#i don't go here but you know that doesn't mean anything

[rexhya]

Your anul writings are sooo good like i got hooked

Like imagine anuls dad saying he found a wife for him and reader starts distancing herself because the potential wife heard about how obsessed he was with reader and threatened reader that if she listened or obeyed him she would have her father kill them

yandere!prince who is livid at his father, who wants to kill the woman who's supposedly going to be his wife. ( as if )

Anul doesn't even bother trying to pretend to like her, he continues as usual. What he doesn't know is how this wretched woman has been treating you.

You're sewing together fabrics of Anuls clothing, ever since he'd learned you know how to tailor clothes he's been insistent that no one else but you touch them, a button on one of his shirts had broken.

You of course noticed the woman approaching you, her luxurious gown could be seen swaying from miles away.

"You, maid girl." the woman sneered.

You turned upwards to where she was standing, her chest puffed out proudly. "Yes?" you gulped, she was obviously a noble, though one you didn't recognize.

"Stay away from The Prince , and I mean it. I know you think he loves you, but's he just using you. He'll understand you're nothing but a bug on the wall once he meets me." she flipped her hair waiting for answer.

"Okay." you mumbled looking down, this wasn't worth your trouble.

But the woman wasn't done, "Dont get cocky, do you know who my father is?"

You pricked your fingers while sewing, "I'm not—"

"That's right, you're not anything, stay away from him or i'll tell my father what you've done, and trust me you won't like that." she didnt wait for an andwer as she stalked away, leaving you and your bloody pointer alone.

It wasnt long after this interaction that you began avoiding Anul, excuse after excuse eventually led hardly any interaction at all, and it wasn't like you didn't enjoy seeing the prince from time to time, its was simply for your own safety.

The woman had been watching you like a hawk, ready to catch you near him so she could punish you, or even worse, kill you. You didnt take any chances and went to great efforts to stay away from him, seeing as he was constantly looking for you on a daily basis this turned out to be quite dificult however you'd made things work.

Untill they weren't of course.

Anul was deeply upset, you were so slippery these days, everytime he wanted to see you there seemed to be something of great importance interupting his much needed quality time. You hadn't slept in his chambers in over a week! This needed to stop, and it needed to stop now.

A week and 3 days, and 4 hours since you'd been avoiding him Anul decides he's had enough. He knows everything about your routine, he decides to set a trap. A maid girl leaves a letter in your locker to head up to the head of the maids office, your terrible nervous of course, because of Anul you hadnt been exactly the most present untill this past week, you hoped you wernet being fired.

That wasn't the case at all, "[Name], so you really are alive!" you don't have time to answer before Anul swoops you off your feet and into the air, twirling you around in a way that delightfully makes you squeeze onto him.

He sets you down gracefully and you peer up at him, " My prince, what are you doing here?" you try to pull away but he has his arms locked on your waist an deliriously lovesick expression on his face.

"I missed you my love," he sighs burrying his nose into your neck, breathing in your scent.

You warm, it was weird feeling the sheer power of Anuls body after being away for so long.

"But what are you doing here! I thought i was in trouble, Ms. Jalei, she—"

Anul suddenly pulled away, a cold and angry look on his face, "We'll that's because you are, you''ve been avoiding and ignoring me [Name], you should tell me why." despite the coldness in his voice he sounded awfully hurt. Had being away from you really hurt that bad?

"I havent been—" you tried.

"Dont, I'm not in the mood." he stared, and you began to crumble, his gaze felt like starting into a void of pitch black smoke.

"I–" you voice clogged, when you thought about the woman. "Well, it's just that there was this noble. I don't know her name—"

"She threatened you?" he narrowed his eyes.

You nodded, it was an obvious conclusion to come to. Anul knew of his admirers, he simply didn't care for them. Then Anul did something unexpected, he sighed in relief. "Oh thank god, I thought you didn't like me anymore. You would never abandon me, how silly of me."

You didn't say anything to this, letting Anul rub his nose into your neck, he hadnt said it aloud but he'd been misreable without you, running on 4 hours of sleep because he couldn't fall asleep right away, accidentally cutting of this knight boy he'd sparred with, and not to mention the drinking, god, it got so bad his father almost gave in and demanded you back to him. His moaning and wailing kept the entire palace up.

"Well, that solves everything then," he smile was as wide as you'd ever seen if before. "Don't ever do something like that again, okay? Tonight you sleep with me."

You nodded again, you should've expected this, Anul wasn't one to give up to easily. He finally pulled back and away to peer at your face, a hand coming up to stroke your cheek. "You're so quiet, she didn't already touch you did she?"

You shook your head no again. Anul frowned. "Use your words."

"No"

He grins, "Good girl. My precious darling, It's been so long since we've last seen each other, I feel obligated to a kiss."

You blink rapidly, struggling to keep eye contact with the violet haired man, he loved it when you were flustered like this, "Well?" he whispered and softly your your lips open with a thumb, open-mouthed sucking on your tounge, you shivered, trying to ignore the prodding feeling between Anul's legs. He was just as flustered as you when he was done, crimson red coating his face.

"God, I can't believe I went a week without that, you're to never be away from me again you hear me? And don't worry about that woman, she'll be disposed of if it's the last thing I do."

[slaybinnie]

ALLEYWAY BOY

╰┈➤ sieun x fem!reader

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃 warnings: explicit sexual content (18+ MDNI), violence, explicit language, no sexual protection.

about: while at your new school, one student catches your attention. when you help him during a fight you’re welcomed into his friend group. now in university, sieun begins to open up more, emotionally and physically.

⤷ WORD COUNT: 5k

The classroom was loud with chatter as everyone waited for the teacher to arrive for the first class of the day. You had transferred to Eunjang High School just a week ago and were still trying to find your place among the complex social hierarchy. 

No one really stood out except one person. You noticed him immediately. A boy sitting alone by the window, his face expressionless as he stared outside. Something about him drew you to him. While everyone else moved in groups, laughing and talking loudly, he existed in his own bubble. You had occasionally seen him hang out with three other boys but most days he was to himself. 

Oh. You’re looking at Sieun?” Whispered the girl sitting next to you, catching you staring. “He doesn't talk much. He transferred a little before you. Apparently he killed someone at his old school.”

You nodded, trying to look disinterested even as your eyes kept drifting back to him.

Your chance to actually meet him came a few days later. You had stayed late at school to complete a makeup test and were walking home alone when you heard yelling in the ally way. You should’ve taken that as a sign to turn around and take a different way home but curiosity got the better of you. 

You looked around the corner and saw four guys surrounding someone. When they moved around, you caught a glimpse of Sieun, standing there with the same frown on his face.

“You think just because you took down Seongje means we’re scared of you?,” one of them was said.

Sieun's voice was quiet but firm. “No.”

What happened next was so fast you barely registered it. One moment one of the guys was lunging toward Sieun and the next moment he was on the ground clutching his stomach. The others rushed in but Sieun moved with a quickness, fighting back. 

In less than a minute, all of them were on the ground. The first guy Sieun took down pulled out a small knife, and that's when you gasped involuntarily. Everyone froze. Sieun's eyes snapped to where you stood, and in that moment of distraction the knife-wielder lunged. Without thinking, you shouted, “Behind you!” 

Sieun dodged it just in time, the blade missing his face by inches. He grabbed the guys wrist and twisted until the knife fell to the ground.

All four boys fled and Sieun turned to you. You expected him to show anger for you interfering but his face didn’t show anything actually. 

“You should go home,” he said finally. “It's not safe here.”

“You're bleeding,” you pointed out, noticing a cut on his cheek.

He touched it softly. “It's nothing.”

Instead of leaving, you dug into your bag and pulled out a packet of tissues and a small first-aid kit your mother had insisted you carry. “Let me help.”

For a long moment, he just stared at you. Then, to your surprise, he gave a single nod and leaned against the wall, allowing you to dab at the cut with a wipe.

“Why did you warn me?” he asked suddenly. “You don't even know me.”

You focused on cleaning the cut, avoiding his intense gaze. “Should I have let him stab you instead?”

He exhaled a breath. “Most people would have run away.”

“Well I didn’t want to see a fellow Eunjang student hurt,” you replied with a smile on your face.

“Yo, Sieun!” a voice called. Three boys approached, the one with a basketball jersey frowning when he saw the signs of a fight. “What happened?”

“Nothing important,” Sieun replied, straightening up.

The basketball jersey boy's eyes shifted to you, suspicious. “Who's this?”

“A classmate,” Sieun said before you could answer. “She helped.”

The introduction was short and sweet. You learned that Baku was the one with the jersey on. Junate and Gotak were the other two boys. These were the boys you had seen Sieun hang out with every now and then. 

From this moment you were cautiously accepted into their friend circle. Sieun rarely spoke to you directly at first but sometimes you would catch him watching you when he thought you weren't looking.

It took months to break his walls down with you. You had slowly earned his trust and got to learn about the story behind his fighting skills and the way he kept everyone at a distance. You learned about his troubled past, his friend in the hospital, and got to know his personality more. 

By the start of your senior year everything was starting to look up. Suho, Sieuns hospital friend, had woken up, Eungjang high was no longer bothered by the union and your friendship with Sieun developed into something more.

One year later and you’re all now in University. The campus coffee shop was loud with voices and machines as students rushed to grab their caffeine before afternoon classes. You sat at a corner table, textbooks spread across the surface as you tried to make sense of your class assignment.

University life had been treating you well, balancing classes with part-time work and a social life was challenging, but manageable. 

Sieun hadn't changed much since high school. His face still carried that same deadpan expression, sharp eyes that softened only for you, and a quietness that intimidated most people. What did change was your goals for him and you. 

Since starting university, you'd made it your mission to get more reactions out of him. It had become something of a game between you and him trying to maintain his composure while you tried your best to break it.

Sieun walked in the coffee shop, his dark hair slightly messy from the breeze outside. He looked so good. Despite being your boyfriend for almost six months now, the sight of him still made your heart skip a beat.

“Hey,” he said, sliding into the seat across from you. “Sorry I'm late. The professor wanted to discuss my project”

You smiled, pushing your untouched ice tea toward him. “No problem. How did it go?”

“Better than expected.” He reached for the drink, his fingers brushing against yours. Even after months of dating, these small touches still sent electricity through your body. “He thinks I might be able to submit it to receive a full ride scholarship.”

“That's amazing” Your genuine excitement made him bow his head slightly, still unused to praise despite his talents.

Sieun took a sip from your drink, using the same straw you had been using. When he realized what he'd done, a faint blush crept across his cheeks. He quickly set the drink down.

“Sorry,” he muttered, looking anywhere but at your face.

You couldn't help but laugh. For someone who had faced the craziest situations in high school, it was interesting how flustered he could get over such small intimacies. 

“Sieun…” you started, taking another sip from the same straw, “ you know sharing drinks is what couples do.”

His blush deepened. “I know that.”

“Do you?” You leaned forward, resting your chin on your palm. “Because sometimes I wonder if you remember we're dating.”

Sieun's eyes met yours, embarrassment written all over his face.  “Of course I remember we’re dating.”

“Then why do you still get so flustered when I do this?” You reached across the table and gently brushed a strand of hair from his forehead. As expected, he stiffened slightly before relaxing into your touch.

“I'm not flustered,” he insisted, though the color in his cheeks said otherwise.

You laughed softly. “Sure baby.” 

Honestly, you found his shy reactions adorable. Sieun had always been reserved, even after you'd started dating. Breaking through his walls had been a slow process but every small victory felt significant. You loved to see him gradually allow himself to be vulnerable with you.

“How's your assignment going?” he asked, clearly trying to change the subject.

“It’s going horribly,” you admitted dramatically. “This subject makes no sense to me.”

Sieun scooted his chair around to sit beside you, his shoulder pressing against yours as he looked at your textbook. “Let me see.”

As he began explaining concepts  you found yourself watching the movement of his lips more than listening to his words. When he paused to see if you were following, you impulsively leaned in and kissed his cheek.

He froze mid-sentence, eyes widening. “What was that for?” he asked, voice slightly cracking.

"I just wanted to kiss you,” you replied with a shrug. “Is that okay?”

Sieun swallowed hard. “Yeah... it's okay.”

You smiled and turned back to the textbook, acting as if nothing had happened, though you could feel the tension radiating from him. You had to have a nice balance with Sieun, pushing just enough to help him become comfortable with affection without overwhelming him.

For the next hour, you studied together, gradually shifting closer until your thighs touched under the table. Every so often, you would find excuses to touch him. You’d reach across to point at something in the book and let your arm rest against his. Each touch left him momentarily flustered before he composed himself again. 

“We should get going,” he said, closing his textbooks and glancing at his watch. “We're supposed to meet the others for lunch in twenty minutes.”

You groaned, remembering the lunch plan. “Do we have to? I was hoping to have you to myself today.”

A small smile played on his lips. “They'll never let us hear the end of it if we bail.”

“Fine,” you sighed dramatically, gathering your books. “But you owe me.”

“Owe you what?” he asked, helping you pack up.

You leaned in close, your lips nearly brushing his ear. “Time. Just us. No interruptions.”

The blush returned full force, spreading from his neck to his ears, and you couldn't help but laugh softly. There was something addictive about making Sieun flustered.

As you walked across campus to meet your friends, your hands occasionally brushed until Sieun finally took the initiative and laced his fingers with yours. It was a small gesture, but knowing how much he disliked public displays of affection, it meant everything to you.

The campus restaurant was crowded when you arrived, but you spotted your friends immediately. Baku was gesturing wildly, telling some story that had Juntae rolling his eyes. Suho noticed you first, waving you guys over. 

“Finally!” Baku exclaimed as you sat down. “We thought you two might have gotten distracted.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. 

“We were studying,” Sieun said simply. “Unlike some people.”

Gotak laughed. “He's got you there, Baku. When's the last time you stepped foot in the library?”

“Libraries are for people who have to read to learn,” Baku said with a big grin, tapping his forehead. “Me? I just stand near smart stuff and it jumps into my brain!”

“Is that why you're failing statistics?” Juntae asked dryly making the whole table laugh,

As your friends fell into their usual banter you noticed how clam Sieun was. This friend group was good for him. Everything felt right. 

“How's the new apartment?” Suho asked Sieun between bites of his lunch.

“It's alright,” Sieun replied with his typical shortness.

You rolled your eyes. “What he means is that it's great but he's still living out of boxes because he refuses to properly unpack.”

“I have a system,” Sieun defended himself.

Sieun had moved into his own place just a month ago, leaving the dormitories for a small studio apartment off-campus. You had helped him move, shocked by how few items he actually owned.

“You should see it,” you told the others. “The only decoration he has is a plant I bought him, which is somehow still alive.”

“It's just a place to sleep,” Sieun shrugged. “I don't need much.”

Baku leaned forward. “So, Y/n, how often do you stay over at this minimalist paradise?”

You kicked him under the table while Sieun suddenly became very interested in his food.

“None of your business, Humin,” you replied sassy.

The truth was, while you had been to Sieun's apartment many times, your relationship had progressed slowly in physical terms. Sieun wasn't one to rush, and you respected his pace. You were fine as long as he was by your side. 

As everyone prepared to leave for afternoon classes, Suho pulled you aside briefly.

“He seems good,” he said quietly, nodding toward Sieun who was arguing with Baku about something. “More settled.”

You smiled, watching your boyfriend's rare animated expressions. “I think he is. You being here is definitely a big reason why”

“It’s not just me. It's because of you too,” Suho continued. “He was always so... contained back then. Even with me. You've given him something the rest of us couldn't.”

