#having him win like this is so much worse than any loss

[batboyblog]

i live in the south, and i used to follow someone on here who lives in the same state as me, who i thought would've understood how difficult things are for marginalized people who live in red states and why we needed harris to win. but they kept reblogging posts about how both parties are the same and anyone who votes for harris is voting for genocide (as if letting trump win was going to be any better?? he's just started talking about wanting to "clean out the whole thing" and forcibly displace all remaining palestinians by making them move to jordan and egypt, an idea which every group who would be affected hates 🙄). i kept hoping they'd finally realize the very obvious fact that contributing to trump's win wasn't going to make things better for any decent person in the world but the last straw for me was when they posted something like "well i was going to go vote for [fictional character] but the line was too long so i just went home haha!!" i blocked them right after that, and now of course trump is in office and things are going to get so much worse for me and for them as those of us in red states have so much less of a chance to push back against our local governments and all of the bigots who voted for trump will feel more emboldened by his win. so yeah, i share your small fantasy that people like that will wake up and realize they were wrong for spreading these ideas. sorry for venting in your inbox though lol, you don't have to reply to this if you don't want to!

One of my best friends in politics is from Louisiana. He's gay and when he came out his parents sent him to a pray the gay away camp where... really horrible shit happened. And I think about that skinny kid coming out of just the most horrible shit imaginable and being a Freshman in college working his ass off for a Red State Democratic Senator, Mary Landrieu, Mary didn't win, but he worked SO hard for her. And we met working on Hillary's campaign together, boy has bad luck with Democratic women running for office.

Any ways the point is, I love red state Dems, I really do. My friend really loved John Bel Edwards, now I don't think either of us really fully agreed with Edwards, I know my friend was as feminist as a gay boy can be and believed in the right to an abortion totally, Edwards was/is one of the rare pro-life Democrats. But my friend understood, a Democratic governor would protect more people's rights, do more for the poor and the disadvantaged. Edwards' signed an order day one in office banning LGBT discrimination in the state government, when a Republican took over 8 years later, day one, threw that order out, a lot like Trump undoing all the pro-LGBT orders Biden did and rolling back trans rights/access to federal documents that came about under President Obama and Secretary of State Hillary Clinton.

I think thats the thing, in Red States and in America at large we share this big country with a lot of people most of whom are more conservative than I am, so how do I get as much of what I want as I can? Do I vote Mickey Mouse for President? no I vote for the candidate that will do the most good, I won't always agree with them, I don't agree with myself most of the time.

idk it's not... theoretical to me? I'm likely not writing my best work here but when it comes to voting I think about all the people in my life who needed help, if they got it or not, and the ways they were left behind or would have been life behind and all the kids out there, queer kids trans kids, the poor always the poor kids, you know and the loss they'll suffer because of 4 years of a Republican President. And yes Trump is a VERY bad Republican President but if we ever get to some future after him there will come a time where maybe a bland centrist Democrat will run against a business focused Republican, Bush V Gore? and people will say "oh there's no difference" and there is.

oh also I want to say, the little old ladies, the normie "cringe lib" wine moms and grandmas (and yes dads and granddads, but more women then men tbh) who struggle with a grand-nephews pronouns did more for trans rights by going out knocking doors for Harris one weekend, then shitty leftist posters (trans and not) who endlessly attacked Dems and voting.

any ways I'm sorry all this is happening, idk what state you're in or how bad it is or will be. I don't have easy answers for living through this long night of the soul. As Thomas Paine put it all those years ago "These are the times that try men's souls: The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of his country; but he that stands it now, deserves the love and thanks of man and woman." it is trying my soul, but I will endure as we all must endure, we can not give up we cannot fail, we cannot allow ourselves to be ground down by fascists, and by their handmaids who act as if they're on our side, I hope everyone is looking to what they can do, and what the next chance they have to fight back and take back political power is.

[nenekobasu]

the problem here (one of the many problems here) is that ubers is narratively the end of isagi’s journey right. isagi had several journeys that were happening concurrently first his ubers-wide journey represented by the goals that mirror each other (the suggested lack of evolution this implies is concerning— isagi ended the game by just barely reproducing what he started with), his journey to reach noa in the super-theory that played out almost exactly as he had first described in their first conversation, his journey to number 1 striker in the world (intermediate) arguably ends here when he fulfilled his perfect vision-ideal of what a number 1 striker looks like

ubers by recycling moments from chapter 1 (the pass, the scream) also implies it’s leading up to a new start, chapter 1 isagi began his journey proper by running into blue lock and ubers calls back to moments when isagi’s ichinan journey ended, ubers the death/rebirth game about endings and for isagi ubers is the ending of his journey now that he’s achieved his personal striker’s ideal

nel arc is 4 games and going into barcha and manshine and ubers isagi had clear goals clear objectives he wanted to accomplish and now he has none and that’s the problem right that isagi reached peak too fast. ordinarily a shonen mc would reach peak after a steady series of ups and downs after building up strengths that are meant to last, but since isagi’s at the top now, what does he have left to prove? what fights does he have left? isagi probably doesn’t register rin as a threat he thinks he’s got his winning formula down. this is the end of isagi’s many journeys and the worst part is it’s not even an end that suggests a new beginning, isagi is nagi-reo now and the only thing this promises is death

[soft-serve-soymilk]

Do u think Theon has a gambling addiction

[catchastarorten]

—More than anything.

Pairing: Cho Sang-woo x lover!fem!reader

Summary: You had supported him through everything, but when you fell sick, he couldn't save you because of debt, so he participated in the games. The blood, the violence, it was all worth it because it was all for you, but he still couldn’t save you, even after winning.

Warnings: angst, illness, death, grief/loss, mentions of violence, guilt/sacrifice, emotional distress, Sang-woo won the games in this au, english isn't my first language, mistakes should be present, sorry!

Word count: ~ 1.9k

The first time you met Sang-woo, it was in the bustling hallways of Seoul National University, your books pressed against your chest as he nearly toppled over you in his haste. Apologies poured out of him, flustered but composed, but it was the soft smile that followed that made you pause. You didn’t know it then, but that clumsy encounter would change both of your lives forever.

From that moment, he had become everything to you. And soon enough, you realized you were everything to him too. Sang-woo was the kind of man who always seemed in control of himself. But with you, that cool demeanor softened. He would laugh more, touch your hand absentmindedly, watch you as if you were the only thing in the world worth looking at.

You supported each other through the tough years at university. His mind was brilliant—quick, sharp, and endlessly determined. It wasn’t hard to see why he was the pride of his family, the hope of his mother. He was going to do great things, you always believed that, and you reminded him every chance you got.

Sang-woo always spoke of a future where he’d be successful, where his mother would never have to work a day in her life again. And somewhere in that future—he said with a tentative smile—was you.

Years passed, and the challenges of adulthood crept in. Sang-woo’s ambitions, once so pure and noble, became entangled in desperation as he fell into debt. It started small—a few bad investments, a loan here and there, promises that he’d make it all back soon. But soon, the debts piled into something worse, a mess that loomed over both of your lives.

He had so much promise, so much potential, and you wanted to see him succeed. So when he started to falter—when the world wasn’t as kind, when the debts began to gather up, and his once-unshakable confidence began to fracture—you did what you thought any partner would do. You helped him.

You saw the way the guilt ate away at him. He tried to hide it, but you knew him too well.

“I’ll pay off this part for now,” you’d told him gently, holding the bank statement in your hand. He had stared at you, his expression tight, his hands gripping the edge of the table so hard his knuckles turned white.

“No,” he had said firmly. “You’ve done enough. I should be the one taking care of you, not the other way around.”

But you didn’t care about that. You knew he felt ashamed, that his pride was bleeding, but you loved him too much to let him drown. “Sang-woo,” you whispered, reaching out to place your hand over his. “I’m doing this because I want to. Because I believe in you.”

He looked at you like you were his lifeline, the only light in his darkening world. He kissed your hand and said nothing more, but no matter how much you reassured him, the guilt lingered. He began to withdraw, the weight of his mistakes crushed him.

Then, as if the universe wasn’t cruel enough, you fell ill. It started with fatigue and a persistent ache in your chest. You brushed it off at first, telling yourself that it was just stress, but when the symptoms worsened, you finally went to the hospital.

The diagnosis was a gut punch. The doctors spoke in clinical terms, but all Sang-woo heard at the moment was that it was serious. You needed treatment, the treatment was possible, but expensive.

The hospital bills mounted quickly. You had always lived sparingly, but this was different. The treatment you needed was far beyond what either of you could afford, especially with Sang-woo already drowning in debt. You had tried to remain strong, tried to reassure him even when your body weakened and the days became harder to endure.

But Sang-woo wasn’t strong. At least not in the way you were. He didn't want to put up the pretense of having a "perfect" reputation anymore, he just wanted you.

One night, as you lay in your hospital bed, pale and shivering despite the blankets covering you, he dropped to his knees beside you. He gripped your hand so tightly it hurt, his head bowed, his shoulders shaking.

“I’ll get the money,” he said, his voice trembling with determination. “I’ll find a way. I promise.”

You looked at him then, really looked at him, and for the first time, you saw the man you loved falling apart. His face was gaunt, his eyes bloodshot, guilt and desperation consuming him.

“Sang-woo,” you whispered, your heart breaking for him. For both of you. “I’ll be okay... don’t do anything reckless.”

But he shook his head, his jaw set in that stubborn way you’d come to know so well. He pressed his lips to your forehead, a lingering, desperate kiss.

“I’ll come back,” he said. “With the money. Just hold on for me.”

You wanted to believe him, but as you watched him walk away, a part of you knew that he was heading down a dangerous path.

At first, you tried to think light. You thought he had simply left to clear his head. Maybe he was meeting someone to talk about loans or some other last-ditch effort to save you. But then the days turned into weeks, and Sang-woo didn’t return.

You tried calling him, but his phone went unanswered. You asked the nurses, his mother, even some of his old university friends, but no one had seen him. You didn’t know whether to be angry, scared, or heartbroken. All you knew was that he wasn’t here, and you were running out of time.

The nurses came and went, offering kind smiles and gentle reassurances, but it wasn’t enough. What you needed—what you wanted—was him, by your side.

You missed his voice, his laugh, the way he’d hold your hand and promise you that everything would be okay. You told yourself that he was out there fighting for you, but as the days stretched on, doubt began to creep in.

In your quieter moments, you wondered if he’d given up on you. If the burden had become too much and he just left without a trace. But deep down, you knew Sang-woo. You knew how much he loved you, how determined he could be. He’d find a way back to you. He had to.

In your final days, you thought about him often. You tried to convince yourself that he had a plan, that he would come rushing through the hospital doors at any moment with that look on his face, telling you everything was going to be okay, that you could heal properly now. But he didn’t.

Instead, you were left with an empty chair by your bedside, your heart aching with the absence of the man you loved more than anything in the world.

On the last night, you couldn’t fight the tears anymore. You whispered into the quiet room—“I just wish you were here.” Your voice cracked, and you closed your eyes, letting the exhaustion finally take over. You dreamed of him one last time—of the way he smiled when you first met, of his hand in yours, of the warmth that had once filled your life.

What you didn’t know—what you couldn’t know—was what Sang-woo was enduring.

He had entered the games through a salesman with a suitcase and a card with a number on the back. The games were a deadly competition where the stakes were higher than anything he’d ever faced. Life and death were decided in brutal, messed up versions of childhood games.

At first, he told himself he was doing it for you, for the money that could save your life. But as the games progressed, as blood stained his hands and the faces of those he’d sacrificed haunted his dreams, the lines began to blur.

How much of himself was he willing to lose to save you?

Every decision, every betrayal he made, weighed on him. He thought of you constantly, your smile a light in the darkness. When he felt the weight of his actions crushing him, he clung to the hope that he could still save you. That he could win, come back to you, and make everything right, no matter how exhausted he was, no matter how much pain he had to endure, it was all for you. Because how could he call himself a man—your man—if he couldn't even keep you by his side? If he couldn't even get the money to save you and have you in his arms again, healthy and full of life?

When Sang-woo finally emerged from the games, clutching the blood money that was counted from each of the lifeless bodies of the other players, he felt hollow. His actions, the lives he’d taken, the people he’d betrayed—all of it threatened to suffocate him. But he pushed it aside. None of it mattered now. All that mattered was you.

He rushed to the hospital, his heart pounding in his chest. He imagined the look on your face when he walked through the door, how you’d smile and tell him that he’d always been your hero. And for the first time since the games, he smiled. He smiled.

But when he reached your room, he froze, and everything inside him seemed to shatter.

You were still, too still. Your chest didn't rise or fall, your lips were pale, and your eyes—those eyes he had loved so much—were closed forever.

The nurse had pity in her eyes as she approached him. "I'm sorry... she passed away a few hours prior. We... we tried calling you, but..."

“No,” he choked out, he staggered to your bedside, falling to his knees onto the mattress of the bed, his hands reaching for you. “No, no, no… please, no…”

He pulled you into his arms, cradling your lifeless body as tears streamed down his face. “Wake up,” he begged, his voice breaking. “Please, wake up. I have the money now. I did it. I got it for you. You can get better now. Please, just… open your eyes.”

But you didn't. You couldn't.

“I got the money,” he whispered, tears falling from his eyes. “I have it. We can pay for your treatment now. You’ll be okay. You’ll be okay…”

Sang-woo's hand trembled as he cupped your face. Your skin was cold to the touch, a stark contrast to the warmth he remembered. He pressed his forehead to yours, the card that contained all the prize money laid forgotten on the floor, a cruel reminder of what he had to sacrifice to save you—of the blood, the death, and the lives he had destroyed in those games. He had told himself it was all for you, that he could endure anything if it meant seeing you smile again. But now, as he held your cold body in his arms, he realized it had all been for nothing.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I’m so, so sorry. I should’ve been here. I should’ve stayed with you. I thought… I thought I could save you.”

He had done everything he could to save you, but in the end, it wasn’t enough. And now, he was left with nothing, because you had been his everything.

[chilkookiepal]

Man In Suits

(Salesman x female!reader)

Summary:: you come across a stranger twice before agreeing to a game , you win big but what of the losses you take at unclarified stakes

warnings ! age gap ,stalking ,manipulation,mentions of married saleman ,detailed smut scenes, violence , there's more to come so i will edit this part<3

MNDI!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

He is a nameless man but he knows you, he did his homework and so he knows all there is to know of you

YN LN

Age 22

Born to immigrant parents with no form of recorded identification, well you technically do but for an adult you are a pathetic case , stuck in a foreign country without a penny to your name, not a polite plan but your useless parents love you , right YN?

no?

Well then , you're fucked

It honestly doesn't matter because you are easily just another piece of disposable trash, a useless gullible thing and a walking target for all that could eat alive a weak thing as yourself but you might have had the angel of luck on your shoulder to have stood in that same store as him on that damned day

it was just something about you , you had too much potential, in fact you were so pathetic he could see you in the game uniform the moment he laid eyes on you , way before even knowing your name but he is and always has been a meticulous character so he stood, patiently, kept his face from recoiling as you nearly got on your knees to beg for the vacant position in a disgusting store without a clue that he was cracking his neck to slap the lights out of the store owner right behind that counter

Is this all you can get for yourself

he judged harshly with a sense of superiority as he observed you already making you a mental profile

He wonders if you even took time to research this sorry excuse of a store in all your desperate glory ,did you know of the two male companions that assisted this sleaze behind the counter in keeping the store dead as it was ,did you know that they could be far worse than the slimy pig who is just dying to fuck you, he tugs at your arm to let out with an even slimier tone

"I will call you on Monday, I promise"

and he winks

that was it ,all it took for you to leave your number there on a piece of paper

he isn't even looking for the fractures in humanity at this point and just like all the people who end up in that dumpsters , you too look like a victim of your own choices ,like trying to mix yourself with low lives who don't even try to hide the fact that they are salivating at the mounds of flesh that spill from the top of your dress

that is where he draws the line between himself and humans , humans like you and them , he is not rooted in excess and somewhere at the core of his values he really believes that his innate human desires do not control him

you have some tricks up your sleeves he will give you that , you really had not notice him stood behind you this entire time and like the user you are you turned to face him , a scowl taking over your features as you bump into him , you take a good look at him ,

Crisp suit and not a hair out of place, he looks put together , far handsome than any man in this hell hole but the briefcase in his hand makes you want to scoff for this particular part of town and you conclude  that the man is probably another pretentious bastard who belongs right where he's shopping ,staring for a second before you are pulled back to reality by the sound of your potential boss' voice telling you to make room for the customer making you mutter a simple sorry as you brush past the man whose face is housing a faux smile

Cold eyes that give nothing at all staying glued to yours , your face and never below your chin , that was easily a new with a man , especially in this part of town but then again he could just be a Jehovah's witness , those can be fun to mind fuck

you sway your hips in a hypnotic manner feeling the store owners eyes on you all the way through that exit , you were pathetic yes , not dumb...you knew that you were never going to get hired and if he called you back he would just be looking to get his dick wet

the patient man ,stood in his suit staring dead into the eyes of the man behind the counter with that faux smile that never meets his eyes, he lays flat a greeting to the man across him commanding the man's attention and when his eyes fall on the man in front of him it takes him a moment to respond but suited man with his practiced smile lays an offer just as the slimy man parts an inch of his mouth to speak

"Would you be interested in playing a game with me ?"

"What..." he scoffs as he puffs out his chest and gives an insulting look that could easily match his follow up words

"sir , a game ?...-''he lays his hand on the surface counter and laughs slightly ridiculed ''do you think this place runs on ''games '', mmhm? whatever makes you think i have the time to play some stu-''

''Seo Davis,''the salesman smiles bringing the man to a halt for a second , he watches him intently and waits for him to get ready to speak again and just like those games he enjoys so well , as  the guy opens is mouth to speak the suited man speaks ''age :42 ,You're drowning in debt... 2.3 million total  with 70 percent of your store losses going to the loan sharks ,and that is not even a brink of your financial problems Mr Seo, Creditors are circling, waiting to pounce.., but ten again by the time they get here this place will be a shell of what it never was -'' he quirks an eyebrow ''you know why? You're already so desperate, paranoid and defensive...'' he laid down his briefcase , clicking it open to the man's eyes '' You'll do whatever it takes to survive''

he can already see it in the man's eyes , the greed unhinged ''So, Mr. Seo, tell me... Are you ready to play a new game? One where the stakes are high, but the rewards are higher?'' with a gulp from the man , he picks the red envelope and the quiet store had for the first time in a while the loudest blend between ddakji slaps and the suited man's firm hand making contact with the store owner's face .

