#first time drawing garbage man

[desterea]

more mystic malfunction posting! my second favorite scene from the latest chapter, I want @vanillavengeance to know it was very much appreciated

[yjhzies]

“Let the world know.” — Jeon Wonwoo

⸝⸝୭ ˚. fluff . one-shot

⋆ pairings : wonwoo x gn!reader ⋆ warning : none! (let me know if there is ^^) ⋆ wc : 0.5k [✉️] · discovering a secret admirer that's not your boyfriend...

⋆ - note : (4 the req) MUAHAHA WE DEF HAVE LOTS OF THOUGHTS ON JEALOUS WONU🔥 (but lets keep it out of here...!) I think we both need to touch grass... I havent even touched actual grass even though I go outside everyday 😝 is somebody gonna match my freak??

"Baby, you have a letter and a parcel from someone..."

Wonwoo said, walking in through the front door with a letter in one hand and a parcel in the other, staring at the letter and flipflopping it.

As he placed the package on the table, you looked from the TV to your boyfriend.

"Really? Who sent it?" You inquired, rising from the couch and walking over to Wonwoo.

He shrugged as he handed you the letter. "It doesn't have a name in it."

You frown, taking the letter from him. As Wonwoo begins to open the securely wrapped package, you unfold the letter and begin to read.

"Dear Y/N, this is a letter to express my admiration and gratitude to you. You may not know me, but I am one of the hundreds who admire you from afar. I've always found you beautiful, and I wanted to let you know that I've liked you for a long time n-" You pause, realizing where this was going.

You peek over Wonwoo's shoulder to see him staring at the package, looking shocked. Your gaze lands in the direction where he was staring, and there were roses. Red roses.

You fold the letter and set it aside as you stand beside him.

"Come on, Wonu, it's not like I don't already have thousands of letters already. But, I wouldn't mind another one!" You chuckle, assuming it is Wonwoo sneaking you letters for the nth time, acting like a secret admirer.

"Gross."

Wonwoo said, glaring at the roses through his glasses on the table. You raise your head to look at him and tilt your head.

"Huh?"

"Look at those," he said, reaching out to take one of the roses. "This isn't even the colour you like."

"I can literally buy a million times better one!" He scoffed. "And most importantly, doesn't he know the person he just confessed to has a boyfriend? How weird."

You freeze.

You stand there, stunned as Wonwoo points out every tiny imperfection, your eyes widening as you try to register everything in your brain.

"It's not yours?"

You ask, but judging by the expression on his face, you already know the answer is no.

"I can write a better letter, don't you think?" He raised his eyebrows.

You nod your head, trying to suppress a smile. With a proud nod, he reaches out to rewrap the package before picking it up and tossing it in the garbage can.

"I'll tell the delivery man to return it to whoever sent it," he said, turning to you with a slight pout. He draws you in for a hug, encircling your waist with his arms held tightly but not painfully.

"I can buy you millions of better flowers, you don't need others when I'm here." He said, and you finally let out a chuckle as you noticed the sulkiness in his voice.

"I know, Wonu," you say, patting his back. "I would have rejected it anyways, but I surely am endeared by a jealous Wonwoo."

Glancing down, he covers his face with your neck as he blushes. "I wish I could keep you all to myself, but you're so beautiful, everyone wants you and it's hard to do so."

"First of all, I should be saying that. And second, they're not the one I want, It's you."

"I know, but," he says, pulling back to kiss your lips. "I'll want to let the world know that you're mine and I'm yours."

[skay-ali]

The Forgotten Daughter

well I finally did it.

first of all merry christmas and enjoy the chapter

Dear family

This may be sudden... I don't even know why I'm writing this letter anymore, it was supposed to be about the big decision I made that would change my life, but even so I don't know why I'm leaving explanations.

My plan was always to never see you again, each of you, I still feel very hurt by everything, although I know that these words will not make a big change in you.

But enough berating them, I'm not racking my brain to find the right words for a letter full of complaints.

I was always a girl who avoided problems or at least I like to think I was, Father, brothers and my dear confidant Alfred, despite getting into big trouble.

The lights were flashing brightly, the music at full volume filled the room, it was very hot due to the sweat that all the bodies were emanating, you watched all the visitors of the club go crazy with euphoria after a few drinks and continued with a long list of crazy things, you On the contrary, you decided that it was one of those depressive days, where you spent your time seeing the bad side of everything and being miserable.

You didn't follow your friends to any of their craziness; on the contrary, you stayed in a place at the bar away from everyone, along with a few glasses full of a low-grade cherry-flavored liquor.

You still taste the light cherry flavor on your palate. There were so many liquors on the shelf, many of different sizes, appearances, names, years and strengths, you wondered if anyone ever drank them all, if there was a person who in his miserable, boring, short life provokes every liquor on the restaurant's menu. bar.

You looked away when you heard the sound of a chair being moved, you saw a man taller than yours, with a somewhat abrupt but attractive appearance. You took another sip from your glass and returned to your thoughts as you watched the people on the dance floor doing stupid things.

Or so you tried, but by discreetly observing the actions of the man near your seat, it was enough to capture your full attention, to what that guy does in his notebook with his pencil.

“What an artist,” you addressed the subject sitting one seat away from you, “what are you doing in a place as crazy as this?” You turned your gaze to the man with blue-black hair, as you watched him take a sip of his drink and draw with his pencil.

Their eyes connected when the man decided to leave his world and pay attention to your beginning of interaction, he couldn't look away in time, although you didn't blame him, you did the same before because of the curiosity you felt when he saw him, you felt like everything was coming together.

He paused, just him and you, as if the two of you were the only ones in a large room of strangers.

A smile left your lips when you saw the man's dazed attitude, he was so lost in himself that it seems that he forgot about your beginning of conversation until a moment later.

Still, you were afraid that it wasn't nerves that the man was feeling but anger or annoyance at your interaction with him.

“Even if you don't believe it, inspiration can be found in unlikely places… Or even sometimes a muse” came those calm words from his thick but reassuring and animated voice.

You were relieved to hear him speak, but those words that had no sign of annoyance or complaints.

“uhh it's like that... I only saw this place as a garbage dump full of vices” you didn't know how you were still trying to maintain an interaction with that person, perhaps prolonging the feeling of company instead of the one of loneliness sounded more attractive.

“You should look at it from other perspectives, so you'll find things like this” you saw him tear a page out of his notebook without blinking and put it on your forehead.

You were surprised to see your drawing on the paper. Every feature of yours delicately captured with each stroke of the pencil on the paper.

“wow you left me speechless for a moment” you disconnected your gaze from the sheet you had in your hands.

“You are actually a great artist” the drawing was extremely beautiful, you never considered yourself a very beautiful woman, it was common for you to see all your flaws before your best qualities, seeing that paper where you felt that in that drawing you were perfect caused you a feeling emotion and a passing confidence.

However, you couldn't get it out of your head to see yourself drawn in other ways on paper, like a cartoon or Japanese version of yourself; before this moment, you never even had the chance to sit on a bench and wait for an artist to draw you. .

“What's wrong with that face, you look disappointed, maybe you're kidding me” you heard him joke.

“No no… no… on the contrary, I really like it” you quickly defended yourself, afraid of offending the man.

“It's just that..” you felt shy when explaining your reasons, especially when he had an attentive gaze on you.

You saw his eyes wait expectantly for your words.

“You know, the drawing is beautiful, but… even though it sounds silly, I wish I could see myself more in a cartoon or comic” you laughed nervously, after your babbling.

“ahh, are you a comic book lover or something?”

“Yes, well it's something like that” you liked to read some series in comic magazines from time to time, but you preferred mangas, you hid this preference, you weren't going to receive a few words of displeasure for that or start a debate about what genre it was.

Better, much less explain what they were if I didn't know what you were referring to.

“I think I can fix that,” the guy said with an animated and funny voice.

You watched him, fascinated, by how he held his book with enthusiasm, his hands moved quickly from one side to the other on the white sheet, the pencil was handled quickly, you could tell that he had a lot of experience with the ease with which he did it.

It was a long night, between different conversations and laughter with the new guy you met, the night became more tolerable with the man by your side.

Between drinks and meaningless talks, laughter on both sides, silly dances on the floor full of people, just two fools doing the most pathetic steps they had plus some little improvised old waltzes, it ended in a new day with two sleepless but falices talking in a viewpoint of a building that showed the entire city.

Oh, father, you don't know how enchanted I was with that man I met on one of my many outings to parties, I was stupid and childish, but I still allowed myself to dream and love.

You didn't expect to meet again with such a man with whom you managed to connect, but that's how it happened, destiny somehow led them to meet.

You liked having a new person in your circle, with whom you managed to get along so well.

From talking about his work as an artist, giving his opinion on different comics and mangas that they knew, talking about animation to becoming hoarse from speaking with so much emotion and passion with long monologues.

They visited many hidden places in the big city in their days of adventures, even if they were alleys that were not very crowded, now that you think about it, such a careless action was very crazy, but the beautiful places, with new views, like an alley full of colorful fabrics and with different designs that hung over the street, the walls of a neighborhood full of drawings with different artistic techniques, but with many bright colors, the tall buildings that showed views of the entire city.

The days of movies with crazy plots, but that had you glued to the screen to see what happened next.

The rare meals from the carts or street stalls, which they consumed without problems while they sat to observe the lights of the city or the dark sky, accompanied by silence, but the two of them together.

In that moment where the two were together and talking, you felt that they were exchanging many words of great importance to both of them, but seen from other perspectives they were nothing more than insignificant.

That's what love did, right?

And all for one crazy night where you hope to go crazy on alcohol, after sinking into a self-compose for your life.

You will never be able to forget when he gave you his name and you gave him yours... well, half of it, you admit to having lied to him, even if you regretted it, you already knew the problems they would bring you later.

Well at least that's what you thought, you had no idea of ​​the true consequences.

You only thought about the fear of telling him your real last name, that he would look for you and know who you really were, you were afraid that he would see you differently, no longer a strange girl he met in a bar, but the daughter of a millionaire with a history. questionable life, the mere thought of him using you was too much.

So you avoided him by mentioning the amazing last name “Wayne” and mentioning a fake one.

More specifically, that of your false identification, something crazy that you did in your wild adolescence was left to be useful in your future, that false identification that you made with your friends from school to visit different clubs, you used it when you became independent, so that no one It will bother you in your new life.

“_____ , _____ Jones” unsurely you stated your name, you still remember when you made the false identifications with your friends and among all of them you were looking for a new name and surname for the others, you kept your name and they gave you the last name of the protagonist of the book of fashionable at the time because of the film that adapted the story.

A mental chuckle caused you to remember this along with the taunts they threw at you about where your diary was.

“Kayle, Kyle Rayner,” the boy smiled as he introduced himself.

You followed his smile, something in his ended up infecting you. Just two fools in a bar telling each other their names and being ignorantly happy.

It's a shame that that happiness ended some time later, when you never saw Kyle again. Even with a card for him to contact you, you never heard from him.

You woke up happy, in his apartment, the day after spending a night together, alone, without any sign that the man was home, without any note or notice, you waited excitedly for him to return, but he never did, even when you left a message. letter and ways for me to contact you again if the ones they already had didn't work, you never knew anything.

Maybe it was all an adventure and you got carried away... they never clarified what they were, hell maybe he didn't even consider you a friend.

But you and I know, father, that all the fairy tales one creates end quickly, most of the time in the worst ways.

I ended up with a broken heart, still, I kept good memories... and her.

I know it is late, very late, as it has been for many years, but I must confess it, because no parents and siblings would want to know it in the worst possible ways….

Alice Wayne, my dear baby….

You leaned back in your chair as you wrote the last sentence, you did it, you wrote what was overwhelming you so much, the beginning of the letter.

Your eyes burned, a few treacherous tears running down your face.

Your family, your passing love and your beloved daughter always made you sensitive.

It wasn't something you could avoid.

You leaned your head on the headboard of the chair, letting all the blood flow to your head, something strange you used to do to clear your head, you looked at the ceiling and the walls around you upside down.

You noticed the crib on the side of the room near your desk where you were writing.

You saw your baby sleeping calmly, a peaceful face with no signs of discomfort, he was an angel.

Your little angel, and your light... you knew you would do anything for her, like you did right now.

I think if we are similar in some way father.

I ended up having a daughter through carelessness like you did to me.

I need to ask you a big favor father and not only of you but also of the whole family, the biggest and most important one I will do in my life.

If something happens to me... if I end up in big trouble or I no longer exist, any situation that prevents me from taking care of my beloved daughter.

Please watch over her.

Make sure she has the best future, a happy life with everything she needs, that she can grow up as a girl full of light, that she is always kind, wise and with a loving family.

If that's not something they can give you, find someone who can give it to you.

Take care of my treasure, my only happiness, my only family... I know I left a long time ago without saying anything and returned in a hurry to their lives.

Maybe one day they will call me selfish knowing the path I took to leave little Alice to them, the decision I decided to make was not easy, but I did it because I want the best for my little light.

We are all selfish and mean, I was all my life, since I knew that my happiness only depended on me, that I was alone in this world, that only oneself can save oneself.

I think I still am by thinking that I can force them to do something about my problem, I can't force them to take care of someone or take responsibility for a short period of time, turning their lives upside down.

But maybe... with all the love and affection that you could ever see felt for me, I can make you consider helping me and fulfilling my difficult request.

Father, brothers and Alfred... I never said it because of all the anger I felt, because of everything that happened in the mansion, which devastated my thoughts with a lot of anger, forgetting everything I had and made me have a comfortable and pampered life.

Thank you.

Well, he's the father and maybe a future yandere, it's a possibility.

after an exhaustive investigation into possible characters to occupy this role in the series.

although there may be other possibilities with other characters....

Like I tried with the penguin's son, if ___ had decided to hang out more with villains and they adopted her or became her godparents.

Tag list: @kore-of-the-underworld @vanessa-boo @jsprien213 @delias-stuff @vanilliona @bat1212 @yanrandom @Quiarst @palabra de niño salvaje @el termino @leo227 @sirenethblog @ masa para galletas @blueberry19000 @con seguridad

[meanbossart]

ASK COMPILATION #385032: Shape-shifting genitals, mouth-mashing skillsets, who taps out first in the bedroom and the 17 different types of meat this guy eats.

I TRIED TO MAKE THIS A BIG ONE. Thank you everybody for your patience!

The truth of the matter is that I need one dramatic light-source or I will perish. HOWEVER...

