#him. it's the first 'person' that's ever truly cared for him. And even if it has flaws and his life was ruined by things beyond his

[boobav]

!season 1

Viktor is, you've clearly observed, insecure of himself.

Quite valiantly, due to some looming social norm or personal feeling, he tries to hide it. But in moments like these, such an act becomes impossible. Try as he might, desperately at times, when he's pressed against you in the warm water, your fingers over his skin, your fingers in his hair, his failure is palpable.

"Are you okay?" You murmur into the nape of his neck, his back against your chest. The water threatens with gentle churns to spill over the bathtub.

He turns his head to press a kiss against your wrist.

"More than," he says, voice quiet but firm, "I just feel, sometimes," and he hums, as though forming an adequate description of his emotions were the hardest task on the planet. Viktor, your genius scientist, hesitant not to innovate, to change the world with his research, no. He's hesitant only to make sure he says the right thing to you.

"Like I'm too good for you?" You ask, catching his eye. By the gentle look you know that's what he means. He faces away again, nods in a vaguely ashamed way.

How, you've always wondered, can you truly change someone's perspective? When words don't seem to persuade, when actions bring only fleeting relief, what can you do?

"It's irrational, I know, some... flaw of the mind. You don't need to keep reassuring my senselessness." He leans into your touch, takes your free hand into his, soap suds bubbling between your fingers.

"Sometimes you talk about yourself like you're a machine, you know." You muse. He gives a half-hearted laugh.

"Not a well functioning one."

Are words or actions worth more in this game of convincing? Does he feel it deeper when you press your lips into his hair, or when you mumble compliments and honeysuckle words into his ear? He shivers either way.

It's a long game, you know. It's taken months to even reach this stage, where the self-deprication is a rarity, not the norm. Maybe it'll take his whole life before he can accept every part of himself like you can, before he can truly see himself through your eyes, gleaming and gem-speckled as they are.

You free your hand from his, reach up instead to knead shampoo into his thick hair. He responds with a sigh and sinks somehow further against you, the water falling slowly to a more lukewarm temperature. You're not sure how long the two of you have been in here, talking quietly about very little, exchanging words that'll disappear forever with the water. But you really can't find it in you to care.

There's work to be done, errands to run. Errands that should've been run a week ago. This ceremony, this meditation makes all of it null. For where else would you want to be? Where else exists besides here, this room, this moment, static in the cooling water with the embodiment of perfection.

When you tell it to him, as you so often do, when you tell him that he's perfect, he can't believe you. The first time you ever said it, peering into his eyes as if they held some secret treasure within, he thought you were joking. He'd laughed, more out of obligation than actual humour, but your expression remained still. Sincere. To say he was moved would be a wildly inadequate explanation. What he felt in his chest that night was something otherworldly, something without a name. He's come now to associate it simply with yours.

You run water through his hair, rinse out the shampoo as he lies pliant in your hands. He insists you use your soaps in his hair, some floral-scented collection you've used for who knows how long, because the smell reminds him of you.

There's no point in overthinking it, you suppose. No point in trying to map out and organise moods, emotions. No point in trying to turn a gentle human experience into something clinical, something without humanity.

That swirling, omnipresent yet transient concept of humanity. You simply must cradle it within your own. You press your lips into his wet hair, whisper words made of ginger and lavender into his ear. Because at the end of the day, you're human. You're in love. And sometimes, that's all that matters.

[beloveds-embrace]

rugby player Simon and his pretty little balerina partner. Thats it. Thats whats currently plaquing my mind

Now that you’ve said it I’m thinking about them too because YES 😩 i tried a more headcanony style for this, really had no idea what to write as a drabble

• You first met Simon “Ghost” Riley during an injury rehab session. He’s there nursing a rough tackle, while you’re recovering from an overworked ankle. Despite his intimidating size and silence, he notices how gracefully you move even while stretching, and you can’t help but admire his sheer size even if he’s making the nurses nervous.

• Ghost is, honest to god, shy about approaching you at first; why would delicate, lovely you want someone of his type and build to approach you? But he still gets roped into conversation when you tease him for struggling with a basic stretching exercise. “I’m built for smashing into blokes, not folding like you do.” he grumbles, but he doesn’t sound truly bothered. You are sure you can even hear the amusement. And this is how you end up exchanging number and texting, until he finally asky you out on a proper date.

• He’s genuinely amazed at your discipline and talent, often catching himself zoning out while watching you rehearse. You tease him for staring, but he’s truky awestruck by how effortlessly you glide across the floor, almost looking weightless.

• You love watching him play rugby. Seeing him control the field with raw strength and precision is hot. You start attending his matches, cheering louder than anyone else when he tackles an opponent or scores. His favorite cheerleader- his best girl <3

• Ghost introduces you to his gym routines, and you try (unsuccessfully) to keep up with his weightlifting. You love the view of his muscles flexing, though, and you don’t try to hide it. You also love sitting on his back while he does pushups, giving him a kiss ever so often in encouragement.

• In return, you teach him some basic ballet moves to improve his agility to help him. The image of this massive, intimidating man attempting pliés is hilarious, but he’s surprisingly nimble. “Don’t tell the lads, yeah, doll?” he huffs, though his amusement is clear and it has you giggling.

• Simon loves how tiny you feel when he wraps his arms around you. After games, he picks you up effortlessly, spinning you around as you laugh and lean down to kiss him much to the whistles and hoots of his teammates. Neither of you care anyways.

• After a game, he’s all adrenaline and intensity, body taut. You tease him by saying, “Don’t you dare bring that sweaty self near me, Simon Riley.” but he pulls you into a heated kiss anyway, pinning you gently against a wall in the hallways of the stadium.

• He loves when you practice in front of him wearing your ballet leotard. The combination of your grace and your form-fitting outfit gets his heart and more racing, though he keeps his composure… mostly.

• Simon is also your biggest cheerleader during your performances, sitting in the front row with a bouquet of flowers that looks comically small in his massive hands. He always looks proud, even if he doesn’t say much. And he absolutely glares or shushes anyone who is causing a ruckus and taking the spotlight off you.

• He joins you most of the time in the backstages, and when you’re feeling nervous before a performance, he cups your face in his big, warm hands and whispers, “You’re the most talented person in the room. Show ‘em who you are.”

• You return the favor by helping him relax before games. You massage his shoulders and give him little pep talks, which he pretends not to need but secretly loves. Sometimes of them are even recorded on his phone for the very rare occasions you can’t make it to his games.

• Said it before but I’ll say it again: you love how his body feels next to yours- rugby has made him all broad shoulders and powerful muscles, and he loves how delicate your hands feel running over his skin. Likewise, he loves caressing your skin and rubbing creams and ointments to your aching feet muscles.

• He calls you “Twinkle Toes” which sounds sarcastic at first but is said with so much affection that it melts your heart.

• You call him “Big Softie” because, despite his tough exterior, he’s the sweetest with you. He pretends to hate it, but he secretly loves when you use it in private. Had a stupid smile on his face when saw it was how you had your contact for him saved.

[devotedlyandrogynousyouth]

AkrhamKnight! Jason Todd

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

Sensitive Topics: descriptions of a toxic relationship and mentions of physical abuse (none actually written)

AK! Jason Todd who you're not even sure what you have with. Every time you try to refer to him as your boyfriend or yourselves as together like you did before his death, he pulls away and gets defensive.

"There isn't an 'us,' sweetheart. I ain't letting shit from before that fucking clown got to me matter now."

But if you try to walk away from the situation or start talking to somebody else, he gets so incredibly jealous.

"Oh so you really need two guys' attention now? What a fucking whore..."

AK! Jason Todd who, if you couldn't tell by now, is so incredibly toxic in whatever situation you have. He cant stand to see you walk away but it kills you inside every time you come back to him and his baggage.

"Come one, sweetheart... It was just a mistake. We all make 'em, right? Don't you go leaving me over some petty shit like that."

AK! Jason Todd who absolutely loathes you going out at night. Even when he's there with you, it still puts him on edge to see you walking the cold, dark Gotham sidewalks when you could be safe in his apartment or the base instead.

AK! Jason Todd who just gets so mean with you for no reason. Well, not for little things like forgetting to pick up plastic wrap at the store or something. More like walking alone in Gotham without him knowing you were even gone. He hates the thought of something happening to his precious little thing.

AK! Jason Todd who would never physically harm you. Are insults thrown around like confetti? Absolutely! Is there a scream fight almost every week? You bet! But has he ever raised a finger against you? No. And he would never even think of it.

AK! Jason Todd who's absolutely pissed whenever somebody even looks at you for too long, nevermind making comments. You'd be surprised just how many of his soldiers he's gotten rid of just for telling him to "put his bitch in her place," or for telling you to "cover up, slut."

AK! Jason Todd who can't open up. He knows what he's doing is horrible. He knows that everything he does affects you in one way or another. But what about the horrible things other people have done? What about what the Joker did to him? What about Bruce letting the Joker roam free afterwards and replacing him with another goody two shoes? Jason wants to talk to you, he really does. But he just doesn't see how you or anybody, for that matter, coyld ever understand him or what he's been through.

AK! Jason Todd who found himself crying in the dark shadows of your shared apartment when Bruce first came along to stop his ridiculous plan to take over Gotham with Scarecrow's fear toxin. Jason loved Bruce. Bruce was his only family. But family means that nobody gets left behind and Bruce sure as hell broke that rule.

(This is actually kinda cannon: in Akrham Knight, one of the conversations you can overhear between a few of the gaurds mentions Jason crying after encountering Bruce for one of the first times)

AK! Jason Todd who truly does love you, in some way. He doesn't think he can be in love with you, but that doesnt makw him care about you any less. You're his person, and you've been there for him whether he likes it or not.

AK! Jason Todd who would absolutely lose it if anything were to ever happen to you. He never wants to see even a hair on your damn head hurt if he can help it. If one of his guards were to be responsible for an injury you sustained, they'd be out the door and probably six feet under in a heartbeat.

AK! Jason Todd who, no matter what your situation or relationship is like, refuses to let you see his chest. Yeah, his entire body is covered in scars, both from the Joker and other things he's experienced. But the 'Y' shaped scar on his chest is strictly off limits. If you were to ever accidentally brush your hand across it while laying with him or something, he wouldn't lash out, but he'd certainly guide your hand away by gently grasping your wrist.

AK! Jason Todd who never wants to see you involved with anything he does or his plans. He thinks that his activities are far too dangerous for you, even if you do happen to be somebody who's capeable of holding your own in combat or other high-stress situations.

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

Masterlist

[johnbrand]

Joining the Flock

Trying something different, please enjoy

With @henrypreppy

JD flipped the meeting invitation back and forth between his hands, the thin paper material an illusion to the actual weight its writing held. He could not believe he had actually agreed to this, let alone thinking about following through with it. It was not like his parents would have ever known. JD could lie about the entire ordeal and get away with it. But now he was officially registered for the first meeting of the year, his name practically carved into stone.

“Hey there, sorry I don’t mean to interrupt.”

JD rotated his head to the door, eyeing down the black-haired freshman standing patiently at the door. Slim, lanky, and could use tweezers, but by his posture JD could already discern that he was a casual fellow.

“I’m assuming you're Michael Freedman?”

“Mike will do,” Mike grinned. “It’s nice to finally meet you, I’m assuming you’re my roommate?”

JD stood up and extended his hand. “You got it, I'm JD.”

The physical exchange allowed for their first day jitters to transmit like a frequency between them.

“JD huh, is that a nickname?”

JD did his best to hold back his embarrassment. “It’s short for Jeremiah Delgado.”

Mike’s eyebrows rose, “A little bit of a mouthful.”

“You should hear it with the middle names,” JD quipped. “It’s what you get when you combine a Hispanic father and Biblically-obsessed mother.”

“Then no wonder you stick to JD,” Mike replied.

Taking a seat back on his bed, JD decided to steer the conversation elsewhere. “When did you move in? I didn’t see you this morning when I’d hauled everything up those four flights of stairs.”

Mike chuckled, “Perks of the top floor right? I assume I moved in right after you left. You’re not a clean freak or anything, are you?”

“God no,” JD answered, the tone shift catching him off guard. “I don’t have time to care about stuff like that.” JD had already picked up on Mike’s disorganization when he had arrived back at the dorm. It was a bit of a shock to see the place had already become a lived-in pigsty, even though they had just moved in. But JD truly did not mind the clutter, he was a bit on the uncleanly side too. Speaking of which, he realized he had forgotten to get a haircut before he left. The dullish chestnut mop was reaching shoulder-length now; JD was a bit curious to see what would happen if he let it grow even longer.

