzzled a little closer. "I don’t know what I’d do without you," he mumbled, his voice drowsy now, the emotional weight finally catching up to him.

"You’ll never have to find out," you said, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head.

Time passed in a comfortable silence, and after a while, the weight on your body became heavy as you realized Minho had drifted off to sleep, his body fully relaxed against you. You smiled softly, brushing your fingers through his hair once more, marveling at how peaceful he looked now.

He had been trying so hard to hold everything together, but here, in this moment, he had finally let himself be vulnerable. And you were grateful that he trusted you enough to let go, to rest, to lean on you.

You knew that when he woke up, he’d still have the weight of his responsibilities waiting for him. But for now, he was safe, cradled in the warmth of your arms, where he didn’t have to be anything but himself.

And as you sat there, holding him close, you knew that no matter what came next, you’d always be there to catch him when he fell- to remind him that he didn’t have to face everything alone.

With a soft smile, you rested your cheek against the top of his head, closing your eyes and letting the quiet comfort of the moment wash over you both.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha

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[ginnymoonbeam]

I've been thinking about Great and Korn and what makes someone a good person. From what we've seen in episodes 1-4, Korn seems to have more worthy instincts and core character traits: he's empathetic and genuinely caring, he's responsible and tries to help people. But he is also a rich man attached to the trappings of his life, attached to meeting his father's expectations and protecting his family's wealth and name. And we see how those attachments have led him into doing bad, bad things. Not only running the underground business and closing his eyes to the price in lives it takes, but in his relationship to Tonkla.

It is chilling to look at what his relationship with Tonkla is like, now that we know it began as a mutual romance. If it had been transactional from the beginning, as I assumed up until episode 4, then at least it's honest and potentially fair. But Korn made promises to Tonkla, he loved him and said so, and then over time, bit by bit, he shoved him into the corner where he is now, a side piece and kept boy. That is how Korn treats him, showing up to fuck and then leaving at his convenience. Ignoring his calls - getting angry if Tonkla dares to demand his attention, getting angry at the idea that Tonkla would ask him to leave. It's so so clear that in his mind Tonkla is something that belongs to him, for him to use when he wants and ignore when he doesn't.

And if you think that this ultimate state of affairs shows that he never really cared about Tonkla, that the empathy he's shown in the past and toward Great is false, then I'm so sorry to tell you that people are like this. Someone can be genuinely caring in one area of their life and genuinely cruel, callous, and even abusive in another. It's actually very common. What we see in Korn is the way circumstances, and his own unwillingness to lose something as big as his fortune and his family, have over time worked to make the empathetic part of him smaller and smaller, the cruel and callous part larger and larger.

And then there's Great. Great seems to be, more than anything else, a coward. He goes with the flow, he doesn't challenge his horrible friend, his first instinct in every tense situation is to run away and avoid trouble. Very little moral fibre, very little natural concern for others. But he gets second chances. He gets to see the immediate, horrible aftermath of his cowardly choices and then he gets an instant redo. And he consistently makes better choices - sometimes even brave ones.

It's so easy to see how contemptible and haplessly destructive Great would be without those second chances. That seems, in fact, to be a lot of what this story's about. And so we have Korn, with the instincts of a good man, falling deeper and deeper into outright villainy, and Great, with the instincts of a base coward, being dragged by his fingernails into becoming something like a hero.

[robot-roadtrip-rants]

I posted an analysis of a section from Dark Imperium on Reddit that I'm quite proud of, so I'm reposting it here:

‘Some of the worlds dispute the proof. They are more than glad to welcome our warriors, but the Imperial governors in two dozen systems quibble over reaffirming their oaths of loyalty. In one case, we have had an outbreak of intra-system civil war over the issue, where one lord has declared for you and three against. Some lie outright, telling us they were never part of Ultramar. Perhaps some of them sincerely believe it. A few are braver and insist the ancient treaties cannot be revoked, even by you, my lord, and are determined to retain their independence.’ ‘They are wrong,’ said Guilliman. […] 'They are… disquieted by the fate of some of their peers.’ ‘Only those who rule poorly have anything to fear,’ said Guilliman. ‘It is, naturally, the more autocratic rulers who oppose your rescinding of their independence.’ ‘Then they only delay the inevitable,’ said Guilliman. ‘They will fall into line and ask politely for mercy, or they will be executed.’ […] ‘I should never have set the Five Hundred free,’ he said. ‘My lord?’ said Ventris. ‘I should not have done it,’ repeated Guilliman. ‘I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought I was following the Emperor’s wishes, letting men rule the affairs of men.’

A lot of people look at this passage and think they’re seeing Guilliman clean up corruption in the 500 Worlds. I’m sure he will, but that’s not what’s happening here. This is an autocrat ruthlessly crushing resistance.

Why are these worlds resisting? Ventris claims that “naturally” the more autocratic rulers are the most resistant. Perhaps that’s true, but we also have to take into account that he is an Ultramarine talking to his genesire; he will be heavily biased in thought and word against Guilliman’s enemies. Look closer at how he describes the resisters. They invoke ancient treaties to justify their independence. They’re afraid of what will happen if they surrender. Using that information, let’s flip the chessboard and try to imagine what these demands feel like from their perspective:

You’re a human ruler. For the past ten thousand years, your planet has existed free of transhuman rule. You might even have the original treaty that granted your planet’s independence. You almost certainly regard yourself as an obedient subject of the Imperium.

All of a sudden, one of the legendary demigods of yore shows up on your doorstep and demands you to bend the knee. He doesn’t care about your treaties (which he probably signed!) or historic independence or anything. Ugly things happen to people who go against him. Oh sure, he claims that you’ll be fine, so long as you haven’t done anything wrong, but do you really believe that? You’re a ruler in the fucking Imperium. You know just how potential claimants are handled; you know how often misdeeds get dug out of the closets of inconvenient politicians. Shit, you've probably done that yourself to your political rivals. Do you really think that you’ll be okay? And if you actually care about your planet, can you really trust him to give a damn about the lives of your people? Transhumans do tend to be aloof creatures convinced in their own superiority…

Guilliman doesn’t consider any of these possibilities, not even for the purposes of negotiation. Guilliman doesn’t care. He’s right, you’re wrong, and therefore he’s justified in doing whatever it takes to make you comply. This is 40k. “Whatever it takes” includes cyclonic torpedoes.

The most damning part IMO are Guilliman’s words at the end. He didn’t grant these worlds their liberty because he trusted humans to look after themselves. He granted them liberty in obedience to Dad. Humans’ thoughts, beliefs, and opinions never entered the equation. And now, coming back to the Imperium at its lowest point, he concludes that it was a mistake to give humans the benefit of the doubt.

The Imperium lasted ten thousand years under human rule. It survived the Great Beast, twelve Black Crusades, the Nova Terra civil war, the False Primarch, the Age of Apostasy, three Tyranid Wars, and Throne knows what else—not just survived, but even thrived in many cases. Under transhuman rule, the Imperium lasted six fucking years before it exploded into civil war that nearly destroyed the whole empire and even the galaxy itself. But it was a mistake to let humans rule themselves. Riiiiiiiiight.

[gotham-daydreams]

So with friend!reader, when the batfam's obsession switches to them...personally I would never believe the batfam actually loves me, especially if I suffered at their hands. To me, it'd just be another trick to get me away from their original obsession. And if I ever did believe them? I would be terrified. If their obsession can switch once, then it can definitely switch again, and if I get kidnapped by them, I'd just constantly be on edge, waiting for them to become obsessed with someone new, and to kill me when that happens. Lots of potential for angst...

Agreed! And that's what I love about it too, especially as, again, when things do turn- you already have a pretty solid idea of what you're getting into and it's horrible.

I mean, can you imagine how uncanny it is? To see these people who were threatening your life, career, and basically anything they possibly could (which, considering the Batfam, is everything) - now not only act all buddy-buddy with you, but actually start to treat you like a human being??? Hell, maybe even more depending on the person. The real trick is trying to figure out if they're using you to get even closer to their obsession, trying to get you away, or both... they've always been hard to read, and now with their attention shifted to you, well, that definitely hasn't gotten any easier- at least you could tell when they were being outright malicious or not.

Then again, seeing is believing, no? But that may not even be enough, since, again, the reader in that scenario is basically an 'almost' victim of the Batfam. I think the really horror of it all is when they completely disregard or do away with their previous obsession. Either to 'prove' themself to you, or for some other but equally insane reason. Hell, it could even just be because they want to spend time with you instead, but considering the situation? They may as well have said something completely crazy.

And that's what I love about it! Once that switch comes, all of these little things that seem fine, minor, and or ridiculously small from an outsiders perspective (or even just, in any other situation besides this one) are now seen in a completely different light. Things that may seem or look innocent and nice, now have a whole new meaning to it as you know what it really means, and that is horrifying. Like, what do you mean that all of these psychos are my responsibility now? What do you mean that they feel as if they can't even live without me being in the room with them, or at arms length? What do you mean that they are my problem now? And not because they're trying to use me to get close to one of my friends, but rather because they want to spend time with me now? What happening to them hating me????