“What's that?”

“Permission to be a normal guy,” Suho said simply. “To care about something besides survival.”

Before you could respond, the others joined you, and the moment passed. But Suho's words stayed with you as you and Sieun split from the group to head to your next classes.

“I have to finish a lab report tonight,” Sieun said as you guys reached his next class. “But maybe after…”

“After?” 

He met your eyes, something determined in his gaze. “Maybe you could come over. We could watch that movie you've been talking about.”

You smiled, knowing the invitation was not just to watch a movie, but to spend time together in his personal bubble. “I'd like that.”

For a moment, he stood there, seeming to debate something. He looked around quickly to ensure no one was watching and leaned in to kiss you briefly. Before you could react, he had already pulled away, a flush spreading across his cheekbones.

“I'll text you when I'm done,” he said rushed, then turned and walked into the building, leaving you standing there with a surprised smile.

It was 8:30 when you got the text from Sieun, "Lab done. Come over if you still want to.”

 Pf, of course you still want to. You quickly washed up and headed over to his apartment, giving his door a soft knock. The door opened almost immediately, revealing Sieun in a simple black t-shirt and gray sweatpants. His hair was damp from a recent shower. He looked so handsome. 

“Hi,” you said, suddenly feeling a little nervous without knowing why.

“Come in,” he replied, stepping aside to let you enter.

The apartment was indeed minimalist, just as you'd described to your friends. A bed in one corner, a small seating area with a couch and coffee table, a tv stand with a tv, a cute small kitchen, and a desk with a laptop, the plant you gave him, and neatly arranged textbooks on it. 

But something was a little different. You noticed immediately that he had finally unpacked some of the boxes. A bookshelf now held his small collection of books and a few framed photos, including you in them. One of the two photos with you in them was from the end-of-year festival in high school.

“You unpacked,” you said, unable to keep the surprise from your voice.

Sieun shrugged, but you could tell he was pleased that you'd noticed. “Had some time after finishing the lab report.”

You moved to examine the photos more closely. “I can't believe you kept this,” you said, picking up the festival photo.

“It was a good day,” he said simply, coming to stand beside you.

You remembered it well. A day full of fun. The day had ended with him awkwardly asking if you wanted to “maybe go out sometime,” his confidence completely absent as he stumbled over the words.

Setting the photo down, you turned to face him. “I can put on the movie,” you said picking up his remote and turning on  the TV, “but I'm also fine with just talking if you're tired.”

“I’m good with the movie,” he replied, “I made food. Nothing fancy, just ramen.”

“Fancy ramen or instant?” you asked with a smile.

“Somewhere in between.” He gestured to two bowls on the coffee table, steam still rising from them. You noticed he'd added eggs, green onions, and a few other ingredients to elevate the simple dish.

After putting the movie on you settled onto the small couch suddenly aware of how intimate the space felt. You had been here before, but something about tonight felt different. Sieun joined you on the couch, sitting close enough that your shoulders touched. 

For the first twenty minutes, you both ate and watched in comfortable silence but as the main characters in the film shared their first kiss, you became hyperaware of Sieun sitting beside you.

Setting your empty bowl aside, you casually leaned into him. After a brief moment of tension, he lifted his arm and placed it around your shoulders, allowing you to rest against his chest. You could hear his heartbeat, slightly faster than normal.

“Is this okay?” you asked softly, tilting your head to look up at him.

Instead of answering, he surprised you by leaning down and pressing his lips to yours. The kiss was gentle but lingered longer than his usual hesitant kisses. When he pulled back, his eyes were dark with an emotion you rarely saw him display.

“More than okay,” he finally answered, voice slightly rough.

You reached up to touch his face, tracing the line of his jaw with your fingertips. He remained perfectly still under your touch, watching you with an intensity that made your heart race.

“I've been thinking,” you said softly, “about us.”

“What about us?” His voice was quiet.

“About how far we've come. From that day in the alley to here.” You continued tracing patterns on his skin, moving to his neck where you could feel his pulse jumping beneath your touch. “You used to flinch when I got too close.”

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “I wasn't used to it.”

“And now?” you asked.

Instead of answering with words, he kissed you again, deeper this time, his hand moving to the small of your back to pull you closer. The movie continued playing but it was completely forgotten as you lost yourself with Sieun's lips against yours.

When you finally broke apart you couldn't help but smile at the cute look on his face.

“I'm still not used to it,” he admitted quietly. “But in a different way now.”

“Explain,” you encouraged, your hand now resting on his chest.

Sieun took a moment to gather his thoughts, “Before, it was unfamiliar. A little uncomfortable. Now it's unfamiliar because it feels too good. Like I don't deserve it.”

Your heart ached at his words. Despite all your time together, parts of his past still haunted him.

“You deserve every good thing, Sieun,” you said firmly, taking his face in both hands so he couldn't look away. “Every single one.”

He leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours. “I'm trying to believe that.”

“Let me help you believe,” you whispered, and kissed him again.

The kiss deepened quickly, a year of careful restraint giving way to something more urgent. Sieun's arms tightened around you, pulling you practically onto his lap as his lips moved from your mouth to your jaw, then your neck, causing a shiver to run down your spine.

His usual composure was slipping, and you reveled in it, your hands sliding under his t-shirt to touch the warm skin beneath. You felt his muscles tense at the contact, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he made a low sound in the back of his throat that sent heat flooding through your body.

“Sieun,” you breathed, needing to hear his response, to know he wanted this as much as you did.

“I'm here,” he mumbled against your skin, then pulled back slightly to meet your gaze. “I'm always here with you.”

Something about those simple words, the sincerity behind them, made your heart swell. This was Sieun. He was a man of few words but had deep feelings. He expressed himself through actions rather than speech. You loved him.

Slowly you moved to straddle his lap, careful to make sure he was comfortable with your weight on him. Your eyes never left him to ensure this was okay. His hands settled on your waist, his breathing was noticeably uneven now.

“Is this too much?” you asked, knowing his boundaries had always been important to respect.

He shook his head, but still looked slightly overwhelmed. “Just give me a moment.”

You stayed still, watching the emotions play across his face. His hands tightened on your waist, then relaxed again.

“I've wanted this,” he admitted softly, the confession clearly difficult for him. “For a long time.”

“Me too,” you whispered, leaning forward to press your forehead against his again. “We can go as slow as you need.”

A small smile pulled at his lips. “We've been going slow for years.”

The observation, so accurate and yet so unexpected coming from him, made you laugh. “True. But that's okay.”

His smile widened slightly, and in that moment, he looked younger, lighter, and unburdened by the weight he always carried. You vowed to yourself to make him smile like that more often.

Sieun's hands moved from your waist to your back, pulling you closer until your chests pressed together. “Maybe,” he said, voice low, “we could go a little faster now.”

Your breath caught at his words. “I'd like that.”

Siuen grabbed your hand and dragged you towards his bed. He gently pushed you down on the bed and followed you down. He captured your lips once again and you sighed into the kiss. Your hands found their way under his shirt and traced his stomach. Sieun shivered at your touch. 

You tugged at the hem of his shirt and he understood, pulling his shirt over his head. The sight of him shirtless wasn't new to you. You had seen him like this before but the context was different now. It was more intimate. Your eyes traced his chest, faint scars littered all around, reminders from his past.

 Sieun watched you look at his chest, heat rising to his cheeks. “Your turn,” he said softly, his fingers playing with the edge of your top.

You sat up, allowing him to remove your shirt. His eyes darkened as he took in the sight of you in your bra. His hand came up to trace your face all the way down to the curve of your cup. His hand found the clasp of your bra and hesitated for just a moment until you nodded.  He unfastened your bra, the straps sliding down your arms.

Your chest was bare in front of him and your nipples hardened when the cool air touched them. Sieun reached to touch your breast, gently gliding his hand against them. You couldn't help but shiver at the contact, your body responding to his exploring hands. 

“You're beautiful,” he whispered. 

You reached up to touch his face, drawing him back to your lips. The kiss deepened as his hand continued to caress your breast, thumb brushing over your nipple and pulling a soft moan from your throat. The sound seemed to embolden him, his movements becoming more confident.

Sieun broke the kiss and moved his head down towards your left breast. He looked up at you, making eye contact before kissing your nipple then sucking it into his mouth. 

The pleasure that crashed through you was immediate and intense. Your back arched slightly, pressing your breast further into his mouth. Sieun's free hand moved to your other breast, thumbing over your nipple as his tongue swirled around your other nipple.

“Sieun,” you gasped, your fingers threading through his dark hair, holding him to you.

His mouth moved to your right breast, giving it the same attention while his hand replaced his mouth on the left. 

Sieun pulled back and thumbed at your nipples to make up for his mouth moving away. He was breathing hard and his eyes were full of lust. Sieun kissed your nipples one more time before his hands moved to your waist, his fingers tracing the waistband of your pants.

 “Can I?” he asked.

“Yes,” you breathed, lifting your hips to help as he carefully slid your pants down your legs, leaving you in just your underwear.

Sieun took a moment to look at you, his eyes traveling over your body with such intensity that you could almost feel it like a physical touch.

“Your turn,” you said with a small smile, copying his earlier words. 

He removed his sweatpants, leaving both of you in just your underwear. The sight of him nearly took your breath away. His erection was evident and you could see a tiny bit of pre-cum seeping through his boxers. 

“Sieun.” 

“Hm?”

“I want your fingers so bad.” You said while grabbing his hand and placing it to where you needed him the most. 

Sieun leaned in to kiss you. His hand slipped beneath your underwear and you gasped against his mouth as his fingers found you wet and waiting.

“Is this okay?” he asked, his movements slow and careful.

“More than okay,” you assured him while you guided his hand to your core. 

Sieun was a quick learner. He watched your reactions carefully, noting what made your breath hitch, what made you moan. When he finally found your clit a moan was ripped out of you. “Fuck Sieun! Right there! Keep going.” 

Sieun nodded, feeling emboldened by your response he grew more confident in his movements. He rubbed your swollen clit a bit faster and harder, making you squirm more and more. He lowered his head to your breast, lips closing around your nipple as his fingers worked between your legs. The dual sensation had you moaning his name, your hands tangling in his hair.

Siuen pulled off your breast and moved his fingers down towards your hole, circling your entrance. “Tell me what feels good,” he said softly, his eyes never leaving your face as he kept circling your entrance.

“Everything you're doing,” you breathed, gasping when he slowly slid a finger inside you. “Oh Sieun…”

He added another finger, stretching you gently as his thumb continued to work your sensitive bud. The dual sensation had you moaning beneath him, your hands clutching his shoulder. 

“Sieun. Baby,” you gasped, “I'm close.”

“I got you,” he murmured against your skin. The tenderness in his voice combined with the movement of his fingers sent you over the edge. Your body shuddered as waves of pleasure washed over you with Sieun's name spelling out your lips. 

As you came down from your high, you opened your eyes to find him watching you with a mix of awe and satisfaction. “Did I do good?” 

You smiled lazily up at him, getting cuteness aggression from him wanting approval. “Of course you did, baby.” 

You then reached for him, wanting to bring him the same pleasure he'd given you. Your hand slipped beneath the waistband of his boxers, wrapping around his cock. Sieun's breath hitched, his eyes closing briefly at your touch.

“You’re so hard, baby. Did you get turned on making me feel good?” 

Sieun just nodded. 

You smirked, and guided him onto his back. You removed his boxers then straddled his thighs before stroking him again. His eyes never left yours as you stroked him, learning what he liked by the subtle changes in his expression, the way his breath caught, the tension in his muscles. 

You pulled your hand away making Sieun whine. He quickly shut up when you leaned down and kissed his tip. You licked from his tip to his base, then backwards, teasing him before finally taking him in your mouth fully.

Sieun's head fell back against the pillow, a low groan escaping his throat. His hands hesitantly moved to your hair, not pushing or guiding, just connecting with you as you sucked him off. The sounds of soft gasps and quiet moans encouraged you to continue, taking him deeper.

“Y/n,” he breathed, his voice ragged. “That feels...ah. So good.”

You hummed in acknowledgment, the vibration making him tense beneath you. His breathing grew more erratic as you continued. It was intoxicating to see him like this. 

After a few minutes, his hand tightened slightly in your hair. “Wait,” he gasped. “I'm close. I’m going to-”

You pulled back, wiping your mouth as you looked up at him. “Sorry. I want you to cum inside of me.”

Sieun’s eyes widened but he nodded, complying with anything you said. You pulled him in a heated kiss. “I’m going to ride you.. With no condom, okay?” You whispered against his lips.

“Okay.” Sieun agreed, straightening himself against the headboard. 

You positioned yourself above him and lowered yourself slowly until you were stuffed with his cock. Both of you gasped at the sensation. You stayed still for a moment to adjust. Sieun's hands gripped your hips, his eyes locked on yours.

“You okay?” he asked, always concerned for your comfort even in his own pleasure.

“Perfect. You?” 

“Good but, fuck. You’re so tight.”

You giggled before moving your hips up a little, careful not to pull off of him, then slammed back down his cock. The both of you moaned, Sieun moving his head into the crook of your neck. 

You again started to slowly go up and down, Sieun was still hiding his face on your neck. He was biting his lips, trying to keep himself from moaning too loud. You were so tight around him, he thought he was going to die as you continued your motion on his cock.

You started to get a bit winded and Sieun noticed. Sieun surprisingly rolled you guys over and took charge, pushing into you softly. You both were close, desperation evident from the way you were whining and on the way he was sloppily rubbing your clit while thrusting. 

“Sieun, I’m close. Please. Let’s cum together.” 

Siuen nodded and sped up his hips, his thrusts becoming even more desperate as he chased both your pleasure and his own. His fingers worked faster against your clit, his movements becoming more pleasurable with each of your soft moans.

Sieun nodded and sped up his hips, his thrusts becoming more desperate as he chased both your pleasure and his own. His fingers worked against your clit with renewed determination, his movements becoming more confident with each of your soft moans.

“Y/n,” he gasped, his voice strained. “I can't hold on much longer.”

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper inside you. “Then don't,” you said, your hands gripping his shoulders. “Let go, baby.”

His rhythm faltered as he drove into you one last time, burying himself deep. You felt him pulse inside you as he came, the sensation triggering your own release. Your walls clenched around him as waves of pleasure washed over you both. Sieun's mouth found yours in a messy, passionate kiss that swallowed your cries of pleasure.

For a moment, you stayed locked together, hearts racing, bodies trembling with aftershocks. Sieun's forehead rested against yours, his breathing gradually slowing as he came down from his high. When he finally opened his eyes, they were filled with such tenderness that it made your heart ache.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly. 

You smiled, still feeling the pleasant hum of satisfaction throughout your body. “More than okay.”

He made and a move to pull out of you but you wrapped your legs tighter around him. “No stay.” 

Sieun laughed a little, “Y/n I need to clean you up. My cum is still inside you.”

You pouted, “I don’t care.”

“You’ll care when we’re getting plan b from the pharmacy,” Sieun joked. 

You punched his arm jokingly while laughing, “Stop. I’m on the pill anyways.” 

Sieun visibly relaxed at your words, a small smile playing on his lips. “Still I need to clean us up.” 

He carefully pulled out of you and rolled you to face him. His arm draped over your waist, keeping you close as his dark eyes studied your face. 

“I love you.” He said it so quietly you almost missed it. 

Your heart skipped a beat. Those three words. He'd never said them before even though you’d known how he felt for a long time. Sieun showed his feelings through actions, not words, but hearing it spoken aloud made tears well in your eyes.

