#how do i STILL HAVE SO MANY FEELINGS ABOUT THIS

[kekewrites]

tw. Dark content, noncon, dubcon, creampie, size kink, magic onahole/toy/fleshlight, coercion, mind-break, corruption, obsession, gaslighting(?), objectification(?)

part 2 of the onahole troupe

***

"Sweetie~ Are you already out? Come on, you can still keep going."

Hot... It's so hot.

Whining, your body continue to bounce on him, hole swallowing his fat cock. Sweat and cum staining your thighs, sticky and wet as it mixes with your juices.

Such a hot sight. His hands gripping your hips, helping you bounce on him and sometimes meeting your hips with his own, making you whine and sob.

You were so sensitive, having no idea how much time have passed. How many orgasm he pulled out of you.

"I'm helping you, remember?" He sat up, wrapping his arms around as he pulls you close. "Ha... You're so cute. That bastard won't touch you anymore, ok? I'm here."

Barely hanging on, you nodded as your ears started to ring. If there was still a rational part of you awake, you would've find his words suspicious, but you were just too dumb for that. Blindly trusting your friend, believing him with your being.

He promised to help you.

So why does it feel like you made the wrong choice?

That tiny rational thought of yours was pushed as you felt his lips on your own.

***

It was odd how the phantom disappeared after his help.

Your complexion improved, the shadows under your eyes fading as if the weight of their presence had been slowly draining you all along. Sleep came easier now, uninterrupted by restless nights and unwanted pleasure, able to focus studying without it whisking your attention away.

Sitting in class, you were finally able to listen without dreading for the touches.t was freeing.

You were glad you told him.

Smiling a bit, you open your cellphone as you think of hanging out with them. You really missed them, thinking about how you three rarely hang out nowadays. It used to be so easy to hang out with your closest friends, without having to plan anything elaborate. Just a quick text, and before you knew it, you were all together. But lately, it was about you two without your more or less busy friend. You know how much he took his studies seriously, often holding back to invite him whenever you discover a film you'd both like to watch.

Determined, you found yourself texting him, sending him a little message of, "Are you busy? Let's meet at the library when it's lunch time!"

You nervously shifted on your sit as you await his reply, a minute after you feel your phone vibrate.

"Sure."

You couldn't wait for the class to be over.

***

"Hey, what's up?" You heard his voice as he sat down beside you. Your usual hangout spot, comfort place, and your solace before those events happened.

Beaming, you turned to him, grateful for the simple presence of someone you're comfortable with.

"Are you done with your studies? I was hoping we could hangout soon, all three of us..." You speak, your confidence dipping down as you let out the last part.

Resting his chin on his hand, "Hmm... We have a quiz for next week in my major," He observes as your smile fades, "But I suppose, I'll make time for you," He swears it's like watching a dog wag its tail as he see you regain your smile.

It couldn't hurt to relax a little, it's been a while since you two hangout. He did notice how you were with that stupid guy in the past few days

You softly clap your hands, "That's great! Oh, we should do a movie marathon!" As you babble your plans, he couldn't help but notice how more... alive you look compared to before. He was still wondering why you were so troubled back then, but he's glad you got it solved out.

Humming, you started typing on the notes in your phone, making plans and listing movies to watch, throwing in snacks to buy as well. It was safe to say that you're really excited to be able to be with your best friends.

It would be just a fun night with the guys, right?

***

"Come on, don't be upset. Something probably important came out that he won't be able to come."

It seems that the three of you wouldn't be able to hangout, as the two of you sit on the couch.

Grumbling, you hug the couch pillow close to your chest as you glance at the text message left by your friend. It was upsetting but you couldn't be that upset since he rarely wasn't able to come in your hangout session, and since he's the one who helped you after all.

"Yeah, you're right. It can't be helped, I guess…" you sigh, trying to hide your disappointment as you sink further into his couch. The soft fabric and cozy atmosphere of his apartment help ease your mood a bit.

"I'm sure the three of us will meet up soon. Plus, the two of us haven't hangout for a while."

Come on, it's not so bad to be alone with him, you know?

"Yeah, that's true," you say, trying to shake off the disappointment. You steal a glance at him as he queues up a movie. It's been a while since the two of you just hung out alone like this, and despite the change in plans, it feels nice.

As the movie starts, you realize he accidentally picked a horror film—complete with dark shadows, creepy music, and plenty of jump scares. You’re both laughing it off at first, but the sudden shocks get you clutching the couch pillow a bit tighter, scooting unconsciously closer to him.

The atmosphere shifts when an unexpected scene appears—a moment that’s more... explicit than either of you anticipated. You feel your face heat up as you quickly avert your eyes, feeling a mix of embarrassment and tension settle between you. You catch him glancing away too, clearing his throat nervously.

What is he, five? Getting flustered with such scene, not like he hasn't done any worse than it.

"I... think I need to use the bathroom," he mumbles, standing up hastily and heading out of the room, leaving you alone on the couch.

You’re left there, pulse racing slightly as you try to shake off the awkwardness.

This is bad, you suddenly remember all of your other friend's help. Clutching your legs close, you try to avert your attention somewhere while waiting for your friend to come back.

Though, you felt your stomach drop as that familiar and unwelcome touch came up.

***

What the hell is he even thinking?

He tries to find his reason as he stares at the onahole on his hand, that idiot's gift to him. It's been a week since he had last use this thing, yeah it felt good and feels like the real deal but after one use he never touched it again.

So why the hell is he using it while thinking of you? The same girl who's sitting on his couch right now, in his apartment?

His eyes glance at the lube on the counter, putting the wet lotion on his free hand. It's your fault he got hard, you were too squirmy and... cute. That shitty horror movie wasn't even that good with the corny soft porn scenes but you... were just having an effect on him. So damn shy and innocent reactions, he needed to get out before he'd lost his composure and pounce on you.

But he's not a brute, no he isn't like those rabid animals.

Imagining does not count, no, no, he's only letting his frustration out.

So with the touch of his fingers, rubbing the entrance of the onahole he let himself go.

***

Jumping from the couch, you looked around frantically as you felt that horrifying touch on your nether region. 

That's impossible! You though he already fixed it!

Silently crying on your hands, you tried to keep your noises.

You've experienced that ghostly touch countless times however this time, it felt a bit calculative yet desperate, as if another entity was touching you. It felt weird but you can feel how different this one was touching you.

Is there another ghost who's harassing you?

Will it ever go away?

You cried as you felt something big goes inside you.

***

Shit, he forgot how realistic this onahole was. When was the last time he used it? Weeks ago? He doesn't remember but he might use it again now. Since his darling is always inviting him to hangout, this little gift might save him from pouncing on you when you're just a little too cute for his liking. Not only that but because of the hectic projects and assignments coming in, he hasn't had the time to relieve himself.

His thrust is fast and uncaring, yet a bit desperate for release. He felt himself feeling more sensitive as he imagine if this was your cunt instead, squeezing and twitching around his cock. He loves how automated this thing was, his mind just running wild as he imagines you sitting alone in his couch unsuspected of his vulgar and filthy thought of you. It's wrong but it damn this onahole just feels so right.

Slamming himself on the tight hole, he pinch the little clit and felt the walls squeeze tight making him come undone. Hissing and twitching as his cock shoots down his massive load inside the toy. What a waste, it would've been better if he could shoot it down your womb. Exhaling, he slowly pulled out of the toy, savoring the way the wall clung on his shaft before his head pops off.

Fuck. He's really a goner now. 

He's no better than a scumbag for letting his mind wander to thoughts about his best friend, his childhood friend… his first crush, his first and only love. He remembers how he was when you two first met—a boy who struggled to connect with anyone. He didn’t see the point in making friends, preferring to stay on the sidelines, reserved and detached.

Though, him, was the exception as both of their parents were business partners and have good relationship with each other. It's only natural for them to build a connection, solely for maintaining good connections with their business partners. Over time, he realized how strangely alike the two of them were, as if they shared the same quirks and preferences.

Well, he shouldn't think of that while thrusting his dick on a toy but he can't help but reflect on the way they are alike. He certainly knows, that guy shares the same affection he has on you, and he hated how he can't feel jealous because... he's fine with sharing you if it's him. But he's a little pissed at how you two were hanging out lately, he only have himself to blame by taking his studies seriously unlike that guy.

That's not important now, he has you in his room alone with no one else to ruin your moment with him. Shit, he felt the toy tighten around him.

His mind goes blank as he felt himself getting closer.

***

"Hey, sorry I took a while, but I'm... back?" he said, sitting down on the couch. His voice trailed off, quieter and confused, as he noticed you hugging yourself with your head hung low.

"What's wrong?" he asked immediately, placing a hand on your back as he tried to see your face. His eyes narrowed as he waited for your response, only to widen when he saw your tear-streaked face.

"I-It... touched me again..."

"What do you mean?"

And you broke down, crying as you told him about the phantom.

Any sane person would be skeptical, hell they would probably put you in the asylum for the things you swore happened to you. He'd get you help if it weren't for that one specific detail, an oddly timed and complete coincidence. Where that phantom touched you the same time he had gotten the toy... and the way it touch you just minutes later he went to the bathroom.

No way...

Surely, it was just a coincidence...

He supposed testing that theory wouldn't hurt.

With a lousy excuse of getting you a glass of water from the kitchen, he went straight to the bathroom to take that toy, sure it was big enough to be seen by you, but the way you were staring down on the floor as you quietly sob made it easy to sneakily place the onahole behind the couch pillow. Close for his hand to touch but unnoticeable from your teary eyes.

His hand goes behind the pillow right where the toy is.

"Ah!"

It can't be... Such an impossible story.

"J-Just now... it touched me!"

His finger went in.

"No! It went inside...!"

This is crazy.

He knows it's wrong but watching you panic and look around with frantic and terrified eyes made his cock throb. Not knowing that the source of your trouble being right in front of you made it immoral, so bad, and it made his cock harden.

"Hey, I'll... chase out that bastard for you." His wandering finger pulls out of the toy, his other hand cupping your tear stained cheek, "You don't have to worry anymore. You said that guy made that phantom disappear, right?" He sweetly cooed, a rare tone in his voice, "Just trust me on this one like he'd done with you, yeah?"

Your back gently hits the couch as he straddles you, "Be a good girl and relax, I'm just going to help you."

Doubt and wariness swirls in that doe eyes of yours. He can see the uncertainty in that stupid head of yours, but he knew you'd agree with him. You always do.

"O-Ok... Please help me."

And he's right about that.

You're just too trusting, aren't you? Stupid girl.

It's your fault he's like this to you.

All your fault.

There’s a faint metallic click as his belt buckle comes undone, and the soft rasp of fabric follows as he frees himself from his pants. His cock springs free, the swollen head brushing against your inner thigh. He can't believe he's finally doing this. The girl he ever wanted right beneath him, all bare and for him to ruin.

It's fucked up how he doesn't feel guilty for doing this, doesn't feel guilty as he rubs his tip on your wet entrance. Everything about you is soft, the only thing he's afraid to do is to bruise your pretty skin. He can feel your breathe quicken, you heart thumping in anxiety and he smiles at that.

"I'll be... gentle." For now.

The blunt head nudges against your entrance, the slick heat of your hole enveloping him inch by inch as he presses into you slowly. Fuck. It's completely different from a toy. He wished he'd done it sooner, the walls of your inside and the wall of the toy was like night and day. His cock pulses within them, the heat and tightness driving him to the edge of his patience. Hissing in pleasure as your walls clenched around him.

"So cute..."

With that, he leaned down, his lips pressing against you. His tongue invaded your mouth, claiming you, owning you, just as his cock claimed your body. He knows he should let you adjust and wait for you to be ready but hell he'd wait for more than a second. Setting a fast pace, fucking into you with abandon, his hand gripping your hip hard enough to leave bruises-- the one he was dreaded on doing. He panted, his head thrown back in ecstasy. 

If it were that easy, he should've done this sooner. Manipulated that stupid head of yours, your naivety being the one who'd get you in trouble when you were younger.

It was different back then when he was alone. Socializing was unnecessary and draining, didn't have any purpose or value to him. He supposed having one friend is enough, he didn’t have patience for others, especially kids his age who, to him, seemed immature and exhausting.

Then you came along with your bright smile, bold laugh, and endearing quirks. You weren’t stunning or wealthy, and your background was humble—a stark contrast to his world. And yet, every time you called him by that silly nickname you made up, something in his chest stirred, an ache he couldn’t ignore. A foolish girl, treating him as if he were just another friend, another kid to play with.

So why can’t he push you away? You're just like any other kid who wants his attention. So why is it so hard to say no to you?

You're the one driving him crazy. So you only have yourself to blame, this is only happening because you're letting him. You're the one doing this to your self.

He could feel the pleasure building, the pressure in his balls as he neared his release.

"Be my onahole, ok?" He demanded, his voice rough with lust. He needed to hear you say it, needed to know that you understood.

Your mind was swirling, head foggy as the pleasure was starting to mix with the confusion. As your cries grew louder, body writhing beneath him, he felt his own orgasm approaching. He could feel the heat building, the tingling in his toes as his balls drew up tight.

O-Onahole? What's that? What is he talking about?

"Everyday, you'll be my onahole." he panted, his words punctuated by the sound of flesh meeting flesh, the obscene squelch of his cock pumping in and out of your pussy. "I'll save you from that phantom, ok?"

I don't know anything....

"Ok?!" he warns, hips losing their rhythm as his climax approaches, "Shit...!"

"Ah! I-I will! I'll become your onahole!"

With a final, brutal thrust, he buries himself to the hilt inside, his cock pulsing as he empties himself deep in your womb. He holds you tight against his chest, grinding into you to prolong the waves of pleasure.

"Fuck, you're so good for me," He praises breathlessly, peppering your sweat-dampened neck with kisses. "Taking my cock so well, milking me dry. That phantom is gone now that I'm with you."

All you could feel was the light kisses trailing on your neck to your cheek and finally on your lips.

"One more time? I mean you are my onahole now."

***

"Wow, you didn't hold one bit eh?"

His eyes narrowed as he saw him standing on the door with a smug grin.

"What are you doing here? I thought you wouldn't be able to make it?" His tone accessory as he cleans up the aftermath, gently tucking in your passed out figure on the bed.

"So defensive for what?" He chuckles, sauntering as he glance at your peaceful fresh-fucked face. Such a lovely sight. He  licks his lips at that but for now you'd need to get your beauty rest after a rough day. "So, did 'ya like your present?"

"..."

"I'd take your silence as a yes then." Giggling, he places his hand on his shoulder, "I knew you'd like it I mean, we are similar in taste after all."

His jaw tightens before sighing in defeat, "Where did you even get that toy?"

"Oh, some shady website~! I was planning to buy another one but the website mysteriously disappeared!" He exaggerate his movements which earned a grimace from him.

"Shut up, you'll wake her up."

"No, she won't. You made her pass out, how ungentlemanly of you."

"Says you."

"Whatever, I came to ask you a question," His hand drop to his side, his smug smile still on but something sinister behind it, "So, we're going to share, right?"

The answer should've been obvious but it was hard to let the word out of his mouth. Was it pride or possession?

"Yeah..."

"I knew you'd say that."

"But I want her on Mondays."

"Oh brother, why pick the worst day?" He grunts in disappointment.

"Because it's the worst day, I need her on that day."

[godtrauma]

it’s not this serious but people are taking as such, so…

judas was jesus’s right hand man, confidant, and best friend. judas had so much love for jesus that when both the love and hatred for his message and his followed grew even more, he doubted whether or not it was safe for them to keep getting even more attention.

judas identified the danger coming from many different sides, and in his love for jesus and his cause, he asked the hard questions, if they really needed to spread the gospel this far and grow the target on their backs so much.

jesus loved judas so much that despite divine revelation that judas was to betray him, he still treated him with love and respect.

god knew that judas’s love was so great for jesus that is was only he who could have such an impact of betrayal that future generations would continue heed the story of the crucifixion and debate whether judas now resides in heaven or hell, having fulfilled god’s plan.

judas had such love for jesus that after the betrayal that he did not even feel worthy of asking god for forgiveness before hanging himself. i have to wonder about the moments before both of their deaths. the utter loneliness and complete abandonment judas felt. the contemplation of what he condemned his beloved to do.

and jesus, while dying, crying out “father forgive them, for they know not what they do,” perhaps thinking of how much he and judas loved each other, and despite the betrayal, begged god to forgive all those who had wronged them.

this is a relationship we are still dissecting, nearly 2000 years later. phan is a worthy opponentn but we need blasphemy in these trying times

Best RPF Ship - FINAL!

[suksatoru]

flawed and flawless 𝜗𝜚₊˚⊹♡ dabi x you

You never thought Dabi could be insecure.

Dabi, who walked over people like they held the same worth as the dirt beneath his boots. He was so confident—in himself and his abilities, so you could've never expected him to be insecure about anything at all.

Dabi knows his scars aren't appealing. He knows the appearance of charred flesh held together by staples isn't attractive, by any means. He never cared about it before, never even bothered to think about what other people thought of his looks.

The first time he kissed you, Dabi wasn't thinking about how you perceived his scars. He was too swept up in the moment to even consider how you might feel kissing him, too enamored by your taste and glossy eyes as he deflowered you with a tenderness inside him he didn't know he had

Dabi's kissed you many times now. So he doesn't know why it's this particular moment where he's suddenly hesitant to

You're tracing the staples on his chest gently, laying on top of him with your legs intertwined since his mattress wasn't big enough for the two of you to lay beside each other. He's listening quietly to your words, playing with the hem of your shirt before he gently pushes the fabric aside, moving his palm under and inside the garment

Your stomach is so soft. He rubs the mounds of plush skin with his rough fingertips, loving the way you felt beneath him.

He thinks about how different your skin is from the texture of his arms and face. The flesh on him was marred and tainted, and yours is so pure. Something untouched by the cruel world, flawless compared to his flawed one.

He suddenly pulls his hand away from you

Did you like the feeling of his sharp and cold staples rubbing against your skin? He imagined it would be an alarming feeling—the metal wasn't warm and inviting in his eyes. He curls his fist and hesitantly rests it against your clothed back instead. You're still telling him something as he does this, but you quickly realize he was distracted after calling his name and being met with no reply.

He peers down when you stop talking. but then he realizes you're moving to kiss his jaw

And he moves out of the way, effectively dodging your kiss.

He winces when he sees the look on your face, the pout that quickly forms as he begins to panic about how he was supposed to explain why he didn't let you kiss him just now

"Dabi? Why're you making that face?" You mumble, gently cradling his face as he stiffens under your touch. You see the shift in his mood, and gently move your hands away to rest on his chest instead as he sighs

"Nothing. What were you saying?" He mumbles tiredly as you squint up at him, entirely unconvinced by his words.

"It's not important. Tell me what's wrong." You frown, not moving your hands to comfort him as you realized he wasn't reciprocating your touch for some reason

Dabi stares at you. You stare back. He thinks he's the luckiest man in the world to have you love him. You just...understand. He didn't think he deserved to know you, let alone love you. But here you were, patiently loving him.

"Do you like touching me? I mean, is it not fucking uncomfortable for these baby fingers?" He chuckles dryly, grabbing hold of you as he feels your palm in his. Carefully, he intertwines his fingers with yours. He almost cringes at the contrast of the feeling of his wrist resting against yours as he sighs, before pulling away.

He's staring at the ceiling, not meeting your eyes as you're quite literally stunned into silence. The fan hums quietly, filling the silence as you stare up at him. You suddenly realize what he was trying to say, and your soft voice snaps Dabi out of his train of unwelcomed thoughts

"Dabi."

He looks down, but he has to physically swallow the lump in his throat when he sees your face. He can't respond because he knows his voice will come out shaky and tremble no matter how hard he tries not to let it

"I love you, okay? I don't...I never thought you were hard to touch. You're perfect. There isn't a single thing I'd change about you."

He doesn't know why he feels like crying. His throat feels like its closed, and his eyes burn as his hand returns back to your stomach. He runs his hands all over your body, desperately trying to pull you infinitely closer to him as he lets out a shuddering breath

"I love you too, sweetheart. So damn much." He croaks, his voice strained with so much raw emotion that you can't help but lean into his touch and swipe at the stray blood that trickles down his cheek from his eye

"You should sleep. I'm right here, kay? And when you wake up, we can make those pancakes...the ones with faces on them." You muse, pressing a gentle kiss onto his lips that he desperately reciprocates

He nods his head before tucking it into the space between your shoulder and neck, murmuring your name before his breathing slowly begins to even out

Dabi falls asleep before you. At least, you thought he had fallen asleep. That's the only reason you started to gently kiss across his jaw, just to try and soothe him as he slept. He once told you he loved when you kissed his jaw, saying something about how the feeling was a nice one

His grip on you tightens just the slightest bit. Normally, his heart beat would increase whenever you kissed him. Sometimes it sped up at the mere thought of you—but these kisses didn't have that effect on him. Mainly because they were slowing his heart, instead. Calming him. Grounding him.

He fell asleep with your skin pressed against his, both of you content. He wanted to feel you closer, so he pressed his cheek against yours without fear that his staples or scars would be uncomfortable for you. He knew they wouldn't—knew they couldn't with how you yourself leaned into him the same way he leaned into you, like a flower dipping towards the sun for warmth.

[randombush3]

te hacemos falta

alexia putellas x reader

prologue, que te quiero, busco lo de antes

summary: you wake up but you're not sure where

words: 4715

content warnings: bit of smut

notes: the end was written way before the beginning. i couldn't decide what to do with this for a while but it came to me in the shower earlier today so here we are, finally completed

there will have to be more parts to this because i'm not done yet 🙄

The duvet falls to the floor. 

Swathes of tanned skin spread over your smooth legs, encapsulating, suffocating. It’s good though, so good. And it’s exploration of somewhere familiar, crevasses that she knows, divots that you wish you did. Dimples where muscle tenses and relaxes and veins that throb at the sight of… this. Oh, how she has missed this. 

There’s a hunger in her eyes – desperate, ready. Her tongue is warm and wet as it slides down the valley of your breasts and your stomach and the apex of your thighs. She’s moaning, you’re moaning. It’s a cacophony of sound and pleasure and this might kill you, might just end it all, because is this what it used to be like? Blazing, fiery, passionate sex? 