I feel like it'll definitely get to the point where you just kind of hope their obsession with fall on someone else, and you'll hopefully be able to take that opportunity to escape and just get the hell away from these freaks-

But imagine the horror when a small, threatening yet innocent thought creeps into your head that they won't. And as time passes... well... you're not exactly proven wrong. Especially not when you try to pull away and move on, only for them to pull you back, and rip away those closest to you just to have you. (totally not partially 'foreshadowing' by the way)

Though you are right!!! There are tons of potential for angst, and general conflict!

[junrenjun]

I’ve read your alpha Vernon fic like 12 times in the last hour I’m not even joking I think I’m obsessed- please please please more alpha Vernon if you’re up for it

72 Hours

alpha!vernon x omega!reader

genre: smut, fluff

wc: 6.7k

warnings: afab reader, unprotected sex (we are pretending they are on birth control okay?), a/b/o dynamics, heat sex, breeding kink, praise kink, bath sex, finally admitting feelings lol

HOUR 0 

Vernon’s attention is pulled away from the movie by the buzzing of his phone. Grumbling a bit due to the interruption, he clicks on the notification. It’s a snap from Joshua, a picture of the departure times on the airport screen. All of the flights have “delayed” printed next to them in bold red letters. He captioned the picture with a frowny face. How fitting. 

“Joshua’s flight is delayed,” Vernon says, looking up from his phone. Seungkwan doesn’t even glance up from where his gaze is fixed on the screen. A bit of popcorn falls from his hand as he shovels it toward his mouth. 

Annoyed with the lack of response, Vernon tosses a throw pillow at him. It hits him square on the side of the face and he chokes on the popcorn in his mouth. Coughing a little, he eventually recovers. “Yeah, that sucks or whatever, but was that really necessary?” his roommate argues, finally pulling his attention away from the movie. 

“Yes,” Vernon fires back, “you could at least pretend like you’re listening to me. And we should probably call Y/N.” 

Seungkwan has the audacity to look at him like he’s confused. “Y/N? Why would we need to call her?” 

The alpha slides a hand over his face in defeat. How did Seungkwan not see the problem here? “Josh was supposed to help her through her heat, like he always does. But now he’s not going to be here until at least tomorrow night or later and she’s due any second now.” 

His roommate simply gives him a weird look, shaking his head a bit. “Go help her yourself since you’re so in tune with her cycle” he mumbles, turning back to the TV and shoveling more popcorn into his mouth. 

Now it’s Vernon’s turn to be confused. Didn’t Seungkwan know that your heat hits every 3 months, on the 3rd week of the month, basically on the dot? Did his roommate not realize that you and Joshua both disappear on that same week like clockwork? And Joshua has outright talked about being your designated heat partner before, much to Vernon’s chagrin. If he had the choice, it would be him in your nest every 3 months. But you’ve never seemed to show any interest in Vernon and seem to be pretty content with the arrangement you and Josh have. 

Seungkwan must sense his inner turmoil from the other side of the couch, because he’s turning back toward the alpha with a sigh. “Vernon, everyone knows you have a thing for her. Just offer to help with her heat.”

When Vernon said they should call you, he meant to say that they should comfort you. Assure you that you would be okay, regardless of if you found someone to take Joshua’s place. Especially knowing that today could potentially be the last day of pre-heat, he’s sure the lack of a partner is stressing you out right now. 

But Seungkwan’s proposition sounds…like a horrible idea. While it makes his alpha rumble in delight, the rational part of him knows that it’s going to be detrimental for his heart. Seeing you in one of your most vulnerable states. Having sex with you. Getting to treat you like you are his and his only. Just for it to all end after a few days. How can he go back to being just friends with you after that?

He’s startled out of his stupor by his phone buzzing once again. But instead of a Snapchat notification, this time he’s met by your contact photo. You are calling him. He lets it ring for another second, before finally gaining the courage to answer. As he picks up, he walks out of the room, not granting Seungkwan the satisfaction of listening to his conversation. 

When he brings the phone to his ear, he’s instantly met with you panicking. You’re rambling about something Vernon can’t quite understand, but what he does pick up on is the strain in your voice. You must have been crying. Something deep within his chest aches at the sound. Before you can finish, he’s shushing you. “Y/N, honey, you need to calm down, I can’t understand you.” 

Vernon is a little startled at the “honey” that slips out of his mouth, and clearly you are too, with the way you’ve gone silent. The only thing that plays through his speakers is some muffled sniffling. “Good. Now tell me what’s wrong. Slowly.” 

You sniffle a few more times. “Did Joshua tell you his flight was delayed?” you ask, quietly. 

“Yeah,” Vernon says, a bit gentler now.

“He…” you pause, yet another sniffle coming through. “He was supposed to help me with my heat. And now I don’t think he’s going to be back in time. I haven’t spent a heat alone in years Vernon.” 

His heart aches at the way your voice cracks when you say “years.” All he wants is to wrap his arms around you, offering as much comfort as he can. But alas, he’s here in his own bedroom while you are…well he hopes you are in your own home. “Okay,” he acknowledges. “What can I do to help? Who did you spend your heat with before Joshua?”

“Johnny,” you immediately respond. “But he moved away.” 

“And before that?” Vernon asks. 

“...my ex,” you sob. Well fuck, now he really feels bad. He didn’t even know you had an ex. 

Sighing, Vernon rubs his forehead trying to figure this situation out. “Okay, there’s no one in this town right now that you would be willing to spend your heat with?” 

There’s an awkward silence as he waits for your answer. Vernon squirms nervously. “I wouldn’t say no one…”

HOUR 2 

Somehow that phone call ended up with a promise to help you. You made him pinky promise over the phone. Vernon doesn’t break promises. Especially not pinky promises made to basically-in-heat omegas. 

So here he is now, standing in front of your door tentatively, a duffle bag in hand. He doesn’t know how long he’s been standing here, if he;s being honest. He should probably knock. But before he can, the door is yanked open and you pull him inside. “I could smell you just standing there you know,” you say, pulling his jacket off. “If you stood there any longer you would catch a cold.” 

He finally takes a chance to look down at you. You’re clad in a green satin pajama set and wow you look good. Maybe it’s just his alpha brain speaking or your pre-heat pheromones swirling in the air, because it’s not really meant to be seductive. The shorts reach mid-thigh and the shirt covers everything except your neck and lower arms. But something about it is so enticing. 

Catching himself slipping, he pulls himself out of his stupor. “How long do you have?” he asks, running his hands down the bare skin of your arms. You shudder in response.

“An hour or two probably,” you whisper, closing your eyes and breathing in his scent. 

“Okay,” he responds, pulling away from your body. He tries his best to ignore your whines of protest. “Do you have anything prepped? Food? Water? Nest?” 

You take a step closer to him. “My nest has been ready for like years. Josh usually makes some rice for us beforehand though.” You say the last bit with a pout, staring off toward your kitchen wistfully. Likely thinking of how you miss Joshua, his own alpha tells him with a bit of a growl. 

“Just rice? Nothing else? What about water?” he asks once again. 

“I’ve got a case of water in my room and a bunch of snacks. We make rice to store in the fridge because it’s fast to heat up and pretty much the only thing I can stomach once I’m fully gone.” The final stages of pre-heat are hitting, and Vernon can tell from the way you lay your head against his chest as you say the last part of the sentence. 

Pushing you back up, he brushes some hair out of your face. “Okay. How about you take a nap while I make some rice?” You nod in response, lashes brushing your cheeks as you blink slowly. 

He guides you toward your bedroom slowly, letting you lean against him for support. Once you get there, he stops at the threshold and lets you open the door. As you enter, he turns to leave, eager to get started on some cooking. But your voice stops him in his tracks. “Tuck me in?” You need to stop being cute or Vernon might actually implode by the end of this week. He glances nervously at the bed where your nest is made. You haven’t given him permission to enter yet.

Like you can read his mind, you sigh and say, “Vernon. I wouldn’t have asked you to help with my heat if you didn’t have permission to enter my nest.” He nods, like he knew that all along, and finally enters your room. It smells heavily of you. The scent weighs down on him and he feels his own gland pulse in response. 

He follows you over to the bed, though it’s more of a mass of blankets and clothes than anything else. You plop down in the center and start to get comfortable as he hovers nervously at the side. That’s when he spots a hoodie of his own. One that he had thought he lost for some time now. One that mysteriously went missing after he and his friends watched a movie at your apartment. “You have one of my shirts in your nest?”

You eye the hoodie, nervously. Like you didn’t mean for him to see it. “You’re one of my friends and I trust you. I have a lot of things from friends in here.” 

Vernon feels so conflicted. While he hates that you keep calling him a friend, part of him preens at the fact that you stole a sweatshirt from him just for your nest. “How does Joshua feel about having stuff from another alpha in your nest?”

“Well it’s my nest and he’s not my alpha,” you retort, rolling your eyes.

The words “he’s not my alpha,” ring through Vernon’s head. He’s not sure if the sentiment makes him feel better or worse. Taking a step forward, he pulls the blanket up to your shoulders, tucking the sides under your body. You hum in content. Once he’s satisfied with his work, he reaches up and ruffles your hair a bit. “Sleep tight bug.” You hum once again. 

