#i do not know how i came to be under this impression considering the internet acts like 5'3 is the tallest its ever been

[ru5t]

when i made her 5'3" i was under the impression 5'6" was average height and i don't know how i was under that impression unless the internet is currently lying to me specifically about average heights but since 5'3" is apparently. average. i am now staring directly into the deep middle distance contemplating shrinking her.

[cottonlemonade]

Accidental Confession

word count: 1228 || avg. reading time: 5 mins.

pairing: post-time skip!Nishinoya x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff

warnings: spoilers

request: watching Goosebumps, having caramel popcorn while dressed as a pirate (accidental confession) with Noya || fluffy, accidental confession with Noya

Noya leaned closer to the bowl and took a deep, happy sniff of the soup. It was pouring outside and originally he wanted to meet a few new friends to go fishing again but as adventurous as he was, he didn’t feel like catching a cold along with the fish. So, he resigned himself to sitting in the small restaurant he found a few days ago, enjoying a slow afternoon with you and his latest travel companion, Saruta. The little seaside town he had settled in for the time being was a narrow one like someone had pushed a bunch of houses as close to the shore as possible to save space. No building was higher than two stories, a stark contrast to the many impressive metropoles he had seen during his world tour so far. He usually never spent more than a week in one place. He wanted to see as much as possible after all before his sense of duty - as well as his parents - called him back to Japan. But here, in this tiny hamlet with nothing to do after 6 p.m., Noya stayed for almost a whole month now. And all because he met you the minute he stepped off the ferry. Much like his high school self he definitely still believed in love at first sight, however, the more he got to know you, the quicker he realized that none of what he had ever experienced with anyone in Miyagi came even close to how he felt about you.

You were daring and witty, strong and beautiful and if he could have proposed to you on that first night he would have. But if he learned anything in school that stuck it was that his previous approaches to flirting and dating weren’t exactly well-received and often described as “coming on too strong”. And since he didn’t want to mess up his chances under any circumstances, he resigned himself to pining and made a pact with himself instead. To pad his funds a bit he had joined some oyster shuckers and decided that once he found a pearl he’d confess. Unfortunately, he grossly overestimated how long it would take him to find one and chickened out immediately when a tiny pinkish thing rolled into his palm on the second day. Soon enough he carried around a small handful of them in an empty TicTac container. They weren’t worth much, all being roughly the size and shape of a corn of sushi rice but a local girl who was selling self-made jewelry turned them into a necklace in exchange for him manning her stall while she went to grab lunch.

You excused yourself to the bathroom, leaving the two young men behind. Noya already knew what was coming before his friend even started.

“Hope you realize, I feel myself age while I‘m waiting for you to make a move.“, Saruta said.

“I‘ll do it soon.“, Noya replied automatically as he looked at his almost empty bowl, considering ordering seconds.

The other raised a highly doubtful brow, “Now, where have I heard this before? Oh yeah. You, last week. Come on, it‘s not that deep. If she likes you back, great, if not, you just move on and will forget about her in no time.“

Noya glared at him, making Saruta raise his hands in defense, “Look, you have the necklace ready, it‘s her birthday tomorrow, probably some stars are aligning as well, just do it.“

“Right, I meant to ask you about something.” Noya reached into his pocket and pulled out a heavily crumpled piece of paper.

“What’s that?”

His friend smoothed out the note and skimmed the short text.

“Well, what does it look like?”

“Birthday wishes - but I’m not seeing any kind of confession here.”

Noya ignored him.

“Could you translate it for me?”

“Why? She knows Japanese.”

“I know, but I wanna do it in her native language and you’re the only one I can ask.”

“Have you heard of the internet?”, Saruta asked sarcastically, pushing the paper back across the table.

Noya waved him off. “I don’t trust online translations to make it sound natural. Plus, no program is gonna correct my pronunciation, hm?” He batted his eyes pleadingly and with pointed fingers gently slid the note to Saruta once again.

“Fine. But you’re paying for dessert.”

In all his time at school, Noya had never studied as hard as he did that night. Huddled together in the cramped hostel room they shared with 10 other guys, Noya and Saruta went through the note again and again until the latter threatened to smother Noya with a pillow if he repeated the words in his presence one more time.

The following morning the former libero made sure to dress in his best (aka cleanest) clothes and hurried to meet you outside at the pier as previously agreed.

His steps slowed when he spotted your chubby silhouette waiting. The morning air was icy even without much wind. Seagulls cawed sleepily as they patrolled the shore. The sun was just beginning to rise, coloring the horizon in tones of lavender and gold.

Noya reached into his jacket to double-check that the necklace and cheat sheet for his birthday wishes were in place.

“Y/n!”, he called and you turned around, giving him the most arresting smile.

“Yuu! Not gonna lie, I thought you overslept.”

“Not today.”, he laughed nervously and joined you at the railing that separated the street from the beach.

“I wasn’t sure why you wanted to meet so early but…”, you pointed towards the sun steadily climbing over the calm waves, “this is gorgeous.”

“Yeah…”, he said, most definitely not paying attention to the sunrise in the slightest.

When you caught him staring, he cleared his throat and pulled the little tule bag containing the necklace from his pocket. He held it out to you.

“For you.”, he added unnecessarily.

“Oh, thank you so much! You didn’t have to get me anything.”, you beamed at him and the cold October morning suddenly felt a whole lot warmer.

He took a deep breath and although stumbling over a few words here and there he recited his short speech.

“Happy birthday! I need you to know that from the moment I saw you, I knew I was in love. I can’t stop thinking about you and if you’ll have me, I’d love to be your boyfriend.”

Your jaw dropped, then you began to blush and finally you clutched his gift to your heart when he finished.

“I really like you, too!”, you replied in Japanese. Noya stiffened and his heart pounded in his ears.

“You what?”

“I really like you, too!”, you said again, a little quieter but still carrying the same enthusiasm, “And I’d love to be with you.”

The realization dawned in time with the sun. He didn’t know whether to kill Saruta or kiss him. It should have been obvious from that smile he gave him before bed.

With trembling fingers, he helped you put on the necklace, the different hues of the pearls shimmering in the golden gray morning light.

You hesitated for a moment, then stepped forward and closed the gap between you for your first kiss.

In every photo he took on his travels from this day on you were by his side, necklace and all.

a/n: That necklace 100% made an appearance on your wedding photo, too.

request for @mikayla1117

Thank you so much for giving me the opportunity to finally write for him! Also thank you so much for your kind words 🥹 I hope you enjoyed it!

for requests see here

[mercysong-tardis]

Meeting Alex Kingston in Moll Flanders cosplay at FanX 2023

Just over a year ago, a little birdy (@now-theres-a-spoiler-for-you) informed me that to the best of her knowledge, Alex Kingston had never seen a Moll Flanders cosplayer. And as an avid appreciator of the Miniseries, I took it upon myself to become the first.

The Miniseries, "The Fortunes and Misfortunes of Moll Flanders" (1996) of which Alex Kingston starred in alongside Daniel Craig, was Alex's major breakout role which led to her role on ER and her subsequent claim to fame. So considering the prevolence, I had to make it special.

I put in a LOT of work researching, sourcing fabric, internet deep-diving, and reading before I ever got started on the dress. The actual hard work of sewing the dress took a few months to make once the initial homework was done. Undergarments? Structuring? Patterns? All of these took a lot of guesswork on my part.

The original was created by costume designer, Trisha Biggar (Which if you are in the costuming community you will know her as the designer of Padme Amidala's wardrobe and the designer for Outlander) for the 1996 miniseries. The dress was constructed of fabric Trisha Thrifted in the 1960s in Sweden, most of which I am fairly certain is Indian Fabric specifically used for Banarasi Sarees. The dress is inspired by a common silhouette from the 1670s London England, based on common evening gowns worn at the time. Considering the substantial trade happening between India and England at that time, it makes sense that a dress is fine as this would’ve been historically constructed with Banarasi silk.

The original evening gown:

Sadly, I cannot afford to construct a dress entirely out of silk in this American economy, so sourced much of my fabric overseas and while I was in Egypt and Israel this summer. The rest of it was either Thrifted or appliquéd by hand by me. All of the notions and ribbons were Thrifted. I believe in doing everything possible to keep cosplay sustainable. There is a video on my TikTok which goes into detail on my construction process.

But once the dress was done, I was ecstatic, and It was time to debut it at a convention. The morning of Thursday FanX SLC, I got some pictures (in my River wig to preserve my curled hair) and this is how they turned out...

Then it was time to show The Queenston herself. I had been a little bit stressed that she wouldn't recognise the dress or wouldn't be very interested, but I held out hope.

Spoiler Alert; I had NOTHING to worry about.

Before I got to Alex, I got an autograph from Karen Gillan, who's table was next to Alex's. While in line, I was staring in awe at Alex, as she was just under twenty feet away. In between people, Alex glanced up to the crowd, then did a double take, and leaned over her table to see me through the crowd. Her mouth dropped open, she pointed straight at me, and she got all excited, and mouthed “You! Moll Flanders! Wow!” Time slowed down and I froze until I gave her a big smile (and I think a thumbs up?) and I was so starstruck that I was convinced I was hallucinating until she added “you look amazing!” still smiling, before going back to the next person. 

When I got to her table, she greeted me as Moll,and she said she'd "Never ever, ever seen a Moll cosplayer!" and I got to tell her that I made the dress. Alex absolutely loved my Moll Flanders cosplay. She told me it was the first one she’d ever seen. She was so sweet. I wasn’t anxious at all. I was so excited to finally meet her but I didn’t cry. I was actually so relaxed, which came as a surprise, as I have a track record of being emotionally overwhelmed and crying in front of Celebrities.

She was so nice and was so impressed with the dress. We got a Photo together and she ended up grabbing the shackles (is it even Alex Kingston without a cheeky touch?)

Then she signed my Making of Moll Flanders book and she flipped through it “oh this really takes me back. This was my favorite dress. The red velvet one. It was quite warm. I loved the big hat!”

For reference this is the dress she was talking about:

Then she looked up back at my dress and asked me “aren’t they fun to wear? Don’t you feel sexy?”

I said yes.

I was a liar.

I was actually incredibly uncomfortable but I would NEVER SAY THAT TO THE QUEENSTON.

So I just smiled and said yes. (I did feel sexy but 17 hours tightlaced in 1670s stays is not fun to wear)

Then at the photo op, Alex played with my hair XD

So that is the story of my most insane cosplay yet! I hope you enjoyed all you people out there on the internet.

[melhyan]

Hi I hope this doesn't sound weird,!! I came across your blog right after the Karlach and Astarion post and I scrolled and found you got DND ocs!!

Do you play Baldur's Gate and/or if you could/do, who would your characters romance? 🤭 I only saw Ellie your Triton and Vylzenya but if you got more, I would love to know!!

Hope this doesn't sound weird!😶‍🌫️

OMG, first of all, thank you for digging through my chaotic little blog—it’s a lawless land of OC rambling and unhinged fictional thirsting, so I’m impressed and also touched you found it enjoyable! 🥹 And don’t worry, it’s not weird at all; it’s like meeting someone at the nerdiest little crossroads of the internet, so hi!

Okay, let’s address the elephant (or in this case, illithid) in the room: I, tragically, do NOT possess a space-station-grade laptop capable of running Baldur's Gate 3.

Trust me, the pain of watching all the gameplay clips, romance options, and memes without participating firsthand is unbearable. I’ve even considered selling my soul to a patron, warlock-style, just to get my hands on a proper gaming setup. But alas, my current PC runs slower than a gnome carrying a halfling up a steep hill (joking, it's running Witcher 3 and SWTOR, Neverwinter and Battlefront 2 so I'm okay so far!). So, here I am, living vicariously through others like a lore-hungry goblin.

But let’s get into my OCs because—hoo boy—they’ve been dying to hypothetically smooch their way through Faerûn!

That said, Ellie (full name: Ellie Pherope Tideseeker, because of course she’s fancy) would be all about that BG3 life. Ellie’s a Triton sorceress with a heart as big as the ocean, and she travels the world with her little otter companion, Bernie. Fun fact: Bernie likes to nap in a teacup. Yes, a literal teacup. Don’t ask me how he fits—magic, probably.

I imagine Ellie spends most of her time in Faerûn a little too trusting of every shady stranger but somehow surviving by sheer luck and Bernie’s chaotic energy.

Now, let’s talk romance, because obviously! I thought Gale would be her endgame (two nerdy magic users vibing over Weave lore? Yes, please). But the more I think about it, Rolan would probably sneak up and win her heart instead. Rolan’s whole “snarky, ambitious wizard with a surprisingly soft core under all the sass” vibe feels like the perfect counterbalance to Ellie’s sunshiney optimism. Plus, Ellie loves helping people become their best selves, and Rolan’s arc is basically screaming for someone to believe in him.

Also- Ellie seeing Rolan all bruised and trying to sass his way through it while his voice shakes and he can’t quite meet her eyes? Oh no, that’s it—game over for whoever dared to lay a hand on her boy. You’d better believe that wizard loko thingy (cough Lorroakan, you arrogant little cun-[REDACTED] cough) is getting obliterated, ASAP. Faerûn? Not big enough. The Weave itself? Not enough of a hiding place.

Ellie will find him, and she will deliver some divine oceanic karmic justice:

And listen, Ellie’s not the revenge type. She’s all sunshine, forgiveness, and second chances—practically the poster child for “let’s talk this out” diplomacy. But seeing Rolan like that? Bruised, scared, and trying to scrape together enough sass to protect his pride? Oh, it flips a switch in her. The waters calm, the tides pull back, and then… boom. A storm the likes of which Faerûn has never seen before. Ellie might be small and sweet, but when someone she cares about gets hurt, that sweetness turns into steel faster than Bernie can swipe someone’s snack.

She wouldn’t even give Lorroakan a chance to monologue.

He’d start with, “Ah, you’ve come to—” Ellie: “Hi, yes, I have come to wipe the floor with your smug, pointy face.” And then it’s ON.

I mean look at him????? little precious Rolan T-T

Vylzenya, though? Oh, Vylzenya is on a different level.

She’s my half-elf warlock with a patron who may or may not be a woodland god named Cernunnos. She’s sharp-tongued, fiercely loyal to her friends, and fully capable of making bad decisions for good reasons. For her, romance would be more about vibes than practicality. Shadowheart feels like the natural choice—Vylz would 100% respect her “dark, mysterious cleric with secret trauma” aesthetic and probably find herself accidentally falling head over heels during deep philosophical discussions for the local religious-traumatized, touch-starved goth girl. (Because nothing says romance like debating the morality of Shar, right?)

That said, there’s a chaotic part of me that thinks Vylzenya would have one night of poor judgment and emotional vulnerability, leading to a steamy, tension-filled rendezvous with Minthara. You know, one of those “we definitely shouldn’t, but also…should we?” moments. It would probably end in disaster and a hangover, but hey, character growth!

Also I have Mirena, my Selkie Druid-Bard!!

Mirena Zadruga’s love life in Baldur’s Gate 3? The drama, the potential!

Mirena, the shy selkie with a heart full of oceanic magic, crossing paths with Halsin, the towering Archdruid who radiates calm, earthy wisdom. They’d have a love built on shared reverence for nature. Halsin, being Halsin, would immediately notice her connection to the sea—he’d probably be the first to call her by her true selkie nature without her even needing to explain. “Your spirit… it’s vast, like the tides. You’re not just of the land, are you?” Mirena would blush furiously (because, hello, tall and dreamy huge hunk of an Elf), stammer something about just being “a little attuned to the ocean,” and Halsin would simply smile that knowing, grounding smile of his.

Their relationship would be one of mutual support. Halsin would admire her determination to protect both her people and the natural balance, while Mirena would find solace in his ability to stand firm in the face of chaos—a rock against her turbulent tides.

When she sings her haunting sea songs, Halsin would close his eyes and listen, utterly enchanted, saying something poetic like, “Your voice carries the wisdom of the waves, Mirena. It’s a gift to hear it.” Cue Mirena blushing for the hundredth time and wondering how on earth this man isn’t already married to a goddess.

Now, Karlach. Oh boy, the sheer energy of this pairing. Mirena, the soft-spoken selkie, and Karlach, the fiery, exuberant Zariel tiefling? They’d be like fire and water—opposites in the best way possible.

Karlach would love teasing Mirena, calling her “Little Seal” and pretending to be shocked every time Mirena managed to throw out a sassier-than-expected comeback. And you just know Karlach would be all about Mirena’s singing. “Damn, Mirena, your voice could calm a hellhound. Or me after I’ve had one too many ales!”

Mirena, for her part, would adore Karlach’s zest for life. Karlach’s stories about her time in Avernus would terrify and amaze her in equal measure. And Karlach? She’d want to show Mirena everything the world had to offer—drag her to every festival, every tavern, every corner of Faerûn where they could dance like idiots and laugh until their sides hurt.

But there’d be a softer side, too. Karlach would confide in Mirena during quiet moments, her usual bravado slipping as she talks about the pain she’s endured. And Mirena, with her unshakable compassion, would listen, her gentle presence a balm to Karlach’s fiery soul.

And then there’s Gale. Oh, the romance. Gale would be utterly enchanted by Mirena from the moment she mentioned her ties to the sea. You know how he loves waxing poetic about the Weave and beauty in all its forms? Imagine how he’d wax poetic about her. “A selkie? A being of both land and sea? Mirena, your existence alone is a story worth telling.” And he’d probably try to write a ballad about her—badly. Mirena, being the folk singer she is, would politely offer to help and then completely rewrite it.

Their relationship would be full of long, starry-night conversations about magic, destiny, and the weight of being tied to something greater than yourself. Gale would relate to her sense of being caught between two worlds—his struggle with the orb and hers with her selkie heritage. They’d heal together, slowly but surely, finding a quiet kind of love in each other’s arms.

Anyway, thanks for asking and letting me ramble—it’s been a joy imagining all this nonsense. Who would your characters romance? Because now I need to know. Let’s trade chaotic OC/BG3 love stories!! 💖

[lamentingocean]

Sword Demon 7/11 Worker X Rich Reader

•---------------------------‐---------------------------------•

Warning: , pet calling, a bit of NSFW (daily dose of that sweetness) a bit of bullying and stupid fucking customers.

~Work made by Ocean~

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I graduated high school and turned into a billionaire by the time I started my own business. I didn't apply for college at the time since college seems to be a farce to most graduates. most people say that college is hell. but it's an optional school to go to as a young adult. it's a school of hell but also a school of extra learning to survive in life. to most people who don't want to learn to survive life tend to insult school like it's an abusive parent on the internet, while the people who do want to be successful embrace the hardship, and stress that school has. I have nothing against those kinds of people, but I developed a superiority complex to my immense wealth. It really isn't a problem to me since I choose to post as a threat to most rich people around my area.

you know what I hate the most...? The kind of people that have their entire eating cycle around a convenience store as they don't know how to get a pack of Mac and cheese and just make a meal instead. I eat steak while all these other commoners eat canned pasta that is probably processed in a factory, giving you cancer the best that it can. I hate those kind of people.

Eating at fancy restaurants is one thing but seeing homeless people rob a store for a pack of gummies is hilariously pathetic to me as a rich person with a million dollar house, a expensive car, and even butlers to serve under me. so I had a bit of a curiosity attack in my mind.

I wanted to walk into those convenience stores and eat a small meal. to see into the eyes of what these commoners eat to mince their hunger into nothing but bites. Ravioli, chips, 7/11 pizza, and breakfast items. this is so curious to me as a rich person that I might consider living a normal life instead of giving myself a terrible impression around people. To think I'm a "snarky, cocky, money bathed, selfish brat" these commoners probably eat good. or they eat terribly. it's hard to tell what people eat these days to stay alive. nobody wants to die from starvation. so I go to my car. it opened automatically if I pressed a button of its very own app.

and then the doors open by themselves. that's crazy. I need to explore how these commoners live in terms of food. So.. I drive to this nearby 7/11 just for an experiment. I pull up, open the door to automatically get the musky sound of a dirty mop, freezer frost, and cardboard pizza heated up. my nose scrunched in disgust to the smell. I also wasn't used to the expansion of cancer snacks. a monotone sounding voice shook me to the core while I was looking at the drinks. it's a gray haired man with a scar.

sleep-deprived, looks like he hates his job, but also.. really attractive with his small beard right on his chin. but I also see a woman with a boy who looks seven years old. I kinda look ridiculous with all this fancy fit on. I grabbed a small drink with alcohol until a shrill scream shook me. AGAIN.

it's the kid crying to her mom about his obsession with hot wheels and the mom arguing to that attractive looking guy. "I want my money back! how dare you insult my child just because he wanted a free toy from the store..this is discrimination!"

"Lady. your child literally came to me ill-mannered and ORDERED me to give him a free toy. this isn't discrimination. this is bad parenting idiot." her gasp rumbled the entire earth to that blunt response.

acting like her parenting style is made of the stuff of legends.

"I will be suing! He's only a little boy growing up to be a fine young man with proper education. you should treat him with respect!"

"Lady... does it look like I give a damn. get out of the store if you are so angry about your ill-mannered child geez. I have a lot of my mind anyway."

she left with such an aroma of anger. while I snickered in the back after what happened. meanwhile, all I see in the candy aisle is nerds gummy clusters, reeses, m&ms, peach gummies. My eyes start to shine at the vast expansion of the amount of candies that present themselves in front of my very eyes. I slowly grasp my hand to the peach gummies since I can imagine the sweet, sugary powder of this sweet treat. the price is 4 dollars in total. It's like I explored a whole other world while i was stuck being my isolated richness. I guess it isn't that terrible as I make it out to be in my own mind. once I finished reminiscing at all these delicious looking candies. I've come to pay at the cash register to this guy with a dirty work apron on. what a way to greet a new customer. so I need to inflict some revenge onto him just for a dirty apron to my rich fur coat made by the most beautiful animals in the world. I threw my items at his face until it fell right in front of the register, smirking at how his expression didn't change a bit. his emotionless state is like glass art, beautiful but simply hard to shatter. he spoke in words with a small drop of irrationality.