She sucks and bites and kisses and you’ve never been at anyone’s mercy quite like how you are at hers, back arching, legs clamping tightly until blonde hair and stars are all you can see. Her breath sears and your skin must be branded: ‘Alexia, Alexia, Alexia’ it must say. The sound of your heartbeat pounds in your ears, louder than her name falling from your lips, louder than her appreciation that you are here and doing this. 

It’s better than it ever has been. And it’s building. Climbing, growing more intense. Her tongue swirls your clit and it’s almost enough, your hands gripping the sheets as though that will anchor you on your ascent to Heaven. You might be screaming. She’s making you scream. 

Your stomach drops as you go soaring through the sky. And then it’s gone.

“It’s a sex dream.” You look up, ignoring the heat of your cheeks, trying to remind yourself that you’re allowed to feel like this in therapy. “The same one, right?” 

“I wake up sweating.” 

Your therapist nods, her expression neutral and free of judgement, pen poised on her knee as she waits for your confession to settle, really making you sit in it. Then, she speaks, measured tone like always, “And when you wake up, what’s the first thing you feel?” 

Her question is gentle but purposeful. She is a deliberate woman. 

“Embarrassment, mostly.” She doesn’t quite buy it. “Sometimes I… get off? After?” 

“Are you asking me?” 

“It’s uncomfortable,” you fire back, defensively. “She’s in the next room to me. My daughter is in the same flat. I’m acting like a horny teenager.” 

“Sex is biological. Your body was accustomed to the regular hormone release, a stable sex life. You’re young and you were both in high-stress professions. Is it so absurd for you to crave it?” You shake your head, although her rhetoric is clear. “And as you’ve already said, you’re attracted to Alexia, memories or not.” 

“I’m not blind,” you protest. (Is it really a protest?) 

Your therapist nods again, considering your words with slight amusement. “Not blind,” she repeats. She inhales. “What about the feelings that come with that attraction? Are you angry with yourself for still wanting her, even if the memories aren’t there?” 

The leather sofa creaks as you shift in your seat. You briefly wonder how many people she has made want to die of discomfort in this office, but she’s pretty good, you’ll give her that. “It’s not anger,” you murmur, the tightness in your chest still constricting in its nameless fashion. “It’s… guilt, maybe? Frustration? She looks at me like I’m supposed to remember, like I’m supposed to love her the way she clearly still loves me. And I want to. God, I want to. But I feel like I’m trying to love a stranger.” 

She leans forwards slightly, eyes deep and gentle, subtly glancing at the clock above the door before refocusing on your face. “You said you still feel attracted to her. That’s not nothing. Desire can be a bridge – it is for many relationships.” 

You sigh, rubbing at your temples. Months have dulled the ache of your head, the physical pain of the accident now almost gone, but nothing seems to have stopped your insides from howling in anguish. It echoes in your emptiness. You’re not sure if that makes it worse. “It feels hollow. We wouldn’t have fucked for a while, not if I had Amaia – she would’ve been so young.” The clock ticks over another minute. “And she deserves more than just me physically. It would be failing. Her. Amaia.” The crack of your voice betrays the steadiness of your tone. 

“She’s not asking for perfection,” your therapist says carefully. “She’s asking for effort, for honest. And if she didn’t believe in you, she’d have left, wouldn’t she?” 

“She wouldn’t do that.” 

“She wouldn’t do that to you,” she corrects. 

That merits a pause. It’s true, probably. When you have concocted some kind of response, you shuffle your legs so that they are crossed, one over the other – a pose Alexia had claimed to be the signpost of being ‘lawyered’, shivering as she’d said it. “Every moment we try to connect, I mess it up. She’ll talk about something we did, some moment that was important to us, and I just sit there. Blank. It is only a matter of time until she gets fed up and leaves. She’s surely just patient.” 

“From what you have told me about Alexia, she is not a patient person,” she rebukes. The harshness of her voice is not explicit, more like the piercing shot of a pistol equipped with a silencer. It makes good contact. “Have you told her how this feels for you?” 

You don’t reply. 

“Alexia might be holding onto the version of you from before the accident, the person she remembers,” your therapist continues. “But she’s also here, now, with this version of you. That tells me she’s willing to rebuild, even if it’s from the ground up.” 

Fuck. “You have a point.” 

She smirks. “Of course I do.” 

…

Alexia sits at the kitchen table with a mug of coffee clasped tightly in her hands. The hum of the fridge does nothing to mask the rustling of your sheets, nor the music Amaia thinks is too quiet to be heard. No one is asleep, yet no one is together. She wants to scream. 

Her coffee has long since cooled, her last sip maybe even hours ago. Time is no longer real. Time has fucked her over and she’s really renounced it. 

The decorations are starting to peel their way off, the tree going brown, the batteries in the lights dying. Maybe the horror of Christmas will also be lost, and maybe that’s for the best; awkward gifts, dinners where inside jokes left you on the outside, alcohol doing nothing to jog your memories or ease you into making new ones. Amaia’s birthday also carried that same awkwardness, worse at night, when she had asked to be cuddled and you’d frozen the moment she had fallen asleep on you. 

Nights suck. 

Nights leave space for Alexia to remember everything you don’t, cold in a bed that isn’t hers, with no one there to hold her as tears spill out and make her feel fucking pathetic. She pretends not to notice, but Mapi’s texts get later and later each day, as though she has caught on to the worsening bags under her captain’s eyes and the dark swirl of her mind. 

And at night, under the covers, all Alexia can do is picture you. 

She’d felt the shift when you had come back from Bilbao. She’d seen your body tense – no stranger to its signals. It’s been a waiting game ever since. 

She suspects it has something to do with Amaia. Your responsibility is unfaltering, even if you seem to not recognise it, and it is reminiscent of the first time round, when Alexia had been refused sleepovers and late nights, working with quick makeouts in daylight and steamy kisses in the five minutes you’d allow her to pull over for on your way back home. “My daughter needs me more than you do,” you’d joke, batting her hands away, grinning at the whines she’d let out. “And someone needs to teach you how to wait.”

“So many women would jump at the chance to sleep with me,” would be her instantaneous response. She’d say it to your back, because you’d already be on your way out. 

Sex shouldn’t be on Alexia’s mind like this. She felt guilty about it then, and she feels even guiltier about it now. 

You’re attractive. Beautiful. Intelligent. You’re more than the sound you make when she’s pressed inside you just right. Or the swears you hiss when you’re returning the favour. 

You’re the words you say when you’re trying not to let Amaia down: careful, caring. And the look of support when Alexia is watching nothing ring a bell and wanting to die because of it. 

And you’re still you, if not set on different tracks with different thoughts and feelings and perspectives. 

You are still the woman she loves – which she knows and clings onto. And you’re braver than she is, because she would not have survived this situation. 

Alexia pictures you again, when she finally gets herself into bed, hand wandering down her sculpted body, jerking away at the slightest sound like she is not allowed to be doing this. She does it anyway. 

It’s a relief, a fleeting escape, and the only thing that doesn’t make her feel so fucking hollow. Briefly, the world hasn’t ended. Her fingers find familiar paths, mapped out by yours as she’d melt beneath your touch, and, for a moment, it isn’t her hand. It passes, and the pleasure is only a ghost of what it once was. 

She tries again. 

Her breath hitches as her mind fills with memories – your face, your voice, the sparks beneath her fingertips, the heat between the two of you. A lump grows in her throat. She has to stop. 

A part of her wants to give in completely, to let the tension in her body break, to seize the satisfaction that’s right in front of her. But another part of her recoils. Guilt settles, a weight on her chest, as she thinks of your blank stare. 

She pulls her hand away, her body trembling. She feels pathetic. This isn’t what it used to be. Love is too distant, too faded. 

And there’s the other thing. What she doesn’t want to admit. 

She can’t do it alone anymore. 

She rolls over and buries her face in the pillow. This might be her breaking point. Where the fuck does she go from here?

…

To establish a sense of normalcy when your physical injuries finally get written off by your doctor, your therapist suggests you take Amaia to a football match. Obviously Alexia’s match. WIth her tickets. And her mother. 

Although Amaia looks like you, there is so much of Alexia in her. Her enthusiasm, her dedication, and… her love for football. You imagine they must have killed you with their obsession with kicking a ball into a net. They tend to not talk about it now, most family dinners casting a glance backwards to catch you up about the last decade. 

She is radiating excitement beside you as you take your seats. 

The stadium roars as fans pour in, a sea of blaugrana that your daughter slips into, donning her jersey with pride. You wince a bit at the sight, but Amaia is quick to whisper that she doesn’t wear it when Barça plays Bilbao. She speaks with such familiarity. She hardly lets on that her mother doesn’t know who she is. 

Alexia’s own mother, Eli, is a very nice woman. You once employed her, which is how you and Alexia met. You get why she was a good fit – wise, reliable, kind. You also get why she managed to set you up with her daughter. Eli can apparently see right through you. 

Thankfully, she says nothing during the match, the buffer of Amaia actually working. 

You had glanced at the news before, stuff with Alexia’s name in it always catching your attention, and, of course, you’d admired a few photos. But it doesn’t compare to the real thing. 

Since September, Alexia has fumbled her way around you, cautious and unsure. On the pitch, she is the opposite. Determined, commanding, majestic and she swerves and dribbles and takes out players left, right, and centre. She seems to read the future, apprehending attacks, anticipating defensive lines and destroying them before they can even be formed. This passion, this intensity… this is the woman you must have fallen in love with. You’ve been getting to know a shell of her.

You get a lot of things now. (You should’ve let your therapist convince you to attend a match way sooner.)

The final whistle blows and you feel transformed. Not reformed, but, rather, made anew. A butterfly emerging from its cocoon. 

Okay. No. Maybe you’re getting ahead of yourself. 

But right now, as a sweaty Alexia jumps the barrier and sweeps Amaia into her arms effortlessly, you are certainly less resistant to experiencing your recurring dream again. Something guilty ebbs and flows at the back of your mind, but if it were the ocean, it would very much be low tide. 

Her eyes are fixed on you as Amaia recounts the match with her own analysis like a mini-manager ready to sit down and review the footage. Her mother clears her throat once silence settles between the four of you. 

“Mama, we’re getting dinner,” comes the next spoken sentence. Not from Eli. 

You blink.

“Alexia,” Amaia repeats, tugging her arm. “Dinner.” 

“Zer esan duzu?” you mutter under your breath, accessing the private form of communication you have with your daughter like it is the Washington-to-Moscow hotline. It’s often too constrictive, too close, to Amaia for comfort – you’re not quite there yet, no matter how much effort you put into trying to bond with her. 

You’re not dignified by a response, instead met with an uninterested eye-roll (the cheek!) and commotion as everyone starts to move. Well, half the party. Eli kindly lets Amaia drag her away. 

“Did you enjoy the match?” Alexia asks awkwardly, waiting for you to pick your bag up from the concrete floor. She stops herself from getting it for you when you grimace, still getting used to the tightness that will always remain in your ribs. She knows you’d hate that.

“I don’t like football,” you say, because her hair is wet and falling over her face, and her neck is flushed, and her kit is sticking to her in a very flattering way. And you walk past her because you’re probably not going to get this relationship back. 

Your therapist does most of the talking in the next session. Internally, she is screaming. 

…

Sticky glue on clean fingers. Amaia grimaces. She prefers the mess of mud to glitter and paint, but the black pages of the scrapbook are almost full and her end goal makes it worth it. 

Alexia asks what she does in her room that keeps her so quiet, her voice laced with curiosity and that same exhaustion she hasn’t been able to shed since the accident. Alexia, with no answer given, probably assumes it’s reading, or homework, or some other thing that elevates her to saintly status – Oh, Amaia, aren’t you just so special. 

Special girls wouldn’t have been forgotten by their mothers… No. Amaia believes she should not digress. 

The scrapbook is her cure. Or at least, what she has convinced herself will help you, because she is a little girl and what would she know about ground-breaking neurological treatments and the effectiveness of a good psychiatrist? She sees the appointments listed in the calendar Alexia keeps on the dining table – an illicit activity only undertaken when no one seems to be ready to take her to training and she worries she has gotten the time incorrect – but they are just abbreviations and addresses to her. Pictures are real. Pictures cannot be cancelled or argued about or scheduled on top of school concerts and meetings with her concerned teachers.

It was difficult at first, finding the pictures. There were only so many on the iPad you let her borrow – then subsequently forgot about and allowed her to claim. She’d asked Eli for help (Eli would never reveal her secret mission), who told her about something called a disposable camera and then proceeded to go off on a tangent, showing photos of Alexia when she was a baby. But, eventually, when photo-Alexia had reached adulthood, Eli agreed to participate and the next time they convened, she had an envelope of at least three more pages’ worth of material. 

And so they got to work. 

Pages upon pages were slowly decorated with lost memories. Birthdays, holidays, first-times, last-times. If there was a photo of it, in it went. Afternoons in Eli’s kitchen were spent with gel pens and scissors, mornings before school dwindling in length as nights got later and alarms began to be snoozed.

You don’t know what to say when one day, red-cheeked from the exhaustion of the extra goalie sessions, Amaia barrels into the car with exciting news. You’ve been privy to this news, you think, because the coaches have already messaged you about trial dates for better teams (teams that wear blaugrana, to Alexia’s satisfaction), even if the Infantil-Cadet begins at the age of twelve. “I’m so proud of you, txiki,” you begin, before Amaia can speak, your joy bursting at the seams, barely contained in your voice. Affection for her has certainly been something you’ve mustered, even if it has grown from a seed all over again. She is not hard to love. “Alexia has been speaking to Cata and she is going to find time to give you some tips! The girls will be older and you’ll have to work with more powerful shots, more precision.” You’d had a conversation with your footballer (things are still awkward but Amaia is in no-man’s-land and requires civility), who had been monitoring this inevitable progression in Amaia’s life and already had an argument prepared for why she should be allowed to trial. Maybe in another universe, you would have said no. “Don’t worry. I’m sure it won’t be too much of a challenge for you.” 

You turn to watch for Amaia’s reaction, expecting elation or nervousness or something like that. Instead, you are met with confusion. “What’s wrong?” There’s nothing else to ask. 

“That wasn’t my news,” she states. The glimmer in her eyes – your father’s eyes – illuminates the cracks in her serious expression. “You’re going to like my news more, Amatxu. It’s not to do with football. You don’t even like football.” 

“I like football,” you instantly argue, indignantly mentioning Athletic Bilbao’s recent victory. 

“You didn’t before.” She’s somewhat insistent. She reminds you of Alexia, the way her smile is barely contained, her amusement too obvious, too profound. “When we used to go to Alexia’s matches, you’d just stare at her. And I would say ‘Amatxu, the ball is on the right wing’, and you’d still be watching her.” 

“I don’t like football.” 

“You like it when Alexia’s playing.” 

You huff in annoyance. You’ve been… lawyered? By a child. “Tell me your news, Ami.” 

“You stopped calling me that,” she points out.

“Alexia told me you like being called that.” Or, rather, implied it. 

“By my mum.” 

“I’m your mum.” Amaia looks almost prepared to disagree, which stings but in a familiar way that your therapist tells you is a part of healing. Therapy might still be a scam. “Tell me your news, Amaia.” 

“I like Ami.” The car may swerve a little, but then you see darkness and hear screaming and your hands are tightly gripping the wheel again. “My news! Yes, my news. I have a present for you. I’ve been waiting to give it to you for a long time.” 

That’s all you get until you arrive home. 

Alexia is making dinner, the smell of tomatoes and garlic wafting down the hallway as the lift doors swoosh open. She’s listening to music – happy music – and there are rhythmic thuds against the floor. You’re surprised Alexia knows how to dance. 

Her hips sway at the stove, grey joggers outlining toned legs and… Your daughter is right beside you. You blink and hope those thoughts disappear. 

“Ami!” Alexia exclaims at the telltale sound of pitter-pattering. The spoon drops from her hand, stirring be damned, as she swipes the girl into a hug, kissing the top of her head. “How was training?” 

“Seré la nova portera del Barça.” The excitement is infectious as Alexia lifts her slightly off the ground with the force of her hug. It’s immediately warmer, the room filled now that they are together. You try to feel included. The sight momentarily plucks a string somewhere deep inside of you, but before it vibrates, Amaia throws a glance back at you, her cheeky smirk a reminder that she is still hogging her news. 

Alexia sets Amaia down gently, wiping her hands on the teatowel slung over her broad shoulders. “What’s that face for?” she asks, raising a curious brow as the girl slips out her grasp and scurries towards the dining table, schoolbag in tow. 

You linger by the worktop, trying to work past the need to hide from Alexia and failing miserably. Amaia unpacks her bag – ludicrously capacious and stuffed to the brim with art supplies that make you question why you are paying school fees. “I’ve been working on something,” she announces, her voice just shy of a triumphant proclamation. Out comes a spiral-bound book, decorated like a unicorn ate a rainbow and then had diarrhoea. She’s eleven, you suppose. 

Then she opens the book and you regret judging it by its cover. 

She flips past pages filled with images that hitch your breath. Holidays you don’t remember. Birthdays lost to the void that exists between then and now. 

“What is this?” you ask softly, stepping closer despite yourself.

Amaia looks up at you, her expression both shy and proud. “It’s for you.” 

The slosh of sauce being stirred stops abruptly. You try not to look, but Alexia is leaning towards the table for a better view, bottom lip between her teeth as her eyes deepen and her chest grows heavier.

Undeterred by the silence, Amaia continues fervently, “I’ve been making it for months.” She pulls the scrapbook close to her chest for a moment, before offering it to you with both hands, glitter floating to the floor. “It’s so you won’t forget anything anymore.”

You freeze. The walls are touching your sides, too small. Alexia is watching you for your reaction. “Forget?” you echo faintly, hands trembling as they reach for the book. 

Amaia tilts her head, innocence piercing and painful. “Like how you forgot my birthday. Or, like, didn’t know it was.” 

The air is knocked clean out of your lungs. For a moment, you can’t move. You can’t breathe. Alexia’s eyes dart between the two of you, her jaw tightening as she grips the worktop. You know she wants to jump in, wants to soften the blow, but she doesn’t. Not yet. 

Amaia keeps going, her voice steadily reporting shortcomings like bombs she doesn’t know can kill. “I know you didn’t mean to. And I know that you don’t remember things because you hit your head really badly. So you don’t remember my first football practice, or when we used to go to the beach. So… I made this!” 

She flips the pages for you, her tiny fingers smudged with gel pen ink. “Here’s the picture from when we went to New Zealand and Alexia won the world cup.” You’ve seen that one before. She turns the page, “And this,” a small, faded photograph with fridge-worn edges, “is from when I won my first school race. This is in London, see?” She’s grinning widely, front tooth missing, a green field behind her with a grey sky that is certainly not Barcelona. 

Your throat tightens. You can’t look away from the book, each page a kaleidoscope of colours and slipped-away moments. Drowned memories that have sunken into a trench of blackness – still there, just unrecoverable. “Amaia…” Your voice cracks. You might break.

Alexia moves quietly, reaching a hand out to your back before steadying it centimetres away. Her warmth is felt only for a second before she remembers herself and moves away. “This is what you’ve been doing,” she deduces, her surprise comforting. For once, you were not the only one in the dark. 

Amaia beams but she is not looking at Alexia. “I told you you’d like it,” she says. You’ve not given your opinion yet. “Now you’ll never forget again, not even if you want to.”

Silence presses down on the room, save for the gentle bubbling of the tomato sauce on the stove. You clutch the scrapbook tightly, afraid that dropping it will send the wrong message. It’s not perfectly made – far from it. The edges are uneven, the colour clashing in some places, the glue smeared in translucent stains past photos. But it’s beautiful. It's yours, from Amaia. It is her love for you. 

Tears pinch in your eyes. “I don’t deserve this,” you whisper, the words slipping out before you can stop them. 

Amaia frowns, her brows knitting together in confusion. “Of course you do. Zu zara nire ama.”

Your skin bristles as Alexia moves past you, hand resting on the worktop. “You do,” she agrees. She seems to want to say more, but Amaia, satisfied with her convincing, turns back to the scrapbook, taking it from your hands and opening it to the very last page. 

“This one’s my favourite.” 

The final page is a drawing, not a photograph. It’s sketched carefully, although a little garishly done in neon green, but it’s unmistakable. Three figures stand together, arms linked. Surrounding them are words (Catalan words, you think) and images. Alexia’s hand presses harder into the worktop.

“Alexia says Barça is the best team in the world,” Amaia starts smugly, “but she’s not right.” A grunt of disagreement comes from the woman beside you, but she allows the girl to continue. “We are.” 

The words fall from her lips like a statistic, indisputable yet hard to believe. 

“We’re like a football team, to help Alexia understand,” she then says with a smirk. “Badakit ez duzula gehiago behar, Ama. Oso adimentsua zara.” 

“I’m not stupid,” grumbles Alexia. 

She’s ignored. “You are the attack, Ama. You’re, like, the glamourous one, the one everyone wants to be like, with glory and success and shiny trophies.” You’ve seen Alexia’s trophies, but you don’t argue, assuming it will be pointless when your daughter can be so stubborn. “And then Alexia is in the middle. Attack and defence are a pair, but it’s not right to have them on a pitch without the midfield. It’s never as seamless. The team would be incomplete.” You pause to consider if Alexia is ever afraid of being loved by Amaia. She’d have had no reason to be. “Of course, I am in goal. Nothing slips through me, even if it’s really scary and the ball is coming fast. I make sure we don’t lose.” 

Your breath catches. Something inside you shifts, not the fragments left by Alexia’s football match a few weeks ago, but a new part of this new life. A root in fertile soil. “Thank you,” you murmur, pulling Amaia into a tight hug. She tenses at first, almost shocked by it, but then she is relaxing and hugging you back, face buried in your clothes as though it is what coming home feels like. “I love it. I love you.” 

Alexia watches, her expression softening as she steps back towards the stove. “Dinner’s almost ready,” she announces, giving you both a moment to breathe. 

Amaia pulls back, her grin wide and triumphant. “I told you you’d like my news.” She pauses, glancing slyly at Alexia. “Much better than football, right?” 

The woman’s laugh is warm and free. You want to bottle it. “Careful, nena. You’re about to lose your biggest cheerleader.” 

“Never!” shouts Amaia, before leaning back into you. And for the first time since the accident, part of you is at home. 