“Sorry if that was a bit blunt,” Mike plopped onto his own bed. “I just saw the invitation and I was curious.”

“The…?” JD paused, before picking up on what Mike was referring to. “Oh this? No sorry, it was pushed onto me at the club fair.”

The event had been just short of organized chaos. Practically a hundred booths had filled the auditorium, each of them advertising different clubs that the freshman could get involved with. Student Council, the Events Commission, even the CIA (which JD learned stood for “Chemists In Action”). He had been casually browsing, the only thing minorly interesting to him being the Pride organization, but somehow had accidentally strolled in front of the wrong stall.

“Looking to join the Campus Ministry?”

The man calling out to JD was rather put-together, probably the only person in the entire event showcasing a three-piece suit. As JD approached cautiously–hoping the man would not grab any more attention then he already had–he was able to inspect the stranger a little further. Late thirties, athletic, a ring on his finger and of average flair. He was not JD’s type, but he could still appreciate that the man held some appealing characteristics.

The man introduced himself as soon as JD drew close enough. “My name’s Peter, I’m the Campus Minister.”

JD replied accordingly, loathing his luck. He had chosen a college as far away from his parents and their strict lifestyle as possible, and yet now here he was, conversing with the very people who abided by their same morals and guidelines.

“Well Jeremiah, are you inclined to learn more about the mission of the Baptist Church?”

Wincing at the use of his full name, JD replied, “I actually grew up Baptist, but I’ve grown away from the faith since.” As soon as the words left his mouth, JD realized his mistake.

“Well you have come to the right place!” Peter exclaimed, a bit too over joyous. “The Campus Ministry is welcome to all, especially those returning to God’s graces.”

Before JD could protest, Peter had already handed him the formal invitation and written his name on the sign-up form. “The meeting is tonight, you won’t miss it!”

“I can’t believe you got sucked into that crap!” Mike was laughing after JD had finished replaying the scene for him. “Are you really planning on going?”

“I mean I have to, right? They’ve got me signed up.”

Mike shrugged, “It’s up to you man, but you don’t have a lot of time to decide.”

JD quickly eyed the invitation and then his phone and realized Mike was right. If he was going to make this meeting, he would have to leave now.

“Crap!”

———

By the time he got to the chapel, he had worked up quite the sweat. JD was not an active person, and as he entered the building, he realized he was also not properly dressed. Everyone else adorned their Sunday bests, some even more formal. The button-ups and slacks were a complete contrast to his own indie band tee and distressed jeans. JD shamefully placed himself in the back pew, hoping no one would notice the black sheep.

“Mind if I sit here, brother?”

JD obliged without acknowledging the stranger, cursing to himself as Peter ascended to the podium at the front of the chapel.

“Brothers and Sisters, I want to welcome you all to our first meeting of the year. As the Campus Minister, it is an honor to be able to guide you in our journey together, and with your trust lead you on the path towards God.”

All the members of the group came together to a round of applause. 

“Let me make one thing clear right away, brothers and sisters,” Peter began assuredly. “At the heart of the Campus Ministry is community. God did not create us to live alone in isolation. He specifically designed us to live together as like-minded beings. To thrive in Biblical communities where people who love Jesus Christ can enjoy fellowship with one another. To help each other grow in the faith, to become more alike. To learn from each other, incorporate a need for each other. God uses others to help us grow individually, and God uses us to grow other people.”

“I am reminded of a verse from Matthew 18:20: ‘For where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them.’ It is here that Jesus calls us to be sheep, His sheep, flocking under His name in likeness and in aspiration to fulfill His teachings. As a Biblical community, we find ourselves in Jesus. He is our center point, what draws us together, the common bond that we share. And as Baptists, we find ourselves following our shepherd, assimilating as one when we name ourselves a member of His church.”

“So why is community at the heart of the Campus Ministry? Whether you are eighteen-, nineteen-, twenty- or more-years-old, you came here searching for guidance. Guidance to tell you where to go, what to do, who to follow. Guidance found through relationships, through our collective relationship with God and His church. The Campus Ministry offers that guidance and more. Our community of brothers and sisters will help you navigate classes, properly study, and make wise decisions. They will eat with you, spend time with you, bring you into the fold, our flock, no matter what former walk of life. They will help you embody the classic look of a Christian.”

“Now, I would like to invite you to embrace that first step towards community. Take a moment and turn to your neighbor, introduce yourself to your new brother or sister.”

Finding himself slightly absorbed by Peter’s sermon, JD broke out of his haze to finally acknowledge the stranger he had allowed to sit beside him. However, JD found himself rendered speechless by the beautiful man before him. With coppery hair, a diamond-cut jaw, and inviting green eyes, JD gawked a second too long at his traditional counterpart. Pairing pleated trousers with a crimson sweater vest over a simple white button-up, the stranger exuded refinement. From his Ivy League haircut to his natural woodsy smell and even by the way the stranger sat, JD could feel heat rising from his own cheeks.

“Jackson Sanderson,” the stranger offered, and after a uncharacteristic stutter JD replied with his own.

JD was then introduced to other members of the club as they came around to introduce themselves. There was a Colton, a Bryce, a Jared, a Stanley. Eventually the names and faces began to blur together, each of them almost identical to each other. Attractive by traditional standards, reeking of arrogance and privilege. JD found himself almost unable to hide his large erection, loathing his existence. It was times like these he wished not to be “blessed” as his father had once grotesquely put it.

After everyone had returned to their seats, Peter finished his monologue. “Before you realize it, each and every one of you will become bonded through our Campus Ministry. It may not happen right away, but once you begin to know each other, you will begin to shape each other too. Now, let us end in prayer.”

———

JD’s first day of classes flashed by in an instant. Undecided, his schedule was mostly filled with the required objectives. A standard biology course, base level statistics, even a communications class–all of which had no actual assignments for the day besides reading the syllabus. But by the late afternoon after his final seminar, JD found himself ready for a lazy evening. He drafted plans involving picking up fast food, watching an episode or ten of some raunchy sitcom, and then drifting off to bed.

“Jeremiah!” 

The minister’s assertive baritone cut through JD’s headphones, which were slowly lowered to passive-aggressively demonstrate his annoyance.

“I wanted to thank you for coming to the first Campus Ministry meeting last night,” Peter explained as he approached. Today, he was dressed in a brown suit with a pattern meant for a man twice his age. “I was hoping to discuss some other things as well. Have a moment?”

Reluctantly, JD obliged, and soon he was following Peter to his office. Once inside, JD was able to discern a bit more about this man who had strangely taken an interest in him. Basic wooden cross on the wall, pile of materials on theology beside the desk, a picture of a woman around the minister’s age holding three children. JD accepted the seat in front of the desk, hoping this would not take long.

“Seeing the instantaneous bond that we have created over the past 24 hours,” JD restrained his eyebrow from visually questioning this statement. “I took it upon myself to become your academic counselor. As your minister, it’s my role to offer you structure and guidance during these impressionable years.”

JD was a bit startled by this statement, but said nothing.

Peter continued, “I’ve already taken a gander at your schedule and noticed all gen-eds. As you are undecided, I was curious if you had any majors you had in mind.”

“Not particularly,” JD answered, finding himself a little more relaxed. “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to think about it until a bit later, honestly.”

Peter’s direct eye contact intensified slightly. “Maybe it would be best to spread out your electives and place you in some courses designed to determine a major. Considering your passion for the faith, you could look into some classes in the Religion Department.”

JD found the minister’s wording a bit odd, almost belittling in a way. His response came out a bit muddled, “I never said that I had a passion for the faith?”

“Well, Jeremiah, I think it could do you a lot of good. As the Campus Minister, I’d be happy to offer you some additional resources as well.”

“‘Resources’?”

“Of course,” Peter’s face broke out into a big grin. “I’ll connect you with one of our students in the department. I have one in mind already, a sophomore: Jackson Sanderson.”

A blush broke out onto JD’s face. He could not perceive if the minister had noticed it or not.

“Jackson is one of our finest men,” Peter resumed. “You will immediately find him as a brother, perhaps one of your closest. After a while, you will feel the desire to emulate him, as he has the classic look of a Christian.”

Again, JD noted the strange diction, and a repeat of a phrase he had heard last night. But JD also noticed that he felt a certain calm when he listened to Peter. His voice just had a quality that kept one at ease. That was probably why he had become a minister.

“I’ll notify Jackson to get in contact with you shortly.” Peter then took a stand, prompting JD to do the same. “Until then, let’s begin thinking about your major and where we’d like to see you next semester. And further along, when you graduate.”

———

Jackson reached out to JD hours later, and after a bit of texting JD found himself roped into a study session the following day. He did not know what to expect, but he decided to put his best foot forward. Sure, he had no desire to engage with the church after his high school graduation, but JD rationalized that he could still be there to make friends.

“Jeremiah!” Jackson called out from one of the pews. He was surrounded by a swarm of men, all wearing outfits appropriate for more conservative times. JD had prepared for this, although his khakis and short-sleeved button-up still did not fit the bill.

“It’s JD,” JD corrected politely. “Thank you for letting me crash your guys’ study group.”

“Of course!” one of the men replied. JD should have known his name, but the person’s features were almost unrecognizable from the next. “Any brother is welcome to join.”

“Especially once Peter told us you were enrolling in the Religion Department,” Jackson added.

“I’m not enrolling in the Religion Department.”

“We get it, you’re ‘just interested’,” a second man insisted, to which everyone else began to chuckle as if he were referring to some inside joke.

“Anyway, don’t worry about it.” Jackson replied. The smooth quality of Jackson’s tenor settled JD’s nerves. “Let’s get to studying, shall we?”

The group agreed and promptly found themselves absorbed in their literature. While JD stuck to his reading and recording notes, the other men held a shallow conversation: one that any person could easily flow in and out of without paying too much attention. It began with simple topics at first; professors, extracurriculars, sports. None of these would typically entice JD, but he found himself occasionally tuning into the group’s monotonous channel. Eventually however, the topics converged into a singular subject: the Bible.

“I just think John’s interpretation is by far superior to the synoptic gospels,” Colton countered. JD could not believe he had remembered his name. “His use of monological writing is what makes Jesus more engaging to the interpreter.”

Jackson shook his head, “That may be true, but the synoptic gospels offer parables, short stories that people can relate too.” Jackson’s presence was different now then when they had first met. Before, frankly, JD had taken eroticism from Jackson’s standardized beauty. But now, he sensed something else. Rather than affection, JD recognized admiration.

“Enlighten us, Jackson, what parables can you relate to,” Bryce teased. “If we looked under your bed, would we find oil? As we already know you are a virgin.”

All of the men, including Jackson and JD, took joy in that remark.

“Perhaps you will, perhaps you won’t,” Jackson finally replied. “But take our group for example, are we not fulfilling a parable right now? I would situate ourselves in the story of the Prodigal Son.” Jackson motioned to his peers, “Are we not the father?” And then to just JD, “And is Jeremiah not the Prodigal Son?”

The group pondered this thought, turning expectantly towards JD for an answer.

“Um…” JD stumbled, not expecting to be put on the spot. “I mean, that’s one way to look at it.”

Once again, the group exploded into laughter, their volume ascending to the roof of the chapel. JD chuckled along too, his nervousness fading as he became more comfortable with the group. By the end of the night, he found himself pleasantly surprised as he accepted the invitation to the next study session.

———

“Hey dude, are you interested in going clubbing?” Mike asked, having just exited the shower.

“When are you thinking of going?” JD was reorganizing his desk. For some reason, its cluttered nature had begun to bother him.

“In a few minutes here, hopefully.” Mike dropped the towel on the floor and grabbed some clothes off his bed. He gave a strong sniff to each item inspected, those too dirty were then tossed onto the floor. JD observed this but said nothing.

“Man, sorry but I can’t. I got a study group tonight.”

“On a Friday night?” Mike questioned. “This is like the fourth Friday in a row.”

“I know, but I already said I was going to be there.”

Mike frowned, scratching at his lower regions a bit. JD swiftly averted his eyes. “But don’t you study with these guys three times a week, and have lunch with them everyday too?”

“Yeah, but they purposely choose Friday nights to not be tempted,” JD finally answered.

The partially-answering statement held in the air for an awkward moment. Eventually, Mike responded. “Right…”

JD turned back to his task at hand, throwing out trash that should have been discarded earlier.

“Well,” Mike grabbed a jacket and his keys. “I guess I’ll see you later then.”

“Uh huh,” JD’s response was dull. Once Mike shut the door, he released the long breath that he had subconsciously been holding. He wondered when Mike’s presence had become so taxing. Perhaps he compared his roommate to the study group’s austere quality. JD found those straight-laced men ironically soothing.