It takes a moment for Vernon to pull himself away from your nest and out to the kitchen. Though the stench of pre-heat is less concentrated outside of your room, it feels like it sticks to him. He feels lightheaded as he searches the cabinet for your rice cooker. What has he gotten himself into?

HOUR 5 

Many bowls of rice later, Vernon finds himself checking your room once again. You’re sleeping peacefully, tucked into a little ball. He seats himself on the corner of the bed and reaches out to hold the back of his hand to your forehead. Just as he suspected, you’re burning up already. He knew your heat was likely to come faster in the presence of an alpha. Especially an alpha you know you’ll be spending it with.

The touch makes you whine a little bit in your sleep. Vernon can’t help but coo at the cuteness. Your eyes flutter open at the sudden sound. “It’s fucking hot,” is all you manage to say as you come to.

He chuckles a bit, pulling himself farther into your bed. “Yeah? Do you want me to help?”

Resting your head on his shoulder, you let out a little hum. “Please scent me.” 

You don’t need to tell Vernon twice. He wiggles all the way into your nest, lying parallel to you. His nose meets the junction of your shoulder and you shiver in response. He drags his nose up and down the side of your neck, his alpha preening as goosebumps appear on your skin. Experimentally, he pokes his tongue out, taking the tiniest little lick at your gland. A sharp exhale leaves your mouth, but you don’t say anything. Taking it as a sign to continue, he licks a long stripe up your neck. Your heat pheromones taste sickly sweet on his tongue. If this is just how your skin tastes now, he can’t even imagine how sweet your slick will be in the throes of heat. 

He switches sides now, using a hand on your jaw to softly tilt your head to the side. He repeats the same process as before, but takes some time to rub his cheek on the spot behind your ear. Your scents thicken together in the air. It must really stir you up, because you suddenly press your lower body against his. “Please,” you mutter, eyes still closed. 

“Use your words bug,” he whispers into your ear. “Tell me what you want.”

You pant a bit, rolling your hips against his leg. It's at this moment that Vernon realizes he’s painfully hard already. God, he really hopes his gym habits are enough to sustain his stamina these next few days. “Want you to make me cum,” you tell him breathlessly.

You’re still grinding against his thigh and he realizes that this may be his chance to let you release some energy. If you tire yourself out at the beginning, the heat won’t be as strong later on. “Looks like you’re already doing it by yourself, bug. C’mon. Keep going.”

He wraps an arm around your waist, guiding your movements with a hand on your hip. With his help, you speed up. Vernon can feel a wet spot forming on his sweatpants and it takes a whole lot of self-restraint to keep himself from sniffing the air in search of your slick’s scent. “Need more,” you whisper. In response, he pushes his leg closer to you and flexes his quad. You gasp as your clit rubs deliciously on the muscle. 

Vernon can tell you’re right on the edge. He feels your legs tremble, then he pulls away at the last minute. “What the fuck Vernon!” you exclaim breathlessly. When he looks up, your eyes are wide open, pupils blown and your chest is heaving. Oh, he so fucked after this. 

“You’ll cum eventually, bug. I promise. But if I tease you enough, work you up enough, your heat will break for longer once you finally cum.” He explains, hoping you’re not too deep into the heat mindset yet. If you are, no explanation will work. You’ll be too far gone to understand anything but the need to orgasm and be bred. 

He can see the skepticism on your face, but you give in. “Okay. But if you don’t make me cum soon, I’m making Josh take your place the second he gets back.” 

At the mention of the other alpha, Vernon growls embarrassingly loud. Honestly, he didn’t even know he was growling until he saw the surprised look on your face. “Bug, I know it was just a joke but maybe don’t mention other alphas while I’m literally in your heat nest.” 

You look back at him unamused. “Just make me cum Vernon.”

“As you wish, my lady.”

HOUR 7

So far, all of Vernon’s predictions have been correct. 1) You have the prettiest body he’s even seen. 2) Your slick tastes absolutely heavenly. 3) The face you make when you cum is worth every single ounce of effort. 

So much runs through his mind as he watches you finally reach release after 2 hours of edging. Did you complain every single time he pulled his fingers and tongue away? Yes. Does his dick feel numb from being achingly hard this long? Yep. Is there a giant wet spot on the front of his pants? Obviously. But was it all worth it for these few seconds he gets to watch you writhe in ecstasy? Absolutely. 

As you make your way down from your high, Vernon comfortingly rubs his hands along your thighs. “Good girl,” he says, voice low. In response to his praise, you keen. Loud. It takes you both by surprise, if the embarrassed look on your face is any indication. 

For a second, you both just stare at each other. He takes a second to appreciate how beautiful you look. Hair mussed, blush tinting your cheeks, sweat coating your forehead. Everything about you is perfect. But he figures he better say something because you look even more mortified every second. “So praise is what gets you going, huh bug?”

You whine and turn yourself over, burying your face into the sheets. He chuckles at your lack of response, pulling himself up to lay next to you. In the silence, he lightly draws little shapes onto the nape of your neck. You shiver. “Don’t go all shy on me now,” he comments. 

His taunting makes you turn around to face him. “I’ve never done that before,” you admit after a few seconds. 

Now this takes him by surprise. “You’ve never keened before?” he asks, pushing a stray hair out of your face. 

“Nope. I kind of thought it was one of those myths they tell you about heats,” you say. 

“Oh,” Vernon blurts. “I didn’t know it was a heat thing. I’ve had an omega keen during regular sex before.” 

You’re silent for a moment while processing this new information. It begins to worry him. Maybe he shouldn’t have brought up having sex with another omega while he’s in your nest. God, he’s so stupid. 

Finally, you speak. “Well you are good in bed. Pretty worthy of a keen outside of a heat, I guess.” 

“You guess?” he retorts. “You haven’t even had the real thing yet.”

“Whatever,” you say, rolling your eyes and pushing lightly at his chest. “I’m tired.” 

He can tell your eyes are getting droopy. Now that your body has processed that the sex is over (for the time being), it’s forcing you to shut down. Making you conserve some energy until the hormones kick back in. Shit, he should really get some fluids in your system before you’re out. He scrambles out of bed, ignoring your whine of protest, and locates the water bottles on your floor. Grabbing an electrolyte packet from the top of your dresser, he preps the water for you. 

When he turns back around, you already have your face buried in a pillow. He runs back over, turning you around while you blink lazily at him. “C’mon you gotta drink some water first.” He uncaps the bottle and holds it to your lips. 

You push it away, mumbling “I’m too tired.” 

He watches as your eyes droop and you attempt to turn around once more. “No, no. Bug you gotta drink something before you go to bed. You’ll be dehydrated.”

You shake your head in denial. If there was one thing Vernon was not prepared for, it was this. Most omegas are usually pliant and willing to meet an alpha's demand in heat. Why are you not? It should be instinctual. Oh. He has to play with your instincts. As much as he doesn’t want to (his mom raised him right, okay?), he really needs you to drink this water. An ER trip with a heat-ridden omega that you aren’t mated to sounds like a recipe for disaster. “Alpha wants you to drink the water.” The words feel foreign coming out of his mouth.

Like a switch flipped in your brain, you look back up at him. “It will make Alpha happy if I drink the water?” He nods. You take the water out of his hands wordlessly and drain the entire bottle.

He sighs in relief. “Okay. You can sleep now, bug.” You’re practically out before your head hits the pillow. 

As much as he wants to tuck himself into bed next to you, Vernon feels gross and sticky. And doesn’t want to invade your privacy. You look comfy all curled up in your nest anyways. He drags himself to your bathroom, where he strips and rinses off the shower. For a minute, he has the thought to jerk off. But the thought that you could wake at any time and be ready for another round prevents him from doing so. 

Once he finally feels clean, he changes into a clean pair of sweats. He watches you for a few minutes, making sure you’re still sleeping soundly. He feels like a creep until he remembers that this is a totally normal instinct for him to be feeling right now. His omega is in heat, in their most vulnerable moments. Of course he wants to watch over them. 

Wait. Did he just say his omega? Oh, this is bad. He’s never going to recover from this week. 

In an attempt to distract himself, he ventures out to the kitchen in search of dinner. He manages to find some instant ramen in your pantry and starts preparing some. He checks his phone, letting Seungkwan know that yes, he’s still alive. No he has not died of suffocation by pussy yet. There’s an unopened message from Joshua asking if everything is going okay. Vernon just barely catches himself before he can let out a hushed growl. He tries his best to respond politely. 

Later, his ramen is gone and he’s done enough Instagram doom scrolling. He takes the opportunity to check on you one more time. Sure enough, you’re perfectly fine. It doesn’t quite soothe his instincts though. Pushing them aside, he settles himself into the couch for the night. He uses one of your throw pillows and the blanket you always leave in the living room. Everything smells like you and it pleases his instincts thoroughly. Though he tosses and turns for a while, sleep finally takes him. 

HOUR 17

A loud sob wakes Vernon up from deep sleep. He doesn’t even bother to check the time, he just books it to your room. Your door practically slams against the wall. “What’s wrong?” he asks frantically. 

