#he just wants his friends to be proud of him ;_;

[bunni-v1]

Working on a jealous PV fic (ty 🃏 nonnie i’ll make out w u) but I do it see anyone capitalize on how jealous he really is. Like he’s got serious issues, it’s just that he’s quiet about them 💀

He’s quite literally the perfect partner, there’s no reason for him to have any doubts. And he doesn’t have any doubts about YOU, it’s just… he gets annoyed when other cookies take up your time. Especially if it’s someone more… mmm…. respectable? Like another ancient or someone well respected.

He sees the way you interact with them and he feels… funny. You’re different around them, more open in a way. You have inside jokes that he doesn’t understand, you whisper little secrets in their ears and giggle about it after. He feels left out, and he longs to have that kind of connection to you.

It manifests as little twitches in his expression, never changing from that warm smile, but shifting slightly. No one can pick up on it, not even you. The only cookies even slightly able to tell are the ancients, and that’s only because of their time spent with him. It’s just a quiet lingering feeling that he doesn’t like to acknowledge, but eventually it’ll rear it’s ugly head.

Maybe a cookie tells you a joke and you laugh too hard or a friendly touch lingers a second too long. Whatever it is, it tips him over the edge and he has to place himself between you and the offending party.

He never interrupts your conversations with others, never. But this time he comes up beside you and there is something about him that makes both you and your friend falter in conversation. He insists you continue, but both of you are able to catch that somethings just off… You more than the other cookie, seeing as he has an iron clad grip around your waist.

The conversation doesn’t last much longer after that. You want to know the worst thing about it though, Pure Vanilla is humble about it all. If you corner him and ask him what that was about he admits it!

“Perhaps I was a bit… jealous…” in that stupidly adorable voice of his.

He’s not proud of himself, but he admits it to you willingly. Sweet thing that he is.

[tbaluver]

S/O With ADHD- The Love And DeepSpace Men

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader, Caleb x Reader requested: by a couple anonnies ♥︎ a/n: hihi my lovelies! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ i just want to mention a disclaimer about this. while i do have adhd, everybody experiences things differently so what might be common for me, can be completely different to another person! these symptoms presented here are only what i’ve experienced and what my friends have experienced and what people have requested! do not refer to this to diagnose yourself. if you suspect you might have adhd, please refer to a professional! there will be a part two to this because theres more to add but anyways enjoy reading ! (∩˃o˂∩)♡ any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

He didn’t fully grasp the idea when you tried to explain your adhd to him, your thoughts would jump from one thing to another and he tried to keep up. He would do his own research to understand better what you were going through. He would notice the little things, the way you would say you 're going to do something but never actually start or how tasks seem to take you forever to finish.

No worries about being late or rushing to go on dates or hangouts with him, there’s no set start time. Often times the dates and hangouts are flexible. He’ll wait until you’re ready as long as he gets to spend time with you and eat yummy food together, he’s happy

Indulges and learns your hyper fixations and your current obsessions. He’ll learn more about them on his own time so he can talk more about them with you

If you’re okay with it, he’ll join you whenever you need to rest and watch your comfort shows whenever you’re feeling drained or overstimulated. He’ll make the atmosphere in the room feel more cozy either by giving you space, adjusting the lighting and closing the curtains, tucking you in your blankets, so you can recharge

Praises your smallest victories even if it was just cleaning your room or finishing a simple task in under an hour without thinking or worrying about it. He knows that even the simplest tasks can feel overwhelming so when you manage to do something without thinking or bed rotting before doing something, he’s genuinely proud of you.

Zayne:

He would truly listen when you go off on a tangent of your hyperfixations, letting you ramble about them without interrupting you. Even if you branch off too many topics that you swear relates to the main topic, eventually forgetting what the point was, he patiently brings you back to the main point.

“..wait what was I talking about?”

“you were talking about how ___ and __”

He’s very organized, constantly tidying and rearranging things for you without needing to be asked. He doesn’t mind it at all. He organizes in a way that he knows would help you but if you ever forget where something is, he’s quick to help you. lost your keys? by the dining room table. your jacket? in the laundry basket. your phone? you’re holding it

Tries to keep his explanations short and easier to understand. He’ll give you just enough without getting lost in any unnecessary details

When he’s not around, he helps you by texting you on specific times to check up on you or to help shift your focus

Separate calm activities alone but together with him. You could be doing your own thing while he reads his book(s) or finishes up any medical reports

Calculates how long it usually takes you to get ready, so he’ll plan dates with reservation an hour or two ahead of time, sometimes maybe even more depending on the date, just to avoid overwhelming you. He’s always patient and understanding, sometimes he’ll help you get ready to take the weight off your shoulders

Rafayel:

In the beginning, he’ll notice you can run late to things but once you explain that it’s because of your adhd, he’ll be more understanding. Still, he can’t help but tease you just a little but he means well. He’ll just plan more hangouts that don’t require any set start time, just as long as you two are together at the end

Yap sessions with him take up an ungodly amount of hours. You both branch off to different topics, each one you both swear is just as important as the last, so the conversation goes in different directions. It takes forever to circle back to the original point.

He loves hearing about your hyper fixations. You can tell him everything, every little fact and he’ll ask you a million questions, indulging in your passion for it as well.

Loves to spend time with you but he is mindful and lets you have the space to unwind whenever you might feel overstimulated or just need to recharge

Shows so much encouragement whenever you show your creative and passionate side. He’ll recognize and appreciate the things you’re good at, even if you’re not able to see it in yourself

It’s canon that he sends you separate messages instead of big blocks of texts but its not because that’s how he feels more comfortable texting but also because he knows that long paragraphs can feel overwhelming. He doesn’t want you to miss anything or feel pressured to read through a lot at once

Sylus:

Lets you hold his hand whenever you want, no need to ask. He knows how much you fidget and he loves how you rub circles on the back of his hand, melting under your touch. If it helps you feel better, then go ahead. He’d even buy you rings to fidget with, ones that maybe match and also just so you can have something to twist and twirl when he’s not around

He adores listening to your obsessions and your hyper fixations, letting you ramble your latest interests or the new trinkets you’ve added to your collection. He’ll even surprise you with little trinkets he remembers from past conversations, knowing they would make you smile

Enjoys spending time with you even if you were focused on your own thing, whether it was hobby related or just unwinding in your own way while he’s also doing his own thing.

When you need help focusing and he’s not around, he’ll reach out at a certain time to check in and help refocus your attention

Doesn’t really send you paragraph lengths of text messages but sends you shorter messages so it doesn’t feel as overwhelming. He’ll mostly send voice messages that are short and the right length so it doesn’t let your mind drift away

Online shopping with him can help so you can control yourself from impulse buying so many things. He doesn’t mind you buying the entire world with his card but sometimes he has to stop you from buying things you absolutely don’t need

Caleb:

It’s easy for tasks to slip through or become overwhelming. You might start one thing but your mind jumps to something else and it takes a while before you can get back to what you were originally doing. Caleb would help by breaking down your chores one at a time or with more manageable steps or most of the time he’ll step in and take care of things for you so you don’t feel burdened.

If anything important was coming up the day after, he’ll leave little sticky notes for you all over the house, each one with a tiny apple doodles. They’ll be on your mirror, bedroom door, anywhere else he knows you’ll see them

Ever since you were a kid, he’ll still help you go over any of your works or anything you were unsure about when you feel like you missed any details. He’ll make sure you don’t miss anything

Never judgemental at all if you cut him off mid-sentence. He understands that you need to get your thoughts out quickly before they slip away so he lets you speak freely without worry

Sometimes you might forget to reply to a message or forget to come back to the conversation, so he’ll send a follow up message like, “whaddya think pipsqueak? :o” or he’ll send you a post to bring you back to the convo

If you’re struggling to focus on something, instead of pushing you to keep going, he’ll encourage you to take a break. He’ll help you ease back into it whether it’s breaking things down further or offering some encouragement

[lucygraysboy]

“you’ve always been my favorite singer, even back when you used to force me to be your back-up dancer or part of the choir,” he laughs at the memory, picking up his sled and making his way back up the small hill. “why, thank you. i just want to make you proud. now you can say things like, my best friend is an actor. and doesn’t that sound cool?” he always feels a little weird watching a new episode of his western show every sunday, seeing himself on the screen, but still hopes lucy gray will want to see this week’s episode with him. “nope, that one’s mine, that’s why it’s a little too big.” hers is tucked away nicely in the pocket of his jacket, snow slowly melting. “mhm, of course, i can. this is my most effective weapon.” these kisses. besides, he just can’t refrain — she smells so good and her skin tastes so sweet, just how he remembers it. funny how it was snowing too the last time they were making out in front of a target… “i’m addin’ this to my resume. billy bonney twerkin’ king. maybe i’ll land a role in some gay show next time.” he laughs, happy and proud because he’s managed to make lucy gray giggle like this. “do you want to keep goin’? slide a few more times? or are we comin’ back home?” he wonders, taking her in. they’re both soaked by now, and he’s got no hat on, but he doesn’t mind. he’s having so much fun.

“aw, well thank you darlin’. for thinkin’ such.” hard to be mad at him when he lifts her up like that. “you’re still a super star, too. comin’ so far like you have and getting these impressive roles.” letting him know she’s proud of him, despite hating what happened in the process. “that still got snow in it?” the beanie, she means. “alright alright, you can’t butter up with a million kisses to the face just to get out of things.” lucy gray is scoffing despite wanting to die of blushing; cheeks heating up, her heart rate speeding up as she feels his lips touch every inch of her face. his mouth brushing so close to her lips, that sends goosebumps up her spine and a flood of bashfulness. “oh, i will. i won’t let up either once i get you.” flopping over on her back when he shoots up, hands pushing herself up and starting to slowly walk down the hill. her finger tips starting to hurt quite painfully in her snow soaked gloves, curling them into her fists, going slow to watch where she’s going but MOSTLY just to annoy him— since he ran off without her. unfortunately, she can’t hold back a laugh though at him twerking, dancing, shaking— whatever he’s calling it that he’s doing.

[whoredyceps]

"OH LOVER BOY!" || 28 Days of Love: A Valentine's Challenge + Series

day twenty-six: possessive

ᰔ pairing: joel miller x reader

ᰔ summary: you and joel spend a friday night at the bar, which ends up with bloody hands and a hospital visit.

ᰔ author's note: a change of plot in the ninth hour thanks to that one picture. it's past 10pm and i'm writing like a madman. send help please god. inspired by this picture ✋😮‍💨

ᰔ content warning: no outbreak but canon typical violence, irritable joel, bar setting, alcohol consumption, creepy bar patrons, reader gets hit on, blood, hospitals, doctors, strong language

"Are you sure you want to go in? We can head back home and watch a movie," you offered. "Let's go out another night."

Joel shook his head, his hand extended out to cut the engine of the truck. He wanted to give in to your offer— turn right around and drive straight back home. Dread had filled him the minute he sat in the truck.

At the beginning of the week, you had asked to go out to the bar on Friday. Some of your friends were supposed to be getting together for drinks and pool. You agreed, and they urged you to bring the guy you had been seeing. When you brought it up to Joel, he surprised you with a nod and a 'sure, it'd be nice to get out'.

"We'll have a good time. Figure it'll be good to let your friends see I'm not just some cranky bastard," Joel huffed out a laugh. He had an amused smile on his lips as he climbed out of the car.

"Oh, I don't think you'll be less cranky," you chuckled. "That's okay. They know I like them bitchy." You put a hand on his chest and kissed him once he was close enough. Joel rolled his eyes; you swore they'd fall out of his skull with how often he did it.

"Bitchy? That's a new one." Joel opened the door for you as the two of you approached. You glanced over your shoulder.

"No it ain't. No one's bold enough to say it to your face," you chuckled.

Like most dive bars, the place was packed for a Friday night. The crowd ranged from long time regulars that regaled with each other to college kids that were too proud of their fake ids that no one really cared about.

You scanned the crowd to find your friends, who were tucked in the back. They were all gathered around a pool table and on what seemed to be the second round of drinks. You slipped your hand into Joel's and led him through the crowd. Before you got too far, he planted his feet. You turned, a look of confusion written on your face.

"I'll get us some drinks," Joel offered. You nodded and thanked him with a kiss. His hand slipped out of yours— he already knew your drink of choice. The two of you hadn't been together more than a few months, but he paid enough attention.

You joined your friends and gave the round of hugs and greetings.

"No 'Joel' tonight?" One of your friends teased as they elbowed your side. You shook your head and crossed your arms.

"Nope, but I did pick up that hot guy at the bar on the way in," you teased back. Every set of eyes turned to the bar to analyze the man in the flannel, his back turned to you.

"Bitch, that's fucking Joel. You posted a story with him in that same shirt a week ago," another friend chided. You cackled as she punched your arm. Your other friends waved you off or flipped the bird.

None of your friends had met Joel yet, but they had seen and heard more than enough about him. They knew he wasn't very social so as soon as you said he would come along, there was a buzz of excitement.

"He offered to grab us some drinks. What was I gonna do, say no?" You watched as two of your friends argued over the rules of pool. They fought like this every time, so you tuned them out.

Joel returned with two drinks in hand, a beer and one of your old faithfuls. He slipped a hand onto the small of your back. Your shirt shifted and you felt the press of his fingertips against your skin. A small shiver came over you.

"Guys, this is Joel. Joel, these are my friends." You went through the group and introduced everyone by name. Joel, ever the southern gentleman, shook everyone's hand and gave a polite hello.

You stuck close to Joel as the two of you settled into the group. He fit in easily as he jested with your friends. He even offered to play a round of pool with one of the guys— totally unprompted!

As you watched him and chatted with a friend, you noticed how quickly your drink had disappeared. With a small pout, you held your glass up.

"I'm going to get another drink! Be right back," you yelled over the loud background noise. He gave a nod, and you slipped him to head for the bar.

Since you had arrived, the bar had only grown more rowdy. It seemed the football team from the local college had finished their practice and wanted to party. You couldn't blame them, considering the drinks were cheap and it wasn't a far drive from the stadium. Still, you had to practically elbow your way to the bar.

As you waited for the bartender to finish with their current task, you felt a presence beside you. That, and you could practically smell them from where you stood. God, college boys smelled just as bad axe-laden middle schoolers.

"You all by yourself?" You almost didn't believe the boy was talking to you. If not for him pressing closer to you, you would have ignored him all together.

"No," you replied. "I'm here to grab a drink for myself and my boyfriend." You tried to move away, only to end up squished between an older woman and the man with no clear sense of personal space.