This theory was proven once JD arrived into the chapel, the smiling faces of his peers sending a warm tingle across his body. The study session went similar to the rest, beginning with actual work before simply devolving into lighthearted, yet engaging discussions. If these conversations were not surrounding the Bible, then they focused on a topic JD was even less familiar with. 

“I think I’m going to propose to Hannah,” Jared suddenly said, to which everyone in the group audibly gasped.

“Are you ready, brother?” Jackson inquired, to which JD nodded along. 

“He’s already got the ring,” Stanley answered. Weeks ago, this development would have shocked JD. Two twenty-year-olds marrying in this day and age? But now, the thought was not that unfathomable to him. He was becoming more accustomed to the men's ideology.

“I booked reservations for her favorite restaurant,” Jared announced, his typical stale manner of speaking almost giddy. Almost. “I’ll pop the question before dessert of course, it’s all arranged.”

To that, the men applauded Jared, shaking his hand vigorously and giving brotherly pats on the back. JD high-fived him, embracing the honest excitement for Jared. Once they cooled down, Colton continued the conversation.

“Now you’ve got me inspired, thinking I should finally pop the question to Mary.”

“You’ve been thinking about doing that since you first met her in private school,” Bryce retorted.

“And have you not pondered the same with Julia, brother?” Jackson smirked, to which the other men piggy-backed off of. “Speaking of women, have you set your sights on any yet, Jeremiah?”

JD blinked, unbothered by the use of his full name, “Uh…not exactly. I just haven’t  been looking for anyone I guess.” 

JD was telling the truth. Before college, he had planned on finally finding a male partner to love and hold. And to lose his virginity to. But since the first day of classes, JD had not felt a connection to any male in particular on campus–or in general. JD assumed his sex drive had been lowered, that he was just growing out of some awkward teenage phase.

“Perhaps we’ll have to set you up then,” Jared’s grin held an impish edge. “I believe Jessica is still looking for a potential husband.”

Jackson shot Jared a glare, to which all the other men hollered at. “Jessica is only a freshman.”

“And so is Jeremiah,” Stanley pointed out. JD tried his best to stay quiet, although he had to admit that he was having fun too.

“We’ll see if Jeremiah proves to be everything the minister has promised,” Jackson offered. “After all, Jessica will only take a man who has that classic look of a Christian.”

———

“Jeremiah! Thank you for meeting with me again. Please, take a seat.”

JD followed the instruction, placing himself on the other side of the minister’s desk.

“Already halfway through your first semester, isn’t that unbelievable?” Peter started.

“It certainly is,” JD’s response was friendly. “Can’t believe two months have already flown by.”

“I can’t believe it either, but I can see it,” Peter noted. “I’m assuming you’ve been having meals with your other brothers?”

“They’ve got me going to the gym now too,” JD sighed. “An hour every morning before class since last week.” 

JD had been dining regularly with his study group, at lunch and dinner and even the occasional breakfast. And since this habit had begun, JD found himself eating like his peers too. No more ramen and late night fast food deliveries. Fruits, vegetables, and lean proteins were now the major facets of his diet, leading to his cleaner skin and an overall healthier glow. It was strange at first to recognize how much of a difference this better diet–and as of recently the exercise–had improved his body. JD found himself a bit more muscular, a bit more jovial, and overall more energized.

“That’s not surprising, our men do like to stay in proper form, physically and spiritually,” Peter chuckled. “Speaking of which, last we talked, you had discussed that you were contemplating committing to a major in the Religion Department. Have you thought more on that topic?”

JD considered this for a moment, not remembering if that was what he had actually said or not. But something about the minister’s confident tone assured him that Peter was correct. That was why he had come to this college after all, as his parents had approved of the strong Baptist connection. At least, to appease their wishes.

“A little bit I guess,” JD replied, causing Peter to grin. JD at first thought of it as smug, but then corrected the thought to Peter simply being excited for him. “I mean I’ve attended all four of the Campus Ministry events so far, and being around the guys has certainly been an influence.”

“A positive influence,” Peter amended.

“Yeah…a positive influence,” JD slowly repeated back, before coming back to speed. “As of right now though, I’m still undecided on it all.” Peter carefully leaned back in his chair, spreading his legs out a bit to accommodate. It was almost like the minister was trying to size him up, assert a bit more control.

“You are apprehensive because you still identify yourself as an outsider to our community.” Peter’s response was measured, continuous yet firm with every word laid out. “One thing that can be addressed is your attire. At the material level, you will follow the direction of your peers.”

JD tried to process this, although his brain felt a little hazy. “That might help, yeah.”

“That is something that can be addressed too, your intonation.” There was a particular glint in Peter’s eye, but JD found it easier to focus on the minister’s voice. “Just like your brothers, your inflection will remain in control and moderated. Your pitch will remain even and your vocabulary will become more refined.”

“Certainly.” While just one word, each syllable had required additional effort to come forth from JD’s mouth. The colorless articulation however obscured this exertion.

“It’s good that you’re taking my advice, Jeremiah,” Peter affirmed. “You have placed your trust in me to lead you on the path towards God.”

JD did not know if this was true before, but after Peter had said it, it felt as such.

“You will want nothing more than to become a part of our community,” Peter finalized. “I’ll inform Jackson of such, and he’ll help you along.”

———

JD stepped out of the bathroom, steam pouring out from behind him. He had never taken such a long and luxurious shower but it had felt so right. Jackson had recommended it, saying it was the best way to get rid of any excess hair that may have stuck to his skin after visiting the barber. He could not see it now, but JD already loved the shortened cut on his head. Once it was dried, the sides would naturally fall into a tight bowl-like shape. Then, JD would have the pleasure of applying the product–prescribed by Jackson–to fluff his bangs up into a traditional, conservative quiff. A proper style for a gentleman like himself.

In nothing but a towel, JD peered cautiously around the room. All alone, he allowed himself to freely disdain his roommate’s messy style. He had remained civil around the topic with Mike, but had secretly grown to loathe it. JD knew better than to say anything however, as that would have been pompous. Carefully placing his feet into open spots on the floor, JD tip-toed his way to his dresser, surprised to find a small note taped to the drawer.

A final gift, the classic look of a Christian -JS

Not thinking twice about the phrase, JD was surprised to find his boxers had been replaced with starchy, high-waisted white briefs. But his confusion quickly dissolved into recognition before fading into a simple, charming smile. The cotton fabric went up and over each of his legs in a matter of moments, the traditional cut making JD feel grounded somehow. Controlled.

Turning to face the mirror, it was almost shocking for JD to see the new reflection of himself. Only weeks away from the end of his first semester and the man before him was much different than the boy who had come to campus. Tanner, more muscular, an image of young masculinity. But those were explainable thanks to his improved diet and exercise. Other factors, like his wider jaw, broader shoulders, and inched-back hairline, were not as identifiable. JD questioned if it was incoming maturity, or perhaps something else.

Before he could reflect on the thought further, his body mechanically moved along to his wardrobe. A rack once filled with tees and crewnecks was now stuffed by dress shirts, vests, and blazers of assorted varieties. Tamer colors and patterns, only distinguishable to the distinguished eye. The rest of JD’s dresser now contained a variety of slacks, along with many different types of dress socks and ties. Loafers, oxfords, brogues among others sat in alphabetical order at the bottom. It was practical, and practically perfect.

When his peers had first offered to makeover his closet, JD had been apprehensive. Something in the back of his mind rang an alarm, whispering that he would also be sacrificing a part of his individuality. But JD’s body had decided for him in that moment, his head nodding in approval and with an amiable grin. And now after the swap, which JD later learned was in part financed by the Campus Ministry, he realized there was nothing he should have been afraid of.

After all, all of the brothers were remarkably different. Colton rocked a business cut with his blond hair, a style no one else had. Bryce had the most suits of the five, almost as many as their minister. Jared was the only one officially engaged (although JD predicted that fact would not last much longer. Stanley had his thick, time-honored black horned rims. And Jackson held his affinity for sweater vests, a Bonafede professional at styling them. They were truly all unique.

Quickly assembling his hair and a tasteful outfit–a white button-up, French navy-hued trousers, a currant colored tie and chocolatey derbies for his feet–JD assembled his school bag and made haste for the chapel. When he arrived, it was only Jackson awaiting him in the pews. The others had gone out to grab a quick meal.

“Jeremiah! I was beginning to think you wouldn’t make it,” Jackson nudged as JD took a seat beside him in the pew.

“You know I would not miss our study sessions for the world, brother!” JD’s rebuttal was chipper and authentic. Since Mike’s first proposal of clubbing, the offer has never been made again. But JD had received other invitations for outings with his fellow peers. However, none of them were ever accepted. To JD, it always felt more appropriate to stick to his group. Their presence felt familiar, grounded. Right.

“‘They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and to fellowship’,” Jackson started. “‘to the breaking of bread and to prayer.’” 

“‘And all the believers were together and had everything in common.’” JD finished.

“The Book of Acts, I’m impressed,” Jackson smirked. “I now understand why Peter was so serious about you.”

JD should have questioned what Jackson was referring to, but instead sunk into the warm glow of his brother’s approval.

“But there’s still one thing you have to do,” Jackson noted.

JD’s heartbeat hastened rapidly, something he had not expected.

“You have got to come to church with us!”

JD felt a glimmer of hesitancy. He had not gone to church since he had come to college. He tried to remember why, but a subtle pain clouded his thoughts. Was it because of his parents? No, they just wanted what was best for him. Then was it because JD did not feel accepted by the church? JD tried to follow that thread, but the deeper he ventured, the stronger the ache in his head became.

“Come on, what have you got to lose?” Jackson gave JD a playful shove. “Plus, the minister will be giving a blessing to all students before finals.”

Something was telling JD to reconsider. Something urged him to do otherwise. But JD could not figure out what was so wrong about attending a simple service.

“Alright, I’ll go.”

Jackson’s perfect smile was wider than JD had ever seen it. “That’s it, brother! Then you’ll be just like us.”

That statement triggered something in JD. As if following out a code downloaded into his vital operating systems, he made a note to schedule an appointment with his academic counselor.

———

“What can I help you with today, Jeremiah?” 

Unlike the composed minister sitting before him, JD was irritable, prickly. Words were begging to escape his mouth, although he could not figure out what they were. He tried to express them as best he could.

“I want to become a part of the Campus Ministry, a part of your Biblical community.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because I want to be another sheep in the flock.”

A small smile tugged at one corner of Peter’s lip. “In other words, you are saying…”

The words flew out JD’s mouth: “I want to embody the classic look of a Christian. I want to fit in.”

That heavy, revealing truth tumbled before the two men, its release absolving JD of a burden unaware to him had been accumulating for months. Ever since his first meeting with the minister.

“It’s much easier to be just another piece of the puzzle, Jeremiah,” Peter began. “Never having to worry about anything else when you have a place to belong.”

The minister reached into his desk and pulled open a drawer, removing a small folder with JD’s name on it. Opening it, Peter pulled out a single sheet of paper and placed it in front of him. JD’s eyes scanned the page before focusing back on Peter’s own.

“Your schedule that I have already drafted up for the next semester,” Peter replied, grabbing a pen. “You will join the Religion Department as a Theology major with a minor in Baptist Ministries. After graduation, you will continue your studies to receive a Masters of Divinity. By then, my proselytization will no longer be necessary as you will have become a permanent traditionalist.”

JD knew better than to say anything. Instead, he let his actions speak for him, his hand accepting the pen from Peter and with a delicate cursive, signing his name.

“Welcome to the flock, Jeremiah.”

———

“A healthy Christian learns and grows through community. A healthy Christian experiences spiritual and relational growth when surrounded by an affirming group of like-minded believers. Jesus spent a significant amount of time with his small group, the apostles, molding them and teaching them how to love and support one another and how to function as a healthy small group. Today, we do the same for our brothers and our sisters.”

Jeremiah sat in the front row next to Jackson, Colton, Bryce, Jared, and Stanley. The group was expertly dressed. Jeremiah’s baby blue button-up was paired with a matching tie underneath his charcoal suit. The tie, with cornflower polka dots on top of a banana cream yellow, was particularly chosen for its “vibrant and exciting pattern,” as Jeremiah had thought of it. Along with caramel wing tips that coupled nicely with his soft yet stiff quiff, Jeremiah felt dignified by his outfit. 

“It’s great to be part of a healthy, well-functioning group,” the preacher, an older, handsomely well-off man by the name of Dr. Ernest Holloway, continued. “However, our individual wishes can sometimes interfere with the overarching needs of the congregation. For our Christian community to remain intact, we need to come before God with an earnest desire to help others, and therefore maintain the needs of the group to truly experience the richness and glory of His intentions.”