[ultraericthered]

#i got to screen Wish before it released during a school trip and let me tell you something #even though we noticed the glaring problems with that movie immediately #i also noticed something i dont think many others did at that time #there was so much talent and potential being held back. if you read closely you can pick up on a cry for help from the creatives behind it #i want to elaborate but i think if you know. you know #and if you don't.. this post does a good job of shining a light on a small part of that cry for you #despite its many issues i think i still liked Wish. Not because i think it was a good movie but bc i think it could have been a great one had circumstances been different. #my heart goes out to those who put their souls and everything they had into that movie and others in similar situations #some of the creators had given a small talk before the screening and to me they seemed very emotional about it #i think what many people forget is that nobody can see a project's flaws better than the people who worked on it #but what they also see and you can't is everything more it was meant to be #please remember that the core of many issues in any project is that the people with the talent often do not have power to call the shots

Yes, all of that. And I find it ironic that the gifed scene is the one that got people saying "Hey, King Magnifico's not really much of a villain, he's got a good point! He's just upholding his part of a social contract with his citizenry and doing what he, as king, needs to do to protect their wishes but also protect Rosas by ruling out granting any wishes that might backfire and have dangerous repercussions for the kingdom and the lives of the people! Asha's just an ignorant spoiled brat for demanding anything more of him! Magnifico Did Nothing Wrong!" So when you take that position on what you're being shown by the story and not scratching the surface to look at what Magnifico is doing in-universe by not giving back the wishes he knows he will not grant and knows the people who gave them to him cannot remember and what the out-of-universe subtext of this is, you're siding with the Disney Corporate Executive Overlords. You're siding with Bob Iger's "they're not being realistic with their expectations" argument. You're siding with Chapek and Iger's practices done under excuses like "It doesn't fit the Disney brand", "mass appeal stories over personal ones", "people don't want to go and pay to see movies with girly princess titles", etc. You're siding with their practices of dumping content straight to streaming (or onto Disney+ not too long after they've hit theaters or TV) even when that actually limits profits that the actual creative teams can make from their own work, of tampering with the artists visions and how the finished product turns out and then punishing those artists if it doesn't turn out well, and of ignoring ideas for original creations in favor of contiunally milking their popular (and profitable) existing IPs. You're siding with people who make up an entire entity that say loudly to the faces of all those who put in the work, the skills, the talent, the passion and dedication to create art and content they feel people deserve to enjoy, in the forms they deserve to enjoy them "I decide what everyone deserves!"

Capitalism errodes into a force for human evil when the people at the top prove susceptible to three things in excess beyond mere greed and self-interest: unchecked power, irresponsibility, and indecency. King Magnifico is allegorical for that evil, with a bit of a communist dictator angle to him too since that's the end point of those exact same excesses and extremes for socialism. He's a major problematic fave for all kinds of reasons, but anyone who wants to tell me he's a good guy can kindly GTFO.

Wish (2023) dir. Fawn Veerasunthorn, Chris Buck

hey do you think the overworked creatives about to go on strike are trying to tell us something

article sources under the cut

Mattson, Kelcie. "How Disney Almost Killed 'Nimona.'" Collider, January 2 2024.

Earl, William. "Shelving Batgirl Was the Right Decision, Says New DC Studios Head Peter Safran: 'It Would Have Hurt DC.'" Variety, January 31 2023

Couch, Aaron. "Warner Bros. Reverses Course on 'Coyote vs. Acme' After Filmmakers Rebel." The Hollywood Reporter, November 13 2023.

Ridgely, Charlie. "Scoob! Sequel Director Revealed Film Was 'Very Close' to Completion Before HBO Max Cancellation." comicbook.com, August 2 2022.

Clark, Travis. "Staffers at the animation studio Blue Sky say it's 'heartbreaking' that Disney canceled its final movie, 'Nimona.'" Business Insider, February 18, 2021.

Harrison, Mark. "Why was the Batgirl movie cancelled?" Yahoo! Entertainment, January 31 2024.

Amidi, Amid. "Warner Bros. Shelves Fully-Completed 'Coyote Vs. Acme' For Tax Write-Off." Cartoon Brew, November 9 2023.

Lee, Alex. "Why Netflix keeps cancelling your favourite shows after two seasons." Wired UK, September 28 2020.

Tyrrell, Gary. "We All Knew It Was Coming." fleen.com, February 10 2021.

"Warner Bros. Reverses Course on ‘Coyote vs. Acme’ After Filmmakers Rebel." see: 3.

Bergeson, Samantha. "Warner Bros. Will Let 'Coyote Vs. Acme' Filmmakers Shop Movie to Other Distributors." IndieWire, November 13 2023.

Strapagiel, Lauren. "Disney's First Feature Animated Movie With Queer Leads May Never Be Released." BuzzfeedNews, February 24 2021.

"We All Knew It Was Coming." see: 9

@/scottderrickson. "I think it’s absolute bullshit that a studio can and does shelve the creative work of hundreds of people for a fucking tax break." Twitter, 10 Nov. 2023, 4:52 p.m..

[innerfare]

Teasing or Overstimulating - Part 2

Summary: Do they tease you or overstimulate you?

Characters: Ace, Sabo, Law, Kid

Genre: pure smut

CW: NSFW // oral sex, shameless dirty talk, sex toys, unprotected sex, service dom Ace, sadistic Sabo, daddy dom Law, feral Kid

——— 

Ace: 

Not only is he going to overstimulate you, you’re going to thank him for it. He wishes those weren’t the rules- really, he knows how hard it is for you, he can see you struggling to get the words out- but you have to be a good girl and thank him. Really, it’s for your own good. He knows your pussy is his, and he takes that responsibility seriously, and part of that is ensuring you have good manners when he’s inhaling your scent and tonguing your overstimulated clit, even if his manners went right out the window the second he got you out of your panties. 

“It’s my fucking pussy, and I’m gonna do whatever the fuck I want with it. Isn’t that right? Don’t say yeah, say yes sir.” 

He’s a service dom, which means he’s already made you cum by the time he’s pulling out his thick, veiny cock. With the taste of your cunt still on his lips, he’ll decide whether you need to be fucked slowly in missionary or bent over and railed mercilessly while he slaps your ass, and it’s lucky he does, because by the time he’s pushing that cock into you, you can barely string together a coherent thought.  

“I know you’re tired, but you still have to say thank you, sir. That’s my good fucking girl. Just give me one more orgasm, and I’ll let you take my load.”

Sabo: 

He’s both a kinky little fucker and a bit of a sadist, which means he teases the hell out of you. He’ll tease you until you’re blue in the face, crying because you just need to cum so bad but you can’t reach your clit in your restraints, and then he’ll tease you a little more, twisting your aching nipples with a wicked grin and pointing out how wet you are. 

“Come on, sweetheart. I haven’t even touched your clit yet.”

He’s notorious for pulling you around a corner or into a supply closet, shoving his long fingers into your panties, working you to the edge of orgasm, and making you suck his fingers clean before leaving you to recover, knowing full well you’ll jump him as soon as you can get him alone- not that he’ll be all that accommodating when you do. He also makes good use of the remote control vibrator he purchased, to the point that half of the RA thinks you have IBS for all the times you tense up and scurry out of a room. 

But for all the times he does it on purpose, there are other times he’s not even aware that he’s doing it. He gets so pussy drunk with his head between your legs that he’s barely cognizant of your pleas. He just knows that your orgasm is the best part, and he wants to hold out as long as possible, because he swears your pussy tastes better when you’re sweating and panting. After slowly tonguing your clit for what feels like hours, stopping just short of letting you orgasm several times, he’ll drag his head up and make eye contact, only to realize just how long he’s been torturing you. 

“I’m sorry sweetheart, I lost track of time. I’ll make it better, I promise.” 

Law: 

Yes, he teases you, but only because you deserve it, annoying brat that you are. You are, after all, teasing him constantly- the sway of your hips, the way you bend over in front of him, the knowing smile you give him when no one else is looking. What is a man to do if not punish you for it? And if you’re a nuisance about it, mouthing off and talking back even as your pussy aches for his cock, even better.  

“If only the others knew what an impudent little brat you are, how many spankings it takes from your Captain to keep you in line, how wet it makes you.”  

His favorite is to tie you up, face down. He’ll make you count out loud as he spanks you, only stopping when you finally admit that you deserve it, and then he’ll run his nose through your slit, relishing how wet you are and inhaling your scent but refusing to give you any relief until you say, “please, daddy,” enough times. And when he does finally probe your clit with his tongue, he’s just as stingy with the pleasure he gives you. 

“You know what you have to say if you want to cum.” 

If you’ve been extra bad, he’ll punish you with a vibrator, keeping it on its lowest setting and only ramping up the power when you’ve broken down and begged him to do it, shoving his cock into your dripping cunt to fuck you through your orgasm. 

Kid: 

Kid’s philosophy in life is simple: more is more. And that applies to your sex life, most definitely. He has an insanely high sex drive and turns into an absolute fiend if he doesn’t get off everyday, and him getting off require you getting off, too, which means you’re in an almost constant state of overstimulation as this man’s cute little fuck bunny. Since you met him, you can’t remember a single day that he left your clit alone. 

“I don’t care if you still have my cum in you from last time, you’re gonna take some more. We both know you’ll cum when I give it to you.” 

Usually attacks you like a feral dog, squeezing your face in his powerful hand until you slap him away, chewing your nipples raw, jamming his tongue into your cunt and a finger or two up your ass, manhandling you however he pleases. And he doesn’t shut up the entire time, either, goading you, making fun of you, even laughing at and making fun of you when you cum. 

“How the hell did you get off before you had me to make you cum, huh? Poor thing, you’re desperate for it.” 

Has tied you up and left you with a vibrator between your legs several times, and on these occasions, didn’t come back and cuddle you. No, he came back and fucked you like he’d never see you again, twisting you up like a pretzel and pushing his entire, massive cock into your tight little hole until it’s as sore as your clit. He’s had Killer and even Heat and Wire hold a vibrator to your clit before because you’re so cute when you cum he just has to share (though fucking you is his privilege). 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[reignpage]

Vice President!Sukuna

Quisling: crumbling defences

Contents: just a little insight into a day with modern au!sukuna and his president, there's cursing, slight sexual language (very minor), mostly fluff, a little angsty

“Having conducted semi-structured interviews with a substantial number of students and staff across all departments,” you prattle on, standing on the stage of Conference 3 in front of the other members of the Student Council and key senior members of faculty, “our research led us to conclude that security around campus could be improved in various ways, beginning with installing more lamp posts in certain areas, such as around the green house, which as you know has been targeted by the campus vandal informally known as ‘Cursed Womb’.” 

These meetings are always so tedious, and they last far longer than they should, always overrunning for reasons that escape you every time. As you summarise the weeks and weeks worth of work you’ve been doing into a short, snazzy powerpoint presentation, you can’t help but think about the mountain of paperwork waiting for you back in your room, covering the entire surface area of the desk until you’ve actually had to move onto your bed to work. 

It’s an irritating stain in your otherwise clean and tidy room; you aren’t a messy person. Everything has a place and everything is in its place. But the class action against Professor Mahito has overtaken your life. When you’re not talking to the lawyers Sukuna has hired, you’re hosting support sessions with the other victims or writing up notes on every meeting, jotting down times and collecting as much evidence as possible.

“Y/n, if I may interject,” a shrill voice interrupts you, “are you suggesting that the disruptive behaviour of a deranged individual can actually be discouraged with a few light bulbs.”

Light laughter breaks out. 

Your left eye twitches. 

Some of the trustees and senior lecturers with tenure, and decades of research upholding Eden’s reputation, have been undermining you. They interrupt, disregard, and scoff at your suggestions. And you know it isn’t because your work is insubstantial or lacking in anyway at all. The simple truth is, they are friends with Mahito, and you are now their enemy. 

When he slid his hand up your thigh during a one-to-one support session over time management, you could only shift uncomfortably, and clear your throat. You hadn’t said no, is Mahito’s rebuttal to the skeleton argument your team had sent to the courts. And now his other professor friends have been holding it over your head. 

You didn’t say no. 

That mistake is haunting you. 

“Professor Jiro, respectfully,’ a pink-haired guy in the corner drawls, ‘research displays that crime rates decreases by a significant amount after increased visibility. It does, in fact, discourage criminal behaviour. And if you let my president continue, she’ll tell you all about how lamp posts are just one part of her overall plan to tackle crime on campus.”

He’s leaning back in his chair, a pen dancing fluidly between his fingers to a subconscious rhythm, spinning and pivoting effortlessly with a flick of his wrists. A habit of his when he gets restless and irritated. 

You hate that you know that. 

Silence befalls the conference room once more. 

You clear your throat and gesture to the projected slide behind you. “We should install lamp posts across campus, especially through the field behind the Psychology department which many students have reported feeling uncomfortable crossing to get to the Southside Halls at night.”

And the presentation carries on as planned, still a little over time, but otherwise uneventful. The staff members file out, leaving you and the other council members to pack up. 

“Hey, sorry to leave so soon, y/n, but I’ve got to help Gojo out with something,” your treasurer says. 

She’s got an apologetic look on her face and you sigh. 

“He’s not bothering you, is he?” You shuffle the papers in your hand. “Alpha Phi Delta has proven troublesome time and time again for the council, even before Gojo’s presidency.”

She laughs and shakes her head. “Frat and trouble tend to go hand-in-hand, don’t they?”

The deadpan expression on your face is the only answer she needs and you wave her goodbye, watching her black figure weaving away, going god knows where to do god knows what for the sunglasses-wearing, second-biggest pain in your ass. 

“She gets to go and I have to stay? Playing favourites, prez?”

And the first biggest pain your ass speaks up, leaning back in a chair a couple of metres away from you, having moved unnoticed by you somehow. He’s balancing precariously on the chair’s back legs, his legs draped over the table, and eyes sparkling at you. 

You ignore him. 

His eyes narrow. “Why’d you let that bald headed old man interrupt?”

You gulp. 

“Did you get the minutes down, Sukuna?”

A ping goes off on your phone and, like a reflex, you pick it up. He’s sent you an email with a subject line titled, ‘Obviously.’ You resist the urge to smack him over the head with the stack of papers in your hands. 

“You really shouldn’t let those old fucks talk over you like that.”

“Fuck. Off. Sukuna.”

He ignores you. “You coming to our hearing later? The lawyers got the warrant approved for the CCTV recordings.”

Your hands still and when you turn he’s looking at you with a firm stare, daring you to make an excuse not to come. He’s been like this the entire time, pushing you further and further and deeper and deeper into this protest, placing you at the centre of it all. You don’t want to be. You’ve done your part by making a statement and signing up as a defendant, and just that small step had forced you back miles. 

People glare at you, whispering ‘liar’ and ‘whore’ to themselves, and the staff interrupt and ignore you, whittling you down into a little girl, instead of the President of the Student Council of Eden University. 

Even some of the city papers have taken a stance against your cause, claiming that Mahito has contributed so much to the development of the university and his field, advancing understanding of the human psyche, that there's no way he could ever be the monster you and the other girls claim he is. 

Sure, those hateful, short-sighted adversaries of the cause are far and few in between — most people have been kind, supportive, and passionate for your cause — but you can’t help but think about all the people that don’t believe you. 

You’ve worked too hard to be disregarded. 

“I don’t know.”

Sukuna scoffs, heat rising to his eyes. 

“The losers getting to you? Is that it? They scaring you off?”

You can’t stand the judgmental tone of his voice, that undercurrent of anger weighing down every word like he’s pelting you with tomatoes in the town square. He has no right. Your chest begins to rise and fall with shallow breaths, your palms growing clammy, and you feel your cheeks burn. 

“Fuck you. You don’t get to judge me! You don’t get to say my coping is right or wrong. You said it yourself. You’re only in this to have something to add to your CV, so that your political career will begin with a legacy of ‘fighting for the innocent and the voiceless’ and whatever other shit you’ve got.”

Everyone else has cleared out, maybe having done so way before this conversation began. It’s just you and your number one enemy staring at each other, the fire raging between your figures suffocating the large room, swallowing all oxygen. 

You’re becoming lightheaded. 

You hate arguing, hate shouting, hate all types of negative energy. It’s bringing tears to your eyes and you flush even harder. There’s no way you’d ever be able to face him if you cry. 

Sukuna lowers his long legs to the floor, standing up to his full height behind the desk. He tucks his hands into his varsity jacket pockets and scans your body from the tip of your shoes to the top of your head. The look on his face resembles disgust, and you wonder if that’s what he sees when you look at him. 

“If you seriously think I’m only in this for my career, then I guess I’m a bigger monster in your eyes than I initially thought.”

You inhale sharply like you’ve just been punched in the gut. 

And he’s turning away, broad back growing smaller and smaller as he nears the doors. You take a step towards him like you can’t hep yourself. Your fingers itch to grab his jacket sleeve, to apologise, and explain yourself. 

But did you even say anything wrong?

No, Sukuna’s manipulative. Always has been, always will be. This guilt wracking through your body is what he wants you to feel so you’ll cave, so you’ll devote yourself wholeheartedly to this class action. And once you do, surely the chances of success of the suit against Mahito and the university will increase, and he’ll win, and he’ll be set for every campaign he ever runs for the rest of his life. 

You’re so sure of this, so set in your analysis of his character that you force your body to still. You don’t chase after him, you don’t even open your mouth to argue back, to have the last word. 

He stops right before he opens the door, tilting his body ever so slightly to channel his words to you and you only. 

“I wish you could see how strong you actually are. Maybe then you wouldn’t let them get the best of you.”

Your nails dig into your palm. 

“See you around, y/n.”

———

Is it guilt that brought you to the hearing located in an empty office just a ten minute walk from campus? Or the sudden realisation that Sukuna’s right?

It can’t be the latter. 

If society began accepting that devil spawns like Sukuna actually have moral high ground in some situations then the world will never know peace. 

That’s what you keep telling yourself as you push the door open, cringing at the creak, and ignoring the eyes that dart over to you as you settle into a seat at the back. The place is full of students tonight — there are the girls who have been victimised by Professor Mahito, and the friends they’ve brought along for moral support. There are also lawyers and paralegals typing furiously to the side but they quickly become invisible when your eyes settle on a fiery pair already fixated on you. 

He’s not smirking like he always does, like you had expected him to be. There’s not a drop of arrogance or amusement in his eyes, and that makes you feel worse. This hadn’t been a game from the start. Looking now at how he’s organised the whole thing, using his family’s money and connections to get something concrete going, you realise he’s been more into this than you have been. 

One foot has only ever been through the threshold for you, if even that, but Sukuna? Sukuna’s had his feet planted firmly on the ground, placing himself at the forefront of the whirlwind. And you had shrugged off his efforts for justice as mere pragmatism and a feeding of his political agenda. 

You’re a terrible person. 

Mouth zipped and hands clasping each other, you sit there, watching intently every detail presented on the TV screen. Every CCTV recording available displaying Mahito’s advances on a terrified first year in the hallway, against a library bookshelf, in the park, and so on and so forth. 

The evidence is so irrefutable, so in your face, you feel stupid you had ever doubted the class action. And looking around, the horror on people’s faces as they watch the real monster at work highlight just how necessary it is to put things on the line for the greater good. Sukuna had realised that and you didn’t. 

Some kind of president you are. 

Eventually the night draws to an end, conversations fizzle out and people file out one by one. The lawyers had given everyone a thorough talking to, advising everyone not to share any details about the case, the contents of the recordings, and to stay vigilant about any protestors who may be looking to deter the movement. 

There's a sense of hope fizzling in the air, like a weight lifted. Still, there's a long way to go but there's no doubt in anyone's mind that the win is within reach.

You stand outside the office building, just at the top of the stairs, watching the last people disappear into the night. It’s a little cold, winter is approaching after all, but you’ve forgotten your coat. Some things just keep slipping your mind these days.

“Changed your mind, huh.”

Without needing to look, you already know who it is. You’d recognise that voice anywhere, with its low tone and deep cadence, a mocking undercurrent always running through every word, lacing it with something sweet and poisonous. 

You glance at him. He’s wearing the clothes he had on earlier, hair ruffled slightly and you want to fix it. On the other hand, you’ve stopped by your dorm to freshen up, feeling a sudden need to be thoroughly scrubbed and cleansed. But you had mistakenly put on a thin sweater and tied your hair up, forgetting the time and place, like you could only think about what he was going to say or do when he sees you there. 

“Yeah,” you begin, mulling the words in your head before speaking them into fruition, “I suppose, after much consideration, I realised you had a point.”

Sukuna laughs. It’s dark and menacing, the kind a sadist lets out in a horror movie. And it makes you shiver. You want to hear it again. 

“What a long winded way of saying ‘you’re right, Sukuna’.”

The way he says it makes your eyes twitch. He’s put on a shrill, overly feminine voice and practically moaned his own name. That’s probably how all the girls he’s been with has said them. 

A blush is rising to your cheeks and you descend down the stairs, feeling him follow behind you. “It’s just one time. Don’t let it get to your head.”

“Yeah, well, it was good to see you there.”

You’re both walking down the road, you don’t dare acknowledge that his apartment is on the other side of the campus, and he doesn’t mention his intentions. Being side by side, this close, makes your palms sweat. His jacket sleeve brushes against your arm and you move to the left slightly. 

Sukuna only moves in closer. 

“Were you hoping I’d come?”

You hate the melancholy tone your voice has taken, the way you sound so hopeful and wistful. It’s pathetic. Just remember who he is, his true nature, how he hides behind a facade of propriety, of manners and kindness, the perfect gentleman.

Except perfect gentlemen don’t have tongue piercings which sometimes catch the light of the lampposts when he speaks. 

And perfect ladies don’t stare and run their tongue over their teeth absentmindedly either. 

He shrugs and the jacket presses against you. “Wanted to win our little stand-off, of course, so yeah, I guess I did.”

“You won this one but this’ll be the last time.” You huff. “Mark my words, Ryomen.”

He looks down at you, a thoughtful look on his face as he scans your features. You see his jaw tense and you know he’s rolling his piercing like he rolls a pen between his fingers. When you raise a brow in question, he only lifts one shoulder in a lazy shrug. 

It’s irritating you that he’s being mature. You want him to poke and prod like he always does. You want to watch him crack his neck as a way to control his real thoughts and feelings, want to see that challenging smirk, the burning embers in his eyes as he sizes you up, like a snake does with its prey. 