That was a month ago

you never got that call back .

over the course of that and this month you could feel the joys you had for life slip out of you as you sat through another gathering with your moter and the company of friends she kept , you had become another conversation , pitied and reduced to what your peers earned that you didn't , to your beautiful body that didn't necessarily go with your face , to your pickiness that left you single and unmarried for the rest of your life

you hid well , behind scowls and smart emarks back to your critiques but that night you felt crazy , your nails digging into your arm to draw blood and silence the mind , he had to admit , it wasn't easy to track down a person whose last records dated back to when they were just eleven years old , that was when your passport expired and you were still here

stuck in a country that gives you nothing at all

he had no choice but to find you , follow you around , you weren't that hard to tail once he abandoned finding you by the system , he could have found someone to track you for him but he was also always a perfectionist , preffering a certain degree of dilligence , if ou were going to end up in that dumpster he needed to verify that you were truly worthy of the title of honorary trash and that is how his research began , only three days after that store encounter

he had to work a little overtime and even then following you around had come to be the easiest routine he ever had to follow even though it at the cost of his personal fun time usually scheduled at local homeless parks , he didn't mind given thhat so far you hadn't come around dissapointing him

you had been so good for him , so easy to watch in a manner that your routines albeit random became of solace to him to watch you about in your wasted days

he could only trust that you would continue to do right by him and agree him to at least one game because even if you personally don't subscribe to any debt you still suffer the consequences of your parents incompetence

he knows that you know of their pending debts because you still go around getting slapped on the wrist with every chance you manage to drag your pathetic self out of bed , you are a defeated little mess and none of the burdens you carry on your shoulders are really yours , the game didn't discriminate

he studied you to be left with just another predictable case on his hands , he was right about you , he was confident in your potential but he drags a nervous breath as he stalks towards your slumped form in that train station's silver bench, crying

you were crying, good . he wonders if you'd look him in the eyes at least once , he had yet to see your eyes bloodshot and all watery , God , he needs to get a grip

,you don't see him coming , you only look to your left to see a familiar unsettling faux smile of a stranger you couldn't care less of , his signature sly smile reflecting back to you your vulnerability and desperation that he is about to exploit ,despite your attempts to protect yourself with a tough exterior you are surprisingly oblivious to the dangers that linger around you ,him included

he knows he has gotten you when you let that ounce of recognition keep you rooted in your seat with the escape of a sigh that leaves your chapping lipd

"hello miss-''

"No-no-no , I don't want jesus christ , infact if you come across him tell him that I don't want eternal life , I would hate to do this again , let alone forever''

you take a deep breath , closing your eyes briefly after you little melt down

he couldn't care less, you already strike him as an abrupt little thing , your vulnerability does that for you , you are simply defensive , if he had been here for the reasons your impulses accuse of him maybe he would have had to persist harder but then again he has so much better for you , his faux smile deepening as he questions

''are you okay?''

you divert your eyes from him looking at your hands that tremble slightly , he doesn't really like to waste his time but he dangles a tissue in font of you , this one is from the kindness of his heart and he gives you the time to collect yourself before laying out the big apple in that low smooth tone that should aid you in trusting him

"would you like to take a break from your worries and play a little game with me ? ''

''game?''

the briefcase clicks open the same time as you whip your head towards him ,a briefcase you have held at such harsh judgements laid open before you , a neatly organised compartment consisting of two square , envelopes? blue and red , cash , loads of cash...you should be excited , intrigued at the sight of the cash but just below it stares back at you a revolver , loud and shiny

when your glossy eyes go to meet the suit man your nose unintentionally scrunches at that casual smile of his , unsettling as ever as he speaks ''you could win really big and do away with your family debt in just three games , Miss YN-shii'' the man operates at such a natural robotic pace which just poses another blazing red flag in your interaction ,you know better than to indulge this stranger , nothing of him calls you to trust him but it's at the back of your mind that he made use of your name when he lays open between you two that briefcase of his , you proceed to ask gulping hard at the stacks of cash

''what kind of game?''

he smiles smugly holding two colored envelopes between his nimble fingers

''amongst these two envelopes , one contain the precise amount of the money owed by your parents and the other contains a penalty ,which one do you choose Miss YN?''

I haven't agreed to playing yet-

the thought is far from finished when he notes to you that time is ticking and you fold so sweetly under pressure , the meek little thing you are , ocd and eager to please would be caught dead before ever missing a deadline let alone disappoint anyone at all and so the salesman pouts

you are impulsive under pressure , you note as your hand flies to the blue envelope , it's bright that's your humble reason as the man's eyebrow shoots up , unreadable prompting a sight out of you as you await promised penalty while he opens the envelope

''oh -"

"what's the penalty " you ask voice barely above a whisper

the man's smile grows wider as he reveals to you a small paper that has you rolling your eyes

"Seems like you have won temporary reprieve Miss Yn, penalty has been reprieved...for now, you are left with two chances "

the envelopes change and you pick again, blue again and you honestly don't know what you are still doing here but perhaps you are at your wits end with all the doors shut to your face, you throw caution to the wind as you recall being rejected at a local strip club , they were blunt telling you that you were not what the locals pay to see , you scoffed and you have zoned out

The mans face turns serious and, you look angry , almost missing out on the fact that you won

"Congratulations Miss Yn ," in your face is a card written exactly 800k won and a bank card attached at the back, there is a crease in your eyebrows , questions swim there, doubt and suspicion too

"how do I know that you are mot just bullshitting me  , what if none of this works?"

he slides a card towards you , triangle, circle, square and a phone number printed on the back

It's strange, too easy and you don't believe in angels or easy luck not for you, especially not for you of all people

"I give you 24 hours to bask in your victory Miss Yn, the details of your penalty remain on hold until then"

you are confused , cat really got your tongue and you stay puzzled even as the man bids you farewell

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ + _ _ _ _ _ _ + _ _ _ _ _ +-------+_ _ _ _+-------+_ _ _ _ _

you had clutched tight the envelope from the strange man for the rest of that night , barely slept a wink looking him up on the internet , it had started with the card of shaped symbols which lead you to preschool stuff , you so badly wanted to believe that maybe he was a preschool teacher but your wide awake senses rejected the idea so greatly your nose bled at 2am in the darkness

, you tried with the number as you further spiraled into desperation....NOTHING. When the morning came your feet carried you back to that train station , you occupied the very same seat as you had that day , you waited before you were seeking him , trails that lead you back to that store , or what you think to once have been a store , ashes and broken glass residing there, you seeked your surroundings for a strange yet familiar face until a part of you is convinced that he is just a fragment of your imagination , a byproduct of the immense stress and disappointment of you daily life

you wander and wander until you are stood in front of an atm , fucking around to find out , and find out you did.

your father's bank balance reflected back at you sums and amounts you would never even dream of ,800k as the man had said and you still couldn't believe it.

you could have just enjoyed it but you wanted the catch , a fault , anything to tell you that you were deluded,

you went home , you often thought about what you'd say you to your parents who sheltered you with all they could manage as you entered the threshold of your home , a tought that goes away as soon as you meet the joyed expression of your father who is somehow confident that he won a quarter of the lottery , he wasn't far off as it all felt surreal only , as he showed you a dramatic text from an unsaved contact

congratulations mr LN on your lottery win of 800k , your victory has been deposited into your account , enjoy~!!

you felt scared , you wondered if you had been baited to some illegal scheme that could lend not you but your father in prison

you prayed not as you went from confused to making excuses to deciding that you needed to contact the suit man , you dialed quickly the number on the card , it rang before a feminine voice greeted on the other side "hello, who's this?"

the crease of your eyebrows could only get deeper as you frowned

"Hello , may I please talk to the man...''you cringed at your tone and the ridiculousness of the situation , the realisation that you didn't even know his name ,''he wears suits and carries around a briefcase-" beep

the line disconnects before you are done and you try the call again, double checking each digit before pressing call , this time the woman get's to talk before you do

"I will pull your tongue out and wrap it around your neck until you die if you ever call my husband again.''

she didn't even wait for your response before cutting off the line

third time is a charm , you seem to be blocked as you are immediately rejected before calling it a day , not entirely though given that your desperation was venturing on the lines of paranoia ,it was a joyful day in your home , your father still convinced that he won the lottery which meant that you got no thanks at all for your efforts , not to be mistaken , you appreciated the heat of having to explain yourself or the mysterious money being removed off your shoulders but a teeny tiny list of reasons overwhelm you , for starters...was it a coincidence that the money had gotten to your father as a simple run into the luck of lottery, your efforts entirely discarded , you technically didn't have to do much for the money which is what posses the biggest threat to you right now , despite wanting to tell yourself that you won this money fair and square the rationed part of yourself cannot simply accept that life would just be so...giving? to you of all people...what was all tat about a pending penalty?

it's nearly 24hrs since  you last came across that man,' would he have shown up if you hadn't gone to the bank ?

a lot of things were unclear as you laid awake for the second night in a row ,you needed answers that the chat assistant in your pocket could not answer , and so you slipped on your  pair of slippers  , you just wanted to clear your head and that path lead you to the opposite end of the subway from where you sat yesterday , even at these late hours exhausted people occupy the place , probably people with jobs to return from, you wonder if some may even be going to thier jobs and somewhere between your thoughts you get lost, your fingers becoming the object of your focus on your lap amidst the quiet noise of a busy station

you are strangely calmed by the waves of trains and the chaos of your mind is muted until the waves are blending with something else , clapping?

You lift up your eyes and you don't have to search far because right across you through the windows of a train stands a confident suited man who throws a familiar red envelope to the ground, you quickly realise that he is flipping the blue envelope on the ground before proceeding to slap the man across him, hard and fast

It's natural that your eyebrows crease as the man is handed some cash before the suit man is leaving up the stairs

you are even more skeptical of him but you still run after him as soon as the train departs and you risk your life with the hopes of possibly getting some questions answered

It's not really a surprise by the time you reach the stairs there is absolutely no one but you keep going, in your head you think you will just run into him and the idea makes your palms sweaty. The man carries a gun, he slaps people and.. -he's turning a corner down the sketchy passage

every part of you, rational is screaming at you but your feet still work very fine so you jog after him, he must have impaired hearing because you heave painfully and your slippers basically slap the ground beneath your feet loud enough to reach him, as you reach the corner you scan briefly before he's right there, he suddenly appears in front of you under the flickering exhausted lights and the familiar scent of his expensive cologne overwhelms your senses

at the first eye contact you make with the man you bow your head , contemplating your decision to case after him , you hadn't even prepared a what you would say to him and now all your senses were screaming at you to turn back

you have to talk yourself into staying rooted as he takes slow steps towards you ,the distance between you two is becoming smaller by the minute and you are actually getting scared because because the summer rain hits you without warning and his faux smile is nowhere to be seen tonight in place of his faux smile is a darkness occupying his eyes

you don't know if it could save your life but you bow and issue out a greeting

he does take a halt ,right in front of you , you are preparing your next words when he reaches for your cheek ,eyes deep and set on yours as he slowly backs you against the wall , the pad of his thumb caresses the area and you are highly aware of him and everything around him

you wonder if you look as brave as you intend to present to te man in front of you getting on your tippy toes to glance behind him and letting the fact that it's only the two of you here sink just as you decide that you are allergic to silence , the one he is presenting to you anyway

"do you live around here , ajushi?'' you continue to avoid his eyes looking around the area just to distract yourself from the fear bubbling beneath the surface

"I don't''

he doesn't beat around the bush as he pops out the biggest question

"why are you following me? YN"

the hand on your cheek trails slowly down until i's at your neck where his rough thumb massages in meditated motions on the column of your throat ,

''I wasn't-'' the hold on your neck turns not so gentle yet not enough to disrupt your breathing pattern , it's a warning just as the words that follow up

''I have an idea , you answer my questions , for every answer that I don't like i add pressure to your precious little neck

-with that , be mindful of what you answer miss yn, '' he loosens his hold slightly finally flashing you a formal smile , nowhere near friendly even with his full set of teeth on display

''so Miss YN , have you been following me?"

his eyebrows shoot up in an expression that makes you think for a second that he is actually adorable , only the hand on your neck makes you start talking

"'I tried to call you ,on the number you gave me but a woman answered and told me that I would be dead if I ever called her husband again"

he hums just as his hand tightens , you can for a second taste the faux courage exit you system as you try to gulp down the sheer panic bubbling up

he shakes his hand side to side ''that just won't do YN-

why are you following me ?''

''I wanted to thank you , my father recieved the money but I couldn't find you anywhere so I went to the train station for some air and then i saw you- you can't stop there ,he is so close to cutting your air flow

''I wanted to talk to you and ask about the penalty and why my father is convinced that he won the lottery , you walked too fast and I couldn't call you so I ran , I didn't mean to follow you''

you did it again , your frustrated meltdown thing and now you were crying , he should feel sympathy

but fuck you look far better than he imagined you would with your eyes all watery ,he's pushing and at the sight of your hands shooting up to where he clutches your neck adding pressure by the passing second you become quite aware of the nearest news headline

"woman , 22 found in the nearest ditch-''

"would you like to come with me or return home to live in the devastating shadow of the peanuts that your brother earns , hmm YN?''

he let's go of you and you cough violently shooting a glare in his direction as he reaches a hand towards your face swiping a tear before sucking the section of the thumb

you shake your head no and you expect him to be...well.. himself about the matter but he simply turns away to leave you in the pouring rain teeth chattering , you are not even sure where you are so you do the next dumbest thing , block his path

"t-t-take me - with you''.

[lihhelsing]

steddie | 1.6k | mature | angst

cw: mentions of parental abuse (verbal)

written for @steddieangstyaugust day 21

Prompt: Please

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The second Eddie steps into the kitchen, he knows something is wrong. 

Steve always says he doesn't mind doing the dishes and Eddie has given up on arguing with him about it long ago.

He watches as his boyfriend stands in front of the sink. On any day, he would find Steve whistling to some pop song, swaying his hips to whatever rhythm he has in his head as he soaps up their dishes. 

He's usually happy when he does it. Tells Eddie it always helps. And Eddie can't quite put his finger on what's wrong but he's definitely not happy. 

Eddie walks up to him slowly, and once he's a little closer he can see Steve's shoulders shaking. It's barely there and Eddie is unsure what to do, but when he reaches his hand and touches Steve, he knows that's the wrong choice.

Steve recoils, dropping whatever he was holding in his hand with a loud noise inside the sink and Eddie pulls back.

He's not sure what's happening, but he doesn't like it one bit. 

"Hey, hey. Steve. Look at me. What's wrong baby? 

Steve turns to him and his face is red and wet from the tears spilling down. Eddie feels his inside twisting, and his mind goes straight to Dustin and the kids. 

Something happened to them, and somehow Steve knows it and-

"P-please," Steve says, so fucking small. "Please, don't be mad."

Eddie frowns, his brain scrambling to catch up. 

"Why would I be mad?" 

At first, it seems like Steve's not going to say anything but then he moves to the side and Eddie sees the sink. 

The sink is a mess. And Steve is usually a neat guy so it takes Eddie one second to adjust. And then, he sees the blood.

It's not a lot of blood, but it's definitely blood. Eddie tries not to freak out because he knows it'll only make it worse

"What happened, sweetheart?" Usually, Steve loves when Eddie uses pet names, but today? Today he almost folds in on himself.

"I broke a-a mug," Steve says and Eddie has to hold himself together, afraid of hurting his feelings with the tiniest reaction.

"That's... ok," Eddie says, hoping that's the right answer. Steve doesn't relax but he also doesn't get worse, so he counts that as a win.

"No, Eddie. I broke a mug. And it's your favorite," Steve says and Eddie nods softly.

"Is it the Garfield one?" Eddie asks and Steve's eyes widen. He nods, doesn't meet his eyes. 

Eddie actually dislikes that mug. It was his father's and he felt obliged to keep it, but he kept hoping it would break. Nothing against Garfield, but he would much rather not have anything to remember his father by. 

"Well," Eddie looks at the sink, "I'll clean it. And you can go sit in the living room and I'll be there in a second to patch you up." 

Steve doesn't move. He just shakes his head and Eddie is a little lost. Maybe his hand is hurting so he tries to grab it but Steve flinches, back hitting the sink and making a pan slide down. 

"Baby, what... what is it?" Eddie asks. He's at a loss here and has no idea what to do. If nothing works, he'll have to call Robin because Steve is clearly about to have a breakdown.

"You're mad," Steve says. And... no. Eddie's not mad. Why would he be mad over a dumb mug? Even if it was his favorite, Eddie wouldn’t be made. Accidents happen and he’s honestly more worried that Steve is hurt than anything else.

"I'm not, Stevie,” he tries to sound sincere, but it’s like Steve has checked out of their conversation. Like he’s lost inside his own head.

"I broke your favorite mug. I made a... a mess. But I'm gonna clean it up." 

Eddie shakes his head. "You'll do no such thing. You're gonna go to the living room and you're gonna let me clean it. And then you’re going to wait for me because I need to take a look at your hand, need to make sure it’s just a superficial cut."

Eddie moves again and Steve freezes. 

"No! I'm gonna clean it," he says and Eddie is starting to get tired. He wants to fix it, he wants to help Steve, but he’s not sure how. 

There’s a little voice inside his head that tells him this is not about this particular mug on this particular day. Eddie likes to think he’s a nice boyfriend. Treats Steve well. Because he does. Never did anything to make Steve think he would be mad over a broken mug and definitely wouldn’t be mad about any mess. 

Everyone knows Steve is the one putting up with Eddie’s messy ass. 

Then, like a lightning bulb, something clicks, and Eddie decides to try something. 

"Steve," he says, voice stern, and Steve looks like he was expecting it. "Go to the living room. Right now. I'll be there in a second." 

Eddie hates the way his voice sounds. He’s not being rude, just a little more firm than he would usually be with Steve. 

Steve likes soft and sweet. But this seems to do the trick. He watches as Steve’s eyes fall to the ground with a small nod and then he walks away, pressing his hands together to keep the blood from dripping everywhere.

He sighs. He feels so out of his depth right now it's not even funny. He wants to call Buckley and ask her what she thinks, but he can’t right now. Steve would definitely hear it and that wouldn’t end up well. 