"Will that be all for today, ma'am/ sir..?" my voice spoke in a snotty accent, trying to get him mad a little but also see who you really are just by the physical appearance, I whip out 5 dollars from my pocket, feeling underwhelmed how a mere 5 dollars can be in the hands of a millionaire. I gave it to him with an evil smirk spreading across my face like the smile movie. "Yes, dirt-bag." I scan his movements, watch, and analyze as he checked out the items just for the price to pop up on a small screen right at the top of the register. my eyes rose up to look at his sleep-deprived eyes that can even make an energetic person sleep in a matter of seconds. it riled me up a bit just by glancing at them for seconds and seconds until my voice spoke up again in that same snotty accent.

"Hey...can I get your number...?"

"why."

"Just to see how embarrassing you are to desperately have ME as a friend. It's probably for money. are you really that stupid?"

his eyes rolled in a small growing bit of annoyance in his mood, talking back to me in his normal voice to possibly keep his composure.

"I didn't even do anything."

I can sense he is keeping his composure, I need to strike more personality into him.

"hmph. give me my food shit bucket. you probably have depression do you? acting so emotionless and so dry around people that I can even get a bit tired of talking to you. you probably have a sad life. how unfortunate.."

I threw the 5 dollar bills right in front of his face and then snatched the items back to my hands. snickering at his annoyance since I can sense it from afar. but something he did surprised me to the bitter core. He took out a small piece of old recipient paper from an old restaurant, wrote his number on it, and gave it to me without a single care in the world. I guess my strike didn't work against him. I was reminiscing about it so bad that his next words made me flinch out of that reminiscent space I was trapped in for the last 20 seconds. "Call me if you want something. I don't give a shit if you are a rich person. a friend is a friend. got it..? Good."

That genuinely made me brush a period of blood red, I stared at him for a couple of seconds before he could go to the back to talk to his manager. my eyes kept aiming at his body and his face. his gray eyes with eye bags... his luscious thin body, his scar.. I was having so many dirty thoughts about a person I just met that I started to scream so loud like a idiot. I think he liked me too? does he? or does he not or just did it for trickery? either way.. I want to go home and think about this a little more. Is this love at first sight?

I drive home after a lot while overthinking. to be honest, overthinking isn't a fun thing to have. especially when you think of the worst-case scenario when it comes to certain inconveniences that happened small. I started to believe that having all this power or having all this money is nothing compared to a normal aesthetic life getting crepes to eat on a food market street. using money to boost happiness. people say that money can't buy happiness.

that's a goddamn lie. if you can't buy roses for your girlfriend, then what is she supposed to be happy about when she is met with no gift on a first date with a lover. money does buy happiness. money is control, money is everything to us. dispite money being the dirtiest thing on earth. money is also an evil addictive subtance as well that can destroy multiple people's lives with it. There is no doubt that it can. but all of this money I have isn't worth it.. After exploring a convenience store for the first time in my life. I actually had a different feel of life. I know it isn't that serious, but it is. I actually want to experience the life that you can have a gaming pc and a small kitchen, but you can enjoy that type of lifestyle.

my overthinking is getting worse. I arrive home to automatically grab my phone and type in that man's number. Once I got done. I texted him immediately.

Me: Yo. are you here dirt bag or are you wallowing in depression?

maybe I shouldn't be too harsh, but it's so fun to bully a commoner a little bit. I waited for 3 and a half minutes just to send a dry text back like I'm his buddy.

Sword demon: No, Im not. what do you mean, bruh?

Me: Why did you give me your number in the first place, pukey pig?

I was honestly really curious to see what he's going to say. God, why am I so invested in only a convenience store worker? it's like putting a sex drug onto someone's drink and then they want the fuck any man they see in their vision.

Sword demon: I was simply invested in you, too. You are too predictable. I can literally sense that you were trying to get me mad idiot.

Me: Who are you calling a idiot?! Packaged Ramen eating emo.

my blush couldn't leave my face. my hands were trembling like a vibrator to his "investment into me." I was heated but also melted into the ground to that words.

Sword demon: Do you want me to come over or something? send me your address, yk rich people aren't that hard to find around these parts.

Me: why?"

Sword demon: I can bring roses if you want..

Me: pfh as if you have the money to buy roses for me you lousy pet-

Sword demon: im being serious.

my blush grew more red, red, and red, reading his messages 5 times in a row.. but eventually, I gave in and typed in my address.

Sword demon: I can even bring chocolates.

Me: Are you trying to flirt with me? It isn't for money... right?

Sword demon: no. I wouldn't do that. I'm not money hungry. I just need it to survive.

Me: Fine. just...bring some chocolates.

I was opening up to him a little since I kept being mean to him for no reason. for some reason. I can't bring myself to hate a commoner like him, but I'm pretty sure love can't always be based around a person's life. He suddenly got offline just to come to me. but if that's the case. I started to be a blushing mess to his approach.

it took many minutes to waste precious time overthinking about one man, so I decided to shower for it. my mind is so scrambled for a guy I just met. a rich person doesn't waste their time upon people, so why am I so vulnerable? just an employee in a small food store, so it's annoying to think about. my body is being cloaked with soap due to my mind being drizzled by the hot water. my mind is bubbling due to the amount of thoughts I had in one day. my naked body started to have an entire sex thought rampage over this man. I stared at it even more, having hallucinations of having his body against mine in the shower as we make out, fucking, and just sucking him off.

I fell on the floor, having soap get in my eyes just enough to snap me out of my overthinking sexual mindset. it's so weird. but eventually, I stood up to apply my perfume on my skin and put on my fancy clothes just to look good. I always look good for people. maybe im just a people-pleaser. I went down to my kitchen to grab a cake to eat in my free time, I hear the doorbell ring and my face sparked in happiness to see this man bringing me chocolates for just killing off my loneliness.

I ran to open the door and there he was. a box of chocolates on his right hand, a fresh set of roses on his left hand, and that same dim emotionless expression in his face. but for some reason. I didn't even try to bark at him with my attitude as my spit. trying to take note of a feral dog. it didn't piss me for some reason. I was actually happy about his appearance right in front of me. It's not because he's attractive, but his calm, cold aura is starting to comfort me a little.

"I was trying to decide if you do want the roses. it's probably too blunt or rude of me. But I also couldn't decide what kind of chocolates you like so I just got the expensive kind. for your taste.."

he had the heart-shaped box full of little small chocolate bites. I could see the price tag on there having an estimated cost of 300 dollars. and the roses weren't fake either. they weren't roses fished out of a grocery store. they were real because of the thorns and the lingering scent seducing my nose to smell them even more. and that completely broke my avoidance for him.

I suddenly hugged him right in the chest, with the way he was looking when I slowly squeezed his body. He was surprised, and that broke his emotionless state to other people. A small, genuine smile started to grow on his face as he hectic towards laying his hands on my body. He slowly put the stuff down and wrapped his arms to my waist. His touch is soft but a bit hard at the same time. his scent is kinda like a mix between lilac and soft vanilla with a hint of slight cologne. and his arms were strong but tender. my head slowly grasped to look up at him, sliding my face across his chest to look at him. his smile made my heart get crushed by the God cupid himself.

his breath is so warm, and our eyes directed at each other in such a close range. even I saw a little blush stare to form on his face when my own face moved closer to his. I kept losing it to him for the entire day, and now I'm completely losing my own attitude directly in front of him. it's like revealing an intimate side to myself that didn't even know existed. but also soon as I flipped back to reality again.

I pushed him off and grabbed the gifts a stupidly rude way. "You are now my pet. you must do what I say, or you won't be coming back here ever again."

"I don't know. It seems like you were into me for a second...are you? I won't mind if you are attracted to me. for real..I really wouldn't mind."

"No! No. I was just...directing my attention to you from a TV show."

"Sureeee..."

my face turned a bubblegum red again to my next words, and my own mind betrayed me into saying this.

"Do you...want to watch a movie and share chocolates together..?"

"Sure. Why not?"

(Sweetest x reader I wrote in a while, that's for sure)

[perdvivly]

Not waiting for chance or fate to dictate the terms of how annoying I’m allowed to be on the internet. I am choosing to answer them all now, unasked as I am.

1) This is mildly variable depending on the amount of effort I’m willing to expend. Typically the common theme is no adulterants. No sugar, no milk, no queen of England. If I’m getting fancy with it I’ll make an effort to time the brewing duration, 3mins for a black tea, 5mins for a green tea, 7mins for a herbal tea. But honestly the sort of depression chic I’ve been serving lately has been leaving the bag in and drinking it straight, tannins be damned.

2) Mandarin. Just seems like it’d be the most useful innit. Also, relatively harder to pick up non-magically given my native Englishhood.

3) God. I try not to honestly. No, but seriously, my sleep schedule has been all sorts of out of shape recently. I should work on that. At the moment it varies wildly day to day and depends on my responsibilities the days before and after the sleep. I’ve pulled a couple of all nighters recently and it gets screwy.

4) Maybe atla? I remember really liking it when it came out but not fully understanding the whole plot because I didn’t see it serialised until later. Maybe the simpsons? There’s something to say here about the earnestness of the earlier seasons and seeing a deeply dysfunctional family care about each other in ways they struggle to express—that gets glossed out as the production value rises in the later seasons—that’s like heroin to someone trapped in an irony poisoned world. But maybe that’s cope? Maybe it’s just the show I had the easiest access to as a kid. I guess I didn’t watch a whole bunch of tv or at least not a whole bunch that stuck with me.

5) Summer ez. (Have you seen her baphomet pics? 🥵)

6) In general, I doubt very much that either the optimist or the pessimist considers themselves such. It’s not really the sort of thing that admits of self-diagnosis in that way… Philosophically, the broader question is what? Do I align with Schopenhauer, Voltaire’s Leibniz, or Russel’s Leibniz? I’m not sure the tumblrinas care about the history of philosophy. I guess I’ll say to the extent that Schopenhauer relies on Indian mysticism, which I think is typically underrated, he’s simply mistaken about the world as will and representation. I’ll say that, I’m *not* a Buddhist. I think the doctrine of dukkha misses fundamental aspects of human existence. I’ll say that people have richer inner lives, deeper felt internal experiences, than you might assume from reading their little words on the internet. And that, on the whole, these are good things.

7) I mean, both ideally. Variety is the spice of life. If I had to choose I suppose it would be sunshine. But I’m terribly glad I don’t live in a world where I have to choose.

8) I have the cutest little book marks. My primary two at the moment are the sun and the moon, which I use for main text and end notes respectively. Though, I have been known to dog-ear in my time. I once got yelled at by my aunt for turning the corner of the page on my copy of Harry Potter and the order of the phoenix because it was a first edition and she was under the impression that it may be valuable some day. I was like, come on man, I’m 7. Don’t even piss. <- I didn’t say these things, but I was *like* that.

9) For the longest time I *only* wore steel toe capped boots because I ran myself over with an electric pallet stacker and tore my toenail off and decided I didn’t want that to happen again. I don’t do that anymore because I interact with heavy machinery less than I used to. Now all that matters to me is that they’re waterproof.

10) *My* signature scent like, I produce it? Or like I like it? I guess one of my favourite scents is lavender. But I've been told... Okay, it's important you guys know I do *not* have a yeast infection... I've been told some parts of my body naturally smell like bread, like, that sort of doughy yeasty (I s2g I do *not* (I did not hit her. I did not! oh hi mark)) smell that you get with bread sometimes. Is that what the question was asking?

11) I mean... That's broadly not for me to decide right? Unless the sort of dragons you're imagining have some sort of glamoury illusion magic, which seems plausible. Anyway, do you guys remember in Moby Dick when he goes on this wild tangent about how St. George and The Dragon was acutally about whales? And St. George's horse was actually a walrus or something. What was that about??

Okay, author's note, there's a time skip here. I've been scrolling through lists of dragons in popular culture for a while now and there are a pretty neat and widely varied selection of designs. I'll get back to you on this one.

12) It depends on why I'm writing! If it's a quick note to myself for future reference it'll generally be cursive, if it's an important document that will be read by other people generally it'll be print. If it's time-sensitive it'll be cursive. I remember writing essays for undergrad that I'm sure were totally illegible by the end of them, I think literally just a line on a page with occasional lifts and dips.

13) There is more information on wookieepedia than existed in my philosophy but a few minutes ago. The typology I've discerned is thus: blue - jock, green - nerd, yellow - geek, red - edgelord. And I'm a little bit of all of these, so I think any would be fine. Realistically though, I'm not sure a lightsaber is the best weapon in fantasy space-past-future where spaceships and lasers are common. Like, I'll let it slide because the original trilogy was doing a kirkegaardian faith thing and the prequels were doing a logic doesn't matter it's cool thing, and those are both respectable motivations to leave logistics aside for a bit.

14) Sad

15) Ice skates! I love ice skating!

16) I'm a youngest. I have an older sister, I think I talk about her here from time to time.

17) Well, how I would use it would depend massively on what it was. If the question is which superpower I think is the best then why not ask that? Which superpower would I have has a faint ring of incomprehensibility about it. It's really not clear which counterfactual is under consideration. *If* what?

Anyway, I think time control powers are up there right? Top five at least, easy. Imagine what you could do if you could stop time and sleep whenever you felt like it. I feel King Leerish about the ability to just be well rested. I would do such things, what they are yet I know not.

18) The problem with romantic relationships is that eventually, all of your most interesting clothing will end up in someone else's closet. I think my day-to-day wear tends to be mostly blues, blacks and whites. Not hugely interesting colourwise.

19) Snake, I think, they have fewer demands and I can't really handle any more pressure in my life than I already have. I would hate to be a bad bird mom... I would hate to be a bad snake mom too, but I think it's easier. Typically regarded as easier. I don't know.

20) Okay, so, it's like this right: medieval battle = will probably die. And it's also like this: behind city walls = safe, my friend and lover and confidant. And so, for very obvious reasons, it's gotta be a bow right? Like, I'm standing way out of the action and I'll shoot some arrows long range. But if that's against the spirit of the ask then it's gotta be some kind of polearm, like a halberd or something. Not even close. The advantage you get from distance is hard to overstate. Yeah, polearm for sure.

21) Mint choc chip, it's just such a classic. But also, I had a "london fog" flavour recently that was really compelling. It's just earl grey and vanilla but it's so good.

22) I'm more of a herbs person than a spices person. Like, hmm, I do really enjoy paprika and ginger and stuff like that, don't get me wrong. But it doesn't really hold a candle to the sheer universality of parsley or basil or oregano or mint. Herbs stay winning.

23) These days it's aptos because I am the worlds most basic bitch. And yes, I do still have a fondness for arial.

ask game that tells a lot about you.

how do you take your tea / coffee?

if you could be fluent in any language at the snap of your fingers, which one and why?

when do you wake up?

what was your favourite tv show as a kid?

summer or winter?

realist, optimist, or pessimist?

rain or sunshine?

how do you mark your spot in a book?

what are your favourite shoes like?

what would your non-perfume/cologne signature scent be?

if you were a dragon, what would you look like?

is your handwriting more print, cursive, or a mix?

what colour would your lightsaber be?

what is your defining personality trait?

roller skates or rollerblades or ice skates?

are you an only child? oldest / middle / youngest?

what would your superpower be? how would you use it?

what’s your clothing colour palette?

pet snake or pet bird?

weapon of choice in a medieval battle

the best ice cream flavour

what spices do you always use when cooking?

default font when typing?

[stardust-in-my-mind-blog]

knock at the door

I rarely have people spontaneously appear at my door

in a way that is positive or even welcome

in my current home it's mostly older people

and usually they show up to complain or tell me

something that is ridiculously arbitrary but matters VERY MUCH

to their very small and limited perspective of the world

that was kind of their generation's culture so I get it

and also they didn't have the internet and I think we forget

how difficult it was to get all the information we youngsters

have at our fingertips now that you'd only have been able to

obtain by going to the library or something likewise scholarly

today it was a man at my door that I'd never seen

handing me a summons to court for my divorce

I still have my other divorce papers and it looks the same

I read over it lightly and it uses the same language

there was a moment I felt emotion at my throat

there's not excitement exactly that replaced it

but more of a sense of 'finally we can get this started'

I'm over the shame and stigma of divorce now

I felt for awhile like I'd failed something or would seem

less desirable to future prospective partners because I obviously

was not able to retain the title of wife very well

I have this thing where when dudes start treating me bedly

I kind of make their life hell with my amazing monologues

and hilarious mythologies about how stupid they are

I guess some men just can't take their justice well

maybe they should have been nicer I dunno

now I've kind of woven it into my mythology

it takes a lot of work to have two divorces under your belt

it's expensive and takes awhile to get through the process

it shows I'm willing to commit and willing to burn it down

it shows I really believed in something for awhile

I'm glad I ate breakfast first because this experience

would not have gone down well if I was hangry

it's a confirmation to how truly unattached I am now

and considering this dude had a habit of randomly telling me

he wanted a divorce more than thirteen times during arguments

and it was more a devalue and discard cycle

but that's how he likes to do things and then deny them

I'm glad he finally put his dick where his mouth is

the first time I went through this process I never really

overcame the shame of it and acted accordingly

during my first custody battle I didn't look at all the options

because I was so scared at the threats made to take my kids away

this ex-husband also threatened to take my kid away

and did various other things to keep me in a state of fear

and enjoyed the pain he habitually came around to inflict

I think I've learned my lessons this time around

so it may just be time to return them and I hope

my lawyer is impressed with how far I've come

last time I wanted to play nice and cared way too much

about the feelings of someone who never cared about mine

now I love knives more than feelings so it's going to be

fun to see just where I can cut and what will come out

and that's a metaphor in case my words make anyone uneasy

this is going to be a chess game I just may enjoy

what can I get away with?

what can I gain from this war?

I am not at all interested in leaving without a few spoils

of war to make sure he remembers just who the fuck

he decided to mess with and treat poorly

he's the one who chose to make the vows and break them

and now that I'm faithful only to myself

I'm interested to see all my options on the table

I want to make sure he sees them too

sweats a little as I peruse and decide just what I want to take

I want him to cry to the next girl that I skinned him alive

maybe that's just now though and I'll feel differently

after a bit of time passes but since I've taken such careful

time to document the unforgivable sins of his making

I think my efforts deserve whatever just rewards they receive

it's fun to let go of the outcome and embrace curiosity

I don't know what I want to do but I do know

I'm going to have fun and enjoy it a bit

third time is the charm and I don't feel sad anymore

and I'm kind of excited about what I'm going to learn

[traumxrei-archive]

【 book 6 thoughts ! 】

i said i'd share my thoughts, so here they are so far >:DD

part: one, two, three, four / ??

[ warning: spoilers for book 6 up until 6-16 under the cut !! ]

[ about : overblot lore drop ]

it took yuu long enough to actually TELL CROWLEY that grim was eating those rocks :')))) makes 110% sense that grim would lash out if he's been ingesting 5-overblot's-worth of purified blot

but also, i...can't believe it took twst this long to actually explain what was going on when we were fighting the overblots jsfksdfk like this whole time i've been assuming that people just. get knocked out or tired, but what they explained made so much more sense.

crowley has said that overblotting is rare. but then how come at nrc ?? there's been 5 consecutive overblots in less than a school year ?? (the twst timeline so far is from sept till around feb, bc book 5 was set during a "spring festival" iirc) the reason they don't know enough about overblots is bc they don't have enough subjects who have overblotted to research, so... i do wonder if there's something else at play here, maybe something has changed in NRC since yuu came ?

[ about : ortho lowkey scares me ]

ortho honey....wdym do we need bring back the target alive.....ofc we need grim alive sobs (the juxtaposition between his youthful n polite way of talking + the way he literally knows everything bc his brain is the internet kinda scares me a lot.)

[ about : vil's apology ]

i made a separate post to talk about this bc i started writing n it really got too long, so yes. but also. vil whipping out 50k madol like it's nothing. his acting career has really done him well.

and kalim donating it to ramshackle, my beloved. he's so nice. even while he's saying "it was sO RUN DOWN !!" as kalim was listing out the bad stuff abt ramshackle, i wonder how yuu was able to LIVE in this dump for 6 months.

[ about : ROBOTS ???? ]

HELLO ?? INTRUDERS ????? ROBOTS ?? WHAT ????? they're ignihyde blue....also the boat ? logo ? on their arms ??? what the heck does that mean ??? ok wait i can vaguely read out letters on their arm,,,styx ?? like the river styx in the greek underworld ? having a headache, are we gonna see the underworld somehow in this book ? wait, if the facility or whatever is called styx, are these robots the "charons" ? they're carrying oar-like staffs + they're trying to capture targets D and E and bring them in,,,,kinda like how charon brought souls in a boat to cross the styx river in myth. (also i was right, leona called them ferrymen >:DD)

(n they have grim. interesting that they'd ignore yuu tho, considering it was them who is the string that connects all the overblots.)