You just want to see him in his true form. 

Well, if he won’t poke, then you should do it. Set nature back on its course, reset the balance of right and wrong, and ensure all is right in the world. So you stop. You literally stand stiff as a board, falling behind a metre before he realises you’re not beside him. 

A muscle in his jaw ticks, you see it flex under the streetlight. It highlights every sharp edge, chiselled features, and makes his threatening eyes even more alarming. 

“Give me your jacket.”

Sukuna scowls. He looks confused. 

“I want your jacket.”

“Get your own,” is all he says before he turns back around and continues walking, flashing you the Ryomen and 13 on his back. You don’t move. He notices and stops, letting out an exasperated groan, hands on his hip like he’s dealing with a child. 

“I swear to god, not even Yuji is this much of a pain in my ass”

You don’t know who this Yuji person is but you don’t care. You’ve made your stance clear. Sukuna being all nice and wise makes the hairs on back of your neck stand; it’s just plain wrong. You don’t want a friend out of him, you want an enemy. You need him to be your enemy, because anything else, anything more, would be disastrous. 

Sukuna must have seen something in your eyes, whether it’s just the steely determination or your inner thoughts, but whatever it is it makes him stalk over to you. His long legs take him to where you stand, just at the edge of a circle of light, and he’s stepping away from his own light and embracing your shadows. He’s tall, with broad shoulders and thick muscles. It’s easy to forget that he's an athlete when he’s always slouching and lazing around. 

Craning your neck, you watch him watch you. He’s tilting his head to the side, assessing the situation and it feels like it lasts for hours, but only a couple seconds pass before he takes off his jacket and throws it over your face. Pulling it down, you see he’s already walking ahead. 

It smells good. Like burnt wood and cherries. You’ve smelt this scent in passing, when he breezes past you to shake hands with a guest lecturer, or in the hallways when you pretend you don't know each other. But now it’s right under your nose, so strong and overwhelming you feel like you might start swaying on your feet. 

How ridiculous. 

You wear the jacket, zipping it all the way up. It’s still kinda warm from his body and you curse at your tits for aching at the feel of them rubbing against the material. With fast feet, you catch up to Sukuna, who's wearing a plain black shirt, tucking his hands into his jean pockets. 

His short sleeves reveal thick arms, veiny and tattooed. Having seen him leave Uzumaki, the tattoo parlour your friend works at, and been told directly via text that he has ‘many’ tattoos, you shouldn’t be surprised at the sight of the thick lines encircling his wrists and peaking through the collar of his shirt. 

And you definitely shouldn’t be thinking about what his tattoos look like under his shirt. 

“Take a picture.”

His drawl knocks you away from your silly thoughts. You scowl at him and distract yourself by untying your hair and tucking your own hands into the jacket’s pockets, fiddling with your hair tie. It felt necessary to have an extra boundary between you and him. The jacket's engulfing you; it's both too big and too long.

“I was just wondering how you managed to convince everyone you’re such a good guy when you’ve got tattoos like that.”

You stumble when his elbow nudges you suddenly. 

“You always so judgey? Think people with tattoos are all degenerates, is that it?”

Rolling your eyes, you nudge him back. He doesn’t budge. “No, of course not. But I’m just saying, you have tattoos, pink hair and a tongue piercing, and yet when I complain about you to my friends, they all insist I’m the problem. It’s like you’ve got them fooled.”

He’s grinning now.  “You talk about me to your friends?”

You ignore that. Your words seemed harmless enough in your head but somehow he’s managed to twist them into something that works in his favour. You hate him. 

The dorm is in front of you now, and you both slow to a stop, just on the grass. You take off the jacket and hand it over to him with a mumbled ‘thanks’ and awkwardly shuffle your feet. It feels wrong to just leave it at that, so you look up at him and clear your throat. 

“Thanks for all your hard work with this class action, by the way. And I’m sorry for accusing you of not caring or whatever.” You, the ever eloquent president of the student body representatives, are stuttering like you’ve never spoken a day in your life. 

Sukuna looks amused.

“You’re welcome, or whatever.”

It’s still not enough. 

You need to hear him say one word. Just one word that’s been bugging you the entire day. He needs to say it so you know he’s forgiven you, so that there’s no bad blood, none more than usual, so that you can face him tomorrow and scowl at him again like you always do and not feel guilt. You need to know where you stand with Sukuna. 

“Thanks for walking me back, too. That was,” you bite your lip, “really…nice…of you.”

He’s trying not to laugh, you can see his eyes crinkle at the corners, even as he presses a hand to his mouth, hiding the grin that’s definitely there. You’ll let him have this victory, just this once.

Sensing your growing irritation, he exhales through his nose like he’s just had the greatest laugh of his life. “Yeah, you’re welcome for that too.” You gulp and he smiles, sharp teeth on display. “See you tomorrow, bright and early…prez.”

You exhale too. 

And then you’re nodding and turning away. 

You reach the reception doors and feel a sudden itch. Something that makes your hand pause and your head turn. 

He’s still standing there. 

Hands in his jacket pocket, and head tilted at you. 

You ignore the fluttering in your chest. Sukuna’s standing there because he has a penchant for watching girls in the dark, you remind yourself. It’s definitely not because he wants to make sure you get in safe. Everyone might think he's a gentleman but you know he isn't. You learn that lesson a long time ago. The hard way.

With a blush on your cheeks, you look away, paying no attention whatsoever to the little wave he gives you and you disappear inside the building. 

Sukuna is not a gentleman.

You repeat that to yourself on your way up to your floor and again when you receive a text from him saying, 

Sweet dreams, prez.

He just isn’t. 

[derinwrites]

Do you have any advice for writing in a web serial format?

Let’s look at this in two sections – the business part, and the actual writing part.

The Business Part

1. Consistency. Consistency in updates. Have a schedule and STICK TO IT.

If your schedule is too hectic and starts affecting your health or otherwise adversely affecting your life, change the schedule; update less often. Don’t update in spurts and then randomly stop. The audience will far more easily tolerate a slow schedule than an inconsistent one; an inconsistent one will lose many readers. You’re not Andrew Hussie and you can’t get away with that bullshit.

There may be times where you need to take a hiatus due to some emergency, life event, or health condition. This is fine – your wellbeing is more important than your story. But you need to be up-front with your audience about this; tell them you’re taking a hiatus and tell them exactly how long it’s going to be. If you can, you should tell them in advance (this isn’t possible for things like a car accident, but is very possible if you’re planning to, say, move house in a month). If you’re taking too many hiatuses, then it’s better to slow down your schedule and update less often. Audiences prefer fast and consistent, but if they have to choose, slow is better than inconsistent.

The #1 helper to consistency is having a big buffer – that is, have several weeks’ worth of unpublished chapters. The length of your buffer is personal taste, but I like to keep mine as long as possible so that if there’s some problem that stops me from writing for several weeks, it won’t upset the schedule. It keeps my stress down to know that I have that leeway. Other writers prefer to only write a week or two ahead, though, so different things work for different people.

2. Decide on your monetisation system early and prioritise it.

The most popular and most effective method for monetising a web serial seems to be the patronage method, which is the one I use. You set up a patreon, ko-fi, or whatever sponsorship system you prefer, and offer rewards to those who support you. Having their names in a credit list and getting access to advance chapters are very common rewards. Some people also lock access to their discord behind a paywall, or offer extra stories or let supporters name story characters.

This model is not the only way to make money from web serials. Some people make money via advertising, or selling merchandise, or use the web serial itself to advertise stories that they sell. You can of course use several revenue streams – you can have both a patreon/ko-fi and run ads on your website (I don’t because I hate ads, but you can), or start selling merch related to your story once there’s a demand for it. Many web serial authors (including myself) sell their completed works as books. But the important thing here is that one of these systems will be your main system, and you need to know what it is and behave accordingly. If you run ads AND have a patreon, are you more focused on ad revenue or patreon revenue? You’re going to have to put your time and attention into one of them over the other. You’re going to have to make decisions that will help one and harm the other. So know in advance which one is most important to you.

You don’t have to monetise your story at all, of course. Plenty of people write fiction on the internet for free every day with no thought to making an income at all. But if you’re serious about this, I would recommend monetising it, because that makes a better and more consistent product. The reason I’m still able to keep writing these year after year is that my supporters pay my mortgage; without Patreon and ko-fi, I’d have to get a different job, and wouldn’t have time or energy to write consistently. Also, the reason I can write and update even when I don’t feel like it, and the reason I always push to make my stories as good as possible even when I’m not interested, is because I owe it to my supporters who are paying me real actual money to read my work. If I didn’t owe my readers anything, none of these stories would ever get finished, because writing is only fun about half of the time.

3. Don’t expect to be able to turn this into a career.

This advice sounds silly coming from me, who has through sheer luck, as well as the generosity and passion of my readers, somehow turned this into a career. But I need to emphasise that that luck is not typical. Most web serial writers will not be able to support themselves solely with their writing. It can make a good side hustle, but if your primary goal is “low barrier to entry work-from-home career where I don’t have to answer to a boss and can support myself comfortably,” then web serial writing is usually all of those things except the last one. There’s no harm in trying to turn this into a career – I did it, as have many other web serial authors – but don’t expect that result, is all I’m saying.

Still, if you can do it, it does have a lot of advantages.

4. Don’t expect to make money fast.

I remember when I finally started making an entire $100/month on Patreon. It was a fantastic day.

It was when I’d been writing web serials for four years.

5. Your most valuable resource is your readership.

Your readership will grow and gather momentum over time. The best business decisions you can make are those that grow your readership and allow your readers to participate in community, even if you have to give up opportunities to make money to do it.

A good example of this is discord. Some people have private discords that only their patrons can access; while this is a useful anti-spam and anti-harassment tool, I don’t recommend doing this if you don’t have a major spam or harassment problem. Some people will pay for discord access, yes, so you might get a handful of extra dollars per month that way – however, you will also get a far less active discord. When it comes to readers, population density is critically important; the more activity, the more people talking about your work together (or talking about anything and bonding with each other), the better. Plenty of people have joined my free discord just because it was there and only read my stories after seeing people talk about them there. Then they go and get their friends to read the stories. Enthusiastic readers are inherently valuable, and the best thing you can do is give them the resources they need to talk to each other and share their interest.

This principle applies to a lot of things. I have a lot of free stories on my website that aren’t the usual web serials, and more than once I’ve considered whether they should be paywalled. The answer I always land on is ‘no’; I couldn’t tell you how many readers have been roped into my web serials because they liked Copy <|> Paste, or The Void Princess, or Drops of Blood. These readers may or may not then become monetary supporters, but even the ones who don’t will increase activity and discussion about the stories, have fun and tell jokes in the discord, and may even produce fanart. A thriving community is always going to be more valuable to you than a few extra dollars; make sure to support them accordingly.

Your readership will start very small. In terms of marketing, this is your hardest time. A big readership does the majority of the marketing for you, but when you’re on your own, it takes a lot to convince anyone to give your stories a shot. It helps if you have an existing readership to leverage, which is what I did – I’d been writing Animorphs fanfiction on AO3 for years, and many of my first readers followed me over from there. If you have such a community that already has faith in your writing, leverage it. If you don’t, you can gain one my writing in a place where people go to read stories similar to your work, such as an appropriate subreddit, or a web serial site like Royal Road or Scribblehub. You are looking to gain as high a number of enthusiastic, engaged readers as possible.

And now, the fun part – the actual craft!

The Writing Part

1. Always remember that you are writing for two audiences

A web serial author has to keep two audiences in mind; the serial readers, and the bingers. You are writing a story that needs to be fun and engaging when read very slowly, at the pace of whatever your update schedule is, but that also needs to be interesting when read all at once.

This is not an easy task.

It’s something I fucked up pretty significantly with Curse Words, which was my first attempt at this. Curse Words has a lot of complicated political stuff happening throughout pretty much the whole story, as well as a complex save-the-world plot that’s reliant on a lot of secrets, mysteries and extremely speculative information. With so many wheels spinning, I decided to make the protagonist not particularly smart and move him very slowly through the plot to make sure that the reader would be able to keep up.

This was a mistake.

‘Pretty slow and simple’ at a novel reader’s pace is torturous at a web serial pace. Readers got a full week to discuss the mysteries and implications of each chapter with each other, doing the detective work of ten chapters between each one. The frustration with Kayden’s slow pace was clear, and he came across as an outright idiot rather than an average teen. Personally, I think this lesson was one of the biggest reasons for the difference in quality between Curse Words and Time to Orbit. Don’t slow down for your audience; they’re already slowed down by your update schedule.

At the same time, though, you don’t want to move so fast that you lose the bingers. You can’t assume that your readers will have time between chapters, or that they will discuss each chapter with other readers, or that they will go back over previous chapters looking for clues. Interested people reading update by update will do this, but bingers absolutely will not. So you still need to make sure that everything is comprehensible on a binge read with no backchecking or outside investigation.

My advice on this matter is to move as fast as possible, but take care to make sure that readers are reminded of everything important a few chapters before it comes into play. That way, both audiences can keep up. If you have to make a decision, it’s best to favour your update readers; they’re your most active community. They’re doing the up-to-date discussion, and probably doing the most word-of-mouth and fanart, although binge readers will do that too (I have plenty of dedicated readers who wait five or six weeks to binge a bunch of chapters on purpose, just because that’s their preferred reading style, and they’re still very engaged). But if you plan to publish your story later as a complete work, you also need to keep in mind how it’s going to read as a binge – and also, new readers will binge the earlier chapters of your story to catch up to the current one, so make sure it’s a good experience for them or they won’t get a chance to become update readers.

Two audiences. Mind your pacing and information reveals accordingly.

2. Chapter length

The general rule of web serials is that the more often you update, the shorter your chapters should be. The generally agreed ‘sweet spot’ is 1-1.5k words, 3 times a week, but this depends heavily on individual style. I update once or twice a week (depending on what stories I’ve got going) and try to keep my chapters between 2 and 2.5k words. If you update once a month, your sweet spot is probably about 10k words.

Don’t hold religiously to what other people tell you the ideal word count is – this will vary drastically with genre and personal style – but it’s best to try to stay fairly consistent. It’s not always possible to stay exactly on target because the best break points between chapters will vary (I’ve got 1.8k chapters and 3.5k chapters), but readers like to be able to predict about how long an update will be and they like it to not vary too wildly too often. As with choosing your update schedule, choosing your chapter length will depend on what suits your personal schedule, and what suits the story you’re writing.

“The shorter the chapter, the more frequent the updates” is a good rule for attracting the widest audience. Short, infrequent chapters will have a lot of readers losing interest between updates; long, frequent ones will have a lot of readers feeling overwhelmed. But the most important thing is finding something that you can consistently output year after year (remember, it took me 4 years to make $100/month; this is a long game).

3. It’s a TV show, not a movie

This advice is less useful in our age of Marvel movie franchises and made-to-binge Netflix series, so pretend I’m talking to you in the year 2010 or earlier. If a novel is a movie, a web serial is a TV show. What I mean by that is that a novel is shaped primarily as a complete experience, whereas a web serial is shaped as a chapter-by-chapter experience.

It’s best, in both cases, to have a well structures and paced story that is made of well structured and paced chapters. But sometimes you have to choose between the structure or a chapter and the structure of the story as a whole; making one better will cheapen the other. When you’re writing a novel, you should choose the structure of the whole, but when you’re writing a web serial, you should choose the structure of the chapter. Web serial readers will prefer a chained series of excellent chapters, over a beautiful story of chapters with mediocre individual structure.

In fact, whether you want a structure to the overall story at all is personal taste. My stories have strong overall structure and move towards a planned conclusion because that’s how I prefer to write (and it also makes the story bingeable, since it’s basically a novel being released really slowly), but plenty of web serials out there have no real planned ending and will wander about for years and years in no obviously consistent direction, occasionally throwing in a big twist or major change to freshen things up. These would make absolutely horrible novels, but make very popular web serials. Whether you write like me or like them, the rule is the same – the experience of each individual chapter takes priority.

Come to think of it, this might be why people call my stories “ADHD crack”…

4. Okay, so how do I structure a good chapter?

I generally try to do three things in every chapter.

- Hit the ground running

- Give them something new

- End on an open question

Hit the ground running – Unless it’s the very first chapter of the story, you don’t have to be coy getting into the action. Open the chapter as if it’s the middle of the chapter; start at full momentum. Catch the high point of the last chapter before it falls. It your last chapter ended with “We checked the fingerprints on the candlestick. It’s Colonel Mustard.” then you can start this one with “But he was in the library at the time!”, you don’t need to recap or slow down or anything.

Give them something new – Every chapter should give the reader at least one thing to talk and think about. A new choice, some new information, a shift in perspective, whatever. People are reading these updates one at a time so it is vital that they feel like they got something out of the experience. A chapter in which nothing is learned will make readers feel like their time was wasted, and they have all the time until next update to reflect on that.

This is also true of a novel, but it’s much more critical in a web serial. A novel with nothing chapters in it is just frustratingly slow-paced; a web serial with nothing chapters in it leaves the reader feeling cheated for long stretches of time.

The thing to talk about doesn’t necessarily have to be a big plot reveal or major advancement. An incredibly cute scene, or sad scene, or funny scene will work just as well. But you have to give them SOMETHING. If you’re giving them nothing, consider cutting the chapter entirely and integrating any important foreshadowing or whatever into the next chapter.

One major hurdle of mine with this rule is recap chapters. If you’re writing a very complex plot over a long period of time, you need ways to occasionally take stock and make sure everyone is on the same page and nobody’s forgotten or misinterpreted anything important. This information can be recapped or conveyed in the middle of an action sequence or something, but I personally find that putting other stuff in the scene makes it too distracting and therefore less effective. I like to literally just sit the heroes down in a room and have them go, “okay, we’re spinning a lot of threads at once right now; what do we know, what are we trying to figure out, and what are our next steps?” This is the literary equivalent of the save point or room full of health packs right before a boss battle. Game designers don’t put that room there to be nice; they do it so that they know exactly how much health you’re going to have going into the battle, and can structure it accordingly.

You can make these chapters entertaining with character banter, but you can’t really introduce new threads to talk about, except possibly as a twist right at the end. Introducing new information mid-recap distracts from the recap and makes it pointless. You might have something similar in your stories, chapters that are essential but don’t give the reader anything new to work with.

My advice for these is to just bite the bullet on this one. Release the chapter with nothing new to talk about. You can get away with doing this occasionally, if the chapter has a clear purpose (I get a lot of readers tell me that they appreciate my recap chapters). Readers who get nothing out of the chapter will shrug and talk about older stuff instead, so long as you only do this occasionally. But a chapter with no new information has a cost in opportunity and in reader patience, so only pay it if the chapter’s worth it.

End on an open question– End the chapter with a reason for the reader to come back. You want them to think about the story afterward and be eager to read the next chapter when it comes out. Adhering to this principle is probably why I have such a reputation for cliffhangers, although truth be told I don’t use nearly as many actual cliffhangers as people say, I just try to end by opening a question. By that I mean, the audience should always end a chapter asking a question, which can be something that will span dozens of chapters (“How can Colonel Mustard’s fignerprints be on the candlestick? Is he being framed? Does this mean that the candlestick was in the library and isn’t even the murder weapon?”) or span a single paragraph (“How will the narrator react to learning that Colonel Mustard lied about never touchign the candlestick?”) This could be the emotional height of a scene, or the point at which new information recontextualises everything. It could be the moment where the stakes are raised or an important assumption turns out to be false. Anything that makes the audience eager to learn what happens next will do.

There should always be at least one open question in your story, more if it’s thematically appropriate. You know how mmorpgs and crafting games and suchlike keep you playing for hours and hours by making sure you’re always near the end of an activity – keep playing til you reach the next level, oh but now we’re nearly at the end of this quest so we should complete that, oh but now we’re just 20 gold short of being able to buy that cool new armour so we should just… same trick. Readers should always have at least one ‘quest’, an open question that they’re following, and should always be close to an answer.

You don’t have to dramatically introduce an entirely new question each time; you can end a chapter by reminding the reader of an existing open question. I tend to be a fan of the Big Dramatic Reveal On The Last Line method (cliffhanger reputation), but you don’t have to do it that way. Indeed, it’s a good idea not to do it that way every single time, lest you get stuck in a rut; every chapter ending doesn’t have to be incredibly tense and snappy. Somebody mentioning that they wish they knew how they could get enough food to make it through the winter before a full paragraph of cuddling and falling asleep in their mother’s arms works just as well.

5. It will help if your story is good, but it isn’t required.

You don’t have to be very good at writing to do this.

It helps to be good at writing, of course, and I assume that since you’re asking me for tips, you’re the sort of person who wants to be as good at writing as you can. But there is some true hack garbage out there doing absolute numbers in the web serial circuit. I try not to harp on about this too much because Curse Words fans get really upset at me when I do, but I think most of us can agree that Curse Words kind of sucks. And that just sucks in an ‘author is still learning how to do this’ kind of way; there’s much worse writing, real bullshit Ready Player One-level writing, trucking along out there brilliantly.

The point I’m trying to make here is that this isn’t an industry where there’s any value in hesitating and wringing your hands and asking yourself if you’re a good enough writer to do it yet. You are. You can just start writing a web serial right now and so long as you consistently update, you’re probably already above average for the market. And your first one probably will suck (mine did), but it’ll teach you how to make a better one. I think that Time to Orbit: Unknown is passably okay, and it absolutely would not be passably okay if I hadn’t written Curse Words first. Just go for it. Try to write a quality story if you can, but if you can’t, it’s honestly not that big of a deal. What matters, truly matters, is that you are committed to improving your craft. And that means actually practicing your craft. Which means writing some chapters and setting up a release schedule.

Good luck.

[katboykirby]

I've talked about this at length on Twitter, so I'll try to keep it short and sweet:

OBEY ME IS NOT ENDING!

I've seen a lot of people panicking and a lot of people doomposting about the games being shut down, about how Solmare is abandoning the franchise, etc.

THIS IS NOT WHAT'S HAPPENING.

- From Solmare's announcement a couple of days ago.

The main story in Nightbringer is being wrapped up, but that's it. The games are not being shut down. The games are not going anywhere. You can still play the original Obey Me! and Nightbringer as much as you want. The main story will simply be finished at Lesson 60.

The franchise itself is not ending, either. Solmare has made multiple statements about this and has made it very clear that Obey Me! the series itself will continue. And the voice actors have confirmed this as well!