You tilted your head up to look at him. “I love you too. So much.” You pressed a sweet kiss to his chin “And I am so happy.” 

You laid your head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. His fingers traced lazy patterns on your back, occasionally stopping to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Stay the night?” he asked after a while, his voice hopeful.

“Obviously.” You replied, content.

────୨ৎ────

Thank you guys so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed. Please feel free to message me and request stuff! I havent written in forever but WHC woke me up from the dead. <3

[eraserbread]

what about make up sex with toji after a nasty argument….. kinda need

wife guy, this. ex husband, that. what about toji fushiguro's mistress - the other woman? ✧

→ adultery, toxic relationship dynamics, skin marking, sexually explicit content

it's just the way things are. toji makes it known that you aren't his priority. he has a beautiful wife, a promising son, and an idea of life you can't quite grasp.

but, it surely doesn't have you in mind because he's always shrugging you off. it'll be stupid, like saying he'd call you back and just never will. it's always your fault, because he had to pick his kid up, and you should've known he would be busy all day.

silly you for thinking your boyfriend would act like one.

silly you for thinking he would keep his date night promise. now, you're stuck on a busy sidewalk in tokyo, cars whizzing past and mixed voices making it feel like you're standing alone in a wind tunnel.

it wasn't anything fancy, just stupid tourist ramen downtown. the shop was dark, so nobody could see his face if they recognized it. secrecy is everything.

but he doesn't even show up, and all of your calls and texts go dead.

so, when you see him kicked up in the middle of your apartment, beer hanging from his thick fingers, you're fuming.

"hey, pretty." he drones low, like he knows you love him. after all, you are all dressed up for him—short skirt, makeup, and jewels. it's what he needs from you, something his wife doesn't give much anymore.

but toji has one glaring flaw, he doesn't understand you. you could say he doesn't understand women at all. it's why he's reaching outside of his sexless marriage for help. it's why you're standing in your doorway choking back tears as he drinks his beer down.

"so you just ignored all my calls and texts on purpose?"

"hm... i don't have my phone." he's only halfway looking at you, watching a pretty actress on the tv prance around for his attention. It's so dark, you reach to flip the lights on.

and when you can see him better, that familiar stare is bleak and loveless—taking you in like a predator would prey. yet, he's still so gentle and gruff when he says, "no use fighting when you look like that."

"it would just kill you to pretend, wouldn't it?" you're cursing yourself, not knowing why you're so backed up with unsaid words when you know this is how he acts. toji never, ever changed. "if all I am is a fuck to you, that's fine, but just say it!"

"there's nothing to say—you know what you are to me." he's sitting up quickly, swinging his legs from the table to plant his bare feet on the ground. "so, stop it with the insecure shit. matter of fact, shut up, and come here." dingy beer can crushing on the table, heels digging into the floor, toji wants to leave—but he wants to stay. he wants you to do your job and stop it already.

if he wanted the fights and tension, he would've snuck into his wife's bed tonight. instead, he's crawling to your doorstep. can't you see how special you are to his body him?

but, you're just as stubborn as he is, so you dig your heels right back, fists balled at your sides. "why won't you even apologize? or, say anything... nice to me... ever?!"

toji watches you for a second, his soft, scarred lip dipping into the ghost of a frown. you're a pitiful scene right now, face buried in your hands as you cry—bare knees cold and shaking, makeup smudged, and so overcome. it'd be endearing for him if you weren't so hunched in on yourself; it hides your body.

then, he lets out a throaty groan, pressing his hands to his knees as he stands up. it's buried behind your soft sniffles, but the sound of footsteps is unmistakable, just like the feeling of a firm hand across the side of your neck.

"stop crying, i'm sorry." you're turning your face away when he grabs it, hiding your ruined face with dirty palms. "hey, come on, I mean it."

and, you already forgive him. because, why wouldn't you? now, you're more embarrassed than anything. you want him. he wants you. the sensation—it's in the air, clogging your pores and blocking your airways.

and he tugs your wrists from your face and kisses you like he loves you.

and then, he fucks you like that—finally. raw, pushed face first into your tear-soaked mattress.

toji wouldn't have you any other way. he never really fucks you any other way, except buried to the hilt pressed in doggy. the way your cunt expands around him... god, it just makes him crazy. the bruises that bloom on your ass when he's got two fistfuls, the stretch of skin as he pulls you apart... yeah, he's cooked. he loves this so much. not you. never you.

toji loves his wife to the ends of the earth, but the way you're arching your back and mewl little, embarrassed sounds into your arms is damning. skin-to-skin with your softness is akin to bathing in a bucket of clouds, naked to the core. he opens his eyes to see what he's feeling again, then silently wishes he could see your face.

after all, he made you cry. now, he has to make it all better.

and you two start to feel a bit more even when toji pulls the heaviness of his cock out of you, sharp teeth bared as he goes face-first into your sobbing, stretched hole. biting down on your sheet silences the cry you give him, but toji wants to hear you.

so, he reaches his big arm over your bowed body, grabbing a handful of your hair to pull your face from the mattress. he knows you're cumming before you do, and he wants to hear it.

needs to taste it. yearns to be as close as possible to you.

[bunnwich]

Was just revisiting your blog for some quality Leona content but I was wondering in you had some more Leona bf HCs to feed us? Tysm for all the hard work you do fr.🛐🛐🛐

Hi! I assume you’re talking about this post? I’m really flattered you enjoy my stuff. Thank you so much!! I’ll echo what I said in my other post that I think shipping and yumeing with a comfort character is very personal and that little headcanons and interpretations can vary from person to person. At the end of the day, it’s about what YOU wanna see and reflect into your romance! I think taking the time to add your own lil HCs and lore is the fun part!

✨MORE✨ Leona Boyfriend Headcanons

Bedtime rituals are important: Leona mentions enjoying baths a few times, so I think that this quiet time with his partner would be his favorite, and Leona is even more motivated to do nightly self-care rituals. And when his partner doesn't stay the night, sometimes he "forgets" and does wear his braids multiple days. (Leona just mentions that you should come over and fix his braids if you don't like how he does it when you're not around.)

Unfortunately, he enjoys banter, teasing, and playfighting. Anyway, he can get a little rise out of you. NGL, he’s a super annoying bf that makes you wanna hit him sometimes, but in a lighthearted way. It’s never mean, only annoying. You'll become wise to his "tells" anyway, and realize he’s not serious (he’s very hard for others to read BTW) BUT you KNOW when he’s just pulling your leg.

Eating meals together is another thing he always tries to do, and works his schedule around this ritual. He likes the idea that you are getting enough to eat, and I do think sharing a meal is one of his love languages. Seeing you nourished and while indulging in delicious food (something he also enjoys) makes him feel good.

He doesn’t tolerate disrespect of you in ANY form, teasing is one thing, but he will never speak badly of you or let anyone else. AND HE’D NEVER IGNORE YOU OR ACT LIKE HE’S SIMPLY PUTTING UP WITH YOU. (✨No aloof BF here!!✨) In fact, he may get the habit of texting you TOO much. He’s a handful, and you are his emotional springboard in a way. He doesn't have many close bonds with others, so when he's away from you for too long, he gets restless and will start texting you what he's doing and why it is so dull without you. (He’d never pull you away from friends or anything because he's pretty self-aware of how needy he can be. We love a man with emotional intelligence.)

He’s not a TOTAL pushover, especially when “Coach Leona” comes out. He's not afraid to tell you when he thinks you’re wrong. A tough love session or two where he may just tell you you're too nosy and should be focused on yourself, or let you know when he thinks you may be going about something wrong. He DOES place you on a pedestal in his mind, and if he’s a little tough on you, it's just bc he wants you to be successful. He believes partners should be a TEAM and push each other when needed. (You’ll certainly love to boss him around!!)

Once together, he will NEVER request that you clean up after him or run errands for him. (Unless you really want to ig.) You're NOT one of his underlings or expected to be subservient to him in any way, you are his partner and therefore equal.

 All of Savanaclaw’s attitude will shift about you, and he will request that they should respect you. And hey, if you are tough enough to get with their “boss” then ofc they would respect you anyway without him even saying.

Queen/King/Prince/Princess (whatever you prefer) Treatment. He wants to spoil you but respects your independence. He’s studied you well enough by now to know when to hold back and let you take control. It’s cute…and VERY attractive to see you lead. In fact, he wants to see you at your best, commanding situations and building your skills.

✨BRO HAS A LICENSE.✨ And (I think) a secret car. He keeps it just off the NRC campus. He used to go for long drives alone along Sage's Island’s coast, but now he has company~ He’ll drive you anywhere you wanna go. These drives with you keep him sane. And he’ll take you shopping and dinner dates, most likely just mean-mugging the whole time or falling asleep on the bench by the dressing rooms. BUT HE’LL DO IT FOR YOU. (Yes, dear…)

His peace is your alone time together, without the noise of the outside world or others. Just curled up in his arms playing mobile chess or watching one of those boring history documentaries I know he's into. (Relationships are about compromise, okay??) He’ll let you choose what you watch, too. He's a professional bedrotter, so on those days where relaxation is needed, he's right beside you, asking you what kind of food you want him to order for you. If you wanna yap to him about the terrible book you just read, hey he’s fine with that too!

He KNOWS he is not the most…well, exciting partner, and that self-consciousness shows through sometimes. He’ll do his best to keep you happy, but he probably needs reassurance that he’s not boring you to death with his 15-minute chess lectures or lethargic lifestyle. He’s an old man at heart.

IMO Leona got his first idea of love from romance novels!! After being disillusioned, he ofc put all that “nonsense” to bed as a kid. But I like to think there is still a part of him who is a hopeless romantic softie. He's secretly dreamed of having a “great love” in his life and a strong partner just like his brother. Someone not like all the others, and who will always be there by his side. So don't be surprised when he pulls out a move or line that you’d NEVER expect him to say. (Maybe a dry delivery, but he’d say it!!)

Not always, but sometimes, Leona can be…strangely sweet, but HE MEANS IT. I do think he’s a bit socially stunted in some areas. As in…he doesn't always know what to say in intimate situations, so stealing a few lines from this “stupid book” he read as a kid is NOT above him. That’s what a prince would say, right? In fact, in trying to be so PAINFULLY logical all the time, he might apply “romance” he learned from books in real life to a devastatingly cheesy, old-fashioned, and endearing degree. (He’d never tell tho.)

I’LL SAY IT, Leona’s version of “lovey dovey talk” is talking in the third person.  “You know your lion loves ya right?” “Your lion’s been lonely without ya.” “Your lion misses his_” (Insert whatever cheesy nickname he’s chosen for you). Notice how he conveniently puts himself as ✨possessed✨ by you. Because that's all he wants!! It's cemented in his head. Before he’s sure you feel the same, he’ll make sure you know that he is, in fact, YOUR lion. No arguments. You have to reap what you’ve sown.

In public, these “Your Lion” quips are whispered under his breath, maybe even in your ear. But, in private, he’s fine with rolling over for you like an overgrown house cat, and saying these things loud and proud. He’s looking at you with such a soft expression, you wonder if this is the same intimidating leader of the Savanaclaw dorm you came to know at the beginning of the year.

He’s completely love sick for you. He hates this, but also ✨REVELS✨ IN IT. And what I mean by this is, I think “being in love” would be a bittersweet experience for Leona. He feels very deeply too DEEPLY. He's always been a sensitive guy, and eventually he will settle into a comfortable love…but after SO MANY YEARS of being alone, not just romantically, but without many close bonds OF ANY KIND, the feeling of love would make him feel sorta…sick at first. But, being the grumpy masochist we know…I think Leona would give in to this torture, become addicted to you, especially after you promise that you’re here to stay.

At night, he holds you a little too tight sometimes, but that’s because...he can’t believe you’re really here with him, and the thought of going back to how his life was before you were in it is more painful than anything.

[moon-fics]

Run Hot

Pairing: Bob Reynolds x Reader

Summary: The heating in the tower has broken in the middle of winter. This leaves everyone trying to find warmth any way possible.

A/n: I can't write angst anymore. I love comfort fics with Bob. He doesn't deserve pain.

This had to be a punishment or some sort of payback from Valentina. There's no way a fully operational and multimillion-dollar tower suddenly lost heating in the middle of winter. It's freezing, and the number of windows that cover half the building isn't helping.

You walk into the main room, where a fireplace is displayed on one of the screens. Almost no one is there due to how cold it is. The only people around are Alexei and Bob, who are sitting on opposite sides of the room.

Alexei is using alcohol to fight the cold. He's sitting on one of the couches with a bottle of vodka next to him. You don't try to disturb him as he watches his phone screen and laughs to himself.

That leaves you with Bob, who is reading a book near one of the windows. He's created some sort of nook in the corner to relax. There's a large bean bag that he hoards along with blankets and a pile of books. Ever since he settled into the tower, he's been reading wellness books.

"Anything interesting?" You ask while crouching next to him. You don't encroach on his space. "I haven't read a wellness book in years." You admit.

He looks up from his book with a subtle smile. He doesn't close it, but he leaves his thumb in the middle of the crease. You don't understand how he can sit this close to the window and not be shivering. He actually looks rather warm.

"It's mostly on how to create positively," He explains with a shrug. You won't ask further because that sounds like someone only he'd be interested in. "Hey, where did everyone go?" He asks while glancing around. You're astounded by how oblivious and unaware he is.

"It's like 5 degrees in here. Everyone is in their rooms under the covers," You say with amusement. "Did you not notice?"

"No, not really. I mean, I'm pretty comfortable with the temperature. It's actually nice." He scratches his neck. You can't stop yourself from glaring at him and feeling a bit jealous. Of course, the guy with god-like powers doesn't get cold either. "I usually run hot, so not having to prevent myself from sweating is pleasant."

"I hate you." You grumble while moving to sit on the floor. Your legs are aching from crouching, and you don't want to end the conversation here. "I hope the heat turns back on and you sweat through all your clothes." You tease.

"You can just sit closer to me," He suggests while patting the bean bag. There's enough room for both of you, so you don't hesitate to climb on. The moment you do, you can feel his warmth. He's practically radiating it.

It's not enough to keep you from shivering, but it's better than nothing. You glance down at his book and read a short passage. He's too far into it for you to understand what is being told, but you continue to read anyway.

"I could read it to you," He places the book on his knee for you to get a better look. You honestly doubt you'd be able to absorb the words he'd be saying. "If not, you could pick a book from my pile and read with me." His offer is sweet. He wants to include you in his activity and space. The only other person he's offered that to is Yelena, and she usually doesn't take up on reading.

"I don't mind just looking out the window," You say. You glance out the window to see the snow falling over the city. From this high up, you can see the rooftops that are blanketed in snow. The people below are leaving trails on the sidewalk.

After a few minutes, you can sense yourself growing tired. Even as you force yourself to follow snowflakes as they fall, you can sense it. You can't stop your head from lulling a few times, nearly hitting Bob's shoulder.

After the fifth time, he shuts his book and places it down on the floor. "You can use me as a pillow. I'm not going to... You know." He gestures to his head, and it makes you smile. Out of everyone on the team, you fear Bob the least. "I've got it under control for the most part." He says in a quieter voice.

"Yeah, but you're busy reading. I don't want to disturb that." You say. You rub your face to stay awake. The feeling of your cold hand against your cheeks gives you a tiny boost of energy.

"Just use me as a pillow!" He says a bit louder. Bob is never one to shy away from physical touch. If it's gentle, he'll happily accept it. So, you let out a groan and do something you'll probably regret later. You swing your legs over his and position yourself against his chest.