"I don't see him," he chided with a smirk. "Isn't that what they all say? I've got a boyfriend, a girlfriend, a partner— yet no one by their side."

You whirled around with a raised eyebrow.

"You do know that I don't have to stand near him all night, correct? Just because we're not next to each other doesn't mean I don't have a boyfriend," you returned. The boy rolled his eyes and leaned on the bar.

"Baby—"

Your skin crawled at the name. Nothing angered you more than some shitty pet name from some random guy who didn't know you. The only person who deserved to call you baby was across the bar and in the middle of a pool game.

"I'm not your baby. Don't call me that," you snapped. "Can I just get my drink in peace? I'm not going to be polite next time." You turned your shoulder, your back to him as you waved down the bartender. She was on her way to you when a hand landed on your waist. It made your skin crawl as you launched yourself away from the bar.

"What, baby? You a fuckin' prude or something? Savin' yourself for your little imaginary boyfriend?" The tone in his voice had you seeing red. Your fists balled up and your expression twisted into one of rage.

"Is this how you pick people up at the bar? How's being an idiot working out for you?" You had to take a deep breath before you went in swinging. It had not been the first time you had been in a bar fight, and it seemed old habits died hard.

"Worked every time before. C'mere, baby, I'll buy you—"

You watched the scene play out in slow motion. One minute, the idiot's hand stretched out to grab for your hand. In a blink, a big, calloused hand grab his wrist and yanked him away from the bar.

Joel looked enraged. You had seen him angry plenty of times, but this was different. His lips were downturned, but the look in his eyes scared you. Not for yourself— god, even the idea seemed ridiculous to you— but for the dumbass.

"Choose your next words carefully. Say baby one more time, pretty boy." Joel's tone sent a shiver down your spine. It was almost like he was begging the boy to do something dumb.

"Get the fuck off of me, old man. Like you have a better chance with the bitch."

Oh.

Yeah, this boy was gonna die. Time stood still as you watched the football player try to deck Joel with his only free hand. In one swift move, he yanked the boy's arm forward and threw him onto the ground. He managed to land a punch that sent a crack so loud that the bar fell into a hush.

The boy yelped and tried to swing back, but Joel was quicker. He had at least fifty pounds and half a foot on him. That, and a load of unbridled rage. He didn't take kindly to harassment, but to insult you in the process? Call you a bitch?

You stood, your mouth open in pure shock. Truth be told, you were glued to your spot. Two men managed to pull Joel off, while a few other bystanders tried to stop the boy's scrawny friends from getting the same ass-whooping.

Finally, as if your brain seemed to come back to Earth, you blinked and lurched towards Joel. You blatantly stepped over the boy to get to your boyfriend. His hands were bloody and his expression was soured.

"Hey, hey— Joel, baby, take a deep breath," you muttered. The two men who held him back lead him towards the exit, and you followed. One of the guys opened the door, and you took his spot as you guided him outside. You thanked the men as you managed to unlock the truck bed. Joel sat with a heavy sigh and murmured a thanks under his breath.

"Can I see your hands?" Your voice was soft. The air was cool and loud with the sound of the frogs all around. Joel was silent as he let you hold his hands. He sucked in a sharp breath when you fiddled with a few fingers.

"This looks broken," you frowned. "We need to get you to the hospital." You didn't care that Joel's hand was full of blood, or that his hackles were still raised. If you weren't so concerned, you'd be in shock still.

"It can wait until tomorrow," Joel gruffed. He never meant for it to happen, him beating the living daylights out of the idiot, but he'd be damned if he'd let someone talk about you like that. If anything, the kid's lucky enough walking away alive and talking.

"Please," you asked. "What if it's something serious?" If something bad happened to Joel, especially after he got hurt defending you, you'd be beside yourself.

By some miracle, or maybe the worry written all over your face, Joel conceded with a nod. He got off the edge of the truck bed and began for the driver's seat.

"Oh, absolutely not. I'm driving. Go." You weren't going to take no for an answer. Joel gave you the keys before he climbed into the passenger seat.

The ride to the hospital was short and silent. It wasn't uncomfortable, but you weren't sure what to say. How did you thank your boyfriend for beating some guy's ass? It was more than some verbal acknowledgment— did you buy him dinner? Suck his dick? All of the above?

You helped with the check-in process once at the hospital. As the two of you waited to be called to the back, you laid your head on Joel's shoulder.

"Thank you for defending me. I don't know what that guy's problem was." You felt Joel's jaw rest against your head. He reached over to hold your arm with his uninjured hand.

"Dumbass was too big for his britches. I only caught the tail end, but I figured it out real quick when I saw your face. If I hadn't'a swung first, it woulda been you." Joel knew that, no questions asked. If someone was going to get charges pressed, he'd rather it be himself than you.

"Shit, you're right. Though my uppercut wouldn't have done much, at least compared to your hit. I mean goddamn," you chucked under your breath. "You damn near knocked him into next Tuesday."

"Still wouldn't have been enough if I had. Who calls someone a bitch like that? Fuckin' vile, that piece'a shit," Joel grumbled under his breath.

Once he was called to the back, they made quick work on setting his hand in place. Joel bit back a groan as they popped his fingers into the right place and put a brace on his hand. He was sent off with a prescription for painkillers and an order for no heavy lifting. That hurt him more than anything else.

"Shoulda just put me down instead," Joel grumbled as he followed you out of the emergency room. You held good arm as you guided him to the truck.

"It won't be that bad. Maybe you'll actually get some rest," you lightly teased. Joel attempted to chuckle, but it just came out as an amused huff. He didn't even try to go for the driver's side. Not like he'd be able to drive for another week, at least.

"Don't go for miracles," Joel warned. You rolled your eyes, a small smile on your face.

"Eh, I'll take my chances."

Despite the unfortunate circumstances, Joel actually did rest. You thanked him with words, dinner, and a few orgasms to show how truly thankful you really were. No one had stuck up for you like that, and to have someone defend you like that...

Joel deserved more than you could ever give, but you'd try your damnedest for him.

[leafbowl]

You know that thing bikers do when they see a police car? The tap on their helmets? Yeah so Arsenal, Red Hood, Red Robin and Spoiler (who I think are the only ones who ride motorbikes outside of their vigilante personalities) do it whenever they see Nightwing. And you better believe it makes others so fucking confused.

Nightwing: *Drops down into the fight.*

Red Hood: *Stops everything he's doing to tap the top of his helmet.*

Spoiler: *Sees it and then stops to do it too.*

Red Robin: *Gets a giddy little grin and starts tapping the top of his head.*

Thugs: *All collectively very confused.*

Thug #1: Wha... What're they doin'?

Thug #2: Uhh I dunno.

Thug #3: Hey, isn't that what bikers do when they see a cop?

Thug #2: Nah. Nightwing's not a cop, dumbass.

Thug #1: Yeah, he's a vigilante. Wha's he need with bein' a cop?

Thug #3: But he's the type to snitch tho.

Thug #1: Well... I guess. Maybe that's why they do it, cuz he's such a snitch.

Thug #2: *shrugs* Maybe.

Thugs #3: Uh, guys...

Thug #2: What?

Thug #3: Ya 'ere that?

Thug #1: *Pauses but doesn't hear anything.* Uh nah.

Thug #3: Exactly. Where'd the fightin' sounds go?

Thug #2: Shit.

The fighting had stopped because everyone else had been taken care of. The batfam had just been waiting for them to finish their conversation like Alfred taught them to. He would be proud. Probably of the broken and fractured bones that followed. Well, he'd be proud of their technique, they reckoned. (To be honest, Alfred would be proud no matter what.)

Arsenal: So he just... told you all to stop?

Red Hood: *Shrugs.* Pretty much.

Red Robin: I don't get why B wants us to stop using 'dick' as a term of endeerment. It's a compliment! Being like Dick is the highest honour.

Red Hood: And that has nothing to do with the fact the Baby Wonder finds it enfurieating?

Red Robin, grinning: Cassie hating it is an upside, I won't lie.

Nightwing: *Drops down next to where they're all gathered on a roof.* Hey guys, sorry I'm late, I-

Red Hood:

Arsenal:

Spoiler:

Red Robin:

Robin:

Orphan:

Nightwing: Uh guys? *Starts sweating because there's something wrong with the way they're all blankly staring at him.* How- how's everyone?

Red Hood: *Starts tapping helmet.*

Nightwing: *So concerned that something's wrong he doesn't clock it right away so he just stares, a crease forming between his eyebrows.*

Red Robin: *Taps against his hair.*

Nightwing: Wait a sceond-

Arsenal, Spoiler: *Taps their heads.*

Robin and Orphan: *Looks at each other. Holds eye contact and then starts tapping their heads to fuck with Nightwing.*

The next day a photo of Nightwing standing with his head bowed in defeat whilst being surrounded by Red Hood, Arsenal, Red Robin, Robin, Spoiler and Orphan who are all patting their heads is trending. People think they're in some kind of cult and that they were either sacraficing Nightwing or they were summoning something. The fact that Nightwing isn't spotted for the next week makes everyone lean towards the sacraficing.

(Jason made him promise he would play into the bit by not going out and letting his friends and/or his siblings patrol his city. Dick has never been good at saying not to his little brother. And, come on, Dick fucking loved the idea of people thinking he was being sacraficed. Also, he doesn't mind the head patting. Batman was the only one who thought it might reveal his identity. Dick was with Stephanie on it all, really. There was no way people would connect him to Nightwing and if they did, it's not like anyone else would believe them.)

It gets to the point that it's not even to fuck with Batman anymore. It becomes a normal greeting, something that bleeds into their civillian lives. People understand it more when it's directed at Dick Grayson but it's very endeering to see it. It all fuels all the Bruceman shippers when Tim Drake-Wayne is caught doing it to Nightwing.

[juustokaku]

Candy Crush - Wooyoung x f!reader

Summary: Sure, all those lollipops Wooyoung had stolen from you tasted sweet, but would you taste even sweeter? Genre: smut (MDNI) Pairings: bully!sub!Wooyoung x f!reader Tags/Warnings: SMUT, sub!wooyoung, mean dom!reader, cunnilingus, penetration, unprotected sex, slight jealousy, wooyoung is mean at the start, recording with a camera, breeding kink (?), name calling, wooyoung is kinda in love with the reader A/N: This turned out longer than I wanted it to be :,) I hope this will tickle someone's fancy! Word count: 3 560 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Lollipops. They were Wooyoung’s favorite to steal. Almost sickeningly sweet and easy for tongue; he wondered if your lips would taste the same. 

When he had been 10 years old, he hadn’t thought much about it. He had just wanted to elicit reactions out of you; it entertained him how your face turned the shade of the strawberry lollipop he had just stolen from you. Your tears had always been enjoyable to him, but a few years ago they had started to excite him in a different way. 

A part of him felt guilty about bullying you; stealing candy had turned to humiliating you in the school corridors and spreading rumors about you being a whore – it was his way to make sure other people would stay away from you, leaving him as the only person who could ever love you. 

The hallway wasn’t devoid of people, but you were alone once again. Not even fuckboys wanted to get acquainted with you – pretty insulting, huh? 

“At this point, you must be doing this on purpose,” Wooyoung chuckled as his steps led to you. He really acted like he owned the school – and you. 

An angry frown settled on your face as you noticed him staring at your candy bag. Despite Wooyoung always stealing your treats, you couldn’t stop the bad habit of bringing them to school. Maybe your subconscious mind did it on purpose, wanting a reason to talk to him. 

“These candies are not for you,” you huffed. 

“Then who are they for? You shouldn’t eat them by yourself,” Wooyoung grinned as he saw you tighten your grip on the bag, “I still remember how you threw up on recess when we were 11 years old.” 

“They’re for a friend.” 

Wooyoung clenched his white teeth together. It couldn’t be possible for you to have a friend, after he had lied to the whole school about your supposedly wild sex life. However, he had to force his anger down. 

“Are you going to bribe her into being your friend with candy?” Wooyoung’s smirk was infuriating. A brow he had raised arrogantly was not an unusual sight; he loved to make you doubt yourself. 

“It’s a ‘him’. And I have not bribed him with candy, sex, or anything,” you said. 

Jealousy flashed through Wooyoung’s chest; he had thought he had isolated you properly, but of course, there had to be someone who tried to whisk you away. 

“You’re definitely not going to bribe him with sex.” 

“Are you jealous?” you couldn’t resist teasing him. 

“Are you delusional? I meant you’re not able to bribe anyone with sex when you look like that,” Wooyoung scoffed. 

 You had grown used to his cruel comments years ago already, but the sting was still there. Not wanting to see his triumphant grin, you looked away. 

Watching the tears prickle your eyes, Wooyoung couldn’t help the pang of guilt shooting through him. Yes, he loved how easily he could force your emotions on the surface; you looked so beautiful with your puffy eyes, but when was the last time you had smiled at him? Probably not even once after the day he first stole your lollipop in elementary school. 

“Good job, asshat. Are you proud of yourself now?” 

You and Wooyoung turned to the sound of someone speaking and walking towards you. To your relief and Wooyoung’s annoyance, a man named San approached the two of you. Despite being fairly young, he was big and buff – a perfect friend to protect you from Wooyoung. 

“San. So, you are Y/N’s new friend, huh?” Wooyoung raised his brows in disbelief. 

The taller man didn’t even spare a glance at Wooyoung. His hands were busy wiping your tears and eyes shining a gentle light. Wooyoung’s blood was boiling as he watched how you took in all of San’s soothing touches and calming, quiet words. 

“You do know she’s a slut, right? Or are you her friend because of that?” 

San couldn’t have cared less about what Wooyoung had to say about you. He shot a glare at Wooyoung before wrapping a strong, comforting arm around your shoulder. 

Hands clenched into fists, Wooyoung watched the two of you walk away. In his imagination, he was ripping San into shreds. San who was now sucking on a lollipop you just offered him willingly. San who you hadn’t known for long but liked more than you liked Wooyoung. 

Before San could get his chance to sweep you off your feet, Wooyoung had to make his move. Instead of sucking on stolen lollipops he would switch to sucking on your clit. And he’d do it with a smile on his face. 

After school, Wooyoung saw his chance and took it. Given that he had spread rumors about you, it was easy to catch you walking alone when the school grounds were finally devoid of students. No-one wanted to get associated with you – no-one except for San apparently. 

Wooyoung found you at the lockers. There didn’t seem to be any people nearby, and he knew that he would have to act before San did. Besides, he had grown frustrated at jerking off every night; the mere thought of you forced his hand to wander to his growing erection. Ragged breaths and whispers of your name would slip past his lips as he stroked his length up and down. It never took long for him to come all over his stomach. 