“Being in a group is committing to one another by saying, ‘I want to laugh with you, share with you, study with you, and pray with you’.” Taking a deep breath, the doctor made his closing statement. “Being in a group is saying, 'All I want is to be like you’. Amen.”

“Amen,” Jeremiah and the congregation replied. The rest of the service went by quickly, and before Jeremiah knew it, he had finished singing the final verse of the closing hymn. Soon, the church was bursting with lively energy. Joyful conversations broke out between the Baptist brothers and sisters, nobody in a hurry towards the exit. Jeremiah found himself in a similar manner, following behind his peers as they sauntered their way towards the door.

As Jeremiah followed Jackson outside of the church, a young female voice rang out from behind them. “Well look at these fine, upstanding, proper young men!”

The pair turned around, now outside, to see who had beckoned them. Jeremiah caught the eye of the young lady, her coppery hair and conservative sense of style somehow familiar to him. 

“Both of you are so dandy and traditional,” she remarked. “A classic look for a Christian.”

“Jeremiah,” Jackson sighed. “This is my younger sister, Jessica.”

It took Jeremiah a moment to compose himself, a bit of scarlet peppering his cheeks. His hand nervously shot forward. “J…Jeremiah Joshua Manuel Delgado…nice to make your a...acquaintance.”

Jessica accepted his greeting. “I’ve never had quite this effect on one of your friends before,” she smiled to Jackson. “I think he fancies me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself so, Jessica,” Jackson denied. But all three of them knew Jessica was telling the truth. Jeremiah had gone nonverbal, the blood from his brain redirected to another destination. There was a tingling sensation around Jeremiah's genitals, his member slowly inflating. It was times like these that he was thankful to have “not been blessed” as his father once put it. If his package had been larger, there surely would have been an indecent scene.

Jeremiah knew what he had to do. With all the strength he could muster, he drew the only words he could think of to his mouth. His perfect jaw shifted, heavy brow furrowed, and he forced the sole sentence out of his mouth.

“Jessica Sanderson, will you marry me?”

———

“JD…Jeremiah, is that you?”

Jeremiah had finally grabbed the remainder of his items, the last bags of his belongings ready to go. Mike was standing at the door, blocking his path.

“Where are you going?”

Jeremiah scoffed, disapproving of Mike's irregular radicalism. “Somewhere that is cleaner, fresher, prim and proper. Somewhere where I can remain a dignified man dedicated to preserving tradition and culture in this world. If I am to embody the classic look of a Christian, then I ought to do so with like-minded brothers.”

Confused, not only by the fancified words but by his roommate’s overall preppification during their first semester, Mike asked a simple question. “Why?”

With a pleasant smile, Jeremiah handed over a small sheet of paper. He then exited the dorm, leaving Mike to flip the Campus Ministry’s invitation back and forth between his own hands and consider the harm of attending just one meeting.

[lanroman]

Taking Care

first (and last) fic- wrote this a while ago, its been sitting in my docs for over a year and a half probably, i came upon it the other day and i figured... why not share?!

a fluffy one shot about reader taking care of lando after a race!

~5k words

WARNINGS: slight suggestive comments, nakedness but not in a sexual way... if that makes sense...

The car ride back to the hotel was quiet, which was slightly out of the ordinary. Race weekends were always exhausting for Lando, but he’d somehow always find the energy to talk and laugh with you up until the very moment he drifted off to sleep. And when you couldn’t be with him in person, he’d Facetime you and give you a rundown on the race for hours. But this time, he was silent. Today the whirlwind couple of weekends seemed to finally catch up to him, as the high hopes and adrenaline started to fade; he looked exhausted. Even with the exhaustion setting in, he was still sporting the same sweet smile he always did, leaning against your chest in the car's back seat. You’ve been together for about two years, but you still feel those butterflies in your stomach you got at the beginning of your relationship when looking at him even now.

You were the first one to speak up after a few minutes as you were almost to the hotel. “Who’s showering first?” You looked down at him and spoke softly. 

He perked up a bit, sitting upright, saying, “When have we ever taken turns?” He jokes as you shoot him a look and nudged his chest. He laughs and then speaks again, but his voice is low this time. “You. I’m about to crash. I’ll take one tomorrow.” He sighs rubbing his eyes, his head now leaning against the headrest.

“Baby, you have to take one tonight,” You say, running your fingers through his hair that was slightly tangled at the ends. “you’ll sleep better all cleaned up.” 

He doesn’t offer a verbal response, just a small nod of his head as he closes his eyes.

“I’m taking that as a ‘me first’.” You whisper to him as the car pulls up to the entrance of the hotel. 

You helped with his bags and was practically carrying him into the hotel and up to the room. 

After opening the door, Lando tries to break free from you and headed straight to the bed, with no luck as you drop your bags and clung to his abdomen.

“Y/N please, I’m too tired. I’ll drown.” He says in between laughs. “Baby come on, I’ll help you. I won’t let that happen.” You say directing him to the bathroom.

He sleepily plops down on top of the toilet seat as you crouch down to untie his shoes, taking them off along with his socks. You set them aside and start the water in the shower.

“Ok, arms up.” You say, grabbing the hem of his papaya shirt. He barely reaches his hands over his head as you pull it off him. He winces slightly, putting his hands down and grabbing one of his shoulders. “Lan,” Your eyebrows knit, watching the pain show and leave his face quickly in an attempt to try to hide it. Your hand goes on top of his.

“Just sore. I’m fine.” He says plainly, rolling his shoulders back. You look up at him, unsure if he was just saying that. 

He smiles and chuckles a little bit. “Really, I’m fine.” He grabs your hand that was still on his shoulder and squeezes it. “Well, tell me if it gets any worse, okay?” You said somewhat confident that we is truly fine. He nodded in response.

“Alright. Stand up.”

“I don’t think my legs will let me.” He wines.

“Your pants Lando. Unless you’d like to keep those on?” You laugh.

“I guess not.” He lets out a big sigh, standing up. You stood up too and was about to help him but he let out a weak laugh. “I think I can manage this part myself, baby.” 

“First time for everything.” You said cheekily, going to take off your shirt. He hopped in the shower first, and you followed behind him after everything was off. 

He did not get very far into his shower routine before giving up, only had body wash done by the time you were rinsing your hair. 

“I need help.” He said handing you a bottle of shampoo. You take some and gently work the product in till it bubbled, then washed it out. He let out a soft breath as your fingers went through his hair, making sure the conditioner was thoroughly massaged in. Once you finished rinsing his hair again, you grabbed both of your towels and dried yourself off before wrapping him up and walking him to the bed. 

He sat upright until you weren’t holding onto him any more. He laid down with his legs off the bed, the towel wrapped around his waist. 

“Come on, you just have to get dressed.” You say as somewhat of an encouragement, taking the opportunity to dig in your suitcase to at least put on your undergarments before helping him. 

You turn around once you were finished to see Landos eyes glued to your frame with a wide sly smile on his face.

”Please, you are wide awake, get dressed yourself.” You say, blood rushing to your cheeks, throwing some clothes at him from his suitcase. 

He lets out a chuckle and gets up from the bed walking to you. He moved your hair to the side and plants soft kisses on the back of your neck and shoulder.

“Finding some energy now, hm?” You say tilting your head to the side.

”Maybe just a little.” He lets out a big over dramatic yawn. With a shake of your head and a laugh, you continue to get dressed as he gets grabs his clothes and does the same. You pull him into the bathroom one last time to brush his teeth before he was in bed for good. You had a few more steps of your routine before you were ready for bed, so when you were finished, he was practically one breath away from being fully asleep. You crawled into bed beside him. His arms instinctively pulled you in closer and held you in a comfortable sort of hug.

He lets out a hum, “Thank you for taking care of me. And not just today.” He said barely above a whisper. 

“Of course baby. I love you.” You place a small kiss on his cheek. He smiles with his eyes still closed.

”I love you too.” 

“Goodnight sweet boy.” You said as the butterflies in your stomach flapped their wings again, lulling you to sleep.

a/n: i feel embarrassed, but thanks for reading <3 maybe throw it a like so im not so self-conscious :)

[winwintea]

my apology letter

PAIRING ↬ boyfriend!zhong chenle x fem!reader

TAGS ↬ heavy angst. some fluff. no happy ending this is a breakup fic you have been warned

SUMMARY ↬ Chenle always thought that love truly wins all. Your relationship with him was filled with joy and connection. But lately, cracks have begun form. Between small misunderstandings, unspoken frustrations, and the growing sense that he’s not enough for you, Chenle begins to doubt his theory. Is love enough to bridge the gaps between you or is letting go the ultimate act of love?

WORD COUNT ↬ 3.0k+

AUTHOR’S NOTE ↬ i'm sorry in advance !!!! not really. suffer. happy birthday chenle. i hate (love) you so. very. very. much. title and fic based on my apology letter by kim yeon woo!

PLAYLIST ↬ my apology letter - kim yeon woo, who - lauv (feat. bts), lie with you - ten, line without a hook - ricky montgomery, the scientist - coldplay

CHENLE SITS DOWN, AND BEGINS WRITING HIS LETTER.

He’s lost track of how many times he’s sat in this exact seat. It used to be different. So different. At first it was nice. You were beautiful in every way possible. Kind, patient, and thoughtful. You always made him feel like the most important person in the world, even while surrounded by others. This table was a place of warmth, laughter, and love. Now the mood was only as tense as ever. 

He takes a deep breath, letting his thoughts consume him as he begins to write. 

I miss your laugh. I miss making you laugh. I miss that joyous echo of good times I could feel around the apartment, and I swear to god it was my favorite sound ever. I miss that. I miss us. 

He remembers how the mornings would go. You’d both sit at the table, sharing a simple warm breakfast that you or him had prepared. All that really seemed to matter was the two of you in that moment of time.  

He looked at you, the sunlight reflecting off of your face. You were always smiling at your phone, lips quirking as your fingers began typing. You placed your phone against your chest after hitting send, waiting for him to react. 

As Chenle was absentmindedly scrolling through the news, he noticed a notification pop up on his screen.

My Love: “You okay? You’ve been quiet today.”

Quiet, huh? You always enjoyed texting him to get his attention. Thought it was funny. He looked up to see you smiling at him with a concerned expression. Not wanting you to worry too much Chenle smiled and shook his head, but did not say anything else.

The two of you continued eating in silence. 

Chenle sets down the pen, this burden in his chest growing heavier. Where did it all go wrong with you two?

The two of you used to be inseparable. Days consisted of stolen glances, shared jokes, silly photos and videos, small moments that brought this intimacy together. Now, you barely interact with each other, barely talk to each other. His mind drifts to details of last night. 

You sat on the floor, folding the laundry in front of the TV. Your movements were slow and graceful, thoughtfully folding every article of clothing. Chenle sat on the couch behind you, staring mindlessly at the TV, playing some show he couldn’t care less about. He didn’t look at you, you didn’t look at him.

The silence was tense and deafening, yet neither of you made moves to break it.

Chenle picks up the pen again with a stronger grip.

I don’t know how we got here. I don’t know how to fix it. Actually, that’s a lie. I do. But maybe I’m not cut out for that. I know I’m losing you, and it feels like I’m losing myself too.

Chenle’s mind drifts to a day where everything seemed perfect, but always something tugging at the back of his mind.

The amusement park date. Your laughter was vibrant and warm, eyes sparked with determination as you tossed beanbags, threw balls at cans, aimed darts, always determined to best him. The two of you definitely had a competitive streak, but Chenle always made the sacrifice for you. You ended up winning a small stuffed dolphin, holding it high above your head like a trophy.

Chenle mock pouted, and laughed, “Guess I’ll stick to basketball.” He pulled you into his arms, the dolphin nearly squished between you as he pecked your cheek, while the two of you broke out into fits of giggles. 

But even in the moment of happiness and joy, there was still something eating at him from inside. 

Chenle grips his pen tighter as he recalls those fleeting moments of joy, moments that now feel bittersweet. He lets the ink flow on the paper again, writing some more.

I think about how happy we’ve been, and yet there’s always this weight, this worry I can’t stop thinking about. Even in our brightest moments, something felt... off. It’s not because of you, but because of me. It's slowly destroying me.

Later that evening, the two of you had dinner at your favorite restaurant. Chenle thinks about the way your face lit up when the waiter placed your meal in front of you. He could never get over these small things that you did that make his heart feel giddy as well. 

You slipped out your phone and took a photo of the meal, sending it to him with a caption to the photo.