(also don't you just hate it when you win the battle, but then in canon the chars actually lost the battle. so you're just sitting there like -_-)

[ about: ob gang's capture ]

it was. very in character how each of them got captured.

vil and jamil were protecting other people (aka the freshmen, and in jamil's case, kalim) vil is really big on his responsibilities, so even though he authorized the use of magic, he still told the freshmen to stand back bc he knew they were unskilled in combat magic n that they'd get hurt bc they don't know hot to properly defend. meanwhile, jamil was probably covering any of kalim's blindspots + making sure he doesn't get hurt while looking for places where he could attack.

riddle went out with a bang, they hit him with a paralyzing beam, and he still had enough magic power to set everything on fire before they could hit him again. he also authorized everyone to fight, bc he probably believed that a group effort could take them down. as always, his sheer firepower is very impressive, the amount of magic he has and his attacking prowess is...wow.

leona....protected ruggie from harm first, saving him from glass and telling him to back off. and then he immediately scanned them to identify who they are. and of course, leona of all people, would know who they are. i think people forget, but a large reason why leona's so smart and why he skips class is bc he quite literally learned all that material when he was younger. the fact that he was the only one to recognize anti-magic plates meaning that resistance was futile and the logo from his time at the palace. (and that moment between ruggie and leona,,,,leona knows that he can trust ruggie w/ the wellbeing of savanaclaw until he returns T^T)

meanwhile azul was with idia, even though he didn't know what was happening, he got extra info from idia n ortho,,, the way azul was about to fight and idia went don't bother (bc he actually likes azul as a friend bro), and ortho went "the chances of you sustaining an injury drops by 87% if you don't struggle ^^" also. idia being concerned ? kind of ? by the ferrymen's forcefulness while coming in and taking the students is nice to see (and i KNEW it. i bet that idia's parents, or the shroud family in general, runs this Styx facility)

and they took crowley ?? crowley seems to know exactly what's going on, so i wonder why they didn't coordinate their...pick up with him beforehand (they legit destroyed so much public property + trespassed for no reason)

[ about : the plane ride ]

it's scary how they're all in a cramped dark space flying to who knows where. like how inhumane ?? they're about to take these people to do research w/ them, but clearly they don't care that they're humans, and they treat them more like convenient test subjects that have converged coincidentally in one school.

RIDDLE SLEEPING ON LEONA'S LAP IS SO FUNNY SJFDKSJFKS I CANTTTTT the way his leg was probably cramping,,,,three hours w/o moving and someone sleeping on you, he has so much patience onggg

[ about : styx ]

so...styx is an organization that does research on blot. it makes perfect sense why crowley would know they'd come knocking, since they have had 5 overblots that one school year. and the shroud family are "the watchman of the isle of woe". leona explains that they take overblotted mages there. what i don't understand is why countries can't interfere with them ?? or is it that they won't interfere with their research bc...styx' research benefits them too perhaps...?

from what leona said, they handled extreme overblot cases that regular magic marshals couldn't handle aka ones that can't un-blot anymore, so why are they coming after the ob gang ? not only were some of their overblots months ago, they've also all safely un-blotted, and transitioned back to normal life... ig my question is why them, and why now.

(it's a cool detail that the ob gang actually got help after their overblots. like it wasn't like everyone just picked up where they left off, vil mentioned medical mages and proper counseling, and that means that they were able to talk to someone about the things that troubled them.)

[ about : idia's family ]

not only do they run the jupiter conglomerate, aka the google of twisted wonderland, they might also run styx ? idia did ask the charon dudes if his mom and dad were away, ig this is what the shroud family ACTUALLY does behind the scenes of their big tech and energy business.

it also explains why idia deleted all those prospective work emails in the end of book 5,,,,bc he just knows that he won't be able to work or pursue any of his other dreams. his fate has been sealed since day 1 bc he was born a shroud, so he's probably going to end up having to take over Styx and its research in the future.

(and azul. being as on-brand as ever and saying he should've made idia in debt to him....sir, his family legit just kidnapped you, chill)

[ about : iDIA SHROUD ?? ]

HELLO. IDIA SHROUD ACTING DIRECTOR OF STYX ???? that means that his parents DO own styx, and that they're letting him run it for now while they're doing other things.... also i really hope that the ob gang don't get hurt hhhh

aaaannd i'm stopping here bc it's late, i did not realize that so much time had passed...i'm tempted to keep playing but i must sleep. n e ways yea this was just me rambling about what was happening as it happened, so i hope you...enjoyed ?? (if you did read this far)

[joshslater]

Collection Fee

Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.

I've known Malik since we shared dorm in high school. Weird how the two immigrant boys "randomly" end up sharing a room. Not that we really cared. It was nice to have something in common, though our backgrounds were vastly different. It was on the 58th day living together, and yes I have a diary, that he revealed he could do magic. He hadn't been properly taught, since he was only two when they fled, but to someone who had never before seen real magic or even considered it possible every little was impressive. There was one thing he was good at, although he had few opportunities to use it. He could perform body swaps.

It works completely differently than any way I would have imagined, but also in the most literal sense of the description. The bodies are swapped. If you were standing in one end of the room and he in the other, once he finished the spell your bodies would have swapped places with each other. Your consciousness on the other hand wouldn't, so suddenly your body is across the room while you are still standing in the same place, but in Malik's body.

Over the following months we got to know each other's bodies well, sometimes spending several days in each other's bodies. Malik was a bit of a jock, though never really good at sports, always wanted to run or lift weights or whatever. We made an arrangement that I would take his body on his rest days so he could do workout with my body. I worked extra at Jarod's Burgers, and luckily everyone there were racist enough to not see the difference between me and Malik. Since it was really me all the time they wouldn't be able to know based on differences in knowledge or speech. Or they just didn't care that two students used the same slot under the same name. They were still racist though. Anyway, I paid Malik a PT fee out of my salary for keeping my body in increasingly good shape. I can't imagine a trainer being more personal than that. All I had to do was pay him money and endure the sore muscles.

Then came the lockdown and remote learning. Malik moved back to wherever his parents were and I stayed in the dorm. I didn't have internet good enough for zoom at home, and staying one per dorm room was allowed under the rules. We were still swapping bodies for him to train in the improvised gym he had set up in the garage. After about a month he asked when he could get his money? I first didn't understand what he meant, but then realized he still expected his PT fee. I told him that everything was closed down and I wasn't getting any Jarod's Burger money. He got really pissed at me, our first real fight. He was accusing me of stealing or at least fraud, and said he wouldn't do any more swaps until he was paid.

Fine, I shouted back and disconnected the call, only to realize I was sitting in his body in the dorm room. I tried to call him back, but he rejected it. He sent a text message back saying "I'll do nothing but chest now. Get back when you have the money". It wasn't a huge amount but without an income I was already penny-pinching to get by. First I thought he was perhaps only joking, but at least being rash and change his mind later, but a week later I came to the conclusion that he was stubborn enough to keep my body until I paid.

Desperate I put up my textbooks for sale. Not surprising there wasn't much of a bidding frenzy, but I managed to sell a few tomes. I would take the camera a take a photo of all the pages I thought I would still need, which took a few hours per book. It took a few weeks to sort out before I could tell Malik I got the money. "You have payment for the time since we last spoke?" the asshole asked me. I was very close to telling him to fuck off and keep the damn body, but I could imagine what mum would say, so I kept my mouth shut. Luckily he contined with a "Just kidding."

I sent him the money through an app and he asked me if I was ready to swap. "Sure," I said. I hadn't seen myself in a month at this point, but didn't expect much, if anything to be different. Holy shit was I surprised after the now familiar swapped was done. My chest muscles were enormous. "What the fuck did you do to my body?" I asked him. "Just some focused exercise (and a pinch of magic). Hope you have a bra! lol" he responded. I know nothing of bra sizes, but I could clearly see that quite a few would be too small. I was speechless. "Don't worry. They'll probably be down to normal once this fucking lockdown is over."

He was probably right. If I didn't exercise them they would slowly melt away. I looked at myself in the mirror. It wasn't just that they were big, it looked out of proportion compared to the rest of the body too. I started to touch them and jiggle them a bit, and I could feel a hard-on approaching. Perhaps I should keep them for a bit..

[spunkpunx]

I Don’t Share - Kai Anderson

Plot: Reader is the only person who Kai Anderson ever really listened to.

Word count: 1899

Warnings: SMUT, Manipulative reader, Smoking, Blood, Aggressive Sex, Mocking, It’s AHS Cult so it’s gonna be dark, Misogyny

I walked down the steps, into the basement. The place he dwelled. The dark web was a strange place, full of internet trolls, but something about Kai Anderson was different. Something in his words garnered attention, and now, it was time to find out.

“Hello?” I called out confidently. At this point in my life, nothing scared me, not even death, but my survival was important. After all, what could I achieve from beyond the grave? To be without fear is to be dangerous.

“Who are you?” a voice called out from the sofa. The man sat there was not the man I expected to see, and I was pleasantly surprised.

“Kai Anderson?” I queried, and he nodded. I had expected someone much less attractive, but Kai’s dark eyes, handsome face and fit body were all things that played into my hands. His eyes bore into me as I walked into the room and sat opposite him. he wore sweatpants, and his shoulder length hair was dyed blue.

“Answer my question, bitch,” he snapped at me, but I just looked at him disapprovingly, taking a cigarette from my pocket and lighting it. He glared at my lack of response, but I made sure to take my time before I replied.

“When a dog bites it’s master, they take it into the yard and put a bullet in its head,” I calmly spoke, resisting a smile at the taken aback expression on his face. The surprise soon turned into rage, and he stood up and grabbed me by the collar of my t-shirt, making me jump.

“I don’t even know you! No bitch will be the master of me!” Kai yelled, and I met his eyes with a level gaze. I gave him a look, a look of indifference, and he released me from his grasp. He stood above me.

“Sit down Kai, I’m not speaking to you until you sit.”

“Fuck off.”

I met his eye with a steely glare, and reluctantly, he took a seat the other side of the coffee table.

“Now, I’m (y/n) (l/n), and I came to see you because I need you,” I began to explain. Kai raised an eyebrow. “There’s something about you Kai, that shocks people, that commands attention, but you’re wasting it away sat sweating in this shitty basement.”

He leant foreword in his seat, starting to listen more attentively. It was almost too easy.

“Now I have a proposal, because I need you to realise your potential,” I continued, and he was captivated.

•

The cult had been running for just over a month. Of course, no one had identified it as what it was yet, but it was coming together as intended. When I first met Kai, I wanted to rile him up and let him lose to wreak havoc on the world, to scare people into action, but after speaking to him, I realised an intelligence more than I had initially thought. It was a waste not to push him forward into something on a national level. Of course, he had been harder to break than I first thought, but eventually I had had him wrapped around my finger using the only weapon women had against men, the weapon that sat between my legs.

Within the ring I took the position of Kai’s right hand and lover, his assistant, and it was widely assumed that I was abused and too love struck by our “Divine Ruler” to realise. As much as they admired him, they feared him. In reality, I was in control. Everything Kai had become was because of me.

I knew I had control at the first “pinky ritual”. As soon as our fingers made contact he dived into the first questions, but by that point I’d already won. He was angry, emotional, irrational. I’d got under his skin. It didn’t take long for me to turn the questioning round onto him, and soon he was spilling his guts to me. Everything about his parents, his brother and sister, every fear, hate, love and regret in his life he gave to me. We had sex and with that he’d given me all of his power.

Despite the impression that the rest of the cult held, Kai was ready to lick the shit off of my shoe if I asked. Of course, that didn’t mean I had absolute control. His ideas were his own, I just gave him a push in the right direction. After the killing of Bob Thompson and his gimp, I had pulled Kai’s mask off and kissed him, hard, to show my appreciation. He pulled our bodies closer together and when he brushed his finger across my lip I could taste the blood on it. From that point on, there was no better sight for me than a bloodied Kai Anderson.

•

“I don’t share Kai,” I stated, coldly, as he walked down into the basement. I had been sat on the sofa, waiting for him to return.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t lie to me,” I spat. “You’ve been upstairs fucking Mrs. Lavender,” I pointed out, referring to Meadow.

“There’s a reason,” he defended himself simply. “She needed to think I loved her so she’ll be willing to die for me. It’s exactly what you asked.”

“I don’t think you understand,” I replied slowly, opening my legs to reveal no underwear on beneath my skirt, and I noticed Kai’s next words catch in his throat. “You belong to me. To this.” I gestured my womanhood. He knelt in front of me on the floor, tracing his hands along my thighs, temptation in his eyes.

“No, I don’t,” Kai spat. I snapped my thighs shut and he pulled his hands away sharply. “I am the Divine Ruler,” he announced, standing to lean over me, taking my throat in his hand and squeezing slightly. I looked him back in his dark eyes coolly, daring him to do what he was threatening to do. Kai didn’t have the strength in him to kill me.

“I made you what you are.” I felt his grip tighten. “You’re nothing without me,” I croaked, my voice hoarse as he cut off my breath. His grip tightened more, and for a moment I almost considered he might go through with it. I saw a tear run down his face and then he let go. He dropped his head, tears running down his face, and I opened my arms to him. He dropped down to the sofa, next to me, falling into my embrace. He buried his head into my shoulder and sobbed, while I stroked his hair, shushing him.

“I’m sorry,” he almost whimpered. I pushed him down of the sofa, back on his knees in front of me, opening my legs. He sighed in appreciation, his eyes darkening with lust. As he reached his hand towards my leg I smacked it away.

“No, you have to beg,” I instructed. He looked up to meet my eye. There’s nothing more dangerous than a humiliated man, he had once said, but here he was, willing to get down on his knees in front of me and beg for my attention.

“Please, forgive me, (y/n). Let me touch you,” he pleaded pathetically. I leant forward and took his jaw in my hand, guiding his lips up to meet my own. He desperately leaned into the kiss, sitting up on his knees to pull us closer. His hand ran along my thigh and brushed across my heat, and when I didn’t pull away he rubbed the rough pad of his thumb against my clit before pushing a finger inside of me. I let myself moan against his kiss. He added another finger and curled them inside of me, swallowing my noises up with his lips. I pulled away from the kiss, panting.

“I want you to show me how much you hate me Kai,” I told him, and he removed his fingers from me, confused. I continued, pulling my shirt over my head leaving me in my bra. “Oh, I know you do. The way I make you feel confused, the way I treat you. I let you know how much of a piece of shit you are and you let me tell you that. What kind of man are you? You hate the way I make your prick harder than anyone else could,” I tease, reaching to grab his erect cock through his trousers. I pull my knees back, showing my full pussy out in front of him and that’s all he takes to snap. He stands up and pushes me down on the couch, kneeling himself between my knees before pulling his shirt over his head. It’s hard not to admire his muscular body. It’s no wonder he could get people to believe he was their god, he looked exactly like one. He unzipped his jeans and pulled them down, freeing his cock from his boxers and stroking it while looking at me.

“You’re right,” he told me harshly, grabbing my jaw and resting his thumb in my mouth so I kept it open. “I do fucking hate you.” With that he leant forward towards me and spat directly into my mouth. His harsh words were making me drip with lust. Without any warning he plunged his cock into my warmth, grunting and dropping his hands to my grip onto my waist and the flesh of my stomach. He pounded into me relentlessly, letting out small moans of pleasure. I panted, and when he hit a spot inside of me I let out a breathy moan. I felt a sting across my face, realising that he’d slapped me. He moved a hand to my thigh, pressing it back toward my chest. He growled as he hit my cervix, his hands heavy and his grip tight. Kai grabbed my throat and leant over my body to give the most bruising kiss, and as he pushed my legs back, his cock hit even deeper in me. I even whimpered as he mercilessly pounded into me, harder and harder. His kiss travelled, down my neck, and I felt him take the skin between his teeth, leaving bite marks. I took his head in my hands, fingers tangled in his hair, and I connected our mouths once more, tongues and teeth colliding. He let out another desperate moan. Even when he hated me I still controlled him. The room was filled with the sound of wet kisses and skin slapping. I felt the pleasure build and reached down to rub myself, reaching a shuddering climax and clenching around Kai. He let out a groan and swore, pounding into me faster, his thrusts sloppy. He pulled my bra down and grabbed onto my tits, desperately panting and he brought himself closer to finish. I could do nothing but moan and tremble as his thrusting overstimulated me. His breathy moans brought me to finish a second time, a wave of pleasure hitting me and making me shake again. Kai groaned, pushing himself balls deep inside me and spilling hot cum. He collapsed down on top of me and I let him rest his head on my chest, wrapping my legs around his waist and kissing the top of his head.

“I do think I could love you, Kai,” I murmured against his hair, and I had no reason to say it, but I truly meant it.

[thefanficmonster]

Stranger In The Crowd

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: None

Genre: FLUFF, Humor, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Having recently ended the process of moving, Y/N is rightfully very tired but also very excited for the new chapter of her life. Funnily enough, this new chapter includes a newly formed long distance friendship/crush with a very special person from San Diego.

Requested by @boiled-onionrings Hi darling! Thank you so much for your wonderful request and I’m really sorry you’ve had to wait so long for it to be posted but here it finally is and I hope you enjoy the read! Love, Vy ❤

I let out a heavy sigh, relieved to finally be at home after such a long day of standing around in the Georgia heat with only a thin layer of fabric to protect my eyes and head from the scorching sun. Yeah, anyone who says that tent did well at protecting everyone under it today is nothing but a liar. I was in a short, strapless white summer dress, the fabric of which barely had any weight and consistency to provide heat of its own yet I still damn near melted. Ok, I’ll admit, some of the roasting heat probably came from the energy and force I put into singing the songs of my band’s new album ‘Starting At The End’. 

The mini concert we held in this large open field was meant as an introduction to the city of Savannah where all the band members - myself included - are actually from but we all moved to the West Coast to pursue our music career. And now that we’ve grown, and the majority of us are married, one of us is a father now as well, we’ve decided to return to our hometown. The decision was so spontaneous and was executed so quickly due to no one objecting to it that it still hasn’t me that I’m no longer in LA. The heat isn’t helping my ‘processing’ process but I’ll get to it eventually. Do I miss LA though? Not sure I do - I think I more miss the people I was closer to while I was there.

Suddenly, as if perfectly timed, my phone dings, notifying me that I’ve received a message. I don’t have to look to know it’s from - there’s only one person I actively text and his name is....

C ~ Your virtual buddy Corpse here, making sure you didn’t die of a heatstroke today. If you did indeed survive, just reply to this message, if not....don’t do anything, I guess.

I can’t help but giggle at the sight of the message. I promised Corpse I’d text him after the concert to let him know I was ok, but the even dragged out for longer than anticipated so I’m guessing he got worried.

How cute.

Me ~ Alive and well, but I do feel like a popped tire of an overloaded truck. Hope that’s a visually appealing description

Corpse and I met on the charity livestream Jacksepticeye organized and invited our band to so we could play Among Us with some of the best gamers and streamers on the internet. It was a huge honor and a ton of fun, definitely an event I’d like to repeat in the near future because I had such a good time and I know all my bandmates did too. We all got acquainted and even became official friends with the gamers that were practically our hosts, Corpse becoming the closest friends I’d earn. That livestream happened months ago and we still text just as consistently.

C ~ Oh I know EXACTLY what you mean. Anyway, as to not exhaust you further to force you into typing, how about you send me pictures to sum up your thoughts and emotions and plans for the evening

This is OUR THING trademark, mine and Corpse’s and no one can take it away from us. It’s a significant element of our friendship that enables us both to understand one another when one of us feels the way I described in my message - a popped tire or a deflated balloon. I’m usually the exhausted one - blame the many shows we do and the many meet-and-greets we organize for our lovely fans. It’s the type of exhaustion none of the band members mind at all, but we definitely need some time to recover from it.

As I go to sit down on my couch, the flower crown I’ve been wearing slips off the top of my head, falling on the floor, creating a soft noise that attracts the attention of one of my many cats - Sasha. She’s the youngest and most curious kitty in the family, always protected by the other four - Luna, Cassie, Silver and Lynn. Those four are far lazier and a lot more disinterested in comparison to Sasha who immediately runs over to see what’s fallen.

I smile to myself, taking the flower crown and undoing it to lessen it by a few stems to make it smaller, all the while being watched by the curious Sasha whose interest is rewarded in the end when I put the now adorably tiny flower crown on her head.

While she still hasn’t shaken the thing off I manage to snap a pic which I send to Corpse who opens it mere seconds after it was delivered. 

C ~ Sasha’s pulling off your aesthetic better than you. Sorry, someone had to let you know

I burst out laughing for two reasons - 1.The message itself, damn it! It’s hilarious; 2. Corpse has learnt the name of each one of my cats and never mixes them up - not even Luna and Lynn who look almost identical. That amount of attention to detail is astonishing and very meaningful to me, it genuinely warms my heart and that may or may not be dramatic but it’s definitely not exaggerated.

Me ~ You think I haven’t caught on yet? 

C ~ Well, if it makes you feel any better you pull off my aesthetic better than I do

He’s referring to the e-girl look I did for one show the band had in downtown LA one night. I was drunk and looking forward to trying new things so I improvised the hell out of my outfit but I apparently looked presentable enough to leave a good impression on Corpse despite the pic I sent him being a bit blurry and being a mirror selfie in the bathroom of the very bar we were performing in. It goes without saying that the mirror was dirty too - had a bunch of writing on it which Corpse said only added to the aesthetic. Looking back on it now I kinda agree, and luckily so did the fans in the comments of that same photo when I posted it on Instagram.

Me ~ Means a lot actually. Nowhere near enough to aid the burn of having a cat pull off cottagecore better than I do, but still helps XD

As if sensing that we’re talking about her, Sasha hops on the couch, poking her head over my phone to look down at the screen.

Now this is gonna be golden.

I take a selfie with my phone in my lap, the camera capturing both me and Sasha at a rather unflattering angle which has me losing my mind laughing when I send the picture to Corpse who immediately sends back a string of cry-laughing emojis.

C ~ I can’t tell which one of you is cuter

Me ~ If that was a compliment, I gotta say I appreciate it greatly

C ~ Just telling the truth ;)

It’s times like these that the butterflies in my stomach remind me just why I’ve started catching feelings for this man despite all the distance between us and despite barely knowing him - he knows me more than I know him but I don’t mind it, oddly enough.