Yeah, they seem the type to leave it purposefully ajar for the thrill of it. As well as the excuse to bring hell down upon anyone caught trying to steal a peek.

YES, actually! I've had the concept for a comic or two that's precisely about interactions they've had while younger. Comics take a lot of work, and there's a LOT of things I want to do, but that is definitely in the plans.

Yes! Or rather, as a shapeshifter, I believe she doesn't bother with them 99% of the time, possibly never, even though she has the habitability to form them if she so wished. The Orin DU drow knew was always doll-like in appearance when nude, and he did not particularly mind it or fantasized about anything different.

I believe this is both a preference in Orin's part (and across many shapeshifters, if I recall correctly) as well as a strategic choice.

And thank you so much!

[MORE BELOW THE CUT]

I don't know, kissing isn't that hard LOL I think they're pretty even-leveled in technique but Astarion is the tonguier one.

ALL IN DUE TIME, MY FRIEND, ALL IN DUE TIME...

Maybe 😊 🤫though I'm not sure how useful his powers would be in that context.

That said, Indeed! The irony of this match isn't lost on anyone. I'm sure Astarion would have some thoughts about the convenience of it.

I know this is more of a jokey message, but I don't think Astarion would be cool with that sort of thing, and DU drow most definitely wouldn't ask 😂

Whatever works, as he would probably say!

Astarion got drunk through DU drow on occasion while he still fed on him, yes LOL I don't care if that makes sense or not, It's a hysterical concept and definitely factual in my canon. To be fair as well, DU drow is a huge man and has to drink a LOT to get properly wasted - so Astarion wouldn't have to consume a whole lot from him to get on a similar level!

Post a few particular post-campaign events, Astarion gets drunk through strangers' blood that were either piss-drunk already or have been fed alcohol forcibly by the pair.

He likes thick stews, braised pork, and meat-pies the most. Don't ask me when or why I've decided this but he likes octupi as a every-once-in-a-while treat - I think he mostly enjoys the experience of eating it more than the taste.

For drinks, he likes beer, red semi-dry wine, and mead the most. He also likes a GOOD whisky - none of the copper-coin garbage they serve at most Inns.

Hi! Incredible question. DU drow can go indefinitely but when he stops he knocks out in record speed. There usually comes a point where Astarion flops over and lets him do all the work.

You know how, shortly after you find out about it, if you tell Astarion that you're frightened of your origins you get that really heartfelt bit of dialogue about how yourself and him are so much alike, and how he feels similarly powerless before Cazador as you do toward your father? Well, I never got that, because DU drow was too busy squinting into the horizon and contemplating the logistics of his conception which prompts Astarion to, essentially, say something along the lines of "Okay, if all you want to do is discuss your dad's cum I'm out"

So, like that.

They didn't smash in the graveyard! I'm hoping to either write a short thing about it, draw something inspired by how the scene went down in my head, or, ideally, both!

That IS kind of a wild comparison but I'm guessing you know about my origins, LOL.

Not... Quite. I'm reluctant to say more because I would like for it to be a surprise that I bring you all through art (even if you can make a pretty accurate deduction based on what has been said so far) but suffice to say that this is the flipside to the Bhaalist DU drow AU.

I don't think I could find the time 😭😭😭 but that's a hysterical idea and I would gladly mash together a bunch of clips if someone else was willing to highlight them!

Hello and thank YOU for humoring me in my nerdy little forays!

I hadn't heard about Model/Actriz but I had a little sneak-peek and, indeed, this might just be right up my alley LOL

It's hard for me to remove these characters from their intended universe so I have a difficult time picturing what they would listen to if the options didn't all sound like string-y bardcore music. I'm sure there are more genres to speak of in DnD lore, I'm just ignorant of them!

That said I do have some thoughts about which of them even enjoy music at all.

REALLY enjoys music: DU drow, Jaheira, Misc, Karlach, Wyll.

Modestly enjoys music: Gale, Shadowheart, Minthara, Halsin.

Generally doesn't enjoy music: Astarion, Lae'zel.

No notes just canonical character information being shared

I forgot what this one was in reference to for a moment and I was so aghast.

I really, really hope you weren't hoping for me to give you work-out advice because both, if you were, you've come to the wrong man.

But if you're just wondering about lore here, I think it's a solid 50/50. I think he's predisposed to a really well-built physique because Daddy Bhaal said so AND he's incredibly active and incidentally does a lot of manual labor. If he's had a few too many sedentary days in a row (which is rare) he pretty much has to tire himself through at-home routines or he goes a little cuckoo-bananas as well.

And thank you for being interested in my little freak!

He's pretty thoroughly desensitized, and thinks far too little of Orcs and half-orcs to be intimidated by them, even when that lack of fear is downright stupid. He's not impervious to fear, however, despite how hard he tries to be - Myrkhul, Grym, the giant Steelwatch, the brain, and even Cazador AFTER he snatched Astarion away were all encounters that made his blood run cold to varying degrees. I think it takes an unfamiliar foe for his sweat to run a little cold.

(Ironically, Raphael had no such effect on him.)

[miss-dollette]

Person Of Interest - Chapter 1. Muse.

Warning: Stalking. Really fucked up opinions on the less fortunate. Remember, this is the salesman we’re talking about.

(A/N): I wrote this over the course of a few days. I haven’t written anything this long in some time, so let me know if I got anything wrong. Also, I’m not Korean and have never visited Korea, so I’m not familiar with Korean culture. Please be easy on me - I don’t even listen to K-Pop and this is my like, second Korean show I’ve watched 😭. Okay, it’s two in the morning and my eyes hurt. Enjoy :)

The little waif appeared at the train station again, as she did every day of the week except Sunday.

He knew that because he had developed a routine of his own-one where he ensured he’d catch a glimpse of her. She was a slight thing, all knobby knees and elbows, with a rounder face that still clung stubbornly to remnants of baby fat. It gave her an air of innocence that would likely never fade into maturity.

Twenty-two years old. A dropout from a prestigious university - why, he didn’t know. She lived with a roommate in a tacky apartment building and was unemployed. Instead, she earned her money playing her violin in the busier sections of the city.

A talented little thing. No matter the weather, her thin but strong fingers coaxed melodies from her instrument, drawing the attention of passersby. The locals knew her well, and they must have appreciated the way her music lured customers to their shops and stands.

The first time he saw her, she was on a concrete platform, playing one of his favorite songs. His hand had stung, his shoulder ached - a long day of recruiting Nothings - but the sound had stopped him in his tracks.

Passersby dropped won into the worn Breton cap she’d laid out in front of her, and each time, she flashed a brief, grateful smile before resuming her tune.

His breath hitched in his chest, his fingers slackening around the handle of his suitcase full of won and two dirty ddakji papers. Even dressed in an oversized coat with patched-up hemlines, she caught his attention in a way that left him stunned.

An elderly man shuffled past her, dropping a few won into her cap before bowing deeply. She paused just long enough to bow back, even lower than he had, before continuing to play.

As the sun sank lower in the sky, lingering spectators began to drift away, heading toward the station to catch their trains. Salarymen and women filed out of their offices, and nearby shops started to close for the night.

When the last stragglers were gone, she stepped down from the platform and retrieved her cap. One by one, she smoothed out the crumpled bills with delicate precision, as though each note were a treasure.

An elderly woman from a nearby food stall approached her, carrying a steaming skewer of dakkochi. Though the girl began counting her bills, ready to pay, the woman shook her head, pressing the food into her hands.

She hesitated, staring at the meat with wide, hungry eyes, before accepting it and bowing low in gratitude.

He watched as she took the first bite, her eyes fluttering shut as though she were savoring the warmth, the taste, the comfort of it. She chewed slowly, and though he couldn’t hear it, he could almost imagine the hum of satisfaction she must have let slip.

It was ridiculous. Fascination with someone so ordinary.

And yet, he couldn’t look away.

How could it be that this crumpled-up, discarded girl had managed to fascinate him so completely?

If he had seen her on any other day, he would have caught her alone, offered her a game of Ddakji, and slapped her cheeks until their softness gave way to mottled bruises. Those babyish cheeks of hers, stained with tears—he could picture it so vividly. Female recruits usually cried by the third slap, but they never stopped playing. The glimmer of hope, of winning back their dignity or even just a few won, kept them in the game.

They were all the same. Male or female. Persistent, pathetic pieces of garbage. That’s what they all had in common.

When she finished her food, she stuffed the crumpled won into a sash tied around her waist, her movements quick yet deliberate. Then she turned her attention to her violin, lifting it with a tenderness that bordered on reverence. She placed the chipped instrument into its worn case so gently that anyone watching might have thought she was laying an infant into its crib.

It was laughable, really.

And yet, he kept watching.

When she stood, she practically skipped toward the train station. Light, careless steps, as though the weight of the world hadn’t settled on her shoulders like it had on everyone else’s. He watched her descend the stairs, each movement unguarded, as though she had nothing to fear.

His fingers tightened around the handle of his suitcase, and his eyes flicked to his watch. The seconds ticked away steadily, a reminder that if he wanted to catch the last train home, he’d need to hurry.

But as he stood there, staring at the spot where she’d disappeared, he felt himself torn.

Head home... or follow her?

The decision hovered in the air, tantalizing and heavy, as the seconds marched on.

He realized that if he didn’t follow her, she’d haunt his thoughts all night. The sound of her tunes, the gleam in her eyes—it would all linger, nagging at him. And what if he never saw the little waif again?

The thought was unbearable.

He took a step toward the station, then another, and another, until he found himself at the platform, watching as she disappeared through the train’s doors.

“Pardon me,” he murmured, brushing past another passenger in his haste.

The man turned sharply, venom already rising to his face - until his gaze fell on him. The glare faltered, melting into something more subdued. Respectful.

It was remarkable, really, how quickly people changed their tune when they caught sight of his tailored coat and polished shoes. They didn’t need to know him, his past, or his purpose. The price tag of his appearance was enough to earn their deference.

How pitiful, he thought, as he adjusted his grip on his suitcase. Once, he’d been nothing - just like them. But now?

Now, he was above them all.

She sat in the distance, wedged between a mother with a toddler clinging to her thighs and a weary salaryman fighting to keep his eyes open. Her violin case rested on her lap, cradled against her chest as though it were something precious, something alive.

He watched her from the corner of his eye, careful not to let his gaze linger too long. If she caught him staring, she’d realize far too soon that she had an observer - and that wouldn’t do. Not that he had any plans of revealing himself.

Fortunately, he was practiced in the art of pursuit. Years of experience had honed his craft, though his targets were typically for a very different purpose.

The train jolted forward, and he swayed slightly, using the motion to adjust his stance, keeping her just within his peripheral vision. She was so unassuming, so small in this world of hurried professionals and exhausted parents. Yet, there was something magnetic about her.

Her oversized coat hung awkwardly off her frame, the patched hemlines almost brushing her knees. It was too large, almost comical, but she wore it without a hint of self-consciousness. Perhaps she didn’t care how it looked, or perhaps she was simply used to making do. The thought both irritated and fascinated him.

He shifted his grip on his suitcase, the leather pressing against his calluses. Would she even be worth it? She wasn’t like the others he had approached. There was a quiet resolve in her, something different. She didn’t wear her desperation as plainly as the others, yet he knew it was there - lurking beneath the surface.

Wasn’t it always?

His lips twitched into the faintest smirk. Everyone had their breaking point. The game just revealed it sooner.

She glanced up briefly, her eyes scanning the train, and his heart seized for a moment. Had she noticed him? No - her gaze swept right past him, uninterested and unseeing. He let out a slow, controlled breath, reminding himself that he was a master at this. Years of practice had taught him how to melt into the background, to become just another face in the crowd.

But watching her, he felt something unusual - a spark of impatience. Normally, he could bide his time, savoring the slow unraveling of his prey’s composure. But with her, the anticipation was different. Her every movement - so small, so deliberate - pulled at something in him, though he couldn’t quite name what.

The train rattled through another stop, and a few passengers shuffled off. She remained in her seat, her hands absently brushing over the scratched surface of her violin case. Did she know how fragile she looked in that moment? The way her fingers lingered on the case, as though drawing strength from it, made his chest tighten in a way that annoyed him.

Perhaps that was it - the illusion of fragility. People like her always looked so easy to break, so willing to bend under pressure. But they never went quietly. No, they always had a streak of stubbornness, a refusal to yield that made the process all the more satisfying.

He swallowed, his mind flickering between possibilities. If he approached her now, how would she react? Would she freeze, caught off guard by someone acknowledging her for any other reason besides her violin? Or would she look at him with suspicion, sensing something amiss?

The train slowed, and the voice over the intercom announced the next station. His pulse quickened. She adjusted her grip on her case, her body shifting as she got ready to stand.

He waited until the distance between them widened before stepping off the train. The crowd of passengers spilling onto the platform was his cover, their hurried steps and muted chatter blending him seamlessly into the flow of bodies. Not that she would suspect anyone was following her. Who would?

Once outside the station, she weaved her way past the gleaming high-rises and into narrower, dimly lit streets. The transition was stark - the polished facade of the city gave way to crumbling walls, cracked sidewalks, and flickering streetlights. It made sense for her to live in this part of town. He never imagined she could afford anything more secure.

She paused in front of a small brick building, its exterior worn and unremarkable, much like her. He hung back, watching as she disappeared through the front doors. His pulse steadied, and he exhaled slowly. Following her inside would be foolish - far too risky. A smaller building like this meant she likely knew her neighbors, and a stranger’s presence wouldn’t go unnoticed.

Still, his lips curved into a faint smile. The journey might have ended here, but now he knew where she lived. A detail worth savoring.

Just as he turned to retrace his steps to the station, a light flickered on in one of the windows. His head snapped up, and his gaze locked onto it. A shadow moved against the thin curtain, a familiar silhouette. Her slight frame was unmistakable, and so was that oversized Breton cap perched awkwardly on her head.

Yes, it was her.

For a moment, he stood frozen, watching her shadow shift. She set something down - likely the violin case she had cradled so protectively on the train. He could almost picture her now, brushing the dust off her coat, pulling her hair free from under the cap, perhaps exhaling with relief to finally be home.

His grip on his suitcase tightened.

“I should leave now,” he thought. Lingering too long would be reckless, but something about that glowing window and her faint outline held him captive. It was a glimpse into her world - simple, predictable, fragile. A world so easy to disrupt.

Finally, he turned away, but his steps were slow, reluctant. He had what he came for, but the thought of her shadow, the dim light framing her every movement, stayed with him.