There's a moment of silence where you debate standing up and rushing to your room. Before you can suck up your dignity his arms wrap around you. His body is like a furnace that prevents you from running.

You go to look up at him, but he quickly places his head on yours. You force your eyes to roll up as high as they can. You can barely see his face, but there's no mistaking the redness of his cheeks. You also notice his hand reaching for his book again. He opens it but fidgets with the page instead of reading it.

"All good?" You ask. He clears his throat and nods his head as best he can without hitting yours.

"A- all good," He confirms. He can't hide the rasp in his voice or how his words escape him. It's like seeing him in the vault all over again, meek and nervous. "Just, uhm, just trying to read." He lifts his book slightly to show proof.

With his confirmation, you shut your eyes. Except you don't sleep. You're listening to his heartbeat and how fast it is when his hand begins playing with a strand of your hair. It's light, and he avoids pulling on it.

"Bob?" You whisper. He lets out a hum in response as his eyes scan the page. "Do you want a better strand?" You ask in a joking tone. His fingers let go of your hair, and you're disappointed. You enjoyed the feeling of his hand twirling the small strand.

"N-no, sorry. I didn't realize..." He mumbles. "I'll leave it alone."

"You don't have to. I wasn't complaining." You assure him. You take his free hand and lift it back to your hair. You're about to let go when his grip tightens around yours. His rough palms slide against yours, and when you don't pull away, he lowers them.

"Then is, uhm, this ok?" He asks with hope in his voice. Although you're feeding off his warmth, you can now feel your body producing its own. Your face burns, and you're so glad he can't see it right now.

"Perfectly fine." You say while trying to hide any signs of being flustered.

You stay like that for a while, and eventually you do fall asleep. Unbeknownst to you, so does he. This gives Ava and Walker a great opportunity to snap a photo for later. Just to save in their 'We Knew It' album.

[alohajix]

𝐎𝐮𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐓𝐞𝐚𝐦

Description: [Y/N] signed her son up for soccer to help him feel a little braver. She didn’t expect it to feel like she was the one learning how to start over. And she definitely didn’t expect the coach to start feeling like home.

Warnings: single parenthood, child anxiety, parental guilt, emotional vulnerability, fear of abandonment, slow-burn romance, eventual consensual smut (soft to intense).

Word count: TBD.

author’s note: this little mini-story is actually part of something a bit bigger! if you enjoyed part one, i’m planning to share the four other parts exclusively on my patreon as i write them. there’s zero pressure, of course—just knowing you’re here reading already means the world to me. but if you’d like to support my work even more and follow this story as it continues, you’ll be able to find the rest over there when they’re ready. thank you so much for reading. i appreciate you more than you know! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

Main Masterlist

Marked by Midnight’s Masterlist

***

Warnings: child nervousness, social overwhelm, parental self-doubt, references to past social exclusion, emotional tension, fear of letting someone in.

Word count: 3,748.

The field is busier than I expected. Parents already staking their claims with fold-out chairs along the sidelines, sipping from oversized thermoses, shouting to each other over the hum of kids in matching jerseys sprinting across the grass like it's the World Cup. My stomach pulls tight as I kill the engine, my hands still wrapped around the steering wheel like I'm not entirely sure if we should even be here.

I glance into the rearview mirror, catching Archie in the back seat, small hands fidgeting with the hem of his jersey again. He's been doing that since we left the apartment—rolling the fabric between his fingers like it might unravel if he stops. It's bright red, way too big on him. He'd wanted it that way. Said the bigger one felt safer. Like armor, he told me, with the kind of serious little face only a six-year-old could pull off. But looking at him now, all I can think is how small he really looks in it.

I let out a slow breath and glance toward the field again, already feeling the weight of every other parent who looks like they've done this a hundred times before. Like they belong here. Like they belong together.

I climb out of the car, shut my door gently, and walk around to his side. He doesn't move when I open it, just looks up at me with those wide, worried eyes I know too well. The same eyes I've seen every time we try something new. I crouch down so we're level, resting my elbows on my knees.

"Alright, champ... you ready?"

His feet swing nervously over the edge of the seat. His voice is so soft I almost miss it.

"Do I have to go with them by myself?"

God, how many times have I heard that question in one form or another? First days of school, new babysitters, birthday parties where he doesn't know anyone but me. The same fear, every time. The same knot in my stomach when I have to lie just a little to make him believe this time will be different.

I reach for his hand, curling my fingers around his.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to," I tell him quietly, brushing a piece of hair off his forehead. "But remember what we said? About trying? About being brave enough to see if it feels a little better once you get started?"

He bites his lip hard enough to leave a mark, glancing toward the field. I follow his gaze, taking in the kids already spread out in messy clusters, parents shouting encouragement like this is the most important thing in the world. My throat feels tight just looking at it.

"I'll be right here," I add softly. "The whole time. You can look for me whenever you want."

His chin wobbles just a little, but after a second, he nods. It's barely there, but it's enough. I press a quick kiss to his temple, breathing him in like it might settle something in me, too. That familiar scent of shampoo and syrup and him. My safe place, even when I'm the one who's supposed to be his.

I hold out my hand.

"Come on. Let's go check it out."

He slips his hand into mine without saying another word, holding on tight. Tighter than usual. We start walking toward the noise. And even though I've already promised him it's going to be okay, I'm not sure I believe it yet.

The closer we get, the more it feels like my skin's been pulled too tight. Like every step drags me further into a place I'm not convinced we belong. Archie's fingers are sweaty in mine, small and tense, and I can feel the tiny tremble in them with every squeeze. He's walking slower now, half a step behind, like if he keeps dragging his feet long enough, maybe I'll turn us around and call the whole thing off.

I want to. God, I want to. But I don't.

We stop at the edge of the field, just shy of the first line of folding chairs. I shift my weight, standing tall enough to look like I know what I'm doing, even though the truth feels like it's unraveling by the second.

Parents are everywhere—chatting over the hum of thermoses being popped open, stretching their legs out toward the grass like they've claimed this territory a dozen times before. Some of them are wearing team hoodies. Some already know each other's kids by name. You can tell by the way they laugh like it's nothing new.

I tuck Archie in a little closer to my side, scanning the field until I find the group in red jerseys forming near the far goalpost. A man's standing in front of them, clipboard tucked under one arm, whistle hanging loose from his neck. His sleeves are already shoved up to his elbows, hands gesturing casually as he calls the group to attention.

"All right, Red Rockets, let's bring it in!"

The way he says it catches me off guard—not sharp, not impatient, not the way I expected someone to rally a group of six-year-olds on a cold Saturday morning. It's... soft. Confident, but not loud. Like he already knows they'll listen without needing to shout.

I feel Archie flinch just a little beside me, his body shrinking closer to mine like the sound spooked him. I glance down, smoothing my thumb across the back of his hand.

"It's okay," I whisper, even though I have no idea if that's true.

When I look back up, the man's moving. Walking toward the group of kids gathering into a loose circle in front of him. I catch the edge of his voice again—lower this time, more focused on the ones who haven't settled yet.

Archie stiffens all over again, frozen like he's deciding whether to bolt or hide. And all I can think is please don't shut down. Not yet.

I'm already running through my backup plan in my head—how to peel him off the sidelines gently if he refuses to move, how to keep my voice from cracking when I tell him it's okay, we can try again another week—when I catch movement from the corner of my eye. He's walking toward us. Steady. Unbothered. No clipboard this time, no whistle in his hand. Just easy steps like he's done this before. Like he's not in a rush to fix anything.

Archie stiffens even more, his little body locking up next to mine like he's bracing for impact. I lean down toward his ear, lowering my voice to that quiet, steady hum I've learned works better than anything else.

"It's okay, baby. Just breathe. I'm right here."

He stops a couple of steps away, leaving space like he knows better than to crowd us. His hands are loose in his jacket pockets, his mouth tipping into the kind of smile that feels... patient. The kind that makes it look like this isn't a problem to solve—it's just a moment to walk through.

"Hey there," he says, nodding once like it's the most normal thing in the world to approach strangers this way. "First day nerves?"

I shift my weight, pulling Archie a little closer to my side.

"Yeah," I answer softly, my voice rougher than I mean for it to sound. "We just moved here. Still trying to find our place."

He nods like that makes perfect sense. Like he's heard it before.

"'S a lot, isn't it?" he murmurs, glancing toward the field again like he remembers exactly what it feels like to stand on the outside of something. "Is that your little one, then? Number five?"

I look down at Archie, who's still clinging to me, eyes wide but curious now.

"Yeah. Archer. We... we call him Archie."

Harry crouches down slowly, resting his elbows on his knees. He doesn't reach for Archie. Doesn't try to pull him out of hiding. He just lowers himself to his level and lets his voice drop even softer.

"Hiya, Archie. I'm Harry. Coach Harry, technically, but that feels a bit too serious for six-year-olds, don't you think?"

Archie doesn't answer, but his grip on my sweater loosens just a little. His eyes flick to Harry's shoes, then to his face, then back to me like he's checking if I'm still here. Harry keeps going, easy as anything.

"Y'know, we've got a job open today," he adds with a quiet grin. "Someone needs to help me set up all those cones over there before the team comes in. Think you might be able to help me with that?"

Archie shifts his weight, biting his lip, and for a second I'm sure he's going to shut down again. But then—so small I almost miss it—he nods. Just once. Harry doesn't make a big deal out of it. Doesn't whoop or cheer or make it a moment bigger than it needs to be. He just leans back on his heels, pushes to his feet, and tips his head toward the pile of cones on the grass.

"We'll just be over here," he says to me softly. "Promise I'll bring him right back."

I stay frozen where I am, arms wrapped tight around myself like I might actually fall apart if I move too fast.

Archie follows him. Slowly, yeah—but he follows. Two tiny steps at first. Then one more. He's a full body length behind, but he's moving. Moving toward something without me. My throat feels like it's closing up just watching it happen.

I hover at the edge of the chairs, not daring to sit down. My eyes flick to the other parents spread out along the sidelines, already swapping stories about school pickups and carpool schedules like this is just another weekend. Some of them aren't even watching the field. Some are already halfway through their second cup of coffee, shouting out names like they've done this a hundred times.

It's strange, standing here alone. My arms wrapped around myself like I'm bracing for something, like I'm waiting for a punch that never comes. I glance up at the sky for no reason at all, noting the gray clouds stretching low and heavy over the trees at the far end of the field. One gust of wind, and it'll probably rain.

Of course, I didn't bring an umbrella. I didn't think that far ahead. I'd been too busy worrying about Archie. About whether or not I could even get him this far.

I shift again, pressing my tongue to the back of my teeth to stop myself from calling Archie back. My fingers itch to reach for him, to pull him out of the spotlight and hide him somewhere safer. Somewhere smaller. Somewhere where he doesn't have to try so hard. But I don't. I stay planted. I watch Harry kneel beside the pile of cones, picking them up one by one and laying them out on the grass like he's got all the time in the world. He doesn't even glance back to see if Archie's still following. He just... waits.

Archie shifts his weight from foot to foot, looking back toward me like he's asking permission without saying it out loud. My chest tightens, but I nod once, small and steady, like I'm not terrified he's about to fall apart in front of everyone. And then he moves again. Steps right up to the pile and crouches awkwardly, his little fingers fumbling to grab a cone. Harry leans in a little, points to a spot on the field, and Archie starts walking toward it, arms stiff like he's afraid to drop it.

I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. My throat stings with it. Like I've been holding that breath for longer than just today. It's small. So small. But it's more than I expected. I've seen people give up on him before. I've watched them get impatient when he freezes or takes too long to answer or hides behind me when they try to pull him out of his shell too fast. I've heard the tight, strained "it's okay, some kids just aren't social" more times than I can count. Always laced with that disappointed edge like they've already decided he's too much work.

I've seen the way they check their watches. The way they glance toward me with that half-frown, half-smile that really means "he's slowing us down." I've walked Archie back to the car more times than I can count with his head on my shoulder, whispering it's not his fault even when I know he doesn't believe me.

And every time it happens, I feel that weight in my chest. That bitter little voice in the back of my head that says see? This is why you keep your circle small. This is why you don't expect people to stay.

But Harry doesn't flinch. Doesn't push. He just lets Archie take his time, moving one cone at a time like there's nothing else to do today but wait for him to figure it out.

I glance down at the ground by my feet, kicking at the grass with the tip of my shoe like that might ground me somehow. It doesn't. All I can do is watch. All I can do is hope. I feel my heart catch in my throat because I already know I shouldn't let myself get used to that. He's just doing his job. And it's nothing. But the way it feels settling in my chest tells me I'm lying to myself already.

The rest of practice passes in a blur. I barely register what the other kids are doing. I don't hear a single word the parents around me say. I'm too locked in on Archie. On the way he stays close to Harry, watching every move like he's afraid he might miss something important.

And somehow, somehow, he stays. He doesn't run back to me. He doesn't shut down. He doesn't quit.

By the time Harry claps his hands together and calls the team in one last time, Archie's cheeks are flushed, curls sticking to his forehead, his little hands tugging on the bottom of his jersey again—but his shoulders aren't hunched the way they were when we got here. He's tired, but he's still standing.

I push off the fence and start toward the edge of the field, hugging my arms around myself again like it's going to hold me together for the next thirty seconds.

Harry crouches down to Archie's level again, says something low that makes Archie nod. Then he stands, turns toward me, and starts walking over with that same easy pace like we aren't two strangers standing on opposite sides of a life we haven't figured out yet.

"He did great," Harry says when he reaches us, nodding toward Archie like he means it. "Took a little warming up, but he stuck it out."

I swallow the knot in my throat, brushing Archie's hair off his forehead again.

"Thanks for being patient with him. I know he's... a lot sometimes."

Harry frowns a little—just for a second—like he doesn't like hearing that.

"He's not a lot," he says quietly, like it's a fact. "He's a kid. Kids move at their own pace."

And just like that, something in my chest pulls tight again. Because no one ever says it like that. Not without sounding like they're trying to convince themselves. But Harry says it like he actually believes it.

I shift my weight, blinking hard to keep my expression neutral. My mouth opens to thank him again, but nothing comes out. I chew the inside of my cheek instead, heat creeping up the back of my neck.

Before I can embarrass myself further, he clears his throat, rocking back on his heels.

"Listen, uh—would it be alright if I grabbed your number? Just in case we have to reschedule or... if Archie forgets anything?"

I freeze for a second longer than I probably should. I shouldn't. I shouldn't. That little voice in my head kicks in fast, warning me not to blur the lines. Not to give anyone even an inch closer than they need to be. But he's looking at me with that same steady patience I've watched him give to Archie all morning. Like I have a choice. Like he'll back off if I say no.

I nod. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, already unlocked to a blank contact screen. I take it carefully, fingers brushing his. His skin is warm. Calloused, like he works with his hands for real. I feel it all the way down to my wrist, like something I shouldn't notice but do anyway.

I stare at the screen longer than I need to. I could fake it. I could type a number off by one digit and let this stay exactly what it is. Professional. Detached. Easy to forget.

But my thumb moves before I can stop it. I type my real name—[Y/N]. My real number.

When I hand it back, Harry glances at the screen, then up at me again with that easy, unreadable smile.

"Perfect. Thanks [Y/N]." God help me, I don't trust myself not to read too much into it.

Archie shifts beside me, tugging lightly on the hem of my sleeve like he's working up to something. He's got that scrunched-up little look on his face—the one he gets when he's thinking too hard. His cheeks are still flushed from running around, curls sticking to his damp forehead, but his eyes are darting between me and Harry like he's trying to figure something out.