Eddie gets to cleaning. He collects the broken pieces and feels like the mug is mocking him, telling him how dumb and useless he is. Can’t even help his boyfriend.

He’s not in any rush. Feels like Steve could use the quiet time to calm down. To maybe tell Eddie what’s happening and then Eddie will fix it.

But that’s not what happens.

Steve is sitting on the couch, head low as he clutches his hand. His sweatpants are stained with blood and Eddie knows he'll have to ask Wayne how to clean them. 

"Steve," he says softly but even that makes him jump. He looks up at him and his eyes are glassy and distant. Eddie fucking hates it.

"I'm sorry," he says again and Eddie sighs. He doesn't know what's happening but he has a hunch and he's going to go with it. 

"It's ok. It was an accident," he says and he can see Steve shaking his head. "Stop. I'm talking now." 

Eddie's voice is calm but firm and Steve just nods, sniffling. 

"I wouldn't lie to you, would I?" Eddie asks.

Steve shakes his head. That's not enough. 

"Words, Steve. Would I lie to you?" 

"N-no," Steve says and Eddie offers him the hint of a smile. 

"Right. So, I'm not mad that you broke the mug, ok?" 

Steve nods. "Ok."

"I am mad, though," Eddie starts and he sees fear in Steve's eyes. His insides twist. He's either going to nail this or ruin his relationship. "That you hurt yourself and didn't call for me. Why didn't you call me for, Stevie?"

He says the last part a little softer. Steve's eyes are on him and this is it. Either he cracks him or fucks this up completely. 

"I... didn't want you to be mad," he says. 

"Because of the mug?" 

"Y-yeah," Steve's voice shakes and Eddie takes a step forward. "I didn't mean to, it slipped from my hand and broke, and I thought you would be mad." 

"Baby," Eddie says. It's hard to keep his stance. He wants to hold Steve and kiss him and promise him things are ok, but he needs Steve to see it first. "I wouldn't. I couldn't. You know that, don't you?" 

Steve doesn't seem sure but he nods. And it’s after a long sigh that he keeps talking, "my... dad.  He always got mad. Always yelled at me and called me stupid." 

Eddie sighs. Bingo. 

"I'm not your dad though, am I?" 

"N-no."

"Who am I?" Eddie asks and Steve looks at him and his face finally softens. 

"You're Eddie. My... boyfriend" 

Eddie smiles. "Yeah, I am. And I don't get mad, do I?"

"Only..." Steve says. He looks like a kid, afraid to get the answer wrong. "Only if I hurt myself and don't call you." 

Eddie feels his chest filling up with pride. He nods, takes a step forward, and puts his hand on Steve's face. 

"Yeah. That's right. Because it's ok to ask for help. I'll always help you, ok? I'll always take care of you, Stevie. And I'll never get mad at something like this, ok?" 

Steve's eyes flutter shut. He's calmer now. He nods and nuzzles Eddie's hand. 

"Ok, Eddie. Thank... thank you." 

Eddie caresses his face. "You're welcome, sweetheart. I got you, ok? Can I clean you up?" 

Steve nods. "Please."

God. Eddie's heart is in pieces right now. He's so sad and so angry at the same time. He wants to storm into the Harrington's house and beat the shit out of Richard Harrington. 

He remembers seeing Steve walking around in school. Hidden bruises that no one seemed to notice. But Eddie did. 

He's going to kill that motherfucker.

But not right now. 

Right now he's going to take Steve to the bathroom in their tiny apartment. And he's going to clean him up and patch his cut. And he's going to take him to bed, to cuddle him and whisper in his hair how much he loves him. 

How he's the best thing that has ever happened to him. How Steve makes him so, so happy. How he wants to spend the rest of his life with him. 

But tomorrow? Tomorrow he's going to make sure no one hurts Steve ever again. 

[queensunshinee]

His favorite toy- Part 3 || Art Donaldson x reader

Word Count: 3.5k

(Part 1) (Part 2)

His favorit toy- Part 3:

Art regretted few things in his life. He regretted the number of times he ignored his grandmother's calls or told her he was in a hurry when, in reality, he didn’t have any special plans. It was rude and ungrateful toward a woman who genuinely loved and cared for him, something he couldn’t always confidently say about his parents. He regretted the fact that he lost to Patrick in the Juniors US Open final nearly a year ago, which changed the entire dynamic between them. More than the loss itself, Patrick won and claimed the ultimate prize- Tashi Duncan. Tashi Duncan, the talented, the perfect one. The one who was going to change the world of tennis as they knew it. And Patrick Zweig is fucking her. Art certainly regretted that. The tragic consequence of Patrick and Tashi’s relationship- Art was left alone. He didn’t realize how much of his life revolved around Patrick until their paths diverged. Patrick decided to be Patrick and try his luck as a pro; Art decided to go to college. And he thought that the fact he and Tashi were at the same college would give him a relative advantage, something to hold onto. Something stronger than winning a stupid tennis match. But not for Tashi Duncan. For her, a win is a win, and a loss is a loss, and they always come hand in hand. Tied up with a black ribbon, rubbing salt in his wounds. He hates losing. Being sidelined. He regretted every moment that led to the point where his best friend and the girl the entire universe revolved around, treated him like a charity case. Like he needed to be taken out for a walk before bed whenever Patrick came to visit, so he wouldn’t feel neglected. Fuck it. And fuck them.

Art regretted the day he met you. The time when he came late to the lecture, and you were sitting in the corner, relatively in the back. The first thing that stood out were your glasses, which complemented your delicate face, smiling at him with the shyest smile he’d probably ever encountered. He regretted the feeling that filled him and hasn’t left him since, the desire that you’d never smile at him like that again. He regretted the urge to tell you a joke, to see what you looked like when you laughed. To feel pride because he was the one who made you laugh. He wasn’t the funniest or most charismatic guy in the room—that was always Patrick. But you laughed. And he was right; your real smile, with teeth, was mesmerizing. He regretted how he acted with you. He wanted you to develop some character. Not to be a pushover, certainly not because of him. He loved the power he had and simultaneously hated it. He loved knowing exactly what you were thinking the moment you thought it. Everything seemed to be written on your face, like a superpower he had only with you. He’s a worse person for letting it spread like ivy on a building. So beautiful, but useless. Wrapping around him from all sides until he was choking.

He regretted not treating you the way one should treat a protected flower. To watch from the side and not pick. To watch from the side and not touch. To watch from the side and not ruin. He regretted it because, usually, his impulse was to touch, hurt, and destroy—and for some reason, only with you. Only because you smiled with your teeth and bought him coffee without him asking, because you remembered his order, because you let him use a free smoothie you were supposed to get during your shift, because you tried to teach him statistics in the sexiest way anyone has ever explained averages. Patrick always said that the most delicate and quiet girls are the sexiest, and Art always thought it was bullshit, because what’s sexy about silence? What’s sexy about calmness, and what’s sexy about insecurity? But then you came along. And he regretted that you got the chance to prove him wrong. And wrong again. And again.

And he’ll never tell you, but he woke up early and stared at you sleeping for the last ten minutes, maybe for the last hour, maybe he's been lying next to you for a month already, looking at your face. If you had woken up suddenly, you would have seen the regret smeared across his face like a badge of shame that would never give him peace. He couldn’t believe how many times he had stopped himself when he could have woken up like this, with you breathing deeply, clinging to his arm, completely carefree. The desire to let you keep sleeping turned into a need to touch you, to feel your face under his fingers. If he could, he would tuck you into his back pocket, tie you to a keychain, weave you into a necklace. And his hand gently brushed your cheek, part of him trying to wake you. To poke the bear. The bear that still doesn’t trust him. He knows his place now, he knows that trust is a complicated feeling, and that he hasn’t done anything to earn it. He knows he took and took and took, and even when he clearly saw you had nothing left to give, he knew he could still take more.

"Morning..." Your voice was hoarse from sleep as you blinked in his direction. He needed to get used to this. To learn new things about you. He didn’t think there were more things to learn. He was afraid to know more than necessary—more than what was needed to make the sex good. The sex had been good for a long time. He knew everything he needed for that. He knew your favorite position, knew where to kiss and where to bite, and where his tongue could do the work. He didn’t know that you rubbed your hand on your nose the second you woke up. He didn’t know what your voice sounded like before you had your first coffee. He didn’t know your eyes had a slightly different shade in the morning.

"Hey," his hand, which had been tracing odd shapes on your face, now gently tucked your hair behind your ear. "How do you feel?" he asked, trying to remember the last time he felt such an intense need to be gentle. The thought that you could break in his hands, like an irreplaceable porcelain vase, sent a shiver down his spine. How had he managed to suppress all of this until two days ago? How had he managed to push you into such a distant drawer? To believe that it was just sex. He had even imagined you with other men, sharing experiences with other people. Kissing someone else. Moaning someone else's name. He didn’t think anyone could say his name more beautifully than you did.

"I'm okay. Maybe I had a migraine? I thought I was coming down with something, but I probably exaggerated. I’m sorry you didn’t go home, I feel guilty." Your voice hadn’t fully steadied, but you looked at him with big doe eyes, and all he could do was smile.

"Don’t..." He lowered his head slightly on the awful bed you were sleeping on and looked at you at eye level. His nose brushed against yours in small movements as his hand settled on your waist. "Patrick and Tashi are here too. She has a match tomorrow, so I’ll get to see it." He said, seeing you nod, but something in your body language became tense. "I promised Patrick I’d have breakfast with him, is that okay?" he asked.

"You don’t need my permission to have breakfast with a friend, Art," you said, rolling your eyes, clearly unhappy with the question. In response, he chuckled and gave you a quick kiss on the lips, causing you to pull back almost reflexively. "I haven’t brushed my teeth, Donaldson, and I think we’ve slept for 24 hours."

"Are you implying I smell bad?" Art looked at you with amusement. "You have no idea how bad I smell," you declared, not breaking the playful gaze, as if issuing a new challenge. "So you don’t always smell like peaches? Disappointing. Makes me reconsider everything," he feigned surprise while standing up and quickly getting dressed. "I’ll see you later, Peaches? There's a party tonight, kind of a farewell thing for those still here and not planning to go home. Patrick will come too. It'll be fun," he stated, leaving you no choice as he walked out of the room before you could resist, like he knew you would.

'Wear the sexy dress.' -A- He didn’t wait long to send you that. . . . "So," Patrick looked smug as Art approached the cafeteria. "Anything you want to tell me?" he asked with a half-smile. "No, not exactly." Art sat down next to him with his tray, causing Patrick to roll his eyes. "Where did you sleep last night?" Patrick asked. "You slept at Tashi's," Art responded. "I know where I slept. Where did you sleep?" Patrick was starting to lose patience, not enjoying the fact that there was a whole part of Art's life he didn't know much about. "On a bed," Art said, taking the first sip of his coffee. "You're pretty pleased with yourself, huh? Tell me about the cheerleader, come on," Patrick laughed, unable to ignore the question lingering between them. "Cheerleader?" Art asked, raising an eyebrow.

"She knows nothing about tennis," Patrick stated. "Not everyone knows everything about tennis," Art shot back, looking at his best friend, who was so curious and yet so clueless. Something in Art knew that once Patrick saw you, he wouldn’t be able to let it go. He knew you were exactly what Patrick once wanted, before he met Tashi. And that wasn't why Art was interested in you. That wasn't why Art wanted to make you laugh and orbit around him. It was a nice bonus though. Patrick's curiosity and his need to be a part of everything were always a bonus. "What does she know?" Patrick asked, taking a bite of a sugary roll, managing to get sugar in his hair, which made Art reach out to wipe it off his cheek. Art just bit his lip for a moment and took another sip of coffee.

"You're evil," Patrick declared. He wanted details, and he wanted them now. "Let's just say all your theories about 'good girls' are right," Art said, unable to hold back when he saw Patrick's expression. He was gaping, unable to believe Art had what it took to get a girl like you. "What did she see in you?" Patrick asked. He didn’t mean it to sound mean, but he couldn't understand how someone who was embarrassed to look him in the eye during a tennis match could be with someone like Art. How could she even communicate with him? "I'm a catch," Art rolled his eyes. "A catch of diseases, maybe. I'm serious, Donaldson. Are you in a relationship with her? Should I start saving for the wedding?" he asked. He didn’t want the dry details of how they met. He didn’t want to know the whole history of their relationship. Patrick wanted to know if Art was fucking you. Art knew it, Patrick knew it. He wanted the sign he once gave Art about Tashi. He wanted to know if there was someone new he'd have to fight for Art's attention.

"She's a good friend," Art mumbled. He didn’t know how much he wanted to reveal you to Patrick. How much he wanted you in his best friend's head. Because he knew that if he exaggerated the details, if he told everything he could, Patrick would find a way to ruin it. Not out of malice. Out of pure selfishness. Out of the need to be number one in everyone's priorities. He'd find a way to take this thing Art had, that was just his, and destroy it. "A good friend you sometimes fuck," Patrick said, unable to hide his smile, causing Art to shake his head. "A good friend who's a good friend. She’ll be at the party tonight, so behave like a human," he said, giving Patrick a sharp look. One that didn’t leave room for jokes. "Maybe you should tell Tashi not to call her 'Stats Girl.' I don’t think she liked that," Patrick said in response, raising his hands in fake surrender. "She called her that?" Art looked horrified. "She's not a good cheerleader," Patrick mumbled, looking back at Art. He wasn’t afraid of the little challenge in this staring match. "She left in the middle of your match," he concluded. "Not everyone has to love tennis," Art replied, defensive. "True, but you love tennis," Patrick said, taking the last bite of the roll. Art didn’t wipe the sugar out of his hair this time. He didn’t care anymore. . . . I didn’t wear the dress Art told me to wear. Because, well, it’s Janet’s dress. I wore a different one, simpler but still revealing. Enough cleavage and thighs to define it as revealing, and to define me as someone who feels uncomfortable. At 9, Art still wasn’t in my room, and at 9:15, he texted me which building the party was in and said he was already there. That I should come. So casually. When I arrived, the place was surprisingly packed with people, considering most of the students were supposed to have already gone home. Someone passed by and burped, making me cringe and step away, trying to find Art among the crowd.

‘Where are you?’ –(Y/N)–

A few minutes passed, and he didn’t answer, so I found a corner free of people making out and stood close to the wall, scanning the room. “He’s with Tashi,” the half-familiar voice of one of Art’s friends sounded beside me. “Excuse me?” I mumbled, trying not to stare at the guy leaning against the wall, almost mirroring my movement. “He’s outside, talking to Tashi about her match tomorrow. You know, tennis,” he answered, and for once, I actually looked at him. His dark curls were the antithesis of Art Donaldson’s, but the smug smile, the one that knew secrets and wasn’t ready to share them with me, was almost identical. “Okay?” It was more of a question than an answer. I didn’t understand why he was telling me this. I didn’t understand the point of burdening me with this information.

“I asked him why we didn’t pick you up before the party, so you’d come with us too,” he spoke as if he were telling a bedtime story to a three-year-old, as if there was a moral to every sentence that came out of his mouth. As if I needed to listen and decode metaphors now, learning life anew from someone whose last name I didn’t even know. “Did he have an interesting answer?” I asked, not taking my eyes off him. “He said you two arranged to meet here,” Patrick replied. “Well, Pete,” we both knew I remembered his name, that I was trying to maintain some semblance of power even though the balance was currently against me, “he didn’t lie, if that’s what’s bothering you,” I rolled my eyes. And no, Art hadn’t said he’d pick me up, and we’d go to the party together, but I hadn’t even wanted to come. I’d have preferred to be in my dorm right now, working on my assignment or reading a book. I would have preferred not to see familiar but foreign faces, not to watch people making out in front of everyone and drinking themselves senseless.

“It’s Patrick,” he corrected me despite everything, “are you dating him?” he asked, his gaze fixed on my profile because I had stopped looking at him, trying to focus on everything around me instead. And I couldn’t say it was dating, because yesterday was the first time he suddenly decided I was important enough to call me 'girlfriend.' Important enough to treat me like a person and not like something that belonged to him, something he bought without spending much. “Why do you ask?” I answered with a question, because that was the only answer I had to offer. “Want something to drink?” he chuckled. Who chuckles these days? Why does he sound exactly like Art?! “No, I need to get up early tomorrow,” I replied. “One glass?” he insisted, closer to my ear now because the music was loud. “Okay,” I shrugged, not fully understanding the nature of this interaction or where Art was and why he told me to come to this stupid party if he had no intention of even saying hello.

Patrick came back with two red cups and handed me one. He tried to talk to me, but all I could do was stare at the entrance until Art walked in, deeply engaged in conversation with Tashi, not even bothering to look up to search for me. “I need to get up early tomorrow,” I mumbled suddenly, cutting Patrick off in the middle of explaining something about his tour and why he wasn’t in college because he decided to go pro. “It was nice talking to you,” I smiled the most genuine smile I could muster at that moment and peeled myself off the wall.

“He’ll always do this, you know that, right?” Patrick suddenly said. And there was a knowing look in his eyes and a serious expression, as much as he could muster. “Excuse me?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “He’ll always choose Tashi,” Patrick declared. “Isn’t she your girlfriend or something?” I asked, feeling my jaw tighten. I didn’t have to be nice to this guy. He was Art’s friend, not mine. Aside from offering me a drink, he hadn’t tried to be nice to me. In fact, in every opportunity he had over the last two days, he had been rude. “It was nice meeting you, cheerleader,” he concluded and walked toward Art, as if leaving me behind.

I felt the tightness taking over me. I took advantage of the fact that Art was no longer near the door to slip out of the party, allowing myself to let the tears fall on the way. “Hey, hey, Peaches. Wait a sec,” his voice sounded from afar, and I knew from the tone that he was panicking, that he realized too late what the situation was. “Are you getting off on humiliating me?” I asked, turning to face him. “I mean, what the hell did I ever do to you? What did I do besides love you that makes you treat me like this?!” My voice was mixed with sobs I was ashamed of. They broadcast weakness more than anything else. Art stood there, slightly open-mouthed. His eyes were glazed over and red from alcohol. “I, I was just talking to friends—” he started. “Why did you ask me to come to this party?” I asked, sniffling a little. “Because I wanted to spend some time with you, show you off,” he got closer to me, his hands finding their way to my cheeks, as if that were their natural place while his forehead pressed against mine, not taking his eyes off my face. “Yeah? How’s that going so far? Because in the hour I’ve been here, you didn’t even think it necessary to respond to my text.” I gently moved his hands off me and took a step back.