Time to say Goodbye.

[trickbxbes]

𝐀𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐫: [𝗖𝗵𝗽 𝟭] 𝗛𝗲𝗿𝗼

Summary: Drowning in your father's debt, it didn't seem like there was a way out. Until a suited man offers you a lifesaver. But you soon realize it's nothing of the sort, but neither is your life on the outside. Stuck between two evils, which will you choose?

Warnings: Reader is an exotic dancer, violence, death, the usual Squid Game territory stuff, slowburn,

Word Count: 2,360

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

          You’re greeted with the distasteful scent of old rainwater and garbage as you enter an alleyway. You carefully pull your jacket closer to your body. Your nerves were on fire. That terrible anxiety that you couldn’t ignore, as this was your survival instinct. You gulp, clutching your purse tightly. 

“Ah, there she is!” 

A male enters the alley from behind you, making you turn and look. There was not one, but two men. The sound of pebbles being crushed under footsteps made you look to the other exit in the alleyway. Two more men approached, having you surrounded. You didn’t flee, recognizing them and knowing what they were here for. The first man gestures ahead at you. “Not polite to leave a girl waiting, we know.” 

You adjust your posture, feigning confidence. 

“I didn’t mind.”

You remain still as the four men surround you, waiting. The main man holds his hand out expectantly. “Now, you gonna make this easy on us? Hm?” 

Without another word, you take out a stack of cash from your bag and place it in his hands. The man scoffs, skimming through the thin paper to briefly count. He holds up the stack, cocking an eyebrow. 

“Where’s the rest?” 

That anxiety doubled in your gut, your skin crawling. With a dry mouth, you say, 

“T-that’s all I have right now.” 

The man sighs, handing the cash to his associate. He clicks his tongue and shakes his head. 

“This is even less than last time.” You’re quick to defend yourself.

 “I-It was a slow week at Jenny’s. But we’re hosting a big birthday party next week, that’ll certainly bring in some well paying customers.” 

You take a shaky step back and are met with a mucky cement wall. The men close in, like a pride of lions stalking their prey. Your eyes dart about, trying to calculate a way to get out of this. It didn’t look like these men were going to listen though. The head man tilts his head, taking out a switchblade. You whimper slightly in fear, your heart dropping at the sight of silver. Two men grab your arms, keeping you still. You’re barely able to attempt to jerk free before you feel the cold blade on your cheek. 

“This isn’t even your problem, you know. Your deadbeat dad should be paying up, not you.” 

At the mere mention of your father in that form, you’re filled with anger. Your eyebrows furrow, your face contorted in rage. What the hell did these loan sharks know about you and your father? But your nerves were too high for you to act tough. 

“Look, I-I even came all the way out here to meet you. Just give me—“

“Hey!”

A new voice enters the fray. All of you look over to see a young adult man. He was tall, and had medium length black hair that reached his lower neck. He looks in between you and the men, and started to jog over. “Get the hell away from her!”

 His shouting was bound to draw the attention of more people, the goons harassing you knew that. They look to the man with their own displeasure. “We’ll see you soon.” That’s all you’re ended with before they leave. Despite them being gone, you didn’t feel the relief you were owed. You knew this was only a temporary release. You needed money, fast. 

“Are you okay?” 

The mysterious man asks you kindly. You look up into his dark eyes and force a smile. 

“Yeah, yeah! Thanks for that, hero.” 

You reply sweetly. He seemed surprised by the title and rubs the back of his neck. “I-It’s what anybody decent would’ve done.” He deflects the subject back to something more urgent. “Who were those guys? Did you know them?” 

If you were to explain the complexities of the truth, you’d probably overshare the boy to death. You didn’t have time for that. So instead, you come up with a quick lie. 

“I-I dunno. I think they were trying to mug me or something. Assholes.” You cross your arms. Thankfully, the man seemed to believe your claim. 

“Well… hopefully they’re gone now. Oh-! D-Do you want me to walk you to wherever you’re going?” 

Ah, a gentleman. As you’re about to speak, you feel a raindrop touch your cheek. You make a small noise of surprise, wiping the droplet and casting your eyes to the sky. The clouds were thick with dark gray. You smile nervously at the man. 

“Ah, no no, no need. I don’t wanna bother. I’m just headed back to the subway station and that’s right around the corner.” 

He visibly loosens up at your words, perhaps finding relief that you would be out of harm’s way sooner rather than later. 

“Ah, okay, okay. Are you sure?” 

“Yeah, I’d better get going now. But, thanks again.” 

You and the man go your separate ways, heading in opposite directions. You weren’t lying about the distance to the station, it really wasn’t far at all. 

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

           Eventually, you’d find yourself sitting down at a bench down below. The subway track was empty, almost like the venue itself. There were maybe four or five people lurking about. But three were walking away, while two men were sitting on a bench on the other side of the tracks. 

But just as you were about to take a second to actually breathe, you’re greeted by someone stopping right in front of you. 

A tall man wearing a suit held a briefcase while staring down at you, an empty but somehow friendly smile on his face. 

“Hello, do you have a moment? I’d like to ask you something.” 

You recognized his mannerisms and general output as a salesman. Why he was in a dirty subway to advertise was beyond you. You give a halfway smile, about to have him move along. But your voice is caught in your throat when you spot people from the corner of your eye. 

The loan sharks from before. 

“Yep! Yep, what’s up?” You didn’t have the luxury to deny his invitation. 

The man seemingly smiled a little wider, just a smidge. He sets his briefcase beside you on the bench, just as the goons catch up. The leader smirks lightly in your direction, stopping with his men. 

“Right then, let’s go finish our conversation, hm?” 

Your jaw tightens, you weren’t able to hide behind someone this time. You had to face the music. What horrors awaited? Were they going to make you sign a contract to sell your kidneys? Your eyes? Your limbs? You didn’t know. You didn’t want to know. But just as you were to stand up, the Salesman turns and faces the men. 

“We’re in the middle of our own conversation. If you wouldn’t mind waiting, I’d like to speak with her first.” 

Your jaw drops. Were the Gods feeling extra merciful today? Whatever the case, you weren’t going to let it go to waste. You sit up and put your hands in your lap. You wait patiently and politely for the goons reply, knowing how pissed off they were. They glare slightly at the taller man, and go sit at a bench a little ways away silently. 

“Shit…” You sigh under your breath. When you lift your head, you see the man waiting for your attention, making you regain your composure. “Uh—uh… so, what’s up?”  

The man opens up his briefcase and, to your surprise, holds up two envelopes. One red one blue. Ddakji. 

“Would you like to play a game?” 

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

         You sat on the subway, thinking about the events that just occured. 

Slap after slap in the face, you kept going. It wasn’t even about the money anymore, it was pure determination. But you had actually managed to win a few rounds. The thrill of the possible win was greater than the risk of the slap. It was a high better than any drug you could imagine. So, when the male stopped and handed you a card, you were more than a little shocked. 

The next events pass by like a blur. The subway that would take you back to your city arriving. Somehow, the man seemingly knew this. 

You scrambling to get onto the tram before the goons from earlier could catch up. The salesman handing you your purse that you nearly forgot in the panic. You remember him giving you a faint wink as you get on the subway, clutching your purse tightly as you leave all the men behind. 

You look at the card he gave to you. It was so simple, but somehow eerie as all hell. You didn’t trust it as far as you could throw it. But the idea was intriguing to say the least. Playing simple games to make enough money to pay off all your debt? It sounded too good to be true. You knew better, it definitely was too good to be true. 

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

         Jenny’s. You didn’t know if you hated the scent of the club or not. It reminded you of all you had to endure just doing this job alone. Being an exotic dancer was no easy feat. An extremely straining job, both physically and mentally. But the money was more than you’d normally get at a minimum wage joint. That’s what kept you here in this hellhole. 

You finished up your time on the stage, now walking the floor with other women. You’ve got a knack for picking out customers who tip well. Everyone’s got a tell. Whether it’s their hair, their shoes or their demeanor, you could see it. You needed to find someone egotistical, someone you could milk out a good 500 won from at minimum.  

Then, you spot him. A man making his way to the VIP section of Jenny’s. His shoes were one of a kind, and they didn’t look bad either. His bright purple hair was a clear indicator for the demeanor you were looking for. An easy target. 

You sashay your way there, security letting you pass. Your heels clack with the staircase floors till you reach the top. The man was sitting back amongst a black cushion couch. He wasn’t alone, a few other men sitting around. Blinged out men, one might add. Now here’s where you might’ve struck jackpot. But, you’re no stranger to this, you needed to play it safe. You didn’t want to bite off more than you could chew. 

Stopping in front, you lean down, pushing your hands against your knees. You made sure to set all your attention onto the purple haired individual. He sits up a little, taking in your beauty. 

“Hola, señorita.” His language change catches you off guard. You give him an easy smile. 

“Designer.” You reach to touch the jacket he wore, but purposefully stop yourself. You leave a faint hint of desire to want more. He seemingly takes the bait, beckoning you closer. “You can touch it.” He smirks softly. It was almost too easy, he was too confident for his own good. “You wanna go somewhere? It must be hard being the most interesting person here.” Your hand gently brushes his hair, making the male lean into your touch with an inhale. 

But then, he grabs your hand. 

“No, beautiful.” He says in English, making you blink in confusion. After a few moments, you’re able to understand what he said. He continues, 

“I’m afraid I’m only here to look, no private dances. But I’m about to come to a huge influx of cash, gorgeous. And when I do, I’ll be sure to return to you, my lovely.” He finishes with another English phrase, giving you a thumb finger heart. 

You knew there was no point in trying to mooch off his ‘friends’, they’d know they were second choice sloppy seconds. This was a bust. So, you click your tongue and force a smile. 

“I look forward to it.” 

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

         When you finally made it home for the night, you’re careful to not make too much noise. The television was still on. It emanated the only light in the room. Your father was passed out on the couch, his snores being louder than the volume of the tv. Empty bottles of soju took the space of the once clean coffee table. 

Taking off your shoes, you set down your stuff. You walk to the dining table, where a yellow paper lies remained.

 “EVICTION NOTICE” 

It was hardly a comforting reminder. You had left it there to make sure you and your dad didn’t forget. Today, you haven’t made nearly enough to get the sharks to back off. You were screwed. You knew you were lucky they haven’t showed up to your house to kidnap you yet. 

Maybe some sort of miracle would happen and your dad would get his job back. Maybe you’d acquire some sort of cash that could solve all your problems. 

The thought leads you to shuffle through your purse, pulling out the card again. As you hold it, you limp to the kitchen and open the fridge. On the door was a photo held there by a cheap magnet. It was of you and your father when you were but a child. Both of you smiling brightly at a playground. 

Hissing softly, you hold your leg. You lift your foot and rotate your ankle. Your job was physically very taxing. 

You’re pleasantly greeted with an empty fridge. Today was your dad’s turn to get some food, but it seemed his priorities stopped him from doing so. You sigh, sort of expecting this, and close the fridge again. 

You flip the card over and read the number written out. Your eyes linger on the pages a moment, trying to see if this was really what you were going to do. But, did you even have a choice? 

Taking your phone out of your purse, you take a deep breath, and dial the number. There’s a few seconds of ringing before you’re told to state your name. With a heavy heart, and a shaky voice, you set your fate in stone. 

“(L,n) (Y,n).”

[bweeeb]

HATED

Theodore Nott x reader ( Whispered as last name )

Enemies to lovers

Notes: When I wrote this, I didn't realize how dirty it was, I apologize for the shitty writing.

Summary: When the new girl causes Slytherin to lose the House Cup, Theo becomes much more interested in getting her attention—even after acting like a jerk. But maybe with Voldemort's return, it might be too late to make something last.

Warnings: Smut, Theodore being an asshole like every man on earth, reader being a proud slut.🤘❤️‍🔥

Being competitive was always one of Theodore Nott's characteristics that almost no one knew about, and as one of the smartest students in Slytherin, Theodore never had trouble keeping his competitiveness to himself. By the end of the third year, the vast majority of Slytherin's points were consistently earned by Theodore, leading Slytherin to take the top spot in the House Cup every year, until Y/n Whispered transferred from Ilvermorny at the beginning of the fourth year and secured the House Cup for Hufflepuff. Theodore couldn't help but feel intense hatred spread through him from head to toe upon seeing that the person who had taken his place was a new, blonde, five-foot-three Hufflepuff girl, which irritated him even more because the attraction he felt towards her was stronger than the instant hatred that surged in his chest. The first time he saw her celebrating with her peers at the end of the year, Theodore decided he would make Y/n's life much more complicated from the moment she looked at him from across the Great Hall, at the Slytherin table, and sent a gentle smile his way. Theodore didn't understand the reason behind her beautiful smile but interpreted it as mockery; he preferred to imagine that Y/n was mocking him rather than smiling amiably due to the stories she had heard about him, ultimately ending up liking a Muggle-born Hufflepuff.

In the fifth year, Y/n endured a series of provocations from Theodore until she reacted, turning it into a personal game that went beyond the House Cup. In the fifth year, Slytherin once again won the House Cup, and Theodore made sure to send a card to her room with the message 'What can you do if Muggle-borns only get lucky once in a lifetime, dolcezza,' and on the back of the card, probably the phrase that made Y/n cry with anger for the rest of the night, 'Maybe you should go cry to your parents, little baby.' The next day, Y/n put on her tough mask and threw the paper into Nott's plate at breakfast, saying loudly and clearly, 'My parents are dead, so if you tried to offend me, you failed with both the Muggle-born insult and the part about parents, Stupid Nott.' From that day on, Y/n began to hate Theo for being so stupid, and Theo began to observe Y/n more delicately, and partially the provocations decreased. However, with the decrease in provocations, Y/n's approval and visibility over him also decreased. Nott had to find another way to get her attention, even if it meant returning to taunting.

— You smell that? Oh wait, it's just Y/n walking into the hall.

Y/n heard Nott say loudly as she passed by him during breakfast.

— Must be coming from that mouth of yours that only spews garbage, Theodore.

The girl retorted as she walked past him without even looking at him and sat down at her table nearby.

— You should watch what you say to him, Y/n.

Y/n's friend, Violet, said, glancing quickly at the Slytherin table.

— It's just Nott, Vic. If he wants to hate me, I'll hate him back.

The girl shrugged, drawing Penny's gaze from across the table.

— No, Y/n. I heard they know who's back.

— What?