I’m fond of our connection and though I sometimes dream of something more, I’m also content with what we already have considering that ‘something more’ seems rather unattainable as of now.

My phone dings again, clearing the fog of thoughts and presenting me with a new message from Corpse.

C ~ Oh, by the way, look what I got....

That message is followed up by a picture of a ticket. A plane ticket to Georgia! 

While I’m still busy stomaching this and dealing with my quickly rising excitement, he sends another message.

C ~ I hope to catch a The Silver Rays concert while I’m there. Heard they had an adorable frontwoman ;)

My breath catches in my throat as a wide grin spreads across my face. The thought of having Corpse so close to me sends those aforementioned butterflies in my stomach into a raving mood and they practically explode my insides with excitement and joy like I’ve never felt it before. I can’t wrap my brain around the fact that we’re about to go from having an entire country between us, to being just some ways away - him in the audience and me on stage without a single clue of who to look for. That’s part of the excitement though, I guess, part of the guessing game that’s gonna make our meeting all the more interesting.

He’ll be a stranger in the crowd and I’ll be a performer on a stage - seemingly two people who have no relation whatsoever. But damn does it go beyond that: No one has to know how hard I’m falling for that stranger in the crowd.

Me ~ I’ve heard so too, can’t confirm it though

If this is gonna be a guessing game, I’ll flip the tables a bit - I won’t take any guesses. I’ll let the answer come to me. I’ll give the first move over to the stranger in the crowd, let’s see what he does.

C ~ I’ll check and let you know, don’t worry

Not worried whatsoever, Corpsie. I’m not worried at all.

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[baobaojng]

push and pull (jung jaehyun)

push and pull (jung jaehyun)

jung yoonoh (jaehyun) (idol jaehyun) x (fem! foreigner) reader - idol!au

themes: angst, fluff, smut

summary: you never expected to meet Jaehyun when you study in Korea, let alone fall in love with him. so when you’re faced with the dilemma of the reality of your life - and even more so his, the battle seems difficult to overcome.

notes: kind of established relationship (the timeline’s fucked but haha joke’s on me), reader and jaehyun are honestly super angsty,  unprotected sex (wrap it up in real life to stay safe)

a/n: i wrote this on a whim for the past two days and aaaaaaa enjoy

wordcount: 10,152

~

There are two things Jaehyun always clarifies whenever all the guys were huddled around in the practice room.

“Yes, I’m sure nobody saw me sneak out of the dorms last night. I checked.” Jaehyun usually puts a hand up as if he’s exorcising Taeyong, who usually was very concerned about these kinds of things. This was the first thing that he always pointed out, the other guys knowing that Jaehyun probably went out (in the wee hours of the night) the most. Paps could snap photos at any given time in any given situation, and if anyone caught them sneaking out at night - new outlets and gossip sites would probably kill them in the morning with rumors and scandals.

Which brought Jaehyun to the second point, when Mark and Johnny would expectantly cross their arms together in a teasing manner. “And no, Y/N and I aren’t dating.” No matter how many times he said it, they always hoped that he’d finally say you were dating.

After all, majority of the time he snuck out to see you.

This time nobody pressed him for any more questions, especially since he volunteered to order and pay for the Chinese food they were going to eat. An attempt to avert the guys’ attention elsewhere.

Exhausted after dancing the same part of their choreography for the umpteenth time, Jaehyun checks his phone for any notifications. Hoping that somehow you’d have texted him, but texting him first was something you rarely ever did anyway. He didn’t even know why.

-

Sometimes you wonder if you’ve been imagining things. Being in Korea for the past couple of years to study (which was a real ridiculous decision knowing you were in for learning how to speak Korean and understand foreign culture while in university), having a pretty good paying part time job, and being friends with kpop idols.

It was a pretty fair thing to think at first - out of the millions of possibilities of how, when, and why you were going to somehow meet celebrities you’ve been following and supporting for years.

You met Mark and Johnny first, the two deciding on a break that day and go out to try a quiet café one of their seniors suggested. Just because it was a little bit more hidden, kind of preferential for idols who just wanted to relax in a space that wasn’t the SM building or their dorm.

Becoming a barista was something you always wanted to try out as a side job anyway, having learned some bar tricks from your cousins growing up. It wasn’t so far off from it. The job paid pretty well too, considering the fact that you were a foreigner and that it was really just a side thing for you to earn money so you could live more comfortably. To your luck, the place your former college dorm mate recommended for you to work with was a low-profile café that targeted audiences like Johnny Suh and Mark Lee. You’ve seen some celebrities come in before, but mostly the actor types.

It was a really quick acquaintance established when the two of them got to the café. You looked a little shellshocked to take their orders because you knew exactly who they were, and they found it a little interesting to find someone like you working behind the counter. Mark ordered twice and Johnny went back and forth with the Korean and the English jokes because it was fun to meet someone new in a place that was as pleasant as the café.

They came in almost every three days from then on, making the same order (after Mark tried almost everything off the menu to make sure he had a favorite), sitting on the same place, and leaving on the same time.

Of course your mind drifted off to many places, thinking about how it seemed so normal and casual for them to treat you like an old friend. For the most part you thought of them in the same way, but a little part of you remembered that they were customers (well, celebrities) and you were the lucky part-timer that took took the afternoon shifts after your classes.

Your existence probably didn’t bother them as much as they did you.

Just when you got used to the normal digital noise of people entering: Mark’s obnoxiously loud hollering to greet you and Johnny’s really lame attempt at trying to ‘step up his intercultural humor,’ they came in with somebody new one time around.

“I’m just getting the usual today, Y/N.” Johnny patted at his stomach, as if you understood the odd relationship he had with his stomach - he fondled it very carefully. A tale of self love that disturbed you just a little bit, but now you were expectantly looking at Mark.

“Sheesh, I don’t know man, I’m probably gonna upgrade sizes on my order today. I haven’t eaten since this morning.” Mark complains to Johnny as you take note of that in the touch screen computer.

Jaehyun awkwardly stood there not really knowing what to say, and you couldn’t bring it to yourself to look at him directly either. But you knew who he was anyway, you’ve probably seen so many pictures of him on the internet to know how he looked like and where his mole was on his cheek. Your peripheral vision wasn’t failing you, and it definitely never has in your lifetime.

While the other two were bickering about food portions, Jaehyun cleared his throat out noticing that you’ve been hovering over the computer screen because you were waiting for them to complete their order. Mark and Johnny were comfortable with you, and Jaehyun felt out of place.

“Just a large iced Americano.” Jaehyun asked in Korean, a little slower and a little bit weirder. He noticed how chopped up his syllables were, but only because you were a little too pretty to be taking his order and because he wasn’t sure if you could understand him. His members outright spoke to you in English.

“Have you eaten?” You boldly asked him referring to Johnny and Mark’s debacle on food, assuming he probably wanted something to eat with his drink because that’s how his members ordered.

He became a little flustered, picking up on the impressive Korean accent you had when you responded to him in Korean, the honorifics perfectly done too. In the same instant his stomach grumbled, and he realized that the answer to your question was no - he hadn’t eaten anything all day actually. Even forgot to eat the apple he brought into his and Jungwoo’s room.

“I— uh,” he continuously stammers, his right hand gripping his left shoulder as a mannerism. Obviously he’s a little overwhelmed by the food choices on the menu. You just flash a little smile to him as encouragement, not even directly looking his way. “What’s your favorite?” He asks and it throws you off a little, you wouldn’t have expected him to ask for a recommendation.

You have to look at him now to be a little more respectful, and when you do— god. Jesus, god, Christ. What was it you said about seeing many photos of him online anyway? Nope, wrong. The millions of photos online didn’t do him any justice whatsoever. He was just unreal in the flesh.

“It’s a little embarrassing.” You’re the one flustered, feeling your cheeks heat up because he’s looking right at your eyes. Meeting your bias in your work uniform wasn’t the ideal situation, it made you feel like putty.

“I’ll take that though, whatever it is.” He hands you his black card (which you find out he does because he offered to pay for everyone’s food, and because he wanted to show off to you), and your fingers brush for a split second. A breathy giggle leaves your lips and you ask him to do the necessary things to have the food credited to his card.

“Thank you.” You mumble under your breath before giving his card back, the three deciding to sit where the two would usually sit. You got to making the drinks while your co-worker served their food to them, a little hyped up that the ‘Cherry Bomb’ dudes brought another member this time around. At this you laugh a little, trying to make a clearer working environment for yourself because your first encounter with Jaehyun had you a little bothered.

It was one thing to say that nobody should have fazed you by now, but you felt like a high schooler - weak at the knees and slowly losing confidence. Stealing the shortest of glances over at Jaehyun, catching him look back at you. Although maybe it was just a trick of your imagination.

But you weren’t imagining things, Jaehyun found himself in a brief state of confusion ever since he saw you when he entered not more than fifteen minutes ago. Having crushes was definitely normal, but you had this very inviting feeling about you.

Mark seemed to notice that Jaehyun was completely out of the loop with the dumb topic Johnny offered onto the table, following where his hyung’s eyes flickered to every few seconds.

“Y/N’s cute, huh?” Mark says, but it sounds less like a question than it’s supposed to be. He knows that Jaehyun never really seems interested in meeting other people, it was probably half the fact that Jaehyun maintained an unamused face in whatever circumstance, and this was a rare instance.

Jaehyun knows he’s caught, but he pulls off the realest fake cough he can. “Yeah, she seems cool.” He plays off like it’s nothing and the other two understand what the answer means even beyond what Jaehyun meant. He was interested.

This time when you try to steal a glance, all three of them are looking at you. But you decide to shoot daggers when you make eye contact with Johnny and Mark, knowing like hell they were intimidated by you at this point. You’ve threatened them jokingly countless of times before for making fun of you or making too much noise, but they always were so genuinely scared. You see the way Jaehyun’s dimples appear when he laughs as he sees his members flinch at you squinting your eyes at them.

“Hoobin,” you call over to your co-worker who was just about to serve the food to the three guys you were having an eye battle with, “I’ll take over, I think you should take an early time out today.” It was a bold decision, and thankfully Hoobin didn’t think twice after being bribed with having to work less. There was no room for you to hesitate, and for some reason you felt a little more confident.

After that you take their food over to their table, Johnny inviting you to pull up an extra chair from the unoccupied table behind. Mark tells you to stay more than five minutes because they “miss you” (as if they don’t see you at least twice a week,) which causes Jaehyun to kick him discretely under the table. That afternoon, Jaehyun sits silently as he eats what he presumed to be your favorite thing off of the menu (which he decided has become his new favorite food order as well) - listening to you talk about your life. Details about how you’re doing well in class these days and this part time job not being much of a hassle.

It was a little unnerving, having him be quiet there. You weren’t so sure if he was uninterested or maybe he didn’t care who you were. All that wasn’t supposed to matter, but something in the back of your head told you that your first impressions should matter. Especially when it came to him.

When you leave to greet the guy taking over the night shift, Jaehyun briefly compliments your food choice because he was looking for some sort of way to say good bye and thank you.

“It’s really no problem,” you chime in, “I’m pretty surprised you liked it.”

Well, Jaehyun was too. He wasn’t the kind to really indulge into something, and he had a feeling that he probably liked it because he was more interested in trying to relate to you.

Johnny and Mark end up not shutting up about how he was so lovestruck by you, even when they got home to the dorms.

Since then Jaehyun came by more often, and to his relief he went there alone. At first always just getting a coffee and quietly sitting down where you could see him, and where he could perfectly see you. Sometimes coming in with Mark and Johnny, and the rare occurrence that they dragged along Yuta and Jungwoo (who quickly became your friends, to Jaehyun’s own disappointment - at not being able to articulate any sense of bravery when he saw you.)

But then he got more attentive and took note to arrive five minutes before your shift ended. The first time he did that, he asked you to stay behind to just have a drink with him because you technically weren’t working anyway.

You couldn’t say no, even though you didn’t know what he was asking you to stay for. Only two minutes of awkward silence passed until he took a crack at a lame joke to fill the air, the two of you ending up bursting with laughter just because it was that bad. Somehow, spending the rest of the afternoon up till the evening just discussing all kinds of things with each other. Leaving the details of your personal lives away, but Jaehyun had no intention of not knowing; he took his chance at asking for your number because he liked talking to you. Even if it meant talking about the milk froth the steaming machine created, and how the smell of coffee when he entered the room always soothed him.

You were a bunch of nerves waiting to be spilt out. The idea of hanging out with Jaehyun was fun, but mostly scary.

-

Being friends with Jaehyun felt a little too much like hiding a secret. Like that time when you got that tattoo and tried to hide it from your mother, scared she’d see when you were too comfortable lazying around the house.

Every time you fell into comfort hanging out with Jaehyun, a voice at the back of your head always reminded you that your relationship wasn’t normal. You had to lay low, be more careful, never a moment where you weren’t vigilant about your surroundings.

Of course it wasn’t normal, definitely not normal for you. There were things you could only plan through words because it meant a lot of risk actually going out to try them in public.

The reality didn’t really bug you that much before; you could say you were content with his company, having so much as prolonged hours with coffee or him going to the cute little studio type apartment you rented near your school’s campus. Now, it was a little bit more bothersome.

Mostly because you swear that it’s the easiest thing in the world— to fall in love with Jaehyun. It was great talking to him, behind what you were used to seeing on camera he’d say things you wouldn’t have thought he’d ever say. Jaehyun had knowledge woven into him in everything he ever mentioned, he tried even in times when he was unsure. There were conquests in his eyes, the way his face would light up in that stupidly handsome dimpled smile. You wanted to try them all, you were sure as hell you wouldn’t hold back if you were given the chance.

But the hard parts of reality always kept you from gambling, from telling him how you felt even though you were sure that he had a good idea of your feelings anyway.

The two of you were having red wine on your living room floor despite the cold of the apartment. He came over about an hour and a half ago, drenched by the rain on his way.

Jaehyun rested his head on the couch, and you notice that his hair is still damp. He’s staring at your ceiling while a sigh leaves his lips.

“You alright?” You ask him, straightening the way you were sitting on the floor.

“Yeah.” He answers anyway, although you know what the fake tone implies. He isn’t.

“Really? You won’t tell me that you aren’t fine?”

It’s not that he doesn’t want to, in fact he’s sure that he always tells you when he feels a little off the rails. Honestly it’s a little hard to trace back the time when he got so comfortable with you, it feels like the two of you just melted into each other’s worlds without ever noticing that you have. Every dumb text and every sneaky hang out.

“I guess I just don’t want to have a heavy conversation with you for once is all.”

You laugh a little, “I don’t care if we both end up screaming and crying, Jae. If you don’t feel good I definitely want to know. How many times will I tell you that it’s much better if you started talking about how you feel?”

Getting rid of that habit was a little hard for him; getting used to always presenting himself on camera as somebody who barely flinched. Somehow it seeped through to who he really was, and it was something that frustrated you when he first talked about this. Bottling up the way he felt just because he thought he needed to be perfect just angered you. You found yourself deeply concerned about him detaching himself with the reality that nobody could ever be perfect, but nobody had to be either.

“I swear this time it’s okay.” His dimples appear in a passive smile, but you playfully shove his arm in response. Careful not to spill any of the wine from his glass to your fluffy grey carpet.

“Liar.” You accuse as you roll your eyes.

To him you look all cute when you’re annoyed. He was going to prolong this for as long as he could; it made a squeezing sensation just between his heart and his lungs. He’d be dumb to say that he didn’t feel anything for you, because he did.

Jaehyun felt a plethora of things.

He felt happy every time he saw you, no matter how rough you claimed to look - even when you admitted you were far too insecure to present yourself to him. Once you called him when you were far out drunk, telling him you believed him to be directly made by God (if there ever was one.) He felt sad when he had to go. When time would have him leave you, because he had this incessant need to be around you for as long as it could. He felt angry too, knowing he wanted to give you so much more. He knew he didn’t just want to be your friend, but what he did for a living prevented him from giving you these things. Possibility of rejection aside, he knew he couldn’t just be around you whenever he wanted and whenever you needed.

“I’ll tell you when I feel like I’ve understood myself.” He promises, admitting you’re right.

That was good enough for you to brush it off; if he didn’t want to talk about it then you wouldn’t press him any further. You weren’t in the mood to put up a fight either, and maybe it was something you wouldn’t understand.

Finishing the wine that filled up half of your glass in one go, you turn to look at him. Not catching how he watched you down the whole thing like a mad man, he tenses because he knows something’s up. You hardly ever shoot down alcohol like that unless you were calming your nerves.

You had something to say, it was the reason why you called him over to hang out in the first place.

“I’m leaving soon.” It’s quick and simple, maybe the one line you chose that delivered the most impact when you were going over how to tell him. You found out you passed the semester a few days ago, and this meant that you had to leave Korea now. A job was already waiting for you in New York - somewhere you always planned on going after you finished up Fashion Design in Seoul. Truth be told, you never expected to pick up friendships— never expected to meet and be as close to Jaehyun when you decided to work in a café. But it became your reality, and the truth of your temporary time in Korea was catching up to you.

“Huh?” He only makes a sound, a little confused when you see his canines just through where his mouth parts. Eyebrows brought together by the lack of context.

“I mean I’m graduating in three weeks, just after other students fix their reconsiderations.” You explain holding in a breath for what you were about to say, even though you’ve practiced it about a hundred times in the mirror, “but after graduation I’m leaving Korea.”

And there it is, the bomb was dropped.

Jaehyun’s mind would like to pretend like he didn’t understand what you just said. In fact he even wanted to play dumb just so you could tell him this was a terrible joke, but you were looking at him the way you always looked at him when you were vulnerable - when you were being completely humanly honest with him.

He doesn’t say anything, not sure how he’ll react. Instead you begin rambling to fill in for the silence, a bad habit you always had. “It’s fine if you don’t want to hang out anymore, I’m not sure how good bye’s are supposed to work,” he doesn’t gloss over what you say, “the possibility of us maintaining this friendship thing is very low anyway.”

“Is that what you think of me? I’d just let go quickly, is that it?” He’s a little hurt; it’s the first time you’ve ever assumed anything of him that actually hurt.

“No,” you shake your head, “but you aren’t the type to forget what life is really like, and who you really are.”

He’s a little burnt, maybe because he knows exactly what you mean. The whole idol thing he got into was consuming. People he used to know were distant, it was even harder to keep up friendships and contact family, they’d meet people all the the time and have them come and go. If anything there was a lot of insecurity and pressure about the way he acted, the way he looked.

He brings his fingertips to scratch over the nape of his head as if he’d be able to claw out answers, or maybe a good response. “Doesn’t mean that I should lose you.” The coarseness of his voice seeps through.

You shrug, sliding your empty wine glass somewhere you wouldn’t knock it over. “People lose other people all the time.”

“You’re really trying to make yourself seem that disposable, aren’t you?” He eyes his glass, the red liquid swirling along with his subtle movements. He can’t find it in himself to look at you, but you’re lucky enough to feel small - not wanting to deal with the scrutiny you were expecting to feel if he did look at you.  If he looked at you now and if he tried to memorize every pore, it would make it feel final.

“Jaehyun,” you use his name, swearing to yourself before that you’d rarely call him this so it would set the tone if you were trying to be serious about something, “I got you into trouble the other day because you snuck out again. No, actually I got you into more trouble than what’s good for you.”

“But I don’t mind that; I’m willing to get in trouble for you even if I get scolded for it.” He admits. For you. Words that probably don’t mean what you think they should, but they do.

“See you’re not so good at thinking about how you also get hurt, Jaehyun. Don’t you think about how hard it’ll be for you if you keep doing that for other people?”

He hisses. “I just told you that I don’t care about that.”

Your legs awkwardly shift around, “but I care about that.”

“If you cared about me enough then you wouldn’t mind it, because you know that spending time with you like this makes me happy.” Jaehyun bites down on his lower lip, suppressing a confession from making it any further off his mouth. “I don’t want to be afraid of losing someone, that isn’t the way to live.”

Compared to how he’s holding back, you can’t just help but take advantage of the wine buzzing through from the back of your eyes to the bridge of your nose. Closing your eyes hoping like the dark will swallow you alive after you say it, you shut them tight.

“I think I love you too much to resist saying no.”

It’s not an instance. It feels like years.

It feels like you’re on a rollercoaster with no safety belt on while you brace yourself for the worst. The plunging silence of all the different memories you’ve associated with Jaehyun. The different scents of expensive perfume he bought, the kind that wouldn’t go away even after he showed up after a work out session. How his ears and his knuckles turned a deep shade of red when it was cold outside, winter season passing you by through worn out coats and you’re lame attempts at teaching him how to wear scarves. His tragic attempts at small talk, never knowing exactly what to say - but always saved by your inability to shut up when faced with anything awkward. The deep honey amber of his voice, each uncomfortable slip of the tongue when he mispronounced things and got embarrassed. Those stupid songs you heard in the background that always somehow reminded him of you from those moments on.

It takes these long seconds for you to prepare to lose him. And maybe it’s what you want; if he decides to reject you know and turn you over like a criminal taken down, maybe it would mean that it would be easier for you to leave him.

The rejection doesn’t come, only the pensive silence of his shock.

He’s still trying to process things. Because you could have said ‘I love you too much as a friend,’ but he also knows you don’t use the word love lightly. In fact you’ve argued about the word multiple times. Accusing him of being too loose with the term. Back then he could easily say that he loved his grey bedsheets, that he loved gardens and clay potted plants. But now, after knowing your perspective on the word, he could only really say he really liked them.

He loves his family, his band members, his cat. He loves his piano, loved his hands. He loves the fans. And he loves you.