Your head whips around to where he’s standing in the doorway. “You’re here,” you sniffle, somewhat surprised. 

“Umm yes?” 

“I thought you left Alpha. Thought you didn’t want to stay with me.”

Vernon’s heart breaks. How could he be so stupid? He played with your instincts to get you to drink that water last night. Of course you would wake up in a headspace. Part of him wants to go straight to your nest and scent you. Assure you that he’s right here and he’ll be here the whole time. But part of him is fiending to bring you food. Based on the sunlight filtering in through your curtains, it has to have been over 12 hours since your last meal. 

“I slept on the couch bug. To give you some space last night. I’ve been here the whole time. Are you hungry?” You quickly shake your head in denial. “Are you sure? It’s been a while since you’ve eaten.” You stare down at your stomach wordlessly, like it’s going to answer for you. He sighs. “Okay. I’m going to get you some rice. Stay right there. If Alpha isn’t back in 5 minutes you can call out for him okay?” You nod, tentatively. The headspace must be heavy right now. 

As fast as he can, he runs out into the kitchen and heats up a bowl of rice. He debates finding something more nutritious to add to it, but he doesn’t really have the time to. He makes it back to your room in record time. 

“Eat,” he says, setting the bowl in front of you. He frames it as a statement, not a question. If he’s right about the whole headspace thing, you won’t resist. Sure enough, you pick up the fork and start to poke around at the rice. While you eat, he preps another water bottle and grabs a protein bar from your nightstand drawer. 

You eye the protein bar when he sits it down in front of you. “It’s too much,” you say, poutily. 

“Try,” he urges. You pout once more. In the end, you finish the rice and the water, with the protein bar about half eaten. Vernon considers it a win. “Are you feeling better now?”

“Now that you’re here, yeah,” you whisper, tucking your head into his shoulder. 

He reaches down to pet your hair. “I’m sorry I left you in here alone last night. You didn’t really say anything about where to sleep. I didn’t know if waking up to a random alpha would set you off.” 

“I thought it was implied with the whole helping me through my heat thing,” you mumble into his shirt. You pause for a moment, before turning your head to look up at him. “And you’re not a random alpha. I’ve known you for a while now. My omega is comfortable with you.”

The statement is like music to Vernon’s ears. There’s nothing better than knowing your inner omega trusts him and his alpha. “Okay,” he concedes. “‘I’ll sleep in here tonight if you want me to.” 

You nod, but before you can speak, your face twists in pain. “What’s wrong?” he asks as you lean back on the bed.

“Just cramps,” you say, eyes screwed shut. 

“Okay,” he says as he hovers over you. “What can I do?” 

You peek one eye open and smile sheepishly. “I think you know.”

“A knot?” he confirms

You nod, eyes closed once again. “A knot.”

Vernon has to take a deep breath to remember that this is in fact reality, and not a dream. “Where do you want me to start?” he asks, running a finger down your bare arm. 

You shudder in response. “Wherever you want.” 

He sees your shirt ride up a bit, exposing your stomach. Seizing the opportunity, he pulls the shirt even higher, leaning down to press soft kisses to the skin there. His free hand trails down to your thigh and begins to tease. His thumb pushes the end of your shorts upward, lightly brushing over the scent gland there. The contact makes you whine. 

He takes his time with it, gently teasing you through your underwear with slow, agonizing circles on your clit. His other hand grips your thigh while he mouths at the skin of your hip. It leaves you breathless. 

Vernon isn’t much better himself. The scent of your slick is heavy in the air, sweet and enticing. Soft moans fill his ears. It makes him dizzy. 

You must get fed up with the slow pace, because your hips start to wriggle away and you push yourself up on your elbows. “Are you going to give me your knot or what?”

He chuckles at your words and pulls himself up so he’s face to face with you. “So impatient,” he chides. 

Your face twists in annoyance. “Seriously Vernon if you don’t pull your dick out soon I’m going to…”

His lips find yours, cutting you off with a soft kiss. When he finally pulls away, you are silent once again. “Be good for me,” he mumbles, breath tickling your face. He reaches down and begins to pull off his pajama pants. Once you realize what he’s doing, you scramble to do the same. As much as Vernon wanted to undress you himself, the image of you easing your panties down your legs will be burned into his memory forever. 

He runs a finger up the apex of your thigh, then sweeps through the slick collecting in your folds. You gasp and your eyes flutter shut in response. “All this for me?” he teases. Honestly, he expected a snarky response from you, so it takes him by surprise when you eagerly nod.

He pulls his hand away to pump himself a few times. Not that he really needs it, he’s been hard since the words “a knot” left your mouth. You open your eyes once you notice the lack of contact and he watches your line of sight move down. He can practically see the gears turning in your heat-addled brain. “...’s so big.” 

It takes everything in Vernon’s power to not cum on the spot. “Oh god, Bug you can’t say things like that.” 

“Want it in me,” you mumble, reaching out to pull him closer.

He shakes his head. “Gotta stretch you out first.”

A loud whine leaves your throat. “No.”

“Bug seriously, I need to prep you.”

At this, you look up at him through your lashes. Tears begin to well in your eyes and threaten to spill. “Please just fuck me. I can’t take it.”

Vernon can’t even look at you anymore. He squeezes his eyes shut, a never-ending string of “don’t cum, don’t cum, don’t cum,” rattling around in his brain. The mental image of you, the omega of his dreams, crying and begging him to fuck you, is almost too much. 

He gives himself one more second to cool down before lining himself up at your entrance. His tip rubs deliciously against you and he leans down to lick gently at your scent gland. You hum satisfactorily at this. “Tell me if it hurts, okay?” he whispers against your skin.

Once he feels you nod in approval, he pushes in. Your wetness offers little to no resistance and he’s able to bottom out quickly. Though he has to take a second to ground himself, with the way you are gripping him like crazy. He feels you panting against his neck. “Please move,” you finally tell him. And who is Vernon to deny that request? 

Slowly, he starts to move in and out. You writhe at the friction, one hand twisted in the bedsheets and the other pawing at his back. He cringes when he hears the way your slick squelches, but settles once you let out a pretty moan. “Feel good?” he asks.

You nod, little gasps leaving your mouth. He picks up the pace at that. The room fills with the smell of your combined scents and Vernon’s alpha preens. He gets even more of an ego boost when he angles his hips up and you keen as he hits your sweet spot. “Vernon please,” you beg.

“I’ve got you bug,” he breathes. He crooks his hips up a tiny bit more, trying to hit that same spot over and over. It must work because your breath hitches and you clench around him. He can’t help but whimper at the tightness. 

Looking down, Vernon can’t help but think that he wants this to last forever. Your eyes rolled back in pleasure. Both your scents mixing deliciously in the air. The feeling of you wrapped around him. That’s all he can really ask for. Except marriage and a few babies maybe. 

The thought of babies immediately sends his alpha into overdrive and, before he knows it, he’s whispering in your ear. “Gonna fill you up,” he grunts. “Get you nice and round with my pups, yeah?” Once the words leave his mouth, he realizes what he’s done. What if you’re not into that? Are you going to be mad at him? But the garbled “please please please” that leaves your mouth is enough to silence his negative thoughts. 

Maybe it’s the heavenly sounds you’re making or maybe it’s the thought of you pregnant that winds him up, but finally he feels the base of his knot start to swell. It catches slightly on your walls, so he reaches down to play with your clit in an attempt to relax your muscles. 

Fast circles with his thumb seem to do the trick. He buries himself inside you fully and it’s enough to push you over the edge. You spasm around him and he feels a gush of slick drip out of you. The feeling has him cumming immediately in one of the most intense orgasms he’s ever had. Shockwaves run through his body and he has to set his head down on your shoulder. 

When he comes back to, he realizes his knot is already fully inflated. You’re still throbbing and the overstimulation is almost painful. Slowly, he turns so that you are both laying on your sides. Your eyes finally flutter back open and, wow, do you look cock drunk. “Feel better?” he asks.

You roll your eyes but nod at the same time. How cute. “Sleepy,” you mumble, head lolling onto his chest. 

“Okay,” he concedes, knowing better than to stop you. “Sleep well bug.”

He watches as your breathing evens out, waiting for the cue that you are fully asleep. Once he’s sure you aren’t awake, he mumbles a soft “I love you” into your hair. 

HOUR 43

Vernon has never felt so tired in his life. He’s lost count of how many times he’s cum, how many knots he’s given you. He definitely overestimated the influential power of an omega in heat. No matter how hard he tries, it feels impossible to say no to you. 

You’re writhing on the bed underneath him. He’s made you cum with his fingers so many times that they’ve practically shriveled up. “Please Nonie. Want you to fill me up so bad.”

“I don’t think I can,” he tells you gently. 

“Please?” you beg. “I need it.”

He takes a deep breath to reel in his patience. “Bug I think there’s more of my cum in you than there is in me.” 

“It’s still not enough,” you whine. 

This is the most desperate he’s seen you so far. Part of him feels perverted that he enjoys the way you beg for him. Another part of him, mainly his alpha, feels elated.

He listens to your cries a few seconds longer before reminding himself that he may never get to see you like this again. So he makes true to his word, and fills you up again and again and again.