“Y/N, I need to talk to you.” 

You recognized Wooyoung by just his voice; how could you not, when you had had to listen to his mocking laugh and annoying remarks for years already? You didn’t care to turn around to face him. 

“Look at me,” he demanded. 

Despite his usual domineering attitude, he couldn’t help but admit to himself reluctantly: it was hot how you ignored him. You weren’t focusing on him, and it made him embarrassed. It was unusual of you to act like that. 

“So, you’re getting cocky now that you finally have a friend? Are you going to whore yourself out to him too?” 

When he saw you slam the locker door close, he had thought you’d finally acknowledge him; instead, he watched your hips sway as you walked away from without even sparing a glance at him. Wooyoung felt his cock twitch, waking up at the way you had ignored him completely. He didn’t know whether to feel livid or lustful. All he knew was that he needed you now in any way possible. 

You heard footsteps following behind, obviously belonging to Wooyoung. Though him grabbing your wrist was not what you had expected. Although he tried to seem in control, his hand was shaking from desire and anticipation as he shoved you inside an empty classroom. 

You were close to falling on the floor as you stumbled from the force of Wooyoung’s push. The slam of the door and looming presence behind you indicated he had trapped the both of you inside. 

“Wooyoung, what the fuck?” you snapped at him. 

His response was unexpected yet somehow predicted; desperate to feel you, he pulled you into a kiss, his grip tight on your waist but gently holding your head. 

When you started kissing him back almost immediately, he felt like his heart would burst from unexplainable, intense emotions. He was drunken on the feeling of touching you, knowing that you wanted him back. Maybe not as much as he wanted you, but it was practically impossible after all to match the extent of the desire he had for you. 

Your lips on his was all that he thought he had hoped for but now he was growing hungry for more. It wasn’t enough. The kiss had been passionate from the start, but it turned greedy and almost desperate in Wooyoung’s case. When you slipped your tongue in, exploring his mouth skillfully, a whimper he had tried to hold back escaped past his lips. 

At the sound, you pulled away, leaving Wooyoung whining. 

“I didn’t know you were this desperate for me,” you whispered. 

A shiver ran up his spine. He could feel his control slipping away in a way he had thought impossible. 

“O-Only for you.” 

“So, what did you want to talk about?” your finger tracing his sharp jawline. 

Wooyoung’s mind was blank, fuzzy from your heavenly touch. It didn’t even matter anymore what he had wanted to talk about earlier; all he wanted now was your puffy, pink clit against his lips and your hands tugging at his black hair until his scalp hurt. 

“You can’t remember? That’s actually pathetic,” you cooed mockingly, “Just kissing me got you rock hard.” 

Wooyoung glanced down at his pants which had an obvious tent hiding his cock. It even twitched at your degrading words, and he was happy you couldn’t see that through the fabric. He had never expected to find the way you spoke to him arousing. Despite that, he had gotten harder than ever in a record-breaking speed. 

“Need you. N-Need to be inside you,” Wooyoung whined, cursing at himself in his mind for sounding so pitiful. No-one else had ever affected him like that, made him submit by just a few words. 

“You have to earn it.” 

“How? Please, Y/N...” 

As you walked to the teacher’s desk, Wooyoung followed you quickly. He was ready to do anything just to get to stuff you full, to feel your warm pussy squeeze and milk his cock dry. 

“Eat me out,” you commanded. 

Wooyoung had been waiting for this moment for too many years of his life. Your lips, which were indeed sweeter than all the lollipops, had finally given him the permission he thought he’d never receive. 

You watched his biceps flex as he lifted you up on the desk. Wooyoung pushed you to lie down, the gentleness in his moves contrasting the roughness of his earlier words and actions which had completely disappeared now. 

His trembling hands reached to take off your skirt, but your firm voice was enough to stop him in his tracks. 

“Wait.” 

You took out your phone from the pocket of your hoodie. Wooyoung’s expression turned confused as the phone camera was suddenly directed at him – yet he couldn’t deny the excitement. 

“I’m going to film you, and you’re going to do what I say.” 

His eyes widened slightly at your words, kind of having had suspected it but never had expected it. Still, he didn’t even hesitate. 

“What should I do?” 

“Take off my panties. The skirt stays on.” 

A pout formed on Wooyoung’s lips. It was all so new to see him this way, all whiny and needy; it was new to him as well. He had never thought he’d react this way to someone taking control over him. 

“But I want to see you wholly!” 

You let out a short chuckle. The way it felt more like degrading amusement than of sympathy made Wooyoung almost whimper. You had brought a whole new side out of him that just needed your attention and praises. 

“Too bad. Now get to work.” 

Your back was against the desk, and Wooyoung lifted your legs to rest on his shoulders as he crouched down, facing your core now. Only thing separating him from the meal he had dreamed of for years was your lace panties. They stuck to your pussy deliciously, and Wooyoung brushed his fingers against them. The damp fabric was a clear sign of your arousal, and he felt more blood pump to his painfully hard cock. 

His thumb found your clit surprisingly quick and started rubbing circles on it. The small moans that escaped your mouth mesmerized him; they were even prettier than he had imagined. Only complaint Wooyoung had was that they were too quiet. He needed to make them louder so that he’d never forget them. 

As he slid off your panties, you hissed at the feeling of the cool air hitting your sensitive clit. However, you didn’t have to suffer for long, because Wooyoung started warming it up. His hot tongue against your pussy, his face half-hidden under your miniskirt. 

Wooyoung really succeeded in making your moans sound even sweeter. It felt like he was sending the tiniest electric shocks to your clit, every flick and lick of his tongue making your lower half burn with desire. For so many years he had been starving for your pussy, to have it in every way possible. 

“So good...” you approved, sounding a little too desperate to your liking. 

The way Wooyoung whimpered in response, how it sent vibrations on your core... It made you clench around nothing. You were already wet for him, ready for his cock which had occupied your fantasies for so many nights. 

“Y/N, p-please, let me fuck you. Let me cum inside you,” Wooyoung’s high-pitched voice accompanied the wet sounds of him eating you out. 

The faint ticking of a wall clock caught your attention as you were considering Wooyoung’s plead. It was just a minute to five o’clock; how fun would it be to challenge the desperate man between your legs a little? 

“Make me cum in a minute and I’ll let you have me in any way you want.” 

Wooyoung wasted no time; he grabbed your thighs in a bruising grip to keep you from shifting away every time you got close. Clearly, he could feel the way they trembled, because his moans started getting more frequent. 

“W-Woo, you have 30 seconds left.” 

He wrapped his lips around your puffy clit and sucked on it harshly, making both your heart and pussy flutter. The video footage you’d have of this wouldn’t win any Oscars; your shaky hands couldn’t keep the phone stable and straight. And maybe material this pornographic wouldn’t pass as an appropriate candidate anyways. 

As your hips started bucking involuntarily, Wooyoung held onto you tighter, his tongue working even harder. It didn’t take long for him to get what he desired; your cry of pleasure echoed in the classroom. From now on, the sound would ring in Wooyoung’s ears every time he thought about you. 

He didn’t stop, just continuing to lap at your juices until you were overstimulated and your core beginning to feel like on fire. 

“Hey, stop it! You succeeded already,” you pushed Wooyoung away with your foot. 

He let out a pathetic whimper. How could he go back to eating normal meals after tasting the heaven between your thighs? 

“Look at the camera.” 

Wooyoung raised his gaze from your core to the phone shoved up in his face. Your phone case looked so innocent, baby pink and cute, a stark contrast to how you actually were. For so long Wooyoung had lied to everyone about you being a whore, but now he was the one acting like a bitch in heat. 

“Tell everyone how I taste like.” 

“S-So good. So sweet,” Wooyoung licked your juices off his lips. 

“Good boy. You’ll get your reward now,” you said, a mockery of being truly proud of him. 

Wooyoung’s hands immediately started working on the zipper of his pants that felt almost suffocatingly tight around his lower area. You chuckled, watching how he had trouble getting his cock out due to how his hands were trembling in excitement. 

Finally, it sprung out, standing tall. Prominent veins were adorning it – a pretty sight indeed. Maybe someday you’d grant him the permission to fuck your warm throat, but that was for later when he would have learned his place properly. 

Wooyoung jerked his hand on his cock, the tip of it almost as red as his flushed cheeks. A glint of hunger in his hazy eyes focused on your face before they fell on your chest. 

“Get inside my cunt already,” you demanded, “before I get bored.” 

Wooyoung immediately snapped out of his thoughts, scared you’d take his rights to your pussy away, and guided his painfully hard cock to your core. He slid inside easily, and he could swear that he almost painted your walls white the moment your warmth enveloped him. 

“Fuck, f-fuck...” he groaned out, fighting back the primal urge to ram into you like an animal. 

Your pussy was soothing yet like a slap on the face for how intense it felt. Better than his hand, better than anyone he’s ever touched, better than he had ever imagined. 

Wooyoung grabbed your hips. His grip was tight; he was so lost in the pleasure that he had forgotten to be gentle. But luckily you wanted it rough. 

He started moving his hips slowly, every thrust threatening to make him cum early. You had had bigger ones than Wooyoung was, but the way he whimpered desperately was unlike anything you had seen before. 

As Wooyoung adjusted to the feeling of your pussy squeezing him tight, his hips started working faster, almost like they had the mind of their own. He could get used to this; used but never bored. 

“Please, can I see them?” 

You wondered what Wooyoung meant with his breathy request, “What do you want to see?” 

“Your tits. P-Pretty please,” he looked into your eyes, desperate like he was starving for even a glimpse. 

He had been fully expecting for a nice bra to cover your chest, but when he saw you lift your shirt and reveal your bare tits, it surprised him pleasantly. A gasp of pleasure slipped past your lips as Wooyoung’s latched onto one of your nipples, providing great pressure as he sucked on it. You couldn’t decide if it was painful or pleasurable – those two could exist at the same time, right? 

He thrusted into you in a desperate manner, his hips stuttering and the rhythm unsteady. 

“I-I want you so – fuck – so bad...” 

You tried to scoff but the sound came out as something between a moan and a huff of air. 

“You have me, you ungrateful brat. Is t-this not enough?” 

Wooyoung cried out, fondling with your breasts, holding onto them like a lifeline. 

“It is, it is! But I want to cum inside. Let me put a baby in you.” 

Involuntarily, your cunt clenched around Wooyoung’s cock which made him gasp. He tried so hard not to cum already, he really wanted to be good for you and for you to unravel for him first. 

“Don’t you dare cum yet,” you warned him icily. 

Wooyoung’s pace quickened, and his cock threatened to slip out from how wet and tight you were for him. He watched your flushed face in awe, taking a mental picture with his eyes. He would make sure he saw this sight, your pussy swallowing his cock inside, every week, preferably every day, from now on. 

You took hold of his black locks and yanked his face closer to you for a kiss. It was wet, and Wooyoung swore he could taste lollipops on your tongue. Unfortunately, it reminded him of the way San had received one from you. That smug bastard could have tainted your lips first. 

The need to mark you as his grew stronger. If San ever got even close to your pussy, it would be so full of Wooyoung’s seed, that he’d never be able to fit his cock in. Your pussy was molded for Wooyoung. 

As you started moaning his name, he felt the throb on his cock that needed release right now. Despite your command he wouldn’t be able to hold back long anymore. 

“P-Please, let me fill you up!.. I’ve been good, h-haven't I?” 

He was such a pretty boy already, but desperate whimpers make a man even hotter. You couldn’t deny him when he was ramming inside you roughly yet with a submissive, gentle look on his face, eyebrows furrowed. There was the slightest bit of drool sliding past his parted lips. 

“Knock me up, baby,” you moaned breathily. 

At your permission, Wooyoung cried out in pleasure as his cum finally shot deep inside you. His legs barely worked, almost failing and letting him fall onto the floor by how intense his orgasm was. 

With just a few, last powerful thrusts you came as well with a moan you thought of as humiliating, but Wooyoung would describe as only the most beautiful sound in the world. 

He gazed at you with embarrassingly fond eyes, like he had just made love to you romantically instead of fucking with you in an empty classroom. But how could he treat you like shit anymore after getting a taste of his own personal heaven? 

“I’m yours,” he whispered. 

You just scoffed, humored by the change of tone he used to speak with, “Okay?” 

He shouldn’t have gotten hard again by your indifferent words, but he couldn’t help but enjoy the way the girl he had bullied had put him in his place, gotten him wrapped right around her little finger. 

Next day at school, Wooyoung felt like all eyes were on him. Whispers and mocking gazes had shifted from you to him. You had shared the video of him eating you out to the whole school. His flushed face coated in your juices, his thirsty whimpers and messy hair; it was all for everyone to see and speculate on. Had Wooyoung paid to have sex with the school’s supposed slut? He hadn’t but he would even sell his parents’ house just to do it again. 

[sugarpasteltmnt]

wow first of all THANK YOU SO MUCH to everyone who voted for my silly little story in the AU comp!! seriously you all are so wonderful and sweet and i'm just so happy to be in the comp period 😭🩵

as a big thanks i wanted to tell ya'll i'm working on the next chapter of 'Purgatory Paradise' ( • ̀ω•́ )✧ i'll try my best to have it out within the next week!! (`･ω･´)ゞ here's a sneak peak:

in the meantime, please enjoy this list of some of the references and easter eggs i had put in 'The Neon Void' while writing it! (hehe how many did YOU spot while reading?)

[warning; spoilers ahoy! avoid reading if you haven't finish TNV yet!]

here's a rough list of some of the references I snuck in or jokes i was quite proud of when writing 'The Neon Void' haha!

Houdini 

● silly reference to ‘ooze’ hehe (not so much of an easter egg but more of a bad joke lol)  ● “…What in sweet Marie Curie’s name was that about?” – Marie Curie was a physicist who studied radioactivity, and her research ultimately was used in the creation of the atomic bomb, which uses nuclear fission (aka, atoms splitting apart) (lol get foreshadowed, nerds.) 

The Shrine 

● The Jupiter Jim issue number 84 is a reference to 1984, the year the TMNT comics first came out. 

Mosaic 

● Leo’s hideout is inspired by an episode in the 2003 TMNT, where the fam hides in a water tower when the lair is discovered by the Foot Clan. (And I believe a water tower comes into play in other TMNT iterations, but I wasn’t 1000% sure) 

Marigolds 

● The area where Mikey fights Leo and cuts off his arm is heavily inspired by some of the 2003 sewer layout scenes, with the giant atriums and criss-crossing skywalks over giant areas of water. I loved those designs and wanted to incorporate that. 