Harry tucks his phone back into his jacket pocket and gives Archie one last ruffle of his hair, starting to turn back toward the rest of the kids when Archie blurts it out—loud enough for half the field to hear.

"Mama... can Coach Harry come to dinner sometime?"

The words hit me like a slap to the chest. Quick. Sharp. Immediate. My stomach drops. My throat closes. I freeze.

Harry doesn't. He doesn't laugh. He doesn't flinch. He doesn't even blink, really. His smile doesn't falter for a second. He just crouches down to Archie's level again, his voice dropping low and soft, like it's just for him.

"Maybe one day, little man," Harry says, reaching out to tap two fingers lightly against Archie's tiny fist. "Gotta keep practicin' those kicks first, yeah? That's the deal."

Archie beams like he's just been promised Disneyland. I, on the other hand, feel like my face is on fire. My heart slams so hard I swear I can hear it in my ears. I glance around like I'm half-expecting someone to be standing there listening, but no one is. No one's paying attention to us at all.

Except me. Except Harry. Except Archie, who's already moved on like it's the most normal thing in the world to invite a complete stranger to dinner.

I clear my throat, tightening my grip on the strap of my bag.

"Alright, bud... let's grab your stuff."

Harry stands again, brushing his palms against his thighs like he's shaking off the grass. His eyes meet mine for one last second, and there's something there I can't quite name. Not teasing. Not pity. Just... something steady. Something that feels like he already knows I'm going to overthink this all night.

"See you next week?" I ask before I can stop myself, my voice tighter than I mean for it to be.

Harry nods, rocking back on his heels again.

"Wouldn't miss it."

And just like that, he's gone—turning back toward the pile of equipment like the last five minutes didn't knock the air clean out of my lungs.

Archie talks the whole walk back to the car. Little bursts of excitement tumbling over each other—how he kicked the ball once, how Coach Harry let him carry the cones, how next week he's going to run even faster. He's out of breath before we even make it across the parking lot, his tiny hand swinging in mine like all the fear from earlier never happened.

I keep nodding, making all the right noises, but it feels like my head is full of static. Like I can't get my feet back under me, no matter how many steps I take.

I get him buckled into his booster seat, double-check the straps even though I know they're fine. I lean in, pressing a kiss to his temple like I always do, breathing him in for just a second longer than necessary. He giggles, pushing at my face with one small hand.

"Mamaaa," he laughs, like I'm embarrassing him. Like it's funny. Like his heart isn't still tangled up in my hands the way mine is in his.

I shut the door quietly and lean back against the car, staring out at the emptying parking lot. Most of the families are gone already. The folding chairs are packed up, the chatter's faded, and the breeze is colder now than it was an hour ago. I wrap my arms around myself, digging my nails into my sleeves like that might stop the way my chest feels like it's caving in.

I don't know what I expected today to be. But it wasn't this. It wasn't the way Archie actually stayed. The way he looked—pink-cheeked and almost proud—for the first time in God knows how long. And it sure as hell wasn't the way Harry spoke to him. Or to me. Like we weren't some charity case. Like he wasn't performing patience for points. Like he actually... saw us. Both of us.

I shove my hand into my pocket, pulling out my phone before I can stop myself. My thumb hovers over the screen for half a breath too long before I swipe it open and scroll to my contacts.

Harry.

I lock the screen again and stuff it deep into my jacket like I can hide from it if I don't look too long.

"Okay," I whisper to myself, pushing off the car and moving toward the driver's side.

I'm already overthinking it.

***

@cloudyluun @gem1712 @dipmeinhoneyh @idk1990 @harrrrystylesslut @sparxx27 @likea-silhouette @fangirl509east @starryhaze-crystal @mads3502 @run-for-the-hills @twinklaei @belgianblondee @pbandnutella @maudie-duan @cat-loves-music @harrysgirl2003 @harrystyleshotwife @secretands-blog @dutchtheatrelore @angeldavis777 @idkidcfuboh @maddiesalvatore1839

[pomefioredove]

can I have uhhhhh, a sugar cookie, sugar order 5 , with frosting, sprinkles, and powdered sugar :D

(i hope i did this right, love ur writing <3)

ofc and thank you!!

order #5, sugar with frosting, sprinkles, powdered sugar

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ runaway, runaway

summary: you take in a runaway, not knowing he's the son of the richest man in the land tropes: hurt/comfort, only one bed (kinda), coffee shop au characters: kalim additional info: romantic, gender neutral reader, reader is not yuu, pre-nrc so both reader and kalim are younger, had fun writing this :)

Heavy is the hand that holds the OPEN/CLOSED sign.

Stained are the sleeves that wear the apron, sore are the arms that grind the coffee, and so on.

Your family had fallen asleep hours ago, and you had only now finished cleaning the cabinets, sweeping up straw wrappers and stirring sticks, wiping the windows, and seeing to the stock.

When you promised your parents you would close the coffeehouse, you... well, weren't counting on this much work.

It's half-past twelve, and you think you could sleep for two years after this. There go your aspirations of being a business owner... but, at least nothing is broken. No trouble. Right?

You wander to the wide windows to close the curtains, one by one, shrouding the deserted coffeehouse in darkness. No one is out at this hour, and so you can take your time, admiring the night sky and all its sparkling stars through the-

ACK!

You startle, stumbling back into a low table and falling flat on your butt. Something moved out there- stray dog, it had to be- but it's right against the window, standing on two legs, palms pressed against the glass-

It's a boy! Not a child, but not yet grown, in a brown robe, hood pulled over his head.

You stand, bracing yourself with a broom. "We're closed,"

You were hoping he'd leave, though you were expecting him to shout profanities and pound against the glass.

Rather, he smiles. "Oh, hello! Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I just smelled something delicious, and I had to see what it was!"

You blink. This isn't a rough neighborhood, but you weren't expecting a polite chat with a boy in rags at midnight.

"What's your name?" he asks, smiling as if he'd just made a friend.

You tell him, and he laughs. "Wow, pretty! You don't hear names like that in my home. I'm Kalim al- uh, I'm lost, I mean. Where am I? It's too dark to read the signs,"

He can read, too. Still, he's wearing what looks like a burlap sack, baggy and brown, beads of sweat on his forehead from the dying heat of the desert, or perhaps from wandering, walking to nowhere all night.

He must be really poor, you reason. How sad, to not have a home to go home to! No bed to bundle up in! You wouldn't know what you'd do without your family, or your coffeehouse, or your room, your music, your clothes...

You balance your broom against the wall and let him inside. The door closes behind him with a thud.

"North, near the edge of the desert. Where are you from?"

"Oh, I'm..." he starts. "It's not important. I'm not going back. What do you guys make here?"

"Coffee and tea,"

"Oh, I love tea!" he smiles. "And coffee! Well, I love everything delicious. Jamil brews me this really good kind..."

"Who's Jamil?"

"He's- oh, right. He's, um, no one," Kalim says, crossing his arms and pretending to be disinterested. "Thank you for letting me in- you're really nice."

"Well... I wouldn't have let you wander out there. The desert here isn't the safest at night,"

His eyes widen. "Is it? I had no idea,"

How strange. He's so... happy, for someone who's led such a hard life. You suppose there's something admirable about that- smiling in the face of suffering.

"You can stay in my room," you say. "Just don't take anything, okay? My family doesn't have a lot."

Kalim nods and lets you lead him to another door, his voice dropping low. "I would never,"

There's something strangely familiar about this boy. Maybe you'd seen him on a milk carton, or something. You'd heard adults say that they do that in some towns. But not here- what are you thinking?

Kalim looks around your room, eyes wide at your clothes, your books, your desk full of paper and splattered with ink. He only sits on the bed when you ask him too (seeing him spin around the room was making you dizzy).

"So, what brings you here?" you ask, drawing your knees to your chest. He does the same, imitating you.

"I ran away from home,"

He admits it in an ashamed sort of way, as if he had committed a crime- you're not sure someone so sewn with guilt could do such a thing.

You tilt your head to the side. "Why? Were your parents cruel?"

"Oh, no, they were the best,"

"Were you being forced to marry someone you didn't love?"

"No, but that sounds scary,"

"Were they going to send you away to become a man?" you'd read that in a book, once.

"Oh, no!" Kalim says. "Worse than all of that. I did something awful."

As you'd suspected. "What did you do?"

He hugs his knees tighter to his chest, his head hung low. "I hurt someone I care about,"

"On purpose?"

"No,"

"Then why do you feel bad about it?"

"It was my fault," he says. "If I wasn't... who I am, then it never would have happened. Jamil is sick and it's all my fault."

There's that name again. His eyes glisten, reflecting the light of the stars in his tears. His hair is white, like the midnight moon. Where have you seen him before?

"I think Jamil will forgive you if you tell him how you feel," you offer. You'd also read that in a book, once. "If he cares about you like how you care about him, then he'll understand."

Kalim sniffles, wiping his nose on his burlap sleeve, pushing it up to reveal a sliver of silken white beneath. "But what if it happens again?"

You don't know how to answer that. The dark of the room makes everything feel more serious, solemn, as if you're at a funeral for someone you don't know.

"But what if it doesn't?"

Kalim is quiet, mumbling that question to himself. "But what if it doesn't...?"

You place a hand on his shoulder, almost protectively so, to give him peace of mind for the moment.

And then he hums. "But what if it doesn't? I like that," he wipes his tears on his sleeve and looks at you with that smile again. "You're really smart, you know. If I had to marry anyone, I'd hope it'd be you."

The sentiment, as sick with emotion as it is, stirs something in you.

Kalim is gone by morning. He might have left so as not to disturb you, but you know that he had gone home running, eager to see his friends again.

His family will be happy to see him, you wager. And you wonder if you'll see him again- will he be a boy at a bakery in another town? An apprentice at a blacksmith? Will his family own the next farm you find?

You can't be sure.

All you know, for now, is that somewhere in the world, there's a boy named Kalim, with a friend named Jamil, and you can only hope that they're happy.

[sunnyside30]

I don't think we talk enough about what Mac falling for Johnny means in terms of his perception of love and his relationship to Dennis. I mean, we talk a lot about Dennis catfishing and e-dating him and the sexual component of it —which gives us plenty to unpack about Dennis' psyche, so it's understandable— but my favorite aspect to dissect is Mac's willingness to "fall in love" with a ghost.

In the episode, Dennis mentions there being texts between them so we know Mac wasn't just talking to a wall the whole time, but he's been stood up by Johnny so many times.. yet he keeps at it, keeps going on errands and to motels just in case Johnny decides to actually meet him this time. He's constantly waiting for someone who never shows up for him, and that's reflective of Mac's entire character. He keeps searching for love and validation from his mom, his dad, Dennis.. and when he doesn't get it, he just keeps on pushing, putting in more effort because maybe this time it will be enough. He holds so tightly onto his faith in god, a being he can't even see or hear, but that represents a hope for eternal love if you do everything right and conform nicely to its supposed expectations.

Mac isn't a stranger to loving distant beings, so of course he fell in love with Johnny. He's so desperate for someone to love him back but the only form of "love" he recognizes is a distant kind. That's why he can't give his date from the episode a chance, and why he doesn't want anything to do with uncle Donald. Easy and earnest love isn't something Mac knows. Hell, it isn't even worth it. Love, in his experience, requires work and sacrifice, otherwise what's the point?

This also plays a lot into his dynamic with Dennis, and why Mac will never let go of it. Sure, we saw him kind of trying to move on in 'The Gang Gets Romantic' by fabricating a love story for himself with Greg, and a more genuine attempt in 'Frank vs. Russia' by dating Johnny, but all roads eventually lead back to Dennis. A part of it can be attributed to Dennis not letting him move on —keeping Mac at arm's length while giving him just enough to keep him hooked— but that's not all. At this point I don't think there's anything Dennis could do or not do to put a definitive end to Mac's obsession with him, because he's exactly the type of person Mac craves in his life. As mentioned before, Dennis is someone that makes him earn his love and respect, and Mac can't find that in other potential romantic partners. He already tried looking for it online, where you can meet all kinds of people from all kinds of places, and who did he find? Dennis.

Obviously, the Johnny thing being orchestrated by Dennis means that Mac "found him" on purpose, but the point here is that Mac didn't know that. From his perspective, it was a fresh start with someone completely new, a guy that met his subconscious requirements. It just so happens that his requirements are Dennis. Because as mushy and gooey as it sounds, at the end of the day Mac is irreversably in love with him. He loves Dennis so intrinsically that he falls for him a second time, without even being aware of it. And I suspect he always will, no matter how many times he tries to move on.

[nitewrighter]

Snow White and the Fae Co-Op

Part Four: Bravely Ran Away Away

Previous Parts: 1, 2, 3

Masterpost

CW for Animal death

---

I am gonna say that Snow gets a bit fuzzy on the details here. I don't know if it was a matter of trauma blurring stuff, or her weird fae sensory shit creating a lot of overlaps on the story, or what have you, but she only told me this part at like, chunks at a time, so this is how I can piece it together as best I can.

She managed to regroup with the prince not too long after the whole incident, but whether that was a day or three, I couldn't tell you. By the time she finds him again, though, he has a bandage over his nose. The first time they see each other again, he rushes up to her like he intends to suddenly take her up in a "Ohmygod you're not dead" hug but he manages to stop himself like a step and a half from her, and he studies her for a second, studies that worried little crinkle in her brow, and also he's forced to question, for a second, if she made him stop, or maybe that his own hesitation in this moment is a natural reflex of human will against that force that made him tear up the stairs at a single word from her.

"You made me leave," he says stiffly.

"Because it wasn't safe for you," Snow replies.

"I mean clearly, things aren't safe for you!"

"Yes, well, I know that she wants to kill me, but she can't, because if she could she would have done it already, but she doesn't register you as a threat in the slightest!"

"Thanks."

"Oh my god, you should be thankful for that!"

His shoulders stiffen and that unspoken assumption that there is nothing he can do to help her comes as a slap in the face to him this time. Humans and their masculinity, I swear. But then there's that iron in him again, and we all know about Fae and iron.

"So what are you going to do?" he asks.

Snow startles a sec because 'excuse you I am the Princess Messiah and maybe also the Evil Queen's heart kinda but either way you don't just question me.' But then she stammers, "I'm--that's--you can't expect me to immediately have a plan when she has that mirror!"

"So... you need help," the Prince concludes.

"If there was a plan, more people knowing it would make it easier to see with the mirror!" Snow snaps.

"So you're saying that you don't have a plan," the Prince follows up.

One thing about Snow is, with that freaky pasty skin, is that when she does that little rage/embarrassment flush humans do, it's crazy obvious. Also honestly really cute.

...I miss our Sentient Duck.

But Snow is still upset. Again, fucking teenager, and also there's all that nobility whatnot, so she says, "I don't owe you a plan. I don't owe you anything." Or something along those lines. Again, she kind of told this part in chunks so I'm piecing it together.

But the prince doesn't waver.

"I remember my parents' faces from before she took their kingdom," the words seep out of him like blood through a too-thin bandage being pressed down a little too hard, "Do you remember yours?"

"Shut up," Snow isn't meeting his eyes.

"I remember when they stopped tucking me in at night. I remember the way the stones of our castle were ice cold beneath my bare feet when I went to find out why. I remember them telling me to go to bed while they pored over maps with their generals."

"You don't get to bring this up now!" Snow can hear the Queen's venom in her own voice.

"You know something is rotten in this land, but you've never known a world outside what the Queen has built--"

Snow abruptly pivots away and moves to stomp off, but he catches her by the arm.