HOUR 61

“I think I only need one more knot,” you tell him, tracing patterns onto his back. The feeling of your finger running gently across his skin makes the hair on his arms prickle. 

“Really?” he asks, turning around to look at you. “We’re barely into day 3.”

You shrug. “I can feel it.” 

He gives you a knowing look. “Do you want it now?” 

After a few moments of thought, you shake your head. “Can we shower first?”

He reaches a hand down to your legs, gently brushing the meat of your thigh. “Can you stand long enough for a shower? Or should I run a bath?” 

“A bath would be nice,” you mumble. 

A soft kiss is pressed to your forehead before he pulls himself out of the nest. His own legs feel like jelly, but he does his best to ignore it. The same way he ignores the small whine that he hears escape your mouth as he leaves the room. He can’t let himself get attached. 

HOUR 62

A strangled gasp leaves your lips as Vernon pushes all the way into you. “...mmm, so much for a bath,” you mutter.

He chuckles into the back of your neck. “You asked for this bug.”

“I know, I ju-just…ah right there. Bath sex is my…my favorite part of heats” you admit. 

“Mmm,” he mumbles. “Should’ve told me that sooner.” 

You lean back to lay full against Vernon’s shoulder. His head sits right next to yours, and he lets himself drop it to rest against the junction of your neck. He loses himself in the sensation of you wrapped around him. 

The rhythm is slow, sensual. But he’s learned enough about your body language that he can tell it’s doing the job. Your walls pulse around him. Your breathing is erratic. Your toes curl and soft moans leave your mouth. He tries to savor it. After all, this is probably the last time he’ll ever see you like this. 

He lets himself indulge a bit this round. His teeth graze your scent gland as he knots you. Nothing close to the bite he wants to put there, but enough to quell the urge that’s been there the past few days. It sets you off once again, cumming for the 2nd time in just minutes. He tries to ignore the fact that you want it just as bad as he does. 

HOUR 72

Days later and your heat finally broken, you find yourself snuggled into the couch with Vernon. The movie you have playing is nothing more than background noise.

“Sooo…didn’t know you had a breeding kink” he teases, poking your foot.

You roll your eyes at him. “Heats were literally created for breeding. Of course I was into it.”

He looks down, trying to hide his embarrassment. “I guess that’s true.”

“What?” you question. “Do you not promise to knock up all the omegas you help through heat?”

Vernon knocks the surprise off his face a split second too late. “No?” The crack in his voice definitely gives him away.

“Vernon!” you exclaim, slapping him on the arm, scandalized. “You did not just let me take your heat virginity!”

Embarrassed, he runs his hands over his face. “Don’t call it that!” he whines. 

You laugh lightheartedly. “If it makes you feel better, I couldn’t tell. You did everything right.” 

Now it’s his turn to roll his eyes. “Except I left you alone that first night.”

You reach out to touch his leg comfortingly. It’s clear that you understand how bad he actually feels about that. “Yeah but it’s not like you got the rundown of what I wanted beforehand. You were just respecting my boundaries.” 

“Yeah, I guess,” he nods, not very convincingly. 

“You’re a good alpha, Vernon.” The statement hits him in the head like a hammer. It rings around in his skull for what feels like hours. 

He peeks up at you shyly. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you tell him with a smile on your face. “You took good care of me. Fed me, kept me clean. And…” your eyes trail down to look at his lips.

“And?”

Nothing would prepare him for the devastation of what you say next. “And I wish you would do that all the time.” Surely you don’t mean that in the way he thinks you do. It’s all about the heat right?

“You don’t want Josh to come back for your next heat?”

You inch closer to him on the couch. “No, I want you. I want you all the time. Not just during my heat.”

Oh. Oh. Realization hits him like a truck. “You like me too?”

“Of course I do. Why else would I ask you to help me this week?”

The words leave his lips before he can catch himself. “Because you had no other option.”

“No you idiot,” you say while smacking his thigh lightly. “I’ve just been too chicken to ask you before.”

Surely this can’t be right. Have you been showing him hints this whole time? Was he just too blind to see it? “You spend your heats with Josh though…” he thinks out loud. 

“He offered to help with my first heat after Johnny left,” you explain. “I called him your name in the middle of it and he’s been begging me to ask you since then. I was scared that you weren’t interested.”

Vernon feels like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. You really do like him back. Before he can stop himself, he leans down and captures your mouth with his. You immediately kiss him back, hooking your arms around his neck. You both stay there for what feels like forever. 

Finally, you pull away to catch your breath, resting your forehead against his. After a moment, a notification from your phone has you reluctantly pulling back. It’s a text from Joshua.

Josh

Sooooo

My flight wasn’t actually delayed

You and Vernon admitted you like each other right?

    You

      I hate you

Josh

Worth it though?

    You           Worth it.

[thr0wnawayy]

Imo the League of Villains should have never existed from the main story of MHA. They were utterly unbalanced and were so flawed that no attempt of fixing could fix them.

I get where your coming from. I

I honestly believe the LOV really needed was time to grow away from the spotlight.

Think of the LOV as leftover pizza (I know, just stick with me for a minute)

Too long in the microwave/oven/pan and it tastes like hardback, too little and it becomes soggy muddled. There's a very specific way you need to do things and that's by not overthinking it.

Hori kept the microwave on too long and the LOV's potential evaporated.

From what I can tell, MHA worked best when it had a 'Villain of the week's type of thing going on.

This was most prominent and best set up with Stain, Stain's character/arc not only expanded the world of MHA but also brought up deeper questions about Hero society

What's most important here is that Stain didn't overstay his welcome. He rolled in, made every panel count and then went out like a champ. Affecting the protagonist and those around him.

He had an impact that's felt throughout the rest of the series (There is no Internship Arc in Ba Sing Se) not inspite of his short lived presence but because of it.

At some point, Hori lost this concept and the plot went with it.

I think the main problem with the LOV started after Kamino. Before this, every member has solid, or at least tangible ideals.

The Vanguard Action Squad was the LOV at it's most raw, not perfect but functional. They felt like people, when Spinner stops Magne from pursuing Midoriya, it feels real for the world.

Simply put the LOV (much like 1A) worked best as individuals, differing worldviews and all.

So when Hori robbed the LOV of their autonomy by practically wrangling them to Shigaraki, it in turn killed the LOV, because now nothing was individual about them.

If you want an example, how about Magne's death. Her last words are the very last time anyone in the LOV asserts any belief besides Shigaraki's own.

After this the LOV barely give any resistance to Shigaraki's plans no matter how short sighted or convoluted.

Kurogiri is outright sacrificed by the narrative so that Shigaraki finally has to step up.

Shigaraki's reaction to Toga's rage and grief follwing Magne's death can be amounted to: "Trust me bro, we're doing this for us bro, please believe me bro."

It's absurd.

As for being flawed, I'll assume you mean their motives.

What needs to be understood is that the LOV (Pre Kamino) and the PLF (Post Kamino) are not the same characters

Flanderisation is the phenomenon of a characters worst traits being exacerbated over a period of time until said character is unrecognizable from their original self.

This is what Hori did the LOV and he did this intentionally.

At some point he realized that the Villains actually had more of a point than the heroes, this likely occured after the MVA arc when fans began rooting for the LOV.

To counter this Hori sabotaged multiple characters and plots in a desperate attempt to justify his woolies and unfortunately for everyone who's isn't an abuser-stan (Enji and Bakuo). The rest of the cast and world suffered greatly.

What you ended up with are characters so detached from their origins that they might as well not even be the same characters at all.

There's an image somewhere that encapsulates this perfectly, it's a 4 panel comic with two stick figures (one black and one blue). If I ever find it or someone links it I'll be sure to upload it here

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Man 8

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Lloyd Hansen

Summary: a demanding customer complicates more than your work life.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You gag into your hand, shaking. You gurgle and shake out your fingers, the motion of the car adding to your sickness. The man beside you growls. 

"What the fuck is your problem?" 

"Eeek, it's so gross," you drag your tongue against the roof your mouth, like a llama about to spit, "it tastes so bad!" 

You give another repulsed noise and shudder. The salty, sticky, sweaty flavour stains your mouth. You feel like you can even smell it. 

"You don't think it tastes gross?" 

"Do you think I taste my own cum?" He snorts. 

"Like I said, the internet--" 

"Maybe you should cut that out and grow up. You might not be knee deep in shit if you did." 

"I-- me. Sir, you're the one--" 

He reaches over and flicks your throat, right in your esophagus, and cough in pain as you fold over. 

"You think your funny? We'll see who's laughing soon enough," he grits as he slaps his hand back on the steering wheel. "Come into my town and.... bullshit... laughing..." 

He rants under his breath as he drives on. You feel the daggers he sends in your direction as he drives. You'd rather he focused on the road because he just blew a red. 

"So... if you're not the mayor..." you begin as you sit up. You see your reflection in the side mirror; yikes.  

"Don't fucking start," he warns and points a finger, hitting the wheel, "I swear you want to die. Don't you?" 

"Mayors don't talk like that so... no," you frown. "Look, Fl-- Lloyd," you enunciate slowly, "you keep saying I should know who you are but I don't, okay?" 