Y/n's eyes widened slightly, her body trembling. Her parents died in a suspicious and brutal manner while on a trip to the Ministry of Magic in London through dark magic, her uncles, born with pure blood, confirmed that probably some attacks on half-blood wizards are happening all of a result of among them

A week passed, and the news of Voldemort's return turned out to be true, making the seventh year more unsettling than ever. Gradually, half-blood students began disappearing, the common room grew emptier, classrooms quieter and less lively. Y/n had lost all focus on her studies. Dark days were casting a shadow over the wizarding world, and while all her classmates fled to safety with their families, she remained at Hogwarts, surrounded mostly by Slytherins who seemed unaffected.

On a rainy night, Y/n lingered longer than usual in the library, finishing her assignments. As she hurried back to her dorm, she noticed Draco Malfoy, Mattheo Riddle, and Theodore Nott standing casually against a wall, engaged in conversation. She lowered her head, bit her lip, and rolled her eyes, her heart racing. "Stupid, stop being silly, Y/n," she scolded herself silently, trying to slip by unnoticed. But Theodore, leaning against the wall and smoking a cigarette, chuckled and began to follow her. — No house to go back to, Y/n? Theodore's voice was mocking, prompting laughter from the three Slytherins echoing down the corridor. Theo couldn't help but wish Y/n would turn around, march over with that cute angry expression he secretly admired, and look him in the eye. — Your family didn't want you because you're a Mudblood?He taunted again, not bothering to face her.

— Fuck you, Theodore. Y/n muttered, stung by his words for the first time because deep down, she knew there was truth in them. Her pureblood uncles' allegiance to Voldemort left her with no safe haven at Hogwarts, just the hope of avoiding a grim fate. Without looking back, Whispered strode on, leaving Theodore to stew in his irritation at her avoidance. It had been over a month since she last met his gaze, and he hated how much he missed their confrontations.

— What did you say?

— What's this bablood still doing here?

Y/n heard Draco ask, his laughter joining Matteo's teasing remark: — Maybe the little lioness needs a cigarette to calm down. Meanwhile, she still heard Theodore's footsteps behind her.

— Hey, I'm talking to you, Mudblood. Theodore quickened his pace, grabbing her wrist, the first time their skin touched and it felt like she was burning against his.

— I said, FUCK YOU, NOTT, and don't fucking touch me. Y/n spun around so forcefully that her ponytail whipped across his face. In that instant, regret surged through her chest. Their eyes locked, and for a fleeting moment, she glimpsed a different side of him. — I'm sorry.

Her voice was barely a whisper as Y/n stumbled backwards, fleeing from the sight of the Slytherins as swiftly as the wind. She was scared, and Theodore saw it in her eyes, as clear as day. What Y/n didn't realize was that he was scared too.

In the days that passed, the school's security changed, which meant there was no security at all, not for her. This meant she felt safer inside her room than walking the corridors. Dumbledore was dead, teachers were as concerned as the remaining students at the school, and all this meant Y/n no longer appreciated meals, only eating when necessary. Theodore had noticed this minimal frequency, and the girl's tired appearance, who seemed not to sleep, began to worry him. He yelled at himself that he shouldn't be concerned.

One night, the Hufflepuff common room was completely deserted, doors wide open, and as Y/n repeated in her letters to her friends far away, there was no security at all. A strange noise from the other side of Whispered's room door made her rise from the bed where she was sitting and grip her wand tightly. When she was sure no one was there, she opened the door and looked at the plate of food on the floor, grabbed it, and placed it on her desk. She picked up the card beside it and read, 'I noticed you haven't been eating properly. It's important that you eat, bella.' Y/n stared at the plate for a few long minutes, afraid it might be poisoned, but when her stomach rumbled at the smell emanating from the food, her resistance was broken, and she quickly devoured the plate.

Over the next two weeks, similar things happened with several meals feeding Y/n when she didn't show up in the main hall. Over thirty cards accumulated in her drawer, and Y/n couldn't decipher all the Italian nicknames at the end of the notes, wondering who could be doing this.

Late one night, three days since Y/n had eaten anything, a knock on her door echoed, and without fear, Y/n opened it quickly, eager to see who was entering the Hufflepuff common room at such an hour. To her surprise, she saw Theodore Nott's figure quickly disappearing down the corridor.

— Hey! She shouted, running after him and grabbing his wrist just as he had done to her on several previous occasions. Her gaze fell upon him, looking unsure there.

— What are you doing? Y/n asked suspiciously.

— I can't be seen here — he murmured. Y/n stood still briefly until Nott pushed her back into the room.

— So what are you doing here? she asked again.

— You haven't been eating...

Theo said, pointing to the untouched food.

— That's not true. It was, but she didn't want to admit it to him.

— I know it is, dolcezza. Theo said, almost desperate, leaving Y/n confused.

— What are you still doing here, Y/n? Theodore asked, concerned, moving closer to Y/n, who for the first time didn't pull away from him in fear.

— I should be asking you what you were doing in my room. She said, ignoring his question. Theodore moved closer again, almost touching their noses.

— I'm serious, Y/n.

— I have nowhere else to go, Theodore. You were right, my family doesn't want me, so I'll stay. Is that okay with you? Y/n turned away from his gaze, walking away. — Thanks for the food, but you can go now.

— You have to leave. He whispered. Y/n shook her head, briefly glancing towards him without really meeting his eyes.

— Why are you worried?

— Because... because, I... He stuttered, unsure of what to say. — I... I want you to be okay, Y/n.

— Why? I'm a badblood,' as you all say, why does it matter? You never liked me, Theodore, I don't understand.

— Don't call yourself that way.

— Theodore.

The girl moaned and Theodore sighed worried.

— If they find you, they'll kill you. I...I...

— Theodore, you're not answering what I'm asking. Why are you worried?

— I don't know, Y/n. — Theo sat on the bed with his hands on his head and his arms on his knees, his eyes closed, and Y/n stood still in front of him. — I shouldn't, but I care about you.

— That doesn't make sense, you hate me, Theodore...

— No! I don't hate you. Theodore stood up quickly and approached her, almost touching their noses.

— But you always...

— I've always been an idiot because I wanted to get your attention. I wanted you to look at me. Theo said, closing his eyes and sighing in frustration.

— That makes no sense, Nott.

— No! It doesn't, but I don't know a better way to do it...

— Maybe act like a normal person?

— My mother would hate me for what I did to you and say I'm foolish. Theo muttered more to himself and ran his hands through his now longer hair.

— I think I've loved you since the first day you smiled at me, Bella. You have this thing, that pulls me to you. Theo whispered, and Y/n widened her eyes, expecting to find a prank.

— But you ran away...that's nonsense, how? Me and you, Theodore? What the hell are you talking about, my God. She laughed humorlessly and rushed away from the Italian's body, agitated. — Where's Matheo and Malfoy? Okay, YOU CAN COME IN NOW! I UNDERSTAND. She shouted at the door, desperate, and Theodore pulled her by the shoulders to look at him again.

— It's not a prank, Whispered. There's no one there, they know that, and it was them who told me to talk to you.

— You were about to run when I saw you, Theodore. She repeated. — I can't believe you could ever love a 'mudblood. She made air quotes with her fingers, and Theodore closed his eyes, groaning. — H-h-how could y-you love me, Theodore? She stuttered, feeling vulnerable, and suddenly Theodore's lips pressed against hers, the girl from her first day at Hogwarts was enchanted by Theo's beauty and intelligence, but when she realized he would never feel the same besides the eternal teasing resolved to slap her in chest of, now, doesn't

— Believe me, bella. Y/n nodded, getting lost in those deep blue eyes, and leaned in to kiss him once again, more harder. Their size difference didn't help at all, so Theo grabbed the girl's waist and set her on the desk in a way that she opened her legs to accommodate his body between them.

— The world is going to end, isn't it? — Y/n asked, placing kisses on Theodore's neck and fighting for the dominance he had previously taken, starting to distribute kisses along her neck.

— If no one stop this crazy wizard, yes, my princess. He said, giving wet kisses on Y/n's skin, making her moan and tilt her hips closer to his, seeking some friction against his pants.

— Fuck — she moaned once more, and Theodore found her lips again. His hand on her waist pulled her body closer to his, and Theodore groaned as he rubbed against the wet fabric of Y/n's panties with his hard erection.

— Shit, Y/n, you're so wet — He groaned this time, and Y/n nodded, clinging to him.

— Do you want to fuck me? Please do it, Teddy. She whimpered into Theodore's neck, who opened his mouth in ecstasy at the girl's words begging for him.

— Mia bellissima principessa, ti scoperò così bene. The Italian in Theo's voice made Y/n spread her legs wider in anticipation, seeking some friction against her clitoris.

— Please. — With that, Theo removed the girl's green lace panties, his provocative gaze falling on her form.

— Green panties? I think someone was longing for me. He said, biting the girl's shoulder, making her laugh.

— What can I do if... — Before she could finish her sentence, Theodore inserted two fingers inside her.

— So wet for me. — He groaned as he moved his fingers against her. — Such a good girl.

He repeated as she reached her peak, knowing she was close because he felt her tighten around his fingers. Just before she came, Theodore pulled his fingers out, provoking a frustrated moan from her, and removed his pants, revealing his erect cock with a red tip. Y/n's eyes shone in anticipation, and without him noticing, she got on her knees, grabbing his cock and pumping it before taking it into her mouth like a lollipop. After a few sucks, he pulled her back up, kissing her lips and smiling at her shiny lips. — I want to be inside you, principessa.

— Do it. — With that, Theodore spread her legs on the desk and plunged his cock into her.

— Damn, so tight. He moaned together with her as she smiled. Theo began to move at a fast pace, but not fast enough, making Y/n move her hips forward, trying to go faster. — So impatient. He said, then started to fuck her at a much quicker pace.

— Such a tight pussy for me. Theo moaned into her ear as the wet sounds filled the room.

— Fuck, Teddy, yes, uh-huh, fuck me like that. — She moaned loudly, and Theodore smiled with his neck buried in her neck, feeling her walls tighten around him.

— Are you going to cum for me, princess? Nott asked, and Y/n grunted, nodding. — Cum for me, baby. Cum on my cock, I know you want to.

As he said those words, Y/n reached her climax, moaning loudly and panting, smiling, still feeling Theodore's release above her as he continued to fuck her through her orgasm. Y/n leaned into his ear and did what he did to her.

— Cum inside me, Teddy. — She moaned, and Theodore opened his mouth, obsessed with this girl. — Cum inside my pussy. Please. Put your babies inside me. She said, and with that, Theodore pushed in several times with erratic but deep thrusts, spilling all his cum inside the girl who was now drenched.

— Why did i never admit what i want, fuck Y/n. Theo groaned and hugged Y/n's tired body, pulling her close.

— You're an idiot.

— Totally, come on, let's clean you up.

As days went by, Y/n and Theo's secret rendezvous became more frequent: stolen kisses, clandestine meetings in their room unnoticed by Professor Snape. Y/n brought calm to Theo, and he brought solace to her. Until today.

A chilling laugh echoed through the Slytherin common room, and Blaise burst in, his face grave.

— They're here... Death Eaters have arrived at Hogwarts, and that spells trouble for Y/n.

—They're looking for her, Theo. Blaise added, and Theodore pushed the girl behind him protectively. — You need to hide, Y/n.

— WHO'S GOING TO CATCH THAT LITTLE RAT WHO WAS RUNNING AROUND? Bellatrix's voice boomed from the stairs, and Blaise shook his head before departing.

— I'll try to stall them. Figure out your next move, Theodore. With that, he left the room.

— Theo... Y/n called to him, but his focus was on strategizing how to save her.

— Theodore Nott. They'll kill you if they find out I'm here. Y/n placed her hands on his shoulders as he hyperventilated.

— They'll kill you, Y/n.

— They know I'm here, Theo. They want me because of my family's history.

— I can't let them take you. Theo shook his head, pulling the blonde into a tight embrace.

— It's going to be okay. She murmured, looking into his eyes.

— Apparate with me to my room and take me as if you found me. It'll be suspicious if they find you up here. She said resolutely until Theo looked at her face, realizing too late how much he loved her, and apparated to the ruined Hufflepuff common room.

They walked to the dungeons, and before proceeding, Theo turned to her, kissing her, resting his forehead against hers, and sighed.

— I'm sorry for being foolish for so long.

— I love you, Theodore Nott. I spent six weeks with you and it was enough to know that you have a much bigger heart than everyone said, And I know I was right when I fell in love with you since the day I first saw you at fourteen years old. It's going to be okay.

Those were her last words before being handed over to the Death Eaters.

-------------

Requests are open💞

[magiturge]

okay.. go my sheriff/hank ( individual and pairing ) headcanons / thoughts this is going to be really long, careful when you open it.

each dash is its own thing. for hank ( he / they / it / she is reserved. ) :

- hank is G01 / generation 1 grunt, but a particularly strange one in the sense that they are not a grunt. hank is a script. i headcanon hank as being the cannoneer / cannoneer script in the original marshmallow madness and how they are shown in the magiturge arena mode ending. i am on purpose ignoring that he was mentioned to be a G02 by swain.. hank is a script and as such behaves differently than everybody else because they were never intended to be a person or an entity. hank as the cannoneer script was intended to just be that, a placeholder with a face in the very early stages of nevada's creation and the nowhere. i started to lean into this headcanon a lot more when i saw a clip of krinkels answering a question regarding why the maker scribbles out hank in the cave drawings, with him saying "because he's a strange one. he's a very strange one. not really a.. not really a one with the identity as the maker understands it." ..i just think it'd be funny if hank was never meant to have an identity in the first place and was a function first before being a person. it's why hank is so down the straight and narrow about getting the job done, you gave him something to do and he will do it. i like to describe hank as being an extension of the machine itself as a script.

- hank's height, width and depth changes subtly to drastically with each time he dies and comes back. i like to keep his base height at 6'2" but if you were to linger around them for long enough, you might notice every so often that he seems a bit shorter than usual or a bit taller, or he has a bit more or less muscle somewhere. it's just a result of supply of material to sew him back together.

- hank harbors no sense of physical attraction to anybody in the sense of finding anyone 'hot', 'cute', 'pretty', 'sexy', etc. they see absolutely nobody as attractive in that sense and the most you will ever see in terms of complimenting appearances is with how much 'cool factor' there is to something.