My Love: [Photo Attached]

My Love: "We should make this at home sometime! You’re practically a chef. 😊"

Chenle chuckled, replying out loud, “Only if you clean it up afterwards.”

You smirked and rolled your eyes, ignoring him as you dove into your meal. For a while, everything felt easy, like it used to.

But then you got home.

It started with something small. Just a simple misunderstanding about weekend plans. Chenle couldn’t even remember the exact details now, only how frustrated he felt when his words seemed to fall short. He’d tried to explain, stumbling over his thoughts, but the look on your face never changed. You remained calm, patient, nodding along as if you understood every word.

You always did that—nodded and smiled. But had you really understood him?

Chenle sets the pen down again, and stares at the words he just wrote on the page.

"You always tried to meet me where I was, even when I couldn’t meet you halfway. I see that now. And I hate that I didn’t see it sooner."

He swallows hard, glancing toward the bedroom door. The stuffed dolphin you won that day lay peacefully tucked away in the closet. It reminds you of the time when things were simpler, or maybe just felt that way.

He stares at the words, hoping they’ll somehow fix what’s broken. But words alone aren’t enough.

They never have been.

Chenle’s been so lost in his memories and thoughts that he hasn’t noticed how much time has passed. He lifts his head and sees you standing in the kitchen. You’ve been here the whole time.

Preparing a lunch for the two of you, you move quietly, chopping the vegetables and stirring a pot on the stove. He barely hears your movements, soft and careful. He wonders if you feel the tension between you two as acutely as he does.

And for that moment, he just watches you. Your posture is relaxed, your head tilted slightly as if you’re caught in your own world. You seem so at peace, and it breaks him.

Chenle wants to reach out to you. To stop this moment from becoming what he knows it has to be. He wants to take your hand, to hold on to you just a little longer. But he knows that’s selfish. This cannot wait.

He swallows hard, his throat tightening as he tears his gaze away from you. His hands clenched into fists on the table, fingers trembling slightly. This is it. 

Taking a deep breath, Chenle forces himself to speak. His voice is low, almost breaking, the words that come out of his mouth are barely audible.

“Y/N, let’s break up.”

Chenle had been distant lately, but you didn’t press him. He always had this quiet side to him, and you figured he’d come around when he was ready. You trusted him.

Lunch was extra special today. You were making tteok-bokki—Chenle’s favorite. It wasn’t a particularly hard dish, but he appreciated the effort you put in for it. You focused on the ingredients, the soft sizzle of the stove and the aroma that filled the kitchen. Smells like these made everything feel brighter.

You lost yourself in the rhythm of cooking, chopping vegetables and stirring the sauce until it thickened just right. He had taught you how to make the dish originally, cooking it to perfection until you got it just the way he liked it.

You glanced over your shoulder at him briefly. He was at the dining table, hunched over something. A notebook? His phone? You couldn’t tell. He didn’t look up.

It wasn’t like him to be so withdrawn. He’d always try—he’d send funny memes or silly videos to make you smile. Lately, though, his texts had seemed less and less. You told yourself he was just busy, and would make time as usual to make it up to you.

When the food was nearly ready, you began washing the dishes in the sink, suddenly remembering something you’d been meaning to ask. You turned around, leaning slightly on the counter, and smiled.

“Chenle,” you said, your voice soft but clear. “Take off early for work today and let’s go out to eat dinner together, alright?”

Your hands begin to move, signing something quickly as you mouthed the words out, the gestures being full of emotion to convey your thoughts and feelings. It was your way of making sure he understood. He didn’t know a lot of sign language, but he always made the effort to try and guess.

He initially looked at you with a serious face, his lips in a tight thin line. His eyes were conflicted. Why he looked so pained for some reason, you had no idea. But as soon as you started signing his lips curved into a smile once more, a familiar smile that you loved looking at all day long. 

Eventually after no reaction, Chenle seemed to process your words and nodded his head. He held his hand up in a ‘ok’ position to ensure that he had understood and got the memo. 

Pleased with his response, you turned back around and finished up your task in the kitchen. 

Chenle had asked you to prepare him lunch. You suggested his favorite. He needed this moment to himself, to let the words leave his mouth and test the weight of them in the air.

“Let’s break up,” he had whispered while your back was turned. The words had tasted bitter, like ash on his tongue, their weight heavier than he could have anticipated.

But you hadn’t heard him.

You’d been deaf since the moment he met you. He could still remember your first conversation. It was brief and awkward, with you typing out sentences on your phone and holding the screen in front of him. He’d smiled at how patient you were. A patience you still had today. From that moment, he was hooked.

Yet now, after all this time, he hated himself for how little he’d tried to understand you better.

Chenle leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. The guilt felt like a heavy weight, weighing his shoulders down.

He loved you. God, he loved you so much. But it wasn’t enough. Love alone wasn’t enough to bridge the gap of happiness between the two of you.

He thought about all the times you had signed something to him, your gestures full of emotion, but he could only guess their meaning. You never scolded him for not understanding, never grew angry when he needed you to repeat yourself or resort to texting instead. You were always kind and understanding. Patient and calm. 

But you shouldn’t have to be patient. You shouldn’t have to wait for him to change. You shouldn’t have to wait this long. 

He had taken advantage of your patience, convincing himself that things would work out eventually. He would catch on quickly. Or so he thought. 

He had barely scratched the surface of learning sign language, and didn’t put in as much effort as he should’ve. 

He wasn’t enough for her. His mind flooded with these thoughts and revelations. These words were sharp and seemed to pierce his heart, filling him with immense pain.

The gap between his hearing and your not hearing had grown too large, too large to ignore. At first, he had thought together you could leap over it, that your love would be enough. But he was wrong.

You deserved someone who would dive into that gap and build a bridge, piece by piece, brick by brick. Someone who would work to understand every gesture, every look you made, every unspoken word.

He wasn’t that person. He would never be that person.

Chenle glanced at the letter on the table, the words he had written laid out before his own eyes. He wanted to say goodbye, but he couldn’t find a way to do it face to face. Not properly. Not without him breaking down. 

Maybe he wasn’t strong enough to say the words. Call him a coward. He couldn’t face you. He couldn’t even say he wanted to break up with you outright. Yet he wasn’t brave enough to stay and keep letting you down.

He heard you call his name again, your voice soft and light, the way you always spoke just for him. Your hands moved as you spoke, signing the words with ease, your face glowing after looking at him. 

And in that moment, he realized: no matter who he met in the future, he would never love anyone the way he loved you.

But that love wasn’t enough.

The apartment felt emptier than ever when you walked in one day after work. 

You’d noticed the change the moment you opened the door: the subtle shift in the air, the absence of his shoes by the entrance, the way the quiet seemed louder than usual, some space seemed emptier than you remembered. Your chest tightened as you stepped further inside looking around the living room.

That’s when you saw it.

A neatly folded envelope sat on the table, your name written on it in Chenle’s familiar handwriting. Beside it, the small dolphin you’d won at the amusement park laid out next to the letter on the table, its glossy black eyes staring back up at you.

You took a deep breath and swallowed, your hands trembling as you picked up the envelope. You didn’t open it right away. Instead, you stood there, staring at the letter, trying to steady your breathing for a bit. You knew this was coming. You tried to ignore the signs, but you were correct.

When you finally sat down, it was in the same chair Chenle always used. You never sat in it, since it always seemed like his spot. The cushion still felt warm somehow, as though he had been there just moments ago. You placed the envelope on the table in front of you, staring at it for what felt like an eternity before you finally gathered enough courage to open it.

The letter was written in his careful handwriting, each word deliberate, each line heavy with emotion. As you began to read, tears blurred your vision.

My dearest Y/N,

By the time you’re reading this, I’ll be gone. I know you probably saw it coming—I’ve been distant for a while now. And I know you deserve more than this. A goodbye in words rather than on a page. But this is the only way I could say everything I need to. 

From the moment I met you, you were the brightest part of my life. You lit up every room you walked into. You taught me so much about patience, about kindness, about love.

And I failed you.

Things have been different, haven’t you noticed? I miss your laugh. I miss making you laugh. I miss that joyous echo of good times I could feel around the apartment, and I swear to god it was my favorite sound ever. I miss that. I miss us. 

I don’t know how we got here. I don’t know how to fix it. Actually, that’s a lie. I do. But maybe I’m not cut out for that. I know I’m losing you, and it feels like I’m losing myself too.

I’ve tried to convince myself that our love would be enough to bridge the gap between us, that I could make up for my shortcomings. But the truth is, I haven’t. I’ve barely tried to learn about you and your world. You’ve carried so much of the burden, of the weight of our relationship, and I just let you.

You deserve someone who won’t let you do that. Someone who will learn every gesture, every sign there is in the vocabulary of sign language, who will work tirelessly to meet you where you are.

That someone isn’t me.

I hate myself for not being enough for you. I hate that I couldn’t give you what you deserve. And I hate that my love for you isn’t enough to fix this.

You always tried to meet me where I was, even when I couldn’t meet you halfway. I see that now. And I hate that I didn’t see it sooner.

I think about how happy we’ve been, and yet there’s always this weight, this worry I can’t stop thinking about. Even in our brightest moments, something felt... off. It’s not because of you, but because of me. It's slowly destroying me.

I hope that someday, you find someone who will love you the way you deserve to be loved. Someone who will put in the effort I didn’t, someone who will never let you feel alone.

I’ll never stop loving you, Y/N. I just hope that letting you go gives you the chance to find the happiness I couldn’t give you.

I’m so sorry.

- Chenle

Your hands trembled, shaking the letter slightly, your tears dripping onto the paper and smudging the ink. You pressed your lips together, trying to stifle the sobs threatening to escape, but it was no use.

The dolphin on the table stared back at you as if it held all the memories you’d shared—the laughter, the quiet moments, the love.

You folded the letter carefully, placing it back in the envelope as your tears continued to fall. Sitting there in the silence, you felt the weight of his absence settle around you.

And yet, even through the pain, you couldn’t bring yourself to blame him.

Because you understood. And that hurt the most.

TAGLIST ↬ @lyvhie @aquaphoenixz @galacticnct @ldh0000 @polarisjisung @peterm4rker @sleepyvic @chenlesfavorite (u too pookie)

[isabeauwolf]

Ex Dabi x reader (x Hawks) - My World

It has been a few months since you two broke up.

You said you were done being a villain and out of Dabi's life.

You apprenticed under Giran as an information broker. The man picked you up off the street as a teenage run away and you never looked back. Well, until...

That. Nosy, goodie two-shoes, two-faced, hypocritical red winged chicken sunk his talons into you.

Stole you from him.

His doll. His woman.

Dabi's usually cool and carefree composure cracks every time he sees you with Japan's Number 2 Hero. His anger, rage and red hot jealousy burning like liquid fire in his veins as he feels his burnt, scarred and stapled jaw clenching and grinding; his free hand twitches and closes into a white knuckled fist.

Seeing you smile cutely. Blushing and giggling with earnest and genuine emotion in your doe-like eyes as the bastard's gloved knuckles brush the back of your cheek, shoving a soft lock of your hair behind your ear, gently cups your jaw and brings you into a kiss.

Dabi knows this faker was a double agent. Why couldn't you see that despite his warning? You usually have an incredible sense of reading people. How could you be so blind? Unable to see this lying heartbreaker through those rose tinted glasses.

Yes. Shigaraki and Giran had given you their permission to walk away, you no longer had a criminal record or it was deleted and destroyed by your hacker friend La Brava, who chose to support you in your career change.

Shigaraki, Giran, Toga, Twice, Mr Compress and hell, even Spinner missed you.

Dabi chose to watch from the shadows. No matter how much he hardened this heart, making himself go numb, shove the earth shattering pain and heartbreak down, masking it, locking it and burning the key with his blue hellfire flames.

Only when he was alone in his room at night did he breakdown every night, releasing silent screams into his pillow that still smelled like you. The one person who thawed his icy, horribly fragile, blackened, ash covered and twisted stitched back together heart.

Clutching the blue pillow to his chest as he cried bloody tears, shuddering and sobbing quietly and mentally remembering when you used to look at him like that. As if he was your whole world.

He should hate you with every fiber left in his soul, and yet... he couldn't... he couldn't bring himself to hate you.

Not even after you shattered his heart.

Dabi's eyes widen as more red, bloody tears covered and hazed his vision.

Seeing you look at Hawks made him second guess himself. Did you truly love him at all for this past year since he's joined the League?

Or were you only using him for information?

The more Dabi questioned himself and your relationship, the more his paranoia and mind began to unravel! No, no! You loved him. You said you did! You wouldn't have stayed by his side and nursed him back to health after he'd gotten sick and injured during a mission, if you didn't love him and didn't care. Right?