"Are you going to keep talking?" He grumbles. 

"Sorry, sorry," you rub your neck, your throat still throbbing, "I'm... trying." 

"Not hard enough," he sneers, "all you need to know is to shut your mouth and listen. Got it, sweet lips?" 

You nod and cross your arms, "got it." 

He sighs and eases off the gas. You sit forward and crane around. Where the heck are you? You've never been to this end of town. 

"Sit back," he shoves your shoulder so you hit the seat, "can't see through you despite the empty space in your skull." 

You curl your shoulders in and lower your head. Your adrenaline slowly recedes. Oof, that hits hard. Not worse than anything you've been told before but having a moment to think about it, about everything that's happened on the last few hours, it doesn't feel good. 

You languish in the silence and watch the blend of brick and pavement through the car window. This is just another I told you so. Your parents will be all too happy to laugh on your face. And those old friends who kept you around to make themselves feel better. 

He huffs as he slows and rolls up to a large gate, "come on, cheeks, don't get all pouty now. The fun part's not even begun." 

You lean forward to see beyond the gate as it opens at the touch of his phone screen. You can't help but feel awe at the sprawling yard and towering modern mansion. These places only exist on screens. 

"Aw, baby face, you're seeing all sorts of big things today, huh," he scoffs. 

You don't react. He sways dangerous between menacing and mocking. He might not have told you outright who or what he is, but you can guess by his flagrant threats and even more exorbitant wealth. No on is that cocky or that rich through innocent means. 

He rolls through and the gate shuts without prompt. Like a motion sensor or something just as fancy as the rest of this place. You wonder how long it takes the army he no doubt employs for the task to trim and style the lawn. You almost understand why he was so finicky about his coffee. Almost. 

Yet that glimmer of defiance needles in the back of your head. If he's so rich and better than you, why wasn't he hitting some high end place where they infuse their coffee with diamonds or whatever? You suppose he might enjoy feeling like a giant as he walks among the anthills. 

Figuring out this man won't do you any good. Even if you could. None of that matters. You've stepped on his toes and he's not going to let yours go unstomped. 

He pulls in along a row of egregiously expensive luxury cars; one for seemingly every day of the week. It wouldn't surprise you. Well, you’re in such a stupefied state, nothing can. 

His seat belt repeals sharply and he swings open the driver's door. You jolt back and look around. Do you get out too? He slams the door and your doubt is quashed as he taps on the window with his knuckles.  

You undo your belt and feel around the door. Where the heck is the handle? These things have to be so sleek and sophisticated that you can never figure anything out. The door opens before you can find the release and you look up sheepishly at Lloyd.  

You get out and step aside as he shut the door with a flick of his wrist. You peer around and twiddle your thumbs. What exactly happens now? 

You stop short as he heads toward the stone steps along the house's facade. You're struck by a startling epiphany. He might be right about you in some ways. How did it take this long to realise?  

You've been abducted. 

He stops at the door and looks back at you, "look, honey bun, I'm getting fucking tired. Stop pussyfooting around and come on." 

"Um, sir, F--Lloyd," you put your hands up, "Mr. Hansen, so, when do I get to go home because this feels kinda... entrapment-y." 

"If I have to drag you," he snaps. 

"Alright, alright," you keep your palms put and scurry forward, "I'm just asking questions. It's been a strange day." 

"Fucking tell me about it," he mutters. "Ah, ah, sweet lips," he puts hisbarm out to block you from the front door, "rule one: beyond these doors, you're naked. That's it. Full access all the time." 

You double take. Full on Three Stooges pantomime. You nearly fall on your ass. 

"Wh-at?" Your voice catches. 

"If I have to keep repeating myself--" he warns. 

"But what if I get cold?" 

"Oh my fucking god," he grabs you by the shoulders and turns you to face him, "I should fucking break that jaw." 

He claws at your shirt and rips it up your body. You flinch with the force of his rude undressing. You squeak as he untangles your tee then shoves down your sweats, nearly taking your undies with them. He snaps the elastic with his index. 

"Everything, baby girl," he demands and glares at you, crossing his arms. His cheek twitches and his jaw squares. Without the lip fur he might be decent. 

You wiggle free of your pants and step out of them, then your panties. Your bra gives you some trouble as one of the hooks is bent. As you stand naked out in the summer breeze you feel strangle calm. It's kind of freeing. 

You look at him and find him eyeing you up and down; that's a little more oppressive. You make a face. "Shoes off or..." 

"Everything. Fuck, you gotta ruin it with that mouth," he barks and turns to strut through the door, "...drive me fucking insane...for what...pussy?" 

You stare after him and exhale, stepping over the threshold. A lot has happened and you still haven't got your head around it all. Maybe it's better that way.

[phan3145]

Title: Slippery Slope. Fandom: Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes. Rating: T. ( Cursing, almost drowning) Pairing: Eventual Noa x Human!Reader.

Chapter 1: Seven Months Ago

Noa

It wasn’t very cold this late in the season thankfully, but the constant rain made a chill cling to his body. Anaya and Soona walked next to him, the misting of water clinging to their fur and making it stand on end. It seemed as if it was finally ready to stop for a short period though, he noticed the dark clouds above head dissipating. Soona, seeing the same thing, shook her body to clear it of the remaining water. She sighed happily as Anaya chose to copy her, more obnoxious as he purposely shook to throw water back onto Soona. She hissed playfully before hooting, pointing forward at the younglings in lesson down by the creek with his mother.

He kept his eyes peeled for any potential threat, Eagle Sun visibly gliding overhead. He had a weird feeling about today, one that left him on edge as he continued to scan their surroundings. Anaya attempted to say something amusing to get his attention, but it was ignored in favor of his need to focus.

He heard Soona scoff and hoot behind him, but he truthfully hadn’t heard a word Anaya said. He stopped abruptly when he saw movement across the creek, or at least, he thought he had. It was downwind, so even as he scented the air, he wouldn’t be able to detect anything. Nothing that could threaten his clan outright.

“ You are…distracted.” Soona questioned, “Worried?”

Anaya hooted, “Too serious…now that he is leader…why not go…down and have fun…with younglings…elder?”

“Why?” He questioned, turning to bat at Anaya. “When you are here.”

Soona hooted as Anaya jumped and avoided his swings, “The creek is high…perhaps smart..to be on look out…Dar should have waited…until drier to take…younglings out.”

“Mother knows…what’s best…never would put young ape…in danger.” He reasoned, another flash of movement across the creek once again stilling him. “Besides…who knows when rain…will stop for good.”

He made motion for Soona and Anaya to follow him, making their way down the muddy, uneven embankment to the edge of the water, where his mother and the younglings were. She was teaching them about high waters and how the fish migrate, how rough waters mean fishing that day would be near impossible for Eagle. Instead, learning to build wooden traps for fish, allowing Eagle to rest while they hunted.

The moment the three of them descended the creek bank, all concentration by the younglings was lost. They rushed over to meet the infamous Sunset Trio, chasing after Anaya as he ran around them, and grasping at Soona’s decorations when she crouched to greet them. He made his way towards his mother, a few younglings silently trailing after him. It was a reminder that as the new Master of Birds there was a sort of reverent respect that came with that.

“Hah!” he exclaimed, jumping around to face the younglings. They fell on top of one another and hooted their enjoyment at the scare before running off to join Soona or Anaya.

He hooted lowly to himself with no small amount of pride. Who was the elder now? He didn’t need reverent respect. He didn’t feel as if he had fully earned it. Not like his mother…not like his…

“Son,” his mother called warmly. “Nice to see you bonding…with younglings for once…You seem…concerned…what troubles you?”

His mother, ever observant, as he leaned down to touch heads with her in a brief greeting. He tried to be discreet as his eyes trailed over that same spot across the creek where movement had been. From this vantage point he could see that there was nothing, but still scented the air to be sure.

He caught a whiff of small game, rabbit or a raccoon perhaps. Another whiff made him think again…perhaps skunk. His mother followed his line of sight, returning her gaze to him after a moment as she signed, I’ve noticed all lesson. Subtle movement, but does not leave or reveal itself. I think, no threat.

He huffed, returning her message, If no threat, why sign?

“Better to be safe…Just in case…though the creek…does provide safety…from anything on that side.”

She was right of course, the creek now mirrored a small river, swollen from the rain. It’s height would be more concerning if it wasn’t for the fact the bank’s own height could hold three times the creeks height. He imagined a long time ago more water existed than what does today, making it impossible to trek from one side to the other.

Most animals could swim, but not ape. They didn’t have much of an advantage if something wanted to cross and attack. An elder such as his mother and a group of younglings? It would be too easy. He never had to worry about such matters before, never had anyone truly depend on him making the right decisions. How did Koro do it? How did he make it look so effortless?

His eyes hadn’t strayed from that part of the creek, waiting for any type of movement to alert him of another presence, but his gaze remained distant as his thoughts danced around him. His mother saw that far off look and slowly placed a gentle palm on his forearm, knowing that what her son’s eyes were looking at was not what he was seeing. In that way, he reminded her so much of Koro. His concentration was broken then, finally turning away from the vegetation and to the chimpanzee who raised him. He offered an apologetic look, the gentle motion allowing him to take a breath and relax into her touch.