It’s his turn to down the rest of his drink, and somehow the last drops taste bitter at the end.  Maybe because the wine had become warm, and his throat’s burning with the words he wants to say.

“Do you love me the way I love you?” Is not exactly how he planned to confess, but you look at him with teary eyes because you don’t need for him to say it twice to know what he means either.

Yes, you think. You loved him to the stars, to where your heart used to cry at sweet nothings of Instagram fan videos of Jaehyun even before you met him. You loved him as a stranger, a fan, an avid fan. You loved him even more now, as a man who breathes air as any other would (which surprised you at first, you thought gods never needed oxygen - but this one did.) You loved him as a real living fixture of bone, skin - imperfections you looked past.

His lips don’t taste like much aside from the wine, the rare instance that he gets you to drink the red kind and you’re doing this. Kissing him past your faintly stained teeth.

But you can feel his warmth, especially now that his hands have lead you to sit on his thighs - calloused fingers tracing back and forth through your jaw like the first time they’ve ever grazed on skin. Your fingers tread along his damp hair, bunching them up similar to how it looks when stylists slick his hair back for him.

Yes. He knows your answer is yes, because he’s never been kissed like this. So much unspoken gentleness, quiet excuses and hushed moans through and through sending goosebumps along his arm. He’s never been kissed in a way that held words. Nobody had ever kissed a confession into his tongue, never with the swirling and nibbling across the lower lip.

He doesn’t think he’s had time to kiss like this either. Jaehyun knows a lot, he’s touched a lot. But always in the quiet of secret, always rushed plans - thinking about how to not get his members into trouble, how not to make a stir in the public eye.

Jaehyun wants to forget the world in your kiss as he finds himself drowning into yours in a matter of a kiss. No— he knew he dipped a toe into the water when you asked him if he ate that day he first met you. And he dove right under all at once when he realized he couldn’t get enough.

Hands are traveling over your waist, your arms wrapping around his neck so delicately. He thinks you are what beauty demands when you two catch your breaths to look at each other, a smile cracking onto your features when you realize how sappy this all is.

“We need to learn how to stop holding back.” You suggest, and his eyes beam at you.

“Honestly we tell ourselves that all the time, we tell other people that way too much too. It’s just that we’re to scared to let go and just do it.” He says in a deep whisper. “So you love me, huh?”

You want to flick the sly look he has on his face, “don’t push it.”

“But you just said we should stop holding back.” He traces the bone of your jaw, just near where it tingles by your ear.

“We might end up saying I love you too much that we might get tired of saying it.” Lame excuses spill from your mouth, things you don’t mean just pop up into your mind because you’re nervous as hell.

-

By the first week, Jaehyun proves you wrong. Neither of you grow tired of saying I love you, it seems like you can’t go on not saying it at least once every hour. You can’t get enough of skin on skin in every second you’re together.

And it’s sinful as much as it is innocent, rough as it is loving. The first time he goes too far, tugging at the waistband of your cotton shorts - the too big neckline of your sweater exposing collarbones.

His hands recoil, not wanting to rush you into anything. But you find that you don’t mind, if it’s him then there’s no reason to hesitate.

“Take me,” you whisper, his eyes sincerely looking into your own in case he can find any trace of doubt, “take all of me.” His stupidly manly chin clenches along with his jaw.

Love is a whirlwind and you’re leading him to sweet chaos. Lips on lips like every kiss is the first. He hovers above you so gently, only enough weight to press your heart enough. You feel like you’re going to explode.

Clothes are let go like shedding second skin - but with no pain, no pauses.

You are the first to be completely naked, lying beneath him in the warm dim lighting of your lamp. Only his torso is exposed, and you can’t say you haven’t seen the expanse of skin in posts on the internet - but seeing it only inches away from your own heaving chest makes it look so unreal.

On instinct you try to cover your chest with your arms, but Jaehyun gently pulls them apart.

His thumbs slide from your shoulders, reaching the hardened peaks of your nipples. Jaehyun’s touch lingering a little longer at the swell of your breasts, mesmerized by something he’s seen a lot - but only because it’s you.

“You’re making this impossible for me.” The voice he speaks in is ragged, enamored by how your chest also irregularly rises and falls.

“What do you mean?” You pause, but get caught in surprise when his wet tongue licks at your nipple. A gasp leaves your lips and he responds with an innocent smirk.

“It’s enough that you love me,” he plants a kiss at your shoulder blades, “enough that you let me love you,” another one on your right breast, “but you want to give yourself to me like this too?” he nuzzles into your chest. “Y/N, are you even real?”

He asks you like you haven’t already been asking that question for millions and millions of times, but he doesn’t know that.

When you respond with only an ‘I love you,’ he still doesn’t believe you’re real. Even until he inserts a finger into your core, curling them as he watched your tensed muscles relax under his touch. Adding in another finger, his thumb massaging your clit - only your moans and your sighs fill his ears.

You’re every sensation, every taste he wants on his tongue.

“Jaehyun.” You gasp over and over as he pumps in and out, fascinated with what only his hands can do. Although you’re on a cloud in paradise, feeling your nerves tense up with every centimeter of movement.

“Yes baby?” He coos as he feels you twitch, trying to resist the overwhelming sensations he’s providing. Not stopping until he feels your walls tighten and tighten around his fingers, your hips moving uncontrollably. With the pace he’s going, you find yourself cumming already.

“Jaehyun!” Your back arches, and he rubs at your overstimulated mound just to ogle at you. You feel whole when he slips inside of you after your almost limbless feeling attempt at taking off his sweatpants, feeling up every expanse he was setting in. He’s big, bigger than what you would have thought. “Fu– Fuck!” You curse under your breath, hissing at his girth.

“You’re so,” he grunts as he starts to move, but your pussy has a vice like grip and it won’t seem to adjust to his size, “so so good.”

There’s an impossible adjustment in your core, but he hits your sensitive spots just right. He seems to pull out more and plunge in deeper - becoming bolder with movement. You try your best not to close your eyes and look at his pair of diluted brown ones. Jaehyun’s got his mouth in a tight line, a dimple popping out as he tries to contain his grunts. The pace your heart beats is impossibly fast, and you wonder why even now that you’ve given all of yourself he makes you feel this way.

Even through the way he cups his hand over your hair, stealing kisses every chance he can get, quickening his pace until you’re moving the bed - somehow he causes this unbearable fluttering in your chest.

“I love you.” You whisper and he halts, catching you off guard. But he thrusts again, kissing any spot of skin his lips could find at the same time.

“I love you.” He repeats even as he runs out of breath. “I love you. I love you. I love you.” The vowels and consonants blend together until in your state of pleasure, the phrase starts to deconstruct - to make less sense. But your hips are arching into his and your fingers are crumpling at the fine linen sheets.

It would be the second time you were cumming, grabbing onto the taut muscles of his forearms clenching around his cock in your convulsions.

This made him go even faster, filling you up with his cum and softly laying against you. Grunting at the sensations.

That night he cleans the two of you up, wanting to snuggle up next to you for the rest of the night.

It’s in love, being in awe about loving someone you still thought was universes and galaxies away. It’s in love of him, the gentle caresses of lamp light upon his face - shadows of his lashes casting on his cheeks. It’s in love of you, the most unexpected kind of person he found completion in.

Somehow the two of you forget that you’re running out time.

-

Guilt is still a foreign concept to you.

It’s something you think about when you sneak out of Jaehyun’s dorm room after a night of making love (after kicking Jungwoo out to sleep in Taeyong’s room, of course.)

You stare at his peacefully sleeping figure, his arms lazily fishing out for your body and you silently thank heavens that he reaches out for a pillow and thinks that it’s you. Because you look at him like this, you look at the mess the two of you have made, and you remember the ‘I love you’ he told you tonight and what it truly implied.

For the past few days of this second week, he’s been telling you he’d do anything for you. Before the prospects of time were realized the two of you were blinded:  him by his own selfish denial of wanting to try, and your generous want to wait.

Until you reminded yourself of who you both were. He would never give this life up, you thought thinking about how much he loved what he did. Singing, dancing, performing - being somebody he constantly tried to rebuild and rebuild and rebuild through all the criticism he received. He still loved it; you’d see that shine in his eyes whenever he talked about his job. How he wouldn’t trade it for anything. And you out of all people would know the feeling of loving something you did. And though you’ve thought of the possibility that he would give it all up for you, you didn’t want to make that choice for him.

Imagining him in the future regretting choosing you instead of chasing his dreams.

You think, sure, maybe if you loved someone enough you would consider giving up all your dreams - everything you worked hard for. Being with the person you loved seemed important enough, although you probably wouldn’t say that you were happy to give up the thing you wanted to pursue.

And of course it was different for Jaehyun, it was different by magnitudes.

“I love you, you know that - right?” He asks you by the end of the second week, although he hasn’t been keeping track. His hands are tracing random patterns on your arms as you lay on the couch with you head on his lap.

All the two of you seem to do is talk about love, and deep down he has to admit that it’s his sneaky way of trying to convince himself that you’re always going to be together. Because when you say those three words back to him, the ribbons of skin that creases with your smile tantalize him.

You just nod, too afraid of making him misunderstand you. For all you know he’s ready to jump ship, but you don’t want him to because he has more oceans to explore.

This is your newfound best friend, formerly only really acquainted with: insecurity.

You wonder if you’re the first he’s ever looked this way to. After all, he’s trained to be charming - trained to always look the part of the ‘first love’ persona he has to carry around. You wonder how easy it would be for him if things didn’t work out between the two of you; thousands of girls came pouring onto him anyway.

The feeling made you small, your mind treading through all kinds of green monsters that didn’t actually exist.

It was a little ridiculous, comparing yourself to every other possibility available to him. He could have anyone he wanted. Someone who was prettier, someone who was Korean - maybe they’d understand him better, or an idol - maybe they’d be the perfect combination.

“Fuck.” He whispers into your ear, as he ruts his cock into you. His right hand is tugging at your hair and you’re carelessly panting in pleasure.

You were barely undressed, only covered in one of his very old sweaters. And he wasn’t much naked either, still wearing the hoodie he wore to the studio.

Apparently practice was tiring today, and they got an ear load from the managers about not meeting some kind of quota. You were feeling a little bit annoyed by graduation preparations for the day, so the two of you found yourselves exhausting frustrations onto each other.

Pressed up against his warm white skin like this, you wonder how long you can make this last in your memory.

Convulsing in overstimulation, you choke out some sobs as your hands messily search for something to grab. His thighs, his arms, any inch of him. Like you were grabbing out for something to take with you when you inevitably have to go.

You want to memorize all of him that you can. When he whispers praises into your ear, when he grunts and uses a little bit more force when he cums inside of you. But also when he kisses at the base of your neck when he’s done. When he only wants to cuddle for the rest of the night and talk about all that’s weighing on his chest.

“Baby?” Jaehyun whispers when you stir in his grasp as the two of you cuddle up in bed.

Being honest is not in your cards, but you remember what you told him fifteen days ago about not holding back. And you think that you were an absolutely overly positive liar.

“Yuno.” His name is course when it leaves your lips, and it doesn’t go ignored by him. “How are we going to make this work out?”

Eyebrows knitting together in confusion, he doesn’t let his confusion go unnoticed. “What?”

You offer him some pathetic semblance of a smile as you slide your fingertips slowly on his arm. “I’m still leaving for New York, you know?” You want him to react differently. In fact you want him to get angry or disappointed, you want him to let go of you so that you won’t have to deal with him letting go of himself just to manage a relationship.

But he doesn’t.

“I know.” He kisses at your temple, “actually I’ve been thinking about it.”

“What’s there to think about?”

Jaehyun hums, “just say the word and I’ll drop everything for you.”

You manage to free yourself off of his grasp within seconds, turning to face him in disbelief. “Jaehyun, no,” you plead with him through the look in your eyes, “don’t.”

“Why?” He looks even frustrated, because just like you - this isn’t the reaction he expected.

“I don’t want you to leave this all behind just because of me,” you feel the tears in your eyes form already, “you love this job, even if it’s too much at times. Jae— you were made to be up there with the stars.”

“Babe,” he takes you by surprise by wrapping his arms around you again, thinking it will

stop the tears from falling from your eyes but it only makes it worse because now you’re crying into his chest, “I just love you, okay? It feels like it’s all I’ve known, and I don’t want to see you this way.”

You’re sure his shirt is left damp by your tears, and you cry even harder because of how stupidly in love he is. Maybe he’s as stupidly in love as you are.

You’re probably the most insensitive, most selfish bitch to ever walk the planet.

That’s what you think the day after when you’re at the airport - bawling your eyes out like a child who’s lost their favorite toy. You have so many bags packed up and you leave in an hour.

You texted Jaehyun earlier today and told him you’d be busy until late because of graduation preparations, but that was a huge lie. Actually you decided not to attend the graduation ceremony and just get your diploma sent out. When he told you he loved you last night you knew it was dangerous for the two of you now, so you thought to clear out your apartment with the help of your co-worker Hoobin and and a few other friends - then book the earliest flight to New York that you could. The place hiring you was eager to have you in anyway.

The goal was to make sure you wiped out any trace of yourself, just so Jaehyun wouldn’t be tempted to find you.

-

Months pass by and you haven’t heard a single from Jaehyun, and truth be told you’ve been trying to avoid everything related to Korean Pop music altogether.

You think that you don’t deserve to hurt, or even miss him. You don’t deserve to yearn for a stupid text or a stupid letter. This is what you wanted. Blocking any form of contact you had with him and the guys and made sure nobody from university gave away your information no matter how much they’d bribe. You checked in once in a while with Hoobin if any of the boys still went to the café, and apparently it was only Johnny and Mark who came around.

No one spoke a word about you, no one ever asked.

Disappearing from the face of the earth like you were some ghost. You were able to do it.

New York was different, a little louder. The structures of buildings were definitely different, but you got used to getting around after a month.

Once in a while you’d go on your usual social media run through and see a video of Mark or Taeyong, and you’d skip as fast as you could in case Jaehyun’s face would appear. They would look different in photos - hair colors changing.

On accident you saw a photo or two of their recent comeback because one of your co-workers was into k-pop and you just couldn’t avoid it.

A picture never hurt anyone, but you learned that it could. You saw Jaehyun again in the photos, this time with hints of green in his locks. The world itself seemed to be turning against you when you’d see him in fashion magazines, as if he was shoving it in your face.

Guilt is no longer a foreign concept to you, and each time you’re reminded of him it hurts you so much.

He looks better lately, you think. Although the bags under his eyes say he hasn’t been well rested, but you aren’t around to tell him to get some sleep anymore. He seems to be working out more, the muscles really making themselves prominent under his favorite black shirts. He’s gotten way more popular individually too, and it’s something you think he’s always deserved anyway.

In your head you try so hard to reduce Jaehyun back into a handsome face popular online in a completely foreign country, maybe if you disassociated your relationship with him it would be easier to cope with having to see his face once in a while when you didn’t mean to.

You hope he’s forgotten about you, you hope he’s not as messed up as you are. In fact, you hope he’s decided to hate you with every fibre of his being. You hope he’s found somebody else who’s a much better fit, someone who can be his best friend and his lover.

Work has been good, great even. You’ve already been offered a few shoots to be in charge of in the Spring editorial of the magazine.

“Hey Y/N, a client specifically called for you last night but you already left so I just gave them your cell. They might be calling soon, is that alright?” The girl at the front desk tells you when you get to work that morning, you just nod quickly because the coffee you picked up on the way to work might spill.

True enough the phone at your desk rings about thirty minutes later.

“This is Y/N Y/L/N, how may I entertain you?” You greet casually, getting rid of the pumps you were wearing on your feet as you relaxed in your office chair.

“Hey, my favorite barista.” The very voice you know as Mark Lee’s is very recognizable, and you’re tempted to hang up but you don’t.

“Hey Mark!” You say, a little too enthusiastically, but he sounds like he doesn’t hate you so maybe this was the right mood to set.

“Don’t ask how I got your office number,” he chuckles, “it was so easy to google search your name because it’s on the homepage of the website for the place you work.” He already reasons out but you laugh it off.

“Yeah it’s fine, it’s comforting to hear an old friend’s voice.” You assure him. “So, you want some clothes done or what?”

He laughs and you try to listen in if there’s background noise, you wonder if he’s in his dorm room alone or if he’s with the other members. “Actually no, not really, but if you still have one of those jackets from your catalog two months ago then can I order one? It was lit.” The word choice is casual, so Mark.

“Oh yeah, just send me over your measurements and I’ll get one custom made.” You take note with one of your post its, “but why else would you call me?”

“You know, Jaehyun hyung.” He clears his throat because you know Mark Lee can’t handle more than three seconds of anything awkward.

You dread this conversation already, “what about him?” You bite your lip like you’re ready to get scolded, but thankfully Mark isn’t like that.

“Look, I know you haven’t heard from us and we haven’t heard from you. None of us know if you’ve moved on with your life, but I’m like sure Jaehyun hyung’s still a walking train wreck about it. We all know that he has no plans to move on.” He admits.

“I’m not doing any better here either.” It’s pretty self-explanatory, and Mark knows it means you still love Jaehyun.

“Yeah, I get that. The two of you are just really dumb you know?” It’s like he finds this a little entertaining.

“Why’s that?” You want to ask him, because you doubt he’s going to give any useful advice.

“Your idea of the best possible scenario is making him leave you behind to pursue his own path, and his idea of the best possible scenario is dropping everything for you and to follow you wherever you are. But hasn’t it occurred to the two of you dumbasses that it will work out if you leave each other be? It only matters if you two love each other even if you’re miles away.” He blurts out in one go and you’re pleasantly surprised, “just call him or call me first when you’re ready. You can trace my number back so just do that if you want to.” He hangs up before you can say anything.

-

You almost choke on your bagel when you see NCT 127 on morning television the day after Mark called you. Yep, you knew you should have put the cream cheese; this bite was hard to swallow now that you were watching them.

So you rush into work again, same hot coffee in your hands as you make your way up to your office floor. Thank god you could hide in the privacy of the office space you had, working in the company meant that they gave you free space to be able to make clothes and relax.

Except when you get there you find out that your concept of having a safe space was completely destroyed. Safe spaces didn’t exist when the things you were running away from

were chasing you from inside your mind. In this case it was made even worse; the thing (person, to be technically correct about it) you were running away from came in the form of Jeong Jaehyun.

He’s just staring there at you, green highlighted hair and all. Same suede shoes, same black shirt, and same olive green jacket.

“What are you doing here?” You’re choking on words but he still stares at you like how Patrick Verona looked at Kat Stratford in that poem reading scene in 10 Things I Hate About You. A look you’ve never thought a guy would ever give to you - but hey, Jaehyun was. In a bittersweet way, he could play that tole.

“Have you eaten?” He pushes your queries aside but he still looks at you like that.

“I almost asphyxiated on a bagel a while ago, actually.” Because of him, you just add in your mind.

“And now you’re drinking coffee?” He chuckles to himself as his eyes shamelessly scan to more than just your coffee cup, “aren’t you tired of that stuff?” You know he remembers that one time you said you were never going near a coffee bean ever again that one time you were tired from your part time job.

That organ in your chest aches, and when you answer with silence it hurts even more.

Why wasn’t he screaming at you?

Why didn’t he look like he was angry?

Why wasn’t he telling you that you were a heartless bitch?

Why was he just standing there looking at you like the first time?

Coffee cup forgotten as you set it down on your desk, Jaehyun standing there looking frozen. He can feel the shift in your posture too, like the two of you have perfected the art of reading each other’s body language.

“This is the part when you tell me you hate my guts, you know?” Your words are teetering uncomfortably, and you’re suddenly hyperaware of all the goosebumps that line your skin.

“I don’t hate you,” he sighs and you notice that he isn’t even running low on patience, nothing angry nor negative replaces his demeanor. Jaehyun remains to be warm, even as you stand far apart. “Why would I ever hate you?” He asks.

When you find it a little bit hard to breathe Jaehyun continues to speak. “I haven’t seen you in so long and you look a bit different in appearance, but I could never be mad at you. I haven’t heard your voice in months aside from the videos I kept in my phone, but I could never resent you. Y/N, I’m standing right in front of you in New York fucking City and I know I don’t have it in me to think a single negative thing about you. I love you even if you’re difficult like that.” He takes five steps forward, but he’s still about ten steps too far away.

Everything rational about you, everything that tells you that this is a mistake shuts down. You want to dissect every single thing about Jaehyun and make all kinds of most probable assumptions about him, but now you know you’re awfully wrong. Every fear you’ve fabricated in your head is the exact opposite thing Jaehyun would have ever done.

“When you disappeared, I knew where you were. I cried like a loser all the time, but I thought that if this was what you wanted then I’d try my best to give you that. Maybe we jumped on way too quickly when we realized we were in love and we stopped thinking logically, but I had so much time and space to think. This time I’m sure about what I want, and it’s still you.” He finishes, taking ten slow steps toward you.

Now you’re a mess of tear works. What kind of man would hang onto love for so long without being sure if your love had also stayed?

“You’re not supposed to want me anymore.” It sounds like you’re sobbing on your words.

He scoffs, but only because it’s ridiculous how much you want him not to love you. “You’re all I want, you’re all I ever want.” His fingertips find their way to tuck your stray strands of hair behind your ear, and your head tilts to face him - his figure towering against yours. While you’re aware you probably look like a whole mess, he looks at you like you’re the most precious thing his eyes have ever lain on. “You can tell me you don’t love me anymore and I’ll try to move on, but I know I can’t. Or you can tell me you love me and we can make this work without putting our own lives on hold.” He proposes, and you sniffle.