- hank sees red. for them there is not really a black and white, a good vs evil, a grey area. everything is red in that everything and anyone can be a tool. it's not really a 'sees red and gets angry / violent' thing. everybody looks the same to it on a moral / alliance / loyalty point. it has no issue turning on you if you get in the way or alligning with you if you can work to the same goal it has.

- for awhile, hank behaved very npc like or average grunt like before the whole punching the boombox guy. a whole lot of no particularly violent activity until that incident and it being like the switch flip of 'oh wait. i dont really know why but i think ive done this kinda killing people thing before ( marshmallow madness ) but im really really enjoying it,' like it might be a natural thing hank knows to do. - almost all of hank's outfit is a diy project it works on when it is bored, parts are stolen during missions ( homes / clothing stores ) or straight from the garbage. in a sense that's how hank is gradually building an identity for themself.

∙ hank has no issue with dying itself, but it's a matter of what circumstance and how they die that will determine if that irritates it enough to come back. ( i.e some stupid rug pulling bullshit or getting a kill stolen by dying to something stupid. )

- much of hank's skin is discolored or outright not the same shade or tone as their original skin since they're a hankenstein of various people's body's now ( haha ). they're also missing some certain parts that don't particularly bother them. its more like accessory and so long as they have the necessary parts that won't cause them complications, it frankly doesn't give a shit if something is gone.

for sheriff ( he ) : - go my transgender bear. - sheriff self medicated with alcoholic and as a result, over the years became a functioning alcoholic. this is entirely based on the line of 'pass the whiskey' he has and also the whole.. debacle he's been put in. he smells always vaguely of whiskey as a result of this. he feels a bit braver drunk but y'know.. reality backhands him in the face again and he focuses.

- sheriff and jeb are not friends. at best they are aquaintances, allies by circumstance not by goal. sheriff is afraid of jeb and worries about pissing him off as it might mean he loses an ally and potentially gains an enemy if he doesn't comply with his orders ( i.e assisting jeb in plans like lending his men to deal with hank ). at this point in time, jeb seems wildly unstable and too zeroed in on his savior bullshit for sheriff to feel comfortable speaking up at all about not wanting to deal with this stuff anymore. sheriff was a normal guy first that had no intention of getting involved with this stuff in the first place until jeb pulled him into it with fear as a motivation. jeb isn't a friend, just a 'friendly-face'. - sheriff has gotten better at hiding his fear / non-fighter nature at least with the way he talks. the fear and the desire to live is always there but the way he presents himself feeds into how he is perceived. at the end of everything, sheriff is always running away from the site of conflict if he's in an unsafe spot or at a disadvantage. covering up his fear makes him appear very cocky and arrogant - sheriff's hair is long as well as his beard, it is like a mane. it's his pride and he tries his best to keep it well maintained but he's.. too stressed to keep it up all the time. there are some curly and wiggly looking hairs ( i don't know the right term for it ) sticking out, and some parts tangled and thick. he feels weird if he were to ask anyone of his men to brush it out. - sheriff is a lot better at fighting and defending himself at this current point in time ( mpn2 and ahead ) but he is held back by the fact he is worried about dying or getting injured in general. he's afraid of taking a risk and would much rather use traps and a whole lot of walls in the way. - sheriff likes to hum, whistle and sing quietly to soothe his nerves. unfortunately, given his desire to uphold a strong image, he overthinks that being heard humming or singing, even quietly, around any of the MERC units will have him perceived as too soft or an oddity. for this reason, he is usually found whistling little bits when he's actually roaming the MERC buildings and his humming and quiet singing is for when he's patrolling the industrial sector walls on his own. - he carries a level of care for the MERC under his leadership but has a confused relationship with his individuality and being a part of a group. he was a guy first and foremost and because of the responsibility that was put onto him by jeb to protect these people he feels an obligation to forego his feelings and emotional needs. as a result he doesn't really.. interact with them on a super friendly level as much as he would say, a stranger with a friendly chat. he sees them as just people to be protected, a group and not individuals. he can separate himself from them but he also cant. - the nutrient slop in a can he's been eating for so many years has dulled his sense of taste a bit. if you gave him something that tasted real, even as greasy as a goddamn burger his face would light up. hot food does things to your mind and you dont realize it until you've had it again. - sheriff and the industrial sector represent each other. with large walls and many defenses to protect himself but with unfortunate cracks and weak points created over time. there can be so many barriers but many pathways, many vents for someone to crawl through and find the weak point.

ok. go my old man yaori.

their entire relationship is a push and pull. - their relationship (?) is a secret for as much as they are capable of keeping it a secret. sheriff desperately wants to keep it a secret because he fears that his men ( MERC ) finding out could potentially get him exiled or worse killed for being a 'traitor'. he also doesn't want to lose that sense of safety and togetherness, a stable foundation for him to stand and walk on. it's why he kicks himself in the head about the whole thing because he knows he shouldn't be getting involved like this. - as i mentioned before, hank feels no physical attraction to anybody and that applies to sheriff as well. it feels nothing in terms of 'wow he's cute' or 'he's hot'. the times that it can be mistaken that hank finds something about sheriff that is cute in terms of physical appearance is for different reasons. for example.. sheriff blushing and hank responding positively to that is not because hank finds that image to be cute but because he understands that image to be a positive thing. if : sheriff is blushing, then : i did something good, since i understand blushing as something that happens when someone is flattered. it elicits a positive reaction from hank because he understands it as something good and beneficial, rather than it being found personally cute or pretty. - hank thinks that sheriff did have a sort of glow up and that he looks 'cooler' now ( i.e you don't look like a wimp anymore ) however he thinks that the absolute layering of clothes, body armor and ammo looks tacky as hell. he gets why sheriff is wearing all that but it could have better days. they do find the leather chaps sheriff wears to be the one thing that kind of look cool, so it has taken the liberty of messing with them a bit, with permission, to make them look a bit cooler. it likes leather. on the topic of what sheriff wears, hank also doesn't like what he's wearing because it makes sheriff obnoxiously annoying to fight in close combat. it'll swing at sheriff and feel the padding and get a bit irritated because he really is just layered in protection, no satisfaction that it normally gets from feeling the injury caused in a fight. ..hank knows that it'd be better to leave not too many injuries, but that doesn't stop it from being irritated when they trade punches and it can feel a bruise on the highway while sheriff likely hasn't gotten something so serious. it's the kind of bullshit it doesn't like. hank wears body armor and padding too but not nearly as much. - they're both at around level terms of fighting capability, it is their personalities and style that make the difference. hank does not like sheriff's style of fighting in the presence of other people watching whatsoever as he thinks it's cowardly and unengaging. he's always at a distance, rapid fire, itchy finger. it's like dealing with a turret with self awareness and a mouth to run insults at you. the bullshit bullshiiiit he doesnt like. it's why hank prefers the little spats they get in. - hank's biggest upside in their situationship is how direct and to the point they are, it really hates the dancing around the topic sheriff does. if sheriff is being particularly dodgy about something or acting differently or avoidant, hank asks directly what is going on. it figured out relatively fast that sheriff's cowardly avoidant nature applies to just about anything and it has to adapt to that. sheriff's biggest downside is his reluctance to vocalize his needs as he doesn't entirely perceive hank as a person yet, still seeing him partially as the man in the posters, meaning he doesn't believe hank is capable of accommodating, being affectionate, or being considerate of his needs.

- sheriff hates vocalizing or articulating anything that seems like proof to the world or himself of his affections towards hank. something simple as wanting to have an embrace, he does not want to say it. it's acknowledgement of his affections, and he doesn't want to acknowledge it. he would rather outright go for the hug or for hank to initiate it first. on the same note, neither of them say i love you to each other. hank doesn't particularly care.. it just sees it as another expression of affection and it doesn't find words to be as fun as actions. sheriff doesn't say it for the reasons above and it feels way too intimate for him anyway. it's like saying 'yes, hank j wimbleton most wanted person in nevada who has killed many many and killed me once as well, i lovey wovey you'. he feels stupid saying it. it's 3 words but he hears a lot more. - sheriff still maintains a grudge for having been killed by hank many years ago, it's sort of shallow now though. he already got even with hank at the start of this snowballing situation, as they had a spat and he shot them dead. - hank is the grounded one in the situationship, more mentally stable and.. decisively stable than sheriff. he often has to be very blunt so sheriff stops rocking around, thinking too hard about something. - they don't talk to each other that often but on the chances they do, they do have some.. detailed conversations on things. it can range from something mundane as guns, what attachments they like on theirs to .. more delicate topics.

- hank often returns to sq hq smelling faintly of whiskey and sheriff often returns to MERC warehouses smelling vaguely of rotting bodies and blood. they both have smelled each other and they both think they both smell like shit. when possible, sheriff will continuously nudge that hank go and bathe, though that means sheriff has to as well. - hank thinks sheriff is a bit.. like crazy? or at least not making the smartest decisions sometimes. he wonders why sheriff maintains really long hair even though he works around machinery a lot. hank thinks that he's beign a bit ridiculous for being such a worry wart and not doing anything about the glaring issue in his wardrobe. it has vocalized this issue and are usually met with sheriff giving him a bit of a dirty look. at the least, hank does like to touch his hair. sheriff doesn't particularly care that much about hank touching his hair, just that he doesn't cut it. it likes to feel the texture and pick out tangles, it gives hank something to do in a mundane slow time. - sheriff has one of hank's black bandanas. it let him keep it when sheriff as gotten a bit of a nasty slash during a spat they had together, hank had tied it around the wound and he let sheriff keep it. sheriff now uses it as part of his outfit from time to time. it alternates usually from 3 places : a hair tie for a low ponytail, tied around his arm, or most unseen, in his right back pants pocket. aaha. hheh. heh. ok i'm tired, there's more but big man wants to eat his damn ass food.. idk uh, my writing somewhat properly is escaping me

[lucysarah-c]

Following your answer on homosexuality in AoT, how would sexism in AoT be handled on both sides of the spectrum, female and male, on Paradis and in Marley?

Hi, dear! How are you?

Ah, that's such a good question. You know, I did a post about it a LONG time ago, but it’s a topic I touch on a lot in my fics and here from time to time.

I'll set the context of my reply with three ideas. First, sexism or misogyny ALWAYS exists. It exists in our society like oxygen does. In many countries, it’s not the same sexism as in the 1800s, but it still exists. Second, the Scouts PER SE are the "wokes" of their time; they don't have the same views, lives, and beliefs as regular people inside the walls. So I always think that the Scouts are a bit of an "exception" from the rest of Paradis.

Third, and I state this because my blog is Levi-centered, Levi is ALREADY a person, and in particular, a man, with a very different and unique upbringing. I DO believe that Levi has a more "modern" or "woke" view on "women," "women's rights," and "house chores" than the rest of the men. I'll simply say this: a man who saw his mother being treated like garbage because she worked as a prostitute, a man who had to raise himself, and a man who RAISED a girl out of pure heart. I hardly think he judges women on how they dress, who they sleep with, or thinks that "a man shouldn't cook or clean/take care of the kids." So Levi is kind of an exception for me. This doesn't mean he doesn't have internalized misogyny or "micro-sexism" (which I'll talk about later).

Overall, despite both societies allowing "women" in the military, I don't think their views on women or men's roles are much different. I believe there are a few clear examples of this in the manga. If my memory serves me correctly (and take this with a grain of salt because I know that Isayama gave multiple interviews, and a lot of them were edited), he said on one occasion that the Scouts were different because usually, everybody helps with all the chores, like cooking, cleaning, etc., because they work more united and as a family than the rest of the military divisions. Second, he said in one interview right after the manga ended that when he draws "military boards or higher ranks," he always keeps in mind not to add women because they aren't allowed.

Other scenes that quickly come to mind that make me think that Paradis (and I'll speak mostly of Paradis because we don't see much of Marley as a society) is a very sexist society with traditional views:

Most of the time, when we are shown military members from the Garrison OR the MPs, they are mostly men.

Which women are shown that are "recalled" from the Garrison? Riko and Anka… What role does Anka have? Being a secretary for Pixis, more or less, a very stereotypical role for a woman.

A very memorable woman from the MPs is Hitch, and there's a scene where it's clearly said that "there's only one way a woman like Hitch can get into the MPs," basically stating that she made sexual favors to get into that position.

Not a single scene from the military board or higher-up positions shows a single woman.

All the mothers of the characters shown in the story are "housewives" or "stay-at-home moms," which is absolutely fine if a woman decides to dedicate her time to her family as long as it’s a decision she made and not because she didn’t have "other options." Even Eren's mother, Carla, is shown to work as a waitress before she became a mother and a housewife.

All this makes me conclude that probably women inside the military never reach far, either because they aren't allowed (men are preferred over them, offered better positions, promoted first) or because once they get married, they are expected to become stay-at-home wives. I can clearly imagine people thinking that if you get promoted as a woman, it's because you're sleeping with your boss, or if you haven't gotten married and had kids at a certain age, "you're wasting your time" or "a woman's role is to be a mom; they only feel fulfilled like that."

This creates a power dynamic: women are expected to be wives; therefore, men are expected to be the main providers. And this is something I can see men, particularly Levi, being affected by. In my fic, I wrote once that Levi gets very offended when the reader invites or pays for him because she comes from a wealthy family. For Levi, as internalized misogyny, HIS role as a man is to provide. What kind of man is he if he's not paying? Especially for the Scouts' men, it's said that the Scouts have the lowest salaries in the military. If they can't provide, their chances of getting married are probably low. Even today, a lot of men get sensitive or offended if their wives make more money than them. Or men get irrationally jealous and butthurt if their women are more successful than them.

Another way men might get the sour end is in terms of emotional availability. While women's harsh reality is known, men's struggles often aren't. For example (one from Marley), Reiner's mother suffers a lot of social prejudice because she had a kid out of wedlock, and her only "salvation" is that Reiner becomes a warrior. Even today, men struggle with being emotionally available and having more feelings than just "lust and anger." I can totally see men all over the AoT world having to be these "very tough" guys who are only allowed to be "human" when they are alone with "their girl/wife." This happened a lot after WWI; men were sent back home with horrible memories of war and society expected them to just "toughen up and be men." Go, work, and provide for your family; and if you're suffering from everything you lived, then learn to be a man.

It's like I can literally imagine Erwin perhaps complaining that he's having a hard time, and Zackly or any other dude would be like, "You know what you need? A wife; she will take care of the rest."

"I don't have time to dedicate."

"Doesn't matter, a good wife always understands."

"… my salary isn't that good."

"Oh well, you know it's never too late for you to change divisions and settle down." pat on the back lmao end of the advice, and Erwin has the same emotional stress as before.