Of course, the relief didn’t last long. There was a shifting and a rumble in the ground that caused everyone to freeze in place. It ended almost as soon as it started, his instincts telling him something was wrong. Again, he scented the air, only smelling his clan and the wet ground. Then, Soona hooted for his attention, pointing wildly up stream.

He noticed water, much like the salty waves that had been present at Proximus’ kingdom, descending towards them. He remembered then. There was a dam far upstream…and he could only conclude that the deafening noise and shift of ground was from it breaking. The harsh build up of rain that had been relentless, it must have overwhelmed the decaying structure.

Without wasting any time he called out, “Climb!”

He began to help his mother out of the creek bed, making sure she was secure on higher ground before racing to help Anaya and Soona further up stream. They were hoisting younglings up the bank, which had become unstable. A few had reached the top, only to slide back down from the ground giving way beneath them.

He saw the wave gaining momentum in the distance, the creek water already rising at their feet. He screeched for attention, ordering, “Soona…Anaya…go up top. Grab younglings from…safe footing.”

They did as he instructed, sliding a few times themselves before reaching the top. They backed up a step or two as the soil crumbled beneath their feet along the edges. He immediately began handing younglings up to them, whimpering and crying in fear as each one waited for their turn. Once up, they would run to his mother, who waited at the edge of the tree line, keeping track of them all and making sure they stayed back and out of the way.

Soona began to have a panicked look on her face the longer it took to get the younglings up. He ignored it, turning away to grab the last two before he heard her call, “Noa…the water!”

He didn’t waste time looking, holding a youngling by the scruff of their neck in each hand, before practically throwing them up into Soona and Anaya’s outstretched arms. He felt their weight released from his grip just as the wave had struck his side. He thrust his body forward and for a moment, digging his palms and feet into the moist soil of the side, he believed that it would hold him.

It did prevent the initial wave from taking him…but the rushing current was too strong for the loose dirt beneath his grip began to melt and crumble between his fingers.

“No..no…no!” he called as he felt his body be pulled away from safety. He kept trying to grip the soil as Anaya and Soona chased after him, knowing if he could just hold on for a few seconds one of their arms would be there for him to grasp onto.

It was not to be, as a log came charging rapidly towards him. He couldn’t have avoided it, feeling his body be knocked under the water as it slammed into him. Pain exploded in his left arm from the impact, and as the water carried him further under he felt his body roll and tumble against the sediment at the bottom of the creek.

Small rocks ground into his fur and scraped his nose, disorienting him further before he found a way to kick from the ground and burst back to the surface. Taking a large gulp of air, he was brutally reminded of another situation similar to this. Just then, another rush of water forced him under. The scars of Proximus and his Kingdom were more than skin deep, as he felt fear churn his stomach, more so than the water that churned his body. He heard Soona calling his name, somehow managing to breach the surface again. Anaya was screeching in a panic as he attempted to keep pace with his body being carried down stream. Anaya had always had been the fastest amongst the three.

He found himself submerged again, only for a moment as the creek had been shallower here, his feet instantly catching on the bottom before the current catapulted his body forward again. He tried thinking of a way to get out of the water, before his body lost the will to fight the current. Breaking to the surface, he noticed movement up ahead, on the opposite side of the creek from where he had been. That same flurry of movement he had seen before in the corner of his eye. It’s then he noticed the drop off from the creek. It wasn’t high, in comparison to the heights he’s fallen from, but the pool of water beneath it was deep. If he went down he’d never come back up.

Body going under once more in the torrid rapids of the raging water, he found himself thrown towards the middle of the creek, further away from Anaya and Soona on his left. He had a choice to make then and was running out of time to make it. With determination to reach the opposite side and stop himself, he willed his body into a crouch under water, forcing it not to tumble forward. In this position, he used all four limbs to launch himself from the bottom of the creek, angling his body towards the right.

So close still, he heard Anya and Soona relentlessly calling out to him, but further away from them now as he reached for anything in sight. The vegetation towards the edge, the rocks along the sides of the bank covered in slippery moss; he hoped against hope that something would not give way under his weight. In vain, he saw the drop approach, desperation heightening his fear amid the crushing force of the water. Then, he saw an arm suddenly thrusted out for him to grab.

He took it, not hesitating nor having the time to notice what kind of arm he was desperately grasping hold of. He sputtered up water once he stopped moving, taking in a full breath of air that shook his water logged lungs. He heard a whine above him then, head snapping up when he realized he was merely being suspended in the raging water, not being pulled out. He realized then, it wasn’t an ape arm holding him. Tanned, hairless flesh greeted him as he followed the length of the arm up to lock eyes with the straining female Echo above him.

Aghast amazement filled his eyes as she struggled to support him. It was more impressive she was able to stop him at all, surely he thought his weight would overpower her. A coil of rope was around the arm grasping his, and she made a motion to loop it around his other arm and shoulder. Here, he did hesitate, but the crunching sound of her feet sliding against the rock made him realize…it was either trust her, or take her down with him.

He did as she instructed, letting the loop encircle him under his arms and around his shoulders. She glanced behind her before looking back to him. She motioned with her left hand to grip the rope. He did as she wanted, and he felt her grip on him loosen. He panicked, clasping onto her hand tighter. Her face scrunched in pain before she once more gestured for him to grip the rope. That’s when it dawned on him.

She intended to let go.

He couldn’t see if the rope was secure to anything besides himself and the girl. The idea filled him with fear, but feeling debris start to brush against him it was only a matter of time before something bigger came along like that first log. He nodded once at her, bracing himself as he released her hand and gripped the rope. He went back under the water, his heart stopping at the notion that he might not resurface this time, before a harsh lurch returned him to the surface. He tightened his grip, eyes closing briefly before opening them to find his bearings. Looking up, the girl was gone.

Then, he felt the rope pulling him. It was slow, but big lurches at a time had his body steadily rising from the water. He hooted, reaching for the edge of the rock the girl had grabbed him from, attempting to pull himself up. The current was still very strong and he noticed he had suddenly lost his advantage. He was no longer being pulled upwards, freezing midair with only half of his body out of the water. His feet scrambled for purchase under water, his upper body muscles screaming as he tried to move with no real leverage. Just as he thought he wouldn’t be able to lift himself from this vantage, the girl had returned, poking her head over the edge of the rock.

She tugged on his arm, her gaze shifting across the creek for a moment before releasing him as if his fur had burned her. She made as if to back away, then looked down at him once more. He saw her swallow, look behind herself, then further up the river. Her eyes locked with his, steeling herself for he didn’t know what. Suddenly, she was crouched in front of him.

His shock was obvious when her arms went under his, a gasp leaving his mouth as she pressed herself cheek to cheek with him. Time seemed meaningless then, being enveloped this close to her, the newness of her scent flooding his senses. He felt her jaw clench, heard the deep breath she took before she began to pull him up with, what he imagined was, all of her might. Time resumed, he began pushing himself forward as she pulled, trying to assist her as much as possible.

The tips of his fingers were starting to crack open, some already bleeding as he refused to release his grip from the rough surface of the rock below him. Once the majority of his body was over the ledge, he heard the girl grunt, using her weight as a counter balance, leaning back and pulling his weight into her lap. From here, his feet kicked off the side of the rock, gaining momentum to throw himself forward the rest of the way.

He was out of the water, having just enough mind to roll to the side as his body collapsed in relief. He was still partly on top of the girl, her arm and shoulder pinned under him. She didn’t protest though, her body having fallen sideways too. Both of them were panting, more than willing to take a moment to relax now that their excursion had ended. He raised his head to face her fully, grateful beyond words as their eyes locked onto one another. It shouldn’t have been a surprise, given the circumstances of what had just happened, but he only now noticed the intelligence that was held in her exhausted gaze. He blinked once, a thousand questions flooding his mind. He blinked twice and the realization must have shown on his face, for in the next instant he felt her arm frantically wriggling out from beneath his weight.

He was too slow to react as she fell backwards in an attempt to free herself from him. His shock wore off as she scooted away on all fours, springing to her feet. He attempted to do the same, watching her bolt for the tree line in front of them. He thought surely he could catch her before she vanished, gaining ground quickly on all fours. He lunged for the material of her clothing before he was harshly reminded of the rope.

One minute he was on her heels, and the next thing he knew his face was planted into the ground. His pride more wounded than anything, he hissed as he looked up at her retreating form amongst the vegetation. He pulled the offending rope off of him, showing no gratitude even though it had just saved his life. He huffed, ready to charge forward when he was reminded once more of the world around him.

“Noa!” Soona called from across the creek.

He stopped then, turning to see her and Anaya waving with concerned looks on their faces. He grunted, waving his arm in a sign that he was okay, his focus drawn once again to the tree line next to him.

“Noa…no…don’t!” He heard Anaya yell in warning.

Soona was quick to join in, “Just meet back…up river…go home…don’t chase!”

He swallowed, frustrated as his breaths came in quicker bursts. He contemplated letting the Echo go, forgetting any of this had even happened. He wiped excess water from his face, looking up to see Eagle Sun flying above the tree tops… further into the woods. Tracking. He was tracking the Echo. With that, his mind was made up.