He thought about the last few weeks before you decided to break up.

"Touya?" You mumbled shyly while cuddling against his naked chest on his bed.

Touya hummed, opening an eye and glanced down at you, holding you close and the other arm underneath his head.

You opened your mouth and then closed it. You sat upright, dragging the sheet with you to cover your chest and frowned, "Do you... ever thing about the future... after the war is over? After you, Shigaraki and the rest of the gang have tore down Hero Society?"

Touya raised an eyebrow. This wasn't the first time you two had had this conversation. He reassured you that he would be all yours, whispering comforting words to try and soothe your fears. But this time felt different. "Doll, what's this really about?" He sat upright, tilting his head and cupping your cheek as tears spilled down your face and down his hand as he wiped them away. "Y/n?"

"I... I don't care... what happens to the world... I can't lose you.." You whimpered, salty droplets falling harder and faster as you sobbed and hiccuped. "I'm not... strong enough..."

Touya frowned and pulled you into his chest and into his lap. "Hey, hey, shush, I'm coming back, baby." It hurt him to see you like this. He rested his chin on top of your head as he held you tight and let you cry it out. "I can't leave my crybaby all alone in this shitty world, can I?"

You both knew it was a lie. You both held onto each other tightly as each others lifelines. Knew the clock was ticking, the closer it came to the boss' hibernation to gain more power.... it was only a matter of time before The Heroes would strike. Try to capture you both and lock you away forever.

There was no All For One or Overhaul, some other big baddies to distract the Heroes attention and escape routes, do-overs, resets, check points, it was all or nothing. The game will be going on auto pilot while the boss is sleeping and the NPC's, Allies, Enemies were all gathering their strength, training and preparing.

Sniffing once you had claimed down, you pulled away. "I love you, Touya Todoroki." You whispered, breathlessly.

Touya's eyes widened and his breath stilled, his heart thudding hard in his chest. That was the first time you ever said you loved him. There was no need to before, he knew you loved him from your actions alone. Words were cheap, actions spoke louder. You always whispered his old name so sweetly, like a secret, which it was. Only you were allowed to say it in private or during your love making and rough fucking in the sheets when everyone else was gone.

Your frown deepened. "I said, I love you... aren't you going to say it back?" You fiddling with your hands, showing how nervous you were.

Touya blinked, he couldn't voice his answer. He knew that a world without you would be hollow and empty. He felt half mad and worried when you were out gathering intel and groceries for The League in a disguise since you weren't well known, but the more paranoid part of him couldn't risk it.

Your hair covered your face and you started to crawl off his lap, bottom lip trembling. "Sorry.. sorry for bother-"

Touya cut you off, leaning forward, smashing his mismatched lips with your own and pushing your back against the mattress. You gasped and moaned into the kisses as he poured all of his love, feelings, heart and passion into it. He couldn't tell you yet, not yet. Instead, he would use his body, his hands, his fingers all of him into showing you. Using his scarred, burnt and broken body as an instrument to use to pleasure you, to protect you.... you; his too kind-hearted doll. He made love to you again, more tender and gentle, forcing orgasm after orgasm from your body, and greedy for more.

Dabi shook his head, furiously wiping away and painting his cheeks red from his tears as he scowled. He replayed the day you two broke up in his head as his hands tightening into the pillow.

Anger and fury resurfacing as you had just finished talking with Shigaraki about something. He didn't like not knowing what. You were always stupidly and annoyingly over excited to share your new assignment or information with him after telling the boss.

Your smile dropped as soon as you turned back to face him. "Hi, Dabi." Your frown deepened as you glanced at your feet.

Dabi's eyes narrowed as he tilted his head. Something was wrong. You hadn't been this nervous and shy since he first joined The League. "What's wrong, "V/n?"

You bit your lip and swallowed. "Can I... talk to you in private?"

Dabi walked towards you, his movements slow and intimidating as he towered over you. His presence usually smoothed you and comforted you, but now you were cowering before him. "We are alone right now. Talk." His voice calm, but a hint of ice in it. Backing you up against the cold, hard concrete wall behind you as he pressed his hard chest against your own, arms rising and boxing you in on either side of your head. "C'mon, my little doll. Tell your boyfriend the truth like a good little girl and maybe... maybe I'll go easy on you." He cooed darkly, lips curling into a wolfish and hungry grin, you knew he'd keep his dark promises.

He knew you loved his twisted praises.

Your breath hitched and you shivered against him, cheeks heating.

Your eyes met his own as he gently gripped your chin with his thumb and forefinger. "I-.."

His mouth ghosting over your own, this cat and mouse game never grew old between you two. "Yes?" Dabi whispered low and husky, excitement and lust heating his veins.

You closed your eyes, swallowed down your fear and pushed your courage to the surface. "I want to break up with you, Dabi!" You said that a lot louder than you meant to, but you said it, nevertheless.

Dabi paused and his heart stopped, his body froze and tensed. Did he hear you right? No. He couldn't have. You were just playing with him. A joke for scaring you. "Come again?" He bit out, he felt his body growing hotter, quaking and trembling with anger.

You didn't answer, which pissed him off even more.

Pulling away from you, his blunt nails digging into the concrete and the other slamming hard into the concrete slab beside you, a blast of blue embers igniting, leaving scorch marks. "Goddammit! Answer me, Y/n!" He hissed, turquoise eyes heated and dilated in furry.

The sound of wings flapping and something sharp pressed against his neck made Dabi peak over his shoulder. Of course, the nosy, Heroic red peacock was sticking his nose into business that didn't concern him. "What do you want, Hero?" The black haired man growled, meeting Hawks own cold hearted, amber glare.

"I believe you've been dumped my friend." Hawks answered. "Now, back away from her or things will get messy." Pressing his bladed red feather further into the other man's neck. "Go walk it off, hothead."

Everything in the villains body forced him to stay still. The hell he would leave you alone with this bastard. He knew you hated Heroes. No one had saved you when you needed them most, no one else, except for Giran. Not until The League and Dabi himself protected you, their treasure and info broker, their golden egg.

You were apart of them now. Their comrade. You've cried for them. You've risked your life for them time and time again. You've bleed for them.

"I don't like being told what to do, chicken feet." Dabi fully turned, keeping his back towards you, shielding you despite how royally irritated he was at you. He wasn't going to abandon you. He'd rather let his shitty old man have a free shot than trust this faker. "Our conversation is between us, not you. Beat it before I really get angry and burn your feathers."

Hawks lowered his weapon and sighed, shrugging his shoulders. "Talk about a flare for the dramatic arts you have, Dabi." He folded his red feathers behind his back, locking his gloved hands behind his head and spun around in a circle on his heels. "The missy clearly doesn't want you anymore and you can't let go." He clicked his tongue and frown, "That's just sad man, ya know? Happens all the time. The chemistry and romance fizzles out. You two don't click anymore." His golden gaze met the flame villains.

Dabi felt as if he had been stabbed in the heart with a knife and the stupid feathered freak was twisting it, deeper and deeper. It made his ire burn hotter and flames blaze, double fists white-knuckled as his hands ignited, bursting into azure hellfire. "Last warning, bastard." His eyes narrowed, snarling. "Back the fuck off, eyesore."

Hawks raised his crimson feathered blade and got into a battle stance, "Hard way it is then, flam-o."

Hero and Villain getting ready to charge.

You ran around Dabi and stood between them, raising your arms and yelled. "Stop! Please stop!"

Dabi and Hawks paused, eyes widen.

"Doll, move."

"Get out of the way before you get hurt, little bird."

Dabi grit his teeth, he hated the stupid pet bird name Hawks gave you. It didn't suit you at all. You were his doll. His baby. His little mousy. "The fuck are you nicknamin' my girl for, fuckface?" He growled.

Hawks raised an eyebrow. "What? As of.." He tilted his head and hummed, gripping his chin, then glanced down at his watch. "Five minutes ago, the girls single and free game right?" He winked and gave you a cheeky grin.

Dabi was seeing red, his blood boiling in his veins and he felt every muscle in his body twitch and grow alight. "The hell she is. Dream on, playboy." Bursts and sparks of his blue flames randomly appearing over his body: the side of his head, his palms and his shoulder. He hunched his shoulders, getting ready to charge using his legs and his flames as you stepped towards him.

He remained rooted on the spot, a heated and frustrated groaning hiss leaving his already raspy vocal cords. "Move out of my way, baby or you'll get hurt! I'm warning you, dammit!"

You puffed out your cheeks and chest. He knew you did it when your more stubborn and bratty streak came out while challenging him.

He normally would tease you and call you cute, playing your bluff. You were a shitty liar and had a terrible poker face. But right now was not one of those times.

"I'm not moving, Dabi." You spat, tears prickling the corners. "You either back down or run me over. Your choice?" Your voice cracked and breaking, voice trembling, the next few words felt like acid. "Hawks... is right... its over... Dabi.." Your body quivering and you sobbed, letting your tears spill freely. You would have fallen onto your knees and onto the ground had Hawks not caught you and pulled you into his arms.

"Hey, it's okay, I'm here, birdy." Hawks whispered softly into your ear, cradling you against his chest, wrapping one of his feathered wings around you and shielding you from Dabi's view.

Dabi's flames vanished, he shook his head. No. You didn't mean it. You couldn't mean it. It's a lie.... he thought, that fake motherfucker poisoned your mind with his false chivalry and play boyish charms. God, please, please... tell me this is all a nightmare. He swallowed the hard lump in his throat. He just realized that he said those words out loud, he own voice sounded foreign to him, broken, needy and pleading.

That wasn't like the infamous, cold-hearted, Dabi at all.

Hawks glanced over to the flame user with pity and sympathy. "Hate to break it to ya buddy, but it is." He picked you up in his arms as you wrapped your arms around his neck and sobbed harder into his bombers jacket. The Hero turned, but Dabi caught the frown and sorrow behind Hawks golden viser.

No. It clicked, that flying rat was in love with you!

You were letting him touch you and comfort you, which was his job.

Dabi shook himself, "Put her down, bird bitch." Jealousy already settling into his bones and twisting in his gut. If you left with Hawks, it would truly be over and you never explained why?! So many unanswered questions swirling in his mind.

Were you cheating on him with Hawks? No.

Hawks half turned, soften golden orbs glowered. "If you attack me. You risk hurting your ex-lover pyro. Is that what you want, hot shot?" He argued, scowling. "Hurting a defenseless woman out of anger? Pathetic man." His red feathers ruffled and flapped with aggravation and irritation, growing razor sharp. "Try it and I won't be nice a second time."

Dabi grit his teeth, his fists clenched so hard, his nails dug into his palms, breaking the skin, blood spilling from the wound and dripping on the ground. He didn't feel it. Couldn't even, if he tried. His sense of pain was dulled, except for the unbearable pain in his chest, his heart, and his soul. "Get the fucking hell out of my sight before I change my mind, Hero." He spat with venom as he stormed off in the opposite direction.

Dabi wouldn't admit it, but he regretted not stealing you away from Hawks when he had the chance. The next morning, you left a letter on his pillow saying that you had quit.

Standing from the bed, wearing only his sweatpants, he began to pace back and forth. The more he walked circles round and round the room, the more frustrated and heated he became, nearly tearing his hair out of his scalp.

So many puzzle pieces were missing. He couldn't ask the boss since he was still asleep. Dabi was tempted to barge into Twice's room and demand for him to make a clone of you. He needed answers, but he also missed you so goddamn much. He missed you hogging the blanket in the middle of the night, you wearing one of his shirts to bed and nothing else, you sleep in his bed and that cute, dopey, half sleepy and half awake smile on your face as he brought you your morning coffee.

Why couldn't you see that you were his whole goddamn world? He'd do anything to make you happy. He'd burn the world and anyone you asked him too.

Were you ashamed of him? Calling him your boyfriend? That he didn't repeat those three little words back to you when he should have? Of course, he loved you! He thought you knew that. Trusted him.

Dabi dug his blunt nails into his skull harder. What the fuck was he missing?!

It's all that stupid, huffing, puffing, red feathered assholes fault!

Hawks. Damned nosy, kiss ass.

Piss ant. Poser. Traitor. Double crossing, Hero spy.

Dabi's eye widened a fraction. Spy? Spy!

He stopped his pacing and his clawing. Scarred, burnt, stapled lips quirking and twitching into a feral, twisted and chesire cat grin. A string of giggles slipping past his mouth, laughing and snickers growing in volume, he spun on his heels, round and round, faster and faster, cackling into madness and hysterics.

All of it made sense now. You weren't in love with that prick. You were a spy for The League! Who better to butter-up that pansy than you.