“Of course I still love you,” you punch softly at his chest, frustrated that he could love you like this, “I could have ended up in the North Pole and I know I’d still love you.” You cry even harder, but he wraps you up tightly in his arms - your head buried in his chest.

You relish in this comfort, the familiar beat of his heart and the warmth he exudes. You feel at home again.

“Don’t leave me again.” He asks of you and you nod quickly.

“God, we’re so stupid.” You mutter, tears are still falling from your eyes but at a slower rate.

“I can’t say it’s stupid if we took the time to learn.” He looks so proud of himself at his attempt to sound wise, but you take your small hands and smooth it over his jaw. Thumb on the dimple that peeks when he smiles down at you.

“I’m sorry.” You tell him, but he nods ever so slightly.

“I understand.” He shushes you by closing the distance between your lips, and your heart feels stuffed.

-

Flying from New York to Seoul and back again is tiring, but you weren’t complaining.

The stylists that worked with Mark really liked the jacket you made for him (yes, he really did actually order one) and asked where he got it. A few arrangements later and you’ve graduated from a part time working barista, to foreign exchange student in fashion school, to a trusted collaborative designer for the boys’ clothing.

Maybe the greatest acting gig you were ever going to pull off— pretending not to be dating Jaehyun whenever the other staff members were around.

This time the boys were in the office you had in Seoul, getting measurements taken for their comeback outfits. But everyone else was lounging around in the big couches because they were done, so you were left with your boyfriend in the section where you kept your fabrics.

“Stop making my job harder.” You complain as you wrap your measuring tape around Jaehyun’s thighs.

But he smugly lets out a whistle, “you weren’t on your knees when you were measuring the other members’ pant sizes.” He teases, but he’s right - you were on your knees only for him.

To spite him you place your cheek on his thigh to pretend like you were going to do a better job if you switched up your position. “Babe, I know more about your inches than anyone here.”

“Yeah?” He’s excited.

“I even use my mouth so you can slide it in—“

“Woah, guys, language.” Johnny barges in and you immediately pull away and stand up, and Jaehyun’s just as disturbed.

“Yeah we can hear you, you know.” Mark remarks behind Johnny.

“Well then can you please warn us that we’re audible before I make innuendos about sucking off my boyfriend?” You cross your arms at the two boys who just came in, chuckling to themselves.

Jaehyun rests his chin on your shoulders from behind you, wrapping his arms upon your own.

“We made this union happen.” Mark argues, and you continue to send daggers through your eyes.

Jaehyun kisses at your cheek and Johnny and Mark make sounds of disgust, enough to make them scramble away when you kiss Jaehyun’s cheeks back.

The two of you laugh, catching each other’s eyes when you get lost at your close proximity.

“I love you.” You both accidentally say at the same time.

And like always, you pull each other in.

Fin.

[bibliocratic]

muddle along or: the Pokemon / TMA crossover I’ve been promising @speakerunfolding for AGES jonmartin early S4

Jon considers the knapsack left for him.

Exhaustion is already feasting on any clarity he might have obtained in the near quiet. His body stiff, unused to the casual labour of his bones. The storage room, its shelves overburdened, the air vents popping like cracked knuckles, has gained nothing in his absence except a resurgence of dust and, in a dismal corner, a pile of boxes and a suitcase. A pathetic truncated shrine to his thirty odd years of living.

They moved his possessions here, when his rent went unpaid, when his water bills and council tax and internet payment reminders piled up like demanding snowdrift on his mucky welcome mat. Mutely, he glances over the hastily sellotaped boxes that now form his packaged-up life with all the distance that six months of bad dreams have afforded him.

He wonders who packed up his kitchenware, despairing at the mismatched cutlery harvested from student halls and charity-shop finds; clucked their teeth at the bread freckling mouldy in the barren landscape of his fridge; folded his clothes neatly into the suitcase he always kept stuffed under his unmade bed, even pairing up his socks; who took the books off his shelves in the belief he might thumb through them again one day.

He wonders if it was Martin.

Basira gave him the knapsack some hours ago. When he’d found some semblance of normalcy in the dull weight of a sandwich coating his stomach, dressed in clothes that now hang like rags off a coat hanger, sat at the table in the otherwise empty staff room with the heat of a cup of tea cactus-prickling his palms.

“He asked if you’d look after them,” she’d said. The strap of the bag held securely in the jaw of her Absol. “While he’s – well, you know…” She waves an exasperated done-with-it hand that manages to express a multitude of emotions that refract and merge like the morphing shades of a bruise. “Doing whatever the hell it is he’s doing. Or he thinks he’s doing.”

Jon wishes he knew.

He sits cross-legged in front of the storage room door, a sharp-boned barricade, thrumming like a struck tuning fork with the thought that even here, he will not be safe.

Gardevoir is a heavy weight against his shoulder. She’s quieter than he remembers, solemn and sombre in her new form. She used to demand being lifted up when she was Ralts, her flat red horns digging into his chest and leaving impressions, scrabbling down to shelter half-behind his legs when strangers approached. He left for the Unknowing and she’d been Kirlia, her face set and her cries insistent and infuriated, trying to push her Pokeball into his hand to make him bring her with them. Tim hadn’t asked where she was, when they all piled into the rental car, Houndoom taking up one of the seats in the back but snarling when Basira suggested putting her in her ball.

Jon doesn’t know when she evolved. It pains him, a dull-knife strike of thought, another wave against his tide-bashed flood barriers, to have slept through such a moment in her life when every other milestone they shared together.

“Now is a good a time as any, I suppose?” he asks her. His voice traces above a whisper. His Abra has calmed now, drained down from a difficult and teary reunion, and is now breathing deep and slow, curled into the port of his crossed legs. His three-fingered hands are still clenching the fabric of Jon’s shirt.

Gardevoir nods. Then gives him a nudge and a look when it seems as though he’s stalling, when he must be bleeding out apprehension like watercolours seeping through paper.

“Can’t get anything past you now, huh,” he says. She smiles, fond and he manages a short smile back, and it is almost, almost like it was before.

The bag is old, its original function probably for a laptop of some kind. The plasticky outer skin of it has rubbed away, flaking to mesh at the edges, the piping worn down to wires. Jon folds back the front of the bag, and inside there are four Pokeballs, the basic and cheapest red-and-white models. Jon had worked a thankless summer job at a beach-side amusement arcade to save up the money to get Ralts a customised ball, and had done similar when Abra came along a few years later.

To the side of the Pokeballs, ziplocked and labelled, there is a small forest of freezer bags bulging with berries and treats and care equipment. In a plastic pocket, there are precisely written instructions pertaining to each Pokemon and their requirements, and Jon’s throat tightens unexpectedly to see Martin’s looping joined-up handwriting, to see words that seem penned by someone who doesn’t expect to be coming back.

Gardevoir makes a low noise next to him. Her arm alighting on his, a solid weight, grounding. Jon clears his throat and takes out the Pokeball nearest the top, pushing the button on the front so the size balloons to fill his palm.

Most people have one Pokemon, maybe two, unless they’re involved in competitive breeding and training. When Abra came along, he remembers his gran remarking on the upkeep, how it would be his responsibility to feed and care for and train them, and it hadn’t been the cheapest venture but Jon had born the expense gladly.  It doesn’t surprise him that Martin has amassed so many in comparison to the norm.

At lunch one day years ago, the weather nipping frost-touched, they’d sat outside a cramped cafe because there’d been no seats indoors, and Martin had confessed that he was always taking them in. Thinking back, Jon knows that Martin was attempting to keep the conversation buoyant, coaxing him away from deeper, darker waters. Jon remembers being irritated, sore-eyed with sleeplessness, his spine strung with paranoia.

“My lost causes, Mum called them,” Martin had said, and his voice had tried for a levity that landed without cushioning. He’d torn off a bit from the end of his panini to feed a hopeful-looking Pidove pecking expectantly around their feet. The cause of the conversational turn, Martin’s newest acquisition, had sat grumpily mewling on the other man’s knee, wriggling and sniping as he tried to feed them some medication he’d got from the vet. Despite himself, Jon had been distracted from miring thoughts of Gertrude by watching Martin’s charade unfold, the man making a show of giving up with a theatrical sigh to scratch the Nidoran behind the ears in a show of defeat, being careful of their spikes. The Nidoran had headbutted his hand whenever his motions slowed to stopping, and Martin had used the distraction to fold a chorizo slice he’d pulled from his panini around the pill, which the Nidoran had happily snaffled from his fingers, gulping it down before returning to demand affection.

“They’ll be all healed up within the week,” Martin had continued, plastering over the continued lull with his chattering. “I’ve taken in a few Nidorans before, they tend to be pretty hardy.” He had scratched under the Nidoran’s chin as his words ebbed with the nudging of an undemanding tide.

Jon had picked at his sandwich as Martin had fold him about hiding Pidgeys and Swablus in an old shoebox under his bed, lined with the nesting material of some of his t-shirts donated to the cause. A chipped-edge bowl borrowed from the kitchen brimming with water and his own early team of Pokemon keeping them company while their wings healed in their splints before they were strong enough to leave again.

These four Pokeballs in the knapsack aren’t just random strays. They’re Martin’s Pokemon. The ones that never left him, the ones that he’s raised and doted upon and taken worriedly to the Pokecentre over every cough and sniffle and fever.

And for the meantime, they’re Jon’s.

Jon presses the release button on the first ball.

There is a chittering surprised coo as an Oddish materialises in a buzz of light and reforming matter.  They reform to stand a little higher than Jon’s ankle, only to fold their leaves half over their eyes at the unkindness of the halogen strip light. They totter when they take a step, tumbling to sitting with an affronted noise before, with a determined heft, they rock themselves up to standing again. Jon’s seen Martin’s Oddish before, approaching every walk around the assistant’s office space like a tightrope. Tim had bought them a little plant pot as a novelty Christmas gift once, and they’d unironically loved it, hopping into it cosily and getting specks of soil all over Martin’s desk.

Their leaves are poked through with ragged little holes, like they’ve been nibbled away, the green tinged in places to a sickly yellow. In the bag there is a vial of luminous blue medicine, complete with dropper and application instructions. It’s a stress thing, he dimly remembers Martin had once explained to him. It’s like an eczema, of a sort, that afflicts Grass-types, but it affects Oddish’s balance when it flares up.

The Oddish looks at Jon. They don’t have a neck as such, so they lean their whole bulb-like body backwards on their stumpy legs to study Gardevoir, who gives a reassuring blink. They glance around the storage room and its uninspired treasures of boxes and the unpromisingly weak-seeming metal frame of the cot, with a fretful shake of their leaves. They’re expecting to see someone else.

“Hello,” Jon says. He clears his throat, attempting to present a friendly face, to avoid the grimace he senses forming at his discomfort, his presentation to a critical audience that is already finding him wanting. “I’m… well, I’m Jon. You’ve probably seen me before, I’m um… I’m a f-friend of Martin’s. He’s, well, he’s not here at the moment. But he asked me to look after you. While he’s – he’s away.”

Oddish blinks their beady round red eyes. Their leaves wave uncertainly with the lazy swish of palm fronds. They coo again, a longer sound, plaintive and stretched out in melancholy. They take the opportunity to look around again, a full-body swivel that has them unbalanced, but Gardevoir leans down with a careful hand to steady them upright.

Jon watches them amble off to study their surroundings. Every so often crying out in a searching noise. Gardevoir keeps an eye on them as they rootle around in one of the boxes they can reach.

The next few releases are equally unsuccessful. Skitty reforms only to barrel under the cot as a pink-and-white blur, slinking further back with his tail swishing furiously whenever Jon addresses him. One undamaged ear twitches anxiously. The next Pokemon fails to materialise at all, refusing to leave their ball.

This was a mistake. Martin should have known better, known him enough to see that he would be no good at this, his skills in offering comfort atrophied. He can barely take care of himself, these days. Never mind additional charges who are scared, who need reassurance that is rendered rusty in his throat.

He reaches out to cradle the last ball in his cupped palms. He knows who is inside. The youngest of Martin’s acquisitions, and as far as Jon was aware, full-on adverse to getting inside a Pokeball. Their favoured mode of travel was Martin, using him as a climbing frame while he attempted to work, kicking their little feet against his forehead, clinging giggly to his mop of hair to get a better view, squealing shrill and disruptive and delighted when Martin would playfully shake his head to rock them. He thinks with the uncertainty that memory offers him, that Sasha had loved them, lifted them and pretending to throw them while they chattered and babbled, snuck them berries when Martin wasn’t looking. Jon has paid ear to more than one lecture from Martin on nutrition and proper feeding times and sugar levels. They might have played with Sasha’s own Pokemon, like they had tottered after Houndour’s short and wagging tail when she was out of her ball, like they had ran after Skitty to join in games, but that memory has been scratched from recollection like initials scored out of tree bark.

They were by nature vocal, rambunctious, unthinking and unheedful of danger, a child really, and Martin had been forever apologising when Jon would find them where they weren’t meant to be, carrying them back cautiously and carefully to Martin’s fretful hands. He thinks Martin had thought that they had irritated him. It hadn’t been that. They had been so small, smaller than they should have been for their species, the runt of some litter abandoned or lost by their parent or cracked and emerging blinking from their egg over-early. They had been so curious, and the world of the archives had grown increasingly unsafe around them. Jon had worried, in his own poorly expressed way.

He presses the button, and aims at the ground. Martin’s Togepi manifests in a fizz of red light and sound crackling like champagne.

They turn around with a confused noise.

Jon gets the chance to voice an awkward, low-pitched ‘hello’ before they take one look at him and their face clenches upset, breath starting to bubble with sobs.

“Oh, oh, nonono, hey,” Jon says, scooping them up into his hands. Abra is dislodged, wakes up startled and teleports a few feet away with a ‘pop’ of displaced air. “It’s… nonono, shush, it’s alright.”

Big messy tears fall out of screwed up eyes. Hitching sobs lengthen into wails. Jon looks frantically at Gardevoir as he rocks and shushes the bawling Pokemon against his chest in a way Martin was so much better at.

Martin would know what to do, what to say. How all this could work out for the best. But Martin isn’t here.

Jon’s own eyes dampen.

“Shshshsh,” he croaks thickly. “It’s – it’s going to be alright. I’ve got you.”

He uses the sleeve of his shirt to wipe away the worst of the tears. He strokes the top of Togepi’s head.

“It’s going to be alright,” Jon repeats.

Many hours later, Jon wakes up, cotton-mouthed and his back vengeful for the position he’s slept in. His legs, still crossed, have degraded to numbness that he’ll pay for as soon as he wants to stand. In his lap, he sees the matryoshka doll set up that’s occurred, Togepi exhaling with little whistling breaths into Abra’s chest, Abra’s face planted against Jon’s shirt. Skitty has emerged from his defensive fort under the cot to coil into a ball of heat, curled up in the crook of Abra’s overhanging tail. Gardevoir is half-awake in that dozing but alert way she has, and she must have turned off the light in the room because it’s dark except for the emergency glow from the fire-exit sign that casts the walls and floor in an unsettling green. Jon sees the husk of an opened Pokeball, the shadow of something small and yellow crouched on Gardevoir’s shoulder, and something inside him eases, just a little bit.

Oddish is looking up at him from the floor. Jon moves the only hand he has that’s not squashed under Abra, and when he sets it down they alight with an unsteady gait and he transfers them to the higher terrain of his knee. He rubs a careful finger along their leaves until they sit, their head nodding as they struggle to stave off sleep, although they still glance around with uncertain eyes.

The room has dropped colder. Oddish shivers along with Jon.

“I know,” Jon says. “I miss him too.”

[silver-tongued-bby]

You're Mine, Chapter 7

You’re the CEO of a groundbreaking drug company in Sweden with a work/life balance that’s more work than anything else. That is before you meet Loki, who turns your world on its head in the best of ways.

Set during the first Avengers movie. This work contains explicit content and BDSM.

Pairing: Dom!Loki x Sub!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!!, BDSM, dirty talk, oral sex (M receiving), bondage, spanking, fingering, anal play

Word Count: 4,440

Chapter Summary: You cook Loki dinner and he stops going so easy on you.

Author's Note: Chapter 7 already???? I'm thinking of closing most of the fic out next chapter but keeping it around for a few more prologues (particular kinks lol). I'm sorry I was late with this one- but I hope it was worth the wait. As always, your feedback is valued and I hope you enjoy!!

...

By the time the two of you slipped out of the bath it was well after sunset. You felt fully relaxed and refreshed. You changed into a comfortable pair of shorts and sweater while Loki conjured himself an outfit.

You led him into the kitchen, sitting him down at one of the stools at your countertop.

“Do you like Thai food?” You asked, turning to open the fridge.

“Of course,” you could hear the apprehension in his voice.

You smiled at him then brought out some chicken thighs, scallions, an egg and some Chinese broccoli, placing them on the counter. Bringing your eyes back to his you found him curiously watching you. “Is something wrong?”

He chuckled. “No- it’s just I think I can count on one hand the number of times someone’s cooked for me who wasn’t being paid in some way. Thor once tried to make stew while we were hunting Bilgesnipes but it did not end with something edible.”

“Hm- not sure what a Bilgesnipe is but I can assure you this will be edible.” You smiled at him, grabbing the wok from the cupboard.

“Do you cook?” You asked, filling a pot of water on the stove for the rice noodles.

“I’ve dabbled since coming to Midgard. I do love a good plate of breakfast meats,” he sounded thoughtful.

You laughed. “Good to hear we have at least one leg up on Asgard. Here,” you pushed a cutting board with the vegetables in front of him. “Can you chop these? And slice the scallions? Here’s a knife,” you handed him your nakiri.

He moved the knife, testing the weight and balance of it with his fingers. He nodded, then gave it a flip and went to work, finishing in seconds.

“Oh,” your mouth was open as you looked at the finely prepared vegetables then back up to him. You were starting to rethink your first and only rule.

He smiled, chuckling. “Knives are kind of my thing.”

“I see that…” you trailed off, eyeing his dextrous fingers as he held the knife, picturing him in the armour he had on last night, knife in hand… You swallowed, bringing your eyes back to his you knew by his mischievous grin that he could tell exactly what you were thinking.

“Um- sorry, right okay.” You composed yourself then brought everything over to the stove and mixed the sauce. You quickly assembled the dish, tossing the ingredients together in the wok.

You dished out two servings and brought them to the counter and settled in the stool beside him. He had topped up your wine glass already.

“Ta-da! Pad See Ew,” you motioned to his dish, grinning.

He smiled at you, picking up the chopsticks to take a bite. His eyes grew wide, “this is delicious.”

“Thank you, thank you,” you bowed slightly towards him before turning to eat the noodles in front of you. Fuck- it was delicious.

“Where did you learn to cook like this?” He asked, most of his bowl gone.

“The internet. I’m not going to lie to you- I only know three recipes. This one kept me alive in college.”

You soon fell into an easy conversation as you finished your meal.

“Well, I promise next time I’ll do the cooking,” he said, helping you clear up the dishes. “Though I did bring desert,” he said and pulled a plate full of petit fours out of thin air, placing it on the counter before you with a little wink.

“Impressive,” you mused, bringing the wine to the couch in the other room. The two of you settled side-by-side on the couch, looking out at the dark, frosty lake beyond.

“Do you miss New York?” Loki asked, stretching out on the couch, bringing his hand to lightly brush circles over your shoulder.

“Hmm, sometimes. Though Tony, my old boss, is around a lot so at times it feels like I’m still in New York working in his lab.” You decided then to let him in on the only thing you’d kept from him- your work for Stark Industries. It was only fair. If he could tell you about being an alien-god you could tell him about your postdoctoral experience.

“Are you two close?” His hand stopped its movement.

“In a working-friendship kind of way. He’s the primary shareholder of the company so he’s around often. He took me under his wing at Stark Industries.” You let the words sink in.

“You worked for Tony Stark,” he turned to you. “From what I’ve seen of the man he seems like quite the handful.” He gave you a grin.

You laughed, relieved. “Yes I’d have to agree with you there. Though he’s the one who pushed me to go to Elv. I hadn’t been out in ages.”

“I’ll have to give him my thanks,” he picked a langue de chat off the plate, popping it in his mouth.

“It would be fun to visit New York again, with you, someday,” you said gently, looking into his eyes.

“I’d love to,” he smiled at you.

“Speaking of Elv, you’ve told me what you’re not willing to try. Tell me älskling, what do you desire to explore?”

You licked your lips, growing nervous. You felt trapped by his stare, his eyes were daring you to answer. “Bondage,” you swallowed, “and discipline.”

“You want me to be harder on you, little one?” His hand moved from your shoulder to gently push your hair behind your ear.

You nodded, looking down at your hands.

He brought his hand under your chin, guiding your gaze back to his. His eyes were warm though there was a hint of mischief simmering beneath. “I can do that, my älskling. Is there anything else?”

An answer immediately came to you but you couldn’t bring yourself to say it out loud. You lightly shook your head.

“It is not wise to lie to me,” his expression darkened with his tone.

You bit your lip. “Anal,” you whispered.

He tilted his head, surveying you. “We’ll have to train you for that, little one. Have you done it before?” He gently brushed your cheek with his thumb.

You shook your head. “Never, Sir.”

“I’ll take my time with you, älskling.” He stood. “Now, let’s have you change into something lovely so we can get started.”

He led you to your bedroom and into your closet. You brought out a few options, laying them delicately on the island of the walk-in. Your heart raced as he considered each option, his gaze flickering back up to you before motioning to the white Lise Charmel set. Without another glance he strode out of your closet, leaving you alone.

You shakily pulled your sweater off, marvelling at how quickly he changed from Loki to your Sir. He demanded complete submission with the way he carried himself and spoke to you, dressing you down with just a gaze. You took a deep breath and slid off the rest of your clothes before slipping on the soft white lace.