Overall, I think their views are probably as traditional as they were only a couple of years ago. This is completely ignorable for the sake of fanfiction and having fun; not every piece you write has to send a message or be political. But if you ask me how I think canon AoT characters are, I believe a good part of them, if not most, would be very traditional.

Hope this helps! I tried to cover everything I could remember while being as concise as possible. Thank you so much for your question!

Lots of love!

[whysoblue2]

I DON'T KNOW WHO TRAVIS IS BUT IMMA BEAT HIS ASS, LEAVE MY MAN ALONE

First, I love this GIF and I think it's perfect. Second: Who is Travis? I decided to finally give him a face even if it's a quick drawing, cause he doesn't deserve a cool complete one. He is garbage. Name: Travis Age: 30ish Origin: Anura Past: Unknown

Travis is a Nice Guy™ ... But unfortunately, Kallamar had no fucking clue about that until it was too late. In the fic, Kallamar had the absolutely horrible idea to have half an hour (literally, not even a lunch break worth) with this guy being obvious and upfront it was a one-time thing. He did NOT get the message. He stalks Kall, and writes to him every other day signing himself as "your favourite Teddybear", so much that his letters remain unopened cause fuck that, Kall got more important things to do. But the situation is festering cause Kall (not used to people not doing what he says as a mortal) just dismissed the whole thing and shrugged it off. Now Travis allegedly got as bold as stealing Kall's favourite things when he was unaware. Where will it end? Ofc you probably wonder: how did one like Kall have a lunch break with THIS guy? Well first of all.. Pectorals. I mean. Then, Kallamar played Baldur's Gate 3 and instead of finding the Halsin experience he hoped for, he ended up with Stalky Bear here. The only one women wouldn't choose in the woods.

Thank you for asking and for protecting Squid Boi!💙

[sanguineterrain]

Hiii, discovered your fics on AO3 and they’re very my jam! If you’re still taking requests, could I suggest something where Jason rescues you, an angsty hurt/comfort? Maybe they’re pining for each-other and maybe confront/confess their feelings, or are already together, up to you.

No worries if not 😊😊 Thanks for the good words ❤️🖤

Hey I know you! Thanks for leaving nice comments over yonder 🥰 Idk if I really delivered on this prompt but I hope you like it anyway lol 😅 I combined this prompt with another I received about Jason and the reader fighting before the reader is hurt/kidnapped.

jason todd x fem!reader. tw: creepy men, crime alley, injured reader, jason shoots people (🎶whatta mighty good man🎶)

****

"If you don't know who this is, you shouldn't be fucking calling. Leave a message after the beep or whatever."

Beeeep!

"Jay, it's me. Can we please talk? You can't ignore me forever. I want us to fix this. I—" You swallow hard. "I miss you."

You sigh, rubbing your forehead as you think of what to say. You've already left three unanswered messages. There's no more for you to say. You just want things to be fixed.

You want your best friend back.

"Okay. Call me when you can."

You hang up and pocket your phone.

The fight was stupid. Jason doesn't respond well to being pushed, but you pushed him anyway. You wanted to know where he disappeared to at night. You were sick of the secrets, of always feeling like you were three steps behind, left in the dark.

If you really cared about me, you would tell me where you go.

Jason had stilled, expression cold.

I don't owe you anything.

Your voice had turned wobbly then.

Jay, don't I mean anything to you? I want you to trust me, I want this to be a normal friendship!

He'd put on his jacket and collected the few things he left in your apartment.

You're right. You deserve normal.

You haven't spoken since. At first, you thought Jason left for a few hours to cool down. So you gave him space.

But then hours turned to days, and now it's been a full week and a half since you'd fought. Last night, you broke down and cried. This is it. You've lost him for good.

Part of you fears the reality is darker than him just leaving. You've long suspected that whatever Jason goes out to do is probably illegal since he's always out at night.

What if you're called down to the police station to identify a body?

All those things left unsaid. Jason will never know you love him.

Screw this. You're going to his apartment.

It's late. It's really late, and this is actually not the best idea to carry out at eight o'clock at night in Crime Alley. There's a reason Jason always insists on hanging out at your apartment or at a cafe.

A man whistles at you down the street. "Goin' somewhere, girlie?"

This was a bad idea. Jason might be the one who has to ID a body tonight.

You can't remember which of these apartments is his. But you can't call him. He can't know you're here, not yet.

"You shouldn't be here, lady!" a kid shouts at you from a fire escape. "He don't like new people on his turf!"

You don't take the time to figure out who the kid means. Crime Alley is known for, well, crime. The sooner you can locate Jason's apartment, the better.

A group of men light cigarettes down the road. You pause and turn around. In the process, you stumble over a garbage can.

That instantly draws their attention.

"Well, what have we here?" one jeers. "You lost, sweetie?"

You run.

You don't care if it makes you look afraid—you are afraid, and you're beyond caring. You shouldn't have come here.

You turn abruptly. You have no idea where you're going, but maybe if you act like you do, you'll throw them off. You take another turn, then another, and you look behind you to check if—

Wham!

You crash into a body. A muscled body, one that forces you backwards.

White, glowing eyes that smolder inside a red helmet meet your own.

Jason's never warned you about the Red Hood. He just tells you to stay away from the area altogether. You don't really need to be warned about Hood anyway. You know what he's about. You know you've probably just sealed your fate tonight.

"What the fuck?" he asks, modulated voice rough.

"I'm sorry," you babble. "Please don't hurt m—"

Gunshots ring out, and you realize you've just stumbled into an active gunfight. With Red Hood.

Fuck your luck.

The gunmen have spotted you, and they take great pleasure in using you as a distraction; they fire at you instead of Hood.

He shields you with his body, blocking the bullets. It works until a flash grenade is thrown, and you're separated from Hood, ears ringing. You hit the ground hard from the impact, scraping your hands and arms.

Someone's arm wraps around your neck, and you're suddenly dragged backward. You scream, scratching at the arm, and a fist thumps your head. You blink at the pain, too dazed to keep fighting.

"We had a deal, Hood!" your captor shouts, arm tightening around your neck. "Let us go or she dies!"

"Negation's over," Red Hood snarls, and shoots all four men.

You cry as the shot echoes too close to your face and for a moment, you fear you've been shot too. The now dead man slips off of you, collapsing in a heap on the ground.

Your ankle protests when you step on it. In the chaos of the fight, you hadn't realized you sprained it. You trip and fall on your butt, scrambling away from the pooling blood.

"What are you doing here?" Hood growls at you, stalking closer.

You start to cry, edging backward.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt your fight, please d-don't kill me—"

You press down hard on your wrist and that hurts more than your ankle. You cry harder at the pain, grabbing your wrist.

Red Hood gets closer, and you try to scramble away with one arm and one leg. He kneels down and holds your good arm in place so you can't move.

"I'm sorry!" you say again, tears thick on your lashes.

"Fuck," Hood says roughly, and unlocks his helmet.

Your eyes widen as he pulls it off.

"J—"

"I told you to never come to this area, and you come alone, in the fucking dark, without a weapon? What the hell is wrong with you?" Jason snarls.

"Please don't yell at me," you whisper, covering your face with your hands.

You're shaking, adrenaline turning your stomach. A moment later, you throw up.

"Shit," Jason says and puts a hand on your stomach to help you sit back up. "Shit, I'm an asshole. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell."

"I thought you died," you say, daring to look at him. "You weren't answering my calls, and you only go out at night. I thought..."

Jason immediately looks avalanched by guilt. He cradles you to his chest.

"Fuck. I'm sorry. I should've—I thought it would be better, leaving."

"I didn't want you to leave," you cry, arms curling around his neck. "I love you so much, Jay. I was so scared. Don't leave me again."

Jason's breath hitches. You freeze, suddenly sure you've screwed it all up.

"Jay—"

"Y'love me?" he asks, cupping your cheek.

You nod emphatically.

"Even though I'm..." He gestures to the helmet.

"I'm just happy you're alive," you say. "I missed you so much, Jason."

His arms tighten around you. "God, I missed you too, baby. I was going crazy not talking to you. I'm sorry I ignored you. Wasn't right of me. But don't ever do this again, okay? If I hadn't been here—"

He takes a shuddering breath and kisses your neck. You nod against his shoulder.

"I promise. Just don't shut me out again, please."

Jason's quiet for a moment. You can feel him thinking.

"This isn't gonna be normal," he says. "If-if we do this. This is part of me. Who I am."

"I don't care," you say. "I love you, Jay. Every part. Whatever that entails."

[maddogofshimano]

A Tiny Man Among Men: Kiryu Boss Rush

oh boy this one was a real hoot. we got two new cards with it that I want to show off because they’re so fun

look at them!! that’s the fish he caught in the opening of Y3!!!!!

summary: Shortly after moving to Okinawa, Kiryu faces down with his most cunning foe yet--a crayfish.

2007 Not long after Kiryu came to Okinawa... Kiryu was invited by a local resident named Uchima to help with a river clean-up event (tl note: name is 内間)

Kiryu: Uchima-san... Is this the river we're supposed to be cleaning up?

Uchima: Sure is. Filthy, right? It's usually beautiful, but inconsiderate people keep throwing garbage into it. Uchima: It's particularly bad right now... I clean trash out of it every month, but before I know it there's more trash than ever. Kiryu: ...That's awful. Uchima: I think up stream's a bit prettier, so how about you handle that since it's your first time. Kiryu: No, I'm fine right here. You should do the up stream. Uchima: ...Eh? A-Are you sure? I'll take you up on that kind offer, I've been having some awful back pain. Kiryu: Sure. I'll do it. Uchima: Well then, I'll get going, and if you need anything just let me know. Uchima: ...Oh, right. Kiryu-san, please watch out for the animals. Kiryu: ? Watch out for... animals? Uchima: During clean-ups, I've had crows and rats and other such animals knock over the trash and cause all sorts of issues. Uchima: Since these are the elite survivors of all the extermination activities done in this area, a lot of them are strangely intelligent. Uchima: This one time a weasel snuck into our house, got into our fridge, and stole all of our food--and mice have been pooping on the mouse traps, almost like they were making fun of us humans... Kiryu: ...Heh, so it's that kind of situation. I got it. I'll be careful. Uchima: Great, see ya then. <he leaves> Kiryu: ...Alright, let's get to it.

<sounds of Kiryu splashing around in the river> Kiryu: ...Whew. Plastic bottles in a convenience store garbage bag... how can someone just dump this in a river...

Kiryu: Seriously... Who the hell would... <a blade-like sound happens> Kiryu: ...Guh!? What the!? American Crayfish: ................. (tl note: also known as the red swamp crayfish, Procambarus clarkii. I'm shortening it just to crayfish from here on)

Kiryu: A crayfish!? ...It was in the trash's crevice!? <another slicing sound, Kiryu steps to the side> Kiryu: Kh... You're quick on your feet... Crayfish: ..... Kiryu: It's back on top of that garbage again. Kiryu: ...I just want to clean up that trash. I don't mean you any harm... so let's just be adults here...

Crayfish: ....! <some kind of hissing sound?> Kiryu: ...No good. If I reach towards it any further, it will definitely catch me. On the other hand, I can't just leave this garbage here. Kiryu: What can I even do here? <a long moment passes in silence> Kiryu: I've got it. There was some dried squid in the trash I just picked up. I'll use it as bait to draw the crayfish away from here. Kiryu: ........Loook, is this some dried squid? Isn't that tasty? Wouldn't it be nice to eat~?

Crayfish: ............. Kiryu: C'mere, c'mereeee, won't you~? If you won't eat it, maybe I should~? Crayfish: ............. Kiryu: ...No reaction at all. Maybe it's not hungry? (tl note: he's so mad that his plan didn't work)

Kiryu: (If that isn't going to work... Then there's gotta be something else that will guy this guy to move.) Crayfish: ...Shaaa! <more hissing, and it smacks into Kiryu before bouncing back> Kiryu: !?

Crayfish: Munch... munch... Kiryu: I-It... took advantage of my momentary lapse in concentration... It took the squid!? Kiryu: Uchima-san said "there are smart animals around here"... don't tell me... this guy's one of them!!?? (tl note: Kiryu. you may be stupid) Crayfish: Shaaaa! Kiryu: ....Excellent. If a battle of wits is what you want, I'll show you what human intelligence is like...! 

<Kiryu ducks down> Kiryu: (...Good, this rock is exactly what I need. Now... Just gotta throw it behind it...) <the rock goes sailing with a comical whistle and a tiny splash> Crayfish: .....! Kiryu: (...Great. Now I can catch it when it's distracted and has its back turned...) Crayfish: .............. Kiryu: ............... Crayfish: .................... Kiryu: (It didn't turn around.....!? Could it be... it read my intentions....?) Crayfish: ............. Kiryu: Actually, where is this guy looking...... It's like there's something behind me..... Crayfish: ....! <another hiss and a slicing sound as Kiryu gets crayfish'd> Kiryu: Guh!

Kiryu: (This guy... the moment I turned my head... it went and pinched me on my damn ass...) Kiryu: (Was its gaze a trap...? Did it read my intentions... and then decide to get revenge?) Kiryu: ...What a clever crayfish. Kiryu: ........ Kiryu: ...Heh, you beat me. I guess I'll give up on those trash bags. <Kiryu leaves> Crayfish: ................... Kiryu: (...But, that was just to make it look that way... The moment it lets its guard down... I'll catch it...!) <Crayfish hisses at Kiryu> Kiryu: .....! Kiryu: Mmm... it feels good to stretch out my arms. This hand would absolutely for certain never ever be trying to catch you~. Crayfish: ........... Kiryu: (Yes, its defenses are down... now!) <The crayfish hisses again> Crayfish: .....! Kiryu: ....! Mmmm... still just stretching out my arms~.

Kiryu: (Damn... It's not turning around yet... what a distrusting creature.) Kiryu: (Yes... now---) <Crayfish hisses again, now with Kiryu much closer> Crayfish: ....! Kiryu: ...Ahhh~. Stretching my arms feels so good~.

Kiryu: (Damn... this guy... How many times is it going to look back here...) Riverside Resident A: ...That person... What's that person doing? Riverside Resident B: It looks like he's playing "Red Light Green Light" with a crayfish... I wonder if that poor guy doesn't have any friends... Kiryu: (...Shit... The stares of passersby are painful...) Kiryu: (I don't think continuing like this is going to get me anywhere... Maybe it's time to abandon this tactic...) Crayfish: ...Shaashaaa.... Kiryu: (It... waved its pincers like a peace sign... Could it be that this is what it wanted?) Kiryu: (In order to humiliate me, did it play along by pretending to be fooled..?) Kiryu: (Just how smart is this thing... and how the hell do I make it leave?) Crayfish: ...Shaaa! <more hissing as it leaps onto Kiryu> Kiryu: !?