"Don't touch me," there's that Queen's venom in her again and his fingers slacken briefly but she doesn't tear away. A breath seethes between perfectly white teeth framed by full red lips.

"I'm sorry," a lank lock of dishwater hair is hanging in his face, "I know... you're frightened. I know... so much is weighing on you right now. But 'Can't do it alone' isn't the same as 'Can't do it.' You sang your song, and I'm here. I wasn't before, and I'm sorry for that, but you change the world, Princess. And you changed me. You made me wonder what more I can do. Do you wonder the same?"

And all at once there are big fat tears bubbling up in Snow's eyes, and a breath is seething between her teeth and she just tears her arm away and grabs up her skirts and hustles off.

A few days later the Evil Queen and Snow are eating dinner together.

"My dear," the Evil Queen says, cutting into her squab, "You look so pale of late."

"I have literally always looked like this," says Snow, poking at her roasted radishes.

"I think it would do you a world of good to go out into the royal wood and forage for some fresh ingredients for our stores. We could pick our practice back up, isn't that wonderful?"

"I thought you said I was hopeless."

"Oh, but you are Snow White! You are the very essence of hope!"

Snow pokes at her radishes again. "So you want me to go to the woods."

"Yes."

"Where there are very few witnesses."

"Mm."

"And do something that will require a significant amount of my concentration."

"Mm-hm!" the Evil Queen takes a bite of squab, "Unless... there's something wrong, my dear. Have I given you reason, recently, to doubt my intentions for you?"

Snow told me she thinks the Queen genuinely got a kick out of making her lie--of pitting Snow's inhumanly pure and magical nature against the survival instincts of her human flesh. I hated the way her face just kind of went blank when she told this part to me.

"No," Snow replies, "I would never doubt your intentions, my queen. I am grateful for your mercy and your wisdom every day."

"Excellent," the queen smiles, "You are such a clever thing, Snow, it would be a shame to give up on our lessons."

And Snow just stares at the radishes on her plate.

So a day or two after that Snow and the Huntsman are both riding out to the castle portcullis when the prince tears out after them yelling "HEY! HEEYYY!" And Snow's head swings around like 'Oh fuck he's going to get himself killed,' so she glanced over to the Huntsman and sweetly says, "Oh dear--he's having one of his fits again. Artists, you know. if I may have a moment?"

And the Huntsman shrugs and Snow swings off her horse and with one hard sharp look at the prince he slides to a stop and she grabs him by the arm and practically drags him by the stable out of sight.

"You can't go out there with him--" the Prince starts, "The Queen--"

"I know," Snow cuts him off.

"I'll--I'll follow you. At a distance. I can--"

"Don't." she squeezes his arm.

"But--"

"You were right," she says softly, "I don't have a plan. And I don't know what a world without the Queen looks like. And I'm scared of what I can do."

"Snow---"

"But I can change things. I don't know how, yet, but if nothing changes in here, maybe I need to go out there."

"But he's going to---"

"I changed you," she touches the side of his face, "And I'm so sorry for that. I'm so sorry everything's going to be harder for you from now on."

"I don't care about that--just tell me what to do, tell me how I can help--" the anguish in his voice is palpable.

"Prince [REDACTED] of Damp Kingdom," she says, and he stills at his name, "If I don't come back, destroy the mirror."

His jaw hangs slack. "How am I supposed to...?" he starts but then realizes he's talking to someone who's 90% sure she's riding out to her own murder, and he realizes it's not about him or her, it's about giving the world a fighting chance against the Queen's will. She's not going to let him kill himself trying to save her, but if he dies taking out that mirror...

And of course, like a dumbass, because he can't be a macho piece of shit for one second, he can't be like, 'Burr huburr I won't let that happen because I'm the hero' because he knows he's not the main character here. Because he fucking believes in her, he says, "I--I will."

Fuck. She didn't know. She didn't fucking know. Stupid fucking kid.

No, I don't want another fucking round. Can we get out of here? Can we walk? Let's just pick up the tab and go.

----

Thanks, man, sorry. Normally I'm really good with human-dense environments but--I couldn't stay in there. I hate this part of Snow's story. I know it's what brought her to us, but she came to us because she was like us, you know? She was a kid between worlds. No one comes into existence of their own free will, but it's fucked up if you come into everything on the margins like that. She should have had people. She should have had us.

What do you mean how did I do that?

Oh, [REDACTED]?

I dunno, man, I haven't been able to say his name for a really long time. I hate the new noise for it. It used to sound like a sharp note on a hurdy-gurdy, then it was radio static, and now it's been that dial-up... sound-badly-edited out of a film noise for a few decades now. Maybe one day it'll just be that dumb cheery TikTok AI voice going, "Redacted!" Can you imagine? What a fucking nightmare.

I should get back to the story.

So... Snow rides out with the Huntsman, and she spends the day picking feverfew and mushrooms. It's not a bad way to go out, all things considered. Just slit my throat nice and quick while I'm squatting over some thornapple. Except the Woodsman doesn't. For fucking hours and hours Snow is basically infodumping about plants and wondering why the hell she isn't murdered yet.

In the stories they keep saying that the woodsman saw that Snow was so pure or so beautiful that he couldn't bring himself to harm her. And maybe that happened. I've seen Snow turn that shit on and it's, you guessed it, actually scary as fuck. So, there's probably more deep-end fae versions of this where she just lights up like 'Vwooooom' and the Huntsman crumples before her like, "Forgive me! Forgive me, Princess-Messiah!" But like---here's the thing--

Snow told me she tried that. Not like, immediately, she waited for a while, knew they both kind of had to maintain this 'Tralala-wheee we're in the forest' thing, but there was a point where they were both riding, him on his destrier, she on her shaggy pony, and she glanced over at him and 'fwoooom' for all intents and purposes he should be looking at a fucking Marian Apparition. But he... didn't react to her at all. And that was when Snow saw he wasn't carrying his usual knife, and he had a box on his hip that gave her a headache and a weird ringing sensation in her teeth if she looked at it too long. So we're like, pretty sure the Queen made those objects with her jury-rigged alchemy bullshit so that, in theory, the huntsman would be able to cut out Snow's heart without it affecting the queen, and they gave him the added stat bonus of not crumpling in the face of The Miraculous Fae Weapon Princess Messiah on full-blast.

And then Snow, internally, is like, Ah. Fuck. Well, okay.

So the day drags on and on and fucking on. When's he gonna kill her? When is this piece of shit going to kill her? But he doesn't. So after about 3 hours, Snow is pretty sure this is now a fucked up psychological game from the Queen and she's like, I won't give her the satisfaction, and muscles on for another two hours, but then... she tried thinking, What can I do? I can change the world but I can't change this? I can... set bees on him? If I sing? Maybe? No--I can't explicitly ask for bees, it doesn't work if it's too specific--it answers to want--it answers to--

She told me that the image of the prince as that small child came to her mind unbidden then, then bare feet on freezing cold castle stones, his fate decided before he has any understanding of who he is, let alone what he can do, and all of a sudden she realizes that she's fae software running on human hardware and something in her snaps.

And she starts sobbing and blubbering hard. "If you're going to do it, just fucking do it already! Did she want this!? Did she want me to beg?!"

And the Huntsman flinches where he stands, and those big burly shoulders start buckling and heaving and he drops to the ground like a sack of bricks as he hyperventilates. "I can't--I--I have to--but--you're her age!"

Snow is caught mid sob then and makes a sound like "Whugh? "

"My daughter... I thought I could do this because you're--because I can see the queen in you---but I see her in you, too. I didn't think I would--god...if I don't---"

"The Queen will kill her," her voice is still phlegmmy, but the frost seems to be reforming with Snow, the steady resolve. I think this was another pure-of-heart thing--it's a lot harder for her to do something magical for herself, but if she's doing it for other people as well...

"She told me if I wanted to see her alive, I had to bring your heart back in this," the Huntsman pulls the box off of his belt and Snow winces at the full sight of it, "Sorry..."

"No--you didn't know--" Snow is pressing her fingers to her forehead, "So... a heart. You need a heart." She squeezes her eyes shut for a few seconds and then she says, "I can buy you time to run."

And she starts singing, it's a song similar to the one she was singing by the well, but there's more intent to it, now. She has the ingredients, the will, to build what she needs. There's that hook of wanting, that royal will, but layered on top of it is the plight of a father, the terror of a young lady, and the promise of immortality, of glory, in a story greater than you will ever now.

And an ancient boar comes trotting out of the woods. Snow kneels before it, strokes a hand along its coarse side, and touches her forehead to its own. Tears drip from her eyes and trickle down the sides of boar's scarred snout. A few more notes escape her, an apology, a promise of swiftness and comfort and ease, more than nature will ever grant it.

I need you to understand at this point, that Snow's ability to commune with animals is not a special trait of humanity. The boar connected with Snow because it saw something in her that most other humans had left behind.

Snow settles into a more comfortable sitting position and flairs out her skirts around herself, soft silks on the coarse grass, and the boar gently lays down on its side, setting its head in her lap. She looks up at the Huntsman and then flicks her eyelashes down at the boar in her lap. And without a word the huntsman understands.

Snow winces more than the boar when the knife is drawn, the metal seems to sing at a frequency only she can hear. She doesn't look away from the act, though. The boar doesn't struggle at all as the Huntsman draws the knife through the thick hide at its throat--there is a momentary tensing of the beast, but Snow strokes a hand across its side, breathing the words, "Thank you, thank you," and it eases and finally its old eye clouds. Both Snow and the Huntsman sit a few moments in respectful silence.

Finally the Huntsman says, "You must leave, Princess."

And Snow solemnly replies, "I know." A few seconds pass and then she says, "...I--um, I can't move my legs."

And the Huntsman goes, "Oh jeez--Sorry--" and helps haul the Boar off her legs.

She kisses the huntsman on the cheek with a soft "Thank you, sir, for everything," before taking off into the woods, her skirts soaked in blood.

Hey--I know a place nearby, it'll probably be last call by the time we get there, but we'll be out of the cold for at least a little bit. I get the vibe you'll like it better than the last bar. Come on.

[antianakin]

I don't think the story being about Mon and Luthen means that only their efforts should ever be recognized or that they should be touted as if they're the sole people to have brought the rebellion here and that no one else had any real contribution to make of any value.

Nor am I actually arguing Bail should've had a bigger role in the show. Honestly, I think he probably should've had a SMALLER role in the show. I think it would've been VERY easy to write him out and just not deal with him at all if they didn't actually want him in the story and wanted to keep it laser focused on the characters they actually cared about. You don't NEED to see Bail during Mon's escape from the Senate, it could just as easily have been shown as Mon going to Luthen for help one last time because of how badly Ghorman has shaken or something. Or Luthen choosing to show up because somehow he's heard through his sources that she's going to make a statement or he just knows her well enough to know that this is something that is going to push her to make a statement. I'm not even upset that they chose to have Cassian be the one to save her on Coruscant, and there's canonical reasons why he can't be the one to deliver her so they had to come up with an excuse for it, but there are ways to do that that don't go like "Yeah we got told that Gold Squadron is taking it over even though their own teams botched the first part of the mission and we're just being cut out."

I also don't think he needed to be on Yavin in the last arc at all. He's had next to no impact on Cassian's story and the two of them don't even speak in Rogue One. What does it serve for us to know that they didn't get along when Cassian's conflict with the rebellion can just as easily be shown in his relationship to Draven or even Mon Mothma?

And personally I don't think that the Maya Pei brigade arc adequately explains anything about how Luthen ultimately "chose" Yavin for anything. Cassian knows them already, so clearly Luthen's aware of a rebellion on Yavin long before that mission and hasn't actually tried to set up a base there. Luthen never seems interested in setting up a base at any other point, we never hear him talking about it in any other scene, we don't get to see Cassian reporting back about Yavin or anything like that, either. So at best we're given like Point A of a storyline (Cassian was on Yavin once) and then Point D or E of a storyline (Yavin is now a rebel base) and somehow I'm just supposed to fill in points B and C (somehow Luthen is involved in the rebels being on Yavin as a base) on my own with whatever headcanons I can come up with, but those points are also very important to the emotional narrative because Luthen's involvement in that is key to Cassian's argument in this scene that Luthen is the core of it all and they therefore it to him to believe his information. But that story feels really haphazard and patched together to me, so it doesn't hold any emotional weight when Cassian says "None of us would be here on Yavin if it weren't for Luthen" when it feels like it's coming out of thin air instead of naturally built up. I'm glad you feel like you can fill in those gaps yourself and it doesn't bother you that you have to, but it does bother me.

We've clearly just got different feelings about what the show is trying to say about Bail vs Luthen, and the one thing you chose not to address is Tony Gilroy's words from his interview stating that Mon and Luthen were the "real founders" of the rebellion, which DOES feel to me like it's sort-of dismissing Bail and the established canon that he is in fact the father of the rebellion and while other people certainly CONTRIBUTED, they are not more of a founder than he is or more REAL of a founder than he is. Bail feels shoved into this narrative because they thought they couldn't get away with NOT showing him rather than because they actually WANTED to show him and pay respect to a character who's been around in the narrative for so long. It feels like he got put in there so that they could lift up Mon and Luthen by comparing them to him.

And you're clearly not going to agree with that take, and it might be a bad faith take, but it's the feeling I got from watching it and it soured me to it and unfortunately your personal explanations for why it works for you just don't work for me. I generally get why they did it, what the in-universe explanations are for why certain things happen, I just don't agree with it from a character and writing standpoint.

It seems a little hilarious to me that they have Cassian making the argument that the only reason any of them are here, the only reason the REBELLION exists at all, is because of Luthen... and he's saying it to BAIL FUCKING ORGANA.

I'm sorry, but while I am happy to accept that Luthen did do a LOT of things to keep the rebellion alive and likely recruited quite a few of the people on Yavin to this cause himself and trained them up, there are just as many if not more who are there explicitly because of BAIL ORGANA.

Bail Organa who began fighting the Empire the moment he showed up at the Jedi Temple the night of Order 66 and turned around to save any Jedi he could and then became a GETAWAY DRIVER as Yoda went to assassinate the Emperor and then proceeded to agree to take in Anakin Skywalker's child in order to hide her from the Empire.

Bail Organa who has literally been shown helping recruit the entire Ghost Crew and likely brought on the entire Phoenix Squadon and theoretically the entire Gold Squadron. Bail Organa who was the one who helped Riyo Chuchi try to fight for clone rights. Bail Organa who saw Ahsoka Tano on Naboo for Padme's funeral and immediately turns around to offer her a chance to join the rebellion which she does eventually choose to take. Bail Organa who eventually does allow his own DAUGHTER to join the rebellion and run missions when she's old enough.

You cannot convince me that somehow Luthen Rael is MORE responsible for the creation of the rebellion and its existence and people's involvement in it than Bail Organa. You can't.

[nephynes]

Submissive hoon? Orrr we could do toxic hoon…:3

toxic hooooon feral noises

MDNI 

══════════════════════════

Your thighs tremble where they rest on either side of his face, his tongue flicking rhythmically against your clit like it's something he's practiced to perfection—and he has. Sunghoon's fingers dig into the softness of your hips, thumbs spreading you open while he moans softly into you like he's the one getting off.

And in a way, he is.

Your body jerks when he flattens his tongue, dragging it slow, indulgent. He tilts his face up enough to mutter against your slick, "You always taste so sweet when you're upset with me."

Your hand tugs his hair harder than you meant to.

"Don't say that."