Ground Control 

● Another silly joke reference of ‘shellphones’ used in the 2012 series   ● “I doubt it was unimportant considering you made enough to feed the entire New York Dave’s team,” Donnie pressed. He picked up a butterfly, inspecting it, but Mikey knew that he was trying to get to the root of the cause, “What did he say?” – Homage to early concept art of Donnie, where he has a butterfly on his knuckle (look at this cutie)

(BTW i for the life of me CANNOT find the original tweet where this photo was so if you have it let me know!) 

Mad Dog: Haunted 

● Call-back to the Krang carcass you see for 0.2 seconds in the season finale inside of the Crying Titan, which I thought was a really neat detail. 

Strings

● The book excerpt Donnie reads is written by Professor Honeycutt, a referencing the 2003 Professor Honeycut who studied teleportation and invented the teleportal  ● ‘October 28, 20:20’ written on the sticky note Donnie looks at is a reference to the release date of ‘The Last Ronin’ (10/28/2020) ● ‘By Carl Sagan–! It worked! We’ve established contact–!’ – Carl Sagan lead the effort in the creation of the Golden Record aboard the Voyager spacecraft, whos purpose was to send a message to extraterrestrials who might find the spacecraft as it traveled through vast spans of space. Since Donnie was trying to reach Karai and the ancestors from what felt like an impossible distance, it felt fitting. 

Bed and Breakfast 

● ‘He groaned. His brain was pulsing painfully behind his eyes. His whole body was achy. Great Pythagoras, what happened?’ – Pythagoras was a Greek philosopher referred to as the ‘lover of wisdom’ and made numerous mathematical and scientific discoveries, and I felt like Donnie would just generally be a fanboy of him lol.  ● ‘Sweet Friedrich Sertürner was that blood–?!’ – while working on this chapter, i asked my best friend and beta reader for some inventors/scientist names to make into funny Donnie Swears. She suggested Friedrich Sertürner because he invented morphine which is used to treat pain… and she said 'would be funny...considering how much of it they were gonna need by the time things were said and done with the Key/Leo's infection.' (SHE WAS SO REAL FOR THAT LOL)   ● The ‘Void ducking in and out of doorways just to come out of a totally different door’ chase was 100000% a Scooby-doo reference, lol. It was one of my fav cartoons growing up and that gag felt very on-brand for Leo’s silly ‘Void’ persona and i’m a little proud of it hahaha 

The Deal 

“Neon Void was literally blasted into the air. All the while laughing merrily as he soared. He went crashing into a poor, unkept, unsuspecting billboard for the Super Slam Hockey Game that already happened over ten years ago.” – This is SO obscure but this is a reference to one of my favorite 2003 TMNT episodes, ‘The Golden Puck’. The episode is so peak 2000’s cartoon to me with its silly premise and I just loved it LOL. (Southern millionaire who hires sci-fi-technology cowboy bounty hunters to steal a sports trophy in the middle of New York city? Peak old cartoon synopsis.) 

Rap Battle 

● The first few lines of Leo’s freestyle rap are the 2012 TMNT opening theme lyrics 

Boop!

● Leo runs past a ‘Space Heroes' game cabinet– Space Heroes is a reference to the 2012 TMNT, which was the show that Leonardo was obsessed with 

Tag Part I: Sonic 

● Leo bounces off the back of the Sonic the Hedgehog balloon in the parade in reference to the fact that they share the same voice actor LOL Extra fun fact this entire fic was set in autumn/fall JUST to write this NICHE SCENE

I’m sure I missed a few I couldn't remember off the top of my head, but I had a lot of fun putting these little references and easter eggs in the story 🩵 TMNT itself always makes call-backs and references to it's other iterations, and i love love love that and wanted to try myself!

[pretentious-blonde]

spark

pairing: steve harrington x reader

summary: you accepted steve’s offer, and he smiles like it’s easy, but beneath the facade, he’s praying you don’t notice how terrifying it is to open up again

warnings: ptsd, anxiety, scars, mention of death

a/n: ANGST. steve is still a huge sweetheart as per!!

series masterlist

Steve was awake long before his alarm, as usual. Though he liked to pretend he was simply a “morning person,” he knew the real reason.

He always woke up in a cold sweat, heart racing from a nightmare he could never fully recall. It was the same vague sense of running—always running—being chased by something he never let himself name. 

He reminded himself that those days were gone. 

He didn’t have to run anymore.

He eased out of bed, pushing the sheets away, and moved to the small bathroom. Flicking on the light, he squinted at his reflection in the mirror. The circles beneath his eyes weren’t as dark as they used to be—a tiny victory he attributed to the combination of time, therapy, and intermittent determination. 

The government had footed the bill for his sessions as well as securing him a psychiatrist, reasoning that what he’d experienced wasn’t exactly covered by regular services, nor did they want the exposure. His therapist was kind enough and understood that the horrors he experienced were a lifelong journey to recovery. 

Slowly but surely, he was finding his footing again.

He’d spent years feeling dislocated from normal life. All that time battling with the fallout from the Upside Down had stolen the carefree spark of his youth, and the constant suspicion that something else might lurk around the corner left him raw. 

But recently, thanks to the subtle coaxing of his therapist—and the unwavering support of friends—he’d started picturing a future that wasn’t overshadowed by the past. 

He got a stable job teaching, an apartment all his own (no more living under his parents’ roof), and moments of genuine contentment. The kids in his class offered him something pure and untarnished. Something untainted. They had no idea about his history, or the scars he hid beneath his shirt, and that innocence soothed him in ways nothing else could.

He opened the cabinet, pulled out the bottle of medication his doctor had prescribed, and popped a pill into his mouth before taking a gulp of water straight from the tap. A shaky exhale followed. 

Today was Sunday. Which meant he was going to see you—something that thrilled him and sent a jolt of nerves zipping along his spine. He dried his mouth on the back of his hand, thinking about how the mere idea of a date used to make him panic. 

Now, he actually looked forward to it. Progress.

He called Robin the second he’d gotten home from school, practically buzzing as he told her he’d finally asked someone out. She’d laughed and teased him that “it took you long enough,” but the care in her voice said she was proud of him. 

He was proud of himself too. 

He had found himself gushing about you—about how you went the extra mile, how you’d insisted on giving him a discount for the kids’ sake, and how your eyes had sparkled with genuine kindness when you raised your hand in his classroom. 

He’d felt his cheeks burn just remembering that moment, how you played into the lighthearted fun. There was a tenderness about you that he found himself needing, now more than ever. If anyone deserved a gentle presence in this life, it was him.

He toweled off his face and ruffled his hair, trying to decide if it was a lost cause to style it so early. The nerves fluttered in his stomach, a far cry from the petrifying dread he was used to. 

This was a nervousness he welcomed—one that signalled something good might be about to happen rather then the more common alternative.

Making his way to the small wardrobe in his bedroom, he flicked through hangers, considering each shirt, each pair of jeans. He wanted to look casual, approachable… anything but intimidating. It wasn’t as if he’d strolled into your shop wearing a suit of armor, but something in him wanted you to see him as safe. 

Maybe it was the teacher in him, or maybe it was the scared kid he used to be, desperate not to give anyone a reason to back away.

His fingers skimmed over a few options before he settled on a soft sweater and a pair of jeans without paint smears or frayed hems. He tugged them on, studying himself in the full-length mirror propped against the wall. The faint scars on his arms peeked out if he rolled the arms too high, and for a moment, he considered covering them. 

But he thought about how you’d looked at him—like he was someone worth smiling at—and decided it was okay.

Or, maybe he'd just keep his sleeves down...

He smoothed the jumper, eradicating the wrinkles, and exhaled. As he patted his pockets—keys, wallet—he felt the steady beat of his heart. He wasn’t used to feeling this light about a date or meeting someone new. The last time he’d tried to let someone in, he’d still been carrying too much baggage. Plus, meeting someone new was normally an appointment with doctor or scientist. 

But the promise of meeting you felt hopeful. 

Like something he deserved.

He arrived early, stomach twisting as he slipped into the small café. The sun was bright but soft, illuminating the polished tables and the row of pastries under their glass display. He chose a seat by the large window—not for the view, not to watch the world pass by, but because he just needed to see the outside. 

The habit was bone-deep, second nature after years of too many surprises, too many nights where danger came from behind, from the dark, from the unseen. 

If he lied, he would say it was just preference, that he liked the open space, the way the light stretched across the table, but the truth was simpler, heavier—he still hated feeling boxed in.

He needed the open sightlines, needed the reassurance that if something—anything—happened, he’d see it coming. He wasn’t scared. Not exactly. But the fear had settled into him like muscle memory, impossible to unlearn.

Taking some calming breaths, he stirred the coffee he’d already ordered in lazy circles. There was something comforting about the swirl of cream in the dark liquid, a momentary distraction from the knot of nerves in his gut.

He glanced at his watch—still early, but not by too much. On an impulse, he waved the barista over and requested a hot chocolate “to have ready” when you arrived. He hoped you’d like it, but if not, he could claim it for himself and get you something else.

Every so often, he looked up from his mug to peer out the window. Eventually, he caught sight of you, weaving through the passers-by and pausing at the crossing. His pulse spiked. 

Suddenly, he didn’t know what to do with his hands. Should he wave through the glass? That might be odd. Instead, he ducked his head, pretending to fiddle with the sugar packets on the table, as though he hadn’t just watched your every step across the street.

When the door opened, he glanced up. The sight of you, cheeks faintly flushed, made his heart do a little flip. You looked around, scanning the tables—your hair bouncing—until your eyes locked on him. As your face broke into a radiant smile, he stood so abruptly that he nearly toppled his coffee, earning a wary glance from the couple seated nearby.

“Hi,” you greeted, stepping forward as he awkwardly leaned in for a brief hug. 

You seemed comfortable with him. That was a good sign. 

“Hey,” he replied, breath catching in his throat. 

“I hope you weren’t waiting too long?”

His face heated. If only you knew how early he’d arrived. 

“Oh no,” he lied with a small shrug, “I’ve only been here a couple of minutes.”

“Well, that’s good,” you said. Your gaze drifted to the steamy mug sitting across from his coffee.

“I, uh, got you a hot chocolate,” he said, scratching at the back of his neck. He tried to sound casual, but his nerves betrayed him, and there was a boyish quality to his voice.

“Presumptuous,” you teased, lifting an eyebrow, and he immediately blushed.

“What? Everyone likes hot chocolate.” He sank into his chair.

“Careful,” you teased further. “You might be spending too much time around second graders.”

He would agree with you there.

“Well, kids are usually right about these things.” He let out a short laugh, tension easing in his shoulders. “Especially chocolate.”

With a grin, you held the mug up to your lips, taking a slow sip. The appreciative hum you made was enough to send a spark of pride through him, and he mentally checked off a little “win” in his mind. 

This was already off to a good start.

You settled in your seat, and he took a moment to appreciate how easily you seemed to fit into this café’s atmosphere—warm and welcoming like the morning light. 

“So,” you asked, “are the kids enjoying their new books?”

“Yeah,” he replied, eyes lighting up. “Love ‘em—kind of surprised at how careful they’re being, too. Usually, I’m taping up ripped pages by now.”

“Seems like they listen to you,” you observed, a gentle smile tugging at your lips.

“Sometimes they do.” He shrugged modestly. “Sometimes, they’ve got a mind of their own. But it’s good—keeps me on my toes.”

Your next question was casual, but he liked the genuine interest behind it.

“How long have you been teaching?”

“Few years now,” he said, gently pushing away the memories that threatened to surface. The path that had led him here hadn’t exactly been simple. “Didn’t go to college right away, and I was kind of drifting. Then I stumbled into a teacher training program, and… here I am.”

It was a more concise version of the truth—just enough to say without letting too many memories surface. Not a lie, but not the whole truth either; he wasn’t about to burden you with that.

“That’s really sweet,” you said softly, a note of sincerity in your tone.

He felt the back of his neck grow warm. 

“I enjoy it,” he confessed. “I always remembered the shy kids—how people used to pick on them. Thought if I can give them a good start, maybe they won’t have to worry as much… maybe they’ll carry that with them.”

He meant every word.

He had a soft spot for the quiet kids, the ones who lacked confidence—the ones he used to overlook. Maybe lifting them up was his way of making amends, a silent apology for the way he once treated his own peers. If they could find their footing a little sooner, maybe they’d never have to deal with a kid like he used to be. 

It was one of his biggest regrets, and he could only hope he was making up for it now.

Your eyes shone, and he watched the way your features softened at his explanation. The honesty in your expression made his chest tighten in the best way. He swallowed, nerves skittering again. He had to keep reminding himself not to monopolise the conversation with talk of the children, no matter how proud he was of them.

“So,” he ventured, quickly shifting gears, “are you new in Hawkins? Haven’t seen you around before.” Then his stomach lurched as your expression grew thoughtful, more pensive.

“Yeah, I inherited the bookstore,” you said, your tone gentle rather than pained. “My grandmother left it to me in her will.”

Mentally he kicked himself.

Way to go, Harrington.

“I’m—I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“It’s all right, really.” You waved away his concern with a small laugh. “I miss her, but being in that space she loved keeps me close to her, you know? It’s like she never really left.”

Relief washed over him, followed by a deeper admiration. You really were lovely, in that rare way some people are, managing to find the bright side even in the things that hurt. He wasn’t sure how you did it, brushed off something as big as death and still had room for warmth. 

He yearned for that—desperately. 

He felt more sure than ever that this date had been a good idea. You asked about the day-to-day with his class, and he found himself relaxed enough to share a few funny stories. There were paint smears and paper-mache disasters, random outbursts during quiet reading time, and the occasional meltdown when a pencil sharpened too short. 

You giggled freely at his over-the-top reenactments, caught up in the way he threw himself into the story with his whole body. He wasn’t just telling it—he was living it, every exaggerated gesture and animated expression pulling you in. 

You could picture his students, enraptured, hanging onto every word as he transformed the classroom into whatever world he wanted. He even did the voices. There was no hesitation, no self-consciousness, just him completely lost in the moment, unguarded and uninhibited, letting it take him somewhere else entirely.

He found himself almost giddy that you were humouring him, that you weren’t just listening but enjoying his retellings. Each chuckle warmed his chest, unfolding something fragile and long-dormant, finally given sunlight. It was a reassurance he hadn’t realised he needed. 

He could still make someone laugh. He could still be light, still be fun, still be someone worth listening to.

Eventually, the conversation began to wind down. You glanced at your watch with a regretful sigh. 

“I’d love to stay longer, but I have to get back and do some admin stuff at the shop.”