Crayfish: Shashaaaa! Kiryu: Guh, this guy... it jumped on me so fast. Kiryu: That was awfully aggressive... I guess you've decided we're total enemies... Crayfish: Sha! .....Shaa? Crayfish: ....Sha!? Sha! Shaaaa! Kiryu: (It... got distracted by a fly... It turned around completely!?) Kiryu: (Heh, no matter how smart it is, in the end it's just an animal... This is my chance... I'm going to catch this thing now!) Kiryu: Haa! <wooshing sound> Crayfish: ....Sha! <slicing sound> Kiryu: Guhh!? Kiryu: (Stupid... I tried to grab hold of its back, but it pinched my hand...) Kiryu: (I was using its blind spot to catch it... how did it know...) Crayfish: Shashashashasha.... Kiryu: Damn... It's doing that gesture again. Kiryu: (You're kidding... was getting distracted by a fly all an act!? Did it use that as a trap so it could attack me when I got near!?) Kiryu: (It's looking down on me... But now I have to admit that it's smart... maybe even smarter than me...) Kiryu: (Even so... there's still a way to do this... there's something in the trash, I'm sure.) Crayfish: Shaaa! <hissing> Crayfish: ....Shaa!? <it falls into the water> Kiryu: ...Wh-! That guy was swinging its arms around as a threat but then... it fell!? Crayfish: Shaa... Shaa... !? Kiryu: And it landed on its back so it seems it can't get back up. Heh, what an unexpectedly stupid move. Kiryu: This time I'm going to catch you...! Haaa! <another whoosh> Crayfish: ...Sha! <a big slicing sound> Kiryu: ...Heh, of course not being able to get back up was an act too. Kiryu: I knew that you'd try to trick me into another attack like that, since you see me as your enemy and look down on me. Kiryu: But... this time I grabbed you not with my bare hands, but with these disposable chopsticks. Kiryu: Bad luck for you. You didn't pinch my finger... just these chopsticks that were thrown in the river! Crayfish: ...!? Kiryu: I'll throw these chopsticks with you still latched on... then I'll be free to finish cleaning up the trash!! Haa!! Crayfish: ...!! Kiryu: (Yes... It's still holding onto the chopsticks...! Take this...!!) <a crunching sound> Kiryu: ....! Crayfish: Sha... Shaaa...! Kiryu: Damn... so the chopsticks were rotten huh... The couldn't withstand the force of the throw and broke...

Kiryu: I was so close to getting this guy out of here... Crayfish: ...Shaa! Kiryu: You're a clever thing, I don't think the same trick will work on you twice. That said, I can't think of any other tricks to try... Kiryu: ...Well, it's fine. I concede. I can't beat you in a battle of wits. Crayfish: Sha? <the music cuts out> Kiryu: ...But, I still have to make this river beautiful. Kiryu: It doesn't matter how many times I get pinched... If I take you head on, I will catch you. Crayfish: ............! Crayfish: Shaaaa!!!!

<EVENT HAPPENS, WHICH IS A BOSS RUSH VS THE CRAYFISH>

Kiryu: Haa... Haa... Haa...!

<Kiryu gets close to the crayfish and grabs it> Crayfish: ....!? Kiryu: ...Whew, I finally caught you. Crayfish: Shaaa! Shaaaa! Kiryu: I'm holding you by your back. You can't get me with your pincers anymore. Kiryu: Finally, I can clean up this garbage... Huh? Small Crayfishes: Shashaa! Kiryu: Inside this garbage there's... baby crayfish... wait, are these your children? Crayfish: Shaa! Shaaa! Kiryu: ....I see. You were just trying to protect them. Kiryu: What I saw as a simple convenience store bag full of garbage was a nest you had to protect. Kiryu: ............ <he sets the crayfish down> Crayfish: .....! Kiryu: I'm sorry for causing a disturbance on your turf. Kiryu: I'll tell Uchima-san and the others to leave your garbage alone. Crayfish: ....Shaaa! <fade to black> Haruka: Oh, you're back Uncle Kaz!

Kiryu: ...Yep. I'm home, Haruka. Haruka: You were doing the river clean-up, right? Did you clean a lot? Kiryu: Yes. Though I almost cleaned up too much, and would have taken away an important home for the animals living there... Kiryu: I'm really glad I noticed it soon enough. Haruka: Is that so... I'm glad. You almost became an "invasive species" to that area, Uncle Kaz. Kiryu: ...Invasive species? Haruka: Yep. I learned about it today in science class. Invasive species take away the habitats of the animals who lived there originally. Haruka: That's why it's bad to release non-native species into the wild. Kiryu: ...I see. I don't know much about that, so I'll have to be mindful. Kiryu: By the way, what kinds of non-native species are there? Haruka: Ummm there's... raccoons, and black bass, and snapping turtle, and american bullfrogs... Kiryu: Woah... So even some of the animals we know. Haruka: Oh, and the american crayfish! Kiryu: A... American crayfish!? Haruka: U-Um, yeah. They eat the native species, spread disease, and damage the ecosystem. Kiryu: What the hell... Kiryu: But... It's not like they're trying to cause trouble, right? Kiryu: If you live, you have to eat and you have to get sick... It's not like they can help it if that ends up being an issue. Haruka: ...Wellll... I guess that's true, but...

Kiryu: Besides, I can assuredly say that this one’s devoted to their family. For their family's sake, they had the bravery to stand up to someone bigger than themself. Haruka: ....This one? Kiryu: I don't know if they were male or female, but they were a true man among men. If they were a human, I'd like to share a drink with them... Kiryu: ...I know. Haruka, why don't you come meet them? I'm sure you'll change your mind if you just meet-- Haruka: Uncle Kaz... did something happen with a crayfish?

<END EVENT>

Bonus stuff:

you don’t understand Haruka the yakuza invasive species are just trying to live their lives the only way they can! and sure they might be destructive but what else can they do? maybe that morally gray father figure crayfish was taking care of orphans!!

[martialartslover7]

I am so frustrated about Hinata Hyuga.

Like, do you want to know, why I won't shut up about her? Leaving the romance aspect with Naruto aside, I just find this so insanely disrespectful towards her, that, canonically speaking, ignoring all the filler, She. Doesn't have. Even a SINGLE. On-screen. Victory. To her name. And all she gets reduced to now, in Boruto, is "housewife".

All she gets reduced to, is merely an "extension" to Naruto. For being his wife, she literally can't match up with him in terms of overall feats. The power balance is all off. Everything hinges purely on Naruto, every time. I don't like this. And yeah, go on, get all smart on me, try to correct me by bringing up that damned databook, this is one instance where I go: Fuck all of this, I don't want to read this shit, I WANT TO SEE IT. ON-SCREEN. SHOW. DON'T TELL. Don't just show me some random throwaway factoid garbage from a databook, that holds as much weight to the overall canon, as a miniscule hole in a sinking ship.

And what makes this worse, you just have to re-contextualize all of this:

Hinata took her training seriously

She was inspired by Naruto, without getting downright obsessive over him, meaning, she still got her priorities straight as a standalone kunoichi, while making use of his "proud loser" mentality to boost her own confidence

Her entire character, by default, is the classic trope of "princess, rebelling against her dogshit family", just to break the molds, making her so easy to root for

She remained humble, until the very end

...But what does all this mean for her? Nothing.

Every single fight, in-canon, that she participated in, always ended in a loss for her, even in Shippuden, where she is supposed to be stronger, it doesn't make any goddamn sense, you train your whole life, and you can't win a single fight, when it absolutely needs to count?

In the course of the story, all that happens to her, 80% of the time, is her getting abducted, and this happens about THREE. FUCKING. TIMES. The first time is perfectly excuseable, because it happened, when she just barely jumped out of the womb of her mother, but two more times, once when she was a Genin, and once as a fucking adult, by Toneri? COME. ON. That last one is just low.

All her clan issues just get resolved off-screen, we never get a rematch between her and Neji, not a proper look into the clan's politics, and in the end, Neji's death only ended up traumatizing her even harder, for no freaking reason, his death still remains so pointless and hollow to me, like, this is a pattern I keep noticing, every time she was on-screen, either she does nothing of significance, or she is busy eating Ls like a champ

I can't believe this shit, man. I am not just here for the NaruHina fluff, I am also here for Hinata, and what happened to her, to me, is a textbook example, on how NOT to write a side character, let alone one, that is later "destined" to become a romance confidant for the main character. I am not sugercoating this, you can do countless Hinata appreciation posts, the question, do you really appreciate her character, or do you just like her, because she is drawn to be super pretty, all the while knowing, she got reduced to a worthless jobber, the long the story went on? Because to me, that is just shallow. You can draw her the absolute prettiest, it won't mean anything, when all she is now, is just a wife "trophy", no more of her own thing. Seriously, shame on you.

PEACE.

[babyangelsky]

Color (and Fabric) Coded boys in love get happy endings!

All I have been wanting for the past two months is to see a colorful pattern on Tongrak's body so I could know that his love for Mahasamut is real.

AND THE FINALE GAVE IT TO ME IMMEDIATELY! Look at those blue stripes!

But...

It is not yet time for sunshine and roses. The shirt has solid pockets on its front, and one of those pockets is over Rak's heart. He loves Mahasamut, he's loved him this whole time, but his fear of love and what it means and what it can do to people is still guarding his heart.

He rejects Mut's confession. He desperately attempts to draw up another agreement to shield himself from the love being offered to him, not that it would work anyway. It isn't even needed. His fear has already created a barrier between them just like the frame of the sliding glass doors is.

Mut crosses it as he tries to make Rak understand that what he feels for him is sincere and that none of this was ever about the money. He asks Rak how much he has to pay to get his love and gives all the money back in an absolutely devastating parallel to when Rak offered him increasing amounts of money back on the island to speak central dialect with him.

Only this time, it doesn't work. Rak refuses Mut and his love and physically pushes him back on his side of the barrier.

Tongrak's fear is too great and Mahsamut turns and leaves because as he told Mook, it's not all up to him. He said he would accept a rejection and he does.

He sits at Rak's table and comes to terms with everything and this shot is so brilliant because it's showing us that the house itself and what it represents is a barrier. He followed Tongrak and basically walked away from his life and who he is and we can see that.

There's a pillar and glass between Mut and the multicolored light on the left. The light that's being reflected on the water.

And when he finally leaves, he does so back in his own colorful patterned shirt.

He says goodbye to his friends and his niece and he finally breaks down listening to Meena and her mother talk about how much Tongrak loves romances and the number 8 and its significance to him and it's heartbreaking.

Mahasamut has been bearing all this like a champ but he's only human and all of this is too much. He earned that breakdown and I'm glad he got to be comforted by his baby girl in her colorful patterned dress.

It's incredibly fitting that when we finally see Tongrak wear a color other than black or white is when he comes close to losing Mahasamut's bracelet and really fully realizes what he rejected and threw away.

Even more fitting? The colorful garbage truck.

He hasn't lost the bracelet, of course. Ain't no way Vivi was letting it be thrown away and in not doing so, she finally gets through to Tongrak and gets him to verbalize his fears. She comforts and reassures him and asks him what he's going to do and encourages him to be brave.

And it works!

Look at the difference between Tongrak the first and second time he arrives on the island. This is a man who knows where he is and what he's about!

He doesn't know what to say to Mahasamut or where to even begin but he knows that it's on him to make things clear and he's so scared the whole time but he still tries.

He shows up in front of Mahasamut again and again in his solid textures and again and again he fails. He wants to explain himself to Mahsamut so badly but he simply cannot find the words and he needs to because Mut is hurting and tender and trying to protect himself.

BUT MY BOY AIN'T NO QUITTER!

He finds the words and a way to apologize and explain himself to Mut and he goes to wait on that beach in his textured PATTERNED shirt with no more solid pockets over his heart.

AND MAHASAMUT DOES A CHAMPIONSHIP BL RUN AND THE DISTANCE BETWEEN THEM DISAPPEARS!

Tongrak is still so scared but he musters up all the bravery he can and apologizes face to face and finally FINALLY gives Mahasamut the words that matter.

Tongrak overcame his fear, put on his man's patterns, and finally allowed himself to love and think about a future with the love of his life.

"Home to me is you."

COLOR AND FABRIC CODED BOYS IN LOVE GET HAPPY ENDINGS!

[myloveoffandoms]

Bug Bites and Socks

Pairings: Daryl Dixon x Reader (Female)

Summary: Reader is suck in shorts and is hoping to find something better suited for killing walkers, or in their case avoiding bug bites.

Warnings: Age gap (Could be read different as age isn't mentioned), As always bad grammar.

Tags: ??? You guys tell me.

Word count: 1.4k approx.

A/N: This is post prison era, this is also from my archives (aka word docs i never posted) Only proof read once. The girl in the photo is AI and not necessarily the characters looks but AI was being an ASS when I asked for black knee high socks in combat boots so I decided to just use what I was able to get.

Photo Inspo: https://ca.pinterest.com/pin/2251868556842908/

“Come on. We gotta keep movin’.” Daryl says gruffly, as he looks at me leaning on a tree for support. Every fiber in my body was screaming, telling me to rest but I knew we had to keep moving.

“I know… I just need two seconds” I let my head hang down for a moment.

“One, two. Now come on before we lose daylight.” I roll my eyes at the comment, but a small smile breaks on my face. It was closest thing to a joke I had heard from Daryl in the time that I knew him.

“Ha. Ha. You’re so funny.” Sarcasm dripping from my voice. The man Infront of me scoffs in response. I push off the tree and start walking again. He watches me approach before turning and walking along side me, bow always at the ready.

As we continue, every now and then I have to hit at my ankles and legs from the bugs trying to bite. “If ya wore pants an not shorts you wouldn’t have as many bugs at ya” He grumbles out as he watches me swat off another mosquito.

“Well, running from walkers wasn’t exactly on the itinerary for today.” I say quietly. I was already annoyed with myself for not being more prepared and stuck in dark jean shorts. I didn’t need to be called out on it too. I was on meal prep duty before the prison was attacked, and it was ridiculously warm out at the time shorts didn’t seem like the worst idea, clearly, I was wrong.