You slid the garter up your thigh and took a look in the mirror. Fixing your hair you took one last deep breath before stepping out of the closet.

You were surprised to find the room empty. You turned around, puzzled, before you felt his firm form behind you, his warm hands firmly grasping your waist.

“Such a lovely little thing,” his breath tickled the shell of your ear and you shivered. “My lovely little thing,” he was closer now and pressed his lips against your neck, just below your ear. You breathed in a shaky breath, the feeling of his tongue against the sensitive spot making your head spin. He snaked his hands away from your waist and pulled away from you to circle you slowly, his eyes tracing your heated skin.

“What should I do with you, hm?” His tone was lush, velvety, and dripping with sin as he continued to move around you with his hands behind his back. You felt like his prey, tangled up in his very essence, entranced before he consumed you entirely.

He stopped in front of you, an eyebrow raised. “I asked you a question, älskling.” His jaw was pronounced as he reprimanded you, the look of his aristocratic face set in a scowl sent waves of heat to your core and your heartbeat hammering in your chest.

“I’m- I’m not sure, Sir. I’m sorry,” you stammered, feeling very much exposed in front of his fully clothed form.

He stepped back, his knuckle against his chin as he studied you. “On your knees. Hands behind your back.”

Your thighs clenched together before you bent down on shaky knees, resting yourself on your heels, your hands gingerly placed behind your lower back.

He circled you once more, his eyes on the floor. He stopped suddenly and moved his hand in an upward motion, materialising emerald green ropes on the ground beside you. His eyes met yours, his expression momentarily gentle as he nodded your way, as if to confirm his actions.

You gave him the tiniest of nods and his jaw set once more. He snapped his fingers and motioned with his hands, each finger curling upwards as the ropes followed suit, coiling themselves around your limbs.

You sharply inhaled as they moved around you, the soft feel of the shibari rope gentle across your sensitive skin. The ropes fastened themselves around your arms, winding several times before tightening so that your upper arms were held firmly together. They wound themselves around your chest, the green bright against the white lace of your bra, then your shoulders, fastening together at your back. Your legs were bound similarly to your arms, the rope finding its way between your thighs, though your legs were kept separate.

Once the movement stopped you looked up at Loki with wide eyes, your mouth open to accommodate you accelerated breathing. Your chest heaved under you, the ropes tightening against your skin, constricting your breathing in the slightest. The rope pressed up against the lace delivered the most delicious burn.

He continued to circle you, his eyes darkening as they traced the curvature of your skin against the cords, accented by the white of your lingerie. “I’ll ask you again. What should I do with you?”

“I don’t know, Sir.” You said, both the fabric and the ropes between your legs dampening as you trembled.

“Wrong answer, älskling.” Suddenly he gripped your arm roughly to pull you up and threw you on the bed, face down. Your legs dangled off the edge and you lost track of his position within the room, disoriented by the movement. You stayed there for a few moments, listening to the sound of your breath, straining to hear something that’d give way to his position.

After a few moments of silence you felt the glide of his fingers against your bottom, gently caressing the skin. You let out a breath, feeling your muscles relax into his open palm as he laid it against you.

Suddenly he lifted his palm and struck it against you, a sharp slap ringing out in the silence of the room. Your muscles clenched at the sensation, naturally pulling away from the strike as a whimper left your lips. His hand was in your hair, gently tugging at your roots and you felt him over you.

“Two more,” he said against your ear, forcing a shudder through you. He bit the skin of your earlobe and you cried out, your hips pushing against him.

He ran his tongue over the spot before tugging more sharply on your hair. “And don’t you fucking move.”

Your slick was hot between your thighs and your arms flexed against the soft rope as you tried to focus on your breath, willing your body to stay still.

Pulling back he ran his hand gently over the skin of your other cheek before delivering a sharp slap. Your muscles clenched ever so slightly in response, your heart falling as you realised you’d failed to obey his simple command.

He was back against you, his strong hand gripping your bound wrist. He sharply bit on the skin by your pulse and you cried out loudly, the pleasure and pain overwhelming.

“Good girls listen, don’t they?” You could feel the depth of his voice vibrating against your back as he spoke the words.

“Yes- I’m sorry, Sir.” You got out, your voice sounding small.

He bit the spot again, this time sucking against it harshly between his lips. You cried out pitifully, the ache between your legs almost painful.

“You’re still at two more,” he licked the spot. “No moving this time, älskling. Be my good girl.”

You nodded. “Yes Sir.”

He moved back off of you and quickly brought his hand down. You held your breath, willing yourself to stay still. You let out the breath slowly and felt the slick between your legs dampening more and more of the lace and rope.

“There we go. So much easier when you listen, isn’t it?” His voice was sweet in your ear, making your heart swell with pride.

“Yes Sir.”

He ran his fingers between your legs, against your wet heat. You inhaled sharply, unsure if you were allowed to move. “Poor thing,” his velvety voice was above you still.

“So wet for me. One more, älskling.” He brought his hand back over your cheek, squeezing the flesh. “Then I’ll you’ll feel so much better.”

You shivered though just your teeth knocked together, the rest of your body holding still. His hand came down to give you the hardest spank yet, the skin aching in immediate protest. You swallowed the pain but welcomed the pleasure, coming in warm waves through your core.

“Now before I turn you around,” his hand gently ran along the ties binding your arms. “Take a deep breath älskling.”

You obeyed, filling your lungs with air before gently releasing the breath. He must have dematerialised your panties since you could feel his fingers tracing the skin of your backside. His touch left you momentarily, only to come back with some sort of cool slick covering them. He moved them along your tight hole and you relaxed into his touch.

“Good girl. This may feel cold,” he replaced his fingers with a small chilly object, running it against the sensitive skin of your anus. You whimpered at the sensation, both excited and nervous at the idea of what would happen next.

As he traced the object against your backside his lips came to press kisses against your shoulder, giving you a little nip with his teeth now and then. You were drunk with lust, your breaths slow and laboured.

“Breathe out and relax,” he commanded as his warm hand came to rest on your lower back. You did as you were told, your muscles releasing with his touch. He pushed the thing within you, and it stretched your hole momentarily before your muscles took it in, the top of it stopping on the outside of your body.

“There’s my älskling.” He tapped the end of the object and you whined, the sensation shooting waves of pleasure through you. You didn’t feel uncomfortably full yet you could feel something within you, warming up as it was exposed to the heat of your body.

He kissed the shell of your ear. “So tight yet you hold that so well. My lovely girl.” He gripped your hips and helped you up before spinning you around and throwing you down on the bed, facing him as he stood at the end of the bed. He moved to climb atop of you, his body caging you in as he brought himself over you.

His eyes searched yours for a moment before he bent his head, capturing your lips with his own. He licked along your bottom lip before dipping into your mouth. You moaned as you brought your lips around his tongue. He pulled back and bit your bottom lip between his teeth, marring the flesh slightly before letting you go. He smoothed his tongue over your lip then came away to study you once more.

He slipped his hand down towards your heat, taking his time to gently brush against your skin, the rope and the lace along the way. He ran the tips of his fingers along your slit and you gasped as your muscles clenched, the thing within you moving ever so slightly.

He dipped his fingers against your folds, the wetness of your skin allowing him to easily glide his digits against you. Your back arched against him on the bed, the ropes straining against your muscles with the movement. His eyes slid down from yours, watching the swell of your breast taut against the rope.

“Does my pretty thing want to cum? Poor älskling,” he dipped to kiss you, “I can feel how much your body craves me.”

“Y-yes please Sir. Please touch me,” you panted, his teasing almost too much.

He gave you a filthy grin and dipped a finger within you, then moved to bring in another. You could feel your walls clench around him, the toy in your backside pressing ever so slightly against his knuckles when he curved them to press the spot deep within you. The sensation caused you to cry out, and you pressed your nails into your palm to hold your orgasm at bay.

“Are you going to cum, älskling?” He spoke as his hungry eyes flickered from your face to your heaving chest, the white lace covering your flesh constricting against the ropes.

“Yes Sir- I’m about to,“ you were cut off when he slipped his fingers from you. Your eyes pleaded with his as you swallowed, your arms shaking as they propped you up against the bed.

“Only good girls get to cum,” he spoke firmly. “And you have not been a good girl today.” His jaw was pronounced as he hovered over you before moving off of you, leaving you to fall back against your bound arms on the bed.

You felt like crying, or screaming, or both but settled for a deep breath to compose yourself as you stared up at the ceiling.

He chuckled. “My pretty girl, so upset.”

You smiled pitifully, biting your lip hard as you shook your head. “I’m sorry Sir.”

He grabbed you by the ropes binding your chest, pulling you up to sit on the edge of the mattress. He brought his hand to your cheek, gently brushing his thumb against your heated skin. “What am I to do with you, hm?”

You looked up at him, your eyes wide. “May I show you how sorry I am Sir?” You licked your lips while your eyes traced the outline of his erection in his dark pants.

He kept brushing your cheek as he came closer, and you gently kissed his clothed thigh, your eyes never leaving his. His eyes were warm pools of blue-green, though once you kissed directly over his clothed member his expression darkened. You proceeded to give open-mouthed kisses over his hardened length, running your tongue against the fabric.

His eyes were heavy-lidded as he watched you before he gently brought you away from his thigh, unzipping his trousers and freeing himself. You marvelled at his member, the smooth skin of it making your mouth water. You bent to press a very delicate kiss against the tip of him, the skin ever so slightly red in its current state.

You kissed him again, this time swiping your tongue across the very tip of him and he inhaled sharply. You brought your eyes back up to his then opened and took him all in, his breath hitching as you did so. His skin felt divine against your tongue, salty with the smallest hint of juniper. You kept your lips pouted as you bobbed and ran your tongue along him, moaning ever so slightly when he was farther in.

You kept your throat relaxed and took even breaths through your nose as you moved over him with your mouth. Your eyes were wide, innocent, as you observed him, willing him to grab your head and use you as he pleased. His chest was heaving while he watched you, his hand coming around to the back of your head.

You moaned and pushed back against his hand. He took the hint and brought both hands to either side of your face and began moving you over his cock. You hummed, your core dripping wet over your thighs while he took his pleasure from you.

“Do you like being used, little one?” He rasped, his pace steady. You nodded, your head moving against his movements. He clenched his jaw as he looked down at you, a thick muscle in his neck visible from your angle. “Do you like it when I fuck your mouth, älskling?”

You moaned around him in response, your eyes watering as he continued to hit a particular spot in your throat. He pulled his length from your mouth, giving you a moment to collect yourself. You quickly dipped your head and bent forward, bringing one of his testicles in your mouth and gently sucking. You wished you had a recording of the surprised, strangled groan he made in response, you were pretty sure it was the first time you’d truly caught him off guard and it had you dripping with wet. You could feel it beginning to pool around the edge of the toy still within you.

You continued to lap and suck at his testicles, chancing a look up at him you were struck with his dark, hungry gaze. His hand came to your shoulder, swiftly pushing you away from him and pulling you up before turning you around and bringing you down onto the bed so your face was against the comforter. He brought a pillow under your hips so your backside was raised off of the bed.

You felt the bed dip between your legs then the hot heat of his length against your slit as he rubbed his tip against you, gathering wetness. He tsked, “not much of a punishment when you’re this wet, is it älskling?”

You whined in response but held yourself still, praying he’d realise you were being a good girl and would let you cum this time. Your thoughts were interrupted when he slowly pressed himself within you, the toy and his length hitting similar angles and spaces within you.

He bottomed out and pulled you up against him, the new angle of his cock within you pressing up against the toy in your backside. Now it was your turn to release a strangled moan at the sensation, the feeling of it all completely overwhelming you. With one arm across your ribs, under your breasts and the other against your throat he set a steady pace as he thrust into you. His hand roughly pushed the cup of the bra down and his finger moved to your nipple. He rolled it in-between his fingers, forcing a throaty moan from your lips.

“Please Sir,” you managed to get out between thrusts, “may I cum?”

His breath was hot against your neck as he kept moving within you. “Not yet, älskling. I can feel that you’re close, your cunt is gripping me so tightly. I can feel the toy I put in you against me, within your tight little hole. Does it feel good, älskling? Do you like being filled?”

You shuddered at the sound of his velvety voice in your ear. “Yes Sir, it feels so good- I feel so… So full,” your head was spinning with the combined sensations.

“Good. Do you want to cum on this cock for your Sir, little one?” His fingers were still playing with your nipple, while the others that remained wrapped around your neck were tightening slightly.

“Yes, Sir! Please- please let me cum for you,” you begged, your fingers growing numb behind you.

“Good girl. All right my älskling, you may cum,” he pinched your nipple hard, “now.” He sucked on the spot behind your ear and you came instantly, crying out as the combined feeling of it all overpowering you. You could feel yourself moving against him as wave after wave of pleasure came, intensified when he licked and bit the same spot on your neck.

“Good girl, ride it out. There’s my good girl,” he murmured against your skin, his pace unrelenting. You came down from your high and he pulled himself from you. The ties around your arms were suddenly gone and he turned you back around, laying you on the bed so you faced him, your back propped on the same pillow as before.

He settled himself on his knees between your legs and fisted his member, his eyes taking in your form. “Touch yourself for me, älskling.” He commanded, his eyes heavy lidded as he did the same.

You licked your lips, “yes Sir,” then moved your hand down to your folds, gently playing with your clit as you watched him. You moved your hand to your uncovered nipple and rolled it between your fingers as you continued to play with yourself, the sound of your breathing filling the room.

“Do you want me to cum on your chest?” He asked, his expression sinful.

“Yes Sir, please- please cum on me. Please cover me in your cum,” you squirmed at your words, you could feel another orgasm building quickly.

“Are you going to cum again, little one? Are you going to make yourself cum with me?” He rasped, you could tell he was close and that thought excited you even more.

“Yes Sir- fuck! I’m going to cum!” You whined, your pace even with his strokes.

“Good girl. Cum now- with me,” his voice was strained as he met his finish, thick ropes of cum shooting across your chest. Upon feeling the warmth of his release against your skin, marking you, you let go, your back arching off the bed slightly as your muscles constricted.

You both panted, fully spent, slowly coming back to yourselves. You smiled at him then looked down at your chest- the green rope still tied beautifully, with thick lines of cum across the green cords, white lace, and your skin. You lay back against the pillow and brought your eyes back to his. “I think this is the prettiest I’ve ever looked.”

He nodded. “Absolutely lovely,” he gently ran his fingers along your cheekbone. His eyes fell to your chest and darkened slightly. “And all mine.”

Chapter 8 here.

End Note: Happy Loki eve!!! When you rethink on your "first and only rule" it's the no knife play from Chapter 1. Stay tuned for Chapter 8- not sure if it'll be out Saturday as I'm hoping to update Summer Wine this week too and 3 chapters is a lot for me to get through. Love you all and thank you for reading!!

Taglist (open!):

@fuck-is-going-on

@thehornytitty

[7-wonders]

The Trouble With Wanting

Summary: Though life has changed for you, for the rest of the world, everything remains the same.

Word Count: 1.3K

Author's Note: Hello yes it's the beginning of Act II of Mad Love. Buckle up. Special shoutout to @mrslangdonn for being so pumped for this and making an actual meme. Really hope I didn't let you down with this.

Mad Love Act I here!

In the grand scheme of things, life has been oddly normal lately. Since being kidnapped by witches, saved by your Antichrist husband, admitting that you actually do love said Antichrist husband, and realizing that you’re potentially the only thing that can stop the end of times, the world continued turning and the days marched on. Michael did what he normally did during the days (you don’t really know what it is he does, to be honest. Probably just talking to rich people all day), and you did too. Life continued as it had been, even though it felt like your world had been changed numerous times lately. Honestly, you had expected things to be a lot more dramatic.

But no, life was almost boring now. Mallory had gone back to New Orleans to handle being the Supreme and running her coven, so besides the texts and phone calls with her to try and figure out how to convince Michael that ending the world wasn’t the right course of action to take, the vigilante talk was almost non-existent in your day-to-day life. That was also because neither of you had any idea how to actually put this plan into action. There had been ideas, of course, but none that held any weight. That may be because the best idea either of you had had was a Powerpoint that showed all of the reasons why ending the world was a bad idea, but in your opinion that was still an idea that was on the table.

Also, you assumed that professors wouldn’t take “preoccupied by your husband’s plans for world domination” as a proper excuse for you not completing your work or showing up to class. At the very least, with how turbulent your life had been, you had expected far less homework than what you’re staring at right now.

You’re sitting in your room, doing some reading for class. Surprisingly, the reading isn’t that boring. It’s certainly not fun to do, which is probably why you hear the music right away; your attention absolutely is not all that focused tonight. It catches you entirely off-guard, considering that there’s no speakers in your room and you definitely did not have any music playing from your phone. You listen for a moment, trying to place the melody.

“Is this Frankie Valli?” you question, standing up from your bed and trying to find the source. Opening up your door to see if this is an isolated incident, you find that the music is drifting throughout the house. ‘Drifting’ is probably the wrong word, since it literally sounds like there’s speakers playing “Can’t Take My Eyes Off You” that are installed in every room and hallway.

“Hi,” you say, finally coming across Michael in the living room. He’s standing there nonchalantly, which you automatically know means that he’s involved in this.

“Hi,” Michael says right back.

“Uh, what’s with the music?”

“Well, I was on my phone earlier, and I came across an article.”

Smiling, you step towards him. “You did?”

He nods. “I did, and it was extremely informative. Did you know that married couples typically have a reception after they officially get married? Apparently, they share a first dance at the reception.”

“And you believe everything you read on the internet?”

“Sometimes, if there’s some truth to what I’m reading.” You stare at him, biting back a laugh. “We’re married.”

“We are married.”

“We didn’t have a first dance when we got married.”

“No, we did not.”

Finally, Michael sighs, tired of you playing dumb. “(Y/N), may I have this dance?”

You grab Michael’s outstretched hand, letting him pull you towards him. One hand goes onto your waist, the other intertwined with yours. He begins to lead you in a simple waltz, and you’re thankful that he knows how to dance because you sure don’t. “I didn’t know you knew this song,” you comment when you realize he’s humming.

“I enjoy the classics.”

“There’s this scene from a movie, where one of the main characters--”

“You’re talking about 10 Things I Hate About You, right?” You raise an eyebrow in questioning, and he chuckles. “Madelyn loved ‘90s rom coms, and sometimes I was bored enough that I would watch them with her.”

“I’m a little impressed.”

Michael spins you around. “You should be.”

The romanticism of the whole situation is almost overwhelming. It doesn’t matter that you’re in your living room instead of a reception hall, wearing sweatpants instead of a wedding dress. You’re here with Michael, and just that is romance enough for you. You could stand here like this, with him, forever if he asked you to do so.

“What if we had an actual wedding?” Michael asks.

“We did have an actual wedding.”

“I mean one where you actually have a say in it.”

“Well that’s sweet of you, Michael, but you still haven’t taken me on a proper date.”

“My apologies.” He dips you, kissing you before bringing you back up. “How’s Paris for a first date? Maybe Greece?”

You gasp. “Seriously?”

“Absolutely. Wherever you want, whenever you want, however you want.” He punctuates each scenario with a kiss, making your body melt into him. The song ends, the house falling into silence before the music begins to repeat. But neither of you are paying attention to that any more, not when he’s staring at you in a way that makes heat pool in the bottom of your stomach.

“Michael,” you whisper, tilting your head up to kiss him again.

He reciprocates, trailing kisses down your jaw and onto your throat as his hands move up and down your sides. All too soon, he pulls away, making you groan in disappointment. “We shouldn’t, you know…”

“I know,” you lean your head against his chest with a sigh.

Of course. The main issue that’s been prevalent on both yours and Michael’s minds for weeks now: you’re married and you love each other, but sex is...not going to happen for the time being. You both absolutely, 100% want to, but, as with most things in your life, Satan seems to be the major roadblock. You just never thought that your father-in-law (who you’ve still never met) would end up cockblocking you.

Just because Michael made sure that you wouldn’t be under Satan’s influence, that didn’t mean that he wouldn’t stop trying. If anything, he’s going to try even more now that both of you had openly defied his will. And what was the one thing that Satan wanted besides the end of the world? For Michael to have an heir. And you didn’t trust any sort of contraception when it came to the supernatural powers that you had been married into. Michael completely agreed with that, especially since he knew first-hand just how easily material things (like condoms and all of the various forms of birth control) could be manipulated. So for now, until you could figure out a way to safely get it on, sex was off the table. Unfortunately.

“I’m going to go finish my reading, then.” Slowly, because neither of you particularly want to, you disentangle yourself from him.

“And I’m going to...take a shower. A cold shower.” You laugh at him, but you’re really in the same position that he is.

“Have a good night,” you say, bounding up the stairs before you can stop yourself.

“You too.” Michael also goes up the stairs, and you shut your door before you have to say something to him again. You still keep separate bedrooms, partly because you really enjoy your space and partly because you know that, given the opportunity to be laying in a bed with Michael when you’re both horny, you would totally let him fuck you.

Sliding your back down the door, you groan as you hold your head in your hands. Saving the world from the apocalypse is definitely difficult. Having to stop yourself from having sex with your incredibly hot husband? Well, that feels impossible.

//

Tag List (starting from scratch because I need a new tag list so message me if you want to be tagged!): @michaellangdon @trelaney @xavierplympton @hecohansen31 @blakescoven @we-did-it-joe @thatonehumanbeing05 @michaellangdonstanaccount

[shihalyfie]

Hi :) If it's not too much trouble, could you please share your take on why they'd continue the Adventure brand after tri. was such a flop? (and a tangent: what does "dark history" even mean?). We got Kizuna, the reboot, and a 02 movie. Logically, it doesn't really make sense they'd keep investing in it.