“Get everyone…home safe.” He called to Soona and Anya. “I will…return…by nightfall.”

With no time to listen to their cries of protest, he launched himself into the woods in search of the Echo girl who had just saved him. The only thing that ran through his mind as he pursued her tracks, was a single sentence.

Here we go again.

[ropebunnykant]

i actually cannot get over how much kant and his outlook have completely fucking changed since ep8. like we see hints of it throughout ep8 and 9, but the scene that drives it home is when he's convincing bison to let him help.

like he just the way he talks to bison about it all, it sounds almost like a threat. i am GOING to help you start over, we are GOING to have our future together, even if i have to take down everyone in our way. he doesn't phrase it like a discussion because he's telling bison outright that he's gonna help him whether he likes it or not. but he also doesn't frame it with any doubt. kant believes, wholeheartedly, that they are going to make it out of this and figure it out.

and it's just... it's such a contrast to who he was in the first six episodes. kant spent so much of his life resigned to everything. he never had a choice in anything he did, never had hope that things would work out for him. in ep6 he had to resign himself to the fact that there was no way for him to win, no way out where he was happy because he was going to lose someone no matter what he did. he looked at style's hope and dismissed it because he didn't think it was for him, that nothing had ever worked out for him before, he had no reason to believe this would.

like i keep thinking about kant in that interview from before the show aired, saying he doesn't have any dreams. i think about kant in ep5 saying that if he hadn't had other things going on, he may have actually had the potential to play basketball professionally. i think about kant in ep9 saying he never got to play as a kid, either, cause he had to grow up fast to take care of babe. kant, who spent his whole life taking care of his brother and never got to live for himself. kant, who never dared to dream, never dared to hope, now dreaming and hoping and willing to do anything he can to get himself and the man he loves the life they deserve.

i said that kant jumping in the water was a baptism, and i think seeing this new version of kant proves it so much. when kant jumped into the water, he left that old version of him behind. he woke up after that, in a warm bed, in clean clothes, safe and dry, and he knew without a doubt that bison loved him and wouldn't hurt him. and that revelation alone allowed him to finally, for once, see a future for himself. bison saw kant as a way out in the beginning, and that's exactly what kant knows bison as now. his way out, his future, his hope. and the fact that he isn't willing to take no for an answer, that he's not only sure but willing to fight and do whatever needs to be done to get them that future.

like it's just. kant, finally beloved and not willing to let that love go no matter what it takes. kant, the powerless, now kant, taking back his power. kant, the resigned, now kant, the fighter. kant, the hopeless now kant, the hopeful.

[tuesdaykiss]

“touching toes”

rafe cameron social media au

“he’s over more and more, had to give him a whole drawer. to be honest, kinda like seeing his trainers by the door.” — olivia dean, ‘touching toes’.

synopsis: after finishing her fashion studies at college in nyc, y/n moves to outerbanks to live with her grandparents. she worries about the loneliness that comes with being in a new place, knowing only her cousin topper and other relatives… that is until she is acquainted with a certain cameron.

part - 23 | 24 | 25

masterlist

The plan was simple: keep your relationship with rafe under wraps for as long as possible. you knew the potential of the pogues having a strong reaction, and you weren’t ready to face the fallout just yet. but as with most things involving rafe, the universe had other plans.

it started innocently enough. you and rafe had stolen a quiet moment together at the marina, tucked away on his boat, enjoying the sunrise as you celebrated your new relationship. a beautiful display of fruits and pastries layed out in front of you both — a lovely surprise from rafe.

your story

his arm slung casually over your shoulders as he leaned in to kiss you, his lips warm and soft against yours as he didn’t have to worry about being caught with how quiet the marina was at such hour.

… or so he thought.

you didn’t hear the footsteps approaching until it was too late.

“wait… what the fuck?”

the voice cut through the peaceful morning like a knife, and you froze, pulling back from rafe to see jj, pope and kiara standing only a few feet away on the dock, their expressions ranging from shock to outright betrayal.

you had never involved yourself with the pogues and kooks rivalry, ever since your arrival. staying well away from the dramatics, you had even questioned the reasons as to why there was so much tension.

“oh my god,” kie said, her eyes wife as she glanced between you and rafe in disbelief, “tell me this isn’t what it looks like.”

you scrambled to your feet, guilt twisting in your stomach. “guys, it’s not— well, okay, it is what it’s looks like, but just— let me explain…”

“explain what?” jj shadows, his facial expression a mix of confusion and anger. “that you’re hooking up with rafe cameron? that’s messed up, y/n.”

“jj—“

“no,” he interrupted, pointing at rafe. “this guy has been making our lives miserable for years, and now, you’re just… what, dating him?”

“jj, calm down,” sarah’s voice cut through the rising tension as she approached the group from behind, her presence immediately drawing everyone’s attention. “it’s not like she’d know that, she hasn’t exactly been here long.”

your body filled with gratitude as sarah had come to your defence, though the pogues did not share the same feelings about the situation.

“sarah,” pope said, his tone sharp, “did you know about this?”

suddenly, all of the tension had shifted towards sarah, as the group looked at her impatiently, demanding a response.

“i did,” she admitted, stepping closer, “but before you freak out even more, i think you should hear her out.”

jj threw his hands up, “seriously? you’re okay with this? he’s your brother… and— and”

sarah’s gaze hardened, a firmness in her voice now as she spoke, “and i’m also her friend. look, i get it— it’s shocking. but you all know how complicated my family is. rafe isn’t perfect, trust me i know. but if y/n sees something in him, don’t you think we owe it to her to at least listen?”

the group fell silent, her words sinking in.

“guys,” you said softly, your voice trembling slightly. “i know how it looks. i know rafe has done a lot of bad things to you all, before i arrived, and i’m not excusing any of that. you have a right to be mad, but he’s… different with me. he’s trying, and i care about him.”

“care about him?” jj scoffed, “y/n, this is rafe cameron we’re talking about. the same guy who—“

“i know,” you stopped him, meeting his gaze. “i know who he is, jj. but this… what we have, it’s real. and it’s my decision.”

kie crossed her arms, her expression torn, “but why didn’t you tell us?”

you sighed, guilt weighing heavily on your chest, “i was scared, okay? i knew you wouldn’t approve, and i didn't want more judgement and lectures. it’s new, and i just wanted to figure it out for myself first.”

jj shook his head, “so what? you sneak around with him behind our backs?”

“enough,” rafe finally spoke, you’d almost forgotten he was present. his voice was calm, “look, i get it. you guys hate me, and rightfully so, i’ve earned it — i’m sorry. but this isn’t about you… it’s between me and y/n. and whether you like it or not, i’m not going anywhere.”

jj stepped closer, glaring at rafe. “you’ve got some nerve, cameron. after everything you pulled—“

“stop it, jj!” sarah interjected, placing a hand on his chest to prevent him from moving closer, “you are not helping!”

pope, who had been silent for a while finally spoke, “y/n, do you really trust him?”

you looked at pope, your eyes softening, “i do. he’s trying to be better, for himself… for me.”

sarah nodded, backing you up, “i’ve seen it too, he’s different with her. you’re all grown now, this high school rivalry needs to stop. if y/n is happy isn’t that what’s important?”

the group fell silent, as they dwelled on sarah’s words.

finally, kiara sighed, her expression softening, “i don’t like it,” she admitted, “but, if you’re sure about this… we’ll tolerate him.”

pope nodded reluctantly, “yeah, we’re your friends, y/n. we support you… even when we don’t understand it.”

jj groaned but threw his hands up in defeat, “fine! but if he screws up even one, i’m coming for him!”

rafe smirked, his confidence returning, “noted.”

you let out a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding, relief washing over you. “thank you,” you said quietly, your voice full of gratitude. rafe watched as the five of you huddled together in a hug, smiling at the support system you had around you: perhaps, the pogues weren’t so bad — and for you, he’d change his perspective.

your friends had promised to notify cleo and john b of their so-called truce with the kook, for you.

as the tension eased and the pogues began to begrudgingly accept the new reality, you glanced at rafe. he gave you a small, reassuring smile, and in that moment you knew you’d made the right choice. you could do anything, with him — and the pogues — by your side… even tell the internet that you’d ‘stolen’ their boyfriend.

“beach?” jj suggested to the pogues, pulling you from your thoughts. the one word causing pure delight amongst your friends, as they began parading down to the shore, boards and towels in hand.

“you coming?” you smiled at rafe, dragging him along by his hand as you laughed.

your camera roll

jjmaybank

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jjmaybank weird day man, weird day

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sarahcameron enemies to lovers?

jjmaybank @/yourusername come to steal your man

yourusername knew i shouldn’t have introduced you

heywardpope finally we got someone who is better than you at volleyball

jjmaybank no one is better than me at volleyball 🥸

rafecam 1 v 1 me tomorrow

a/n: first of all, sorry for no chapter yesterday… i’m not sure if i can get one out tomorrow i am really busy but i PROMISE sunday i’ll be BACK!

i hate this chapter low-key, but i needed her to tell the pogues asap so i can just focus on them being cute and in love x

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