“Oh, yeah,” he murmured, unable to completely hide his disappointment. He toyed with the corner of his napkin, eyes flicking from your face to the door. “Of course, don’t wanna eat up your Sunday.”

“But,” you added softly, your own reluctance clear in your voice, “I’d really like to see you again, if you’re up for it?”

His stomach did a joyous flip.

He had done it. 

“Yeah,” he breathed, trying not to sound too eager. “Absolutely—uh—I usually have weekends off, and anytime after five, really—school hours and all.”

“Do you have a pen?” you asked, casting a quick look around for one.

These days he was never without one—always needing something signed or scribbled. He rummaged in his jacket pocket, producing a slightly battered ballpoint. 

“Here.”

You leaned over and wrote your number on a clean napkin, sliding it across the table. 

“That’s the shop phone. I live right upstairs, so it'll reach me.”

He clutched the napkin as if it were precious—and to him it really was—heart thudding like it did the first time he’d asked you out. 

“I’ll call you,” he promised, nodding a few more times than necessary.

You stood, gathering your things, and he quickly rose to his feet as well. With a self-conscious smile, he reached for your jacket, holding it open for you. 

“Here—um, sorry… Force of habit.”

You slipped your arms through the sleeves, cheeks flushing. 

“Oh?”

“Y’know, recess duty—same motion.” He scratched his cheek. “Sorry that’s weird.”

“Not weird at all.” You giggled, giving him a soft, rosy-cheeked grin that made his heart lurch. “...It’s sweet.”

He walked with you to the door and pushed it open. You paused for a moment on the threshold, peering over your shoulder with one last smile.

“See you later, Mr. Harrington,” you teased gently, and he rolled his eyes with a playful groan.

“See you,” he managed, still reveling in the inexplicable joy that you wanted to see him again.

And then you were off, leaving him in the light of the morning that felt warmer. He slipped back into the café, dropping into his seat with a breathless feeling in his chest. Not wanting to go home just yet, he ordered another coffee. His therapist told him it was good for him to be out of the house. 

For the first time in what felt like forever, he realised he’d gone an entire hour without the memories of his past creeping in. No anxiety, no frantic heart pounding from a past he couldn’t escape. 

He smiled to himself as he fiddled with the napkin where your phone number was scrawled. Things were looking up for him, and he was already planning what he was going to say when he called you that evening. 

taglist: @daisy-is-a-writer

[babyjinsu]

love at first sight - anton lee

wc; 996 fluff not proofread not edited

thinking of anton as kole from tokyo sims because of that one outfit on 241228… aaaahh…. 

anton adjusts his mic and squints his eyes at the busy gangnam streets, pushing his glasses up on the sharp bridge of his nose. he scans the crowd for his next victim—interviewee. this is his (and his cameraman, shotaro’s) routine every weekend for their youtube account ‘seoul sims’ where they film street interviews with strangers. their (or the agency’s) goal is to ask unhinged, weird questions. 

initially, it started as a joke (like a social experiment) amongst themselves, among their group of friends—but somehow it blew up when they posted it on their social media. now, they have a growing subscriber count, an inside joke with the ‘fanbase’, and people recognise them mid-interview and in the streets. 

you were on your way home from university. your last class was extended for an extra half an hour, thanks to your annoying classmate who didn’t get how to find adjugate in matrix calculations. you just want to get back home, and rest for the weekend.

anton spots you, a lone figure—your shoulders slightly slouched due to the fact that the straps of your bag are digging into your shoulder. you’re anton’s perfect victim—someone who has had a long day and wants nothing more than a hot shower.

shotaro follows anton’s gaze, “she looks like she’s going to kill you.” he murmurs, which gains a soft chuckle from anton. “yeah, but she’s so pretty though.”

without hesitation, anton steps forward, his small dji microphone in his hand. 

“hey, do you have a minute for an interview?” 

you stop your tracks, looking up to anton with your eyebrows slightly furrowed. what now…? blinking at him and glancing at shotaro who gives you a small smile, you debate whether this is worth your time.

no, obviously… but today’s friday, you suppose you can lend him 5 minutes of your night.

“...okay,” you nod and mutter.

anton smirks, triumphant. he gives shotaro a thumbs up to indicate that he can start recording. anton clears his throat and stands close beside you, and you notice the apparent height difference. 

“great,” anton says, voice smooth and boyish. he brings the mic closer to his mouth first to ask. “okay, what’s a toxic trait about you… that you don’t want to fix?” anton moves his hand to put the mouth in front of your lips.

you let out a soft hum, crossing your arms—obviously in thought. “i guess… academic wise, especially group works, i do most of the work, and then get disappointed when they don’t do anything. but i don’t want them to... because i feel like they can't exceed my expectation.” you purse your lips, nodding. 

anton hums in acknowledgement, “so you can’t work with others? ahh, i get it,” he nods, smiling. “what about in general?” he adds. 

“hm... i don’t trust men. like at all. i think.” you reply, looking at the camera and smiling. anton frowns for a second, looking at you in amusement. “why? experience from a bad relationship?” he asks, genuinely curious now…

it’s crazy to think a pretty girl like you was fumbled by someone… couldn’t be anton.

you shake your head, putting your hands on your hips. “...no? just stories from my friends, i guess. i’d rather not take the risk and just wait for the universe to give me one.” a proud smile form on your face. 

anton laughs, more out of a surprise. just a few minutes ago, you looked like a mere interruption from someone could ascend them to hell—he doesn’t know you’re chill like that. “then does that mean you believe in love at first sight?” 

anton steps it up. 

you roll your eyes, in which shotaro snorts behind the camera. “no. that’s just attraction mixed with delusion,” you shrug. “oh, and i don’t think it’s genuine.” you add.

his heart does this weird and embarrassing thing where it thumps. you don’t believe in love at first sight.

anton freezes, “why do you think so? you’ve never fallen in love with someone you see on the streets?”

you shake your head, pursing your lips once again out of habit. “no…? i mean, yeah i do find strangers attractive but i wouldn’t call it love at first sight… and i don’t think the relationship that comes out of can lasts long either.” 

oh, oh no.

anton’s brain short-circuits the moment the words leave your mouth.

you don’t believe in love at first sight, 

but that’s what he’s experiencing right now.

he blinks too fast as he grips his mic in front of you to keep him grounded. “uh-huh,” he nods stiffly, like a fool. you give him a flat look. “you okay?” 

he hums, turning his body just slightly to face you. “what should i do then?”

you cock your head to the side, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “what do you mean? do what?” you ask, glancing between anton, and the camera pointing at you. 

anton leans down to match your height, the hand that holding the mic covering his mouth to whisper—

“what should i do if i’ve fallen with you at first sight?” 

you let out a soft gasp and pull away, looking at him with wide eyes. for a moment, neither you, or anton say anything—leaving shotaro confused. “is this staged?” you finally ask, blinking hard. 

anton shakes his head, and looks at you with a grin. it feels like it’s just you and anton in the middle of the street. your brain buffering—you open your mouth, close it, narrow your eyes like you’re trying to spot the hidden prank in all of this.

anton simply watches you, head tilted, waiting for an answer. 

“so… are you gonna answer, or are you just going to keep staring at me like that?” 

💭 omg im not proud of this AT ALL. ill probably rewrite ;( i just wanna get anton glasses off my mindddddd.....

[arbiterlexultionis]

Idea because one of the part 1’s was tagged as Danny x Cass and that’s one of my favorite ships:

Fair warning, this wound up significantly longer than planned whoops.

Jason is a stinky, no good, homicidal, feral man child. 0/10. Babs is Not trusting that man with her sister.

Cass on the other hand? She’s responsible, observant, kind, thoughtful and actually has her shit together. Babs is still kinda suspicious about it at first, especially when she finds out Cass is stalking safely escorting and observing Danny (without his knowledge) while he’s out and about, but then she finds out Danny has -10 survival instincts and Cass has saved him from 12 muggings, 4 kidnappings and a distressing number of head on collisions with cars, trains and on one occasion a helicopter.(Danny has zero fear because he’s secretly a super powered crime fighter, but for people who don’t know about that it makes zero sense that he hasn’t wound up dead yet. He kinda already has, he got better.)

After realizing how often Cass is saving Danny Babs gives her seal of approval, at first kinda leaving Cass to do her own thing but after Cass comes to her for advice a few to many times and keeps failing she gets invested. This leads to Babs constantly switching from full feral mode trying to fend off Jason with a broom and turning around to Cass like “I got you a date, here’s a bag of his favorite candy’s, get him a bouquet of flowers on you way he’ll love it. I’m so proud of you!”

On the one hand, Jazz is all for it. 100% into Jason and knows he reciprocates. Assuming Jason can sneak past Babs they are the single most romantic and cheesiest couple in all of Gotham. Babs cannot stop them, and they say that like a threat.

Danny on the other hand has low self esteem and is oblivious. He gets a heart shaped box of chocolates and bouquet of roses and is like “oh wow you’re such a good friend, thanks bestie!” not even thinking for a second it could be even somewhat romantic. Cass is the single least subtle person on the planet while she’s flirting with him because she’s doesn’t want to be subtle but Danny just won’t take the hint. Whether it be in sign or spoken word Cass is waxing poetic about how beautiful his eyes are and how his laugh fills her with joy and Danny’s just like “aww thanks, you make me happy too!” And Cass can read his body language so she knows it’s not a case of him intentionally ignoring her flirting because he doesn’t reciprocate, he’s just so. Fucking. DENSE. Now matter how much Babs wingwomen’s Cass it never works.

After months of Cass trying to woo him Vlad shows up to do Vlad things.

Danny and Cass are at a fancy restaurant for lunch, Cass dressed to the nines and Danny in all his blue jeaned and ratty t-shirted glory, the flowers she brought for him and homemade cookies he offered in exchange with a face flushed crimson sat off to the side. Vlad shows up halfway through and warning bells start blaring in Cass’ head. She takes one look at how Danny tenses the moment he enters, trys to put himself between Vlad and everyone else, flinch’s at every movement and more. Sees how scared he is. Sees how despite obviously being scared, damn near traumatized, he’s also obviously ready to fight. Vlad starts talking shit and just tells Danny he’s coming home with him to which Danny, understandably, says no, go to hell. Vlad, who has been spending Months tracking down Danny and Jazz, looses his shit. “No? No! You think you can say No to Me!? I OWN you! You are Mine, Little Badger. You will do as I tell you, when I tell you, no matter what I tell you, boy.” Half way through a smug smile spits across his face as he begins to withdraw some sort of custom made taser. He keeps it half hidden in his sleeve and turns to hide it from the crowd that’s gathered to watch the scene he’s making. Cass sees the way Danny’s eyes lock onto the device. Sees how Vlad taps it with his finger, turning it this way and that, flicking his wrist once or twice. Sees how Danny flinch’s at every movement, how Vlad seems almost giddy at every sign of fear and choked on breath. Vlad brings his other hand up almost casually, sets it on Danny’s shoulder almost gently. But Cass sees it, sees it all. Sees the hunger-possessive-obsessive-need in Vlad’s stance. Sees how the moment his hand lands on Danny shoulder it shifts into a white knuckled grip for an ever so brief moment, fingers digging into skin as his smug grin shift into a sickeningly sweet imitation of fatherly affection as he turns to the crowd to try and apologize for “his boy” causing such a ruckus, assuring them that he “Will be giving the child a very stern talking to” and something in her brain screams that Danny’s caution and fear, hi need to protect the people around him from the man in front of him is a learned response.

Vlad means his little I Own You speech as in “I am your godfather, your parents are dead and you are my evil apprentice.” He’s just referring to all the evil apprentice stuff that Danny refuses to do. But Cass, while fairly certain that Danny is some flavor of meta human has deliberately chosen to respect his privacy and not dig up all the answers until he trust her enough to tell her/something happens to force her hand, doesn’t know about any phantom stuff and as a result comes to some slightly different conclusions. Danny’s shifting his feet to something closer to a proper stance, muscles tensing like a coiled spring as his eyes dart around, taking in the environment, finding what he can use as a weapon, which civilians he needs to look out for, coming up with a plan to disarm Vlad. Cass sees all this, knows that Danny can and will defend himself. She also knows that she can afford significantly better lowers than him and Jazz.

So Cass Fucking Lunges for Vlad. She waits until he looks just barely far enough away for her to not be in his peripheral vision. As she vaults over the table it does not creek and shake, and nothing on it is disturbed. No sound is made and Vlad receives no warning. In less then a second he goes from smooth talking the public into not calling CPS on him because of how much of a pain it was to find people that would accept his bribes the last time to being laid out on the floor with a broken nose and 110 pounds of vengeance wailing on him. Unable to use his ghost abilities with all the witnesses he tries to get her with the Plasmius Maximus, because while it’s not deigned for humans a tasers a taser. Only for Cass to smoothly disarm and then damn near punch him in the throat with his own weapon before she tags him two more times in the torso before stashing it away and going back to beating the guano out of him with her bare hands. Eventually she gets up, stomping on a kidney for good measure, before turning around and seeing Danny, still tense and ready to fight, his eyes scanning over her, checking for injuries in the same way Alfred always does. When he confirms she’s unharmed, a tiny portion of the tenseness and nerves that claimed him when Vlad walked in leaves his shoulders and he takes a breath for the first time in minutes, having seemingly not even realized he’d stopped breathing at some point. Cass promptly turns back around to plant her heel in Vlad’s liver before returning to Danny and grabbing his free hand, his other already holding the cookies and flowers, and the two flee the restaurant in nearly a dead sprint with Cass leaving a few hundreds on the table for the food and trouble. Once they’re a few blocks away they stop, and Danny can’t help but stare. Can’t help but think that Cass’ now wind swept and messy hair looks far more beautiful then it ever has before, that the bright red of the blood splattered on her cheeks like constellations in the night sky brings out the blue in her eyes better than any make up ever could. Can’t help but remember the way his nearly still heart beat twice at the way she surged forth to protect.

Can’t help but speak in an oh so soft whisper, very nearly a prayer. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“No, I don’t mean as a friend. I, like, love you love you.”

“I love you too.”

“No, like, romantically. I love you romantically. I know you don’t feel the same, but I’ve felt this way so long and I need you to know. I still want to be friends though. If you’ll let me. If you don’t think I’m just some cree-”

In an instant she pulls him in until he’s safely wrapped in her arms, leaning in until her forehead gently wrest on his and their noses barely touch. He can feel her breath on his lips as she speaks.

“I love you, romantically. Can I kiss you?” Seconds pass before Cass’ hand flys to the com in her ear. “Babs, he fainted! What do I do?”