In addition to both games remaining, there are multiple new Obey Me! projects coming next year!

According to Solmare, the next era of Obey Me! will include new content, live in-person events, new merch, collaborations, and more that will be announced in 2025.

Believe me, I completely understand the disappointment that comes with this news. I'm deeply saddened and disheartened to know that the main story will be wrapping up so soon. I had been following Obey Me! since before the first game even came out (ever since the promotional trailer was shown at AX in 2019) and I've been a daily player of both games since Day 1. It's absolutely valid and expected for people to be upset.

However, I do think that we need to stop spreading misinformation. There have been a LOT of posts on both here and Twitter by people claiming that the series is over and that the games are being shut down. THIS IS NOT TRUE. Not only have I seen far too many people repeating these false claims, I've seen far too many people believing them at face value. I have seen too many people saying that now they're going to delete the games from their phone and leave the fandom, and I've seen fic writers and artists say that they're going to start deleting their works "because it's over now so why bother"

PLEASE DON'T. Obey Me is not ending! The games aren't being shut down! The series is still continuing with new content coming next year!

Repeating this misinformation isn't just damaging for the people who believe it, but if you're pushing players away from the fandom/series because they believe it's been shut down, then that's going to harm Obey Me! as well. We will only continue to get more new content and new OM projects if the series is successful, and alienating fans won't help anybody.

There's been a lot of anxiety and doomerism these past couple days. And while I totally understand feeling disappointed, PLEASE do not make false claims or spread misinformation. The games are not going anywhere and you can still play both of them as much as you want. The Obey Me! series is continuing with multiple new projects next year!

[lustlovehart]

Warnings: Slightly Suggestive(? Idek if it counts), Leona thinks about taking your vitality (not to the point of death tho), reference to Leonas crimes, Hints of obsession

“Defenseless…?” You peak behind Leona, piles of ash and dust tell you he’s not as defenseless as he says. Though, the skeletal hand alone is enough to know the truth. But, in truth, you never thought Leona would pose to be “in distress” so they say. He’s the type to retaliate whenever someone accuses him of being weak. “You know… Something tells me you’ll be fine, Leona…”

He tilts his head, his smirk fading before shrugging his shoulders, you’re caught in whiplash when he turns away from you with a yawn.

“If you say so. If I get murdered while you’re gone, don’t get upset kay’?”

…

He really knows how to make you feel responsible.

You sigh, sitting down on the floor of his throne, dust flying into the air, head leaning up, falling into the space between his legs. Your eyes looking directly into the space of his face, devoid of facial features, save for his lips and nose. Though… would the open slash on his eye count as a feature?

“Thought you said i’d be fine?” he lifts from slouching on the stone, his head falling to look down at you between his legs, bandaged face inches from you. His lips express amusement and stoicism, somehow. Your fingers lift from the floor, a nail sneaking beneath the fabric, lingering on the cut in his skin. His hand grabs yours, lifting it before you can pull off the cloth.

“Thought about it, and you’re right.” you pull away from him, his palm still enclosed, staying in the spot your own was. Lingering, fleeting. “I can’t just leave a damsel in distress alone right? Especially royalty no?” a single laugh leaves him, his back hitting the hard exterior of his chair. Your turn you body, chin resting on the stone. If anyone walked by, they could easily confuse the scene for you worshipping him.

Little do they know, the roles are reversed. You’re no worshiper, you’re the muse. You always will be, to these monsters at least.

“Yeah, distress.” there’s a certain irony. It might be from the skeletons the lean on the wall, or maybe the sacks stained with red. But you play along. “We can be defensless together, yeah?” his bandaged hands takes hold of your cheek, gold draining into his veins. All it takes is one cough, and your eyes frantically look at his crimes splayed on the walls with panic, for him to pull back.

…

“Maybe i’m not that defenseless.”

With these many bodies at your hands? There’s no way he’s in need for you. It doesn’t stop him from believing he does though.

Alt:

Honestly, making the short snippet for this was a bit difficult! I was struggling to think with what Leona would do. He doesn't enjoy the idea of being viewed as weak as all… but when it comes to it, if there’s something he needs to have, he’ll do it.

[bbyquokka]

nerd in love

– after a misunderstanding, jisung finally tells yn how he feels at his birthday party .ᐟ.ᐟ

pairing | han jisung x fem reader

genre | mutual pining , fluff , uni au – 18+ is strongly advised!

cw | she/her pronouns used ; mostly in jisung pov ; food and alcohol mentioned ; a lil suggestive at the end

words | 10.1k ~ ( 10,133 )

notes | well, here it is! i started this before my break (which is why its so late) but finished it during my break n i just wanted to post it bc im proud of this n i adore this version of jisung n the friendship dynamics !! :( don’t forget to leave feedback, reblog and tell me what you think here. i hope you all enjoy! ‹3

m.list — wips list — you can also read it on my ao3

dont repost. dont translate. minors, ageless & default blogs; dni! feedback and reblogs are highly advised and appreciated!

your pen taps against the white, lined sheet of paper that has a few scribbles and doodles on. your cheek resting on your hand as you sigh a little in boredom. 

the professor has been groaning on and on about the same thing. you want to listen and take in the information as you know it's important, but your mind wanders and you start to daydream; making imaginary scenarios.

you'd imagine an alien suddenly abducting you because it heard your silent cries of boredom. you and the alien would become the best of friends, the alien showing you around it's space shuttle and inviting you to have some tea and cake before making friendship bracelets – because that's what humans do, right?

other times, you'd imagine a strong, buff greek god suddenly turning up in class. he'd walk to you and take your hand, claiming that you're his long lost bride, before carrying you bridal style and off into the sunset where you two would get married and have babies.

so caught up in your fake scenarios, you don't see that another student is now looking at you.

the student is sitting in front of you–his usual designated spot. black hair that's long and permed and covers his eyes. glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. dressed in a button up shirt and black jeans, paired with a few accessories and black doc marten boots.

“excuse me.” he whispers, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “you're making too much noise.” he frowns.

you snap out of your daydream and sit up straight, wiping the imaginary drool from your chin with the back of your hand.

“o-oh.. sorry jisung.” you laugh awkwardly. he tuts and rolls his eyes before facing the front. you scoff a little and sit back in your seat.

you don't have very many friends in university, a small handful but it's enough and you don't have very many enemies either, but since jisung started the same class as you, he's been cold towards you.

he's not like this with other people, just you–it's like he can't stand you.

but for some reason, his cold, mean demeanour just makes you want him and find him even more attractive.

it's not a kink of yours, to be spoken down to and degraded. in fact, you love having the attention on you and being treated kindly and gently so it's unknown to you why you find him so attractive.

“alright class! that's all for today. you're all dismissed.” the teacher says. you silently cheer, packing up your things in your backpack.

jisung rises to his feet and swings his bag onto his shoulder, letting it rest there before pulling out his phone. you both catch eye contact with each other.

“see you tomorrow?” you say politely and smile. jisung quickly looks away and mumbles something before walking out in a rush.

maybe you're still daydreaming, but you swore you could see the tips of his ears turning a light shade of pink. 

────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──

“fuck, i’m so late!” you alternate between running and speed walking your way to your class. your alarm didn't go off this morning so when you finally awoke, it was up and out in a flash. “i'm so screwed!”

today is an important day. the teacher was going to go over a few things on a test that's due in a few weeks so you really needed to attend it to get an idea–but alas, here you are. hair disheveled, dried up drool on your chin and your socks mismatched with your backpack hanging off your shoulder.

you breathe a sigh of relief before stopping in front of the lecture hall doors. you take a deep breath and fix yourself up before reaching out to open the doors.

the doors suddenly swing open. the students exiting the hall. you stand in the middle of the students as they walk around you, engaging in conversations with their friends.

you frown in confusion, looking at the time on your phone. your eyes widen even more, bulging from the sockets.

“oh wow.. i really fucked up.” you were a lot later than you thought.

you look up to see jisung looking at his phone. today he's in a plain, black t-shirt and skinny jeans. a few chains hanging around his neck and converse.

“hey, ji!” you call out. he looks up at whoever is calling him before his face twists into disgust when he realises it's you. you ignore this, mainly because he rushes past you.

you frown and chase after him, trying to keep up with his speed–but he's too fast.

“hey! wait! i know you heard me, ji!!”

“don’t call me that. my name is jisung.” he mumbles.

“ok ok, sorry! just, i need help!” 

“find it elsewhere.” his tone of voice is cold towards you; like always. again, you ignore it.

“please, i’m desperate! my alarm didn't go off and i clearly missed class! i know it was super important too and–can you slow down and listen to me?!” you huff.

jisung lets out an irritated sigh and looks at you; phone in one hand, earphones in the other. he stops in the middle of the corridor and looks at you.

you bend down, hands on your knees to catch your breath. 

“you being late has nothing to do with me. it's your own fault for being late.” he says, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“yeah, i know.”

“you fucked up and now you want my help? how could i possibly help you?”

“i need your notes.”

“my notes? fuck no.” 

“oh please, ji… sorry–jisung. i really, really need this.” you pout. jisung groans and rubs the back of his neck.

“ok, fine.” he sighs in defeat. you're taken aback by how easy it was for him to surrender his notes over to you; but you don't complain. he takes his notebook out of his bag and hands it to you. you cheer and open it up, looking at the notes.

his handwriting is beautiful. his notes are easy to follow, however, you've come to the realisation that looking at notes isn't going to be enough for you to get the information to stick in your mind.

“make sure to give it to me by the end of the day. i’m usually at the library.” he says as you flick through his notes. “if you can't find me, find minho. he's my roommate.” 

you don't respond due to the fact that so much information is causing your brain to go into information overload. jisung sighs again and, as he is about to walk away, you grab his arm.

“wait!” you make a quick mental note of how soft his skin is and how muscular he feels. jisung looks at your hand that's on him, feeling heat quickly rise to his cheeks and his heart to thumb erratically in his chest.

“your hand.” he whispers. you lean in close to get a better understanding of what he just said.

“pardon?”

“hand. your hand. please remove it.”

“oh!” you quickly remove your hand from him. jisung clears his throat and looks down, hoping that his long hair covers his face to hide the blush that's happily sitting on his cheeks.

you see it though and make a note of how adorable he looks. you feel your own heartbeat skipping beats and beating erratically but you put it down to you having to sprint to class.

“i don't think this will be enough.” you start. he looks up at you. “the notes.. i don't think it's going to be enough.”

“well, there's a library and also the internet. there’s this thing called google, so use that.”

“teach me.” his eyes widen in shock.

“t-teach you?! fuck no, yn!”

“please, jisung! just until the test is over! i really, really need this. i’m desperate and, although your notes are so perfect, it's going to take a lot more than notes for me to understand it!”

“then ask the tutor for a one-on-one! or ask your friend!!” he stutters in shock. his cheeks are now bright red.

“you know the tutor doesn't do one-on-ones and my friends don't even take this class! oh please, jisung. pleeeaseee. pretty pretty pleeease.” you pout, giving him puppy eyes.

“yn…”

“i’ll buy you your coffee everyday for a full month.”

“... just my coffee?”

“what sweet treat do you like?”

“...cheesecake.” he answers reluctantly.

“then coffee and cheesecake on me for a full month!” jisung runs his fingers through his hair slowly, a soft, defeated sigh leaving his lips as he contemplates.

“you really need this, huh.” you nod your head fast to the point of dizziness. “you drive a hard bargain, yn. but fine.”

you cheer and grin widely.

“on some conditions though.”

“what?”

“we study in the library, you don't be late and we only do this until the test is over! after that, i won't teach you anymore.”

“yes sir.” you salute. “oh, do you want my contact information? might make it easier to set up study dates.”

“study dates?” 

“yeah! i assume we have different schedules due to different classes, so it's better to text or call each other so we know when to meet up!”

“true.. ok, fine. give me.” you tell jisung your contact information. he phones you and you smile as you save his contact information.

“thank you so much, jisung! you're the best!” you say before sprinting off to find your friend leaving a flustered jisung bewildered in the middle of the corridor.

“study dates, huh.. i kinda like that.” 

────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──

“dude, chill. you're just going to the library to study” jisung’s roommate laughs as he watches jisung scurrying around the place as he packs his bag. 

minho is relaxing on jisung’s bed, shirtless and in sweats with round glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose whilst eating an ice pop. him and jisung have been the best of friends since university started and he became jisung’s roommate.

since then, they've both been inseparable. many people speculate that something is going on between the two of them, indicating a relationship–minsung, they call them.

“i am chill.” jisung mumbles as he shoves in a few too many pens into his pencil case.

“yeah, suuuure.” minho laughs as he licks and sucks on his popsicle. “i’ve watched you run around the place like a headless chicken.”

“dude, please hush.” jisung looks at minho just as some sticky sweet ice drops onto minho's chest. he scoops it up with his fingers and eats it. jisungs sighs “do you have to eat that on my bed?”

“yeah. problem?” minho smirks

“yes. quite a few actually. you're going to get the sheets sticky!” jisung whines.

“not the first time i've heard that.” minho laughs at his own joke. jisung rolls his eyes but the corner of his lips turn upright into a smile as he holds back his laugh.

“you're disgusting.”

“yeah? and you're a mess right now, bro.” minho places the wooden popsicle stick on jisung's side table before swinging his legs around to plant his feet on the floor.

he stands and walks to jisung, ruffling his hair a few times.

“you're just going to study, that's all. it's not that big of a deal, bro. unless….” minho smirks and wiggles his brows at jisung.

“unless what? what are you implying, minho?” jisung says as he crosses his arms across his chest and raises his brow.

“unless you, oh i don't know, like her.” jisung's eyes widen a little and he clears his throat, turning his head to avoid eye contact with minho. “aha!! i knew it! you do like ‘em!”

“no, i don't. fuck off, minho.” jisung mumbles and rushes to his desk, messing and organizing a few things to ‘look busy.’

minho skips over to jisung with a smirk. “c’mon ji. we all know you've been smitten with yn since the very beginning. it's soooo obvious!”

“dude, please. i don't like her like that. and it's jisung–not ji!”

“ahuh. whatever you say, dude.” minho laughs. 

“plus, she probably doesn't like me in that way..” jisung mumbles before sighing softly.

“have you asked her that?”

“well… no but–”

“then how do you know?” 

“i just do, ok?! enough with the questions, minho. don't you have that media assignment to do or something?”

“nope.” minho says, popping the p in an obnoxious way. “all done, which means i am a free man.”

“no one is a ‘free man’ in university, minho.” jisung laughs. 

“ugh, you're right. even though one assignment is done, i still have a gazillion more.” minho runs his fingers through his long, shaggy hair. “speaking of which, i best start with at least one of them.”

“good luck, man. you'll do great.” jisung says sarcastically, paring it with a sarcastic grin.

“fuck you. good luck with yn, jisung.” minho turns around and walks out of jisung's bedroom. “hope you get laid!” he shouts.

“fuck you.” jisung laughs. minho sticks his middle finger up at jisung before laughing and closing his bedroom door.

with the last of his things packed, he zips up his back. he checks one last time in the mirror, fixing his hair and spraying his best perfume onto his neck. he puts his hand up to his mouth, huffing on it before sniffing. pulling a face, he grabs a mint and pops it into his mouth, sucking on it as he puts on his shoes and a leather jacket.

“it’s just a study thing. it's not that serious. calm down, jisung.” he mumbles as he laces up his shoes.

but he can't stop his heartbeat from thumping loudly against his ribcage and excitement to rush through his body. his excitement is so big, it makes him shake. 

“it’s not a big deal. she probably doesn't like you that way.” he continues to mumble in an attempt to calm himself down as he takes one last look in the mirror. a smile slowly creeps up onto his face and a small squeal escapes from the back of his throat.

“fuck! i’m so screwed.” 

minho hears this and laughs at his friend's excitement before putting on his headphones. if there's one thing minho loves, is seeing his best friend happy and over the moon. he just hopes he won't get hurt.

“cute.” minho says to himself before typing away at his keyboard. jisung leaves the bedroom and shouts a goodbye to minho before heading out to the library.

nervous doesn't describe how jisung is feeling. as he walks to the library, his legs start to feel like jelly and the urge to turn back strong the closer he gets to his destination. he hopes that you're not there first just so he has time to calm himself down.

he even tries to listen to music in hopes that it would calm him down somewhat. but the soothing sounds of violins and cellos do nothing (he even tried listen to a few seconds of whale noises but even that was useless)

“we’re just studying. nothing more.” he repeats under his breath as he walks inside the library.

the place is nicely decorated, modern with a hint of an historic touch. students at tables and little cubicles, headphones on and studying. some in groups, whispering as they do projects of various kinds. some making the most of how quiet it is to take a quick nap. the occasional rustling of snack packets paired with the occasional crunch breaks the silence every so often.

it's silent but it's lively.

jisung says a few hellos to some students he recognises (either from classes they take together or them being minho's friends) as he searches the area for you.

his heart thumping as he searches. he silently cheers when he can't see you because he has a chance to calm down, but, as he walks to an empty table at the very back of the room, his victory is cut short as he sees you sitting there; ready and waiting.

you have your back to him (and to everyone else) and you're hunched over your notebook. jacket resting on the back seat with your bag on the floor, by your side. jisung takes a quick, small peek over your shoulder to see what you're doing only to see small, quick doodles on the page from boredom.

his heart swells a little as it's another thing he's learnt about you. just when he thinks you couldn't get any more perfect.

“hey, yn.” he whispers only to realise that you won't hear him no matter how many times he calls for you due to the music that's blasting from your earphones. he makes a quick mental note of who you're listening to before trying to get your attention again.

“hey, yn.” he places his hand on your shoulder to which you jump at, causing jisung to jump at your reaction. you look behind you as you take out your earbuds, sighing in relief.

“jesus, jisung. you frightened me.” 

“sorry, yn. i didn't mean to.”

“no, it's ok. my music may have been a little too loud.” you laugh as you put them away and jisung sits next to you on one of the chairs.

“you know you'll get tinnitus if you keep doing that.” 

“yeah… i know. it's a bad habit but music sounds better loud, y‘know!” jisung nods in agreement before pulling out his notebook and pencil case.

you watch him lean down. you take the time to admire him. his hair soft and fluffy. you have to resist the urge to run your fingers through it. a faint smell of strawberries and flowers emits from his hair; a sickly sweet yet pleasant smell.

his skin is dewy and perfect; not a blemish in sight. a beauty mark sits close to his lips. it's a small mark so it's no wonder you never recognised it before.

you notice the way his biceps bulge and flex with every motion of his arms. the chains from his neck dangle a little and his aftershave wafts towards you and tickles your nose hairs.

“you smell so good.“ you mumble. jisung looks at you.

“excuse me?”

“you smell so fucking good.” you repeat and lean in close to him. your hair tickles his jawline and chin as you smell the skin of his neck. “what do you use?”

“...i–urm, i don't know. i just picked it up when i was shopping.” you hum and nod. jisungs soft cheeks slowly start to feel very hot. “personal space, yn. ever heard of it?”

“oh!! sorry. my bad. i didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.” you laugh awkwardly as a awkward silence falls upon you both.

jisung turns his head away from you so you can't see him but his cheeks are very red and hot as his heart beats fast. 

you were so close to him. so very, very close. he thought he was going to have a heart attack. he could smell you and to him, you smell so delicious and sweet; like vanilla cheesecake. 

“this is not good for my heart.” he mumbles to himself. 

“by the way” you begin. jisung looks at you. you slide a cold coffee and cheesecake in the middle of you both. “told you i’d stick to my end of the bargain.”

“i didn't expect you to do it so soon, yn. it's only the first session.”

you shrug. “a deals a deal.” jisung takes the cheesecake and coffee, sipping on it and humming softly as the bitter, cold taste coats his tastebuds and the caffeine enters his system.

“i didn't know what flavoured cheesecake you like so i hope it's ok.”

“what flavour is it?”

“strawberry”

“mhm, not bad.”

“you don't like strawberry?” you say with a small pout. he shrugs.

“it's fine. not the worst. but it's too sweet for me. i’m a vanilla kinda guy.”

“aah, ok. i’ll make a mental note of that.” you say as you tap your temple, laughing softly. jisung lets out a small puff of air from his nose. you see the corner of his lips curl into a small and that makes you feel like he's accepted you.

“now, enough chitchat. i actually want to be done in a decent time so, let's begin?”

────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──

“sooooo” jisung looks up at minho, his chopsticks half hanging from his mouth, resting on his bottom lip.

the smell of spicy, instant ramen fills the air. minho cooked some food for the two of them as they have both been studying hard for upcoming tests and assignments. 

instant ramen with a slice of cheese on top. rice cakes, fish cakes and other yummy goodnesss swim in the broth. the kitchen looks a mess, pots and pans scattered everywhere–it contributes to the rest of the dorm with the various clothing and shoes scattered around.

“soooo…” jisung repeats, eyebrows raised. his bangs are tied back in a pink hair tie (your pink hair tie), a white vest top and sweats on his body. minho is also in sweats but with an anime print t-shirt and a sanrio clip to hold back his bangs and a pore strip on his nose; getting tighter and tighter by the second.

“have you asked her yet?”

“asked her what?” jisung takes some noodles and a fish cake, putting them on a small, separate plate before grabbing some kimchi.

“dude.” minho rolls his eyes and lets out a long, irritable groan. “for being smart, you sure are dumb.”

“you're just dumb through and through.” jisung smiles playfully as minho sticks his middle finger up at his best friend.

“fuck you.” minho takes a rice cake that's soaked in the ramen broth. he chews it, the sound of sticky, chewy rice cake emits from his mouth. “anyways! have you asked yn about the party?”

jisung lets out a slow grunt. “not this again, minho.” 

“what?!” minho says with a shrug as he continues to chew and talk.

“i already told you, and eeeeveryone else. i don't want a party or anything of the sort, minho. i just want it to be a nice, quiet day.” jisung’s eyes drift to the half chewed rice cake that's being tossed around in minho's mouth. he pulls a face in disgust. “and can you please not talk with your mouth full?”

“you're such a prude.” minho rolls his eyes but swallows his food regardless. “anyways, you know me, changbin and chan won't let you have a quiet birthday!”