“I—” “You what? You’re going to keep trying to convince me I’m important? That you love me? That you talk about me with your grandma, and then treat me like I’m some old shirt you bought at a second-hand store and will throw away in two days?” I asked. “What the hell do you want from me, Art? Why won’t you just let me move on?” It was desperate. “Because I can’t. The thought of you moving on scares me,” he mumbled to himself. “It’s not my fault she doesn’t love you,” I said, wiping my tears. “You don’t have to make me feel like she makes you feel.” I looked at him, almost pleading. “You’re exaggera—” “I wore a nice dress. I came to a party I didn’t want to come to. I stood in a corner for an hour with your rude friend. While you were outside with someone you care about more than me, someone whose company matters more to you than mine. And that’s totally fine. Just let me go already,” I said firmly. . . . And as he watched you walk away, he realized exactly what he had lost. And he doesn’t know if it’s love, but he felt the pain in his bones. And if there’s one thing Art Donaldson is sure of, it’s that you deserve better.

Hi there, how are we all doing? This part was more chill on the smut stuff (sorry) but had more Patrick in it, and we got more of Art's pov. Tell me what you guys think. I still don't know if it's the end of the story. I think it might be. Maybe it's time to move on to other ideas and take some requests. I don't know yet. Feel like it's the end for these two. Anyway, tell me what you think. Hearing from you guys is always the best part <3

taglist: @lalalandofive @wild-rose-35 @theynothem @angelism13

[kikyoupdates]

Otherworldly Attraction ⭑˚🔮⭑ 𝑠𝑒𝑡 𝑖𝑛 𝑚𝑜𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛

yandere!jjk x f!reader

yandere, reverse harem, isekai, jujutsu kaisen x fem!reader, slowburn, slowburn yandere

You don't know how or why, but you've been isekai'd into the world of Jujutsu Kaisen. Although your first instinct is to stay away from the plot, you've been blessed with an abnormal amount of cursed energy, and for better or worse, you find yourself sucked into the storyline. You decide that you may as well use your newfound powers for the greater good, and if you're lucky, you might succeed in rewriting some of the characters' fates. But it turns out that your presence in this world is an even bigger deal than you first thought, and soon, everyone wants to make you theirs.

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“Draw two,” Sasaki says. 

“I’ll add another draw two. So now [Name] has to draw four,” Iguchi follows up, throwing another card onto the pile.

You stare at the two cards left in your hand, and then you cast a glance beside you, over to poor Itadori, who’s easily holding more than ten. Part of you wonders if you should be nice and spare him, since he’s clearly suffering more than enough already, but then again, this is Uno. 

Uno is just about as cutthroat as it gets. 

“Sorry,” you mumble, wincing a bit as you add another card onto the pile. “I still have a draw four card left… which means Itadori has to pick up eight cards in total. Also, um, Uno.” 

“No way!” he cries out, and you swear you see his soul leave his body. 

Sasaki throws her head back and starts laughing. “Man, Itadori, you stink at this! I swear you’ve placed last every single time we’ve played. It’s actually kind of impressive how unlucky you can be sometimes.”

“I haven’t lost yet,” Itadori stubbornly refutes, but of course, within the next round, you win, and Sasaki and Iguchi quickly follow suit. 

You watch as Itadori’s shoulders slump in defeat. 

“Fine, now I lost,” he sighs. Most people would probably be pretty frustrated seeing as he’s lost more than four—or is it five games in a row now? In any case, Uno tends to ruin friendships and drive people insane, but since this is Itadori, it only takes a few brief moments of adorable sulking for him to perk up again. “Alright, well, I’m ready for the next round!” 

Iguchi shakes his head. “Sorry, but no more. I’m starting to feel bad about beating you this badly.” 

“Really?” Sasaki blinks. “I’m having the time of my life.” 

“You don’t always have to voice your intrusive thoughts aloud, Sasaki.” 

“We can play more next time,” you say, gently patting Itadori on the shoulder. “And I’m sure you’ll win a bunch then. Enough to make up for all the losses from today.” 

“Doubt it,” Sasaki muses. 

“Sasaki, that’s seriously enough out of you,” Iguchi sighs.

“Alright, fine,” Itadori relents. He quickly glances towards the clock on the wall. “I guess it’s about time for me to head out anyway. It’d be nice to get to the hospital early for a change.” 

More than a week has passed since you first awoke in this world, and during that time, you’ve spent pretty much every day hanging out with Itadori. It’s quite literally a dream come to true to be able to talk to him like this. From the moment you discovered you attended the same school, you were already starstruck, but you figured you would only ever be able to stare at him longingly, from afar. Never in a million years did you imagine that you would actually become his friend. 

Even though your friendship is destined to be cut short, you’re determined to enjoy these blissful moments for as long as you can.

You and Itadori say goodbye to Sasaki and Iguchi, and the two of you walk out of the building together, stopping by a vending machine to grab some canned drinks. You crack your can open and sit down next to him, relishing in the fresh air paired with the cool liquid running down your throat. 

“Visiting your grandpa again, right?” you affirm. 

Itadori takes a big gulp, then nods. “Yeah. Same old, I guess. That’s another reason why it’s nice being part of the Occult Research Club. A lot of people have pestered me to join athletic clubs, but they run way too late. I wouldn’t be able to make it down to the hospital in time for visiting hours. It just works out better this way. Plus, hanging out with those guys is a lot of fun.”

“It’s nice that you always make an effort to visit him,” you say, smiling gently. “I’m sure he really appreciates the time he gets to spend with you. It must mean a lot to him.” 

“Well, I’m the only one he has left, so I’d feel really crappy if he had to spend every day all on his own.”

“Still. Not everyone would make sure to visit every single day, like you do. You’re really kind. You’re a good person, Itadori.” 

You hold your smile as you take another sip of your drink, and you don’t notice that Itadori is staring at you wide-eyed, at least, not until you turn and realize he’s nearly breathing down your neck. 

“Um,” you say, feeling a bit embarrassed by how close he is, “y-yes? Is there… something on my face?” 

Itadori scratches his neck. “Uh. This might sound like a bit of a weird request and all, but I was just wondering if… maybe you wanted to come with me today?” 

“Come with you?” 

“Yeah. To visit my gramps. Since we got to talking and all, I figured maybe he’d like to see someone other than me for a change. To be honest, I don’t think he has much longer left. He’s always snapping at me for visiting him, saying I shouldn’t waste my time going to a depressing place like that, and that I should be spending time in clubs with my friends instead. Maybe he’ll feel better if he sees me bring a friend along. He won’t worry that I’m lonely, like he is.” 

You proceed to just stare at him, and although you didn’t intend for your gaze to be unsettling, Itadori lets out a nervous chuckle and quickly shakes his head.

“Aw, man, what am I even saying? Sorry. That was kind of weird. I’m sure you wouldn’t want to waste your free time going to a hospital, of all places. I didn’t mean to try and pressure you into anything. Just forget what I—” 

“I'll go,” you blurt. “If you're sure you want me to come with you, then yes. I'd be happy to meet your grandpa.”

Itadori blinks rapidly, clearly bewildered, but it doesn’t take long for one of those ridiculously cute smiles to spread across his lips. 

“Awesome! Thanks so much, [Name]. That’s really cool of you. I feel like you’re always the one doing me favors, even though it should be the other way around.” 

“It’s not a favor,” you reassure. You pause, smiling shyly. “I really like spending time with you, after all.” 

Itadori’s smile shows no signs of disappearing, and together, you make the trip to Sugisawa Hospital, where his grandfather is currently admitted. 

You have to admit, you feel a little nervous. His grandfather is his only remaining family, and naturally, you want to make a good impression. Even more so because you know that he doesn’t have much time left. You may not be able to stay by Itadori’s side once the canon plot begins, but at least for now, you’d like to put his grandfather at ease. 

“Don’t worry,” Itadori reassures, smiling brightly. “He might seem like a crabby old man at first, but he’s not actually that bad. I know he’ll be happy to see me with a friend.” 

You smile back and quickly nod, and after a moment’s delay, Itadori slides the door open. 

“...you again, Yuji?” a gruff voice immediately barks out. “I thought I told you to quit wasting your time stopping by. Don’t you have anything better to do? What about your school club?” 

Itadori steps into the room first, rolling his eyes as if this kind of reaction is typical, but once you follow behind him and make your presence known, his grandfather’s expression does a full one-eighty. 

“Oh,” he blinks. “Who’s this now? Yuji, don’t tell me… you finally managed to get yourself a girlfriend? Good going, kid. I didn’t know you had it in you.” 

Itadori blushes a bit, but his embarrassment dissolves once he lets out a sigh. “Cool it, old man. Don’t make me regret bringing her. This is [Name]. She’s my friend. You always seem so worried about me not spending enough time with other people, so I invited her to come, and she accepted. Make sure to be nice to her, okay?” 

“It’s very nice to meet you, sir,” you say, bowing your head. “I hope me being here isn’t an inconvenience.” 

“Itadori Wasuke,” his grandfather introduces. You watch as he sits up a bit straighter in his hospital bed. “Hm. Are you sure you’re not dating Yuji? You seem like you’ve got a good head on your shoulders. You’ve got manners, unlike this brat. Hey, Yuji. Don’t be stupid. You don’t want to lose a pretty girl like her to someone else.” 

Itadori rolls his eyes again. “It might be easier said than done, but try to ignore him. Sometimes I think he just says things because he likes hearing the sound of his own voice.” 

“See that?” Wasuke points. “Do you see how this ungrateful grandson of mine treats me?” 

You bite back a chuckle. Naturally, you’ve already gotten a glimpse of what their relationship is like, well before meeting either of them in person. Wasuke may have a sharp tongue, but it’s clear that he loves his grandson, and he wants him to have a good life. He wants him to be surrounded by people who care for him, and even though Itadori will face plenty of hardship in the future, the fact remains that he will have plenty of friends who are willing to stand by his side. 

“Itadori’s a really good guy,” you say, lacing your hands together and smiling. “Everyone likes him. He’s got a lot of other friends besides me. And I know he’ll make countless more friends from here on out.” 

You pause to gauge their reactions. Itadori is blinking at you, perhaps a bit flustered by your sudden declaration, and Wasuke’s expression hasn’t really changed much, but you notice that his eyes are a bit wider than they were a second ago. 

It’s awfully subtle, but for just a brief moment, a smile rises to Wasuke’s lips. 

“Is that so?” he chuckles. “Thank you for saying that, young lady. I’ll admit that it brings me some relief. I’m glad Yuji isn’t just wasting the best years of his life tending to a sickly old man like me. If he’s got friends like you who speak so highly of him… then I guess he must be doing something right.” 

“No way,” Itadori marvels. “Did you just compliment me, gramps?” 

“Don’t get used to it.” 

“Still! You actually said something kind of nice for a change!” 

“Alright, I take back everything I just said.” 

The two of them go back and forth like this for a while longer, and you’re perfectly content to just stand there and watch. It’d be nice if Wasuke could stick around longer. It’d be nice if Itadori didn’t have to lose the only family he has left. But without a doubt, Wasuke will live on in his heart, and you get the feeling that even when he passes, he’ll be watching over him for a long, long time. 

Wasuke clears his throat. “Seriously, though. If you don’t act fast enough, by the time you know it, [Name] will be dating someone else. Don’t live a life filled with regrets, kid.” 

“...gramps, come on.” 

Uh-oh.

You’re not an idiot, so of course, you know what this means. The wooden box he’s referring to is where Sukuna’s finger was being kept. Up until Itadori found it, that is. 

Which can only mean that soon—like, very soon—the main plotline will begin to unfold. 

You nervously chew on your lip. Truth to be told, you want absolutely nothing to do with that stinky finger. You already know that everything will be fine until the Occult Club members remove the seal, but still. The whole thing just freaks you out, and it’s way too scary to even fathom getting involved in. 

While you struggle to come up with a reasonable excuse, your phone buzzes again. 

Balls. He’s just too goddamn cute. It makes it downright impossible to turn him down. 

With a heavy sigh, you text him that you’re on your way, and you eventually get there, unsurprised to see him standing in front of the same storage box that Fushiguro was frantically searching at the start of the series. 

Itadori grins widely. “Thanks for coming! Here, check this out. Have you ever seen something like this before? It looks kind of supernatural, doesn’t it? I bet Sasaki and Iguchi would go crazy over this.”

He proceeds to hold up a small, visibly old wooden box, and you gulp as he opens it up to reveal the cursed object inside—one of Sukuna’s fingers.

Of course, he doesn’t have the slightest clue what it actually is. It’s completely wrapped up in the seal, making the object inside indiscernible. He probably wouldn’t be grinning ear-to-ear if he knew it was some wrinkly old finger. 

…then again, he swallowed said finger without even hesitating, so maybe he wouldn’t actually care that much. 

“Oh, c-cool,” you say, doing your best to mask your discomfort. “Yeah, it definitely gives off that occult vibe. I’m sure the other club members would like it a lot.” 

“I really wonder what it’s even supposed to be, though.” Itadori frowns as he picks up the sealed finger—much to your horror—and leans in closer to get a better look at it. “Yep, I honestly have no idea. You got any theories, [Name]?”

Without warning, he tosses the cursed object towards you, and out of pure reflex, you lurch forward to catch it. 

The second it falls into your hands, you experience a sense of dread that is almost too nauseating to put into words. 

It’s only for a moment, but the scene before your eyes changes. All of a sudden, you feel something wet sloshing around your feet, and you look down to find crimson liquid, red water, or perhaps—blood. 

You try to choke out a few words, but no sound escapes your lips. You’re understandably disoriented, so your gaze then pans upwards, and to say that you’re terror-struck would still have been an understatement. 

Right there, sitting on top of a pile of skeletons, is Sukuna.

It seems as though you’ve lost the ability to speak, but even if you could speak, you doubt you would have been able to find the right words. You’re too overwhelmed with fear to even think clearly, and right before you collapse onto your knees, just shy of a meltdown, Sukuna knits his brows together and leans forward.

“...who are you?”

You snap out of it with a gasp, only to find that you’re still standing in front of Itadori, who has a worried look on his face. 

“[Name]?” he frowns. “What’s wrong? You don’t look so good. Sorry, did I freak you out by tossing that thing at you? I probably shouldn’t have done that. I get why you’d be startled.” 

He crouches down to pick up the cursed object, which you apparently dropped to the ground without even realizing it. You place a hand over your chest, exhaling shakily. Your heart is pounding relentlessly, and you feel dizzy, like you might pass out at any given moment.

Just now… that was Sukuna’s Innate Domain, right? But how is that even possible? He hasn’t even been incarnated through Itadori yet…

You swallow hard. That finger is completely sealed. Even though the seal is old enough to be torn off by even a regular human—like Sasaki, for instance—Sukuna shouldn’t have appeared before you. Or at the very least, you shouldn’t have been able to see him. 

Maybe it was just a strange vision. Maybe the shock induced some kind of hallucination, or something. None of this makes any sense in the first place. The fact that you’ve been transported into the world of Jujutsu Kaisen.

Itadori places the cursed object back inside the box, then tucks it into his pocket. “Sorry again for catching you off guard like that. Are you okay? You look a bit faint. That was my bad. You even mentioned before that you don’t really like scary stuff, so I should have thought twice before doing that.” 

“I’m okay,” you reassure, and it’s true. You feel perfectly fine now. That sensation of choking up and being overcome with fear is already a thing of the past. It seems more and more likely that it was probably all in your head. 

Yeah.

You must have just been imagining things. 

“Kokkuri, Kokkuri, please tell us… which creature is the school council president weaker than?!” 

Ah. So, it’s finally starting. 

The question is all too familiar, of course, and as you allow the coin to be guided around the board, the word formed is exactly what you expected. 

“What? A fish?” everyone laughs in response, and just like in the canon series, the door abruptly slides open, revealing none other than the student council president himself. 

He starts berating everyone in the room, of course, but you're not really paying attention. 

Instead, you gaze at Itadori with a wistful smile, realizing that after today, you will no longer be part of his life.

There's no place for you by his side. It's simply too dangerous, and even if you were strong enough, you can't risk upsetting the delicate balance of this world. Everything will unfold the way it's supposed to, which means that your role here, albeit small as it was, is over. 

…or is it?

More chapters are available on Quotev and Ao3!

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[sixosix]

i want you for worse or for better | aether

synopsis your ex, aether, asks you to be his plus one; you were doomed from the very beginning.

tags wc 2.8k, gn!reader, modern au, profanity, getting back together, exes to lovers, humor bc i cant take my own writing seriously, ft 4GGRAVATE!!!

notes ty to @earthtooz and @naosaki helping me brainstorm w this one… our big brains were on the same wave while cooking.

Aether moved around a lot. He was never the type to settle down. It was in his blood to explore the world and leave only a trace of him behind. He was something like a hero, coming in at the worst time and leaving them better than before. You couldn’t say the same about his effect on you, though.

You told him of this before, and he slumped over and rested his head on your lap, “I don’t even mean to. Are you at least swept off your feet by my heroic deeds?”

“I was so charmed I only dated you because you have overthrown the government,” you said.

Aether had laughed then, and kissed you sweetly. You couldn’t fool him for a second—how you melted to the kiss spoke for itself. You loved him for so much more than that.

But you also knew that it wouldn’t last long. Aether warned you about it, too; you couldn’t even be mad. How could you blame anyone but yourself when you deliberately brushed past all the warning signs?

“I don’t stay,” Aether told you, at the time. “If you want to do this…”

“I know,” you said, at the time. “I know what I’m getting myself into. So will you just kiss me already?”

Well, you should’ve known, too, that falling out of love with Aether wouldn’t be as easy as falling in love with him. Not when he kissed you like he would never leave, anyway. You were doomed from the very beginning.

“You’ve been staring at your phone for a worryingly long time now,” Tighnari said, eyeing you from the top of his cards.

You were seated on Alhaitham’s living room couch, the four boys lounging on the floor playing TCG. Cyno was winning effortlessly against Kaveh, but against Tighnari, he found himself at a loss. Alhaitham was continuing Cyno’s winning streak on his behalf, while Cyno was down two rounds from playing with Tighnari. You had been playing, too, but your phone lit up and displayed a name that had you dropping your cards and hiding your screen from your friends’ view.