This is way to long as is and it’s late so I tried to dump the rest of my thought in the tags but apparently there’s limits on the length and number of tags. So I might have to do a separate post about Jazz and Jason.

can we connect the 'Duke gave Jason Jazz's number' ask with the ask of 'Babs being Jazz and Danny's sister'?

(Sure :3)

Jason gets Jazz's number, Babs is their sister

When Duke walked into the Clocktower, he paused in place at seeing the people on her screen.

"Uh. Babs? What's that?"

Barbara turned and blinked tired, exhausted eyes. She had spent several sleepless nights just researching everything she could find on her siblings.

She was so, so proud of them, especially because Danny was going to school to be an astronaut and Jazz had already graduated, currently working within Arkham Asylum as a fair and hard working psychiatrist.

"This? It's nothing," she said absentmindedly. Like hell she was going to let any of the vigilantes she knew linger around or pester her darling siblings!

"... that's a picture of Jazz Fenton."

Barbara blinked. "You know her?"

"Yeah, sometimes Jazz volunteers at Gotham University to tutor people. She helps me with my anatomy classes," Duke explained.

A first witness account about her siblings from someone she knew!

"Tell me more," Barbara said eagerly.

Duke crossed his arms. "Tell me why you're looking into her."

Barbara sighed deeply. Then she said, "We're half siblings. I found out that she and my half-brother are in Gotham so I just wanted to learn more about them. I never met them before because my biological mom left when I was young."

Duke's eyebrows rose. Then he said, "Huh. Well, alright. Jazz is really nice. She explains things really well and she's also really patient. Everyone wants her to tutor them, but she's pretty busy so you have to schedule her in advance sometimes. I have her number, so I usually get tutored by her often. She also talks a lot? But she's super nice!"

Barbara nodded. She had hacked into several places and had already figured out most of her sibling's personality traits.

Jazz was an overachiever, eager to please, helpful, chatty, and a bit of a know it all. Danny, meanwhile, was a bit antisocial, but very kind, thoughtful, clever, and quick to help others.

Had she mentioned that she was very proud of them? She wanted desperately to meet them in person one day.

Duke then continued with a small laugh, "Y'know, if nothing else happens, I think you'll see your siblings again. Maybe even as in-laws! Jazz gave Jason her number the other day and he's been super eager to ask her out."

All time seemed to freeze. It was like a record scratch that turned off the music.

Barbara stared at him. "Excuse me?"

Even if Duke wasn't a meta that could predict the future, he could already feel the danger.

"Uh."

".... did you just say that Jason is trying to ask out my adorable little sister? Jason? Jason who once killed 8 people and put their decapitated heads in a duffel bag? Jason who lives in a trashy apartment because he's too busy committing crime to clean it? Jason who forgets to shower sometimes because he gets lazy?"

"............ yes?" Duke sounded afraid.

Barbara turned around to her computer again, bringing up more files. This time, they were named after Jason and Red Hood.

"Leave. You didn't see anything here."

Duke immediately bowed. "Yes, ma'am. Please spare me."

"You'll live only because you can tell me more about Jazz."

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you, ma'am." Then he scrambled out of the Clocktower. RIP Jason. You will be missed.

[getoistic]

I’ve had a sleepless night, and all I can think of is fucking soft subby sleepless roommate Gojo to unconsciousness. (1.7k words) (18+)

art by me, referenced art donaldson from challengers | artblog: @wrtchdrtt

“Oh, you poor baby, insomnia strikes again, huh?” Your voice drips with derision as you enter the living room in the wee hours of the morning.  It was a rare occurrence for you, but Satoru, on the other hand, seemed to live on the couch, rarely using his room.

During the day, he pesters you. He yaps mindlessly as he sits on your bed, content with your noncommittal hums in response as you work on your desk.

You found yourself drawn to the living room at the most inconvenient times, half in deep sleep, half aware of frustrated pacing and soft murmuring outside your door.

As a result, you found yourself growling at the man-child as he pouted to the sun and back.

And yet you were close to breaking, your sarcasm thinly veiling the truth. You wanted to take care of him.

His lips were puffy and abused, he was anxious— he chewed on them when he got like this. His wide, pretty cotton candy eyes pleaded at you. He was so sweet that your teeth ached just from looking at him.

He wanted something—pouting and whining like a cat denied cream. 

“‘M so tired, ‘n I can’t sleep.” He grunted. Still holding a wall, not knowing if it was safe to break.

Your bare feet padded against cold marble floors, sleep shorts sliding up your ass. You slid your hands out of the pockets of the zip up hoodie you had stolen from him. “Want me to fuck you to sleep?”

He frowned, on edge. Eyes shifting all over you, settling on your cold gaze. “Don’t fuck with me.” His pout soured.

“I’m not. You have all this pent-up anxious energy about you, and it’s putting me on edge to see you so tense. We’re friends. Let me help you relax.”

“You’re serious…” his lips twisted to the side, contemplating your offer. “If I say yes…I know it can become a requirement for me to sleep; I am needy like that.” His cocky grin was sweet, and you couldn't wait to see it wiped clean, to hear him whining with pleasure..

“Then we can just consider ‘fucking to sleep’ as part of our night routine. Now come on, the night is running away from us.” You turned and pranced to your room, knowing he would be quick to follow. Not having to turn back to feel him beside you, unnaturally silent footsteps and all.

His eyes shifted as they anxiously flitted about the room as if it was the first time in your bedroom. He was nervous but you had been prepared for that.

He had been your roommate for years, friend for longer, so you knew what it was like for him to be fully hard. Right now, he was at best half-mast.

He needed to lose that chip on his shoulder. Needed to let go. You yanked on his hand, cocking your head to get him to sit on your bed. He stayed put. 

You pursed your lips as you slid onto the bed, slipping your legs behind you, flimsy shorts not leaving anything to the imagination.

His eyes locked on your lap, gaze intense and transfixed. He was a proud man. “Why are you so tense? Come on, Toru, you’ll never sleep like that. Let go— it’s just us here. No one’s watching but me, pretty boy. What are you so afraid of?”

He sighed, his shoulders drooping with exhaustion. You watched with rapt attention as he slid off his shirt in one swift movement before crawling to the edge of the bed. Holy fuck. His stomach pressed against the mattress, legs curled around the bed’s edge, his upper body sprawled next to you. Your hands quickly slid into his scalp, fingers threading through his soft, light hair, nails scratching his sensitive skin. He whimpered, back arching in response, sleep pants bunching around his hips and thighs. His head shifted to rest completely in your lap.

“You are so beautiful, Toru. I’m so glad you trust me with this.” ou gently curled your fingers around tufts of his pale hair, pulling his head back slightly. Your other hand glided gently, stroking down the side of his head toward his cheek.

He complied with the movement, turning his head and raising his gaze to meet yours. Your heart clenched with need. You loved him—your roommate, your close friend—and you needed him in ways that went beyond the platonic and sexual— you needed to make him yours. “Pretty boy… Look at you, so soft for me. Tell me, Toru, how long has it been since anyone has had you like this?”

He sighed in response.

“I need a verbal answer, baby.” You gently swiped your thumb against his cheek, amused at his pout. 

“No one, I don’t trust anyone but you, you know that.”

“Yes, but it’s nice hearing it from your pretty mouth. Come here, let me kiss you. Let me kiss those beautiful lips of yours…”

Your hands ghosted over smooth, flushed skin. His muscles shifted as he moved, taut with tension. He knelt beside you. You hummed in pleasure as his arms wrapped around your waist, your own around his shoulders, pulling him close.

He tasted sweet like you knew he would. You licked into his mouth, tugging at soft hair strands. He shivered, your kisses prompting soft dulcet sounds from deep in his throat. 

His grip was tight on your waist, his fingers skimming underneath the large hoodie— touch needy and warm— clenching and unclenching against your skin.

“You can— mhm— touch, you know?” You panted between kisses, giving him all the permission he needed to slide long fingers up your sides, body shaking when his hands found your bare breasts. You felt his hips jerk beside yours. You sighed in contentment as rolled your nippled between his fingers, swell of your tits supported by his palms.

“Fuck— please!” He chants your name like a prayer. And ever the benevolent lover, you take heed to his pleas. You force your weight on top of him, bracing your hands on his shoulders and sliding one thigh over his lap. 

“Arms up, pretty boy.” You slide your fingers under his cotton shirt, pulling it over his head and pressing his back against the mattress. You focus on the next task, curling your fingers under his sleep pants and sliding them down his long, lean legs. 

His pretty flushed cock is finally yours to touch. Your ass resting right above his knees, you have him spread out in front off you like an offer. You brace one hand on his hip, the other closing around his cock. His hips buck up, and he lets out the most delicious, needy sound. Your cunt clenches with need, cotton panties drenched through by that point. 

Precome dribbles from his tip, and your thumb swipes at it, smearing it over his cockhead, fingers curled tight around his length. If this is what it takes for him to writhe under you, hands curling around the bedsheets…

You shift forward, resting your clothed core against his erection. His body jerks, hands flying toward your hips. Your whole weight falls on his cock, and you knew it would be good, but

“Please, please— move” Words accompany his needy groans of pleasure. His hips buck up against you. You throw your head back as you roll your hips. The friction is so good. But you need more.

You lift your hips, his eyes flashing toward you with betrayal, you quickly ease away with a soft kiss to the corner of his lips. 

You slowly unzip the hoodie, letting it fall from your shoulders. He licks his lips, hands rejoining your nipples. Next you crook your thumbs under the waistband of your shorts and panties, sliding them off, you hear his breath hitch in response.

Your hips hovered over his, his voice is soft and whiny, “So beautiful. Those shorts haunt my dreams. I— please,”

 You smiled softly at your boy, “Needy Toru. You should know I wear those shorts just for you.” You didn’t give him time to respond, gripping his length, aligning it to your center and pressing down. Your boy was huge, your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you plunged down. Jaw slackened as you sank into him fully. “God— fuck— Toru— mmh…”

You still for a moment, adjusting to his size. Your boy is impatient, his hips jerk softly, hands kneading your breasts.

He stares up at you with wide dilated eyes. So pretty. Your own are hooded. You begin to move slowly. Your moans and his pleas echoing through the room.

“Please, please, fas— faster!” Hands moving from your moving tits to your ass, prompting you to move faster, hands planted on his chest, you moved your hips up and down, head thrown back, you let yourself feel. God, it was heavenly; it was bordering on painful how he split you open.

You felt him move, didn’t care enough to open your clenched eyes, until— fingers pressed asgainst your clit. Your hips stuttered, cunt clenching around him. He whined loudly.

“’S so good, you feel so good…” His voice came out in broken segments.

Your pace grew frantic, chasing the precipice. He moved again, back lifting from the mattress. Lips searching your neck, he kissed your collarbone harshly, before lapping up your neck, his fingers moving fast against your clit. Your limbs locked as he pushed you off the precipice pussy clenching harshly around him, he panted against your neck following your fall. This time, when his back slumped against the mattress, you lay with him, chest to chest.

It took you a few moments to come down. You kissed him in the glow, he tensed underneath you.

“We forgot a condom…” His voice was breathless, and you could read his barely-hidden, pleased tone. You laughed.

“I’m on birth control, and you know that dummy.”

“Damn—guess I’ll have to find another to trap you into being stuck with me.”

“Idiot, you’re mine now. No take backs, we signed a lease.”

He hummed pleased, yawning loudly. No need for round two then.

And he was so sweet, finally asleep underneath you. Now that you finally had him, there was no way you were letting him go. He was yours, whether he liked it or not.

He did. He really, really did.

[rafescherie]

warningᝰ.ᐟ — MDNI. stepbro!rafe, stepcest, coercion & manipulation.

it starts off small — noticing the way your eyes linger on him whenever he speaks, your eye contact never broken the entire conversation, like you were a school girl with a crush, completely smitten and overwhelmed with your own delusion. your mind drives you crazy — was he watching the way you suckled on your cherry red popsicle on purpose, or was it just your pretty little head playing tricks on you? so desperate for your own stepbrother that you were imagining him feeling the same way you did for him?

stepbro!rafe loves watching the shade of red that flushes your pretty face everytime he gives you the simplest of compliments. you get so flustered from a single crumb of his attention, it has his cock straining against the material of his khakis. it was like your entire world revolved around him, and knowing the attention he clearly lacked from his parental, this new found obsession of yours was only fuelling him to need you too.

he’s so possessive, too. if you wear a skirt that’s too short, or a shirt that shows too much, he’s instantly on your case about it — “change out of that shit, now.” except it’s his own jealously issues fuelling the control, unable to fathom other men would be looking at you wearing the shit you did. “m’jus looking out for you, kid. what kind of big brother would i be if i didn’t?”

stepbro!rafe who’s able to manipulate your stupid little brain into thinking rubbing against each other was okay… it’s just dry humping, it’s not like you’re seeing each other nude, right? the whimpers you let out are so delicious as you needily rub your aching pussy against his thick clothed cock, feeling that familiar wet patch build against the fabric when he cums in his khakis from the friction alone.

stepbro!rafe who gradually eases you into worse things — running his hands over your soft torso and waist while you desperately grind against him, feeling his rough fingers dig into the fat of your breasts. soon enough, he’s rubbing his cock against the wet fabric of your panties that cling to your swollen pussy lips, his creamy cum mixed so perfectly with your own arousal that it’s hard to tell where his begins and yours ends.

stepbro!rafe who has you convincing him to ‘just stick the tip in.’ you had grown tired of the aching friction in your poor cunt, pussy clenching at the mere idea of being stretched open and fucked into. he’s smugly muttering about how dirty you are, how this was so disgusting and gross of you, whole time this was his plan all along. telling you he’s ‘proud of ya’ after you both finish for finally growing a back bone and going after what you want. he has to stop himself from cumming as his thick tip breaches your warm tight entrance for the first time, like he was some stupid teenage boy having sex for the first time.

bonus — he’s definitely pressing a hard kiss against your temple, calloused large hand squeezing your ass cheek while he subtly encourages & shames you, saying he knew you were just as sick and gross as he was for enjoying this shit, he’s your brother by marriage, after all.

absolutely has pictures of you in his hidden folder — hand tangled in your hair as he guided your pretty little mouth on his heavy cock while mascara ran down your face, too cock-drunk to notice the flash of his phone. definitely uses it as blackmail, but you secretly love it, the thrill of your friends and family finding out you were such a needy slut for your own stepbrother had your panties soaked and legs weak.

stepbro!rafe who has your legs spread wide open, tongue lapping at your heat while you cover your own mouth, the sound of his father pacing around the hallway right outside your door has your heart fluttering against your chest. the muffled whimpers you let out are pathetic really, but it’s not to make noise when his tongue worked so well against your soaked folds, mixing his own saliva with your arousal until you’re squirming against his tongue as you cum.

stepbro!rafe who has you leaking his cum onto your panties the whole night, ego high just thinking about how he has his precious sperm oozing out of your tight, warm cunt while your entire family goes out to eat at a fancy restaurant. the things your parents would say if they found out… omg. (,,> ᴗ <,,)

and i mean, it’s not so wrong, right? your parents were on the verge of divorce, spending more time apart than together. soon, you and rafe wouldn’t even be step-siblings, which served well in your mind to remind you of this predicament you had found yourself in with rafe cameron, your stepbrother, of all people.