“yeah, no shit.” jisung rolls his eyes as he slurps on his noodles. he wipes his mouth with a napkin before munching on some kimchi. “still don't understand why you all decided to plan a birthday party without my knowledge knowing full well i said no in the beginning.”

“dude, you're so boring.” minho jests. “it's your birthday!” he emphasise. “you're supposed to have a party, eat lots of cake and junk. drink beer, hang out with friends and maybe, get laid.”

he wiggles his eyebrows at jisung and laughs softly. with a heavy sigh, jisung puts his chopsticks down.

“no matter what, you're going to go through with this, aren't you?” 

“yup!” minho obnoxiously pops the P. “plus, things have already been ordered and organised for it. we already have a few people who confirmed they're attending.”

“who?”

“mhm–” minho puts down his chopsticks and thinks, looking at the ceiling as he does. “felix from fashion design. hyunjin from art. seungmin from business studies and jeongin who is also from fashion design.”

“how do you know all these people?”

“well, unlike some–” minho's eyes widen as he looks at jisung, indicating he's talking about him in particular “–some of us actually get out. plus, chan is like a social butterfly and changbin is charismatic. put them two together and well, people can't say no.”

“yeah, true. i remember when they begged me to work on a track or something for their music assignment.” 

“they both practically dragged you to do it.” minho laughs.

“only because you told them i said yes without me knowing about the situation!”

“because i knew you'd say no! you have a talent for this stuff, jisung. don't let it go to waste.”

“thanks.” he mumbles, hanging his head low in embarrassment and awkwardness.

“is that… is that a blush i see?!” minho smirks.

“me? blush? for you?! hell no!” jisung frowns. “the ramen is spicy, that's all.”

“dude… it's mild.”

“...fuck you.”

“so, are you going to ask yn or nah?”

“if it gets you and everyone else off my back, then sure”

“good. make sure you do!” jisung opens and closes his hand, mimicking minho's yapping.

“yeah yeah yeah. can we stop talking about this party and eat?”

“just looking out for ya, man. i know how much you like ‘em!” 

“i know. i appreciate it, minho.” minho nods and continues eating the ramen. jisung, on the other hand, is now lost in thought.

how the hell is he going to get the courage to ask you something like that?

────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──

the study sessions are slowly coming to end. you kept up with your end of the deal, providing jisung with an endless amount of coffees and cheesecakes whilst he has provided you with an endless amount of insights.

one thing you have learnt about him is that he is smart. he knows how to do things with just a quick glance. he's good at explaining things so it's not confusing. 

you've been stuck on a problem for some time and no amount of teachers advice and youtube videos helped you. all it took was five minutes of jisung explaining the solution and it clicked.

today, however, you are alone in the library. jisung messaged you to let you know that he wasn't going to make it. you felt sad and a little heartbroken–you’ve become so accustomed to jisung's presence that you feel a little cold and lonely right now.

you can't concentrate. the music you're blasting down your ears isn't helping either. the text in your book is slowly starting to merge into one big splooge of text. the information just isn't getting through to you and it's frustrating.

you sit back in your seat and sigh as you take your headphones off and throw them on the table. 

“this is pointless.” you mumble. “i can't concentrate. maybe i should just skip it.”

you take your phone and browse through social media before subconsciously opening up the food app. your mouth salivates as you look at the various burgers, fries, pizza and sweet treats–and then your stomach growls.

“maybe i’m just hungry. that's why i can't concentrate.” you pack your things and head to the university cafeteria. the menu looks dull so you settle on a simple sandwich and drink.

the cafeteria is packed. the atmosphere is buzzing with the endless chatter of students. you take your seat and pick up your sandwich.

it's a standard ham salad sandwich with some dressing on. the slices of ham and lettuce (too much lettuce for that matter), tomatoes and other salad stuff squished together by two slices of thick, white bread, smothered in dressing.

you take a few bites. it's ok. it's not bad but you've had better. the bread is a little dry for your liking but the dressing takes that away. you open the cap of your bottled drink and take a few swigs to help wash it down.

“what do we have here?” you turn your head in the direction of the voice–that thick aussie accent you know all too well.

“ew. go away chan. you're disturbing my peace.” 

“charming. don't think that's something you should say to someone you haven't seen in a while.” he says with a pout as he walks to your table and sits down. he's joined by another man, a friend of his, perhaps. he sits opposite you.

“and whose fault is that, huh? maybe if you answered my calls or texts every once in a while.”

“sorry, yn. i’m just a busy man, y’know.” chan grins as he leans back in his seat, brimming with confidence.

“yeah. too busy being the campus whore.”

“blah blah blah. least i’m getting some.” he elbows you in the side a few times. “what are you getting, huh?” he jests.

“a degree? y'know that thing i came here for in the first place.”

“oh ha ha. very funny, yn.” chan mocks, rolling his eyes at you before stealing your sandwich and taking a bite.

the male opposite you clears his throat as a way of telling you both “hi, i’m still here.”

“oh! yn, this is minho. minho, yn.” minho's eyes widen a little and his lips twitch into a small smile.

“so, you're yn. nice to put a face to the name.“ he grins.

“you know me?” you blink a few times in confusion.

“i’m jisung’s roommate.” you mentally slap yourself. of course!

“oh my god. i’m so sorry. i didn't realise! i’m so bad with names.” you whine. minho laughs and brushes it off.

“and how do you know jisung, yn?” chan says with a mouthful of food; your food to be exact. you glare at him, daggers darting out of your eyes and straight into chan as you snatch your sandwich back off him.

“jisung’s my private tutor as of right now.”

“oh.” chan nods before his eyes suddenly light up. he looks at minho for confirmation. “wait, hold up.”

minho nods and smirks. “nah. really?!” you watch the two men talk in code as they communicate by facial expressions and a stings of “ohs” and “yeahs”

“uh, hello. i’m still here!” minho laughs softly.

“sorry, yn.” you shrug it off and eat your sandwich. “how do you two know each other by the way. chan has never mentioned you before.”

“good. keep it that way.” you say coldly, mainly aiming it at chan. chan pouts and nuzzles into you, head on shoulder. he looks at you with puppy eyes and a pout.

“aww. don't be like that, bestie. you secretly love me.” you flick his forehead.

“me and chan are childhood friends. haven't been able to get rid of him since.” chan smiles at your sweet implication. “he's like a parasite. or a fruit fly in the summer.” his smile drops and now, it's your turn to give chan a big, sarcastic grin–teeth and all.

“rude.” he mumbles. you shrug and finish off your sandwich. 

“so, jisung is your tutor.” minho speaks. you nod.  “are you attending his party?” 

“party? what party?” you look at chan and minho. minho sighs a little and runs his fingers through his hair.

“i warned him.” he mumbles under his breath in irritation before looking at you and smiling softly. “me, chan and a few others are organising a birthday party for jisung.”

“his birthday is coming up?!” your eyes widen. “when? i should get him a gift”

“14th.”

“14th?! that's pretty soon.” you mumble.

“jisung told me he would invite you.” you shake your head no. minho rubs the back of his neck. “well, this is awkward.” 

“it’s ok. maybe he has his reasons as to why he didn't mention it to me. no biggie.” you say with a smile. minho nods before a few minutes of silence dawn upon the three of you.

“out of curiosity.” you break the silence. “how is jisung in general?” minho tilts his head to the side. “it's just he seems so….” you think for a second, thinking of the right (and nice) word to use “... cold towards me.”

“cold?” 

“mhm. he seems so bitter towards me and i don't know why. we barely even talked in class but when we did, he would always tell me i’m making too much noise and to hush.” you slowly start to feel slightly irritated. 

“jisung is fine with me.” he says with a. shrug. “he's pretty chill around me.” you huff.

“i know he can be friendly because whenever i see him in the corridors talking to someone, he smiles and is so friendly!”

“what’s he likes now, yn?”

“well, now that we've been spending more time with each other, he's… i don't know… avoiding me to some degree? he won't make eye contact with me. he doesn't like it when i touch him.”

chan raises his brow and looks at minho, both men thinking the same thing. chan puts you in a gentle headlock and ruffles your hair.

“hey!! get off me!!” you push chan a few times, using all your strength to make him release you.

“you're pretty naive, yn.” chan laughs, continuing to ruffle your hair. he ignores your screams and yells, minho laughing at the two of you.

finally, chan let's you go. you push him with all the strength you have left before fixing your hair and glaring at him. chan pouts and nuzzles into you once again.

“i’m sorry, yn. forgive me?” he puckers his lips and makes kissing noises, edging closer and closer to you. you hold him at arm's length.

“ok ok!! just quit doing that!!” chan laughs and pats your head gently.

as fast as he was in the cafeteria, jisung is soon out of it after seeing you and chan, with nothing but festering jealousy in his stomach.

────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──

you bounce through the library to your designated spot at the very back, coffee and cheesecake in each hand with your bag swinging on your shoulder.

jisung is there, punctual, as always. but something seems a little off. the air around him seems thick and suffocating–dark even. 

“hey!” your cheerful voice ringing in his ears, making his heart beat fast. you sit next to him and slide over the coffee and cheesecake.

today he's dressed in a yellow and orange flannel shirt and white tank-top. black jeans and boots to accommodate. a few of his nails are painted in black, chipping from wear and tear.

he gives you a cold nod of the head. you frown a little but choose to ignore it as you take your books and pens out of your bag.

“so, what's the plan for today?” jisung shrugs. “...ok, well how about we go over that question i was struggling with?”

“k” he reluctantly moves closer to you. the scent of cinnamon and vanilla wafts towards you and tickles your nostrils, making you let out a small hum of satisfaction.

“you smell good, jisung.”

“mhm, thanks.” you let out a silent sigh. something is wrong with him and you don't know why. is it something you've done? something you haven't done? 

jisung is being very dry and sour with you. his usual method of teaching you is that he would go into detail and repeat until you'd understand it, today, however, he's very short and sharp.

“i don't understand.” you say. jisung sighs, a long irritated sigh. you bite your lip, thinking that you've done something to hurt him in any possible way.

“what don't you get?”

“all of it…” he sighs again and rubs his face. his eyebrows furrow together in irritation. the jealousy he is feeling in his stomach is festering, becoming more and more intense.

every time he looks at you, he is reminded of the way you and chan were together. he hates that. how could you fall for someone like chan? he thought you were better than that. his head swimming with negative and harsh thoughts.

before he can stop himself, the words just spill without any control. “why don't you get chan to do it for you.”

you blink. “chan? what does he have to do with this?”

“i mean, you two are close are you not?”

“i mean.. well, yeah, i guess.” you shrug. “he does get on my nerves sometimes though. he is such a pain! but he's a good gu–”

“i thought you were better than that, yn.’ he spits.

“the fuck is that supposed to mean?” you feel the bubbling of rage in your stomach as you stare at jisung, who stares at you back. the jealousy has consumed his body and it's too late to back out now.

“as in, i thought you had standards. chan? of all people? he's a whore, yn. everyone knows that he sleeps around on campus and you chose him?!”

“i don't appreciate the way you're talking about him, jisung.”

“it’s the truth, yn! and you know it so why are you with him?! you can do sooo much better than him!!”

“oh yeah?” you challenge. “then who is good for me, mhm? please, enlighten me?” 

jisung freezes. he looks away and chews his bottom lip. you scoff and pack your things in a hurry.

“i don't have to listen to this bullshit. you've been in a shit mood with me this whole time, which is fine. everyone has bad days. what's not ok, however, is you taking it out on me and bad mouthing the people i care about.” you stand up, swinging your bag onto your shoulder. jisung stares at one spot of the desk, burning holes into it. “text me when you're in a better mood.”

you walk out, leaving jisung to think about what he has just done.

────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──

“jisunggggg. sungieeee. knock, knock. let me innn!” the sound of minho's high-pitched, cheery voice irritates jisung to the bone. he lets out a slow and irritated groan, hot puffs of air slowly exhaling from his nostrils.

he pushes his glasses up his nose and runs his fingers through his unwashed hair. sitting at his desk in the same baggy band t-shirt and sweats from a few days ago, he checks his phone for the nth time, only to be disappointed.

he hasn't spoken to you nor seen you since that day. in class, it's worse. he's tried to catch your eye a few times, smiling when he does, only for you to turn away. he spent days loathing in his own self pity, locking himself up in his room and only coming out for food, bathroom breaks and class.

minho has had enough. not only is jisung's mood ruining the atmosphere, but minho has no idea as to what happened that day. he was home when jisung came back to the dorm, looking like he was on the verge of tears. 

when he asked, jisung always gave the same answer of “mind your own business.”–and he has; for several days now.

“let me in, jisung.” the repetitive sounds of minho's knuckles against the wood door cause jisung's stomach to bubble more intensely with anger–until he finally snaps.

he rushes to the door and swings it open, brows furrowed together. minho's smug grin makes him foam at the mouth.

“what part of leave me alone don't you understand, minho?” jisung's words dripping with poison. minho shrugs it off.

“all of it.” he pushes past jisung, making himself at home in his bedroom. jisung has no time to protest, all he can do is watch his best friend jump on his bed and rest on his back, arms behind his head.

with a heavy sigh, jisung walks back to his desk. he turns his back on him, hoping that if he ignores his friend, he will get bored and eventually leave. minho watches his friend pick up and put down his phone several times to the point where minho feels irritated by it.

“so?” minho starts

“so?” jisung repeats

“going to tell me what's happened? haven't seen you this down in a while.”

“nope. i'm good.”

“you can't keep moping around the place, jisung.”

“i can and i will.” minho groans and stands up, walking out of the bedroom. jisung mentally cheers only for it to be cut short when minho throws his jacket at jisung.

“put it on.” it's more of a demand than a sentence, but nonetheless, jisung obliges because if he doesn't, minho will force it on him.

“where are we going?”

“to the cafe.” minho puts on his shoes, jisung following suit.

“aah, dude.. i don't really fe–”

“shut up, we're going to the cafe whether you want to or not. a change of scenery might cheer your moody ass up because, to be quite honest, i’m tired of seeing your gloomy ass face.” he looks at jisung who is frowning at him. “in the nicest way possible, of course.”

jisung rolls his eyes before following minho to the local (and one of his favourite) cafes. 

it's a small, local café with an old fashioned sense of style to it. the tables and chairs are worn. cushions on the chairs losing their stuffing and the tables scratched and chipped. the décor is outdated, indicating that the café has been there for quite a few years; but it feels like home to some.

the bell above the door chimes as minho and jisung walk in. they walk to the counter and say their orders before taking their lunch and drinks and sitting at a table.

jisung takes a sip of the coffee. he feels the ice cold beverage trickling down his esophagus and into his empty stomach. minho munches on his chicken salad sandwich, watching his friend look in his drink and ponder.

“i fucked up.” jisung mumbles, lost in thought. the more he thinks about you, the more he can feel the tears threaten to spill down his cheeks. minho tilts his head to the side and as he is about to open his mouth and encourage his friend to continue, a familiar sound in the form of a laugh causes jisung's head to shoot up and look in that direction.

his eyes widen. he feels relief and happy to see a smile finally on your face; but then that same, the green monster in the form of jealousy parks itself on his shoulder and starts whispering in his ear.

minho watches jisung's jaw muscles clench. his facial expression goes from relief to jealousy. minho follows jisung's gaze and raises his brow at the sight of you and chan.

chan is being his usual, goofy self. he's telling you typical dad jokes and being a little grotest by telling you his latest hook-up details. you push him by the arm and roll your eyes, sipping your coffee in the process. chan continues to joke around with you, play fighting a little by wrapping his arm around the back of your neck loosely and rubbing the top of your head with his knuckles.

“i can't fucking stand this.” jisung mutters bitterly under his breath. minho turns and looks at his friend who is green with jealousy.

“stand what?”

“seeing someone as precious and innocent as yn be with someone like chan!” minho blinks a few times.

“what do you… jisung, what do you think yn and chans relationship is?”

“isnt it obvious? they're going out!” minho gives jisung a few blank stares and blinks before bursting out into laughter, choking on his own saliva in the process. “what?!” 

jisungs cheeks flush red with embarrassment but also with anger. his own friend laughing at his statement, finding amusement in his sorrows.

“are you serious? please tell me you're joking?” minho stutters through his giggles.

“dead serious.” jisung says, deadpan. “don't you see the way they are with each other? i saw you all the other day, in the cafeteria! chan's arm around yn and them being all…. lovey!!” 

“oh my god.” minho calms himself down. “you really are serious!”

“i told you! i even asked yn about it and well… it didn't go so well.”

“is that why you've been so moody and upset lately?” jisung nods his head slowly, feeling some type of guilt. minho sighs heavily, wondering how he can soften the blow of the news he's about to give his best friend.

“jisung…” minho starts. “yn and chan are not dating.” jisung's face drops.

“excuse me?”

“they're not dating. they're just childhood best friends. apparently they've known each other since they were kids. “

“so you're telling me.. that i got it all wrong when i saw you three in the cafeteria?“ minho slowly nods whilst giving a sympathetic smile. jisung sits back in his seat in disbelief. “why did chan never mention yn?! fuck, i fucked up… i really, really fucked up…” 

“oh, c’mon. it can't be that bad.” minho tries to lighten the situation.

“dude. i told her i thought she had standards! i called her best friend a whore!”

“i mean, chan is a whore. he knows he is and he doesn't hid–”

“dude, please.” jisung interrupts. “not right now.” minho shrugs and sips his coffee whilst jisung rubs his face whilst groaning. “what do i do?”

“well.” minho puts down his coffee. “you make it right. admit you were in the wrong. explain how you were a jealous lil guy because you like her and that you fucked up.”

“and how do i do that? she’s been avoiding me for weeks and it’s not like i can go up to her right now and be like oh hey yn, sorry i called your best friend a whore oh, by the way, i like you.” jisung mocks himself in a high pitched voice, his face turning red in frustration.

“you're so dramatic.” minho rolls his eyes with a soft, yet heavy sigh. “for a smart guy, you're pretty dumb too.”

“pft, am not!” jisung scoffs and folds his arms across his chest. “... only when it comes to stuff like this.” he mumbles. “i just… don't know what to do or how to fix it. i really, really like her, minho.”

“ok? and? what do you want me to do about it? there's no point telling me about your feelings for yn. i'm not the one that fucked up and then decided to hold myself up in my room to drown in my own self-pity.” minho says with a shrug.

to the outside world, minho's words sound harsh but to jisung, it's a reality check. 

he sighs softly for the nth time as he glances over at you. he watches you laugh and smile with chan, soaking in your beauty and the way you glow with happiness. 

“to make it easier for you.” minho breaks the few seconds of silence between the two, feeling a little responsible for his friend in need. “i may have mentioned your birthday party to yn.”

“what?! why?”

“bro, you weren't going to mention it! so i just.. did you a favour.” minho shrugs, a smug look on his face.

“... is she coming?”

minho shrugs. “dunno. she seemed interested at least but this was before you called her best friend a whore so–”

“that was an accident. i didn't mean to.. i just got too–”

“worked up? jealous perhaps?” minho says, or rather states, with a raised brow. jisung hums and nods his head slowly, teeth chewing on his bottom lip. 

minho chews on his straw as he watches his friend think. he can see the cogs turning in jisung's skull. jisung is inexperienced when it comes to relationships so seeing him like this, brings minho slight amusement.

“look, jisung. if she turns up, you approach her and apologise whilst also telling her how you feel.” minho holds his hand up to jisung who is just about to protest but is quick to close his mouth and listen. “if she doesn't turn up, you find her the next day, apologise and tell her how you feel. heck, text her if you have to!”

“dude… you know i can't do that!”

“ok. then you have the other option, which is to keep wallowing in your self pity and watch yn from the sidelines.” minho shrugs. “i don't know dude. be the main character for once. you clearly like her so take the chance.”

────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──

jisung's birthday rolled around. you haven't heard nor spoken to him since the argument so you didn't originally plan on turning up to his birthday party; but chan being chan is forcing you to go as his plus one.

“is this ok?” you smooth down your party outfit as you present yourself to chan. chan is sitting at your dressing table, dressed in blue, skinny jeans, a compression shirt that hugs and molds his muscles and combat boots. a silver chain around his neck, earrings in one ear and a few rings on his fingers.

he looks up from his phone and smirks playfully. he wolf whistles at you to which you scoff and roll your eyes at.

“looking good there, yn.”

“really? i threw this together at the last minute.’

“you look great, don't worry. you're gonna knock ‘em dead.” chan laughs.

“i really don't want to go, chan.” you groan.

“weeeell, too late. you're coming with me to this party, even if i have to throw you over my shoulder and carry you there.”

chan has heard about your little argument with jisung from minho. the two of them had a drink together during the week and chan listened to minho vent about jisung.

once minho mentioned the fight did it all come together. you've been feeling down and withdrawn, not knowing what to do or how to deal with your feelings. you've put on a fake smile and basically faked your way through the weeks–but chan has known you for years so he can see through you, he just didn't want to press you.

you'll come to him when the time is right; you always do.

“do i have to?” you ask for the nth time whilst putting on your shoes. chan laughs at your contradicting actions and shakes his head before standing up.

“yes, you do. it'll be fun and hopefully, it'll lift your spirits.” you pout.

“i have been a little moody lately, haven't i?” chan raises his brows and scoffs.

“a little!? pur-lease! i thought knives were going to spawn out of your eyes at one point.”

“mhm.. i’m sorry chan. it's just been a long couple of weeks with a lot of thinking.” you sigh softly. chan elbows your side gently.

“hey. let's not think about that right now. let's go to this party, have a couple of drinks and a dance, yeah?” you nod slowly.

“not like i have a say in this.”

“that's my girl. now.” chan grabs your hand gently and pulls you to the front door. “let's go have some fuuuun!!!”

────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──

it's loud. the bass of the music rings in your ears and shakes the ground beneath you.

it smells. the stench of stale cigarettes, sweat and alcohol tickles your nostrils and causes you to feel lightheaded and nauseous.

you've tried several times to turn away and head back but chan was always right there.

chan abandoned you to go chat up some girls so you're sat on the sofa, surrounded by people making out, drinking or passing out (if they haven't already)

you hold your red, plastic solo cup which is filled halfway with some punch. the smell is pungent and the taste is awful. it's too strong for your liking so you take small, delicate sips.

as the night rolls on, you have yet to see jisung. not that you want to but, it would help you feel some comfort and less suffocated to see a familiar face.

you glance at your phone screen. 11:20 pm. it's soon time for you to leave. you don't want to be here any longer than you have to and considering that chan has left you alone, you don't feel the need to be here any more.

you stand up from the couch to walk to the kitchen. you shimmy your way in and out of crowds of people who are dancing, talking or making out with someone that they won't remember tomorrow.

you pour your drink down the sink and throw away your empty cup. as you're about to turn and leave, a familiar voice is heard from behind.