You bit your lip and reread the message for the third time. The previous texts had been months ago, with him wishing you a happy birthday. You replied with a Thank you and a red heart emoji, because the &lt;3 emoticon felt too intimate.

“Aether texted me,” you murmured, then braced yourself for the explosion.

It was Kaveh that did. “Aether? As in your ex, Aether? That Aether?” Kaveh demanded.

“Do you know other Aethers?” Alhaitham quipped, then placed a card that had Kaveh clutching his head and groaning.

“Shut up,” Kaveh hissed, mostly because he lost. “The point is—that’s your ex! What did he say?”

You buried your face on the couch pillow, hating how your heart was racing. Like you were still in high school, or something, and not a full-grown adult who was having a crisis over their ex texting them. “He said hey are you up?, all lowercase, no comma.”

“No comma,” Kaveh repeated with a suspicious look on his face.

“No need to be so wary,” Cyno said. “His intentions don't appear to deliberately cause any 'comma-tion’.”

Tighnari’s ears dropped along with his face.

“Do you get it?” Cyno seemed proud that he was able to come up with that one right away. “There was no comma. It was a wordplay on commotion—”

“Did he also say what he was texting you for?” Kaveh interrupted loudly. “If he wants something, send a picture of us and tell him you’re busy.”

“Aether’s not like that,” you murmured in defeat.

Kaveh was making him out to be some sort of playboy. Aether wasn’t, which made you worry more. You didn’t want to entertain someone who left you, but you still cared enough to wonder if something came up and he needed you.

“You’re going to reply?” Tighnari asked.

“Yes,” you said, typing out a what’s up? and hitting Send. You didn’t know why you had butterflies in your stomach—you used to shower with Aether back when you were still together; there was no need to be so nervous. “He’s your friend, too, you know.”

“You were our friend first,” Kaveh said. “And he broke your heart. That’s not something to be taken lightly.”

You felt warm, a smile blooming on your face. “It’s okay. I wasn’t that affected.”

“You were,” Kaveh, Tighnari, and Cyno chorused.

“Fuck you,” you said, smile dropping.

Aether was typing again. You sat up straight and watched the three dots do the worm on the bottom of your screen. 

hi :) how are you?

Ugh. Furiously, you typed, aether spit it out. did something happen?

okay okay

You expected that he just wanted something. Something had to have come up for him to text you after months. That didn’t make it hurt any less, though. Maybe Aether was a playboy; the way he played with your feelings almost qualified him for it.

But then you think back to when Aether was still in Sumeru, lighting up the room, lighting up a fire in your heart. He was everyone’s favorite, too, not just yours. And even if Kaveh and the others denied it now, they hadn’t been able to deny him back then. Aether helped them out in ways they didn’t know how to repay. Aether made you so happy, to be thinking so negatively about him like this.

Aether sent: i’m invited to aymar’s wedding and i wanted to ask if you would agree to be my plus one

why me?

you’re the first person i thought of.

Perhaps he wasn’t in trouble—he was trouble enough. What were you getting yourself into?

i thought you didn’t want to get involved with Aymar anymore

i can’t turn down an excuse to eat free at a buffet

You sighed. You wouldn’t, either.

You frowned at your screen, wishing it was Aether in front of you instead. Maybe if you could read his expressions instead of reading between the lines of his texts, you could figure out why he invited his ex, of all the people he knew.

besides, Aether continued to text, this is probably aymar’s way of showing us that she’s over me. she has a groom now and all that

Aymar had the biggest crush on Aether, and she never hid it, even when you and Aether were dating. But despite her advances, she was a sweet girl who was just as infatuated with your ex as the rest of Teyvat was. Maybe this was her way of apologizing.

However—

she didn’t even invite me wtf

haha well is that a no?

“Guys,” you spoke up, grabbing your friends’ attention. Kaveh was still losing miserably. “Have you heard news of Aymar’s wedding?”

“Oh,” Kaveh looked thoughtful, “yes. We were invited.”

“What? Was I the only one not invited?”

“Maybe it’s because you got to date Aether and she didn’t,” Tighnari said.

You rolled your eyes. “Well, Aether’s asking me to be his plus one—and I’m going to say yes don’t look at me like that.”

Alhaitham, Cyno, and Kaveh wordlessly clear their expressions.

“Oh,” Tighnari frowned. “We weren’t planning on going.”

“We have to now!” Kaveh said. “We have to, if Y/N’s going.”

“Is this too much?”

You checked yourself out in the full-length mirror, performing a little twirl that had Kaveh clapping. Alhaitham sat beside him, briefly looking up from his book. Tighnari and Cyno were elsewhere, picking shoes for you that would be in the range of ‘cheap’ and ‘expensive, but not because I care about what Aether would think’.

“Of course not,” Kaveh said, giving a thumbs up. “You look great!”

You turned to Alhaitham next, who didn’t hesitate: “Looks good. Might as well wear yellow, too.”

You flushed hotly at his implications. “I’m not dressing up to impress him! This is a formal event, which he happened to invite me to—as friends.”

“Right,” Alhaitham drawled. He could at least pretend to believe you, but that would probably be asking too much from him already.

Kaveh nudged Alhaitham, with a bit more force than necessary. “Cut Y/N some slack.”

Alhaitham sighed imperceptibly, turning his full attention to you. “This would probably be the closure you needed,” Alhaitham said, and you recognized his way of comfort for the way it is. “You’ll find out that you’re over him after this.”

“You’re right,” you said, breathing in deep. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“So,” Kaveh stood up. “Is that what you’re buying? Let’s make haste—Cyno reserved a spot in the line for you!”

Excitement bubbled in your chest as you held the fabric to your chest.

You were definitely not over Aether.

As soon as you felt yourself fidgeting nervously a block away from the ceremony, you knew. As soon as a car rolled in and he stumbled out of the car, tripping because he was waving at you, you knew that you were so not over him.

You tried to blame the heat of the sun for how warm you suddenly felt, but you could be referring to the other sun making his merry way to you, his smile bright, all teeth. His braid could almost be a tail from how it waggled as he jogged over.

“Hey,” Aether, charming and beautiful Aether, gold and warm—your ex, Aether—breathed out, “you look great.”

“You, too.” Aether looked maddening in a suit, in the best way possible. You felt lightheaded and choked out, “Very dashing.”

“Yeah?” He grinned.

“Yeah,” you said, then turned away in case he saw the raw, unfiltered want on your face.

“Shall we?”

How cheesy. Still, you felt yourself flush as you linked your arms with his, like you were a couple. Kaveh was going to kill you—after he killed Aether first.

Aymar’s wedding was startlingly grand. You think she might just have invited the entirety of Sumeru; you might even find Lesser Lord Kusanali here, maybe. 

You found your friends and settled beside them while Aether awkwardly sat on the far edge. He seemed reluctant to have space from you, so you pulled him closer.

“Hey,” Tighnari greeted him. “How have you been? You stopped sending us letters.”

Aether looked extremely uncomfortable. He must be feeling Cyno’s stern stare. “Haha. Well, yeah.” 

The ceremony went as usual. The groom was someone you didn’t recognize; he looked like he was from Sumeru, all big and intimidating—the complete opposite of Aether. Aymar’s tastes changed drastically. All the same, you cheered along with the crowd when they kissed.

You haven’t been able to attend many weddings yourself, though you could always appreciate how emotional the newlyweds got. Vows were always the sweetest to hear. You’d never seen Aymar smile so wide before; then again, it was only fitting. This was her wedding day. Not that you’d know, though.

You glance to the side, catching Aether looking at the newlyweds kiss with an unreadable expression on his face. He looked like he longed for it, but that didn’t seem right. Weddings tied you down. Aether didn’t want to be tied down.

Kaveh clapped the loudest, which snapped Aether into clapping along as well.

You wondered what Aether was thinking. You wonder if he was thinking the same. Looking at the happy bride and the teary groom—could this have been you and him in another life?

Hah.

That’s a funny thought.

You bit your bottom lip to distract yourself from feeling your eyes go hot.

Aymar beamed at you two as she bounded over. “You came!” she said, though it was directed at you.

You wanted to tell her you weren’t even invited, but you felt like that would ruin the moment. Plus, it was literally her wedding. You were glad you ended up here after all the years you spent knowing each other. You smiled back, genuine, and leaned into her hug.

“Of course,” you said. “You look beautiful.”

Aymar blushed. “Thank you. You two look great as well!”

Aether shuffled beside you. “Thanks for inviting us.”

Aymar had that look in her eye that spelled suspicious.

But the past was the past. You weren’t going to get jealous when Aymar was quite literally married, and Aether wasn’t even your boyfriend anymore. “I’m glad you’re happy, Aymar,” you said.

Aymar glanced between the two of you, then finally at you. “I hope you find happiness, too, Y/N. Soon, hopefully.”

The reception started. While your friends were busy hoarding the food, you and Aether were left alone. He looked uncharacteristically nervous—it made you pity him. He was the one who asked you to come with him, but he must have felt out of place the entire time. Everyone thought he would never return, after all.

You traced the rim of your glass, hoping to appear nonchalant. “So, what have you been up to while at Fontaine? Finally moving off to Natlan?” you asked, then bit back a Find any other flings, too?

Aether sighed, twirling his champagne flute before taking a long sip. “Didn’t do too much, honestly. I spent most of my time there thinking.” His eyes flicked up to yours. “Lumine already found her place here in Teyvat, and I…”

Oh.

You were glad you held back from being petty while Aether was genuinely distressed over his journey to self-discovery. Again, you weren’t an asshole. And you still cared about Aether, despite everything, because he was hard to hate. With a sad face like that…

“Sorry,” you muttered. You didn’t mean to make him remember Lumine.

Aether laughed softly. “It’s not like that. It took me a while, but—I had already found my place, too. I was just too dumb not to realize it sooner.”

You wanted to chide him for calling himself dumb, but he was looking at you like he was waiting for you to get something. You blinked, feeling lost.

Aether tilted his head. “It’s with you.”

Your mouth hung open. “What?”

Aether went to repeat it, but Cyno and Tighnari had come back with plates heaping with food. Cyno had one on each hand, unabashed. He sat on his seat and said, in all seriousness, “We might have finished all the catering.”

Tighnari chuckled, “We didn’t, but you two should hurry and get your fill.”

You didn’t get another chance to talk with Aether privately during the reception, but it was still good fun. Aether seemed to warm up to your friends again—or, rather, your friends seemed to warm up to him again.

You shared laughs, food, and toasts with the newlyweds—but your favorite had to have been sharing glances with Aether all throughout the night.

You and Aether went ahead. Cyno and Tighnari didn’t seem surprised when you told them that you were letting Aether take you home, which would have certainly been a blow to your dignity had it been in any other situation.

“So,” you started, “what made you realize you wanted to get me back? Did you have some revelation while in Fontaine?”

“Yes, actually,” Aether said, his hands brushing against yours now and then. “For every sight and couple I saw, I just kept thinking about how you would’ve loved it there.”

“Oh.”

Aether looked bashful. The moonlight highlighted his blush well. “I thought it was because we had just broken up at the time, but I never stopped thinking about you.”

Aether kept going, but you were already sold. You already wanted to get back with him the moment he texted you with all lowercase and no commas. You were fooling no one. Not Alhaitham, not yourself. “What, so you want to take me to the City of Love?”

Aether looked at you fondly. “You would always be the first one I’d think of.”

“I curbed your wanderlust…?” You were fishing for it at this point, but being deprived of Aether’s affections for a long while did that to a person.

You felt outmaneuvered. Shouldn’t you be letting him chase after you a bit more? Why were you discarding your pride just like that? Over your ex?

Your not-ex-anymore now-boyfriend-again smiled. “You became my reason to stay.”

Well. You were doomed from the very beginning.

“Aether!” Paimon shrieked from the other room. “You have mail!”

“Alright, alright,” Aether sighed, lazily pulling himself up from his bed and trudging to the living room. Paimon held a brown envelope.

Aether opened it and withdrew the contents, puzzled.

“Ooh!” Paimon gasped. “Two invitations for a wedding? Is it for Paimon, too?”

Aether ripped the other envelope, heart stuttering at the sight of a familiar name inked on the vellum paper. He blushed. “This is—!”

“Huh? For Y/N?” Paimon snatched the invitation from Aether’s fingers. “Why was it addressed to us? Maybe they were mistaken…”

Aether read something on the back of your invitation. “I don’t think it was mistaken.”

Written with a ballpen, it said, Hi, Y/N! It’s Aymar! I don’t know Aether’s address and none of my colleagues seemed to know where his residence would be…? (Probably because Aether wasn’t even in Sumeru.) But I assumed you would be staying together, so here’s my invitation for you both—I hope you can come!

Aether recognized an opportunity when he saw one.

extras!

the ending was rlly vague so let me add: aether was planning to go back to sumeru for you already and the wedding invitation was a perfect excuse—he flew out back to sumeru literally the next day.

earthtooz was making out with alhaitham & art was making out w kaveh during the reception which is why they dont show up during the end thanks

cyno brought his tcg deck and made tighnari bring his own—thats what they did during the afterparty lol

don’t ask if paimon was floating or if she was on the ground. sometimes we dont have to question things.

aymar was a name i just grabbed from the list of sumeru npcs—i don’t actually know if i butchered her personality horribly. if i did, forgive me.

THANK YOU FOR READING HOPE U ENJOYED!! LMK WHAT U THINK <3333 comments/rbs get a kiss from aether

[williamkisser]

A Luca x reader would be nice........... preferably slow burn and y/n is the shy type............. I'm hungry................. Thirsty............ Would beg....... Thank you.... *dying*

♡— The Prisoner with a shy S/O

♡— Oh my god… anon… N-N… NO!!!! Anon please, don’t do this to me… breathe. Oh my god. BREATHE!! *sniff* *sob* i’m… I’m so sorry i couldn’t save you, anon…. I hope you’re in a better place now… *sob*

♡— Warnings: g/n reader, fluff, possibly ooc i’m not sure, word count is 1400

♡— Luca Balsa, despite going through a turmoil of tragic events, never did once even try to stop working on his lifelong passion, god forbid even think of it. Yes, around him there were degenerates, murderers, thieves, even mystical, strange creatures - such combinations would drive any man crazy, as if anyone in here already wasn’t. But after all, finding something you could get absorbed in is the best method for killing time, don’t they say? Not even his developing issue with memory loss can stop him now.

♡— That’s why the prisoner, most of the time, could be found in the comfort of his own dorm, sitting by the desk while brain storming for yet another solution to the new experiment he was currently developing. And to be frank, he did quite like it this way. He had his own corner in the world, didn’t need to worry about money, could eat delicious meals and could even discuss some scientific matters with a few other enlightened individuals. And the prize for winning the game was even more tempting. Just imagine how much quicker he could develop his project with all this cash.

♡— Despite all the focus on his own dreams and scientific infatuations, Luca didn’t stray from engaging in interactions with other people. He’s certainly considered as one of the friendliest and most cheerful people in here. Some wonder if anyone im here ever managed to get on his nerve. He’s just very tolerable towards most, if not all, however, clearly he feels most comfortable near people who are willing to listen to his info-dumps, or engage in smart conversations, ask questions and give suggestions. There weren’t much residents in the manor like this. Most are either uninterested or too weirded out, therefore the prisoner always appreciated the open minded ones.

♡— Sadly, Luca’s past whereabouts left a permanent scar on him, making him a little unaware to some social cues. This man can not pick up on someone being painfully visibly attracted to him. He assumes all people willingly interacting with him are either friendly or just curious. Luca likes showing off and exchanging ideas with his mentor Alva, asking Helena for advice and letting her touch all of his tools or projects, trying to connect nature with science together with Luchino, or even explaining his ideas to the suspiciously fascinated Florian.

♡— And then there was you. A person very shy, awkward even. Everyone didn’t mind your presence, you just existed in your own bubble, in silence. Sometimes, someone would try to include you in some conversation, and while you did appreciate the gesture you just couldn’t grasp why you felt so uncomfortable, barely able to form a meaningful sentence. That was until you first encountered a young, quite charming in his own way man personally. You instantly became fond of Luca Balsa. Something about him just radiated pure happiness. He genuinely wanted to talk with you, sensing your anxiety, and you have no idea whether it’s for better or worse, because, oh God - he made you feel butterflies in your stomach and needles in your heart. You’ve got a crush on the Oletus manor’s „Prisoner”.

♡— You didn’t know what to do. The newly discovered feelings for the boy made your anxiety far more intense than it already was. Something in your head just screamed to not get too attached, after all, this is Luca Balsa we’re speaking of, he most likely doesn’t view you as anything else but a companion in matches. But, of course, the heart always does whatever it wants, ignoring the brain. That’s how you found yourself standing in front of his dorm doors, reflecting on if it’s alright for you to knock on them. What if he’s too busy right now and you’re just going to be a burden? This was a part of your mastermind plan - try to get into his interests and become a closer friend, and then…. maybe the friendship could bloom onto something else? You were in deep wonder, unaware that the doors are now open and Luca was waving his hand in front of your face. Earth to you.

♡— Either way, you spent some quality time with him together. He was very pleased to hear that you wanted to find out more about his projects and shared several insights related to his future plans. His dorm felt oddly cozy. You didn’t even realize that visiting Luca became some sort of a habit of yours, entering his workplace nearly on a daily basis - it made you forget about all the atrocities you witnessed during the bloody games. His voice was so soft and gentle, his eyes beamed as you kept asking questions about what is he doing right now. Luca felt so glad to elaborate and ramble about his passion. He’d even offer you to help him, giving you simple tasks as asking you to bring a certain tool. He was well aware of your shyness, so he was as understanding as he could, not forcing anything onto you. One day, Luchino teasingly called you „Luca’s little assistant”. The intense colour of your cheeks spoke for itself. You were head over heels.

♡— Quickly enough, your small acts of kindness turned into something way more serious. At one point, you felt like Luca’s own caretaker, because he was literally too absorbed in his work to pay attention to his own well-being. After you began frequently assisting him in not only helping to build some programs, you just took care of his needs. While Luca would love to stay up all night and didn’t like when people complained about it, oddly enough, he didn’t hesitate to tuck himself into his bed after you offered the prisoner too. You made sure he went outside and ate enough. Simple gestures like that were your own way of showing him affection, as you were too shy to be verbally affectionate.