But he only hums again, lazily, like he's unbothered. Like the way he got you here, half dressed, pissed off, thighs shaking, is a win in his twisted little book. You're trying to hold onto the thread of frustration. You were angry, you still should be angry. But he's got you falling apart on his mouth like every other time he finds a way to make himself the cure to his own chaos.

Because somehow, Sunghoon is always the one who's hurt. Who needs to be forgiven. Who says things like "I didn't mean it like that, baby," with big eyes and a voice so soft you almost forget what he's actually saying.

He'd texted you from his friend's place last night at 1AM. Then gone silent. No replies, no calls answered. Just a three-hour stretch of anxiety sitting in your chest like a boulder until he showed up this morning at your apartment with the same puppy dog pout and an "I fell asleep on the couch, swear."

And maybe that would've worked on you again, like it always does, if not for the notification that popped up on his phone while he went to get water.

"You okay baby? Thought your girl was getting suspicious. lol."

You didn't say anything. Not right away.

You just sat there, watching him walk back in with that little bashful smile, kissing your cheek, curling up next to you like he was starving for closeness.

"Missed you all night," he whispered, curling his fingers around your wrist to pull your hand to his chest, holding it there like you were the one who'd been gone.

That's how you always end up like this—with your legs over his shoulders and his mouth buried between your thighs. He uses sex like silk to cover his missteps, winding himself tighter around you with each gentle kiss and whimpering apology.

You'd told him once you like when he begs. Now he does it like clockwork. "Don't hate me," he says now, voice muffled against your cunt as he slides two fingers inside. His lips drag up your inner thigh as you whine out his name, chest heaving. "I can't take it when you look at me like that. I'll go insane.

You almost don't hear the desperation behind it anymore. It sounds too rehearsed. Like he's said it a thousand times, probably to you, maybe to others too. You don't even know anymore.

He shifts upward, fingers still knuckle deep inside you, his cock straining against his stomach, flushed and leaking. He doesn't even ask before he straddles your waist, reaching behind himself with an ease that feels almost calculated, finding your clit with the heel of his palm while his fingers curl deep.

Your eyes widen.

"Hoon—"

"Shhh," he whispers, leaning down to kiss your mouth as his hips rock against your belly, pre-cum smearing across your skin. "Let me make it up to you."

And god—he does. His fingers know just how to press, just where to curl, and your mind is fuzzy, too overwhelmed to sort through what's real and what's manipulation.

You don't even remember when he sinks into you—all you know is that he's deep, forehead to yours, hips barely moving. His voice breaks into a soft whimper.

"Say you forgive me," he pants, kissing the corner of your mouth. "Say it, baby. Please."

He rolls his hips deeper, your breath catching at the stretch.

"Sunghoon—"

"No, say it," he repeats, a little sharper now, though it's wrapped in a soft breath. His forehead presses harder to yours as he thrusts again, slower this time, almost punishing. "Please. I can't handle it if you don't."

If you weren't so gone, body limp and pliant underneath him, you might've caught how it wasn't really a plea—it was a demand wrapped in desperation. His hands aren't just clinging to you, they're pinning you, thumb pressed into your jaw to keep your face tilted up, eyes wide for him.

He's begging, yes but not like a man asking for forgiveness. Like a man who needs your absolution to keep control.

But you don't catch it. Not then.

Not when he's fucking you like he's trying to own every part of you, cock dragging through your walls until your legs shake. Not when he's moaning into your skin, voice breaking apart with need and something far more dangerous, "Don't be mad at me anymore. I can't fucking take it, I'll lose my mind, baby."

It's only afterward, when you're lying there spent, head laid on his glistening chest, that you remember everything.

Like the time he got you to stop going to girls' nights because he "just doesn't sleep well without you."

Or how he told you he hates condoms because it makes him feel like there's something between you.

How when you cried the first time he said "you make me crazy when you talk to other guys," he wiped your tears and made you come four times that night with your legs over his shoulders and soft apologies in your ear.

Sunghoon is never outright cruel. He's never loud, never aggressive.

But the way he needs you, it’s no longer sweet. He shifts under you now, wrapping an arm around your waist and kissing your hair.

"Still mad?" he mumbles, sleepy and soft.

You want to say yes, get up and kick him out of your apartment, but you shake your head instead, mumbling a little, "No." And you stay because sweet boys with soft mouths and ruined eyes make you feel needed. And Sunghoon knows that. He always has.

══════════════════════════

• a/n: i wouldn’t leave either 🤧

[rekino2114]

Y/n trying to teach to Fem!Sukuna how to use a phone or him explaining brainrot term to Sukuna because she heard Yuji saying it.

Fem!Sukuna : Y/n, what does Gyat mean?

Y/n : *Slowly dying from cringe*

Dating a several centuries old sorcerer who got reincarnated in the body of a teenage girl can be......taxing

Sukuna doesn't really understand anything about the modern world, while she can adapt incredibly fast to most changes she notices, that's mostly exclusive to fighting styles and stuff related to jujutsu, technology especially is a completely new ground that she has no idea how to approach

"Y/n, what is this?"

"Oh that's yuji's phone, I'm surprised she left it opened before she let you take over"

"........what is a phone?"

"....oh yeah, I forgot you were super old"

"Don't disrespect me"

"I'm not, I'm just saying the truth"

"You are incredibly lucky I love you'

"I know, anyway, a phone is like.....a technology thingy.....that you use to basically do anything"

"That explanation was useless, if you wanted to enlighten me you didn't succeed"

"Sorry but it's kinda hard to explain what a phone is, it's so common nowadays that I never thought I had to define one"

"Is it a cursed tool?"

".......no"

"Can I use it to fight?"

".......also no"

"Then it's not worth my time"

"Come on I thought you were interested in learning new stuff about the modern world"

"........alright I suppose if it is for you I can make an effort, so what do you use this phone for"

"A bunch of stuff really, you can call people, use the internet, take phot-"

"Why is there an identical version of me trapped in this black box"

".......that's the camera function"

"........what is that?"

"......we're going to be here for a while"

[Timeskip brought to you by chibi sukuna and chibi y/n having a candle lit dinner inside of malevolent shrine]

"Alright so that should be the basics on how to use a phone, did you understand that?"

"I got the gist of it, however there is one more curiosity I'd like to satisfy"

"Shoot"

"What is a gyat, I heard the brat mention it once"

"................I'm gonna need to talk to yuji about that"

[hrrtshape]

I had been doing a guided meditation if I had a subliminal on or if I was in the surface position that I wouldn’t have failed and when I do do a proper method and I wake up in my current reality, I just think to myself it’s OK. You did everything right today was just not your day to shift so I hate the fact that I’ve like convinced myself that I need to do all these extra steps when I know that I don’t, but also whenever I just lay there and shift normally like do the normal shifting process that I know works for me all I can think about is this isn’t gonna work cause it’s too easy and then I start thinking this isn’t gonna work because shifting is unreal and then I think how can I shift like I’m just a normal person like I don’t have anything special about myself. I’m not gonna be able to do it and all these doubts come in and then even more important whenever I feel that soul sucking sensation I’m scared like I’m scared to shift. I’m scared to leave and that part just always holds me back and I don’t know what to do

ok let's think this through

you're not scared of shifting, you're scared of it working, or maybe that's semantics. whatever. but it's fine. i don't mean that in a "let go sweetie pie trust the universe <3" way. i mean you've already taught your brain to see success as a cliff edge

the second it feels like you're about to lift off, you call it soul-sucking, as if it's a life-threatening disease. you want shifting to prove itself safe before you leap, but it doesn't. it's not here to give you closure, it's here to move you

furthermore, it's not that you think you need a subliminal or a surface position or a ritual. it's that you've confused difficulty with effort. you've attached meaning to the fight. and now you're scared of ease. you think if it's not hard, it's not real. but if a method works, it works. your desire is the method !!!!!!!!!!!!!!

if you want to lessen shifting's importance, think of it as mechanical instead of spiritual. thoughts in, outcome out. that's it. voila. you don't need to be chosen or special or pure, you just need to believe the machine does what it says it does. and stop sticking your hand in the gears !!!!!!

[echodoctor]

I've noticed a few people take "the Universe leads and we follow" to mean that the Northern Island's spiritual traditions were a more authoritarian kind of faith, similar to something like Catholicism- God hands down decrees and mortals must obey them.

And while that is one way you could interpret that, it's very much not the way I read it when I saw that line.

I do want to preface this by saying I am some extremely white dumbass who knows shit about this secondhand only so please take what I am about to say with not so much as grain as an entire Lot's wife worth of salt, but:

I think the followers of the Universe might have something closer to Taoism going on.

Again, this is something I'm very vague on, but I remember reading that the ideal in Taoism is essentially to be in utter harmony with the natural rhythms of the world around you, effortlessly moving with them instead of desperately struggling against the flow. The world has natural processes: night follows day, decay follows death, the tides come in and out, etc. Understand and accept those processes, and you can float through seemingly effortlessly, because the natural movements of the world are at your back and carrying you forward, instead of something you struggle against.

There's a dynamic that shows up in a lot of classical Chinese stuff between Confucianism (very concerned with things being right and correct and proper) and Taoism, where the Confucian is angrily trying to make everything Work The Way It Should and the Taoist is affectionately teasing the Confucian for getting so worked up, and is having a much easier time because they've accepted the way things already are.

Like, the Confucian walks through a lovely peach grove and keeps getting mad because the trees are shedding leaves all over the path and no one bothered to rake them off, you're supposed to be keeping these paths clear, doesn't anyone do anything around here! The Taoist just has a nice walk and enjoys the peaches, maybe catches a nice ripe tasty fruit right before it falls on the Confucian's head.

I don't think it would be a one-to-one thing, but my personal guess is that the followers of the Universe believed in something similar.

The Universe leads you, in the same way that an ocean current sweeping you out to sea is leading you. That's just the way it is, and you can either struggle against it until you tire yourself out and drown, or you can recognize what's happening and learn how to ride the current to your destination.

This could have both positive aspects (compassion and acceptance towards others, living in peace with the world instead of changing it by violence) and negative ones (sometimes the world really does need to be changed, and you don't just have to accept things that make you miserable instead of working to fix them).

We can see a lot of that negative side in both the King and Siffrin. The King urges the party to be frozen at their happiest moment, because he can't wrap his head around the idea that you could make things even better instead of just being given something and praying you don't lose it. Siffrin falls into the natural rhythm of the script, and doesn't try to fight against what feels the most correct because this is how things are, why would he believe that's something he has the power to change?

(One big difference here is that Taoism also believes that change is one of the fundamental forces, that the world is constantly changing, whereas I think the Followers of the Universe would probably be a kind of narrative foil for the House of Change in canon, just for story purposes.)

(Sometimes things need to change, and sometimes you need to accept them. A healthier outlook probably finds a good balance of both.)

When the Change God tells Siffrin that his god "will never really talk to you", I wonder if a follower of the Universe who remembered more about their beliefs could have argued back that their god never stops speaking?

Through the flight of birds, the movement of clouds, the beating of your own heart- the Universe is speaking all the time. To live is to be in constant conversation with it.

It's fun and all the think the universe is being mean to Loop and Siffrin but tbh I like to think the universe is more apathetic than actively malicious. Real "a universe that doesn't care but people do" type of deal.

The universe is hard to grasp or even personify. According to the change god the universe can't even talk to its followers. It's so massive and incomprehensible it just can't.

Like... imagine you had to do something for one of the like octillion atoms that make up your body. You don't know this thing, you don't know it's situation, not really. It's kinda hard to pay attention when you're busy being... well perpetual existence. But it becomes just loud enough to hear. Hurts just enough to feel. But instead of squashing this thing like a bug you give it a crumb and simply move on.

But that also makes the whole "The universe leads and we must follow" philosophy very hilarious. Like the universe does NOT know what the little specks on this single planet are doing just like we don't notice how our cells move around in our body.

The universe isn't leading shit. It's giving you the tools to do it yourself. It's like when you ask your mom to drive you somewhere and she just hands you the keys and says don't wreck the car, except this "mom" doesn't comprehend that its kids aren't even old enough to drive (aka can't handle godly powers like timecraft)

[minzart]

Beggars can't be choosers (6)

Ao3 - Prev - Next

Decepticons & Reader(GN), Receptor & Reader(GN), Lazerbeak & Reader(GN)

You find an "automatic" tank busted in the middle of the night, and as the good millitar Mechanic that you are, you fix it.

Or, the Decepticons don't have a trained doctor(yet), and you just volunteered as a substitute by their leaders' logic and standards

When Rumble nor Frenzy could play "human-keeper", as they called it, it was given to you strange green and purple pieces of a machine, you couldn't recognize what it could transfom into, but you knew it was made of three pieces only, and one of those was a lense

It had been four days since your promotion, and today would be your first attempt at redirecting shipment, you were trembling in anxiety, hoping whoever of the seekers they sent to retrieve the parts knew how to behave, not betting on Thundercracker to play delivery mech as well as personal driver

"Pacing around won't help your charade human" you hear the soft static voice call out from your pocket, you jump in attention anyways, as he rarely speaks

"Maybe, but it does help me vent my anxiety"

"It really doesn't"

"Well, let me pretend it does"

"Relax, everything is going to be fine, we made sure of it"

You stop in your tracks when noticing a black truck coming into view, the shipment is here "alright, now deliver"

Getting closer and closer, the driver stops by your side, pulling down his window and giving you a toothy smile "oi chief! Where we unloading?"

"Hangar 11 is good, the warehouse is being used today" it wasn't a lie, when the warehouse was too fool or being organized, hangar 11 was usually the go to area for temporary storage, the lie was that the warehouse was not in fact in use, but it was full enough that you could play that card if someone asked

"Gotcha" and he drives off

To sell the appearance, you continue your routine without even looking at hangar 11s' direction, helping around repairs, meetings, writting new guides and requests for upgrades on test models, making sure everyone was justified when there was a day missing in their attendance, negotiating with officers, breaking a fight over hangar 4, and finally lunch

You drop in the quiet kitchen, at this hour no-one was present, which is a blessing, you needed to breathe a little without too many eyes on you

"You know" you hear Reflector speaking again as you take one of the few leftover sandwiches "no wonder you adapted quickly to our chain of comand, your job seems very similar to our rank sistem"

You hum

"But you seem dense in some aspects of it"

You roll your eyes, munching down your food and decides to entertain the bot "how so?"

"Perhaps I am just too good at my job, as usual" you hear the pride in him "there are people wanting to take you down"

You sigh "no shit, that's normal"

"But I mean, really want to, as in, actively planing sabotage and rumor spreading"

"..." You stop, picking a small screw from hou pocket as well as him "what did you see?"

"Careful with that thing human, don't shoot the messager" you feel him jump a bit in your hand "one of them is marking your superior constantly on lunch break, the other one is reporting every single mistake you left untouched, I'm still working on the third ones' problem"

You sigh, masaging your temples, you would have to make sure to don't piss off any of your crew then, they can't do anything if you are competent to the majority present "I'll deal with it, thank you"

"Oh?" You hear him laugh "an aknowladgement is rare when not coming from lord Megatron, but apreciated, human"

You finish your lunch and decide to finally go organize the spare parts "You work for the spy section of the Decepticons then?"

"Hm... I don't have this information" you walk with him down the corridors, still pretending to fix him

"What do you mean?"

"That I don't remember that information, it's probably with one of the other two parts of me"

"Other... parts? As in, you split your conscience?"

"Pretty much yeah, into three, each one knowing parts of a whole that then join togheter once requested by lord Megatron"

"Is that... no wait, they didn't tell anyone how their powers work, never mind..." You hum "were you born with this hability?"