“yn. hi.”

you turn on your heels and a sense of relief washes over you as you come face to face with a face you've been longing to see (even if you don't want to admit it)

you forget why you're so angry at him for a split second. his beauty never fails to make you feel star struck and silently go “wow.” but then you remember.

“hi.” you reply coldly.

“can i talk to you?” he shouts, hoping his voice isn't drowned out by the music.

“not right now. i was just about to leave.” you walk past him to leave. jisung grabs your arm gently to stop you. you look at him and he is quick to remove his hand.

“please? just… let me explain…” he chews his bottom lip, his brows scrunched together in the middle. you think for a second and sigh softly, nodding slowly.

“ok. fine. but make it quick.” you swear you see the corner of jisung's lips curl into a subtle smile, his eyes lighting up a little. he beckons you to follow him so you do.

you follow him outside. compared to inside, where it's hot and humid, the harsh, cold night air is refreshing and soothes your damp skin.

“look.” he starts as he stops walking to turn to you. “i know i was a complete asshole.” you scoff but don't say anything. “it's just… aah fuck, how do i say this.”

you watch jisung slowly become flustered. the tips of his ears turn red, his hands clammy as he shakes a little. he shuffles on his feet to shift his weight and avoids eye contact with you.

“fuck.. this is so hard… minho said it'd be easy once i get talking but fuck minho.” jisung rambles to himself. the anger you felt slowly disappears and is replaced with… joy? 

your stomach feels a little bubbly and tingly with excitement as you watch this nerd, whom you've grown so accustomed to, become easily flustered and shy because of you.

“just say what's on your mind, jisung.” you say with a shrug. his eyes flicker at you for a second before looking to the ground.

“ok.. well…” he takes a deep breath. ”i like you and i always have and the reason why i got so pissed and called chan a whore, who i later found out was your childhood best friend, was because i was jealous of how close he was to you and i saw red and i didn't mean it. in fact, i've been cooped up in my bedroom in my own self-pity because i'm a coward and i don't deserve someone as wonderful as you and i’m really sorry. can you forgive me for being a lil silly?”

you blink at him several times. jisung dared take a breath during his little speech so all the information that has suddenly been laid on you, isn't going through your head right now.

“ah fuck.. i fucked up again, haven't i?” jisung shakes, his voice wavering as it breaks the tension in the air. his nerves shaking his body as a shaky hand picks at the skin around his fingernails. “god i knew i shouldn't have said anything. why did i take minho's dumb advice.”

“i… i don't know what to say, jisung. it's all so much.” you say in pure shock.

“oh, that's ok! i’m not looking for an answer right now. please, take your time. i just wanted you to know my true feelings and why i acted out. the last thing i want is for you to feel forced.”

“so let me get this straight. the reason you acted out is because you got jealous of chan, thinking that we were dating?” you watch jisung slowly nod his head, his cheeks turning pink; whether that's from embarrassment or from the harsh cold air. “and that you.. like me?”

jisung nods again. “silly, right?” he laughs, trying to soothe himself of the raging anxiety that's heavy in his heart and stomach.

“no.. no! not at all. i think it's kinda… cute.” 

“cute?”

“yeah. i mean, well, being away from you has got me thinking about me, you and well.. us and how i feel.” jisung walks closer to you, closing the gap between you both.

“and how do you feel, yn?” you swallow a little. the atmosphere has suddenly shifted between you both. jisung is close to you, his body daring to press against you.

you can see every detail of his honey skin under the faint moonlight. the cold breeze sweeps between his hair strands. a faint hint of cinnamon and apple from his aftershave tickles and hugs your nose making you inhale deeply for more.

“at first, i was angry at you. i didn't understand why you were so angry. but i spoke to chan about it and during the conversation, he made me realise something.”

“what?” jisung encourages. he gingerly places his hands on your waist, unsure and testing the waters. his touch is as light as a feather and when you don't push him away, his grip becomes firm. 

“that maybe, i like you too and i have for the longest time. i just never realised it because i thought you hated me but, when we spent all that time together, i started to notice the smallest of things about you and i found them to be so cute. but they're cute because it's you.” 

you slowly run your hands up his chest to his shoulder. his breath hitches and body trembles from your touch. with more confidence, jisung pulls your body flush against his own, closing the gap completely.

“so, you like me too?” his voice dips to a whisper. you hum and nod slowly. “do you have any idea how happy that makes me?”

“why don't you show me.” you whisper against his lips, teasing him by brushing yours against his slowly and gently. they feel soft and plump, kissable even. 

“you're playing a dangerous game, yn. you have no idea how long i've wanted you.”

“show me.” you whisper again, furthering your teasing by ever so lightly licking his bottom lip with the tip of your tongue.

“fuck.” jisung groans. his lips crash against yours in a heated kiss that's filled with longing. your eyes widen a little but are quick to flutter close. you melt into the kiss, the both of you becoming synchronised instantly.

you tilt your head to the side a little to allow jisung to deepen the kiss. he licks your bottom lip and you part your lips slowly.

his tongue slides in to meet yours and you're in a battle of dominance that you lose. jisung's hot kisses make you melt and crave for more. you forget about your surroundings, forget where you are. everything is a buzz in your ears and you can only focus on you, jisung and how your body is tingling and twitching.

jisung is the first to pull away. he pants heavily, his own body trembling with excitement. 

“wow.” you hum in agreement. as soon as his lips are off yours, you want them back on you again; whether that's on your own lips or on your body, you don't care as long as you get to feel the softness again.

“is this real?” he asks.

“it's real.” you respond, giggling softly. “and i’m not drunk either so.”

“so, what does this make us?” jisung cautiously asks. he wants to have an idea of what you two are slowly becoming. he wants to make sure you're both on the same page.

“whatever you want us to be, jisung.”

“well, i want you to be mine. i want to show you off to the world, proudly. i want everyone to know that you belong to me. i want to spend every single second of the day with you and during the night, i want to spend every single second caressing your body from head to toe. i want to soak myself in every single bit of detail from your body. i want to drown you in pleasure and my love.” 

you swallow and let out a small, shaky breath at the implications behind his words. your body trembles with excitement and anticipation from where tonight is going to end and for the future with jisung.

“then.. shall we go ditch the party and go back to mine? because i want that too.” with a fast nod of the head, jisung holds your hand and is quick to make way to yours.

“let's go and let's be quick. i want to make you mine, in more ways than one.”

[rhaenicentpilled]

here it iss

1. whats your favorite thing in your room? The bed Duh.

2. how tall do you wish you were? Something around 165/170 maybe.

3. what color is your hair? Brown but not virgin anymore :’(

4. whats a rare fear that you have? Im a sheep even in my fears so nothing out of norm fears.

5. are you single? As a dollar bill baby (heard this from a JT song).

6. has your heart ever been broken? By love? No.

7. what was your favorite thing as a kid? Reading!

8. favorite coping mechanism? Dk actually.

9. whats your favorite love language? To receive? Word of affirmation, to give physical touch maybe.

10. how often do you get nervous? A Lot!

11. if you had three wishes, would you use them? Yes obviously but I would overthink them a loooot that the genie would probably ditch me.

12. if you could be fluent in any language which one would it be? LATIN! Because I would love to be fluent is something as ancient but also more basic answers like Spanish which im alr learning, something from south Asia like Tamil, something from east Asia like Korean or Chinese, something from Africa like i want to know all languages.

13. where do you wish to live? Everywhere all at once, but maybe somewhere by the beach but still city populated you know?

14. what’s something surprising about you? Not sure really. 😅

15. when did you last shower? Today!

16. when did you first join tumblr? Way back then but I keep deleting accounts and coming back.

17. do you want any tattoos? if so, where, what, and why? Yess, i would love a sleeve, maybe a tramp stamp, definitely something on the thigh so basically a sketchbook vibe. No real idea about the actual tattoos nor their significance lol.

18. whats the most prominent dream youve had? Currently thankfully im not dreaming about anything prominent but I used to dream about malls a lot ( yes shopping malls, literally every dream..).

19. whats your dream job? Something well paying, not a desk, something I enjoy, now its just up to capitalism to makeup a job for me.

20. whats your ideal date? Cinema /dinner duo never disappoints I feel but its too first-datey so idk.

21. what do you wish you could do better? Self discipline.

22. what country would you live in if you could? Again everywhere but no country in particular i feel a draw to.

23. whos the best person you know? Cringe answer im legally obliged to say my family and friends.

24. have you ever walked into something you shouldnt have? No? Thankful.

25. whats your favorite holiday? Summer break because its the longer break, but winter/spring for the actual festivities and having fun.

26. when have you been most embarrassed? Last week when i had a presentation and i felt my voice going ooOoOoo Not fun.

27. whats your favorite halloween costume? Dont celebrate Halloween myself, but for people I love either really weird costumes or really slutty ones.

28. what are you best at? Dk 🫣

29. do you know how to tie your shoes? Yup! I do the bow/ bunny ears one.

30. do you have siblings? Yup! Im a middle child lets keep it at that.

31. if you could know one thing about the future what do you wanna know? Weird answer but hows earth as a whole doing :) I love my little rock.

32. whats a dealbreaker for you? If we dont vibe, like realllly dont. I usually have a decent enough read of people so yeah thats a dealbreaker.

33. whats your favorite current class? Something about AI and business, the lecturer is doing too much but the course is fun.

34. how many people have you dated? 0, unfortunately my hair is the only non virgin thing in me.

35. how often do you wash your hair? Once a week, twice if its being really difficult.

36. do you daydream? what about? Yes, usually about my latest celeb crush :)

37. where do you go to be alone? My bed Duh.

38. which parent do you like more? Legally obliged to say Mom. sorry dad!

39. whats the one standard you hold yourself to? To never be stick in the mud, to be constantly curious and active brain wise and i think im doing good so far.

40. whos voice do you enjoy? Music wise? a lot of singers, i dont even mind listening to annoying ones when their instrumentals are beautiful im not picky with it.

41. if you could announce one thing to the world what would it be? From the river to the sea Palestine will be free, every tyrant need to hear that :)

42. whats one thing you wanna do but havent yet? Diving!

43. what do you wish you never did? Actually idk but i dont like living a life of regrets so maybe i just wiped it from my brain

44. do you believe in life after death? Yes.

45. do you prefer book over movie? Yes absolutely because i love imagining worlds plucked from authors minds however with the declining of book qualities i reach for movies when i want something to engage me.

46. whats your favorite season? Spring.

47. whats your favorite time of day? Early morning till early afternoon, then late afternoon till 8 also late nights duhh.

48. do you have a beloved stuffed animal? I do have a precious polar bear from Jellycat, a gray kitty gifted by my precious friend and a bunch of others i dont sleep with them.

49. whens a time you wish you acted differently? My entire childhood but again whats the point of regrets now yolo!

50. what’s something you wish that you never bought? Me regreting a purchase? Please bffr. I do thankfully never regret buying stuff i love buying stuff! Or maybe when i spend the last bit of money of something thats not a necessity i regret it until i get money again

51. do you have your own room? Sorta kinda.

52. whats your favorite book? A poetry collection called “bless the daughter raised by a voice in her head”. Beautifully crafted and i reread it every year on my bday!

53. who’s someone you hate? Everyone but also not nearly enough people 😇.

54. whats your best hottake? Again im a sheep with these takes, but idk i truly think the losses of communities between people is the loss of us as humans.Cold ass take

55. whats your favorite game? On phone, candy crush a suburban mom at heart, a video game is probably Zelda. Dont mind ive been stuck on botw for literal years.

56. whens a time you felt real genuine fear? When the panic attacks hits ha!

57. are you a morning person? 6am morning? No. 10 am morning? Yes.

58. do you drink enough water? No but this reminded me so thx x.

59. how different are you from the little kid you used to be? A lot more outspoken and confident!

60. do you enjoy tumblr? Well ive been back for a less than a week so give me time to hate it again.

61. have you ever had a tumblr experience that made you wanna delete the app? No.

62. whats your least favorite game? bayonetta not because its a bad game because its so hard i gave up.

63. were you a markiplier fan? No, my knowledge of him is his face and name.

64. how do you respond to compliments? Blush and immediately fire it back to them.

65. whats something that would make you fall in love? Im hopeless romantic at heart i dont think it’ll take much.

66. do you believe in marriage? The eternal commitment of one soul to another absolutely, the more boring societal enforced parts nope

67. do you have a crush on someone? Rn? Nope.

68. do you like tumblr? Meh, hardly top 3 sm apps imo. idk how ppl just mainly use it. Is it the nostalgia be honest

69. were you a voltron stan? No i was normal 😊

70. whats your favorite ship? Look at my user! Rhaenicent my beloved doomed yuri

71. whats your favorite song? Rn? Roc Steady by Megan Thee Stallion ft. Flo Milli.

72. do you like loud crowds? Impartial leaning to no.

73. have you ever created conflict on purpose? Yup! Favourite pastime 😈

74. how do you sleep? On my back, or either sides no real preference.

75. do you bite your lips? Haha yes, was doing it just now.

76. do you use chapstick? Yup!

77. do you have any pets? Noo :(

78. what color are your eyes? Brown! Supremacy.

79. what’s something you wish you could change about yourself? Nah we are not doing that, i love myself as it is, physically or otherwise 🫶

80. have you ever had surgery? Thankfully no!

81. whats your least favorite animal? Scared of anything that isnt a trained pet so its a broad category.

82. whats something that youre really bad at? Not to toot my own horn but nothing? I can’t remember anything really and i feel if i wanted something to do i would be Ok at whatever i wished!

83. do you have an sqishmellows? I have a tiny squid thats two faced.

84. do you enjoy fast food? Guilty.

85. do you like soda? Guiltyyyy.

86. what grade are you in? University sophomore baby.

87. do you wear any jewelry? My earrings and nose ring always, and bracelets and necklaces depending on the day.

88. what socials do you use? In order of most usage, Twitter, Tiktok, IG, tumblr now made the list ( i have discord and reddit but i dont really use them).

89. whats your lowest grade in school right now? If im not careful im looking at a scathing C oops.

90. whats the latest youve stayed up till? Yesterday till 7 am oops.

91. did you ever have bangs? Yess, love the buildup to getting them, then you get them and the regrets set it, mine are finally normal length now.

92. what trends did you hate? Any of 20-22 trends really in clothing specifically but the online spaces as a whole sucked then lol.

93. whats your favorite item of clothing? Shirts!

94. do you like dinosaurs? birds weird ancestors. Absolutely!

95. whats your opinion on body hair? Its alright, its there its your body just like i dont have an opinion on peoples bodies, the hair is included.

96. whats your least favorite time? Noon but only for the heat.

97. do you make a wish at 11:11? When i catch the time yes why not a cute superstition.

98. do you have your phone on military or regular? Regular, be normal yall…

99. have you ever been to church? No! Been to another place of worship though.

100. are you lgbtq? Duh im a queer!

ask game

1. whats your favorite thing in your room?

2. how tall do you wish you were?

3. what color is your hair?

4. whats a rare fear that you have?

5. are you single?

6. has your heart ever been broken?

7. what was your favorite thing as a kid?

8. favorite coping mechanism?

9. whats your favorite love language?

10. how often do you get nervous?

11. if you had three wishes, would you use them?

12. if you could be fluent in any language which one would it be?

13. where do you wish to live?

14. what’s something surprising about you?

15. when did you last shower?

16. when did you first join tumblr?

17. do you want any tattoos? if so, where, what, and why?

18. whats the most prominent dream youve had?

19. whats your dream job?

20. whats your ideal date?

21. what do you wish you could do better?

22. what country would you live in if you could?

23. whos the best person you know?

24. have you ever walked into something you shouldnt have?

25. whats your favorite holiday?

26. when have you been most embarrassed?

27. whats your favorite halloween costume?

28. what are you best at?

29. do you know how to tie your shoes?

30. do you have siblings?

31. if you could know one thing about the future what do you wanna know?

32. whats a dealbreaker for you?

33. whats your favorite current class?

34. how many people have you dated?

35. how often do you wash your hair?

36. do you daydream? what about?

37. where do you go to be alone?

38. which parent do you like more?

39. whats the one standard you hold yourself to?

40. whos voice do you enjoy?

41. if you could announce one thing to the world what would it be?

42. whats one thing you wanna do but havent yet?

43. what do you wish you never did?

44. do you believe in life after death?

45. do you prefer book over movie?

46. whats your favorite season?

47. whats your favorite time of day

48. do you have a beloved stuffed animal?

49. whens a time you wish you acted differently?

50. what’s something you wish that you never bought?

51. do you have your own room?

52. whats your favorite book?

53. who’s someone you hate?

54. whats your best hottake?

55. whats your favorite game?

56. whens a time you felt real genuine fear?

57. are you a morning person?

58. do you drink enough water?

59. how different are you from the little kid you used to be?

60. do you enjoy tumblr?

61. have you ever had a tumblr experience that made you wanna delete the app?

62. whats your least favorite game?

63. were you a markiplier fan?

64. how do you respond to compliments?

65. whats something that would make you fall in love?

66. do you believe in marriage?

67. do you have a crush on someone?

68. do you like tumblr?

69. were you a voltron stan?

70. whats your favorite ship?

71. whats your favorite song?

72. do you like loud crowds?

73. have you ever created conflict on purpose?

74. how do you sleep?

75. do you bite your lips?

76. do you use chapstick?

77. do you have any pets?

78. what color are your eyes?

79. what’s something you wish you could change about yourself?

80. have you ever had surgery?

81. whats your least favorite animal?

82. whats something that youre really bad at?

83. do you have an sqishmellows?

84. do you enjoy fast food?

85. do you like soda?

86. what grade are you in?

87. do you wear any jewelry?

88. what socials do you use?

89. whats your lowest grade in school right now?

90. whats the latest youve stayed up till?

91. did you ever have bangs?

92. what trends did you hate?

93. whats your favorite item of clothing?

94. do you like dinosaurs?

95. whats your opinion on body hair?

96. whats your least favorite time?

97. do you make a wish at 11:11?

98. do you have your phone on military or regular?

99. have you ever been to church?

100. are you lgbtq?

[honeytonedhottie]

honey's it girl magazine november edition⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🎀

welcome back to honeys it girl magazine, this is the november catalog. get ready for the inside scoop on data that i've collected, things i've learned/started doing, and just general info like that organized in kind of a teen-magazine inspired fashion.

before we go any further i'd love to thank you all for the wonderful year we've had of it girls magazine, writing every catalog is SUCH a joy and im glad that u guys like it to. i'll continue to work on the magazine and make it more enjoyable for u all. i hope that as the magazine grows and evolves i'll have more lovely girlbloggers featured in my catalogs. this is THEE magazine for it girls ✨ and now please enjoy, the it girl magazine.

THE HISTORY OF HELLO KITTY ;

hello kitty was born in the suburbs of london. she lives with her parents and her twin sister mimmy who is her bff. her hobbies include baking cookies and making new friends. as she always says, “you can never have too many friends”. but what else is there to know about this 3 apples tall ray of sunshine? SOOO much actually which is why i decided to write about hello kitty’s history.

hello kitty was created by the japanese company sanrio in 1974. she was initially designed by yuko shimizu. hello kitty quickly became emblematic of the cute culture in japan and a global symbol of nostalgia and girliness. hello kitty’s representation of girliness played such an important role in defining and popularizing kawaii culture in japan. hello kitty became a subtle statement of empowerment in the 1970s and 80’s.

the average apple is 3 inches tall. take your height in inches and divide it by three to find out how many apples tall you are! im 21 apples tall…💬🎀

during the 70's and 80's expectations for women were shifting, and with this context hello kitty emerged not only as an adorable kitty but as an emblem of a new type of femininity—one that embraced softness and strength simultaneously. hello kitty is associated with things like happiness and joy. in the 21st century, hello kitty’s presence in pop culture exploded.

a lot of celebrities are seen with hello kitty items, hello kitty collaborated with high-fashion brands, artists etc. they all appreciated her mix of innocence and global acclaim. and i think that the fact that shes maintained her grip on society even now says so much! hello kitty just RESONATES.

and honestly, hello kitty's longevity is a testament to her universal appeal. over the decades, hello kitty has gone from being just a character to becoming a pop culture icon that resonates with people of all ages and regions of the world. whether it’s a child picking out their first hello kitty backpack or an adult rocking a limited-edition hello kitty x gucci collection, she bridges generations with her timeless charm 💖

the success of hello kitty has a lot to do with her straightforward yet unmistakably unique design. her iconic bow, the lack of a mouth—on purpose, so that she can "speak from the heart"—and her endless versatility only cement hello kitty as an open canvas for self-expression. she’s playful, she’s nostalgic, she’s even edgy, depending on how she’s styled or reimagined.

hello kitty became a symbol of softness and femininity because she showed that being gentle and kind could still be powerful. when she was created in the 70s, women were stepping into new roles, and hello kitty stood for a new kind of strength—which wasn’t about being loud or aggressive but about connection, joy, and kindness.

SELF GRATITUDE. YOU'RE SO AMAZING ;

gratitude is a feeling thats really emphasized during november and i think that we should always be most grateful to ourselves! no one puts as much effort or loves u as much as u do. so lets take some time to appreciate ourselves and everything that we've done for ourselves as 2024 comes to an end.

take a moment to recognize everything that you've achieved this year, challenges that you've overcome and things that you've done for yourself this year to create a better more glamorous life for yourself. dont forget to say thank you and celebrate yourself cuz ur literally so cute and amazing and capable 💕

some ways that u can celebrate yourself and show gratitude towards yourself include…💬🎀

♡ pamper yourself with a spa day ♡ book that appointment you wanted ♡ write a love letter to yourself ♡ buy yourself a bouquet of flowers

PREPPING FOR A SUCCESSFUL YEAR ;

2025 is right around the corner so we should prepare and set ourselves up for success in this new year. so to start off prep for the next year we should make a MANIFESTATION list. title the list "2025" and write down everything that u want to manifest that year in a list fashion.

an important aspect of setting urself up for success in the new year is to reflect on the year we just had. reflect on your year so that u can see what u accomplished this year/what u can do better in the next year…💬🎀

i break up my year into 4 quarters (each lasting 3 months) that way i can see my year broken up and i have a clear plan and i can be organized. quarter one (january - march) quarter two (april - june) so on and so forth. and after every quarter i do a little analysis. and finally wrap up some things projects, assignments and things of that nature so that u can go into the next year on a clean slate.