“Just sayin’.” Daryl utters out.

“Hey, look” I slow my pace as I see a building through the trees up ahead. Daryl picks up pace some, to see what it was and if anyone or thing was around.

“it’s a house, don’t look like anyone around or inside” he says quietly.

“Scavenge and move on or hold up for the night?” I ask as we approach it slowly.

“let’s see what’s inside first.” He says holding his bow drawn as a single walker staggers out of the woods. He doesn’t waste the arrow and we both run inside the house trying carfully to not draw attention of the undead.

The house had definitely been picked over, dirt and broken items scattered the floors. Furniture ruined or upturned. Daryl went searching in the kitchen I crept slowly upstairs. First room was near empty except mess. The bathroom had nothing but garbage nothing worthy of taking. The second room clearly belonged to a girl. Photos scattered the floor, happy faces. Posters of movies, and bands hung haphazardly on the walls and ripped on floors. I went to the dresser, of course nothing no pants, nothing. I scanned the floor again. I see the closet door hanging off the rack. I walk over and look inside again nothing but garbage or useless items. I scan the shelf nothing, top one I couldn’t see so I carefully run my hand over it my fingers graze over something soft I grab it and pull it down. A ball of black sits in my hands. After a second, I realize its socks.

I hold them in my hand as throwing them from one to the other as I continue to search for anything food, pants, anything at all upstairs. Nothing. Only a pair of black socks.

I go down the stairs to see Daryl slamming an upper cupboard closed. “There ain’t nothin’ here!” He shouts. “What ya find?” He asks eyeing the black ball in my hands.

“Catch. Its socks.”

Daryl catches them with ease and lets out a scoff well doing so. He undoes them to show two extremely long black socks. Daryl looks at them kind of confused for a moment. I quickly go up to him taking them from his hands.

I sit on the back of what was once a couch, I untie my boots and kick them off taking off my ripped socks I had on and setting them on the couch.

“What the hell are ya doin’.” He asks clearly wondering why I so quickly decided I needed to change socks. “Protection from the bugs.” I say as I pull on one of the black socks it sits just below my knee. I quickly put my opposite leg up on the couch pulling the sock up past my calf and letting it snap against my skin when I hit my knee.

I turn to look at Daryl whose gaze slowly climbs from my legs to my eyes. I tilt my head slightly trying to read the emotion on his face. I couldn’t quite place it, he almost looked… hungry. Then it hit me we still haven’t eaten and no food here. He was hungry and probably annoyed at me stopping to change socks.

I lean over and tie my boots. Happen to have some more coverage on my legs. When I finish tying, I stand back up straight, and Daryl still watches me. He swallows hard once and then turns back to the kitchen.

“Sorry…” I mumble out. I don’t think he heard me.

“Lets keep movin’ maybe I can hunt somethin’ before night hits” Daryl grumbles out, heading to the door. I follow behind him.

It was night Daryl was able to catch a few squirrels since we had left the abandon house. Although the days have been warm the nights have been cold and temps been dropping lower and lower as days pass.

I watch Daryl as he leans against a log. He was cleaning his bows and placing them back in their designated spots. I liked watching him sometimes. Even before he was always just so into his own thing. It also helped that I found him undeniably attractive. The brown hair and bluish, green eyes. I shiver as a wind passes through.

I see it blow the hair from his face. I hesitate for a moment before I speak. “Daryl…”

He turns to look at me. “Could I- I mean could… I was..” I mentally roll my eyes at myself for stuttering so much.

“Can ya what?” He asks his full attention on me.

“Well, I was wondering if I could, lay beside you…” He just blinks so I continue to talk “I just mean it’s cold and it would help keep warmth... Never mind bad idea” I say shaking my head.

He watches me for a moment before he sets his knife that laid on his left side over to the right. I close my eyes taking his silence as a no. Then I hear him clear his throat. I open my eyes, and he looks from me to the spot empty on his left.

I lean up slowly and make way over to him then slowly lay beside him. I don’t curl in. but he blocks the wind and just being closer gives some extra warmth.

It didn’t take me long to fall asleep.

Third person POV

Daryl tensed when she laid down next to him. He wasn’t sure how to feel about her being so close.

The way she had put her new socks on early made a warmth go through him. Her smiling as she pulled them up and the smirk when she said it was bug protection. It caused a feeling of warmth Daryl wasn’t fully familiar with. Yes, some was in an attraction sense but there was more there.

She laid beside him, her breathing remaining calm and steady as she slept. Daryl pushed himself down on the log some. Enough to keep partial elevated, but also enough to let him rest more.

After a few minutes had passed. She stirred lightly in her sleep turning to face Daryl. She reached out and cuddled into his side. Her head resting on his chest, and a leg over his. He watched as she curled in closer. He remained completely stiff and unmoving. He watched her closely for a moment before relaxing and gently resting his hand on her mid back and side. He couldn’t help but enjoy the feeling of having her so close and so at peace with him. Daryl relaxed some allowing himself to close his eyes and rest, with the beautiful girl he’s slowly come to know and holding her close.

[dadsbongos]

the girl next door - t.ino

part of the jjk movie marathon event / movie selection … warnings - unrealistic dick sucking?, testicles, facial, camgirl/solo star reader, consensual video recording/posting, i still can't do smut without fluff its just a fact word count - 1.8 K / rating - R

Takuma is young. It shows in every possible aspect of his life. His hair is thick and full, his skin is smooth and unweathered, he can’t afford a house so he signed an apartment lease. And finally, he daydreams about his pretty neighbor when he should be focusing on not dying via curse or filing boring paperwork (anytime he has to be a real adult, honestly).

Since the moment you first moved in, he was hooked. Offering to lift all your heavy possessions into your unit right beside his, all for little more than the promise of a cold beer. A beer that you’d offered. He would’ve done the job for free.

Nanami insisted that the initial infatuation would pass as you continued being neighbors. He was wrong.

Takuma’s distractingly massive crush continued to snowball until eventually, he was sure it could be categorized as obsession. But to be fair to him, you fed into it.

Having dinner with him. Checking in after every lengthy mission. Trading spare keys to your apartments. Knocking on his door in the deep dark night when you hear something go bump.

Tonight, it’s his turn to startle out of bed - ears burning with your scream still bouncing around his skull. His skin is prickled and damp with sweat, body still slumping with exhaustion as he clumsily slams towards his front door. By the time Takuma’s exposed to chilly night air, he’s fully awake - thin sleep shirt and boxers doing nothing to protect his shivering limbs.

Maybe it’s the sorcerer in him, but his head immediately goes to the worst; past gutters and garbage pails and dingy avenues and straight into hell. Bodies ripped apart and rotting away. Darkness that lingers through any hour of the day. Caution tape he and Nanami could be ducking under to perform their own investigation.

He slips through your door - barely able to hear the sounds of your whimpering and huffing over his own labored breaths.

A plain white door seals your noises. The door you’ve told him leads to nothing more than a boring guest room. Another yelp draws Takuma to the metallic knob, it’s cold in his hand.

Takuma is young. Reckless and blindly following his instinct. He thinks he’s mature and seasoned as a sorcerer, and he doesn’t stop to consider more plausible explanations when he’s already certain you’re in danger.

Preferably, when he barged in - you’d still be unharmed and he could save the day and finally work up the courage to make things official.

When Takuma barges in you’re unharmed, but more eye-catching than that - you’re not in need of saving. At all.

A man with long, flowing black hair that you’d once introduced as an old high school friend glares up at him from a chair in the corner. In front of the boy is a camera on a tripod. In front of the camera, is you on your back - arched up - hips tittering and twitching against the vibrator strapped cruelly to your clit.

“Uh- hah?” you look up, eyes glazed as your muscles seize up and legs clench shut, hips bucking wildly against the stubborn buzzing, “‘kuma!”

The man sitting behind the camera throws his hands up, evidently frustrated, before shutting off the vibrator.

Takuma clenches his eyes shut, both to block out the sight and memory of you calling his name as you came, “Shit- sorry!”

He rushes back out the room, only pausing when he hears your voice - a little cracked and raw, “Hey, wait!”

You’re clenching a silky crimson sheet over your shoulders as if the thin, draping material could possibly leave much to the imagination. As if he hadn’t seen and heard positively everything, you shyly avoid meeting his eyes before asking in that fried voice,

“Does this change anything?”

Rearing his head back in shock, Takuma immediately denies, shaking his head vigorously, “What?” his head bends down a little, desperately trying to find your gaze, “That you make porn?” he rubs the back of his neck, “Nah, just embarrassed I- you know…”

You do know.

You hum, squeezing the sheet tighter around your bare body. Pure boyishness in his flustered nature, something polite and sweet and youthful. All tongue and tenderness. It makes you want to tear him up between your canines. See just how embarrassed he can get.

“If you’re ever interested, then you can be in a couple.”

You almost wish you had the camera pointed at Takuma to catch his adorable jaw drop, “For real?!”

…

“There’s something very special about this video,” you tilt your head, resting it against your shoulder, “I’d like to introduce someone.”

Reaching out, you snag Takuma by the shirt and drag his stiff body closer to your side. He stumbles into frame, watching with wide eyes as his hard cock bobs by your face. Your smile is nothing but sly, dripping sex appeal as you bat your lashes at the camera. He feels hot, entirely unused to the feeling of this faux third presence in the bedroom. The nerves settle into something more familiar when you reach up, lovingly scathing your nails across the thick planes of his bare thighs.

You press your cheek against the reddening skin, a shadow casting across your eyes and nose as his erection hangs above your face. It twists the unpleasantness in his gut back to arousal. Nice, warm, familiar arousal. Running the tip of your index finger along the underside all the way to his drooling slit, “My newest toy. And if this goes well, then he might just become a regular addition.”

He knows what you mean. But the intimidation factor still rests heavily in his muscles. He knows you wouldn’t dump him over what your viewers had to say; but as he stares at that shiny lens, he feels that delusional angst begin clawing up from the bottom of his throat.

Then he feels your soft lips press against the ticklish spot on his hip. A soft dew is left behind by your gloss, and he briefly wonders how many times he’d be called an idiot if he got the residue’s imprint tattooed.

Your previous teasing grin morphs into something more genuine. Your boyfriend’s red in the face with both hands stuffed behind his back to avoid obstructing the camera’s view of its star.

“Try to relax for me, yeah?” you mutter against his skin, “Trust me - the best stuff is when you’re really enjoying yourself.”

He tries to grin, but the pounding of his heart is too obnoxious to ignore, “Don’t wanna embarrass myself.”

“You won’t,” you straighten up on your knees, petting a hand down the back of his thigh, “You can watch it back if you want. If you don’t like it, it won’t go up.”

His shoulders loosen, he nods, “Yeah, yeah - okay!” suddenly, he’s looking back at the camera, “You won’t leave this in, right?”

“‘Course not,” you kiss his hip bone again, “Just relax and have fun, baby. Best stuff is all raw.”

You lean up on your knees, pooling frothy spit to the perch of your lips and letting it dribble over the warm, flushed head of Takuma’s cock. Your hand spreads the mess down his length while your tongue strips up the underside of him. Kissing his cockhead before sliding your boyfriend into your mouth.

He whines a little, hips subconsciously bucking deeper into your warm maw. His tip pops past the rim of your throat and his arms come up and press against his lips, trying to smother down the whimpers that claw for escape.

The weight of his cock slides along your tongue, and you hum at the feeling. At the heated skin seering your soft mouth.

Hollowing your cheeks and curving his cock down your throat, you take earnest delight in how Takuma shudders seeing your nose pressed against his dark pubes. Pulling back, you press your tongue into the underside of your boyfriend, and let the saliva gurgling past your lips pool into the palm of your hand. Once wet, your hand comes up to Takuma’s balls and bathes them with attention.

He moans this time, cheeks reddening at the sound as he glances towards the camera shyly. Aiming to take his mind off the embarrassment, you slip yourself back down to the base of his dick. Thighs squishing together at the burgeoning heat from his lewd mewls.

Saliva oozes past your plumped, raw lips and drips down your chin. Takuma wants to politely wipe it away, but he’s too preoccupied trying not to humiliate himself by cumming already. You unsheath his cock from your throat again, and he’s ready to bitch out between his moans when you swap your hand and mouth.

Your warm tongue envelopes his balls while your hand fucks his cock. You let the wet, hot, smooth skin brush over your cheek and temple and the messiness of it sends tingles over your boyfriend’s spine. One of his hands darts over yours, squeezing tightly around his dick, while the other finds the back of your head. He whimpers and bucks and you’re not acting when you perk up in excitement.

Licking back up to the head of his cock, you let Takuma take over jerking himself off, and decide to give him more eye candy to finish off the video.

“Cum for me, honey,” you coo, hands squeezing and pulling at Takuma’s thick thighs like putty, “Want it, want ya to cum for me.”

Takuma’s chest is beet red in constant flux as he heaves and whimpers, tugging his cock over your face. His eyes are low and fluttering with lips pink and wet, rounding and stretching into the prettiest little ‘O’ for you. His eyes crinkle shut and his head is thrown back with a final moan when the first spurt of cum hits your cheek.

You moan, mostly for added effect rather than pure enjoyment, as Takuma milks the last of his orgasm onto your lolled tongue and hot cheeks. When no more splatters out onto your face and the overstimulation starts to burn at him, Takuma takes his hand away. You turn to the camera, swallowing the cum on your tongue.

When you feel stray flecks of cum beginning to run down your brow, you close your eyes and try to wipe where you feel the mess.

Takuma gasps - air washing consciousness back into his jittering body - eyes falling down onto your face. Both eyes scrunched and skin painted in sticky streaks.

“Ah, shit,” Takuma yanks his pants up, ignoring the unpleasant sensation in favor of dashing through your apartment for one of your older towels. The ones you keep specifically to clean up nasty messes. He wipes away the cum with a damp towelette, then dries you off with a separate one, “Sorry, sorry. I know it’s kinda gross…”

“Babe,” you snicker, “I literally told you to do it.”

He scoffs, continuing to dab at water trickling down your face, “Yeah, but the clarity I just got - like if a guy did that to me? Holy shit.”

You laugh again and he feels the hot fire of pride ignite in his chest, “Be fair, you’re not into men.”

“Okay, but if I was,” he pecks your lips when he’s sure none of his cum clings along your skin, “I still can’t be disrespecting my hot breadwinner girlfriend, you know?”

~~

i <3 takuma. begging gege to spare him