Dabi signed and threw his body back onto his bed, half delirious and dizzy, the room spinning, his body still shook and giggles died in his throat and trying to regain his breath. Oh, my brilliant and beautiful, crafty doll. He wished he could kiss you and smother you with cuddles, praises, love bites and bury himself into your warmth and body. My naughty girl, keeping a secret mission from me. His little mousy had truly grown into a fine villain.

----------

Fanfic inspired by the song: My World by SR-71

https://youtu.be/1MNukXXhOMA?si=1YhVOZgedAP8VlUB

I'm sorry 😭 Touya. The angst, hurt and heartbreak 💔 just hit while I was listening to this song on my music playlist

Should I make a part 2? Tell me your thoughts 😉 Should reader and Dabi get back together?

If I missed you in my tag list let me know! 💞 Or if you want me to take you off my tag list, I understand.

Tag list: @fanofflames @slayfics @angelblueflame @cherry-queens-blog @tapiocakisses @moonchild701 @selinakyles-wife @shadow-w1zard-money-gang @dabislittlemouse @nekolover93 @kkodzukens @phantomhoeass @s-k-3-l-l-y @fabled-lady-twilla @trickster-kat @myvillainacademiafan @nikki0606 @metranart @m3gumibear @staitc-rj @spectra-phantasma @kyiratodoroki

[vaguely-concerned]

I've been trying to figure out a dynamic between neve and rye that I find more compelling, because right now there's not much of anything there for me to sink my little teeth into. but I think I've landed on something delicious with the idea that especially after minrathous gets fucked, rye looks at neve and sees myrna -- someone he feels he keeps letting down horribly no matter how hard he tries not to and can't quite achieve the approval of/connection with that he wishes so it's better to just pull away completely and disengage rather than stay in that unshifting shame. neve is (very understandably) measured and distant with him after what happened, and he's flashing back to his student days of myrna gazing at the perpetually hungover heartbroken heap of a person of him on the other side of her desk every time he missed the deadline of a paper or project like '...can we at least both agree that this is. a bit disappointing. especially considering your potential.' (and him all smudged black eyeshadow and numb ruefulness being like 'sure that's a very kind way to put it myrna thank you'.)

aside from the 'if I let him get too deeply into this he'll go the way of brom and it'll be all my fault (again)' element, neve thinks rye is dismissing her and her city/being a bit callous in the same way he was after varric's death (listen. how fucking wild must rook's reaction to losing a beloved mentor seem to the rest of the crew who aren't seeing the blood magic paper doll ghost varric the whole time, especially those who got to see them interact. you WOULD think 'there's something wrong with this guy. putting the job first is one thing just not seeming to react at all is another this is fucking freaky', wouldn't you, especially after seeing the warmth in that dynamic in action beforehand.) perfect storm of two people who grit their teeth and turn inwards in pain deciding that not talking about it is their best bet (NEWSFLASH: IT ISN'T) lmao

(rye spent his last year of watcher training on a mostly joyless bender and then got it together enough to finish the eternal orb project last moment in a fevered near-sleepless week instead of the half a year that was intended. emmrich is both astounded and distressed to hear this. "a week? but -- but that is an astounding accomplishment rook!! and also why in the maker's good light would you ever do that to yourself?" ("well you see there was no one to stop me from doing it like that but me. and under those conditions these things tend to happen".) rye was working through/looking up stuff around transitioning and doing every kind of OTHER high level watcher research through that whole time, but ultimately he's an excellent watcher and a terrible student, at least under traditional methods. adhd from here to the fucking moon. touched by something akin to divine inspiration in moments of high tension that pulls all the threads into one coherent unbreakable cord, a bit of a frayed mess in most other settings. in our world he'd be dropping out of a masters program at the very last hurdle in this moment maker bless and protect him)

[i-miss-lotor]

So I romanced Astarion and let him ascend and I'm not going to lie, I always had a bit of a hate towards people who look down on me and call me or well, my characters, pet and such. And Astarion didn't change that, especially with the degradation part

But

Imagining the future where my character slowly becomes miserable with Astarion because while he does love her, he doesn't see her as his equal. And I mean even if you want to break up with him after the ascension and defeated brain he just doesn'tlet you (though im not there yet, i just read it somewhere). Imagining him slowly becoming furious, compelling my character to do things, to love him and then anger turns into desperation and hell, he just wants her, what can he do to make her love him again, what does she want, he will give it to her

Anyway I just want them to be happy, then miserable, then to slowly learn to love each other again with Astarion begrudgingly being a tiny bit nicer to others (cause my character mostly likes being nice but also she was an urchin, she's not above blackmail and deception and such. Ohh plus she's a bard, imagine Astarion wanting her to sing again but she doesn't so he makes her and it just breaks the trust again and again

And a scene where she escapes and then Astarion finds her and brings hell with him and kills whoever decided to help her and he's slowly breaking her spirit from the strong and defying woman she was, not realising at first that it's breaking him too.

(I especially like that little movement, swinging himself a bit when you ask if you can talk about your relationship with him and he responds "yes, my treasure?" *happy swingies, he's so happy and cute* and then cuts to him being angry and desperate and sad that his love doesn't look at him with adoration anymore, that the look he receives is not even angry but empty)

And the realization that oh no, did he became another Cazador? But no, he is better than him, he doesn't treat you like he was treated! ...does he?

[dairyfreenugget]

I could count the amount of original stories of mine that don't have horror elements on one hand and idk what that says about me

[happyk44]

Nico’s love for Percy vs Percy’s guilt over Bianca

[cheswirls]

magi rambling

idk it jus hit me out of nowhere how much i love magi fic and how sinja is portrayed in such. imo THEEEE best magi fic of all time is works cowritten by galiko and daphnerunning, those two were genuinely on galaxy brain mega dimension level thinking full time, but like less abt magi meta as a whole and more on how the characters are so true to themselves and their flaws

it's been so long that in not gonna be able to remember who all did it but i def remember all of galiko's sinja fic that also portrayed sinbad/judal to some extent, that it was made very clear in the text how differently and on different footing both relationships stood. judal especially in their hands was written so well in a way that changed how i viewed the character in canon to some extent and in every other piece of fictional media. like how can you write someone so pathetic and deceptive and a bastard and it's all perfectly in character

I've never been into sin/ju and i don't think i ever read anything w them in fic seriously or w/o skimming but i did sit thru enough to know how the galiko/daphne pair brought them forth and made it very wanton-ly obvious that sin is always just manipulating judal and leading him on to get what he wants at the end of it all, but in contrast, it's clear that he so deeply loves ja'far in ways mere words cannot express

to see the relationship dynamics compared and contrasted in fic was always such a treat because sin treats almost everyone like they're a stepping stone used to further his own objectives, but then he treats his advisor like a genuine person. shows real care and concern, becomes inconsolable when ja'far is hurt, refuses to quell his rage for any reason when someone has wronged ja'far. his advisor truly is his precious person that he can strip down out of his title as king and just be sinbad around.

and this is even further glorified when ja'f knows but insists he doesn't!!! playa it off bc sin is king and this is uncouth!!! only to have such moments of weakness when anything goes terribly wrong and he's suddenly on the brink of death, terrified of leaving sin behind all alone, letting himself have just as long as it takes to recover the bare minimum amount to bask in sin's unending devotion. they truly do treat each other differently in canon and otherwise and it's so gratifying to see and realize each time as someone who loves sinja so dearly

[tariah23]

Well, I’m still glad that Gojo was always a character who was growing and learning at least. He’s literally one of my favorite characters of all time now. Like, he’s never been as perfect as how the fans would make him out to be despite canonically being viewed as an absolute nuisance to everyone around him (I don’t think his peers necessarily hate him but a lot of them probably hate to see him coming and the ones who’ve dealt with him long enough to consider him a friend, tolerate him and groan whenever he opens his mouth, too 😭… out of love. He’s extremely childish so there is only sm the other adults around him can take and to an extent, his students. I think the only characters in canon who adore him and their eye’s sparkle whenever he’s around, and being a silly teacher was Yuuji and Miwa (she asked him for his autograph (he’s the most famous sorcerer in the jjk world) and when she was alone, she did a little dance in the empty hallway 🥺…) from what we’ve seen even though the others still care about him, too. They just find him rather annoying, which he most definitely is. And he does it on purpose. He plays too much.)

[milkbreadtoast]

tbh the blonde guy and pink girl currently w massive leads DO deserve to win dkfbdm

[sttoru]

·.⌇ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. thinking about true form!sukuna having a huge size kink (+ corruption kink).

word count. 2.6k

note. super self-indulgent. cant rlly blame me for creating this. also do you see those big ass hands in the header i used? yeah.. says enough (this sucks ass)

tags. dom heian era!sukuna x concubine!female reader. smut. porn with plot. size kink / size difference (reader gets referred to as ‘short’ & ‘small’). p in v -> unprotected. degradation. corruption kink (reader gets referred to as ‘naive’, 'shy' & innocent’-looking). tummy bulging. loss of virginity mention. hymen breaking mention. cervix fucking, ouch. lots of teasing. tiny bit of choking. tiny mention of blood tasting ? idk. hint at anal / double penetration. dirty talk. sukuna has two of everything btw mehehe. reader get called ‘woman, brat, slut, little'.

sukuna is intrigued by you. he’s always been, since the moment he’s laid his eyes upon you. your loyalty and devotion to him are two aspects that the king of curses likes most about you. .

. . after your innocence.

it nearly irked him. every time he saw you hanging around the estate without a single care in the world. sukuna would attempt to intimidate you with serious threats. he’d loom over your short stature and look down at you with a malicious glint in his eyes. though, none of it seemed to work.

you'd only bow your head at him and apologise if you’ve caused him any possible inconveniences. it annoyed the sorcerer. you weren’t trembling in fear like all the others would — it was like there was nothing going on in that head of yours. especially when you smile at him. which no one actually dares to do.

sukuna could crush you. with no effort. one big hand would be enough to pick your entire body up, lift you in the air and throw you around like a ragdoll. you don’t seem to fear the possibility of that happening, even when being faced with a pissed off sukuna.

it’s truly intriguing and amusing. that’s why sukuna kept you around every day — as a form of entertainment, he called it. one thing led to the other and you eventually ended up as one of his concubines. the king of curses himself decided to grant you that promotion.

why? because not only does your fragile body, reserved and polite personality and innocence secretly fascinate him — it also makes him crave you. crave to shatter that naivety of yours. to take that small body of yours and make it feel what it means to be overpowered by a man twice your size.

sukuna does not regret his decision to make you his concubine. the first night you spent together was one of the best nights he had ever had. in all his many years of living. not a single woman had ever succeeded in blowing his mind when it came to sex.

it was usually boring and repetitive for the sorcerer. he felt nothing for those women he’s had in bed before — it was solely for the fact of satisfying himself. though, that changed on the day you had given him your virginity.

he remembers every detail; from your little noises of both pain and pleasure, your tight and untouched pussy that bled faintly when the fat tip of his lower cock pushed through, your nails that dug into his arms and back, your thighs that he held to your chest, his large hands that could easily wrap around the fat of them, your aching cunt that was left spasming around air as it tried to keep his sticky cum stored in place.

sukuna didn’t think your tears would affect him as much. when he took your virginity and you whimpered in pain — he did feel a twinge of guilt. it was strange; he hadn’t felt that emotion before. he had stopped and wiped your tears away. roughly whispered some words of encouragement too.

he had never done so before. never. he had never told anyone how ‘good’ they were for him. how he’d be ‘careful’ to not make it hurt any more. the king of curses recalls vividly how slow he started with you. slow sex. instead of rough like he’s used to.

sukuna wasn’t chasing after his own pleasure in that moment like he’d usually have. his main priority was to make sure the girl below him was comfortable enough to continue. you’re strange. the things you make him do, say and feel are strange. and yet. . .

it was an amazing night. the best. however sukuna was left behind with an insatiable hunger for you. more, more, more. he can’t grasp it yet; why he longs for you. for those feelings he’s suddenly capable of experiencing during intimate moments.

it’s why he calls for you every night. no other concubine was needed after you were made one. the king of curses couldn’t care less about those other women. they are boring to him.

unlike you. the one he’s sure that he won’t ever get bored of.

“you can take me so well now,” sukuna breathes out. one of his cocks was inches deep inside you, bulbous tip painfully hitting your cervix. over the past few weeks, your body had learnt to adjust to him, your pussy molded to fit the shape of his dick.

sukuna looks down at you and his cocks twitch with the urge to release already. his heavy balls clenching. your fucked out state is adorable. you seemed so.. vulnerable underneath the big man, “what a fragile little thing.”

it almost sounded condescending. degrading. especially with sukuna’s lips being curled up into a mean grin, his sharp canines showing. there was a puddle of your cum forming underneath your hips — staining the sheets that the poor servants have to clean by tomorrow morning.