♡— The whole situationship was now taking way too long. You were absolutely crazy over Luca, while he viewed you as a good friend and a fast learning companion. Everyone could tell you were following him like a lost puppy outside of matches, and he didn’t mind it at all. You just wished he would finally pick up on your real intentions, but at the same time you felt worried. What if he won’t talk to you anymore? What if there will be weird tension between the both of you if you confess? On one ordinary day, you were sitting by his desk as always, silently reading the notes hanged on the cork board while Luca came to you and asked to help him draw a technical sketch in his work notebook, to which you agreed to. After months of practice in his dorm you already knew how to properly draw a project on a piece of paper with accurate proportions - yet this certain sketch was new to you, you weren’t quite sure how to do it. That’s when Luca held your hand and guided it, helping you be more precise, and what an amazing, ecstatic feeling it was, his hand contained a specific, electric even, feeling on top of that. You blushed so hard you were surprised Luca didn’t even notice, but you knew you can’t be with him this way. You were hurting yourself by not telling the truth.

♡— This is how you found yourself sitting on Lucas’s desk, looking down and fidgeting with your fingers after telling the prisoner to listen for a minute. The whole thing was so stressful you can barely remember anything from that moment, not sure if it’s because of your own anxiety or if it’s the curse of this wicked place you’re stuck in. Either way, your confession to him was probably the most awkward one this Manor has ever seen - and it certainly saw a lot. Luca was surprised he didn’t manage to connect the dots for so long. He was focused on all the wrong things and failed to notice your affection towards him. Those were a few painful months, but he was going to make sure you know he appreciates all the help, not only on the projects, but also helping him take care of himself. Luca asked you for permission to kiss you while holding your hand, which you agreed to, feeling happy like never, making all your shyness go away for once… which did not last long, as Florian entered the room without knocking, making a loud „EWW” sound. Luca was going to make sure no one will interrupt you, scribbling something about a doorbell in his notebook right after kissing you like his life depended on it. Turns out, Luca Balsa now has found something to look forward to in his life other that science and innovative inventions - which was you.

Thank you for your request anon… i hope you can read this fic in the afterlife at least… anyways this my first time writing a fic for a character i’m not very familiar with. I tried to be as accurate as i could so i’m sorry if it’s ooc 😭 anyways it’s 2am now… idv x reader tag how are you doing on this lovely summer night

[pars-ley]

I...do? (part three)

Pairing: Taehyung x female reader ft ex boyfriend Seokjin Summary: Waiting for Taehyung to return from the fishing trip with your dad was almost unbearable. Will your father approve of your fiancé, or will Mr Kim end up revealing his true colours? Running into your ex in town, however, was worse than anything you were worrying about. Genre: Enemies to lovers au / CEO au / fake dating au / colleagues to lovers au / co-workers to lovers / series / angst / fluff / smut Rating: 18+ (future chapters will be NSFW) Warnings (per chapter) : conversations about sex / talking about orgasms / mentions of male appendage size / talk of emotional abusive ex / insults from an ex / slight physical assault (between two male characters) / discussions about loss of virginity /  W/C: 3.9k Banner: @shadowkoo <3 Beta: @cherrysoulth i appreciate you. A/N: Here’s part three, thank you all for the Iikes, the comments and reblogs, I love how into this story people are! And thank you for being patient with me while I completed this chapter. Taglist: @taebae19 @ladyartemesia @taestannie @somewhereofftheglobe @m-1234 @siadreams @moonchild1 @taebangtanbabe @leedoesntknaur @11thenightwemet11 @chickenscoups @stellamalonesolaria @taiwan0618

The next morning, sitting in the kitchen, you and your mother idly chatter away, with your boss mostly focused on reading through emails on his laptop at the breakfast bar, until your dad finally comes down, leaving a descending silence in his wake. You scoop up your yogurt and granola, staring into your bowl, and feeling like a scalded teenager.

"Taehyung, do you fish?" your dad's gravelly voice shatters the quiet and has you all frozen, awaiting a response. 

"Fish? As in with a fishing rod?" he replies bewildered, spoonful of cereal in mid-air.

"That's usually how it works, yes. Unless you'd prefer to try catching them with your hands?" your dad replies as he pours his coffee and eats his toast straight-faced staring out of the back door into the garden.

"I've never tried any form of fishing, to be honest."

"Well, today's your lucky day, you're coming out on the boat with me."

You watch as Mr. Kim's eyes widen and for the first time since you've met him, you see genuine fear. "I'm not sure fishing is my thing, I-"

"You're about to become part of this family, son, I'm not making a request. You're coming out on the boat with me and learning how to fish. It's a tradition that goes back generations, that my dad did with me and his dad before that." your father's tone is so blunt and harsh, you can see that not even your back chatting boss would  argue. "Be ready to leave in ten."

Your father exits the room quickly, taking the awkward air with him and lifting the cloud of heavy silence.

"I've never been part of a tradition before." your boss' wistful voice sounds quietly into the stillness, as you take in his strange expression, a hint of sadness revealing itself in unguarded eyes, only momentarily before they harden back to unreadable.

"Don't worry," your mum interjects. "he's a big softie really."

"Who knows, maybe he won't bring you back." you tease, sounding hopeful and making him shift slightly in his seat.

"I’m sure you’ll win him over and you won't have to worry about anything," your mum interjects, playfully slapping you on the arm. “Besides, while the boys are out, you and me are having afternoon tea in town.”

“Yes ma’am.” playfully you salute her and finish your breakfast.

Sure enough, Mr. Kim is ready and downstairs in exactly 10 minutes, a sombre and concerned frown creasing his brow.

“Can you fish?” he asks, with a childlike curiosity that you find oddly endearing.

“My dad had two daughters and a tradition to uphold, what do you think?” smirking at him, you attempt to offer him some parting wisdom, "Listen," you whisper, "my dad is like a human lie detector, he sees through people much quicker than anyone I've ever met. Try to be as honest as you can…without completely being yourself."

He turns to you and you see a flash of annoyance flit across his eyes. "Am I that awful?"

You stare at him, perplexed as to what kind of pep talk he thought he was going to get. "Do you really want me to answer that?"

He grunts, "forget it." before storming out the front door and climbing into your dad's truck.

Staring off after them, hoping they come back a little more positive than they've left, but if Mr. Kim fell off the boat and was never found, it also would not be the worst thing that could happen.

******

"So, tell me how it happened? You and…Mr Kim." Your mother hesitates, unsure whether to stand on ceremony because he's your boss or to be casual because he's your fiancé. Even thinking those words seem absurd, you yourself can't even get past calling him anything other than Mr Kim. 

She eyes you over her teacup, as she blows the molten liquid inside. Steam billowing out around her face, making her look like a mafia boss waiting for your next wrong answer. Was she suspicious? You couldn't help the nerves bubbling away inside you while you prepared to lie to her. 

"As far as I was concerned, you hated this man." She says, matter-of-factly.

"I still do…at times. He infuriates me beyond belief, I hate his opinions on things, the way he talks to people, everything has to be his way and-"

"What do you actually like about him?" She cuts you off, forcing you to take a breath. While wanting to be as honest as possible, this question is going to be the hardest to answer.

"Well, I like his don't-give-a-fuck attitude."

Your mother cringes at your use of language but the corners of her mouth pull up slightly, a giveaway that she's secretly missed it.

"He doesn't care what anyone thinks about him and I admire that." pausing to think, your mind racing a mile a minute, grasping at straws. "He's very ambitious and focused, which is how he's come so far in his career."

You struggle to think of anything else without lying, so you say the most clichéd answer that comes to mind. "Besides, there is a different side to him that he doesn't show anybody. A gentle, softer side, that he hides underneath that mask." 

You're convinced that while that might be true for most people, you doubt very much it's true in this case. Some people are just entitled arseholes and your boss is very much one of them.

"And I suppose that him being heartbreakingly handsome helps?" your mother smirks at you from behind her cup.

"There are worse faces to look at." you reply, leaning back on your chair, stomach full of sandwiches and cakes.

You hate it, but your mother is right. He is devastatingly good looking. He has the type of face that should be on a billboard somewhere, outlined in neon lights and illuminated for all to see. But an ugly personality changes the way you look, even for the most attractive face.

"And what about…" your mother raises her eyebrows hoping you'll get the hint of what she's referring to…you do.

"Ma!"

"What?" she feigns, batting her eyelashes innocently. "It's important to be married to a man who knows how to satisfy you."

Laying your head on your folded arms on the table, you let out an amused sigh.

"While sex is not the main part of a marriage, it is a big part. A healthy sex life helps keep your marriage interesting, not to mention helps with communication and your overall bond." 

Groaning, you're still unable to lift your head to look at her.

"I'm just making sure that the man you're going to spend the rest of your life with, will make you happy in every sense. There's far too many egotistical men thinking they have all the power, for you to be faking your orgasms for their benefit. I mean, I thank god every day for your father, now he definitely keeps marriage interes-"

"Ma!" you finally meet her eyes. "I do not need to hear anything about you and dad!" you grimace, shaking the image from your mind, "and I can assure you, there is no need for faking orgasms."

She nods, seeming satisfied with your answer and goes back to sipping her drink. 

Mr. Kim is probably far too selfish to be good in bed. Most definitely. But now your mother has planted the seed, you were finding it hard not to think about it. Your mind wonders what his physique looks like underneath those fitted suits he wears. You want to think it'll be nothing special, but you can tell just by the way his shirt sits against him, that you would only be lying to yourself. 

The image of what he's like in bed is one you can't seem to shake. Is he a giver or receiver? Does he like to be dominant or submissive? Or even, is he gentle or rough…let's face it, nothing about this man seems gentle. You wonder for a brief moment what his lips would feel like against yours, when your mother interrupts, “look who's back,” she nods to the window, seeing your father's truck pulling up outside the local fishmongers.

Will they both have come back unharmed? Will Mr Kim have tried to mind his manners and keep his rude remarks to himself? God, you hoped so.

Glancing over at your mum; you see her amusement twinkle in her eyes, “I'm sure it will be fine, let's go and find out.”

Grabbing your bag, you head straight for the door, nerves twisting your stomach and making you regret eating so much at lunch.

The sound of talking and laughter comes from within the shop. Your dad must be sharing stories with the local fishmongers, something that must be making Mr Kim feel very awkward and you can't help the slight smile that plays at the corner of your mouth at the thought.

"Hello boys," your mum says, taking the lead into the store, “how was your trip?”

The sight that greets you makes you pause, frozen in the doorway. Your dad; smiling with an arm around Mr Kim’s shoulders. What universe have you stumbled into? How could this be possible?

Your father winks at you. Seeming much more himself as he comes over and beams when he lays eyes on your mother, closing the distance quickly to cuddle her and kiss her cheek.

Turning back to you, he pulls you under his arm, "your boy done good. He's a natural."

Your head snaps over as your mouth gapes open, shocked at your dad's sudden change of heart. Not to mention, Mr Kim’s eyes wide with an excited gleam. He looks like a different person, relaxed and…happy, for once he's actually smiling. Something you've never seen in the three years you've known him. For a moment, you're struck at just how gorgeous his boxy grin is. Breath frozen in your lungs, as you blink furiously in an attempt to rid yourself of the spell that's been placed upon you.

"You caught a fish?" you ask, in utter disbelief.

"Several actually." he looks down at you with a smug grin.

Your eyes go straight to your father, frowning, you feel utterly betrayed by him. You assumed he'd never buy into your boss' charade and hate him as much as you do. If you were being honest, a small part of you really hoped Mr Kim would fail and that your dad wouldn't approve of the wedding. No more lies and yet…here you are.

"What's that face for, Princess?" your dad asks, as he squeezes your shoulder, comfortingly, "worried I wouldn't bring him back?" Smirking down at you, you watch his face carefully until he meets your questioning gaze with serious eyes. "He's ok." 

There it is. Confirmation of your dad's seal of approval. Any words you had are swallowed whole by shock but still desperately trying to escape, judging by the taste of disdain that is repeating on you, burning its way up your throat.

How could he have fooled your father? 

There wasn't a time you recall your dad ever being wrong about someone and today was a first. The first of him being duped and believing a lie, to make matters worse, it’s a lie that you're partly orchestrating. 

But for some strange reason, watching Mr Kim's face light up as he shows your mother and the fishmonger his catches, pushes away your guilt and replaces it with both; bewilderment and fascination. How can something as simple as fishing inspire this response from your boss? 

Whilst you and your mother wait, Mr Kim and your dad sell their catches to the fishmonger. “See, didn't I say everything would be fine?” she almost gloats, making you roll your eyes in response.

When they're done, your mother and father head off to the grocery store to get some food for dinner. Your mother convinces you to show Mr Kim around the town. His good mood clearly extended beyond fishing as he agrees, much to your surprise.

“All things considered,” Mr Kim starts, “it's small, this place, but it does have some endearing qualities.”

Frowning over at him, you can't help the response that leaves your mouth. “Ok, who are you and what have you done with Mr. Kim?” 

His face falls, and his cheeks taint with a pink blush that makes you instantly regret your words, not wanting the good mood of his to disappear.

“I'm kidding!” you nudge him playfully on his side, “besides you're actually quite handsome when you smile.”

His head snaps up at you then, his lips tugging up at the corners but his eyes are unreadable, something in them you couldn't quite put your finger on, but it made your stomach flip just the same.

"In all seriousness, how did you do it?" you ask into the silence, acutely aware of the touch of his arm on yours, as you walk side by side down the row of shops.

“Do what?”

“Get my dad to like you.”

Hearing a slight huff from him before his face falls again, “I tried to do what you said.”

Why on earth would he ever listen to you, that would definitely be a first?

“You tried not to be yourself?” you reply sarcastically, trying to lighten the mood again.

“Yeah.”

Hearing the sadness in his tone, you immediately chastise yourself. The silence fills the air, thick and heavy like a quilt of loneliness, enveloping the two of you. Attempting to think of a million things to say to ease the tension, you don't really trust yourself to speak anymore, until you hear him mumble, "I haven't always been like this."

Looking over at him, your gaze meets puppy dog eyes and for once, you're at a loss for words. Your big, bad boss suddenly doesn't seem so scary anymore. But just as you take a breath to ask him about his statement, his attention is drawn into the shop behind you.

“I need to grab a new deodorant, I'll just be a minute.” And he rushes in, not meeting your eyes again. You wander over to the next shop, a bakery, glancing at the pastries in the window. The thought of apple pie for dessert crosses your mind, when a familiar voice halts you and glues your feet to the floor, “Y/n?”

Suddenly, your stomach feels full of rocks, weighing you down and making acid rise up into your throat. Forcing yourself to face him, you turn to see none other than your ex-boyfriend. Kim Seokjin.

“I thought that was you.” He continues, eyes roaming over you, in a way that makes your skin crawl, “You look amazing.”

Snapping your jaw shut, in hopes of not embarrassing yourself by starting a fight in the middle of this tiny town and airing your past dirty laundry. 

“What are you doing back in town?” he adds, smiling arrogantly, “we should have coffee and catch up like old times, I–”

“Sorry to have kept you waiting, my love.” Mr Kim’s voice next to you soothes you instantly and makes you feel calmer, as does the arm he winds possessively around your waist. “Are you ready to go?” he asks, placing a gentle kiss on your temple. You can't help but stiffen slightly at the action but something about the way his lips feel against your skin, wants you to close your eyes and lean into it.

“Hi there,” Seokjin interrupts awkwardly. “I’m Jin, I'm y/n’s ex, I'm sure she's mentioned me.” The cockiness in his tone makes you want to puke, and wonder what you ever saw in him. He holds his hand out for Taehyung to shake, to which he pointedly ignores, much to your amusement.

“Taehyung, y/n’s fiancé.” he subtly exaggerates, “and no, she hasn't mentioned you before.” He looks down at you, “was Joon here, one of your more serious boyfriends you told me about?”

Catching on to what he's doing, and knowing Seokjin will hate every moment, you dive right in with the ruse. “Not at all.” you respond, laughing and placing a hand on Taehyung's chest.

Seokjin’s jaw clenches. “It's Jin.” 

Biting the inside of your cheeks to hold your smile at bay and unable to help the way your chest swells with pride in making him feel uncomfortable. Paybacks one hell of a bitch.

“Sorry Jae, I guess you weren't memorable enough to make the roster.”

Seokjin laughs darkly then, turning your stomach, knowing the real him is about to make himself known.

“I think you'll find, y/n won't ever be able to forget me. You see, I, was her first. I'm ingrained in her mind, whether she likes it or not.”

You tense at Taehyung's side but he only squeezes you reassuringly and pulls you closer to him. Fury rises up inside you, as your hands ball into fists. The overwhelming need to punch him in the face threatening to take over. 

You're transported back to a time of a sweet, handsome Seokjin flirting and charming his way into your life. He pursued you for eight months before you fell for him and gave yourself to him. Losing your virginity and regretting it instantly. 

The very next morning he turned cold and distant, calling you awful names, making you feel embarrassed and ugly. From that point on you hated yourself and it had been a long road to recover from your insecurities after that. Especially, when you found out he'd only been interested in you as part of a bet with his friends. Taking your virginity, that was the wager and the odds were unfortunately in his favour.

The very next day the entire town knew, with Seokjin spreading many lies about you to your peers from college, much to your dismay and heartbreak. You would never forgive him for what he did, or how he made you feel, but seeing him again, showed you how far you'd come since then.

“And yet, a much more important and impressionable first, is the first time someone makes you come, am I right?” Taehyung's voice is lower and sounding darker than usual, “And I think we both know that it's definitely not you who holds that title.”

Your mouth almost pops open in shock. How would Taehyung even know that information? The only person who knows it is you.

Seokjin's face reddens, his eyes emblazoned with anger, looking like he will explode right in front of you. “Yeah, well, she was awful anyway, had to think about somebody else just to make it through.” he takes a slight step towards you. “Y/n wasn't pretty back then, a little chubby and frumpy. I only dated her out of pity.”

The fury inside rose up and out of your mouth before you could stop it, “funny that, as I remember you whimpering my name as you came, after all of about thirty seconds. I barely had a chance to feel anything. Well,” you glance down at his crotch, “not that there's much to feel there.”

Seokjin's whole face turns a dark shade of pink. “You're still the same little slut, you've always been.” he spits. The words barely have time to get past his lips before Taehyung had his hand around his face in a death grip. Shoving him against the store window.