WHAT THE IT GIRLS ARE LISTENING TO ;

first im gonna start off by talking about txt's new album SANCTUARY cuz if u guys didn't know im a moa 🙈. i LOVED everything about this album, the concept EVERYTHING. my favorite song on the album is 41 winks and over the moon is also incredible, i loved all the songs!! literally u cant name one bad song txts ever released cuz it doesnt fucking exist their discography is perfect. 10/10. i highly recommend giving it a listen if u have not.

tyla also released push to start and the music video is just a work of ART. tyla has been consistently giving us hit after hit, shes so incredibly talented and i LOVE push to start. i love the choreography also, but something that i love the MOST about this music video is the fashion like HELLO?? tyla rocked tiny tops and big boots in this music video and im lowkey living for it. the fringes in her tiny top in the opening scene, her teensy denim shorts that she leaves unbuttoned to show off her blinged out panties like YES.

THE ADVICE COLUMN ;

Hi! Question for the advice column. I'm going on a trip for my birthday to a retreat, with a group of 10 friends in a couple of weeks. It's only 3 days but I am so excited. I am in a part of the world where it's summer right now, so my question is: what are your essentials for a summer trip? Swimming gear, accessories, skincare etc, I'm planning all my outfits in advance, so any advice is appreciated. Thank you! 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

❤︎ SPF (between 30-50)

❤︎ lacy/frilly bikinis and swimsuits. they make u look like an absolute beach doll 🍬✨

❤︎ a yummy body butter + body shimmer (during the summer, we show lots of skin so its important to stay moisturized like a glazed doughnut and also to sparkle like the star u are)

❤︎ as for clothing i typically opt for tube tops, mini skirts, sundresses and things of that nature. i LOVE summer fashion

❤︎ blinged out water tumbler for fashionable hydration 💦 and ofc a portable mini fan

Do you know how to make yourself look more exotic/tropical in appearance? Like I want to look like a tropical mermaid - cotton candy doll

❤︎ use a bit of shimmery bronzer on ur cheekbones and collarbones to achieve that glowy sun kissed look

❤︎ when i think of cotton candy key west kitten doll i think of BEACHY WAVES and bubblegum pink lips so braiding ur hair overnight can help you to achieve beachy waves in the morning, and invest in a bubble gum pink/glossy coral colored lipgloss (i recommend candy baby 🍭 from victorias secret)

❤︎ use fragrances with notes of fruit and coconut

NOVEMBER TRENDS ;

one of my favorite trends this november is the women in male dominated fields trend. its been all over my tiktok and essentially the trend is just women behaving the way many men of today behave towards women and giving them a taste of their own toxic medicine.

this trend reminds me a lot of ciara's song "like a boy". some of my FAVORITE moments from this trend are as follows…💬🎀

♡ when hes pouring his heart out in front of me and i start practicing my jumpshot mid-argument

♡ when hes got tears running down his face explaining to me why my actions hurt him but i just ask him "why are u with me then" and carry on with my day

♡ when he catches me in a lie but i just hit him with the "alright believe what u want"

this trend puts into perspective the toxic and dismissive behaviors that are becoming more and more common and that are normalized in relationships, now that the roles are reversed. it also serves as a reminder of how important mutual respect and empathy are in any relationship.

[deathbxnny]

Hi I just wanted to say I loved the arcane adhd headcannons u wrote, the viktor one made me cry bc I want to be seen like that sooo bad. Do u think u could do some more characters? No pressure tho ur an amazing writer

Arcane characters with an S/o who has ADHD. | Caitlyn, Jinx, Ekko x Gn!Reader

(Previous part)

Aww, I'm so happy to hear that you enjoyed the last part, anon! I hope this is to your liking as well!<33

Content: Fluff, ADHD, established romantic relationships, sfw

Reader has no mentioned pronouns.

((Not proofread))

》CAITLYN

She noticed from the start that you were a little different from everyone else. Not that she necessarily cared much about it. You were still you after all, and your diagnosis is just a part of you she considers endearing.

With that said, Caitlyn always listens to your needs very closely and does everything in her power to help you out with them. She'll get you anything you ask for in hopes of making life easier for you. Whether it's medical help or just something to help with your fidgeting in general, you'll have it in no time with her.

Cait can, therefore, come off as kind of overbearing or overprotective at first. She wants you to lead a smooth and successful life, so she'll always be around to make any task doable for you. Procrastination does not exist when she's there, to say the least.

Her patience is an important part of your relationship that's practically invaluable. Your fidgety and unfocused nature took a moment for her to get used to, but she never makes a big deal out of it. Instead, she simply adapts to your needs and learns to cherish them as well.

》JINX

Probably the most understanding out of everyone, albeit in the most chaotic way possible. You two are a rather troubling duo, as she herself isn't in the best position to help you out properly. Her ideas are always outlandish yet somehow still work out in the end anyways, which is rather impressive.

You're both very fidgety, but she makes up for it with her hyper awareness. Procrastination is never a thing with her, considering how focused she always is on every project she has and so it becomes somewhat of a normal thing for you to simply work in the same space together, even if it's with just music playing in the background in-between you two.

She's the last person to ever treat you any differently for your diagnosis and doesn't ever let you feel bad for it either. You accept her, and she accepts you. Anyone that tries shaming you for it is as good as dead anyway.

You two learn how to take care of each other better than anyone else ever could. Jinx may not be able to help you out like a professional doctor could, but she'll do anything to help you out no matter what forever.

》EKKO

He doesn't entirely get it at first, mainly as he was always surrounded by people who were rather unique in their own way. But as always with anything, he still does his best to learn everything he needs to about your diagnosis and how he can help you with the resources he has. Which aren't many, but his creativity truly shines at times when it comes to you.

You're not treated any differently from everyone else, and he sure as hell doesn't allow anyone to do that either. You are normal, just with more needs that he tends to carefully. So whether it's your inability to focus well or stay still for a long time, he'll find a way to make things easier. He understands your procrastination and doesn't really push you to do things unless it's very important. But he'll work with you on any projects or missions you may have.

His patience is endless for you and his kindness even more so. He understands if you feel frustrated sometimes and tries his best to soothe you when your emotions are a little harder to process. He'll let you fidget and be yourself as much as you want to, never the type to stop you. You should be yourself around him, and he appreciates how vulnerable you are with that.

Ekko loves you no matter how hard things can get with your diagnosis. He takes every challenge on with ease and never judges you for it either.

[aviad1b]

I have some very mixed feelings about this.

I'll start by saying that I've been talking about the possibility of such a project for a long time now. I considered trying to do it by myself for myself just as a proof of concept.

So TL;DR: I'm conflicted, but in general - a fan?

On the one hand, I can see where David is coming from: yes, extending a language's grammar like that seems kinda... impossible. Especially with Hebrew. People tend to get fixated on these things, and Hebrew doesn't really have this sort of thing naturally.

On the other hand - didn't we ravitalize the whole goddamn language? And yes, it was never truly dead in the first place, not in the way that gentiles like to think of at the very least, but it wasn't developing as much and we changed that.

And also, think about it - how does modern Hebrew handle gender inclusivity at the moment? With notation such as את/ה and רוצים/ות, etc. It wasn't always the case. Think about it, it used to be that to be gender "neutral" you just use the male form. Then developed into masc/fem, then "neutral/fem" (which isn't even a good name for the notation because את/ה exists).

The truth is that while Hebrew is a very "kept" language, very protected, in the sense that it's vocabulary and grammar haven't developed that much in over a millenia - it's also kinda the most evolving, in a sense? In what other language are words still constantly made, constantly developed, all in a way that fits perfectly fine with everything that already exists? I don't really know many languages at all, but comparing to English at the very least, it's seems kinda crazy to me. Hebrew is a very flexible language, and I've been saying that the only way she's not flexible in is gender - why does it have to stay that way?

We proved that we can make major changes to the very way that people speak - or write, at the very least.

When I think about such changes... No, not just changes - developments, in the Hebrew language, I also find my thoughts wondering to something else - gentiles, antisemites especially, like to claim that modern Hebrew is completely different to traditional Hebrew (which is a claim that we all point and laugh at, since modern Hebrew natives can read and understand traditional and even ancient Hebrew perfectly fine). Maybe the reason I'm somewhat conflicted about this is because it will further support this "nerative" (lie) that it's become a different language? But that's dumb, languages develop and involve all the time, Hebrew happened to be a more protected language. Allowing it to be a bit more flexible doesn't make it any less "real". And besides, why should antisemites get to dictate what our language is like? That's just not right at all.

A problem that I still do have with this tho, has to do with vowels. In day-to-day, people don't write vowels in Hebrew. That isn't going to change and I don't think I'd even want it to change honestly. But it does make this more challenging - without vowels, how will one manage to differentiate בַּת from בֶּת , and אַתָּה from אַתֶּה ?

Or maybe that's a good thing? Because it'll make people able to "stealthily" use it, sneak it in without people realising and protesting? But then this isn't really the way I want such a notion to be used, do I?

The thing about developments in general, and in language specifically, is that they come out of need. If Hebrew fails to satisfy the needs of its speakers, what guarantee do we have of it surviving tomorrow? Pardon my pessimism, but being Israeli and Hebrew (yes I still use the old notion of Hebrew as in the ethnicity/people), I see more and more Hebrew natives approaching English more rather than Hebrew. Maybe even including myself - it's kinda my entire blog. I started catching myself thinking in English sometimes - I managed to come to the conclusion that a major part of this is because Hebrew forced me to think of myself in gendered terms. English does not.

This is what I mean when I say on my blog that I love Hebrew but she doesn't love me back

I've seen people use אתם/הם as pronouns in Hebrew. If it works for them then good for them, but to me, I simply cannot accept that this is the "best Hebrew can do". That's... still gendered. It doesn't suffice. I refuse to accept it as enough. It's not.

And yes, a major part of English influence on Hebrew natives (and Jews in general) is the fault of the internet. But, I do feel like there's more to it - for some at least, there's a need that isn't answered.

We Jews are experts at adapting "old", traditional concepts onto whatever the current times are; why should our language be any different? Perhaps we should consider that our very language is more like us than we think?

Can we get people on a major scale to fundamentally change the way in which they speak? probably not. Can we add another gender notion for people who want to use it tho? I'd like to think so. I like to think about it somewhat like neo-pronouns in English: when they were first introduced, almost nobody used them and people in general thought that they were weird. Heck, people STILL do. But it have some people, even if just a few, a new way to finally feel more comfortable with the language that is used for them - and that, on its own, should suffice. In my humble opinion, at least.

To sum it up, while my feelings about this are mixed, I also feel like if ANYONE could achieve such a project - it's us, the Hebrews, the Jews.

And I'm sure we will some day.

I can't believe anything else.

Because Hebrew is a gendered language, the Nonbinary Hebrew Project has created a third grammatical gender system! They are building a bigger tent for nonbinary Jews, guided by Torah and Talmud which teach us to rejoice that which cannot be neatly categorized.

The project is free, open-source, community-based, and grassroots. It lives and grows and changes with every single person who uses and adds to it.

Here are some example usages: Candlelighting Blessing: with gender-expansive God language

בְּרוּךֶ אָתֶה ײַ, אֱלֹהִימוֹתֵינוּ מַלְכֶּת הָעוֹלָם, אֲשֶׁר קִדְשֶׁנוּ בְּמִצְוֹתֶיהֶ וְצִוֶנוּ לְהַדְלִיק נֵר שֶׁל שַבָּת

Bruche ateh Adonai, Elohimoteinu Malket ha’Olam asher kidshenu b’mitzvoteihe, v’tzivenu l’hadlik ner shel Shabbat. Blessed are You, God, Ruler of the universe, who sanctified us with the commandment of lighting Shabbat candles.

~~~

Kiddush: with gender-expansive God language

בְּרוּךֶ אָתֶה ײַ,  אֱלֹהִימוֹתֵינוּ מַלְכֶּת הָעוֹלָם, בּוֹרָאת פְּרִי הַגָּֽפֶן

Bruche ateh Adonai, Elohimoteinu Malket ha’Olam, borat p’ri hagafen. Blessed are you, Lord our God, Ruler of the Universe, who creates the fruit of the vine.

~~~

Blessing over Bread: with gender-expansive God language

בְּרוּךֶ אָתֶה ײַ, אֱלֹהִימוֹתֵינוּ מַלְכֶּת הָעוֹלָם, הַמּוֹצִיאֶה לֶחֶם מִן הָאָרֶץ

Bruche ateh Adonai, Elohimoteinu Malket ha’Olam, Hamotzi'e lechem min ha'aretz. Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the universe, who has brought forth bread from the earth.

~~~

Waking-up Blessing: with gender-expansive language for the speaker, but traditional God language

מודֶת אֲנִי לְפָנֶיךָ מֶלֶךְ חַי וְקַיָּם, שֶׁהֶחֱזַרְתָּ בִּי נִשְׁמָתִי בְּחֶמְלָה, רַבָּה אֱמוּנָתֶךָ:

Modet ani l'fanecha, melech chai v'kayam, shechezarta bi nishmati, b'chemla, raba emunatecha.

I give thanks before you, King living and eternal, for You have returned within me my soul with compassion; abundant is Your faithfulness!

~~~

Morning Blessing substitutions: with gender-expansive language for the speaker, but traditional God language

בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה ה' אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם, שֶׁעָשַׂנִי בֶּת חוֹרין

Baruch Atah Adonai, Eloheinu melech ha-Olam, she-asani bet chorin.

Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the Universe, who has made me free. ~~~

Soulmate Blessing: written by Ariel Ezekiel Tovlev, with gender-expansive language for the speaker's soulmate, but traditional God language

בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְיָ אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם אֲשֶׁר עָשָׂה אֶת יְדִידֶת נַפְשִׁי

Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheinu melech haolam, asher asah et yedidet nafshi. Blessed are You, Ruler of the Universe, who created the companion of my soul.

~~~

Wedding-Enacting Words: with gender-expansive language for the one the speaker is marrying and for the ring, but traditional God language

הרי אתה מקדשה לי, בטבעת זת, כדת משה וישראל

Harei ateh m’kudesheh li, b’tabaet zet, k’dat Moshe v’Yisrael.

Behold, you are sanctified to me, with this ring, according to Moses and Israel. ~~~ For more examples, as well as charts explaining the grammar system, check out the website! A note from Jewish-LGBTQ: The Nonbinary Hebrew Project is primarily being created in the diaspora and is used for ritual purposes; queer communities in Israel have their own system for creating gender-expansive Hebrew. The Nonbinary Hebrew Project should be understood as creating a third grammatical gender for liturgical and ritual Hebrew, rather than for everyday, spoken Modern Hebrew.

[nastybuckybarnes]

Escape Plans

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley X Reader

Summary: Ghost does all he can to stop you from leaving.

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Language,

Word Count: 1.6K

A/n: for @daugherofneptune because yeahhhh sorryy but give your dog another boop for me

~*~

Simon manages to break his personal record with bladder-holding, but eventually, he leaves his quarters to deal with his needs.

For a while he was tempted to re-purpose the garbage can beside his desk, but eventually decided that would probably be a little too messy.

So, after a few more minutes of careful deliberation, he lets you know his plans to leave, then exits his quarters.

The sound of the door closing is all you need to hear to yank the bathroom door open, rushing into the room and quickly getting dressed.

Your fingers tremble as you start executing your plan.

You only have a few minutes before he gets back, and you still need to leave his quarters without being seen.

As quickly as you can, you pile on a few of his heavier sweaters and some extra socks, then shove two pairs of pants on your legs.

An extra balaclava is tucked safely into your pocket, and then you're turning to the door ready to make good your escape.

Unfortunately, your plans are thwarted by the door opening.

Your heart jumps into your throat and your eyes widen when they meet Simon's.

He pauses for a moment, a brow raising.

"Going out?" He asks.

You frown up at him, trying to step around him only for him to mirror you.

"Going," you try, stepping the other way only for him to do the same.

"I see that. Where?"

You huff out an angry breath and glare up at him.

"Anywhere. Any place that is not here. That will be better."

He doesn't say anything, just stares at you.

"I... I go back to city. Safer there."

Simon scoffs and shakes his head, "you don't really believe that, do you?"

Your glare hardens.

"I stay in city for long time and I survive. I don't get hurt. I stay with you for weeks... get hurt many times."

He sighs, dropping his gaze for a moment then reaching toward you, his heart hurting when you step just out of his reach.

"Mouse, I know. And I'm sorry. It won't happen again-"

"No! I don't want to stay. Please."

If his heart hurt before, it's absolutely shattered now.

"It won't be much longer now. Can you hold out for just a little bit? Please."

You cross your arms over your chest and glare at the ground as tears well up in your eyes.

"Why? So that next time you go they can find me again? Hurt me again?"

"That won't happen," he says darkly, "they know, all of them, that nothing comes between you and me."

It's true.

Matthew's screams could be heard even from how far in the forest Ghost had taken him.

When he returned to base with lighter shoulders and blood splattered on his face, nobody even glanced at him for fear of being next.

Simon cups your jaw and the side of your neck with one hand and uses the other hand to push your hair aside.

"M'not gonna lose you, Mouse. Not when 've only just found you."

Your bottom lip starts to wobble and you pull your eyes from his.

"Look at me."

After a few heartbeats, you reluctantly bring your gaze back to his.

Gently, he takes your hand and puts it on his chest.

"This. You feel this in here?" He asks.

You don't answer right away.

No, instead you wait until you feel the rhythmic thumping before you nod.

"That belongs to you, got it?"

You nod at him.

"And you? You belong to me. And you must be outta your mind if you think m'gonna let what's mine walk out like that."

His words make your belly flip and you sigh, leaning your face into his hand.

"I don't like it here," you whisper.

"I know, Mouse. But soon I'll take you away from here. You won't have to worry about any of this ever again, I swear."

You tug your head back a bit and look up at him.

"Where will we go?"

He shrugs, tugging you into a hug and stepping further into the room.

"Anywhere you want. The city, the country, the ocean, the mountains. Wherever you want."

You're quiet for a good few moments before finally snuggling closer to him.

"Fine. But I don't leave."

"Good." That's exactly what he wants.

"No. This room. I don't leave."

Oh. Not what he really wants.

"You're gonna stay in this room for the next several weeks? Mouse, these walls are gonna get borin' to look at."

You slowly pull back to look up at him, and he wonders what he's said to deserve such a bitch-face.

"I live in cage before here. Walls will be fine."

He has no rebuttal.

"Well, I can bring you somethin'. Anythin' to make your stay better... more comfortable. Anythin' you need or want, jus say the word and I'll get it for you."

Your brows draw together.

You don't need anything.

Seeing the look on your face, he's quick to chime in with things he thinks you may like.

"What about more sketchbooks?"

That would be nice.

Slowly you nod.

"I can bring you a tablet, too. S'you can watch movies. We don't exactly have award winners, but some classics'll keep you occupied for the next little while," he rambles.

A frown finds your lips.

"What is tablet?"

Simon chuckles softly, kissing the top of your head tenderly.

"Oh, you're gonna love it. Can get ya almost anything with the touch of a button."

True to his word, he gets you set up with a tablet and several new sketchbooks, and spends a good portion of the afternoon showing you how to work the tablet.

"You'll have restricted access, but you know where to go if you have questions, and where to go if you want to watch movies. If you want anything else, you tell me. Okay?"

You don't say anything, only nod.

The corners of his mouth drop the tiniest bit when he notices the way you're avoiding his eyes once again.

"Mouse... you know that... that I put you down there because I had to. It was the only way for them to believe me. You know that I would never put you through that if there was any other choice, right?"

You nod again, sniffling and turning away from him the tiniest bit.

You know it's not his fault. You know that. You know that if there had been any other way for him to convince his team that you were innocent, he would've done it.

That doesn't change the fact that it was his face behind those bars. His hands that locked the door.

"Look at me. Please."

You flutter your eyes up to his, not bothering to mask the sadness you feel.

"When you go... lock door."

He's a little surprised by your words but nods his understanding.

"I will."

Though it goes directly against the rules, he swapped his door handle with the one on Soap's bathroom door. Prick can earn his privacy back.

Now, there's one added measure between you and the men on base. He wishes it wasn't necessary, but even he can only defend his men for so long.

"I'll lock the door and you open it to no one but me."

"You will bring key."

He blinks a few times before nodding once more.

"I will bring a key. That way you don't have to worry. Only person coming in and out of here will be me."

You look down again, fingers tapping the tablet gently as anxiety eats a hole in your stomach.

Simon's moving before he understands what he's doing, carefully taking off the chain around his neck.

"Here. I want you to have this."

You glance over to him, brows drawing together when he holds his dog tags out to you.

"You'll always have a piece of me. N'you know if you're with me nothin's gonna happen to you."

Though you don't fully understand the meaning of his words, the weight of them is not lost on you. You can feel the importance, the significance.

And so you let him carefully put them on you.

His eyes are focused on where they rest on your chest, on top of your heart.

Carefully, he cups your cheek and slides his thumb over your soft skin.

"You've no idea what you mean to me, Mouse. No idea. Almost wish you coulda been there to see what happened to that prick for what he did."

He means it when he says that, too.

He wishes you could've been there to see exactly what he did to him. Wishes you could've heard his apologies, his pathetic attempts at pleading for his life.

But the last thing he wants is for you to be scared of him.

"What... what did you do?" You ask, looking at him nervously.

His thumb drags over your bottom lip and he sighs.

"A lot. A lot of bad... horrible things. Hurt him real bad. And then I let him die. 'Cause that's what happens to people who hurt you. And I'll never forgive myself for being one of them."

You nod slowly, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth then sighing gently.

"How long until we go home?" You ask after another moment, slowly bringing your hand up to his chest.

"A few weeks. Not much longer, and then it'll be jus' you and me."

Slowly, you nod.

You can do a few more weeks.

A few more weeks, then you start your new life in your new home with your Ghost.

With Simon.

Your Simon.