[cheralith]

character ; shidou ryusei || wc ; 690 a/n ; just something i conjured during my lunch break, sorry for any errors!

it wasn't uncommon for artist!shidou to sometimes use you as a reference whenever he was conjuring his latest piece, often finding ease in working with your body than others. you're a long-term friend of his that has seen his creations even before he gained a spotlight from art curators all over the nation and you've seen how his creativity has exponentially flourished through the years. he had gone from a starving artist to being showcased in acclaimed museums and art exhibits in just a few years time and you couldn't be more proud of him.

he likes to use you as a real-life dummy, telling you to come over to his studio so position your body as he pleases. sometimes you'd get stiff and he'd yell at you, frustrated, but you'd turn your nose up and tell him to behave or else you'll leave. that usually puts him back into his place.

he's built his reputation for being rather... eccentric... when he's not calmly creating, so you suppose it just helps his persona image to gain more attention from the public. you blame it on the one showcasing where he was extremely upset that his manager insisted he displayed a certain sculpture he wasn't content with, and ended up completely destroying it amidst the showcase in front of hundreds of people to prove a point.

"here's to the shitheads that think they know art better than the artists themselves," he had heaved, a smirk being thrown at the camera that was showcasing the entire thing live. "i decide what is art. not you."

he's been drawing blanks for awhile now and calls you to come over to his studio after work and you see him preparing a large slab of clay.

"sit," he says, not looking back at you and juts his head to a nearby stool.

"what sort of pose do you need me to do this time?" you ask with a sigh, heaving your workbag down and preparing your limbs to position themselves into whatever awkward position shidou wants.

"nah, nothing of that sort," he shakes his head, "you just gotta sit there and look pretty, doll."

"huh?" you're flabbergasted. you might actually leave the studio without a weird pain in your arms for the first time.

"i'm practicing realism," he says simply. "obviously can't use a flat picture, can't get all the right shadows and angles. so i need a 3d reference."

it struck you as odd shidou was known for his absurd, abstract pieces that seem to defy all the lines that contemporary art has ironically restricted upon itself. his pieces were nothing less of eye-catching, his sculptures often being made out of whatever material shidou could get his hands on, his paintings lively with color and shapes and texture.

but you don't question it any further and sit yourself down in front of him. he goes to touch your face a few times to just analyze its angles and highlights, but the closeness of him making heat rise on your face. he gets to work eventually, starting with your head. and he asks you to come to his studio for a solid week or so, just simply working on nothing else except creating an insanely realistic replica of your face from the slab of clay. you've never seen him so concentrated before on an art piece.

on the last day, where the final touchups have been sealed, you bid him goodbye in the late evening, as he's just cleaning up some minor details. just before you enter your car, however, you groan and realize you had forgotten your phone in his studio and trail back into the building.

when you approach door, however, you peer silently inside just to make sure he's in there and he is.

but he's still, staring at the sculpture at your calm face rather quietly... intently. you open your mouth to say something to alert him you were here to pick up your phone, but words falter when shidou cups your sculpture's face and places his lips on the sculpture's own pair, cold clay lips meeting the warmth of his.

[vasilissadragomir]

no i see the vision completely and you wouldn’t even need to kill the love triangle outright!! just centering their friendship over the love/conflict with peeta would make so much of a difference.

and as i wrote this, i realized this is EXACTLY how the trilogy went from gale’s perspective.

like imagine if gale actually believed her when she said she was acting for the cameras because he could tell how uncomfortable she was in the cave. they’re best friends—he truly sees her and knows her. he knows how she thinks and, also, understands the strategy. he’s proud she’s doing what she can to survive, to come home to her family. to him. sure, he’s a bit miffed about The Kiss, but he’s already been surprised by katniss’ acting skills, so maybe she is better than he realized. and when she tells him it was all haymitch’s idea, he chooses to believe her.

and then six months of not talking to peeta confirms what he was already 99% sure of, that she’s not actually interested in peeta. so gale tries to be there for her and understand what the games were like. and her increasing affection MUST be a sign he’s getting it right, and not a result of her desperately clinging to the ONE thing at home that, at face value, hasn’t seemed to change, seeking what’s no longer there in the singular act of being out in the woods with him that used to bring her comfort, right?

and when he kisses her, it’s what he truly believes to be a ramp-up of what’s already been happening. so he’s confused when she doesn’t fall right into his arms, head over heels in love. and he’s even more confused when she goes on the victory tour and comes back with a newfound interest in peeta. then katniss is telling him that about snow’s threat, and the tension in the districts, and all the sudden he understands why she’s distracted from romance. why she’s not ready to pick up where they left off. but what he doesn’t get is why NOW she wants to run, when she never did before. now, when she has actual power and can use it to light the real spark of revolution and change the fate of the people of the districts. that’s bigger than any romance they may or may not have.

and yes, he knows she didn’t ask for that power, he knows the risks just as well as she does, but to not use it is unforgivable. but before he can process their latest divide, he’s been whipped, and she’s kissing him. and he knows she’s solidly picked him. but then the reading of the card happens, and they both know she’s going to die. and as he’s spending his few precious hours of free time training her, peeta, and haymitch for the games, he realizes she’s going to die not just because of snow, but because he’s training katniss on how to save peeta. he sees that, even if there was a chance she’d survive, she’d still pick peeta over herself. she’d rather die than come home to him again. and it’s especially devastating because, as he comes to know peeta, he understands why.

it’s all cut and dry until he watches peeta open the locket on the beach and sees his own face on the giant screen in the town square. peeta surely knows katniss intends to die for him to live, so why would he use gale to try and change her mind?

and then it clicks. peeta isn’t from the seam. he doesn’t understand owing. he doesn’t get that katniss cannot live while peeta dies. not just because she cares about him, but because she still owes him so much. so, from peeta’s perspective, it must mean she needs reminding of someone that she cares about more than peeta. and peeta thinks that’s gale. and because peeta has proven by his actions in both games that he has so little self-worth, gale knows for sure that peeta would happily die if it gave katniss a chance to live.

for a moment, he feels foolishly and selfishly hopeful that even his competitor for katniss’ heart thinks gale is her true love. but then he watches The Kiss Part II, and it all comes crashing down again. because in this moment where peeta expresses his vulnerability, his pain, she kisses him, just as she kissed gale after his whipping. which means that when she kissed gale, it was because he was in pain. except, when she kissed him, it wasn’t at all like how she’s kissing peeta right now. there’s a desperation in her actions on the beach that never existed with him. and he comes to the conclusion that while she initiates kisses with both of them because they’re in pain, she kisses peeta like that because she can’t survive without him. what he doesn’t know is if it’s because she owes him or because she loves him.

but he doesn’t have any time to figure it out because suddenly he has to save whoever he can from the annihilation of his town. he saves his family and hers, but he can’t get peeta’s. so now gale owes peeta, too. everyone has lost everyone and everything. he’s so blinded by the trauma and the anger and the hatred that something as frivolous as who katniss loves is entirely irrelevant. all that matters is that she gets out of the arena. and when he sees her, he’s so relieved that his best friend escaped again and so, so sad that he has to tell her that her home was destroyed that he just wants his friend. for her to be there for him like he tried to be there for her after her first games. to be there for him in a way she couldn’t be as he spent a whole year going into the mines all day every day and watching his family starve.

but peeta didn’t come with her. she goes into a state of psychosis, so she can’t be there for gale because she can’t even function herself. and he knows he’s right that she can’t survive without peeta. he’s so angry at the people who did this to her, who took his best friend and replaced her with a shell of a person, who destroyed his home and 90% of his community, that he’s prepared to do anything to end their power. he knows he can help, too. snares, traps, strategy. he was born for this. he’s been training for this his whole life. and finally, he’s being recognized for it, by none other than the leader of the rebellion.

katniss never wanted the power she got, but he did. not for selfish reasons. but because he knew he had it in him to change the world. and now, for the first time, he has some. for the first time, he’s not being told to quiet down or forget about his ideas, his beliefs, his feelings. the leader of the rebellion is not just entertaining, but validating his worldview. she values his opinions enough to use them. and he wants katniss to come back so bad so he can share this with her, like they used to in the woods. so they can be themselves again.

and slowly but surely, she does come back. they hunt, they talk, they eat. they argue, yes, more than ever, but she’s still not recovered and, well, neither is he. he’s accepted that she chose peeta, even though he hasn’t figured out if she chose him because she owes him or loves him. sure, there’s a sliver of hope that she chose peeta because she owes him, but it’s not that important right now, because at least he has his best friend. a best friend he can fight alongside for their freedom in district 8, just as he they always dreamed of.

until he doesn’t. because he goes to rescue peeta. mostly for her, but also for him, because of that damn sliver of hope. and a little for peeta, because he really is annoyingly likable. but when he returns wounded, he knows she’s in the hospital for peeta. when she looks at him, she’s seeing right through him. confirming he’s alive and nothing more.

so when she says she’s writing peeta off and is kissing him while they’re in 2, he knows she doesn’t mean it, even if she doesn’t realize it yet. because she’s reckless in a way she’s never really been before, and he knows her. he knows that the moment that peeta returned hijacked, she lost her will to live. she’d rather die than live on a planet where peeta, the real peeta, doesn’t exist. so he finally understands it doesn’t matter if she chose peeta because she owes him or because she loves him—either way, she can’t survive without him.

but he doesn’t really have the wherewithal to be hurt about anything romantic because of the look in her eyes when he proposes his plan for the nut. his brilliant plan that no one, none of the experienced adults, none of the victors, even, were able to come up with. the plan coin herself agreed with. because this plan, despite its efficacy, has irrevocably changed something between them. and yes, it’s been changing for a while, but not to this extent. the way she’s looking at him, as if he suggested killing a mountain full of innocent people, is not a look she’ll ever take back.

it takes watching the boulders tumble down the mountain, hearing the rumble of the avalanche, smelling the blood from the wounded, for him to see what she sees. his father, her father, condemned to a death in the mines to which they were shackled. these were not innocents, no, but they were people. people oppressed by the capitol, just like him. not quite as bad, much like the people from town in 12. but not taking tesserae didn’t spare them in the end, did it? his stomach is in knots, but coin assures him that it was for the good of the cause. and not just the cause, but for the majority of the people in district 2. so he decides to believe the ends justify the means.

they’re sent to fight. and at least he and katniss are on the same side. because he knows she’s there to kill snow. and while he’s there to win the war, his loyalties to his friend will always take precedent. especially since her goals and his happen to be aligned. but then peeta is sent to join their unit. and he knows that the only person who could have authorized that is coin. the very same person he’d followed down the path of trapping and killing a whole mountain full of miners.

at this point, gale knows the chance of katniss ending up with him are gone. it’s confirmed by her outburst, her anger, and ultimately, her kissing him outside the sewer. but he needs to salvage their friendship, because at this point the only other person he thought he could trust has made a choice that would unequivocally sentence katniss to death.

so the only thing left to do to keep their relationship alive is to do what is necessary to restore katniss’ will to live. which means helping peeta remember who he is. and to do that, peeta needs to know what’s real and what’s not real. especially about katniss herself. so, that night in tigris’ cellar, gale lays it out for him, clear as day. he explains katniss’ thought process so that peeta can understand her calculus. he knows it to be true because he knows her like he knows no one else. or at least he thought he did. because when he’s captured, she doesn’t shoot him.

when the second bomb explodes, he knows that everything he believed, everything he thought he knew, was wrong. he can tell because beetee feels the same. coin didn’t just use their brains. she weaponized their anger. gale wasn’t sure he was okay with that when he was trapping an enemy. but now, now that prim, someone he loved like his own sister, was in that pen, he knows it was all wrong. katniss had been right. and the thing that changed between the katniss in the woods the morning of her reaping and the katniss in this hospital bed in the president’s mansion was peeta. so when he tells her that the only thing he had going for him was protecting her family, he didn’t mean romantically. he means as a friend.

because gale realizes that even though he thought he couldn’t survive without katniss, the truth is that he can. he might love her now, but what he needs his own dandelion in the spring. so, once katniss does what must be done, he goes back to the place where he first felt the shift. the place where the mountain tumbled. his first arena. and there, he meets a girl. a girl with tan skin and soulful brown eyes. a girl who loves district 2 and its people and shows him the beauty in this place he hated enough for destroy. a girl who loves more than she hates. a girl who makes him want more than just to survival—she makes him want to live.

I know the love triangle represented Katniss choosing between war and peace but like. I would have loved Gale and Katniss just being besties. Best friends who could tell each other everything.katniss would get home from the victory tour giggling and kicking her feet about Peeta with Gale nodding as he listens to her yap. Gale telling Katniss the tea that happened while she was away. Katniss watching her best friend slowly get radicalized and manipulated by Coin.

Katniss's best friend, who she could tell anything to, being the one who caused Prim's death in the end.