"I guess?"

"Got it" you puff, expected, but still sad, you pocket him again when seeing people approaching

.................................

After every part was counted and revised by the staff, you could finally separate some of the things you deem more needed, many were tubes, some wires, many metal plates, a motor for jets and tanks just in case, and wheels

All of that in two big boxes, not bad, you could work with that, passing chains around the cargo you make sure to tie them togheter, this should be enough to hold on the weight in the flight, since the Decepticons don't have members that can transform into comum human grounders... unless Soundwave can and just doesn't want to... no, wait, he is a boom box that plays caccettes, that's right, so you are pretty sure it's gonna be one of the seekers

Picking up your phone you find in the last page a decepticon icon, tapping it your keyboard appears, you write your mensage

[Cargo secured, waiting pick up: Hangar 11]

Upon hitting send, a mensage appears

<searching permitted connection....>

<Megatron - online - operational>

<No more permitted conections>

You tap Megatrons name

<conection access granted>

<menssage sent>

<Make this default conection? Y/N>

You tap back in your phone, ignoring the mensage, now you just have to wait and pay attention to the sky...

Deciding it was too dangerous to stay around longer than half an hour, you go back to your duties, the day pass by smoothly than you expect, and soon enough, you start to worry your menssage never went trough, when a ping calls your attention

[Thundercracker is on his way- 17:25:12 - °°/°°/°°/M.R - D.C: Megatron ]

Oh... well, you'll be damned, maybe the rest of the seekers just despise you... or they just like combat more. You lost counts already of how many times you had to hear Starscream chastise Skywarp about his recklessness in battle, you even joined in once, after you had to bend his wings back in place... for the fifth time in two days

Really, how many times were they to be beaten to learn and try to take over with discretion, it's getting ridiculous how the hell didn't they get beaten once and for all already, you start to wonder how Megatron got to be a dictator in the first place, because apparently who reined Cybertron before they got stuck here was the Decepticons, so what gives, does he have all competent people there and got stuck with the worst of his generals?

Is he even a tyrant anymore? Who is ruling Cybertron if both faction leaders are on earth, surely they got more people fighting up there... is there even a war going on anymore, four million years is a long time, maybe they got in an agreement and once he discovers, the silver tank will short circuit and die

Although... this doesn't mean much for your planet does it? You can feel that, even if for now, they are raiding energy companies for necessity, it would soon become the main purpose of earth for the tyrant, a young planet full of energy... he would suck it dry, but humanity is already doing that, if he wants every single charge of it, he should take down the greedy upper-class main companies first... then again, he probably would just do the political move of "you keep an eye on yours and I'll give you money and let you keep your life"

... eh, nothing you already don't expect from humans between ourselves anyways, in this world it all depends on how useful you are to someone else, and for now, you are very useful for them, so you are safe...

Safer than most anywas, and that was the most comforting thought you had this week

The sky roars, and you know Thundercracker is near, people jump in attention then check to see if it's raining, the day is foogy enough to pretend it will soon, so you run along for Hangar 11

The blue jets await your arrival in good shape, you look for sighs of fatigue or malfunction, he is static, and his turbins stop working slowly, letting them cool down naturally from use, his lights are working in perfect condition, and he stops at perfect distance of the wall of boxes, everything indicating attention and awareness, you smile noting that he is alright

There are some workers around catching a break, you greet them and smoothly goes to the lifting cart, driving it into the chained boxes and dragging them bellow Thundercracker

With a ladders help you fix the cargo in two of his loops, usualy a F-15 isn't supposed to carry this much weight, but a seeker is not a F-15, they are faster, and they are more resistant, the damage you saw in Thundercracker and Skywarp is something you bet would have broken any human jet no problem, but they survive it, probably a property of the flexibility of living metal

So you hope that means they are far stronger too, you give a gentle tap on his wheels, and with start wayving your hands at the cockpit, playing along as if you were silognaling to the pilot the green light for take off

When the engines start you are sure he got the mensage, you hear someone behind you murmur "not even a hello, who even is this guy..."

You shrugged a lie coming naturally to you "capitals' lieutenant"

You hear the loud smack of your coworkers jaw as he gulps, and do your best to keep yourself from smirking smuggly

..........................

Lazerbeak had a different mission today, one not directly given by his boss, but he suspects it was approved anyway since he wasn't sent to the autobots base this cycle anyways, but given by his coworker, it was given as an official mission, it was demanded as one, but he knew it wasn't one

After all, what would they even do with a rusthy human scrap of a two wheel model like this one

Unless the plan was to give it to the little human disassemble, wich was very unlikely, Ravage had been very adamant that he kept the junk intact, perhaps it is a gift, a not so unusual ocurance to the feline minicon when it comes to her favorites, the human did save her life, short off, Lazebeak is still sure anyone would have been able to do that human or not, but the precise surgery that was not a surgery has been reported to be easier to handle than being open and vulnerable in the light of a wrentch

The avian minicon wouldn't know, he was more of a intelligence gathering and last nano-second backup than the others, rarely in need of maintainance himself, so he didn't knew the human as much as he should personally at this point

Even if he was keeping surveillance in them every once in a while, his main job was to keep an eye on autobots, but he was sent to make a quick scan of the military base they frequent

When arriving at the decepticon base, Lazerbeak made sure to put the two wheel model by the medical wing, just as requested

What he didn't expect was the little human to enter right as he was ready to take flight, he freezes, turning his head in their direction, their eyes shone in recognition, a big smile stretching their fleshy face "My bike!"

They run past the minicon immediately, inspecting the item "scratches eveywere, some dents but nothing too damaging, I gotta clean you up of all this sand, oh my baby, how I have missed you!"

Lazerbeak tilts his head a bit in confusion, by Rumble's memory data, a baby should be just a tinny human... perhaps it is also an affectionate term for other things, that would explain it "You got this to me?"

The human looks at him, weary and curious, Lazerbeak lowers his stance, eyes shining once, the human servos twitch tentatively, the avian minicon waits for their reaction, a mischievous glint in his optics

They reach their hand, and Lazerbeak makes a bite in their direction, startling the little thing and making the avian cackle in daylight, the human yelps then remains their composure "alright fine no touching.... thanks anyways"

The little human moves the "bike" over to their own little corner, Ravage has sworn that no matter how far or how fast human contraptions were, Cybertronians were faster, you wouldn't be able to escape even with one hour of advantage in the open desert

And with that, the air spy goes back to his commander, to Megatrons' office he flies, were Soundwave is found discussing matters with their leader

"Any luck with our preparations Soundwave?" The warlord asks, focusing on datasets instead of his spy comander

"Humans EM fields: unstable" the blue mech says, opening his chest for Lazerbeak to doc "Long distance reading: poor quality, intentions vaguely acknowledged at best, Short distance reading: better intention percieved, no cohesive thoughts detected, Phisical conected: still to be tested"

"Good, see to it that you find a way to read a humans mind, the autobots aquired another fleshbag to their ranks, from last reports he seems to be a scientist prodigy, his knowledge on the new energy source they are working on might be useful to us"

"Decoy base: evaluated?"

"Skywarp is working on it, dismissed"

The comander nods, giving a brief tap to his Chamber and leaves, walking back to his shared, but only he uses anyways, office with the air comander, analyzing Lazerbeaks recordings as he does

The spy commander feels Ravage indignation of her gift being given credit to the avian, caccette growling inside him despite her recharge mode, the minicon doesn't seem to care, still pleased at being praised and the change of scenery, Soundwave notes your care with the motorbike, filing the information in case of second hand punishment being needed

Usualy he would now make surveillance as Ravage and Frenzy recharge, the base being almost done, perhaps by the end of seven cycles they could get to work in a transmission tower and finally contact Cybertron

However, if he could finish his human EM field analysis this cycle still, he could move on to more pressing matters, like a plan of kidnapping the human they needed, he is still in need of locating his charging quarters in the autobot base or outside it

As he thinks the blue mech notices his peds driving him to the medical wing, of course, they already do have a human...

Your EM field was always on high alert around him, and most mechs that were far bigger than you, if he noticed correctly, fear surrounding that little head of yours when anyone walks in, not unusual to those who knows about the second form of the disguised mechs, but you were the recent stuborn decision his lord has had

Too valuable to accidentally get rid off, hence he avoided using you directly as a case study first, only as a hipotesis confirmation, humans do not feel his information scans, and that was that, but now... would he risk Lord Megatrons' wrath if his reading in direct contact to a humans mind might potentially fry whatever you have as a processor?

Then again, it would just be a more in deep scan, and it was already proven it didn't hurt from afar...

Slowly he approaches, registering the faint tune you hum, a deep part of him want to tap to the beat, it is quite simple, but he wouldn't be a spy master if he succumbed to these types of urges. He is as close as he can without letting his shadow give him away, in a split second the decision is made, the second you turn around as you noticed the massive mech, with one single digit he pokes your head "wh-?!"

The small creature freezes, gripping the small cloth like their life depends on it, he hold backs a small chuckle, they were amusing to mess with, this, he agreed with his cassettes. Going back to his task, he pats your head more firmly now, concentrating in the waves of energy in one single point, then spreading it to your whole body, the experiment a sucess,he hears your voice

"W..... appening..."

Then he adds his other hands' finger, your voice grows clearer

"Is ...... this..... ?"

Then he vents in frustration and decides to just concentrate all fingers in two spots by your heads' side

"Oh yeah, I definitively passed out on the pile, this is too much for this late of the night... or is it morning already?"

Good, he could work on humans as well, now for a test run in interrogation

"Query: do you know my designation?" Lets start simple

Your eyes shot open "designation-name name of course, name name name his name- fuck, names-"

An image, a memory, a hand inside a lavender piston, a voice, Frenzys voice "are you stupid?! He doesn't know we are here! Do you want to blow our cover?!"

"If he did he would have come and killed the human after yesterdays warning", "a name a name a name a name Frenzys and Rumbles boss-", his own voice "Patient designation: Ravage", then Rumbles' "Bah stop being such a weenie... did-"

"Soundwave..." "SIR DONT FORGET THE SIR YOU DUMBASS" "sir"

More voice than image, but upon called an especific memory it will apear, even if a bit turved, he can work with that, he stops his pats, and can't hold back the chuckle, your fur is sticking out "Assistance: apreciated"

Without any delay, he gets up, and starts walking out of the room, but halts in his way, Megatron is watching from the door, the spy master feels his optics widen and his visor brighten, his posture goes rigid "Lord Megatron"

The silver tyrant hasn't caught his third in command this flustered since the start of this war, it all becomes more comical by the absolute confusion that is scrunched up in the humans face, it is becoming harder and harder not burst laughing "Soundwave"

"This is the weirdest fantasy I have ever had" that does it, the warlord wheeze out a deep hawling laugh, he can't contain it, the allegations of a pet human are going to sky rocket after this but frag it, it was all worth for seeing this scene alone

You and Soundwave look at each other in an empaty-driven concern for the well-being of your own lives, and it only gets worse when you hear a scratchy voice from somewhere in the base screaming "WHAT THE PIT IS THAT SOUND?!"

In a blink of an eye, Soundwave is not by your side anymore, the traitor has abandoned you, Megatron claps his knees, and you hear his vents struggle to keep a consistent intake "I needed this, oh, I forgot I could do that, frag- my vents- scrap... what were you two doing?"

"Honestly, boss?" You decide to just... lay on the ground for a little while, things couldn't get weirder "I have no idea"

And the laugh starts again, but he at least leaves the med bay, and you start to suspect that this is all an elaborated TV prank

[layla4567]

You give Bob/Sentry a pet

Headcanons with a short blurb at the end

If you gave him a cat:

-It would be a calm cat (not an orange one lol) and neither too adult nor too baby.

-You will help him give it a nice name and together you will buy a collar.

-You had heard that a cat's purr can regulate emotions and even cure diseases, so you realized it was perfect for him.

-And when he can't sleep his little kitten is always near his legs purring softly, calming him.

-Twice a week, you visit him to see how he's doing and if he's adjusting to the new pet. You bring him balanced food just in case and stay and play with his cat.

"Hi Bob!, how you doing?". Your footsteps echoed on the wooden floor of his apartment as you opened the door with one hand and held a bag with the other.

He turned around looking at you with a smile "Oh you're early! Let me help you with that" Bob ran to your side taking the bag from your hands helping you come in.

You thanked him tenderly "Yup, I had nothing to do so I took the opportunity to buy things for Cucumber while I came here" you said laughing

The cat was already stretching from the couch and came to your side, meowing curiously. You bent down to stroke his back, which he acknowledged with a loud purr. Bob smiled delightedly at your presence and how well you got along with his pet.

"He is always happy to see you, I think you are his favorite" He said

"Only the cat is happy to see me?" you said mischievously.

Bob smiled and looked down shyly. "No, of course not."

Minutes later, the two of you were sitting on the couch sorting through the bag. Cucumber was between you, sniffing the contents of the plastic bag and tickling your fingers. You had bought a stuffed mouse, some pet food, and a dewormer. The happy kitten began to play with his new toy as if it were prey while Bob and you filled his food and water bowl.

Bob always thanked you for coming to take care of his cat, and secretly of him too.

If you gave him a dog:

-I imagine him with an emotional support dog, like a golden retriever or something, a big dog that you can hug like a person.

-Golden retrievers are very clever at detecting human emotions. The dog always knows when Bob isn't feeling well and always approaches him to lick his face or hands.

-The dog also helps keep him happy, as they're quite hyperactive. Bob is forced to leave the house more often to take him for walks and buy him food.

-Sometimes he goes out late to a square with the dog to distract himself and play ball with his pet since he doesn't have space at home.

-However, sometimes the dog can be a bit overwhelming for him, as he never seems to stop playing, but he quickly understands that there are times to rest. Bob's favorite time is sleeping with the dog in his bed.

That day, you were a little late arriving at Bob's apartment; time had completely slipped by, so you ran over to his house. You already had your keys, so you walked right in, your tongue hanging out from all the running.

You noticed that everything was quiet, and it seemed strange to you. He hadn't told you he was going out or anything, so you got worried. You searched the kitchen until you reached his room, and what you saw melted your heart. Bob was taking a nap in his bed, cuddling the dog who was resting his head on his shoulder.

You didn't want to wake them, but the dog sensed your presence and jumped up to come to you and put his paws on your belly, greeting you with a happy wagging tail. Bob, alerted by the absence of his pet, slowly stretched and opened his eyes, still sleepy.

"Ah, is that you" He said softly

"Yes, sorry. I was late and didn't mean to wake you up. But it seems this rascal gave me away." You said laughing

"Don't be sorry, now you're here. That's all that matters"

Bob shuffled to his feet, his hair a mess, and his eyelids threatening to droop again. He looked so handsome in that state. You gently smoothed away a few stray hairs.

He offered you coffee, and you both sat down at the table to eat breakfast, while the golden retriever rested his paws on your thighs, waiting for something to eat. You couldn't resist his brown eyes, so you gave him a piece of toast.

Hours later, you two, along with the dog on a leash, went to a square to walk, run, and play. The energetic dog made you run several times to chase a squirrel or pigeons that had gathered to eat bread. At one point, the mischievous little dog started running around you both, wrapping you in the leash as if you were a Christmas present. Your legs got tangled up, and you both fell to the ground, Bob on top of you.

He was very embarrassed and babbled insults and incoherent apologies, but you just laughed and consoled him. It seemed like the dog had clear intentions; he was very clever indeed.