This is a thorny topic, and I'd like to reiterate that although I've ended up making more posts related to this series and the discourse surrounding it recently (probably because it's even more on the mind now that another movie is on the horizon and a lot of people are apprehensive for various reasons), I do not want this blog to be making a brand out of being critical of this series. I’m writing this here and in public because I figured that there is a certain degree I need to clarify what I mean about audience reception/climate and how it might impact current or future works, and I’m admittedly also more than a little upset that I occasionally see Western fanbase criticisms of the series getting dismissed by people claiming that the only people mad about it are dramamongering or ignorant Westerners (which could not be further from the truth). However, this is mainly to address this and to answer your question, and is not intended to try and change anyone's existing opinion or impression of the series as much as it's me trying to explain (from my own personal reading of the situation) what practically went down with critical reception in real life; no more, no less.

The short summary of the matter is:

The series was a moderate financial success (albeit with some caveats; see the long version for details) and definitely outstripped a lot of prior attempts to revive the franchise;

However, the overall Japanese fanbase-side critical backlash from tri. was extremely and viciously negative to the point where even acknowledging the series too much could easily result in controversy;

Kizuna’s production and the PR surrounding it very obviously have this in mind with a lot of apparent “damage control” elements.

The long version is below.

Note that while I try to be diligent about citing my sources so people understand that I’m not just making things up wholesale, I’m deliberately refraining from linking certain things here this time, both because some of the things mentioned have some pretty crude things written there -- it’s not something I feel comfortable directing people to regardless of what language it’s in -- and because I don’t want to recklessly link things on social media and cause anyone to go after or harass the people involved. For the links that have been provided, please still be warned that some of them don’t really link to particularly pleasant things.

I am not writing the following information to suggest that anyone should agree or disagree with the sentiments being described. I know people tend to take "a lot of people like/hate this" as a signal of implication "it is correct to like/hate this" when it's not (and I especially dislike the idea of implying that Japanese fanbase opinions are the only correct ones). There's a reason I focus on "critical reception being this way" (because it influences marketing decisions and future direction) rather than how much this should impact one's personal feelings; this is coming from myself as someone who is shamelessly proud of liking many things that had bad critical reception, were financial failures, or are disliked by many. As I point out near the end, the situation also does seem to be changing for the better in more recent years as well.

Also, to be clear, I'm a single person who's observing everything best I can from my end, I have no affiliations with staff nor do I claim to, and as much as I'm capable of reading Japanese and thus reading a lot of people's impressions, I'm ultimately still another “outsider” looking in. These are my impressions from my observation of fan communal spaces, following artists and reading comments on social media and art posting websites, and results from social media searches. In the end, I know as much as anyone else about what happened, so this is just my two cents based on all of my personal observations.

A fanbase is a fanbase regardless of what part of the world you're from. There are people who love it and are shameless about saying so. There are people who have mixed feelings or at least aren't on extreme ends of the spectrum (as always, the loudest ones are always the most visible, but it's not always easy to claim they're the predominant percentage of the fanbase). That happens everywhere, and I still find that on every end I've seen. However, if I'm talking about my impressions and everything I’ve encountered, I will say that the overall Japanese reaction to tri. comes off as significantly more violently negative on average than the Western one, which is unusual because often it's the other way around. (I personally feel less so because the opinions are that fundamentally different and more so because we're honestly kind of loud and in-your-face people; otherwise, humans are mostly the same everywhere, and more often than not people feel roughly the same about everything if they’re given the same information to work with.)

This is not something I can say lightly, and thus would not say if I didn’t really get this impression, but...we're talking "casually looking up movie reviews for Kizuna have an overwhelming amount of people casually citing any acknowledgment of tri. elements as a negative element", or the fact that even communal wikis for "general" fandoms like Pixiv and Aniwota don't tend to hold back in being vicious about it (as of this writing, Pixiv's wiki refuses to consider it in the same timeline as Adventure, accusing it of being "a series that claims to be a sequel set three years after 02 but is in fact something different"). Again, there are people who openly enjoy it and actively advocate for it (and Pixiv even warns people to not lord over others about it condescendingly because of the fact that such people do exist), and this is also more of a reflection of “the hardcore fanbase on the Internet” and not necessarily the mainstream (after all, there are quite a few other Digimon works where the critical reception varies very heavily between the two). Nevertheless, the take-home is that the reputation is overall negative among the Internet fanbase to the point that this is the kind of sentiment you run into without trying all that hard.

I think, generally speaking, if we're just talking about why a lot of people resent the series, the reasons aren't that different from those on the Western side. However, that issue of "dark history" (黒歴史): there's a certain degree of demand from the more violently negative side of the fanbase that's, in a sense, asking official to treat it as a disgrace and never acknowledge it ever again, hence why Kizuna doing so much as borrowing things from it rather than rejecting it outright is still sometimes treated like it’s committing a sin. So it's somewhat close in spirit to a retcon movement, which is unusual because no other Digimon series gets this (not even 02; that was definitely a thing on the Western end, but while I'm sure there are people who hate it that much on their end too, I've never really seen it gain enough momentum for anyone to take it seriously). If anyone ever tells you that Japanese fanbases are nice to everything, either they don't know Japanese, are being willfully ignorant, or are lying to you, because there is such thing as drama in those areas, and in my experience, I've seen things get really nasty when things are sufficiently pushed over the edge, and if a fanbase wants to have drama, it will have drama. This happens to be one of those times.

(If you think this is extreme, please know that I also think so too, so I hope you really understand that me describing this sentiment does not mean I am personally endorsing it. Also, let me reiterate that the loudest section of the fanbase is not necessarily the predominant one; after all, as someone who’s been watching reactions to 02 over the years, I myself can attest that its hatedom has historically made it sound more despised than it actually is in practice.)

My impression is that the primary core sentiment behind why the series so much as existing and being validated is considered such an offense (rather than, say, just saying "wow, that writing was bad" and moving on) is heavily tied to the release circumstances the series came out in during 2015-2018, and the idea that "this series disrespected Adventure, and also disrespected the fanbase.” (I mean, really, regardless of what part of the world you’re from, sequels and adaptations tend to be held to a higher bar of expectation than standalone works, because they’re expected to do them justice.) A list of complaints I’ve come across a lot while reading through the above:

The Japanese fanbase is pretty good at recordkeeping when it comes to Adventure universe lore, partially because they got a lot of extra materials that weren’t localized, but also partially because adherence to it seems to generally be more Serious Business to them than it is elsewhere. For instance, “according to Adventure episode 45, ‘the one who wishes for stability’ (Homeostasis) only started choosing children in 1995, and therefore there can be no Chosen Children before 1995” is taken with such gravity that this, not anything to do with evolutions or timeline issues, is the main reason Hurricane Touchdown’s canonicity was disputed in that arena (because Wallace implies that he met his partners before 1995). It’s a huge reason the question of Kizuna also potentially not complying to lore came to the forefront, because tri. so flagrantly contradicts it so much that this issue became very high on the evaluation checklist. In practice, Kizuna actually goes against Adventure/02 very little, so the reason tri. in particular comes under fire for this is that it does it so blatantly there were theories as early as Part 1 that this series must take place in a parallel universe or something, and as soon as it became clear it didn’t, the resulting sentiment was “wow, you seriously thought nobody would notice?” (thus “disrespecting the audience”).

A lot of the characterization incongruity is extremely obvious when you’re following only the Japanese version, partially because it didn’t have certain localization-induced characterization changes (you are significantly less likely to notice a disparity with Mimi if you’re working off the American English dub where they actually did make her likely to step on others’ toes and be condescending, whereas in Japanese the disparity is jarring and hard to miss) and partially due to some things lost in translation (Mimi improperly using rough language on elders is much easier to spot as incongruity if you’re familiar with the language). Because it’s so difficult to miss, and honestly feels like a lot of strange writing decisions you’d make only if you really had no concept of what on earth happened in the original series, it only contributes to the idea that they were handling Adventure carelessly and disrespectfully without paying attention to what the series was even about (that, or worse, they didn’t care).

02 is generally well-liked there! It’s controversial no matter where you go, but as I said earlier, there was no way a retcon movement would have ever been taken seriously, and the predominant sentiment is that, even if you’re not a huge fan of it, its place in canon (even the epilogue) should be respected. So not only flagrantly going against 02-introduced lore but also doing that to a certain quartet is seen as malicious, and you don’t have as much of the converse discourse celebrating murdering the 02 quartet (yeah, that’s a thing that happened here) or accusing people with complaints of “just being salty because they like 02″ as nearly as much of a factor; I did see it happen, or at least dismissals akin to “well it’s Adventure targeted anyway,” but they were much less frequent. The issue with the 02 quartet is usually the first major one brought up, and there’s a lot of complaints even among those who don’t care for 02 as much that the way they went about it was inhumane and hypocritical, especially when killing Imperialdramon is fine but killing Meicoomon is a sin. Also, again, “you seriously think nobody will see a problem with how this doesn’t make sense?”

I think even those who are fans of the series generally agree with this, but part of the reason the actual real-life time this series went on is an important factor is that the PR campaign for this series was godawful. Nine months of clicking on an egg on a website pretending like audience participation meant something when in actuality it was blatantly obvious it was just a smokescreen to reveal info whenever they were ready? This resulted in a chain effect where even more innocuous/defensible things were viewed in a suspicious or negative light (for instance, "the scam of selling the fake Kaiser's goggles knowing Ken fans would buy it only to reveal that it's not him anyway"), and a bunch of progressively out-of-touch-with-the-fanbase statements and poor choices led to more sentiment “yeah, you’re just insulting the fanbase at this point,” and a general erosion of trust in official overall.

On top of that, the choice of release format to have it spread out as six movies over three years seems to have exacerbated the backlash to get much worse than it would have been otherwise, especially since one of the major grievances with the series is that how it basically strung people along, building up more and more unanswered questions before it became apparent it was never going to answer them anyway. So when you’re getting that frustrated feeling over three whole years, it feels like three years of prolonged torture, and it becomes much harder to forgive for the fallout than if you’d just marathoned the entire thing at once.

For those who are really into the Digimon (i.e. species) lore and null canon, while I’m not particularly well-versed in that side of the fanbase, it seems tri. fell afoul of them too for having inaccurately portrayed (at one point, mislabeled) special attacks and poorly done battle choreography, along with the treatment of Digimon in general (infantilized Digimon characterization, general lack of Digimon characters in general, very flippant treatment of the Digital World in Parts 3-5). If you say you’re going to “reboot” the Digital World and not address the entire can of worms that comes with basically damaging an entire civilization of Digimon, as you can imagine, a lot of people who actually really care about that are going to be pissed, and the emerging sentiment is “you’re billing this as a Digimon work, but you don’t even care about the monsters that make up this franchise.”

The director does not have a very positive reputation among those who know his work (beyond just Digimon), and in general there was a lot of suspicion around the fact they decided to get a guy whose career has primarily been built on harem and fanservice anime to direct a sequel to a children’s series. Add to that a ton of increasingly unnerving statements about how he intended to make the series “mature” in comparison to its predecessor (basically, an implication that Adventure and 02 were happy happy joy series where nothing bad ever happened) and descriptions of Adventure that implied a very, very poor grasp of anything that happened in it: inaccurate descriptions of their characters, poor awareness of 02′s place in the narrative, outright saying in Febri that he saw the Digimon as like perpetual kindergartners even after evolving, and generally such a flippant attitude that it drove home the idea that the director of an Adventure sequel had no respect for Adventure, made this series just to maliciously dunk on it for supposedly being immature, and has such a poor grasp of what it even was that it’s possible he may not have seen it in the first place (or if he did, clearly skimmed it to the extent he understood it poorly to pretty disturbing levels). As of this writing, Aniwota Wiki directly cites him as a major reason for the backlash.

In general, consensus seems to be that the most positively received aspect of the series (story-wise) was Part 3 (mostly its ending, but some are more amenable to the Takeru and Patamon drama), and the worst vitriol goes towards Parts 2 (for the blatantly contradictory portrayal of Mimi and Jou and the hypocritical killing of Imperialdramon) and 4 (basically the “point of no return” where even more optimistic people started getting really turned off). This is also what I suspect is behind the numbers on the infamous DigiPoll (although the percentage difference is admittedly low enough to fall within margin of error). However, there was suspicion about the series even from Part 1, with one prominent fanartist openly stating that it felt more like meeting a ton of new people than it did reuniting with anyone they knew.

So with all of that on the table: how did this affect official? The thing is that when I say “violently negative”, I mean that also entailed spamming official with said violently negative social media comments. While this is speculation, I am fairly certain that official must have realized how bad this was getting as early as between Parts 4 and 5, because that’s where a lot of really suspicious things started happening behind the scenes; while I imagine the anime series itself was now too far in to really do anything about it, one of the most visible producers suddenly vanished from the producer lineup and was replaced by Kinoshita Yousuke, who ended up being the only member of tri. staff shared with Kizuna (and, in general, the fact that not a single member of staff otherwise was retained kind of says a lot). Once the series ended in 2018 and the franchise slowly moved into Kizuna-related things, you might notice that tri.-branded merch production almost entirely screeched to a halt and official has been very touchy about acknowledging it too deeply; it’s not that they don’t, but it’s kind of an awfully low amount for what you’d think would be warranted for a series that’s supposed to be a full entry in the big-name Adventure brand.

The reason is, simply, that if they do acknowledge it too much, people will get pissed at them. That’s presumably why the tri. stage play (made during that interim period between Parts 4 and 5 and even branded with the title itself) and Kizuna are really hesitant to be too aggressive about tri. references; it’s not necessarily that official wants to blot it out of history like the most extreme opinions would like them to, but even being too enthusiastic about affirming it will also get them backlash, especially if the things they affirm are contradictory to Adventure or 02. And considering even the small references they did put in still got them criticism for “affirming” tri. too much, you can easily see that the backlash would have been much harder if they’d attempted more than that; staying as close as possible to Adventure and 02 and trying to deal with tri. elements only when they’re comparatively inoffensive was pretty much the “safe” thing to do in this scenario (especially since fully denying tri. would most certainly upset the people who did like the series, and if you have to ask me, I personally think this would have been a pretty crude thing to have done right after the series had just finished). Even interviews taken after the fact often involve quickly disclaiming involvement with the series, or, if they have to bring up something about it, discussing the less controversial aspects like the art (while the character designs were still controversial, it’s at least at the point where some fanartists will still be willing to make use of them even if they dislike the series, albeit often with prominent disclaimers) or the more well-received parts of Part 3; Kizuna was very conspicuously marketed as a standalone movie, even if it shared the point of “the Adventure kids, but older” that tri. had.

(Incidentally, the tri. stage play has generally been met with a good reputation and was received well even among people who were upset with the anime, so it was well-understood that they had no relation. In fact, said stage play is probably even better received than Kizuna, although that’s not too surprising given the controversial territory Kizuna goes into, making the stage play feel very play-it-safe in comparison.)

So, if we’re going to talk about Kizuna in particular: tri. was, to some degree, a moderate financial success, in the sense that it made quite a bit of money and did a lot to raise awareness of the Digimon brand still continuing...however, if you actually look at the sales figures for tri., they go down every movie; part of it was probably because of the progressively higher “hurdle” to get into a series midway, but consider that Gundam Unicorn (a movie series which tri.’s format was often compared to) had its sales go up per movie thanks to word of mouth and hype. So while tri. does seem to have gotten enough money to help sustain the franchise at first, the trade-off was an extremely livid fanbase that had shattered faith in the brand and in official, and so while continuing the Adventure brand might still be profitable, there was no way they were going to get away with continuing to do this lest everything eventually crash and burn.

Hence, if you look at the way Kizuna was produced and advertised, you can see a lot of it is blatantly geared at addressing a lot of the woes aimed at tri.: instead of the staff that had virtually no affiliation with Toei, the main members of staff announced were either from the original series (Seki and Yamatoya) or openly childhood fans, the 02 quartet was made into a huge advertising point as a dramatic DigiFes reveal (and character profies that tie into the 02 epilogue careers prominently part of the advertising from day one), and they even seemed to acknowledge the burnout on the original Adventure group by advertising it so heavily as “the last adventure of Taichi and his friends”, so you can see that there’s a huge sentiment of “damage control” with it. How successful that was...is debatable, since opinions have been all over the board; quite a few people were naturally so livid at what happened with tri. that Kizuna was just opening more of the wound, but there were also people who liked it much better and were willing to acknowledge it (with varying levels of enthusiasm, some simply saying “it was thankfully okay,” and some outright loving it), and there was a general sentiment even among those who disliked both that they at least understood what Kizuna was going for and that it didn’t feel as inherently disrespectful. (Of course, there are people who loved tri. and hated Kizuna, and there are people who loved both, too.)

Moreover, Kizuna actually has a slightly different target audience from tri.; there’s a pretty big difference between an OVA and a theatrical movie, and, quite simply, Kizuna was made under the assumption that a lot of people watching it may not have even seen tri. in the first place. An average of 11% of the country watched Adventure and 02, but the number of people who watched tri. is much smaller, in part due to the fact that its “theater” screenings were only very limited screenings compared to Kizuna being shown in theaters in Japan and worldwide, and in part due to the fact that watching six parts over three years is a pretty huge commitment for someone who may barely remember Digimon as anything beyond a show they watched as a kid, and may be liable to just fall off partway through because they simply just forgot. (Which also probably wasn’t helped by the infamously negative reputation, something that definitely wouldn’t encourage someone already on the fence.) And that’s yet another reason Kizuna couldn’t make too many concrete tri. references; being a theatrical movie, it needs to have as wide appeal as possible, and couldn’t risk locking out an audience that had a very high likelihood of not having seen it, much less to the end -- it may have somewhat been informed by tri.’s moderate financial success and precedent, but it ultimately was made for the original Adventure and 02 audience more than anything else.

I would say that, generally, while Kizuna is “controversial” for sure, reception towards the movie seems to be more positive than negative, it won over a large chunk of people who were burned out by tri., and it clearly seems to have been received well enough that it’s still being cashed in on a year after its release. The sheer existence of the upcoming 02-based movie is also probably a sign of Kizuna’s financial and critical success; Kinoshita confirmed at DigiFes 2020 that nothing was in production at the time, and stated shortly after the movie’s announcement that work on it had just started. So the decision to make it seems to have been made after eyeing Kizuna’s reception, and, moreover, the movie was initially advertised from the get-go with Kizuna’s director and writer (Taguchi and Yamatoya), meaning those two have curried enough goodwill from the fanbase that this can be used to promote the movie. (If not, you would think that having and advertising Seki would be the bigger priority.) While this is my own sentiment, I am personally doubtful official would have even considered 02 something remotely profitable enough on its own to cash in on if it weren’t for this entire sequence of events of 02′s snubbing in tri. revealing how much of a fanbase it had (especially with the sheer degree of “suspicious overcompensation” Kizuna had with its copious use of the 02 quartet and it tagging a remix of the first 02 ED on the Hanareteitemo single, followed by the drama CD and character songs), followed by Kizuna having success in advertising with them so heavily. Given all of the events between 2015 and now, it’s a bit ironic to see that 02 has now become basically the last resort to be able to continue anything in the original Adventure universe without getting too many people upset at them about it.

The bright side coming out of all of this is that, while it’s still a bit early to tell, now that we’re three years out from tri. finishing up and with Kizuna in the game, it seems there’s a possibility for things improving around tri.’s reception as well. Since a lot of the worst heated points of backlash against it have a very “you had to have been there” element (related to the PR, release schedule, and staff comments), those coming in “late” don’t have as much reason to be as pissed at it; I’ve seen at least one case of a fanartist getting back into the franchise because of Kizuna hype, watching tri. to catch up, casually criticizing it on Twitter, and moving on with their life, presumably because marathoning the whole thing being generally aware of what’ll happen in it and knowing Kizuna is coming after anyway gives you a lot less reason to be angry to the point of holding an outright grudge. Basically, even if you don’t like it, it’s much easier to actually go “yeah, didn’t like that,” not worry too much about it, and move on. Likewise, I personally get the impression that official has been starting to get a little more confident about digging up elements related to it. Unfortunately, a fairly recent tweet promoting the series getting put on streaming services still got quite a few angry comments implying that they should be deleting the scourge from the Internet instead, so there’s still a long way to go, but hopefully the following years will see things improve further...

In regards to the reboot, I -- and I think a lot of people will agree with me -- have a bit of a hard time reading what exact audience it’s trying to appeal to; we have a few hints from official that they want parents to watch it with their children, and that it may have been a necessary ploy in order to secure their original timeslot. So basically, the Adventure branding gets parents who grew up with the original series to be interested in it and to show it to their kids, and convinces Fuji TV that it might be profitable. But as most people have figured by now, the series has a completely different philosophy and writing style -- I mean, the interview itself functionally admits it’s here to be more action-oriented and to have its own identity -- and the target audience is more the kids than anything else. As for the Internet fanbase of veterans, most people have been critical of its character writing and pacing, but other than a few stragglers who are still really pissed, it hasn’t attracted all that much vitriol, probably because in the end it’s an alternate universe, it doesn’t have any obligation to adhere to anything from the original even if it uses the branding, and it’s clearly still doing its job of being a kids’ show for kids who never saw the original series nor 02, so an attempt to call it “disrespectful” to the original doesn’t have much to stand on. A good number of people who are bored of it decided it wasn’t interesting to them and dropped it without incident, while other people are generally just enjoying it for being fun, and the huge amount of Digimon franchise fanservice with underrepresented Digimon and high fidelity to null canon lore is really pleasing the side of the fanbase that’s into that (I mean, Digimon World Golemon is really deep in), so at the very least, there’s not a lot to be super-upset about.