[andreilslovechild]

A Study on Aaron Minyard and Hatred

I've been in this fandom for years now. somewhere around 5 years or so. and since I've been here there's always been a distinct theme in how people talk about the brother of our beloved main love interest. see people speak about aaron in two ways mainly. the first way is, of course, labeling him as hateful and homophobic and disliking him because he dislikes Neil. the second way is building on his more personable characteristics and having him paired with someone else like Katelyn or Kevin to mellow him out. both of those are all well and good, everyone is entitled to their opinions and all, but I've never quite seen people look at both of those sides at the same time so I want to try and consolidate my thoughts on the matter.

first of all, I personally rarely consider aaron inherently hateful in my own understanding of him. annoyed or disgusted sure, but not necessarily hateful. mainly that hate is focused on three people from what the fandom talks about: Neil, Andrew, and Nicky. I'm using hate a broad term for dislike just for the ease of things right now so don't yell at me, but I think it fair to say the fandom typically pits these three up against aaron in a way that makes aaron look like the bad guy a lot of the time.

if I'm honest, I never really felt he hated Neil more than just didn't care much. at least until he found out about him and Andrew and gave him his version of the shovel talk. maybe a bit when Neil used Katelyn against him. but overall I never quite got it when people said he hated Neil, let alone hated him for "no reason". like id be annoyed too if a guy waltzed onto my college sports team while im studying premed, and turned out to be the long-lost son of a serial killer with a mouth so big it was a wonder hes still alive. plus he was super shady before all that was revealed too, but aaron was still pretty neutral when Andrew brought Neil into the monsters. he even spoke back to the upperclassmen when they freaked out about Neil sitting with the monsters. if you all need me to get the quotes I will, but it's currently like 2am, and I just can't be asked right now lmao. either way, the only time aaron really hates Neil in the books is when he uses Kate against him to get him to go to therapy. which was done for his own good in the long run, and I doubt aaron stayed upset about it for too long. plus we always have to be careful here because we are seeing things from Neil's perspective, someone who is inherently an unreliable narrator in the story.

in Nicky's case, there's a lot to consider. aaron definitely does and says some things (again not finding specifics rn because it's 2am) that are hurtful to him, or offensive. I certainly don't really blame people for reading it as homophobic on a surface level. but that's exactly what it is. surface level. his feelings about Nicky are probably the second most complex in this instance. because Nicky is his cousin, caregiver, friend, whatever you want to call him. They're close, they mean something to each other. but aaron also grew up with Tilda, probably talking with his family over the phone every few months, seeing them maybe once a year or two. when aaron moved to South Carolina he was 13. Nicky would have been 17. aaron probably spent a lot of time with him at first to avoid being alone before he made friends himself. used him as an excuse to get out of being around Tilda alone. which undoubtedly left him susceptible to Luther's preaching. I could make a whole other post on this alone. Still, he would have known Nicky was gay and that it was "wrong". He likely saw only his mask, not the depression inside because Nicky would have wanted to be happy with his cousin. he probably was around when Nicky went to Germany and then came back loud and proud, telling him about a man named Erik and finally standing up to his parents. to us, it's inspirational, exciting even, but for aaron it was like Nicky was abandoning him. He had gotten through Nicky being gone with drugs and staying out of the house as much as possible, but now knowing Nicky was leaving him there alone with his mom for what he assumed would be forever would have hit him hard. he never hated Nicky for being gay. he was angry he had left him, and he had grown up surrounded by the ideals Luther preached and likely his mom did too. with that, plus how uncomfortable it would be to have your cousin being openly sexual around you to an extreme extent like Nicky, I don't blame him really for how he reacted. he was disgusted by the thought of his cousin having sex, not who it was with. I can't remember if his disliking Erik is a canon or fanon thing. Still, he disliked him for taking Nicky away, not because he was a guy. Long story short I don't think aaron ever truly hated Nicky or was truly homophobic. I think he was just a scared kid who learned the wrong words and didn't know how to be vulnerable.

Andrew. good old Andrew. the most complicated relationship in Aaron's life save maybe his mom. I think we all know aaron doesn't hate Andrew. just like Andrew doesn't hate aaron. it's impossible for them to hate each other because they are so irrevocably tangled up and tied to each other's lives. from the second they found out about each other, everything they've done has been for the other in some way. mostly on Andrew's end sure but aaron has also done his share. see out of everyone here I think Andrew is the person that aaron thought he hated the most. he was angry about Tilda, about the drugs, about how Andrew refused to look at him. but deep down he knew he couldn't really hate Andrew. if he truly hated him he wouldn't have stuck around him this long to try and form a relationship with him. he wouldn't have bothered renewing their deal after graduating high school. he may have been stubborn and confusing and made aaron want to pull his hair out in frustration, but I don't think hatred for Andrew truly existed in him. For certain actions maybe, but him overall? definitely not.

Aaron Minyard may have been complicated, cranky, and annoyed for the majority of the times we see him, but he never truly hated anyone. not in the way people seem to think at least. and certainly, never the three people hes accused of hating the most.

[yanderes-galore]

Yandere platonic rivalry hcs between Naruto and Sasuke for their female team mate ^_^ please love to hear your thoughts 

Ah... So you're technically in Sakura's role for this. Sure!

Yandere! Platonic! Naruto vs Yandere! Platonic! Sasuke

Pairing: Platonic - Rivalry -> Sharing (In Ending 3)

Possible Trigger Warnings: Female Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Overprotective behavior, Jealousy, Blood, Violence, Kidnapping, Isolation, Stalking, Murder, Forced companionship(s).

These two have always been rather similar to each other.

Unfortunately they can never seem to agree on something.

They've been rivals since they were put on Team 7.

When it comes to how you fit in the story... I can think of two ideas.

You're either in Team 7 alongside Sakura...

Or you take her role in this concept.

Either way... Their rivalry would start childish.

You knew the two when you were all young and on Team 7.

Naruto has always been loud and a lot to handle... while Sasuke has been quieter yet more brooding.

The two both have had lonely childhoods and do need companionship.

Naruto admits he wants people to like him.

Sasuke doesn't, more focused on being an avenger than anything...

Yet he finds himself enjoying your companionship.

Naruto has always been competitive.

He acts in such a way to try and impress you, to show you how capable he is.

Sasuke isn't interested in these challenges at first.

Sasuke just cares about getting stronger, not fighting Naruto to impress some girl.

That is until after a training session you complimented him... while he tried to ignore how it made him feel...

He found it pleasing to hear from you... and hated it when you gave that same praise to Naruto.

Their rivalry is originally based on power.

They both want to get stronger to achieve their goals.

Yet it progresses into getting the attention of their dear friend and teammate.

They aren't romantically interested... Sakura ends up dealing with more of that.

It's more like they both like impressing you and want you to pick a favorite.

It's petty and childish before the second half of the show.

Just two kids trying to impress a friend they've both grown fond of.

Naruto is the one who's more obvious with it.

He pushes himself to show you techniques he learned and practically goes feral if you're injured in a mission.

Sasuke is more laid back.

He likes your attention and hates Naruto trying to take it, but he doesn't go out of his way to impress you.

He has other things to worry about than impressing girls.

Despite that he still keeps an eye on you and protects you, often scolding Naruto if he didn't protect you.

Again, all childish competition between two rivals who happen to enjoy the same person.

It's when Sasuke leaves Konoha and becomes pretty much a threat to everyone that the rivalry shifts.

It's no longer about impressing you.

The two are much older now with very different ideals.

Naruto is still mostly the same as he was... but Sasuke is a threat.

You rarely see Sasuke, mostly being around Naruto to help him with his own goals.

Naruto is obsessed with getting Sasuke back... yet at the same time feels a bit proud that you stayed with him as his friend.

However... Sasuke never gave up on you.

Sasuke is indeed obsessed with power and gave up camaraderie for it.

Yet there's times Sasuke manages to find you during his missions, looking all happy that you stayed with Naruto...

That you stayed with Konoha...

Sasuke feels envious and part of him doesn't like the idea of Naruto winning.

There's many times you and Sasuke meet.

It's not that surprising to assume he's following you.

Even in his search for power and vengeance... Sasuke only cares for a select few people.

You're on the top of his list.

Whenever he corners you on missions, it's never just to check in.

Sasuke keeps testing your strength... but at the same time he just wants to see you.

Naruto eventually breaks up the fighting to try and convince Sasuke to come back home.

Yet Sasuke lashes out, claiming Naruto is a fool to continue that goal...

Sasuke is also pissed he can never convince you to come with him.

Sasuke hates to admit it, but he misses the times he had with you in Team 7.

While he doesn't miss Sakura fawning over him... He misses how you'd help him train and support him without trying to get anything out of it.

Then he's reminded of the fact you did the same thing with Naruto...

He hates that.

It isn't long until this rivalry becomes a game of tug-o-war.

Sasuke eventually realizes to keep you to himself... to get you on his side... he'll need to kidnap you.

Naruto no doubt catches onto this quickly and rarely leaves your side, determined to not lose you too.

This rivalry can be deadly considering how the show goes on.

Both of these characters are powerhouses.

Sasuke is definitely going to aim to kill Naruto, even if he struggles to bring himself to do it.

Sasuke needs you to come with him... He needs you by his side.

You're his friend, aren't you?

Sure, Sasuke's pushed you away...

But he'll show you he's stronger than Naruto.

Naruto, on the other hand, is growing progressively more worried about his friends.

He knows Sasuke is upset that you didn't want to leave Konoha.

Naruto tries to keep you away, knowing Sasuke could easily hurt you if you fight him.

Naruto doesn't want to hurt Sasuke too much...

Yet Naruto also cares about you.

He cares about you more than anything at times.

If it ever comes to it and he can't get Sasuke to join him...

He might have to kill him....

Sasuke comes to try and take you with him, claiming Konoha isn't good enough for you.

Sasuke is willing to pry you from Naruto's arms, even if it means killing him.

Neither party wants to kill the other, but...

A decision needs to be made.

Naruto refuses to have Sasuke kidnap you.

He's tried... multiple times.

Naruto doubts Sasuke cares for your safety.

He just cares for nostalgia... or even just wants to own you.

There was always going to be a final confrontation between the two.

It's just in this case... you're also their goal.

It's very likely one of them will die, leaving the world in its own form of chaos.

If Naruto dies, Sasuke gets to steal you away, probably then demolishing the village or taking over.

If Sasuke dies, you'll be safe but Naruto would have failed his other friend...

The best outcome would be the one similar to canon, where they don't kill one another and probably even learn to share the friend they adore so much.

There aren't many good outcomes in this rivalry.

If one of them wins you'll probably be isolated... even if they shared, would you have freedom?

Naruto already barely leaves your side... and Sasuke has been adamant on bending you to his will to stay by him.

You try to calculate the best outcome...

Yet as their final confrontation goes on... and you witness their fight grow more bloody as time passes...

You can't tell what outcome would be the best for you.

These aren't really your friends anymore, are they?

They're selfish beings now, willing to do anything to get what they want.

You can only hope that by the end of the bloodshed... you'll have both of your friends in the end...

Yet as it goes on it gets harder and hard to tell.

Ending 1 - Naruto

This is one of the outcomes of this rivalry.

You and Naruto have been companions since Sasuke left Konoha.

Naruto didn't want to harm Sasuke too badly.

Let alone kill him.

Yet Sasuke made his choice clear.

He was going to find a way to get rid of Naruto then take you.

Naruto, unable to cope with the thought of you being hurt... snaps.

Naruto, due to the beast inside him, tends to give into his rage.

When he sees Sasuke run over to you and grab you...

He finds himself seeing red.

Suddenly, it doesn't matter what happens...

All that matters is you're safe.

Naruto wakes up with blood covering his clothes and you cradled in his arms.

According to others he defeated Sasuke.

He... killed him, actually.

Naruto is meant to be a hero... Hokage, even.

Yet he can't believe he did that.

His rival, his friend... Gone.

By his hands.

The news disturbs him greatly.

Yet when he sees you in his arms... safe in Konoha and under his protection...

He finds himself slightly soothed.

Sasuke was going to hurt you.

Naruto was just... protecting you.

Since then you're locked to Naruto's side.

He wants you as a companion, an assistant, just near him.

He hates talking about Sasuke, telling you and others not to bring him up at times.

He knows he was doing the right thing to protect you.

Yet now he worries about how easy it is to lose you...

He worries he'll hurt you too.

Despite this, Naruto doesn't allow you to leave Konoha.

He's won the battle... and the war... Now it's his job to keep his dearest friend safe.

He may even ask Sakura to help, the girl already finding issues with Naruto's thinking.

In theory, this should be a happy ending...

Yet it doesn't feel like one... Not with Naruto filled with grief...

Not with you still without freedom.

Ending 2 - Sasuke

Another outcome is Sasuke winning the battle and rivalry.

Sasuke originally didn't want to kill Naruto.

He tried to play nice, to bargain with his old friend.

If he just handed you over... Sasuke could limit the damage done.

Yet Naruto is stubborn as ever... protecting you like you're some weak girl.

Sasuke knows you're strong.

That's why he's been hunting you.

If Naruto won't give you over... Sasuke accepts that...

Then gets to work.

It takes time due to the beast that resides in Naruto.

Yet eventually Sasuke emerges victorious, not reacting to the blood on his clothes.

It... was going to happen eventually, wasn't it?

The two were going to fight and kill one another....

After the battle Sasuke snatches you, taking note of your struggling.

You try to fight him, to take advantage of Sasuke's weakened state...

Yet Sasuke manages to get you under control, telling you he's doing what's best for you.

Your talent was wasted at Naruto's side... He plans to train you.

Sasuke thinks this is where you belong... beside him.

After this it would not surprise me if you witnessed Sasuke destroy Konoha, telling you this is for the best.

After all, they're all liars.

It's either that or he tries to make himself Hokage, keeping you by his side to see that plan through.

You can fight him... but again, you'll only tire yourself out.

Sasuke won't hurt... yet he'll hurt others around you.

He plans to isolate you, envious others got to have you for so long.

He's much worse than Naruto.

There's times he experiences grief... yet he's quiet about it.

He's done it, he's won, he has you all to himself now.

He's happy about that... He just wishes Naruto would have listened to him.

You're locked away in a room for just Sasuke to see, he's tired of sharing.

This is yet another bad outcome...

One that not only locks you away... but makes you watch the death of those you care for... just so you can 'understand' Sasuke better.

Ending 3 - Sharing

This is the best outcome... yet still bad for you.

In this ending the outcome resembles canon.

Naruto and Sasuke come to a draw and stop fighting.

The two decide to both share you.

There's no point in fighting over their friend... They both want the same thing for you.

They want to protect you, they want your attention, and they want to help make you stronger.

When their injuries are treated and they're cleaned of blood... The two vow to look after you.

Naruto looks after you as Hokage and Sasuke watches over you from the shadows.

This is a more tame ending, one that's overall happier.

The two both care for you as they're best friends.

Naruto even gives you a job in Konoha, preferably one where he and Sasuke can watch you.

Sasuke often checks in, apologizing and telling you he's maturing.

Naruto likes to hang out with both of you along with Sakura.

Yet there's always that subtle sense of... isolation....

The two still control who you talk to and want your attention exclusively on them.

Konoha is your home... You belong to them.

If you ever want to leave, one of them will stop you.

Ninjas are known to be stealthy.

You're always being watched by someone.

Now that the rivalry has ended... The two are on the same page.

Neither of them die...

Yet your freedom is still restricted like the previous outcomes... and now you just have two problems...

Was this really an improvement?