“p-please, fngh, ‘s too big,” you sputter out. no matter how many times you took sukuna in, your smaller body couldn’t quite fully accommodate to the girth of him. every time he hits your deepest parts, you let out a painful whimper.

sukuna kisses his teeth, though slows his thrusts a bit. the wet sounds of his cum and yours getting pushed in and out of your cunt with each move was too addicting. what sukuna loves most is the view of the skin of your lower abdomen swelling and stretching each time he pushes forward.

“i thought you said you’d take both of my cocks today, yet it seems like you can’t even handle one,” the king of curses sighs whilst belittling you. one set of hands is holding you down by your hips, the other set is fondling your stiff nipples and circling your sensitive clit, “what a pity. a real pity.”

you almost choke on your spit as all your sensitive spots were being fondled. sukuna’s thick fingers leave no place untouched as he increases the tempo again—his cock plunging in and out of your stretched hole. the upper one was twitching, rubbing against your clit and lower abdomen.

sukuna harshly grabs your jaw and makes you look up at him after he hears you apologise for making empty promises. he seems satisfied with you staying so polite. even when he’s practically rearranging your guts. the way you talk through your soft sobs and cries is endearing. makes him grin wickedly.

“i don’t want to break my favourite little concubine yet, you see,” sukuna continues. he lets out a grunt of pleasure when your pussy clenches around his thick cock. no matter how many times he fucks you dumb, you still remain as tight as the first time.

he takes in a deep breath. he’s trying his best not to pound you into the mattress. he’d fold you in half and probably break you like the fragile thing you are. he could snap you like a twig if he wasn’t careful, “. . .but you’re making it very difficult for me.”

you respond by apologising again. oh, how cute it was to see you babble and make up excuses. sukuna grits his teeth, jaw clenching as he resists the urge to go harder on you. you’re already squirming and moaning loudly just because he’s fucking you hard and deep—bruising your cervix and forcing your walls to open up to him.

“‘m sorry, wanna take both.” you hiccup and sniffle. tears ran down your cheeks from overstimulation. it felt so good yet so painful to be taken by the person you admire most. you didn’t want to displease him, so you uttered those hopeless yet needy sentences again.

sukuna stops his movements when you weakly ask him to use both of his cocks on you. he scoffs, not knowing where you gained the confidence from. he pulls out of your dripping cunt, leaving a trail of cum connecting both your genitalia.

“‘wanna take both,’ she says,” sukuna mocks you under his breath. it’s getting worse; he’s nearing the point of no return. especially with your desperate whines that were like music to his ears, “you’ll break, woman.”

two of his hands move to stroke along his lengths, smearing the mixture of body fluids all over them. his eyes glare down at your small form—already fucked out, yet aching to continue. needing the full experience for once.

you always turn from a shy girl to a complete slut whenever he has you in bed. sukuna loves it.

“i want to try at the very least,” you mutter. it’s true that you’re exhausted. you’re catching your breath now that you got the chance, tired eyes glancing up at sukuna’s enormous stature between your legs, his defined muscles and the tattoos on them glistening under the faint light of the oil lamp.

it got your pussy throbbing and clamping down around air. you felt a bit light headed and your head lolls back against the pillow, eyes glazed over as you try to seem determined. but your body was tired.

“yeah? how. . . cute,” sukuna grins. he knows you can’t. not today at least. he doesn’t mind if you aren’t capable of taking him fully since you’ve already pleased him well enough for now. though, he still can’t help but tease you—make it seem like he’s going to give you what you want, “all right. don’t say i didn’t warn you.”

your eyes widen and your fingers curl around the silky bedsheets beneath you in anticipation. your heart is pounding in your chest as you watch sukuna pump his two cocks a bit faster, squeezing the base a bit, leaking some pre.

it’s all just for show.

“i’m not stopping. even if you scream.” the king of curses warns you with a dangerous glint in his eyes. you gulp at the terrifying aura sukuna was emitting. one of his tips teases your entrance whilst the other probes and circles around your anus.

he threatens you again, testing if you’ll back down, “last chance. i’m not pulling out once i’m in, do y’hear me?”

you keep being stubborn until the very last second. sukuna’s deep voice that shook you to your core was not enough to make you change your mind. you were so desperate to fulfill his every need and make sure that he was satisfied. it made you the perfect woman in his eyes.

the king of curses is completely amused. he decides to take it up a notch. he pushes his lower cock against the tight ring of muscles, pressing and nearly allowing the tip to move in. the sudden increase in pressure is torturous. you surely wouldn’t be able to withstand the entire thing.

“w-wait!” you squeal in surprise and pain. the sting you felt made you snap back into reality. it’s when you realised that maybe you needed more time and experience to take both of sukuna’s dicks. you squirm your hips away, “can’t. i can’t.. hurts too much.”

sukuna nearly rolls his eyes once you finally give in. he shakes his head with a sigh, feigning disapproval and annoyance. he pulls his entire body away from yours—a ominous shadow casted over his eyes. it makes you think that he’s pissed off at you; for being unable to please him.

you panic a little. even if you are sure sukuna wouldn’t ever hurt you. you know he favours you over the other concubines. you don’t want to lose that position.

“i’m sorry.” you apologise before the sorcerer could say anything. he lets out a sharp breath, rough hands back on your body, kneading your flesh gently yet firmly. his eyes take in the view of you trembling.

it’s unreal. you are half his size—completely vulnerable underneath him. he’d normally call people like you weak and useless. wouldn’t feel a thing for them. but your naked body below his is a sight he wishes to see every night.

it turns sukuna on so much. the fact that you are helpless and don’t complain when you’re struggling to take one of his cocks gets him going each time.

“tsk. what’d i tell you?” sukuna grumbles. he slaps his lower cock firmly against your clit. your body responds by closing your thighs together, though the king of curses pries them apart again, “stop overestimating yourself, brat.”

he isn’t actually mad. it was expected—of course you couldn’t take both at once. he didn’t even prep your other hole enough. plus you are clearly still exhausted from the previous rounds. sukuna just likes to. . . test and take advantage of your devotion to him. your obedience and desires to please him.

it’s fascinating to see you squirm and apologise in that whiny voice of yours. it makes him grin from ear to ear. and it keeps things fun.

before you could mutter excuses again, sukuna stops you by leaning in. just when you thought you’d finally get to kiss him, he goes to bite down on your bottom lip. a moan slips out of your mouth which only spurs him on to bite down harder.

you could feel the devilish smirk on sukuna against your lip. his wet tongue cleans up the tiny drop of blood that escaped the wound. he lets out a low hum in approval at the taste. delicious as always.

“now, how should i punish my little concubine for being unable to keep her word?” sukuna whispers in a serious tone. it sends shivers down your spine, his hot breath traveling from your jaw to your right ear. he slowly licks your earlobe, “what do you say? any ideas?”

the tension in the room was palpable. your heart was stammering in your throat from the proximity between the two of you. you gather the courage to answer as sukuna’s fingers curl around your neck, squeezing your throat as if forcing the answer out of you.

“i-i’ll do anything, sir.” you reply through a shaky breath. the king of curses pulls back after he’s got a response from you. your eyes meet his and that’s when you know that you’ve either greatly pleased him or have given him the chance to go all out on you.

it’s probably both.

“anything, you say?” sukuna repeats slowly. without a warning, he effortlessly flips you over on your stomach, a set of hands pulling your ass up by your hips whilst the other set holds your upper body down on the mattress.

a harsh grip on the back of your head results into you whimpering. your face was mushed into a pillow, almost leaving no place to breathe. your back is placed in the perfect arch with your plump ass facing up. it’s one of sukuna’s favourite positions to do with you — especially because it makes you seem smaller than you already are.

“heh. i’ll make you regret saying that.” sukuna chuckles. a low, evil and wicked chuckle. that’s enough to make you realise that he was not going easy on you. your submission had greatly impressed the king of curses and he's taking advantage of it. again.

what would come next could be a reward for that said submission. he’s going to fuck your brains out and make you forget about everything else except for his dick. a night you won’t ever forget as long as you live—that’s a possibility.

or perhaps you’re going to be crying and begging him to go easy on you. a punishment for not being able to keep your promise. that could also happen.

anyway, you’re about to find out which one it is.

[mithrun-house-of-kerensil]

Lately, I've been thinking about Mithrun and the ways he is dehumanized in canon.

Before I get started, we know that elven society is incredibly afraid of death and illness. This is obvious in how they look down on the short lived races and see them as weak and childlike. We also know that Mithrun himself had ableist views toward his brother and these values did not leave him once he, himself, became disabled. He is a product of the society that raised him, but I also think how Mithrun is currently being treated contributes to his view of himself.

Mithrun has had three different caretaking groups over the years. The first are the ones his brother hired for him. From what we can see, they did the job, but we can understand that they did not know what to do with him. No one had ever recovered from having their desires eaten so the focus was less on rehabilitation and more on keeping him alive.

Later we see Milsiril take an interest in him because of his desire to return to the dungeon. Since she did not bother to visit him for decades after finding him, we can assume that there is an ulterior motive here. Timeline-wise, this was when the majority of the canaries had just been wiped out. They needed more men, and Mithrun is set up to be the perfect single-focused soldier.

Honestly, we can assume that Milsiril doesn't really care about him or see him as a person. Mithrun is just a new project for her to play with. We can see this in how she's focused on superficial level concerns like the fact that he doesn't look nice and wanting him to be overly grateful toward her. She also talks about him like he's not in the room and can't hear her. This is a dehumanizing trait shared by many characters when talking about Mithrun.

When he finally does recover enough to return to the canaries, the military does not make any effort to accommodate his needs. We know the canaries are understaffed and the ethics are already bad, but they really did not even try to care about Mithrun's safety at all.

Entrusting a criminal with his care was questionable at best, especially when Cithis immediately took the opportunity to abuse her power over him and no one stopped her.

While acknowledging the light-hearted nature of the manga, it's uncomfortable that Mithrun was treated like a child and an animal by Cithis for her amusement. Regardless of her 'learning to respect him' later, the point is that Mithrun was taken advantage of and degraded because she believed he couldn't say no. No one bothered to do anything about this until Pattadol yelled at her.

Truly his treatment is summarized well by Milsiril here. Mithrun is extremely vulnerable to being abused by those taking care of him because he won't advocate for himself. He has one desire so he won't fight for himself in any other way.

It is obvious that Mithrun was not treated well by his caretakers and this has resulted in him identifying his needs through a disconnected and frankly, infantilizing lens.

I understand that it may have been a translator's decision, but I always thought it was interesting that Mithrun says that he's "not sleepy" which is a childish term. Otherwise, he speaks like everyone else, if not rather posh.

This, followed by the fact that he is responsive to Kabru treating him like a literal infant to get him to eat, paints a clear picture of the fact that Mithrun is not unfamiliar with being treated like this. He responds to it because he's used to it and has no desire to argue with being treated this way. When we consider the fact that the chapter started with Milsiril treating an older child Kabru in the same way, it is likely that she also did the same thing to Mithrun when he was under her care.

In these panels, we see that Mithrun does not believe that he can sleep without magical assistance, even though it is immediately refuted when Kabru takes the time to bundle him up and help him relax. Not only does he fully believe he can't sleep without external assistance, but he states directly that there is no point in him getting comfortable.

As Kabru observes, Mithrun's inability to recognize his needs applies to needs such as hunger and exhaustion, but it obviously also applies to emotional needs. Kabru just wanting to feed him something delicious and not wanting him to give up on life is the most consideration someone has given Mithrun in years.

The relationship they form over the course of a single week is enough to shape Mithrun's behaviour completely. Mithrun ignores Cithis's demand in favour of asking Kabru's opinion. It is Kabru's hand Mithrun takes to pull him out of his defeated state. It is Kabru Mithrun confessed his true desire to.

Do you realize how depressing that is? All it took was the new perspectives from Kabru and Senshi to make him consider the fact that he should keep living despite no longer needing to fulfill his duty. Being treated well could have helped Mithrun much sooner and this shift in the way he sees himself contributes to his recovery going forward.

TLDR: Mithrun has no desire to be respected, but why does that make people feel comfortable acting like he doesn't deserve it? Someone not caring about being treated well doesn't give you permission to treat them poorly. This feels like a playschool-level consent lesson: just because he's not saying no to a humiliating or degrading act doesn't mean it's a yes and therefore okay to do. Acknowledging this is the bare minimum of treating him as a person.