“If I hear y/n’s name leave your mouth again,” Taehyung's voice sounds deadly, “I will rip these swollen lips off and shove them down your throat. Do you understand?”

Seokjin looks at you alarmed and you have to cut your eyes away to try and quell the anger burning inside you. That's when you notice your parents watching, your mother taking a tentative step towards the scene and your dad, smiling with his arms crossed. 

“Don't look at y/n!” Taehyung spits, it's the first time he’s sounded out of control, “don't you ever look at her again, you worthless piece of shit. Now, are. we. clear?” 

Seokjin nods, panicked.

“Apologise to y/n and you'll be on your way.” Taehyung releases his face with a thrust, almost tripping him up.

“S-sorry y/n. I'm sorry.” he walks away quickly; head down and avoids everyone's gaze. Until he disappears quickly around the corner.

The adrenaline still pumps ferociously through your body but the thrill you feel overwhelms you. Elation bubbles up inside you as you spin to Taehyung, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him to you. Squealing with excitement, you tighten your hold on him. His body stiffens for a brief moment before he's suddenly lifting you off the ground, laughing at your reaction. You have never heard him laugh before and the sound is intoxicating. Leaning back slightly to watch him, noses almost touching as you're face to face. His expression turns serious, eyes suddenly intense. Overwhelmed with so many emotions, you have no idea which one to follow first but the way your stomach flutters with growing butterflies does not escape your attention. 

“Your parents are watching…” he says, as he slowly lowers you back to the ground.

You'd forgotten about them, but inspiration strikes. Removing your arms from around him but keep your body close to his. “You should kiss me, then.”

He raises a questioning eyebrow.

“It will make our relationship more believable.” you add, stating facts but if you are completely honest with yourself, it has nothing to do with keeping up a ruse. You just really want to know what his lips feel like against yours.

“Are you sure?” he whispers, eyes focused on your mouth and already leaning in. All you can do is nod, as you wait eagerly with anticipation.

His hands on your back, encasing you and pulling you closer, as he limits the distance between you. When his mouth touches yours, you momentarily forget how to breathe, as his warm, soft lips enchant you. He moves them slowly against yours and a surprising hunger blossoms inside, snapping you out of your trance, leading you to eagerly return the dance. Your hands stay firmly against the hard planes of his chest, fingertips pressing desperately against his skin. The gentle kiss deepens and there's an urgency from him that you didn't expect. But before you're ready, he pulls away, breathing fast, leaning his forehead against yours.

“Sorry.” He says, quietly and when you pull away you notice the dusting of pink across his cheeks. 

“What are you sorry for?”

He shrugs, stepping slightly away from you, “for getting carried away.”

“Don't apologise, I'm not sorry.” you can't help the flirtatious lilt in your voice. His lips turn up into a sideways smirk so sexy you have to force yourself to look away. This afternoon has made you feel dizzy with exhilaration and confusion is muddling your brain.

“I guess I should explain.” you say, feeling embarrassed about sharing the story of Jin.

“No pressure, whenever you're ready.” he says simply, with an understanding that surprises you. “But I think I get it.”

You nod, mulling that over, you would tell him more but not right now, in the middle of this town and under prying eyes. You'd both caused enough of a spectacle.

“Alright, let's go macho man.”

He laughs as he falls in step beside you. “You know, they had no brand names I recognised in that shop.”

“That's because it's an organic shop, Taehyung, the owner makes everything herself.”

His face drops, mouth popping open in shock. “Organic deodorant, no wonder it smells like the woods.”

Giggling, you head back home with your parents, ready to eat dinner and feeling the most comfortable since you arrived.

[carlottawllms]

Back With You

Mason Mount x Reader Fluff Word Count: 2.2K

This one for my blurbs was requested by my love @mountttmase and I absolutely loved writing it! Thank you for trusting me with it <3

Enjoy <3 And as always, feedback is very much appreciated.

You hated being unable to attend games. Especially away games where you had to wait another night to have Mason back with you. It wasn’t so much the fact that you had to be without him – although you hated that too – but the knowledge that win or loss you couldn’t be there for him.

And this time it felt significantly worse. You’d been sick over the last week and a half, a nasty flu that hadn’t made the impression of going away soon had kept you tied to the bed and although you’d felt a lot better the moment everyone had left to follow the team, you hadn’t been well enough to make the long way down to the southern parts of England.

For a good 30 minutes you’d been mired in self-pity and shed some tears, but then you'd picked yourself up again, knowing Mason would scold you for crying over this. He’d reassured you hundreds of times that he wasn’t mad or disappointed or anything like it, but instead would be less worried about you if you just stayed in the warmth of your shared house.

You’d curled up on the sofa, a warm tea to cure your sore throat in your hands and a fluffy blanket wrapped around your body as you’d watched Mason playing one of the best games of his career. And with a goal and an assist in tonight’s brilliant game, he’d very much helped the team to reach the semi-finals.

At the beginning he’d had his difficulties to convince some fans of his abilities because not all of them were visible in stats, but you’d never been worried. It just took a bit of time to settle into a new team and environment, that was normal, and you’d known Mason fit into the system perfectly.

It made you incredibly proud to see him on the pitch, a bright smile on his face as he clapped the fans who’d made the journey to support them, and your heart threatened to burst in your chest when as Erik came by to hug your boyfriend.

While waiting for his reply, you got up from the sofa and tidied up a little before going upstairs to get ready for bed. You were determined to stay up and wait for him as you knew they’d be on their way back straight after everyone had showered and you expected him back by around 2:30am, so staying up wasn’t that big of a deal, especially as you were still off sick for the whole week.  

But after brushing your teeth, putting on a sleep shirt and getting under the warm sheets of your bed, it didn’t take more than 20 minutes for the lingering flu to take a toll on you. You grew tired quickly, eyes heavy and constantly falling shut and not even your new Netflix obsession ‘New Amsterdam’ could keep you from drifting in and out of sleep.

When Mason entered your shared home, he tried to be extra quiet. Knowing you, you’d probably tried to stay awake on the sofa although he’d told you like ten times not to, but when he came into the living room, he found you’d apparently listened to him as all the lights were switched off and the sofa empty.  

He’d stopped counting the many times you’d fallen asleep on the comfortable, but not sleep-suitable sofa and carried you to bed. Of course, he didn’t mind as the thought of you trying to wait for him made his tummy all mushy, but he hated how you put yourself through the pain of sleeping on the sofa for a couple of hours.

Leaving his bag and everything he didn’t need downstairs to be put away for later that day, he jogged up the stairs as he couldn’t wait to see your face. He hadn’t been away for too long and the both of you were used to him being away from time to time, but that didn’t mean he liked it any better.

And this time leaving you had felt worse. You’d tried to convince him of the opposite, but you’d still been poorly the moment he’d had to leave two days ago and although you’d kill him if you knew, the thought of you being sick had kept sleep away from him. It was just a flu, but Mason was a worrier and this habit only got worse when it was about people he cared about deeply. And you were one of those people.

As he opened the door to your shared bedroom quietly and his gaze fell on the scene in front of him, his heart leaped in his chest.

You were sleeping peacefully, curled up on his side of the bed and face smushed into the pillow. The sheet pulled up to your nose prevented him from taking a better look at your face, but even from far away and you half-hidden in the pillow he could tell, that you looked better than when he’d left.

By the looks of it – the tv on the wall still playing your favourite series and the remote on top of the sheets – you’d tried to stay up and wait for him. Mason shook his head with a fond smile on his lips. You were unbelievable and he couldn’t believe he got to call you his.

He quickly turned the tv off and put the remote away before stripping himself down to his boxers and brushing his teeth as fast as he could. He was tired and wanted nothing more than to get into bed with you, but when he eventually snug under the covers, he didn’t dare to reach out and hold you properly in fear of waking you up. You looked a lot better than two days ago, but you still needed the sleep so a barely there kiss to your forehead had to do.  

But as if you’d sensed he was back, you shuffled in your sleep, searching for his warmth and proximity and Mason very carefully wrapped his arms around you. He felt your deep sigh as you snuggled into his chest, face very much pressed into the crook of his neck and with a kiss on top of your head, he closed his eyes.

“Sleep tight, I love you.”, he whispered before he was off to the land of dreams.

-

Your sleepy brain needed a moment to understand what was happening and why you were half on top of a naked upper body with a heavy arm across your waist holding you in place, but then it dawned on you.

Your favourite person was back home.

You stayed still for a while, simply enjoying the moment of being back in his embrace and surrounded by his familiar scent. It hadn’t been more than two days, but you’d missed him like crazy – the sickness having made you a bit more clingy and needy than you normally were – and after two nights of sleeping by yourself, being held by him again felt like heaven.

Allowing yourself to take him in whilst he was still slumbering peacefully, you pulled away a little, careful to avoid disturbing him and smiled.

This was the version of him you probably loved most. Not because he was asleep and couldn’t be a pain in your ass, but because this was the version only you got to see. You were the only one to share a bed with him and look at him when his hair was tousled, his lashes fanned over the tops of his freckled cheeks and when his lips were slightly parted.

Yesterday, he’d been this incredibly talented footballer, who’d scored and assisted to help his team through to the semis and right now he was just Mason. Nothing more, than a young man who meant the absolute world to you.  

Gently, you stroked the warm skin of his cheek with the back of your fingers and watched how his lips pulled into the tiniest smile in his sleep. He was yours and sometimes you couldn’t comprehend just how that was possible.

You knew you shouldn’t wake him up as he’d come back late, but you couldn’t wait any longer to tell him how proud you were and how happy to have him back and how much you loved him.

With your fingers, you traced the freckles on his cheeks and nose, right down to his lips where you followed the soft curve of his cupid’s bow and right when you were about to continue, you felt him shift a little. His brows furrowed as he wrinkled his nose, seemingly tickled by the gentle touch of your finger.

“Morning.”, you whispered as you buried your hand in his soft hair.

You probably should’ve given him a little more time but the pout on his face was too cute to hold back so you simply leaned in and pressed your mouth against his. Mason was still half-asleep, but he just about managed to reciprocate the soft kiss.

“What a way to start the day.” His voice was a little raspy and full of sleep and he struggled a bit to get used to the brightness of the room, but it was all worth it when he was met with your beautiful face. “Morning.”

Your tummy flipped when his warm brown eyes met yours. He looked tired and you felt a little guilty for waking him up, but you’d missed him too much not to.

“You were staring at me. That’s creepy you know?”, he groaned, but you knew he didn’t mean it.

“Well, I can’t help it. You’re just a very pretty man, Mason Tony Mount.”, you grinned before you pressed another kiss to his lips. “And I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, baby.” Mason was quick in pushing his hand beneath your shirt, warm fingers spreading over your skin as he caressed your back. “Very much.”

“You were so good yesterday. You were everywhere on that pitch, you fought so hard for the team and then you got to score that beautiful goal…Mase, I am so incredibly proud of you, you know?”

You cupped his jaw with your hand, thumb gently stroking right beneath his eye as you watched him blush.

“But I’m not just proud because of that game or that goal, Mase. So much has happened throughout the last months and I know it was difficult and painful and I know how much it has taken you to find the courage to choose what’s best for you in the chaos Chelsea created, but you’ve always stayed true to who you are. This kind, humble and loving person everyone knows and loves.”

Mason’s heart threatened to burst his ribcage from how it was thundering in his chest. He’d known you were proud as you kept telling him, but you’d never been this specific and until now he’d never realised just how much he’d needed to hear those words. To hear someone tell him that he was still the Mason he was before all the drama and the chaos, to hear someone tell him that nothing had really changed, although everything had.

To hear you out of all people tell him that because although it sounded like the most ridiculous thing in the world after everything you’d done for him, he’d constantly carried this worry with him, the worry of having disappointed you.

“Thank you.”, he whispered, not trusting his voice enough to speak up. “I just…thank you.”

You could spot the vulnerability in his eyes, the pure and utter love shining in them and the relief of something bigger than you could ever imagine.

“I am so proud that I can call you mine, that I get to wear your name on my back and share all those beautiful memories with you and I hope you know that.”, you smiled. “Whenever I see you walking out on that pitch or giving an interview or when just your name is mentioned somewhere, I just want to scream it for the world to hear. I am so so proud of you, Mase and I love you so much.”

Mason had never been a man of big words, but at that moment he was too overwhelmed to say anything at all. So, he did what he did best: Showing his love with physical affection.

He wrapped his arms around you tightly, eyes firmly locked on yours until he closed them and brushed his lips against yours, kissing you gently and full of love and in a way that said more than words ever could.

“I love you, y/n. You’re everything I’ll ever need.”, he whispered against your lips. “I love you so much, thank you for always being by my side.”

And with that, he kissed you again. Sealing his unspoken promise of never leaving you.

—————

I genuinely hope you enjoyed reading this. You would make my day if you left a little feedback so I can see what you liked and what I can improve on 🩷

[pearwaldorf]

Thinking about the fatalism that has inevitably emerged after yesterday's events, and how angry it makes me. Nothing about Trump has changed a goddamn iota since somebody tried to kill him. He's still the same old shitstain who's intent on tearing down the rest of this country he didn't get to last time.

The best way to legally depress voter turnout is to make people feel like there's no point in voting. When people turn out in numbers, Democrats tend to win.

And there still is a fucking point. I know it doesn't really make as much news as it should, but a Biden administration has genuinely made people's lives better. None of it gets publicized well because it's not sexy, but not being able to report medical debt to credit bureaus? $35 insulin? Cracking down on robocalls? The climate stuff in the giant infrastructure bill? All of this is important quality of life shit.

Certainly nothing is at the level it should be, but some of us old farts have stories about how much worse it was before, and why we would absolutely not go back. And I'm real fucking sorry that change isn't happening at the rate any of us want, but it's not nothing.

In philosophy, there is a concept called Pascal's Wager, which says a rational person should believe in God because the rewards are amazing if God exists, and the losses are small if God doesnt.

Obviously voting still takes effort, but I think it's effort that won't be wasted regardless of the outcome. Now you know what to do for next time! You've learned a little about your local politicians! For the states where you have to vote in person, it's a little more inconvenient, but check if early voting is available in your area.

And if (god forbid) the worst happens, you still tried. You didn't take it as a given he would win. Brazil has mandatory voting, and despite having the button RIGHT FUCKING THERE between Bolsonaro and Lula, more people chose to opt out than do the thing that would have an actual effect. That's so fucked up.

I know that people get frustrated and vote for things that represent their feelings as opposed to actual rational consequences. And this literally kills people.

I don't think it's too much to expect people to put in a bit of time and effort into something that will yield such important results if it's successful. If you need help registering to vote or a ride to the polls, it is available.

[cher-rei]

hey could u do a comfort fic with trent alexander arnold where he’s maybe read stuff on the internet about him that are very hateful and the reader comforts him

reflection— [ T.A.A ]

but I love that man like nobody can [how to disappear- lana del rey]

pairing: trent alexander arnold x fem!reader

summary: after his injury, comments start to flood trent's mind and you want nothing more than to make sure he knows that they aren't true.

genre(s): established relationship, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff

[wc: 2.3k] masterlist

notes: while I'm writing this I can't stop thinking about cody and the amount of hate he's getting because of the united match. he's human too and the fact that people are going to his instragram and commenting the most horrible things about him and telling him to leave the club genuinely hurts my heart because he's so sweet and doesn't deserve any of this. it's normal for footballers to make mistakes and they have their bad days, but putting them down isn't going to make the situation any better. we're supposed to be supporting the team and not blaming individuals for a loss </3

it's strange how the people that swear that they're a clubs supporter can switch up on players over something as minuscule as missing a goal or losing a tackle. it's the way players get dragged for making human mistakes, but because of the pedestals they're put on it adds even more pressure.

the comparing of players, telling them to leave their clubs and so much more pile up on the list of hate they get. no matter how good of a footballer you were there was always going to hate thrown your way, chipping away at your self esteem ever so slowly.

trent was headstrong, he knew who he was and hardly took harsh comments and criticism to heart. it was one of the many things you admired about your boyfriend, the way that he was able to be better and prove people wrong so effortlessly.

but he was only human after all, and it was bound to get to him at some point. it was after his first match back after injury that everything happened. he acquired the knee injury against arsenal in january, recalling the exact moment you saw him limping and biting his jersey to ease the pain.

you were in the stands obviously, worried sick but he wasn't subbed off for whatever reason. while everyone was rejoicing the win you couldn't bring yourself to forget about his knee, immediately rushing to the tunnel so you could see him.

trent swore that he was fine but you were absolutely furious that he still played the full 90 minutes instead of asking for the medics to at least check up on him. that was water undet the bridge however, and he was put off for three weeks but even then you felt that it was too little recovery time.

and you were right of course but he was eager to be on the pitch again. you couldn't pass judgement there because of course he missed playing, he felt horrible for being at home and not having any way to contribute to the teams victories. so when they gave him the green light for the match against burnley he was ecstatic.

and you were happy for him, but that didn't push your worry to the back of your mind. and then it went south when he was subbed off before half time because he wasn't playing at his best. the entire time he was on the bench he was silent, his thoughts running wild and his heart heavy with disappointment.

you were watching the match from home so you immediate reaction was to message him, his dull responses taking shots at your heart.

when he got home that evening your heart shattered seeing him look so beaten up. all he did was drop his bags and come to lay with you on the couch, his head resting on your chest while you reassured him that everything was going to be fine.

trent barely spoke a word to you until the following afternoon when he got back from his physio assessment, in an even worse state than when he left. he was limping, his head hung low and motivation to do anything at its lowest.

you knew that he just needed some time alone before you tackled the situation, so you gave him his necessary space until he was ready to talk. but then the evening came when his side of the bed was empty, and when you checked your phone you were even more surprised to see that it was only 2 a.m.

you got out of bed in panic, immediately rushing downstairs to look for trent but all the lights were off. he wasn't in the kitchen, the living room or even in the backyard. by now your thoughts were running wild, shear panic settling on your chest until you heard the front door unlock.

trent walked in, his lips pursed. "why are you awake?" he took a few steps closer to you, confusion settling on his face. "do you know what time it is?"

a dry scoff left your lips in disbelief. "I could ask you the same thing."

he went silent, not knowing what to say except apologise but you were fed up. you gave him his space and kept your worry to yourself, not wanting to make him feel any worse than he already did but your patience wore thin.

your expression hardened at the recollection of how distant he'd been the past week. "talk to me. please."

"there's nothing to talk about, I'm fine--"

"--that's absolute bullshit." your tone was harsh and it took him by surprise because you rarely raised your voice at anyone, let alone him.

he took a few weary steps closer only to see the tears walking up in your eyes. oh shit, what has he done?

"no baby, why are you crying?" he asked soothingly and pulled you into his embrace, his hands gently stroking your back in comfort. his heart sunk at the few sniffles from your side, he couldn't believe that his injury had you crying.

you tightened your arms around his torso, an overwhelming feeling of hurt washing over you the more he comforted you. "because you're hurt."

he sighed. "and I'm getting better. the recovery is going well, honey."

you shook your head against his chest. "I'm not talking about your knee trent." you finally pulled away to look up at him with teary eyes, which didn't make him feel any better.

"I know you read the comments, and I know that you're taking them to heart this time but--" you swallowed the bile in your throat, the mere thought of all the hurtful comments having you sick to your stomach. "--but you're not talking to me about it and it makes me feel horrible because they're not true."

trent's heart had just been shattered to pieces, his lips parted in shock because you knew him so damn well. he had been reading the comments, and at first it didn't mean much but the more they came about, the harder it was to push it aside.

honestly the worse 45 minutes anyone had played this season. trent has exited his prime and it's showing.

this is who you guys call the best right back in the league?? have you seen that match against burnley? kyle walker over this dude any day.

he was good until he wasn't. sorry not sorry.

I'm sorry what was that play?? all he had to do was keep the ball for more than 2 seconds. this guy is a joke.

nah get this man out of my club, I can't anymore.

trent my man this is burnley we're talking about. what are you doing??

he's seen it all. and for the first time in years he let the negative comments get to him even though he knew better. and now here you were, standing in front of him teary eyed in the middle of the night because he wasn't man enough to talk to you— his own damn girlfriend.

a heavy sigh disturbed the silence and that was an indicator to you that he was ready to talk. he took your hand and lead you to the couch, making sure that you were settled down comfortably in front of him.

"you know when we played city the away fans were yelling at me when I went to take the corner," he began with a half hearted laugh. "apparently I'm a shit kyle walker."

your grip tightened on his hand instinctively, but you remained silent and listened to him express his concerns and thoughts on the entire ordeal. he brushed the kyle walker thing off and said that he found it rather amusing instead of hurtful.

"but after the arsenal game when I hurt my knee something just snapped I guess. and you were so worried when I got home too so I just wanted to get better because I don't want you to panic over my injuries."

a lump formed in your throat, the tears resurfacing but trent was quick to wipe them away. "and now people are saying that I played like absolute shit against burnley," he shook his head. "which is true by the way."

this was were you grew defensive. "you just came back from injury of course you weren't going to be in the best shape trent."

his eyebrows raised for a moment, a soft chuckle leaving his lips but you didn't find it funny at all. "ever since this whole thing you've been saying my name an awful lot."

that was surprisingly true. you were upset so of course you weren't going to call him something endearing. you were upset!

you cocked you head to the side, a judgemental look on your face that trent didn't want to worsen so he carried on talking. you weren't going to bed until he had everything out.

"anyway," he chuckled. "I've just been feeling really anxious and self conscious because what if they're telling the truth you know? like okay I score goals and I play well but what if that's just me thinking that?"

his breathing had begun to pick up and you were quick to notice, and alarm going off in your mind and telling you that he was nearing tears. trent groaned in frustration and shut his eyes in attempt to push the tears back.

he bent over to put his hands on his knees to try and calm himself down before you started crying as well. your hand was running up and down his back soothingly, only for him to get back up and take refuge in your arms.

everything was finally starting to pool out, and it broke you knowing that he felt this way and hadn't spoken to you because he didn't want you to worry. the dark living room was filled with his silent sobs that you tried to ease until your own started to fall.

you shut your eyes and held trent as close to you as possible, your shirt slightly wet because of his tears. you wondered how the other players felt when something similar happened to them, if they broke down in their partners' arms as well.

it wasn't easy for them to welcome the vulnerability you assumed— especially if it were over something like hate comments. but it was difficult and they were only trying their best.

"It's okay if you cry, baby. there's no need to apologise," you hushed when he said sorry. "It's normal to feel this way, you're human too and I can't tell you not to let those things get to your head but they're not true."

his silent sobs came to a subtle halt but his head remained on your shoulder as he listened to you speak so softly, telling him that everything was okay.

"you know what you're capable of so don't let anyone tell you what you can and can't do. as long as you know that you have people who support you and are rooting for you, nothing else should matter," you retorted reassuringly in hopes that it would help him realise that he didn't have to worry about things he couldn't control.

it was out of his hands, he lead the arsenal match in pain like a proper leader and that showed immense strength. instead of giving up he pulled through and made sure that the team was at their best before thinking about himself.

you put a small kiss to his temple. "I'm so proud of you. every single waking moment of every day, no matter what happens— I will always be proud of you for doing what you can."

this made trent smile when he finally got up to look at you with glossy eyes. "really?"

you nodded eagerly. "you breathe and I want to scream 'that's my boyfriend'."

that got a laugh out of him and he felt his heart strings tug. he loved you so much for standing by his side no matter what, for being patient and for just being you. he was grateful beyond comprehension and sometimes he felt that he didn't express his love for you the correct amount.

you deserved so much and here you were comforting him at the dead of night because he got insecure. his heart was overflowing just for you.

trent put his hand on your cheek and wiped away the stray tear that fell. "I'm sorry for making you worry. if I do it again just kick me out."

you laughed and his heart exploded. "oh, definitely. pull a stunt like this again and I'll feed you to the wolves."

his eyes widened a fraction. "okay, that's a bit too far."

you disagreed wholeheartedly and told him that it was the only correct form of punishment for the heart attacks that he gave you. "my heart broke like five times in this past week trent, so no."

he hummed and leant in for a kiss. "I'll fix it again I promise."

you felt yourself melt at the touch of his lips on yours— a tender kiss that held so much sincerity and love, an apology slipping through along with a silent I love you.

he pulled away and took a moment to look at you, drinking in every bit of your presence silently to which you hit him on the arm, a giddy smile and blush having you weak in the knees whereas he was mesmerised, not even realising that you had been trying to get his attention for a bit.

"earth to trent," you called and waved your hand in front of your face but he quickly caught it and pulled you closer to him, a yelp leaving your mouth before laughing.

"call me 'trent' one more time and we're going to have a problem," he said through a smile but you just played along, finding it amusing.

"oh really?" your tone was playful and he wasn't having any of it. "well trent wouldn't-- ah!"

your boyfriend had you lying on the couch in a fit of giggles, him hovering over you as he tickled you but stopping every so often to litter kisses on your face which you weren't fighting at all. because everyone needed a little love, right?

[hyukasmiles]

frat boy txt who saw u from far away at a party and knew they had to have you

—Tomorrow x Together—

Description: This is just the older members. I will probs do Tae + Hyuka’s version

Fem Reader

Warnings: NSFW// virginity loss// unprotected sex// oral (f)// sex in public spaces// NOT PROOFREAD

—

•Yeonjun•

Frat Boy! Yeonjun is the WORST. And not in a funny way- no he’s horrible. The type to haze freshman pledges and dare drunk guys to jump off a five story building.

Frat Boy! Yeonjun who sees you slip into his house party behind your friends and pulls the first guy he can to the side, “I bet you a hundred dollars I’ll fuck her tonight.” The man laughs him off, telling him you’re a notorious prude. “You mean like she’s saving herself for marriage? Two hundred.”

Frat Boy! Yeonjun who slips his arm over your shoulder and gets to work. He spends the whole night complimenting you, handing you drink after drink, slowly dropping his hand down your body until it’s resting on your hips.

Frat Boy! Yeonjun who gets you halfway to his room before you start to push back on him. “Hold on- I’m saving myself.” You pout.

Frat Boy! Yeonjun who was prepared for this, pushing you up against the wall. “I thought we really hit it off babe… I was hoping to see you again after tonight… You don’t like me? Cause I like you.” He's saying so much to you and your brain is so fuzzy from all the drinks that you find yourself nodding along.

Frat Boy! Yeonjun who beams at you as you mumble., “You really like me?” He nods and leans in to leave a soft peck on your lips. “Sure thing, angel.” You bite your lip and lean against the wall. “Ok.”

Frat Boy! Yeonjun who wastes no time getting you in his bed, slipping your dress down your body as he pushes you into his mattress.

Frat Boy! Yeonjun who’s surprisingly loving. He kisses down your body, leaving little bites and hickeys in wake. You part your legs for him so easily and he fits in between them even easier.

Frat Boy! Yeonjun who doesn’t think to prep you. “This is still ok?” And when you nod he lines himself up and sinks in with a groan. You suck in a breath at the stretch, eyes watering as you try your hardest not to whine. “You gotta relax, sweet thing.” He breaths while trying to shove the rest of him into your tight cunt.

Frat Boy! Yeonjun who almost cums when he finally bottoms out, which is weird- he’s never been sensitive like this. You look up at him with doey eyes, a mix of excitement and fear knits your eyebrows together and leaves your mouth agape.

Frat Boy! Yeonjun who fucks your goey cunt so good, makes you gush around him as he drills into you. “I’m gonna make you feel so good.” He breathes, lifting one of your legs up and resting it on his shoulder. “You’ll always compare guys to me after this right?” He leans in to kiss you on the cheek, stretching you open in the process. “I gotta be good then.”

Frat Boy! Yeonjun who does make you feel so good. He makes you feel- eyes roll back into your head, toes curling, drool slipping out of your mouth- good and you love it. And so does he.

Frat Boy! Yeonjun who cums inside of you because he knows you won’t tell him no, ready to go get his money and dump you off on one of your friends but then he takes a step back and looks at you sprawled out on his bed and part of him loves it. A large part.

•Soobin•

Frat Boy! Soobin who was just dumped and doesn’t want to be at this party because he knows his ex will be here, and he knows she’ll be all over some rando, and that she’ll make sure he sees her. But he comes any because the only thing worse than letting her do that is giving her the satisfaction of winning.

Frat Boy! Soobin who has a plan. He just needs to find some hot girl to attach to for the night, give his ex a taste of her own medicine, and when he sees you walk in he knows it’s going to be you. You’re perfect, way prettier than his ex and more importantly, her friend.

Frat Boy! Soobin who walks up to you, grabs you by the wrist, and pulls you into the less crowded backyard. “What are you doing, Soobin?” You laugh and the sound is so pretty he almost forgets what he’s trying to do. He can see his ex in his peripheral vision, sitting on one of his classmates' laps. “I need your help.” He mumbles, grabbing your hips and pulling you toward him. “You gotta act like you’re really into me.” He leaves a ghost of a kiss on the corner of your mouth. “My girlfriend broke up with me, I wanna make her jealous.”

Frat Boy! Soobin who’s surprised when you wrap your arms around his neck, sure you we're going to push him away by now. “She’s a major bitch.” You laugh, “Y’know what will really get her? Eat me out in the bathroom, I’ll make sure she sees.”

Frat Boy! Soobin who agrees to it. No questions asked. He actually pulls you toward the bathroom. He doesn’t care how you’re going to show her, he just wants it to happen.

Frat Boy! Soobin who pushes you against the wall tile and sinks to his knee. He pushes your skirt up your body and actually licks his lips when he sees the wet patch forming your underwear. He kisses your clit through the pink cotton and then slips them down to your knees, hard in his pants as he dives in.

Frat Boy! Soobin who is great at eating pussy, sucks on your clit and draws light circles on your opening. He has your legs shaking as you grab your phone, snapping a couple pictures of him and sending them off to his bitch of an ex. By the time they’re delivered your knees are starting to buckles. You twist to grab onto the sink next you, moaning as he laps at your cunt.

Frat Boy! Soobin who hears the bathroom door fling open, and his ex yelling at him but he can’t stop, he wants you to cum. He feels something hit his back and the door slams and all he does is grab onto your legs to keep you up right. Your thankful for the extra support, you cannot believe his ex broke up with someone this good at head.

Frat Boy! Soobin who sinks two fingers into you and whines when you pull at his hair in response. “You’re so good at this!” You whine, hunching over as he gets you closer and closer. “So good.”

Frat Boy! Soobin who whines at your words, sending shocks of pleasure up your body, finally pushing you over the edge. “She saw?” He mumbles, knowing the answer just not wanting to leave. “You’re sure?” He kisses your thigh when you nod, still out of breath.

Frat Boy! Soobin who moves to stand up but you push down on his head while he does. He looks up at you confused- but then you spread your legs a little wider and mumble “better we’re both sure.” and he’s back in your cunt before you can finish speaking.

•Beomgyu•

Frat Boy! Beomgyu who is loud and always doing something stupid. Unless of course you’re at the party, then he’s loud and glued to your side. “Hey baby.” He’s so excited to see you, wrapping you up in a hug. “Did you finish studying?” All his friends sigh and leave, knowing how this will end.

Frat Boy! Beomgyu who any other night would be taking bets on whether or not he can do a keg stand, but when you take time from studying to come to a party his whole world becomes about you. “Are you tired? Do you wanna leave?” He mumbles, kissing you softly. “I know you have that test tomorrow.” You just smile and pull him in for another kiss. “I’m ok, baby, I’m here to party, you don’t need to do all of this.” You say the same thing every time but he can’t help it.

Frat Boy! Beomgyu whose behavior is such a 180 that the freshman boys start asking him if he’s got a headache or something. “No, I just miss my girl.”

Frat Boy! Beomgyu who is usually the last person to leave parties, most of the time he stays over whatever pledges house it is, but when you’re stood in front of him looking so pretty all he wants to do is go back to your dorm and fuck you. He makes it well known too, grabbing your hand and pressing it against his hard on multiple times throughout the night.

Frat Boy! Beomgyu who can only wait so long, pulling you into a dark corner of the empty laundry room. “I gotta fuck you baby.” He whines, picking you up and setting you on the washer. “I know.” You reply, spreading your legs for him.

Frat Boy! Beomgyu who always fucks best like this, rushed and as quiet as possible, even if it’s impossible for him to be quiet. His thrusts are deep and strong, broken whines spilling out of your mouth as he plays with your puffy clit. He goes as far as to press a hand over your mouth even if he’s the one who’s making all the noise.

Frat Boy! Beomgyu who gives you a mind shattering orgasm and goes back to the party like nothing happened. Except now he’s pumped up, going back to being as loud as usual, grabbing the first person he sees and betting them he can shotgun a beer faster. All while you sit crumpled on the couch trying to ignore the cum dripping down your thigh.

—-

Inbox always open 🫶

[altschmerzes]

I want to hear about your fics. Tell me about your wips. What are you working on now. What's got you really excited?

OOOOOOOO YOU HAVE UNLEASHED ME, MY FRIEND...

the thing about me that i'm sure you will have noticed by now if you've spent more than five minutes on my blog or in my general company is that i am always working on five hundred projects at once. this is not... like, great, so to speak for my ability to consistently finish one thing but i don't know how much steam i'd be able to maintain if i wasn't constantly playing hopscotch with projects so like. win some lose some?

anyways. i have five hundred projects always. right now i would say the ones i am working on with the greatest degree of dedication/effort, in terms of Major Projects at least and not just like. oneshots here and there are wriggle up on dry land (baby jamie ted lasso fic), history rhymes (ted lasso fic centred on sexual trauma), loneliness into loneliness (the qpr two aces fic and its associated concepts), and the newest of the bunch that i don't think i've really talked about, which is titled 'drive the wedge' (from the tmg song 'heel turn 2'). here is a needlessly thorough explanation of THAT fic. the short version is, in the excellent words of my friend @cartwrong, "Thought River had a bad time in s4? Its about to get to worse."

drive the wedge is a slow horses fic wherein at the end of 4x05, patrice abducts river at gunpoint and when he does so he doesn't drive him to that cafe to meet with frank. instead, patrice takes river to a remote, isolated manor where frank is waiting for them.

it goes downhill from there.

the horses do not see or hear from river again for almost five months. during that time, frank does his level best to break river and rebuild him into a soldier, into a weapon worth using. this... doesn't really work. in fact, the process ends up breaking not river, but patrice, who watches his father torture the only brother he has left until he can't take watching it anymore.

meanwhile, slough house is on overdrive trying to find a missing colleague who the park is all to quick to deem missing (presumed dead) and rubber-stamp his file as such before tucking it away in a dusty corner. louisa almost quits. (she tries to quit. the only reason that she doesn't is because lamb shows up to ask her back, because she's at least almost competent and if they want any hope of getting river back they're going to need her. he also promises that he won't make her do fuck-all that isn't to do with finding river. she agrees to return on these conditions. catherine comes back too, of her own accord, because she can't tolerate the idea of being outside of the loop on this one. she has to be there.)

louisa is generally having a bad fucking time. she is dealing with grief and terror over the maybe-loss of her best friend, and she is also trying to find him, not to mention dealing with his mother. she ends up spending a lot of time working late with lamb, and filling out that dynamic is one of my favourite things in planning this thing out. they're astonishingly similar sometimes, and they inadvertently keep each other afloat during the long, difficult months river spends in captivity. (lamb is not handling this well either. he will not be acknowledging this. he WILL be yelling at the park for trying to legally declare river dead.)

ultimately, everything comes to a head when louisa follows a lead that she knows better than to follow, and comes to in a room in a manor she's never been to before. she is intended to be the final blow that breaks river's resolve, except that it doesn't quite end up shaking out that way, and they're both found alive, if not exactly well.

the following months are hard, too, in their own way, as everyone tries to re-find their footing again. there's endless hours of debriefing from the park, who aren't totally convinced river didn't go dark-side during his captivity. there's what to tell david, whose condition has deteriorated sharply thanks to the sudden and traumatic loss of his grandson. there's the severe physical and emotional trauma river is carrying and trying to recover from. there's louisa's own profound trauma from the whole ordeal - from his disappearance and his absence and everything she had to deal with during that to her own abduction and near-death. lamb tries, with varying levels of success, to be a human being, because they need him to be and because catherine told him in no uncertain terms that this time he has no choice. we all know i'm a rescue and recovery bitch, this is the part i am All About.

anyways. it's a mess, it's so much fun, there's so much going on here. im having a blast. :)